#you're a comedic genius

[yangjeongin]

hyun.ear's holiday

[ermingarden]

So, first of all, I'm never going to be able to look at a thinkpad again without wanting to laugh - thanks?

Second, this got me really curious, and it looks like the original thinkpad had the clitoris (whose legal name is apparently the "TrackPoint") but did not yet have a trackpad like a modern laptop, so the clit was the only way to control the cursor. So when they eventually added a trackpad, people were already used to the clit...and as residents of a website where people get hopping mad when the background is changed to a different shade of blue, we know how much people love change!

The company does also note that you can control the cursor with the clit without taking your fingers off the home row of the keyboard, which I suppose might be an advantage in some situations, although I think it would take a lot of dedicated practice with the clit to develop that kind of dexterity.

Honestly, at this point I would guess it's mostly there for branding purposes, making thinkpads visually distinct. Because it does just control the cursor.

can anyone explain to me whats the purpose of the thinkpad clitoris

[abugidaithink]

using a door to mine underwater should be called "breaking and entering" let's be honest

[italiantea]

hello dearest mutual. I am waving at you from the shadow realm. it's so dark in here. if I could I would give u cards from the sidelines to support your duel. (you realize they're all off brand pokemon cards but it's the thought that counts.)

anyway unfortunately im the kind of guy who listens to the same thing every day for months on end so I can't say I've branched out to new taiwanese indie bands :///

one band I've found through a collab with vast & hazy is mary see the future

particularly this song

(disclaimer: I have not listened to many of their songs. I won't sit here and be a fake fan. but hey it's a pretty cool song)

as for taiwanese artists in general, I'd point you towards ?te, whom I can only describe as cool sexy faceless lady with a Very big hat. she does multilingual R&B. very chill and groovy. and sexy. did I mention she dropped out of med school and made a song titled fuck in italian? she's so cool

and lastly for underrated music I'd like to plug this song demo, recently featured in an Adam Neely music critique video. incredibly talented, Vibes off the charts.

[fvrsaeken]

hence the chicken

[hotcupoteckla]

I really hate it when people try to "correct" the song Ironic, because No it wasn't "Ironic" but now you've fucking missed the irony present, you utterly rusted tool.

[ice-cream-writes-stuff]

Spider and Bat Snippets!

[Part 1] [Part 3]

Spider!(Y/N): Oh! Yeah, Batman is the second funiest guy I know.

Batmam: (Slowly blinking.)

Spider!(Y/N): See! A comedic genius!

Flash: Who's the first?

Spider!(Y/N): My nieghbor, Frank!

-

"I'm just so worried how to ask them.." "

Frowning in thought, you glance at the crowd of prestige and wealth. Frank sighs gloomily, adjusting his bow-tie, the fun color matching your outfit.

"Well, I'll show so you don't have to worry! I'll ask someone out right now!" You huff courageously.

"(Y/N)-!" Frank whines at you. Tugging at your arm quickly so you wouldn't do something so idiotic. But you resisted! Skipping around the vast ballroom with your buddy trailing behind.

The Wayne heir, overhearing the discussion, straightens his back slightly. Scaning over his suit in case of any stains from the wine glass he held. Finding none, he smirks, readying himself for your pursuit.

Hearing your excited footsteps, he sips his wine casually. Acting non-chalant as he was, "Brucie Wayne" tonight.

"Excuse me, hello!" You chirp.

Slowly turning around, lips kissing the rim of his glass. He grined-

You pass him by easily, walking over to a grumpy older gentleman. "Would you wanna' go out some time?" You questioned.

The man sneers, looking you up and down. Scoffing at your display of obliviousness. "I'd rather not, young lady." He snipped distastefully, as his friends chuckled snootily. "I have better.. Investments, who are more poised and respectable than your imbecile nature." He huffed, storming off as his lackys followed.

Frank walks to your side, worriedly checking your expression.

Blinking, you frown, glancing at your friend. "Hm. Well, that's not a good example... Sorry Frank." You state with a good-natured shrug.

"Augh... That was more embarrssing than-Than.. Oh! I don't even know!" Franks drags you along to the food table. Chiding you for your antics while you nod along, grabbing a few tiny cakes from the dessert table.

"Excuse me? Miss." A composed and charming voice breaks through your friends rant.

Turning around, you stare at the newcommer.

"I couldn't help but overhear-"

"Cupcake?"

You offer a plate, holding the tasty pastry out to him politely.

Taking it in stride, his fingers linger around your wrist as he acepts the item. "Thank you."

You beam, a gummy smile on your lips as you nod. Turning away from him, attention back on your friend.

"Don't worry Frank, I, may not as good at flirting..." You pause, grabbing another cupcake, offering one to the unknown man beside you. He smiles sweetly, wordlessly thanking you.

You grab a tasty cream puff for yourself.

"...But?"

"Hm? Oh... Right! You'll be better at it than I am! For sure." Stuffing the treat down your throat, you take Franks arm and walk away.

"...." Eye slighty twitching at the encounter, Bruce sips his wine. Glancing at the two little treats that sat on his plate.

-

"B? What's wrong?" Fretting over him was a common thing for you at this point. While you trusted him more than anyone should. You still were a nosy spider.

"B..?" You tag at his cape, before crawling on his shoulders.

"B!" You lean your head over him. Watching him lower his head back to his bat-communicator. Biting your lip, you huff at him.

"Batsy?" That earned you a pinch on your calves.

"OW-ch! Hey!?" You grumble, barely keeping yourself afloat on his back. Leaning back and forth unsteadily until you grabbed his cowls ears.

"Phew~..." You let out a sigh of relief as you hear your partner grunt. "You're the one giving me the silent treatment on patrol." You grumble quietly, pulling at his cowl with a harsh tug as he smacked your hand away.

"Hey, B?"

"..."

"... I like you too B." You smile, as you hear him scoff. Giggling, you adjust yourself, taking out your web shooter. "You're amazing! Spectacular, even!" You hop off him and walk forward. Shooting out a web, you watch him stalk forward. Gazing farway as you notice the Bat-Burger ad.

"Huh!? No way.. Your serious?" You squeak out, jittering in place as he silently nods.

"Okay-! Yes! Oh, we should probably get Robin some food too!" You ramble as your partner takes out his bat-grapling hook. You shoot out a web and dash forward, jumping high as your web rockets yourself forward.

-

[Just a silly thing I wanted to post since I haven't wrote in a bit! I made this a while back, if you guys like the series let me know! Comments, Reblogs, fan art whatever is always Appreciated.]

[im-a-chunky-potato]

😃😃😃

Truer words have never been spoken:

That's right, this is what you get: MY SUPER LASER PISS!! Except I'm not gonna piss on the Earth, I'm gonna go higher; I'M PISSING ON THE MOON! How do you like that, Obama?! I PISSED ON THE MOON, YOU IDIOT!You have twenty-three hours before the piss D R O P L E T S hit the fucking Earth, now get outta my fucking sight, before I piss on you too!

Hshsjshhd if you don't know what this is from I'm sorry

siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiighhhhhhhhhhhh

[reallyreallyreallytrying]

i used to steal your posts to use as my facebook statuses when i was 14 and everyone thought i was a comedic genius and it stopped me getting bullied so thank you for that

endorsed. and you're welcome

[libraryofgage]

Addams Family Steddie AU Part 3

Part One | Part Two

To preface, a bitch is sick rn so if you see any typos, no you didn't lol

"Robin, this is serious."

Steve can perfectly see Robin rolling her eyes through the phone as she says, "Oh, right, I'm so sorry your fiance-to-be is the perfect boyfriend who takes you on wonderful dates and romances you every single second you're together."

"I'm starting to think you're jealous."

"I'd only be jealous if Eddie had tits."

"He'd probably get some if I asked."

In the silence that follows, Steve can imagine Robin's scrunched face: her crinkled nose and curled lips and generally disgusted eyebrow furrow. He counts down from six in his head and then mouths along as Robin says, "I'd hang up if I weren't so invested in your love life."

"For someone so invested, you're not helping."

He hears a put-upon sigh through the speaker and returns it with a sigh of his own. Steve gives up on sitting properly and collapses back onto his bed, staring at the unmoving ceiling fan Hulyet is currently hanging from to nap.

"Fine, fine, what's the actual problem again?" Robin asks, her question followed by the sound of her shutting a book (one of her science textbooks based on the sound it makes when closing) so she can give Steve her full attention.

"Eddie is always planning our dates, and they're always really good, right? So I want to plan a date in return, but I have no clue how to plan something we'll both equally enjoy. In fact, I have no clue how Eddie plans our dates in the first place."

"Just start with something he likes and try to find something you'll like in it."

"Okay, say it again, but pretend I'm five."

Robin sighs again, and Steve hears the creaking of her bed as she collapses onto it. "Okay, the last date he planned, it was a hockey game, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, you like sports. Hockey is an obvious jump from there, but was Eddie also having fun at the game?"

Steve hums, reviewing their date from the week before. He hadn't expected Eddie to pull out hockey tickets, but he'd looked forward to it nonetheless. The game itself was fun, and the rink was cold enough that Steve had been able to scoot closer to Eddie and complain about being chilly.

Of course, Eddie's immediate response was to pull out a lighter, open it, and flick a flame to life while asking, "How big of a fire do you want, Stevie?"

For a brief moment, Steve had considered the question. But then he'd realized a fire would disrupt the hockey game, so they probably shouldn't start one.

After grabbing the lighter and stuffing it into his own pocket, Steve leaned closer and whispered, "Wouldn't you rather put your arm around me?" Eddie had lit up, and his smile was wide enough to make Steve feel blinded as he wrapped an arm around Steve's waist and pulled him closer.

It had been wonderful and romantic, right up until both of them got way too into the game and completely forgot about cuddling in favor of shouting at the players to hit harder and actually draw some blood to get the puck.

Steve smiles a little at the memory. "Yeah, he enjoyed the violence."

"Well, we all enjoy seeing buff people get a little bloody," Robin says, and Steve can see the way she's nodding like a wise man. "Anyway, he probably knew he'd enjoy the whole violence part of the sport. So, follow that formula."

"What formula are you seeing here?"

"Thing fiance-to-be likes plus a small part of it you could probably enjoy equals romance. If that's too hard, just get him a gift and plan the date around that."

Well, it sounds easy when she says it like that. "Why didn't I think of that?"

"Because I'm the genius here, obviously. Now go plan a date so you can tell me all about it later. And I expect details, Steven. Sordid details. If I'm not quivering in my bodice, what's the fucking point."

"You don't even have a bodice. And my name isn't Steven."

"I'll get one, and your name is whatever's comedically appropriate."

"I found a good website for bodices and corsets, actually. I can send it to you."

"What are you doing on that website, Steve?" Robin asks, her voice light and eager.

Steve smirks, pulling the phone away from his ear and saying, "Wouldn't you like to know," before quickly hanging up. The phone stays silent for three whole seconds before Robin immediately calls back, but Steve is too busy laughing to actually pick up.

Part of why the Munsons moved to Steve's neighborhood is the cemetery within walking distance. The cemetery is at the very back of the neighborhood, hidden from people who don't actually live there. The front of the cemetery is perfectly presentable. The gravestones are clean and new, and flowers decorate most graves while others hold pebbles and stones of various sizes and colors.

The back of the cemetery, however, is a Munson paradise. The grass gives way to brown, under-watered weeds and dirt, the faded gravestones are covered in moss and plants climbing them, and the trees are perpetually leafless and spindly to create the perfect horror movie atmosphere. It was like that even before the Munsons moved to the neighborhood, but Steve doesn't actually know why.

The back of the cemetery is where Steve leads Eddie, occasionally looking back to make sure the blindfold covering Eddie's eyes is still in place. "You know, I was expecting more than walking when you pulled out the blindfold," Eddie says, squeezing Steve's hand.

"We're almost there," Steve promises, looking around them until he spots the picnic blanket and pillows he'd laid down earlier in front of a blank gravestone. There's a small projector on the edge of the blanket, facing the wall of a mausoleum, with a DVD player connected to it.

Steve stops at the edge of the blanket, takes a deep breath, and moves to stand in front of Eddie. "Okay," he says, reaching up and carefully pulling off the blindfold.

When it comes off, Eddie looks straight at Steve, not sparing a glance at the set-up behind him. "Are you the surprise?" he asks, sliding his hands around Steve's hips and pulling him closer.

"I'm not much of a surprise," Steve points out.

"You're the best gift I could ask for," Eddie says, sealing the words with a kiss that would be too easy for Steve to get lost in.

And he almost does, but he pulls away before Eddie's tongue can get too far into his mouth. "No, wait, you haven't seen the actual surprise," he mumbles, putting a few inches between them and gesturing to the picnic blanket.

Eddie's eyes light up, and he pulls Steve to the blanket. He sits against the headstone and tugs Steve down next to him. "Movie date in a graveyard? Very romantic, sweetheart," Eddie says, leaning close and kissing Steve's jaw.

"Well, that's not the whole surprise," Steve replies, leaning his head on Eddie's shoulder. He hears a quiet hum from above him and adds, "This is our spot."

"What? Like a make-out spot? We gonna sneak out in the middle of the night to make out right here twice a week?"

"Only twice?" Steve asks, his voice teasing as he tilts his head back to see Eddie smile. He doesn't give Eddie the chance to answer, though. Instead, he takes Eddie's hand and plays with his engaged-to-be-engaged ring. "I mean, this is our spot. We're leaning on our gravestone."

A few seconds pass before Eddie seems to actually process the words. When he does, he straightens up, tugging Steve away from the gravestone with him so he can see it. "Is this...a couple's plot?" he asks, his eyes wide as he looks from the stone to Steve.

Steve flushes, heat rising in his cheeks as he looks away. He takes a deep breath, deciding to just verbalize his thought process when he'd bought the plot. "I figured, well, we wouldn't want to be apart even in death. So we'll be buried together, you know? Our corpses will be embracing as we rot for eternity, becoming skeletons and dust that will only know each other."

The words are followed by silence, making Steve wonder if he somehow fucked up with his gift. He braces himself and glances up at Eddie to ask if he doesn't like it only to be pushed back on the blanket. Steve blinks, his brain barely catching up as Eddie kisses him. This is, by far, the most desperate kiss Steve has ever received from Eddie. It's a kiss that's practically begging Steve to give Eddie permission to swallow him whole, tuck him securely into the marrow of his bones, and hold him there so they'll never be apart.

Steve is a little confused, but he's far more interested in kissing back, sliding his fingers into Eddie's hair and tugging playfully as he bites Eddie's tongue. A rough growl in response sends shivers down Steve's spine, goosebumps spreading across his arms as Eddie pushes his hands under Steve's shirt.

Surprisingly warm fingers trail across Steve's abdomen before Eddie's hands settle on his hips, his pinkies teasingly pushing past the waistband of his jeans. Steve sighs softly, relaxing at the familiar sensation as he hooks one of his legs over Eddie's waist, pulling him close until their hips and chests are flush against each other.

Eddie grins against Steve's lips, his left hand trailing down Steve's waist to rest on his thigh, holding it in place as he teasingly grinds their hips together. Steve jolts, a surprised, quiet moan escaping him as his hands start to tremble with adrenaline and...well, sheer horniness if he's being honest.

"Please tell me we can fuck on our future grave," Eddie says, his voice low and husky as he speaks against Steve's lips.

Steve groans, fully agreeable to the idea only to realize two very important things. One, he doesn't have any lube, and two, he was actually looking forward to watching movies with Eddie, which wouldn't really happen if they got too distracted. Plus, you know, the whole sex in public thing, but that's not as big of a deal. Who's going to be visiting the cemetery on a Wednesday?

But Steve doesn't want to completely dash Eddie's hopes and the sheer joy in his eyes at the idea, so he presses another kiss to his lips and promises, "Later, Eddie."

Despite his disappointed expression, Eddie doesn't argue. He just sits up, pulling Steve with him so he stays in his lap. "I'll hold you to that, sweetheart," he whispers, kissing down Steve's neck until he reaches the point where it meets his shoulder. He bites down there, causing Steve to inhale sharply as he licks and sucks a hickey onto his skin.

Steve shakily exhales, biting his bottom lip to keep himself grounded. When it feels like Eddie is about to start on another hickey, Steve uses his grip on his hair to pull him back. "Stevie," Eddie breathes, his eyes dark as he looks up at him, "you know what pulling does to me."

Steve snorts, kisses his cheek, and climbs off his lap. "Keep it in your pants for now, babe. I actually want to get to the other part of this date," he says, moving over to the projector.

"And what's that?" Eddie asks.

"Classic monster movies," Steve says, grinning at the excited gasp that comes from Eddie as he turns on the projector. Once it boots up, the mausoleum wall shows the opening menu for a Monster Movie Collection DVD. Steve puts on Frankenstein, making sure the movie actually starts and the opening credits begin rolling before climbing back into Eddie's lap.

"I love you so fucking much," Eddie says, wrapping his arms around Steve's waist and hugging him close as he rests his chin on Steve's shoulder.

Steve grins, leaning back against him and idly playing with one of the rings on Eddie's fingers. "I love you, too. Now shut up and watch the movie. No more making out until at least this one is over."

"Yes, sir."

Steve can't help a soft laugh. He takes Eddie's hand, raises it to his lips, and playfully bites his palm before lacing their fingers together and focusing on the movie.

Tag List: @estrellami-1, @justforthedead89, @starman-jpg, @abstractnaturaldisaster, @sugartin, @ashwagandalf, @xjessicafaithx, If anyone else wants to be tagged in potential future parts, just let me know!

[weirdly-specific-but-ok]

*pats mic* *screeching feedback* HI MAGGOTS WE ARE SO BACK

I know it's been a fuckall month for everyone, and I hope the victims are doing okay and healing, and I am sending all the love to you and as Good Omens Mascot here is what I say: Don't let the world take away something that makes you happy. Engage with it critically and mindfully sure but don't feel guilty for wanting that one safe space you had. Because the people of the community are still lovely, this fandom is still home to so many amazing folks, and hang in there. And you are allowed to feel grief, or anger, or confusion. It's not selfish to feel emotions, it's human. Take care of yourselves, first.

I love you. Anyone who shames you for having loved a show and invalidates your emotions will get their vertebrae eaten by me.

AND NOW I FEEL LIKE WE NEED A LITTLE HUMOUR IN OUR LIVES SO. When I was in high school I had a total of two jokes. You now have the privilege of hearing them.

1. Frogs say ribbit. What does a negative exponent say?

...flippit.

2. What does the brain say before the exam?

...I'm nervous.

You're welcome I know I'm a once in a life comedic genius and this hellsite was dead without me tooooootally.

I LOVE YOU (also college starts day after tomorrow I am fucked but dont worry about that)

[adeptune01]

*over patrol headsets*

Tim: The most cringe board game is obviously "Sorry!"- what are you apologizing for? Your weakness?

Steph: No it's "Monopoly" 'cause it tells you the only way to win in capitalism is by cheating!

Duke: Just because you cheat at everything doesn't mean everybody else does. You're all letting "Scrabble" off easy- it's Nerd: The Game.

Jason: Don't you dare disrespect "Scrabble" only idiots don't like it. "Apples to Apples" clearly wins dumbest game because some people don't appreciate comedic genius.

Damian: "Clue" is the worst.

Dick: Don't you love murder mysteries?

Damian: Hard to imagine a more embarrassing death than being beaten by a candlestick in the spa by someone named Colonel Mustard.

Bruce: Do you all just make things up to argue about?

[theoceansluvr]

Percy Jackson x Surfer! Reader

warnings; none ! author's note; starting to notice how useful my obsession with the beach really is for writing.. thank you Amphitrite for this blessing !! my favorite sport and my favorite boy, literally perfect !

like my marnie biologist reader one, match destined by the Fates !

you probably met on the beach when percy was out at the cabin with his mom and he instantly knew he needed you in is life.

sally was honestly here for it because well, that's how she met Poseidon !

consider it a family meet cute that passes down from generation to generation

you guys collect seashells together ?

personally i'd say for jewelry making but that's up to y'all <9

you teaching percy how to surf and he's automatically good at it !!!

you think he's already done it before be he swears he's never even touched a surfboard before you met

just one of his lovely sea child traits i suppose

MATCHING BOARDS

percy def rides longboard but definitely tried shortboard once and fell into the water

def learned how to wax surfboards just for you !

goes to all your competitions if you compete

he only doesn't show up if it interferes with his swim meets

WHICH LEADS ME TO MY NEXT POINT !

he yaps about you to his team all time

like "Oh you're a good swimmer ? Well my partner is even better AND they surf !"

he's hopeless really

has grown so used to the smell of sunscreen at this point he could probably get the exact brand you use based on the scent alone

doesn't want to be in your way while you surf so he just sits in the sand and draws little hearts with your initials

you guys did that one trend where people find rocks on the beach that match their partners eye colors

you know the one

he learned how to wrap stones just so you guys could wear them as necklaces

(need someone like him so bad)

cruel summer coded relationship may i say ?

when you're just chillin' on the beach he always talks about how you could totally make it to the Olympics

you take his remarks at face value but it definitely helps with your confidence !

unironically says cowabunga now ??

you don't even use it, probably

he just thinks he's a comedic genius

freaked out a little when you turtle rolled in front of him

(i choked on water the first time so can't even blame the man)

thought you were going to drown then you popped back up and smiled at him like nothing happened

needless to say, that's how he learned that term

your first kiss was probably during sunset or something cheesy like that, sitting on your boards and he just

leans over and kisses you, ignoring the fact you tasted like saltwater because it was you

it's now a little tradition that you kiss before going out <9

ending it here because i can and will ramble about this man and surfing forever and ever😞

[starzwithapen]

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

JOHN DORY / READER ☆ DUET?

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈• ｡ﾟ

☆summary: Brozone happens to play on the radio, and JD's appalled to find out you're not a fan

☆content: reader is not a pop-troll, reader is gender neutral, lowkey crackfic lmao, established relationship

☆a/n: Silver wrote this one!! And okay we KNOW realistically JD would tell his partner about being in brozone but for the sake of the comedic factor in the fic he's hiding it shshsshshhsbshshsh

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

You'd been sitting in the driver's seat, driving Rhonda around [a rare occurrence, but JD indulged you just this once] while John Dory stirred his sugar into his mug, handing you yours with a kiss to your cheek. You nod at him gratefully, looking down at the buttons spread across in front of you, one of them particularly sticking out to you.

“Woah, wait, I didn't know Rhonda had a radio.”

John Dory leans against the back of your seat, arms wrapped around you from behind, “ehh, I don't use it often in case it scares off all the animals.”

He pokes your arm playfully, eyes glancing out the window, “we're pretty far out, though, should be fine to listen to some tunes.”

You insert a random channel number, turning the volume upwards. This one seems to be a host speaking about the weather, so you switch to the next- sounds like a cheesy pop song of some kind, probably a boy band. You snort at the lyrics- you didn't know anyone could fit that many synonyms of “girl” into one song.

You switch onto the next channel without catching John Dory's wide, shit-eating grin, and the immediate way his face practically crumples apart, “wuh- hey, what's wrong with that last song? It was really good.”

“Okay, I know you're a pop-troll,” you start, trying to find a channel with your preferred music, “but you have to remember I'm not. That stuff hurts my ears.”

John Dory leans backwards, arms crossing around his chest, “Okay, yeah, you don't like pop music, but why that song specifically? I was really jamming out to it, y'know.” He makes that smug smile of his that normally has your cheeks heating, “guy's a lyrical genius if you ask me.”

You stare at him, unimpressed, because he's got to be joking if he thinks that song has deep lyrics.

“JD, he just rhymed baby with baby. Three times in a row. Within the same chorus.”

“Hey, it's hard to think of rhymes that don't throw off the choreo, okay?” He points an accusing finger in your direction before pausing, forcing a nonchalant pose and pursing his lips, “Or- uh, or so I've heard.”

“Yeah, yeah, that's what you pop-trolls always say. I think that guy just needs to pick up a dictionary every once in a while.”

You don't actually care about the song that much, but seeing John Dory get this riled up over it is funny enough for you to go further,

“I bet you I could write a better song by the end of the week than that guy has his whole career.”

John Dory's grin turns wolfish, and oh boy, you should've known better than to try and challenge him, even jokingly,

“Oh you bet, do you? We'll see about that.”

—-------------------

This whole thing was going. Uh. Badly.

Your conversation had escalated into another one of your bets, which you surprisingly lose more often than not, most likely because you bite off more than you can chew. John Dory's unfortunately very aware of this, and throws you bait whenever he can. This time was no different. Winner gets one request for the loser.

You are not a song-writer by any means. You're a troll, yes, trolls sing and dance! But you don't write songs! The most experience you have with rhyming is a shitty poem you made as a teenager that never saw the light of day.

You'd started with listening to more of Brozone's music, and okay, you have to admit, some of their songs were actually really good okay. You'd caught yourself humming them more than once throughout the day, and John Dory always gives you that smug look from your peripherals before leaning in to kiss you senseless. He knew you were coming around to them and it was humiliating, and he was also concerningly elated by it.

While listening you've come to realise the lead singer sounds oddly similar to John Dory, just with a higher pitch and none of that raspiness. Like, freakishly similar. It's had you thinking John Dory's calling for you when he's just sound asleep, and the fact you misheard Brozone's “baby” or “honey” as JD is frankly embarrassing.

You groan and slump against the couch, the pen tumbling out your hand and clattering onto the ground below. Okay, you had to admit, this was really difficult. You were suddenly gaining so much more respect for boy bands.

You'd wanted to use this ridiculous bet as an opportunity to show off, or…even bring you and JD closer together- you know how important music is to him, so getting to write him a love song under the guise of a bet? It's a perfect chance handed to you on a silver platter!

But you just can't seem to think of the words- it's already been a week and so far you've written, what? 4 verses? And they all sucked. You wanted it to mean something- you wanted it to sound poetic and elegant and meaningful all at once, unlike those silly songs on the radio, but it just wouldn't work out!

You muffle a frustrated shout into your hands, pulling them away from your face when you hear footsteps, looking up to see John Dory towering over you.

“You give up yet?” His smile is adorable infuriating to look at, so you cast your gaze aside, huffing and grabbing your pen off the floor.

“No, ‘course not.”

He hums, patient for you to admit defeat, trying to take a peek at your notebook from up above, though you're not too worried since he can't read upside down [or at all, you've come to suspect].

“Okay, fine, I give up. You win.”

John Dory lets out a ‘whoop!’ and throws a fist upwards in celebration, smile so wide you're afraid he'll split his face apart.

You sigh, “Okay, hit me with it, I'm doing the dishes for a full week? Scrubbing Rhonda's windows?”

“Sing a duet with me.”

“This is so unfair, you know I hate doing the dishes- wait- huh?”

John Dory looks at you with a hopeful gleam in his eyes, holding his palm out for you to take, “Sing a duet with me. C'mon, don't think I haven't seen you swaying to my- uh, ahem, Brozone's music the past few days.”

He recovers quickly from his slip-up, tugging you upwards once you take his hand. He carefully starts up his record player, and you're surprised to find you recognise the song immediately, since it'd become a favourite of yours this past week.

“You know this one?” JD grins in your direction, one hand on your waist and the other on your shoulder, his touch gentle yet firm, “think I've heard you hum it a few too many times during breakfast.”

The song starts off slow, as does your dancing, the both of you simply swaying together- you don't exactly…dance often, so your movements are clumsy while his are self-assured.

The lyrics are cheesy, all about young teenage love, but…they make you feel giddy, your steps becoming lighter, your heart fluttering about. And, well, the song may not have deep mind-blowing lyrics, but you think that's the point of it. It's just meant to be fun, have your blood pumping and your heart soaring.

“We're grown adults, this song is for highschoolers.” You say, though your smile is fonder this time. John Dory chuckles and spins you around in his arms, making your head spin in more ways than one, your feet tripping up over his, “C’mon, live a little! Who says we can't be young and free in our mid-thirties?”

You stumble in place, trying to blink the dizziness out your eyes.

“JD, I'm gonna knock you out.” You try your best to grumble, but it only comes out flustered with how hot your cheeks are.

He smirks, twirling you around, “You've already knocked me-” his foot slides under yours, and you fall down into his arms with a yelp as he catches you in a perfect dip- “off my feet.”

Just before you can spew another insult at him for catching you off-gaurd like this, he leans in to kiss you, lips melding against yours sweetly. You melt into it, his arms secured around you so you don't fall, the music fading into background noise in your mind. You know your voice will be hoarse from singing and your muscles sore from dancing by the end of the night, and you wouldn't have it any other way.

⭑˚₊‧° ♢ 𓆩♡𓆪 ♢ °‧₊˚⭑

Would be superr cool if you left feedback if you enjoyed it's super helpful and much appreciated ! this guy is so cringefail I NEED HIM. -silver

[director-yomi-hellsmile]

sorry for taking parkour civilization 100% seriously i thought everybody else did so and turns out like literally almost all the people that watch it do so out of pure irony and i indeed am an outlier for not treating it as a shitpost I see like 978684 different comments about the comedic genius of evbo and I'm like what do you mean I heard the words "i realize it was written in parkour" come out of that man's mouth and thought it was a perfectly plausible concept. I am not locked in too hard actually irony poisoning truly destroyed yalls sense of Enjoying Things like come the fuck on everyone already thinks you're cringe for watching this shit would it kill you to be sincere about one thing for once. you will never survive the winter. pathetic

[radio-writes]

Love is Whatever You Can Still Betray

Synopsis: You recall a time when Alastor still saw you as friend, as an equal. You wonder: was any part of it even real?

Warnings: manipulation, mentions of drugs, violence and blood, physical harm to reader, power imbalance.

Tags: Relationship can be read in any way; Alastor x Reader; GN Reader

MDNI

At the back of your mind you vaguely remember a time when Husk had warned you. 

"He's a sweet talker when he needs to be. You'd be better off not trusting a bastard like him."

You think that's what the drunk cat had said. You're sure it was somewhere along those lines, at least. It was a fair bit of time ago.

However, you do remember—painfully clearly—that you had laughed him off. You found the mere idea of Alastor betraying your trust ridiculous.

The Radio Demon would never dare cross you. You were a powerful overlord; one that practically held the whole ring in the palm of their hands. And, more importantly, you were friends; one of the very few that either of you even had.

Surely even someone like Alastor would think twice about stabbing a beloved friend in the back, right?

You almost wanted to shoot yourself realizing how naive you've been.

Now, having been a brilliant chemist during your life on earth, it wasn't really much of a shock that you turned to drug production when you got to Hell. You had to make a living somehow, right?

Besides, with the quality of the drugs you made, it only took you a few months to have Pride Ring's whole drug operations under your thumb. 

But you were still so careful. You made sure to never deal with your clients or your distributers or your cartels directly. And on the rare times where you had to, you made sure to keep yourself as hidden as possible.

Very few people actually knew who this new Drug Demon was, and that's exactly how you wanted it be. You were smart, brilliant, a genius—if you do say so yourself; but what you weren't was strong.

Drug business in Hell was undoubtedly—and quite often literally—cutthroat. You wouldn't stand a chance if the enemies you made came after you, and you knew that. You'd probably have better chances of survival standing butt naked in the middle of the streets on extermination day. 

So it made sense that the few friends you held dear were the only ones you trusted with your secret—with your life. 

Alastor was...not really meant to be one of those friends.

Sure, he was the very first soul you met down here in Hell. You also both shared a love for soft jazz and easy nights and dancing your worries away. His dry comedic remarks and tendency to gossip made sure any time spent with him was entertaining enough to make you forget where you were, at least temporarily.

But still, you were cautious enough not to spill your darkest secrets to every charming young demon to slide to your side of the bar. Specially not to one that's been eager to steal your soul since the start.

Alastor was a friend, sure. But you weren't blind to all the blood he spilled, and much less so to just how much joy the Radio Demon got from it all. You hadn't failed to notice his grin stretching just a tad bit too wide, his eyes shining with glee with every limb he pulled from his victim's body. 

Often times you found it hard to connect your silly little friend, wagging his finger to the tune of the live music, with the demonic horror you've witnessed happily feast on the corpses of his unfortunate prey.

Of course, that eventually started to change.

You think, it all started on your One Year Anniversary in Hell. It's been decades since you've chained yourself to your current predicament, but the bitterness of that night was still so hard to swallow.

"Hardly anything to talk home about. Simply bumping gums with an old butter and egg man. But Oh! The drama when his children came in. Ha!" Alastor had been recalling some story that night. You barely understood a word of it, if you were being honest. Alastor had the tendency to use old timey phrases when drunk—whether as a genuine habit or to mess with you, you were unsure.

"Didn't take you to be type to cozy up to the rich folk." You had jested, sliding a shot glass over to your companion.

Alastor had caught it, downed its contents in one go, and smiled at you. "And I didn't take you to be such a light weight, old friend." Alastor mocked you.

You laughed it off, accepting and drinking the shot he then slid to you.

Your eyes glanced across the bar in front of you, several empty bottles of alcohol scattered about already. How much time had the two of you spent there? You were unsure. Clearly it was at least a few hours past closing time; but it's not like the cowering demon behind the bar had the guts to kick the Radio Demon out.

"I'm not the one swaying in my seat with every breeze, old friend." You bit back. 

"Ha! You must be absolutely stewed, dear. You're seeing things now!" He had slung a lanky arm over your shoulder, yanking you snugly to his side. 

For a moment, the room spun; taking a whole second before steadying again.

Sure, there had been a slight slur in Alastor's words underneath all the radio static, but the demon wasn't far off with his observation still. You admittedly did feel a bit tipsy. 

You had placed a hand on Alastor's chest, pushing yourself away from him, laughing all the while. "Watch the hair! You wouldn't want to piss me off now."

"Anger a sweet thing like you? Come now, you couldn't hurt a bee if it stung you in the eye," Alastor ruffled the hair on the top of your head as if to prove his point.

"Hey!— Fuck," You swore under your breath as you moved off your seat far too quickly.

Alastor materialized behind you, easily catching you by your elbows. 

"Steady now, dear! Seems you're a lot further gone than I expected you to be," He laughed.

You twisted around in his grip and poked his chest rather sluggishly. "I'd have you know I'm not the same weak soul you met a year ago,"

You should have stopped. It was only ever meant to be a joke.

Your body should have just blacked out.

"I happen to run all of Pride Ring. I can get your Great Depression ass hunted down for messing my hair up," You boasted.

Alastor didn't seem to take your words for anything more than drunk ramblings as he helped you up to your own feet. "Is that what they call my time? I happen to have found the whole stock market crash hilarious, not at all depressing." He mused, he seemed to have been ignoring your ramblings.

"I'm serious, you know!" You puffed up your chest proudly, wanting to be taken seriously, looking him straight in the eye.

"I am the great scary Drug Demon after all." 

You heard a record scratch.

Oh you were far beyond just tipsy.

You couldn't quite remember much else from that night. At least not after black tentacles swiftly protruded from Alastor's back, spearing right through the poor cowering bartender's chest. 

He said something too. Something about how your secret would be absolutely safe with him.

It took you a long time to realize why he had sounded so odd to you in that very moment. But eventually, as the times flew by, you realized it was because he had spoken straight—not a trace of slurring tainted his tone. But that was a realization that came far too late of course.

You had been worried, absolutely scared shitless when you had sobered up. You spilled your biggest secret to someone so infamous. Someone so happy to hog the spotlight for all of eternity. You felt as if you might as well have broadcasted your identity on live TV for all the good it'll do you now.

But the Radio Demon had proved himself to be quite the trustworthy confidant.

Surprisingly true to his word, Alastor had never let a word of your secret slip from his lips. Never once even hinted at it to anyone, not even in jest.

Instead, what he did do was help you in secret. He had fed you information on the ins and outs on different turfs on the Pentagram; down to the smallest of details. Who was itching for a fix, who would have given up anything for their next high, what down on their luck sinner was desperate enough for any means of escape. 

The promise of new information to help your business had made all your occasional catch-ups and night outs with Alastor all the more enticing for you. 

Not only would you be out and about with a dear friend, having fun, dancing, and drinking, but you'd also get a chance to grow your influence even more.

And hell be damned if that hadn't gotten your greed to grow.

It wasn't long until you trusted Alastor enough for the flow of information to turn into a two-way street.

When he had given you intel, you had thrown what you knew back at him. Desperate sinners, gangs, cults, that you cater to that could really use a trusty deal to get out of rough spots.

You had also found that Alastor, being the schemer that he was, made quite a good soundboard to bounce ideas on. He'd hear your plans out, help you hammer out the kinks before putting them into action.

He had been there to help you out of tight spots. 

He had been there to expanded your influence.

He had even been there to take care of any dumbass that dared to try to rival your business. 

But there had always been one nagging question just simply gnawing at the back of your mind.

"Your soul? What in Hell would I want with that?" Alastor laughed when you asked if you needed to sell him your soul in exchange for all this help.

"No, my dear. I simply want you to keep me company! It's so hard to find such a like-minded soul in this dreadful cesspool." He explained, taking your arm to loop around his as he had lead you to take a walk with him.

You were his friend he had said. And after all he's helped you with—after all the years spent drinking, gossiping, dancing, and scheming—you believed him.

So you didn't question it.

You didn't question it when one night people broke into your home. They had yelled for the Drug Demon. They yelled for you.

You simply had to run. Break through your window, caution thrown into the wind, and run.

You had no choice but to flee with no plan in mind, nothing in hand. Run with nothing but the clothes on your back.

You didn't question it when heads had turned to watch you as your ran through the streets. Hell's nightlife well and alive, but did nothing to help your pathetic self.

The whispers felt like screams in your ears. 

"The Drug Demon."

"That's them isn't it?"

The Drug Demon. The Drug Demon. The Drug Demon.

Everyone in the Pride Ring knew who you were.

You didn't question it when you had been cornered in an alley, a large hand squeezing your throat. Your body ached everywhere. 

How many times had they bashed your head against the concrete? How many times had they punched you in the gut? How many times had they kicked your ribs in as you laid whimpering on the ground?

You were in far too much pain to have kept count.

You didn't question it—you should have questioned it—when Alastor showed up. Skewering the sinner just as they held a knife to your throat. 

And stupidly, you still didn't question it when he made you that offer.

"You need to be much more careful than that, old pal." His gentle hand had patted dust off your shoulders. "You seem to be Hell's most wanted at the moment."

Your eyes had been wide as your body seemed to have moved by itself. Your arms wrapped around the Radio Demon in relief. "Alastor, thank fuck! I thought I was dead!"

You had felt his chest vibrate against your body as he laughed "My dear, you already are dead!" He joked, pulling your arms off him and stepping back. He had studied your shaking form, his grin stretched just the slightest bit more. "But I do say, you were lucky I was passing by just now. Can't say I can protect you all the time though."

Your throat had felt dry. You knew he was right. Had your good friend not been around, you were sure you'd have died right then.

Now that your secret was out, you needed Alastor. You needed his protection. 

"Can't I just stay with you? At least for a little bit." You had said—pleaded, your voice still unsteady from the fear that ran through your body. 

"Hmm?" Alastor's head tilted. He leaned his body on his cane in front of him. "Why of course you can! Although I don't quite see how that'll help much." He grinned.

"What do you mean?"

"Well, my dear, you've made quite a lot of enemies in the past few decades, haven't you? Torn apart many families and damned these poor souls further with all those recreational drugs of yours." In your distress, you had failed to catch the sheer glee in his tone.

Alastor melted into a pool of shadows, before he reappeared right behind you, his hands at your shoulders. You had jumped in his hold but it didn't seem to bother the demon. 

"Sure you can stay with me for a while, but what after?" His tone still as cheery as ever. "And what about when I just have to leave you? You can't expect me to be at your beck and call for every second, after all. I'm your dear friend, not a pet."

"Please, Al." You begged, turning around to face him. You weren't sure what you were even asking for. You weren't sure what you wanted him to even do. 

All you knew is that you were scared. You were scared because for how smart you were, you were sure there was no way you'd survive a night on your own now.

"Of course, there is something we could do to ensure you stay safe." Alastor had smiled at you, circling you like a vulture; elated that it was now the perfect time to swoop in on a long awaited meal.

"What?" You said, desperation clear in your voice.

"We could make a deal." He grinned.

You should have ran.

"A deal?" You asked, for all the fear you had, part of you was still wary.

"A deal." He confirmed. "If I owned your soul I could summon you whenever I want to. Should you fall into harm's way while I'm not around, I'd be able to pull you out and back to my side with a snap of my fingers."

You'd have been better off facing all the enemies you made. You should have ran.

"I can make sure you're safe and sound; untouched by all these ruffians after you. And it's not like you'll be selling your soul to a stranger now. Haven't I proven myself to be such a caring friend all these years?" His sickly sweet voice, and that overwhelming radio static filled your ears.

He had stopped in front of you, bent down to your height when he extended a hand your way. "So what do you say, darling? Do we have a deal?"

You should have known the worst creature stood in front of you. You'd have been better off facing all the enemies you made. You should have ran.

You bit your lip, eyes glanced away from Alastor in uncertainty. Surely, there must be other ways. If you could just have one night to think it through—

The sharp pain that had come from your back almost blinded you. 

"I found them! They're over here, fellas!" You had heard someone shout from behind you, at the opening of the alley.

Your arm reached behind you, feeling something sharp lodged into the back of your shoulder. Your hand quickly dampened by your own blood.

"Fuck. Fine, yes, it's a deal." You had hissed through your teeth before you could think. Your hand reaching out to clasp your friend's outstretched palm. 

A bright green light cut through the night's darkness, sealing your fate into Radio Demon's hands.

"Lovely." He drawled out, pulling you behind him as a flood of sinners made their way towards the pair of you.

"Pleasure doing business with you, boys, but I'm afraid I have no use for you anymore." Alastor had greeted the crowd.

"Who's this loser?"

"What the fuck is this bitch talking about?"

"Shut up and hand us that trash!"

You heard many replies to Alastor's words before the screaming started. Shadows ripped through the sinners as essily as if they were simply wet piles of tissue paper.

And then your blood ran cold. No, not because of the sound of flesh tearing from bone.

But because you were sure you had heard one of them say: "Weren't he the one that broadcasted Drug Bitch's name anyway?" 

Surely—surely—you had heard wrong, right?

"Why, of course, I did!" Alastor had cheerily answered you. "Got a good deal from it too. Couple of Overlords happily forked their souls over just to know your name!" 

It had been a couple of weeks after the deal when you finally worked up the courage to ask.

It hadn't been the answer you were hoping for. You had spent all this time convincing yourself that Alastor would have never done such a thing. That he was your beloved friend—your trusted friend. That he'd never have put you in harms way just to get a couple more souls under his belt. 

The tray you had held bent with the grip you had on it. "You sold me out?" You wished you could bash the tray over his stupid shit-eating grin.

"Hello? Yes, that's what I just said. Did you not hear me, pet?" He finally glanced up from the paper he was reading to meet your glare.

"Oh don't look at me like that," He said folding the newspaper and setting it aside. "You're no patsy, surely you saw it coming." 

"We were friends, Alastor!" Your voice had risen in volume.

A heavy, glowing collar materialized around your neck before you knew what was happening.

With a harsh tug you had stumbled, barely catching yourself on the armrests of Alastor's chair when he yanked you down to where he sat.

His free hand had reached up, anchoring itself heavily on your shoulder.

"Yes we were!" His voice was cheery, but there was an edge to his grin now. "That made the betraying part all the more entertaining, if you ask me." 

"You piece of shi—" Your voice caught in your throat, the collar shrinking around your neck.

"I don't quite appreciate that kind of disrespectful language, darling. Specially, not from my pets." His pupils had turned to radio dials as you fought hard against his pulling just to remain upright.

The rush of anger in your veins froze as you met his eyes. You had felt your blood turn to ice in that very instant.

You've been with this man for so long.

You've seen him skewer crowds of sinners without batting an eye. You've seen him swallow limbs whole with a smile.

You've seen him happily throw friends to their deaths for...entertainment? Was that what he said?

His grip on your shoulder had tightened. Claws dug into your flesh and ripped your recent wound wide open.

Your poor little broken, indignant, heart could wait.

With the flash of pain stinging up your arm, you knew that every second that passed without a reply from your lips was a step closer to death's door again.

So you willed yourself to speak, despite the collar barely allowing enough air to reach your lungs. You managed to struggle out a weary "Understood."

And in an instant, the chains were gone, Alastor was back leaning against his chair. Newspaper back in hands as he idly read the print.

You had clutched at your neck, greedily sucked in air as you stumbled backwards.

"I like my breakfast on the raw side, by the way. And no sugar in the coffee next time; I do have a distaste for sweet things," He said dismissively.

Normally, you'd have cussed at him. Flipped him off and walked away. But there had been no fight left in you then. Your world was reeling from the revelation, from the fact that your friend throughout all these years, didn't even feel the slightest bit of remorse for betraying you.

That he'd happily dispose of you himself for something as simple as disrespectful language.

You had meekly nodded, and hurried to leave the room.

Now you stood, listening to the princess of Hell herself rambling on about how much of a big help Alastor was to the hotel she made. How he's been so supportive.

How he's been such a good friend.

You just couldn't stop yourself.

"You know, your highness, Alastor's a sweet talker when he needs to be. You'd be better off not trusting a bastard like him."

She laughed you off. To her, the idea of Alastor betraying her trust was just absolutely ridiculous.

Surely he'd never betray a beloved friend, right?