#i know it’s probably just them being manic because it’s like obsession level yes yes yes but still it’s nice to see them not despairing

[moons-among-distant-stars]

was it not loop??? was it the king??? but why would the king want to make sif??? unless sif isn’t the clone but like cmoooon he’s gotta be right???

this game continues to confuse me (i mean this in a good way)

[credit-song]

It’s 2 am and I have work tomorrow but my stupid manic brain refuses to let this go and I don’t have anywhere else to put this because I spend 30 minutes typing out a YouTube comment and then the page reloaded and it was gone but I can’t let it go so here I am on tumblr instead.

The TLDR is: I think I have autism, but I probably don’t but three of my four siblings have been diagnosed with autism and I’ve been diagnosed with pretty much everything but autism and it would make way more sense if I have have bipolar disorder and autism but maybe I only want to have autism because of how my mom gave my autistic siblings special treatment.

So yeah, kinda a long TLDR but whatever. I have been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, OCD, AHDH, Dyslexia, BPD, and got a “you might have STPD” once but wasn’t fully assessed for that. I have four siblings, three of which have been diagnosed with autism. To make things easier, I will call them:

A, the oldest, who has autism

B, the third oldest (I’m second oldest), who has autism

C, the second youngest who supposedly doesn’t have any mental disorders but also has never been assessed for anything

And D, the youngest, who had autism.

Growing up, A and I were close in age, so we were always paired together. My mom figured out pretty early on that A was autistic. We called it “Asperger’s” back then, but we call it autism now, so that’s how I’ll be referring to it. I was always considered the “normal one” in my family. When I was a young child (like, before C and D were born) my two siblings were very clearly autistic, so my mom would literally call me “the normal one.” Like this isn’t me being dramatic, I was literally the Normal One.

My mom infantilized the shit out of A and B (especially A). And since A and I were always doing things together, we were compared a lot. I was “good at making friends” and talking to people “came easily” to me. Whereas it was difficult to A. So my mom told me that I had to be sure to make friends for the both of us. Because it was easy for me and difficult for A. The thing was: it wasn’t fucking easy for me!!! I don’t know how this developed because it all happened when I was so young. But as far back as I can remember, my mom would always talk about how I was the extrovert and good at making friends and had to make friends for both me and A and I would sit there and be like “yes, I love talking to people, it’s so easy” and be lying through my teeth. I found it so difficult to talk to people. I was always saying the wrong thing and people thought I was weird. But I knew I had to be social because A couldn’t so I had to do it for both of us.

I did eventually make some friends, and I was so determined to be that social butterfly and not be the weird kid. Cause the thing was, I was the “normal one” in my family, but other people didn’t see that. I was still weird to everyone else. But I never noticed because my mom said that I was just mimicking what A did and that’s why people thought I acted strange. It wasn’t because I had autism, it was because I was copying A (which, typing that out makes me want to scream because mimicking behaviors is literally a symptom of autism).

Anyways, I had finally made some friends, but then they all decided that I was annoying and cried about everything and talked too much so they stopped being friends with A and I. Only one of those friends stuck by us and to this day I have yet to become friends with someone new and connect with them at the level I was friends with the friend that stuck with us. That friendship also fell apart because I was gay as hell for her but we were in a very homophobic environment so I just repressed it until she got a boyfriend and everything fell apart.

But at this point in time, I was still the “normal one.” I was still the one who was great at making friends (despite sucking at making friends) and great at talking to people (despite people thinking I was weird). I had this obsession with eye contact because my mom would talk about how A couldn’t maintain eye contact with people and how important it was for me to do that. But instead of avoiding eye contact, I would just stare at people when they spoke to me. I wouldn’t even be paying attention that what they were saying, I was too focused on making sure that I was maintaining eye contact. I also had a lot of interests that people found weird but I was obsessed with them. I used to go on lore dumps for hours before I eventually figured out that people didn’t like that and became the ultimate people pleaser who never talked about anything I liked for fear that I wouldn’t be able to shut up when I got started.

Then I moved out of my mom’s house and started college. I was pretty surprised to find out that most people thought I was weird. I failed miserably at making friends. Well, making friends was fine, keeping those friends was impossible. I would much rather stay in my room and spend time on my hobbies than go out and socialize. My poor roommate tried so hard to be my friend, but whenever she’d try to talk to me, I’d just be like “why are we talking? I want to go work on my story, but I guess I’ll be polite.” She must have invited me out fifteen times before I realized that “we should go bar hopping sometime!” meant “let’s make a plan to go bar hopping together.”

I desperately wanted to fit in and connect with my peers, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that they were all getting something that I was fundamentally missing out on. I would come home from class and just scream and cry in my car until I felt good enough to go inside. And then my poor roommate would try to engage in conversation and I’d want to scream but kept a cool face until I could shut down the conversation and get back to my computer.

The only people I really had any sort of relationship with were men who wanted to date me. I was pretty naive, so I was like “oh, I don’t want to date, but we can be friends!” and then we’d be friends but they’d still want to date and would always be like “man, I wish we were dating” but I really didn’t want to date and really wanted a friend so I’d just be like “haha, but we’re not!” They’d always be like “you’re not like other girls” and I’d be thinking “yeah! I’m trying to figure out why!” They very much treated me like a manic pixie dream girl but I wanted them to like me so I went along with it.

I remember once in class, well actually while I was waiting for class to start, I was talking to one of my “guy friends” and I opened up my computer to see that one of my favorite YouTubers had uploaded. I remember feeling this almost painful amount of joy. I didn’t even notice I was flapping my hands until my guy friend goes “are you autistic or something?” in such a disgusted tone that I stopped immediately. I told him about how I grew up with a lot of autistic siblings so that’s why I seem autistic but I’m not. Another time, I was at a party (the one party I went to at college and only when I was a senior), I was talking to a guy and he said that I had “really weird and dramatic facial expressions.” For some reason that sent me into a spiral because “weird facial expressions” is an autistic thing and I can’t have autism because A has autism and I’m The Normal One.

I know I’m making myself seem autistic, but I am actually pretty good at reading social cues! At least, I know that when I do something inappropriate because of people’s reactions. I thought I was good at reading facial expressions until I got to thinking about it and realized that I just don’t know when people change expressions. I will stare at someone’s face to maintain eye contact, but I have no clue why expression they’re making because I’m not paying attention. I think I’d be good at reading expressions in theory but I don’t know because I just don’t pay attention to expressions.

Anyways, I had big meltdown at college and got diagnosed with Bipolar disorder. I moved back home and got to know my younger siblings (C and D) better as they were only 10-11 when I left for college and were now 14-15. D had recently been diagnosed with autism and mental disorders is one of her special interests. I’m also obsessed with mental disorders, so we bonded a lot over that. And I learned way more about autism from her.

Okay, now it’s almost 3 am so I’m gonna try to sum up the rest quickly. I had serious mental health issues after coming home, so I ended up getting all the above diagnosis from various doctors and therapists. But I never felt like they were right? I guess? I definitely have manic episodes so I definitely have Bipolar disorder, but it’s like, okay so when I’m making a drink at work and I have to do it the “correct way” and if I miss a step I have to start over and that’s my OCD, and then when I can’t focus to conversations or forget details that’s my ADHD and when I have meltdowns over nothing and get super overwhelmed and can’t talk, that’s my BPD or my bipolar disorder, and it’s just exhausting to juggle around all these labels to explain everything. I was watching someone talk about when you get a bunch of diagnosis like that it probably means you actually just have one disorder that people are misdiagnosing as other disorders. But I could never figure out that One True Diagnosis. Because I definitely have bipolar disorder, but also something else is going on.

My therapist has suggested that perhaps I like to collect these diagnosises because my mom gave special treatment to my siblings with autism and thus I grew up thinking that a diagnosis meant getting love from my mother. But my mom doesn’t give me special treatment for my bipolar disorder or OCD or ADHD or Dsylexia so I’m subconsciously trying to get new disorders to find the one that will make her love me. I’m paraphrasing here, but the theory definitely holds up. But I also feel like if I had been an only child, I would be convinced I had autism by this age. Because I relate so much to autism content and I do show a lot of signs of autism. But it’s so mild compared to my autistic siblings so I don’t know if I actually have it.

I did get assessed for it once. It was a few months back. I was talking to someone online and mentioned having ADHD and three siblings with autism. They were basically like “hey, girlie, hate to break it to you, but if you’ve been diagnosed with ADHD and three of your siblings have autism, chances are, you do too.” It was the first time anyone had just plainly suggested that I might have autism (in a non-disgusted manner) and it definitely sent me spiraling. I was taking those “am I autistic” quizzes and reading the DSM-5 and everything. Even though the quizzes said that I might have autism, I wasn’t really convinced. But I thought it wouldn’t hurt to get assessed.

So I did, and the psychiatrist met with me and was like “why do you want to be assessed” and I was like “well, I’ve been diagnosed with ADHD but also three of my four siblings have autism, so…” and she gave me some questionnaires to take home. One for me and three for “friends and family.” But the questionnaires were clearly meant for parents of young children and not adults and their “friends and family.” Also my only friends are my family, and I’ve always been the “normal one” (although C is really now the “normal one” since I’m so bipolar). So the whole thing was a disaster. I was also horribly depressed at the time, so I’m the next few times I saw that psychiatrist, we mostly talked about that. She didn’t give me any sort of test?? But I guess the interview and the questionnaires were the test. In the end she was like “well, one things for sure, you definitely have bipolar disorder, okay bye” so I guess she determined that I didn’t have autism. So yeah, guess I don’t have it.

I don’t know. I guess maybe I want to have autism because of my mom? But also me having autism would explain so much. I wouldn’t have to juggle around so many labels. I’d just be a person who has bipolar disorder and autism. I weirdly think that my bipolar disorder is so, you know, disorder-y that when doctors look at how my life is disordered, all they see is the mania and the depression. But do I bite my wrist when I get stressed and flap my hands when I get excited because of bipolar disorder? Do I shut down when someone in my schedule changes because of bipolar disorder? Do I unintentionally piss people off all the ticking time because of bipolar disorder. Okay, maybe yes to the last one, but I feel like everyone looks at me and is like “that person is weird” and I wish I could be like “yeah, I have autism, I don’t care if you think I’m weird.” But I guess I don’t have autism. Cause the psychiatrist just said Bipolar. I don’t know.

[mutable-manifestation]

Extremely funny if this stress causes Tim to also start crying.

Can you imagine the looks on Dick & Jason's faces as Tim just absolutely bursts into tears.

I mean he's going down on both knees and straight up begging. Like "it's not true I swear I'll prove it I'll do anything please please PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME" levels of desperation

Tim does not have room for dignity right now this guy is his last link to his favorite coffee brand.

Of course, Danny just figures he's playing along. They've met a few times now, he knows enough to know that Tim's sibling are on the same wavelength as his dad about the coffee. So he just plays it up the distraught boyfriend angle like "I- I don't know I can trust you/how can I believe you/I don't know if I can do this anymore/etc" figuring Tim would just come back to the shop at a later time and they could work out a better meeting point/time.

Tim goes full unhinged stalker-mode... but on himself. Like. Stands up to grab Danny by the shoulders with a manic look in his eye and just. "I'll prove it. I'll give you a link to all of the trackers I have planted on my person, I'll give you access to my apartment cams, I'll wear a bodycam everywhere I go, I'll hire someone to build an AI to go through the footage and separate out any instances o unfaithfulness for you to peruse at your leisure - or, no, I'll give you the money to hire someone to do that so that you know I didn't order them to make it not work, I'll-"

That's about as far as he gets before Dick frantically slaps a hand over his mouth, absolutely horrified, and confesses that they thought Danny was trying to sell Tim drugs.

Is it embarrassing? Yes.

Will Danny and Tim both probably be insulted and pissed about the assumption? Yes.

But he does not want to know what else Tim was going to offer. He's half-sure he was about to out them all by offering to bug the batcave - assuming he hadn't outed them to this guy already.

Because, yikes, was that an obsessive attachment or what.

Leaving out the previous access to cams, Dick explains the whole brother + alley + unknown hooded figure = drug deal.

Jason throws him under the bus via "Actually, I figured you guys were friends or something. I was just joking about the drug deal thing. Apparently Dick thinks you have drug dealer vibes."

Eventually all of the tears peter out and Tim & Danny "make up."

Dick tries to invite them to Batburger to "make up for the unfortunate meeting and get to know you better!" but Danny is like "nah, I got *plans here*" and dips after saying he'll see Tim tomorrow.

Tim is very grateful it's only for a day, but his coffee has once more slipped away from his grasp. He's Big Mad at Dick and Jason about it, so he stomps off.

Dick and Jason? Very glad Tim isn't doing drugs.

But Very Concerned about just how far he was willing to go to get his boyfriend to not leave him.

Like.

Calling Alfred while following him home from a not-good-enough-for-him-not-to-notice distance and asking him to get the others there for an intervention about setting healthy boundaries in relationships.

And also to talk about the fact the Tim has a boyfriend and never told them???

Except Tim goes to his apartment instead of the manor. And doesn't let them in.

And bars the windows with Traps (TM).

He's big mad.

Dick tries to call & apologize but Tim is just. "I almost lost him because of you. You wanna talk to me again it'll be after I see him again and not before."

Which is really helping with the boyfriend assumption but is purely incidental from Tim's perspective as he's too lacking in caffeine to remember at the moment. this is just him being a coffee fiend.

Next time he visits the shop he's sure to give Danny a camera-free and well out-of-sight from almost all angles place to meet. He gets more coffee.

He goes back to the manor, mercifully full of coffee and practically cheery.

Dick, watching him arrive practically glowing with happiness: ...so how's Danny?

Tim, brightly: Great! He's the best!

It's only when the whole family emerges to drag him into the sitting room for questioning that he remembers the whole "boyfriend" thing.

He hasn't blown his cover yet, but oh boy. Time to Make Things Up.

(He's very insulted with the healthy boundaries talk. Like "I literally have trackers and cams on most of you. And you all do the same thing back." "He's a civilian! It's different!" "So are we! We just do non-civilian things! Illegally! Hypocrites!")

Danny, working as a cashier: Can I help you?

Tim half-deranged: Please I just want a cup of coffee

Danny squinted, then pulled out a binder: I'm sorry, sir, but you are on the Don't Serve Coffee list. I can offer you some tea instead-

Tim: NO. THIS IS THE FIFTH PLACE. BRUCE CAN'T OWN YOU ALL!

Danny leaning in to whisper: Look, man, I can't give you coffee under the cameras. Meet me in the back alley in twenty minutes and I'll get you a coffee. Bring Cash.

Tim: how much? Five hundred, six hundred or hell even a thousand? I'll bring whatever you want.

Danny: Chill dude, it's a cup of coffee. Three dollars is fine.

Tim: It's not just any coffee! It's my favorite brand and Bruce bought them out just to make sure they wouldn't sell to me anymore!

Danny: okay okay, this coffee means a lot to you. I get it. Twenty minutes alright?

Jason three weeks later in Bat cave: Tim's on drugs! I've caught him trading cash for small containers in a shady alley six times. We need an intervention.

Dick: What?! I thought that was his boyfriend!

Bruce: I also thought that was Tim boyfriend but if it's a drug dealer we have to help him.

Tim hiding in the shadows: shit.

Tim texting Danny: If anyone asks your my secret boyfriend who been making me teas in allies

Danny: who the hell would believe that? But I've had a boring week, so yeah, I'm down to be a pretend boyfriend.

[internalsealpanic]

Cosmonauts

Summary: You always call Tim space related nicknames. No one knows why.

A/n: This is technically a follow up to Art Gallery Smile but it can be read on its own. This was posted on mobile so Idk how bad it got formatted. Will edit when I get to my laptop.

Warnings: mentions of panic attack and anxiety. No graphic detail but just in case. (Yes, I gave Tim anxiety. Fight me.)

Masterlist

Series Masterlist

“IT WAS ZOMBIE ADJACENT,” Roz protests, shoving another one of Tim’s fries into her gaping maw in a vain attempt to stop the petulant pout retching its way to her lips. You roll your eyes hard enough that your entire head follows along with their movement, taking a nibble of your own fries. Roz scowls, mouth twitching the way yours does (4 times to the left and 4 and a half times to the right) it was honestly the only way to tell that you two were related in any shape or form. 

“It wasn’t even close, you deep-fried stick of margarine,”

“It shambled, didn’t it?”

 

“So does Space Case over here when you don’t funnel enough caffeine into his system, what’s your point?” You bite out leaning back, slinging your arm over the back of the bench and over Tim’s shoulder making his breath hitch. Tim can feel his skin heat up. For once, he’s thankful for just how much Roz hordes your attention.  He’s starting to run out of excuses for the color of his cheeks. Not that you ever fell for any of it from the way you hummed every time he stammered out his excuse. 

 

Based on the way your hand flexes and not so subtly moves away, you noticed his flush but made no comment. Instead, you grin- all sharp teeth and cocksure and smug bastard- leveling your older cousin a look which roughly translated to ‘Checkmate, motherfucker’. Despite his apprehension, Tim can’t help the smile that twitched on to his lips. Your eyes flickered to him. It might just be his imagination but Tim was pretty sure he saw fondness chip away at your smug grin. Tim kind of wants to lean into your arm but instead, he leans forward pretending to pay attention hiding his smile in his hands. His face is gonna get tired from smiling too much around you. 

"It wasn't even close,"

"It was freaky looking,"

"Damn woman, you're being real judgy there,"

“Back me up here Duckie!” Roz screeches, shoulders hiking up making her look like a frazzled cat about to hiss pulling Tim away from his reverie. You roll your eyes all the way to the back of your head while Steph just snorts. Tim sighs. None of you have stopped calling him ‘Duckie’ or ‘Ducktective’ after that stint of being ‘Drake’.  Admittedly, it wasn’t his best idea but you didn’t have to laugh that hard and slap your knee. When you were done laughing, you vehemently protested the name change by wearing your precious, well-kept, one of a kind Red Robin hoodie for the duration of the ‘Drake’ thing. You had said it was to bring him back to his senses (sense of fashion).  Maybe you just wanted to fluster him. He certainly couldn’t put it past you. It worked. Oh, it definitely worked. Now, all he could think about was how nice you looked in his colors which inevitably lead him to think about how nice you would look in his shirts, in his clothes- Damn it. He’s doing it again. 

Roz clears her throat. It is loud and rough and it makes all of you wince despite the already loud atmosphere of the cafeteria. Really what does Roz expect him to say? One, Tim wasn’t fully paying attention. How could he when you two are smooshed together on a cramped cafeteria bench with you still wearing your Red Robin hoodie? Tim’s surprised he isn’t keeling over. Two- 

 

“See! Even our darling-” Tim’s brain short circuits. “Space Cadet can’t even defend your bullshit,” you laugh reaching over to Roz’s drink leaning a little too close to Tim’s face. He can almost feel the heat radiating off your skin. 

 

If I lean in just a little more, I could probably…

 

“It isn’t bullshit!”

 

“You’re right! Bullshit has more substance-”

 

“Sooooo, what’s with all the space nicknames for Tim? When do I get one?” Steph asks casually, popping another of Tim’s fries into her mouth. 

 

Has he even eaten any of his fries? It’s almost gone and he’s eaten at most one.

 

You choke making a pained noise, likely due to said carbonated drink going into your nostrils (and possibly your lungs), as you turn away. Your neck visibly red from where Tim is sitting. Based on the sparkle in Steph’s eyes, she can see it too. A manic grin spreads on Roz’s face wide enough that Tim legitimately worries that it’ll split her face wide open. A shrill sort of giggle escapes her which has you whipping your head to her direction to scowl at her. It does absolutely nothing to deter the sheer glee on her face as she sneers back to you. Some secret conversation passes between the two of you. Tim and Steph watch in slow motion as mortification creeps on to your face. 

 

Suddenly (not really), Tim’s thankful that his only sister is practically a saint. At least compared to the horror that is Roz. 

 

Actually, now that he thinks about it, you have a plethora of space-themed nicknames for him when you aren’t busy calling him whatever endearingly aggravating name Steph came up with that week. 

 

Cosmo

 

Space Case

 

Space Nuts

 

Rocket Man

Martian Manhunter

 

ET

 

Marvin (the Martian)

 

And your favorite, Cosmonaut.

 

At first, he figures it was because of his obsession love for Star Wars and Star Trek but no, that couldn’t be it since you had started calling him that long before you two ended up marathoning the entirety of Star Trek instead of working on your project. He can still remember just how engrossed you looked while watching as you hugged your knees to your chest leaning forward as you waited for the next episode to start up with bated breath. Your features highlighted by the glow of the laptop screen making it very easy for Tim to memorize the contours and angles of your expression. Yet another moment Tim really wanted to capture with a photo. You even did your mouth twitch thing without noticing.

 

 He really wanted to just keep an entire album of all the different expressions you made. Wait. That sounds weird. Does it sound weird? It probably does.

 

 Then again, maybe you called him those because of just how much of a weirdo he was. He couldn’t blame you if you did. But he found that highly unlikely. Sure, you can be mean at times (a lot of times) but you were too oblique for that. Years in customer service made sure of that. Your jabs were usually of the subtler, more needling variety. The type that makes you pause for too long.  Plus, you said every nickname with a fondness that made his heart skip a beat. It was like when you called Roz or Steph ‘Fucker’. Maybe a little warmer. Or he could just be imagining that. Probably. Hopefully not. It was hard to get the honey-sweet way you said them out of his head.

 

Maybe they were just jabs. Lighthearted one. They could have just had easily been comments on just how much he spaced out. Tim has a tendency to live in his own head and it shows especially when he’s stressed or tired or both. Sometimes he would completely shut down as a result of excess anxiety. He can still remember the number of times he had let his anxieties run rampant letting them drag him away from the moment. His breaths were too quick to back then. He felt like he was gonna faint but then you just smiled at him like you were there for him which as it turned out you were. You gently squeezed each segment of his fingers until his breaths slowed. Even when he did fully calm down, you didn’t relinquish his hand. You held them firmly in your own even as you looked entirely unsure of what to do and what to say. You didn’t whisper the usual ‘you’re ok’ or the classic ‘you’ll be fine’. No, you just sat there with him quietly. Letting his feelings ebb and flow as he needed them to. 

 

Tim really isn’t sure what he did to deserve even knowing someone like you but he would do it again and again if it meant being able to stick close to you. 

 

Roz, ever the agent of chaos, throws a conspiratorial smile around the table like a flail. You look like you’ve been hit by one.

 

“Sorry, Steph. You won’t get one,” she says glancing at you. Steph pouts before she and Tim follow Roz’s gaze expecting you to glower or snarl or get up to deck her. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time. You just kind of sit there frozen and mortified with a face that simply says ‘Oh. God. This is happening.’. All you can really do is mouth a ‘fuck you’. This obviously pleases Roz. Say what you will about Roz, but there is abso-fucking-lutely no denying that she is petty as hell when it comes to revenge. Nothing is sacred to this woman. Nothing.

 

“Why’s that?” Steph asks innocently, smiling around her bendy straw also enjoying this rare chance to torment you. 

 

“I’m so glad you asked!” Roz answers her voice twisting into a horrifying facsimile of a daytime talk show host. You peel your arm away from the backrest and place your arms over your head and neck as you do in an earthquake drill bracing for impact. By the way, you were shaking, you’d think there was an actual earthquake. Your reasoning can’t be that stupid. 

 

“My dear Stephanie-” Steph scrunches her nose at the overly sweet tone Roz lathers on her name but makes no move to interrupt. “(y/n) only uses space-related nicknames for people they think are- and I quote- ‘waaaaaay outta their league’,” You let out a pained groan and Steph’s face unfurls as she lets out the loudest snort, loud enough to draw the attention of several tables around them. 

 

Tim’s mind is still reeling, still trying to process what Roz just said. 

 

Him?

 

Out of your league? 

 

Excuse him, isn’t it the other way around? 

 

What the hell? 

 

“Tim, for the love of Alfred, please unhear that,” you plead wetly, parking your head out just enough for Tim to see just how red your face has gotten. “God, please unhear it or I might just die,” Tim kind of didn’t doubt that you would. Steph somehow laughs even louder at this. Roz, not one to miss pouring salt in the wound, laughs along with her. You look like you wanted to implode out of existence.  You could certainly try but Tim seriously doubts the universe is kind enough to let you escape. 

 

Yeah, Tim’s brain has officially left the building. He’ll be back at 9 o’clock sharp tomorrow. Promise. 

 

“You mean to tell me that-” Steph chokes, unable to control her laughing fit. “-You’re telling me that you’ve been watching them pine for each other for over a year now and you just let them?!” Steph wheezes still holding her stomach.  

 

Roz looks offended and makes a whiny little noise. “Weeeell, technically I offered to wingman-”

 

“YOU WERE GONNA CHARGE ME FIFTY BUCKS,” 

 

“Hey, matchmaking is hard,”

 

“It isn’t worth fifty bucks!”

 

“You’re right! It is worth so much more,”

 

“God, I hate you,” you groan into the table. 

 

“God can’t help you now, kid,”

Tim frowns, mind backtracking to dissect the information. Apparently, his brain decided to clock back in. 

 

They knew. Even Roz ‘I don’t give a shit what you do as long as it doesn’t affect me’ Andrada, noticed. Was he that obvious?

A year? Wait. No. Over a year. They knew about this for over a year. 

Lastly, what do you mean each other?! As in mutual? Mutual pining? 

As if reading his thoughts, you ask “Wait… what do you mean each other?”

 

Roz blinks at you not entirely sure if you’re being funny. When you give her a look, she slumps back in her chair. “I’m related to a dumbass,”

 

“That you are. Speaking of dumbasses-” Steph whips her attention to Tim giving him a shit-eating grin.”-You said you were waiting for the perfect opportunity to ask (y/n) out, right?” Steph waves her hands doing jazz hands as she points at your still dumbstruck figure. She’s smiling as if she was the world’s best wingman at the moment.

 

 Tim suppresses a groan. “This isn’t exactly how I pictured it,”

 

Roz reaches into her pocket and produces a lighter. Grabbing the last of Tim’s fries and lighting it. “There. Mood lighting. Do the thing.”

 

“Ah yes, because surely the scent of burning potatoes is gonna sweep (y/n ) off their feet,”  Tim said flatly crossing his arms. He knows he’s definitely focusing on the wrong thing but as with all things it was easier to procrastinate. This is especially true when you’re afraid of the outcome.   

 

Roz huffs, waving the fry to extinguish it and muttering something about beggars and choosers. “Trust me kid that isn’t hard to do. Besides, did you not hear the part where I quoted (y/n) about you being ‘outta their league’,” You open your mouth to protest but slam it shut when Roz gives you a lopsided grin looking like she had a mountain of dirt on you which she likely did. He was definitely thankful that she has never met his family. He’s pretty sure Gotham wouldn’t survive. 

 

“How could I possibly be out of (y/n)’s league. I- I don’t- I mean- I’m not-”

 

Your body twists his way fast enough that he’s sure you either have whiplash or a twisted spine. Your eyes are set on him glowering as if he’d said something wrong. He’s pretty sure he didn’t although he did have a talent for putting his foot in his mouth. Your jaw is set tight, your teeth almost grind. He could see the tight hitch in your shoulders. He is 100% sure you’re going to deck him. 

 

“Do you want it listed alphabetically or what?”

 

“What?”

 

“Structure it like an argumentative essay. Speak nerd.” Roz instructs, earning her the full force of your glare. Your face pinches even more. Maybe this was the part where you implode. 

 

You suck in a calming breath before turning back to Tim. 

 

“Timothy Jackson Drake-Wayne, you are a fucking moron, and here’s why:” Taking another breath, you turn to face him fully your cheeks reddening but you press on either from pure unadulterated spite or determination. 

 

“You quite literally co-run a multibillion-dollar corporation. You’ve been doing that since you were seventeen apparently. You know several languages and you are not only fluent but proficient. You’re well versed in an insane amount of fighting styles. You are the smartest dumbass I know-” 

“Preach!” Steph jokes. 

 

“-You can basically operate any machinery I put in front of you. I have no doubt you can Macgyver one up if you fucking wanted. You could hack into any system you want just as a joke. You could probably throw the entire global economy into the toilet just for shits and giggles. Need I go on?”

 

Tim looks at you wide-eyed and speechless. You shrink a little as he continues to gape at you but you keep looking him in the eyes daring him to refute your claims. Really what was there to say? As much as he wants to come up with something witty to snap back at you, his chest is too crowded with warmth from the absolute sincerity of your voice. He knows you didn’t set out to make him fall deeper in love with you but he feels like he’s in free fall with your gravity pulling him downwards. Tim can feel the heat rising to the tips of his ears. 

 

You shrink again, your mouth twitching. “I-” Another calming breath. “I said too much. But my point stands!” The infinitesimal gap he felt between the two of you practically vanished. Still, he could do nothing but stare. Words fail him in the most inopportune moments even when you look so desperate for any kind of response.  You swallow thickly looking like you think you’ve ruined everything when the fact was you haven’t. Quite the opposite really. Tim feels like he could take on the entirety of Gotham’s rogue gallery right now. Still, his brain was drawing a blank. 

 

“Mood,” His brain has short-circuited and is now beyond repair. His palm is in his face before he even sees your reaction. You give him an entire speech about how great he is and all he can say is ‘mood’. Looking over at Steph and seeing her phone on her hands, he can tell she’s already transcribing the events to the group chat. Well, It can’t get any worse. 

 

You giggle snort eyes slamming shut from the force of your laughter. Joy suffuses throughout your tense body, loosening your tense muscles. “Thank you for proving my point,” you say between gasps.  

 

Tim falls victim to the infectious smile spreading on your face. He feels the warmth crowding his chest grow fuzzy. 

 

Now’s your chance.  

 

Tim takes a steadying breath. He rolls his shoulder back to straighten his posture. He waits for you to calm yourself a bit. When you do, he asks as confidently as he can “Are you free this Saturday?”

 

“No,”

 

Oh crap. He knew he screwed up. He feels cold seep into his feet.  

 

You shake your head at his panic. “I work Saturday, ET,”

 

“Oh, I-”

 

“I have all of Sunday off though,” A hum of excitement spreads through his limbs. “Name your time,”

 

“9 AM?”

 

You give him a look roughly translating to ‘You aren’t going to lose sleep over a date, so help me’.

 

“11:30?” He corrects. You smile and hum seemingly making the oxygen in the atmosphere disappear. He finds that he doesn’t mind, not when he feels like he’s floating on zero gravity. 

 

-------------------------------------------------

Bonus: 

 

Steph: Tim’s a dumbass😌🙃

Damian: Thank you for stating the obvious, Brown. 

Step: 🙄 Do you wanna hear about it or not?

Dick: 👀We’re listening…

Steph: (Y/n) made this whole speech about Tim and all Tim could say was 'mood' cycgu9c8ychic8td 5d8fcouv9ygpuv

Jason: F

Duke: F

Cass: F

Babs: F

Dick: F

---------------

Thanks for reading!!!!!

Taglist:

@idkmanicantenglish, @batarella, @batarella-mini, @birdy-bat-writes, @anothertimdrakestan, @founduebitches , @lucy-roo

[okayto]

Mini-Review: Love, Chunibyo & Other Delusions!

I’m so glad @littlestartopaz​ recommended this to me, because it was SO GOOD.

Yuta wants to start high school afresh: new school far from home, new classmates who don’t know he spent middle school acting out the fantasy of being the mysterious and magic “Dark Flame Master,” new him. But one of his classmates has delusions of her own, and after she accidentally discovers his embarrassing past, Yuta is unwillingly drawn into her life and a growing circle of friends with their own quirks.

The “chunibyo” of the title basically means “8th grade syndrome;” a phase in middle school where some kids inhabit and act out their own fantasy stories, positing themselves as dark magicians, magical girls, and other wielders of magical powers.

I had avoided this for a while, until it was specifically recommended to me, because honestly, it sounds embarrassing, right? It sounds like it’s gonna be an embarrassing manic pixie dream girl scenario. But what it actually contains is the story of how a mixed bag of students--some actively chunibyo, others not--become friends and develop very endearing close relationships, while arguing and frustrating each other because that’s what friends do.

Now, the idea of being the star of what’s essentially your own fantasy-action anime is embarrassing, but what’s notable is that the show doesn’t really hold the chunibyo characters up for mockery. Sure we might laugh at them, but hey--it’s funny to watch friends be silly together. And most viewers, just like some of the characters who have moved on from their chunibyo phases, probably easily understand the mix of soul-wrenching embarrassment and (mild?) fond sentiment that comes with remembering our middle school selves.

But let’s be real: the reactions the two former chunibyo students, Yuta and Shinka have to being reminded of middle school, are #RELATABLE

Rikka, our title chunibyo, in particular uses her fantasy in part to cope with grief, coming from an extended family that (without getting spoilery) didn’t help a young girl to deal with a very hard and life-changing time. Now that she’s in high school, her older sister blackmails Yuta (using an a voice recording of one of his chunibyo speeches) into helping deal with Rikka and things (like the cat she wants to adopt) that pop up.

One thing the show is very good at, though, is not making a single thing the reason behind a character’s chunibyo. One may have started their fantasy inspired by another person, or prompted by an event, but it’s also (while active) part of their personal narrative that influences how they spent their free time, how they see the world and keep blogs or diaries, etc.

But at the same time, they’re still teenagers, and their inner view of themselves...doesn’t always translate skills.

I said the show is primarily about friendship. A lot of that friendship is between Yuta and Rikka, but they accumulate a little group, mainly through Rikka’s attempt to start a magic club. Recruit 1: Kumin, a polite, quiet senpai with no chunibyo history or aspirations.

Kumin starts off seeming like a background character, but by the second season it’s clear she’s not just there for jokes about how she’ll take a nap anywhere. She’s perceptive, and genuinely enjoys watching the others act out their scenarios.

Compared to the other characters who are boisterous in their chunibyo activities (Rikka, Deko, Satone), or vociferously trying not to get drawn in to chunibyo activities (Yuta, Shinka), Kumin is happy to watch and offer encouragement, but she’s also willing to participate if a chunibyo scenario calls for a group.

Incidentally, the show does a really interesting thing where occasionally, we’ll be drawn “inside” the chunibyo world, seeing what Rikka/Deko/whoever see: a fantasy land, big magical weapons, anime-grade magical attacks. Occasionally we’ll also see what this “really” looks like--a couple people running around waving umbrellas at each other--but often we only get the fantasy version. It’s clear that Rikka and co. are legitimately on some level engaging in a shared imagination, and the times when a reluctant character (particularly Yuta or Shinka) willing steps in to the shared illusion are genuinely sweet.

Speaking of, Shinka (aka Morisummer) became one of my favorite characters. Like Yuta, she was chunibyo (”Morisummer the magician”); like Yuta, she chose a high school where she didn’t know anyone expressly so she could reinvent herself as a normal teen. And like Yuta, she’s getting dragged kicking and screaming into chunibyo again.

It would’ve been so easy to make her a bad character. She’s pretty, puts a lot of effort into being popular and likable at school, trying to keep up a good teen girl image, despite being fairly sarcastic at her core. And as loathe as she is to admit it, she likes her friends (even if she won’t admit they’re friends, even if half of them are actively chunibyo, even if she says she’s only hanging around so she can make sure all traces of chunibyo-Morisummer are erased from the internet).

Shinka gets drawn in to the group through Rikka’s apparently only pre-existing friend: Deko, a fellow chunibyo who follows Rikka (or “Eye of the Wicked Lord Shingan”) as her master, and is extremely devoted to the great magician Morisummer. So devoted, in fact, that she has several physical copies of Morisummer’s book containing all her wisdom...aka Shinka-Morisummer’s blog, which Shinka has tried to erase all trace of.

Needless to say, the two don’t seem to get along great.

Deko’s dedication to chunibyo and Morisummer irks Shinka; Shinka’s claim to be Morisummer irks Deko, who refuses to believe the great magician could ever be this sarcastic, mundane girl. Deko’s refusal irks Shinka, bringing out the sarcasm and bluntness Shinka tries to hide from the school at large.

Obviously, they actually become close friends, but heaven help you if you actually say so.

The entire series is an exploration of relationships, and Yuta’s developing closeness with Rikka (hey, we knew it was going to happen) is also sweet. He’s a genuinely likable boy, embarrassed by the vestiges of his former self he sees in Rikka, but often willing to meet her on her level, and both of them also learn/reaffirm the importance of doing things their way, and keeping both of them comfortable, rather than acting a certain way or performing specific acts just because their classmates think their relationship status mandates it.

Speaking of classmates--and I know this is getting long but I CAN’T HELP IT, I LIKED SO MANY ASPECTS OF THIS SERIES--the characters aren’t ridiculed at school. Sure, some people think they’re weird, but there’s no shunning, no arc involving teasing or bullies. Rikka’s often content as a loner, but when she attempts to join in a social circle, she’s welcomed. Shinka’s obsessed with reinventing herself and appearing normal and seems to think that otherwise she’ll be cast out, but multiple characters mention that others at the school notice how she behaves (oddly, on occasion) and there are no social repercussions. Truly nice for a show that has characters spending quite a lot of time in school.

Verdict

English dub? Yes, and it’s got strong performances. Rikka’s voice actor in particular does a fantastic job capturing the difference between chunibyo!Rikka’s confidence and command, and regular!Rikka’s, well, normal awkward teenageness. (Plus, I also found her lower-than animegirl-average voice enjoyable.) (Double plus, I honestly think her English voice is better than her original Japanese voice at showing the difference between her emotions and chunibyo/reality.) Deko’s VA is fantastic showing the enthusiasm of the 9th grader (and what enthusiasm, Deko is like the Energizer Bunny), and Shinka’s VA manages to show her alternating annoyance, cheerfully sweet ideal self, and organizized leader voices.

Visuals: Fine, and I really liked the chunibyo designs for each character’s chunibyo phase. The contrast between chunibyo-vision (giant magic weapons; mysterious lights, fantasy landscapes) and reality (an umbrella or soup ladle; a strip of lights taped to the floor; a local park) was really well done.

Worth watching? Yessss. It’s very manageable--two 12-episode seasons--and while each season contains its own arc (you could stop after the first one, but why), together they make an excellent story. Heck, I think the second season is equal to, if not better than, the first, because the friend group is well-established and even more fun to watch.

Where to watch (USA, as of October 2020): Netflix (dub, sub); Crunchyroll (sub), HIDIVE (sub & dub, plus OVAs and film)

Click my “reviews” tag below or search “mini review” on my blog to find more!

[trashyswitch]

Remus’s Death (spot)

After dealing with the Intrusive Thoughts debate, Logan deals with the gauze on his forehead, and seeks out revenge through childish means.

I KNOW IT’S SUPER LATE! But:

Tickletober day 11: Death Spot

Logan was washing his wound from the Ninja star with a wet paper towel. It didn’t really hurt, per say...it just annoyed him more than anything. While Logan was thankful Remus didn’t split his glasses in half, he was quite annoyed with knowing he’ll have to wear a gauze on his head for a week or so. What in his right mind, told him to throw a Ninja star at his head anyway? His impulsive temperament? His decision-making? Does he even HAVE ONE?!

“Janus, don’t you dare!” someone ordered.

“I’m not daring.” a voice (Likely Janus) mentioned.

“THEN WHAT IS THIS?!” the first person clarified.

“Acting on it!” Janus replied.

Logan’s eyebrow raised as he heard manic, yet bubbly laughter from the other room. It sounded like Roman’s laughter, but slightly more witch-like and cackly. Logan put some gauze tape onto his gauze-covered wound and walked out to the living room.

“STAHAP! NOHOHOT THEHEHERE! TOHOHOO TIHIHICKLIHISH!” Remus begged.

“Not where? Not here? Not on your ticklish neck?” Janus teased.

“CUHUHUT IHIHIT OHOHOHOUT!” Remus protested.

Remus tried to reach up and grab Janus’s hands that were behind his head. But in retaliation, Janus tickled his armpits one at a time to try and get Remus’s hands back down. “HEHEHEHEY! Ahahaharmpihihits TOOHOHO?! Ehehehevihil! EHEHEVIHIHIHIL!” Remus shouted back at him.

Logan watched in surprise. “Are you...tickling him?” Logan asked.

Janus rolled his eyes and looked at the ‘logical’ side. “NoOoOo...I’m DeCaPiTaTiNg HiM wItH a GuLLiTiNe! What does it look like, Logic?” Janus replied sarcastically.

“Ahahahaw, thahahat wohohould’ve beheen SIHIHICK!” Remus piped up as his neck and armpits were tickled.

Logan couldn’t believe it for some reason...Remus is ticklish?! Like...he’s actually ticklish! This is not even a lie! This in front of him, is proof that Remus is capable of being ticklish! Logan was losing his mind! The thing was, Logan knew that anyone could be ticklish. But it never really occurred to him that Remus could be tickled and brought into a giggly mess like this! Maybe it was because he always viewed Remus as a stinky man not to be messed with? Probably. But THIS! This opened Logan’s eyes to a brand new side of Remus: a playful, giggly side!

“Uuuuuh...Logan?” Janus asked, waving to him in slight worry. He looked like he had fallen into the void of space in pure awe.

Logan finally proved his down-to-earth status by smiling. “How ticklish is he?” Logan asked.

“SUPER ticklish! Double as ticklish as Roman!” Janus replied.

“HEY!” Roman shouted from his room.

Janus ignored him and continued to talk. “Anything specific you wanna know?” Janus asked.

Logan smirked evilly and crossed his arms. “Yes, actually…” Logan replied confidently as a revenge plot started formulating inside his brain.

Remus gulped and quickly tried to get out of Janus’s grip. But Janus was quick and had already summoned his 4 other arms to pin him back down! “Alright! Ask away, Logan.” Janus encouraged, noticing a revenge plot brewing in his head.

Logan smiled with an evil grin on his face. No one could quite believe it: His grin was more evil-looking than the cartoon Grinch’s grimace. It was HAUNTING.

“What ticklish spot makes him die of laughter?” Logan asked.

Janus’s smile dropped a little as he sensed some...chaotically villainous plots being made in his head. “You’re...not planning on killing him...are you?” Janus asked.

Remus squeaked like a mouse and tried to get out of Janus’s grip once again! “He’s gonna- HE’S GONNA KILL ME! HE’S GONNA TRY TO KILL ME!!!” Remus shouted, growing utterly terrified of him.

Logan dropped his evil grin. “Am I really scaring you that much?” Logan asked, putting on a somewhat neutral face. Janus nodded his head almost right away, while Remus slowly frowned.

“I-No! You’re n-not scaring me at all. Nope. Nadda. Not scary whatsoever.” Remus protested, trying to act confident and not at all nervous.

Logan’s smirk seemed to grow back, but not quite as threatening as before. “Oh Remus...You overestimate my power.” Logan quoted as he kneeled down to him. “I’m not gonna kill you.” Logan let him know. “But, I AM going to give you revenge for the ninja star wound.” Logan replied.

Remus’s fear started to lessen a little bit, but he still felt slight fear that Logan may increase his vengeful nature.

“So: where is Remus’s death spot?” Logan asked.

Janus smiled and started turning Remus around so he could reach his back. “Well that’s an easy one! Remus’s spot is very rare. It’s capable of making him scream! Meaning, it’s very fun to use against him.” Janus told him.

“Oh really? Do tell where it’s located.” Logan ordered with a smirk, crouching to Remus’s sitting height.

“Right on the top of his back.” Janus told him, before lightly drilling his thumb into the specific vertebrae.

“AaaAAAAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus screamed, falling backwards and flopping onto his back.

Logan’s eyes widened as a big smile grew onto his face. Remus’s voice seemed to reach oprah-levels of high, before falling back into his regularly high voice for his giggle fit. “Wow! Impressive voice range, Remus!” Logan reacted.

“I agree! Never heard a note quite as high before.” Janus added.

Logan walked closer to Remus and kneeled down to find the specific spot. “So where is it exactly?” Logan asked the snake.

Janus grabbed Logan’s hand lightly and brought it to the specific spot on his spine. “Alright: push.” Janus ordered. Logan nodded and tried pushing. But, Remus didn’t really jump. He shivered more than anything. So, Janus brought Logan’s finger a little lower and let him push again. Logan pushed his index finger down-

“Now HOLD-HEHEHEEEEEEEY!” Remus screamed and shook his body back and forth. Logan giggled and repeated the action. “STAHAHAP THAHAHAHAT! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus screamed again, kicking his feet and trying to lay himself down to cover up the tickle spot.

But Janus had wrapped his arms around Remus’s sides and kept his upper body up and his back exposed, while Logan drilled into the specific spot. It was very fun to see the reactions. “Who knew the lower neck could be so ticklish!” Logan reacted.

“PLEHEHEHEASE! PLEEEHEHEHEHEASE STAAAAHP!” Remus begged, kicking his feet in rapid fire speed.

Logan didn’t need to be told twice! He stopped his finger, retreated his hand and started calmly massaging the back of Remus’s scalp. Remus’s breathing seemed to calm down pretty quickly, and his laughter slowed down quite a bit as well. But little giggles continued to leave Remus’s mouth thanks to Logan’s scalp massages.

Logan quickly noticed these giggles and started to chuckle at him. “Another ticklish spot?” Logan asked, scratching his scalp a little more.

Remus’s giggles grew a little louder as he started curling his neck back. “Yehehehes...ahaha lihihihittle.” Remus replied.

“Awww! This is kinda cute!” Logan reacted.

“I know!” Janus reacted.

“Nohoho it’s nohohohot!” Remus giggled. “Ihihihit’s ehehehembaharassihihihing!” Remus confessed as a small blush started to fill his cheeks.

Logan shook his head. “Not really. It’s good to know that you’re capable of laughter that’s not completely manic.” Logan teased with a grin. “But I’m also glad to know you have a death spot as well…” Logan added before pushing into Remus’s upper spine with his thumb.

“WaitwAITWAHAHAHAHAHAIHIHIHIT!” Remus shouted in surprise, before falling backwards onto his back. “WHAHAHAT HAHAHAPPEHENED TOHOHO THEHE BREHEHEHEHEAK?! HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Remus shouted.

Logan ignored his question as his pride hit him. “Gotcha! Did I surprise you?” Logan asked with a giggle.

“YEHEHEhehehehehes!” Remus laughed.

“Perfect! That was exactly what I wanted to do.” Logan explained briefly, proud of himself for nailing the surprise.

“Funny how easy it is to scare you, Duke.’ Janus added as he lightly pushed Logan's hand away and started scratching on the death spot super lightly.

Remus squeaked and shivered at the feeling as titters and snorts left his mouth. Remus even wiggled around and squeezed his fists as he felt the giggles and laughter filling his lungs bit by bit. You could really tell this was a death spot because of how much Remus was slowly breaking from simple SCRATCHING on the spot. It was almost impossible to keep the giggles down, so he had to let out a couple giggles once in a while to make room for more.

Seeing this type of reaction, made Logan go insane. Was Remus...BEING CUTE?! Why was this so adorable?! WHO MANAGED TO TURN REMUS INTO THIS ADORABLE BEAN?! And WHERE DID THE ADORABLENESS COME FROM?! Has he always been secretly adorable under that dirty, deodorant-obsessed surface? Or did he somehow become visibly adorable just this one time? Logan had no clue. But Logan couldn’t help the smile that grew in reaction to the scene in front of him. It was just so cute!

Janus stopped being so soft on the Duke and suddenly blew a big raspberry on the deathly ticklish spot. “aaAAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA! DOHOHOHOHOHON’T DOHOHOHOHO THAHAHAHAHAHAHA-” Remus fell right into Janus’s chest, knocking both bodies down onto their backs like dominoes. Janus was laughing at Remus’s reaction as he tickled his neck, while Remus curled and struggled to push his tickly fingers away.

Logan giggled as he watched. It looked like the two of them were best friends just playing around with each other. It was overwhelming and adorable to see. “How long have you two been friends for?” Logan asked.

Janus paused the tickling and looked at Logan with a slightly childish grin. “At least a decade or two. We’ve stuck together for a very long time.” Janus replied.

When Remus could talk, he sat up excitedly as well. “Yeah! We’ve been best friends since we could cause havoc inside Thomas’s brain!” Remus added happily.

Janus giggled. “You’re not wrong about that…” Janus mentioned.

Logan giggled a little at Remus and Janus’s chaotic energy together. “You two are like the Lector and Graham of Thomas’s brain.” Logan explained.

Janus smiled widely. “Like, Hannibal Lector and Will Graham from the Hannibal series?” Janus clarified.

“OOOOH! Like the lovestruck gay couple filled with murder and empathy all in one?!” Remus asked. Then, Remus leaned into Janus and let out a sexy growl towards him.

Janus’s face flushed with red as he awkwardly looked away. Logan giggled at that and smirked.

He pointed at Janus. “The empath,” Then he pointed at Remus. “-and the cannibal.” Logan told them.

“Hm...sounds about right.” Janus reacted.

Remus gave Logan’s shoulder a push as he laughed and looked at him. His smile soon slightly fell as he looked at the gauze-covered wound on his forehead. “Hey...Logan?” Remus asked.

Logan tilted his head to the side. “Yes Remus?” Logan replied.

“I’m sorry I hit you with the ninja star earlier. I wasn’t really thinking. I was more in a prideful mood, but...I presented myself a little too much and went overboard. So, I’m sorry for hurting you.” Remus told him.

Logan smiled and felt his own wound. “It’s alright. It’s kind of funny now.” Logan reacted. “Do you wanna see the wound?” Logan offered.

“YES!” Remus shouted back.

Logan removed his bandage for a few seconds and showed Remus his Ninja star wound. Remus turned into full on examination mode and practically worshipped the wound! He summoned a magnifying glass to see the scabbing, he counted the little drops of blood that were seeping out, and Remus even looked at the deep transition from the skin to the dark wound.

“WHOOOOA! This is INCREDIBLE! I wanna see more!” Remus declared before summoning a scalpel.

Logan yelped in surprise and pushed the weapon-armed hand as for from his wound as possible. He put the gauze back on and stuttered as he tried to speak. “Uh- n-no. Please no. No way. Don’t-don’t do that.” Logan begged him.

“Okay. Fair enough.” Remus replied and unsummoned his scalpel.

It didn’t take long for Logan to start hanging out with Remus more. He gave Remus tips on his Goretober drawings, helped him put together special effects visuals and even helped him come up with descriptive words for his smut fanfictions!

But the one thing Logan managed to nail, was his role as matchmaker! Logan managed to get Remus and Janus together as a couple, and somewhat shipped them on the side. As a way to thank Logan, Janus and Remus invited Logan to be their third wheel in a lot of events, carnivals and road trips. While Logan was slightly hurt by the position, he did love the idea of being accepted and invited to social events. So, as long as Remus accepted his death spot as a tickle-worthy spot, Logan would accept his new third wheel status.

[doyouneedtorant]

april 29, 2019 (time unknown)

This is an old piece that I wrote for an English assignment. It is entitled “The Missing Fairy Princess”. 

It’s backpacking season at the University of Michigan. For those of you who are unaware of what that means, “backpacking” is the process of choosing classes to put in your “backpack” before registering for them at a later date. It involves many hours of obsessing over the course guide and worrying about what the future will look like if you do not get the classes that you need for your major. With that in mind, it’s an extremely stressful experience for someone as manic and worried as me. At this point in my college career, I am bombarded with adults telling me “Oh, you’re just a freshman! You don’t need to know what you’re doing with your life quite yet!” when in reality, this question of “what do you want to be” is single-handedly eating away at my heart. I am a person of many ambitions and yet in a school full of aerospace engineers, aspiring business men and women, medical students, and overachieving triple-majors, I feel as if my creativity has been pushed to the side for a more practical pursuit. In these times, I cannot help but look back at the young girl I used to be who wanted to be everything.

At my preschool culmination, the teachers all asked us what we wanted to be when we grew up. All the boys and girls said they wanted to be firefighters and police officers or dentists and doctors. Yet when it got to me, I said I wanted to be a fairy princess. One of the parents laughed at me and my dad essentially told them “Hey, if my daughter wants to be a fairy princess, she can. It’s more original and creative than being a police officer, like your kid.” Now, this is just something my father has told me over and over; I can only really trust him and his memory skills to assume that this retelling of the story is actually an accurate depiction of what happened. Same goes to the time that he told me that the mothers that led our Girl Scout group had to pull him aside, because during arts and crafts, I tried to make a mind-control device to brainwash the other girls. Although I can’t remember a single thing about these events, I’ve heard these stories so many times that I can seriously see them - well, at least in my own imaginative way. I see me shrieking “I want to be a fairy princess!” at the culmination and suddenly I’m in this cute, little purple fairy costume laughing as my dad has his altercation with the other parent. I can vividly see this “mind-control device,” a black-and-white pinwheel that spins as if I was some engineer who could have actually made that at the age of eight. Over the years, these tales have deeply embedded into me that I could be whatever I wanted to be and I had the drive and ability to be or create something inspiring. And at that young age, I could have been a fairy princess. I could have made a mind-control device. And as I got older, I found myself in love with so many things - writing, singing, teaching, learning, math, English, science, animals. I wanted to be everything and when you’re eight, the idea of being everything seems achievable.

Whether or not those stories were true, there’s clearly a path of imaginative behavior that trailed off from then. Starting in elementary school, I was starting to write my own books. Yes, crappy by default, but true pieces of art in the eyes of my younger self. (My debut story was Pretty and Paris, a book about two poodles that discovered they were sisters and then one was kidnapped by a jealous ex-best friend who planned to sell her on the black market. Iconic.) I was making short films about pineapples with jobs and reality shows about my stuffed animals. I started writing music about the food in my fridge and the boys I thought were cute in my second grade class. I learned how to play the guitar and piano by my own hand and I realized I loved to write poetry. In high school, I was in theatre and started writing plays and when adults told me they were good, it encouraged that childlike creativity that had always followed me throughout the years. I was bound for amazing things and that eight-year-old girl could look in the bathroom mirror and recognize it.

But now I am 19. And, yes, that’s ridiculously young and I am fully aware how bizarre it is for me to be saying I can no longer be creative or that I cannot be whatever I want to be. But at this point in my life, there definitely is a limit on the possibilities. I came into college thinking that I would take all the classes I was interested in, that I would be in multiple clubs, that I would have internships lined up for me. But that’s not actually how reality works. There are GEs (the “general education” credits that the school swears you must take to be educated) and prerequisites that you are forced to take as stepping stones. You have a job because the cost of living in a college town is extremely exaggerated, so now the time you have for clubs is cut short. There are internship opportunities over summer but you are so tired from a demanding semester that you cannot even imagine putting in a minimal level of effort until you have to next semester. I think most importantly that the biggest shock was that if you do not do certain tasks, you absolutely cannot be whatever you want. If you do not take Biology 172, you cannot be a doctor; and if you decide halfway through your college career that you want to pursue medical school, the amount of time and effort that you would need to just catch up with the intense checklist of classes for the MCAT would probably kill you. Not to mention if you want to attend graduate school at all, the competitive nature of students today requires you to get an extremely high GPA, despite the fact that classes are gradually becoming more difficult and teachers praise themselves when they fail a whole class with an unreasonably unfair exam.

Not to mention, the stigma around being a humanities major is hard to avoid. My friends joke about me being homeless after college when my useless degree creates a jobless and unsuccessful life. Growing up in Los Angeles and attending a performing arts school warped my view on how people saw art, especially in a school that worships STEM. Where I came from everyone was going to be some sort of creative when they grew up: a performer, a dancer, an actor, a photographer, a playwright. And to be honest, I believed that. I saw my peers achieving great things while they were still seniors in high school and it made that dream seem much more realistic. With that in mind, that creative eight-year-old flew two thousand miles away from her home, destined to achieve these amazing feats, just to be told creativity is only allowed when it is flirting with practicality. Maybe I could have gone to a liberal arts school instead or somewhere more understanding of arts-oriented students, but how can one do that when the University of Michigan has so much to offer? An amazing reputation, a sense of pride that no other school could match, an incredibly talented and intelligent body of students that collaborate to increase the chance of success, a campus that looks like it was plucked from a catalog. I mean, it was a no-brainer. I knew any program I decided to go into would be academically rigorous and extremely insightful. Now, do not get me wrong, the humanities classes I have attended were exactly that, but the fear of not doing enough has become a very heavy weight on my shoulders. Everyone I meet is a future doctor, engineer, material scientist, epidemiologist, dentist, or nurse. Where were all the fairy princesses?

I decided that I needed to do more and went into what I like to call: “Phase I: I am going to be a doctor!” The idea of becoming a pediatrician was attractive; I always adored children, I wanted to find a career where I helped people, medicine and health continuously peaked my interest. So, with this in mind, I launched my pre-med phase and started to plan out the next three years of my life, the classes I would take, the medical schools I liked, what internships I would do over summer. (It’s sufficient to say I am an overthinker.) I registered for, you guessed it, Biology 172 and a statistics class, making my way through the advised pre-med checklist. Things were going pretty smoothly and then I failed two exams, started missing lectures, and had to explain to my father that for the first time in five years, my grades were not amazing. I came to the conclusion that the root of my stresses was Biology 172 and I withdrew from the class two- thirds through the semester.

No more doctor.

Right now, I am looking at pre-health or pre-social work, trying to find something realistic to pursue and the question “Where are all the fairy princesses?” haunts me. I like to ask people what they wanted to be when they were a kid and what they would want to be now, but often the answer makes me sad. My friend who just graduated with a degree in sociology told me he wanted to be a teacher when he was younger. Teachers, unfortunately, are not paid well and so many kids turn their cheek to education, unless it means becoming a professor at a high- paying university. My friend instead got his degree in sociology, but has no idea what he would ever do with it, so he is applying for reception jobs at local hospitals and clinics instead. Another friend told me he wanted to grow up to be a basketball player, but the skill required and the sheer realistic nature of the dream steered him in a different direction. If money or impracticality remained out of the picture, my dream would be performing on Broadway, or being a cast member on Saturday Night Live, or winning a Tony for Best Play, or singing my own songs in front of a giant crowd. However, the fear of failure or not having something to fall back on is honey for my anxiety.

Once again, I want to make it extremely well known that I understand how young I am. I am going to live a long, luxurious life and the worries I have now will all fit into place, and in my fifties I will be laughing with my husband and children about how silly my troubles actually were. But for now, they are real and they are daunting. It feels like everyone knows what they are doing or they are committed to suffering through the difficult classes they need to succeed. And frankly, I’m not. Every time I look in the mirror, I still see my younger self in the reflection - a purple fairy dress on, stuffed animal in hand, smile plastered to my face - and it is hard to not feel disappointed. I want to look back at that little girl and tell her that we did it. I want to tell her we became everything we dreamed of - a writer, a performer, a doctor, a veterinarian, a teacher, a psychologist, an artist, a chef. And although I cannot predict the future, I understand some of these options have been eliminated just by major choice.

To tell sixteen-year-olds that they need to have some basic understanding of what they want to do with their lives by the time they apply to college is utterly ridiculous. The way we have been taught to push ourselves to absurd heights has left no time to breathe in between class breaks. My fellow classmates are either not participating in any social scene so they can study, or they are engaging way too much and developing some form of alcoholism or drug problem before they hit twenty. Those of us who plan to go to graduate school have stopped learning in order to save space for short-term memorization, when in reality, we all went to college in hopes of learning more than we did in high school. No one seems to be super happy about what they are doing in college because despite the fact that adults have raved on about how in college you get to study exactly what you want to study, the opposite has proven itself true. I may be a speck of dust on Michigan’s campus but the alarming rate of students that feel the same way tells me that something is wrong with the whole process. During these next three years, I hope to catch a glimpse of my younger self by diving into activities and classes that excite me, but I worry that one day, she’ll fade away and I’ll just have to wait for my dad to tell me more stories about her.

[nat-20s]

Top 5 Breakdowns over David Tennant- any fandom/show/ play you've seen? I really liked the dw one you did, just hoping you could expand over/ include other things he's been in.

Oh anon you are QUITE the enabler thank you.

So this is like half actual breakdown list and half just like David Tennant recommendations in general because I love that funky little scot.

+1. This isn’t going on the official list because I already did the previous list you mentioned (i’m glad you liked it, btw!!!) but yeah. Doctor Who. He plays the doctor in a very fuckin uhh mercutial way (he plays a lot of characters that way and I am 100% enamored by it every fuckin time he just does it SO WELL AUGH) and like highs were so high and the lows were so low and he was so FURIOUS AND CRUEL but also so GENTLE AND KIND and like oof!! The multifacetedness bitch!!!! That’s what it’s all about babey!!!

5. Good omens. I mean, duh. There was no fucking way I was gonna survive good omens. Like, honestly, even without miss tennant I wouldn’t have survived it because HA HA HA HA H O L Y SHIT MY FAVORITE BOOK FOR THE LAST DECADE WAS GETTING AN ACTUAL SCREEN ADAPTATION I GENUINELY DID NOT THINK WE WOULD EVER BE HERE THIS SHIT IS LIT. but then but THEN it was like. The way that he portrayed crowley definitely fit into a particular niche that david tennant KILLS. Like god okay I could spend an whole fucking essay on this point so I’m gonna distill this down to just. THE moment that I was like “okay okay okay okay fuck I’m GOING THROUGH IT” was when his voice cracks as he tells aziraphale that he lost his best friend because like in context OOF and out of context I have been Pavlovian trained for the past decade to Utterly Lose My Shit when David Tennant is like this close to crying and he expresses that with his whole body THE ASSHOLE! LET ME REST. I THOUGHT I WAS OVER THIS MISTER!!

4. The Escape Artist. Lesser known (I think?), but a VERY GOOD miniseries! The tone is much darker, and he’s a much more serious character. Similar vibes, role wise, to broadchurch. I’m not sure how much rewatch value it has but watching it for the first time had me like MISSION STATUS: SICK!!!! It’s like a cat and mouse mystery and like. I’m not gonna go to in depth into the story because I think it’s more enjoyable to go into it not knowing much and too me it was one of those things that took like 3 hours to watch all of and a full week or two to like. Process. Also I’m not usually one for drama and I was ABOUT it so I would recommend!!!

3. JESSICA JONES (season 1). Holy FUCK dude. Definitely his darkest and most evil role, and the subject matter is VERY heavy and I definitely would NOT recommend it for everyone because it could be, how you say, triggering as fuck or even just because it is incredibly dark and that might not be your thing. Funnily enough, it’s DEFINITELY not my thing, personally, I tend to avoid narratives about sexual assault because so many of them are, uh, ya know, bad, but Jessica Jones season 1 really is done FANTASTICALLY! The David Tennant breakdown was just a level of cognitive dissonance because I had never seen him play like a VILLAIN villain. I mean, yeah, he was Barty Crouch Jr., but that was for like 30 seconds and while the dude was creepy there was a layer of campy over the topness that is present in most fun fantasy franchises. I remember when he was cast as the purple man me and my parents were like. Yeah he’ll obviously crush the role because he’s talented but in the back of our minds we’ll probably still be thinking of like the doctor and I wonder if we can fully accept him playing the role. Yeah there was fucking NONE OF THAT. When he played Purple Man I never ONCE thought of his other roles and I didn’t even, like, think of David Tennant, ya know. I was just like oh shit this man is evil and terrifying and I want him dead! Please die!!! And yes, I know that that’s how acting works or whatever but also ACTING ya know!!! Of any of the roles on this list this one definitely made me be the most like SHE HAS THE RANGE because I really think it highlights how INCREDIBLY GOOD at his job he is!!! I have not ever rewatched Jessica Jones season 1 though because while it is honestly like a triumph of television it is also A Lot to deal with and I am very rarely in the kind of mindset where I’m able to watch it. But yeah. David Tennant knows what the fuck he’s doing and it is very good.

2. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING BABEY. Literally I knew nothing about the play or why I should care but the promo material was like. Catherine Tate and David Tennant are costars again and I was like OKAY SIGN ME THE FUCK UP HELL YEAH HELL YEAH HELL YEAH. For real I think on screen chemistry Catherine Tate and David Tennant are one of if not just straight up my favorite duo of all time. They are just so DELIGHTFUL and ENCHANTING and BEWITCHING and basically I want them to costar in everything ever. @azirafeathers was like “sherlock holmes adaptation where she’s sherlock and he’s watson” and I haven’t stopped thinking about that since!!! I would give my left thumb or at least like a solid $60 to see that. Like PLEASE it would be PERFECT. I LOVE THEM. And god this production of much ado is definitely like. “Here’s Benedick and Beatrice. They’re two chaotic dumbass bisexuals that are like fives on the kinsey scale and they fall in love much to their surprise” and it’s TERRIFIC. That’s exactly what I like to see. Like it’s set in the 80s and the set design? The visual gags? The costumes? The soundtrack? THE PHYSICAL COMEDY? It all SLAPS. David Tennant really balances “fun and funky slut” and “utterly PINING idiot” so fucking well. I have said it before and I will say it again David Tennant peaks when Catherine Tate is being mean to him. Also really iconic to give him the role that is like the only man in the play that is (after a bit) CHUGGING his respect women juice. I mean LOOK at this utter buffoon.

I’m in love. This play made me a proud morosexual. Plus it’s all FREE ON YOUTUBE THE NEXT TIME YOU HAVE THREE HOURS AND WANT TO HAVE A GOOD FUCKIN TIME GO WATCH MUCH ADO!!

1. H A M L E T. So imagine that you’re 14 and it’s 3 am and you’re casually watching David Tennant’s hamlet on youtube or at least the parts they put up and you’re painting stars on your ceiling with glow in the dark paint and it makes you realize that you have an excess of black bile and a melancholic temperment and you’ll understand why, while this might not be my all time favorite david tennant role (though it definitely is high up on the list) , this is absolutely my number one David Tennant Related Breakdown. Hoo boy. This probably doesn’t come as a shock to literally anybody that knows me irl bc I Will Not shut up about Hamlet and it is this productions fault. Different people will respond differently too it, and I’m definitely 1000% biased because a: I love him and b: it was the first production I ever watched and it’s what got me On My Bullshit, but this production honestly makes me like. Get Hamlet. Or not get hamlet, personally, as a character, we’re never meant to fully understand him honestly, but it made me understand the ALLURE of the play. I watched it and I was like oh. Yeah. Okay. I can see why people have been obsessed with this for 400 years. I know why it’s considered one of the greatest roles and one of the greatest plays of all time. And I went absolutely feral for it. It solidified Horatio permanently as one of my all time favorite characters in anything ever. David Tennant has this tendency to put manic and desperate energy into the characters that he plays, and that of course works extremely well for hamlet. Plus, like, he plays characters that are drowning, that need the assistance and kindness of love to try and float, and even with that might not be able to keep their heads above water, and the characters that are opposite him are basically always wonderful. Because I am deeply deeply predictable, the core dynamic of Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship is probably like THE most appealing and interesting and important aspect of the play to me, and Peter de Jersey (who is absolutely INCREDIBLE in this production) and David Tennant pull it of breathtakingly beautifully. Every time I watch this I have to lie down for a while. Every time I THINK about this I have to lie down for awhile. So, yeah, number one David Tennant based breakdown is over his hamlet.

Honorable mentions

this gifset-I have not seen what this is actually from but it made me have a conniption. I’m in love with her. She’s my idealized self. I don’t know what to do with myself. I spent 5 hours looking at this now. What the fuck. 

The Decoy Bride- I didn’t have a breakdown over it BUT it is a recommendation. Very silly rom com, very much a comfort movie like music and lyrics or singing in the rain for me. Great for sleep overs or rainy sunday afternoons. 

Richard II- I haven’t seen it but based on one (1) clip and some stills I would be lost in the sauce for a week after a viewing. 

Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger- watch nativity 2 danger in the manger. 

Fright Night- jesus fucking CHRIST mister tennant went full slut

Casanova- Mister Tennant Goes Full Slut part 2- has blue colored contacts and it’s weird

[foxofthedesert]

Arrow FF | DinahSiren

My take on Laurel/Dinah post-Star City Slayer.  Does not follow canon because, let's face it, canon is shit.  Arrow writers/producers, especially Uncle Guggie and his crew of Green Arrow and Black Canary legacy manglers, the middle finger I'm holding up right now is for you.  Fuck you all.  Oliver Queen and Dinah Laurel Lance both deserved better.  Yes, I am bitter.  Sue me.

Click here to read/comment on this hot mess on AO3.

Dinah wakes with a startled gasp from a dreamless sleep.  Instantly popping up to a seated position from where she’d been laying on her back, she frantically surveys the inky darkness of her bedroom. Instincts firmly in the driver’s seat, her heart hammers a frenzied staccato rhythm against her sternum.  Upon finding no visible sources of danger in the immediate vicinity, she strains her ears to listen for further evidence of whatever something or someone had quite literally gone bump in the night.  Again when no signs of an intruder are evident, her panic-fueled hyper-awareness dissolves into pure frustration.  For the first time since the incident, she had been sleeping soundly without a trace of the pestering nightmares that play behind her eyes every time she succumbs to exhaustion.

Probably that damn alley cat again.  Growling irritably, she flops back down against her plush mattress, determined to salvage the night if at all possible.  Tomorrow morning, she will deal with the pesky stray that has been poking around her place the past few months.  Shouldn’t be too much trouble to set up a trap and then call the pound to deport the striped, four-legged annoyance from her premises.  

Thanking God for finally deciding to cut her a break, it doesn’t take long – perhaps a minute or two – before her eyelids begin to grow delightfully heavy again.  A weary smile stretching her lips, she wiggles happily against the mattress and digs her head into her pillow in anticipation of some long overdue rest.  She is just about under for the second time when she hears it again.

*Thump*

Her previous frustration returns with a gusto, and being already primed from the previous interruption rapidly accelerates into anger as she throws the covers aside and slides out of bed.  Operating on autopilot, she snatches her gun out of her nightstand and then pads barefoot through her room as quietly as possible so as to not scare the damn cat away before she can at least get off a shot.  She will gladly navigate the radioactive professional fallout of discharging her weapon in the middle of the night against a harmless, mangy furball if it means that she doesn’t have to do this again tomorrow.

Upon reaching the door, she toes on her slippers and steadies her gait. Her pulse thrums in her veins, overeager as she is to have a go at the malicious, runty little mongrel that keeps rooting through her trash and leaving bloated dead mice at her door.  But just as she grasps the door handle, she hears another sound that stops her cold – a distinctly human sound that emanates from just outside her front door.  

Alone in the dark, her throat tightens painfully as she is suddenly transported to another time and place, a warped repository of one man’s psychotic obsession with Oliver Queen in which she almost met an ignoble death.  All of its own accord, her free hand idly comes up to brush against the ugly scar marking where Stanley Dover gave her a grisly alternative grin.  Heart thudding manically in her chest, she brings her gun up to chest level at the door as she slowly and resolutely takes the final steps toward the thin threshold separating her from what may very well be her doom.  

Terrified though she may be, Dinah is equally stubborn and unwilling to let fear dictate her actions.

Once close enough to grasp the door handle, she risks peering through the curtains for a glimpse at the potential perp.  All she can make out through the glass and low light of the alleyway are abstract shadows and the vague shape of her neighbor’s lamp blazing through their unobstructed window.  Another thump just as she replaces the curtains scares her so badly she wrenches backward as her fingers tighten around the grip of her gun and her finger settles unsteadily over the trigger.  Steeling herself for an invasion, she braces against a second attempt on her life in as many months.  

All at once, time slows down to a torturous crawl.  Her pulse rings in her ears, deafening and maddening and distracting as sweat beads at her temples and dampens her palms.  The world narrows into a pinprick field of view, reduced down to the six feet between her and whatever boogeyman might be lurking just outside her home.  Nothing happens for the longest time.  Everything is silent save for the cacophonous drumming of her heartbeat against her rib cage and the slight metallic rattle of the gun in her tremulous hand.  The moment is so unbearably fraught with danger and laden with sickly fear that she feels like she is about to crawl out of her skin.

And then, when she least expects it, she hears something that makes her blood run cold for a completely different reason than before.

“Please, no!  Don’t.  Not her...please, no!”

The slurred, delirious, plaintive pleas are uttered loudly enough that Dinah can hear them distinctly.  Instantly her terror subsides only to be replaced with a coil of dread that turns her stomach sour.  

As a cop who has been involved in her fair share of fatal shoot outs and witnessed the aftermath of senseless tragedy, she recognizes the sound of a human heart breaking.  She relaxes, if only somewhat marginally.  If anything whoever is currently outside her door more resembles a wounded animal uttering pathetic death whines than an ax murderer on the prowl or a thief surveying a mark or a miscreant hoodlum skulking about for some innocent soul to terrorize.  

Still, she can’t help but conjure up scenarios as to what she may encounter just outside.  Once when she was a beat cop, she was the unlucky first responder to a fatal domestic rampage and had to forcibly drag a mother half-mad with grief from the bodies of her young daughter and the mentally unstable partner that killed the girl and herself right in front of the poor woman.  If anything like that awaits her tonight, she would really rather stay inside.  Introducing herself to a reality which might shatter what’s left of her already fractured psyche does not seem like a wise course of action at present.

A heartbeat later, she hears the noise that woke her again followed by a strangled cry, neither of which she can ignore if wants to retain any semblance of her pride.  Cowering behind her front door may be the smart choice, but is not one she would ordinarily make.  Dinah has always been a fighter, has always confronted her demons head on rather than let them dictate her actions.  It’s the only way she knows how to cope, and she’s not about to go changing now just because some psychopath almost halfway cut her head off.

Screwing up her courage, she quickly throws the door open and immediately swings right toward the street the alleyway empties into.  Expecting to be greeted by some gruesome scene out of a horror movie, she is instead surprised to find nothing but the empty alleyway between her building and the neighboring complex.    Her brows furrow until deeply ridged as she peers down the length of the alley toward the street, gun aimed as she assesses her situation as trained by the US Government.  Poorly lit by the handful of ancient outdoor lights bolted in to the building’s exterior, she can’t make out every detail, but she can certainly see enough to recognize there is no evidence of anyone or anything having been in the vicinity.  The absence of such evidence naturally leads her to question her sanity.

Had she imagined it all?  Was she really still so spooked by what Stanley Dover did to her that she is overreacting to the most minuscule of stimuli?  Or could it be that she is still caught in the grips of some bizarre, hyper-realistic dream?  To find out, she pinches her hand as hard as she can and winces upon learning that she is indeed awake.  

Seeing as she is not imagining things and that she had most definitely heard an unarguably human voice, she settles in against the door frame with her gun steadied and aimed in the direction of the alley inlet. After drawing in a steadying breath, she waits.  

Just when she is about to give up and turn back inside, a tormented moan from behind reassures her that she is not going crazy after all while also startling her so badly she literally jumps.  Startled out of her wits, Dinah whirls around with her gun raised only to discover the lanky form of a woman sprawled on the ground less than five feet away.  Like a disoriented boot straight out of high school, she had forgotten to clear her nine o’clock – an unforgivable mistake that could so easily have gotten her killed.  

Berating herself for the uncharacteristic misstep, Dinah steps toward the inert form to investigate.  With her back pressed against the brick siding and her head turned so that Dinah cannot see it, it is impossible to make a positive identification, not that she requires one to know who this is.  The black boots, dark jeans, black leather jacket, mile long legs and curtain of golden hair are a dead giveaway.  

Dinah gasps as recognition dawns.  “Laurel?”  

Receiving no response from her breathy query, she carefully shuffles over and gingerly crouches next to the currently comatose District Attorney of Star City.  A quick tuck of honey blonde hair behind an ear sporting a plethora of piercings confirms that her nocturnal visitor is none other than Laurel Lance in the flesh.  

Of all the people to find in such at state at this hour, Laurel would have been the last on Dinah’s list.  

Whatever mysterious reason behind her presence, Dinah has only ever seen the woman as rumpled and anguished in the days following Quentin Lance’s death.  A pang of sympathy stirs her heart like it always does when she thinks of Laurel’s numerous losses.  

What Dinah knows of Laurel’s past is stocked by a gallery of ghosts stretching all the way back to before she was forming permanent memories, from her mother who died when she was still a baby to her Oliver whose premature demise was the impetus for her having uprooted from her Star City in a futile bid to obtain a fresh start.  Each death left behind a brand new section of scar tissue that accumulated until eventually engulfing the entirety of her heart.  Not long after, Black Siren was born.  

Having experienced the bitter draught of loss herself, Dinah has often wondered how the woman did not go completely bonkers after burying in the span of thirty-two years a total of three parents, an unborn baby sister, two foster siblings before she graduated high school, four close college buddies in a single day, a surrogate father, and the love of her life and then on top of all that was turned into a metahuman by a freakish explosion only to be captured and experimented on for number of years before a homicidal maniac finally set her free.  Had Dinah been subjected to half of those traumas, she thinks she might have been damaged enough to lose the will to live and soon thereafter swallowed a bottle full of sleeping pills or the barrel of the closest firearm she could get her hands on.  

Not Laurel, though, she thinks as she slowly and lightly smooths her fingers through the soft hair at Laurel’s temple.  She is unbreakable.  Indomitable.  A warrior.  A survivor through and through.  A headstrong, feisty, relentless boss bitch who would fight her way through hell just to spit in the devil’s face.

That thought turns Dinah’s expression into one of tender fondness as a smile curls her lips.  Quietly she studies features so fine and elegant and lovely that were carved as if solely to grace the covers of fashion magazines.  Caught up in her languid perusal, she soon finds herself slipping from the adrenaline rush of a life or death situation straight into the waiting arms of a helpless and hopeless crush that has developed over the past few months.  

Had someone told her a year ago that she would feel this way about Laurel or that she would be slowly introduced to a different side of the prickly blonde that was kind, considerate, sweet, hilarious, and devastatingly charming, she would have laughed that fool to scorn. And yet over the past several weeks she has discovered all of the above to be true.  And more.  

Since returning from DC, Laurel has almost daily visited Dinah bearing gifts of lunch, or coffee from their favorite joint between the station and courthouse, or dinner and a corny movie they would watch while eating on the couch like old friends.  At first Laurel’s persistence was beyond annoying, but as the days rolled into a weeks Dinah began to look forward to her frequent drop-ins.  The incrementally unguarded version of Laurel she has become acquainted with over this period is every bit as complicated as could have predicted.  She is entertaining but moody; her sarcasm is as boundless as her productive energy; she has a thirst for knowledge that is only rivaled by her passion for martial arts; she is a rabid fan of the Seattle Seahawks who yells at players, coaches, and referees and throws popcorn at the TV while they watch games together; she has an attention to detail that impresses the hell out of Dinah when it isn’t being used against her; and most importantly she is the unique brand of friend Dinah never knew she so desperately needed.  

This new dynamic they were building, peculiar as it seems considering their messy history, has been one of the few bright spots of Dinah’s short convalescence and subsequent readjustment to life after a highly traumatic injury.  Whether at work slaving over reports or lounging at home being a total potato, Laurel turning up unannounced is always the highlight of her day.  None of her other friends ever made her feel as appreciated and understood as Laurel does or ever made her laugh until her belly ached like Laurel does when she launches into one of her comical – and lengthy – diatribes about Super Bowl XL being rigged in favor of the hated Pittsburgh Steelers. Not even Vinny, as much as she loved him and painful though it is to admit, could warm her up from the inside out like Laurel’s honey-smooth voice does when it wraps so melodically around her name.

Honestly, that last realization was like a slap her in the face that woke her up to how rapidly evolving their relationship was.  In less than six weeks, they have gone from respectful acquaintances to friends to something...more.  And scary as the breakneck tempo of that progression is, Dinah has been sorely tempted of late to throw caution to the wind in an effort to define just what that something more is.  The sole impediment to taking that plunge is her own fear of what might happen if either or both of them screw it up.    

Still idly toying with silken strands of golden hair, Dinah is too wrapped up in her own musings to notice that Laurel is beginning to stir.  A prolonged groan at last alerts her to the change, and she breaks out of her own thoughts just time to watch Laurel’s face scrunch up in complaint over her awkward position.

“God. What the hell…?” Laurel slurs as her eyes begin to flutter open. They immediately widen when she realizes what happened.  “Shit.  I fell asleep.”

Dinah cocks her head in amusement.  “That you did.  Not in the most comfortable spot, either.”

Laurel has the grace to blush at the heavy subtext applied to Dinah’s comment.  They are both aware she has a perfectly luxurious bed back at her apartment she could have crawled into instead of passing out on the cold, hard asphalt.  

“I can explain...”

“Not here,” Dinah interrupts, then pushes off her haunches to stand. Once upright, she offers Laurel her hand.  “Come on.  Let’s go inside.  There’s no sense in you staying out here the rest of the night and it’s too late for you to go home.”

Taking the hand, Laurel allows Dinah to help her to her feet.  “If you’re sure,” she replies, brushing loose gravel off the seat of her extremely tight jeans, an action that draws Dinah’s gaze southward to a shapely rump her hands suddenly and inexplicably itch to explore.  “I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

Hastily averting her eyes from Laurel’s ass lest she get caught letching, Dinah crosses her arms over her chest and funnels her embarrassment into faux irritation.  “Probably should have thought about that before falling asleep outside my door.  You were having a nightmare or something.  Your thrashing against the side of the house woke me up.”

Laurel winces apologetically.  “Sorry.”

Swiftly deflating in the face of Laurel’s chagrin, Dinah shrugs neutrally. “It’s fine.  No big deal.”  The falsehood slips free so easily it causes her to wonder when it became acceptable behavior for her to lie to make Laurel feel better.  Probably about the same time you developed this silly little crush. Frustration mounting at her inability to curtail these surging feelings, she turns wordlessly to the door then starts back inside.  When she senses Laurel hesitate to follow, she pauses in the doorway and sighs dramatically.  “Oh, for God’s sake, woman.  Don’t be difficult. It’s too cold and late for me to deal with your stubborn ass. Just come in already before I actually get upset.”  When Laurel obeys, duly chastised, Dinah leads her into the living room where she plops down onto her couch before patting the cushion next to her. “Sit.”  

This time Laurel does at Dinah says without argument.  “I’m really am sorry I woke you,” she tells Dinah a bit later once they are both settled in and getting warmed up under a couple of fluffy throw blankets, Dinah beneath her well-worn red one while Laurel wraps herself in the one sporting the Seahawks logo that she brought over for their recently ritualistic Sunday afternoon football watching.  Wearing a guilty expression, her shoulders draw in tight. “I didn’t mean to.  Or to fall asleep like that.  Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

“Never mind that,” Dinah replies with a wave of the hand she’d left uncovered.  “I’m more interested what you’re doing here in the first place.  In the middle of the night.  Halfway across town from your apartment.”

The blush Laurel answers with betrays how humiliated she is at being caught in such a state.  Dinah is a bit perturbed at the thought that zips through her brain right then that Laurel has the perhaps the most adorable blush she’s ever seen and ought to wear it more often.  It is followed by a brief internal freak out seeing as now is so not the time for her crush to once again take charge of her brain.

Sadly, having noticed her staring, Laurel then begins to worry her bottom lip, causing Dinah’s eyes to instinctively flick downward. Mesmerized by the motion, she marvels at how full and pretty and symmetrical Laurel’s lips are, and wonders for a split second whether they feel and taste as soft and delicious as they appear. Unbidden, Dinah’s heart rate begins to accelerate as her chest and neck rapidly start to flush.  

A second later, the biological basis behind her strong reaction becomes glaringly apparent: that this is no simple crush.  Oh, God. Oh, God.  Stop it right now.  I’m not ready for this.  Hell, I’m not even sure this is real or if it’s just me assigning false meaning to how grateful I am to have her in my life.  I mean, I haven’t felt that way for a woman since college.  And this is not just any woman.  This is Laurel Fucking Lance!!!

And yet as it ever is when Laurel’s beauty bewitches her, the proof is all too evident.  From her throbbing pulse to the pool of warmth spreading from her chest into her lower belly, it is becoming increasingly clear that the experimental phase she went through like many other a normal university aged female may not have been a phase after all.  

Since Alanna Chambler, she has indulged a few minor crushes, but that’s all she thought they were.  Innocent crushes.  Simple admiration for the human aesthetic that any sane individual would objectively appreciate, of which Laurel is a preeminent example.  

Could it be possible that she was wrong to assume that’s all it was? That there was something deeper at play behind her noticing how stupidly pretty some girls like Laurel are?  Something she refused to acknowledge way back when because the fallout from her breakup with Alanna was an unmitigated disaster that may have scared her straight, so to speak?  The possibility is intriguing.  And terrifying.

So as not to scare the hell out of Laurel, or make a scene that will mortify her for weeks, Dinah quickly clears her throat and schools her features.    

“That’s fair, I guess,” says Laurel after a tense moment of them staring at one another with muddled degrees of curiosity, apprehension, and awkwardness.  “I won’t bore you with a sob story as to the reasons, but I don’t sleep much normally, and since I heard what happened to you even less.”  Pausing a beat, her eyes take on a liquid quality that causes a tight lump to form in Dinah’s throat. “I wasn’t here when you needed me.  Instead, I was across the country at a stupid conference I could have easily ducked out of if I really wanted.  While I was listening to some decrepit old hag prattle endlessly about how arcane certain statute of limitations rules are, you were bleeding out in a psychopath’s basement.  Had it not been for Curtis, you would be dead.  And that...haunts me.”  A shaky breath later, she adds, “I should have been here and I wasn’t and I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to forgive myself for that.”

How long has she been holding this in?  And why hasn’t she told me until now when she’s had plenty of opportunity?  Dinah wonders, and for unknown reasons is suddenly compelled to reaches out for Laurel’s trembling hand.  She experiences a foreign but intense relief when her gesture is not immediately spurned.  

“Oh, Laurel...”

“I know it’s bizarre and inexplicable and idiotic to blame myself for something totally out of my control,” Laurel interrupts, clearly frustrated with herself for a variety of reasons Dinah can probably guess at with a modest degree of accuracy.  “Lately I find myself being idiotic about a lot of shit and taking way too much interest in things I shouldn’t.  Like, I can’t stop mother-henning Felicity over her pregnancy.  And I’ve been irrationally obsessing over what happened to you, and that is just not like me.  I don’t know why I’m so...”  

Trailing off with an anxious sigh, she runs a shaky hand through her long blonde tresses.  “Look, I don’t really understand what the hell is going on myself.  As for why I’m here tonight?  I just...the thought of you being back home after what that fucking piece of shit did to you was hard enough when Ollie was arranging an around the clock protection detail.  Now that the detail is off, I should be relieved.  But I’m not.  I tossed and turned all night last night. Same thing tonight.  I couldn’t stop running ridiculous scenarios my head.  Like what if that sicko bastard somehow managed to get out? I mean, he did it once, albeit with Oliver’s help.  Stands to reason he could do it again if the circumstances were right. Slabside security leaves a lot to be desired, you know, so that is not out of the realm of feasibility.  I...”  she sighs, scrubs a hand wearily over her face, and seems to crumple inwards as if the pressure she has been laboring under lately has finally exceeding her limit.  “Believe me, I wish I had an acceptable answer for you beyond me being totally irrational.  I just don’t.”

Stunned by that outpouring, and more than a little touched, Dinah stares at an increasingly uncomfortable Laurel, who fidgets with every passing second as she was scrutinized.  A moment later she groans in dismay. “God.  You think I’ve gone nuts, don’t you?”

That snaps Dinah out of her stupor.  Brow crinkling, she shakes her head fervently.  “No.  Not at all.  Just...I’m surprised is all.  I mean, given our history I wasn’t expecting you to ever care about my well-being as anything more than an occasional co-conspirator in one of Felicity’s schemes, let alone become friends like we have recently.  Forgive me if I’m having a hard time wrapping my head around you caring so much that you are actually losing sleep over me.”

Though Laurel does chuckle a bit at the mention of their shared tendency to enable Felicity’s fiercely adventurous spirit, the lighthearted moment passes all too quickly as a second rosy blush colors her cheeks.  Averting her gaze to study the backs of her hands, she shrugs, unsuccessfully attempting nonchalance.  

“Believe it or not, this isn’t the first time I’ve lost sleep over you. When we first met, you were the only person who didn’t look at me like everybody else on this Earth did, as if I was a tool to be used or some twisted, sickening cosmic joke being played upon them because of the face I wear and the body I inhabit.  In your eyes, I was only ever just me because you had never met her, and I really liked how that felt even if you didn’t like me very much.  Also, you gave as good as you got, which was a nice change of pace from your comrades, who always held back when they fought me, though I’m sure they’d insist otherwise.  And maybe it’s just my imagination running wild, but I’ve always felt there has was a strangely exciting spark between us.  Maybe that’s why, quite against my will, I found myself respecting you.”  Worrying her hands together, she smiles ruefully.  “I used to lie awake for hours replaying our interactions on a loop in my head, you know?  For lack of a better term I was...” she flails her arms a little here, “fascinated with you.  Still am.  Although I can see how you wouldn’t know any of that considering my stunted ability to express myself with my words instead of my fists.”

Ignoring for a moment how she had no idea Laurel felt this way, and how special knowing she does makes her feel, Dinah nudges Laurel’s shoulder with hers, sporting a playful smirk.  “Which you’re getting better at, by the way.  I was really proud of you for not decking Rene yesterday when he implied you were secretly pleased about what happened to me.  That I lost my Canary Cry.  I know you wanted to.”

To be frank, Dinah did, too.  Rene was perfectly aware the subject was a sore one for her.  Literally and figuratively.  Her throat still aches like a bitch from all the repair work doctors had to do to shore up Curtis’s emergency field cauterization.  Learning that the damage to her vocal chords will likely prevent her from every being able to use her meta ability was the pouring of proverbial salt upon the still gaping wound.  There have been so many times she’s saved lives or prevented catastrophe with her Cry.  It’s become part of who she is.  That she’ll never get to experience it again has left her with an ever-present ache she can’t help but compare to having lost a limb.  

What’s worse, she’ll never be able to sing again, either, at least not at full tilt for more than a few seconds.  Even at moderate volumes, it will likely be uncomfortable and unsustainable, not to mention that she might never be able to pitch correctly again.  Although she doesn’t have the greatest voice in the world, some of her fondest memories of her childhood involve her mother singing her to sleep, and they are so precious to her that she has fantasized often about doing the same for her own children.  Now, if by some miracle she finds love again and marries, she might never get to realize that dream.  Those compounding losses are so unfair, so frustrating, so enraging, and so very depressing that even minor dwelling upon them eventually leads to tears.

Rene should have known better than to use them as a weapon against Laurel. Not only does he know how deeply she disapproves of his continually shitty attitude toward the reforming Black Siren but he should at minimum respect her enough to never indulge his issues with Laurel at her expense.  Sometimes his tactless cruelty leads her to wonder why she still calls him a friend when for Dinah’s sake Laurel is nearly always more cordial to him than he is to her – at least at first. Those two can’t be in a room for more than five minutes without their acerbic sniping turning into clenched fists and flared nostrils.

Laurel frowns deeply at the reminder of that unpleasant encounter.  “Wasn’t easy.  I can’t believe he had the gall to suggest I gave a shit about me being the only one who can do that now.  Maybe a year ago, that would mean something to me.  But now?  If I could, I would give my ability to you.  You deserve it so much more than I do after all I’ve done.  In retrospect I can see that it’s brought me nothing but grief and regret.”

The haunted quality of Laurel’s eyes tells Dinah she is regressing into the vast vault of horrible memories that are stored inside that brilliant mind.  Memories of all the lives, innocent and otherwise, she took using her Cry.  Of the years she refuses to elaborate upon in which she was regularly experimented upon in a government facility solely because she was one of the most powerful metahumans alive on an Earth that openly persecuted them.  Of the day she got that ability, doubtless experiencing something unimaginable.  

Sometimes when Dinah thinks about how she screamed in anguish as Sonus shot Vinny right in front of her, she inadvertently draws parallels to how Laurel received her gift. None of the scenarios she has conjured up offer any comfort to a conscience riddled by guilt over her having refused to sympathize with her fellow metahuman when they first met.  Who knows, maybe if she’d tried, Laurel might have responded to her overtures seeing as they have common ground upon which to stand.  Unlikely as that outcome would have been, she still should have tried. They have the exact same ability – granted Laurel’s is far stronger and her control of it significantly more advanced; how the hell does she do that thing where she blows a kiss and emits a sonic wave strong enough to knock a grown man on his ass? – which means that their origin point has to be eerily similar. If nothing else that alone would have provided the basis to form a tentative rapport.  

But Dinah hadn’t extended the proverbial olive branch, nary even a twig at that, leaving her to wonder what happened to transform Laurel into the infamous Black Siren.  Had she lost someone she loved dearly on that fateful day as well?  Was she involved in an accident that subjected her to unbearable pain?  Or was something far worse occuring, something so horrific as to produce the sort of shrill banshee wail Black Siren became famous for?

The latter possibility never fails to send a shiver of revulsion down Dinah’s spine.  If...that….did happen to Laurel as she was being bombarded by dark matter, she isn’t sure she wants to ever hear about it.  The mere ambient suggestion of Laurel enduring something so vile is sufficient to make her sick at her stomach, never mind being regaled with the visceral details. Thankfully Laurel seems equally as determined to not talk about that day, which is an arrangement Dinah is more than happy to keep for the foreseeable future.

Whatever went down to give Laurel her ability, there is no arguing that it is the sole factor to which her presence on Earth-1 can be attributed. It was for her meta ability alone that Zolomon rescued her, recruited her into his employ, and then transported her here to facilitate his evil schemes, and as rocky as the road has been between then and now for Laurel, Dinah cannot say she’s sorry that any of it happened. The very idea of not having Laurel in her life just seems so...wrong.           

“Not always, it hasn’t,” she replies, unfurling from her blanket so she can take Laurel’s hand.  The gesture produces the intended effect of drawing Laurel away from the self-imposed hell that is her memories.  Smiling gently, she adds, “I get why you might feel that way, but try and remember that if nothing else, it’s the reason you’re not still locked up in that hellhole Zoom sprung you from on your Earth.  And for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re here. With me.”

“You are?” Laurel asks, looking slightly awed at Dinah’s optimistic perspective.

“I am.  Doubly so actually.”  As she responds, Dinah reassuringly rubs her thumb along the back of Laurel’s hand.  “You may have scared the hell out of me, but I’m really glad you’re here tonight, too.”

Something happens to Laurel’s face then that Dinah has only ever heard about from Felicity.  Blinking against the tears gathering, her lips curl up slightly and then pause a split second before spreading further into a soft smile that teases her incredible dimples, causes her eyes to shine and makes her entire being glow as if she is illuminated by an internal light that is unveiled at just enough wattage to convey how touched she is.  What makes it even better – or worse depending upon the perspective – is that Laurel’s expression is screaming at Dinah that she would like very much to throw caution to the wind, lean in and close the short distance between their bodies until they are breathing each other’s air, and then plunge straight off the deep end to consummate the budding attraction that has been building between them until the tension has grown unbearable.

Not for the first time of late, Dinah feels a very familiar tug at her heartstrings.  There aren’t any other smiles in the world that can do to her what Laurel’s does.  And like this, with so much raw emotion behind it?  Ordinarily it is difficult for her to deny Laurel anything when confronted by one of those gorgeous smiles, but this is just taking it too far.  There’s isn’t much she wouldn’t do right now if Laurel asked, even risk their fragile friendship to find out if those lips of hers taste as yummy as they look.  

Amazing as this feeling is, she is not all prepared to give in.  Not yet anyway, ‘cause once she does, she knows it’s all over.  There won’t be any going back for her as she is not the type to cautiously wade in to a relationship, preferring instead to dive headfirst into the deep end, and she gets the same impression from Laurel.    

Clearing her throat breaks the moment, and Dinah is a little sad and quite a bit relieved to see Laurel’s demeanor abruptly shift back into safer waters.  “And hey,” she says, hoping to assuage the tint of hurt in Laurel’s eyes, “since we’re being honest with each other, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to admit I was a little bit scared when I crawled into bed knowing I didn’t have the crutch of a protection detail camped outside my place.  First time that’s happened since I was stupid ten year old who thought she was the bravest girl in the world only to discover she wasn’t by a long shot after she watched Nightmare on Elm Street before bed.”

Laurel’s nose crinkles at the last part of the confession.  “Oof. If that is the same thing as it was on my Earth, not a wise decision.”

Dinah chuckles wryly, in full agreement.  “It certainly was not. Thankfully my Dad was a total softy for his little girl.  He was so wrapped around my finger he stayed with me every night after until the fear abated.”

“Well,” Laurel nibbles her lip quickly, her expression going soft again, “I don’t know many sane people who would describe me as a softy, and you are far from a little girl.  But there is perhaps a tiny chance that I may be slightly wrapped around your finger as well.  Meaning if you want or need, I would be willing to, uh...you know.”  She gestures lamely, blushing yet again.  

Overwhelmed, Dinah’s eyes shimmer with gratitude at being privileged with a glimpse of the real Laurel.  She figured out a while ago that Black Siren is merely a coat of armor Laurel wrapped herself in to protect her from a world she became convinced – and understandably so – was out to get her.  Every now and then, when she’s relaxed and in good spirits, the Laurel that once existed before being repeatedly traumatized and abused until transforming into a writhing black ball of hatred makes an appearance.  Every time that happens, Dinah finds herself thinking the same thing she is right now, that she would like to spend a lot more time with this woman.  A whole lot more.  Because this is someone Dinah can feel unashamed about caring for.  Someone she would not object being openly attracted to.  Someone she might, if she was willing to peer closely enough into her wonderfully traitorous heart, already be falling for.

“Are you offering to stay the night to keep me safe, Ms. Lance?” she asks, hoping the answer is yes.

“I...I, uh, guess so.”  Laurel’s initial spluttering is so cute, Dinah has to refrain from squealing like a pathetic, love-struck teenage. Sadly Laurel recovers her composure quickly.  “I mean, yes, Captain Drake.  I am.”

Rather than fold like a cheap card, Dinah decides to attempt subtlety. “Hmm.”  Eyes narrowed, she taps her chin contemplatively.  “Well, you’re right that I’m not a little girl anymore.  But...” she draws out the vowel to really sell it that is totally not a hairsbreadth away from begging Laurel to stay over and cuddle up behind her and hold her tight all night long, “I would be lying if I said I would mind the company.”

Looking cautiously hopeful, Laurel quirks her head over to one side as she is so apt to do.  “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright, then.  I’ll stay.”

“Great!” Figuring it is way too soon for her to give in to the surprisingly powerful urge to invite Laurel into her bed, even if it is for innocent purposes, Dinah switches gears.  “So...when I found you outside, you appeared to be having a bad dream.  Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.”  The answer is expected.  However, when Dinah starts to argue the case for sharing being healthy, Laurel shakes her head and physically draws herself up straighter as if gathering her courage. “But you know what?  Maybe I should.  If for no other reason than to honor the spirit of honesty we have going here.”

“Who knows, it might help,” Dinah says, hoping to encourage Laurel to trust her with whatever had caused her so much distress.  “And I promise I won’t judge.”

As if preparing for battle, Laurel takes a deep bolstering breath and then exhales slowly before returning her focus to Dinah.  “So, I’d just ask that you be patient with me.  Okay?  ‘Cause I’ve never told anyone this before.”  

Dinah quickly her extends her agreement, not daring to do otherwise in her interest to learn more about this endlessly fascinating woman. Especially something that no one else knows.  As unexpected as all of this is tonight, what is happening right now is of an importance that Dinah truly appreciates.  Felicity has been the only person Laurel confided in up to this point.  Being included in that exceedingly tight circle is a privilege she is not about to pass up.  

“I was dreaming about someone.  Someone important to me.  Someone I lost back in Central City.  I’m sure you figured out a long time ago that I lived there back on my Earth due to me being a meta.”  Dinah nods in the affirmative, recalling that her mental dossier on this Laurel Lance includes a stint residing in Dinah’s old hometown and that it was there she received her meta powers.  “What you don’t know, nor does anyone else still living to my knowledge, is that while I was there I was not as...unattached...as I have led those who have inquired to believe.”  She grimaces.  “Quentin once quizzed me about my life back there, and for the most part I was honest.  Not about this, though.  This I kept to myself because it hurts too much to even think about most days.”  

Swallowing thickly, Laurel briefly averts her gaze and when she turns it back up, there are tears born of tumultuous, raw emotion in her eyes.  “I told him once that I never really held a real job before.  And that was true in a sense.  I don’t really consider what I did in Central City a real job.” She smiles ruefully, her gaze turning wistful almost.  “I actually used to be the staff singer at this little jazz club in the Lower West side.  Place called Reno’s.  Ever go there?”

“Yes,” Dinah replies, her voice rough with surprise and a bit of her own emotional response.  

Reno’s was her and Vinny’s favorite bar back when they were embedded deep cover with Sonus’ organization.  They’d go there every Friday night to decompress after an excruciating week of living a lie in the most hostile work environment imaginable.  

Jazz has always been Dinah’s go-to coping mechanism for stress, and Reno’s was the hottest spot in which to bask in the smoothest tones and most sultry melodies the genre had to offer.  Their musicians were the best in the city, all self-taught virtuosos, and their singers skillful and soulful enough to rival Ella or Billie at their pinnacle.  For Laurel to have been regularly employed there speaks to how talented she is.  As far as Dinah is aware, the Reno’s here never had a staff singer during her tenure with the CCPD.

“Ours never had a staff singer, though,” she adds.  “Reno liked to keep things fresh.  He had a stable of singers that rotated through on a monthly basis.”

“It was the same back on my Earth,” Laurel says, fondness dripping through her tone.  “When I first started there, I had auditioned like everyone else and expected to be part of the rotation.  Which I was for the first couple of months.  My gigs started selling out by the third.  Reno liked to say my voice and presence were good enough to get me on any stage but my dimples were what conquered hearts and made fans empty their wallets.  ‘I’m tellin’ ya, girl, those things coulda made Paris turn away from Helen,’ he’d croon as he counted the cash in the till with a gleam in his eye.”  On queue those very dimples peek out through an intensifying smile, proving old Reno’s point.  

Those things really ought to be illegal, Dinah thinks.  Or reserved for me alone.  The possessive nature of that thought makes her flush with as equal measures of shame and excitement.

“Anyway,” Laurel goes on, unaware of Dinah’s internal conflict, “I only say that because that’s where I met her.”

Dinah’s brows disappear into her hairline.  “Her?”

“Does it really surprise you to discover I’m bisexual?” Laurel asks, lips teasing to one side.  “A, This is 2019.  B, I’m a Lance, so it’s basically codified in my DNA.  And C, I’ve been flirting with you pretty much non stop since the moment we met.”

Dinah splutters a moment at that, her mind rewinding manically and then playing through all of their early interactions.  In retrospect, it is easy to see that Laurel was, indeed, flirtatious virtually every time they interacted.  It was only after Vinny’s death that they turned vicious, and even then she thinks their unusual attraction probably exacerbated the meteoric descent toward outright hatred. Thin line and all that.

“When you put it that way, I guess it shouldn’t,” she says after recovering from the initial shock of Laurel so open admitting to her flirting.

“To be fair, I suppose I should give you the benefit of the doubt since your Laurel was not brave enough to admit she was every bit as bi as her sister.  Before her death, she may have still been hung up on Ollie but she was also nursing quite the crush on Felicity.”  At Dinah’s dumbfounded expression, Laurel chuckles.  “It’s true, by the way.  I read her journals and shit – you know, to study up before officially replacing her at a professional capacity.  Quentin gave them to me to boost my chances of a successful transition. Apparently bisexuality runs in the family.  Shocker.  An uncle on my Dad’s side swung both ways as does my Mom, who dated a lady in grad school right before she met my dad.  If your Laurel’s information is reliable, which I assume it is what with her having been such a veritable bastion of virtue and honesty, we share that background.”

“Wow.” Flabbergasted, that is all Dinah says for several seconds before the reference to Sara catches up with her.  “Speaking of Sara, does she know about any of this?  I imagine she’d be really interested to learn something about her sister she might not have known about.”

Settling back against the cushions, Laurel crosses her legs and hums affirmatively.  “I told her last time she visited.  I think it helped us bond to know I was more like her than her Laurel, who hid from her sexuality instead of embracing it.  Not that I’m casting stones here.  She had her reasons for remaining in the closet, one of which was our distinct preference for men.  Turns out our taste in women is very...specific.”  

Laurel pronounces that last word very deliberately and stares at Dinah pointedly as if to elaborate on precisely what type of woman she finds attractive.  She doesn’t want to think too long or hard about the ramifications if that statement is true.  If she does, she might connect the nebulous dots to form a somewhat disturbing picture, one that might reveal if she’d met Earth-1 Laurel while she was still alive they would have gravitated toward one another the same way she has with this one and might even have eventually lead to a romantic entanglement that would have resulted in radical changes to the way their lives unfolded.  That right there is a can of worms Dinah would prefer stayed permanently sealed lest she lose her damn mind.  

“Actually, I’m the same.  I think.  Maybe,” she answers Laurel after recovering from the brief mental trip Laurel’s innuendo took her on.  She scratches the back of her head, a mite nervous all of the sudden.  “I’m not really sure.  I’ve always been strongly attracted to men, but I did date a girl in college.  I just...” she sighs, “when it ended, I wrote it off as an experiment because the breakup was bitter and ugly and I never wanted to go through that again.  Now, I’m starting to rethink that assessment as a bit premature.”

Laurel sits up straight, at full attention.  “Oh, really?  That is quite intriguing!”  For a moment she looks like she wants to launch into an in-depth interrogation only to think better of it at the last second.  “But as much as I’d love to pursue this line of conversation further, we’re getting dangerously off topic.”

Dinah sighs in relief and takes the proffered out.  Things were getting way too serious way too fast for her liking.  Ready as she is to admit she is attracted to Laurel, she is not ready to act on it.  Yet.

“Agreed. By all means, please continue...”

After smoothing her hands down her jeans, Laurel launches back into her tale.  “As I was saying, I met her at Reno’s.  She was a fairly regular customer, but she didn’t catch one of my gigs until I was on staff because her work schedule didn’t line up.  That night, she approached me after the show and introduced herself.  Asked me on a date right then and there.  I couldn’t say no.  I was instantly smitten.  Being around her felt so right, as if a long lost part of me finally slid into place.  That, and she was...” Laurel draws in a breath, eyes sliding shut, “a force of nature, magnetic, witty, driven, intense, drop dead gorgeous, and so full of life and light that she illuminated everyone who came into contact with.  Like a star that burned impossibly bright and drowned out all the others with her brilliance.  We went on a date that very weekend.  And another three days later.  Pretty soon we were seeing each other every other day.”  

Pausing, her expression grows dreamy, whimsical almost, as if the memories have transported her to a time and place she might actually have been happy.  A time before her life was shattered all over again, leaving her destitute and bitter, a woman spiraling out of control on her way to the bottom where Black Siren was eagerly waiting with arms wide open.

“God, Dinah.  I fell in love so fast that I didn’t even realize until I was already neck deep.  She made me forget how broken I was.  Made me want to live again.  Made me want things I had given up on, like getting married and having babies and buying a house in the suburbs and adopting a dog and the whole nine yards.  I hadn’t wanted any of those things since Ollie died.  Sometimes I think I may have even loved her more than I did him, which was scary as hell but a relief at the same time because she understood me like no one else ever has. She not only practiced a saintly level of patience with me but she embraced me for who I was and never once asked me to be somebody I wasn’t.  No one other than my father ever loved me so wholly and selflessly.  So how could have said anything but yes when she asked me to marry her a year later?  It was a no brainer, really.  Best choice I ever made.  And the worst.”

Dinah feels awful for the surge of irrational jealousy that overtakes her at hearing some other woman besides her was the first to make Laurel feel that way.  Hating herself for even entertaining such a notion, she quickly masters herself and focuses on the information being given to her, just like she was taught to while training to become a detective.  From how Laurel’s brief description practically gushed with praise, she can tell this woman was special.

“She sounds amazing,” Dinah says, trying her best to be a supportive friend.

Laurel’s wistful smile signals her confirmation.  “She was.  Every single day, she made me laugh and smile and never once made me feel like I was defective or like I didn’t deserve her.  She showered me with so much love I honestly felt like I was about to drown sometimes. And when I got panicky about that and would take off for a few days to sort through my baggage, she would always be waiting for me back home when I came to my senses.  She was kind and passionate and strong, and while we were together, she wasn’t just my lover and my best friend and my emotional rock.  She was my everything.”

Lips beginning to quiver, a solitary tear slips down Laurel’s cheek as she ducks her head and tries to rein in her emotions that are clearly getting away from her.

“What happened to her?”  Dinah coaxes gently, sensing a tragedy at the end of the story yet needing to know, even if she feels guilty about it putting Laurel through such an emotional ringer just to satisfy her fully invested curiosity.

When Laurel starts up the tale again, her tone is detached, as if she’s had to separate herself from the memory in order to recall it without breaking down.  Dinah feels like a heel for having cause it, and yet at the same time listens with rapt attention.

“The night the particle accelerator at S.T.A.R. Labs exploded, I got home early from work.  That night was our anniversary, so Reno let me duck out right after my set ‘cause I wanted to surprise her and, like virtually everybody else that met her, he had a huge soft spot with her name written all over it.  On the way home, I picked up dinner from our favorite place and stopped to pick up candles and roses and chocolates at this kitschy little shop that catered to couples in the mood for romance.  I was setting up the table when I got the call.” Catching Dinah’s gaze, Laurel smiles with a dark wryness that intensifies her guilt.  “Just my luck, as I was being told my fiancee was shot to death on the job, I got hit with a wave of dark matter that turned my manic screaming into a superpower.”

“Jesus, Laurel.  That’s awful.  I’m so sorry.”  

There isn’t much more Dinah can think to say about a horrible tale that frankly has her on the verge of crying herself.  So they had both lost someone that night.  Dinah a lover and Laurel a fiancee.  With so little time to process this revelation, she can’t figure out which of them had it worse.  

At first blush, it would seem logical to believe Laurel was better off having not witnessed her fiancee’s death.  Dinah is not so sure that line of logic holds water, though, when she would not even be tempted to trade places.  As bad as it was to watch Vinny die, twice, at least she was with him; at least they were able to say their silent goodbyes through eye contact that communicated the undying devotion for one another that resided within their hearts; at least she had the closure of being with him in his final seconds, offering what strength she could as her love for him poured out in waves of tears and mewling sobs.  

Laurel came home just like she did every other day, excited to share an anniversary with the woman she loved only to receive a phone call no one wants to get.  She never got to say goodbye, never got to say I love you one last time, and had to hear from someone else how the person she was prepared to commit the rest of her life to died doing her job.  Many may see that as preferable to being there when it happened, but not Dinah.  To her, Laurel’s was by far the worse fate.

Just as she is about to brave inquiring how it happened, something else occurs to her about the way Laurel worded a particular phrase.  Like a search dog having picked up a scent, she follows the trail with blind determination.  

Arms crossing defensively over her chest, she tilts away from Laurel and spears the blonde with a sharp glare.  “Wait a sec.  She was killed on the job?  What exactly did she do?”

Confused, Laurel’s brows furrow.  “Uh...she was an undercover cop with the CCPD.”

Dinah nearly launches out of her seat at that shocking tidbit of info.  There weren’t a lot of women working undercover with the CCPD during that time and most of them she knew personally.   “Are you serious? What was her name?”  Looking conflicted and pained, Laurel refuses to answer, which piques Dinah’s curiosity.  Other than the obvious, she gets the feeling there is something about this woman’s identity causing Laurel to cling so doggedly to secrecy.  The only reason she can think of is that Laurel wishes to spare her feelings.  But why? The answer resonates so suddenly and heavily through her bones that she gasps aloud.  “Laurel, did you know me?  I mean, the Earth-2 version of me?”  Still no answer.  “Laurel?”

Stubbornly shaking her head, Laurel launches off the couch, arms wrapping around herself as she begins to pace.  “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.  I know I said I’d tell you, but I can’t do this anymore.  It’s too painful.  Losing her almost killed me.”

I know how that feels, Dinah thinks.  And just then something truly terrible then occurs to her that radically turns the conversation away from another even more startling revelation that might well have altered her entire perception of Laurel Lance had it been allowed to surface.  It doesn’t, though, because Dinah loses her grip on that thread as a surge of fury courses through her veins.  

“Why did you lie to me?” she demands, thoughts spiraling back to not-so-distant past, to a visit from Laurel at her office at CCPD that contained an apology that served as the catalyst for their current, far more healthy relationship.

Frowning deepening into a scowl, Laurel stops pacing and glowers at her. “Excuse me?”

“You said once that you could only imagine how I felt when you killed Vinny.”  Dinah stands now, accusation as present in her tone as it is her posture.  “If what you just told me is true, then you know exactly how I felt.  Were you just playing me back then to gain my sympathy?”

The unexpected course change punctuated by that harsh accusation sends Laurel reeling back a step.  “What?  No!  I meant what I said. What happened to me was not the same as what I did to you.”

“I fail to see how,” Dinah shoots back obstinately, her anger having usurped all other concerns.  Like an unforgivably stupid sap, she had fallen for the line and let Laurel into her life and into her heart on false pretenses. 

Under attack, Laurel digs in her heels.  Those intense green eyes flash with indignation.  “Well, you should.  My fiancee was killed by a heartless monster.”

“And Vinny wasn’t?”  Dinah almost apologizes the second the barb leaves her mouth.  Almost.  She probably would have if the petty part of her was not fully in control and currently enjoying watching Laurel blanch as if stricken.

“Okay, wow.  That hurt, even if I deserved it,” Laurel replies in little more than a whisper.  Her posture radiates unadulterated hurt. “But I swear to you, Dinah, my apology was genuine.  I did not want to kill him.”

That is the last thing Dinah wants to hear right now.  Not when she is incensed by the sting of betrayal.  And to think she had almost convinced herself she was over Vinny’s death.  The worst part is she doesn’t know who to be more angry with right now for the deception, Laurel or herself.  Unwilling to accept any blame for one of the most traumatic moments of her life, only one target remains at which she can direct her ire.

“Then why did you?  Huh?!” she asks, aggressively stepping into Laurel’s personal space.  Way in the dark recesses of her mind, she knows this conversation has been a long time coming and their mutual avoidance of it is what led to this disastrous breakdown of what was otherwise a very pleasant – and enlightening – conversation.  Too bad she doesn’t care about that right now.  All that matters in the moment is getting answers to questions that have been eating away at her for far too long.  

“Why, Laurel?” she presses.  “You say you didn’t want to.  You say you’re sorry.  If that’s true, give me an actual answer that isn’t some lame bullshit excuse to cover your sorry ass.”  No reply.  “Answer me, dammit!  You owe me that much!” Frustratingly, Laurel continues to remain mute, which essentially pushes Dinah over the edge.  Laughing bitterly, her entire frame vibrating with barely restrained rage, she clenches her hands into fists at her sides.  “God, you’re such a lying cowa -”

“I didn’t have a choice!  Okay?  I didn’t!”  Laurel’s explosive interruption shocks Dinah into stunned silence.  Taut as a rope pulled between two diesel trucks, she listens to the explanation that follows. “When Cayden told me not to make him doubt my loyalty that night, it wasn’t an idle threat.  He could have killed me on the spot with little to no warning.  He had that power over me and we both knew it.  So I did what I always do.  I chose myself.  I chose to live.  I’m not proud of it, but there it is.”  

Pausing, visibly distraught, Laurel wraps her arms around herself as if in a desperate bid to keep from falling apart.  She has never looked more vulnerable, more fragile, more unsure of herself and frightened of Dinah and close to utterly unraveling.  The sight affects Dinah more than she would have liked, and she soon finds her anger uncoiling as Laurel grows increasingly emotional.

“I didn’t want to kill Vinny, Dinah.  I liked him.  Respected him, even,” Laurel goes on, expression matching her tone, both begging for Dinah to understand and to not hate her.  Loathe as she is to admit it, Dinah is convinced that she is being honest.  “He was the only person in that rag tag group of miscreants and degenerates that treated me like a human being with value.  I guess it’s because he was the only one of us with a halfway functioning conscience.” Curling in on herself, Laurel takes a shuddering breath.  “Just a second ago you were about to call me a coward.  Well, you’re right. I am.  I am worthless coward and a horrible person who will always choose herself and nothing I do or say will ever change that.”

Silence descends over them in the wake of an admission that rings to Dinah as patently false.  Laurel has proven so many times over the past six months that she is anything but a coward incapable of meaningful change.  Her most vocal detractors grudgingly admit she is a fair if not aggressive District Attorney, she has not once hurt an innocent during her extracurricular excursions to seek justice for her slain father, and she has even made friends who would be very upset with Dinah right now for causing her so much distress.  Hell, Dinah is one of those friends, or thought she was anyway before tonight cast shade upon that assumption.  If she was Laurel’s friend would she been so quick to accuse Laurel of such an underhanded tactic as using Vinny’s death to manipulate her?

Shame cascades in waves through Dinah’s chest, drowning out every last stronghold of animosity bitterly clinging to the surface of her heart.  It wouldn’t take a detective to figure out how badly she just hurt Laurel, what with Laurel wearing her pain the same way a relentlessly browbeaten prisoner might heavy shackles. Unfortunately, Dinah’s pride gets in the way of her issuing the apology dangling off the tip of her tongue.  With neither willing to speak, the silence that stretches on until they have both wallowed in miserable, awkward discomfort for so long that it doesn’t appear there is any salvaging what was once such a promising conversation.  

Laurel is the one to break the stalemate when she sighs in defeat. Shoulders slumping, she glances toward the door then says, “I should go.  Before I do, I have to tell you again how sorry I am.  I am so sorry, Dinah.  So very fucking sorry.  There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t wish I was as brave as you.  That I would have done the right thing.  If I had, Vinny would still be here, you’d be happy, and Cayden would have killed me, meaning at long last my miserable existence would be over.  I know that means nothing to you right now, but I hope some day it might.  I’ll let myself out.”

Still stunted beyond the ability to respond, Dinah can only watch as Laurel rushes out the door and disappears into the night.  Once the ability to function returns some minutes later, she shuffles over to the couch on shaky limbs, collapses heavily onto the welcoming cushions, and sits there numbly until the tears finally arrive.  Besieged by so many emotions she cannot hope to begin sorting them out, she cries and cries until it feels like she has permanently exhausted the ability of her tear ducts to function.  

Emotionally spent, she lays there wrapped up in her blanket and stares blankly at the wall, willing the oblivion of sleep to abduct her away from the sight seared into her imagination of the deceptively delicate flower that is Laurel Lance blooming right before her eyes only to immediately wilt under an onslaught of insensitive recrimination Dinah can scarcely believe came from her.  Like a switch was flipped when her brain made that connection to Vinny, she had launched into attack mode and proceeded to mindlessly obliterate the remarkable progress she and Laurel had made tonight.  For a while there she had felt so encouraged over the direction they were heading that she allowed herself to be swept away on wings of hope.  What a fool she’d been!  Now, only barren emptiness remains where once there was a verdant field lush with promise, and she has no one but herself to blame for the dramatic and pervasive wasting.  

With no tears left to cry and nowhere to hide from her guilt and shame, Dinah remains motionless upon couch until long after the sun has once again arisen in the East.  Those hours are some of the most lonely and wretched of her life.

[stagekiller]

✧･ﾟ:✧!Headcanon time!✧:･ﾟ✧

  Here is something to warm you up for the contents of this post.

 If this face doesn’t spell out ‘ broski love me pls ’ I don’t know what does tbh. Either way:

 The life & crimes of Jerome Valeska, part II: One Bad Day

   I’m going to quickly get a thing out of the way before I start : Yes I am aware that the writers did our boy dirty & hadn’t written Miah in for half the show, then suddenly pulled the ‘twin brother’ twist ( which I usually find cheesy af & if it weren’t for Cam/eron’s AMAZING acting, I probably would have hated it ) I write my headcanons based on the show as a whole, analyzing Jerome’s behavior from S1 to S4 as if ‘Miah had always existed. And keeping that in consideration, here is my take on the Valeska twins.

Young identical twins often seem to have a telepathic bond, but there's no evidence that it's real. Their similarities reveal something about the likeness of twins' minds, not a link between them. This is one of many findings from research into twins separated at birth and raised apart. When such pairs independently read the same books, follow the same household routines, or enjoy the same hobbies, Segal writes, "they cannot be communicating because they are often unaware that the other twin exists—instead, they are reflecting their matched abilities, tastes, and temperaments."  ( X )

  I can’t stress this point enough but I feel like it’s often overlooked when talking about their relationship, so I’m going to attempt ( to stress it. until it breaks ) A quick re-watch of the Maze Scene gives us the following points:

 Jerome’s eyes when looking at Jeremiah are constantly fixed on his face & observing his expression: he is interested in Miah’s reactions

 Jerome appears to be genuinely excited to see his brother and on the verge of a manic episode.

 Jeremiah averts his gaze ( a sign of emotional distress, avoidance, perhaps guilt ) when his leaving home is mentioned and despite being held at gun’s point still taunts & insults Jerome, perhaps attempting to manipulate him even, which indicates that Jeremiah doesn’t really feel that Jerome will pull the trigger - perhaps he’s exercised similar control on his brother in the past, or perhaps he can read Jerome’s body language, being that as identical twins they share a special bond.

 Jerome’s primary goal is NOT to kill Jeremiah, but to bring Jeremiah to his level and make Jeremiah as he is: insane. He wants Jeremiah to embrace the darkness inside him - and if that doesn’t scream ‘desperate need for connection’ I don’t know what does. ( on that note, Jeremiah later displays the same obsessive behavior towards Bruce “ can you feel it ? The connection between us ! ” )

Prior to that scene Jerome displays the full extend of his obsession when he addresses his brother through the camera. His antics are obviously meant to taunt & scare his brother, but on a deeper level, his voice is full of emotion when he swears he would never hurt ‘Miah. And how do I know? Because, much like in the Maze scene & when referencing the fact no one ever helped him to Bruce, Jerome’s voice drops & becomes raspy as a growl when he gets emotional.

The same thing happens when Jerome references his life after Miah left. He has a short-lived outburst ( linking this to my headcanon about him displaying AS/PD traits ) and even raises his voice. Few people & circumstances seem capable of making Jerome lose his temper during S4. He has never went into an outburst after mentioning matricide to anyone else and always held a cold & aloof approach towards the subject * ( see Notes section )

 He keeps touching ‘Miah in an aggressive manner and exaggerates the word brother, using it at every chance he can get. These can both be signs that Jerome has genuinely missed his twin.

  Now that I’ve made my point about their relationship being one of complicated & twisted brotherly love, I want to get to the main point of this post:

   Jerome’s ‘one bad day’ wasn’t the day he butchered Lila. It was the day Jeremiah left.

“ I guess it’s like what they say. We all could go insane with just one bad day.” - Murder carrot

   In Jerome’s own words, his brother ‘ran away in the middle of the night like a coward’. The morning after Jeremiah left, Jerome would find his bed empty. Abandonment can be the root of many personality disorders as it is one of the most extremely painful emotions one can experience. Mix that with betrayal and the gradual worsening of his situation at home; Jeremiah might have likely been his only source of support during childhood, and with him gone Jerome was stuck dealing with the abusive household all by himself.

   On top of that, there was the betrayal. Jeremiah didn’t just leave, he threw him under the bus too. He used Jerome’s antics as leverage to pin things on him & make a good justify of why he ‘was at danger’ and had to be away from his maniacal brother. Sure, I do believe that Jerome had behavioral problems as a child and he must have been prone to violent outbursts too, but if he wanted Jeremiah dead, he would have killed him the second he came around that corner.

   The day Jeremiah left marked the destruction of Jerome’s future. He would be left behind in the circus, rotting away with their depressed, alcoholic, abusive mother & potentially his cruel uncle. And the thing was that these people did once mean something to him. In his own words: “ You turned everyone I’ve ever loved against me. My own flesh and blood ! ”

  He was left behind, abandoned, forgotten, alone.

  This played a key part in Jerome’s desperate need to be in the spotlight and his showman complex. Apart from ruining his chances at developing connections with people, because the sting of betrayal never faded, it made him afraid to experience that extreme sentiment again: he fears that he will be FORGOTTEN again.

   And that drives him to stick his face in the cameras & make public shows of his atrocities, drawing as much attention as possible, relishing in the fact that he’s making a name for himself in the process. Jeremiah was a victim just as much as he was a perpetrator: Jerome spraying him wasn’t an unfortunate coincidence, it was Karma.

  Now, I’m not saying Jeremiah is evil because every child has a reason to become what they become. And Jeremiah’s reason was purely to survive, as well as the fact he shared the same predisposition for antisocial behavior. They were, indeed similar. But the environment they grew up in molded them into different types of abuse victims: Jerome expressed it through his violent outbursts, Jeremiah internalized it and deal with it through insidious & manipulative behavior. They couldn’t both be explosive as kids, someone had to become more cold & calculating and control the other and that just happened to be Miah. So, I’m not saying that Miah is evil for throwing Jerome under the bus, I’m just explaining what my take on their story is.

Notes:

 To conclude, I want to add that I’m MORE than open to discussing headcanons with Jeremiah muns and of course I won’t try to force some of my own on them - this is basic rp etiquette, after all.

( * I am not saying he feels guilt, he is definitely unapologetic about killing Lila and has no remorse whatsoever, but he usually doesn’t care to explain his motive or how bad his life was before that. Even when addressing Gordon, he shrugged off the abuse as Lila ‘nagging’. Only Jeremiah and Bruce Wayne drove Jerome to talk about his bad past with such emotion.)

[nonbinarysasquatch]

for the critical opinion on ships ask meme: dramione, rethaniel, joshbecca, grebecca?

Ah, yes, let’s see how many people I can piss off in one go. I’ll tackle these in reverse:

Grebecca: Maybe in some alternate universe these two could work out but not in the one we have. They were very toxic for each other and Greg, frankly, deserves better. I think It Was a Shit Show said everything about their relationship that needed to be said. It was terrible and Greg did the right thing by leaving. 

While I do think Rebecca loved him, as long her obsession with Josh and her on issues went unaddressed she would’ve continued to string him along and eventually they would’ve hated each other. I think they were a really good example of how love can’t save a toxic relationship and you shouldn’t destroy yourself trying to make a toxic relationship work.

I do think seeing all the shippers who harass Rachel and Aline have soured me further on this ship but I still love Greg as a character. He’s (in my opinion) the most realistically human character the show has had.

Joshbecca: Josh is a sweet guy but he’s not remotely emotionally intelligent enough to be with Rebecca. And frankly, they just don’t have much in common. The main way they connect at all is via his childishness but for Rebecca that’s not healthy (and I’d argue it’s not really healthy for Josh either.) 

There’s probably a universe where they could date for a few months and have fun but that’s it. They are just too different and in terms of the actual canon universe Rebecca has beyond treated him awfully and it’s only by the grace of the fact that Josh is the most forgiving and kind character on the show that he doesn’t hate her.

Rethaniel: Oh boy. Are you ever like, “Well, I’m about to say things that literally no one is going to be happy with”?

It’s been an interesting journey tracking my feelings about this ship. On my first watch through I was surprised by how much I was able to like Nathaniel, despite his flaws. But then I rewatched and was better able to analyse his actions (while watching season 3 live it became easy to forget things he had said and done and I didn’t pay attention to fan discussions at all.)

There are definitely Nathaniel moments I like. Actually, I still love his plot in Josh is Irrelevant because I really relate to him getting triggered in that episode for some personal reasons. It’s the only time I’ve found him relatable, though.

The funniest thing is that deciding to check out the CXGF fandom on Tumblr was the thing that really started to bring out my negativity about the ship. Simply because I was stunned to find out so many people... shipped them so wholeheartedly. It made me uncomfortable even though at that point I still hadn’t put an enormous amount of thought into it because frankly: I don’t care about Rebecca’s romantic life at all. It’s not why I watch the show. So my attitude has tended to be “she can have romantic stumbles and bad relationships as long as the end of the show isn’t about her romantic life.”

And I mean, that’s STILL my attitude. I know some people disagree but I’m fine with Rebecca having bad relationships and I know some people REALLY disagree but I think there is value to Nathaniel as a character (DON’T HATE ME LEAH) and deconstructing the privilege and abuses of wealthy straight white men in America.

Now, thankfully, my experience with Rethaniel shippers has all been great and most seem to be lovely people and many of them ARE critical of Nathaniel’s actions. So I don’t hold anything against them, and I’ve been forged in the fires of HP fandom where some truly gross ships are also some of the most popular so...

Anyhow, here’s why I’ve gone from kinda neutral on Rethaniel to them being actually something I’m against:

Look, before we get into any of Nathaniel’s behaviour and meta on his place on the show, I’ll just say: it’s really fucking hard to ignore that every female Jewish fan of the show I’ve interacted with hates Nathaniel. It’s not my place to comment on why that is but when an entire group is like “this dude makes us uncomfortable” I tend to listen.

Meta wise, we now know that Rebecca is Nathaniel’s Josh, aka object of obsession that he’s idealising. Which means that aside from any of his actual behaviour, once Nathaniel can get over that obsession it won’t be healthy for him to continue to interact with Rebecca.

Nathaniel sexually harassed Rebecca while they were trapped in an elevator.

He plotted to deport Josh’s father and to murder Josh’s grandfather so that he could get laid (though it’s debatable whether Nathaniel really thought he would have to go through with these things, I do think if Rebecca had been cool with them he would’ve let them happen and buried any guilt as per usual.)

He repeatedly bodyshames her.

He treats her mental health problems as cute and attractive.

When she breaks up with him he fires her out of spite (something he basically confesses to.)

Rachel Bloom has said that Rebecca is attracted to Nathaniel in part BECAUSE he negs her and that definitely tracks with Rebecca’s low self-esteem. She’s also said that her interactions with Paula’s dad factor why she goes and sleeps with Nathaniel after getting back to West Covina, so erm, unpack THAT.

For me the final clincher is “Nothing is Ever Anyone’s Fault” a song which I should note, I like (as a piece of satire and meta-commentary, which is a case for a lot of the show’s morally not great pieces.) After everything, Nathaniel doesn’t see anything he’s done as wrong. I do think he will eventually but the end of season 3 and the title being “Nathaniel is Irrelevant” to me send a clear message. 

I’m baffled that some people think “Nothing is Ever Anyone’s Fault” is a sweet, romantic song when everything about it is the opposite of the message the show is trying to convey. Rebecca and Nathaniel are saying in that moment that part of what has drawn them together is not taking responsibility for their actions and blaming everything on trauma. It’s destructive and toxic, not romantic. And this evidenced by the following scene in the courtroom where Rebecca rejects Nathaniels amorality and chooses her conscience (aka Paula.)

And like, soon I will finish my season 3 reviews and get into why the season 3 finale is genuinely one of my favourite things the show has done (as it was the next missing piece that I wanted the show to cover... they had dealt with what Rebecca’s underlying problems were but not fully dealt with her need to take responsibility for her actions.)

I think there’s hope for Nathaniel as a character. He can grow and be redeemed and learn to use his privilege to help people, rather than using it as a weapon and a shield. But he needs to stay away from Rebecca. I do think they love each other but their love is destructive.

My final thought I want to attach is that... I think there’s something to be said for the relevancy characters like Nathaniel have for Americans. In this country, our real life villains look like Nathaniel and his family. They represent white privilege and and cold, driven capitalism.

It’s not entirely surprising that so many of us find it easy to love Nathaniel and latch onto him as a character. I think it’s something we’ve been conditioned to as a way of coping with life in a capitalist hellscape.

Observe the way people like Elon Musk and Jeff Bezos are treated by many liberals. Jeff is, to be fair, a liberal but he’s also the wealthiest man in the world and his company has some serious ethical problems with how their workers are treated at all levels (it’s not just the people working in the warehouses, I’ve known Amazon programmers in the past and the work conditions are nightmarish and not sustainable unless you are in perfect health and have no personal life.)

And Elon Musk is a libertarian who has donated to Republicans who want to take people’s rights away but he still gets weirdly treated like some sort of liberal icon.

And I don’t want to poison the well too much, but I would like to at least make a cursory gesture at our president, who is a privileged straight white man who openly sexually harassed women, is guilty endless racism, antisemitism, ableism, misogyny and has of course been accused numerous times of sexual assault. A complete list of why our president is awful would require an entire novel to itself...

But someone like our president was able to get elected. Half the country voted him in. 

And obviously... Nathaniel isn’t wealthy on the level of guys like that (or he wouldn’t be pissing about with a lawfirm like Whitefeather) and he’s mercifully not a monster like our president. But I do think our need to cope with our environment contributes to liking characters like him. If people like him can be good inside and can be redeemed then maybe there’s hope for this country.

But in reality... people like Nathaniel don’t grow and change. But I believe they can. And, for me anyhow, this is the value I see in Nathaniel. They can send a message to straight, white men about privilege and learning to fight back against the patriarchy that lifts you up. He can be a good person. But his road to that might be a little harder because men like Nathaniel don’t change because privilege protects them. Why change when society itself never allows you to fail?

But I think Nathaniel will grow and change. But I think it’s important he does that on his own. Rebecca can’t be his manic pixie dream girl (even though that’s literally how he sees her.) Rebecca’s journey is her own and it’s not about the men.

[aria-i-adagio]

Echoes of the Past: Day 10, Cuisine

Dema is... not a good cook.  She’s essentially useless in the kitchen, and with Asra being a rather adept cook who can literally make a decent meal out of anything (personal headcanon), she never learned.  This failing created all sorts of mistakes and one or two small fires once Asra left during the plague.  Post plague, when Asra leaves, she relies on food stalls in the market and Artemis + Selasi for meals.

Despite frequently forgetting to eat when she’s hypomanic/manic, she very much likes food and will try pretty much anything once.  Moderately spicy things are among her favorites, and she doesn’t mind pushing herself to try something very spicy every now and then.  She developed a bit of a drinking problem while in school, and never really kicked it after she moved to Vesuvia.  The Plague didn’t help.  That addiction stuck with her even after she was brought back from the dead.

Excerpt from “Leaden Trumpets Spit the Soot of Power”

Four years ago.  January.

“It's gauche.”

“Have you ever met Lucio?  Of course, it's gauche.  Everything about him is gauche.”

“Well, okay, this is extra gauche.”  I shook the rinse water from the kale I had picked earlier and flipped the leaves over to cut out the toughest parts of the ribs.  Asra had a trick of caramelizing the greens with onions that I hadn't quite figured out yet, but the batch I fixed the night before had been closer to his.  If I defined closer as merely edible.  Maybe I'd get the proportions of onion and garlic right this time.  Or the level of heat.  Or any of the other possible variables.

“But you'll still come with me, right?”

Julian - even more useless than I am in the kitchen - leaned against the counter, watching me roll the leaves and chop them into wide strips.  Even with half the city dead or dying, the Count was still planning to host a multi-night masquerade for his birthday.  And apparently, the Count insisted on Julian's attendance.

“It just doesn't seem right.”  I tossed a handful of the kale into the skillet and jumped back as the grease crackled and splattered everywhere.  Ah well.  At least I had managed to saute the onions and garlic instead of burning them.  Progress.  “Besides, how will he even know if you're there?  Everyone's in masks and there are a lot of people.  Just spin some lie about missing him if he asks later.”

“He'll know.”

“Why's he so obsessed with you?”  I grabbed a pinch of salt from the cellar by the stove and sprinkled it over the greens.  I hadn't cooked them with salt last night and adding it at the table hadn't made them taste right.  The baker told me this morning that when you add the salt does matter, as it draws water out of the vegetables and changes how they actually cook.  “If someone cut off my arm, I probably wouldn't much care to see them again.”

“I didn't actually cut off his arm.  Hell, they, uh, still barely trusted me to carry off amputated limbs.”

“I stand corrected.  If someone walked off with my arm that had just been . . . Good lord, this conversation got weird.”

Julian groaned and covered his face with his hands.  “We had, um, a thing for a while.  I was young and stupid, and really, he wasn’t bad to me . . .”

“Seriously?”

Julian nods at me, eyelids flickering with apprehension.

“Okay, so the Count is an ex-lover from back when you were both mercenaries, and he’s decided he’s interested in you again?”

“Didn’t quite know if or how to tell you.  Um, I mean, I'm not interested in him, not now, ugh . . .”

“Should I be jealous and threatened?”  I reach up and touch his chin.  Nothing to be gained from jumping at the shadow of each former lover.  We could play at that game for a long time between the two of us.  “I mean, I can fake it if you want.”  

A huge, relieved sigh leaves Julian’s chest, and I feel his lips press against the top of my head.  “Sorry.  I should have told you before; it’s just an overwhelming amount of awkward, you know, with Lu being well, Lu.  But I'd still rather not piss him off.”

“And you need me there because -?  I’m not mad at you.  I just really don’t think he should be throwing a party right now.”

“Can't I just want to see you in a pretty dress?”  He looped an arm around my waist, spun me away from the stove, and dipped me back.  “And if I'm dancing I'd much rather dance with you.”

“So you need me to come to keep you safe from the big scary count?”

Julian affected a pout.  “Pretty please.”

“Oh, all right.  I'll go.”

He laughed and picked me up again, kissing each of my cheeks, then my mouth.  I smacked him with a wooden spatula until he put me down.  The greens had already started to burn.  I push them around with the spatula, then grab a towel that’s already been scorched multiple times to lift them off the heat.  Too late.  Probably still edible though if I'm careful to leave the charred bits in the skillet.

At least the cornbread hadn’t burned.  And it actually rose this time, thanks to some fresh baking powder that Selasi had slipped me with a laugh when I complained to him that I could have used my last attempt as a lethal weapon.  With that improvement and a bit of goat cheese, I’d traded eggs for, the meal was almost worth eating.  Not that Julian has ever complained. 

“I do have something I can wear.  It's just, maybe a bit daring.”

“Oho?  I like the sound of that.”  He folded his hands under his chin and stared intently across the table at me.  “Can I see?”

“That's actually a good idea.”

“I had a good idea?”

“Yes, I should make sure it still fits.”  I glanced away and then looked back at Julian with half-lidded eyes.  “And it's a bit easier to get into with two people.  Well, maybe not easier.  More fun.”

“Now, I really like the sound of this.”

“Of course you do.  Lech.”

[abgailgibbs]

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[miyoron]

Miyo’s Anime of Various Notes 2017 Edition

This year was a good year for anime. I liked a lot of shows this year and I thought I would write up another one of these! Again, they're in no order really!

Miss Kobayashi’s Dragon Dragon Maid

Dragon Maid as a series has definite problems. There's some kind of gross fan service and some really unhealthy feeling fetish stuff, especially from what I've heard and seen from manga snippets. However, despite all that, Kyoani was able to polish this show up into a nice little story about a dragon and her love for the woman who saved her life..and drank with her a lot out in the boonies one night. It's a really nice story though of a lonely person slowly getting a new lease on life with new friends who happen to be dragons. There's lots of good little character moments and it's nice that all of the characters grow as time go on really, even when one just plays MMOs all day and writes curse doujinshi. Also I can't listen to the opening theme without getting butterflies in my stomach from cute lovey doveyness.

Girls' Last Tour Girls' Last Tour takes place in the shell of a world that is on its last legs. There are crumbling buildings, technology long since in use and even the occasional grave site. Really, the world itself is kind of bleak, but the story of Chito and Yuuri is not an overtly sad one. It's the story of how as long as you have each other, you've got all you need in life. Seriously though, there are some good heart warming moments in here. The girl's have weirdly cute wide Hidamari Sketch style heads against the bleak background but it works really well. It has some really nice music too:  the rain drops song in patricular is super duper chill and is just a joy to listen to.

Recovery of an MMO Junkie It's nice to see an anime about people my age, that might be why this one interested me at first. On top of that though, it's a show where one can find a lot of familiar stories, especially if you've touched an MMO at any point in time. First and foremost though, Recovery of an MMO Junkie is a story about relationships though and how helpful they can be. These don't pertain to just romantic ones of course. Friends are super helpful when you're having a bad time, and as the show goes on, you can see just how much the friends Moriko is making along the way mean to her. It's a cute little story with some very cute moments and character designs. Morimori-chan is one of my favorite characters this year and I support her in every way. Sakurai is also a very good boy of course.

Love Live Sunshine Season 2 Last year I had season 1 on my list and the trend continued this year. The girls in Aqours just seem so much more realistic in their struggles than Muse ever did in the original show. They don't always get what they want; life does not just throw out miracles like Chika wants it to. But they don't let it stop them, and the girls keep going because, to quote the opening "we got dream." Seriously though, I am consistently pleased with this show and it helps that my favorite girl got her own episode early on. Also the studio has FINALLY figured out how to make the CGI look good compared to the previous series' attempts. Good music, good girls, good show. It still has 2 more eps but I'm confident with placing it here in my shows of the year of note.

Little Witch Academia Little Witch Academia has been bouncing around through various OVAs for the past couple years, so it was nice to finally get to see this show...be an actual show. It has a few ups and downs, which mainly are wishing a few characters got more screen time, and one specifically LESS screen time, but it's a very nice show. It's got a fun doofy protagonist who is doing her best even though she is terrible at magic. It has a haughty rival, even though only Akko sees her as on the same level, a cute nerd pal who reads anime Twilight and a mushroom obsessed creepo who got vored by a slime monster. I really do not know what else you need me to say. It's by Trigger so it's beautiful to watch? It has a Moomin reference? You can see the dumb guy from Pawn Stars but anime? It's a really good show. Real good.

Restaurant to Another World This show is a guilty pleasure honestly. It's fun to see the weird fantasy creatures ordering, mostly Japanese, cuisine in an interplanetary restaurant, yes. The main draw though is seeing the wonderfully animated and drawn food though. Every week watching this just made me hungry and it was hard not to drool a lot of the time. The characters are all really fun, even if they're essentially all interspersed between episodes. Almost all of them get their own little spotlight episodes in conjunction with their favorite particular dish. Most of all, I'll never forget Restaurant to Another World for giving me so many furry vore retweets from a random image I got from an episode. It's a fun show you can watch in the background and just admire the tastiness. Just, you know, maybe eat dinner first.

Interviews with Monster Girls Interviews with Monster Girls is not Monster Musume, that's the thing I can stress the most about this. It's about a world where there are just...monster girls! Join our way-too-into-them sensei as he...tries to honestly just learn about the differences between the folklore surrounding various monsters and how it ties into how they actually live in society. Also root on for a succubus as she tries to just let her mature woman side fly. It's very rough being a succubus in a super packed society did you know? Seriously though, it's a nice little show that oddly has more continuity than you'd think since it's not just an episodic 4koma style show. It's also got a dumb vampire with a shirt that has a cape design on the back, it's great.

Kira Kira Precure a la Mode This was the first Precure I've watched as it was on-going so it's been a fun ride. It has a bunch of magical girls who are also animals but ALSO are desserts. It also has some of most fun looking CGI I've seen in anime before, but that seems to be what Precures are good at so it's not that surprising for series veteran watchers I'm sure. Either way, it's a good story about friends and fairies and sweets. It's made me want to bake dumb anime cookies for an upcoming con and fill them with kira*kiraru. It has a really fun ending theme too...well both of them really. I'll look forward to see what the Precures are up to next in the coming series, but I'll never forget these girls.

Umaruchan R I liked the original Umaru season well enough, but the second season has really been going all in on the fun. On top of that, a lot of the characters have gotten more screen time and more character development even. We learn more about Sylphin, Kirie and Ebina, and  Umaru and Taihei's sibling relationship is shown to be a lot nicer too. It's not like before where she was always just a terrible brat trash girl, now she's just that SOME of the time. You can tell they really love each other though, and not in a gross way that other anime like to do with siblings. Also it's shown just how being friends has helped the other girls, and even Umaru herself really. It's a good show and I'm glad that it managed to get better on its second at bat.

Big Gold Star Show

Kemono Friends Kemono Friends is...well It's not really a good show. It has a hilariously low budget and even worse CGI. It's a lot like a picture drawn by your 5 year old where it's not fine tuned yet but it makes you feel kind of good anyway. It has some really cute character designs of this bunch of doofy animals that are just living their lives. Whether it's going to battle every day against their long time rival, wandering ruins looking for coins or just singing to their hearts content, there is something about the Friends that just makes you root for them. It's not a show you need to watch, but you might just like it if you do. Sugoooooi~

Old Anime of the Year

These are shows that I watched that didn't necessarily come out this year but that's when I watched them. It's pretty simple!

Osomatsu-san Sheeeh! I watched this one on the recommendation of a buddy. A remake of a series from the 1960's about sextuplet brothers modernized into terrible dirtbag NEETs. This show is full of weird, often gross, things, but there's something about its manic humor that just speaks to me. The brothers are terrible terrible terrrrrible boys but you can find good points about them too. I've been watching season 2 as well this season so this will probably carry over into next year as an old anime of the year. Sooo...let's just say Osomatsu-san is an Old Anime of the Year 2016-2018. Ok? Cool!

Yuri on Ice I had this on last year's list of shows to look into and I'm very glad I continued it. It tells a really good story about gaining confidence and learning to feel good about yourself. Yuuri's journey along the way is wonderful. Because of that, this is another series I'm looking forward to the second season of to see where it goes. My only complaint was that it was a little repetitive but that's probably how sports anime go huh? I liked watching the routines and listening to the songs. It also has a great cast of side characters like Chris with the great butt, the weird vampire guy and Phichit, your best friend. There's also J.J. who is full of himself, sure, but there's just something fun about him still. Here's to more ice boys!

Konosuba Konosuba is a series full of lovable dummies. Like...execeptionally dumb. Like..super..SUPER dumb. But that's really what's so fun about them. I had some Ah! My Goddess vibes with the series' set up except Aqua is a much much much more flawed goddess than Belldandy ever was. Seriously though, this series takes the isekai/reborn in another world from our world genre and takes it in a direction that's actually fun instead of retreading the same old stories. It's got explosion mages, it's got really awkward paladins and it has a very put on dullahan who just wants to have his evil schemes go the way he planned. I need to watch season 2 still, and if it's more of the same, I'm in for sure.

Heart Catch Precure This show was actually my first Precure several years ago, but my buddy and I didn't finish it before. Since we had been watching the new show, we decided to double up and watch both of them at the same time. Heart Catch is honestly a delight and has some of the things I like most in a magical girl show. It has fun heroes, it has really doofy villains and it has a whole lot of heart. It's episodic sure, but it has a really great art style that just makes it even more endearing to me. Also, episodic magical girls with dumb monsters is why I loved the original Sailor Moon anime. I also enjoy that the Precures just punch and dropkick things as their first course of action. You just can't step to a magical girl that's gonna just pop you in the jaw.

Ugh show?

Gabriel Drop Out I don't know whether to call this show an UGH show or just an ultimately lame one. I know it definitely is a 1 or 1.5 character show though. The best character is sweet dumb demon Satania who the show seems completely content to just dump on whenever it has the chance. I do not appreciate that anime. I don't at all. Please do not bully this sweet evil girl because she does not deserve it. This show was not as heinous as last year's Kuma Miko, but one of the characters is for sure a bad bad ugh one.

Anime to Check Out

I have a few shows I've had on my list to look at, mostly on my Crunchy Roll queue that I haven't gotten on due to a crazy good Fall season/laziness. Here they are!

Alice to Zoroku I watched the first episode of this back in the summer and I didn't take the time to finish it up. I plan to fix that in the coming year since I like the premise and I really liked the old man especially. I look forward to learning more about them in the future!

The Ancient Magus' Bride This one I've mostly seen interesting looking pics of so I'm curious. I like cool skeleton wizard looking things and anime. This seems reasonable enough to me.

One Punch Man This is still happening right? Yea, definitely gonna watch that.

[panticwritten]

10 Questions from Breakeven2007

Haha, thanks for the tag @breakeven2007, I’m always a slut for answering questions.

Since I forgot to put the rules on the post last time I got tagged, I’ll go ahead and do that this time. Basically, if you’re tagged, you answer the questions your tagger left at the bottom of the post, then you tag some other folks and leave your own questions at the bottom for the next people to answer!

I’ll do this under the break again.

1. What OC makes you want to tear your hair out and why?

Okay, when it come to writing a character, like getting the writing down when I’m writing them, it would probably be Jay. They spend so much time locked away in their lab that they talk to their androids more than they even see other people. They have shaky morals and I always want to write them as being better than they are.

With the way characters act and general ‘what are you doing?’ tearing my hair out, I’d say it’s Sawyer. Because most of my writing is daydreams and I’m writing the things that happened in my daydream, I write with the knowledge of how much those decisions fucked me over. Sometimes I wish I could go back and whisper in my past-self’s ear saying “NO!”

Retrospect is 20/20 and I hate it.

2. Do you like going back and reading old writing or looking at old drawings? Why or why not?

Oh my god, yes. To a point. I love reading 2014-onward writing. Before that, there are things I should just let die. I have a completed Johnny the Homicidal Maniac/”Gory Demise” by Creature Feature fanfic in the depths of my DA, for Christ’s sake.

The worst part is, on my particularly nostalgic days, I have thought about rewriting that ;^;

But I like looking back and seeing how far I’ve come in my writing. I like seeing how different projects change the way that I write. If I read my god-awful writing for 2010, I can actually start to believe it when people tell me my writing is good. Because no matter how many flaws it might have, It’s better than it was. That’s all that matters in the end.

3. Have you ever had a daydream so long and extensive you actually have to catch yourself before writing all that shit down because it was good.

HA yes.

I’d like to say that all of my daydreams that I end up writing are like that, but I know that isn’t true. I waited about a month before I started writing Breaking Furnace, and it took one of my friends asking questions about what in my daydreams was bothering to get me to write Sequence of Regrettable Happenings. I started writing Trollhunter’s: Subverted a few says after the daydream started, but I wish I’d started sooner. So many little details were lost from the first couple days.

The daydream sequence that brought Journey to the Center of Our Mind around is what I’m thinking of for this one. So much just started happening at once and I started writing it as soon as I could tear myself away from the actual daydream.’

On a vaguely related note, the beginning plot for Savior Destroy came out of an actual dream, and so did Damien, one of the paras/characters I have.

4. What is the hardest genre for you to write?

I’m not sure if this actually counts as a genre, but the hardest thing for me to write is physical fights. I’ve never experienced an actual fight, and I have a hard time balancing pacing, action, emotion, all of that stuff.

5. How often do you pull all-nighters (if you do)?

I don’t really pull all-nighters, but I come close a lot. I normally go into staying up past 2am expecting to stay up the whole night because I used to all the time. I never do, though, because I get tired and can’t function. I’m already so tired all the time, I have a hard time when I reach the middle point between normal levels and the I’ve-been-awake-for-36-hours-I’ve -never-felt-so-alive high. I miss the manic feeling of staying up the whole night, but it’s probably not a bad thing that I can’t seem to get there anymore.

I normally just end up making bad decisions lmAO

6. Is your writing better with or without sufficient sleep?

Without. I do good writing between like 8pm and 6am which is why I try to stay up so often, even if I know I’ll fail.

7. Do you have a favorite fandom? If so, why?

Favorite fandom, not really. If I stay on the very surface of fandoms, they’re fine but most of the time if I go any deeper I just end up getting uncomfortable so I tend to not delve. I probably like what I’ve seen of the Dragon Age fandom the most, though. Particularly DA2 because I will fight on my stance that DA2 is the best game in the series.

I just like things. I like the things and I especially like it when I watch/read/listen to things without my brain deciding to give me another 500,000 page-worth daydream to obsess over. Can I just be a casual fan for once in my goddamn life please.

8. What book would you recommend to anyone who asked, regardless of personal taste? (Doesn’t have to be your favorite.)

The Belgariad and The Mallorean. It’s actually two five-book series, but they are everything to me. It’s a fantasy series by David Eddings (and his wife, Leigh Eddings, though she wasn’t credited until much later), and it’s a wonderful coming of age story.

The Belgariad is really focused, most of the characters (except for the protag of course) know roughly what they need to do and who the bad guys are and where they need to go.

The Mallorean delves a lot deeper into the particulars of war. That even the ‘bad guys’ aren’t necessarily evil or irredeemable. There’s a lot more confusion, mystery, and the unknown plays a big part in how the story plays out and the decisions the characters make.

They’re Good Books.

9. Is there an author that you can’t stand? And conversely, one that’s on your auto-read list? Why?

I think I’ve answered a question similar to this on this blog. I haven’t really found an author that I hate, partially because if I start a book and can’t get through it I tend to forget that it and its author exists. Mostly, though, it’s because of how writing grows and a writer can do terrible work in one genre and be great in another. For example, I don’t really like most of James Patterson’s work because the way he writes crime fiction is a little too much for me. I love his YA modern fantasy/science fiction writing, though! Maximum Ride and (okay god I can’t remember what the series was called, like ‘W’ or something, it’s about witches) were genuinely enjoyable, even if they have some big continuation and plot issues that come along with the past pace at which authors like JP write.

I’d say that I want to read every piece of writing that Daniel Handler has ever created as Lemony Snicket. The voice in his work is SO GOOD and fun to read. I’ve been reading TSOUE to my sister and I’m noticing more and more that went completely over my head when I first read it in middle school. Some jokes that are more relatable now that I’m older, and I fully appreciate how terrifying Count Olaf is as a villain. I’m also in the process of reading ATWQ, which takes place in the childhood of Lemony and his first mission as an apprentice in the VFD.

10. If you were a published author, would you support fanfiction of your work? (This is tumblr so I kinda assume so, but some people wouldn’t want someone to “mangle” their work, if you will.) Would you support complete crack ships or ships that you didn’t agree with canonically?

This is kind of a double edged sword, to be completely honest. Since, even in the works I could publish, the main character is a version of myself from my daydreams, fanfiction could be a little weird for me to read.

But, like, fanfiction?? And fanart????? Of something I wrote?? That would be awesome. It would be cool to see how people see my characters, even if they completely fuck up the actual characterization. There is only one noncanon ship that I wouldn’t just say ‘oh, okay, not what I had in mind but fine.’ I wouldn’t ask people not to write it because you know write what you want, but Sawyer and Dominic is something that doesn’t sit well with me.

And that’s a wrap!

I’ll go ahead and tag @cadewrites @itstheenglishkid and @alextriestowritestuff

Okay, here are my questions for you! 

1. Do you have any pets? How about your OCs?

2. How do you beat writer’s block?

3. Where do you draw most of your inspiration from?

4. How do you and your OCs feel about pineapple on pizza?

5. If you had to choose a fictional universe to live in, which one would it be?

6. Would you get along with your OCs if you met them in person? 

7. Which of your OCs would burn a house down or overreact in a similar way if they even thought they saw a spider?

8. What’s your favorite time of day to write?

9. Have you ever written an AU of your own work?

10. Have you ever written a scene so emotionally charged that it hurt you upon rereading it?

A fun story relating vaguely to question 7. Once, I was drawing during the summer with the window open. A dragonfly zoomed in as I was about to close the window and go to sleep, so I abandoned my room in terror, screaming, and slept in the living room instead.

I’m not even scared of dragonflies?? They just don’t belong in my room.

[neurunique]

Hopefully this app don’t crash

Cause I’m about to write a RitalinRealisation🌈

First things first, I write so much shit before I get to the final point. So if ya get impatient skip to the end but trust me it’ll be WORTH IT.

was sitting in bed studying chemistry work when I realised something.

So for most of my life up until I started medication, I had symptoms of “bipolar 2”, ADD, autism spectrum, obsessive compulsive... etc. let’s just go short version and say I’m on the spectrum with a bit of manic depression occasionally (it’s honestly so rare I tried medication for it once and I turned into a zombie and I’ve received cognitive therapy for it so I’m STABLE that’s the main part) with VERY TEMPORARY and STRANGE attention span.

So let’s talk like... obsessions or “special interests”.

Whole life filled with obsessions where my brain just would. Not. Even. Try. To pay attention to ANYTHING other than the special interest; every conversation dictated by it etc, people be like can you talk about anything else? Like looool. Funny to look back at that (I still do it occasionally. It ain’t a bad thing I love it just damn it had some impact on those around me) and so when I got super obsessed my BRAIN would be like I Am SO HAPPY, I HAVE SO MANY IDEAS, THIS IS SO INTERESTING! TIS IS MY LIFE NOW. EVERYTHING REVOLVES around it, and it’s all I want to do, EVER. So like naturally my school grades were up and down during obsession phases, like, sometimes I’d get straight A in assignments I could relate TO THE OBSESSIONS. Like fuck me the train of thought would just COME. So I was good at that, most reports from school were like “Petal is amazing at what she’s INTERESTED IN but won’t even THINK about trying what she isn’t” (could’ve used Ritalin a long time ago tbh but irrelevant). Anyway anyway . DOPAMIne. That’s what I realised today. DOPAMIne and obsessions ! I draw write sing imagine... to do with the obsession and then bam dopamine. High of life . Who cares why, fights at home or rejection from peers it’s FINE I just DOPAMINE. It’s all I needed. And so yes, whenever I GO OFF MY MEDS IVE NOTICED

That like (why is Tumblr’s enter gap so huge ) I get that obsession mindset again, like I can’t do anything without the special interest. With my meds, the interest is still there, but my dopamine or mood is like LEVEL and not DEPENDENT on the obsession. Like I can do shit, study and converse and socialise and learn social skills I never did , with the dopamine levelled our. So like Ritalin doesn’t give me skills, it gives me balance . and when I go off it, I get “manic” as others see it, however it’s literally just the increase of dopamine due to the obsession dependence returning (literally opposite of drug dependence; the drug is the antidote and my brain is the dependence)

I’m literally just Sherlock Holmes addicted to my brain like a narcissist

AnywAaaay

So the times I’ve written bullions of fanfics about sonic? ~”manic episode” as they say MORE LIKE SUPER INVOLVED IN MY SPECIAL INTEREST

Gaming for ten hours to make one goal? Not manic just hyper focused because I love the game and the act and the repetition .

So yep. The conclusion is essentially this: my special interests are pervasive as fuck and luckily I can manage them with the use of awareness of sugar intake and dopamine levels otherwise influenced by things apart from medication; Ritalin helps me regulate dopamine but to be honest it sends me to sleep half the time (probably cu when I have the dopamine already, it’s like no sleepy time no mania for you); and it helps me be human - for the most part! I still burn out like a motherfucker, even on it - social interactions are draining during times of adjustment or stress (mostly always); I can only manage one or two a day now that I live with my partner. I could literally achieve a fucking whole novel if it was about my obsession (current ones are seven deadly sins and sonic of course although that ones kinda melting a bit, BAN FOR LIFE) without Ritalin to regulate myself, like I don’t feel dead inside on medication as some peopl describe it , I more feel like I can put aside those intense urges and addictions towards my obsessive behaviours and just carry on and FOCUS on things that aren’t the obsessions

Honestly if it wasn’t for the fact I get special interests, most of my symptoms would just be ADD. But ASD INCLUDES like special interests and social cues deterance (I been learning thougu, thanks to focus being level). So yeppp.

Oh also, Ritalin is more effective for me than Dexies because:

Dexies actually increase dopamine directly whereas Ritalin is simply a “dopamine reuptake” so like in my mind I feel like it doesn’t release dopamine , it simply does what the brain needs (my brain). Hence why people probably prefer aderall over Ritalin for study drugs whereas Ritalin helps me actually function,

If I’m tired, it’ll wake up a bit. Or it’ll send me to sleep. If I’m deep in mania or dependence on obsess, it’ll send me to sleep or bring me back to reality.

Antipsychotics don’t work on me; they make the world blurry and fuzzy and confusing; I am not psychotic and it doesn’t calm me down and it just makes me more anxious.

Tried to ask for benzos for when I’m anxious but doctor was like no ;.; good thing I am relearning my therapy skills.

I am extremely high functioning as an aspie, but the requirements to work thirty hour week jobs or 9-5 will just never be there for me. In terms of social burn out, even once I’ve leRned all I can about people and friendships, my brain will not be able to process it. If I live alone it’s easier but I love my partner So. I need so much alone time and he knows that, sometimes I feel bad but it’s just who I am. And I have tried to work normal hours before but I just can’t. Inwant to be able to work from home one day, whether it’s art (gosh I wish) or research... people mistake me for having depression or social anxiety but while I have a few symptoms of both at times (anxiety is super severe tbh) it originates from things like social burn out and claustrophobia. I am managing though and doing therapy SOON yay. I just had to write all this cause I’m trying so hard in real life not to explain my Behavior, something I done my whole life; now that I have been screened and I’m being officially diagnosed with spectrum disorders it’s just so tempting to rigt my wrongs with people by saying hey! This is why I did stuff that was confusing!

Aspergers doesn’t define me though nor is it my identity; I’m still ME the me I’ve always been; it’s great to get help for it but I really have to pay attention to my strengths and meet goals. Cuz it’s so exciting to have these revelations !! Hence text post!! But when I say it in person I speak too fast or too slow or I mumble and people think I’m MANIC (yes I appear manic but honestly just excited orndopamine releaze) by the way don’t ever tell someone they come across as manic unless you know the legit symptoms and you can differentiate between someone who’s excited about a special interest or realisation, or whatever, and actual manic episodes (they tend to last over a week and are accompanied by many symptoms including no sleep or food aswell as sometimes a lot of things beyond physical capabilities; sitting on the toilet writing an essay while relaxed and in the middle of assignments ain’t mania Jsyk) lots of my aspie friends get super happy about stuff or connection and we seem manic but we ARENT so just listen to the exact words we use and respond accordingly. Like... that’s just me tho. Sometimes I’m upset and it’s different, that’s just regarding conversation about shit I’m excited about~~~

SO YEP 👍 THATS MY RANT THank you Edit: I am manic bipolar