The first day of the new school year began much the same as any other; being accosted by the hallway monitor for dawdling, having inappropriate footwear and daring to possess yet another pair of headphones, only for them to remember who he was and abandon any hopes of receiving an explanation, or an excuse.
Robin thought he would’ve outgrown his selective mutism by now, but apparently, it didn’t work like that. He’d eventually seen a therapist a few years prior, but the poor man didn’t exactly have a handbook for “strange child who can’t speak sometimes due to other people’s overwhelming head voices but won’t/can’t explain himself to anyone other than a ghost who’s stuck in his attic” so, it’d fallen a little flat.
At least, that’s what he kept telling himself; but the older he got, the more he started to think he’d been using his gift as a convenient excuse for some of his issues. Maybe. Possibly.
Much less bombarded than when he was little, Robin could usually tune out the everyday chatter within surrounding minds, though he rarely did. He’d become far too accustomed to being nosy, and at this point it was weirder NOT to hear everyone else’s thoughts. It produced an intense itchy feeling that was almost impossible to ignore, as though he’d miss something important the moment he stopped listening.
As a result, Robin struggled to live in the moment, and for himself; constantly juggling other people’s thoughts and emotions as well as his own.
Sometimes he wondered if he’d understand his brain better if it belonged to someone else, like if he could observe it from a distance as with everyone else, it’d make more sense-.. or maybe paying more attention in Mr Fitzherbert’s biology classes would help. He supposed he was still overwhelmed after all, just better at hiding it.
Either way, he wasn’t about to admit to all this nonsense out loud, especially not if it landed him in Doctor Abbott’s office again. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to find out how weird he actually was, least of all a psychologist. Think of all the experiments they’d want to do, all the prodding and poking-.. or worse. Robin shuddered at the thought. No, thank you!
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Dream of the Endless does dumb stuff in my fics. Sometimes people point out that he does dumb stuff in my fics. Sometimes I get a little self-conscious about it, because I worry that they think he's OOC or should have acted differently, which is ultimately on me as the writer.
Then I remember that Dream is canonically a moron. Literally. Stated in the text, he's an idiot.
Lucienne's body language is clear. Unity is right but she's too loyal/diplomatic to agree with her aloud.
I could turn this into an entire essay of images and quotes from the comic and show of Dream doing dumb shit, like calling on the Fates before seeking help literally anywhere else. Or how Destruction points out that Dream just deliberately forgets anything that doesn't hold his interest or (implied by extension) agree with his worldview.
Everyone with any brains in "The Sandman" agrees that Dream is very dramatic and very pretty (thanks, Hob) and not the least bit intelligent.
This fact gives me great delight.
And so I shall continue to adhere as close to canon as possible, and continue to make Dream the fucking moron that he truly is. Bless.
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Oh my word, you guys.
Clark Kent's glasses. What is they aren't fake.
As in. He doesn't need a prescription. But what if the glasses are prescription? Have you ever tried looking through prescription glasses that aren't yours? How wonky it is? I'd find it pretty irritating to go around all day in some that were even slightly off.
But I'm thinking about it and . . . this guy is physical perfection, basically. But he's always pretending to be an ordinary, even somewhat klutzy, human. That must be hard to maintain all the time. Having to constantly make sure you aren't TOO perfect? Always trying to find a balance of acting slightly off-kilter, even klutzy, so people would never suspect?
Maybe giving himself bad vision is a simple way to naturally handicap himself. Make him just a little more cautious and unsteady. He's still have to be careful, of course - but Clark is always super (ha) aware of his own strength. Maybe the glasses help make it a little easier, take a little of the pressure off, because they naturally give him a minor, normal weakness he doesn't have to fake?
It's a little thing, wearing wrong-prescription glasses when he could just wear non-prescription frames (and hope nobody every looked through them and questioned why he was faking). But maybe that little bit of distortion of his vision, making himself feel just slightly off-balance but in a way that he can shed when he needs to save the day . . . maybe it helps him feel a little more human.
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hear me out on this ok. ROTS AU where Anakin still turns to the dark side but that's Palpatine's problem.
So, Palpatine decides last minute that ehhhh maybe dooku could come in handy later and he doesn't encourage Anakin to kill him, and Dooku gets arrested and imprisoned in the Jedi Temple awaiting trial. (Also he didn't get his hands cut off because of uhh plot reasons?)
Fast forward.
Palpatine is encouraging Anakin towards the Dark side, tells him about Plagueis the Wise, etc. etc. But see, the thing is, Anakin is at the end of his tether, probably hasn't slept more than three hours over the past week, and has no remaining impulse control or inhibitions, and upon hearing that the Dark Side can save people from death, his first thought is, "wait a sec, we've got a Sith Lord in-house at the moment!" and he sprints out of the space opera and books it back to the temple.
Now, Dooku has been calmly waiting in Temple custody, confident that Darth Sidious will arrange his escape. But THEN Anakin barges into the cell like OMG THE CHANCELLOR TOLD ME THE SITH KNOW HOW TO KEEP PEOPLE FROM DYING AND I'M HAVING DREAMS ABOUT SOMEONE DYING AND I NEED YOUR HELP TO SAVE THEM
At which point, Dooku realizes Palpatine's plan. He's going to tempt Skywalker to the Dark side and REPLACE DOOKU. this is totally uncool.
So he's like "...who are you dreaming about, exactly?"
Anakin freezes. He can't admit it's Padme because their relationship is top-secret and he can't admit how important she is to him so he tries to think of a good fib and goes "uhhhh OBI-WAN! Obi-Wan, it's Obi-Wan, I'm dreaming about Obi-Wan dying-" and he just throws himself into the drama because now he IS imagining obi-wan dying because Obi-Wan is fighting grievous at the moment and he MIGHT ACTUALLY DIE and that's in addition to Padme dying and he's totally spiraling at this point- "pleasepleaseplease you gotta help me he's like the only father i've ever known I don't know what i'll do without obi-wan I have to save him YOU GOTTA TELL ME WHAT TO DO I'LL DO ANYTHING--"
Dooku begins to smile.
(Would stealing Skywalker out from under his Master's nose be petty? Oh, yeah.)
(But it would also be very, very satisfying.)
---
Obi-Wan calls in to a council meeting to report his defeat of Grievous, but before he can say so, Mace announces that Dooku has escaped and the Sith Master has been killed.
Silence falls between the eleven councilmembers (eleven, not twelve, because their newest one is conspicuously absent. Obi-Wan wonders just what Anakin's up to now. Honestly, that boy will be the death of him.)
Obi-Wan clears his throat.
"...indeed," he says, trying to handle the shocking news with composure. "Well... at least we're down to one Sith, now."
Another awkward pause.
"Yeah, about that--" Mace begins.
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