#infamous asylum

[intheabsenceofbliss]

On a recent outing to research local resources for homeschool history lessons, we opted to explore the infamous 150 year old Wolston Park Mental Asylum a building now left to rot and decay . We took an interest in delving into its appalling history of placing children into adult asylums where they were subjected to ongoing horrors of electroshock, rape, forced pregnancies and abortions, abuse, torture, forced medicated control, silencing and likely paying the ultimate price of being murdered. While the government made an official apology it’s important to note here that these abuses began allegedly just two years after the asylum opened in 1865 and continued for over a century, reported as being a duration of 155 years with 50,000 inmates having been lodged within its infamous care . The Asylum was closed in 2001,

Survivors speak out , lifting the lid on their experiences within the asylum, haunted by events and the beastly goings on of staff , doctors, and people charged with caring for them as wards of the state . Many made wards of state had no cause to be there, but were forcibly detained into state care.

In 1869 plans for the site of the asylum indicated that a cemetery was established at the far western side of the grounds where the Woogaroo creek met the Brisbane River. With its own morgue and 3 cemeteries , It’s reported that as many as 2800 people were buried in trenches which acted as mass graves.

There were as many as 2300 tiles found marked with numbers which correlated to individual inmate numbers. Mass exhumations of corpses occurred but only the intact ones of under 50 years interment, these were placed in small boxes and moved to a large trench. These allegedly belong to the 200 moved to goodna cemetery.

A Mass gravesite memorial for the victims of Wolston Asylum , purported to contain 200 memorials was created at the rear boundary of Goodna cemetery , it contains only the numbered tiles representing a few of the victims , however plaques on the memorial point out that no actual remains were located within. The location of where these exhumed 200 were finally laid to rest in a trench remains a mystery but is claimed to also be within the property of the Goodna’s cemetery .

The remains of the other remaining 2300 inmates are allegedly not known ? The original morgue has been torn down, the smoke stack remains and can still be seen for miles a haunting blemish on the landscape. The river bank to the rear of the decaying building still contains markings of one of the first burial grounds of Wolston asylum.

Wolston asylum now known as The Park is in the suburb of Wacol . It is flanked by the river at its rear and the Wacol Correctional centre prison to its north east . A beautiful and thriving Golf Course and club house to its more southern aspect. A beautiful grounds to visit if you don’t Mind the increasing population of somewhat territorial kangaroos . 🦘 (forewarned is forearmed move on slowly and carefully avoiding proximity if they puff muscles up or grunt at you! )

There are numerous other buildings of brick and sandstone on the site still in use today and security guards traverse the expanse regularly with access to the public limited. As long as Wolston Park Asylum, remains a fascinating urban legend people will continue to try to enter the buildings and attempt to communicate with its lost inmates.

On Visiting the memorial site to confirm its existance, and pay my respects to the many missing souls lost, I felt a deep sadness , but this was quickly overcome by a feeling of overwhelming heaviness . Both my son and I spoke up to tell each other it felt hard to walk there as if some pull or force was trying to anchor us to it. We felt at several points almost rooted to the spot unable to shake the deep feeling which intensified as I stepped closer to the tiny plaques of commemoration to photograph them. What could be causing it? We don’t know but it was intense an ethereal sensation to be frank.

And I’m at a loss to understand the gravity of this sensation existing here given I’m Fully aware that no actual bodies were transported to the site ? So without them how can it be actually haunted? Are the markers all that is left for souls to attach to? 🤷🏻‍♀️ without delving into any further ghostly /spectral or soul attachment speculations I wonder if the feeling that overcame us wasn’t also just the full gravity and horror of bearing witness to the physical representation of the horrors reported through research into the history of the asylum and its horrifically unfortunate inmates.

After all Such a window of stark gravity into the terrifying reality of life for Wolston inmates was bound to leave a pall right?

I’ve since been made aware that many purported ghost hunters and self proclaimed social media icons have taken to filming here at night and attempting to converse with the tortured lost souls of Wolston asylum through the use of apps . Similarly many clips and tales can be found by urban adventurers on YouTube and other social sites wheee people have breached the security in place and entered the decaying institution , now bare of any floorboards to walk on making the infatuation with exploring the site a dangerous dice if explorers should misstep!

While ghosts and ghost hunting are interesting in their own right I can’t shake the feeling that these souls wish only to be left alone unbothered and at peace in death, as they could not be in life.

Perhaps we could do more to find their bodies? And pay them the ultimate and lasting respect of reuniting families with their actual last resting place.

I’m sure the government would just like this grand old institutional building to fade into the night and into history, gathering all her odious infamacy beneath her skirts and taking them with her as she is slowly reclaimed by the earth, perhaps in a few more centuries all her secrets will have expired with her perhaps urban legend and exploration will keep them alive .

I hope they never think to rebuild anything on this site, the walls would surely talk again!

[cool-abed-filmz]

“who taught him how to drive micheal myers?”

- my mom watching Lisa Frankenstein with me on monday

[lurvelybones]

Presenting the many book covers of Dale-Creek Hill. When I saw the first cover above in Wattpad, I was immediately interested. And I got hooked in the first chapter. I love my reading journey with the series, I simultaneously love and hate Sam and Michael. As for Ashley... Poor Ashley, I'll pay for your therapy jk 😭😂🤣 Hang on, girl! I hope The Casanovas will be published soon... And Ashley's Asylum... Can't wait! 😘💕

Ps, The wattpad version of Casanovas and Ashley's Asylum are still available on Wattpad! Check it out if you're interested.

The first book, Dale-Creek Hill, is finally available on Amazon ❤️❤️❤️ Go support Bea💓💓💓 She deserves it 💝💝💝

The first covers are really good imo.

[hardcoregamer]

13 Best Superhero Games, Ranked

The superhero genre is overloaded in the best way. From Marvel to DC and everything in between, fans can find something to enjoy. But a crowded space does make it tough to find the best superhero game.

Check them out!

https://hardcoregamer.com/best-superhero-games/

[liugeaux]

The Best Games of 2009 | A Pivotal Year

2009 was the year I went to E3. It was one of the most exciting trips I've ever taken and with it, came a tiny sample of what it would have been like to work in the games industry professionally. The whole idea behind these lists was to fill a gap in my experience before and since I took this trip. 2009 was also a huge year for me personally as it was when I moved back to the Jackson-Metro area and switched careers to my current one (still not in the games industry). So much has happened both in and out of the industry, this post will be a fun snapshot to explore.

Remember, (I say like anyone is reading) this post will be written as if it were published in December of 2009, so all critiques will be from that perspective. LFG!

#10 - Left 4 Dead 2

The original Left 4 Dead defined a brand-new corner of co-op gaming and by no means is it old or boring, so the sheer existence of Left 4 Dead 2 is shocking. It tweaks and improves basically everything from the first game and gives us new survivors and new infected. Valve hit us with the surprise announcement of L4D2 at E3 this year and that surprise likely won't disappear any time soon.

#9 - The Beatles: Rock Band

It's Rock Band, but The Beatles. I kind of wish it was more than that, but having a beautiful tribute to the most celebrated band in history in one of my favorite games is hard to complain about.

#8 - Trine

What feels like a simple platform game is actually an intriguing physics puzzle box dripping with medieval charm. Trine takes familiar concepts and glues them together in a game that borders on the exact right amount of chaos for the genre. More than once my heroes accidentally sent a magic box careering off the screen as my little brain tried to cheese a jump well enough to hit a ledge. Trine earns it's wackiness and is a breath of fresh air because of it.

#7 - Halo 3: ODST

It's Halo 3, but Blade Runner. Ok that's a bit dismissive, but who knew the tried and true formula of Halo would graft so well onto a cyberpunk-esq world. ODST could've just been a pallet swap with Oribital Drop Shock Troopers taking center stage, but the changes were much more game-altering. Most importantly it is has a sleeker vibe than the previous 3 games. OSDT is cool, the way Blade Runner's dark and always raining aesthetic is cool. Will it age as well as the other Halo games, who knows, but today ODST is super dope.

#6 - Borderlands

Part irreverent joke, part Diablo-inspired loot-a-thon, part RPG, part first-person action, Borderlands blends so many different things so well, its hard to believe we haven't been getting games like this for years. Oh and did I mention it's class-based too? Borderlands is the entire games industry in a blender, and then cell-shaded. It's not without its fair share of jank, but there is enough meat on the bone to confidently say Borderlands is one of the best games of the year.

#5 - Shadow Complex

The Metroidvania genre is a storied niche with some of the most fiercely beloved games in it. However, publishers will tell you, while they play well and score high in reviews, they don't sell well. This means they aren't as prevalent as your FPSs or straightforward platformers. Shadow Complex mixes everything you love from the genre and brings it into the modern era with competent puzzles and action and the forever memorial foam gun. Will SC usher in a new generation of Metroidvanias? Who knows, but it definitely has defined what it means to be a modern one.

#4 - inFAMOUS

Sucker Punch is no stranger to great Sony first-party games. Sly Cooper was quite a dark horse of the PS2 generation. inFAMOUS is the studio graduating to the big leagues. Taking their knowledge of open-world design and grafting it onto what is essentially a superhero story, really makes this game pop. Not every open world will keep your attention long term, but inFAMOUS will gladly steal hours upon hours of time stringing together compelling story and non-story activities. I'm not a huge fan of Cole as a character, but the story built around him is more than adequet.

#3 - Batman: Arkham Asylum

Arkham Asylum is the best example of a 3D Metroidvania since the Gamecube's Metroid Prime. The puzzle-box nature of getting around the Asylum grounds works on both a structural and narrative level. Detective vision is legitamately a revolutionary mechanic and the visercal feel of the combat, is surprisingly satisfying. All of this being in a licensed game is mindblowning. The odds say Batman Arkham Asylum should suck, but it might just have ushered in a new direction for licensed games.

#2 - Assassin's Creed II

When the first AC game came out it felt like the official beginning of the new console generation. There was a revolution in the way games were being made and AC's potential very much out weighed its execution. AC2 is the realization of all the previous game's ideas. Gone are most of the clunky assassination plots, blown open are the open world maps, Altiar is a much better character and Italy is a much better setting. AC2 isn't just the sequel, but a true 2.0 for a frachise that's just beginning to stretch its legs.

#1 - Uncharted 2: Among Thieves

So, here's where we are, video games are just movies now. Are we ok with that? It seems like we are, at least as long as the output is akin to Uncharted 2. Like Assassin's Creed 2, Drake's second outing is the realization of what Naughty Dog was trying the first time around. The story and action beats are as good as what you would find in the biggest budget summer blockbuster, and the characters are better. I've herd alot of chatter saying "Sony should make an Uncharted movie" and I say "nah, they already did." Dare I say Uncharted 2 is a perfect game? Maybe, but I will shout to the roof tops how perfect the already iconic train sequence is.

Noteable Omissions

Dragon Age Origins - RPGs and fantasy are not my thing, I've said it before and I'll say it again, it's probably great, but just not for me.

Demon's Souls - Nothing about Demon's Souls sounds appealing to me. A hyper hard Japanese developed fantasy action game that prioritizes frame animation over raw twitch timing? No thank you.

Bayonetta - I'm American, in America Bayonetta was released in 2010. Tune in next time to see if it makes the list.

Call of Duty: Modern Warfare 2 - Honestly, CoD:MW2 almost made the list. If this was top 11, you'd probably see it at the end of it.

Hmmm, I just noticed, there's no Nintendo on this list. Oh well, this was fun! catch you next time.

Cheers

[goryhorroor]

What are essay videos of horror movie you watch

oh my god yes, i have like an entire collection of them on youtube

how media scares us: the work of junji ito

what are we afraid of? societal fears reflected in film

the art of texas chainsaw massacre: making daylight scary

the importance of horror (why horror movies don't suck)

the grunge & ringu: what makes japanese horror creepy?

the vvitch - art of terror

how horror movies for kids dominated in the 90s

the shining analysis - tension, atompshere & mystery

creating suspence in a horror films

the art of scream: horror logic done right

wolf creek: australia's most infamous horror movie

why cosmic horror is hard to make

color theory in horror movies

society and queer horror

horror theory: the uncanny valley

the childhood horror of coraline

control, anatomy, and the legacy of the haunted house

elements of horror - don't look

the girlboss-ification of the horror genre

elements of horror - how eyes are used in horror movies

thai horror is so underrated

the history of insane asylums and horror movies

slender man (2018): misunderstanding ten years of the internet

the true history that inspired folk horror (part 1)

the true history that inspired folk horror (part 2)

the true history that inspired folk horror (part 3)

the history and evolution of jump scares

the complete history of horror movies

[auragasmics]

1:32 AM: A LOVE LETTER TO THE PRETTIEST GIRL!

spellbook intro! when Nanami takes a moment to study his wife after a date night, his heart pours out a soliloquy for the ages!

potion ingredients! 4.4k+, pwp(?), wife!reader x husband!nanami kento, fluff+ smut, fingering, clitslapping(1), cunnilingus, explict talk, mating press, grinding, allusions to sex (penetration), self-indulgent to the max ♥︎

note to casters! yeah, this is so indulgent. and i'm sorry i have to say this...p**** is pink :). grab a mirror and check for yourself.

Champagne. 

A drink known to be indulged during the most influential times of human history. It’s a famed tag that runs through nations upon nations, beloved by the heaven blend of Pinot, Meunier, and Chardonnay. It pulls the tongue into an envious ménage-à-trois between the rich taste and the cheeky spry bubbles seething one’s cheeks into a world of heat —all doomed to end once a swallow washes away all the bliss. 

From its days of ruling beside monarchy to its dwindled expression in the modern world, it has yet to lose its class. It still rules amongst those with exquisite, those who can handle the feverish rush of having rapture ruin all composure.  

It’s suitable for a man like Nanami to indulge in such refinement too, just a single sip from the tall slender glass seated beside his plate transports his mind into a place where the weight of a jewel-encrusted crown sits upon his head. And in this universe, he rules over a 64 square meter condo, a beloved lord sleeping in his king-sized bed, and a lawful husband to his queen. 

Another sip reminds him of the gracious air surrounding the night—a date night catered by a meal of shared efforts and a bottle of Nanami’s favorite champagne. It’s sweet like forbidden fruit, the heavenly delight soothing his woes. 

His gentle stare falls onto you, the infamous cinnamon fawning over how red complements your skin in that dress, over your delicate pout—no, obsessing over how your lips nurse the rim of the glass as if it were a kiss. As to how the heavens gifted a man such as he with one of their own angels, it’s a blessing he’s taken without a second thought. 

However, it’s a feeling that even after three years of marriage has yet to subdue. The riveting swell that throws his heart into turmoil whenever you giggle. The wash of goosebumps set to claim his skin when your hand simply grazes against his own. The trance your gentle coos lure him into, just like now.

“Kennnn, Baby? Are you okay?”

Flurries of mindless blinks brings Nanami back into the present, where he’s met with your own stare. Where silence settles comes the bustle of apologies and giggles, Nanami “Hm?—Oh! I’m fine, Honey. I’m so sorry—missed what you said there, can you repeat it?”

“Oh, it’s fine! I was asking what should we do about the dishes? All that cooking and I always seem to forget about cleaning.”

Nanami merely shrugs his shoulder, “I’ll wash them.”

“But aren’t you tired? We could just leave them to soak—”

The rambles of solutions come to a slamming shut as Nanami reaches over to your side of the square dining table, his fingers seamlessly knitting within your own.

“That was a really good steak. The garlic butter we made last weekend was a perfect touch. Oh, and the mashed potatoes, you always outdo yourself, Honey. All I did was peel the potatoes and help sear the steak, the least I can do is clean…right?”

A helpless sigh passes through your glossed lips, “You’re not getting me to agree, y’know. I still say we just go get ready for bed.”

Nanami calls his hand, his energy, even his presence over the table back to his side in trade for the back of his chair for asylum. He gives you a steady stare that pairs all too well with a grin and a pat on his lap. “Come here.”

There’s safety in being wrapped up in Nanami’s arms as you settle in his care, his muscle-ribbed arms thick arms lacing around your waist, his large hands draping off your hip, all while he keeps one leg bouncing to a steady rhythm. 

“Why do you worry your pretty little head off about the fine details, huh? That’s my job.” 

“I know, but…”

Weakness grows in your heart as you look down into his eyes—those tired eyes casted by an ardent glow. Exhaustion still can’t taint his heart, it can’t begin to ruin the tender nature he abides to you. You can’t help but soothe him, your hand racing to cup his cheek, the pad of your thumb skating along the curves of his bottom lip. 

“But you work so hard, Kento. You should come to bed with me, just leave all this for tomorrow.”

But you know him—he can’t leave any job with loose ends. Whether it’s at the office, small repairs around the house, or simply washing dishes, Nanami finds a sense of ease in the natural order of tasks from start to finish. And when some principle challenged his own, he had every reason set and ready to roll for an explanation.

Except for tonight.

Tonight, silence serves as Nanami’s winded explanation—and the kind pecks he pushes back against your touch. 

“Ken?”

“Mhm?”

“Aren’t you going to…say something…or anything?”

Patience gets the better of you as Nanami simply keeps himself entertained with your thumb. His kisses melt into you skin, his soft hums strike every fiber, and each pinch of his lips leaves you dangling at the end of your rope. Nanami stands from the chair, cradling you in his arms. His steps are guided by routine, up the stairs and through the first door to the right, straight into the bedroom.

Nanami drops you on the bed.

You can’t really pinpoint when the plush warmth of your bed welcomed you home, but with Nanami’s thick chest pinning you to the sheets, it’s a quick conclusion you push off rather quickly.

How could you focus on such fine details when he’s lathering the junctures of your collarbone in kisses, trailing back up to your awaiting lips. 

“Sweetheart.”

“Yes, Baby?” 

Nanami gives in to you with a kiss, his lips just barely sinking into yours before he’s hulling himself back onto his feet.

“Go get ready for bed and when you wake up, I’ll be right there next to you.”

Sleep is all Namai intended for you to have, he'd be damned if something so trivial as chores would prevent you from rest. And when Nanami did finish up with the last bowl, sleep fell heavy on his mind all the same.

It weighed heavy on his mind through a hot shower, through his nightly routine, even as he mindlessly slipped into a pair of briefs and beneath the bed sheets.

But…his tired eyes had to land on you—his precious angel.

Oh, his pretty wife who glows underneath the moon’s rays, laid on your side with the blanket tucked up to your chin. He’s eager to join you, sliding himself right beside your body—where nothing but a pair of panties hugs you. 

It certainly doesn’t help how you gravitate to Nanami, even while underneath sleep’s spell. Grinding the thick globes of your ass into his lap—and right where the head of his cock sits snug against the waistband of his briefs.

In a desperate search for a distraction, Nanami cranes his neck to greet the neon red digits bleeding through the face of his bedside clock—where the best joke known to man awaits him.

1:32 AM. 

Just an hour into the new day Nanami is met by pure mockery. Of course, his sweet wife all swept up in sleep makes for an even better punch line—-the growing bulge sinking between your ass. A quiet mind is all he wants, why he’s drowning his mind in those meditative mantras you’ve taught him when work becomes too much all at once.

But it’s a fleeting dream the moment those throbs ripple through the thick veins stretching over his cock. 

“Sweetheart, c’mon…give me a chance at least,” he’s muttering for his ears alone. 

Yet the only chance Nanami knows he has is to follow in your steed and sleep away his impending thoughts. He gently lifts the blanklet up to his shoulder, only for the chilling gush to fan across your body.

“Mmm, ‘m cold, Ken.”

“I know, I know, I’m gonna fix that right away, Sweetheart.”

Sunken beneath the heavy blanket, Nanami carves out every inch of your spine with his chest, slotting himself flush against you. His arms surge to envelop you, giving way for his hand to greedily cup the silky fat of your breast.

For a moment he’s sworn he’s beaten lust curse because well, cradling his sleeping beauty like this, allowing for his body, his warmth to sew his body to your own. 

“How’s that? Feels warmer now, Sweetheart?” His voice gently coos in your ear. 

He doesn’t expect much, a sheepish nod and a mumble thrillingly satisfies Nanami. He can’t explain it, but as he steals a glance over you, he finds his wretched mind delighted by mundane beauty.

A painting is known to capture a moment in time through the perspective of the artist—but what Nanami’s eye beholds before him is too good for any picture, any painting, for every medium of art would fail to capture the radiant glow the moon kisses upon your skin. It would fail to mimic the soft curl of your lips, free from control and lifted behind the pure rapture of your mind. It certainly couldn’t transcribe the very details consumed by Nanami. 

Maybe it’s due to the curse of the night overwhelming Nanami, but he simply can’t be alone right now, not while love has him spiraling down a self-induced hole. He can’t stop himself from taking to your shoulder, granting his lips the tactful satisfaction of littering kisses upon your skin.  

“Honey…are you really asleep?” He pouts, yet he immediately reflects on himself as he swipes yet another look at the clock. “

It’s what…1:40 now, I should be asleep too, however…” 

Breaking his trail of kisses, Nanami softly sighs as he gathers all his wayward thoughts, all for this moment only he’ll hold a record of.

“I can only say this while you sleep. It’s pathetic of me, but I haven’t gotten the confidence to face you as I should. I’m not one for many words, nor do I show all the emotion I hold inside of me. But, I hope that my love for you bleeds through every touch, every stare, every kiss, and every breath. I breathe for you. I live for you. And should it come to pass, I’d kill for you. I’ve never felt more endeared to anyone before but you…You give me all the strength I need to be a better man. I just hope to-"

“...Ken, Honey? Are you on a phone call?”

“Oh um…” His blood’s running cold through every vein in his body. Suddenly, he’s stricken dumb and frozen underneath the weight of speculation. But he is who he is—a calm man with logic on his sleeve. Pushing out a huff through his nose, Nanami finds himself at ease as he peers down at your hazy eyes.

“N-No, no…just…thinking aloud. Go back to sleep, okay?”

You muse him with a passing look over your shoulder. “Thinking aloud, hm? Tell me.”

Before Nanami can conjure up some excuse as his alibi, you’ve already to bury yourself within his chest. Your soft hands buff his nerves down to naught through lazy swipes across his taut pecs. In your care, his heart’s raging scream dwindles down to a tepid thump, his lungs spoiled with fulfilling breaths, and his mind’s calmer than the vast Pacific Ocean—all thanks to you. 

“You…really want to know?” 

“Yup,” your eyes flutter open to hang upon Nanami’s heavy lids. “Tell me anything and everything.”

Giving in, Nanami’s head falls into a gentle tilt, “Do you know how beautiful are you?”

“I’d like to think so.”

“You say it like that, but I don’t know if you really do…”

“You think so highly of me.”

“I have to, you’re the woman I’ve devoted my life to.”

“Do you regret it?”

“Regret?” Nanami has to echo. It’s just one of the words that have escaped his vocabulary in recent years. And a regret in your presence is something he knows he’ll never, ever know again. “Never. And even if I did, I’d do it all again just to be with you.”

Gently you bite into your bottom lip “Do you remember our wedding night?”

“Of course I do. I mean it was such a—-”

“I think tonight’s going to be a repeat of that. Or better.”

As your words break through the air, you’re given the honor of watching Nanami crumble underneath the heat of your advances. Blush breaks across his cheeks, his pupils blown wide by lust’s bite, and right beneath your hand his heart’s back to roaring its spirted song.

“Real—ahem—Really? And why’s that?”

“Welllll…” The soft drag of your coo lures Nanami into hypnosis. “I just think it is, Baby. How’s that sound to you?”

“Go—Good. I can’t ever say—” 

Nanami lets your lips swallow down the last of his words in your kiss. He lets you take his last breath, his last thoughts, and all the sanity he thought he relied upon. In trade of that, he’s given the chance to relinquish all control just to drink in your soft whimpers, to sate his whims with your kiss, to scour your soft skin with his rough hands. 

Reality sets in hard and heavy for Nanami. To think, just moments ago he was too absorbed in admiring you—his wife, his lady, his precious angel tucked beside him like any other night.

His precious angel who wears sleep with a plump pout and soft snores.

His precious angel clutching at the thick pillow beneath your head.

His precious angel who has sin creeping along your curves and slipping beneath a pair of lacy red panties.

“Mmm…Ken…” your voice quietly breaks against his puffy lips. Your hips flirt with Nanami’s feathering touch, winding along to his shy caress. “Hmph…right…right there…”

“Yeah?” He allows for a lone digit to greet your dormant clit, the warmth of his touch gently thumbing circles into your bundle of nerves. “It’s riiiight here, isn’t it pretty girl?”

He plays coy, letting honey drip from his lips and into your ear. “Tell me so I can make everything better, Sweetheart.”

“Fuck, Ken please—Harder, baby, Harder!”

Dumbfounded. A dumbfounded gawk is all Nanami can muster towards you—until the ends of his mouth curl up into a grin he buries along the pulse of your throat.

“Harder?” He mocks with a hiked brow. “I don’t think you can take that, Honey. No…but…since you asked so nicely…”

SLAP!

The loud clash of Nanami's palm against your splayed cunt rings in silence over the room, serving as the perfect beat for your body to comprehend the brash course your husband's veered the night into.

“Oh–Fuck!” Tossing your head back between your shoulders, you mewl as the heavy chimes around the room. “T-that’s too much, Ken!”

Nanami hides his chuckle behind a kiss he presses to your temple. “I Promise that’s the last time tonight.” His sights slip down between your legs, watching as his fingers work to soothe your poor clit from his torture. 

He feathers down to your slit, the tight pink ring suckling to Nanami’s familiar touch. His intentions you know are pure, even amidst such lust staining the air. He’s so gentle with you, having his digits complement the perky bud of your clit with sluggish strokes, teasing your hole with the sticky circles he draws. 

All for his digits to fall victim to your pussy.

“Oh, such a greedy baby,” Nanami gasps. He’s forced to ignore the heavy stains of precum ruining his briefs, but he simply can’t let you have your way. It’s enough that he’s curling those slender fingers within your heat, strumming along the gummy walls he’s planning on staining white.  “You can’t take me just playing with you, you need so much more.”

A slight curl to your lips spites him. “I guess you know me well, Honey. Your fault for spoiling me.”

“And? You know I don’t regret a moment of it.”

He’s so sweet with you, peppering kisses along your cheeks, filling your mind with saccharine hymns. Yet he’s incessant with his reach, sending his digits to know every inch of your pussy with each strike he drills into your sweet spot.

It's just like Nanami, once he’s found a goal, he’ll work and work until the logic runs dry in his mind. He’ll work a hellish job for the trade of money, he’ll risk his life for the trade of saving others, and he’ll work his hand to the raw nerve to turn your pussy into a sputtering mess. 

“Good girl, you’re making me so proud, Baby,�� Nanami coos, his eyes glued between your twitching legs. “Oh, I wish you could see what I do.”

“A-and w..wha-at’s that?” 

Your stumbling words earn an esteemed chuckle from Nanami. “Well…I could always just describe it to you…But there’s something I need to do first...”

It isn’t like him to keep you puzzled, especially with words nonetheless. But Nanami’s a man of action, letting his body move to support his cause. His cause for tonight, however, called for his body to slip away from your warmth all for him to be planked between your thighs and his hands kneading at your plushy skin. 

“That’s even better. Now, where do I even begin…”

His thumb comes to peck at your bud, lazily scrolling at the perky pearl in swipes. “I’ve been thinking about it all day, counting the minutes until I’m back at your side…back between your legs…back to having this pussy drip bliss back into my poor soul.”

It isn’t enough to have you laid out on a silver platter where his tongue can lather at your honey for hours—Nanami needs you to know just how deep his depravity lies. He slowly drags his tongue to wet his plump lips, soothing the ravenous urge that boils to the forefront of his mind with dumb babbles. 

“Just so…pretty…and pink. So sweet, so soft. Honey, I can’t go a day without you, you’re my lifeline, every beat of my heart. I just…”

His touch gets the better of his coherency. He knows better than to find focus elsewhere when speaking, but in truth, Nanami did not—he should not have caught your slicked hole fluttering at the sound of his soliloquy. 

“Oh…Fuck me…”

He wants to be kind, he wants to be sweet, and Nanami wants to embody the very traits he’s fallen in love with.

But he can’t.

Nanami can’t play the nice guy when he greedily welcomes your pussy back into his salacious mouth with a gracious sigh, his jaw hungrily working to force that poor button into a pudgy bloat.

Cunnilingus. It’s an art he’s swiftly mastered after three years of marriage, learning every inch of your body like your own. He knows where exactly his tongue should flit, where his finger curls the best, and even how long it should take for your body to shatter at his hands.

But it’s an effortless art when mastered behind love, and it steals Nanami’s breath away every time he catches his breath. 

“Fuck,” his curse breaks through the air. His hands knead at the silky plush hidden underneath your thigh, leaving every curve of his fingerprint to sear into you—-to mark you as his own. He’s eager to catch your eyes, those adorable eyes that well up with the fattest tears whenever he pedals his tongue right against your clit.   

As the age-old game of cat and mouse welcomes itself onto the stage known as the bed, you unassumingly take up your role the second you jerk away from Nanami’s silent plea.

What he wants from you—time, affection, or maybe even an orgasm, every idea falls to the back burner the moment your hips mindlessly buck into his mouth. You could have sold him the story of it being an accident, but why ruin his fun where he’s so hellbent on this one night that your body’s finally taking offense?

Though, when the rare glow dots the eyes he shoots up at you, you swear you can see hearts in the distance of his blown pupils. 

“Oh, look at that,” Nanami almost humors himself as he takes another glance at your cunt.

A precarious man such as he can’t afford to miss any details. His eyes cling to the unfolding sight, how his thick digits bathe in your essence, carefully sketching his own path about your folds so rich with nerves. He’s shamelessly gawking at how the succulent hues of rose bodes well with his fair skin, each pass he bestows upon your cunt pulls him into a self-induced trance.

“Making such a mess just from me talking. What a dirty mind you’ve got, isn’t that right, Honey?” 

Right on the tip of your tongue, the words baste behind the sweetest rapport. You could let him have him, fill his ears with talk of how lechery paints his face like a mask. He is your husband, yet the side he’s letting out to roam tonight leaves your fuzzy mind combing with an answer—and fast. 

“W-Where is this co-comming f-from, Baby?” 

That’s what you say, but the moans slipping from your traitorous mouth when Nanami plants one last kiss to your folds tells him all that needs to be known.  

“What?” He chuckles to himself. The pads of his digits wade through the glassy web sewn between your delicate folds, “Can’t handle me talking about your pussy, Sweetheart? I’m sorry but you'll have to take it. And, speaking of taking it…you know what else I love about you?”

“What’s that?” Your voice trails out behind a whimper.

Just to catch your eye, Nanami allows for the single tug of his briefs to free him from hell reincarnated. With the gray waistband sitting underneath the heavy bloat of his balls, his hand hungrily grips the base of his cock. A hellish squeeze around his rippling veins has your eyes nearly crossing at the pearly tears spilling from his tip. 

With the thread of sanity left in your mind, your hands race to ball the blanket within your fists, for some kind of grounding. “Fuck! Please! Please, tell me, I can’t wait anymore, Baby!”

“Let me show you then,” Nanami hums as he cup at the back of your knees. “I love when I fold you in half…juuuust like this…”

His words speak for him, Nanami’s sheer strength working pin your poor, tired body into one of his favorite positions—a mating press.

“I can see just how hard you try to take every inch of me. Making your poor pussy stretch around my cock, you must really love me, don’t you Honey?”

It’s sinfully natural the way the fat blushing crown of Nanami’s cock sits upon your clit, a detail he’s made himself keen to. His thick bulb sobbing those white tears all because of badly he needed to have you. To have his fingers work at your gushing cunny is one thing, his cock on the other hand?

He’s on course to face ruin tonight.

He’s already planning the next position, the hour, the next day, all dedicated to keeping his fat length choked within your walls for as long as he could.

Why with such knowledge, it’s no wonder his hips fall into a languid toll, leaving the thick head to trace every curve of your cunt. He’s driving up against every nerve just to watch your face quiver, to see those tears he loves so much all from a little teasing. 

His head dips along the marked tract of your neck, a cowardly move to hide his own flush face. His hands clip to your waist, baring your body between the smothering warmth of his thick chest and bed—without an inch to spare. 

His muffled voice hums against your neck, “T-That feels good right?” 

“Fuh–it’s s’ good Ken. ‘m so close, Baby please!” 

“It’s too soon to cum, Sweetheart—you know that.” Nanami faces betrayal from his warning, his hips snapping against your own. “Just take it nice ‘nd eas–shit! Oh Honey, you feel so…so…fuck, that’s so good!”

“Kennnn! Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” You hysterically sob in his ear. It’s all for good reason as those ominous white stars begin to freckle your vision. The knot hasn’t even pulled taut shattered and yet you’re already a victim to its claim. The mind-altering high that rips you out of your body for nothing short of a few seconds.

“Hold it, you can’t yet, Sweetheart, not—”

Sending your grip to sink into the twitching muscle of his biceps, you whimpered out against Nanami’s wishes. “I can’t, Kento! It’s too much!” You knew all too well what was coming and as much as Nanami claims to know as well, he simply couldn’t have you reeling off something so mundane as humping. 

“Please Honey, hold it. Just a little—”

“Fuck! ‘m cumming!” 

The perilous yelp echoes around the room as the pure state of bliss paints itself white in your mind. All that pressure, the tensions, it all slips away from you through the harsh arch your spine fights beneath Nanami.

It’s futile to try and stop the inevitable, and the bliss that comes with surrender is all the more peaceful. When your body tingles with the aftershocks, your mind hazy from the stress and woes of the day, all of the negative can’t survive when a high like that comes crashing hard and heavy. 

Exhaustion houses itself in your body, accompanying weakness and the giddy smiles that you can’t hold back–until your body feels like a weight has been lifted off your chest.

“That…whew, that was so—Kento?”

Your spotty sights focus upon falling onto Nanami’s silhouette, his towering form resting back on his haunches. His hand’s fallen between your bodies, a loose fist drumming against your skin. He’s pummeling his cock beneath harsh strokes, forcing abstract thick ropes of white to dance along your puffy lips. 

“Ken, Baby?” You call out cautiously as his body collapses over yours. “It’s okay,”  we can call it an early night–”

“I can’t leave you unsatisfied, it was pathetic of me to let go right now,” He huffs,  We’ve got our routine—gonna fill this pretty pussy so fucking full just so I can clean you up. And I have to tell you something.”

Your eyes soften over Nanami, desperately watching as the man seeks redemption. He isn’t one to be a sore loser, but when it comes to you—he’ll work until he breaks just to know that he was behind your euphoria. 

All resolutions point to you supplying his motive with undying support, especially when your digits reach to strum at the sparse blond hairs along the nape of his neck. “Go ahead, tell me Ken.”

A wicked grin stretches onto Nanami’s features, only to hide behind a kiss within the valley of your breasts.

“Oh, I love you so much, Baby. Can’t wait to give all my love to the prettiest girl!”

[fractualized]

A while ago I got under someone's skin for referencing Joker's surprising delayed reaction to killing Jason Todd, and since then I've been thinking it's worth digging into as an interesting element of Joker's characterization.

Of course, first thing's first: Jason's murder in Batman (1940) #427, as originally presented in 1988.

Jason has just reconnected with his biological mother, Sheila Haywood, at a famine relief camp in Ethiopia— and he's discovered that Joker is blackmailing her with information about her criminal past. She gets him truckloads of medical supplies to sell on the black market, and Joker restocks the trucks with toxin. While Bruce races to stop a tampered truck, Jason decides to help his mother on his own. When he discloses he's Robin, however, Sheila betrays him to Joker, not only to stay on Joker's good side but because she's actually been embezzling money from the organization she works for this whole time. She's afraid an investigation prompted by Batman and Robin's appearance would expose this fact.

So Sheila stands by as Jason is felled by Joker and his goons, and then the crowbarring starts.

It's bad! When we return later, Jason is presumably dead.

While Joker isn't shocked that he's murdered a child, he does have an unexpected reaction to Sheila's point. He hadn't really been thinking about what he was doing, implying that he hadn't intended to kill Jason. He just got carried away, whoopsie! He didn't do this to get at Batman; he wasn't thinking about Batman at all. Now, however, he's concerned about how Batman will react.

Joker thinks Jason is already dead. The purpose of the bomb is to get rid of the evidence of his involvement, including Sheila. Joker is not broken up about what he did, but he does have a sense that he's gone a step too far and he doesn't want Batman to know about it. At least for now!

In the end, while Jason wakes and he and his mother try to save each other, they're trapped in the warehouse when the bomb goes off. Bruce makes it back only in time to find a dying Sheila, who tells him it was Joker. When Bruce finds Jason, Jason gets no last words. He's already dead, and Bruce is devastated.

A clue from Joker leads Bruce to the United Nations in New York, and there, infamously, Bruce learns that Joker has been made the ambassador from Iran. Joker is now protected from prosecution, and Batman going after him risks an international incident. Bruce still very much wants to, but Superman stops him.

Well, mostly Superman. I recommend reading Batman #429 to see Bruce's full thought process on this. He is furious and constantly thinking about finally ending Joker— but he also questions his mental state. He still wonders if he can hold Joker responsible if he believes Joker is insane. He uses phrases like "what happened to Jason" like it was a natural disaster, not murder. He even confronts Joker to give him one last chance to turn himself in to Arkham Asylum. Bruce is in a kind of denial, still grabbing at how things usually go.

But back to Joker. Evidently, he's no longer worried that Batman will find out he killed Robin. Joker admits to it immediately.

I assume Joker realized there was no point in denying it. Is Batman going to think it's a coincidence that Robin got blown up when Joker was around? Though Bruce does say it's Joker's taunts that 100% confirm for him that the clown was responsible, pointing again to Bruce still grasping for reasons to not break his rule in his grief.

By the end of the issue, Joker has naturally tried to kill the entire United Nations assembly, which instantly made him free game. So Bruce pursues him to a helicopter, and an in-air scuffle ensues in which Bruce explicitly prevents Joker from being killed by friendly fire, evidently so he can decide how Joker will die. Bruce jumps out of the helicopter, abandoning Joker to a fiery crash. However, despite Bruce's (supposed) intentions, Joker's body is nowhere to be found. The clown lives!

So that's it, right? Joker felt some unease about killing Jason initially, but in a short time, he was happy to gloat about it to Batman's face.

But when Joker reappears in Batman #450, in 1990, he is not triumphant. He's holed up in a dilapidated building, where he learns someone is impersonating him.

How often do we see Joker upset by murders? When the story returns to him, we learn more about his mental state.

With all of Joker's cackling glee at the things he's done, coming close to actual death in the helicopter crash has jarred him— and not just the crash, but the murder that led to it. He recoils from the memory of what he did to Jason. It's why he can't see the joke anymore. It's set apart from his previous crimes. It's too far.

Which is not at all to say that Joker is completely broken up about Jason. By the end of #450, he rallies and sets out to go after his copycat and restore his reputation to his liking.

In Batman #451, though, Joker is still plagued by doubts along the way.

Even when he overcomes those doubts, claiming the mantle as the one and only Joker when his copycat dies by falling into acid, Joker challenges Gordon to finally kill him. It's reminiscent of The Killing Joke, the first time Joker went too far. But like TKJ, Gordon and Batman decide to get Joker back to Arkham against their more vengeful instincts.

Joker's also decided Arkham is just what he needs. Outside, he's plagued by the reality of what he's done; in Arkham, he can settle back into his insanity and stop caring about it again.

So after that, Joker has no second thoughts about killing Jason, right? After all, he largely references the murder in callous terms. In-universe this makes sense as Joker revising history in his own head, particularly as more stories portray his effort to be more monster than man. Monsters don't have qualms about murder! But this is comics, so we can also presume that not all Joker writers know or remember #450/451, which I think is a shame. I find stories in which Joker expresses even just a degree of vulnerability to be more interesting than those where he's just mwahaha evil.

I have seen a few other bat stories bring some nuance into Joker's perception of Jason's death, though.

First up is the particularly nuanced "Fool's Errand" in Detective Comics (1937) #726, published in 1998. Bruce visits Joker in Arkham to get information on how to find a kidnapped girl who's running out of time. It just so happens Joker arranged this kidnapping for a particular day.

I strongly recommend this issue for batjokes fans, as it revolves around Joker talking the case through with Batman in his cell to help him figure out more clues to a crime Joker himself planned. Even with Bruce beating Joker up, the conversational tone feels almost friendly. They're just doing their usual thing.

Well, sort of. Bruce has already said he's not in the mood, and he interrupts their conversation to say so again.

Joker could insist that Batman stay and keep playing the game, and needle him for being unwilling to merely talk to Joker to rescue this child. Instead, Joker gives up her location.

And Bruce does come back as predicted.

So that was Joker's nefarious plan. He wanted to restore some hope to Bruce's cynical soul to be sure that his future failures would hurt even more. But it sure seems the middle didn't go the way Joker expected, when he recognized Batman just wasn't going to play the game as usual.

Joker doesn't jump into taunting. He doesn't answer Bruce at first. He's withdrawn and reflective. He's got something else on his mind on this anniversary of the second Robin's death, and he knows that Bruce does, too. Perhaps not forcing Batman to play was a small gesture, acknowledging the difficulty of the day, remembering how things changed. And what does that gesture cost Joker when he still gets the outcome he wants?

Second example is actually also called "Fool's Errand," this one from Robin (1993) #85, published in 2001. This is a fun one in which Joker discusses his interactions and frustrations with the Robins.

But while Joker indicates more than once that he wants to fight Batsy alone, after he talks about killing Jason, this is the next page:

Joker does not then say he was relieved when another Robin showed up, but still. He's acknowledged again that when he murdered Jason, things were not right. As angry as the birdies make him, they're a key component in the game.

Then we come back to "Once More, With Feeling!" in Harley Quinn (2000) #25, from 2002. Harley's been playing double-agent against Batman with Joker, and she and Joker have this exchange.

Joker typically makes light of murdering Robin, but it seems that when he's with just about his only confidante, he lets other feelings about it burst out.

There's also a flashback to DitF in Batman: Gotham Knights #44 in 2003. We get an exchange between Bruce and Joker before Bruce jumps out of the helicopter.

Joker laughs as the helicopter dives, ready to die, but before that, he seems resigned. He doesn't throw in a real dig about murdering Jason, and he doesn't gloat that he's finally gotten Batman to kill him. He acknowledges he crossed a line.

Lastly, there's a 2006 exchange between, well, Joker and Jason himself in "All They Do is Watch Us Kill, Part 2" as part of Under the Red Hood in Batman (1940) #649. Jason has kidnapped Joker as batbait, and when Joker needles him, Jason needles him back.

Joker regularly extolls his own crimes, but suddenly one of his victims mockingly accuses him of putting up a front, of not being as coldhearted and untouchable as he wants to seem. Maybe Joker does doubt what he's doing and retreats under the cover of madness so he doesn't have to think about it— just as he did in Batman #451.

I'm not sure if there are other examples of Joker expressing anything but mocking glee about Jason's death. I do know of times he's shown a sort of fondness for Jason (such as in The Man Who Stopped Laughing #4, Gotham War: Red Hood #2, Suicide Squad: Get Joker #3), but that's not really the same thing. Joker could've seen Red Hood as his and Batman's Frankenstein child without feeling any squeamishness about killing him in the first place.

But if anyone knows of any other moments where Joker does not act like killing Jason is absolutely his most favorite thing he ever did, do share!

[thealtoduck]

Eye for an Eye

Tim Drake x Riddler Sidekick!Male Reader

Batfamily x Riddler Sidekick!Male Reader (kinda..)

Warnings: Superhero stuff

Riddler Sidekick!Male Reader: Masterlist

Summary: You get another visit in Arkham…

——

The door to your cell was thrown open revealing one of the Arkham guards. You threw an annoyed glance towards him. ”What?” you questioned. ”You have another visitor” the guard said making you confused. ”It’s past visiting hours” you stated but the guard came up towards you and cuffed your hands anyway.

He then led you out of your room and through the hallways of Arkham but he didn’t lead you to the visiting rooms, he led you out of the inmate section and towards the staff section of the Asylum.

You however didn’t question it as you were curious to see where he would lead you. Then he stopped you outside the warden’s office belonging too ”Jeremiah Arkham”. The guard knocked and there came a muted ”Come in” from the inside.

The warden was sitting at his desk but he wasn’t alone, Batman and the Red Hood were also waiting for your arrival. Where was Tim? Had they not managed to save him. ”Welcome Clue, have a seat?” the Warden Arkham said. You did as told. ”You’ve already met our guests, Batman and the Red Hood” the Warden stated.

”I brought you here because they are in need of help as Riddler seems to have taken a hostage” he explained. ”I already helped them they were here this morning” you said. Batman then spoke up ”The Riddler wasn’t where you thought he’d be we need you to help us track him down”.

”I can’t do that from here” you stated. ”We know, we’re bringing you with us” Batman explained. You turned to the Warden and asked curiously ”Really? You agreed to it?”. ”Of course, we need to do whatever we can to rescue that poor hostage” the Warden said.

”And… what do i get for my help?” you questioned. ”Clue, i will personally look to have your sentence shortened” the Warden offered. You nodded and said ”Alright, i’m in” with a satisfied smirk.

——

You, Batman and the Red Hood made your way out of the Asylum. Your hands were still cuffed to make sure you wouldn’t try anything. The two vigilantes led you to the Batmobile. They opened the door to the back seat for you.

You sat down in it and looked around the inside of the infamous Batmobile. As the other two entered you found yourself saying ”This isn’t as cool as i thought it’d be”. ”What were you expecting?” Red Hood questioned already annoyed by your presence.

”I don’t know, just something more exciting…” you told them, they didn’t respond. The three of you sat in silence as Batman started driving, leaving Arkham behind. ”So what’s the plan? Where do we start?”.

Bruce let out a sigh and said ”We did manage to find Riddler or at least a message from him, he demanded you in exhange for Tim or else he’d kill him”. ”So you- YOU lied to the warden, you didn’t need my help, you needed me for a trade” you realised.

Their silence told you that you were right. ”Damn Bats, freeing a criminal, what would the comissioner say?” you teased. The Batmobile eventually stopped outside a telephone booth. Batman and Red Hood got out, Red Hood opened the door for you and you got out.

”What are we doing here? Eddie dosen’t have a lair here” you questioned. ”We know, you’re giving him a call” Batman said pointing at the phone booth. ”He wanted to make sure we actually got you out before he revealed the location” Batman explained and handed you 50 cents and a note with a phone number written down on it.

You entered the phone booth, Red Hood squeezed himself in behind you, creating an uncomfortable closeness. You gave him a wondering look and he said ”Just so you and Riddler won’t plan anything”. You rolled your eyes and stated ”You’re lucky i won’t punch you, i didn’t even let him Tim stand this close to me and we were dating”.

You fed the 50 cents in to the payphone and tapped the number on the buttons, you held the headset to your ear as it dialed. Soon enough someone picked up. ”Batman! Is that you?” Eddie questioned. ”Wrong” you told him. ”Clue!” he exclaimed excitedly.

”I take it Batman got my message, tell him this riddle for to find my location ”I stand tall in the water surrounded by boats of all sizes, what am i?” Eddie said giddily, you rolled your eyes at the Riddle and said ”Come on Eddie, that’s the best one you can come up with, see you at the docks”.

”No you little- Batman was supposed to figure it out, don’t make me regret-” Eddie tantrumed as you hung up the phone. You and Red Hood exited the phonebooth, you turned to Batman and said ”He’s at the docks”.

The three of you got in to the Batmobile and Batman started speeding towards the docks.

——

You found Tim and Riddler waiting for the three of you at the docks. Tim’s body was battered as he was tied to a chair, a bomb strapped to the chair as well. Eddie stood a couple of feet away at the edge of the dock holding the detonator to the bomb, behind him in the water was a speedboat captained by Query and Echo, waiting for the two of you to be able to make a quick getaway.

”Welcome” Eddie said loudly. ”Thank you, Batman and Red Hood for reuniting me with my dear Clue” he tanked them mockingly. ”So here’s how this is gonna play out, Clue is gonna come over to me, we’ll boat away and leave you to rescue Robin, okay?” Eddie demanded madly.

Batman answered with a ”Alright”. Red Hood gave you a little push and you walked forward. You came closer towards the middle where Tim was sat, seeing him like this hurt. You knew you were meant to walk past him and join the Riddler in freedom but you still cared about Tim no matter everything that had happened between you.

You stopped in front of him and got down on your knees, Tim looked at you with a small smile. ”Uhm, what’s happening?! Clue, what are you doing?!” Eddie questioned confused but you ignored him. ”Are you okay?” you asked Tim brushing some hair out of his slightly bruised and dirtied face.

”I’ve been better” he answered humorously. ”Y/n, i’m sorry, i should’ve listened to you when i found Riddler’s plans instead of accusing you” Tim apologised. You cupped his cheeks and placed a kiss on his lips.

”It’s in the past” you uttered to him and remembered something. ”Hey, you know we never got to see that movie after the night at the motel, maybe we could see that together?” you suggested making Tim chuckle and say ”It’s a date”.

You gave Tim another kiss and stood up. ”Gotta go, my boat is waiting, don’t blow up while i’m gone” you said and walked to the Riddler. ”You’ve got some explaining to do” Eddie stated suspiciously from what he had just witnessed.

”Shut up Eddie” you muttered. ”Oh, that’s nice, i rescue you from Arkham and all i get is attitude, not even a thanks!” he ranted as the two of you climbed on board the boat and sat down behind Query and Echo. The boat then sped off, you spared Tim, Batman and Red Hood a glance as they faded in to the distance.

[morverenmaybewrites]

The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City Update

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Newest chapter

AO3 Link

Summary:

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

Chapter Preview:

You paused on the bridge that hung high above the Burrow, and for the first time in your life, you felt a terror was so great that it made your throat close.

Gotham City had never looked so beautiful. From such a height, the burning neon lights looked like stars. 

But above your head, the sky looked pitch black. It made you think of the bodies that would sometimes wash up on Gotham Bay’s shores, black and bloated with rot. It made you think of  the shadows of inmates in the asylum, their voices like the skittering of insects, rising and falling as you passed them by.

It made you think of the night Timothy Young died, and you wondered that if, back then, there had been light enough that he saw the shadow of a monster fall over him. 

You wondered if he had time to understand what was happening, before he started against the concrete below. And then decided decided that it didn’t matter: you would understand If Francine Langstrom came for you, you would know. 

You would understand what was happening to you before you hit the ground. 

Your skull splitting open, the pink-grey ropes of your brain scattering on the concrete. And the thousand pictures that follow. Your death turned into a spectacle and a profit.

Just like Tim Young’s.

The thought made you freeze. You were standing in front of one of the many wooden bridges that connected the rooftops of abandoned buildings. The Burrow’s infamous floating night market. Set up by dusk and torn down by dawn, only to rise up again the next night, the floating night market was one of the Burrow’s main attractions. A bustling collection of kiosks made out of cheap plywood and tarpaulin, it was said that you could find anything there, so long as you didn’t ask too many questions: cheap phones, likely stolen from someone off the street, fake licenses, a sample of Bane’s Venom for impatient bodybuilders. It was set high up in the air, amidst the rooftops of many abandoned buildings, connected by a series of rickety wooden bridges.

But now the rooftops were empty. The bridges were falling apart, its wooden planks dangling precariously from their ropes. The empty kiosks had been left to rot in the constant rain. You could even see some of the abandoned merchandise, left behind  in people’s haste to pack up: an old, broken phone, children’s toys hanging forlornly on strings, obviously meant to be prizes in a game, now swelling with rainwater. Mold grew on their cotton bodies like new fur. 

Timothy Young’s death had transformed the Burrows’ floating night market into a ghost town. The thought made you feel a little lonely, picking through the bones of a dead market, looking to find a monster. 

Francine, The voice in your head sounded like Professor Langstrom’s. Her name is Francine Langstrom. 

The buzz of static cut through your thoughts as cleanly as a falling blade. And then Jason’s voice was in your ear.

“Last chance to back out of this.” 

His voice was rough, even taking into account the poor connection and the voice modulators he used. Maybe he was scared, too. The thought eased you somewhat, to know that you were not alone. 

Even through the poor connection, you could hear the strain in his voice. You cast a glance at the direction where he was supposed to be, tried to look for even a hint of him: the faint glow of his helmet, the hulking figure of his silhouette. But you found no sign of him. Still, knowing that he was there made you feel better. 

You raised a hand and hoped that he would not see the way your fingers trembled.  

And waved. 

Read more on AO3

[caffeinatedvigilantewriter]

So team phantom is in collage, working, or just anywhere away from Amity Park. Most likely in their early twenties.

Dani, (18) stopped by Amity for whatever reason, get caught by rouge GIW agents, shit happens and she gets deaged to her true age (she was 12 when created, so she would be deaged to around 6) she has some of her memories, but not all.

Vlad saves her and hides her in his mansion for around two years. Team phantom visits now and then, making sure she’s okay and such.

Dani is a 6 year old, who just suffered from a horribly traumatic experience, with most of her memories gone. she is not thinking right, coupled with her distrust of Vald and most adults, She basically believes Vlad is holding her captive. So she escapes after 2 years.

So basically there is a feral 8 yo on the streets, attacking any adults wearing white or looking rich.

One thing leads to another, and an 8 yo girl is being put in Arkham Asylum.

Any other asylums can’t hold the ‘meta’ girl and she keeps attacking the staff, so Arkham is the best place for her.

Surprisingly, she is rather polite, if not a bit distasteful to the staff, as long as they don’t wear white they are safe.

She is kept separate from the dangerous inmates for a while, before word gets around and the other inmates want to meet the meta girl.

They adore Dani.

So when the next breakout comes, they try to convince the girl to come with them. She refuses. She has enough memories to realize that she is dangerous and it is safer for everyone if she stays in Arkham.

This makes everyone believe that she is being held captive in Arkham. Because dispite what the staff says, she has never shown any hostility to anybody, there’s no way she could have attacked and gravely injured dozens of people, right? This must be a kidnapping plot.

They go to Redhood, the infamous protecter for children for help.

Meanwhile, team phantom, (Jazz,24 Danny, Sam, Tucker, 22) are all scrambling to find Dani before the GIW does.

Idk if anyone will enjoy this but her you go anyway.

I actually quite like the concept :))

[raynewolferune]

Meta Jazz, the Arkham Intern Therapist Pt 2.1

Note: The writing bug bit me while wading through the comments and replies so you guys get more! 😁 Special thanks to @the-scarecrow-of-aus & @starlightcat04 for helping spark this continuation!

Also, so you're not confused, this part is from Kon's POV and backtracks to before the Bane incident to explain how Kon started going undercover in Arkham. Pt 2.2 has the Bane incident from Kon's POV.

~*~*~

When Kon got the call from Tim asking if he'd be willing to do a favor for him, he hadn't expected it to be an undercover assignment in the infamous Arkham Asylum itself.

"You want me to do what?" He asked staring at Tim in disbelief once he reached the Nest to debrief.

"Go undercover as a new guard in Arkham." Tim repeated with a deadpan expression looking over his shoulder at Kon from his computer chair. Holy fuck, his eyebags were bad. 

"Have you slept in the past week, Tim?" Kon asked, taking in his best friend's appearance.

Tim frowned at the question. 

"I don't see how that's relevant but yes." He answered, heartbeat unchanging. Which didn't really mean anything since it was Tim but Kon decided he'd believe him. 

For now. 

Kon sighed heavily and pinched the bridge of his nose.

"Okay, I'll do it." He said. "Can you tell me why we need someone undercover at least?" 

Tim eyes widened, startled by the question like he was surprised Kon didn't know yet even though Tim hadn't told him yet. Okay, deep breaths, calm down, Tim clearly hasn't slept in at least two days. Kon coached himself as his temper flared up at the evidence that Tim wasn't taking care of himself again. All the Supers agreed: sometimes you just wish you could beat some sense into the Bats and make them take care of themselves like normal human beings.

"Ah. Right." Tim said, turning back to the computer and pulling up some files as he explained. "Two thing have occured within roughly fifteen days of each other that together are rather suspicious. First, Dr. Thomas Rylie, Jonathan Crane's undergraduate roommate and classmate throughout undergrad and grad school, was hired to work as one of the new in house psychiatrists at Arkham Asylum. They also got their doctorates from the same school during the same time frame and both focused on the impact fear has on the brain. Dr. Rylie's focus was on fear conditioning and Dr. Crane's focus was on fear responses." Well, that sounds suspicious. 

"Second, Gotham University lost their minds and began an undergraduate and graduate internship program partnering with Arkham Asylum." 

Kon went cold. They did what?

Pictures of the Asylum, University, and three people -presumably Scarecrow, Dr. Rylie, and a young woman- filled the computer screen now. 

"The internship program has only one applicant so far and she'd already started working at the Arkham. Her name is Jasmine Fenton and her background is...sparse, to say the least." Tim turned in his chair to face Kon.

"I'm too recognizable in Gotham and among the rogues to successfully go undercover in Arkham so I've set you up with an apartment and ID as 'Kyle Jennings.' You're scheduled to start work at Arkham as a new guard tomorrow morning."

"Okay," Kon said with a nod. "What do you need confirmed? What are the primary objectives?" He prodded Tim again since his friend's sleep deprived brain seemed to think that was enough information for debriefing. It wasn't. Definitely not. A lot was implied but it wouldn't be the first time Tim had completely different intentions than what Kon had understood from his briefing. Sleep deprived Tim frequently assumed others could read his mind or something. Sleep deprived Tim was wrong.

"We need to determine if Dr. Rylie is here working for Scarecrow as part of some new scheme. We need to determine if Jasmine Fenton is complicit. We need to know if Gotham U is also in on it. And we need to find out what exactly Scarecrow is the planning." Tim stated automatically as he ticked each one off on his fingers.

"Got it. Guess I'll head over to my new apartment then and start prepping for tomorrow." Kon said, heading towards the exit. Tim hummed in agreement waving a hand in his direction as he left. That dumbass was probably already absorbed in the next case. Kon sighed, hopefully Tim would at least pass out sometime later tonight.

~*~*~

Kon's first day at Arkham wasn't anything special. He didn't see Jasmine, Dr. Rylie, or Scarecrow. He didn't see any rogues or doctors at all. It was just a really Gotham kind of orientation. 

"This is where we keep a cache of stun grenades, long-range scope rifles, tranquilizer rounds, and rubber bullets." His new supervisor and guide through orientation, Alex Fhizer, said as he showed Kon how to access, inventory, lock, and re-conceal the cache. "Everytime you pass by a cache on patrol, you will check the inventory again and sign off on it with the date and time. If anything is different from the previous inventory entry, you will immediately radio the tower and the island will be put on lockdown." Greyish Hazel eyes peered out of a weathered face staring Kon down. "You will never neglect to inventory a cache while on patrol. You will never neglect to report an inventory discrepancy. The first time you do you will be fired immediately and you can count yourself damn lucky if that's all that happens to you." 

Fhizer was intense, man.

"Yes, Sir." Kon answered. Fhizer's hard look lasted another long moment before the older man gave a firm nod and continued showing Kon the ropes.

~*~*~

The second day was no where near as chill as the first. Hell, his brain was already starting to warp, there hadn't been anything chill about that orientation.

Kon started his second day by boarding the Arkham transport bus with the rest of the staff and early morning visitors to the island. That was where he saw Jasmine Fenton in the flesh for the first time. 

She has got to be part Amazonian, was his first thought upon seeing her. She was around 6ft tall with a thick mane of red hair tightly braided reaching all the way down to her waist. Jasmine was wearing teal stud earrings, a silver bangle type bracelet on her left wrist, a white blouse, black slacks, and black flats. She carried a small, clear purse that only held a small notepad, pen, house key, chapstick, and a thin teal wallet that presumably contained her IDs, debit cards, and a small amount of cash. Damn, she was tall.

Kon's concentration was broken by the quiet sound of metal crunching slightly beneath his fingers. He immediately loosened his grip on the hand rail, checking for damage with a wince. He breathed a soft sigh of relief when he saw the damage was almost entirely unnoticeable to the naked eye. He'd have to mind his strength more closely. Kon was too used to the farm and facilities that were all reinforced to handle casual use from people with super strength. 

Tim's notes indicated Arkham wasn't reinforced for super strength anywhere. Not even along the outer walls. The facility had opted to use suppression collars on their meta inmates instead since they were cheaper and easier to repair and replace according to the official reports. However, Tim's notes had also mentioned that Arkham had reinforced the outer walls to account for super strength at one point. They'd poured nearly every dime the facility could spare into the project for months until the Joker himself had taken it personally. The madman had absolutely obliterated the reinforced outer walls until no part of them remained standing. Given Joker had destroyed the walls without having any meta powers at all and his history of viciously attacking -damn near mauling- anyone that tried to put him in a straight jacket, Kon didn't really blame Arkham for stopping while they were ahead.

Kon looked up as the bus jolted to a stop. The other passengers filing off around him. He watched as Jasmine Fenton was met by Dr. Rylie in front of the bus as he waited to disembark. 

"Ms. Jasmine!" Dr. Rylie greeted her enthusiastically with a broad open grin and beaming eyes. He reached towards her with both arms, hands open and she reached back. Their right hands clasped as their left hands landed on the other's upper arms as the two greeted one another openly. Kon wasn't very familiar with intern-mentor relationships nor what would be considered normal or professional for them, but it looked like a rather affectionate greeting for them having been strangers two weeks ago. That was strange, wasn't it? Was Tim right to be worried about them?

"Ms. Jasmine is the first and only applicant for Dr. Rylie, Director Keener, and Dean Byle's hairbrained idea to hire more doctors for this place." One of the older guards that had been standing just behind him on the bus explained having apparently noticed Kon watching the pair.

"They just seemed rather affectionate for Gotham." Kon shrugged dismissively as he turned to look over his shoulder at his new colleague. The shorter man laughed.

"A bit, yeah." He agreed. "I think Dr. Rylie is just desperate for this program to work out." He continued as they finally managed to get off the bus. Dr. Rylie and Ms. Fenton were gone now. "Pretty much everyone's been treating her like a princess." 

"That doesn't seem fair to everyone else." Kon commented, dropping back a bit to let the older man lead the way to the guards room for morning debriefing and to get their assignments. He'd already memorized the layouts but 'Kyle Jennings' shouldn't have yet.

"Who cares about fair as long as it works?" The guard answered. "If treating her like a princess scores more interns for the program in the long run, and if one intern every year ends up interested in sticking around, I'll be happy to cater to every single one of them." He confessed, stopping in the middle of the hall to turn and face Kon directly. Kon glimpsed the name Ryans as the silver name badge flashed the briefly reflecting the overhead lights. "You non-gothamites just don't get it. We're desperate for whatever help we can get." 

"That's why I applied here." Kon lied. "Going to school across the bay, I heard a lot about what went down over here while I was in college. I want to help." 

Ryans gave a short solemn nod then turned and led the rest of the way to the break room. 

~*~*~

Day four undercover was when Kon officially met Jasmine Fenton. 

Everything had been going well so far with his undercover assignment. He'd settled in to the role of Kyle Jennings, been getting along well with his new coworkers including Ryans and Fhizer, and hadn't yet managed to screw up inventorying the caches during the outer patrol loops. That being said, Kon was having other issues.

The worst part of being an unstable Kryptonian clone was that his strength tended to fluctuate. It normally wasn't much of an issue when he was surrounded by reinforced everything in his daily life but here at Arkham it was becoming a problem. Case in point, Kon thought to himself with an exhausted groan as his freshly made coffee mug shattered in his hand.

"Oh come on." He sighed snatching a handful of paper towels from the counter and bending to wipe up the coffee and ceramic shards on the floor. At least he was the only one in the room when it shattered. The door clicked softly behind him and Kon jumped twisting to look. 

Jasmine Fenton stood behind him having just closed the door to the break room after entering.

"What happened here?" She asked, sounding bewildered with slightly wide eyes as she took in the mess on the floor. Thank God. She didn't see it.

"Guess I was a bit more tired than I thought." He said with a forced laugh in order to hide his nerves. "Slipped right through my fingers."

She nodded, accepting his words at face value. 

"I've done that more than a few times close to finals." She admitted. "You guys have 10 hour shifts, right? You must be exhausted. When's your next day off?"

"The day after tomorrow." Kon said. "This is day 3 for me since orientation doesn't count."

"You get 2 days off followed by an on-call day, right?" She asked.

"Right," Kon agreed. "AKA 2 days of freedom and a day chained to the Bowery." He joked.

"Absolutely terrible, they may as well put an ankle monitor on you." She cracked back grinning. Kon snickered. The door opened again.

"I see you found another non-gothamite here." Dr. Rylie said striding into the break room with a wide grin.

"Sounds like that makes three of us." Kon agreed. Outside of Joker, he had never seen a gothamite grin that wide in his life.

"Dr. Thomas Rylie, a pleasure to meet you." Dr. Rylie introduced himself holding out his hand to shake. Kon shook his hand as gently as possible, mindful his strength was on the fritz.

"Kyle Jennings, nice to meet you. I just started as a guard earlier this week." He said then held his hand out to shake Jasmine's.

"Jasmine Fenton, I'm an intern therapist. This is my second week here." She greeted with a warm smile shaking Kon's hand. She didn't say anything about being glad to meet him, Kon noted. It wasn't exactly strange behavior but something made him take note of it anyway. Like by not saying it she was saying she hadn't decided whether meeting him was a good or bad thing yet. Dr. Rylie didn't seem to notice anything off with the interaction though as he went about making his own coffee. The three of them made idle small talk as they made their own coffees. Once his new cup was ready, Kon bid them both goodbye and went on his way. While they were his main objective, lingering too long this early into their aquantiantship would probably be strange.

He had several other small friendly interactions with both of them over the next few days. Taking the time for greetings, small talk, and sharing small bits of casual background info from Kyle Jennings's past to encourage them both to open up to him. He also broke a clipboard, two more coffee cups, several pens, and a doorknob during that time as his strength continued to fluctuate. The doorknob had been particularly embarrassing. He had gone to open the door for Jasmine when he saw her with her arms full of files and somehow managed to twist it in such a way that the screws holding it in place sheered off and the knob came off in his hand. Collins, his partner for building patrol that day, burst out laughing hysterically as Kon stared at the doorknob in horror.

"No worries, man." Collins said, clapping Kon on the shoulder still snickering. "Someone else probably broke it and put it back so they wouldn't get scolded or something."

"Yeah," Kon said with a nervous laugh. "That must be what happened."

Jasmine's eyes flicked between the two of them then she grinned.

"And here I thought you just really hated that door." She teased Kon. He felt his face heat up as Collins laughed at him again.

"It is an ugly door." Collins agreed enthusiastically smirking.

"Terribly ugly. Hideous even," Jasmine said with a smile.

"Possibly even traumatizing to behold," Collins continued to smirk.

"You've got me. I have a deep rooted traumatic fear of metal taupe doors." Kon deadpanned ears burning. Jasmine snickered as Kon got the door open for her and they went their separate ways.

~*~*~

"What have you found so far?" Tim asked. Kon did not have the words to express how much he didn't want to be at the Nest at 3am on his first day off from undercover work. If it was anyone other than Tim he wouldn't have even answered the phone.

"Literally nothing," Kon said dryly. "I am still the newest of newbies at Arkham. I practically spent the whole week being babysat by senior guardsmen." He sighed, reminding himself that it wasn't Tim's fault that he was a little insomniac goblin and that Kon really did love his friend and would be sad if he hurt Tim's feelings. Eventually. When he woke up again in the morning. "I did start befriending them both though. It's slow going since we're in different areas but nearly being the only non-gothamites there seems to be helping me make some headway at least." 

There was one other non-gothamite on staff, a medical nurse named Sharon Earley. She was in her mid-thirties and the most sour and unpleasant person Kon had had the displeasure of meeting so far on Arkham's staff. Not that Kon could blame her for that. Not when she had several large ragged scars spanning from her chin and down both of her arms from when Zsazz had gotten hold of her alone after dark her second year at Arkham. It was a damn miracle she'd survived him. Kon didn't know how she managed it but he wouldn't try to find out either. Ryans had taken him aside right before he first met Nurse Earley and warned him not to stare or ask about any of it and then explained the bare basics of what happened to her after they'd left. 

Tim probably had a file with every detail of that night as well as information about Sharon Earley's life both before and after that night somewhere on his computer. The thought made Kon nauseous. 

"Good, good," Tim said absently as he updated the mission file on his computer. The keys clicked so rapidly that Kon again reconsidered whether or not his best friend had super speed. "Better to keep them from suspecting than to rush in anyway." 

"Exactly." 

Tim continued asking questions about every little detail he could think of concerning Dr. Rylie, Jasmine Fenton, and the rogues currently in Arkham.

"They don't let me near those guys yet. I'm too new." Kon said when Tim asked if Scarecrow looked to be plotting more than usual.

"They don't?" Tim sounded surprised, going so far as to stop typing so he could turn and stare at Kon. The clone was amused to note something about his statement had managed to wake Tim up enough to be visibly shocked instead blank-faced with exhaustion.

"Of course not," Kon answered trying to keep the amusement from his voice as much as possible. "As many times as your rogues have broken out they're leary of letting new hires near them in case they're goons in disguise." 

Tim sank back into his chair looking like Kon had uprooted his whole world by proving the Earth really was flat via actual science.

"That's impossible." Tim said sounding faint. "Everytime there's a mass breakout, we always hear that some of the guards helped them escape. How?..." He trailed off, eyes darting rapidly like he was tracking lines of an invisible conspiracy board in the air in front of him. Kon shrugged, uncomfortable with this new information.

"Scuttlebutt is that the people helping them escape are visitors. The guards get blamed because the goons visit wearing clothes similar to the guard uniform from a distance. All blue polo shirts and black pants look similar at a distance." Kon explained. "It also doesn't help that the guards can't really do much to stop the escape attempts since they only have stun grenades, tranquilizer darts, batons, low voltage tazers, and rubber bullets to fight back with. So as long as enough people are involved in the escape attempt at least some of them will make it out even if the guards manage to to tranquilize several of them." 

Tim still looked like Kon was blowing his mind. It was such a rare experience that Kon had to continue.

"Plus the tranquilizer darts and the rubber bullets have to be fired from different hardware." Kon told him. "Which sucks because you have to carry twice the amount of weight while chasing after the escapees which slows you down and it takes longer to swap between them."

There was something similar to mystified horror spreading across his friend's face now.

"Speaking if swapping between them, they have different ranges too." Kon continued gleefully. Half because it was fun wrecking Tim's worldview and half to actually impart the information. "Batons are short-range. Tranquilializer darts and stun grenades are mid-range. Rubber bullet riffles are long-range."

"If that's all it is, WE can fund then better gear to control the inmates." Tim interrupted turning back to the computer and swiftly typing out a list of things to send Arkham. Kon shook his head.

"That won't work." He disagreed gently. "They aren't failing because of the gear itself."

Tim turned back around to face him, confused. This was not going to be a fun conversation, Kon swallowed hard and forced himself to continue.

"The problem is that if you fire the rubber bullet riffles from mid or short range you could seriously injury or even kill the patient. If they get past mid-range, you'll miss them completely using tranquilizer darts or stun grenades. If you try to use either of those at short-range it'll be bad for you whether it's because they'll get hold of you before the tranquilizer knocks them out or because you'll stun yourself too."

Comprehension and trepidation began to dawn on Tim's face. He deflated in his chair, sinking lower and lower as he stared off into nowhere.

"You also can't hit them with more than one tranquilizer dart in a four hour window because you could accidently kill them that way. That also means even though you have a baton, you typically can't do enough damage to them to keept them from escaping because that might potentially kill them." Kon said completely solemn now as he relayed the information. "Because regardless of the reputation Arkham has or what the patients have done, it is still a hospital and they are still patients." 

Tim was staring directly at Kon now. Mouth open, face slack, eyes wide with a kind of numbed shock. Kon held his gaze.

"Yeah," Kon said after a moment. "Yeah, that's how I reacted too." He looked down, picking at his nails for a moment before forcing himself to stop and meet Tim's gaze again. "Phizer, my new 'boss', made sure to drill that into my head during orientation. 'Arkham's guards exist first and foremost to protect the patients. Arkham isn't supposed to be a prison. It's a medical facility. The patients are confined to the premises because their affliction has made them dangerous and they have to stay so that we can keep them and others safe from further harm. We are here to keep the patients and staff from hurting each other, themselves, or being hurt by people outside of Arkham's walls.' Not gonna lie, man." Kon said quirking a bitter grin as his did. "Hearing that kind of fucked me up a bit."

Tim sucked in a huge heaving breath then slowly let it out before he responded.

"I can't say I ever thought about it like that." He admitted in a soft strained voice. "Can't say I ever wanted to either." There was a bitter tinge to his words.

"Yeah, neither did I." Kon answered, shoulders slumping a bit. "Was there anything else you wanted to ask me? I kind of want to head back and sleep a bit."

Tim shook his head slowly.

"No, I think we're good at the moment." He said looking twice as exhausted and drained now as he did when Kon first got there. Kon nodded.

"Good night then. I'll see you later, man." He said, pushing off the wall he'd been leaning against and heading for the door.

"Be safe, Kon." Tim answered softly turning back to his computer.

[mothhball]

The Accessory – Masterlist

Summary

One final internship and a resulting thesis is mandatory if you want to graduate with a degree from Gotham U. Those are the rules. And you're already a mature student, so you'd better get to it. With big hopes and a charming smile, you apply to the infamous Arkham Asylum. This will end in disaster, won't it?

Warnings

Will contain blood and gore, manipulation, emotional cheating, corruptions of morals and smut. Please check the warnings on the individual chapters for more details. <3

TAGLIST

!!! MINORS DNI !!!

Chapters

CODE: ♡ - fluff | ✦ - smut | ☢ - dark themes | ☂ - angst

Prologue

I – BIVIUM

II – VIRIDIS (☂ ?)

III – SEQUOR (coming soon)

IV – MUTATIO

V – LEPOS

VI – IMBER

VII

VIII

IX

X

[beesmygod]

dark souls lore: velka, goddess of sin, and that stupid plot against the stupid gods (5k words)

*written to entertain both hardcore fans and fandom rubberneckers

i made the mistake of thinking about dark souls lore the other day after choosing to make myself mad about the remaster again, but in the worst possible way. soulsborne fans know to fear and run from anyone who starts talking about this unseen character known only through item descriptions: velka, goddess of sin. if you start talking about velka you’re too far gone in the souls sauce and about to spout some of the most unhinged nonsense ever uttered by a human on the entire history of the planet. velka and the highly secretive “plot against the gods” are quietly mentioned in less than 10 item descriptions. no character utters her name or speaks of the rebellion she participated in, she and her comrades do not appear in the game…probably. its complicated.

her inclusion initially reads as a throw-away means of world-building; much like the now infamous line about the “clone wars” in “star wars: a new hope” that was needlessly fleshed out into a trilogy that haunts us even to this day, the item descriptions serve to establish that you have entered a world overflowing with heroes and history that you were not privy to nor took part in. these events are such a basic foundation of lordran history that no one mentions it because it would be inorganic and narratively heavy-handed. its like if we walked around talking about when lincoln was shot on a day to day basis just in case anyone wasn’t up to speed.

anyway, this thought process started after i realized how fucking weird it is that a giant crow transports you from undead asylum to firelink shrine…why would it do that??? like, yes, obviously it’s a gameplay contrivance in order to get you from point A to point B with a cinematic, fantastical flair, i understand that. i also understand that velka herself is a gameplay contrivance with story written around it to soften the landing, but unfortunately, dark souls is a thread that unravels quickly when you pick at it, revealing shocking narrative cohesion underneath. if you’re completely insane, that is.

we will do this in a journalistic manner: who, what, when, where, why. but first, it requires a lot of dark souls history/lore context. it’s a lot. stick with me.

---

(READ MORE)

this is so much info. this also contains gay dragon theory and somehow argues that it's supported by text. why not. please enjoy this unbelievable amount of words regarding a non-entity who does not exist meaningfully in any of the three games.

[fatehbaz]

Hmm. Alarming trend in mass incarceration in Central America.

Also: Very disingenuous wordplay here.

Where do we begin?

-- Very disingenuous for multiple outlets to run with "the West”. Though this initial AP article does specify that this refers to the Western Hemisphere, the choice to run headlines with “West” kinda implies that there are no other island prisons in “The West” (as in the European Union, the United States, Australia, etc.).

-- One of the most infamous incarceration schemes on the planet is Australia’s “Pacific Solution,” a “solution” to refugee migration centered on the imprisonment of asylum seekers on island prisons, including the infamous prisons at Nauru and Manus, both opened initially in 2001, and re-fortified after 2012. (Nauru is extremely isolated, in the South Pacific, 3000 kilometers away from the Australian coast; the Manus detention centre is far away off the northeast coast of Papua.) Since 2012, over 3,125 people have been sent to Nauru while over 4,180 people have been sent to Manus. (The “last refugee held on the Pacific island of Nauru under Australia’s offshore detention policy” was “evacuated” to mainland Australia only on 24 June 2023, not even a month prior to this headline.)

-- Obviously the EU incarcerates refugees on Mediterranean islands, notoriously at Moria on Lesbos, whose international reputation as the home of Sappho has been supplanted by its reputation as a de facto prison for asylum seekers. In October 2015, over 10,000 people landed on Lesbos in just one day. In 2017, the island averaged 2,500 arrivals per month. By 2019, humanitarian investigations showed that over 10,000 people were being held in a facility with a maximum capacity of 3,000. In 2020, fires left over 12,000 refugees on the island without shelter. By December 2021, Doctors Without Borders raised alarm that over 2,200 refugees were living in “dire” conditions on the island. As of early 2023, Lesbos (along with Kos, Leros, Chios, and Samos) is hosting over 4,500 people who are stuck in “reception and identification centers.”

-- And in the Western Hemisphere? The US prison at Guantanomo, also on the coast of an island in this same sea.

-- One of the most notorious island prisons was the early twentieth century French penal colony on the periphery of the Caribbean region at Guiana (run by a France, a “Western” power, in the Western Hemisphere), known internationally as “Devil’s Island.”

-- The federal government says the prison will be built “in harmony with nature.”

-- A prison ... in harmony with nature.

-- An island prison in the Caribbean, a region fundamentally and intimately connected to centuries of imprisonment, plantations, Indigenous genocide, antiBlackness, racial castes, and chattel slavery, all achieved and enforced through the bounded, isolated geographic containment structure allowed by islands.

-- And this is extra-worrying, because it seems it’s a regional trend, evidently for Honduras, El Salvador, and Colombia.

-- Merely a few days before this headline about Honduras, international outlets were profiling Honduras’s direct neighbor, El Salvador, with headlines like “Inside El Salvador’s new ‘mega prison’” (Al Jazeera) and, within the past couple months, headlines like “Prisoners are being tortured to death in El Salvador’s prisons” (VICE News).

-- From less than a week before this AP headline, we have BBC: “El Salvador’s secretive mega-jail.”

-- Don’t forget nearby Tapachula’s detention of asylum seekers.

Still discussing implementation of literal island prisons despite our collective familiarity with carceral archipelagoes.

[darthannie]

day seventeen: praise kink with jonathan crane

pairing: Jonathan Crane x f!reader word count: 532 warnings: not much really, lots of praise, oral sex a/n: Finally got around to writing a shorter one! I really like the idea of Jonathan being all sweet and shit. Really makes me Think. kinktober masterlist

Your boyfriend, Jonathan, was usually stressed when he got home from work. Being a doctor in one of the most infamous places in Gotham did a number on him. He entered your apartment and hung up his coat and traversed the apartment to find you. You were in the bedroom, lounging after a long day. You got up and gave him a hug and a kiss. 

“I missed you today,” he said. “I’ve been thinking about you all day.” 

“Yeah, what about me?” 

He smiled and stroked your face. His voice was soft. “I kept thinking about you on your knees for me.”

“Like this?” You knelt in front of him and pulled out his cock. You licked along the length before putting it in your mouth. He quickly hardened as you sucked. You moaned as he twitched in your mouth. “Good girl. You’re so good at that,” he whispered. Jonathan stroked your cheek, feeling himself through it. 

He took some control back, thrusting deeper into your mouth. You gagged slightly and he laughed lightheartedly. “Come on I know you can take it.” 

You closed your eyes and relaxed your throat, moaning as he finally put his entire cock in your mouth. He pulled out and gestured for you to get on the bed. You sat up on the bed and he curled a finger to coax you closer to him. You slid towards the edge of the bed and took off your underwear and silk slip, leaving you completely bare. 

“Open up for me,” he said. You’re jaw unhinged and he immediately stuck two fingers in your mouth, pressing down on your tongue. He slid his fingers in and out of your mouth, making you suck. You coated them in your spit. “Beautiful. Look at those absolutely gorgeous lips wrapped around my fingers. Perfect.” 

Once he was satisfied, he took those same fingers and stuck them inside of you, bending them at the knuckle. He got down on his knees and ran his tongue around your clit. He licked and sucked like he needed it more than anything. He pulled away after a few minutes. “I need to be inside you. Now.” 

He didn’t even bother taking off his clothes. He lifted your legs and helped you move further onto the bed. He entered you swiftly, tossing his head back as he felt you squeeze around him. He wanted you cum soon, setting a fast pace. “I’ve been waiting all day for this. You’re taking me so well.” He moaned as he watched you underneath him. “You’re so pretty when you squirm. Do you wanna cum, pretty girl?”  You nodded rapidly and he rubbed your clit with his thumb, quickening his pace. His voice was saccharine, “Cum for me.”

Your body shook as you reached your peak. “Look at that pretty little face. You’re so pretty when you cum.” When your body calmed he pulled out of you and stroked himself before spilling on your stomach. He groaned, “Look at how much you made me cum. Fuck, what a good girl.” You felt your face get warm. He was being particularly sweet today, there must have been something in the water. 

Taglist:

@devotedlyshadowytheorist, @dxnger-dxys, @tommyshelbywhore, @quinnlilias,@madnessandobsession, @mvpr-moon, @nela-cutie, @faebirdie, @charmed-asylum, @anasanthology, @ilikefictionalmen, @akanne-aka, @no-fooking-fighting,@queenofstresss, @flwrs4aust, @mrkdvidal1989, @00hsv, @laylasbunbunny

(If something is up with your tag or you would like to be added, let me know!)