#i need people to tell me they hate me or tell me they love me and i need to be able to believe what they say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

slurmpinheimer · 10 hours ago

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from @cyber-harpie !! spit that shit homie!! I thought this deserved to be seen because it brings up a lot interesting points—and I do agree with this, though it got me thinking again. I would like to add a few things to my initial statement because analysis and talking about Kim is fun;

(WARNING: MAJOR KIM-RELATED YAPPAGE BELOW)

I’ve watched several play throughs where (especially at the beginning of the game/if they have low psyche) people aren’t sure of Kim, or even go so far as to call him annoying, a buzzkill, or an asshole. At first I found myself getting really defensive about this. Obviously not to the point that I made any hate comments or anything, that would be silly— But just in my head, automatically dismissing it because I love him and didn’t want to hear it. I couldn’t imagine anyone disliking him, instead of thinking deeper and considering *why* people might come to these conclusions.

I believe the bits we get from Esprit and Empathy support my initial point that Harry is the perfect narrative device to meet Kim through. If I remember correctly, Kim was written specifically to find Harry funny, and Harry’s skills let us see that. and that’s IF you succeed the checks, or if you’re dedicated enough to save scum to see other possibilities/go through Fayde to see what other options might have held.

Like, before I learned about the end of the Homosexual Underground thought line, I certainly had my suspicions. I definitely thought Kim was at least queer-coded and headcanoned him as gay, but that thought trail is behind a legendary Composure check that I spent like 10 full minutes save-scumming. I had low motorics on my first run, and I only tried so hard because I had been spoiled and knew that it gave a thought called “Homosexual Underground” and needed to see where that led with my own eyes.

That’s just one example too—There’s several times that Kim Lore is behind hard checks (Ace’s High/Low, that tidbit about him smoking weed lol) or things he just refuses to elaborate on without specific circumstances. Plus there’s all the stuff that you can learn when you play a different quest line. I’ve had several people tell me that going through a fascist ends up with Kim actually being pretty open about things you don’t learn about in other questlines. I don’t even know all the details of that yet because I’ve been so busy doing the other quests and achievements that I haven’t finished a fascist run yet.

My thought process with all this is that without seeing Kim through the lens Harry, who works with him almost constantly for a week straight in a situation where deep and meaningful conversation is not just encouraged but *needed* to build a repertoire and ultimately solve the case—Not to mention the patience and care Kim treats Harry’s situation with—I can see how someone would look at Kim from the outside and find him to be… (anguish at typing out this word) …mid.

So yeah. On the surface level; Kim is a cop. He can be condescending and uptight, sometimes leading into lecturing people (something he himself admits). He plays his cards close to his chest, with both his moralist beliefs and even more so his sympathies for the rebellion—Which can make him look a bit like a fence sitter. He can be emotionally unavailable towards himself and others, making him hard to read and sometimes appear cold.

But past that, he is a beautifully crafted, deep character, and the perfect foil to the chaos that is Harry. He is the man that reaches out to shake your hand even though you ghosted him two days prior. He will pat you and give you a handkerchief when you throw up. He can be the man that sticks up for you time and time again, not just because he needs to in order to solve the case, but because if you really try, he believes you’re a good detective at heart. Past suicidal rants and nervous breakdowns, he encourages you to keep going.

He has been beaten down, ground and polished to a smooth finish by mutiple facets of oppression—from his glasses, to his race, his sexuality, all fundamental parts of himself that he cannot change. From years of working in a high-pressure, volatile work environment with low pay and little benefits other than the small satisfaction of completing a case, only to dive headfirst into the next one.

He pushed aside his lofty dreams of the skies to be down with the rest of us in the dirt and mud, trudging, struggling through life until we all inevitably burn away the fuel reserves and are nothing but smoke, a memory in the mind of fire.

Beyond that carefully constructed exterior, past his wall of professionalism (and habit of using his notebook as a shield) hides a goofy nerd, a lover of crosswords and cars, of silly radio stations, and a deep appreciation for beautifully bearded muscular men. He is an expert user of sarcasm and master of cryptic jokes, some even philosophical or political in nature. At his core, he wants to make things better for the people around him. He wants to believe he can make a difference, no matter how long it takes or how small the change is. Even if working for the RCM destroys him before he can see it come to fruition.

He is wonderful. He is amazing. He’s probably my favorite character all of fiction, and I don’t think there will ever be a day in my life that I stop loving him. That’s pookie you’re talking about. I’ll always have space in my heart for him.

He will live on as long as we do, as real as The Man From Hjemdall is to Roy because Disco Elysium *made* him real, handcrafting him, giving him life between margins and pixels. And that is worth everything.

Kim Kitsuragi is a fascinating character because there's not that much fun or interesting or compelling about him. And yet somehow over the course of playing Disco Elysium the game rewires your fucking brain around him. He's the middest man you've ever seen in both appearance and personality but at some point he says something kind to you or something critical of you and you feel like you just got hit by a truck and you need his approval like you need oxygen and like how tf did this happen. what are you

#I did not expect to be writing that long #Um #enjoy if you like yapping about kim ig #LMAO #disco elysium #kim kitsuragi #text post

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fulfillpurpose · 20 hours ago

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I hate the thought of having a baby I can’t think of anything worse. I’m 20 and at university and see this bright future ahead of me. But my boyfriend is a bit older (30) and desperately wants me to be pregnant. But apart from the fact that I really don’t want children, I don’t want to drop out of uni and I love the way my body and life is.

My boyfriend is threatening to breakup with me if I don’t at least try, and I really can’t lose him I love him so much. But I don’t know if he loves me as much as I love him because why would he ask me to do this? I’m so confused and don’t know what to do. He says if I’m actually serious about him and love him as much as I say I do then I should give him my contraception pills to look after

I'm going to answer this seriously, because it seems like you're looking for actual advice.

Your boyfriend is abusive. This will be glaringly obvious to everyone who reads what you've just written. You should break up with him as soon as you safely can, and you should be extremely careful about your birth control in the meantime.

You're completely correct: this is not the way someone who loves and cares about their partner would act. "If you loved me you would" and "I'll break up with you if you don't" are well-worn tactics of abuse, and he's trying to use them to override your most important needs in an irreversible way. Deliberately having children is not something you should ever do unless both partners are fully on board, and this is the nightmare scenario: one partner not wanting it at all and the other one trying to pressure them into it.

This is also a very familiar pattern: he's 30, you're 20, he's trying to force you to get pregnant so that you're dependent on him and isolated from all your current support networks, with no way to get out. Age gaps like this are concerning precisely because of the possibility of abuse, and the abuse looks exactly like this.

One more thing I want to address:

I really can't lose him I love him so much

Someday you're going to look back on this and say "I can't believe I ever thought that was love." You're 20, and if this isn't your very first relationship as an adult, it's surely one of the first; you have so much ahead of you. You're going to find someone who genuinely loves and cares for you, and when you do, you're going to realize that this relationship was like a cigarette, not a campfire: it could burn you, and poison you, but it couldn't keep you warm.

Take care, anon. Tell some people you trust about this, and look for domestic abuse counseling resources at your university. You're in a very dangerous place right now, and you need to focus on making it through safely.

#fp: reality

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graveyardgremlins · 3 days ago

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WIP ALERT WIP ALERT

What makes death so special that everyone seems so scared to talk about it? It is not as if, in this universe, it’s the end of the line. Not really. If anything, it felt more like the beginning of something.

Now, routine feels like the end of it all. Even when you’re a vigilante and everyday is a surprise, it still feels like slowly withering away. Like, if you stop moving you’re going to start rotting on the spot. But for some reason, people love routine and hate death.

Dick, for example, constantly looks terrified. It’s not obvious, as no feeling in our faces is ever obvious, but I can tell it’s there. He once said, mournfully, that we would bury Bruce like he is now, with jet black hair. The thought upset him, but I still don’t understand why. It’s not as if Bruce cares. Sometimes it feels like he is trying to speed up the process.

And sure, it would suck not to be able to see someone you care about ever again. But if Dick truly is so scared of missing Bruce, he can go knocking on Constantine’s door — or Zatanna’s, or Madame Xanadu’s, or Doctor Fate’s, or Jason Blood’s, or… you get my point — and ask for a seance. Besides, it’s not as if you can say the guy wasted his life. No one on this Earth has more accomplishments under his belt than Batman himself.

So why the long face?

Like, sure I get why they look weird every time I bring up my past death. I was a kid and all that. But they seriously need to stop looking at me like I’m planning to kill myself everytime I bring up my future death. I’m not planning to die any time soon, but what if I do? Are they going to lose their shit again?

I mean, Tim literally cloned his best friend as a manner to bring him back from the dead because he couldn’t cope with him being gone. Not to say I’m terribly worried about the Imposter missing me so much as to clone me, but still. What if I die? Are they going to try to bring me back? Because I don’t think I want that.

Death was easy, you know? It was awful up until the point where it wasn’t. I don’t remember much, but I remember being warm and embraced. And then someone dragged me back screaming and kicking. Then I woke up boiling alive, with the skin falling off my bones in the middle of the Assassin’s League Headquarters.

I’m not particularly excited about being boiled alive again.

No one in this family knows how to let go and Bruce is the worst one. I used to be so mad that his grief wasn’t enough to make him kill the Joker. I wanted him to prove that he loved me like he said he did. But I was a recently deceased and resurrected teenager. I firmly believe that the only reason Jesus reacted better to being murdered is because he was already thirty three. Now, as an adult, I’m less mad.

Bruce deals with grief like this: he doesn’t. He lets it eat him away. I think he likes it, the feeling of rotting from the inside out. Maybe that’s why he likes routine too. I think he has a lot of love inside of him that, instead of showing it, he reschedules it. Like he thinks “tomorrow I’ll show it” and then never does. And when I died, maybe he didn’t have anywhere to put that love anymore. There wouldn’t be any more “tomorrows.” So he just rotted.

It’s why I try not to be jealous about how endlessly patient and affectionate he is with Damian. Or how careful he is with Tim. Or how much interest he takes in everything Duke does. Or how he always listens when Steph talks. Or how he always comes when Cass calls him. At least, I served to teach him a lesson.

So, yeah, when I got an invitation to a Ghost Ball, I didn’t tell anyone. Because they don’t understand why I linger in the cemetery. They don’t understand why I kill, when they believe I should be the first one to be against death. They don’t understand why I keep talking about dying over and over and over. They just don’t get it.

Also, they would totally ruin this moment for me. I’m sure of it.

How many times do you get invited to a ball? Not those shitass galas the Waynes always go to. A real authentic 1800’s ball. With the lettering cursive invitation, sprayed with some kind of perfume, sealed with a gold wax coat of arms. Not only that! To what was an official celebration to the Ghost King’s 21th birthday.

I didn’t even know there was a Ghost King!

Sure, it’s probably a trap. This kind of thing is always a trap. But they had addressed the invitation to “The Red Knight of Gotham, Avenger of the Damned, Cursebreaker, Three Times Born, Wielder of the All-Blades, the Darkest Star” and, if I am to be honest, flattery will get you everywhere with me.

I’m not entirely sure what the “Darkest Star” was in reference to, but it’s the least of my concern. The theme of the ball was Black, White and Neon Green, which completely fucks up my aesthetic. The last time I wore green I was a Robin and I’m particularly inclined to never wear it again. I’m also not wearing a tuxedo. Maybe a black suit over the armor instead of the usual jacket and a neon green handkerchief.

Now the problem is getting fitted for a suit like that. Every rich motherfucker knows that just sending your measurements to a tailor that never met you in person before is the recipe for a disaster. And sure as hell there is not a single tailor in the Crime Alley. Not that I know of. And there is no way in hell, or heaven or wherever the flying fuck the Infinity Realms were, I’m showing up to a real ball looking anything short of dreamy.

So, I did the reasonable thing and texted Alfred.

If you could come by the Manor, Master Jason, I will see what can be done. He texted back.

There is a theory going around the midst of superheroes that says that the one thing all of the bats have in common is how stubborn we are. It’s true, but I don’t think we learned that from Bruce. I’m pretty sure that’s just the Pennyworth in all of us. That man clearly only still works as a butler at 65 and calls us all “master”, “miss”, “mister” and “ma’am” out of pure stubbornness. I have no evidence of this, but I’m working on the theory that someone at some point betted that he would crack eventually, which is why he hasn’t. That I know of.

So, I showed up at the Manor like he asked me to.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Tim asked.

“I live here,” I answered.

“No, you don’t.”

“Unless someone touched my room, which I doubt, then yes, I do.”

“When was the last time you were here?”

“Last week. I dropped by to move all your furniture 1 inch to the left counterclockwise.”

“I knew it! I knew someone was touching my stuff! Steph said I was crazy!”

“You are, but I touched your stuff. Like all of it. Including your Monster collection. You should really clean that, by the way. It’s disgusting.”

“Fuck you.”

Someone cleaned their throat and we both turned around to see Alfred standing in the hallway, looking less than impressed. I’m pretty sure we learned that from him too.

“Sorry, Alfred,” Tim said.

Alfred sighed and then turned his frown towards me.

“What? I didn’t curse.”

He raised one pointed eyebrow and that’s all it took.

“Sorry for touching your stuff, Timberlake,” I said and turned to Alfred again. “Happy?”

“I suppose that will suffice.”

“Yeah, fine,” Tim agreed and moved out of the way to let me in. “Just never do it again.”

“Oh, I’m definitely doing it again.”

“Why?!”

“Dick told me to stop whining and start getting on that, and I quote, ‘big brother grind’, so you and the Demon brat are going to have to endure it.”

“Why not Duke?”

“He is obviously my favorite.”

Tim just groaned and followed us to one of the upstairs closet.

“What are we doing anyway?”

“We are doing nothing. You weren’t invited.”

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit,” Alfred said, ignoring me.

“Why?” Tim asked.

“What are you? A Toddler? Why do you think?”

“Well, you sure as hell aren’t going to the galas—”

“Damn right, I won’t.”

“And you’re definitely not going on a date—”

“Wait, why?”

“Because.”

I turned around to fully face him. “What do you mean ‘because’?”

“Just because,” Tim made a vague gesture with his hand. “You know.”

“No. As a matter of fact, I don’t know.”

“You know,” He gestured again. “Because.”

“Because what?”

“You’re chronically single.”

“What?!”

Tim threw himself on one of the sofas that was turned towards the closet and sank into it. “Chronically single. Chronically, meaning in a persistent and recurring—”

“I know what chronically single means!”

“Then you know.”

“I’m not chronically single!”

“How long ago was your last relationship and how long did it last?”

“That does not mean I’m chronically single! I get bitches all the time!”

“Perhaps, Master Jason, refraining from referring to your partners in a demeaning manner might be the first step to improving your romantic aptitudes.”

“I don’t– I’m not– Ugh!”

“Try this suit on. I think it will be the closest to your current measurements.”

I took the suit from his hand and closed the closet door behind me.

“So,” Tim said, “If you’re not going to a gala, you’re not going to a date, then where are you going?”

“None of your business.”

“It’s not a birthday, because I’m pretty sure none of your friends is an Aquarius–”

He kept talking and I tuned him out. The pants were a bit too tight around the knees, so they would have to fix that, and the jacket sleeves were a little too short. Besides that, I liked the red lining inside, as well as the flower pattern that almost disappeared into the black. It wasn’t very on the theme, and I would risk looking a bit christmassy, but it would be worth it. I did need a neon green handkerchief, though.

“It can’t be Two-Face, because he is still in Arkham and also not your usual target. Black Mask has been quiet, so maybe him,” Tim was, somehow, still talking.

“What are you talking about?” I asked, opening the closet door to let Alfred take a look.

“People you might be planning to make a move against in a place where a suit might be necessary.”

“Maybe I just want a suit, ever thought of that?”

“You’re fitting it over armor,” Tim pointed out.

“Touché.”

“Tt, it’s too tight around your knees,” Alfred commented.

“Yeah,” I agreed. “Oh, Alfred? Do you by any chance have a neon green handkerchief?”

Alfred made a face. “I do not own any monstrosity of that sort, Master Jason. Why do you ask?”

“Because the theme is Black, White and Neon Green.”

“Wait, you’re actually crashing a party?”

Alfred sighed and made another disgusted face. “In that case… This suit won’t do.”

“Sorry, Alfred. I didn’t write the dress code.”

“Of course not, Master Jason. I would expect that you would have a better sense for fashion than that.”

“And for your information, I’m not crashing a party. I was invited. Not that you know what that’s like, Stalker.”

“Who would invite you to anything?!”

“Not telling.”

“C’mon!”

“Perhaps the Zegna will look less… clown-like with a neon green handkerchief than the Armani,” Alfred said, mostly to himself.

“Did I hear, Armani?” Selina’s honey-dripping voice came from the corridor, and she poked her head inside the room. “What are you boys doing hiding here?”

“I’m getting fitted for a suit.”

“He is going to a party and I’m trying to figure out which one,” Tim answered at the same time as me.

“Oh! That sounds fun! Do you need help, Alfred?” She asked and slid into the sofa next to Tim.

“I’m afraid I am at a loss, Miss Kyle. The theme of the evening is Black, White and, ugh, Neon Green.”

She made a face very much like Alfred’s own. “Where are you going, Kit Kat? The Riddler’s birthday isn’t until July.”

“Not telling you, either.”

She pouted and pulled Tim’s face near her own, he understood what she was doing a minute later and pouted too. “Please?” They said, like children.

“Nope. Not happening.”

Selina shrugged it off, not particularly bothered, but Tim seemed to still be fixated on the issue.

“Have you tried that Slim-fit Hugo Boss brown suit, Alfred? I think it will make him look distinguished amongst the neon green aberration,” she said.

“Is it a winter party of some kind?” Tim asked.

“Not giving you any tips, Timmy.”

“Actually, Master Jason, that could help us find a better suit.”

I sighed. “I don’t think it is specifically a winter party. I think it's just a coincidence.”

“So it is a celebration of some kind!”

“I’m. Not. Telling. You.”

“No need. I will find out eventually.”

Alfred brought out the Hugo Boss brown suit and held it up for Selina to see.

“I think it will clash, Miss Kyle,” he said.

“I think you’re right, Alfred,” She tapped one manicured finger to her lips. “This party is not of someone we know. Is it, Kit Kat?”

I shrugged.

“Why do you say that, Selina?” Tim asked.

“Motherly instincts.”

The door behind them opened again, this time to reveal a mildly disgruntled looking Bruce. His hair was a mess and he was wearing a sweater and sweatpants. He was definitely sick.

“What are you guys doing here?”

“Are you sick, old man?”

He sniffed. “Seasonal allergies.”

“Jason is getting fitted for a suit,” Selina answered.

“Oh?”

“And I’m trying to find out why.”

“Oh.”

“You guys are nosy,” I said.

Alfred brought out another slim-fit suit and both Selina and Bruce made a face. “Yes, I imagined so,” Alfred said, disappointed.

“What kind of party is it, chum?”

“Not telling.”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green,” Selina said, and both her, Alfred and Bruce grimaced.

“Jason, please tell me you’re not going to the Riddler’s birthday party.”

“Of course, he isn’t, silly. The Riddler’s birthday is July 21st.”

“Oh! Should I send a present?”

“It would be very polite,” Alfred said and Selina agreed.

“If this party is of someone we don’t know then it must be someone you met recently or a very long time ago. But if it was from someone you used to know, you probably wouldn’t be using an expensive suit, and if it was someone new we would have heard of it already,” Tim said.

“What makes you think it is someone we don’t know?” Bruce asked.

Selina raised her hand with a cheeky smile. “If we knew them already, little Kit Kat wouldn’t be so worried about imprrrressing them. We would have embarrassed him already.”

“I’m not worried about impressing anyone.”

“You’re getting fitted for a suit,” she pointed out.

“Yes, because I outgrew all my other suits and I can’t wear them with the armor. It’s not as if I’m buying a new one,” I rolled my eyes.

“If you’re wearing your armor are you worried about being attacked?” Bruce asked.

“Is it a mission then?” Tim asked. “Otherwise, why would you be going to a place where you might be attacked?”

“Good point, champ.”

“I’m not answering any of those questions.”

Bruce pondered for a second. “Have you tried the gray Kiton wool suit? It might null a bit of the neon green.”

“Ooh. Good idea, love.”

“Let’s see if you’re correct, Master Bruce.”

“I’m texting Dick to see if he knows anything.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“Father, have you seen Alfred Jr?” Damian’s voice rang from the corridor.

“Not really, Dami.”

“He is probably in that warm spot in the library where the sun hits just right,” Selina said and stretched as if she could feel the warmth from here.

“Thank you, miss Kyle,” Damian poked his head inside. “What are you doing here?”

“You’re welcome, Damian.”

“I live here.”

“Do you?” Bruce asked.

“Do you?” Damian asked, fully walking into the room.

You see? This is why I can’t tell them anything about this ball. Or else they will want to come with, they are nosy like that, I’d have to explain to every cute person I meet why I brought my entire family with me when the invitation didn’t even have ‘plus one’ on it.

Jesus, maybe Selina was right.

“Master Jason is getting fitted for a new suit, Master Damian,” Alfred said and held the gray wool suit.

“Yeah, that doesn’t do it either,” Selina said.

“What is wrong with the suit?”

“The theme is Black, White and Neon Green.” Everyone grimaced at that. They really needed to stop repeating the same thing over and over.

“What is the occasion?”

“Kit Kat won’t tell us.”

“Nope.”

“I’ve talked to Dick!” Tim announced. “He has no idea who could be, but his best guest is someone Jason met with the Outlaws! So I’m going to text Cass, so she can text Artemis and see if she was invited to anything.”

Damian sat on the opposite arm of the sofa and pondered.

“How much have you narrowed it down?”

“Someone we don’t know, someone dangerous, possibly on a mission, not a winter party,” Bruce said.

“Birthday?”

“No gift.”

“Maybe it’s someone I don’t know enough to buy a gift to,” I said, just to throw them off.

The three of them narrowed their eyes at me.

“Yup, talked to Artemis. She doesn’t know anything,” Tim said. “Also Dick is calling.”

He put it on speaker so everyone could suffer together.

“Hey, guys!”

“Hey, chum.”

“Hello.”

“Hey, birdie.”

“Sup?”

“Jesus Christ,” I rubbed my temples. I could feel a migraine coming up.

“Jason! The man, the myth, the legend! Will you tell your big bro where exactly you’re going? I promise to keep it a secret.”

“Not even on your deathbed.”

Alfred brought out another suit. It was also gray and it still did not match neon green.

“C’mon, Little Wing! Don’t be like that! It can be that bad for us to know.”

“It’s out of principle.”

“That reminds me,” Tim said. “Dick, go screw yourself.”

Alfred made a face at that, but didn’t comment anything.

“Wait, why? What did I do?”

“Why did you tell Jason to ‘act like a big brother’? He touched all of my stuff!”

“I’m sure he didn’t touch all of it.”

“Oh, I didn’t look under the bed, but besides that? It will be very funny when you start finding the glitter.”

“What?!”

“Ah, is that why Jon found a lot of superboy merch I did not buy in my closet?” Damian asked. “Well, I must say that is not a good prank. I’m not embarrassed to say I’m my best friend’s biggest fan. Though, he did cry.”

“You say that now, because you haven’t found the bees.”

“What bees?”

I simply smiled. This wouldn’t work on most of my siblings, but Damian was small enough to be fooled and once he believed it, the others would follow.

“I swear to God, Jason. If I find glitter on my clothes I’m putting a skunk inside your house,” Tim said.

There was also no glitter, but now he would check everything first. Forever.

“Why would you do that to a poor innocent animal?” I said, to be contrary.

“Yeah, Tim. Leave the animals alone! It’s not their fault Little Wing started a prank war.”

“Yes, Drake. I’m disappointed you’d even think about this.”

Alfred brought out a deep blue suit. Selina sighed and slumped down the sofa and Bruce shook his head.

“Hey, Dick,” I asked. “Do you have any suits that might fit me and that will look good with neon green?”

“Why do you ask? Don’t tell me Poison Ivy is your plus one.”

“Alright, I won’t.”

“Poison Ivy is light green, not neon,” Tim said.

“And Ivy is too old for you,” Bruce said, pointedly. I rolled my eyes.

“I don’t think I’d have anything either way.”

There was a moment of silence while everyone considered, perhaps the color neon green or perhaps Poison Ivy.

“I figured it out!” Damian shouted suddenly. Selina flinched from the noise, and he apologized quickly. “Sorry. But I have figured it out.”

“What?” Everyone asked. I wasn’t particularly worried, it’s very hard for the little brat to have known about a King I wasn’t even aware of. Though, maybe Ra’s did know it before me.

“Regular-fit Dark Grey Virgin Wool Serge from Hugo Boss,” Damian said profoundly.

“What?” Tim asked.

“The suit that will go with neon green.”

Alfred, Selina and Bruce thought it out. “Yes, I believe that might work, Master Damian.”

“Good job, son,” Bruce said, making my insides twist painfully.

Selina simply raised her hand over Tim’s head so Damian could high five her.

“That still doesn’t answer where he is going!”

“Who would do a Neon Green party? Besides the Riddler, his birthday isn’t until July.”

“How do you even– No, actually, I don’t want to know. Thanks for the help, Demon Brat.”

“You’re welcome. Now tell us where you’re going.”

Fair enough. “To a birthday party,”

“Goddammit! It was the first thing I crossed off!”

“Of whom?”

“None of your business, old man.”

“C’mon, tell us Little Wing.”

“What are we trying to find out?” Duke asked, walking into the room. “And why is everyone here?”

“Jason is going to a birthday party and he won’t tell us who's is jt,” Tim said.

“Oh?”

“And I’m getting a suit fitted.”

“Oh.”

“Don’t worry, though. I’ll tell you whose birthday it is later.”

“Hey!”

“Wait, why?”

“Yes, why him?”

“Oh, Duke is my favorite.”

Duke smiled innocently at all the people in the room and did a little twirl.

“That’s not fair!”

“Hey, this is your fault. You told me to be an older sibling.”

“Older siblings don’t pick favorites!”

“Of course they do. Damian is your favorite, I’m Cass’ favorite, Duke is my favorite, and Tim is no one’s favorite.”

“Screw you!”

“Don’t worry. When Bruce adopts another one you can be their favorite.”

“I’m not adopting anyone.”

Everyone in the room raised an eyebrow at that — yet another thing they got from Alfred — and Selina patted his hand. “Whatever you say, love.”

Alfred fitted the suit perfectly, to the point where that one guy on twitter that talks about male clothing would applaud. And he did find a neon green handkerchief, though he would only buy it if I promised to burn it afterwards, which I swiftly agreed to. I considered bringing a present, but something I learned from the filthy rich is that it’s always better to look like an asshole rather than a fool.

And so the suit saga ends and the ball saga begins.

One would think that an interdimensional being called the Ghost King would think of better ways to direct his guests towards his party than a set of coordinates and another number, which I quickly realized to be the hour in military time. Of course, one would be wrong. So me, my bike, my beautiful suit and my weapons directed ourselves to the middle of bumfuck nowhere, literally in the middle of Nevada's desert.

God, I am going to arrive at this party covered in sand.

#danny phantom #dp x dc #dead on main #fanfic #jason todd #danny fenton #dp x dc fanfic #fanfic writing #WORK IN PROGRESS #wip #jason todd x danny fenton

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imjustdreamingig · 2 days ago

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Isn't that sweet, I guess so

Part 1, Part 2

pairing: Steve Harrington x fem!reader

summary: The secret's out, Steve's proud of himself, and you can't seem to keep your mouth shut

A/N: chat there is no way I put out 2 fic in the past week, this has never happened to me before! yay everyone cheer. again, i have no idea where this story is going how far im gonna go, i def want to try writing other stuff and idk if this is the best place to put and end to whatever this series is but again, we shall see i guess. thank you all so much on the love on my last two works you have no idea what that means to me! please please PLEASE send me asks or comment what you'd like me to write next or if you want a pt4 i need help people

warnings: sfw, swearing, fluff, idiots who like each other

Facing your fears is tough. No matter what it is, no one would actually choose putting themselves through a situation in which they know would cause them extreme distress. For some that may be going on a rollercoaster, interacting with a clown, going into a dark forrest alone, it could even be making a phone call by yourself to schedule a doctor's appointment (which is a valid fear to have, thank you very much.)

And here you were, facing your fears: being sat in your living room with Steve Harrington 3 feet away from you for an extended period of time. It's only been about 15 minutes, where no talking has happened since minute two.

You hope you can get to 30 minutes without fainting.

As you attempted to focus on the book in front of you, Jane Austen's words, who usually kept your focused for hours on end, were not being absorbed by you in the slightest. How could they, when Steve fucking Harrington was in your house.

Steve is the type of guy who Jane Austen would write about, you thought, eyes flickering towards him as he hunched over his book, face crinkled in concentration, trying to understand said author's musings.

The swoop of his hair, the two moles near his neck, his deep, beautiful, chocolate eyes, his gorgeous smile, and my god those arms? Yep, Jane would be absolutely obsessed with him.

"God, why did I agree to do this book?" You are snapped out of your daze at Steve's words. "What do you mean?", you replied. He gave you a look that can only be described as "seriously?"

"I mean, that I can barley understand what any of these characters are saying half the time, and honestly, it's a bit boring. I thought you would have better book recommendations," he said, running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face.

A scoff left your mouth before you could stop it. "Excuse me, are you actually hating on Pride and Prejudice, the best romance story of all time, the romance story, period." You leaned over and snatched his book. "I mean, come on! You are literally only 6 pages in, you can't just judge it that quickly, you haven't even gotten to the good parts yet!", you exclaim.

Steve watched you with an amused look on his face, unbeknownst to you, who kept rambling on, trying to convince Steve this book was worth continuing.

"— and Elizabeth, she is just funny, like actually hilarious. There is one part where she basically tells someone that I'd rather not be wasting my air talking to someone like you, like please, how did she even come up with that? Also, I'm just obsessed with this proper English style of speaking, or writing I guess, because they're basically talking shit but covering it up with fancy words! And when—"

"You talk a lot, don't you?"

You look up from the book and towards Steve, eyes widening slightly, realizing you had indeed been talking too much.

"One of my greatest faults, some may say, and by faults I mean my mom, but she only tells me this when we're arguing, so..." You glance away from Steve's face for a little reprieve. God, he's so hot.

"Well, like a good partner," you continue. "I'm trying to help you get some of this project done, and maybe if Robin were here, she could've helped," you defended yourself, crossing your arms, "which I'm still confused about, by the way. You said something about her telling you earlier how I invited you guys and some other people to work on the project together, but then she doesn't show?"

Steve leans back in his chair, also crossing his arms. You glance down for a quick second and send a quick thank you to anyone who's that Steve is wearing a tight shirt that beautifully enunciates his biceps. Or maybe you should be mad at them, you don't know yet.

"Maybe it's the fact that she noticed, like I did, that it's been a month since this project was assigned and we haven't even started," Steve countered, "which is unlike you, you usually want to get stuff done ASAP."

You look at him in confusion. "How the fuck do you know that?"

Steve smirks, "I also happen to know that you don't have a sister, thanks to that lovely dinner with your mom." You shake your head in disbelief, mentally making a note to yell at your mom later.

"Isn't that what you said one of the many times I asked you to work on the project?" Steve looked so amused with himself, all cocky and proud that he had uncovered your lie. Your brain tried desperately to come up with a realistic enough explanation, but nothing was coming up.

You throw your hands up in defeat. "Ok, fine! I lied! Is it just so hard for you to believe that maybe, just maybe, not everyone in that high school wants to spend time with you outside of it?" Oh my God, why the fuck would you say that, you screamed internally.

Steve stared at you for a second before letting out a chuckle. " You know, I did think of that actually, but only for a bit." He reaches out for the book and grabs it from your grasp, flipping to a random page.

"You can only run away from a guy so many times before he catches a hint," he peers over at you, " and I mean literally, you're a fast runner, did you ever do track?"

"Yeah, in middle school," you answer quickly. Steve lets out a hum of agreement before placing his attention back on the book. You open your mouth, about to quip about being careful to not rip the pages when he speaks again. "I know I'm dumb, but I'm not an idiot, ya know?"

Your gaze snaps to his face. "Steve, I don't think you're dumb." He doesn't look too convinced. "Eh, I think you do. But you're interesting, you took me a lot longer to figure out than the others since girls just typically throw themselves at me."

You make a face of disgust, "Ok, you sound like a total prick, you know."

"Yep, heard it after I said it, but that's not the point here." He point his finger at you, "You have a crush on me."

You splutter out a sound of indignation. "Hello, what?" In your head, fire alarms are sounding. It's a code red, all hell is breaking loose. "Pfft, no I absolutely do not."

Steve raises his eyebrows. "Then how else do you explain the running away when you see me anywhere at school? You always have an insane excuse why we're not able to meet up to start the project, which some are hilarious," he admits, "but you've got me complaining about not doing homework, look what you've done to me!"

At this point you've gone silent, mouth agape with an excuse stuck in your throat refusing to come out. Steve's expression has changed, his eyes bore into yours with earnest, almost as if he's anticipating a certain answer, hoping for it. "So?"

You muster all the courage you have left and just when you're about to respond, Steve interrupts you again for like, the 15th time.

"Anyways, I've to get going, have some things to do and whatever." He gets up, shrugs on his jacket and then places his books in his backpack. You get up too, having absolutely no clue how to tell him not to go, that you want him to stay. "Steve, what do you mean?"

He glances over at you, "Nothing, I just have to go. I'm a busy guy." He starts making his way to your front door, leaving you behind in the kitchen, trying to understand what the fuck just happened. First, he accuses you of having a crush on him, which you do, and then he just thinks he can leave?

Oh, absolutely not.

With a new wave of determination, you catch up to Steve just as he's finishing putting on his shoes. "Say thanks to your mom for me for dinner, it was great," he says as he grabs the door handle. You don't let him continue with whatever stupid thing he was going to say next.

"Listen Harrington, I don't know what the fuck just happened back there, but the fact you think can just, leave after dropping a bomb like that is ridiculous," you say, glaring at him in annoyance, and Steve's just staring back at you with that stupid, stupid, smirk that has not left his face since the moment he stepped foot in here.

"So what if I did like you, huh? What if I did have a crush on you? Because I do, but that, quite frankly, is none of your business, none of your concern, actually, so... yeah." Steve is looking at you and you're looking at him, a little out of breath after your declaration. You don't have the energy right now to fully process what you just said.

All of a sudden, Steve seems to break character, the smugness gone, replaced with subtle endearment. He leans down and presses a swift kiss on your cheek before whispering, "Well, it's a good thing I like you too." He straightness back up and says, "I told you I knew you were different, you're a mystery. You're lucky running away seemed to work on me, by the way. I don't think it would for everyone else," he says while you stare at him in shock. You've been rendered silent once again, with nothing but the thought that Steve likes you back, repeating over and over again.

You clear your throat before speaking, "Well! Um, yay?" You truly have no idea what to do right now. Steve chuckles at your reaction, like he can't believe his words have caused you of all people, who continuously talk and talk and talk, to not have anything profound to say for once. He's kind of into it.

Steve grabs your hand and encases it with the other. "Come over to my house tomorrow after school, I'll drive you. We can work on the project and you know, talk, if you want." You nod fervently, "Yeah, yeah ok."

He smiles and drops your hand. "I really do have to go though, I wasn't making that up," he remarks as he opens the front door. "Oh, sure, that's fine," you reply. You hold open the door for him and watch as he descends the steps and makes his way towards his car. You watch him, holding onto the door for dear life.

As Steve gets into the car, he looks over at you and waves, "I'll see you tomorrow!" You wave back and yell back, "Yeah, tomorrow!" You don't go back inside until the car is out of sight. As you shut the door, you press your back against it, trying to wrap your head around what exactly happened in the last few hours.

Holy shit, you though, Steve Harrington likes me. Steve fucking Harrington. You let out an involuntarily squeal of excitement and immediately regret doing it as your mother calls down from upstairs. "Mija, are you ok? What happened?" Hearing her voice reminds you of her involvement over the events that transpired tonight.

Putting your happiness on hold for a moment, you start to storm up the stairs. "Mom!", you yelled, "How could you embarrass me like that, asking him to stay over for dinner, you know how I feel about him, I just about fainted 5 times throughout the night, how does that make you feel!? You almost killed me an—"

You would thank your mom later, because ultimately she helped, but for now, you'll stick to this.

#what am i doing #stranger things #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington x you #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fic #steve harrington x y/n fluff #steve harrington x fem!reader #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington x female reader #stranger things fanfic #fluff

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cheshirewrites · 2 days ago

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Luka gives the girl a thorough look over, noting her knotted hair, the dirt smudged on her cheeks, and the thread-bare state of her clothing. Holes in the knees of her trousers, patches on her elbows (clearly hand sewn, he knows that much), even the fabric of her bandana fraying at the seams.

She looks like an ordinary girl, one who has faced far too much peril during his father's rule.

"Are you certain?" Luka asks his guard for a second time, because he doesn't want to be wrong about this. Doesn't want to put the weight of the world on a little girl because of a false prophecy. "You're sure-"

"Yes, my prince," Fox says, grinning their sharp grin. "My love, my dear, you know I wasn't misinformed. The Misses aren't wrong about things like this."

And they're right, of course.

Ari and Dahlia were the best advisors a prince could ask for.

So when the two of them found a prophecy, claiming that a girl who shared his birthday would grow to hate the world, would try and burn it to the ground if she was left alone? Luka just wanted to find the girl and hold her close, apologize for everything he hadn't done and everything he hasn't changed yet. Prophecies are complicyed, after all, and Luka refuses to look at someone and only see the bad in them.

People deserve more than that from their prince, their king, their- whatever title Luka gained when Fox convinced a Dark Lord to overthrow the throne.

( After all, Fox is the best person Luka knows, and Gods know that Fox isn't innocent, no matter how sweetly they may smile. )

"Do you want some cake?" Luka says, and he knows how strange it must look. The prince and his guard, offering you cake in your own home, and on your birthday, at that. "I promise it isn't poisoned or anything, my aunties Dahlia and Ari made it, and both of them think poisoning is a cheap way to fight."

The girl stares up at him for a long, long moment, until something like amusement creeps onto her face. "Sure," she says, taking a few steps closer. "I've got some questions, though, and I want answers."

Luka grins at that. "Of course!" He says, almost shouting. "Can I ask you one, tiny thing first?" A nod. "What's your name? The Aunties told me a few things about you, like where to find you, but they left that out, and-"

The girl holds up a hand, and Luka falls silent. His grin turns sheepish. "Sorry."

"Don't worry about it, Princey," she says, grinning. "The name's Cassandra, but most people just call me Cass. Now-" Cass leans forward, crossing her arms across her chest- "Tell me about these aunties of yours."

"They're actually the reason I'm here!" Luka says. "Ari and Dahlia -- yes, that Ari and Dahlia, the long dead Hero and Dark Lord, it's a long story -- told me I needed to find a girl who shared my birthday, and well," his voice trails off, "you might wanna sit down for this bit."

Cassandra -- her name is Cassandra! --gives him a questioning look, but sits down at her table anyway. "I'm seated, Princey," she says, nearly sounding reassuring. "What terrible news do you have to deliver? You look like you're gonna tell me the world is ending, for fuck's sake."

Luka looks at Fox pleadingly, but his partner only shrugs. Both of them know that this is Luka's responsibility, even if Ari would be the best at it. She is the one who found the prophecy, after all, and Fox has told him word for word what she said to them that day they first met.

Their exchange isn't subtle, though, and Cassandra's jaw drops. "You're kidding me," she says, her voice perfectly even. "The world isn't actually ending, right?"

"No!" Luka says, and this time, he does shout. "No, no, nothing like that. It's just-" He hesitates, trying to find the right words. Knows that there aren't any right words, not when it comes to prophecies and royalty and the like.

It's better to be straightforward, right? Luka thinks to himself, and then takes a deep breath. That's what Dahlia always says.

"How do you feel about prophecies?"

You are a poor girl selling flowers. Today is your birthday but no one knows. When you return home you find the prince of the kingdom waiting for you with a birthday cake. "Are you sure this is the one?" He whispers to his advisor.

#cheshire writes #writing prompts #prompt fill #prompt fic #original writing #creative writing #my writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #fantasy #lgbtq

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yierrem · 15 hours ago

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dating headcanons - zzzero men edition pt. 2 ☆〜（ゝ。∂）

ft. gn! reader x asaba harumasa, billy kid, and seth lowell ; a follow up to my previous dating hcs (which can be found here) and a response to a request ( ^ω^ ) first post of the year（≧∇≦）i hope you enjoy reading!!

asaba harumasa

very clingy. when you're not together, he'd be texting you random little updates or beg for your attention just for the sake of talking to you if calling momentarily isn't an option. sometimes he tries to use you as an excuse to get out of work, but after he's done it a couple of times, you've become immune to always bending to his whims and suddenly he's whining about how you don't love him anymore.

["wait i'll look at your texts later brb love u ^3^" "so you hate me."]

an avid quality time enjoyer, if i've ever seen one. he's content with lazing around with you or doing mundane tasks that don't require much physical effort. likes cuddling against you when you're just sitting engrossed in doing something with your hands and reading or watching something together.

even though he usually appears and acts lighthearted, deep down, he's genuinely happy with you and the relationship you share. he cherishes every moment you can spend together and wishes it could go on for as long as he lives. you're the person he refers to as family when on one of his much-dreaded doctor appointments.

alongside the nightmares he already has regarding his sickness, he'd have times when he'd wake up in a cold sweat from dreams of losing or leaving you and the people he cares for. thankfully, on the days you sleep over, he has you; he's comforted by the sight of your sleeping figure and clings to you for the rest of the night.

on a lighter note, sharing a bed with this man is probably a chaotic experience on a dreamless night; initially, you'd both fall into slumber comfortably cuddled against each other, but the following morning, one of you would be seconds away from suffocating in a vice grip.

billy kid

loves playing games with you. he's usually competitive when playing against you but when you're both on a team together, he's suddenly the biggest cheerleader there is. if both of you lose, that's totally fine! you'll get it next time. what matters to him is that you had fun together.

deeply appreciates it and enjoys when you match him nerd-for-nerd, even if you don't share a lot of similar interests. you take turns randomly info-dumping about any piece of media or activity you're into and both of you pay genuine attention to whatever the other is talking about. he loves listening to you passionately talk or share anything about any topic because you do the same for him.

adding on to the previous point: both of you make jokes about liking your favorite fictional characters or celebrities more, just to be playfully petty.

["if you had to choose between me or monica, who would you pick?" "...well, yes!" "..." "alright, then. between me and /insert favorite character/--" "that's unimportant."]

after spending so much time with him, you already know which maintenance products he likes for himself or his guns. kind of like how other people know what shampoo or body wash their partner prefers. when you see he's running out and you buy them without telling him, he'll notice and be weeping tears of joy.

if you take a while to open up to him about certain things, he's alright with that and will tell you to take your time or give you the space you need. he's been the same when it comes to sharing his past with other people and understands that some things do take courage to tell.

seth lowell

despite having been in a relationship for a while, he most likely still gets easily flustered from any vaguely flirty quip and intimate gesture that comes from you. you could use this knowledge to your advantage but do have mercy on the poor guy.

[there was one instance where you gave him a quick peck on the lips without giving much thought to it before leaving and all he could do was stay where he was with his brain buffering for a whole minute.]

even though he's somewhat shy about expressing his admiration or appreciation for you and sometimes stumbles through his words when doing so, he's sincere in everything he says and does for you.

you're one of the very few people he trusts with touching his tail and ears. it's come to the point where when you're both just laying together, he wouldn't mind the feeling of your fingers gently rubbing on a certain spot on his ears while you run your fingers through his hair.

he appreciates that you see him for who he is and acknowledge his efforts to get where he is now. your affirmations, whether spoken or unspoken, mean much to him and he feels like he can truly be comfortable when he's around you.

sometimes, he unknowingly acts or does very attractive things and it just blows your mind. he'd steer you by the waist from bumping into things or, if you're shorter, accidentally pin you against a wall/surface when trying to reach for something from a high place because he just wants to help! you should be more careful, you know. but you've already mentally imploded while your sweet, sweet boyfriend remains clueless.

#zenless zone zero #zzzero #zzz x reader #zzz x you #zenless zone zero x reader #asaba harumasa #asaba harumasa x reader #harumasa x reader #billy kid #zzz billy x reader #seth lowell #seth zzz #seth lowell x reader

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thewhorecoven · 2 days ago

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I love it when people come into my DMs and try to turn me against my people. Like I would believe you, a stranger who comes into my house to check if there's any bad blood between us when we've never talked before.

None of this made any god damn sense. You blocked random people because of anons even tho we never talked before, because we never talked? But you're worried I don't like you and felt the need to tell me about it?

When three different coven members tell me they had negative interactions with you, when you tell me you don't know who is sending you anon hate because you have so many ops that you don't know which of them is doing it but you leave anon on to keep getting attention? Make it make sense.

Nah. Never. I stand with my people. Bye @kill-z0ne

#blocklist #block list

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genderqueerdykes · 14 hours ago

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Honestly seeing your posts about trans masculinity made us back track and reevaluate our trans-ness and realize-realize that we are a trans guy(or well partially).

For around 1 year we identified as transmasc and it was wonderful , until we started getting self conscious , we had friends who would constantly hate on men and would be like “ oh but not you though your a good one “ and we also had friends who dropped us after we started transitioning / not shaving our hair anymore because they said we were “ becoming the enemy “ and that “ we were betraying all women “ which stuck with us , we felt that by us being transmasc that would make us a threat to our loved ones and we then completely rejected our masculinity up until like 3-4 months ago. so like seeing your posts about trans men and masculine folks has helped us a lot so thank you so much.

-Sincerely a intersex transmasc system :3

that's actually so sad that people responded to you like that. why do people think it's okay to say this to others? like they just blurt it out without thinking or caring about how it will make the other person feel. even "joking" or being "sarcastic" about it is screwed up.

when people tell me i don't know what rad feminism is, i point to experiences like yours. this is exactly what they do and say

"you're becoming the enemy" "you're betraying all women/womanhood"

i need people to seriously analyze this verbiage. why are men and women supposed to be enemies? if we are trying to teach men that men and women are not enemies, why are we letting women who haven't grasped this concept get away with it, too? this is gender essentialism at its peak. men are not a threat to women. a "woman" becoming a man is not a betrayal to women and womanhood. you're not failing womanhood. you're not a woman. it doesn't apply to you. you can't fail a group you don't occupy just by being honest about your own identity

is becoming a woman betraying men? is becoming a woman "becoming the enemy"?

no?

okay, then realize how fucked up it is to say this to trans men. you have to care. trans men are people. you don't get to hurt us just because someone else hurt you. it's not going to solve anything. that's perpetuating the cycle of abuse.

#asks #answers #transmasculine #transmasc #trans man #trans men #transandrophobia #antimasculism #examples of transandrophobia #examples of radfeminism

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istoleyoursphenoidbone · 23 hours ago

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Would You Fall In Love With Me Again?

DPxDC (With a smidgen of Epic the Musical)

Okay, so yall really liked my last one (and thanks to all of you, I'm glad you guys enjoyed). I wanted to try my hand again and see how this goes, idk about you guys, but Epic the Musical has been my soundtrack for weeks now, and the Ithaca Saga has my heart so...Husbands!Danny and Jason torn apart due to bad resurrection? Why not.

Warning for referenced character death and blood mention, nothing too graphic, tho. Pit Rage makes people do questionable things, ya know?

The Justice League's meeting room was cloaked in unnatural shadows, the atmosphere thick with tension, like the heavy silence before a storm. A team from Justice League Dark stood in the center, preparing for a ritual. Zatanna, her voice a whispered incantation, traced glowing glyphs onto the marble floor. Constantine, who had been trying to tell them all this would be a bad idea, leaned against the wall, a cigarette dangling from his lips despite the no-smoking signs, while Doctor Fate floated nearby, his ethereal presence a calm amid the chaos.

Batman stood at the edge of the circle, arms crossed. He hated magic—always had—but these were desperate times. Jason Todd, the Red Hood, had been spiraling for months. His vendetta against Gotham’s Rogues had left behind a trail of bodies, destruction, and secrets too dangerous to let slip. But it was more than just Jason’s rage. Strange energy readings tied to the Infinite Realms had begun to swirl around his every move. Whatever connection Jason had to that otherworldly dimension had become unstable, and they needed answers—answers only the Ghost King could provide.

“Are we ready?” Batman’s voice cut through the room. Zatanna nodded, stepping back as the last glyph flared to life. “The summoning spell is complete. Brace yourselves. This entity isn’t like anything we’ve dealt with before.” Constantine snorted, flicking his cigarette to the ground. “Ain’t that just bloody reassuring.”

The air split with a deafening crack, and green light spiraled upward, forming a vortex. From it stepped a figure draped in black armor, a faint crown glowing above his head, his eyes burning with an eerie green light. Danny Phantom, the Ghost King, stood before them. "Who dares to summon the High King of the Infinite Realms?" His voice carried an unearthly echo, a stark contrast to the mortal men and women in the room.

Constantine muttered something under his breath—likely a curse—but Wonder Woman stepped forward, her voice steady. “We require your assistance, Ghost King. There’s a man, the Red Hood, aka Jason Todd, whose actions have drawn the attention of both our realm and yours.” Danny’s eyes narrowed, his posture stiffening. “Jason Todd?” Batman stepped forward, his voice rough but resolute. “He’s my son.”

Danny’s gaze snapped to him, the glowing green light flickering with intensity. “Your son,” he repeated, his tone colder now, sharper. Zatanna stepped in to explain, her voice calm but urgent. “Jason is targeting Gotham’s Rogues, several have been killed. But it seems he has a connection to the Infinite Realms. His ectoplasmic energy is spiking. We believe he’s drawing power from your domain, whether he knows it or not.” Danny’s expression darkened, and his voice dropped to a low, almost imperceptible growl. “And you want me to stop him.”

“Not stop,” Wonder Woman corrected gently. “Help. If he’s tied to your realm, we need to understand why—and how to sever that connection, if necessary.” Danny stood motionless, the green light in his eyes flickering with a mix of emotions none of them could decipher. After a long moment, he nodded, sharp and final. “I’ll handle it. Alone.” Batman started to protest, but Danny cut him off with a steady gaze, his voice softening, just a fraction. “You’ve done your part. Let me do mine.” Without waiting for a response, Danny turned and stepped back into the swirling portal, leaving the Justice League in a heavy, uneasy silence.

---

The Infinite Realms churned around Danny as he passed through the portal, an energy that mirrored the restlessness gnawing at his heart. When he had been summoned, he had expected a crisis—another rift in the realms or a rogue spirit threatening the balance, hell even just cultists trying to mess with the order of things again. What he hadn’t expected was to be summoned to deal with him.

Jason...his sweet and loving Jason.

As the portal closed behind him, Danny heard Batman’s grim explanation echo in his mind: Red Hood was spiraling. He’d already killed Joker, Riddler, and Two-Face. And it seemed like Penguin was next. The Pit Rage had taken hold, and no one—least of all Bruce—had been able to pull Jason from the edge. The Justice League had turned to him because the energy Jason radiated had drawn their attention to the Infinite Realms.

It had been twenty years since Jason disappeared from the Realms—twenty long years since Danny had watched his husband, the man he had married in death, pulled from his side and resurrected in the mortal world. For Danny, it felt like an eternity.

As Danny emerged from the portal into Gotham’s shadowed streets, the oppressive energy in the air pulled at him, thick with Jason’s rage. He could feel the ectoplasmic aura that surrounded him, like a storm cloud about to break. But more than that, Danny could feel the familiar tug of Jason’s presence. It was raw, chaotic—lost.

And Danny? He was all too familiar with being lost.

There was no turning back now. Jason was out there, a tempest of pain and blood, and Danny couldn’t stop the wave of dread that surged through him. This was his husband—the man he had fallen in love with, over and over again—and now he was out of control.

Danny’s eyes glowed as he moved deeper into the city, knowing that whatever happened next, he wouldn’t be alone in facing it. Not this time. Jason Todd stood among the wreckage of a smuggling ring’s hideout. The docks were eerily silent except for the gentle lap of water against the pier. Blood slicked his gloved hands, and his breath came in shallow, ragged gasps. The Pit Rage roared in his ears, demanding more—more destruction, more vengeance, and more blood.

The ghostly glow appeared behind him, and Jason spun, guns drawn. The figure emerging from the green light made him falter.

Danny.

Jason blinked, the haze of rage momentarily thinning. He couldn’t trust his eyes, not after everything. But the way Danny looked at him—with love, pain, and something infinite in his glowing green eyes—cut through Jason’s defenses. “Jason,” Danny said softly, his voice trembling but steady. Jason lowered his guns, his shoulders slumping. “Danny?”

Danny stepped closer, his glowing cape billowing behind him. “It’s been twenty years.” Jason flinched. “Eight.” His voice cracked. “Only eight here.” Danny’s eyes softened. “It felt like forever.” Jason staggered back, shaking his head. “I’m not—” He gestured at the blood staining his armor. “I’m not who I was. You shouldn’t be here.”

Danny reached out but didn’t touch him, his hands hovering just inches away. “You’re still you, Jason. You’re still my husband.” Jason’s laugh was bitter, almost a sob. “You don’t understand. I’ve killed them. Joker. Riddler. Two-Face. There’s no redemption for me. I’ve left a trail of blood and bodies. I’m not the man you fell in love with. I’m not—”

“Stop,” Danny interrupted, his voice firm. “Stop telling me who you think you are. I know you. I’ve always known you.” Jason clenched his fists. “Would you still love me if you knew all I’ve done? The things I can’t take back? The lives I’ve destroyed?” Danny took a step forward, his expression raw with emotion. “Yes. I would. I do.” Jason’s knees buckled, and he sank to the ground, his hands covering his face. “I’ve tried to fight it, Danny. I’ve tried to be better, but the rage... it doesn’t stop. It’s like drowning, and every time I surface, there’s more blood.”

Danny knelt in front of him, his hand finally resting on Jason’s shoulder. “I know,” he said softly. “I’ve felt it too—the weight of things you can’t undo. But you’re not alone anymore. I’ve been waiting for you, Jason. Waiting for you to come back to me.” Jason’s breath hitched, and he looked up, his blue eyes rimmed with tears. “How can you still love me after everything? I’m not... I’m not the man you knew.”

Danny smiled, his own eyes glistening. “You’re still the man I fell in love with. You’re still the man who carved our initials into a tree in the Infinite Realms. The man who made me laugh, who promised me forever. And I meant it when I said forever, Jason. No matter where or when or what you’ve done, I’ll love you. Always.”

Jason let out a shuddering breath, and for the first time in years, the weight on his chest lightened. He leaned into Danny’s touch, the Pit Rage ebbing as warmth spread through him. Danny cupped his face, their foreheads touching. “You don’t have to carry this alone anymore. Let me help you. Let me love you.” Jason closed his eyes, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t deserve you.” Danny’s laugh was soft and full of love. “That’s for me to decide. And I’ve decided—over and over again—that I’ll always choose you.”

Jason’s arms wrapped around Danny, holding him tightly as if afraid he might disappear. But Danny held him just as firmly, grounding him, anchoring him. The green glow of the Infinite Realms pulsed around them, a quiet promise of redemption, of love that could weather even the darkest storms.

---

Danny didn’t leave Jason’s side that night, nor would he ever again. Together, they began the long, painful process of healing. The road ahead wasn’t easy, but they faced it together, their love, a beacon in the darkness.

The heroes would just have to get used to the unearthly presence of the Ghost King in their plane of existence. And no matter how much time passed, Danny knew one thing would never change: he would fall in love with Jason Todd, over and over again, for eternity.

#dpxdc #dc x dp #danny fenton #danny phantom #ghost king danny #jason todd #red hood #danny fenton x jason todd #epic the musical reference #Epic has a grip on my brain #The Whole “I love you despite the Blood Shed” Trope #fanfic snippet #constructive critism welcome

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nekropsii · 2 days ago

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Nekro, I'm very glad to have your blog exist. You are a shining beacon of hope. I need your input on somebody's opinion, somebody's very bad no good opinion. Somebody told me that Cronus and Mituna was just "blackrom flirting", which is supposedly "no different than normal trolls playfighting". They also told me that Cronus is a GENUINE HERO because of Dualscar! I need your input on this. I want you to tell me everything wrong with this. You don't have to, but I just love seeing you analyze stuff and this particular person's statements made me genuinely angry

Hey, thanks! That means a lot, really! <3

This one's easy. I fear I have to put this under the cut, however, due to... Cronus... Cronusing.

Content Warning: Detailed Discussions and Depictions of Abuse and Sexual Assault. Cronus is there.

Absolutely zero indication is given that it is BlackRom Flirting, or even "Flirting" at all. Just because someone is interacting with someone sexually does not mean it is flirting, or even that they're attracted to them. In this case, it is at the barest minimum Sexual Harassment, but if we are being completely honest about the events that are happening on screen, this is Sexual Assault.

Cronus is not attracted to Mituna. This is not BlackRom. This is just abject hatred from someone who is deeply entitled and wishes to control the bodies of his peers, but especially the bodies of those he deems most vulnerable. Some people counter that idea with the fact that he is literally Sexually Assaulting him here, but that requires a major misunderstanding of why people commit Sexual Assault. It is not about Love, or Lust. Oftentimes, rapists are not attracted to their victims at all. Sexual Violence is an act of Violence, not an act of Attraction. Sexual Abuse is, like all other modes of Abuse, about Control, not about Love. Abusers isolate you from your loved ones and limit your access to your money/car/phone to increase their control over you and your ability to flee or get help. They demean you, lovebomb you, and gaslight you to control your sense of self worth and your sanity. They beat you to control your behavior. They sexually assault you to control your entire sense of bodily autonomy. This is how you get Heterosexual Men sexually assaulting other Men or Boys, or Heterosexual Women sexually assaulting other Women or Girls. It is not about attraction, it is about control, and it is about violence. If I may be candid - I've been assaulted more times than I can count in my life. I can safely say that almost every single person who laid their hands on me in that way was in no way attracted to me, they just thought I was an easy target, and wanted to control me because I was an "Other" at the nigh bottom of the social hierarchy. Violence and Control. Not Attraction. Not Love. Not Lust. Pure Violence.

It does not take much thought to realize that Cronus is completely and utterly disgusted by Mituna and everything he represents - it's just that Mituna is also an extremely vulnerable person with extensive issues with communicating due to his speech impediments and his TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury), and a storied history of not being believed by his peers. He is, in essence, a Perfect Victim.

You do not need to look further for proof on Cronus literally just hating and being disgusted by Mituna than his comment about how he wishes he could kill him for being disabled, and the only reason he didn't was because it would have negative social consequences. Killing Mituna would make him lose control over his own social life. So he doesn't, and he resents Beforus for not being the right kind of Eugenicist to enable that murder. I don't think I need to tell you that this would be a Hate Crime.

I also do not think I need to state that Mituna is not attracted to Cronus, considering the first set of screenshots show nothing but a visceral rejection of all advancements being made towards him. Over and over again, he reiterates his lack of consent, and Cronus just keeps on touching him while constantly Verbally Abusing him for being disabled. At most, one could say Mituna experiences an odd kind of "Fawn Response" to his abuse, possibly hoping that playing the role of a friend will make things not as bad, when really all it does is just open up more opportunities for abuse.

I think it's noteworthy that Mituna has a few speech impediments that effect most of his speech, except for key phrases that he says a lot, and/or is making active effort to say clearly. The implication behind how clearly Mituna is speaking while constantly repeating his lack of consent is positively dismal, especially in conjunction with the fact that Cronus is doing this outside, in a public area, seemingly implying that this is so routine that he isn't even being careful about it anymore... But what's even more depressing is that this clarity continues into Mituna's near constant apologies - many of which are prompted by Cronus, as a reflexive response to abuse.

Also, there's my favorite piece of evidence that this is abuse... The fact that Cronus calls it that, point blank. He just admits to it.

He calls his own actions abuse. Yes, it's sandwiched in... Hmm. Manipulating Meenah to get her off of his case for being abusive towards Mituna by redirecting the guilt onto her for actions that she didn't even do herself...

... But that was still a tacit admission of guilt, was it not? He calls his actions abuse.

Everyone go home. Discourse over. He admits to it. We can all throw bricks at anyone denying it now.

Also, Dualscar was not a hero, and neither is Cronus. Dualscar? Hero? Fucking Dualscar? Orphaner Dualscar was a slave owner who was having a real good time in a BlackRom with a straight up rapist, only to die because he literally couldn't tell a good joke to save his life when he went to tell on her.

The closest Cronus gets to "heroism" is the fact that a prophecy was told to him once, which he assumed to be about him, and then got really upset when it was not about him. It was literally just a Harry Potter joke, though, and also - again - did not happen.

He isn't a hero, he doesn't fill the archetype of a hero, nothing. He's also just pathetic, and now he's the one who's the sexual abuser, rather than Aranea taking that role herself.

Everyone go home. Get outta here. Shoo. SHOO!!!!

Discourse Over!!!!!! I've solved all of it. Thank you for reading.

#homestuck #homestuck analysis #alpha trolls #homestuck ancestors #cronus ampora #mituna captor #aranea serket #meenah peixes #orphaner dualscar #marquise spinneret mindfang #cw abuse #cw assault #cronus.pdf #mituna.pdf #nekro.pdf #nekro.sms

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prettygoododds · 3 days ago

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Thank you so much @rimeswithpurple @emeryhall @roomwithanopenfire @monbons @nausikaaa @artsyunderstudy and @martsonmars for the tags! You can definitely tell everyone is done digging themselves out of the holidays and countdown. I'm loving all the content I'm seeing.

I've particularly liked seeing some people's fandom's resolutions. It made me think of my own.

I spent a lot of last year trying to find a good balance between the things I'm obligated to do and the things I want to do. By the time the COC hit, I was in the mindset that the things I needed to do were too much and I had to skip COC this year. This made me incredibly angry and resentful. I hated that the thing I wanted to do was the thing I gave up. So, with spite fueling me forward, I did the COC and I'm so glad I did. But that did make me reflect on how I proceed.

I'm not going to overthink things. I'm going to do the things that make me happy. And what makes me happy is this fandom, the supportive people in it and writing. I need to lean on other folks for the things that are obligations. I don't have to do all the things, but I should at least do the things that bring me joy.

That being said, who wants to see a little of that joy?

Picket Fence blurb:

This happens again and again. An almost blowie in his kitchen, a hot and heavy grind on his sofa that came to an abrupt halt when his aunt stopped by, and one unfortunate tumble in his garden that ended with both of us thorny and grumpy. And look, I’m all for edging, but not like this. Not spread out over days and days and with no actual end in sight. I’m ready to explode. Literally.

A non-Carry On blurb (A Power Unbound Jack/Alan) :

“Apologies my lord,” Alan says back, breathing heavily into neck. “I wasn’t expecting you.” “Am I to understand you are always entertaining handsome men at your desk then?” “There was a handsome man at my desk?” Alan says cheekily. “I only saw you, my lord. Who could see anyone else once you’re in the room.” “You do not have to placate me,” Jack growls, frustrated by his own insecurities. “I know a younger, better man when I see one.” “You’ll have to point them out to me next time,” Alan says, catching Jack’s chin in his fingers and forcing him to look him in the eyes. “For I saw no one who could hold a candle to my stubborn aristocrat.” Jack has to close his eyes and absorb that last sentence.

I have something else that I'll be posting soon, but I don't want to spoil it so just know you'll see something soon-ish.

I've also got to start work shopping something for the COBB. If anyone has an idea I would not be opposed to a little jump start because I am stuck.

Ok, well, I feel this got wordy. Thanks if you stayed to the end. Here's some very non-pressure tags:

@ic3-que3n @dohrnaira @thewholelemon @facewithoutheart @imagineacoolusername

@shemakesmeforget @ivelovedhimthroughworse @wellbelesbian @aristocratic-otter @cutestkilla

@blackberrysummerblog @supercutedinosaurs @nightimedreamersworld @valeffelees @iamamythologicalcreature

@shrekgogurt @ileadacharmedlife @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @hushed-chorus @youarenevertooold

@noblecorgi @talentpiper11 @bookish-bogwitch

#simon snow #baz pitch #carry on fandom #simon snow series #snobaz #snowbaz #carry on series #simon and baz #simon baz #a power unbound #the last binding #alan ross #jack alston

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wayfinders-coven · 3 days ago

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Hi there. First off, I’m sorry my DNI was not posted on this blog but outside of this discussion, do not interact with me. Feel free to respond though. Other endos, go away.

I am having this discussion in good faith, but I have a poor opinion of the endogenic community and I am not trying to be polite about it. The way i say things might sting some, but I have too much to say to take the direct autism out of my tone. I apologize in advance and thank you for your understanding.

Also, i will be putting “non-disordered plurality” in quotes because… i still don’t believe in it, but there’s an explanation for everything and I’m not trying to deny the experience you do have, but I would like to highlight that it may not be what you think it is.

First: you can say all you want that all of the above is true, and honestly I do not really care because endos do not keep me up at night. But even through your entire rebuttal you call endogenics with disabled terms, all while claiming that you’re different things.

System is a disabled term, for disabled people, not for “endogenic plurals” or anyone non-disordered.

Using it as a “non-disordered plural” is ableism. You are taking words away from people with real and serious disorders when you use them to spread information about “non-disordered plurality”. Those words are not for you. Please respect that. Use your own words.

On a similar line, endos also use tags containing “system”, “alter”, “split”, etc. Anecdotally, you haven’t seen it, because maybe you stay out of our way, but others don’t.

[Edit: Checked your profile: you *personally* use system! Please stop doing that. And please don’t say you don’t, it is all over your profile!]

Also, A LOT of you guys love to use “traumascum” when (disordered) systems don’t want to interact with you! That is top tier ableism, bordering on entire slur usage at this rate. You guys as a community *invented a slur* to be ableist to systems. Just be aware of that.

To sum up this section: Endos are generally an ableist group, either stealing our words or using a slur they made for us. They should not be doing that regardless of the truth of “non-disordered plurality”.

Next: The ICD recognizes spiritual practices an example of multiple *personality states*. It does not recognize the “plurality” most endos claim to have, which are either real symptoms of a CDD, or mimicking a CDD.

Also, I hate to be this guy, but when something is normal for someone, it can’t always initially be reported as “distressing”; It doesn’t become distressing until you realize what happened to you, and sometimes it becomes undistressing after you accept it. I know clinicians wont diagnose unless you show distress, but I firmly still believe that if you have all the symptoms of a CDD and yet don’t feel distressed, you’re still disordered. CDDs are traumagenic neurodevelopmental disorders, that doesn’t go away because you become okay with it.

Another thing about this: The cut off date is a theory, and only works for otherwise-NT kids. If you have a neurodevelopmental disorder (like autism for example), your “cut off” date is a lot later. Also, your small-T traumas count too; You don’t have to have been seriously abused or anything to need to cope with life by developing a CDD. Kids brains are the ones in charge; ‘serious trauma’ is whatever your kid-brain fet it was. Just think about that.

(The “im trauma-endo because my trauma happened when i was 10” crowd are the ones i worry about the most, because you aren’t endo just because the trauma happened ‘late’, I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.)

Sidebar, i do not have time to vet all those doc sources you sent me in addition to all this, but i will eventually rb with my findings. Thanks for understanding. I will concede that part to you as you did present something, and I can’t debunk you right now in good faith.

You said something interesting here:

You cannot be ableist about something that *you claim* is not a disorder. Ableism is discrimination or prejudice based on disability status. This is the point we keep having to hammer home for you.

And I’m sorry that it hurts your feelings when people point it out, but it’s necessary: If you’re talking about the pointing out of delusions, I have delusional episodes and I can personally assure you, I say it with concern for some of you. I genuinely think a good amount of you are covering up whatever trauma you endured, or are possibly suffering from a delusional disorder. It is not ableist to say so.

[Edit 2: If your claim is true (your heart symptoms get worse and you experience physical pain when told these things), that is **POTENTIALLY** indicative of a larger issue! If available, please see a doctor, and if not, watch your health and stay out of syscourse.]

We ((disordered) systems) get to decide what “real systems” are because, and say it with me: SYSTEM IS A DISABILITY TERM. We get to decide how it’s used, just like nonverbal autistics get to tell selective-mute autistics to get *their* own words. Words mean things. Get your own.

Bottom line, be “plural” all you want, but I’m sorry to tell you that what 99% “endogenics” claim is non-disordered plurality, just isn’t, and it’s dangerous to spread the misinformation I just had to debunk in this post.

For all these reasons, i firmly believe that Endos and their community full of what OP described, and predatory people who want to keep it that way.

I don’t usually interact with people who claim to be endo, because I feel this way, but I know y’all have a right to your beliefs. You need to think about them though. And you need to not steal words from the disabled to express them. Thanks.

I hope you understand and take the time to read the whole post.

-Juniper

what actually are endogenic systems?

• Endogenic is an umbrella term that refers to all systems that are not completely traumagenic in origin.

Why are some people claiming to be endo?

• people claiming to be endogenic systems may:

• be misdiagnosed, they may not have DID/OSDD and may have a different disorder.

• may not have researched. Which is not a excuse. You cannot claim to have any disorder without any level of research.

• they may be a traumatic system in denial of there trauma.

• singlets with fractitious disorders [Factitious disorders are conditions in which a person deliberately and consciously acts as if they have a physical or mental illness when they are not really sick.]

•singlets misidentifying normal experiences

• singlets who enjoy "being a system" finding it fun etc

Why can't endos exist?

• as previously stated. DID/OSDD is a TRAUMA RESPONSE DISORDER. you cannot have it without trauma literally.

• OSDD/DID occurs because of childhood trauma between the ages 4-9 (commonly). Because extreme trauma happens when the majority of your "personality" is formed by then. the trauma interferes with your personality development, causing the formation of other alters to help cope with that trauma / deal with the brunt of the trauma and survive day to day life.

• OCDD/DIDs can only be formed through trauma.

Why are endos so harmful?

• they spread very harmful misinformation. (Even the idea of being endogenic, forming without trauma)

they spread dangerous misinformation and stigma (demonising roles (persecutors for example)) impossible beliefs (alter death, sys hopping etc)There growing presence in general on many platforms

• endos trying to say that they have any experience to anything close to the serious trauma that causes DID/ OSDD is so so harmful to actual DID/ OSDD have had to live through and survive.

• WE ARE ALREADY STIGMATISED AND DEMONSIED IN ALL SORTS OF MEDIA AS IS.

• IT IS SO HARMFUL AND HURTFUL TO SYSTEMS WHO HAVE ACTUALLY SURVIVED AND BEEN THROUGH THE HORRORS AND TRAUMA THAT CAUSES DID/OSDD - OUR TRAUMAS ARE NOT BADGES FOR YOU TO WEAR.

- blurred asf

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