#and it’s the same with reading his stuff

[sexy-monster-fucker]

Santa, Baby

Santa!Art the Clown x F!Reader SMUT

Summary: There’s a Christmas Party at the club the reader works at. After bumping into a strange man in the streets, she spreads the word of the party.

cw: isn’t art his own warning??, choking, fingering, mentions of blood, oral f!receiving, multiple orgasms, mentions of kidnapping, biting, violence, p in v, hair pulling, scratching, blood play, overstimulation, creampie,

a/n: imma be real with yall, if you can’t handle watching the Terrifier movies don’t read fanfiction about Art bc tagging all this stuff in the warning was CRAZY lmao

~~~

It was the Saturday before Christmas.

Some people were out shopping, other’s having festive dinner with their loved ones. And then there was you. Getting dressed up in a slutty, red Santa-dress. It sat high upon your thighs, if you even attempted to bend over your matching red lacy underwear would be on full display.

Hoping the outfit would get you better tips. Maybe even a cute guy for you to play around with. Twirling Round in the mirror before leaving your house.

The weather was nice, so you opted to walk. You did not live that far away from work, sometimes the car was easier. But you could not lie that the thought of you turning heads on the street sent a thrill through you.

As you walked down the street, you bumped into a pale man wearing a Santa outfit. Knocking his black trash bag out of his grasp. White wig, red hat and jumpsuit, and big black shoes. Noticing his crooked nose and clown-like face paint. Rather peculiar for this time of year. Almost a mix of Halloween and Christmas.

His mouth formed an ‘O’ when your eyes met. Brows quickly furrowing down at you.

“I’m so sorry. I wasn’t paying attention,” you quickly apologized. Leaning down to pick up the bag for him. Your breasts peaking through the top of your tight dress. His eyes found themselves looking down your dress. Unable to deny his mind wandering to a perverted place. Not usually the type to feel this type of thing for people. Only desire he had being to kill and be covered in their blood. But something about you made a different part of him crave you.

“I like your costume,” you complimented, “There’s this Christmas Party down at the club if you’re interested.” You dug in your purse for one of the flyers. Giving it to him. Silently examining the pamphlet, his brows raised as he nodded. You both awkwardly stood on the sidewalk. Creepy smile never leaving the clown’s face. You continued to smile back at him, eyes looking around. “Silent type? How mysterious, I like it,” you tapped your fingers against his chest, “Hopefully I’ll see you there tonight, I’ve gotta get going. Bye!” You waved him off as you walked past him. His stiff body following you until he was facing the same direction. Eyes never leaving you. Peering at how your hips swayed and ass bounced in the dress.

What was wrong with him?

You headed down to the street the club was on. Waving at the bouncer, unable to stop himself from eye-fucking you in that dress. Booping him on the nose as you entered.

The club was decorated in all Christmas lights. A handful of fake trees placed along the floor. Everyone dressed up as different holiday characters. Elves, Snowmen, Reindeer, the whole nine yards. You were greeted by your happy coworkers as you took your place behind the bar. Preparing for the night of heavy drinkers ahead. Unable to get that clown out of your mind.

The Club was booming. Extremely loud Christmas remixes, people singing along and grinding together filled the scene. Strobing lights decorated the walls as the big projected screen behind the DJ showed clips of old Christmas movies without sound. It was difficult to hear your customers like this, good thing you could read lips.

There was finally a dry spell at the bar. Giving you time to stretch your neck and legs. Rolling your shoulders as you softly bobbed your head to the music. Taking a drink of water from your bottle. Almost every seat at the bar was taken. People hitting on each other, drinking away their sorrows, and some groups filled the seats. When a familiar face sat on your side of the bar. Loud garbage bag clanged against the floor. Causing you to jump out of your skin. Eyes peered over to the source.

White and Black face paint. It was the guy from the street. Your expression beamed at him. “Hey! You came by,” you reached a hand out to him in excitement. Wide smile painted across his face as he nodded at you. Still as silent as ever.

“I’m so glad you decided to come by. Still looking good in that Santa outfit I see,” you flirted. He snickered as he tucked his face into his shoulder, pretending that your words were embarrassing him. Hands coming up to wave off your compliment. Gesturing to your body, silently complimenting you.

You walked around the bar, hands tip-toeing up his arm, “Think you’re looking for a Mrs. Claus?”

The Clown tilted his head to the side. Eyes scanning your entire body, resting on your breasts with a devious smile. Looking up at you through his lashes, nodding slowly. You smiled at him.

“Can you cover me?” You called out to your coworker behind the bar. She gave a thumbs up as she poured a shot for a customer. You smiled giddily at him. His brows raising as he returned the look. He stood from his seat, towering over you. He was so tall. Long fingers wrapped around your wrist as he dragged you down a dark hallway. Garbage bag occasionally scraping the wall. He led you around as if he knew the place. Familiar with the proper hiding spots. Arousal pooled deep in your bones. Where his hand held your wrist ignited throughout your body.

He stopped in front of a dingy door to an abandoned bathroom. Opening it and allowing you in first. It was dark in the old bathroom. You never used this one, reserved for occasional hookups and doing lines for your coworkers. The mysterious clown flicked on the dimly yellow bulb. Pointing excitedly towards the old stained mirror. The words “Art Was Here” was written in some type of red. Assuming it was some lipstick.

“Is that your name?”

Art nodded happily. Jumping up and down and clapping. You leaned against the cold brick wall. Arms folded over your chest as you stared at him. Examining his tall figure. His loosely fitting Santa costume leaving most of him up to your imagination. Except for those hands. Long, strong fingers. Barely peaking out of the fingerless gloves he wore.

His expression dropped suddenly. Brows falling in a straight line over his eyes. Mouth sealed with a hint of a frown. You felt your heartbeat speed up. A small amount of fear taking over at his sudden mood change. His head tilted slightly, eyes tracing your body. Your eyes darted around the dark room unsure of what his next move was. Was he going to fuck you? Kill you? Maybe nothing at all.

Before you could open your mouth he lunged at you. Thick fingers wrapped around your throat. Strong grasp around your windpipe. Pulling every bit of air out of you. Your eyes widened at him. A smirk of mischief painting the corner of his mouth. Leaning forward as if he was going to kiss you, turning into a long stripe licked up your face. Shoulders bounced with silent laughter. Fingers tightening around your jugular. You could feel yourself struggling to breathe. Vision growing slightly blurry with each passing minute. Art’s fingers traced down your body, squeezing your breasts along the way. Hooked up under your dress. Raising his eyebrows in surprise when he felt your lacy panties soaking wet. Wagging his finger at you, partially shaming you for your arousal.

You gasped for air that you did not receive. Feeling woozy. Art’s finger going back down to your aching core, circling your clit with two fingers. A broken moan escaped your throat. Dark eyes stared at your face. Watching how it contorted when he would hit the spot you liked. Feeling his cock growing with the pathetic noises you made.

Just as you felt yourself about to faint, Art removed his hand from your neck. Your own hand replaced his as you began heaving for air. Sliding slightly down the wall, firmer against his fingers. He puckered his lip out mocking the tears that stained the corners of your eyes. Your moans were far louder now. Being able to fully express yourself and the harder feeling of his fingers. His dark eyes watched how your chest bounced with each moan you let out.

Art slipped his middle finger under your panties, sliding it into your soaked folds. Causing your body to buckle forward against him. Grabbing his shoulder for support as your legs grew shaky and weak. Emotionless eyes met yours. Face still and unmoving as you pleaded up at him with your doe eyes. Curling his finger while the others continue circling your clit. His name fell from you in a cry as you felt that familiar tightening in your lower abdomen.

He knew his way around the human body, that was for sure. Knowing all the right places to inflict pain or pleasure. Usually he enjoyed seeing the way people would desperately run from him, crying out in pain when he would strike them down. Loving the way blood and guts warmed up his hands. But here he was, keeping you in tact while still feeling your insides. Adoring the way your sensitive insides clamped around his finger. How your body begged for him to please it. Walls pulling him deeper into you. Still getting that same pleasure as he watched you cry out and cling to him. The way tears stained under your eyes and fingers dug into his skin pooling inside him. Feeling his own arousal begin growing in his oversized pants.

You began thrusting up and down on his fingers. Widening his eyes as he watched you chase your high with his fingers. Opting to slide another into you, curling and scraping against your insides. Grazing that spongey spot that sent electricity through you. Curiosity painted his expression now. With one final curl of fingers, you came undone around him. Walls fluttering and sucking in his fingers. Arousal leaking down his digits as he continued pumping into you. Your entire body began shaking as you dug your fingers into his shoulders, having to hold them both to stabilize yourself. Your face curled into the crook of his neck. Skin smelling of sweat and iron.

Art pushed you against the wall. Standing stiffly in front of you as you panted. Face red with post orgasm glow. Feeling your walls clamp around nothing now. Craving something more. A closed mouth smile morphed into a wicked grin, baring his stained teeth. Examining his fingers that had been inside you. Pulling them apart while they were still connected by your arousal, a slimey rope connecting them. Taking his fingers into his mouth, sucking the taste of you off them. Eyes rolling into the back of his head. Sucking them off with a pop.

Unable to deny that that did something for you. Your chest was tight as you looked his body up and down. Landing on the faint tent pitched in his pants.

The tall clown fell to his knees in front of you. Crawling over and throwing the front of your dress up. Staring at your ruined panties. Soaked lace sticking to your lips. His hand rubbed up your leg, with a tug of brute force ripping your panties off in one go. Cold air hitting your heated mound. He suddenly licked up into your pussy. Tongue dancing down the slit, lapping at the remainder of you. He took one of your legs and threw it over his shoulder, giving him better access to you.

Art ate you out like it was going to be his last meal. Sloppily, his tongue spread your folds while his hands held tightly into your thighs. His crooked nose bumping against your throbbing clit. Still overstimulated from your first orgasm. Knowing it would not take long for him to take you there again at this rate.

“Art, I’m going to cum again,” your voice was shaken.

He nodded aggressively, refusing to remove from your opening. He had found a new favorite taste. Unable to get enough of you. If he could, he would bottle your taste up and take it home with him. Or maybe even take you away with him. Lock you up in his warehouse so he could taste you whenever he wanted. He knew you would taste especially good when your period would come around. His two favorite flavors combined.

You began grinding down onto his face. Pushing his nose against your clit over and over. Chasing your secondary high, unsure how many more he would have you endure. Not really caring. If they all felt this good you would let him have you however he wanted. Unwinding on his face. Art pressed his tongue between your folds wanting to feel them contort against his it. You slid down the wall loosing yourself. Art held you up like it was no problem. A strange strength coming from him. Your eyes squinted shut momentarily trying to catch your breath.

Art continued licking until you subsided. Standing, his face covered in your juices. Oddly none of his makeup smudged. You had to find out where he bought his foundation. Hooded eyes gazed down at you. You looked so pathetic sliding into the floor in front of him. Tits rising as you panted. He pictured how your lungs looked expanding in your chest. Desire to rip you open filling his thoughts. Fading when he felt his cock throbbing.

Long digits reached out to help you to your feet. Releasing you and letting you tumble back, head hitting the cold brick. You winced when it started to ache. Silently he laughed and pointed at you. Miming you hitting your head. You scowled up at him. He definitely enjoyed your pain. Something you were too overstimulated to care about. He rolled his eyes at you when you did not laugh along with him, reaching his hand out again. Swirling his finger in a circle gesturing for you to try again.

Art pulled you flush against his chest. Stronger than anyone else you had ever been in contact with. Acting as if you weighed nothing. You fluttered your lashes up at him. Mouth hung open as you continued taking deep breaths in. Abruptly he turned you around, forcing you against the sink. Staring at him through the mirror. Watching how his hands massaged and stroked your torso in the reflection. His nose traveled from your shoulder up to your neck. Tongue coming out to lick at your throat. Pulling skin between his teeth as he sucked a deep purple bruise there. You moaned for him, loving the attention he gave to your skin. His hands gripped your chest, pulling your breasts out of your top. Cold fingertips pinched at your hardening bulbs. His eyes fixated on your chest in the mirror. Tongue traveling further up your neck until it ended behind your ear.

He was entranced by your body. Not ever taking the time to see how things changed when someone was sexually aroused. Being all too familiar with how the body acted with pure terror. Your fastening heart rate thumped against his hands. Feeling your pulse against his lips had his desires in overdrive. He could have devoured you right there. Smeared your blood all over the walls of this shit-hole bathroom. Fucked your bloodied mouth while you fought within an inch of your life to survive.

But that would not satisfy him.

Sure, your flesh ripped between his teeth would be nice. But hearing all the pathetic cries and moans you made for him was even better. The way you would whine his name was like music to his ears.

Art reached down, freeing his length from the confides of his red pants. He was swollen and leaking pre-cum. Pushing your back forward forcing you to bend over the sink. Holding yourself up with your hands as you held eye contact in the mirror. He kicked your legs apart further, making sure he could get into you. Grabbing his cock by the base and swirling it around your slick. Coating himself with you, testing the waters of how far he was willing to go. You were so warm and welcoming. He could always leave you out to dry. Just play around and never fuck you. But he needed his own release. And the way you whined his name when he dipped a little deeper his mind was made up.

Art slammed himself into you. Hands gripping your skirt upon your lower back. Watching the way your ass bounced against his cock. Wickedly grinning at the sight of him penetrating you. Tongue coming out to glaze his rotten teeth. Sound of your skin smacking mixed with your screaming moans was like music to his ears. He was relentless. Length hitting deep inside you. One of his hands tangled in your hair, arching your neck back to force you to watch in the mirror.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you called to him like a prayer each time he would sheath inside you. His long shaft stretched your entrance perfectly. You scrunched your face up and rolled your eyes back as he continued pounding into you. Mouth forming an ‘O’. Your insides spasmed around his cock as it filled you up. Art’s brows twitched with pleasure. His toothy grin was unwieldy.

His other hand gripped your ass. Nails breaking the skin as he clawed at your soft flesh. Loving how your crimson red painted your cheek. Collecting the blood on his finger tips and pressing them against your aching nub once again. Circling the sensitivity. Breath hitched in your throat as he leaned further into his grasp on your hair. Closing your eyes and screaming loudly for him. Feeling your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Art’s pace was brutal. Snapping his hips up into you. With each circle of fingers and flick of hips, you were seeing stars. Almost too drunk on cock to form sentences. Never imagining when you got dressed today your night would go like this. Lost in ecstasy of pleasure. Coil winding tighter and tighter in your stomach.

Fingers taking you to a place of pure hormonal bliss. Insides quaking and pulling him deeper. Art’s mouth shaped into an ‘O’ realizing you were cumming around his cock. Nodding with satisfaction as his dark eyes pierced into yours. Watching how drool fell out of your mouth and sweat rolled down your body.

Art pulled his fingers up, seeing the crimson red was now a softer pink. Shoving the combination of you into his mouth. Licking between his fingers like something from a porno. His shoulders relaxed as he continued fucking into you. Your entire body was shaking. Legs wobbled like they would give out on you any second.

His wet fingers rubbed at your chest. Tracing up and curling between your lips. Forcing their way into your mouth. Taking them like he wanted. He released his grip on your hair, planting the hand against your hip instead. Pinning you with his hips. Clearing chasing his own high now. Continuing to watch as he pumped his fingers into your mouth. Loving the sound of you gagging and slobbering. Feeling himself twitch inside you. His breathing picking up as he focused where he punctured you.

Watching how perfectly you sucked him in. Wanting to cum all inside you. Wanted you so filled with him you could barely walk. Knowing it would make you crave him forever. Addicted to the feeling of his seed inside you.

Hips pressed flush against yours. Shooting his white hot inside you. Coating your walls with his cum. Holding still so he could feel you milk him. He rolled his neck and leaned his head back, never having felt something this good. His chest pounded as he begged for air. Deep breaths filling his desperate lungs.

You slumped against the sink. Quivering arms and legs fighting to hold you up. Resting your head on your arms. Your cunt having been worked to its limit.

Art stood up straighter behind you. Flattening his suit down with his hands. Smiling at you in the mirror as he tucked his member back away. Waving his fingers at you.

You were unsure who this man was, but you never wanted to be apart from him.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This is only my second time writing for Art, but I sure do love writing him. Expressing his mannerisms is so fun. If you have any requests for him, please send them my way! I look forward to future Fics! //

{tags}

@l0sercat ~ @tedi28 ~ @hyperfixated-clown ~ @papispam ~ @melaninatedhorrorqueen ~ @lcvsanaa ~ @dilfismz ~ @knoepfl ~ @tuttifuckinfruttifriday ~ @spookysquids

[anundyingfidelity]

PRIMAL — Weapon X!Logan

Summary: You are right where he wants and won't escape the subject's twisted mind.

Warnings: heavy non-con smut, dark stuff, mentions of being tortured, female!reader. Read at your own risk tbh, thank you if you do though. Someone pls write more Weapon X! Logan, I'm going crazy at this point.

GEN MASTERLIST!

He has you exactly where he wants. Between the concrete and his intimidating aura. Your eyes are glossy, chest going up and down, ready to be the next victim. His last one.

You study the Weapon X subject one more time. He’s broad and muscular, strong frame with adamantium bones, claws out his knuckles as he walks to you, full in his naked glory. Stains of blood start to dry off on his chest, abdomen and shoulders. And even though in other circumstances he would make a good-looking man, he is far from being one now.

He is not human anymore, he is an animal. And you had been part of the experiments since the beginning. For some reason, he had saved you last from all the personnel of the base. A twisted and sick choice.

Logan takes the last two steps towards you, closing the distance. He can smell your fear, sense the shaking of your whole body, the beating of your heart… He had been watching you, paying special attention to you each time he could. Your voice, your silhouette, your job, your routines around the lab. Everything you did he had learned.

And now, after killing and dismantling the place, leaving a horrid trade of bodies and red around, he feels like finishing everything with you.

He doesn’t know your name, he just knows you were part of them and he fucking hates it.

How could such a pretty thing like you could bear torturing a lost soul like him? He growls at the thought, leaning until his nose is almost touching yours.

You gasp loud, the echoes of your breathing filling the empty place. Your eyes shut and you feel tears running down your cheek.

“Logan…”

He replies with a deep groan again, taking in the scent of your neck and the salty sweat covering your skin. Oh and how he loves the reactions of your body as he traces his way to the shell of your ear with his nose.

“Please… You- you’re not like this…”

Begging would do nothing, he knows it. You keep begging and begging, calling his name as he takes in the features of your face, eyes barely opening. And when you cross glances, besides the fear on your gaze, he can sense something else building on you: arousal. It’s not the first time he’s sensed it on you, but sure he will take out his own suffering and frustrations on that.

“Logan…”

Claws come close, cutting your blouse and bra off. He rips the fabric with his hands before your trousers and panties come off the same way. You squirm and cry, but don’t make any effort on pushing him away because you know he would win the same. He’s massive, stronger, and dangerous. He’s a weapon you helped to build, and compared to him, you are nothing.

Probably he will get vengeance by tearing you apart, forcing you on the smudged, cold floor. He’s all over you, not quite giving kisses but bruises with his lips and teeth on your neck, biting on your skin, legs wide as he feels your wet cunt against his hard cock.

You cry his name, more like a moan, when he forces himself inside your tight walls without any preparation. He’s animalistic, erratic, growling, almost howling, like a dog in heat.

The scratch of your nails do nothing. He pounds harder into your abused cunt, tearing an orgasm out of you. He spills himself in seconds, feeling your walls around him sucking him completely, and he continues fucking you over and over his own high, increasing the sensitive feeling between your legs. And just as you think Logan is over by how quick he keeps rutting on you, hips making an obscene noise every time he buries balls deep inside your cunt, it feels like he goes faster, harder, that it becomes too much and you cling into him with nails and loud whimpers, sore throat crying into the void.

He comes a second time with a deep moan, filling you up once again and you do nothing but take it. Slowly, he pumps his white seed into you until he fully stops inside your abused, needy pussy.

The primitive need to kill now is replaced with a more primal urge, and you would be perfect for that from now on.

[leth-writes]

yandere reader x yandere batfam

SUMMARY: yandere batfam x yandere reader

WARNINGS: 18+ as always on my blog, though the work is safe for work. Typical yandere shenanigans.

MASTERLIST 

Requests are open!

Just thinking of a yandere darling. You’re a little intense, maybe just on the creepy side of protective.

But you’re not very good at it 🙁

You’re stalking them, they’re stalking you as you stalk them, it’s a whole thing.

They honestly might be relieved. They know where you are at all times, they’ve long ago put a tracker on you, but having you always hovering around eases their worries.

Tim definitely hacks the bugs you’ve put on them, making sure you aren’t accidentally catching on to the fact they’re night-time vigilantes.

Overall, though, I can see them LOVING the trackers you try to place on them. You’re so clumsy about it anyone would notice, but they pretend not to, just so your self-esteem doesn’t get hurt.

It’s like a kitten trying to fight a tiger; the tiger’s playing, the kitten is unaware of how bad their odds are.

There’s no way you’d be able to break into the manor by yourself.

They see it as enrichment, they just… leave a single window open, on the ground floor, into a rarely used family room.

Once they catch you planting the bugs all over the room, not even bothering to make your way throughout the rest of the manor, they’ll spend more time in the room, playing up their personas.

Bruce is especially amused; he’s really playing up the ditzy Brucie persona around you, entirely so that he can get close to you without you suspecting he’s onto you.

You’re really protective over him; there’s been times you’ve been gearing up to fight some creep at a gala who won’t leave poor ol’ Brucie alone. 

He doesn’t need your help, he’s working on a case, but he appreciates it nonetheless.

It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy, knowing you’re there. Even if there’s no way you’d actually be able to deal with the types of enemies he has.

You’re like pulling him off to the side, holding his hands in yours and staring at him so determinedly, eyes blazing. “Bruce, don’t be scared to tell me if someone’s bugging you, okay? I’ll handle it.” You tell him. Internally, Bruce is cooing. When he tells the others about it later, in the privacy of the cave, they’ll do the same.

You just think he’s too soft for this world. He needs protection! He thought Mexico was a continent!

He’ll definitely pretend to be super drunk just as an excuse to lean on you, his side pressed to yours and an arm slung around your neck. He loves the way he can feel the heat of your blush.

Dick is much the same way. You’ve signed up for his gymnastics class and you’re so determined to succeed at something he loves that he just can’t help but prioritize you. Some of the other students even complain about how obvious the favoritism is. Don’t be surprised if you miraculously win free 1-on-1 lessons with him. He just loves being able to physically touch and guide you, watching how flustered you get.

Sometimes you slip in a bit of information he knows isn’t really available to the general public, just little things about his time in the circus. It makes him happy to know how much time you’ve spent researching him, even if it is pretty baseline stuff, nothing too deep. He’s just appreciating your hard work!

Jason, you have a hard time with. He doesn’t appear in public often, so you spend most of your time just watching him read in the family room. He knows you’re reading the stuff he picks out, so he deliberately chooses books he thinks you’d like. 

When it comes to Tim, he’s definitely matching your freak. You get a tracker on him, he has 3 on you. He’s discreetly watching you watch him. 

Puts on a show, makes himself seem like any naive rich kid. You’ll never see the true predator until it’s too late.

Definitely fiddles with the trackers in his spare time, he loves being reminded of how much you love him; it plays right into those deep seated insecurities left over from his biological parents.

Damian is definitely the least subtle about it. He’s not gonna pretend to be something he isn’t, and he definitely wants you to step up your game. He’ll smash the trackers until you manage to get it into a satisfactory spot.

He will absolutely refuse to spend much time in the family room; he sees it as too easy. He wants you to work to learn more about him. His past is definitely one of the harder ones to dig up.

Cass can read the desperation on you, and just befriends you. She doesn’t really put up much of an act, and just satisfies your protective instincts by listening to your ‘suggestions’ about how awful her ‘friends’ are. They’re acquaintances at best, so you aren’t really accomplishing much of anything, but she feels it’s the thought that counts.

Just imagine when you’re finally kidnapped, and they’re like Surprise! We knew the whole time!

OH MY GOD THE HUMILIATION

They’re completely different than how you thought they were, and you slowly realize you’ve made a big fucking mistake, but oh well, it’s their turn now!

[iamthetruenhaz]

I'm not going to call myself a feminist man or anything like that. But I do try to stand up to other men in daily life when they say or do something sexist against women. I try to convince them that women are human beings like them with similar issues and struggles and not some insidious foreign species that is strong and weak at the same time that should be "returned" to their rightful place.

The problem? They don't respect me and thus won't listen to me. I mean, why would they listen to a man in his thirties who has last had a relationship years ago and it was his only one which didn't start until his late twenties, who has a low-paying job, can't afford to move out and in general has slim prospects to secure what those men respect the most - successful relationships with women? Like, I don't have the credentials that would make those men listen to me, and they'll point to my "feminist" beliefs and say that's the reason.

Men that aren't close to me who act like that? To them I'm just a "pedal" (read: fag) and they see me as some kind of traitor to men or a silly bleeding heart and they'd rather listen to a woman than to me. Or usually I don't engage with them at all unless I have to talk to them.

With friends, I do call them out, I say stuff like "bro that's a fucked up things to say", "don't generalize", we have discussions at length, but because of my shall we say limited experience with women, they dismiss me as naive and idealistic, at best. They know women better, they've had experience and that, you see, justifies them being sexist. I'll grow up, they almost say, I'll see.

The only people I "get to" give a piece of advice to and have spoken to are incels-to-be because I've been in their place and not turned out an incel (I spent most of my 20s without any female attention with all the feelings of rejection and frustration that entailed).

So yeah, I'm doing what I can. I know it's not enough. But I don't know what to do anymore that's not counterproductive.

Men need other men who have faced the same issues and made the right decisions and come out on top. As in, lead a life they're content with and are feeling confident regardless of, or maybe thanks to, "feminist" choices they've made, because to many men those choices seem mutually exclusive with "true" masculinity that will leave them feeling comfortable in their own skin.

If your vision for the deradicalization of right-wing men begins and ends with "other men telling them that that's gross and to stop it" then I'm sorry, you do not understand how masculinity works.

"Men who hold patriarchal status" and "men who are feminists" are two groups who overlap less than you want them to. I'm sorry. That's not solely because men are so happy with patriarchal status that they don't want to risk it by policing misogyny/queerphobia/racism, It's because being misogynistic, queerphobic, and racist, end expressing other forms of toxic masculinity(and often abusively so) are part of how people establish and maintain patriarchal status. The men who have the ability to stop this via nothing but peer pressure are the very people who are doing it. That's by design. And engaging in feminist intervention is, in and of itself, usually the abrupt end of that status and its associated power to persuade misogynistic men.

Like, I have worked in blue collar jobs as a notably queer person. It was pretty much a constant deluge of verbal abuse. In my experience, most blue collar work environments are exploitative, abusive, and bigoted, and very gleefully so. On the occasions I have spoken up about someone saying something that was super fucking out of line (asking me which of the girls walking by was hottest. We were installing a portable classroom at a middle school), believe it or not, they completely failed to be shamed! Because nobody else on the crew gave a fuck. *I* was the weird one. They ghosted me. A full blown company ghosted me. I suddenly didn't have a job anymore because they just straightforwardly stopped telling me where the next job site was.

Like, this doesn't mean that it's your job to do it, but this vision you have of these big groups of men where everyone is on the fence and there is precisely one shit stirrer who can be shut down by a brave feminist man who can single handedly set the example for all these other guys...you are high. You are describing an "everybody clapped" level absurd scenario. Most of these truly virulent misogynistic guys either have zero friends, because, you know, our society is atomized to fuck, or they are in a group where the feminist guy is actually the weirdo who can be shut down and ostracized much, much easier than the misogynists, because there is no such thing as a man misogynists respect who stands up for women.

You might be saying "well, we're talking about longstanding personal relationships, actually. Like, they need to have to want to spend time with you and then, as a side effect, you can mind control them out of being a threat to us."

Problem with that being:

1: Many feminist men also have no friends, see the atomized society above.

2: Feminist men already stopped hanging out with men who make rape jokes because why the fuck would we want to spend time with them.

3: That isn't just because we respect women so hard. We are in many cases talking about men who are also deeply queerphobic, heirarchical, violent and abusive to other men. What initially drew me to feminism and women was a lack of heirarchical squabbling and constant bullying, and the ability to be openly queer. A lot of men who came to feminism did so because they knew that the patriarchy was not a place they would find success or acceptance. These are not the men who are gonna be able to change right wing minds.

4. Men do not view themselves as a monolith. There is no universal brotherhood of men. The actual meaning of the term "Fragile masculinity" is that men are constantly expected to prove that they are deserving of the status of being a member of their own gender. There are large swathes of men--including most of the men who you'd look to as examples of good, feminist men who you want to undertake this project--who are considered failed men, sissies, f****ts, soyboys, ect. They are. Not. Going. To. Convince. These. Men. Of. Jack. Shit. Much less successfully *shame* them. Jesus.

I know all of this sucks. I know it would be cool to be able to just point at a group and have them be responsible for the work. But nah. It's gonna have to be a societal project, one that will probably outlast all of us. Sorry. The thing you want these men to do is, absolutely, the morally correct thing to do. But presuming that it would be effective is, and once again I am so sorry about this, just ignorance of how these social groups function.

[crookedfivefingers]

3.13 | ᴛʜᴇ ʟᴀꜱᴛ ᴏꜰ ᴛʜᴇ ᴛɪᴍᴇ ʟᴏʀᴅꜱ

link to the post I accidentally wound up prattling endlessly about in the tags 💀

[hoshinasblade]

you are so close to gaslighting yourself into thinking that maybe, just maybe you have already told hoshina's mom in the past what your favorite tea is.

the problem with that thought is today was the first time you met the mother of your boyfriend.

you denied it in your head - for all you know, perhaps mrs. hoshina is just really a good at guessing. that, or you are going batshit crazy.

because at that very day, people you have met for the first time - people who may be friends with hoshina soshiro but are practically strangers to you - seem to be aware of small details about you.

captain ashiro complimented you on your blue dress after shaking your hands, saying it's obvious why it is your favorite color, emphasizing how it brings out the intensity of your eyes. even okonogi, who you know works directly with the third division's vice-captain, had a specific joyful aura on her friendly face as she offered to hang out with you in the future, mentioning how she is a fan of true crime documentaries too and suggesting in the same breath that you should try the pudding sold in the headquarter's cafeteria.

you could have let all of that go if only you did not blush like a teenager after hoshina's own older brother called you by your childhood nickname during family dinner.

"i'm sorry." hoshina's hand found yours, his thumb drawing patterns on your wrist. he knows you'd been on edge since morning, and although this is entirely your idea - meeting his friends and his family in one day - he wouldn't blame you if you're overwhelmed.

"they did their research on me or something," you tried to laugh the nerves away. it didn't work.

"ah." hoshina suddenly looked guity. " that. well -" he stopped for a moment, gathering his wits, choosing the right words to say. "i mean, it makes sense that everyone who actually knows me would know about you, really."

you wanted to joke as a response; you wanted to say that he's talkative and tends to yap for hours about stuff he loves so yes, people around him would naturally know things about you. but then you caught yourself because this is yet another confirmation of what hoshina soshiro had been telling you for months now - that you are someone he loves.

you did not know being known could feel this sweet.

"huh. do you reckon i can extort them for information about you next time?" this time it was your turn to grab hoshina's hand, and with your forefinger, you traced three little words on the warm skin of his palm.

[author's note: hello guys, i know i haven't been posting a lot anymore, but i am thankful to everyone who still remembers this blog - yes i can read your asks, yes i see that you've tagged me in a fic, yes i checked my notifications in this blog every now and then. it might take me long to respond most of the time so apologies in advance but please know that i appreciate all interactions from everyone.

also i dont need to remind you but i don't tolerate copy-pasting or reposting any of my works anywhere. i read a lot from here too, and other writers can attest to this as well - we know if a line or a paragraph from any of our works is copied and/or reworded. ]

[sibylsleaves]

The Billy Boils Breakup Anthem

rated G | 2.4k | read on ao3 “Buck thinks that dead cowboy corpse cursed him,” Eddie explains. “But I keep telling him he’s having a stress reaction.” “A stress reaction to being cursed!” Buck exclaims, turning to Chim and Hen. “Listen, this is real, okay? I did some research—Billy Boils was a real life outlaw, and he was double-crossed by his posse and left for dead. And then every single member of his posse died horrible, untimely deaths. Every single one of them! And now I’m doing to die, and I’m going to die alone just like Billy Boils!” Buck gets dumped. Then he gets cursed.

It really is just Buck’s rotten luck that he would get dumped and then cursed in the same week.

The Firehouse Haunt Fest has been such a good distraction, too. Instead of moping around and wondering what is it about him that makes both men and women want to flee, Buck had poured all his energy into making the fire station the spookiest, scariest haunted house in the city.

He should’ve known it would backfire.

“Hey, so, doc says you should be able to come back to work next shift,” Eddie says, taking his seat at Buck’s bedside. “That’s good news, right?”

“For the moment,” Buck grumbles.

Eddie raises his eyebrows. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Eddie,” Buck says emphatically. “Come on. I ripped the arm off that—that cowboy corpse and then on our very next call, my arm gets popped out of its socket. The same arm. Don’t you see what’s going on here?”

Eddie blows out a breath. “If you’re about to say what I think you’re gonna say—”

“It’s a curse!”

Eddie slaps his magazine down, craning his head back toward the ceiling. “Please, please do not start with this curse stuff.”

“Eddie, you heard what Athena said on the phone! The novelty shop burned down, the carnival was wiped out by a hurricane, and the rodeo ended after a stampede! That can’t all just be a coincidence.”

“Actually I’m pretty sure it can.”

“No way. This is all his doing—Billy Boils. I’m telling you—once he gets you in his sights…he finishes the job.”

Eddie snorts.

There’s a very short list of things that annoy Buck about Eddie. At the top of that list: his obstinate refusal to believe in curses even when they’re clearly happening right in front of his face.

(continue on ao3)

[vanya-evergreen]

𝑆𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘！

Hi, just wanted to give a little quick sneak peek on my Royal! reader X Batfamily fic, because I realized it's been a while since I've posted any writing stuff and I wanna make sure people will stay interested! it's sort of a retelling of the concept, but there's going to be new things added in and longer

You can read concept here.

𝐼𝑛ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑐𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝐹𝑙𝑒𝑠ℎ

taglist! - @camilo-uwu @vanilliona @thegirlinrainbowsworld

𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑘 𝑖𝑛 𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑔𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑠 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑡𝑖𝑡𝑙𝑒－

𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 1 （𝑆𝑛𝑒𝑎𝑘 𝑝𝑒𝑎𝑘 ）

The world had decided long ago that nothing goes without effect, good, bad, and indifferent. Every action and every motion will have an equal effect. This is the philosophy that was shoved down your throat since you could understand it. So why did you have such a big Effect?

The taps of rain on the roof was the loudest sound in the room. Sitting Idlily on the edge of the bed, your eyes stayed glued to the fire flickering in front of you. The brilliant light reflects in your eyes as it dances freely, but the fire is not the real point of your focus, no you are too lost in your mental prison. You force yourself to relive the memories and feelings, just to occupy your time. Your eyes can’t help but drift to the newspapers chaotically scattered across the floors; “Tyranny’s Last Remnant’ is what the newspapers had dubbed you.

The media had spent the months since your family’s imprisonment to tear you down ruthlessly. They say that you still lead a life of luxury and opulence because you weren’t punished like the rest of your family. Your eyes snap back to the fire, letting go of the breath stuck in your throat. you fall limply back onto the bed, as it creaks. The room around you was not a good reflection on in light of the accusation against you but you had no control of the room.

You wanted to hate the new place that you are meant to call home, but you couldn't even utter a complaint about it. You let these thoughts drift to the back of your mind. They weren’t nearly as loud as your memories.

You are stuck in a never ending cycle of self reflection that comes with your predicament. Maybe if your were more honest maybe you could see that you put yourself there. Everything you around is nothing but static. Your hands desperately grasp for the sheets of the bed, you no longer can feel them. Your mind races as your breathes grow shallow and slow. A sinking feeling takes over your body as your consciousness fades. You are sent off in your memories as the rain and fire grow into nothing but a quiet whisper.

When you come back to awareness, you no longer feel sheets of silk covering a plush mattress on your back, nor are you surrounded by the high walls of your room. Rather rounded stones of a river banks press in to your back as steady streams of spring water wash over you. When you open your eyes, you find that the water is not clear but rather unearthly cosmic colors whirling around as they rush over you and the stones are not a soothing gray but a chilling black, with your skies and ground bleeding into each other making them one in the same.

An empty laugh escapes your lips echoing in the empty space you always find yourself in, you want to feel something more but you felt too tired. All you can do is recall, back to the times when if you had even barely uttered of a complain it was dealt before you could even think again. You were pacified with gifts, territories, and new subjects to learn about. This was expected with being a royal, as your family had put it. They had found solace from their so-called stressful lives among material possessions, and it seemed as you would have to as well. You were always grateful for the lessons and gifts, but never once had they actually filled your deepest desire. Your deepest craving,

unconditional familial love. You yearned for it, yet it never came

You are ripped from your thoughts as a coldness washes over you. no longer surrounded by streams of spring water running over your almost lifeless body, you feel specs of snow and hell slowly beginning to cover you consuming you and your entirety as you fall deeper into the memory.

Echos of muffled hiccups and sniffles bounced off of the empty sumptuous palace halls. A child held they hands over their mouth, a weak attempt to silence their cries as they balled themselves up in the corner. They looked no older than 5, yet the way their face felt like they had seen the worst atrocities in this world could make you think other wise. You recognized the eyes without fail, it was you. You recognize this day, too. This horrid day.

Bells tolled in the distance startling you out of your ‘daydream’, not that they were in your mind to begin with. You didn’t move from your corner, you never wanted to move again. Your sobs becomes quieter as your tears dried, the bells continued on as servants rushed back and forth past you. They never once looked your way, as you lifted your eyes from your knees. They all looked panicked about something. Talking in quick whispers, they mumbled about ‘must find’ and an ‘heir’. You kept quiet as about a dozen more passed you, not even sparring a glance to you.

Eventually you got bored of the Methodic foot steps of the passer-by, you rested your head against the windows as the whispers and foot steps become distant as the bells finish their final course of rings. Back then, you thought it was funny how the bells still rang even well after the turn of the hour. Normally it was saved for the founders day and the rulers birthday; now you wish you had ran back then.

You had settled back into your abyss of deafening silence; staring out the window with distant eyes as the snow waltzed down from the cloudy skies above, but a looming figure watched you from a distance. You had become a perspective child, you felt their eyes on you when they first started staring. You didn’t want to pay any mind to that, ‘maybe they will go away if I don’t look for them’ is what you thought. The figure never looked away, the presence of the stare only grew more intensely focused on your unmoved figure.

You hadn’t move to look at the figure, you were lost in your thoughts, but the burning sensation intensified in your chest and began to crawl in to your hand and up your throat you knew they had drew closer to you. You whipped your head around to the figure, finally giving to what you thought the they wanted.

“Hello” the figure, now more clearly a man, softly said to you, as he kneeled down to your eyes level with a soft smile etched on to his face with warm gaze that accompanied it.

You were taken back by the man’s soft demeanor, the burning in your body had disappear the moment you saw his eyes. “Hi…” you stumble over your words as you were still to focused on how warmth from his gaze felt so unfamiliar yet, you had never wanted something to continue more.

“I am Bruce Wayne.” He offer out a hand to you, and you to reached out to take it but stopped yourself from taking it. Oh, You remembered that name from a list your parents had educated you on. His eyebrow creased and his smile fell as you retracted your hand.“Are you okay?”

Your parents said that with him especially to be more mindful of your actions because he was very important to your family, they warned you of the effect you may have. You always abided by the philosophy your were taught. “Yes” you hurriedly standing up and greeted him with a shallow bow, try your best not to trip over your feet. “Excuse me for my response,” you held an even voice as you rose up from the bow, keeping a straight back. “I am _ __, it is my pleasure to meet you, Sir Bruce” He was richer then your family and held no official titles, the King and Queen had offered him a dukedom when his company had helped the empire through a drought, but he turned it down.

“It is a pleasure to meet you as well, your highness.” His smile returned quickly after you exchanged greetings. You gave him a look when he said ‘Your Highness’.

“I am sorry Sir Bruce, but I think you have addressed me wrong. I am not a child of a current or pervious monarch.” You politely corrected him. He looked put off by the correction, you hurried to correct your act “what I meant was-” you were stopped short by him

“No, it’s okay. It was my mistake.” He seemed to relax as he watched you stumble over your word like any five year old child should. “I seem to have confused honorifics once again," He laughs "I hope that you excuse me I am still new to society.” You couldn’t help but feel a small flames of kinship burn in your heart as he spoke.

“I am too!” You blurted, eyes glistened with a hint of excitement. “Today is my first official day in society, or that's what my mom said.”

“Oh really?” Bruce tilled his head, rubbing his chin as if he wasn’t aware of it “Why today?”

“I don’t know,” you voice became hushed. You hadn’t stopped to think about it for long, you were just a kid excited to see new people.

“Perhaps, we can figure it out together.” Bruce stood up and offered his hand to you once again. You stared at his hand, something in your little mind started to itch. You took his hand with out hesitation this time.

“I would like that.” You gave him a small smile as he lead you down the hall.

You and Bruce spent the better part of an hour talking about many things as you roam the cold palace grounds. You hadn’t even noticed the larger amount of guards pacing the halls looking for something, while they mutter about being punished for ‘losing someone’. You were too distracted by the feeling your heart and head screamed for you to focus solely on Bruce. You weren’t sure what it was then, but you never wanted to let it go.

He seemed impressed by your knowledge, you could see glints of fascination in his eyes, as it absorbed his mind. You were a well educated child, even at this age, as it seemed. He indulged you with many different topics, from the basics of favorite color and animal to astronomy, science and literature. It was bliss for you.

But it would end for you.

“What about your family?” Bruce’s question was innocent enough, any reasonable adult would ask about your family. “Are they looking for you?”

[submissivegayfrenchboy2]

11 / 11 / 2024

PERSONAL FICTIVE STORY

- GREG'S POOPS -

Handsome high school student Greg had a weak stomach, which was his only weakness. This tall, blond athlete was the king of the school, quite simply because he was the most muscular. Everyone was afraid of him. Well, the nerds and the losers, yes, because the other sporty guys were his friends. In addition to a loser who did his homework in all subjects (each of Greg's friends had a homework slave per subject), Greg also had bag carriers who had to wait for him at his yard with his stuff ready. What is certain is that the nerds live under the dictatorship of Greg, the sadistic bully.

Yes, every day, after lunch, a loser is "fed". He gives Greg his share of meals to help him gain extra strength, and in exchange Greg feeds the losers by forcing them to eat his shit. Each month, a calendar, prepared by a loser gifted in organization, is sent to each loser in high school so that they know what day and what time they will have to go eat Greg's shit. While Greg eats with his friends in the high school cafeteria, surrounded by losers who serve them, a nerd has to wait for his "meal".

Today it was Mark's turn, a typical nerd with glasses. He did not go to the cafeteria but waited in a bathroom stall.

Two friends of Greg, the king of high school, were waiting for him. They led him into the bathroom stall where Greg would come to shit later. He was forced to kneel in front of the bowl, waiting before eating.

Several minutes later, Greg came in to shit. His two friends were able to go to the cafeteria to eat, while two other friends guarded the bathroom doors, preventing anyone from coming to piss or shit while Greg was there. He paid little attention to the loser who was waiting headlong. Greg pulled down his pants, farted several times in the loser's face, which made him laugh, and sat down before starting to push to make his poop fall out.

At one point Greg was having so much trouble pushing to get his shit down that he leaned on the face of the nerd in front of him. The nerd tried not to think about the fact that Greg had just scratched his balls and ass, and that his face and hair would retain that smell: being touched by Greg was considered an honor for nerds, it was forbidden for them to clean their face if Greg had spit, burped or farted in their face. All of these victims lived in constant fear that this large, muscular, violent straight white male would strike them.

The toilet faggot would sometimes hold Greg's phone so he could watch a video while shitting or masturbating a little. Sometimes the loser had to read to Greg to distract him, sing a song to relax him (a song glorifying his praises), and if the faggot was cute, suck Greg's cock while he shit.

When Greg was done shitting, he turned his big, round, muscular ass towards Mark's face: the asshole was still shitty, and in any case Mark had to clean Greg's asshole with his tongue. Mark prayed that the same thing wouldn't happen to Stan two weeks ago.

Stan had been "fed" too, but had probably gotten shit in his face when Greg turned his ass towards him, and farted in his face. Stan then spent the rest of the day with shit in his face, provoking ridicule from his comrades. Not allowed to wash himself if he wanted to avoid being hit by Greg and/or his friends, Stan had chosen to smear the shit on his face and in his hair, making the teachers believe that he had received dirt in the face.

Since Stan, nerds have been dreading Greg's ass licking moment. Mark licked around the anus quickly to avoid an impatient Greg from pushing his face into his big shitty ass to wipe himself on it, which would have resulted in Mark's face being covered in shit. The speed of Mark's licking was interpreted by Greg as a sign of enthusiasm, while Mark only wanted to be quick to get it over with as quickly as possible.

Then, on his bully's command, Mark stuck his tongue into Greg's anus to make sure his stinky hole was clean. Once Greg's ass crack was cleaned, Mark was forced to thank Greg for "his meal." Mark looked at his "meal", and turned to Greg smiling and said "Hmmm Your poops are so huge, Mr. Greg! I've never seen them this big! That's a real man's shit ! They look delicious, the color is brighting ! The smell is appetizing! Thank you very much for this good, nourishing meal, mister Greg !”. Mark didn't think a word of it, but the more cheating a faggot, the less violent Greg was.

Greg dropped drops of piss on Mark's hair and a little in his mouth. So he went out and his friends stayed to watch the toilets. They would leave when they had proof that Mark had eaten everything. Indeed, Greg shit in a paper plate placed just above the water in the bowl, so that the nerds would eat "pure" droppings, that is to say those which were not mixed with the bowl's water.

The plate, once the droppings had been swallowed, had to be completely white at the end of the “meal”. One of Greg's two friends was guarding the bathroom door and another was watching the faggot. Added to the disgust at the smell and taste of Greg's enormous droppings was the pressure of speed, because Greg's friends were merciless. They shouted insults at the fags, kicked them in the butt to see them suffer or gave them the number of minutes they had left.

"I don't just have to watch over a faggot's lunch! Eat your lunch faster, fag ! Come on, this delicious shit doesn't have to be so difficult to eat! Why are you crying? Your god Greg gave fed you, he is generous and could have let your starve!” : these are the kind of sentences the fags heard while they swallowed the long, thick stinking turds of the king of high school.

In short, eating Greg's huge droppings was far from being a moment of joy for losers. None of them wanted to eat all day, the droppings were so long and thick.

In short, eating Greg's huge droppings was far from being a moment of joy for losers. None of them wanted to eat all day, the droppings were so long and thick. It felt like I had eaten an entire chocolate cake, but it tasted terrible. If some fags experienced these moments as torture and cried, others understood that Greg and his friends would stop humiliating them if they pretended to feel pleasure from eating his shit. Indeed, Greg did not want to feed them his droppings for their pleasure.

Thus, we saw fags begging Greg on their knees, alone or in groups, to be able to eat his shit. This made Greg and his friends laugh, but they ignored the fags, who at least avoided being hit by this already very muscular man for his young age, or by him and his friends at the same time. All the other queers prayed they wouldn't end up at the same university as Greg and his friends.

END OF STORY

.................................................................................

HISTOIRE FICTIVE PERSONNELLE

- LES CROTTES DE GREG -

Le beau lycéen Greg avait un estomac fragile, ce qui était son seul défaut. Ce grand sportif blond était le roi de l'école, tout simplement car il était le plus musclé. Tout le monde avait peur de lui. Enfin, les intellos et les losers, oui, car les autres mecs sportifs étaient ses amis. Ce qui est sûr, c'est que les intellos vivent sous la dictature de Greg, qui fait partie d'eux.

Oui, chaque jour, après le déjeuner, un loser est "nourri". Il donne sa part de repas à Greg afin de lui permettre de prendre des forces supplémentaires, et en échange Greg nourrit les losers en les obligeant à manger sa merde. Chaque mois, un calendrier, préparé par un loser doué en organisation, est transmis à chaque loser du lycée pour qu'il sache à quel jour et quelle heure il devra aller manger la merde de Greg. Pendant que Greg mange avec ses amis à la cafétéria du lycée, entouré de losers qui les servent, un intello doit attendre son "repas".

Aujourd'hui, c'était le tour de Mark, un intello à lunettes. Il ne s'est pas rendu à la cafétéria mais a été attendre dans une cabine de toilettes. Deux amis de Greg, le roi du lycée, l'attendaient. Ils l'ont conduit dans la cabine de toilettes où Greg viendrait chier tout à l'heure. Il a été obligé de s'agenouiller face à la cuvette, patientant avant de manger. Plusieurs minutes plus tard, Greg est arrivé pour chier. Ses deux amis ont pu aller à la cafétéria pour manger, tandis que deux autres amis gardaient les portes des toilettes, empêchant quiconque de venir pisser ou chier tant que Greg y était. Celui-ci n'accorda que peu d'attention au loser qui attandait tête baissée.

Greg a baissé son pantalon, a pété plusieurs fois de suite sur le visage du loser, ce qui le fit rire, et s'est assis avant commencer à pousser pour faire tomber ses crottes. À un moment, il avait tellement de mal à pousser pour faire tomber sa merde qu'il s'est appuyé sur le visage du nerd en face de lui. Le nerd essaya de ne pas penser au fait que Greg venait de se gratter les couilles et le cul, et que son visage et ses cheveux allaient conserver cette odeur : être touché par Greg était considéré comme un honneur pour les nerds, il leur était interdit de se nettoyer le visage si Greg leur avait craché, roter ou péter au visage.

Toutes ces victimes vivaient dans la peur constante que ce grand mâle blanc hétérosexuel musclé et violent ne les frappe. En plus d'un loser qui faisait ses devoirs dans toutes les matières (chacun des amis de Greg disposait d'un esclave de devoirs par matière), Greg avait aussi des porteurs de sacs qui devaient l'attendre à son cour avec ses affaires prêtes.

Le pédé des toilettes pouvait parfois tenir le téléphone de Greg pour qu'il regarde une vidéo tout en chiant ou en se masturbant un peu. Parfois le loser devait faire la lecture à Greg pour le distraire, chanter une chanson pour le détendre (une chanson glorifiant ses louanges), et si le pédé était mignon, sucer la bite de Greg pendant qu'il chiait. Quand Greg eut fini de chier, il tourna son gros cul rond et musclé vers le visage de Mark : le trou du cul était encore merdeux, et dans tous les cas Mark devait nettoyer le trou du cul de Greg avec sa langue. Mark priait pour qu'il n'arrive pas la même chose qu'à Stan il y a deux semaines.

Stan avait été "nourri" lui aussi, mais avait vraisemblablement reçu de la merde au visage au moment où Greg avait tourné son cul vers lui, et lui avait pété au visage. Stan avait alors passé le reste de la journée avec de la merde au visage, provoquant les moqueries de ces camarades. N'ayant pas le droit de se laver s'il voulait éviter d'être frappé par Greg et/ou ses amis, Stan avait choisi d'étaler la merde sur son visage et dans ses cheveux, faisant croire aux professeurs qu'il avait reçu de la terre en plein visage. Depuis Stan, les nerds redoutaient le moment du léchage de cul de Greg.

Mark a léché le contour de l'anus rapidement afin d'éviter que Greg, impatient, n'enfonce son visage dans son gros cul merdeux pour s'essuyer dessus, ce qui aurait eu pour conséquence de recouvrir le visage de Mark de merde. La rapidité du léchage de Mark fut interprété par Greg comme une marque d'enthousiasme, alors que Mark voulait être rapide pour en finir au plus vite. Puis, sur ordre de Greg, il mit sa langue dans l'anus de Greg afin de s'assurer que son trou puant soit propre.

Une fois la raie du cul de Greg nettoyée, Mark a été obligé de remercier Greg pour "son repas". Mark a regarde son "repas", et s'est retourné vers Greg en souriant et dit "Hummm Vos crottes sont tellement énormes, monsieur Greg ! Je n'en ai jamais vu des aussi grosses ! Ce sont celles d'un vrai homme, c'est sûr ! Elles ont l'air délicieuses, leur odeur est appétissante et leur couleur est brillante ! Merci beaucoup pour ce bon repas nourrissant, monsieur Greg !".

Mark n'en pensait pas un mot mais plus un pédé était faltteur et moins Greg était violent. Greg a laissé tomber des gouttes de pisse sur les cheveux de Mark et un peu dans sa bouche. Alors, Greg est sorti et ses amis sont restés surveiller les toilettes. Ils partiraient quand ils auraient la preuve que Mark avait tout mangé. En effet, Greg chiait dans une assiette en carton placé juste au-dessus de l'eau de la cuvette, afin que les nerds mangent des crottes "pures", c'est-à-dire qui ne soient pas mélangées à l'eau de la cuvette. L'assiette, une fois les crottes avalées, devait être entièrement blanche à la fin du "repas".

Un des deux amis de Greg gardait la porte des toilettes et un autre surveillait le pédé. Au dégoût suscité par l'odeur et le goût des énormes crottes de Greg s'ajoutait la pression de la rapidité, car les amis de Greg étaient impitoyables. Ils criaient aux pédés des insultes, leur donner des coups de pieds dans les fesses pour les voir souffrir ou alors leur donner le nombre de minutes qu'il leur restait. "Je n'ai pas que ça à faire de surveiller le repas d'un pédé ! Mange ton déjeuner plus vite ! Allez, cette bonne merde ne soit pas être si difficile à manger ! Pourquoi tu pleures ? Ton dieu Greg t'a donné à manger, il est généreux !" : voici le genre de phrases que les pédés entendaient pendant qu'ils avalaient les longues et épaisses crottes puantes du roi du lycée.

Bref, manger les immenses crottes de Greg était loin d'être un moment de joie pour les losers. Aucun d'eux n'avaient plus envie de manger de toute la journée, tellement les crottes étaient longues et épaisses. Cela donnait l'impression d'avoir mangé un gâteau au chocolat entier, mais avec un goût immonde. Si certains pédés vivaient ces moments comme de la torture et pleuraient, d'autres avaient compris que Greg et ses amis arrêteraient de les humilier s'ils faisaient semblant d'éprouver du plaisir à manger sa merde. En effet, Greg ne voulait pas les nourrir de ses crottes pour leur plaisir.

Ainsi, l'on vit des pédés suppliaient Greg à genoux, seul ou à plusieurs, de pouvoir manger sa merde. Cela faisait rire Greg et ses amis, mais ils ignoraient les pédés, qui au moins éviter d'être frappés par ces jeunes hommes déjà très musclés pour leur âge. Tous les autres pédés priaient pour ne pas se retrouver dans la même université que Greg et ses amis.

FIN DE L'HISTOIRE

[knottedhearts]

Q&A: C.S

The soft hum of the camera turning on filled the quiet room as you and Chris sat side by side on his couch, the glow of the ring light casting a warm, flattering light over both of you. It had been ages since he posted anything on his personal YouTube channel, and today was the day he finally decided to pick it back up. The two of you had agreed to film a Q&A session, answering questions from his fans who had been eagerly awaiting his return to the platform.

Chris was fiddling with his phone, scrolling through the questions his followers had sent in. He looked over at you with a grin, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "Alright," he said, turning to the camera and giving a thumbs up. "It’s been a while, but let’s kick this off. First question…"

He glanced down at his phone, brows furrowing slightly as he read. "Okay, this one’s… interesting." He paused for effect, clearly teasing you, before reading aloud. "'Have you guys had sex?'"

You froze for a second, then burst out laughing, your face going bright red. "Oh my god," you groaned, shaking your head. "Seriously?"

Chris leaned back, his smirk turning into a full-blown grin. "I mean, we are answering questions, right?" He gave a playful shrug, looking at you with that signature, mischievous glint in his eyes. "Not that it's anyone’s business, but we’re here to have fun, right?"

You covered your face with your hands, still laughing. "This is what I get for agreeing to this. I swear your followers are crazy."

Chris’s laughter joined yours, and it was hard to tell whether the question was funny or just absurd. But the chemistry between the two of you made it all feel lighthearted, and it was easy to fall into the rhythm of answering questions while sharing inside jokes.

You took a deep breath, wiping tears of laughter from your eyes. "Alright, alright. Next question before we get any more weird ones." You reached for your phone and skimmed through the list of submitted questions. "Let’s see… Here’s a cute one. 'What’s your favorite thing about each other?'"

Chris looked over at you, his smile softening. "Honestly? It's how we can just hang out and not even have to do anything and still have a great time. Like, we’re always on the same wavelength." He chuckled. "And how you always make me laugh. You’re like the funniest person I know."

Your heart gave a little skip, the warmth in his voice making you smile. You shrugged casually, acting nonchalant, but you could feel the fondness in his words. "Well, you’re pretty funny yourself. I guess it’s why we get along so well. But I’ll admit, you do have that charm that makes everything feel more fun."

He nudged you playfully with his elbow, then turned back to the camera. "Next one, I think we can all guess this one… 'Do you two ever fight?'"

You snorted, laughing at how predictable that question was. "Oh, definitely. We’re not perfect. We argue, we bicker, but it’s nothing too serious." You glanced at Chris and made a face. "Mostly about silly stuff, like when he steals the last slice of pizza."

Chris raised an eyebrow, smirking. "It was one slice. And you didn’t call dibs."

You pointed at him, laughing again. "You always steal it and then act like it’s no big deal!"

Chris winked, turning to the camera. "Hey, you snooze, you lose."

You shook your head, rolling your eyes dramatically. "You’re impossible."

As the conversation flowed, you and Chris went through a handful of questions, answering with a mix of humor, honesty, and a little bit of teasing. The questions ranged from the goofy to the sentimental, but no matter what was asked, it was easy to feel at ease with Chris by your side.

Eventually, Chris read the next question with a slight hesitation, his grin widening as he glanced over at you. "Okay… another weird one," he said, drawing it out for dramatic effect. "You ready?"

You squinted at him, already dreading what might come next. "Just read it, Chris."

He cleared his throat, pretending to be serious, and read, "'Do you ever have matching outfits?'"

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment before bursting out laughing. "That’s it? That’s the weird question you were hyping up?"

Chris grinned widely. "You’re telling me you didn’t think about this one? I thought you two would rock a couple’s costume for Halloween or something."

You couldn’t help but laugh at the thought. "You know, that wouldn’t be the worst idea, actually."

Chris rolled his eyes but was clearly entertained by your suggestion. "Alright, let’s get back to the real questions, shall we?"

The next few questions were just as random, but you couldn’t stop laughing—"Do you think you’re both cute?" "Do you ever argue over the TV remote?" and, of course, the classic "Who is the better cook?" (You both agreed it was Chris, but you liked to pretend it was a tie to make him laugh.)

As you both read through the questions, the time seemed to slip away, the easy back-and-forth between you and Chris making the whole process feel like fun instead of work. Every time you’d tease him or crack a joke, you’d catch him looking at you with that smile, and it was impossible not to feel like the luckiest person in the world.

Eventually, you wrapped up the video, both of you laughing at the absurdity of some of the questions. As the camera shut off, Chris turned to you with a grin. "Well, that wasn’t so bad, right?"

You grinned back, leaning over and bumping him playfully with your shoulder. "Yeah, it was pretty fun. Even if your followers are a little… intense."

Chris chuckled, throwing his arm around your shoulder casually as he stood up. "You love it. You know you do."

You shook your head, still laughing as you followed him toward the kitchen. "You’re ridiculous," you muttered, but you couldn’t stop smiling. It was moments like this—simple, goofy, and filled with easy camaraderie—that made everything feel perfect.

[dazzlerwriting]

call me & i’ll come

robert ‘bob’ floyd x singer!reader

Pictures are not mine, credit to pinterest!

3.5k words

summary: inspired by “Watermelon” by Jane + John Q Public. after bob joins a D&D campaign to make friends in San Diego, he gets talked into also joining the band that is formed within the group. Over time he and the lead singer slowly get closer and closer. What happens when they kiss, but don’t talk about what the kiss meant to them?

warnings: slight miscommunication! fluff fluff fluff. a bit angsty at one point. the end gets a bit heated so 18+ MDNI!!!! Reader uses she/her pronouns, but theres no other descriptors! petname “darlin” is used twice. use of y/n (i tried so hard not to lol) flashback is bold and italicized

authors note: first off, thank you @lewmagoo for posting about drummer rhett, which in turn helped inspire this story! & everyone posting their Atta Boy stuff was also a huge inspiration to this!! only my second fic and i wrote so much. i just kept going and didnt stop until it was finished! im so sorry lmao. but i hope you enjoy!! this is mostly from bob’s pov!

Bob Floyd has a secret. Well, two. The first one is that he plays in a band in his free time, specifically, he plays the drums. Anyone who may watch how Bob acts when he thinks no one is paying attention, they would see him drumming on his lap, on the desk, or on any free surface. But the Dagger Squad isn’t that astute when it comes to their fellow workers lives. Natasha knows but, there’s a certain trust to be had between a pilot & their WSO. So Bob told her, and while she was taken a bit aback that the quiet Bob Floyd played the drums in an actual band, she was supportive.

Now, the secret that not even Natasha knows, the one Bob would swear he would take to his grave, is that he has a crush on the lead singer in their band. It's not just a silly crush that would go away with time; no, this crush has stuck since he first met her at a community D&D meetup.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Flashback

He saw a sign that read “New Dungeons and Dragons campaign, starting Wednesday! All leveled players welcomed!” on the board at the grocery store a week after being stationed in San Diego. He decided he needed a creative outlet after work and maybe to make friends that weren’t pilots. So he went, and that’s when he saw her. She was their Game Master and she was wearing a renaissance faire-esque outfit. From that first sighting, he was a goner. He would look at her theatrical storytelling during their sessions with a fondness that rivaled the way Orpheus looked at Euridyce. Quickly he would look away before she caught him, but if he had kept looking, he would have noticed her looking at him the same way.

Somewhere along the way, another member of the party, named Blake, noticed Bob drumming on his thigh when the game would die down for a bit. They suggested Bob joined their band, seeing as they were in desperate need of a new drummer, the last one leaving to hit it big time. He went on a whole spill about everything having to do with the band and Bob was apprehensive at first, performing was way out of his comfort zone. He wasn’t like Rooster, he didn’t think he had the proper stage presence to perform for a crowd, and he didn’t want to make a fool of himself.

But that’s when she walked over to the two, a smirk on her face as she looked at Blake and said “Blake… go easy on Bobby boy here. I’m sure he doesn’t need a whole infomercial on why he should join us.” She turned to Bob and put her hand on his arm, and for a second he was sure his brain short-circuited. Now with a soft smile on her face, she gently said “Bob we would love for you to join us, only if you’re comfortable. I know you could be called away at a second’s notice, but regardless it would be an honor to have you as our drummer.” He sat there for a second just taking her in, from the casual way she was dressed, to her kind demeanor. He realized at that moment he was royally fucked because he would do anything she asked. He looked her in the eyes and responded “I-I’ll do it,” stuttering a bit but getting through it. Her smile widened, her eyes lit up with what Bob thought could be adoration, and she jumped up a bit clapping, “Great! We rehearse every Saturday, usually, gigs are small just hangouts for friends or family! I’ll text you all the details.” He missed the warmth from her hand as soon as it was gone but her reaction was worth it. That night while Bob was getting ready to sleep, his phone lit up with a text.

Y/N: Thank you for agreeing to this Bob, it truly means a lot. I’m glad you decided to come to our session that first night :)

And after replying, he fell asleep with a grin on his face, not regretting his decision one bit.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Now after a few months, Bob and the rest of the members have gotten close. They hang out outside of rehearsal and game sessions, and they’ve even been to Bob’s apartment for dinner. That’s when he told Natasha that he was in a band, and introduced them to her. They had a great night and Bob felt like he had found his group of people. The thought of leaving them for a mission, where the outcome was unknown, was scary, but the idea of having them all there to come back to, outweighed the formidable thoughts. Especially when he thought about the kind, charming, and beautiful singer who made it her mission to text Bob every day to ensure he was having a good day. Over the few months they had learned a lot about each other, she made sure to ask him the same questions he would ask her. Including dreams, they had as kids, favorite movies, biggest music inspirations, etc. He opened up to her about the constant teasing from the Dagger Squad, including the “Baby on Board” joke. And he learned she was the biggest nerd outside of D&D, texting him updates on the latest comic she had read, the newest Doctor Who update, and random fun facts about his favorite movies. With every text he received, Bob fell deeper and deeper into Cupid’s chokehold.

It all kinda got turned upside down when he and Phoenix suffered from a Bird Strike during training, and they had to eject. Early morning, after leaving the hospital and getting home, he texted the band group chat to let them know he would be missing both D&D and band practice. He was bombarded with questions regarding his well-being, and texts lending out sympathy to him. But y/n had been quiet, that is until he heard a knock on his door. When he opened it, he saw her standing there with several bags full of groceries and a shy smile on her face. “Hi,” she said softly “I’m sorry for the intrusion but I just wanted to make sure your recovery was a stress-free time, and well, I just, I’m sorry I can drop all this off and go if you want me to. I should’ve texted beforehand and I..” she was rambling now and he thought he couldn’t find her any more endearing than he did right now. He adjusted his glasses and stepped out of the doorway, “N-no come on in, you are welcome here at any time, you know that.” At that, her shoulders dropped a bit in relief and he could see her let out a breath he doubted she knew she was holding in. He led her to the kitchen and watched her get to work doing whatever she was here to do.

“Okay so I have the stuff to make baked potato soup, Alfredo, and I also brought peanuts, chips, Gatorade, and a bunch of other snacks for you.” She quickly got everything out of the bags, putting things in the right place, and Bob was hit with a daydream of this being a normal occurrence. A domestic life with her, both of them dancing around each other in the kitchen, making dinner while dancing to songs like “I’ll Be Seeing You” by Billie Holiday. He was so caught up with his daydream, he didn’t even realize she was talking to him. “I’m sorry what did you say?” He asked with a bashful smile. She shook her head with a gentle laugh, and said “I was just saying you should go get comfortable, I’ll be in here for a while.” He looked at her and gave a soft nod, immediately going to lie down on the couch and continue his daydreaming. For a while, he could hear her gentle hums coming from the kitchen, and he let that lull him into a peaceful sleep where he dreamed of a future where they were together.

A few hours later he was woken up by someone gently shaking his shoulder. He rubbed his eyes, put his glasses on, and when he looked to see who it was, he swore he was still dreaming. She looked almost angelic standing above him with a caring smile and a bowl of something in her hands. “Sorry to wake you, it just hit 4, so I thought you might be hungry,” she gave a soft shrug and looked a bit nervous to see what his reaction might be. He took the bowl from her hands and gave a soft thank you with a smile he hoped was kind, and not some kind of grimace from still being a bit tired. He realized it was baked potato soup and he had to admit it was the best soup he had ever had, “This is amazing, thank you so much.” She gave another shrug and replied “It’s the least I can do, need our best sorcerer and drummer to get better soon! I put the rest in the fridge along with the Alfredo. The snacks are still on your island, but I should get out of your hair now. If you need anything please know I am a call away.” He really didn’t want her to leave just yet so he did something that even shocked him, “Do you want to stay, I’m sure you’re hungry as well and we could watch a movie or something?” Her eyes widened and a bright smile appeared on her face, “I would love to if you really don’t mind.” Of course, he didn’t mind, was she crazy?? If he could he would spend all of his time with her. “I don’t, please you’ve done so much for me today so please stay.” He didn’t mean to sound so needy, but it didn’t seem to deter her. In fact, her smile got brighter and she nodded her head.

They decided on watching Wall-E, it seemed like a good idea at the moment, but now they are both sniffling on the couch. “God who knew a cute robot could turn two adults into an emotional mess?” she said while turning to him, wiping the tears from under her eyes. He looked at her and she was gorgeous he thought. They sat looking in each other’s eyes for a moment and in a flash, their lips were on each other. He doesn’t know who leaned in first, all he knew was her lips were soft and he could feel her breath from her nose. As soon as it started, it was over and he chased her lips when she pulled away. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I’m so- I’m gonna go. Thank you Bob.” she rushed out, quickly grabbed her stuff, and practically ran from his apartment. He sat there dumbfounded, had he messed it up so quickly? Did she not like him in the same way he did her? He didn’t know, he kept wondering what happened while putting things away, and he fell asleep asking himself what happened.

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

A few weeks have passed, and things have gone semi-back to normal. There’s an awkward tension between them every session, every band practice, and the texts from her have stopped outside of letting him know of any changes to the schedule. Natasha could tell something was going on with her backseater, but he wouldn’t budge. He just told her it was nothing and that he was fine. But anyone with any common sense could see he wasn’t fine, he was distracted at work, he didn’t have the band members over for dinner, and he just seemed lost in thoughts every time someone talked to him at Hard Deck. But Natasha wasn’t having it, so she contacted Y/N, she told her Bob was acting strange. Y/N let her know what happened, and that she felt as if the kiss had only happened because Bob was emotional. She also let it slip to Nat that she had been harboring a crush on Bob since they first met, and despite trying to ignore it, it continued to grow. Nat told her the band should perform at the Hard Deck that weekend, and Y/N agreed only if Bob was okay with it. She texted Bob and he decided it was time to overcome the fear of the Dagger Squad knowing he was in a band. If he couldn’t overcome the fear of telling her how he felt, and how the kiss made him feel, then he could at least do this. And so it was set, the group would be performing at the Hard Deck, and Bob let that distract him from whatever else he was feeling at the time.

Saturday finally came, and Bob was a ball of nerves. He was sure the squad wouldn’t be too harsh towards him, but when it came to Hangman, he could never tell. When he arrived at the bar to do sound checks, he saw her again and a bit of his nerves calmed. She looked at him with a gentle but nervous smile “Hey Bob, glad you made it. We’re just gonna run through a few songs, and then we’ll get going with the show. I also brought a new song, it’s not too much but it will be the last song for the night.” He nodded his head, a bit lost in her eyes. He pushed his glasses up a bit and got his drums set up. After sound check, people started filling in the bar. Nat came up to him with a bit of a smirk, “I know about your kiss with Miss Gorgeous Singer up there.” She then lightly punched his arm, “Why wouldn’t you tell me, Bob? This is important information and I thought we were best friends.” She had a faux pout on her lips now and he shrugged, “I don’t know what happened Nat, it was going so well and then she just ran out.” He looked down, twirling his drumsticks, and she realized he was quite upset. She’s guessing the two idiots haven’t even talked about it. “I’m sorry Bob, but hey maybe things will work out after tonight,” she said with a comforting smile. It was at that moment, Jake, Javy, Bradley, and Mickey realized it was their own “Baby on Board” on the drums for tonight.

“Well well well, what do we have here?” Jake said with his usual smirk on his face. “Cut it bagman.” Natasha quickly replied, she realized it was time for the band to start so she gave Bob a final comforting smile, then quickly pushed Jake and the rest of the guys back.

You got on stage and introduced the band. The show started and everything was going well. Bob was keeping up, concentrating hard and using the quick time between songs to push his glasses up his nose. Finally it was time for the new song, and he was a bit nervous, seeing as they hadn’t rehearsed it yet. He heard you clear your throat as you said “Hey y’all, this last song is a new one I wrote about a week ago. Sometimes you just meet someone and realize you will always be there for them no matter what.” With that, you looked back to the group and nodded to let them know it was time to start.

I’m the watermelon slammed into your driveway

Crack me open so I feel the air inside me

Bob stared at her while playing and realized that in someway, she had cracked his introverted shell. She helped him become more comfortable. She even was a huge reason he had a group of people who cared about him, outside of the dagger squad. He quickly looked at Natasha in the crowd, just to see her smirking right at him.

Music boyfriend I’m your yum yum

Call me and I’ll come

Y/N’s words from weeks prior echoed in his head as she sang, “If you need anything please know I am a call away.” And it hit him in this moment that maybe just maybe, she did feel the same way about him.

Am I dreaming or did you just kiss me

You don’t know it but you already miss me

He looked back at her and realized she was looking at him. Singing this song to him. She had a bashful smile on her face, and he could tell she was a nervous.

Fuck the rest of them

Fuck em all

Fuck em all but us

In this moment, everyone else in the bar seemed to fade away. It was just them, and he made the decision to admit what he was feeling after the show. She was breathtaking, and he thinks he may not make it if he doesn’t tell her tonight. She finally turned away in time to sing the last line to the crowd.

Fuck em all but us.

When the song ended, the bar was full of applause, even the squad looked impressed by the show. Bob watched her walk off stage after saying her thank yous, and head for the back deck. He got up to follow but was immediately stopped by the Dagger Squad, they were all patting him on the back and smiling at him. “Didn’t think you had it in you Bob, but that was truly amazing. And it seems as if the singer thinks so too.” Jake said to him with a genuine smile on his face. Natasha pushed Jake out of the way and gave Bob a hug, pulling away she said “Go get her, we’ll all still be here when you get back.” With that Bob gave a quick thank you and rushed toward the back door.

He saw y/n standing there, arms crossed over the railing and head up to the sky. When she heard the door open, she turned her head and she had a sheepish smile on her face. He thought she looked so beautiful, a bit sweaty from the show, the moon as backlighting. Her beauty rivaled that of the ocean. She was gorgeous in every sense of the word.

“You did good tonight Bobby. Thank you for letting us come play here.” She said softly as he made his way over to her. He felt warmth crawl up his neck at the use of his nickname, and he put his hand on his neck as he told her “You were gorgeous tonight.” She gave a soft laugh and bashfully turned her head. Before she could respond he continued talking, “Thank you. For everything. You invited me to this band, not even knowing if I was a good drummer. You texted me daily just to make sure I was doing okay. You made me possibly the best food I’ve had in forever. Don’t tell my ma I said that, she would never let me live it down.” He chuckled while saying that, he took a deep breath in and continued, “You have changed me as a person, so thank you.” She looked back at him, eyes wide, mouth agape. She had tears lining the bottom of her eyes, as she rushed over to hug him. “I’m so sorry I ran out of your apartment that night. I was nervous you were only kissing me because of the emotions from the movie and the tiredness. But that kiss meant everything to me. I haven’t stopped thinking about it or you since it happened.” Her speech was a bit muffled from the way she was pressed to Bob. Now it was his turn to look a bit shocked, he hadn’t even thought about how she might have thought it was all her fault. He held her and said“Darlin’ I think we’ve both been a bit idiotic. I’ve wanted to kiss you ever since I met you, and after that night I thought I messed everything up. I truly like you, I think I might even be falling in love with you if I’m honest.” She pulled back a bit and looked him in the eyes for the slightest sign that he could be lying, when she couldn’t find one she put her hand on his neck and pulled his lips to hers. This kiss was different. This kiss held all of the unspoken feelings they’ve both kept bottled up for months. He grabbed her hips and pushed her back against the railing, she opened her mouth to gasp, allowing his tongue to slip inside.

She tugged at his hair and he let out a quiet groan. Just as he was making way to pick her up, the loud noise of several nosey aviators cheering burst their bubble. She pulled back and leant her forehead on his chest, shying away a bit. He turned back to see the group smiling, clapping, whooping, and hollering. He turned back towards her and lifted her face up to his, “I’m sorry about them. Also I’m sorry I feel like I’m doing this a bit backwards, but would you like to go out for dinner soon?” He felt a bit nervous asking the question but she just looked at him like he hung all the moon and stars. “Sure, how about we go talk to your friends for a bit, then go pick up some food, and maybe finish what we start at your place?” She asked with a flirty smirk on her face. Yeah she was going to be the death of him.

[lj-lephemstar]

Progress Checkup! (Nov. 2024) | Scratchin' Melodii Devlog

​​Hey again guys! Sorry if it's been a bit since the last devlog. With how much I've been up to, it sure feels like it!

Let's get right into it. For starters, the 3rd rival battle of Act 2 is complete! I'll likely be showing a gameplay preview of it sometime soon. This is the first song to use the new framework that I'll be using for all the other stages going forward, which also means I've had to spend the past couple weeks getting the previous songs working with this new system too... Did you know that in the demo builds, if I wanted to change something about the gameplay, I'd have to manually go back and change it for EACH individual song one by one? Well now, imagine all the songs had like a peace treaty to just share one good, clean, and organized system that I can easily tweak and add to as I please. So development is gonna be smoother than ever from here! This is how most games are SUPPOSED to work, but I was a liiittle too stupid to figure out how to do this until recently!

While I was moving Cream Cheese Icing over to this new system, I took the opportunity to make the chart a bit more beginner-friendly! For example, the first line went from this...

To just this!

As you can see, it has less notes, therefore it is less scary for new players. Believe it or not, I actually never intended for Cream Cheese Icing to be so difficult for new players in the first place! Naturally, being too good at my own game can make gauging the difficulty curve a bit tricky at times, but I think I'm figuring it out!​

You may have also noticed that the characters have new UI icons too! I felt like the old ones were too flat and boring, so I did a new take on them, aiming for more dynamic shapes and angles, not to mention how my art style's just kinda grown a bit in general since I last drew the icons. I also ended up leaving out the circles behind them. I was a little worried I was gonna run out of unique colors for all of them at some point, plus SOME of these guys can have really big hair and/or hats that pretty much just cover up the whole circle anyway. (hi rensa)

Speaking of artwork, here's a little look at some of the updated animation I've done for Stir & Mix! (Try to imagine it in not highly-compressed-gif-form. I promise it looks better in-game!)

When working on Stir & Mix related stuff, I can't help but feel a bit of a sense of dread knowing how people may react to it... Honestly, sometimes I kinda wish it never got as popular as it did in 2022. But hey, doing my own thing regardless of what's expected of me is the most Scratchin' Melodii thing I could do!

Speaking of which, Mia learned a ton of new stuff while doing the VOCALOID tuning for the last rival battle we worked on, so we might revisit Stir & Mix's vocals again at some point before release to give it even more style! (By the way, Mia and 2cada are the same person! Sorry if I refer to both names interchangeably! She's been the one doing all the VOCALOID tuning and vocal mixing for the game since 2023.)

Well, I think that's all for now! Here's another friendly reminder that there will NOT be anymore demos of the game. Any new content will be saved for the full game's release. I know I've said it before, but I probably won't stop saying it until people stop getting confused about it LOL. Thanks for reading!! I appreciate you. - LJ

[mirensiart]

If legend and Ravio are used to each other getting hurt, like seriously hurt Ravio just got stabbed and the reaction was "what dumb thing did he do this time"

Like, at some level they've stopped taking it as seriously as they should right?

Imagine, Legend or Ravio getting injured, bleeding out slowly, alone, the initial pain was strong and sudden but not something they haven't felt before. It's dulled out significantly the other thinks.

The injured had started to feel cold, they didn't have any healing items, feeling weaker and weaker they had lost feeling in their body at some point, no one goes out to look for them.

Okay so, legend is still super worried!

Like, if you read the comic he takes a moment to compose himself (the "ugh gimme a minute" panel) and then acts all annoyed in the next panel

That's the thing, he's acting and pretending it's more of an annoyance than the worry he truly feels! Cause like, I personally believe he doesn't like to show that he's going through it in front of the chain, since he has his cool unbothered veteran image to keep

It's also why in the panel where he's all "that damn bunny I bet he went through my stuff!" There's a small part where he goes "(I hope he's ok)"

Ravio also comments in the comic, between all his annoyance towards Mr Hero, that he's been worried sick, cause he felt the wolfie transformation and thought something truly badly happened to him

They're used to feeling each other's pain, yes, but they still get worried for the other

So I, personally, don't believe they wouldn't take the pain from an injury as something unserious and if they're both in the same era/hyrule u bet they would go find the other immediately

Either ravio sends sheerow with some potions to the injured legend or legend just rans for it back to the house to get to the injured ravio

Plus, thanks to the soul bond, if one of them dies the other dies too, so worrying about the other is also on the self preservation side

[utdrmv-confession-box]

Transcript: xtale and underverse raises a few questions about the extent of soul sharing. Obviously we know that two people sharing the same soul feel the same pain (kinda, it’s inconsistent but it’s there). but also like, XGaster at some point notices that XChara can at least somewhat read his mind (which is how XChara convinces XGaster to bring back XFrisk in timeline 6 i think) after splitting the overwrite and determination between the two, like, how much of each others minds can they see? furthermore, in those timeline X comics, when XFrisk is holding a spider, XChara complains about being able to feel the spider, so they can feel the same textures and stuff? do they taste the same things too? If one got sick, or was dehydrated or didn’t get enough sleep, would the other feel shitty too? I wish this stuff was more explored

[tenebrare]

Well i am trying to collect all Hellraiser/dishonored/deus ex etc writers and fan artists like Pokemon, but generally for some reasons only Hellraisers talk back after few exchanges. Dishonored fans tend to whee in and say hi and happy to have met you (read: me) and then silence, no more DM/reblog/comment responses and ever since that one deus ex fan that helped me fix a game issue and get me 100% done, no one ever even talks to me about Deus ex. Maybe DXfans just hate my Hellraiser posts I do inbetween? but considering Dishonored and deus Ex both have same origins and original writers, ... We should all be one big happy family in here! Maybe I am in wrong fandoms? But i would not want to replace any of the kind/creative/fun souls I have met in those fandoms. If people want me to read their AO3 stuff on the above mentioned fandoms drop me links here, might even doodle a fan-art of your fiction! Have done so before!

I guess the reblog really is dead huh?

[yuwuta]

could i pls have rich boy boarding school yuuji crumbs ^.^ i think hes just very neat and boyish. he wears baseball caps backwards with his suits. he wears comfy sweatshirts and shorts that show off his toned thighs while he tosses a football with his friends in the courtyard. very cutey jock-ish, may even play rugby and major in econ

i think i love him omg where did htat come from

i don’t know why the backwards baseball cap with the suit is speaking to me so much but it is…. i can see it perfectly… he’s so Boy in every au but especially in this one. he’s sort of frivolous with his spending, but he’s equally as generous so it’s a balance. he’ll spend hundreds of dollars on manga and limited edition figures, and then buy his friends $5k handbags for christmas and casually suggest a michelin star restaurant for lunch because he saw a tiktok about it one time and decided he absolutely needed to try the appetizers and post about them himself

he plays polo and lacrosse with todo and once he even convinced yuuta to play soccer with him for a season and they turned out to be a pretty good duo. he’s all over the school website like he is thee poster boy for the athletics department and he looks stupid good in every single photo, you’d swear they’re staged. he’s always mixing his sports clothing with his formal attire, a jersey underneath his suit, slacks and a tie with his letterman jacket, team quarter zips with, a leather jacket over sweats. somehow he always manages to look out together and perfectly cozy at the same time. he has a habit of wearing too many layers and draping the ones he peels off over your shoulder or his friends’ shoulders. he’s not the most naturally gifted when it comes to academics, but he likes school anyway because all his friends help tutor him and he’s the only one who loves presentations/group projects because he’s the most charismatic person in the room and everyone listens to him so intently when he talks. he’s just… he’s way too charming.

he can be found laying around on the lawn in his free time, tossing a ball back and forth with todo, or yuuta, or sometimes he gets cute and asks you to practice with him and promises he’ll go easy on you (and he does, and he proclaims very loudly that you’ve improved and you’re doing so well). he’s learned to love his long reading assignments because it means you’ll let him lay his head in your lap while he reads. loves it when you wear his jerseys. pretends to be into art and philosophy and all the fine stuff if it means he gets to hold your hand while you walk through museums and take you out to dinner after