send help. DC and Overwatch are ruining my life.

main blog is shockingEvacuation please talk to me about dc and OW. im begging you. please please please plea i take requests and ideas!

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Uh, wow, some of my posts are getting. Kind of popular! So! Index time I guess! I'll try and keep this as updated as I can, but if you're looking for new posts make sure to check the Conner Writes tag! I might've forgotten to index one here.

Fandoms

DC/DCU Overwatch More to be added!

Got a concept you want me to try my hand at? I take requests and ideas!

[duckdotcom]

would you put a discarded fruit sticker on my forehead in whimsical jest yes or no

[finleycannotdraw]

reblog to put a discarded fruit sticker on the forehead of the person you reblogged from in whimsical jest

[sanguinifex]

You gotta read and watch some old books and films that aren’t 100% modern politically correct. I’m not saying you should agree with everything in them but you need to learn where genres came from to understand what those genres are doing today and where media deconstructing old tropes is coming from.

Also, more often than you might think, they’re not actually promoting bigotry so much as “didn’t consider all the implications of something” or just used words that were polite then but considered offensive now.

Kill the censor in your head.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

When we choose to avoid history because it's Problematic or Says Bad Things, we are choosing to divorce ourselves from understanding how we came from that time to this one, which makes it even more likely for the cycle to repeat, with no one but a few people with shelves of old books aware that it's happened before.

[swimmingblue]

and this shit's important. Media from the past tells us how people from the past acted and thought and behaved.

Plus, a lot of these media pieces were socially acceptable and/or progressive for their time. For example, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, while it contains a lot of words and ideas that are offensive now, was very progressive for its time. The book is a statement piece for how a young man who's grown up in a racist environment, with no words to explain himself other than racist and bigoted ones, decides that the whole system is shit and he's not going to follow those rules any more. So not reading or engaging with it because it uses the n-word a lot really misses the point.

[artistformerlyknownasbutttrumpet]

i was training a young person at work, and she referred to sexual assault as "SA" out loud, and i immediately was like, "no, it's sexual assault, call it what it is," bc idgaf if the algorithm overlords have taught y'all that you should fear direct language, how tf do any of you expect to ever address real issues with any amount of seriousness if you can't even say the words? imagine an advocate looking a sexual assault survivor in the eyes and asking "did he grape you?" it's absolutely fucking absurd, but these young interns and new hires are coming into an environment where we deal with survivors of all different kinds of abuse, and they're coming with the mindset that the words are as bad as the actions, and that makes them shitty at the job and look juvenile af

i HATE self-censorship for a lot of reasons, but being in crisis work makes it even more frustrating. who are you censoring for? like i am being so fr, WHO are you censoring for? have you even thought it through? people who have been raped know that they have been raped. if someone attempts suicide or is grieving someone who did, saying "sewer slide" isn't going to protect them from any of the feelings. a murder victim's family isn't going to feel better bc you said "unalived" instead of murdered. if anything, it's just extremely invalidating and othering. it's saying "what happened to you is so bad that i won't even say the word," which is NOT trauma-informed care. you are not protecting survivors/victims when you self-censor. the ONLY things you protect when you self-censor are the puritanical ideologies that are being encouraged by rich fascists who want your money and obedience

say the fucking words, guys. just say the goddamn words before i go insane!!!

[abomination-of-yondo-deactivate]

Hey since TERFs buried the original, higher quality recording, here’s the only surviving recording of trans activist Sylvia Rivera’s infamous “Y'all Better Quiet Down” speech, along with full transcription, now free and open on Archive.org. The transphobic fucks can try their best to scrub us from history, but we’re not going anywhere.

[gaylor-moon]

Oh wow a piece of lgbt history..

[strawberrynesquikphilosophies]

L020A Sylvia Rivera, "Y'all Better Quiet Down" Original Authorized Video by LoveTapesCollective, 1973 Gay Pride Rally NYC

(Sylvia speech (1:02-5:14) Controversial speech at June 24,1973 Gay Pride Rally at Washington Square Park NYC . Sylvia Rivera was introduced

since OP link is dead

[goodfriendo]

new link here with transcript

Sylvia Rivera Y'all Better Quiet Down 1978 : Sylvia Rivera : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive

    [Transcript: An audio clip of Sylvia Rivera giving her speech to a crowd, who can be heard at the start before she begins her speech, sa

[anti-terf-posts]

official anti terf post

[isuggestrespecttranspeople]

Y’all Better Quiet Down, for anyone that wants it

[theangelcatalogue]

Making a chain cause why not!? Hdisiwisjs

Put your name/nickname in the Character Headcanon Generator and see what you get!

Link!

Erm...so-

@starsinthenigth @mxnaceo @duckp0t + Anyone who wants to do it! (No pressure)

[avoyuki-avocado]

Not tagged but i do want to try it

Welp...Cole...youre going to jail at age 5 lol, have shame Cole...your dad is a police officer

Tags: @purezneon @hiromi-seika @magical-regical @drowsy-king open tags

[drowsy-king]

ty for the tag<3

That's....true sadly

Curiously, I wanted to do Leona

And I so see him watch that when he is bored out of his mind lol

@bladevoyager @gh0stfl0wer25 @plateapus @inkudraws + free tags

[bladevoyager]

what?! no! I'm one of them D: NOOOOO

open tags

[bardorsomethinglikethat]

I got these back to back. So. Uh. Yea. (;ﾟ∇ﾟ)

@patroclus-is-the-bigger-person @hyll18 @cabinthreeproblems @casualshapeshifter @theaterkidest2009 @fandom-hopper-official @yourlocalfandomcollector @epichermesholymoly @nicothehalfblood

[hermes-reblogs]

@river-rat728, @rocky-core, @mini-birdy-offical, @p0pr0x1an, @tadctonorway, @deemondude, @booknerd2712, @loch-nes-dragon, @cheekychihuahuaart, @b-does-arts, @hawkeyedoodles, @chaos-triangle, @chaoticlesbianhere, @lifeserieswatcher, @survalio, @thetypogoddess, @sugarspice-x, @thebumblebeealchemist, @br1ght-1s-d34d-2ndaccount, @txlxmachus, @thefoolingreen, @obsessive4books, @funnybunny4everhehe, @jaxtadcismydaughter13, @causalshapeshifter, @astralfmboi, @volume-down, @zealandthesleepdeprivedbtch, + open tags :)

[chaos-triangle]

Open tags!

Mine was "Starry needs a good cry"!

[martinkartin200]

I thought this was gonna be silly

@clown3ry010226 @robiindraws @moriartea221 @rubyheartcrowspring @max15mae @inhonoredglory + open tags

[max15mae]

Firstly, yes its called autism, secondly yeah but only by myself

open tags☆

[melz-367]

can't resist I'm too interested-

well shit. I guess I've been found by the fbi. Took them long enough

just gonna throw a few of y'all in here I'm too hot to think of everyone- @whispersinthetide @aroaceinaspace @tay-1019 @fel1ra @crushed-jewels <33

[whispersinthetide]

That second one is shockingly accurate lol

Npt: @coffee--spill @floatinginthevoidsomewhere @obsessive-procrastinator @murderingforafriend + open tags 😁

[floatinginthevoidsomewhere]

i am? ok then-

no what

tags: @murderous-goose @cloudsdescending + open tags :3

[murderous-goose]

how the fuck did they know

@ham-sandwich-consumer-offical @sirsamueloflydia @holymolyitssam @murderingforafriend @pansexual-frog-offical @genderfluid-offical and the moots who i forgot + open tags :D

[holymolyitssam]

I am !!!! how did they know ???

@stagefrightbaxter @incognitostunner @man-offical and open tagssssss

[man-offical]

yes.

heck, frick, and butthole fart. ok? that Is all I Know. ok?

open tags. ok?

[nothinthebible]

Thats just true

@wolfythewitch @albino-wildebeest @laswells-ashtray

[laswells-ashtray]

i actually do. huff tush and doesy downs.

@romanroysbf @conner-kents-leather-jacket

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

this is true! i am :) @graduallywatermellon

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Surprisingly, none of his kids knew. Neither did most of Gotham.

Maybe it was the fact that all Bruce had asked for, for his 8th birthday, was a haircut. Maybe it was the fact that all the news headlines the week his parents died only described him as the "Wayne Child". Maybe it was because he had refused to appear back in the public eye until he returned to Gotham at 19, a (barely) fully-grown ditz of a man.

Bruce will never know if his parents would have allowed it. He remembered quietly noticing the apprehensive side eye his parents gave eachother when they asked for that haircut. He remembers Alfred quietly bursting into tears and dragging him into a hug when he told him at age 10. Bruce doesn't think the tears were because Alfred was sad he wanted this. Bruce was afraid that the tears were because Alfred knew Thomas and Martha would have never allowed it.

Bruce didn't remember much about being a child. Any sun-soaked sepia memory had been stolen away by the blurry mist of trauma-induced memory loss, but he does remember Thomas once told Bruce that he wanted a son. That he would have called him 'Bruce', had he been a boy. He remembers being confused about why he couldn't be 'Bruce' now.

Bruce never properly knew his parents, but that doesn't stop him from missing them with all his heart. He doesn't know if they would have accepted him.

He hopes they would have. That they would be proud of the man he had grown into. The things he had done. The children that he cares so dearly for.

He knows they probably wouldn't.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

ALSO reblogging this. Happy pride month x2!!!!

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Strangely enough, it started when Robin was taken away.

Sitting in his apartment, all too aware that there was no traffic-light costume to slip into when he needed an outlet, Dick was forced to think.

Looking in the full-length mirror that acted as his wardrobe door, Dick knew that, on a surface level, he was an extremely attractive man. And yet, there were parts about himself that he found... lacking.

Not in a self-loathing way, no, he knew that people would kill to look like him and he was proud of it. It was more of a passing notice. A passing notice that bothered him slightly.

4 years, and one new Kryptonian-themed vigilante identity later, he still hadn't quite put his finger on it. So, Dick Grayson, known for his uncanny Bat-Trained ability to put all his feelings in a box and never look at them, did exactly that.

Moving in with Kori made things... more prevalent, shall we say.

Kori was entirely unashamed about her body. She often saw human clothes as prude-ish, and would instantly gravitate to the most revealing outfits in any store upon stepping foot inside. Looking at her filled Dick with so many different emotions - love, happiness, an insane and insatiable lust, and, strangest of all... jealousy.

More than once, even before moving in with her, Dick had found himself looking over at his girlfriend in her too-high crop tops, her superhero bodysuit, the sleep shorts she would wear around their apartment, and he would be filled with a sense of burning jealousy.

Her curves, her hair, the way the clothing hugged her skin and the way the fabric draped off of her... it was all incredibly hot and yet incredibly frustrating.

So, entirely on a whim, when Kori was off being Starfire somewhere in the galaxy, he went through her closet. It was technically their closet, but they had split the closet right down the middle. Kori's clothes on the left, Dick's on the right. Dick justified it purely as payback for whenever Kori would steal his sleepshirts - and only his sleepshirts. He purposefully wore pyjamas 2 sizes too big because he felt it was comfy and Kori was a good half-foot taller than him.

Picking out probably the most modest piece of clothing in her wardrobe - a light blue blouse that she often left half-unbuttoned whenever she wore it - he quietly slipped it on. He didn't want to make too much noise while doing this, as if Kori would somehow hear him from two solar systems away.

Facing the mirror, he found himself.... disappointed.

The blouse hung off of him in an unflattering manner, the place where the wearer's breasts are meant to sit sagging low on his chest. He looked weird in it, and it caused him no small amount of panic.

He had the blouse off, back on the hanger, and back in the wardrobe in record time. He swore he'd never do it again, feeling slightly shameful at how stupid it was to think he could dress like that.

... It didn't stop him trying again 3 weeks later. Or another 2 after that.

In fact, he kept doing it sporadically up until his 21st birthday. It was late, his family and friends having come over during various points of the day to drop off gifts, well wishes, and dizzying amounts of alcohol.

He had already planned on a quiet night in with Kori, as it was a Tuesday and his friends had agreed it was better to wait till Friday night to hit the bars to celebrate. However, he hadn't planned on Kori telling him to wait on the bed before returning with a large, strangely light, cardboard box.

Part of him really hoped it was some kind of birthday surprise Kori had arranged, which is why it slightly surprised him when he opened the box to find... clothes.

Lots and lots of women's clothes.

Instantly, he could tell by looking at them that they were way too small for Kori. The chests, while not noticeable at all unless examining closely, had been taken in. There were brassieres, underwear, socks, skirts, shirts, dresses, and all other manner of things that, frankly, made Dick's head spin.

It was a while of him just going through the box silently, with Kori sat next to him, before he was able to look over at her and question what, exactly, all this was for.

She told him she knew he'd been going through her clothes, and his blood ran cold.

Before he could stutter out an explanation, most likely some sort of apology, she had grabbed a shirt out of the pile and was holding it against him.

It was a Nightwing-blue tank top, with a small lace trim decorating the top and the hem. She told him there was a black pencil skirt in the pile that she was sure would go great with it, and asked him to put it on for her.

He was waiting for her mood to turn sour, or for her to suddenly start laughing in his face and declare all this a prank, but she just kept looking at him, earnestly at first, but then with a small amount of worry.

She questioned whether or not he wanted the clothes, that she could take it all back or donate it if she'd misinterpreted something, and something inside of Dick snarled at having these taken from him. He wanted them, and he wanted them so badly.

Sometimes Dick forgot how well Kori knew him. There would be small moments where she would demonstrate that she could practically read his mind, and yet he was shocked about it every damn time. And, every time she did something to this effect, his heart would take no small pleasure in reminding him of how much he truly loved this woman.

Kori was right. The black skirt did go well with the tank top.

It matched even better with the silver engagement rings they both wore 2 months later.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Shoving this in everyone's faces again. Happy pride month!

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Kon gets like this, every now and then. A gnawing emptiness that calls for him to destroy every good thing he has left in his life because he knows he doesn't deserve it, on a level that late-night group calls filled with laughter and small gifts offered to him every now and then don't touch.

Kon loves his friends and family more than anything. A few years ago, he would have done anything to receive the small and frequent kind gestures selflessly given to him by the ones he holds dearest to his heart. But, more-than-lately, there's been a black tar pit slowly gaping in his very soul.

A void that whispers that he doesn't deserve their kindness, that he should quit while he's ahead and abandon them all before they end up hurting him. Yes, it's good now, but good for how long?

He's too used to everything good in his life being taken away from him. He's too used to it being his own fault.

Kon, unfortunately, finds himself to be too much of a coward to follow through on these impulses. He finds himself too desperate for the interaction, for the short high he gets when his friends casually show their love that he feels he's an infinitely bad person for questioning, before his own brain turns on him and reminds him of what a greedy, ungrateful pest he is.

He's at an impasse. A state of inertia. He hates himself for staying, for putting the burden that is his existence onto other people, but he finds himself too selfish to walk away.

He doesn't think he's something that can be fixed.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Kon gets like this, every now and then. A gnawing emptiness that calls for him to destroy every good thing he has left in his life because he knows he doesn't deserve it, on a level that late-night group calls filled with laughter and small gifts offered to him every now and then don't touch.

Kon loves his friends and family more than anything. A few years ago, he would have done anything to receive the small and frequent kind gestures selflessly given to him by the ones he holds dearest to his heart. But, more-than-lately, there's been a black tar pit slowly gaping in his very soul.

A void that whispers that he doesn't deserve their kindness, that he should quit while he's ahead and abandon them all before they end up hurting him. Yes, it's good now, but good for how long?

He's too used to everything good in his life being taken away from him. He's too used to it being his own fault.

Kon, unfortunately, finds himself to be too much of a coward to follow through on these impulses. He finds himself too desperate for the interaction, for the short high he gets when his friends casually show their love that he feels he's an infinitely bad person for questioning, before his own brain turns on him and reminds him of what a greedy, ungrateful pest he is.

He's at an impasse. A state of inertia. He hates himself for staying, for putting the burden that is his existence onto other people, but he finds himself too selfish to walk away.

He doesn't think he's something that can be fixed.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

I am.... so bored in class. I'm so tempted to work on some of my drafts, but I don't want to risk any of my classmates reading it over my shoulder. I would die of embarrassment.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Happy Birthday to me! 🎉

Being a brand new 20-year-old, my personal resolution for this year is to try and clean out my drafts. So hopefully you'll see some more stuff from me very soon! ❤️

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Okay. Theoretically, Kon knows how to write.

It was a small part of the libraries of information LuthorCorp had installed into his head during his gestation, nestled in-between 'every pasta shape ever made' and 'how to fight an ostrich'. The problem was... he'd never actually done it. Physically. With a paper and a pen.

And now Rob was expecting him to take minutes for his complicated Bat Ramblings.

Kon had been sitting on The Nest's couch for about five minutes now, and he still hadn't put pen to paper. He was sure he'd be struggling to keep up even if he was able to write. Robin was pacing back and forth, rambling a mile a minute, and had somehow switched from blood splatter patterns to the locations of the Victim's tattoos in less than two sentences. Seamlessly.

And Kon had written nothing down.

Shit. Maybe he just needed to bite the bullet and just... try.

Hovering the pen above the paper, Kon searched through his memory to try and find anything pertaining to actually writing. Letter strokes, how to actually hold the pen, anything that might seem helpful.

.... Bupkis.

Okay. Maybe it was more of a muscle memory thing. Like riding a bike. (Ignoring the fact he couldn't do that, either.)

He pushed the pen against the page, and dragged the pen until it formed a straight line spanning about a quarter of the paper, hoping some kind of instinct would take over. And still, nothing.

Fuck.

"Kon?" Shit, how long had Rob been trying to get his attention for?

"Yeah? What's up, Boy Wonder?" He answered, trying his absolute hardest to seem as casual as possible.

Robin stared at him for a second. Kon was 100% sure that Rob was giving him one of those calculating, analytical looks from behind the white lenses of his domino mask.

"Have you been listening? I haven't seen you write anything down." Shit. "Is there something wrong?"

Kon knows it's pretty much pointless to lie to any of the Bats. Especially to their face. But, if it has even a slight chance of saving him from the embarassment of Robin finding out he can't read, he'd take that gamble.

"Nah, my brain's just kind of fried right now, dude. I think I'm overdue for a sun-exposed power nap."

Robin watches him, for a second, and, before Kon can even react - even with his advanced speed - Robin's hand shoots out and grabs the notebook Kon had been (trying to) write in.

"Wha-- Hey!" Shit. He knew it was a long shot.

Robin's silent for a few moments more as he takes in the complete lack of anything on the page, aside from the single line Kon had put down to try and jump-start his own brain.

".... Hm." Jesus, sometimes Robin acted far too much like Batman for them not to be related in some way.

Kon had commited to this bit now. And he'd be damned if he wasn't going to see it through. "'Hm', what? I told you my brain isn't firing on all cylinders right now."

"Did Lex ever teach you how to write?"

Fuck. Shit, fuck, and other expletives.

Honestly, Kon is kind of angry at the fact that Rob hit the nail on the head. Like he could just peel back Kon's carefully crafted layers and just take a look directly into his brain.

... He's been silent for too long.

"You should have told me," Robin says, completely nonchalant, like he's not just been told one of his best friends can't write. Kon's sure the expression on his face has to be comical. "The school year's just started again for me, so I won't be able to do much. But, I can probably rope Batman or Nightwing into helping you out."

Kon's pretty sure he visibly bluescreens.

"Helping me out?" He questions as soon has he has enough of his faculties back to do so. "Helping me out how?"

This time, it's Rob's turn to look at him like he's started speaking Spanish. "... By teaching you to write, Kon." Robin speaks slowly and deliberately, like him pulling strings to help Kon is a given.

This time, Kon is completely sure he visibly bluescreens.

It takes a second for him to process, but when he's finally able to string together a sentence again, the first thing out of his mouth is,

"The fucking Batman is going to teach me how to write?"

"Or Nightwing," Robin shrugs. "Honestly, it's down to your personal preference. They'll both make time if I ask them nicely."

"You-- ... you don't have to do that. I've gotten this far without knowing how to do it." Kon feels a familiar sense of shame creeping up on him. It's the same sense of shame he feels whenever something comes around and acutely reminds him he isn't like everyone else. He wasn't born, he was made. And his 'creator' forgot to teach him how to write.

Robin takes a seat next to him on the couch. He places the notepad on the coffee table, and Kon can very clearly see the single line he'd written down. He stares at that instead of looking at Robin.

"You know there's nothing to be ashamed of, right?" Rob's voice is quieter now, gentler, and Kon hates it.

"You don't have to treat me like a little kid. I don't need Nightwing to babysit me while i learn my ABCs."

"Kon," Rob puts his hand on Kon's shoulder and Kon still can't bring himself to look at him. "I'm not pitying you. I'm not judging you. I want to help you. All of those things can be true, dude."

Kon takes a chance and glances at him out the corner of his eye. Rob's wearing one of those tender smiles he reserves for the team, Kon most of all. "Shut up and take the assist, man."

Kon finds himself laughing, at that.

"I'll talk to B," Rob continues. "He'll come up with a lesson plan for you. Probably some homework, too, if I ask nicely."

Kon lets out a theatrical groan. "If you get the Batman to give me homework, I might actually have to kill you."

"You like me too much." Rob says, unbelievably smug.

"Unfortunately, I do."

Despite the fact Kon is sure that classroom time with the most intimidating member of the Justice League is somewhere in his near future, he finds himself smiling at the guy who's putting him in that situation in the first place.

Because he does love Robin. More than he can ever let him know.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Genji would openly admit he had been keeping an eye on Wuyang. The boy reminded him far too much of himself when he was that age, and as such he knew that his first mission had the potential to hit Wuyang hard.

Sitting next to him on the way back, Genji hated being right. The boy hadn't moved much the whole ride, let alone joined in on conversation.

They were only another 20 minutes out from the new Watchpoint, and Genji knew that if he didn't do something, the likelihood of Wuyang doing something he might regret was high.

Wordlessly, keeping his eyes on Cassidy and Hana's conversation, he takes out his phone, opens Tetris, and holds it out to Wuyang.

He can tell Wuyang doesn't notice it for a few seconds, still stuck in his own head, before the subtle music of the app grabs his attention.

Genji turns to him, only for a second, and murmurs out, "It helps with processing."

When the other still doesn't move to take it, Genji gently shakes the phone and gives Wuyang his best admonishing look. He's pretty sure the other can feel the weight of his gaze - even through the mask - because he does end up taking the phone after a few more seconds of hesitation.

For the rest of the short remainder of the ride, he keeps most of his concentration on the larger conversation, but takes a second every few minutes to surreptiously glance over to the younger boy. Just to check up on him.

Genji doesn't say anything when Wuyang hands his phone back as they pull up to the Watchpoint. He also doesn't say anything when he overhears the same subtle music coming from Wuyang's phone a few days later.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Lena really tried to be subtle with checking up on Anran after their first field mission. Unfortunately, Lena isn't known for being a very subtle woman.

"So!" She starts, "How are you feeling?"

Anran, running through the same conditioning set she's been working on for the past 15 minutes, doesn't even pause to reply. "It went fine, Ma'am."

Lena really tries her best not to cringe at that. She thinks she fails. "Ah, there's really no need for all that 'Ma'am' business! Just 'Lena', is fine."

"Oh." Lena swears she can see a bit of colour bloom across Anran's face. "Of course, Lena."

There's silence, then, for a minute or two.

.... Awkward....

"So, um..." Subtle, keep it subtle. "Did you run into any problems..? During the mission?"

Anran pauses, just for a second, before falling back into the conditioning set.

"It's probably a stupid question." Her tone is steady, but Lena can tell she's anxious about asking. "I was just wondering... how everyone sleeps." Her gaze is fully focused on the wall ahead of her. "Afterwards, I mean."

Yeah. Lena had sort of anticipated a question like that when she decided to check up on Anran, but that doesn't mean she has an answer.

"... I think Vivian was talking about sorting through some Administrator paperwork regarding establishing a new Watchpoint, and she always likes to work in the kitchen when doing stuff like that. I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you joined her."

Anran nods, just once. "As long as it's okay with her."

Lena heads to the kitchen that night, under the guise of making herself a cup of tea, and something loosens in her chest when she finds Sojourn, Anran and Juno at the table.

She flicks on the kettle and pulls four mugs down from the cupboard.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Just letting my DC followers know this blog is now a multifandom blog! I've gotten inspiration to write for a few different fandoms lately, so you'll be seeing a bit of that here too :]

I'm not abandoning DC! I promise!! Writing for other fandoms might actually motivate me to write for DC more!

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

! CW: Light mentions of vomiting! Be careful when reading! !

The only reason Bruce hasn't gone to Leslie to check it out is because it's so wildly inconsistent and he forgets to be worried about it until it hits him again.

It sneaks up on him, catches him unaware in the cave, in his room, in his office at Wayne Ent., it's even surprised him in the middle of interviews or press appearances before. He's never really spoken about it to anyone, simply because it's been happening as long as he can remember and, hey, it's not killed him so far. All the X-Rays and MRIs and CAT Scans Leslie and Alfred put him through on a regular basis clearly show there's no weird growths or brain deformations that could cause this, so he doesn't worry about it.

It's simply unpleasant. It's not like Bruce doesn't deal with unpleasant feelings on a daily basis, but this definitely ranks in the upper half of any unpleasant feeling he has experienced in the past.

This specific feeling of unpleasant is a sharp, sudden feeling of wrong that jabs him in the upper stomach every so often, usually over the course of a few hours at a time. It doesn't seem to do anything more than make him feel a little ill whenever it happens, though there was that time it lasted for more than 36 hours and caused him to vomit so much Alfred had almost dragged him to Leslie's to have his stomach pumped, fearing he had been poisoned.

So. It wasn't entirely unintrusive on Bruce's life, but thankfully the whole vomiting copiously thing hadn't happened since, so he didn't worry about it.

Bruce did have his own suspicions for why his body decided to attack itself seemingly by random. It hadn't escaped his notice that it only ever seemed to happen whilst he was waiting for something. Normally, for the other shoe to drop.

It happens during cases where all he can do is wait for the offender to strike again. It happens when his kids don't check in on time on patrol, and he just knows they're up to no good. Or sitting in a warehouse with a ticking bomb, waiting for him to save them. Hell, it even happens when Clark or Diana send him a text message with just the words, "Can we talk?"

No matter how hard he compartmentalises his emotions, memories, his knee-jerk responses, he can't seem to simply pack up this reaction like he can with everything else. It just keeps happening.

So, instead, he copes. He practices breathing exercises in the medbay after Hal takes a heavy hit in a fight and the ring doesn't have enough charge to heal him yet. He slips himself a few anti-nausea pills lying in wait outside Mr Freeze's latest assault on STAR Labs, knowing the scientists inside could die if he rushes this. He makes sure to vomit quietly in his Watchtower bedroom's attached bathroom after Diana and Clark cornered him (again) about his growing callousness towards the team.

This is just... something that happens to him. And he has it completely, 100% handled. Because he's Batman.

[conner-kents-leather-jacket]

Hey! Reposting this because this was originally a projection post, and I didn't know what these were. Just learned that these kinds of episodes are apparently Anxiety Attacks! Which I didn't know. So I'm sharing in case you experience something similar and didn't know either. ❤️