#i felt like ranting this evening folks

[azurecanary]

Honestly still annoyed YEARS later that the CW fucked up a perfect opportunity to have a good Green Arrow show complete with proper versions of Oliver Queen, Dinah Lance, Roy Harper, Mia Dearden and Connor Hawke but instead just decided to write a Green Batman show complete with knockoffs of Bruce Wayne, Oracle, Artemis and Red Hood as well as a weird whitewashed Connor Hawke whose fate we have no clue of three years later.

[thenegativitypit]

Not putting it in the tags of that post because it's only tangentially related but the notes of the moral panic post made me FINALLY realize why exactly it always feels wrong when people go, "You either disown Harry Potter OR you're a transphobe".

Like imagine if it was the satanic panic. "You either quit being a Christian OR you're personally responsible for this shit."

The Muslim panic (which is still going on btw)? "You either renounce your American (or British!) citizenship OR you're an Islamophobe."

Gay panic? Watch out, citizens of basically every country prior to just a few years ago and members of most religions even now. You're obligated to give it up.

Now far be it from me to say a piece of media is as important as a religion or citizenship, but... if you can see the problem with the extreme examples, you can hopefully see what's troublesome about the idea in general.

"This thing is tainted and therefore you must NEVER touch, lest you be BAD," is just... it's practically the definition of purity culture, isn't it? "Some vocal Christians are horribly homophobic, therefore Christianity ITSELF is evil." Like we can understand and express why it doesn't work like that, right?

So in the same way, we can see that, "The author who wrote this very popular book series became a horrible TERF years after the books were complete, therefore you have to renounce the series in its entirety even if it was incredibly formative for you," is... messed up. It's not good.

We shouldn't create moral panic or police people like this. If we do, we're no better than the people who are creating moral panic about and policing us.

[whyoneartheven]

suddenly I have realized my bad habit of procrastinating has become a nearly debilitating fear

[arsen1cs4ng0]

fucking hell

[melonyfelonyfellonme]

How do u get over feeling guilty/like you should be productive for deciding to have a day in bed playing calming video games bc ur burning out at a rapid pace

Asking for a friend x

[god-of-knk]

Logged into my other account to check on the community I'm a part of there and, yeah, I don't know what I really expected. Disappointing as always.

[always-andromeda]

occasionally I'll check up on awful ex-mutuals I've blocked on here from old fandoms just to see what's up with them (I get curious; it's a toxic trait of mine I'm sorry <3) and tell me why one of them posted a picture of their wall and they still have a piece of fanart I drew for them hung up 😀

[livelaughlovesubs]

~ 06.10 - Boothill ~

Dom!reader x sub!boothill - reader is gender neutral

Warning: a little dark, dubcon, sadistic (?) reader, first time (doing smt sexual), finger sucking, gun play, teasing, dacryphilia, dry orgasm, cumming untouched, hair pulling, use of chemicals, choking, violence, vomiting, kidnapping

~ Word count: 7k ~

Nini!rant: went for a slightly different vibe this time~ how is it?

Kinktober list 2024

“Hah, another fake galaxy ranger? Who’s tryna impersonating us this time?” Boothill lowered his hat to hide his face while he stared at a wanted poster. Still clean, it must be a new commission. At first, he only wanted to check his own bounty, when he noticed another one right next to his.

‘Galaxy ranger […….], wanted, dead or alive, bounty [1.380.000]’

Consider him surprised when he didn’t recognize the name or the face. Him, the one who owns a data bank to support his memories. It could only mean that it’s an imposter. Having a fake ranger’s wanted poster hung right next to his is pretty humiliating, are they looking down on him? “This might be interesting.” The cowboy smirked to himself, yanking off the poster from the wall while he continued his pursuit.

This was going to be a side job, to yearn some cash for his good ol’ alcohol: Asdana’s white oak, about 6% alcohol and fragrant like the fields after rain. A classic among the malts. Pair that with a bullet to match and consider yourself drinking the holy water from the garden of Eve. The bass and gunpowder will bring an exquisite taste only folks with fine tongues can taste. If he had to give a deeper description, the word mellowness would match mighty fine.

Just thinking about the taste raised his spirits. Since he was going to catch you soon and get compensated big, it wouldn’t hurt to celebrate like this once in a while. Don't get him wrong, this isn't indulging, it's enjoying life. Which is why he was standing in front of a bustling bar, his favorite one. The minute he walked in, he felt his mind be at ease, like a ship with smooth sailing. Everything stayed as cozily as he remembered, the same old barkeeper, music, and seats. As if this was his second home, he popped down right next to the counter and put his arm up onto the bar table.

“Boss, here! The usual for me, you know, the lit stuff.” Boothill smirked, his other hand was tapping his knee slowly. “It’s you again, one Asdana without ice?” The man behind the counter seems to remember that very cowboy, as well as his usual order. To that boothill answered, “Of course, I take my Asdana neat.” Then the barkeeper nodded, as if to acknowledge it, commenting, "You are as lively as ever, sir." Before walking off to get the bottle.

Lively? Huh, it's not a word he'd use to describe himself, but it isn't bad. No, not bad at all. In the meantime the cyborg looked around the establishment, seeing many new and old faces that bring back memories. Among those, there was a single shadow that intrigued him. It was the person sitting next to him.

You were there already when he came, sipping away at your drink as your eyes darted around aimlessly. A cocktail of some kind, fading from black to red. If he had to guess, probably hangman’s blood? One of the specialties of this bar, he knows the owner is proud of that drink. It’s pretty strong, you must be good at dealing with alcohol. Maybe you'd be a splendid drinking buddy, he thought to himself, grinning from ear to ear. Meeting new people and making connections never hurts anyone.

Suddenly he moved his chair closer to yours, opening his mouth and attempting to strike up a conversation with you. “Hey, you there, I haven’t seen ya’ around here. This your first time here?” He tried his best to give you a gentle smile, that ended up with him showing off his sharp teeth. For some, he might have appeared threatening even. “...Yeah, it is. I heard that the drinks here are excellent, which is why they have so many regulars.” You stirred around in your glass, mixing the two colors.

“That’s right, you see, I consider myself a regular too.” Boothill chuckled, by the looks of it, he was quite proud of that title. “Oh right, name’s boothill, you can call me that. How ‘bout we drink a lil’ together?” He smirked, it was still a rather awkward smile. Though luckily you didn’t seem to mind. “Boothill huh? I’ve heard that name around, you are notorious for your misdeeds against the IPC.” You turned around to face him, returning his gesture by smiling as well.

At least he thinks you did, since he saw your face twitch. However, he couldn’t see it clearly due to the effects of the lighting. That was why you looked like a shadow from afar. The cyborg scoffed a bit, appearing amused by your words, “misdeeds you say? Cutie, my actions may not be innocent but I only do honest work.” A low chuckle reached his ears, followed by your response to his rather playful comment, “Of course, I understand. You galaxy rangers are brimming with righteousness after all.”

For some reason, your voice was as clear as day, despite the bustling noises emerging from the background. Many people were talking among themselves, so despite you not speaking especially loud, he still heard you perfectly. It was almost as if he filtered the other sounds out for yours only. At first glance, you seemed friendly, kind even. Yet there was this strange feeling surrounding you, he couldn’t get rid of the lingering suspicions. How did you know his occupation? Sure, his name was pretty infamous, though was it normal to know this much?

“…I guess the number on my bounty isn’t just for show.” He joked, before letting out some breathy laughs. Instead of paying attention to his words, you stared at his hand, each finger was out of metal. A artificial arm, or to be precise, a cyborg. Nothing you didn’t know. Suddenly you raised your finger, pointing in his direction. Boothill frowned a little, taken aback by it. “Your drink, it’s coming.” After a moment you explained, and he turned his head around.

Who would have guessed, you were right, the bartender was just putting down the liquor as he chirped, “One Asdana?” Before winking at the male and leaving the two of you alone. “Ah, yeah, that's for me.” The cowboy mumbled, about to take the old-fashioned glass when you stopped him. “Wait a second, I have something for you.” The moment your sentence ended, you began fumbling with your bag, apparently searching for something.

He was a bit irritated but listened to you anyway, taking his hand back. Waiting like this was a tiny bit annoying, but he put up with it. About a minute later, you were holding a shiny object in your hand. Without giving him any warnings, you dropped the said object into his drink. The beverage splashed against the glass due to the impact, only a single drop landed outside before the liquid calmed down.

Now, a bullet was slowly sinking to the bottom of the glass. Its color matched his drink, it had a golden gleam. “Holy forkeroni…” He gasped, this bullet, it was- “9 millimeters caliber, 147 grain, and the bottom's round as a pie. An eternal classical, am I right?” After explaining something obvious to him, you finally showed your face by leaning forward. The lightbulb brightened your features, exposing your identity to the cowboy. A daring move, a risky gamble with cards not everyone would have played. You stared right into his black pupils without a hint of fear, and his response to your boldness was as expected. “This information, you are...!” Immediately, the cyborg grabbed you by your collar and yelled, “Son of a nice lady- you are the one from that wanted poster! The fake galaxy ranger!” He shook his head, then demanded, “Fudge me… don’t fork around and answer, how do you know so much about me?” What a serious tone he had, he must be feeling threatened.

Your eyes darted down to his metallic hand, the same one you were eyeing up and down earlier was now clenching your shirt. Instead of taking him seriously, you were calm and collected, taking one step after another. Seeing you so relaxed, he felt a hint of anger building within him and used more force. It was almost enough to lift you off your seat. Gosh, look how much contempt he suddenly has for you when he was so nice to you mere moments ago.

“Please don’t cause a scene, sir boothill, I was only being nice by catering your drink to your taste. What's the problem?” You cooed at him like he was a child throwing a tantrum, playing the naive card. This playful tone of yours reminded him awfully of his own, yet at that moment it annoyed him. “You are dodging my question.” He stressed his words, furrowing his brows and tightening his grip. But he jerked a little when you clasped your hand over his, your touch was warm in comparison to his.

Then you spoke in a calm tone, “Shall we take this outside? There are many watching eyes here. I believe you wouldn’t want to get banned from your favorite bar.” The way you talked suggested you knew much more, a lot more than what he does about you. After all, you knew some private details about his preferences and hobbies. In conclusion, you must have been waiting for him here, at this very bar.

Boothill still hesitated for a moment, before eventually letting go of you. He clicked his tongue as if he regretted your meeting today. In truth, he wasn't in the mood for a fight, despite everything he came here to have fun. Your clothes were now wrinkled and slightly messy, disheveled would also be a fitting term, but you didn’t really bother with straightening them out, rather, you were amused by his hot temper. The boy thought about the situation and the problem he was facing. He couldn't read you at all, what a tough nut to crack.

It would be smart to sort out his thoughts, so first things first, he has to find out how you obtained all this information about him. What was your deal and reason? Then he should think about how to clean up this chaos in case it becomes messy. Even so, startling the other guests wouldn’t be good, that’s why he should contain himself for now. “Fine, lead the way, and don’t try to pull any funny business with me.” He clasped his arms in front of his chest, glaring at you with nothing but contempt. To be honest he looked like a cheeky cat instead of a dangerous lion.

“Don’t look at me like I’m some kind of criminal~” You jest, grinning from ear to ear as you sipped at your cocktail. “Oh yeah? Why do you have quite the sum on your head then.” The cowboy countered your statement, squinting his eyes a little. To think you lost his trust this fast, he was a cautious fellow. “Haha, you hurt me. Don’t you have a bounty on your head as well? If so, why can’t I be righteous too?” He shuddered a little at your words, by the looks of it, you could also be a crazy stalker who invaded his privacy. Heck, he would almost bet on you knowing his head's value in and out.

At this point your voice alone was enough to scratch him the wrong way, you were really testing his patience. Boothill dismissed your statement with a groan, “Don’t compare us, I’m not a motherfudgin' fake ranger like you.” You blinked a few times at his words, before laughing out loud. He didn't like how you reacted. “Ahaha~ yes yes, of course, I’m the bad guy in your story, how did I forget this detail?” You blabbered, and he didn't really understand what you meant.

Then, without giving him any time to process what you said, you sprang up from your seat but made sure to take your cocktail with you. “Come now, cowboy. Take your drink with you, can’t leave that to waste right? Let’s continue drinking outside, like real drinking buddies.” That last sentence, he hasn't asked you yet, that means you guessed by his actions alone. Was it that obvious? It almost felt like you were taunting him or making fun of his previous idea of befriending you.

To save some of his pride, he decided to entertain your little chitchat. “Take it with me? I don’t think I’ll need that long to deal with the likes of you.” He sneered, a cheeky expression was plastered on his face now. You scanned him up and down a few times, then said, “If I can give you one advice: you’ll regret it if you don’t.” Shortly after, you walked out of the store, not giving a damn if he followed you or not. It was because you knew he wouldn’t let you escape so easily, and as you predicted, he followed you to the back of the bar. His footsteps were rather silent for a cyborg, he must not want to involve other guests.

The environment was filthy and dark, as well as out of the sight of innocent civilians. Perfect for an ambush or to have a private talk. You took another sip of your drink and complimented it, “Heavens, have I told you already? This tastes great. Wanna try some?” This sudden courtesy didn't seem fitting at all, considering he already lost all trust he had for you. His eyes pointed to your hand, the hand holding the glass in front of him. Instead of taking it, he clanked his own glass against yours, saying “No need, and cheers. Now that we are drinking, it’s time for you to start talking.” After finishing his speech, he drank his much-anticipated beverage.

This was what he missed, the sweet taste of paradise. No matter how he hated to admit it, the bullet you put in was just the stuff he needed. The faint taste of brass and gunpowder partnered up with the overwhelming sweetness of the malt juice was simply magnificent. “Ehem.. now,” He began, putting the drink onto the staircase next to him. It was the emergency staircase in case of a fire, yet it looked rusty as hell. Still, it won’t crash down because of one measly drink, will it?

This was something he had noticed for a while, somehow, he always found your gaze on his hands. The same applied here when he was putting his malt juice away. Was it worth being careful about? Boothill sighed, before continuing, “Tell me, what is your purpose? You were looking for me, weren’t ya?” Straight to the point, as expected of an ill-mannered cowboy like him, but you didn’t dislike it. “If I told you, this won’t be fun anymore. The villain always shares their plan when the hero is subdued.” You gurgled down the last bits of your ‘hangman’s blood’, then put the glass on the ground, unlike him. Would you look at that, who has no manners now?

Afterward, you walked up to the man, and his response to it was taking a few steps back. It wasn’t until his back hit the wall that the two of you stopped in your tracks. “Shirtbag… do you want to imitate a cartoon villain that bad?” He scoffed, crossing his arms once again. “Hehe, maybe.” You smiled at him providing him with a vague answer. Fork it, he was definitely going to wipe that insolent grin of yours from your face. “Anyway, before things escalate and you hit me, how about a quick introduction? My name is y/n.” The ranger didn’t look happy at all at your suggestion, and so he snapped, “I know, I saw on the poster. Can you stop wasting my free time now?”

“Whoa, easy there. And hey! Don’t pull your gun out!” You said and raised your hands as if to testify to your cooperation, then spouted “Well, I don’t know what information I own that could possibly satisfy you.” Now you were really wasting his time, chatting with no end in sight. Obviously, you were playing dumb with him. This caused Boothill to shout almost angrily, “Just tell me what business you have with me, fudgehead!” His rather funny way of talking didn't shock you, which means this was another piece of information you had access to beforehand. Who was feeding you with all that info?

He reached out for your collar again, but to his surprise, he couldn't move his arm anymore. “What the fork?!” His eyes turned to look up at you, his soft lips were parted due to disbelief. “Thankfully it worked~ otherwise I’d be cheese by now!” You joked, taking another step forwards him. “Holy wubabboo- is this your doing?” A confused expression spread on your face and you questioned, “Did what?” What the- what was happening, he couldn't comprehend this darned situation.

“How did you pull this off-? UrGhh!!” Out of nowhere, he dropped down to his knees, hovering and kneeling on the ground while sweating furiously. There was no strength left in his legs, or he lost control of his limbs somehow. On the outside he looked like a robot out of power, arms dangling next to him all lifeless. “Fudge! Tell me! What did you do?!” This has to be your doing, the timing is too perfect. You scanned his body again, smirking to yourself. "I had to prepare a lot for this, you know."

His ears perked at your confession, were you finally getting bored of that clueless act? Your face was barely visible since the alley wasn’t very bright, there was only one dimly lit street lamp around the corner. “You were easier to catch than I thought.” You then uttered. What the hell is this! That was supposed to be his line, so how did things end up this way? He is a motherfudging cyborg, what could you have possibly done to him?

The word confusion was basically written all over his face, he couldn’t even curse at you because he was so baffled, so perplexed about basically everything. Then, you raised your foot and stepped down on his shoulder. He turned his head to the side just to be faced with your shoe, the soles dirtied his cropped jacket.

“Get off me, you son of a nice fugin' lady.” Boothill gritted his teeth, trying to push you away. But the word in capital letter and underlined was 'trying', since he couldn’t move at all. He felt as helpless as the day he lost his home, unable to do anything but watch from the sidelines. “I like that feisty look in your eyes, cowboy.” You teased, those stinging words hurting his ego. Suddenly you leaned down, all so you could meet his gaze more easily.

Your hands reached for the glass of malt juice standing on the staircase and held it above his face. It shone in a golden light, almost akin to a disco ball. His eyes were glued to that glass, partly because he wondered what you planned to do. “Here, as I said before, this shouldn’t go to waste.” You told him and grabbed his chin. It happened so suddenly that he couldn’t react to it, not like he could have done anything in self-defense anyway. “Ugh, let go you mother- fuuHHMM!!”

When he opened his mouth to curse and to let out a shocked yelp, you forcefully poured the drink down his throat. It streamed down his oesophagus. You had to admit, he had good reflexes for reacting to this so quickly. Some of the liquid landed on his lips or cheeks, but he drank most of the juice. You watched the remains that weren't swallowed drip down his chin, soiling his clothes further and creating a darker spot on the fabric. It also covered his metallic chest in a golden shine, one could easily confuse it with oil.

The cyborg closed his eyes to avoid the liquor getting in places it shouldn’t, he choked a little since you were pouring so fast he couldn’t keep up with the swallowing. This didn’t stop until the glass was empty, even the bullet you gifted him earlier ended up in his mouth. He let it rest on his tongue for a while, before gulping it down as well. “Mmmh, guhh- cough cough!”

Boothill gasped, the bullet didn’t roll in as easily as the malt juice, it remained stuck in his throat. He had to cough a few times for it to slide down, after that he instantly complained, “Fu-fudge... why did you do that? I wanted to enjoy my drink slowly!” But he stopped mid-track when your familiar laugh echoed in his ears, and your fingertips stroked his chin. Shivers ran down his spine at your touch, he didn't know why.

“Dear ranger~ did your mommy not teach you not to take things from a stranger?” His eyes twitched and widened, you couldn’t really grasp the expression he pulled, though he looked devastated. It seems a light switch clicked inside his thick skull. Did you mess with his drink? Boothill just couldn't keep calm anymore at the realization, glaring at you with a nasty attitude. “Oh my, did I hit a sore spot there? You look like you want to kill me.” Yet his threatening, imposing body language didn’t scare you off, which is why you continued ridiculing him.

“I’ll ask you a last time, what the fork did you do to me?" Despite all these misfortunes, he didn't give up his insolent side, he was planning on giving you a hard time until the very end. Boothill was showing his sharp teeth once again, but this time he wasn’t smiling. “Are you familiar with Sulfuric acid?” You uttered, tapping his lips with your thumb. That word was foreign to him, was it something he would know? He wanted to bite down on his bottom lip, but you stopped him. This feeling, it was latex, you were wearing gloves.

“You see, it’s potent enough to melt metal.” The expression that followed after you enlightened him of its importance was simply amazing, you were curious about what he felt in that moment. Shock? Anger? Frustration? Maybe even self-hatred? “Then, how did you-” “Hey, I wasn’t done talking. Anyway, to answer your question, I hid it inside the bullet. Then I just had to wait for it to melt through the brass and voila, need me to say more?” What a talent you have for spouting such horrendous things with an innocent tone.

“Everything’s going according to your plan, huh, explaining everything when the hero’s subdued.” He repeated your words, then coughed again because his throat was burning. Actually, it hurt and itched. His face also felt like it was on fire, or to be precise, his skin did. It was so painful he had to clench his teeth to suppress the pain. You laughed under your breath, laughing at him, mocking him. “Right, if it’s potent enough to inflict wounds on a cyborg, then of course it irritates the skin as well.” Well, that should explain why his skin was hurting. “Now, boothill, may I give you another advice?”

Your hand caressed his cheeks as you asked him that, face only millimetres away from his. The way you touched him was surprisingly gentle, it made him sick. “What do you want.” He scorned, shaking his head to brush off your hand. “I’m sure you have extra protection around the more important components inside your system, though you should still get rid of the acid.” You looked unfazed when he avoided your touch, instead you closed the already nonexistent distance between you two and whispered into his ear.

The male looked mad, really damn angry. He yelled into your face, “Well fudge me I guess?! I can’t forking move my body!” That caught you off guard, you blinked a few times at his aggressive behavior. Don't get you wrong, it's not that you didn’t understand his point of view. On the contrary, it's good to see him still so energetic. “Ah~ my bad, I didn’t think the acid would break your control Center first. Why is it located right next to your stomach anyway?” You admitted, scratching your head a little.

This was so easy that it was almost boring, you expected him to put up more of a fight. But you can't blame him when he's basically a cripple right now. “In other words, I’m fudged? Fork this, dying so dishonorable tsk tsk.” Boothill snarled, rolling his eyes, he didn’t consider himself a living man before, but now he was dead-dead if you knew what he meant.

You glanced at his face, he was sweating and his complexion didn’t look all that good. He acted as if he didn't mind it, but he was hanging onto life so dearly it almost moved you. In the end, you proposed in a tender tone, “Want me to help you?” The ranger was still glaring at you, though his gaze bore more skeptic than fury. “You caused this first- fine, I don’t have any choice but to accept do I?”

No matter how he despised you, he can't carry out revenge when he's dead. It's not that he trusted you to 'save' him, but rather, this is his last resort. As soon as he finished his sentence, you yanked on his chin to make him look up at you. The tips of his hair were wet due to the alcohol, and his skin also reddened due to the acid. Your thumb pressed on his bottom lip, almost pulling at it. A faint blush crept onto his cheeks at the intimate touch. Adorable.

When he parted his lips a little, you took that opportunity to stuff your index and middle finger into his mouth. “What- Mhm..!?” The male groaned, finding himself in a pretty bizarre situation. God how embarrassing, he was falling into a shameful abyss he couldn't crawl out anymore. Truth be told, he had a pretty accurate guess on what you wanted to do, though he really didn’t want to actually carry it out. Was this the only way?

You stuck your digits deeper inside, already at the second knuckle, causing him to flinch and twitch. His eyes were tightly shut, brows furrowed while a growing blush covered his features. Damn it, this is worse than any nightmares, this feels the worst. So what was this bubbling and tingly sensation he felt? It was messing with him, causing him to shudder. He could feel your fingers pressing down on his tongue, as well as you trying to not cut yourself on his teeth. This was weird, it was so strange, why was he getting lightheaded?

“Don’t act so surprised now, I’m helping you as you wanted.” After watching his helpless face for a while, you commented on it, obviously not planning on stopping the teasing anytime soon. It seems you caught on to the growing tension between the two of you, so you chuckled, “Hey... what’s this I'm seeing? Why is your face getting red?” His once half-lidded eyes were yanked wide open at the thought that he got exposed.

Don't tell him he was enjoying this perverted act. “Hmm! Sho-shou ap..!” Boothill tried to speak despite the difficulties, feeling your digits reaching deeper and deeper. With each poke, the tingly feeling also increased. Was this perhaps what they called sexual pleasure? If so, why did he have to experience it for the first time at your hands?

A few seconds later, you were knuckles-deep inside him, fingertips already rubbing the walls of his throat. It was wet and hot in his mouth, and his face seemed to be gradually heating as well. That process was speeding up quite rapidly. His cheeks quickly turned red, a foggy blush tainting the skin. He was blushing so much just from sucking on your fingers a little? You simply couldn’t miss out on ridiculing him yet again, purring into his ear once more, “Does this turn you on? How cute.”

His pupils shrank at your comment, probably at the disbelief that you’d say something this audacious. Him? Turned on by you? What a joke- this can’t be real. He was just having a hard time breathing, and that’s why he was getting red. Really. Though deep down, he knew he couldn't sugarcoat it, the truth will always be the truth, no matter how he denies its existence. “MhMm, guhNn, hmm-nggHh..!” The cowboy tried to argue with you, though his protests were muffled by you, only inaudible noises could be made out.

There were also sneaky moans mixed among his protests or little gasps. The vibrations of his voice tickled your skin, it felt pretty funny actually. “What was that? I can't understand you~” You admitted cheerfully, watching the emotion on his face rotate from shock, and anger to frustration. What a shameless person you were, and not to forget heartless.

Then you pressed down on his wet muscle once again, and he gagged around you. “Ughhh..!” That one single gag soon turned into a series of chokes, and tears began collecting in his eye sockets. So he still had his gag reflex, excellent, it was exactly what you needed. More coughs and chokes continuously spilled from the male while you mercilessly ravished his throat.

He could feel you poking his throat so deep it almost hurt, yet that wasn't the only thing he felt. No. Far from it, his body was burning up from the inside, though it was a different kind of heat than the effects of the acid. His mind felt so foggy and weakened, was it alright for him to let his guard down in times like this? When he still hasn't discovered your purpose? But he couldn't hang on anymore, it was as if his brain was melting. Never ever was it this challenging for him to hang on to his reason and logic, to what makes him human.

"Dahmmmm it..! S-stouu! GuhHGG..!!" He choked again, but this time, it felt like something was coming out... no, it was- "hmHHh, fooouukk!! Ugh-guUH!" This familiar sensation and taste, he couldn't move his tongue but he could still taste it faintly. Not to mention the burdensome smell, this familiar smell that stayed around his nostrils. The Asdana he just gurgled down was coming up again, he was on the verge of vomiting. It was as if his body rejected the drink, and he couldn't stop gagging.

At least his insides won't get messed up any longer, that must be the only positive thing in all this. Even so, to do something that shameful in front of you, damn it, he wants to spit at you if he could. You noticed how his throat tightened, or how his Adam's apple moved around. With that, you took your fingers out as fast as how you stuck them inside him. Strings of saliva connected your fingertips with his mouth, and his tongue hung outside for a while. "Ugh, fu-gUhg, UhmM!!"

Right afterward, he puked on the ground, head hanging low while more gaging sounds left him. His pupils shrunk as the contents spilled onto the filthy ground. Those embarrassing noises didn't cease until he choked up the bullet he had previously swallowed. Then, he whimpered at the taste, it had become sour now due to the chemical. "There you go, you should be fixed now." You reported, but he couldn't bring himself to be joyful about it.

Rather, he was sweating furiously, eyes widened and almost dried up. If he could cry, he definitely would have. Oh how thankful he was in that moment that he physically couldn't sob. He wouldn't have been able to live with the shame of breaking down in tears and weeping in front of you. "Uhhhhg, da-mHnn it... fu-uGGhh!!" The taste of the alcohol wasn't as pleasant as before, probably due to it getting corrupted by the acid you mentioned. Such a waste, and to think it landed on the floor now. A place like that wasn't worth a drink this exquisite.

His eyelids and brows twitched, and now that he was done, he clenched his teeth again and insulted you, "You muddlefudger..." That rebellious look in his gaze didn't vanish, he glared at you once more. You were almost impressed if you didn't notice a small glimmer of falter within his tough facade. Despite it being a normal bodily reaction, he seems to be holding it against you. "And here I thought I helped you out, how ungrateful." You clicked your tongue, and his face became redder. Was it because of the humiliation or anger?

Your shoe was still on his shoulder, pressing down on him, reminding him of his vulnerable position. The Cowboy snapped at you, spitting through gritted teeth, "What do ya' got planned now?" You took off your gloves, they were covered in his saliva. Then you revealed, "I'm not sure." He only got more annoyed by that nonchalant answer and demanded, "If you're going to kill me make it quick." Weirdly enough, your eyes glimmered, as if you were inspired by his suggestion. "If that's what you want, I don't mind it." You smirked, patting his head, stroking his long hair as your other hand sneakily pulled out the gun around his waist.

He almost lost himself in that small gesture of comfort you gave him, if it wasn't for him seeing you with his gun in your hand. "Hah.. with my own weapon? Fudge, you want to humiliate me to the end huh." How resentful he sounded, you almost pitied this guy. "Maybe I do." After saying that irritatingly proud, you pressed his revolver against his forehead, pushing his bangs to the side. "But this is a little boring, don't you think?"

As if you were truly interested in his opinion, he found it quite difficult to believe that. "Why do you ask me?" Boothill gnarled, but to his surprise, you moved the revolver away. Instead, the barrel was pressed flat against his chest, the muzzle facing his chin. "What are you..?" The male mumbled, twisting his expression at this damned play you organized for him. For you, all this must be a game, a stage you laid out for him, where he was a mindless puppet playing right into your hand.

He thought he couldn't be surprised anymore, yet your actions kept going beyond anything he could ever imagine. You moved the revolver upwards so that the muzzle was touching the underside of his chin. At the same time, the gun was going underneath his short jacket. "Y-you..!" The cyborg couldn't help but blush a little. His face was hot, overheating even compared to the cold weapon you held in your hands. "Do you still want to die? If you beg, I might spar you?" Your tone didn't sound that serious, it was almost said in a joking manner.

“Fork you, never." Boothill snarled again, acting disobedient even though his life was at stake. He had a strong spirit since he was still so cocky after all the things he went through. You wiped off the smile from your face, now staring down at him with a cold-blooded expression, "I'll count down from three then. Three..." Wha- no, this can't be the end, he still has to find Oswaldo. His artificial heart pounded against his chest, causing his mind to fall into chaos. "Two."

You were so cruel, counting down like this without remorse, a fudging monster! Adrenaline was being pumped through his body, or should he rather say every wire he owned? "One-" Without thinking, since he lost that privilege the moment you began counting, he yelled as fast as he could and closed his eyes, "Fudge! Fine! If m'gonna die lemme at least curse at you! You- er, muddlefudging clocksucker!!" Right now, he kind of wished he could cry, just to let out some steam. You couldn't help but giggle, before uttering the word, "Zero." Suddenly, he blanked out.

For a split second, time appeared to have stopped. What followed after was a loud, ear-splitting sound that echoed through the alley. To be expected, it definitely alarmed other people. Then, absolute silence emerged. Not even the faint music from the bar could be heard anymore. "Ah... hu-huh..?" "Oh? Seems like your gun wasn't loaded!" You giggled, you knew this from the start, didn't you? Pants along with a few choked-out whines escaped him. Shivers traveled through him and electricity was being sent to his brain, stimulating the euphoric parts.

A moment later, a slap sound reached his ears, and a sting that felt strangely pleasant originated from his cheek. His face turned to the side, and his cheek throbbed. "uh-urghh..! Ah, wha-what?" Did you just... slap him? Boothill groaned, shaking a little as drool rolled down his chin because his mouth remained open for too long. His spit also defiled the gun, wetting the revolver. Then, the unimaginable happened, and he let out an unrestrained moan, "ahhhHHHNngg..!?" It was high-pitched and whorish, he wore such a confused but slutty expression that it surprised both of you.

Reality crushed down on him too hard, and he couldn't help but gasp and whimper underneath his ragged inhales. "Ugh..ngh- wha-what's this fe-feeling..? W-why.. ha-hmnHg..♡♥︎?" Oh dear, this is not what you think just happened, right? "Boothill, did you just cum?" You said his name after a long while, and he groaned again, "guHhh... s-stop, that's nonsense! How can I e-even.. I-" The boy stumbled over his words, stuttering as a deep blush was painted over his entire face. He was such a twitchy mess now, totally different than his previous self.

“Are you a masochist?” You asked him randomly, it was so out of pocket that it killed the mood. "...are you crazy?" Boothill replied with scorn, his pride was pretty hurt by that statement. As if to test your speculation, you grabbed the back of his hair and yanked on it, making him yelp. "Arghh..! L-let go- fudge!" Then you squeezed his cheeks and stuck out your tongue. He stared at you hesitantly, his own tongue also hanging outside. Mere moments later, your spit was dripping down and landing in his mouth.

That action rendered him speechless, causing him to freeze. Your saliva tasted a little like alcohol. Darn it, this was so disgusting. Once you were done, you let go of the cowboy again, before teasing him, "I was right, you are a masochistic dog~" You knew because of his flushed cheeks, they became redder at your lewd antics. "Are you satisfied now? The fork do you want from me?!" Boothill scoffed, he could only bear this much until his breaking point. "What do I want?" You repeated his sentence, and put a finger on your chin as if you were thinking hard about something.

In the meantime, boothill impatiently waited, he desperately wanted to know your intentions, to see if it justified your actions. When you moved your finger away, you grinned before responding, "I think the answer is you." "...huh?" The cyborg was stunned, staring up at you with spirals in his pupils as you suddenly embraced him. "You heard me, boothill." Your voice and your hug were so warm, he didn't know you could be this gentle.

No, this was no good, it was troubling, to say the least. "Y/n? You- shirt, what do you mean?" For the first time, you heard your name come out of his mouth. His voice trembled as he voiced out your name, the way he said it had a nice ring to it. Then he glared at you once again, but this time he looked like a small animal, eyes glistening while a heavy blush formed on his face. Wait, why was he even blushing? Maybe, because he was wanted for the first time after centuries?

"I hate you." He said after returning to his senses, he got caught up in his emotions there for a moment. These little bits of comfort aren't enough to make up for the mess you caused, and he didn't feel the same. On the other hand, you couldn't stop smirking, and he knew by the looks of it that it wasn't an innocent smile by length. "Let's get out of here, I'll help you move." You then told him and helped him get up, pulling him by his arms.

This was immediately met with angry protests from the male, "Don't touch me- hey, ugh! Where the fudge are you taking me?" The second he let his guard down, you stuffed your gloves into his mouth to muffle his voice, "hMHh?! MmhhGFFF!!!" After that, to satisfy his curiosity, you whispered quietly, "To a place where I can have you."

.

.

"Finally, the guards are here." One of the guests said, to which another one answered, "Thank god because no one dared to go see what was going on." Maybe people we in disarray due to the mysterious sound they all heard. It was probably a gunshot, which means, someone might have died. Yet no one dared to go into the alley, out of fear that they might be the next victim. After the guards arrived, a rather large group of people followed them and ran over to the scene.

They all wanted to know what that gunshot was, standing on the sidelines and observing the investigation. 'What the hell happened here?!' Everyone wondered, eyes searching around for evidence. The only hints they found were two glasses standing on the staircase with some credits, as well as a pool of what seems to be malt juice lying on the ground along with a single golden bullet in the midst of it.

The guard in charge of this operation reached out for the bullet and said, "...someone must have been shot." Then he eyed the bullet up and down, in hopes of finding more clues. That's when he noticed a weird detail, "Why are there holes in the bullet?"

Tags: @ghostiegirl56 @thisisnotangel @ghostgoosygoose @i-dont-fooken-know @chuuya-brainrot @allyfoxglove @thigh-o-saur @fallenthemisticalyingyang @fem-dom-roze

Nini!rant 2.0:

Based on my findings, concentrated sulfuric acid can melt many metals, like aluminium, iron and steel. (Boothill isn’t safe hehe) It’s enough if it’s moderately concentrated, so it’s alright if a bit of water mixes into it as well. It also reacts to brass - the copper aspect of it, I dunno if it reacts to zink as well. Some sources say yes, some denied it.

Anyway, the Formular for the melting process or chemical reaction would be: Cu + h2So4 -> CuSo4 + h2 or Fe + h2So4 -> FeSo4 h2

So it also creates hydrogen gas at the same time, which also melts iron and is poison for the human body. Annnnd copper Sulfid, which is weak and easily breakable, that means it can weaken the brass.

My plan to poison him: his favourite drink is malt juice with a 9mm calliber bullet that’s out of brass. And malt juice is out of ca. 25-30% water. So, I was thinking of drilling a hole into the bottom of the bullet and use a needle to shoot concentrated sulfuric acid inside the capsule. Then drop that in the malt juice. Now we just gotta wait for the acid to melt through the bullet, and mix with the water of the alcohol, then it’d become moderately concentrated. Btw sulfuric acid can absorb water from everywhere, even from the air.

Then if he drinks it, bam, his insides will melt. It might take a bit, so we gotta entertain him and stretch out the time. Even if he doesn’t drink it, he eats bullets, so he’ll get the acid inside his body anyway. With that, we successfully ‘poisoned’ him. It takes a bit of fantasy but oh well.

Now, take this hangman’s blood recipe:

- 1¾ parts gin.

- 1¾ parts white rum.

- 1¾ parts whiskey.

- 1¾ parts brandy.

- 7½ parts stout beer.

- 6 parts champagne.

[versethetic]

feelings don't dictate. belief does.

putting this up here for my own archive. but i am once again reiterating that it does not matter how you feel.

you can feel confident as fuck and still believe you're gonna fail a test.

you can feel like dogshit about going on stage and delivering a speech and still believe you're gonna fucking kill it.

i can feel like i need to do more to get my perfect life. i can feel like i'm not being consistent enough. i can feel like there's something i'm not doing right.

but i will still, always choose to believe that it is done. i will always choose to believe that i've already got it. i will always choose to believe that no matter how i feel, i am living my dream life.

that is it. feel how you need to feel.

be sad; you feel like you "don't see it."

be upset; it feels like its "taking forever."

be mad; you feel you aren't "doing enough."

then when you've processed what you feel. get right back to what you believe.

be happy; you believe that it's already accomplished in the 4d and is yours.

be overjoyed; you believe that you are a master manifestor who gets shit instantly.

be ecstatic; you believe everything you do is perfect. you can do no wrong. manifesting is the easiest thing in the world to you.

rant:

i get upset with myself sometimes. its been infinitely better now than even a few months ago, but i often felt like if i don't remember to persist or affirm or wtvr then im losing sight of my end goal, my manifestation.

i feel down when i wake up and "don't see my perfect life" and it sucks. i have bad days; so do many other folks on this app. but when i read and see from other blogs that feelings aren't the end all be all of my manifestation journey. it makes me so fucking happy.

so i may feel these things from time to time. but now, i can always choose to just not believe it. i can choose to believe that i've always been living my dream life. i can choose to believe that i don't need to remember to affirm and visualize everyday because i'm already perfect. i believe that no matter how much i feel like i need to do smth, it only matters that its already been decided.

[gatorbites-imagines]

Kinktober day 13

Jason Todd + Masks or Helmets

Hi guys, hows everyone doing lately? Im tired, but what else is new. Such is the waters of life, or whatever they say. I have no idea where I was going with this, enjoy. Kind of goes hand in hand with the Jason prompt from last year, which you can read here. This is more focused on their relationship, so it might be a little bland.

2024 kinktober masterlist.

What you and Hood shared didn’t have a name. you weren’t officially dating or anything, but you only messed around with each other, if that made sense. He got you stuff in leather, and let you fondle his body, when and when he wasn’t wearing that latex bodysuit. It got you both going, and helped keep the edge off when things got annoying. Plus, he was hot as hell, even if you had never seen his face.

Him wearing his helmet always seemed to add a bit of an edge to what you two did, especially when your hands followed the shiny surface of the black latex suit he wore, only to see it follow up under the helmet. There was a small seam just below his head, before the helmet started, but that was all. It left you almost dizzy just thinking about it, wondering what was beneath it all.

Of course, you didn’t get to see beneath it for a long time, even when Hood got wacked hard enough in the head that he could barely stand on is own two feet, and you had to drag him to Leslie’s. Leslie was used to seeing you, both of you. You liked to fight, and Hood just always ended up fighting whether he wants too or not. All the leather you wore was pretty damn recognizable too, making you a memorable sight.

At least, it would have made you memorable, if this wasn’t Gotham. Most folk were too busy trying to survive this shithole to worry about what anyone wore, only checking if it was the uniform of some rogue or gang, before going on their way. The red streaks to your outfits were enough to let people know you were one of Hoods, and that’s all they needed to know.

You knew Joker had gotten out some days before, and that he had finally been picked up by the bats again, after causing more death than that clown should be allowed too. You hadn’t even needed to check the news or anything, since Hoods pacing and ranting was enough to tell you that the clown was out again. If it were up to you, then Joke would have been dead a long time ago, would do a lot of good in your opinion.

It got to a point where you felt like Hood was gonna burst a blood vessel, so you had to resort to the good ol, rub his torso and try and calm him down. He was wearing the same latex as always, his angry breathing loud enough for his helmet to pick it up. Hood sounded like some kind of angry dragon about to breath fire all over you, or maybe that was just you making things up.

The helmet was blank, the white eyes doing nothing but staring at you with no feeling or tell of what was going through his head. You had learned some of his tells over all the time, at least what Hood allowed you to see of him. It wasn’t a lot, but it was enough to know when he was angry, stressed, sad, or whatever else he might feel that could hinder him as a leader.

Him leaning his head back to flash his latex covered throat was a bit new though, his shoulders slumping as he exhaled loudly, clearly debating on something inside his head. Hood had a lot of thoughts, a lot of it that he never shared with any of you and kept to himself. That was just how Hood was, he had at least gotten better at sharing when something could involve you guys, sometimes.

You almost wanted to pull your hands off his torso where they had been rubbing his stomach through the shiny material, when he reached up to grab his helmet. It felt illegal to see what was beneath it, your hands tensing up with the instinctual want to cover your eyes. Seeing Hoods face felt so wrong, like something you should never be allowed to do.

It left you a bit stumped as the helmet came off, only to reveal… another mask. Or rather, another hood. You didn’t know too much about the whole, gimp culture, at least you thought it was one of those masks. Except it had some kind of mesh material covering his eyes and mouth, still leaving his eyes a mystery to you.

You were speechless, and you were rarely speechless. Hood barely looked like himself as he shucked his jacket and shirt off, herding you backwards until you were sitting in his chair, in his office. Having someone as large as Hood kneeling between your knees was still new and uncomfortable in its own way, but also nice, good.

He clearly didn’t want this to go anywhere, as he avoided rubbing against the obvious hardness sticking to your thigh through the tight material of your leather pants. Instead, Hood just pressed his forehead against your knee and sighed loudly, rubbing his head from side to side, like he just needed something.

With slight hesitation, you finally just decided to say fuck it. There was a guy in the sewers who looked like a crocodile, a chick who controlled plants, and you were pretty sure there was a bird cult in the city. So, who where you to judge that your boss, who’d clearly shown you that he was into this whole thing, was into this whole thing.

With a soft exhale you just place one of your leather gloved hands on the back of his sleek head, moving it in slow motions back and forth. Rubbing from the back of his head, down between his shoulders, and back up again. It felt almost like scrubbing the hood of a car, not that you legally owned one. But you’d painted and waxed enough cars for the motions to be familiar.

You felt kinda bad comparing your Boss to a car getting waxed, but what he wore left him shiny like one, so you couldn’t really help it. Hood clearly wasn’t gonna get all soft and pliable like you’d seen in videos online, not in some place as dangerous as his office. The only place that was good enough for that was his safehouses, you hoped. The guy needed some time to just turn off his brain and do what he liked, but realistically no place was ever safe enough for that in Gotham.

Sitting here rubbing your crime bosses hooded head wasn’t ever on your plans for the future. But it was nice in a way, if you didn’t think too much about it. There was a familiar throb between your thighs that told you that your body definitely liked it, you just had to turn the thought in your head for a bit, maybe even do some research on whatever it was Hood was into.

Latex, full head covering, and masks wasn’t really your thing, but if Hood was into it enough, then yeah, you’d learn about it. He had always been a nice guy, in the way crime bosses could be nice, and you had this whole, strange relationship going on, which made it worth learning about.

Maybe next time, when he wasn’t this worked up, Hood could actually tell you about it. For now, though, you just sat there and comforted him, in that strange way he seemed to need. But everything in Gotham was weird, so maybe this wasn’t as strange as it felt. Not weird, maybe you should just call it new instead. It was new, and you were happy to explore it with Hood, if he allowed it.

[oneshlut]

SORRY! i originally asked on the wrong post! My bad!

Hello!!!! I have no idea if this is the right post for requests, but i reqd your overjoyed headcanon and absolutely adored it! I love your writing style already! I originally had two requests, but for now ill go with one, with the Amazing Didgital cricus blowing up, i found favoritizim in the mean purple rabbit, i was wondering for some Jax crush headcanons? I loved your other one, and if its no trouble, id love to read it! Have a lovely day/night!!

A/N: omgomg!! it warms my heart hearing that people are enjoying my writing! thank you so much for the request, i hope you don't mind that i sprinkled in some confessing headcanons in there.. enjoyenjoy!!

Input Feelings (Jax x Reader) [Headcanons]

Rules For Requesting

Characters I Will Write For

Masterlist

Summary: General Jax crushing and confessing headcanons

Nothing irritates Jax more than someone new. Sure, a new fella to add to the prank list, and yet, another re-do of the theme song. So seeing you spawn into existence, scrambling around fearfully, made him feel both amused and annoyed. Let's just say he started out with mixed feelings for you. Mind you, these are just judgements. He hasn't even met you yet. Rude, I know, but it's Jax.

Meeting you went way better than he thought! You actually didn't find him annoying? That was a change of pace for him. Of course, not like he minded. Not at all! Looks like he'll have a new sucker to prank after all.

Although Jax was amused by you, you sure weren't. Not on the second day, at least. You had been talking with him earlier that day, and he wouldn't shut up about insects. Weird, you'd think of all people to be ranting about insects, it would be Kinger. Until later that night, or at least you thought it was night, you opened your door to find spiders in your bed.

And thus, you became Jax's main target for pranking! Hooray..! Yes, you liked his company--he was actually pretty fun to be around! But, uh, you prefer your outfit to not be soaked from a water bucket by the end of the day.

You two became frenemies. Sometimes, days went by where he wouldn't prank you. Shocking, I know. Jax just didn't wanna be too harsh on you, y'know? Which is weird, because Jax doesn't go easy on folks very often.

On days where he wouldn't prank you, you would sometimes receive notes from him. It was a good spirit lifter to go to your room at the end of a long adventure and see the corniest dad joke ever written on a piece of notepaper with crayon writing, sitting there on your bedside table. And on good days, you'd even write notes back for him!

One day, Jax gets either asked or teased about how he's so fond with you, and so rude to everyone else. He either makes some dumb excuse or tries to raise suspicion on the person asking, like the asshole he is, but it gets him thinking. He doesn't like to think. He's a man of action. But you were a.. different scenario.

Before, he was this complete asshole. And that's it, really. But you did something to him, something that he had no idea what to do with. Caine's gotta be messing with his coding, right? Maybe he input feeings in his code just to be mean. But being mean was his thing! God, what have you done to him..?

You, at the time, had no idea you were stripping away all of his confidence. As far as you knew, he has just been a bit nicer recently. Which was good! Right? Right. The notes would've been obvious proof he was getting better. Well, first, he was sending more notes rather than.. bugs.. but second, the notes started getting nicer and nicer. Some were just straight up compliments. That's when you noticed something was off. Jax never complimented anyone. Though, you didn't mind some of the compliments...

It's not like Jax has never been in love. He knows he had some sort of love life when he was in the real world, but he was left with just wisps of what it actually felt like to love someone. To care for someone. Though, now, he's finally able to remember.

You noticed how his teasing significantly decreased the more you spent time with him. You kinda missed it, but you're not one to complain.

Jax, on the other hand, was on edge all the time around you. He hated that you washed away his confidence facade, he hated how soft he was around you, how vulnerable. But that smug smirk wasn't gone just yet. He had one more "prank" to pull.

Ha, he wishes it was a prank. It really wasn't. This was actually the most serious he's ever been. He stared at the crudely drawn purple heart on a piece of scratch paper, only now doubting everything he's ever done as butterflies arose in his digital stomach. Standing outside your door, he suddenly felt all the nerves coming back to him he never thought he'd have to feel again. Jax swallowed down his nerves, but still couldn't hide the flush look on his face--or the fact that his pretend-guts were being tied into a bow.

Inside the small homemade card was an admittance to something he never thought he had to admit. Something he'd rather admit in person. Instead, since every inch of his confidence was gone at this point, he confessed in horrible handwriting, written with crayola twistables.

Jax took one final breath before sliding the heart under your door.

[bokettochild]

Hello! Invitation to rant about Legend since I love hearing what you have to say about him ❤️

*cracks knuckles like popcorn*

Settle back, luv! You've unlocked a ramble!

The thing I love most about Legend is honestly what a sweet person he is, like, genuinely.

He set out on his first journey because he had a dream about someone needing help and determined he would be the one to help her. And ever since then, no matter what, when people are in trouble, he helps. Like, he had nothing to gain, and in the grande scheme of things, most of his adventures? He had nothing to lose either. Nothing he had't already experienced similar at any rate. But he still goes, he still helps, and no matter how tired, or weary, or lonesome, or painful it is, he always picks up his sword and helps because it's the right thing to do.

And like, I know he's not the only one, Hyrule had no stakes either, no reason, but that in no ways makes Legend's sacrifices at smaller.

Like, Legend literally sacrificed everything. He gave up his childhood, his family, his happiness, his piece of mind, any future he had and risked or lost so, so may relationships and friends.

Like, why do we never see his uncle again after the first game if he's cannonically the same Link across his first four adventures? Why is he living alone is most of his adventures? Like, most Links have something, and those that do live alone are mostly adults, but he is most definitely still a kid. Where did Uncle Aflon go?

My personal headcannon is that he struggled so much with losing the innocent baby he raised and finding a terrified nine-year-old hero instead, that he sort of just... handed little Ledge along to the next relative and quietly disappeared. Not for lack of love, but more because he felt the boy he loved was gone forever and replaced. Maybe he believed that, like the old stories warn, his baby was stolen by the kolkiri and replaced with a high-strung changeling child while he was gone.

I like to think Uncle Aflon is out there somewhere, settled down and trying to live a normal life, maybe with a child of his onw by ow, but he can't erase the kid he raised from his mind and it haunts him all the time that he didn't stay, but maybe he's too scared to go back, to answer for it.

And you know that hurt Legend. You know he's totally got some form of abandonment issues from not only losing his parents when he was small, not eer getting to know them because literally all the rest of his family save his grandparents and Uncle were slaughtered due to some stupid prophecy Ganon wanted to present coming true. Like, it's not even just from not knowing his parents; there's a whole culture and lifestyle that the Knights of Hylia likely would have had that he will never fully know because they were all killed in an effort by Ganon to stop his being born.

Legend will never grow up with the kind of family others had because he was forged, from birth, to be a hero. He ever grew up with a full family either, but that meant that he probably has a different sort instead. I like to think the reason that, in all his games, he's so close with the village folk, or why so many people know him, is because there's this sense of longing he's got for a connection to a culture and family he had stolen from him, so he embraces that of those around him and they in turn have always embraced him back. He's a sponge for any sort of semblance of warmth he's lost, but as his adventures went on and he was betrayed more or his need for safety, or trust was used against him to hurt him, he's hardened.

There's a warrant on his head, and in game we see people I the village he probably grew up in (it's right next to his house pities sakes!) reporting him to the guards. There's no doubt in my mind that some were less direct about it, pretending to offer him a place to hide or even a meal, a meal for a kid who's too small to cook for himself and doesn't know yet how to forage, only to try and trap him or poison him when his guard was lowered.

We talk about warriors being betrayed by soldiers as a grown man, but Legend was turned on by the pillage people that watched him grow up, and that does far more damage; he probably never trusts fully. never trusts that others won't him someway, either by causing physical harm or leaving him alone.

Alone like everyone else has.

And like, he really is alone. he's got so many friends in the games, so many allies, but they're all people spread hither and yon, some dead, some ever real in the first place, and others, well... like with his uncle, they struggle with seeing him so changed after every adventure, and while not all leave, it's harder to reconnect with someone who's almost like a stranger a second time, but always so busy you hardly have time to talk.

Yet, despite all this, despite a lack of trust and the fact that anyone could hurt him, might hurt him, might outgrow him, or he them, he still helps whenever he's asked, he still does what is needed. he still gives and gives, and even if he doesn't do it with a smile anymore, even if he helps you up with a hand on his sword-hilt, he's still willing to take that risk because he genuinely wants to help other people.

Like, there is no low you could find he hasn't known. All heroes have probably starved at one point or another, and in other countries he was always as good as homeless, sometimes penniless. He's been there, and he doesn't want that for anyone else. So even though there's always a risk, he'd rather face it to help a person in need than leave them on the wayside like so many did for him.

Forgive my imagery, but Legend's the epitome of "become the good you want to see the world", even if that good comes with a shield raised and expectant at all times of evil around them.

He's a good kid. A scared kid, but a good one all the same.

He's known as "the greatest of all the heroes of Hyrule" by the goddesses themselves, and they've told him as much. He's the one who saves that which people worship. Like, no disrespect to the other heroes, but only Sky has also rescued a goddess, but Legend's rescued two, and a god besides (the Windfish), as well as the goddess incarnates of both Hyrule and Lorule.

His job is literally to protect the people responsible for keeping the world running, the people who are supposed to be able to fix anything and protect all mortal life.

He's not just the hero chosen by the gods, he is the Hero of the gods themselves.

And he still tells peop he's just an average nobody. he still lives in a cramped little house that his uncle left behind, clinging to the only semblance he's got left of a time before he was a hero, of a time where he had a family and never had to be afraid and when he used to be protected by someone.

Just.... as a kid who grew up as the protector, the safe one, and the helper, Legend is my hero, because he is those things as well. Because he somehow remains strong enough for not just Hyrule, not just the gods, but the whole world around him, and eve when he breaks, he only comes back stronger, more determined, and now even Ganon groans and huffs out "you again?" when he sees him.

Legend has seen the most hell, known the most loss, sacrificed every part of himself and what he wants or needs for the sake of those around him, and yet he's still somehow not just standing, but fighting, and not just fighting, but winning.

You just know, the day he eventually does lay that sword down, he's probably going to freaking break. But, I like to think, with all the good he's done, it will eventually come back to him, and the people he's helped will finally start helping him in return when it's hi who needs it most.

And just... yeah. Legend's sharp tongued and wary and he's got these high walls up, but at his core, he's literally running purely on love for those around him, on the hope that they're worth the trouble and that he's not leaving anyone who needs it on their own; he's so full of heart! He's got a heart so pure even Fi is startled by it, that the triforce entrusts itself to him, that even the most annoying assholes eventually become fond of him (looking at you here, Ralph!)

So yeah, I'm a sucker for that heart behind a wall of thorns kinda character, but Legend took that to the max and I thoroughly adore him for it <3

[cybertron-after-dark]

I was gonna ask a question but i honestly forgot it 😅 so just tell me something you want to rant about

If you do happen to remember what you were gonna ask feel free to do so, do not worry about spamming my inbox bc I live for that shit.

As for the rant

Transformers Rescue Bots had some of the best, kindest, and most respectful representation of neurodivergence I have ever seen in media and I'm tired of pretending it didn't.

While there are obvious complaints to be made about neurodivergent traits (especially autistic traits) usually being portrayed in media by inhuman characters like aliens or robots, this being a case of both, I feel like thats a pretty negligible sin given just how human the show makes the robots feel. (Also it was like 2011 and we were STRUGGLING for any scraps of rep anyway)

But like. The behaviors all these robots exhibit are all shit that I do that was always deemed unacceptable when I was a kid and seeing it portrayed with the level of kindness and gentleness they do in that show has me fuckin crying a little man. I wish I had actually watched it when I was younger and it was first airing because maybe if I did I would've had an easier time explaining what the hell was going on with my brain a LOT sooner.

Blades being anxious, overly sensitive, and WHOLEHEARTEDLY queer (which they had the absolute unparalleled balls to just casually confirm by having him swoon over "hunky vampires" in one episode and NOBODY commented on it. Fucking iconic) and getting so so deeply invested in the shows and movies he loves that he acts out the roles with enough passion to steel his nerves and completely flourish.

Boulder getting really confused at concepts that are basic and intuitive for most people, but still being so fucking intelligent, and never being made to feel stupid for the mix-ups, as well as just being so wholely, unabashedly in love with the planet he's found himself on, even if he doesn't understand all of it (Also apologizing to inanimate objects when he knocks them over 😭)

Chase being obsessed with rules and law because he NEEDS the structure to not fall apart at the seams, even feeling the need to fabricate a minor crime to justify using the emergency line to get a hold of the firehouse when he can't find the other bots. As well as just fully not understanding comedy (BUT TRYING HIS DAMNEDEST), taking things super literally, and having a lot of trouble with tone and expressions (even though you know just how deeply he feels All The Time).

Heatwave being desperate for attention and recognition, but completely allergic to asking for it. And honestly allergic to showing any genuine emotional responses other than aggression. The constant sarcasm and sass and defensiveness that he POORLY maintains because everyone knows that underneath that tough guy front is the loneliest robot on earth that wants to be loved SO bad but would rather jump into unicron's mouth than voice it because if he lets his guard down who knows what will happen to him or the people he cares about.

Just. All of it man. Seeing them exhibiting all these behaviors and quirks that all too often get met with poor reactions from people who don't want to deal with what they don't really get, but here they're met with patience and understanding?? It's got me fucked up. They get to be functional adults that struggle with what they have going on but still push through. They get to have unconditionally loving relationships with people that treat them with respect. And that's the kind of shit that gives me a lot of hope for folks like me because maybe some neurotypical kids that watched it picked up on what's helpful when their friend who acts like one of the bots is going through it. And maybe some neurodivergent kids watched it too and for the first time they just felt SEEN.

Okay rant over, I'm gonna go cry over some plastic robots 👍

[busket]

gravity falls rant, cw sexual assault and harassment

seeing the gf fandom do a full 180 on billford is so odd to see and kind of infuriating because I had so many nasty rumors and lies spread about me in 2015-2018 because I liked them as bitter exes. a callout google doc was made and I never read it, but I know it framed me as a creep and an abuser. all because I thought a cartoon nerd and a triangle had a fascinating dynamic that was dark and compelling

in 2017 or 2018 someone sent like 70 messages to my curiouscat just repeating RAPIST RAPIST RAPIST RAPIST over and over again. I'd never even had sex at that point, and I had just cut my dad out of my life for actually being a pedophile and a rapist. so that was traumatizing! that really hurt me!

I also know it was because I had a NSFW account where i drew porn (i was an adult, i was clear i only wanted adults following me. and I still do draw nsfw, I'm not ashamed of that now but these folks made me ashamed of it for years) that included some porn of trans men, like Stanley or Stanford as trans men (NEVER together bc I've always been staunchly against incest or pedophilia ships) and these people framed me as a transphobe and a transmasc fetishist

well obviously I'm a trans man now and I didn't know it at the time but those drawings were a way to explore my own relationship with gender. I even look like Stan and Ford now, obviously i latched on to them as trans men because I wanted to BE them. but I believed it when people called me a piece of shit, I assumed all trans people would despise me too and I'd committed a horrible sin and it forced me back in the closet for another 5 years.

the people doing this were teenagers at the time, a few I thought were my friends/mutuals, and they made that part of my life kinda miserable. I was already miserable with other shit going on in my life. I ignored most of the harassment to make myself uninteresting and to avoid the possibility of becoming a lolcow but it involved anonymous messages both on tumblr and curiouscat, I even got a few emails just mocking me. even in 2019 when some people were like "oh yeah she's moved on to moomin, this is what her art looks like now, I can't look at it without thinking about how much she loves rape :/" which was NEVER true!!! I liked Ford and Bill as bitter exes but it was always consensual in my mind.

Anyway I don't ever expect or even want an apology. I'm sure they don't realize what an effect that harassment had on me during literally the darkest years of my life. to them they were just teasing a weird girl on the internet for fun, or very seriously warning their friends against whom they'd been lied to about being an abuser, but I was a closeted trans man trying to finish college, my home life was abysmal and abusive, I hated myself, i hated my body, my only friends were online, and when I'd log on for some escapism I was met with another message like "hey, you should block this person. they're saying some really cruel things about you on their account. I know it's not true but it looks like some people are believing it."

gravity falls was so important to me as a show since oregon is my home and it felt so authentic to my own childhood being interested in cryptids and going camping and visiting shit like the Oregon vortex as a child. but the fandom was the worst I've ever been in. it ruined my enjoyment of media online for years. so idk. I guess I feel somewhat vindicated but it would also be nice to get those years back and not be harassed and bullied online about something so stupid and unimportant

[thestarlightforge]

TBOSAS Meta

This started as a couple-paragraphs-long Everlark & Coryo x Lucy Gray rant. It turned into an essay on the politics of systemic oppression and how we illustrate it in fiction, with The Hunger Games and Ballad as case studies. Regardless, I hope others enjoy, lol. This is where my brain lives, now, as I expect it will the rest of 2023. Cheers!

***

It’s been interesting, the last few days, some of the discourse that’s popped up around TBOSAS. FASCINATING political discussions, as I’ve come to expect for a Suzanne Collins release. (#1 in my heart.)

Personally, I always separate books vs. movie canon with her franchise. With the OG Hunger Games, sometimes I felt the films were better—like she got another pass at it and REALLY took advantage, and utilized the hell out of taking it out of Katniss’s first-person POV to develop other characters and the world (still without detracting from her narrative)—while for some details, I preferred the books.

With TBOSAS, though, the book and movie feel almost entirely different to me.

There are MANY shared elements, of course, and I feel either version gels quite nicely with the OG franchise. It’s not even that there’s that many continuity differences—some things cut or altered for time, sure, but the bones of the plot are the same. Both illustrate astute political commentary, Coriolanus’s descent into madness, Tigris’s shift in position on him (foreshadowing her full turn by Mockingjay), and Lucy Gray’s role in his life in both his initial downfall and his defeat by Katniss. The actors and creative team all did BEAUTIFUL work bringing it to life, and I honestly love both versions.

But fans who mainly like the book may be frustrated by the sympathy Coryo garners in the film.

Normally, I’d say this is because the book reveals more internal monologue—and it does. But honestly, one of the things I was most impressed by in this film was how legible the actors’ internal monologues were. It was clear, the amount of work they all did to that end. So I don’t know that it is just more. I think it’s also different.

Book Coriolanus devolves much earlier and more obviously. He starts from the same pressed circumstances and has moments of goodness, but he becomes the villain we know him eventually to be pretty damn fast.

Film-Coriolanus has a much slower descent. Ironic, honestly, given the film has far less time than the book does.

I think as a result of this, I’ve seen discourse comparing beats in his relationship with Lucy Gray to Katniss and Peeta. For example, that beautifully shot/choreographed/performed scene in TBOSAS with him and Lucy Gray on either side of the fence after the bombings that night, where they almost kiss and he asks her, “Is this real? If I’m going to risk everything?” being compared to Peeta’s long game of “real or not real” throughout Mockingjay. Everlark folks (rightfully) pointing out that for Peeta, the refrain is about shared trauma, especially between him and Katniss, and both of them grounding their relationship in mutual trust—while asserting that for Coryo, the same refrain comes from a place of selfishness.

I get where this opinion comes from: President Snow is probably one of the most violent, sadistic, genocidal dictators in modern popular fiction. His relationship with Lucy Gray started as transactional—even more acutely in the book. Nearly everything Book-Coryo does is for his or his family’s personal gain.

But to me, half the beauty and tragedy of the film is this delicious possibility—the hope—they showed us.

THG has always had a strong anti-war philosophy in general, with through-line commentary on showmanship, propaganda, surveillance and performance: The recurrent themes of cameras always bring on them, the arenas and entirety of Panem being a stage/game—and how those things impact authentic human relationships. Everlark hit for so many because of the ways authenticity bloomed out of that hellish, contrived pit. Coriolanus and Lucy Gray’s relationship started out similarly contrived: Thrown together by the politics of the Academy, the uprising, the districts, the Capitol and the Games—helping one another survive. Largely unlike Katniss and Peeta, they both played the game intentionally, to varying degrees. (Personality wise, these four really have almost nothing in common, lol.) Lucy Gray is a good person, both in the end and from her start (unlike the terrorist Coriolanus becomes). But she is a performer. He’s right about that.

So honestly, I don’t see much purpose in reading Peeta’s question as valid while Coryo’s wasn’t. I think that judgment is colored by dramatic irony—us knowing who they each become. But in theatre, we talk about living honestly in imagined circumstances. It’s used in a lot of acting techniques, but particularly for people playing villains. To stay grounded in the truth of it, you have to believe honestly in the imagined moment, not the gestalt; Leslie Odom Jr. was a great Aaron Burr because every performance, he believed in the whole journey, from hope to ruin. Tom Blythe was a great Coryo because he invested in the earnest reality of Snow as a young man, not the devil we know he becomes. And at that point in the story, at the cages that night with Lucy Gray, Coriolanus was honestly grounded in similar struggles as our OG heroes: Trying to provide for and protect his starving family. His family (and the Capitol at large) reeks of privilege, and his prejudices were obviously flawed. But in his developing love for her, he was steeped in starvation, the same political forces as lashed all citizens of Panem, and was clawing his way from beneath just as much Capitol propaganda as people from the Districts—perhaps even more so, given his Grandma’am and how his father died. Because of their given circumstances, politics bled into everything—but eventually, so did feeling, and they had several moments of genuine bonding, trust and connection which the actors invested in beyond their political need for each other. There’s a constant push and pull: Holding hands at the zoo for the cameras was political; her reaching for his hand in the arena visit was less so. The first “Stop treating me like I’ve already lost” in front of everyone was wit-soaked survival, while “Please don’t let me die in that arena tomorrow,” near-whispered and with hands held between them where the camera would struggle to see, bled into real vulnerability. Saving him from the other tributes in the cage-ride to the zoo was about survival; risking her life to go back for him when the arena was bombed was at least a mix. Her motivations for singing in her interview are complex—perhaps guilt that a “rebel” attack nearly killed Coriolanus, his advice she’d get the most money that way—but I feel strongly that a non-zero amount of her was motivated by wanting to demonstrate that she trusts him, which for her is even higher-prized than love. And I also feel that, after the hospital and her “final performance”—leading up to their near-kiss at the zoo—Coriolanus scoped out the arena (and ultimately took all those risks to help her cheat the Games) both because he wanted the Plinth prize, in theory, and because he increasingly desperately wanted her to live.

The waters between them were thoroughly, legitimately muddied—which I believe was intentional, that constant tension between authenticity and politics. And as much as he was falling for her, Coriolanus saw that Lucy Gray was just as clever and good at crowd-work as he was—maybe better.

So to circle all the way back to this Everlark comparison: Given the absurdly multilayered situation, is it really that selfish or unreasonable he would check in with her during that moment through the fence? That this child—wrapped in oppressive patriarchy, violence, starvation and propaganda—would ask for reassurance before he was willing to be vulnerable, or to potentially risk his family’s lives?

Some artists are hesitant to engage with the humanity of “villains,” their origins, because they feel humanizing them excuses them. In real life, I get this: Second chances aren’t always the answer, and people need to be held accountable. But isn’t it more powerful storytelling to demonstrate the corrosive nature of all systems of oppression in our fiction, to show how they can corrupt even those who try, than to condemn people before they’ve even had a chance? Isn’t the beauty of Lucy Gray’s whole thing that everyone starts out good, and it’s our job to choose to stay on the right side of that line?

And when President Coriolanus Snow finally chokes on his last rose, wouldn’t it be a more satisfying victory if we imagined him as a real-feeling person—full owner of sixty years of horrifying choices—rather than a cartoonishly evil cardboard cutout?

Book-Coryo has a more obviously manipulative/evil streak, much earlier on. To make it plain: He’s an ass, and his “love” for her reads more like obsession. But my favorite aspect of the film (and I feel one of the most compelling) was how it illustrated that these systems of oppression can make tragedies of almost anyone: All but those at the very, very top. Suzanne’s anti-capitalist politicking—how classism turns everyone below the 1% against each other, where the “upper middle class” (doctors/lawyers/actors) is vilified to the poor as a red herring while a handful of robber-baron CEOs amass almost all wealth on the planet—strikes again. She, Francis Lawrence, the film’s creative team and these actors came together to put tragically human faces on that struggle—how hard it is to stay a good person amidst intense, violent, systemic oppression.

But none of that sings quite as true if you go into it having decided that Coriolanus was evil in his bones. The stakes are so much higher, richer, otherwise. If his love—for Tigris, for his family, for Sejanus, and yes, for Lucy Gray—was, or became, authentic.

It’s not a descent into madness if he’s already mad. Or, as he put it in the original Hunger Games film: “Hope. It is the only thing stronger than fear.”

[waitmyturtles]

Hot Take: Be On Cloud and Sammon out GMMTV-ed GMMTV with that lame-ass 4 Minutes finale

(TW: Ummm, this ended up being a rant, so don't read this if you enjoyed that finale.)

WOW.

This is not the central thesis of this post at all, but I need to get this off my chest, FIRST OF AWL: GET AN ORIGINAL OST. WOW.

LIKE, ACTUALLY, I want to not get into this, but I actually need to talk about this for a second. ICONIC OSTs like, SAY, "Why Don't You Stay" or "Just Friend" (OR THE DARK BLUE KISS THEME SONG, THE BEST ONE) are meant to invoke THE SHOW FROM WHICH THAT SONG HAILS, AND THE FEELINGS THAT THAT PARTICULAR SHOW MADE ONE FEEL. WHAT THE FUCK WAS 4 MINUTES THINKING?! THIS SHOW WAS NOT KINNPORSCHE. NOT AT ALL. I FELT NO KP FROM 4 MINUTES. I hope Jeff Satur sues BOC for copyright infringement. ANYWAY.

I mean, this is gonna be messy, but in yet another case of shippy roooooomance, a kind of rooooomance that's supposed to leave us feeling like the central couple is worth redeeming against both the obstacles that the story gives them, AND/OR a weak script as well (I wrote about this recently during a rewatch of The Eclipse), I mean, BOC and Sammon just threw an otherwise really amazing storyline to the dogs.

We were supposed to get a lot of moral and ethical loops closed here. I would have been okay with a Ton Kla redemption! I would have been okay with Korn living the rest of his life in pain and suffering for neglecting Ton Kla! Instead, they're both "redeemed" by their own deaths?! I get Win being upset, but Win, you knew who you were sleeping with! Come awn!

AND. I'm supposed to believe that Great is worth redemption because he threw a corrupt government minister under the bus and prevented his parents from coming back to Thailand, while we see him walking away from a woman having a heart attack???? Like, THAT'S NOT GOOD!!!! He's had a messy life, but he's not necessarily a good person, folks!!! HELLO!!! "He's a good person?!" TYME?? Like, Great's hot, BUT LIKE, DON'T BE LIKE THAT, TYME, GURL, ACTUALLY LOOK THRU AT WHO YOU'RE DATING.

ALSO, TYME, HIPPOCRATIC OATH, DUDE. I KNOW YOU WANT THAT GUY DEAD, AND HE DESERVES BAD THINGS, BUT YOU CAN'T MAIM HIM PURPOSELY, HOMEY, YOU'RE ABOUT TO BECOME A PROFESSOR.

And LIKE, WHAT THE FUCK, putting a whole new story point about Warit's kidnapping from some dude named Wanchai who we don't even know, and finding out that Warit is a general?!?! It was JUST CONFUSING.

Also, Den dating a patient. I know medical ethics are probably different in Thailand, but they cannot be THAT DIFFERENT, friends, they can't (right? right?).

And. Finally. TYME GOT SHOT MULTIPLE TIMES IN THE CHEST AREA. He survived after two months of recovery?! HE SURVIVED POINT-BLANK SHOOTING?!?!?!??!?!?! AND GREAT SURVIVED HIS POINT-BLANK SHOOTING, TOO?!?!?!?!

LISTEN. LISTEN. I get that BOC wants GreatTyme together. JesBible are a good pair. It's fine Great and Tyme are together. It's nice.

But there was an ACTUAL storyline, told WONDERFULLY for seven episodes, that had these characters in moral and ethical chokeholds that could have received different and very much more appropriate endings. This is fiction, of course, but the moral and ethical prisons these characters were in were very real-to-life by way of what humans value, and how you balance those values against the real-time decisions that humans need to make for themselves and their families.

Instead, BOC took the wild GMMTV playbook of late (The Eclipse, 23.5, Only Friends, Wandee Goodday, even Last Twilight and My Precious) and just railroaded ethical explorations for, my GAWD, guitars and boats. GUITARS AND BOATS! If either Great or Tyme had died, how would the story have expressed regret, uncommunicated feelings, unsolved mysteries?

The ending sucked the mystery out of this series, and frankly, made light of the fact that we were not in a Series Y for seven-eighths of a runtime, only to truly suck us back into Y territory -- real, sugary, cheesy Y territory, GUITARS, THE KP OST OMG -- that just clashed with the tonality of what was shaping up to be a great queer crime murder mystery show. GMMTV already does this. BOC did not need to go there.

Funny that some of us are watching Kidnap now, and commenting (I'm stealing @shortpplfedup's words here) that Kidnap is not a crime BL, but a crime BL. Kidnap knows what it is: it is shaping up to be a fun, unserious Y series that's centered around two himbos not really understanding the consequences of their decisions, and being googly while doing it. It seems to be taking its unseriousness seriously. Good on GMMTV for taking initiative there.

4 Minutes? 4 Minutes needs moral closure, not sappy romance. I could have used a hint that we were gonna get punked earlier. I wouldn't have taken this show as seriously as I did if I had known otherwise.