insert witty one liner of choice here

I like darkfic and formulaic Titans Tower AUs. Both of those get a lot of hate in this fandom.

You can send in fic written by people who have never interacted with anything DC before, or are only into Wayne Family Adventures

You can send in crossovers, even the really 'cringy' ones

You can send in Batcest, even if it's stuff that would actually be incest if it was real

You can send in stuff written for widely hated movies, or for the Teen Titans Go cartoon

You can send in old man yaoi, or toxic femslash, or fic where the happy couple goes furniture shopping (~shiver~)

You can send in xReader fic

I love people showing me different parts of this fandom I love, even if they aren't parts I can go to myself! (Even the villain shipping. Even if it's Bane/John Blake. I do not understand, but I enjoy your excitement!)

-

I love them. Some headcanons:

Wally and Dick first kissed on a dare and they were both giggling because "this is so stupid" but they both got really confused afterward because damn.

Years later, their first "hookup" was after a really wild night out and they woke up in the same bed and for a second they were horrified because "that's my best friend??" but when they talked it through, they decided to try out dating seriously. They find out later that they never hooked up that first time.

Wally thinks he's the jealous one, he really hates people flirting with Dick but tries not to show it because he trusts Dick. He does. Dick on the other had is crazy as fuck when it comes to Wally. He will slash tires.

When they do sun holidays, Dick lives in the sun while Wally has to stay in doors or he might burst into flames.

Dick likes spicy food, really spicy food while Wally thinks mild is too strong.

Wally can't cook so Dick handles the cooking but he always picks up Dick's favourite take out or runs by the Manor to pick up dinner from Alfred.

Neither are the big spoon or the little spoon, Dick just sleeps on top of Wally like a weighted blanket.

Our sales for the Weird Art Zine are officially open!! If you're interested in over 80 pages of original art and writing, 5 incredible pieces of merch, and a whole lotta weirdness- you'll love this zine!!

It's Pay What You Want (starting at $5) on ko-fi and all proceeds will go to the Trevor Project! Sales end July 1st! Get it while you can!

CARRD

And it ended up not really being suitable for my purposes, as it goes. But part of the book is actually devoted to Kenelm, the author’s oldest son…and man, his dad loved him.

Kenelm seems to have had a fairly typical upbringing for a young English gentleman, although he is a bit slow to read. At twelve he’s sent to board at Stoneyhurst College—often the big step towards independence in a boy’s life, as he’ll most likely only see his parents sporadically from now on, and then leave for university.

When he’s sixteen, however, his father moves the whole family to France, so Kenelm gets pulled out of school to be with them again. Shortly after the move, his dad notices that he seems depressed. Kenelm confides in him that he’s been suffering from “scruples” for the last eighteen months—most likely what we’d now call an anxiety disorder.

And his dad is pissed—at the school, because apparently Kenelm had been seeking help there and received none, despite obviously struggling with mental health issues. So his dad takes it seriously. He sets him up to be counseled by a priest—there were no therapists back then—and doesn’t send him away to be boarded again, instead teaching him at home himself.

And his mental health does improve. His dad describes him as well-liked, gentle, pious, kind and eager to please others; at twenty he’s thinking about a career in diplomacy or going into the military—which his dad thinks he is not particularly suited for, considering his favorite pastimes are drawing and reading. He’s excited about his family’s upcoming move to Italy, and he’s been busy learning Italian and teaching it to his siblings.

Henry Kenelm Beste dies of typhus at twenty years, four months, and twenty-five days. That’s how his dad records it. That’s why his dad is telling this story. It’s not an extraordinary story—Kenelm’s story struck me because he sounds so…ordinary, like so many kids today. And he was so, so loved. His dad tried hard to help him compassionately with his mental health at a time where our current knowledge and support systems didn’t exist. You can feel how badly he wanted his son to be remembered and loved, to impress how dearly beloved he was to the people who knew him in life.

I hope he’d be glad to know someone is still thinking of Kenelm over 200 years later.