#homeless isn’t a crime

[cyarsk52-20]

Texas governor Gregg A-Butt abbott & republicans: “We have to solve the mental health issue” Also, Greg Abbott, republicans, Mayor Adams, and Governor Hochul: it’s perfectly fine choke to death anyone with a mental health issue

Texas and New York: y’all could had beto O’Rourke, tish james and Maya Wiley respectively.

[philsmeatylegss]

Yesterday, in NYC, a man lit a woman, who was sleeping in a subway car, on fire until she died. So the man arrested will be charged with terrorism as well as murder, correct? His attack was also threatening the lives of other homeless people (which it is assumed she was so). Surely he will also be charged with terrorism for scaring those people, right?

Or is it only terrorism when rich people are threatened?

Also, surely the fact the person who did this being an undocumented immigrant won’t be mentioned in every single news article about it, right? A woman was brutally murdered. Who gives a shit where the perpetrator is from, all we should care is that he is detained and punished.

Right?

We all agreed to this, right?

Or does race and immigration status only matter when a non-white and or undocumented immigrant commits a crime?

Same place, same police.

And I think we all know how differently this murder will be treated. And why.

[wonderjanga]

Billy’s Homelessness

Being a homeless kid has its perks, Billy supposes. He’s picked up tips and tricks from other kids and even adults during his time. It’s practically second nature to him at this point. Only thing is, the fact that it’s second nature in the first place is what can come back to bite him in the future.

Like lock picking. He’s good at it, and it’s not something he’s particularly proud of, but it’s helped him when he’s needed it most. He’s gotten shelter from blizzards, sleet, and rain with this skill. That’s why when Billy, Flash, GL, and Supes got locked in an all yellow room with red sun lamps and a locked door.

Supes, GL, and Flash: *all discussing how to get out* Marvel: *leans down in front of the keyhole of the door*

Supes: “Alright Flash, vibrate through the door-”

Marvel: “Done!” *opens door*

*silence*

GL: “How’d you do that?”

Marvel: “I picked the lock.” *walks out and immediately gets shot in the face by one of the guards*

Then there’s pickpocketing. He’s also unfortunately good at this. Freddy says he’s better though. Billy isn’t about to make a contest out of it. Batman found out about this particular talent when both him and Billy went undercover for a mission to uncover the scheme of some foreign politician.

Batman: *as Bruce Wayne* “That’s the man.” *subtly gestures to him*

Marvel: “Him? Okay… What do you wanna do?”

Batman: “First, we need to properly identify-”

Marvel: “Oh, okay.” *walks over to the man, passes him, then comes back to Bruce* “Here.” *places the man’s wallet in Bruce’s hand*

Batman: “…that he was involved in the crimes.”

Marvel: “Oh.”

*silence*

Batman: *opens the wallet anyways and starts looking through it*

Marvel: “Do you want me to put it back?”

Batman: *puts one finger up to Marvel’s face while he continues looking through the wallet*

Marvel: *deflates slightly* “Oh, okay.”

Batman: *pulls out a clue from the wallet* “Put this back, chum.”

Marvel: *scurries off to put the wallet back*

Bruce then heavily lamented how Marvel knew how to pickpocket so well. Cause the thing is, Marvel’s like six feet tall. (Had to make him a little shorter guys. My bad.) A man like that had no business doing that so well in a bright red sweater and yellow hat.

Then, there’s the avoiding cops. He rarely sticks around for them. He does not mess with them. He’s had too many bad experiences as Billy for it to translate well to Marvel. Whenever one tries to talk to him, he’ll say the bare minimum as politely as he can and fly off. Sometimes, if he knows it’s a cop who’s harsher on the homeless than most, he’ll act polite(passive aggressive) and then give them a nice, firm(crushing) handshake. One such incident was when a cop asked for a photo:

Cop A and Marvel: *posing for a photo by shaking hands*

Marvel: *smiling at the camera, his grip tightening on the hand*

Cop A: *awkward laugh* “That’s a tight grip you got there, Captain.”

Marvel: *lightens his grip, looking down to Cop A’s name tag: Richard* (This isn’t Nightwing guys) “My bad, dick.”

Cop A: “Excuse me?”

Marvel: “Oh no no no, not like “dick,” Dick.” *grip tightens again* “Not like some spineless, lowlife piece of shit from the bottom of my boot that gets scraped off onto a bigger pile of shit, kind of dick.” *smiles the whole time as he speaks* “No, like your name, officer, Dick.”

Cop A: “I prefer Richard.”

Cop B: *takes photo*

Also, anybody who gets that reference gets a kiss. Man or woman. It doesn’t matter. I don’t make the rules. By the way, someone definitely recorded that entire interaction and #passiveaggressivecap ended up trending on twitter.

Then, there’s the time Supes came over to Fawcett to hang out. They were chilling on a rooftop talking when down below they both saw a teenager steal food from a seller.

Supes: *doesn’t see Marvel move* “Aren’t you gonna stop that kid?”

Marvel: “Uh… no. He’s homeless. He clearly needs it more than we do.”

Supes: *blinks rapidly but then remembers he’s not in Metropolis and can’t really tell Marvel how to run his city* “Okay then.”

[gaywineauntsstuff]

See one of my favorite things about fanon is that Dick is like a normal dude outside of nightwing like genuinely he’s normal person who isn’t that extreme canonically. He loves his family but he needs space with them and doesn’t want to be a carbon copy of his father.

He follows Bruce is moral compass while also being more lenient on some crimes. He canonically values life and protecting the sanctity over it than actually stopping crime and has a very strong moral compass that exceeds “well it’s the law”. Dick canonically thinks that Corrupt police officials are worse than criminals and became a cop to weed them out the same way he did the mob. And has bad blood with the BPD despite working for them.

He has genuine reservations about trusting Jason for obvious reasons even if you don’t like Dicks run as Batman where Jason was flat out the worst or like stealing the Nightwing suit in New York in brothers and blood. While still being able to work with and like him.

He is supportive of Tim while still being frustrated at taking on more work bc he knows Tim does too much and will need help.

He loves Damian but steps away from that relationship because unlike Bruce at his age he’s emotionally mature enough to realize he cannot be a parent for the kid. A role model sure! A big sibling, yeah. But not a parent.

He didn’t want Steph as spoiler, Robin or batgirl bc she wasn’t well trained but neither did literally anyone else. Once she and him started working together they had a decent relationship.

Dick and Cass have a strong relationship and he helped Babs with her when Bruce was being an asshole while still not stepping into a parent role bc he’s in his mid 20s and not going to do that actually.

And Dick believes Duke is going to become a big leader in the hero world and sees his potential despite not agreeing with the we are Robin thing.

And the fanon goes 1 of 3 ways

he’s fully uninvolved, doesn’t like the bats, has cut them off after trying to send Tim to Arkham, and abusing/ mistreating or co-signing the mistreatment of Jason. All his relationships with everyone except Damian have been erased. He ruined Tim’s trust, hated young!jason, has never spoken to Steph or duke and Cass doesn’t like him because she’s on babs side or in Hong Kong.

Or

Literally Bruce Wayne’s lapdog, says yes to everything with the worst case of battered women’s syndrome you’ve ever seen. Jason must stand up for him and protect him from the big bad bat/ the bats cut him off aswell after abandoning the bat movement (more rare but I’ve seen it). He doesn’t have critical thinking and his morals are identical to Batman’s and he refuses to question them. Will call the police on a homeless man stealing food bc it’s illegal. And has never tried to rehabilitate anyone including his friends, abandoned Roy and Kory bc of moral differences. He’s still a cop and doesn’t understand the nuance that Jason, Tim, Steph and Duke do.

Or

Dumb himbo, doesn’t know nothing except smile and nod. Pretty face, no brain. Has had one thought and it’s the fact he misses his siblings and needs his cereal oh wait was that two thoughts? He forgot how to count lmao. Babs or Tim will roll their eyes and do stuff for him bc he’s so dumb and sweet like a puppy who has had a lobotomy. :( doesn’t even have a college degree dumb silly teehee. Worst liar you’ve ever met everyone can see right through him hehe. He’s loves Bruce and calls him Dad 24/7 and uses nicknames for everyone.

And like it’s total flanderization

He has some of these traits sure, (more rigid moral compass, more willing to work with other heroes and delegate though this one literally only became a thing during Tom kings run and maybe a little bit after Donna died, in the current canon he went to Uni for business and dropped out, he’s not as good on the tech side as oracle)

But they’re just so exaggerated and I firmly believe it’s bc the rest of the bats are so extra. Like Tim trying to clone his dead bestie 99 times.

Jason goodness gracious I’ve been bamboozled let me try and kill the penguin on live tv

Damian my mother literally tore my spine out

. Duke let’s start a cult that’s something that isn’t dumb and won’t get us murdered.

And Dick is just there like… yeah fuck okay.

Like he’s still unhinged even for a superhero but he’s just objectively more hinged than all of his siblings like you’re telling me if TIM got the talon ancestry storyline shit wouldn’t have hit the fan??? The mother fucker who at age like 13 broke in Nightwing and starfire’s house, memorized all their schedules bc he’s the most insane stalker you’ve ever met. You’re lying and we both know it.

And everyone thinks their fave is the sane won and you are all just wrong I fear. I have already slandered Tim so I’ll do the rest for funsies

“Oh babs is the only sane one”

Bby Barbara is such a stalker with a need for control someone stole her tech and turned Gotham into a police state. If she decided that she wanted to go dictator she has a WHOLE setup for it. She’s also unhinged

“Jason just needs to get away from the bats then he’s the only sane one who the others go to for protection”

Yall Jason’s 2 biggest teams were

An Amazon, and a kryptonian

An arrow and an alien (also some times an Amazon)

So the league big three knock off and a titans knock off

He has also slept with his dad’s ex and 2 of his brother’s exes. Let’s not pretend that he’s being dragged back into the bat family, bro never left.

He wears a bat on his chest

He has a helmet with explosives in it… when he died in an explosion and fought with a crowbar when it was one of the major reasons he died. Let’s not talk about his whole thing with scarlet but the Morrison run had some weird characterization.

“Damian-“ no actually you can’t even start with Mr let’s go to Lazarus island. Let me adopt a giant bat monster bc my abusive childhood means I slaughtered his entire race. No actually I will not allow it. The fucker is unhinged and I love him.

“Steph” - you know what she is also my fave so everything she has ever done is justified and she has the best batgirl run and also her and Damian are hilarious. (She’s also the best female bat hands down I prefer her to both Cass and Babs for so many reasons I will not get into)

In summary this isn’t actually a criticism I find it hilarious plz keep going my darling fanon fanfic writers

[allfortheslay25]

Bestie, your brain 👌👌👌 i love all of your aftg au's, mermaid and omegaverse especially. Any headcanons or other things you wish people would ask but haven't/generally be willing to share? Hope you're doing well 💜

Another au from the secret stash!

All for the Cult

I hid this one cuz I’m afraid it’d be controversial and up until this week, I hadn’t even shared it with my sister

I actually am writing a fic for it but the fic will not be published until it is completed. I don’t want to risk leaving it in the public on a hiatus so it’s safe with me until I can finish all the chapters

Basically instead of exy as the base of AFTG, it’s bastardized religion. Exy technically exists but instead of Tetsuji continuing Kayleigh and his pet project, he turns to forming a cult. Exy ends up being a dying sport no one really cares about unless it’s Kevin Day who still plays on the side of his true passion, communing with God.

Neil was a human sacrifice raised for slaughter until his mom took him and ran. Homeless and with no way out, Neil joins Wymack’s staff at his wayward home/church where junkies and sob stories go for their last second chance. No one actually has to pray to god or believe in the Bible’s teachings to work there as it is not a standard church and more like a theater than anything

The more kids Wymack recruits, the longer he gets to keep his church and program at the school

(Also side note but I was doing the comic of andreil but forgot my house looks like a Catholic Church threw up in it so I got awkward and couldn’t finish it)(oh and my sister renamed it all for the debauchery cuz she got to read the altar scene lol)

Key points and fun facts of this au:

- the Ravens are a cult cult instead of a sports cult

- Riko is obsessed with his holy trinity (perfect court)

- The Moriyamas are still a crime unit but Nathan is sort of a satanist on the side (Would like to say mass majority of satanists are not evil or bad, Nathan just is)

- Neil was born as a sacrifice. Mary took him and ran tho before the ritual

- The Foxes are ppl from broken pasts who work at Wymack’s church for scholarship/community service.

- Wymack’s church isn’t a standard catholic kind. He has his own unique spin on it so even those who aren’t religious can still work there. Campus students attend the services to watch the plays, hear the readings, listen to the choir, and some even use the confession box. Some even go to donate as the Foxes are connected to a bunch of charities

- Andrew is not a real priest. The cousins were apprentices for Luther for a couple years to get him off their backs. Because of his experience and eidetic memory, Wymack has Andrew do scripture readings and other tasks. In return, Andrew gets to be off the meds the entire time of mass

- the Foxes attend classes and work shifts at the church in their free time. If they flunk classes or skip church, their scholarship is revoked

- all of the Foxes live in the upstairs rooms above the church

- When Andrew first met Luther, Luther promised to take care of the Cass situation as long as Andrew gave God a try. Andrew only agreed to read the Bible and took Nicky’s since the Hemmicks were worried he’d vandalize a new one. Andrew thought it was a good read but mostly was humored by all of Nicky’s annotations

- Andrew doesn’t care about religion enough to hate it so he’s fine chilling around and hearing the preaching

- When Neil goes to the nest, he agrees to spend those weeks in Riko’s church where he’s ofc tortured. Riko no longer has the desire to sacrifice Neil as long as Neil joins his cult

- Renee holds a Bible study on Sunday evenings and Saturdays so weekends are Andrews days off

- Lots of their readings are done performatively with music, spoken word poetry, or with their own unique spins/translations of the text. (Every mass always starts with a disclaimer that what is being said/shown is their interpretation and not to be taken as the honest god given truth)

- whenever they raise enough money or supplies, the foxes celebrate by getting wasted; Wymack’s treat

- Betsy is still there for mandatory therapy sessions since the point of the scholarship is to rehabilitate troubled youth

- Abby is Wymack’s assistant but she also is a part time nurse

[jaxon-exe]

…. More dp x dc because brain rot

So Danny ends up homeless in Gotham after a revival to his parents gone wrong and is trying his best to stay out of the bats way. Unfortunately the kid has the worst luck and an even worst hero complex so when he stumbles across a mugging he can’t help but jump in.

It’s only after he K.O.ed the mugger that he looking up and saw the civilian he saved looking at him and in a split second of panic just faded from visibility. I mean who’s gonna believe the guy if he says his rescuer just fu/king upped and vanished.

It worked out tho. So much in fact that when Danny once again found himself jumping in to trouble before he can think he just decides to disappear after.

This happens so much that people start to take notice and the conclusion they come to? A ghost. More specifically a 13-14 y/o ghost with black hair and blue eyes. More specifically the ghost of the black haired, blue eyed, Wayne kid that died when he was 13. 

Yep! Gotham comes to the conclusion that Jason Todd has come back as a ghost to protect the streets of Gotham!!

Now obviously this gets to Bruce who knows this isn’t the case because Jason is over in crime alleys right now hopefully not going on a murder spree again so he’s gotta find out who this is and preferably before Jason hears about this.

[cryinggirlnamedhelen]

Jobs I think the Phantom Troupe would have in the modern day if they weren’t crazy and clinically insane!!! (Love them for that though)

———

Chrollo - Actor. The guy is canonically a theater kid, literally what else do you expect from him?

Runner ups: CEO, writer

———

Nobunaga - Model. His hair is literally perfect, he would 100% model for some sort of hair care company.

Runner ups: TikToker (prolly shows off his sword or something. no, not that sort of sword, you dirty minded weirdo.), wanders around from job to job

———

Feitan - Ghost Hunter. Only did it because he found it funny, plus he isn’t scared of these supernatural things.

Runner ups: Haunted House worker, crime investigator

———

Machi - Seamstress. Her whole Nen ability is literally centered around sewing, and she seems good at it too.

Runner ups: Nurse, Receptionist

———

Hisoka - Circus clown. Need I say more?

Runner ups: entertainer (actor, singer), model

———

Phinks - Gym Teacher. He’s that one gym teacher who literally no one hates and actually played good music.

Runner ups: gym trainer, boxer

———

Shalnark - Hacker + Video Game Creator. This guy is literally obsessed with electronics, be so fr here.

Runner ups: Customer Service Job, manager of some random Target in the middle of nowhere

———

Franklin - Firearms Instructor. He literally has a Nen ability dedicated to firearms, he is DEVOTED😭

Runner ups: jobless, wanders from job to job

———

Shizuku - Model. Considering how far of lengths the Mobage Card Game + anime + Togashi go just to show off Shizuku’s body, there’s no other explanation.

Runner ups: student, McDonald’s Drive Thru worker

———

Pakunoda - Makeup + Manicure artist. She works independently and helps girls get ready for prom/homecoming/graduation/parties.

Runner ups: model, waitress

———

Bonolenov - Museum Guide. Wants to honor the history of other cultures just like how he honors his own.

Runner ups: jobless, homeless

———

Uvogin - Wrestler. Literally what else would he be? With that 8’6 ass body, it’s basically the only option.

Runner ups: boxer, basketball player

———

Kortopi: a mop idk

[alwaysmoncheri]

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you and jason have a complicated relationship, but when you find yourself in a troubling situation, jason just happens to be your emergency contact

𝐜𝐰: female!reader, minimal swearing, sexual assault, cat calling, assault, violence, 1.5k, jason todd x reader

<3

midnights in gotham city smell distinctly of blood. the dark streets are littered with corpses of victims who stain the rubble red. crime is high and murder remains rampant among the homeless people living on the streets. you know walking home alone at this hour alongside the hundreds of criminals that hide in the shadows is a terrible idea. but your shift at the library ran late tonight and you had no other means of transportation, hence the reason why you find yourself alone in a dark alley far from the comfort and safety of your apartment.

the faint footsteps of desperate strangers lurk behind you, the sound echoes through the night, and your skin crawls with anticipation of what’s to follow. nothing good comes from the situation that you’ve found yourself in and that’s what brings you to pull out your phone and tap on the first contact that pops up on your screen.

jason.

your relationship with jason is complicated. like most things in your life you suppose. but jason is the only one who’s almost always by your side. maybe that’s part of what possessed you to click on his name on your phone and bring it up to your ear with trembling fingers.

“hey, sweet—”

“jason, I think i’m being followed.” you breathe out quickly and you don't dare to peek so much as a glance behind you.

“shit. hang on, babe. just—”

jason's voice, laced with urgency, cuts through the tense night as the echo of your footsteps intensifies. the sounds of the desolate alley amplify, creating an eerie symphony of fear and impending danger.

“i’m so scared, jay,” your shaky voice reaches jason, carrying the weight of dread as if it were a tangible thing. in response, jason's voice becomes a soothing anchor, his words a balm to your frayed nerves.

“hey, it’s okay, sweetheart. tell me where you are,” jason's voice, steady and reassuring, breaks through the chaos. your breath catches as you fumble to provide your location, the darkness of the alley making every detail obscure.

“I don’t know, I think in an alley near the corner of 5th and main. I thought it would be quicker. jason, please hurry,” desperation seeps into your words, painting a vivid picture of the peril you find yourself in.

“just hang on, i’m on my way,” jason's promise becomes a lifeline, a lifeline you desperately clutch onto. the plea, "don’t hang up, please don’t hang up," echoes through the phone, the fear of losing that connection palpable.

“I won’t, honey. just keep telling me what’s going on, okay?” jason's voice is a steady stream of reassurance, a counterpoint to the mounting chaos.

your breath quickens as you confess, "there’s multiple, jay."

“multiple what? sweetheart, talk to me,” jason's concern deepens, the gravity of the situation reflected in the intensity of his inquiry.

“people, there’s multiple people. they’re still following me, and I can’t lose them,” your voice quivers, painting a chilling image of the shadows closing in.

“i’m almost there, okay? just hang on a little longer, can you do that for me?” jason’s words are a beacon of hope, urging you to endure the storm just a little while longer.

“they’re getting closer. shit,” panic infuses your voice as the chase intensifies. jason senses the urgency, a quiet determination in his response.

the abrupt cut-off and your distressed cry for help and jason’s call to you, "y/n!?" mark the harrowing turn. the phone, a lifeline moments ago, is silenced by a crushing foot, an audible confirmation of the looming threat.

“looks like your boyfriend isn’t going to make it, gorgeous,” a sinister voice taunts, the malevolence palpable in the dimly lit alley. the struggle intensifies, and your defiant words ring through the night.

“get off of me, you creep!” your voice is a mix of fear and defiance, a visceral response to the encroaching menace.

“watch your tone, sweetie,” a chilling warning hangs in the air as they pin you down. the confrontation takes a dark turn as you spit in their faces, a desperate act of resistance.

“such a shame that’s what you’re using such a pretty mouth for,” a sinister chuckle underscores the dehumanizing intent, leaving a bitter taste in the tense air.

“that’s alright, we don’t want you for your mouth anyway,” a chilling statement, a precursor to unspeakable horrors, hangs over the alley.

in the clash of desperation and violence, the air changes as jason, your vigilante savior, descends upon the scene like a guardian angel emerging from the shadows. the sounds of a fierce struggle ensue, muffled grunts and the scuff of boots on concrete. with a swift, powerful intervention, the men are knocked out and when they loosen their grip you sink to the ground with defeat and despair. you don’t even notice you’re crying until jason gently prys your hands from your face and rubs your tears away with the rough thumb of his leather glove

then, in one swift motion, jason's strong, reassuring arms envelop you, pulling you into an embrace that feels like sanctuary. relief washes over you, grounding you in the reality of his protective presence.

“it's okay, sweetheart. you're safe now,” jason's voice, previously a lifeline over the phone, now echoes directly into your ear, a soothing melody that erases the lingering echoes of fear. his words are a healing balm, mending the wounds of terror inflicted upon your psyche.

the dimly lit alley transforms from a nightmare into a haven under the watchful gaze of your friend. the tension in your shoulders eases, and the erratic beat of your heart gradually steadies as you bask in the warmth of his reassuring touch.

“i've got you, y/n. you're safe,” jason whispers, the warmth of his breath against your ear a soothing balm to the wounds inflicted by fear. the resonance of those words sinking deep into the recesses of your shaken soul. his presence is a shield against the haunting memories of the alley, a reassurance that the nightmare is over.

the shattered phone lies forgotten, a casualty of the struggle, as jason continues to shield you from the residual fear. he tilts your chin up gently, meeting your eyes with an unwavering gaze that speaks volumes of his commitment and protective instinct.

“let's get you home,” jason murmurs, his fingers tenderly brushing away a stray strand of hair from your face. together, you navigate the now-quiet alley, the looming threat replaced by the solid ground beneath your feet and the reassuring touch of the person who faced the darkness on your behalf.

as you approach the familiar comfort of your apartment, jason's protective hold lingers. “are you okay?” he asks, his voice a gentle murmur that eases the residual tension in your body. you nod against his chest, words escaping you as relief and gratitude flood your senses.

the apartment door closes with a muffled thud, shutting out the ominous whispers of the night. jason, ever watchful, guides you towards the bathroom. the soft hum of the overhead light bathes the space in a gentle glow, revealing the porcelain sink and mirror.

you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror – disheveled, eyes wide with residual fear. without a word, jason turns on the faucet, letting the water flow until it reaches a soothing warmth. his fingers graze yours, urging you to lean over the sink.

the splashing water echoes in the small room as jason's hands cup and scoop, the liquid cascading over your face. the feel of his fingers against your skin is both tender and firm, each touch a cleansing ritual that washes away the remnants of the night.

you glance up into the mirror, meeting jason's eyes. there's an unspoken understanding as his hands move methodically, the cool water providing a refreshing contrast to the heated intensity of the ordeal. the sensation is grounding, a simple act of care that transcends words.

as you straighten up, a vulnerability lingers in your gaze. you turn off the faucet, and the silence hangs in the air. the wet droplets cling to your skin, a tangible reminder of the shared intimacy in this simple act of cleansing. jason's hands linger on your face, his fingers tracing a silent promise. the air in the bathroom holds a charged stillness, the transition from fear to intimacy palpable.

the urgency of the night lingers in your eyes. “stay, jason, please,” the plea escapes your lips, a raw, desperate plea that echoes in the confined space of the bathroom. his gaze meets yours, and for a moment, the weight of the world seems to shift.

there's a pause, a heartbeat suspended in time, before jason's expression softens. his agreement is wordless, a nod that carries the promise of a shared refuge in the night.

the journey from the bathroom to the bedroom is taken in tandem, the touch of his hand on the small of your back a grounding force. the mattress welcomes you both, and the room is immersed in the soft glow of bedside lamps. the night unfolds with shared breaths and jason's hand finding yours.

“thank you.” you whisper to him under the sheets, the warmth of his body next to you radiating into your own, “thank you for protecting me.”

“i’ll always protect you, sweetheart.”

masterlist . jason todd masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

alwaysmoncheri © �� all rights reserved. please do not repost/translate/copy any of my work.

[puppetmaster13u]

Prompt 119

Another divine twitch chat Au? Another divine twitch chat Au. With a bit of a twist. 

Billy would like to say it is in fact not his fault. It’s really not. Who hits someone with magic they obviously don’t know how to use? Well okay maybe he had done that before, but it’s not like he ever did it around other people where they could get hit! 

But someone was an idiot and now he’s here, as his normal ten-year old self kicking his legs while sitting in the Watchtower as the others argued. Apparently the League thinks he’s been de-aged, which is good as his secret isn’t out. 

The uh, issue is that something about the spell might have um, partially manifested the gods- or as he called them the Mediterranean Magic Men, if only because of how annoyed it made Zeus. Now everyone can see the chat that’s usually only visible to him and apparently it’s concerning. 

He doesn’t see how it’s an issue, Zeus has been silenced for the next hour and Hercules has been dying of laughter for the last three. Oh, wait, it might be from Mercury’s constant attempted flirting with Flash. …Or the fact they’re trying to convince him to commit a crime and he’s honestly down for doing so seeing as he’s a homeless ten year old who is down for getting clairvoyance and super speed for the next thirty minutes in exchange…

[jesncin]

I really hope this doesn’t come across as rude, but why did you decide to make Lex Luthor, whose motivation is basically racism and xenophobia from my understanding, a person of color? This isn’t like, a criticism, more just, I really like your JL remix stuff and you usually have cool reasons for the stuff you change, so I was surprised by this one

I understand the curiosity! But I have to point out that "you usually have cool reasons for the stuff you change, so I was surprised by this one" made me laugh, haha. Long answer coming because I have a lot of feelings- but the point in the very end is worth it, trust me.

So for one, Lex is Afro-Greek in my version. This comes from the popular headcanon that STAS/DCAU Lex is Black (and his design is based on a Greek man). His character design, skin tone, and Clancy Brown's enigmatic performance became unintentional perceived representation for Black fans (and even DC writers). And now in the Harley Quinn show, that's become canonized! For why they like it, that's not my place to say as a non-Black person- so I listen!

I don't agree that Lex's motivation is "basically racism and xenophobia"- his themes are much broader than that. It's the desire to be the Man of Tomorrow, his jealousy of Superman, the way his intellect alone is a match against Superman's strength. Sometimes that jealousy is expressed through bigotry, but it's all a means to an end for Lex. My approach is: if Lex being Black is something we want to integrate more into his character, what opportunities does that open up narratively? Because there's rich potential for him and the characters connected to him.

When discussing MAWS I talk a lot about how when you're writing a bigoted marginalized character, there needs to be specifity with where that internalized bigotry is coming from. So a change like that for Lex Luthor could, for example; discuss how privileges like wealth can assimilate otherwise marginalized people into the kind of power that harms others in their community.

The ripple affect this has on a character like Superboy/Conner is that we get to see how -even though they're both Luthors- Conner is profiled, othered and further marginalized as a Kryptonian and a Black homeless teen because he doesn't get to benefit from any of Lex's privileges. This is just part of the many reasons why I think Conner would be infinitely more interesting if he didn't look like Kal El despite being a clone. You get to see a new intersection of how the Kryptonian identity intersects with Blackness on Earth. The potential ripple effect for a character like Lena is also really fun! What if she's struggling with her own model minority pressure when she's making up for her brother's crimes? It's all very compelling!

And MOST importantly, in a 3 trillion IQ Lex Luthor-style move-making Lex Luthor Black means that some version of Matt Fraction & Steve Lieber's Superman's Pal Jimmy Olsen arc exists in my au. Which famously hinges on the twist that LEX LUTHOR AND JIMMY OLSEN ARE DISTANTLY RELATED. THEREFORE!!! We have now found a convoluted way to have Wacky Renaissance Artist Jimmy Olsen connected to The Manifestation Of Black Excellence Evil Edition Lex Luthor in this au.

[vague-humanoid]

Increasingly, it is not safe to be in public, to be human, to be fallible. I’m not quoting breathless journalism about rising crime or conservative talking points about America falling into ruin. The ruin I’m thinking of isn’t in San Francisco or Chicago or at the southern border. The ruin is woven into the fabric of America. It’s seeping into all of us. All across the country, supposedly good, upstanding citizens are often fatally enforcing ever-changing, arbitrary and personal norms for how we conduct ourselves.

In Kansas City, Mo., Ralph Yarl, a Black 16-year-old, rang the wrong doorbell. He was trying to pick up his younger brothers and was simply on the wrong street, Northeast 115th Street instead of Northeast 115th Terrace, a harmless mistake. Andrew Lester, 84 and white, shot him twice and said, according to Ralph, “Don’t come around here.” Bleeding and injured, Ralph went to three different houses, according to a family member, before those good neighbors in a good, middle-class neighborhood helped him.

In upstate New York, a 20-year-old woman, Kaylin Gillis, was looking for a friend’s house in a rural area. The driver of the car she was in turned into a driveway and the homeowner, Kevin Monahan, 65, is accused of firing twice at the car and killing Ms. Gillis.

In Illinois, William Martys was using a leaf blower in his yard. A neighbor, Ettore Lacchei, allegedly started an argument with Mr. Martys and, the police say, killed him.

Two cheerleaders were shot in a Texas parking lot after one, Heather Roth, got into the wrong car. One of her teammates, Payton Washington, was also shot. Both girls survived, with injuries.

In Cleveland, Texas, a father asked his neighbor Francisco Oropesa to stop shooting his gun on his porch because his baby was trying to sleep. Mr. Oropesa walked over to the father’s house and has been charged with killing five people, including an 8-year-old boy, with an AR-15-style rifle. Two of the slain adults were found covering children, who survived.

At a Walgreens in Nashville, Mitarius Boyd suspected that Travonsha Ferguson, who was seven months pregnant, was shoplifting. Instead of calling the police, he followed Ms. Ferguson and her friend into the parking lot and, after one of the women sprayed mace in his face, according to Mr. Boyd, began firing. Ms. Ferguson was rushed to the hospital, where she had an emergency C-section and her baby was born two months early.

And sometimes there is no gun. On Monday, Jordan Neely, a Michael Jackson impersonator experiencing homelessness, was yelling and, according to some subway riders, acting aggressively on an F train in New York City. “I don’t have food, I don’t have a drink, I’m fed up,” Mr. Neely cried out. “I don’t mind going to jail and getting life in prison. I’m ready to die.” Was he making people uncomfortable? I’m sure he was. But his were the words of a man in pain. He did not physically harm anyone. And the consequence for causing discomfort isn’t death unless, of course, it is. A former Marine held Mr. Neely in a chokehold for several minutes, killing the man. News reports keep saying Mr. Neely died, which is a passive thing. We die of old age. We die in a car accident. We die from disease. When someone holds us in a chokehold for several minutes, something far worse has occurred.

A man actively brought about Mr. Neely’s death. No one appears to have intervened during those minutes to help Mr. Neely, though two men apparently tried to help the former Marine. Did anyone ask the former Marine to release Mr. Neely from his chokehold? The people in that subway car prioritized their own discomfort and anxiety over Mr. Neely’s distress. All of the people in that subway car on Monday will have to live with their apparent inaction and indifference. Now that it’s too late, there are haunting, heartbreaking images of Mr. Neely, helpless and pinned, still being choked. How does something like this happen? How does this senseless, avoidable violence happen? Truly, how? We all need to ask ourselves that question until we come up with an acceptable answer.

[simply-ivanka]

Why the GOP Is Winning Over Minorities

The Democrats have nothing to offer but grievance, victimhood and welfare.

Josh Williams -- Wall Street Journal

On Election Day, Donald Trump revealed the new coalition underpinning the modern Republican Party. As a proud black elected Republican, I believe today’s GOP represents people like me better than the Democrats ever have.

My early life could be considered an “authentic” experience as a black man in America. I was once a homeless high-school dropout. As a young adult, I endured a devastating workplace accident that left me disabled. At 30, I pulled myself up and enrolled in college, determined to rewrite my story. Within the next seven years I became a practicing attorney and, in 2022, the first black Republican elected to the Ohio House of Representatives in 50 years.

I understand the needs and concerns of my community, because for many years I lived them. All the Democratic Party ever offered me was grievance, victimhood and welfare. What any American—black or otherwise—wants is the opportunity to work hard and achieve his dreams. The Republican agenda champions economic prosperity, energy independence, border security and community safety. Opportunity lives within the modern GOP, and last Tuesday people of color agreed in record numbers.

To understand why the Democratic Party has failed, just look at how its agenda has affected my hometown of Toledo. Toledoans are very proud of our Jeep plant, the backbone of our local economy. Unfortunately, it has been crippled by big government. New regulations and mandates have led to assembly-line shutdowns and thousands of layoffs. Decades of unfair trade practices and an oppressive tax code leave Toledo and cities like it in decline.

For our gritty town, the Jeep plant has been a leg up for generations. This work has been passed down from fathers and mothers to sons and daughters for longer than I’ve been alive. Without it, many people who grew up like me are simply left with one less option to succeed.

When I walk into the barber shop, people are talking about Jeep jobs, inflation and crime, not identity politics. They ask questions about border security and the cost of living, not culture wars. The average American who looks like me simply isn’t concerned with the fake issues being peddled by the Democratic Party and the elites who set its agenda.

My message to Washington after the election is simple: Stop pandering to us. Treat us like adults. Treat us like Americans.

Whether you love Mr. Trump or loathe him, you can’t accuse him of inauthenticity. Minority communities not only can handle that approach—we appreciate it, and we will vote for it.

Mr. Trump’s Republican Party is where I belong. It’s where my friends, neighbors and pastors belong. The voters have spoken loud and clear that his GOP is the party of the people. All of us.

Mr. Williams represents the 44th Ohio House District, which includes much of the Toledo area.

[suzukiblu]

Oh I want to see *several* of these WIP Wednesday options... but what's up of "Damian gets a Pocket" from today so far it too cute to pass up so that's my request, Please!

From the look of him, the Pocket is most likely either homeless or a refugee, and given that this is Gotham and Damian has no intention of leaving the city any time soon, “homeless” seems the likelier assumption. There are no particular identifying marks on the Pocket’s clothing, either in branding or in reference to anything like a sports team or location or profession. Damian is aware most twelve year-olds in Gotham are unemployed, but a homeless child would require some method to survive by, whether as a runner or a lookout or a thief. Todd stole tires, though Colin . . . well, Colin is in the system, which is not ideal in Damian’s opinion, but Colin has stated it as preferable to the street. 

Damian is not particularly pleased by Colin’s living situation either way, but he is . . . perhaps a resource that he can take advantage of, at this time. Todd might even be, if the Pocket’s point of origin is anywhere near Crime Alley. 

Father–

Damian isn’t certain if Father is a resource that he can take advantage of at this time. 

Or that Father won’t . . . disapprove of this.

[sseniita]

unscheduled comfort

Hero’s schedule has found itself to be very full. She’s asked for a total of a week in extensions, called to be covered at work four times this month, meticulously rationed her four hours of sleep and finally, organized her crime fighting into appointments. And so, it’s safe to say that when the villain had missed his appointment- she was upset. 

Every other villain in the city has been completely uncooperative on the shared calendar the hero had sent out, but the villain was always in time and at their planned locations. She had started to look forward to the only consistent thing in her life. 

She shrugged on her old, tattered jacket. It’s gonna rain. Great. She looked at her phone and tapped her foot impatiently. 

Five minutes passed. 

Ten minutes. 

Fifteen minutes. 

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes late. 

“Thirty minutes late!” She screamed into the pay phone, searching her pockets for more quarters. “You are thirty minutes late! At this point I won’t make it to work and I’ll get fired and I won’t be able to pay for school and I’ll die homeless!” 

“Can you- argh- can’t we postpone?” The rain pattering rhythmically on the phone box made the villain’s voice sound staticy and muffled.  

“That isn’t the point! The point is no one listens to me and I’m trying my best here! Besides, my schedule is so overfilled that next week I’m going to have to prepare a presentation during my lunch break at work!” She glanced at the broken screen on her phone. “I’m gonna be late to work because of you and I can’t get fired because being a hero pays in applause and bruises. I can’t pay my bills with fan letters, Villain!” 

“Hero- now is not the time-” The villain’s voice stopped mid sentence and the hero could hear the slight murmur of a voice on the other line. The hero held the phone closer after putting in two more quarters. 

“Who is that?” she asked in between the murmurs. 

“I- Can you shut up for a second” the hero started at the phone in disgust. The phone was muffled by something so that only the villain’s voice was clear. 

“What? No. No way. She can wait… No, this was planned… So what if I double booked… I don’t… You’re joking… Dear Lord, fine!” 

The hero tried to make sense of the betrayal currently taking place. The villain was having some sort of disagreement with the mystery person- and they had lost. Whoever the mystery person was- they were able to overpower the villain in an argument. They had the hero’s respect… and fear. 

The villain’s clear voice through the phone made her stand up straighter. “Are you in the usual place?” The villain was curt, annoyed. 

“Oh. Uh, ya. Are you coming?” The hero heard the villain’s scoff before the line went dead with two more minutes. Waste of two quarters. 

The hero hung the phone on the receiver and stared out onto the rain flooding the streets. The lights reflected on the pavement almost looked pretty, but they quickly blurred into ugly splotches as the hero tried to blink away the wet from her eyes. She hadn’t noticed when she started crying or how long she had been motionless in the phone box. A salty tear reached the edge of her lips and the cold and tiredness dawned on her. 

She reached into one of the thirty pockets her windbreaker had and pulled out her phone. 

13%. An hour and a half till my shift starts. I can fight the villain for twenty minutes and if I leave right after I’ll make it to work about 45 minutes late, and I can work on my paper on the train- oh wait. I can’t. My phone is basically dead. Cool. 

A knock on the phone box startled her into a sobering alertness. She quickly wiped her tears, wrapped her jacket closer to herself and opened the door, muttering a “sorry” before b-lineing towards an alleyway. 

“Hold on, Hero.” A hand found itself on her shoulder. Villain. The fear was delayed. There was no way she’d be able to fight him in the state. Her joints were locking, she couldn’t feel her fingers, and her nose was all snotty. This was it. Goodbye cruel world. 

“You-” Her body seemed to work on autopilot as it turned to face the villain. She found herself in a defensive position, ready to take a hit. Until her eyes caught what the villain was wearing. The tips of his leather shoes were shiny from the rain,  he was wearing a pair black slacks that elegantly hit right at his ankles. He couldn’t see his presumably also impeccable shirt due to the cozy and warm coat he had on. Black, warm cashmere that hit right almost to his knees. The hero thought for a second that maybe theft wasn’t a bad idea. She could use that coat as a blanket. Or sell the buttons and buy a house. The possibilities are endless. “-aren’t even ready! Where is your suit?” She finished. 

The villain rolled his eyes. Pushing his hair to the back with his free hand. The other hand rested an umbrella against his shoulder, keeping his dry. I could sell the umbrella and buy a car, she thought. “Neither are you, do you think you can fight me in jeans and- are you ok?” 

“I’m fine, thank you very much. It’s raining. Can we get this over with?” She answered, not bothering to wipe away the snot from her nose. 

The villain stared at her for a second, the hero knew the villain knew she was probably crying. But she couldn’t be bothered to care. She wanted to finish this and get to her shift, and then to her tiny room and tinier bed in her three bedroom-five roommate apartment. 

“Right. We’re not fighting today.” The villain turned away, the hero hadn’t noticed the umbrella was above her head until the villain began walking towards the curb. 

‘What do you mean we’re not fighting! We-”

From the distance they heard the honk from a stalling car by the road. Inside it was a woman yelling in their direction. In the dark, all that Hero could make out was the faint silhouette of brown Hollywood curls and the sparkle reflecting off shiny jewelry. The woman yelled at them. 

“She’s soaked! Give her the umbrella!” 

The villain sighed, walking back to the hero and handing her the umbrella. All the hero could do was accept it and watch the villain walk away. Then turn back. And then walk back. 

“Can we please get going? We’re already late.” 

“Huh? Late to what? What’s going on?” Perhaps it was the tiredness or confusion or fear of the mystery person in the car that let the hero be directed by the villain towards the car. 

“I have an ultrasound appointment. We’re going.” 

The hero could only laugh humorlessly as they approached the car- completely numb. “Are you pregnant?”

“No.” They reached the car where, from the passenger’s seat, a beautiful woman was beaming at the hero. “My wife is.” 

The woman held out a hand through the open car window. “I’m belle! I’m so sorry, my husband booked your flight and my ultrasound at the same time, we’re running late but I promise we’ll drive you anywhere you want after the appointment!” The hero couldn’t find it in herself to not shake the beautiful woman’s hand. 

Belle’s voice was the same one the hero tried to put on when she was on television or doing an interview that ‘needed to inspire hope in the hearts of the citizens.’ Except Belles’ came naturally, a joyous and light voice that warmed the hero right up. The hero could only do a nervous and shaky version of it, though. 

“Gosh, you’re much younger than I thought you’d be.” Belle added, with a rather pointed look at the villain- her husband. 

The hero often found pride in herself by knowing what to say. From cheeky one-liners to perfectly crafted emails. But now, in the cold, villain’s hand on her shoulder, and the warmth radiating off this woman, she was disoriented and all she could think to say was; 

“You’re making another one of him?” Belle laughed, the hero was practically sweating. “Villain- wha-” 

“Get in the car, bootlicker.” 

“Honey, don’t be mean!” 

“Get in the car, oh holy and gracious hero.” 

“Honey…” 

Being seated in the back seat of Villain’s car was sobering, Hero could care less if she was about to be killed. Perhaps they honorably discharge her from her burger flipping job once they’d find out. 

“By the way, I’m a huge fan! And I’m so sorry that you’re being forced to fight my husband. I swear I thought you two were about the same age.” 

“Thanks, I appreciate your support.” Said the hero automatically. “Um. No, we’re like 20 years apart.” 

“I’m 31, hero.” Said the villain, turning the keys into the ignition.

“Sure.” 

Belle laughed. “Awe, so you’re so charming! I’ll make sure Villain takes it easier on you, honey. Oh! Here, please have a tissue. It’s cold out isn’t it. Villain, take off your coat to give it to the hero-” 

Belle continued talking and as much as the hero wanted to ask a million questions, the evening had become dark and the passing cars hypnotized into a soothing sleep she wasn’t able to fight. 

The last bit she heard before her head hit the window comfortably was Belle speaking to the Villain. 

“Awe, look she’s sleeping. She must be exhausted.” 

“I’m not sure where she lives- to drop her off. Can you wake her up?” 

“Oh, absolutely not. Poor girl, she's so young. I can’t believe this is your nemesis. She’s barely out of highschool. Let’s take her home, she can stay in the guest room. Just for a while. Awe, she’s adorable.” 

“Love, she gave me a black eye last month.”

“Adorable.”  

And it all went dark and peaceful and warm.

sorry for not updating btw!!! been busy with work and school grrrr hero is so me FR!!!

[literary-illuminati]

Book Review 70 – American Psycho by Brett Easton Ellis

I’m honestly not sure I ever would have gotten around to reading this on my own, but ended up buying it through the ‘blind date with a book’ thing a bookstore in New York was doing when I was visiting (incredible gimmick, for the record). The fact that it then took me a solid three months to actually finish probably tells you something about how genuinely difficult a read I found it. Not in the sense of being bad, but just legitimately difficult to stomach at points. Overall I’d call it a real triumph of literature.

Not that anyone doesn’t already know, but; the book is spent inside the head of Patrick Bateman, high-flying wall street trader and Harvard blueblood at the close of the Reagan era. Also a serial killer. The story is told as a series of more or less disconnected vignettes, jumping from dinner conversations at one exclusive bar or club or another to the brutal torture and murder of a sex worker to several pages of incredibly vapid pontification on Nina Simone’s discography. The story vaguely tracks Bateman growing ever-more alienated and out of control as the year goes on, but there’s very much not any real single narrative or cathartic climax here. - most stuff just happens (stuff that’s either incredibly tedious or utterly nauseating by turns but still just, stuff).

So yeah this is an intensely literary work (obviously), a word I’m here using to mean one that is as much about the form and style of the writing as about the actual events portrayed. Bateman is a monster, but more than that he’s just an utterly boring and tedious husk of a man, traits which are exaggerated to the point of being fascinating– if you told this story in conventional third person narration without all the weird asides, it would be a) like half as long and b) totally worthless. The tonal whiplash of going from an incredibly visceral depiction of Bateman cutting out the eyes of a homeless man to six (utterly insipid) pages on the merits of The Doors is the selling point here (well actually I think Ellis goes back to that specific well probably one time too many, but in general I mean).

Bateman is a tedious, unstable monster, but as far as the book has an obvious thesis it’s that he differs from the rest of his social milieu only in degree. A symptom of a fundamentally rotten society, not a heroic devil among sheep. The book’s climax, such as it is, involved Bateman getting into a drug-fueled gunfight with the NYPD, shooting multiple people in the middle of the street, and then stumbling home and leaving a rambling confession to every crime on his lawyer’s answering machine – but despite very clearly wanting and trying to get caught and face some sort of consequence or justice, people just refuse to believe that someone like him is capable of anything like that. (It’s not, it must be said, an especially subtle book).

There is, as far as I can recall, not a single character who gets enough screentime to give an idea of their personality who I’d call likeable. Sympathetic, sure, but that’s mostly because it’s pretty much impossible not to sympathize with someone getting horrifically tortured and torn apart (at one point a starving rat is involved). The upper crust of New York yuppie-dom is portrayed as shallow and vapid, casually bigoted towards quite literally everyone who isn’t identical to them, status-obsessed to the point of only being able to understand the world as a collection of markers of class and coolness, and totally incapable of real human connection. Bateman is a monster not because of any freak abnormality, but just because he takes all of that a few steps further than his coworkers.

The book is totally serious and straight-faced in its presentation, and absolutely never acknowledges any of the running gags that are kept up through it. Which shows impressive restraint, and also means that none of them exactly have a payoff or a punchline – it’s just a feature of the world that all the expensive meals at trendy restaurants everyone competes for tables at sound disgusting when you think about them for a moment, or that the whole class of wall street trader guy are so entirely interchangeable that ostensible close friends and coworkers constantly mistake each other for other traders and no one particularly cares. Or – and I’m taking this on faith because fuck knows I’ve got no idea what any of the brands people are wearing are – that the ruinously expensive outfits everyone spends so very much time and money on for every engagement all clash comically if you actually looked up what the different pieces looked like. The book’s in no way really a comedy, so the jokes sit a bit oddly, but they’re still overall pretty funny, at least to me.

I like to think I have something of a strong stomach for unpleasant material in books, but this was the first work of fiction that I had genuine trouble reading for content reasons in I can’t even remember. I’m not sure it’s exactly right to call the violence pornographic in a general sense, but as far as American Psycho goes the register and tone Bateman uses to describe fucking a woman and torturing her to death are basically identical (and told in similarly explicit detail), and all of Bateman’s sexual fantasies are more or less explicitly just porn scenes he wants to recreate, so. Regardless, the result’s pretty alienating in both cases – his internal monologue never really feels anything but detached and almost bored as he relays what he does, sound exactly as vapid and alienated as when he is carefully listing the exact brands and designers every person he ever interacts with is wearing at all times, or arguing over dinner reservations for hours on end with his friends and lovers (though both those terms probably deserve heavy airquotes around them). He legitimately sounds considerably more engaged when talking about arguing over sartorial etiquette. It all adds up to a really strong alienating effect.

Anyways, speaking of sex and violence – perhaps because my main exposure to the story before this was tumblr making memes out of scenes from the movie, but I was pretty shocked by just how explicitly awful Patrick is ‘on screen’. The horrible murder, sure, but also just the casual and frequent use of racist and homophobic slurs, the pathological misogyny, the total breakdown he has at the idea of a gay man being attracted to him and thinking he might reciprocate – all of these are entirely in character for an asshole Wall Street ‘80s Guy even if he wasn’t a serial killer, but it’s still oddly shocking at first to see it so thoroughly represented on the page. It makes how comparatively soft-pedaled the bigotry and just, awfulness, of villains in a lot of more modern books stand out a lot more, I suppose? I have read a lot of books that are in some sense About queerness and/or racism in the last year, and no one in any of them holds a candle to good old Patrick Bateman.

Part of that is just the book being so intensely of its time, I suppose. The New York of this book is very much one of the late ‘80s, incredible wealth living side by side with social rot and decay, crippling poverty everywhere and a society that has to a great degree just stopped caring. Absolutely none of which Bateman or any of his peers care one bit about, of course – they’re too busy showing off the latest walkmans and record players, going to the newest clubs, and just generally enjoying all the fruits of Reagan’s America. Recent history has made the fact that Bateman’s personal idol is Donald Trump almost too on the nose to be interesting, but in 1991 I’m sure it was a bit more subtle in how telling it was.

Anyway, yeah, horrifying and exhausting read, triumph of literature, my god did Easton Ellis hate America (this is a compliment). Now time to go watch the movie!

[dystopyx-blog]

scratch

You have an itch. 

A terrible, gnawing, festering itch.

It eats away at you, daily, nightly.

It’s just there, at the back of your every thought.

And you can’t for the life of you find a way to scratch it.

And so it remains, constant, nagging, unbearable.

Until you’re finally able to scratch it.

And when you do, it’s the greatest thing you’ve ever experienced. 

Then it’s all over. The itch that had been plaguing you for what might’ve been months is gone, and you can live your life in peace! 

You’ll never have to worry about that damned itch again.

Or at least, that’s what you think.

But eventually, when you least expect it, it returns. 

It itches. 

You think it might even be worse than before.

It’s begging, begging for you to scratch it! 

And so you do.

You realize this itch of yours isn’t something you can be rid of, at least not permanently. But that’s okay, because you know how to deal with it.

With time, it becomes predictable. You form a routine. You set up a system so that the next time it comes, you’re ready to scratch it. And all of a sudden, it’s no longer an aggravating rash that burdens your every day life. It’s more of an everyday irritant, one you can take care of with the right steps and procedures. 

Except this “itch” of yours couldn’t be further from an everyday irritant; because to scratch your itch

somebody needs to die. 

You live in a world divided by two; the darlings and the yanderes.

Darlings are the “normal” people. Everyday, run of the mill citizens. Each one is unique in their own way. Each has their own aspirations, dreams, flaws, fears, past, quirks, and so on. 

Yanderes are the same way in that sense. Except there’s one key trait separating them from the rest of the world, the “darlings”; a sickness that darlings are incapable of having, but runs rampant in every yandere. 

Love sickness.

Yanderes are obsessed bastards by their very nature, and once they find the object of their obsession, it’s game over for everyone else.

Yanderes are willing to commit any sort of heinous crime to ensure their “love” remains with them. 

And for years, the rest of the world was forced to accept this as simply the way that it is.

Until the creation of “Yancity”.

Technically its real name is San Valentín, but nobody calls it that. From its inception everyone called it “Yandere City”, which was eventually shortened to “Yancity.”

Your government tracked down every last yandere it could (how so was beyond you) and shipped them off to some city in Alaska. 

And to keep them there, they filled the city with darlings, too.

Living in the city was free, aside from food and accoutrements. There were plenty of apartments, rent was nonexistent, and jobs were easy to find and get. Life is easy in Yandere City; so long as you ignore the fact that you’re a sheep in a city of wolves. 

So the poor, homeless, and otherwise down on their luck offer themselves to the gates of hell.

You are one of many willing victims, though you are no sheep. 

You are a snake who slithered its way into the wolf den so you can safely shed your skin. 

You’ve found the perfect place to scratch that itch.

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii this is the prologue chapter for my yandere x reader story “Scratch.”

if it interests you, you can read it on quotev :)