#no matter what people say it's a lot better

[mauannacreates]

Hmm, that is pretty interesting. I guess it's a bit like if we are going to go in writing terms and talking about fandoms of your own work, it's like what could it be like if a two set of characters that you wouldn't exactly anticipate would be together.

Or I guess, let's say you were to put your characters into a different world, and pretend that you don't know the exact dynamics of how each of the characters react to each other -- or even better! Imagine if the characters you have are all batched in one set world but you have all of these characters there.

What would their relationships be like?

Fandom is such a fascinating thing, and I guess the way that fandom can be explored besides the let's take the characters to a different place and have the same relationships what not. When I am thinking of good fandom, I am thinking like Inverted Fate's undertale. Like to create a whole different world with the characters in a specific fandom and having the characters taking different roles and building up their own story.

Like if I were to think of fandoms in the way that Inverted fate takes it, it's a pretty cool concept to grasp and to think: gosh, if my world were to be reconstructed in a different way, what would it be like?

As a writer and someone who creates stories, it's my duty as a writer to create captivating stories which would interest not just me, but it would also be nice to see other people pick it up and see their opinions on it (Although it would be exciting as well as scary). And as much as I have taken lots of time to know my characters, I've gone through stages where you'd test things out.

Throw a character in a ship with someone else. Throw a character to a particular role, or a stage in their life. Some of it sticks all the way through, even as you're trying different things. While others stay until you find something else and it files away and others... Well, you try to make it fit, but it can't.

There are certain directions that writers like me can take, but there are certain boundaries within them too. Like there are certain characters that may not come together for someone like me, but perhaps for another it might? Or maybe it's a character thing where no matter what you say, they'd rather stick with a particular thing.

Or it could depend on the role and the place the character is in.

So in my opinion, I guess it would be the way the story is constructed, and it's the constant use of testing and seeing what works which would show you how a fandom is. Perhaps with how I've refined my ideas over time, I've made a few different fandoms, or at least had thought of different ideas before reaching to the place of where I currently am or would be in time.

I mean, I laugh at imagining my characters being in real life, perhaps having day jobs instead of having castles and who knows, maybe lots of my characters would own cars, going to school or university, who knows.

[innuendostudios]

New Alt-Right Playbook! This one was co-written with, and narrated by, Abigail Thorn of PhilosophyTube. We talk about the feint wherein a person is somehow rhetorically stronger being wrong on two fronts instead of one.

If you think this is good work and would like to see good work compensated, you can back me and/or Abi on Patreon.

Transcript below the cut.

Say, for the sake of argument, you’re having a discussion with a coworker about healthcare. (Actually, let’s go ahead and drop the pretence: you’re having a discussion about trans healthcare.) He says puberty blockers should be banned because some study said they're dangerous. And you’re a thoughtful person, so you look it up.

Only when you do, you find the study doesn’t say what he said it does. Maybe it says something close, maybe it says the total opposite! But more than that, you realize - even if it said what he said it did, that still wouldn’t support his argument. “Dangerous” could mean a lot of things - a little? a lot? low risk, high risk? Maybe one study isn’t enough to go on. Hell, maybe it’s bogus for a whole host of other reasons! Maybe it’s written by people with an obvious agenda, or contradicted by a better study he’s ignoring. So you go back and tell your coworker, “Hey, the study doesn’t say that, and even if it did, y’know…” But he simply repeats “The study said they’re dangerous.” He’s not just wrong… he’s 

DOUBLEWRONG

Institutions create policy documents all the time. Anti-bullying policies, climate policies, DEI policies - your job probably has a bunch of them. But a lot of the time these documents exist not to be read or followed, just pointed to. If someone is bullied, harassed, or discriminated against, managers might point to a policy that says, ‘We are committed to not doing that.’ And… that’s it. The more you insist, ‘Hey, these policies aren’t being followed, the problem still exists!’ the more you become the problem.

The document is a dummy argument, a substitute for the real one: ‘There’s a problem’ Vs ‘No there isn’t.’ This isn’t a conversation about what some document says or doesn’t say; it’s a conversation about power.

When your coworker cites a study that doesn’t support his argument, he’s using that document in a similar way. He’s not reading it; just pointing to it. ‘This piece of paper means you have to listen to me.’ The study could be about plankton, or Henry VIII, or squirrel poop for all the difference it makes. (Okay, maybe it matters a little: it has to at least look semi-legit at a glance.) He’s not using evidence to inform his position; he’s decided what his position is and he’s pantomiming evidence to support it.

It’s almost as if we’ve stumbled into The Sorcerer’s Apprentice! Little Mickey’s put on the hat and declared, “I know how this works! You stand up, all big and tall, and say ‘I have a study that says you have to do what I tell you!’ That’s how you always play it. Well, this time I’ve got a study, so you have to do as I say!”

And you can tell him, “That’s not how this works, Mickey: it’s a study, not an incantation. It has to actually say what you claim, and it has to be a good study.”

“Ohhh, look at you moving the goalposts! Look at you gatekeeping! Deciding which studies count and which ones don’t. Well I believe this one’s every bit as good as yours, and I believe it proves me right!”

And is that what he believes? Maybe. Maybe not. Remember: The Card Says Moops - you can’t prove he doesn’t believe that. And for the purposes of ‘You have to listen to me’ that’s all he needs. This is a battle of wills now, not information, each half of the doublewrong argument functioning as both motte and bailey. If you successfully expose that study as bogus he’ll move on to another, and you’ll only be undermining the scientific method in his view: if studies aren’t always to be trusted, if even quack science can get peer-reviewed, who’s to say your studies aren’t as bogus as his? And that’s if he doesn’t change evidence entirely - ‘Okay maybe I can’t prove puberty blockers are dangerous, but this study says trans kids have high regret rates; this one says they’re unhappy; this one says they’re brainwashed!’ 

He’s understood the rhetorical function of science, but not the substance. Or perhaps he’s understood the rhetorical function all too well, enough to know, for the purposes of argument, substance rarely matters.

From here, you can chart the course of the entire conversation stretching out before you: You might rush in, hold the document under his nose and say, ‘Look! It doesn’t say what you said it does! What’s the matter, can’t read?’ Which might be satisfying, but does make you look the pedantic asshole.

Or you can reject his so-called evidence as patently false, inadmissible, and leave yourself vulnerable to being obliterated the moment you make an honest mistake with a citation.

Or you can research every single shred of information he puts in front of you, so you can thoroughly debunk each and every one, which means he simply keeps putting bunk in front of you and drowns you with homework.

And he must see it, too, the conversation laid out in front of him. He hasn’t positioned himself to persuade you, but to ensure neither of you ever persuades the other. What is the purpose of this debate, then? This ritual? What is it you’re really arguing about?

Well, your coworker believes that the government (or a doctor doing what the government tells them) should force citizens from a minority to do something with their bodies they don’t want to do. But he won’t say that out loud because he knows that’s socially unacceptable. ‘I want the government to force people to do what I want with their bodies no matter how many of them die in the process,’ is an opinion that isn’t likely to make friends. So he substitutes the document for the thing he really believes. “It’s not me. It’s just science.” He is appealing to facts when, truthfully, this is a difference in values.

Doublewrong is a rhetorical technique to catch you out, to hide the real argument from you and leave you chasing the substitute. It also protects him.

People deploy these kinds of irrational, paradoxical moves to stop themselves thinking about topics that make them uncomfortable. If your coworker interrogated his values about the proper relationship between the government and minorities he might find he’s not the person he thought he was, or that his friends and colleagues expect him to be. (And you might too - let’s not pretend Leftists and Liberals have the moral high ground all the time - interrogating your fundamental values is an uncomfortable experience for most people.) He probably wants to think of himself as a good person, and yet he also believes (maybe not even consciously) that the government should own the bodies of at least some citizens. He knows he’d probably hate that if it happened to him, but he still wants it to happen to others. Doublewrong relieves him of the burden of forming a rational position. The document is his nice big safety blanket.

This plays on a human weakness that spans the entire political spectrum: we all wrap ourselves snug in faulty information from time to time. We share studies without reading because the abstract conforms to our assumptions; we treat a supposition that is likely as though it’s a proven fact. And this is, after a point, necessary: as informed as you are, you do have to stop researching somewhere. You do, at some point, have to go on assumptions, take someone’s word, trust that a pattern holds, because the video’s due before the end of the month if you want to charge your patrons and make rent!

…sorry.

But we do, sometimes, treat research as a ritual rather than a method. Because, often, we want to appeal to facts, papers, authorities, without having to do any of that pesky reasoning. But that is exactly what leaves us open to a doublewrong attack. The flaw with your coworker’s study is he’s using it to claim trans healthcare is dangerous, and he’s wrong. He has a comeback for every way you could try to convince him, but he’s still wrong. You can’t prove trans healthcare is safe by gesturing at studies, because the opposition won’t read them. And will write their own studies. You can’t prove it with peer review, because they’ll game peer review. You can’t call them liars because they’ll insist they’re sincere. There is no rule they can’t pervert, no system they can’t twist to their advantage. You can’t just appeal to things that signify “reason,” at some point one of you will have to do some actual reasoning to figure out who’s making sense, and, well, it’s not going to be them.

Remember: this is a conversation about values. Presuming you know what yours are, you may have to speak them aloud.

‘I think people should do what they like with their bodies without politicians interfering, and even if I thought puberty blockers were dangerous (which by the way they’re not because on the off-chance you actually care about evidence here’s all the good stuff) I think people have the right to make risky decisions about their healthcare too. If there was a drug with a 1% chance of healing your terminal cancer and a 99% chance of dangerous side effects I’d support your right to take it if you wanted.’ Now you’ve avoided the trap of arguing about what some document says. You’re focusing on the second, deeper part of the doublewrong instead of the first. You’ve also put him on the back foot: now he has to justify his values, which is exactly what he wanted to avoid!

Of course, he may just repeat himself: ‘The study says they’re dangerous!’ This is not a technique for winning arguments. It’s a technique for starting them.

[thatbadadvice]

Help! I'm A Private Person!

Neil Gaiman, Journal.NeilGaiman.com, 14 January 2025:

Over the past many months, I have watched the stories circulating the internet about me with horror and dismay. I’ve stayed quiet until now, both out of respect for the people who were sharing their stories and out of a desire not to draw even more attention to a lot of misinformation. I've always tried to be a private person, and felt increasingly that social media was the wrong place to talk about important personal matters. I've now reached the point where I feel that I should say something. As I read through this latest collection of accounts, there are moments I half-recognise and moments I don’t, descriptions of things that happened sitting beside things that emphatically did not happen. I’m far from a perfect person, but I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Ever.  I went back to read the messages I exchanged with the women around and following the occasions that have subsequently been reported as being abusive. These messages read now as they did when I received them – of two people enjoying entirely consensual sexual relationships and wanting to see one another again. At the time I was in those relationships, they seemed positive and happy on both sides. And I also realise, looking through them, years later, that I could have and should have done so much better. I was emotionally unavailable while being sexually available, self-focused and not as thoughtful as I could or should have been. I was obviously careless with people's hearts and feelings, and that's something that I really, deeply regret. It was selfish of me. I was caught up in my own story and I ignored other people's. I’ve spent some months now taking a long, hard look at who I have been and how I have made people feel.  Like most of us, I’m learning, and I'm trying to do the work needed, and I know that that's not an overnight process. I hope that with the help of good people, I'll continue to grow. I understand that not everyone will believe me or even care what I say but I’ll be doing the work anyway, for myself, my family and the people I love. I will be doing my very best to deserve their trust, as well as the trust of my readers. At the same time, as I reflect on my past – and as I re-review everything that actually happened as opposed to what is being alleged – I don't accept there was any abuse. To repeat, I have never engaged in non-consensual sexual activity with anyone. Some of the horrible stories now being told simply never happened, while others have been so distorted from what actually took place that they bear no relationship to reality. I am prepared to take responsibility for any missteps I made. I’m not willing to turn my back on the truth, and I can't accept being described as someone I am not, and cannot and will not admit to doing things I didn't do.

Dear Neil,

You, sir, are nothing other than fundamentally misunderstood — indicated in every sense by this, a smart and good post that you published on the whole-ass internet for literally the entire world to read.

The important thing is that you're learning! And you deserve infinite credit for that. Not nearly enough people appreciate how much you've learned about yourself in the course of ~ allegedly ~ committing sexual assault against multiple, probably crazy, women and the aftermath thereof. Less enlightened men would disregard the experiences of women who have highly specific and detailed accounts of being sexually abused, but you are open to the idea that the women who foolishly believe you assaulted them were simply mislead by your interminable charm! For which you cannot be held responsible! What a gift you are, friend; your generosity and open-mindedness are unparalleled.

Truly, whomst among us has not been where you find yourself now? Come, enjoy the company of friends who understand the brutal loneliness that results from being misunderstood by hysterical bitches who fail to appreciate the privilege of having your masterful fingers shoved up their asses without notice!

Again and again, women love men like you too much. They want you to be emotionally and sexually available! And that is just so, so much to ask. You have a lot going on! It's not a ding on them — of course they find you irresistible, being as you are an intellectual titan — and they may find themselves confused and intimidated by your sexual prowess, unaware that you exist in a world beyond pedestrian notions of consent. That is what makes your work so particularly meaningful and powerful.

You write about a man who does a bad thing, but you do the other good thing! You do a good thing, but in your work, a man does a bad thing! This is the stuff of sheer brilliance, capturing the sturm unt drang of the human condition — or, at least, of the humans whose conditions matter most, which is to say, men of your creative stature.

The sorry truth is that despite your best efforts, no one understands you, the author of 40-plus years of written work in which you had every fucking opportunity to emulate literally any character of your design who was not an unrepentant rapist. Whomst among us has not struggled with such quandaries? Whomst among us has not wondered: Should I rape women in the presence of my child, or should I just the fuck wait a minute and destroy my marriage by other means? Should I order a cinnamon bagel, or an egg sandwich? These are the questions men such as us must grapple with in a world where cancel culture has run rampant, and where people are liable to believe anything they hear from over half a dozen unbridled harpies (story idea! make sure Katee Robert doesn't see this, she seems like a bitch with designs) whose indeterminate fantasies have been aggressively fact-checked by risk-averse media legal departments.

You're right and everyone else is wrong, and that's exactly the take-away that everyone will have from reading this thing that you posted! Great work, great instincts, great writing. It's like Stardust, but hotter. You know what I mean.

A+ all around, no notes other than: you should share this with more people directly so they have the clearest possible idea of where you're coming from. Don't hold back, bud!

[koiblossom5]

As a chinese-canadian and a long-time user of xhs (xiaohongshu/little red book) I thought it might help to have some information and gentle reminders addressing the many rules + what kinds of content you can post on the app :)

To start, there's a lot of misconception about being able to post anime content. We aren't averse to Japanese content or media- as a matter of fact, there's a pretty big anime and cosplay community, especially on xhs!

Here are some photos from my trip to suzhou! (dungeon meshi and skip to loafer content was a mythical pull lol)

With that being said, it is disrespectful and offensive to post media and content containing or associating with the glorification/apologia, themes, symbols, etc., of Japanese imperialism and involvement during WWII. This includes AOT, MHA, and many other other popular animes.

Please note that I do not support censorship: I believe that people should have the freedom to post, express, and create media on social media platforms as well as have the ability to watch different kinds of shows - but considering xhs is an app from a foreign country, it is important to contextualize its local policies through historical lens. I strongly implore non-Chinese users to research Unit 731 and the Nanjing Massacre to better understand why certain types of content from Japan are banned and blacklisted in China.

2. There are active LGBTQ+ communities on xhs- and for many queer people in China, where the country's ideologies are still pre-dominantly conservative, social media platforms is one the few safe spaces where they can express their sexuality and/or gender identity, particularly for wlw (or le). It is important to keep in mind that progress in the LGBTQ+ rights movement in the East, specifically China, is at a very different stage compared to the West; please be respectful of the fact that the Chinese LGBTQ+ community has their own culture, their own slang, and their own ways of expression in a country where LGBTQ+ people continue to face legal and social discrimination.

3. When you first create your account, you might be quite daunted by the long, long, long list of rules and community guidelines, specifically the first section, where it states, "1. Values - XiaoHongShu encourages users to post content that aligns with current positive social values. All content posted should:

Adhere to the Chinese Constitution and laws.

Practice the core socialist values. (A list of values promoted by the Chinese government, which includes: prosperity, democracy, civility, harmony, freedom, equality, justice, the rule of law, patriotism, dedication, integrity, and friendship)

Promote patriotism, collectivism, and socialism.

Spread the correct views on history, nationality, state, and culture.

Promote the excellent traditional culture of the Chinese nation.

Uphold social ethics, professional ethics, family and personal virtues, and respect public order and good customs.

Promote scientific thinking and popularize scientific knowledge.

Advocate a positive, healthy, and progressive lifestyle and social trends."

No, this does not mean the content you post or interact with has to be about praising the CCP or saying, "I love communism!! 🤩". It just means you cannot be comparing Xi Jinping to W*nnie the P*oh (ifyyk).

The point is, try to avoid political discourse or criticism regarding the Chinese government on xhs, especially since xhs is a platform more akin to Pinterest or Instagram, where its more so a lighthearted place for travel tips, recipes, aesthetic fashion and makeup tips and inspiration, cosplay, cute animal videos, productive lifestyle and snapshots of simple life, etc! You can still discuss different things about Chinese culture and society, such as healthcare system, attitudes toward foreigners, income and spending, etc. But please be mindful that there are real people behind the screen; people who are not their government. I promise you, Chinese people are just as capable of poking fun, referencing brainrot, and interacting with non-Chinese people normally 💀.

Anyways, please take the time to review these rules and guidelines, especially since xhs is very strict about implementing them and can potentially lead to your account getting banned. This includes things such as:

excessive displays of wealth (be considerate of others' financial situations)

only sharing scientifically proven information/avoiding misinformation (no pseudoscience)

respecting boundaries (no nudity or sexual/sexually suggestive behavior; you can definitely show skin, but if you're making a grwm video please don't show up in your underwear - even on tiktok I never understood why influencers do that 😅)

etc, etc.

Many of the community guidelines are in line with social norms that are prominent in East Asia, which is understanding that a social media platform is a public space to be shared with others in a civil and respectful manner. And many of these guidelines refer to explicitness as a measurement - (fake) blood is fine, but gore and other such obscenities are not. You can kiss your significant other in a cute video, but you shouldn't be posting each other fornicating (this applies to both heterosexual and homosexual couples). You can swear, but you shouldn't be yelling racial slurs. Honestly, a lot of this is just common sense - xhs is supposed to be a wholesome, inspirational, and chill space!

4. Take this as an opportunity to learn about another culture, another language, and even make new friends! As long as you're civil, kind and respectful, xhs is super fun and entertaining! Of course, it's not representative of the Chinese internet space as a whole; the majority of users are women (so consider using "sis" or 姐 instead of "dude" or "bro" ). With that in mind, please be respectful in your comments - many of the women posting makeup edits or fashion videos are seeking appreciation, not sexual harassment 😅 even if a someone is posting a thirst trap, try to be tastefully humorous! If you're trying to communicate in Mandarin, I would suggest using the simplified Chinese Pinyin keyboard (QWERTY) and start learning the four different intonations of each character so you are able to sound out and type sentences using the alphabetical keyboard!

I hope this was helpful and legible, even if by a marginal amount (if this was actually incoherent, I apologize, I learned English by watching My Little Pony💀), and I hope everyone has a really fun experience on the app!

[jd-loves-fiction]

For your event, may I request Idia and first time together (as in making love)

idk how to word that better. sounded more romantic in my head. Lowkey love how you write Idia BSKEBEJ

💐oh honey thank you🥺you worded that fine hun, making it romantic is my job :3 also this smut is gonna have a heckin lot of plot so sit tight. Also HEAVILY inspired by the Hades game cuz i just love that version of the underworld❤ also couldn't resist adding some angst teehee

❧ Like mortals do

❧ Word count: 4k

❧ Contains: explicit sexual descriptions, handjob, unprotected sex (you're dead but... yknow), penetrative sex, afab!reader, inexperienced!Idia, the floweriest of languages

❧ Idia hates himself for thinking so, but he despises the way your heart remains guarded. No matter what. No matter how much you want to let him in.

He can tell, with the way you get so close to him when delivering documents, how your touch lingers when you hand them over.

And most of all, the way your eyes linger on his form when he is forced out of his office for one reason or another, before you look down bashfully. He can almost see red over your cheeks, were you capable of such a human feat after passing. 

But still, you close yourself off to him, allowing him only an arm's length of proximity and nothing more. 

He feels so selfish for thinking it, but oh, how he wishes he could take comfort from having you by his side during his necessary ventures outside of his chambers. Or better yet, to have you keep him company in his office. Perhaps then he'd actually feel motivated to get work done. 

After some time and research, he surmises that your attachment to the Overworld is to blame. 

And by that, he means he heard you mumbling about it and sighing wistfully while looking up at the cavernous sky of the Underworld. 

Idia decides that something must be done. Not only for his sake, no, mostly for yours, he reasons. Longing for a home no longer accessible will do you no good. 

"H-Hey," he greets you, stepping into the now lush garden, "I hope I'm not interrupting."

He seems to say this a lot nowadays, after having realized how much this place matters to you – your own sanctuary. Much like his office; Idia doesn't like when people enter his office without his permission. 

"Not at all. What do you need?"

"I need you to come with me. There's something I want to show you."

You stand before the door to the Temple of Styx, gulping down your nerves (or trying to) as Idia waits for your signal to open the massive gates.

“I must warn you, it’s only a temporary visit. One way or another, once your time is up, you will return to the Underworld.” The strangely serious tone makes you nod.

"Do you usually do this? For other people, I mean." Perhaps mindless small talk will help calm your nerves. Your ghostly heart is beating so hard you can barely hear Idia over the sound. 

"Of course not. Plus I don't believe the other Shades would want this." His answer raises many questions about how the Underworld works exactly, but you keep back from them. Not now, perhaps later. 

"Ready?" You don't know the answer to his question, but you nod anyway. If not now, never. 

Wind strong enough to knock you on your ass, were you still alive, blows past you as the gates open with a wave of Idia’s hand. Golden sunlight shines upon your skin, though you can no longer feel its heat.

Stepping forward, away from the massive doors, your feet land on soft snow.

The view from above is breathtaking, like something out of a painting... Without color. This simply because of what you're missing. 

You cannot feel the heat of the sun or the cold of the snow and chilly wind nor the softness of the snow beneath your feet and so it all feels... Distant. Hollow. Fake, even. 

You sit by a small stream, a thin layer of ice over it. Placing your feet over it doesn't even move it. Seems you really have no effect on this plane of existence. 

You feel as if you should cry, but no tears come forth, though you know they can, given how much you screamed and cried in agony on your first night of your new 'life'. 

Idia approaches you, you can hear the crunching of the snow beneath his feet, feel his presence behind you. But he doesn't say a word, perhaps not knowing what you need to hear. Nor what you want to hear. 

But there are none such words. For now, all you need is silence, the sound of rustling leaves and birds taking flight. 

“Your time is almost over. I’m sorry, but we must return now of our own will. Otherwise the Underworld will take us forcibly, and that won’t be pleasant.” Idia says gently, knowing he’s already pushing it and warning you too late.

"I just never thought–" Idia leans towards you curiously, waiting for you to continue speaking, "Nevermind."

A sudden tightening appears within your chest, perhaps it's emotion welling up from the knowledge that your original home is no more and all that's left is the desolate land of Death.

But it's not all so bad. Despite how much you resisted in the beginning, now, in this quiet moment, you realize that Idia is not nearly as terrible as you'd initially thought.

He gave you a home, a purpose, despite how much you insulted him to his face, not that you knew it was him then. And after so much pestering, he showed you something that someone dead would never have the chance to see, the Overworld.

You get up from your seat suddenly, hoping to thank him for all he’s done, to face the feelings that have been brewing in your chest for a while now. But dizziness hits you like the cold mountain wind and your legs nearly give out, “W-What’s happening?”

"I warned you. Time's up. But don't worry, it'll be over quickly." Idia speaks softly, hands on your shoulders as you start feeling even more faint.

Your breathing speeds up in a panic, even though you no longer need it, legs shaking under your own weight. Falling backwards, you land upon his chest as your eyelids fall slowly. And then, you're gone.

Waking up your eyelids feel far too heavy to lift, so they remain shut as you feel something lap at you, wet and cold. You realize it’s the blood pool back at the House of Shroud just as Idia takes your body into his arms.

He’s cold but you snuggle closer to his body, seeking not warmth but comfort.

Even as soft, unfamiliar, sheets press against your back, you cling to him. "...don't leave."

Idia blinks down at you, between your droopy eyes and the hands that cling to his clothing.

"I-I shouldn't." You groan at his response, hands crawling upwards and behind his neck to pull him closer. “You should. Because I said so.”

He chuckles before sighing, relaxing beneath your hands and laying beside you.

Idia smells of smoke and... snow. An odd combination to be sure but not wholly unpleasant.

“I wanted… ugh…” You begin, attempting to thank him at least, but your mouth feels as if it’s stuffed with cotton and your head feels both floaty and heavy. It’s as if your body demands sleep despite not needing it.

“Shh… we’ll talk later.” Idia whispers, seemingly cool and collected… if not for the shaking of the pale hand running through your hair. But the effect is the same, in what feels like a second, you’re out like a light, enjoying the luxury that is sleep in the Underworld.

“I see. Well, tell them to hurry it up, I’ve already given them plenty of time to finish it. I get that we have all eternity to get things done but still, I get rather impatient.” Idia’s voice sounds from somewhere distant as you come to, blinking blearily and wondering if you’re still dreaming with how stern he sounds.

No light stings your eyes as they open, finally taking in the dark, lavish room around you. Idia’s room… You’re in Idia’s room still… in his bed, no less.

You sit up so fast you feel dizzy out of human habit. It’s one thing to consider forgiving him, another still to think about confessing about the feelings you’ve kept so well hidden… but to sleep in his bed? You would never!

But… it’s so soft… and cool… and it smells just like him… Focus!

From the balcony beyond the dark curtains comes a grumble, followed by furious clicking and clacking. The long cloth parts just enough for a glimpse of his blue fire mane and for a moment you wonder; could you run your fingers through it like hair? Would it burn you?

Before you know it, your feet take you towards his half-hunched figure, fingers reaching out to sate your curiosities. Just as you get close Idia seems to send your presence behind himself, turning around to greet you, entirely unaware of the mental downpour going inside your head, “Oh! You’re up.”

His expression tells you he’s pleased with this, unlike his tone. He always did seem to have better control over his voice rather than his features.

“Is all that… normal?” Your voice sounds weaker than expected.

“It’s not common for mortals to visit the Overworld after passing but, from the few examples I’ve seen, yes. Very much so.” His voice sounds… oddly stable? Almost confident?

Strange. Very strange.

Sure, in the tales told of his attitude by the other shades he was always cold and stern, but the Idia you now know is anything but.

“T-There’s something I must tell you.” You’re now the one stuttering nervously, but admitting that you misjudged someone so badly would sting anyone’s ego.

Idia tilts his head curiously like a puppy and the thought makes you want to yell in confusion and frustration.

“I… forgive… you.” Getting the words out feels like walking through quicksand but it feels necessary. Despite him being the reason why you ended up here in the first place, Idia’s been nothing but downright indulgent with you in a way that he really didn't have to be and probably shouldn't be.

“I see now all that you’ve done to ease my sorrows. And I understand that I should not have expected to be given more time for being pious. Death comes for us all and I’m no different.” You finally raise you head, just catching the change in his expression, from bashful to somewhat anxious.

“I must be honest with you as well. Your death… was not entirely natural.” Idia looks off into the dark distance, brows furrowed thoughtfully, flame-hair moving rapidly, “I’m not s-sure if this is… something you want to hear about.”

“Yes!” You respond before he’s even done speaking, “I need to know the truth of it. Please,“ The desperation in your voice convinces him, clearing his throat to speak clearly, eyes conveniently averted.

“You were meant to have a much more… tragic death. One I felt was not befitting of your worth.”

“My worth?”

Idia’s wide shoulders drop, hair losing much of its brightness as a gloomy cloud forms over him, “Not many mortals worship my mother. Perhaps her deeds, but never her name… I felt you were worthy of some consideration because you are one of the few who did.”

Processing the information, you remain silent as he continues, “Our relationship’s never been very good but, us immortals, we can't just cut ties. A part of me will never forgive them both for what they did, or what they didn't. But another part of me will always be their son, so I felt I should… I don't know. This must make no sense to you… forget it.” His confidence runs out quickly as his eyes meet yours, cheeks flushing blue upon the pale canvas of his face, before he hides it behind his large hands.

“Why do you do that?”

“Do what…”

“Hide your face. I never imagined the gods… bashful.” The mere thought makes you chuckle.

The amusement is cut short upon seeing Idia's face fall, “I'm not like them.”

“Well, sure you're not.” His frown turns into a pout before you continue, “From what I know, you're much more pleasant to be around.”

“I- I appreciate that… but that's not what I meant.”

“What did you mean?” You ask innocently, watching as he curls in on himself, dark blue upon his cheeks.

“I'm just not– I don't– I'm not that handsome, beautiful, whatever you call it. People think I look strange.” He looks away from you, down at the dour grounds of his estate. You think to yourself that such a thing must not be true, not with what you see before you…

Your face flushes at the thought. Could it be that… your forgiveness of his actions… has turned to infatuation? Could it perhaps be that… it was always there beneath the scorn?

But you concede – he is indeed nothing like how you picture the gods to be. No skin of bronze stretched over absurd muscles like in the statues, no absurd posing and posturing at every turn…

“Since now is a time for honesty… No, you’re nothing like them.” The curiosity shining in his irises turns to resigned acceptance at your words, already imagining the worst of what you’ll say next. 

“You’re not extroverted, rowdy or entertaining. You don't walk around like everyone owes you something just because they get to look upon your splendorous visage.” Making a silly pose gets a low chuckle out of him.

“But you know what? I’m glad. Who can stand people– gods? Like that anyway? Not me… if that means anything.” Your face gets so warm so quickly while trying to make your feelings less obvious that you’re worried you might be cursed. That can't be normal.

“You’re…” Words fail you, so much you can and wish to say. How you’d much rather his bashfulness over their boldness, his attentiveness over their supposedly good natured obliviousness, the hesitant stutter of his purely honest words over their confident, practiced speeches. “No words would suffice to tell you just how starkly different you are from them.”

The candidness of your tone gives him pause, it’s as if all that you wish to say but are unable to somehow makes itself known to him anyway. Perhaps he can read minds? You wouldn't put it past him.

His gaze changes, softening to a gentle yellow like the first rays of sunlight peeking out over the horizon – you’re caught in it, unable and unwilling to resist the urge to draw closer and closer to his blue lips.

Idia hesitates at the last second, brows furrowed in frustration, no doubt overthinking the whole ordeal, but your emotions are just about ready to boil over so you heed their order and connect your lips decidedly, hesitation be damned. He’s tense for only a second, before eagerly grabbing at your shoulder as well as the balustrade; his attempt to remain chaste with his touches is adorable, even if all you want to do is devour him, let out all your frustrations along with your fondness for him in one go.

“Idia…” You whisper against his lips, feeling the immense heat of him against your face. The expression he makes is almost painful… delightfully so.

“Please don't do that… I can’t–” He pinches his eyes closed, but makes no move away from you. He’s flushed down to his chest just thinking about how badly he wants you – the thought fills you with a dangerous boldness.

“Why not? Aren’t you the king? You can do as you please… no?” Your hands trail down his arms teasingly, delighting in the way he shivers and twitches.

“I-It’s not so simple. There are rules and r-responsibilities…” It’s to you his consciousness is making up excuses for some reason. You loathe to think it could be the fault of the solitary life he’s lived, full of people who hate him just as you once did… without even knowing him at all.

“There is nothing… There is just you and me here. And I. Want. You.” He gulps loudly.

“If you’ll have me, of course.” The look on his face is hard to describe – it’s like you’ve given him all that he’s ever wanted in life and yet was never allowed to have, and told him that he can have it. 

He hastily grabs your hand to pull you into his bedroom again, his grip remaining surprisingly gentle. Once you make it to his bed, he tenses up, unsure of where to look, where to put his hands, “You’ve never done this before, have you?”

Momentarily, a flash of annoyance crosses his face as if he wants to disagree, before he realises you’re right, “Not the best place to… fall in love.”

“Sounds like someone didn't try hard enough,” you edge closer to where he sits at the edge of the bed – he refuses to meet your eyes still but seems to be more at ease than before, hands relaxed in his lap and hair slowly returning to its natural blue.

“Hey,” you croon, grasping his chin gently, “I can guide you, if you’d like. I’m no expert but I do know a bit about… worldly pleasures.”

“A bit more than me, I’m sure.” He replies bashfully, eyes glued to your lips as you draw close once more. You give him only a peck before pulling back, then going back in at the downright desperate look in his eye. Who knew a god would be so easy to bend.

Your hands grasp his in his distraction, pulling them to the edge of your robes. Lost in your kiss, which keeps getting hotter, he pulls the cloth away as you wordlessly command. The robes part easily, fluttering away from your body.

Once his eyes open, he finds himself staring at your bare form, flushing a deeper blue in response. A string of saliva hangs from his slack bottom lip, eyes roaming all of you appreciatively – though he seems much too flustered to admit it aloud.

“Now you.” You whisper, hands delicately placed at the edge of his ornate robes, before he gives a twitchy nod, closing his eyes as you lay him bare to your eyes.

Hands held you pull him to sit against the carved wooden headboard, observing his naked figure as you do. He sure looks godly. 

Idia’s eyes dart in every direction like corner prey, hands clenched around his silk sheets in what you suspect is more excitement than trepidation. You crawl to where he sits, kisses placed in what milky skin you pass by, delighting in his adorable twitching, “You’re a god, right? All you need to do is let me worship you.”

Not a second wasted, you start with his flushed neck, kisses laid against it like the flutter of a butterfly’s wings and still he flinches as if you’ve struck him with a leather whip. Descending to his pale chest, you do the same along with a gentle nibble close to his nipple, soothed quickly with a pass of your warm tongue.

He calls out your name like a prayer – desperate and vulnerable. If you were yourself a god, you think you’d not be too bad at it, since you’d never dare refuse such a humble request.

Your mouth moves almost on its own, your very soul utterly entranced by him and his delicious reactions to the touch of a mere mortal, kissing and licking his chest and abdomen more firmly now, as if it were possible to nibble your way through to the very soul of him and settle yourself there.

Drawing back to allow him to catch his breath, your gaze crawls over the way his features shift from the pleasure, dark blue over his features like watercolor paint. Your hand cradles the side of his face to grab his attention, before your other hand lowers itself to his cock – hard and darkened already, gleaming a faint silver at the tip. It’s beautiful and otherworldly, same as the rest of him and you ache to tug on it until he’s crumbling in your arms as mortals do.

Asking for silent permission with your gaze, you wrap your cool fingers around him once he nods, receiving an instant reaction when his back tenses up as if electricity just passed through him, a moan trapped in the back of his bashful throat. You’re suddenly filled with a need to get those sounds out of him.

Your hands move gently, up and down, grip steady but delicate. His breath is beyond uneven, hitching and exhaling in a rush at the slightest movement. Only a sliver of his eyes is open, watching you shyly, “You’re so beautiful, Idia.”

The face he makes makes it seems as if you’ve stabbed him, so gorgeously stunned for a moment before his head falls back with a breathy whimper, “Don’t– Gods, I–”

Movements continue, a rhythm established; when your thumb ghosts over his tip his whole body twitches. Who but the Fates could’ve foreseen that the man you so despised would end up putty at your feet.

By the way he reacts, Idia is undoubtedly close and so you slowly, carefully, pull your hand away – meeting his befuddled gaze head on as he finally looks you in your lust-darkened eyes, “Not yet,” you tell him.

His breathing is ragged as you place yourself on his lap, feeling the heat of him from the proximity. Hands around his face, you observe the frankly pitiful expression he sports – head lowered as he gazes up at you from beneath dark lashes, blue bottom lip poking outward slightly, “Please…”

You think for a moment that not spoiling this man might just be impossible.

“I’ve got you, my dear.” you whisper tenderly, kissing him sweetly. There’s something in his glowing gaze, an intensity you’ve never seen – he wants this as much as you, even if his mouth refuses to let him admit it.

Wordlessly, you grasp his cock again, moving it towards your drenched center, foreheads touching as he waits for you to move. You do when he’s not expecting it, tearing a sudden moan from deep within his chest as you insert the very tip of him into you.

His face immediately moved to the crook of your neck, hands gripping onto your side with a vice, entire body trembling at the warmth of you. Inch by delicious bitter inch, you sit yourself fully atop his milky lap, listening closely to his ruined breathing and quickened heartbeat. There are moans hiding behind his teeth and they escape him slowly and quietly when he cannot hold them within.

Your name falls from his lovely lips ceaselessly now, on every exhale as you start moving up and down on him, tenderly but firmly. He feels extraordinary inside you, stretching at every sensitive spot perfectly with unknowing precision. Despite how loud he is, you yourself cannot deny the effect he has on your body without even meaning to – you’re losing your mind as you ride him faster and faster without realizing it.

His mouth seals itself upon your neck suddenly, sharp teeth digging into your flesh in a way that would’ve hurt were you still alive, burying his sounds in your skin as you both grow closer and closer, “Almost there, I’ve got y-you, Idia. I’ve g-got you…”

The weakness in your reassurance makes it less convincing, not that Idia notices with how lost in the moment he is, high so close he can taste it on the back of his tongue along with the lingering taste of your skin. 

The very air around you seems to vibrate with undeniable power as Idia finally comes, heaving against your shoulder, noises finally unrestrained.

Your own end catches you off guard, so lost are you in his pleasure, punching the air from your lungs as you slam down on him one last time.

Breaths mingling, you sit for what could be minutes or hours, staring into each other’s heady gazes. His face seems to now be permanently tainted a dark flustered blue, though his eyes hold nothing but bare admiration and affection – a look you’d previously thought him incapable of possessing. You're sure you must look similar.

“I–”

“You don't need to speak–”

“No,” he replies firmly, hand grasping yours against his cheek, nose digging into the softness of your palm tenderly, “I must apologize for the situation I put you in. I had no right to make that decision for you. Even if it all turned out alright in the end.”

“It is the way of the gods, is it not?” You answer dismissively, looking off to the side once the reality of who you’re speaking to crashes down on you. 

Just how different from them can he really be?

You completely miss the dejected look on his face.

[alilobsessive]

Chips in my pocket and bloodstains on my hands

The Squid game prompt by @jellyfishmoon97 has been eating away at my mind since I read it, so I made this! Enjoy! Also I have never watched Squid Games all a know from it is from osmosis back when it first came out and now.

You’ve tried so many things before this, even calling your father. The bastard hung up on you before you could even explain. Admittedly you did a poor job at it, but you had never once asked for anything from him before. Couldn’t he have just listened, but now you’re here, risking your life to save the person you love the most. The only person left in your hate filled life that matters, your son. Even if you die trying.

Tw: Unspecified terminal illness, child abandonment, spousal abandonment, violence, death, murder, minor character death, reader intentionally kills several people.

——————

You tap your foot nervously, anxiety chewing away at your very core, the phone buzzes once “come on, come on” you mumble chewing on your finger. Your face is flushed from a combination of tears and the cold, this is the last person you wanted to talk to buzz twice. But you need it, need him to answer, it’s life or death, you can’t take out any more loans, you’re going bankrupt, buzz thrice. You need him to pick up, you need to save- click “what do you want” the familiar voice says, cold and unfeeling. You haven’t talked to him in years, if you had it your way you never would. But you need his help “I-“ you choke up, you’ve practiced what to say repeatedly. But actually saying it is a completely different story, telling this man ‘my son is dying, I need money to afford his treatment’ is a lot harder than you thought it would be. “Well?” He says impatient, panic seizes through your body “I need money” you spit out and then instantly cringe. You could have definitely explained that better, it’s quite on his end so you quickly add “It’s for my-“ he cuts you off. “Of course this is what you would call me for” “what-“ “you’re just like your mother” you’re stomach drops. “NO WAIT IT'S FOR MY-“ he hangs up “… son” you stand there.

Your phone is still held up to your ear as everything finally hits you. Fear, sorrow, dread, anger, helplessness, your grip on your phone tightness, your body rigid, tears blurring your vision. You throw your phone to the ground with a loud “FUCK!” It bounces then skids on the floor, cracks forming on it. You crouch in this dirty alleyway sobbing uncontrollably. Body shaking, you can’t do it, you failed, you’re useless, your son is going to die and it’s all your fault.

You met your Wife or well ex Wife before you even left Wayne Manor, the two of you didn’t go to the same school but you hung out at the same places. The two of you had a whirlwind romance, not the smartest idea but it just felt right. You never felt more at peace with another person in your entire life. They’re your soulmate, still are even after everything. You know it’s stupid, still loving someone even after they left you and your son, but no one said emotions made sense. The two of you moved in together, got married and eventually had your son. Cecil is your pride and joy, one of the best things to ever happen to you, but he was born sick. Very sick, his treatments are costly and regular, without which he would die. Neither of you could afford it, but you didn’t give up on him, couldn’t give up on him. Dispute the nagging voice in the back of your head saying it would be a mercy to just let him die. You just can’t, your Wife could though, she had already accepted the fact that your baby is as good as dead. That you can’t save them, not with your funds. It was a constant fight with her, intel one day, she just left.

You can’t blame her, no matter how much you want to, you just can’t. Maybe in another life you would have done the same. But not in this one, you would rather die than leave Cecil behind, not like your father did to you, not like your mother did to you. Not like what everyone in your life did to you, you never want Cecil to know that pain. Which is why you went into debt, which is why you took out loans, which is why you called that bastard of a man. The great Bruce Wayne, you’re father. Which is why you're crying on the ground, the next best step is to move out of your apartment. Then you won’t have to worry about rent and can just live out of your car. You already sold anything of value anyway and not like Cecil can leave the hospital at this rate. He might never be able to, but you don’t want to think about that.

You just sit there, sobbing your eyes out as someone approaches you. You quickly turn around and pull out a knife, this is Gotham after all. “Hold on!” The stranger in an expensive suit holding a briefcase says, “I have something for you” you look at him suspiciously as he puts down the briefcase. You expect a gun, for you to be shot right then and there. Instead he opens the briefcase and pulls out an envelope, one with your name on it. He hands it over and you stare at it suspiciously, it’s thick and heavy. Whatever is inside, there’s a lot of it. “Go on” he says, motioning for you to open it. Hesitantly you do, admitting expecting to be fear toxined or Joker gassed. But instead what’s inside is money, a lot of it, quickly counting it all it's just enough to pay for Cecil’s health care for another month. Just a month, but it’s more than you could ever dream off.

Looking up at the man, your eyes narrow, “what’s the catch?” He just smiles at you, a very familiar smile. A smile of someone being polite but is internally looking down on you. “No catch” he says then reaches back in and hands you a card “for this batch at least” that caught your attention. Taking the card you look at it confused, just a few shapes and a phone number. “I’m a representative of a game show” you look back up at him, “it was originally in Korea, but it’s been doing so well we’re expanding to America. You and contestants all over the country, all of which with financial difficulties will be playing several games to win 31 million dollars. If you agree that is” 31 million, 31 million that’s more then you were planning on asking Bruce for.

But dispute this, it’s still suspicious, they were clearly watching you for a long time, a very long time. Scoffing slightly you look away “this some villain type shit?” The man’s smile drops, you let out a quick laugh “oh? It is? What is this a killing game?” He doesn’t respond, “so it is, what villain set this up? It’s the Joker right? Sounds like something he would do, maybe the rider?” He shakes his head. “No one you would know, just call the number on the back if you want in” and with that the man left. 39 million, honestly you would prefer more, but beggars can’t be choosers. Busides, you would do anything for your son.

Even if that meant killing.

Tim really didn’t want to be here, but Bruce needed someone to infiltrate these games. He had on a stupid fucking gold and diamond encrusted animal mask and the most expensive suit he owned. This was a test of every fiber of his being, apparently for decades several members of the elite from the US to Europe would take trips to Korea. These trips where to watch an event called The Squid Games, named after the annual last competition of these games. The winners would get several million dollars, the losers death. All for the elites own twisted amusement, for six days they would watch as 456 players slowly die until only one person was left. It’s horrendous, disgusting and deeply upsetting that the organizers thought he would be into this. Who even told them he would be into this? Whatever at least this lets Batman take this whole thing down. Hopefully there spy inside the games comes back out safely.

As he took his seat he spotted several people, some were clearly from the court of owls. Which makes sense, this feels like their cup of tea. But another one, he could recognize even without the mask. The man made his stomach drop, it also explained how he got here. Ra’s Al-Ghul, the demon's head of course he would be into a game like this or at the very least invite Tim here to fuck with him. Said man approached Tim, clearly recognizing him to, “it’s a pleasure to see you here” “I can’t say the same” Ra’s just hums at this. “The show's about to start” is all the man says, going over to his seat, right next to Tim’s. He wants to kill this man so bad, but he can’t. Whatever, Tim’s gaze is on the large screen, he can hear the voices of an announcer presenting and explaining things to the audience and contestants.

You were ready, prepared for blood to be on your hands, to die by the hands of others. The arrangements were made so that if you didn’t return in a week’s time you would be reported missing. You hoped your Wife would be informed, that they would learn of your passing and take care of Cecil or pull the plug. But if not you made it so he would go to your next of kin, dispute what you desire. He is the man listed on your birth certificate. Although you would prefer none of those options to go down in a winner take all game like this your chances of winning are 1/459. But because of this weather you live or die, you win. What you weren’t prepared for was it not being a killing game. Well everyone else was acting like it wasn’t, so either they haven’t realized it is or they're all psychopaths. Then again you are completely cool with killing any of them at this moment. So what that says about any of you is up for debate.

“Hay cutie!” A tall woman says as she approaches you in the waiting area. You glance over at number 123, your stance is rigid, back straight, you are ready for anything. She clearly isn’t, dispute the pure confidence she exudes. No one here is, there all mingling and talking to each other. If this was a normal game show you would be doing the same, but intel proven otherwise, this isn’t a normal game show. “What’s someone like you doing in a place like this” “I’m married” is your response, sure you had to sell your ring and sure they left you. But no divorce papers were signed, so legally and emotionally you’re still married. They instantly back off “oh shit- sorry, I’m Daphne by the way” 123 says holding out a hand. You rigidly shake it, it’s far too early to determine if making ally’s is a good idea, but you would rather not have enemies. “You didn’t answer my question by the way” she says putting a hand on her hip. You sigh “Listen, you seem nice, you really do, but I'm not here to make friends.” “Sooo, medical bills?” You glance away from her “my son’s” “aww” she coo’s looking excited. “What is he like?” You resist the urge to tell her every little detail about him. For his curl to the mole on the top left of his forehead to his favorite color, he looks so much like your wife, nothing like you, nothing like your father and you love it. “He’s 4” is all you say to her. Even as she starts pestering you for more details.

Thankfully you're free from the red hard women, is constant pestering. Only to be placed next to a short man with black straight black hair, 376 smiles at you, just as friendly as the other contestants. “I overheard your conversation with Daphne! You don’t look like the family man type” you just stare at him, “I’m here for gambling debt actually, I know, I know. Oh he’s a gambling addict, he’s probably going to spend all his winnings! Heard that a million times over!” You start to tone him out as he talks about his life story. Only for 421, 176 and 321 to join in the conversation, or well up until then a one sided conversation.

The first game is simple red light green light, it shouldn’t be too hard. Then again they might want to trim the crowd as much as possible in the first game. You wonder what the most people to be killed in the first round is. But that’s not important right now, what is moving to the next round. You all run and freeze as soon as the giant creepy statue turns around. Well almost all of you, someone doesn’t stop in time, and is instantly shot dead. There it is, the kicker, several people scatter in a panic. But not you, you don’t move, standing perfectly still, you’re expression stone cold as the people around you drop like flies. Then the machine turns around again, you instantly start running. Everyone left standing finally gets it, finally realized, this is a death game. You run, you freeze, you run again, people die around you, so many people. Finally you make it to the end, just barely missing the robot’s eyes.

“THE FIRST PERSON TO PASS THE FINISH LINE IS NUMBER 7!”

Tim stares in horror, “is that?” “Oh? Are you curious about number 7?” One of the organizers asks Tim, seeing his curiosity. They then pull up their file, their older siblings file, he hears them say your name “Greenwood” the last name is different. But that’s unmistakably you, “there in 1.3 million dollars in debt, filed for bankruptcy the day before they left for the games. Most of it is going to medical bills to pay for their son Cecil Greenwood’s medical bills.” Tim just stares. He feels sick, he never liked them, no one in the family did. Their mother’s a traitor who can’t even be bothered to take her own spawn with her when she robed Bruce. But that didn’t mean he wished for this to happen to them, he didn’t want them to go into so much debt they needed to do this. He was aware they called Bruce not that long ago, was it about this? Did he even know? Bruce looked angry afterwards, sure he disowned them all but legally. But would he really abandon them when they needed him most? Would he? God, he hoped they caught all of that from his wire and camera.

Bruce felt his blood run cold, replaying the conversation from that day over and over again in his mind. He was sitting in his office, the anxiety of the case eating at his mind. This was something kept tightlipped even in high society, you also had been trying to call him for the past hour. It was starting to piss him off, what in god's name could you of all people want. Finally he answered the phone “what do you want” “I-“ you paused, hesitating. “Well?” He said impatiently, he wanted to get this over with, wanted to continue pretending that you and your mother never existed. A mother who he lived so dearly, who he was engaged too, who he was willing to give up being Batman for. Who one day took seven million dollars and ran, leaving him with a broken heart and a 3 month old baby. “I need money” you finally say, and Bruce saw red. He thought he raised you better than that, sure you still ran, abandoned the family. But asking him for money? After what your mother did? “It’s for my-“ but he didn’t want to hear your excuses, you being just as greedy as her. “Of course this is what you would call me for” “what-“ “you’re just like your mother” “NO WAIT IT'S FOR MY-“ and then he hung up. Yes after the call he regretted comparing you to your mother. That was cruel of him, he will admit, he knows you like her just about as much as he does and being compared to her must hurt. But he didn’t want to apologize, didn’t want to admit he was in the wrong.

If he had called back had listened to you when you needed help. He has a grandson, a grandson and he’s sick. He could help but he- he can help- he will help “Dick” Nightwing turns to look at him “me?” “Oracle and Tim are too busy to look into them, the others are taking on less important cases, so it’s your job.” Dick sighs, but looks equally as shaken up as Bruce feels. He quickly starts typing into that batcomputer, Bruce wants to punch a wall. To go in there and take the operation down this instant, but it’s far too early for that. If they go in too soon they’ll lose everything, but too late… he doesn’t want to think about it.

206 people, that’s how many are left, two hundred and six people. That a little over half of the people killed, everyone is shaken up, everyone but you. One of the people walks up at you and grabs your shirt. “YOU KNEW!” 423 screams in your face shaking you, all you do is stare down at him. What you want to do is cry but you don’t, weakness in a game like this will get you killed. “YOU ARE SO CALM! YOU KNEW! ARE YOU IN ON IT!” “Calm down” you say slowly, quickly grabbing 423’s wrist. “CALM DOWN!” “I thought the nature of this game was obvious.” Is all you say. “OBVIOUS!” Another person screams, “of course, then again I am from Gotham, stuff like this is normal” “BITCH IM FROM BLÜDHAVEN!” Another screams, more people are getting angry, and closer to you. So, this is how you die, but before things can get violent a shot is hard. One of the guards shot at the ceiling, “ATTENTION EVERYONE” the scream standing to attention. “WE WILL NOW BE DOING A VOTE! MAJORITY RULES!” Two buttons emerge from the ground, one red, one green with a screen at the front lighting up to show the same thing with the number 0 on each side. “GREEN MEANS THE GAMES CONTINUE RED MEANS THEY STOP! EACH OF YOU WILL LINE UP IN NUMERICAL ORDER!” The two of you are quickly separated and your lead to the front of the line.

You're the highest number alive, the first choice is yours, it’s a no brainer. “WHAT THE FUCK!” One of them screams and you sigh “WHY WOULD YOU WANT TO CONTINUE THIS” you look at the crowd and glare. “I don’t want this money for me” you begin, “It’s for my son, so he can live, so he can be safe, so he can know joy, I’m willing to die for that. I’ve accepted this, I’m ready to die here for the slim chance that he can be safe. I’m willing to die for the people I love, so they get to live a better life. I don’t give a shit about what happens to the rest of you!” You huff walking over to your bunk and sitting down, you watch as one after another each person walks up and presses the button. The air is tense as it goes, red, red, red, green, red, red, green, green over and over. Until finally, finally the number shows up, Green 105 Red 101, the games continue.

Tim feels sick, in a sense it’s almost honorable how willing you are to die for your son. A type of honor, loyalty he never expected from you, but it’s awful how willing you are to throw yours and others lives away just for a slim possibility of his safety. With that, with the collective despair of the crowd the feed ends. He just stares at we’re you were on screen, sitting there calm and collected. A stoic visage that only Bruce can rival. You almost looked like him throughout the whole thing. The chatter of all those around him felt sickening, they were enjoying it, putting bets on who dies. He wants to throw up, even with all his training, even with the job’s he’s done, this is sickening.

The hospital is okay, it isn’t the best in the city but it’s not the worst. It didn’t take long for Dick to find this place, once he got ahold of your credit records he found that most of your money for the past 4 years was sent here. Bruce can’t help but feel it should be better, but with what they could find this is the best you could do. Even that might not have lasted long “Hi! Welcome to Gotham General Children’s Hospital!” The woman at the desk says then her face drops. “Mr. Wayne! What are you-“ “I’m here to visit Cecil Greenwood” she continues to look at him shocked and confused, “he’s my grandson” “he’s your..” the woman looks like she’s still calculating what he’s saying. “Okay.. you just need to sign in” the security here is shit, he signed in quickly and didn’t even need to prove he was telling the truth.

Dick is already investigating your apartment, looking for anything. They already have every person that’s in the game listed as a missing person, you included. “Why are you here sir?” The nurse asks, he sighs “their parent was reported missing and they can’t get ahold of the kids' mother. So I was called as the next of kin.” The woman licks her teeth clearly concerned. “Did you know about him?” Bruce shakes his head “not until earlier today” he hasn’t lied once in this conversation. “I see.. well.. it’s a lot” she says and then begins leading him to the room.

She lightly knocks on the door “Cecil, honey, you have a visitor” and then she opens it. There sitting on the bed, covered in wires and a ventilator is a small child, much too small to be 4 years old. He blinks up at them with tired brown eyes, and a mop of curly black hair on his head. A small hand rubs his eyes clearly having been taken a nap, “hee?” The kid blinks, squinting at him. “I’ll leave you two alone” the nurse says and then leaves, awful security. Then again, even removing one thing will instantly alert the staff. Cecil still looks at him confused “Hey kiddo” he says softly pulling up a chair and sitting down. The kid just stares “who are you?” He says each word slowly and deliberately. He smiles at him “I’m your Grandpa” it feels weird saying that, not wrong, just strange. The kid just continues to stare at him “you’re a lot younger than I expected” is all he says, Bruce chuckles at that “oh?” He nods. “Baba says you might come next week” the boy says seriously, that makes Bruce concerned. Is he? Did they? That’s something to look into later.

“Did they now?” “Ya! Baba go brrr!” He says happily, “what?” “Brrrrrr!” He claps his hands and giggles. Clearly making a joke only he can understand, “I see, you saw your baba earlier then?” “Ya ya!” He continues to clap. “Yesterday! Baba says you come if mama can’t! Do you know we’re mama is?” Cecil asks his smile not leavening, Bruce in fact does know. An apartment in Metropolis, a nice place with two bedrooms, a safe neighborhood, far away from the both of you. Like father like child it seems, the both of you sure know how to pick them. But he doesn’t want to tell the kid that “no” is all he says, the kid just starts. He expects a temper tantrum, but instead all he gets is an “okay!” As he happily flaps his arms around. “It’s okay! Baba doesn’t know either! But we got pictures!” He says happily, “oh you do?” He then drops his arms, smile slightly falling “I mean no, not on me, but they exist!” Bruce hmms. This is going to be a very long conversation. For Bruce at least, kid seems to be having a good time.

Dick stepped into the apartment building, there’s nothing much of note to it. It’s not run down, but there's nothing overly nice about it. He found your apartment with ease, he didn’t even need to pick the lock. He just pushed the door open and it went swinging, that instantly told him a completely different story. The apartment looked long abandoned, there was no peace of furniture to be seen, large amounts of dust already caked over every surface. The only exception being boxes that when he checked were filled with pillows, blankets, clothes and photos of you, your son and your wife. Sometimes all three, other times just two of you. A photo that was taken from your wedding day, a day they never got to see, from Cecil’s birth, to just you and your wife being together, even photos of just your wife. All printed, framed and stuffed away in the boxes.

Sure, it made sense to start packing things away and preparing to leave if you didn’t think you were going to come back. But the apartment has been like this for several months now, more a storage space than a home. He can only imagine what’s been going on in your brain all this time. As he was mulling this over a voice called out “HAY YOU! What are you doing?” Dick turned and saw a short balding man in his late 50’s. He looked at Dick suspiciously, he fully turns to look at the man “I’m looking for my younger sibling, they live here, but well..” he motions towards the everything in your house. “You’re related to the Green kid?” He asked crossing his arms, “yes, they haven’t been responding to any of my calls the last few days. I was getting worried so I came here to check on them.” The man just shrugs, which would be completely unhelpful under normal circumstances. “Sorry man, can’t help you there ever since the Mrs. left they're barely here. If they are it’s only for a few hours. Honestly why they still live here is a mystery to me.” Then they just leave, great complete unhelpful with him trying to understand more about you. Just great, now he’s going to have to talk to more people.

Day two starts with a meal, you sit by yourself, the mood having completely changed. They get it now everyone is on edge, everyone is like you. Well almost everyone, 376 walks up to and sits down next to you. You barely glance at him, continuing to quietly eat your meal “this shit looks like something they would serve at high school!” He says playfully elbowing you. It does? Hu, you thought she was just exaggerating, perks of going to the private school in the city. God you miss your wife, will you ever see her again? Hear her laugh, see her smile, the dimples on her cheeks, the way her hand felt in yours, how she beat a man half to death for making fun of you. 376 is staring at you, was he talking to you? Did he ask you something? “I miss my wife Tails” you say looking at him “what-“ you then turn back to your food “I miss her a lot” you then take a bite of bread. He looks away awkwardly, and then back at you “you uuu, are really passionate about winning” “yes, let me guess you voted to end this?” “Yes” “well” you pat him on his back, “every man for themselves” and going back to eating.

Only to discover it was a team game, fuck. A simple game of capture the flag, the losing team is killed, completely not playing, you're killed. Seriously, is the Joker involved in this? Whatever, you roll up the sleeves of your tracksuit and put on your team's colored bandanna it’s time to get this started. A part of you felt bad seeing 376 on the other side, it’s a shame he has to die. A shame any of them have to die.

Tim watched what quickly devolved into a bloody battle, anxiety turning in his gut. He did his best to watch every movement you made in the crowd. Several people on both sides having been killed by other players, both by accident and on purpose. He watched as you stabbed a man’s eyes out with your own fingers before leaving him there, joining several of your own teammates in infiltrating the enemy lines. It wasn’t you who got the flag to the other side, he wanted to scream when he heard the game was over. So focus on you he didn’t see who won, only for it to turn into instant relief as he saw it was your team that reached victory. Then horror as each member of the losing team, even those that had switched bandannas with the dead was taken, lined up, blindfolded with their own bandanna and shot in the head. One by one, as the winning team was made to watch. So concerned with your own safety he didn’t even check which team their spy was on.

“What” Jason began “the fuck” Stephane looked at the screen in horror, even after the video had long gone dark. Of course as vigilantes everyone in the Bat’s and Bird’s had seen bloodshed, had seen civilians mob. But something about this felt different, maybe it was the elites, gossiping and putting bets on the civilians forced into this game. A type of dehumanizing Tim was clearly blocking out in favor of making sure you were safe. Maybe it was the fact that their own members were in this danger. But whatever it was, it felt wrong “we need to do something now” Jason says turning to Bruce. He shakes his head “we can’t” “BULLSHIT” “Jason!” Bruce almost glares at his son. “We don’t have enough information, we don’t even know we’re the civilian’s are being held right now. If we rush in we could lose all of them, every single one” Jason glares at him and scoffs looking away. Stephane puts a hand on his shoulder and gently squeezes it, looking just as uncomfortable with this situation that he feels.

You don’t sleep a wink that night, you’ve never done that before. It felt wrong, so very wrong, you can still feel the squelch of number 217 ‘s green eyes on your thumbs. One of the people who didn’t like you after the events of the previous nights wanted to get rid of you during the free for all. You could barely call any of that a team game. No one was working together, just trying to live and steal. The third day you were dead tired, 376 wasn’t there, would never be there. Now that you think about it, you never learned his name. Adrenaline was the only thing preventing you from passing out. At least you think that’s what’s happening, it feels like a blur, everything does. But this is all for Cecil, if not then why are you here? What was the point of all of this? Was there ever a point? Maybe you should just kill yourself- no Cecil needs to live. That’s the whole point of your existence up until now, making sure your baby is happy and as healthy as he can be.

This is for Cecil

When the group is being brought to a new location a hand touches your shoulder, you quickly turn around and see 123. Looking at her shocked and confused you say “you’re alive??” The woman just blinks at you. “Yes, yes I am” she says looking confused “you thought I died?” “Yes” is all you say, the two of you just continue to stare at each other, awkwardly. Seriously, what are you supposed to say to this woman? “Okay” you give her a thumbs up and a pat on the arm, “good talk” then turn away. You can still feel her eyes staring into your back, what is this woman’s deal?? She’s starting to freak you out. Don’t cry, don’t cry, don’t cry!

The guards lead you all to a different area, this place vastly different then the warehouse the rest seemed to be in. Aka they literally took you outside in the dark for some reason, once again they split you into two albeit uneven groups. You being with the smallest of the groups, very confused as you’re handed a knife, every member of your group is. 423 who is still alive and with your group looks at the guards, “what’s preventing us from attacking you with these?” The guard cocks the gun and points it at his face. He instantly backs off, “Today everyone!” A guard calls out, “The game will be playing is Man Hunt!” Oh shit.

Tim stares at the screen eyes wide, “oh shit” he wanted to leave right now, to go in there and stop this. “Each of are 10 contestants here” he motioned to the group you’re a part of, “will have 30 minutes to hunt and kill three other contestants of their choice! Of course the other contestants have the ability to fight back and kill the hunters! It’s not a fun game if they're completely helpless! If they fail to complete such a simple task, well… you all already know what’s going to happen.” They say cheerily. “Well” Ra’s the mother fucker, says clearly intrigued. “I’m sure this is going to be an interesting game” please, please Bruce, B please find them. Don’t let them become a murderer.

This is for Cecil, this is for Cecil, this is for Cecil, this is for Cecil, that’s all that’s going through your head as you watch the head start the others are given. This is what you thought the games would be, everyone killing each other for the amusement of whoever’s watching. Kinda like the hunger games, but in reality no matter how much you prepared to take a life, doing so was much harder. If you kept telling yourself why you’re here, why you’re doing what you’re doing, will it be easier? Hopefully it will, because that’s all you have most days, hope. “Excuse me?” One of the other contestants asks “can hunters kill other hunters” . The guards looked at each other and then one of them called someone. By the end of it the guard turned to look at them, “I don’t see why not” you had a bad feeling about this.

Tim gripped the arm of his seat as he watched the hunters run off. Please B, please, suddenly he got a ping on his hidden earpiece and Oracle’s voice rings through it “I found the location”

“FUCK” another Hunter screams falling to the ground, you watch as he curls up into a ball and sobs. “I can’t do this- I can’t- I don’t-“ a part of you finds it pathetic how willing they are to give up like this. But another part of you gets it, you don’t want to kill either. If this was you when you were younger, before you had Cecil, before you met your wife, you would be doing the exact same thing as him. But that’s not you, the person willing to sit and wait for someone to save you. Not anymore, there’s really only one thing you can do. You stab him in the neck, his eyes widen and blood sprays covering your hands. A gross feeling coils in your stomach, but you have to press on. You’re putting him out of his misery, if he didn’t participate he was going to die either way. Better he die contributing to your own survival then in vain.

You pull the knife out and watch it fall to the ground with a thunk, bloods everywhere, on the ground, on your hands, running down his neck. With a shaky breath you turn around and continue in your hunt. The cold wind sends chills through your body and quickly cooling the blood. Wading through the grass and bushes, careful and quiet. It was admittedly difficult, having no idea how to deal with forests. In fact you didn’t find your next target, they found you. Well technically it was 423, seriously what’s this guys deal? Sure he wasn’t the person who asked, but he seems dead set on killing you. For some god forsaken reason.

He didn’t even give you a chance to speak instantly lunging for you. Dodging out of the way, all that happened was the knife grazing your skin. Leaving a bleeding slash against your shoulder, grunting you spin around and stab them in the back, pulling the knife out. The two of you quickly start exchanging blows, both from your knifes and your own hands. Finally you’re able to kick him to the ground and stab him in the chest, he coughs and grunts in pain. “How do you sleep at night?” he coughs out “let me guess, next to your wife?” Blood trickles down his lips, you don’t dignify him with a response. “Holy shit-“ he practically laughs out “she left you didn’t she? Serves you right you cold hearted bitch-“ you stab him again, this time in the heart and with no remorse. Standing up and kicking the corpse you grunt a little, stumbling slightly. Time for number three.

Signal and several members of the Justice League kick down the door. Tim turns to face them with a smile on his face as he waves, the others around him panic, except Ra’s. Like he knew what was coming, seriously what’s this guy's deal. “Glad to see you could make it!” He calls out, “you-“ one of the Owl members began, “you're a spy?!” He gives them a finger gun, “guilty!” He then stands up and turns to Signal as a mass arrest begins. “Now, are we going next?”

Continuing your hunt something felt wrong, maybe you’re running out of time? No that can’t be, they’ve been regularly calling out the time since this started. Something changed, something you’re not aware of. “7” you whip your head around and point your knife towards the voice. There is 123, why do people keep approaching you? Why is she approaching you? She’s a part of the prey group, unless she thinks she can take you, which scary. But then again not that hard, “you seem confused” “ya no shit, why did you approach me?” She takes a step forward. “How many people have you already killed?” Is all she asks, you tilt your head watching her for any sudden moments. “2” then you lunge at her, only to swiftly be kicked down and pinned on your stomach. The knife is thrown away from you and she pins your hands behind your back. You’re not even mad, it’s a part of the rules. It’s upsetting, this is how you die, but you already accepted you might die in these games.

Quietly waiting for death, you are rudely interrupted from your fate by the true reason you felt uneasy. Mother fucking Batman appears in front of you, cape bellowing as he does. “Starfire” he nods in greeting, “Batman” 123 says, nodding back, holy shit she’s Starfire, holy shit you tried to kill Starfire. Why is Starfire here??? “Get off of them” she stands up, “I’ll go find the others!” And is off. You scramble to stand up, almost tripping as you do so. “We’re going home” “what?” Is all you can say, you’re body shaking, “this operation-“ “you knew?” You’re voice is weak, hands balling into fists. “We’ve been planning this raid since the game-“ “YOU KNEW!” You scream, tears falling down your eyes. “I KILLED PEOPLE BRUCE! I KILLED AND HURT PEOPLE IN THIS GAME FOR WHAT!” He slowly approaches you. “FOR NOTHING! BECAUSE YOU WERE GOING TO SHOW UP AND STOP ALL THIS” he opens his mouth “NO- SHUT UP DON’T SPEAK!” He’s standing in front of you now. Taking your fists you punch him and n the chest over and over “I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU! I HATE YOU!” Again and again you punch and scream. Intel eventually you can’t anymore “I hate you… I hate you!” You’re body, so exhausted from everything that’s happened finally gives out. You feel like a child as he grabs your collapsing form, it’s humiliating. “I hate you!” You choke out, “let’s go home” is all he says, like you’re nothing more then a toddler throwing a temper tantrum. With a shaky breath and sob your picked up “we’re Cecil?” “I moved him to the best hospital in the city yesterday, don’t worry” you sniffle “I want to see him” “soon” is all he says. You give him one last weak punch before everything goes black.

——————

Reader towards their wife: Once we’re undoomed from the narrative the marriage is BACK ON!

There was another version of this fic we’re Dick finds are Wife and then the two go on a road trip to save Reader’s sorry ass. It ends with both of them at the manor in Reader’s old room. There’s also another version of this fic we’re both reader and wife are in the games. Sadly neither of them came to fruition. Maybe if I make a sequel it will be more Wife focused, because god do I love that woman.

Bruce: you’re wife left you like your mother left me

Reader:

Reader: >:(

Bruce: This is supposed to be a bonding moment, why are you attacking me?

[littlefireling]

I just saw a TikTok saying, “I am a Nesta hater. There’s no universe where I would have ever treated my sibling the way she did. Her behavior was selfish and self destructive. She shouldn’t be forgiven.” (Paraphrasing)

Sighhhh. There’s so much I could say about this, but I’ll keep it short.

Some argue that you need to have been in Nesta’s position before to understand her. While that can help, there are still a lot of things Nesta has done that I wouldn’t. But that doesn’t make her an evil character—or me any better than her. I feel like so many people say “I would never” and act like that makes them so much better.

Everyone processes trauma differently, and while that doesn’t excuse Nesta’s actions, it’s unfair to dismiss her perspective by immediately jumping to, “Well, if it were me—” It’s not you. Comparing her behavior to what you think you would have done shuts down any effort to understand her. You can empathize with someone without condoning their actions.

But what I really want to talk about is forgiveness because there is such a lack of it in a lot of Nesta haters.

Yes, Nesta was wrong many times, but she acknowledged her mistakes and wanted to change. None of us are perfect. We all make mistakes we regret, and while we can’t change the past, we can work to be better. Nesta did—and continues to do—that every day.

People say, “Your trauma is not your fault, but how you respond to it is.” True. Nesta admitted she was wrong and worked hard to show she was changing, and is continuously working to be better. What more can she do?

"But when she told Feyre about the baby it was for all the wrong reasons." True. But growth is messy. She isn't going to be better overnight. She is going to make mistakes but it’s important that she acknowledged what she did was wrong right away. And she was so sorry for what she did.

We’ve all been a Nesta on some scale before: we’ve been hurt, acted out, and regretted it. Maybe not to family but to someone. Sometimes we do it without even realizing. Yes it’s wrong to take your pain out on others but if it’s already happened you can’t change the past. What matters from that point on is taking accountability, showing you’re sorry, working to stop from repeating the same behavior, and hoping for forgiveness.

If you think Nesta is irredeemable, maybe it’s not her that lacks humanity—it’s your ability to empathize and forgive.

[maidenimage]

First of all, I'm so sorry for what happened to you. No, what someone did to you. It's reprehensible and wrong and I wish I could take it away from everyone who has experienced something like that.

Second, I appreciate you sharing this with all of us. I can't imagine it was easy, and it's even harder when we're struggling to understand our own emotions and where they're coming from and why.

I recognize a lot of your internal conflicts in my own. I had the same experience with JKR and the IP -- it meant a lot to me growing up, but it was so easy for me to cut ties with it in the face of her transphobia. But like you, I don't feel the same compulsion to cut myself off from the Good Omens IP or its fandom or community. I struggled at first, but it didn't take me long to unpack and understand why the two situations are different.

Supporting JKR and her IP isn't just a matter of whether or not she directly benefits from it, monetarily. Keeping her relevant, through cosplay, through art, through fanfiction, through independent artists on Etsy or at conventions, through film and game adaptations, all of it -- it keeps her relevant to book publishers, game developers, media distributors, etc. She continues to leverage her fame, her platform, her audience to make more content, more IPs, more revenue streams, and people keep letting her -- because there's no such thing as bad publicity. She has garnered a HUGE following of transphobic supporters who love how vocal she is with her transphobia, and will continue to boost her harmful rhetoric and support her projects. This makes her lucrative. Regardless of the controversy, if she makes a company money, they will publish her book, turn her IP into a game, program the film adaptations of her books during the holidays and every other time of the year. Supporting the IP whether you support JKR or not is still making her a hefty profit, and it continues to perpetuate harmful stereotypes and ideas against the queer community.

But more than just that -- and compounded by that -- the money that she continues to make from all the attention is going directly to lobbying for policy that hurts trans people. I'll say that again. If you still engage with HP in ANY public way, you are funneling money directly into policies that can permanently harm trans people. This is why it is SO important for us to disengage. Because the more JKR tweets, the more she gets attention, articles written about her, followers on her platforms, etc, the more money she makes -- and the more she's able to lobby for these policies.

There's also the fact that JKR's seven-part IP is full of the anti-Semitic, anti-women, racist, and queerphobic values that she herself holds. So supporting the IP is still excusing those parts of it.

With Good Omens, none of this is the case.

When the allegations against NG first surfaced last July, he immediately disappeared. From all of his social media (where he had been very visible and received a lot of positive attention), from the press, from everything. He stopped doing events, he didn't promote any of his work. Nobody did. In fact, all of his projects in development in the way of film and television adaptations were halted, shut down, or altogether canceled.

To be clear, NG's disappearance from the public eye does not make him a better person than JKR. Whether he did it out of shame or a desire to avoid backlash, it doesn't really matter. The reality is, the scandal didn't make him more popular the way it did with JKR. It didn't drive more attention toward his properties, it didn't accelerate his financial gain. It did the opposite.

Furthermore, NG has been publicly and financially castrated from Good Omens. He's been removed as writer, executive producer, and his production company has been removed as well. He is no longer profiting off of the series finale. And he did so in order for the project to see its end in honor of Terry Pratchett, who people often forget or ignore was also responsible for authoring the IP.

Again, this is in no way a defense of NG, it's not meant to humanize him, nor is it absolution for his crimes. My point is simply that continuing to engage with Good Omens doesn't have the same social impact as with JKR's IP. There's no financial benefit to NG for the success of the show. He doesn't use the scandal and take any previous profits and lobby for policies that harm women. He doesn't get on social media and encourage people to go out and SA people, he doesn't espouse harmful rhetoric about how great SA is. If he did any of this, I'd drop Good Omens like a hot rock.

But simply, the two situations are not the same. So please don't feel bad about still loving the show, or the book, or continuing to engage with the community. You deserve to heal however you need to. If that means clinging to Good Omens more than before, then cling, baby, cling. It doesn't mean that you don't support the victims who have come forward. It doesn't make a single impact on their lives. What does make an impact is how vocal we have been in renouncing our support of NG, and how we've used the fandom to rally together to raise money for charitable causes that help victims of SA. And if anyone tries to tell you differently or make you feel bad about it, they can fuck right the hell off.

Anyway, I leave you all with what I hope with be a cathartic anthem for victims of SA everywhere.

Kill 'em dead, kill 'em dead (x2) F**kin' bodies in the hallway Kill 'em dead, kill 'em dead (x2) I got rage with it Kill 'em dead, kill 'em dead (x2) Run, you can run, but you can't hide

Don't let anyone steal your peace. Stay strong.

I want to talk about Neil Gaiman from the perspective of a survivor of SA.

I am a trans/ gender fluid person, a survivor of R*pe, and a diehard Good Omens fan. And I have been struggling to cope with and process the horrific things that Neil Gaiman has done. I don’t get a lot of engagement from the Good Omens fandom. I’m mostly a lurker here, TikTok, Twitter, and BlueSky and AO3. But I feel like I need to say something, and Im saying it here so I can share without a character limit. And then I’m going to take a break for a while because my mental health can’t handle the chaos anymore.

I read the Vulture article and I was of course horrified and disgusted and repulsed. The things he did to those women made me absolutely sick. But I’ll tell you what, as a survivor, I have been way more triggered by the online reaction to these allegations than I ever expected to be.

I am struggling, because while I unquestioningly stand with his victims and hope they get the full weight of justice they deserve, I am grieving. I am not reacting the way I would have expected myself to react to this news, and I haven’t since July when the story first broke. I would have expected to react the same way I did when JK Rowling exposed her horrific transphobia. I took a pretty hardline stance that any engagement with Harry Potter, even through fandom and etsy purchases, kept her relevant and sent the message that you too were transphobic. As a gender queer person, I now have an extremely hard time enjoying Harry Potter anymore even thought it was overwhelmingly influential on my life. I would not have met my husband without HP!

So why don’t I feel the same way about Good Omens? I am a victim of R*pe, myself, so why haven’t these allegations made it difficult to enjoy this story? In fact, all I want to do right now is actually watch the show! Or read the book, or fanfiction, or watch my favorite fan edits. I’m actually reaching out to it more. My instinct ever since July has been to clutch the story to my chest, white knuckled, and crying to myself in the shower, “No, no, no, no. Please, please, please. Not this. Not this too. Please don’t go.”

The answer is I don’t know. I… I don’t know why I’m reacting this way. It is something I will have to work through with my therapist for sure. And I feel absolutely horrible for it. But I do know that folks on Twitter and TikTok telling me that nobody cares about my feeling and saying that nothing matters at all except his victims has been extremely triggering - more so than any discussion of his acts. And I know that I will need a long time to work through it, and that I may never get over it.

I also know that two things can be true at once. We can be supportive of his victims and understand that what Neil Gaiman’s fans are going through is ALSO a collective trauma that deserves time and space to process. Because he violated us too. He violated our trust and our perceptions of reality, and that is much more traumatic than people give it credit for. Demanding that his fans just give up the stories and communities that may have been the only thing keeping some of these people alive at one point completely cold turkey is cruel and heartless. Some people may be able to do that. They may be able to not care for a while and may even need that. People deserve time and grace to grieve and come to terms with what is going on in their own ways.

I know that some of these folks mean well, but the argument that nobody cares about fans feelings is not looking at the whole picture and feels like just a way to discredit and belittle fandoms in a new way. Because this is NOT breaking news! This story originally broke back in July, and the fandom rallied behind his victims en mass! They have recently raised thousands of dollars to donate to Take Back The Night, which is amazing! This most recent article and fandom meltdown is just rehashing everything that we said last summer. So my then questions are:

When CAN we grieve? When CAN we talk about how we are feeling? When CAN we reach out to our community and collectively heal from the trauma that we are facing as well? And not fear that some self righteous ass hole on the internet is going to bully them for not being a good enough feminist. And do NOT sit there on your performative high horse and tell us that what we are going through is not as bad as R*pe. We fucking know that. I certainly fucking know that. But it is still bad, and it does deserve recognition too. It is extremely unhealthy to pretend that this news is not also a noteworthy trauma to his fans. And gaslighting them by telling them that their heartbreak and grief is problematic is just fucking mean.

Neil’s fans deserve grace and compassion too.

[femmejournal]

Hi! Can I have a seperate headcanons for Soshiro, Gen and Reno (romantic) + Kafka (Platonic) with a female reader?

The boys noticed their s/o was getting close towards Kafka and quite jealous but when s/o told them she saw Kafka as a father figure. What would the boys + Kafka react to this?

YOO this is so cute lol. Also first request woohoo thank you!!

Shoshiro Hoshina

At first he's like, "huh. That's weird" when you're hanging out with Kafka a lot. He didn't think you two would click.

I think he's the least likely of the three to be jealous, tbh. He's pretty mature where it matters and wouldn't mind your friendship. It's when Kafka seems enamored by you that he gets... territorial. Not jealous, though.

Wouldn't outright tell Kafka to fuck off because he likes the guy, but would start being more publicly affectionate superior officers be damned

When you ask what his deal is, because yes, you noticed him glaring Kafka down at one point, he explains and you laugh, which actually relieves his anxieties. He's good at reading people, but he's an expert on you, or he likes to think he is, and the fact that you're laughing makes him realize how silly he sounds. Kafka would never, and you don't see him that way at all.

When you compare Kafka to something like a dad, or at least a "dad friend," Soshiro laughs a little too loudly.

You tell Kafka and he's like, vaguely terrified of your boyfriend for a week or so lmao

Gen Narumi

Pissbaby

SORRY I love him but. He hates that you're spending time with Kafka and he is VOCAL about this. You even argue about it

"What, is that OLD GUY better than me, is that it?!" "HE'S ONLY 32, JACKASS, THAT'S NOT OLD" "OHHH SO THAT IS IT"

You don't talk for a few days, and you vent to Kafka, actually. He's like? "Wait, he's jealous of me?? LOL"

Kafka actually has to be the mediator between you two, because as much as Gen thinks about texting you a billion times during the few days you don't talk, he's a weiner and is afraid you're gonna break up with him. So Kafka texts him and explains what you told him

At first Gen is like "why's this BITCH who STOLE MY WOMAN texting me" but he doesn't hate Kafka so he reads it and goes "oh shit"

Shows up at your doorstep 15 minutes later with big ol sad eyes. "Sorry 🥺"

You have a pretty long conversation then, about how you feel about him vs. Kafka. Needless to say, Gen is over the moon when you say you love him. Not anyone else.

Yeah this one ends in sex sorry lol IM NOT GONNA GET EXPLICIT THOUGH

Reno Ichikawa

You, Reno, and Kafka are all good friends, so it seems natural that you'd hang out with Kafka. At least, that's what Reno tells himself.

Until he realizes you two spend more time together than either of you do with him. Weird.

He immediately starts reeling. What if you liked Kafka better than him? Are you into older men? What if you are and you just didn't know that? Are you...maybe cheating on him? With his friend? No, no....but what if?

Why you worry so much, worry baby?

Doesn't address it right away. Tries giving the benefit of the doubt but eventually you notice that he seems sulky.

When he asks you about it, he's visibly teary eyed. He's usually so rational and level headed but the idea of you not wanting him anymore AND betraying his trust in one go makes him crazy.

You're really sad, too, that he thinks you'd do that. You comfort him and tell him that Kafka is like a dad or an older brother. When you say it, he realizes that it checks out in the way you interact with him and gets real embarrassed.

You have to reassure him twice that day lol

Kafka, in this situation, is a little offended. "Why would you think I'd steal your girl" kinda thing. But he's also...flattered? That Reno thought he was good enough for you, i guess. They probably argue about it a little.

[fallloverfic]

Finished the second season of Castlevania: Nocturne and loved it! Spoilers below.

Angry boi PROTEC HIS MAN!!!! Just his running to Mizrak, so worried. Even interrupted his revenge. I just love that his serpent form came back T-T And multiple times!!!

The fight scenes were so good!!! Just so many amazing ones!

ALSO WHAT DOES ADRIAN MEAN NOT THE FIRST TIME YOU SAVED MY LIFE???? I AM-!!!!

(So happy they know each other and I think it's hilarious my fic could potentially be a prequel now alkdjalkdjaljdalj)

Everyone cute. Annette and Richter were just awww. Glad Edouard and Annette get to stay together, and Edouard can go home and get his bass player :3

Also so many gorgeous Adrian bits. Truly. Him coming out of the river was so mmmm. Also loved all the magic he got to use XD And the music was fun!

Also loved all the Egyptian stuff. The soul count was a little... (I was like why are you saying just 2 or 3, there's more than that...?), but apparently the # of parts has changed over time (it's not just 4 or 5) and it's you know, vampires during the French Revolution, so sure, whatever. The trip to Duat was fun! And Ammit's form was pretty cool.

Poor Tera. Bye Emmanuel, no one misses you.

Loved that we got some dragon fighting. Also that the dragon didn't die. Was worried. Though I will say, Sekhmet punching it was kind of funny aldkjlaj I felt sort of bad when Juste, Richter, and Maria were all boosting its breath like, "That can't be too comfortable for the dragon..."

Just think it's funny we have animated Robespierre joining forces with the son of Dracula to defend Paris from a crazy Hungarian serial killer noble who believes she's the reincarnation of an ancient Egyptian goddess lol

The return of Drolta was really fun. I was sad she was in so relatively little of season 1. This was really great.

For historical things, I appreciate that they referenced how folks in France sold and bought food to watch executions. I also appreciate the reference to the trend of European obsession with eating mummies.

I will be thinking about Mizrox's future. I feel bad I'm mostly happy Olrox survived the season lol I like Mizrak just fine, and I like that Olrox likes him, but my priority is Olrox, not Mizrak, sorry lol Clearly they have some things to work out XD Should be fun (for someone, I hope). Someone else pointed out they never talked about the animal/soul stuff, and it was kind of just... Mizrak getting over it (or side-stepping it) and not apologizing to Olrox about it. And Olrox just... kind of accepting that the guy he's in love with is like this. I think it's funny that after having written You reluctant demon back in 2023, where they do have a conversation about it, I completely forgot it as a thing I wanted to happen lol Cause in my mind the matter is settled. Like the show, quite frankly, feels like neat fanfiction to me at this point (that's not what it is, but that's how my brain works, it's part of why I wasn't as anxious about season 2 releasing as I was for season 3 of the first series releasing). It's great in all the things it does, amazing stuff I never could have thought of, which is far better than a lot of the stuff I did in my fic (and those fight scenes, dang). But yeah, I do agree, they should have talked about it. And they don't. And it's... mm...

Another thing is that Mizrak maybe still has some racism to unpack. There's that line Olrox has about when his people were massacred by the Spanish, and Olrox says, "And our terrifying gods could do nothing to save us." And Mizrak replies, "Perhaps your gods were the problem," and it's like what the fuck Mizrak lol I don't know if it's part of his struggles with his own faith, which is very obviously happening, how if a god exists, they're allowing all this stuff to happen, that Emmanual failed so hard, and believing in a god - which is his issue - is causing so much of his issues (it's making him believe his affection for Olrox is false, that Olrox doesn't have a soul, and/or it's not saving him from what he believes is a wrong attraction, idk). Or, from a semi-logical standpoint, that Olrox's people were attacked because they weren't Christian, and that the Spanish wouldn't have attacked Olrox's people if they were Christian. Or simply that "well it's your fault for not being Christian", I have no idea. It's a weird moment. We have really not moved past the "animal" conversation all that much. Olrox is very, very forgiving. And I am way more forgiving because I forgot I resolved most of this in my fic over a year ago lol I don't know, relationships are messy, I enjoyed what I saw of them. Olrox running to Mizrak's side was a lot and I loved it. The way Olrox is like, "I thought you wanted to know" killed me.

ANYWAY though... it was a good season. Really, I liked it.

[wonderwafles]

The ending of Revenant is a weird thing to talk about as someone who's loved the Eliksni since I started playing Destiny in 2014, there for the first mention of the Kell of Kells and here to finally see the title bestowed. It's *really* weird to say that, after all that, I sort of really really hate how it ends

Revenant feels like the culmination of a trend in Bungie's writing that's been percolating since Splicer, which I snidely call the "uwuification of the Eliksni" or more helpfully might just be called a "flattening." What I always found most interesting about the Eliksni was the merge of the tragedy of their lost homeworld combined with the desperate, inexcusable violence they inflicted on humanity. Their most prominent characters were deeply complicated people, from Variks who allied with us only to eventually unleash the Scorn, to Eramis, who wanted to create a new home for her people but got lost in vengeance and hate. They were Fallen, but they could rise.

Splicer is the beginning of doing away with this in favor of the Eliksni being primarily victims of humanity. The unease the human residents felt towards the House of Light wasn't due to, say, generational memories of Eliksni invading and burning almost all of human civilization to the ground, or first hand memories of Twilight Gap when they almost succeeded in doing that to the Last City, but rather... knee-jerk racism. Lakshmi, as the figurehead of that movement, was purely villainized despite it being revealed that she was there when the Eliksni first arrived and saw the horrors they inflicted, and ultimately she isn't even given the dignity of her own motivations — instead, she's been corrupted by Savathûn.

Eramis turns from a dangerous ideologue who is destroying her own people in pursuit of vengeance to a justifiably aggrieved revolutionary, calling humanity out on their "oppression" of her House of invaders, pirates, and colonizers. No human is allowed to point out that she came from Riis to kill them. No House Salvation member is even allowed to be angry with her for unleashing the Vex onto them. It's hard not to conclude that the game completely forgot who she was in pursuit of forcing her into this new role.

It'd be one thing if this new story was better than the old one, but frankly, I really don't think so. Eramis and Variks both have their complexities filed away to nothing, and the motivations of the Eliksni as a whole become nonsensical. The House of Light's opportunity to be both a House of refugees and representatives of an invading race justly feared by the Last City is gone. Misraaks and Eido's roles as mediators between humans and Eliksni don't really matter because there's nothing to mediate; humans are bad and Eliksni are good. There's a lot of talk about the two species putting aside their differences to build a better future... but what differences? What differences specifically? Space racism was ended when Savathûn's magic went away, and obviously a long war of annihilation is really the fault of the people defending themselves from annihilation.

Eramis getting the Echo was sort of the culmination of all of this; she hasn't learned anything or changed since she opened the Vex portals on Europa, or even since she invaded Earth in the first place. But the new lore is that she doesn't need to; she was always in the right. How tiresome. How boring. How anticlimactic.

[psychodon525]

Reading comprehension lmao

Did I, at any point in my post say "I don't enjoy it" or "I hate it"? No. I said "it's bad," and "it's not good." But I also said "I recommend it."

I go back and relisten to it all the time, but in a different way than "good" podcasts. Because it isn't one! And because I go into this worse podcast with a mindset that it's bad and flawed, I'm able to enjoy it a lot more. It's just three goofy guys playing DND with their dad, and that's fun! And it's also not what people are usually looking for in a DND Podcast.

It was a ton of people's first DND Podcast, so they went into it with no expectations, and loved it, and then it got better and they kept loving it. Then most people started listening to other, better DND podcasts, and when they try to relisten to TAZ, they're like "wait this is bad," and drop it.

They're right about it being bad, but that doesn't mean they have to drop it. There's good to be found after the bad, and there's still joy and enjoyment to be gotten out of the bad as well.

We as a collective whole, need to start being able to say "it's bad, and I love it." Accepting that the thing is bad is a part of loving it. Loving the things that make it bad, too.

And it's a part of recommending it to others. Some of the best tv shows of all time have really rough first episodes or first seasons, and it's important to acknowledge that when recommending it to people. It's literally okay if someone wants to skip the bad parts and just get to the good stuff. A plot synopsis of the first 23 episodes of TAZ would genuinely be more enjoyable for a lot of people than the over 24 full hours of podcast that they'd have to slog through to get there. And those several hours of bad podcast can still be good and enjoyable to some people. It's a matter of taste, and you can still enjoy the bad thing.

Anyways TAZ Balance is one of my favourite podcasts of all time, and I genuinely love it so much. Not despite its flaws, but because of them. It's a bad podcast, which is part of why I love it so much, but I'm mindful of that fact when recommending it to people.

was TAZ Balance really good or was it just your first DnD podcast

[gotham-daydreams]

Hello, I really don't know if you are still alive or not with your series or with your account in general but I hope you are well and I must admit that I am absorbing everything you publish because your writing is very good and I am absolutely fascinated with it in "Not [ ]", I didn't really realize the impact it had on me when I read the part where Dick and "we" "confront" each other in some way, even though I felt great anger and pain at the unfairness and It was so blatant about the way Dick tried to justify himself (especially the part where he says we could have tried "another way") but it just gave me the vibe of just wanting to end it all with a big hug and that's it but re-reading it recently really now YES it makes me completely angry and not just sad for that fool 😡, I fell in love with absolutely everything, Bruce's part, the way Albert practically manipulated everything, it's just great and maybe I can relate quite with the reader not so much in the musical sense, more artistic but it's still great, I wonder if something would change if the reader turned out to be trans (because I'm a trans boy lol) and it just completely changed his appearance or what he now has a scar or mark on his face (because guess again, I have it too 😭) from an accident or something and he just looks VERY different after leaving his shitty family even so I'm glad the reader is neutral on regarding gender and everything...it's just perfect, I'm really sorry if all this is too long! I really don't usually comment but I think you deserve a message like this and once again, I hope you are doing well!

Note: I really hope you don't mind that it's so long and I'm sorry if something seems strange, English is not my first language and I'm using Google's shitty translator 😭

I don't mind the length at all!! And thanks so much for sharing your thoughts! I'm glad it impacted you so much, and that you enjoyed the chapter as much as you did!

Honestly, I don't see much changing if the reader was trans aside from the family getting hit with a lot more guilt because, well, not only did you feel as if you couldn't come out to them (and maybe in that instance you could've tried), but didn't. No matter how it goes, they lost and missed out such another big part of what makes you, you - and that crushes them. The changes to your appearance and whole identity would be so glaringly obviously by the time they find you, and I know Dick would genuinely get so much more emotional.

The argument before hand would also be worse, as if your ftm then yeah, Dick would probably end up going as he is better with his words generally and also because of the reasons stated in the chapter - which is really just pure coincidence. Though, if reader was mtf then Stephanie would most likely end up going (I love Cass, but I sort of explained what she'd do in another post of she went instead, so...). Non binary? Then they'd just take that gamble again, and it'd play out like the chapter just with some changes and such again.

Nevertheless, seeing your appearance changed so much would and is definitely bound to make someone cry because it's a physical and very real evidence of how much they have missed. Not to mention all the struggle they weren't there for, none of the help or reassurance they were able to give you, and so on.

Any obvious scars would have the same affect in terms of guilt, but honestly, besides Bruce, most of them are honestly more pissed. Barbara and Stephanie are acceptions to this as of Chapter 2 and them not really seeing the reader in Chapter 3, but that still leaves well over half of the family angry.

Honestly, it would maybe even make Dick more indirectly insensitive as he would ask questions about it - and depending on what is said and when.... well, there may be less people in Gotham afterwards. As long as it's from someone else, the fact if its an accident or not won't stop the most impulsive members of the family - and a good bit of them are. Though if you did it yourself on accident or something... the start of Chapter 4 would be worse, and the treatment in Chapter 5 for sure.

Regardless, thanks for sending in an ask, and I hope you're doing good as well! No need to worry about the English or anything, I understood what you meant just fine - but if there is something I misunderstood, then please let me know!

[fxckn-sxck-fr]

Plsplsplsplspskspsls do that dc hyper sexual reader but with more dom reader I will owe you my life 😭😭🙏🙏🫡🫡

𝐃𝐂 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐃𝐎𝐌 𝐇𝐘𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐔𝐀𝐋 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑…

!!! 18+ THEMES, GN reader, masochistic themes, Clark has a breeding kink fosho, bratty behaviors, daddy/mommy kink mentioned, Jaime getting trapped in a sexually toxic relationship, obligatory freaky Tim warning.

HEEEHEEEHEEEEEEEE. Lowkey, this was actually a really interesting thought exercise. I think I learned today that I view (most of) my DC men as doms while (most of) my Marvel men are submissive and breedable. Dick’s part was especially hard for me because he’s my comfort dom… if that makes sense. But I think I pulled through with a little bit of imagination. Had lots of fun with this!

Again, this is operating under the assumption that you’ll at least let them help you out when you need it. Like… even if you absolutely hate their guts, you’ll at least call a truce when you need it. A necessary evil kind of thing.

Bruce Wayne: Definitely has a love-hate relationship with your hypersexuality. The chances of him getting his work done have plummeted to, like, -3,000% when there’s a spike in your sex drive. But, you know, that’s not for a lack of trying; Bruce is a stubborn man, and despite his focus rapidly devolving from how good you’re making him feel, he’ll still try to remain productive. It’s actually kind of cute to see his eyes cross while he rereads some random document over and over again. Hey, here’s a tip: want to get yan Bruce in the mood? Smack him around a bit. This man will instantly fold and let you do whatever the hell you want until you’re satisfied. This is honestly a good thing to know about subby yan Bruce in general, just so you can maintain control.

Clark Kent: My certified house-husband hunk. He loves when he gets home from work and you pounce on him like a hungry lion. If darling pookie pie needs to release some sexual frustrations, he’ll instantly drop to his knees and get to work. Take him however the hell you want, as long as he can stare at you with that same dopey grin he always gets when he’s near you. Really good at following orders. Can’t disobey you if he tried. Now, even if you aren’t fully accepting of his love, y’all already know his delusional ass thinks you’re finally madly in love with him. Why else would you have your hands all over him? You obviously want to marry him now! This man would get pregnant for you if he had the means to. I’m a breeding kink Clark truther, so… breed that man.

Dick Grayson: Bro is a certified brat. He’ll play mind games with you, wearing certain clothes and touching you ever so slightly, just to get you riled up enough so you finally fuck him. Whenever he’s horny, you bet your ass he’s taking advantage of your heightened sexuality, and might honestly be subtle about it enough so you never realize you’re falling into his trap. Yes, he’s playing you like a fiddle, but does it really matter when he’s the one whimpering in the end? Yeah, didn’t think so. Count your blessing, y’all. Don’t worry, he’ll still let you hit even if he didn’t wake up in the mood. Just the thought of you yearning for him is enough to get him bricked up (what a perfectly pathetic man). You better fucking cuddle with him afterwards. That’s not up for negotiation.

Hal Jordan: Horny bottom bitch Hal Jordan, save me. Save me, horny sub Hal Jordan. Bro is desperate for you. He’ll do anything to get your attention, and if that means acting like the biggest brat known to man, then so be it. You’ll probably have to punish him so often. Does he ever learn? No. But, hey, it’s worth a shot. His inherent neediness will do your hypersexuality no favors. Y’all gonna be fucking like rabbits 24/7. Sorry not sorry. And if I say sub Hal Jordan has a daddy/mommy kink— PUT YOUR GUNS DOWN. LET ME TALK. He’s definitely gonna be calling you that shit in public. Doesn’t matter who’s around, he likes letting other people know he’s yours. Still definitely a biter, so if you don’t like that, you’re gonna have to have a strong grip on his jaw or throat while y’all go at it. Just some friendly advice!

Harvey Dent: Poor Two Face does not want anything to do with you and Harvey’s sex life. He’d be absolutely appalled by the idea of you turning Harvey into your little bitch. Harvey, on the other hand? I can definitely see him secretly yearning for someone to take control. Your heightened sexuality would probably be the escape he needs, so it totally works for him! Loves to get on his knees for you. Want him to go down on you for hours? Whatever you want! Insert meme about lawyer doing his work lying on his bed like a school girl here. And here you have Two Face muttering shit like, “dawg… have some dignity.” Shut that side of Dent up by grabbing his titties, you won’t regret it. If you think it’s weird that a notorious criminal will easily melt in the hands of his obsession, then you’ve clearly never been to Gotham.

Jaime Reyes: MY PUPPY. MY SWEET LITTLE PUPPY. Even if sex-stuff makes him nervous, he’s so eager to please you. The thought of you actually needing him makes him want to cry… he might be a freak with a murderous Jiminy Cricket attached to his spine, but at least he can be of some use to you!! Expect him to form an unhealthy relationship with sex. Because it’s the only time he feels truly desired, he’ll let you do whatever the fuck you want to him, even if it means losing his own sense of agency. I’d say it couples nicely with his uphill battle against Khaji Da. Now there are two opposing sides vying for control over his brain: the crazy bug and his innate desire to belong to something (or someone). Play your cards right and you’ll reduce Jaime to nothing more than a dumb little puppy who just wants to please you!

Tim Drake: I basically already summed up this creep’s deal in the general version. I’m sorry, but no one can convince me Tim Drake has an ounce of dominance in his system. He’s just way too whiny and desperate to have any sexual control over his darling. Also, keep in mind that bro is 100% out freaking-you in the freak-off. Don’t you fucking dare feel ashamed about your hypersexuality because Tim is way worse than you could ever dream be. Did you accidentally slam his foot in a car door? Bricked up. Looked at him with a neutral expression? He’s about to bust. Pointed at something while you were talking? Please let him lick your fingers. He’s been a nasty girl, except nobody gonna match his freak. Good luck trying.

Wally West: Another example of a yandere who’s lowkey in control of your spikes in horniness, but you’re still the one calling the shots in the bedroom. Surprisingly kind of sweet? Like, you’d think he’d tease you about it, but here he is saying shit like, “it’s okay to touch me when you need it, you know.” Of course, this is him obviously pretending to be some sort of martyr when he’s inwardly over the fucking moon. I just want you to quickly imagine him gently taking your hand into his, giving it a chaste kiss and then planting it around his neck as he looks at you with hooded eyes. You know, for science. It’s very important to me that everyone knows how sensual he would be while he tries to convince you to fuck him silly. Totally normal behavior!

[artslovergirl]

[EXT. A CONVENIENCE STORE NEAR CAMPUS]

art and tashi

notes: based on the part in the screenplay where tashi asks art to try smoking with her because i love that scene. shoutout artashi.

wordcount: 0.8k

“You've never smoked before?” Art asked, his voice still a little hoarse from the coughing. Tashi shook her head. “No, have you?” “Yeah. But I mean, I don't think I did it right. To be honest, I don't think I’m doing it right right now, either.”

A wry chuckle escaped him. He doesn't think there’s a universe that exists where the scent of cigarettes doesn't remind him of Patrick.

But if this made Tashi feel better, it would be a bullet he’d be willing to bite.

Then again, wasn't saying that just him bathing in self-pity over a loss he caused?

Biting the bullet?

He felt ridiculous.

Especially when every time he looked at Tashi, he could hear the nauseating sound of her knee snapping out of place.

He was licking a self-inflicted wound while Tashi mourned the loss of what could be described as a piece of her soul. A piece of herself. It was visible in her eyes.

If he actually said any of this to Tashi, he’s pretty sure she’d punch him.

It would probably be warranted. Waxing poetry about the suffering of another in your head, pretending like you understood it, was pretty lame.

But he did want to understand. He did. He had found himself toiling over the scenario of whether or not he would swap places with Tashi many times. He likes to believe he would do it.

But he can't really tell if that’s just because he wanted to feel like a good person, or if he wanted to reinforce to himself how in love with Tashi Duncan he was. Or maybe how selfless he was.

Because deep down, he thinks, or maybe fears, he might actually be a really selfish person.

“When was the last time you smoked?” Tashi’s voice cuts through his string of thoughts. She took another inhale of smoke, she still coughed, but a little less now.

He wondered if she was reminded of him, too. He wondered if this was all some sorry attempt from the both of them at filling a place that stood empty now.

“Oh, like..when I was 14..uh, with..you know..” He cleared his throat, looking into the distance.

“Jesus, Art, you can say his name. You think I'm gonna burst into tears at the sound of it?” Tashi’s voice had a certain cadence to it, one that was hard to describe.

She was almost making fun of him for taking such precautions, perhaps feeling insulted he would think her to be so weak, but there was a twinge of appreciation for his effort or rather support hidden underneath it all. Barely there, but he could hear it.

He smiled.

“Right, sorry.”

She let out a puff of air, shaking her head, almost rolling her eyes, but she was smiling, “You know, you apologize a lot for things that don’t actually matter.”

His lips twitched to the side, his smile no longer reaching his eyes. It wasn't pleasant to hear, but mostly because he knew it was true.

It felt like he lived in fear of messing up the smallest things, leaving a bad impression, but what he feared even more than that was making a genuine apology.

He didn't know why. It wasn't like he didn't feel guilt. He definitely did. Punishing himself just seemed easier than dealing with the punishment that an apology might bring with.

“You're right.” He tried to take another pull of the cigarette. It burned. Not in a pleasant way, not in a bad way. Not in the way it had when he was 14. Not in the way it had with Patrick.

“For what it's worth, I am sorry. About..everything. Mostly that lunch. Mostly for..acting like I knew what you wanted. Or like I was what you needed.”

He was staring at the asphalt now, his brows furrowed a little. Somehow, apologizing now had been easier than anticipated. It only happened months ago, but it felt like years. It felt like the statute of limitations for punishment had long since gone by. It felt like none of them were the same people they were a few months ago.

Like the people that they were in that hotel room in Flushing were unrecognisable.

She let out a quiet laugh that sounded a little like a scoff. “You know what? I forgive you. What you did was shitty, like really, really shitty-”

“I know.”

“But um, yeah, you know what..I do need you. Here, right now. I need you to be my friend.”

He nodded.

I think you might be the worst friend in the world, Art.

He could feel the words echo around in his skull, reverberating like a church bell.

It could become his fatal flaw, but Art knew at that moment that he wanted to be whatever she needed him to be.

“Okay. I’m here for you.” He exhaled another haze of smoke. It burned a little less.

“Ugh, god, this tastes terrible. Smoking sucks, why do people do it?” Tashi complained, yet she didn’t stub out her cigarette. The flickering neon light of the convenience store sign reflected in her eyes.

“I don't know, I think I’m kind of getting it.” Art grinned, peering at her from the side.

[mrsdickey]

shitty sketch and a yap sesh

feel free to skip. i usually dont rant abt things, but when i do, i get kind of uppity about it. it is long, i just wanna get my feelings out yk. im probably gonna b taking a small break, as a result of my uncomfort on the internet right now and i just. dont know what to draw lol.

ok cracks knuckles loudly ahemmmm

im feeling uncomfortable,

sorry if i seem irrational in this. i just want to be heard.

i dont really know how to word this properly, but sometimes i feel like the love for these characters is a fucking competition.

i hate the idea that people will be like "**I** am bill/pete/jerry/josh's #1 fan!!!!!! nobody else!!!!" im sorry, it just pushes me away from the fandom. and to see people worrying about having to be shit on for having female OC's in the club really pisses me off. gatekeeping isn't it.

i know every fandom is like this. its annoying as hell and i know better to just not post my feelings like this, and to just ignore them, but it makes me hellllllla uncomfortable. it makes me wanna hide.

im genuinely so attached to bill that it's really fucking with me. he's my main comfort, as ridiculous as it sounds. im very mentally ill and lonely, and bill is kind of my "escape" from my stressful life. sometimes it makes me cry, to see myself implode like the fucking titan sub all for a goddamn fictional character. all i think about is him, it's like a fucking parasite eating at my already fucking rotten brain. work? bill. home? bill. hanging with my family? bill. literally everything else? bill. and seeing people wanting to assert themselves as the MAIN fan of that character just gives me the fucking ick. as much as i looooove bill to the point of literal crying fits, im never gonna call myself his biggest fan. (sometimes i call myself his fave but that's more of an in-universe headcanon thing rather than a "he loves ME more!!" thing shhhhb)

anyways, i dont want the love and appreciation for these characters to be a competition. but i have the feeling that it is. and it makes me really sad. this isn't what dorkin wanted.

i know i always stress "no doubles" when it comes to my selfshipping with bill. and i still do...but its kinda ridiculous to assert yourself as THEE #1 fan of a character, and then shoving it into peoples' faces. it feels gross.

i hate hate hate hate hateeee posting about this kind of shit, i wanna keep my account positive, but i genuinely feel like i needed to air out my negative feelings for once in my fucking life.

i am sorry if this is problematic and aggressive. i have strong feelings about these sorts of things. i know none of this matters in real life to some people. but in my boring, lonely ass life, it does matter to me. a whole fucking lot.

i really, REALLY love the eltingville club. but sometimes i feel like its own fandom is what it's criticizing. that's not to say **everyone** in this fandom is like this, i KNOW not all of us are like this. and i really appreciate the people calling this shit out.

with that, i hope i can still continue to post about the eltingville club and not worry about being unworthy.

and to my small circle regulars, who like even my yumeship posts, thank you. i really appreciate you guys. and im sorry if i dont interact with you guys as much as i should.

anyways erm!! i might delete this, but for now, im probably gonna hide for a bit gaahaha you can find me on discord sob

""i aint reading allat sorry that happened or congratulations"" headass lmao