#friendly neighborhood torturer

[thetorturerwrites]

Everything is..anxious right now so pardon me while I envision... Lylas Ben who helps you deal with your anxiety by taking away your senses. The first time it happens, you don't think anything of it. You're picking at your nails nervously and he holds both your small hands in his large one, keeping you from making yourself bleed. When you are over stimulated from the party, he covers your ears to muffle the noise while making you recite the alphabet backwards or your favorite poem without taking a breath. Soon, you get combinations of senses taken away...ear buds that have brown noise on so loud you can't hear your own heartbeat coupled with a blindfold...hands and feet tied so you can't move matched with a room so dark you can't see your own nose. And it all culminates in a complete removal of all your senses...black out hood, bondage sleeves for your arms and legs, ocean waves in your ear buds, and the cold basement room your parents forgot about. His own personal nervous caterpillar, wallowing in fear at first but giving over to acceptance and then contentment.

[thetorturerwrites]

I wish you inspiration

if you're a writer i wish u a very plot/story/character epiphany

[vettelsvee]

... READY FOR IT? | Charles Leclerc

MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT REPUTATION ⋆ TRACK 1

charles leclerc x reader ⋆ smau

summary: y/n finally decides she’s ready to make her relationship with charles public even people just hate her so much for her past dating other f1 drivers. 

taglist: [@celemilii @theseerbetweenus @anniee-mr @stelena-klayley @lozzamez3 @0710khj @afterg1ows @vincentvanshoe @coco-loco-nut @minkyungseokie @lemon-lav @stinkyjax @seokjinkismet @c-losur3 @annewithaneofthegreengable @khaylin27] thanks to all of you who wanted to be tagged! don't forget you can join my taglist by commenting or telling me through dm <3

a/n: i was supposed to start posting this on june 1st, but since we reached 500 followers here i wanted to start posting as a "celebration". i really don't like thinking about thing kind of things BUT i thought this was a special occasion, especially since you've received me really well here. thank you so much to you all who take time to read my works! i've never thought someone would read what i write tbh this is my very first smau so sorry if it's a little bit crap, i promise to improve for the next ones 🙏

you can send your one shots requests here! feedback, as well as comments and reblogs, are truly appreciated!

y/n just posted

y/n we're sooooo back on track (for the third time, yes! idgaf what you all have to say 🥰)

liked by carlossainz55, charles_leclerc and 376193 others

user1 wait wasn't she dating mick schumacher? what is she doing in the ferrari garage?

user2 that was during 2021 season. she broke up with him and then started dating lando back in july 2022 if i remember correctly

f1gossip yep! in 2021 she dated mick, in 2022, lando, and now seems like she put her eyes on one of the ferrari guys 👀

user3 what a bitch. she's fucking everyone to get fame or...?

yourbestfriend go on girlie! show your amour your support 😌

y/n yourbestfriend what a stupid action... fuck you

user4 y/n are you going home? because that's what you should be doing lol

user5 guys I know that y/n might not be a piece of cake for everyone, but PLEASE, respect her

user7 exactly this!

charles_leclerc ❤️

user10 charles explain?

user11 wdym A READ HEART

user12 she might be dating charles omg

carlossainz55 happy to have you finally here! ❤️🙌🏻

user13 NOW CARLOS? WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO SAY GUYS? WHAT DOES THIS MEAN?

comments on this post have been limited

y/n just posted

y/n since you seem so interested, yep: i'm on the ferrari garage f1 are you spilling the tea? cos I'm not. xoxo, your friendly neighborhood wag

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y/n just posted

y/n i was scared af to tell you that french dude and i've been dating for the past seven months. you can call me whore or whatever you want because at this point i don't really care about anything. it's been a wild ride with me feeling soooo uncomfortable with you commenting every now and then about my past relationships. i love mick and i love lando, but sometimes things don't work out, and you don't seem to understand that. anyways, all I have to say is that charles makes me the happiest woman on earth, and that we don't apologize for winning ❤️💋

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charles_leclerc just posted

charles_leclerc life in these past seven months has been insane. y/n, bet your ready for more but... are you ready for it?

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE PETER PARKER WITH A KIDNAPPED READER

May god bless that fool who decided to kidnap you. If someone had the wonderfully bright idea to kidnap you, Peter would literally lose his shit. We all know that bby boi Peter is a complete friendly cinnamon roll but when it comes to your safety he will not be compromising

So when a random villain kidnaps you and sends him a video of you tied up to a chair and bleeding, saying that they'd have their 'fun' with you, Peter is a storm of emotions. He's a storm of guilt that he couldn't protect you, angry and pissed at himself and really really worried about your safety. Under no circumstances will he let those filthy scumbags who dared to touch you live to see another day. Peter takes his anger out on a few inanimate objects and tries calming down since you were still in the clutches of those morons

So, he immediately changed into his spiderman suit and to be honest, he never felt that kind of burning and intense passion to do something before. The fact that you were hurt and miserable in the hands of some villain made his heart twist with guilt and shatter into a million pieces but he used that as determination to find out where you were. But luckily Peter gave you a bracelet that you always wore that had a tracker on it. And with the help of EDITH he traced your location to an abandoned warehouse. He saw you looking more hurt than ever now and he let out a choked sob as he rushed towards your side and cradled you in his arms

"S-spiderman?'' you mumbled weakly and he put his palm on your cheek and replied "Shh.. it's okay, I'm here. Everything's going to be all right now. No one can hurt you while I'm here....'' and as he was cutting your ropes, the villains came out from behind the shadows and started firing against Peter. But it was of no use since Peter managed to dodge their bullets and well.... he ended up beating the hell out of them. He made a mental note to finish them off in the most brutal way possible but right now, his main concern was you

He gently scooped you in his arms and carried you to a hospital bridal style. The doctors managed to clean your wounds and you had to get some stitches done. After you were feeling all right, you wanted to thank Spiderman but he wasn't there at that moment and you thought of thanking him later if you saw him. Your friendly neighborhood spiderman on the other hand wasn't behaving in a 'friendly' manner at the moment since he managed to finish torturing those filthy scumbags who dared to kidnap you and ended up killing them

Later he paid a visit to your house and you told him how brave Spiderman was and he saved you from your kidnappers. He felt a warm fuzzy feeling in his heart and his chest swelled with pride. You had complimented him! He was literally on the freaking moon at that moment. He hugged you and told you things would be all right but it looks like he had to 'take you home' sooner than later. After all, we wouldn't want something like to happen again now, would we? Lol and even if it did, Peter's blood pressure would soar through the roof and he'd have a literal heart attack

[thetorturerwrites]

Gray hair is hot you say?

Aging is hot. Gray hairs are hot. Smile lines are hot. Get with it.

[tojisun]

hey hey hey. don't mind me, i'm just a friendly little nit who's come to bring you my brainrot of the day.

i don't know how often you write him, but - just hear me out - gaz with a mommy kink. i feel like he's the type to have lost a lot of his non-military contact with women, including maybe his own family, so he's really just desperate for feminine approval. but the poor baby is too afraid to tell anyone about it because he doesn't want his partner to think he's weird or something like that. :(

so when he comes home from an op, off his rocker from desperation, he accidentally lets it slip while he's practically fucking them like a dog in heat. what he doesn't expect is that they don't mind, and it just melts his brain to nothing.

friendly neighborhood nit, over and out.

I TRIPPED AND FELL AND PASSED OUT READING THIS OHHHH MY GOD!! my friendly neighbourhood nit i hope u know im kissing u on the mouth rn. THANK U FOR THIS BECAUSE- BECAUSE-

i was- i was trying to find this lil slip of a thing i wrote of gaz with a sugar 'mommy' and how it just makes sense... not necessarily an older partner but a mature partner yk? a partner who pampers him and spoils him; who treats him like the king he is, and he is left trembling, aching, his desire bloating-

gnawing on a rock rn !!!

god.

thinking about the way gaz is fucking you so desperately, humping his cock along your walls, muffling his moans on the crook of your neck because his little secret—the shame that he's always carried—is dripping from the column of his teeth, poisonous as it slithers on the tip of his tongue, and kyle wants to–

he wants to–

"fuck, kyle," you whimper, your moan drawing his name out in that delicious way that makes him buckle. he knows tears must be pooling into the corners of your eyes, surely staining the silk pillow sheets, and the image that forms in his mind makes him groan, deep rumbles of his pleasure reverberating from where his chest is pressed on your back.

kyle has you on your knees, gentle and tender, but the slide of his cock in your cunt had him snapping—his restraints are thinning, the fog in his mind gaining strength.

it feels like torture. like pinched pleasure.

it feels like kyle is being edged even when he knows he isn't. because his cock is rutting along the warm press of your walls, being milked for all his worth, and yet–

it's not enough.

the first sob startles him more than it startles you, but kyle is too far gone, mouth agape, letting drool stain the soft caress of your shoulder. he feels your walls clamp down harder on him, your slick gushing along the twitching length of his cock, drenching his crotch, and kyle feels the need throbbing from his gums—

"god, mommy."

the fear that shoots through him is instant, snuffing the peaking elation of his pleasure. apologies gather on the base of his throat, choking him, cutting his air supply short.

messed up, he thinks to himself, already slowing down, pulling away. i fuckin' messed up–

"where's my baby goin', huh?" you croon, desire heavy on your tone.

you turn your head lightly, not enough to meet his eyes but enough that your voice is no longer muffled. "mommy didn't say you could stop, sweet boy."

kyle's body locks, his arms buckling, leaving him to stumble, all of his weight bearing down on you. his cock hits somewhere deeper at the sudden action, snug along the grip of your wet cunt. then, kyle cums, ecstasy razing through him as he mewls, his eyes shut close at the intensity of his pleasure.

he doesn't notice that he's humping your pussy as he shoots his warm cum into your cervix, stuffing you whole. like the good boy that he is.

"mommy, so fuckin' good f'r me. so good f'r me," kyle babbles, words slurring and incomprehensible.

white noise fills his senses, his eyes met with an explosion of blinding static. he is deaf to your squealed moans, not realizing the litanies of your own praises dribbling from your spit-slicked lips until the explosion of his pleasure peter into a quiet simmer.

shame curls in his heart, only for it to be snuffed out because you say, "my perfect boy. s'good f'r me. s'beautiful f'r me."

prickling feeling envelops the backs of his eyes, his body trembling at your continuous reassurances.

you coo, "always makin' me feel good. always pamperin' me. y'r the loveliest boy, kyle. my lovely boy."

kyle hides his face on the back of your shoulders, stifling his sob.

"thank you," he says, voice a quiet tremble.

"shh," you say, breath hitching at his aborted movements, feeling his cock still hitting your sensitive parts. "won't you make mommy cum now, lovie?"

"f'course," kyle replies, heart still wavering because–

how was it all so easy when it comes with you?

he knows you and him will have to talk about this later—semantics need to be smoothed out, establish boundaries. make up rules for kyle to follow.

he shivers, cock twitching with new interest.

"'of course' what, darlin'?"

kyle breathes in sharply at what you're asking. then, "f'course, mommy."

you hum, a happy titter. "good boy."

[thetorturerwrites]

"We're gonna drug you tonight," Adam said with a leering grin.

You stared at him for a long moment, your brain misfiring. You should have a logical reason to say no right at the tip of your tongue because rational people don't let their step-brothers drug them, but you couldn't think of a single reason not to.

After you'd been fucking regularly for a while, the Sackler brothers got restless and began experimenting. Could Adam get you to suck his dick in his dressing room? Could Ben bend you over the back railing and send your shouts down the beach? Could the two of them rail you on video until you were a drooling, sticky mess?

Turns out yes, they could.

And further, it turns out the idea of them drugging you only made your thighs twitch and your mouth water. With your inner bimbo already buzzing, what else could you say?

"Okay..."

[poisonlove]

Sorry... | j.o

It's a story set in a high school and revolves around Y/n, a lesbian student who has faced bullying and discrimination because of her sexuality. Her life takes an unexpected turn when Jenna, a popular and cruel girl, approaches her unexpectedly.

Summer vacation had just ended, and it was time to return to school. The sense of freedom and carefreeness I had enjoyed during the summer was fading, giving way to anxiety and worry about what awaited me in the new and fortunately final school year.

I walked to school, headphones in my ears playing the sweet sound of "Daylight" by David Kushner. The music enveloped me, trying to make me forget the impending start of a new school year, which I anticipated to be as disastrous as the previous ones.

I paused for a moment, taking in my surroundings. Leaves were slowly falling onto the grass, a sign that summer was gradually giving way to autumn. The temperatures were dropping, and the bus stop was as crowded as ever, with familiar faces. Looking around the neighborhood, I noticed subtle differences. The air was quieter than usual, with many people still asleep at this hour. Gray clouds covered the sky, giving the atmosphere a more melancholic feel.

I walked almost like a shadow, lost in my thoughts. A sigh of frustration escaped my lips as I thought about why I should endure this daily torture. Why should I endure the bruises from the taunts inflicted by the popular kids?

The truth is, there is a reason, even though there shouldn't be. I'm a lesbian. It's surprising how something so personal can become an issue for others, especially considering we're in the 21st century. I often wonder how my sexuality could affect anyone's life other than my own. It should be a personal matter, a part of who I am, but it seems that some people are obsessed with the idea that they should judge me for it. I didn't choose to be a lesbian; it's simply who I am, and it feels unfair that I have to bear the weight of others' prejudice and ignorance.

There's a sense of frustration in seeing the world move forward in many other areas but still having to face discrimination and bullying because of my identity. But despite it all, I'll continue to be myself and hope that one day the world can accept anyone, regardless of who we love.

I sigh deeply and shake my head, instinctively biting my lower lip as I walk. Confusion and frustration surround me, but I try to keep them at bay. My eyes turn towards the house in front of me, and a spontaneous smile spreads across my face when I see my best friend, Sofia Carson, coming out of her house with her backpack. It's a relief to see her, especially in moments like this.

Sofia is a girl with black hair and lively eyes that radiate enviable confidence. Her contagious smile and friendly personality make her a special person. As I get a little closer, I see Sofia running toward me with a radiant smile on her lips. Her black hair flows behind her as she approaches, almost as if her positive energy could brighten the whole day. She's my rock in this chaotic world, and her presence makes me feel stronger and less alone.

I remove my headphones and turn my attention to Sofia. "Hey, Sof. How was the trip?" I ask with a smile, trying to momentarily push away the thoughts that were tormenting me.

Sofia wraps an arm around my neck and leans her weight against my body.

"I missed you so much, you know?" she says, looking at me with bright eyes.

"We haven't seen each other for just two weeks," I murmur, amused.

"True... but the trip to Europe was great... I went to Italy!" she exclaims with enthusiasm.

"Is it true that everyone in Italy is beautiful?" I ask with curiosity, and Sofia huffs, nodding several times. Her reaction makes me laugh.

"Yes, it's true..." Sofia seems a bit embarrassed as she bites her lower lip, and I can't help but laugh again.

"And what have you been up to these past two weeks while I was gone?" Sofia asks timidly, and a shiver runs slightly down my spine. During that time, I experienced a panic attack and escalating depression, succumbing to the temptation of the razor blade. Unconsciously, I pull the sleeve of my leather jacket down to hide the scars.

"Oh, nothing special, you know," I reply, trying to smile. I don't want to worry Sofia with my problems, at least not right now.

Sofia looks at me out of the corner of her eye, seeming to doubt my words. My attempt to conceal what I've been through in the past two weeks doesn't seem convincing. Without even realizing it, we had already reached the gates of LA High School. We look at the imposing building, aware that another school year awaits us.

"Oh, did you hear? The new album by The Weeknd just came out!" Sofia exclaims with excitement. "Really? I didn't know!" I respond, surprised and relieved by the change of topic. "I'll have to listen to it when I get home."

A few steps ahead, as we gaze at the school panorama, Sofia returns to the subject. "I bet it's fantastic; his last album was amazing."

"I hope so," I say with a smile. "I like his music."

We exchange a few more words, but soon Sofia is called over by some of her friends in the distance. "Hey, y/n/n, want to come with me?" she asks, but I shake my head, feeling embarrassed. I don't want to add my discomfort to her social interactions, so I watch her walk away, hoping that my best friend can enjoy her day without the burdens I carry with me.

I put my headphones back on, and my smile quickly fades, replaced by the sadness that seems to inevitably return. As I pass through the school doors, anxiety grows within me.

But before I can take a step, two arms enter my field of vision, and I find myself quickly with my back against the lockers. The force of the impact makes me grit my teeth and hold back the tears, clenching my jaw to prevent a whimper from escaping my lips.

The perpetrator of my pain is Asher Spenser, the brown-haired guy and captain of the basketball team. "Look who we have here! And I was hoping not to see you until at least the last year," he says with a contemptuous smile.

"But at least I'll have something to take my frustration out on, you disgusting freak," he hisses through his teeth, his tone filled with hatred and ridicule. As I face yet another challenge in my day, I know I must find the strength to endure these cruel words and ongoing torment.

Asher sadistically laughs. "Without your little friend Sofia? She was always there to solve your problems."

His laughter is like a knife stabbing into my heart, and I feel increasingly isolated.

Then, with a boundless malevolence, he continues to whisper, "Even your best friend got tired of you... do everyone a favor... kill yourself."

His words are like daggers in the dark, hurting more than his physical actions. My jaw clenches as I try to hold back the tears, and humiliation and anger merge into a storm within me. But I know I can't let him see how much he's hurt me. I have to endure.

"What do you want, Asher?" I murmur weakly, hoping he'll go away.

"The disgusting lesbian suddenly found some courage!" he says sarcastically, and before I can react, he pushes me against the lockers again.

A female voice intervenes from a distance.

"Let her go, Ash." But Asher seems to ignore her. He presses my face against the locker, forcing me to turn my attention to the instigator of my torment, Jenna Ortega. She's the captain of the cheerleading squad and the leader of the popular group. Next to her is Cassie, her best friend, who's sipping on a smoothie.

"Stop looking at Cassie, a freak like you can't ogle my girlfriend," Asher slams my body against the lockers again, making me slide to the ground. His violence is palpable as I stand there, unable to react or defend myself. Anger and shame blend together as I feel the gazes of curious onlookers.

"Let her go, Ash," Jenna repeats, giving me a quick glance. Her request seems surprising given her involvement in my troubles. "Suddenly you're being nice to her?" Asher asks, looking puzzled. Jenna opens her mouth in indignation. "I can't stand her, you know that," she justifies herself, "it's just that some teachers are roaming the school, and if they catch you, you'll get detention."

Before I can get up from the ground, a liquid spills over my head. I feel completely dirty from what seemed to be a strawberry smoothie. With tear-blurred eyes, I look towards Cassie.

She then throws the empty cup at me, always wearing a smirk on her lips. Her laughter is malicious and cold, while Asher laughs heartily by her side. Jenna, on the other hand, has a strange look on her face, as if she's reflecting on what's happening.

Without thinking, I run to the bathroom, utterly embarrassed, just wishing to get rid of the sticky smoothie. My day has turned into a nightmare, and the only comfort I can find is in the privacy of the bathroom, where I can try to recover and hide my humiliation.

I dash towards the bathrooms with my head down, earning chuckles and looks of pity from some students who have stopped to witness the scene. My desperate run draws the attention and sympathy of those who see my condition.

I know a place where I can seek refuge. It's a bathroom located on the fifth floor, long abandoned by the school. The walls are faded and peeling, the floor is covered in dust. Mirrors are often cracked or scratched, and the air is filled with a gloomy and neglected atmosphere. It's a place where no one would bother to look for me, an isolated corner where I can hide my shame and try to regain a semblance of dignity. It's my secret sanctuary, away from prying eyes and the torment of bullies.

The first thing I do when I enter the bathroom is take off my leather jacket, leaving just the hoodie and top. I look at myself in the mirror, and my reflection fills me with disgust. Tears silently stream down my cheeks. Amidst the sobs, I turn on the faucet, letting the water flow. I bite my lower lip as I lean down, tilting my head to wet my hair, desperately trying to remove the sticky smoothie.

The cold water runs through my hair and down my skin, refreshing my flushed face. As I continue to rinse my hair, I hear a voice coming from the entrance of the bathroom.

"So, you were here when we couldn't find you," the voice says. I glance at myself in the mirror again, wondering why Jenna can't just leave me alone.

"What do you want, Jenna? You want to pull my hair? You want to dunk my head in the toilet?" I ask in frustration, challenging her. I've reached a point where I can't bear her cruelties without defending myself.

Jenna blinks in surprise, seemingly not expecting my reaction. Her expression, however, quickly turns into a disdainful sneer. Her skin is impeccably fair, and her black hair falls in soft waves. She's wearing a short skirt and a pink crop top that showcases her well-maintained figure. Despite her attractive appearance, her ruthless and cruel demeanor makes it hard to ignore how toxic she can be.

"I just wanted to know how you were," Jenna defends herself with what seems like a gentle tone, although her eyes betray a hint of sarcasm.

At that moment, I smile sarcastically too, unable to believe her words. I know all too well that behind this sudden concern lies another form of manipulation. Jenna excels at making her actions appear kind, only to strike even harder afterward. I won't be fooled by her.

"What do you want, Jenna?" I ask again, trying to understand her true intentions. Her eyes move along my wet body, following the path of water droplets running from my hair down my shoulders and down my body to my abdomen. It's an embarrassing sensation, feeling scrutinized like this.

"I told you, I wanted to know how you were," Jenna replies again, but this time, she seems to say it without sarcasm. Her sudden sincerity surprises me, but I remain cautious. I'm not sure if I can really trust her words, considering her history of cruelty.

"Come on, Jenna... we both know you're no saint," I say with a hint of venom in my voice.Jenna huffs with anger, evidently irritated by my challenge.

The tension between us is palpable, and even though it seems like she wants to be kind now, I can't forget all the pain she has inflicted on me in the past.

I'm cautious, but at least for now, it seems like she wants to stop tormenting me. Her eyes move along my body again, but this time, they linger on my arm. I shudder, realizing that someone has discovered my scars. My breathing becomes irregular as Jenna looks at me with confusion and panic.

"Do... do you hurt yourself?" Jenna asks, swallowing nervously. Her words hit me like a punch in the gut. I had never thought that someone would discover my darkest secret. Instinctively, I grab my jacket and put it on, wanting to cover my scars. At that moment, I don't care that I'm only wearing a top, as I have no intention of going to class, and I'll likely go home early.

Jenna approaches me, looking at my wrist covered by the jacket's sleeve. Her expression is hard to decipher, a mix of concern and confusion. I'm not sure what to make of this situation. I had never imagined having such a conversation with Jenna.

"Show me..." Jenna mutters and, without waiting for my response, takes my hand. Her nails delicately trace my skin before she lifts the jacket's sleeve. It's surprising how gentle she is in this moment. She places her hand around my scars, feeling their texture.

"Why do you cut yourself?" Jenna timidly asks.

"Isn't it obvious?" I respond with venom, anger boiling inside me.

"Listen..." Jenna starts, but I immediately cut her off. I have no desire to listen to her or explain my reasons.

"Sorry okay?" She say.

Consumed by anger, I approach her, and surprisingly, she doesn't move, almost challenging me with her gaze. "I don't need your pity... not after you've shown me your true colors all these years," I say with a whisper, my voice filled with anger.

I don't want her pity now, after everything I've been through. Jenna looks at me with tearful, shining eyes, but my heart is too full of pain and anger to accept her apologies so easily. "It was my only way..." Jenna mutters, her voice breaking, "...it was my only way to get close to you." Her confession surprises me deeply.

I had never imagined that her actions could be an attempt to get closer to me, even if it was in a strange and destructive way. My anger and pain mix with confusion as I try to understand her motivations.

"But what the hell..." I mutter instinctively, unable to believe what I'm hearing.

Jenna continues to speak, confessing her true motivations. "I was... I was so jealous of how you could be yourself without fear of others' reactions... You seemed happy... you were happy even though others looked at you strangely, knowing your sexual orientation..."

Jenna swallows nervously, visibly anxious but continues. "I... really like you, Y/n," she confesses, her words filling the air between us.

I'm taken aback by this revelation. I had never imagined that Jenna could have romantic feelings for me after everything she had done.

"Don't mock me..." I say with anger, my confusion and pain turning into rage. "If you really like me, you wouldn't have treated me that way."

Her past actions, her bullying, and her cruelties had been so damaging to me that it's hard to accept her words now. I'm not sure if I can trust Jenna, even though she seems to have opened up to me.

"Do I seem like an idiot to you?" I ask, watching Jenna shake her head.

"I saw how people looked at you... I was afraid that someone like me would be treated the same," she confesses sincerely.

"Just because you're a popular girl doesn't mean you can't fall for someone like me," I say sarcastically, my anger and frustration still palpable. Her admission is creating a mix of emotions in me, but I can't help but be skeptical of her intentions.

The situation is incredibly complicated.

"I'm really in love with you..." Jenna murmurs softly, placing her hand on my cheek. I close my eyes at her touch, feeling her nails on my skin. But Jenna's touch shakes me, and I quickly remove her hand from my face.

"You could have just been my friend... like Sofia..." I mutter, smiling sarcastically. "Now I need to leave; this situation is really unpleasant."

Without saying another word, I leave the room, leaving Jenna Ortega confused and alone.

And certainly, such a confession wasn't enough to erase what she had done.

[thetorturerwrites]

I...... @millenialcatlady um.....

Eddie, on the other hand, has always known he's into big ladies. He's into all sorts of people with all kinds of body types, down to clown with basically anyone, but ugh... There is something about a chubby girl that just gets to him. They're his favorite, he's an absolute connoisseur. He is Looking for a Big Tiddy Goth GF, I know this in my soul 🥰

Oh my god 100%. Whereas Steve is unlearning antiquated preconceived notions, I believe Eddie is ready to love and love anyone.

Do they have a sexy soul? Eddie Munson is getting a boner.

Do they listen to him and smile like he hung the moon? Eddie Munson is getting a boner.

Do they tease him and give him shit? Eddie Munson is getting a boner.

Do they let him rub himself against their body, squeezing and groping and making use of any of your holes? Eddie Munson is getting a boner.

But I also agree that Eddie is 100% into chubby girls. There’s that old adage of “there’s more to love” but in Eddie’s case it is true because he’s a greedy motherfucker. He wants more more more and with you he gets everything he could ever want.

[artyandink]

the art of heresy forged 1981

SUMMARY: Modern day, 2022, and you have no clue what’s going on. You knew what you went through. You knew it was real, but why were there people trying to convince you that everything that happened to you wasn’t real. Hell, you called bullshit. But you get your chance to fight back when you get a call at your door.

TW: psychological torture, trauma, angst, smut, drinking, consumption of drugs, smoking, mentions of sex, Ben (cause he’s an individual warning), Ben and Psyke being little shits, it’s The Boys so be careful guys, really creepy shit, literal crack

STW: unprotected sex (again, not advised, guys), fingering, oral sex (f. receiving)

A/N - divider by @chachachannah

Song Inspo: …Ready for It? - Taylor Swift

three - me, you, my mind

1981:

The hospital corridors smelled of antiseptic and despair, the kind that clung to your skin no matter how much you tried to shake it off. The fluorescent lights overhead buzzed incessantly, casting a cold, sterile glow over everything. You hated hospitals. Always had. Too much death, too much pain, too much everything. But you were here for a reason, and not even the oppressive atmosphere could keep you away.

The receptionist at the front desk had given you a wary look when you strolled in, your usual swagger evident in every step. She knew who you were—everyone did. But she also knew the rules, and that made her think she had the power to stop you. Poor thing didn’t know what she was up against.

“I’m here to see Elizabeth, uh, Liz,” you said, leaning over the counter slightly, your voice gruff with impatience. “She’s just had a baby.”

The receptionist, a mousy woman in her early forties, blinked up at you with wide eyes. “I’m sorry, ma’am, but only the father is allowed to visit right now. Hospital policy.”

You rolled your eyes, biting back the urge to let loose a string of expletives. “Yeah, well, policy be damned. I’m not just anyone, sweetheart. I’m Psyke. Recognise the name, doll?”

The woman’s eyes widened further, recognition dawning as she realized just who she was dealing with. You weren’t exactly the friendly neighborhood superhero type, but your name carried a ton of weight, and that weight was enough to get you what you wanted eleven times out of ten. She stammered, trying to find the right words to appease you while also following the rules she was undoubtedly tired of enforcing.

“I—I’m sorry, but—”

You leaned in closer, dropping your voice to a menacing whisper. “Look, I don’t have time for this shit. My sister just gave birth, and I’m not leaving this place until I’ve seen her and my niece. So, either you can let me in, or we can make this a whole lot more difficult for everyone involved. Your choice.”

The receptionist swallowed hard, clearly torn between her duty and the fear you’d expertly instilled in her. She fumbled with the papers on her desk before finally giving a reluctant nod. “Room 312,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “She’s in Room 312.”

“Good girl,” you muttered, already striding down the corridor without a backward glance. You could feel the eyes of the staff on you, their hushed whispers following in your wake, but you didn’t give a damn. Let them talk. You had more important things to worry about.

The walk to Liz’s room felt longer than it should have. You kept your eyes forward, ignoring the sterile white walls and the smell of bleach that permeated the air. Hospitals always had a way of making you feel like you were suffocating, like the weight of all the pain and suffering within those walls was pressing down on your chest. But this was different. This was family.

When you finally reached Room 312, you hesitated, your hand hovering over the door handle. You weren’t used to feeling nervous—hell, you weren’t used to feeling anything other than anger or disdain most of the time—but right now, with Liz on the other side of that door, you felt something close to apprehension. She’d just given birth, for fuck’s sake. What were you supposed to say?

You pushed the thought aside and shoved the door open, stepping into the room with a confidence you didn’t quite feel. The sight that greeted you was one that would stay with you forever.

Liz was lying in the hospital bed, her face pale but glowing with a kind of serenity you’d never seen in her before. Her blonde hair was tousled, sticking to her forehead with sweat, and she looked exhausted—but happy. In her arms, she cradled a tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket, her gaze fixed on the newborn with a tenderness that made something in your chest tighten uncomfortably.

“Liz,” you said, your voice uncharacteristically soft as you stepped closer to the bed. “How’re you holding up?”

Liz looked up at you, her tired eyes brightening as a smile spread across her face. “Well, look who finally decided to show up,” she teased, though there was no real bite to her words. “You missed all the fun.”

“Yeah, well, I had to wrestle a few assholes to get in here,” you replied, slipping back into your usual bravado. “But I wasn’t gonna let a bunch of rules keep me from meeting my niece.”

Liz chuckled softly, the sound warm and full of affection. “Meet Georgia,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper as she glanced down at the baby in her arms. “She’s perfect, isn’t she?”

You leaned in closer, your heart doing an odd little flip as you got your first real look at the tiny human cradled in your sister’s arms. Georgia was small—so small it made you feel like a fucking giant in comparison—with a tuft of dark hair peeking out from under the blanket and her eyes squeezed shut. Her little face was scrunched up like she was already fed up with the world, and you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips.

“Perfect?” you scoffed, though your voice lacked its usual bite. “She looks like a pissed-off potato.”

Liz laughed, a sound that was both tired and full of joy. “That’s one way to put it,” she said, looking down at Georgia with a mother’s love in her eyes. “But she’s my pissed-off potato.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle, feeling the tension in your shoulders ease a bit. “You did good, Liz. Real good.”

“Thanks,” Liz said softly, her gaze still locked on Georgia. “You want to hold her?”

The question caught you off guard. You weren’t the maternal type—not by a long shot. Kids were loud, messy, and a pain in the ass most of the time. But as you looked down at Georgia, something in you shifted, just a little. Maybe it was the fact that she was family, or maybe it was the way Liz was looking at you, but for the first time in your life, you found yourself wanting to protect something—someone—more than anything else.

“Yeah,” you said, your voice rough as you reached out to take the tiny bundle from Liz. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

Liz carefully handed Georgia over, and you cradled the newborn in your arms, feeling her warmth seep into your skin. She was so fucking small, her tiny fingers curling into fists as she squirmed slightly in your hold. For a moment, you felt completely out of your depth, unsure of how to hold something so delicate without breaking it.

But then Georgia let out a small, contented sigh, and you felt something inside you melt. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d felt something so…pure. So untainted by the shitstorm that was your life. It was almost enough to make you believe in something good.

“Hey, kiddo,” you whispered, your voice surprisingly gentle as you looked down at your niece. “I’m your auntie. Your life’s about to get a whole lot more interesting, cause I’m a fuckin’ supe. You’re gonna be well protected from nasty bullies, jellybean.”

Liz watched you with a soft smile, her eyes filled with a warmth you hadn’t seen in a long time. “She’s going to need someone like you in her life,” she said quietly. “Someone who won’t take shit from anyone.”

You snorted, but there was no real humor in it. “Yeah, well, that’s something I’m good at.”

Liz’s smile faltered slightly, and she reached out to place a hand on your arm. “Promise me you’ll be there for her. For me. You know how things are with Vince. He’s…”

Her voice trailed off, but you knew what she meant. Vince was an asshole, plain and simple. He wasn’t going to be winning any Father of the Year awards, that much was certain. You’d never liked him, but Liz had always been the one with the bleeding heart, always seeing the good in people even when there wasn’t any to be found.

“I’ll be there,” you said, your voice firm as you looked down at Georgia. “I promise.”

Liz let out a small sigh of relief, her grip on your arm tightening slightly. “Thank you.”

“I still don’t know why you married the guy.” You snorted, shaking your head. “Am I still not allowed to bash his face in?”

“That’s a stretch.”

“I have enough money from Payback to take care’a both of us. And Soldier Boy could help if I asked him.” You protested, but she shook her head.

Liz gave you a soft smile. “I’d be indebted to you. And I always have been, you’re my older sister and you’ve been all I know. But I’m gonna do this my way, as much as I’d like to meet the guy who’s fucking my older sister.”

“He’s a real good fuck too.”

“I bet he is.”

For a while, the two of you sat in silence, the only sound in the room the soft breathing of the newborn in your arms. It was a moment of calm, a rare reprieve from the chaos that usually filled your life. You found yourself reluctant to break the silence, content to just be there with Liz and Georgia.

But eventually, reality began to creep back in, and you knew you couldn’t stay in this little bubble forever. With a reluctant sigh, you carefully handed Georgia back to Liz, the weight of responsibility settling back onto your shoulders.

“Alright,” you said, your voice rough as you cleared your throat. “I should probably get going. Let you get some rest.”

Liz looked up at you, her eyes filled with gratitude. “You don’t have to go just yet.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile. “Nah, you need your rest. I’ll be back soon.”

Liz nodded, though you could see the reluctance in her eyes. “Okay. But don’t be a stranger, alright?”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” you said with a smirk, though there was an edge of seriousness to your tone. “Take care of yourself, Liz. And take care of Georgia.”

“I will,” Liz promised, her voice soft. “Thank you for being here.”

You nodded, giving her one last look before turning to leave the room. But just as you reached the door, Liz called out to you, stopping you in your tracks.

“Hey, sis?”

You turned back, raising an eyebrow. “Yeah?”

Liz hesitated for a moment, as if searching for the right words. “I just want you to know… you’re going to be a great aunt.”

The words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. But then you felt a small, genuine smile tug at your lips, and you nodded.

“Thanks, Liz,” you said quietly. “I’ll do my best.”

And with that, you turned and walked out of the room, the door clicking shut behind you. As you made your way down the corridor, the reality of the situation began to sink in. You had a niece now—a tiny, pissed-off potato of a niece who was going to need you in her life. It was a strange feeling, knowing that you were responsible for someone other than yourself. But as you thought about Georgia’s tiny face and Liz’s hopeful smile, you found yourself determined to live up to the promise you’d made.

No matter what it took, you were going to be there for Georgia. You were going to be the aunt she needed, the one who wouldn’t take shit from anyone and who would always have her back. Because that’s what family was about.

Even for someone like you.

Ben’s hotel room smelled of smoke and something faintly sweet, a scent that clung to the silk robe he wore loosely over his broad frame. The black fabric shimmered under the dim light of the bedside lamp, emphasizing every movement he made as he lounged back in the chair by the window, a cigar between his fingers. You watched him take a long, slow drag, the end glowing bright red before he exhaled a thick plume of smoke into the room.

“Congrats on your sister,” he said, his voice a deep rumble, rough around the edges. “She popped out a kid, huh?”

You leaned back on the bed, propping yourself up on your elbows, and let out a dry laugh. “Yeah, she did. Little girl, Georgia. Cute as hell, too—though she looks like a potato right now.”

Ben chuckled, a low sound that vibrated through the room. “They all look like that at first. Wrinkled and pissed off, like they know what kind of shit they’ve been born into.”

You snorted. “Ain’t that the truth.”

He leaned back further in his chair, his robe falling open slightly, exposing more of his muscular chest. His green eyes were sharp as they flicked over to you, something unreadable in them as he took another drag from his cigar. “You ever think about it? Having kids?”

You shrugged, pretending to be more interested in the cigarette you were holding than the direction the conversation was taking. “Not really. Never thought I’d be the mom type. Too much of a hard-ass for all that soft shit.”

“Yeah,” Ben muttered, rolling the cigar between his fingers. “That’s what I thought about Marjorie too.”

The mention of Crimson Countess—Marjorie—hung in the air between you like a bad stench. You’d seen the two of them together often enough, the way they played up their public romance for the cameras, all smiles and perfect poses. It was all bullshit, and you both knew it. Ben and Marjorie weren’t a real couple—they were just a convenient PR package, wrapped up nice and neat to sell to the public.

“Marjorie and kids?” You scoffed at the thought, raising an eyebrow at him. “Can’t picture that.”

Ben let out a dry laugh, the sound devoid of any real humor. “Neither could I. Even back in the day, when we were…whatever the fuck we were, she never talked about kids. Hell, I didn’t either.”

You nodded, taking a slow drag from your cigarette. “Too much of a mess, all of it. The world’s gone to shit, and bringing a kid into it? That’s a special kind of hell.”

“Exactly.” Ben’s voice was rough, tinged with something bitter. He took another long pull from his cigar, his eyes narrowing slightly as he stared out the window. “Can’t even imagine what kind of life they’d have. Constant danger, growing up with assholes like us around. Nah, better off without.”

The bitterness in his tone matched the cynical look in his eyes, and you found yourself nodding in agreement. “Yeah, no need to drag anyone else into this fucked-up world.”

Ben’s gaze flicked back to you, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “And you? Think your sister made a mistake?”

The question caught you off guard, and you hesitated, turning the cigarette between your fingers. “Nah, Liz is different. She’s…I don’t know, softer. She’s got a heart that isn’t covered in layers of steel and hate. Maybe she can make it work.”

Ben let out a huff, the smirk still in place as he shook his head. “That’s one hell of an optimistic view coming from you. Never thought I’d hear it.”

You rolled your eyes, giving him a playful shove with your foot. “Yeah, well, don’t get used to it. Just because I think Liz can handle it doesn’t mean I’d ever want the same shit for myself. No way.”

Ben grinned at that, a hint of mischief in his eyes as he leaned forward, his cigar hanging lazily between his lips. “So, if not kids, what the hell do you want, then? What’s left for someone like you, huh?”

The question was loaded, and you knew it. What did you want? In this world of lies, violence, and constant manipulation, it was hard to even remember what you used to want, let alone what you wanted now. But there was something in the way Ben was looking at you, a challenge in his eyes that made you want to answer, to say something, anything that would push back against the darkness that threatened to swallow you both.

You flicked the ash from your cigarette, watching as it floated to the floor, and met his gaze head-on. “I want to keep living. Fighting. Whatever comes my way, I want to face it and make sure it doesn’t break me.”

Ben’s smirk widened into a full grin, a glint of approval in his eyes. “Now that, I can get behind. You’re a tough one, I’ll give you that.”

“Damn right I am,” you shot back, your tone dripping with confidence. “What about you, huh? What’s left for the great Soldier Boy?”

Ben’s grin faded slightly, his expression hardening as he took another drag from his cigar. “Same as you, I guess. Just keep going, keep fighting, and make sure the world doesn’t forget who the hell I am.”

There was something raw in his voice, something vulnerable that he quickly covered up with another puff of smoke. You didn’t push it—Ben wasn’t the type to open up easily, and you weren’t the type to pry. But there was a part of you that understood, that recognized the fear of being forgotten, of being rendered obsolete in a world that was constantly moving forward without you.

You took a final drag from your cigarette, then crushed it in the ashtray on the nightstand. “We’re both stubborn bastards, that’s for sure.”

Ben chuckled, the sound deep and rumbling in his chest. “Damn right. And don’t you forget it.”

You met his gaze, feeling the tension in the room shift slightly, a different kind of heat sparking between you. There was something electric in the air, something that had been simmering beneath the surface since you’d walked into the room. It wasn’t the first time you’d felt it—hell, it wasn’t even the first time you’d acted on it—but tonight felt different. There was an edge to it, a kind of desperation that neither of you could ignore.

Ben’s eyes darkened as he looked at you, his gaze lingering on your lips before trailing down to the curve of your neck. “You know, you always did know how to push my buttons.”

You felt a smirk tug at your lips as you leaned back on the bed, your eyes locked on his. “Is that right? And here I thought I was just being my charming self.”

He let out a low growl, his grin widening as he pushed himself out of the chair and moved toward the bed. “Charming, my ass. You’re a goddamn menace.”

You didn’t bother to argue, your heart pounding in your chest as Ben closed the distance between you. There was no hesitation, no second-guessing as he reached out and pulled you toward him, his hands rough and insistent on your skin. The silk robe he wore brushed against your arm, the fabric cool and smooth compared to the heat of his touch.

“Ben,” you murmured, your voice a low whisper as his lips found your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin.

“Shut up,” he growled against your throat, his hands slipping beneath your shirt, the warmth of his palms sending shivers down your spine. “Just shut up.”

You couldn’t help the low moan that escaped your lips as his hands roamed over your body, the roughness of his touch contrasting with the softness of the silk robe. There was something intoxicating about the way he moved, the way he took control, like he needed this as much as you did.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging him closer as his lips found yours, the kiss hard and demanding. It was a battle for dominance, neither of you willing to back down, both of you determined to take what you wanted. His hands slid under your shirt, pulling it up and over your head, and you didn’t hesitate to do the same with his robe, the silk falling to the floor in a heap.

The cool air of the room hit your skin, but it was quickly replaced by the heat of Ben’s body as he pressed against you, his hands roaming over every inch of exposed flesh. You could feel the tension in his muscles, the barely-contained need that matched your own.

“Fuck,” you muttered against his lips, your nails digging into his back as he pushed you down onto the bed. “You’re gonna leave marks.”

“Good,” he growled, his voice rough with desire as he trailed kisses down your neck, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. “I want you to remember this.”

You arched into him, a low moan escaping your lips as his mouth found the sensitive spot on your collarbone, sucking hard enough to leave a mark. You didn’t care about the bruises, didn’t care about the pain—if anything, it only made you want him more.

“Ben,” you gasped, your hands clutching at his shoulders as he moved lower, his lips and tongue leaving a trail of fire in their wake.

“Shut up,” he growled, sucking on your skin as he threw your legs apart. Touch practiced. Rough.

You gasped, the sharp sensation of his mouth on your skin sending jolts of heat through your body. Ben’s lips were rough and eager as they explored the curve of your collarbone, trailing lower until he reached the edge of your bra. You shivered under his touch, a thrill racing through you as he sucked gently at the delicate skin there, his fingers gripping your waist with a possessiveness that made your heart race.

“Fuck, you feel amazing,” he murmured against your skin, his breath hot and teasing. “Can’t believe I waited this long.”

You let out a breathless laugh, your fingers curling into his hair as you pulled him closer. “It’s been a few hours since you fucked me.”

He looked up at you then, his green eyes glinting with mischief. “Few hours too long, sweet thing.”

With that, his hands slipped beneath the waistband of your pants, fingers brushing against the skin of your thighs. You felt the heat of his touch radiating through the thin fabric, and a low growl rumbled in his throat as he pushed your pants down, baring your legs to the cool air.

“Goddamn,” he muttered, his fingers trailing up your thighs with agonizing slowness. “You’re fucking perfect.”

You could barely respond, too lost in the heat pooling in your core as his fingers finally found their way to the center of your desire. He paused, teasing you for a moment, before sliding a single finger between your folds, pushing against you with just the right amount of pressure.

“Ben,” you gasped, your back arching off the bed as pleasure shot through you. You felt raw, exposed, and completely at his mercy. He moved slowly at first, his finger gliding effortlessly as he worked you up, the pressure building with each tantalizing stroke.

“Easy there, sugar,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “We’ve got all night. I want to take my time with you.”

You opened your eyes to find him watching you intently, his green gaze dark with desire. There was something about the way he looked at you, like you were the only thing in the world that mattered, that sent another wave of heat crashing through you.

“Don’t tease me,” you managed to say, your voice barely above a whisper as his finger curled inside you, the sensation pushing you closer to the edge. “I need more.”

“Need more?” He smirked, clearly enjoying the power he had over you. “You’ve got it, babe.”

With that, he slipped in another finger, stretching you open, and you moaned loudly, biting down on your lip to suppress any further sounds. He moved them in a slow, rhythmic motion, and you could feel every stroke, every curl of his fingers hitting all the right spots.

“Shit, that feels incredible,” you breathed, your body arching into him as you fought to maintain control. But the pleasure was building quickly, spiraling higher and higher until you were lost in it.

Ben seemed to revel in the way you responded to him, his fingers working you expertly as he leaned down to press kisses along your inner thigh, teasing you mercilessly. Each brush of his lips sent shockwaves of sensation coursing through your body, and you knew you were dangerously close to the edge.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxed, his breath warm against your skin. “Let go for me.”

With every movement of his fingers, every kiss he pressed against your skin, you felt the tension coil tighter and tighter within you. “Ben,” you gasped, your hands clutching the sheets as the waves of pleasure crashed over you, threatening to pull you under.

“Yeah?” he murmured, the devilish grin on his face betraying his eagerness.

You met his gaze, eyes wide and pleading. “I’m so close.”

“Good,” he growled, picking up the pace, fingers moving faster, deeper. “I want to feel you come on my fingers.”

You barely had time to register his words before the tension snapped, pleasure exploding through you as you cried out his name. Your back arched, your entire body tightening around him as you let go, waves of bliss crashing over you.

“Fucking hell,” Ben breathed, his fingers still moving as you came down from your high, riding out the aftershocks of pleasure. He leaned down, pressing his lips against your inner thigh, his eyes glimmering with satisfaction as he watched you come undone.

When you finally opened your eyes again, he was smirking at you, his fingers glistening with your arousal. “You’re a fucking sight to behold, you know that?”

You chuckled breathlessly, still feeling the lingering effects of your climax. “Yeah? And you’re a cocky bastard.”

“Only because I know how to push your buttons,” he shot back, his voice low and teasing. He slid his fingers out of you, slowly, and you couldn’t help the soft whimper that escaped your lips at the loss.

Ben’s smirk widened as he brought his fingers to his mouth, licking them clean with a satisfied look on his face. “You taste even better than I imagined.”

Your heart raced at the sight, a heat flooding your cheeks as you watched him. There was something primal in the way he moved, something raw and unrestrained that set your entire body alight with need.

“Now,” he said, leaning over you, his green eyes dark with lust. “I think it’s my turn to taste you.”

Before you could respond, he was lowering himself down your body, settling between your thighs. You gasped as he pressed a kiss to your core, his lips brushing against you with feather-light pressure before he buried his face deeper, licking you with a fierce hunger.

“Ben!” you gasped, your back arching again as pleasure shot through you, the sensation overwhelming in the best way possible. He worked you with a skill that left you breathless, his tongue moving in expert strokes, teasing and tasting as he explored you.

“God, you’re so fucking wet,” he murmured against you, the vibrations of his voice sending shivers down your spine. He was relentless, his mouth moving expertly as he pushed you back toward the edge, building you up higher and higher until you were gasping for breath.

You tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer as he worked you, the heat of his mouth combined with the pressure of his tongue sending you spiraling toward another climax. The pleasure was building again, a familiar tightness coiling within you, and you knew you were close.

“Ben,” you gasped, feeling your body start to tremble. “I’m—”

“Let go,” he urged, his voice low and commanding, and the combination of his words and the feeling of his mouth on you pushed you right over the edge. You cried out, your back arching as pleasure flooded through you, crashing over you in wave after wave.

“Fuck!” you shouted, your body trembling as you rode the waves of your climax, feeling his tongue work you through it, keeping you on the edge, keeping the pleasure coming.

As you finally came down from your high, gasping for breath, you felt Ben pulling back, his lips glistening, a satisfied grin on his face. “Told you I’d make you forget.”

You chuckled breathlessly, the sound a mixture of disbelief and pure, unfiltered satisfaction. “You weren’t kidding. That was…something else.”

He leaned back, looking at you with a glimmer of pride. “You liked it, huh?”

“Yeah, I liked it,” you admitted, still feeling the aftershocks of pleasure coursing through your body. “You’ve got some serious skills there, Soldier Boy.”

“Only the best for you, Psyke.” He winked, his voice teasing as he shifted closer again, wrapping an arm around you and pulling you against him. “But now that I’ve gotten my taste, I want more.”

You raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at your lips. “More? You think you can handle it?”

“Oh, I can handle it,” he growled, his eyes dark with desire as he leaned in to capture your lips with his. The kiss was heated, a promise of what was to come, and you could feel the heat building again, a fire igniting between you that promised a long night ahead.

You melted against him, feeling the weight of his body pressing against yours, the heat radiating from him as you lost yourself in the kiss. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, tangled together in a whirlwind of passion and desire.

As the kiss deepened, you felt the thrill of excitement course through you, and you knew that whatever came next, you were ready for it. You were ready to face the darkness together, to embrace the chaos and the heat, and to lose yourself in the wild, unrestrained moments that came with being together.

“Let’s see what else you’ve got,” you whispered against his lips, your voice filled with challenge.

Ben grinned, a wicked spark in his eyes as he pulled you closer. “Oh, I’ve got plenty in store for you, don’t you worry. M’gonna make sure you come at least five times before the night’s over.”

The morning light filtered into the lobby of the hotel through the large glass windows, casting long shadows across the marble floor. The place was quiet at this early hour, with only a few scattered guests enjoying breakfast or scrolling through their phones. You sat in one of the plush armchairs, nursing a coffee and trying to shake off the remnants of last night’s haze. Your clothes were disheveled, a stark contrast to the elegant setting, but you were past caring about appearances.

As you took another sip of your coffee, you felt a sharp, familiar presence approaching. You looked up to see Marjorie, also known as Crimson Countess, storming toward you. Her usual air of polished elegance was replaced by a fierce, almost frenzied expression. Her tight red dress clung to her curves, and her high heels clicked loudly against the marble floor as she made her way over.

“Just the person I wanted to see,” Marjorie snapped as she reached you, her voice dripping with irritation. “I need to talk to you.”

You raised an eyebrow, casually setting your coffee down on the table beside you. “Oh, really? And here I thought I’d be able to enjoy my morning without a drama fest.”

Marjorie’s eyes flashed with anger, but she took a deep breath before speaking. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing with Ben, but this has to stop. You’re making things complicated.”

You took a moment to let that sink in, a smirk playing at your lips. “Complicated? How so?”

Her expression tightened further. “You’re screwing him, and it’s messing with our arrangement. We have a deal, and I don’t appreciate you undermining it.”

You chuckled, a harsh, almost mocking sound that made Marjorie’s face redden. “Oh, honey, don’t get your panties in a twist. Ben and I are just having a bit of fun. It’s not like we’re plotting world domination.”

“Fun?” Marjorie spat, her tone dripping with disdain. “You’re not just having fun. You’re disrupting things that are important to both of us.”

“Important to both of you?” You leaned forward, resting your elbows on your knees. “I’m pretty sure Ben’s deal with you is just a glorified PR stunt. You know it, I know it, and deep down, he knows it too.”

Marjorie’s eyes widened in fury. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. Ben and I have—”

“—A business arrangement,” you cut in, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m well aware. I’ve seen the way you cling to him every time there’s a camera around. Pathetic.”

Marjorie’s jaw clenched. “Cling? You think I’m pathetic?”

“Damn right I do,” you replied, your tone icy. “You’re like a stage five clinger, always hanging around, making sure everyone sees how ‘happy’ you are. It’s sickening. Ben’s never been into the whole lovey-dovey crap, and you’re just there to play a part.”

Her face twisted in anger, and she took a step closer, her voice dropping to a hiss. “You think you’re so much better? You’re just a temporary distraction. A little fling for Ben to amuse himself with.”

You stood up, meeting her gaze with a steely resolve. “And you’re a joke. You think you’re special because you’ve got a bit of fame and a PR relationship? Newsflash, Marjorie, you’re just another face in the crowd. Ben’s had enough of the fake crap, and he’s making that pretty damn clear.”

Before Marjorie could retort, Ben strolled into the lobby, looking every bit the part of a man who was used to getting his way. His black silk robe was slung casually over his shoulders, and he had that confident, almost arrogant swagger that you knew all too well. He looked between you and Marjorie with a knowing smirk.

“Everything alright here?” Ben’s voice was smooth, laced with a hint of amusement as he approached.

Marjorie’s eyes flashed with a mix of relief and annoyance as she turned to him. “Ben, you need to handle this. She’s—”

“—Handling it just fine,” you interrupted, your voice laced with a defiant edge. “Thanks for joining the party, Ben. Marjorie was just about to explain how she feels about our arrangement.”

Ben raised an eyebrow, glancing at Marjorie with a curious expression. “Oh? And what’s the problem now?”

Marjorie’s frustration was palpable as she threw her hands up in exasperation. “She’s undermining our deal. I need you to make her stop.”

Ben’s grin widened, and he turned his full attention back to you, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Well, I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself, sweetheart. But you know, I wouldn’t say no to a little more fun.”

Without warning, he reached out and grabbed you by the waist, pulling you close. His hands were rough, assertive, and there was no mistaking the predatory gleam in his eyes. You barely had time to react before his lips were on yours, kissing you with a raw, hungry passion that left you breathless.

Marjorie’s eyes widened in shock as she watched the scene unfold, her mouth hanging open. She clearly hadn’t anticipated Ben’s reaction, and you could see the mix of jealousy and anger in her expression.

Ben’s hands roamed over your body, gripping your hips and pulling you tighter against him. His touch was commanding, and there was no subtlety in the way he maneuvered you, as if claiming you for his own. He broke the kiss only long enough to look over at Marjorie with a smirk.

“Looks like you’ve got some competition,” he said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m not about to let her go.”

Marjorie’s face turned a deep shade of red, and she opened her mouth to respond, but no words came out. Instead, she glared at you with an expression that could have burned a hole through steel.

“You know what?” you said, your voice loud and unapologetic as Ben’s hands slipped down to give your ass a playful smack. “We’re literally just fucking every chance we get. I see no problems here.”

Ben’s grin grew wider as he continued his assault on your body, his hands exploring every curve with a possessive eagerness. “Damn right. And if Marjorie’s got an issue with that, well, that’s her problem.”

Marjorie’s face was a storm of emotions—anger, humiliation, and something like betrayal. She looked between you and Ben, her eyes filled with frustration. “You’re unbelievable, Ben. And you,” she snapped at you, “you’re nothing but a—”

Ben cut her off with a dismissive wave of his hand. “Save it, Marjorie. I’m done with this conversation.”

Marjorie’s mouth snapped shut, and she glared at Ben one last time before turning on her heel and storming out of the lobby, her high heels clicking angrily as she went. The sound of the door slamming shut behind her was almost a relief, and you let out a sigh of relief, leaning into Ben’s touch.

Ben’s hands were still on your ass, giving it another playful slap before he pulled you back against him. His lips found yours again, and this time the kiss was even more heated, full of unrestrained desire. You melted into it, your hands gripping his shoulders as you lost yourself in the moment.

When he finally pulled back, his green eyes were filled with a mix of satisfaction and amusement. “That was fun,” he said, his voice low and filled with a smugness that was impossible to miss.

You chuckled, still feeling the remnants of the kiss on your lips. “Yeah, you sure know how to make a point.”

Ben smirked, his hands still resting possessively on your hips. “Glad I could help. Now, how about we take this somewhere more private?”

You raised an eyebrow, a mischievous grin tugging at your lips. “Lead the way.”

As you followed him toward the elevator, you couldn’t help but feel a thrill of excitement. Whatever else the day held, you knew it would be anything but boring. Ben’s presence was a wild card, and you were ready to embrace whatever came next.

The night was crisp, and the city lights sparkled like a sea of diamonds below. The limo's interior was dim, illuminated only by the soft glow of the backseat reading lights and the flicker of the occasional street lamp as it sped along. You and Ben—Soldier Boy, as he was known—had taken full advantage of the privacy the car afforded.

Ben adjusted his black tuxedo, smoothing down the front while you fixed your dress, the deep crimson fabric clinging in all the right places. You cast a glance at Ben, who had a satisfied smirk on his face. His green eyes glinted with mischief as he adjusted his bow tie, the only hint of the evening’s earlier activities evident in the disheveled state of his usually pristine hair.

“You know,” you said, smoothing down the fabric of your dress, “I’ve got to hand it to you. You’re quite the multitasker.”

Ben chuckled, his grin widening. “Oh? And how’s that?”

“Managing to get us both worked up and still looking like a million bucks.” You winked at him. “Impressive.”

“Just a skill set I’ve developed over the years,” Ben replied, adjusting his cufflinks. “But you’re looking pretty damn incredible yourself.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide the pleased smile that spread across your face. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Soldier Boy.”

The limo pulled up to the entrance of the gala, the flashing lights of photographers and the murmur of the crowd growing louder as the vehicle came to a stop. The driver opened the door, and you stepped out, your heels clicking on the marble steps as you took in the opulence of the event.

The gala was a high-profile affair, hosted by one of the city’s elite charities. The grand entrance was adorned with gold-trimmed decorations, and a red carpet led to the entrance, where a steady stream of well-dressed guests were being greeted with champagne and smiles. You took Ben’s arm as you approached, the two of you looking every bit the glamorous couple you were pretending to be.

As you entered the ballroom, the grandeur of the venue hit you. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling, casting a soft glow over the elegant tables set with fine china and polished silverware. The guests were mingling, their laughter and conversation creating a lively, sophisticated buzz.

You and Ben made quite the entrance, heads turning as the two of you walked in together. It wasn’t long before you noticed a few curious glances and whispered conversations. You had always been used to attracting attention, but tonight it felt particularly charged, thanks to the way you and Ben had spent the ride over.

You turned to Ben with a sly grin. “Ready to make this night interesting?”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with anticipation. “Oh, I’m more than ready.”

As you made your way to the bar, you could feel the weight of several gazes on you. Ben seemed to enjoy the attention, his confidence practically radiating off him. You could sense a playful competitiveness between you and him, each of you trying to outdo the other with quips and subtle touches.

At the bar, you ordered a champagne and turned to Ben. “I see you’re still sporting that smirk. You think you can keep it up all night?”

Ben chuckled, his voice low and teasing. “Oh, I’m just getting started.”

A couple approached you—an elegantly dressed man and a woman in a stunning blue gown. They smiled politely, clearly eager to make your acquaintance.

“Good evening,” the man said, extending his hand. “I’m Richard, and this is my wife, Emily. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You shook Richard’s hand with a firm grip, then turned to Emily. “Nice to meet you. I’m Psyke, and this is Soldier Boy.”

Emily’s eyes widened slightly at the name, but she quickly recovered with a polite smile. “Oh, I’ve heard quite a bit about both of you. This must be quite the evening for you.”

Ben leaned in slightly, his voice smooth and confident. “Well, we do try to make things interesting.”

Emily chuckled, her gaze flicking between you and Ben. “I can see that. You both seem to be quite the pair.”

Richard nodded, clearly intrigued. “So, what brings you to the gala tonight?”

You raised an eyebrow, giving Ben a sidelong glance. “Well, let’s just say we’re here to enjoy ourselves and maybe shake things up a bit.”

Ben’s grin widened, and he wrapped an arm around your waist. “Psyke here likes to keep things lively. Keeps me on my toes.”

Emily laughed, clearly charmed by the banter. “Well, it sounds like you’re both having a good time.”

“Oh, you have no idea,” you said, giving Ben a playful nudge. “We’ve been having a lot of fun lately.”

The conversation continued, but you and Ben kept finding ways to tease each other, exchanging smirks and subtle touches. It was clear to everyone watching that there was more to your relationship than just a shared evening at a gala.

At one point, you caught Ben’s hand sliding down to give your ass a quick squeeze as you chatted with another guest. You raised an eyebrow and shot him a look that promised retribution later.

“Careful,” you warned in a low voice. “Or I might just have to show you who’s really in charge.”

Ben’s eyes sparkled with amusement. “Looking forward to it.”

As the night wore on, you and Ben continued to mingle with the other guests, your playful teasing never missing a beat. At one point, Ben even attempted to dance with you, though his moves were decidedly more suggestive than graceful. You found yourself laughing and trying to keep up, the entire scene feeling more like a private joke between the two of you than a formal event.

A particularly snooty woman approached, her eyes narrowing as she took in Ben’s casual demeanor and your playful interactions. “I’m surprised to see you here, Soldier Boy,” she said, her tone dripping with condescension. “And with Psyke, no less.”

Ben’s grin didn’t falter as he gave her a once-over. “Surprised? Well, I do like to keep people on their toes.”

The woman’s lips thinned, clearly unamused by Ben’s response. “I hope you’re not disrupting the event with your...antics.”

You stepped in, leaning close to the woman with a mischievous glint in your eye. “Oh, don’t worry. We’re just here to have a good time. If that’s too much for you, maybe you should have stayed home.”

The woman’s eyes widened in shock, and she quickly retreated, her face a mask of indignation. You and Ben exchanged a triumphant look, both of you clearly enjoying the minor scandal you’d caused.

As the evening continued, the two of you couldn’t resist finding more ways to push each other’s buttons. At one point, Ben leaned in close, his lips brushing against your ear. “You know, I’ve been thinking about our little ‘discussion’ earlier.”

You turned to him, a playful smile on your lips. “Oh? And what are you thinking?”

“Maybe it’s time I showed you just how much I appreciate your company,” Ben said, his voice low and suggestive.

Before you could respond, he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you close, his hands finding their way to your ass once again. You squealed in surprise as he gave you a quick, playful squeeze, earning a few curious glances from nearby guests.

“Oh, really?” you said, trying to sound shocked. “In the middle of a gala?”

Ben’s eyes twinkled with mischief. “Why not? We’re here to make an impression.”

You laughed, unable to resist his playful demeanor. “Well, in that case, I guess I’ll just have to keep you on your toes, too.”

The rest of the night passed in a whirlwind of laughter, playful banter, and more than a few surprised looks from other guests. You and Ben continued to push each other’s buttons, reveling in the way you could make even the most formal of events feel like your own personal playground.

As the evening drew to a close, you found yourselves back in the limo, the car’s interior a stark contrast to the glitz and glamour of the gala. Ben leaned back, his eyes still gleaming with satisfaction.

“Not a bad night,” he said, stretching his legs out with a contented sigh.

“Not bad at all,” you agreed, leaning back against him with a relaxed smile. “You sure know how to keep things interesting.”

Ben’s hand found its way to your thigh, his touch warm and reassuring. “Well, I do try. But I think I’m ready for the next round of fun.”

You raised an eyebrow, your lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh? And what do you have in mind?”

Ben’s grin was pure mischief. “You’ll find out soon enough.”

NOW:

You came to on the cold, hard floor of Hughie’s kitchen. The tile felt like ice against your cheek, and you tried to push yourself up but found your limbs unresponsive. A dull ache throbbed in your head, and the world spun around you in a dizzying blur. Your vision swam, and you could barely make out the shapes of the kitchen appliances and the scattered mess of Hughie’s apartment.

Through the haze, you heard the sound of footsteps approaching. They grew louder, more distinct, and you could faintly make out Hughie’s concerned voice.

“Jesus, what the hell?” Hughie’s voice was tinged with panic. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

You tried to speak, but the words came out as a mumbled mess, barely audible. Your mouth felt dry, and the effort to communicate left you feeling even more disoriented.

Hughie’s footsteps grew closer, and a moment later, you felt his hands gently lifting you from the floor. “Hang on. Let’s get you out of here.”

Before Hughie could do much more, another set of footsteps pounded into the kitchen. Ben burst through the door, his eyes scanning the room until they landed on you. His face went from confusion to fury in an instant.

“What the fuck happened?” Ben’s voice roared through the room, filled with an edge of panic. “Why the hell is she on the goddamn floor?”

Hughie looked sheepish, his face flushed with embarrassment. “I—I found her like this. I don’t know what’s wrong.”

Ben’s eyes narrowed as he approached, his anger palpable. “You found her like this? How the fuck long ago?”

“Just a few minutes,” Hughie stammered. “I was in the other room and—”

“—Jesus Christ,” Ben cut him off, his voice low and dangerously sharp. “You had her on the floor for more than a few minutes? What the hell kind of shit show is this?”

Without waiting for an answer, Ben knelt beside you. His rough hands were surprisingly gentle as he helped you onto your back. You were barely aware of what was happening, your head spinning and your limbs feeling like lead.

“Hey, stay with me,” Ben said, his voice a harsh whisper but filled with concern. “Can you hear me?”

You tried to nod, but the motion made your head spin even more. You blinked slowly, trying to focus on his face, which hovered above you like a shadowy figure.

Ben’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression was still a mixture of anger and worry. “Jesus, you’re out of it. What the hell did you take?”

“I… don’t know,” you managed to croak out, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I… can’t remember.”

“Of course you can’t,” Ben muttered, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Alright, we’re not calling the fucking hospital. Not yet. We’ll deal with this ourselves.”

He glanced over at Hughie. “Get some fucking pillows or something. We need to get her off the floor and make sure she’s okay.”

Hughie scrambled to follow Ben’s instructions, rushing to fetch a few cushions from the couch and placing them under your legs. Ben moved with a rough efficiency, lifting you and maneuvering you onto the sofa with surprising care. He propped your legs up with the pillows, making sure you were as comfortable as possible given the circumstances.

As you lay there, trying to steady your breathing, Ben hovered nearby, his face a mask of intense focus mixed with frustration. He looked at Hughie, who was standing awkwardly by the counter, clearly feeling out of his depth.

“Alright,” Ben said, his voice still sharp but less panicked. “What the fuck happened here, Hughie? Did she just fall or something?”

Hughie shook his head, clearly rattled. “I don’t know. I came in and found her like this. She was just lying there.”

Ben let out a frustrated sigh, turning back to you. “You’ve got to be kidding me. She’s high as balls and you didn’t even think to call for help?”

You tried to focus on Ben’s face, his green eyes piercing through your disorientation. “High?” you mumbled, confusion evident in your voice. “I don’t… remember.”

Ben’s gaze softened just a bit, though his tone remained gruff. “Yeah, well, whatever the hell you took, it’s fucking you up pretty good. You need to stay awake, alright? Don’t go drifting off on me.”

You tried to respond, but your head was swimming, and the effort only seemed to make things worse. Ben’s frustration was evident, but there was a thread of genuine concern in his voice.

“You’re going to be fine,” Ben said, his tone a mix of roughness and reassurance. “We just need to ride this out and figure out what the hell happened.”

He looked at Hughie again. “Make yourself useful. Get us some water and maybe something to eat. If she’s been out of it for a while, she’s going to need to rehydrate and get some energy back.”

Hughie nodded quickly, darting off to the kitchen. Ben’s attention turned back to you as he settled into a nearby chair, his gaze never leaving your face.

“So, this is how you decide to spend your day?” Ben said, his voice gruff but tinged with a wry edge. “Lying on the floor, all out of it. Fucking great way to spend an evening.”

You tried to muster a weak smile, but the effort left you feeling even dizzier. “Sorry… didn’t mean to…”

Ben cut you off, his expression softening slightly despite the rough edge in his voice. “Don’t apologize. Just focus on staying awake. We’ve got this covered.”

He leaned forward slightly, his eyes scanning your face as if trying to read what was left of your consciousness. “And for the record, if you’re going to get yourself fucked up, at least do it somewhere I don’t have to clean up after.”

You managed a feeble chuckle, which only made your head spin more. “Noted.”

Hughie returned with a glass of water and a small plate of crackers. He set them down on the coffee table in front of you, looking more than a little relieved to have something to do. “Here you go. Try to drink some of this.”

You struggled to sit up slightly, your hands trembling as you reached for the water. Ben moved closer, his hand steadying yours as you took a few sips.

“Slowly,” he instructed. “Don’t rush it.”

You nodded weakly, your throat feeling like sandpaper as you drank. The water helped a little, though it didn’t completely clear the fog in your head.

“Better?” Ben asked, his voice still gruff but with a hint of concern.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, though the word came out as more of a slur. “Just… dizzy.”

Ben sighed, his expression a mixture of frustration and empathy. “We’ll get you through this. Just hang tight.”

Hughie watched from the sidelines, clearly feeling out of his depth. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Ben shot him a look that was both appreciative and impatient. “Just keep an eye on her. Make sure she doesn’t slip back out. I’ll figure out what the hell we’re dealing with.”

Hughie nodded and took a seat across the room, his gaze occasionally flicking toward you with concern. You tried to focus on the voices around you, the conversations blending into a background noise as you fought to keep yourself awake.

Ben stayed close, his presence a reassuring constant in the midst of the confusion. He occasionally checked your pulse, his movements deliberate and precise, and though his words were rough, there was an undeniable care in his actions.

As time passed, the disorientation began to fade slowly. You could feel the room starting to come back into focus, and the nausea receded somewhat. Ben’s gruff comments and occasional jokes about your state made the whole situation seem almost surreal, adding a touch of humor to the otherwise unsettling experience.

“So,” Ben said after a while, his tone more conversational, “what exactly did you get into, anyway? You got some sort of new drug or something?”

You shook your head, trying to clear the fog from your mind. “I… I don’t know. I don’t remember.”

Ben gave a skeptical look but didn’t press the issue further. “Alright, well, let’s just get through this and figure it out. In the meantime, just try to relax and stay with us.”

You managed a faint smile, feeling a bit more lucid as the minutes went by. Ben’s rough demeanor had its own charm, and though his swearing and brusque attitude were far from comforting, there was a sense of reliability in his presence.

“Thanks,” you said softly, the words coming more easily now. “For… helping.”

Ben’s expression softened slightly, though his voice remained gruff. “Don’t mention it. Just try not to make a habit of this, alright?”

You nodded, feeling a bit better with each passing moment. Hughie continued to keep watch, his concern evident but his actions hesitant. Ben’s constant vigilance and occasional snide remarks kept you grounded, providing a steadying influence as you slowly regained your strength.

The night wore on, and as the initial haze of disorientation cleared, you felt yourself growing more coherent. Ben’s rough charm and Hughie’s well-meaning but somewhat awkward attempts to help created an oddly comforting atmosphere, despite the chaos.

Eventually, as you started to feel more like yourself, Ben leaned back in his chair, his expression a mixture of relief

and exasperation. “Well, you’re not exactly back to normal, but at least you’re not out cold on the floor anymore.”

You gave him a weak smile, appreciating the effort even if his methods were a bit unconventional. “I’ll take it.”

Ben nodded, his gaze shifting to Hughie. “Alright, I think we’re good here. Just keep an eye on her and let me know if anything changes.”

Hughie nodded, looking more relieved. “Will do. Thanks for—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Ben interrupted, standing up and stretching. “Just don’t fuck it up again.”

As Ben headed for the door, he threw a final glance back at you. “And for the record, if you’re going to get yourself fucked up, at least make sure it’s something worth the trouble.”

With that, he was gone, leaving you and Hughie in the quiet of the apartment. The disorientation was mostly gone now, and you felt more like yourself, though still a bit shaky.

Hughie moved closer, offering a reassuring smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Better,” you said, your voice stronger now. “Thanks for—”

“Don’t mention it,” Hughie said quickly, though there was genuine relief in his eyes. “Just glad you’re okay.”

You nodded, grateful for his concern even if his presence had felt a bit like a secondary player in the drama. Then you frowned. “Cocksucker.”

“Yeah?” Hughie instantly answered, perking up a little, making you inwardly laugh at the fact that he actually responded to that.

“I didn’t take anything that strong.” You frowned, rubbing your forehead. If so, what the fuck did that?”

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

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[maxwell-grant]

The Penguin: Episode 6 "Gold Summit" Breakdown

To taking back Gotham

(Episode 1) (Episode 2) (Episode 3) (Episode 4) (Episode 5)

"His family's still fucking ash" lmao you fucking piece of shit

Rules that this follows directly from last episode's triumphant ending and that here we open in what could be an opening monologue for The Batman 2: On Ice. Shots of the city interspersed with a biker making his way underground to the sound of music while we hear our protagonist talking about the changing tides for the city that eventually turns out to be happening in real time (Bruce writing down on his journal - Oz giving a pep talk to his dealers). Love that this opening speech is Oz's take on the Something In The Way Hmmmmm Monologue.

Gotham already divided into feudal warlordism with the gangs scrapping for territory amongst each other and Oz the guy who's most qualified to seize them as clients because he's under all of them and knows the city like the back of his hand

I love the opening speech he gives to Victor and I'll quote it here

"Look around. Look at what we got, kid. The good people of Crown Point, hard at woick, right? Protectin us. Keepin this whole fuckin ting quiet. We got their loyalty. And we got their love. You know why? Cause we pay 'em. You know how meaningful that is, Vic? To be da guy in the neighborhood who takes care a'people? They're gonna tell stories about us one day, kid. Victor Aguilar....and Oswald Cobb...yeah. Our names are gonna live forever...

I love the way he delivers these last lines, like he can't even believe it himself. He says Victor Aguilar in friendly pep talk mode and then stops and sobers up once he says his own name, like he can't even believe that he's not bullshitting anymore and this is all actually happening. Maybe the first time he's ever opened his heart about his dream to anyone other than maybe his ma, and wasn't rebuffed or dismissed for it, the first time he ever seriously meant it

Oz openly admits that he's paying for their love and regards having that love as an unbelievable personal milestone because the dude cannot conceive of non-transactional love

Oz 100% convinced that being the guy who sells drugs to the community and implicates them all in his underground black market is him being the great neighborhood guy who takes care of people is just so Oz, such a Penguin thing from him. So sincerely and utterly childishly convinced of his own hype, the most ardent believer in his own bullshit.

It's great that for Sofia, the hardened gangster and family enemy is this warm father figure here to mostly lend moral support and steer her right as best he can, and the repentant "nice guy" therapist devoted to her is the dark twisted bad boy she can fuck and workshop forms of torture with.

Clancy Brown in his natural element playing a criminal dad. I love that he gets a role here where he can bring so much warmth and affection and sorrow to it.

I love that Sal Maroni, partially because of his role as the opposite of Carmine Falcone, is kind of an easily-played chump, and this is prominent in the scene they'll have later at Oz's apartment with Sal blinded with rage smashing anything he can find while Sofia's the one who actually finds a path to Oz, but I also like their conversation here where he corrects her in thinking that the Triads won't back down on their deal, providing some needed experience and street knowledge to Sofia, who is still relatively naive given her upbringing and isolation.

I love the contrast set this episode, between Oz and Sofia's family units, both with their sidekick and their family member. Sofia and Sal with a lovely dinner made from an old family recipe inside the opulent Falcone mansion, while Oz and Victor and Francis squat in a stolen apartment on the the apocalyptically shitty Crown Point over scrambled eggs not even with any electricity in the building.

Every scene with Francis just crushes me, trust me if I don't talk about her enough it's certainly not because there's nothing to talk about. I don't wanna think about what kind of horrible bomb they're sitting on regarding how Oz's brothers died, I don't even wanna think about Francis' scenes in general even if they're all terrific.

This one line does so much to explain what is up with Oz's worship of Rex Calabrese. He wasn't just this cool guy who ran the neighborhood and had a cool chariot and took care of people and died the kind of death Oswald desperately wants to have, he was the guy who got shit done, the guy that Oz's mom relied on more so than his actual dad. He was the guy who got the closest to achieving the main and only thing Oz wants, to be the guy who can take care of his mother.

The whole bit with Jack is even more crushing. You get where Oz's hurt is coming from, you get why he think Victor's crossing a line, you get he doesn't want to set her up for even more dissappointment and why he needs to be hard and real with her as she is to him, but at the same time, you also get why Francis is so miserable a lot of the time. Victor actually is vastly more qualified to tending to her emotional needs than Oz, he actually does have nurse-like qualities as a result of his mom, he's doing what you're instructed to do with dementia patients and Francis gets the tiniest little nugget of joy and relief, before Oz rips it away and stomps on it, in no small part because he still refuses to admit what's happening to her, and he cannot accept that he's not taking care of her the way she needs someone to. Oz is trying his damndest to and it's not working, he's not good at it. Even besides the shithole they're in because of his actions, he's not good at being warm and thoughtful and considerate to other people, and he was never raised to be. This is the one thing in the world he wants and needs to do more than anything else, and he just sucks at it no matter how hard he tries.

"The hanging and the pinky? Jesus Sofia, pick a fucking lane" lmao

Just in case you forgot that this is a guy who cares about the branding, the trademarks of how you murder people and sign your name on it, seen all the way from bickering with Victor in Episode 1 over the best way to deliver the corpse to the Falcones. Of course he cares about the branding, he's a Batman Villain.

Love the creeping musical sting that plays as he figures out what to do, when he gets his impossible idea to solve an impossible conundrum. Love the cigar that teleports into his lips mid cut.

What Sofia says here, that Oz's greatest asset is that he has nobody he cares about. It isn't true of Oz for now, but it definitely rings true of her, that there's not really anyone she cares about that is still alive and thus Oz can't hurt her nearly as much as she can hurt him.

LEFRANC: We know Oz's brothers have died, and we don't really know why or how it happened. But with that, I think, comes a very heightened relationship between Francis and Oz. It's just the two of them now. So all the love that Francis had across three boys is put into one man, and every - all her hopes and dreams for whatever this person could do across three boys is all put into one person. And it felt interesting to explore, in part, why she's so intent on having him succeed. O'CONNELL: There is nobody. It's just the two of them They had to let go of a lot of relationships to just keep this clarity. I think they moved through a lot of people - The Penguin Podcast Episode 6

I totally forgot that Oswald giving his mother jewelry he attained from bloody methods comes from Pain and Prejudice and honestly I kinda forgot most of that comic in general, although I'm not surprised to hear directly that this was the Penguin comic Lauren LeFranc named as a reference, that much is kinda obvious.

I think I said before that I'm not too big a fan of Pain and Prejudice and that my feelings on it only really got more mixed to negative over time, even though there are still things about it I do very much like. It doesn't actually matter that much because the show doing incredible redefining definitive stuff out of largely mediocre comics is something this saga has been doing since the movie (Long Halloween, Hush, fucking Earth One), spinning gold out of manure is one of the strongest points of adapting this stuff in the first place. I'm mostly bringing this up because I don't want to talk about that scene, some scenes I just wanna digest privately and not pour a ramble on top of them.

Cannot get over the close-up of Oz putting lipstick on his mom while we see the dirt beneath his fingers.

Love that Victor's eventual decision to murder Squid starts from this scene where he tries to reach out to Oz for a solution to this problem, and sees that Oz is not even remotely in the mental space to think about this right now, and so Vic sidesteps the issue and decides to try and handle it solo with money. I love that Victor's first murder comes not from Oz telling him to do it, not even implying it, but from Victor's emotional intelligence leading him to figure out where Oz is at and decide not to overload him with another burden, correctly trying to handle the situation himself but incorrectly assuming he could just appeal to cash-based compromise like he could with the cop. I like that it's specifically a very Victor decision and situation to arrive at, done not because of anything Oz decides but to protect Oz and Francis as his new family.

I like that "he has nurse-like qualities" wasn't just a dumb joke, but an extremely accurate assessment of Victor's character disguised as a dumb joke.

Hahaha fuck yeah they did a "Could be worse, my nose could be gushing blood" bit.

This isn't a show that's really committed to nerd references but there were definitely a lot more than in most previous episodes and that includes what feels like several references to Batman Returns. The coat he wears underground, the politician nose mangling, the cold underground hideout, power being siphoned from the city, I was kinda parsing them as mostly coincidences and then it turned out that Oz's cold miserable apartment was in the fucking Zoo of all things.

I've grown increasingly mixed-to-negative feelings on comic book villains, and specifically Batman villains, painted as overtly sympathetic and justified anti-heroes scrapping against bigger and more blatantly uncomplicatedly evil targets like the government and Elon Musk pastiches and yadda yadda, largely because I increasingly do not care for dumb simplistic toothless bullshit done with characters sold as violent and edgy and morally complicated and etc, that's a whole other thing. I'm just prefacing this because, all else said, Penguin threatening and sticking pliers up a corrupt politician's nose to force him to put the power back on a poor neighborhood, even if it was really just for his mom and criminal operation, was extremely cool and good and I was rooting for him the whole time (well, more so than I already am).

"You think you can just raw dog the people of Gotham with an invisible dick?" Thank you Dan Fuchs, this Fuchs, I know you're very happy you got this through WB.

BADIE: You would think Eve's apartment, the way she presents herself in her outdoor appearence, you would think she'd be slightly more pulled together, but you see she is vulnerable. You did see wigs cause that's her thing. She's costuming. She plays characters all the time in her world, and with Oz and with everybody. Just like she said, Oz doesn't like to see her in her natural state. They want the fantasy. - The Penguin Podcast Episode 6

Much like the scene with Francis at the bathtub was a keystone they used to figure out the rest of the character, the scene with Eve here definitely feels like the scene that informs her entire role and justification for being here, a real highlight of the series.

Excellent twist for a start, leading us (and Sofia) to assume Roxy was selling out Eve, using Sofia's natural expectations towards distrust and backstabbings and her preconceived notions about these people as well as ours, playing off how we were already narratively primed to mistrust Roxy based on her prior appearences, before revealing Eve asked her to do it so she could take the bullet for her girls. LeFranc calls them the strongest family unit in the show and this scene proves it (and also makes me think Oz will definitely ruin it down the line)

Extremely good tennis match scene between them, Eve trying to maneuver herself into the least disgraceful way to die while Sofia tries to maneuver her into a more justifiable victim, and then the Hangman is brought up and then turned around and it sinks in for both of them that this is not going where they expected it to, and how they both have more in common than realized until by the end they're almost on the same page, because Sofia maneuvered Eve into a position where she cannot blame Sofia for what she's doing / condemn her as a privileged monster, and Eve maneuvered Sofia into a position where she can't kill her without proving her right / becoming her father.

I didn't think they were neglecting the severity of it, but I'm glad to see it spat out on such clear terms here that Oz was complicit in the horrible shit Carmine did to those sex workers, that Oz sold out Sofia for a job promotion, that he knew that Carmine killed his wife and those women and knew that he'd keep on killing and kept quiet about it, that he has no business parading himself as an ally and a friend to Eve and her girls when he helped cover up the brutal murders of her friends.

Sofia goes into that interaction with a lot of preconceived notions about who this person is and a lot of judgments about why would you perform for men? Sofia comes from her own very privileged life, even though her life has been absolutely and utterly awful. She still, I think, comes in with a lot of judgment and disdain. Also, she knows Eve has been part of the lie about the death of her brother, and that is such an engine for her that everyone must pay for her loss. But she sees in Eve someone who has also been underestimated and overlooked. Who she encounters is actually extremely smart and real, and I think just gets through to her. Clearly, Sofia’s body count at this point in the show is so many. [laughs] But she still has a very specific code of villain ethics. She can’t be responsible for taking the life of someone in the way that she was accused of. It’s almost like Tony Soprano with the Ducks. She spares a child. She won’t engage in the type of murder that she was accused of, especially when she connects with someone. But then when it comes to her family, other people on the show, it’s not even a thought. - Cristin Milioti

Eve with the umbrella symbol, the person in the show who is most concerned about protecting her family / the people under her from the world surrounding them, to the point she is willing to die not just for the girls but for Oz, until it sinks in just how deeply Oz has always been betraying her and she's willing to let Sofia have her chance to kill him even when she's already out the door sparing her.

This is part of why LeFranc has repeteadly stressed that she wanted Oz to be a man who respects women, who relates and acts differently towards them than other gangsters. Not just because of how it reflects his relationship with his mom, but because of his relationship with Eve and this scene. The actions he takes and the brutality against them he's complicit in, no matter how nice and respectful and upstanding he is at them to their faces, because he still backstabbed them and fed their friends to the meat grinder. Even if there was nothing he could do against the Falcones and he had his mother to take care of first and foremost, even if he had his reasons, he still pushed them under the bus and profited from his silence and acted like he was such a big fucking friend to them all.

Someone who can be the biggest feministest ally of all time to women they're friends with / want to fuck / will do things for them, not even entirely in a fake self-serving way but actively believing they're being a good guy doing right by them, and still be passively and actively complicit in horrific misogynistic brutalities, and they will even be rewarded for it.

If you don't know someone who calls himself your good ally, and who would sit by and let the Hangman cruelly butcher you and your loved ones, in return for a promotion or out of mere personal convenience and never even think twice about it, well who am I kidding, you obviously know someone like that, you know a thousand someones like that.

Extremely rules that we get Sofia and Eve, embodying the two different extremes of Gotham, coming together to realize how they've both been used and discarded by Oz, on the same episode he ends by giving his big Independence Day speech to rally the gangs in class warfare. I'm sure the future images we've seen of him in the fucking top hat bode extremely well for this revolution of theirs.

Lmao I was comparing him to Paulie day one and then he does the patented Sirico finger point. Surviving the Gotham wars by the skin of his nuts.

I love Gotham mob hierarchies, I would like to learn more about these guys. Love that this moment of Oz rallying up forces against the upper strata of Gotham crime families, the first time he assembles an actual criminal empire to help him, involves him calling together his own Five Families. A Five Families made from Gotham street criminals uniting under his banner to take out the last and greatest titans of the upper class organized crime that ruled the city for the past 20 years.

"They don't even know your fucking nAAAAAME"

Beautifully elegant directing, using the crackling beers in place of where any dialogue would feel a tad too corny.

Oz driving to a meeting full of gangs lining up to kill him and getting them lining up to join him is maybe a first, or at least very rare, as far as The Penguin, really any version of The Penguin, showing actual leadership skills, showing how does he get people to work for him and give him things even when he's in no position to threaten them and they disdain him and know he is not to be trusted.

(Edit by thebatfilm)

Oz taking over the world with a giant ice box

Love how Oz responds to the interruptions in the speech, how good he is at turning those extremely valid criticisms and reads around as reasons they should join up him.

People don't trust you Oz, you're a piece of shit, and you're ugly, and you ooze sleaze and you're very very ugly

I made the comparison above between Oz with the beers and Bruce with the flare because to me, this feels like Oz's pivotal moment, this is his flare moment, the scene where you can see the legend of what this man is and will become take form in front of the city. The moment this classless codeless fool, this crude little backstabber hated more than any other criminal in town, a bargain-basement hustler derisively named The Penguin, rises through the ranks to become the king of the city.

The Penguin ready to take over as soon as winter rolls into Gotham.

(Credit to @postbusters2k16 on twitter for pointing this out)

Once again, the happiest moments we'll ever see Francis in, and Oz is not there to see it.

And oh hey there's one more set of parallels, probably not intentional, but it sure seems like Victor's speedrunning his way through Jason Todd-isms. Starting off by attempting to steal the hubcaps off the Penguinmobile was one thing but this episode goes all in. The motorcycle, the gun, a criminal named Squid (who was a part of the storyline that introduced Jason Todd and Killer Croc), shooting his first criminal dead, being traumatized, getting pulled deeper into the deep end, ending the episode with a Batman Villain holding a crowbar while looming over him and his (new) mom.

Fun times ahead for everyone.

[gilbirda]

Friendly neighborhood vigilante. Chapter 18

BatmanxDP crossover. JasonxJazz

[Read on AO3] [Read on FF.net]

Based on this post

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“Are you still mad at me?”

Jason sighed. “I’m not mad.”

She didn’t like his answer, but contained herself. Like she did all the thousand times in the last hour.

“I promise I’m not mad.”

Her eyes were deep turquoise pools without end. He usually didn’t feel analyzed when she looked at him, she was very firm on never using her skills on him despite joking about not being a good doctor; but now he could almost feel her poke around in his head. He didn’t like it.

“I was mad, but I‘m not anymore. Promise.”

She liked that answer even less than the other one. “I’m sorry.”

She was being honest. Like she had been the first thousand times she apologized.

It wasn’t about being sorry or being mad with her. It was just—

“I shouldn’t have said yes without asking.”

He stopped walking, took a deep breath and turned to look at his girlfriend. She was twisting the hem of her blouse, her bottom lip between her teeth, her eyebrows furrowed. He had no doubt that Jazz was sorry about making that deal with Bruce the previous day, but it didn’t mean that her actions didn’t hurt.

He ignored the pinch in his chest.

Jazz was not like his family, he tried to remind himself once more. She didn’t act because she thought she knew what he wanted better than him, or because she was so sure she was in the right that she wouldn’t waste time asking him if he agreed.

The moment Bruce was out of that window she looked at him with wide eyes. “I fucked up,” she had said without hesitation, throwing him off the spiraling thoughts of betrayal.

How he was feeling was probably written in his face, he had no doubt. Sure, the Pit wasn’t clouding his thoughts — and it hasn’t done so in a while, not even when he thought that Jazz had used him as a guinea pig with the Lazarus Waters — but even with a clear head he was still not okay.

They had talked. For hours.

Figures that his first real argument with his girlfriend would be Bruce’s fault — he was not counting the whole drama of that week as a “couple’s argument".

Jazz's usual ramblings, which in any other situation would be endearing, was then grating to his ears. Excuse after excuse, she kept explaining, or trying to, that she thought he needed to go to that dinner. That his problems with Bruce, while valid, shouldn’t deny him a relationship with the others. That she would be there and could act as a shield—

He had to stop her right there.

It was an awful lot of assumptions, he told her. She didn’t even know about his past, he growled.

That made her stop. “You are right, I don’t. I wish to know, when you want to tell me. I want to know everything about you.” She finally looked him in the eyes properly. “But I still think that deep inside you want to go to the dinner.”

He wanted to go. He wanted to see Alfred and see his second childhood home (the nicer one) and meet the new people in the family.

She knew he wanted to go, because she was one of the few people in the world that could see past his tough guy exterior and actually made an effort to see what was inside.

Still, he would like it if next time, his girlfriend didn’t make a decision for him. He told her so and the argument ended in a better tone, with a hug and soft kiss goodnight.

Why was Jazz insisting again, you ask?

“You shouldn’t have, no. But you apologized and I think I’ve told you to not apologize if nobody was hurt. I’m fine. Shall we go to that damn dinner?” He gestured towards the elevator, and of course Jazz didn’t move.

She stopped biting her lip, but her hands kept torturing the hem of her blouse.

“You don’t look fine.”

Okay. Not only were they going to that stupid dinner because of her, but they were going to be late because of her as well.

He sighed, rubbing his face.

“Well I’m perfectly okay. Can we please get moving?”

Jazz frowned, like he just kicked a puppy or something.

“Danny always—”

“Well I’m not Danny!”

The silence was only broken by the echo of his shout in the empty hallway. It was only then that he noticed he was breathing heavily.

Jason stopped, straightened his back and took a deep breath. Only then he looked back at Jazz, finding those hurt eyes that he had only seen back at his other safehouse, when he accused her of so many horrible things.

The image of a bruised wrist passed behind his eyes.

He was not his father. Either of them.

“Listen—”

“I’m—”

Both stopped talking, looking at each other in a tense silence.

When she didn’t say anything else, he continued. “I’m not your brother, Jazz. I understand that you feel sorry and I understand why you jumped like that. Yes, I’m upset, but I just— I don’t need a talk about feelings right now, ok?”

She processed his words for a moment.

“You need time.” It wasn’t a question.

“I— Yes.”

She tilted her head. “Time away from ‘us’?”

“What? No!” What the actual fuck? “No, I just got you back, why would I want to be apart from you?”

Jazz’s cheeks tinted a bit red just as she looked down at her hands, finally letting go of the piece of clothing.

“Just wanted to check,” she said with a small shrug, still looking down. “Didn’t want to assume things.”

This made him chuckle.

“You are silly.”

At least she was smiling when she looked up at him. “Can I hug you?”

Instead of an answer, Jason walked towards her and pulled her into his chest, easily circling his arms around her body. It was comfortable and it felt right, having her so close. He kissed the top of her head, breathing in her shampoo.

“We cool?” She asked against his chest.

He nodded, even if she wouldn’t be able to see it. “We cool.”

By the time they got to the bike, all the bad feelings had been replaced with tender kisses. Jazz offered to bail on the dinner and blame it on her if necessary, but at that point Jason was so fed up with the stupid dinner he wanted to go out of spite.

The ride was uneventful, Jazz’s long dress pants and heeled sandals weren’t a problem to ride a motorbike.

They made the trip to the Manor in silence, Jason’s mind disconnected from the motions as familiar landscape passed by them at high speed. It has been a while since he climbed the hills towards Bristol, but he couldn’t remember if the last time was when he brought that first edition to Alfred so he knew he was alive, or if there was a more recent instance.

In any case, the familiar shape of Wayne Manor was impossible to miss, nor were the empty roads that were far from civilization and the common people living in the rest of the city.

Jason expected to feel rage, to feel dread, to feel the painful anticipation before facing something that you really don’t want to experience — but as troubling thoughts started to plague his mind, he felt strong but gentle arms tighten around his waist, not giving the thoughts enough time to settle in his mind.

That’s right, he wasn’t alone. He didn’t need to face things alone. Not anymore.

The silence was broken as he parked close to the door and both got out of the vehicle.

“It’s… big.”

He snorted at her comment. “Don’t let the opulence get to you.”

Jazz hummed in thought. “Oh it doesn’t. Is not my first time in a mansion this big.” She turned to look at him with a little smile. “I haven’t told you about the time we lived in a mansion?”

He chuckled as he stored the helmets away. “Sounds like a fun story. Wanna share with the class?”

Her eyes glazed over for a moment, and he knew she was considering if she needed to lie to him. It didn’t hurt that much, especially not now that he knew why she needed to measure her words.

“The GIW paid my parents an absurd amount of money in exchange of our house and all the ghost hunting technology. Danny was thrilled, of course, since he always wanted to be rich. We had our own butler and everything.” She sighed dramatically. “It ended quickly when Danny found out that what the GIW truly wanted was access to the portal to nuke the Ghost Zone. He barely stopped them in time and the day was saved once again.”

“Nuke the Ghost Zone?” He asked as they started walking towards the Manor. “Sounds dangerous.”

“Very. The Ghost Zone, or the Infinite Realms, are like… what was the word?” Jazz thought about it for a moment, one finger on her lips with smudged pale pink lipstick. Which reminded him to check that he didn’t have lipstick stains on his face. He would never live that down. “It is like… a mirror dimension of this one! Yes, that was the thing. Anyway, if that one is destroyed, this one goes as well.”

He lifted an eyebrow, stopping right at the front door. “You guys have dealt with crazy stuff, haven't you?”

Her smile was tired. “You have no idea.”

There was more she wanted to say, but both knew it wasn’t the moment or the place. There was so much pain, so many secrets, in her teal eyes that he wondered how he hadn’t noticed before. Had she been hiding all of that from him? Of course she had, she was good and hiding and lying. Jazz was burdened by secrets that weren’t her own and a past she couldn’t share.

Once again she reminded him so much of Dick, and how his brother was all smiles and circus tricks to distract you from the pain Jason could see in his eyes when Dick thought nobody was looking. He knew there were things his brother wasn’t telling him, and he never pressed. Everybody had their secrets. Even him. Even his girlfriend.

But, unlike with his brother, Jason wanted to know those secrets — not to make sure she was not a supervillain, but because he wanted to carry that burden with her. It hurt to see her in pain. He wanted to take away her sorrows so she didn’t have to look like this.

Jason cupped her face with one hand, for once not worrying about his calloused palm being rough on her soft skin. She leaned into the touch.

He put his other hand on her waist, leaning in for a last kiss. She eagerly placed her hands on his chest, responding to the kiss with a little smile against his lips. He felt her sigh and melt into his arms, all worrying thoughts escaping her mind this time.

He may not be able to take away all her sorrows, but he was happy to distract her from them for the moment.

When they parted, he saw a curtain quickly be closed in a nearby window.

He sighed, knowing that it was showtime.

“Ready?”

At her nod, he rang the bell.

Of course, the door was opened immediately. Alfred had been waiting behind the closed door, with half the family standing there, trying to not make it obvious they've been eavesdropping.

“Welcome,” the butler said with a smile. Jason answered with one of his own, happy to see the old man. “May I take your coats?”

Jazz hid her nervousness as she gave her denim jacket to the butler, softly introducing herself to him.

“Jason.”

He looked up, finding Bruce standing there with a stupid turtleneck and sensible jeans, selling the whole “dad” thing. He kept an open and non-aggressive stance, with a small smile. He even wore stupid superhero slippers.

“Bruce.”

Jazz came back to the tense silence, tapping him on the shoulder.

“Your jacket, dear?”

He looked away from Bruce and took off his jacket, deciding to not give it to the man to ruin this night for him and his girlfriend. Jazz deserved to have a good time, and he would not be the one that fucks this up for her.

“Jasmine—”

“Jazz is fine,” her smile was polite, although not as warm as the ones she gave him. “Thank you for inviting us.”

It was a charged sentence, of course, since Bruce never intended to actually personally invite anyone — he always sent Dick to mediate between them. And they only accepted to come after he fucked up so bad he had to make a deal to even start apologizing.

He knew. They knew. The others knew.

Jason snorted.

He loved his girlfriend to bits.

“So…”

Everyone turned to look at Dick, who was smiling in that specific way. The one where he was trying hard to become a distraction.

“Aren’t you going to introduce us?”

“She knows who you are.”

“Well, maybe she wants to have a more formal introduction, given the circumstances.”

“She is right here.”

Now everyone looked at Jazz, who didn’t seem amused at being talked over like she wasn’t there.

“Right. Okay.” Jason sighed dramatically and got ready for grating night. “Jazz, these are Dickolas, Timbit, and Bruce, who you have already met.” He vaguely made a gesture towards them. Tim was biting his lips, trying not to laugh. “This is Alfred,” he put a hand on his shoulder, smiling when the older man placed one of his gloved hands over his, “he taught me how to cook.”

Jazz’s eyes widened when she made the connection — right, he had scarcely talked about his childhood that dinner when they kissed for the first time.

“Pleased to make your acquaintance.” Alfred said with a slight bow.

She answered with one of her own. “The pleasure is all mine. Jason has talked a lot about you.”

He hadn’t, right? Now he couldn’t remember exactly how much he had told her.

To hide his blush, he continued. “And this is Cass.” He pointed at the silent and observant figure of Cassandra next to Bruce. “She is—”

“Black Bat.”

Cass smiled broadly at Jazz’s words, nodding and approaching her to sneak her arms around her before anybody could stop her. She pet Jazz’s long red hair a few times before letting her go.

“Welcome.” She said.

Jazz blinked in confusion for a moment before smiling back.

“Thanks!”

Both smiled at each other for a few moments, his girlfriend’s shoulders finally relaxing. She was nervous, he knew, and she was hiding it well. Did Cass notice that as well?

She was some of the few he interacted less with, and he didn’t know her as much as the others. From his investigation he knew who she was and where she came from, what she was capable of and why she didn’t kill; but he had never seen her without her suit, or from this close. Black Bat was a shadow, barely seen but always there.

But Cassandra was all smiles when she took Jazz’s hand in hers and pulled her further into the house with a skip in her step, visibly excited to meet the new person.

“The others are in the living room.” Alfred answered Jason’s unasked question. “Dinner will be served in an hour.”

With that, he disappeared through a door and went probably to the kitchen to finish preparing everything.

Right.

Dinner.

“Everything alright?” Tim’s question brought him back to the group already walking away from him. He rushed to Jazz’s side.

“Uh?” Jazz’s attention snapped back to Tim, her eyes had been fixed on a corner in the ceiling. “Sorry, can you repeat that?”

Tim glanced at Jason with a slight frown, silently asking if he knew what’s up. “You seem distracted.”

He hadn’t even finished his sentence and Jazz was already looking away, this time up the giant stairs that went to the east and west wings of the Manor. Her eyes on the door toward the East Wing, the Family Wing.

“Darling?” Jason gently touched her side.

“I’m…” Her eyes moved with intention, like they were following something running down the stairways and towards the hallway to the left. “Is just…”

When her eyes started to water, Jason pulled on her arm and made her stop. Something was up, he was sure of it.

“What’s wrong?”

“I’m sorry, I…” with her free hand she wiped the tears away. “It’s— This house has belonged to the family for generations, right?”

Everyone looked at Bruce, who tilted his head. “Yes. Why is that important?”

Ah, Bruce. Always demanding.

“Well, huh.” She sighed, wiping away more tears, careful to not smudge her eyeliner too much. “There’s no easy way to say this but… The place is haunted.”

As she said it, she glanced behind Bruce, narrowing her eyes. There was nothing there, of course. Nothing except—

“Ghosts?”

“Yeah, that’s what haunted means.”

Dick rolled his eyes at the answer. “I mean, are there ghosts here?”

Jason didn’t miss Tim’s nervous look at Bruce, or how the man looked around, wary.

“There are ghosts everywhere in this damn city.” She chuckled. “But this place feels like… You know when a cursed place feels wrong? Like you don’t need to know the backstory to know something bad happened there?”

Everyone tensed. Jazz wiped more tears.

“Well, this place is like that, but the opposite. So many lives, so many—” More tears flowed down her face, but she didn’t seem sad. She frowned like she was getting pretty annoyed. “Damn it!” She turned on her heels and glared at the empty stairs. “Yes, I can see you! And hear you! Stop making a show!”

Jason felt it. He didn’t know how, but he felt like something that was there had fled away at the woman’s words.

“Thank you!” She huffed, straightening her back and wiping her wet hands on the hem of her blouse. “So rude!” She shook her head in disbelief, finally turning back to them. “I’m sorry, what was I saying?”

Jason was the one that recovered first. Yes. His girlfriend could see ghosts. That was normal. Just one more thing to the list.

“What did you see?”

Did she see Bruce’s parents? They didn’t die in the Manor, but…

“I couldn’t say… Not every ghost maintains their form when they are created, and these didn’t.” She smiled, apologetic. “They were very chatty, though. I’m sorry.”

There was a moment of silence, broken when Tim clicked his tongue.

“Well, that’s surely something that happened.”

“Uh…”

“So my house is haunted?”

Jazz blinked. “You’ve never noticed? Have you never felt the protection magic around the house? Even mortals are capable of detecting ghost magic, especially as strong as this one is.”

Dick mouthed “ghost magic”, flabbergasted.

“No. I can’t say that I have.” Bruce answered slowly. “If I show you photos, could you identify the ghosts?”

Cass pulled the hand she was still holding and hugged Jazz close to her chest and away from Bruce. “No work talk.”

“Right, um,” he cleared his throat, suddenly very uncomfortable, “sorry about that. Tonight is supposed to be a normal family dinner.”

Jason wondered how many lectures he had gotten before they arrived. He still found it funny that his apology had been coached via comms — sad, but funny. It wasn’t surprising that the old man was incapable of offering an honest apology on his own.

They continued walking, Jazz now more present than before, offering casual explanations about what she was used to with ghosts, why she was crying — she laughed, saying that it was her body’s way of reacting to ghostly presence — and that she had been planning on setting up a protection spell but this was stronger than whatever she could do anyway.

Soon they were in the main living area, the voices of the others bouncing out of the door. Jason recognized the place — that’s where the gaming console was when he was little, and where Bruce usually sat to read with him after school and before patrol.

The memories weren’t as painful as he thought they would be. Sad, of course, given that those moments were from a life he couldn’t get back no matter how much he wished for it.

But the room wasn’t the same quiet haven he remembered. Someone was arguing loudly while someone else was laughing, and sounds coming from the TV, probably a video game, were blasting from speakers.

It was the same place, but at the same time it wasn’t.

Jazz didn’t draw attention to him when he picked her free hand and interlaced their fingers, she kept talking with Dick about something regarding her gymnastics class.

“Oh, hey!” Bernard, Tim’s boyfriend, was the first one that noticed them arrive. He stood up and walked towards Tim, extending his hand to shake Jazz’s. “Hello, I’m Bernard.”

She shook it, confused. “You are…?”

“Tim’s boyfriend.”

She finally made the connection, smiling. “Ah, I remember reading about you.”

“I hope not in those stupid tabloids.”

“That and when I looked up the Dyonysus cult.”

Bernard blushed deep red, quickly withdrawing his hand. “Listen—”

“Hey I’m not judging you. I wasn’t even looking for you,” she laughed. “I just did a research of all the occult stuff happening in Gotham before I moved here.”

“You must have been researching for weeks.” Blondie number two jumped over the sofa she was lounging on and shouldered Bernard out of the way. “Stephanie Brown.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jazz shook the offered hand. “Spoiler?” She asked for confirmation.

“Yup!” The woman beamed. “It’s so nice to have another girl around. Jason should have gotten braver and asked you out before.”

“Hey.”

Jazz looked uncomfortable for a second. “Things happen when they need to happen.” She looked at him, her eyes full of worry. “I— I haven’t told you yet, but I may have found out about you that night?”

This made him stop. “What?”

“Yeah.”

“And you still said yes?”

She blushed, looking away. “Yeah.”

He remembered her flirting back, how she blushed easier than usual, how she looked at him when he finally said the words. His speech had been pathetic and yet she had looked like he hung the moon and stars.

Had she known he was Red Hood then? And she said yes?

“You are weird.”

She chuckled, getting on the tip of her toes to kiss him on the cheek, the hand entwined with his squeezing for a second.

Someone clicked their tongue, the sound clearly displeased. Jazz jumped back to put a bit of space between them, suddenly very aware of their audience.

“Dami, be nice.” Dick said in a tired tone.

“I just don’t see what’s so interesting about her. Is a civilian who just happens to be involved in the supernatural.”

“She can see ghosts!”

“No way!” The last person to introduce themselves, Duke, stood up from where he had been sitting on the floor, leaving his controller aside. “You can see them too?”

“Ah, metahuman, right?” Jazz’s smile was wide. “Signal.”

“Yeah!”

“And you can see ghosts?”

“I can see… well, I call it ‘ghost vision’ but maybe it is not the same thing as you do,” he chuckled, quickly shaking her hand. “I can see auras and a bit on how they move in the past and in the future.”

“You can see the future???”

Aaaaand they lost her. Jazz’s eyes glowed with excitement, ditching Jason to follow Duke to the sofa and sit down to ask him a myriad of questions. She tried not to be too invasive, but he knew she would start asking about his childhood soon.

He sat down next to her, not acknowledging the others as they stood around either on the other sofas, the loveseat or on the floor. They were very obviously looking at him like he was an animal in a zoo, waiting, comparing.

This was exactly what sickened about coming to the Manor — they weren’t looking at him when he was there. Each had a mental image of “Jason Todd” and struggled to match it with the person he actually was. Or, in the case of Bruce, he was still trying to find the little boy that died.

The walls started to feel too narrow, the room too small for him, when he felt a soft touch on the back of his hand. He looked up, finding the smiling face of Jazz, his vision clearing around her.

“Right, Jay?”

He tried to mask his confusion. “About what.”

He saw the worry flash behind her eyes, but she quickly moved on. “About when I told you I saw your suit and I had to pretend I didn’t see anything.”

Oh right. When she drilled onto him about how to properly hide his stuff and how obvious he was.

“It’s not my fault you broke into a poor guy’s apartment late at night. You pervert.”

Her face went red immediately. “I— I didn’t—” She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not the scoundrel that likes to break in through the window, like other people.”

“And whose fault is it? You refuse to get that damn lock.”

“I will do it when I do it!”

It was adorable how frustrated she got with the teasing. He couldn’t stop the smile that stretched his lips.

He didn’t care who was watching anymore, or if the others were trying to walk on eggshells around him. Jazz reminded him that it was okay to just be and he knew she would be in his corner if it came to it.

---

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[thetorturerwrites]

I am currently fantasizing about kylo ren being my uncle(or dad? Idk idc) and fully raping me while i cry and his big cock splits me open.

[major-knighton]

RATING PIRATE FLAGS

By your friendly neighborhood pirate enthusiast. Remember the sources for most of these are often shoddy at best, we do with what we have.

1. EDWARD LOW

Spooky. Red. Makes your intent clear. Fitting for a man reputed for violence, sadism and a penchant for torture so strong he was compared to the Spanish Inquisition. 9/10 very Halloweeny.

2. EDWARD "BLACKBEARD" TEACH

Dramatic as fuck. Who hurt you, Ed? Also why is the devil so skinny. This design is a good idea but maybe a bit messy. 6/10 solid flag but makes me think of 2000s emo album covers.

3. STEDE BONNET

Meh. It tries to be symmetrical but fails because the dagger and heart aren't the same size. Trying too hard to be original but with no real creativity. 4/10 you bougie bitch.

4. BARTHOLOMEW ROBERTS

Very cool design. Always dubious of putting your own image on the flag, but overall the execution is good. You have the captain pointing at the hourglass to signify your time is up with Death by his side. 8/10 supervillain flag.

5. BARTHOLOMEW ROBERTS AGAIN

NOOO NO NO. This looks goofy as hell, Barty. The letters are supposed to stand for "A Bahamian's head" and "a Martinican's head" but putting letters on a flag is gauche. The flaming sword looks like a cactus. 2/10 You can't just draw yourself standing on the skulls of your enemies holding a flaming sword and expect people to take you seriously Bartholomew

6. SAMUEL BELLAMY

The classic. Can't go wrong with it. Points deducted bc a bunch of people used it and it's impossible to tell who started it. 5/10, neutral

7. OLIVIER "LA BUSE" LEVASSEUR

WHAT in the reverse slenderman is this shit? Get that out of my sight you French bastard. 100000/10 it lives in my nightmares.

8. HENRY EVERY

BLACK. IT'S CALLED THE BLACK FLAG ASSHOLE. Otherwise, it's a solid design, unique and simple. 6/10 unusual but not bad.

9. JEAN THOMAS DULEAIN

Just no. Too much stuff. Three skulls is nice but then you add all the other things and it becomes a confusing mess. Pick one thing and stick to it. 3/10 what the hell

10. JAQUOTTE DELAHAYE

We don't even know if she was real but what I do know is that this design fucks. Dancing with Death over a bleeding heart? Showing your prey that they're going to be bested by a lady? I stan. 11/10

[adhd-attention-deficit-dumbass]

PSA - If you are walking your dog without a leash in a shared public space you are kind of being a dick🐕

I had a period of severe anxiety especially when walking outside. Despite this I did my best to force myself to go outside once a day if only for a few minutes to improve my physical and mental well-being.

So there I am doing my little walk around the neighborhood already struggling to keep my anxiety in check, I’m almost home, relieved that the torture of going outside is almost over. I look behind me (as you do when you expect the world to pounce on you at any second) and I see a woman walking with a big dog unleashed. The dog is walking next to her no problem not looking agressive at all.

Now I’m not afraid of dogs in any way shape or form. We had a giant rottweiler growing up so I really have no reason to be afraid, but since I was already overwhelmed with anxiety this really freaked me out and I started walking faster, but so did the dog lady.

I actually don’t know if what happened next really happened the way I remember it, but I keep looking back and they keep getting closer. In that moment I remember a close family friend who got attacked and bit in the head on a walk by an unleashed dog. I think about the stitches she had to get, how she became so afraid of encountering dogs that she couldn’t take her own dog for walks any longer. Thee lady and the dog keep coming closer and I start panicking even though I’m fully convinced that this dog looks nowhere near even considering attacking. Next thing I know, I look back again and I see this big black dog running up behind me and just scream like I’ve never screamed before.

I step off the trail and sort of freeze. Embarrased but also afraid and I end up sitting down and sort of rocking myself trying to control my anxiety.

The dog lady comes over and tells me

”It’s okay, he’s friendly.”

She gives me this look like she doesn’t know what to think of me. I start profusely apologizing explaining that I just got really scared but that I’m actually fine. She doesn’t really buy it (understandably as I was starting to hyperventilate) She sort of half-heartedly asks if there’s anything she can do and I tell her to please put a leash on her dog. However rather than doing that she starts telling me over and over how friendly and safe the dog is and I just kinda shut her out just asking her to please leave. So she does. I sit in the grass for a good 10-15 minutes probably trying to calm myself down, feeling incredibly ashamed and guilty over having such a big emotional reaction which is of course not helping me calm down.

As I’m trying to muster the courage to get up and walk the remaining 2 minutes back home the lady returns without the dog and again asks if she can do something to help (which was actually really nice of her but in the moment it just made things worse as I felt pressured to ”feel better” for the sake of easing her discomfort) I kept telling her

”Thank you but no, I just need some time to calm down”

After going back and forth a bit she eventually leaves and after an additional 5-10 minutes I’m able to get back up, finish my walk and return to the safety of my home where I break down in tears. Ashamed of my reaction but also just so angry.

Listen, dog people, I get it. Your pup is probably super well trained and wouldn’t hurt a fly. I believe you, but just because you know they’re well behaved doesn’t mean other people know. Even if they know fear can be incredibly irrational and difficult to control. It should be obvious that in shared public spaces you should be respectful of others by leashing your dog. There are dedicated spaces for dogs to run about without a leash but on your daily walk where you have a high likelyhood of encountering lots of people is not that space. It’s unsafe not only for others but for your dog. Some people may attempt to attack your dog out of fear in order to defend themselves.

So please, for the safety and well-being of everyone, just leash your dog

[cartoon-buffoon]

Here's a Cartoon Cat' fanfic idk if I'll post on my AO3 so semi-exclusive story, btw this is inspired by my favorite stories of all time and a song. If you can somehow guess which story and which song you get a gold star for doing a goods.

TW for: gore and body horror

Reruns

Throughout all of time it had gone long undisturbed. What lurked behind a friendly cartoon cat's smile was a nothing more than sinister force that loved to indulge in the fear and havoc it could wreck. With powers beyond mortal comprehension it had no competition, it reigned supreme at the top of the food chain with not one to challenge it. Using these powers it was at first content with the simple disappearances that it would make, people here and there who went down dark alleys, abandoned crossroads, desolate malls, old warehouses, all of them suddenly vanishing without a trace. Picking people off, dragging them away screaming, and torturing them while it ripped them apart was fun but eventually that grew boring for the faux feline. It craved more, more and more which it consumed and caused chaos. Soon entire neighborhoods vanished, bloodstains and body parts laying in homes where the residents should be. From neighborhoods it advanced to entire towns, thousands gone just like that. Towns turned to cities, cities turned to counties, counties to states, states to regions, by the time an entire area suddenly went dead a mass hysteria infected the world. Mortals assumed the apocalypse was upon them and they'd be right, once its presence was known it need not hide anymore.

That was the fun part for it, once everybody knew of the Cartoon Cat as something more than just urban legend or myth it grew bold. Dashing through streets and populated areas it grew hands and arms out of its back in order to snatch man, women, child, animal, all that crossed its path in order to shove them down its gullet. At one point it even ceased to feed, it opted to just bite down on the skulls of its prey popping their heads sending skull fragments and blood across the pavement only to discard the rest of the bodies like trash. It didn't need food anymore, it merely killed for the sport and thrill of it, thrill of seeing the vain attempts to run or fight, it's absolute favorite was when it couldn't spot anybody out in the open. That's where the real game began. With the mortals getting smart they hid to the best of their abilities, trying not to be found and maybe outlast this entity posing as a black cat that made mincemeat out of the people they knew. One by one over the span of only a few years all their hopes and dreams were crushed though, each who hid was found with the Cartoon Cat spending extra time to make their deaths as painful as possible, a sort of reward for making the game just so entertaining. Like all things though the game had to come to an end, with no more mortals or animals the world fell into ruin. With the mortal's death soon the other cryptids who stalked the earth died out, without life to feed from they starved and perished. With no mortals left, no games to play, no fear to strike into people, the same too was happening to the Cartoon Cat. It was the very things it killed that kept it intact, its demented existence was kept alive by those who acknowledged its existence.

At the end of all there was naught to do but be consumed by the hollow rot and bloodlust that he used to consume the mortals.

It sat on where it originally called home, the abandoned mall which it used to lurk. With all humans gone nature had reclaimed it as well as most of the rest of earth. Vines creeped up the side and trees sprouted from the foundation, gazing at a setting sun the Cartoon Cat couldn't help but find irony in the one thing having the last laugh and outliving it was the very ground it walked on. The ground it smeared with the blood of billions. Alas it wasn't completely alone though, after all while most cryptids did rely on a food source there were creatures like it who either held a purpose or relied on belief to keep them alive. While not all of them were extra dimensional the mortals roughly classified those they deemed otherworldly or alien as "Patron Saints", while The Cartoon Cat itself was deprived of such a title for being "too evil" that didn't stop them from grouping it in with the rest. It was one of those who it was grouped in with which showed up as its time was nearing the end. The patron saint of guiding lost souls and a bearer of warning decided to pay the thing who ruined the lives of the mortals it tried to warn a visit, the Long Horse as it was aptly named. Its neverending infinite neck climbed up the building and it held its head up beside The Cartoon Cat, staring at it with its empty sockets.

This sure was a surprise to the cat, it was acquainted with the skull headed creature but it could hardly call it a friend. The Long Horse spent a good deal of its existence warning the mortals of The Cartoon Cat, but now there was no one left to warn. They were polar opposites but in the end it didn't really matter, nothing mattered considering they were both dying. The feline glanced at the creature out of the corner of its eye and saw this clear as day. Fractures and cracks had accumulated onto its skull, its spine that held up its skull looked brittle like the smallest bit of force could break the bone. The cat contemplated doing this, ending the thing that would ruin its meals here and now, but there would be no satisfaction in it, no fight to justify the kill, besides time would soon rapture them itself.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything"

The age old proverb of misery coming in 3s proved right. An uninvited guest made his presence known as he walked up to the two other cryptids, the individual in question being the patron saint of havoc and disaster. Negativity itself embodied into the form of a sharply dressed man with his face twisted upside down. His tone was smug and while the two showed signs of rot the man with the upside down face showed no signs of being affected, although his time on earth as it stood was too coming to an end. Despite this his tone was smug, seeing the two once powerful creatures weak before him made him absolutely giddy.

"Pardon my lateness I was checking up on the others, safe to say it's just us three left: the maggots lurking in underpasses all shriveled up and died, beak-face offed himself by ripping out his halo to open a gateway for his followers to only-he-knows, roady passed away in some animal graveyard, the big fella and his spawn huddled up before they faded, heck even that ol' siren's flesh rusted right off his bone" the man's twisted smile grew wider, the taste of their death's fresh on his tongue "oh you should of been there! I'm sure you would of loved to see it"

The Cartoon Cat remained silent, still staring out at the sunset. It didn't have words to spare, certainly none to that upside down headed bottom feeding leech.

This silence provoked the man to take another step forward, his shoes clacking against the mall's roof "oh come on, do you really got nothing for me smiley? Don't tell me you're scared of death now" the man's eyes fixated on the cat, trying to garner any sort of reaction as he spoke "I guess that's why they call you a pussycat for a reason"

If it was a reaction the man wanted it would be a reaction he would get. Even in its rotting state the Cartoon Cat held enough power to wipe that smile off the man's face. Turning to face him it bared stained teeth, its gums leaking blood from its maw.

It was at this point the Long Horse intervened, stretching in-between the two it acted as a barrier as both of its sockets on the side of its skull bore into the two cryptids.

"Oh come on skelly, don't you see this entire thing is his fault, what's he got to cry over?" The man with the upside down face brought a hand up to his mouth, trying to cover his mouth as he snickered "oh it just drives me WILD how much I can feel your pity for smiley over there! Even as you're about to die you hold no anger or rage towards the very thing that brought us all to our doom, it's comical really..."

The Cartoon Cat's flesh began to droop off its form as it stood and turned to face the man with his face upside down. The smell of burnt rubber filled the air and it hunched over, ready to strike at the patron saint who was trying to get a last meal out of both their emotions.

"Look at you" The man continued "Standing there with your sickly looking self, I do got to hand it to you though, I'm surprised your body hasn't caved in on itself yet, you using the last bit of power you have to stay awake?"

The Long Horse extended itself further into the air, its spine creaking and cracking in a way no bone should. Although it remained silent a strong gust of wind blew across the area making the man's tie flutter. It was a warning.

"hehehe...." The warning was met with laughter, the man was absolutely reveling in the moment and ignored Long Horse, looking over across towards the decaying cryptid "I thought you were stronger than this, are you really having the pacifist stand up for you? This is a new low for you truly-"

The wind picked up, the breeze growing stronger with each word the man said.

"Maybe if you used your brain instead of your stomach you'd realize this would be the end goal of your little massacre, but you didn't ever think of that did you? Instead all you thought about was satisfying that unquenchable thirst to kill but now you left yourself, and everyone high and dry, a desert without an oasis"

Gusts of air tried to drown out what the man with the upside down face was saying, but he knew all too well the cat could hear him. He continued, his tone more condescending by the second.

"Acting as if you deserve anything else other than this, you've reaped what you've sowed and that's the souls of all you saw, I may be throwing stones in a glass house here yet it takes one to know one which is why I can safely say you're nothing but a sad little speck from the void who wanted to hide behind some fake face in order to turn this world into your little playground"

"ENOUGH"

The Long Horse's voice echoed throughout the air, traveling on the wind as it fell onto the man and cat's ears. The deep, hoarse tone made the mall shake and the man go silent, although a pacifist and a creature of benevolence it had grown fed up with the mockery. What came around went around, karma physically manifesting as blood the man puked up.

Falling to his knees the man spoke through grit teeth, his smile morphing into a scowl "I see the truth isn't very welcome here, fine then" he stood up and fixed his tie "I'll be off now since I'm clearly unwanted, I hope that little stunt of yours was worth it skelly seeing as you don't got much life left in you" walking away the man couldn't help but get the last laugh in, taking a quick glance back at the rotting feline he uttered his words of departure "after everything is said and done I look forward to seeing you in the abyss... if we don't forget ourselves that is, until next time Cartoon Cat". The man's words were laced with venom, mocking the name that the cryptid chose for itself.

With that he was gone, vanishing into thin air leaving the only other two cryptids alive behind.

The two soon becoming one, The Long Horse's borrowed time was all spent up hurting the man with the upside down face. The cracks on it deepened and its spine turned to dust, its skull landing right in the hands of the Cartoon Cat.

The Cartoon Cat stared at the patron saint that lay in its palms, the horse's body and connection to the earth severed. It didn't know whether the creature was still alive or if the skull was merely the remains of that wish used to plague it, either way it couldn't help but embrace the skull. The cat's body was and time was coming to an end, the form it took destabilizing. Ovular pupils struggled to maintain their shape, they dilated growing wider and wider until the sclera was consumed by the pupil, eyes now pure white. With blurred vision the Cartoon Cat couldn't see the body it had made for itself, but maybe that was for the better because it sure could feel it. Blood and pus oozed out of every orifice on its body, mouth, eyes, even the pores that lined its body soon secreted a foul smelling combination of liquid that signified its decay. The skin it had started to sag off molded bones, its face particularly coming undone revealing the hideous visage of what truly lurked behind the mask. Not one would be left to view it though, instead all that there would be was silence. While it still had time left and the sounds of death dripped off his form it's mind began to ponder what it could of done differently.

It was too late now but it still wondered out of curiosity, perhaps the curiosity could have saved it if it ever considered the different options. Maybe it could have existed as a purely fear based entity, instead of downright killing mortals it could have given them a good scare, feed off that fear. Another idea was instead of killing humans directly it could have taken a page of that leech's book and be an omen that would cause disasters, toppling over skyscrapers or collapsing bridges, killing people that way. Maybe malice wasn't the road, maybe it could have avoided its current predicament if it was a bit more kind to the mortals it so eagerly killed. It could have been one of the few cryptids revered as something good, a savior to humanity, a patron saint which lived up to its name. Helping mortals advance, defending them against other entities that wished to feed off them. It could have gained just as much if not more attention by being kind to the mortals, instead of latching onto their nostalgia and using its form to harm it could have been a proper cartoon cat using their positive emotions rather than the negative ones to maintain on earth. All those ideas passed through its mind but it couldn't help but feel that no matter what it did the ending would be the same, even if given a second chance to repent it's body would still be melting into a putrid pile of meat. As its senses dulled and it could no longer feel the Long Horse's skull in its hands it knew death had come for it, or at least for its body that it inhabited.

Death or the death of its body was cold, not frigid but cold nonetheless, the feeling was almost familiar in a way. Despite its body finally rotting and its eyes closing for what would be the final time somehow it maintained its senses. It could still smell, hear, see, feel, taste, but all of them were numbed to the point it couldn't pick up on anything exact. What it could see though was an ever expanding black that stretched out for miles, a complete and utter void with nothing but itself alone in it, alone with a deafening silence. It wondered if this is truly where it came from, it had been so many years since it fashioned that form for itself that it had forgotten what the abyss was like, was this where it originated from? It doubted it strongly, although an abyss would be an apt description of what it saw it knew whatever it was in wasn't that. It still clung onto the memories of who it was instead of having all that stripped away, it was in a weird in-between. A limbo, a line where neither death nor life treaded, where time meant nothing and space was but a mere concept. Of course the only other thing was the silence, the silence which allowed it to be alone with its thoughts for what would be an eternity.

Or at least, that's what it assumed.

No, by some miracle it seemed this wouldn't be all that existence had in store for it. A voice broke through the silence and drew its attention, what would have been death was interrupted by the unsure words of man. A man who sounded confused and scared, an all to mortal emotion.

"Hello? Anybody here?"

Its eyes opened back up to find not its body rotten and diseased but instead perfectly intact. Yellow eyes glowed in the dark allowing it to see everything in clear view, the scenery was that of its mall before nature took over, before its global massacre. Down the hall shined what one could only assume was a flashlight of someone intruding on the space it took shelter in. It didn't know how, why, but it nonetheless knew that in some way it was brought back to either before its giant mistake or to a new world entirely. That didn't matter though, what mattered was doing something different this time around. Standing up and letting its long body graze the ceiling it emerged from its corner and towards the mortal. All those ideas that had ran through its head while it died were quickly forgotten, one idea prevailing among them.

"Huh? What's that?"

A grin formed across its face going from ear to ear. The end would be the same now matter what it did, so as it stepped into the light it knew what it would do instead.

"Wha-... What the fuck..."

With a newfound appreciation for the mortals it hunted it would take time this run around. After all this run wouldn't be that different, bones would break, skin ripped clean off, tears of those who begged for mercy would fall on the ground.

"Oh god... OH GOD!"

As it lunged forward ready to make the mortal suffer it knew the exact process this time around. It would savor each and every kill it came across, prolonging and allowing the mortals to eventually kill themselves off while it would take a singular one each time it pleased, drawing out their suffering as much as possible. It would savor the kill instead of letting greed force its hand to slaughter everything. After all, it was just one big rerun…

A rerun of its favorite episode.