#and publish those

[jonnywaistcoat]

hello! i’ve been recently scrolling the internet and have recently found a concept that you might find interesting. i’m not sure if you already know, but here in the US we don’t allow for there to be any officially lost submarines on record. this means any submarine in our military history that hasn’t returned is not considered missing but still on their mission.

these submarines are called “still on patrol” submarines and there’s about 52 of them ww2. this concept made me think of you because of how easily it can be taken in a more spooky sense.

but a very sweet tradition we also have is that a military radio operator will send out a message to these submarines every year to wish them and merry christmas and let them know that we remember them.

anyways, i just thought this was a lovely concept that might interest you! have a lovely day 💜

What a fantastic and resonant piece of information - go write a story about it!

[spicyvampire]

BIBLE WICHAPAS SUMETTIKUL as GREAT PACHARAWIT SRIWATSOMBAT in

4 MINUTES (2024) EP. 3

[salemoleander]

Double Life is so funny to reflect on

bc at the time it was (given 3L -> LL game mechanics and how each game evolved from the last) clearly intended to help with balancing; assigning random pairs to try to alleviate the skill disparity of his friends. And then we get to see Grian real-time speedrun the 5 Stages of Creator's Grief as he realizes that RNG has somehow striated everyone by skill level

But in retrospect, as a piece of narrative, it is one of the most compelling and enduring seasons to engage with. It resulted in pairs that betrayed deep and fascinating character traits. Without a mechanic literally forcing them together we never would've gotten a season of only pairs; a season where Impulse & Bdubs married via clock, where Cleo & Martyn had so many solo discussions, where Joel & Etho burned together in the end. Their similarities, RNG be damned, were precisely the thing that made the season so fucking good.

[clonerightsagenda]

I've started noticing content warnings start popping up more frequently in the front of published books, and I'm curious as to people's thoughts on that. So, poll time!

[snipdoodle]

Aaaaaah I love drawing my fursona!!! I love them!!! She's like me!!! But not really but in spirit I suppose!! I wish I was a vaguely feminine but overall ambiguously gendered feline creature!!!

[starheavenly]

Deadlock, Ratchet, and Pharma toxic yuri love triangle. Inspired by bloominglegumes dratchet yuri cause they're so big brained

[fudgelling-away]

When you try to give people what they want and write [REDACTED], [REDACTED] and some [REDACTED], but the baby girl keeps taking your notes and pens away...

[show-us-kaidenshenandoah]

every time i watch anything with him in it (admittingly, predominantly from the Dropout app), i am reminded that Lou Wilson is the most handsome man to have ever lived. like, objectively. he just is. i will hear no arguments for any other person to be ranked higher. Lou Wilson: whose face single-handedly shows humanity can go no higher in beauty. he is THE most attractive man in the world. argue with the wall lmao

[jackdaw-kraai]

Honestly, I’m not writing Din getting absolutely railed by the powerful Jedi he’s been pining over out of a dislike for twinky, delicate Lukes and aggressive Dins (though, y’know, no thank you on those two), but rather, as a cosmic weight to balance the scales. Because so help me gods I will fill this hole in the fandom singlehandedly if I must

[tusks-and-claws]

The Death of Peace of Mind

Miguel O’hara x female reader

Summary: "I miss the way you say my name/the way you bend, the way you break"

You think your fearless leader needs help relaxing, but another door is opened entirely

Tags/warnings: smut (18+), oneshot, fingering, blowjob, pronebone, blood, biting, unprotected sex, paralytic venom, dominant Miguel, dirty talk, God there’s so much to list : )

Word count: 3.3k 

Can also be found on Ao3 here. Please give it some love if you enjoyed ;_;

-

"I know better than this, I shouldn't be… we shouldn't be doing this."

Miguel O'Hara sat at the edge of your bed, your room softly illuminated by a candle on the bedside table. He liked the dark. His back was to you, his broad shoulders slumped forward, as you had your back against your headboard. He was still in his suit, his mask off.

"Miguel…" you said, starting this conversation again for the umpteenth time. "You have needs, too, y'know." 

He waved a hand dismissively. "What are my needs when compared to all this?" He gestured to nothing. You weren't even at HQ. You were both in your dimension. A vacation, you had said. You could never get him to leave HQ for long. "I know what happens when I try to get what I want. When I go where I don't belong."

You furrowed your brow. "But you do belong here, I invited you."

"You know exactly what I mean." He spoke quickly. Trying to expel the words as fast as possible. 

Your arms crossed over your chest as you eyed him. He'd been through a lot, yes, but what Spider hadn't? How long was he going to keep ignoring himself for the greater good? What purpose would he serve if he tore himself apart? 

"You're right," you said, finally. 

"What?" He asked, peering over his shoulder to look at you, incredulous. 

"You're right," you repeated. "You can leave."

"I… well. I suppose I can leave. Do you… want me to?"

You suppressed a smile. "I don't really care," you lied. 

"You…?" He turned around at that, hands on the bed as he swiveled his torso to meet your eyes. "You can't be serious. I- I made the effort to make sure Jess could cover me so we could come here, I… it's a huge waste of time. You see that, don't you?" 

"I guess so." It was hard for you to break eye contact with him, but you managed to do it, and stared pointedly out the window. 

"You 'guess,' I can't-" he rubbed his face with his hands. "You're so frustrating, I can't read you, you-" 

Your face broke, betraying you, a smirk cracking your façade.

He narrowed his eyes, fully turning around now, bringing his knees up onto the bed to crawl to you. His claws came out, and they pulled at the threads of your comforter, threatening to tear holes. "Is this what you want? You want to make me mad?" 

You blushed as he made his way to you, his sudden intensity stirring you into silence. 

"Well?" He asked. "Suddenly so quiet." He reached you now, looming over you with both hands on the headboard on either side of you, his muscular thighs straddling your legs. His huge frame took up your whole vision, his presence overwhelming your heightened senses. Heat was radiating from his body. His scent washed over you. He was all clean musk and warmth and something deeper, something primal. It played to your baser mind, telling you to lose control and give in. 

You swallowed. "You have no need to stay here." You weren't done teasing him just yet. 

"But you have need, hm?" He looked down to study your form, releasing his hands from the headboard to touch the hem of your shirt. "Don't you?"

You held your breath, nodding.

"Say it." His tone was casual. Flippant.

Your breath left you as your lips parted to speak, the words far from you as your brain grew foggy. He always liked to hear you admit how much you wanted it, how much you wanted him. And he always asked you when he knew you'd struggle to form a response. 

"Yes." It was the only thing your brain made abundantly clear. Yes. Yes, you have needs. Yes, in this moment, he was one of them. 

"Yes what?"

How cruel. Under his gaze for this long, intense and bloodshot, you grew more flustered and delirious. 

"Yes, Miguel, I have need of you." You impressed yourself with the eloquence of your reply. 

"Oh? Oh, do you?" His hands finally moved again, snaking under the bottom of your shirt, the fabric of his suit keeping your skin from touching his. "That's kind of selfish of you, isn't it?"

You nodded, biting your bottom lip and closing your eyes as his hands moved to firmly hold the sides of your waist, thumbs stroking soft skin. He was being careful to not scratch you. Though his claws were retractable, you noticed throughout your encounters that he had a hard time keeping them hidden when his passions were running high. But part of you didn't care if he marked you up. Part of you wanted to keep something from him. Something more than awkward passing glances and intimate encounters that were few and far between. 

"M-Miguel?"

"Mm? What is it?"

"You don't need to be gentle, y’know."

His gaze flicked to meet yours as he raised an eyebrow. He seemed amused. 

"It's just that," for some reason, you felt the need to elaborate. "I'm strong, too. I can handle it. You've been so stressed."

"So… you want me to use you?" His voice was low and level. 

Use. The word sent a shock up your spine. He could see the emotions flashing across your face, the thoughts of him, of what he might do to you. Was this safe? Could he control himself? He'd have to. You'd just have to trust him. 

You released a breath you hadn't noticed you were holding, meeting him in his bloodshot eyes. "Yes. Please."

He grinned, bearing his pearly fangs in the flickering candlelight. The fog in your head grew thicker at the sight of them. Would he bite you with them? How would they feel against your skin? How would they feel piercing you? Would it hurt? Would it-

The feeling of his bare forefinger, claw retracted, gently teasing your slit quickly shut you up. When did he move his hand under the hem of your shorts? You were so deep within your own clouded thoughts, you hadn't even noticed. He caressed you there before carefully plunging his finger into your heat. The feeling was immediately maddening. You bit your lip to keep yourself from asking for more, for another finger, for his mouth, for his- no. You were following his pace. This was what you wanted, yes, but it was mostly for him. You somehow knew that he needed this more than you did, though he'd never admit it.

The whole time, he kept his reddened eyes on your face, studying every reaction. "You're wet, you're so wet…." His voice was quiet. "So, this is what does it for you, huh?" He pumped his finger at a steady pace. You could hear the wet sounds he elicited with his efforts. You braced yourself on his hulking shoulders, preparing for him to quicken at any moment. But he was agonizingly slow. His free hand gripped the headboard above you as he leaned down to whisper into your ear. "Me, your leader, using you." There was that word again. You lightly arched your back into him upon hearing it, trying to keep yourself calm for now. Falling apart could come later. "I try so hard to hold it all together. But you… you threaten me. The looks you give me, your smiles, your smell, estoy cachondo, fuck." Your eyes widened. He only spoke Spanish when his emotions were heightened. He was unraveling. 

Good.

He slipped his digit out from inside of you and circled your clit with a slick fingertip. The feeling was intense and electric, and even though you were still half-pinned by his muscular thighs, your upper body curled into him. "Seeing you like this…" he swallowed, his heartbeat quickening. "Rendering you helpless… It's revenge for how you make me feel when you look at me the way you do. If I can make you feel half of that… that might be enough. You're going to come for me. Feel what I feel." 

You nodded fervently, unable to speak under his attention, his words, his touch. That delicious, warm feeling was building up and coiling in your core as he kept expertly circling your clit, until the coil finally snapped and you came, lifting up off of the bed and throwing your arms around his neck as you whimpered. Miguel continued as you rode it out, reveling in the newfound wetness that came with your orgasm, until you finally settled down, your heart still thumping in your chest. You released your hold of him, your arms weak, your gaze heavy. He seemed to match your labored breathing, his chest rising and falling in time with yours. You had hardly even touched him and he seemed as much of a mess as you were. 

He stared at you like that for a brief moment, seemingly awestruck at your reaction to this newly opened door. 

"God, I need… I need your mouth around my cock." He flipped unceremoniously off of you to lay on his back at your side. "Come here." Before you had time to react, he had a hand on your head, guiding you downward. Despite the forceful movement, he fondly scratched at your scalp with bare fingers, his hand shaking just enough for you to notice. You positioned yourself so your head rested on his hard abdominals while you admired the display he brought you down to see. His hard cock pushed against his nearly metallic suit. The sheen of the fabric left almost nothing to the imagination. You could see his thick shaft, prominent veins like rivers flowing over a landscape, all leading up to the bulbous head. He twitched eagerly as he sighed, trying to calm his heart. 

You reached your hand up to touch Miguel through his suit, and his reaction was bodily. He hissed a breath in through clenched teeth. You played with his hard length, running the flat of your palm up and down the underside of his shaft, until he couldn't take it anymore. He seemed to be able to dismiss parts of his suit at will, and he did just that, creating an opening so he could spring free. It was always an impressive sight, sizable and thick. His golden skin slightly red with anticipation at the head of his cock, soft dark waves of short hair at the base. Reaching up, you gently held it. You couldn't quite wrap your whole hand around it. He exhaled at your touch, skin on skin. The hand he had in your hair gently pushed your head until your waiting lips met the tip of his cock, and you accepted it, closing your mouth around it.

Miguel threw his head back, slamming it against the headboard and shaking the two of you on the bed. The sound startled you, but you knew the headboard would've taken more damage than Miguel. He gave no indication that he was hurt, and so you kept going, sucking on the tip of his cock and being as noisy as possible so it would overwhelm that heightened hearing of his. And overwhelm it did. The soft, wet heat of your mouth was nearly too much for him. And as you started to take him deeper, he reached his arms up and behind him, taking the headboard into a vice grip. You could hear the wood splintering. 

That should've worried you, you should've cared about your furniture being destroyed. But you didn't. You couldn't, not with Miguel O'Hara melting underneath you. He could destroy a thousand bed frames. So long as you could touch him, could hear him moaning, could watch him as he barely held his composure. This would always be worth it. 

You took him further into your mouth, humming around his length at the pleasant,  full feeling. You were slow, holding him there, savoring the taste of him and the weight of him on your tongue.

"M-move-" he croaked.

You turned your gaze towards his face, raising an eyebrow. He was straining. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, fangs displayed in clenched teeth. You could see the prominent cracks in the wood.

"Move your shocking head, amor."

His hands came down to tangle with your hair, grabbing handfuls so he could move your head for you. You happily let him, and he bobbed you up and down on his shaft as you opened your throat to him. 

"Oh, fuck, yes… that's it. Good girl. You're- you're taking me so fucking well." 

Your eyes started rolling into the back of your head fondly. Good girl. He'd never called you that before. You'd be good for him. You'd be so good. 

The sounds coming from you were the very definition of lewd, as were the strands of thick saliva that connected you to him. You closed your eyes, continuing to breathe through your nose, when you felt something prick your scalp. His claws. In and out, in and out. He was struggling to keep control of them.

"Ay, coño, I can't fucking do this." His voice barely a whisper. "You're gonna," he paused, swallowing. "You're gonna make me lose control, you know that?" Despite his words, he kept going, kept moving your head, even started to thrust his hips up to fuck your throat more thoroughly. His moans turned into what could only be described as growls, and the sound of them hit you like an electric shock, making you want him even more. If that were even possible. 

His claws kept scraping you, threatening to fully unsheath. But Miguel never let them. He finally let your head go, bringing his hands up to his face and rubbing it in exhaustion. You stayed on his cock for a moment longer, carefully lifting your head away and disconnecting from him with a wet pop.

He groaned to himself through his hands. 

"Miguel…? You alright?"

"No." He finally said, "no, I'm fucking not."

You cocked your head in surprise at the response, opening your mouth to question him further until you were cut off by him quickly grabbing you and positioning you underneath him. He was pinning your legs again, but you were faced down this time, your cheeks pressed against the soft sheets as he pushed you into the mattress. He finally let his claws out, and with one swift movement, tore your shorts and panties into ribbons. In that moment, you were glad he couldn't see your face. You were grinning like an idiot. Finally. You're finally seeing the side of him that you always knew was there. That you desperately wanted him to let out. Your previous encounters had been tame compared to this. He'd been holding back. 

"Because now," he grabbed your waist with both of his large hands, holding firm. "Now I know that you like being treated like a little fucktoy. I know that you'll be good for me and that you'll listen. What a rarity." He started to line up the tip of his cock with your entrance. "And if I thought you took up too much space in my head already, well-" he chuckled, pushing his tip into your pussy. "I'll never have peace of mind again."

He thrusted into you, and you were immediately seeing stars. With each pump, he took himself nearly all the way out of your warmth before plunging all the way back in. You could feel every delicious, hot inch of him. So deep and so filling. He fucked you into the mattress so thoroughly and so hard that you were convinced a crater was forming underneath the both of you. You felt the sharp points of his claws pricking your skin but not quite puncturing you. Your head swam as you grew dizzy. 

He released your waist, left hand steadying himself on the low headboard, which was bound to break again. His right arm snuck up underneath your right arm, reaching around your collarbone to grab at your left shoulder, pulling you up so you were close into him. His chest was flush with your back. You reached up to hold onto that arm for dear life, as he brought his mouth down to your ear. 

"Wanna bite you so bad, amor," he growled. "You smell so shocking good. Drivin' me up a fucking wall."

"Do it," you said, your voice strained.

"Wh-what?" His pace wavered. "You can't mean that."

"I- fuck- I do. Bite me, Miguel. Please."

"Are you," he exhaled a shaky breath. "Are you sure? It's a paralytic venom. I've- I've used it on Spiders before and we can withstand it a bit, but, shit… I need you to know what you're getting into." 

"Do it," you said again. 

His entire body shook against you. "Unbelievable…." His voice sounded reverent. "Hold on tight."

You listened, gripping his arm harder, shutting your eyes. His mouth came down to meet the crook of your neck. He inhaled, letting your scent wash over him, before carefully sinking his fangs into your skin. The pain was sharp and fast, and was quickly replaced with a wave of warmth and laxity. Your muscles loosened, allowing him to easily pull you in even closer. He moaned against you, his thrusts quickening, his cock feeling like it was hitting your cervix. With every smack of his skin against yours, he buried himself to the hilt. That incredible, intense feeling was building within you again, deep inside your core.

"Fuck," he hissed into your skin, releasing his jaws and lapping at the light trickle of crimson blood. "Good girl, good girl, I've got you."

He held you and didn't let go, caging you against his huge form, fucking you until that feeling turned into a huge sunburst that sent spots across your vision. Your body trembled involuntarily as you clenched around his cock. 

"Yes," he encouraged, "yes, come for me. Give it all to me. I've got you, bebé."

You smiled against the venom, and he was right, it wasn't too potent in your system. It was just enough to comfortably loosen your muscles. You came down from your high as he kept pumping into you, his pace merciless. His body started to shake again, his right hand's grip on your left shoulder tightening. 

“Too much for me to handle,” he rasped. “I’m gonna come… gonna come inside you.”

“Yes,” you croaked, finding your voice and gaining back enough control of your muscles to push yourself up into him. 

His tempo stuttered as he slammed his hips into you, curling against you as he came. His cock twitched inside of you, spilling hot seed in thick spurts. He held you there for a long while, savoring the feeling of being inside you, like he knew he'd miss the warmth once it was gone. Despite what he wanted, he let go of you and flipped onto his back beside you, placing a hand over his heart as his chest heaved. He closed his eyes, trying to compose himself. Silently reaching for you, he pulled you in so you could rest against his chest, your head rising and falling with each heavy breath he took. He stroked your hair as you stared up at him, his face glowing in the yellow shine of candlelight. 

"That…" he started to say, then stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I…. I needed that." 

You smiled, nuzzling into him. "Thank you." 

"You're thanking me?" He asked, laughing at how ridiculous it sounded. 

"Yeah," you said. "I feel like I finally saw Miguel tonight. Not Spider-Man. But Miguel. And I really like him." 

He rolled his eyes but still smiled, petting your head until you fell asleep on him.

[haine-kleine]

anyway. the ending was like That because it was Izuku's hero academia. it was his story told from his point of view and it concluded all the plot points he was concerned with, like his relationship with Bakugou, Allmight, the public's opinion on the heroes, what the new generation of heroes is going to be like, how Shouto is perceived by the public, Izuku's general relationship with his former classmates and Aizawa.

he never really cared about Shigaraki outside of their brief confrontation. he didn't really know Shigaraki as a person, and nor was he interested in getting to know him, even when he got the chance to peek into his past, Nana and Allmight had more reason to be interested in who Shigaraki the person was. to Izuku, Shigaraki started as a terrifying villain and ended as a crying boy he was unable to save. this is why, as he joins the rest of his classmates and becomes a pro hero, he imagines the ghost of Shigaraki looking over him, haunting him, reminding him of his failure but also inspiring him to try harder and 'keep reaching out'.

The villains were the ones concerned with their stories. Spinner wrote that book by himself, as Izuku's notes are being written at the point the book has already been published. Izuku never mentions any contents of that book nor Spinner or Mister Compress. Because they do not belong in his story, not really.

They belong with each other, in the League of Villains, as they have proven time and time again how important they are to each other and how far they are willing to go to protect their own. Shigaraki's thoughts before Izuku had killed him were all about the League. Kurogiri's last act was trying to save Shigaraki from AFO and the heroes. What kept Spinner's spirit from crumbling after losing everyone he had cared about was his burning desire to tell their story to others, to let their stories be heard. Touya finds no solace despite getting everything he had ever wanted from his family and being reunited with them - because his place was in the League of villains, the place where he was accepted just as he was, unconditionally.

the conflict of heroes versus the villains led to nothing but devastation and destruction for the villains. even those who were heard out and validated by the other party ended up becoming victims, or martyrs.

after that experience, after having a whole crowd of pro heroes, the people who made it their lives career to save others witness his destruction by the man who stole his body from him and by the boy who swore to save him, why would Shigaraki be interested in keeping in contact with these people, had he survived? why would Kurogiri go out of his way to let Shirakumo's friends know he had survived their students attempt to take his life and the life of the boy he wanted to save, all because they couldn't accept his affection for that boy outweighing their long gone friendship? why would Toga, when the reporters and the heroes saw her body after starting to transfuse all of her blood to Ochako and not even bothered to pick it up, to save her life or even to bury her?

here is how it went: Kurogiri did end up successfully saving Shigaraki, the fact going unnoticed by the heroes because both of their bodies were crumbling. he had also taken Toga, which is why her body wasn't picked up together with Ochako (and why Ochako doesn't have any memories of Toga's dead body, only of her final words to her). and then Kurogiri teleported them far away, where they healed and started planning how to get the remaining three LOV members back, while they are still alive.

they broke Spinner and Compress out of the prisons. In memory of Twice, Hawks had covered it up, as long as they don't resurface as villains.

Shigaraki and Toga had considered letting Touya stay together with his family, up until the news of Endeavor's disgraced villain son being on his deathbed got out. On the very next day, Shigaraki broke the tank Touya was residing in to pieces. Enji and his sidekicks had covered his eldest going missing by holding a funeral ceremony for him (the second one, this time knowing full well it's a fake funeral). Shouto was enraged with his father's decision and Enji used Shouto's just starting pro hero career as an excuse, don't you want to have a clean start, without the weight of mine and Touya's crimes weighting you down? It's not like Shouto has a choice in the matter, just as when he was a kid. The family wonders about the missing one's fate. Sometimes, Shouto gets messages from unknown numbers. He doesn't share them with anyone, except for Natsuo, who is still devastated about not using his one last chance to reconcile with the brother he had been so sorely missing for 8 years.

The ghosts of Toga, Shigaraki and Dabi live on, haunting the heroes who failed to save them. Himiko, Tenko and Touya also live on. They are very different from these ghosts.

[justoneotherthing123]

Okay but like he's not working as a video essayist anymore though. He was trying to rebrand on tiktok and the "free advertising" the "Online Leftist Discourse Industrial Complex" gave him made him stop doing that. It's because people keep pointing out that he lied and scammed people that he's not currently lying and scamming people on youtube and tiktok.

On the hbomberguy subreddit there's a weekly thread talking about good youtubers that aren't as famous. It's a weekly thread that's trying to give attention to people with less clout in their community who do deserve that attention. They've been doing that for months. By contrast, they spent five months NOT talking about James Somerton until they found out that 1) he was trying to go back to tiktok, 2) also he was never sorry about plagiarism, and 3) he was absolutely manipulating people with that suicide note.

I know that some people out there consider all criticism a personal and hateful attack, but do you maybe think there's a reason why The Left™ chose to show that this specific guy had two alt accounts? Do you think they chose to show the tweets in which he goes "plagiarism and lies are no big deal, stop being angry about it," "if plagiarism and lies are a big deal then his cowriter did it," and "you people made him kill himself" for some reason? Do you think it may have something to do with him trying to rebrand on tiktok after he wrote a suicide note that made a bunch of people call the people who accused him of plagiarism and lying of being murderers?

[mearchy]

I really love Jaster Mereel, the most “fine then I’ll do it myself” guy of all time. Like, after he killed his corrupt superior UHC style and got exiled for it he could’ve been on that vigilante shit. And he did come back ready for a fight- but not with a battalion, or another assassination. With a fucking entire new system of living and governing contained in a codex he wrote himself, based on ancient laws he wanted to resurrect. By all accounts he wasn’t even in academia or government before that moment, he was a cop. And the best part is he fucking managed to create a majorly consequential schism in Mandalorian society purely on the strength of having actually really good ideas in that big-ass academic magnum opus he spite-wrote. That’s some Protestant reformation shit!!!! I wonder if someone said to him during his sentencing like “you can’t just make up your own laws because you disagree with the ones we have” and he said oh word?? Insane, I love him.

[thenecropolix]

I don't know who to send this ask so I'm gonna leave it out here for the public because it just came to me out of the blue: locomotive literature

And I don't mean literature about locomotives, but rather literature written by locomotives

Train biographies detailing their lives on the railway and documenting how things have changed since they were first built

Ghost writers publishing literary works written by trains

Trains with human editors sitting on their buffers as they write down what their engines say and making adjustments for those especially picky or who's words cannot be transcribed because they will be banned otherwise (looking at you Duncan)

Just

Train authors you guys

[thesandsofelsweyr]

This might be an unpopular opinion, but I can imagine Jay would be kinda toxic in a relationship. But only because of all his abandonment issues ;-; Thoughts?

Oh he’s hella toxic 😬 Especially, Arkham Knight-era Jay. Canonically I don't think he could ever hold down a relationship with everything he's been through 😞 As you said, he's got wayyy too many trust issues stemming from abandonment/brainwashing/ptsd/abuse.

But I also desperately need him to find a lover (gotta have that comfort to go with all of the hurt); a gardener for his delicate rose; someone who makes him feel warm/safe/needed/loved; a saint with the patience of a toddler's parent, lmao.

A few of his toxic relationship traits, imo (please share more if you have any!)

controlling with a jealous streak

quick to anger. He's got a fiery temper with a penchant for throwing things. I don't think he'd actually raise a hand to his s/o but I can see there being close calls, like him punching the wall instead of that person.

extremely self-centered. It's a survival mechanism, not only from his time in Arkham but also for not giving into his depression/suicidal ideations.

always second-guessing the relationship he's in. He's gonna be convinced that his partner will leave him at the drop of a hat, so he's always gonna be on edge, reading into things, ready to assume the worst about his partner.

can get pretty rough in sex. His partner needs to be very firm with their boundaries.

Just picture being in a relationship with that guy from the game who's kicking doors in, screaming at everyone non-stop, throwing threats of bodily harm around to his own men, kidnapping a found-family member, putting her in a scary/dangerous situation, displacing countless Gothamites, leaving a city in ruins, not caring about collateral damage in his quest for vengeance, picking a fight with his dad in the most destructive way imaginable. (And he freaking stomps a rat into mush in the comics for no reason 😡) That guy's not gonna be a fairy-tale love interest LMAO