#(the opposite of insomnia... at least in theory)

[haberdashing]

upsides to having idiopathic hypersomnia: i can tell people that a doctor diagnosed me with a case of the sleepytireds and i am, essentially, telling the truth

[dailyrothko]

Hi! I’m already drawn to Rothko’s art so much just by looking at his paintings on my tiny phone screen. But it is quite unlikely that I’ll get to see his paintings irl, at least not for a few years. Would you mind sharing your experience of looking at a Rothko? Thank you for putting in the work on this blog :)

Hi, I'm sorry I didn't answer this sooner but Tumblr has not been notified me that I have messages and I forgot to check. I've had a coupled of weeks of insomnia so you may have to forgive some languid prose.

In my early viewings of Rothko, I think my reactions were fairly standard exchanges with modern art when you're getting acclimated. Among these, were how big the paintings were, and I duplicated this surprise in my viewings of a couple of other abstract, expressionist painters, notably in my mind, Franz Kline, Jackson Pollock and Lee Krasner along with Rothko.

I think there's a hand in the hand reaction about the size that then you are aware the paintings are not hard edged, the way, say an Ellsworth Kelly painting would be. There's a plastic look effective in pop-art that Rothko strenuously avoided. They are undeniably sensual, almost romantic.

Once you get the size, you can really appreciate this because when you read art monographs or look at the internet, the lens is so reduced, one tends to get a constricted notion of color squares like you would see in a color theory book. However, the face-to-face confrontation reveals quite the opposite feeling of that kind of art.

It's a little hard to describe, but it's not that the paintings are completely soft. They have a lot of minor details, brushstrokes, stray lines and bits of splattered paint, but none of those colliding forces interfere with an overall limitless impression of the form that makes it very different from hard edge or gestural painting (like de Kooning). Part of what's hard to describe, is how it is not soft, but rather translucent, not vague, but flowering out to infinity.

I find with Rothko in particular that when you start looking, you want to keep looking. I suppose one of his detractors might say you're doing it because you're looking for something where there is nothing, but my experience with art is that, where there is nothing you quickly move on. Rothko might be equated in some minds with an Antonioni movie (Certainly Antonioni himself thought this) where it has a quality of nothingness but not one of no meaning. We read meaning into everything we are exposed to, it's part of how our brains process things, but perhaps Rothko's great skill is inviting you to look. i would not be the first to think so.

My tendency to invest in things I like leads me to unconsciously test myself as if from the outside, making sure that I am not fooling myself as to the merit of it (who wants to be a sucker, right?) and, I've seen a couple over the years that I felt didn't age well, maybe, something about them didn't look as alive, not the color combinations, but possibly something with the paint dulling overtime. I don't think galleries like to talk about it because the artist so valuable as an investment, but you do see, if rarely, paintings would you feel maybe age got the better of. Much of this, though can be attributed to the way light works with Rothko. The public tends to gripe when a gallery is not brightly lit, but Rothkos tend to wilt under bright lights and lose depth. This has a lot to do with the fact that Rothko painted in dim light like El Greco, and voiced his paintings to speak this way.

When they do work, which is quite often, it's pretty vivid, and I feel, entrancing. When I first got really interested in Rothko in my late teenage years, I did not know a single person who was interested in it among my group of friends and I bought a poster from the cover of Bonnie Clearwater's works on paper book and I hung it on my wall. It was a conversation starter because nobody liked it! I suppose that's the age where some people are geared towards something more classically punchy.

My feeling of the paintings, especially early in my life, remind me of an effect one might feel from music that you've never heard before, much like the response I had from the early rural blues music of the late 1920s. I didn't know how much I loved it exactly, I only knew that it was powerfully beckoning me to return. And, as one returns, you participate in a communion. You relax into it and the feelings you have rise to the surface, sometimes framing emotionally charged interchange between you and the art. I think that's a lovely thing to get from whatever kind of art you like.

Now, I am kind of an old hand at seeing Rothko paintings, but I rarely cease to be surprised by them and that maybe that is their finest attribute.

I can't imagine this helps much, but I hope that when you do see one in person, you will write and share your impressions, because after all, they are the ones that count

[alabyte]

HEADCANON TIME: Crosshair's inhibitor chip.

I've seen a lot of theories that Crosshair's chip is actually still in his head. That he is still affected by it, and since the end of the S1 he was dealing with the consequences of chip malfunctioning.

Okay, but... Imagine how much worse it would be if the chip was actually removed.

His chip was removed after the mission on Bracca: at first, the Kaminoans were worried that the resulting injuries could affect the effectivity of the chip; secondly, they wanted to do a valid experiment with their own hands - after all, both clones that underwent the removal of the chip were dead, and both operations were carried out unauthorized.

And after removing the chip, Crosshair faced all the consequences of this experiment.

The insomnia that haunts him from that moment on is an operational complication, because despite all the available data, equipment and experience, the operation still carried risks in his condition. And this insomnia has not left him since that moment. It will not disappear if something is cut out of his head, because everything is already cut out.

His mind was free again, but at what cost? When first activated, the chip genuinely made him believe in the need to follow the order, but left him with some free will. But after enhancing the chip on Kamino Cross was literally locked in his own head. He was a tool in the hands of the Empire, whose hands brought order through pain, and he could not do anything about it. After the chip was removed, he again became "himself", but the memory of the time when he was not in control of himself did not disappear anywhere. And every night, when he manages to fall asleep, he will wake up from these memories: from Depa's heart-rending scream during Order 66, from the screams of civilians in the camp on Onderon, from all the blood that was on his hands. He will be forced to live with the knowledge that the shed of this blood will forever remain on his hands.

And he tried to force his brothers to join the Empire not because he was sacredly loyal to the command and the new alignment of forces. He just knew that at least that way they wouldn't be on opposite sides of the barricades, and he had a vague hope that at least that way he wouldn't have to become their enemy again.

And all the mistakes, all the choices made after Bracca, are his own mistakes and choices. Not the chip. Not the Empire. His own.

And he will have to live with this thought until the very end.

[shine-reblogs]

Submachine Legacy: additional commentary (Monoliths, Shattered Quadrant, and other details)

Apparently I am NOT done talking about this game, lol. To see me talking about the main levels + optional ruins, check my previous post. Beware of spoilers.

General comments

I must comment on the map/menu/however this is called because I noticed (rather late) on my going back and forth the details literally surrounding each level. Namely, how level 3 and 'break the loop' are in the middle a spiral, I assume to symbolize the loopy nature of the locations. Level 6 is in the middle of an octagon, kind of like a shield, which goes well with it being the defence systems of the Submachine. Level 7 lays in the middle of many more concentrical circles, which I'm guessing has to do something about it being the Core of the Submachine. And level 8 rests against seven parallel lines, which goes nicely with you jumping through the seven main layers in that level.

I may be, once again, reading too much into details, but I think it makes enough sense and I like it. Kind of wondering now if level 9 shouldn't have something special about it too as the Knot.

Anyway.

Monoliths/Secrets

So, I was right in the end that we'll have to come back to this with the navigator, but wrong in the we actually can't take the navigator with us and must jump back and forth between levels (so much going back and forth). Anyway, this gives us new tidbits of Submachine lore (which is nice).

This goes on in the Lighthouse. Love how the fact that different versions of the game exist is being incorporated to the lore.

Finally figured how this one worked out. Turns out in the end the Loop did have a layer coordinate thingy (which I started suspecting when I didn't find one at level 7 either) it just was hidden as a secret. Kind of a pity, since I liked the idea of loops being something that maybe existed outside/beyond layers maybe. It's not like I had a lot of time to think about this/develop it into a proper theory, so it's not like I was super attached to it either, so it's fine.

Lots of portals but no notes in level 4 (that I remember, I binge-played the unlocking Monoliths and it's kinda blurry what is from what level. Should have named the screenshots, lol). BUT! We finally can unlock that door from Sub4, which was satisfying.

Level 5 is as in 4, meaning no notes found. But again, I like how you could finally see what was behind that closed door though!

Lots of goodies in level 6! It was nice to get extra content while also keeping the 'secret' notes we had in the originals. Go hunting lore.

I love this. I love the note talking about the significance of 32 when it's something we've all collectively lost our minds about. I love this xD

Here we got the same notes we did in the originals, but as a matter of fact I did not remember the one screenshot here and WHAT?! If I weren't so sleepy right now I'd be talking about it probably (as it is I am surprised I can write anything with a semblance of coherence right now, may my insomnia fuck off and leave me alone).

I'm gonna be very honest, I needed the help of the very kind people making guides on Steam for this because I had all the secrets but couldn't figure out how to access the secret room (previously I got the opposite problem, could access the portals but didn't have the secrets to power them). The notes are the same that we had in the originals.

And last but not least level 10, were I thought there was only one secret area but there were two! I thought it wa really cool that you use the pearls and stone cubes for this.

The notes here seem to be more or less the same as the originals, but thw wording has been changed some and we're also being teased about the Engine which has me vibrating.

All in all, nice little extras! Shattered Quadrant will come in the reblogs when I get to play it (yes I know I'm slow playing. Do not judge me)

[awlwren-writes]

For Alexander: 📚🔺️🍎

Alexander (first name pending) is Cor’s secretary, the poor man.

📚 - what level of education has your oc most recently completed/is currently in (GED, undergraduate, grad school, phd, etc)?

Alexander probably has a two-year degree from a secretary school, originally, but I think did night classes to get a bachelor’s in management while he worked. If he doesn’t have the actual degree, he has the equivalent in classes here and there.

He did an internship at the Citadel either concurrently to or immediately after his original degree, and earned a position of trust and, with time, a fair amount of clearance.

🔺 — does your oc know how to use any weapons?

I still tend to think Lucis retains a fair amount of martial culture, so most people learn one or two weapons at least to a basic level. A coming of age event is binding your (first) weapon. The standard, if you’re not that talented and/or from a wealthy background, is a pike, with everyone doing like some minor formation drilling during gym classes growing up. The theory is it teaches discipline and teamwork. Perhaps there is a slower, meditative version as well, that those less interested in the battle side of things do during their scheduled practice mornings on Mutsday and the like. Who doesn’t enjoy swinging sticks around (with adequate spacing)?

So technically he can use a spear. He has a fairly nice one after all these years working with the Guard, but he uses it more for fitness training than any actual attempt at prowess.

A persistent rumor around the Citadel (fanned much higher after his “duel” with Cor) is that his bonded weapon is a stapler. Alexander alternately encourages it and denies it, but no one wiling to admit to it has honestly seen him summon either item.

🍎 - where was your oc born? do they still live in/around their place of birth or do they live somewhere else? how do they feel about their birthplace?

He was born in Insomnia, probably one of the outer edges that got swallowed up as the city grew. He always thought it was basically the city growing up, but it’s become even more urban since. It’s all high rises there, now, and he hardly can navigate it because many of the familiar landmarks are gone or too run down.

Most of his family is gone or not particularly close, though he does occasionally visit his sister’s family for holidays and the like. She has moved to the opposite side of the city, though, so it doesn’t bring him back there, and he is more than fine with that.

[folliesandfolderols]

Writing prompts day 62-69 redux

From this prompt list.

So, fun fact, I wrote like 4500 words for the actual days 62-whatever, but then I had to cut them because they jumped the emotional progression too far down the line. They'll come later! (I'm talking about the words themselves, but Tim and Damian will also come later.)

From this prompt list. If you’ve read this far, I’m not sure you need any explanation, but the short version is I hadn’t written any fiction since 2019, I set a goal to write at least 150 words/day in 2024, and this list was my way to restart. Also I abruptly decided on day 2 I would write an entire Tim/Damian story connecting all the prompts, because I am Good at Judging My Limits. /sarcasm Anyway, I finished the rough draft a while ago and am now unlocking the old entries as I edit.

Read from the beginning here, or on ao3 here

Days 58-60 here

***

139. "Need a hand?"

***

Dick didn’t always have advice to give, but when he did Tim at least considered taking it, so the next day he decided to look at the evidence as soon as he got home from patrol. He was still too wired to sleep. Creating a timeline of events was one of the most important aspects of investigation, so he started by sitting down on his couch, closing his eyes, and pinning events on his mental screen.

First, Damian had approached him, saying he wanted to get rid of his virginity and that Tim was an acceptable choice while refusing any other explanation. Try as he might, Tim couldn’t remember some of the details of his expressions and body language because he’d been caught off guard. It had come out of the blue—

No, wait.

It hadn’t come out of the blue, because Damian had approached him for weeks before that on pretexts Tim had been confused by at the time. So a couple of possibilities: Damian had been trying to work up the courage to ask for what he’d wanted and had needed a few weeks to do so, or, Damian had actually . . . wanted to spend time with him?

Tim stared at that note, branching off the timeline with three flashing question marks, and moved on.

Next, they’d fucked. Damian had been an asshole at first, which was to be expected since he was nervous and absolutely hated not being the most superior person in the room. But after that, he’d turned sweet, asked if he could kiss Tim, and even agreed to spend the night. Which was another point in favor of the theory of Damian wanting to spend time with him.

After that had been the time Damian asked him if it was normal to think about a hookup for weeks afterward. Because he’d been thinking about Tim for weeks.

Hmm. Tim gave that incident a mental circle and highlighted it.

That had been closely followed by them fucking again, and Tim had dreamed about Insomnia that same night until Damian woke him up and comforted him. Next was the fight over Damian getting Tim benched because he was concerned about his sleep deprivation, then makeup sex that ended with Damian saying stuff in Arabic that probably shouldn’t have been said. And Damian had called him Timothy.

The next morning, Damian had left without incident. They hadn't spoken in person again until Damian found him at work to complain about Bruce leaving, and that was the end of things till Tim came back from space. Damian hadn’t initiated anything sexual after Tim’s return, but he had definitely taunted, incited, and harassed Tim into responding to him plenty.

Tim reviewed the timeline once he’d finished filling in the remaining dates, dumbfounded. All this seemed to indicate was that Damian liked him.

Which, okay, wasn’t impossible. But even if it wasn’t impossible, it was highly improbable, because he’d seen Jon and Damian together since middle school and the way Damian talked about Jon was the polar opposite of how he talked about Tim. Oaths of undying loyalty, indirect but sincere compliments in person, and grandiose praise when apart. A far cry from his brain’s operations are incomprehensibly juvenile. So, yeah, whatever was going on with Damian, it probably wasn’t true romantic affection, despite whichever postcoital hormones had made him say affectionate things a few times.

Then there was the issue of Tim’s own behavior. Because if he looked at it from an investigative standpoint with himself as the subject, it appeared to be an inescapable fact that he liked Damian. And that was the least disturbing option.

“What the actual fuck,” he whispered. He replayed the events back and forth, a fast-forwarded and rewound mental movie while his heart threatened to beat right out of his chest. The constant nausea and pain expanded to press at his ribs, and for a second he thought he really would throw up. Lying down on his back, he pressed his palms to his face, taking deep breaths. 

He couldn't do this. He just . . . couldn't. Pursuing Damian would be so incredibly stupid. Tim hid things as a matter of course even when it was unnecessary. The privacy of his thoughts was sacrosanct to his wellbeing. Damian never let him hide without demanding he show himself. Every day would be a new level of emotional exposure.

Ever since Bernard, the memory of Kon’s text taunted him, and for a second he grasped at something underlying the surface fear.

"Nightwing requesting assistance," Dick's voice suddenly popped into his ear. With a start, Tim realized he'd never removed his earpiece.

"Batman here, N. What's the situation?"

"Just got a phone call from Shrike in Metropolis. His communicator's been destroyed and Superman is temporarily incapacitated after a run-in with Felix Faust. They're both okay but Shrike needs a ride home because his vehicle was destroyed. I'd go get him myself but I've got work in three hours and I was kind of hoping someone else could do it this time."

Tim cursed. Fucking magic users. And what the hell was Damian doing hanging out with Jon in Metropolis on a weeknight? He was lucky Dick had carried his cell on him while on patrol—a lot of times he didn't. 

From the long pause on Bruce's end of the conversation, he had a feeling his sentiments were shared. "Understood. Let me wrap up what I was doing and —"

Tim's hand flew up to the earpiece. "Sorry, couldn't help but overhear. I got done early so I'll go get him. N, send me a location."

Another long pause, which he decided was indicative of absolutely nothing, because he couldn't handle speculating about what conclusions they were drawing. At last, Dick replied, "Will do."

A second later, Tim's phone buzzed with a pinned location and a note from Dick: He's in civvies.

Well, that made things easier. At least Tim didn't have to put his costume back on. 

This late at night, there was almost no traffic on the road, so he was able to make it to Damian's location in record time. It turned out he was waiting in a 24-hour diner, designer clothes sticking out like a sore thumb in the surrounding clientele of truckers and exhausted road-trippers when Tim stepped inside. Of course, Tim figured he probably wasn't very stealthy himself, but anyone out at this hour wasn't interested in him anyway.

"Hey, Damian," he greeted, soft-voiced, sliding in to the booth opposite him. They'd left off with Tim having inflicted more damage, and he'd taken Damian's lack of movement as he approached as a sign of displeasure. Now that he was close enough to catch microexpressions and see the untouched cup of tea in front of him, he realized Damian was hiding a great deal of pain through his immobility. A pang of worry pushed away more superficial concerns. "Are you ready to leave? Need a hand?"

Damian didn't look up from his folded hands. "Of course I don't need your help, Drake." He made to stand, only to freeze halfway through the motion and sit down with a thump that had him closing his eyes with a sharp inhalation.

Right. Tim moved to sit beside him, keeping a wary eye on Damian’s involuntary flinch as he scooted closer. "Where are you hurt?"

Without opening his eyes, Damian replied, "It's not a physical injury. Faust caught me with the edge of a magic blast and my nerves could only interpret the effect as pain. But I've experienced no wound."

Moving with caution, Tim slipped an arm around Damian's waist. Damian stayed stiff and unresponsive against his side for all of two seconds before his breath released in a sigh and he rested his cheek on the top of Tim's head.

Tim fought a smile, but he couldn't keep it entirely out of his voice. "You must be exhausted. Let's get you home."

"You must be exhausted," Damian muttered, but he leaned into the circle of Tim's arm and allowed him to help him stand.

Once they were in the Taycan, Tim pulled out a medkit and handed over a muscle relaxant and some painkillers, followed by a water bottle he'd brought from home. After Damian swallowed the pills down, Tim reached around him to draw the seatbelt across his torso and buckle him in.

Damian rolled his head on the headrest to watch. "I am not a child."

"Believe me, I'm well aware of that fact." Tim started the car and pulled away from the curb. Damian muttered something inaudible. "What'd you say?"

"I said, then why do you keep acting like I'm one still? Specifically, the one I used to be." Tim stayed silent for so long that Damian finally said, "I might have known you wouldn't give me an answer."

Tim shook his head. "Thinking about it, actually, not refusing to answer. I'm not sure I have an answer to give. It's not just because it's you. I'm very self-protective, Damian, and I don't let people in easily if at all."

"Tt. And that sets you apart from the rest of us, how? The others have grown to trust me, even Todd. A person who beat you till you were bloody more than once, stabbed you with a batarang, and with whom you share an cordial working relationship today, I might add."

The beginnings of a headache began a distant throbbing in the center of Tim's forehead. "I know. But with Jason, it’s different.”

A brief crease of confusion appeared between Damian’s eyebrows. “Because you’ve never slept together? Have you slept together?”

“Please, like he’d ever be interested with Roy right there.” Tim shook his head. “This is why I said I'm an asshole. It's like I can't stop engaging you for some reason, even though I keep telling myself I should leave you alone. I keep trying to quit and then I forget to make myself do it as soon as I see you."

"That's something I feel some kinship with." Damian's eyelids were growing heavier as Tim watched, only half his attention on the near-empty road. "I keep swearing I'll no longer let myself—" He cut himself off with a huge yawn.

Unable to endure not touching him any longer, Tim reached over and threaded their fingers together. "I don't know what to say, because it feels like every time I apologize I do something else that needs another apology right away."

Damian's fingers flexed in his grip. For a sickening moment Tim thought he was going to break free, but he merely rotated his wrist to allow an easier hold. "May I be honest?"

"Please."

"I'm glad it was you, to come get me, tonight." Another yawn. His voice fell to near-inaudible levels. "I tried to distract myself. It didn't work."

"Distract yourself how?" Tim asked, but was only answered by the deep, even breathing that meant the muscle relaxant had finally knocked Damian out.

Once they were back at the Manor, Tim got Damian into his room, stripped him of his more uncomfortable outer clothes with a whispered explanation, tucked him into the bed and stood by its side for a while, watching him settle back into sleep almost immediately. Bruce was probably still in the Cave, ignoring the fact that he had a human body that required occasional sleep. The moonlight peeking through the drawn-back curtains traced the outline of Damian's features in loving detail, highlighting his profile. Tim admired the view until a yawn of his own returned him to the reality of work in the morning, then walked across the room to pull the curtains shut.

All right, it was time to go.

He walked toward the door again, and stalled. His feet wouldn't take him past Damian's bed.

C'mon, Tim. Walk out of the room.

He gazed at the dark lump of Damian's body beneath the covers. The blankets moved with his breathing. Tim watched the rhythmic rise and fall, throat tightening. If Faust had caught him full-on with the eldritch blast, Damian could’ve died tonight. They all knew better than to dwell on could-have-beens, though. That habit tended to lead to second-guessing in situations that were life and death.

Go now. You’ve got work soon and he doesn’t really want you here.

The prospect of leaving him behind suddenly felt unbearable. 

Tim crawled onto the foot of the bed, just near enough to feel the heat from Damian's legs radiate into the front of his body as he lay down. He curled up into a ball on top of the covers, head near Damian’s feet, ready for a quick escape.

It still didn't feel close enough, so he fit one hand over Damian's ankle. Damian sighed but made no move to shake him off. The tension finally draining from his body, Tim fell asleep.

day seventy (part one) here

[thedeevirus]

Nygmobblepot Ficlet; ‘The Direct Approach’

And now for a break in your holiday cheer; an angsty Nygmobblepot fic featuring Batman. Hope you all enjoy! ***

The candles flickered and Oswald felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. On the wall in front of him loomed a foreboding silhouette.

‘Let me guess’, Oswald said, not turning around, ‘He’s not coming. You couldn’t have shown up to tell me that any sooner?’

‘Where’s Riddler?’ the dark figure asked quietly.

Oswald took a sip of whiskey to moisten his throat. Even though he and the so-called Batman had an arrangement, a truce of sorts, the vigilante remained an intimidating figure. He was grateful he had given the staff the night off. The last thing he needed was more traumatised bouncers and waiters.

‘Merry Christmas to you too’, he replied, ‘Help yourself, there’s plenty’.

Batman didn’t even seem to notice the lavish (albeit increasingly cold) feast laid out in front of Oswald as he walked into the Penguin’s line of view. Oswald avoided Batman’s hard stare and distracted himself by mentally listing the items displayed on the table; a turkey with stuffing, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce-

‘Where. Is. Riddler?’

‘I. Heard. You. The. First. Time’, Oswald said, irritated at Batman’s theatrics, ‘He’s exactly where he promised me that he wouldn’t be, at the exact time he promised he would be here enjoying this little dinner I spent all afternoon preparing’.

He scowled at the table. Okay his personal chef had prepared it but Oswald had paid him handsomely for the privilege and he had set the table himself. Fat lot of good it had done. They had only started celebrating Christmas at Ed’s suggestion in the first place. Oswald hadn’t done it since his mother had passed years ago. She had insisted on putting up a tree every year. Despite being raised Jewish, she had loved the lights, proclaiming, ‘So twinkly! So beautiful! Like a storybook!’ Another person he loved missing from the table. Oswald’s frustration finally gave him the courage to glare at Batman directly.

‘Couldn’t you have taken one night off?!’

‘He’s taken hostages’.

‘Nobody I know’, Oswald shrugged, ‘Try again’.

 Batman’s eyes lingered on the tall ice sculpture Oswald had selected as a centrepiece for the table. The carved leaping penguin’s eyes seemed to widen under the ‘Dark Knight’s’ threatening glare and the long neck (already melting) suddenly seemed very fragile and the head very heavy. Batman’s leathery fists tightened.

 ‘Look, can we at least discuss this civilly?’ Oswald said, half rising as he understood the threat, ‘I’m sure we can come to an arrangement. ‘Tis the season of goodwill after all’.

‘What do you want?’ Batman asked, folding his arms.

‘I’ll tell you where Ed is, you get the hostages then you let him go’, Oswald said, ‘He comes here to me and you leave us alone. A Christmas amnesty’.

 ‘Not both of you’.

 ‘Then no deal’, Oswald sniffed haughtily, even as his mind raced to come up with an alternative solution, ‘I’m sure he’s sent you one of his envelopes so you’d better get deciphering. Before it’s too late’.

Batman threw something onto the table. A blackened piece of card. Oswald picked it up and could just about make out the GCPD address on it written in Ed’s handwriting. Oswald’s heart sank.

 ‘It was disguised as a Christmas bonus paycheque. Two officers are in the hospital. I can’t ignore this’.

 Oswald gritted his teeth. It was part of their deal. Oswald would not target the GCPD and Batman would turn a blind eye to some of his ‘less savoury’ activities. Oswald had made Ed promise to avoid the GCPD as well, omitting the part about Batman and instead emphasising the logic of such a position. Why attract that level of attention? Why pain a target on your back? It had taken a long conversation but Ed had finally promised Oswald that he wouldn’t target the GCPD. He had promised. Oswald dropped his gaze and inadvertently caught sight of Ed’s empty chair at the table. Just like he had promised he would never miss another dinner.

 Batman extended a hand for the card and Oswald exploded, flinging it at him.

 ‘And whose fault is that?! Up until you started lurking on rooftops, he was stable! Oh fine maybe not ‘stable’ but at least he listened to me! Kept things low key! But now beating you is all he cares about!’

 ‘I don’t have time for his games’, Batman growled dismissively.

 Oswald threw his whiskey glass at the wall. It shattered, casting crystalline fragments around like Christmas confetti. Batman did not react which only made Oswald angrier.

 ‘You think I haven’t told him that?! You and I both know there are far worse things for you to occupy yourself with now instead of Ed. Gotham was always crazy but ever since you flew back into town, it’s gotten worse than ever!’

 Oswald’s words rang throughout the Iceberg Lounge. He stiffened, realising what he had just admitted. He bit his tongue, furious that he had left his ace in the hole slip out but conscious that the only move was to keep going.

 ‘Oh, do I detect surprise beneath the mask?’ he teased with a confidence he did not feel, ‘Yes. I know who you really are. Only one person would have enough money to waste on nonsense like this. And be crazy enough to waste it on Gotham’.

 Oswald knew he was bluffing. Batman’s face (what he could see of it) had remained completely impassive. He might as well have been made of stone. Oswald knew from experience that his punches certainly felt like it.

 ‘You seem sure of your theory’, Batman said.

 The corner of his mouth had kinked. Oswald didn’t know if it was a smile or not. He also didn’t know if it was a good or bad thing.

 Oswald laughed bitterly.

 ‘Don’t worry, I know nobody will ever believe me. I’m not like Ed. I have nothing to prove and I know when I’m outgunned. Besides, if you are who I think you are, I always had a soft spot for you. We’re both orphans after all. Though we seem to have coped with that in drastically different ways’.

Batman’s ‘smile’ vanished.

 ‘You said you could keep Nygma under control’, he said, the barest hint of accusation in his tone.

 Oswald was surprised to feel shame filling the pit of his stomach at Batman’s disappointed air. He filled another glass with whiskey and knocked it back in one swig. The damned holidays always made him sentimental.

 ‘I used to be able to’, he said quietly, ‘He was taking his medication and we set time aside for date…’ He sniffed hard and chuckled. ‘Why am I even telling you this? It’s not like you care’.

‘I care about innocent people getting hurt. Maybe assuming you would too is giving you too much credit but you obviously care about Nygma. Get him to stop these games and he gets the same deal you do’.

 Oswald shook his head, looking defeated.

‘I haven’t told him about our little arrangement. He’ll never agree to help you. And he won’t stop. It’s who he is. He’s a genius. He’s the Riddler’.

‘Who hasn’t figured out you’re working with me’.

Oswald slammed the glass down, stung by the taunt. And by his own dishonesty. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust Ed! It was just…easier to be flexible. You had to be practical in this town! There were rules! At least there used to be. Oswald still had rules.

‘Only because he trusts me! I can’t betray him! I won’t!’

 Oswald bit his lip. His voice had cracked treacherously. He inhaled and exhaled slowly. He needed to regain control. Needed to maintain his dignity.

 ‘If you love him, you need to put his needs before your own. He needs help’.

 Oswald turned away. His eyes were moist. He cursed his decision to only use the table candles for illumination. He knew now how Ed could hate Batman so much. Hate him being right.

 ‘You save people’, Oswald said though gritted teeth, ‘Can you save him?’

 ‘He belongs in Arkham’.

The tone was gentler than Oswald knew he deserved but he couldn’t prevent a shuddering sigh from escaping his mouth. Hearing the same thought that had been building and building for weeks spoken aloud was jarring. Was Batman telepathic? There were stranger things in Gotham.

Oswald’s artificial eye ached. It always did when he was stressed and it and it had been getting worse. Just like Ed’s delusions had been getting worse. The obsessions, hallucinations, irritability, lack of self-care, insomnia… Oswald had found his meds in the trash that morning. Unopened for the last two weeks. Ed had sworn he had been taking them. It turned out they were both liars. Oswald looked at Batman and realised with horror that Batman was waiting for Oswald’s response. For his permission. And Oswald’s skin crawled at the relief he felt.

 ‘Is it true that y-that the Wayne Foundation has changed things there?’ Oswald asked.

 He locked eyes with Batman. Searching them. He wasn’t sure if he was looking for honesty or the opposite. He had the awful feeling he was just looking for some way out. Something to help him do what he had to. He loved Ed. He did. But he wasn’t what Ed needed right now.

 ‘Yes’.

 Oswald could endure Ed’s resentment. Even his hate. He had been on the receiving end before. He could do it again. He would do it a thousand times as long as Ed was safe. His artificial eye impossibly pulsed in its socket. He struggled to stop his eye twitching.

 ‘Do you trust the people there?’

‘Yes’.

‘And-and you promise he won’t get hurt? I know he’ll try to hurt you but he’s not a fighter and you know that so please don’t-‘

 Batman held up a gloved hand. Oswald blinked hard as the metallic knuckles on the material caught the light.

‘I promise I won’t hurt him’, Batman said.

 Oswald was startled to find he believed it. And heartbroken that he could believe that more than anything Ed had said recently.

He sat back down in his chair, both hands clasped around his now empty glass.

‘He’s hiding in the old Gotham Gazette office in The Narrows’, Oswald said robotically, ‘There are tripwires at the entrance and the vents are mined but the passcode to his bunker is 1690. Apparently, it’s when the first issue of Publick Occurrences was published‘.

 Batman lifted his arm and began to input what Oswald assumed were coordinates into a hidden compartment in the suit. There was an affirmative beep. To Oswald it sounded like a death knell. He leant down hard on his knees. They were shaking.

‘He’ll know you told me’, Batman said.

 Oswald sneered at the subtle concern in Batman’s voice. Oh now he cared?! How touching. Nobody else did.

‘How? You going to tell him?’

‘No’.

‘Then he’ll just assume you figured it out’, Oswald shrugged savagely, ‘He always says you’re the world’s greatest detective. High praise. Though I’m sure some of those fancy toys give you an edge’.

‘He doesn’t share your theory about who I really am?’

 ‘The answer’s too obvious for him to accept. The one time I told him about it, he thought I was making a joke at his expense. Now get out of here. He gets antsy when he thinks he’s being ignored and I have a mess to clean up’.

 Oswald turned away, signalling that the exchange was over. He leant his elbows on the table, feeling tired and drained.

‘I’ll arrange visitation rights for you’.

 ‘I’m sure you’ll come up with some way for me to return the favour’, Oswald snarled, ‘Now for the last time, get out’.

 Why couldn’t Batman just leave him alone?! What else did he expect Oswald to do?! Wasn’t Ed enough for him?! The only person Oswald cared about?! Did he want him gift wrapped?!

 ‘No need. I know how it feels to miss someone on Christmas’.

 Oswald did not reply and he did not try to catch Batman leaving as he usually did. There was no point.

 The sympathy in Batman’s words should have infuriated him. Batman’s audacity should have had him reaching for the umbrella gun concealed beneath the table. He should have been wondering if his theory about the vigilante’s true identity was indeed correct. 

But he was just too damn tired.

He wanted another drink. He wanted to go to bed and just pass out. He wanted to have never made the stupid dinner in the first place. He wanted Ed. The Ed he loved back.  He needed him here. With him.

 But he had never gotten what he wanted for Christmas.

[inkdemonapologist]

What's going on with Wally Franks in your AU? I had trouble following the game, and the wiki seems to say that he quit the studio and retired without ever learning its darkest secrets, but I think you have him as one of the escapees (turned into a Boris?)

Okay I have a lot of rambling thoughts about the ending of the game if youre curious but I'll stick those at the end. As far as Escape AU goes:

Yes, Wally was a Boris clone! He did not fully get outta there; he's the murdered Boris at the very beginning of the game. Dying doesn't really seem to stick for ink creatures in the Studio, so he was able to come back -- but since he spent most of his time in the Studio [glados voice] really busy being dead, he doesn't have the years of trying to survive an inky hell that the others have; he just has that one really bad time where he was turned into a cartoon and murdered, and some weird and probably equally upsetting memories of briefly waking up from death. He never wandered the studio and was never sent to the puddles, so he has some real bad nightmares/insomnia now but is otherwise doing okay in his day-to-day life, and has no trouble speaking. He's probably able to hold down a job before too long!

Mostly Wally is there because I wanted Wally to be there, and I haven't fully sorted out the LORE for him in Escape AU (I don’t know if he never left or if he got lured back), but if you're interested in trying to sort out some of the canon associated:

So basically what I've gathered as someone who is obsessed with bendy and has watched all the cutscenes and all that but hasn't actually played the game and was real late to the fandom, TAKE WITH A GRAIN OF SALT:

- The game leaves things a bit ambiguous

- There were, in the original game, a lot of hints that the Boris you befriend in the Studio is Wally. (He’s sorta handy, kinda cowardly, likes food -- and we get an audiolog dedicated specifically to letting us know that Wally will straight up steal your cake off your desk; they’d be a good match!) There's several reasons it makes a kind of narrative sense and it was the prevailing theory before DCTL came out, but it was never confirmed one way or another.

- Two smaller things I’ve seen connecting Wally to Boris: the wrench you pull out of a Boris' chest, and the "Who's Laughing Now" written on the wall beside him being a really neat hint once you get to the audiolog where Wally complains that everyone is acting too serious for a cartoon studio and should crack a smile now and again. (this is most of why I went for the dead Boris as Wally)

- in Dreams Come To Life, Buddy is (spoilers) transformed into a Boris at the end, and it's commented on how perfect he is, implying he may be the "perfect Boris" you befriend in the game. The Boris in Boris and the Dark Survival is referred to outside the game as "Buddy Boris" and, since he has a safehouse, there's an implication that BatDS bridges the gap between DCTL and BatIM. The fact that Henry keeps affectionately referring to Boris as "buddy" becomes a fun retroactive “coincidence,” but also all the various implications that Wally sure would have made a good Boris now go nowhere. It ended up feeling like a retcon.

- in the end of the game you can see letters to Joey from Allison and Wally, implying they (and Tom) are alive and well and continued their lives after the Studio shut down, which is interesting since, uh, Allison and Tom are also now toons???

- there's a popular interpretation (called the Story Theory I think?) which I encountered in Adobe-Outdesign's analysis, that what this apparent contradiction means is that the "sketch dimension" (the cartoony world where most of the game takes place) is actually a story created by Joey using the Ink Machine, populated with alternate/fictional versions of the employees of the studio. So the Real Allison left, but in this story Joey’s writing, she didn’t. Henry-the-protagonist might not be the real Henry Stein; instead he's just one of Joey's characters, based on his IRL friend. Etcetera! So in real life, Wally retired, as his letter indicates. But those fictional versions are still real people, real consciouses, because the real ink machine that Joey really has hidden in his apartment is bringing Joey's story to life. I like the interpretation a lot as a take that fits the game well but also I have no idea where DCTL fits in this. IS DCTL PART OF JOEY'S STORY OR DID ALL OF THAT REALLY HAPPEN IN REAL LIFE??? IF THERE'S A LOOP IN DCTL (as slightly implied by Dot) ITS A STORY RIGHT??? WHAT IS HAPPENING IN THIS FRANCHISE

- the alternative interpretation to this is that somehow Allison and Tom (at least, if not others) got lured back to the Studio after she sent her letter -- after all, she's still keeping in touch. I tend to assume this is what’s going on in most fanfiction and AUs that have any possibility of escape, since you’d presumably want the employees to actually be themselves rather than Joey Drew's Weird Friendfiction brought to life. The impression I've gotten in this version is that sending them to the Bendy Dimension gives Joey control over the script there, so instead of creating people for his fictional retelling, he's forced his actual employees to play out this story, but I don't know that I've seen this fully spelled out

SO THATS, UH, SOME OF THE RELEVANT BACKGROUND INFO I THINK

Before running into the much more coherent Story Theory, my own attempts to make sense of the ending went in the exact opposite direction; that rather than Joey's apartment being a brief step out of the Story and into the Real World, that Joey's apartment is something of a dream, where Henry and Joey, of course, imagine the world that they know, even if they're not actually in it anymore.

I also REALLY liked the theories linking Joey to Bendy -- Bendy may have been created without a soul, but that doesn't mean one can't get, y'know, shoved in there... or that maybe a soul could be possibly stolen and absorbed by a creature who lacks one........ yknow..... it could happen. I like the idea that Ink Bendy's shifts in behaviour towards Henry reflect Joey's conflicted feelings towards his old friend (which is still there in the Story Theory version, it's just symbolic instead of literal).

So you defeat Beast Bendy and suddenly Joey is there, finally, in a place that looks like the real world but certainly doesn't feel real. The calendar in Joey's apartment cycles through the month of August but never moves past it, and I can't shake the idea that Joey could be just as trapped in the cycle as Henry, also never quite deviating from his own script, only briefly appearing in a memory of his own apartment when Henry releases his soul from the demon he created.

I don't know that this could ever shake out enough to be any sort of Actual Theory, but in my brain it's still kind of the background of Escape AU because it's a premise that makes it possible for the employees to actually be themselves. So, the cartoon studio is real, but the things that show up in Joey's apartment might be hit or miss as to whether they're a memory from Joey's real apartment, or if they're imagined wishful thinking on Joey's part.

[iplaymatchmaker]

Hi there, me again, if I read the rules correctlyyou said we could do a separate ask for a separate game. If I read incorrectlyplease just ignore this, if not if my first ask wasn't to much I'd love to ask for an ikerev matchup as well! I'm bi, female (she/her) sagittarius sun, virgo rising, libra moon, ENFT. I'm 5'2, chubby/curvy w/ great boobs, I have longer  brunette hair w/ peekaboo highlights (they've been every color, but currently pink), brown eyes, glasses/contacts, 7 piercings & 26 tattoos. I'm very empathetic (sometimes to a fault) and have sever anxiety and depression. It takes me awhile to warm up around new people and be myself. I often feel intimidated in big social settings, such as parties, and often use alcohol for some liquid courage to help me let loose and be me in those situations. I've suffered some emotional and mental abuse at the hands of a step parent which has left me with some trauma and triggers; people raising their voice at me or making quick movements toward me or in my direction usually result in me crying and secluding myself for awhile. Oh and I have daddy issues, thanks absent father. That said I also don't do great with authority, I hate being told what to do, and I hate being told no. I can put up with a lot of shit, but eventually it usually becomes a 'straw that broke the camels back' situation and I fly off the handle and then break down. I am also extremely generous and do all I can to help my friends and family when they need it. I have some self confidence issues from weight gain, and I usually feel my best when I'm dolled up with my makeup on and hair done, usually with a dress and heels. I'm a Ravenclaw thats hates to read, but I love learning & know tons of trivia; like I know so many random facts about so many things from history, to movies, to graveyards, and much more. I often correct people on things, which some perceive as me belittling them, but its never my intention I'm just trying to share my knowledge and trying to help them. I am very creative I love crafting; resin art, macrame, cross stich, those are just some of my favorite things to do art wise, I also enjoy coloring books. I love to laugh and think I'm pretty funny, I usually have a dark sense of humor, if you don't like humor we won't vibe together, and if you can't make me laugh we will not be a good relationship match. I like to go to the bar and do karaoke, it's one thing I've learned I'mvery good at. It took me about 2 years, but I've since learned to be confident with my singing and now its one of my favorite things to do. I drink, obviously, gin and tonic is my favorite. I also smoke, I love my hookah, and I've had my medical card for about a year and it's done wonders for my insomnia and cramps. For about 2 years I've been getting severe cramps and stomach pains, and after 5 er trips in a month they didn't find anything, its still a mystery but at least the bud helps the pain. l'm very into the witchy aesthetic; my style is either very Stevie Nicks, pinup, or 2009 emo/scene depending on the day. I collect animal skulls and bone, taxidermy, crystals, and plants; I also practice the craft & love to make spell jars for people. I love tarot and really enjoy doing it. I live for Halloween & enjoy all things macabre! My favorite show is That 70's Show and if I could live in a replica of the Forman's house that would be my dream. I am also very sex positive and rather adventurous in bed. I'm a brat and a voyeur, I'll get down with just about anything. My love language is giving and receiving gifts. I put alot of thought into holidays like Christmas, I plan months in advance to make sure I get everyone the perfect gift; but I also will sometimes see something that just reminds me of someone and have to get it for them. That is all I can think of right now to add about myself. I'd love 4 and/or 10 for the prompt part. And again thank you for doing these, I'm such a ho for them, and again I'm sorry its long.

I match you with

Edgar!

Thank you so much for requesting 🥰🥰! I’m sorry this took so long, but here it is! I hope you enjoy it ❤️! I Hope you don’t mind the sprinkle of angst in the second ask.😅

I was thinking Ray at first, but I ended up going with Mr smooth, since Ray is too predictable after Nap.

Edgar is known among the red army officers as the person who will make you feel safe, especially during your first encounters with them, before you find out they’re all dorks.  What he doesn’t expect is how at home he feels when the two of you are together. He never feels like he’s being judged when he’s around you and he lets himself go, despite the indoctrination by Claudius that he should always keep people at a distance to avoid being viewed as weak.

Not long after the two of you met, he decides to take you out along with Kyle for a drink, to help you get more accustomed to Cradle and its people. When you realize how much Kyle loves to drink, you follow suite, the two of you very quickly getting tipsy. Edgar laughs at the two of you for a bit, happy to see a new side of you as you allow yourself to grow more comfortable with them. Eventually he leads the two of you outside of the pub and arranges for a carriage to take you all back to headquarters, trying his hardest to tame the both of you.

He absolutely loves it when you sing to him, especially after a particularly hard day of work. He relaxes at the sound of your voice, often drifting off. It touches him more than he would like to admit when he finds you’re still there when he wakes up.

You are a light in his life and he wants to give back in kind, often dedicating his days off entirely to you. He loves giving you gifts, or surprising you with a romantic dinner to show his appreciation to you, for being there and understanding him.

While he doesn’t have the creativity to participate in most of your hobbies, he loves to watch you do it. The amount of passion you show for your art, the way your eyes light up when you’re working, is a picture perfect moment that he could look at for hours.

Prompt 4: Meet cute:

You couldn’t stop fidgeting as you stood outside the Red Army Headquarters, waiting for Kyle to fetch someone to help you. After you told him about burglars breaking into your house he insisted he get one of the officers to help you, despite you doubts. It was hard not to worry as you considered the prospect of having to turn to Jonah for help, knowing how hard he could be to communicate with, capable officer or not.  

When Kyle finally emerged, it wasn’t Jonah walking next to him, but a man you didn’t recognize.  

“Sorry for the wait. He’s not easy to find.” The man stood a few heads higher than you but his softer features and aura helped to make him quite welcoming. You begun to relax at his presence, wondering if he was as smooth as he seemed.

“Edgar Bright, at your service.” He offered you a gloved hand, a soft smile playing on his lips. His grip was soft but secure. He was smooth.

“Kyle filled me on the details but I’ll need a statement from you as well.” You tensed up, the idea of an interrogation being especially daunting considering you didn’t know much more than they did.

“No need to worry, it’s simply protocol. You can trust we will find whoever did this without any turbulence.” There was something very reassuring about him. Something that makes you think everything will be all right.

“Thank you.”

 The two of you left Kyle behind, retreating to Edar’s room to discuss the details of the investigation. After he poured two cups of tea he took the seat opposite you, as if the two of you were about to chat about the weather.

“Could you give me the details of what happened? It would be very helpful to hear it straight from the source.” You took a sip before starting with your statement, hoping to calm your nerves.

“I don’t know much more than you do. I was out for work most of the day and when I came back the place was a mess and many valuables were missing.” he seemed to have switched to work mode, completely focused on you.

“What time did you leave for work that day? And when did you return” he scribbled down on a piece of paper, his hand practically moving on its own.

“I left around 8 and came back around 6, I think.” When he put the pen down his attitude returned to relaxed gentleman status.

“I will start with asking the people who might have been present at the scene. I’ll get back to you once I’ve made some progress.” The conversation was over but you found it hard to leave. It didn’t feel right letting one man do the investigation on his own, despite it being his job. It was your house that had been rambled after all.

“I want to help as well. I know my way around the area, I can get in touch with some people.” His eyes widened, seemingly taken aback for the first time that day. He quickly composed himself, smiling again. You noticed something different about it now. Something in his expression told you he was more interested than before.

“I wouldn’t say no to a lady.” You smiled for the first time after the incident.

“Let’s get going then.”

 Prompt 10: Admission Of Feelings.

You continued working on the investigation for the next few weeks, the two of you growing closer by the day.

“There don’t seem to be any witnesses, but it’s unlikely no one was present. The break in happened in the middle of the day.” He rested his head on his chin, not touching the parfait sitting in front of him.

“Maybe they were there but didn’t notice anything. It’s not hard for a professional to pick a lock discreetly.” They two of you sat in silence for some time, both lost in your own theories of what happened that day.

He must have realized your worries, turning on his comfort face.

“We’ll find them. Don’t worry.” Usually you found his words comforting, but you couldn’t keep the frustration from your voice when you looked up at him.

“Realistically speaking, it’s probably not going to happen. They made a clean escape and left nothing behind. You don’t need to baby me, I can put two and two together.” Despite the harshness of your tone, you found him smiling, after the initial surprise wore off.

“You never cease to amaze me.” He opened his mouth to say something, but the words never left him, his eyes turning to the window. He was up and out of the café before you could ask what he had seen.

“What the-“when you looked in the direction of the culprit, you shot up, following after him.  

A man stood outside your door, seemingly fighting with the door. When he noticed the two of you approaching him, he dropped his bags, taking off before you could reach him.

“Stop!” Edgar run after him, his speed taking you by surprise, making it hard to catch up.

The man took a sudden turn, heading towards the narrow alleys of Central Quarter, giving you an important disadvantage in the chase.

Your legs ached and your heart was threatening to burst out of your chest. When you thought you couldn’t keep going, you rounded a corner to find Edgar, sitting on top of the man, pinning him in place. If he was tired from the chase, it didn’t show.

“I suppose I don’t need to ask if it was you who broke in a few weeks ago?” his gaze was cold and his grip was tight on the man’s shoulders.

“I- I just- I-it wasn’t me!” Edgar ignored him, turning towards you. Something flickered in his eyes, but loud footsteps coming your way didn’t let him act on whatever it was.

“The Jack? Sir, what happened? We heard the commotion and came to investigate.” A handful of Red Army soldiers stood in front of you, their eyes switching between Edgar and the man under him.  

“Take this man back to headquarters. I will interrogate him later.” Edgar pulled the man up, pinning his hands behind his back.

“Yes sir!” when the men led the thief away there was silence. Edgar’ kept his head low, not looking you in the eye as he tried to calm his breathing, the adrenaline of the chase slowly fading away. You knew you should be happy the man had been caught, but something was wrong in the atmosphere. You weren’t sure if you should speak up, or let him ride whatever it was out. He didn’t give you time to think on it, finally walking toward you. His hands were shaking when he reached out to touch your shoulders, a mixture of frustration and worry in his eyes.

“You…. Why…” you weren’t sure what to say, so you put your arms around him instead, hoping it would offer him some comfort. You stayed like that for some time, until his hands stopped shaking.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this.” His words were muffled by the fabric of your shirt. When he lifted his head again, something inside him seemed to snap.

“You shouldn’t have followed me. What if something happened? You could have gotten hurt.” He looked away, his eyes shut tight. You wondered what image was going through his head to cause him so much pain. You cupped his face, forcing him to face you.

“Edgar, look at me.” And he did. The sight of you seemed to calm him down.

“Nothing’s going to happen to me. I’m right here.” It took some time for the words to register, but when they did his face moved closer to you. You encouraged him, pulling him closer, your lips connected in a brief kiss. When he pulled away he took a step back, as if scared he had hurt you.

“I-I’m sorry.” You moved closer, smiling up at him.

“There’s nothing to apologize for. Except maybe pulling away.” You laughed. When he realized you might feel the same way he took your hands in his.

“You’re an amazing woman.” He paused to gather his breath before meeting your gaze again.

“If the thought wouldn’t be appalling, could I see more of you, outside of work?” you couldn’t keep the laughter inside.

“Appalling? Edgar, do you think I would kiss someone I find appalling?” you pulled him back in, hoping to get your point across.

“I’ll never get enough of this.” His smile was brighter than you’d ever seen it.

“I’ll hold you to that. Because we’re just getting started.” The moon was bright above you as you laughed, your happiness overflowing.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #355

“despite all my rage, i am still just a rat in a cage”

Have you ever shared a shower or bath with someone as an adult? No, only as a kid. What kind of pizza toppings do you like? Meats or jalapenos. When did you first take a shot of alcohol? Never, and I'm not interested. Did you babysit for money when you were in middle school? No. Who is your favorite band? How long have they been? Ozzy Osbourne, since middle school. Has the last person you kissed ever been to your house? My old house, yes. Not the one I currently live in. Have you ever been to a spa? Only because my friend at the time took me. When talking on the phone, do you place it against your left or right ear? My right. What’s your favourite Lunchables meal? The nachos one. Do you like Bob Marley? NO. Omg his voice is awful. Have you ever eaten at Golden Corral? Yeah. I'm not a big fan. Do you sit and eat dinner at the same table with your family? We only ever do that if my sister is over (she comes for dinner once a week). Are you listening to any music right now? If so, what are you listening to? Yeah, Violet Orlandi's cover of "Bullet With Butterfly Wings" by The Smashing Pumpkins. God she's so beautiful and talented and asdfjkaljddkfjlwkee FUCK I'm gay for her. Who was the last person to make you genuinely smile? Watching Mark. :') Is there something you want to say to someone but can’t/won’t? Yeah. Do you like men who have a sensitive side? Yes. Please be in touch with your emotions, for the love of God. Have you ever tried to get someone into a certain band/artist? Not persistently, no, but Mini is a case where me mentioning them enough got her to listen to them. Metallica, by the way. They're her favorite band because of mwah, haha. Have you ever carved you and someone else’s initials into a tree? It's possible, but I don't believe so. Do you like Dairy Queen? Love it. They're Oreo Cupfection thing is BOMB. Is there anyone you know with an amazing personal success story? Yes. I have a friend Shannen who first was a widely-recognized photographer in the state, and now she's a fashion designer (or something like that) up in New York. Is there a song in a different language that you can sing? A number of Rammstein songs. How do you feel about bands that use pyrotechnics in live concerts? So long they're well-made for safety reasons, I don't care much. They do seem a bit unnecessary, though; like just look at James Hetfield's accident that burned half his body because of standing in the wrong place. It seems easy to fuck up and get in a dangerous range. Ever fallen down a hole? No. Do you like bananas? Yeah. How long do you normally spend in the shower? Not even 10 minutes, usually. I've never understood how people can take such long showers. Have you ever been a featured member on any website? Yeah, on a Silent Hill fansite. Have you ever had any weird pets? Not by my standards. A ball python morph is as "weird" as it gets. Are you currently talking to/texting/instant messaging anyone? Nope. Have you ever experienced insomnia? Ugh, yes. I went through a horrible insomnia spell, and I still have an awful time trying to fall asleep. Do you like egg nog? Nooo. Would you ever wear Converse with a prom/formal dress? I'm not opposed to it, but realistically I'd probably wear something more traditionally suiting just because. Do you prefer hot chocolate with or without marshmallows? Without. How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? I've cried all the oceans over just one lol. Would you rather be a surgeon or mortician? Being a mortician actually doesn't sound awful, weird as it sounds. It sounds almost relaxing if I could just be alone with some music doing my job. Would rather be a musician or a painter? A painter. Would you rather write your own book or make your own movie? I'd love to write a book. At home, do you have a trampoline? No. When you are about to go to bed, do you put on some sort of noise? No. What is your favorite Christmas movie? Jim Carrey's How The Grinch Stole Christmas. And what about your favorite Christmas song? Probably "The Most Wonderful Time of the Year" or whatever it's called. "Carol of the Bells" too, of course. What is your ultimate favorite stocking stuffer? Haha, okay so it seems to be an unspoken rule that Mom always gets us Slim Jims for our stockings, and that's obviously the best considering my sisters and I loooove them yet still don't buy them much. You're making me ready for Christmas, lol. After Halloween, do you sort out all of your candy into little piles? I did as a kid, and then my sisters and I would trade what we preferred. When you listen to music with headphones, do you keep the volume low enough to hear surrounding noise faintly, or do you blast it? It's honestly pretty loud. What did you have for breakfast this morning? Cold pizza from dinner leftovers last night. What’s the largest animal you’ve ever had as a pet? Our late boxer mix, Cali. She was a big 'ole pup. Do you own any kind of helmet? No. Out of everything currently in your refrigerator, what food or drink is your favorite? Food: strawberries. Drink: Mountain Lightning. What’s the worst injury you’ve ever had? Either when I skinned my knees so deep that pus was visible, or when I fainted onto my chin and got a short, but very deep cut. Do you like the taste of cough syrup? No. What is something you like to have conversations about? I like talking about deep stuff, like where we came from, our unique feelings and beliefs, conspiracy theories and cryptids, mysterious stuff like that, too. And don't forget animals. And Mark, haha. What all is in the trunk of your car? I don't have a car, and I don't remember what's in Mom's trunk, even though I helped bring in groceries just the other day. Do you ever put fruit on your cereal? Ew, no. Is your heat or air conditioning currently on? Our AC is currently on because it's too damn hot. The weather here has been so up and down, it's wild. Have you ever fallen off of a horse? No. Which do you value more, your appearance or your intelligence? Honestly? I'd be dumber than I already am if it meant being happy with how I look, because my appearance now is a key factor to my depression. When was the last time you drove something other than a car or truck? Oh jeez... I have no idea. I don't think since I've driven a golf cart at someone's b-day party as a kid. Were your grandparents present when you were born? No. If you drink/smoke, how often do you do these things? I don't smoke, and I only have a drink or two very rarely, usually just on special occasions. What do you think of fast food? I like it way more than I wish I did. What website do you spend the most time on and why? YouTube, because I'm always listening to and/or watching something. What’s the most amount of time you’ve spent online? Is this usual for you? In one non-stop setting, I don't want to know. I pretty much only exist on the computer. When it comes to travel, what kinds of places intrigue you most? Mountainous, loads of nature, cooler/cold, mysterious locations... stuff like that. Do you think humans colonizing Mars is a good idea? Would you go, if you could? If we learn from our goddamn mistakes and not fuck up its environment, it could be healthy or even life-saving for humanity, but I'd prefer to stay on Earth as long as possible. What is the farthest you’ve walked in one day and what made you do it? I dunno, maybe at Disney World or something like that as a kid. What is something important that’s often on your mind lately? Physical health stuff. I'm worried about a lot of things relating to that. What about something unimportant, but you can’t stop thinking about it? I don't know about "unimportant," at least to me. Do you like oatmeal? If so, what kinds of things do you like in it? Yeah. I only really eat the cinnamon apple ones; I always use milk and sprinkle some sugar in there, and it's delicious. What was going on the last time you felt nostalgic? When Mom and I stopped at Jason's house to bring the family some treats following his mother's death. I stayed in the car and couldn't even look towards the house, but yeah. So many memories just stampeded me. How much attention do you pay to the movements of the stars and planets, and do you believe they influence anything? I pay zero attention to it; I don't believe they have influence over people in any way. What is the most difficult or involved video game you’ve ever played? I guess you could say World of Warcraft. It's definitely the most involved, like I've been playing it almost consistently since 2014, and I used to be in a Heroic raid team, which certainly wasn't easy. Then there's some achievements I busted my ass to get. Which accent do you find most sexy, alluring or appealing? British is where it's at. Which accent do you find most annoying, disturbing, or bothersome? Extremely Southern ones. Can you cry on cue? Is it any kind of useful? No. Does it take you a while to actually get jokes? Embarrassingly, it frequently does. Can you wear socks to bed or does it annoy you? Ugh, I could never. I hate the feeling of socks. Have you ever bleached your hair? By myself, no, but a professional has to dye it. Do you like jelly beans? They're okay. It really depends on the flavor, and even then I can't eat a lot of them. Do you have trouble sleeping when it’s storming? Yes, but not because it scares me, but rather that I'm just jumpy. Subtle thunder isn't so bad, and I LOVE the drone of heavy rain, but once you add booming thunder and strong flashes of lightning, it's too disruptive for me to fall asleep easily. Who was the last person you know that graduated? (high school or college) My not-so-little sister is just about to finish her Master's lakdsjfakwe I'm so proud of her. Were you happy or sad when you found out your babysitter was coming? I think I was always kinda bummed out, even though I liked my babysitters. I had horrible separation anxiety from my mom. Did you have a boyfriend in kindergarten? No, but I did have this one guy who'd been like obsessed with me since pre-k and would always chase me to hug and kiss me. In pre-k it was awful, but he still did it sometimes in kindergarten, despite the teachers getting on him about it. It's actually a memory I forgot for a very long time, like I think my brain tried to oppress it, and I wonder if it has anything to do with my fear of people standing behind me, men specifically, and being raped. Did you ever read the Magic Treehouse series? Oh yes, I was obsessed! Who was your best friend in elementary school? It jumped between Brianna, Kim, and Quiata. Did you ever watch The Land Before Time movies? YESSSSS. I even had the computer game. Did you collect anything when you were a kid? Stickers. I'd put them on my dresser everywhere to the point it was absolutely covered. Did you get an allowance? No. Not because my parents didn't want to or anything, but rather they couldn't afford allowances to three kids. Were you into American Girl dolls? Nah. I got one, but I think it was mostly so my sisters and I each had our own. Nicole, however, was sooooo into them. Were you friends with your childhood neighbors? Some, yeah, especially the boy down my street named D'Andre. We would hang out ALL the time, be it at each other's houses or just riding our bikes. He actually got married very recently and I'm so happy for him, ahhhhh!! What was your biggest fear when you were a kid? Thunderstorms. Did you ever play the "Reader Rabbit" computer games? Oh my god, YES. The one where you were hosting a surprise birthday party was my absolute favorite. Did your parents let you drink soda growing up? Yes. .-. What was your favorite kind of cake as a kid? Chocolate, of course.

[lovemesomesurveys]

Name three feelings you're feeling right now: I’m feeling hot, tired, and bleh. And the reasons for these feelings? It’s currently 102F here, I’m always tired and the heat doesn’t help, and I just don’t feel well. Have you heard of the band The Maine? Yeah. Have you ever been a featured member on any website? No. How's your hair styled right now? It’s in a pony tail.

Have you ever had any weird pets? No.

Are you currently talking to/texting/instant messaging anyone? Nope. Have you ever experienced insomnia? Uh, yeah for most of my life. What's your favorite song to listen to on repeat? I don’t really listen to songs on repeat. What's your favorite song to listen to when you're just angry at the world? Honestly, I don’t turn to music like I used to these days. Do you like egg nog? I do. Are there any words that you just absolutely hate? The c*** word and the p**** word. Do you feel that your previous relationships were a waste of time? No, I don’t. Is there a movie you're waiting for to come out on DVD? No, but I’m looking forward to seeing Black Widow this weekend at the movies. What's one thing you'll never be seen without? My glasses. Do you drop your cell phone a lot? No. Do you have an accent? I guess we all do. Do you say "soda" or "pop", or something else? I say soda. Would you ever wear Converse with a prom/formal dress? Nah. Have you ever worn the opposite sex's clothing? Yeah. Majority of my graphic tees come from the guy’s section. I like how they fit better. Name something you think is overrated: Shows like “Friends.” Your best friend tells you they're gay; how do you react? I mean, admittedly, I would be shocked if my mom told me that. It would certainly come as a surprise. Of course I’d support her and nothing would change between us, but it would come with questions and what we do going forward cause she’s with my dad... our lives would certainly change and it wouldn’t be easy. There would be lots of emotions. Have you ever been looking for something and it was already in your hand? Yes. Are you a simple or complicated person? I’m great at making everything complicated. Do you listen to techno? ”Nobody listens to techno, now let’s go just give me the signal I’ll be there with a whole list full of new insults...” Ha, sorry I had to. Anyway, no, I don’t. What's one thing you'd like to accomplish in your lifetime? Getting my shit together would be fantastic. What was the last thing you printed out on your computer? I don’t even remember it’s been awhile.

Do you believe in reincarnation? No.

Do you prefer hot chocolate with or without marshmallows? With. Do you like screamo music? Yeah, some. I was really into it during my emo teen days, but there’s still some of those songs that I like. Last awkward moment? My life. Were you mad about the way you woke up this morning? No. What was the last thing you laughed at? Something my brother said. When was the last time you had a REAL smile on your face? It’s been a long time. Do you like getting big hugs? :] From certain people. Did anything upset you today? Yes. Something always upsets me nowadays, so that’s not surprising. It wouldn’t be a normal day if I wasn’t crying at least once. What's your biggest concern right now? My health. How many different people of the opposite sex have you cried over? A few. Do you like silver or gold jewlery better? I like both. Which do you like better: Regular cakes or cookie cakes? Regular cakes. What do you hate? The miserable summer heat. D: Ever been to a friends house and starved the whole time? No. My friends were foodies like me, ha. Who was the last person you had a deep conversatiion wtih? My mom. Have you ever been around someone who was high? Yeah. Do you prefer to call or text? Text. Have you ever been hit by the opposite sex? No. Or by anyone. Do you use bandaids with cartoon characters on them? Sure. Have you ever seen someone you knew and purposely avoided them? Yeah :X Do you prefer Linkin Park's newer music, or their older music? Their older albums, Hybrid Theory and Meteora, are my top favorites for sure. If your significant other cheated on you, would you take them back? I don’t know. It would depend on a lot of things and something I’d have to really think about. Right now, do you prefer just dating around, or long-term relationships? Right now I’m not looking for either one, but I would want a long-term relationship if I did decide I wanted to be with someone right now. I’m in my 30s, I’m not looking for flings. And given my situation, I need someone who’s really in it, ya know? I don’t have the time or patience for anything else. How many different websites are you a member on? A lot. I’ve been on the internet for a very long time, who knows how many accounts I have out there. What was the last song you listened to? I don’t recall at the moment. What are your plans for the holidays? What we usually do. Is there someone that you can't get out of your head right now? No.

[secret-engima]

Nox verse HCs: Genesis

*kicks down door* Who wants to learn more about that Illegit Sibling of Nox and Noctis I mentioned forever ago? No one? Well TOO BAD HAVE SOME HCS ABOUT HER.

...

-Her name is Genesis. Her mother named her that because it means “Beginning”, which is fitting considering she was starting a new life in a totally new world.

-Her full name is Nedala Kikuli Genesis. Or- Genesis of the Clan Kikuli of the Village of Nedala.

-For obvious reasons, she tends to shorten her name to just Genesis Nedala or just plain Genesis (Call her Jenny and she will smile as she kicks you into the water).

-Yes, her mom was a l’Cie from ff13.

-Very pretty. Takes after her mom more than Regis in looks, so for once we have a Lucis Caelum who does NOT have black hair. She has pale blue eyes and thickly wavy long hair that’s a fairly even mix of brown and white-caramel. Few believe her when she tells them its natural and not dyed but there you go.

-Very laidback kiddo. Rolls with just about everything because nothing is weird to her anymore. Smiles easily. Seems like a very sensible person (this is a lie, she is the first to happily yeet herself out a window if the situation calls for it, she just is really good at making up logical excuses for her Stunts after the fact). Has few rage buttons but if you hit one prepare to be mauled because once her temper goes there is no stopping her. Can come across as naive as she will accept almost any crazy theory or story as … not truth, but not a lie either until she sees evidence to the contrary. Has a disturbingly loose grasp on the concept of physics, time, and legality but hides it well.

-Being the kiddo of a l’Cie and an LC makes for … interesting things. Namely she’s got her mom’s Crystarium powers and Eidolon all blended and mixed in with her LC magic, so look out she can do all SORTS of things.

-In FF13 Crystarium/Role terms she’s a pretty even mix between Ravager, Saboteur, and Healer. She also makes a decent Synergist, but LC magic is more geared toward destruction so debuffs come to her easier than buffs.

-Her Eidolon is Fenrir. He’s a warrior looking dude whose “vehicle mode” is turning into a giant semi-mechanical wolf. They are best buds. He summoned himself to meet her when she was like- 3 so their “battle” consisted solely of Fenrir spawning and snarling down at her and 3 year old No Fear Genesis zapping him with a bit of magic static to make him stop and then petting his fur while calling him Fuzzy Good Boy. Fenrir, terrible, inhuman Summon that he is, melted into a 10-12 foot pile of happy doggy goo. This is his person now. His. Do not touch unless you want to face down a snarling wolf with huge claws and sword teeth and enough magic power to make an Astral back off.

-In terms of LC magic, she was DEFINITELY an elemency bby. First thing she ever figured out how to do was make ice under her hands or feet so she could happily slide everywhere. Because she has her mother’s Crystarium folded into LC elemency, she also immediately learned a low level wind spell so she could GO FASTER.

-Has Nox’s/Noctis’s habit of slipping into other dimensions cranked up to fifteen. First time was when she was seven. She was only in the other world for three hours but it was the start of a trend. At this point she has food/water/medicine/camping supplies in her armiger 24-7 and a go bag always either on her shoulder or in her hand for good measure (just in case she goes somewhere that makes it hard to use magic, which hasn’t happened yet but you never know, it could happen).

-Lost her right leg up to the knee at 14 while in another dimension, got a kick-aft prosthetic replacement while she was there as an apology gift. That world was one of the longest stays she’s ever done, clocking in at a year to the day of her slipping into it. That world is also where she picked up several odd habits such as-

-Super mechanic skills and a love of learning engineering and stuff. If she ever meets Cid these two are gonna be a match made in heaven (or its opposite, depending on who is watching).

-Talking to whatever machine, car, or electronic she was fixing like it’s a living thing and then blinking in surprise when anyone acts like her behavior is odd because of course she’s going to talk to them and be polite, how would you like it if someone went rooting through your innards without telling you why.

-Swearing using terms like “aft” “slagger” and “pit-spawned fragging glitched out spawn of a toaster and a scrapheap”.

-Ability to yell at people in mechanical sounding nonsense.

-Firm belief in aliens, but only if they can turn into cars, trucks, boats, and the occasional tank.

-Tends to hide her kick-aft prosthetic to avoid questions and Imperial greedy eyes that would want the tech. The thing can fold in and out of armiger without issue because it was designed with her magic in mind, so in her day to day stuff she wears a normal, boring one made by an Altissian medical company. At least her normal prosthetic is a pretty blue color.

-Picture the looks on a bad guy’s face when he thinks that Genesis is the “crippled weak link” of whatever group she’s in and she just- pops off her normal prosthetic with a smile, there’s a flash of magic and BOOM epic metal leg with fighting claws for toes and a little afterburner thing in the heel for extra kicking/jumping power.

-Doesn’t have any desire to meet Regis at first because he’s a king and she figures he won’t care/won’t take kindly to an illegitimate kid but then she hears about Nox and part of her goes “hmmmm”.

-Still holds off on meeting Regis for probably a few years because Dimensional Shenanigans keep her busy and she honestly forgets about it. Probably meets Nox and Noctis first (I am laughing as I picture her being in the same alt dimension as them and meeting up and befriending them there and then when they “go back to their home dimensions” she’s RIGHT THERE and she’s like “oh. Never wound up outside Altissia when I came back before, hi again little bros.” and Nox and Noctis are like “??????”). Ends up liking these little brothers of hers and following them to Insomnia on their request to meet Regis.

-I want her Shield to be someone from another dimension that she befriended and who had no one else so she was just like- “wanna come live in my world?” and they were like “Yes.”. Still not sure who it will be or what dimension they are from but … that’s what I want.

[philcoulsonismyhero]

Oooh, 3, 4, 20, 23, and 25 for the writing meme!

3- What is that one scene that you’ve always wanted to write but can’t be arsed to write all of the set-up and context it would need? (consider this permission to write it and/or share it anyway)

Listen, I have something like 30-40k words of random RWBY fic scenes without all the surrounding context, I don’t let that stop me :D (And that’s just one fandom! My GoogleDrive is infested with random scenes that entertained me at the time.)

But the one idea that I keep coming back to is Wacky Hijinks involving Ironwood taking Ruby and Jaune along on some sort of Team Leaders Only training mission that naturally devolves into chaos and ends up with them stranded together at some outpost in the middle of a snow storm. Bonding, silliness and badassery naturally ensues.

Also, even sillier - imagine how funny it would be if Ironwood was stuck in some sort of lockdown situation with all of the teenagers (and only them). I keep imagining the sort of games the kids would end up playing to amuse themselves, and then dying with laughter over their various attempts to rope Ironwood into the nonsense. Like, seriously. Imagine Yang getting everyone to play one of those party games like Truth or Dare and they all gang up on Ironwood and make him join in as well. Hilarious.

(I’ve always liked ‘stuck in a room together’ as a fic setup, but I think however many months of lockdown it’s been now has rather heightened that appreciation.)

4- Share a sentence or paragraph from your writing that you’re really proud of (explain why, if you like)

From the most recent fic, it’s got to be this bit:

“Well, I’d like an apology, at least,” said Nora’s voice. Everyone turned to look at her. She was standing off to the right of the group with her arms folded.

“Nora,” someone hissed.

“What??” she asked, unfolding her arms and gesturing emphatically. “We’re all thinking it! He tried to have us all arrested!” There was a pause.

“She has a point,” said Jaune, reasonably.

I think I nailed the character voices and also the comedic timing.

20- Tell us the meta about your writing that you really want to ramble to people about (symbolism you’ve included, character or relationship development that you love, hidden references, callbacks or clues for future scenes?)

Ruby! And! Ironwood! As! Narrative! Parallels! It’s safe to assume that I’m always pushing that particular agenda if I’m writing about either of those two. I’ve got this pet theory that Ironwood was a lot like Ruby when he was younger, based on all the interactions they’ve had in canon that show their similarities (action-oriented, stubborn, value their role as protectors, natural leaders despite being awkward socially, tendency to compartmentalise their own issues to support other people, etc.) and the fact that his character song matches up so well in places with what we know of her motivation. Except Ironwood has thirty additional years of trauma and compromising and being crushed by the weight of his responsibilities that’s all combined to push him towards pragmatism (and eventually ruthlessness), and that’s why they’ve come down on opposite sides now. 

So I tend to have them mirror each other, either literally through body language or just thematically by having them solve things in similar ways. For example, in the Fix-It fic, there’s moments where both Ruby and Ironwood lean into a particular tone of voice that makes people listen to them (and they use it on each other, to boot), and they’re also both ignoring any personal feelings they have about their prior conflict to do the right thing now. And the whole of ‘Trust’ is basically exploring their similarities, right down to having them run into each other in the training room in the middle of the night, both in their pyjamas (and boots and weapons belts) and both planning on shooting things until they’re tired enough to actually sleep despite their worries and insomnia.

I just love them both and the parallels between them make me sad so naturally I’m fixated on them.

23- What’s the story idea you’ve had in your head for the longest?

Original story-wise, I’ve had my space story since I think late 2018, and it’s still developing and evolving. As for RWBY fic ideas (since that’s what’s currently on my mind), I’ve had ideas for an AU where Penny and Ruby team up to persuade Ironwood that she’s allowed to stay at Beacon for absolutely forever. I’ve really wanted to explore the relationship between those three ever since Vol 2, and Vol 8 is finally giving me the content featuring my three faves that I’ve been craving except it’s sad, so I’ll probably end up revisiting some of those ideas.

25- What part of writing is the most fun?

Dialogue. Absolutely dialogue. I love writing descriptions as well, but nothing is quite as satisfying as getting the character voices so clear in your head that it feels almost like you’re just writing down a conversation that you’re watching them have.

[artpoint420]

Melvin and the Silent Diagnosis for a Brilliantly Broken Psyche

Hypothetical Diagnosis Insecurity masked with narcissistic tendencies characterized with compulsive obsessions driven by blatant autism, and no that is not an immature insult I test extremely highly for Asperger's myself Here's the Evidence: (I will state before hand that Melvin-borg is a completely separate character in my mind, and thus will not be included in this particular theory.  Melvin decided not to turn out like him, so they are canonically separate characters) He is obviously and frequently inspired by George and Harold, but his deeply embedded fear of rejection makes him dangerously bitter, and it doesn't help that everytime he breaks out of this protective shell, he is rejected or betrayed once again. It’s important to note that while he may be high-functioning (aka: Aspergers) he is still Autistic. That’s because Asperger’s is not a form of autism- it is autism. Period. And any kind of autism or mental attypicality left untreated can develop in to many, many other severe mental disorders, or, in general, make life a metric heck ton harder and complicated than it already is. I also need to confess that I test highly positively for autism myself as well as being an INTP female (Myers-Briggs Personality Test). Not to brag, but all that combined with my naturally creative nature makes me rare af, but it also means I can't communicate or handle stress #liketheothergirls, so that has lead me to being/feeling bullied and ostracized.  I also have anxiety and depression issue which run in my family, and mild insomnia, and may or may not be relapsing into an eating disorder. Paired with psychical problems like acid reflux and severe neck tension, health, whether psychical or mental is of uttermost importance to me.  It suffices to say, autism is not easy to deal with and if not taken care for properly a person, especially if not made at least aware of what autism truly is, it can truly ruin their life. Combined with the neglectful nature of his parents (at least in the books) I and many others in this fandom truly believe Melvin is at least autistically coded. Not only does this fit the archetype of his character but it also fits the theme of the books to a TEE. At its core, CU, of all things, is a children's book series, about living your best life despite not being “normal.” Even characters like the teachers or Mr Krupp who strive for “normality” are shown to actually have deeply repressed creativity, or, in some cases, deep trauma from their own childhoods. It suffices to say that I resonate deeply with Melvin. Say what you want about him or me, I was able to relate to him the second he spoke his first line in the second book. Sorry to turn this into a long vent, but I feel it is best to use myself to support this theory as well as harder evidence, even if it is mostly a means of self-therapy. To start, we both are obsessed with school even to a detrimental degree. Ever since head-start (Pre-K but a million times better), these "book-smarts" were the first thing I ever truly excelled at. When the other kids bullied (or as I now know as teasing) me, I would lose myself in a stack of homework or a book 2-3 grades past my grade level (this is before I drew or wrote as a main hobby). Similarly, Melvin is rarely seen without a book or gadget, just like me. We both over analyze things and hide our feelings. We both have intense crushes on others but are terrified to dare express them, or do but to nothing but awkwardness. We were both science kids, and fascinated by words and/or numbers alone (I still am just in a more artistic way). We both struggle to communicate and relate to others. We both have a unusual sense of humor and are highly observant of surroundings all the while missing what’s in front of our noses. We both have interests that quickly spiral into obsessions and dropping the obsession only when sick of it. We both practice similar forms of stimming. We both not only thrive but crave control and structure with the world around us, even to the point of being "control freaks" and creating odd habits, routines, and rituals regardless of whether they are necessary or make sense. We both have an intense fear of intimacy and rejection to the point of practicing self-isolation and in some cases self harm or other unhealthy coping methods (seen with Melvin over eating sweets or over working himself. For me it’s disordered eating or self flagellation, something I have all but completely dropped but still) We also both tend to see ourselves as inferior to others and attempt to mask those feelings with a superiority complex (I feel bad for my siblings but I didn’t know what I was doing, and no it was not abusive just sibling rivalry and I’m the oldest anyway, and we are country kids and understand “rough-housing” =/= using each other as a punching bag, but accidents happen I'm sorry) We both seem to become easily overstimulated and have explosive mental and emotional breakdowns when things just . . . become too much However the harsh divide between male and female and fictional and nonfictional means we both present certain traits differently. Whereas he presents a more linear line of thinking my mind is overwhelmingly sporadic. Also, I have over sensitivities to touch and light (and sometimes certain noises, but not anything not normal? Wfk.) But maybe he does have oversensitivity but I can't think of an example off the top of my head. Enough about me however. I know Melvin and autism has been done to death.  Hell, I just did it to death.  My actual theory is more on the inner mechanisms of his mind and predicting how he will develop should the series allow for full character development. Also, similar to my Krupp theory, I will be listing his crimes out and give him a proper sentence for his age and maturity level (which will be light as I am sympathetic to his plight).   This is already getting too long, so Imma try to finally get to the point.  Characters with autism are honestly a mixed bag, sometimes there as standardized as my mystery Daddy Sherlock Holmes and other times they are as subtle as Pearl or Peridot from Steven Universe (has Rebbaca Sugar confirmed this? sorry). Honestly, it does distress me that autism is almost always used to have an evil genius character or some weird side character for brownie/ diversity points. (this makes me a bit hypocritical I guess, considering my own stories. I guess tropes are tropes for a reason) And while Dav Pilky May not be subtle with his scholastic politics or humor his one spectacular tool in his writing books has always been, when it comes to his characters, showing instead of telling. This is something I latched on to even as a kid, and I was already thinking up theories on the characters before I even knew character theories were a thing.  Like what happened to Harold's Dad (hint, hint).  Why was Harold's sister rarely used?  Does Mr Krupp actually like their comics (a now accepted theory, but not just min? And many many others I'm probably never gonna write.  It took until how long in the books to reveal George and Harold have ADHD? Before that they were simply described as being as smart as Melvin but just in different ways. Personally I feel that autism is inverted ADHD. This is an opinion I’ve recently formed so if I’m wrong bloody attack me in the comments. Anyway, Melvin presenting autism makes him the perfect foil to George and Harolds’ more sporadic antics. The only true difference between autistic folks and ADHD folks is that those with autism tend to crave a structured environment full of rules, and set goals to achieve, while such an environment is HELL to children with ADHD (aka:George and Harold). (Even though if with adults they can trust, children with ADHD thrive in structured environments if they are surrounded by adults or authority figures they can trust.)  I know some will tell me ADHD is on the spectrum, but I just learned this like actually the other day and don’t fully understand it.  My prediction is that Melvin will eventually and naturally mellow out if just because staying so high strung all the time is a huge waste of mental energy.  I know good as hell I had to.  Also, he mellowed our in the books and went from a screeching revenge exacting lil narcissistic white boi prick to a person who simply wants to pursue his interests and even helping George and Harold (selfishly, but help nonetheless). He even went from enjoying the fame and attention of hero-ing to realizing it did not fufill him. Indeed quite the opposite.  His true passion lay in solving world problems through science, and I don't think the ending for him in the books could have been any more perfect considering his character.   In the Netflix show, similar to how I think Krupp's personalities are merging, I believe that Melvin will eventually become more like his Broski alter ego (which I calmly demand more of).  Overall, given that this show needs to go back to the status quo more often than not, I don't think his core character will ever change, and it doesn't need to.  Multiple times throughout the series he's been shown to crave friendship from George and Harold, despite audibly hating him . Textbook Tsundere, I know.  He will form a friendly rivalry with George and Harold, I have almost no doubt about that, taking the season 1 finale, season 2 finale, season 3 first episode, and halloween special into consideration. (Yeah, if someone will send me clips I will give them my eternal gratefulness) To conclude, because by god this is long, Melvin is, SHOCKER, just a little kid.  A little kid who likes muffins and dolls and has big hopes and dreams.  A little kid whose love for science and unrecognized creativity is channeled into making inventions that are even more impressive than those of Professor P (sorry P).  But he is a little kid with his own needs and stuggles which at this point remain unmet.  His parents are canonically neglectful, I cannot repeat that enough times.  The effects of neglect are a hell-hole of its own regardless of growing up with undiagnosed autism.  But that's just a theory- Alright, that was a banger, I guess next up is Melvin-borg since writing this has given me some interesting ideas for him.  Let’s see how long this hyperfocus train will go!

[pink-grapefruit-cafe]

insomnia (ninex)

born of my own insomnia, here is an un-betad, un-checked ninex character study thingy-m-bob.

high in metaphors and low-level angst, low in nutrition, protein and lactose.

Nina’s not very good at sleeping. It’s never come easy and he’s frankly terrible at it but he finds ways around it. Loopholes.

He knows that one glass of wine is a buzz, two is sleepy and three is a headache in the morning and a bad taste in his mouth that lingers through tough bristles and artificial mint. He knows that you cannot mix pills with potions and expect to come out alive just like you cannot mix a lion and a colosseum and expect to walk out with four limbs and a smile. Unless you have a sword. He also knows there is no sword that fights insomnia.

He learns over time, that like a lizard, he likes a warm body to sleep and if that means that things have to happen prior to that - so be it. He likes to skip around the ‘things’ though, never kicks the guy out of his bed and hopes for the same in return. He doesn’t complain when he does the walk of shame - sees it as more of a walk of ‘at least I fucking slept’ and can't help but feel a little proud from time to time - on the days he feels well rested.

It’s rare that he feels well rested, he supposes, sipping the hard coffee that only makes him softer, more rounded as a person. The caffeine fills him out a little, pads the sharp corners and the hollows under his eyes - cushions him. ‘Everyone has their vices’ he likes to say, not batting an eyelid when he is reminded for the fortieth time that ‘not all vices have to be addictive’. It’s a shame most of his are.

He’s been told he has an addictive personality, ‘kid at disneyland’ and all that jazz. He wonders what kind of addiction that is. Whether its the kind that leaves you buzzing and warm or if it leaves you cold harsh and cranky - the sole focus being seeing him again. He supposes it is the former but then again, his glasses are more rose than clear nowadays.

You see, Nina knows all of this - every single bit. He knows about the wine and the pills and the coffee and the vices but he ignores it. He sleeps alone in a bed made for two, sheets cold on his back but the air, colder. He knows that four glasses of wine turn him into a flirt that will never sleep but does it more often than not regardless. He knows that caffeine is more of a placebo than anything but subscribes to the theory like a fashion magazine or a television service, spending more of coffee than he does on entertainment. He knows that sleeping pills should help but after months of them doing anything but, he leaves the small orange tub in his medicine cabinet and walks away.

*

Monet can sleep through anything. He sleeps on planes and greyhound buses along roads that stretch for miles with no discernable end. He can sleep on the A train and the M train, from 63rd to Chrystie. It’s never been a problem.

One glass of wine is a buzz, two is a little loud and three can be a party if you play it right, music blaring through loudspeakers that haven’t been replaced in years, the kind that physically moves so much, dust cannot settle. He doesn’t really drink wine though, prefers elaborate cocktails that cost too much and taste like too much and are too much. The kind that gets you drunk too fast but at least you’re having fun. He watches Nina sip a fourth glass of wine and sits back winks and smiles.

When they fall into bed, they engage in something they are too drunk to call sex and then Nina falls asleep. Monet does not, mind whirring like a white noise machine, a constant hum made by the man asleep on his chest. The sheets are too warm and the air is thick with sweat that drips down his forehead like a glorified sprinkler system. His lips taste salty and all too much like Andrew and it does not settle him. He is not calm enough to sleep, just awake enough to stare into space for a while as his chin rests on the head of a man who should inhabit his dreams.

“How did you sleep?” He asks the other man the next morning, stretching out from how he had been wrapped round like a tree.

Nina has no answer, just smiles and rubs his eyes like a child - an endearing sight. He is happy and contented and feels well rested for the second time in a month - a new personal best. They go to the Starbucks across the street and talk - about everything, and not much at all.

Nina learns he likes his sheets cold, prefers a pitch black room but isn’t too fussed and only drinks tea - not for any pretentious health reasons but simply because he doesn’t need coffee.

Monet’s not particularly proud as he sips his Teavana, knows that the man opposite paid less for a straight black coffee but finds himself unwilling to argue on the dichotomy of Starbucks at three in the afternoon so he just chews on his paper straw and stares at Nina West.

Realistically, he stares at Andrew, admires the way the blue under his eyes mottles the pale peach of his flesh, the way it bruises like a drop of paint in water - turning purple and green and a little read by the corners. He wonders how much of the softness of his face is worn rags and confidence and how much is skin and blood and fear. As the man flicks through his book, a quiet bemusement settling on his face, Monet Kevin decides it’s crumpled pages and calm.

“I slept really well last night,” Nina speaks up after he notices the other man staring. He closes the book and sets it down, draining the rest of his coffee. “I don’t usually sleep too good, but it was nice.”

“I wouldn’t be opposed to repeating it.”

“Ditto.”

[martinthomasoregan]

Between the Walls

He was awake but he still hadn’t opened his eyes. If he opened his eyes he was awake. How could he open his eyes if he was not awake as the effort to open his eyes would require a conscious thought. How could he have a conscious thought when the state of sleep is by it’s very definition a state where consciousness is practically suspended. Although the male subject in 612 often took to talking and walking about at all hours with his eyes open while still in the practically unconscious state of sleep. His nocturnal antics were a source of great annoyance as the subjects bedroom was directly on the opposite side of the wall. He did not trust the subject in 612. The Departmental Manual stated very clearly in Article 4, Section 5 that: ‘Sleep is a condition of body and mind which typically recurs for several hours every night, in which the nervous system is inactive, the eyes closed, the postural muscles relaxed, and consciousness practically suspended. While a subject cannot survive without oxygen, water or food, it is unclear if sleep deprivation can kill a subject. Although it is possible that given enough time, it will. While no biological being* is known to have died from staying awake, animal research strongly suggests it could happen. Dr Allan Rechtschaffen conducted a series of groundbreaking experiments on rats. After 32 days of total sleep deprivation, all the rats were dead. Curiously, researchers still do not agree on the cause of death. It is possible that the rats’ body temperature dropped so much that they succumbed to hypothermia. Another theory posits that the rats’ immune systems became so depressed that bacteria normally sequestered in their intestines spread throughout their bodiesthough Rechtschaffen counters that his rats perished even when they were administered antibiotics. A third explanation points to some evidence of brain damage among the sleep-deprived rats. It’s also possible that extreme levels of stress contributed to the rats’ demise. The longest recorded time without sleep for a subject is approximately 264 hours, or just over 11 consecutive days. Whether lack of sleep can kill a subject is irrelevant as by the eleventh day the quality of information that may be extracted is of no value due to the subject lapsing into a state of extreme paranoia and psychosis. The subject may be allowed to rest for a period until it is fully recuperated and the process may be started again if some degree of progress was attained during the first instance otherwise alternative methods may be employed. There is some anecdotal evidence that those who experience an anomaly known as chronic insomnia are more resistant to this form of persuasion. Insomnia is a condition whereby the subject experiences disturbed or less frequent sleep. It may be a temporary or chronic condition. It is posited that those who experience insomnia habitually develop coping mechanisms that render them more resistant to the disorientating effects of sleep deprivation. Research to confirm this hypothesis is ongoing. It is required that an officer practice undergoing sleep deprivation for a period of at least seventy two hours bi-monthly(once every two months) in expectation that he may accrue some resistance to this technique and acquire an understanding of the process the subject is undergoing during extraction. The coping mechanisms developed by this practice will be invaluable in the field in stressful situations where an officer will be required to function rationally without the recommended hours of sleep. The recommended daily hours of sleep at the time of writing are as in accordance with Department Directive 43168795                                                Newborn-3 months old       11 hours                                

4-11 months old                 10 hours                                

1-2 years old                        9 hours                                

3-5 years old                        8 hours                                

6-13 years old                      7 hours                                

14-17 years old                    7 hours                                

18-25 years old                    6 hours                                

26-64 years old                    6 hours                               

65+ years old                       5 hours 

*Article 4.1.1 defines a biological being as one who is an anatomically modern Human of the order Homo sapiens. All other living things being organisms. It should be noted that these targets may be subject to change in accordance with the requirements of the Department. In order to function at maximum efficiency an officer is required to sleep six hours within each 24 hour period under normal conditions. Another anomaly is that of talking in ones sleep. The subject may also walk in its sleep or even open its eyes and appear quite lucid while being in a state of sleep. This is a very desirable condition in a subject under observation as information may be extracted without recourse to the usual methods of persuasion. The quality of the information gleaned in such a manner is at the discretion of the officer and/or his superiors to judge and may be used as evidence or as a confession from the subject. While this condition is desirable in a subject under observation it is completely unacceptable in an officer given the confidential nature of the officer’s profession. Officers are required by Departmental regulation 25674 to inform the Departmental official to whom he reports of any officer of the Department or other official who may be in possession of confidential information who to his knowledge may display such flawed characteristics.’ His sleepy face twisted in a wry smile. One night that fool on the other side of the wall will say the wrong thing and when the report is finally read he will get a decent nights sleep. He found to his surprise his eyes were open, having no recollection of making a conscious effort to do so. The light bulb gave a slight flicker as he shuddered. He could feel the twist in his stomach as he stared up at the grey ceiling in despair. The ceiling seemed so far away when you were lying prone on the bed when in reality it was only 6ft from the floor. His bed was wedged between two concrete walls with no gap on either side. Above his head was another cold concrete wall. The proximity of the walls were the reason the ceiling seemed so high. The walls were so confining one could not curl up in the 2ft wide bed and his feet dangled over the end of the 5’6” long bed. Every night he had to crawl up on the bed and pull the covers over him. In the morning he must first pull himself up into a sitting position against the back wall before crawling out. Butterflies gnawed at his empty stomach when he thought of this effort. He gave himself a conscious order to rouse. He heaved his gaunt body up to a sitting position. His head spun for a moment and the far wall at the turn of the passage seemed to grow further and further away.  He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. He rubbed his slender fingers against his forehead and after collecting his thoughts he opened his eyes again. He looked down the slender shaft and to his relief everything had regained its familiar proportion. He sat up on his hunkers and fixed the sheet on the bed smoothing it with his hands. Having tucked in the sheet he crawled carefully down to the end trying not to cause too much disturbance. When he alighted from the bed he turned and stooped to fix the sheet. He dropped his right hand to steady himself due to a moment of weakness then slowly and deliberately ironed out the sheet. Having finished dressing the bed he stood to survey his work. A feeling of pride was betrayed by the slight grimace that turned into a grin of satisfaction. ‘Nothing like a well made bed’, he thought. The bed was no more than a foot high wooden frame with a thin mattress laid over wooden laths nailed into the frame. The numbers wrote on the piece of wood at the top of the end were faded but still legible. They were 1 2 3 4 and referred to the four resident officers that occupied the warren once. He picked up his rubber soled deck shoes and sat slightly on the bed to put them on. A quick inspection of them beforehand told him they would soon disintegrate due to wear. The soles were worn thin and were starting to become unglued from the frayed uppers. Nevertheless he put them on as they were the only footwear he had left. Another slight dizziness overtook him when he looked at his watch. The movement of the hands were difficult to discern and it took all his concentration to read the time. It was almost 6 a.m. the second hand glided smoothly towards the twelve. He watched it slowly progress towards its destination. It was a strange phenomenon of time that when you count the seconds they seem to take an age yet whole years fly by in an instant. Threee, twwooo, oooonnne,  6 a.m. on the dot so he stood up from the bed and proceeded down the hallway. After a series of bewildering turns to the left and right he descended a winding staircase with a quite alacrity. At the bottom of the staircase was another similar hallway and he negotiated the many turns to the wash-room. The wash-room was located at the other side of the complex on the fourth floor. In fact none of the so-called rooms could be called rooms they were merely cul-de-sacs where each passage ended with no distinguishing partition or door except for the office and supply room on the ground and second floor. Neither the bedroom, the wash-room, the kitchen nor the mess were the intended destination of their respective passages rather an incidental result of the termination of each passage. The wash-room consisted of a toilet fitted flush to the end wall, in front of the toilet, to it’s left, a square concrete basin protruded from the wall with a spout in close proximity above. The pipes were exposed and could be seen running into the hot and cold taps attached to the wall. A simple turn of a handle directed the water either to the spout over the basin or the shower head above. In the centre of the banked floor was a hole for the water to escape and a couple of metal hooks were placed on the wall for towels and clothes away from the direction of the water flow. All the officers had to be careful as to when to use the shower due to the noise and also as to when the toilet was flushed. Both of these operations could only be done when the adjoining apartments were empty. The cold tap squeaked as he gently turned it and after a slight belch a steady flow of water emerged to his relief. He didn’t touch the hot tap as the pipes always creaked and moaned as if the bowels of the building were relieving themselves and at this hour the noise would be heard throughout the whole complex. He imagined such a noise in the early hours of the morning would induce terrors in the residents. The Department Manual stated in Article 40.5:  ‘When a subject is to be apprehended in a residence by officers of The State whether it be an arrest or for questioning/observation the officers under the rules of best practice should fulfil their duty between the hours 03:00 and 06:00. This is the optimum window as the subject having arisen at a time when normally asleep will be disorientated and less likely to protest or flee. The occupiers of adjoining residences will in general be less likely to notice or will deliberately ignore such a disturbance in preference to rising from their beds. Those who do not however and partake in witnessing the event should be considered abettors in trying to dissuade the officers from performing their duties. Under Article 1.1.2 and Article 2.2.4 there is no reason for anyone to actively witness The State in performance of its official duties unless of course by requirement of The State. Such activities imply that The State or The Department may in some way be negligent in the performance of its duties or in deliberate non compliance with its own regulations as in the ruling in Case 179 per Regulation 36754: “It is the duty of each citizen to trust in the apparatus of The State and any disregard would not be aiding The Department in its function to maintain a well ordered society”.’ He rubbed his hands methodically under the cold water then cupped them applying the cool liquid to his face and the back of his neck. Having finished he turned off the tap ringing out his hands. He navigated his way back through the close corridor and descended the stairs making his way to the kitchen in forlorn hope. There were no cooking facilities in the kitchen but there was a small fridge and a food preparation area. There was no food in the kitchen. Although he knew there was no food he still checked the fridge in the expectation that food might appear. To his chagrin there was no food to be seen. He closed the door with a heavy hand and surveyed the kitchen. There was a deep concrete sink in the corner with a wire rack attached to the wall above it for dishes to dry. Beside the rack were four cupboards and the numbers 1,2,3,4 scrawled in black marker on the brown laminated surface of each door. Beneath the press stretched a white laminated counter at the same level as the sink above a series of brown drawers. Underneath the drawers were four more cupboards and beside them the fridge where he stood. He went to the cupboard marked 3 and he opened it. He took a white cup from it and filled it with water from the sink. Once filled he turned and paused for a second remembering the days when the kitchen was full of bustle. He remembered when the fridge was full of cold cuts and the cupboards brimming with tins of food and fresh bread. His stomach grumbled bringing him back to the stark reality of his existence. He left the kitchen. The walls breathed in and out as the bare light bulbs dimmed and brightened with each breath. His heart thumped slowly in his chest. The corridor stretched far into a dark distance and the loud beating of his heart grew faster. He quickened his pace but the undulating ground beneath him fought against every stride. The air was thick as liquid as he gulped it down. He reached the stairway and stumbled down like a man who had lost his footing. At the bottom he leaned against the wall but it pushed him back. He steadied himself and ran as best he could brushing off the walls that rejected him. He knew he had to make it to where he was going but where that was he could not tell. Water splashed from his cup onto the floor and hissed like burning acid. The corridor moved and shifted, corner after corner each hallway was the same, taunting him. He turned a corner and saw the cul de sac that was the mess. It shimmered like a reflection in rippling water. He stopped and stared at the table. Slowly it started to come back into focus, he turned and anxiously looked down the narrow passage. It seemed no different than usual but he felt a change. He slid down along the bench and placed the cup on the table. His hands were shaking nervously as he wiped the cold sweat from his brow. He regained his composure and rested his back against the hard wall. How long did it take him to get here he wondered so he looked at his watch. His watch was always accurate and had never lost a second. He focused his bleary eyes and stare at it hard. It was a quarter past six only fifteen minutes had passed. It was one of those watches where the inner workings were partly visible and it always fascinated him. He stared at the shining golden cogs as they whirred around. Each one seemed to be attached to several others as they rotated at differing speeds. The closer you stared the more cogs appeared and as you delved into its mechanical universe you became mesmerised as even more infinitesimal cogs appeared making the tiniest of cogs seem like giants. It went on and on like this with no reason or sign of stopping. Somewhere in its unfathomable depths he was aware there must be a spring that set those cogs in motion but try as he could he could never see it until he wondered if one existed at all or were the cogs just simply in perpetual motion each one turning several others which in turn turned several more to infinity until the first cog was turned by a multitude of lesser cogs. The watch had been given to him here on the day of his tenth year of service in the warren by Sergeant Schneider the First Resident Officer.