#i've had friends stress over things like 'do i seem gay' IT DOESN'T MATTER!! IF YOU'RE GAY YOU'RE GAY

[hyenafu]

I know this might seem like a bit of a random question, but what are some criticisms of Slightly Damned you can't stand, and what are some you think are at least somewhat valid? I only ask because I do have a few problems with the comic (not really gonna go into here because I don't want to come off as too critical obviously) but I feel like some of the more noteworthy ones have been too long established to just change it altogether, and the best one can do is make something better from its foundation (which I must say, you've done a really good job at ^^)

The complaints that I think are the most unfair are by bigots who think my comic is only getting more inclusive because I'm pandering to wokeness or whatever. These people are also the most likely to misgender me and have no idea what they're talking about. They just can't stand the bare minimum of gay and are often hypocritical, using fallacies as the basis of their arguments. It's tempting to want to argue back, but when has that ever worked on the internet? I think the most valid complaint is that the pacing of the comic is too slow. Sure. Not much I can do about that one. My comic alone doesn't pay all my bills. If I focus exclusively on work, I get depressed, so I have to goof off sometimes. I'm just one person. I don't have a team. I'm doing the best I can already. Another valid complaint is that people don't like my blend of humor and drama. Sometimes readers find it inappropriate or jarring. It's valid because I recognize it as a difference of opinion and understand why they feel that way. But I don't care. I like my weird mix of goofy faces and drama. I sometimes make jokes during periods of great stress in real life. I love all the wacky faces and over-the-top cartoon action among dire circumstances in comics like One Piece and Usagi Yojimbo. Like, it's just my style, man I don't seek out unsolicited advice about my comic. Some people may think that's snobbish of me, but the truth is, very little of what you find that way is actually valuable.

"And as to those critics, she said that she’s managed to do something that might make us all better off- she doesn’t read the comment sections. In perhaps the most roundabout poignant part of the talk, she likened receiving feedback about her work as being like consuming food. She would take a pie from someone she knew and trusted but compared taking unsolicited barbs from strangers as “licking a handle on the subway.” She used to pay very close attention to that kind of critique because she felt that it somehow would make her a better creator but ultimately decided that it was only toxic." - I HAVE SEEN OLIVIA JAIMES, THE CARTOONIST BEHIND THE NEW NANCY, by Rocko Jerome (2018)

Besides the outright hateful sentiments, a lot of unsolicited criticism can be categorized as "I don't like this story because it didn't do what I wanted it to do." Which is fine. I do the same thing when I try to process stories and talk to my friends about them.

But I don't get in the author's face to tell them I think they did a bad job. At the end of the day, no matter how crap I think someone's story might be, I'm not psychic. I don't really know if they did exactly what they set out to do. For example, people have never stopped giving me crap about the death of certain characters. But their whining has only made my convictions stronger. I don't like when other stories don't take deaths seriously, with a real sense of permanence and grief that is not easily solved. To someone else, seeing that character be alive might have solved all sorts of problems they had-- but that's not my story. I've had someone tell me that the focus on Buwaro and Kieri's mushy romance is too distracting to the main story. I don't think that person knew that a large part of why I started making this comic in the first place was as a vehicle for my OTP. I also want to make said vehicle entertaining and worthwhile. If I didn't succeed for that person, that's fine. But don't tell me that half the reason I made the comic is distracting from it. What do they know about what I want? What do you really know about what the author wanted to achieve? That isn't to say that my comic is immune to scrutiny. Of course it has problems; every story has problems, depending on your perspective and the basis by which it's getting judged. I've solicited and received thoughtful criticism and helpful advice from teachers, my advisor, my friends, and from reading/watching tutorials. Some I agreed with, others I chose to ignore. Sometimes it just took a while for me to come around. I hope I never stop learning and improving. Like you said, I have to keep working with the foundation I already set. But I don't feel trapped by it; my creativity is being challenged in new ways. I have a lot of playing pieces and now I get to see what kinds of connections I can make between them with my older, more experienced (both good and bad) mind. Since Slightly Damned is a story serialized over a long period of time, a certain amount of it is made up as I go along. I do have plans and goals, of course, but I'm also discovering this world alongside my readers.

[eliounora]

people seem to forget there's so many ways to be queer. you don't have to follow a certain style or fashion. you don't need to pass if you don't want to, and it's fine if you "seem cishet". you don't need to label your sexuality or gender. your labels don't need to make sense. you can be contradictory. you don't owe a damn explanation to anyone. embrace compexity and refuse to make sense.

[spookymultimedia]

A Summer to Remember Ch4

CW: internalized homophobia

the f slur and queer used as a slur

[Ned Pov]

My eyes fluttered open to the sound of birds early in the morning. It was still dark outside. I looked down at Maude who was spooned into my arms. I recalled the conversation we had last night. As much as I wanted to hide from it, it was clear that I was homosexual. . .a queer. The word queer made me wince for some reason. I was gay, I was a gay man. It made too much sense. I bit my lip suddenly remembering something that happened in my youth. I remembered being in a group of.  . . secular non-Christian people. It was the early 70s and no one knew where I was. They didn't have to know. It was simple teen curiosity; there was a desire to explore the world that was kept away from me. Again, I always had an innate curiosity to understand. It's impossible for a person to be perfectly free from sin. It was only human nature to have sinful tendencies. What I'm trying to say is I tried marijuana. It wasn't that bad. I actually felt less stressed than I  usually was but let's not focus on that. There was this boy. This boy who was good with the guitar. He had long hair and wore blush from time to time. He called himself bisexual. I remembered how comfortable I had gotten with him one afternoon where we all were hanging out by a river. I remember the smoke and the lesbians who had made love in the shallow water. There were s'mores and homemade tea. By all logic I should have felt scared I was there; I wasn't. 

        I got up close to him by my own will, I remember. He asked me if I had ever kissed a boy before. I hadn't. He asked if I wanted to. Despite the quiet guilt in my soul I nodded. We kissed and kissed again and again until I got a hang of the rhythm. I liked it. The more I reflected on the memory, I remembered how much I enjoyed it. I stared at the window thinking while watching the warm glow of sunrise touch the curtains. I really am gay aren't I?

      I looked down when I felt Maude move and wake up. She stretched her arms and legs and blinked awake. She smiled at me, "Good morning." 

          "Mornin." 

She pressed a small kiss on my cheek and sat up. 

       "You don't have to do that kind of stuff to me if you're not comfortable." 

            "Hm? Oh. .I'm sorry it just felt natural I don't know. Are you uncomfortable?"

    "No, not at all. . .shouldn't I be uncomfortable?"She shrugged. "It doesn't mean anything inherently romantic to me. . .does that sound silly?" 

 I shook my head, "I don't think so. .but I get what you mean."

She rubbed her eyes and played with her hair. 

      "So. . when you said you where gay last night do you mean. .?"

         "That I'm a. . . lesbian? Yeah, yeah I think I'm a lesbian. Sounds right." 

  "That's just lovely Maude."

She frowned, "Is it? I. .thought it wasn't right to be. .-"

     I laid there thinking for a minute, "Is it really wrong?"

        "I'm not sure. . "

"It's just love. I can't see what's so wrong about it. . . Maude I. .I kissed a boy when I was younger." Why did I suddenly feel ashamed? It was just a kiss. Imagine what my uncle would say. He'd probably call me a f*gg*t or something. What would Reverend Lovejoy say? I suddenly felt sick to my stomach.

     "Oh? Hm. . . was it nice?"

"Yeah. ." I stared at the wall again.

        "Are you going to tell them?"

"Me?"

    She nodded.

"I'm not sure. You?"

        "I'm too scared."

"I understand." I pet her upper back to comfort her.

[Maude pov]

      After breakfast we followed Tim and Helen led us to the Rock climbing area. There was this gigantic wall in front of us. It had multicolored rubber rocks that I adored. It wasn't my first rodeo with rock climbing. I had climbed with Ned plenty of times. I smiled up at them with anticipation. I had on some white tee from a church event and

jean shorts that reached my knees.

"Now this exercise is supposed to encourage teamwork and support in each other. When this world brings you down you need to have someone to encourage you." Helen explained as Timothy put on a harness. Helen looked at me puzzled as I put on one myself.

        "What? It's not on backwards is it?"

"Oh, no it's just that. . ." She trailed off looking at my harness. She bit her lip lightly for a second before her concentration quickly returned. "Well I was going to have Ned climbing the wall but that's fine that works. . .Maude, are you sure you can?"

      "I've done this many times." I smiled and laughed. 

"Oh. Okay." She said a bit surprised.

Was it just me or did she blush? Was she checking me out. . .? No, no it had to be my imagination. I dismissed any other possibility of why she looked at me like that.

      Once me and Tim were set up we started our climb. I made a speedy start grabbing onto each rock I saw available. It was fairly easy. I made a mental note of the colors. I loved them. Red pink yellow pink orange red blue green red turquoise. I focused on the rocks and moving.

  "You got this Maude!" Ned cheered. I smiled and kept on climbing. I glanced over at Timothy who was only a couple feet from the ground. It seemed I had more upper arm strength than him. I wouldn't have guessed. 

    "I believe in you Timothy! You're doing great. One at a time." Helen cheered, encouraging him. God bless her, she's so sweet. He nodded and slowly found himself a bit higher. At some point I got stuck. 

     "Go left, use your legs!" Ned coached. I nodded and did as he advised. Tim had caught up with me before I made my way ahead of him again. Before I knew it I was at the very top. 

I sat on the wall and smiled as Ned clapped for me. Helen was clapping too. So cute of her. I stared out at the trees and the shimmering lake as Tim was making the rest of his way up. Do I like Helen? I asked myself. Of course I did, she's been my best friend for years. But, Ned was also mine for longer. Yet, something in her sparkled that hadn't in Ned. Every time I had saw her, things we're better. I felt . .giddy. Oh. . .oh. I do love her. I love her more than anything. My chest had ached. Oh God, I love her. 

   "I'm so proud of you!" I looked down at Helen who was cheering at her husband who loved her too. She loved him. She loves him, not me. She's straight, I think. It didn't matter anyways. I sighed. Still I couldn't help but smile. I was in love and couldn't do anything about it. I wonder how Ned was coping with this yearning. I then faced the wall and quickly leaped my way down. With gravity and my emotions taking over me I couldn't help but laugh. I landed on the ground giggling. "That was fun." I snorted and covered my mouth blushing. But then she laughed too. "Oh Maude, that's adorable." She put an arm around my shoulder. Oh God I could kiss her right now. She's so close yet so far from reach. So I just stood there blushing and smiling. Tim slowly but surely came down with a bit of a dizzy stumble. Ned was close and caught him. For a moment the two men were arm in arm. Tim smiled bashfully and a tad embarrassed. 

       "Thanks." 

    Ned stared at him a moment before helping him stand-up straight. "You did great, Reverend." Neddy said smiling. The poor thing. He must feel the same ache in his soul. He has to. 

[Ned pov]

          Later that day I found Timothy by the river. He was just sitting there watching it flow. I had to ask. I needed to know what he thought on the matter. Despite everything, I felt in my soul it was right and only natural. But I just needed to know. You always need to know, it'll be death of you, Ned. I sighed and walked up to him before sitting by him on the grass by the sore. "Hi Reverend."

      "Ned, we're friends, you can just call me Timothy. Really I insist."

         "Of course. Timothy," his name was so intense. Calling him by his name was so tender and intimate it almost felt wrong. "I wanted to talk to you about something. Well, I at least wanted to hear your thoughts on the matter."

         "What is it?" He looked at me slightly exhausted. I felt a pang of guilt. He probably wanted a break from being asked things everyday. It had to be exhausting. But I needed to know. I knew it was important.

    "What do you think about homosexuality?"

                   "Hmm. . ." He hummed and looked out on the lake. "Sexual deviance isn't a good thing."

      "Deviance?" I felt a bit hurt. Was it really cheating if my wife knew how I felt. I mean, it would be if I kissed a married man. I wanted to kiss a married man. Am I lusting? Is this sin? The homosexuality couldn't be though. "Is it really deviance??"

    Tim paused to think again. "Well. Hm. There are some verses-"

            "I know, I've heard about them. But I don't think they're talking about homosexuality. It could be just an error. It could be referring to a completely different sin. But if you don't mind my boldness Reverend, I really don't think it's a sin at all."

     He nodded slowly, pensive. 

"There are verses that have forbidden the consumption of some meats that were unsafe at the time. . .hmm. That's not a sin at all anymore. Perhaps there was a misunderstanding. Prophets are still human after all." He stared at the water. "I suppose homosexuality isn't so bad. Why, it's not bad at all. I mean everyone feels sexuality . . .right?" He looked a bit confused. I wasn't sure why. Was he gay? No. . . was he?

          "I believe so."

He stared at the water thinking, I assume. I looked at those hands that tempted me. Guilt was burning me alive. 

      "Timothy I've been sinning!"

He looked at me startled at my outburst. 

      "Ned. . Ned, why are you asking me about this? Is. .this why you and Maude are having issues? Are you gay?"

I froze.

        "Ned you said it yourself and I agree, I don't think homosexuality is a legit sin."

"No. I mean, no that's not the issue." I felt my eyes water. 

"Ned. ."

        "I've been lusting after a married man! That's a sin!"

       "Ned. . .are you talking about me? Do you like me that way?" His eyes were wide. 

       "I do." I started to cry. 

"Why are you crying?"

         I looked at him like he was absurd. 

       "It's lusting!"

"Eh, well. You're not acting on it. I'm sure the Lord understands your intentions and will forgive them."

     I shrugged, "I understand if you're uncomfortable. ."

         "Not really. Don't worry about it."

"I just don't want to ruin anything."

          "I understand."

"How long have you felt like this?"

                   "I . .I don't know. Maybe I was born like this." 

      "Born??" He looked confused.

"Well not literally. I mean. I've just always liked men." I rubbed my arm anxiously. I was still trying to make peace with myself.

     Timothy stared at the ground, his eyes furrowed.

 "Like them?"

           "Yeah. Like I've just always wanted to.  . .kiss them and stuff. You know?"

 He slowly shook his head looking a bit lost.

   "I don't understand."

I suddenly felt sick. Did he think my attraction was that weird?

       "It's just the same feeling that you get  with women."

    He fiddled with his hands. He looked really uncomfortable.

    "What's wrong? Is it me?"

"No it's not you.  You're fine Ned I promise. I'm glad you decided to come to me about this." He closed his eyes and bit at his finger gingerly. I had seen him do this a couple times. It was usually when he got stressed or something. "Does Maude know?"

"Yeah. She took it well." 

        "Good." He stood up and walked off.

[jcmoneydick]

TharnType SS2 Episode 5

I love how Type has the nerve to ask how Tharn knows he met with Miss Nana. I find it even more hilarious when Type realizes he's been played.  Even more hilariously, Type just negated one of his issues with getting married during this confrontation. By telling this stranger that Tharn is gay, Type is running the risk of the entire company knowing and judging them. It seems hot headed, jealous Type doesn't care who knows that Tharn is his.

I do have a newfound respect for Miss Nana for not outing Tharn out of spite. Also, if Tharn wanted to snoop on what Type was posting, why didn't he just log into IG? They both need lessons on being sneaky if they're gonna do it.

Type is being so oblivious about Fiat and I cannot wait until Tharn finds out. THAT will be actual jealousy. I would love to know exactly what Type is thinking while talking to Fiat. It seems Type wants to almost baby him. He entertains him. To a narcissist like Fiat, it would seem inviting. 

I know Fiat is not Leo's responsibility. That being said, I really really want him to call Fiat out. Fiat's behavior is getting out of hand. He is obsessive, and ignoring his friends for a shot he cannot make. Leo deserves better.

Phugun and Type's conversation further details Type's maturity. It also rubs me wrong. Would he have spoken to Tharn about this without Phugun's interference? Probably not, considering he only asked for a shoulder to lean on.

I think a big reason Type won't say yes to Tharn is his dad's approval. It would explain why we saw so much of Type's dad in this season. It also explains why Type doesn't want to unveil his relationship to the world. "If my dad won't support us, why would anyone else?"

Dr. Khunpol is the cutest thing about season 2 so far. I really wish they show more of them in later episodes, the new love butterflies are to die for. I really appreciate how Doc is there for Type. Who would've thought Doc had higher up connections? The supervisor's reaction is annoying though. People complain about work, no matter how much or how little there is. The supervisor is just a grade A asshole.

Type has had the largest character development. He realizes he was wrong for snapping at Tharn and actually apologized. He's under a lot of stress, coming from all angles. His boss is shitty, his boyfriend wants to get married, his dad "doesn't like" his boyfriend, he can't go home for the holiday. 

After all of this, I'm ready for the drama to hit so we can get the wedding. It's episode 5 and I think I've said the same thing over and over. We're in the second quarter, and I feel like nothing has really happened… Let me know if you feel the same.

[clean-bands-dirty-stories]

The Best Things ~ J.V. (part 8)

A/n: This part is super upsetting. Character death, graphic violence, I dare even say gore. Homophia, which I should have been warning a while back I am so sorry for that. Things are gonna get HEAVY- I am so sorry lol.

Word Count: 3800+

Playlist

Masterlist

"Nah, you're not crazy," Harleen giggled.

"Says you," Y/n teased, rolling his eyes. "You may have a doctorate, but you're also bias."

Her smile widened. "Okay that's fair." Y/n sighed, sitting back in his chair. He looked down at his hands, smile small as he got lost in thought. "What's on your mind?"

"Harleen is kind of a mouthful," Y/n told her. "Do you like the name?"

She tilted her head, as if considering. "I never did. When I was younger I had a friend who called me Lee, but with things happening-" Y/n's face scrunched up and Harleen snorted. "Exactly. Name's already taken- and it would be even weirder if I went by Dr. Lee, so I scratched it."

Y/n nodded. Then he sat forward, his elbows resting on the table. "So you've never had any other nicknames?" She shook her head and then shrugged when Y/n donned a surprise expression. "Well I have to give you one then. That's what friends do, right?" She grinned at Y/n's words and he watched the room get a little brighter. She was magic like that- as if she was made of sunshine. Her happiness was contagious, and she made the world a little better. She was accepting and also calm, making him feel safe as well as loved. She was his best friend and he was hers and they gave each other something they couldn't get with anyone else: unhindered fun with absolutely no expectations. It was an odd place to find real friendship in, but here they were anyway. "What about... Leena?" She immediately shook her head and he chuckled. "Uh... I mean, there's always Harley."

She considered that. "You know what, I like it." She crossed her arms. "Harley Quinzel." She nodded. "I'll allow it."

Y/n rolled his eyes. She was only like four years older than him, but had far too quickly fallen into a rhythm of acting like an adult talking to a child every once in a while, as a joke. Whether she was flaunting the years she had over him, or the schooling, Y/n wasn’t sure, but he refused to acknowledge it and it had become an unspoken inside joke between them. "What about you? I have to give you one now."

Y/n shrugged. "I don't like nicknames."

Harley tilted her head, the bottom of her blonde ponytail brushing her shoulder. "Why not? You like giving them."

"Well, yeah..." He bit his lip. "It's just, every bad guy has a code name, you know? Oswald Cobblepot goes by Penguin. Edward Nygma is going around as Riddler. Then there's Mr. Freeze. I just feel like if I take an alias, it'll be official you know? I'll be as crazy as the people I associate with and as evil as everyone says I am."

Harley hummed. "Okay, that's fair." She sighed, raising her hands to rest her chin in her palm. "Speaking of people you associate with. You and Jerome..."

Y/n's mood darkened. It had been a while now and Oswald was gone and Jerome still hadn't made an appearance. "I think he's mad at me." Harley tilted her head in confusion and Y/n shrugged. "I left with Alfred because Bruce needed me. Didn't give him a heads up, and then went missing for, like, months..." He shook his head. "Maybe he thinks I've gone back to my old life, or that I've left him behind. I just feel like he's avoiding me and one doesn't usually do that for no reason, so I figure-"

"What if he's just busy?" Harley proposed.

Y/n snorted. "With what? Reading a really good book series?"

Harley pursed her lips. "I guess you have a point."

"Why do you even care?" Y/n asked, raising his hands to knit his fingers behind his head.

Harley stared at him silently for a long time. She had the look on her face she always does when she'd trying to read Y/n's mind. When she's analyzing everything she learned in school and looking at the actions and words that he was currently giving as context, as well as past ones, and then somehow putting it all together to figure out the secrets sometimes even he didn't know. The same magic that made Arkham home also gave her the ability to read minds- Y/n had determined she was a proper superhero.

After she reached some kind of conclusion - she always nodded after she'd done the reading and then switched which leg was crossed over the other - a little smile teased her lips. She was trying to hide it. And failing. Y/n tried not to be curious. Usually when Harley didn't tell him something it was because he wasn't ready to hear it... but that smile. It was too late. He had to know. "What?"

Once he asked, the gate broke and she grinned. "You're in love with him."

Y/n snorted. "No. I'm not." The coy curl of Harley's lips added to her raised eyebrows to make Y/n doubt himself, even though he could feel his feelings and knew that it wasn't... he didn't... no way. "He's important to me," Y/n gave. "I care for him. But... love..." Y/n shook his head. "I don't know about that. There's been too much going on- I haven't had enough time with him."

She nodded, expression serious, as if this was a very important discovery. "I call Maid of Honor at the wedding though." They locked eyes as Y/n went to tell her off, but then a slow smile rose to her face as he realized she was joking. They both busted up into laughter.

"Whoever I marry, the position is yours." He winked at her and she flipped her hair, both of them giggling.

A timer went off. Harley stood, gathering her stuff and sighing. "That's my cue. Same time tomorrow?"Y/n nodded then stood.

He draped his arm around her shoulders. "You know, you make this place bearable. You're a real friend to me." He kissed her forehead. "What would I do without you, hm?"

She rested her head on his shoulder for a second before they began walking and it got too awkward to coordinate. "Probably the same thing I'd do without you. Be alone and miserable." She popped up on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek. He pretended to gag and she fell into a short fit of soft giggles. "You're an idiot."

"Ah and yet what I lack for a brain, I make up with a big-" He cut off and she groaned. "Heart," he enunciated. He smirked and she rolled her eyes. "I have quite a large heart, full of love for my favorite gal." He shook her slightly, making a point that said gal was her.

"Every lesbian deserves a best friend with as little brains and as big a heart as you," Harley joked.

"And every gay deserves a best friend with as much brain and just as much heart as you." He finally let her go as she moved to the door that would lead outside. This is where they parted- her, to home, as he was her last patient as per usual. Him, further into the Asylum where he would have dinner then return to his room to be alone and sleep. Goodbyes were the pair's least favorite part of the day. "Until we next meet, Madame," Y/n initiated, pulling away to bow deeply.

Harley grabbed her doctor's coat lightly, pulling it out as if it was a dress as she bowed back. "I shall count the seconds." They laughed one last time, waving before she turned and left. He watched her go until she disappeared. She turned back several times to wave yet again, until she couldn't see him either just by turning around.

The second she was out of sight, the world lost a little color. It was a little darker. His smile got smaller and Y/n's shoulders sagged. He shoved his hands in his pockets before turning back to the hallway that lead to his room, beginning the trek.

A hand on his shoulder stopped him. People rarely touched him. The only person that touched him like this was one that Y/n hated so much that his hands curled into fists in his pocket, his face suddenly cold and empty as he stared straight ahead, halfway through a step- his foot on the ground and extended, but not carrying him forward as it had been intended to. He took a deep breath through his nose. Unfortunately, in all the chaos and people getting booted from Arkham after beating on Y/n, the one person that meant the most hadn't been caught because everyone refused to rat him out.

The man who'd started it all.

"You and her..." The older guard mused, a nasty smirk on his ugly face. "I thought you were gay." He said it mockingly, like he'd caught a child who hadn't said they weren’t hungry sneaking food when everyone seemed to be asleep.

Y/n rolled his eyes, forcing his body to relax as he faced the man. The monster. "Not every girl in the world was born solely for men to shove a dick into them, Jameson." The older man glared and Y/n smiled, getting satisfaction. "As a matter of a fact, Harley and I are just friends."

"You're pretty affectionate for just friends," Jameson argued. Y/n still didn't know the man's first name. He didn't care enough too. He didn't want another name that tasted bitter in his mouth. He already had his fingers crossed he'd never meet a cute boy with the last name Jameson, because the name alone would ruin Y/n's chances before he'd even taken a shot. No reason to make it even harder for himself.

"We're comfortable around each other." He rolled his shoulder back once, slightly stiff from sitting so long. Jameson wouldn't attack, knowing that Y/n would report him instantly- especially in such an open space, with cameras and the chance of someone rounding the corner any second - but one could never be too safe, just in case. "She gets me like no one else does. But, as you so wonderfully pointed out, I'm GAY." Y/n enunciated the word, going the extra mile by taking a step closer to stress it even more. "Girls aren't my thing."

Jameson looked like he wanted to deck Y/n. The younger boy's lips curved into a mocking smile in response. Now the guard was the one who had to control himself. "You guys have a lot in common?"

Y/n shrugged, too caught up in his casual gloating that Jameson couldn't act out like he wanted to- like he used to be able to. "Enough. We talk a lot. She's cool." He relaxed thinking about Harley. "She doesn't think I'm crazy. It's nice." He cleared his throat, focusing back on the enemy in front of him... only to immediately be confused by the very odd expression on Jameson's face. "What?"

"Nothing," the man dismissed, moving to leave. "I've heard enough. You're both a waste." He shook his head as he left and Y/n glared at his back until he was gone. Then the boy turned back toward the cell and finally made his way.

Man, why did he have to be surrounded by such assholes? Why couldn't Harley be around all the time? Why couldn't he be free? They could get an apartment and talk all the time. Help each other get through life and protect each other from unwanted attention. Be themselves all the time. Make jokes and exchange irritated expressions when idiots like Jameson said stupid shit like he always tended to.

Tomorrow. He'd see her tomorrow. That wasn't too far away.

He could wait until then.

-

Y/n's knees gave out from under him and he fell, cracking them on the cement. He didn't even feel it. His attention was being completely held by the TV, which was turned onto the news. It was a small screen that had been installed in one of the Day Rooms recently. They were rarely ever allowed to watch the news, though. In places like Gotham, far too often the news held very upsetting content that set inmates off- either into panics, or into violent rages. Y/n had stood to turn it off when he'd realized what news was being shared. Someone had been murdered. Old news. This was Gotham. Then he'd heard the name.

"23-year-old Harleen Quinzel was found dead earlier today. Her body was badly beaten, with words carved into her stomach. It was the cuts on her wrist that were the cause of death, though it's been determined that none of this was self inflicted. We received a photo of the body recently. Beware: what you're about to see is not for the faint of heart."

Suddenly the screen was showing the broken body of Y/n's best friend. The sunshine girl with the bright smile and the contagious laugh. The girl who was going to be Y/n's Maid of Honor. Y/n's better half. She was limp and unmoving, her eyes wide and empty. Her skin was pale, nearly white, except for where dark, huge bruises and blood discolored it. Her hair had been cut off, the blonde locks left next to her head but clearly detached. Her shirt had been rolled up to letters on her stomach- carved as promised.

There was an L next to a G, in a circle and crossed through once. Underneath the symbol read: Sinner.

Someone was talking, but Y/n couldn't make out what they were saying. A hand in his shoulder and he looked over to see a concerned guard. A woman. She knelt next to Y/n, but she wasn't the one touching him. No, that hand belonged to Jameson, who had a sick expression on his face- a cross between smugness and victory, muted as if he was trying to hide it, badly masked by some version of concern that was so unconvincing that Y/n ripped his shoulder out of the older man's hand.

He was on his feet again and running. Out of the room and to his cell- despite all the people who kept asking him what was going on, and someone in the very back changing the channel as the news reporter announced, "If you have any information, please contact-" Y/n ignored the rules. He ignored the people yelling at him. He ignored the people trying to stop him. He just started running and he didn't stop until he was in his room, where he opened the door and closed it behind him. His heart was ramming against his chest and all he could hear was the rushing of his blood in his ears. He saw black spots and felt an emotion bubble up that he couldn't even begin to put name to. All he knew was that it was dark and twisting and it was very quickly consuming everything good.

Something in him broke. It snapped off. Something vital. Y/n was aching, but he didn't know what it was or where it had fallen to as he lost it. He just knew there was suddenly a gaping hole where something very important used to be, and he felt absolutely terrible with it gone.

On the upside, he could finally breathe. His chest loosened and his body relaxed and as the door opened behind him, he turned to see the person with complete calm.

"Jameson." The word was not a greeting, but more of an observation. No. It was an accusation. The older man smiled and Y/n's insides began to twist and boil- less like a tightening of anxiety and more like a snake, seconds from attacking. "Why?" He stepped forward. "She was innocent."

Jameson scoffed. "You think you two are subtle? You two act like you're together and then talk about how you're not- you just 'get' each other." Jameson shook his head, cracking his knuckles. "You're spreading your sickness, Y/n." The snake coiled tighter, hissing and spitting. Y/n felt his calmness very quickly drop, perfectly placed with rage. His body didn't move, he just suddenly had a bunch of energy and he was waiting for the perfect moment to use it. "You two aren't quiet either. Strutting around here acting so out of line, in front of me. Acting like you're not being evil." Jameson scoffed. "You're evil, Y/n. And if they wouldn't let me punish you here, I'd have to get more creative. Even if you don't see it, you're in love with her. What you think you are is unnatural, and I knew if you could see how you really feel-"

Y/n's hand was around the man's throat. Jameson tried to push the younger boy away or claw his hand off, but Y/n just rammed him into the wall behind him. Jameson's head cracked against the grey wall, his efforts suddenly becoming useless. "You think I'm dangerous as a disease? You're so desperate to cure me. You're about to find just how very dangerous I am, Jameson. All on my own, with just my two hands." And then he began to squeeze. Jameson writhed and fought and clawed but when he started to get strong, Y/n would smash his head again or ram his knee into the man's junk and the efforts died down once again.

It took longer than Y/n thought. Jameson started to change color, his eyes bulging and his lips moving desperately but nothing coming in or out. Just when the man seemed about ready to pass out, Y/n let him drop to the floor. He gasped, clawing to try and get away. Y/n smiled, toeing the door gently closed. Jameson squirmed away, features taken over completely with terror. Y/n felt amazing.

"You will never hurt another person, ever again." Y/n squatted down, taking the man's thin hair in his hands. "Me however?" Y/n giggled. "You've helped create a monster. Know that every person I kill in the future is on your hands. Every injury is your fault. I'm not a violent person, Jameson." He snorted. "Well, I wasn't. But it seems you fuckwads only answer to violence, so..." Y/n shrugged casually. Jameson shook his head, choking out pleads for his life. Y/n snapped the man's neck and he stopped begging. It was so easy... The silence was wonderful. Y/n felt a weight lift off of his shoulders. "I'm done sitting idly while assholes run Gotham." Y/n stood, not even bothering to do anything but leave the door wide open as he walked calmly away, grinning like an idiot.

Something had been broken and lost indeed. It was Y/n's self control. His moral compass that kept him grounded and toeing the line between good and bad. It was the thing that kept reminding him he was a Wayne. That he was a good person. That he had a family that depended on him, in some way or another. That he had Alfred and Bruce, who he did want to visit even if he also wanted a life outside of them. That he had Oswald, who most often found solace in Y/n's sanity and depended on his restraint to reel him in when people were trying to set him off; Oswald needed Y/n's sense to balance his emotions. And, overall, Y/n was driven by pure spite not to let those damn reporters be right. He would be good and successful and he would show all of them that he could be more than the black sheep of the Wayne family. The disappointment of Gotham. The failure, always in the shadow of the Golden Boy younger brother Bruce Wayne.

But those people who Y/n cared about so much had let people like Jameson walk around, unhindered and unchecked. They had let him get beat up for a very long time before he was nearly killed and their hand was forced. They had let evil people run around and control things while they locked up Y/n for being gay. For being attracted to a man even though he wasn't a woman. There were murderers running wild, with super powers and incredible genius, but the problem people were deciding to focus on was that Y/n was gay.

Well, he was done with the lot of them. He was going to get out and prove to all of them that he was more than a Wayne. More than a mistake. More than a shadow. More than evil or good. More than Bruce's older brother. More than the one dude who had feelings for Jerome Valeska. More than one more gay plague on the face of the planet.

They wanted a monster? They would get one. And Y/n wasn't going to stop until he was satisfied, even if it meant all of Gotham had to die.

-

"Knock knock."

The door opened and Y/n looked over, his face finally showing emotion as his surprise rose. "Jerome?"

The redhead smiled, striding toward Y/n as if he has a tasty treat to share. "My little lover boy." Jerome hooked his finger under Y/n's chin. Y/n yanked his face away. Jerome frowned. "Are you mad at me, pretty boy?" Y/n glared at him. "I'll take that as a yes." He leaned backward. "What have I done, My Darling?"

"You've been avoiding me. We haven't talked in, like, months Jerome. What the fuck?"

"A tad dramatic," Jerome hushed. "And not totally fault." Y/n opened his mouth to argue but Jerome gently grabbed Y/n's throat, pressing his fingers gently into the skin. Their faces were suddenly very close and despite himself, Y/n suddenly felt a thrill to finally feel their skin touch as cheek brushed cheek. "I've been busy planning our escape, if you hadn't noticed." Y/n's eyes drifted to see a nervous Jonathan Crane and Jervis Tetch. "Come with me, won't you? I think we've been apart long enough."

Y/n suddenly began to relax. He didn't manage to smile, but he did get excited. "Well... lead the way."

Jerome left an excited kiss on Y/n's cheek, letting his hand fall away from Y/n's throat in favor of shooting into the air in victory as he giggled, turning to his two partners. "And so we all escape! Come now, we don't have much time." Y/n stood as Jerome lead the way, all four of the men finding their way out of Arkham Asylum finally.

The fun was about to begin.

[the-amalgam-house]

With everything that's been happening irt family and finances, I've been in a horrible depressive episode for what feels like many months now. Maybe it's only been a couple, idk, but it seems longer. I had to drop D&D again indefinitely and it's just. Like I know I don't have the mental capacity for it but it still bums me out, you know?

I asked my mom how everyone is doing over there after the last incident and she says it's not too bad, kinda stressful but things look to be working out. She also told me to put my trust in God and pray, as she always does. Even after I've made it clear that I'm not a Christian anymore, she still tries. Which I'm not like mad at but I'm really not ready for any type of major religion or whatever, and especially not the one that caused me the most sorrow and trauma.

I don't NOT believe in God. In fact I believe that all gods do exist. Maybe not all on the same plane of existence, but they do all exist in some form, beyond normal human perception. But the church and the beliefs of the people are what burned me. And technically that one isn't god's fault, it's human being human and showing their capacity for evil. It's mistranslations and personal bias being written into religious law by self-righteous god-kings and pastors/deacons/wannabe saints...etc. It's how humans set up the religion and told everyone it's God's will that really fucked me up. It's those people who hurt my friends and family so badly they never want to believe in anything beyond ourselves because something having that much power over humanity is terrifying and infuriating when all you want is to be left alone in peace.

I guess I still get a little mad. I've asked her not to get preachy at me before when I was really angry. I know she does it with good intentions, but I still roll my eyes when I'm told I should pray about it and show reverence to a god that people always told me would send me to hell just for being me. A vindictive and jealous war monger who shuns anyone who's a little different and tells their followers that their children are better off dead than living in sin. A very "do as I say, not as I do" mindset that never did come off as the type of deity that encompasses "love" but demands it through fear.

I'm tired of hearing it. I'm tired of being told that's the only way. I'm tired of trying to justify my existence and my worthiness to some man-made version of a "kind" and "loving" god who, according to his followers, has already deemed me an abomination destined to eternal torture. For what? What in my entire life could I have possibly done to deserve that? People who commit the worst global scale atrocities known to all creatures on the planet are praised as godly and just people, but a truly kindhearted human who just happens to be trans or gay or mentally ill in an undesirable way has to face utter destruction and despair into infinity? All while those corporate greed CEO oil drilling slave labor capitalist literal taint cheese manifested into a wicked simulacrum of a parody of a human are allowed to rise to idol status and sainthood in the eyes of the church.

I want absolutely ZERO part of that. I don't even want to be remotely associated with that by proxy. I want it so fucking far away from me and my life except I have to live in it, wading up to my nostrils in the fucking doo-doo swamp that is American Christian capitalist culture. The denomination doesn't matter, they're all fucked up. Baptists, Presbyterians, Protestants, Catholics, Mormons, Witnesses, there's like a thousand of them I can't remember them all and any time a sect tries to be any kind of progressive in any way the vast majority condemns them as not being real Christianity and just...

Like fuck off. Fuck off forever. Most humans don't deserve to suffer but the idea that one day there will be no more humans is somewhat soothing tbh. Fifth or sixth mass extinction event happening cause of these rich white cis straight greedy mega church evangelical tech bro assholes not giving a shit about the planet and the people and creatures on it.

Please I hate being here so much. I hate money. I hate mainstream Christian culture. I hate the nuclear family model. I hate technology enabling crypto bros and art theft. I hate that all our amazing technological advancements are all put to use in war and suppression instead of healthcare and infrastructure. I hate everything about this country and the state of the world currently and please I don't want to BE here anymore!!!