#or technically since i didn’t specify anything too solid with the character it could be another crossover

[stars-obsession-pit]

I think it’d be neat to see a DC crossover fic use the “bio kid of Bruce Wayne” thing not for like close family connection but more at a level of like… extended family. Or, well, specifically my experience with my that stuff; idk what other families are like.

By which I mean that they’re connected, but it’s a pretty loose thing.

Just like, oh yeah this is my bio father and his kids. It’s really not that important. I still live with my adoptive family and only really see them on holidays or if we randomly decide to visit. I guess I occasionally text his kids but we’re not close close.

Maybe it could show up in a plot from something like “ugh this is getting to be a problem, let me call Uncle Bruce and see if he can help,” thus demonstrating that it’s an established connection but not one that’s that important to their daily life.

[seeingteacupsindragons]

Richard  Ranasinghe de Vulpian’s Backstory is Very Queer: The A-Spec Amendment

I know, I know. I just posted the essay this morning, and I already have an amendment? Yes, I do, and here’s why:

When I wrote the initial essay, I kept things to an overview for a lot of reasons, but the initial concept I wanted for it was “queerness” and the way that essay was structured dove into a lot of experiences from a lot of different labels under the queer umbrella and a lot of experiences that are universal to the community. There’s a reason why it’s a united community. I just wanted to use that essay to write about queerness.

Also, technically, this one isn’t going to be about backstory, per se.

I didn’t specify any labels for Richard in that essay except “queer” and “cis” because those are what I know he is. Richard never labels himself in the series, and it’s because of the way the series is, I think that’s at least half intentional. Labels get used…sometimes in the series, but usually not in reference to actual characters, just as theoreticals.

But you know what I like? Labels. And Richard’s a fictional character so he can’t protest when I staple some on him. Labels like “ace” and “aro.” Because that’s what I think he is.

(Labelling real humans with words they don’t use is bad and wrong; don’t do that.)

I concluded that essay earlier with Richard having sorted himself out and figured out who he was by the time he was leaving Sri Lanka, or at least by the time he landed in Japan, since there was a little layover in Hong Kong for a while. But what if…no? What if?

Wait, wait, hear me out! This essay isn’t going to totally contradict my last one (although if it did, I wouldn’t care, because Lit Interpretation means allowing for more than one interpretation to be correct, and there’s plenty I don’t know). I think this amendment is compatible in a lovely way.

Queer is an umbrella term. Remember that post I made saying Richard spent the first three books with a crush he did not ask for being very mad about it? You want to know what makes people really frustrated and angry? Thinking they’ve figured themselves out and then something comes along that confuses that. You know who that happens to a lot? Gray-ace and gray-aro people. Because when you realize you’ve never really felt romantic or sexual attraction to someone, you get used to that, you work on accepting a queer identity that society is hostile too, and then suddenly you feel attractions you’re not used to? What even is that, why is it happening, and what do you do with it? Can you make it stop? Do you want it to? This was not you assumed your life experience was going to be like. Why is it changing? Are you still ace? Are you still aro? What if those people who told you that you’d change if you me the right person were right all along (they weren’t, fuck those people)?

There are so many questions that pop up when things change in your life. Richard has a long lecture about “sexuality can be fluid, suckers,” in Paraiba Tourmaline, and while gray-aspec identities are not inherently fluid, they can seem that way a lot, and Richard could well feel he transitioned from aro to gray aro or even from aro to gay, or aro to bisexual, or anything else. He was talking to Tanimoto, but that doesn’t mean his words weren’t rooted in things he experienced himself.

I think Richard knew he was at least queer by the time he made it to Japan. But I don’t know how much he knew beyond that. He knew he was weird and different and couldn’t conform to society’s expectations of him gender and relationship-wise. That’s all “queer” really requires, which is why it’s a lovely umbrella term for people who can’t or don’t care to puzzle it out further than that, and for all the people who fall under that umbrella.

And if he didn’t have romantic attraction to Deborah, which is a solid possibility, that means Seigi may very well be the first time he did have a crush, and once he recognized what it was…what? Why now? Why couldn’t this happen sooner? He lost so much not feeling that way about people. He spent so much time coming to terms with not having a typical romantic relationship; why does he want one now? Is what he feels for Seigi romantic? It’s certainly not the same as what he feels for most people. How can he tell?

And thus: frustrated Richard being frustrated and annoyed for books, until he, like Seigi, made it to the end of White Sapphire and went “Whether I know what this is or not, whatever it is, it’s desperately important to me and I’m going to fight to keep it forever.”

We don’t know for sure when Richard’s realizations were, or what specific moments they were caused by. If Act Three gives us this, I will lose my entire mind with joy. But there are a lot of little places it can slot in, and much like with Seigi, it can be a work in progress.

[1ff]

The Society of Multiples, Chapter 7

Second draft of my story about an alternate world where almost everybody is multiple. If you read it, you agree to leave at least two words in response. Constructive criticism welcome. Reblog unless you hate puppies.

Catch up: (Chapter 1) (Chapter 2) (Chapter 3) (Chapter 4) (Chapter 5) (Chapter 6)

Two chapters in one day? Why the hell not.

Let me know if you want to be tagged when I update so you don’t miss it ( @nevermindbinarity ) or search for the tag #thesocietyofmultiples

Chapter 7

Four long telephone calls to Shikakwa later, I had a guarantee of the reward and an taped television interview half a continent away. I didn’t care that much about the reward, because at the moment I wasn’t actually thinking that far ahead. The resources to do what I wanted- to either go back into hiding, or try to live in the open, would be useful. At that point in time though, everything centred around the interview itself.

I had negotiated a long list of specific demands, and in return proved my identity well enough to pass their scrutiny. I wanted to make sure that everything went off without a hitch.

I managed to find one remaining outfit and enough makeup of the right colours to resurrect my previous fake headmate. I gave myself a thorough examination in the mirror, and nodded approvingly. I’d managed to reconstruct Eron fairly decently from memory.

I was picked up that afternoon in a plain car driven by two people in completely average clothing, exactly as I’d specified. As I slipped into the back seat, the woman leaned over and shook my hand. “You must be Eron. I’m Macy, this is Cal. We’re so glad to have finally found you.”

I nodded quietly. “Thanks for picking me up.”

She smiled. “Is this to your satisfaction? I have to confess I’m very curious to know why all this secrecy. But I’m guessing we’ll all have to wait for your interview with Amy.”

I nodded. “Mum’s the word.”

“Well, that’s fine, you’re the star of this show. You call the shots.”

Cal started driving towards the highway to take us south. “We have hotel reservations just as you requested. Everything is all set up.” He had a very professional, deep, even voice. I got the impression that the t-shirt and jeans I’d insisted they wear were completely out of character for him.

“Good,” I nodded. “We won’t be showing up. We’ll be staying at all different hotels from what I listed, no reservations, all walk-ins.”

Cal chuckled. “I figured. I don’t know what you’ve got going on but this is going to be one hell of a trip.”

I watched out the window as we left River City behind- probably for the last time, for me. After this, there was no telling what would happen. With the group dissolved and deep in hiding, and Emma gone to whatever personal hell she’d chosen for herself, I didn’t have much left for me here.

“Tell me about Amy,” I asked, trying to sound like I was idly making conversation.

“She’s amazing,” Macy glowed. “Every bit as generous and kind and smart as she seems on TV.”

“And saavy,” Cal added. “Doesn’t take nonsense from anyone.”

“Her and Julian are a perfect power-couple for headmates,” Macy added. “Between the two of them they run a media empire nobody can touch.”

“Good.” Hopefully that untouchability can be passed on for a short period. Then something occurred to me. “Amy and Julian- is it just the two of them? A dual system?”

“That’s right. Weird, I know. In some cultures apparently it’s considered a kind of blessing.”

I wondered if that logic would make me doubly blessed, or half. In a life that sometimes feels like a curse, neither made sense to me.

I wondered if Amy and Julian would empathize with me on any level for being singular. There would be so many ways in which we would be similar, but then again, many ways in which we would be worlds apart.

I stared out the window as we went. It rarely really occurred to me how lonely being alone is, since I’d been so alone my entire life. Usually it confused me instead how they could handle never being alone. Even the way they used that word meant something different. They even had a special word for being not just physically but mentally alone: solity. They used it like a curse.

The drive was long. It would have been far quicker to fly, but without registration, I had no identification, and no passport. Crossing the border was tricky enough by road.

I watched my travelling companions over the next few days rotate headmates a few times, and new faces and identities introduced themselves to me in the usual custom.

Personally, I was done with the performance of it. I introduced myself as Eron each time, never bothering to fake a switch. Other than Eron’s particular shades, I hadn’t really packed any makeup or clothing to pull it off anyways. If they noticed, they never said anything.

I made requests as we went, some of them strange but serving an important purpose, but some of them just random. I insisted that each hotel we stopped at had a swimming pool, which was mainly so that I could sneak down there at night and just float on my back, experiencing the weightlessness and peace with my eyes shut. Usually I would get the swimming pool to myself; it was odd that even now, being one of the most alone people on the planet, I was craving even more solitude.

We took detours. Some of them had no real purpose, but some of them were to avoid larger cities and places where I’d heard of particularly strong anti-singlet sentiment.

At the border, of course, we were detained for four solid hours. The car was stripped off all our clothes and belongings, tossed out on the dusty parking lot. I sat patiently, explaining over and over and over that I not only didn’t have a passport, but no ID whatsoever. Technically, nobody was really required to have ID, but most people carried around a wallet or three swollen with cards that bore several faces and biographies along with the MRI proof to show that each was legitimate and registered.

And so I sat, expressionless, bored, ready for all of it, while people in uniforms interrogated me with the same questions over and over again. My only real plan was to just wait it all out; technically, by law, they couldn’t stop me from crossing. In the back of my head though, I remembered what Nora had said about the difference between what was legal, and what happened in real life.

It didn’t last that long though. I watched through a cracked door as Macy made furious call after call, and soon the entire office seemed to be saturated with ringing phones. People from Amy’s formidable forces of lawyers and interns and assistants were threatening, admonishing, and even diplomatically convincing everyone they could get a hold of that it was in their best interest to send us on our way. Finally they just let us go, exasperated.

As we drove south, I looked back at the border station in awe.

“When Amy’s determined to get something done, it gets done,” Cal said simply.

Another late night, another float in the pool. There was a couple in the hot tub, but they were keeping to themselves, and as my ears bobbed up and down across the waterline I heard only brief snippets of their conversation.

I felt an ache, though. Knowing that Emma had not only left me, but she had handed herself over willingly to suffering under whatever brutal techniques they were using to try and split up her mind and make her ‘normal.’ Unless I tried really hard to block them out, sometimes I would get glimpses in my imagination of her tied down to a bed with a block of wood in her mouth, her eyes rolling back and her whole body seizing as they shocked her with electricity...

I stopped myself again, then took a few deep breaths and let it all wash over me. I gave in to the anguish and anger and despair for a few moments, let it wash over me, and then pulled myself back from the brink.

My tears washed away into the water of the pool, and the chlorine disguised my bloodshot eyes.

As I rinsed off and changed into my dry clothes, I noticed that the couple was also leaving the hot tub. They seemed innocent enough- both handsome, tall men, one with dark hair a little longer than typical, the other a short-buzzed ginger. They laughed and made small talk about nothing really- something about how their trip was going, how the restaurant was last night.

But something didn’t seem right, intuitively. They seemed to be rushing a bit to catch up with me. I noticed the dark-haired one glance over at me a few times. Did he recognize me, or was he checking me out, or what? I’d worn only minimal waterproof makeup.

Or maybe- and I wondered if I was just being paranoid here, but- what if he was looking for me? What if Emma had actually sold me out, either under the belief that she knew what’s better for me, or under duress?

I moved calmly, trying to act normal, and beelined for the elevator. They were right behind me- they caught the door just as it was closing. I smiled uncomfortably and moved aside for them. They didn’t even seem to glance at the panel, just let the elevator doors close and continue their inane and practiced-sounding conversation.

At my floor they got off first, and walked ahead of me- but not too far ahead of me. I slowed down, they slowed down. They were pacing themselves to keep with the footsteps they could hear behind them.

I walked right past my room, gave no indication. Instead I went almost to the end of the hallway, then turned to a random door and pretended to be having trouble with my key card. I watched out of the corner of my eye as they turned to look, then kept walking to the end of the hall to inexplicably enter the stairwell as though suddenly realizing they’d gotten off at the wrong floor.

I backtracked carefully once I knew they were gone, and knocked on Cal and Macy’s door.

Macy answered the door in a t-shirt and jogging pants, obviously getting ready for bed. “Eron? Everything okay?”

“No,” I said quietly and urgently. “Pack up. Right away. Meet me in the parking lot in five minutes.”

She looked at me, hesitated only a moment, then turned around to get Cal. “See you in five,” she said over her shoulder.

In less than five minutes, Cal and Macy rushed out, suitcases in arms, a confused front desk clerk behind them. We tossed our luggage haphazardly into the car and piled in. Macy hit the gas in such a hurry that the tires squealed. I flinched; we were being too obvious, but it was a toss-up right now whether being sneaky or being fast was a better approach.

It was dark now, and it was easy to catch the headlights following us, but too hard to see the faces of the people in the car. I watched anxiously as they caught up to us, then put distance between us.

“I think we’re being followed,” I warned Macy anxiously.

Cal nodded in the passenger seat. He was fiddling with something; I heard metal sliding against meal. I craned my neck to see him loading a revolver.

My jaw dropped. This was only the second gun I’d ever seen in my life. How on earth had he gotten hold of one? Why did he have it? Was I being protected to the point that Amy’s people had gone to the lengths of buying and registering a gun? Where had he been stowing it this entire time?

The weight of the situation hit me suddenly. I’d asked for fake hotel reservations and circuitous detours in part because I was worried that Emma had turned me in, and in part to indicate that if Amy was serious she’d have to go to a lot of trouble to get me into her studio. I wasn’t sure when we set out how much danger I was in, and felt like I was overdoing the paranoia. Now all of a sudden all of that paranoia was collapsing in on itself. We were actually being followed by somebody, and we didn’t know why. Suddenly I felt like I’d been playing a game to satisfy my ego, and now things were turning serious.

Macy turned down a busy street, intentionally going off-track from the route to the highway. The car turned to follow. She made a sudden U-turn, from the wrong lane, without signalling. I watched as the following car kept going, but made a quick U-turn at the next lights and sped up to catch up with us again.

“Definitely being followed,” Cal mumbled. “We need to loose them.”

Macy nodded grimly. She looked out ahead of us and turned on the car GPS.

“I’m going to try another maneuver. Hold on tight.” She moved into the left-turn lane as we pulled up to another set of lights.

We waited at the red light, signal light blinking, as the intersection filled up with vehicles. The car that was following us pulled up slowly behind us, trying to keep their distance without being too obvious. In the light from the intersection though, I could just make out the two faces of the men who’d been following me earlier. It was definitely them. I ducked down to avoid being seen.

“It’s the men from the pool?” Cal asked, adjusting the mirror in his visor to get a look.

“Definitely.”

“Do you recognize them?”

I shook my head. “I’ve never seen them before tonight.”

The light turned green, and Macy hit the gas before the people in the cars across from us could react. She slipped through the gap just before it was closed up by the people going straight through the intersection. I heard tires screech behind us, a horn wailing. I looked out to see our followers stuck at the intersection, having tried to slip in behind us but only ending up getting snarled in traffic.

Cal smiled. “Macy, that was good.”

She nodded, smirking just a little. “We’re not out of the woods yet. But I’ve got us a route to a different interstate leading east out of the city. That work for you, Eron?”

I nodded. “Any way you can get us out of here works for me.”

We took a few more unexpected turns- some of them didn’t really seem to lead anywhere, but Macy was obviously winding her way through a plan based on the GPS device that eventually led us to the interstate. I was confident in her plan; for anyone who didn’t know this city, the path would not have made sense and they wouldn’t have known which route we left by.

Cal breathed a sigh of relief, stowed his gun. “I haven’t seen them since that left-hand turn you took. I think we shook them.”

Macy nodded, smiling. She made a deep exhale. “That was pretty fun. I’m not gonna lie.”

Cal turned to look at me. “You alright?”

I nodded. “Thank you. I can’t believe you did all that. And got away with it.”

“That’s why Amy sent us,” Macy said with a wink.

Cal returned to his calm, serious, professional mode. “Listen, it’s absolutely none of our business- we can’t really ask you about what’s going on. I know that. I’ll admit I’m curious, but you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to, and you’re probably wise to say as little as possible. But things are escalating now. If you can tell me anything- anything you’re comfortable with- well, it would potentially be useful to know who’s following us and why.”

I nodded slowly. “To be honest, I’m not entirely sure. I was afraid that someone was looking for me, but I didn’t expect them to be this determined. I’m amazed they managed to catch up with us this far down the road.”

“Do you know whether they intend to catch you, or harm you?”

“Both,” I said carefully. “But I’m pretty sure they want me alive.”

Cal nodded. “I think… this is going to be a very interesting episode of Amy’s show.”

“Julian’s going to love what it’ll do for the ratings,” Macy added with a smirk.

I leaned back in my seat, checked my watch. It was already past 1 AM; odds were we wouldn’t stop for a hotel for a few hours. I tried to make myself comfortable on the back seat, but didn’t really expect to get any sleep after all that happened.

The adrenaline wore off hard, though. Before I knew it, I was dozing off.

I resurfaced on the edge of sleep a little later though, when I heard voices.

“You’ve got to admit it’s strange- we’ve been with him almost 24 hours a day, we haven’t seen-”

“Sssh. Careful, Macy.”

“Don’t worry about it- he’s passed out pretty hard back there.”

I felt my consciousness drift up and down across the threshold of waking; I wasn’t sure at first if the conversation I was overhearing was a dream or something happening around me.

“Look, I’m just saying- it can’t be him, on front all the time. We haven’t seen him switch, at all. You ever see someone front that long?”

“Yeah. College. Exam times. It happens.”

“You’ve got to admit, it’s strange. There’s something about him that’s not normal.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know. I know we’re not supposed to speculate, but-”

“-but you’re wondering the same thing I’m wondering.”

“About who he is. What he is-”

“-and who’s following him-”

“-and whether he’s safe.”

I struggled to hear more, but felt myself fading away again.

I woke as the car pulled into the parking lot. The sun was out; my watch told me it was eleven, and I had to do a double-take, momentarily confused between AM and PM. I had slept, but not well. Macy and Cal looked exhausted and harried; they’d been ready to drift off to sleep hours ago, when we’d left in a hurry.

Macy and Cal slept, and I promised not to leave the hotel grounds without one of them. I wanted to go down to the pool to float and process everything, but in the middle of the day it would be full of people, and I felt nervous now being alone.

The next two days, we pushed even harder to get there faster. The deviation east, and our various detours, had cost us time; now, we were trying to get to Jernigan as fast as possible. If we’d been filming at the head office in Shikakwa, we’d have made it by now, but Amy’s show was filming furthur down south and she’d insisted we meet her there. Macy and Cal drove in shifts; I volunteered, but they insisted I keep my head down and stay safe.

As we drove south, I lost a layers of clothe. River City had been heading into winter when we left; Jernigan was practically tropical. I was not used to weather this warm or humid, especially this time of year.

Each state border we crossed brought a new sense of relief; further from the land I left behind, and further from whoever was following me. It still boggled my mind that someone would be so offended by my state of solity that they would be following me this far to try and retrieve me and take me home for their forced therapy. Was being alone in my head so dangerous to the world that I had to be tracked across federal borders by spies? I kept wondering what was underneath it all; obviously this was not all just ‘for my own good’ in some self-justifying therapeutic sense. There had to be some kind of agenda underneath it all, but it was difficult to figure out what.

I knew they saw us as dangerous, heartless, cold, cruel. They accused us of murder, pedophelia, abuse, manipulation. But even if they knew I was singlet, I’d never done anything wrong- they couldn’t prove anything, they had no evidence, they surely had no warrant- was being singlet enough on it’s own to justify following me so far just to take me home and subject me to their treatments?

There had to be more to it.