#i will fuck w them as much as i can. i hate them. i only wish the worst of hell and suffering upon these fucking pieces of shits

[wow-thisismylifeiguess]

Sentient Gotham

- Bruce regularly chats w her. Like, full blown conversations. He can see a physical manifestation of her like she’s right in front of him, but completely invisible to everyone else

- Zatanna does not believe him. She’s Gotham born and bred and a powerful magician, but she cannot sense a living breathing Gotham the way Bruce claims he can

- Constantine does believe him, but it’s mostly to spite Zatanna

- Gotham calls herself Bruce’s mom and frequently whines about him not calling her that

> “I had a mother. And a father. They’re both dead.” > “WHEN WILL YOU STOP BLAMING ME FOR THAT?!” > “When I’m convinced it’s not true.”

- Bruce’s kids also don’t believe him about the whole ‘I talk to Gotham’ thing for a long time and think he’s either lost his mind, he’s schizophrenic, or that he’s fucking w them

- they do eventually see and speak to her themselves

- Jason first sees her right before his death, which was an incredibly difficult task for her. It’s a combination of reasons. 1) like Bruce, Jason is a Gotham City native and has deep ties to the city, 2) he has deep ties to Bruce, 3) she was also there to comfort Bruce because she knew he wouldn’t be fast enough. But Jason sees this gorgeous woman who cradles his cheek and murmurs soft words to him that he’ll only end up remembering many years later

> “Your father loves you. He tried. So please don’t hate him. It’s my fault, not his.”

- Bruce frequently wonders why it’s him who can see her and no one else, to which she always just says it’s because he’s her son

- Bruce’s connection to Gotham…changes him. He is human, at least…mostly. But there’s an otherworldliness to him that grows over the years which he’s stupidly oblivious to for a very long time

- Gotham has beef w Alfred purely because he’s British

> “I could’ve raised you better than that man!” > “I do not tolerate disrespect for Alfred.” > whining, “But babyyyyyy. He’s an outsider!”

- she adores Bruce’s kids and frequently whines about how they don’t believe she’s real. But at the same time, Bruce is her absolute beloved

- after Jason’s death, she’s the one who basically sends Tim Bruce’s way to stop his self destructive behavior. Tim had been taking pictures of Batman and Robin for a while, but Gotham had fogged over his mind just a little bit to prevent him from putting the pieces together about their identity. When she stops, it finally clicks for Tim and it’s what leads him to becoming Robin

- the kids all have their moment when they finally can see and speak to her. It happens at different times, but the important reason as to why they’re able to do so is due to their relationship to Bruce and the length of time they’ve been around him. It comes at the moment where they’ve reached optimal and absolute trust in Bruce

- Bruce does actually call her ‘mom’, but it happened once and she will never let him forget it

> Bruce getting worked up during a conversation w Gotham in front of Dick and Tim > “Dick….who is he talking to?” > “You don’t want to know.” > “My mom won’t stop badgering me- No. No. I didn’t say that. I didn’t call you that! You can’t prove anything!”

- Gotham comforts Bruce often when he feels like he’s not enough. His failures weigh heavy in his heart, but she’s always there to talk him through it

> “Why me? Why am I the one you picked? I’m not enough. I never will be.” > “You are and you always will be. Bruce, you do so much for this city. For me. For your family.” > “It’s not enough.” > “You are only mostly human, Bruce Wayne. You have done things no one else could ever hope to do. If any one else were in your position, they would not have nearly enough strength as you do.”

- several months later, after Bruce is just idly going over case files, he remembers the ‘mostly human’ part of what Gotham said to him. He’d glossed over it before in his depressive spiral, but now he’s like !?

> “Gotham….” > “Yes, my dear?” > “‘Mostly human’. Care to explain what that means?” > awkward laugh, “Uh…..” > “Gotham.” > “I didn’t do it on purpose! I had no control!” > “Gotham.”

- order of who sees Gotham:

Bruce (obviously)

Jason (first time)

Tim

Duke

Jason (second time)

Steph

Dick

Cass

Damian

- the last three take a while but mostly because they’re not Gotham natives. Dick’s a little bitter about it because he practically spent his entire life in Gotham

> “You’re a traitor.” > “WHAT DID I DO?” > disgust, “Blüdhaven.” > “Oh. Whoops.”

- While Gotham is Bruce’s #1 Supporter™️, she is at times critical of his behavior and decisions. Particularly about things that damage his relationship w loved ones and things that he chooses to do in order to hurt himself

- she finds ‘Brucie’ to be distasteful

> “I didn’t raise you to be a whore.” > “You didn’t raise me to begin with.” > “STOP DENYING ME PARENTAL RIGHTS!”

- Gotham is, obviously, restricted to only appear within Gotham City’s borders. She’s only able to break through that restriction a handful of times, w the first being when Jason dies. There are a few other instances and she’s popped up on the Watchtower and jumpscared Bruce by accident. The JL were very confused and incredibly amused

- She’s able to take on the form of anyone, but sticks to a unique appearance of a woman w long black hair and pale skin. Her eyes are white and she’s typically dressed in a suit

> young Bruce, in awe, “You kind of look like me if I were cooler.” > “You’re plenty cool, Bruce.” > adult Bruce, tired, “Why are you in a suit?” > “Because I look cool, Bruce. You said so yourself.” > “I was ten!”

- she once offered to take on the appearance of his mother and Bruce shot it down so fast. She never brought it up again

- when Clark found out about her, he believed Bruce immediately. He’s the only one Bruce ever told who believed him right off the bat

> “You…don’t think I’m insane?” > “I do.” > “Then why would you lie and say you believe me?” > “Because I do. You’re insane about a lot of things, Bruce. But you sounded too serious when you told me about this, so why would I ever think you’re lying?”

- Gotham begrudgingly likes Clark

> “You hate Alfred for being an outsider, but Clark is in your good graces?” > “He’s an alien. It’s different.” > “He’s also from Metropolis.” > “Shhhhhh, don’t remind me. I’m trying to be blissfully ignorant.”

[sangwookisser]

⭒TENSIONS ARE RISING - RAFE CAMERON II⭒

cw. football! rafe, college rafe, enemies to lovers, breakups, female reader in mind, objectification of reader by rafe, no use of y/n, porn w/ plot, unprotected sex, missionary, implications of cucking, choking, french kissing, creampies

synopsis: second and final part of my mini-series. Rafe Cameron gets his hands on the ex-girlfriend of his rival.

part one

You gasp into his mouth as his lips slot over yours, your heart rate spiking to speed so unnatural that you feel like you're going to die. He moves one hand onto your throat to keep you in place and prevent you from running.

"R-Rafe, mmh," You try to protest, but the way you say his name doesn't do anything but make him a lot more eager. He moans into your mouth in response.

You try to push at his arms and chest and scratch at any inch of his bare skin that you can get your hands on, but it seems futile. He smiles against your lips, his hands roaming your body like he can't seem to pick just one spot in favor over all the other plush, soft curves of your body.

Rafe feels like he's dreaming. He's finally got you in his arms, with his body and mouth on you, and he can hardly think straight. His fingers graze up your thigh, his palm smoothing over your hips, your waist, then back down again. Squeezing. Mapping out the curves he’s only ever stared at before.

"Kept telling your stupid little boyfriend that I'd make you mine, princess." He grunts against your mouth, sounding breathless. "Told him I'd get him out of the ngh- fucking way."

Your lips are soft and warm on his, and when you let out tiny, breathless little gasps against his mouth, he grabs you tighter, slotting his thigh between your legs as he holds you against the door, pushing it right against your core.

You want to tell him that you're not his, that you're still wearing the necklace with your boyfriend's initials around your neck, but you can't get a word out.

He groans into the kiss, deep and satisfied, like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can possibly sate him.

His grip tightens as his hand slides up your neck, his thumb pressing lightly against your pulse, squeezing just enough for your brain to feel foggy. He's too much, and you whimper faintly, the sound leaving you involuntarily.

You can't tell if you want this or not, but your brain isn't functioning rationally right now and your fight or flight instinct is nowhere to be found.

His palm is hot against your skin, his fingers curling just enough to remind you he’s got you, that he’s keeping you here.

The other hand is already moving lower. You feel it glide down your spine, over the plush globes of your ass, slipping into the waistband of your shorts with ease. "This what you wanted? For me to snap and put my hands all over you?"

He squeezes your butt, his tongue moving sloppily over yours. "Mmf... R-rafe, I d-didn't..." He cuts off your babbling by tugging your panties back and snapping them onto your skin to make you jump and squeak, while he takes the opportunity to shove his tongue even deeper in your mouth.

You hate how your knees go weak when he kisses you. His lips are soft and wet and God, he's a good kisser, but you have to remind yourself who he is. How he's treated you, and your ex.

Your stomach tightens, and you snap out of the fuzzy haze clouding your brain and realizing that you're kissing the same guy who's tormented you and your ex-boyfriend so much that he ended things with you.

He’s smirking against your lips, and that just makes you angrier. You bite down on his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss, to taste a hint of copper, and he finally pulls back, a thin string of saliva connecting your mouths. "Get the hell off me, Cameron," You snap, even though every part of you yearns for more. You're reeling.

"Ah fuck, you're feisty," he murmurs, licking his lips. "Didn’t know you liked it rough," Rafe purrs, fingers tightening around your hips, pulling you closer again, pressing you right up against him. "Knew there was a little freak in you."

He brings a thumb up to his mouth, smearing away the small drop of blood you left behind, and instead of getting mad, he grins. Like he likes it.

Like he wants you to do it again.

"Shut your mouth." You pant out, your lips swollen, your pulse hammering. You throw his hand off your face, clenching your own into fists. "I came here to set boundaries, not have you kiss me."

You need to put distance between you, but his hands keep finding your body, gripping your waist, your ass, still crowding your space like he owns it.

Your nails dig into his arms, but he only chuckles, dragging his mouth down, sloppy and wet against the corner of your lips, down your jaw, teasing your pulse point before sucking lightly—just enough to make your stomach flip.

You try to shut your legs, but he pushes further against your clothed pussy, the thin fabric of your shorts doing little to obscure the feeling of the hard plane of his knee bumping against your pussy. Your head leans back, and you whine breathlessly, angry at how easily he can toy with you like this and you just let him.

Even now, even through the haze of your frustration and anger and hatred, his sharp jaw, the curve of his lips, the way his darkened blue eyes drink you in like he wants to devour you. He’s so pretty.

And he knows you think so.

"That little head of yours is spinning, huh?" he murmurs, tilting his head, watching you. "S’cute how you try to fight it. Try to fight me."

His thumb strokes slow over your butt, his lips brushing the corner of your mouth, his breath hot against your cheek. "Tell me to stop," he whispers, his voice dropping even lower, rougher, something dangerous curling in it now. "Tell me you don’t want me, that you want nothing to do with me, and I’ll back off. Just say the words."

Your lips part, but nothing comes out. Your throat feels tight, like something thick and unbearable is lodged there, suffocating you from the inside out. Your body isn’t listening to you. Every muscle, every nerve feels like it’s wrapped in honey, warm, sticky, trapping you in place.

"No?" He beams, little dimples gracing his cheeks. He grins smugly. "Don't say I didn't warn you, princess."

Is the last thing he says, before he hoists you into his arms and away from the front door.

Your necklace is finally off you.

Thrown into the trashcan beside Rafe's bed, he's got you folded in half with your knees almost completely pushed against your ears, while he holds you open by your plump thighs, his cock splitting you open.

He takes his time, each inch of his thick, veiny cock stretching your gooey walls with deliberate slowness. The wet, obscene squelches of his cock filling you and bottoming out slowly fills the room as he thrusts so deep inside you that your mind is starting to feel foggy.

"Oh, look at you." Rafe grins, his voice smooth and soft like he's speaking to a lover. "Hate me, you said? Could of fooled me, the way your greedy little pussy's sucking me in like she's trying to swallow my dick whole."

You nudge his hands off your face and push your arms are over your face to hide the way that it's contorted in pleasure. Showing him how good you feel won't do anything but prove how he's won against you yet again. He grunts in annoyance when you hide your face, and he draws back.

Withdrawing until just the tip of his cock remains nestled inside you, he slowly, torturously pushes back in until your pussy and guts stretch obscenely around his girth, wet, squelching sounds filling the room.

"You can hide all you want, princess." He murmurs, still thrusting into you slowly. "Your pussy knows the truth. Knows who it belongs to."

"I d-don't belong to you, idiot."

Rafe pauses at your words, almost amused at your backtalk. He likes when you give him attitude. Gives him a reason to be mean to you.

He pushes your legs open impossibly wider, nearly bending you in half with your legs up against your chest.

"You keep saying shit like that like it's going to get me mad." He laughs softly, before groaning with pleasure. "Maybe I get off to brats, princess, ever thought of that?"

You bite your lower lip so hard that it hurts to hide any noise you're making. If you lifted your head, you'd see the faint outline of his cock in your tummy and the way your pussy struggles to accommodate for his size, and the look of rapt fascination on his flushed cheeks.

He pays no mind to your attempts at modesty, too focused on the wet, sloppy sounds of his cock churning up your insides. He sets a slow, punishing rhythm, pulling out until just the tip remained inside you before slamming back in, burying himself to the hilt with a filthy squelch.

"Fuck, your cunt is soaking my dick," Rafe taunts. His cock churns up your soaked, velvety walls with each roll of his hips, your pussy clenching around him like a vice as you desperately attempt to adjust to his size.

You’re shaking, fingers curling into fists in the sheets underneath you. You’re not sure how much more you can take. He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks in a low, taunting murmur.

"Bet you're worried about me creaming in this hot little pussy, huh?"

Your head finally leaves the crook of your arms to stare up at him in disbelief. Your whole body locks up, heat flashing through your tummy. "Yo-you wouldn't, I w-wouldn't let you," Rafe uses the opportunity of you moving your arms to grab both your wrists in one hand and pin them over your head, his free hand still holding your thigh.

"Yeah you would." He shoots back, almost aggravated at your tone. "You'd let me. You know why? Because you like me real bad. You're just too pussy to admit it."

He notches the tip at your entrance, slowing his thrusts, before slamming forward and forcing his girthy shaft deep inside you. “God,” He groans. “Pussy’s so fuckin’ good. Squeezing me like you don’t want me to go anywhere.” 

You moan out, but this time, he forces you to keep eye contact, and his gaze flicks between the way your small, fluttering hole stretches wide to accommodate his length, and the way your face is scrunched with tears tracking your cheeks and your lips raw from biting as he shoves his cock in you. 

The lewd, sloppy sounds of your cunt being split open fill the room as he impales you repeatedly, not stopping his thrust until his swollen, heavy balls rest against your ass.

Rafe continues his relentless, sloppy assault, each thrust accompanied by the most vulgar noises. The obscene slap of skin on skin echoes through the room as he fucks you with deep, purposeful strokes. Your body jolts with every impact, tits bouncing lewdly as you try to stifle your cries.

He changes his angle slightly, and your tummy coils up tight into a knot as you feel your orgasm come crashing down, your back arching sharply off the bed. He knows he found that sweet spot deep inside you as your toes curl and your eyes roll back.

Rafe focuses his thrusts there, grinding against it with every push forward, determined to make you fall apart completely on his cock, and you let out a final strangled cry as you cum around him.

He rocks you through your orgasm, still hitting that gummy spot that makes you sing so pretty that his heart throbs. 

"I wish that pathetic ex of yours was here," he muses, voice dripping with cruel amusement. "I wish he could see me ruining his girl, see me taking what's rightfully mine. I bet he'd love a front-row seat to watch me breed his bitch."

Your pussy, now overstimulated and sloppy from your recent orgasm, throbs with sensitivity. “R-rafe, please, please, it’s too much,” You cry out, and he coos at your pretty sounds, ignoring you. 

"Too bad for him, ain't it?” He continues. “This cunt belongs to me now. You belong to me. Say it. Say who’s pussy this is.”

Your sloppy cunt swallows his thick cock over and over, your lips, swollen, clinging to his cock tightly. Squelches and sloppy lewdness fill the air as he plows into you, each thrust pushing out a fresh gush of your cum. The creamy ring of your hole stretches and bulges around his girthy shaft, struggling to contain the thick cock splitting you open. “Ah! Yours, Rafe! Y-your pussy, I’m yours!” 

He could feel your cervix fluttering against the tip of his cock, the spongy flesh yielding to his pounding. “That’s my girl, baby. All mine,” He grunts one last time as your womb clenches and ripples, ready for the hot cum he was going to pump inside you.

He lets out a strangled moan as he empties inside you, balls twitching as he fills you to the brim with his cum. It’s thick and creamy and never ending, and his head lolls, hips still pumping as he fills you up good.

The room is quiet except for the sound of your ragged breathing, the distant hum of the city beyond the windows. Your body is still trembling, skin fever hot and slick against his, and yet he hasn’t moved an inch. He’s still there, stretched out on top of you, pinning you down.

Rafe exhales, deep and satisfied, before letting out a slow, almost disbelieving chuckle.

“Fuck,” he murmurs, dragging a hand through his damp hair. His voice is rough, like he’s been screaming, like you did that to him. “Knew you’d be good, but damn, baby.”

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your throat is too tight, your mind too hazy, floating somewhere between reality and whatever that was.

Rafe turns his head, smirking at the dazed, wrecked look on your face. He reaches out, running a slow finger down your jaw, tilting your chin up so you have to meet his gaze. His pupils are still blown, his mouth swollen from you.

“Gonna let me keep you now, princess? Or do you need another round for me to convince you?”

[luck-of-the-drawings]

[<==PREV PAGES] [NEXT PAGE==>(not out yet.wait a year.or maybe more.imagine.]

saw alot of comments on prev pages; saying 'i HATE that mean teacher! im gonna FIGHT HIM!!' & i LOVE the energy!! it WOULD be nice. to have that catharsis. but the story of young tidestrider is Not one of catharsis. it is a story of being so small and so special and sucking so bad.

[pinkfey]

me when the boy savior the boy saved everyone: 🤯🤯🤯

[treatsformeeko]

i actually really like the idea of rivalmance following the treviso/minrathous choice now. i think it would 1) help to dissuade the hate neve gets for ending up with a nonromanced lucanis, because the choice between the two cities from a gameplay perspective feels imbalanced and the romance lockout is perhaps the biggest actual in game consequence (barring anything said about the blight in AMAs because what are you talking about)

but more importantly 2) it would be more INTERESTING!! yeah yeah yeah the power of love is great but it is less great when the player is quite literally told by the game that they NEED to love their companions or they’ll all die!!! i dont know about you but i find that i don’t often love my friends out of obligation or proximity; i love their company, their personality, etc etc. and not being able to choose who my character (especially if i am meant to be seeing them as an extension of myself) likes and dislikes really takes the magic out of the roleplay experience. let me fall in love with someone who will never forgive me but cant seem to let me go anyways. let me hate my coworkers AND still save the world with them (!!!) because my appraisal of their personality has nothing to do with their competence or their being deserving of life

[rosykims]

hes such a girls girl <3

[cursed-spirit-manipulation]

jjk is about a lot of things but most of all with regard to Shoko Satoru and Suguru it's about how if you don't interact with people who aren't in your weird fucked up school with like 10 ppl total on a regular basis you WILL become an incredibly interesting adult in a way that makes people pity you

[gece-misin-nesin]

Regarding Batman and Responsibility: A Rant

So, whenever there is talk about the age old question of "Should Batman kill Joker?" there is always, and I mean always someone who says something along the lines of: "But it's not Batman's responsibility to kill Joker so it's wrong to put the burden onto him." and on the surface this seems like a reasonable argument. After all, there is a police department in gotham, there is a government, so shouldn't we hold them accountable as well? Well, not exactly.

(Warning: I probably mispelled responsibility and responsible a LOT in this post, please don't begrudge me for it.)

Of course, those institutions ARE responsible for the Joker to some degree but the real question, to me, is: why is Batman considered as "NOT responsible" when he very much is.

People who make this argument usually say: "Well Batman is a volunteer, a vigilante! This is practically none of his bussiness." And true, Bruce isn't required to be a vigilante, he does it entirely out of his own volition. But is that not the whole reason why he IS responsible? I mean, Bruce is the one who CHOSE to take up that responsibilty, he is the one who CHOSES to shoulder that burden. In that sense he isn't that different from a government official/cop/etc. those people do it of their on will too don't they? Bruce, day after day, year after year, choses to fight for Gotham, to protect it and its people; he takes those responsibilities onto himself and yet... stopping Joker somehow, isn't one of them?

In my opinion, it is hypocritical. Bruce is the one who says things like "Gotham is MY city" or "I don't allow metas in Gotham, you need MY permission." or "You can't operate as a vigilante in Gotham without my say-so."(Stephanie Brown, anyone?) he routinely describes his vigilantism as a "war on crime"(which, yikes) and calls it a "crusade" and says it is his "mission" no? He chooses to do these things all on his own, no one forces him to. At a certain point, it's a matter of integrity. He can't pick and choose what exactly constitutes to protecting Gotham and what doesn't. He can't decide that beating up muggers in the streets is extremely important and is his job while improving Arkham isn't. He can't decide that, despite putting Joker in Arkham over and over again knowing he's going to escape, he isn't at least partly responsible for Joker's future victims. He can't keep stopping people from killing Joker(Under the Red Hood, hello!), saving Joker from the death row, putting Joker into a Lazarus Pit, or saving him from natural disasters(because you KNOW he would) and then claim "Oh, but killing Joker isn't my responsibility." He can't willingly claim responsibility for Gotham in every other scenario, EXCEPT for that. That's just having your cake and trying to eat it too. Unless he decided that by saving Joker he is not actually harming Gotham, by allowing Joker to live he is actively NEGLECTING his mission, his duty. And anyway, I thought the whole point of superhero comics was that people with power to better things shoud use those powers to do exactly that. Batman DOES have the power to "better" Gotham, he just isn't using it.

"Killing Joker isn't Batman's responsibility." No, it is. Because protecting Gotham and its people IS his responsibility, as he took it onto himself. If he didn't want to deal with the consequences of such a thing then he shouldn't have become a vigilante in the first place.

Mind you, this doesn't mean he's the ONLY one responsible, far from it, just that he is.

(I genuinely don't remember whether I made a post on this before but I have ranted about this to myself outloud when alone multiple times and if I have to think about this so do you)

[And YES we all know the real reason is because Joker is DC's cashcow, that is not the point of this post...]

[getoo]

i'm scared i just made an appointment for the optician to try contact lenses but in order to do that i need to check my eyesight first and the last time i did was a bit over a year ago if it changed enough i need new glasses i'll probably cry

[bruiisedfawn]

🏠⊹ ࣪ ˖͙͘͡★

[kiwikiswia]

happy zefirengel visibility saturday can they die next update

[cringelordofchaos]

I just saw someone call Kyle a "spoiled brat who's parents let him have everything he wants" excuse me while I go resurrect the skeleton army

[pikachu-deluxe]

been thinking recently about how i play games (in general but also a bit on the competitive side on some)

turns out i don't particularly care about winning, i just want to have fun, but obviously i do like winning i just try to do win by doing very stupid stuff

it's way more fun for everyone involved when you do things against the meta or common sense and end up winning anyways bc it's so weird that it takes others by surprise

[moafleco]

i hate that duality that your mind can be your safe heaven that helps you get through some difficult things, keeps you going and brings you happiness at the worst of times. and at the very same time it could be your worst tormentor that won't let you rest and won't let you breathe, literally for no particular reason at all. and you can't leave or silence it. can't get it to stop when it gets dark in there. can't get the light in when you desperately need to feel a respite instead of suffocation.