#spin the wheel of: what did skull just remember and/or experience to make this post?

[aromacaque]

Something I don't think a lot of queer people understand because the aro/ace community is very online-oriented is how little people actually know about aromanticism.

I feel like if you're predominantly in queer spaces (especially online) then of course you have at least heard of aro/ace identities, but IRL I have only met like 2 other aro people. Ever. In my entire life. Most people I meet tend to only know a little bit about it, or more than likely know nothing at all. Most people I meet have never met an aro person ever in their life (that they know of), and it Really shows. Because I think generally speaking most people know of other sexualities and trans people to some degree (i.e. gay, bi, trans). If they don't they definitely know of them. But that's not the same for aromantic people. So whenever I talk about myself, unless I explicitly give the label out to them so they can have a word to associate with my "abnormalities" or the things they think are strange (or even wrong) about me, then they just stare at me like I'm an anomaly.

I have been stared at like an anomaly. I have had many moments with people where me just being vaguely honest about my love life (or lack thereof) has been met with confusion and discomfort from the people around me. Multiple times where I can tell people are uncomfortable and HAVE A PROBLEM with me for either offhandedly mentioning I've never had a crush or just not having much of anything to contribute to a conversation regarding that stuff.

I have also had people claim they could be the exception or that they could "fix me." From both straight and queer people by the way.

My entire existence challenges so much of these people's concept of how social conventions work and so they immediately pinpoint me as being different.

To add to this, that feeling of alienation is very present in queer spaces as well. Being the only aromantic person in the room of other queer people, who claim to be accepting, yet you're always the afterthought? If even thought of at all? That's.. not really acceptance, is it? I don't think so.

I could get into more detail with this but the gist is that I've always felt more comfortable in queer spaces as a trans person than I ever have been as aromantic.

I genuinely don't think other queer people actually grasp how alienating and oppressive socially the experience of being aromantic is. They just see us as "basically cishet" or "QPRs are basically just dating!" when that couldn't be farther from the truth. The way I experience attraction is fundamentally different to the majority of the population, cishet AND lgbt sexualities combined. And it's really annoying to be treated as if we don't ever experience prejudice due to it.

[llamagoddessofficial]

Thank you @eldritch-and-tired for commissioning this lil’ /Reader piece of @megalommi‘s Sans, Baggs. I will ALWAYS be a simp for this sexyman. Enjoy!!

Tw: injections, unwilling hypnosis/mind control

...

You giggled.

The light was so pretty. Swirling, undulating, cyan and magenta warping and shifting in and out of one another in an endless hypnotising rhythm. It made you think of a funfair... spirals everywhere, from the tops of the stalls to the decorations on the rides, to the signs leading you around to those huge lollipops that tasted tooth-meltingly sweet. Happy memories, carefree, far away and non-solid but still wonderful. What were you doing? You couldn’t remember anything. You liked blue and purple, they were everywhere, all around you, such pretty colours. 

Pretty, pretty...

“... there we go. easy now.”

... You didn’t realise he was even there until he (somewhat cautiously?) spoke. Your senses were just colours. The voice was odd and a bit disembodied at first but slowly, slowly, you became aware of its source- a face hovering just over you. The awareness spread to your body, too... you were bent at an odd angle with your feet just barely lifted off the floor, your back flat on a rather uncomfortable table, gravity pulling your hair and cheeks. And he... he was just a few inches over you, pinning you by one of your wrists.

...

A tight and tense, cutting smile, clear signs of stress around his face and shoulders making it obvious that this was the smile of a man on the edge and not one of any particular joy. Deep sockets, so wide they looked borderline painful, glaring down at you with so much intensity...

... You could feel his body heat. And his breath against your face. Your heartbeat, your slightly itchy nose, how tight he was holding your wrist.

“... Mh... Huh?” You said, ever-so articulately, vision spinning in the same direction as the swirls emanating from his left socket. A similar way to how the world rocked when you were dizzy... except for you, it never righted itself. It just kept spinning and spinning and spinning. Everything was so bright, as you fell under a pleasant fuzzy sensation burrowed into your chest and mind, blanketing your thoughts as if you were just in the middle of a nice dream where nothing much mattered.

“shh...” 

When he gently closed his gloved fingers around something you had gripped in your pinned hand, you put up no fuss, loosening your hold and allowing him to take it... when did you pick up a scalpel? What an odd thing to have. The back of your head hurt and your knuckles felt the telltale aches of having been tense a few moments ago, even though they were now just an unwound coil like the rest of you.

... Dr. Baggs let out a long slow, breath. You could feel it against your nose and neck, he was that close... his mouth open barely a crack, the magenta hue of his tongue glinting against his fangs. 

“... alright.” He said, voice silky, gentle on your thrumming ears and head, sockets easing around the edges as he calmed down. The bluish shadows of sleep deprivation under them became more apparent as the tension in the room, face and posture waned. “that’s better.”

... Yeah. You thought, relaxed and calm. It is.

... He gave you the bare minimum of personal space, leaning back and helping you to sit, lifting you with the perfect combination of gentle but firm as if he knew you’d immediately feel so dizzy when you became upright. Your hands moved up and held onto his shoulders to steady yourself- the fabric of his lab coat was surprisingly soft, it was very nice to touch. 

... He was so close. Supportive but strict hands on your elbows, your knees on either side of him, he smelled like... the artificial flavouring they added candy that just wasn’t quite natural. And a specific, scented brand of antiseptic; clean and sterile and prepared.

“... well.” He hummed, reaching out of sight for something with one hand. Your forehead would bump his collarbone if you leant forward any more. His voice was so soothing and calming, especially since you were only a few inches from his clavicle... you were getting pretty close to shutting your eyes at this point, but a prick in your arm kept you from completely nodding off- you barely noticed it, too busy studying the aesthetically pleasing purple trim to his coat and enjoying the funny fuzzy sensation in your chest and temples. Oh, he suddenly had a full syringe in his hand that he was putting a cap on... where did he get that? 

“i knew from the start you’d be uncooperative, but... not that kind of uncooperative.”

He held something up to your face. You opened your mouth, (wait, why am I opening my mouth...) and he quickly placed it on your tongue. You swallowed, again, without knowing why... it was like your body was following a list of instructions that you couldn’t see or hear. Someone else had taken the wheel; tugging the right strings to make the right parts of you move when they were needed. 

... You didn’t think about it much. No panic, no confusion, no considering the implications. The thoughts were disconnected... just ships in the night, sailing by your muffled brain. All you could really think about was how whatever he’d given you was very strange and bitter and ew, you cringed, an odd acrid taste lingering in the back of your throat.

... Another prick in your arm. That’s weird, he keeps pricking me. Oh well. This time, you looked just in time to see him removing a now-empty syringe; he wiped where he’d poked your forearm with something very cold, then placed a little circular red band-aid over it.

...

There were six other band-aids on that forearm. Two green, three navy, one black... and now the red one.

Hm... I feel like I should be alarmed by that...

Again, all you could think about was how nice you felt right now. Dizzy, warm, safe. Like you’d had a little too much to drink, but now you were laying out in the sun with your friends... I miss the sun...

“most of my ‘patients’ are at least... consistent.” Baggs hummed, continuining to hold you carefully by the elbows, predicting your post-jab swaying. He didn’t seem to realise he was talking aloud, just a scientist observing his experiment, and you weren’t really paying enough attention to what he was actually saying- too many words to process, boooring. “uncooperative awake, uncooperative under. you’re always displaying aggression toward me... and yet as soon as you have no control, there’s an obediency so immediate it’s borderline subconscious. rather fascinating.”

Instead, you...

“... Sexy voice.”

...

...

“... what?” 

Apparently, that was enough to finally break him out of his thoughts. You glanced up at Baggs’ face, still only a few inches away, you kept forgetting where things were around you... the cushion around your soul never wavered but for a moment there was a little blip in the swirls. A slight interruption.

“Mmmhm.”

...

... His expression sort of... well, ‘melted’ was the wrong word. It was more akin to the sun peeking out from between two clouds. The detached, observational, scientific air to him thinned and began to evaporate... revealing something a little more warm.

The razor and unfriendly edges of his smile were rounding into something organic. Perhaps even, daresay, resembling forward. 

“my.” He purred. “how forward of you.”

“S’very nice. Very smooth...” Your tongue felt... eh. And your arm, where he’d poked you, was starting to itch. “And you have a nice face too... handsome man. I think so.”

...

His smile started growing even more, and he leaned back an inch or two as if to look at all of you and make sure you were really the same person he’d brought into this examination room less than an hour ago. “... oh really?”

“Yeah...” ... Your hands had been just holding onto his coat... but, spurred on by your sudden drunken confidence, you properly looped them around his neck.

... He blinked, but he only let himself appear taken aback for a moment or two. Despite how ominously his magenta eyelights glowed in his dark, shadowed sockets... you could tell he was enjoying himself, and this sudden turn of events. “i’m flattered.”

You laid your head on his chest. It was getting kinda hard to stay upright. 

... Your nose scrunched.

“Funky smell, though.”

That was enough to get an actual laugh out of him- albeit shortlived, his skull cocking like a curious mirthful bird. “are you... genuinely telling me that i smell, darling?”

“Yeah. Because it’s true. You’re gremlin.”

 “i’m... gremlin?”

“Mhm.”

“stars. i wish i could tell pap about this.”

Your body shifted, enough to make you lightly squeak- things were spinning so much that it took you a minute to realise Baggs had picked you up, an arm hooked under your legs and another around your back.

“you’re all done for the day, pet.” His eyelights had become a thrumming, almost amethyst colour as he looked at you, a far gentler shade of purple than his previous headache-inducing magenta. You weren’t sure what’d caused that but you weren’t complaining. You weren’t sure what’d caused him to carry you either, considering he usually just brought someone to collect his ‘patients’ for him... but, again, not complaining. “it’s time to get back to your room.”

“I feel funny.” You mumbled.

“that’s normal.”

He started walking. The halls all looked the same, as he moved through them, blending into one another... white and sterile, a few doors dotted inbetween if you were lucky but mostly just the exact same tiles and patterns and lack of anything that would clue you into the fact that people had actually (at some point) existed in this area. 

“Hm... is this where you work...?”

A little chuckle. He was sounding further and further away. “yes. this is my job, dear.”

“It’s so g... ug-ly.”

“oh? you think so?” Baggs’ tone had become... light? Perhaps a little teasing. 

“Jus... put up some nice posters, or something.” Your head was so heavy. Since when was it this heavy? You had to rest it against his chest, feeling that nice fabric against your cheek, hearing an equally nice humming sound from inside his ribcage. “Paint the walls. It’s so... white. Clini... ...clinicic... Calic...” 

“clinical?”

“... Yeah.Tthat.”

A gloved phalange touched your arm. It was probably an attempt at a comforting gesture- stroking the skin. “good to know. i’ll make sure to pass that eloquent advice along to the decorating team.”

“Good.”

He brought you to a cell-like room. It was... vaguely familiar? A bed with one pillow, thin white sheets... some strange posters and a window with bars over it. You felt like you’d spent a long time in there, but it was impossible to think straight enough to actually muster up any memories.

Baggs laid you down on the bed, slowly, handling you like you’d fall apart at any moment. You made a little noise- it wasn’t a very soft bed... but it was good enough. And your body felt so strange and tired that any soft surface honestly was nice enough to lay down on forever.

“comfy?” He asked. Since when did he inquire if you were comfy?

“M... no. S’whatever.”

...

You peeked at him, crouched by your bed... and you reached out, pressing your inexplicably heavy finger against the top of his nasal cavity in a booping motion. You mumbled a little victorious “Silly skeleton.” 

...

He took your hand in his gloved one, gently, before it could go limp and flop down. You couldn’t really make out his expression at this point.

“don’t tell the other subjects...” He murmured... he sounded amused, at least. “but i think you’ve become my favourite.”

“Course.” You shut your eyes. “I’m... m’amazing.”

“... yes. course.” 

A feeling, like a kiss on your hand, before he placed it by your side.

“... go to sleep.”

...

And just like that, your body obeyed him before your head could even process what he’d said, and you were asleep.

[pasdecoeur]

batlantern. O.

O. The stars or space. (ahahahahhaahaha remember when this was supposed to be a minific. it’s not a minific. fuck me.) (T, 1.6k, Hal Jordan/Bruce Wayne, complete) this fic is now on ao3.

send me a ship and i’ll write you a fic!

don’t you dream impossible things.

“Hey, so you remember that asteroid belt in Alpha Centauri?” Jordan asked, plopping into his seat in the monitor room, and shoving a vellum scroll in Batman’s face.

“You’re late.”

“You’re repetitive,” Jordan replied. “Are you gonna look at this?”

Bruce kept quiet. Eventually, it would penetrate even the Green Lantern’s enormously thick skull.

“Oh, what? You want me to apologize? I’m sorry. I had shit going on. Cut me some slack. Have I ever not turned up when it matters?”

Bruce kept quiet, and Jordan snorted. “Seriously,” he said, unfurling the scroll, “listen to this, ‘On the event of the Ascension of the Mir— Mirhhh—’ I can’t pronounce this. It’s the kid, you remember him? The little god-prince?”

“He’s the leader of their religion. He’s not royalty.”

“Hello? As good as!” Jordan countered enthusiastically. “And hey! You remember him! They’re inviting us to his, I don’t know, his official elevation to the post — inviting the League, I mean.”

“A formality, of course.”

“I mean, probably, yeah.” Jordan turned to the screens, and they peaceably watched a minor storm system form in the Southern Indian Ocean, and then dissipate when it hit an underwater cylon buried off the coast of the Maldives. “God, he was just a baby when we were there, wasn’t he?”

“Mm.”

Jordan turned to him. Bruce could feel the force of his gaze. “You know what… You know what? We should go.”

And then Bruce did turn to him. “I beg your pardon.”

“We should go!” Jordan enthused. “C’mon, it’ll be fun. I’ve read about the Ascension ceremonies, this is like, a once in a century deal! It’s literally epic! And the kid, you remember him, he thought you were the shit. He was so impressed by you! I bet he’d get a real kick out of it.”

Bruce rolled his eyes, and turned back to the monitors. “It was four years ago. More likely than not, the boy doesn’t even remember us anymore.”

“Aw, c’mon, Spooky. Ain’t nobody who can forget you.”

Jordan’s voice had dropped a little, and Bruce turned to him once more. Hal was watching him, eyes bright, mouth curled up in that warmly satisfied grin, the smile of a man who knew exactly how good he looked. And Bruce fought the urge to look down, look away, heat crawling up the back of his neck, before he fought it down again.

“Tomorrow night, yeah?” Jordan continued, in that softened, low murmur. “It’s only a two hour round trip in the Jav. We drop in, say our how-do-you-do’s to the prince, duck right back out. I’ll pick you up at eight.”

---------

But whatever Lantern’s schedule was for the intervening eighteen hours had him a proper wreck — he stumbled into the Javelin hangar, blinked blearily at Bruce, mumbled, “Hey, you drive, ‘kay?” before weaving dazedly into the back and conking right out on one of the bunks.

The flight was easy, and they docked in a bustling spaceport on the Ginaheri asteroid cluster an hour fifty later. Jordan had woken up on re-entry, and had managed to put himself together by the time they disembarked.

Where the kid was waiting for them, in person.

“Rain?” Hal asked incredulously, “What are you—?”

“Lantern!” Rain crowed, darting away from his attendants, and throwing his wide blue palm up for a smacking loud high-five, before Hal grabbed him, laughing, spinning the gangly kid around and carefully setting him down. Rain looked over Jordan’s shoulder and the jewel-like facets of his amber-gold eyes went luminous. “Batman?” he said in a tone of reverent wonder.

“Hello, Rain,” Bruce said, stepping forward. Rain was practically vibrating, the iridescent silver markings around his eyes taking on an electric gleam. Batman touched his shoulder, and then smoothly sank to a knee, so their eyes were level. The Ginaheri were not a tall people, and even by those standards, Rain was slight and delicate looking. He reminded Bruce of nothing so much as Dick, in the dark, early days, before he had become Robin. It made something in his throat seize, and when he spoke, his voice was gruff. “You’ve grown taller.”

“I didn’t think you would come,” Rain said shyly.

And Bruce felt a rush of gratitude towards Jordan. “Of course I did.”

Rain smiled at him, the sharp black of his canines glinting in the low light. “They’re putting up the weather dome in Tevona. You wanna come see?”

Bruce rose up to his feet. “There is nothing I would like more,” he said gravely, and made no comment when Rain locked his hand around two of Bruce’s fingers, tugging him off and away.

And over his shoulder, he glanced at the Lantern, who had apparently been watching them with the strangest little smile, bemused and off-kilter, papery soft at its edges. Hal had… never looked at him like that before. ----------

They ended up staying for the complete length of the ceremonies, before heading back to the Javelin. Bruce sank into the copilot’s seat and proceeded to ignore takeoff procedures entirely in favour of his tablet, and six weeks’ backlog of financial data Tim had forwarded to him for review.

They had put several thousand miles between themselves and the asteroid cluster before Hal said, “You think he’s gonna be okay?”

“Rain?” Bruce said, scrolling through Tim’s data dump. “He’s a good kid. Smart, tough. Got people who care about him. He’ll be fine.”

“PUtting a lot on him, though, isn’t it? The new gig?”

Bruce shrugged. “Kids are more resilient than people give ‘em credit for.”

He could hear the smile in Hal’s voice when he spoke. “You’d know, huh?” He paused a beat. “You’re very good with him. I’d forgotten that.”

Bruce kept his eyes on the tablet. “It’s merely a matter of experience.”

“Nah,” Hal replied easily. “I’ve got three brothers, and we all came out— Well. You’ve met me. Experience doesn’t count for much.”

“You think I haven’t made mistakes?” Bruce countered quietly. “Because, believe me—”

“I’m not saying you were some kind of model-perfect, you know, a Mr. Rogers dad,” Hal cut in, waving a hand dismissively. “I just think kids can forgive a lot, right? If they know they’re loved, right down at the— At the core of things, if they’ve got that to hang onto, kids can forgive pretty much anything.”

Bruce was quiet for a time, trying to understand what that meant. He was pretty sure there was a compliment buried in there somewhere. Trust Jordan to… He huffed a laugh, and that got his attention, brown eyes swinging around to rest on him.

“I wanted to thank you,” Bruce said.

“For?”

“For insisting we visit Alpha Centauri. I wouldn’t have, but I’m… glad we did.”

“Oh,” Hal said. He sounded a little… stumped. “I mean, sure. Of course.”

Hal stayed quiet for the rest of their ride back to the Watchtower, and Bruce quietly, ruthlessly pushed down the little voice in the back of his head wondering if he had, somehow, as usual, found exactly the wrong thing to say.

They spent the remaining hour plus change of their flight back in silence, and Bruce got out of his seat before the Javelin had even entered the docking bay, tucking the tablet away, and headed to the bay doors at the back for exit.

But Hal must have engaged the autopilot for wheels-down, because he was at Bruce’s side when the hydraulics on the Javelin began to engage, looking antsy and nervous, tugging at his hair, looking like he coudln’t figure out what to do with his hands.

“Get it out,” Bruce muttered.

“What?”

“Whatever you need to say.”

“Oh.” Hal looked faintly gobsmacked. “Um. If you– DId you mean it? Before? When you said…”

“Yes,” Bruce said slowly. “I’m glad we— yes.”

“Okay,” Hal said. “Okay, so if you really want to me make it up to me—”

“I didn’t realize I owed you now—”

“I was thinking—” Hal continued loudly.

“That must’ve hurt. Did you strain something?”

But Hal just snorted, and the tense lines of his shoulders smoothed out, beautifully and all at once. He was grinning now, shaking his head. “You dickhead,” he murmured. “That’s some kind of reflex for you, isn’t it?”

Bruce sighed. It really was.

“So if you wanna make it up to me? You should, um. You should let me take you out to dinner.”

Bruce paused. Blinked. Surely… Surely he had misheard. Misunderstood. “Dinner,” he repeated.

Hal was leaning back against one of the struts, and that smile had never really gone away, but it was warmer now, profoundly intimate. Hal was watching him, and Bruce couldn’t tell— couldn’t understand what his face was revealing. “Dinner,” Hal confirmed. “And you can take that any way you like.”

“Any way I like,” Bruce repeated once more. “Any way I like?”

Hal’s smile was widening now, and the temperature in the hangar bay rose a little more, like he was putting off heat, like the California sun had sunk into the bones of him and he was spilling it into the air, radiant and beautiful. The expression on Bruce’s face must have been some kind of stupid, because Hal laughed softly, and hooked a finger around the utility belt, and tugged. Bruce went with it, let Hal bracket his knees, let their bodies stumble together and collide, bracing himself only just with a palm he slapped against the cool metal strut above Hal’s head.

“Any way you like,” Hal murmured, sliding a hand around the back of the cowl, and pulling Bruce close. His mouth brushed Hal’s chapped, soft lips, and there was an bearable lightness crowding in his chest when he curled his fingers around Hal’s jaw, its fine, honed razor-edge, and it felt like it was all he could do, to hold on, to hold him, to kiss and kiss, anchored in the quiet, as they spun through the dark reaches of the ionosphere, starlight all around them.