#lance family

[autisticlancemcclain]

parts 1 2

———

For most of Luis’s life, he’s known walking through the faded purple front door of the house he’s grown up in means he will be assaulted by noise. For so many years, he would even hear the sounds of yelling and banging and general chaos before he even made it up the steps. Several siblings tended to to that, he supposes. His key in the lock meant prepare for a whirlwind of motion and sound, for rapid Spanish and crashing sounds of clumsy people walking into each other and the calamity of home.

He tenses, even now, walking through that front door, reflexively preparing for an onslaught of noise that doesn’t come. Even though he struggled to get the key through the lock with one hand, the other holding a tired Lance, he prepared without realising what he was doing, only to become violently aware of the silence as he kicks the door shut behind him.

He freezes, right there in front of the door, keys and diaper bag clutched in one hand, Lancito gently cradled in the other, head resting on Luis’ shoulder and thumb stuck in his mouth.

It has been months, since his parents…since his parents. A new year has passed. A quiet, silent Christmas, locked in their own rooms. He has walked in with a child in his arms, after stopping at the campus daycare for the first time this semester, no different than what he’s been doing for the entirety of last semester. There is no reason for him to have walked into his home and forgotten, however briefly, how empty and quiet their home has become. (It feels, vaguely, like one of the first crisp days of autumn, stepping out of your house in the early morning and smelling the almost-frosty air, and blinking away the sudden memory of October when you were eight. Like the sudden snap out of your past, the trippy feeling of walking up in the present without realizing how far your nostalgia had driven you out of it. Startling and aching, really, the direct comparison).

Lance makes a whiny noise in the back of his throat, startling Luis into action. He starts to bounce the toddler, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he slips off his shoes and sets the diaper bag by the door.

“I know, I know, baby. Let’s go sit down for a bit.”

Lance is very…clingy.

All of them are, in some way. Rachel has just turned fifteen years old, but Luis wakes up to find her curled up at the foot of his bed more than twice a week, driven out of her room by something she refuses to voice. Marco spends every lunch period situated in the school office, hogging the phone to methodically call the rest of them to make sure they’re alive. Veronica cleans, obsessively, sorting through everyone’s things and scrubbing everything she can get her hands on like she can leave her imprint on them for when she’s not there.

“Yes, yes, I hear you.” Lance whines louder when Luis sets him down on the couch, babbling something nonsensical but stern enough on Luis’s direction that he cracks a smile. “Yeesh, do we need that tone? I’m just putting a movie on.”

He nonetheless tries to hurry things up, lest Lance get too antsy and start to cry. Once Finding Nemo starts playing — and Jesus fuck everyone in the household hates that movie so fucking bad, at this point, but it is the only fucking movie that Lance will watch and that keeps him calm — he scoops the toddler back up, collapsing back on the couch and tucking him under his arm. Lance snuggles into him easily, little elbows digging into Luis’ skin as he settles himself, and let’s put a huge, long sigh once he stills.

Luis snorts. “Stressful day at work, pal?”

“Shhhh,” Lance hushes, flailing a hand at Luis’ face area, presumably aiming for his mouth. “Nene. Sh.”

Worryingly, even at fourteen months old, Lance hasn’t really begun to talk. They’ve yet to hear him form any actual words, let alone a real sentence, in either of the languages used around him. But he has several vocalizations for things he wants — nana for food, nene for Nemo, and regular old toddler ‘no’. Lots of ‘n’ sounds. They’re saving up to take him to a specialist, but for now they just try to encourage any sounds he makes that are word-like.

“Okay,” Luis mumbles, kissing Lance’s palm. He hums, distractedly patting Luis’ cheek, eyes trained on the blue of the TV as if it’s the first time he’s seen the movie instead of the three billionth. “I’ll be quiet for Nemo.”

He lets his eyes unfocus on the screen in front of him, mind wandering, slow and lethargic. He can hear the ticking of the clock from the kitchen, almost echoing in how loud it is. It makes him tired, slow; the only time he used to hear it as a kid was on late summer nights, up late, falling asleep on the kitchen table as his mother hummed in the kitchen, making fried plantains with the fruit she’d gotten in the morning market. Lance’s weight is heavy on his side, tired and burnt out as he is, and the ebb and flow of the movie is numbingly familiar, and clock ticks steady. Tick, tick, tick.

Tick.

Tick.

Tick.

———

“Luis.” He whines, low and rumbly as something pokes his shoulder. “Luis, dorkbrain, get up.”

He groans, louder this time, cracking open one bleary eye. His eyes burn, contacts dried out, but he can make out the blurry outline of his sister, mouth twisted in a half-smile, grease smeared across her nose.

“Get up, doofus. You left the baby unsupervised.”

The words take a moment to register, but he shoots up in panic when they do. He looks frantically around the room, sighing in relief when he finds Lance sitting quietly in the corner, playing with his toy planes. He’s making tiny little crash noises every time he crashes then into each other, walking one of Rachel’s old Polly Pockets across the scene and giggling to himself.

“Jesus H. Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his face as the panic starts to seep from his heart. “You fuckin’ scared me, Ronnie.”

She smirks. “And I’ll be doing it again.”

Luis decides not to tell her about the face grease. He was going to, but now she can suffer for being a dickhead. Maybe she’ll even break out.

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”

He glances over at Lance again, just to double-check, but he’s still playing happily by himself, so he gets to his feet.

“C’mon,” he says, inclining his head towards the kitchen. “Kids’ll be home soon. Let’s make dinner.”

“Dibs on not doing cooking!” Veronica’s hand flies to her nose, cackling at Luis’ indignance.”

“Hey! Dinner is a shared endeavour! You can’t just dibs on not doing it!”

“Can too, loser! C’mere, Lancey-baby.” She scoops him up, planes and Pollys and all, and lugs him too the kitchen.

“Using the baby to avoid arguments is illegal.”

“Eat my farts, lunch boy.”

“That’s a stupid insult,” Luis mutters to himself, glaring at his sister one last time before turning to the fridge. She ignores him gleefully, picking up a plane and gently crashing it against the one Lance is holding. Instead of any amusement, he looks at her in such comical offense, gobsmacked that his sister would have the audacity to smack around his planes, that the young mechanic’s apprentice bursts out laughing. She hunches over, wheezing, as Lance scolds her in baby-talk.

Rolling his eyes fondly, he turns back to the fridge, finally opening the door and glancing inside.

If his life was a cartoon, there would be tumbleweeds rolling through the white, cooled shelves. That’s how fuckin’ bare it is.

“Well that’s…not good,” Veronica says when Luis fails to say anything.

Luis swallows roughly. “We forgot to budget for fucking groceries this month.”

Veronica hangs her head. “Fuck.” Even little Lance goes quiet, look between them in concern, bottom lip stuck out and trembling. Veronica reaches out a hand and brushes through his hair to comfort him, which kind of works. He abandons his toys to curl into her, thumb back in his mouth.

Luis opens and closes the fridge three separate times, hoping food will magically appear. When that doesn’t work, he wonders if he can make soup out of ketchup, or something. Add onion skin for flavours.

“We’re not cut out for this, Ron.”

She laughs sharply. “Yeah, no shit.”

She opens her mouth again, and from the look in her face Luis knows she’s about to say something dumb, so he beats her to the punch.

“I’m quitting school,” he blurts.

She blinks in shock. A second later her eyes narrow, and her face goes steely. “Like fucking hell you are.”

Luis sighs. He turns, slightly, reaching over and grabbing Lance from her arms. He bounces him gently, leaning in and blowing raspberries onto his cheek so he doesn’t have to look at Vero.

“My tuition eats up half of our funds,” he says quietly. “And the library job barely puts a dent in it. I can’t…if I don’t have as many hours in school, I can get a job that’ll get me money fast, and I can —”

Before he can finish, and before Veronica can argue, the sound of the lock turning in the front door interrupts them both. There’s no giggling, no banter, no even squabbling as Rachel and Marco walk through the door.

There hasn’t been.

Luis would trade anything to have it back.

“Hi,” Marco says slowly, reading the tension in the room. “Everything…okay?”

Luis smiles tightly. “Fine, buddy. We were just talking.”

Marco’s expression flattens. “I’m not stupid, Luis.”

“I know.” A beat. “It’s just nothing for you to stress about.”

Marco says nothing for a moment, staring at Luis flatly, before he tosses his backpack agains the wall and squares his shoulders.

“We are four and six years younger then you,” he starts. Rachel nods resolutely beside him. “We’ve been — obviously we’re not doing super stellar. I know the fridge is empty. And that you cried over the mortgage last night. And we heard you arguing from outside.”

Luis and Veronica look at each other guiltily.

Rachel stares at them, eyes flat and annoyed, fingers pinching the bridge of her noise. She hasn’t spoken in months, but Luis has learnt to read her unspoken — that’s a bitch, please if he’s ever heard one.

“Stop apologizing for stupid shit,” Marco says for her. “We’re not trying to make you feel guilty. We’re trying to say that we can help.”

“Not your job,” Veronica says immediately. “Your job is graduate highschool and develop your brain.”

“Not a single person here is done developing!” Marco explodes. “All of us are still fucking growing! We lost our fucking parents, all of us, and instead of letting us be a part of the solution you’re blocking us out and treating us like babies!”

“Wanting you to be safe is not babying you,” Luis says shortly.

“Oh, did you read that in one of your parenting books?”

Yes, actually. He did. But he’s annoyed that Marco knows about those, so he pretends he didn’t hear like the mature grownup he is.

“Piss off,” he says, like an adult.

“Yeah,” Veronica agrees. “We’re the adults, and we say cool it with the crazy talk.”

Marco glares harshly at them. Rachel joins him. Lance makes a short, cut-off whine, turning to shove his face in Luis’ neck. His hands come up to pat his back reflexively.

“I quit violin lessons,” Marco says eventually.

Luis’ jaw drops. Veronica joins his indignation.

“What?!” she shouts.

Luis feels like something is wrapped around his throat, choking him. His heartbeat pounds in his ears. The desperate hope he’s been clinging too, the goals to get Marco and Rachel and Vero everywhere they want to go in life, come crashing to the ground around him.

“Julliard,” he says weakly. He can’t force his voice to say anything further.

Marco juts put his chin. “They were two hundred dollars per session. I talked to my tutor. She said…” he trails off slightly, voice getting gravelly, but gathers himself again when Rachel grabs his arm and squeezes. “She wrote a reference letter for me,” he continues softly. “Even though I’m only a junior. And she’s apparently been talking to the admission staff since I first started taking lessons with her. As long as I keep practicing every day, she says I have nothing to worry about. But I’ll have time for a part time job, now. On weekends at least.” He locks eyes with Luis. “Don’t fucking quit school, stupid.“

Luis holds his gaze for several minutes. He wants to contest it all. He wants Marco to take his lessons every day and come back exhilarated, like he always used to. He wants Veronica to focus on building projects in the garage in her free time, instead of picking up hours to blow through her apprenticeship as quickly as possible. He wants to hear Rachel’s voice again. He wants Lance to stop flinching every time things get even playfully tense.

But there are things he can get, and things he cannot.

“Okay,” he says softly. “Okay.”

Plans will have to change. He graduates in a few months, so long as his final courses go well. The original plan was med school, but that’s obviously no longer an option. Not with everything.

But if Marco can adapt, so can he.

“We’ll work things out,” he says, trying to channel his father’s voice. It must work, somehow, because Veronica smiles in that bitter way of hers, that she does when she remembers.

“Of course we can.”

[jbuffyangel]

Second Chance: Arrow 1x18 Review (Salvation)

The villain of the week is one step ahead of Felicity in "Salvation" which gives Oliver the opportunity to be there for HER, as they race to save Roy Harper's life.

And oh holy cow is there Lance family drama y'all. WOW. Scandalous.

Let's dig in...

Olicity

This is one of Arrow’s more suspenseful episodes. Felicity goes toe to toe with the villain of the week and she more than meets her match. This results in one of Arrow's cooler action sequences and some iconic Olictiy moments.

But first, we must work out.

Of all the times Felicity watches Oliver working out, this is my favorite. Emily Bett Richard’s face is hilarious.

Her comic skills are so on point and she brings a much needed levity to the show. But do not deny this woman her dramatic work. She can bring her A game anytime - as we will soon see.

Oliver is off to threaten (or kill?) a dirty real estate developer named John Nichols, who doesn’t mind skipping code requirements if it means saving a buck. Oliver fed up with this guy killing people in the Glades and he’s on the List, so hasta la vista, baby. (Do not deny my my nineties cliché remarks. They bring me comfort and joy.)

Unfortunately (or fortunately?) someone else beats Oliver to it and kidnaps Nichols. Oliver is strangely displeased. I mean... what's the difference? Felicity and I share a brain sometimes, so she asks Oliver on my behalf.

Source: @andjustforthismoment

These two are in their own rom com and we’re just along for the ride. The way he growls “They don’t show my level of restraint,” at Felicity is a lot. Is it really necessary to stand that close to her Oliver? No it’s not. I SEE YOU SIR.

The man who kidnapped Nichols executes him on live television which was super creepy. He definitely has a Heath Ledger as the Joker vibe to him. (Nobody said the comparisons to the Dark Knight are unfair.)

Felicity is unable to crack his encryption code because he’s a former cyber crusader called “The Savior” and the NSA has been searching for him for years.  His real name is Joseph Falk and he erased his existence after his wife was murdered in the Glades.

When he failed to get justice for his wife's death, the Savior took matters into his own hands - not unlike our favorite vigilante. His cyber skills are no joke and give Felicity a real run for her money. She is unable to track him down before he kills Nichols, which leads to a hilarious if frustrated exchange between Felicity and Oliver.

Source: @yet-i-remain-quiet

JUST GET MARRIED.

Things go from bad to worse for Felicity when Falk kidnaps the district attorney. His crime was not prosecuting the person who murdered Falk’s wife. If we were on the fence as to whether Nichols should live or die, then the district attorney snaps us out of the moral grey zone. Prosecutors choose not try cases all of the time for lack of evidence. It doesn’t mean they should die for it.

Source:  msr-olicity-love

Oliver's impatience only heightens Felicity's stress, but she finally gets a location. It’s the middle of the day which means Oliver can’t hood up. So he grabs the motorcycle and his super sexy brown jacket to hunt Falk down and save the DA.

This leads to one of my favorite Arrow action scenes. Falk is not at the location Felicity sends Oliver to, which means he has to sprint across town and leap between buildings to next location. Felicity is completely flummoxed because she doesn't understand how this guy is moving locations. Oliver screaming at her over comms is not particularly helpful either. 

Unfortunately, Team Arrow loses and Falk murders the DA on live television, which is completely traumatizing to Felicity who has never seen anyone die before. 

Oliver returns home to find Felicity alone in the dark, twirling one of his arrows in her hands. Oliver immediately wants to know where Diggle is because he’s probably wondering why John left Felicity all alone in the dark.

Felicity: I asked him to leave me alone in my loud voice.

Source: @westallenolicitygifs

Oliver isn’t going to do the same. He immediately reassures Felicity that it wasn’t her fault (because it isn’t). This is the price of the life they’ve chosen to live. It’s a very lonely one as Oliver knows all too well.

Source: @jamiedornaniseverything

Felicity is understandably feeling defeatist, so it’s one of the rare times she says it’s better to be alone. Oliver doesn’t have much to say in return, but notice how the scene is shot. The entire bunker is dark except for the brightly backlit desk lamp. Oliver and Felicity are the only thing we see in the darkness.

Felicity also mentions her relationship status, which feels like an oddly placed comment. Umm… ok? SHE’S SINGLE AND HETEROSEXUAL GUYS!

I love receiving pieces to the Felicity Smoak puzzle, but this comment felt very out of context. “Hey I’m sad, but I wouldn’t know how to talk to my boyfriend about fighting crime. Good thing I don’t have one.”

It is NOT the fans who create romantic undertones to Oliver and Felicity’s scenes. The writers make it romantic with conversations like this. It’s very easy to keep a scene like this strictly platonic, but nope! The writers decide it’s super important that Oliver knows *right now* that Felicity is single as she pours her heart out to him in her time of need.

The light is equally important, because this relationship (regardless of romantic or platonic) has to be a two way street. Felicity cannot always help Oliver find the light. He has to help her too.

Oliver does come through Felicity by the end of the episode. Not at first because he is equally struggling with the loneliness of the life he’s chosen. He can’t really advise Felicity against being alone because that’s the choice he’s made for himself. So much so, that Diggle takes him out for a burger and a little therapy session. After the disaster zone his past relationships have left in their wake, Oliver is tapping out. He doesn’t require a life, or entanglements, or feelings.

Diggle: You’ve been home for eight months Oliver, I don’t think you’ve left that island yet.

Diggle, per usual, disagrees. He wants Oliver entangled. He wants Oliver as entangled as he can get. It makes you wonder if he has someone specific in mind.

The Savior puts a big mirror up to Oliver’s face. He is man grieving the loss of his wife and chose to channel that rage and sadness into exacting his brand of justice.  Oliver can see himself in Falk and he doesn’t like what he sees.

Being alone leads to exactly that. While Oliver may say he doesn’t want the complexity of relationships and the difficulties they can bring, the reality of living life alone can lead to some pretty terrible results. Falk cut himself off from his humanity. This lead to selecting victims who didn’t deserve to die. If Oliver wants to maintain a moral high ground, make difficult but ultimately right choices, then he needs his humanity fully intact. Humanity requires human contact.

Oliver reaches out to someone first, but it’s not Felicity. It’s L*urel. He wants to have dinner or coffee or whatever because he no longer wants to be on an island.  It’s a nice line. It would have more meaning if we saw that dinner or conversation, but we don't.

Instead we see Oliver return home to the bunker, to Felicity and Diggle, and they debrief their latest Team Arrow victory.  It would be easy to leave this scene at Felicity’s funny remark about Roy and Thea.

Diggle: You ok?

Oliver: Getting there.

Instead, Oliver acknowledges, more to himself, that he’s feeling better because John was right. Then we actually see this rigid man move and in the cutest way possible - with a little "Psst." It is a small yet definitive step towards his second chance.

Oliver approaches Felicity in the now brightly lit bunker and tells her she is not alone. He is there for her always. Felicity may not have a “boyfriend” to talk to, but she has Oliver.

Then he gently touches her shoulder and lets his hand linger there just long enough to even make Felicity wonder if maybe, just maybe, he means more.

Actions speak louder than words.  Oliver may talk about not being on an island anymore with L*urel, but he leaves that island for Felicity.

Roy Harper

What are we doing with Roy Harper? Thus far it’s been a lot of Roy and Thea having the same “make better choices” argument and debate their wildly different economic lots in life. This is all well and good but we eventually need movement on this character and “Unfinished Business” give it to us BIG TIME.

Thea is understandably frustrated when Roy admits he plans to hold up a liquor store because he “owes” people in the Glades and that’s how this town works.

Thea: I got you a job at my brother’s club. You have choices. You don’t have to be a criminal.

Somehow this decision puts Roy in the Savior’s cross hairs. According to Falk, Roy Harper is a gang banger.

Roy has a criminal record and holding up a liquor store with an empty gun is not great, but a freaking death sentence? Calm down crazy. The Savior can’t find bigger fish to fry?

Roy doesn’t make excuses or ask for forgiveness when Falk challenges him to defend himself against his “crimes.” He doesn’t care if he lives or dies (just like someone else we know).

Roy: No one’s gonna miss me. I’m just a waste.

Gut punch. This kid wrecks me. Now Thea is crying in Tommy’s big brotherly-like arms. WE MUST SAVE THE PARKOUR PRINCE!!!

Felicity and Diggle determine Falk is on the old abandoned subway system in Star City, which is why he was moving locations. The Hood finds Roy before Falk can pull the trigger and they engage in a morality debate, which thankfully isn’t broadcasted across the whole city after the feed is cut off. Or maybe the city should have heard Oliver’s arguments.

Oliver: I understand being alone, but it doesn’t give you the right to kill people in cold blood.

The Savior challenges Oliver on the difference between them and, once again, he doesn’t have a lot to say. There's minimal morality wiggle room for Oliver. The only difference between the Savior and the Hood is the people they are choosing. Oliver wasn’t wrong at the beginning of the episode. He has more restraint. He also has a better list of names. The Savior should ask for a couple.

Killing the District Attorney and kidnapping Roy Harper show that Falk is very bad at being judge, jury and executioner. Arrow is putting other vigilantes up against Oliver to show that he is better. There is a good heart under that hood – a potential superhero’s heart. Oliver’s morals and how he measures the sins of others are more just, but that doesn’t make him right. These distinctions we are drawing between Oliver and people like Falk and Helena are merely shades of grey. He is balancing on a very razor thin edge.

Oliver begs Falk to give Roy a second chance, but is forced to put an arrow in him when he refuses. “Salvation” is asking an important question. Who is worthy of a second chance? And who decides who is worthy?

Killing not only ends someone’s life it removes the possibility for change. There is a clear distinction between a man like Nichols and Roy Harper. There should be consequences to sinful actions, but what sins warrant death and what sins warrant forgiveness? Who decides? It’s a question we grapple with constantly in our imperfect legal system and it’s one Oliver Queen must answer as the city’s self appointed protector.

Roy is an easy call to make. He made mistakes, but he is deserving of a second chance. However, the question of whether he is worthy of it can only be answered by Roy Harper.  As he pulls the small arrow that saved his life out from his pocket, Roy is illuminated by a bright red light – a not so subtle nod to the Red Arrow. 

And thus a hero’s journey begins with a second chance.

The Lance Family

This week on Loving the Lances… Dinah returns home with hopes of resurrecting their dead daughter but family secrets were unearthed instead. Dun dun dunnnnn!!!!

L*urel is on her own show, so I thought I’d give it a proper soap opera name. She never intersects with Oliver’s storyline except when she randomly pops up at the club looking for Tommy, but I digress. In all seriousness, this episode is pretty damn good because some scalding hot tea was spilled!

Dinah is CONVINCED that Sara is alive because she had the exact same baseball cap as the woman in the photo. This is such a weird detail to hang all her hopes on. Does Dinah think Sara was holding the rockets hat in her hand while she was swept out to sea? What’s with the hat? I HAVE QUESTIONS.

Long story short, Sara is truly dead. L*urel finds the woman in the photo. She’s American, spent some time in China and owns a Starling City Rocket’s hat. We’re going to pretend the Chinese Embassy can find some rando in a photo and deliver her name to L*urel in five seconds flat. Also, Oliver confirms once again Sara is dead and he never lies so we’re all good.

But now we can get to the really interesting part of this little Lance drama unfolding before us. L*urel has the same questions about the hat as I do! I am wildly uncomfortable being this much in agreement with her, but here we are.

Dinah came home while Sara was packing for her little get away with Oliver. She watched Sara pack the hat. Dinah told her not to go, but Sara said she was in love and following her heart even though others may not think it is right. Just like Dinah did with Quentin (side note – what’s the story on those two?)

Dinah: So I let her go. I killed my daughter.

HOLY FRIGGIN CRAP! MOMMY KNEW ABOUT THE CHEATING AND NOT ONLY DID SHE NOT SAYING ANYTHING TO L*UREL SHE LET SARA GO ON THE DAMN BOAT!!

This family is so jacked up. They make the Queens look halfway normal. Y’all I don’t even know what to do with this information. HOT. MESS. EXPRESS.

Clearly Dinah is riddled with guilt and is desperate to find Sara alive to erase the terrible decision she made, but she can’t erase it. Just like Oliver can’t.

Somehow this betrayal almost feels worse than what Oliver and Sara did. Alright, maybe that’s too harsh, but it feels just as bad. It feels like Dinah was taking sides and she chose Sara. 

I really need a therapy session with these women to unpack all that, but this is Arrow and L*urel doesn’t get that much screen time. The best we’ll get is an awkward hug and L*urel asking her mother to call her sometime.

What L*urel is offering is a generous second chance. Perhaps she’s realized that forgiveness is less painful than holding onto all the anger and hurt. Perhaps Oliver coming home and her mother’s time away made her realize she wants Dinah in her life than not at all. It’s really only a decision L*urel can make, but it’s a chance Dinah needs to jump on. She didn’t stop being a mother when Sara died. L*urel needs her too.

Stray Thoughts

L*urel advises Thea to run from the bad boys. Snort. So it’s a “do what I say, not what I do” type of advice day.

Moira serves Frank up on a platter to Malcolm Merlyn as the person who hired Deadshot. Moira’s hands are getting pretty damn bloody.

It has to be hard on L*urel to see that the only time her parents can be in a room together, affectionately touching, and being on the same team, is when they are searching for Sara. I really felt bad for her this episode. Ugh.

Slade and Oliver ransom the chips for a boat. It goes disastrously. Now Yao Fei is captured again.

Hey! Shado speaks English and can kick ass. Neat!

 “Keeps my ears warm.” He jokes!

“I’ll be home in a flash.” Dinah lives in Central City. Season 1 Jen didn’t get that reference, but I am a seasoned professional in the art of comic book references and I totally picked up on it the second time.

“Stay” by Rihanna was playing during Oliver & L*urel’s scene at the end of the episode. This was my song of pain in 2013. The Vampire Diaries used it in a particularly agonizing Stefan and Elena scene as well that year.  It's like white hot pokers in my heart.

Listen to the Watchover podcast reaction to 1x18!!!

If you’d like to support the blog, please buy me a cup of tea!

Disclaimer: Any gifs on the blog are not mine. If you would like a gif removed from my reviews, please message me.

[dum-spiro-spero99]

THEY WOULD BE SO SO PROUD OF YOU

thanks to @pineapplecrispy for the suggestion + italian bonus, Owen WIlson bonus and historically inaccurated emo boys bonus

Other request (dm/comments)

[if-you-like-pina-colada-s]

Bruce, walking into the manor: Hello people who do not live here.

Clark: Hi :D

Diana: Hey!

Oliver: 'sup man

Dinah: yo

Hal: Hiii

Barry: Heyo

Arthur: wassup

Billy: Hey

Bruce: Why are you here??

Barry, mouth full of doritos: We ran out of doritos

----

Bonus:

Bruce: Alfred, why the hell did you let them in??

Alfred, casually having tea w J'onn, whose just happy his son has friends: They ran out of doritos master Bruce, what was I to do? Let them starve??

Bruce: >:(

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Bat Family Fact Files from DC Comics: The Ultimate Character Guide

Baby's first bat family. Sorry, there wasn't a Black Bat.

My favourite bit is that Steph's epithet is "Daring Defender" while Tim's is "Daring Detective".

[incorrectbatfam]

Ollie: Can I copy your mission report?

Clark: I can help you with it!

Dinah: Yeah sure.

Arthur: Bold of you to assume I did the mission report.

Diana: Lol nope.

Barry: Wait, we had a mission report?

Bruce: *read at 5:55 PM*

[lowquats]

HAPPY PRIDE MONTH 💙💖🤍💖💙

[tetheredbysin]

the world would be such a better place if people realized "this driver bought his seat in F1" isn't a valid argument. it is physically impossible to make it to F1 without paying teams ridiculous amounts of money. whether the money comes from sponsors, family fortune or a goddamn bank heist, it doesn't matter. the money is still there.

[ky-landfill]

[autisticlancemcclain]

The ship was shaking like a kid holding a goldfish bag.

It was not, in case you were wondering, a good time. 

Keith grit his teeth, planting his boots on the ground and half-walking half-climbing over to Allura, who was paler than Keith had ever seen her. The grip she had on her podium was tight enough to drain the blood completely from her knuckles. Despite his own fear, Keith’s heart softened for her. 

“How is it looking?” he asked, shouting over the noise of a thousand asteroids and a million laser strikes. All while their lions sat, drained of quintessence, locked in their hangars

One goddamn thing after another. Jesus. 

“It is looking bad,” Allura shouted, not taking her eyes off the space in front of her. “I can’t – Coran, I can’t hold it on my own!”

Coran looked back at her grimly. He had probably the most success keeping upright – seriously, was it posture or did he have a steel rod anchored to his back at all times – but even he was struggling against the whipping and shuddering of the massive castleship, attention focused on the controls. Trying to keep the shield up as well as possible, trying to get their own defenses running. Trying, as always, to keep the castle going, even when the odds were a million to nothing. 

“You can,” he encouraged. The effect was less encouraging when a massive asteroid hit the side of the bridge point-blank, throwing him right off the controls and splat into the walls. Despite Lance and Allura’s cries of alarm, he made a startlingly dignified crawl back to the deck controls.

Hell of a man, that advisor. 

He continued once he was steady, sweat beading on his brow but gaze soft and assuring. He waited for Allura to meet his eyes, then nodded, once. “Focus, girl. Hands on the spheres. Mind cool on the exhale. However we need to get out of this – you can guide us. Make your decision. Your team is behind you.”

“Yeah!” Pidge cheered, lifting her fist in emphasis from where Shiro held her steady, eyes trained on her computer screen. Blaring red lines of code Keith could not pretend to read flashing rapid speed in front of her, and she typed back at it just as fast, keeping their crackling systems at bay. “You got this!”

Allura breathed out. The tense line of her shoulders softened, just slightly, despite the ongoing chaos. She lifted her hands and rested them, gently, on the podium spheres as Coran instructed. They glowed. 

“We retreat,” she decided, nodding to herself. “We’re already low on quintessence, standing to fight will drain us dangerously. We must get to safety if we are to survive with our home intact.” She bit her lip, eyes opening. “But, uh, full disclosure, I have enough strength in me to open a wormhole and that is About It. I will be out of commission the moment it closes.”

Hunk shrugged. “We’ll catch you, then.”

“Try not to wormhole us into a black hole,” Shiro suggested, smiling slightly. “We’ll manage anything else, Princess.”

She laughed slightly, thankfully, but within seconds called out for everyone to brace themselves. Keith did as she heeded, or he tried to – but the castle got hit as he tried to crawl back to his seat, sprawling him on the floor. He glanced over at Allura, panicked, but her eyes were already glowing, and the space in front of them was already starting to warp. He swallowed roughly, squeezing his eyes shut. The floor was shaking too badly for him to get his bearings. He couldn’t get his feet under him, couldn’t stand, couldn’t dream to crawl to his seat. He stilled, resigning himself – he didn’t know exactly what would happen if he wasn't strapped down and protected during a wormhole jump, but it couldn’t be good. He had to hope for the best.

“God,” sighed a voice to his left, “you’d die without me, Dropout.”

A hand clenched the back of his jacket and yanked, pulling him tumbling onto another body. Quick as lightning a seatbelt was stretched over him, clicking into place just as the space in front of the castle finally warped, bright blue, and the entire bridge lit up so bright Keith was blind with it. 

When the light finally died down, Keith was half-convinced nothing had changed. The castle stopped shaking, but instead it was plummeting, hard and fast, controls dead and energy gone, towards the surface of a planet. 

“Someone catch Allura!” Coran shouted, and on queue the princess’ eyes rolled up in her head and she slumped forward. Luckily, Hunk had been more prepared than the rest of them, seatbelt already off and arms extended to catch her. He carried her back to her seat, buckling her in carefully, and strapping himself in next to her. Wise move – trying to crawl back to his own seat, fighting against the G-forces, would be near impossible.

There was a click, and then a shove, and then Keith got to feel those G-forces firsthand.

“What the hell!” he demanded, barely managing to catch himself on the arm of the blue paladin’s seat. “I coulda brained myself!”

Lance shrugged, playing for innocent, but a smirk pulled at the corner of his mouth. Keith could’ve strangled him. “What? Thought I’d let you get back to your own chair. You're welcome for saving you, by the way.”

“Some saving, jerk! We're still falling!”

“Yeah. Personally, I would find somewhere to buckle up.”

“You’re so annoying,” Keith growled, and it was by spite alone that he managed to stomp back to his own seat and buckle himself in. He was bright red, anger making him hot – Lance always made him like this, so furious he could barely blink. One day they’d be making progress, working together like a dream, wiping the floor together, and the next it was like a switch was flipped. Like Lance was reminding himself that he and Keith could never get along. It was ridiculous, and Keith couldn’t for the life of him understand it. Was he so bad?

“Incoming!” Pidge shouted, shaking Keith back to himself. Her screen was now linked up with Coran’s, the only two things on in the entire castle – electronics seemed to come alive when Pidge touched them – and diagrams of the castle systems were blaring red, flashing with symbols Keith didn’t know, but recognised as bad. “The nav and power systems are down! It’s not safe to get anyone back there to force them back on manually, but I think I can get steering up in a sec. Shiro, I need your arm for power. Hunk, keep on Allura, make sure she’s upright when we crash, we don’t want a spinal injury. Lance, Keith, I’m turning steering over to you guys. Don’t fuck it up.”

Despite their bickering, both of them nodded. Neither of them particularly wanted to be turned into paladin pancake anytime soon, so they could collaborate for one thing. 

Seconds after Pidge spoke, a screen flickered to life in front of Keith. Stats blinked back up, glitching rapidly as they translated themselves into words and symbols Keith could understand. The hologram shifted and expanded to its usual 3D model, joystick in the middle, thrusters and controls to his left, a screen with Lance’s comm line to his right. In his little screen, Lance met his eyes, eyebrows raised in question. Keith nodded. Together, they wrapped their hands around the joysticks, breathed out, and let their minds fuse.

As always, it was a freaky feeling. Imagine the weird, shuddery feeling you get when you say the same thing as someone at the same time, voices layering, tone mixing, for a moment your own voice and the voice of a stranger synching into one. The weird, deja-vu-but-not of it, the uncanny valley feel of recognising your own voice but…different. 

Then multiply that freakiness by a hundred, and you still won’t quite get it. 

On some levels Keith was aware that he was his own person. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history – or well, some of it. Nothing about himself had changed. 

But at the same time, he was also Lance Esposita-McClain. He knew his name, knew his hands, knew his history, more of it than he could ever get from shared stories or mind melds. There’s no telling the way your sister’s arm feels hooked around your neck for the sixth noogie in as many minutes. There’s no explaining the way your breathing only gets calm with your feet in the saltwater. There’s no describing the curve of your mother’s smile. Nothing Keith was seeking out – no memories he would even know to look for – but they were there, simmering, triggered by a smell or the crook of his finger in a particular way. Memories stored in the body and the soul and the senses, not in the brain, shared when two consciousnesses become one. 

Lance’s mind was hyperspecific. It complemented Keith’s well, with all his flitting, quick detail-oriented observance. As Keith jumped from angle to angle, noticing the planet’s curve, the pull of its gravity, the heat of its atmosphere, Lance zeroed in on an island, one of the only ones big enough for them to land. While Keith kept their craft in control, steering along the air currents, Lance kept them directed, single-minded focus on a stretch of rocky beach – not exactly a soft landing, but not a lot of living things for them to destroy when they crash. (Keith would’ve chosen to land in the meadow. Crushing frogs and bugs or whatever is never something on his top priority list of things to avoid. But he didn’t argue when Lance nudged them towards what is about to be a very bumpy landing.)

“Brace yourself!” he shouted, not daring to look away to make sure his friends were buckled. Trusting that they were, he held his position, letting them plummet, coming closer and closer to splatting on the planet’s surface before finally yanking on the joystick as hard as he could. He felt Lance’s strength twist and tangle with his own, and together the two of them levelled the castle almost parallel with the ground, letting them glide on their own velocity until they slowed down enough to let the bottom of the craft brush against the rocky outcrop. 

It was the most turbulent landing Keith has ever felt, except maybe that time he and Lance crashed blindfolded into a sand dune, and every bump on the ground gave him whiplash. When the castle finally hit the ground for good, dragging them a gauge in the ground for several miles as friction finally slowed it to a stop, the leftover inertia yanked Keith forward so roughly the buckles of his seatbelt made something crack in his ribcage. When the castle finally stopped he got slammed back into his chair so hard he was almost surprised he didn’t fall right through the impenetrable material. 

It took a minute for everything to hit. His connection with Lance had been severed the second they hit the ground, too focused on being, y’know, crashed to keep holding on. After the shock of being tossed around like dice in a cup wore off, which did not take long, Keith’s body made it very clear that yeah, no, armour actually only does so much, and crash landing is one of those things that’s just bound to hurt. His skull pounded. At least one of his ribs was most definitely cracked. His wristed and knuckles ached from the strain of holding up the entire weight of the castle as he’d steered it. He was alive, obviously, but – Jesus. Being alive sucked.

“Sound off,” croaked Shiro from somewhere left of him.

“Ugh,” groaned Pidge. “Screw you, Keith, I hate it when you drive.”

“Next time I’ll be sure to let us crash,” Keith responded flatly.

“Um, you did, bozo, I asked you to land us –”

“The castle was dead! What did you expect me to –”

“Allura and I are both fine,” Hunk interrupted. Amusement lined his voice. “She’s still out, but she’s breathing fine, and I didn’t let her hit anything on impact. She should still get checked out, though.”

“Roger that,” Coran agreed. “Ease your worries, Number Two, you did well. I will have her in the MedBay as soon as our systems are up and running again.”

“Oh, whew, that’s a relief, because I didn’t want to say anything but she kinda jammed her elbow into my sternum by accident and I’m not blaming her or anything since she’s unconscious but I think my spleen may be a little dead, not a huge deal I’m sure but –”

“Everyone quiet!” barked Shiro. “That’s six accounted for! Who’s missing?”

Immediately, heart pounding, Keith whipped to his right. His stomach dropped. The Blue Lion Command Chair was empty – seatbelt torn somewhere on the shoulder, cracked helmet overturned carelessly on the seat. The crisp blue and white lines were marred by a small splash of red. Panic clawed its way up Keith’s throat, and he was out of his seat before he could register unbuckling his own straps, looking frantically around the bridge. 

“He’s here somewhere,” Pidge fretted, “he couldn’t’ve just disappeared –” 

Coran had a gloved hand clenched in his hair. “The windows and walls should be almost impenetrable, there is no way the crash broke them enough to let someone in –”

“What the fuck, what the fuck, what the fuck –”

“Guys,” a soft voice interrupted, and Keith could’ve collapsed with relief. The castle has been flipped sideways during the fall, floor suddenly now 90 degrees, and standing at the side of the control board, now the very high top, was Lance. For whatever reason he had climbed it while they bickered, and now stood very still, gloved hand pressed to the glass of the windshield. Blood trickled from his temple, tracing a line down the side of his face, disappearing in the neckline of his armour. “We got company.”

Shifting gears – Keith was about to tear him a new one, when Shiro says sound off you sound off – but froze when he looked out the window, following Lance’s gaze.

Marching towards them, in numbers Keith couldn’t pretend to count, was an army.

— — —

part two

[audhd-nightwing]

i need more Wayne and Queen family interactions in gala fics tbh

give me bruce and ollie competing to be the most annoying rich himbo of the night

give me dinah and selina rolling their eyes at their boys and judging everyone

give me roy who brings lian as a social buffer (it’s fine she loves dressing up and getting attention), and dick who steals her halfway through the night to carry her on his shoulders

give me connor hawke, tim and damian loitering by the food table until they find a moment to sneak out and go on patrol

give me cass who quietly leans against the wall next to mia dearden and they watch the crowd together

give me jason who makes roy slow dance with him in order to cause Drama and to annoy bruce and ollie

[f1-disaster-bi]

"Welcome to the Alonso family. These are my children, Landito and Lancito, and that tall thing is the stray cat I tolerate because Lancito likes him"

[astralscrivener]

keith and lance are so ride or die for each other it's not even funny

[armed-with-a-waffle-iron]

Bat Timeline vs Bat Publication Timeline

I kept my receipts and citations here. I felt canon ages are the best tool to track time. Also, I used cover dates.

Neat things I noticed:

Nothing much happened in Gotham until Robin arrived both in continuity and in print history. Sorry but your lone wolf Batman doesn't exist :P

Dick permanently becomes Batman at the same age Bruce was when he became Batman; 25. Kinda poetic if you ask me.

Babs was Oracle longer than she was Batgirl in both continuity and publication history!!

Completely forgot that Dinah was literally her own mother once upon a time. Weird stuff.

There's not enough Jason!Robin stories to fit the 3 years some fans claim he was Robin for. Also the 3 years idea doesn't work if you track Dick's age. My guess is he was originally younger than 15 when he died but DC aged him up so he could be an adult when he returned as Red Hood.

It's pretty clear that Helena's integration into the group began the expansion of this complicated "family unit". She set the precedent for those noirish vigilante work relations.

Tim has to be a vampire if he's meant to be 17 three whole very explicit in-continuity years after he had his 16th birthday.

Stephanie has basically been in this gig as long as Tim! And almost as long as Helena too. Proper seasoned ass-kicker who Damian should look to for pointers.

Also remembered that Cassandra's Batgirl run is the best thing to come out of Gotham in the early 2000s.

I dunno I think the One Year Later timeskip was just unnecessary.

Kate and Renee are almost as new to the vigilante gig as Damian!

Bat-adjacent Rose Wilson was said to be 14 during her first appearance around Year 15 so she's the same age Tim.

Not Bat related but Lian Harper's age works with my timeline so yay! Born early Year 14, she's 5 during Cry for Justice in Year 19.

I have a theory, based off of Batman #416, that Dick graduated high school at 17. He says he was Bruce's partner for 6 years and that after he was fired; he left college after the 1st semester, then moved around the country, had his own adventures, and "eventually" ended up with the Titans. Also, he was 21 during the Titans' 3rd anniversary (New Titans v2 #71) and 19 when he became Nightwing (Tales of the Titans #44) so the Titans (re-)formed when he was 18. This means he probably only turned 18 in the academic year he began college (or has a summer birthday). So he was Bruce's partner from ages 11-17, did his own thing for a while as he did in the 70s, eventually joined the Titans at 18, and became Nightwing at 19. Jason comes into the picture soon after Dick retires the Robin identity.

[incorrectbatfam]

What's the REAL reason Batman doesn't want Metas in Gotham?

His friends keep asking him for money in ways that almost blow his cover

[bleh1bleh2]

S'mores !!!!