#I am aware of the absolute basics of using them

[fuckyeahashes]

This is going to be the sparks notes version of this, as we are coming out with a document detailing the events that took place in a hope of getting some kind of closure, or at least to get us taken off of whatever hit list Qwille has us on. I am only going to talk about the events as they pertain to me, as only that is my story to tell. Other people have also suffered with their own stories, they will be included in the document when it is released.

Qwille and their friends did not like me pretty much the moment I showed up in their server, and I still don't really know why. That's fine. You don't have to like everyone. No one is owed the affection of anyone else. I was well liked on the server in general however! I made lots of friends.

At one point, as I am sure Qwille is going to bring this up as a way to show how awful I am, but I had a manic episode and became convinced Qwille was talking about me behind my back. I confronted them, and then the next day apologized, communicated that I had bipolar, and told them I was getting my medication raised so that this didn't happen again. I believe they might have taken this very badly, and incredibly personally.

Over time, Qwille and their friends had started to hound me, undermine every single thing I said, make fun of me, bully me. This not only increased in frequency but in maliciousness for months on end. They started not only bullying me, but the people that were publicly my friends on the server. I had no idea why they were doing this, or what was going on. I reached out to them (multiple times in fact) in an effort to get them to be more comfortable with me, or at least to get them to harass me less. I was not breaking any rules. If I did cross a line, I immediately apologized. I was kind to everyone. this had absolutely zero impact on whether or not I was bullied more or less. I cannot explain the stress of going to a community to make friends, making them, and then to be harassed and hounded at every opportunity for what seemed like no reason at all, and to have any attempt to reach neutral ground either ignored or met with a vague non-answer with what I was actually doing wrong. "Just leave if you don't like it" "it's just a discord server" is not an excuse that works for a server of over 1,000 people. It is also not an excuse when you are fully aware that there are entire friend groups there, and an almost entirely autistic audience, who likely have no IRL friends outside of it. Especially since I had no intention of showing my tumblr or art or anything else at the time, as my goal was to make friends for me, and not because I am a professional artist.

One day, one of the mods came to me and told me they could tell I was stressed, and that I could talk to them and confide in them. I told them that I had ASPD, and one of the reasons the bullying from the moderators and Qwille there was so upsetting is because being seen as an enemy, or a bad person, is a very touchy and hurtful subject to me, especially when I work so hard to be the opposite of that. They immediately accused me of attempting to manipulate them by telling them this information, and when I begged them not to tell their friends because knowing I had that would just give them more reason to feel justified in hating and bullying me, they once again claimed I had tried to manipulate them by telling them this information and then attempting to keep them from telling anyone else. This, with my disorder and how I struggle with it, was very hurtful to hear.

At one point Qwille showed up and claimed I was faking my autism to get away with things. I have paperwork to clarify my autism diagnosis, and later that was included in the reasons I was banned from the server. One day, I was suddenly banned without warning. The reason given by Gilly to me was that I, basically, was faking my autism to get away with things, rude and unruly, a problem causer, and basically they were just completely and totally sick of me. I was… not surprised. I could tell they were looking for an excuse to ban me ages ago. I accepted that I was going to lose contact with all my friends and looked up different things to do to distract me from my stressful life. 

What I didnt expect was for me to be so well liked and supported that people actually spoke out at Qwille demanding to know why I was banned. Their reason was that I had made people uncomfortable and that there were an overwhelming amount of people who had submitted tickets claiming I had made them uncomfortable. When people all brought forward stories about how I was very respectful to them and demanded to see the tickets in which people had said I had made them uncomfortable, the mods said they couldn’t do that because all of those people were minors. And that we didn’t know these minors, because they were lurkers. Once again, these people were bullying me in a public space, in front of everyone. It was blatant, everyone could see it, and I was well liked. This was not believed, and the mods desperately attempted to change the conversation topic to something else.

My friends made a new server for me so that we could still hang out. I was incredibly touched. And then, like clockwork, everyone who had spoken up for me on the server got banned one by one. 

Each person would get blamed for something they didn’t do, a period of time would pass, and the next friend of mine would get banned. Enough so that no one would notice. Eventually the post about banning people who were spreading NSFW content came out informing people that they did not need an explanation or a notice to be banned for that, and we all knew what that meant. They were going to start using that as an excuse to ban us. It would be a lot easier if they used that as a cover. 

Dame watched every single one of us get bullied and banned one by one. To watch this happen to your friends, every single one of us bullied into silence and submission and then banned either for made up reasons or none at all was incredibly stressful for both them and us. This is not a small community. If we had done something wrong it would be different. But we hadn’t. All they had done was be associated with me.

When Dame got banned, it was incredibly hard on them. Eventually the stress of all of this had them completely disappear after leaving a message about suicide. And not just from discord, from the entire internet. We were all terrified. We had no idea if they were alive or dead. Recently they returned, and we were so happy! But when I showed the anon hate that qwille and their friends had sent me, directly targeting my ASPD, something I am very sensitive about, they snapped. Because that meant, after all this time, they were STILL hurting us. There is no excuse for ableism, even if you don’t like them ESPECIALLY from a group that is supposed to believe the opposite. If you think an entire year of harassment, fear, and paranoia while watching your friends accused of terrible things isn’t enough to justify to a suicide attempt, I can’t help you. 

There is no mention of the post Dame made prior to it being announced. There is no reason to tell a community of people at your beck and call to not pay attention to something they aren’t aware of unless you are trying to draw attention to it. As a result, my friend who is recovering from a suicide attempt has been sent suicide bait and asks encouraging them to self harm, as have I and the rest of my friends. Qwille has said nothing on this.

Now, you can’t even like my posts without fear of being instantly banned without notice. It doesn’t even matter who you are. I wish I could talk to these people, find out what it is about me they hate so much that they think they are justified in this.

--By the way, as qwille and their friends are claiming we've been planning this, we have not. At first, when I got banned, my friends wanted to do this just because of the injustice of what happened to me. And again, when it started happening to other friends of mine. But it was dropped. This, here, is happening because of you sending people to harass my friends. The suicide bait, the cutting anons, the laughter, that is why this is happening. It wouldn't have otherwise.

[irlwakko]

can you be robbed of something if it never actually existed. anyway we were robbed of villain zoey

[sophiamcdougall]

You're a reasonably informed person on the internet. You've experienced things like no longer being able to get files off an old storage device, media you've downloaded suddenly going poof, sites and forums with troves full of people's thoughts and ideas vanishing forever. You've heard of cybercrime. You've read articles about lost media. You have at least a basic understanding that digital data is vulnerable, is what I'm saying. I'm guessing that you're also aware that history is, you know... important? And that it's an ongoing study, requiring ... data about how people live? And that it's not just about stanning celebrities that happen to be dead? Congratulations, you are significantly better-informed than the British government! So they're currently like "Oh hai can we destroy all these historical documents pls? To save money? Because we'll digitise them first so it's fine! That'll be easy, cheap and reliable -- right? These wills from the 1850s will totally be fine for another 170 years as a PNG or whatever, yeah? We didn't need to do an impact assesment about this because it's clearly win-win! We'd keep the physical wills of Famous People™ though because Famous People™ actually matter, unlike you plebs. We don't think there are any equalities implications about this, either! Also the only examples of Famous People™ we can think of are all white and rich, only one is a woman and she got famous because of the guy she married. Kisses!"

Yes, this is the same Government that's like "Oh no removing a statue of slave trader is erasing history :(" You have, however, until 23 February 2024 to politely inquire of them what the fuck they are smoking. And they will have to publish a summary of the responses they receive. And it will look kind of bad if the feedback is well-argued, informative and overwhelmingly negative and they go ahead and do it anyway. I currently edit documents including responses to consultations like (but significantly less insane) than this one. Responses do actually matter. I would particularly encourage British people/people based in the UK to do this, but as far as I can see it doesn't say you have to be either. If you are, say, a historian or an archivist, or someone who specialises in digital data do say so and draw on your expertise in your answers. This isn't a question of filling out a form. You have to manually compose an email answering the 12 questions in the consultation paper at the link above. I'll put my own answers under the fold. Note -- I never know if I'm being too rude in these sorts of things. You probably shouldn't be ruder than I have been.

Please do not copy and paste any of this: that would defeat the purpose. This isn't a petition, they need to see a range of individual responses. But it may give you a jumping-off point.

Question 1: Should the current law providing for the inspection of wills be preserved?

Yes. Our ability to understand our shared past is a fundamental aspect of our heritage. It is not possible for any authority to know in advance what future insights they are supporting or impeding by their treatment of material evidence. Safeguarding the historical record for future generations should be considered an extremely important duty.

Question 2: Are there any reforms you would suggest to the current law enabling wills to be inspected?

No.

Question 3: Are there any reasons why the High Court should store original paper will documents on a permanent basis, as opposed to just retaining a digitised copy of that material?

Yes. I am amazed that the recent cyber attack on the British Library, which has effectively paralysed it completely, not been sufficient to answer this question for you.  I also refer you to the fate of the Domesday Project. Digital storage is useful and can help more people access information; however, it is also inherently fragile. Malice, accident, or eventual inevitable obsolescence not merely might occur, but absolutely should be expected. It is ludicrously naive and reflects a truly unpardonable ignorance to assume that information preserved only in digital form is somehow inviolable and safe, or that a physical document once digitised, never need be digitised again..At absolute minimum, it should be understood as certain that at least some of any digital-only archive will eventually be permanently lost. It is not remotely implausible that all of it would be. Preserving the physical documents provides a crucial failsafe. It also allows any errors in reproduction -- also inevitable-- to be, eventually, seen and corrected. Note that maintaining, upgrading and replacing digital infrastructure is not free, easy or reliable. Over the long term, risks to the data concerned can only accumulate.

"Unlike the methods for preserving analog documents that have been honed over millennia, there is no deep precedence to look to regarding the management of digital records. As such, the processing, long-term storage, and distribution potential of archival digital data are highly unresolved issues. [..] the more digital data is migrated, translated, and re-compressed into new formats, the more room there is for information to be lost, be it at the microbit-level of preservation. Any failure to contend with the instability of digital storage mediums, hardware obsolescence, and software obsolescence thus meets a terminal end—the definitive loss of information. The common belief that digital data is safe so long as it is backed up according to the 3-2-1 rule (3 copies on 2 different formats with 1 copy saved off site) belies the fact that it is fundamentally unclear how long digital information can or will remain intact. What is certain is that its unique vulnerabilities do become more pertinent with age."  -- James Boyda, On Loss in the 21st Century: Digital Decay and the Archive, Introduction.

Question 4: Do you agree that after a certain time original paper documents (from 1858 onwards) may be destroyed (other than for famous individuals)? Are there any alternatives, involving the public or private sector, you can suggest to their being destroyed?

Absolutely not. And I would have hoped we were past the "great man" theory of history. Firstly, you do not know which figures will still be considered "famous" in the future and which currently obscure individuals may deserve and eventually receive greater attention. I note that of the three figures you mention here as notable enough to have their wills preserved, all are white, the majority are male (the one woman having achieved fame through marriage) and all were wealthy at the time of their death. Any such approach will certainly cull evidence of the lives of women, people of colour and the poor from the historical record, and send a clear message about whose lives you consider worth remembering.

Secondly, the famous and successsful are only a small part of our history. Understanding the realities that shaped our past and continue to mould our present requires evidence of the lives of so-called "ordinary people"!

Did you even speak to any historians before coming up with this idea?

Entrusting the documents to the private sector would be similarly disastrous. What happens when a private company goes bust or decides that preserving this material is no longer profitable? What reasonable person, confronted with our crumbling privatised water infrastructure, would willingly consign any part of our heritage to a similar fate?

Question 5: Do you agree that there is equivalence between paper and digital copies of wills so that the ECA 2000 can be used?

No. And it raises serious questions about the skill and knowledge base within HMCTS and the government that the very basic concepts of data loss and the digital dark age appear to be unknown to you. I also refer you to the Domesday Project.

Question 6: Are there any other matters directly related to the retention of digital or paper wills that are not covered by the proposed exercise of the powers in the ECA 2000 that you consider are necessary?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 7: If the Government pursues preserving permanently only a digital copy of a will document, should it seek to reform the primary legislation by introducing a Bill or do so under the ECA 2000?

Destroying the physical documents will always be an unforgivable dereliction of legal and moral duty.

Question 8: If the Government moves to digital only copies of original will documents, what do you think the retention period for the original paper wills should be? Please give reasons and state what you believe the minimum retention period should be and whether you consider the Government’s suggestion of 25 years to be reasonable.

There is no good version of this plan. The physical documents should be preserved.

Question 9: Do you agree with the principle that wills of famous people should be preserved in the original paper form for historic interest?

This question betrays deep ignorance of what "historic interest" actually is. The study of history is not simply glorified celebrity gossip. If anything, the physical wills of currently famous people could be considered more expendable as it is likely that their contents are so widely diffused as to be relatively "safe", whereas the wills of so-called "ordinary people" will, especially in aggregate, provide insights that have not yet been explored.

Question 10: Do you have any initial suggestions on the criteria which should be adopted for identifying famous/historic figures whose original paper will document should be preserved permanently?

Abandon this entire lamentable plan. As previously discussed, you do not and cannot know who will be considered "famous" in the future, and fame is a profoundly flawed criterion of historical significance.

Question 11: Do you agree that the Probate Registries should only permanently retain wills and codicils from the documents submitted in support of a probate application? Please explain, if setting out the case for retention of any other documents.

No, all the documents should be preserved indefinitely.

Question 12: Do you agree that we have correctly identified the range and extent of the equalities impacts under each of these proposals set out in this consultation? Please give reasons and supply evidence of further equalities impacts as appropriate.

No. You appear to have neglected equalities impacts entirely. As discussed, in your drive to prioritise "famous people", your plan will certainly prioritise the white, wealthy and mostly the male, as your "Charles Dickens, Charles Darwin and Princess Diana" examples amply indicate. This plan will create a two-tier system where evidence of the lives of the privileged is carefully preserved while information regarding people of colour, women, the working class and other disadvantaged groups is disproportionately abandoned to digital decay and eventual loss. Current and future historians from, or specialising in the history of minority groups will be especially impoverished by this.  

[lucydixon]

Erik Campbell Dating Headcanons

Gif By @sunnyie-eve

Has anyone asked for any of these? no. Am I gonna stop? Probably not. Y'all are eating this man up, so I will officially open requests for him since I've run through my usual basic HCs

This man is giving the couple in highschool who made out in the hallway constantly and didn’t give a fuck who was watching, vibes. One of them was always emo, too. Is that a universal experience, or no? Anyway, he’d be all over PDA. He’ll kiss you no matter where you are or who’s around.

Erik is the biggest softie, especially when you’re alone. 

He’s always gotta be touching you in some way. Holding hands, arm draped over your shoulder, hugging you from behind. I think he’d be very grabby, but he would just melt if you got all clingy and were hanging off of him, being all cute. 

100% keeps a naked picture of you in his wallet. When the two of you spend more than 24 hours apart, he probably takes it out whenever he’s bored, looks down at it with a little smirk, and then goes on about his day, thinking about your bare skin, distracted.

I think he’s a sappy drunk and gets really emotional, going on about how much he loves you and how he wants to spend the rest of his life with you. Overall, he’d act like a man in yearning who’s longing for your affection as if you weren’t crawling into bed together, attached at the hip and wrapped around one another.

He likes lying down on the couch with his head in your lap when the two of you are watching TV together, especially when you’re alone. He’d just melt feeling your fingers threading through his hair and your nails raking gently over his scalp, absentmindedly, while you focused on whatever it is you’re watching. 

Most of the pet names he uses are really not the average ‘baby’, or ‘honey’. He’ll use them sometimes, usually when he’s trying to sweeten you up for something. But most of the time, he’s gonna call you things like  ‘asshole’, or ‘fucker’, but affectionately.

I can see Erik being a biter, but in a playful, affectionate way. I think it's more of a cuteness aggression thing, really. Every once in a while, he’ll just squeeze you real tight or sink his teeth into you, seemingly out of nowhere.

He’s still sarcastic as fuck though so if you yelp and and shove him off of you, laughing while asking ‘what the hell was that?’. You’re just gonna get an ‘I love you, asshole. What? I can’t love you?’

Very much the ‘shut up’, ‘make me’ type. The two of you are probably constantly rolling around, wrestling, making out, or arguing, regardless of where you are or who’s around. 

I think if he brought you to meet his family and they immediately loved you, it would be the ultimate reassurance for him. He would absolutely love watching you interact with his siblings, throwing yourself into the fold, and getting to know them. 

He’s the type to get your name tatted on him after a couple of years and just not tell you. It’s not unusual by any means to see him coming home with a fresh tattoo all wrapped up, so you probably wouldn’t think twice when he comes home with his chest all bandaged up. 

He usually shows you whatever it is once he unwraps it after a couple days, you usually help him get it cleaned up, but this time, when you’re peeling the wrap off of it, he’s staring down at you with great interest and a hint of nerves, watching as you freeze, reading the neat lettering inked over his heart with wide eyes. 

You’d ask him what the hell he’d gone and done that for. Just as aware as you knew he was that it was generally a big no-no, but he’d just tell you that he’s gonna marry you one day, so it’ll be fine, and if by some tragedy, that isn’t the case, he knows he’ll love you till the day he dies, even if he can’t have you. 

This would be a really good time for him to propose, but even if he doesn’t, y’all are about to have the most passionate, loving sex you’ve ever had in your lives. 

Dividers made by @saradika-graphics

[hoothootmotherf-ckers]

the hardest thing about chronic pain to me is how it makes me doubt my own brain.

I have chronic pain. specifically chronic migraines. and the hard thing about that, or neurological pain in general, or really just so fucking many different chronic pain conditions, is there is no proof.

there's no scan a doctor can do to show my pain level or symptoms. you can't look at my head and go "huh, looks fucked up, probably a 8/10 pain." absolutely everything I experience, in order to be understood by a medical professional or even just anyone really, has to be self-recognized and self reported.

and that requires so many steps and levels of trust. like just to fucking start, I have to be aware that the invisible thing I am experiencing is not a thing everyone feels! which again, fucking invisible! Then I have to be aware it's happening at all, which sounds basic but with chronic shit is not. I had to explain to a doctor this week that I do not know if I ever experience "normal" or low-level headaches, because I'm so used to severe migraines that anything below that doesn't register. Sometimes it even takes hours for me to notice I'm having a migraine!

and then I have to be able to assess my own pain, judge how bad it really is, when after nine fucking years my scale is goddamn broken. and the longer I've had a migraine, the further out of whack it goes. I have to recognize and categorize my symptoms, one of which is fucking brain fog, and I have to communicate these very nebulous and abstract concepts to other people.

And then. And then they have to actually believe me. I have to convince them I'm not lying, I'm not looking for attention or drugs or pity or excuses. with zero hard proof, just my words. and then it cycles, because if people doubt my pain, I start to doubt my own experiences. I start to think I'm being a wimp, I'm faking it, I can try harder. so then I downplay it, so then I think it's fine, so I push through it, and this works great until I am fully fucking incapacitated.

and then people are shocked and surprised because I "look healthy."

it has taken fucking years for me to accept that what I am experiencing is real and people who doubt me can go fuck themselves. and it's still very much a work in progress. every single day.

but my pain is real. and so is yours. and people who doubt us can, to reiterate, go fuck themselves.

[defire]

do you perhaps have any prompts for when the living weapon is rescued and is just… so fucking awkward and doesn’t even notice. like no social cues existent (same), no sense of manners, social etiquette or politeness. they dont really talk unless spoken to first, but when they do speak they have absolutely no filter. this guy could murder everyone in the room but would not survive a high school lunch table

Oh hell yeah this is my cup of tea and my favorite brand.

Living weapon after they are rescued:

["long as I can remember" vibes]

Sorry it took me this long to answer! I was going through some stuff. I wanted to make sure i could give you quality content 👌 accidentally made too many though.

Eating as fast as possible and super messy. Everyone is just trying to talk and slowly stops as whumpee slurps their food down.

"are you ok whumpee?" "Yes, sorry, so sorry, I'm done. What do you need from me?"

Just casually leaning onto the table in a new tank top, and everyone suddenly notices the evenly-spaced scars down each shoulder. Clearly intentional. Everyone looks horrified at whumpee.

"Oh. I'm sorry. I forgot to cover, um," whumpee backing away flushing and covering their shoulders because they think their scars are gross.

Whumpee biting off their nails, picking their nose, other stuff they got used to doing whenever they had a chance because there was rarely any access to basic hygiene.

Or, whumpee coming in scrubbed and smelling like 5 different soaps because even the slightest smell of body odor triggers them

Whumpee sitting down stiffly, then stiffly mimicking others' relaxed posture when they see people staring. "Whumpee, it's ok, you can relax." "I am relaxed, I'm doing the relaxing thing. I've got this leg on the other leg just like you, what am I doing wrong?!" (Panicking that they're not following protocol!)

Right after being rescued, insisting that they're fine, because any touch feels like an attack.

Getting angry/defensive/paranoid when people show concern. They're not familiar with it and don't trust it at all.

Defending their abusers, forced laughter, panic in their eyes. "It was just a few lashes. Technically they were being merciful." "For refusing to kill a child!"

"I don't really have feelings, it's ok."

"Your OWN PEOPLE tortured you?" "No, torture is different, I've been tortured actually, it's not as scary, hah, uh," whumpee's voice falters as they freeze, that familiar sense of dread trickling down their spine as they flash back.

"I'm aware that you are saying you're not going to hurt me, yes. I understand completely. The concept." Whumpee smiles stiffly. "But do you believe me?" Caretaker pushes. Whumpee swallows, still smiling. "If that's what you want me to do."

When they hold their breath as they sit down in a comfortable chair for the first time in years.

This is going to have a pt 2 because it's really long!

[twobehonest]

AU where Octavian is the host for Gaia. Kinda like how Luke was the host for Kronos, but diff. The main difference is that it wouldn't be known to Octavian that she is basically controlling his thoughts.

Mm decided to go steal a certain plot point in Wings of Fire with the earring. As that's the thing that holds her (man idk I came up with this at 3 PM and it's 2 AM explaining it 💀, I am naut coming up with a good reason rn)

I can only think she's recouping herself so she can grow stronger without, while attaching herself to someone with a strong position in the Roman Camp so she can actively drive them apart. Heavy manipulation tactics there. Maybe faking certain prophecies to make him absolutely spiral with paranoia, specifically the ones he sees about the invasion maybe. She negatively influences how he socializes and takes care of himself, which is why he's described so skinny.

She doesn't want her host to have a proper support group, nor anyone to talk to, because that could ruin everything. He'd still be largely paranoid, and an absolute control freak, while having moments of where he simply can't explain why he's exactly thinking or acting this way. To everyone, his change in personality was abrupt and weird. And those strange moments of self-awareness makes it even weirder. But the damage has been done. And it'll only get worse.

I think all of this would be utilized and built up in books 2-3. We wouldn't be villianizing him or using unnecessary word language. He'd be described as uncertain, confused of what he's spouting, and overall unbearably unhealthy. Have some characters express worry over him PLEASE. Even if they don't like him in the first place. He doesn't take part in the War Games, and he's usually dismissive about any conversation. Gaia does what Octavian needs to live, then it's isolation again. It's clear she has him in a heavy, heavy hold. And it'll continue like it..

Until Gaia breaks out, of course, but that's a whole other thought to talk about.

(Yes this AU was an excuse to have a reason to really go in depth about Octavian angst.)

[voonroo]

heyy don’t know if you do this character from Hazbin hotel but if you do, could you write about platonic! Dad! Lucifer x Teen daughter reader. Reader would be Charlie’s younger sister. How is reader’ relationship with Lucifer? And what would her reaction be when Lucifer came to the hotel? (Those are some ideass :)) Tysmm

Little Duckling

⌐‣Lucifer & Teen!Daughter Reader REQ.

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am aware that I have bent this request a bit but I hope you still enjoy it😞

Lucifer & Teen!Daughter Reader

I feel like since you are a teenager you're definitely still under Dad’s roof.

He loves you very dearly and tries to stay in touch with trends.

He's the type of dad to use internet slang in the wrong way.

“Woah! You ate- that!” and he's talking about your dinner but he has the stupidest grin on his face.

He's also the type of dad where if he makes you upset he’ll give you like 20 minutes to cool off before showing up at your door with a peace offering.

It's either food, or a duck.

Speaking of ducks.

There's so many around the house that it's actually insane.

His cooking however is absolutely divine.

No matter what dish it is, if he gets a basic recipe- or tries to cook something without a recipe it doesn't matter.

The food is always amazing.

But when you decide to go to the hotel to stay with your sister for the weekend because you miss her, you're shocked when he decides to come with you to visit.

You know the relationship between your sister and dad, so you just leave them to it…

The walk home was silent, with occasional sniffles coming from him.

“W-What do you want for dinner?” And his voice is all shaky with emotions and he's looking at you while trying not to burst back into tears because he's your dad, so he has to be strong for you.

“Why not take out?” “So you don't like my cooking-”

Definitely makes jokes like that on a daily basis.

Word Count: 264

[thebibliosphere]

Wait, is Jason in Gotham Knights body horror? Because it doesn't feel like his body even tho he's controlling it? (He died, he came back, it's not the same and never will be)

Or is it more analogous to puberty and feeling like you don't know anything about your body anymore?

Just having thoughts about that boy again

I think Jason in Gotham Knights is very much connected with his physical body. It's his biggest weapon, possibly more so than his guns, given his lasting connection to the Lazarus Pit and the power it gives him.

His backstory talks about building himself up to peak physical condition into the absolute unit he is now, and you can either see that as someone trying to reconnect with their physical self or someone vowing never to be small or weak again.

I tend to think of it as both. It's a reclamation of his physical form but also a transformation into something bigger and stronger that ensures he's the scariest, meanest-looking mother fucker in the room. Basically someone you can't underestimate as a threat.

(Try not to think too hard about the fact that he now largely resembles Bruce in stature, that he is now the group's heavy hitter, the most menacing and the most likely to strike fear into the heart of his opponents, and that Jason molded himself into the person he needed to be rescued by as a child. Don't do it. Do not. I am normal about this.)

But he obviously struggles with feeling present mentally sometimes.

You'll see him zoning out occasionally, touching the J-shaped scar on his face before violently shaking himself back into the present.

He has panic attacks while playing a dance video game with a coffin in it—a coffin his character becomes trapped in because he's not moving fast enough. (hello, trauma)

He's angry all the time and so relieved when Barbra expresses her own rage at something because, yes, finally, someone else is letting their emotions out instead of bottling it up (Dick).

His emails are littered with orders for self-help books, emails from his therapist moving his sessions around, and concerned messages from his friends (Roy comes to mind) saying if he needs to get out of Gotham, they'll make it happen.

Alfred holding him while he sobs over losing Bruce still breaks me every time. I have to pause the game and walk around my house until I feel normal again.

And then there's the cut scene where Dick asks, "Hey, remember that time we all [insert funny thing here]," and Jason admits, somewhat angrily, that no, he doesn't because Lazarus took entire swaths of memories from him and he hates how he can't connect with people the way he used to and he hates the way they all look at him (the way Dick is looking at him now) when he admits he doesn't remember something they clearly loved about the old him: the version of him who didn't have volatile mood swings or made people flinch when he did something as mundane as handle a kitchen knife -- the undead monster he came back as*.

The fact that Dick then contrives to recreate this memory so Jason can be included in a newer version of it -- while also giving him what is arguably a weapon -- fucks me up every time. Dick just yeets a kitchen knife at him, trusting that Jason will catch it, and then just steamrolls over Jason's rightful 'what the fuck' expression with "Hey, we're making food. Get dicing."

And Jason knows what they're all doing. He's aware of it, and he gets the teeniest, tiniest smile before smothering it out. Except he can't quite. He's still smiling as he chops the vegetables. And yes, they're all hopeless at cooking compared to him, and he knows he's going to end up taking over, but that's okay. Because this is for him. He gets to control it.

And that's how Jason gets to make a new memory, one where he is handed a weapon and gets to turn it into a genuine expression of nurturing and care.

Because he does care about them. He wouldn't conspire with Dick to bake Barbara's favorite childhood cookies if he didn't. He wouldn't try so hard to be gentle with Tim triggering the shit out of him while he's struggling with his grief. He just doesn't always know how to express it because he doesn't always know what he's feeling.

Is his anger valid? Or is this Lazarus Pit Rage? Is he being overly sensitive because of his trauma, or is everyone else underreacting because of their trauma? (Should he sign them all up for therapy, quite probably, yes.)

So, you could perhaps argue that Jason experiences body horror in the sense that he doesn't remember all the pieces of who he used to be. (Speaking as someone with severe memory loss from medical trauma, it's certainly a type of horror.) But I don't think it's because he's detached from it physically or doesn't feel in control of his body. I think it's his mind that worries him.

His body he can control. It's his mind that still sparks green sometimes.

---

*Re the scene with Tim when Tim calls the Talons monsters. "What about me? Do you think I'm a monster?"

No, they don't.

But Jason does. And it scares him shitless.

[save-the-villainous-cat]

Absolutely in love with your writing, I've been scrolling through the hero×villain tag and holishit it's just you, that's insane, you're awesome. I'm not sure if you still do asks? But if so I was wondering if you could do some flirty!villain × touch starved!hero? Spice is always welcome in any flavor but no pressure on it

“So.” The villain tilted their head and let their eyes flutter open. “What exactly is the problem?”

The hero looked simply awful.

Their eyes were wide open, they were sweating. They’d been clenching their jaw ever since they’d taken a step into the villain’s office.

“…I am here for negotiation purposes only,” the hero said. They pushed the file they’d been holding across the table. “I just need your signature on page five, then I’ll be out of your hair.”

The hero looked out of the window. They bit the inside of their cheek.

And the villain didn’t even look at the file. As if the little show unfolding in front of them deserved less attention than pieces of paper.

On purpose, the villain sighed audibly.

The hero’s gaze returned to them.

“Negotiation.” The villain stood up. “Negotiation stems from negotium. Do you know what that means?”

They walked around the table until they were standing right in front of the hero. They leaned against their desk, their tailbone pressed against its edge, and stared at their lovely nemesis who had adopted the usual deadpanned face.

“Ugh, you and your word games.”

“Negotium can be translated as business. Employment.” They gently brushed the hero’s jaw. “…affair.”

The hero looked away.

“I’m not interested in business right now. Something is troubling you. I didn’t want to say this, but this file could have been an email. You came here because you wanted to see me. So.” The villain brushed the hero’s bottom lip with their thumb. “Don’t be shy now. Tell me what it is.”

“I…” The hero was a very lovely person. The villain knew how capable they were, how talented. However, they had also noticed that their nemesis was a little…lost? Lonely?

The hero didn’t seem to fit in with other heroes that well. Their teamwork was incredibly lacking and they preferred to work on their own. However, they had slowly started to open up to the villain.

Which the villain could have used to their advantage.

Unfortunately, the hero intrigued them a little too much.

And they had already made out before. Once. Maybe twice. The villain’s eyes narrowed. Technically three times. How horrible.

So, the villain was a little attached now. (Which wasn’t a good sign, the villain hoped they could sleep that off in the next few weeks.)

“What is it, dearest?” the villain asked again, their fingers pushing some loose hair out of the hero’s eyes. They didn’t even notice how their voice dropped, didn’t notice how they were basically purring for the hero again.

“There’s…there’s this bounty on my head. I wasn’t aware of it until yesterday. I couldn’t sleep, I’m…so afraid of going home. I mean, yes, I can defend myself perfectly fine but if there are five people on rooftops, trying to shoot my head off? How on earth am I…” They rubbed over their eyes. “My anxiety is going crazy and I…I’m sorry, I don’t know what I’m asking for.”

“You must trust me a lot, then. After all, I could end you right here.” The villain let their fingertips go over the hero’s throat now. Gently. Very gently.

Christ, the hero was so pretty to look at.

“Yeah, I thought…I mean, you and me, we…what we did, what we have, I know it’s not normal per se, so I thought you could give me some advice or something…”

“Well, I think it’s totally reasonable to be scared. You’re a target of high interest. So, logically you’re in a lot of danger.”

The hero took in a shaky breath, nodding.

“But I also think you’re safe here. Who knows what happens when you freak out? Maybe you end up losing control over your powers, maybe you end up hurting people. So, breathe in. Breathe out.”

The hero did.

“There we go. Easy.” The villain touched their cheek. “It’s okay.”

Suddenly, the hero stood up from their seat and leaned over, making the villain’s heart drop. They grabbed the villain’s wrists.

“Can you…I mean, would you help me with this?” Those damn puppy eyes. “Please, I just…”

The hero guided the villain’s arms to rest on their shoulders and the villain couldn’t help but bury their fingers in the hero’s hair.

“I don’t know how to deal with a bounty and you…you make me feel so secure, I know I shouldn’t.” The hero’s eyes dropped to the villain’s lips. Oh God, why was their heartbeat stuck in their throat? The villain’s eyes widened. They weren’t supposed to get attached to an enemy. “…I can’t help myself, I think of you all the time.”

“Is something else on your mind? This doesn’t seem to be bounty related,” the villain murmured. “Your heart is beating pretty fast and you’re blushing.”

Come on. Confess, so I don’t have to.

The hero let their head drop and rest on the villain’s shoulder.

“…like I said, you calm me down.” the hero said. Their voice was quiet now. “…what we did on Friday, can we do that again?”

“Right now? In my office?” The villain’s mouth curled into a smile.

“If it’s not too much trouble. I felt really good afterwards.”

“Fine. Take your clothes off,” the villain said. “And try to stay quiet this time.”

[lune-redd]

Hello, it's Lelly.

As you may know, I have recently deactivated my Twitter account. A lot of people are speculating I left because I was being harassed for drawing my older depiction of Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls as chubby. However... that's not the direct reason I left. In fact, I didn't really see much of the comments of folks on there getting riled up about it as I muted the tweet the morning I saw that it blew up. I was only merely aware of it all by being told about it from friends, with there being some other users on the site making other really fuckin' stupid comments about my art.

This does however lead into why I actually left Twitter, and it's because of Twitter's overall toxic nature. Overtime, I've really gotten sick of how absolutely revolting Twitter has become to experience. The site is basically built around dunk culture and doom scrolling. You know that one tweet of someone making an example of Twitter's utter stupidity by using pancakes and waffles as an example?

I bring this up because I think this fits my point about how Twitter has this thing of assuming the absolute worst about the most insignificant things, even the most innocuous. The "Bubbles obesity" comments weren't the only stupid comments that came out of that post. I also got a quote retweet that I was "forcefully feminizing Buttercup", even though the whole fucking point of that drawing was to depict a usually tough character in an unusual situation for her. I have also gotten stupid comments on other drawings though, like the one where Mitch pushes Buttercup down for trying to look taller than she is and I got called a misogynist for it, though I'm pretty sure that one was bait (Twitter users have a tough time figuring out what is and isn't bait, it's dunk culture that I'm about to talk about really doesn't help this).

The site's dunk culture is also really fuckin' bad. Quote retweets are a disease, as unlike Tumblr's reblog comments, quote retweets count as a different post. Someone disagrees with you? Show your audience how stupid they are on your page! Hey, are you trying not to see the most abhorrent racist statement imaginable? Well TOO BAD FUCK YOU here's a le epic own giving them all the attention in the world even though one of the most common internet rules are DON'T FEED THE FUCKIN' TROLLS YOU IDIOT. Oh hey, are you trying to explain how you prefer a certain artistic choice over another in something you like? Well you're a deranged ungrateful whiny nitpicker, get owned!

I've seen so many of my friends be belittled for simply discussing their artistic preferences of things they're passionate about. I had a friend who said he prefers the original Crash Bandicoot design over his redesigned look in Crash 4, and had legitimate reasons for why he felt that way (even if he didn't really explain them clearly), and he got dunked for it which made me mad. I'm sick and tired of it all. The reaction to my art is only a mere example of the shit I despise about that site.

I had been planning on leaving Twitter for quite some time, as my follower count was growing nearer and nearer to 10K. I had planned on leaving after 10K followers because that amount was wayyyy too fuckin big for me to handle. I'm a young and growing lad, and I felt it wouldn't be good for my mental sanity to handle all that, so I dipped. The amount of attention I've been getting is simultaneously both wonderful and extremely overwhelming. Even the explosion of new followers and asks on here is quite the load! (Seriously, calm the fuck down y'all) I am very grateful for all the supportive asks I've gotten even though I won't be able to answer them all, thank you all so very much.

tl;dr I didn't leave Twitter because I was being harassed or anything, but rather because of the site's overall toxic and belittling environment.

Adios.

-Lelly

[does-it-introject]

... is an account dedicated to introjects, fictives, factives, faitives, songtives, ... tives!

Here's the basic idea: Each post includes a source and a poll; if your system has someone from the source you go 'YES', if not you go 'NO'. If you're not plural you go 'RESULTS'.

Why? Because I think this is fun. Don't take it serious! Don't think too hard about it! You can even use it to find source mates if you want? All up to you!

"Oh but [NAME] what counts as "from the source"?" "Do fictionkin count?" "Does ... count?" YES. Everything counts, if you want. Don't think! Just press little buttons and clarify or don't clarify in your reblog if you want! I'm not gonna limit your button pressing experience!

Is there a DNI? No! It's a poll account. Who cares about who interacts. Just don't go around being an asshole and we're fine!

Requests are always open! Unless they're closed!

Yes, the profile is the fictive flag, but this account is for all of you tiny beings; I just really love this flag so... yea man!

Small, growing QNA below the cut!!

"Can you add a button for 'unsure' / 'used to' / 'maybe' / 'not interacted with source'?" - I appreciate the questions, but I'd prefer to keep the polls limited to these options! I get the frustration though. Just click whichever option feels right to you, and if neither feels right you can always click 'RESULTS'.

"How many requests can we send it?" - Go crazy! Go wild! Send 100 requests in one ask or 100 requests in 100 single asks! I don't mind either way!

"Are there any requesting rules?" - My only condition is: do NOT expect me to know what "TIAEOWNTDLOL" means as an acronym. Write the full name, I beg of you, my oh so dear requester. I had to delete three asks because I had no idea what the letters meant. Extra Note: I give you a cookie if you write (game / show / band) in your request.

"Are there any forbidden sources?" - No, where's the fun in that? Request whichever! Also, yes, factive sources are absolutely welcome and appreciated here as well! Adult sources are okay as well, but will be tagged accordingly to keep the younger people safe!

"Can I request a source you already made a poll about?" - Yes, if the original poll is atleast a month old! I will let it rerun if people want it!

"Can singlet fictionkin / IRLs / ... vote in the polls?" - Sure, if you want! You guys are just as cool as everyone else so go ahead and press that little button!

"Can you post more polls a day?" - I do not want to spam the tags with polls that not everyone might want to see. 4 is the maximum posts a day. Okay? Yea!

"Why didn't you post trigger warnings for this media?" - I add trigger warnings to media I assume to possibly contain triggering content from the images / name or ones I am actively aware of. If you believe a media I posted should get TWs and be hidden under a cut, please let me know in my asks or dms and tell me which elements specifically so I can add them after posting.

[the-broken-pen]

Can you do a villian with owl characteristics

The hero landed on the rooftop, and then had to stifle an immediate shriek as the villain–well. Not…turned, exactly, from their place sat on the edge of the roof, just…looked backward. With that, unfortunately, all too familiar disconnect between their head and their body. 

“God, I hate it when you do that,” the hero managed, and the villain blinked their slightly too big eyes at them, before grinning. 

“I am aware,” the villain said, and despite how often the villain had done exactly this, turning their head far past the “normal head turn ability”, it still took the hero a second to readjust to the sight. 

“Why on earth do you do villainy when you could make so much money working in the haunted house industry,” the hero said, and the villain squinted at them.

“Because I don’t want to work in the haunted house industry.”

“You could be making a lot of money,” the hero said, and the villain’s mouth twitched.

“What, and you would know? In all your freetime, spent being a clown?”

“I do not spend my freetime being a clown, you little shit–”

“You give distinct clown energy,” the villain observed, and the hero was literally never going to get over this in their entire life–

Footsteps, light an airy, dropped onto the roof behind them, and the hero had to stop themself from pinching the bridge of their nose like an exhausted mother.

“I thought,” the hero grit out, more tired than angry, “I told you to wait over there.”

“Did you?” Their sidekick said, and the hero could hear the grin on their voice even before they appeared in front of them. “Can you cite your sources on that one, chief?”

“Cite my sources–no. No, I am not citing my sources, and I am not doing this right now. Go back over there,” they gestured towards a rather distant rooftop, and their sidekick emitted an impressive pout.

“You do give clown energy,” their sidekick said petulantly, and the hero felt their mouth drop open slightly.

Yeah. They were never going to recover from this one.

“So help me god, if you–”

Their sidekick let out something akin to the unholy baby of a gasp and a squeal, eyes wide as they stared at the villain. “Oh my god that is so cool.”

The villain was making that tiny little smile when the hero looked at them, verging on the edge of soft. The hero was not in the least bit surprised.

“Hello.”

“You have wings,” their sidekick whispered, voice hushed and drowning in awe. They took a single step forward, as if the villain had some kind of magnetic draw to them, pulling the hero’s sidekick in.

“I do,” the villain confirmed. “Do you want to see?”

The hero had never seen their sidekick move that fast in their life. 

“I should have left you home,” the hero sighed, and their sidekick shot them a look that could have drawn blood. The next second, the villain was taking the sidekick’s hand in theirs, guiding it gently over the feathers of their wing. Their sidekick was, appropriately, awed, and the hero was doing their very best to not look too put out by it.

I’m their favorite, the villain mouthed over the sidekick’s head, and the hero had to use all of their very strong and wonderful and saintly will-power to not punt the villain off the side of the building and then ground their sidekick for the next seven years.  

“You are way cooler than them,” the sidekick confided with absolutely zero effort to lower their voice in any shape or form. “Like, way, way cooler. It’s kind of impressive. You’re lapping them with your cool-ness.”

“You are a wretched child, and I disown you,” the hero said, and the sidekick grinned at them.

“No you don’t.”

“I am ordering the papers as soon as we get home.”

“What papers,” their sidekick said. “There were no papers in the first place. You basically kidnapped me, a poor, helpless little street orphan, and shoved me into this ridiculously colored supersuit to do all of your dirty work for you–”

“You are not a street orphan,” the hero said, exasperated, and the villain, goddamn them, was still smiling. “Your mother is a teacher and you live in a three story townhome on the north side. Also, I distinctly remember you picking those colors, and then forcing me to find and dye the fabric for it.”

Their sidekick squinted, somehow mimicking the villain perfectly, before shrugging. “Can’t prove it.”

“I will call your mother right now–”

“Oh, and tell her about the superhero escapades? Yeah, okay, boss, you get right on that.”

“If your mother hasn’t recognized you and your snotty little mouth on the news by now, there’s no helping her.”

“My mouth is not snotty.”

“What? Sorry, I can’t hear you. I’m actually unable to hear whining and sass, in case you were wondering.”

Their sidekick let out an outraged little squawk, with a look in their eye that definitely meant they were one second away from tackling the hero, before the villain, still grinning, intervened.

“You know, if you ever get tired of them, I could always use a sidekick.”

Their sidekick whipped around, before going very still. “Really?”

The villain nodded, and the hero raised a hand in an attempt to stop the possible catalyst of the end of the world from occurring. “Okay, there is absolutely no way they can be your sidekick. One, you’re literally evil, and two, they don’t even have wings.”

Their sidekick visibly deflated at the last part, blatantly human shoulders slumping.

“That can be fixed,” the villain said easily, and the hero hauled their sidekick backwards before they could volunteer themself as the next test subject in the villain’s secret and probably insane scientist laboratory. 

“You are not bioengineering and then grafting a set of wings onto their body,” the hero said firmly, arms full of a squirming and outraged sidekick, who let out a whine.

“Oh my god you are no fun. I take it back, I’m going to disown you.”

The villain laughed. 

“You can’t disown me, you are literally a child.”

“Emancipation is a thing,” the villain offered, and the hero shot them a look as their sidekick attempted, and succeeded, to elbow them in the face.

“You are not helping.”

“In what world would you think I was trying to be helpful to you? Just curious,” the villain said, blasely, and their sidekick laughed before kneeing the hero in the vague direction of a vital organ. 

“Ow. Okay, okay, look, I am so proud you’ve been paying attention in training, but can you please stop trying to do permanent damage to me and my organs? They don’t like that very much. Or at all. Fuck–” their sidekick managed another impressively well aimed hit and the hero promptly dropped them like a sack of potatoes onto the rooftop. Their sidekick, stunned, waited a moment, wide eyed as they blinked up at the hero.

The hero maybe, possibly, did not feel bad, and was also maybe, possibly, going to have bruises. 

“Did you just try to gentle parent me?”

“Did the dropping feel gentle?” The villain questioned, and the sidekick looked like they were trying to muster up tears and failing.

“Did you just drop me?”

The hero rubbed a hand over their brow. “Don’t attack my organs and I won’t drop you.”

“You picked me up!”

“And you tried to literally sell yourself to an evil scientist.”

“There was no selling involved,” the villain interjected, remaining undeterred by the hero’s glare. “I do not participate in human trafficking.”

The sidekick made a flailing sort of gesture. “See! No human trafficking. I’ll even sign a waiver!”

“They are a minor,” the hero hissed at the villain, who once more, shrugged. They looked like they were trying very hard to hide a laugh. “They cannot legally sign that. Do not make me suplex you.”

Their sidekick stilled. “Wait, I kind of want to see that. Keep talking.”

“No,” the hero reprimanded, and their sidekick rolled their eyes. “Absolutely not. Who raised you to be so violent?”

“You did,” their sidekick said, and this time, the villain failed to hide their laugh. Their wings ruffled with the motion, and their sidekick’s attention was immediately drawn back. A second later, the pout reappeared, and the hero sighed. 

“Fine,” the hero said, and something akin to manic glee began to shine on their sidekick’s face. “But,” the hero added, and their sidekick groaned, flopping backwards onto the roof. They covered their face with their hands as they groaned. “No experimentation until your eighteenth birthday. You have to ask your mother first. And no time traveling to your eighteenth birthday, no age potions, no begging your speedster friends to run you there, no time vortexes, no trying to gaslight me into thinking you’re eighteen, and absolutely no attempting to get your age changed in the eyes of the government.”

The villain’s brow raised perpetually higher, while the sidekicked simply groaned again. “You never let me have any fun, you’re the worst, the absolute worst, nobody has ever suffered as much as I am right now–”

“I think you covered all of the bases,” the villain said, looking faintly impressed. 

“This is not the first time something like this has happened,” the hero said dryly. “Please do not give my sidekick wings.”

The villain eyed the hero’s sidekick, who was still moping rather dramatically on the ground. “I dunno. I’m kind of wondering what they’ll come up with to make it happen before their eighteenth birthday. And if they do manage it I kind of feel like that means they earned it.”

“Villain,” the hero hissed, and the villain simply laughed, popping their legs back over the edge of the roof and brushing off their legs as they stood up. 

“Oh, relax,” they murmured when they got close enough. “I would never. But you have to encourage children’s dreams, even if you don’t think they’ll happen. Or, at least, you won’t let them happen. It’s good for their development.”

“That,” the hero said pointedly, towards where their sidekick was throwing a tiny tantrum on the ground still. “Is not a child. That is a moody teenager who needs to work off some issues in their school drama program. Do not encourage them.”

The villain paused for a moment, considering. “Nah. I’m going to encourage them.”

The hero groaned, shifting to drop their head onto the villain’s shoulder. The villain’s wing came around to give them a gentle pat on the shoulder. “There there. Parenthood is hard.”

“I am not a parent.”

“Your creature has imprinted on you like a baby duck. Best of luck with that.”

“I am not a creature,” their sidekick protested from the ground. “I am a critter or eldritch horror at best.”

“Exactly what a creature would say,” the hero sighed, head still slumped onto the villain’s shoulder, and their sidekick let out a wordless shriek of rage from the ground. 

The hero allowed themself one more moment spent half wrapped in the villain’s wing before pushing themself off. They grabbed the center of their sidekick’s super suit, hoisting them onto their feet. “Alright, up you get. I’m calling it for tonight.”

Their sidekick kicked them in the shin. The hero simply looked at them. “Spoilsport.”

“You have a math test tomorrow. If you fail that because you didn’t sleep well your mother will literally skin me alive. Go on. Tell me she wouldn’t.”

The sidekick sighed. “Okay she totally would but also–”

“Nope. That was a complete sentence.”

Their sidekick was not bothered. “--Teenagers don’t even sleep anyways, so really, you’re fighting for nothing.”

“You took a four hour nap on my balcony yesterday,” the hero said, and their sidekick glared at them.

“Napping is not sleeping. It’s an entirely different thing. Like, it’s a vacation. Sleep is if I moved there, to another state or whatever. Dimension, Ohio, doesn’t matter. A nap is like a quick little visit and a pop back.”

The hero stared. “You are speaking a language I don’t understand.”

The villain barked a laugh. The hero watched their sidekick preen slightly, and vowed to murder the villain at the first opportune moment.

“That is absolutely enough out of you,” the hero said, then pointed a finger at their sidekick before they could say exactly what the hero knew they were about to. “Do not start reciting the First Amendment to me, you little heathen, do you know how many laws you break on the daily?”

“Vigilantism is illegal,” their sidekick said. The hero’s face must have done something truly horrific and parental in nature, because their sidekick winced, and, wisely, shut up. 

“I pinkie promise to do no more crime tonight,” the villain said helpfully, and the hero didn’t bother to turn around. 

“You’re a terrible liar.”

“Maybe, but did it make you feel better?”

The hero hauled their sidekick up onto their shoulder, ignoring the attempted fatal moves their sidekick immediately began cycling through.

“Actually, kind of. So. Thank you for that. Now, I’m going to go drop this thing off at home–”

“I have a name!”

“And possibly apologize to their mother,” the hero finished. The villain simply nodded, like that was the perfectly natural thing to do. 

The villain watched the hero’s sidekick for a moment, before allowing a tiny smirk to play at the corners of their mouth. They’re like a baby you, the villain mouthed once more. 

“Never say that to me again,” the hero warned, but secretly, it made them feel a tiny bit warm. Yes, this is my heathen child creature, and I love them very dearly and want to drop them off a building.

Their sidekick attempted to rear their head around to see the villain, and failed spectacularly. “Wait, what did they say? Hero. What did they say, I want to know, hero, hero,” the sidekick began, and the villain watched, eyes luminous in the black, as the hero slid back into the darkness of the night, their sidekick’s voice fading all the while.

“Hero!,” the sidekick shrieked again. And the villain grinned.

[couch-potato28]

Imagine being a Blue Lock manager! ⚽️

SPECIAL VERSION I.

(a/n: lmao SURPRISE!! 2 special ver. are coming before I actually end this series. Am i still a bit attached? Sure. Do I know wtf was happening towards the end of the ep? Absolutely not. But do try to enjoy it, tyy 🫶)

Warning-none

wc: 1k

also: @ttheggrimrreaper @irethepotato @ohagiyoo 🤞

——————

FROM THE PROLOGUE:

"Congratulations L/N Y/N! Based on your results, you've earned your place as the manager of…

…the U-20 team’s captain, Oliver Aiku!”

You read the neatly printed sentence over and over, the thin card getting more wrinkled with each passing second as your grip tightened around it.

“Is this a joke?” you glanced up to Anri, who nervously looked away before exhaling.

“No, not really.” she said, holding your hand as she continued. “Your scores are extremely impressive, Y/N. Skills that can handle great players, even better than the ones in the facility.”

“Flattery won’t work.” you said, eyes narrowing at her.

“Yes, I understand but the thing is…they need someone capable to handle the captain, and you seemed to be the perfect person to fill in that role. So please for the sake of the facility, accept the offer! They paid us a huge amount for you, it could change your life, and most importantly Blue Lock’s future!”

“…fine.” you hesitantly agreed after minutes of silence, her eyes practically begging you to do it.

Imagine being Oliver Aiku’s manager.

——————

Oliver Aiku—captain of the current Japanese youth team, a well-known figure on the field—is currently shaking your hand as you go over the introductions. A polite smile graces his lips, two-toned eyes locked onto yours, and for a split second, you’re almost certain he gives you a wink.

The conversation flows easily, his friendliness and relaxed demeanor screaming experience with the opposite gender, which you definitely take into account. Nothing serious to worry about—he seems to know exactly where the line is, fully aware that this is purely a professional relationship, and that getting romantically involved with each other is basically forbidden.

You later leave with a satisfied smirk, knowing damn well that paycheck at the end of the month is going to make up for all your worries.

——————

•Let’s get this straight—soccer star Aiku, and normal, everyday Aiku are two very different people. There’s no doubt about in when you see a shift in his personality during the time he’s on the field compared to how he usually behaves when he’s just himself.

•As he’s playing, the essence of being the captain of a team truly shines, his words and actions clearly showing responsibility, and sportsmanship to your surprise, proving exactly why he’s the one to lead the team.

•Luckily professionalism as an athlete is also a great trait of his, interviews, commercials, photoshoots—he does all of them perfectly while balancing training, practice matches, attending meetings and such.

•Aiku who’s always one of the first to arrive in the morning, rarely ever being late. He takes his role seriously, and always manages to hype up the others during the early training sessions. His stats are the result of diligence and hard work—and his usual performance? Impeccable.

•Actually a down to earth person and quite realistic, not really sugarcoating his opinions. He will stand up against anything he deems offensive, or unfair so you don’t even have to worry about getting harassed at work. Kind of like a guard dog, he’s super friendly and easy to approach but really protective when things get tough.

•Now, regular Aiku feels like the complete opposite of his other self—if you could even call it that. Caught with different women each month, his name is a regular on scandal lists in contrast to his polished image as an athlete.

•He’s a walking dating rumor magnet yet somehow, he manages to keep the line between being an athlete and a womanizer dangerously blurry. A real pain in the ass.

•This is probably the biggest hassle as his manager ‘cause other than that he’s fine. Attends events like usual, strictly follows schedules, and gives amazing answers to the reporters to work with. He would be perfect to manage if really he could just—

•“Stop going out with a different person every two weeks. Please. Or atleast cover your damn face for the sake of your reputation Oliver!”

•One of the few topics where things can turn ugly between you two—arguments about his habits, with him usually staying silent most the time while you scold him for the nth time this week. He promises to change, to be better at hiding but—

•“The paparazzi are just too good these days”

——————

AFTER THE U20 MATCH…

•Aiku realizes how much more he really has to improve on himself, finally putting more focus on training than flirting with girls in his free time—it starts slow but the change is evident.

•He gets a lot better, trying out new ways to train, pushing himself to the limit as you watch him rank higher with each match the team plays. It’s great to see him so determined to win, enjoying the sport with a smile.

•You two get to spend even more time together, and he starts to pick up on the little things he never really noticed before—your favorite color, your go-to snacks, the habits you have when you’re nervous, or how you always throw a glare at his best friend, Sendou, whenever he brags about his dates.

•With the new team comes new friends, and you already knew he’d adapt to the change with ease. New tactics, formations, and goals—it’s a fresh start for him, a whole new beginning.

•Aiku, surprised or not, actually keeps his promise and stops hanging out with different people every night of the year instead using his flirting techniques on you now. It’s starts subtle—like standing too close, or brushing his fingers against yours while you ramble about your day.

•Yet you don’t trust him. Of course you do notice how his antics are now obviously directed to you along the changes in his behavior but the trust issues? They run far too deep, and you don’t want to hurt yourself nor him even when he swears to you he’s changed.

•“Look, I haven’t contacted any of them for months now! I can even delete their numbers if you want me too!” he says one night as the team goes to celebrate their victory.

•“Mmh, good job. Keep that up, and maybe I’ll give you a chance.” you reply, something tugging your heart at the way he looks at you.

•“Yes ma’am.”

•It takes a while before you two get together, going through a few hardships along the way. He loves telling everyone how you fought off a stalker of his on your first date, and how it ended with the two of you at the police station—where he officially asked you to be his girlfriend.

•It’s a core memory that he just can’t stop himself from spilling in interviews—causing even more trouble to his manager, and now lover than before. Though, the fans are thrilled to make couple edits of the two of you.

[suzukiblu]

WIP excerpt for Cheshire behind the cut; "think pink", a.k.a "Kon meets pink kryptonite and decides to fuck Tim and his boyfriend about it". This man knows what he's about, friends; we can't judge him for that. (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“I’m going to go find more towels,” Tim says abruptly, then turns around without lifting his head and heads towards the bathroom. It is . . . not especially illuminating, Kon’s gonna go with? Yeah, no; definitely not all that illuminating. 

“Uh . . .” He looks after Tim, then glances back at Bernard, who’s very obviously barely repressing laughter. “Are there towels I am not aware of on this boat? I really don’t remember there being that many towels on this boat.” 

“There are not, no,” Bernard says. “At least not the last time I did laundry, anyway.” 

“You do each other’s laundry?” Kon asks, not really sure what he thinks about that. 

“Technically I’ve done your laundry now too, if you were actually wondering where your clothes are and count, you know, the sheets and everything else we fucked into filth,” Bernard says with a shrug and a dismissive wave of his hand. Kon thinks if Tim does not actually marry this dude, he is never gonna forgive him for fumbling this one. 

“That’s actually disgustingly domestic of you, man,” he says. Bernard grins at him again, then reaches up and pinches one of his cheeks. 

“Look, if you’re gonna be busy being fucking adorable all weekend, I gotta channel my cuteness aggression somewhere,” he counters reasonably. “So like my options were domestic chores or fucking you awake and that one seemed rude since we didn’t talk about that kind of thing when we did our quickie negotiations.” 

Kon briefly considers the idea of waking up feeling either Bernard or Tim already inside him and then wonders exactly how cold Tim’s shower gets. Probably not cold enough to let him have a normal response to that idea, yeah. 

Goddamn invulnerability. 

“I mean, like–I wouldn’t have complained,” he says, trying to at least sound normal about it. 

He kinda does not sound normal about it, yeah. 

“Right, well, that’s a core memory now,” Bernard mutters under his breath. “Good to know.” 

Kon laughs, feeling his face flush redder again. Just . . . goddamn, that’s flattering. Like–Bernard says a lot of flattering shit, is all. And Kon’s used to joking around with people a lot, even while he’s flirting them up, but usually the people he’s joking around with aren’t using the opportunity the way Bernard’s been. Like–usually it’s like the teasing and ribbing and roasting kind of joking, but Bernard’s been being, like . . . 

Flattering, again. 

Being–complimentary, basically. 

It’s kinda weird, getting talked up like that. Joking and flirting, yeah, but also like . . . he doesn’t know. Pink kryptonite-themed supervillainy and club jackets and jokey future fantasies and custom sex toys and . . . 

Bernard really does keep doing that, doesn’t he. Like–getting teased by Bernard’s been the literal opposite of getting roasted, really. 

So just . . . flattering, yeah. 

Tim does, in fact, come back with more towels, which Kon is not convinced he didn’t steal from a neighbor via Bat-drone or something just to have an excuse to cover for whatever that whole “ngh” thing a minute ago was over. Like, that would just be a very “Tim” kind of solution to that kind of thing, is all. 

“Where did those even come from, babe?” Bernard asks, wrinkling his nose. “Are those even yours?” 

“Yes,” Tim says with literally zero tells or signs of lying. 

So like, he’s definitely lying, yeah. 

“Uh-huh,” Kon says, raising his eyebrows at him. Tim continues to show absolutely zero sign of lying or any hint of guilt or shame or hesitation. 

“Shower’s ready,” he says. 

“Did you buy those?” Bernard asks incredulously. “I–how, babe?!” 

“God, you’re such a fucking weirdo, Rob,” Kon says, and really cannot keep himself from sounding like a fond fucking dumbass about it. The fact he can think of like six different ways Tim would buy some weird random thing he needed for whatever weird random purpose just off the top of his head does not make him feel any less like a fond fucking dumbass, though. 

This absolute friggin’ nerd, for frick’s sake. 

“I have no idea what either of you are talking about,” Tim says. “Which of you wants first shower?” 

Kon glances reflexively towards Bernard, who just shrugs. 

“Up to you, buddy, you’re the guest here,” he says. 

“Uh,” Kon says, and then has the very weird experience that is not actually being able to decide if he wants something as basic as the first shower or not. Like–not even in the sense of feeling like he needs to pick “right” or whatever, just . . . like, there’s kinda just . . . 

Like it’s just–not working, is all. Which, like . . . what the fuck? 

Kon tries to make his stupid useless brain work, or at least make his stupid mouth say–something, even just “sure” or “whatever’s good” or “naw, you pick” or even fucking “rock paper scissors you for it?” or  . . . just, like–just anything, at this point. 

And Tim . . . tilts his head a little. 

“Mm,” he says, his eyes tracking something across Kon’s face that makes Kon immediately regret having a face and also makes him immediately want to stick said face in Tim’s face. “We really have been scening a lot, haven’t we.” 

“Uh . . . kinda, I guess,” Kon says, still feeling–weird, kind of. Just . . . like the thoughts just won’t connect, or like he’s forgotten how to just . . . how to . . . 

He doesn’t know. Just–like he’s forgotten something, kinda. 

Which, yeah, forgetting something is totally a thing that Kon is cool and good and fine with doing and feeling and not at all freaked-out by or–

“Why don’t we let Bernard go first, then,” Tim says less like a question and more like an order, and that whole stupid useless brain that’s been refusing to work in Kon’s head just immediately rolls over and goes belly-up and bares its throat and wants Tim to pet it, ideally with Robin’s gloves on. So that’s, like, a thing. 

And it’s specifically a thing that really clears out Kon’s stupid useless thoughts, because it immediately feels like every single smoldering ember of anxiety and uncertainty and weird stupid senseless bullshit just waiting to flare up somewhere in there just went out all at once, easy as blowing out a candle. 

Yeah. That’s really a fucking thing. 

[am-i-the-asshole-official]

😴😴😴 (to find later) AITA for putting sleeping pills in my boyfriend's drinks without him knowing?

I know this sounds absolutely awful, but please bear with me.

Basically, me (27 m) and my boyfriend (26 m) have been living together for around five years, meaning we usually also sleep together. Or at least we try, since my BF suffers from terrible insomnia and reoccurring nightmares so bad sometimes he wakes up into a full on anxiety attack. He does go to therapy and has prescribed sleeping pills, but he hates taking them because he's always afraid that when he does fall asleep he's just going to have nightmares, (which also just makes him avoid sleeping in general even not including his insomnia).

Usually I try to help him by staying up with him, watching his favorite show while cozied up on the couch under a bunch of blankets and with a hot coco, or we do something else that he likes and helps him relax. I really don't mind, I love him and I love spending time with him. However, it used to be that he would fall asleep at around 3-4 AM, but as time went on he started staying up longer and longer, until at a certain point I literally had to start leaving for work in the morning while he still hadn't gotten any sleep.

This was an issue for two reasons: 1. Obviously, without me there he felt even less comfortable and had an even harder time falling asleep, sometimes staying up for even 48 hours (or maybe more, I'm not sure) just to wait for me to come back home so I could help him unwind again. 2. He actually started lying to me about sleeping while I wasn't home, so that I would go to sleep normally and let him stay awake because "he wasn't tired" even though I could clearly tell he was.

That's when I started getting seriously concerned and questioning him about how much he actually sleeps, especially since I could see it was affecting him more and more both mentally and physically. He was avoidant about the topic but I pleaded with him to talk to his therapist about it, to try and find anything else to help him. Apparently his therapist just told him to keep using his sleeping pills to help with the insomnia, and if they're not working she'll look into prescribing him stronger ones. Yet despite that he still insists on not taking them and just going to bed normally even though it's clearly not working.

To clarify: as far as I'm aware, he has no negative side-effects from these sleeping pills, he's never complained about feeling any pain or feeling worse after taking them or anything like that. Literally he only doesn't want to take them because he's just that afraid of going to sleep.

That's why whenever we stay up nowadays, I always add a small dose to his cup of coco, which thankfully has a strong enough taste to cover the pills (I've tried a small bit myself and couldn't tell a difference). Since I started doing that, he's been regularly falling asleep before 2AM and even though the nightmares still sometimes wake him up or make him feel a bit tired in the morning, overall he's been doing much better.

Still, I do feel bad about putting stuff in his drinks without his knowledge even if it's for his own good. I really wonder if I should stop, but I'm really scared that if I do, he'll start spiralling again. I want to help him and be there for him but I've already tried talking about it and it never worked. So, AITA?

What are these acronyms?