#oh noes! someone who disagrees with me on some small point!

[freedfromthegalactichivemind]

Reasons why Spop is one of the worst fandoms:   The 50,000th person complains about the writing, the last-season characterization and oh, noes, ships becoming canon or near-canon that they do not agree with!!!   Someone comes along to defend some of the writing, express a general chill-ness with the ships, but also a chill-ness with people not being into the ships / happiness with alternate ships, to give their own view on what they saw without condemning the OP, just “hey, I see a little difference here.” - along with one’s own complaints about the series writing, but, you know, just friendly giving of opinion as a fellow fan.   Blocked.  I was apparently immediately blocked.  No discussion, no rebuttal.  I wasn’t attacking anyone, I was just opining.   Then again, this is the fandom of “If you like or defend character X whom I don’t like in any way, you’re a bad person who does bad things and I hate you,” fandom.  Meanwhile, I’ve poked into discussions on the Trigun tag and have seen “Analysis of the complex relationship between the protagonist and antagonist as well their relationship with their adoptive mother” and someone comes along to give their own opinion, a little dissenting, respectful, but just how they see it, and the response is “Oh, I never saw that! This makes so much sense!  I still disagree on this point, but thank you!”     *Points to something I said earlier on this blog about better overall fandoms and how I’m glad I’m gravitating more toward them and out of this one.* 

[xxxavo]

Joker x s/o

— Joker x fem!reader insert ; Abused, beaten and broken. You knew the feelings all to well. He wanted to do so many things to you. He had done, so many things to you. All you wanted, as far back as you could remember; Is freedom. Freedom to eat, drink and sleep where ever and whenever you wanted. The only thing standing in the way or your dream was him and a few of his henchman. Unfortunately, its not like he would just move out of your way, and its not like you could just get up and go.

— Trigger warning ; Cursing, violence, gore, sexual content, sexual abuse, torture, and abuse. Very dark, do not read if your uncomfortable with dark humor or you’re very easily triggered. This theme - to me - is not for the faint hearted and if offended easily I wouldn’t read this either. Since this is for the Joker, its written to not make you love him, not make him out to be something hes not. It’s written to show him as the evil man he is who likes to control and manipulate people. You have been warned.

               You let out a shrill cry but instead only heard a crackled voice that fled aimlessly down the corridor, followed by many others from different places yet stuck in similar situations such as yourself. He had left you strapped to a chair in the middle of a dark room, deep beneath what you presumed was his lair. He, was the Joker. And the sadistic bastard made sure to keep the door wide open. Teasing you of any possibility of escaping, as the lights creepily flicked on and off, illuminating the tile floors that was still covered with small traces of blood which seemed to travel on for miles. Joker liked to call this horror show his own Arkham Asylum. Unfortunately for you and many other of its inhabitants, the Joker was not as fond as containing the mentally insane in his ‘Asylum’ as he was with keeping the healthy minded.

           In your room - which you had heard been called ‘Room red’ many times - there was nothing but black walls, black floor and a wooden chair which as mentioned you were currently strapped to. In front of you, the door still stayed wide open, slowly creaking shut as every second ticked by. The noise was pure agony to your ear drums, making you let out another horrified squeal. Perhaps this place was making you insane. After all the treatment Joker made sure came your way, the smallest things would set you off and put you on edge. Many times the man had refereed to you as his ‘Special patient’ or ‘Experimental Guinea pig’. He said you were clever. Smarter then the other idiots who resided in his prison cells.

           Such thoughts brought you to relief when the metal door slammed shut right before your very eyes, causing your neck to twitch. You were smart enough to figure out that this place was designed by the Joker to be the complete opposite of the real Arkham Asylum. It wasn’t designed to help the ill get better. Instead, It was designed to see how ill he could make the better. If he could force them to be as deranged as him, if not more so. A sudden panic jolted through the very bones in your body, making you lurch forward on the chair vomiting up what you could only assume was blood all over your bare knees and underwear. After a few more painful coughs, all the contents were out of your stomach, though, you doubted it was a good thing if the contents of your stomach was blood.

           The volatile metallic taste stayed in your mouth. Forcing you to lick the rest of it from around your mouth and swallow it down. The action however, only caused your stomach to throw up more contents. This time however it was defiantly vomit. The smell was undeniable and if your gut wasn’t already empty more would have come up in no time. But instead, you were left to gag none stop for what felt like an hour. The slimy traces of your sick gliding down your knee, to your ankle and before greasing up in between your toes. The chunky, wet, gooey pieces sticking to your skin. To try and make the situation better, you slowly moved your toes to try and shake off the vomit, though, that only made it stringy and mix with the blood, Causing you to get into yet another gagging fit.

          Was this all your life would consist of now? Crying, gagging and screaming? Whimpering you remembered how you had begged him to end it. Begged him to kill you in away way he pleased. As long as by the end of it you would be dead. But did he listen? Somewhat. The joker had told you, he was killing you. Just slowly, but just long enough to see how much someone as simple minded as yourself could take torment and torture. That was before he told you how sexy you looked vulnerable, how he liked how big your lips had gotten now they were swollen. He told you he liked big lips, and he liked how skinny your stomach was now he had been starving you. He said bones were an absolute turn on for him since they reminded him of a corpse after it had finished rotting away like you would do soon.

         You remembered him grabbing your arm and un-tying you, holding you down as you tried to run past him over to the metal door, over to what you could now only assume to be freedom. The jokers hands held your arms against the wall firmly, his nails digging into your skin until you were both bruised and bleeding. At this point your room was still dark as per usual, but hos face was so white it was the only thing you could see. You suspected he did that on purpose. To scare his victims into believing the only light at the end of the tunnel…was him. And suddenly you didn’t want to die anymore. You wanted to live. You wanted to live despite his fist punching your face in so much your noes had broken and everything was blurry, so blurry you couldn’t tell the difference between up and down. You wanted to live even though his beating had left you exhausted and rendered helpless, even when his hands began tearing off your clothing till you were left bare. You desperately wanted to live when he turned you so your cheek was smothered into the ice cold floor, drool and blood escaping the corner of your mouth as his fingers danced across your back. His left hand cupping and pinching at your nipple whilst his right held a knife. Carving degrading words into your back which stung like a bitch. Words like slut, slag, whore, bitch.

         You oh so desperately wanted to live as he threw the knife down and rammed into your tight hole. Pounding into you as you only managed to let out raspy pleas of him to stop before finally going silent. You just wanted to live, even after he had come back several days that week, just to carve more words into your skin and just to try new positions that he knew you could never disagree to because you couldn’t. You wanted to live; To prove him wrong.

       After that fitful day Harley Quinn herself began paying you visits. You had allowed her Puddin’ to apparently pleasure you as he did to her. Despite trying to assure her that wasn’t the case, and what he did to you wasn’t pleasuring. The Psycho still took pleasure in beating you senseless before throwing you out of your cell bound. Parading you around the different cells to make you feel small, to make you feel worthless. Ashamed. Which soon, you did. She let other men play with you. Touch you in similar ways to the Joker. She let them shove themselves into every nook and cranny they could find on your body. Leaving you and sobbing filthy mess.

        Did you still want to live? You didn’t know?

        How long had you been in here? Days? Weeks? Months? Years? Seconds? Minuets? Hours? Milliseconds? No to long to short. Maybe centuries? No, no that cant possibly be it. How long had it been? Yesterday he had told you 6 months or so.But no that wasn’t right that had been only but a few days ago not yesterday you had slept three times since then but it was so dark you didn’t know if it was night or day anymore. Taking a shaky breath. A soft chuckle left your lips.

“(Reader insert)~” A voice that was all to familiar called. You hadn’t noticed the door open softly, a man walking inside. His face white, his hair green, his lips ruby red. Smirking down at you, his pasty skin crinkling in unnatural places. The joker pouted mockingly before speaking. “Aw my poor baby. Look at your face.” He suddenly laughed menacingly. “You use to be so pretty. But i suppose after breaking your noes and leaving some pretty scars here and there, your messed up in your looks like I am in my head.” He laughed harder. Jabbing at your ribs causing you to yell out in pain. “Poor fat, disgusting (Reader insert). Trust me when I tell you. You’ll never get saved looking like that. Old bats would think your some monster, and run the other way.”

         So. Did you still want to live? Being the ugly creature you now were?