#tw sock puppet

[daily-bipper-brainrot]

what did one sock puppet say to the other sock puppet? :]

[dunmertitty]

wasn’t red katherine the same bitch that drew her witchsona boiling trans kids in a cauldron? yasssss #feminist slayyyy 🙄

[ladiemars]

can we.... see a photo of adam du mortain sock puppet?🙏 for clown scientific purposes only

i’m gonna put it under a "keep reading" button because the adam sock puppet has psychologically destroyed everyone who’s bore witness to it like some kind of biblical angel

whatever you think it’s going to look like, i promise it’s worse

[askbaldomore]

Behind the Sock: The secret of Arts and Crafters.

[opossumvalleywv]

The Aftershow

Look I get that Lionel is the older one of those funny Starstruck brothers.. But at this rate he'll be the freakin' biggest of 'em too, sheesh!!

[sickness-stricken]

Lily trying to not make another sock puppet account with a persona that revolves around incest:

this one bother me. 1. Nooblord is an open incest fetishist who, i believe, has talked before about having an actual crush on her own mother. why do you all think she's not showing the full message? she's actively hiding that from the public. a part of me understand because this person might be the only one that LO can talk about their incest fetishes without ever worrying about being judged. that alone would be fine... if LO wasn't, like said already, actively pretending that is not a thing. 2. "beating the shit out of a pregnant woman" is how LO is choosing to characterize when Courtney was attacked by a woman drugged in meth outside of a homeless shelter, so he had no choice but to defend himself. not to mention the fact that LO only knows about that because Courtney talked about that incident. so if we're meant to believe Courtney about this instance unquestionably, then why shouldn't we believe him either when he said that LO threatened a pregnant teacher with a knife and later tried to push said pregnant teacher down the stairs? if you're going to weaponize pro life rethoric to scare monger about how Courtney did that, guess what, LO? people can do the same thing for you using the exact same source. if Courtney is saying the truth about her own fight, why not about that too? i know that LO would love to only believe whatever thing makes Courtney look bad without question, because DARVO works like that, but that doesn't mean the rest of the world has to. 3. the incident LO is talking about is Courtney repeating the sexual games that both his sibling taught him to do, as a kid, on another kid, before realizing that it was wrong and stopping out of his own volition. so when LO repeats the words "Courtey molested a kid", do not forget that she's blaming a traumatized child for having a extremely common response to that trauma because lack of awareness rather than any real malice or intention. oh, and don't forget either that LO blames even the creation of the SU video in her having trauma responses to her "abusive relationship" as a full grown adult. she fully expect you to not hold anything she did back then against her. but when Courtney, a child, does something wrong, then it becomes evil and there is no excuse for that. 4. i need to emphasize this because it must not be forgotten: LO is saying all of this to defend an incest fetishist.

[cmkren]

— do you yield?

; gregory house x gn! Reader

Unsurprisingly, a night out between House and Wilson doesn’t end up uneventful. Tensions were strung in a-- stranger way, now with Amber in the picture. One of House's grand schemes goes sideways when the person he provokes ends up punching him right in the face. In an attempt to get Wilson in trouble (due to the whole curfew agreement), House got ahead of himself and now Wilson dumps him onto someone else rather than face the wrath of his girlfriend.

And of course, no one’s ever happy to see House on their doorstep.

a/n; sorta just ! Self-indulgent!! This fic leans towards sub bottom house roles, no sex just sloppily making out. Written in 3rd person, they/them for reader! Honestly not too proud of this, but I wanted to get this out 😓

tws!! Suggestive, minor blood play (like incredibly minor), and house bein house — 4.5k words

The plan had been going smoothly. Drinks were going down quickly for Wilson, lord only knows how stressed he had been to be downing alcohol like it was water, and thankfully for House he recalled scoring over God a couple years ago. Meaning he knew what had been haunting Wilson's always-ready-to-please mind.

The connection that Amber had been so similar to House had already been scrounged up, and even House would be lying if that made him think just a little too. Oh, nothing crazy maybe just the fact that if he'd been a woman, Wilson might have been all over him. Her?

The details didn't matter.

What did matter though, was his loss of control over the situation. House didn't know what he had been thinking. No one had been paying them much attention, and his goal was to just get Wilson drunk. Only Wilson. He supposed that he thought he needed to convince his friend to keep drinking? Maybe that's why House started drinking too. And maybe that's why he started picking fights with strangers.

It started off as passing remarks he made to Wilson, the infamous smug smirk that showed how he thought himself omniscient in a sense. That he was so sure he could read people like a book. To a certain degree, that was true. How else was he capable of coming up with schemes that would puppet the parties involved for his own benefit?

Eventually though, passing remarks would eventually turn into what seemed like heckling. No wonder he ended up getting socked right square in the face by a patron. House was always self-sabotaging, but sabotaging his own plans to sabotage Wilson's relationship with Amber? Now that was a little ridiculous.

Didn't change the fact that it happened though.

"Oh-- come on House, I can't bring you back to my place and you know it." Wilson's voice had some strain in it, one of his arms hooked around his friend's (questionable title given to the likes of House) waist as he led him to his car. "Especially not since you started this... this meaningless war." He muttered, the hesitance in his voice to say meaningless suggested that maybe he didn't think it was entirely meaningless. Perhaps a hint to the fact that he did find amusement in it. Hell, maybe even enjoyed it for a bit.

House was disoriented. Not by liquor, but by the fact that he had blood gushing out of his nose and perhaps even a bit of a broken nose at that. "She's got you on a leash, Wilson." He swallowed, wetting his dried mouth. "If I say I'm sorry for leaving you at the pound and give you a treat, will you come running back to me?" He spoke with a certain monotonous that always indicated that he was just being a dick. Everyone's heard it enough to recognize it.

On the other hand Wilson decided to ignore that remark and start tapping away on his phone. Scrolling through contacts in an attempt to make some sort of solution for this mess. “I’m handing you off to someone else House. Whether you like it or not—” he swung open the car door to the passenger seat, muttering a few ‘careful’s as he lowered the man into the seat. Impaired judgement kept him from stopping the bloody nose first, and instead opting to do it when he got into the driver’s seat first.

”Are you dialling Thirteen?” House tilted his head forwards, just letting his head hang before Wilson shoved a bundle of tissues against his face. In turn he winced and complained ‘oww!’ dramatically. “Better be Thirteen.” His voice all muffled by the tissues.

Little did he know, it was the nurse that worked under a couple of his former ducklings.

House usually didn’t care for the other staff around the hospital, but he cared when he thought he could squeeze out some information out of some. That’s what he’d done to them. But not only did they refuse to sell out their fellow coworkers, they had also exacted revenge on him not too long ago. They didn’t necessarily win but they also didn’t lose.

What they were capable of doing, was bruising his ego.

After that, the two just kept interacting. The rivalry the two shared was almost akin to a friendship, but neither of them would admit to such a thing. After all, they hated each other’s guts.

There was a mutual respect there though, hidden somewhere. Wilson liked to think that at least. He would mention it or make a comment about it to House but of course he was always met with a response like—

“Tomato, To-mah-to. Only respect they ever receive from me is purely superficial. Happy to see them go, even happier when they turn around and I get to watch them leave.”

Wilson had rolled his eyes then, taking it as another one of those jerky comments House made to be a dick for the fun of it. The longer he had let it marinate though, and the tone shift at the time, perhaps it had an underlying meaning to it. Or he could just be giving him the benefit of the doubt. Again.

The car engine roared to life when Wilson inserted his car key, his other hand pressing his phone to his ear as he gave his friend one singular glance to make sure he wasn’t doing something stupid. He wasn’t. Just popping some more pills.

”Wilson it’s—” a voice picked up. They paused, as if looking off to the side.

”It’s 10 pm. This is well after office hours.” They spoke with a certain exhaustion in their tone. Expected, to be fair. They were all employees of a hospital, hard to keep up a good amount of energy when you’re running around the place all the time. Especially a nurse.

”Listen, I know this is a big request but,” he put his hand on the steering wheel, grunting when House would knock the butt of his cane against his forearm, “House— you’re going to cause us to crash!”

“House? He’s with you?” They sounded surprised at first before it all melted away, “Oh, who am I kidding, of course he’s with you.” The tone of their voice simply went from quizzical to bemused really quick. “I’m not doing anything for that bastard— this is too big a favour to ask of me Wilson.” Their indignation to aiding him in whatever he was about to ask didn’t keep Wilson from having his foot on the gas pedal though. He was convinced he was going to have them agreeing by the time they get there. If they don’t agree well… too bad they were going to show up to their house anyways.

As the conversation continued out on the phone, it didn’t take long for House himself to realize who had been called to their rescue. It made him scoff in amusement, “oh yeah smart move Wilson. Get stick-up-their-ass to keep me from bleeding out at their place that’ll work out!” He raised his voice loud enough that he knew he’d be audible through the phone.

Wilson furrowed his brows, his mouth agape for a second as he struggled to formulate a sentence but they cut him off before he could.

”Bleeding out? What the hell were you guys doing?” The concern was real but they eventually sputtered and tried to backpedal, “you know we’re not close enough for me to be covering whatever illegal activities you guys are doing!” Which was reasonable reaction, honestly.

“No— no— nothing illegal!” Wilson opposed, having to fight the urge to just knock his head against his steering wheel. God, it was like having two children in each ear yelling at him. House was talking about something but so were they. It just became a garbled mess. Not to mention the fact that he was still driving.

”I warned you. We’re on our way.” In the end, Wilson stood his ground. Pocketing his phone, he would keep his eyes straightforward on the road.

__________________________________________

“You’re lucky to have a friend like Wilson.” They murmured, lips pulled taut as they dabbed a cotton swab around the other’s nasal area. It was reddened with blood, bits of it dark from it already coagulating and drying out. House remained still, for the most part. Pale blue eyes staring right at them, not necessarily happy about this situation either. He wasn’t even tipsy anymore, just sober and in pain.

To be fair though, that was kind of regular day to day for him.

House’s eyes looked down briefly, flexing his fingers. “Yeah? Well friends like Wilson end up dumping you to get butchered up on a chopping block.” Then he wiggled, “or I suppose on a kitchen counter.” Not even an amused noise from them. Just the knitting of brows as they were wary of his squirming to make his point.

They were firm with him, as many would have to be with House. A hand holding his face steady, thumb and index holding his chin so they could tilt his head if needed. House was surprisingly cooperative.

”Well good for you,” they paused their actions, giving him an obvious look over, “nobody actually likes old meat. Too tough, too chewy.” They scoffed, before going back to dabbing the bloody areas of his face. Unfortunately, he’d also gotten a busted lip. It wasn’t drastic but it was most definitely going to take more than just a couple weeks to fully recover from it.

House had his neck craned up, brows furrowed a little as he stared up at the ceiling. His eyes would shift downwards, looking to his begrudging caretaker. They had their lips pursed, their eyes a bit sunken from a long day.

He took the time to look at them though. Oversized band shirt over a pair of shorts. If he craned his head to the side just a bit, he could see that their shirt had hiked up just a little. Resting right above the small of their back, making it so that the front draped down but their ass visible.

His obnoxious ogling was cut short when he felt a dull pain, hissing as he felt just a little too much pressure being applied on his wound.

“I’m doing this for free already. If you want more, you’re gonna have to pay.” They muttered, voice thick with sarcasm.

House let sucked in a breath, “is this about the hookers? Just because I support sex work doesn’t mean I’ll let you drain me dry of my money! You’re not even a hooker.” He winced again, but not because they pressed too hard again. It was more a culmination of his leg and the busted up face situation.

For a brief moment, their eyes softened. They paused for a moment, pulling away and putting down the cotton pad they had held in their hand.

”Your Vicodin?” They questioned, as if expecting him to already be reaching for any sort of pill bottle. House gave a frown, not even really trying to feel himself to find said pill bottle.

He clicked his tongue, “must have dropped it back at the bar. Maybe Prince Charming will find it and return it to me and we’ll live happily ever after.” Actually, he was pretty sure if he ever came face to face with the guy again, he was going to end up with a black eye next.

They rolled their eyes. “I’ll get you something. Hold this.” They then passes him a bag of frozen… strawberries. Huh. Then they left the room, going to fetch something.

”Don’t even bother,” he held the frozen strawberries, and instead of using it as intended he opens the bag and pops one in his mouth, “it’s not going to even work.” His face contorted when the frozen fruit touched his tongue.

He supposed that was effective too. Brainfreeze. Maybe once or twice.

”I’ll just go on and skedaddle as soon as I can. Say, where are your car keys? A question of curiosity.” He called out, already turning his head to look about. When they popped their head back into the room they held what seemed to be clothes and a bottle of pills.

”You’re not getting my keys House.” They huffed, before walking back to him. The grown man sitting on their kitchen island with his legs dangling off the side, shirt bloodied and smelling of a rank bar.

This exchange caused him to raise a brow.

Not necessarily because they wouldn’t give him their car keys. But the fact that they held a change of clothes for him. Either they were just feeling generous, pitied him, or… they had actually planned for him to stay the night.

”Are you trying to get into my pants? You know, there’s different ways to do that—”

”Yes I want to have sex with you.”

The two stared at each other. His mouth agape as if he was going to speak, but they cut him off.

”No, House,” they gave an exasperated sigh, pinching the bridge of their nose. “I’m not trying to have sex with you.” They dropped the clothes right next to him, “you just smell like dog food and shit.”

Then they showed him the bottle they brought with them.

”Ibuprofen? That shit doesn’t do anything!” House reached out for it, though his tone spoke of a child who had maybe received fish sticks instead of his preferred mozzarella sticks.

At his complaint, they clenched their jaw. “Either take some or I’m going to shove them down your throat.” That made him give a faux look of offence, “and you work at the hospital! I’m surprised Cuddy hasn’t canned you yet.” Though the look they gave him made him finally unscrew the cap.

They took a moment to watch him take a couple, before walking aside. “Go take that shower. I’m not taking you anywhere, but honestly,” they turned to give him a look, “I wouldn’t stop you from wandering out.”

House recognized that their first instinct might have actually been to care. Hence the actual attempt at cleaning up his mess. Even giving him clothes and letting him take a shower. But he also knew that their history wouldn’t allow them to just will themselves to be happy around his presence.

That’s why, as a fuck you towards them and Wilson, he was going to stay. Prove Wilson wrong by pissing them off they just have to go yell at Wilson tomorrow morning.

__________________________________________

The bright light of the TV flickered, colours danced along the surface of his gruff face as he sat on the couch. He made himself comfortable in their home, meaning he made a mess of the living room. It was almost midnight now. They told him off earlier, but after him not budging the slightest, they just slinked away into their room.

He knew they were still awake though.

It was that stupid pirate cartoon. Only played at night! When else was he supposed to watch it?

“House.”

He looked over, a clueless expression on his face as he then looked to his wristwatch, “is it early morning already? Wait, nope. Go back to sleep.” He made a dismissive gesture with his hand, as if shoo’ing them away. From their own living room.

The look on their face wasn’t even exasperation or frustration. They just looked done. They walked over, stepping in front of the television screen with their arms crossed. “Turn it off, you need rest.”

He tried to look around them at first, but it was all but futile! He groaned, “get out of the way. You really going to stand there the entire time?” The irritation in his voice didn’t necessarily match the glint in his eye. Amusement, perhaps even a hint of a challenge in them.

They squinted their eyes at him.

It was always that. The look in his eyes that presented a challenge that was supposed to push people away. Yet for people as stupid as those who willingly stuck around House, it did the opposite. Before their own experiences, they always thought it strange for Wilson or hell, even Cuddy to entertain him. Because for a lack of a better word, that was exactly what they do.

Now that they’ve been in a similar position, they understand why.

“Does it turn you on to be such a dick? Surely you’re getting some sort of sick gratification from what you do.” They sneered, approaching him and his smug son of a bitch face. He stared, like he always did, before turning his head and sticking out his lip a little ‘in thought’.

Then he gave a shake of his head, his expression dumb as he said, “my body says no but my mouth says yes.” Then taking a moment before furrowing his brow, “actually, pretty sure I mixed that up.” Just another one of his snarky remarks that made the recipient’s anger burn hotter. It wasn’t even good, the things he said sometimes. Not objectively.

Sometimes they were so stupid that it provided the same effect. The same results. And that was all House ever wanted— results.

Before they could get in another word though, House graciously interrupted them. “I’m not kidding. Step away.” He nudged his hand again, trying to wave them aside. His other? Rested on his thigh. Running along the problem site, up and down as if trying to soothe. Not that it ever worked.

“You didn’t take the ibuprofen.”

That seemed to strike a nerve. “No— I did. Would my incompetent nurse like to see me try again? It’ll only keep proving that I’m right.” He inhaled sharply, wincing. “It. Doesn’t. Work.”

At that, they finally took one step to the side. Allowing for the light of the TV to light him up again. He was sweating, just a little bit, on his head. If he was in so much pain wouldn’t he get up and go? Or was there something else he was trying to prove? Surely he didn’t hate them enough to endure his own pain to inflict pain upon them. Then again, that would be a House thing to do.

Silently, they sat beside him.

House scrunched up his nose, turning his head as he shifted, leaning further back against the plush of the couch. "That’s it?” He let out a shallow breath, turning ever-so-briefly to look at them. They didn’t return the gesture, just staring straight forward.

”That’s it.”

There was a quiet lull between the two, only the over exaggerated voices of the pirate and the princess audible in their space. Quiet wasn’t really House’s thing, though. He turned to them again, arm raised to rest against the back of the couch, “you’re just giving up? Just like that?”

Giving up?

They snorted. “I’m not giving up anything. You were the one with expectations.” Then they finally turned to meet his eyes, “I’m not in the mood for games, House. If you aren’t going to listen, then you aren’t going to listen.”

For some reason, he looked confused. “You don’t just give up. It’s the one thing that actually makes you interesting.” He spoke as if he was the one getting offended. Even if he wasn’t planning on it now, they couldn’t help but feel some anger bubbling up again. What did he want?

”Then you should fucking leave, shouldn’t you, Greg?” They hissed under their breath, trying to turn back to the meaningless cartoon.

Out of all the petty things they’ve argued about, this felt the most genuine. Over an… animated cartoon?

”No. I shouldn’t. You’re supposed to— to…” he paused, biting his tongue. As if the Gregory House was hesitating. When there was virtually no reaction from his uncharacteristic doubt, he grunted. “You’re supposed to fight back. Keep me here.”

A look of surprise crept up to their face. “What?” They blurted out, turning back around to see the man with his head down, eyes flickering up to get one glance at their face. To see what reaction he had received. There were so many things that could be said. So many things they probably should have said. One of them being ‘get out’ which so gingerly danced upon the tip of their tongue.

His head swayed to the side, mouth opening once but then pressed together in a thin line.

This was probably the withdrawals talking. The pain talking. It wasn’t anything he could really stop from spilling out, either way. “Come on. You’re not stupid now, too.” He clenched his fist, then unclenched, nervously fidgeting. “You might be boring but you’re not an idiot.”

”Stop speaking in fucking riddles and spit it out.”

House scoffed, maybe out of amusement. He made eye contact again and straightened out his back just a little. “You hate me. I like pissing you off.” They raised an eyebrow at this, opening their mouth to speak but House shut them up by just putting his whole hand over their mouth.

”Shut up. I know, stating the obvious.” He mumbled, watching them carefully before slowly lowering his hand again once he deemed that it was ‘safe’. “But you haven’t made any real effort into pushing me out. And I…” he furrowed his brows, pinching the bridge of his nose.

”I don’t know.” It all came to an abrupt end. House looked at them as if he expected them to understand what he was saying. What all this stumbling over words meant. There was a certain look in his eyes though, one that had replaced his smug piece-of-shit look from before. The one they were used to.

Too many silences. There’d been too many between them in such a short period of time. But whose fault was that, huh?

”You’re saying… that I… need you? Or what? That I like you?” Shock was still riddled all over their face— a mixture of shock and anger that is. Every time they calmed down he always managed to rile them up again. That has got to be a skill.

A sort of relief seemed to wash over him as he leaned back again. He made a gesture with his hand, giving them another look. The ever familiar House stare.

He was still playing a game. Whether or not his intentions were to simply screw around with them no longer mattered. Because even if he was being genuine the bastard didn’t know how to express himself without hopping through loops. His reaction to them finishing his thought spoke louder than any sort of response he could have followed up with. Even if they said that it was completely untrue it was too late, he made up his mind.

His reaction also meant that the thought of them needing him wasn’t a thought he disproved of.

They relaxed, eyes downcast for a second before they met his eyes again, “you’re a piece of shit.” They muttered, eyes then shifting to his hand that was closest to them. His other was still on his thigh. It had been the entire time. Right now though, it slowed down its ministrations. His attention was on them.

”I should be proving you wrong.” They were slow, grazing their hand over his before interlocking their fingers with his. Warm. Stiff but not dismissive of the touch.

”But you’d see through me, right? Because you always do. You know so much.” He didn’t lean in, but they did. It was like the air had gone still, nothing held either of them back. Not sure House wanted to be held back in any way. Especially considering the way he looked to their lips, ever slightly parted for him.

He was quiet. Waiting. Wasn’t this what he expected? Or— something adjacent?

They tilted their head, lightly lifting themselves off the couch to reach him, leaning over him just a little. “You’re not stopping me.” They mumbled, taking a brief pause. Their eyes stared at his face, appraising him. What did he look like? Hazy. Supposedly, they should back off now.

They got their answer. Didn’t they?

“You’re such a piece of shit.” They breathed out before kissing him. When did the mood change? Perhaps the very moment they decided to entertain his childish game of feelings.

House didn’t waste any time to reciprocate. His hand moved off his thigh, hiking around their waist and pulling them close, so they didn’t have to hover as much. Mouths moving in tandem, both of them warming up as hands travelled up and down and groped. He tried to advance, but they pushed back.

”Don’t you even think it House.” They whispered against his lips, one of their hands on his other thigh and another against his chest. Kissing him again, he chased after them as they pulled back again to give him a smug smile, “under my roof, my rules.”

”Taking my credit? For this? Didn’t think you a thief.” He spoke, but his eyes were trained back on their lips.

“You think I want the credit for initiating?” They muttered, their hand trailing up from his chest to his face. “No. I want the credit for this.” They leaned back down, inching their bodies closer as they kissed again. As feverish as they were, the heat of the moment wasn’t enough to cover the sudden sharp pain he felt on his lip.

His shoulders tensed, what was akin to a whimper slipping past his lips. His eyes fluttered open, and he saw them above him. A gleaming of something besides saliva on her own lips.

House’s hand goes up, pressing it gently against his lip, “you bit me.” There was blood, not too much, but enough. It was the busted lip they’d nurtured, now it was bleeding again. Yet he didn’t find it at all insulting. Instead, he almost looked pleasantly surprised.

”Want me to kiss it all better?” They mused, chest heaving still, and giving him time to either accept or decline. Maybe they should have asked first—

“You’d be sleeping on the couch if you didn’t.” He hardly finished his sentence before he reached for them again, the two clawing at each other desperately as saliva and blood was smeared against their faces. They were kind enough to not do much more to fuck up his lip more, instead going to plant kisses against the side of his neck and down to his chest.

A few red imprints left in their wake, which looked like red lipstick at the time but would most certainly just look like dried blood in the morning. And most certainly not look like kisses.

The hickeys though— that was most certainly going to be a conversation topic between House and Wilson in the morning.

”Admit it House,” they murmured against his skin, their hands quickly working to unbutton his shirt, “you’re the one who needs me.” They kissed and gently nipped at his skin, their hands moving to his belt when his upper body was exposed for them.

He tilted his head back, hissing out a breath as he tried to muster up some words without giving them too much gratification. Looking back, he eyed their close proximity to where he needed them most. “Says the one with their hands practically down my pants.”

“Fine. I’ll take them out.”

“Don’t you dare.”

Guess they were both going to be sleeping on the couch that night.

[crows-in-the-house]

Swapping clothes with Bill

Summary : headcannons for you wearing his and him wearing your clothes

tw: none

there may be some spelling mistakes ig, sorryyy, tell me what you guys think!

You wearing his clothes

laughts at you cuz u look stupid

adjusts the bowtie practically strangling you (he couldn't care how much he suffecates you, his favorite pet human looks just too cute! Maybe he should get you a collar? won't tell you that tho)

his gloves and shoes/socks? yeah no, you're not wearing those, they won't fit you, but you're welcome to wear similar ones

won't tell you but your impersonating attemps do make him a little amused.

will try to manipulate you make you fall for him harder, so if he's in human form you can get his overcoat. he will act like a gentelmen of course, putting it on you, saying he's worring his dumb little puppet will get sick! It's so chilly here, you should have brought a sweater! (as if you two are not inside your home)

his clothes have weird feel to them, like as if they were buzzing, maybe moving on their own just slightly, you won't feel entirely comfortable wearing them (10% evil silk, 90% ghuls skins, made in Ghx̌okþo)

just dont reach inside the hat. Whatever bunny joke you have won't make him laugh if you pull out something else and lose it.

Him wearing your clothes

will also laugh at you

your stupid human clothes are weird and don't make sense! (either help him put them on, or watch your shirt and pants get new holes)

it's not like you will want them back tho, some of your pockets will get filled with glass shards, centepides or even black holes if you've been annoying him lately. he can wear your jacket for mere 2 seconds and it will get altered in some way. maybe a zipper turns to teeth. maybe the fluffy insides are radioactive, who knows.

your scarfs, bowties, shawls and hats, have the biggest survival chances (don't think you will get them back tho, they are Bills now)

the least amount of "customizing" you got was when you begged him to give you back your favorite shirt. It has "Bill's property" cut out on your back now.

tbh if you want your clothes back in one piece you better just buy new ones and let him draw on them with those cloth markers. he will call himself the greatest model and designer

for him 10/10 experience, likes wearing your hoodies

will not admit that tho

[66kenobi66]

WTF Vivziepop

TW: Fujoshi/ SA Mention

Is it just me or does it just feel like all of Vivziepop's characters exist just so people can draw NSFW art/buy sexy merch of them?

Nearly 3/4 of the characters are overly-explicit, constantly sexualized, and are always talking about/partaking in sex. Any characters who happen to differ from this formula are either: 1) Children/portrayed as childish; or 2) are meant to be villains/mean prudes.

All the MLM characters are meant to appeal to fujoshis who think men hooking up is hot.

Angel is an especially heinous case of this as he doesn't just get the typical MLM-fetishization, he also is used as a sock-puppet for Vivzie/her friends S/A fetish (one of the workers of Hazbin has ADMITTED to drawing S/A art of Angel and Val that's intended to be "hot").

But maybe I'm just the problem.

[grimbanes]

I Was Using You. Kaz Brekker x GN! Reader.

Summary: “You’re right.” You muttered, dropping into a squat against the wall and cradling the sides of your head, then rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, “I want my time back. I want all those hours I spent worrying about you back. I want all the information I passed to you back. I want my heart back, Kaz. Most of all I want you to give my love back.” OR kaz had you both practice being around each other and acting as a couple would to prepare you both for a heist but you ended up falling for him for real. Part 1 of a twoshot. WC: 2.9k GENRE: ANGST, minor humor. tw: blood, guns, violence, the usual six of crows warnings. A/N: i had a lot of fun writing this one but part 2 will definitely be more angsty <3

“The truth of the matter is that I was using you,” Kaz’s words felt as chilled as the water running through the canals throughout Ketterdam’s cursed streets. You stared at him with your brass knuckles loose around your fingers, unable to hold your fists and you felt yourself lean back against the wall behind you, disbelief clouding your judgement. Nina’s words echoed in your mind: “Kaz is a good actor, just as good as me and I’m military trained and yet… I couldn’t even pretend to be in love like that. I think he really does feel for you.” 

“You’re a thief,” You breathed with dawning dread, brushing the back of your hand against your cheek and wiping blood and dust across your sweat soaked skin. The job had been perfect, gone smoother than anything and now you just awaited the signal from Wylan that it was clear to make a swift exit. You had played your role for months for this job and you hadn’t even realised you were a puppet on a string. All those nights in Kaz’s office, the coffees you brought him, the little notes he left around for you. It was all preparing you to play the role for that heist and selfishly, Kaz knew how to make you fall for him for real, reality winding you in the middle of a dingy storage room in a warehouse on some island off of the coast of Ketterdam. 

“We all had a job to do and you’re the least reliable. I did what needed to be done,” Kaz’s icey gaze didn’t waver with uncertainty but there was a rigidness in his frame, all straight lines deadly still rather than flowing like waves licking at algae-slick rocks. In his impossibly dark suit, jacquard waistcoat and bronze pocket watch, he stood towering, tall and domineering and with just a single sentence, he turned from your favourite person to walk on the cobbled streets to the Devil himself. 

“Give it back,” You heard yourself mutter out, your eyes wide and hand clutching at the front of your shirt. Your heart was breaking over and over the more you stared at him. The more you studied his gloves, reminiscing of the bare hands that had tucked your hair behind your ear. The soft smiles he often threw your way from across the Crow Club’s floor, just the hint of a curve that only you or Jesper could identify. The way he would work himself late into the night and silently ask for a drink with that twinkle in his eyes, relying on you for something he could easily do himself because he wanted you around him.

You wanted to march across the room and kick his cane from his grasp and sock him in the jaw. You wanted to march across the room and grab the front of his stupid coat and tell him that it's okay to feel for you. You wanted to do so much but most of all, you didn’t want to be the person to make that decision for him. You need Kaz to choose you for himself, not coax him into wanting you. Not in the way he had done to you and then ripped your heart from your chest with the proficiency of a heartrender. Dirtyhands, indeed. 

“I don’t know what you’re asking me to return,” Kaz spoke up with his raspy timbre, absentmindedly tapping his cane against the rickety floorboards but other than that, the only movement in his tall frame as the tensing of his jaw, a subtle flex of muscle beneath alabaster skin. 

“You’re right.” You muttered, dropping into a squat against the wall and cradling the sides of your head, then rubbed your eyes with the palms of your hands, “I want my time back. I want all those hours I spent worrying about you back. I want all the information I passed to you back. I want my heart back, Kaz. Most of all I want you to give my love back.”

It was a weighted statement. Did you mean for him to give it back and love you in return or did you mean to give it back because he didn’t deserve to have it? You didn’t know that much, you just knew it to be your truth. It was a confession of your feelings, one that Kaz Brekker was certainly not used to despite his intelligence and observational skills. 

“I didn’t promise you anything,” Kaz’s stupid voice brought you from your rapture and you silently agreed. He hadn’t promised anything and that was your mistake. Kaz never went back on his word if you managed to get him to give it to you first. There may not be any honour in thieves, but there was honour in being Kaz Brekker. 

You brought yourself to your feet and steeled yourself, quashing those feelings that wanted to burst from your chest and bloom hydrangeas, rescinding all the words that dared wish to roll from your tongue. You would not waste your breath because the young man in front of you was not someone who bothered with such niceties. You would not give him the chance to see you beg. You would not beg for love you knew you deserved so instead, you would play your role and dance to the tune the piper played.

“It’s better this way, anyway. I should be thanking you,” You eyed the door, adjusting the bandages you tied to your wrist to support your punches and then you grabbed the little knife you stored in your boot, brass knuckles tight around your fingers. A loud explosion echoed in the far distance and you cast him a glance. You both had a job to finish.

Kaz didn’t reply, just lowered to a squat that mirrored yours prior and flirted with the lock of the door they hadn’t entered through, deft fingers caressing sweetly and crooning a symphony to each little motion until the lock was bursting open to embrace him, only to be discarded and pushed open to reveal the hallway in front of them. You stepped past his hunched frame, leaving himself to get up on his own because he was more than capable. You approached the narrow wall that turned down a corner and peered over, gesturing your hand that it was clear and then began to push forward. The plan was to slip through a window and down onto the next floor, make a run for it as Jesper and Nina created a distraction. It was simple and you could both do it with your eyes closed.

The uneven steps behind you was enough for you to know that Kaz wasn’t using his cane to walk, no doubt feeling that ache in his shin and thigh that you would offer to get a chair for him to prop his leg up, telling him of little remedies your grandmother had told you about before her passing. It left a bitter taste on your tongue because you could have had that. You both could have had that but Kaz didn’t care for anything unless it came with a price tag or a promise of vengeance. A comforting lie. Kaz did care. He cared deeply, in his own way. He cared by lying for you. He cared by spinning little webs with his vile tongue and smoothing each little mistruth with enough certainty that it became absolute reality. Kaz cared by giving you your loved one’s share of money when they lost their lives. Kaz cared by thinking of you as family and having loyalty to you even if he didn’t mean for it. He cared by lowering his hat when you lost your life. His care was as cruel as he was, but it was still enough to regard. 

You both approached the window but rather than let Kaz unlock it you slashed the lock with your knife and hoisted it up, throwing one leg over until you were straddling it and turning your gaze to Kaz.

“Do you want a hand?” You asked, offering him your hand with your palm turned up but he stared at you, jaw taut but his eyes held somewhat amusement.

“I would prefer a leg,” He retorted, stepping closer and gesturing for you to hurry out of the window with an impatient wave of his hand, thrusting his cane into your grasp. 

He held it up and open with one glove covered hand, eyes cast behind them and then back to you, repeating the glances over and over as you gripped the window sill and let your body hang, throwing it into a swing and through the window below, slipping through the next window that Kaz had conveniently left open previously. Then you leaned out the window, over the sill and held your hands out whilst Kaz lowered himself through, your fingers locking around the bottom of his ridiculously fancy shoe attached to his bad leg and you helped him through the window with ease. Little things like letting you help him had you wishing to punch him in the gut and confess your undying love all at once. Ridiculous. You handed back his cane.

You both set off in perfect, uneven steps towards the flight of stairs, light on your feet and near impossible to detect. Everything remained silent and it caused you both to cast each other a glance, uncertainty clear. By now, gunfire should be heard, anything that would cause a distraction. Perhaps the two troublemakers had seduced the entire building into silence. That would be the day. You felt a small smile pull at your lips, peeking down over the railing of the stairs-

You heard it before you registered the blooming agony curling rose stems along your right shoulder, thorns digging into each nerve. BANG. Gritting your teeth, you felt your entire body recoil backwards, knife dropping to the floor with a noisy clatter and your hand caught your shoulder, palm pressed just below your collarbone, back colliding into a firm chest. You tried to stifle any noises of pain, an expert at manoeuvring through it. Months of torture tended to make someone good at that. You exhaled heavily through your nose, more annoyed with the inconvenience of your right hand now useless at your side. You cast a glance to Kaz from over your shoulder, his eyes already on your wound and his throat bobbing with a heavy swallow, his hands floating uselessly either side of your arms. Now was not the time for concern. 

Throwing yourself away from his tall frame, you proceeded down the corridor rather than down the spiralling staircase, feet still light on the burgundy carpet and you pushed into a side room, Kaz following and shutting the door quietly. Saints, it fucking hurt. There was no doubt that they would begin pushing up to the next floor, fortunate that the carpet below was red. Luck or careful planning, you absentmindedly considered, eying the thief with his side against the door, ear pressed to the wood. 

“Son of a bitch,”  You grunted, ripping at your shirt and beginning to fasten it around your shoulder, mind rushing a million miles an hour. The staircase was a no go, now you needed to rely on Kaz’s assortment of plans and hope that he had one that didn’t involve you dying. 

“You need help.”

“Astute observation as always, Kazzy,” You sighed, sweat beading at your temple. It should stop you bleeding out, for now. You hoped. Hope is dangerous, you laughed to yourself. 

“Y/N-”

“You did a wonderful job convincing other people that you loved me, you know. I almost believed it myself. How insane is that? I nearly believed you. Me! I don’t trust the hinges on that door to open properly, let alone be foolish enough to believe that you loved me and for months too,” You felt dizzy, laughing into the back of your hand as you swayed to your feet, bracing the wall as you stood in front of him, entire body aching. 

“People often avoid the truth because they are afraid that it will destroy the illusion.” Kaz replied with haste, pulling the door open and then stepping out, “We’ll take the next window. Are you coming?”

But the only response Kaz got was you falling unceremoniously onto the floor with an echoing, inelegant thump. 

____________________________________________________________

When you came to the first thing you registered was the brain splitting headache bruising one side of your head. You pushed yourself up and clumsily reached for the whiskey glass filled with water and you threw it back, not caring how noisily you chugged the liquid because it was the most beautiful thing you had experienced. Maybe you would kill for another glass.

The second thing you registered was raised voices echoing through the Slat, each yelled murmur enveloped with unfamiliar silence. It had you curious because the Slat was never silent, always busy and bustling with success or singing, misery or pain. The third was that it was undoubtedly Kaz Brekker raising his voice. No wonder the entire building shook with echoing trepidation. With shaky legs, you carried yourself from the comfort of the bed towards your door and you stepped onto the landing of the second floor, only to meet eyes with Inej. She gestured you forward and you followed until she was pushing a bucket aside, peering straight into what used to be Per Haskell’s office, and now it was Kaz’s.

“What’s going on?” Your voice felt like sandpaper and sounded like nails on a chalkboard but Inej hushed you with a finger to her lips, shifting aside to give you room to listen in. Did she do this often?

“Where were you? Jesper? Nina?” Kaz’s familiar tone chimed out, rough and impatient and you observed the way he raked his hand through his dishevelled hair. He looked worse for wear, purple bruising beneath his raging irises and lashes long, blue marks littered across his jaw and neck but his clothes remained as put together as they always did. 

“There were more than we expected, boss. Our information was a little off, we did what we could,” Jesper scratched the back of his head with his other hand laying on his revolver, no doubt seeking comfort from the pearl handled guns. 

“No, you didn’t. You could have taken a bullet, Jes. Why does it have to be Y/N picking up the slack all the time? That was your job,” Kaz’s lips turned downwards into a frown and his limped pacing ceased, his tired form dropping into the chair at the desk, linking his fingers and elbows on the desk, mouth pressed against the hands in thought, unblinkingly and studying the two in front of him. You’re the least reliable. The two statements were very conflicting.

“Kaz- I’m sorry, okay? I have a home to get back to, I was thinking of Wylan,” Jesper sighed, shifting his weight from foot to foot and Nina beside him picked at her dress, lips pressed and eyes cast down.

“That’s exactly the problem, Jesper. If you died, your cut of the money would go to Wylan. If Y/N died, who would get the cut? There isn’t anybody left for them,” Kaz sighed out, explaining it to them with ease in his tone. At least he understood Jesper’s perspective. 

“You would. Besides, since when did you care about any of these lowlives and their family?” Nina spoke up, finding her voice and she crossed her arms across her chest. Those first two words had your breath caught in your lungs, gripping the edges of your night clothes and seeking reassurance from Inej beside you. She nodded with a smile, gesturing her chin to the conversation happening below them. 

“Why would I?” Kaz shot back quickly, eyebrows furrowed and hands now resting on the desk, his entire leaning forward with threatening interest towards the subject at hand.

“When I lost Matthias, you gave me his cut. That’s a lot of money for one person, even if I lost more than everyone else. You gave it to me because of how much I sacrificed for the job and because I loved him. You love Y/N, whether you admit it or not. You’re deflecting your worry into anger when you should be with them right now, not yelling at us,” Nina punctuated every sentence with a point of her finger, being met with Jesper stifling a laugh and Kaz’s silent uncomfortability. 

“How long, boss?” Jesper asked with sincere concern, stepping closer to the desk and knocking against it with a knuckle.

“What?” Kaz asked, confusion written across every scar, every wrinkle, every bruise and every pore of his face. 

“How long have you loved Y/N? It stopped being practice for you and you sabotaged it because it was clouding your judgement and making you inefficient on jobs. That’s why you stopped asking for them on jobs, and that’s why you would get their cut, Brekker,” Nina explained, locking arms with Jesper and holding her pretty head high.

The possibility of Kaz Brekker returning your feelings and sabotaging himself sounded utterly absurd. Surely somebody like Kaz would embrace love, would burn the world down if it so much as harmed the person he loved. Kaz was fearless, he would never be afraid of being seen with the person he loved, surely. Right? Inej placed a ghosting hand on your back, her beautiful bronze skin cast in a warm glow and you stared at her, seeking counsel in her impossibly dark irises. 

“What do I do?” You whispered to Suli girl.

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

Alright Gravity Falls fandom, we need to talk.

MASSIVE tw for (not always particularly kind) fictional depictions of mental illness, psychosis and hallucinations. General unreality tw, also tw for heavy/realistic gore. This post goes into possible GF crossover/meta content within a fairly graphic live-action tv show.

I’m sure everyone has seen Jason Ritter’s recent monthlong, Book Of Bill -fueled twt roleplay stint where he acted, loudly, as though he was possessed by Bill Cipher.

One problem: I already knew it was Jason Ritter that was possessed, NOT Alex Hirsch… since last fall. And I think y’all need to know why, because… well, you’ll see.

(Disclaimer: I have not seen 99.9% of Gravity Falls, and have never been in the fandom. I have only watched/read the necessary material to make this post.)

The relevant episode here is “Sock Opera”. First of all, this episode establishes that may have been another viable vessel for Bill left behind after the series finale, albeit a charred and torn one.

Puppet Dipper.

Why the fuck does this matter? Well, last fall (premiering on the night of the Harvest Moon no less), edgy meme fodder superhero show The Boys released a spinoff, Gen V, focusing on superheroes in college. One character, named Sam Riordan (don’t get me started on the Riordan thing. His brother’s name was Luke), suffers from vivid hallucinations, and that’s where things get really strange.

Final tw for live-action depiction of psychosis/hallucinations

So… yeah. Jason Ritter, on The Boys*, playing HIMSELF, playing a deranged puppet show host who appears in a boy’s mind to convince him to go on murder sprees.

*the puppets and larger in-universe puppet tv show associated with Jason Ritter’s character have since appeared in the mainstream The Boys universe, so it can be concluded that Jason Ritter exists there as well.

Oh, and when Sam does give into Jason Ritter’s influence (wtf am I even writing rn) this happens:

Realistic gore warning, especially at the end of the clip. Seriously.

THATS. CONCERNING

Making all this even weirder, this entire show predates the Book Of Bill’s announcement by two whole months, and Jason Ritter’s recent Hot Triangle Summer by almost nine months.

It also predates Matpat’s ICONIC penultimate theory video by seven months. In that video, Matpat (jokingly, mostly) lays out a “final theory” that Bill

1) Survived (confirmed by Book of Bill)

2) is looking for a way into “our” dimension (also confirmed)

3) has found a new human puppet in…. Alex Hirsch. Now, that’s where I don’t agree. Due to the above clips, I always assumed that if Bill was hiding among the GF crew, it was in Jason’s head.

Also in this video, Matpat attempts to explain the Bill Cipher Zodiac thing (??? as I said I don’t actually watch this show)

…this thing. Matpat attempted to explain That Thing by linking each symbol to a project Alex has since worked on, saying that together, these easter eggs would spell out “the way to defeat Bill for good”. However, there is one symbol that Matpat couldn’t figure out.

The “llama”. Except it’s not a llama. It’s an alpaca.

A seemingly (ie, hopefully) sentient alpaca named Sloane, who just happens to be one of the most baffling, non-sequitor gags in Gen V.

So, this is as bizarre as it gets, right? All this goes down, Book of Bill comes out, Jason has his Bill roleplay month and we’re all done, can shut the proverbial and literal book on this specific vein of Cipher shenanigans. …Right?

fUCK NO ITS NOT OVER.

On June 4th, 2024, Gen V’s official twt and insta pages announced their newest character, Cipher, with the show’s second season being confirmed for 2025 in a post dated July 26th.

That’s all the updates on this situation for now. A quick reality check to finish up: Obviously Bill Cipher isn’t real and these writers, actors etc aren’t actually possessed. However, I would take Matpat’s own thoughts one: Alex Hirsch absolutely being the type of person to build this bonkers metanarrative, and add that this is far from the only absolute gut punch of a late-2000s-fandom-specific easter egg to be found in Gen V. Other examples include the characters of Luke Riordan, Annabeth (yes seriously), and ofc the tragic/antihero psychic girl with mind control abilities whose eyes turn red with blood when she overuses her powers, and who loses her hand in a climactic season-ending battle…. If You Know, You Know. TLDR someone in Gen V’s writers’ room is both young enough, savvy enough and unhinged(complimentary) enough to 10000% do this on purpose.

Anyway yeah. Just coming over from The Boys fandom to let yall know that Bill has already made the jump to 3d, via puppets of all things. Hope this was helpful or just vaguely ominous.

[satanicsanity]

Satanic potentially as a sock puppet???

(If ykyk)

Tw: Cracking sound effect & yelling

Subtitles: Neighbor... Don't turn me into a marketable sock puppet...

[danganronpa-ship-tourney]

If you want to make propaganda you can view the submissions here but please know the second tab which also contains the reasonings submitted has like every TW so be prepared!

Right now the rules of the next section of the tournament are as followed

You WILL be civil to the shippers of the ship you think is worse, no I do not CARE if it's abuse or incest or the most problematic thing in the world, we will be CIVILIZED. If I catch you spewing toxic shit about how all shippers of a ship are horrible terrible people who need to die you WILL be blocked. We are not here for a guilt trip! We are here to have fun being dramatic! Small PLAYFUL pokes are fine, but everyone should have fun even the shippers of the ship you think is worse.

I shouldn't have to specify but be like, actually decent about what you say, I had a person in the forms wishing rape on a character and like bro take that up with your ao3 search results not me or anyone else here. So like, yeah the characters are just characters, but theres a difference between edge and potentially being intensely triggering and uncomfortable for literally no reason.

If you want to make propaganda I advise either light hearted gags at a ships expense,

Example of a light hearted gag would be like a picture of Junko sitting on Mikan kneeling into a bench and a caption like "would you really not vote for this?" thats hilarious and doesn't target actual people.

Or you draw art for the ship that gives you less despair, branch out a bit. Never drawn I dunno Ryoma x Kirumi before but you think its less toxic then uhh Hajime x Mikan? Well here's your chance to try drawing some Ryoma x Kirumi! Make propaganda for the ship you want people to NOT vote for!

I can't enforce this but the tag you want to use for anything you create for this should be "#Despair Ship" this is so people can filter it out more easily. I'm here to cause fun, not make people frustrated because their tag got overrun.

Again I also can't enforce this but remember the point isn't to find the ship that's the most abusive, or the most toxic, its to find the ship that gets the most despair. For instance there are very few ships on the list I find personally more despairing then kokichi and shuichi, and that's because it's a lot harder to stumble on some of the more kneejerk offensive ships compared to how I cannot escape kokichi and shuichi making out no matter how hard i try. Like I said I can't enforce this but if you're wondering why a ship you think is more inherently toxic is losing, this is probably the reason why.

I am also a single person, while I have a friend who is here on the sidelines cheering me on, I hand made the bracket and everything else about this. If the brackets aren't perfectly balanced or a ship you don't like didn't make the cut, remember that I am just a single person.

Voter fraud is allowed and encouraged I'm not a coward this is the voting fraud website if you're determined to make a thousand sock puppet accounts just to make sure Celeste x Togami is the winner then that's the biggest possible powermove and I respect it. Also I guess I accept bribes now, because I think it's funny.

Thank you for all the support I've gotten! While rather small scale compared to other polls, the fact I've got people sending asks and following means a lot to me. Even if I barely get any interaction from here out, I still had fun and am happy to have done this. Voting will either open Saturday or Sunday but if I forget and it's a day or too late then feel free to shake me in the asks by short term memory is Not Good

[sweetlikehoneystingslikeabee]

Howdy!! How about some platonic headcanons for TF2 Medic? I just really wanna hug him and infodump to him fr fr JENDJDHDHDHB :3

Platonic HCS w/ TF2 Medic

You're so valid! SO valid. If I wouldn't be afraid of their stupid bullshit resulting in an early death for me, I'd totally want them as a big family.

TW: Death, medical gore

Klaus (red)

Klaus plays around way too much for a man in charge of medical care. Making jokes as he handles organs, using his temporarily dead teammates like a sock puppet during surgery, replicating things like their teeth and then displaying them... it's all very morbid.

He'd probably let you do surgery under his guidance if you wanted! Think of it like bonding! He's sure Scout won't mind. And even if he did... eh.

Hopefully, you don't mind super unsanitary hugs with a lot of blood! If you encourage hugging, he will forget to change his clothing and greet you with a squish! Between him and Heavy, you'll be filthy and your back feels like a cracked glow stick. It's affection.

He doesn't always understand the info you're dumping on him, but he definitely listens with rapt attention... As long as you're prepared for his practically unhinged ramblings on medical procedures that absolutely should not be performed on people. Why he doesn't have a license, silly things like that. You'd give him a license, right? Right.

Sometimes as his friend, you might have to help find Archimedes. For whatever reason, Klaus's dove has this penchant for burying himself into patient's body cavities. It is what it is. Like his owner, the bird loves giving affection while he's still covered in viscera. You might as well start wearing scrubs whenever you're coming to visit your friend.

His other doves surround you on your shoulders when you come by. Not as tall as Heavy, but still a nice perch!

One way you notice his care for you is how he fusses about your health. You aren't like the team, you know. You won't just respawn if something bad were to happen. Better let him check you out if you're ever feeling poorly! That being said, wouldn't recommend it given his... alternative methods for fixing things, sometimes.

Ludwig (blu)

He doesn't take his work much more seriously than his red team counterpart. However, he seems to have this odd fascination with death and "true death." He's not suicidal or anything like that, just. Sometimes he'll wax poetic a little too often about how exciting it'll be when he finally reaches his end. He looks at you with affection that one day you might die and he can hold a ceremony.

He wouldn't let you do surgery per say, but he'd be down to let you assist and hand him tools as you tell him all about your hyperfixations. Spy might be on this table for hours, it's fine!

He's a little more mindful of the bloodstained hugs than Klaus. While he doesn't mind aseptic technique the way he should, he does recognize you could get sick if he doesn't change and he doesn't want that to happen to his little friend! If you got REALLY sick, he'd have to install that little respawn chip all of them have and it's not... pleasant.

Do you like reading? Does he have a collection of books for you! Old ones, some quite rare. If you ask where he found them, he just smiles. He's traveled the world, you know! He totally stole them.

Once the two of you are really close, he'll even let you help him give Archimedes his "bath" aka a little water spritzer hose that the dove likes to dance in. He still likes being pristine and clean outside of his owner's work, being a former wedding dove and all.

Archimedes bugs you for treats because he thinks you can convince Ludwig to hand over the goods. The other doves have started doing it, too. They all coo in unison when you enter the room.

[jaeyleo]

REQUESTS YOU SAY.

Hmmmm... Maybe another one of those where Chase is like not exactly fully Pink yet but he knows it's sort of useless to fight against Pseudo when he wants to dress him up and everything. Maybe being on that border of actually liking the fact that he doesn't have to think but also HATING that he feels himself liking it :3c

ur brain: LARGE!! i hope i captured this the way you pictured, if not feel free to send it again and i'll make another attempt!

tws: dehumanization, brainwashing, platonic undressing, scars, complete loss of independence, talk of depressive and apathetic feelings, implied past noncon platonic undressing (sorry that's a mouthful), noncon platonic use of a camera

. . .

There are many things Chase doesn't like seeing here in Denmark. Obvious things like knives and tools to burn, chains or the doors to the cellar in the back yard. Things that make him shiver and want to turn away.

Some things aren't as obvious. He never thought seeing something as simple as a camera would make him cringe. Even more so, the color pink. Today he has both combined.

Pseudo has the living room moved around to take pictures. There are props: teddy bears and coloring books, a juice box, a shock collar, a white beret hat. Blankets and other miscellaneous objects placed about, things Chase doesn't care enough to look into. What's the point? If Pseudo wants to use it, he will.

"Are you excited?" Pseudo asks the doll, watching his gaze lazily make its way around the room.

"Ecstatic," Chase replies.

"Come now. Someday you'll mean it."

And though the words may be true, Chase doesn't have the energy to care.

The monster approaches with his outfit of choice. A soft pink cardigan with pretty buttons and light red strawberries making their ways in rows down the fabric. A white button down. A pair of light blue jeans, slightly worn. White tennis shoes and frilly socks to poke out.

Carefully he sets the items down, and begins undressing the doll.

Chase doesn't protest. He stopped being embarrassed of showing his body to Pseudo a long time ago, as this is a regular practice for the two now. He's not allowed to get dressed or undressed on his own. Not allowed to eat on his own, drink on his own, bathe on his own, think on his own. He even has to ask to use the bathroom.

Pink isn't sure if he's just depressed, or completely apathetic. He doesn't care, fighting is useless. What difference does it make?

What irks him now is the last few times their routine has been done, Chase finds himself enjoying it.

He doesn't have to make any decisions anymore. In the mornings and evenings, he barely lifts a finger, completely dependent on Pseudo to do everything. No more stress on what to wear or if it looks nice. No more stress on what to eat or cook. No more worrying about waking up on time to get to work, or waking up late and realizing he's worn the wrong shoes. No more of anything he has to put any effort into.

The thought of it makes him sick. The fact that he likes it now? He likes it? That can't be right. It cant be right.

"I told you so," Pseudo says, slipping the button up over Pink's bare shoulders. Scars litter his body, torn up like a chew toy.

"T- told... told me so what?"

Pseudo smiles, pulling down Chase's pants next.

"That you'd like this someday."

Jeans slip on. Zip, button.

Chase frowns, growing red in his cheeks. "I don't like taking pictures.."

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I---N- s- stop.. stop listening to my thoughts!"

Pseudo slaps him on the mouth, be polite.

Chase huffs, growing more and more embarrassed. It takes him a few seconds to talk again, trying to correct himself after discipline.

"Why do you have to listen to my head all the time..."

"You're mine, Pinky Pie. I want to know what's going on up there. Lift your foot."

Chase does as he's told, feeling the socks from this morning come off and the frilly ones come on. Shoes are next.

The puppet is silent for a few moments. Then, he decides to ask inside his mind: "Do you hear everything?"

"Only when I want to."

"So you're not listening.... all the time, then?"

Pseudo comes up once the laces are tied, beginning to button up Chase's shirt.

"Only when I want to."

Another few silent moments, and the cardigan is over the dolls body. A pink comb straightens out pink hair, and a finishing touch of light makeup on his pretty face. Now, Chase is ready for pictures.

"Sit in the middle of the blanket," Pseudo commands, grabbing the polaroid and flicking the power switch. "Oh, eh, grab a teddy bear."

"...... Which one?"

He hates himself for asking that question. He hates himself for not wanting to make the decision. It's just proof that Pseudo's methods work.

The monster peeks through the camera to make sure the angle is just right.

"The one with buttons for eyes."

Chase obeys, and poses as he's told.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

This day in history

I'm touring my new, nationally bestselling novel The Bezzle! Catch me in CHICAGO (Apr 17), Torino (Apr 21) Marin County (Apr 27), Winnipeg (May 2), Calgary (May 3), Vancouver (May 4), and beyond!

#20yrsago EFF guide to Gmail privacy https://web.archive.org/web/20040516090804/https://blogs.eff.org/deeplinks/archives/001425.php#001425

#20yrsago Stephenson’s money-centric interview on Wired News https://web.archive.org/web/20040510183726/http://www.wired.com/news/culture/0,1284,63050,00.html?tw=wn_tophead_1

#15yrsago Somali pirates versus European toxic-waste dumpers https://www.independent.co.uk/voices/commentators/johann-hari/johann-hari-you-are-being-lied-to-about-pirates-1225817.html

#15yrsago If you lose your Amazon account, your Kindle loses functionality https://www.mobileread.com/forums/showthread.php?t=44350&highlight=amazon+banning

#15yrsago Secretive US prisons hold “terrorists” including animal rights activists and people who gave to the wrong charity http://www.greenisthenewred.com/blog/communication-management-units-mcgowan/1747/

#5yrsago The #ShellPapers: crowdsourcing analysis of all correspondence between Shell and the Dutch government https://www.ftm.nl/dossier/shell-papers

#5yrsago Air tanker drops are often useless for fighting wildfires, but politicians order them because they make good TV https://www.latimes.com/local/la-me-wildfires29-2008jul29-story.html

#5yrsago America today feels like the last days of the Soviet Union https://eand.co/how-american-collapse-resembles-soviet-collapse-94773b44fe17

#5yrsago EFF to Facebook: enforce your rules banning cops from creating sockpuppet accounts and be transparent when you catch cops doing it https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/04/facebook-must-take-these-four-steps-counter-police-sock-puppets

#5yrsago Not just Apple: Microsoft has been quietly lobbying to kill Right to Repair bills https://medium.com/u-s-pirg/microsoft-named-as-stopping-right-to-repair-in-washington-b880bf4ad052

#5yrsago Silicon Valley’s techie uprisings reveal growing support for socialism in tech https://www.salon.com/2019/04/11/silicon-valley-once-a-bastion-of-libertarianism-sees-a-budding-socialist-movement/

#5yrsago Investors controlling $3B in Facebook stock demand Zuckerberg’s ouster, and they will lose https://www.businessinsider.com/facebook-investors-will-vote-to-oust-mark-zuckerberg-as-chairman-2019-4

#5yrsago Starz abuses the DMCA to remove EFF’s tweet about Starz abusing the DMCA https://www.eff.org/deeplinks/2019/04/effs-tweet-about-overzealous-dmca-takedown-now-subject-overzealous-takedown

#5yrsago RIP, science fiction and fantasy Grand Master Gene Wolfe, 1931-2019 https://reactormag.com/gene-wolfe-in-memoriam-1931-2019/

#5yrsago Leaked, “highly classified” French report shows that the slaughter in Yemen depends on US support https://theintercept.com/2019/04/15/saudi-weapons-yemen-us-france/

#1yrago SVB bailouts for everyone – except affordable housing projects https://pluralistic.net/2023/04/15/socialism-for-the-rich/#rugged-individualism-for-the-poor