#I can allow myself to be stupid. DC is my work fandom so I’m taking a little vacation

[littledead-ridinghood]

I have two Google docs for things I want to write: one for meta and the other is for fic and dumb little art ideas. I also have multiple WIPs as any person should have at any given time.

There are so many nice (adjacent) ideas I want to write but I’m so reactionary to certain fandom takes now that I’ll never do it. I used to be able to swallow certain takes with an “I don’t agree with that but it’s cute right now and I’m also on my period so I want to cry over fluff anyway.” But for my own personal sanity, I don’t want to “endorse” certain fanon things I’ve come to bristle at.

I have seen many others before post about how the deeper they get into their fav media, the more they move away from shrugging and scrolling towards visceral rage. Now, I’m not boiling with rage or whatever but I do know that the emotions I’m feeling means I need to back off for a while which is so disappointing. There’s so many ideas that I fear while never see the light of day because I can’t get behind “feel good family” takes without feeling like I’m declawing characters.

[raywritesthings]

Old Associations

My Writing Fandom: Arrow Characters: Oliver Queen, Laurel Lance, Leslie Thompkins, Felicity Smoak, John Diggle, Thea Queen, Lyla Michaels Pairing: Laurel Lance/Oliver Queen Notes: Post-Episode 4x16 “Broken Hearts, No “Eleven-Fifty-Nine”, Leslie Thompkins borrowed from Batman: the Animated Series/DC Comics and is not based on the Gotham version. *Can also be read on my AO3*

John didn’t know what to do.

Before his eyes, Oliver and Felicity’s relationship was deteriorating more and more. First Felicity broke off the engagement. Then, he’d thought maybe they could salvage things with the fake wedding to lure in Cupid, but Felicity had been upset to be working with Oliver the entire time. And just an hour ago, he’d come back to the base since he’d forgotten his phone to find Oliver settled there for the night, engagement ring in his hands.

“Felicity’s quit the team,” Oliver had told him. “And I don’t think we’ll see her for a while.”

John had struggled to say anything. It seemed unthinkable that Felicity wouldn’t be part of the team anymore. Even while she and Oliver had been away, she’d been helping them with things without Oliver’s knowledge.

“Look, things might change, man,” he’d said. “You know, Lyla and I never thought we could work past our issues all those years ago—”

“But I know I can’t, John. I’ve tried, but I will always be what the island made me. Felicity said so herself.” His friend had retreated back to the small room he was using to sleep in at the bunker without another word.

Now that he was home, John found himself turning to his wife for advice. “Oliver has to be able to change, I know he does. He just needs a little more help, maybe. Then Felicity would see.”

“They could try counseling,” she suggested without a hint of sarcasm.

John paused and looked at her. “Not sure someone with a secret identity should be talking to a therapist.”

Lyla shook her head. “ARGUS has a division for mental health. It’s completely confidential, even for a vigilante like Oliver.”

“And they do couple’s counseling?” He asked doubtfully.

“There’s counseling sessions for field partners. Sometimes it’s not so different. Look, your team does enough for us that I’d be happy to get Oliver and Felicity in for a session. If they want to.”

John thought about it some more. It was better than doing nothing, wasn’t it?

“Alright, I’ll see what they think. Thanks, Sweetie.” He leaned over to kiss her cheek. “How come we didn’t do one of those when we got back stateside?”

She smirked. “By the time I learned about them, you were already back in Afghanistan, Johnny.”

“Right.”

They turned in early that night. John had a feeling it would be a long day of convincing his friends tomorrow.

---

“No, no, no, no and no.” Said Felicity as she marched away from the sitting room and into her kitchen of her now one-person loft. She needed coffee. It was about the only thing she knew how to make for herself. Why did Oliver have to be the one who was good at cooking?

John followed her, of course. “Come on, Felicity. One session, just to try it.”

“I’m done with trying, John. I’m tired of it.”

“You and Oliver are meant to be together.”

“Oliver’s thought he was meant to be with a lot of different women. And we all saw how that turned out.”

He sighed and hung his head. “Look, I just don’t want to see you give up now. This is the man you wanted to sneak out of Nanda Parbat last year.”

“Which you thought was a terrible idea!”

“That doesn’t change that I know how much you love him.”

She set the coffee pot down with a little more force than necessary. “Look, assuming Oliver even agrees to therapy—”

“He will.”

“—that doesn’t change the fact that he lied to me.”

“It can’t change the past, Felicity, but it can improve things for the future. It’ll help you—”

“Whoa.” Felicity held up a hand. “Let’s be clear, I am not the one who needs help in this relationship. Which is not still a relationship.” Stupid mouth getting ahead of her brain.

John was doing his best to hide his grin. “Alright, so it’ll help Oliver to be what you need him to be.”

Much as she wanted to, that was an idea hard to shake. She’d spent so long wanting to be with Oliver, given up other relationships in favor of him, put so many hours into his cause. It’d be nice if the last four years hadn’t all been a waste. She liked it when they were together — really liked the sex — so if the rest of it could get fixed, why not?

Felicity sighed. “One session. That’s all I’m committing to.”

“Great. I’ll let Oliver know and Lyla can talk to you about scheduling.”

He left the loft soon after, and Felicity poured herself a large travel mug for the office.

She really hoped she didn’t end up regretting this.

---

It was the last thing he wanted to do. But he was forced to agree the minute John said the words, “Felicity’s gonna do it.”

What other choice did he have? If this was what he had to do to repair what he’d broken, he would take it, as uncomfortable as it might make him. Trying wasn’t enough, as Felicity had said. He had to just do it.

He could feel himself growing tense as the date of the appointment approached. Thea and Laurel could both tell something was wrong, but he was grateful that they were allowing him to keep his silence. He felt better in their company and John’s than when he was left alone in the base. 

Some nights, as he lay on a spare table with his pillow from the loft under his head, he imagined what it would be like back at Laurel and Thea’s apartment. Bright and warm with mugs of tea and ice cream for the approaching warmer months. He pictured himself there sometimes, sharing the couch with Thea or watching Laurel try to cook in the kitchen archway. He wasn’t sure if it helped the loneliness or made it all the worse.

Logically, he knew plenty of people went to therapy. It wasn’t a bad thing. But he had always shied away from the idea for himself. As many times as people in his life and in the public had questioned his sanity...

But there was something wrong with him, wasn’t there? If he wanted to be with Felicity, he had to fix that part of himself first.

He went through his usual training routine the morning before the appointment, pushing himself to his limits in an effort to work through his nerves.

Laurel coming down alerted him to the time, so he dropped off the salmon ladder and grabbed a towel. “Room’s free.”

“You heading out?”

“Yeah,” he said a beat too late. Of course, she noticed.

“Everything okay, Ollie?”

“It’s fine,” he said, then paused. That was his problem, right? He was going to have to be sharing private information with Felicity and a stranger in just over an hour. Maybe he should test it now. “I just...John got Felicity and I an appointment for couple’s counseling.”

He watched her eyes widen and could see the initial shocked response get swallowed back. “Is it- I mean, can you talk about, well, anything?”

“It’s someone with ARGUS, so yes. That’s the idea.”

“Okay.” She set her bag aside and took a step closer. “You said John signed you guys up. Are you okay with that? Did he ask you?”

“He told me after Felicity agreed. Does it matter?”

Her lips quirked, something like confusion in her eyes. “Of course it matters.”

“I have to do this, Laurel. If I want to save my relationship, this is something I just have to get through.” He frowned. He was making it sound like he didn’t want this, which he didn’t exactly, but that wasn’t just up to him. He was making this decision with Felicity, right? “I know it’ll help me, I just…”

“I get it. Really,” she added when he simply raised both eyebrows. “When my dad tried to get me to go to an AA meeting the first time, I balked. I wasn’t ready. Sharing pieces of yourself to strangers can be terrifying, you know? Especially when you don’t want to admit anything’s wrong. It wasn’t until I accepted that AA was something I needed that it worked for me.”

Oliver nodded, then allowed himself a smirk. “I guess I’m just so used to you speaking your mind, I forgot you might have experience with this. There’s not much you don’t share anymore.”

“You’d be surprised. I have to keep some secrets, don’t I?” She ducked her head as she asked it, and Oliver thought he saw her throat bob once as she swallowed. In the next instant, her hand landed on his arm and she gave it a comforting squeeze.

“Talk as little or as much as you feel comfortable. This is to help you and Felicity, but that’s only going to happen if you feel it really is helping.”

He blew out a breath. “Okay. I’ll try that.” Then he winced. It wasn’t about trying anymore, trying wasn’t good enough—

Laurel’s hand shifted to his shoulder, her smile warm and encouraging. “I really hope this works out for you.”

“Thank you.”

She grabbed her things to change into her workout clothes, and Oliver managed to get himself moving to the elevator. He felt calmer now, grounded. He was in control of this situation as much as he allowed himself to be. It wasn’t an interrogation. He wouldn’t be forced to answer anything he didn’t want to. This was just a way for him and Felicity to better communicate.

They met outside the ARGUS facility by accident more than design. Felicity gave him a short nod, expression tight, and he opened the door for her. Inside, he allowed her to take the lead in introducing themselves and the time of their appointment.

They were shown into the office of Dr. Leslie Thompkins, an older woman with her gray hair tied back in a bun at the base of her neck. Oliver wondered what had led her to a life with ARGUS for so long.

“Felicity and Oliver, I was told. Is that right? Come in, over on the couch there. I’ve brought a chair over for myself.” She waited until they had each sat down, Felicity squeezing herself into the far corner from him, before taking her own seat. “You both can call me Leslie, if you like. Otherwise Dr. Thompkins will do. Now then, I want to hear in your words first what issues you’ve been having as a couple. Try to be honest and respectful.”

She didn’t indicate which of them should go first, but Felicity took the initiative. “Well, Leslie, I personally thought everything was fine up until a month ago when I discovered Oliver had a son with another woman he had not told me about.”

“I see.” There was nothing in her tone or expression to give away how she felt about that information. He supposed that made her good at her job.

Oliver’s gaze fixed on the carpet as Felicity continued. “It’s not the son that bothers me, I should say. It’s the lying. For as long as I have known him, Oliver has been a compulsive liar. He’s always withholding things or making plans on his own — a few months ago he invited my mother to dinner without asking me first. I mean, she’s my mother, right? I should have a say in at least that if he’s not going to give me a say in anything to do with his son.”

“Oliver, what about you?”

“Me?”

“Yes, I want to hear from both of you.”

He managed to look back up at Dr. Thompson. “I don’t have any problems with Felicity. I love being with her. I hope we can still be together.”

“But she clearly has some problems with you.”

He nodded. “I understand that’s how she feels about me right now.” Oliver chanced a glance out of the corner of his eye to see Felicity watching him with a frown.

“And that’s how you feel as well?”

“I...It’s a fair assessment. I do keep things to myself. I know that it’s been a problem with my loved ones in the past, that I’ve hurt them when I didn’t mean to. I’ve been trying—”

“That’s the thing, Leslie, he’s always saying he’ll try. Then he goes and lies again, and he promises he won’t the next time, but then — are you getting the cycle?”

“Yes, I understand. The thing about abuse and about trauma is that oftentimes it can trap its victims in a cycle,” Dr. Thompkins said. She afforded Oliver an apologetic smile. “I was made aware of some of your background with ARGUS under Director Waller.”

He nodded again. It was something he should have assumed.

“Director Waller created an environment within the agency of fear and mistrust. These can be hard impulses to unlearn, particularly when faced with similar stressors or stimuli.”

“Okay, but Oliver stopped working with ARGUS years ago,” Felicity pointed out. “Are you telling me he’s just never going to unlearn them?”

“I was doing better in Ivy Town,” Oliver mumbled. “Last summer, when we left Star.”

“You removed yourself from the stressors. That can be one way to deal with trauma,” Dr. Thompkins explained. “The next step would be to begin practicing coping mechanisms that encourage you to be more open with a friend or partner.”

“And when can he start those?” Felicity asked.

Dr. Thompkins sat back a little, considering. “I’d like to try a short exercise right now, Oliver. A word association test. Do you know what I mean?”

“Words that relate to other words?” He guessed.

“It’s when a person’s given a word and they have to say the first word that comes to mind after hearing the other word. It’s used mostly to study memory storage,” Felicity answered for him.

“That’s correct, yes. I’m hopeful that it will help for Oliver to practice opening up and saying what he’s thinking while for myself and Felicity, it should help us to identify possible stressors or subjects that are difficult for Oliver to address. Are you comfortable trying it, Oliver?”

Oliver hesitated. Laurel had said he should only do something if he felt comfortable, and right now he just wanted Felicity to keep talking all she wanted to the counselor while he listened.

But Felicity was watching him expectantly, which was better than the frustration, anger and sadness he’d been faced with over the last month, so he gave Dr. Thompkins a nod.

“Alright, we’ll start off simple. The first word you think of when I say something. Dog.”

They’d had a dog when he and Thea were younger. It had belonged to their grandmother before she died, and he’d fought with Thea because she had wanted to rename it. He couldn’t remember what the name had been in the first place and wasn’t sure if the dog had died before or after he got on the boat.

“Uhh...nice.”

“Cat.”

Was Felicity a cat or dog person? He’d never heard her give a preference. Maybe she didn’t want animals at all. Better to play it safe.

“Small. Sometimes, I guess.”

“Food.”

“...Necessary?”

“A little quicker, Oliver, if you can,” Dr. Thompkins said, perfectly calm and even. “The idea of the exercise is not to think too much about your responses. Just let your mind naturally make associations.”

He bit back a grumble. This was decidedly out of his comfort zone, but if Laurel could talk to a whole bunch of strangers every week or so, he could do this. He had to be strong enough to change.

“Sky.”

“Blue.”

“Island.”

She really wasn’t pulling the punches, was she? “Cold.”

“Water.”

“Cold.”

“Snow.”

“Skiing.” He hadn’t actually been in so long, it almost surprised him his mind went straight back to Alpine. Planning a lodge with Tommy, Laurel’s room key in his hand. It was an easy memory, a comfortable one.

“Car.”

He hadn’t owned his own car in a while. “Bike.”

“Bar.”

“Exam.”

There was a blink from Dr. Thompkins. She hadn’t expected that answer, and neither had he, as he’d realized the split second after it came out of his mouth she’d meant the place.

She barely skipped a beat, however, continuing with, “School.”

“Difficult.” 

At the other end of the couch, Felicity gave a snort.

“Job.”

“Unemployed.”

“Vacation.”

“Coast.” The old beach house he could still see in his mind's eye when he tried hard enough. 

She was good at mixing it up between serious and innocuous. It was making it impossible to even try to think on his feet. All he could do was just give one answer after another.

“City.”

“Star.” All those nights he’d trained with Thea and Alex to make sure he didn’t habitually add the “—ing” on the end during a speech had it drilled into his head. It was thoughtless, like how he felt now.

“Friends.”

“Team.”

“Family.”

A smile. “Thea.”

“Home.”

“Laurel.”

“I’m sorry, what?”

Felicity’s interruption was so sudden he jumped. He’d almost forgotten he wasn’t alone in this room with Dr. Thompkins, who looked paused in the middle of beginning a new word.

“What?” He asked, still stuck on one word responses apparently.

Felicity was watching him with narrowed eyes. “You said ‘Laurel’.”

He frowned. “When?”

“In response to ‘home’,” Dr. Thompkins told him.

“I did?” But as soon as she’d said it, he knew that was right. He could hear it in his voice now, could feel it hanging in the air.

“Yes.” Felicity’s frown had not gone away and instead seemed to be deepening. “What about Laurel is ‘home’, Oliver?”

“I- it—” He didn’t know how to answer. It wasn’t like he’d meant to say her name, it had just...come out.

“I mean, you could have said anything, you know? Maybe our loft, maybe Ivy Town. Maybe, I don’t know, me? Can you at least try to say something?” Felicity demanded.

He looked from her to Dr. Thompkins, who remained impassive but watching closely. “It was on the island,” he finally said, voice low.

Oliver could remember it clearly now, Laurel’s photo in his hand as he’d spoken to Taiana. “Her name is Laurel Lance. And she was my home before all this.” It had been a long time since he’d allowed himself to consciously recall that memory, those feelings that went along with it.

“You see how he does this?” Felicity was saying to Dr. Thompkins. “Everything is the island, everything always goes back there. And back to Laurel. I guess your crazy ex Helena was actually right about something!”

“Felicity,” Oliver began, but she stood up.

“You know, I told John this was a waste of time. I said we were done, and now I am glad we are. I am not a consolation prize!”

“Felicity, wait!” The door slammed, and Oliver made to follow.

“Oliver.” Dr. Thompkins’ voice made him stop. He looked back at her. “In my professional opinion, it would be best to let her go.”

The fingers of his left hand clenched and unclenched. “You were supposed to help us.”

“And this did. It’s clear to me that there were some serious trust issues and power imbalances in this relationship.” She clasped her hands together on her lap and leaned forward. “You’ve been suppressing how you really feel for some time now, haven’t you? And I’m not talking about this Laurel,” she added before he could even start to protest.

Oliver frowned. “Then what do you mean?”

“I mean that you lack any say in this relationship you’re so desperate to save. You’ve given up your voice in an attempt to please someone else, and that leads to a very empty happiness.” Dr. Thompkins stood as well, though the top of her head barely reached his chin. She didn’t remotely look intimidated. “You can’t depend solely on another person for that.”

He stood there, lost for any kind of response. Oliver wanted to tell her that she was wrong, that he did have a say in what happened between him and Felicity, but...when was the last time he decided anything between the two of them? When he asked her to marry him? He’d wanted to, but it was Donna finding the ring and showing her daughter that had prompted him to do it when he had. When he’d invited Donna over for that dinner? Felicity was apparently still holding a grudge over it.

He’d sometimes wondered how someone as smart and talented as she was could be with him, but did he really not have a voice?

Dr. Thompkins had reached into a pocket and held out a card for him to take. “Think some things over, and when you’re ready to talk, my door is open.”

Oliver hung his head. He hadn’t been ready, and like Laurel had said it hadn’t helped him and Felicity at all. He took the card to be polite and left the ARGUS facility, only to sit on his bike in the lot.

Like Laurel had said. He’d been trying to be a better friend to her ever since Sara had been brought back from the dead. Had he somehow gone so far in the other direction that Felicity now thought he was in love with Laurel?

It wasn’t that he didn’t still care for her. He always would. Was that still a kind of love?

Helena’s words did come back to him from years ago. “That kind of love doesn’t die.” 

A light drizzle was beginning to fall, spattering against the leather of his jacket and wetting his hair. Oliver shook his head and shoved his helmet on, the bike roaring to life. He needed to think, and he had no idea where to start.

---

Thea stretched her arms over her head as she settled onto the couch. It had been pretty calm on the streets the last few nights with Darhk locked away and his ghosts gone to ground.

It had been a good thing tonight especially since they were down two team members instead of just the one who had left the previous week. Thea had asked if anyone had heard from Oliver that day as they’d been suiting up.

“He’s got some personal business,” Laurel had said.

At the same time, John had revealed, “He and Felicity are at couple’s counseling.”

Thea’s eyes had gone wide. “Oliver went to therapy?” The very thought had seemed totally unbelievable. Even now she was having trouble wrapping her head around it.

If it was something he wanted to try, of course she supported him. Oliver just had trouble sharing his feelings at the best of times, so to imagine him opening up in front of a stranger was hard.

Still, if it made him happier, then she was all for it. Thea knew he’d been feeling lost and unsure, ever since having to send William away and losing his relationship all at once. If Felicity had agreed to counseling, maybe things were still salvageable? She’d felt uncomfortable with some of the things Felicity had said to her brother while they’d been working to take down Cupid, but Thea had said things she regretted in the past, too. If they worked through things and came out of it healthier, she could forgive and forget.

They had a bit of time to relax tonight. Rain had begun shortly before dark, and they’d stayed out until it became clear it was turning into a storm and pushing everyone else indoors anyway. Thea had returned to the apartment with Laurel, who had ushered her into the shower so she could warm up. Honestly, her friend was such a big sister.

Laurel had known about the therapy, judging by her reaction to Thea’s question before their patrol. Yet she’d been much more circumspect in her answer than John. Thea wondered if Oliver had asked her to keep things quiet, if he was ashamed. She’d have to make sure he knew there was no reason to be the next time she saw him.

She looked up at the sound of a knock at the door. “Hey, did you call in an order?” Thea called back further into the apartment.

“What?” Laurel’s voice sounded a bit echoey. Right, she was taking her turn in the shower.

Thea got up and went to the door, peering through the peephole. To her surprise, it was Ollie on the other side, dripping wet and miserable.

She quickly opened the door. “Ollie? What happened?”

“Sorry,” he said, voice a bit gruff. His face was wet, and she didn’t know if it was from rain or crying. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

Thea pulled him inside, stripping him of the leather jacket that was clinging to him like a second skin. She guided him to the couch, their knees bumping as she curled up next to him. “What happened?”

He didn’t speak.

“John, um, told me about the counseling session,” Thea admitted quietly. “You know you can tell me anything, right? I’m not going to judge you.”

“I know,” he said, his smile a twist of the mouth. He gave an unhappy sigh. “I’m trying not to judge myself right now.”

“Hey. There’s nothing to judge. Loads of people go to therapy. If it helps you, that’s all that matters.”

“I know. I know, Laurel—” for some reason he gave something of a laugh, and it sounded helpless. “She said the same thing.”

“Okay,” said Thea. “So what’s bothering you? Did...did something happen at the session?”

“You could say that. Um, it didn’t work. Not how- how I wanted it to...I don’t know.” He put his head in his hands for a long moment before looking back up at her again. “Just, can you answer me honestly?” When she nodded, he asked. “Do I not...speak up for myself, when it comes to Felicity?”

Thea was so stunned she sat there for what felt a solid minute in silence. “Ollie, what—”

“Please, just tell me.” Her big brother was practically begging her, so she did her best to set aside her own surprise and questions.

“Well, you, um...you guys just sort of— it’s not like you don’t speak, just, you know, Felicity’s kind of a talker. And you, generally you just agree with her. But did the therapist — did she not think that was a good thing?”

“No. She said I was suppressing things, making myself dependent on just Felicity for my happiness.” He looked to her, clearly waiting for something. Some kind of answer.

“Well…” The more she thought about this therapist’s argument, the more it kind of made sense. Hadn’t she had doubts about where her place was in Oliver’s life after he’d left last spring with Felicity? When he hadn’t kept in touch while they were vacationing in Bali? Hadn’t she nearly told Laurel to go to Ivy Town without her, convinced there was little she could do to get her brother to come home?

It wasn’t like they didn’t still spend time together now that he’d come back, but there was a difference to him when he was just with her or her and Laurel and then when it was them and Felicity, a difference she’d been having trouble identifying. It was like no one else really existed in the room when Felicity was there, like everything else came secondary to making sure she was happy.

“How did Felicity take hearing all of that?” It wasn’t like the therapist had come out and said Felicity had done anything wrong, but Thea couldn’t imagine Felicity had expected to hear anything other than Oliver’s failures in the relationship.

He shook his head. “She wasn’t even there for that part. She left.”

“How come?”

“Because of something I said. I- I mentioned Laurel.”

Thea blinked, feeling caught off guard yet again. “What about Laurel?” And why would Felicity have been upset enough to storm out over it?

His head fell back against the couch and his eyes were shut as he replied, “I called her home.”

“Um.”

“It was this word-thing she was having me do. Making free associations between ideas or something. And I guess I should’ve said Star, but I’d already said Star, and in my head she’s just — she’s always been here.” He cracked an eye open to look at her. “You know?”

Thea nodded. She placed a hand on his arm. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Laurel had always been there. Hadn’t Thea argued the same thing to him when Adam had wanted Oliver to distance himself from her? If Thea thought about it, she would probably call Laurel home, too. She’d moved in with the woman, for crying out loud.

But Laurel was like her sister. She was decidedly not Ollie’s sister. And Thea could maybe see why Felicity might be upset that her ex-fiancé considered another woman home.

The thing was...what did it mean that Ollie still considered Laurel home?

A door opened down the hall and soft footsteps padded in their direction. “Thea, what were you asking me — Ollie.”

Thea looked over to see Laurel standing there in pajamas, a towel wrapped around her head. She took it down, and her hair fell loosely around her shoulders.

“What happened?”

Thea watched her brother swallow once and struggle to speak. She reached down and squeezed his hand.

“The counseling didn’t go so great,” she told Laurel.

“I’m so sorry, Oliver.” Laurel took a few more steps closer. “Have you eaten anything?”

He shook his head.

“Think he just went out for a drive in the rain,” said Thea.

“Well, then we should get you some food. Maybe tea so you don’t catch a cold.”

Laurel started to back up towards the kitchen, but Oliver stood. “No, that’s okay. I should let you both get to sleep.”

“We’re not really tired,” Thea remarked. “We’re used to later nights than this.”

“It’s no trouble. Thea and I haven’t eaten yet, either,” Laurel added. “I’ll just have to see what we have to make.”

“Maybe I should,” Oliver said quickly, the same time that Thea made to stand up. Laurel looked back at them both, her arms crossed. Thea met her brother’s eye and thought she saw a smile not quite form. She bit back her own grin.

“If you insist. But Ollie,” Laurel said as he joined her by the kitchen archway. “We’re always going to be there for you whether you want to talk about it or not.” Then she pulled Thea’s brother into a hug.

Thea watched the split second where he tensed, no doubt unsure of himself and where the boundaries stood. A second later he had melted into it, his cheek resting on top of her head and one hand cradling the back of it. From the little Thea could see of Laurel’s face, her friend was smiling softly. She felt a great wave of homesickness hit her in that moment as she watched, something calling back through the years to her and making her eyes sting.

They were both slow to step back, hands trailing down arms rather than immediately letting go. Oliver looked down at his shoes while Laurel looked away, her eyes catching Thea’s. Thea watched her take in a little breath and seem to shake something off.

“So Ollie,” Laurel said, her tone taking on a teasing tone that if she thought about it, Thea rarely heard her use with anyone else. “What are you making for us?”

Her brother looked far calmer and centered than when he had arrived. He even managed his best attempt at a smile. “Let’s have a look.” He brushed a hand over her arm as he passed her on his way into the kitchen.

They offered him a place on the couch that night, but he declined. He was given leftovers instead, which they managed to make him take since “Geez, Ollie, it’s your food, anyway.”

Thea followed him out into the hall after giving Laurel the signal that she’d be a minute. “Hey.”

Oliver stopped and looked back. “Yeah?”

“I just wanted to make sure you’re doing better. You know…”

He nodded. But she could tell by the relaxed set of his shoulders and the lack of frown lines that he really was doing better than when he had shown up.

“We didn’t really finish talking, but, um...if I were you, I would think about seeing this therapist some more. Get some help, you know, figuring your thoughts out. If she’s available, anyway.”

“She gave me her card.”

Thea nodded. “Good.” Then she walked forward and hugged him as well. “Laurel’s right, though, we’re here for you, too.”

“Thank you. I’m not sure if she knew...” Whatever Oliver was thinking, he decided to keep to himself, holding her a little tighter instead for a few moments.

They both let go, and her brother continued down the hall to the elevator. Thea waited until the door slid shut before heading back inside. Laurel was still in the kitchen finishing washing up their dishes.

“I think he’ll be okay,” Thea told her. “We just gotta give it time.”

“Did he say if he and Felicity are going to try anything else?”

Thea shook her head. “Pretty safe bet they aren’t trying anything anymore.”

Laurel winced. “Well, it was worth the try.”

“Yeah, I think so.” The more that she thought about it, she was glad her brother had gotten a fresh perspective from this therapist. It had certainly opened her eyes to what had been going on the past several months. Should she have said something, done something? She’d thought her misgivings were just her being selfish, not some kind of red flag.

Things would eventually settle, and when they did who knew what was in store next for Ollie? Was there something still to his and Laurel’s relationship? As Thea climbed into bed, she wondered if it might turn out their mother had been right all along.

---

Laurel wasn’t quite sure what to make of the change in Oliver over the next few days. Aside from when he’d first shown up that night after the counseling session, he seemed calmer somehow. More assured than he had been.

She was certain he still had to be feeling some hurt over the breakup. It was a different kind of pain than his usual cuts and bruises, the kind that took longer to heal. The kind that, in some cases, left permanent scars.

But for the most part he had gotten right back into the swing of things, leading the team effectively, training with them. He’d even started to make it a habit to eat his lunches with Thea, a fact that Laurel knew was making her young friend very happy.

About the only one in their group who didn’t seem to like what had resulted from the counseling session was John, which had a certain irony to it since it had been his suggestion. Laurel knew he’d been hoping it would prove a quick fix to Oliver and Felicity’s relationship problems, but life rarely had quick fixes.

Though, lately it felt less like Oliver was working on his relationship with Felicity, and more on his relationship with her. Crazy as that sounded.

It was little things at first, things that over time she started to notice. He was making more time for all of them, of course, but he seemed especially to always be available for training when she was. And he was better at expressing how she might improve or what she was already good at.

They were working together to clean the training area one afternoon, and she could see him shifting from foot to foot, weighing something in his mind. Just as she opened her mouth to ask, he said, “You know, I never thanked you. For how you — everything with William. How you handled it.”

Laurel felt both her eyebrows raise. William wasn’t necessarily a taboo topic, but Oliver rarely brought up his son since having to send him away, and especially not to her.

“I know it couldn’t have been easy, and you had every right to — well, to not want to be involved.”

“Oliver, there was a child in danger. Of course I was going to get involved, whether William was yours or someone else’s. Whatever happened in the past, he had nothing to do with.”

“Right.” He nodded. She thought that might be the end of it, until he set aside the disinfectant bottle and any pretense of getting work done. “I just, I feel like I don’t say enough that I’m lucky to have you in my life. After everything. I want you to know I appreciate that.”

“Ollie…” Laurel couldn’t quite meet his eyes. “It’s really fine. I’m glad William’s safe, and I understand that you couldn’t say anything about him to us for a long time. Don’t feel like you have to check up on me.”

“No, but I want to. I, uh, I went back to see Leslie.”

“Leslie? The therapist,” she realized a second later.

“Yeah. She thinks I have issues communicating with people. Especially people I care about.”

Laurel couldn’t quite stop herself wryly remarking, “Really?”

Thankfully, he just shook his head with a smirk. “Yes. And I think, with you and me, we’ve known each other for so long and understand things about each other, we leave a lot unsaid.”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“I want to work on not doing that. So this is me, telling you that you are important to me, and that I will always try to listen to what you have to say or how you’re feeling.” He paused. “If that’s what you want.”

As surprised as she was by this turn, Laurel already knew her answer. “Of course. Ollie, we’re always going to be in each other’s lives, and if we can help each other at all, then I want that, too.” Even if there were some things she would never say or feelings she would never reveal, the knowledge that Oliver wanted to try more at their friendship warmed her from head to toe.

Impulsively, she reached out to cup his cheek. “I know you’ve been trying to do things a better way ever since you came back to Star, and I think this is really helping you find that way. And I’m so happy I get to be part of that.” She felt the curve of his smile under her palm as well as saw it. “Now come on, Thea and John are going to want to use the mats to warmup before we head out.”

They finished cleaning up in companionable silence.

Truthfully, she hadn’t expected him to return to therapy after his initial experience. Part of her was intensely curious about how it was going now, in the absence of the couple’s framework. But Oliver had always respected her privacy about what she discussed at her AA meetings, so she wasn’t about to disrespect his. If he wanted to tell her more about it, he could. If he didn’t, that was fine, too.

She’d extended an offer via text for Felicity if she wanted to talk. Laurel knew her friend had to be feeling a bit isolated since leaving the team. She wondered if Felicity had made any work friends aside from Curtis; her relationship to the board members seemed tense at best. At the least, Laurel knew Donna was still sticking around since she was dating her father.

But Felicity never replied, which was out of the ordinary for her tech-savvy friend. Maybe she felt they’d all chosen Oliver’s side, even if Laurel was doing her best to stay neutral on the matter. It wasn’t as though she believed Oliver was totally blameless for the things that had gone wrong, but in most breakups there were mistakes made by both parties. She could understand that right now, however, Felicity likely felt wronged. Guessing was all she could do for the moment.

Until one night when she and John were out for another round of surveillance. In the absence of the Ghosts, organized crime was reaching out tentative feelers back into the city, and they wanted to learn their patterns before hitting them. She was happy to find John had packed a couple light snacks in the glove compartment this time.

But even snacking couldn’t distract her from the way her friend kept glancing at her out of the corner of his eye, guarded and tense in a way he hadn’t been for a long while.

Laurel sighed. “John, can you just say whatever it is you’re thinking about?”

“Not sure you wanna know.”

“If it’s bothering you, then yes, I do want to know.”

She wasn’t sure what decided it for him. But eventually, John shifted around in his seat to better face her. Laurel copied him.

“Alright, I’m gonna tell you this so you can get out ahead of it, but I got Felicity to talk to me about the counseling session.”

She nodded.

John hesitated another minute. She thought he might be trying to figure out how to put whatever he wanted to say. “She says Oliver’s still in love with you.”

Laurel felt her mouth drop open.

“I know,” said John as her mind continued to draw a blank.

“Did he say that? I mean, what—” She couldn’t even start to contemplate the idea of Oliver making that kind of brazen declaration.

“Not in so many words. If you ask me, she’s blowing things out of proportion because she’s upset. She wants reasons not to get back with him.”

“So he’s not. In love with me,” Laurel added.

John shrugged his shoulders. “Who knows what’s going through his head anymore? I don’t even know why he went back to that ARGUS therapist after she screwed everything up.”

“He seems to find it helpful.”

“Yeah, well, we’re the ones who are gonna have to help him out. Look, I think we can fix all this if you just go talk to Felicity.”

“Me?”

“Yeah. Tell her you and Oliver are friends and nothing more. You’re not in love with him, so it’s all in the past. She’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Nothing,” Laurel repeated, her voice faint to her ears.

“Right. So how soon can you do that?”

But Laurel couldn’t answer. An old memory had risen up in her mind; her and Oliver in a hospital hallway, her younger self begging him to help her fix her failing relationship, only to be stunned by his refusal.

“Because it wouldn’t be true. And I have enough lies in my life already.”

She was in that moment now, again, only she was in his place with his words setting deep into her bones.

A light of understanding came into John’s eyes. “Oh, Laurel.”

She looked away, wishing the mob guys they were staking out would make their move already. They didn’t.

“You really still—”

“It doesn’t matter. What I still feel doesn’t matter. It’s about what Oliver and Felicity feel.” She looked back over her shoulder at him. “And I’m saying this as objectively as I can, but John, if Felicity is looking for reasons not to get back together with Oliver, then we all just have to accept that. Forcing things won’t do it any good.”

He watched her closely as he said, “So you want them to stay broken up.”

“I’m not saying they can’t find each other again, just right now is not the right time. I want them to be happy, whether that’s together or apart.”

“And what about you, Laurel?” John asked. “When do you get to be happy?”

“I...that’s not what this is about. I’m fine with my life how it is.”

John shook his head and stared out the window. “This is a mess. So you won’t go talk to Felicity?”

“It wouldn’t do any good. It shouldn’t be me, it should be Oliver.”

John sighed. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.” Something in his frown told Laurel he didn’t think it would happen.

But why not? Until the counseling session, Oliver had been near inconsolable about his relationship ending. He’d been willing to do anything to save it. Why not this?

They didn’t pick up much useful information on their stakeout and returned to the base. Laurel let John deliver the information and did her best to hurry Thea along to head home. She wasn’t sure what to think about where she and Oliver stood at the moment.

He’d said he wanted to prioritize their friendship. That didn’t have to mean anything, but what if it did? Should she say something? Risk it all, risk ruining everything?

She was still worrying over it as she left work the next day, heading down to the base out of habit to start her training. She took two steps out of the elevator and stopped when Oliver looked up at her.

“Hey,” he said.

“Hey. Did Thea not come back down here with you?”

He shook his head. “She’s with Alex. They’re grabbing an early dinner and she’ll join us before patrol.”

“Okay.” And John was probably watching baby Sara until Lyla got home for the night, so that left the two of them here in the base alone. For who knew how long.

Laurel turned and made for the changing area. She got into her workout clothes and found Oliver waiting on the mats when she came out. There was something electric to the air, something she hadn’t allowed herself to acknowledge for a long time. Her chest felt tight.

He tossed her a set of sticks and they began. She was distracted, making simple mistakes she hadn’t made in over a year, and he soon had one stick under her chin and the other at her back, caging her in.

When she met his eyes, there was something sad there. “Felicity told you, didn’t she?”

The breath rushed out of her. Laurel lowered her sticks and he did the same. Neither backed away.

“It was John, actually. How...how did you know?”

“Because I know you,” he said.

She wet her bottom lip with her tongue, weighing in her mind whether to ask. “Were you going to tell me yourself?”

He drew in and let out a breath. “John said I was in love with you?” Laurel nodded, a little confused he’d phrased it in a question. “The truth is I’m not sure exactly what my feelings are.”

She took a step back, eyes landing on her shoes. “Oh.” It was better, then, that she had asked rather than say anything more telling.

“When Felicity and I first went to see Leslie, she had me do a word association test. Have you heard of those?”

Laurel nodded. “Yeah. It’s where they give you a word and you say the first thing that comes to mind.”

“Right. So I did it, and it was not easy at first,” he admitted. Laurel pressed her lips together to keep from smiling as she could clearly imagine. “But I kept trying, and eventually I guess we got into a rhythm. She picked a lot of different words, some easier than others. The last word she picked was ‘home’...and I said you, Laurel.”

“Me?” It was all she could say. Laurel wasn’t sure she could say any more without giving away how much that meant — so much more than some three little words.

Oliver nodded. “You’ve always been that to me.”

Laurel tried to keep calm. Even if Oliver felt that way, he’d made a distinction between that and being in love. She needed to know more, and he seemed to want to tell her. “So that was when Felicity left?”

“Yes. Not before mentioning Helena for the fiftieth time,” he told her, a heavy dose of chagrin in his voice.

“Helena?”

“Yeah, well she — I never told you this, did I?” He shook his head. “The reason we broke up was because she could tell I wasn’t over you.”

“And that’s what Felicity thinks now?”

“It’s what she said. The thing is, I know I’ve done this before. Something happens, and I come to you and...and then I leave after,” he said rather than finish his thought. “And I don’t want to do that again, so I’m getting help. To figure out how I feel and to figure out what always makes me so afraid of that feeling.”

Laurel’s eyes felt wet, so she steeled herself. It wasn’t as if she hadn’t known Oliver was getting help. But to know that he wanted to try and change even more than he had done on his own, it was hard trying to hold back her own happiness for him.

“That being said, whatever my feelings are, whatever I learn about myself, you don’t have to worry that that means anything’s expected of you. I know that’s something in the past, that we can’t go back.”

It was like someone had upended an ice bucket over her head. “What?”

Lines appeared in his brow as he looked at her. “You said, we couldn’t—”

“Oh, Ollie.” Laurel pressed a hand to her forehead, wondering how they’d somehow come to this. After all these years. “When I said that, I was...well, I probably needed help, too. I was pushing people away because I didn’t want to wait for them to leave.” She glanced back up, teetering on the edge of whether to take this next step. “Can I show you something?”

He nodded, and she led him off the mats and over to the cases holding their suits. Laurel opened hers and unfastened one of the pockets on her belt. She turned around, the old photo in hand, and watched his eyes widen in shock and recognition.

He reached for it slowly, like in a dream. “You kept this?”

She nodded. “As a reminder, for when I might have doubt.”

He looked up at her, clearly understanding what she meant. He’d written the words after all: Never doubt my love for you.

His lips pressed together for a long moment. Laurel waited, her breath held. This was her best-kept secret, and now he knew it all.

“I’ve wasted so much time,” he said at last, his voice cracking.

“We both have.” Laurel reaches out and covered one of his hands with her own. “But there’s still time. Time to get better, to figure out what’s really going to make us happy.”

He met her eyes, the light she knew was in him shining through. A smile slowly grew. “I think you’re right.”

Oliver leaned in, his lips brushing her cheek as his hand touched her arm. It was a gesture so familiar to her. She let out a shaky breath.

“There’s something I’d like to try doing with you,” he told her.

Laurel opened her eyes and looked at him. They’d both grown and changed so much over the years, but she still knew this man better than she knew herself sometimes. He was nervous, a little hopeful, and so, so happy.

“I’m listening.”

---

Leslie flipped to a fresh page in her notes in preparation for a new session. The notebooks she kept on her sessions with patients were for her eyes only and kept under lock and key whenever she wasn’t in her office. Not even the director of ARGUS was allowed to look at them, which had always been a matter of fierce contention between her and Amanda Waller.

It hadn’t always been her goal to counsel the members of this oftentimes controversial organization. She’d started out as a private practitioner, then moved to running a soup kitchen in the Glades. Almost ten years ago now, the kitchen had been forced to close as their rent had kept rising far beyond their means — by design, she’d later learned. Malcolm Merlyn, their true landlord behind a smokescreen of shell companies, had wanted the space empty for his grand Undertaking. It was such a shame, what a monster he became after the loss of Rebecca; Leslie had partnered often with her health clinic in the old days. If she could have seen what her husband had done in her honor…

But Leslie had been at loose ends after the kitchen closed, and that was usually when Amanda Waller tended to show up. She’d been brought on board to patch up the head cases, as it was put to her. Instead, she’d found herself the sole confidant to many lost and lonely people. It was hard sometimes, hearing the hopelessness in their voices and how they believed they were beyond saving.

She’d not been expecting that to come from Oliver Queen, former mayor candidate and famous son of the newly-christened Star City. Even knowing the little she did about his ARGUS ties. But that was who had walked through her door a few weeks ago for a partner counseling session with his ex-fiancée.

Right away, she’d been able to read the tension coming off both of them, and the opening remarks from Felicity Smoak had been antagonistic rather than open towards reconciliation. She had not been there by choice, and that had meant Leslie’s job was going to be all the harder.

From there had followed the clear trust issues, the miscommunication and the lack of personal autonomy Oliver seemed to have. Leslie doubted it was anything Felicity had done in particular to cause that dynamic. Relationships involving one of more trauma survivors required a level of mindfulness many people didn’t realize to avoid negative feedback loops for both parties. But an unwillingness to accept that first premise made addressing the other issues impossible. It was why she had recommended letting things end between the pair.

She had left a message for Felicity if she wished to speak in a one-on-one setting, the same offer she’d made Oliver the day of the session. Though Felicity had yet to respond, Oliver had taken a day to decide before getting back to her. They had scheduled a session for later in the week and continued from their.

It was remarkable the difference that could be made in a person over a short time just by giving them an outlet to express themselves freely. Leslie held no illusions that Oliver was ‘better’ now and had cautioned him not to assume the same — there was no quick fix to recovery. Everyone went at their own pace and their own path. But likewise, trauma symptoms did not preclude a person from happiness.

She’d encouraged him to make time for the people in his life he felt happiest with and to pursue hobbies or other areas of interest. Last session, he’d shown her some sketches for new arrow designs, something he admitted he’d been allowing Felicity to do in his stead over the last year.

“I knew she was good with technology and knowing the terms for everything. When we came back, she already had the first shipment designed and on its way.” He shrugged. “Maybe mine won’t be as good, but it’s- it helps knowing exactly what I’m relying on in the field. And it reminds me a little of working on the old boats and engines with my father.”

It was always interesting hearing about the Green Arrow’s exploits the next morning on the news now that she was on a first name basis with the vigilante, but Leslie considered that just another part of the job.

Today’s session would likely prove to be an interesting one. Oliver had asked to bring another person with him for partner counseling.

“I asked her if she was okay with that a couple weeks ago, but I think now is a good time,” he’d said. “We’re not — I mean, there’s nothing official about us or anything. But she’s important to me and I think we could benefit from your advice.”

“Partner counseling isn’t limited to romantic partners. If this is something both of you have agreed to, you’re more than welcome to bring another person. This is your time, Oliver. Whatever helps you is what we’re here for.”

Leslie looked up at the sound of footsteps and soft voices approaching her door, drawing her out of her reflections.

“In here?” A woman’s voice asked.

“Uh, yeah.” Oliver that time. He pulled the door open the whole way, holding it for a woman with blonde hair dressed smartly in business professional attire. Which made perfect sense considering she was their city’s ADA.

Laurel Lance smiled in thanks over her shoulder at Oliver before fully entering the room and holding her hand out to Leslie when she stood. “Dr. Thompkins, it’s great to meet you.”

“You as well. Please, feel free to call me Leslie.”

She motioned them over to the couch that hadn’t been used since that first counseling session — she and Oliver usually sat in the chairs on either side of her desk.

The pair sat close, not enough to be touching but clearly feeling comfortable sharing personal space. Oliver looked mostly calm but had a bit of a nervous twitch in one of his hands. Laurel reached out and took it in her own. They shared a look and a smile.

“Just give me one moment to get all my papers together,” Leslie called over, hiding a smile of her own as she did so.

Yes, this she could work with.

[cellard0ors]

Top Five LEAST Favorite Episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime

I noticed by post, Top Ten Favorite Episodes of Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime, was getting some traction...

...so I thought, why not be all controversial and do the reverse?! 

Again, this is just my opinion on episodes and it’s not intended as negativity, so much as a look at episodes that I wasn’t enchanted with. Also, this is not to say they are poorly made or that the boys did a bad job - they just weren’t my particular cup of tea, and hey, they’ve done so well I could only find 5 I’m not that into...

As Shane says, we’re allowed to disagree.

That being said (*wheeze*) I present, in no particular order - my top five LEAST fave eps (thus far) of Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime!

The Scandalous Murder of William Desmond Taylor

This episode actually had a lot of funny parts and it wouldn’t have been bad...save for the acting bits. Here’s the thing - sometimes the acting bits work, like in the Gardner Heist, sometimes they don’t - like in this. 

In this, it felt like there were a bit too many of them and it sort of took me out of the story. Made it feel a little too Unsolved Mysteries for me, and one of the things I like the most about the show is how it’s a more modern, updated version of that show.

Hence why this one is on the list, despite the great commentary (ie, Shane’s sex sounds and Ryan reading that ridiculous letter. IloveoyuIloveIloveyou...)

Enigmatic Death Of The Isdal Woman

For the record, it’s my understanding Sara played some part in this - which is friggin’ awesome. However, I wish it had been for a more interesting case. It’s not that this case DIDN’T have intrigue, it’s just that it seemed very cut and dried to me - she’s a spy. The end.

I know they never confirmed that - and between that and her death - it is all very unsolved. But it didn’t feel that way to me and, maybe, because we didn’t know a lot about the woman - I couldn’t feel much connection to her and thus wasn’t as interested in her story - harsh, mean - but true.

Suspicious Case of The Reykjavki Confessions

Let me start this one by saying - UNDERLINED - that this is more my personal opinion than anything else and - honestly - from here, all the episodes I talk about will be very much in that vein...

THAT BEING SAID - While I enjoyed the psychology found within this story interesting, I wasn’t a huge fan of how much Shane was - again, my opinion - sort of bragging about his trip and how great Iceland is.

Like, I’m glad you enjoyed your vacation, but it just came across kind of pompous to me. Again, I’m sure not his intent, just how I took it. I found myself sort of eye rolling upon occasion and thus having a hard time focusing on the story.

Also, the story is just sort of not intriguing to me. The psychology, yes - the actual unsolved crimes? No.

Creepy Murder in Room 1046

I actually REALLY like this episode save one thing - it gave birth to the Ricky Goldsworth phenomena. I both do and do not like Ricky Goldsworth. Why? Because this is when rabid fandom comes into play.

It’s a funny bit - but when pushed too far, it becomes really not funny really fast. I was in DC at one of their Crime Talks and the way people went on and on about Ricky...

...I felt a level of secondhand embarrassment I have not felt since the Supernatural fandom (looks at Destiel ppl) Here’s the thing - you can like something. Love it even. But don’t be PUSHY.

Don’t ask creators to dance like a monkey for you. Be respectful. You’ve got to know, internally, when something might get tiresome for them. To be asked the same thing over and over and over again...

It’s like when you work in retail and something doesn’t have a tag and someone’s all, ‘I guess it’s free?!?’. No. No it is not, good sir, and you know that. You’re better than that. You know that sort of thing has been said before and that we’re all side-eyeing you for asking in that stupid jokey voice.

Same ground to me - the idea of Ricky? Not so bad. The people practically beating others over the head about it? Not good.

Treacherous Treasure Hunt of Forrest Fenn

Let’s get a few things out of the way first - LOVE the Indiana Jones jacket. LOVE the montage.

The rest?

I think it was mostly the bit where they ‘found’ the treasure and had the shades and the car. I get the joke. But it wasn’t funny to me. At all. Granted, this is allllllllllll personal taste. Lots of people thought it was hilarious. I thought it was just sort of jack-assery which, again, was probably the joke/idea, but it just turned me off.

It was example of - as much as I love the show - it’s grown up a lot from the old days of them just sitting in the room discussing the case and I frankly kind of miss that. To me, the simplest approach is sometimes the best. So that’s probably why I take issue with it.

IN CONCLUSION

Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crimes makes some FANTASTIC episodes. I had to struggle to find ones I’m not big on or barely watch. That’s why this list is so small. I was going to go for ten like the other list, but couldn’t even get that high.

I apologize if any of this came across as preachy or too salty for you all. It was merely an experiment in opinions and airing out thoughts. I’ll always love the show and the boys, but there’s always room for improvement.

To close out with something uplifting...

[raging-violets]

Fictober 2019 // Day 20 + 21 // By: Rhuben

Prompt Number: #20, “You could talk about it, you know?”, #21, “Change is annoyingly difficult.” Fandom: The Flash (DC TV) Rating: E Warning: None A/N: This will kind of, sort of, be a series based on the friendship around Eddie Thawne and my OC, Averey Moore. If I like some parts enough, I might even re-work them into my fics. 

Fingers pressed into her temples, Averey stared down at the wide stretch of books, pamphlets, and sheets of paper littered with hi-lighters, pens, and pencils. She used to think that being an ocular metahuman – every blink was like a snapshot, making her able to remember everything and recall it perfectly – would help her in terms of schooling and studying.

But that didn't mean she would always understand what it was that she was reading. And there was such a thing as too much information, which she was currently feeling as her brain was sure to explode at any second.

"How's the studying going?" Eddie set down a plate of chocolate chip cookies over top the notebook filled with quick, slanted writing. Averey let out a mirthless laugh through her nose as he sat down on the couch beside her in her family home. "Sounds good to me."

For a minute, it didn't seem like she was going to answer, just continue to stare at her work in font of her. Then Eddie watched as she slowly turned her head towards him, the dull look on her face never changing. It was almost scary. And he had tracked down and faced off against scarily strong drug users.

"I've been tortured by psychopaths posing as doctors at hospital," she said to him, voice cracking slightly from lack of use, "faced off against metas that think they're owed more than they are, had a sociopath that's come back from the future to play us like bloody puppets, took down a speedster with a superiority complex, and saw how Barry would be if he actually allowed himself to be angry for once in his life." She jabbed the table with her finger before settling back into the corner of the couch. "Compared to that, this I can handle, hey."

Eddie lifted his eyebrows. He silently regarded her, resting his arm on top of the couch. "It's law school," he said and Averey rolled her eyes, "Yeah, yeah, I know you know what you're currently studying for. But, it's hard." He leaned forward, gently tapping her foot with his hand. "You could talk about it, you know?"

"I don't even have time to take a bite of this bikkie," Averey said, angling her head towards the plate of cookies. Still, she grabbed the plate and cradled it against her chest. She closed her eyes, sighing in gratitude as took a bite of the top cookie. "Ohhhh, and it's soft."

"I just have to make sure the kitchen is all clean before your parents get back," Eddie said. "If there was ever a time I wished I was a speedster."

"Yeah," Averey chuckled, "you'd wish you were one if you got on my nerves enough." She took another bite of the cookie in her hand, using her other hand to free her dark hair from the space between her shoulder blades and the couch. She propped her feet up on the side of the cluttered coffee table. "There's a reason I don't let Barry, Cisco, or Caitlin anywhere near me when I'm studying, yeah. I don't need a reminder that they're so smart."

"So, why am I special?"

"Commiserating with my stupidity." Averey had said it so flatly that Eddie started laughing. She shook her head back and forth. "I must actually be out of my damn mind to think I can do this."

"I can promise you, you're not the only one currently thinking this," Eddie said. "Not just with law school." He pulled his feet up onto the couch cushion. "Took me ages to fully wrap my mind around committing to the Police Academy. It's a big step. It's a big change."

"Change is bloody annoyingly difficult," Averey said, her upper lip curling just slightly.

"News flash," Eddie said, "change never gets easier. I'm telling you right now, this is one of the best decisions you've made."

"Reckon I haven't had a lot of those."

Eddie shrugged. "Getting arrested in my city was one," he said with a smile. "You may have been just another person I was arresting at the time, but now you're one of my best friends." His lips twitched. "If not my only best friend."

"So then you'd still be my best mate if I ate all of these myself?" Averey asked.

"Feel free," Eddie said with a laugh, putting his hands into the air before placing them on his stomach. "I understand eating when stressed." He twisted his mouth to the side. "Can I at least have one?"

[tessatechaitea]

Teen Titans Spotlight #14: Nightwing

So that's why I finally dropped this series: they dropped the "on:".

You might have forgotten that the biggest gang in Gotham in 1987 were the Jewish Surrealists.

I don't even care how many people don't know what the fuck I'm on about. Did you know this world is on fire? Batman is busting a cocaine shipment into Gotham in the prologue of this comic book. According to the cover, he's about to be crucified. I guess the Jewish Surrealists are still micro-managed by Caesar's Hand. Speaking of unbelievable things in comics (this segue works because I believe I was speaking about it fifteen hundred commentaries ago when Nightwing drove a motorcycle up the wall of a building), how does Batman always wind up unconscious and in some form of complicated trap and yet, in all the time it takes to put him there, nobody ever takes the mask off. Not one henchman is curious? Not one henchman binding Batman to the cross ever thinks, "If I knew Batman's identity, I could quit this henchman gig, sell the information, and retire"? I don't believe it. My theory is that thousands of henchmen have tried this plan but Alfred intercepted all of the blackmail notices, hired Jason Bard to find who sent them, and then hired Tommy Monaghan to kill them. I would just like it on the record that I spelled Tommy's last name correctly before looking it up. The Jewish Surrealists capture Batman because they had a sniper with a tranquilizer gun on overwatch during the deal. Batman gets drugged, blackjacked, and spit upon before nobody thinks to take off his mask.

At least I hope that's spit.

I guess if that isn't spit, I now understand why nobody took his mask off.

"Are ya kiddin' me, Rudy?! Put yer fuckin' dick away and help me schlep this bastard into tha van! The boss can take tha fuckin' mask off. Ugh."

Alfred calls up Dick Grayson when Bruce doesn't show up for morning stitches. Dick sighs, hangs up the phone, and goes off to do a literally thankless job because Batman thinks expecting people to be there for him is the same thing as gratitude. I hate complaining about the art because I never complain about the art. So when I finally complain about the art, that means I really fucking think the art sucks. And, well, I'm complaining about the art now.

"Fuck dinosaur references! I got this!" -- Stan Woch

This is some of Woch's earliest work with DC so I shouldn't be too hard on him. Plus he's still alive and he might read this. Although wouldn't it be worse if I were criticizing the work of a dead man? Also, he draws a pretty decent studio apartment and jizz dribble. Nightwing heads off to save Batman even though he knows Batman doesn't need saving. If Batman seems to need saving, it's only because Batman misses Nightwing and this is the only way he can see him without admitting that he misses him. "Oh no!" says Batman as he tries to remember what it's like to feel sleepy from tranquilizers or to feel concussed from a blackjack to the back of the head. "My legs are all, um, wobbly? I'm, um, falling now, right? OH! I'm helpless! I just peed a little too!" Then he lets the bad guys kidnap him and waits for Alfred to worry way too soon and call for backup. And of course Batman would choose a night when Jason Todd is off in California and Superman is off on Oa and Wonder Woman has her anniversary dinner with Steve Trevor.

Oh, just because he's suddenly half-robot, I'm supposed to believe some high school football star can now design high tech contact lenses?! Fuck you, comic books.

Dick finds a vial of acid left behind as Batman as a clue to who murdered him. I mean kidnapped him, probably! Who would kill Batman when they had the chance? I mean if they actually had a chance and Batman wasn't completely faking and ready to start breaking kneecaps the second somebody tugs at his cowl or tries to put a bullet in his brain. Anyway, the acid vial reminds Dick of that one case which was the only one ever in which Batman used a vial of acid which leads him to Drakkar, a Gotham drug lord. This is less evidence that Batman was in trouble and realized Nightwing would come looking for him and more evidence that Batman wasn't in trouble at all and was expecting Nightwing to come looking for him because Batman misses him.

With all the Batman themed stuff in this picture, that marquee obviously says Debbie Does Batman.

Nightwing threatens to beat up some cowardly punk named Skates who Batman apparently beats up every time he needs information. And even though Skates always gives up the information, he somehow hasn't been killed by any other Gotham criminal. Skates tells Nightwing that Batman is going to be killed at midnight in the graveyard. It's going to be a huge party. But instead of thinking, "I'll go to the graveyard and stop this!", Dick wastes precious time tailing Skates hoping he'll lead him to Batman or Drakkar. When Nightwing loses him due to Nightwing's fandom crowding around him, Nightwing thinks, "Wait. What did Skates say? Oh yeah! He gave me everything I needed to know! But now it's so close to midnight, I might not make it in time! Shoot!" Drakkar's plan is to auction off the right to unmask Batman and put a bullet in his brain. So, you know, almost the plan I proposed when they first knocked him unconscious! Stupid greedy thugs! Now Drakkar won't be rid of Batman or rich because Nightwing has found him! And he saves Batman in the nick of time! Time for hugs and demonstrations of familial love and intimacy!

Oh Batman!

Nightwing should know Batman cares because he didn't disappear the instant Nightwing looked away. Batman does smile at the end but not until Dick leaves. Only the reader gets to know Batman is capable of the tiniest bit of joy! And that joy probably wasn't due to Nightwing telling Batman that he's proud to have been Robin. The joy was probably in getting away with not thanking somebody for saving him yet again. Teen Titans Spotlight #14: Nightwing Rating: C+. If I had written this issue, it would have been from Batman's point of view. And all along the way, Batman would be thinking things like, "I'll drop this acid vial which will remind Dick of the Great Dragon caper which will lead him to Drakkar and the subway graveyard where I'm certain Drakkar will take me to kill me!" Then Batman will think, "I bet Dick and Alfred are brainstorming how to find me right now!" And later, as the gun is being put to Batman's head, he'd be all, "The lights should go out just about now! Dick will save me in the nick of time which I'll totally razz him over. Should I say, 'Cutting it pretty close, Boy Wonder' or 'Jason would have been here five minutes sooner'?" Then the final panel of Batman's life will be a bullet passing through his head as he's unmasked. The final page would show Dick Grayson sitting in his apartment listening to Cat's in the Cradle with the phone off the hook.

[sassycassie-s-writing]

Something’s Up With Batman, Version 2

By: SassyShoulderAngel319

Fandom/Character(s): DC, BatFam - Dick Grayson/Batman feat. Damian Wayne/Robin

Rating: PG-13 (for blood)

Original Idea: I don’t know. Just came up with it.

Notes: (Masterlist)(By Character)(About Me) This is Version 2, which is WAAAY longer than Version 1. They start off the same, but around the discussion about Superman, they change dramatically! I like this version better, personally, because drama! @batboys-and-other-messes Promised you I’d tag you!

^^^^^

“Hey!” Dick greeted brightly the second I opened the door.

“Morning Dick! To what do I owe the pleasure?” I asked with a grin.

“What, can a guy not come visit a friend because he feels like it and wants to make sure she’s okay?” he teased. I grabbed him by the chest of his T-shirt and yanked him in to my apartment.

“Get in here you big dork and gimme a hug,” I snapped playfully. He laughed and wrapped his strong arms around me.

“Good to see you, kiddo,” he said.

“How much younger than you do you think I am?” I demanded with a smile.

“Oh gosh. Did I call you ‘kiddo’ again?” he complained. “Aw man. That’s what I call my brothers.”

“Glad I feel like a brother to you,” I teased. Dick chuckled. “C’mon. Lemme get you something to drink. Water? Soda? Coffee? You look tired.”

“Wow you sound like Alfred,” Dick said. “Just insisting that I have something to eat or drink at all times.”

I snickered. “Well you look tired,” I repeated. “What can I get you?”

“Just water, thanks,” Dick said.

I gestured to the sofa as I crossed to the kitchen. “Have a seat,” I invited.

Dick didn’t need to be told twice. He just collapsed on my sofa with a flop. I smirked to myself as I filled a glass with ice and water and handed it to him. “Thanks,” he muttered, accepting it and guzzling about half of it, without even looking me in the eye. I sat on the coffee table.

“Richard,” I said, using his full first name to get his attention. He looked over at me. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah I'm fine. Work’s just been really hard lately. What with Bruce’s disappearance and all,” he said. “I'm the oldest so I have to kind of step up, y’know?”

“Right…”

No one besides me and a few people close to the Wayne family even knew that Bruce was missing. Everyone else believed he was in Miami or somewhere with a supermodel, and Dick was helping to perpetuate that rumor. But since Bruce was gone, Dick really was stepping up. Left the police force—a job he actually really loved—to help Mr. Fox run the company. He was also the primary guardian and custodian of Bruce’s only (known) biological son, Damian.

“Hey,” Dick suddenly said after a few minutes of silence. “Don’t worry about me. Really. I got this.”

“Dick,” I admonished. “You don’t have to bury or deflect with me. You know that, right?”

“Yeah. ‘Course,” he replied. “Let’s talk about something else, though, yeah?”

“Okay,” I said.

We were quiet for a second, trying to come up with something to talk about.

“Have you noticed that Batman’s been acting different lately?” I asked.

“Huh?” Dick wondered around another mouthful of water.

“Yeah. Batman’s been acting different,” I said.

“How so?”

“His fighting style has changed dramatically. Like, he’s about as flippy as Nightwing now. Do you think he went to a gymnastics class and was like, ‘Imma do this now,’ or something?”

“Honestly, I couldn’t tell ya,” Dick remarked. “Since I left the police force I haven’t even seen Batman. And even when I was a cop it was rare. He only ever talked to Gordon.”

“Hmm. Just seems weird to me. I mean, that cape is big enough and probably heavy enough to fit three people under there comfortably and suddenly he’s just flipping around, all airborne, like it’s no biggie.”

“Well maybe he got some sense in him and lightened the cape up a little,” Dick said.

“Maybe,” I agreed. “I just think something’s up with Batman.”

“Maybe there is. Maybe there isn’t. Maybe it’s just a phase.”

“What like a teenager? How old do you think Batman is?”

“Well… given there have been five or six distinctly different Robins and Batman first showed up like thirteen years ago… maybe he’s in his forties? Late thirties at the youngest.”

“Seems old,” I muttered, “to be putting on body armor and beating the crap out of bad guys night after night.”

“Yeah. But that’s my guess.” Dick shrugged and finished off the glass of water. “How come your water tastes so good? Like not metallic?”

I shrugged. “Lucky I guess,” I said. I took the cup from his hand. “Here. Lemme get you a refill. You really downed that. You must be dehydrated.”

I got up from where I’d been sitting on the coffee table and went to go back to my kitchen.

Dick grabbed my arm. “Hey wait,” he said, stopping me. I looked down at him. “You’re right. I am deflecting and avoiding. I'm just under a lot of stress right now. You know? I'm trying to do right by Damian and Wayne Enterprises and trying to be the replacement of Bruce Wayne is exhausting and I haven’t been getting enough sleep and I really don’t know what to do about Damian all the time. Like, I have custody and guardianship over him but I didn’t even meet him until recently and when I finally did he tried to—” Dick stopped.

“Tried to what?” I asked.

“Never mind. He just lashed out and punched me. Doesn’t matter. It’s in the past. I'm just tired, y’know? You were right.” He slumped and let me go. I went to the kitchen to refill his water.

“Well then let’s get you a night to chill a little,” I said. “Come to the movie with me tonight.”

“What movie?”

“I'm going to the movies tonight. Come with. I’m debating between Infinity War and Ocean’s Eight.”

“Haven’t you already seen Infinity War like three times?” Dick teased.

I coughed awkwardly. “Yup,” I said.

“Then let’s go to Ocean’s Eight,” he said. Then stopped. His face fell as I glanced over my shoulder at him. “No. I… I can’t. I can’t go. I can’t leave Damian alone.”

I shrugged and watched the glass fill up. “He can come too,” I said. “I assume he doesn’t mind PG-Thirteen movies.”

“No. He doesn’t. But really—we… we can’t.”

“Why not?” I pressed. “Dick, you need to take a night to relax. Even the illustrious Richard Grayson-Wayne, eldest son of Bruce Wayne, deserves a mental health day. A night off to chill. No one can be under that much stress all the time without it taking a heavy toll on them. Not even you. You’re not Superman, Dick. You can’t take on the world.”

“No I'm not Superman, kiddo,” he said. “But you’re right. I’ve been pushing myself too hard. Let me call Damian and tell him we’re gonna see a movie tonight, okay?”

I grinned, happy I could convince him. “Sounds great. Here you go.” I handed him his water. He took another long drink and pulled his phone out. He dialed in a number and held it to his ear.

All I heard of Damian’s greeting was, “Grayson.”

“Hey Damian!” Dick said brightly. “Listen, it’s a Friday night so you and I are going to go with one of my civilian friends to the movies.”

“Civilian friend”? What did he mean by that?

Oh right. He used to be a cop. Duh. I almost smacked myself in the forehead for forgetting that.

“No, Damian. There’s no arguing with me. We’re going. It’ll be good for both of us. And the movie is supposed to be a really good one… Damian. Damian… Absolutely not. No. You are coming with us or you’re staying with Alfred all night. You’re not allowed out after dark alone… Well I'm not your father… Of course I trust you, but I'm not going to let you go out without me… It has nothing to do with your age… Damian! We’re going because I said so!”

I could only hear Dick’s half of the conversation because Damian wasn’t a loud talker, but I could hear muffled noises that I couldn’t fathom into words from Damian’s end of the call.

“Damian, don’t yell at me in Arabic. I can’t speak it very well, but I know what you’re saying,” Dick said calmly. “Calm down, kiddo. It’s one night. It’s not a crime to have fun once in a while.”

There was a long pause. A smile split up Dick’s face.

“Great. We’ll come get you when school gets out and then go to dinner then the movie! This’ll be fun! Bye kiddo! Tell your teacher I said hi!” He hung up. “He’s gonna go!”

“Oh good!” I replied excitedly. “I hope this’ll help you destress.”

“I think it will,” Dick said. He gave me a hug. “Thanks for convincing me.”

“Glad I could,” I said with a grin.

^^^^^

One week later…

I stumbled into my apartment, tired after the end of a long day at work.

And shrieked.

Batman was lying on my couch, cowl on, so tall his legs had to go up on the arm, and apparently unconscious. Robin was standing behind the sofa, hostile on my entry but relaxing almost immediately. His hood was up, as usual, and I couldn’t really see his face in the darkness. “I apologize for the intrusion,” Robin said, so small and youthful that I wondered—not for the first time—how old he was and why he was allowed to fight crime all night. “I could not drag him very far. We were nearby and he said he trusted you.”

I scrunched my eyebrows. “Trusted me”? How did Batman even know me?

“Um…” I said. “What happened to him?”

Robin looked down at the face of the man on my sofa. “Gun-shot wound to the shoulder. I could not get him back to the Batmobile to take him to proper medical attention. I was hoping you might be able to assist. If need be, I can give you my comm receiver so that our medic can advise you through the process.”

I took a step closer and saw the hole in Batman’s body armor, just below the edge of his collarbone on his right shoulder. The bullet was plugging it up from bleeding too hard but it was still glistening with red in the low light.

I flicked the lights on. Robin whirled around, hiding his face from me and tugging his hood so his face was hidden more deeply in it.

I crossed to my fridge and pulled out a bottle of Gatorade that I’d basically been saving until the next time I was stupid enough to try and go out on a run. Ignoring Robin’s continuing attempts to hide his face from me, I handed him the bottle. “He’s gonna need this when he wakes up,” I said.

“He’s not unconscious, miss,” Robin said. “He has retreated.”

“I don’t know what that means,” I said, moving back to the kitchen for my First Aid kit.

“His mind has gone so far into itself he’s practically lost consciousness. It dulls the pain. But he can still be brought out if necessary,” Robin explained. I grabbed the First Aid kit and went back to my sofa.

“Okay, I can’t work around the body armor so we’re going to have to take off at least the t—” I halted in my tracks, recognizing the face of the man in front of me. The First Aid kit fell from my hands and dropped onto the carpet. “Dick?!” I demanded.

Robin froze, every visible muscle bristling, back still mostly to me. I looked up at him. He’d whirled around.

“How do you—?” Robin began.

“Stand down, Robin,” Batman ordered, in a familiar voice with an unfamiliarly sharp tone.

I looked down at Batman.

Sharp blue eyes appeared from behind the cowl. Blue eyes that I would recognize anywhere. “Hey,” he rasped.

“Oh my gosh,” I muttered. I dropped to my knees to grab the First Aid kit and put my face right up close to Batman’s. “Dick? Really?”

“Surpriiiiise,” he said sluggishly.

I looked up at Robin. “Help me get the body armor off,” I ordered.

Robin glowered at me but complied. I still couldn’t see his face because of his hood but that didn’t bother me.

The young sidekick and I stripped off the top of the suit to reveal a thin baby blue T-shirt underneath. The cowl and cape attached to it were still on Dick’s head because I didn’t need them to be removed. I cut the T-shirt away. “Sorry Dick,” I muttered as I bared his shoulder.

“No problem. It’s just an undershirt,” he mumbled.

“I'm going to pull the bullet out and then stitch you up, okay?” I said to Dick, threading the suture needle. “You’re not going to die, but it’ll hurt like crap.”

He tilted his head and shrugged his good shoulder. “What else is new?” he asked.

I looked up at Robin. “The second the bullet is clear, put this dish towel on his shoulder and apply pressure until I can stitch it up,” I instructed.

“Are you even qualified for this?” Robin demanded.

“Dude, my dad is a surgeon. He’s been teaching me things like this since I could hold a needle and not stab myself with it on accident,” I retorted. “Legally, maybe not. But I know what I'm doing.”

“Mkay,” Dick mumbled as Robin begrudgingly accepted the dish towel I handed him.

“Okay. This is gonna hurt. But you’re gonna be okay,” I said, grabbing the big tweezers—that were really more like scissors based on their appearance—and dabbing blood out of the way so I could see better. “I'm sorry I don’t have any anesthesia.”

“‘S fine,” Dick slurred, wincing in pain as I held his shoulder still with my free hand. “Jus’ get it over with.”

“Okay. On three. One—” I stuck the tweezers in, snagged the bullet, and yanked it out. Dick cried out in pain, his entire body going rigid. Robin let Batman squeeze his hand, Robin’s other hand already applying pressure to the now oozing GSW. “‘Kay, Robin. Let it go when I say. I'm going to disinfect it and stitch it up pretty quickly but it’ll be effective. Release the pressure… now!”

Robin removed the dish towel. I immediately began to disinfect the wound with some alcoholic disinfectant and then stitched it up while Dick grunted and groaned and tried not to. I could feel him stifling the noises he wanted to make at the pain.

Once the GSW was all stitched closed, I disinfected the outside, cleaned it up, and pressed gauze to it and taped it down, dressing it and sealing it so it wouldn’t get infected. “That’s the best I can do,” I said. “But it should be enough. Robin, the Gatorade.”

The kid pressed the bottle into Dick’s good hand and helped me sit him up.

“Elevating his legs like that when I came in was a bad idea,” I said to Robin as Dick tore his cowl off and drank half the bottle. He threw the cape and cowl off to the side, on top of the heap that was the top half of his body armor. “You sent the blood out of his legs and up toward his heart and his injury. Next time, keep him sat up and on the uninjured side to keep as much blood away from it as possible so the likelihood of bleeding out goes down.”

“Apologies,” Robin said.

I snickered as I cleaned up the mess my First Aid kit had become. “He talks like Damian,” I muttered to myself. I got up and put the kit away under my sink before returning to the sofa. I sat on the coffee table. “So. Batman and Robin, huh?” I smiled.

Dick gave me a guilty look. “Yeah, I, uh…”

“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. I would have done the same,” I said. “Now. I have a really heavy-duty painkiller that I keep on hand for my migraines. Want one? It’ll make you really drowsy so it’s your choice.”

Dick put his good hand on his bad shoulder for a moment and winced. “Yeah. That’d be great.”

I got up and went into my bathroom where I got a pill out of a bottle in my medicine cabinet. When I returned to the living room, Dick and Robin were talking with their heads close together. I handed the pill to Dick. “Here you go,” I said.

“Thank you,” he said, throwing it in his mouth and taking a swig of the Gatorade. “How long is it going to need to take effect?”

“It’s pretty quick. You won’t be driving the Batmobile tonight,” I said. “You’re both welcome to stay here. I have a couple of blowup mattresses and you’re welcome to take the bed—”

“Absolutely not,” Dick said. “We intruded on your home. And honestly I don’t feel like getting up… I'm fine on the couch.”

“Dick—”

“No. It’s okay. Really.” He glanced over his shoulder at where Robin had taken up a position at the window, glowering out at the night with his arms folded. “Robin, you alright to stay here for the night?”

“S’pose,” Robin said. “What’s one night?”

“That’s a good bird,” Dick muttered distractedly with another wince and hiss of pain. “Mind if I get some shut-eye?”

“Not at all,” I said.

“No,” Robin said curtly.

Dick bedded down on the sofa, lying on his uninjured side. I threw a blanket over him. “Mm. Thank you.”

“No problem. Get some rest Dick. We’ll talk in the morning.”

“Yeah. Talk…” He closed his eyes and relaxed.

“Robin?” I asked. “You’re welcome to shower. You can take my bed. I have a blowup—”

“Did you not hear Grays—Batman? We intruded, madam. One night on a blowup mattress will not do me any harm. However, I will gratefully accept your offer to freshen up,” Robin interrupted.

I nodded to the bathroom. Robin gave me a curt nod of thanks and strode inside. After a few moments I heard the shower turn on.

I brushed some of Dick’s messy, sweaty hair out of his face.

He caught my hand and pressed it against his cheek. “Thank you. You really did a lot for me.”

“You’re welcome. I'm just sorry you didn’t tell me sooner.”

“Didn’t want you to worry about me. And I wanted… to keep you… safe. Less you knew… the better.”

“Why?”

“I love you… don’t want you to be… in danger…” He sighed and drifted off to sleep.

I froze, my hand still in Dick’s slack grip. “What?” I breathed.

I pulled my hand out of Dick’s and pulled out the air mattress from where it hid in one of my lower cupboards. I got started blowing it up. It was loud, but Dick didn’t wake up. I sat there with a clamp over the button and stared across the living room at Dick’s sleeping form. He was handsome, and more peaceful when he slept than I’d ever seen him while awake. What did he mean, he loved me? Was he meaning platonically? We were good friends… And Dick was Batman! Him calling me a “civilian friend” made so much more sense now. Batman. Seriously.

I threw a couple blankets and a pillow on the air mattress before going to bed, exhausted in more ways than one.

^^^^^

I woke up to a gentle hand brushing my hair out of my face. “Psst! Wake up!” a familiar voice hissed. I sucked in a deep breath.

Dick was leaning over me with a smile, a new T-shirt on, and his arm in a sling.

“Hey,” he greeted softly.

I stretched and sat up. “Hi,” I replied.

“Thanks for last night. Sorry I must have freaked you out.”

I shrugged. “It’s no problem. I did what I could.”

Dick sat on my bed next to me. “About what I said before I fell asleep.”

“Which thing?”

“That I loved you.”

“Right.”

“I didn’t mean for you to find any of this out this way. I always thought I’d tell you I loved you first, and then decide when to tell you about the other half of my life later, if at all, depending on what happened with our relationship.”

“When you say you love me, how do you mean?” I asked.

“Romantically. I’ve had a crush on you for ages.”

I let out a breath. “Dick, I, uh—”

“It’s okay. The last twelve hours have been full of a lot of stress for you. But when you’re ready to talk about it, I'm ready.” He gave me a hug with his good arm, his nose burying in my hair the way it always did when he hugged me. “I gotta go. Duty calls. Thank you for all of your help.”

“Feel better, Dick,” I said.

He grinned as he got off the bed and moved to leave. “I will. I already do.” He swung out of my room on his good arm.

^^^^^

“Hey!” Dick exclaimed as I turned up on his front door later the same day. His arm was still in a sling, but he looked bright and cheery as ever.

I threw my arms around him, being careful of his injury. “Richard John Grayson, I love you and last night I was terrified I was going to lose you,” I breathed into his shirt. He held onto me with one arm, his face against my hair. I heard a surprised, relieved sigh and felt it flutter my hair.

“You’re not going to lose me. Not yet,” he promised, squeezing me tighter. I felt him kiss the top of my head.

“Grayson, what is going o—Oh,” Damian said over Dick’s shoulder. “Your romantic interest. Pardon me.” He went back to wherever he’d come from.

Dick chuckled. “Never one to let a moment go uninterrupted, Damian,” he muttered.

I grinned and pulled away from the hug to look him in the face. “Promise me you’re okay?” I asked.

“Darling, if you wanted, right now I could fly,” he promised.

[thecaffeinebookwarrior]

The Problem With Cringe Culture

From what I’ve seen, the phenomenon dubbed Cringe Culture is a paragon of insecurity, internalized misogyny, and self-loathing.

Let me elaborate a little here:  here on Tumblr (and in life in general, honestly), a lot of folks are very pre-occupied with what is or isn’t Cringey.  It’s a dynamic somewhat reminiscent of an eighth grade schoolyard, but that’s really not the issue here.  

What Tumblr folks dub Cringey are typically things that are enjoyed by young teens (in particular, young girls) exploring fandom and fan creativity for the first time.

Yes, these teens are frequently obnoxious, overzealous, and loud, but it’s an exciting time for kids:  we as adults may have comfortably settled into our interests, but for them it’s an avenue of unsupervised self-expression they may not have experienced before.  Moreover, they have little to no experience in moderating themselves, which is one of the reasons why I believe the act of mocking them to be a somewhat callous one.  

Are they occasionally annoying?  Subjectively, yes.  I frequently find young teens and tweens annoying, particularly when they’re being loud and obnoxious during my allotted writing time.  But I don’t shame them for it, on here or in real life, because I’m an adult and they are literally children .  

And most importantly, so are the people mocking them.

I’ll elaborate once again:  I’m nineteen.  Most of my friends, both on here and on my other blog, are fellow chill late teens and twenty-somethings.  And I’ve never seen any adult who’s secure in their own self-image do anything other than Do Their Own Thing and allow everyone else do the same.

In other words, I’ve been involved in fandom for a few years now, and almost everyone I’ve seen actively participating in cringe culture has turned out to be no older than seventeen or so themselves, and probably (consciously or otherwise) attempting to distance themselves from their “embarrassing” younger alter egos and feel more confident in their purported maturity. 

Because they probably did some Cringey things when they were fourteen, too:  maybe they drew manga OCs on DeviantArt with needlessly elaborate hair, ran a passionate SuperWhoLock blog, read Homestuck, wrote angsty poetry about turning into wolves, et cetera.  

Of course, the whole point here is that there is literally nothing wrong with any of these things:  they’re harmless examples of children exploring revenues of creativity for the first time, that we’ve been conditioned to find embarrassing.  

Now, I’m not going to pretend I didn’t have this phase myself:  I once got into an impassioned argument on Facebook with a bunch of One Direction fans when I was sixteen or so, in which I dismissed their obsession as being Stupid and Juvenile and proclaimed my favored Heavy Metal as being far superior.  

Now, I’m still not into One Direction in the slightest, but if I could go back in time I would probably smack my sixteen-year-old self upside the head and tell her to leave people alone and let them do their own thing.

Of course, a large part of my reasoning was also driven at the time by my unfortunate Not Like Other Girls phase, in which I wanted to distance myself from the silliness of my fellow teen girls as much as possible.  I may or may not have still been in my “I hate pink” phase, which I still shudder to think about to this day.

Which brings me to another one of Cringe Culture’s more problematic aspects:  it’s inherently a little misogynist, in that almost everyone who partakes in it is attempting to distance themselves from the interests of teenage girls.

Shows like Doctor Who, Steven Universe, Voltron, Supernatural, Yuri on Ice, and many others all have passionate and predominantly young female fanbases, and as such, people seem unwittingly inclined to see them as inherently vapid, annoying, or Cringey in a way that equally vocal male-dominated fandoms simply aren’t.  

Even being a Trekkie (Star Trek fan) was considered embarrassing when the fandom was predominantly female populated, although the means by which fanfiction and discourse was exchanged was via fan-run zines rather than Tumblr blogs.  Now that men are in on it, it’s considered one of the best fandoms there is.

More male populated fandoms such as Game of Thrones, the Walking Dead, the DC and Marvel cinematic universes, and Star Wars are just as impassioned, and have had just as many ideological issues in the past.  Yet are these things ever denigrated as being Cringy or annoying?  Not that I can recall.

Another one of my greatest issues with Cringe Culture is that it discourages passion:  I have never encountered a fandom, Cringey or otherwise, that hasn’t produced genuinely stunning works of art and fiction.  Moreover, I’ve never encountered a fandom that doesn’t have fans who have cited it as what saved them from depression or even suicide.  

So if someone’s passionate about something, even if it’s something of no value to you, it costs absolutely zero dollars to mind your own goddamn business and not taint their joy with your own insecurity, cynicism, and internalized self-loathing.  

Similarly, I can speak from experience when I say my interests and fandoms got me through the very worst period of my adolescence, and I’d be a significantly less happy person if I didn’t have still have them to fall back on.  Not everyone’s sole source of enjoyment and comfort in life comes from nihilistic memes.

So if you want to take a step towards fostering a more creative generation, take a step away from Cringe Culture.  Respect other people’s interests, and openly and unabashedly enjoy your own.  Question why you think certain interests are Cringey, and try to distance yourself from the mentality that you’re a better or cooler person for being less similar to young women.

And finally, try and forgive your fourteen-year-old self for whatever cringiness they may have been culpable of, and tell them that you love them anyway.

[onewhoturns]

*sigh* I have to keep reminding myself not to be That Kid. I mean, I loved a few musicals back in high school (I was that rare kid in all the plays and musicals who wasn’t actually in a theater class, just chorus), but I also remember - even then - feeling so out of my depth with the sheer number of musicals out there, and feeling frustrated and left out because I just didn’t have the energy, the focus, the time to look all of them up. This is why I am always wary of the whole Broadway Fandom thing. Things move too fast for me to keep up, with new shows popping up constantly (not to mention a seemingly endless pool of older shows) and not enough time/energy/focus -- essentially not enough of me -- to learn them.

Story time! [Apologies, I’ve lately taken to treating this blog as... more of a blog? Like not just for reblogs, but for action journal-style entries about my life? Feel free to bail, this is mostly self-reflection.]

As previously stated, I was a theater kid in high school. I loved being on stage, I loved the community built up around a show, but I wasn’t a real theater kid, cause I wasn’t in the every day classes. You’d think this wouldn’t be a big deal. But, y’know-- high school. Luckily I had chorus, and I was exceptionally active in that. But my schedule didn’t allow me to take the academic classes and arts classes I wanted to take, so I chose fashion design over theater and I was super happy with that decision.

And then came the Big Dramatic Huge Deal For Depressed Me at the end of my senior year when I had my final showcase for fashion design which involved managing a team of assistants to create x number of outfits for a final fashion show. This was going to be around the same time as the last show of the year. I’d gone 7/7 being in every mainstage show in high school (two a year, the first three and a half years of high school), I felt super close to all my theater friends, but there was no possible way I’d be able to do both things, and I’d already applied to school for fashion design, and this was a class, I couldn’t just blow it off, it was a big deal and it would be a showcase in front of an audience of peers and family and friends and teachers etc. So I missed out on the last show. And let me tell you, I didn’t realize how much I would miss it.

Not the process of being in a show - I was way too busy, and way too ADHD to have the presence of mind to think about it while I was trying to get my showcase work done - but the,.. maybe the community? I don’t remember feeling any kind of loneliness before the show happened, though my memory (as previously stated) is crap. I just remember attending the show - alone - and having a great time and cheering people on, but being seated in the audience with empty chairs on either side (that one slow sunday matinee, I think? did we have those? or maybe I’m just misremembering, like I said, my memory is crap; maybe I wasn’t actually alone, I just didn’t know who I was seated beside). And I remember afterward, greeting my friends in the hall where everyone was doing the standard congratulations and just having these people who’d I’d thought I’d been so close to basically ignore me. It was... pretty awful.

And yeah, okay, it was high school, I was a moody teen, etc. etc. but even thinking about it still makes me really emotional. There was this visceral overwhelming feeling of loneliness and maybe betrayal and some element of crisis, disconnectedness (not helped by the fact that minor friendship dramatics in middle school started my whole depression thing), and -- oh, also, that person who I mentioned before, the one who threatened to kill himself? He was a techie. He worked the show. I may have possibly felt a little uncomfortable hanging around too long in case I’d run into him, may have felt alienated from the group when my friends took his side in a disagreement no one knew we were having (not even him, probably). And I’m fairly sure my memory is correct that that sparked one of the worst breakdowns of my high school career. I don’t think it was one of the Active ones (pretty sure it wasn’t that time I overdosed on otc pain meds or the time I briefly thought of hanging myself), but it was definitely a ‘wrap myself in a comforter and listen to Blue October and bawl my eyes out because no one cares about me’ kind of breakdown.

The more I think about it, and how awful it felt, the more impressed I am that the next year (or the year after?) I decided to go to another show. Of course, this was after I dropped out of college. And I brought friends for support (and y’know what, that was a good choice. I needed people there to talk to, people who I knew, so I wasn’t going alone). And the more I think of it the more I realize that, fuck -- props to me for being okay being alone, with the sheer amount of stress, anxiety, depression I’ve had centering around friendships and my inability to maintain lasting ones. Good on me for spending two years attending Capitol Fringe completely alone, attending show upon show alone, having the courage to put myself out there and try to make friendly acquaintances in an environment where everyone had their groups or duos or whatever. Like, I may be lonely but fuck if I’m gonna let myself come across as that creep in the corner of the tent bar. Sure, maybe I’ll keep my resting bitch face walking the streets of DC, but on fringe fest grounds I was giving out stickers and being really goddamn sociable. Good for me. Fight self-consciousness with aggressive sociability.

Anyway...

Yeah this... this got way off the rails.

My point is that I’m doing that thing where I’m getting into a thing (Hadestown) and I have these opposing sides in me because 1) I really really like this music - this show - but 2) I am really fucking intimidated by these teenage Broadway aficionados who know all this shit about casts and are name dropping all these shows I’ve only heard of (or never heard of) and fuck there are so many and it’s so overwhelming and fuck I forgot how much DRAMA is in drama, shit, y’all are vicious about people deserving one thing or another, like please lets just enjoy things for the sake of enjoying things, so 3) the more I try to explore this the more I keep running into posts that are somehow stirring up all this anxiety in me over ridiculously stupid things (yes, musicals are stupid. the concept of music, theater, and musical theater is not -- the idea that music/theater/musical theater can have such a profound impact on people is most definitely not stupid. but each individual musical, to me, a person who has not heard nor seen nor been involved in most of these shows, is a stupid thing to fix on as an annoyance. my point is not that musicals are stupid but that my own reaction to them is occasionally nonsensical. or something. idk, I’m rambling. whatever.)

I dunno. This ended up getting muddled. I’m just frustrated, is the point. That this thing that I enjoy has become tainted by this shitty experience from way back when and the intimidation I feel around an environment I used to consider my home.

Also I’m sorry if I post over enthusiastically about a musical. Please do not mistake me for a member of the broadway fandom. Please do not engage with me as a member of the broadway fandom cause I’ll be way out of my depth, overwhelmed, and - depending on my state of mind - will either be a) happy go lucky and clueless, shrug, and say ‘sounds cool’ or b) get immediately overwhelmed and have fuckin flashbacks to this shit from high school. Please don’t recommend things to me because I just can’t process things that quickly and there’s just too much out there.

And jesus fuck, for a person who considered their high school years pretty good they sure fucked me up over stupid things, eh?

[asemgirlpower]

Does a girl gamer even exist? Can girls even be geeks? Short answer: Hell Yeah

Comic book stores. Chemistry labs. Deep in the guts of computer programming code. Safe to assume that these are the domains of geeky, nerdy boys – the type who failed gym class but comes back their 20th reunion swimming in the cash from their tech startup.

The word geek comes from the Dutch word gek, meaning ‘mad or silly’ and the Germanic origin geck meaning ‘fool.’ Today’s dictionary defines geek as “ a peculiar person, especially one who is perceived to be overly intellectual, unfashionable, or socially awkward.”

What does it even mean to be a real geek? If you had asked the eighteen-year-old me, NEVER would I have admitted I was a geek. To me, back then, a geek was a social outcast with no hope of getting laid, and dying alone without any friends. Well shit, I can tell you right now, I was very wrong. To me, being a geek means being perpetually passionate about science fiction, high fantasy action, comic books, technology, science, etc. I get the same rush towards scientists and astronauts that some do towards movie stars and rock stars. Today, I am proud to consider myself a geek. I spend countless hours reading textbooks, researching my own scientific projects, and loving any science fiction I can get my hands on.

Sadly, society is still along track with eighteen-year-old me. The geek culture is still perceived as the holy ground for white men. The exclusion of women of a key factor to what gives some geeks their credibility. These men have been hiding behind screens, talking shit through headsets, and never could a woman ever do something like that. No no, in the geek culture, women are only to be seen as “damsels in distress” there to be saved by our knight in shining armor. Chris Kulwe, a lifetime gamer and part time NFL player, says there is a herd of people who feel that their identity as “gamers” is being taken away, and they are

“desperately protecting the last shreds of ‘core gaming’ in their unironically horrible Liveblog journals filled with patently obvious white privilege and poorly disguised misogyny”

The men in this culture have threatened women’s lives, have exposed their entire lives on the internet, and for what? Because they think that allowing these girls in their “all boys club” will take away from the exclusivity? I think it’s because their selfish, and their lack of basic human nature to treat all people with respect and kindness you expect in return. They will do whatever it takes to maintain the sliver of hegemonic masculinity they still have left within their culture.

Women and girls are taught since birth that we will be judged no matter what; about everything we do, say, wear, or see. Those lessons may not have been taught in so many words, but they still exists all the same. This behavior tends to be even worse among women in stereotypically male-dominated cultures, like geeks. We build up our cred by constantly putting others down, proclaim we aren’t “like the other girls” (as though that’s an accomplishment) and argue what makes us “real” gamers and geeks instead of the dreaded “fake geek girl.” Unfortunately, there’s no amount of measurable credibility, no ratio of clothing to skin we must maintain to unlock the Geek Girl Achievement.

So to those who say the death of the “gamer” is among us, I say “LET US IN!!!”

The (mostly) straight, white, male people police geek culture using concepts like “geek cred” (having an impossibly detailed knowledge of a fandom’s minutia), claims that girls are thin-skinned princesses who can’t handle the culture, and implications that female nerds are either only tagging along with their boyfriends or trying to sleep their way to success. What’s ironic about all this is that while television, film, video games, the comic books industry continues to mostly cater to presumed male audiences—across media, female creators and storylines with women at their center are the exception to the rule—women make up at least half of people who spend money on geeky media and events. “What made me want to get into comics was how stupid the women were and how much I wanted to fix it,” said Barbara Randall Kesel, a writer and editor who has worked with DC and Marvel Comics.

Kesel is an example of the exception. She saw something wrong with the culture, and she wanted to do something about it. Similar to Oni Hartstein, a webcomic creator, a fan conventional founder and operator, and a haunted house aficionado. Her five-year-old Intervention: The Premier Showcase of Online Creativity is a convention’s convention and an incubator for DIY, indie, and technology artists. She also founded (Re)Generation Who: The Doctor Who Convention for Every Generation. She says being a geek means you are not necessarily in what people call the mainstream 

“You’re more on the outside, but then you find other people like yourself. You find people who understand your wavelength, understand your love for books, your love for haunted houses and immersive theater, your love for stuff that requires a little more thought”

What a role model! Someone who isn’t afraid to be herself, someone who has broken through various glass ceilings. As an exception to the “all boys club” of the geek world, I think we all deserve more people to look up to. Now, I’m not talking about the scantly clothed heroines that fill the pages of the comic books created by men, for me. I want real people, real nerds to look up to. Leah Jane agrees, when saying:

Wouldn’t a more compelling, interesting, and challenging comparison for celebrating an alternative to mainstream role models for girls have been real-life women who are involved in geek culture? How about Lauren Faust, creator of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic? Or Lindsay Ellis, the Nostalgia Chick? Rebecca Watson, from Skepchick? Jane Goodall, the world-famous Primatologist? Dr. Alice Roberts, from Digging for Britain? Lisa Randall, the Harvard Physicist? Kate Beaton, the brilliant comic artist? Or Mayim Bialik, the actress turned neuroscientist turned actress?

So I don’t think we should be admirable of the comic book action heroines, with the physically impossible contortions of the female body. I think the girls aspiring to be accepted into the geek culture should repress the stereotypes that men force on us, whether it through the imaginary Aeryn Sun from Farscape, Zoe Alleyne Washburne from Firefly, or Susan Ivanova from Babylon 5, Jadzia Dax from Star Trek: Deep Space 9, or Samantha Carter from Stargate, all women are sexualized for pop culture.

Find the real women nerds, let your passion grow. We need to accept each other for who we are, regardless of how we came upon our fandoms or how revealing our cosplays are. None of us have any right to judge the legitimacy of anyone else’s level of geek. Be positive and focus on your goals no matter what. Do what you love as much as is physically possible, that’s what is going to be the engine that powers you throughout whatever may come.