An hour ago, if somebody had told Jason that his night would get worse, he probably wouldn’t have believed them— it was bad enough already. He was back in Gotham (the second time since he’d crawled out of his own tomb), and he’d immediately run into one of the people he’d really, really been hoping to avoid.
“Oh,” the kid had said, “It’s you.”
That was all. He’d held his staff out warily too, which was reasonable, considering everything that had happened the last time the two of them had met. Honestly, Jason would have expected a stronger reaction. New kid was very calm.
Not so much anymore.
Fear toxin. Jason knew the feeling. He was fine, of course— safe underneath his helmet— but Drake didn’t have that kind of cover, and he’d gone down quickly. He was lying in the alleyway, twitching quietly, and Jason didn’t really know what to do about it.
It wasn’t his concern, was it? He didn’t ask Drake to show up. They weren’t working together— they’d met up completely by accident, chasing the same lead. This kind of thing happened sometimes; Lord knew Jason had been through enough of Crane’s fearscapes in his time.
Which was making it really hard to leave, even though that was absolutely what he should be doing. Running. Before Batman showed up.
“Dammit,” Jason muttered, bending over the other kid’s body. “Hey, listen— you gotta get back to the cave. I don’t have an antidote for this stuff. Can you walk?” Drake didn’t respond, so Jason reached out a hand, intending to shake him awake.
That did the trick— before Jason could make contact, the other kid pushed himself upright and dragged himself backwards, away from Jason and against the wall. He pulled his knees up to his chest.
“Don’t touch me.”
“Fine.” Jason could respect that. “Whatever. Go home. Can you make it by yourself?”
Drake’s eyes closed again— his hands, clasped around his legs, were shaking. Jason could hear him hyperventilating. He had about thirty seconds, Jason figured, before the hallucinations started, and that meant no, he couldn’t get home by himself. He wouldn’t be going anywhere.
“Alright,” he decided. “I’ve got a bike a few streets over. I can carry you to the—”
“I said no.” Drake was struggling to breathe now, shuddering with the effort of it. His eyes were wide behind his mask. He scooped up his staff from the asphalt and leveled it at Jason, forcing him a few steps back down the street.
“Get away from me.”
“I said get away!” He stared at Jason, past Jason, blankly. The nightmares had started— who knew what he was seeing now? It could be anything. In a hellpit like Gotham, there were infinite options.
But Jason needed to get him home, so he took a step forward and grabbed the end of the staff, trying to wrench it away. Drake didn’t take that well.
“No!” He yanked back his staff and then jabbed it at Jason’s chest. “I’m sorry, okay! I didn’t mean to— I didn’t—” He was still gasping for air. “I was just trying to help. You were dead! How was I supposed to know you would—?”
Oh, Jason though, he’s still talking to me. I’m in his fearscape. Great.
“I thought he needed—”
Jason pulled the staff away and threw it behind him, back towards the mouth of the alley. “Yeah yeah, you thought he needed you. I get it.”
“He needed you. Next best thing.” Drake threw his arms in front of his head, trying to shield his face. “Please don’t…”
Christ. “I’m not going to hurt you, okay? Just… stay there for a bit. I’m backing away now. See?” Jason retreated up the alley with his hands held out in front of him. Maybe that would make Drake feel better.
What was he supposed to do? He wouldn’t be able to take Drake home himself, not if he was going to fight like that the entire way. He didn’t have many options. He could leave— he probably should leave. The toxin would wear off eventually. With all of the confusion, the other kid might not even remember that Jason was actually there— he would be another hallucination.
Or. Jason pulled out his phone and stared at the empty screen. He could— Dammit. Dammit. Fine. He chose the lesser of two evils and dialed.
a list of some famous and (probably) gay composers
We start this ride with our beloved Tchaikovsky, his sexuality being more well known, but also his story very sad. Legend (wikipedia) says that he composed his violin concerto while recovering in a resort in Switzerland from a stormy marriage with his wife. One of his composition students, Iosif Kotek, joined him, and it is probable that Kotek acted as a sort of inspiration or motivation for the violin concerto, even though Tchaikovsky didn’t dedicate it to him in order to avoid gossip about their true relationship. It is pretty certain that Tchiakovsky and Kotek were lovers at one point, as much as Tchaikovsky’s sexuality was trying to be repressed. Here’s a cute pic of the very dapper and charming Kotek and Tchaikovsky!
More openly gay we have Poulenc, who’s first committed relationship was with Richard Chanlaire, a painter. I can’t find any pictures of the two together, but Poulenc dedicated his Concert champêtreto Chanlaire, and wrote in his dedication to Chanlaire “You have changed my life, you are the sunshine of my thirty years, a reason for living and for working.”
Benjamin Britten, too was openly gay in his lifetime, but although he was subject to anti-gay laws in Britain - in 1953 he received a visit from the police and was so distressed that he suggested a “sham-marriage” to his long-time boyfriend, Peter Pears, which would be marrying a woman in order to stop being harmed because of their sexualities - he did not try to hide it and luckily more people treated him as he should have been treated than people who treated him badly. Britten and Pears’s relationship is one the most heart-warming things I can think of though, for example here’s an extract from a letter written by Britten to Pears - “My darling heart (perhaps an unfortunate phrase, but I can’t use any other) … I do love you so terribly, not only glorious you, but your singing. … What have I done to deserve such an artist and man to write for? … I love you, I love you, I love you.” Here’s a picture of the two
This brings us to Samuel Barber, and Gian Menotti, who met as students together at Curtis and then stayed on to be lifelong partners until Barber’s death in 1981. In this photo you see Barber (middle,) and Menotti (left.)
And the other person in the photo? Is America’s Aaron Copland. Copland protected his personal life, but that he had relationships with young men was not a secret. Probably the most famous of these relationship was his one with Viktor Kraft, who he first met when Kraft was 17 and Copland 32. Kraft was a prodigious student of Copland’s, and I would say that one of the most prominent events in their relationship would be when Copland accepted an invitation to go to New Mexico for 2 months and brought Kraft. They ended up staying in New Mexico for 5 months, which inspired Copland’s El Salón Mexicó. El Salón Mexicó became very successful, which influenced Copland and Kraft’s move to Manhattan together. There, Kraft stopped pursuing music and took care of the household while also becoming a respected photojournalist. From then on it’s a little bit of a mess. Copland’s fame kept on taking him out of New York and Kraft was often alone. In that time, Kraft began to have an affair with Bernstein, and later even married a female writer, Pearl Kazin. Predictably, that marriage fell apart and Kraft fell back to Copland. Throughout their rebound, Copland had multiple affairs with younger men still, which placed a lot of stress on Kraft, who eventually remarried and moved a few houses away from Copland. Then still, Kraft and Copland continued to have sexual relations with one another until Copland’s death in 1976.
Bernstein was mentioned in the relationship with Kraft and Copland a few times, and maybe considering the flamboyant-type stereotypes of gay people maybe his sexuality doesn’t come as much of a surprise. But Bernstein was one of the many gay men and women who would end up marrying the opposite sex to have a more stable reputation. Here he is with his wife, Felicia.
this is not intended to harm anyone :) i’d love to talk more on this subject also and if you know any more information/are curious about something it would be great to hear it!
This is what happens when I listen to the Beauty and the Beast soundtrack at 3 a.m. while thinking about Sterek (also on ao3!)
When Stiles invited himself over to Derek’s loft for quote ‘Netflix and chill’, Derek had a very clear idea of how the evening was going to play out. But even in his wildest dreams, Derek never would have expected this.
He had expected Stiles to arrive in his usual whirlwind of flannel and sarcasm and blinding grins, greeting him with a smirk and a wink if he was feeling particularly bold. Expected a deep, dirty hello kiss and an appreciative once over as Stiles plopped down on the couch.
Admittedly, Stiles had arrived in his usual fashion, letting himself in without bothering to knock like he owned the place. But there was no flannel or ironic graphic shirt in sight, Stiles instead wearing his red hoodie over a plain gray t-shirt.
He had still greeted Derek with a wide smile but there was no hint of suggestion in it, nothing indicating that he was thinking about doing anything other than simply watching a movie. Even the kiss Stiles gave him as he took a seat on the couch was just a quick peck on the cheek.
But there was no trace of anything disconcerting in Stiles’ scent, nothing that would set off any alarm bells. Only excitement and contentedness radiated from Stiles as he efficiently set up his Xbox and pulled up Netflix.
Derek expected Stiles to pick a movie from his preferred genre, an action packed thriller featuring a gratuitous amount of violence and explosions and unnecessary female nudity. Or, if not that, some sort of sci-fi flick with terrible CGI and too bright fake blood and just as much unnecessary nudity.
But with a few taps of the buttons on his Xbox controller and a brief use of the joystick, Stiles navigated to the Disney movie section. With another flick of the joystick and a few more clicks, Stiles queued up the new Beauty and the Beast movie.
He had glanced up at Derek out of the corner of his eye, chewing his bottom lip almost nervously. Setting down the controller on the coffee table, Stiles leaned back on the couch and softly murmured, “You don’t mind, do you?”
It's nearly Bucky's 100th birthday! Tell me Sam's going to be all over that (...hard mythical) dick? ;)
“Nearly your birthday,” Sam says one morning, mostly murmuring it into the tangle of Bucky’s hair. Bucky groans. Pushes his face into the pillow as if he’s still half-asleep and trying to ignore Sam. Sam ignores the hint. “What, you don’t wanna remember your birthday? Gonna hit a hundred, kid, that’s worth something.”
“Oh my god,” Bucky groans. “Do you gotta?”
“If you were in England, you’d get a card from the Queen,” Sam continues, cheerfully relentless. “You want a cake? I’ll bake you a cake.”
“I met the Queen, once,” Bucky says, rolling over like he’s giving up on getting any more sleep this morning. Sam’d feel bad, if it weren’t already at least nine; as it is he just drapes one arm over Bucky’s hip, lets himself stroke his fingers down the muscle of Bucky’s thigh.
“You did not,” he says, and Bucky shrugs.
“I fuckin’ did, okay, just ask Steve. I mean, ‘s not like I knew she was the Queen at the time, right. She was nice, though. Real straightforward, you wouldn’t have picked it.”
“So maybe she will send you a birthday card,” Sam teases. Feels Bucky nip at the column of his throat, just the quickest graze of teeth. “I’m serious, baby, what do you want? Cake? A party hat? We could ask SHIELD if they can brew you some kind of super-proof liquor, set you on your ass.”
“Nah,” Bucky murmurs. “I’m good.”
“Aw, come on,” Sam wheedles. “You know my mom’ll want to cook you dinner at least, right?”
“I do love your mama’s cooking,” Bucky admits. Kisses Sam’s throat again, lips soft against Sam’s skin. “It’s just. I dunno. I’m not actually a hundred years old, you know that, right? The last birthday I remember I was all of 27. It just, it feels like-”
“Like what?” Sam asks, when Bucky goes silent and still. Bucky hums under his breath like he’s thinking.
“Feels like I got cheated out of time. Or maybe I cheated, I dunno. Both.”
“Oh,” Sam says. Thinks about it for a few minutes, brushing kisses absently along Bucky’s hairline. “Well, you don’t have to be a hundred, right? How old you want to be, huh? Twenty eight? Thirty? You look like you’re all of thirty, you little shit.”
“Thirty seems reasonable,” Bucky agrees. “Fuck it, why not. A hundred, shit, I don’t even have any gray hairs yet.”
“Well,” Sam says, “I got news for you on that front, Barnes,” and feels Bucky freeze up as if he’s shocked. “Yeah, you haven’t noticed? A streak of them, right here. You’re gonna look older than me in no time, that’s just how it goes.”
“Goddamn,” Bucky laughs. “Well, you better get on with fucking me before I wither up, sweetheart.”
“Oh,” Sam growls, “I better, huh?” and pushes Bucky flat on his back, watches him go sweet and breathless and beautiful. It’s like I got cheated out of time, he thinks again of Bucky saying, and thinks, yeah, maybe he did, maybe he got years and years stolen from him, but this future, it’s theirs for the having.
hi! so sorry i'm asking you guys, i'd hate to give you more work. but, i've been looking for this story forever. basically, dan thinks of killing himself but phil stops him, and promises to give him a reason to live every single day. at the end of a given amount of time, if dan still isn't convinced, he can kill himself. at the end, phil's last reason is "falling in love". if you could find it, that would be amazing!! i've loved this blog for over a year now, thanks so much for all you do!!
There is a Light That Never Goes Out- (tw) When Dan Howell goes to end his life one night, he doesn’t expect to find a stranger who proposes a deal. If Dan gives him thirty days, Phil will give him thirty reasons to live. If at the end of the month and Dan still feels the same, then Phil will leave him alone.
I’ve always felt like I didn’t belong. My parents always fought constantly about everything and I was always in the middle of their quarrels. As I grew from a child to a teenager I would always find solace from the turmoil in books of every kind. My favorite books always consisted of knights, elves, princes, and princesses. As I read these books it was as if my mind was always removed from its vessel and transported to these magical worlds it created.
My school life wasn’t much better than my home life. For some weird reason I had been born with pointy ears, and the other kids at school avoided me and mocked me for my ears. They would always come up behind me and jerk on my ears making hateful comments and then run off laughing. It was worse when I was a kid, but as I grew they had started to avoid me saying I was unnaturally tall and beautiful; it was also strange that when they hurt me I would always heal quicker than a normal person.
Today was just like any other day as I sat at my usual lunch table alone reading my favorite book “The Lord of the Rings” but this time as I read through it; it was as if the pictures in my head were coming alive around me. I could see the elves traveling through the woods as if I was standing next to Frodo and Sam myself.
All of the sudden the school cafeteria vanishes from around me making me jump from my seat in shock leaving nothing but a vivid wasteland of ash, rock, and molten rock. “What the?” I say as I start to instantly feel the feel of heat and the eye of something gaze upon me. I turn around to see as if I was standing there in front of his tower the eye of Sauron peering down at me. My eyes widen in fear as I fear his voice inside my head, “I found you, lost child of Middle Earth.”
Before I had a chance to reply I feel something shove me to the floor and I quickly blink my eyes to see that I am once again in my cafeteria. I look around at all the people staring at me as I look back to see who had knocked me over. I Notice right away the Abercrombie and Fitch blue blouse as that of the head cheerleader Susan Evans and let out an annoyed sigh as I push myself up off the ground. “Freaks should watch out where they are having their crazy episodes.” She says as she flips her long blonde hair and then turning away walks off laughing. I roll my eyes as I walk back over to my table and grabbing my books and backpack head toward the office.
I ignore all the judgmental looks and cheesy remarks as I quickly make my way through the hallway to the office where I see the receptionist on the phone. Taking a deep breath I sneak past her and make a break for the front door. When I am safely outside I take a deep breath of the freshly mowed grass and instantly feel my body relax. I feel tears start to sting the corners of my eyes but I quickly shake my head knocking all the bad feelings out of my head and then I start the long road home.
This wasn’t the first time I had left school and it seemed like neither the teachers nor my parents cared. For some reason the thirty minute drive seemed like such a short walk. It never took me too long to make it through the woods and fields until I made it to my sanctuary. My sanctuary consisted of a grassy meadow filled with wildflowers, a clear spring fed stream flowed right through the center, a few shade trees, and all the wildlife you could think of.
I walk up to the stream and tossing my backpack down on its edge throw myself down and let the tears leave my eyes. All I had ever wanted was a place to feel normal and loved but I was just wishful thinking, a place like that could never exist for a freak like me. I sat there for what seemed like hours when I finally felt the tears dry out. I look around to see that the sun had started to set in the sky and quickly grabbing my bag hurry to my house.
As if right on queue I walk through the door to my parents screaming at each other but this time something felt different. “You should have just left her in that ditch where you found her!” I heard my father yell at my mother and my heart sinks. “Are they talking about me?” I think to myself as I silently peek around the corner to hear more of their conversation.
“What did you expect me to do I could just leave a baby no matter what it looked like.” My heart drops as I hear the next words uttered, “Ever since we took that freak into our home everyone looks at us differently they mock us and call us names and I can’t keep a job because of that thing!” I reach up and covering my mouth backing up I end up knocking over a lamp and I instantly see my mother’s face peek around the corner and as her gaze finds me her eyes widen in panic. “_____?” Before she has a chance to say another word I turn and run as fast as I can leaving everything I knew behind.
Before I realize how far I had gone I look around to see that I no longer recognize anything around me. “Elvish Princess I have found you,” I hear that same voice from earlier say and I turn to see Sauron’s flaming eye peering deep into my soul. I suddenly feel fear and anguish overcome me making me fall backwards only instead of hitting the ground my body just keeps falling. I look around to no longer see a ground beneath me but a void of empty space. I let out a blood curdling scream and closing my eyes grab my arms and hold my body tight, silently praying for something or someone to save me. Then as if someone heard my prayer I feel a hand touch my face and I open my eyes to see an older man with a long grey beard his blue orbs gazing down into my (E/C) eyes.
My fears and worry melt away as he says, “My dear ______, it’s about time you find your way home; back to Lothlorien.”
“Lothlorien?” I say as I suddenly feel the softness of grass beneath my body. “Who are you?” I ask as I feel my strength start to leave me.
“My name dear princess is Gandalf, Gandalf the Grey.” Before I could even react I black out. My world goes dark but I still feel the presence of the mysterious old man who claimed to have the same name as Middle Earth’s Wizard.
I think one of my favorite things I’ve learned about Dear Evan Hansen is how it did a complete 180 degree rotation from when Pasek and Paul set out to write it.
From a couple of interviews I’ve read and seen, it seems like when they first started writing, it was going to be more of a satire piece on how teenagers react to a tragedy. You know the kind, we’ve all seen them, the kind of thing that was written by people over thirty who for some reason has come up with the inexplicable idea that anyone more than ten years younger than them is a self obsessed vapid parasite who has had their phone surgically attached to their hand. The original driving force was going to be poking fun at teens who spin a crisis that had nothing to do with them into a story that required everyone to pay attention to them.
But as Pasek and Paul wrote, they realized that jesus christ we’ve had this all wrong the whole time. Through research and putting themselves in their character’s shoes, they realized that the reactions to teen suicides they’d observed only at first glance look like “ME ME ME! Make this about me!”. They realized those were really “Everyone’s in pain, and maybe I can help before the pain makes someone do this again.” That is how we got the musical we love. That is how the characters become so well-rounded and real.
Just, I really like it when people learn after getting things wrong.