#save me pathetic loser of a pig

[arealphrooblem]

Okay so if you’re doing requests and this looks enjoyable enough to do ( no pressure if you don’t want to I get it) a villain x hero where they’re fighting and hero gets pushed into the water and villian is about to leave but hero can’t swim. So villain is like there’s no way I’m gonna let them die as stupidly as drowning I need to kill them properly and saves them but with a lot of romantic? tension (I’m such a pathetic loser for hero x villian) hope this makes sense lmfao (perhaps hero has a fear of water and is shaking really badly and villian is like hugging and petting them because they feel bad cause they’ve never seen hero so distressed)

Not sure if this is exactly what you pictured but I had fun!

warnings: drowning, near death experience

"Well well well, if it isn't a little mouse caught in my trap."

He had waited before making his entrance, watching the hero struggle to stay upright, clinging to his own feet until his strength left him and he fell back upside down. 

His footsteps echoed in the chamber as he stepped further inside. The hero dangled on a rope over a deep pool of water, hands tied behind his back. Villain crouched down and sloshed the water a bit, as if rinsing something from his gloves. 

"Or perhaps a worm wriggling on a hook would be a more apt comparison."

The hero glared, though the feathery hair hanging over his face like a sheepdog rather killed the intimidation factor. 

"What do you want this time?" he said. "Are you planning some kind of heist? Is there some kind of council of evil-doers you don't want me to mess up?"

The Villain laughed. "You know I don't play well with others. No, I was excavating the cave system here and found, to my delight, an underground lake. It's very deep and very inspiring for a new trap. Which, naturally, you walked right into."

"So you're just using me as a guinea pig?" the hero asked flatly. 

Villain dipped another finger back in the water, swirling it around to watch the ripples skitter across the murky depths. "I was thinking of putting in piranhas. An anaconda perhaps? Catfish big enough to swallow you whole."

"You know that kind of thing only works in the movies, right?"

"I could make it work," said the Villain absently, mind already racing turning the logistics of it.

He faintly registered the sound of creaking rope as the Hero struggled, but was too lost in his own thoughts to pay it much attention. He only registered the scraping sound of boots against stone before the fist of the hero came swinging into view. 

Villain dodged just in time, the hero's woozy balance from his time spent upside down the only advantage Villain had.  

"Next time keep a better eye on your prisoner," the Hero said, cocky grin on his face.  

Villain rolled back up to his feet and kicked the hero square in the chest.

The hero fell back into the water, the splash washing up against the Villain's boots. 

And then he disappeared. Villain waited for a few seconds. 

"There's no point in trying to find an exit," he cried down to the water. "You'll drown before you find your way out."

Nothing. Then, abruptly, the Hero's face broke through the surface long enough to take a strangled gasp of air before sinking back down again. 

That was when it finally clicked for Villain -- the Hero was drowning. Right now. He wasted a few more precious seconds, gripped by horrified paralysis, before shucking off his cape and diving into the pool. 

For a horrible moment Villain became disoriented -- the same murky darkness was both above and below, the surface incomprehensible. This was a horrible idea -- this was a horrible, stupid idea and now Villain was going to drown right along side Hero and for what? For this irritating need for his attention? For the way he --

A flailing limb caught Villain in the ribs, knocking some much needed sense into him. He wrapped his arms around the Hero's body and began to kick his way upward. (Or what he would pray was upward -- if he was the praying type). 

Just as his lungs burned with the desperate need for air, they broke the surface. Villain coughed and spluttered as he dragged the two of them further up the ground. Hero stayed dangerously silent. 

"Hero?" 

Villain shook him, but the Hero remained unresponsive. He slapped the hero's cheek a few times and then leaned down close his mouth.

No breathing.

Icy dread coiled in the Villain's gut. The past kicked in, training that he hadn't used in years taking over his body. Villain started CPR, the steps carried out on autopilot.

Like riding a bicycle.

Eventually the hero gasped, deep and desperate. Water splattered on the stone as he turned and coughed. Relief made Villain dizzy, like a drug, like a hit of oxygen after asphyxiation.

And then the anger set in.

"What the hell was that?" he demanded.

The hero didn't answer. He leaned his forehead against the solid ground, breathing shakily.

"Can you not swim?"

How long had Villain left him suspended over that pool? And yet the hero had never flinched, never lost his cool, despite death only a few feet away. It only fueled Villain's anger. What if the rope had been faulty? What if the Hero had lost his balance when he escaped his bonds?

Villain shoved the hero on his back and straddled him, his fingers digging into the other man's soaked shirt.

"How the fuck do you not know how to swim?!" he snarled

The Hero shook his head, one hand clutching at the Villain's. Not to tear away, not to struggle out of the Villain's hold. Just clinging to it. His fingers shook.

In fact, the Villain could feel the Hero's entire body tremble beneath him. Of course -- the cave was cold, the underground lake even more so. But that didn't explain the labored breathing, the eyes squeezed tight, the fingers holding tightly to Villain's hand.

Villain knew fear when he saw it. He dealt in it, his favorite currency. Whatever bravado the Hero had earlier had left him entirely. All that remained was the pit deep terror that only a near-death experience or severe phobia could bring.

It looked wrong on Hero.

"Hey." Villain cleared his throat. "Look at me." He shook the Hero, more gently, until the other man cracked open his eyes. "You're alright. You're on solid ground again. You're safe --"

The hero snorted.

"Well  -- safe for now," the Villain amended.  He had so much more experience with creating fear than abolishing it. 

"Until you find some other way to try to murder me," the hero said. 

"You can't pin this one on me," the Villain argued. "I didn't know you were an idiot who couldn't swim."

The Hero's brow furrowed. "Why did you save me? You had the perfect opportunity to finally get rid of me."

"I don't want to get rid of you," Villain hissed before he could filter it. 

He froze at the unexpected confession and the Hero cocked his head to the side, eyes alight, fear forgotten. 

"Oh?" he said. 

"I want to -- destroy you," the Villain amended. "Publicly. So that no one could ever doubt my prowess over yours. There are no witnesses here."

The Hero had the audacity to smirk. "Is that why you kissed me?"

The Villain threw the Hero back down in disgust. "I didn't kiss you -- I performed CPR you absolute buffoon."

"To save my life. Like a Hero."

The triumph in Hero's face was unbearable. Villain stood up, brushing dirt from his clothes, trying to ignore the strange fluttering in his stomach. 

"Go home," he said. "We're done here. I trust you can find your own way out. You've done so enough times."

He headed towards the secret elevator, not daring to turn around and look at the Hero still laying on the ground for fear of revealing his red-tipped ears, the flush on his cheeks. 

Ridiculous. 

He only heard the hero call out once, just before the elevator doors closed.

"Maybe next time you should kiss me." Part 2 here

[mcx7demonbros]

MC’s Damnation

Or MC goes to Hell, Dark version

Ft. GN!MC, the Demon Brothers

C/W: mention of the pain of Hell and its punishments, degrading words & actions towards reader, gore, cannibalism. Suggestive and implied sex in Lucifer and Asmodeus’s parts.

Prologue

You sided with the demons, mocking Father and His effort to save you. Since you separated yourself from Him in life, you are for eternity separated from Him after death, along with eternal happiness.

Depart from me, ye cursed, into everlasting fire, prepared for the devil and his angels.

Matt. 25:41

Well, at least the Brothers would have the Brothers with you for eternity, or so you thought. You were proven wrong…deadly wrong.

Hell’s Ring of Sloth

You were thrown into a snake pit.

You were lazy during your life, so you would never get to rest in Hell. The snakes and their venom would make sure you are always in infinite pain. No one could rest if they’re in pain.

“Hello, MC.”

“Belphie, save me. It’s so painful.”

“Why should I save you, you lazy pig!?” Belphie used his hand to choke you, he raised you up from the snake pit, yet the snakes kept sticking to you and bit you.

“Bel-phie?”

“Stop calling me “Belphie”, pig!”

“Bel…” tears flowing out of your eyes, you still don’t understand what he’s saying. Is this some cruel joke?

“The relationship we had, it was all just a delusion, it was a lie. Sometimes you were so naive that I thought your brain was made from tofu, or was it you were too lazy that your brain stop functioning?…*laugh*…”

“Is it painful? Compared to that time I choked you, which is more painful?…*laugh*” Belphegor began to choke your harder.

*bone breaking sound*

“Oh, your neck broke, MC.” Belphie chuckled before he touched your skin with his finger.

“You will be my new pillow today.” Belphie stripped off your whole skin from you and threw you back into the pit. “I will tell Levi to stuff something inside to make a pillow for me.” You heard the seventh born mumbled before he left.

You wounds on your body soon healed so you continue to suffer.

You don’t know how much time has passed since it’s eternity in Hell. But Belphegor eventually came back. “MC, my last pillow broke. So I came back for a new one.”

Hell’s Ring of Envy

Drowned in freezing water

You are so cold that you literally turned into an ice sculpture, yet you are still shaking.

It was in the icy lake that Levi found you.

“Levi, I’m so cold” you cried to him, but you soon noticed something’s wrong with him. His eyes were cold and distant.

“Le-vi…”

“Call me Admiral, you bitch!” Leviathan slapped you, the hit from the demon was so strong that you head made a 180-degree turn.

“MC, you always thought that you were a main protagonist, right? So you thought everything should be yours or about you. But in fact, you’re nothing but a pathetic loser normie who envied others.”

You couldn’t believe in what you saw, is this the Levi you knew? Has he always been like that? Where the gamer stuttering otaku Levi?

“Since I’ve come here to welcome you to Hell, I will leave you with a gift.” Levi’s fangs grew larger and he bit you.

“Arghhhhhhh, it’s so hot…hot…and cold…and hot…”

“It’s my venom. Guess you haven’t seen it before. Now your body will be hot inside, and cold outside…*laugh*…you will become Yin-Yang MC…” Leviathan laughed harder this time, you were not sure if he laughed at you, or at the joke he had just made.

Hell’s Ring of Gluttony

Force fed rats, toads, and snakes.

“MC, EAT!”

“I can’t, Beel-.”

Beelzebub didn’t even care, he kept putting the food in your mouth. Your mouth and throat were full of disgusting those disgusting Hell’s food. Normally, you would be choking to death, but guess you can’t die here.

“It seems you can’t eat anymore. Guess I’ll have to eat you now.”

What? Tears flowed from your eyes as Beelzebub tore you apart and devoured you. You had heard about demon eating human many many times when you were alive. It was the first time you experienced it first-hand, and it was so painful that you knew all the pain and hardship on earth were nothing compared to this.

“Oh you came back, MC!” You were respawn and Beelzebub was there, with a spoonful of combination of rat, toad, and snake’s meat. “It’s meal time, MC.”

Hell’s Ring of Wrath

Live dismemberment

“MC, look, it’s your right leg.” Satan held your leg up for you to see, he had just finished ripping off your leg, which he did very slow and intentionally made many mistakes so that you suffer more pain.

You cried. Where’s the gentle Satan?

“MC, there’s no gentle Satan, he never existed.” Satan told you as he left your left leg, which he had ripped 99% off, dangling from your body. He left it fall off from your body by itself.

“Let’s see, alright, next we will come your ears.”

That’s what usually happened, but sometimes, Satan feels so wrathful that he vents all his wrath on you, turning you into a messed corpse, then feed you to the lesser demons. Well you would respawn anyways, he could still play with you more.

Hell’s Ring of Lust

Covered in fire and brimstone

“Ewww, MC, you’re so ugly, I can’t believe we used to share a bed.”

“As-mo?”

“Ew, someone gets this disgusting thing away from me. Ugly things like this should never exist to begin with. What Father was thinking when he created this!?”

Your heart broke. All those words of praising and loving Asmodeus gave you when you were still a human were all fake…lies…deceitful words…

“Arghhhhhhhh” while you were thinking, Asmodeus ripped your heart out of you.

“Such a trash. I thought this whore’s heart can be made into some jewelry…*sigh*” the Avatar of Lust threw your heart away, you couldn’t see where your heart rolled to. It didn’t matter anyways, your wounds would soon be healed, including you heart, so that you could continue suffer.

“Oh no, I’m late for the date with Lizzie.” Asmodeus left for his next victim.

In the end, you’re no different from his past partners. Like them, you thought he loved you. Like them, you believed in his words and your fate turned miserable.

Hell’s Ring of Greed

Boiled in oil

“Mammon, it hurts!!!”

“Shut up, greedy bastard.” Mammon spat on you.

“Mam-.”

Before you finished saying his name, Mammon pressed your head down to the oil.

“Here, drink up all ya greed…hahahahahaha.” You were forced to under the oil until your lungs burst.

“Ya look like a boiled chicken now…maybe I should take a bite out of ya.”

Hell’s Ring of Pride

Broken on a wheel

“Lucifer, please, I’ll do anything, please stop!” You cried as you were half broken under the wheel.

“*laugh*…MC, did you think of this moment when you were at the peak of a mortal’s life.”

“Please I beg you, I’ll do anything to stop this pain…I’ll spend the night in your bed.” You remembered how this always worked on Lucifer.

“Such a needy slut…*laugh*…but a broken toy like you can’t satisfy me.” Lucifer spin the wheel and you’re completely crushed.

“Come to think of it, I haven’t got a taste of your soul. Maybe I should when you respawn.”

Surprise Guest (lol)

Hah, you didn’t expect that, right?

Barbatos (Hell’s Circle of Greed)

“Barb, it hurts.”

“Oiya, MC, isn’t this the consequence of your action?”

“Barb-.”

To your surprise, Barbatos took you out of the oil cauldron. You thought you had moved Barbatos, but you were wrong.

After cleaning you, Barbatos dropped you into a large pot, full of tea leaves.

“Barb?”

“My apology. I’ve decided to change your punishment into boiled alive in tea without permission.”

You couldn’t believe in what you had just heard.

“To tell the truth, I have always wanted to know how the tea made from you will taste. I can’t wait to see the result…*laugh*…”

Originally, I only intended to make the Brothers, but the idea about Barb struck me when I was writing. And it’s his birthday. So why not add him? Mvahahahaha.

If you read this till the end, please consider reblog. <3.

Here the Original Version

My Obey Me Masterlist

TAGLIST

@sparkbeast20

@ineedabettersociallife

[cosmicjoke]

To expand on my previous statement: Hange took out multiple colossal titans when Levi has never done that. This shows he is not the strongest or as impressive as people thought. People especially general audience only like him bc of his fight scenes which have been topped now by Hange and even Mikasa so he doesn’t even have that anymore. He becomes a burden in the final chapter and has to be saved by new humanities strongest. A FLOP

You're such a loser. This is how you spend your free time? Steaming and wallowing like a pig in mud over someone liking a character you don't? The definition of pathetic. Why do you hate Levi so much? Because he's more popular than your fave? Hilarious. Get over it. No matter how much you stew and fume about it, Levi's never going to lose his spot as the most well loved character from AoT. I'm not even going to bother explaining to you why everything you just said is ridiculous and wrong, because you aren't worth anyone's time, you're probably too dumb to understand anyway, and apparently are so insecure about me liking a character you don't, that you have to send anonymous messages to me shitting on that character to make yourself feel better. Get stuffed and wallow in your resentment and hatred alone, I guess.

Unbelievable.

[prose-for-hire]

UC Sunnyhell: Part Two

Hell is a place on Earth

Previous Part // Next Part

Pairing: Spike x reader

Request: College AU where Spike is the campus bad boy who secretly is a softie that writes poems and reader is the new transfer who just moved into Spike's apartment since it was the only available room on campus (no one wants to willingly live with Spike). Spike constantly having one night stands over, reader always trying to study. Things appear to go from bad to worse.

Originally requested by: @sunflower-stan​ 

Other tag: @fictionalhoomanofnowhere

Warning: Sex references. Swearing.

The first semester had been and gone by this point. You were settling into life at UC Sunnydale, found your friendship group in Buffy and the others. But one thing you still weren’t accustomed to, was living with Spike. He was hard to get along with at the best of times but living with him was a whole different thing.

He appeared to stay up most of the night and sleep well into the afternoon. He played loud punk music almost every waking hour and he smoked like a chimney. He never appeared to listen to a word you said and he pretty much did the opposite from whatever you said or thought anyway.

It was becoming really hard to live with him. Especially when he seemed to do everything he could to make you want to move out. He found it easier to live alone. To hide in the depths of what he knew than

Because of your current living situation you had started to branch out and pursue some of your interests. It beat staying in all the time and you really wanted to find someone that you could relate to.

You were a fan of musicals and the theatre. Poetry and literature. You liked reading and the way a writer could weave such intricate feelings. Scenes and spoken word able to explain your own feelings better than you ever could.

Your new friends didn’t really share your enthusiasm – even Willow was more into science and computers. Although your friend group were kind enough to listen to the way you spoke about your interests. They certainly didn’t make you feel bad about expressing your passions. But they just didn’t share your love and so you began to try to search out people that you could connect with. On some kind of deeper level.

You had been frequenting different bars that held open mic nights. Watching plays and listening to monologues. Letting the intricate wordplay wash over you. It could make you feel so many emotions. So many feelings were conjured.

Your favourite were the open mic nights. You pretty much never got up yourself, you usually would just listen. You were working yourself up to performing something of your own. You wrote things too it was just a matter of working on your performing skills. You were thinking of joining the clubs, maybe to improve your confidence in your writing. In your performing.

You walked back home from a play you had watched (and cried at) to find Spike sat there scribbling something. It was the first time you had ever seen him actually writing or appearing to do any work.

You were about to make a snide comment about it and then he noticed your presence. He almost jumped five feet in the air in surprise. He then hid the notebook behind his back and immediately got up to leave now you had returned. He left muttering something about you being a nosy bitch.

Spike had taken the opportunity, while he finally had time where he felt comfortable since you had actually left the house for once to write. This was something he didn’t like people knowing about. He wiped his eye as he stormed away. Hoping to God you hadn’t seen that. He couldn’t bear you knowing him that way. Laughing.

It was Friday evening and you had some friends over. There was a sudden knock at the front door. Spike had taken a baseball bat from his room and held it up as if he was ready to swing it.

Willow and Buffy’s eyes bulged at the object in his hand as they peaked from your bedroom doorway. Buffy was pleased they had convinced you to come to self-defence class now.

He walked slowly to the door, meeting you in the hallway skipping happily past him. He grabbed you back looking at you as if you were mad. He was expecting debt collectors. Again.

“Spike, it’s the pizza guy” You moved your shoulder from him before carrying on back to the door with the dollars in your hand, “What is wrong with you?” you muttered.

He scowled, jaw tensing as Buffy and Willow giggled at the way he had been so tense and he stormed away smacking the edge of the bat against the wall in his frustration. Leaving a small hole there.

You brought the pizzas back into your room (so you didn’t have to face spike again) and shared them out with your friends.

After you finished your meal and managed to calm yourselves down from whatever had just happened, talk of course turned back to Spike.

“So how is it… y’know…” Willow asked before mouthing “with Spike”. You hadn’t realised how much built up rage you had inside until you launched into your conversation.

“Well, I can tell you that Hell really is a place on Earth”

“That bad?”

“I can’t believe I’m stuck with him – if I even breath in his direction he has a problem with it!”

“Yeah, he’s always been a complete pig. Some people are just born evil” Buffy shrugged.

“Buffy! He’s not evil! He’s just… mean spirited”

“In the most evil way” Buffy added. She had never liked Spike. He was cruel and treated her as if she was dumb just because she was in a sorority and enjoyed cheerleading.

What you and the two girls didn’t realise, was that Spike was eavesdropping. You had all been laughing really loud and he was about to take his chance to kick Buffy and her little loser friend out. Until he found he was interested to hear what you all had to say about him.

You groaned, thinking about the way things had been. You needed to vent. So, you took the chance while you were in the company of your now closest friends.

“He’s inconsiderate and rude and also I’m pretty sure he never washes his clothes... but he always smells good. Weird”

“Totally weird”

“Well, we did like, warn you”

“And oh my God! He walks around naked all the time! There’s always some stranger he’s brought home and they are always so loud! He never studies and the plates are always piled high in the kitchen! It’s disgusting – he’s disgusting!”

“He’s always been so arrogant and gross”

“Hey, don’t wig, next year we can find a place. The four of us – right Buffy?” Willow offered, including her girlfriend. She comforted you as you caught your breath from your outburst. Willow rested her hand on your shoulder to reassure you.

“Really?” You asked with a smile as Buffy nodded. She was going to move out from her sorority so she wasn’t distracted for her last year she had already decided.

“Don’t worry, y/n. We’ll keep you sane” Buffy insisted.

Spike scoffed. The way Buffy acted as if she was saving you from him. As if he was a fate worse than death. You angered him. The way you had determined his character over a few fleeting conversations. The gossip your silly little friends told you.

You became enemy number one. Even more so than you had been before. He hated gossip and the way people would laugh behind his back. You reminded him of this every time he looked at you now, not that you knew this.

The annoyance for the other just kept growing. Yours had originally been fuelled by your friends rumours, but his actions were now getting worse. Spike was seething at your dismissive tone against your character. He didn’t even want a roommate, he only agreed the landlord to put the room up so he didn’t put up the rent again.

So he decided to try and make you leave. Properly this time. He didn’t care anymore, you reminded him of everyone out there. Everyone that he hid himself away from. Distanced himself from.

The tension rose uncomfortably. He was more rude. More gross. And he made sure to do everything he knew that he could to annoy you. It was petty, he knew it, but he knew it would get a rise out of you.

One afternoon, you had been scraping off some congealed red liquid that you had been concerned was blood. He hung out with a weird crowd, you only hoped some poor thing hadn’t been exploded in there. Although, upon further inspection it appeared to be tomato soup. But you would probably embellish the story a little to your friends.

You washed your hands and scowled at him. He had moved to lean against the doorway and just watch you clean.

“God, Spike, you’re so lazy”

“’Scuse me?”

“You don’t clean, you don’t study – what exactly do you do with your life?”

He was affronted by this. By the way you spoke to him. How he felt like you acted like you were better than him. In your frustration you didn’t care what he thought. He just didn’t care. You were trying to live your life.

He could hear Buffy or even Angel’s voice through your own. The way they had always berated him.

“And what? I should be like you? You’re not exactly making a proper go of it are you? Haven’t seen you do much of anything ‘cept follow them brainless bints around the shop. When you’re not doing that you sit in your room as life passes you by, livin’ through your little Musical shows rather than living in the real world - You’re boring. You’ll live your pathetic little life, stuck in your lame little ways until you die”

“Spike-”

“You’re all the same! You and your preppy little band of misfits looking down your noses at everyone and yet you can’t see the obvious, can you? You’re so bored with your pathetic, frigid little lives that you have to make it my bloody problem!”

You decided, seeing as that’s how he viewed you that you would treat him exactly like that. Like he treated you. Things got worse.

He started to invite people over all the time. You would call it a party but there was nothing celebratory about it. You were confined to your room most of the time as they all laughed and screamed along to their music. They were always drinking and playing music no matter what time of the day you saw them.

You usually avoided them, locking your door, but you had needed to slip out of your room for a moment.

“Who’s this?” One of the guests pointed you out as you tried to make it to the bathroom without anybody noticing you. Now everyone’s eyes were on you.

“Oh don’t mind them, they’re just for show hasn’t had an original thought their entire life” Spike shrugged.

“Aw, no, Spike. Another mindless automaton” One of his friends spoke up and he laughed. It was a cold laugh, there was no humour in it.

“Do you, like, want to-”

“Don’t, love. They’re nobody” Spike stopped the blonde girl from speaking to you more kindly than the rest. They all laughed at this and began to tease you.

You left, slamming the door and you heard them laughing, jeering at you for your reaction. It made tears sting the back of your eyes. You collected yourself, shrugging on your jacket. You walked to a place you knew you would be welcome.

You knew that you weren’t going to get on. But this was getting out of hand. You hated him. Hated the way he treated you. The way he judged you, despite him knowing exactly how that feels.

As you thought this, he appeared to be thinking the same thing. Which made Spike scoff and frown. Was he really better than any of the people he hated? He shook that thought away. Downing his beer and looking for another rather than reflect.

You had called Buffy on your way over and she had been quick to contact the entire group to tell them there had been a major incident. Everyone piled around to her dorm room so that they could support you. You had sounded upset on the phone.

You explained everything that had happened and they all comforted you the best that they could. Xander then showed you the stack of films he had brought to try to cheer you up. He had even found some Musicals just for you.

Buffy explained that she had called Angel but he says he’s sorry but he’s busy right now. Buffy appeared disappointed and when you asked her about it she explained. They used to date when they were seniors in college but they had broken up despite still both having feelings for each other.

She explained it had seemed the right thing to do at the time, but now she wished they were back together. You insisted that you would make it your mission to help them get back together which made Buffy grin at you. She really did value your friendship.

As the night wore on your friends began to discuss the idea of you taking your revenge on Spike. It had made you laugh as they suggested ridiculous pranks and ideas that wouldn’t bother him at all. But then they began to take it more seriously. Insisting that you should get even.

You said you weren’t sure. And left it at that. But they thought you had better do something or he wouldn’t stop.

You eventually went back to a trashed house after staying for the weekend with Buffy. You stared at the mess. Maybe you would have to do something.

It had been unusually quiet the few days prior and you should have known better than to hope he had stopped. You had heard a girl, one of Spike’s partners that came around more than most (Harmony but her sex noises were nothing close to harmonious). She explained that if they were to have a threesome it would have to be boy-boy-girl. Apparently, neither of them had been able to swing Charlize Theron.

You had overheard this conversation over breakfast one morning on. A rare occasion they were both awake (they hadn’t gone to sleep yet). You had immediately spat out your food in disgust of their blunt discussion.

It had been perhaps in slight exaggeration but you felt like you were allowed. You were fine with people having sex and having fun but you really didn’t want to have to hear about it over your breakfast. They could have at least let you rub the sleep from your eyes first.

He had scoffed at you at the time and now he had set this up seemingly just to rub you up the wrong way. As opposed to the right ways he was rubbing his partners.

He tried to push the thought down that this had been solely planned because of you. With you in mind. To get a reaction from you. Because that would start him questioning his intentions. His actions. How you made him so angry it was now near obsessive.

So, it appeared they had finally agreed on the logistics of it. And were now giving you a live audio performance. On some random Thursday afternoon just as you had settled down to study.

You swore they were doing it on purpose. Being as loud as possible just to get a rise out of you.

You pounded on the door. You could smell sex from where you were stood out on the landing. He opened the door and stale cigarette smoke appeared to pour out of the room with him. He had opened the door almost immediately. As if he had been waiting.

“Spike!”

“Problem, pet?”

“I don’t care that you’re having sex, the walls are just so thin – I have an exam coming up can you just be quiet? Or go to one of your, uh, friends’ houses…”

“Mm, someone’s jealous”

“I’m not-”

“Just ‘cause you’re not bloody gettin’ any” He prodded before he thought about it a moment, changing tac, “Oh no. I know what this is… You want me, you need me…” He teased, knowing it would make you flustered.

“I just- I just want to-”

“If you wanted a taste all you had to do was ask” He smirked, moving his hips slightly and moving his head smugly along with his words. Drawing your attention to his naked form. The people in his bed were calling him back and you were just staring at each other. All he was wearing was a single silver chain around his neck. He was attractive, you couldn’t deny this and he knew it too. 

You were both furious at each other. Silently trying to gain the upper hand.

“You’re a pig, Spike!” You suddenly screamed, stepping towards him angrily. Which made him smile and just close the door in your face. That was what he had wanted. To get such a big emotional response from you.

You were so angry you threw one of your precious book at his now slammed shut door. He winced at the name you had used, one often used against him by people like Buffy. She even managed to get to him in his own home. You angered him. You angered him.

But he turned back and the noises started up again and you knew for sure that they were doing it on purpose now. It was getting louder and louder. He couldn’t be that fucking good, you were sure of it.

You ran into your room and rummaged through the stack of CDs you had brought with you, selecting the perfect accompaniment. The soundtrack from your favourite musical. You turned the volume up fully and let the entire score play out.

You never wanted to see his stupid smug face again.

[multiplesmutthings]

Cinder took Pyrrha from Jaune, now he'll take Emerald from Cinder. //mind break//

(With help from @vecnawrites! Thanks!)

Inside the room Jaune was standing there. Blake and yang tossing Emerald onto the ground tied up roughly. He then went over and sat her up before smacking her face a bit to wake the unconscious thief up. Emerald felt impact on her face and groaned, opening her eyes as her head throbbed, only to be met with an extremely unwelcome sight. "Oh, *wonderful*..." she groaned, seeing the pathetic blonde, the blonde bimbo, and the cowardly cat before her. "Where's little red? Is it past her bedtime?" she asked with a smirk despite the pain in her head.

“Shut-“ Jaune held his hand up at Yang who growled and wanted to punch Emerald but held herself back. “You two go, I’ll take care of interrogating her.” He said as the two glared at emerald and left them in the room alone.

"Really? The *weakest* of the Beacon students? Forgive me if I don't start shaking in my boots." Emerald sneered. Since the other two were gone, she could use her semblance, but bound as she was, what good would it do?

“Quiet. We can do this simple emerald. Just tell me what are Cinders plans and I can leave you alone Alright.” Jaune said trying to be the good cop for her.

Emerald couldn't help the laugh bubbling up and released it, despite the pain in her temple. "You...you *really* think something like *that* will get me to betray Cinder?!" she shook her head. "You poor, pitiful child."

“Oh be quiet I’m not that young.” He said glaring at the teen. “Look here, you and that witch took so much from everyone. So if you think either of you are going to go on Scott free your mistaken. So. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.” Jaune said a bit more threatening this time.

"Oh, no, the *hard* way, whatever shall I do?" Emerald bemoaned, giving Jaune a theatrical shiver, before her face set in a deadpan glare. "You don't have the *balls* to hurt anyone."

“Yeah May not hurt you. But I have other ways of making you talk.” He said as he went over and stared to undo his pants in front of her.

"Oh, really? What, is your pathetic baby cock supposed to scare me into giving up information?" Emerald snarled. Then as she said those words he let his pants fall as his 12 inch wrist thick member came out still semi half hard as it was in front of the illusionists face. Emerald's eyes widened and she swallowed, before she found her courage again. "Bah, so you have a big dick, I doubt it's ever been wet. After all," she chuckled coldly, "you spent all that time chasing Schnee at Beacon when anyone with a tenth of a brain could see your partner wanted to ride you dry!" Instead of speaking he grabbed the greenette head and smacked his cock against her face. Aura was around it if she even tried to bite and for now his cock laid on top of her face as it began to get hard. Emerald scrunched her face up in disgust. "Fuck, you pig! Don't you *wash*?" she demanded, moving back.

“Yeah I do.” Jaune said before tilting Emeralds head up and shoving his cock into her mouth and down her throat. Smirking as he saw her eyes widen and felt her try to bite down. “Aura is a very useful tool sometimes.” He said as he began to move her head while he saw her throat bulge from his size. Emerald gagged as her eyes burned and teared up, her tongue cloaked in the taste of salt and sweat. She tried forcing him out by biting, the only thing she succeeded in was jarring her teeth enough that she feared she would break them. Blackness creeped into the corners of her eyes as she ran out of oxygen. Jaune didn’t stop thrusting in until he paused and then pulled out his now spit covered cock and laid it on Emeralds face as he looked down at her. “Will you talk now?” He asked as his cock throbbed on top of the thief’s face.

Emerald coughed, spitting out a wad of thick saliva. "You...you think I will break...that easily, you asshole?" she growled through clenched teeth.

“No of course not.” Jaune then grabbed emerald and flipped her over so her ass was in the air, he then began to strip her naked and gave a quick hard smack to her glorious ass.

"Gah! Quit touching me, you bastard!" she struggled against the ropes binding her, although she couldn't do anything but flop as her clothes were torn off. Jaune rubbed both of Emeralds cheeks and spread them to see her cute puckered hole and pussy. Soon he laid his cock against them and began to rub it between her asscheeks. Emerald struggled. "Get away from my ass, you worthless prick!" she snarled, feeling the hard flesh switching between rubbing her pussy and her asshole. Honestly, with the blonde's size, either way would be painful.

“Your going to tell me about Cinders plans and I’ll stop.” He said continuing and groaning at the nice feeling. Panting as his balls lightly smacked against Emeralds pussy that was beginning to get wet.

"NEVER!" Emerald snarled, despite the thrill of fear that ran through her body. He wouldn't really do it, would he? He was a goody-goody! Jaune enjoyed a feeling a bit more before he pulled his hips back and lined it up with her ass and pushed it in. Groaning at how tight it was. Emerald groaned in pain as her ass was spread wide, her unlubed rear burning in agony as the bastard forced his way into her ass until his hips rested against her backside. Panting a bit Jaune then grabbed Emeralds breasts and began to fondle them before he started to thrust into her, moving back and fourth as he fucked Emeralds tight ass and felt it smack against his hips with each movement. Emerald could only release pained sounds of absolute rage as she was fucked and manhandled by the weakest loser of Beacon. He pulled emerald on his lap as he bounced her on his cock. Fucking her ass deeply as his thumbs rubbed against her nipples while he squeezed and fondled her breasts more. He even nipped and nibbled on her neck, leaving hickies and marks. "S-stop it, yoooouuuu....bassstarrrrddd!!!" Emerald groaned, feeling herself getting wet despite doing everything to prevent it.

Jaune was relentless. Quickly moving Emerald harder against him as he thrusted up groaning at the tight entrance. Soon enough he groaned and then came inside of Emerald. Slamming his hips against her ass a few more times as his warm cum filled the illusionist up. Emerald groaned as she felt a wet heat enter her ass, knowing that the blonde pervert just came in her ass. "Happy you actually got one off in a woman for once rather than your hand?" she managed to ask, although her voice was weak.

“Keep talking Em, unless you’ll tell me cinders plan. It’s gonna get worse.” Jaune said panting a bit before he grinned and then laid Emerald on her back before cutting the ribbon holding her legs together. Before she could kick or do anything he grabbed her by her ankles and kept them spread before he inserted his cock into her tight snatch.

"AHH!!" Emerald cried out. She had never had anything larger than her finger in there, so to be spread so wide, so suddenly...her eyes rolled back in her head as she grit her teeth to resist the pain of the sudden stretch and filling. Jaune let out a loud groan as he began to move his hips and thrusted deep into Emeralds pussy. Stretching it and hitting her deepest parts that were once untouched or ignored. He panted and looked down at Emeralds eyes seeing her red pupils roll up as he thrusted deeper in. Emerald fought to hold on to herself, as much as she despised admitting it, the blonde knew what he was doing as he pounded away at her insides. Jaune looked at the greenette and saw her clothes were still confining her beautiful exotic skin, he then tore it off and continue to rail into the thief’s pussy. Groaning he felt her pussy clench around his cock a bit more. Emerald groaned her toes curling as she tumbled into an unwanted orgasm, squeezing tightly around the tube of flesh within her. He moved her legs and stopped to get into the right position. Locking her thighs under his as he put his hands next to her head and he began to move again, fucking Emerald in a mating press with his cock going deep as he could thrust it. "Noooooo!!!" Emerald whined, the unwanted pleasure hitting her harder and harder as his tip slammed into her cervix. "Stooooppppp!!! I'm...gooooiiinnggg...tooo...glooo...crazyyyy!!!"

“That’s the plan... tell me cinders... plans!” He said as his cock was starting to enter through her cervix. Stretching it as well as his balls smacked against her cum filled asshole at the same time. Her feet bouncing in the air as he did so. Emerald knew she was close to breaking...she would be useless, little more than a cum dump. There was only one recourse to save herself and hopefully get back to Cinder. She talked.

As Jaune fucked her roughly, she began detailing everything she knew, which was quite a lot, up to the fact that they knew the general whereabouts of the Winter Maiden. She hoped Cinder would forgive her, but they could always augment the plans when she made her way back. Sadly, fate had other ideas. Jaune heard it all and then even got a scroll to record her words and when that was done he turned off the scroll and smirked as he kept on thrusting. The wet slaps of her pussy being fucked harder echoed through the room as her Pussy was soaking wet. “Good... to know you cooperated. But since Cinder... took someone from me. I’ll take someone from her.” Jaune said as his hips actually went faster and harder, his cock fully fucking her womb as it pounded against her walls and his hands grasped her bouncing breasts to squeeze and play with them as well. “Guess where I’m going to cum Emerald...”

"NOOOOOooooooo...." Emerald trailed off as she came the hardest she had since the start, blacking out and slumping to the floor as wet heat invaded her womb. After a few more thrusts Jaune saw Emerald had blacked out and got an idea. Taking his cock out of her for a bit he undid the ribbons as she was now free and completely naked. Getting behind her he raised one of her legs to raise them and pushed his cock back in and pushed in hard to wake her up as he continued to Fuck her womb while he sucked on one of her nipples. Even in her sleep, Emerald was responsive, her soaking pussy tightly squeezing Jaune's cock and moans spilling from her mouth freely. He panted and groaned a bit more after the last couple thrusts before Hilting his cock into Emerald fully and came. Shooting his massive load into her. Filling her womb up completely like the cumdumpster she has now become. Several hours later, Emerald came too, arms still bound and completely naked still, glancing she saw a naked Jaune before her. She smiled softly, and did what she knew she had to do, kneeled before him and took his member into her mouth, worshipping the hard flesh and looking up at her master in adoration.

“Good.. nngh... lets get those arms free.” He said as he then leaned over and undid her arm straps. Surprisingly he saw her suck his cock even more, seeing her do so made him groan as he leaned back. Sending the information to Ruby. He rubbed her head as he saw her breasts get moved to sandwich his member as she sucked on The tip of his cock. “How’s it taste Emerald~?”

Emerald looked up at the man she knew commanded her with awe and love. "~Wonderful, Master~" she cooed, capturing th le wide tip between her plump lips and suckling it, flicking her tongue over the slit, coaxing out his pre. He would let her worship his cock and suck it. Earning her share of pre cum as he smirked taking something from Cinder felt good, now he’ll be enjoying Emerald for a long time.

[toofaketobeplastic]

an ode to the (Black) geniuses of America

Do you know what the sunniest city in the world is? Yuma, fucking Arizona, homie. And i know that, for sure – as does the vast variety of Yale University motherfuckers i am acquainted with, everyone who’s been lucky for the past 22 years – because I was given found even in carceral America, something Holy, something Black, something about magic or calm in the midst of a curse – if you know Mo, you know more.

i am nothing without that basement in lawrance hall. nothing as sick as fuck at least, put every single acid trip on a reel. nothing neither without audre lorde, ma rainey, jimmy b’s here be dragons, introduced to me freshman fall by God’s mercy (and the gays)

who would i have been without it? gwen’s a kindness punk before it was ever cool, or seemed necessary: her smile welcomed me to America / didn’t ask me if Pakistan had roads, but always wanted to know if my mama was doing alright. every time i died, i waltzed to morse dining hall and so much of me hopes that the smiles i faked, exaggerated, performed in earnest, the tears i held back at times, the hurt i only shared with her, brought even a percentage of the light into gwen’s life that she, in that something Holy, something Black way, litters carelessly, constantly, democratically everywhere she goes.

the only two boys on Turtle Island who i left pieces of my heart with know who they are, half-Black, all Holy, at times confused but bite ‘em as much as u want America, you’ll never get em; behind Baldwin’s warning, a promise: here be angels.

no one dances in America like a Black femme does, no one fucked me in America with the kindness and the humanness i needed, everyone deserves, except a Black boy and no one pains, carries the burden of white people’s first world pathetic excuse for a life, like a Black body; i saw this with my own eyes, i saw the ICE truck at my border of Bedstuy and Bushwick i saw the young Black boy outside his high school, under a pig’s knee, with a whole crowd of loved ones gathered, not one able to save him, and he made the news too, but his Black life didn’t matter to white America who still bought their $5 capitalism juice from Starbucks loved their $900 lease in Brooklyn and the pigs who’d entertain their noise complaints.

my ode to the geniuses of America i witnessed was to leave, to let someone hear, anyone that the violence that makes America what it is is too harsh for me to bear,

and that there is another place i remember that i will always be your friend from, something to fly away from Amerikkka to, somewhere to come share your mind, and your heart, and your body in:

where it will be you and me, intertwined,

and only a memory of that other place – where everything cost too much and everything Black-owned wouldn’t last too long, co-opted by some California loser with borrowed guilt, stolen Blaccent, and superficial solidarity.

it is a dream i have, of you. 

[amintyworld]

Inconveniences - Sanders Sides Oneshot

A/N: This is for @an-agender-disaster 's Sanders Sides Fic Contest. Please go check them out, and if you like this fic go and give it a vote! Love all of you! -Minty

Summary: Roman sacrifices everything to save a stranger.

TW: Cursing, Bullying, Fighting, Blood, Pressure, Yelling, Caps, abuse of power

----------

Logan and Virgil were best friends. A fact that seemed unbelievable to the students of Sanders High. One was dark, mysterious, paranoid to flinch at a single touch. The other? A classical nerd who memorized more facts than a search engine.

The two outcasts were known throughout their grade for their so to say 'weirdness'. Virgil, though desperately trying to fit in, was a natural outcast. He was extremely awkward, especially in social interaction, a fact that the more popular students quickly took notice of. Logan was what Virgil called 'naturally smart'. The 16 year old could recite 150 digits of pi and the entire table of elements without breaking a sweat. It was no doubt the two would eventually found a friendship, a strong one at that.

They didn't have many friends, but...they had each other. And really, when bullying becomes a daily issue, a friend is all you need.

"So Specs," Virgil asked as they were walking through the hall toward their next class, "what was the probability again?"

Logan pushed his glasses that started to slide down his nose as he processed the question, remembering almost instantly. He smiled for the first time that week, facing his friend as he answered. "Of us meeting?" Virgil nodded. "That's nearly impossible odds, Virgil."

"Impossible odds…" Virgil breathed, listening to his friend rant about probability, and percentages. He sat down, sighing, closing his eyes briefly, just to relax. Virgil wouldn't admit it, but he loved just to sit and listen to his best friend explain any topic, there was some kind of comfort to it that Virgil couldn't explain.

For a small amount of time that day, Virgil wasn't nervous, or anxious. All the possibilities of what could go wrong stopped running through his mind. 

"Impossible...odds…"

He was just a regular high school student.

---------------

"GO ROMAN, GO, GO, GO, ROMAN!" Patton cheered from the sidelines. He was early for his cheer practice afterschool, so he figured he could fit in extra practice. He and Roman had been best friends since middle school, when Roman was the new kid, he'd recently moved from New York. Since then, they'd been practically inseparable.

Coach blew his whistle, and Roman ran back to the benches nearby, chugging water and running his hands through his sweaty hair. Coach gave him a stern look. "Take a break, Prince." Roman just nodded, catching his breath. Coach turned quickly, "Demenga! Sub for Prince! Come on, you pansies, on the field, NOW!"

Roman grabbed a second water bottle and sat down on the bleachers next to Patton. "Hey, you alright, Ro?" Patton asked. "You look… horrible."

"Well, despite what my father believes, I'm not made for football." Roman sighed. Patton gave him a sympathetic smile.

"You could always quit, I'm sure your father would-"

"You know what he'd say." Roman said. "Either UCLA, or nothing."

"I know," Patton said defeatedly. "I just hate to see you so... miserable."

"Well," Roman smiled. "Not completely miserable. I get to see you practice, at least. Who knew you had such a talent with pom-poms?"

Patton smiled. "I wouldn't have known if it weren't for you joining the team, Ro."

"Please Patton," Roman joked, smiling at his cheery friend. "You'd be a cheerleader anyway, it was only about making it official."

"You know me too well, Roman. How's Remus doing, by the way?"

"Absolutely loving his biochemistry classes," Roman said, wrinkling his nose at the thought. "...maybe a little TOO much." He shivered, wishing he could erase all the grotesque things Remus had sent him via text since the start of the year.

"But Roman, it's so cool! Look at it twitch!" Remus insisted when he shared a video of a rat dissection that nearly made Roman hurl.

He'd never admit it, but he wished he was the younger twin. Free to pursue anything he pleased, instead of having your entire life planned out for you from the first moment of your existence. God, how he craved to reprise his spark for Theater, one that his father tried so badly to put out completely, though Roman never truly lost the passion.

As he put it, it was in his blood.

Patton's parents, or parent, rather, were completely different from Roman's. Almost as full of sunshine as Patton himself, Mr. Foster was quite a role model for the young boy. 'Superdad' handled two jobs and three kids without breaking a sweat, and he was more than happy to let Roman into their close-knit family.

He showed Roman all of his kids' baby photos, smiling and cooing over how tiny baby Patton was, making Patton flush with embarrassment: "Daaaaaad!"

Patton, you could say, was the second parent of the family, cooking meals, helping with homework, keeping an eye on his younger siblings while maintaining a 3.5 GPA.

"I'm gonna go wash up, Dad will be here soon anyway, and he hates when I'm not exactly on time, you know." Roman said, grabbing his duffel and heading to the showers. "Be back in a few, Pat!"

------------------

"OH MY GOD, STOP IT!" Virgil screamed, trying to restrain the stronger teen as he easily slammed his best friend's face into the concrete wall. Richard turned, throwing Logan to the floor, his face busted and bleeding, his glasses snapped in half on the ground.

"What exactly are you going to do to stop me, Scaredy Cat?" Richard said, a smirk spreading across his lips.

"I...I'm...I'm gonna...I…"

Within seconds, his body was slammed on the concrete wall. He let out a scream of pain, Richard clamping his hand over Virgil's mouth quickly, nearly gagging him, Virgil struggling to breathe. "You're gonna do WHAT?" Richard said. "You are WEAK. You are POWERLESS. You...you're NOTHING, nothing but a wimpy dimpy Scaredy Cat." With that, he dropped Virgil onto the dirt, but he knew he wasn't going to get up.

He'd done his damage just right.

Tears fell from Virgil's eyes as the words cut him like a knife. He was right. He couldn't do anything, he couldn't even save his best friend. His hands gripped the dirt as tears fell, soaking the ground underneath him.

How absolutely PATHETIC was he?!

Richard laughed at the pain visible on their faces. "You two are nothing but a bunch of losers. Do you know what we do, with losers?" He couldn't help laughing as he asked. His father the mayor, Richard was power-hungry from the start. He ruled this school, this town, and no one, absolutely NO ONE, was going to say otherwise. 

As King, he had a duty to himself, and to everyone, to put these… these pigs, right in their place.

Virgil's heart nearly dropped. He knew what was coming next. Worse, he knew he couldn't fight back. He looked at Logan, who fell unconscious, bleeding. No one was around. No one ever was around when he did this.

"We… we kill losers."

Richard grabbed Virgil by the neck, Virgil no match for his size, lifting him off the ground, against the wall. He grinned, squeezing his neck. "Fat pig…" He breathed, sending chills down Virgil's spine. Virgil clenched his eyes tight, fearing he would cry if he opened them. He wouldn't give him the satisfaction. He didn't deserve to get what he wanted. He felt his hot breath on his face, his mouth getting closer. 

The world began to spin, almost getting darker. He started to choke in his grasp, gasping for air, for any breath. He didn't say a word, didn't fight back. He knew he'd just wind up back here, with his world dizzing, just like Richard wanted.

"Richard, what are you DOING?!"

Richard quickly dropped him, Virgil's world slowly coming back to focus, breathing heavily to get air back into his lungs.

"Ah, my old friend! I thought you had practice." Richard said, maybe a little too cheery.

"It's nearly over…" Roman trailed off, looking at the two students on the floor, then back to Richard. "What are you… you… you hurt them…"

Richard set a hardened glare on Roman. "It would be in your best interests, Roman, to not get in the way of the King." He smirked. "I'm sure your father would love to know all about your movie stash."

Roman's eyes widened. "How did you know about-!?"

His movies, hidden underneath his bed - the only thing left of the old days. Days when there wasn't a legacy, there wasn't football. When his father didn't care what he did, and… he was, well, happy. Happy to just have Roman.

Before, well… Roman went to high school.

"I have my ways. Now, back off, Prince. Let your King do his work."

Roman gulped, hesitating. He knew Richard picked on them, but this was too far. He made up his mind quickly, silently saying goodbye to all his DVDs. He raised his fists, getting into a defensive position almost instantly. "I...I won't let you hurt them."

Richard sighed. "Shame you had to turn on your people, Roman. You better believe that now, you're just like them. You're a weirdo, an outcast."

"You have no right to just go around saying whatever you want-"

Richard's face turned bright red with anger. "I OWN YOU."

Silence fell. Roman slowly walked over. Richard looked to him, something indescribable in his eyes. "You don't own me. At least, not anymore."

Roman stepped back as the sting of sliced flesh zipped through his body. He looked down, and there, clear as day, was a thin, bloodred line that ripped his football practice shirt straight across the middle. He knew what was going to happen when he got home, but at this point - Roman didn't care. His instincts from New York kicked in as he tackled Richard to the ground, holding the hand clutching the knife firmly behind his back. "Drop it." He growled, and the small pocket knife fell to the ground with a small clink. 

Roman kicked it a good ten feet away before dragging Richard up from the ground, leaning close to his ear, making sure the next words out of his mouth stuck. "Don't you DARE even so much as think about hurting another person, or I won't be so nice next time." He growled angrily. He let the boy go, pushing him away, and Richard looked back for a moment, mostly in shock, before seemingly shoving his hands in his pockets and trudging toward the road. 

Roman sighed, the adrenaline wearing off, realizing what he'd done. His father will kill him, disown him, if he isn't expelled from school first and kicked from the team.

But you know what? Roman thought, rushing back to find Patton (who was a certified first aid), Eff it.

[deyadee]

The Hotline/The Chat

I’ve never called that hotline before. I always come so close but just crumple and stop myself. I’ve used the chat multiple times, but I’ve been using it less recently.

I’m pretty sure if whoever is reading this, you know what hotline I mean. I’m at the bottom of the pit and I can’t see anyway out but to log out completely. I’m so terrified to actually use it. I always talk myself out of it because I just drown in guilt and further hatred.

“You shouldn’t call. This happens every other week and you’re too much of a pussy to do it anyway. You’ll just waste their time and prevent someone who actually needs it from using it.”

“They’ll be too busy to answer, other people need it more than you. Selfish tramp.”

“Oh yeah, go ahead and call them! They’ll just encourage you to do it. If they tell you not to, then they just don’t know how revolting of a human you actually are. Show them your man voice and complain about your first-world problems you cunt.”

“They won’t fix your problem, y’know. You’ll still be worthy of a gruesome death, and they’ll just stall it for a bit longer.”

I always hate the idea of someone pretending to care about me. I keep thinking they won’t help, or they’ll make it worse, or that I’m an even worse person for taking time from people who need it more. I don’t deserve sympathy.

I use the chat only when I’m at my absolute lowest point, but I’m too hysterical to just mope around in bed and suffer. I haven’t used it in a while because I haven’t gotten quite to that level any time recently, and I’m just terrified this one person will answer me- not to mention it seems the chat never loads or puts me in the line nowadays.

I’ve been on there three times if you only include the times when I actually got to text with someone. The first and third experiences were positive, I can’t thank those naive people enough for saving me- a fat pig like me doesn’t deserve an act this kind. Though the second experience still haunts me.

It’s pretty pathetic, but I was explaining to this woman about how much of a failure I was, how much I disappoint and hurt everyone around me, how I always make myself a victim when I’m just a bitch… she seemed so lost from the conversation. I could feel her impatience and annoyance through her texts. Constantly just telling me “Just go outside.” “Just go outside.” “Maybe you’d feel better if you went outside more often.” “Just take a walk and calm down.” “I don’t know how to deal with that, maybe you’ll feel better if you go outside.”

I am literally not joking. I’m pouring my heart out like I do twice a day on here, and she just keeps giving the equivalent of “Touch grass loser.” Wow thanks bitch! Thanks for curing my depression and self loathing, all I needed was just some fresh air Huh? I truly am I stupid fucking fag. No refuting my self-hatred. No asking me to further elaborate on my problems. No comforting or any fucking compassion. I don’t know if she was just having a bad day or she legitimately had no fucking clue what she was getting into but I hope that bitch is not still on the staff. I’m partially happy I ended up with this bitch, because that means I took a spot for someone in an even worse mental state to end up harming themselves or even worse because of how fucking heartless she was.

Since then I’ve been terrified to go on there much of the time even when I get in even worse ruts than when I previously chatted because I’m scared I’ll see an even worse experience. I know I’ll get someone who convinces me to finally pull the trigger or take the plunge. I want to find a reason to live but I know I’ll never find one- so I just have to try for as long as I can to stay aloft.

[robininthelabyrinth]

LOT fic: Mick's World

Fic: Mick's World (AO3 Link) Fandom: Legends of Tomorrow, Flash Pairing: mostly gen (Mick Rory/Leonard Snart main, Barry Allen/Leonard Snart but only if you really squint)

Summary: When Leonard Snart gets a hold of the Spear of Destiny, he doesn't turn it over to the Legion of Doom to do with as they wish.

He's a thief. He steals it for himself - and for his partner - instead.

It's Mick Rory's world now, and you're all just living in it.

(rewrite of Doomworld)

A/N: I wrote this in a fit of inspiration in the space of about an hour, so...please forgive the mistakes. They may be more than usual. @oneiriad, who needs to stop giving me all these fic ideas.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Len's humming to himself as he enters the warehouse where he stashed the guns and the diamond for the time being. His contact was as good as his word - he has a reliable location for Mick and a message out for delivery.

He has no doubt Mick will meet him at the crappy Keystone motel, despite the months since they last saw each other. They've always come back together, always, no matter the reason for the split.

They just need some time to cool off, that's all.

Len smirks at the pun.

Just as he walks in, though, he sees a crackle of lightning. Red lightning, not yellow, but no one's ever been able to fault Len's knee-jerk instincts.

He flips on the gun, aims, and shoots in one move.

He catches the speedster from the waist down.

It's definitely not the kid he saw earlier - an older man, about Len's age, blond. Looks like Len just gave him an unpleasant surprise.

There's laughter from the side of the room.

Len spins and aims the gun at the man who is stepping out of the darkness. White-haired, older, evil smirk.

Damien Darkh. Len's heard of him.

"It's good to see the stories I've heard about you aren't exaggerated," Darkh says. "Well done, Merlyn."

"I told you," Merlyn says smugly, stepping out from the other side.

"Didn't know I deserved this type of ambush," Len drawls. He's heard of Malcolm Merlyn, too, though he doesn't think he's ever heard of him working with Darkh.

"Nothing yet," Darkh says. "You see, we're more interested in your future exploits."

"I'm not in the market for a job."

"Not yet," Merlyn says. "But you end up taking one, and it kills you."

Len arches his eyebrows. Oh, that explains it.

They're all stark raving nuts.

"Speedsters can travel in time, Mr. Snart," the speedster says. He's still kicking frost off his feet. "As can time travelers. Two years from now, you sign up with one of the latter, along with your partner, Mick Rory. They lead you into a trap and convince you to sacrifice yourself."

"Doesn't sound like my speed," Len says, smirking at the speedster, who makes a pained face.

"I'm going to enjoy working with you," Darkh comments, also looking at the speedsters face.

"I didn't say I'd sign up."

"You get to prevent your future death at their hands," Merlyn says.

"Now that you've told me, I can do that on my own," Len points out.

"Yes," the speester says. "But then you won't be able to save your partner from their clutches, which is where he is - right now."

That gives Len pause. Mick's not a leader and he hates being alone - he wouldn't put it past a bunch of do-gooders to manipulate the fact of Len's death to fuck with Mick's perceptions, make him little better than the grunt that do-gooders always assume him to be.

"Fine," Len says. "Let's say I'm listening."

They know agreement when they hear it.

"First," Darkh says. "Let me tell you a little bit about the Legends, as they call themselves..."

--

Len doesn't like what he sees.

He doesn't like it at all.

He insists the Legion – Legion of Doom, what a ridiculous name; this Nate fellow is clearly no Cisco – show him some of their encounters with the Legends, but all he can see is Mick.

Mick, beaten down, drunk on a job – Mick is never drunk on a job – and listless.

Mick, being insulted and belittled by his crew.

“He won’t come with you straight away,” Thawne tells him. “You’ll have to be a bit more subtle.”

“I know how to handle my partner,” Len says coldly, and goes.

It’s easy enough to lure Mick out.

“My, my, my, how the mighty have fallen,” he drawls. He hopes to see the familiar phrase – one they bounce back and forth between them when they meet up again by surprise – spark some recognition, some life, in Mick’s eyes, but no. Nothing.

“You said that the last time you appeared,” Mick tells him.

Len has a moment of worry that this isn’t the first time the Legion has picked him up, but he puts it aside. His priority right now has to be Mick.

“I’m kind of in the middle of something,” Mick continues.

“Yeah, in the middle of being treated like a good little doggie to those insufferable wannabes.”

Mick ignores him.

Mick ignores him.

Mick never ignores Len.

“Stay on mission now,” he mumbles to himself. “Gotta find this hobbit guy.”

“JRR Tolkien?” Len asks, blinking. He knew Tolkien was a WWI vet, but that seems like a bizarre mission even for the Legends, which seem to collectively have the mental capacity of gnats. Discounting Mick, of course; Mick wasn’t contributing. “Why? Hoping for an autograph?”

“I don’t even know who that guy is,” Mick blatantly lies.

Len gives him a look. There’s no way Mick forgot the epic marathon they did of the LOTR movies, much less the epic, epic marathon of all the Hobbit and LOTR movies. They’d both had wobbly knees after that just from sitting so long.

Why the hell is Mick playing the fool to Len?

Mick flushes a bit. “All I know is I gotta find this hobbit guy who knows the guy who's buried with Jesus' blood. Then we can destroy the Spear of Destiny.”

Oh. Well, that makes slightly more sense.

Not, you know, as much as going to talk to Tolkien in his nice, quiet university post twenty years in the future and then coming to a non-wartime period to pick it up, or even to go back to the middle ages where it was presumably buried, or anything like that.

As Len said: gnats.

“Mick, Mick, Mick,” he drawls. “When have we ever destroyed anything we’ve ever stolen?”

This time it’s Mick who gives Len the look.

Len grins. He’d put that out there deliberately as an error; he’s partners with Mick Rory. They destroy their scores plenty of times. Better ash than in a pig’s hand, after all.

“This is the most valuable score in the universe!” he continues. According to Thawne, anyway; this spear supposedly rewrote reality. Now that was value. “What have they done to you?”

He means it. Mick looks so lost, so sad, so tired.

For a second there, it looks like he’s getting through – but then Mick’s comm buzzes. “Steal us an ambulance, will you?” a woman’s voice orders.

“On it,” Mick grunts.

“Mick,” Len says. “What happened? What happened to the man who never took orders from anyone?” He pauses long enough for the except me to be heard, though not said. That's different. Mick agreed to that up front, and Len's done his best never to let him down because of it, though he sometimes screws up. “I respected the hell out of that guy.”

Mick flinches.

“Mick,” Len says again. “They’re treating you like a trained pet. Sit, Mick. Fetch, Mick. Good boy, Mick.” He barks at the end to emphasize it.

“I’m no one’s pet,” Mick growls.

“They don’t trust you,” Len shoots back. He’s seen them, the Legends. He’s seen how they treat Mick. “They may act all friendly to you, but they'll never trust you, never. When the chips are down, they'll look at you the same way they always have: as a thug.”

Mick flinches again. That barb struck home – Len can only imagine what they’ve done that made him act that way.

“You and me?” Len presses. “We're partners. I trust you. I respect you.”

“You’re dead,” Mick whispers.

“Take the Spear of Destiny, Mick,” Len urges him. “Use it for us.”

“There is no us,” Mick says, voice stronger. “You’re dead.”

“I don’t have to be!” Len exclaims. That’s the whole point of this stupid time travel nonsense, isn’t it? “With the spear, it’d be so easy to bring me back.” They could fix history so that they’re right back where they ought to be. Len won’t be a figment from the past, he’ll be real. It’ll be his future again, wide and open, instead of doomed to end in death.

Suckered by a hero. Fool to the last.

No, sir. Not Leonard Snart.

“You’re in my head,” Mick says stubbornly. “You’re an illumination.”

Len frowns. Mick thinks he’s… “A hallucination?”

“That’s it.”

Len feels the rage boil inside of him. Mick’s been hallucinating him, real enough for him not to be able to tell the difference. And the Legends have done nothing.

He punches Mick in the cheek. Not that hard – hard enough to bruise, but still pulling most of his strength. “Did that feel like a hallucination?” he snarls.

“I need to go,” Mick says, and backs off.

Len punches the side of the tent – it’s not as satisfying as wood, but does less damage to his hand – and returns to the Legion.

“Do you know what they’re up to?” Darkh asks. His eyes are avid. Greedy.

Lewis’ eyes looked like that.

“Yeah,” Len says, making a snap decision, the same sort he made when he decided to go up against the Streak one on one instead of backing off the diamond or finding a quiet way to pick it up. “Yeah, I know what they’re up to.”

It’s not until later, though, when he finds them in the church, Mick as listless as ever, that the decision becomes finalized.

��Pretty pathetic if you ask me,” he drawls. He’s never liked churches. His father dragged him to a few of them, unwilling to let his son follow his Jewish mother and only solidifying Len’s decision to reject Christianity. Ironic that he’s chasing a Christian trophy now.

“Mr. Snart?” the guy he’s been told is Rip Hunter says.

“You can see him,” Mick breathes.

Len’s heart hurts. Mick didn’t believe he was real, really didn’t, not until this moment. He can see it in Mick’s eyes.

“You’re supposed to be dead,” Hunter continues.

“Yeah, they told me all about how I get soft and die for you losers. I didn't believe them,” Len says.

He had, of course, once they’d shown him evidence. But it sets up –

“Believe who?”

- the perfect entrance line.

“Well, if that’s not an entrance line, I don’t know what is,” Darkh says.

Len sighs. Hanging a lampshade on it just ruins the whole effect, in his view.

“The Legion must have traveled back in time and picked up Mr. Snart before he joined the Legends,” Hunter says.

“He told us all about your plan on how you're going to destroy the spear,” Darkh says.

“Thanks for the tip, Mick,” Len adds. He says it more to see what’ll happen than anything else – whether the Legends will live down to his worst fears, or if there’s some glimmer of real comradery there.

But no.

They turn glares on Mick, blaming him already, and Mick stiffens up, expecting a verbal attack, saying “I didn’t think he was real” as if he can ward off future pain.

Oh, the Legends are going to pay for what they’ve done to his partner.

But in the ensuing fight, Len realizes – “You actually care about these losers!” he exclaims, staring at Mick.

Mick looks torn, but he turns and follows them instead.

Them, not Len.

“I guarantee they don’t care about you, Mick!” Len calls after him, letting him go. “They wouldn’t treat you this way if they did!”

Mick’s gone.

“Your plan working yet, Snart?” Thawne asks snidely.

Len turns on him. “Oh, it’s working,” he says. He’s really done with Thawne’s shit, and he’s barely known him more than a few days. “Don’t you worry. How about your little Merlyn’s job, huh? He living up to his end of things?”

“Of course he is,” Thawne sniffs.

“You’re the time traveler,” Len says. “Go find out.”

“He’ll meet us back in the Vanishing Point –”

“Sure he will,” Len drawls. “Because a time ship and a mystical book of spells would never result in a double cross. The Legions can always leave this time period and go to another one to find what they need, you moron.”

Thawne purses his lips. “Fine,” he says shortly. “I’ll go check in on him.”

“Bring a copy of the relevant few pages, will you?” Len says. “It’ll gives us a lead to where the Legends are going.”

He goes and returns within an hour.

“He’s found the Kalabros,” he reports smugly. “The word of god himself.”

“Owner’s manual for the Spear of Destiny," Darkh says, practically cackling.

“Does it have a map on it?” Len asks, letting all of his unimpressed disdain into his voice.

Thawne rolls his eyes and shoves the pages into Len’s hands. "I quick-copied them myself," he says.

Len looks at the pages. “No man’s land,” he says, recognizing it, and hands it back. “Let’s go get ‘em.”

Thawne flashes it out of his hands. “Wouldn’t want you looking too long and getting ideas about translating it,” he laughs.

Len rolls his eyes and hides a smile.

Joke’s on him.

Len’s got an eidetic memory.

More than that, though: he’s got a working knowledge of Hebrew, learned purely to spite his father, and Hebrew’s the language written right alongside the Aramaic in the book.

Written Hebrew hasn’t changed, not really, in at least two thousand years.

Len smiles.

They wait for the Legends to make their move – a ceasefire, really? – and Len and Darkh go to stop them.

“Hand over the spear or we kill you,” Darkh says. His eyes are glowing; he means it.

Len’s made them promise not to kill Mick, but right now? Right now Darkh would kill them all.

But Mick is the one holding the spear.

“Mick,” Len says.

Sara reaches for it.

Mick moves it away.

Yes.

“Hey, man,” Nate says. “We’re your friends.”

“I don’t have friends,” Mick says, accepting it at last.

“But he does have partners,” Len says with satisfaction. They’re friends, too, but friends has always been secondary. They’re partners: they’ll have each other’s backs, even when they hate each other. That’s what it means. “So what do you say? Partner?”

“Mick, you’re better than this,” Sara says. Her eyes are all wide and pleading, like a few last minute words can make up for months of neglect – and that’s just what the Legion has shown Len.

“No, actually,” Len drawls, “you’re not. They may pretend to believe in you as long as they can use you, but they'll just as soon let you die.” Len pauses, still bitter. “Same as they did me.”

They lead Len to the slaughter so he would die for them. They’ll do the same for Mick in a heartbeat.

Len’s not going to let that happen.

“He’s messing with your head, man,” one of them says.

“Ever since I've been on that ship, you people have been trying to change me,” Mick growls.

“That's not true, Mick.”

“Guess what?” he continues, ignoring her. “There are things about me I wanna change too.”

Sara’s eyes go cold. “Steel up, Nate,” she orders. “Stop him.”

“He does, you and animal chick die, but we still keep the spear,” Darkh says.

“And we’re gonna make all kinds of fun changes,” Len says with satisfaction. He’s got some in mind already.

“You bastard,” Amaya tells Mick.

Mick hesitates. “Come with me,” he offers her. Len arches his eyebrow. Maybe she was nicer than the others. Or maybe - oh, fine. If Mick really cares about them all that much, Len won't take brutal revenge on them, no matter how much he wants to. “The spear can help us fix your messed up future and my past.”

“Never,” she says, and Len can tell from how her face twists that she’s disdaining Mick now, for his choices.

Mick goes over to Len. By Len’s side, where he belongs.

“if you think we’re gonna let you walk out of here –” one of the Legends starts.

Len doesn’t care which one. He’s only got eyes for his partner. By his side again. “You’re right,” he says, putting his gun away. “We could use a distraction.” He pulls a grenade. “I hereby declare the armistice – over.”

He throws it.

Within minutes, there’s gunfire everywhere.

“Oh that’s just great,” Mick grumbles. “Now we’re all gonna die.”

“Mick, have I ever pulled a heist without a getaway plan?”

And then Thawne is there.

Len can see him coming, the blur of lightning on the hill.

“Get Darkh first,” Len yells to him. “Get him back to the ship!”

It makes literally zero sense to do that, of course, but as Len suspects, Thawne is moving too fast to use his critical thinking skills at the same time. Len’s on his side, Len’s proven himself, Len can be listened to, so he does it, spiriting Darkh away first.

“I wish it could’ve been different, Sara,” Mick is saying to her, his face wistful.

“I don’t,” Len says, striding towards Mick and grabbing the spear so that they’re both holding it. He puts his other hand on Mick’s arm. “And right now, it’s my wishes that matter.”

And he says the words that he saw on those pages, the Kalabros, the Word of God – owner’s manual to the Spear of Destiny – and the spear glows in response, brighter and brighter.

Thawne gets back to ‘rescue’ Len and Mick only in time to shout “No!” but it’s too late –

The Legends are running towards them, but they’re too late –

Time itself is spinning around them, the battlefield twisting in time, twisting, twisting –

Gone.

--

Central City.

They’re in the kitchen, of course.

Mick blinks.

“We’re in the kitchen,” he observes.

“I thought you’d want a beer,” Len replies. He goes to put the spear away. It’s still shining a bit, but it looks satisfied. A bit like a cat with the canary – or a man right after a really good orgasm –

Len hears the sound of Mick pulling open the gargantuan fridge while he pulls open the pantry and walks inside.

That’s a lot of food. He’s impressed with himself. The pantry, of course, leads to a secret door, and the pneumatic tube system next to the dumbwaiter. Len had seen them once and thought it was pretty cool. This version had a place for the spear to fit in.

Best of all, since it was a tube system, if he thought someone was about to find the spear, he could press a button and it’d go shooting along the tube system to the next stopping point. A moving target is the hardest type of target – which is of course why Len goes after them so often.

He slides the spear into place. “Don’t get too satisfied,” he tells it. “I’m probably going to need the rest of what I asked you for, so just hold it in reserve, yeah?”

The spear glows softly, almost like it’s confirming.

Len is pleased.

He goes back out of the pantry.

“You stocked the fridge with my favorite beer,” Mick says. He’s got one in front of him, open, and the makings of his favorite sandwich, but he’s not moving to make that sandwich. His eyes are glassy.

“Of course I did,” Len says. “Now eat up. We’re going to rob Central City National later.”

“We are?” Mick looks around the well-stocked kitchen as if seeing it for the first time.

There are four ovens, a full stove, two fridges and counterspace nearly everywhere. Overkill, in Len’s mind.

“This is my kitchen,” Mick whispers.

Len goes to him. “Yeah,” he says. The kitchen Mick rambles on about when he’s drunk, the one he always said he’d have someone build him if he ever got that one perfect score, the score of a life time. Every last detail that Len committed to memory, from the brand of the oven to the color of the marble countertops. “It’s your kitchen, Mick. I told you the Spear was the score of a lifetime.”

“You always have to be right,” Mick says. Both of them pretend to not notice him scrubbing his face. “We’re going to go do a job? Now?”

“It’ll make you feel better,” Len says. It always has. Mick’s not as much of an adrenaline junkie as Len, but damn if he doesn’t love it when they break the law. “And CC Nat is like taking candy from a baby.”

He pauses. “Well, usually. Did I ever get to tell you about this speedster fellow…?”

Mick snorts. “Yeah,” he says. “Oh, boy, did you. Guess they picked you up between you fighting him the first time and you giving me the heat gun, huh?”

“Yeah,” Len says.

“There was less than four hours in between the two,” Mick observes.

Len blushes for his older self’s eagerness. Sounds like him. “Yeah, yeah,” he says gruffly. “Speedsters; what can you do? Did I have a plan to figure out his identity yet?”

“You figured it out,” Mick confirms, then laughs when Len wrinkles his nose. His future self got to have all the fun! “And I know it now, too. We teamed up to fight the aliens.”

“Aliens?!” Len yelps. “What the hell did I miss?!”

Mick just starts laughing. It’s a good while before he stops.

Len just gives it up for a lost cause and gingerly wraps his arms around Mick. He never does this in public, of course, but they’re in their own damn house.

Mick buries his face into Len’s shoulder and just sobs for a bit.

Len doesn’t say anything. It’s better that way; that way they can both pretend this didn’t happen, later. That it hasn’t happened many times before.

“So,” Len says, when Mick’s finally stopped shaking. “Bank? And then dinner?”

“Dinner first,” Mick says. “I know you. We’ll get back, you’ll be high on adrenaline, and you’ll want nothing but pizza, and because we’re lying low, that means I gotta make it for you.”

Len shrugs. It’s a system! It works!

“Greens first.”

“Creamed spinach?” Len suggests hopefully.

Mick gives him a look. “Some things never change,” he grumbles, but the way his eyes crinkle up shows he doesn’t mean it. “And you’re getting sautéed spinach. With lots of garlic, so don’t start whining.��

“I’m the master of this city,” Len sniffs. “I will whine if I want to.”

The spinach is good. He doesn’t understand it. Must be the garlic.

Also, the Legion had shitty taste in take-out.

Len’s about halfway through when Mick yowls.

He’s up and out of his chair and down the hall before he can think twice, gun up and ready, only to find Mick…standing in the hallway?

“What is it?” Len asks, eyes darting from side to side.

“I – uh – I…”

“You good?”

“Yeah,” Mick says, shaking his head. “I’m good. I just – I thought I saw a – and this sounds crazy, I know – but I thought I saw a ninja?”

“Oh,” Len says. “That. Yes. I got you some.”

Mick blinks. “You…what?”

“Ninjas,” Len says. “You still like them, right?”

“Uh…yeah?”

“Good. I got you your own loyal-to-the-death squad of ninjas.” Len shrugs when Mick gapes at him. “They double as housecleaners?”

“Are you nuts?”

“I had the ability to change reality,” Len says. “So maybe I played around a bit.”

“You got me ninjas?”

“Ninja henchmen,” Len confirms.

“Ninja henchmen?”

“We’re supervillains, aren’t we?” Len says, shrugging. “You and me.”

“I just thought we’d go back to the way we were,” Mick says faintly.

“I’m working on that part,” Len assures him. “The spear said that too many memories all at once would be disruptive, so it’ll seep in over the next day or so.”

Mick frowns at him. “Memories?”

“You’ve had a lot of experiences without me,” Len points out. “I gave you the heat gun, we teamed up again, all that stuff. Hardly fair if you remember it and I don’t. So I asked for those memories – the next two years – back.”

Mick swallows hard.

“I know I’m not the Len you lost,” Len says gently. “But give me a few days, and I’ll be him again.” He wrinkles his nose. “Though hopefully I’ll keep enough of my mind not to let a group of heroes convince me to kill myself for them.”

“You didn’t,” Mick whispers.

Now it’s Len’s turn to blink. “What?”

“You didn’t,” Mick swallows. He reaches for his chest and pulls out a chain, with a ring. Len’s ring, the old one from their very first job together. “You didn’t kill yourself for them. You killed yourself because I was going to do it, and you wouldn’t let me.”

Len considers this face. “Oh,” he says after a few long moments. “Well, that makes a lot more sense.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Mick says wretchedly. “I hurt you – you hurt me – we were fighting –”

“You’re my partner,” Len says, because it really is that simple, in the end.

Mick has to swallow a few more times and rub some more at his eyes. “Okay,” he says after a while, his voice harsh. “Let’s – let’s go rob a bank.”

They go out.

“Leonard Itzhak Snart,” Mick says flatly. “What the fuck is that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Len says. He aims for innocent. It doesn’t work. Mick has pulled out the full name.

“What. Is. That?”

“Are you referring to the new low-cost housing units I installed all through the slumzones?” Len asks, blinking innocently. They’re called the ‘Fire & Ice Projects’, and they’re legally protected from being demolished for condos or rent rises, at least for the next few years.

“No, you idiot,” Mick growls. “I’m referring to the fucking supervillain lair you decided we live in!”

Len turns and beams at their house. It’s awesome.

“It’s a goddamn castle!” Mick howls.

“Please. It has laser defenses.”

“It has a moat! With sharks!”

“You’re the one who wanted to leave his life savings to an endangered shark sanctuary!”

“Sharks!”

“I didn’t put lasers on their heads,” Len says. “This is restraint on my part.”

“How the hell doesn’t the Flash just come and pick us up here?” Mick asks, shaking his head.

“It’s an embassy,” Len replies promptly.

Mick buries his face in his hands. “It’s an embassy,” he says hollowly. It’s okay. Len knows that tone. It means Mick’s about to fall over laughing.

“Well, the Legion did pick me up from history and enable me to steal the spear from them,” Len says with a shrug. “They should’ve known better than to trust a thief.”

“I can’t believe you,” Mick says. “What did you do with them?”

“Well, Thawne wanted to be famous and respected and not dead – he was being hunted by something called the Black Flash – and Darkh wanted to be in charge of a city or country, as did Merlyn, and they all wanted their families back – so I gave them their own country. As co-rulers.”

“Co-rulers,” Mick says, his voice marginally squeaky. “Them.”

“Yeah, I’m not seeing it go well,” Len says, smirking. “I did give ‘em their families back, though. Least I could do, since I took their magic and speed away.”

“Co-rulers,” Mick repeats, and shakes his head. “Where did you put them? Australia?”

“No, I like Australia,” Len says. “I gave ‘em the Great and Independent State of Texas.”

That’s the straw that breaks the camel’s back.

Mick needs to sit down, he’s laughing so hard.

Len grins.

--

Robbing the bank is fun.

Central City First National Bank – CC Nat, to those in its immediate vicinity – is a long-standing favorite target of Len’s, mostly because its security is never updated and its depositors never learn. It’s practically an invitation to get your money paid back by the FDIC.

It’s a lot more fun when he has the Streak to contend with.

“Since when does the Streak have a sidekick?” he asks Mick.

“Flash,” Mick corrects. “He hasn’t been called the Streak – well, since your time.”

Len gets a vague flash of memory. “We put him on TV?” he asks.

“That’s right,” Mick says, smiling. “Sidekick’s Kid Flash, I think.”

“Excellent,” Len says, and charges up his gun. “You know the plan?”

Mick grins. “I know the plan.”

The plan goes pretty well – they manage to get away with about a quarter of the intended take, which Len is counting as a victory. The Flash is a tough enemy.

“That went well,” he tells Mick.

“It did,” Mick says, bouncing a little on his feet with adrenaline as they drive into the lair. “That was fun. I haven’t had fun since…well, it’s been a while. You know there’s a statute of me in Washington DC?”

“No, really?”

“Saved Washington’s life.”

“Nice,” Len says. “Do I get to remember that?”

“No, you were gone,” Mick says, but the pain in his eyes every time he mentions it is already fading. “But I’ll tell you all about it.”

“You’d better.”

There’s a flash of lightning – yellow, not red – and suddenly the Flash is standing there in their living room.

Mick starts to reach for his gun, but Len catches his arm. “Relax,” he says.

“What’re you up to, boss?” Mick asks.

“Just a little twist,” Len says proudly.

“Not much of one,” Barry says, pushing his cowl back. He grins at them. “Apparently, superhero versus supervillain fights are legal now, even if the actual thieving you guys do isn’t. Thanks for that. Makes my life easier.”

Len arches his eyebrows. “I don’t remember specifying us being friends,” he drawls. His instructions had been slightly more ‘favored pet nemesis’, really…

“Speedster,” Barry says. “I keep my memories pretty well. Cisco, too, thanks to his Vibe powers. We became friends, you know.”

“You’re kidding.”

“…exaggerating a bit,” Barry concedes. “But we worked together sometimes! Or, well, Mick and I did!”

Mick nods.

“So, I mean, my fake memories mostly say that after battles I come here and we hang out and critique each other,” Barry says, beaming. “Which even though I know they’re fake sounds pretty good to me. Did you actually put a huge amount of low-income housing in the slums?”

“You ought to see what I did to the politicians,” Len says, a little proudly.

“I’m more impressed by the fact that all the Families defer to you now,” Barry says. He is Barry, now that Len thinks about it; he doesn’t remember getting the memory of learning the kid’s name back, but it’s coming back. They definitely knew each other.

“The Families?” Mick asks.

“I may have named myself the Godfather of Central City,” Len confesses.

Mick snorts. “I’m not surprised,” he says.

“Really?”

“You did it last time, too.”

“I look forward to remembering that…”

Barry looks between the two of them and shakes his head. “Let’s postpone the hang-out till tomorrow, huh?” he says with a smile. “You two need to catch up. Though you probably want to talk to the Legends first.”

Mick’s back straightens. “The Legends,” he says cautiously.

“They’re still rebuilding their ship,” Barry says.

Mick turns to Len.

“I would’ve punished ‘em,” Len says. “For treating you that way. But you seemed to really care about ‘em, so I left ‘em be.” He thinks. “I did steal a bit of their ship, though. Just to fuck with 'em.”

“I want to see them,” Mick says.

“What you want, you get,” Len says. He’s always believed it to be true, but now –

Now he can really do it.

“Where’s Lisa?” Mick asks as they’re driving down the streets of Central on his bike, Len taking the time to enjoy being curled up against Mick’s back.

“Three-time Olympics champion in figure skating,” Len says. “Also recently named Queen of Norway. Almost certainly leaving me nasty voice messages on my phone right now.”

Mick sniggers.

“I got her a private island in the Caribbean. She should stop whining.”

“You spoil her.”

“I mean to spoil you, too,” Len says. “Is it working?”

“Yeah, Lenny,” Mick says fondly. “It’s working.”

They come to a stop in front of the Legends’ ship.

The Waverider. Len remembers that now, just a word with no images, but the images will come.

“Mick?” Sara asks, climbing out. “Mick, is that you?”

The rest of the Legends come out behind her.

“Yeah, it’s me,” Mick says, crossing his arms. “I ain’t sorry about it, neither.”

“The only changes made to the world appear to be the inclusion of a castle and a great deal of low income housing, as well as city-wide free healthcare and a better metro system,” Stein says. “I’m not entirely sure what you have to be sorry about.”

“Looking up the changes to the world has been a bit like spending a year hunting down a bad guy,” Jax says, looking bemused, “and then at the end he turns around and hands you cake. Good cake. Cake which is not a lie.”

“It is a bit of one,” Len says. “But you’d never know it.”

“You didn’t change a lot,” Sara says.

“I gave the Waverider some new guns,” he offers.

“And a second jump ship,” she says. “We noticed. Uh. Thanks. I guess?”

Len shrugs. “Mick liked you,” he says. “And I did too, apparently. I’m still pissed at all of you for what I saw when I was with the Legion, but I’m willing to hold off until I get all my memories back to judge.”

“Memories?” Rip asks.

“I’m getting all my memories until I died back,” Len says. “Obviously.”

Sara swallows. “Len,” she says. “The spear – the changes don’t ring in the timeline as aberrations.”

“No, they don’t. That’s how the spear works.”

She swallows again. “Could you bring Laurel back?” she asks.

“Laurel?” Len asks.

“Her sister,” Mick says.

“Could you make Lily not an aberration?” Stein asks eagerly.

“Rex,” Amaya whispers. “Rex could be not dead…”

“Just make me a list,” Len says helplessly.

When they go home, Len retrieves the spear, which is glowing as if to say “Already?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Len mutters. “Last few changes. Okay. Let’s try to make as few nasty impacts to the timeline as possible, okay?”

The spear purrs approvingly.

“Laurel Lance is hereby resurrected from the dead, her body and soul whole and entire. This is due to someone dropping a magic one-use-only artefact on her grave and then digging her up; she won’t wake up until she’s free to oxygen.”

Mick arches his eyebrows.

“Reduces trauma,” Len tells him. “Vampire movies and Buffy all agree.”

Mick rolls his eyes.

“Lily Stein is no longer an aberration. Jefferson Jackson is hereby to return from the secret mission to space he has been on these last twenty years after the government faked his death…”

“Secret mission to space,” Mick says dryly.

“I’ve quadrupled NASA’s budget twice over,” Len says with dignity. “As it should be.”

“I’m not even commenting.”

Len shakes his head. “Rex Tyler, Hourman, was only injured by Eobard Thawne’s attack on him, enough to convince Amaya Jiwe to board the Waverider in hopes of finding his attacker,” he says. “His body was then…uh…kidnapped by aliens, who healed him and put him in stasis.”

“The Dominators,” Mick suggests.

Len shoots him a look.

“I didn’t name ‘em.”

“Okay. Fine. He was kidnapped by the Dominators, who put him in stasis so he would heal but not age. He came back to earth when they did on their spaceships in…”

“Last year.”

“…last year. Really?!”

“You missed a lot. Finish using the spear.”

“Right, right. So when the Dominators came to earth this time, he was rescued by Oliver Queen –“ Sara had mentioned him earlier. “- who hid him in his laboratory until he woke up, which would be right about now. Mick, remind me to tell Barry to call Oliver and tell him to bring Rex over so he can go off and be in a nice happy threesome with Amaya and Nate.”

“Will do,” Mick says.

“Amaya Jiwe, while serving in the JSA, donated her eggs in a ground-breaking new process to another person in her village, who bears the woman who will be her daughter and her granddaughter Mari’s mother. And – oh, just give her a duplicate totem. Long lost twin or something, recently found.”

The spear glows.

Len shakes his head. “That’s enough for now,” he says. “Thanks.”

The spear glows again.

He puts it away.

“Now is everybody happy?” he asks Mick. “Except the Legion and Rip, of course, who are just having existential issues.”

“I’m going to invite Oliver and Felicity to the next hero and villain movie night,” Mick says.

“You do that,” Len says with a sigh. He did not specify movie nights, but apparently he’s got them now.

“Until then, though,” Mick says, and wraps an arm around Len’s shoulders. “I’ve got an idea.”

“Does it involve dessert?” Len says hopefully.

“It does,” Mick says, smirking. “Your favorite type.”

“I actually meant funfetti cake,” Len says, “but I suppose I’ll take you as an acceptable alternative.”

Mick snorts. “You had the ability to do anything at all with the Spear of Destiny and you chose to make me a paradise,” he tells Len. “I think your fondness for me is showing.”

Len sniffs. “It is not.”

“Want to bet if I can make it show?”

Len’s not taking that bet.

That’s a sucker’s bet, and Leonard Snart, ladies and gentlemen, is nobody's fool.

[quackmori]

Jessica/Shane oneshot

fic prompt/idea from @blue-stardew

It was a particularly rainy night in Pelican town...

Its been about 2 years since she lived in Momomori Farm, her day started a little late in farmer hours terms waking up around noon, it was a long long night of having trouble sleeping. Nightmare after nightmare of her being told by her stepmother that she will never be good enough and will never amount to anything cause she is “lazy and sad all the time” while he dad just...stands there, no defending her, no telling his wife off, nothing. That her home is a discusting mess and questioning why she raised filthy animals like ducks, chickens, pigs and cows. Any little flaw was grasped and pulled by its roots and bought out.

Though tending to her animals and crops calms her, the chickens and other critters never judge or question her though they do demand treats from time to time she can see and feel the love they return to her.

And saving some extra peppers for Shane for him to take to work so he can eat something much better than Joja corp’s processed junk as well as some mini pizzas from with the extra cheese.

She saw Shane as a kindred spirit, she wanted to be his ray of light. She knew she could never “cure” his depression let alone her own but finding someone who understood her was so nice he was the light of the moon for her.

After her animals went in for the night she pets her cat’s head and heads towards the Stardrop Saloon for a much needed cold brew, crispy bass and crab cakes. She waves to Shane who is standing in his usual spot, he makes his way over to her at the bar sitting beside her. “Another shitty day, huh?” he comments “Not so much day as I overslept again thanks to nightmares...” she sighs taking a swig of her beer “And to top it off they are bound to show up soon...meaning those nightmares are probably premonitions.” He offers a gentle reassuring pat after taking a sip of his own drink “I know how you feel, but don’t worry -hic- no one will make you feel like shit if I’m around!

And speak of the devil, look who strolls on into the Saloon but her Stepmother and Father.

She finishes her late dinner to prepare for the worst.

“Jessica why where you not in your house?! and why is your phone not with you?!” the angry woman questions.

Jessica bites her tongue and swallows her shame “My phone is drying out cause I dropped it in the fish pond and I was not told you’d even be here tonight, plus I didn’t sleep too well.”

the woman rolls her eyes the man sighs.

“Excuses. I thought you moving would stop you from that shit! If those animals die then its your fault for being so lazy!”

Jessica slumps down “I fucking knew it was a premonition” echos through her mind.

“And you over think WAY too much, she is right you need to be more responsible”

the woman cuts in “If you where not so LAZY you could have checked your phone after waking up SO late! what time you get up this time? past noon AGAIN?”

The sound of Shane's fist hitting the bar table and stool falling over with a clang, the whole bar goes silent.

“YOU DON’T GET TO MAKE ANYONE ELSE FEEL SMALL!!”

Shane stumbles a little but he gets right in their faces

“You...you don’t get to talk to her like that!”

The woman again rolls her eyes “And you of all people, Jessica you have better taste in men don’t you? he smells like cheap beer and looks like s slob! no wonder your place is such a mess! really! you pick this LOSER?!”

Shane clenches his fist he would never strike a woman but in this state he was very tempted but he still knew better.

“Why are you just standing there, huh?! isn’t she your daughter?! why aren’t you defending her?!” he moves closer as his anger rises, not so much at him being insulted he’s learned to tune that out but to make someone who he loves  feel like a small insignificant insect, no Shane wont stand for this.

“Fucking COWARD!” just as Shane was going to raise a fist Kent grabs hold of Shane’s fist.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave. Now.” the retired soldier says in a firm tone.

“How RUDE!” the woman shouts back “That drunk slob was around to hit my husband!”

“That ‘drunk slob’ is Shane and he was defending Jessica who you where clearly treating like garbage and trying to start a fight, we don’t take kindly to people like you. Last warning.”

“You are making a big mistake Jessica, you are just like your pathetic stepsister! grow up! come on honey we are leaving!”

As they exit before the door can close Kent shouts “And don’t let me catch the likes of you back here again!”

“Heh, sorry about that Gus, I guess this is gonna be the first time you add a ban list to the place eh?”

“No need for apologies Kent! and Shane you did very good, I’m proud of how far you are coming, Jess really brings you out of your shell, heh a ban list...never thought of it seriously” As if I kept Pam from coming here i’d go broke ha ha!”

“Ha ha very funny, now Gus get me another!”

“Shane are you okay?” She helps him off the ground “Chickadee I should be asking..asking you that, I might be drunk as a fish but I refuse to listen to anyone talk shit about you.”

“Shane... I...thank you...its really hard for me to defend myself against them, I’m always afraid of saying the wrong things and making it worse. Oh by the way want me to walk you home?”

Shane smiles “You...you don’t need to ask me twice” he then turns his attention to his Aunt “Don’t you dare! she’s shes just walking me home, no funny stuff!” Marnie just grins.

The soon to be couple leaves.

“It’s so nice Shaney found someone, and those people where her parents? well stepmother and father, hard to believe such a kind woman as her had to put up with that for so long.”

“No need to worry Marnie. They wont be back here any time soon, or at all. They are banned for life and--” Mayor Lewis cuts him off “Banned from our fine town, we don’t need people like that dragging Pelican town and her residents through the mud, I’ll be penning a nice little letter to them soon. Once i get their address.”

“Great idea Le- Mayor!”

[offensiveloveletters]

Jealousy and hatred

I want to murder your inside as you don’t serve a purpose. Even if you don’t have the right face for today’s world. Like a poorly knitted blanket of lies and blegth... you’re nobody and I’m someone. Youre jealous and hateful and I want you dead. Uncle same wants you maggoted trash gone from our growing sight. I don’t need your fake bullshit on your power fucked mind. Your job isn’t a job unless your shoveling shit, right? I hate you and yes you’re above me. The top of the food chain and I’m considered vegan on your kind. Your skin cutting makes me queasy. The bludgeoning of your stupid caged brain makes me feel sad and useless like you. What a waste of good space as I’m sure you’re really nice. I bet your friends and family just adore you. Hahahahahahahaha its quite cute and your powerless. My karma is quite like no one else’s. I don’t care about your leverage but I’m sure you’ll play the calm one because you fucking know. You fucking know you’re not supposed to even remotely mess with me. If you won’t go away I’ll let you let me kill you. In the worst ways? How would you like to know what it’s like to be me? I bet your running already.. either towards or away and I bet your dumb ass will say you don’t care. Hahahahahaha hahahahaha are you scared now? Neh, too many scary movies. I want to kill you tonthe best music too. I always loved playing doctor and just to let you know my favorite was being he patient while the doctor soothes me with it’s tummy or back medical work. I can’t quite remember it or who I was even playing innocently with. Oh boy when I start dishing my life and how beautiful I am.... I still hear you cowardly women and your pig headed ones that make you try that much harder. You’re a fool if I ever knew I was looking at one... well in that matter. Do you have any REAL TRUE AND FACTUAL scary stories like me? An October baby and still able to be a scorpion woman just by a day or two.. depending on what dates your goin based off of. My cesarean birth will shut you up. Man made, definitely. Lots pigs... your filth doesn’t stand a chance and it’s deeper than your pathetic laws or your stupid will for life. In whole you failed! You failed. You’re all worthless fat losers and if your not you still are for sticking to my square letting your offspring bark up my tree. You oldies aren’t even old enough to claim power anymore. Your hidden and occult saving from astrology isn’t the reason either. It was your generations and those before you. Pigs! Most unclean. None of you are spared and you’ve made it clear you want nothing more than what you have now. Nothing... life has been dragging down my alley for too long and finally as I’ve raised myself I see why. I’m too much for you. I’m too honest, moralistic and victimized. You little pricks stay to your gang of criminals and stay out of county.

[thatweirdmod]

Beriphitar's Pillage 6 FINAL: Okay

Beriphitar's Pillage Chapter 6 - Okay:

The sounds of searching, questioning people torment my ears, but I'm afraid that if I reach up to cover them, my aching body will tumble from the tree branch it lies upon. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to tie myself in a sleeping bag to a high tree branch like I was a resourceful archer, when I didn't even have the vision for how she did it in the first place?

The branch is not even wide enough to turn over, and who knew lying on a round object would make one more likely to roll off? This sucks. At least they probably won't be able to see me all the way up here.

Volunteers and lawmen push through the tangled woods together like the teeth of a comb- a wide toothed comb, however. I can see nothing from my prison of fabric, rope, and leaves, but it is my educated guess that they're spread thinly.

It would take the full force of the town's small population to be spread thick out here. To make the odds better, with how selfish, cold, and apathetic I believe these people to be, they would not bother, not even for a precious human like the one whose camouflaged grave they've probably already unwittingly trampled over. The volunteers, with their untrained eyes, concern me even less than the fat, lazy lawmen.

And then, it hits me in the crotch. This happens when I'm on my back sometimes, when it only seems natural that I should be touching my penis. Against reason, I begin to shuffle my way out of the sleeping bag. If I drop anything, it could lead them to me if they pass by this tree. I scoot out, leaving the bag tied to the tree branch.

I sit up against the trunk, undo my zipper, and take Mr. Happy out of my pants. I'm already really hard. I stroke myself, and it feels absolutely amazing. Unable to resist, I pleasure myself hard and as fast as I can, using my left hand to give extra treatment to the tip of my dick. "Aaahhh!" Within a minute, I spurt semen everywhere with a loud moan.

I feel the world turning, and once my blown mind regenerates, I find myself hanging off the side of the tree branch, tangled in rope. Ugh, I want to leave this stupid tree already. When will the search be over? Who cares about one little female?

I maneuver to straighten my situation out, but I must not have tied the rope as well as I thought, because it comes loose, and I'm tossed carelessly on the ground. I hit hard and with a groan. I try to stand, but find that my knees and one of my ankles are decently fucked up.

I'm so, so tired of all this bullshit. My supplies are left up in the tree. Keeping my ears and eyes alert for any disturbance in the foliage around me, I fight my body, splintering bark, and gravity to get up the tree again. I collect my things and descend messily, exhausted now.

I don't give a shit. I'm leaving these woods. I listen to the dim voices through the thick bushes, leaves, and humus.

I close my eyes to form a picture of the location they're coming from, and set my path so that it doesn't collide with the noise. I knew this wouldn't work, however, and a couple of frayed edges from the spread of seekers brush across me.

Here's where Beriphitar does it again. I lift up the mini crossbow I purchased at some point in my journey, and shoot the 30 year old man right through his neck. While the woman searching with him is wasting time reacting with a scream, I'm loading another bolt.

I fire at her, but she's just gone into flight, so I miss. Fuck. Voices rise in response to her cries. The spider has sensed a disturbance in the web, and is coming to check what's been caught.

Both the brown ponytail woman and I flee, because there's nothing else for either of us to do. I don't even go to harvest my  freshly hunted prey. I'm frustratingly slow, lumbering through the woods in thick winter clothes, and with the bags on my back. I refuse to drop them, though. I've already lost too much.

I look over my shoulder, praying to luck, I suppose, that I don't see those damn orange vests coming in the dank woods behind me. Please, just one more, then this life can end, and my dominant spirit will find a new, free body to reeve in all over again.

The cold air rattles through my sore pipes in shaking, pathetic torrents as I drag my feet forward as fast as I can. I realize with a sense of doom, that I'm going in the direction of the town. I'll be seen for sure, but like I said, just one more. Give me the miracle of 2 minutes and a... oh! That's perfect.

I see luck personified in a female form walking along the path on the outskirts of the wood. She screams as I barrel into her. I pull the writhing, crying girl to my body, and cover her mouth with my gloved hands. "Shut up!" I whisper harshly and hoarsely. "Shut up, and maybe I'll let you live." There is no chance of that, unless someone comes to save her.

She continues to struggle, but I wrestle her down onto the paved dirt. Her feistyness is wasting a lot of my time, so I punch the back of her head and neck until she settles somewhat. I want some fight, don't get me wrong, but I can't handle too much right now. I hear shouts approaching. The sighting of me generated a lot of excitement.

My heart pounds loudly in my ears as I peel the female's tight jeans down her soft flesh. Her underwear digs into her skin as I tear it off. "Please! Please stop," she says, crying hysterically. I pray again no one hears. Just let me get it inside her.

I practically rip my zipper off in my desperation to get my penis out.

Sitting on the back of her thighs, with my hand pressing her head to the packed dark dirt, I stick her like a pig with my dick. I fuck her hard and fast, relentlessly using her ass and pussy to get myself off. I'm still fucking her, begging for one last blow, when from the corner of my eye, I see the first orange vests coming out of the woods for me.

They're yelling things at me, but I'm not looking or listening. My eyes are bound only to the task before me, my wet dick fucking and ruining the reddened, unwilling ass of the crying girl pinned under my weight. Someone is approaching me fast, but I manage it. I manage to keep pumping until I come, and a hard dam bursts inside my balls. The come is still pouring from my twitching dick as people drag me off of the female.

The echoes of wails and accusatory words whirl in the air around me. "Animal." "Crazy." "Are you okay?" "Horrible." It all blends together into human monkey noise. It's meaningless. It's all completed, but they still continue to talk as if something special needs to be done.

Cold metal clicks around my wrists. My arms won't spread from behind my back anymore. Someone hides my penis inside my pants again. I scream in the disturbed faces around me, "Molester!!! Molester! Molester!" until I'm cut off by laughing.

The sound that fills my ears is empty, cold, and hopeless, but it quiets the pointless cacophony around me. The triumphant roar from my chest booms through the open cavern of my mouth as I'm roughly pulled at. I can feel the hatred and hurt in their many clutching hands, the things I've inflicted flooding back against my body.

I cease my final cry of existence, but not because they've told me to. I'm remembering Uorthem. I should've killed him. Strangled him.

I thought that this would've been enough, but a human never seems to have enough, even right after they get their greatest current wish.

My head slumps, and my face blanks. Many such regrets rack me, and shred my heart. I was striding along with the people before, as a graceful loser, but now they have to drag me- a sack of heavy sins and filthy deeds.

I see in my future a strip search, a holding cell, derogation, frowning men and societal scorn, due process, and court rooms.

I only wonder, when in all that, will I be unsupervised with a rolled bed sheet and something high that can hold my weight?

A hundred footsteps pound the pavement. Lights and flashes assault my eyes as I'm crammed into a lawmen's car. So this is how my life winds down, huh? "Whatever," I think, but I still sigh.

So the monster has been caught. Mourning families and general sympathizers will bitterly curse me as the law tries to make me pay. Let them have their moment of unity as a fist, striking down on a piece of particularly concentrated evil in their swarm.

They will never be able to crush it all, not even when they see the dandelions of desire seeding again. It will reset. The joy as the old people recover and/or die, the hatred and the selfishness, and the sadness of the cycle.

[dasolution-ns]

Going Down Hill

A Katie Hill slam fic by Da Solution

I was at a secret location in California where I was meeting with Kenny Heslep. He wanted to see me so that I can straighten out a terrible situation he was in. As you can probably tell by now if you have been following the news, the situation is that nasty, ugly bi-slut bitch named Katie Hill. She was found out about her illicit affairs with two staffers, but vehemently denies one of them, and then the two-faced hypocritical organization, known as the Democratic party, kicked her switchblade-ass out.

Here we were, sitting in a dimly-lit room not unlike those interrogation rooms that you see in movies and television. His face showed a combination of anger and hesitation. He knew as long as that swing set was on this earth, he will be nothing more than a humiliation. That’s why he came to me.

He was totally exasperated when he said, “I don’t know how those photos got leaked out. I thought we had our computers secure.” Actually I do. A few members of my crew, Team Solution, were paid by a right-wing group to hack their computer. It worked and we were able to get those photos of their shameful throuple threesome. However, he was totally clueless that we were behind it. The group paid us for the photos, and now he will pay us for her elimination. That’s what I call a win-win situation!

“Well, Kenny, that’s what you get for marrying a bi-slut. Trust me, those flaky-ass people are not worth it.”

He shook his head in rightful shame and said, “Oh boy, what the fuck did I just do?” He paused for a bit before continuing. “So are you gonna help me out?”

“Of course, you know my motto: If it’s a bi, then it must die!” Kenny said nothing. He simply smiled.

“Now tell me where she lives. Plus tell me where that other bi-slut bitch and that ugly ass dude she was secretly seeing live as well.”

Kenny thought for a moment before speaking again. “Knowing her, and knowing how much of a promiscuous bitch that she is, all three of them are the place right now, getting busy.”

To say that I was surprised was an understatement. “You mean as in now-now?”

“Yep, as in now-now.”

“Then I must get there now, I got no time to lose.”

Me and two members of Team Solution arrived at the place. I couldn’t bring the full crew because of time. The opportunity to finish that bitch off was so appealling, I was grinning from ear to ear.

I was able to easily break in the apartment, regardless of her having Ring, because Ring ain’t worth shit. It was a two-story apartment room, with a huge living room. This was a splendid apartment, one that couldn’t be covered by a congressman’s salary. Yeah, I said it, she’s crooked. While we hacked into the computer, we got financial records of her kickbacks, bribes, etc. As I was in the place, I heard some noises. It sounded like moaning and bed squeaks. I knew exactly where it was coming from.

As I got to the bedroom, I was going to bust the door down, but instead I decided to gently open the door and surprise the shit out of those sick-ass swing sets. When I got into the bedroom, my eyes were about to pop out in disgust. As Kenny predicted, all three of those fools were there. Katie, along with her fat, ugly, nasty snatch, Morgan Desjardins, and her ugly-ass boyfriend, Graham Kelly. He’s the one she denies having an affair with. Well, we all know now that’s some grade-A bullshit! And speaking of shit, they were in an anal-licking threesome act! Disgusting! These poly-promiscuous perverts are some nasty-ass deviants! It made me wanna hurl. It was bad enough that I had to see all three of them naked! About as disgusting as seeing Hope Solo’s loose lips! When they saw me, they were scared shit!

“Oh no, it’s you!” Katie peeped out.

“You god damn right!” I said in a menacing tone. It scared those horny bastards even more.

Her pussy pal, Morgan, let out a blood-curdling scream. “AAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!” Then the fat, bloated, bi-slut, bitch started to cry, so I gave her the John McEnroe Special, a left-handed backhanded slap across the face.

“SHUT DA FUCK UP, BITCH!” That rug-muncher cried even more. Then another one of the losers was crying, but it wasn’t Katie…

“Bhahahahmmmm” cried a pathetic Graham. His goofy-looking ass was crying like the beta-cuck-bitch he is, so I treated him like a bitch, and gave him the John McEnroe Special as well. But I wasn’t done with his punk-ass yet. I then punched Graham in the face, sent him flying to the wall. He was now unconscious. Now I can focus on those cherries-and-bananas-eating bitches.

First I quickly punch that pig Katie right at her fish-and-sausage lips of hers. Then I kick that fat-slob, bi-slut bitch Morgan in the stomach. She went down in pain. That gave me time to grab something in my duffle bag. I grabbed a rock, then I turned and looked at those two bi-slut bitches with pure malice.  

“So you two like to rock the three colours, correct?” The three colours I referring to is the bisexual flag.

“We rock it with pride!” said a proud and stupid Katie. That just brought a big smile on my face.

“Well I’m glad that you do, because I rock those who rock the three colours – with The Rock!” I pulled out The Rock and proceed to layeth the smacketh down on Morgan and Katie with it, just like what I did to that pedo-fag Afrika Bambaataa, right in their ugly faces. That’s what they get for rocking the three colours. Next I found a pendulum on the dresser. How fitting… I then proceed to smack the shit outta them with it.  

“How do you two bi-sluts like that type of swinging?” I said following with a laugh, while they cried. The more they cried, the more I laughed. Then I noticed that Katie’s back was near the closet door, so I quickly speared her through the door and right into the closet, where she and her finger-friend belongs.  

Eventually however, Graham became conscious again. As soon as I saw Graham getting up, I quickly gave him a side kick to the chest and he flew back to the wall. He was hurt and was crying in pain like the beta-bitch he is. Just to get him out of the way, I pulled out my Glock 17 9mm semi-automatic pistol and aimed it right at his chest. I pulled the trigger three times and he was no more. The two fence-jumpers were screaming in fear. It was going to be a foreshadowing of things to come for those two losers.

Now, the bedroom was a mess, with blood all over the place. I had to get out of there, so I brought those two flakes with me, while grabbing their throats. I saw the stairs, and was about to throw them down there, but something came in my mind. I grabbed a nearby glass vase and threw it down the stairs. Then I went ahead and put my foot up Katie’s flat, white, bi-slut ass, and she started tumbling down the stairs, screaming in agony with pieces of broken glass on her. Then I did the same with Morgan, putting my foot up her cellulite-infected chunky fat white ass.

While they were tumbling, I was giggling my ass off. What was the surprise part was that I almost had all of my foot up their asses, literally! Those nasty bi-slut bitches are so slutty and so whorish that their assholes are almost as wide as the Grand Canyon!

As they were lying on the floor with blood and tears, I came downstairs and dragged those bitches by the hair.  I dragged them to the dining room. As soon as I got there, Katie opened her nasty mouth.

“You mother fucker! You despicable human being! You hateful bigot! I hope you burn in hell. I hope you…”

My response was simple. I faked a yawn. “Yawn… Tell me something I don’t know.”

She immediately shut up, knowing that her insults have no effect on me. I was near the dining room table, so I proceed to do my favourite activity, slamming those people through tables. I picked Katie up and power-bombed her nasty stank ass through the table. Then I picked Morgan up and showed her that my bi-bashing is different from the others, as I bashed her head against the wall, making a huge dent in the drywall.  

After I was done, I knew now it was time to bring out The Solution. The Solution is a modified cricket-bat with a titanium core that has crossed-out flags of the gays and lesbians on one side, and a crossed-out flags of the bisexuals and transgenders on the other side. As soon as they saw it, they were shaking in fear and I was smiling in joy. I first started with Morgan, hitting her with bat’s Bisexual/Transgender side, aka the Bi-Slut/Transmutant side.

“This is for being a fat-bloated bi-slut bitch! CRACK!”

“And this is for eating Katie’s nasty snatch! CRACK!”

“And this is for being a French bi-slut! Fuck the French mother-fuckers! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!”

Then it was that disgraceful congresswoman in disgrace’s turn.

“This is for being a corrupt, shameless bi-slut bitch! CRACK!”

“And this is for being from California! CRACK!”

“And this is for being a fence-jumping, pendulum-swinging, three-colours-rocking, purple-loving, swing-set bi-slut bitch! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!”

Katie was beyond hurt at this point, so I didn’t have to worry about retaliation if I insulted her, but I did it anyway!

“No one’s going to save your nasty ass! Not your husband, not your pussy pal, not even Kyrsten Sinema bi-slut ass!  Not Barney Frank’s pedo-fag ass, not Hiliary Clinton, and defiantly not the DNC.”

At this point they were bloody and battered, now it was time to finally cure them of their bisexuality: a bullet to the head.

I first pointed the gun at Morgan’s head. She still had enough energy to scream. “AAAAHHHH – POW!”

I didn’t let her finish her scream, but I didn’t want to deal with a headache. “Now you will finally shut da fuck up.” She was lying there, dead with eyes wide open. It was Katie’s turn to scream.

“NO! NO! NOOOOOOOO!” She was getting hysterical and I was getting fed up with her annoying shit, so I punched the fuck outta her face, which I did multiple times, repeating a statement to her.  

“FUCK – YOU – BI-SLUT, FUCK – YOU – BI-SLUT!”

Then I pulled her up by her hair only and pinned her against the wall. I had my Glock 17 right near her forehead. I saw the fear and surrender in her eyes. I was quite pleased to see her at that state.

“Well, flaky-floozy, your term on this Earth is about to come to an end now. But look at the bright side, I’m about to cure you of your bi-sluttiness!”

My left hand pulled the trigger, and the bullet went in and out of her head. She was no more.

There was one more thing I had to do. I pulled out an electric branding iron from my bag and heated it up. As soon as it was hot enough, I burned the words “BI-SLUT” on both Kate and Morgan’s forhead. Then I went up to where Graham was lying and burned “BETA BITCH” on his forehead.

After that, I was no more, as I slipped out of the apartment. While I was hiding, I saw the cops finally arrived at the building. I asked Mario, one of my crew members, to hand me the mini-rocket launcher. He did and I used it to blow up the group of police cars. Several police officers were killed, but hey, I wanted to go out with a bang!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

A few days later at a home in Arizona, I paid a visit to someone.  After I knocked, I hid. The a middle-aged blonde woman came out. I quickly got out of my hiding spot and grabbed her why having my Glock 17 to her head.

“Well, hello there Kyrsten Sinema, it’s time that I straighten you out.” Her response was quite simple.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”

THE MOTHER FUCKING END!

[hydra-dominatus-blog]

No, Warhammer 40k does not need a 'ban' list because you can't control your emotions like an adult.

Recently, there has been much discussion in the Magic: the Gathering community regarding some Jeremy guy getting banned.  For the most part, I don't particularly give a shit about this guy.  Apparently he had some pretty volatile opinions, and said something rude about a cosplayer- which led to a bunch of people demanding he be banned from playing, his cards burned, his manhood removed, his mother beaten, and his online game account being banned.  They got two out of five, which is pretty impressive for a bunch of whining card-players that haven't been inside a woman since a doctor yanked them out and sliced the umbilical cord.

I have rather 'unpopular' opinions regarding some cosplayers, primarily those that buy costumes from someone and then want your money to show half a tiddy- and even more, I loathe the pathetic losers who pay for this half a tiddy.  So, you'll have to forgive me if I don't see this as a big deal.  But, it would seem that this lady in question had just enough pathetic incel orbiters to raise a stink on her behalf, so this Jeremy guy got banned by a company that couldn't be bothered to make sure its tournament judges weren't rapists and kiddie-diddlers.  Again, pardon me if I don't see one guy with a Youtube channel saying something rude about a chick in a costume to be such a massive problem, when you look at the bigger picture here.

Afterward, this prompted some members of the 40k Community to ask the question:  Should Warhammer 40k have a 'ban list'?  Granted, most of the people who'd ask this very question are the exact sort that probably should be ushered out themselves- you know, the perpetual outrage fetishists and a website that's basically the Buzzfeed of tabletop gaming.  Well, they fucking would, wouldn't they?

Here's this novel fucking idea:  How about we all get some intestinal fortitude and leave it to the local shop, club, or gaming group to decide who gets 'banned'?  Look, I don't care about someone's 'outside drama'.  Leave it at the door if you're gonna game, and if you can't do that then you need to fuck off.  I don't care if someone upset your favorite cosplayer, or said something nasty to you on the internet- just don't bring it in to game.  Unless someone is actually harassing you, then grow the fuck up and quit crying for a grown-up to come and protect your fragile feelings.  Oh, and 'harassment' has a real meaning, and it's a bit more complex than 'this person upset me'. 

Let me put it this way, in all honesty- do you think the average shop owner is going to give a shit about peoples' squabbles when he's hosting a tournament in his store?  No, because he's a fucking shop owner and not the local arbiter of morality.  He's going to ask you to leave your drama at the door, and boot you if you can't.  It's pretty simple, almost as if we've been doing it this way for fucking years.  Welcome to tabletop gaming, we've been handling our own shit long before you Perpetual Outrage Fetishists came in to 'save' us.

I'm no fan of actual harassment, and if it's ever revealed that this Jeremy guy actually harassed this girl?  Then fuck him, he deserves to be booted out of the tournament circuit... but let's prioritize the actual rapists, pigs, and kid-fuckers that are holding positions of power in that tournament circuit and get them out first.  And hell, as I understand there's actual evidence for the sexual predators, and not much for this Jeremy guy's 'harassment'. Imagine kicking a guy out of a nightclub because someone claims he had a pocket knife, but there's five drunk guys in the corner waving Glocks around and threatening patrons.

That's how I see this 'Jeremy Ban'.

The only 'sound' argument I've seen so far is that the Tournament Circuit and Wizards of the Coast have the right to reject him and refuse to do business with him for any reason they choose.  Which, of course, the last time I mentioned 'refusing to do business with someone for anything you like', these same fucking POF's were screaming about gay wedding cakes.  So it's nice to see we're still doing that 'it's okay when we do it' thing.

  To get on point, what kind of 'ban' is GW going to have?  I can tell you this right now, that company holds far less sway over the average FLGS than you think- and it's going to be really, really difficult for a 'list of meanies' to do anything when some guy spends hundreds of dollars in one trip and drops another $20.00 down to play in a tournament.  So, what- now these 'meanies' won't be allowed in Warhammer World or GW stores?  Oh, the fucking horror!  Now where will they go to get overpriced mediocre hamburgers or get dry-humped by sales staff?

  I don't know if you've been to a GW store lately, but if you spend enough money- they could care less if you're Interpol's most wanted international terrorist.  I doubt some 'list' of 'extreme thinkers' is going to deter them from sacking up hundreds of dollars worth of plastic models.