#teens monitoring process

[novelistwriter]

Phantom Academy

DP x DC Prompt

A mysterious island housing an academy had mysteriously popped up in the bay that separates Gotham and Metropolis. There was nothing that showed how it came to be, no strange energy spikes, no noises in the night, no light show in the night either, and when the the Watchtower showed the satellite view from above, it wasn't there one second, but there the next.

The next day from after it arrived, ads for the building, Phantom Academy, began to pop up across both cities and across the television on commercials for further away cities.

It didn't take long for people to start sending their kids to the Academy, as it's a mostly free admission, and if you aren't close enough to send your kid(s) there? The Academy provides transportation for the kid(s) that get to the Academy on time, with tech that's much more advanced than the Justice League and the Bats tech as well.

From what the League could acquire about the Academy's staff, they are people that haven't existed before the day the Academy arrived in between Gotham and Metropolis.

The Principal of the Academy, Daniel Nightingale, who runs both the Academy and two classes, Chemistry and Engineering. Jasmine Nightingale, the vice principal, and the councilor for students to consult in with problems they have of any kind. Tucker Foley, the teacher for Computer Science, and the one who supposedly runs the cyber security for the Academy. Samantha Manson, the Gardening teacher, and a Meta with plant powers who isn't afraid to hide her powers. Paulina Sanchez, the coach for the cheerleaders of the Academy who is aided by Star Anderson. Dash Baxter, Gym Teacher, and coach for the football team, the Specters. Wesley Weston, another gym teacher, and coach to the Academy's basketball team. Valerie Grey, the self-defense instructor for the Academy and the one in charge of the security for the Academy. The Justice League couldn't get any information on the rest of the staff for the Academy (because of the fact that the rest of the staff are Ghosts and are in the process of getting identification for them).

Ember is the music teacher, Lunch Lady is the Foods teacher, and, obviously, the Lunch Lady, Clockwork is the History and English teacher, Pandora helps Valerie for the self-defense classes, Undergrowth helps Sam in her gardening classes, Nocturne runs naptime for any little kids attending the academy, Frostbite is the on site doctor for the Academy, Technus helps Tucker for both Computer Science and the cyber security, Boxy manages the boxes in the storage areas for the Academy, Skulker helps Valerie with security, Walker is the detention teacher, Ghost Writer is the librarian, and Fright Knight is the hall monitor.

The Justice League needs to find out what the intentions of the Academy staff are because Batman is too paranoid to accept that they are clean and not planning anything nefarious. So they plan to send Young Justice, the Teen Titans, and other younger League members to investigate the Academy as students of the Academy.

[charlietheepicwriter7]

Despite Danny's best efforts, no matter how much time past, Amity Park refused to see Phantom as a hero.

Sure, there were pockets of support, particularly among teens, but most of the town blames Phantom for the property damage, saying if he didn't fight the ghosts then it wouldn't be so bad, to that time he got mind controlled by Freakshow and "attacked" the mayor. It wears him down. It wears Tucker and Sam down. Jazz can only try to support them all.

Then one day, a member of the Justice League visits. Someone minor, and kinda a jerk... maybe a Wonder Twin? Zan? Whatever. They don't investigate; they don't look deeper. They listen to the town folks and declare the ghost hunters, Red Huntress and the Fentons, to be the official heroes of the town.

Worse? Danny Phantom is officially considered a villain to the Justice League. Tuck hacks into the Watchtower and confirms that they have a file (a heavily inaccurate file) about how to defeat Phantom.

Danny doesn't think he can do this anymore.

A few weeks later, a young villain escapes into Amity and demands (begs) that Danny help them escape from the hero after them. No idea who, I can't find a lot of info on teen villains in DC, so let's fudge some ages and make it Kyd Wyckyd from the Teen Titans cartoon. Danny agrees, because to hell with the Justice Losers, and they defeat the hero, becoming friends in the process. Kyd confesses that they became a villain after being ostracized bc of how they look, and they've been trying to avoid villain organizations because HIVE was abusive, but it's really hard to be a villain alone bc of all the heroes.

Sam gets an idea. Tucker agrees with the idea. Jazz is just happy they'll end up making friends.

The next day, the Teen Villain Alliance is formed, ready to assist with any teenage illegal shenanigans their allies might get into.

Some notes:

It's created to be a healthier option for teen "villains" to connect with others and support each other.

It's more important that this is for Teens rather than Villains. They're tired of adult villains taking advantage of them. The TVA would rather ally with a teen vigilante than with an adult villain.

Again, no idea who the teen villains are, but Klarion is definitely here. He leaves the Light for the chaos of the TVA. Maybe Ember is there too?

Timeline wise, this is around when Tim is still Robin, but Damien has arrived at Wayne Manor.

This is because, when it comes time to try to infiltrate the TVA, they'll have a convenient child-assassin who has none of the monitors of a teen hero that Phantom immediately picks up on.

Damien, who at this point has been abandoned by his mother, dismissed and scolded by his father, and has had no success at carving his own place in the family, jumps at the chance. He is then surrounded by peers who don't insult him or try to change his behavior (too much; jazz is trying to help him find healthier methods of expressing himself). He... might not want to continue being a spy.

Danny, Sam, Tuck, and Jazz are the founding members.

Danny reinvents himself as the High Prince of the Infinite, Prince Phantom Dark. He got kingship from fighting Pariah Dark, but since he's still alive, he's only a prince. He steals the last name Dark as an intimidation tatic against those in the know; only Danny would have the balls to claim family with Pariah.

Sam works as a powerless villain, but she might no be powerless? Either way, Danny gives her a bunch of repurposed Fenton tech, and she buys the rest with her parents credit card. She does NOT care if that's traced back to the Mansons. She would choose something goth, maybe something spider related or even bat?

I love Pharaoh Tucker, so I think he should get magic powers? Since pharaohs of old were considered the balance between the real and the divine. He's still a tech guy, now he's a tech and magic guy.

Jazz isn't really a villain, more of a team mom who's planning on using everyone's psyche's as her thesis paper. You know what, that's her callsign, she's Psyche. Sometimes she flirts with Nightwing.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[honeyscara]

Chapter 4

Seongje love masterlist | whc masterlist

Prev chapter | next chapter

After everything that happened earlier, the rest of the school day passed in a daze. You couldn’t stop replaying the scene—Seongje storming into that classroom like a force of nature, his anger, the way he didn’t even hesitate to defend you.

When the final bell rang, you packed up slowly, unsure of what to expect. But as you stepped out the school gates, he was already leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, waiting for you.

“You coming or what?” he asked with a casual tilt of his head.

You raised an eyebrow. “Coming where?”

He just smirked. “You’ll see.”

A short walk later, you found yourself in a dim, neon-lit underground gaming area—walls plastered with posters, the clatter of arcade machines and clicking of buttons echoing around. The glow from the monitors lit up Seongje’s face in flashes of color as he stepped inside like he owned the place.

You followed, half-curious, half-nervous. “You hang out here?”

“Sometimes,” he said, leading you to the back where a row of racing games stood. “Helps me not punch things when I’m pissed.”

You gave him a sideways look. “So this is... anger management?”

“Something like that.” He shot you a glance, a rare flicker of apology in his expression. “Didn’t mean to drag you into all that earlier. But if I didn’t deal with them, they’d think it was okay to pull that stunt again.”

You sat down on the second racing machine, gripping the wheel. “I didn’t ask you to fight for me.”

“I know,” he said, sliding into the seat next to you. “Doesn’t mean I wouldn’t.”

You didn’t say anything right away. The game countdown started, the screen flashing 3... 2... 1... and then you both hit the gas.

“You always this intense with people who tell you no?” you muttered as you drifted around the first corner.

Seongje laughed, eyes locked on the screen. “Only when i like them.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that tugged at your lips.

The race ended with you barely beating him. He stared at the screen like it personally offended him, then turned to you with narrowed eyes. “You cheated.”

“I’m just better.”

He leaned closer, one arm resting on the back of your seat. “Dangerous and cocky. You’re gonna be trouble.”

Your heart thudded in your chest—but you held your ground, locking eyes with him. “You started it.”

For a second, the teasing smile dropped into something more softer. Like he was genuinely enjoying spending time with you.

“I wasn’t lying you know,” he said quietly. “You really do interest me.”

You looked away, flustered but trying not to show it. “You say that like it’s a good thing.”

“It is,” he replied, standing up and stretching. “For me. Might be a pain in the ass for you, though.”

You followed him to the snack machines, still trying to process everything. “So what now?”

He handed you a can of soda, cracking one open for himself. “Now?” He glanced at you sideways. “You owe me a rematch.”

The arcade buzzed with life, a low thrum of energy pulsing through the neon-lit space. You and Seongje bounced from game to game—racing, shooting, even a claw machine where he stubbornly tried (and failed) to win a stuffed bear, muttering curses under his breath every time the claw slipped.

You couldn’t help but laugh at his frustration, which only made him glare at you playfully.

“You try then,” he challenged, stepping aside.

You took the controls and, after two tries, managed to snag a small plush keychain. Holding it up triumphantly, you gave him a smug look.

“Beginner’s luck,” he scoffed, but he didn’t hide his grin. “Guess I gotta keep you around for competitions.”

Time blurred as the two of you moved through the arcade, the air between you easing—less tension, more banter. For a while, it almost felt normal. Like he wasn’t the infamous Seongje from the Union, and you weren’t the girl who recorded his gang beating someone up. Just two teens wasting time, forgetting the weight of the world outside.

Eventually, you stepped out into the cool evening air. The sun had dipped low, casting the streets in warm hues. You walked side by side, your bag slung lazily over your shoulder, his hands shoved in his pockets.

Neither of you spoke at first.

Then Seongje broke the silence.

“I’ve been thinking,” he said, voice lower now—less cocky, more honest. “About leaving the Union.”

You blinked, stopping in your tracks slightly before catching up again. “Wait, what?”

He glanced sideways at you. “I didn’t say I will, but... I think about it.”

“Why? Isn’t it everything you’ve worked for?”

You looked at him, really looked, and realized that for once, the sharp edges around him seemed a little duller. There was a tiredness beneath the bravado—a quiet weight in his eyes.

“I don’t know,” he added, voice softer.

You swallowed, unsure how to respond at first. “Would they let you go?”

He gave a dry laugh. “No one leaves clean. But I’m not scared of them. I’m just..tired.”

But the truth was, he was scared—just not of them. He was scared of you getting dragged into it, of your hands getting stained by the same mess he was drowning in. He had done a lot of things without regret or for fun, but if something ever touched you because of him… that was the one thing he wouldn’t be able to forgive himself for.

“You’re more human than I thought,” you said quietly, nudging his arm.

“Don’t spread that around,” he smirked, regaining a bit of his usual attitude. “Gotta keep up my image.”

You both laughed, the tension lifting a little.

As your house came into view, he slowed to a stop. “You should get inside. It’s getting late.”

You hesitated. “Seongje... thanks for today..”

He looked at you, really looked, something flickering behind his eyes.

“ah don't thank me, you make me seem like I'm a good guy,” he said, then turned to walk off, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.You watched him go, wondering just how deep the cracks in his armor ran.

Tag: @gacktsa

[august-anon]

Could we please have a fic

Where Tim is still adjusting to being a lil bro and he's still a bit nervous around Jason because the RH incident and Jason is fully aware that his lil bro is scared of him, and then Dick, (very purposefully) tells Jason that Tim is ticklish. Jason decides to use this information.

editing? who's she? (aka i was too lazy to edit a 5.5K tickle fic i just wanted to post it jksdhsdjfh)

also, seeing as my life is consumed by DC/esp the Batfam right now i was compelled to actually do my research for this fic and i went and found teen titans volume 3 #29 and looked through their fight. and dont get me wrong i love a good titans tower fic, tim drake is The whumpable character ever, but it is SO FUNNY to me the way fandom has apparently blown this so out of proportion because skimming that fight between the two it was literally like. the vigilante equivalent of squaring up behind the Waffle House at 3am while Jason is wearing a Party City Robin outfit sdjfhdsfj it was so unserious, he was definitely a theater kid lol, Tim wasn't even busted up that bad the worst he had was a bloody nose and maybe a concussion from the final blow lol

so i leaned more into the canon energy of it (snarky Tim who held his own decently well) because i think the whole fanon "he-almost-murdered-me-and-i'm-traumatized-and-terrified" energy leans into a fear dynamic that i am not necessarily comfortable exploring in a fluffy tickle fic? so i hope that's alright and that you still enjoy this fic even though i didnt full lean into that "scared of jason" energy i think you were looking for!

_______________________

Brothers Forged in Laughter

Fandom: Batfamily (no specific source material/continuity -- though i do briefly reference Teen Titans volume 3 #29)

Ship(s): Gen!!! Platonic!! Familial!! No batcest here

Characters (lee/ler): Lee!Tim & Ler!Jason (plus a very brief Ler!Dick)

Word Count: 5623 words

Summary: Tim wasn’t Jason's little brother, not really. Just because they got taken in by the same rich asshole did not mean they were related. But, well, the kid was kind of asking for it at this point. Maybe getting tickled to tears on the training mats by your asshole predecessor would become a Robin right-of-passage.

[ao3 link]

_______________________

Developing an unspoken sort of truce with the Bats had not been on Jason’s to-do list when he returned to Gotham, especially after his little trip to Titan’s Tower or the explosive confrontation between him, Bruce, and the Joker. Really, Jason blamed Dick. He was like a leech, it was impossible to shake him once he got his teeth sunk in.

Still, it had its benefits. He didn’t have to worry about getting arrested and thrown in Arkham anymore, for one. Not to mention, the Bats left Crime Alley well alone now (bar an Arkham breakout), leaving the neighborhood to Jason’s expertise. But most of all: access to the Batcave.

Jason didn’t necessarily enjoy his visits to the Cave, but there were things that Bruce’s money could buy that Jason had difficulty getting his hands on. For instance, the state-of-the-art lab that was hooked up to the Batcomputer and all its insane processing speed. 

With Batman publicly off on a JL mission and no risk of running into Bruce, Jason didn’t hesitate breaking into the Batcave (was it really breaking in if they never deactivated Jason’s codes in the first place? Jason liked to think so) to study a concoction from his latest Scarecrow copy-cat that thought Crime Alley made a great testing ground. It was just his luck that the little replacement Robin happened to be down in the Cave at the same time, drowning in an oversized hoodie and staring down one of the Batcomputer’s monitors with bloodshot eyes. One of his arms was in a sling, but Jason didn’t keep track of the Bats’ cases enough to know what had caused the injury. He was more wilted than the oregano plant Jason had forgotten at one of his lesser-used safehouses. And, more importantly, he was in Jason’s way.

“Pretty sure little birdies are meant to be resting when their wings get clipped,” Jason called out as he walked up the steps toward the Batcomputer.

The line of Tim’s shoulders went taught as his head snapped around to glare at Jason. “I’m pretty sure zombie crime lords are supposed to stick to Crime Alley.”

Jason held up his sample of knock-off toxin, shaking the liquid inside. “Wouldn’t exactly be here if I didn’t have to.”

Tim’s lips pressed into a thin line as he huffed a breath out through his nose. “Fine.”

Jason rolled his eyes as he turned toward the mass spectrometer, fumbling a bit to set it up properly. It’d been a while since he’d had to use one, and the one in the Cave was a lot newer than the one he’d used as Robin. It didn’t help that the back of his neck burned from the eyes boring into it.

“Don’t need a babysitter, y’know.”

“Like I’m leaving you in the Cave unsupervised.”

Jason scoffed. “What am I gonna do, poison your juice boxes?” The machine finally started running rounds of analysis, so Jason spun around to lean against it, locking his eyes onto Tim. And the stack of soda cans next to him. “Or your Zesti, apparently. Alfred lets you drink all that shit?”

Tim stayed silent, narrowing his eyes.

Jason lit up. “He doesn’t, does he?” He laughed, eyeing the pile of empty cans again. “Maybe we should call him down right now, what do you say?”

Jason started towards Tim and the Batcomputer, only meaning to ruffle his hair, maybe tease him a bit more about his serious sugar addiction, but he came up short as Tim slipped a hand against the underside of the Batcomputer’s desk, fingers subtly searching. Jason knew there was a panic button under there, even though he’d never had to use it during his time as Robin. It would send alerts to Alfred, to Dick, to every device of Bruce’s – hell, it might even send alerts to Clark or Diana at this point. Jason really didn’t need Superman busting in with a disgruntled Batman in his arms while he was trying to get work done.

So he backed off, raising his hands in mocking surrender as he leaned back against the machinery behind him, playing it off with a sarcastic, “Damn then, Boy Wonder, keep your secrets.”

The rest of Jason’s visit to the Cave was spent in tense silence, only broken in brief intervals to discuss the specifics of Jason’s case and the results of the toxin analysis. Turns out it was developed from an older strain of Crane’s – the most current fear toxin antidote could wipe it out no problem.

It didn’t leave him as satisfied as it should have, feeling all off-kilter as he mounted his motorcycle and started his drive back to Crime Alley. He couldn’t shake the hard look in Tim’s eyes as his fingers searched the bottom of the desk. It was fucking infuriating. What should he care if the newest little Robin was scared of him, after all? He and the Bats weren’t a team, and Robin certainly wasn’t his responsibility.

Maybe Jason had inhaled a little of the toxin when running the analysis. That was all.

*     *     *

Scared wasn’t really the right word, Jason realized over time. Because Tim was very obviously not afraid of him. He would poke and prod at Jason, even outright mock him sometimes. His glares were fierce and intense, his tone short and snappy. At times, he almost seemed to be seeking out a fight, like he wanted a rematch, to prove the words he said back at Titan’s Tower.

“Do you think you’re that good now? Do you really, Tim?”

“Yes.”

Wary seemed more accurate. He wasn’t frightened of Jason, but he was mostly certainly on edge. Even more so when Jason started visiting the Manor itself, finally giving in to Alfred and Dick’s invitations (though he still staunchly refused the invitations for family dinners – no way in hell he was being civil with Bruce for that long.). Tim would eye Jason like one would a particularly reactive dog – cautious and ready to act, but without any outright fear or anxiety.

And Jason… he could live with that. He didn’t particularly enjoy it, but it’s not like they were family or anything. Just because Bruce took in the kid didn’t make them brothers – and it wasn’t like Bruce was his father anymore, anyway. The itch that grew under Jason’s skin when Tim would look at him like that was purely from having eyes on him, that was all. And he didn’t feel guilty for making the kid feel like that, thank you very much – that lingering weight in his chest was just a perfectly normal reaction to Dick’s puppy-dog eyes every time he and Tim sniped at each other. 

Seriously. No grown man should be able to make that expression. It was unnatural. 

He was so used to Tim’s cold shoulders that when he arrived at the Cave one afternoon, he almost fell off his motorcycle at the bright, cackling laugh that echoed across the stone once he cut his engine. It was boyish, childish, happy – all the things Robin should be. For a moment, it made old bitterness crawl up the back of his throat like bile, but he just as quickly swallowed it back down. He’d already taken out enough on the kid.

The laughter grew louder as he climbed the stairs up to the Batcave’s main platform, growing squeakier or snortier or gigglier in various intervals. By the time he made it up the stairs, Jason had a pretty good idea of what was happening. Turning away from the Batcomputer and towards the training mats easily confirmed it.

Because there was the Boy Wonder, in all his red-faced glory, cackling up a storm as Dick tickled the absolute shit out of him. 

At least Dick had someone besides Jason to take all that tickle-monster energy out on, now.

Dick’s head shot up as Jason’s boot scuffed across the stone, and he shot Jason a grin. “Hey, Little Wing!” Tim’s laughter lightened, growing more giggly. Probably Dick lightening up his attack in case he wanted to participate in the conversation. “What brings you here?”

“Came by to hack into the computer.” Jason jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “Got some CCTV to look into, and the setup is better here than in any of my safehouses.”

Dick nodded, and Tim’s laughter jumped in pitch again.

“Jesus,” Jason said. “You trying to kill the kid?”

Dick laughed himself and finally let up, leaving Tim to roll onto his side and catch his breath. 

“Nah – but I think I might’ve finally found someone more ticklish than you, Jay.” He gave Jason a meaningful look, winking when he was sure Tim wasn’t looking.

Jason scoffed. He would not be filing that information away for later, thank you very much, because Tim was not his baby brother. “Yeah, whatever. I grew out of that – Lazarus Pits and all.”

Dick narrowed his eyes, a disarming smile on his lips. “Oh, really? That’s too bad. I’m sure you wouldn’t mind, then, if I–”

Jason swiftly backed away from the mats. “Yeah, no. I’m busy – came here to work and all. Try to keep it down, will you?” He managed to catch Tim’s eye for a second. “Try his thighs,” he advised. “Or just under his ribs. Makes for great revenge.”

“Wha– Jason!”

Jason turned his back on them, not wanting to unpack the narrow-eyed look Tim gave him. Not even moments later he heard Dick yelp.

“Oh, no you don’t – you’ll regret that!”

And the Cave was quickly filled with laughter once more, two sets of it this time. Not exactly the quiet environment Jason had hoped for when he came by to work, but he would deal. The Batcomputer had high-quality headphones for a reason.

And, privately, Jason thought those two could use more opportunities to smile.

*     *     *

Over time, the uneasy truce settled into something more comfortable. There were times it still chafed, itching at Jason’s skin until he felt he needed to claw it off, but things were rarely so tense anymore that Jason expected to be cut off like a necrotic limb. Hood still handled Crime Alley, the Bats tackled the rest of Gotham, and sometimes, if the cards fell right, they were able to work cases together without any casualties.

Cases like this new up-and-coming gang. They’d spread outside of the Alley, maneuvering in areas where Hood didn’t have as much reach or authority, but they were still spreading through his own territory like slow-acting poison. There was only so much he could do, and so when Dick offered the Bats up to help, Jason agreed with only minimal bitching. 

Which led him to this warehouse rooftop, going on three hours crouched uncomfortably next to Robin, the irritation of a failed stakeout grating against his ribs and skull. The established gang these newbies were trying to ally with hadn’t even shown, and even the newbies were starting to pack up shop, wanting to get back to base before dawn broke. The newest little Robin, however, didn’t seem to be getting the memo that this was a bust.

“Kid,” Hood all but growled. “Let’s go, there’s nothing more for us here.”

Robin scoffed, still laying on his stomach and not bothering to drop the binoculars to have a conversation with Hood. “Something might still happen. I’m not going to drop this just because you’re getting impatient.”

A flash of irritation bubbled up in Hood’s chest, frustration coiling hot in his stomach. The gang was leaving, Hood was starving, his knees ached from crouching on this roof all night, and he really should’ve told Dick no when Robin was offered up to help with the stakeout. But of course, the Bat himself was too busy with some last-minute JL business, and Nightwing had his own problems in Bludhaven to deal with. The worst part was that Robin was right, something could still happen, but Hood sincerely doubted it. They hadn’t gotten any new or relevant info in the past two hours, and Hood was ready to stuff his face with some greasy fast food and pass out for the next six hours.

And so as the newbies finished loading up their vehicles and driving off, Hood reached over to snatch the binoculars from Robin. Somehow, even with his face buried behind the plastic, he knew Hood was coming and shifted out of the way, thrusting a foot into Hood’s chest to try and hold him back. Hood’s height was an advantage here, but Robin still refused to let go of the binoculars, staring after the newbies’ vehicles as if they held the answers to the universe. 

And Hood, overtired and ready to be out of all this goddamned armor and in bed, let his instincts take over again. He jabbed one hand up under Robin’s arm, poking and prodding at the softer spot in the armor designed for mobility. Robin made an awkward squawking sound, his arm shooting down to protect the vulnerable spot and cutting the grip he had on the binoculars by half. Hood easily wrenched them from his hand after that, tucking them into an inner pocket in his leather jacket.

“Come on,” Hood said, standing and brushing himself off like nothing happened. “Batburger, I’m buying.”

Robin scowled at him, eyes unreadable behind the white-out lenses of the domino, and slowly rose to his feet. “Fine. But I want Jokerized fries, and I don’t care how you feel about it.”

*     *     *

Jason had to wonder if the kid ever slept. Every time he came by the Cave, Tim was there too – training, running samples, working cases on the Batcomputer – no matter what absurd hour he arrived. Jason let out a loud, long, obnoxious sigh as he cleared the stairs to the main platform of the Batcave, and Tim immediately whipped around and glared at him over the back of the desk chair.

“Can I help you?” Tim snapped.

“I need the computer.” Jason kicked the base of the desk chair as he approached, propelling it several inches to the left. 

Tim’s scowl deepened, and he rolled the chair back into position. “Well you can wait. I’m busy with a case.”

Instead of arguing further, Jason opted for the quickest route of success. He grabbed the back of the desk chair, spun it around so Tim was no longer facing the desk, and unceremoniously dumped him out of the seat. Tim squawked as he stumbled out of the chair, but regained his footing quickly and immediately trying to bolt back into the seat. Jason smirked and yanked it away, sending it rolling a few feet behind him.

“Whoops.”

Tim pursed his lips. “Real mature.”

Jason laid a hand over his heart and cocked his head to the side. “Ouch. You wound me. Truly.”

Tim glared at him, but his eyes flicked towards the desk chair behind Jason. They burst into motion at the same time – Tim lunging towards the chair, and Jason lunging towards Tim. After a brief tussle, Jason yanked Tim into a headlock, and for a brief second the two of them went eerily still. Jason loosened his grip, making the hold easy to break, but didn’t let go. Tim stayed frozen for a moment longer before tilting his head up, giving Jason a challenging look.

Jason’s mind warred with itself for a few moments. Not my little brother, one side of his brain said. Isn’t he, though? another replied. He had, unfortunately, filed away that information Dick had given him, as much as he tried to ignore it. And, well, it wouldn’t be the first time, would it? He didn’t think he’d even given Tim back his Bat-noculars.

A moment passed, and Jason suddenly lunged, latching his free hand onto Tim’s side and squeezing away. Tim jerked in his grip, squealing as a smile forced its way onto his face. One hand went towards prying Jason’s off his side, while the other came and clutched at the forearm around his throat for stability. Jason grinned and allowed the hand to crawl up Tim’s side, carefully keeping his headlock loose so that Tim wouldn’t really feel trapped. The second Jason’s fingers touched his ribs and a real laugh jumped out from Tim’s throat, he was out of Jason’s grip in seconds. Tim stood across from him, giving him another one of those uncomfortably calculating looks, though the blush rushing to his cheeks diminished it slightly.

“Fine,” Tim said eventually. “I should head up and get a snack anyways.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. 

“But I’m coming back down in two hours, and I will be getting back to my case. Whether you’re done on the computer or not.”

Jason snorted. “Yeah, sure thing, Timberly. Whatever you say.”

*     *     *

Jason was at the Manor for family dinner.

His skin itched at the thought as he sped into the Cave on his motorcycle – he never entered through the Manor proper, not in all these months, something about that just made it too real, too raw – and threw his riding gear off. Bruce was going to be there – not Batman, Bruce, and he hadn’t really interacted with the man outside the mask since he came back – but so were Dick and Alfred. And so was Tim.

Bit by bit, the kid had been relaxing around him. They worked cases together (and with Nightwing) when Hood needed a Bat, or when the birds needed his help instead. He didn’t tense whenever Jason came through the Cave anymore, didn’t eye Jason with suspicion when they crossed paths on patrol. He still stared a lot, but it’s not like Jason could blame him. He had attacked the kid, and even if he didn’t leave him with more than a concussion and some bruises (and Jason with a grudging sense of respect for the brat, as he walked away with his own array of bruising and a busted nose), the kid was well within his rights to keep his eyes on Jason’s movements.

But still, the progress they had made was, well, nice.

Speak of the devil — the Cave wasn’t empty. Tim was in the training area, dressed in basketball shorts and a t-shirt, running his bo staff drills with a single-minded focus that could rival even Bruce. Jason almost would’ve thought that Tim didn’t realize he was there, but Tim’s eyes flicked his direction as he approached the edge of the training mats. Tim ran through the move he was doing a few more times, making minute posture changes each time until his form was perfect, before dropping out of his stance and facing Jason.

“Not bad,” Jason said.

Tim ticked up an eyebrow. “Thanks.” His gaze trailed over to the stairs. “Alfred’s still making dinner, and Bruce is up there brooding and fussing over everything until it’s perfect. You probably wanna stay down here until the food’s ready.”

The skin around Jason’s eyes tightened as he suppressed a wince. “Yeah, thanks. Where’s Golden Boy?”

The corner of Tim’s mouth twitched up. “He got saddled with ‘distract Bruce’ duty.”

Jason matched Tim’s half-smile. They lapsed into an awkward silence. Jason shoved his hands in his pockets to resist the urge to fidget. Tim stared.

“Let’s spar,” Tim said suddenly, turning on his heel to set aside his bo staff.

Jason stared at him, incredulous. “What?”

“Spar. You and me.”

“Are you sure about that, kid?”

Tim shot him one of those calculating looks over his shoulder. “Do you have anything better to do?”

Jason pursed his lips. “No.”

“Then let’s spar.”

Palms sweating, Jason kicked off his boots, shucked his leather jacket, and set aside the weapons he’d hidden on his person. He set himself up opposite of Tim, lowering his body into a fighting stance.

“Ready?” Tim asked.

“Yup.”

The word was barely out of Jason’s mouth before Tim lunged, immediately going in for a grapple. Jason almost laughed — he far outclassed the little Robin in both weight and strength — and quickly sent the kid sprawling to the mats before backing away. Tim was scowling when he stood up.

“Don’t go easy on me.”

“Don’t worry, Boy Wonder. I’m just getting warmed up.”

Tim lunged first again, feinting left before trying to circle around to Jason’s back on the right. Jason whipped around and blocked the incoming blows, jabs that would’ve left his arms numb and tingling for hours had they landed. On one block, he snagged Tim’s wrist and used it to twirl him halfway around. He shoved Tim forward, harder than he meant to, and let him stumble a few feet as he retreated again.

The spar went on like this for a while, Tim attacking and Jason blocking and retreating. Tim’s scowl got deeper and deeper, and the careful control he usually held in his movements started slipping more and more. After the tenth time Jason knocked Tim’s attack away and retreated, Tim finally snapped.

“Stop babying me! I can take it!”

“Tim—“

“No.” Tim fell back into a ready stance, face red and splotchy from frustration and exertion. “I know what it looks like when you’re fighting for real. So fight me.”

Jason pressed his lips into a thin line. “Fine.”

Jason rushed first this time, and Tim met him in the middle. They exchanged a series of blows (though Jason pulled his punches — this was a spar not a brawl, and he kinda thought Tim had enough of Jason punching his lights out by now), and Tim held his own well. He’d gotten some good hits in during their confrontation at Titan’s Tower, but it was clear he had improved since losing to Jason back then. If Tim had been in a better state, he might’ve been able to hold out against Jason’s onslaught for a while.

As it was, Tim had clearly been training for a while before Jason had come in and had already been fatigued, and his lingering frustration from Jason’s kid-gloves was obviously making him sloppy. With Jason’s bulk and sheer strength, he had Tim pinned to the ground in minutes. Tim grunted and growled and struggled under him, trying to free himself, but Jason had both his arms pinned above his head and had settled his bulk over Tim’s thighs so he couldn’t flip their positions or kick Jason off.

“Satisfied?” Jason asked dryly.

Tim didn’t reply, twisting his wrists to test Jason’s grip.

“Ready to hit the showers? Alfred probably won’t be happy if we come to dinner all drenched in sweat.”

Tim twisted his hips, trying to throw Jason off but unable to get the leverage to move his considerable weight. “No, fuck you.”

Jason’s eyebrows shot up. “Damn, Timber, you kiss Alfred with that mouth?”

Tim paid him no mind, continuing to hiss and spit under him. Honestly, it reminded Jason a lot of when he was Robin. Whenever Dick beat him in a spar, he would hiss and spit and carry on, trying to break the hold until Dick got sick of his whining and—

Ah. So that was why Dick had been tickling the kid to tears the other month. 

Jason gave Tim a considering look. For a moment, he wondered if he really had the right. Tim wasn’t his little brother, not really. Just because they got taken in by the same rich asshole did not mean they were related. He’d been telling himself so for months, even if there were moments of doubt. But, well, wasn’t Tim his little brother? They snarked and tussled over the computer and helped each other on cases, and Jason was here to eat family dinner with him for God’s sake.

And hey, maybe getting tickled to tears on the training mats by your asshole predecessor would become a Robin right-of-passage.

Amidst Tim’s struggling, Jason managed to wrangle both his wrists into one hand and pin them firmly above his head. Then, making sure Tim was watching, he hovered a hand over Tim’s stomach and slowly started wiggling his fingers.

Tim gasped and froze. Then, just as quickly, his struggles started up again with a new desperation.

“You wouldn’t.”

Jason grinned, lowering his wiggling fingers another inch. “Say uncle, Timmy.”

Tim narrowed his eyes, dragging his eyes away from the ticklish threat to meet Jason’s own. “Do your worst.”

Tim’s mouth clamped shut tight just as Jason’s lowered his hand and touched down on Tim’s stomach. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and squirmed, going pink in the face as he tried not to laugh.

Jason laughed for him. “Come on, TimTam, we both know you’re ticklish as shit. No point in not laughing.”

Tim shook his head, trying unsuccessfully to worm away to the left as Jason’s hand traveled to his right side.

“No, it doesn’t tickle? Are you sure?”

Even though his eyes were still closed, Tim turned his face away from Jason, trying to hide behind one of his biceps. Jason grinned wider and jumped his hand over to Tim’s other side, delivering a series of nibbling pinches without warning. Tim squeaked, like the little baby bird he was, and jolted to the right to try and get away.

“I dunno, Baby Bird. Seems like it might tickle.”

Tim made a growling noise in the back of his throat, and Jason couldn’t help but laugh again.

“No? Maybe we should make sure all your nerves are working right, then.”

Tim’s eyes snapped open at that, glassy and watery from the effort of holding back his laughter. Jason made sure to grin at him, smug and toothy and all evil-big-brother, just like Dick used to do to him.

“Tell me, can you feel this?”

His hand shot up and skittered calloused fingertips and blunt fingernails against the exposed side of Tim’s neck. Tim’s head snapped to that side with a muffled squeal, his smile fighting to become open-mouthed and toothy, forcing Tim to bite down on his lip to keep his reactions at bay.

“Hmm, seems promising. How ‘bout here, can you feel that?”

Jason shot back down and vibrated his hand into the center of Tim’s belly. Tim tried to jackknife to protect himself, but with his wrists firmly pinned and Jason’s considerable weight on his thighs, he was forced to stay flat against the mats. He chose to toss his head back against the mats instead, shaking it back and forth furiously.

“No?” Jason asked, voice dripping with faux-concern. “You can’t feel it?”

Tim let an annoyed little groan, but quickly cut it off as it started to take on a giggly tone. Jason was being deliberately unhelpful in the matter, poking his index finger into various spots of Tim’s stomach and vibrating it.

“Right here, can you feel this? What about over here? And here? Come on Timbit, work with me here.”

Tim flinched and twitched at every prod, trembling with suppressed giggles. Jason’s own cheeks hurt from smiling — he could definitely see why Dick tickled the snot out of him so often when he was a kid. This was adorable and hilarious. But he still had yet to make the kid break, which was kinda annoying. Like, hello, how was Jason supposed to tickle the snot out of him if he wouldn’t even laugh? Jason paused for a moment, letting Tim catch his breath as he planned his next attack. Now where was it that made Tim shoot out of his arms the other week…

Oh, that’s right.

Jason put on a mournful look, shaking his head. “Starting to get real concerned here, Timbourine. Maybe we oughtta do a full injury check.” Jason rested his fingers on Tim’s lower ribs. “What do you say?”

Tim gasped, shuffling as far away from Jason’s hand as he could, but Jason followed the movement easily.

“Jason—“ Tim started, but cut himself off, pressing his lips together again.

“What is it you said to me, again? Do my worst, was that it?”

“Jason, I’ll— I’ll buffer Bruce for you tonight. I’ll take on your caseload. I’ll clean your motorcycle, I—“

“As tempting as that all sounds,” Jason had to raise his voice to be heard over Tim’s rambling. “You know what I wanna hear. Admit you lost.” 

Tim’s mouth clamped shut. Of course. How could the latest model not come with that patented stubborn Robin pride?

Jason shrugged, tapping his fingers threateningly against Tim’s ribs, making him squirm. “Suit yourself.”

Jason wasn’t the greatest at picking apart Tim’s expressions, but he’d say the smile forcing its way across Tim’s face was almost giddy.

He started off with a typical injury-check touch, a light press and slide against the individual ribs, just to really play into the game he had set up. Tim’s face scrunched up instantly, obviously trying to hold back his reactions, and his body started squirming with a new fervor. 

“Nerves working here, Timmers?” Jason tickled his middle ribs a bit more deliberately, making Tim’s face spasm. “Seems to me like you might be feeling something. Does it tickle?”

Tim shook his head. Jason sighed.

“You leave me no choice.”

Jason released Tim’s wrists and latched onto either side of his ribs with both hands, tickling mercilessly. Tim’s eyes bugged out of his head as he let out a laugh bordering on a scream. His legs scrambled on the mats behind Jason, searching for leverage or freedom. As Tim’s laughter fell into desperate cackles, Jason couldn’t help but laugh along with him.

“Jason! Jay!”

“You know how to make it stop, Timmy.”

Even with his hands free, Jason was discovering that Tim was absolutely useless when he was tickled. Jason attacked lower on his ribcage and Tim’s hands latched onto Jason’s wrists in a feeble, laughter-weakened attempt to pry him off. That only opened up the rest of his ribcage and armpits to attack, which Jason took great advantage of. Tim’s laughter would get more panicky, more shrill, the higher Jason went, but his brain didn’t seem to know how to defend itself — seeing as his hands stayed latched onto Jason’s to try and pull him off.

“Jesus Christ, Baby Bird — how do you even live when you’re this ticklish?”

“Asshole!”

Jason raised an eyebrow, though he wasn’t sure Tim could see it through his squinted, teary eyes. “Be nice. I could make this so much worse.”

“No, no!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Of course, Jason still made it worse anyway. There was a particular spot towards the back of Tim’s ribs, right between the top two on either side, that sent Tim spasming like he’d been electrocuted. Jason laughed as he prodded at the weak points one at a time, watching Tim toss himself in the opposite direction of the ticklish jolts. Finally, he gave Tim a breather, resting his fingers against those spots on his ribs just to keep him giggly and twitchy.

“Last chance for mercy,” Jason said, just barely twitching his fingers to watch Tim jump. “Alfred’ll send someone down soon.”

Tim’s teary eyes went wide. “Wait, Jason, come on–”

“Damn stubborn little Robin.”

Jason dug his fingers in, torturing those little tickle spots as best he could.

“Fuck!” Tim practically screamed before breaking into laughter that would give even the Joker a run for his money. Surprisingly, the hysterical tone of it didn’t even make Jason’s skin crawl. “Uncle!” Tim cried out, and his laughter went silent.

Jason eased up, redirecting his attack lower on Tim’s ribs, though still vibrating his fingers into the nerves mercilessly. “Hm? What was that?”

“You win! Uncle, you win! Jason, come on!”

With a chuckle, Jason heaved himself off of Tim to sit on the mats next to him, ruffling his hair as he caught his breath.

“Fuck you,” Tim said, closing his eyes and relaxing bonelessly into the mats.

“Hey.” Jason raised his hands in surrender. “You could’ve stopped that at any time. Not my fault you’re a stubborn little bitch.”

“I’ll get you for this.”

Jason raised an eyebrow. “I’ve got, like, a hundred pounds on you and I’m twice your height. How do you think you’re accomplishing that, shrimp?”

Tim peeled one eye open to glare at him. “I’ve got Dick.”

Jason froze. Oh, shit.

“That he does,” a cheerful voice chimed in from the direction of the stairs. Dick strode towards them, a slightly feral smile on his face. “And I would be more than happy to help. We never did test your claim about the Lazarus Pit taking away your ticklishness.”

Oh, fuck, actually. Maybe he shouldn’t have told Tim about Dick’s thighs that one time.

Dick’s smile shifted from feral to innocent in the blink of an eye. “But maybe later. Alfred sent me to get you for dinner – and I know he wouldn’t appreciate your B.O. stinking up the dinner table. Hit the showers.”

Jason groaned as he got up, pretending to crack his back even though he wasn’t the slightest bit sore from their sparring or impromptu tickle attack. Then, he reached down and hauled Tim to his feet, shoving him in the direction of the Cave’s locker room ahead of himself. Just as he went to follow, a hand on his shoulder stopped him.

“Good job, big brother,” Dick said, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t travel through the echoing cave. He gave Jason’s shoulder a squeeze.

Jason looked away and scoffed. “Yeah, whatever. Little shit was asking for it.”

Dick laughed and dropped his hand, shoving Jason toward the locker room much like Jason had shoved Tim. He tried not to think about it too hard, instead focusing on how carefully he’d have to watch his back in the future.

No way he was letting Timmy and Dickhead take him down without a fight.

[dontcallthedoctor]

Skittles Goes to the Amazing Digital Circus! Announcement (+ Auditions and Casting Call)

Hiya, fellas! I've got a very special and important announcement to drop out of the blue today. For the past couple months, I've been hard at work starting up pre-production on an Amazing Digital Circus fan film!!!

Skittles Goes to the Amazing Digital Circus! is a passion project I've been slowly developing with some close friends of mine, including @mikiib, @cluelesscleo, @jeggyweggy, @tomatertate, @endomentendo, @apatchydragon, @pizzycrisisline, @sillycringychaoskitty and MANY, MANY more! You all are some of the funniest, sweetest, most talented people I've ever known and I love you all so much. I am so honored and thankful to be able to call you all friends <3

Skittles Goes to the Amazing Digital Circus is, in it's current state, intended to be a feature length animatic. It acts as both a continuation of Digital Circus' story, and as unofficial backdoor pilot to the Skittles universe. I originally envisioned it as being fully animated, but of course if we took that route, we'd end up working on this twice as long as we need to. The compromise is that it'll be made as a (hopefully) colored animatic (just the key frames with limited animation), fully voiced and scored.

(Note: It'd be a good idea to look at my previous post where I discuss the character Skittles in-depth, otherwise some aspects of this story might not make sense!)

Premise:

The story (so far) follows Skittles, a pre-teen axolotl boy who, while browsing Gbay, finds a listing for a blank disc with the words "TADC (NOT FOR DISTRIBUTION) scrawled on it in red, blue, and yellow marker. After checking the description, he realizes that it's a recovered copy of the game The Amazing Digital Circus, described as "an experimental early/mid-ninties game of mysterious origin and design". Skittles likes the sound of it and buys it. After some initial trouble with the installation process, Skittles is sent an email from a mysterious sender who claims to be someone trapped inside the game. They plead with him NOT TO PLAY THE GAME, but to look into it and figure out a way to free them from the outside.

So Skittles does what any of us would do. He plays the game after this obviously-disheveled stranger pleads with him NOT to. Of course, this leads to him being sucked straight through his monitor into The Amazing Digital Circus! Once inside, he meets the circus gang and is given his orientation by Caine.

As the humans get to know Skittles, they begin to notice a few strange things about him. For starters, unlike them, he (apparently) looks the same here as he did before he dropped in. He also remembers his name and retains most of his memories from the outside world. It isn't until the next morning, when Caine awakes without his powers, that things get really odd.

Evidentially, sometime in the night, some fluke in the game's code causes Skittles to be bumped up in the digital hierarchy, giving him all of Caine's powers, effectively making him the ringmaster by default! Caine becomes disheartened, feeling this is some divine punishment for his shortcomings as ringmaster and his constant inability to please his guests. Feeling unwanted and useless, Caine leaves behind his hat and cane and exiles himself from the circus, travelling far off into the Void where he can't cause anybody and harm.

Meanwhile, the bewildered circus gang are left to deal with the newly appointed Ringmaster Skittles, who makes it clear that he has no idea what he's doing. Despite his newfound powers, he's still just a kid and proves to be utterly incompetent at running the circus. Not only is his young brain not mentally ready for the responsibility, but the "ringmaster protocol" gradually starts to take over his mind, making him just as bonkers as Caine was if not worse. With the fate of the circus hanging in the balance, it's up to the circus crew, realizing how much they truly need Caine, to bring him back and restore order... or the Digital Circus may never be the same...

Originally, this started off as more of a "what-if" scenario with no real story behind it, but the more I mulled over it with friends, the more we realized this could actually make for a really cool story. Once it was decided that Skittles should take over the circus and become the ringmaster, the rest of the premise fell into place. Granted, the story isn't completely plotted out yet, but the beats are all there. In the end, Skittles helps the circus gang to further appreciate one another, but most importantly, to appreciate the asset they have in Caine. For his part, Caine learns how to listen better, to relate, and also how he can make life in the circus better for everyone, hopefully without compromising his vision or ideas.

Currently we're looking for artists (concept/storyboardists, line artists, background artists mainly) voice actors (for Ragatha, Jax, Kinger, Caine and Bubble) a couple writers and composers. Production isn't super far along in terms of content, but I'll post a handful of sketches and concepts that everyone's drawn up!

If anyone is interested and would like to take part, feel free to DM me, either here on Tumblr or at my Discord (anunmadebed)! I'm really looking forward to working with ppl and hearing what y'all think Abt this! Words cannot describe how damn EXCITED I am I'm stimming so hard rnnn

(So sorry if that seemed like a mess, I get really nervous talking about things I'm passionate about in public ^^)

[marsattaxk]

「Swan Song」 / KATSUKI BAKUGO

── .✦ ENCOUNTER. 1 The only thing I got were wounds

SYNOPSIS: KATSUKI BAKUGO has gotten used to the monotonous routine of his physical and quirk therapy. Going over the same sign-in chart, same exercises to bring back feeling in his arm, and slowly introducing his quirk back. That all changed when one day, during one of his usual session times a teen around his age showed up. Wearing two ankle braces. 

MY HERO ACADEMIA  ✦  KATSUKI BAKUGO × BALLERINA!GN!READER  ✦ ©marsattaxk 2024

NOTE + WARNINGS: Reader will and is a ballerina in the story and will be described as tall no other reference to their appearance, reader has a quirk called Swan Song, due to their quirk reader is very emotionally unstable after their quirk is used (be used in later chapters), reader is also a Shiketsu student, poor description of physical therapy, katsuki is curious and intrigued as hell by reader, poor description of ballet (I haven't done it in YEARS), description of injuries, teenagers being teens so swearing (we'll get to dialogue eventually just let me cook)

WORD COUNT: 4.6k

KATSUKI BAKUGO HAD ALWAYS BEEN ONE FOR ROUTINES. His daily life, ever since middle school consisted of one: waking up early, going for a morning run, having breakfast, going to school, homework, study, more training, dinner, shower, and go to bed at the latest of 9pm. A cut and dry routine that he, himself, had created. He was a creature of habit and never liked change. That of course changed when he entered U.A.

His life, the one he knew, changed when his childhood best friend suddenly and out of nowhere got a quirk. His quirkless childhood best friend had a strong quirk and was improving fast. Way too fast for his liking. The ideal life and routine he had in his head changed to now include his goal of surpassing and still being better than IZUKU. And his immense growth his first year at U.A was proof of that. 

His loud, explosive, and angry personality had consistently mild down throughout the year and the events that he and his classmates were and had experienced. Of course it is no secret that a war would change a person fundamentally, especially him considering he had died for a moment of time during it. Thankfully, he was able to be brought back and see the end of it, marking the end to one of Japan’s darkest times and even witnessing his childhood best friend become the greatest hero of all time. Finally allowing for the reform their hero society needed to begin. 

However, surviving a war didn’t mean he got out scot-free. Katsuki was left with some gnarly scars and a heart that had to be monitored, reminders of what he went through. But those were the last of his worries when it came to his dream and goals of becoming the best hero of all time. His worries came with his arm. During the war his arm had received a lot of damage, profusely messing it up. He could no longer fully move his hand, and his quirk, which relied on his sweat, was practically unusable in its current state. After waking up in the hospital, getting time to get used to being awake he was told that he had two options. 

One: get his arm amputated and get a prosthetic, or two: go the long route and go through physical and quirk therapy. 

Katsuki knew one thing at that moment and that was if he wanted to even fully use his quirk and achieve his dream, he’d have to have both his arms. So his choice was pretty clear, he was going to go through the long process of physical and quirk therapy. He not only had the support of his parents but of his friends as well, so the road ahead didn’t seem too rough to him. 

With the defeat of Shigaraki and All for One, society was slowly but surely starting to recover which meant that physical therapy clinics were finally and fully opening back up. Plus with most school’s needing to be rebuilt or fixed, summer came early for students all around the country. And so Katsuki’s routine changed once again for the third time. His training had now been replaced with physical and quirk therapy at 5pm every Monday, Wednesday and Friday. 

From the moment he got discharged from the hospital, he was immediately required to go to his first session on a Wednesday. And just like that Katsuki had a new routine. Being a month into rehab, Katsuki had gotten used to the monotonous routine of his physical and quirk therapy. Going over the same sign-in chart, same exercises to bring back feeling in his arm, and slowly introducing his quirk back. That all changed one random Wednesday when he showed up. 

Katsuki always liked showing up a little bit earlier than his scheduled time, just so that he could get the sign-in chart quickly over with and not have it take up time from his appointment. He, like usual, had been dropped off by his mother at the clinic, her promising she’d be back in an hour, with him responding in a disinterested tone that he knew and understood. He’d then watch her drive away, a byproduct of his senses always on edge, before finally walking into the building. He expected it to be empty as it had always been but to his surprise there was someone there before him. 

The person that from what he could see was around his age. They sat there with their head low, the cap on their head covering most of their face except for their lips and chin. The cap wasn’t what caught Katsuki’s attention as he went and sat down in one of the uncomfortable chairs in the waiting area. What caught his attention was the two ankle braces they were wearing on each ankle. The sight genuinely intrigued him, making questions fill his head. Why two braces? How did they injure themselves? Did they hurt one ankle first and then the other? Or did they hurt the two at the same time? Were some of the few that filled his head. 

The waiting room was mostly silent, with the only noise being the typing of the receptionist and the low humming noise of the A.C unit. Katsuki had genuinely expected the teen to at least maybe look in his direction and acknowledge him or even attempt to make conversation. But no, all he got was silence on their end. The silence didn’t help his curiosity at all, with him taking peeks at them as they both sat in the waiting area. 

Every time he’d expect them to at least have slightly moved, but no, they continued to sit in the same position he had seen them since he had entered. Their elbows resting on the arm rests, their head hanging low, body slightly slouched as if they were ashamed, and their feet firmly planted against the floor. And god, those damn ankle braces didn’t help in want of knowing what happened. But Katsuki was never one to initiate a conversation, and if the teen didn’t want to say anything then he wouldn’t either. 

It genuinely felt like an eternity in the waiting room, with the silence so deafening that Katsuki began to contemplate if he should speak up just to get rid of it. But before he could decide whether or not he should, his name got called out making him turn his head in the direction. It was time for him to start the usual routine he mentally created for himself. As he stood up and made his way over to the nurse that had called out to him, Katsuki glanced one final time at the teen, before heading to the back to get started. 

Katuski believed that when he’d get out of his session the teen would be gone but to much of his surprise, they were still there. He guessed that their session ended before his since they were at the receptionist desk setting up their next appointment for Wednesday at the same time as he would be right after they left. From where he stood he could catch a glimpse of their face, seeing their clearly tired eyes, and the frown on their face. He could tell that they didn’t want to be there, and that just added more fuel to the fire, wondering what happened to them for them to land here, just like him.

Their frown wasn’t just the only thing that intrigued Katsuki, but their height as well. Katsuki was tall, clearly. He stood, proudly, at five’ eight and used his height as an advantage over villains. But from what he could see this teen a few feet away from him was taller than him, only by a few inches. They towered over the receptionist, with her having to crane her neck to look up. Normally something about that would infuriate him but with them it was different. Their height added to the curiosity that he held for them and maybe even some attraction, but Katsuki would never admit that. 

He watched them only nod in response to the woman's words, giving her one last nod before walking and out of the clinic, clearly they wanted to get the hell out. And honestly Katsuki didn’t blame them for it, he also just wanted to be done with his therapy sessions and go back to his regular life, going back to doing hero work. Standing there he listens to the receptionist talk about his next appointment and the upcoming ones he had next, watching as their silhouette walked away from the building and got into a car. 

✦ 

[Y/N] HAD ALWAYS HAD ONE DREAM SINCE THEY WERE A CHILD. From the moment they had seen them gracefully glide across their screen, twirling, dipping, and jumping, they knew that was what they wanted to do. Seeing a Prima Ballerina perform Tchaikovsky Swan Lake, they knew they wanted to be the white swan. They knew they needed to be a ballerina. 

They still remembered going up to their mother and telling her how they wanted to do ballet, how it didn’t matter to them if they got a quirk or not, they just wanted to perform Swan Lake. They remember the begging they did, trying to convince their pro-hero parents to allow them to do ballet, begging to break the family tradition of being heroes. They knew how important it was for their parents for them to follow in the tradition, it was the legacy their great grand-parents had started. But, even as a small child they knew that wasn’t what they wanted and what they did they saw dancing on their screen.

Their mother was more skeptical, not seeing the appeal of it, that maybe there was another activity that they could do related to hero work. Their father was the one who fully listened to them. Maybe it was because this was his only child wanting to do something they wanted, or maybe it was because that spark they had for the dance was the same spark he had when seeing his father be a hero. He made them make him a promise. He made them promise that if they ever stopped or showed disinterest in the dance style, they would start hero training. 

And ever since that day, they have never broken their promise. Everyday from that day forward they spent their life going to dance classes, practices, going to rehearsals, performances, doing pointe shoe fittings and getting lead roles in productions. Even when their quirk came in, aptly named ‘Swan Song’ they continued to dance no matter what. Their entire elementary and middle school years were spent perfecting their craft, hoping and dreaming that in a couple years their dreams of becoming a Prima Ballerina would become true. And it was during the 8th grade, that it finally happened. 

That lifelong dream came in the form of a letter from the official National Ballet of Japan, with them offering them the position of their brand new prima ballerina. To say that [Y/N] was excited would be an understatement. They were ecstatic over the fact that they would be finally able to fulfill their childhood and lifelong dream. Of course their dream opportunity came with an exception, that being that they would have to move to Japan and attend one of the country's prestigious high schools. 

[Y/N] was used to going overseas and going to performances all over the country, but moving to a completely different country by themselves? Without their parent’s? Now that was a whole new experience. The thought of being thousands of miles away from their parent’s, their family was daunting, scary. This was their dream, their once in a lifetime opportunity, but doing it without their parent’s? That was something they weren’t prepared for. Talking and telling their parents about this life changing opportunity was one of the hardest things they had to do.

They remember their mom telling them another opportunity like that could at some point present itself again, that they didn’t have to commit to this in a completely different country, that they should stick with their current dance company. Their dad on their other hand had only one question for them. ‘Have you fallen out of love with the dance?’ The moment that question left his mouth, [Y/N] knew what they had to do. And that was mailing their acceptance of the offer back to The National Ballet of Japan and looking into what school they would go to. 

After hours of research, enrolling, transferring their grades and transcript, packing, mailing their stuff over to their new school dorm rooms, heading over to Japan, [Y/N] was finally able to step foot into their room in Shiketsu’s dorms. With their overseas move, The National Ballet of Japan welcomed their new and first foreign Prima Ballerina. But, as things would have it, their first year at Shiketsu and as Prima Ballerina did not go as planned. Every student in Japan's lives were put on hold right after the Paranormal Liberation War and with the fight to stop Shigaraki. While [Y/N] had good control over their quirk, they didn’t play a role in fighting in the war, they mostly helped in the sheltering of civilians. 

With the war over and life slowly but surely beginning to go to a sense of normalcy, [Y/N] was finally able to go back to what they loved doing the most, ballet. As much as [Y/N] had become accustomed to the constant Piles, Pirouettes, first, second, and third positions, it was hard for them to get back into the rhythm of things. Their dance instructor never blamed them for making simple mistakes, or slightly tripping when making moves, he knew that with the war and the lack of practice their body wasn’t used to going back to the constant practice and rehearsals. 

Even if their ballet instructor wasn’t frustrated with them, [Y/N] was frustrated with themselves. This was their craft, their lifelong career and dream, the fact they couldn’t land a simple saut de chat was infuriating to them. How was it that in a couple months they were able to just forget everything they had been doing since they were four years old? When did they regress in their abilities? 

Everyday at practice and rehearsals for their company’s production of Notre-Dame de Paris, they kept pushing themselves to get back to where they were originally. It was a constant push and push and push to dance at the level they had been used to, pushing their muscles, feet, legs, and arms to keep up to remember what they knew. Of course dancing with frustration and having tightness in their muscles was never a good sign, because during one rehearsal practice they took a tumble and ended up landing weirdly on both of their ankles after a jump. 

Their instructor told them the same thing he had been telling them the past month, ‘take it easy. You are getting back into the rhythm of things. Take care of your ankles’. The same speech and lecture they had been hearing since the start of the new season. Did they listen? No, [Y/N]  was a teenager who thought they could improve by sheer force and will. And that unfortunately backfired on them greatly. On opening night of the first performance on Notre-Dame de Paris, and their first performance back on the stage, in front of their parents, during their Esmeralda variation that [Y/N] took a fall after the finishing jump, absolutely decimating their ankles. 

The ride to the hospital felt like an eternity to [Y/N], their hearing muffled as the only thing they could look at was their ankles. Bruised beyond belief, showing the damage their fall had done to them, the harm that their frustration and push to dance had caused them. They couldn’t hear the words of their mother or of the paramedics as they talked to them or around them. The only thing they could hear was the screaming thoughts in their head telling them their career was over. 

The arrival to the hospital was a blur. The morphine that the nurses had injected into them made them tired, before everything went black after having anesthesia for their urgent surgery. Due to their untreated ankle twist and the fact that they had been applying pressure on both of them, [Y/N]’s ankles were messed up beyond a point. Their ligaments and tendons had been worn down, making them require surgery to fix them. Thankfully everything went well, but that meant that [Y/N] would have to undergo physical therapy to even get their ankles back to their full health and back to what they were if they wanted to go back to dancing. 

The lecture they had gotten from their parents was justified. It was reckless of them to not take care of themselves, to allow themselves to become so frustrated they were willing to hurt themselves just to improve. But of course, they could understand the frustration. They were hero’s after all, their careers hanged on the thread of them getting better quickly. In their hospital room, [Y/N] and their parents discussed what would happen now, fully talking about itf they’d go back to dancing or if they’d finally stop. But they weren’t gonna stop, this was their dream. Plus they had a promise to uphold. 

 So they made their first appointment at the Musutafu Physical and Quirk Therapy Clinic. And all they hoped for was that they got better quickly so that they could go back to dancing. 

They arrived an hour early, due to living on the complete other side of the city, since Shiketsu was on the west side they had a long commute to even consider arriving on time. The train ride over was as peaceful as you could call a subway cart. As well as the cab over. When they arrived it was empty, allowing for the receptionist to take the time to explain the charts, documents, and sign-in sheet they had to fill out, that taking up most of their time before their appointment. 

Sitting there in one of the chairs of the waiting room was embarrassing to [Y/N]. Not because they had physical therapy but because of how they could have prevented this if they had just listened. If they had taken the time to rest their weirdly twisted ankles they would have been able to do the full Notre-Dame of Paris show and wouldn't have had to have surgery on their ankles. And so they sat there, with their head hanging low with their cap on their head, their braces on full display, they waited for their appointment time to arrive.

At some point from what they could tell someone new had arrived. They genuinely had no interest in who this person was or even if they were there to have a session like they would, all they wanted was to get it over with and get out as quickly as possible. However, maybe it was their imagination or maybe it really was happening, but as they sat there, looking down at their shoes, they could feel as if someone was glancing at them. Very continuous glances. They had no idea if it was the person who had just entered or if they were making it up. And so they ignored it, continuing to look down at their shoes.

The feeling stopped when the person who had, in fact, arrived went to what they assumed was one of the rooms to have their own session, and soon enough it was their turn as well when their name got called out. [Y/N] had no idea what to expect for their first therapy session and thankfully it was something simple to start. Just some ankle pointing, circling, and some resistance band pulls, some simple exercises to get them used to the motion of using their ankles once again. 

Their session ended early, they chalked it up to needing to start off simple so that they wouldn’t hurt themselves again. Going back to the waiting area, they stood at the reception desk, listening to the nurse at the desk explain how their session would go on from then on, and of course setting up their next appointment Wednesday at the same time. This time, however, they were able to get a glance at the person who had entered the clinic. It was a boy, clearly around their age, with blonde hair and scars. Something about him looked familiar to them, but they could figure out why. 

And so they just chalked it up to probably seeing someone similar to him somewhere and left the clinic to get to the cab waiting for them outside. Having no idea how just their presence at the therapy clinic had impacted the blonde teen. 

✦ 

TO SAY THAT KATSUKI WAS INTRIGUED WAS NOT FAR FROM THE TRUTH. Getting into his mom’s car as he answered the usual questions she asked him after his sessions all he could think about was the teen who had been there as well. Never in his life had he cared so much about someone else, excluding Izuku and All Might, that this was jarring to him. And the fact that he told his own mother about it was even more jarring. He never told the old hag anything like this before. 

To say that his mom wasn’t curious about this person who had captured her son’s attention was a blatant lie. She was intrigued and needed to know who had captured her son’s attention immediately. Katsuki being Katsuki he refused to tell his mom anything. The hag, in his opinion, didn’t need to know anything and telling her was clearly a mistake considering she couldn’t let it go the entire car ride. And couldn’t let it go the next two weeks after she picked him up from his therapy sessions. 

During the course of those two weeks and the sessions Katsuki had, his curiosity for this teen had severely increased as weeks went by. He wanted, no, he needed to know about them. He needed to know why they were even in physical therapy. To say this was just morbid curiosity would be a bold face lie. This kid had an obsession with a person he had no single piece of knowledge about. This was a complete stranger, for christ sake. How was it possible that a random teen was able to capture his intrigue more than any other person he had ever met could. 

Going to his therapy sessions had been something he had started to look forward to, honestly. And that was information no one would be able to get out of him, no matter what. His annoying friends didn’t need to know, his parents didn’t need to question him about this person, and Izuku and All Might clearly didn’t need any form of indication that he was obsessing over a total stranger. And genuinely, he knew just telling them about his ‘obsession’ would either make them make them try and help him or raise concern in their heads. And it was probably the latter. 

Every time he’d show up and he’d see them his mind would go wild. It’d go racing with thoughts and guesses on who they were, what they did to land in physical therapy, what their quirk was, were they a hero in training just like him, did they go to U.A just like him. And apparently the receptionist at the front desk had picked up on it as well, much to his chagrin. 

It was like how he had found them the first time he had seen them when his session had ended. They were at the reception desk, clearly setting up their next appointment, when the receptionist did something. And by that something, he meant, making up a made up policy that required her to look at patient’s faces to make sure it matched their ID. Telling them they had to take off their cap to be able to look. Katsuki knew that was a lie. From the moment he had started there had never been a rule or policy that enforced that at all, but he knew the receptionist was doing this for him by the way she glanced at him. 

Their response of a nonchalant, almost disinterested ‘yeah, sure’ were the first words Katsuki had heard them say in the two weeks he had seen them. He watched as they removed their cap, finally getting a good glimpse at them. Something about seeing their face that made an unknown feeling bloom in Katsuki’s chest. This unknown warmth that he had never felt before. It wasn’t the usual warmth he felt from his quirk, it was different and he couldn’t explain why it was. And so once again, he watched them walk out. 

Standing up at desk, Katsuki listened to the receptionist tell him that since they couldn’t give out any information on them, the most she could do was tell him to look up a website. That website being The National Ballet of Japan’s page. Telling him he'd get the information and answers he had been looking for by searching through it and the dancers in had under its company. 

To say that Katuski went home and didn’t look up what the receptionist had told him would be a lie. In the comfort of his room, he went onto his laptop and looked up the National Ballet of Japan. He scoured the page looking through performances, articles, awards, seasonal tickets, class registration forms, information about the company before stumbling up on the dancers. He scrolled through hundreds of dancers, all of them stemming from the past and the present until he reached a face he clearly recognized. And a face that made that warmth he had felt back at the clinic, spread through his chest once again. 

✦ 

THIS WOULD MARK THE FOURTH WEEK OF [Y/N] PHYSICAL THERAPY SESSIONS. Apparently their plea of wanting these sessions to go by quickly had been heard. Every day for the past week had become the same for them, going to therapy, doing the exercises, and going home to do them once again, all in hopes to better than ankles quicker. This appointment would mark if they would be able to start going back to practice once again. A light practice, as their instructor had told them, a small step into the swimming pool before even attempting to go back on pointe shoes. 

They had thought this session would be normal. Showing up an hour early, doing the sign-in chart and just sitting in silence as they wait for the teen boy to show up and for their appointment to start. But something in their head told them today would be different. And clearly it was. The blonde boy was there before them. Which was odd. What was even more odd was where he was sitting this time.

Usually when they sat in the waiting area, there was a space in between them, the two always leaving an empty chair. However this time, the boy was sitting in that chair. They didn’t want to seem rude and just move one seat over, then again they really didn’t care where he sat, so they just sat down, and didn’t say a word. The waiting area was quiet like it had always been but, once again, today was going to be different. 

“Hey,” a gruff, almost raspy voice called out to them, making them turn their head in the direction it came from. And for the first time since the two of them started attending physical therapy at the same time, [Y/N] AND KATSUKI MADE EYE CONTACT WITH ONE ANOTHER.

AUTHORS NOTE: hello hi! welcome to my first ever ‘x reader’ fanfic that I have fully committed to and actually have written. This is the first ever fic that I have posted to tumblr, more like the first ever piece of content I have ever posted to tumblr and I’m both nervous and cautiously excited about this. this isn’t my first rodeo posting fic's on the internet (we don’t talk about wattpad) but it is the first one I’m actually proud of since I’m no longer writing like how middle school me did back then. all I ask is that y’all don’t burn me at the stake for however long it takes me to put out chapters. I am a college student so my grades come first than this silly little fic. I hope that y’all enjoy this piece of fiction that I’ve written and I’ll be back whenever chapter two is ready. buh-bye!

P.S: it was while editing and talking to friends that I decided to make this a ‘universe’/ connected story series. whenever this series is over and fully completed (re-edited at some point because i’m never happy with end products) i’ll announce the next one. so stay tuned for that.

TAGLIST: @oddball08

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[eaxmxae]

I'm heading to my ortho appointment so here's the bats, birds and their dentist history:

Bruce didn't need twin blocks or anything for his jaw but he did have braces from the ages of like 14-17. He hated Alfred for it at the time but is currently grateful.

Dick Grayson's smile shines brighter than the combination of all the stars in the constellation of Orion. That being said I think he has a few filler teeth from acrobatic accidents from when he was still at the circus. He did also have braces but no one really remembers I don't think- we looked normal with them.

Jason is one of those lucky ass people that were born with perfect teeth. He didn't need braces, twin blocks or anything. He did get a cavity at one point and that's when Alfred began to seriously monitor his sweet intake. His room was also searched for sweets.

Tim needed the WORKS done. Tho he refuses to tell anyone- his parents had him start the process early so his image would be good by the time he's a teen. He's eternally grateful that he got them off before he went to Bruce.

Dick saw him with them but was too shocked by the child that showed up at his door telling him to be robin again.

Steph has braces and looks damn good in them. Her mouth was colourful and she loved it.

I feel like Cass is like just average teeth wise- she has like a slight overbite and slightly crooked teeth but she doesn't care and it's not obvious enough for anyone else to care.

Duke had braces, always stuck with the silver bands (same king‼️) . People think he got his teeth whitened but that's just a man that cares about his hygiene- his smile is almost on par with Dicks

Damian could go one of two ways. The funnier way is that he gets the braces with the elastics and has the worst lisp EVER. He refuses to speak for a while and trains himself in his room to speak normally in every language he knows at least conversationally. Then he starts speaking normally. Damian Wayne-Al Ghul refuses to be humiliated.

Tim collected the camera footage of him practice speaking tho.

Bruce ended up benching both of them.

_

My teeth hurt.

[sabrinajenre96]

"After the Storm"

Pairing: Conrad Hawkins x Resident!Wife!Reader

Setting: Chastain Park Memorial Hospital, during a citywide blackout and storm

Warning: mention of blood, injuries and pregnancy. Read at your own discretion

---

The rain had been coming down in sheets for hours, drumming so hard on the hospital windows it sounded like hail. The lights had flickered twice before the entire city was swallowed in a blackout. Chastain’s generators kicked in—but only partially. Triage overflowed, patients were being rerouted or stacked in hallways, and the ER was chaos.

Y/N, soaked from helping offload a patient from an ambulance just minutes before, stood near the front of the hospital helping guide patients when a loud screech pierced the storm. Headlights glared.

An ambulance barreled down the slick street, skidding—tires locked. It wasn’t stopping.

Y/N’s eyes widened. Just outside the ER entrance, a teenage girl—probably no older than 14—stood frozen in fear directly in front of the glass doors.

“Move!” Y/N shouted as she ran, instincts taking over.

The teen didn’t react fast enough.

Y/N dove.

Just as the ambulance smashed through the ER entrance, glass shattering like ice against concrete, Y/N wrapped her arms around the girl and threw them both to the ground, twisting so her own body took the brunt of the impact.

The explosion of sound and shards was deafening.

Nic and Devon, mid-patient round, turned at the crash and bolted toward the chaos.

They found Y/N lying protectively over the teen, glass sparkling around them like diamonds.

“Y/N!” Nic called, kneeling beside her.

“I’m okay,” Y/N gasped, heart racing. “She okay?”

The teenager, pale but conscious, nodded. “You’re bleeding,” she whispered, pointing to Y/N’s leg.

Devon’s eyes followed the teen’s gaze and swore under his breath. A jagged piece of glass was embedded in Y/N’s thigh.

“Don’t move,” he instructed, immediately radioing for Dr. Voss and grabbing gloves.

With Nic’s help, they carefully lifted Y/N onto a stretcher and wheeled her into one of the on-call rooms being used as overflow.

Conrad rushed in seconds later, his face tight with worry.

“What happened?” he demanded, eyes scanning for injury.

Y/N sat up, breathing heavily. “I’m okay, but please—check the teen I pulled out. Minor cuts, but she was close to the blast.”

Conrad hesitated, torn, then nodded. “Okay. I’ll be back.” He pressed a quick kiss to her temple before dashing out.

---

Hours later, the storm had passed, but the damage was done—citywide flooding, power outages, multiple trauma cases.

Y/N had been stabilized. The glass removed, wound cleaned and bandaged. She lay half-asleep on the makeshift hospital bed, utterly drained.

Conrad stepped in quietly, holding two warm coffees.

Before he could speak, Dr. Voss followed behind him, holding a clipboard with lab results.

“Just checking on our hero,” she said kindly, giving Y/N a warm smile.

Conrad’s gaze shifted. “Everything okay?”

Kit’s smile widened. “More than okay. Your blood work looked great, Y/N. But I did see something interesting in the results…”

Y/N blinked, still groggy. “What?”

“You’re pregnant.”

The room went silent.

Y/N stared. “I’m—what?”

Kit chuckled. “About six weeks along, if I had to estimate. Congratulations.”

With a wink, she left the stunned couple alone.

Conrad sat down slowly, stunned. “Pregnant. We’re… we’re having a baby.”

A breath of laughter escaped Y/N as she processed it. “We weren’t even trying…”

“I need to start saving for college,” Conrad said suddenly, sitting straighter. “And we need a nursery—crib, monitor, diapers—and we should schedule a pediatrician, and we’re going to need—”

Y/N laughed and tugged him close, pressing a kiss to his lips. “Hey, breathe. One step at a time.”

Conrad exhaled, resting his forehead against hers. “You’re right. But… we really do need to set up the nursery.”

Y/N smirked. “We were already going house hunting in a few days. Guess the timing’s kind of perfect.”

He grinned, eyes softening. “Guess the universe knew we were ready—even if we didn’t.”

---

END

[archaospetryx]

Whats Otto's purpose if they have one? Like as a toy product I mean!! (if they are one.) (Ie. Huggy: Hugs, Poppy: Treating her like a real girl, etc)

Okay so I actually have 2 other Tarantulas besides Otto bc like the Smiling Critters having the Nightmare Critters as their antithesis, the Longlegs Family have their own antithesis in the form of the Tarantulas(it would be cheesy to name them the Tormentulas tbh but idk wdyt?)) and since we’re talking abt Otto’s purpose, I’ll talk abt 2 other ocs in the making related to Otto

So there’s Otto, Octavia(Via), and Octavio(Vio)

Do forgive me for my lazy concept arts

Otto’s purpose is to be a strong and durable toy that can hold up to 10-20 books and even a whole school bag so children(or teens even and maybe adults too) can organize their stuff and have the Otto toy carry their heavy items or use him to carry or hold anything. Here’s more abt who Otto was before becoming a bigger body

His game mechanics when avoiding him would be audio and visual cues with a hint of trying to run as fast as you can IF Harley decided to light up one of the nearby monitors of the area to alert Otto. Plus he’s very strong and nearly as tall as Huggy so he will break anything just to get to you

Artwork is not finalized^^

Octavia’s purpose is to record videos and apply them to empty vhs tapes which are sold separately. The cameras are placed on both her paws which are very bendable. Her bigger body version is blind all bc of Harley and his petty rivalry/hate with Penelope Huntsman.

Her game mechanic would be to avoid getting caught by her camera or hide if you’re caught bc it takes a while for the vhs to process on her screen which act as her way to “see”(her “sight” is delayed by 5 seconds)

Oh yes btw, this is Penelope, Arthur’s step sister and she became like this bc Otto accidentally injured her that she looked “dead” but Harley “revived” her to become Octavia

Artwork is not official^^

Octavio’s purpose is to record voice tapes. Their cutout counterpart does have a mouth but Harley made sure to make the bigger body version silent because the employee(Mary Anne, an oc))inside was part of the theatre accident but her body wasn’t counted bc before the cleanup crew arrived Otto took her body to beg Harley to save them. They learned how to speak using their tape recorder and the voices of the ppl in the tape, learning from 1006/the Prototype which nearly caused them to get killed or set them free.

Their game mechanic would be audio cues bc you have to follow them or respond to them if they speak in the following voices: Cole Vaughn, Penelope Huntsman, Poppy, Dogday

You’re safe to proceed but sometimes the audios will be jumbled so listen carefully

If they speak in the following voices: Leith Pierre, Bruno White, Harley Sawyer, and Otto Tormentula

Don’t move or approach Octavio. This will get you killed…

Funfact: Octavio and Octavia Tormentulas were banned from bringing to school usually due to how students could cheat using the dolls’ features.

Also their bodies are very plush and cuddly despite being durable.

[mariacallous]

A young technologist known online as “Big Balls,” who works for Elon Musk's so-called Department of Government Efficiency (DOGE), has access to sensitive US government systems. But his professional and online history call into question whether he would pass the background check typically required to obtain security clearances, security experts tell WIRED.

Edward Coristine, a 19-year-old high school graduate, established at least five different companies in the last four years, with entities registered in Connecticut, Delaware, and the United Kingdom, most of which were not listed on his now-deleted LinkedIn profile. Coristine also briefly worked in 2022 at Path Network, a network monitoring firm known for hiring reformed black-hat hackers. Someone using a Telegram handle tied to Coristine also solicited a cyberattack-for-hire service later that year.

Coristine did not respond to multiple requests for comment.

One of the companies Coristine founded, Tesla.Sexy LLC, was set up in 2021, when he would have been around 16 years old. Coristine is listed as the founder and CEO of the company, according to business records reviewed by WIRED.

Tesla.Sexy LLC controls dozens of web domains, including at least two Russian-registered domains. One of those domains, which is still active, offers a service called Helfie, which is an AI bot for Discord servers targeting the Russian market.While the operation of a Russian website would not violate US sanctions preventing Americans doing business with Russian companies, it could potentially be a factor in a security clearance review.

"Foreign connections, whether it's foreign contacts with friends or domain names registered in foreign countries, would be flagged by any agency during the security investigation process," Joseph Shelzi, a former US Army intelligence officer who held security clearance for a decade and managed the security clearance of other units under his command, tells WIRED.

A longtime former US intelligence analyst, who requested anonymity to speak on sensitive topics, agrees. “There's little chance that he could have passed a background check for privileged access to government systems,” they allege.

Another domain under Coristine’s control is faster.pw. The website is currently inactive, but an archived version from October 25, 2022 shows content in Chinese that stated the service helped provide “multiple encrypted cross-border networks.”

Prior to joining DOGE, Coristine worked for several months of 2024 at Elon Musk’s Neuralink brain implant startup, and, as WIRED previously reported, is now listed in Office of Personnel Management records as an “expert” at that agency, which oversees personnel matters for the federal government. Employees of the General Services Administration say he also joined calls where they were made to justify their jobs and to review code they’ve written.

Other elements of Coristine’s personal record reviewed by WIRED, government security experts say, would also raise questions about obtaining security clearances necessary to access privileged government data. These same experts further wonder about the vetting process for DOGE staff—and, given Coristine’s history, whether he underwent any such background check.

The White House did not immediately respond to questions about what level of clearance, if any, Corisitine has, and if so, how it was granted.

At Path Network, Coristine worked as a systems engineer from April to June of 2022, according to his now-deleted LinkedIn resume. Path has at times listed as employees Eric Taylor, also known as Cosmo the God, a well-known former cybercriminal and member of the hacker group UGNazis, as well as Matthew Flannery, an Australian convicted hacker whom police allege was a member of the hacker group LulzSec. It’s unclear whether Coristine worked at Path concurrently with those hackers, and WIRED found no evidence that either Coristine or other Path employees engaged in illegal activity while at the company.

“If I was doing the background investigation on him, I would probably have recommended against hiring him for the work he’s doing,” says EJ Hilbert, a former FBI agent who also briefly served as the CEO of Path Network prior to Coristine’s employment there. “I’m not opposed to the idea of cleaning up the government. But I am questioning the people that are doing it.”

Potential concerns about Coristine extend beyond his work history. Archived Telegram messages shared with WIRED show that, in November 2022, a person using the handle “JoeyCrafter” posted to a Telegram channel focused on so-called distributed denial of service, or DDOS, cyberattacks that bombard victim sites with junk traffic to knock them offline. In his messages, JoeyCrafter—which records from Discord, Telegram, and the networking protocol BGP indicate was a handle used by Coristine—writes that he’s “looking for a capable, powerful and reliable L7” that accepts Bitcoin payments. That line, in the context of a DDOS-for-hire Telegram channel, suggests he was looking for someone who could carry out a layer 7 attack, a certain form of DDOS. A DDOS-for-hire service with the name Dstat.cc was seized in a multi-national law enforcement operation last year.

The JoeyCrafter Telegram account had previously used the name “Rivage,” a name linked to Coristine on Discord and at Path, according to Path internal communications shared with WIRED. Both the Rivage Discord and Telegram accounts at times promoted Coristine’s DiamondCDN startup. It’s not clear whether the JoeyCrafter message was followed by an actual DDOS attack. (In the internal messages among Path staff, a question is asked about Rivage, at which point an individual clarifies they are speaking about "Edward".)

"It does depend on which government agency is sponsoring your security clearance request, but everything that you've just mentioned would absolutely raise red flags during the investigative process," Shelzi, the former US Army intelligence officer says. He adds that a secret security clearance could be completed in as little as 50 days while a top secret security clearance could take anywhere from 90 days to a year to complete.

Coristine’s online history, including a LinkedIn account where he calls himself Big Balls, has disappeared recently. He also previously used an account on X with the username @edwardbigballer. The account had a bio that read: “Technology. Arsenal. Golden State Warriors. Space Travel.”

Prior to using the @edwardbigballer username, Coristine was linked to an account featuring the screenname “Steven French” featuring a picture of what appears to be Humpty Dumpty smoking a cigar. In multiple posts from 2020 and 2021, the account can be seen responding to posts from Musk. Coristine’s X account is currently set to private.

Davi Ottenheimer, a longtime security operations and compliance manager, says many factors about Coristine’s employment history and online footprint could raise questions about his ability to obtain security clearance.

“Limited real work experience is a risk,” says Ottenheimer, as an example. “Plus his handle is literally Big Balls.”

[cowboyjen68]

i am 24, from chicago and i have a crush on youuuu

You are very sweet to tell me and this is my opportunity to talk about how healthy internet personalities or "celebrity" crushes are to young lesbians finding thier own sexuality in a world that mostly assumes people straight (becuase statisically that is objectively true).

I still, to this day, remember, as a teen and young woman having a crush on Christy McNichol, Nancy McKeon (or more particularly her character Jo), and Tatum O Neal. There were older women like Markie Post and Erin Gray who I crushed on. "Ooo older women, they are so steady and have their shit together .. and HOT". I actually knew very little about them off screen. My Teen magazines were featuring TEEN stars, for good reason.

But I still crushed on them and watching thier sitcoms. Most of these women were straight but that was not really important. What was important was they were not really real. I could build them to be how I want to be in my mind using the superficial things I could see about them or learn from little interviews etc.

The internet has changed that dynamic slightly. I am accessible. Reachable. A real person. I wonder if someday media experts will refer to"CowboyJen" as a character I created. They would be wrong but I would understand the thought process. There are aspects of my life I don't share. No one wants to see me ass dragging at 10 pm after a 15 hour shift sitting on my bed trying to untie my shoes before I fall asleep or cleaning my bathroom . My life is entwined with others and I protect their privacy unless they agree to participate.

I do answer DM's. I do respond to comments. I am not simply a character on a small screen that does not interact with the audience. That is a shift in the "celebrity" paradigm. And it can make crushes seem much more real.

What I want to address is that crushes and fantasizing about other women IS NORMAL and healthy and a tool to help us figure what we like, learn to enjoy our sexuality. I remember feeling shame for thinking about these women because it was "dirty" and "creepy". In reality it was no such thing. It is just a normal part of being human, to seek out a safe outlet for fantasy, day dreaming and forming our dislikes and likes in our own head and heart so we can translate that to our real dating/love life.

Crushes don't stop at the teens or 20's. I would argue most adults experience crushes as well and it is just another tool in our humanity that we use to navigate the world we live in.

The largest difference is my generation's crushes were relatively unreachable. Fan mail was mostly answered by an employee or a hired service. Any contact in real life with back stage passes or "meet and greets" were heavily controlled and monitored for safety and to protect the image of the celebrity. And also to often to prevent the musician or actor from over stepping his/her bounds too.

Now many smaller scale recognizable people are accessible in real life. We live and work in our communities. I didn't create a character I just share my life and my reality because I think it can truly give other lesbians and women hope that we are not destined to life of stereotypes because we are butch, or lesbian, or bi or female or not rich or any number of things that get false expectations attached to it.

I guess what I am saying is your crush is healthy and normal and I would never shame anyone for having such feelings towards me. It is also my duty as a role model to not breech appropriate boundaries and I take that job very seriously. The fact is I travel to Chicago on occasion and I am out and about in the real world so the chances of me meeting followers like you and and others is highly likely at some point. I love meeting people and often to respond to and meet followers, who become my friends, in person. We are all people and I am dead serious about forming intergenerational lesbian connections in real life.

Your crush is your safe place to explore emotions and attractions so enjoy.

Side note: I don't not consider myself a "celebrity" LOL I am using that word in the broad sense as meaning a recognizable person outside of my in-person friends and community.

[drorpheusn1fan]

Okay I lied, here’s more khia because just yes! AND BECAUSE I FINALLY WROTE HER LORE!! For anyone interested, 👇🏻👇🏻

Dr. Khia Crow (Venture bros oc)

'Early life:'

Khia was born into wealth and intelligence, the only child of a scientist named "Dr. Frank Crow", mother "Adrianne J. Crow" deceased after Labor. Khia grew up in a mansion full of lab equipment instead of toys, she was always surrounded by machines, formulas and emotionally unavailable adults. In her teens, Khia had built a functional mechanical nervous system prototype to impress her dad, frank didn’t show much interest but was still proud.

'the death of Dr. Frank Crow:'

When Khia was just 17, her father died under sudden but strange circumstances. A "natural heart attack“ in a sealed lab surrounded by equipment that had been humming louder than usual, but Khia still thinks that this wasn’t the actual cause.

Khia‘s madness brought her to his private island lab located off the Atlantic coast and began to dig through his notes. What she found were half sane ideas about consciousness, electromagnetic souls and "binding science to identity".

Due to her grief, she swore to continue his work and prove the world that true science wasn’t dead.

'The New York City incident:'

Ten years later, Khia entered The New York Science Expo, a Guild adjacent showcase for scientists. Khias project was a revolutionary bio magnetic augmentation system capable of keeping human consciousness stable during extreme physical trauma. But she didn’t enter for money or recognition, she entered to honor her father, his true science.

Unexpectedly and unfortunately, Dr. Rusty Venture was also an attendant. He saw her as a threat to his fragile ego, which made him sabotage her work the night before her presentation.

During khias presentation, the device overloaded which made the room get showered in sparks. Her project was declared dangerous, making her her publicly humiliated and quietly blacklisted. After this, nobody heard anything or saw khia ever again for a while.

'The descent into Dr. Khia Crow:'

Isolated on her island, Khia started experimenting on herself due to her past trauma and because she wanted to prove her tech worked, so she made herself the test subject to feel something. She started replacing her muscles and skin with mechanical parts, wove magnetic regulators

into her skin and even tried to encode pieces of her fathers brain scans into an AI core, speaking to it like it was her father, sometimes it answered, but failed.

The process was flawed, her body was beginning to rejecting parts, causing her systems to destabilise, her biology and machinery clashed violently. To protect herself, she built a magnetic containment suit that shields her unstable internals that protects her from outside threats or combat. Now hiding her half barely human body.

'Modern status:'

Khia now lived on her crumbling island lab, that’s surrounded by floating assistant drones nicknamed 'Crows'. The crows monitor, repair and protect the island from any threat. Khia has made several minor appearances at scientific events, sometimes winning small prizes and awards but never receiving the respect she craved.

She refuses to join the GOCI, claiming they’re a Theater troupe in denial. But nontheless, the guild keeps her on their radar as a potential wildcard. The OSI monitors her island for electromagnetic anomalies and 'digital ghost activity'.

'Khias personality:'

Khia might not seem like it, but she’s actually a sunshine to everyone that she dosent really have a problem with.

Even though she never shows it, she is still emotional under the surface.

She barely talks with people. But when she does, she finally lets everything out that she thinks about.

She also likes to design clothes that are suitable for her mechanical body parts, already as a child she’s been interested in fashion besides science.

She can give great advice to others but not to herself.

She loves listening to others interests.

Her favorite meal is zuppa di pesce! But her cooking skills aren’t the best so she might just go to the city to get it.

Her favorite weapons are bows and rifles.

'Extra Infos:'

Name: (Dr.) Khia J. Crow

Height: 1.85 (6'1)

Weight: 88kg (194.01 lbs)

Gender: female

Sexuality: Bisexual

[deathmetalunicorn1]

Hello, and happy easter everyone! ^^

I don't know if you remember the autistic teen!reader request with the ROR family, and I certainly haven't made another request in a while, heh. Anyways, I would like to ask for a part two where reader is comforted after overstimulation.

The reason? Too much noise, a harsh heat wave so I was sweating excessively, strong perfume and uncomfortable clothes. I was about to throw up but thank God I finished what I was doing and came back home. Yes, I am projecting once again for my request. 🥲

Thing is, reader locks themselves in their room for about an hour, and comes out seeking for Poseidon and Hades to calm down with silent company at first. I personally think that those two, especially Poseidon, would be helpful in a situation like that (of course, in the ooc context) because they are quite levelheaded and quiet, which is what I need most of the time rather than words sometimes because processing auditory information can be a pain when you are on edge.

So that would be it, just reader sitting in silence with them for some time until they are comfortable to start speaking about what happened, definitely doing any kind of physical stimming, trying to understand the situation and then resume their activities together. Think I made it a bit too long and I apologize for it, haha. Have a nice day! 🩵

-It had been a bit upsetting to see you come in after school without saying hello to any of them, opting to go straight up to your bedroom instead, closing the door behind you.

-When you closed the door, that’s when your family knew that you needed a bit of space, as you never closed your door unless you were upset or if you needed some alone time.

-They knew that, due to you not saying anything, being non-verbal, that you were overstimulated, which was confirmed shortly after, when Eve called your teacher, and found out that there was an assembly at your school that had lots of music. Pairing that with the dancing and cheering, it was easy to determine that you had been overwhelmed.

-It was never the same, when you got overstimulated, with how you were going to react. One time you were better in about ten minutes, other times you had mentally shut down for half a day, another time you threw up, but they were going to be careful on monitoring you, just to make sure you would be okay.

-It was a little over an hour later when you came out, you were quiet, still not talking when you peeked into the living room. They knew not to stare at you, opting for small glances instead.

-Eve approached you with a warm smile, wanting to know if you wanted anything to eat, but you shook your head, not meeting her eyes as you looked around the room.

-You saw Poseidon and you immediately went over to him, lifting your arms up and he reached down, slowly, to not scare you, and pulled you up to sit beside him on the couch, letting you lean against him, but not touching you otherwise.

-Poseidon and Hades were your go to people when you got overstimulated, Hades because he had years of practice, being around for so long, but Poseidon was so patient with you, he would basically let you do or talk about anything, and that was comforting for you.

-Many were worried, not wanting you to get sick, but seeing you holding onto Poseidon’s free hand, as he was reading a book in his other, was a good sign, as normally when you were like this you didn’t want to touch anyone or let anyone touch you.

-Just sitting there, listening to the various conversations, looking at the different family members, a few who saw you looking giving you small smiles, you slowly calmed down even more, slowly feeling better.

-You gave Poseidon’s hand a small squeeze, making him look down at you, but you weren’t looking at him, you were looking at Eve, “Snack?”

-She immediately smiled, offering you her own hand, “What would you like today? Or should we explore our options?” You took her hand, sliding off the couch, looking back at Poseidon who gave you a ghost of a smile before heading to the kitchen where you found Hercules and Loki, eating their own snacks.

-Your family knew that you would be okay, it just takes time and patience, something they’re always willing to give to you.

[mojo-bro-tho]

My niche in writing is apparently Panic Attack.

Which makes total sense because I have them frequently enough that I can break apart a lot of what it feels like (at least for me) and so having a character like Emmrich who, although we never see it happen, can be reasonably inferred to have them is both very comforting to me and also very interesting to write and think about!

I feel like when a lot of people hear ‘panic attack’ they pretty reasonably imagine ‘anxiety attack’ in their heads. And that makes sense! If you’ve never experienced either, or only one but not the other, or have never seen someone have one, I imagine they kind of become the same thing! But from my experience, and I do actively think about this as I write, they actually feel WILDLY different.

Whenever I’m writing Emmrich or Rook (if the Rook in question also experiences anxiety and/or panic) I try to consider where it’s stemming from and how that would influence character decisions as a whole. And I also take into consideration how familiar they are with the process as a whole.

Which makes Emmrich so interesting to think about! Like, I’m in my mid-20s and I’ve been having full blown panics since I was an early teen. I would say I’m fairly well-versed in how I work and operate and how I have to live my life has a result of it. But Emmrich has like at least 30 years up on me from that front (I sort of hc that he started having them as a pretty young kid so probably more but I’m being general here) so I have to try and think about how someone even more experienced than me goes about it and how that works for them.

I could make an entire series probably How Panic Attack Work For Writing but for now I’m mostly noodling on Emmrich having what I’ve called “Delayed Response Panic”. I’m actually not sure if there is an actual name for it, but I’m sure the name tells you enough.

I normally write Emmrich’s anxiety and panic happening behind the scenes of what he’s saying/doing. For quite a few people who have attacks, you can get very accustomed to masking. I’ve been told I’m pretty good at it personally until it gets to “the point of no return” so I imagine he’s a bit of a master at it.

The Delayed Response Panic is pretty common from my experience after long periods of masking. It’s sort of like a bottle getting repeatedly shaken up. You have enough control to hold it in for a certain amount of time before it explodes. While writing Emmrich or considering if he’ll have an attack, I think about how much he probably values having that sense of control over himself to not let himself be seen.

It isn’t even necessarily a shame thing, if you don’t think it’s flavored that way. He openly discusses having the anxiety or the panic, he isn’t ashamed of it existing. It’s part of him, he lives with it, it’s just a thing. But there are LEAGUES apart from not having shame about it and openly being okay with people seeing it happen.

A lot of it can be self preservation at the end of the day. If people don’t know what they’re doing, they can easily make it worse. But there’s also dangers to going through it alone. I personally don’t have the luxury of being able to do things by myself a whole lot because if I have an attack, I need to be monitored. (Oxygen deprivation and such, may require very real medical intervention) So sometimes you have to weigh your options.

Do I think Emmrich knows himself well enough to know he doesn’t need to be monitored? Does he just believe he does even though he’s wrong? A lot of questions like that come to mind when I’m writing him.

And the Delayed Response Panic is extra precarious in that way. It happens almost exclusively when you’re alone and when things have quieted down and your body just goes into full shut down mode. It’s not just fight or flight anymore, it’s the body truly believing it is actively dying and needs to find a way out, which a lot of times actually exacerbates the problem.

But I also imagine sadly enough that Emmrich is so used to being alone that the idea of someone helping is in it of itself panic inducing. I think about that shit CONSTANTLY! The most composed, soft spoken man anyone has ever seen. So mild mannered and kind and polite. Walking behind closed doors from people who care about him, want to help him, and always instead walking away and doing what he can alone. Maybe he can stop it and calm himself down, just not when others are watching. Maybe it’ll take over but at least it won’t be a bother or a nightmare for someone else. That shit runs deep and it’s awful.

This was kind of a nothing ramble but I do plan on eventually writing full scenes as one shots for Panic Disorder Emmrich because it’s something I am capable of doing. But this is all to say that I think Emmrich has a lot of his either anxiety or panic attacks in private for reasons more closely associated to practicality than to full shame (there’s still some shame because there’s simply no getting away from it) and I’m haunted by it ~frequently~

Sorry for the yaps, I like to share my two cents

[undertale-fic-librarby]

I have some fics to submit! A Guardian's Guard, by TheOwlsArchive

Backyard Nights, by Cheshiregeist

I'm Not Who You Want Me To Be(But You'll Never Accept Me For Who I Am), by Stargazer_Nebula In a Minor Study of Evil, by Monsieur_Worm and printter paper copy_paste, by vicen_non All on AO3!

Howdy, & thanks for the recommendation! The fics being recommended are…

A Guardian's Guard by TheOwlsArchive (Mature, Complete)

Nightmare rescued Cross, beaten and bloody, from the soldiers personal hell. Gave him a home. A safe space. A place away from the castle where Cross could heal and process before the guardian offered the soldier a spot in his ranks. He wanted Cross to come to terms on his own time. Wanted to give him plenty of time to think over the offer, and would graciously accept Cross' refusal if he chose to do so. That unfortunately changed when a demon from the soldiers past decided to shatter that bubble of safety. Now, the guard needs a more secure safety net, and Nightmare is willing to provide it. Himself and his gang would easily take in another soul in need of stability and companionship. Another safe space. Little did he know Cross would be able to provide something similar for the guardian himself.

Backyard Nights by orphan_account (Teen And Up, Complete)

Sometimes Color needs to see the stars and breathe fresh air the same way Killer needs to move. It’s fine.

I'm Not Who You Want Me To Be (But You'll Never Accept Who I Am) by Stargazer_Nebula (Not Rated, Complete)

He did it. Dream ate one of the only Black Apples left in existence... but he's no longer with them now. In his place, Shattered came into existence, inhabiting his new body with his memories. A certain someone isn't taking the transformation as well as Dream would've hoped. And now he's here, stuck in a castle, being trailed by magic servants and with a monitor on him. Personally, he thinks Nightmare's being too cautious about his new form, but he doesn't the logic behind it. It's not like Dream still exists, right?

In a Minor Study of Evil: The Necessary by Monsieur_Worm (General Audiences, Complete)

Nightmare studies his gaggle of parasites to find a working analogy.

printer paper copy-paste by vicen_non (Teen And Up, Complete)

You wake up in a vast, lonely space. You are… what are you? === Per request of Candy_Cryptid. Reader-is-Ink, with a side of Errorink.

[hinge]

Hinge presents an anthology of love stories almost never told. Read more on https://no-ordinary-love.co

[talvin-muircastle]

Your Mission: First, Take Care Of YOU

This has been simmering in my head for a bit, so time to get it out and onto your screens. I warn that this will run a little long and get into some unhappy topics. It's important. It is important for you. We are heading into some rough seas, and there are some things you need to think about going forward.

I am going to lead off with a cautionary tale from, oh, about thirty years ago. It's not the main topic of this post, but it illustrates it quite well:

At that time, the Internet was still a wild frontier, in ways those of you in Gen Z just can't even imagine. Some of you Millenials will remember it, of course. The Law had not really woken up to what was happening, and most people were not on the Internet. Where I lived, many people did not own a personal computer. They used one at school or work, but didn't have one at home, and laptops were rare and expensive things (and HEAVY), and smartphones just weren't.

So, those of us who got onto the Internet in a serious way were, by definition, not in the mainstream, for the most part. I was college-age, and an admin on a MU*. Some of you may need to look that up, but basically, imagine something sorta like Minecraft, but it's all text-based, and you created the world around you as you went.

A number of kids did find their way onto the 'Net: more and more people were getting computers, and America OnLine was sending everybody in America a CD-ROM, and so were other companies whose names I can barely remember now. So teenagers and even younger kids were coming into our MU*. Banning them was impossible: they'd just lie about their age. So, instead, I took on an extra role of "KidWiz" (admins were "Wizards") and met them where they were. Adult areas and activities were clearly marked as offlimits, and we told them that if we caught them there, they would be in trouble. We worked to make the place welcoming to them.

Of course, this soon attracted predators. There was a rumor at the time that "Talvin" had some sort of AI monitoring chat (please, we can't get AI to work right now, nevermind in the mid-90s!), because they learned that I, or one of the others, would show up very quickly to kick them off. And we did send one to prison. There was no AI: I gained the trust of the teens, and even recruited a few of the older and more responsible ones to the Staff that handled things in areas they could access, and they were sick of being stalked like that, so as soon as somebody showed up looking for "jailbait", one of us Adults heard from one of the kids and BAM! To the moon!

As I had gained their trust, they started bringing things to me. Then, as now, the adage was, "If something happens, tell an adult" but, sadly, our little corner of the early 'Net was one of the few places the Adults would actually listen. There are more options, now, and better ones, but it's still a problem. I could go on, but that's a different post.

I wasn't very much older than they, but I had had similar experiences, and I did what I could. I listened, I advised, I found resources (toll-free phone numbers, they didn't have live internet chat and texting then), and I have to say my Tortured Young Geniuses (as I called them) tended to turn into adults to be proud of. One of them, I have a collection of his published works on my shelf.

Now we come to the cautionary part of this tale. I know, I took a bit to get here. Context really matters.

One evening I got an alert that we had a New Kid. I went out to meet and greet (and watch for telltale signs this was an adult trying to pretend to be a kid to get access to kids, they usually gave themselves away).

A short while later, I was on the Staff channel begging for someone to please come take this kid off my hands. That led to an All-Hands-On-Deck situation. They had seen me deal with kids dealing with abuse, kids talking to us as they were *in the process of* committing grievous self-harm, kids with situations that would make you sick to hear about it. If I was that panicked and out of my depth, this must be bad. Talvin?! What's wrong?

I had a meltdown. This was...a normal young teen. She wasn't here looking for help, she wasn't struggling with her orientation or identity, she wasn't depressed and looking for understanding, she was a "normal", healthy kid who just heard about us and came to see what we were all about. Get her away from me before I break her or something, I have nothing in common with this kid and I have no idea what to do with her!

One of the young adults took over and showed her around, made introductions, while the rest of the Staff cornered Talvin and had an Intervention!

I had gotten so focused on my "mission", my activism and the good I was trying to do in the world that I had ignored my most valuable resource: me.

We weren't using the phrase "touch grass" back then, but the idea is much older than our language: Talvin really, really needed to go outside and touch some grass.

I got more help, after that. I got told to go spend some time doing the things I had come there to do originally. To have fun. I was not abandoning my responsibilities--or rather, I had abandoned other responsibilities. A responsibility to myself.

I have not stopped being a mentor to young people in the thirty years since, though that MU* is long gone. I have gotten wiser, there are more and better resources, and of course the world has changed. Some for the better, some for the worse, some just different. But I have not forgotten the lesson of that night, though I am ashamed to say it was not the last time I ignored that wall and ran face-first into it.

We live in troubled times. There are a lot of things that will need to be done, that will need people with courage and empathy to face them. We have to take care of each other. Just do not forget to take care of yourselves.

Don't believe the tropes about Heroism. Don't throw yourself on a (metaphorical) grenade. Movies and historical narratives are full of stories about heroes who threw themselves on a grenade to save the team. Here's a bitter pill to swallow: almost always, if someone is throwing themselves on a grenade, it is because nobody planned properly for how to deal with grenades. And they knew there were going to be grenades. Put up netting, dig a trench to kick the grenades into, maybe this battle wasn't a good one to fight then and there.

Grenades are cheap, and people are expensive. If you throw yourself on a grenade, you are wasting yourself, traumatizing those around you, and telling the other side they just need to keep chucking in grenades until your side has nothing left. Too often, that sort of heroism is when somebody was stupid and somebody else got the movie rights.

You have a right and an obligation to take care of yourself first. Don't spend every minute of your time in the battlefield. You are not betraying the cause if you go watch a movie you love, or spend time playing a game with your little toy robots, or go to a live show with a DJ spinning Jazz tunes from across the decades, or whatever works for you. You are taking care of yourself, that you can better take care of others.

You not only do not have to be a grim soldier stereotype, you are failing if you do. I have known, I have lived with, people who were in the military Special Ops community. Hollywood wants you to think that they are all stern-faced John Waynes. Truth: most of them have low and evil senses of humor and a love of puns that rivals my own. One of them sat me down around the same time as that story and told me that if I didn't develop a sense of humor, the cops were going to be sniping me out of a clock tower someday. Yes: Talvin used to be known as someone with no sense of humor. If that sounds scary, well, you don't know the half of it. You would not have liked me back then, and that's fair: I didn't like me either.

You can laugh. You should laugh. In times such as these, Joy can be an act of Defiance. The man who played his cello in Sarajevo, the Auschwitz survivor who danced in the gates to the camp, they refused to allow their joy in living to be defeated. That is not abandoning responsibility or failing to show solidarity: it is a victory. Pride started as a riot, but it continued as a celebration of joy and pride. No one is defeated until you break their spirit. Laugh. Dance. Play. These things, too, are part of the fight, and they renew our spirits. And those who are wavering on which side to support will see the side that is spewing Hate, and the side that is proudly and defiantly spreading Joy, and how shall they choose between them?

Continue the fight for justice, and equality, and a good and decent world for us all. That will require some sacrifices, but don't make pointless sacrifices. Virtue signaling doesn't work: or rather, it does, but not for your side.

Please, take it from someone who has been there: if all you can see is the fight, you are not seeing the big picture, and you are not taking care of yourself. Step away, get some R&R. Take care of yourself.

We love you, and we need you. And you need you too.