#so don't take this as an insult or call out

[avelera]

Thank you for talking about how Viktor wouldn't be mean to Jayce! I do really agree that fandom really tries to boil them down to their basics or preexisting tropes and it really sucks to see people think he'd really insult Jayce or hit him with his cane. Something I started thinking about after I read that post is that so much of the cast are Zaunite and nearly every one of them are sharp-tongued, and so maybe that's why people think Viktor would be mean? But that doesn't really take into account his personality or how he might feel he has to present himself as someone from Zaun living in Piltover.

Yeah the "hitting with the cane" trope definitely feels OOC for him to me. I could maybe see him tapping or hooking Jayce to get his attention but... even then. We rarely see Viktor use his cane or crutch for anything but their intended purpose.

If I may extrapolate out, I find it notable that when he has the cane pre-time skip he leaves it aside when possible, like when standing at the blackboard, and tries to mask his disability. I know for many people with disabilities, they love their aids, and the aids given them freedom of movement and from pain, but I would venture to say that Viktor does not see his crutch or his cane all that favorably.

I think Viktor sees his disability aids as necessary indignities that he'd rather do without if he could. See how quickly he drops his crutch once he tests out being able to run post-experimentation. He probably only goes back and gets it, rather than abandoning it there, because he wants to continue to hide the experiments he's doing.

Combine that with Jayce noting how he saw his leg as a "weakness" and I think there is further evidence that Viktor sees his crutch or cane rather negatively.

Which is a roundabout way of saying, I don't think Viktor would use his crutch or his cane as a hook or a bludgeon against Jayce not only because he's arguably the most pacifistic character in the whole show, but also because I don't think he really likes using it or thinking about it for anything but its intended purpose of assisting his mobility. I think Jayce views Viktor's crutch more favorably than Viktor does, he sees it as a part of Viktor in a positive way, an extension of him.

As for the topic of Zaun, I do agree that I think some fics give Viktor more of a, hmm, "class consciousness" around Zaun than he's shown to have?

For example:

Viktor only ever calls it "the undercity" in S1. Calling it Zaun at all is something that radicals like Silco do, it's even implied that Silco is kind of resurrecting a long-dead name for the area as part of his separatist movement, so it might not even be in wide use beyond Silco's circles, like Viktor may not have even really heard of it as a common term in S1. In addition, if "Zaun" is a politically charged term, I wouldn't be surprised if Viktor would avoid calling it that at all, because he's not a separatist or a radical, he's just from there and he thinks of it as "the undercity". Viktor is not shown as someone from the undercity who really wants to rock the boat in Piltover politically and he's certainly not a separatist, he wants to help the undercity as a disadvantaged community within Piltover.

The only time I think we see Viktor call it "Zaun" is somewhat in the abstract in S2, when he admires Vander's vision for "Zaun as it could have been". To me, it felt like he was discussing Zaun as a distant ideal rather than as the place where he was currently located or a political identity he identified with. He admires that other people who are more political than him had a cohesive vision for something the undercity that Viktor knows could become.

Viktor is actually incredibly apolitical, which is interesting when you consider he was assistant to Heimerdinger, who was head of the Council. He considers Jayce's time as a Councilor a "waste of our time", it never even occurs to him to use that political power to improve lives in the undercity, instead of science. In general Viktor tends to be pretty blind to other discipline besides science when it comes to bettering the world, and is even dismissive of them, which I think is a bit narrow-minded of him to be honest.

Viktor's dismissiveness towards anything that isn't science when it comes to improving lives is certainly a factor in how his and Jayce's relationship becomes strained in S1, he never sees Jayce's work as a Councilor as potentially offering a broader avenue for achieving their goals to help the undercity, not once, which is actually rather baffling and interesting that he has this blindspot (possibly because of my theory that at a certain point in S1, once he knows he's rapidly dying, Viktor is only using "helping the undercity" as a smokescreen to others but mostly himself to cover up his shame for the fact he really just wants to use Hextech to save himself while the undercity has become secondary, but he doesn't want to admit that. That also explains his shame when he sees Sky's notes and realizes he's been trying to save himself to the exclusion of all else, that he's lost sight of his larger goals and dreams.)

Even when Viktor starts the cult in the undercity, it's not a politically motivated enclave, he doesn't describe it as part of a Zaunite movement. It really is just posed as a refuge for those in need, separate entirely I would argue from the Piltover vs. Zaun conflict, unlike Ekko's Firelights who provide shelter AND do community action and freedom fighting. Indeed, Viktor heals Salo, a Councilor, the most privileged of the privileged from Piltover. I'd argue this is an additional sign that he is "colorblind" when it comes to the conflict between the two cities.

Finally, I would argue that Viktor is from a generation that somewhat precedes the class conflicts and brewing civil war between Piltover and the undercity. I think he's from a generation where the cities were still linked enough that they were more like the "good" and the "bad" side of the tracks. He was smart enough to get out and make something of himself in the big city, he has a goal of helping to uplift those he left behind, but he sees them as one city still even if he has sympathy later for a separatist movement. The way he talks about the undercity to me feels less like a separate entity and more a particular disadvantaged community within Piltover.

Anyway, I've gone off on like three crazy wild tangents based on your reply. Thank you so much! I'm glad you enjoyed that post! And I agree, of all the Zaunites, Viktor is actually quite different from the others and that is really interesting to explore!

[harmonysanreads]

hi harmy its me :3c ur son

anyways yeah,,, im back with brainrot,,,

and more about ouppy phainon!!! something about mighty warriors melting when you call them good boy scratches my brain in such a way YOU HAVE NO IDEAAA i will never forgive you for enabling this thought process btw this is all your fault /silly

AND AND AND,,, kitty anaxa,,,,, smirks i need to pet him vigorously until he gets annoyed and tries to bite my hand YOU GET ME,,, but it never works bc i will simply coo and pet him harder and call him even more obnoxious nicknames until he is forced to give up and accept my pets

petpetpetpetpetpetpetpet forever and ever and ever

You'll not deny, you've scarcely pondered the true weight of your position, your power.

At unpredictable intervals, between the pauses of your fingers weaving through his hair, in the shade away from the light of his gaze — it crosses your mind, briefly. That the hands that cling to the ends of your garbs are of no ordinary man, the voice that prays your name is not one that'll be ignored in a crowd.

That despite how much he places himself beneath the shadow of reverence, the light of devotion in Phainon's eyes will remain ever incendiary.

“Tired?” you guess, cautious. He responds by burrowing deeper in your lap, his knees stop just before your ankles.

Your eyes settle on the tufts of ivory hair, they shy away as soon as your grip softens. It would not seem so to an eye that hasn't observed, but there is always a reason behind this particular behavior of his. Sensing his unwillingness to speak, you see fit to use your last option.

“Who's a good boy?” a zephyr carries to his ear, the sun peeks from behind translucent clouds.

“Me?” you can feel his nails dig into the hem of your chiton, his breaths at a halt — it'll gladly remain so until you command.

Your eyes search for a trace of your answer among the torches that light his abode, unsatisfied, “Where is my good boy?”

His clothes rustle as he straightens his back, before leaning fully towards your lap, “Here.” his admission is firmer than last time.

His eyes close in relief as you reward him by patting his head, much pleased at this development. You don't allow the sigh of solace to escape from the confines of your throat, indulging this interlude from the sun's attention.

Your eyes follow the journey of your fingers ; dodging the corner of his eyes, brushing past his cheeks, dipping towards the arch of his neck. Phainon cannot resist joining your observation, as your finger traces the gold of the choker wrapped around his neck, the tip of your nail teases the skin — before you withdraw altogether.

You laugh at your own trickery, not courageous enough to look back at Phainon's face.

Your indulgence is stopped short as you feel a familiar grip around your wrists, clasping wholly onto your palms and settling them back on Phainon's face.

Unlike before, there is strength in that grip — not enough to hurt, just enough to serve as a reminder of how worse it can get. You find your throat parched when you swallow, there's a veiled warning in those eyes of his.

Do you dare still, to wield this dangerous weapon?

“You really remind me of a cat, did you know?” you probe at the brooding scholar.

Anaxa takes a moment to digest the new piece of information, he's heard several unflattering monikers throughout his life. This one, even his brilliant mind nearly toppled over trying to decipher.

“That is quite insulting,” he mutters, glancing at you pointedly.

“How so?” you but lean over the tree, light dancing across your pupils.

“You're comparing a scholar and no ordinary scholar at that, to a mere feline. Is this you indirectly calling me lazy, or pointing out that my wisdom is insignificant compared to the intelligence of a c—”

“I love cats.” you stress, unflinching before his scorn.

The pupil of his visible eye darts across your smile, apparitions of neurons firing in his brain could almost be seen reflected on it. He parts his lips to speak, but closes them instantly, an absence of what he deems are the correct words being indicated.

You bite your lip to stifle the laughter bubbling in your chest.

With great effort he finally says, “So... what?” though his gaze is averted.

“So, I'm implying that,” your steps shrink the distance between you two.

“I adore you enough to compare you to cats.” Anaxa holds his arm out in defense, unfortunately for him, your proximity is close enough to reveal the blood that rushes to his cheeks.

“Nonsense—”

Taking advantage of his stupefaction, you hold two tufts of his hair and hold them in the shape of cat ears. Your giggle brings the scholar back to Amphoreus, he weakly attempts to swat you off but you take the opportunity to deliver a pinch to his cheeks.

“Okay okay, I'll stop.” you raise your arms in surrender. There are always unsaid limitation to a person's patience. You may indulge in testing where they cease, but even you know not to cross certain territories.

A ‘hey!’ heavy with disbelief escapes him, his palm rises to cradle the teased skin. Rouge stains his cheeks.

You spin on your heels to depart but a new interference introduces itself.

You don't recall Anaxa's grip being this strong, the thought passes as you feel his fingers dig into the curve of your waist. His chin settles on the dip of your shoulder, his breath warming the skin.

Perhaps, you shouldn't have teased him.

[niiwa-angel]

I've been dragged kicking and screaming into the Transformers Fandom so I'm going to make it everyone's problem. Imagine humans have weird but casual interactions with the Transformers.

You're a garage owner going about your day when this giant fucking robot knocks on your roof and asks if you sell tires. Apparently, there was a top secret battle between the military/Autobots and the Decepticons a few miles away and this dude got one of his tires blown out. They have more back at base but having a ruined tire is really uncomfortable so he's wondering if you have a possible replacement. And like, you do and these guys have saved the planet a few times so sure, you fetch a tire and replace his broken one while sweating balls because you do not want to upset this thing. Once you're done he just nods and thanks you and fucks off. You're a little jaded that he didn't pay but 1. He definitely doesn't have human currency and 2. He's saved your planet a few times so you can probably eat the cost of a tire.

And then the fucker turns up a few weeks later with a chunk of gold that he found in a mountain like Hey! This is valuable to humans right? And he gives you that, which is waaaayyy more than the cost of one tire but you don't know how to break a chunk of gold and he's driving off before you can ask if he wants change. That's just life sometimes.

~~~

Or! Imagine some poor impound worker freaking the fuck out when one of their impounded cars just turns into a robot, breaks off the boot, and is really pissed off about how they wound up there. And that poor fucker has to be the one to explain no overnight parking to an alien robot that is VERY upset about being dragged here. They're stomping off before the worker can explain to them that they also have to pay a fine which is probably for the best because how the fuck are you supposed to explain that?

Meanwhile, the robot is stomping off down the street muttering about how you can't even recharge on this Primus forsaken planet without some human bothering you about it. And what's the point of all those parking lots of you can't park there?

~~~

The Transformers being Awkward about human interaction and taking a lot from what they see, even if it's wrong. Bumblebee, Mirage, Jazz, and Arcee are flipping civilians the bird pretty indiscriminately while in town, which is really confusing. So when one of the military guys walks by, it gets pointed out and they explain that when they're in their car mode driving to missions, they often get flipped off by other drivers who are annoyed that they're driving so recklessly. But! They don't realize it's an insult they just think it's a greeting so they have to have a debriefing about it later. They apologize for the insult.

~~~

Everyone thought Bumblebee was the family friendly robot because he usually kept a civil tongue. But that was exclusively because what he had access too on public radio was pretty clean. With the widespread use of podcasts and streaming services, he actually curses like a sailor and it's freaky.

~~~

Somebody has one of those lawn mowing Roombas that's out doing it's fucking job when Starscream sees it from above and comes down to try and talk to it, see if it's a Decepticon. Even when he figures out it's not, he takes it anyway because it has blades so that might be useful. Meanwhile, poor dude is just in their fucking house watching their lawnmower get kidnapped without being able to do anything about it. Except call the hotline which leads to a very weird conversation.

"hey uh, so this isn't an emergency but a Decepticon just stole my lawn mower. Not sure if you can do anything about that."

"ah yes. Sorry sir, they sometimes do that. We'll try and send a replacement, what's the model?"

And then a few weeks later Optimus Prime shows up with an exact model of the one that was stolen, apologies for the inconvenience, and drives away. However, the Autobots are also fascinated by your lawnmower and so occasionally your yard is invaded by an alien robot that watches enthralled as your lawn is mowed.

~~~

Living in a cold area prevents you from seeing either Autobots or Decepticons in the winter time because it doesn't snow on Cybertron and they really don't fucking like it. Their best way of dealing with snow is to hide out in their heated lairs and just ride it out, they aren't going out in that shit.

~~~

They also hate hail so sometimes they'll hide under overpasses with bikers. It's a weird sight, a group of bikers and Mirage just hanging out under an overpass, shooting the shit, waiting for the weather to clear up.

~~~

Living near an American military base means sometimes you see the Autobots out and about. They get leave too and they like to explore. Favourite places to frequent include drive in theaters, parks, especially if they have animals, sports arenas (they can climb up on the roof and look in), and scrap yards.

~~~

Cybertronians can eat metal (we saw the robot dinosaur try eating cars in one of the Bayverse movies so I like to think all of them can do it.) so it's a frequent snack for them. They've figured out not to eat things that belong to humans but they consider the scrap yards to be fair game. If you see a giant robot ripping apart old cars to take some parts just leave it be, they're getting snacks.

If you see Rachet yelling at that same robot later, it's because processed earth metal is basically junk food and eating too much of it makes them sick. That does not stop them.

~~~

After a battle the local carwashes are pretty well filled with Autobots trying to wash the mud and gunk off themselves because apparently they can't get into the transport ships that dirty. The locals aren't sure if that's a military rule or a rule Optimus Prime implemented but it's sure fun to speculate.

[ashlinxsloves]

Have Yourself A Merry Little Christmas

Jason Todd x Fem!reader

Requested by Anon

W/C: 960 ish (it's short im sorry 😞)

A/N: I know it's already past Christmas and it's two days till 2025, but I was sick and couldn't write :,) I still have a horrible cough but I prevailed!! I hope you guys like it, I mostly thought about WFA Jason when writing this.

Tags/warnings: fluff, domestic!Jason Todd, no y/n, a little ooc Jason? Idk, Batfam mentioned, slightly insecure Jason (if you squint), romantic but awkward Jason, fluff, fluff, fluff– CHRISTMAS DECORATIONS PEAK– not proofread.

“Jason–! A little help with the lights please?” You called out for your boyfriend who was in the kitchen, decorating the cookies you've baked earlier today.

It was still a few weeks till Christmas and you always loved the holiday since you were a kid. You convinced Jay to help you decorate your shared apartment to give it some of the Christmas cheer– and it wasn't like he could say no to his sweet girl.

You were standing on a stool, trying to stick the Christmas lights above the window, only to lose your balance and almost fall. Jason caught you in time, holding you by your waist and helping you regain your balance.

“Woah there, pretty girl, be careful,” he grinned at you while still holding onto your hips as you finally got the lights to stay. He helped you down, leading you to the tree that was kind of decorated – with a few red and gold ornaments along with warm golden yellow Christmas lights. The only thing missing was the tree topper and some gold garlands.

“Mind getting the garlands from the box, babe? I got the tree topper in my purse,” you smiled innocently at him, making Jason irk an eyebrow before leaving the room– why would you have the tree topper in your purse? Did you buy a new one?

You hurriedly got the tree topper out of your bag, trying not to giggle too loudly. It was a custom-made tree topper, made by one of your colleagues who liked making Christmas decorations as a side hustle. When Jason came back and saw it, he almost dropped the box while blinking in surprise.

“Is.. is that a Red Hood tree topper?” he asked, mouth slightly agape but he didn't seem upset with it. He looked rather more baffled than anything.

“Well– I thought it would fit better than anything else.. plus, you're my star, Jaybird,” you smiled at him, caressing his cheek, making Jason lean into your touch. God, he loved you so much, he felt like he didn't deserve such a sweet, pretty thing like you.

Once you were done decorating the living room, the both of you headed to your room, but before you could, Jay cleared his throat, nodding upwards where a mistletoe was hanging. You chuckled softly at his antics and he pulled you in by the waist, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. Before you could pull away he pressed more kisses on your lips, nose, cheeks, and forehead, making you giggle, placing your hands on his chest to make him stop.

“I love you,” he murmured against your hair, burying his face in the crown of your head, inhaling your sweet shampoo while he kept you close.

“I love you too, Jay.. more than you'll ever know,” you whispered back, smiling against his chest before breaking the hug and tugging him by his arm towards your shared bedroom, “come on, our room won't decorate itself.”

“Your apartment looks like those super decorated department stores– gah- ow-! Jason, why did you hit me?” Dick rubbed his side while holding his cup of hot chocolate, pursing his lips at his younger brother.

“Don't insult our home, Dickwad. I think it looks great,” Jason smiled softly when he looked at you talking to Damian, seeming to be entranced in the conversation. He then decided to get behind you and grab you by the waist, stealing you away.

“Jay– what are you–” you tried to get out of his grasp, kicking your legs slightly. Damian was about to protest, but Dick shook his head at him, letting Jason take you away from your conversation.

“Stealing my girlfriend away for a moment,” he replied to you, taking you to your room and closing the door. When he put you down, he spun you around to face him before nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, “I missed you.”

“But I was right there?” You hugged him back, a little confused but indulging in the moment.

“Just wanted a bit of privacy.. it's a little crowded in the living room right now,” Jason pulled away from your neck before pressing a kiss on your forehead. You smiled warmly at him, looking into his eyes with curiosity when he seemed to avoid eye contact with you.

“What's wrong?” murmuring softly, you rubbed his forearm but he only shook his head before chuckling awkwardly. He let go of you, going to his nightstand and grabbing something from the drawer. You tilted your head to the side, a little confused.

“I– uh.. I wanted to give you this in private since Dick won't let me hear the end of it. But.. you're the love of my life and I want you to have this,” Jay handed you a box, opening it, revealing a necklace with a heart pendant with your initials carved on the outside.

“I– I know I'm not the perfect boyfriend and I have my flaws, but I want to be there for every Christmas, helping you decorate, baking cookies and drinking hot chocolate with you while we watch the Harry Potter movies over and over.. God, I should've written a script or asked Babs what to say–” he groaned softly, making you giggle and before he could continue you pulled him down by his collar and pecked his lips.

“I think it's perfect,” you smiled as he helped you put the necklace on, opening the pendant to see the picture you both took during your first Christmas together, kissing under a mistletoe by the Wayne Manor. It was the perfect gift.

“Merry Christmas, beautiful,” Jason smiled at you, leaning his forehead against yours while he looked lovingly into your eyes.

“Merry Christmas, Jaybird,” you smiled back at him, holding the pendant with one hand while caressing his cheek with your other.

Pls reblog and like to show support!! <3

[lazycats-stuff]

How about Batfam x male reader, where reader is Russian and has a slight accent, unless someone really pissed him off, that's when it really shows. Reader is always eloquent and kind, and you don't notice his accent unless you are really paying attention to the way he says certain words, but after a few galas where a fat businessman keeps insulting him somehow, and Damian or Jason are trying to defend Reader, but Reader just tells them no. When the fat businessman insults his brothers, Reader finally snaps and just goes full blown Michael Blackson Teacher style roast on him and his entire family in front of everyone, even his Russian accent comes out (I just think it would be funnier with the accent). After the gala is done, Bruce tries to scold the reader, but everyone is constantly trying to contain their laughter except Jason, as Reader finally snapping is the funniest thing that ever happened at a gala. Even Alfred can't bring himself to scold Reader for what he has done because he was there.

I know you are probably busy, so whenever you have the time for this one-shot. Thank you.

Oh hell yeah. Also, I couldn't find a GIF. I'm sorry...

Summary: (Y/N) is Russian and takes no disrespect.

Warnings: fat shaming? Only when (Y/N) was insulted.

Bruce would say that all of his children are nice, but (Y/N) is an exception to a certain degree. He is nice, eloquent, kind and loves to help others. He's Russian, can speak Russian fluently and his accent is rather hidden. You can hear it come out in certain words, but other than that, it is rather hidden. And Bruce loves to listen to it. Especially when he is frustrated about something, or simply can't remember a word in English.

That's when the Russian actually comes out. Of course everyone will revert to their native language when frustrated, mad and everything else. It was something that was rather endearing. Cute even. Just some grumbling underneath his breath about something in Russian. (Y/N)'s brothers found it cute. And they started to pick up a few phrases of their own.

But not curse words, because Alfred doesn't want to hear any cursing in the manor. None. Not in English, Russian, Arabic or any other language. It doesn't matter if it's a dead language or a live one, because Alfred is going to lay down the law.

Even now, while there was a gala going on in the Manor, Bruce watched his sons carefully. Jason was evading it with everything in him, Tim was getting some food, Damian was his usual grouchy self, Dick was conversing with some people and so was (Y/N), using his eloquence to get his points across. Bruce smiled as he brought a glass up to his lips, sipping some champagne.

All was well.

For once.

Bruce was surprised, but wasn't going to complain or actually question why the universe has decided to bring peace upon the Wayne Manor. Peace was seemingly a rare thing in this Manor and Bruce was going to cherish it for the rest of the night. Actually, for as long as it lasts, Bruce will cherish it.

Oh, that peace wasn't going to last long.

At all.

As (Y/N) was talking to a woman about some charities, a big, fat businessman approached. Sure, it's not nice to call someone fat, but, if someone's stomach is spilling over the pants, then it's just a fair game. Bruce watched from afar, just observing the room.

He raised his brow when he saw (Y/N) frowning, clearly mad about something. Bruce could make out a few words and one of them struck a nerve. Commie, or short for communist. (Y/N) never liked that. Never. Just because Russia was a communist country, that doesn't make him bad. And how the hell is that an insult?

(Y/N) shot right back, calling him a capitalist for not caring about his workers, which were the more prevalent rumors in the high society. Bruce watched, wondering how it will unfold. But then it hit him. This was the man that (Y/N) had problems with for the last few galas. (Y/N) always remained polite, but Bruce knew that it would rile him up and upset him.

Damian and Jason noticed and both have jumped to his defense, defending him with polite and tense smiles. But the businessman wasn't letting up. At all. Being this relentless in insulting was rather... Weird. Bruce kept watching, ready to step in the moment it gets too tense or it escalates.

And (Y/N) had a rule. It was, insult him all you want, but insult his brothers? He will retaliate. Tenfold.

And that's where the fat man opened the door for him to retaliate. The moment that the man insulted Damian's Arabic heritage and Jason's life on the streets before adoption, (Y/N) was absolutely fuming and has decided to go onto the offensive.

He hurled insults onto the man, but one that made Bruce nearly lose his mind was, and he quotes this, " You are one sandwich away from a heart attack. " And (Y/N) wasn't done, far from done. Firstly, the Russian accent came out during all of this and he wasn't letting up. Since the family of the fat businessman joined, (Y/N) was not battling on two different fronts.

And he wasn't holding back.

At all.

Jason and Damian were trying to keep straight faces but it's not easy.

Bruce had no doubt that Jason would later say that the insults are a work of art.

The gala was now over and everyone was sitting in the kitchen, munching on the leftover food. Alfred was standing there, watching (Y/N), knowing what had went down in the ballroom. Bruce was supposed to scold him. Maybe ground him, perhaps. Take away certain things?

But then again, he was defending himself. The man insulted him first so... Well...

So Bruce was going to try to scold (Y/N). He has to. And that was difficult when everyone around them was trying not to laugh so hard. Even Alfred. Seeing (Y/N) snap, when he was normally kind and calm. And with a Russian accent too. It was all too much for Jason who was laughing his ass off the entire time whole Bruce was trying to scold the reader.

" You know what, I won't scold you, " Bruce declared, making Jason cry from laughter.

" (Y/N) snapping is the best thing that has ever happened at a gala. Ever. EVER, " Jason wheezed out, slapping his knee.

Alfred tried not to break, because he was supposed to be a serious one, but Alfred couldn't even hold it together. He was about to break. Should (Y/N) be scolded? Yes. However, he didn't start the insulting, the man did... Alfred tried to keep it together. He did.

And he was going to keep it together.

So, to conclude the evening, in the history of galas, (Y/N) has put his mark in it.

[silverflameataraxia]

Forget the growing Valkyrie/Illyrian conflict. I need to see some Valkyrie/IC conflict next book.

Rhysand's treatment of Nesta was so horrendous that it triggered memories of Ember's abuse at the hands of the Autumn King. And it was so awful that Ember stood up for Nesta and defended her from Rhysand. Keep in mind that Nesta was a social pariah at that point in time and Ember didn't know if she would be punished or executed, but she chose to stick up for Nesta anyways because Rhysand's treatment of Nesta was so triggering for Ember. Even after that, Ember asked if there was anything else she could do to take some of the blame off of Nesta.

Nesta can't continue to summarize her mistreatment as her getting into a fight with her family and disappearing for a week with Cassian. At some point Gwyn and Emerie are going to see Rhysand's treatment of Nesta for themselves and they're going to find out how often he threatens to kill her, and they're not going to be too happy about it. I'm sure it's going to trigger some memories for them, too (especially Emerie). And when they find out Nesta's not even safe around her own mate, who does absolutely nothing to protect her from Rhysand? I don't see any narrative where they don't call out Cassian, Rhys, and the IC for their BS.

I need Nessian to go the route of Elorcan in KoA. I need the Valks to, at least somewhat, turn against Cassian like the MC's turned against Lorcan in ToG. I need 600 pages of not knowing whether or not Nessian is going to be endgame. I need Nesta to consider rejecting the mating bond, and Cassian having to come to terms with how badly he failed her for her to seriously consider it. I need 600 pages of him groveling and worshipping the very ground she walks on. I need to hear Cassian say "I love you" to Nesta, as well as him having entire monologues where he just can't stop listing all the reasons he loves her. I need him to trust her and her decisions. I need 600 pages of him finally behaving like a mated male.

I need the Valkyries to help him understand that the IC is the biggest threat to Nesta. I need him and the Valks to shut down any insults the IC hurl Nesta's way. I need them to stick up for her, and defend and protect her. I need to see Cassian protect Nesta from Rhysand. I need to see him prioritize Nesta and her feelings. I need to see him treat her like the princess she is. I need him to romanticize the avid romance reader. I need him to cherish Nesta's heart, rather than rip it to shreds in his temper tantrums.

I need 600 pages of Cassian finally choosing Nesta over the IC.

[yanderefarm]

yandere butler introduction

cw;; violence, age gap, nsfw, mommy kink, public sex

His name is Phillip Hemlock and he's 52 years old.

He's been serving your family ever since you left for boarding school and is incredibly loyal to them.

Before becoming a butler he was a sorcerer's slave and he would be experimented on regularly. This is where the scars around his neck come from.

The scar on his chest used to be a branding but when he escaped he scratched it out himself.

He's actually a talented sorcerer as well but he's never received an education for it.

He has a major soft spot for you especially after your parents untimely death. He's so proud of you for always being strong so he wants to gently take care of you and let you be more childish.

He's good at knowing exactly what you want before you even know you want it. If you're starting to get cold he'll be wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. Right when you think you might want a snack he's there with a tray of snacks.

You get treated incredibly gently by him. No one else does.

If a servant makes a mistake they will be forced through vigorous training even if it hurts them until they get it right.

If a noble tries to insult you or makes you uncomfortable they'll receive enough poison to make them incredibly sick.

The only person he can't be hostile towards is King Emil so no matter how much he wants to he's just forced to stand and glare.

He can't get away with killing nobles every time so he does it very sparingly. Only if he feels they've done something unforgivable.

He's good at cooking, cleaning, dancing, fighting, and piano. He'll also learn any skill you want so he can entertain you.

Your happiness is the most important thing to him because he loves you so much. He never expects your love in return because he is just a lowly servant but he wants to be by your side forever.

It would hurt but if you did decide to get married to someone but as long as you don't try to elope he'll accept it.

If you try to elope he'll be forced to take drastic measures.

You are the duke of the north in Emil Landorr's kingdom. Your castle stands as a line of defense against the northern monster lands.

It also shares a border with the enemy theocracy but the north is too cold and monster infested to be a point of war.

The previous duke and duchess died in a carriage accident quite randomly but there is some question of the actual randomness of it.

Your castle is a fortress and the second largest in the whole kingdom. Only the king's is bigger.

Not a lot of nobles are willing to brave the cold and the monsters that's why you're not bothered as much by them.

Phillip is the other reason they tend to leave you alone.

nsfw

Phillip really enjoys having his chest played with especially having his nipples sucked. He'd like to gently pet your hair and encourage you to suck more.

He definitely has a little bit of a mommy kink. He's incredibly embarrassed to be called it but it turns him on so much.

He's so embarrassed to want your body he feels like a pervert. At first when his feelings started he swore that his love was pure and innocent. Then one day he accidentally overheard you touching yourself and his view changed.

He likes listening to you touching yourself and slipping his hand into his pants to pretend like you're touching him instead. If he ever heard you say his name while you were in the middle of it he'd cum so quickly.

He struggles sometimes to remain professional while he's bathing you or helping you get dressed. He tries to commit your body to memory for his fantasies later. If you catch him staring he'll be even more embarrassed and ashamed.

Sometimes he uses magic to conjure up a version of you to help him get off.

He has a surprising amount of stamina and resilience for his age. He can ride you.

He's a sadist more than a masochist but he enjoys having his hair pulled.

He'd honestly enjoy any punishment you decide he deserves if that's what you want.

He'd also like to punish you a little bit. Especially if you're reserved and not spoiled, that's a punishable offense in his book.

Loves a spoiled brat darling. You want him to do everything? You want to cling to his chest while he rides you? You want to misbehave and be bossy even when he's in charge? Everything for you.

He likes any position where he can see your face. He dreams of looking into your eyes while you breed him so full and he tells you that you're such a good boy.

He also loves for you to leave embarrassing marks on his neck. He'll cover them up but he likes the danger of it.

He likes public sex for that reason too. Fuck him where the other servants could see their manager being turned into a sloppy whore. He'll be trying so hard to keep quiet while he's almost cumming from every footstep he hears.

He feels like a pervert if you bring up the age gap but it also turns him on to be degraded by a younger man. He's supposed to be mature but here he is a pervy old man getting bred by his beloved master.

[isagispuzzle]

haha happy 200 followers pookie don't u just LOVE ENEMIES TO LOVERS it's so basic BUT ITS SO GOOD 😫🙏🙏 also GOOD JOB ur writing is so DELICIOUS U SHOUKD BE PROUDDD🫶😼

AAAAA TYSM!!! i racked my brain for a bllk boy i could imagine in an enemies to lovers scenario, hope you like it!! cw: alcohol

you glare at reo from across the banquet hall. as usual, he's surrounded by important shareholders, bosses, and advocates, all clamouring for a second of his attention. he has a polite smile on, attending to each one of them diplomatically yet with his personal humorous flair. you're surrounded by just as many people as he is, all of them equally greedy for your regard, so you slap on your best smile and entertain their conversations with practised ease, because there's no way you'll lose to reo.

with mikage corporation being the only company that could actually rival your family's, you were naturally wary of everyone from that side. through watching your parents interact with the mikages, you learnt to slide through conversations with a sweet smile and sharp words, which served you especially well when you talked to the only mikage your age, reo.

although you've seen him laugh happily without pretense with his friends in school, he never did so with you. instead, he sized you up cautiously and looked away when you tried to talk to him first. you decided you didn't want to be his friend anyway, so you shot him a snarky comment that started this rivalry that carried into your adult years.

twenty years later, you're both the ceos of your own companies and your conversations with reo still consist of just backhanded compliments and thinly veiled insults, which is why you're gritting your teeth behind your smile when someone tells you about the talk going around recently. there have been speculations about the possibilities of you and reo getting married, since it would bring great success to both companies and it seemed only right that you both marry someone of similar status. you momentarily lose your composure and your eyebrow twitches, because even if you respect reo's business acumen and acknowledge his good looks, you can't forget all the petty remarks he's made to you.

the gala reaches its tail end and several guests are starting to leave, so you catch a breather at the bar and sip a glass of whiskey. reo appears by your side with a cocky smile on his lips, and he teases you about the marriage rumours. you're aware of the many pairs of eyes on the both of you, so you stretch your lips into a smile and quietly hiss that he'll only be able to marry you in his dreams.

you start to drink faster, unnerved by both the whispers behind your back and reo's presence right next to you. reo raises his brows, but you look away. you're already ignoring the warnings in your head telling you not to get drunk here, so why will you listen to his?

reo sits with you as you drink past your limit and helps you out of the hall, away from the prying eyes of the other guests. sure, reo didn't particularly fancy you, but his conscience couldn't let you make a fool of yourself in front of those important people and ruin the hard work of your parents and yourself. he prides himself on being an upright man, after all, and the only way he wants to win is through his hard work.

he takes your phone out of your purse as he guides you down the hallway and calls your driver to get the car ready for you. you seem to react to reo's voice, and in your drunken stupor, you lean your head against his shoulder. reo shifts his grip from your elbow to your waist so that you don't fall, and his eyes are wide as he glances down at you.

you've never been this unguarded around him, and you've always shot him a glare when no one else was looking, so when you snuggle into his side and mumble his name, reo thinks his ears are on fire and fears that his feelings for you may finally come unraveled.

[grapejuice32]

Never Forget

Spencer Reid x reader

Warnings: reader has a toxic family (specifically the mother), using unhealthily coping mechanisms eg, alcohol, drugs and self harm, I think that's all

Notes: reader is in the BAU and her family aren't really accepting of it and how important her job is to her. pls keep all the warning in mind while reading, don't read anything that could actively trigger you, love you bbys <3

You were biting the nail on your thumb, your knee bobbing up and down anxiously as you sat on your couch, you tried to prepare yourself for any upcoming remarks that your mother was sure to deliver that would inevitably hurt you, as they always did.

It had been that way since you were a child, there was always something about you, an achievement that perhaps you were proud of, like winning a medal for something in school that she would use against you. When you were in your young teens, you tried to fight her on it, point out to her that what she said hurt, and she would always start with an apology but inevitably find away to cut you down again, she'd say that 'you were making her the bad guy' or that if you couldn't take her constant berating, you'd 'never make it in the real world'. She'd call you names and say you were naive, that what she was putting you through was nothing compared to the hardships of her life. It hurt. So by the time you were 16 you'd given up on trying to fight her on it, you were desperate for ways to numb yourself, it started with alcohol, sneaking out to get drunk in a park with your friends. But you discovered you enjoyed the numbness certain spirits brought you, so you been drinking alone in the confines of your bedroom, before bed to help you sleeping the morning to help you start your day. However, as it is with all coping unhealthy mechanisms, it gets to a point where you need more.

Then began the drugs, at first it started with painkillers, taking one to many for your hangover headaches and discovering that it made you feel more at peace than the alcohol had. Then it became more severe, taking heavy duty painkillers, prescription ones, nothing you could get your hands on in an attempt to numb your pain. It was one time, while you were coming down from a high, on your way to take some more pills that you found yourself slipping on the wet kitchen floor, the glass in your hand breaking and a shard cutting your arm. and that cycle, the self harm, it felt like the most efficient one, because you would be feeling the physical pain, not the mental pain, but even then, its never enough. Every few days, becoming every other day, becoming every day, becoming every few hours. It's when you nearly flunked high school and got threatened with being sent away to some wilderness camp that you knew you couldn't go on the way you were, you knew you needed help. So, when you turned 18, you forced yourself to check into rehab and got your game together, it was the best decision you'd ever made. You were smart, too smart to through it all away to a lifestyle you didn't want anymore, to one you knew you didn't belong to.

When you were out of rehab, you managed to get into collage to study criminology, you busted your ass and you came out successful, and further down the line, at the young age of 26, ten years after you had begun your unhealthy cycle, you found yourself as a profiler in the BAU. That brought you to where you are now, on the phone with your mother ready to be hurt by her words again, despite you making a living out of stopping the bad guys, the villains, you had yet to break away from your own villain and that made you feel weak, like a young child again. She didn't like anything bout your life, so here you sat, listening to her insult your job, your home, your boyfriend. "I- yeah mom- yes look, I know, yeah...okay, I'm sorry I don't know what you want me to say, plea-I-yeah okay, I'm gonna go, bye."

You sniffled as you abruptly hung up the phone, your eyes burning with tears that rolled down your cheeks when you looked down at your now bleeding thumb after you released the skin from between your teeth. The sounds of your breath hitching as you tried to hold back your sobs filling the silent atmosphere of your apartment. Suddenly, you found yourself itching for anything, beer, wine vodka, anything. You squeezed your eyes shut, clenching both your hands into fists, digging your nails into the palms of your hands leaving crescent moon shaped indents. Inhaling sharply, you bit your lip and shook your head to yourself, you knew hat if you didn't get yourself out of your apartment, you'd end up doing something you didn't want to do. So. you went the only place you could think to go, Spencer's. Truthfully, you didn't recall the journey to his apartment building, you were too lost in your own head, only slightly snapped out of your trance by the sound of Spencer's door unlocking and opening.

"Hi, honey," he greeted warmly, it only took him a split second however to notice the state you were in, instantly gathering you in his arms, pulling your lightly shaking form into the warmth of his chest. He walked the two of you back into his chest slowly, closing the door behind you both by pushing it with his foot, only momentarily letting one of his hands leave your back in order to lock the door, his hand swiftly returning to you, only this time soothingly scratching your scalp.

The way he moved in an effort to comfort you, in ways only he knew would help to bring you out of your head. It was only when he sat down on his couch, pulling you down with him for you to curl into his lap, that you began really break down, feeling safe in the serentiy of his touch to start crying the way you wanted to, needed to.

When what felt like a lifetime, which in reality was only minutes, passed, the breaths escaping you now steady with only the occasional hiccup. It was only then, when your breathing had settled and the tears now only escaped your eyes every now and then, that Spencer felt it appropriate to ask, "what happened, sweet girl?"

Your breath began to hitch again when you tried to gather your words, Spencer's hands working their way up and down your back and combing through your hair patiently, finally you whispered what he most likely already knew, " 's my mom," you felt him nod, your face tucked into the crook of his neck, "she's jus' so mean, she said such awful things, about me an-an-and about you," it was those last words that began to set you off again.

"okay, shh, 's okay," he hummed, pressing gentle kisses to your temple, "I'm still here, 's just you and me okay?"

That managed to coax a nod out of you, "I guess 's just hard, y'know?"

"I know, sweet girl," he whispered, pressing another kiss to your hairline, "but I've got you, alright," once again you just nodded, "she's never even met before, honey, what she says about me holds no real truth in it, and everything she has to say about you are just cruel and twisted words."

You took a deep breath and nodded, "I know, jus' brings back bad memories, y'know?"

He let out a breath, resting the side of his head on the top of yours, and the both of you stayed silent for a while, feeling at peace in each other's arms. "I love you," you whispered into the comfortable silence of his book filled apartment.

"And I love you, sweet girl," he paused before letting one of hands fall to your bare arm, his fingers lightly tracing some of the raised scars that littered your soft skin, "I'm so proud of you, always, I hope you know that. Many people would falter, after experiencing what you grew up with, as we've seen with our own eyes, and you're here doing the opposite of that, in the BAU. I'm just so proud of you, you're so strong. Never forget that, and if you do, I'll be here to remind you, always."

Please lmk what you guys think, I'd love to hear from you! I'll also be happy to try and write any requests you may have <3

[nicoleanell]

Still on my kick of meta-ing about IWTV season 2 a few months too late. LOUMAND FIGHT TIME. I gotta be sad about something real quick.

There's definitely a thing in the Armand-apologist side of fandom (the street where I live) where it's often brought up that nothing Armand says in that argument is quite as vile and monstrous as the "groomed me into a little bitch" line. My obligatory disclaimer IN FAIRNESS TO LOUIS: (a) it's certainly not a one-sided fight and they do both get some very ugly hits in, (b) Armand was the sober one (I don't actually think that's much of an excuse but worth pointing out he immediately forgot what happened and apologized even BEFORE any mind-meddling), and (c) holy shit the rest of the episode exists and nothing that preceded Louis' suicide attempt was a justification for the way Armand reacted after it. Cool? Cool.

But still - yeah. That line is gross and extremely Not funny to me. It crosses such a huge line so fast there's almost nothing either of them could say to de-escalate from that. (In fact I'd argue it crosses a line FOR THE AUDIENCE more than it even registers as that bad to Armand, which in itself is kinda sad. Like… his instinct in that moment is laughing and throwing trauma insults back in a stupid Southern accent. He was - I cannot stress this enough - more upset by being called boring.)

I think there's something interesting about the fact that in universe the way Armand responds by mocking Louis' brother's suicide is just as horrible - because Paul's death is meant to be something that was formatively traumatic and life-changing for Louis - but I'm not sure that it fully hits the audience as viscerally terrible on the same level as making fun of Armand being raped by his daddy-vampire and others as. a. child.

But anyway, with the understanding no one came out taking the high road there... the thing that actually kills me about that exchange is we KNOW in that moment, watching them hurl these horrible horrible words at each other: these are things they opened up to each other about in the past. These are things they told each other. They've been together for decades already. This isn't a "digging into your head and pulling stuff out" kind of thing, like some fuckin' Daniel or whatever. This isn't common knowledge of their backstories just because the audience knows it already. They're both acting like "this is a thing you whine about all the time" when they've whined about it to vanishingly few people in the world, actually!!

Armand brings up Paul and Grace because Louis has talked about them, and he listened. Louis has told him about watching Paul step off the roof, about Grace at the cemetary. And Armand told Louis everything about Marius, and Louis filed that away in his brain with some extra words that Armand didn't use. At one point or another, they both unpacked the heaviest shit that ever happened to them and said "have this, I think it's why I am the way I am", they shared these things with each other in moments of intimacy and vulnerability and said "don't hurt me with this, obviously, okay?" And now they're here, unloading it all back onto each other as mockery. Yeah, I've heard you say all that stuff about your damage, and it's fucking pathetic and hilarious actually. It's not just like "I'm trying to hurt you by bringing this up", it's also "you've always sounded ridiculous to me when you talked about this stuff, you know that, right? I pretended to feel bad for you and I truly could not care less."

Like one of the reasons I think that scene is so jaw-dropping is there's so much intimacy and familiarity with each other implied and also shattered by it. And man how DO you ever get back from that. I would start the memory-erasing from that moment forward for sure.

[pricegouge]

Price’s bratty angel daughter when she finds out he’s been cumming in places that are not her:

oh you cum in tissue?? you jerk off to other women because you HATE me?? oh! oh! jail for papa!!! jail for papa for One Thousand Years!!

combining these so i don't spam the dash again (sorry, all!)

cw: incest/daughter swap. spanking. dubcon/noncon fingering. bratting. pov from nik's daughter but i didn't want to name john's daughter for all my beloved daddy price fans so she's called sweetpea and i'm sorry if it ever hits the narrative like a damn bowling ball cause i know you wouldn't call your friend that, really, but this was a bit of a challenge. MDNI

you hate to see papa in a bad mood. he wears it so harshly, heavy brow and flexing fist. dark eyes glinting as he stares his friend down from across the table. you stutter through an apology, for what you're not even fully sure, and papa sends you strained sort of smile, tells you it doesn't concern you.

"and why wouldn't it?" uncle john asks, mustache twitching as he works through another bite of steak. he leers at you, decidedly ignoring the continued pouts of his own daughter continuing on behind him. "never have to take your sweet little milaya over your knee?"

papa looks like he might flip the table, frowning between his own friend and yours. "never needed to. my daughter does not speak to me like this," he gestures broadly, as if in demonstration. your friend continues to sulk.

uncle john just puffs, glares at his daughter. "sweetpea only talks to me like this because i never have, either." he waggles his eyebrows at papa, shoots you another suggestive look. "so don't get too comfortable."

the thought makes you shiver, mortified. papa mistakes it for fear and places his hand on your knee, broad palm squeezing the majority of your thigh as he tries to reassure you. it does nothing to help, your friend's insistent whining still echoing in the room. 'i don't like her. why do you even want her? what can she give you i can't?'

uncle john's date had been more than accommodating, excusing herself with a quick peck to john's cheek even as sweetpea raged, hurling insults and demands until her words petered out into sobs and she'd gotten what she'd wanted - john wrapped around her on the couch as he cooed about how the woman would never be back if sweetpea didn't want it.

papa had kept politely distant until then, calling the prices back to the table before the food went cold.

'should send you to bed without dinner,' uncle john had scoffed, but he'd loaded another helping of baby carrots onto his daughter's plate and she'd thanked him with a watery smile.

'should belt her ass, is what you should do,' papa had corrected between bites of his own steak and then it was all over but the crying. (and the pleading, and the pouting, and the -.)

wide-eyed, sweetpea and you had watched the men volley back and forth for long minutes, tension rising the more papa insisted john discipline his daughter. the more john swore you'd put your own father through the ringer if he continued to coddle you the way he did. finally, uncle john admits he can't discipline sweetpea. says it with his greasy fingers hooked under her jaw so he can smile warmly at her. she returns it, cat that got the cream, her own smile slower in coming but just as warm -

until papa says he could do it for uncle john.

it shocks you how easily uncle john defers. 'whatever you think is best.' shocks you more how he doesn't change his mind even when sweetpea begins to thrash and wail, pathetic attempts to break papa's grip making your own stomach churn.

turns out, papa thinks 20 spanks is best.

you didn't think he'd be able to do it until he's got her skirt flipped up, has yanked at her panties until they've been swallowed by her cheeks so that she has no protection from his onslaught, palms smacking harshly against her rounded bottom. he's never been like this. it makes you sick. makes you shake and sob in fear. you shout for him to stop but either he can't hear you over sweetpea's shrieks, or he doesn't care. you're not sure which prospect is worse.

uncle john stops you when you try to run from the room, arm slipping around your waist as he pulls you into his lap. "only four swats in, sweetheart. you don't wanna be here for your friend?"

swats. swats are what you aim at dog noses when they're being troublesome. swats are what kill flies. quick, tight. no real force. papa is incapable of a swat, hands too heavy and brutish. leave stinging claps of skin echoing in the air, piercing even over the sound of sweetpea's wails.

the next strike makes her sob, or maybe that's you. you turn away, try to burrow in uncle john's neck, but his fingers find your chin like they did sweetpea's earlier, tilt your head back to the display before you.

"you'll watch and you'll remember. because i know your papa, and i know enough to tell you now - you ever act like my sweetpea did today, it'll be me belts your ass, no matter how tough he acts." you want to tell him he's wrong, that papa would never let someone hurt you. but then, you know that only twenty minutes ago, sweetpea would have said the same about him. "and i'm not as nice as your papa."

and so, you watch. tears on your face and squirming, but you do. silently count with papa, in russian. curse when he asks sweetpea what number they're at and she can't answer so he starts again. it's cruel, the kind of pain that sinks under your ribs and pulls, inspects all your tender bits for the most sweetest morsels and teethes. sweetpea twitches about, skin mottling, tears and snot staining her face. she looks like a grubby little bug, like he's lifted a rock to find her squirming beneath, afraid of the sunshine.

yet still he touches her. broad strokes paint her skin, the spiky crown of fingers wrapping down into the crease of her thigh. he kneads at her occasionally, tests the tenderness of her flesh. once, you hear her breath go thin and ragged, a shaky, unmistakable exhale. his next swat lands square on the seam of her and you jolt just as much as she does, legs cricketing.

"keep misbehaving, you'll get your punishment now," uncle john warns, but you're angled wrong in his lap, and when his hand thumps threateningly against you, it's not your ass he squeezes in apology. you try to swallow the little noise it elicits, but your throat is too dry, the resulting gulp audible even to him. he just chuckles, broad palm moving to cup your mound. "unless that's what you want?"

you shake your head, but it doesn't matter. not when papa has noticed, pausing as he rubs over sweetpea's rear again, barely even looking at how she squirms beneath him. "reward her for watching. being brave. will remind your parshivets why we're here, no?"

john just chuckles, a thin breathy thing that ghosts over your temple just as his fingers trace up your thigh. "whatever you think is best," he repeats, and you try to wriggle away until papa's voice calls to you.

"milaya. look at me." you wilt when you do, his dark eyes focused entirely on you for the first time all night, making your preen even as uncle john's fingers find your cunt, his groan of approval only proving your shame. "what number are we at?"

you blink, confused, and papa just tuts, gives sweetpea a harsh swat that has her trying to crawl out of his lap, held in place by the thick arm wrapped around her waist. you want to catch her eye, see if she's okay, but she can't rip her baleful stare away from where her father sinks into you, thick fingers sliding easily through your slick.

she looks on the verge of throwing another fit. looks too fucked out and tired to bother.

"what number are we at, milaya?"

uncle john pulls a gasp from you, clever fingers hooking against your spongy wall. "i - i don't know," you stutter, and cringe when he just tuts, fingers digging cruelly into sweetpea's ass again.

"from the beginning, then."

[gothamite-rambler]

"Why does he keep aiming for that spot?!" (using DBZA lines)

Batman lay face down on the ground, groaning in pain. His groin throbbed painfully from two brutal kicks delivered by Lex Luthor's nearly steel-toed boot, nestled within that ridiculous suit of his.

Superman stood nearby, sympathetic to his friend's plight but secretly grateful it wasn’t him on the receiving end.

Superman (comfortingly): So, uh, you doing okay, B?

Batman (buried rage, sarcastic): He kicked me in the groin twice with that damn boot. You think I'm doing okay?

Superman: It can't be that bad, can it?

Batman growled in response, still writhing in discomfort. He was familiar with the idea of turning pain into strength, but this was an entirely different matter. Lex relished seeing the caped crusader in such distress.

Batman: Let me do the same to you three times!

Superman (taking a step away): Nah, I'm good.

Lex (cocky): Ah ha! Look at me, I've got the upper hand on Batman! This is a great day!

Superman (pointing at Batman): All you’re doing is kicking him in the crotch! That’s a low blow, literally!

Batman (deadpan, still laying on the ground): I hate you right now for saying that. And I hate Lex for putting me through this.

Lex: Well, that's what he gets for thwarting my plan to eliminate you! He’s lucky all I did was kick him where it hurts. With a limp dick like that, I can’t imagine he gets much action anyway.

Batman struggled to stand to his feet, Superman tried to stop him, but it was too late. Fueled by frustration, he lunged at Lex, but the villain seized his fist and swiftly delivered a third kick to his groin. Batman whimpered and fell forward.

Batman (with a heavy sigh, fighting back tears): Oh God, that hurt even more than the first two!

Superman (glaring at Lex): Dude, seriously, knock it off! That's the lowest type of fighting. I rephrased it for you, best buddy.

Batman (weakly, eyebrow twitching): Don't call me that while we're in the middle of a fight!

Lex: You’re losing this fight, Batman. You’re so stubborn—just stay down, you weak beta! Unlike me and my super suit!

Batman rose to his feet once more, refusing to give up, which made Superman shielded his eyes in embarrassment. Lex retaliated with a punch that sent Batman sprawling backward.

Superman (mumbling): At least it wasn't the crotch that time.

Undeterred, Batman charged again, only to be knocked down once more. Superman quickly sidestepped, narrowly avoiding a collision with Batman as he crashed to the ground for the second time.

Superman (frustrated): Batman, can we team up to fight him already?!

Batman (on his knees, gasping): Just… give me a minute.

Lex (annoyed): Ugh, he is persistent.

Superman: You have no idea.

Batman charged at Lex and was punched back again, avoiding colliding into Superman again.

Superman: He’s actually a really decent guy once you take the time to know him.

Lex (teasingly): Doubtful.

Superman: He’s usually calmer than this, but you did insult some of his family. That’s a sensitive topic for him.

Lex (uninterested): Don’t care, Superpussy.

Superman rolled his eyes. Batman, clearly in agony, mustered the strength to spring to his feet one last time, but it quickly became apparent that Lex was enjoying this brutal exchange as he kicked him in the groin for a fourth time. Batman regretted not adding a codpiece to his suit.

Superman: Can we call for a time-out before he makes himself infertile?

Lex laughed and, with a triumphant nod, walked away. Superman approached Batman, who lay on the ground, desperately trying to suppress his screams.

Batman (pained confusion): He keeps kicking me in the dick—why? Why does he keep kicking me in the dick?!

Superman: He just doesn’t like you. Welcome to the Lex Club. But I think I have a good idea.

Batman (with fierce indignation): If you suggest you hit him really hard, I swear I’ll kick you in the dick with kryptonite shoes!

Superman: Well, we could… hit him really hard—

Batman growled in pain, doubled over.

Superman (nervous smile): Together?

Batman (with reluctant resignation): Whatever.

--- Three hours later ---

Wonder Woman laughed hysterically as Batman, now out of his suit, iced his groin while lying flat on the floor. Unfortunately, the ice didn’t take away the pain.

Batman (groggy): This is not funny!

Wonder Woman: I’m sorry—no, I’m not! I can’t believe he kept targeting your crotch. Why didn’t you stop charging at him after the second kick?

Batman (weakly): Because the Batman doesn’t go down easily!

Wonder Woman: Or because you’re the type of man to engage in a dick-measuring contest with a villain. And he wasn’t even one of yours!

Her laughter only intensified as Batman scowled, frustrated that she had a point. He certainly didn’t want Lex to get away with his jibes about Nightwing.

Wonder Woman: What happened to your pre-planning?

Superman: He was pretty enraged, to be honest. Lex made a lot of insults about Damian and Nightwing, but at least we finally took him down together. I told you hitting him really hard would work!

Wonder Woman (still chuckling): I love that you risked your normal bathroom habits and the chance of having kids just because you didn’t want to let Superman help you.

Batman remained silent, choosing to lay there, engulfed in both pain and embarrassment.

[haveyouseenthisskeleton]

Heyy, how would the main 10 skeletons react if their S/O dislocated their knee? I legit just dislocated my knee and it hurts so bad 😭

Undertale Sans - He immobilizes your leg with blue magic so it hurts less and he teleports straight to the hospital. He stays calm externally and jokes with you to keep you calm, but man, he is screaming inside. That's a sight he for sure didn't need to see. It's haunting him.

Undertale Papyrus - He doesn't know what to do about that? If it was his knee, he would just pop it right into place but he's a little scared he might make things worse with how strong he is. But seeing you whine on the floor makes him act anyway, he can't let you like this. I have two news for you though. Your knee is back in place, hooray! ... But he broke your ankle trying to pull hard lol. Papyrus feels horrible and won't even look at you in the eyes even if you keep telling him you're not mad at him.

Underswap Sans - It's happening all the time with his brother so he randomly screams "LOOK A TIGER!" and as you turn to look at whatever he's pointing, he grabs your knee and pops it back into place. Uh. Well. That was something. You hated the sound it made though. He calls an ambulance after that, as he's scared your dislocation is not exactly the same as the skeletons could have, and he was quite right.

Underswap Papyrus - That's his worst nightmare. Honey already hates it when it's happening to him because his knees are quite fragile, but seeing it on someone else, it's... It's too much. You scream as you see him start to faint but can't do anything to prevent him from passing out next to you lol. You know he'll probably be out for a few hours and the phone is far away. Welp. I hope you're not in a hurry because you're not moving from there before Blue returns from his shift at the police station.

Underfell Sans - He's panicking as you're crying and rolling on the floor. The hell you want him to do? Use words! He has no idea what to do, he needs instructions and simple comprehensible words to act! He's pretty sure you're dying for now and he just wants to cry. Help him to help you god dammit!

Underfell Papyrus - He sighs as you cry on the floor, takes all the time in the world to get up from the couch, pushes you on your side with his foot, stomps hard on your knee, making you scream in agony but popping the knee back to place, calls you a drama queen and goes back to sit in the couch. Wow. You've never felt so insulted by someone saving your life. You're the one calling the ambulance lol. He's stubborn and still thinks you're acting.

Horrortale Sans - He runs to ask for help to Willow, but when Willow asks him what's wrong, he just blinks. Uh. What's going on again? Oh well, if he forgot that was probably not that important. Maybe he's tired, he's going to nap. Meanwhile, you are in the chicken coop, screaming in agony. You're going to wait for a very long time... Willow finds you a few hours later crying and hugging a chicken to comfort yourself lol. Oak is so going to hide from you for a few days, scared you're mad at him forever.

Horrortale Papyrus - He stays calm and gently helps you to relax as he talks to you about random things. You don't notice his hands slowly getting close to your knee and can only gasp as your knee suddenly snaps back into place. Willow keeps talking to keep you calm as he starts to use healing magic on your leg and call an ambulance. He's kinda used to this by now. Because his growth was all wrong, it happens quite often to him. He's so in pain all the time he barely feels it anymore, which is... Uh. Concerning, actually.

Swapfell Sans - He stares at your knee with a disgusted expression as you scream at him to stop staring and do something. What the hell do you want him to do? He's a soldier, not a doctor, and he's definitely not touching the alien egg in your leg that you claim is your knee simply not in the right place. He calls an ambulance and then grabs a broom to keep you at safe distance from him. You're so offended. You can't wait to be able to walk again to hit him in the face.

Swapfell Papyrus - He's a bit freaking out right now, not knowing what to do. He tried to touch it, but you screamed in agony and now he doesn't want to touch it again, scared he's going to hurt you. He calls an ambulance and simply tries to distract you with jokes as he anxiously waits for help. He's kinda relieved when the doctors say it's not that serious and that you'll be better already in a few hours.

Fellswap Gold Sans - He picks you up with his magic and carries you above his head to the hospital. The doctor said you can't move while you're waiting for a doctor so he keeps you above his head the entire time lol. Everyone is staring at you and you're so embarrassed, but Wine doesn't really care. At least, his magic is easing the pain, so you're holding on.

Fellswap Gold Papyrus - You're screaming. He's screaming. Everyone is screaming. Coffee is horrified and has no idea what he can do to help. He's already in the middle of a panic attack and now you have to deal both with your knee and Coffee not being able to breathe. You manage to convince him to give you his phone and you manage to call an ambulance. That's not a very good day lol.

[lowpolynpixelated]

Call of Duty and the beast that must die

Written by: Clair Beckett

Upon booting up Call of Duty: Black Ops 6 for the first time I was assaulted with a modern "Marvel" type banner, proudly declaring the expansive media franchise that is CALL OF DUTY. I was then given three different screens filled with the names of game studios swallowed by the machine in the series' long and crumbling history of game after game after game. Call of Duty claims itself a pillar of the industry. One of the many posts that hold up the very sky of the video game landscape. It stands now before me, million dollar propaganda for the US military starring Spawn and Nicki Minaj for a limited time only, but only if you can pay the price of admission.

The next thing I was told, of course, was to make an Activision account. The game then prompted me to add my phone number and restart the game twice to make sure that all the personal data it wanted from me was set to go. Modern video games have gone so far beyond what they began as and yet they still ride the corpses of the culture the executives strangled to death loudly and proudly. Remember COD4? Remember Modern Warfare 2? Well we do! And we're happy to announce that we've rewritten and re-released them for $70 with extra US warcrimes written to look like the russians did it! Buy now and get a new golden skin for the gun that will only be in the cash shop rotation for the next two weeks!

Loading into the launchers that games like Halo and Call of Duty have become is insulting. But at least Halo has the dignity to somewhat look like a game instead of a collection of repackaged and hastily made content so that you can push its cosmetics exchange and season passes safely underneath some menus so they don't bother while you try to do the thing you paid for without logging in to your Microsoft account first. No, Call of Duty loads you into a fantastic screen filled with games you COULD own and cosmetics it wants you to spend the money on first. But how did this happen? I thought we were going to vote with our wallets? Show those big companies that we're not gonna take it anymore! Well, astute video gameist, we did. Or, folks like you did, and the resounding answer was "more forever so the money we're making off these pre-order bonuses and cosmetic mircotransations." Except it hasn't slowed down? Has it? So called "microtransactions" have ballooned up to upwards of $20 for single weapon skins or character packs, art that is made at the behest of artists who are cycled out of the offices like so many reams of paper wasted on stock reports.

Call of Duty wastes 0 time showing you all the ways you can spend money every way possible. If you select the game you "own" you'll first be prompted to upgrade to the ultimate edition, then when you select multiplayer you'll be prompted to purchase this month's battlepass, when you select what character you want to present as on each team you get bombarded with skins, pricetags displayed proudly larger than the actual name of the skin. Too, damn, far. Is what this nonsense is. Far be it from me to lay down my journalistic integrity for the absolute slog that fucking Call of Duty has become, but is this really what we play now? Is this what the multi-million dollar companies have to offer? Do you think that anyone working on these games had their passion cared for? Their intent respected? The answer, dear reader, is no.

No, no this isn't about video games anymore. But your average "gamer", as it were, hasn't cared about this in about 10 years. The "gamer culture" that has been fostered within the triple A sphere of the landscape is one of complacency and non questioning attitudes of "the next big thing must be the best because it's the next and the biggest!" when in actuality it's just the biggest number of people laid off without notice and the biggest return for five people in thousand dollar suits. Modern Call of Duty props itself up on the idea of legacy. The idea that the name itself is enough to warrant the money you pay for the content it will legally take away from you in a matter of a few short years so they can save on server costs. But what IS the legacy of Call of Duty? The original titles helped shape the first person shooter landscape, and the fourth title revolutionized multiplayer action games alongside the likes of Halo, but what came after? Almost immediately after COD4's smashing success it traded any sort of message and want for things like gameplay innovation or narrative cohesiveness for an iterative cycle at the behest of a publisher in some of the early days of the triple A landscape becoming a barren sprawl of corporate greed. Mind you I said some of the early days, corporate greed has always been intrinsically tied to the video game landscape but I digress. Call of Duty became one of the first annual franchises. Swapping developer each year back and forth to make games that were baseline iterative on the last promising "bigger and better but also the same, we promise" ad nauseam until something had to give. Modern Warfare 2 is heralded as a gold standard for the series, but it mostly has to do with the most memorable levels letting you gun down civilians in an airport. Otherwise it was the same jarheaded OO-RA gun em' down action that the first game had, minus some rather potent anti-war sentiments.

Call of Duty's legacy then is one of "gamer culture", fiercely embroiled in charging the most for the least at the promise of it being the very bleeding edge of what your new several hundred dollar machine can do. The idea of the annual franchise sold more than consoles it sold promises to people, and executives loved that. The culture I speak of you can see everwhere in the mid to late 2000s and early to mid 2010s before the absurdity of it all really started to take root. From Mountain Dew cans boasting cool spec ops dudes in tactical gear and offering double XP should you buy the sugary sludge, to commercials starring then YouTube celebrities famous for blowing things up with military grade firearms on empty land. Gamer culture was and still is top priority in ensuring people don't question the quality or practices of the things they're being sold now. As long as a company can tug on the heartstrings of millions by saying things like "We grew up playing (insert late 90s/early 2000s video game title here) so we get what makes games fun." They have carte blanche to repackage, resell, and further monetize things that should not cost that much if anything at all. The idea that the name "Call of Duty" should stand as the base pricepoint to sell you a launcher to host all the games you could own while barely showing you the ones you do is that corporate greed taken to such a far extreme it's maddening to think about why people aren't more fucking angry about this.

The great Stephanie Sterling has long spoken on points like this about companies like Activision/Blizzard, Nintendo, and EA. Titans of the industry now only famous for how many people they layoff every few months and how much they charge for games that shouldn't cost that much. In a 2019 article on how Apex Legends ended up saving Electronic Arts from major stock crashes, she said the following:

"Last generation saw the rise of the “fee to pay” game. The PlayStation 3 and Xbox 360 made online connectivity obligatory for modern consoles, and it was only a matter of time because videogame publishers smelled an opportunity to make money from constant access to their customers. Full premium expansions for videogames gave way to downloadable content, which in turn gave way to microtransactions appropriated from free-to-play games. Only, they never made the games containing them free.

New “AAA” titles saw their entire in-game economies overhauled for the worse in order to support microtransactions. Dead Space 3, notoriously, had to reduce all its horror elements and become a traditional action game to support a desperate weapon crafting economy. This was excused by pundits and spokespeople as offering players a “choice,” without addressing the fact that psychologically manipulative gameplay elements were not things we could opt out of in the games we were paying sixty dollars for.

Having gotten away with it, however, publishers only grew worse. With traditional DLC, season passes, and multiple special editions, many companies have more than quadrupled down on their monetization, and modern games are slowly - subtly - starting to resemble starter packs more than finished products."

-Stephanie Sterling, "How Apex Legends Saved EA's Ass... In Spite of EA", Feb. 12, 2019

In microcosm I think this perfectly encapsulates what the new legacy of things like Call of Duty is. Full and even fuller priced games being stocked with more and more transactions to pull the most out of the consumer without giving anything meaningful in return. Virtual rewards for real world currency that can be taken away at a moment's notice. Fortnite is most famous for popularizing the "battlepass" style of monetization and rotating cash shop storefronts. By having you purchase funny in-game tokens to buy your skins it hoped to have you forget about the 30$ you just spent on said tokens. Call of Duty and its piers have no such interests. No, cold hard cash is the only way it presents its purchasable garbage and that's what you pay each time you give in to one of it's dozens of FOMO inducing splash screens and reminders. You are taken advantage of for your money. That's not even to touch on the genre destroying concept of "crossover content" which only serves to further drive the idea of sales over substance, with more of your favourite characters and celebrities being added to these games in the form of poorly animated and uncanny models for 20$ a pop.

This new form of selling a legacy can only end in more of the same. More skilled artists, developers, and writers being laid off into an industry that cannot afford to hire them back. Infinite growth has already reached it's glass ceiling and is pretending that it simply cannot see it due to it's see-through nature. These giants of the industry, these beasts, must die to see meaningful creative growth return to such spheres as the triple A landscape. The old must give way to the new, the nostalgia has been wrung out like so many drops from an already dry sponge. Name's are not worth paying for, and neither are concepts. We must think and act critically of these systems if we are to escape them. Voting with your wallet is a false initiative. Participating in the market they have a stranglehold on cannot lead to their downfall. This is all to say the following: Stop buying this nonsense. Look more into the independent scene. Find your new favourite games through channels like itch.io or the "indie" spaces on the other major storefronts. Pay for the games that care about what they are. And for the love of everything stop purchasing US Army propaganda. I'd like to recommend the likes of Stephanie Sterling, as previously mentioned, who's journalistic integrity and strength has persevered through some of the worst of gaming's tumultuous history. Jacob Geller, who's introspective analysis of video games as pieces of living breathing art tell so much about the passion and craft that goes into something as commonplace as "a video game". And finally Noah Caldwell-Gervais, a man who I can only describe as one of the most earnest, honest, and just plain down-to-earth guys to ever grace the gaming landscape. These three along with countless others are avenues into further understanding the type of landscape video games exist in in the modern day. I hope you come away from either this article or their work with something new, be it a game or a thought on all this mess. Thanks for reading.

Sources and links:

"How Apex Legends Saved EA's Ass... In Spite of EA"

Stephanie Sterling's work

Analyzing Every Torture Scene in Call of Duty — All 46 of Them (Jacob Geller)

How Many Clicks Does It Take To Get to the Center of Diablo? [A Franchise Retrospective] (Noah Gervais)

[gender-critical-analytical]

the way some of you clearly think bisexuals don't experience actual attraction and feelings for people, but rather decide ahead of time if they want a man or a woman this time and then just go and pick whoever comes into their line of sight next is so obvious and definitely makes me think you all don't need to speak on things you don't know about