#and then it became the actual tjing

[a-dumbass-jester]

Og post Im just going into detail^^

OK so I started tjis like over a year ago and i never put my thoughts down anywhere and at some point I lost my yttd hyper fixation and is now violently regaining it so some stuff might be a bit inaccurate

————

{Human to doll}

I came up with tjis hc/theory of how the human dummies and doll dummies are the same because:

One(1): tragedy and angst

Two(2): I didn’t rlly like that fact that they were two completely separate people (especially clones) so this somehow became a tjing

OK SO, right after the human dummies died Midori (being Midori) was like “hm I wanna see if I can transfer their human souls/ ghost/ spirit into their doll copy”

and then he did and because it’s asunaro it somehow works

Before the AIs were put in the dolls they were conscious but just couldn’t move without the ai put in.

Because the AIs gave them the ability to move and do basically everything their souls attached itself to the ai

(PLEASE bear with me)

As for Hinako I don’t rlly know how exactly she becomes a doll but I assume asunaro has a doll (and ai) copy of her (because why not) and Midori did a similar thing to her but her doll was like underneath the coffin or smth

Summary: the dummies human soul was transferred their doll copy after they died (all six(6) of them) and it latched onto the AIs

————

{how their all "alive"/ together}

OK so this whole thing centers around kurumada being the dummie that is still alive so he can miss the others and ask to see their AIs

Because everyone remembers everything and because everything asunaro rebuilds their dolls

This is also for selfish reasons to because they’ve literally gone from being human to doll and can and have experience the differences and uses them (as much as they hate it) as test subjects to test differences

Summary: kurumada is the only dummie left alive and he missed the others a lot so he asked so see their AIs

Asunaro then rebuilds their dolls after the death game 

————

Most of this ending actually focuses of after the game

Human dolls

Ok so most of the time after the game they stay at asunaro because:

One(1): their like legally (and physically) dead

Two(2): they’re dolls. They wouldn’t age , I would be weird if someone just stopped aging(ESPECIALLY the kids). They’re made of plastic so if anyone got hurt they would just crack (especially kurumada with him being a boxer)

So most they just stayed with asunaro

Sleeping(even though they don’t need to any more) in the rooms the participants slept in in chapter 2

Also since they would be staying there for god knows how long asunaro let them customize the rooms however they’d like

Also because Asunaro kinda did:

- Kill them

- Stuff them into dolls

- Take away any life or future they would’ve had

- Keep them here

(-experiment on them)

So asunaro’s kinda like “yeaaa, Soooorrryyyy about that” and like lets them to whatever they want. They’ll also like get them stuff from the store or smth if they want.

————

Floormasters

OK SO tjis part is basically like 100 years later of smth, Sara (who won and took over asunaro) has died and asunaro did another death game to have someone take her place.

The dummies were used as floormasters because:

One(1): The irony of having people who were victims of the last death game and turned in the ones in charge

Two(2): They didn’t rlly have anyone else so they just went with them

So asunaro whipped their memories, messed with their heads and personality’s and turned them into floormasters

(I have entire designs(kinda) and concepts on what they would be and look like)

————

Finally resting

So after they’re back to normal, and the new participants find out about all of this they set a plan to finally free the dummies and let them rest

The participants delete their AIs from the database(?) and set their dolls on fire so their no longer attached to their AIs and can be freed.

————

Ok!!! So there is that!!

Hope you enjoyed, i guess!!

This sounds kinda bad written but here I guess

I wrote this at like 3/4 am

[kitttenteeth]

it would actually be cool if you were more of a bitch and became an evil supervillain or something, i think you deserve it if you want

i think my parents were who they were to lay down the basis for my villain origin story But then i stumbled upon unreleased lana tracks too young nd my destiny changed from criminal to coquette. Which is the same tjing in my mind but i escaped that too so now i’m just a girl in her room

[serialexperiments33-blog]

my mom constantly compares me tl.my father and always has, and then the next beat will tell me how he was a narcissistic beater who abandons everything. meanwhile, when trying to talk to her about her daughters education and grades and stuff, my mom constantly finds ways to bring the conversation back to herself and her own progress, rather than focusing on her child and solutions to her troubles. even when i tried talking about my grammas visit- bam, it became about how badly they treated her and how i dont need to tell her anything because she knows everything about them already, but have you heard about this with her boyfriend brett or have you heard this story about your dad and what horrible things he did (the one that looks and acts just like you, taylor. youre no better than your dad, taylor. youre a horrible person, taylor.) basically, she ignores my suffering, ignores that i am victim to them too, ignores that her own son molested me for so long, even though i thought she would beliebe me and care because she was molested by her own brother too. she doesnt deny it which is somehow worse, nstead she tells me "what happened between you two isnt my business," even though it started while we lived in hopkins when i went to elementary school and she was my legal guardian. but her kid getting molested isnt any of her business, cause its not about her boyfriend

the first time i ever opened up to her about my suicidal ideations she slammed the door in my face. i was a kid and she said i was being manipulative. meanwhile i had been shing and was just trying to get help from someone i trusted. i learned that day that a mother is someone you cater to. a mother is someone you make sure you never step out of line with, a mother is someone who could never do wrong, who is only ever the victim. its always "im sorry you feel this way" or "im sorry you think that". i learned that nobody actually cares, and all this hatred i have towards mhself, all the tjings that happened to me, none of jt mattered, in fact if i ever attempted to open up about it or anything i was being a burden to others. i was a burden. and to this day its impossible for me to unlearn that. ive been trying, but i always end up getting so scared that i was too much of a burden, that i was disgusting, that it was my fault and i was asking for it and i was always a fucking tease, and i could never let it go, and now im 25 and get mistaken as 40, now im 25 and i am disgusting, now im 25 and irredeemable and filthy and unlovable.

in all honesty, i prefer my dad throwing things at me and yelling at me and locking me out of the house in negative degree weather and trying to come onto me. at least he doesnt make me feel like im making everything up. he would just buy me icecream so i wouldnt tell anybody.

[dxmthief]

i want to learn to make clothes so my fat bf can wear more sexy and cute stuff that actually fits him comfortavly , i think i can do it but im really bad at straight lines on a sewing machine and my wrists and hands often take extreme damage from normal amounts of sewing, i rm sewing hand paws the night before a con as a teen and by the time i was done with the first one, my whole thumb and other parts of my hand became so numb and stiff i could hsrdly move tjem without forcing myself and havong to stop because of it and needing to finish the other one in the car on the way to the con. they werent very complicated, really basic stitching and minimal markings and seams, no claws or anytjing crazy . i can draw and do other tjings literally for a whole day straight (tweaker) without starting to notice such strain til the end and ive pushed myself to a point where it makes sense that would happen. but sewing its like, i got like an hour or two, sometimes less, before it hits

[tiptapricot]

Age switch AU where Jason was Bruce’s first partner and is older than Dick

Read on AO3

Jason has been working with Bruce for years by the time Dick comes into the picture. The kid is small, athletic, and bright eyed, clashing horribly with the muted browns and reds of the manor.

And he takes an immediate liking to Jason.

Dick follows him everywhere, talking non stop and pestering Jason to play with him. It’s annoying. It’s annoying as shit. Jason really doesn’t have time for this, but Bruce insists that he spend time with Dick.

So he does.

And Jason doesn’t like Dick, he doesn’t, but he makes sure the kid stays out of trouble, knows his way around the manor, that sort of thing.

He doesn’t hang out with him because he wants to. He doesn’t help him with homework because he wants to. He does it because it’s what’s expected of him, because he’s told to. He and Bruce had been just fine before, Batman and Sparrow: The Dynamic Duo, but Bruce had decided to pick up another kid, and now Jason is stuck babysitting.

So what if Dick makes him laugh? So what if the kid has a fiery temper and a heart to match? So what if he makes the manor feel just a little bit brighter? It doesn’t mean Jason has to like him.

But he does.

Shit.

***

Jason calls Dick everything under the sun: Kid, Squirt, Bud, even ‘My little brother’ when talking to an interviewer one time (to Dick's utter delight).

And, surprisingly… it’s not that bad.

It’s great.

If he has spare time between school and patrol, Jason sits with Dick in the library and reads him his favorite stories. They fall asleep on the couch more often than not, but Jason doesn’t mind. Trips to the park become normal, Tuesday movie nights unskippable (“Sorry Old Man, no patrol tonight, I’m showing squirt Hercules.”), manor hijinks a worse pain in Alfred’s neck.

Dick becomes family, and as much as Jason doesn’t want to admit it, he fits perfectly.

***

When Dick finds out about Jason and Bruce’s nightlife, he’s ecstatic. He starts staying up every night to talk to Jason about patrol, eyes wide and shoulders shaking in excitement as Jason describes epic fights on the city’s building tops and long hours spent hiding in the shadows (he only embellishes the stories a little bit).

One morning, Dick triumphantly announces that he wants to grow up and be a crime fighter.

“I could be Robin, like my momma used to call me!”

And while the rest of the family is resolutely opposed to letting Dick anywhere near the hero life, they still let him wear Jason’s (much too big) costume from time to time.

“Guess this means you’re the ‘Baby Bird’ now, huh Squirt?” Jason says affectionately, ruffling Dick’s hair.

And Dick responds with the fiercest smile Jason has ever seen.

***

One night, Jason wakes up in the cave, head pounding, Dick sleeping softly by his bedside. He remembers going out with Bruce to bust a drug trafficking ring, but nothing much after that. If the bandages are anything to go by, he must’ve been knocked out cold.

He rouses Dick with a soft nudge, the boy blinking blearily at him for a few seconds before he sits bolt upright.

“You’re awake!”

Jason chuckles softly and props himself up on his elbows, the motion making his vision swim for a moment. “‘Course I am. Couldn’t leave you alone with the old man, could I?”

Dick lets out a watery laugh and pulls him into a hug.

“I thought… When Bruce brought you back, all bloody n’ stuff... I thought you were dead, Jay. I thought” Dick chokes on the last word and starts to cry, pressing his face into Jason’s shoulder.

“Oh Baby Bird, no no no, It’s okay, I’m alright, I’m here.” Jason whispers, rubbing comforting circles against the small of Dick’s back. “I’m so sorry I worried you Dick. Listen, look at me for a sec,” he pulls Dick off and looks him straight in the eyes, “nothing can hurt your big bro, alright kiddo?”

Dick sniffles and scrubs at his cheeks.

“You sure?”

Jason smiles and nods.

“Promise.”

***

The first time Dick gets kidnapped, Jason notices first.

They’re getting ready to leave a gala, late enough to have each made the required appearances, but still early enough to spark a few rumors. Jason is planning to drive Dick home on his motorcycle, because the kid just loves riding on the cycle, but he can’t seem to find him in the crowd.

Dick had said he was feeling a bit off earlier, but Jason had chalked it up to nerves. He’d gotten him another glass of apple juice from the bar and settled him in a seating area away from the main crowd. Jason had left Dick to continue socializing, expecting him to be back on his feet within a few minutes like he usually was, and hadn’t thought much of it. But now…

Now that little bit of paranoia, that piece he carries with him as both Jason Todd-Wayne and as Sparrow, nags at the back of his mind.

He finds Dick’s juice glass, still half full, sitting on the table, but nothing else out of the ordinary.

When he asks around, Jason can’t find anyone who saw where Dick went, and it’s then that his brain kicks into overdrive.

Jason grabs Dick’s juice glass, a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach, and steps to the side of the room. Smoothly, and as inconspicuously as he can manage with shaking hands, Jason pulls a small tablet out of his jacket pocket. It’s a modified version of the ones manufactured by Wayne Tech to detect date rape drugs, used for more potent poisons and sedatives. Bruce had given them to Jason once he’d started coming to parties, but they hadn’t given them to Dick yet.

The tablet fizzes red when it comes in contact with the drink and Jason curses under his breath, rushing back into the crowd.

He tugs Bruce away from a gaggle of reporters and pulls him quickly towards the exit.

“Jason what’s-?”

“It’s Dick. Someone’s got Dick.” And Jason tries to keep his voice level, but he knows Bruce can hear the slight rush of his words, the hint of panic.

“We’ll get him back.”

“I know.”

***

It’s hours before they figure out where Dick’s being held. Jason grows more anxious with each passing minute it takes to suit up, chest tight and breaths coming rough and stilted.

Bruce grabs hold of his arm just before they climb into the Batmobile.

“What are you doing?” Jason snaps. “We need to go!”

The grip tightens.

“You’re on edge, Jason, angry. I need you to calm down and focus."

Jason stills for a moment.

“For Dick’s sake.”

Jason knows, he knows, but when he sees Dick’s wide eyes, his wrists chafed from the ropes and cheeks wet with tears, he descends in the thugs in a flurry of rage.

Their jaws crunch under his fist, each bruising kick a little more satisfying than the last, a little harder. He keeps landing blows until Bruce grabs his wrist in a death grip, the expression of surprise clear even behind the mask.

Jason steps back and looks down at his bloodied gloves, red dripping over the black, and up to his little brother’s terrified stare and his stomach drops.

The ride home is silent.

***

“I don’t think I want to be a crime fighter anymore…”

It’s the first thing Dick has said since they got back to the manor, his voice soft and fragile under the comforter. Jason smiles weakly and pulls him into a hug.

“I’m sorry bud.”

“I know.”

***

Over the next few years, the arguments with Bruce get worse.

Jason is standing at the edge of his bed, shaky hands putting the last few things in his suitcase, cheeks still hot with rage, when a voice rings out from behind him.

“You’re leaving?”

Jason turns sharply to see Dick standing in the doorway, a pack of colored pencils and a sketch pad tucked under one arm.

“Bud, I-”

“You’re leaving?!”

Jason bites his lip. He can’t seem to find the right words, guilt gnawing at his gut. He has to explain, he has to make him understand.

“Dick… Bruce is... he and I, we... I don’t-” he swallows the words I don’t think I can live here anymore and lets out a long sigh.

“Baby Bird, I’m so sorry.”

But when he looks up Dick is gone, and a door slams from somewhere down the hall.

***

Cold concrete pressing against his cheek.

Blood dribbling over cracked, swollen lips.

His chest hurts.

His head hurts.

His body hurts.

How did he ever think he could do well on his own?

Another blow slams into his ribs and he screams, the sound dampening into a whimper.

How did he ever think he could amount to anything without Bruce?

Laughter echoes through the warehouse.

A door clicks shut.

Not even a year solo and he’d gotten captured.

Each breath is a labor.

His eyes sting.

His skin burns.

He pushes himself to his hands and knees and inches towards the exit, knees dragging against the floor.

The first try, his fingers slip uselessly off the door handle, leaving a smear of blood in their wake. The second try, he gets a good grip, ignoring the searing pain that erupts through his fingers.

Locked.

He hears the tick of a clock.

His breath hitches.

Pathetic.

Heat kisses his flesh and slides sharp fingers through his hair, enveloping him in a wave of fire that rips through his body.

And Bruce is too late.

And Jason is dead.

***

Bruce arrives back at the manor, to the darkness of the cave, at almost two in the morning. His gloves are still covered with flecks of concrete and wood, the dried blood thankfully too dark to see against the Kevlar.

The corpse is in the trunk of the car, sealed inside a body bag.

He has to figure out a cover story.

He has to plan a funeral.

He has to live with letting his son die.

Because Jason was so close, just a few miles outside of Gotham. If only he'd caught on quicker, driven faster, maybe... maybe. But he'll never know now, will he? Bruce takes a deep breath and tightens his hold on the steering wheel.

He shouldn't be thinking about this right now.

Dick and Alfred are waiting for him by the computer, both turning slowly when they hear him approach.

“Dad…” Dick's eyes widen, “where’s Jay?”

Bruce freezes.

He can’t. He can’t tell Dick right now. Not this soon, not when it’s so fresh he can still taste the smoke.

“Dad…? Bruce?” Dick stands up and takes a step forward. “You said you were going to save Jay, what happened? Where is he?!”

Bruce stays silent, letting Alfred usher an increasingly panicked Dick upstairs.

When he’s alone in the darkness of the cave, Bruce collapses in a chair and weeps.

***

Dick is quieter in the following months.

Most nights, Bruce is interrupted by screams from down the hall. He always gets to Dick as fast as possible, holds him close, and rocks him until he manages to fall back asleep.

After all, Bruce isn’t really sleeping anymore.

The dreams are too vivid.

He’s better off without them.

***

Dick doesn’t go down to the cave anymore, but Bruce has seen the costume, the one he stole. The one he stuffs in the bottom of his backpack when he goes to school, the one he carries around the manor, the one he fiddles with when he’s sitting in bed or doing homework.

Bruce sees the familiar brown and black and red, the colors that make his chest ache, but he doesn’t have the heart to have Dick put it back.

And so a little piece of Jason follows him wherever he goes.

***

Dick is furious.

Because Bruce can't be serious when he says this guy is going to be his new partner.

Tim Drake is tall and lanky, with dark hair and blue eyes so very much like Jason’s. He’s maybe four or five years older than Dick at most, with an obsession for photography and the gall to think he can become a hero.

Because what about Jason? Bruce can’t just replace him, not after everything that happened.

How could he?

Dick yells and screams, but it doesn't get him anywhere.

So instead he tries avoiding Tim as much as possible.

It’s not easy. Tim spends most of his time at the manor (even though he has parents, Dick notes), moving between the cave and the kitchen.

He always talks to Dick if they run into each other, carrying a pleasant conversation even if Dick makes a point not to respond.

“Hey Dick, how was school? I joined photography club today. I’m excited to show them my composition skills.”

“Oh hi! Do you want some cereal? I got some out for myself but I can pour you a bowl if you want.”

It's slow, but Dick starts to notice that Tim is actually… alarmingly comforting to have around. He doesn’t force his way into Dick’s life, he doesn’t make him reply when he talks to him, he’s careful about what he says, about how he talks about… the job.

And Dick’s thankful for that, even though he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to fully relax around Tim, he’s thankful. And it gets better… over time.

A year passes and Tim’s parents are killed. He moves into the manor and takes the room a few doors down from Dick’s, not Jason’s room, but close.

Dick knows Tim is struggling, not just with his parents’ deaths, but with the damage they left him with. He hears talking late at night, Bruce using the same, smooth, low voice he uses to calm Dick down when he’s scared. He can’t really make out words, but once or twice Dick is sure he hears Tim call Bruce Dad.

One morning, he and Tim lock eyes over the dining room table. It’s just them that morning, Bruce and Alfred having left much earlier for a company meeting in Metropolis.

Tim looks tired, the bags under his eyes darker than usual, his hair mussed and tangled.

They look at each other.

A moment passes.

Then another.

“‘M sorry about your folks.” Dick mumbles. “And ‘m sorry for being kind of a jerk.” He adds.

The corners of Tim’s eyes crinkle when he smiles.

“Thanks kiddo.”

And even though those words make Dick’s heart stop, make his hands tighten around the table cloth, he manages to hide it until he gets to his room.

There, he has privacy.

There, he doesn’t have to block out the images of dark hair and a wide smile and a loud laugh.

There, Dick still has Jason’s costume hidden under his bed.

He takes it out when he needs to talk.

“You wouldn’t believe what Tim did today. He gave away their position on patrol and got sent back because a thug broke his arm. That never would’ve happened to you, huh Jay? Nothing could ever hurt you.”

“The manor’s still so quiet. Remember that time we played tag and you broke one of Alfred’s tea pots? He was so mad. You grabbed my hand and we hid in the garden for hours. Remember that Jay?”

“Hey… I miss you.”

***

It’s a rainy night and the manor is quiet. Bruce and Tim are out on patrol, investigating a new string of chemical robberies, and Alfred has long since gone to sleep.

Dick is sitting on his bed with Jason’s costume spread out over his lap, crying quietly and rumpling the fabric between his fists.

It was the same nightmare he’s been having for the past two weeks. Jason is drowning in a pool of inky black liquid, sinking slowly below the surface. Dick tries to hold on, to pull Jason out, he always tries, but Jason slips into the darkness, just like he always does.

But this time… this time Jason had been screaming.

Dick can still hear it, the cries ringing in his head. Ear splitting, blood curdling, bouncing against his skull like a pinball.

He takes another shuddering breath, shoulders shaking.

He hasn’t had a nightmare like that in years.

Dick almost doesn’t hear it over the patter of rain.

Almost.

A light knock, coming from his window.

Dick stands up and hides the costume back under his bed, wiping uselessly at his cheeks as he makes his way to the window.

He pauses for a moment before opening the curtains, letting a faint sliver of moonlight spill into his bedroom.

Nothing’s there.

The world outside is dim and dark and filled with the distant sound of thunder.

Dick is about to turn away when something large crashes through his window, tumbling into the bookshelf next to his dresser. It takes a few seconds for him to recover, to make out the shape of a human in the dim light and see the glint of metal hidden under their jacket.

Dick retreats towards the door and watches as the stranger gets to their feet. The jacket is leather, thick and sturdy, covering a dark Kevlar body suit and several loaded holsters. Dick tries to make out a face, but the head is smooth and featureless, gleaming red in the low light from the window.

“Who are you? What do you want?”

The stranger takes a step forward, reaching out.

Dick takes a step back.

The stranger hesitates, hand recoiling, and settles awkwardly against Dick’s dresser.

After a moment of silence the stranger sighs.

“This isn’t how I wanted this to go.”

They shift and press a finger to the back of their helmet, releasing it with a soft hiss.

With the helmet removed, Dick can make out a mop of black hair and ginger roots, the outline of a mask, the curve of a jawline.

The stranger steps closer, face coming further into the light, and Dick feels fresh tears spill down his cheeks.

“Jay?”

“Hey Baby Bird. Sorry I took so long.”

[anantaru]

actually everyone in Luxiem is my favorite though I haven't watched Luca's stream. nonetheless, they're all my favorite. a package deal as I see them. the first one I knew was Ike who have this soft, doting big brother energy paired with his voice that is sweet as honey <3 very very squishy then next is papa daddy Vox, literal dad energy. then next is mysta, this guy is just hilarious. I'm not really a fan of loud people but he's an exception cuz somehow his voice is what's comforting me rn and it keeps me grounded when I feel like I'm falling apart. charr. Mysta has this unique charm that I can't pinpoint and it just draws me to him MY HEARTUE IS LAHAKAIAVAKAJ then there's Shu, very smart and someone who doesn't not swear a lot,, that's very attractive and that's why he became my ideal type and my role model. BUT MYSTA MAKES ME FEEL TJINGS✨ AND LUCA DEEZ NUTS POG HAHAHAHAH sorry sorry for yapping and its so messy,, kind of feeling down rn but seeing a Pic of mysta cheers me up so MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH MWAH if I can write and have the guys to post it I'm gonna write smth about Mysta and Heizou hehe HAVE A GOOD DAY!!!!! khoi

YOU NEED TO WATCH LUCA, he's a himbo istg 😭😭😭😭😭 and you're fine I love talking about them <3 you have a great day too khoi !! <3