#LIKE WHY DON'T MORE PEOPLE PAY ATTENTION TO THAT

[redjennies]

*long sigh*

all right this is one of my most resurrected posts and to be quite honest, i think most people get what I'm saying here, but it could be clarified because the second it gets away from a circle of people who get it, people seem to lose the thread pretty quick. it was about a trend I noticed regarding the types of fans C3 was both attracting and whose voices were being heavily elevated within the fandom. with the campaign ending, it only feels right to say my final piece about it and be done with it.

first, this post is about whose stories and voices are centered in fandom. it is not about the cast (though having a predominantly white, culturally Christian, US American cast does influence it because they are telling stories from that lens.) it is not even really about the characters, themselves, and whether this is. it's about the fans, and specifically, it is about the lack of compassion and desire to understand, I see a particular type of white (often for lack of better word, "WASP"-y: raised middle class, culturally Christian, and/or US American/English/Canadian/etc) queer fan extend to anyone who falls out of an extremely narrow lens of "this is the default queer experience" or heaven forbid, to people who are not queer but are marginalized in other ways.

it is about how this phenomenon happens because they have been trained to see their queerness as their only identity (and therefore, in their arrogance, the only identity that matters) as it is the only thing about them that deviates from that WASP-y "default." through this lens, stories that are not relatable to that audience are largely ignored unless they are exceptional enough to be the "Academy-Approved POC Film of the Year" to be tokenized by white liberal audiences and stories that do touch on queerness but are primarily about other things like race/class/disability/etc are whitewashed into something more palatable for that hegemonic "default" audience to the point where it is practically unrecognizable from the original story. this is not unique to CR. this happens across all audiences and therefore, all fandoms.

clearly, this phenomenon leads to a problem in fandoms. if we are not extending empathy to the characters and stories that discuss perspectives that may be different than our own, than we will not be extending empathy to the real breathing humans who see their experiences (or the experiences of people they have known) in those stories. there was this post or article about why we need better POC representation that I read way back in the day and have never been able to find again that really stuck with me that said something along the lines of "we don't need representation because no black person can relate to George Costanza or Rachel Green. we already do. the problem is that white writers and audiences do not relate to black people and that shows through the kind of black characters white writers create." and I think that sentiment is relevant to what I'm getting at here. a lot of white queer fans on tumblr are often half-listening when a story is told, choosing to only pay attention when things are about them because at the end of the day, they have the privilege to do so. therefore, the fanworks they create reflects that lack of interest. the metas and fanon they write reflect that lack of interest. soon enough, the fandom itself reflects that lack of interest.

and worse yet, because queer people are an oppressed group (and to clarify, I don't want to come across like I'm saying just because we're white queers, we're not "really oppressed" or whatever), this lack of interest and compassion for people who are different than you becomes actively celebrated in fandom spaces. you have relatively privilege white queer people on tumblr loudly proclaiming characters only matter if they're gay, stories only matter if they're queer, and so on and so on. which on some level is fine if you prioritize reading and watching stories that have to do with queerness, but you do need to be aware of a massive bias you may have to what "queer stories" even are and how you are interacting with them and who you are leaving out. a great example of this is why every time there's a black bisexual male love interest in a video game, y'all keep calling him "too straight" and therefore "boring" and then getting mad and defensive when someone calls you on it. like I mean-- hit dogs holler. ¯\_(*ツ)_/¯

anyway, I was going to close with tying this concept back into CR and how there was a rot that permeated C3 and how this attitude straight up alienated a lot of fans. (god knows I got shouted out of this fandom until it got so dully unpleasant that I couldn't bring myself to give a damn anymore, and sincerely, from the bottom of my heart, I hope everyone who participated in the near constant harassment I received for the great crime of maybe being annoying as I made my little jokes and shared my thoughts has a bad fucking life. fuck you. learn how to use the block button.) but @utilitycaster who has been following this campaign as well as other actual play shows a lot more closely than I have already touched on that in a pretty dead-on post that I highly recommend.

so here is what I will end on, the phenomenon I've been describing throughout this post is in no uncertain terms, a form of bigotry, and as far as the people who have to live with that oppression are concerned, a queer bigot is not any less harmful than a straight bigot, in the same way a female bigot is not any less harmful than a male bigot. so if you sincerely want to your spaces to be more inclusive and aren't just saying that to "do a leftism," you have to accept your own part in that, regardless of who you are. you have to stop and pay attention to what kind of perspectives you might be ignoring, and stop immediately shouting at people because you interpreted what they said in bad faith. you have to learn how to just shut up sometimes and be a little reflective. i'm not always great at that, but it's a skill you have to practice even if you fuck up. you can always change your mind with new information and new ideas and new perspectives, but if you instinctively chase off everyone who might be willing to talk about something you've never considered before because you're more concerned about being right than learning, you're going to get a rot in your community that is really hard to get rid of once it festers enough. because if you've been told your whole life that the rot is the default and that it is normal and that it's the way it should be, you're never going to notice it's even there.

tbh the Critical Role fandom, along with most fandoms, has a problem with centering easily digestible metaphors for white queer experiences (and even then only those that check all the boxes of the purity list) at the cost of seeing stories through the lens of race, class, mental and physical disabilities and how those can intersect with queer experiences.

for example, putting an unnecessary amount of effort into proving Jester's attraction to Fjord is compulsory heterosexuality while ignoring that Fjord and Jester were both explicitly biracial characters from different class backgrounds and how that class difference intersected with their self image. a general refusal to really interact with Chetney as a character that is heavily coded as mentally ill and uninterested in being "cured." Veth being deemed the token straight Karen despite being a young rural mother of color struggling with addiction and having an arc that was heavily coded as trans, and Ashton, a nonbinary lower class punk with chronic pain, being considered just a man when it comes to ship wars. etc, etc.

[alwayslurkinginthebackground]

Anger - A Joel Miller Drabble

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!reader Rating: E (is there anything else with him?????) Truly this is the least crazy thing I've written in days. Unprotected p in v. Word Count: 1155 a/n: Sometimes I spend all afternoon trying to write Joel and get nothing and other times I write 1000 words in less than 30 minutes. There is no in-between. Written for TLOU Sundays!

"You've really gotta do something about him," Ellie tells you from where she's sitting at the kitchen table.

You're barely through the door, coat still covered in a layer of snow from outside. "Well hello to you, too, Ellie," you respond, pulling off your boots before you track any more water into the house. It's strange, how something like keeping the floors dry didn't matter for twenty years and now suddenly again it does. "You're the fourth person to say that to me today though, so I assume you also are talking about Joel?"

She's flipping through the pages of a comic, barely paying you any attention. "Yes, Joel," she emphasizes, not that you need any further confirmation. Maria had cornered you at the saloon, the other half of your patrol had been on your case, and you had a run-in with Jackson's resident grandma first thing in the morning, who gave you an earful about how you needed to learn how to satisfy your man so he would stop torturing the entire town with his bad mood.

You sigh, shucking your coat and flexing your toes in your thick socks as you make your way into the kitchen. "Any idea what's wrong with him? He seemed fine this morning."

Ellie shrugs, still engrossed in the pages in front of her. "I don't know, Dina just told me he was being a real fucking asshole. You know how he gets."

That you do. You're well aware of the way Joel Miller can make or break an entire day based on his mood, especially since you've been at his side to witness it longer than anyone else.

Before you can contemplate further, the man in question storms through the door, a grumble on his lips before it's even closed behind him. Ellie meets your gaze, glancing over at him before turning back to you and then quickly rising. "I've gotta get going," she says quickly, sneaking past Joel to grab her jacket.

She's out the door before he can even say a word.

"Where the fuck is she going?" he questions, ignoring the way his boots squeak on the floorboards as he makes his way to the couch, collapsing into it. A part of you wants to scold him for the wet spots now littered all over the floor, but based on the furrow in his brow, there's no use, and you simply follow him instead, swinging a leg over his thigh to climb into his lap and settle there.

Only he has the audacity to grumble. Again.

"Joel," you say sternly, "don't do that."

"Don't do what?" he fires back, and now you know exactly what everyone had been warning you about. "I didn't do anything."

"What's up with you today?" It's a simple question, an inquiry that he should have no problem answering, but he doesn't, so you continue with a follow-up request, "Just tell me why I had four separate people tell me that I needed to figure out who you're so angry today."

"I'm not angry."

You frown. "Bullshit, Miller. Tell me what the fuck is wrong."

His answer is to seal his lips to yours, his rough grip dragging your hips against his so you can feel the hard press of him between your thighs. This felt familiar, especially since he'd been in an equally shit mood the day you first met, something you'd promptly fucked out of him later that night. And usually, that did the trick, but there was always something else lingering beneath the surface.

Not that you have time to contemplate what it might be because he pushes any thought of his mental well-being from your head when he rips your shirt from your body and latches onto one of your breasts. Likewise, any train of thought is gone just as quickly as the remainder of your clothing.

It's a good thing Ellie left quickly, because within minutes he has you spread out on the couch beneath him, one of your legs hitched around his hip as he pounds into you. There's little space left between you, the moment feeling intimate even with the intensity of the way he's pressing you down, grunting with each thrust until he has you clenching around him.

His fingers are on your clit before you come down from your climax, already drawing you higher a second time. "Joel, fuck, I can't," you whine, gripping at his hand.

"You can," he emphasizes, "you're gonna take every fucking inch of me."

And then you can see it. The rage behind his gaze, the emotion that has his eyes glassed over. The anger he has to unleash somehow. It scared you when you first met him, the first time he had you like this back in Boston, pressed up against the door, the first time you watched his fist collide with a FEDRA officer who tried to touch you, and the first time you saw him have to kill someone who definitely wasn't infected.

But now, you know better. You know that he won't hurt you, but he still needs a way to release the pent-up emotion that boils beneath the surface. You don't know what happened to get him here today, but you do know how to fix it.

Joel groans when you shift to wrap your legs fully around his waist, pulling him down so the soft expanse of his stomach presses against your own, increasing the pressure of your walls wrapped around him. It's all he can do to rut into you, your back slowly snaking up the arm of the couch as he fucks you. The angle changes the higher you move, guiding his lips to yours so he can catch the scream that rips from your throat when you clench around him a second time.

He follows you into the abyss, pulling out seconds before he spills against your center, jerking himself off until the last drops drip down onto the fabric.

When he regains his breath he stands, cock softening as he moves to grab a cloth to wipe his spend from your core. And then he's pressing you into the couch again, settled in the safety of your thighs as his head rests on your chest.

"Do you wanna know what Mrs. Davis told me today?" you ask softly, fingers curling through his hair.

Joel rests his chin on your breast as he looks at you, eyes softer now, more playful. "Fuck, what did she say?"

You smile. "She saw me at the store and pulled me into the corner to tell me that I needed to get you home and ride your cock because she was sick of your shit."

His laugh is rough, but he says nothing else as he settles back against you.

"Was she right?" you ask, your own laughter threatening to bubble up.

He doesn't answer, but he doesn't deny it either.

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

tbh I don't know why everyone is so surprised that Riddle didn't pick Trey to be his Vice. I always thought that idea was contradictory to the version of Riddle that we see leading up to his overblot.

[You can see my thoughts on the book 7 chapter 12 part 2 update here!]

To quickly explain for those who don’t know: the recent update informed us that Trey was voted by his dormitory peers into the vice dorm leader position. He was not, in fact, hand selected by the newly appointed dorm leader Riddle.

I don’t really blame people for being surprised. Based on the presentation of Riddle and Trey in book 1 and what we knew prior about how vice dorm leaders are picked, the lore we learn in book 7 almost feels like it’s trying to convince us of another narrative historical revisionism, ayo/j. Let me try to explain what I mean.

Firstly, we have to remember that we spent a lot of book 1 with Trey, not with Riddle. We had lunch with Trey, we made a chestnut tart with Trey, we confronted Trey in the library, and we fought OB Riddle with Trey. We also see the camera cutting away to multiple instances of Trey trying to smooth things over with Riddle. And Trey is the one with warmth and fondness for his relationship with Riddle. Because we spend all this time with Trey (who is still attached to Riddle) versus Riddle (who is supposedly distant and detached), we get the impression that the two are closer than they truly are prior to Riddle’s OB. This impression is further strengthened by the presence of Chenya, another friend who paints their shared childhood in a largely positive light.

If you pay attention to how Riddle speaks to Trey throughout book 1 (pre-OB), Riddle does not speak warmly at all. He is usually speaking from the position of a ruler to his second-in-command and much of his dialogue with Trey is him commanding Trey to do X or Y. There’s no reminiscing about old times, no Riddle lording their childhood friendship to guilt Trey into falling in line, no leniency with Trey, nothing that would imply a connection beyond a professional one. Riddle basically treats Trey the same as Cater, his other third year minion at the time—and Riddle isn’t close with Cater at all. The one major exception I would say is right before Riddle OBs, in which he demands if Trey is also betraying him. Again, because we have spent so much time with Trey, we see Riddle from his perspective. We are more likely to view Riddle’s demand as him being hurt that his childhood friend is turning on him versus viewing Riddle’s demand as being hurt that his right-hand man who has been following his orders right up until now refuses to obey.

Really, it feels like less of an issue of fans not picking up on Riddle and Trey being alienated in early book 1 and more of an issue of how book 1 is framed. So much of it is colored by Trey’s (ironically) rose-colored lenses, so we as the viewers who are exposed to it are far more likely to see their friendship as persisting and Riddle having a soft spot for Trey as well. (Riddle is more patient later in the main story too, Granted that book 1 was so long ago, fans may remember the more patient and empathetic post-book 1 Riddle and may judge him based on that metric rather than the book 1 metric.)

Another major aspect as to why people are surprised that Riddle didn’t personally pick Trey as his vice dorm leader is because we literally didn’t know about any other methods to become vice dorm leader??? 😭 Like. I’m pretty sure that the only method we knew of before was to be picked by the dorm leader. I guess people noticed Riddle and Trey were childhood friends and assumed Riddle picked Trey because of familiarity? This is also the case with several other dorm leader/vice dorm leader duos, so this conclusion isn’t based on nothing.

Trey doesn’t strike a lot of us as a particularly… ambitious person?? He often expresses that he doesn’t like getting involved in conflicts or when people cause problems for him, which would be common occurrences for someone in a position of power like the vice dorm leader seat. You’d think Trey would actively want to avoid those responsibilities. Most of us probably didn’t think he would accept the position of vice dorm leader unless the person picking him for it is someone he cares about and/or feels like he has to support—which Riddle is. A ton of his behaviors in book 1 supports this, from doing Riddle’s dirty work and sharing that he harbors guilt over the past + struggles to speak against Riddle because of that.

Book 7 tells us what was technically true of Riddle’s perspective and treatment of Trey early in book 1. We just failed to see it before because of the lack of information and overwhelming bias at the time.

[kaija-rayne-author]

Do whatever you want, believe whatever you want. And using Veilguard as any sort of source for anything remotely related to canon Lore is just ridiculous. It's so... awful, IMHO, to use it to defend any sort of point.

I'm not certain if this would be considered critical, so I'll put it under a cut. Potentially critical of Veilguard.

Though I'm really just talking about the Lore.

I point out 4 massive retcons in Veilguard that blew my mind and that I see people commonly using as arguing points. And yes, if someone wants to pay me for the time, I can prove all of it with sources.

What little canon Lore they actually used in Veilguard? They twisted beyond recognition.

Just a few examples.

1. The blight is NOT, in fact, (or even in Veilguard) 'everywhere in the Fade'. It has always been contained to the Black City, that floats disconnected from everything else in the Fade. It's why the previously golden city is black ffs! Even in Veilguard, it's really damned obvious that the Fade isn't full of blight. We hop in and out of the Fade throughout the whole damned game like it's a shopping mall.

2. The Fade is not full of demons. Demons are spirits (people) of emotion. What usually twists them into demons is coming through the veil! The only reason there was the big demon in DAI is because it was attached to Coryphyfish. There's probably some, but it's an arguable point that an emotion spirit of, say, anger, or spite is actually a demon. Emotions aren't bad. They wouldn't automatically be demons simply because they reflect a negative emotion.

3. The veil has been canonically choking the life and magic out of Thedas for thousands of years. If the veil didn't come down, there would be no Thedas. This is clearly spelled out in canon. The veil was never meant to be part of the world. At the end of Trespasser, the veil is as holey as my grandmother's doilies. It's not as they tried to depict it in Veilguard, a firm, whole wall holding hordes of demons and the blight of blights back. That's such a bullshit retcon, and I make weird faces every time I try to figure out the mental gymnastics necessary for someone to come up with that idea.

4. It's also a massive retcon that Solas lies. (Sigh. Yes. It really is. No matter what you believe.) He canonically does not. They rewrote his character for DAI so that he doesn't lie because it weakened the character. He was originally written as much more similar to Blackwall. They decided it weakened Solas as a character and made sure he doesn't lie. He obfuscates, misleads, doesn't answer, and is really good at letting people make assumptions or even leading people to make assumptions. Because that is what a Trickster does! But in all of DAI and Trespasser, he does not lie except once. At the Winter Palace when you ask him where he got the experience of court. No. A 'lie of omission' is not a lie by the definition or philosophical understanding of what a lie is. You, as the player, not paying close attention to what he says doesn’t mean he lies either! He is not the 'god of lies'. That's Epler's hate shining through. Throughout 3 games, many dlcs, books, comics, short stories, the Dread Wolf is known as the Trickster. The god of rebellion and sometimes the god of betrayal. He is never once referred to as the god of lies in anything pre-veilguard. It's. Bullshit.

And Solas is an absolutely terrible liar. He stumbles all over himself trying to do it in the winter palace. It's hilarious tbh.

There were more retcons. But I need to go help with dinner.

Just, even if you liked Veilguard, don't use it as a defense in any sort of discussion of Lore. Perhaps listen to us Lore fiends, instead? Because they shat all over the Lore for Veilguard.

Real talk? It makes you look ignorant to anyone who actually has been paying attention to the Lore.

FWIW? I'm not in the best of moods right now. Please think twice, then a third time before responding/reblogging in disagreement. (Unless you're polite and actually have sources I haven't seen. I'm usually willing to have polite discussions or answer questions. I'm also willing to stand corrected if people actually can prove me wrong with sources attached. A 'nuhn unh, Solas lies cause I believe he does', won't get you far with me.) Nor will using anything from DAV to support an argument. I've relegated DAV to the graveyard of not-canon because of the complete disrespect of the Lore.

And I'll just laugh at you if you try to attack me. Internet randos filling my responses with shit doesn't phase me, bother me in the slightest, or make me upset. I find it incredibly, laugh out loud amusing because I've lived through so much more than that in my life.

[shadowfear-art]

Wolf in the hen house au: The stark difference between Domesticated and Tame

Since staying with Crocodile, becoming comfortable after being discovered Luffy has been feeling different.

The blind man's home is like his territory now, lots of food, plenty to roam around, and many new friends to play games with.

So why as he tails behind him his feet, his paws, touch the floor differently, quietly? why is he very aware when the man isn't paying attention in his direction? Jumping out to startle the man is fun but...

Why is he fixating on Crocodile's throat.

He could ask his brothers if they find him.

---

Luffy had a nightmare, one where the blind man left the world in red.

That was silly. He can't leave. Luffy wants him here.

Luffy's teeth ache, he'll be ready soon- ready?

ready for what?

His brothers told him things but he can't remember, they'll be mad he didn't pay attention.

The people in Crocodile's territory are like a pack.

'pack'

Luffy feels lonely that there's no one in this house like him yet... Yet?

His teeth are annoying him. He should ask Crocodile for more chew toys, and meat!

Crocodile.

He can't see but is a really good leader, for a human he has good senses.

Can't wait to show him when Luffy is ready...

... ... ...? Huh.

Didn't mean to scare him like that.

He might get in trouble.

Are his brothers gonna be mad when they get here?

---

Someone's here, they don't belong here!

RedredredredredredredREDREDREDREDREDRED-!

---

Crocodile is messy when hungry.

OH! Ace and Sabo are here!

((I was very late to post this))

[hitorim106]

"A Wolf At My Window"

synopsis: Childhood friend Caleb pays you a visit in the middle of the night. word count: 1.8k notes: This is the first fic I've posted in a long long time (so nervous!!), but I want to post more Love and Deepspace Vocaloid song fics so.... I was listening to Romeo and Cinderella by Doriko and could not stop thinking about Caleb to this song so... Enjoy your food freaks. warnings: Forbidden love, friends to lovers, Juliet complex, childhoodfriend!Caleb, naive reader, love and obsession, coming of age, rebellion, not beta read we die like granny?

ロミオとシンデレラ

0:58 ──♡───── 4:41

Caleb had always been there. In the morning when the sky bled with pink and gold hues, waiting for you outside the door. At school, where his laughter was a shield, making sure no one saw how you shrunk under the attention. In the evening, when the soft glow of the lamp on your bedside was often shared with his silhouette, leaning against the frame while he teases you for reading romance novels instead of studying.

For years, he had been your constant. Your safe place. And maybe that's why you haven't questioned why his presence felt heavier than normal lately. Or why his gaze lingered too long. Why, when you met his eyes, you felt something tightening in your chest that had nothing to do with comfort.

Tonight, he wasn't waiting by the door. He wasn't teasing you about your choice of fiction, or ruffling your hair as he walked past. Tonight, Caleb was at the window.

You swallowed, gripping the edge of the blanket, staring at his silhouette through the glass. Your heart pounded. The rational part of you knew you should be started, maybe even a little scared. But you weren't.

With shaky fingers, you open the window.

"You know," you whispered, your voice barely above the wind, "normal people use the front door."

Caleb's lips curved as he pushed the window up further. His hands—big, sturdy—gripping the frame as he hoisted himself inside, "And normal people don't let in wolves after dark," he murmured, his voice lower than usual. Softer.

The air in the room changed.

He didn't step back. Didn't put any space between you two. Instead, he reached up, fingertips brushing against your cheek, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. It was a simple touch. Barely anything. And yet, it felt like everything.

"Caleb—"

"Shh," he whispered. You froze as his thumb traced your jaw, tilting your chin up. "You always look away when I get too close."

You swallowed, "Well maybe you shouldn't get so close, then."

His smile deepened, but there was something unreadable in his expression. Something that sent a slow heat curling down your spine.

"That's the thing," he murmured, leaning down, his forehead nearly brushing against yours, "I don't think I can stop."

Your breath caught.

His other hand found your waist, fingers curling slightly—possessive, firm, like he wanted to make sure you didn't step away. But you weren't going to.

"How far can we venture tonight?" You whispered before you could stop myself.

Caleb stilled. His grip on your waist tightened just enough for you to feel the heat of his palm through the lace of your pink pajama top. Then, slowly, he smiled again. This time without amusement, without teasing.

"You tell me," he said, voice low, "but I'll warn you, I don't like being told to stop."

A soft shiver ran through you.

Your fingers curled against his chest, not pushing him away, but grounding yourself, "Be gentle," you murmured, looking up at him through your lashes, "I still don't like bitter tastes."

He exhaled, something like frustration flickered through his eyes. "Then don't tempt me."

You bit your lip.

And then his restraint snapped.

His lips found the corner of your mouth first, brushing, teasing, like he was waiting for you to push away. When you don't, he takes more. A slow, drawn-out kiss, his hands slide up, fingers pressing into the back of your back, pulling you closer. You barely had time to breathe before he kissed you again, hungrier this time, like he was trying to make up for all the times he held himself back.

When you break apart, you were breathless. Your head was spinning.

"Caleb," you whispered.

He studied you, something unreadable in his expression. Then, slowly, he reached into his pocket and pulled something out. A silver chain. A delicate charm at the end.

You frowned. "What's that?"

"A promise," he murmured, lifting it, carefully fastening it around your wrist. "That I won't let anyone take you away."

You swallowed. "That sounds more like a collar than a promise."

His lips twitched, but his grip on your wrist was steady. "Same thing, isn't it?"

You should've been alarmed. You should've questioned him.

But as you looked at him—the boy who had always been there, who had always protected you, who had always wanted more but never dared to ask—you realised something.

You didn't want to run.

Not from him.

Not tonight.

Maybe not ever.

The thought should've scared you. Should've made you take a step back, regain some distance. But you didn't move. Instead, you let your fingers brush around your wrist. The metal was cool against your skin, delicate, but firm. A promise, he had said. A collar, you had called it.

Maybe it was both.

You looked up at him, at the way his purple eyes burned in the dim glow of your bedside lamp. You had never thought of him as dangerous before. But now, standing here in the silence, the window still cracked open, letting in the cold night air, you realised—

He was the wolf if your story.

Not the prince.

Not the hero.

But the one who came I through the window instead of the door.

And you weren't stopping him.

His fingers traced the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse fluttered. He hadn't let go since he put the chain on you.

“You’re quiet,” Caleb murmured, watching you too closely.

You wet your lips. “I’m thinking.”

A slow, knowing smile. “About what?”

You hesitated. “About how my dad doesn’t like you.”

Caleb exhaled through his nose, like he expected that answer. “That’s nothing new.”

"He's going to notice if I start wearing this." you held up your wrist, the chain glinting in the low light.

His fingers curled around your wrist. "So don't take it off."

"Caleb—"

"I mean it." He pulled you closer, voice soft but firm, "It suits you."

You swallowed. "That's not the point. You know what he's like. If he founds out—"

"I don't care."

His voice wasn't sharp. Wasn't loud. But it cut through the air between you all the same. You felt your stomach twist, my breath catch. "You're not the one who has to deal with him."

His jaw tensed, "No. But I could take you away from it all."

You froze.

He wasn't teasing.

He wasn't being playful.

He meant it.

And for a single, wild moment—you wanted to say yes.

You wanted to be like those girls in the stories, the ones who ran away with their prince charming, who let themselves be carried off before the clock struck twelve. The ones who didn't have the think about their father's disappointment, or their mother's worried sighs, or the way everyone expected them to be good, obedient, reasonable

But this wasn't a fairy tale. Real life wasn't a fairy tale.

You stepped back. Just a little. Just enough for your back to hit the edge of your desk. "You're talking I'm some princess locked in a tower."

"Arent you?"

You glared. "I have a life here. A family. You can't just take me away."

Caleb studied you for a moment. Then, finally, he exhaled and let go of your wrist, his touch leaving behind the phantom warmth of his touch. "Fine," he said, too easily. "Then let me be the one who stays."

You frowned. "What?"

"You heard me." His expression softened, but there was something dangerous under the surface. "I won't take you anywhere. But I'll make sure no one else does either."

Yet another shiver runs down your spine. "That's not how this works."

He tilted his head. "Then how does it work?"

You hesitated.

Because deep down.. you knew.

If you told him to stop, if you told him to leave, he would.

But you didn't want him to.

You just didn't know if you could handle what it would mean if he stayed.

"I don't want to be someone's Juliet." You muttered, not looking at him.

Caleb let out a low chuckle. "I know. I'm not asking you to be."

My stomach twisted again. "Then what are you asking?"

Silence.

And then—

His fingers brushed under your chin, tilting your face up.

"Stay with me." He murmured, voice low, steady. "That's all."

Stay with me.

Not run away with me.

Not be mine.

Just stay.

Your pulse pounded in your ears.

Because if you said yes. I knew this wouldn't be some fleeting thing. Caleb wasn't someone who let go. He wasn't someone who would let you change your mind later.

If you stayed—truly stayed—then you were his.

And the worst part?

You wanted to be.

Caleb's hands were warm, steady. His presence wrapped around me like a vice, unyielding, inescapable. But even as your breath caught in your throat, as his fingers dug into your waist just enough to make you aware of his weight, your mind drifted, pulled back by the ghosts of childhood, by something so simple, so innocent.

Caramels.

Your mother used to make them from scratch, stirring the golden syrup over the stove, the scent of butter and sugar thick in the air. She would hum while she worked, the same old tune she'd sung to you as a child, and when the caramel had cooled just enough, she'd cut them into little squares, wrapping each one in wax paper.

They were soft, sweet, melting on your tongue in an instant. A taste that lingered, that filled my mouth with warmth and comfort.

Caleb used to steal them when we were kids. He'd wait until Mom wasn't looking, grab one from the counter, and flash you a smug little grin. "Don't tell," he'd whisper, voice thick with mischief.

You never did.

You still remembered the way he'd look at you after taking a bite—chewing slow, savouring the flavour—before offering you the other half.

Sweet things should be shared, right?

But that was the thing about caramel, wasn't it? It was easy to choke on if you weren't careful. Too rich, too thick, too overwhelming.

And now, with Caleb pressing you against the desk, his body so close, his hands so firm, you felt like you were choking again—on something just as intoxicating, just as dangerous.

He wasn't offering something soft this time.

He wasn't giving you the last half.

He was taking.

And you still weren't stopping him.

"Tell me you don't want this." His voice was low, rough against your ear. "Tell me to leave and I will."

You swallowed hard, your fingers curling into his shirt. "Caleb..."

He waited. Patient, like he always was. But you could feel the tension in him, the way his grip tightened, like he already knew you wouldn't say it.

Because he knew you.

He had always known you.

And maybe that's why you had never been afraid of him.

Even now, when you knew—knew—that this wasn't something you could undo, that crossing this invisible boundary meant there was no going back, you still weren't afraid.

Because Caleb had always been there.

At every birthday. At every graduation. Through every stupid heartbreak, through every moment you'd felt alone.

He had been there, waiting.

And now, as your heart pounded in your chest, as his fingers traced slow, deliberate circles against your hip, you realised something terrifying.

You'd been waiting too.

Dividers by @cafekitsune

[strawhatmay]

Just a little drabble I managed to write, but it IS my first ever piece of Zosan fanfiction 😭 (althought it is not about them lol) As always, constructive critiscism is more than welcomed.

A friend in the house

[Zoro runs into someone on the way to the bathroom in the Vinsmoke house]

It was late, very late, but Zoro really had to go take a piss, so he got up, grabbed Sanji’s robe and got out of the bedroom as quietly as possible.

 

This big ass house and no private bathroom, just the logic of Judge Vinsmoke, "let's make a gigantic one, practically a mansion, oh toilets? I don't give a fuck, put them wherever." Zoro never met him really, he died when Sanji was 6, good fucking riddance.

Even after the Vinsmoke siblings all turned 21, they still share a house. Sora insisted, she wanted them all in one place as long as they were happy here, and well, none of them had the heart to say no to their mom.

 

So that's why Zoro has to go through a maze to find a bathroom in the middle of the night, instead of just finding one a few steps away from the bed in a hypothetical apartment they would own. Or, Sanji would own, he means. Zoro would love to move in with him, but Sanji might like to have his own place for a bit before that.

 

 

Ah, Sanji. He needs to hurry up so he can go back to bed. They had a little argument a week ago and now they were back, he was back in his arms. It was silly, so silly, they just needed to talk it out, and last night Sanji called him saying he missed him, so Zoro was throwing tiny rocks at his window 5 minutes later.

 

"Yeah that's definitely the bathroom," Zoro thinks when he recognizes the door. Just when he's aproaching it, another figure in a bright pink robe appears in the dark and goes to the door as well. Both in robes so clearly from their respective partners, they stop and stare at each other.

 

 

"Roronoa" she aknowledges, a bit irritated.

 

"Tash" says Zoro, trying to sound friendly.

 

…awkward.

 

"Made up with Blondie?" Tashigi asks with a teasing smile.

 

"Back together with Pinkie?" Zoro answers.

 

She smiles. "Why else would I be here?"

 

"I don't know, maybe you were seeing one of her brothers."

 

"Ew."

 

"Or maybe you sneaked in," Zoro shrugs.

 

"Yeah right, cause I'M the one who climed through Sanji's balcony like three hours ago." Look at that, now she was teasing in a friendly way. Zoro can never tell if Tashigi is a friend or an enemy.

 

"How do you even know about that?" Zoro asks, suddendly worried the rest of the house heard him too.

 

"Sanji's room is right on top of the library, we literally saw you the whole time. You know you can just use the door, right?" she asks him like he's dumb.

 

"It's more fun this way" he says, trying to look nonchalant.

 

She pauses and then asks: "You’re scared of Zeff?"

Caught.

 

"...maybe, so what? He's intimidating" Zoro admits, because really, would anyone blame him?

 

"He's an old chef with one leg," she says, leaning on the wall and crossing her arms. "Besides, he likes you more than he likes me and I'm allowed to use the door."

 

"Yeah well, I've never broken up with *my* Vinsmoke," Zoro says, but then he feels that maybe it was a bit cold, so he adds "no offense."

 

"It's fine, it is what it is" Tashigi says, now seeming a little sad.

 

Zoro knows why Tashigi broke up with Reiju a couple times in the past. Reiju and Sanji are pretty close, and naturally, Sanji tells him everything. He doesn't wanna get too involved in other people's bussiness, but at least he can offer some advice.

 

"Hey, so...I don't know much about your relationship but...I often think I don't deserve him either, you know?"

 

Zoro tells her, carefully.

 

Tashigi looks at him, she seems to be paying real attention now.

 

He continues "and that's ok, it's ok to feel unworthy sometimes, but just...try to trust that she thinks you actually are, that you do deserve her and trust her judgement. It's her decision to be with you, to choose you, you know?"

 

A few seconds pass, Zoro starts fidgeting with the fabric of his yellow robe.

 

"Huh...and here I thought Blondie chose you only because of your boobs" Tashigi says, now fully on her feet, with her hands on her hips. She smiles. Zoro mirrors the smile.

 

"Thank you, Zoro" she says and bumps his shoulder softly with her fist.

 

"You're welcome" he says and does the same to her.

 

Just when they finish talking, the door to the bathroom opens.

A VERY tall guy with purple hair comes out wearing a red robe. He stands in the middle of Zoro and Tashigi, looks between them and says “all yours” as he walks away.

The other two stare at each other surprised.

“…was that Charlotte Katakuri?” Tashigi whispers as she looks at the red robe dissappear in the hallway.

“I can’t believe it” Zoro says, finally closing his mouth. “Did he not completely hate Ichiji?” he adds, whispering as well.

“Right, cause two people can’t hate each other but also want to fuck” says Tashigi and gives Zoro a pointed look.

“…ok, I get it” he answers and looks around a bit embarrassed.

“They are way more controversial than you two though, both captains of rival teams” she half whispers as she gets a bit closer.

“The Charlottes are gonna hate us even more” says Zoro.

“Us?”

“Well, yeah, we’re part of the Vinsmoke clan, aren’t we?” Zoro asks with a frown.

“I guess, yeah, I never thought about it before”

A moment passes.

“Hey, look at us gossiping” Zoro laughs. “Guess now I have a friend in this house” he adds as he opens the bathroom door.

“Hey ‘friend’, why do YOU get to go-“ but the door is closed to her face.

The end.

[carlarosenakilah]

I'm taking a break from The Osix Family and Wilted Ivory

Hi, you've read that right. I'll proceed to go into detail undercut

Warning that the following will be containing very sensitive topics such as su***idal thoughts, mental health issues, and whatever the fuck I went through to get me here and I don't know how to describe nor name them but overall its not pretty.

Getting straight to the point- im drained. I'm in a horrible place right now and I need to take a step back before it might escalate into something worse.

The Osix Family is always something that I will forever dedicate to. It has comforted me, carried me, and saved me from killing myself three years ago.

I asked myself, "If I'm not here, who will tell the story of The Osix Family?"

That made me stay alive, and im greatful for that because if not, I wouldn't have been where I am today standing with the coolest people I have ever met and my amazing partner in crime @alexusespido-dod.

I love Wilted Ivory too, and that's where it gets tricky.

My only plan for Wilted Ivory is to simply tell a story about growth expressed as a musical au. Hence why the art is so simple– not just to match the original Casino Cups style, but just to tell a story that I hope would inspire and comfort others. Of course, I'm happy it gained lota of love.

The Osix Family though is a different story.

Like I said, it means a lot to me, so I put so much time and energy into this series. I sacrifice time that could've been used to study for the next exam, but instead im working on the next few panels or planning the music and etc. Blood sweat and tears (literally) into making sure the art looks good, story is properly conveyed, scenes carefully picked. Even if it gained me bad scores in my exams that made me stress over about, in the end it was worth it to me. I didn't care if I'd be sick an unable to move, as long as I could at least think about it, then I would be happy.

Episode 3 was my worst.

I overworked myself for that episode. I was always in front of my tablet, I never moved out of my seat, I was just there, working on it even if it was 1 in the morning and that I should be sleeping. I told myself: "Everything will pay off! Sure you're in so much pain right now, but eventually it will all pay off! Episode 3 is looking good and interesting! This will FINALLY gain the audience and love the story deserves!"

I was proud.

Until I wasn't.

Reality hit me like a saw. The moment the episode was released I was hopeful. But nothing happened. It was all the same.

And it just hurt how something as simple as Wilted Ivory can easily gain attention and love because it was Cuphead related something well known. Meanwhile, The Osix Family–despite everything–is just barely seen.

I started to doubt myself. To question myself. Was I not doing enough. What more can I do. What should I do. Am I not good enough?

Is the story just not good enough?

That broke me. I began to have thoughts I shouldn't have. I wanted to end it all. I wanted to quit and disappear from the world. Because what was the point in pouring so much love into something only for it to dismissed.

Its not like I simply began having these thoughts.

I've had them over and over again.

As much as I hated involving him, my partner, Alex, had to deal with the many times I nearly ended it. To the point where even if he was in school, he'd go out of his way to stop me, I still feel guilty, even if he said it was fine.

I don't understand myself anymore.

Why do I even have such an attachment to this series? Its just a stupid silly series for funsies isn't it? Why does my life to depend on it?

Unfortunately, it just does.

It sucks. Pushing away my needs for the sake of this passion, only for it to just not go as I hoped it would go. Did I mention I'm also losing followers on the osix family blog? Thats so silly and coquette.

I'm so sorry if im coming off as guilt-trippy, please I don't want it to sound that way, I just want to express how deeply troubled I am because to me it actually DOES HURT.

I envy people who couldn't give a flying fuck about whether or not their stuff goes famous or gets love, I don't even understand why I am so dependent or hungry on whatever attention it gets. I hate that im like this. I want to be free from it but I just crave it.

So, for the sake of my mental health and whatever is left of my sanity, im taking a break, for good.

I will not be updating The Osix Family or Wilted Ivory at this very moment. For how long? It depends on how fucked up I have actually turned out to be today.

I might still post, keyword: MIGHT, its not any update but to just simply draw for myself, but the chances of me posting anything is horribly low.

I'm going to focus on myself, my needs, and whatever makes me happy or have fun with.

To those who supported The Osix Family or even bothered to check it out: Thank you, from the bottom of my heart.

It means a lot to me, you have NO idea. Every single like, reblog, comment, hype or even the silliest amounts of theories or thoughts, they make me so happy, it actually heals me.

I can't remember names im sorry, but there was a time someone expressed how they were invested in the lore and loved the world building, it really made my day. Or when someone pointed out some small details on my waiting in a miracle animatic, it warmed my heart.

I have troubles expressing it, but im so, SO greatful.

Especially when some of my mutuals started making OCS FOR THE SERIES?? Like– it felt like a HUGE compliment.

I cant believe im tearing up as im typing this haha im so stupid lmao, but

Thank you. A lot.

And to those who weren't really into The Osix Family, its okay, don't feel bad, sometimes things are just not our cup of tea, I just needed to express my grief, cause honestly bottling it up isn't going to end well for me (and it really didn't multiple times).

I apologize for any false hope or let down your hype as Wilted Ivory was just starting and The Osix Family was finally coming back– but this treatment is overwhelming me that I need to take a step back.

That's all for now.

Thank you for... actually reading, you listening means a lot to me too.

Goodbye.

[lovelykil]

hate─

killua ᯓ

oneshot

note; proof read tmr, shoutout to my wife who gave me this idea

who would've known the biggest jerk in your life was at the party of the year... supposedly. He hates crowds, people even more. What the hell was he doing taking on a guy in a drinking competition who looked like he was way too old to be at a high school party?

you push yourself through the crowd of sweaty, rambunctious teenagers to get to other side of the room where he is. Honestly, you could care less about the silverette but the fact that he was even here made you ridiculously curious. You could not take your eyes off of him when you spotted him, 20 minutes ago.

creep much? Maybe.

"killua, what the hell are you doing here?" You set your red cup down on the table with a smack, making the contents inside slip out of the cup. The boy finishes gulping down his beverage, probably alcohol, and slams his cup down.

"Leorio, you quitting already? Tch." He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes focused on the guy from the other side of the table. Leorio, with flushed cheeks and a hot-tempered attitude already shouts in frustration.

"how DID YOU EVEN MANAGE TO CONSUME THOSE WHOLE BOTTLES OF ALCOHOL, WE USED CUPS!?" Killua smirks and stuffs his hands into his pockets, "years of torture." The old man-looking teenager flares his hands in the air in a fit of rage and storms off, bumping into people as he stumbles away.

you turn your attention towards Killua after the whole ordeal and watch him rock side to side slightly. Oh great. He was tipsy.

his eyes motion toward you in a slow manner, "what the hell are you doing here?" He asks, his tone gruff and rude yet puzzled at the same time. You cross your hands over your chest, slightly shifting your weight onto your hip, "I could say the same thing." You respond, matching his tone.

His eyes never leave your cold while your eyes are glued to his piercing intimating eyes.

his gaze locks onto you, cold and unrelenting, while yours remains trapped in the depths of his piercing, intimidating stare. And there it was—the raw, electric tension that swallowed the whole room, making everyone else fade into existence. The feeling was all too familiar, but for some reason, you didn't fret from it this time.

the relationship between the both of you was—complicated. The reasons why you both hated each other were unclear and never spoken about. One simple day he looked at you in a weird, irritating way and you took that as a clear sign he found you distasteful and absurd.

a bit dramatic but who isn't?

"never took you much for a party asshole." You finally speak. The sounds of people and music suddenly fade back into reality, causing the silverette to break eye contact. He turns and leans to grab a bottle of alcohol you barely cared to pay attention to the name and flicks off the lid, "I hate parties." The bottle inches towards his lips.

you lean off your hip, "why the hell are you he—"

"hey, we should have a drinking contest yeah? I bet I can beat your annoying ass." Before he could take a gulp, he set the bottle down to propose his grand idea. The idea makes your brow twitch upward, completely unamused of the proposal. But something complied you to take him on, maybe it was your competitiveness and the lack of affection you felt for him.. simply just wanting to see him lose and laugh in his stupid pretty face.

wait—pretty?

"what? You don't think you can beat me? Well of course you can't." Killua scoffs, taking your unresponsive state as an answer. You snap out of your thoughts grab the bottle that was near him and take a swig of it, glaring the cocky asshole right in the eye. His eyes widen but soon return to their state, narrow and intimidating as he reaches for a bottle of another alcoholic substance.

"first to finish a bottle wins then." He says before twisting off the lid and discarding it elsewhere. You squeeze your eyes and take deep, determined gulps of the vile beverage. Its acrid taste clings to your tongue, while a searing burn trails down your throat. The sensation is nearly unbearable... but you remain confident. This wasn't exactly your first rodeo... but that's a story for another day.

as a few more seconds pass by, groups of curious and loud people begin to surround the both of you, completely engrossed by the fact a girl is competing with a boy in a drinking competition. Soon there was a full circle and you could hear the loud chanting making your heart skip a beat.

the whole ordeal felt like forever but only lasted 65 seconds, you slam the bottle down on the table and shout in victory. The crowd, loud and proud cheers you on as Killua just barely finishes a second after you. You bathe in your glory, overwhelmed with glee that the nasty liquid is no longer murdering your taste buds and burning your esophagus.

you turn and face your enemy with a wide grin, "what were you saying about me not beating you?" He rolls his eyes, slightly stumbling. "shut up." He mutters, you snicker.

. . .

about an hour later somehow you were dragged into a small bathroom, the drunk frustration blabbering nonsense rolling off your tongue like nothing. The noise from outside was quickly muffled as the door closed shut behind you. You lean against the sink, depending on it for stability as you look at Killua.

"what the hell are we doing here, huh?" You watch him lean against the wall and look at you, he ignores your question. This makes you pissed.

"hey! I know you're not that drunk, you have crazy tolerance. Why did you bring me here?!" You shout, now growing frustrated. You were drunk but.. not wasted. He remains silent just fueling your anger more. You're about to shout once more til he walks toward you, 2 steps and he's right infront of you.

you pause, eyes widening as you look up at him. His drunken dazed eyes are the first thing you notice, then his soft lips... then his slightly exposed neck. That's when you feel it, your cheeks warming.

"I cant feel my neck, can you help.." He points to his button up dress shirt, his voice low and calm. You blink, then nod slowly. With careful hands, you reach out and unbutton the first two buttons to release him of his troubles. You can feel his warm body heat radiating off him like if he were some heater.

"Is that better?" You mumble. Killua lets out a hum of relief and looks at you. You stare back at him, both of you flushed in the face and dazed in the minimal-size bathroom. The tension was more apparent than ever before now, the electrifying spark between you was getting harder to ignore.

for unknown reasons you wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling the boy closer. He gets the idea and his hands find their way onto your hips, gripping the plush of your skin softly. No words exchanged, the look of pure desire and affection spoke volumes.

you inch toward his face with a drunk smile and mumble something you never would've thought of saying.

"I've always loved your eyes, you know." Your unusual compliment rings in his ears, just causing the boy to blush. He looks away, but his hand caresses your sides tenderly.

"thought you hated me?" He looks back at you. You can't help but grin at his puzzled words. You bring him closer suddenly, your lips merely just inches away from contact with his. Your eyes slowly flicker from his lips to his gaze, the lingering intensity thickening in the air between you... each passing second adding to the unspoken tension.

"I do, so kiss me." You breathe. The drunken teen spent no time propping you on the sink and crashing his lips into yours like a hungry animal, devouring its meal. It was as if something inside him flickered like a light switch, all he wanted was you even though he hated you and you hated him.

something about the hatred you had for each other sparked something incredible and unpredictable, all it took was some alcohol.

the sounds of moans and groans erupting from the both of you drowned out the noises coming from the outside,

it was just you and him.

[psychemochanight]

More HC because I forgot many :D

Part 1 :D

Again, a little disclaimer:

These are just my favorite HCs, whether made by me or by the fandom, if you don't like any of them, that's completely respectable and you obviously don't have to agree with all or any of them. If you don't like them, just ignore them please, it's not worth arguing over HC about a fictional character.

That said, here are more HC (not all of them yet, but yeah, I'll add them as I remember them):

Dick is the kind of person who is always smiling, even when there is danger. If he's not smiling and cracking jokes, he's completely serious. No one has any problem admitting that they don't want to see that Dick, because he's scary.

Dick hates hospitals, and he hates being sedated even more, even in the batcave.

Years being kidnapped, yep.

His first instinct after waking up and analyzing his situation with his senses without giving any signs of waking up, is to run immediately. If they can avoid it, they never sedate him completely, the times he jumped up from the stretcher without taking into account his injuries were enough to know better.

He sits in the weirdest positions ever.

If he pays more than five minutes of attention to his hair, it's actually wavy, almost curly, if he doesn't, it's almost straight.

He grows his hair long when he is depressed and doesn't feel like taking care of it.

He rarely gives any other signs of being depressed now, so almost no one notices it these days.

He associates aromas with different people.

Sometimes, because of the perfumes worn by his family and friends, he knows that they have been in his apartment.

Yes, he sometimes lives on cereal, but it's definitely not the only thing he knows how to prepare, he just is so tired to cook.

Canonically, in several runs cereal is, in fact, his favorite food, so- besides having a sweet tooth, it helps him stay active (sugar rush 24/7).

He canonically prefers simple, comforting foods, so, another trait of his undiagnosed AUDHD :D

Alfred and Bruce say that Dick has a child's palate, he insists that the problem is not the taste, but the texture... It doesn't help his case.

Obviously he eats healthy food, but it always has to be something simple, he finds very elaborate dishes difficult to eat.

He had a pretty hard time at galas with the fancy food the first few times, until Bruce noticed that Dick wasn't eating and started including simpler dishes on the menu.

This is also why people sometimes think he doesn't know how to cook, because he only makes simple dishes, but it's not because he doesn't know how, it's because it's the only kind of food he likes.

In fact, despite preferring sweet over salty, or even his taste for junk food, Dick is very conscious of what he eats, and always has his head counting protein, calories, sugars and other nutritional values; this way, he keeps his diet stable even if he allows himself these "whims"... when he remembers to eat.

He actually likes stuffed animals, he just doesn't have any. (DC, what are you waiting for to give this man his stuffed elephant?)

Dick is an ambivert.

I would even say that he is more introverted. Not the incorrect definition of people, who confuse introversion with being reserved, shy or not liking to socialize. but the one who needs his time alone to recharge his energy. .

When Dick met Superman, it was despite Batman's "no meta-humans" rule, and his argument when Batman was going to scold him was "he's not a meta-human, he's an alien."

Bruce had to concede the point to the kid for the loophole, and update his rule.

This depends on the run to be canon or not, but I prefer to think that Dick never actually went to school before Bruce, and it was exclusively his charisma that helped him blend in with the other children, as if he had always attended educational institutions.

Although Bruce knew Dick was intelligent, even he was surprised that he was so able to not only catch up, but excel in the educational field, considering he never attended school. More than because of Robin, it was one of his teachers the first one to call him Golden Boy, since he considered him a prodigy.

At Gotham Academy you had to take at least one language class to graduate, and it couldn't be one you already knew, but Dick already knew all the ones in the program, so he had to pretend to learn french.

One of my favorite HCs in the fandom is Dick helping out with the Watchtower's computer system, especially considering it could very well be canon (if only today's writers wouldn't forget that Dick is also an amazing hacker and not just a social skills specialist 🙄).

This mentioned, my personal HC to justify all the things that the writers leave out of the character that were once regular in him (and that now belong to his siblings), is that he himself stops making an effort in these things. When he was Robin, he was alone with Batman, so he had the obligation to not only be on par, but to fill all the spaces that Batman left, so he specialized in everything. Now that he has a full team, he no longer has the obligation to cover everything himself, so he allows himself to just continue filling the remaining spaces, mostly related to the social part (when he's not working alone, of course).

This does not mean that he no longer continues to instruct himself in those skills that his siblings have, he does, he is always learning, but he no longer has the need to demonstrate it in any way, so he just lets people even think that he is incompetent in those areas, even if it is the opposite (it helps a lot when you are underestimated on the field after all).

He invented a few insults during his time as Robin, which somehow became a real vocabulary when other heroes and later civilians started using them.

His puppy eyes are too powerful, even as an adult.

Although everyone jokes that he is old because of all his years of experience in the hero thing, Dick actually looks so young.

On a good or bad day (depending on who you ask), it even happens that people ask for his ID to confirm that he is of legal age (usually for drinking). He never knows whether to feel flattered or offended.

I decided to pretend the suit wasn't a bare-legged leotard, mostly because I like to think that the suit was actually his acrobat suit, just with the red vest on top, and since they always draw the suit with the legs part... U know.

It also depends, considering the current continuity, Dick was now born in more modern times, and the tights now usually have covered legs; but if we still place it in the 40s, then it makes more sense that the suit is like the original.

For comfort, I'll pretend that his legs are covered, also I'll pretend that he has some protection and isn't just walking around with exposed skin to get hurt, even if hitting him with a bullet must be damn difficult because he jumps as a flea.

Toe point and tiptoes, like, A LOT.

He starts babbling random facts about history or math formulas at the most random moments.

He's the kind of person who always knows the answers to people's questions about facts he doesn't really need to know.

"I wonder where the word "'macaroni' originated from"... And he just starts telling you the whole story.

(My father is like that, and I always wonder where he learned all that, my God).

He likes action series. He also likes police and mystery series, but it's a pain to watch this kind of series with him because he keeps guessing the ending and always gets it right.

He also loves black and white movies.

He likes classic rock and jazz music, but has no problem listening to other genres. He also likes pop music, although more bc he likes to annoy his brothers with it.

He is a bit obsessive compulsive, not all the time, and he doesn't have the disorder as such; but sometimes he really needs to be in control of things and follow routines (part of his AUDHD and PTSD speaking for him).

As I said before, I don't think Dick has anger issues, he's just overstimulated, but this doesn't mean he doesn't feel angry or frustrated on many occasions.

When this happens, he has two main ways to let go of his anger... The healthy way is to exercise, train or simply unload his mind while his body is in motion, he also tends to meditate on occasion.

Sometimes it's not so healthy, as he actually lets himself get hurt while training.

The unhealthy way, is to go beat up the thugs.

Sometimes he doesn't let his anger out voluntarily, and ends up exploding against those who don't deserve it. When this happens, it is almost always in verbal form.

Dick doesn't insult directly, but with the eloquence he has, he doesn't need insults to seriously hurt someone.

He can't say that he has never self-harmed, but he doesn't do it in the form of cutting himself, but rather by letting himself get hit or failing to stop particularly painful falls.

Actually, even though he doesn't have the highest self-esteem, he doesn't really have an identity crisis. It doesn't matter that he's a good actor, he never doubts who he is. He doesn't really invent personas in front of anyone, he just shows facets of his personality as appropriate (the only moments where he acts like someone he is not, there is always something of his person even in those roles).

During a certain infamous arc the identity crisis was a little more real, but he recovered from it.

Although he is an acrobat first, he still knows a lot about gymnastics, both men's and also women's actually. More for fun than for training.

Even if he miraculously has free time, instead of resting, he is probably practicing something new.

His friends swear that Dick only stays still when he's dissociating.

And that's all (for now) ✨

I've repeated some of them on purpose to make the explanation more explicit- but I hope most of them still make sense.

[sleepy--anon]

It's My Job

Reblog first, like later please, reblogs do more

Here's who I write for

In-ho is 35 and Jun-ho is 19 here

Most people would assume that siblings with a 16 year age gap wouldn't be that close but Jun-ho practically glued himself to his big brother and In-ho absolutely adored Jun-ho from birth. They obviously still had their fair share of sibling quarles but ultimately, the two were inseparable for the most part.

"You work too much!" Jun-ho whined loudly, half hanging off his brother's bed, In-ho rolled his eyes as he continued his paperwork. Jun-ho showed up randomly, wanting to see his brother.

"Considering you're only on your second year of academy I'd assume you'd appreciate the calm atmosphere of us just doing our own thing in peace Namdongsaeng." Jun-ho's eyes narrowed at how his brother didn't look at him while he spoke.

"I came to see my Hyung because I missed him, is it a crime to be upset that he's ignoring me?" Jun-ho turned to sit on his legs and give In-ho an exaggerated pout and the biggest puppy eyes he could muster. He felt a prideful flutter in his chest when In-ho looked at him and visibly melted.

"Nobody said it was, and I am not ignoring you, you just have a completely different view of attention than I do." In-ho got up from his desk, walking over to his little brother, gently cupping his face, smiling softly at Jun-ho's bright smile.

"Well I felt ignored Hyung, you should've known how I feel about your attention." In-ho's eye twitched at his tone, his hands slipping to Jun-ho's shoulders.

"You want attention Namdongsaeng? Fine, I'll give you some damn attention." He quickly shoved his bother back, jumping up to straddle his hips, pressing his wrists into the mattress as he watched Jun-ho process what had just happened.

"Are you comfortable Hyeongje~? Cause you're gonna be there for a while~" Just then did Jun-ho finally realize what was happening. In-ho's change in tone flipped a switch in Jun-ho's brain.

"Noooo come on! That's not what I meant when I said I wanted your attention and you know it!" He whimpered, trying to worm his way out of his scarily effective hold. When Jun-ho was 6 his brother had graduated from the same police academy he was currently in, which meant In-ho knew all the little tricks he didn't and boy did he use that to his advantage.

"Its no use Little One~ You might as well accept your fate~ You practically asked for this anyway~" Jun-ho grunted as he tried to overpower his brother, huffing at his smug face when he barely budged.

"I did not! Can't we just go get food? Or watch a movie? Both of those work as alternatives" Jun-ho felt the pressure of In-ho's knees on his wrists, pulling a long whine of protest from his throat.

"What whiny~? You wanted my attention right~? You now have my undivided attention~" In-ho smirked mischievously as he crawled his fingers from his hips up to his ribs. Chuckling at Jun-ho's strained grunts as he tried to fight the sensations.

"Oh come on Jun~ This isn't a battle, you can let loose~ or do you need a little help~?" In-ho's fingers pressing into a few of his higher ribs, smiling at the bright, childish laughter the began flowing from his brother.

"Nohohohoho! I dohohon't neheheed any hehehehelp! StohohoOHOP!" In-ho hummed as if considering his request.

"I don't know if I believe you~ You've been pouting quite a lot today~"

"I'm FIHIHIHINE! STOHOHOP dohohoing THAHAHAT!" Jun-ho's laughter pitching up and down based on In-ho's occasional flicks up into his underarms.

"Why~? Would you prefer I did this instead~?" In-ho's hands jumped to his brother's stomach pinching and squeezing all over, paying extra attention to the lower portion towards his hips.

"FUHUHUCK OHOHOHOFF!"

"Ooooo~ Jun-ho's using his big boy language now~" He could feel his bed shake from the drumming of Jun-ho's feet.

"LEHEHET MEHEHE GOHOHOHOHO! HYUHUHUNG PLEHEHEHEASE!"

"Oh alright~" He skittered his fingers quickly across his little brother's neck before climbing off him.

"You're way too ticklish to be pulling that kind of shit Jun, you always have been" He teased, pinching his cheek and fixing the pillow under his head.

"Just say you like bullying me In-ho, we know that's the real reason you just nearly killed me"

"Don't be so dramatic Namdongsaeng, you're just a little out of breath, think of it like endurance training. You're welcome."

[lullabyalikpoptarot]

Mark Lee Perspective Reading

Disclaimer: No facts, all alleged, just my interpretation.

Someone requested this one a while ago, sorry for not responding, but out of three members they requested he stood out to me, so I will get to him this weekend. The song he gave me was Rihanna's Diamond. This could indicate him being special in a sense, or liking to shine and be in the spotlight, or liking a lot of attention, which makes sense as he is a Leo. I don't know much else about him. I am familiar with him, as I was a fan of NCT years ago, but haven't kept up with them, so time to see what he gives me energetically.

Fuck man, he is coming in strong, so I sensed some weird energy from him when I did his LBGQIA+ reading, something was fishy there and yup, getting that vibe here. It seems he went down the path of many of these idols and being prostituted as well allegedly. The one card always gives me the vibes of being filmed or pictures, so there could be that. I feel these people don't care how they hurt these idols or affect them either. This one card comes to 9 and I think of the 9 of swords, a stressful event, maybe he has nightmares about, 9 of wands, boundaries being crossed, 9 of cups, wishes coming true out of that and 9 of pentacles, this gives him financial freedom and access to it. I mean I guess, because SM doesn't pay that well, but okay. This may be why, besides his talent and drive, that he has more opportunities than others.

Now, with this down casted pride, this shows shame, guilt for what has happened or what he did. Maybe he did by his own volition, or just thought that is what is supposed to happen, it is how it is always done. I feel like they may do this to shame them as well or have a hold on them, and that may be a case for him. Why am I getting, he may get reminders of the event to trigger him or set him off, or just embarrass him somehow.

He did give me two other cards, wasn't sure I would add them, but decided to and ugh, this confirms more of what I mentioned. He gave me the triumph of lies and as I mentioned this card gives me he got skeletons and that his rise to fame came with a price and it isn't how they portray. It gives me something more sinister going on behind the scenes. He also gave me parasite, which is people leech of him, take from him. He feels he gets used and abused, how extreme that is I don't know.

He does seem to try to stand strong towards these people. He still remains strong and confident, so even if they do things to knock down his confidence. He stands up stronger after that. He's kind of giving me. I won't let ya'll bully me, so he doesn't seem to distraught about things overall. He enjoys to showcase his skills and work and does what he can to make things happen. He is fueled by his creative energy and will do what it takes to create the things he wants to, with his projects and in his life. At the end of the day, they won't stop him from doing what he loves and that is creating music. And he is one that will put in the work to get it done.

He gives me as not the type to say things or communicate things clearly, but in, I heard rhyme scheme, but the messaging won't be as clear, like a double entendre, so he will be covert about how he states things. It is like hidden messages is how he will communicate his messaging and what he wants to share. That was hard for me to explain, but interesting tidbit I got there.

He may have a sort of obsession with work and any type of passion he has. Whatever he is highly into. He devotes a lot of his time and energy into it. I feel he may do that with his craft and work. He is highly ambitious and does what he can to make his goals come to fruition. He does not like wasting time, sitting idle. He wants to get to work and get things done. He may not even have much time to play and have fun.

I don't see him wanting to tap into his emotions all that much or go to deep into that. I see him not that very connected to that energy. He can be a bit cold and serious, not that warm and gentle of a person. He is about getting things done. He isn't about sitting and ruminating over things. Even if he dealt with some trauma. He doesn't seem like the type that will get distraught about it. He would understand it is the name of the game, I hear, yes, he would feel shame, but it is what it is, he moves on and gets to work.

He does have an energy of devotion and loyalty. I could say to his work and craft, but this could extent to people. He has this energy of needing to be of service to others and using his skills to help provide that service. I see him not being the type to break commitments or any promises he made. He is loyal and stand by his commitments. Although very passionate and determined. He seems to know when to stop and he doesn't cross certain boundaries. I can also see this as him not letting others in and maybe not being too vulnerable around others. He keeps a boundary and a distance there. It is like there is a certain line you don't cross with him.

Okay, he gave me a bunch for this last Tarot spread. Dude is all about the Benjamin's and advancing his career. He gave me 3 cards of pentacles. He is all about financial investments and finding ways to make money. He may want to be rich af He seems to have lots of ideas as to how to do that and take different avenues to get there. He will take different routes to get the money he wants, but I also see him as someone who likes to keep busy and keep the money flowing.

With the world and the star, he wants worldwide recognition, to be a star, to shine bright like a diamond lol He wants to travel to different places, experience new cultures, venture into new things. He seems to want all eyes on him and all the attention he can get. This is so Leo energy here. He has passion, determination, a bit of an ego, has lots of creative ideas and has the energy to make his dreams come true.

So, even if he been through some things. He has thick skin and can manage anything that comes his way. I just keep hearing the lyrics, I get knocked down, but I get up again. You can't keep this man down. He is tough as nails. And mostly doesn't give af. As long as he can create and succeed, keep trying him, he doesn't care lol I kind of like this energy. I don't see him caring to much about relationships or connections with others, which is funny. Hopefully he cares a bit, because connection is important, but he got money on his mind and using his craft to make it happen. I do see him devoting time to his craft, it isn't just the money, but that helps.

[vicaria-san]

yes, basically what I enjoy to think about Blaine and the Klaine dynamics sometimes ^^^ though, I think it's more like he does understand Kurt in calmer private moments, but then when he's in the mood for fun and impulsive, he can be a little foil to Kurt in public and Kurt has learnt to forgive and love him through all.

...

But back to the subject of Superpower!AU sorry I want to ramble off from your response too!

"the topic of blaine, empathy and how he processes his feelings is so fascinating to me so…" YES that's why I think Empath would be such a fascinating superpower for Blaine. I don't think Blaine needs superpower to feel empath - canonly, I think he has been displayed he is able to read people very well when he pays attention to. Empath Superpower is basically he isn't just able to read them but READ AND FEEL THEM VERY WELL, UNINTENTIONALLY AND CONSTANTLY - so you can imagine how hilarious it is, if Blaine - someone who is shown to crave positive responses in canon - got to constantly feel positive responses from others whenever he performs, which would explaine why he can sometimes so wild and impulsive - because he is SO HAPPY WHEN OTHERS ARE HAPPY.

(So you help you understand about Empath superpower: The user can fully interpret the emotions, moods, and temperaments of others without reading apparent symptoms, allowing them to understand introverts or discover one emotion is actually hiding another... (powerlisting.fandom.com/wiki/Empathy))

So yeah, in short, I think Empath would be a perfectly funny superpower for Blaine to have because it's the kind of power that would make Blaine thrives but also a foil to himself lol.

...

On another note, to answer your tags about Kurt superpower, I've thought long and hard about this to eventually has an answer that I'd be happy with. (But no, probably not mindreader because I'm afraid a delusional-and-conniving Kurt Hummel can only thrive with this kind of superpower lol. And I want a superpower that helps Kurt thrive and a foil to himself instead)

So I select Invisibility. To elaborate, think of how Kurt can totally thrive with this power: he can still totally schemming evil plans and stuffs - and seeing how he always acts innocent after doing wrong things, imagine how he would love this power and the ability to deny doing anything at times.

Additionally, thinks of how in many performances (esp in s1 I think) when other members dance and sing, and Kurt just sat there, close-off and clearly not wanting to join in. And look annoyed or even murderous when people want him to join in. it would be funny imagining Kurt keeps disappearing whenever others ask him to join in the songs that he doesn't like. And last but not least, IMAGINE HOW FUNNY IT IS FOR KURT to desperately want to turn invisible right away whenever Blaine sings about Kurt's feelings unintentionally in public, but he also HAS TO stay visible because "he wants to keep a good impression with Blaine" or "wants to show he's supporting him." Imagine that funny mental conflicts!

But of course, Invisibility would also be a personal foil to Kurt in the way he has to learn not to dissappear from his friends and loved ones whenever he's in pain and wants to close-off, and has to stay visible so they can support and comfort him. Which would be so lovely conflict as well~

...

Oh! But to answer your response as well, I agree that it makes their relationships much more special, in spite all of their worst tendincies and superpower shenenigans, which is for Blaine to face his real feelings and not focusing on others emotions and for Kurt to be honest with blaine and not dissappearing or closing off when he's embarrassed or hurt. This conversation honestly enrichs my fantasy about their superpower!AU

i forgor to say this earlier in my animal post but i also think some blaine songs are inappropriate because they seem to capture more how KURT feels at that moment ABOUT blaine, but because blaine is singing it, it feels like hes making fun of him. just evil.

some examples:

dont you want me in biota with rachel. lingering the shot on kurt while blaine is singing “dont you want me” just after he made out with his frenemy. you will go to hell blaine anderson. fuck this guy!

why would he do this?

misery in original song. youre doing this on purpose. the only one in misery is kurt and youre laughing. there aint nobody who can comfort him and youre LAUGHING.

animal in sexy. your ass is not feeling hopeless about a one sided crush you cant seem to figure out if you should act on it or not. you sing “i wont sleep tonight” because you will be jorking your peanits. kurt is singing it because he will be agonizing about your dumbass.

FUCK THIS GUY‼️

[vexedmilky]

"We need more male SA rep!!!"

Y'all couldn't fucking handle them

[oceanwithouthermoon]

yk when i think about it, especially when im watching the anime with people who havent read the manga, the reason a lot of people who only watch the anime and didnt read the manga misinterpreted saikis character so badly is definitely in part because of how damn fast paced the anime is 😭

like that little smile and eye shine frame is there for not even half a second in the anime, so its easier to miss it and assume that he really did only finish those workbooks to get coffee jelly ☠️ its much more clear if you get a good look at how he reacts here that hes just a silly little tsundere and a fucking liar

[genericpuff]

LO stan brain rot is vehemently defending a comic that you're swiping through so fast that you miss and forget crucial plot points, like thinking Demophoon was the reason for Demeter being a helicopter parent despite him being born during the 10 year time skip while Demeter was mortal.

LO anti/critic/hater brain rot is being able to look at an out-of-context panel of a character with same face syndrome turned greyscale and name exactly which character, scene, and episode it's from.

We are not the same.