#but whoever this is is a fucking moron and i hate it

[mara-and-its-the-same]

there is no one

NO ONE

i hate more than whoever had my copy of beowulf before me

[bubbysawyer]

slasher reactions to you being hit on 1

michael myers:

yeah no theyre already dead lets just establish that. we all know

he follows you everywhere, he sees everything.

so when he sees someone flirting with you, god help them (HA) if you look the slightest bit upset, nah, gone

you're at home and look up to see him covered in blood as..he usually is, but you tilt your head (as if you were even curious)

"it was that weirdo who hit on me, wasn't it?" you got a silent stare in response.

sighing, you got up and patted his chest. "thanks."

you're closely followed through the house for the rest of the night, and you sigh

is he jealous..? ah, hell.

"michael, i love you, only you." you pat his chest, and he seems to relax. "okay?" he nods a bit and brushes your cheek.

art the clown:

i know i just said it but good GOD that person is DEAD theyre SO DONE

art is possessive and wont tolerate people even looking at you weird. youve had to hold him back bc he thought someone gave you a dirty look a few times

whoever hit on you is slaughtered in minutes, probably right in front of you, depending on where you are

if they are absolutely torn to shreds by the clown while you watch, and said person isn't dead yet, art will hold you close and/or kiss you with a glare on his face as if to say "Mine!" as his vic fades out

he will turn to you and grin his weird little grin afterwards, hugging you close. aww. ...blood is getting on you.

herbert west:

seethes quietly at first. who is this plebeian? this moron? you are HIS. obviously.

he grabs your hand and keeps glaring, and he has a strong, cold glare for such a mouse of a man

he gets fed up, fast, and stands up, clearing his throat. "they are SPOKEN for," his eyes sharp, his hand still grasping yours.

not wanting to deal with that kinda works for him in some situations. he looks, presents, and sounds difficult as hell. and..he is

any jokes or remarks about him or his appearance dont phase him. his self confidence is strong, and he doesnt really care about the opinions of others about himself...well. he kind of cares about yours. maybe a lot.

able to talk so much he chases people off. amazing

will be on high alert for similar interactions (or any interactions when you are involved) for a while afterwards. jealous streak. its mostly quiet, unless someone openly flirts with you again.

pyramid head:

death. (who the fuck is gonna hit on you around there anyway there’s NO ONE)

billy lenz:

immediately insecure when you mention it. panic.

someone flirted with you?! what? why cant they be closer so he can stab their eyes out-

calms down after you tell him you hated it, though, and kiss him

needs reassurance every five minutes, but it's okay.

play with his hair. it makes him feel better.

brahms heelshire:

the deliveryman flirted with you a bit...too much. you were clearly uncomfortable. you shut the door and sighed shakily each time. he noticed.

brahms nestled up to you at bedtime, stroking your hair. "I dislike the new deliveryman, y/n." You nodded.

you knew he was a killer, you knew he would...kill for you. you bit your lip as you fell asleep to his heat behind you.

the next delivery day you held your own hand and sighed, but jumped a bit as brahms came out. he looked down at you, motioning you to open the door.

you shook but nodded, opening the door to the same creep that hit on you last time. you did your exchange. here we go..

"Come in for some tea?" you asked, getting an enthusiastic response. He came in, not seeing Brahms.

You flinched as your Brahms slammed a knife into the delivery's neck. But settled. You ran to him, nudging his mask to kiss his cheek. He purred.

[dameronology]

complex (logan)

summary: honestly i was just listening to complex by katie macleod and i started typing and this is what happened, it's only 800 words but hey-ho.

warnings: arguments, so much swearing, logan is kind of a dick

Your residual anger hung thick in the air like heat in the summer.

Your apartment was full of signs—little reminders of your argument, tiny clues to point to the hurt in your chest. The blankets on the sofa were still tangled from where Logan had slept there last night. There were two empty bottles of whisky beside a smashed plate on the coffee table, matched with angry claw marks where he'd made the wooden structure his victim. Most obviously, you and the man you loved stood on each end of the room and the argument, chests heaving from shouting and fists balled up with rage. 

"I fucking hate you," you declared.

"No, you don't," Logan deadpanned, "you hate me right now, but really, you love me."

"Don't," you paused, taking a deep breath, "don't tell me how to feel."

"But you're allowed to tell me how to feel, huh?" he challenged.

There was another strangled sigh in your mouth. You couldn't keep sighing. You needed to come up with something new. Yelling had never been your thing. Maybe Logan's, but not yours. He hadn't even yelled for this entire fight. There had been heated exchanges, sure, but even in his most frustrated moments, he hadn't dared raise his voice. He had that much self-control.

"I can't look at you," your eyes fell to the floor.

Logan let out a snort. "Can't look at me, huh? Can't look me in the eye?"

This whole thing had started because the furry fucking moron had said something stupid. Then, he'd made it even worse when you'd pointed it out. It was like Logan had brought himself a proverbial shovel and was rewarding himself by digging a hole. He was ten feet down, and he couldn't see anything, save if he looked up and saw you glancing down at him with bleary eyes in his self-sustained grave. You could have reached down your hand to help him out but it was too far.

"Fuck. You."

Your chest heaved as you shoved past him, shoulders hitting his with a thud. Logan had barely even processed what had happened before the bedroom door slammed in his face. The force caused a picture on the shelf beside it to fall, the glass smashing into three separate pieces. He leant down to pick it up, turning the frame over. It was a picture of you at Coney Island two years ago; the wind was blowing your hair back, faced pressed to Logan's as he scowled. They were sweeter times.

Logan glanced up at the ceiling - or the sky, whatever the closest thing is.

"Whoever the fuck is up, that's not fucking funny."

He stopped at the door.

To say his heart broke when he heard you crying on the other side would be an understatement. There was a lot of sounds that Logan hated; his ring tone, his alarm sound in the morning, Wade Wilson's voice...but above all, the sound of you crying felt like a punch to the throat. It was even worse for him to know that he was the one who caused it.

Logan didn't stop before he opened the door. He booted it, body crossing the room in seconds to meet you at the bed. You were curled up, hugging his pillow to your chest and crying into yours.

He fell to his knees beside you, warm hands pulling your arms away from your face and towards him instead. A pair of strong arms came to wrap around you and in seconds, you were pressed to his chest.

"Oh, sweetheart," he murmured, "don't cry. Please don't cry. Punch me, slap me, fuckin' kill me if you want but please don't cry."

A little sob escaped your throat. "You're so frustrating."

"I know," Logan gave you a small smile, "christ, I know. And I am so fucking sorry."

He re-centred you on the bed, organising the pillows so that they were behind you. The mattress dipped beside you as he climbed under the covers, pulling you back into his side. You were still glaring at him, still refusing to throw you a ladder down his special grave.

"I let my anger get the best of me sometimes," Logan said, "maybe I don't shout at you or get angry the way I do at other people, but it...it manifests in more fucked up ways, I think. I like arguing. I love riling people up. I don't like doing that to you, though."

"You did, though."

"I know, sweetheart, I know," he murmured. "I'm trying my best. I know my best is absolute bullshit but...I am trying."

You tangled your fingers with his, giving his hand a squeeze. "I know. It's okay if you want to keep trying."

Logan softly smiled, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I love you."

"I love you too."

[theprettynosferatu]

CONTENT WARNING. NO, FOR REAL, READ THIS FIRST.

This story contains strong themes and graphic non-consensual sex. If you feel they might affect you adversely, skip this one.

Andrea is being tormented in college by a bigoted popular girl. Her daddy has always helped her... maybe he can help her get some justice...

CW: Incest, non-con, SA, orientation play (F-straight to bi)

I - No Expiration Date

She felt ridiculous. She probably looked ridiculous too, sitting against the wall, grabbing her knees, almost shaking, all in the middle of the hallway. Most made a point to not look at her, rushing to their classes, their dorms or wherever the hell they needed to be with such haste. Well, Andrea knew they only rushed because of her, to give themselves a plausible excuse to avoid doing the right thing and checking up on the poor, weird girl hyperventilating on the ground.

The worst part was that Andrea knew she shouldn’t let it get to her. If anything, it was Kate that should be ashamed of herself, not Andrea- fuck, to say such things in these days was almost quaint in its ignorance, and if Andrea chose to make a stink, grounds for expulsion. Would it be considered a hate crime? Maybe. But going up to the dean or whoever like a poor little victim felt so… humiliating. Perhaps more so than Kate’s constant, whispered words and stories. And some idiots actually listened to her! 

Andrea supposed that was the big perk of having a rich, connected daddy. Even the most moronic and bigoted statements found an audience eager to please, if only for the unspoken promise of future gifts, recommendations, networking opportunities. Shit, even the dean might sweep the whole thing under the rug just to please her family. Andrea could feel the rage building up inside her chest, making her almost sick. Part of it was the stench of injustice that surrounded the whole deal. But most of her anger was directed at herself. It wasn’t as if any of this was new to her: she had come out in highschool. Every insult and every joke and every slur had been thrown at her a thousand times over already. 

But… college was supposed to be different. Even the teachers that saw the abuse in her younger years had told her so. It will get better. You’ll get out of here, and in college all this will be a distant memory. That hope had kept her going even as everyone forgot her name and simply called her “The Dyke” her entire senior year. But those were kids. Kate was a fucking adult. And yet, bigotry seemed to have no expiration date.

Fuck. The bullying wasn’t even fucking accurate! Andrea had been openly bi for years, but apparently the nuances of sexual orientation were irrelevant when it came to making one person the butt of every facile joke, a stepping stone to get some sweet, addicting attention. And Kate loved nothing more than attention. Good, bad, who cared? As long as the spotlight was on her, whatever hole she had in what she called a soul was temporarily filled. Fucking go to therapy, you cunt! Did daddy not hug you enough? Used dollars as a substitute for affection? Boo-hoo. It didn’t justify a goddamn thing.  

Andrea took a deep breath and managed to get up. Her Social Psych lecture was about to start, and Andrea knew she would skip it, even if she tried to fool herself for a moment, to force her legs to walk towards the classroom. Step by step, she headed for her dorm room. Fuck. Another absence. Kate was even fucking up her academic life. But what could Andrea do? Go to the professor and explain that, sorry, I couldn’t make it because the rich girl made fun of me?

She threw herself on the bed with punishing force. A miniature form of self-harm, she figured. Sometimes she hated majoring in psychology: that little voice that analyzed her actions almost made her feel like she was performing her suffering, rather than feeling it fully. And that distancing might also be a defense mechanism. Well, shit. How does one turn their brain off?

Andrea felt a pang in her chest, a familiar longing for home. Sure, it wasn’t a perfect place and money was always tight. Sure, her mother had vanished when she was barely one year old. Sure, the old place was in dire need of repairs and an update. But it was home. Of course, she knew she was lying to herself by omission. She was trying not to think of the one person that made it a home, and inevitably, in trying to suppress the idea, it came to her twice as strong. Daddy. Her father was her home, and it made her feel childish, helpless, as if she was ten and running to him whenever things went poorly. That her mind still went to him filled her with shame.

Oh, bullshit. You know damn well why you don’t want to think about him.

She couldn’t tell when it had happened, exactly. It had been something slow, growing inside her, indirectly pushing her subconscious. If she looked back at her dating history, a pattern emerged, one hidden at the time but blindingly obvious in retrospect: similar to dad, similar to dad… and then, when an errant comment by a friend (“All I’m saying is, like, for an old guy… you’re dad is kinda hot”) opened her eyes, she swerved in an attempt to escape her feelings. Different from dad, different from dad… The problem with “different from dad” was, of course, that those guys were, well, different from her dad. 

The summer before college had been the worst. She did her best to be home as little as possible.

Before she knew it, twin emotions were boiling over inside her. The first made her feel sick to her stomach, made her muscles tense up, made her breathing shallow and quick, as if she was about to leap and bite some animal’s neck. It was rage, pure and shining, clad with the garment of a righteous need for justice. It isn’t fair. It isn’t fucking fair. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. That fucking bitch. She needs to suffer. She needs to be punished. She needs to fucking learn some humility. And at the same time, the second feeling snuck up on her, traveling in the shadow of the first, mingling with it until they became one, like snakes mating. Dad. She needs to suffer, dad. Make her suffer for me. Please. Please, daddy. Do this for me and I’ll… 

Andrea snapped back to reality, horrified. She moved her hand from between her legs, not even knowing when she had started playing with herself. Fuck, she was soaked. Shame almost brought her to tears, until Kate’s sneering face popped back in her mind. She had endured enough for one day. She had earned a little bit of fantasy. Just that. It wasn’t as if she’d ever do anything about… well, anything. But she could imagine, couldn’t she? She wasn’t that much of a coward- she could dare to imagine Kate, and dad, and… 

Fuck it. Who cared if it was wrong. She needed release.

Andrea let her hand go back between her legs.

II - The Call

Mike found himself staring at his phone. His morning coffee had gotten cold, but he took a sip anyway, almost as an automatic action. He couldn’t stop playing the conversation back in his head over and over.

“Dad, I’m on my way. I need your help. I… I’ll explain…”

“Andrea, are you okay? What happened?”

“I… I’ll be there in about an hour. I kinda… I don’t want to talk over the phone. Dad, I… nevermind. We’ll talk when I get there.”

And that had been it. No clues, no hint, nothing to guide him except the tone in his daughter’s voice. She was scared, and she was suffering, and that was all that he needed to know. Whatever it was that was harming her girl, he’d move Heaven and Earth to make it better. That much he knew, deep in his heart. Still, he couldn’t stop picturing the worst possible scenarios.

He tried to remain calm. Sexual assault on college campuses is… 

Mike pushed the thought away.  

Restrictions on reproductive rights have…

Snippets of news stories slapped him. The world could be a terrifying place for a young woman. But that was why they had chosen a college close to home. So Andrea could always come to him if she needed help. And she clearly needed help. Stay focused, old man. She needs you to be strong. Don’t let her see you panic. 

He needed to be strong for her. That was all he always wanted to be, more than anything: a rock, a place of stability, a North Star for the one thing that mattered in his life. They had faced the world together. They had survived poverty together. They had endured the pain of an absent mother and wife together. They had managed a retrograde high school that tormented Andrea together. She had saved his life as much as he had fostered hers. Without his girl, Mike wasn’t sure where he would be- perhaps underground. She had been the reason to dig deep, to find strength, to endure, always. 

Don’t let her see you panic.

Don’t let her see you looking at her.

He shook the intrusive thought off. Andrea needed him, not his fucked up neuroses, not the secret shame the last months of living together had awakened in him.

One hour stretched into a year, and Mike practically leaped out the door as soon as he heard the car pulling over. The first thing he noticed was his daughter’s panicked face, and that alone was enough to make his heart feel like it was about to burst out of his chest. The second thing he noticed was the other girl, passed out in the passenger’s seat. Andrea rushed into his arms, and he held her tight, trying to will some degree of peace into her mind. First things first.

“Are you okay?”, he asked.

“Yes, I’m… I’m fine.”, Andrea sobbed.

Good. Now to do what he did best: fix things.

“Ok, so, your friend…”

“She’s not my friend.”

“What did she take? Did you take anything? Look, I’m not… I won’t get mad, I just need to know what she may have taken… is it just booze? No, couldn’t be… Benzos? Or… Christ, I don’t know what you guys take these days in college…”

“Dad! She didn’t take anything!”

“Are you sure? Maybe she went into some bathroom and did something… okay. First things. We need to call an ambulance…”

“Dad, please! Listen to me! I’ll explain everything. But we need to get her inside before anyone sees-”

“Andrea, this girl is passed out! She needs medical attention! Who knows what-”

“I know what she took because I gave it to her, okay? She’s just asleep! And she should be asleep for… maybe another couple of hours. Daddy, please… I swear I’ll explain. Just help me get her into the house, okay?”

Mike felt dumbfounded. The idea that his Andrea had roofied some other girl was so distant from his image of her, from the girl he had raised, that the contradiction felt impossible to resolve. It was a paralyzing feeling, one he couldn’t entirely put into words. All he knew was he didnt like it one bit. He was a man of action. He needed to do things, more than ponder feelings. And the thing to do, if only to escape that horrid sensation, was to get the poor girl out of the car.

They dragged Kate into the house, and laid her down on Andrea’s bed- a task that, Mike noticed, his daughter undertook with less care than he would have liked. Back in the living room, he looked at his daughter and put on his best stern face. Stern was good. It hid other ideas that came into his mind when he looked directly at Andrea.

“Explain.”

Andrea broke down in tears.

“Daddy, that girl… Kate.. she’s… she’s making my life Hell! She tortures me every day, makes fun of me, spreads rumors about me… people think… I don’t even know what they think about me anymore. So I can’t make any friends. Just like high school. It’s the same damn thing! And they all said… you said college would be different! But it’s not! Maybe it’s my fault. Maybe I’m just… I don’t know. Broken. Maybe people can smell I’m weird, or weak, or… and they know they can abuse me and mock me and… It’s not fair! And I didn’t know what to do, I wasn’t thinking straight… I just put a couple of pills in her tea, and… I freaked out. I needed to feel safe, and I feel safe here… with you.”

Mike took it all in. He had to admit the sight of his precious daughter in such despair was enough to pierce any ideas of being tough he might have. And yes, it wasn’t fair. The world wasn’t fair at all. Andrea was beautiful, smart, creative… but there would always be those people who couldn’t understand someone being different, loving who they loved, being their authentic self. He got the anger. He got the frustration. He hated that Andrea had been driven to this point. But there was a big thing to address.

“Honey… I know… but you can’t just… just… kidnap someone!”

Andrea couldn’t help herself. She ran into her father’s arms, and hugged him tight.

“Daddy… I didn’t know what to do. I…”

She went silent. Mike couldn’t find the words to console her, to lecture her, to say anything at all. All he could do was feel the warmth of her body pressed against him, intuit her soft curves, take in the smell of her shampoo, her skin. It was intoxicating, and for once he let himself feel… whatever it was he was feeling. He let himself enjoy the moment, and even the sleeping girl in the bedroom seemed to fade away from his consciousness. They simply lingered, holding each other, taking it all in.

Such a moment couldn’t last. It shouldn’t last. Mike forced himself to speak, to say… whatever he could muster.

“What… I don’t know what you expect me to do…”

He felt Andrea’s hands on his back holding him tighter. He felt her warm breath on his ear, sending shivers down his spine as she whispered before the words even registered in his brain.

“Daddy… please… fuck her for me. Fucking rape the cunt… show her her place. Daddy… break her with your cock. For me.”

III - Persuasion 

Andrea couldn’t tell exactly what happened to her, what shifted within herself in that embrace, what dam had finally broken in her mind. Even as her father pushed her away with a horrified look on his face, she could see him- almost as if for the first time. A veil that had been dulling her sight for so, so long had finally vanished. Yes, she saw everything so clearly now, with such simple purity, devoid of fear or shame or silly excuses. It was a bizarre sensation, to finally be able to accept without doubt or hesitation the truth, so long buried.

She wanted to fuck him.

He wanted to fuck her.

So obvious. So simple. So powerful. Andrea wasn’t going to run away from it anymore. And she could see, under the mask of horror worn by her father, beneath the shock in his eyes, something else. Stirring. 

Suddenly, Andrea felt powerful. Immense. Sexy. In control. The fact that she had become one with her secret desires and he hadn’t brought a predatory joy to her chest… and something else, both an anger and a need. In her heart she could see not just what her father was but what he could be, what he could become, what he needed to be. She could almost smell it- the strong, conquering Man suffocated by the dull veneer of morality and social norms. Yes, she felt powerful- but she didn’t need to be strong. She needed to be taken by him. She needed to bring the beast forth, somehow. To make him see himself as she saw him. To make him see her as she wanted to be seen.

She smiled inside, even as her father almost recoiled from her. It was all a game, now. One she intended to win.

In the blink of an eye her entire demeanor, her posture, the way she looked at her father shifted. For a second she was the perfect picture of innocence, of a young woman in need of rescue.

“Daddy… please… I need your help. Won’t you help your little girl? I promise I’ll be good. I’ll be so… so good to you, Daddy. I’ll be your good little girl. Your obedient… slutty… little daughter”, she smiled as she took one step towards her father, her body now swaying like a cat slowly approaching its prey. She took a moment to delight in the confusion in her father’s eyes, the tension increasing almost to a breaking point.

“I… what are you…”, managed to mumble Mike. Oh, it was so pathetic it became cute.

“Daddy… you think I haven’t noticed the way you look at me recently? It must be so, so hard for you… to see your little girl all grown up, and you all alone… that’s not fair, is it?”, said Andrea as she closed the distance with her now paralyzed father. Oh, this was too much fun. “You have been a bad daddy in your mind, haven’t you? That sounds so painful! Knowing it’s soooo wrong to think about your little girl like that… having to pretend you don’t want to… Fuck. Your. Daughter. Oh daddy, don’t blush! Surprised to hear such naughty words coming from my cute mouth? Or… do you like me having such a potty mouth?”

Andrea, in a swift motion ran her hand over her father’s crotch. Yes. She could feel it. So hard. So warm. She was right. He was breaking.

“Feels like your daddy cock likes me talking like a dirty slut! Don’t be ashamed! I love to imagine your cock getting so hard for me… I love to know I can make it so, so happy… And only using my words! Just talking like the hopeless little fucking whore I am… for you… just knowing you can use my tight holes whenever you want… however you want… and I’ll take it like a good girl! I am your good girl, daddy. You made me, after all… you own me… you can own every inch of my slutty, smooth body…”

Suddenly, she took a step back, her eyes almost in tears. She was the very picture of anguish, of despair, of vulnerability. Mike opened his mouth to speak, but he found no words came to him. He just watched, fighting his need to hug her, to protect her, to tell her he would make everything right again.

“Daddy… I’m so sorry… I don’t know what got into me. I just feel so confused, so disoriented, and… I don’t know. It’s like I have all these feelings inside me and they get all mixed up and I can’t really tell what I feel anymore, and it hurts so much. It hurts, Daddy. And that girl… Kate… I can’t tell you how much she’s hurt me, how she has been messing with my mind and making me so miserable… and… and I guess, I’m not sure, just… I thought you could help me, Daddy. You always could help me. You always could make me feel like everything would be okay, that I wasn’t a freak, or…”

“Honey, you are not a freak! You know this. You’ve been so brave, so strong, so true to yourself, even when everyone gave you grief over it!” He couldn’t help himself anymore. He held his sweet girl in his arms.

“But I… I did a bad thing, Daddy. I brought Kate here… I couldn’t think of anything else to do to make her stop, to make her leave me alone…”

“I know. And yes, you did a… wrong thing. But that doesn’t make you a monster, or evil or anything like that, okay? We’ll… I’ll find a way… I’ll help you. I’ll… fix it, somehow.”

“Will you rape her for me? Will you punish her with your cock for hurting your little girl? I’ll be so, so good for you if you do it, daddy… I’ll be the bestest daughter ever for you!”

Mike tried to pull away before he was interrupted by the sensation of warm, soft lips on his own. Time stopped. He felt dizzy, trapped in the feeling, the scent of skin, the rush of adrenaline in his chest. He panicked as he realized he didn’t stop it in time. He didn’t stop it as time stretched. He wasn’t stopping it even as the thoughts flooded his mind. It took Mike every ounce of willpower to push his daughter away.

Oh, it was so fun to see her Daddy so confused, so aroused, so disoriented. But Kate would wake up soon. Andrea needed to land the killing blow on whatever resistance her dear dad had left.

“I’m sorry Daddy… it’s just that I love you so, so much…” One slow, seductive step towards him. “I was bad, Daddy. I shouldn’t have done that, right? Does that make me a bad girl? A bad daughter?” Another step. So close now. “I’m so, so sorry for being bad, Daddy. I’m sorry I made your cock all hard for me and teased you and used all those dirty, dirty words. Will you punish me, Daddy? Will you make me good again, show me my place? I think you should. I think you should take your cock, and-”

One final step, and Mike snapped. For the first time in his life, he slapped his daughter. Horror set on his face, and it became a mixture of bewilderment and fire when he noticed Andrea’s reaction. She was smiling.

“Mmmmh… so strong, Daddy. Do it again. Punish me. Show me you own me. Make me your bitch!”

It was over for Mike. Something primal, something awful had taken hold of him. 

His hand on her neck. Hers rubbing his cock over his pants. Her soft moans. Kisses that turned into bites. His own mumbled, jumbled words. Little cunt. Evil fucking bitch. Her words, playing off his. Your little cunt. Your good little girl. Her face against the wall. Her movements, grinding her ass against him. Her hands on his chest, pushing him back. 

So many lines crossed. Mike knew, deep down, he had broken something inside himself. Or maybe she had broken it in him. It didn’t matter. He looked down at the beautiful, perfect woman kneeling and smiling. He saw his daughter, yes, but his eyes were now different. The barrier that kept the idea of “daughter” and “sex” apart simply didn’t exist anymore. He felt adrift, caught by a whirlwind he couldn’t stop- one he didn’t want to stop. 

Victory. It looked like victory. Victory over herself, over her old fears. Victory over his attempts at doing the “right thing”. Further victory to come, as well. And it didn’t hurt that the cock that made her was a rather large one, veiny and beautiful. He tried to keep herself in check. She knew exactly what to do, which went against everything her body was screaming for her to do. No matter how much she needed to feel that cock deep inside her pussy, no matter how much she longed to taste his cum on her tongue, she would have to wait. She couldn’t risk some post nut clarity throwing further objections to her plan. She kept her mind on Kate as she licked, kissed, loved his member. She was alert, ready to stop before he went over the edge. She did let one hand slide between her legs- just a treat, and a bit of a show for Daddy. She took him deep in her throat, deeper than anyone she’d ever blown. He deserved it. He was her one true love. 

She did manage to stop herself when she felt him getting close, heard his moans getting stronger.

She stood up and simply, gently, gave his Daddy her soaked hand for him to smell. It was a promise of the pleasures to come… if he did as she asked, as she needed him to. She could see it in his eyes. He had been unleashed. Andrea smiled, and with a moan sucked her fingers clean, keeping her green eyes fixed on her Daddy’s gaze.

Punishment would finally come to the one that had wronged her.

IV - Melody of Madness

Slowly, Kate started to regain her consciousness. It was a gradual thing, messy, disoriented. The first thing she noticed was a scent- the kind of smell that tells one they’re no longer home, but in a place inhabited for years by some unknown Other. Her body felt heavy, sluggish, weighed down. She wasn’t afraid, not at that point. She was too out of it to register such an emotion.

Only when her vision cleared a bit and her body started to feel more like her own did the true horror begin. She tried to remain calm. Okay, Kate. Just… try to figure things out. You’re in a bedroom. A girl’s room, judging by the decor. Shit, did you get wasted again? Wait, no… a room, yes, but not a dorm room. Bigger than the dorms. Oh, fuck. Did I party in town? Did I black out and some random girl decided to help me?

A part of her screamed. Assuming that this was just another regrettable morning after too much liquor was only a pleasant delusion, and she knew it. As painful as it might be, she would have to face another possibility. What was the last thing she remembered? She was getting up, ready for class… then she was picking up her morning coffee… a bitter taste, more than usual, and then… nothing. 

Kate needed to get out. Wherever she was, it was not where she wanted to be, that much she knew. She’d have time to figure things out later. First, get out of bed, and then…

She couldn’t. She was bound to the bed by improvised ropes made of sheets. Her legs were open, held in place. She noticed the way the air felt on her skin. She was in her underwear. This final fact froze her for half a minute- thirty seconds that felt like an eternity. 

Finally, she screamed.

“Shut the fuck up, or things will get very, very messy for you. And I don’t want to ruin my sheets, thank you very much.”

The voice was calm. Cold, yet expressing a hint of anticipation. And it was a voice Kate would never have expected to hear in that place, not in a million years.

“Andrea?”

“Oh, I’m ‘Andrea’ today? Are you sure you don’t mean to call me one of your usual nicknames? No ‘dyke’? No ‘carpet muncher’? No ‘cunt licker’? Isn’t it interesting, how something as simple as a little bit of metal and a few sheets are enough to teach you manners?”

Metal? Kate lifted her head as much as she could. There was Andrea, holding a knife. Shit. Shit. Shit. That little, insignificant bitch! And what was it with the outfit? Black lingerie, full face of make-up, devilishly sharp stiletto heels… Kate had never seen the stupid dyke looking anything like a real woman. Huh. So she had curves hidden under her usual baggy hoodies. Good for her. But she was still a fucking loser, and Kate knew how to handle losers.

“What the fuck are you doing, you crazy bitch? Let me go, now! What the hell are you thinking? People will hear…”

“Oh, don’t make a sound. I don’t want my father to…”

“Really? You brought me to your own home? You really are that stupid, huh? Let’s see what your dad thinks of his dyke daughter when she sees what you’ve done! Help! Sir, please! In your daughter’s room!”

Steps stomping outside. A man entered the room. Finally. Victory! Now the crazy dyke would get what was coming to her, and Kate would have a brand new story to bury the little cunt’s reputation even further. Maybe even hold the possibility of jail over her head.

“Andrea! What the hell is this? What are you doing?”, the man said, suitably shocked.

“Daddy! I’m so sorry! I… I just…”

“Didn’t I tell you to let me know as soon as she woke up?”

“You did. Sorry, Daddy. I’ve been a naughty little girl… will you punish me later?”

“Later, yes. Now we have work to do, don’t we, baby girl?”

“Yes we do, Daddy!” she chirped before giving in to a long, deep kiss with the man.

What. The. Fuck.

“Oh, I’m sorry!”, laughed Andrea. “Did you think he would help you? Kate, Kate… Ignorant as always. For one, I’m not a dyke, I’m bi- not that you care, but I figured a little education can’t hurt. And another thing about me: I have the bestest Daddy in the whole world! And my Daddy would do anything for me, because I’m his perfect, slutty good girl… and he’s very, very good at training good girls! Well, maybe ‘training’ isn’t the right word. How about… ‘breaking’? You know, like a horse! And we’ll make you such a good, good girl!”

Panic set in.

“Crazy! You’re both fucking crazy!”

Kate squirmed, a scream dying in her throat as Andrea crawled on the bed, swaying like a terrible feline, giving her dad a marvelous show. She lightly touched the inside of Kate’s thighs as she made her way up… before flashing the knife in front of the poor captive’s eyes.

“If I were you”, cooed Andrea, “I’d be very, very still for this part.”

Kated hated that her body seemed to instinctively do as the fucking dyke told. She froze, every muscle locked tight. She closed her eyes, and prayed to no deity in particular. Please. Please. Make it stop.

Kate shuddered as she felt something cold barely grazing her, almost between her legs. Terrible images flashed inside her mind. I might die here. A second later, she felt air caressing her private areas. She opened her eyes, only to see Andrea’s mad smile as she held the remains of Kate’s panties in her hand, skillfully cut off her body. 

“Not the sexiest of panties, I must say. I’m a bit disappointed! But…” Andrea brought the panties to her nose and took a deep, gratifying sniff. “There’s something alluring there. Oh! You’ve never had the pleasure of smelling a nice cunt, have you? No, you’re so very, very straight… you’d never do that, right? Well, you’ve been missing out. Time to fix that.”

Andrea carefully, almost lovingly, tied the panties around Kate’s face. Every breath now was an assault, a reminder of how powerless she was. A humiliation.

“Better get used to it, you stuck-up slut. You’ll be tasting the real thing soon enough. But…” Andrea leaped off the bound body of her foe. “What am I thinking? You’re straight! So, I take it you’d enjoy a big, hard cock more than my… dyke attentions, won’t you? Well, how about some Daddy cock? Won’t you love that? I know you will.”

Andrea skipped, child-like to her father. He was watching the scene before him, almost panting. A beast ready to be unleashed.

“Look!” chirped Andrea. “He’s so, so hard for you already! You should be flattered! Well, no point delaying the inevitable, I say. Ready to feel this big cock ramming into that tight pussy, you bitch?”

“No… no, please, don’t… I’ll… I’m sorry for… for everything! Please, please, please…”

“A little late for that, you evil cunt! Now get ready to be used like the fucking cumrag you are!”

Kate tensed up and shut her eyes hard enough to make them hurt. She braced herself for pain, for agony. She tried to somehow make her mind escape somewhere, anywhere else. Wasn’t that something that happened in these situations? Some sort of protective dissociation? And yet her mind was nailed in place, as stuck to the bed as her body. She waited, shaking… and nothing happened.

“How rude of me!”, mocked Andrea. “I almost made my daddy take that pussy dry! That would hurt a lot! I could help with that situation, you know… but you’re not a filthy pervert like me, that likes cock and pussy alike… so… I have to say, I’m a bit conflicted! Wouldn’t want to make you a dyke against your will! But you can choose. Dry or dyke? Huh? Too shy to speak now, you cunt? Answer me! Dyke. Or. Dry.”

Kate couldn’t believe her ears. An image of the knife flashed in her mind. Fear took hold. Feel of pain, primal, deep. The promise of less pain seemed like an imperative, and her mouth spoke before she could stop it.

“Dyke…” she mumbled.

“Sorry? I couldn’t quite hear that”, saud Andrea.

“Dyke! Dyke! Dyke, goddamn you!”

“She’s out! She’s loud! She’s proud! Welcome to the club, sister! Now relax and let me introduce you to a brand new world…”

It felt gross. It felt odd. Kate tried to reframe it. It’s just lubrication. It’s just making it easier for later. It means nothing. It’s just a tongue. It’s just…

Andrea was good. Extremely so. She took pride in her oral skills and was using all her talents, all her tricks on Kate. Not because she wanted the little bitch to feel good: simply because she knew that pleasure would make her suffer as much as the pain to come. Every involuntary thrust of Kate’s hips, every muffled moan that escaped her lips was a step towards conquest… and Andrea felt like a warlord, like a terrible goddess exacting just revenge…

“Now that wasn’t so bad, was it?” she giggled. “But we can’t have you cumming like that… not when dear Daddy has been so, so patient!”

Fear crept from beneath the disgust Kate felt with herself. A part of her had enjoyed it, and she hated herself for it. Her body was starting to betray her, and that, more than anything, was terrifying. But now the pain would come. She knew that for a fact.

“Daddy, my sweet, sweet Daddy… break the cunt”, said Andrea.

“Please… don’t…” managed to mutter Kate.

It was in vain.

It did hurt. The man was a beast, savage, thrusting into Kate without the slightest care for her pleasure or comfort, using her body like an object to take out all his messed up frustrations, his fantasies, whatever was mixed up in the storm inside his brain. Kate whimpered and yelped and tried not to scream. And in her ear, a warm breath, whispering to her constantly.

“Good girl… won’t you cry for me? Like you made me cry so many times? You fucking slut… don’t fight it… you know what you are, deep down… don’t you miss my sweet tongue on your cunt? Relax… let it happen… you deserve this… and I’ve earned it… your pain… and what you will be for me later… when the pain is gone…”

Part of her mind was aware enough to realize Andrea was rubbing herself right beside her. But most of her mind was focused on the sensation between her legs, the burning, the feeling she was being torn apart… and something worse, slowly creeping its way into the strange mixture assaulting her consciousness. Andrea saw it immediately.

“It’s better now, isn’t it? You can feel it… it’s okay. You don’t have to lie. Not to me. We are sisters now, after all. I, made by the cock that is remaking you! It’s so… poetic, isn’t it? You are a slut. You’ve always been a slut, deep down… all you needed was someone to prove to you that a slut is all you need to be. All you deserve to be. No more queen bee at college for you! And I know you will be such a good little girl for Daddy…”

“Fuck… fuck you…”

“Oh, you’ll get to do that too! Want a taste?”

Andrea started slowly, kissing Kate’s neck, nibbling it, giving her victim goosebumps. Then she delicately removed her bra, and lips met sensitive skin. Kate’s nipples, hard against her will, were assaulted by kisses, suction, skillful licks. Andrea toyed with Kate, varying the pressure, the speed of her tongue, inserting playful little bites into the game. Measuring. Learning. Deciphering every preference, every weak point. To Kate’s horror, the pain was starting to feel duller, as if coming from far away. The pleasure, on the other hand, was sharper, demanding, a hungry thing coming from her own traitorous body. It was hard to think. Hard to keep any single idea in frame inside her mind. Too many stimuli, coming from too many places, attacking different parts of her idea of self. She felt as if she was drowning in sensation.

Andrea made her way down, slowly, as her father’s thrusts became a bit slower. Stamina wasn’t infinite, but she was quite confident that together they could get the job done. Together, they could do anything. It took a bit of careful positioning, but soon the tip of her tongue was able to tease the little cunt’s clit and even give her dear Daddy a little extra lick when he pulled his beautiful cock out, only to ram it into Kate again. Oh, if only this moment could last forever. Father and daughter locked eyes for a moment, in something that felt like a twisted perversion of love. It was time to move on to the next step.

Kate couldn’t stop squirming. Couldn’t stop moaning. Couldn’t stop her fucking body from reacting to the big cock inside her, the tongue playing her pussy like a violin, her own shame turned into a corruption of pleasure, disgust with herself that swirled and shifted and somehow enhanced the feelings that were eroding her sanity. And then, it snuck up on her.

Kate came, harder than ever in her life. Any pretense was undone at that moment. Her body was too honest. But the fucked up father and daughter team didn’t stop. No, they paused for only a second or two before resuming their work. It was too much. Kate shook as she came again. And again. And again.

She was exhausted. Too exhausted to fight anymore. Too confused to protest anything Andrea said. Her words just permeated, unfiltered, into Kate’s mind.

“...tell you? You can be such a good little whore… and we can be Daddy’s sluts together! Don’t you think he deserves it? His cock made you cum so much… your pain gave it so much pleasure… it owns you now. And you’ll love it, I know you will. We’ll make you love it so, so much, until you forget what a fucking bitch you were before…”

Kate didn’t even notice when the restraints were removed. There were stronger ones in place now, and she could feel them. Inside her head. She had been defeated. She had been conquered. She had surrendered.

“On all fours”, Daddy said. He didn’t have to say it twice. Kate complied. 

“Word on campus is that your little ass is the one hole you’ve been saving up for someone special! Well, I say you’ve met someone very special! So now Daddy will take the last bit of you and you’ll finally be entirely his! Isn’t that exciting? But… what about your poor fellow slut? I mean, I gave you pleasure too! I say I deserve a treat. So… you get pain for Daddy and he gets to watch you eat a pussy for the first time! What a show it will be! And we’ll make it a show, won’t we, sis?”

Yes. Whatever Andrea said. It was easier to comply. Easier to obey. Easier to just accept. It would hurt. Good. If her pain was what they wanted, they would have it. She would have sex with another girl. Good. If they wanted her to dyke out, she would. 

Kate’s screams sent vibrations through Andrea’s pussy, only making Kate’s inexperienced attempts at eating her out so much more delicious. Andrea felt like a queen, being serviced as she deserved. Mike was a beast, finally letting out something that had been suppressed in shame for far too long. Kate let her body take over, turning even pain into something else, something like purpose, or atonement. In a single day, all three had changed. Forever.

The tight, virgin ass, paired with the spectacle of this girl pleasuring his sweet little girl sent Mike over the edge. He barely managed to pull out before cumming with an intensity that shocked even himself. Kate’s back was soaked, and some drops had even landed on his own daughter’s breasts. 

Andrea licked her lips.

“Kate… sis… why don’t we clean each other up for Daddy?”

V - Epilogue

Mike woke up to the sensation of tongues on his cock, as was the norm. He let himself relax and sink into pleasure. To think that half a year ago, the idea of even looking at his daughter had felt revolting! How silly he had been. They loved each other. They made each other their best versions of themselves. Their most perverted versions. 

And Kate… how lovely it had all been. Sure, it had taken a little while for her to fully enter the family, but now she and her adoptive sister were inseparable. They went shopping for slutty outfits, they did their camshows together to make Daddy money… they had even made out in front of the Dean when they announced they were dropping out of college to be full-time whores. It was tender, in a way. Kate’s addiction to pain and humiliation had come as a bit of a surprise, but a welcome one- especially by Andrea, who had started to explore her sadistic side more and more.

Of course, they both adored Daddy. They were always ready, always willing to please him. After far too many years of gray, dull effort and solitude, Mike felt happy. He let himself enjoy that fact.

After he came, the girls licked each other clean, moaning as they savored their Daddy’s cum. With bright smiles, they leaped on the bed with Mike.

“Good morning, Daddy!” they said in unison.

Did you enjoy this story? You can get access to the full library and support my work at patreon.com/prettynosferatu

Every bit helps!

[hijinxinprogress]

I love Wally and Bart getting along but I also love Bart deciding that if Wally doesn’t like him he’ll give him a reason bc it’s hilarious

Like Wally’s about to lose his goddamn mind bc this is the seventh time he’s tried to vent (complain) about Bart to another hero (speedster or otherwise) and gotten the response is ‘Bart, really? He’s a little silly at times but he’s a good kid” 

Bart dials up his mildly obnoxious persona to a million like full on annoyance and active inconvenience when Wally’s around and no one ever believes him

Like he shoves Wally at superspeed and goes ‘aw man did you not eat today?? You gotta be a little more responsible!’ whole time he waited until right before Wally got home and ate everything then left a note like ‘thanks a million - ✌🏾😋’ 

Bart definitely goes ‘huh’ and makes people repeat themselves like twelve times or until they get fed up and then they blink and he’s already answered or done whatever they asked and he’s giggling ‘nah, I’m just fucking with you’

Or complete opposite direction, Barts quiet and serious whereas if Wally’s not around he’s vibrant, loud, argumentative, and goofy so Wally jokes that Barts ‘a little too quiet for a speedster esp one from central’ and whoever he’s talking to looks at him funny bc ‘quiet?? Are you joking?? That mf never shuts up, he giggled through a 6 hour meeting with the jl like the entire meeting istg. He made me laugh so hard yesterday batman put me on surveillance duty for six months’ 

And he only speaks to Wally directly if he has to or they’re in the field so someone tries to pair him up with Wally for training 

And he’s like “no I’m good ngl I’d rather work with Thad and he’s on his ‘there can only be one’ bs rn” and everyone is so confused bc Bart will work with practically anyone including Thad so this is an extreme reaction and he’s like “Wally hates me 🤨 why would I willingly subject myself to that???” And Wally’s like I didn’t think you’d notice and Bart shoots back yeah bc you think I’m a moron

[sophiethewitch1]

In Death's Embrace Pt. 2

Jason Todd x Death!Reader

Part one!

Jason shoots up in bed, his hand stretched out. He’s sweating, drenched in his own panic in fear. His hand falls into his lap, still twitching. He doesn’t remember what he was dreaming about, doesn’t remember what he was trying to grasp.

He knows he failed. He knows it slipped through his fingers like sand. He doesn’t think there’s anything more tragic in the world. He doesn't know why.

“Once again, you amaze me. Breaking the rules of the universe, not once, but twice.”

His hand is wrapped around his gun before you even finish the sentence. It’s pointed between your eyes once you do. To your credit, whoever just broke into his apartment without triggering any of his alarms, you don’t even flinch. No, you just fold your hands behind your back and give him an odd look.

You tilt your head, eyes moving over the scars on his face and catching on the lock of white hair he sports. Then, your face breaks into a smile, and something in Jason’s heart jumps. There’s a knowing in your eyes that he doesn’t like. An understanding.

You see through him, somehow. He doesn’t like it. He’ll shoot you for the offence.

“Who are you? How did you get in here?” Jason demands, assessing you like you assess him. You don’t look like a combatant, in long dark flowing fabrics. Still, he knows not to underestimate someone based on their appearance.

That damned clown never looked like a threat. And now he was standing here, with someone who seemed just as crazy in his bedroom. Only someone that crazy would break into his home.

“Are you going to shoot me?” your words are teasing, eyes fond. Maybe you’re crazier, then. You don’t believe he’ll do it. He will.

He should have already. It’s base curiosity that holds his trigger finger. That’s what he thinks it is, at least.

“I might,” he finally says, “Again, who the fuck are you?”

“It’s interesting talking to you like this. You knew who I was straight away last time, but this time you turn your weapon to me,” you continue, ignoring his threat. A muscle jumps in his cheek, annoyed at your presence, at your blatant disregard for him.

“Last time?”

Your smile turns into a bright grin. He’s momentarily stunned by it.

“So, you really haven’t won just yet. That gives me a small measure of pride,” you say, walking over to the window with your hands still behind your back, “Maybe enough to spare you from my anger.”

You look over at him again. Purse your lips.

“Maybe not.”

“I think you forget who is holding the gun,” Jason reminds you, clicking his teeth at the way you just shrug.

You go quiet. No more teasing words or ominous warnings. Jason should shoot, shoot now. He’d hate the cleanup, hate the mess, hate all the effort, but it was necessary. You were dangerous. That much was obvious.

Instead, he opens his big dumb mouth and asks, “What do you want?”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Is it terrible I don’t know? Rules are rules after all, but this situation is… complicated. You’re not another Sisyphus, you don’t even want to be here.”

“You broke into my home and started threatening me. That doesn’t sound complicated,” Jason insists. This is such a fucking weird conversation. And Sisyphus? Jason had done his homework, he knew about the mythical man who cheated death. He thinks he’s actually quite a lot like Sisyphus.

He still doesn’t appreciate the comparison.

“Yes well, I don’t want to be here either, de-” your voice cuts off, eyes widen in surprise, and then narrow on him like he caused some great offence. Inside him, he feels his dead little heart wither even further at the sight. Like you being upset with him was one of the worst mistakes of his life.

Once again, you broke into his house. All he’d done was tell you to get lost. Oh, and maybe threaten to shoot you, but who cares about that. He soothes the momentary panic, insisting you obviously hadn’t.

Which is dumb. He’s being an idiot. Jason Todd is being an absolute moron right now, and he just needs to shoot you.

Instead of paying attention to the gun trained on you, you stare out his window, at the streets of Gotham’s Hill district below. The sun is rising, rays bursting through the fog. The people are just getting up with it. It’s one of the few times the city is anything close to quiet. Most are still sleeping, and so is crime.

Warm sunlight catches on your cheek, and again, something inside Jason cries out at the sight. It’s worrying.

“I think I want you dead, again,” you confess.

Jason’s breath whooshes out of his lips, and his gun arm twitches for a second. Well, fuck him, that’s certainly a statement. And again, why hadn’t he shot you?

He still doesn’t do it. He must be crazy, too.

“I’m being greedy. I always have been, of course. It’s what I am… But especially this time, I think I’m being too greedy,” you sound sad, your fingers trailing across the wooden window frame, “I think I shouldn’t be here, but it’s the ones like you who make it hard.”

You rub dust against your fingers, and Jason feels embarrassed for the state of his home. He realises a second later what a stupid thought that is, you broke in. He wonders how many times he’ll have to repeat it to remember it. He feels uncomfortable and off-kilter, and he knows it’s because of you.

He needs to get you out.

“I’ve always hated the special ones, you know. The smart ones. You’re too good at pulling me, manipulating me, tugging on my strings like a puppet. You make me human,” you turn back to him, crossing your arms and resting against the sill. You’re comfortable in his home, more so than he usually is. Calm, relaxed, like the world is at peace, and worries are something of the past.

He wonders what that must be like. Fucking delightful, he bets.

“Are you not human?”

You raise an eyebrow in response.

Shit. Ah, fuck it. His finger tightens, and the recoil jerks his arm. The silencer keeps the early apartment quiet. Quiet, if not for the sound of the bullet clattering to the ground.

You both glance down at the crumpled piece of metal sitting pathetically on the floor. You lean over, pick the piece up, and then lift it to your eye, watching that same sunlight reflecting the early morning in the steel. A small rainbow flitters across your skin. You close your fist, and you stroll over to Jason.

It takes him a moment to remember to be wary of you, and by that time, you already have his hand cradled between yours.

You place the remnants of the bullet in his scarred palm.

“I expect an apology for that later,” your voice is soft, sweet. Loving, even after he shot you in the chest. Not like it did anything. Your fingers curl around his, tracing every crack and crevice. You do it with concentration, with precision, like you were made just to touch him, to comfort him.

A memory, gone in a flash. He feels it’s loss like a toothache.

He swallows, “I’m sorry.”

You laugh, and the sun’s not outside, it’s in his bedroom and it’s smiling and it’s everything and it’s here in his grasp and he knows it’ll be okay again. It has to be okay again. You said it’d be okay, didn’t you? He can’t remember. His head’s swirling, spinning, falling right into you. Right back into you.

“Or now, that’s fine too,” you sound delighted. He’s glad.

You let go of him, and move back to the window, drawn by the view outside. Jason's hand clasp and unclasp. The street obviously fascinates you, your eyes flicking back and forth and tracking the movement of every soul outside. He wants your gaze back on him.

Jason clears his throat. You glance back at him, then pointedly, his right hand.

He can feel his face flush, embarrassingly. He’s still holding the gun. He turns the safety off and tucks it back under his pillow.

He clears his throat again. He wants something from you, expects it, really. But he can’t tell what it is. He thinks you know, though. That you’re withholding it, for some reason. He’s irrationally irritated at that. You said you were greedy, but nothing could compare to his greed.

Even if you wanted him dead. He was starting to put together the pieces, but he couldn’t seem to feel alarmed. No, it simply wasn’t necessary, with you here.

Still, it’s not quite enough. He wants more. He wants to know more. So he waits for you to speak again.

“I’ve thought about doing this so many times over the years. It would’ve been selfish, and more than that, outside of my duty. You’re not one of mine anymore. For a little while, at least.”

He wants to be. He wants to be yours. He wants it more than he can breathe. If he’s yours, maybe you can be his.

You glance to the side, thinking out loud, “But then you went and started remembering. I’ve worked very hard to make sure that’s impossible, you know. That the memories from my realm stay there.”

You turn a disapproving glance his way.

“Of course, far be it for me to get in the way of a Wayne and his decision to break the world. You lot do that far too much, give me too much work,” you mutter that last part, hand moving to your brow. Like you’re massaging away a headache. He should be doing that for you.

“But you did it. And you’re here. And now I am, too. And I have to go soon.”

You drift closer to him, and Jason’s breath catches. He’s still. He doesn’t make a single movement, scared he’ll scare you away. He realises that’s stupid. That you caught a bullet to the chest. That you’re stronger than anything he could imagine.

He still thinks he could startle you if he’s not careful. That you’re like the mist outside, incorporeal. But Jason can do anything if he puts his mind to it. He knows how to catch the wind, how to gather steam on the underside of glass, how to cup sand and water and feathers and everything that would ever want to be outside of his reach.

You’re out of his reach. He has to let you step into it.

You stop a foot away from him. He grinds his teeth, and again, you raise a brow at him. He doesn’t move, despite his muscles screaming at him too. You give him a nod and take another step closer. He still doesn’t move, and you give him a satisfied look.

“So, what should we do, Jason?”

“How do you know my name?”

“What? Did dying strip you of any brains?”

The banter is familiar. He doesn’t mean to ruin it.

“Do you have to leave?” again, a voice in his mind whispers. You look sad, again. Again, again, again. All of this is an again.

“Eventually. Sooner rather than later,” you sigh, “You can keep a secret, can’t you, Jason?”

“Not if you leave.”

It’s a bold move. You take a step back, and he winces. Back and forth, back and forth… Still, he doesn’t take the words back. He can’t, because it’s the truth, and now that you’re here, there’s no going back. He’ll do anything to keep you with him, and if you go too far for him to reach, he’ll follow you.

“I think that’s an unfair request,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“It’s fair. You don’t have to stay forever, just a while.” Now that, that is a lie. You seem to know it, too.

You look out the window again. Jason, after a moment's hesitation, moves over beside you. You don’t flee, your attention is on the people below. He opens the window for you, and you give him another smile. He collects them like the rare treasures they are. You lean out into the air, and he freaks, then realises you’d shrugged off a bullet. He stays close, vigilant, anyway.

“I’m curious, I have to admit. What’s this place like?” you ask, resting elbows on the wood. The streets are foggy, as they usually are in the morning. The Hill isn’t the nicest place, not the cleanest either, but you look at it like it’s heaven incarnate. He can see his neighbour down at the local grocer, the old woman who hoards cats seeing her grandson off to school, and one of his guys hanging out on the street, keeping the space safe.

Under his orders. The Hill wasn’t the nicest place, but he liked to keep it as nice as possible.

...Peaceful, he wanted the people here to have their peace. He was obsessed with it, really.

“It sucks.”

You laugh again, music to his ears, “Not the best advertising.”

“I take it back, it’s the best place on earth,” he replies, barely paying attention to his words. He’s seeing how close he can get to you. How many inches he can claim. His face is almost in your neck by the time you lean back, and he curses under his breath.

“It doesn’t need to be,” you say, pushing away from the sill and turning to wander around his room. You take in everything about the space. From the general mess, to the Jane Austen books crammed into his bookshelf, to the mask he’s left half-hazard on his bedstand.

You watch it all, just as fascinated with the world outside as the one inside. He wants to believe that means he’s special to you. And if it doesn’t, that just means he needs to work a little harder.

Finally, you turn to him. You take in every facet of him, once again. Your all-knowing gaze finds his hair again. You seem especially fascinated by that. You lift your hands, and he’s in them before he realises he’s moved.

You map his features with your hands, and he makes a little sound in the back of his throat. Ignoring that, you wipe the bags under his eyes. He feels his sanity slip away under your touch. You trace the scar on his chin, the one above his left brow. The stubble along his jaw. The bump in his nose. The edge of his lips. He wonders at the smirk you give when he groans. And finally, you come to that strand of hair.

You tug on it. A memory fizzles again, and to his frustration, he can’t quite grab it. Can’t quite take it, claim it. It’s not his, not yet.

You haven’t given him permission to remember. He wants it, he wants it, he needs it.

“I think I can stay, maybe. Just for a little, just a little. You want that, right?” your hands cup his face, and he knows, somehow, that you’ve done this a thousand times. And if this is the thousand-and-first time you’ve held him like this, he’s glad. To be back in your embrace is the sweetest pleasure. The greatest relief.

“Yes. Yes, yes… yes, I do,” he’s nodding, he’s begging, he’s pleading with you. Just for a moment more, just a second more. Just a little bit more, before you let him go again. He leans down and presses his forehead to you, sighing in your scent, the wheat reeds in the wind, the warm sun on skin.

He wonders what he has to do to make sure you never let go again. He wonders if you’ll let him do it.

You shake your head, giving him a rueful smile, “You really are too cute, darling.”

That nickname. The key to his heart, his mind. Every single barrier keeping him from you is gone, crumbled by your will. He is thankful you’ve given them back. He is thankful for every moment you ever had with him. And he’ll make a thousand more.

He presses his lips to yours, arms holding you close. When you melt into him, sigh into the kiss, he feels a euphoria he didn’t know could be true. He feels a relief he didn’t know even in his days under, even when you only held him.

He feels alive with it.

“Thank you for coming back,” he whispers against you, and he can feel that familiar, that damning smile spread.

“You left me. I had to hunt you down myself, Jason dear.”

Maybe he couldn’t have his peaceful death. But he had a loving one, and that was all he needed.

[writerblue275]

Heartsteel Ranking: “Scary boyfriend privilege”

(AKA how intimidating they are to people who don’t know them.)

Inspiration: I’ll be honest this is a bit of a random ranking but I thought it would be fun to do and it was!

Champions: Heartsteel

Genre: Ranking

Type: Fluff? This is meant in a funny way.

Tw: Small mention of alcohol (drink responsibly y’all), and swearing (because I do, in fact, have the mouth of a damn sailor.)

List goes least intimidating to most intimidating.

LEAST

Ezreal (One of these days I will do a ranking that doesn’t put him at the bottom! I swear it’s not intentional! 😂)

Let’s be honest no one is shocked he’s here, right? Where else was Ez going to go on this list?? This isn’t a bad thing though! He just gives off such golden retriever energy and it’s amazing and I love him. I want to be at least best friends with HS Ezreal.

Despite the usual happy golden retriever energy, he’s definitely not afraid to tell people off/protect you though. (I feel like he secretly has quite a temper. He’s a Sagittarius after all [love my fellow 🔥 signs WOOT WOOT]. Usually he’s very good about keeping it under control…but if someone [besides you, he absolutely adores you] pushes him too far [ex: by making you uncomfortable]…just see what happens.)

Aphelios

You absolutely have scary boyfriend privilege with Aphelios, but I just can’t rank him higher than any of the other members below. He definitely has that “brooding silent type” down pat, and when he’s wearing his mask, that’s doubled. That air of mystery, baby, he’s got that in SPADES.

We also know he’s tall. Like not Sett, K’Sante, or Yone tall, but he’s got some height on him (unconfirmed 6’). Physically, he’s definitely more intimidating than Ez. Like imagine Phel silently staring daggers at someone. Lmao I’d hate to be whoever pissed him off.

K’Sante

Most of this comes from his height (unconfirmed 6’4”) and the fact he’s one of the gym bros. Like general vibe/personality-wise, I think Phel could be more-intimidating than K’Sante (or even Sett), but have you seen how just MASSIVE K’Sante is? HE CAN CANONICALLY BENCH SETT. Like 😮😮😮

Not to mention I feel like he’d always stick close to you in public, so no one would even dream of trying to do anything to you. (Unless they’re a whole dumbass.) K’Sante genuinely gives me very kind vibes, but he definitely protects those he loves very fiercely.

Sett

Sett is (unconfirmed) 6’7” (at least confirmed the tallest in the group), and JACKED AS HELL. Not to mention “allergic” to sleeves so those arms are out most of the time lmao. Only a fucking moron (or someone who is incredibly drunk) would look at Settrigh and go “oh yeah I am absolutely going to mess with this guy.” RIP that idiot.

He also doesn’t fuck around about the safety of the people he loves. Sett genuinely seems like the sweetest guy (I love this giant, ripped, sewing himbo so fucking much oh my fucking god) but he can/will be intentionally intimidating if it’s necessary to keep you or Ma safe (the two most important figures in his life 🥺). Will walk you home/keep you close to him in crowded situations. He always wants you to feel safe when you’re with him (you absolutely do like how could you not?).

Kayn

So this is based on both appearance and reputation. Obviously Kayn has quite the reputation from his last band (as well as being kicked out of it.) Appearance-wise, he’s not super tall, but he’s tall enough. Not to mention the piercings, tattoos, the fact he’s also in excellent shape (I mean we all saw those abs 😏), has vibrant dyed hair, a very bright red eye, and he is a total metal head. He can also, um, travel through WALLS. (Small detail lol.)

DO I EVEN HAVE TO MENTION RHAAST (even as his stage alter ego)???? Kayn can be pretty impulsive and sometimes acts first, thinks later. (He’s currently working on that with Yone, it’s fine.) Someone would be a damn fool to fuck with him or you. He just gives me very loyal guard dog vibes. (I mean he did wear the damn leash in the mv so….😝)

Yone

There is no one (let me repeat: NO ONE) I’d want to fuck with less than Yone. This man has quintessential resting bitch face (RBF), is like 6’ 2-3” (unconfirmed), in very good shaped (based on the lovely titty window of his outfit. Thank you, Riot designers) and is able to (mostly) wrangle the rest of the group. Also (hella obvious but) HE’S AN INTROVERT (INFJ specifically). People are NOT his thing (fucking MOOD).

Yone is the one who gives the most similar vibes to the TikToks I’ve seen that show cosplayers at Cons with their scarier-dressed friends/partners following behind them keeping them safe. (For Yone, it’s the RBF/air of mystery that really sets the tone.) He gives me such mature gentleman vibes as well. He’s always going to walk you home especially at night, or he’ll stay by your side in a crowd and you are just going to feel really safe with him. Top-tier scary boyfriend privilege right there.

Most

Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Ok so the least and most intimidating were extremely obvious to me. It was everyone else in between that made things difficult. This was really fun to write though, even if the concept is a bit silly! 😂

[spookieolson]

You make everything better. (Ricky “Horror” Olson x Reader)

A/N: Felt like writing some fluff for Ricky today. Enjoy <3

Warnings: Language, light angst and fluff

Taglist: Tag List: @skulliecadaver-blog @witchyweeb34 @cookiesupplier @raydenrrobertson @sakuracyberhex @beaker1636 @lyschko666 @black-damask1999 @synthetic-wasp-570 @jilliemiw86 @tearfallpixie @vinyardmauro @thatchickwiththecamera @bloody-delusion-expert @th0ughts-pr4yers @zuberweirrd @bxrnthyfears @yournecessaryevil @arkiliastuff @abiomens

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

It was another long day at work. Customers were jerks and I didn’t even get to go on my lunch break today. I was exhausted and hungry.

I trudge my way out of the mall and into the parking lot. I find my car and get in. I let my head rest on the steering wheel as I let out a groan mixed with frustration and exhaustion. I run a hand through my hair with a sigh and start the car.

The drive home wasn’t easy. People drove like morons and some idiot almost side swiped me. It seemed my bad day was only getting worse.

Finally, I arrive home and pull into the driveway. Ricky was still at the studio with the guys and wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours. I turn off the car and grab my purse and get out of my car. I walk up to the door and dig in my purse for my keys.

“Damn it, where are they?” I grumble, getting more annoyed as I can’t find my keys. “Fuck, come on!”

Eventually after some digging, I find my keys and unlock the door. I get in and throw my bag to the side. I go to the couch and sit, soon to slump against it.

I was tired.

Mentally, and physically tired.

I could feel tears prick my eyes as I hugged one of the pillows. Today was a rough day, and all I wanted to do was cry.

So, that’s what I did. I let the tears run down my face as I hugged the pillow closer, shoving my face into it. I wished it was Ricky. Ricky always made everything better.

But he wasn’t here. He was working. All I wanted was for him to comfort me, and I couldn’t have that. Not for a couple of hours. Now I was sobbing.

I don’t know how long I was crying, but I heard the front door open. I didn’t bother to acknowledge whoever it was, I really didn’t give a damn. I just hug the pillow and keep my head down as I hear the sound of footsteps. I had cried so much that my voice was tired.

“Sweetheart? You home?” Ricky’s voice calls as he gets closer. I don’t answer.

Ricky finally approaches me, and frowns when he finds me like this. He crouches down to my level and gently takes my face.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Why are you crying?” He asks softly, his voice filled with worry.

“Bad day…really bad day..” I mutter, my voice on the verge of cracking.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I shake my head in response. Ricky nods. “That’s perfectly okay. Have you eaten yet?”

Shit. Ricky hated whenever I didn’t get the chance to eat. I gulp and look away. Ricky frowns again.

“I’m going to take that as a no.” He says with a sigh, then places his hand on my leg. “You need to eat, sweetheart.”

“Not hungry..” I mumble. That was a lie. I was starving, but I didn’t want to get up and eat.

“Uh uh. We’re not doing that. You need to eat.” Ricky stands. “Here’s what we’re gonna do. You’re gonna go take a nice shower while I make food, change into comfy clothes and then we’re gonna have a movie marathon on the couch. I’m not letting you be sad.”

That actually sounded pretty nice. I nod and sit up, rubbing my eyes. Ricky extends his hand and I take it as he helps me up. He walks with me to the bathroom and places his hands on my shoulders.

“Just relax, okay? Take your time while I cook pasta. I know it’s your favorite.”

My eyes light up a little. “Thanks Rick..”

Ricky smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Of course baby, you deserve the best. Now go shower, okay?”

“Mhm..”

Ricky pulls away and leaves the bathroom so I can shower. I undress and turn on the shower. I end up taking a nice, long everything shower using all of my favorite smelling products. It made me feel a bit better.

I step out of the shower in my towel and walk into the bedroom. I put on my favorite body lotion and put my hair in a jaw clip. I change into comfy clothes and leave the bedroom.

When I walk into the kitchen, the smell of cooked pasta greets me. Ricky was almost done. I walk up behind him and wrap my arms around his torso, nuzzling my face into his back. Ricky turns his head and looks down at me with a smile.

“Hey beautiful. Have a nice shower?”

“Mhm…”

“Good. Dinner’s ready, go sit.”

I nod and let go of Ricky, a little sad to let go due to him being so warm, and smelling good too. I go to sit at the table.

Ricky plates the pasta and walks over, setting a plate down in front of me. I pick up my fork and waste no time devouring my pasta.

Ricky smiles as he watches me eat. “So much for not being hungry, huh?” I hum in response as I finish my first plate. I happily get up to grab another.

“You always make it just the way I like it, thank you.” I say as I sit back down, picking my fork up again and eating.

“It’s no trouble, really. I knew it would make you happy. It’s easy to make as well.”

We finish eating and Ricky sets the dishes aside in the sink, saving them for later. He grabs my hand and leads me over to the couch. He pulls me with him to cuddle. He sits me in his lap and wraps his arms around me. I lean into him, resting my head against his shoulder.

“You didn’t have to do this for me, Rick..” I say softly as he turns on the tv.

“I wanted to, baby. I never want to see you sad.” Ricky says as he settles on a movie, sets the remote down, and pets my hair. “It makes me sad seeing you upset.”

I nestle into him, nuzzling my face into his tattooed neck. “You always know what to say, and how to make me feel better. I love you..”

Ricky presses a kiss into my hair and pulls me closer. “I love you too, sweetheart. I’m always here for you.”

“You’re the best.”

We spend the rest of the night cuddling on the couch and watching movies until I end up falling asleep. Ricky carries me into our shared bedroom and lays me down on the bed. He pulls the covers over me and kisses my forehead. He lays on his side and wraps an arm over me. It isn’t long until he’s asleep as well.

He always made everything better.

[monstersinthecosmos]

First, you write a lengthy post claiming that Marius treats Armand like an animal, and then you wonder why Armand and Marius shippers are seen as outcasts in the fandom. You present humiliation, disrespect and devaluation as something sexual and normal in their relationship. There is a difference between not seeing Armand as an adult and independent person and not seeing him as a person at all. Like, you're literally doing ALL the work for the antis, LMAO.

If Marius sees Armand as a cat, then maybe he shouldn't be left alone with animals

just saying.

Like, 'Armand, Marius picked up a shepherd dog from the street today. You both share the same level of love, respect, and significance! 😍 But don’t be upset; being someone's dog can be great! And remember, you actually like it! 🥺'

BEST GASLIGHTING EVER

Maybe he’s okay with this situation because he doesn’t remember what real kindness feels like? Roleplay in bed for the sake of temporary humiliation is one thing, but to see someone you’re in a romantic relationship with as nothing more than an animal is just messed up. What are you even talking about? 😭

Yknow what.

I’ve been marinating on this all day and thinking about ways to respond kindly, because I think leveraging literacy at people in fandom arguments is really fucked up and that isn’t the person I want to be. I've even had my own journey in VC fandom because when I first joined Tumblr, the big meta writers were condescending as fuck and used to make me feel really stupid for liking Marius, and that's such a destructive and unwelcoming attitude. It took me a really long time to feel brave enough to even share meta, because of those folks, and now I have to worry about you chodes. And it's just a never ending Sisyphean task to cultivate a space where Marius fans feel safe. And that's for EVERY Marius fan, not just the ones you deign pure & good enough to exist. In fact, it even goes for all the book fans in general. I don't give a fuck if someone likes Marius--everyone is allowed to participate if they're not going out of their way to hurt people. You're an adult. Block people and curate your space, it's not my job to do that for you.

Everyone, at every reading level, is allowed to participate in fandom, and I think we can’t be true leftists if we don’t acknowledge the education problem in the US. (Assuming you’re American because Americans Feelings Yakuza tend to behave like this but if you’re not American, good job blending in, it's really embarrassing for you.) I don’t think I can ethically condemn the degradation of our education system and I don’t think I can condemn this sect of fandom’s violent anti-intellectualism if I don’t also show sympathy for its victims. I'm really sorry that your parents/teachers/whoever failed you this badly and I hope things get better for you, because I don't wish this on anybody.

So when I turn into a cunt in thirty seconds, I want you to know it’s not because I think you’re stupid. It’s because I think you’re a fucking asshole. <3  And I don’t care what the fuck your problem is, it’s YOUR problem, and we don’t have to tolerate this type of thought policing and fascism in a fandom space. You don’t get to talk to me like this just because you don’t like stuff that I write.

Having said that, I also am just, particularly fucking baffled by how incoherent and ideologically unsound this ask is, not to mention how blindingly, willfully ignorant it is. Like, I hate to say this, but it’s SO stupid that I almost can’t believe someone would actually say this to me, and it makes me wonder if you’re like, an outside agitator pretending to be one of these Mariusblr morons to bait me. So I wondered if I shouldn’t validate it with a response, but then I thought,

Fandom deserves to see this lol

You actually did a good job of imitating this attitude that I DO see, for real, in this fandom, so like maybe it’s a public service to bait me to get me to talk about it. So I guess I will.

Now, I did talk about this topic here and I said what I need to say. I already said everything I needed to say on the topic of doting upon the cute little mortal, and to send me this anon after reading that post, the reading comprehension is either ABYSMAL or you’re just pulling an OH SO YOU HATE WAFFLES on me which is like. Why. Lol.

And I can’t help someone who’s determined to misinterpret everything I will ever say, no matter what. But again, I’m kinda posting this as a fandom PSA because this is a great example of the braindead nonsense that goes on in Mariusblr and I think the people deserve to laugh at you lol, so if you want to misinterpret me some more, I can’t help you.

We’re not gonna discuss Marius in this post. What we’re going to discuss is the idea that “””THE ANTIS””” are out to get us, and the irony of couching anti hysteria in this exact message.

So let’s go back to basics and refresh on what the fuck a fandom anti is.

So when you talk about FANDOM ANTIS, I actually have to ask: Babe are you seeing yourself right now? Are these antis in the fucking room? Is the call coming from inside the house?

You don’t get to have a little bit of censorship, or a little bit of harassment.  If someone outside of our fandom saw this post, without the existing context of who Marius and Armand are, they’d think YOU were the anti for telling me how to interpret this ship, not to mention whatever the fuck is this weird kinkshaming. Censorship is bad, full stop. It's not, censorship is only bad when it's the thing I like. Same for leaving people twatty anons. Bullying people is still bad, and you don't get decide who deserves it.

You don’t get to cry about antis and then pop into people’s inboxes to ridicule them because they didn’t read the book the same way you did. You don’t get to lecture me about kink and ship dynamics. YOU ARE NOT FIGHTING ON THE SIDE YOU THINK YOU’RE FIGHTING ON.

And isn’t it ironic that I’ve been Mariusing on tumblr for like, unfortunately, eight fucking years now lmao RIP, and I’ve been harassed about Marius MORE by you fuckin dweebs than I have by the actual antis.

Now, again.

I never want to tease anyone for their reading comprehension. I’m not making fun of you. I’m gonna spell this out because I want to help you, because I can see that reading isn’t your strong suit.

The fight about antis & proshippers & censorship is not a crusade about character apologism and defending ships as being moral, it’s about distinguishing fiction from reality and allowing people to enjoy fucked up art.

You aren’t accomplishing what you think you’re accomplishing here. Like, first of all. I don’t give a single flying fuck about “”the antis””. Let them masturbate in abject shame in the privacy of their pitch black bedrooms. It’s not my business. What horrifies me here is that you yourself are the anti in this situation.

You are in my inbox scolding me for my amoral shipping.

You are in my inbox upset with me because I celebrated that a ship I like is fucked up.

A proshipper would’ve read my post and gone “Eh. I disagree but that’s okay.” And kept scrolling. Maybe they even block me! That’s fine too!

But how the fuck are you gonna sit there crying about antis when you’re the one harassing everybody lol.

And let’s not jerk off here; the sincerity with which you are complaining about antis in my inbox is SO fucking lame. Like can we please go outside?

I’m no stranger to fandom drama (like I said, I’ve been Marius Tumbling for like 8 years and I’ve done my time in Sheith Hell) and I understand when these terms are useful shorthand for a fandom-specific problem. But I also think, what if we grow up and speak honestly about what antis are? It really blunts the harm of the entire ideology, especially when you're misusing it this egregiously, and I think there are times when we deserve to take censorship and fascism seriously, because it's not a coincidence that it's spreading inside fandom at the same speed it's spreading outside in the real world, and I want you to think really hard about which side you're on.

Like, what if we use the term “conservative” or “Frollo” or “fandom police” or “FANDOM MAGA” ?? You come to me upset that I’m somehow giving some boogeyman ammunition when like. THEY ALREADY HATE MARIUS, WHO THE FUCK CARES. When you change the topic from “Fiction is allowed to be fucked up” to “It’s okay to like Marius because he actually didn’t do anything wrong” you’re COMPLETELY missing the point, and in the same motion you are upset with ME for implying that Marius did something wrong.

And it’s so fucking hypocritical? Like this is the same as when the fandom conservatives have ACAB in their bio while also harassing people--you are adopting language to fit into an identity when you don't actually understand what you're saying. I would've thought VC fans--especially Marius fans--would be more aware of cult behavior & groupthink and see the red flags more easily. (Again, having sympathy for you: Please escape this cult.)

How often do we see arguments break out in fandom where we go “If you’re upset with Marius, why aren’t you upset with everyone else?” Or like, I CAN ACCEPT THE MURDERING AND RAPE BUT DRAW THE LINE AT WHIPPING THE 17 YEAR OLD. Like. Where do YOU draw the line?

Is it okay to talk about Marius as a murderer? But we’re not allowed to say that he has some emotional problems? Also didn't one of you chucklefucks accuse me of being ablest lmao the irony.

It’s also fascinating that this camp in fandom is constantly crying about how like, antis DON’T UNDERSTAND ANNE RICE and how MARIUS/ARMAND IS CANON and yet …………………. Was anything I said not also canon? And where do you get the balls to use Anne Rice as a shield when she also said the same things that I said. She wrote the fucking book.

You know what.

I feel really strongly that like, in a fandom, people need to have better etiquette when they complain about THE THING vs THE FANS OF THE THING. For example, I have zero problem with someone coming out of TVA disgusted and triggered and writing analysis of Marius being a disgusting creep. We don’t have the right to tell someone not to feel that way.

What I DO have a problem with is when people say “Marius is a disgusting creep and his fans are gross for enjoying it.”

And what YOURE saying, essentially, is that I’m gross for enjoying Marius in the way I read him.

Not to be like, a fucking, egomaniac, but. I have to say this lol. Do you know who I am?

Are you new here?

Have I not worked hard enough to establish that he’s my favorite literary character of all time and I adore him to death?

But I have different headcanons than you so I’m a bad person?

Anyway.

This has gone on long enough, I think I’ve made my point.

I genuinely can’t tell if someone like ChatGPT’d this anon to me just to rile me up and get me mad at that side of Mariusblr, but the truth is that like. I’ve seen them say these things. I’ve been blocked by these folks. Every time I write meta where I acknowledge that Marius isn’t perfect, they vague me to fuck. So honestly like. It’s not out of the range of possibility and I’m going to take this opportunity to talk about it because some of us are fucking normal about a book and we just want to have fun and post meta and write fics and like. If you don’t like my meta and fics you can simply move along.

And you know what else!!

WE ALL SEE THIS. You make fandom uncomfortable for everybody. Every time I do acknowledge this, I get people in my inbox talking about how uncomfortable you’ve made them and how they became hurt and decided not to share in fandom anymore. That’s you doing that. It isn’t ~ the antis ~. It’s you, because you don’t let anybody enjoy the books the way they want to enjoy the books. And I think it’s really interesting that I’ve noticed that half of fandom sort of cannibalizing itself lately. And I don’t think it’s a coincidence that  this whole group of clowns blocked me around the same time, when their jackass ringleader originally got mad at me for flagrantly misunderstanding something I said. This is that same abysmal reading comprehension and violent anti-intellectualism coming back to bite you in the ass. And so like, I have to also ask, if you have some issue with me, maybe consider the source, and if this person is perhaps a complete douchebag who will cannibalize their own friends the second they step out of line. And I wonder if there are any receipts for my alleged atrocious behavior, or if I was always just minding my own business and writing fanfic and sharing meta and being nice to people, and encouraging people to ship whatever they want, and allowing people to read the book differently than I did.

You don’t get to tell people what type of content they’re allowed to create. If you’re very concerned about how people read Marius, maybe write your own meta. This is MY space, not yours, and you’re not going to kinkshame and censor me, and you’re not going to bully me.

This is ridiculous and you’re a joke.

[papaziggy-devblog]

Can we please acknowledge that whoever this person is they are being like… creepy stalkerish levels of weird towards Lily?

Yeah actually, I think everyone should point that out. I just see stuff from the outside obvi [lowkey shy lurker here] but I feel like Lilith gets a lot of this weird and creepy mistreatment from people and it's really disturbing.

They've said they're disabled, and in that recent reblog they said they're actively dying. That in itself sounds hard enough to grapple with, and tbh, I feel like nobody is entitled to that information except Lilith. We should only know that if they want us to know that, not because some people have decided they're lazy [which, again, what the fuck anon, I can't even articulate the bonkers insanity of this] and they've been pressured to say it. It's not our business or something any of us are entitled to know.

It's actually freaky the unique levels of fucked up things Lilith faces just because they're disabled and open about it. It to me looks like this pretty scary mix of entitlement and ableism from those kinds of anons who are talking about Lilith that way, and frankly, cyberstalking them. The targeted hate they get is unnerving, and I think those anons really need to reflect on why they think Lilith is "lazy" or "making excuses". Since, honestly, it looks like they're saying that because Lilith is disabled, and that's just full-stop fucked up. They seem incredibly strong, in fact, doing what they love doing no matter the challenges in their way.

They should be given praise for that, not dealing with entitled morons who are upset things don't move "fast enough".

This

Omg all of this

You hit the nail on the head and then slapped it right across the ass for good measure

[fandomworld9728]

Bad Day (Soft Alastor/Lucifer)

(Requested by @shadesofyoos) (Apologies. I got a little carried away with it. Have some angst with your soft RadioApple) (I hope you enjoy)

It was a bad day for Lucifer. Most of his days were and he had gotten used to it. At least before all the changes in his life. After he reconnected with his daughter and moved into her hotel, those bad days became less and less. But that meant that when they happened, were harder to ignore and push through.

Too many thoughts swirling around his head. Too many memories haunting him. Too many voices kicking him while he was down and constantly reminding him of everything that he hated about himself. He knew he needed help, but he didn't want to worry his precious daughter or bother any of her friends.

So, he did what he did best. Locked himself away in his room and tried to distract himself. And when that failed, he laid in his bed wrapped up in his wings until it passed. Lucifer wasn't sure how long he had laid there. Long enough for someone to come check on him it seems.

Did Charlie finally get tired of him ignoring her calls and texts and decide to come see what was happening for himself? He hoped not. He doesn't want her to see him like this. He was a broken, pathetic excuse of a man. Of an angel. Of a king. Of a father- and he was spiraling again.

Whoever had come in didn't say anything. Only closed the door and slowly walked over to the bed. Lucifer pulled his wings tighter around himself. Why couldn't he just be alone right now? It's what he deserves. After everything he's done and everyone he's pushed away.

The thoughts all became silent at once as a clawed, gloved hand gently and uncertainly placed itself on top of his head. It most definitely wasn't Charlie. He was equal parts grateful and freaked the fuck out. There was no way... right? Peeking out from his wings, he saw the Radio Demon sitting on the edge of his bed trying to comfort him. A silent question left lingering in the air. Why?

With an annoyed sigh, the taller demon kicked off his shoes and swung his legs over to lay beside him on the bed. "I am aware we do not get along at the best of times. However, you took care of me when I was too stubborn to ask for assistance and was slowly dying for that moron Adam's attack."

"That can't be the only reason..." His voice was quiet and scratchy from how long he's gone without talking. And how much he's cried. "Besides, I did that for Charlie- I... I-I mostly did it for Charlie."

Truth be told, Lucifer had to come secretly care for the sinner. Not that he would ever admit it out loud. When he started to care for people, they left him.

"Then you should understand my reasoning for doing this. Haven't you noticed that I have yet to move my hand from your head?"

Alastor? Caring for Lucifer? He couldn't believe it. Mostly because the more he stayed in denial the easier it was to pretend that he didn't care for him in return. Though, just this once, he could allow himself that selfish hope. Uncurling his wings, he allowed Alastor to pull him close and hold his head to his chest. Sighing in content, Lucifer slowly relaxed and let someone take care of him.

Just this once.

[mxtxfanatic]

JC better be fucking glad that the whole "i was given a boon from BSSR b/c of my mom" thing was just a lie made up for the Golden Core transfer. that could have been the last fucking thing WWX has from his mother and he just has zero qualms about taking it. both he and his mother truly believe WWX owes them all that he has, including his life, his gratitude, and the memories of the parents he barely remembers.

JC screams "you're the reason my parents and sister are gone!". yeah? well your mom has been actively taking away and destroying the memory of WWX's parents and you just proved that you'd also do the same if given the opportunity.

an actual brother (blood or not) would show concern about what WWX was offering to sacrifice. JC did not, not even years later.

Jiang Cheng lives his life by what he believes others owe him, not what he actually owes others. Even when he knows he owes someone else, he will not repay it if he sees the debt as a "hardship."

Wei WuXian finally lost his temper, “Jiang Cheng! What- What do you think you’re talking about?! Take it back—don’t make me give you a thrashing! Don’t forget. Who was the one that helped us burn Uncle Jiang’s and Madam Yu’s corpses? Who returned to us the ashes that are in Lotus Pier right now? And who took us in when we were chased after by Wen Chao?!” Jiang Cheng, “I’m the one who fucking wants to give you a thrashing! Yes, they helped us before, but why in the world don’t you understand that right now any remnant of the Wen Sect is a target of criticism! No matter who they are, with a surname of Wen they have committed a most heinous crime! And those who protect the Wen are at risk of being condemned by everyone! All the people loathe the Wen-dogs so badly that the worse they die the better. Whoever protects them is against the entire world. Nobody would speak for them, and nobody would speak for you either!”

—Chapt. 73: Recklessness, exr

[Jiang Cheng] could manage to tolerate others, but definitely not Wen Ning, the Wen-dog who put his hand through Jin ZiXuan’s heart and ended both his sister’s happiness and her life. Just a look, and he felt the urge to kill him right there. How dare he step foot on the earth of Lotus Pier—he really was looking for his death!

—Chapt. 89: Loyalty, exr

With a shove, Jiang Cheng pushed aside the panicking Jin Ling who was supporting his side. Though he was already losing blood, blood still rushed to his head in his anger, making his face cycle through shades of white and red. He spat, “What gives you the right? Wei WuXian, what gives you the fucking right?” From behind Lan WangJI, Wei WuXian said stiffly, “What right?” Jiang Cheng replied, “How much has my family given for you? I’m his son. I’m the heir of the Yunmeng Jiang Sect. But all those years, I was never enough next to you. Their love, their dedication, even their life! The lives of my father, mother, older sister, and even Jin ZiXuan! Because of you, all that’s left now is an orphaned Jin Ling!” ... “And then look what happened? You went to shelter some outsider, haha! From the Wen Sect, of all people. How many years did you eat their food and drink their water?! You betrayed us in an instant without any hesitation! What do you think my family is to you?! Endless good deeds, you’ve done them all, whilst every fuck-up was always because you had no choice! You ‘had no choice’! What difficulties can’t you explain?! What hardship must you hide?! Hardship?! You don’t tell me anything, you treat me like a moron!!! “How much do you owe my family? Shouldn’t I hate you?! Couldn’t I hate you?! What gives you the right to suddenly make me feel like I should be the one that’s sorry?! What gives you the right to make me feel like some fucking clown after all these years?! What the hell am I?! Do I only deserve to be blinded by your glory, by your light?! Shouldn’t I hate you?!”

—Chapt. 103: A Hatred for a Life Part 6, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

Jiang Cheng, on the other hand, looked about ready to lose his mind on the spot. He said, “You? You?!” The force of the punch had been too powerful. Not only did it go right through Wen Ning’s chest, the shock of it also shattered part of his vocal chords. Unable to form a single word, he fell towards the ground. ... Wei WuXian and Lan WangJi went to the corner. Wen Ning was still half-collapsed onto Jiang Cheng and Jin Ling in an awkward position. Wei WuXian laid him flat on the ground. After studying the dark hole on his chest, he fretted, “Look at you......What should I use to fill this now?” Wen Ning asked, “Young Master, is it serious......?” Wei WuXian said, “It’s not serious. You don’t need the organs here anyways. But it looks bad.” Wen Ning replied, “It’s not like I asked to look good......” Jiang Cheng was silent.

—Chapts. 107-108: Concealment Parts 1 & 2, boat-full-of-lotus-pods

[mrstevenss]

'Good to see you again'

Boyd decided to drink one night and Khatri shows up when Boyds at his worst (as per usual). A silly romantic Boyd/Khatri fic with some SLIGHT angst. No smut!!

Has stuff like drinking, grief and self deprecation (common boyd activities) also from spoilers!!!

───★ ˙ ̟ ( •́︿•̀)(╥﹏╥ ) ˙ ̟★───

———————————————————

Six hours. A solid 6 hours since Boyd had finished up his usual routine of ringing that bell for the townspeople, and he hasn’t managed to fall to sleep yet. Whenever he tries to, something jolts him awake. Or maybe he’s just stressed. Not everything that happens here has to be some weird, otherworldly creature trying to mess with his head.

Although, that makes him feel worse. He’s come face to face with monsters that could’ve ripped him to shreds in an instant, yet he can’t deal with what is essentially a tummy ache.

Boyd groaned, rubbing his eyes sore. He felt so incredibly stupid for that. He’s the sheriff. He’s supposed to be a leader. Can’t just call in sick because he feels like it, at that point he might as well go out and tell everyone he gives up and that they should too.

Boyd huffed out, idly pushing himself left and right on his chair. ‘Can’t break me…’

he pulled himself into his desk, splayed his arms out and rested his head flat. Must be his hundredth time trying to sleep by now.

‘Can’t afford to be broken…’

He struggled to get comfortable over his desk. Trying to rest on the desk itself was too cold and stiff, putting his weight over his hands just hurt… Even once he managed to get comfortable, he couldn’t help but go back to thinking about everything. He’s got no one. His wife’s dead, his friend’s dead, the town barely trusts him, he’s not even sure whether his son loves him or not… He’s failing. Both as the sheriff and as Boyd.

He adjusted the position of his head slightly, facing left, then right, trying his hardest to drift off. Still couldn’t. With an annoyed groan, Mr. sheriff forced his eyes open, accepting he won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Once his eyes opened, he realised he just so happened to be staring right at that bottle of whatever-the-fuck he got from Khatri.

…

One hour later, Boyd Stevens was drunk.

“I-… Needa find somewhere to jusst…” Boyd heaved. “…Lie doownnn…”. He stumbled down the hall, turning to enter one of the cells. Those were the only beds there, and lord knows that’s comfier than his desk.

“Pshh, t-talkin’ to myself… Ssound like a…” He hiccuped. “…Damn moron.”

Boyd carelessly dropped himself onto the edge of the cell bed, having to hold his head with his free hand just to avoid face planting onto the ground. More brain damage is the absolute last thing on his bucket list tonight.

Boyd heaved, deep breath after deep breath, attempting to keep himself grounded. Or just about as grounded as he can be right now. Eventually, he got back to being able to keep his head straight.

Lifting his legs up onto the bed, Boyd backed up to the end of the bed, sitting one of his legs up to keep his hand steady and resting his back onto the corner of the wall. He rubbed his face with his free hand, before letting it flop down to rest on his thigh.

“Fucking…” Boyd panted. He could feel so much, yet nothing at all, all at the same time. He felt like he hated himself, yet he felt so insanely good. Wanted to get up for a run, wanted to lay down and never get up again. Blah blah blah. Boyd rolled his head back, almost forgetting there was a wall there, giving himself a little sore on his dome. Whatever. Tomorrows problem. But also right nows problem…? Doesn’t matter. Does it? God damn.

Tap, tap. The quiet sound of footsteps grazed Boyds ears. Although, he didn’t feel alarmed. Maybe it was the drink, but he felt completely calm listening to this- whoever- was approaching him right now. Almost like he already knew them.

The steps paused, and an audible exhale was heard just a couple feet away from him. He could already tell who it was- why could he already tell who the fuck it was. Boyd didn’t even open his eyes, just kept his head against the wall and waited for some snarky comment to come out of his know-it-all mouth.

“I know you’re awake.” A familiar, irritating voice spoke to Boyd. Trying his hardest to ignore him, he kept still.

Father Khatri sighed. “Come on, I’m not stupid.”

Boyd groaned. This guy always managed to see right through him.

He let his head down, struggling to keep it steady, opening his eyes to see Khatri leaning on the door frame, arms crossed and eyes already piercing into his soul. “Heeyyy, dead priest.” Boyd croaked, giving him a little half assed wave.

“Mmh.” Khatri nodded. He glanced at the bottle that Boyd had sitting in his hand, noticing that it was just about empty. “You like that, Boyd?”

Yeah, that did something to Boyd. He feels something- doesn’t know where, or what… but that definitely made him feel something.

Boyd just stared at Khatri idly while trying to process what the fuck was going on. Both with him and this ghost of his best friend thats been haunting him for so long.

“Yeah, well… You’re welcome.” Khatri awkwardly said in response to Boyds… nothing. The sheriff kept his glare on him, eyeing him up and down at times.

“Anyone ever tell you it’s rude to stare?”

“I’m waitin’ for you to fucking go away.” Boyd slurred. “D-Do I have to… look away? Or-or something? Is that it? You shy, Khatri?” He teased, giggling to himself a little.

“I didn’t say I was going anywhere, did I?” Khatri. Fucking Khatri, always so bland. That’s if he’s not berating someone about whatever-whenever.

“Man… I’m- was joking… fuck, h-have some fun! Man!” Boyds voice cracked. “You’re… you’re fucking boring sometimes, I swear… just a dumb, boring fuckin’… priest…”

“That’s funny,” Khatri looked down at the floor, then over to Boyd. “coming from an out-of-control sheriff who not only fails to keep his people safe, but is now hurting them himself? Torturing them, himself?”

Boyd paused. Immediately he knew Khatri was absolutely correct about this. Once again, this guy always manages to see through him and all his shit.

“What’s wrong? Thought I was a ‘dumb, boring priest’? I just had to ‘have some fun’ didn’t I? I did what you a-“

“Just shut the fuck up, Khatri!” Boyd slightly raised his voice. “Please, man. W-Would you just stop for once???” He lowered his tone back down, knowing he was wrong here.

The two sat in the room together, pretty much dead silent besides father Khatris idle tapping against the floor and Boyds heavy breathing.

“Truth hurts, doesn’t it?” Khatri broke the silence.

Boyd groaned. “And you think I haven’t learned that yet? You know- m-my truth hurts more than anything, M-Mr. fuckin’ priest guy!”

Khatri just kept leaning onto the doorway, arms still crossed, like he was permanently pissed off.

“You haven’t lost what I have, Khatri. I-I lost my wife, my kid probably doesn’t ff-fucking love me anymore, and I fucking-“ Boyds voice angry and cracking, nearly beginning to whine. “A-And I miss you, man. Stupid d- y- you should be alive right now!” He pointed at Khatri, swishing around the little liquid that was left.

“I’ve lost things too, Boyd!” Khatri slightly raised his voice. “Maybe if you stopped acting like you’re the only person suffering right now, you’d realise that.”

“Yeah, what’d you lose? your mind?!” Boyd quickly managed to choke out another snarky comment.

“Oh I don’t know, my whole life?!” He snapped. “I could’ve done so much out there- I could’ve helped so many people! But now I’m stuck here, aren’t I? And it’s taken everything from me. Even you.” Khatri locked eyes with Boyd, who’s face dropped hearing that. “I lost you, Boyd.”

“D…Did you now?” He mumbled.

“Yeah, I did.” The priest responded. “You’re one of the worst men I ever met… but I liked you. I liked you a lot”

Boyd grinned. “Yeah, c-could say the same thing back to you, Khatri. Y-You creeped me the hell out sometimes, you know that? W-Was that on purpose? Bet it was.”

Father Khatri looked down, smiling to himself, nearly letting out a laugh.

“You creepy motherfucker- w-was that a smile?” Boyd shuffled to the edge of the bed to sit closer towards Khatri, as if he’s trying to find proof some mythical creature.

“F-Finally got you to smile, didn’t I? Never thought I’d see the day.“ Boyd hopped up off the bed and immediately realised; standing upright is not one of his strengths right now.

With Boyds whole world spinning, he stumbled forward, damn near toppling father Khatri onto the floor. “Woah, Boyd- Jesus-“ He gently caught Boyd in his arms, now trying to keep him upright and steady.

Boyd quieted down, shuffling his feet a little to get the right stance, and nestled his head into the crook of his best friends neck. He reached down to gently drop the bottle beside the two of them, before wrapping his arms behind Khatris back. Boyd gripped onto his cardigan, “D-Don’t let go.” He whispered, slightly muffled by Khatris neck. “I missed you so much- j-just let me have this…”

Khatri nodded, rubbing his hand up and down Boyds back in an attempt to comfort him- If that’s what he even needs right now.

Boyd shuffled his position around, moving up until his lips made contact with Khatris bare skin, where he subconsciously began to lay gentle, yet deep and long kisses.

Khatri took note of this, although he wasn’t surprised. Wasn’t bothered by it, either.

Abruptly, Boyd pulled away, breathing heavily.

“I…I fucking… missed you…” Boyd panted, once again pointing that finger in his friends face. “So much.”

Khatri said nothing, he simply looked back at Boyd in anticipation. Who knows what he should expect from him at this point? Especially in this state.

Suddenly, Boyd clasped onto the other mans shoulders, roughly pinning him to the wall. Without giving him a chance to speak, he pressed his lips right up against Khatris, probably giving him a good taste of what he’s been drinking this past hour. Immediately he settled into the kiss, resting his hands on the sheriffs waist and kissing him back like he was something to be worshipped.

Boyd desperately tried to get closer to Khatri, shuffling his feet closer to try and close that small gap they had between them, though the stiff wall made that difficult. The man ripped Khatri off the wall, separating their lips for a moment, and playfully tackled him onto the cell bed.

The two adjusted their positions to both be on their sides facing one another. Boyd rested his palm on Khatris face, pulling him back in for another quick peck.

“God damn…” Boyd pulled away, admiring all the priests features. “…Y-Your beard feels like a bunch a’ needles.” He snickered.

Father Khatri let out a small laugh, looking back at his friend with a loving smile. “Yours feels like a bush.” Khatri caressed the back of his hand along Boyds jaw, feeling his beard with his fingers.

Wrapping his arms around him, Boyd pulled Khatri in close, having Khatri resting his head over his shoulder. They both tangled their legs together and felt the world around them go quiet to give them their, much-needed, moment of peace. The both of them wanted nothing more than to stay here forever, feeling like this would be closest thing to heaven on earth either of them will experience. They should’ve done this so much sooner.

“Uh, Boyd?” Kenny gently called out.

Boyd opened his eyes, looking down to realise he had himself in full fetal-position wrapped around a plain white pillow. He looked up, realising it was broad daylight and Kenny was standing by the doorway.

“I uh, haven’t seen you all day. Was starting to get worried.” Kenny glanced down, seeing the empty bottle sitting next to the door. “…Rough night, huh?”

Boyd took one arm off the pillow and used it to prop himself up. He looked away from his deputy and back at the pillow.

“Are… you alright?…” Kenny slowly spoke.

Snapping himself out of it, “Uh- yeah, yeah I’m fine.” Boyd assured him. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be out soon, promise.”

Kenny nodded, still sensing that something was wrong. He respected Boyds wishes, turning around and heading for the exit of the post office.

———————————————————

UGHH THIS WAs SO EMBARRASSING I haven’t written anything in literal years I’m scared I’ve gotten a bit rusty😭😭 but yeah hope you enjoyed blah blah I LOVEE THESE TWO!!!❤️❤️ also why does khatri never smile or laugh or feel anything positive it freaks me out he’s genuinely so scary 😕

also yall… genuine question for future fics and whatnot… where does boyd sleep?!? like genuinely. was there a bed somewhere in the post office that I missed or does he sleep in the cells or on his desk??? has to be somewhere in the post office because as far as I know he lives there😭😭 oml if theres a bed that was like right next to his bed Im just gonna say he was drunk so it like slipped his mind or whatever pls💔

[canonizzyhours]

“Istg if I see another moron making an edit that overlaps Izzy's speech about piracy and belonging with images of Stede and/or Ed or even using the whole crew while deliberately excluding only Izzy from it I'm going to fucking set something on fire”

“It’s about belonging to something” is one of the thesis statements of OFMD. It doesn’t belong to Izzy alone and it doesn’t just apply to his story. Community is what the show is about.

Stede, a man who was isolated and in every way a misfit at home, really did find a family at sea. He brought his crew together, and his kinder ways of pirating changed them and served as a catalyst for their radical kindness and forgiveness in season two. This man created a safe community in an environment that usually fosters fear and violence and mistrust.

Ed was also isolated, not just from others but also from himself. He didn’t have friends. His closest companion was Izzy, someone whose sole purpose in life was keeping him trapped in his Blackbeard persona. In the course of the show, he learned who he was, embraced a community, and then had to work to earn that community’s forgiveness after a grave misstep. 

Jim abandoned a life of revenge for a life of love. They carried on Stede’s work in his absence and helped keep the Kraken crew together and sane. The Kraken crew held on to hope that Ed would recover. They helped Izzy even though they had every reason to hate him. 

And Izzy delivered our thesis statement because, more than anyone, he was impacted by the power of a community. The crew was kind to him even though he rejected them at every turn. They made him a prosthetic leg. Wee John taught him to apply makeup and everyone celebrated his drag moment. This community was good to him because that’s what they DO, and that kindness transformed him.

It’s not about glory. It’s not about being the most successful, competent, or terrifying pirate. It’s not about being hailed as a hero. It’s about belonging to a community that accepts you and allows you to make mistakes and grow. 

Izzy was not given this line because he’s the most important character. “It’s about belonging to something” is about everyone. No one’s stealing Izzy’s words, and it’s actually okay to take the core message of the show and use it in any way that feels fitting. 

It’s a beautiful message! I hope that you all feel like you belong to something, whoever your favorite blorbo is.

#430.

[hijinxinprogress]

YouTuber!Stephanie

Stephanie has a youtube channel (she 100% gives it a name like gotham_after_dark or bat_interpreter) where she follows Batman and mocks him, she definitely also makes content on tiktok and instagram

She’s recording fights with rogues and him interrogating questioning people and doing voice overs in a goofiest growl she can for batman but she also does voices for everyone else (it gets to the point where penguin puts a hit out and is actively trying to expose the youtubers identity bc steph does this terrible whiny british accent when she’s imitating penguin)

She starts her channel right after Bruce fires her from Robin and still does it to this day

Bc if she’s gonna get shit for not being Tim might as well go all the way right?? She’s just doing the opposite of what Tim’s doing or outright copying him depending on which would annoy them the most

Stephanie records batman dangling some guy off a roof for the 37th time this week while going “You said the cheese on the nachos at your restaurant was imported directly from Italy but I saw you…THIS CHEESE IS FROM A GROCERY STORE…in GOTHAM… do you know what batman does to liars??”

Batman’s chasing the joker? Again? Here comes Stephanie with her fucking camera “Joker baby, you know that fight with Cobblepot meant nothing to me” “You know what, Bats? Fight whoever you want!” “Why are you going to Cobblepot’s lair with a grenade launcher? Baby…?” “Well, if the wellbeing of fucking Oswald is sooo important to you, you fucking cheater ☹️ I’m gonna kill him” “HUH” Stephanie’s joker voice is pretty good but she stops when Jason follows her channel after admitting he watches it (however Damian gives zero fucks and edits in his scarily accurate joker impression and will break into Jason’s apartment at random to do his joker impression)

Stephanie’s Duke impression is just her making puns in a bad robot voice and Duke hates it sm bc she’s saying shit like “Don’t signal for backup bc I’m already Signal-ing this ass whooping” “The yellow is the Signal for you to run” “Hey hey hey, night time is when you do this stupid shit rn is Signal Time” “The sun is my Signal to be vigilant-y” “Setting off that alarm should’ve been enough of a Signal for you stop” (Dick made tshirts and Duke refuses to talk to him when he wears them)

You legally have to be a level 79 hater to be a vigilante in gotham so most of Steph’s videos esp after Bruce has pissed her off are just her shitting on batman in a terrible growl “Damn, I’m getting too old for this…my knees hurt so much” “Nightwing thinks he’s funny, asking me if I remember the dust bowl…mf I remember the fucking big bang” “I’m so good at this, I don’t think anyone knows I’m a vampire” “Bruce Wayne owns gotham general and can’t cure Alzheimer’s?? I hate that asshole, I don’t even remember where tf I’m going” “I wanted to be Spider-Man and now I’m this” “Ooh, I’m Batman and I hate fun, happiness, and joy” “Don’t do crime, be like me…perpetually bitchless and breaking kneecaps” “Some people need coffee for a pick me up but I just need to see a purse snatcher piss their pants” “I don’t actually meld into the shadows, I just have Apple Maps and it takes me the long way”

Batman’s fighting or arguing with black mask?  Stephanie has been waiting for this moment so every video with black mask is just her making fun of black mask to the point where there’s barely any batman slander “My real names fucking Roman so I had to go all out with this stupid ass costume…I’m not even a real gothamite, I’m from metropolis” “Sionis…I don’t care… you blew up thirteen hostages” “ITS NOT MY FAULT, OKAY?! Did you know you’re supposed to wash masks? Especially if you wear the same one everyday? Bc I fucking didn’t” “…Sionis…” “THERES MOLD ON MY FACE and this mask smells like ASS” “Everyone knows that, you moron…How do you think I found you? I can smell your stench from damn near two miles away…” “I’m like scary though right??” “No, Sionis, you just have poor hygiene…and issues” “Dammit, I’m like a dollar tree version of two face” “Not quite, what’s lower than that? Dollar tree is too good for you…don’t tell joker but Harvey’s way-”

Stephanie has a two hour video of batman grappling across Gotham just shitting on metropolis and sixty seven minutes of it is just Superman slander in a terrible growl

There’s short clips of cass suddenly disappearing or appearing out of nowhere before and after dismantling someone with the michael myers theme playing in the background (Cass does dramatic flips and landings every time steph records her)

When Bruce complains about the threat to their identities and compromising ongoing missions/investigations, Stephanie (who is purposely trying to piss him off) just looks him dead in eye and goes “Well, you’re not the boss of me sooo” so Tim gives a presentation and shuts down every single argument Bruce makes just to be contrary bc he’s a fucking asshole

Tim only has a problem with it when Stephanie and Damian start working together bc Damian  does concerningly accurate impressions and Damian keeps making Tim sound like a fucking idiot and it’s worse bc he can mimic his speech patterns (“I can’t do this anymore… I’m sad and pasty… Call the fifth robin, you know…the only competent robin…”) 

Like Damian’s repeating one of Tim’s caffeine concoction induced rants about bagels in Tim’s voice while Steph is growling at him to focus in her batman impression

When Tim brings his complaints to Bruce about Stephanie’s youtube account, Bruce cites Tim’s own argument back to him so Tim takes over editing and recording to be an asshole

[fuck-customers]

Perfect example of why customer service is a pox on this world and why I hate my fucking job. Sorry this is so long, tried to condense as much as I could.

Guy comes to collect his food, points to the sauces with it and goes "That's it?" Ye. "I want another;" Okie dokie. Take it out to him, he looks pissed, "Seriously? That's all you're gonna give me just one?" We have a policy wherein if customers want extra sauce they have to pay like 10 cents. I explain this to him and say he can have this one extra sauce on the downlow or he can pay for as many as he wants. He sneers and walks away; interaction over right?

WRONG. He comes back later to ask for a takeaway container. I try to be really nice to customers who've been dicks just to make them feel stupid, so I know I did nothing to provoke this when responding by asking what size he'd like: small or large. This guy. This motherfucking guy decided to snark back with "I don't know why don't you be smart and show me the fucking containers?"

I go out back grab both sizes and in a pretty condescending tone go, "Here you go, small or large?"

"Are you serious, was it really that hard to do that? You could've done that the first time without the fucking attitude. Be smart next time."

"Haha k mate, what size container do you want?"

"You know what? I'm gonna go out there and find a manager, I'm gonna report you. You've got a real bad attitude, if you don't wanna be here don't fucking show up."

"Oh you want to report me to my ~manager~? I can call him for you right now! Do you want me to do that sir?"

"Yeah go on, fucking call them! They're gonna look on the cameras and see how you treated me." (He thought the cameras recorded audio, they do not, unfortunatly for me in this instance)

This whole time I haven't raised my voice once even tho he's yelling at me, I'm just keeping that overly saccharine sweet 'you're a moron and I'm patronising you' customer service voice and smile.

Ring my DM and he says he'll be over in five, I relay this to dickhead and he slinks back to the bar to wait.

I go out the back to cool off for 5 then head back out front and resume cleaning. Guess who storms back up to the register in the third part of this shitty trilogy.

"Oh so you're fucking cleaning now are you? Now that you know your manager is coming and you're on camera you're doing your job huh?" (I'm not even exaggerating the swearing, this dude dropped the F bomb almost every single sentence)

"Beg your pardon? I've been cleaning-"

"Yeah bullshit, you just want to look like you're actually working you lazy dog. I know what you're doing."

"Yeah keep talking to me like that and you're getting kicked out the front door!"

Managers showed up at that point and dude was being a dick to them too.

Cherry on top of this whole ordeal? His wife/mother/whoever the hell she was comes up and asks for a container while guy is off to her side arguing with DMs. Me being kinda a dick knowing he's listening/watching go back to default nice customer service attitude infront of him and repeat the same question: small or large? Intentionally neglecting to get the containers in a moment of pettiness. To her credit she did politely ask to see them but when I bring em out has the audacity to say: "See? If you had've just done that the first time he wouldn't have had to react like he did."

No. You. Did. Fucking. Not.

"Actually no, he was the one who decided to make a smart comment first."

"Well if you had've just brought the containers out to begin with-"

"And what stopped him from just asking politely instead of being smart about it?"

"You should've just brought the containers out, then he wouldn't have had to react the way he did."

"He didn't have to react the way he did regardless, he could've just asked me decently and there was no reason to swear at an name call me." At this point I said fuck this and walked off.

Apparently guy made remarks after this to DMs about what he'd 'do to me' if I did that to him again. So if this unhinged motherfucker comes back and reads my body language wrong I could be in shit apparently?? Okay psycho.

Trying to tell my managers to ban him but they're saying unfortunately he'd have to do more then that to be banned so it's off the table atm but they'll review it. They're semi-regulars too so this most likely won't be my last run in with this moron

This is very specific and if, for whatever snowflakes chance in hell, the people who this is about see it and realise this is them and I'm that employee: you're a bunch of dogs with no manners who should stay the fuck home. You've got issues that clearly need sorting out and if you're gonna flip over one fucking takeaway container then stay out of the public thanks.

Posted by admin Rodney.