-Dick decides it’s time for the boys to get out and have some fun (that doesn’t involve wearing spandex and running around beating people up)
-so he rounds all of them up; Tim from a board meeting (“it’s fine Tim, B cancels on them all the time.”), Jason from a midday nap (“fuck off Dick I literally just got home can I sleep??? How did you even find me???”), Damian from the local arcade (“day off Dami” “Grayson I was relaxing. I almost beat my high score on Cheese Vikings” “it’s brotherly bonding time little D”)
-The boys find themselves piled into a car and driven to the nearest fair/amusement park
- except for Dick, none of them had actually ever been to a fair or amusement park, what with Jason living on the streets, Tim’s parents neglecting him and Damian, well Talia.
-Dick is physically pained when he realises this fact and insists that they all enjoy themselves to the fullest (despite the groans and disapproval of the others)
-Damian is just barely tall enough to pass as an “adult”- a fact that Tim takes a lot of joy in
-Jason and Damian are just kind of confused by this whole thing (why would anyone want to go somewhere that smells like grease and has tons of snotty brats running around???)
-Dick is in his glory and Tim, Tim is just kind of meh. He’s not overly impressed but he’s open to the experience, to which Dick is grateful for
-Tim is the over prepared soccer mom with the water bottles and sunscreen (because he’s pale af and burns super easy) and spare clothes if there’s a water park (Jason will endlessly tease him for the little backpack he carries but is the first one to ask for a water bottle)
-Dick is dragging them all to his favourite rides like the Tilt-a-whirl and the teacups while Jason wants to try the rides that go upside down and speed around tight corners and stuff
-Tim is down with the things like the Ferris wheel and old fashioned roller coasters (it matches his aesthetic)
-Damian gives zero shits what they do so long as he can avoid contact with the small children that are giving him weird looks
It’s winter, and you visit the beach. The sky is gray, the ocean is gray, the foul-smelling liquid trickling from the sewer pipe is gray, and sand even has a faint tint of gray. The fog rolls in, smelling of salt and oozing gray.
It is November and you are thirteen. The old wooden roller coaster at the boardwalk creaks when the wind blows, and one of you adolescent friends tells you in a rushed whisper about the boy who died on there once. No one knows his name, but they are certain that it happened.
The boardwalk has survived two hurricanes. You are certain that it will not survive the next. Like the pier, it will one day be in your town’s small history museum. That is, if they ever rebuild it.
Your town was once famous for having the most bars in a square mile. Then nearly everything burnt down. The bars. The roller rink. The condos. Everything burns. Fire is cleansing, they say. A chance to rebuild. No one cries arson.
You take a field trip to the Liberty Science Center. They tell you, if you look out across the water, you can see the Statue of Liberty. But that is neither here nor there.
You drive to the North to visit cousins. There are nothing but mountains and trees. Your cell phone has no signal. Your cell phone is dead. The clock radio in your car has ceased to work as well. How long have you been on this road? You swear you’ve seen this rest stop before. Maybe you should stop and ask for directions. But a voice from the backseat whispers “Keep driving.” And you do. You do.
You drive to the South to visit cousins. The pine trees grow taller and everything smells of Christmas. But it’s wrong. The cheer is gone. The sun sets and you see something flapping it’s wings in the sky. “It’s just a bat.” your mother tells you, her voice shaking. It’s just a bat.
You’re still in South Jersey. You’re not sure where you’ve come from or where you’re going, but you know you’re in South Jersey. You feel eyes boring into your back. You feel a hot breath on your neck and think there’s a reason Weird New Jersey started in this state.
You decide to go to college in the North. Someone asks where you’re from and you reply “Central Jersey.” They laugh, but you don’t know why. It happens again. And again. Someone asks where you’re from and they laugh. Finally, you ask why. They reply between guffaws,
One of the city’s first amusement rides, “The Roller Coaster” was constructed in 1883 at State St. and 22nd (now called Cermak Rd.).
The ride was something new - so new, that the inventor filed for a patent after it’s construction.
Passengers rode sideways, were propelled by their own weight and it only lasted 18 seconds. You could get three rides for 5 cents.
As the September 30, 1883 Tribune article states, “…the effect is so exciting and pleasurable that the rider fairly loses himself, forgetting even who he is, where he lives, or what he is doing.” Sounds really exciting.
And we spent that week wide open Upside down beside the ocean I didn’t know where it was goin’ Just tryin’ to keep my heart on the tracks I should’ve known that kind of feelin’ Would last longer than that week did Blown away and barely breathin’ Sunday came and it was over Now she’s got me twisted Like an old beach roller coaster
Sorry, forgot to specify😂 Can you do Jerome 1,3 & 8 SFW?
It’s not a problem!
Jerome Headcanons (SFW)
1. Dating headcanon
Dating Jerome is a rollercoaster…an old wooden roller coaster that your can feel wobbling and shake as you ride. The thought of being with a murderer was thrilling but also terrifying. You’d have to tread careful and watch what you say around Jerome since he’s easily upset.
3. Arguments headcanon
Arguing with Jerome wasn’t a smart idea. He’d use your weaknesses against you, manipulating your emotions until you apologized, but he appreciates playful banter and the occasion disagreement.
8. Sleeping headcanon
Sleeping with Jerome could go either one of two ways
1) You get to sleep peacefully with him cuddled up to you
2) You are constantly beginning punched as he flails around, which lead to you comforting him until he calms down.
Jerome is most vulnerable in his sleep and often mumbles about things that you never knew about him. Of course, you’d never bring any of it up to him when he’s awake because then he’d make sure to knock out on the couch.
Come Fly With Me Inspired by this beautiful piece (x)
Fucking Cas, Dean thinks as he hurtles towards the earth below.
He pinwheels helplessly, shouting at the top of his lungs.
“Fuck you, Cas!” He yells, but it’s ripped away, lost in the roaring wind.
Then suddenly there’s low laughter in his ear, and his downward plunge is abruptly halted, turning into a smooth glide.
Dean’s heart is pounding, clinging to Cas where his arms are wrapped around his middle.
“You motherfucker,” he mumbles. The wind buffets them slightly and he tightens his grip, shaking his head.
“Second my feet touch ground, I am so kicking your ass,” he mutters.
Castiel just chuckles, prising Dean’s hand from his arm. Dean’s stomach twists as Cas locks their fingers together, slowly stretching his arm out. Below them, the city lights twinkle, mirroring the stars dancing around them.
“You won’t fall,” comes Cas’s soft reassurance.
Dean swallows, trying not to think about the drop below them. Cas is a solid and warm presence at his back, but Dean just wants to get vertical as soon as humanly possible.
They had been on Dean’s bed (no, not cuddling, thank you very much—Cas was just very comfortable and Dean was resting against him, okay) and somehow Dean and his stupid mouth spilled about him being afraid of heights, and then, well. Now apparently they’re doing Flying 101.
Jesus. You say one thing, and then your angel drops you into the stratosphere.
Jaycee was sure she had given everyone who knew her, who knew how she had been lately, complete and utter whiplash when she texted them that morning, bright and early, telling them they were going to go to Coney Island. Tyler had texted her to fuck off and that he was going back to sleep, but Peyton and Rosalina were both up for it. They had gotten there right around the time everything was opening up, and for the first time since the breakup, Jaycee felt happy and excited and almost hopeful. They were getting ready to ride the Cyclone, and Rosa was telling the story of “Remember how Peyton got sick on it a few years back” and Peyton was blushing and saying it honestly wasn’t his fault, and Jaycee was laughing and having a good time. This was why she loved her friends. This was why she needed this. “Of course it wasn’t your fault, Pey,” She teased, “it was the mean old roller coaster.” He grinned and pushed her lightly, her hair swinging out, even in it’s new cropped state.
“I still can’t get over your hair.” Rosalina said as Jaycee ran her hand through it for what was probably the millionth time. “I know,” She replied, “I feel like a different person. It’s so-” She stopped talking when she saw a figure up ahead, thinking it was Rory. Her heart thudded, and she hoped she was wrong. Rosalina and Peyton followed her gaze “Oh for the love of god.” Rosalina muttered at the same time as Peyton said something about his cousins. Jaycee barely heard either of them, her heart thudded so loud. She grabbed both of her companions and started speeding up, hoping to dodge them, even with Peyton there and his cousins being with Rory. She hoped she hoped she hoped.
When I still lived on Earth, my parents used to take me to get my hair cut in a little place run by two French-Algerian brothers. They talked in a bubbling stew of English, French and Arabic while a newsfeed babbled away on a screen hanging high in the corner.
It felt somehow exciting and alien, like a pocket of another world, away from the everyday of our apartment and school and the sims and the behavioural therapy sessions. I used to be scared of going in there, but also look forward to it, like it was a rickety old roller-coaster or something.
I was a kid then, maybe eleven or twelve, my dad sitting on the patched fake leather bench reading something on his tablet while the brothers snipped away, arguing about the news.
That’s where we were when the news about the Gate broke. I remember one of the brothers – the bald one – standing there with those pointy scissors in his hand, still flexing his fingers reflexively, mouth open as he listened to the announcer.
That was years ago. Of course now I live on the Station, and I see more sentient species in a week than I got haircuts as a kid. Culture shock? See the creature you’re negotiating with casually eat one of their own children during a meeting, then talk to me about culture shock.
Hard to imagine that a little barbers’ shop could have seemed exotic, once.
Funny how life can shift your perspective.
OK, that’s 345 stories. Only 20 stories to go for the whole year. Here we go.