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Woooooooooo

I have been meaning to make myself an account for ages, but now staff has forced my hand with the stupid pop-ups for anyone not logged in.

Soon!

No it came from being in the public school system

Obsessed with this. It’s so true

thinking about the time they sent me a seven year old autistic patient to investigate if he was suffering abuse because in every psychological test he kept drawing awful monsters

and I start the consultation already miserable as fuck and I give the kid some pen and paper so I can maybe communicate and see what's on his mind

and then I go WAIT A GODDAMN SECOND I KNOW THOSE MONSTERS

turns out the kid just had a special interest in Five Nights at Freddy's

i'm making a brand new, unbearable wizard quiz

When Jason starts building his crime lord career, people start inexplicably comparing him to Matches Malone. They have the same mannerisms, the same fighting styles and a similar build. Some rogues even have theories that they're the same guy.

So when ever Matches is mentioned, red hood mutters "fuck that guy" under his breath and since Bruce puts his whole batussy into his personas, he's starts reciprocating that energy. All the rogues are scrambling to find out what happened to cause this beef. The entire Gotham underground now has to pick a side between one of their own who they've worked with and gotten to know over the years versus the new up and coming crime lord that's offering jobs and improving their lives. While Jason is wondering what he can do to stop being compared to Bruce, Bruce is trying to be a supportive parent (which means making sure the rogues don't turn on J) while protecting his persona he's been curating for years.

With the Slayer and the Princess away as mortals, the Cycle Broken, that leaves the 10~ voices and 20~ princesses left in what was once the Long Quiet, their centers gone, reality a simple cabin in nothing.

The voices however each believe in their respective princesses so much, they each shape the world with their beliefs, splintering multitudes of pockets of lifetimes in the nothing that is their everything.

Smitten and Damsel, simply staring into one another eyes in a meadow, they say nothing, do nothing, cause the other being happy is enough for them, and the other is happy if they are happy, an endless feedback loop.

The Tower on her throne, the Broken in a gilded cage beside her as she coos and pets him, the little Bird preening in adoration.

The Adversary and the Stubborn locked in endless, perfect, almost sexual combat, hand in unlovable hand.

The Opportunist and the Witch, embracing, smiling fake smiles, each with a blade ready to stab the other in the back.

The Razor and the Cheated playing Uno. The Razor is eating cards when the Cheated isn't looking.

Skeptic and Prisoner also looking into one another's eyes, each in chains, each squinting, never breaking eye contact.

The Cold and the Spectre, chilling.

The Nightmare and the Paranoid, gloved hand trailing across the bird's feathered neck.

Contrarian and Stranger, him trying to do something to annoy her, her laughing screaming in anger crying ignoring him.

The Hunted and the Beast, playing an eternal game of cat and bird.

What? They can't all bee good endings.

And yet, despite everything, none of them would have it any other way.

Not even the Paranoid.

At least his organs aren't shutting down anymore.