#might post about that later but idk if anyone’s interested

[schrodingers-hoarding-problem]

i truly believe one of the best comedy moments in film history was frankie saying “It’s not like Boo York is going anywhere” and instantly cutting to ghoulia desperately trying to stop a meteor from destroying earth (& Boo York) within the next 24 hours

[marivanilla05]

Animation attempt

[seaside-hysteria]

Hot take but Teen Titans vol 3 era Cassie wasn’t that bad. Her designs were kinda terrible yes, BUT. It did have some interesting characterization and I feel like people wanna ignore that completely because they gave her lipstick?? Like how can you ignore her arc around the grief of losing her basically sister just cuz she kissed some boys or whatever. Ttvol3 Cassie definitely could’ve been better, like, leagues better, but still. It’s important to her story and it’s weird when people try to ignore it entirely

ALSO without ttvol3 we wouldn’t have had the mess that is Rose and Cassie. This is the price we have to pay for toxic yuri

[aaron-is-comatose]

okay sleep token oc lore moment

this is loosely based off of the actual sleep token lore, i had this idea starting from last night jkfdsjkdf

also, i know sleep canonically goes by he / him prns, my version goes by they / them mainly because it makes more sense for my lore. also nonbinary god :3

all i have currently is how sleep can take advantage of someone, how sleep lures people into a dreamworld (sort of), and what happens when someone is fully within sleep's grasp. anyway, all my current lore is under the cut

sleep can take advantage of weakness. a weakness can be feelings of insecurity, a bad situation that may be happening, a bad mental / emotional state, etc.

the way sleep can take advantage of this is by giving you things you want in your dreams, how that happens im not too sure of yet, i have an idea of sleep transporting you into a dream world where you get to experience things being right, or whatever you may want. I do know that sleep likes to tease people by only giving those dreams Sometimes in the beginning. partly as a way to also test people, to see if they are most likely to fall for sleep. once that's been established, people can get access to the dream world much more often, and may even get to experience it nightly.

sleep may also get to appear in dreams but it might be in different forms, whichever works best on who's dreaming.

as for costumes, i kinda feel like this is such an obvious idea now as a whole, but i love the idea of the masks and costumes being a way for sleep to take away your identity. the more time you spend in sleep's dreamworld, the less you remember about yourself, and the more you become a vessel for sleep.

and the consequence of losing yourself to the dreamworld is by flat out not existing in the real world anymore. i don't know if anyone has heard stories of people just randomly disappearing, not for foul play, but it would be something like that !! i just find that concept so interesting :p

I also really like sleep as an example of a bad coping mechanism !! here's some messages I sent my partner explaining the idea (also included is an idea for what missing victims of sleep would look like in the real world).

anyway, i think that's all the oc lore i have so far !! i might edit this if or when i come up with more things :p hopefully this all makes sense

[pekoeboo]

feeling Emotional tonight and i ended up crying ugly tears thinking about Khalan again. it's always the songs from my character playlist that get me good, man 😭

[thorntopieces]

bit funny when ppl don't read your intro post before interacting with you like

are you certain you want to

[hailsatanacab]

Ao3

The man’s grin fades as he takes in the scene, slumping out of his triumphant stance with a disgruntled moan. “You’re not the birdie I’m looking for.”

“I’m sorry, Duke, I’m gonna have to call you back. A clown just kicked my door down. For some reason.” Danny says into his phone, before hanging up and dropping it onto the counter next to him, despite Duke’s protests. He’s starting to get the impression that this isn’t the lighthearted joke he thought it was. He turns his attention towards the clown. “And you’re not the pizza delivery boy. Or, at least, I hope you’re not. Won’t be ordering from them again if you are.”

“Oh, a comedian? You best stop it, because that’s my job, and you don’t want to get on my bad side more than you already are.”

“Uh-huh, right. You’re J, then?” Danny holds up the card and gives it a little wave. Birds, Bats, and a guy wearing a really terrible halloween costume. Yeah, he’s starting to put a few things together. 

A spark of anger catches in his belly and he takes a sip of his water to quench it. Best get the full story before he does something he might regret. He’s only just gotten to this city, he really doesn’t want to bring down the ire of its protectors already. Fairly sure he's heard something about "No killing" and "No metas" and "overprotective vigilantes, so don't draw attention to yourself, I mean it, Danny" and shit.

The guy doesn’t answer him, but that’s alright, Danny’s pretty sure this whole box was his doing. He’s never going to let Sam know, but he kinda wishes he’d listened more to her 135 slide PowerPoint presentation—“Staying Safe in Gotham: It’s a Good Job You’re Already Dead, Ya Dingbat”—rather than playing Smash or Pass with Tucker whenever a person came up. Honestly, Danny couldn’t really concentrate on anything after Tucker enthusiastically smashed on Man-Bat. 

Come to think of it, that’s probably why Man-Bat is the only one Danny vividly remembers. Why couldn’t Man-Bat be the one to break into his apartment instead, at least he knows his name! Actually, wait, scratch that—it would be so horrifically awkward if they were to ever meet. Danny’s not one to judge, but there’s no way he’d be able to think about anything else.

“Speaking of being on my bad side,” J mumbles, clearly dismissing him and turning to face the door. He scratches at the back of his head with a crowbar that had been tucked away in his trousers. Gross.

A couple of men burst into the room, both armed with automatic rifles and clad in sinister looking clown-masks. Danny has to assume they’re with J even if they haven’t fully committed to the makeup. 

As soon as they cross the threshold, J swings the crowbar down and knocks the first one on the ground. He writhes, clutching at his head, whimpering as his blood splatters all over Danny’s nice new floor. There goes his security deposit.

“Boss?” The other one asks, not doing the sensible thing and running, which is what Danny would have done. Well, maybe not, Danny's never been particularly sensible.

“I thought you said this is where he lived?”

“He does, boss, I swear it! Duke Marlon Thomas is the name on the lease, it must be him!”

“Really?” J laughs, high and loud and very insane. It sets Danny’s teeth on edge. “Because unless he dresses up as a hate crime every day, this isn’t him!”

Well, sure, Danny’s existence is a crime, but it isn’t a hate crime. He’s back to not being entirely sure what’s happening here, but if he were to guess, this Duke Marlon Thomas is a new bird in the Bat’s vigilante nest and J is here to… Danny turns to take in the bird with the broken wings, hanging limply away from the body, feathers all crushed and bent. Well, J certainly isn’t here to make friends, is he?

“I’m sorry, boss, I—”

“I moved in yesterday, your guys are a little behind with their info. What did you want with Duke? I have his number, I could send him a message to say his mail order clown broke his birthday present. I assume that’s what’s happening here, right?” He shrugs and lifts up his phone, fishing for whatever information he can get. “You do balloon animals?”

“Mail order clown? Balloon animals?”J’s red lips stretch into a macabre grin and Danny is, once again, reminded how much he hates clowns. “Yeah, I’d love to use you as a message. At least someone here knows how to be helpful.”

J punctuates his words with several kicks to the downed man. Danny grimaces at the violence, stomach turning. If this is what the guy does to his lackeys, just what did he have in store for Duke?

“So, what’s your name?" Danny interrupts. "Bobo? Wait, no, it begins with a J… Jingles? That’s more Christmas elf, really. Jolly? Jello, you look like a Jello.”

“Jello?” J stops kicking the poor guy and looks up, confused.

“It’s Jello? Jello the Clown! Good name, really matches your hair. Not gonna lie, hate the aesthetic but kudos to you for sticking to it, I guess.” Danny shrugs again, a congenial smile on his face.

J barks out a laugh, his voice cruel and twisted. “You’re playing a dangerous game, boy, you best remember my name quick.”

“Wait, it’s not Jello?” Danny can’t help but laugh at the affronted look on J’s face. He was right, earlier, Danny really is a comedian. Winding J up is definitely funny. “J… Jester? Jujube? I’m running out of J words. Is it just Jake, is your name Jake? John. Jeffrey! Jeffrey the Clown!”

There’s a brief pause, the only noise J’s panting as he straightens up from beating the poor guy. He slicks his lank, green hair back out of his face and fixes Danny with a grin. Some of his lipstick is smeared over his teeth. Looking at the streaks of blood now decorating his apartment, Danny sure hopes it’s lipstick. Otherwise it’s just nasty. 

“How about this?” J says, all casual and smiles. 

Danny cocks his head to the side and smiles back, humming at him to continue.

J gestures to the goon still standing with his bloody crowbar. Good for him for not running yet, really. That’s professionalism. Idly, Danny wonders just how much money he gets for a gig like this. Whatever the amount, it’s not enough. Gotham really is a different city, huh?

“I’ll have this idiot here tie you up on that chair. I’ll do to you what I was going to do to Gotham’s newest do-gooder, Signal, and when I’m finished…” J wipes the back of his hand across his mouth, smearing sweat and blood across his face. He spits on the floor, keeping eye contact with Danny the whole time. “When I’m finished, I’ll place that little broken bird on your lap and I’ll carve my name into your chest. How about that? Think he’ll get the message then?”

“So what I’m hearing is that it is Jeffrey?” Danny asks, fighting down his own grin.

“Why don’t you just wait and see?”

“Sure! Hey, out of curiosity, what were you planning on doing to Duke?” He keeps his voice light, controlled, but even that is starting to get to the man judging by the flash of anger across his face. Must be used to being feared, he guesses. Sorry, J, but Danny’s seen children scarier than you.

“Show him what it means to join our game, just what exactly he’s getting into. Fight him, beat him, kill him. Take this here crowbar and show his brains to the world.” He taps the crowbar to his chin in mock thought, leaving a thick dab of blood  “Teach him to understand what the Bat’s signal really means, you know?”

“I don’t, sorry.”

“That help always arrives too late. That the good ol’ Bat only ever shows up after I’ve done my business. That you can only count on him to clean up my mess. That I’m going to kill him—you, now, I suppose—and there’s nothing no one can do about it. What do you think, clear enough for our friend Duke now?”

The man laughs again, high and nasally, and Danny turns to put his glass of water on the counter behind him. There’s no amount of water that can quell the raging fire in his belly now. Frost begins to creep around the glass and Jeffrey is really starting to piss him off.

“Do you know how old he is?”

“What does that matter?”

“Humour me. You seem good at that.”

J’s face closes and he leans down to pick up the assault rifle his goon dropped. Poor guy’s not moving, now. He’s just unconscious, Danny can tell, but still. It’s not going to be a pretty recovery.

“Or I could just shoot you now.”

“Or you could just shoot me now.”

J points the gun at the guy on the floor and pulls the trigger.

As the echoes of the shots fade, J cracks into a full-body laugh, clutching onto his stomach and doubling over. 

Danny’s lips curl into a snarl and he has to take a deep breath to calm down. Not yet.

“Children! Teenagers! He thinks he can send kids after me and I won’t fight them? I won’t hurt them? I won’t kill them?”

Danny locks eyes with the other masked goon, trying to motion with them to run away because there’s no way this isn’t going to end in a fight.

"Do you want me to tell you a secret?" His eyes take on a dangerous glint and he waves the gun over to the guy. "It's better when I do.”

But, the guy just stands there, waiting, looking very much like he’s used to his shit. He only moves when his next orders come and the muzzle of the gun knocks against the plastic of the mask. “Tie him up, good and proper.”

Danny doesn’t resist. What’s the point in resisting when he can escape as easily as breathing? Wait, no, as easily as blinking. Sometimes he forgets to breathe.

The man has him sitting in the chair with a rope coiling around his hands when J continues, “I thought I had made my point very clear the first time, and normally, I’m not one to repeat a joke, but I guess he’s too stubborn to learn the lesson. You know what they say: spare the rod, spoil the child. Not that I spared it back then, but still….”

Danny freezes. The goon struggles, straining against the rope to try to bring his hands together again, with no success before Danny remembers that he’s playing compliant right now and lets himself be manhandled again.

“You’ve done this before?”

“You really are new here, aren’t you, kid?”

“You’ve killed one of the vigilantes before?”

J swings the crowbar like a golf club and peers off into the distance as if he’s watching the ball soar through the air, shielding his eyes from an imaginary sun. Then he springs up in mock celebration, fist pumping in the air before bowing at them as if they were giving him a rapturous applause. “Hole! In! One!”

“You killed a child hero.”

“You should have seen his face, calling for his daddy the whole time. It was so sweet,” his voice breaks, he chokes up, and wipes a tear from his eye, “so sad, so emotional. So funny.”

Danny doesn’t say anything.

“Are you going to call for your daddy? I was hoping to make Signal call for his—actually be his namesake and call for big, bad, daddy Bats to come and help him. Really wanted them all to hear it. They couldn’t hear the first one I killed, I think that’s where I went wrong.”

Once the goon is done, he steps back from Danny and moves around the room to stand behind J again. At least he has enough sense to keep himself out of the line of fire. Danny wonders if he’ll run when shit breaks loose. When he breaks loose.

“This was going to really drive it home for all of them, not just the Bats. And then you came in here and ruined it!” J takes the crowbar and pokes at Danny’s chest with it, prodding him hard enough to rock him back on the chair. “So I’m going to ruin you.”

“I mean,” Danny says, pointedly looking at the mess of his front door, “you’re the one that came in here and ruined my perfectly good evening. I was gonna have pizza. Not even gonna get a balloon sword, now.”

Lightning fast, Danny phases through his ropes and snatches at the crowbar when J goes to poke him again. He heaves with just enough strength to knock J off balance while pulling himself to his feet, and dusts off his jeans.

“You’re a meta?” J’s face morphs from surprised to gleeful, another laugh crackling through the air. “Perhaps I was too hasty in—”

“Nope.” Danny rolls his eyes, not seeing the funny side. “Not a meta. I just really hate clowns.”

He pulls on the crowbar again, but J still doesn’t let go, so instead he swings his arm round and forces him on a jaunty little spin if he wants to keep on holding it. They switch places, Danny now near the door and J collapsing into the chair, laughing all the while.

“For the record, I didn’t call for my dad when I died. All I could do was scream.” 

Danny trembles in rage now, holding the crowbar tight against J’s chest, his hand slippery with blood. He doesn’t even think J can hear him, not over the sound of his laughter. 

His death was bad. Painful. Long and unending.

He can’t even imagine what it must have felt like to be lucid enough to call for help.

“You killed a child hero. You came here today to kill a child hero. I can’t let that stand.”

There’s a hitch of a breath behind him, the rattling metal of a gun, and honestly Danny’s a little surprised the guy hasn’t run yet. He turns to face him, keeping the crowbar pressed firmly against J’s chest. He won’t be getting up any time soon.

“Leave. Get out now and you’ll be fine.”

“Yes,” J gasps through his laughter, “get out! He’s mine!”

The man doesn’t need to be told twice. He drops his gun and legs it, so that’s one less thing Danny has to worry about.

Now. What to do with J…

It’s not even a question. He wanted to introduce someone’s brains to the world, didn’t he? Danny kinda doubts he has much of them, but he doesn’t mind obliging. This is one of those favours that he’s happy to help out with.

He takes the crowbar, flips it around in his hand so he’s holding the less bloody side, and starts swinging.

It’s gory. Gruesome. Worst of all, it’s over in a disappointingly short amount of time.

Actually, scratch that, worst of all is that J never stops laughing. It’s weird and more than a little unnerving.

When Danny’s finished, the crowbar clatters to the floor and Danny lets out a long, slow breath. It’s not an elegant solution, not really. Not even fun and from the looks of it, it’s not even going to be a deterrent.

Danny crouches down in front of him, watching as he blows bloody bubbles on the floor with his sputtering breath, giggling as they pop and shower him with spittle. This won’t keep him down for long, of that Danny’s certain.

“You know,” Danny muses, “I don’t agree with child heroes.”

With a snort, he stands, prodding J in the shoulder enough so that he flips over onto his back. “Bit hypocritical of me, right? I mean, I get it. Sometimes you just don’t have a choice. Sometimes you’re the only one that can do something, as fucked as that is.”

The only response he gets is a weak, nasally chuckle. Danny should break his nose, he’s really starting to hate that sound.

Instead, he turns and makes his way over to the box and looks at the bird inside. Danny can’t even imagine what Duke must have been feeling when he put it together. The panic in his voice… 

No matter how much of a beating he’s just given him, J still knows Duke’s name. Knows his family, his friends, his whole life. Sure, Danny was here to spoil his plan this time, but that was pure luck. He won’t be around for the next.

So he’s not really sure what to do now. What’s the protocol for something like this? What’s he meant to do? You can’t put someone like this in a normal jail—even if he managed to stay put, Danny’s sure this won’t be a secret he’ll keep—soon enough, it’ll be open season on Duke Marlon Thomas.

“But it only takes one person, one messed-up, maniacal fruit loop, for it all to come crumbling down. Adults can understand that, they can prepare for that. They know the weight of their actions, they can fully comprehend what they’re getting into. Children…”

Gently, he picks up the bird. The odd angles of the broken wings make the feathers crunch under his fingers and Danny smooths them out as best he can. It fits neatly into his hand, the yellow underbelly still soft and downy. Honestly, Danny’s kind of surprised that there’s not a bomb in it or something equally ridiculous.

“Children shouldn’t need to.”

“You were…” J wheezes from behind him and he can hear the blood catch in his throat. “A child hero?”

“All grown up now.”

J laughs, a wet, bubbling, heaving sound. “Batty doesn’t like to share.”

“Oh, don’t worry about me. With this welcome,” Danny snorts, “Gotham already feels like home. I won’t be giving it up. Besides, I’m retired! He’s got nothing to worry about.”

“Retired?”

“I’m not a hero. I was just someone that didn’t have a choice.” He snaps the beak off the bird with a grimace. “Then my own maniacal fruit loop came in and ruined it.”

That sends J into another fit of laughter, the sound so shrill it sets Danny’s teeth on edge. Clowns. Fucking clowns.

Setting the bird down back in the box, he makes his way back over to J and hooks his foot under his shoulder with enough strength to flip him over. Somehow, his laughter is louder like this. What a dick.

“So I ruined him.”

“You… you think you can ru-ruin me?”

“I know I can ruin you. But…” Danny sighs, crouching down beside him again. “It’s probably a bad idea. As you said, the Bat doesn’t like to share and seeing as he’ll probably be here soon, I’d like to make as much of a good first impression as I can.”

The anger is still raging in his gut, the icy tendrils coiling around his core as he looks down at J. The fear in Duke’s voice rings in his ears. How young he sounded.

“No, I won’t ruin you. But I’m going to make sure you can’t ruin Duke.”

“You can try, you—” he cuts himself off with a crazed laugh.

“You know, I failed English in high school pretty hard. My teacher said I wouldn’t know poetry even if Edgar Allan Poe came back to life and smacked me in the face. I said he already did, but he didn’t get the joke and I got detention for talking back. Still… I’d like to think this is going to be poetic. You see this?” He holds up the beak to him. It starts to glow as he imbues it with a little of his ectoplasm and then encases it in a thin layer of ice for good measure. “This is going to stop you singing like a canary. You won’t be the little bird telling anyone any secrets, because this little bird is going to stop you. That’s poetry, right?”

It’s almost comical, really, watching J trying to push himself away from the beak as Danny brings it closer to him. Danny allows himself a little chuckle, but it’s drowned out by J’s barking laugh, short and sharp, as his fingers slip on the blood and he lands flat on his back. Whatever. Danny grabs at his leg and jerks him back before kneeling on his chest—probably a little harder than he needs to, but that’s okay, he can live with that.

Once J is secure—despite his weak scrabbling against Danny’s knee—Danny leans forward and, thumb resting just under his chin, pushes his head up to bare his throat. J keeps trying to gnash his teeth, bite him, wriggle free, but Danny holds him steady. It’s not like he can go intangible or anything. Really, fighting humans is so boring.

Carefully, gently, Danny brings the beak closer to his throat even as J bucks wildly in response.  His wheezing laughter vibrates against Danny’s hand, spittle flying everywhere. Gross.

It takes a precise hand to phase the beak into J’s voicebox, but Danny’s good at stuff like this. It’s just like working on one of his fiddly inventions, really.

As soon as he lets go of the beak, releasing its intangibility, the cold from his ice bleeds into J’s tissue and he stills. The hands that were beating against Danny’s leg go up to his throat.

“Wh—” he starts, but stops immediately, his Adam’s apple quivering as he wordlessly mouths his question. At least he’s not laughing. 

It takes him a minute of working his throat before he can whisper, hoarse and stuttering, “What did you do?”

Danny’s grin is wolfish, stretching far too wide and showing too many teeth, as he sits back on his heels and admires his handiwork.

“Now, listen up, Jeffrey, you’re going to want to know this. Here’s how it works: that beak will be with you for the rest of your soul’s existence. Believe me when I tell you that there’s no one strong enough that can remove it, in magic or might. So you best watch what you say from now on, because if you don’t…”

He conjures up a splinter of ice between his thumb and pointer finger, and turns it around to catch the light, rainbow fractals bouncing off J on the floor. It would make for a pretty picture, without the clown.

When he’s sure J is watching, he carries on, “If you say anything with the intention to compromise or fatally wound a bat or bird—any vigilante, not just Signal—then that little beak inside your throat will grow.”

The ice shivers longer in his pinched grip as demonstration.

“Now, because I’m a nice person, I’ll give you three chances. Within reason, of course, you can’t just order their deaths and only suffer for it once, I’m not stupid. Don’t bother trying to speak around it, either, it’ll sense your intentions and once your three chances are up…”

It explodes in his hands, growing from the size of a needle to the size of a pickaxe, and falling to the floor with a hefty thunk. J watches it all with wide eyes, a whimpering giggle lodged in the back of his throat.

“You’ll end up like the Titanic. Bye, bye, Bobo.” Danny laughs, standing up. “You know, my mom always said if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. Words to live by now, I guess.”

There, that’s a pretty good job, right? That should keep him from spreading Duke’s identity around, shouldn’t it? Like, yeah, sure, Danny’s shaking up the Bat’s turf in a big way by interfering, but surely he can’t be mad at him now, right? He’s fixed the situation! 

“So, Jeffrey, what do you think? Still planning on leaving messages for the birds and the bats?”

“J-Joker…” he gasps, the word sticking in his throat. Heaving in a wet, ragged breath, he tries again, “My name… is Joker.”

“I don’t care.”

Return to sender (dc x dp)

There was a box set right in front of his door. That was already pretty unusual, since Danny had just moved in, and and gotten done with boxes and he knew he hadn't had anything delivered here.

"Let's get you inside," Danny muttered as he got his key out of his pocket.

Unlocking the door, he picked it up and made his way in. He set the box down on the small kitchen table before grabbing a knife from the cabinet. He sat down and set to cutting the tape along the opening.

Peeling back the flaps, he took a peak at the contents only to be faced with a mound of yellow and black sparkly tissue paper, with a letter on top.

"What do we have here?" he muttered to himself, as he took the envelope out of the box.

Ripping it open, he got a small greeting card out. It had a yellow smiley face on it with the word "Smile!" printed above it. He flipped it open, and his eyes fixed on the printed text that said "Because today is your day!" Underneath it, written in chicken-scratch was written the following: "Looks like the bat has a new signal. At least mommy and daddy won't know how fast you replaced them!" it was signed with a simple J and yet another smiley face.

Danny frowned. "Weird."

Then, he peeled back the paper to find a taxidermied yellow-and-black bird Danny couldn't recognize, with its wings broken.

"This is definitely not mine," Danny said as he looked at the bird. Hopefully the real owner of this wasn't going to be too disappointed it had been this damaged in transit.

Danny took up the box to look at the delivery address, only to find that while this was for his apartment, the name of the receiver was marked as "Duke Marlon Thomas". It took one quick google search to find a phone number. Danny thanked whoever the sender was for including a middle name as it narrowed the search greatly. Dialling the number, Danny got up to get himself a glass of water. As he got the glass out, the line connected.

"Hello?" he heard a surprisingly young voice say. Well, assuming apparently made an ass of Danny. Maybe taxidermy really did appeal to all ages.

"Hi, my name's Danny. I think I got your package by accident."

"My package?" The guy on the other side asked, perplexdely.

"Yeah, a big box with a bird in it?" Danny answered. "Listen, man I'm sorry, I think the wings broke during transit, I swear it was already like that when I opened it-"

"What bird?" Now the guy sounded even more confused.

Well now, Danny was starting to get confused. "A taxidermied black-and-yellow bird?" Danny sounded out, then he grabbed the note and let his eyes go over it again. "There was a note too, I opened it, sorry about that." Danny winced, before trying for a joke to hopefully get the guy to soften up on him. "Whoever that J- friend is, he's got a weird sense of humour."

"J- friend?" the voice on the other side of the phone said. Guess, the joke hadn't gone over well, because his voice had gone tense.

"Yeah," Danny answered withholding a sigh, damn his curiosity. Opening other people' letters was not only a gross invasion of privacy but also a federal crime. Hopefully the guy wouldn't stay mad too long. "It was signed with the letter J and a smiley face."

"Whoever you are," said the guy, and the urgency in his voice had Danny straightening up. "You need to get out of here right now."

"What-?"

Just then, the door to Danny's apartment was blown open.

"I hope you're ready, birdie," a voice outside sounded, before a spindly man in a purple suit, green hair and sickly-looking skin walked in.

"Because you and me are going to have so much fun."

[starbuckaroo]

it’s rly funny to me that the bt ppl on my dash are like ‘wow the deleted henren scene proves Tommy is a gr8 dude and bt are so good for each other’ and the antis are like that but uno reverse and like

if that doesn’t just prove that maybe we don’t have enough screentime actually talking about the dude yet to say definitively then idk what will 😂 like…yall we are all just seeing what we want to see and then yelling in our echo chambers. maybe it doesn’t have to be so dire?

[0zeeraa0bloodmoon0]

so before i watched nosferatu 2024 i was slightly "spoiled". thats ok. the movie has been put for a few weeks and im not the type of person to whine about spoilers when i didn't make an effort to avoid them. not to mention its a remake of a really old movie.

basically what i heard was that nosferatu is a story about childhood sexual trauma. i was like "ok. a bit of a cliche and over used theme. like 80% of non slasher horror films are about childhood trauma. but this is based on a really old film so ill give it a pass."

what i got from those spoilers is that the point of the story is that Ellen was sexually abused as a child. i also heard some people mention her father so i assumed it was by him.

then i watched the movie i got to the scene where she talks about her childhood and her father to Thomas and it made me think "this is it. this is the scene where she tells him about being sexually abused by her father".

she talked about him neglecting her and her feeling lonely which made me think that she might confess to being the one who initiated the sexual acts. this actually got my hopes up because that would have been much more interesting than her being a passive victim. and if Orlok was a metaphor/symbol of her trauma as i have come to expect and believe frim the "spoilers", than this would explain her love hate fear shame relationship with him. if shes the one who initiated it then that would make sense right?

but then however, the scene passed, and there was no mention of trauma beyond her mother's death and her father's neglect. i was like "ok. in a later scene then. for sure." but the movie ended, and i was left confused...

it made me wonder "who the hell were those people talking about?? who abused ellen as a child??" but then it hit me....

THEY WERE TALKING ABOUT FUCKING ORLOK

i could barely hold back a groan when i realized because seriously??? come on!

idk about you guys but i never really thought about Orlok as a person, with morality. to me he was always a symbol, a metaphor for something greater. not just some "creepy old guy who grooms Ellen and is a metaphor for other creepy old guys who groom people i guess?" the way so many people claim him to be. Orlok isn't just some dude who can groom people. hes an idea.

i hate this interpretation of the movie so much. because not only is it over done. not only is it overly simplistic. not only is it an insult to my and other people who think more deeply about this movie's intelligence.

but its also THE. MOST BORING. INTERPRETATION. that you could possibly come up with for this movie.

like its one thing that these people love feeling morally superior when they go on their little keyboard-warrior rants about how anyone who disagrees with this movie being about childhood trauma and god forbid they dare call it a romance are all disgusting, evil and sould be locked up and share a psychological profile with ted bundy (?????)

but they do all this, for an interpretation so painfully boring

just go watch a mervel movie or something jesus

(this post was made in a rush so its not the most eloquent expression of my thoughts, that would take hours to write, but i hope i got the point across anyway)

[pasteldreams]

idk how many ppl this will reach but after finding out about other people’s experiences with @/sturniololuv08 (backup acc: @/letstrip1975 ) i’ve decided maybe it’s time to post my own. (i might delete later who knows…)

also i want to give @endereies a shoutout for being brave enough to post this piece about the same person 🤍

following post has mentions of mental illness (ptsd, schizophrenia, DID), self harm (explicit!), eating disorders, and addiction — read at ur own risk and pls be kind

so my contact with them started when they posted in a discord chat soon after i joined saying that they were going to start writing a fic where nick has dissociative identity disorder. i told them i knew a lot about DID and they asked for my help, i msged them privately abt it later on.

i initially kept quiet about this whole situation because one of the reasons im so knowledgeable about DID is because i was professionally diagnosed with it around 3 years ago. i told them this. i dont tell many people, but i have a fear that if i dont admit it outright now they might use it against me after this post goes up. so how u feel abt me after this is up to u but i need to tell my story how it is

as we talked more and i gave them more info about the disorder (from academic knowledge and personal experiences), i quickly realized that they were only interested in using the disorder as a tool to portray more of the dark characters and relationships they ‘specialize’ in

unfortunately at this point after i had already tried to back out, i started worrying that they could now use the information they had about me and my mental illness against me, so i agreed to continue helping. fortunately, i stalled enough that i didn’t have to. on top of this, the explicit messages about self harm were sent with no trigger warnings

mainly, i am putting this out there because a lot of their stories and content use the triplets as props to portray horrible representations of toxic relationships and mental illnesses (schizophrenia!chris, sadistic!matt, cannibal!chris, cNC, r*pe, etc.). i cant stand by and ignore it anymore like i have been in the discord chat. as someone with a degree in psychology and currently studying to be a therapist, their msgs and content make my stomach hurt. i feel gross for the interactions ive had with them privately, in the discord chat, and publicly on this account.

thank u to anyone who has read this far <3

feel free to reblog/comment as needed

[magpiepills]

Honor and Obey

Rating: EXPLICIT 18+ MDNI

Pairing: Frankie Morales x Santiago Garcia x Santi’s wife! Reader

Word count: 3.9

Summary:you are Santi’s wife and when Frankie moves in, you have an idea that Santi helps you make a reality.

Warnings: SMUT! Threesome, sort of fucking, oral m and f receiving, m/m dynamics, sort of dom reader, sort of sub Frankie and Santi, Frankie is the Pussy Eating King, big dicks, teasing, flirting, mentions of alcohol, mentions of curls, fuck licking, cum shots, creampies, a little overstimulation, one spank, pwp, just porn. Possibly more, idk.

A word from the author: This is a repost! this has been rotting away in my WIPs for months. I am in a little slump working on Made Me Love You, so I decided to finish this to hopefully get things going again. It’s not my best work, and I may fix it up and post another version some other time. Maybe not. Who knows. Anyway, here it is.

Frankie knew exactly what he was getting into when he came to stay with his best friend and his new wife after his lady finally kicked him out. The lies and the coke and the abandonment for misguided jungle romps were finally too much for her.

When Santi offered the spare bedroom in the house they’d just bought, Frankie gladly accepted. How could he say no to a roof over his head, his best friend down the hall, and you?

It was so innocent at first that he felt like it was his fault. You’d left the door open when you showered. He didn’t mean to see you, naked and wet, patting your hair with a towel when he walked down the hall. He reluctantly looked away.

When the three of you lounged by the pool, he dove into the water when Santi untied your top and reapplied your sunscreen, then left you shiny, slick, and bare under the warm July sun. Frankie didn’t bother pretending not to look. You smiled at him and raised one knee, planting your foot on the lounge chair and letting it drop just enough to give Frankie something to think about later in his room alone, heavy cock in his fist.

Frankie couldn’t deny his attraction to you. Anyone who looked at you would fall for you. You were beautiful in an effortless way, warm and always interested in what others had to say, making everyone feel special and important. Your hair, your face, your body, your voice, Frankie knew exactly what had attracted his lovesick friend to you.

Once he understood what you wanted, he even let himself flirt with you a bit. He winked at you when your eyes met. He went commando under his gray sweatpants, settling them low on his waist, jutting his hips out just so while he stood at the foot of the couch while you read. He let his touch linger on your waist when he scooted between you and the counter in the kitchen, fingertip grazing the soft skin under your shirt, light enough that you might believe it was an accident.

•••••••••••••••••

Weeks went by, glances became stares, and brushes of bare skin became teasing touches. Frankie was in a constant state of sexual frustration. His mouth watered, his cock was half hard, he spilled his seed over his stomach every night as he thought of you. You bent over the couch, you on your knees, you sitting on his face and coming on his tongue. He imagined what you might sound like when you begged him to fuck you harder. It drove him mad.

•••••••••••••••

Your own patience was wearing thin. You weren’t sure how much longer you could restrain yourself, to play innocent, keep your hands to yourself. How many more ways could you temp him? You’d done your best to goad him into coming on to you, but he had never crossed the line from longful looks and lingering touches. Every day you wanted to push Frankie against a wall and drop to your knees taking his cock as far down your throat as you could. He just didn’t seem to be getting the message. Santi laughed at your failed seduction, he had tried to help, but couldn’t be mad at the restraint Frankie had shown with another man’s wife.

When you couldn’t wait any longer, Santiago had taken Frankie out for a drink and clapped him on the shoulder as he explained that he needed Frankie to stop being so respectful. It took several more drinks before Frankie was convinced it wasn’t a joke or a trick and that you actually wanted to fuck him and that Santi was not just ok with it, that you’d be fucking them both. His head spun, not just from the Stella.

••••••••••

Two nights later, it was time for your date as you’d taken to calling it. You had told Santi exactly what was to happen. “He’s going to be good, isn’t he Santi?” You asked him, nuzzling into his chest while you sat waiting with your husband for his best friend to get out of the shower. Santi never got tired of telling you how much he and his friend were going to enjoy sharing you. He hummed into your hair, thick arms around your waist. You let your mind drift to images of Frankie in the steamy stall, soaping his body, suds rolling down his broad chest to his soft belly. Images of his big hands sliding over his arms and to his cock. You knew it must be something special. You’d seen him in those sweatpants, knees spread wide on the couch. His bulge may as well have had a neon arrow pointing at it.

When Frankie emerged, warm and slightly damp, smelling like citrus and mint, hair damp and curling wildly, you pressed a drink into his hand and guided him to the couch next to Santiago while you took your seat in a chair across from them. Santi raises his own glass in silent, subtle greeting as you spoke, soft and sweet. There was no sense in wasting time.

“Touch him.”

Your command was gentle.

“Touch him?” Frankie asked, eyes wide and voice wavering.

You nod and smile patiently, your eyes never breaking his gaze as you sip from your glass before continuing. “Why don’t you help him out of his shirt?”

Frankie shifted up onto his knees and scooted closer to his friend, he had heard what you said too, and made room for Frankie between his legs. There was no hesitancy about him at all, just a buzz of desire and the smell of sweet cologne.

“Gotta do what she wants, Fish. Happy wife, happy life, right?” Santi’s gaze was steady and sure, leaving no room for second thoughts.

Kneeling between Santiago’s knees on the couch, he reached hesitantly for the hem, tongue slowly licking across his bottom lip as he pulled the t-shirt over his friend's head, making his thick, dark curls bounce.

Frankie tossed the shirt at your feet.

“Now yours. Let him take it off.” Your directions were cool and calm, but heat was building inside you, Santi had delivered on his promise to bring you your third and now it was time to see how he would behave for you.

Frankie kept his eyes on you as Santi leaned forward to drag the shirt up Frankie’s torso, finally revealing his strong, wide shoulders and a soft belly with a trail of dark hair leading down under his jeans.

He was perfect.

“I’d like Santi to kiss you, Frankie. Is that alright?”

Frankie nodded, but didn’t look back at his friend until Santi wrapped his warm hand around the back of his neck. Frankie let his eyes fall, glassy and half lidded, to Santi’s plush lips, then lifted them to meet the other man’s intense gaze. Frankie lifted his own hand and mirrored Santi’s grip on his neck before tilting his head slightly, just enough for Santi to catch his lips in a deep kiss.

Santi, of course, had left this part out. He had explained that his wife wanted to have sex with him, and that she wanted Santi to be there. Frankie assumed that this was some cuck kink they had and he was more than ok with that. It stroked his ego to give a woman what another man couldn’t. The prospect of Santi joining them changed the dynamic a little, but Frankie was game. Santi was handsome and flirtatious, the two men had toed the line of flirtation themselves for years. It shouldn’t have been a surprise.

••••••••••••••••

You looked on, feeling warmer by the minute, a dampness growing between your thighs as you watched two such masculine men, so powerful and strong making out for your enjoyment.

Santi’s hand drifted down Frankie’s back, and his other hand came to cup his cheek posessively. Again, Frankie mirrored his action and cradled Pope’s cheek in his hand, deepening the kiss.

“Take his pants off, Santiago.” You directed from your perch. You wanted to see who got hard first.

Santi broke the kiss, and guided Frankie to stand while he unbuttoned his jeans, drew the zipper downward, and pushed the soft denim off his narrow hips, leaving him in snug gray boxers, ones that you had picked out.

Frankie stepped out of his jeans and looked to you for approval or direction or anything, but it wasn’t necessary. The look on your face urged him on. He looped his index fingers through his friend's belt loops and pulled him closer to strip him of his pants as well, leaving him in a pair of matching underwear, just how you wanted them.

Nearly bare, the energy in the room thrummed. It felt warmer, more humid, felt as if the walls had closed in.

You didn't need to tell them what to do next, the two men, older, graying, battle scarred, no strangers to violence, held each other close and kissed with a passion that you hadn’t expected, Frankie leaned down to close the difference in their height, Santi kept a guiding hand on Frankie’s cheek.

“Alright Santiago, Francisco. I want to see you now. Both of you. All of you. Is he hard, Santi? Why don’t we find out” Santi grinned up at Frankie, and chuckled as he brought his hand to grip at the taller man’s half hard cock before hooking his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and pushing them down to the middle of his thighs.

“Tsk. I think you can do better than that, sweetheart. I need him hard. Help him out. Get on your knees for him.” Frankie’s head snapped to you, his eyes wide, unable to believe this is what you wanted. He only had to look at the way your chest heaved as you watched the men act out your fantasies to know you were serious. Santi, on the other hand, needed no confirmation. You were the boss. He had already dropped to his knees, cock in his hand, ready to show you exactly what you wanted to see.

With you in the chair soaking your panties and directing your own personal porno and Santi on the floor, tugging at his throbbing length, all of Frankie’s inhibitions evaporated. With no hesitation left, he threaded his thick fingers into Santi’s curls and pulled him close until his cheek was against his hip and his lips just inches from his quickly hardening length. “Do as she says, Pope. Suck.”

No sooner than the words left Frankie’s mouth, a shadow seemed to cross his best friend’s face and he huffed through his teeth, greedily taking Frankie’s cock into his mouth. His eyes were dark and dangerous as he stared up, groans rumbling deep in his chest as he worked the length into his throat, all for your pleasure. “That’s it. Take my cock down your throat. Suck it like you mean it.” As Frankie spoke he began to thrust his hips shallowly. He loved the power of having a strong man on his knees. Santi was a year or so younger, shorter but thick with muscle where Frankie was tall and lean. Santi’s beard grew in thicker but grayed sooner, making him look older where Frankie had maintained a bit of boyishness into his forties. Neither had ever wanted for the company of women.

“Don’t let him come.” Your words were sharp and cut through Frankie’s panting and murmuring and the squelching of his cock against the back of Santi’s throat. The men immediately stilled, and Frankie’s cock was left wet with saliva and his hands tight fists at his sides. He squeezed his eyes shut, breathed deeply, and willed himself back from the edge.

“It’s your turn now, Frankie. Help Santiago. Get him close. Frankie’s heart pounded in his chest, suddenly unsure of his own abilities. Frankie knew exactly what to do for women, knew what to do for himself, knew how he liked to be touched, but he wasn’t sure how to touch his best friend to make him feel good and he really wasn’t sure what you wanted to see. He took a deep breath, and decided he would stick with what he knew.

Frankie pushed Santi backwards by his hips, smirking down at him before looking back to you. “He likes taking directions, doesn’t he? He likes being good.” Then turned back to Santi. “You’re going to be good aren’t you?” Not waiting for a response, he shoved him gently onto the couch, anchoring his hips with both hands and kissing down Santi’s woolly jaw, down his neck, across his scarred shoulder, then slowly back to suck dark marks across his throat. He could feel the vibration of the other man’s soft moans, it ignited something familiar in him, a need to take him apart, explore every piece, study and commit it all to memory, tuck it away for reference, become the expert on his needs. Not now, though. Now he just settled between Santi’s knees.

You crossed the room to sit on your knees next to your boyfriend, up close you could see the shine of saliva on his chest, hear his heavy breaths as Frankie took his twitching cock in hand and began to stroke him in long, firm movements. “You’re hard as a fuckin’ rock, Pope. You like this? Like letting your girl watch you suck my cock? Yeah. You like getting on your knees,too. Did good, Pope. Almost had me coming down your throat.” Santi whimpered at Frankie’s words, closing his eyes, furrowing his thick brows.

Licking his lips, Frankie moved slowly, lowering his head, licking a wide, slow stripe up the underside of Santi’s cock, mimicking the way he ate pussy, something he knew he excelled at.

Your eyes met Frankie’s as he continued licking and swirling his tongue over your boyfriend’s shaft. The sight sent a fresh wave of arousal to your already dripping core. You imagined him between your own legs, his expert tongue and wide hands working you to your release.

Santi’s whimpering and squirming brought you back to the moment, reminding you that this was for your pleasure, not theirs. You are in control, and they’ll do what you say. Breathlessly, you command Frankie to stop,and he sits back, panting and needy, but obedient. His hand splayed over your thigh, silently begging for you to give him his next command. You placed your hand over his, admiring the difference in size and texture, his much larger and rougher than your own, callused and rough with thick veins across the back, but his nails were blunt and clean. You squeezed his hand before turning your focus to Santi, who was watching how you looked at his friend. He recognized the lust in your eyes, recognized the same in himself. When he shifted closer to you, you reached for him, pulling him into a kiss.

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know Frankie was watching intently, canting his hips, searching for relief he wasn’t due. You simply held out your hand for him and he rose, planting his knees between yours and Santi’s so that he could straddle your legs at the same time before inviting himself into your kiss, licking at where your lips met, mouthing at you and his former squad mate, noses bumping.

Santi broke the kiss, pulling Frankie by his thick curls into a deep kiss of their own before guiding his face to the apex of your thighs.

“Show me what you can do, Frank. Santi’s been telling me you’ve got quite a reputation. I really want to see for myself what kind of skills you have. See if you really are “the pussy-eating king.”

How devious he looked, lips curling into a smirk at your challenge.

“Alright, cariño. I’ll show you, but don’t be disappointed when nobody ever does it good enough after this.”

He didn’t waste any more time. He pulled you down the couch so you were on the edge of the cushion, and lifted your knees. “Hold her knee, Santi.” The men worked as a team, it should have been no surprise. Santi’s familiar hand held your left knee up and out, giving Frankie unfettered access while he kissed you, licking into your mouth, grunting into you as you lazily stroked your husband’s cock.

Frankie rubbed over the soft skin of your thighs with his warm, rough hands. He squeezed and kneaded and worked his way down to your mound, covering it with one hand and gently sliding the heel of his hand to your clit, circling it, rolling it, making you groan into Santi’s mouth, your hand stilling on his cock.

Frankie’s left hand joined his right at your glistening pussy and he let his fingertips slip over your folds, smearing your slick from where it pooled up over your clit, rubbing with intention there before fluttering over your delicate inner folds. You gasped when he thumbed a wet stripe of your own slick over your pebbled nipple, and whined when Santi was quick to cover it with his mouth, tasting you there, cock twitching with need.

You were wetter than you could ever remember being. Almost embarrassingly so. Your pussy, Frankie’s fingers, down onto the couch you dripped, and when he pushed two thick fingers into you, the wet sounds were obscene. He twisted his wrist, licked and sucked your throbbing clit, groaning and humming against you as he worked you diligently toward your orgasm.

Santi’s eyes were locked to where Frankie devoured you, even as he kissed you and kneaded your tits, pinching and rolling your nipples, helping push you closer to the edge.

“Fuck. Doin so good do us, baby. Look at you. This what you wanted? Want him to make you come?”

You whimpered into Santi’s cheek, nodding, delirious with pleasure so many sensations overwhelmed you. “Close!” You managed finally. Frankie had taken his sweet time about your cunt, applying his tongue, his lips, his fingers with precision, easing you up to the apex of pleasure. With one last focused effort, he tongues your clit while he crooked his fingers against the spot inside you that he knew would finish you off.

You writhed, squeezing his head between your thighs while Santi kissed you messily, letting your climax wash over you until you were dazed and panting, too sensitive to move.

One of them handed you your drink and you sipped it as you came back to yourself, only then seeing the hungry way they looked at you. Santi ran his land through your hair and Frankie kissed your thigh and rubbed your knee.

“Frankie that was amazing. Santi, thank you.” You kissed Santi again, grateful that he was so willing and happy to let another man, his best friend eat you out to the best orgasm you’d ever gotten from oral, and possibly ever. But you knew that wasn’t where this would end. You placed your empty glass on the table and reached for Frankie, kissing him, unsure if that was crossing a boundary, but too deep into this dynamic to care. You pulled him onto the couch, sandwiching yourself between the men. Frankie leaned in to kiss you again, the force pushed you back into Santi’s warm chest and you felt his scratchy chin on your shoulder, voice soft, urging you onto Frankie’s lap.

“Don’t you want to show him how grateful you are? Why don’t you help him now, cariño?”

You turned to kiss Santi, but the moment was interrupted by Frankie’s hand landing a sharp smack on your ass. My turn.

You crawled onto his lap, whining when his cock brushed against your over-sensitive cunt. You settled happily with your arms around his neck, kissing him while he squeezed the plush round of your ass, letting him pull you up to bury his face between your tits, kissing and nipping at your soft skin, breathing deep to smell your sweat and perfume.

“Lift up. Want you to sit on this big cock.” You obeyed, raising enough for him to run the thick head of his cock through your slick folds and tease at your entrance, making you whine until Santi stopped you. “Uh uh. Not like that.” He pulled you to your feet and spun you around. “Like this.” He pushed your hips back and together he and Frankie guided you to sink down the thick length of Frankie’s cock. You squeezed your eyes shut and moved slowly, breathing deeply and adjusting to the full, throbbing, wanting ache of your pussy around him. When you felt ready to move, you opened them to find your husband between your wide open legs, staring darkly at the place where Frankie entered you. The delicate skin stretched so prettily over a big cock. He didn’t think he would ever get the image out of his mind. Neither the sight nor the sound of slapping skin, the harmony of your cries and Frankie’s grunts as he fucked up slowly into you. Not the smell of your arousal, covering all three of you now.

Frankie’s arms were around you, one across your stomach and one across your chest, giving him leverage to fuck your as he saw fit. Soft and crazy or hard and fast. He tried it all and you took it. You took his cock while Santi shifted on his knees, face mere inches from where you were speared on Frankie’s fat cock. He watched you rub your clit in small circles before he knocked your hand away. “Yeah. Look at that. Look at that pretty pussy. Look at how greedy. Think we could both fit?” Santi teased, before spitting onto your pussy. He watched it drip down past your clit before leaning in to lick it back up. He repeated the vulgar action, then sucked your swollen clit between his full lips.

You couldn’t help the pornographic moaning. Frankie cursed in Spanish under you as your clenched around him. When Santi relented, releasing your clit, they spoke strained, clipped sentences to each other in their native tongue. Frankie thrust deeper and Santi resumed his licking, fisting his own turgid member while thumbing at your puffy lips, licking up your slick, then tipping his head lower to press his tongue right over the place where Frankie entered you. He was wild, licking and mouthing as your cunt and Frankie’s cock, laving wet licks over his friend’s heavy balls until Frankie slammed into you one last time, filling you with his hot cum, fucking it deep. As Frankie covered you on the inside, Santi jerked himself to completion, shooting his load onto your cunt in thick white ribbons, lacing it over Frankie’s balls, the bottom of his cock. He admired his work for several moments, heart racing. He watched as Frankie’s cum began to leak out of you and dripped down fo mix with his own on Frankie’s cock.

When the three of you peeled yourselves apart, you relaxed a while on the desecrated sofa, Santi held you and you held Frankie. You ran your hands through his sweat damp curls, kissed his neck tenderly, told him how good he did. You gave Santi the same treatment, showering him with adoration and gratitude for agreeing to this and for helping you bring Frankie into the fold.

“Next time,” Santi suggested, “we should film it.”

[erinwantstowrite]

Hi I know you mentioned you being aroace just a couple days ago and I was wondering if maybe you could explain more in depth about how you found out your sexuality and what not? If it’s not too personal…

I’ve always sorta struggled since I haven’t had any crushes as a kid except for maybe one and that’s just cause ppl kept asking me who mine was… so I don’t even think it was a legit crush?? So not only do I not know who (looks,gender, that sorta thing) I would like … am I ever gonna like someone to even find that out???

I know you said Superman on the new trailer was hot ahaha so do you still experience that sort of physical attraction? I’ve been told when people question which gender they like, to pick which one looks more attractive to them but I’ve never really experienced that sort of physical attraction so I can’t tell that way either…

I think any thought of a crush forming was more towards their personality as well. Looks I guess are more of a second thought I think..? Even then I can’t tell if this is “you’re such an awesome person I wanna be besties with you” really strong feeling or an actual “I wanna date this person” feeling.

The only person I’ve gotten really close to discerning it as officially crush was someone from work who was older by a good amount… which can be/is pretty weird.. Lots of people my age are just a little too crazy for me.. I guess??? Idk and even now I can’t tell if that was just “glad to have someone as a friend sorta thing. I’m really sorry if this is too personal and u don’t have to respond to the ask directly either I was just hoping on maybe some advice for some clarity if possible… as I get older and realize I’ve never dated/had that sorta infatuation it feels so excluding at times.

Also I am hoping for a feast AND desert with this “‘soon’ but still haven’t posted it two days later” chapter plz and thank you

I hope this made sense and wasn’t too invasive!! :(

when i was younger, i was reading about this kind of thing online and i didn't find anyone like me. i think it's about time that i come full circle and make my own post. i've got like half of my frontal lobe developed and i've been figuring out a lot of things about myself these past couple of years, and there might be someone out there who needs to hear this (´-`ʃ♡ƪ) so if anyone is interested, below the cut is a very long talk about how i figured some stuff out

when it came to my sexuality, i only started considering it when i was in middle school, going into high school. (which would be when i was 12-13). that's when a lot of my friends started having crushes on our classmates and i realized they were being serious when they said they had crushes on people. they had figured out their identities as being a lesbian or bisexual, and they had relationships. (or as close as you can get to that in middle school).

i started to panic and think that i was lagging behind. and i really started to repress my feelings about dating people and romance and what that would entail. i found out through the internet about being pansexual. at the time i thought "oh, they have the same attraction for everyone!" and i slapped it on myself because i thought it would fix everything. i even came out to my parents as pansexual and for a while i left it at that.

i had an idea of romance. i shipped characters in media and i knew that my parents really loved each other. there were a lot of examples for love in my life that weren't the best, but having two parents that actually did care about each other made me want that for myself in the future...

but that's in the future. i personally didn't think about it much because we were still kids. for a while i didn't think anyone else was being serious, that they were just trying it out quicker than i was ready for. it was a strange feeling. i guess i still believed we were playing make believe, or copying what we saw on TV or with our parents. often when my friends asked me who i had a crush on and i felt pressured, i would pick someone that i thought i wouldn't mind dating if i had to. someone would be "interested" in me and i would say "okay" because i felt like that was part of this game we all seemed to be playing. i've had a few "boyfriends" over the years that got people off my back when i had them. in elementary school it was this boy that didn't pick on me, another boy that was my parents' friend's kid. in middle school i had an online boyfriend and a couple of "crushes" on friends of friends, someone just a little far out of my circle that didn't shake anything up. my friends would help me get together with a person and they'd seem so excited for me, so i just went along with it.

then it hit me that they weren't doing it just to do it, or playing pretend. they actually felt something when they were interacting with their crushes. i started to reread books and rewatch media and really grasp what they were saying. the feeling of having butterflies inside them when they talked to each other, blushing when something was said? i thought that was about a general anxiety people get when talking to other people. but there was always something more to it that i just... didn't get. no matter how hard i tried, i didn't understand what that something was.

then started coming the pressure to do the same, to fit in. that's why i accepted a label of pansexual. it was "strange" but at least it didn't feel "broken." i could deal with people telling me that i was wrong for liking more than just boys. but to say that there was no one on the table gave me an anxiety i'd never felt before. like i would be letting down my family, that the entire course of my life would shift. i wouldn't walk down the aisle because there would be no wedding. my parents wouldn't have grandkids. my friends would go on to have lives completely separate from mine, we'd have nothing in common anymore. so i stuffed it all down and made myself believe that this wasn't who i was.

it really mixed me up because i did have a couple of "crushes" that felt real. there were a few girls i was friends with, there were boys in my classes (usually class clowns...) that i'd get excited to see every day. when i thought about dating them, it felt nice. any other time when i thought about dating someone, i'd get this awful feeling in my gut that i later realized was dread. i was fully convinced it was different from all the other times. that "different" that i didn't understand before.

it was different! but not for the reason i thought it was. those people made me laugh, they listened and remembered things about me (that i didn't get much of during that time of my life), and most of all: they didn't like me back.

there were literally no expectations in their eyes for things to go away from friendship. and i think that's what made me like them, but not as a crush. it was relief. there was always an expectation for other people (specifically boys) that if we were friends, things would stray from friendship at some point. not with these people. that relief, combined with all the other good feelings they gave me (class clowns...) made it so much easier to fall into a friendship that i didn't have with other people. and i was in denial for so long that i thought of those friendships as crushes because they were different from other friendships.

there were a couple of times that i got close to having to face my sexuality and it felt like a gut punch. there were a couple of people i was friends with (that i didn't have crushes on) that i had previously thought "if i had to pick someone" about. but when they actually told me their feelings, i would run away. in one case, i literally ran away. i changed my entire routine so that i wouldn't have to face them. and i'm a creature of habit, so of course i took that step back and asked myself why i was having such a strong reaction. my friends didn't understand why i was so panicked about these confessions. especially because before, i "liked" people and had no problem with it.

part of my feelings were that no one would actually like me (which only furthered me not wanting/not considering romance). some of the confessions that i got were fake/pranks, and it would really mess with my head. i wasn't skinny, i knew i was strange and awkward, and i could be very brash and stubborn. i had a weird sense of humor and i missed social ques. i got a lot of "you should be a lawyer" and complaints of being bossy when i was growing up and i always knew they really meant "you're a bitch." i wouldn't understand why i felt so othered from my peers like that until i learned i was possibly autistic, and i only found that out a couple years ago. combined with being plus sized and not conventionally attractive, i didn't get much breathing room. if i wasn't perfectly calm all the time, if i didn't force myself to be overly nice to people, and if i wasn't funny, i'd get told i was "draining" to be around.

i did a lot to try and fit in. i kept my hair long because people would compliment it, i tried to wear skirts instead of pants/shorts, i'd wear comfy clothes and the like so i didn't look like i was trying too hard. a lot of my personality was forced and i was the one who was being drained instead. i ended up having to get a radar for when people were just messing with me. and so when a real confession happened, there was a combination of anxiety about if they were faking or not, doubt that they could actually like me, and then a deep rooted fear about if they were being serious.

instead of the relief i should have felt when i learned it was a real confession, i still felt scared. it would be the same anxiety as if someone asked me to get on the world's tallest roller coaster in the world and i had just seen a chunk of the roller coaster fall in front of me.

that part made it even harder to come to grips with my sexuality. i thought if i gave up on being a hopeless romantic, i'd be giving in to all the times someone told me "I just don't see you dating anyone." being unlovable was a death sentence in my eyes. and it didn't help that i've lived in the south all my life. i was already strange and going to hell for a multitude of things. turning around and telling them that i was going against every expectation set of me to get married and have kids by 24????

(i should clarify that my parents had never been the ones to put this in my mind. when i came out as pansexual, they had only been confused about what the hell that was. the rest of their reaction was "i mean... we could already sort of tell." and while my parents had hopes for my future, i knew deep down that while they'd be a little sad not to have those expected memories with me, they wouldn't turn me away. and they would very likely be happy to create a whole different set of memories with me.)

i have my current friends to thank for me coming to terms with who i am. by the time i was in college i had started to question everything. my middle school friend group had been majority queer but we had gone to different schools or just faded apart. in high school, a majority of my time was spent in band. and while i was one of those people who had friends in a variety of friend groups, the closest friends i had were the people in my section that i sat next to every day. and in the present time, only a couple of them remained straight churchgoers. even though they've changed now just like i have, during high school i was a different story.

going to college opened me up to a far different experience. by this point i'd shifted from pansexual to bisexual. my college experience wasn't... ideal. or really healthy in any aspect. but meeting these people did dislodge the mindset i'd had for most of my life. and my current friends have changed my life. the fear that i had about being aromantic has now become the relief i needed my entire life. it doesn't feel broken, or wrong, or strange. sometimes i do feel sad about it, or question if this is really the case. maybe one day i'll meet someone who shows me that "different" feeling i'd been waiting to understand. but i grew past the societal expectation of needing a partner to be fulfilled in life and i'm so much happier.

life doesn't need to be about that partner. i have many, many friends and family to grow old with. i have a godchild!! one day i'll have my own house to celebrate holidays and achievements at, to host my friends and family. i'll have pets that i love and i'll have my own career, and i'll be happy because i never needed to fit expectations to be happy.

when it comes to anything sexual, it's sort of the same feeling as when i had "crushes" on people in real life. though also different? i don't look at real people and feel an attraction beyond knowing that they are attractive, objectively. i can feel attraction sometimes in a physical sense, but i have no interest in having anything personal happening between us. a fictional character has no interest in me, and so it feels safe to think that they're hot and to express it. like sure, yeah, i have a crush on them! i get giggly when Captain Smoker from One Piece shows up on the screen, and the new Superman makes me think "oh! okay!" but if they were real and in front of me? i'd probably... lose that attraction, like it was never there.

here's the kicker, though, and might sound weird at first: you don't have to put a label on yourself

yeah, i do consider myself aroace. but the world is ever changing and so is the human experience. it helps to have a basis, to understand your feelings and work through them. it's nice to be like "there is a name for this" and to find a community through that. i'm not saying there's anything wrong about figuring out your identity and saying "I'm this, this, and this!" nothing at all wrong with that. but we're all figuring ourselves out, all the time. it doesn't end when you put the label on. you have the entire rest of your life to continue learning things about yourself and the world around you. i wish i'd known in middle school that i didn't have to rush it, that i have every opportunity to take it one phase at a time. a human life seems fleeting, especially when you're looking back on your past and feeling like the time flew by. but that's just our perception of it as we look back.

what i mean to say it that it's okay to backtrack. it's okay to change your mind. it's okay to not put a label on it. it's okay to put a label on it. it's okay not to tell anyone, if you don't want to. it's okay to say "i'll figure it out." and it's okay if you don't. it's okay if you sit up in bed one day when you're 60 years old and go "that's what it is." as long as you live your life listening to yourself and not trying to meet an expectation you think you have to, then you're doing it right.

and it's okay if you lived your life like i did, and you didn't do any of that. being a human is messy and that's part of life. you're not gonna get it right the first time- but even then, sometimes you will! there's a nuance and a spectrum to everything you experience. take pride in who you are even if you don't have a clue yet. be kind to yourself. you're gonna be okay.

[yandere-wishes]

So, mittens totally has a white suit. While Kitten and Stray and Jason's Cat (don't remember her name help) all wear black.

This is canon now, it must be

Love how this series has its own canon now🤣🤣 does that mean we can make AU's for it ?? 🤔🤔

Oh yeah I totally agree Mittens 100% wears white even though Selina is against it ( stands out too much and get dirty easily) but her logic behind it is that Robin (Dick) gets to wear bright greens and yellows and unless Selina wants Mittens to do that too than she'll agree to the white. Selina is super annoyed she didn't even WANT Mittens out on missions, but whatever. Worst case scenario It'll end up being a good lesson in how to escape a holding cell. Later, mittens might even add some baby blues as highlights.

Stary and Miss Kitty (Jason's cat) would totally wear black. I'm thinking Stray would compliment it with dark pinks/golds. Miss Kitty's suit might have pastel tone down pinks or maybe maroon as her complimenting colors.

Idk why but for Kitten I can't stop thinking she would wear dark purples (like catwomans old old suit/BTAA suit) and silvers/blacks.

But honestly I never mention the color of the suits so that readers can imagine it however they want. Still it's l fun to talk about the cat!family's fashion choices 💞💞

I'll admit I've made a whole spreadsheet on this series. I focus a lot on their weapons/weapon lore. But it never really made it into anything I've written so far. Also added somethings about their hobbies and how they see their batboy (I can post it + a masterlist if anyone would be interested)

As for Starcat (Terry Mcginnis cat!girl), I'm thinking she would wear black too but with some slick robotic modifications!!

[serpentine-illusion]

🔊Yapping about my Cirrus/Copia/Aether delusions and y’all are forced to listen 🔊 [ part 1 ]

At some point i promised thoughts and delusions about whatever I am on atm so here it is. I am so deep in the trenches about this ship, this is like a general train of thought ive had for them and their dynamic, how things worked out, what is going on all that. This is up until Copia becomes Papa, I will make a second post with the rest :)

[Some things in here are definitely not at all supported by the lore, this is mostly me being delusional and straight up making shit up and playing with my barbie dolls so 🙌🏻]’

Also!!! If you are looking for like fluff, healthy headcanons about fictional relationships, this might not be the post for you! They are quite toxic and I think exploring toxic people and toxic relationships is very interesting, so just keep that in mind :)

-Cirrus imprints on him as soon as he summons her, idk why, she just does

-she is totally infatuated with, they are glued together most of the time and she takes a lot of tasks and responsibilities off his shoulders. She worships that man physically and spiritually bro

-they do start out as just friends, they have a lot in common and spend A LOT of time together. They have similar personalities, in group settings they seem more reserved and quiet but when they are amongst themselves they usually get loud and passionate about whatever they are talking about

-Copia is sort of confused by ghoul dynamics and finds them hard to navigate/doesnt know how to properly insert himself into the group/what boundaries he should be aware of etc, while cirrus is nervous about overstepping and scaring him off

-they sort of naturally just…develop into something more. They spend more time together, they have really intimate conversations and share a lot with each other, touches linger longer, physical boundaries are non existent.

-theres no official start to them ‘dating’, their bond is just extremely strong and it develops into that direction and they dont really hesitate when it comes to going further

-ghoul dynamics are sort of poly by default. The ghouls all mingle with each other, some have stronger bonds ( cirrus and cumulus are very very close, later her and aether as well)

-BUT cirrus is very territorial. She is very protective and can get very condescending when it comes to her bond with copia. she gets jealous easily when he spends time with the other ghouls.

-cirrus is still actively involved with the other ghouls, it comes natural, but she gets very bothered when anyone but her is close to copia

-the other ghouls are….irritated with this for sure

-Cirrus is sort of stuck in the middle. She feels like she has little to no control over her jealousy when it comes to copia, but on the other hand she feels very self conscious about how the other ghouls perceive her in that context.

-Copia is super aware that she is totally codependent. He can tell its having an impact on her dynamic with the other ghouls and he knows its a bad look on himself to have a ghoul tend to all of his needs 24/7. But he doesn’t do anything about it because he enjoys being the center of attention.

-Cirrus is assigned other tasks with a handful of other ghouls when the Rat MV incident occurs ( I talked about this on my copia reference sheet).

-the only ghouls shooting the MV with copia are dewdrop, mountain and swiss (idc if this isnt accurate my house my rules) and cirrus has a normal reaction and doesnt overreact at all ( she completely crashes out. )

-Copia is send to the infirmary for treatment and cirrus is not allowed to see him ( higher clergy administration generally doesnt care about ghouls beyond their use and purpose. Cirrus doesnt work in the infirmary, so she has no business being there. Copia is not Papa at this point, so he does not really have a say in the matter either. )

-The only way Cirrus can get an update on Copias condition is through Aether ( Aether works in the hospital wing because he has very strong quintessence magic and is overall responsible and reliable )

-Aether and Cirrus have been close before, but they grow super close here

-they genuinely really like each other, they are similar in character, they have the same humor and they enjoy the same things

-Aether loves Cirrus, he thinks shes pretty (🥴🥴😳😳) and responsible. He admires how strong minded and passionate she is. He can also see that Cirrus bottles up a lot, she takes up a lot of responsibilities and doesn’t share when something is too much for her. Because she seems like a reliable person, the other ghouls rarely ask how shes actually doing.

-Aether comforts her a lot and they spend a lot of time together

-when Copia gets out, Cirrus is devastated by his injury. He uses crutches and is in a lot of pain and she totally blames herself for not being there when it happened and for not taking care of him right after the accident.

-Cirrus totally takes over, she makes sure Copia doesnt have to lift a finger, shes mad with worry and shes scared hes gonna break if she doesnt do literally everything for him

-Copia thinks its endearing, but at the same time he is frustrated. He definitely gets a little stir crazy and irritated that she doesnt allow him to do his usual work.

-They definitely get into it a little bit, Copia is trying to make her understand that shes smothering him, hes not as fragile as she makes him feel

-Cirrus like, gets it and she feels bad but at the same time she totally feels like shes losing control and losing him when shes not up in his business 24/7

-Aether spends a lot of time with both of them, he does physical therapy with Copia, infuses his joints with quintessence and in general is there to help him get back on his feet

-Cirrus and Aeth have gotten super super close and Copia expresses he would be happy to welcome Aether into whatever they have

-Cirrus is like. Shes ok with it. She likes Aether so much and she knows realistically this is a great dynamic. They would work well as a trio. Copia gets along with both of them.

-BUT she is so so jealous already, shes fuming inside, her guts hurt thinking about sharing him but she still agrees because she wants Aether to be with the both of them. She is so torn between her rational love for Aether, and being completely devoted to Copia at the same time. It shouldnt be hard to let him in but she is just never able to find any balance.

-So they let Aether into their situationship and it works well. He balances out the dynamic Cirrus and Copia have. Aether is a little more casual than Cirrus for sure, he doesnt obsess as much.

-Cirrus has like. Rules. She has rules in place for boundaries and rules Aether has to respect in the relationship. They only apply to his dynamic with Copia though and Aether is obviously frustrated with her. Cirrus and Aether usually communicate well, they communicate like 2 sane adults, but when it comes to Copia, Cirrus needs to be in control, she needs to oversee everything and it drives Aether nuts.

-Copia does admit to Aether that those rules didnt exactly come from him, but he also never stops Cirrus from making them, because he likes being treated like her little trophy that she doesnt want to share and he also loves her too much to make her upset by denying her the control she needs

-its obviously very inconsiderate and makes Aether feel like hes third wheeling a little bit, but Aether is a people pleaser, he does what hes told to make the people around him happy, so he goes along with it.

-once copia recovers they sort of all go back to relative normalcy. He uses a cane permanently now, definitely lost some mobility and is forced to be way more sedentary.

-He really doesnt mind it. He has been under a lot of pressure from everyone, about everything. How much he works, how he looks, what he does and now everyone is finally giving him more grace.

-he tries to give himself more grace too, he tries to be nicer to himself, he's still pretty bothered about how much or little he works, what he accomplishes etc but he's less bothered by...like himself

-he's always worried and anxious but Aether and Cirrus make him feel good about the way he looks and thinks. He gains some weight and its healthy relationship and recovery weight.

-Cirrus is like, in pain with him, she knows its a change for him that is hard on him and she does everything she can to make him feel better and take care of him

-BUT (and she feels horrible about this) its easier to keep him close to her this way. He relies on her way more now and she enjoys it. And she knows she shouldnt.

-Her and Aether rarely get into fights. They both always tough it out when they have a problem and then find softness and comfort in each other again.

I think this is all for now, at some point I will make a part 2.

[candieduranium]

my intro post

i guess it’s about time i made one of these

(why does this have so many notes???😭/genuine)

long ass intro oml

last updated jan 19, 2025

wahhhh

•my name is micah but i also respond to furcata and rover

•she/any pronouns

•im a minor

•i am a christian. i do not force it onto other people. please respect my religion.

•i make mistakes on my blog (accidentally deleting things, unbalanced polls, etc.) from time to time so please excuse if i make some errors. trying my best.

•i am an american barn owl therian, vernid othermidst, machinehearted, and pigeonhearted.

• i am a quadrobist. i started in april of 2024.

•usually the things i post are about my alterhumanity but i also post golden texts my friends and i send each other along with some other stuff. sometimes in my posts there are mentions of sex and (mild?) sexual themes

•im also a furry. furry ≠ zoophile

•my favorite music is by greta van fleet, iroharingo, hachi, and umbrabyte. i also just enjoy vocaloid in general, too. in fact, the original purpose i had for my blog was just to keep up with umbrabyte and her content better

•my favorite aesthetics are cybercore, mizuiro/tenshi kaiwai, vaporwave, and rococo

•my only definite dni is if your blog is focused on nsfw, has sexually explicit images, or unsafe for minors in general. radqueers, zoophiles, etc are on very thin ice.

•i am pro endogenic and i do not tolerate attacks on endos

•haters will be blocked unless i find them especially funny.

•im up for chatting about whatever whenever so just shoot me a dm if you feel like it (sfw, obviously)

•my hobbies and special interests are drums, classical latin, fursuit making, cosplay, and illustrating

•i’m /very/ interested in learning how to make vtuber models and customize ball-jointed dolls

•my main fandoms are umbrabyte, sth, tloz, pjsk, and tadc (i know some these fandoms are known for having /crazy/ and problematic fans. im not one of them)

•i have a 4 year old black cat named dumpling (i post pics of him sometimes) and a 17 year old dog named stella. i hope to get a couple of oranda goldfish someday

cat pic woo

•no posting schedule

•i follow anyone who interacts with my posts positively when im not in their dni and theyre not in mine and their blog isn’t completely default/blank this is now false. i have just learned that the maximum follow count is 5k and i am already above 4k. there are too many of you for me to follow you all😭

𓆝 𓆟 𓆞 𓆝 𓆟

cool transition idk

mild eyestrain warning ⚠️

how the fuck does this have so many notes??😭

i’ll probably update this post later on since im sure there’s something i forgot. check back with me every once in a while and i might have some new content on this post

thanks for reading 👍👍

[thatswhatsushesaid]

re: my tags about jgy and qin su in my reblog of that "does your blorbo have ptsd" tumblr poll, can we revisit that excruciating conversation in the jinlintai treasure room in cql? because one of my least favourite reads on jgy's expression and body language here is that he's being "creepy." and to be clear, i'm not trying to say you're wrong to draw those inferences here, because his behaviour is deeply, deeply unsettling, and i also find this scene hard to watch and to read in the novel. but i think if that's where your examination of him begins and ends here, you're doing yourself--and zhu zanjin's exquisite performance--a disservice.

so the 'creepy' bit is preceded by what jgy says to qin su while she has her back turned, and i find his words heartbreakingly sincere and very reflective of a man who has spent his life forced to feel shame and embarrassment over his mother, who he loves dearly and who he watched suffer right up until the moment of her death:

there are a few more very poignant lines in there about his mother and the depth of his gratitude to qin su (these show up in the novel, too), but i think the above encapsulates the same message. then the atmosphere shifts, and so does jgy's expression when he talks about jin rusong and how his death would have been inevitable--essential, even. this is also where i most often see him described as acting like a creep, and i have two separate responses to this that i don't really have the time to get into right now, but which have both doylist and watsonian components to them so 👀 you can probably make some guesses about what my arguments would be. if there's enough interest, i might come back to this later and put together a separate post about it, idk. anyway, i'm not going to get into the 'is he a creep' argument here because tl;dr no, i don't think he is, and also--

i find jgy's expressions here to be more indicative of a man who is, shall we say, Not His Best Self At The Moment 🫠 rather than a man who is intentionally trying to make a wife who, by her own admission, he has treated very well for the entirety of their marriage, uncomfortable. his attention isn't even on qin su or the hell that she is experiencing right now--because he is re-experiencing his own hell. because he, too, is traumatized by this knowledge! he's just had a decade and change to develop some deeply unhealthy coping mechanisms and masking techniques to hide it.

at this point qin su whips around and slaps him, which i know everyone likes to gif and fistbump and holler about in a positive way, but given there is no one in this scene who isn't enduring profound trauma in this moment, i, uh. you know. won't be doing that. i will focus on his face journey in the expressions that follow because they are just so

dissociating

dissociating

dissociating

/executive function switch is flipped in his superbly wrinkly brain, and then "qin su :) we still have so many guests to attend at the discussion conference :)"

a-yao? sir?? hello??? also i do not have the quote from the novel directly in front of me, but iirc he says something very similar here to what he does in the novel, which i'll have to paraphrase: that this revelation is only bothering qin su so much because she is actively thinking about it! it's only thoughts, you see! just don't think about it! haven't they actually been very happy all this time, while only one of them had to live with this knowledge and could not share it with anyone?

to which i can only respond with abject, horrified shock because, like. have you, jin guangyao? been happy and unperturbed by this devastating knowledge? because i think the answer is a pretty definitive no.

anyway i just wanted to quickly keymash my thoughts on this before they fled my brain completely but tl;dr yes, while jgy would not use this language to describe himself, he's absolutely got ptsd specifically around his marriage to his own half-sister, and their son.

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this post has been added to my dreamwidth meta archive here: https://thatswhatsushewrote.dreamwidth.org/10607.html