#wanted to give that fucker my money *so* bad

[daydreamsinthemoonlight]

just went to my first drag show and holy shit it was SO much fun

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character — Unscripted Bracket — Round 4

Propaganda

Glenn Close (Dungeons & Daddies):

#Propaganda for Glenn Close: one of the other PCs mentions multiple times how hot he is #Actually several characters point it out but especially Henry #Also the only person in a podcast that has to put a disclaimer about not being a BDSM podcast to have had sex during the course of the show

We didn’t do hot Glenn summer for him to LOSE. Spoilers for his story but MORE PROPAGANDA FOR YOU:

Young hot rocker dilf

Loyal to his dead wife <3

Does in fact smoke weed

BARD!! HES A BARD. HE WAS LEAD GUITAR IN HIS BAND (that he was kicked out of)

His band was a Christmas cover band btw.

Literally the fandom had hot Glenn summer which consisted of drawing him being incredibly hot and sexy

Anti government (ofc)

Kind of cringefail (Disney adult) (was on dilfs of disneyland)

Young and sexy not your style? Then how about HIM AFTER YEARS LOCKED IN A TIME PRISON WITH A DAMN HANNIBAL MASK ??

Lost an eye and wears a fucking eyepatch

One incredibly buff arm

Has a pet rat named after his son <3

Immeasurable amounts of trauma in this man- becomes progressively more unhinged

OH OLD HUMAN BARD ISNT CUTTING IT? FINE

HE BECOMES A FUCKING DEMON

A COOL HOT ONE-EYED DEMON WHO WANTS TO KILL HIS DAD (also sexy)

HE CANONICALLY ENDS CHRISTIAN HELL VIA CHRISTMAS

IS ALSO WAY OVERLEVELED

Becomes a demon hunter for the rest of his existence

Also nonwhite !!! We are done with cringefail whiteboys !!!!!!!!!

I can’t put into words ok just know he is the best plz love him.

Listen, I don't know this other character but I've seem some good arguments for her However Consider Glenn Close winning through no effort of his own in a bullshit way despite being a dick is the most in character thing ever. He leveled up three times and got a crab mech, we GOT to give him this win, it's fitting

I don’t regulate if minors follow me or not bc I’m a pretty chill space but I hope the world is aware that’s the only reason I haven’t been downright nasty about Glenn close. I’m down bad. I’m NOT in the boat of ‘Glenn isn’t sexy but I want him to win bc it’s my fandom’. I would estimate I have 200+ drawings of Glenn on my phone that AREN’T safe for work. Way more that are. Where did they come from? That’s MY business. But I tell you this fact to assure you- Glenn IS sexy. I’m not voting to represent my fandom I’m voting out of TRUTH AND LOVE. IF YOU DON’T GET IT YOU DON’T GET IT!!! I just think my level of feral over this man is more powerful than y’all realize. If you don’t get his sex appeal that’s okay, but don’t doubt that this is my truth.

Okay but Glenn made a minivan cum by talking to her so

HE HAS A BOOK THAT HE MARKS X’S AND CHECKS FOR EVERY DAY TO SEE IF THAT DAY WAS A SUCCESS OR NOT. TO SEE IF HE DID GOOD THAT DAY. ITS ALMOST ENTIRELY X’S. HE WAS CUCKED OUT OF A SON. AND A DEAD WIFE. HE DIDN’T EVEN GET TO KILL HIS DAD IN REVENGE. There’s absolutely nothing going for him except his sex appeal in his life. Nobody he loved remembers him. He lost his eye. All he has is a pet rat and friends who admit they don’t really like him that much. He was kicked out of his own band. The band was named after him. He was kicked out of the Glenn Close trio. All he could do was deez nuts the big bad and be sexy. If nothing else, then pity him. Look in his eyes. Look at his heart and soul. Do you think pickman needs this to feel good about herself? Can she not accept a loss for the sake of a pathetic father? Can she shake hands with the minivan fucker and his human gun and just take the L on this one? He did not do the BDSM episode for this I’ll tell you what. Do this for my his sake. Do it for Nick Jr, who needs the prize money to pay for his rat snacks. Do it for his son. For Morgan. Ganbatte.

Mod Note: While I will still take "bad dads are sexy" propaganda and "bad dads aren't sexy" anti-propaganda, I kindly request no more discussion on whether or not he was a bad father. This is a sexypoll, not a parentingpoll. If you see a post you strongly disagree with, you can just not reblog it.

Mod Note 2: This tournament is about fictional podcast characters. Please do not vote for the real actress Glenn Close.

Lup (The Adventure Zone: Balance):

Is somehow the hot twin between her and Taako

Lup Bluejeans (née... Taaco? Tacco? Taco? Tako? who tf knows this is why I'm going with her husband's last name. doylistly she gets her last name from her brother whose last name is given as "Taako again but spelled differently"): Hot, funny, smart and undead. Is there anything else you could want in a woman?? Well, in case there is: she's also canonically trans

LUP IS THE HOTTEST. VOTE LUP.

[werecreature-addicted]

to the anon asking about the large amount of sex-trafficking/rape prompts/stories/blurbs, im going to try and give you a real answer

one major factor, is shame

it's a largely subconscious thing, the fact people's sexual fantasies lean toward this aggressive often dehumanizing scenarios.

but its something that has been observed in people raised with very strict social expectations regarding sexuality often having rape fantasies, because it is a way to indulge in their sexual feelings without having to admit to them, in a way.

i, personally, am fat and queer. and while never stated outright to my face, the fact that small children have on several occasions began crying while looking at me in the supermarket line, I would also have to assume im not that much of a looker either

any show of desires for intimacy, physical or emotional, has been laughed at. people asked me out as a joke when i was in school, my father's side of the family openly lamented my appearance since I was a child because my only real value to them was continuing the family line, and that's not going to happen if I'm unattractive and fat

the fact is I have been told my entire life that me being wanted was impossible, if anybody desired me they would keep it a secret out of fear of ridicule, and anybody who would be open about it must have a specific fetish or be using me

I want to be wanted, hell there are times I'm desperate to get catcalled, because that proves somebody finds me attractive enough to express that. (even if the reality of it is objectifying and rude) the basis of these sorts of fantasies are often rooted in being seen as so desirable, so wanted, that any and all restraint goes out of the window. (you know that romance trope line that's like, "are you sure? because once we start i don't know if i can stop." same idea) the tendency towards trafficking and sexual slavery are also rooted in this, but with the added bit of "see, somebody wants me so bad they will spend money on me, to own me. they will fuck me in a crowded room without shame because their desire for me isn't something they're ashamed about, i am a prize, and the fact they get to fuck me is something they will gloat about."

one of the major appeal of monsters is that they wouldn't be bogged down by our social expectations, or they would have ones of their own. there is no fear regarding being wanted despite my looks, because the things about myself I have been told make me unattractive, are things that they openly and voraciously desire. Also, for the fat folks in the chat, wanting to be picked up and tossed around by your partner is largely something we can't have, (BMI is bullshit but mine is nearly double what it "should" be) you don't have to worry about that if your partner is an 8+ foot tall creature that can suplex a sedan

so while in reality, me being stocky and fat is seen as something that makes me unattractive, a werewolf would look at me and go "ah, yes, broad as a brick wall and twice as thicc, he can take it in a tumble."

can you see where the overlap occurs?

obviously there are some generalizations and assumptions based on my own biases here, and everybody's got their peculiarities, but these are themes I have seen throughout my many years too many online

I also just think monster fucker spaces are a little more open to taboo kinks. like wanting to fuck a werewolf who could kill you at any second is already weirder than most people want to go. thank you for sharing your perspective anon.

[hellish-sunsets]

Curses and Blessings - Chapter 2

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 8 ~ Chapter 9

Summary:

In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless. 

Word Count: 1,554

Read on AO3

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

In the chaos of Pentagram City, where sinners ran amuck and you couldn’t go anywhere without running into some fucker doing the things that got them stuck here in the first place, no one gave a second glance when some random woman was thrown out of a rundown building into the alleyway. She slammed against the far brick wall with a grunt, but made sure not to fall to the ground. A large beast of a man followed with a glower, but kept himself firmly rooted in the doorway. 

“Get going, bitch! Unless you want to get yourself fucked up for real.”

She glared at him, taking a shaky step forward, one arm clutching at her bruised side.

“The fuck is your problem, man? I paid my rent!”

The man just shrugged, a cruel smirk twisting at his lips. “Yeah, but I found a pretty bitch willing to pay just as much, and she’ll fuck me too.” He said with a bark of laughter. “Looks like you’re out of luck. Now get out of here!.”

With that he slammed the door shut, shaking the doorframe, leaving her on the street. Again.

He didn’t even let her get her stuff, the jackass. Not that there was much. Everything important was in the bag slung over her shoulders. 

She leaned heavily against the brick wall, wincing in pain slightly as she opened the bag to double check everything was there. With a nod to herself, she pushed herself off the wall and trudged through the streets of hell, unconsciously tugging her left sleeve down to cover the mark on her wrist.

Alright, first thing first, get a place to stay for the night. That was easier said than done, of course. It was hell, filled with the worst of humanity. There wasn’t going to be any well wishers or good samaritans to help and plenty of greedy or perverted men. Probably both. She would have to be careful.

God, she was so tired of being careful.

Of course, the big issue was her lack of money. She already gave that jackass everything she had for rent. He most definitely wasn’t giving her that back. 

She sighed, glancing up. In this part of the city, close to the outskirts, anyone and everyone could see the large building towering over the rest. It was in… not good condition, but better than the rest of the falling apart buildings, all bricks and old-fashioned architecture, with bright spotlights on the light up sign spelling out Hazbin Hotel. Obnoxious and pointless. 

Everyone in hell knew about the Hazbin Hotel, the little pet project of one Charlie Morningstar, the daughter of Lucifer himself. If it was brought up in conversation, it was with stifled laughter and condescension. As if anyone in hell was capable of something like redemption. Did she agree with them? She wasn’t entirely sure herself. If people didn’t want to change, then obviously they wouldn’t stand a chance. Maybe if they got a few people who actually gave a shit it might work out, but that was a big maybe.

Not of that really mattered right now. What did matter was that anyone could get in for free, and it was a hell of a lot better than a night on the streets. She didn’t want to think too hard about what commitment she was making by even approaching the front steps, but it couldn’t be anything too bad, right? From what she’s seen on TV, this Charlie girl seemed nice enough. The worst she could expect was what, some lame exercises? She could handle that. And it wasn’t like she was a shit person herself. She’d only been in hell for, what, three months? It would take more than that to drag her depressed ass down to these people’s level. She could manage this. She could do this, she could do this! She was already debating joining anyways, just to get out of her last building. 

She was dragged out of her thoughts by the sound of the doorbell, loud and very noticeable even from this side of the large double doors. She almost didn’t even realize she rang it. She took a few steps back, tugging her sleeve down again, anxiety clawing at her throat suddenly. After a few moments, she could make out the sound of hurried footsteps and voices. They hushed suddenly before the door was yanked open and she was greeted by the bright, warmth-filled smile of Charlie Morningstar herself, recognizable from her time on TV. Next to her was another woman, with gray skin and long white hair, not nearly as bright and bubbly. 

“Hello! And welcome to the Hazbin Hotel! Come in, come in!” Charlie all but shouted, ushering her inside the well lit lobby. “Oh my gosh, I can’t believe you’re here. Wait, I mean, um, My name is Charlie! It’s nice to meet you!” 

Charlie happily extended her hand and she hesitantly shook it.

“Um, Y/N…” she mumbled. “I’m, uh, here for a room? And, uh, the whole… thing you do here, I guess…”

“Great! Of course! Come on, let’s pick a room out for you and I can introduce you to the others! Oh, we can do session tonight! And then-” Charlie happily babbled on about sessions and introductions as she turned to lead the way. She hesitantly gave the other woman a look. She gave a friendly enough smirk and motioned for her to follow. 

“It’s Vaggie, by the way.” She mumbled so as not to interrupt Charlie’s rambling. She nodded in acknowledgement, not voicing her first thought which was how unfortunate that name was, but that wasn’t her place. 

As it turned out, the rooms here were a decent size, about what you would expect from a typical hotel with an attached bathroom. It was certainly a hell of a lot nicer than her last place. And she really didn’t have to pay rent? It seemed too good to be true.

“It’s… nice. Thank you.” She offered with a smile, making Charlie beam. She looked like she was going to say something, but Vaggie stepped in, placing a hand on her shoulder. 

“Why don’t you settle in, then you can join us at dinner.”

“Oh, yeah! We’re going to have dinner as a group today! Cook together and eat together, bring everyone together, it’s going to be great.” Charlie explained with her usual enthusiasm as Vaggie guided her towards the door. “Though, I guess you don’t have to help with the cooking today. You can join in next time! I’ll send somebody when it’s ready, okay?”

“Yeah, sounds good, sweetheart. Thank you again.” She replied politely, earning another beaming smile before Vaggie managed to get Charlie out of the room, closing the door behind them. She heard the girl’s excited voice as she was guided down the hallway. 

Y/N waited for it to be quiet before finally letting out the breath she was holding.

She could do this. 

She dropped her bag on the bed, then collapsed onto it face first with a thump. It smelled like fresh linen and laundry detergent, not even the faintest hint of mold or mildew. That, and the sheer softness of it forced a sigh out of her chest, her body melting into the comfort the blankets offered. Yeah, this would be okay. She just… had to keep herself in check, make sure she didn’t ruin this for herself, and make herself useful.

Just don’t be a burden.

She tensed up as the thought passed through her mind, and with it came the disdain of her fathers eyes. Don’t fuck this up, don’t be a buren. 

She dragged herself towards the pillow with a huff, burying her face in it and holding her breath, focusing on her heartbeat. She couldn’t let herself think like that, not now when she had to meet so many people before long. It would be fine, she was fine, it’s okay.

She didn’t even realize she had fallen asleep until the knocking at the door startled her awake. She immediately rushed for the door, yanking it open to the sight of a startled snake-like man. 

“Uh, hello! My name is Sir Pentious and Charlie has assigned me the job of escorting you to dinner.” He said, voice hissing with every syllable. She nodded.

“Of course, just, um, let me get myself ready.” She mumbled, leaving the door open as she headed towards the bathroom to look herself over, trying to tame her hair some and mentally prepare herself for what was to come. 

“We made a beef stew!” Sir Pentious offered from his spot at the doorway. “And that mark on your arm is very pretty! Mine isn’t nearly as appealing…” 

She froze at that, looking down at her wrist. Her sleeve must have gotten pulled up while she slept, revealing the array of gold and orange and pink. She cursed at herself and pulled her sleeve down. 

“I, uh, th-thank you!” she shouted back, wincing.

She had… complicated feelings about her mark and the whole… soulmate thing in general. It was just… better if she avoided the whole thing. She took a deep breath to steady herself and went out to Sir Pentious with a smile, at least pretending she was ready to meet everybody.

[creedslove]

BEING JOEL MILLER'S WIFE 🍓 - HEADCANONS

No outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader

A/N: I wanna quit my job and be his stay home housewife so bad 😭

You didn't actually have a honeymoon because the money isn't abundant but you definitely took a weekend away to stay in a nice lake house or go to a water park in summer because why not before Joel had to go back to work 

But just because you didn't have a fancy honeymoon trip it doesn't mean you didn't spend the whole day all over each other, exploring each other's bodies and barely putting any clothes, I mean, what's the point if you are gonna take them off anyway 

He took his guitar and he played to you as you watched the sunset together, he played and hummed beautifully and overcame his natural shyness so he would sing some love songs to you

You wear your wedding and your engagement ring, and Joel wears his too, not only that, he wears it proudly to show he is taken

After your time off, you had to adapt to your new routine, but now Joel leaves home a little later than he usually did, because now he had a sweet wife to have breakfast with ❤️ 

You have morning lazy sex most mornings, you always wake up with Joel's boner poking your back and you don't resist his sleeping puppy look with the messy hair, sweet smile and strong arms that pull you closer to his warm body 

Breakfast depends on who gets up first, sometimes it's Joel, sometimes it's you. He doesn't mind cooking you breakfast but he prefers when you do it because your food is way better than his 

You love packing Joel his lunch, sometimes when there's leftovers you pack him a full meal in his lunch box, otherwise you make him a real good sandwich and some other treats 

The guys who work for him low-key make fun of the fact the serious and kinda grumpy Joel Miller carries a lunch box made by his wife 

And Joel doesn't give a shit about those fuckers because he has a loving wife who takes care of him

If you don't work or you work from home, you make sure to leave the house always tidy and organized for your man 

If you work out, he makes sure to split the chores with you on the weekend, but since your shift is a lot shorter than his, you manage to do the cleaning mostly by yourself so weekends are for relaxing or going out 

You also make sure to bake him several treats: cakes, pies, cupcakes, muffins, homemade bread, cookies or desserts like pudding or different recipes 

Dinner every night for your husband, especially when he gets home a little earlier than usual and he decides to help you, because that leads to sweet moments and even maybe some dancing in the kitchen 

Usually weekends are reserved for takeout or he actually takes you out for lunch or dinner, because he wants his wife to relax and enjoy the weekend with him 

Joel's a gentleman and he doesn't want you to worry about sharing the bills at home, he sees himself as the one who needs to provide to you, so he insists you keep your money to yourself

And you do so by buying yourself things so you can be pretty for him 

But you also buy him a lot of things, you like spoiling things with new shirts, new jeans, new shoes and whenever you see something you think Sarah will like, you buy it for her too 

So when she comes home from her college break, there's usually a pile of presents waiting for her on her bed 

Joel works really hard and when you two were dating, he often arrived really late because of work, but after you got married, he decided to reduce his working schedule a little because he wants to be there for you 

But still, his work is HARD, so he often gets home exhausted and starving and you gladly serve him dinner 

He often invites you to shower with him after work, which you do it eagerly. Sometimes it leads to some slow, sexy shower sex, and sometimes you just wash his hair and down his back 

When he's sore from working so much, it's also common for you to massage him. You get some lotion and apply on his sore back and you enjoy his grunts and pleasure moans as you help him relief the tension and it might lead to a happy ending with a handjob or not, it depends on the mood 

Or you just cuddle on the couch after dinner, Joel is a gentleman and insists on doing the dishes for you or at least help you with it 

You either rest against his side or he rests his head on your lap 

Run your fingers through his hair and you can swear that man purrs at the relaxation, it never fails him to sleep 

When Tommy finally leaves the house for good, Joel and you start making plans on what to do with that spare room. If you're into art he is willing to turn it into an atelier for you; if you love reading, he already got the tools and the wood to build you a big shelf for your own library at home 

Or one night he just suggests it would could be home office so it gets easier to remodel it once the baby comes 

"What baby Joel?" You frown softly and he cleared his throat "well, you know, I thought we would… or maybe just in case…" 

You hadn't discussed that before marriage and perhaps now you see maybe you should have, but you just assumed he wouldn't want more kids after he spent the last decades of his life raising his daughter by himself 

And to be honest, not even Joel himself is sure if he wants kids or not, but he does love to picture you with a baby bump, carrying his baby, just as much as he loves watching you interact with little kids 

You two decide to sit down and talk things through, and you come to the conclusion that if it happens, it happens, but it's not a necessity or a deal breaker in your relationship

Because you love your husband Joel, and he loves you too ❤️

_____

A/N: idk I wanna marry him so bad 😭

[an-idyllic-novelist]

Husk with gender-neutral!reader relationship headcanons

Special thanks to @isuckatwritingsobenice, @nixie-writes, and a few other writers in the Hazbin Hotel community for helping me create a piece for one of my favorite characters from the 2019 pilot episode, Husk! :)

Warning: Husk's potty mouth and this is Hell, so indecent things are bound to happen but nothing to imply NSFW content.

Husk gave up on the idea of love years ago, preferring to drown himself in cheap booze and try his luck at the casino before Alastor pulls him away to do a job for him or some other shit because of his contract with the fucking asshole. Why else would he and Nifty be wastin’ time slaving away in a hotel that’s supposed to rehabilitate sinners? Least the pipsqueak gets to clean this place from top to bottom and away from the clients, and he’s stuck handling their drunk asses in the lobby bar.

Angel Dust has been the one who’s been trying to get into his pants since day one, but that’s a different story entirely. He’s persistent, Husk will give the prissy punk that much credit.

Though…he supposed it isn’t all too bad being here. Least since Vaggie hired you. Initially, the job offer she and Charlie had posted online was to manage the front desk, handle phone calls, and all of the other tasks required to be the hotel’s conceirge. However, since there still wasn’t enough staff to do everything, he would see flitting about carrying baskets of clean linens or giving tours around the hotel to potential clients, helping Vaggie with organizing meetings with the press, and so on.

He might be a drunk asshole, but if there’s one part in his body that’s still functioning besides his dick, it's his hearing.

He’s lost count of how many times he’s heard a snide remark from potential or current clients about your polite demeanor, if you’re actually a freak in bed, and a whole lotta other bullshit he did not want to hear when he’s still sober. He didn’t want to care but god fucking dammit it made his skin crawl at the idea of some asshole thinking they had a chance with you. You, who never seemed to lose your smile and would go out of your way to make Nifty’s day by belting out Broadway songs on top of the banister, completely lost in the character you were playing and not giving a shit about anything else.

Not gonna deny it, you had one hell of a voice. You could change the pitch of it so easily. From a high tone all the way down a low, smooth baritone that almost sounded like a siren’s song luring sailors to a watery grave.

When he actually musters the fucking courage (thanks to a lot of booze from earlier in the day) to ask if you’d like to go to a bar or even the casino, Husk thought you would reject him. After all, why would a someone like you would even want to hang around an old fucker like him?

But when he saw your face turn as red as a certain deer bastard’s suit and sputtered that you weren’t very good at the slots, though you were willingly to try your luck at the blackjack table as long it wasn’t a high stake one, Husk thought he had actually achieved the state of inebriation to where he was hallucinating.

However, he was proven wrong when you told him that you’ll be ready by seven to go to the casino. Since he’d been on good behavior and Charlie never had any issues with you as of late, the princess wouldn’t mind the two of you being out for a couple of hours as long as you kept your phones on you in case anything happened.

Alastor could care less since watching a tormented, loveless war veteran being bewitched by a beguiling songstress provided him with much needed entertainment~.

Upon arriving at the casino, Husk pulled you over to the slot machines. He showed you how they worked and how much money you should put in them, so you don’t lose all of it in under an hour. The old-fashioned ones with the levers weren’t so bad, though the rounds would go pretty quick if you weren’t paying attention to the denominations; same thing applied to the new tech ones, betting could go from 88 cents to up to two dollars.

In the end, you quit after trying three different machines and went to go find the restroom. Husk decided to go find a bar and order a couple of drinks. One for himself, and one for you. A couple of fellas, hellhounds by the look of ‘em, asked him if the ‘pretty little thing’ he was with earlier is with him or if you were single.

“They’re with me, so fuck off.” He grumbled.

“Ya sure about that, old man?”

Husker growled, feeling his hackles rise at the provocation, half of it he blamed on the booze. As much as he wanted to teach these punks a thing or two about showin’ respect….they weren’t worth ruinin’ his first date with you. First impressions made all the difference, least when he’d been alive. So he made a rude hand gesture and sat at the bar until he heard you call out to him.

“Everything all right, Husk? I hope I didn’t interrupt anything between you and your friends. The guys you were talkin’ to before they took off.”

He smirked. “Nah. If I knew them, they’d know how to play poker.” He stood up and grabbed his drink, handing over yours. “C’mon, let’s hit the blackjack tables and see how good you really are.” He said, leading you to your next stop for the night.

Turned out that you weren’t all talk. You were able to win five out of seven rounds, never showing any anxiety or indication that your hand was either good or bad. For kicks, Husk asked if you wanted to try the poker table. You agreed, but just to two rounds. If you weren’t comfortable continuing to play, please allow you to walk away. Husk agreed, opting to watch you from the sidelines as moral support instead of joining you at the table.

Three words could only describe what he saw next: holy fucking shit.

All you could do was smile sheepishly at him when he asked how the ever living fuck were you this good at gambling and didn’t say anything as the two of you left the casino with a hefty sum of cash.

“Would you believe me if I said I’d gotten banned from more than one casino when I was alive because I was just good at card counting?”

He stared at you for a long moment before he grinned widely, clapping you on the back. “I knew I had my eye on ya for a reason!”

‘Course, you’d never know that he wanted to show you that he’s one hell of a gambler at the casino instead of the other way ‘round. How he knew to play his cards right and treat you to something nice, show those little shitheads that a real gentleman knows how to win the game and a good-lookin’ partner all in the same night.

Still…gettin’ spoiled at a nice restaurant for a change wasn’t too bad…so long as no one from the hotel saw them. Especially Alastor.

And that was how your first date went. Nothing too crazy, least the two of you didn’t run into any trouble on the way back to the hotel. Husk walked you to your room, wished you good-night, and went to drink a little more before passing out in his own room.

Husk hasn’t been with anyone in an incredibly long time. There will be moments when he might seem harsher than usual towards you and tries to brush everything off, or chug it down with alcohol. He struggles to communicate with his feelings to someone else, so patience and respect for boundaries is key.

He does not tolerate any disrespect towards you, even if you try to tell him to ignore the sinner who is catcalling after you when the two of you are walking through the Pride Ring to pick up stuff for the hotel. If it happened at a bar while you’re on a date? Be prepared to have chairs go flying or Husk tearing a new hole in the poor bastard who pissed him off.

He is not a fan of PDA. He has a reputation to uphold in the hotel and on the streets. Behind closed doors, however, he will be more lenient. Cuddles and midday naps are exceptional, with him pressing against your body with his tail loosely coiled around your thigh and one of his wings acting as a shield or even a blanket.

Speaking of feathers and fur, he does need to groom himself periodically, especially when it's molting season. You need to be gentle if you want to help him since his skin can be especially sensitive around this time of the year.

Actions speak a lot louder to him than pretty words. If you show him that you do care for him and will never betray his trust or loyalty, he will return it tenfold. He will do everything in his power to make you as happy as you have made him in this shithole.

Taglist

@angelltheninth

@isuckatwritingsobenice

@selineram3421

@nixie-writes

@dragonempress18

@ceoofdabicorpsensfw

@lbcreations-blog

@chroniccorvus

@food-theorys-blog

[son-of-anubis]

Pre-payment

Billy x Brothel Worker MALE reader

Warning: prostitution, reference to other consumers that are not so nice, panic at being outed, and panic at being murdered (?), oral (because I still haven't figured out how to write actual sex without sounding stupid), some talk of saliva

A/N: It felt like people appreciated the last one so I thought I could try to write another idea i had!

Sometimes I questioned why I even stayed here. The room was filled with old fuckers just wanting something warm to help get their rocks off.

Disgraces with a false gentlemen attitude and some money to spare. The occasional woman who wanted to be treated like a princess for once.

The brothel lighting hurt my eyes and I prayed that the whiskey-blur would take away my headache. Looking around at the lightly clad women I sighed. The young men like myself rarely mingled. We got introduced as barbacks mostly. With the opinion people held on woman visiting such places, and especially men being with men it was obviously that we were a 'special request' item. 

I could hear the doors swing open once more, loud voices demanding attention. A quick glance and I could see a blond man leading the pack. 

With quick strides towards the Madam he demanded 7 of her best whores, and he sure had the funds to back it up. 

The man made eye contact with me and I tried to look away as nonchalantly as possible.

"Hey, boy! You had your fun yet?" blondie shoutet in his direction. 

Had he? Mr. Redding had been in, he is always quite gentle, in his own way. Mrs. Bowen and her friend was also in for a visit. That went fine. In my mind I suddenly remembered that Mr. Archer had mentioned his plan to join me later that evening. 

The violent shudder was impossible to contain. If I could avoid Mr. Archer I would. The pain and fear was not worth the money if I could find time somewhere else.

I was fully aware they thought me just another patron. So I carefully said: "I ain't got the money for that."

"Aye, we got some for you, todays good deed, huh? Help ya pop your cherry!" the brunette next to blondie said, laughing.

I nodded in fake glee, maybe I could score some time with Lola, give her the night off to, I knew she worked to much since her kid got sick.

"Names Jessie." so not blondie, eh. 

"Most people call me Angel." It was for the best to say, no way I was giving out my name to some outlaws.

The buggy ride wasn't to bad. Me, Lola and Caroline was chatting. They took great amusement in me 'losing my cherry' this evening. I couldn't help the chuckle leaving my mouth. Yeah, it was pretty funny.

The 3 men up front started hollering, being met with equal enthusiasm somewhere in the near distance. 

As the wagon stopped, a group of maybe 12 men came into view, all dripping in machismo. Fucking losers if you asked me. 

My gaze stopped as ice blue eyes met mine. The shaggy brown hair under a worn and torn hat. He was absolutely beautiful....and probably would spend the night with one of the women. The reminder was not a fun one, but it was the way of life.

Caroline launched herself at the nearest outlaw and the others followed suit. I made my way at the back of the group, walking over to the open fire. 

I nodded at the people going into the cabin before departing, making sure they where okay with the current arrangement, but it was good money so I knew noone was actually going to protest.

The evening air was sticky and I grabbed the cup closes to me. Moonshine. That would do.

The giggling and moaning started soon after, but at this point in my life it was basically white noise.

They vague sound of footsteps approached, stopping next to me. As I cast a glace upwards I was met with blue. An involuntary shiver fell down my back. God he was gorgeous. 

"May I?" he asked, the drawl wasn't as worn in as most, he probably was not born in the west. 

I gestured to the rickedy chair next to me. 

"What's your name, sugar?" maybe the nickname was over the line, but half the excitement had always been toying between making men uncomfortable and getting beaten up.

The man lifted an eybrow but still answered.

"William Bonney, but you can call me Billy if you want." Billy tilted his head slightly, sizing me up, see if I was a threat. I really wasn't, and had never been, else I would never have gotten into this profession. "And what might yours be?"

The intense sensation of wanting to tell him my real name washed over me. Damn his hotness, I was always a sucker, metaphorically and literally, for charming people. 

"....people call me Angel." Oh shit, that hesitation could be heard a mile away. 

Billy looked at me, more like stared at me, for what felt like forever.

"You a.....worker?"

How the fuck did he spot that. Noone ever did, why the fuck did he? And why would he ask? I am dead. 

The panic in my chest hurt and I tried to keep my breathing even. 

Billy looked at me, expecting an answer and for some reason, I blame panic, I nodded. My eyes darted around wildly, I was going to die, and in the middle of nowhere. I was going to be murdered by Billy the fucking Kid. Oh fuck.

A hand lands on my shoulder and my eyes meet with Billys. He looked, concerned? Why?

"m'not telling anyone." he said, the cadence somthing you would use to calm a feral dog. 

He started rubbing my shoulder, and I found myself trying to match my breathing to his. 

The moments passed slowly, with me calming down at snail pace. The universe seemed aligned as we somehow gravitated towards each other, inching closer and closer until Billy had his arm around my shoulder. 

I looked up at him, sapphire piercing my soul. Time stopped as I leaned in, and with uncertainty and slight hesitance Billy did the same.

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

My back hit the cold wood of the shed as Billys tounges invaded my mouth. In our drunken stupor the saliva seemed abundant but neither of us minded the messiness. 

Billys hand found the back och my thigh, urging me to jump. He caught me effortlessly, wrapping my legs around his waist. As we pulled away for a breath a string of saliva briefly connected us.

"$10 for the hour, $25 for the night." i recited. I would be stupid to think this was anything other than a transactional affair, even if it without a doubt would be a hell of a lot better than Mr. Archer would have been.

Billy scoffed but dug out what looked like $50 from his pants.

He must have seen the confusion on my face as he flashed a quick grin.

"Pre payment, if you're good for it, 'cause next time I see you, I ain't keeping off ya."

My entire body heated up as Billy carried me over to some hay. He used his foot to kick some type of old fabric over it and unceromoniously threw me on it.

Quickly undressing without breaking eye contact and my eyes wandered the outlaws figure. He was lean and lanky, but also very obviously strong.

And as our clothing was completely gone my eyes traveled further down. Fuck. Ain't no way that beauty of a cock was fitting without some grease, and as far as I were aware, we had none. But never the less, the heat and spark of arousal fuled me even more.

When my eyes once again landed on his face it looked almost bashful, like he didn't know what to do with himself. It was a stark contrast to the overt confidence he had just minutes ago. 

I made the decision to initiate further and crawled my way over to him. Grabbing him softly, feeling him pulse in my hand, I gave his dick a experimentative lick from base to tip. I heard Billy draw in a sharp breath and as we locked eyes I put his tip in my mouth. 

I licked up the pre cum that landed on my tounge and swirled it around a bit. 

Hollowing my cheeks I plunged down, taking as much as possible of him. 

The bobbing started slow but quicked as we got comfortable. 

His hand slowly crept into my hair, giving an almost shy push, and I tried to take even more of his leangth. The gagging happened almost immediately.

"Ain't have to do it, ya know." Billy spoke in a gruff tone, sounding out of breath. 

I rolled my eyes before pulling out some, deep inhale, eyes closing, and finally slow dip. More, more, more. The gagging was easy enough to control. Before I knew it my nose hit a fuzzy patch. I looked up at Billy, tears streaming down my face, and was met with a man at the brink of insanity. 

Billys eyes held a haze that would disgust me if it was any other patron, but at this very moment I felt nothing but pride. I did that. If I could smile I would.

I felt the first small thrust and had to once again close my eyes to control the gag. But I still managed to give him a somewhat nod, consenting for further exploration. 

The thrusting started almost lazy, but quickly picked up. Billy using my hair as make shift reigns. The curses that left the mans mouth was foul but sounded oh so heavenly. In the mids of it all I heard "Angel" and tapped his thighs. Billy let me up with a shocked expression.

"Did I hurt ya? Didn't mean t......"

"Y/N." I interupted. The confusion grew on Billys face, still looking down on me on my knees, still with a hand in my hair. I pulled myself closer to his cock again, mouth open and ready as I expressed:

"My name, it's Y/N, call me that, please." 

I didn't care how desperate it sounded, I wanted him to praise my name the way it was supposed to be. Y/N the man, not Angel the whore.

Billy seemed taken aback for only a second before growling my name and pushing me back down on him. 

The pace seemed impossibly faster but the atmosphere was also much more intimate. I knew he was nearing the end and I started to periodically tighten my throat as much as I could. 

As I felt Billy start to pull away I buried my face in his pubic hair, clutching the back of his thighs. 

I felt his cum sliding down my throat, warm and smooth. Billy sinfully moaning above me. This was as perfect as a night could get, I was sure of it.

Pulling away, Billys knees buckled slightly, and I grinned up at him. 

He slowly sat down on the floor of the shed, coming down from his high. 

His hand made a vague gesture towards me and I shook my head.

"You're not gonna put that in me without any help," we shared a chuckle "but maybe you could put your mouth on mine again, cowboy?" 

Billy embraced me once again as we fell back onto the hay, but this time the kiss was much more controlled. 

"Once I'm ready for round 2, you're gonna forget everything that ain't my name, that good for you Y/N?" the teasingly cocky tone made me laugh, but I agreed anyway.

Definitely better than Mr. Archer.

[rizs-briefcase]

Fantasy high junior year, predictions/wishlist.

More Fig/Fabian one on one moments, and more Riz/Kristin. I’m obsessed with these duos and I feel we don’t get them nearly enough.

Gorgug changes subclass + puts more level into artificer

More Pok gukgak. Whole family reunion. (I just really love him)

More Riz sexuality scenes; this is important to me because he’s my favourite and I’m aroace. Just give me more.

A couple break up. ( moneys on Kristen/tracker but gorgug/Zelda are a contender)

Ragh love interest!!! Please!!

The bad kids trying to find prom dates (I saw someone else say this and I truly need it)

Another queer arc idc if we’ve had a bunch I want more.

Bad kids parents wedding

Gilear dies, again

Something involving porter

Just more aelwyn , I’m very excited for her sort of redemption arc as such

They all have pretty bad ptsd from the nightmare forest

Domestic nights at mordred manor , like movie night (this is more a request than a prediction)

More of Zayn Darkshadow , and his friendship with Adaine.

A Kristen arc with her brothers, like she left her home because it was unsafe for her but she cared about her brothers so much. She must be feeling SOMETHING about leaving them there

Riz gets a tail. I want that little fucker to have his tail grow in god please

Riz wears a beanie now. (Thank YOU for this suggestions because god I need it).

The cubby family make an appearance!

Gorgug spends some time with his biological parents

Sandra Lynn gets her shit together

[pokequirks]

category: dumbair

katsuki bakugo x fem!reader

synopsis: katsuki getting serious, trip to korea and his concerns.

word count: 1.4k

warnings: +18.

note: second of category. third chapter of the series (should i make a masterlist?)

You two spent the rest of the morning together, at least what was left of it. Watching news, ordering food delivery and taking advantage of the free day that you both share. 

"I should turn on my phone" You said, heading to your belongins under Katsuki's gaze. Numerous buzzes and notifications. "Ah, shit..." You whisper.

"What's wrong?" Katsuki asks, clearly annoyed, being almost sure it was your shitty ex.

"Kijun, he's been calling like crazy" You sigh "I'll have to go to Korea."

Katsuki briefly felt like all that was built yesterday night was falling into pieces. What if you two made up? What if he finds a way to make you stay? What if he's again left there with a broken heart?

"I'm serius with you."

"Wanna go with me?"

You both speak at the same time. Katsuki's confussion and worriness disguised with his frown. Your gentle smile and eyes looking at him from above.

"I mean, if you want to go, we should sleep at my apartment. That motherfucker thinks he has some right over it".

"I'll talk to Deku,'' Katsuki said, standing and holding his phone. "I'm really serius with you. I don't want you to leave me here again for a shitty clown. Don't know how ya’ feel about marriage now, but in the future if you feel it's fine please let me know."

Katsuki finished and excused himself in order to call Deku and inform him about his trip with you and that he would be taking an extra day off, since he always took just one.

From the office Midoriya smiled happily for Katsuki and you. Finally taking place where you both belonged. With each other. Of course, he was alredy aware of the broken compromise between you and your Korean fianceé.

And you, you were left there thinking about marriage. Marriage with Katsuki. The sensation of hot cheeks as you thought about getting married to him. However, you know you have things to talk to a terapist and heal some others. So, yeah, you wouldn't probably think a lot about getting married in the near future.

For now you will only focus on being a good hero, reconnect with old friends and...

"It's done," Katsuki announced, getting out of his bedroom.

Him.

You and Katsuki had arrived at the café where you and Kijun had decided to speak. Quick kiss on his lips before separating, he going to a kinda far table, still in your vision range, and you sitting in front of the man that once was your fianceé.

"So in the end I was always right, huh?" He asks with a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"We remainded friends until the night I flew back after taking you out of my apartment" He clenched his jaw, "Katsuki fucked me really well that night and he'll do the same tonight."

"I think we should sell and split the money," he changes the subject "after all, it is under our names."

"You only paid the first two three months of maintenance fee, I gave the entrace and the rest of the apartment because you 'weren't a pro hero and didn't make as much money as me', am I wrong?"

"Ahg, then give me the car and the months I paid."

"You serious? I paid for the car, the only thing you paid was the insurance and this last month you asked me to pay it," Kijun throwed his head back and complained. On the other tables people started to whisper looking at your table. "Be an adult and keep it quiet."

"Then what do you want me to do? Wanna leave me here with nothing?"

"Even after what you did I do not wish you anything bad," you sighed "I suppose you're living with the journalist and I think I can sell you the car at market price minus the amount of insurance you have paid."

"I guess that's fine..."

You reunited with Katsuki after finishing the chat with your ex. He had finished his coffee and even took your recommendation on the strawberry cheesecake. He gave you the last bite as he saw that fucker heading out the café.

"Hey look at me," Bright green eyes looking at him, lashes bating and blushed cheeks "I love you, Tsukipie."

"Uhm? I love you too," he responds, caresing the palm of your hand "What deal did the shitman and you make?"

You playfully roll your eyes and look at him, "I'll sell him the car, I'm not gonna need it since I'll only come back in order to do community work in rural areas."

Katsuki hummed and nodded.

"You could come with me and take vacations at the farms."

"I would like that."

You took Katsuki to eat street food and convenience store noodles, things you usually eated while studying and working. Maybe that was the reason why you were able to save up a good amount of money. Been now aware of your bad habits during your living in Korea Katsuki wasn't really happy about it.

"Did you really eat this shit for years?"

"Yeah, and well, not like years, for field work we were sent to towns with farms and a metheorological agency," you explained "in my free time I went to these farms and help elders with rain and harvesting the crops."

"Sure they gave you marital proposses" Katsuki whispered as you two walked down the street to wait for the bus.

"Yeah," you giggle, holding his hand "I already had Kijun and before I had you..."

"You always had me, dumbair."

"You used to call me that before you fell with me!" You took a seat at the parade, Katsuki beside you.

"Yeah, ya fell with me too." 

"Yes, I did" You kiss one of his cheeks and giggle at the sight of rosy color in them.

You took out your phone, briefly going through news on the local main app and telling Katsuki about them, like the idol you like and showcases held. Until one catched Katsuki's attention.

"That one has your hero name."

"Uh?"

You click on it and it displays a whole article about your café visit. They called him your boyfriend and others actually revealed that he is Dynamight, the number 2 in Japan.

"What does it say about me?"

"That you're my boyfriend and hero number 2 in Japan, they put nice pics of you," you show him "my boyfriend is really handsome."

Bakugo proudly smiled at your commentary, of course he is. Katsuki saw the bus approaching and indicated to you to stand up.

Once at your apartment and before Katsuki entered the bathroom you took his wrist.

"Can we try something?"

Now you were both naked. Katsuki seated with oppened legs and hands on your ass as you devour his mouth and roll your hips over his tip. Tits at his neck level. Quiet moans on his lips as you work through your orgam.

"Wanna be inside...," He whispers, breaking the conection with your lips and taking care of your tits "so bad."

You hummed, feeling all over the place. Your hands running over his muscular shoulders and blonde hair, barely taking time to think before holding his dick and putting it inside you.

"Ah, fuck," you moan, hips rolling even harder until Bakugo cruelly holds your body still and pulls it againts him, "shit, Kats, let me..."

"Kats? Dunno him" he teases, sucking on your tits, "say my name, dumbair."

"Tsukipie, wanna come, please, Tsuki" You beg and he smiles at your desesperation.

He puts you down, legs on his shoulders as he violently penetrates your pussy, one hand messing with your clit and the other holding you still. You squirm under his touch, strong hold on the bed sheets, tears running down your cheeks and pleads comming out your lips.

"Oh my God, Katsuki!" You scream loudly and he pulls out finishing on your clit.

He touches you, your skin twitches at every little friction. Chest going up and down as you tried to recover. He comes to you after a while, starts cleaning his art on your pussy. Then he pulls you closer and you smell him.

"Tired," you whisper.

"Sleep baby, you were awesome," Katsuki whispers too and he leaves a kiss on your forehead.

Katsuki's eyes traveled to the window, he could see the moon shining. And you are lying by his side. He wondered how much that bliss was going to last, how much time you were going to be with him. Utterly concerned for the future, after all...

"Tsukipie..."

"Hum?"

"I love you."

"I love you too."

[macbooth]

full of childish whimsy in a hostile fashion tonight so here’s every shakespeare clown i can think of and whether or not i think i’d beat them in a fight

(i do not mean fools i mean clowns. they do not need to be the secret genius of the play. if they are stupid in every way shape or form i am including them here)

Puck (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) No chance. Bro’s got that magic and ALSO has a big strong scary fairy king as his bear, like, do not separate them. If I even tried throwing hands at this cunt I’d get torn to shreds and used as glitter dude, I’d be over. 0/10

Nick Bottom (A Midsummer Night’s Dream) I could but I’d feel bad. I also think he’d put up a really solid fight. Like this is out of donkey form, bro was a physical worker. Like I reckon I could win a fight with some of the tradies I’ve seen but I don’t think it’d be easy. Also he’s just really dumb so I would feel a little bad. Donkey form though, I’m running away. Scary as shit. I am afraid of horses though. 6.5/10

Touchstone (As You Like It) Absolutely I could beat the shit out of this man. I hate him so much. Full of hostility towards this fucker. His clothes aren’t even subtle I could find this bitch in the forest no time and hunt him down and rip him to shreds, fuckin court jester doesn’t even have the roughness of the country on his side. 9/10 (-1 point cause he definitely fights dirty but I just hate him so much I’d win)

Jaques (As You Like It) First off he’s absolutely a clown. Second off I’ve played him before so my word is gospel. Third off bro has no fucking chance against me. He’s a podcast bro who thinks I don’t know that Tame Impala is one dude. I’d ask him why we can’t print more money and he would explode instantly and it would be the funniest thing he did with his life. 10/10

Audrey & Corin (As You Like It) I’m lumping these two together cause in the show I did they were one character (and I also played them). I wouldn’t even want to fight these two. And even if I wanted to Audrey would absolutely be able to beat the shit out of me and I would thank her. Our setting was in semi-modern country Australia, that girl would have a shotgun. 2/10

Autolycus (Winter’s Tale) Just like Jaques to me. He might be a little bit harder because he’d change costume and I’d get confused because I have no object permanence but other than that what has he got. Bitterness? Resentment? Bitch so did I when I was 15 grow up experience love. 8/10

Falstaff (Henry IV parts 1 & 2, Merry Wives of Windsor) I don’t actually know about this one but he is very punchable. I feel like he’d let me punch him and I think one punch would be enough for me. I think that would satisfy my urge to punch him. He may be a knight but let’s be honest he’s shit at it so I stand by this. 4/10 (just cause I don’t really give a shit)

The Dromios (Comedy of Errors) I absolutely could beat them in a fight but I would feel So Bad. You see how they’re literally already treated in the play, I wanna give them a break. That being said they’re both kinda dicks but they’re going through it already so I’d wanna give them a breather. I would win though, even if they both were attacking at once. 7/10

Launcelot Gobbo (Merchant of Venice) He’s such a prick but I would be laughing too hard at his name to fight him. Bro’s name is Gobbo. Bro’s name is basically Gobby. Imagine being named Blowjob. I would lose my mind. I would laugh so so hard I would collapse. My heart would fail. Biggest L name out there bro. Launcelot Gobbo oh my god. 3/10

Launce (Two Gentlemen of Verona)  Nah man he has an attack dog. I don’t care what breed of dog Crab is in a production I fully believe he would kill for Launce, that’s just their dynamic. I understand them better than anyone else (I have a dog). Also he’s already working for Proteus, is that not punishment enough? 4/10

Speed (Two Gentlemen of Verona) I mean I definitely could fight him. I don’t imagine he’s got much fighting experience. But once again, he has to deal with Valentine which does feel like it would be cruel to inflict more onto him. Like Valentine’s not as bad as Proteus but fuck is he stupid. Also if I accidentally flubbed a punch Speed could absolutely tear me a new asshole with his words and I would sob and cry and literally never recover. 4/10

The Porter (Macbeth) Fuck no. Bro definitely has a knife on him at all times. I can’t explain why I think this I just do. He works night shift, he definitely doesn’t get paid enough for his dog shit job, he would absolutely try to stab me just to spice up his evening without me starting a fight. 1/10

Trinculo (Tempest) Yes. Sorry, you’re Russell Brand? L. I could kick your ass. And he’s like drunk for half the show, and almost fucked a fish. I doubt his judgement is good enough to say the alphabet backwards let alone dodge a punch. He couldn’t even get Caliban to kick my ass (who definitely could by the way) cause Caliban fucking hates him. Bro, failwife to Stephano should pay more. But it doesn’t. 8.5/10

Dogberry (Much Ado About Nothing) Without Verges? Yes. With Verges? No way. Those two are a power couple in the dumbest possible way. He would absolutely try to get me arrested though but I simply would not go to prison. What’s he gonna do? Send me to prison? I’m already not going. 7/10

Mercutio (Romeo and Juliet) No chance. Unless Romeo fucked up so bad like he did in the actual play, I would have no chance against this dude. I wouldn’t even want to even if I could. I’m a Benvolio stan first and foremost and a person second you think I’d wanna fight his bestie? Only exception is if it was an actual fight club and not just a pure fight out of hatred. I feel like Mercutio could give Brad Pitt Fight Club Realness, outfits included.  I would still lose though. 2.5/10

Don Adriano De Armado (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I reckon I could wreck this dude’s shit. You know that gif where the fuckin dude is doing all these cool sword moves and then he just gets shot? You know the one. I forgot where it’s from but you know the one. That would be this fight. Armado would bust out his flair, his razzle dazzle, his pizzaz, and I would just deck him I think. That’s the power you need in this world, I think. Power of fist to face. Peace and love. <3 8/10

Costard (Love’s Labour’s Lost) I do not think Costard would realise he was being fought even as he was actively getting hit in the face. I know how to say honorificabilitudinitatibus, he doesn’t even have that against me. Bro couldn’t even confuse me with that, I learnt that, like an adult. Anyway yeah I’d kick his ass. 9/10

Holofernes & Sir Nathaniel (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This is the same man to me. I would destroy them both. Fuckin nerds. Flowery ass language nerds. I support gay rights and gay wrongs but the only reason I couldn’t fight those two gay muppets who heckle is cause they’re too far away (in a theatre booth), these two gay muppets who heckle are right in front of me. I’d kick their tweed cladded asses. 10/10

Jaquenetta (Love’s Labour’s Lost) She is just like Audrey to me. I could never bring myself to hurt her. Also she’s pregnant and I feel like it’s fucked up to hit a pregnant woman just for fun. Also she could absolutely wreck my shit. Please wreck my shit Jaquenetta. 0.5/10

Moth (Love’s Labour’s Lost) This little fucker should be an INSTANT knock out but I just know this fucker bites. He’s a shit talking 8 year old? Oh he plays wolves on the playground, I just know it. He plays wolves and he’s definitely been suspended for it, I just know it in my heart. Sure, I could kick him, but he would grab hold of my foot and try to rip it off. We would shake hands and agree to part ways, having met our match. He, who plays wolves, and me, who played fairies, leave the fight with our heads high and respect in our hearts. I am kidding of course but I do think we would tie. 5/10

Lear’s Fool (King Lear) There’s already so much fighting going on, I don’t even think they’d notice if I just started kicking this dude. Not only could I fight him and win, I think I’d get away with it too. I’d win not only physically but socially too. What’s he gonna do? Tell his boss? Bro he’s preoccupied with his whole kingdom crumbling, grow up. 9/10

Lavatch (All’s Well That Ends Well) This is more meta but my hatred of this play would fuel me here. I would fight literally anyone in this play if given the chance, not a joke. I would get in the ring with literally anyone from this play, but honestly, out of them all I weirdly respect Lavatch the most, maybe because he at least knows that he’s a cunt, unlike literally everyone else who Just Suck. I do think he’s probably scrappy though, so I wouldn’t leave unscathed. I also think if he got the upper hand he would be so so awful about it, so I’d really have to fight. 6/10

Sir Toby Belch & Sir Andrew Aguecheek (Twelfth Night)  Andrew is canonically bad at fighting, and honestly I do not believe Toby would be any better. Love both of these guys but if I had to fight them both at once I think I would be able to just move out of the way and they’d bonk each other on the head like a cartoon. They’re just silly guys. 9/10

Maria (Twelfth Night) Every woman clown could beat my ass. Audrey, Jaquenetta, Maria, they are all so special to me and would all also fucking destroy me. Maria especially cause I just know she is full of hate. You don’t hatch a plan like the Malvolio plan unless there’s something deeply worrying about you. She’s a Scorpio to me. <3 I do love her, she’d demolish me. 0/10

Feste (Twelfth Night) Would actually kill me. -5/10

I know I’ve definitely missed some but uhhh don’t expect me to remember every clown even if I’m neurodivergent about these plays please. <3

[untoldsoup]

I'm in the ER right now, and being here has given me time to reflect on things.

Life is short, and there is nothing I can do to stop assholes from using AI and stealing shit. It really sucks. But what sucks more is the thought of leaving all the cool friends I made on tumblr behind.

Glaze doesn't work on my art. And honestly I'm sure those fuckers are working to break it cuz they love stealing.

But I dont want to lose my community, and I don't want to stop posting. I can't stop AI, but who knows, maybe that shit will implode in a few years. But I don't wanna give up on my passion because of some soulless gouls.

I guess I'll do what I can: watermark and support my fellow artists. I love commissioning people whose art I admire, and if you have the cash I recommend you commission your favorite human artists. And if you don't have the money- a like, a comment, or a reblog can make a huge difference to a real human artist.

Watching a real person find joy in creating can't be replicated or replaced. Reach out to the art community and let them know you care. Because that's what art is: a community. Its not a corporate stockholder profit machine. Its the living breathing people around you.

And I love you all.

I'll keep posting. Just know, I only post my comic here (and on tapas). Maybe I'll post it to bluesky.

I'm only on those three platforms (as of now) so if you see my style, my art, anywhere else it's not me. It's either stolen or ai crap mimicry.

Being in the ER sucks and is scary. But I should be able to go home . I might have to go back if things get bad again. Its a waiting game rn between my body failing and my scheduled surgery in march.

With how things are going right now, my comic update will be behind. I didnt think my health would be like this.

hopefully I'll get my update out sometime in March. I'm hopeful the worst of things are behind me. I want to go home and draw. And just live my life.

[doe-eyed-fool]

Fallen {Chapter Twelve}

Alastor x (fem)Reader

Angel walked over to his bed and sat down, still not looking at me. I stood awkwardly a few feet away from his door, unsure of what to say. I look at Angel, he held himself with a mixture of anger and a sadden on his face. The only thing that broke the silence was little snorts and oinks from his pet pig, Fat Nuggets.

He waddles up to Angel and nudges his leg with his nose. Angel picks him up and pets his head with a slight smile. "How long have you had him?" I ask. Angel finally looks at me. "A long time." He tells me. "He's gotten me through a lot of tough shit." Fat Nuggets snorts and licks Angel's hand.

I smile softly. "He's a good pig." Angel chuckles and nods. "He is." Angel then pats the space on the bed next to him. "Come on." I walk to the bed and sit down. After a minute or two I finally gained the nerve to ask. "So...Is everything ok?" Angel stopped petting Fat Nuggets for a second before continuing. "No not really." He says under his breath.

"Does it have to do with that?" I say, pointing at my head where the bruise was on his. Angel freezes. "Fuck, I thought I covered it." He places a hand on the bruise, wincing slightly as he made contact with it.

"What happened? If you don't mind to talk about it." Angel sighs heavily. "Remember when I told you my boss is a dick?" Oh...I see. I look down at my hands in my lap. "I'm sorry Angel." Angel shrugs. "I'm use to it." I look back at him. "You shouldn't be. You shouldn't be getting hit at all." I tell him firmly. I'd be a fool to ask why wouldn't he just quit. But I knew in his line of work, quitting wasn't an option. Which only made his situation all the more heartbreaking.

"Fucker took almost all of the money I made last night too, just to add insult to injury." Angel says angrily. "What I would give to give that asshole a piece of my mind." I place my hand on his, he flinched before relaxing slowly. "I wouldn't mind giving him a piece of my mind either." I tell him honestly.

Angel chuckled weakly. "Eh, what can you do? I knew what I was getting into when I first met the bastard. No point in trying to change things."

"Why not? I understanding leaving isn't an option but...Can't Charlie help you at all? He's an overlord, but Charlie is royalty, he'd have to listen to her." Angel's feint smile dropped, his expression becoming more serious. "No way. I ain't getting no one involved in this." I blink in surprise. "But Angel-"

"I mean it. Do not tell Charlie. Or anyone else at that." Angel says firmly. I sigh and nod my head. I hated to agree though, I didn't want to see Angel get hurt like this anymore.

Angel might have been a bit rash and cruel sometimes, but once you got to know him, he wasn't half bad. And he certainly didn't deserve to be treated in such a way. Angel then sighed before wiping his puffy eyes. "Alright. Enough with this pity party." He stands up from the bed and set Fat Nuggets down.

"I need to do something to take my mind off of that dickhead for a while." He walks over to his closet and sorts through some of the various outfits he had. "I think I'll call up Cherri and go shopping. It's been a minute since we went out together." I couldn't help but wonder who Cherri was.

Angel pulled out a short black skirt along with a matching tube top, as well as some thigh high socks and high heels. "You wanna come along?" He asks as he turns to me. "Huh?" I tilt my head. "I haven't see you leave this hotel since you got here. Don't you want to get out for a while?"

"Uh, I would but..." I trailed off. Angel waited for my excuse. "I don't think it would be a good idea for me to leave here at the moment." I tell him. Angel raised an eyebrow. "Why not?" He asked. "Well, Alastor said-"

"And stop right there." Angel cuts me off. "You're letting smiles tell you what to do now? I get you two are close and shit but still. He's not in charge of you."

"I know that, but he said I should stay here. I think he's concerned for my safety." I say, half lying. Angel rolls his eyes. "Oh please. You'll be fine. Besides, you're gonna be with me and Cherri. Nothing's gonna happen to ya." I take a minute to think about it.

If what Alastor said was true, Vox might pull something in order to harm me in some way. "Aaaand, it would make me feel better if you came along." Angel says with a smirk.

I cross my arms. "That's not how you get people to do things for you." I say with a playful smile. "Come ooooon! It'll be fine! Please?" I shake my head. "Ok fine. But only for a little while." Angel's smile brightens. "Great! Step out for a sec so I can change and I'll be right out."

I do as he says and walked out of the room to give him some privacy. After a few minutes Angel steps out of his room, and we were off.

Later we show up at the front of the mall, I was shocked to see just how huge this mall was. It was the biggest mall I've ever seen, having at least 12 floors. And of course, it had that special hell touch to it. "There she is." Angel says as he spots his friend Cherri.

She was a pale white demon with one eye in the center of her face. Her hair was wild, and she had hot pink tattoos littered here and there. "Come on." He takes me along. Cherri noticed him and a wide grin fell onto her face. "Heya Angie!" She greets him. "Who's your friend?"

"Hey Sugar Tits. This is Y/n, she's new to the hotel. I wanted to get her out of that place for a while, hope it's ok that she tags along." Cherri shrugs. "If you're cool with her, so am I." Angel, Cherri, and I walked into the mall.

We spent a good few hours going to different stores and trying on all sorts of clothes. Cherri and Angel were really close friends, there were points where I felt a little left out. However, it was quickly dismissed when Cherri would focus on me. She was actually pretty nice. Wild. But nice.

"Oh! Y/n, let's go in there. That place has some really cute clothes, I just know they'll look great on you!" Cherri says as she takes my hand and leads me inside a shop.

I was in need of some new clothes, so this was nice. I tried to gently reject any suggestion of revealing or skimpy clothing, however. But, luckily, Cherri and Angel, had great taste in clothes.

I was able to find plenty of new outfits, though I couldn't help but feel a little guilty about them paying for it all. For sinners, they really could be very sweet.

I made sure to thank them before we all left the store, we headed to a few more places inside the mall, and even grabbed a bite to eat, before finally leaving and making our way back to the hotel.

However, we were suddenly confronted by a group of dangerous looking demons...

(lol sorry this one was short)

[vitzi9]

Pretty gifts

Joker X GN!Reader

TW/CW: reader is androgynous, murders, talking about kys, work in catering (it needs its own warning), reader curses a lot, mention of vomit, stalker, reader throws up, racism, Gotham is hell and fuck capitalism, blood, violence

tbh i'm a little sad bc nobody ever give their opinion on my works. I put another divider (like the red heart below) in the middle of the story, not really to separate as it's following directly but bc some people find my stories too long so it's like a checkpoint. So when you leave, you know where you were. (It's really long)

also the end is a little weird bc I have no idea if this fandom is still alive so, yeah :) if people are reading, I might continue it. Thing is some ppl find this Joker ugly so...

I hope you'll enjoy this. (19/02/2024) (17k)

You weren't weird by any mean, okay ? Life in Gotham is just really hard. You got harassed, robbed and assaulted more times than you can count. And each time by a new profile type ! Old, young or teen, it doesn't matter, everyone is desperate.

Some of your colleagues at work are prostituting themselves and you for sure considerate selling feet pictures.

That's how life is in Gotham.

But weird ? You stare at the angry man before you, unimpressed. You can't believe he called you weird as well as an incestuous result. You're neither of these. Fuck, how is weird and incestuous his first thought when insulting someone ? Like, he could've called you a fucker, a bitch... Anything !

Your aggressor, if you can even call him that after this, shows you his middle finger while walking background. Quickly though, he loses his balance and fall on the ground. Well, at least he didn't beat you up !

You already got assaulted for your money, which you don't even have, you got two jobs and barely reach the minimal wage. But at the end of the day they, well, stole the few you have, you know ? When you think about it, he strongly smelled like alcohol. That's probably why he failed his attempt.

Even stealing is death here. You never know who you're facing. Hell, just yesterday a guy was killed because he tried to assault some big chief of a mob. Someone with a clown face. TV says the man's limbs were still not all found.

Shit, getting killed by a clown must be mad humiliating too.

You sigh, trying to ease your tired traits by passing your hand on your face. At least the day is over, right ? Another day closer to death. You drag your suddenly much more heavier body on some few meters/yards more, silently praying that no one else will bother you.

Thankfully, your cries were heard. Pushing the old creaking door of the building, you rush to the mailbox. Never have you been comfortable staying long here. The door is only behind you and you don't know if someone is able to enter with bad intention.

Speaking of the devil...

No mail except for this weird card yet again. It's cardboard displaying a drawing of a joker, withdrawn from a poker package. It's certainly not the first time someone pull this kind of joke on you. Though, you have no idea who this is and it creeps you out a little. You turn the card to see if a message was left and sadly, (or not) you were right.

You've been trying to understand who this was for a long time now but in a big city like yours, with god knows who or what ? It's just impossible.

As always, you hate to think this because you don't want this creepy card to become part of your habit, a messy handwriting greets you in black ink.

"I'm everywhere in this city, no one can touch me yet some are fond of me."

You stopped school kind of early so your IQ is probably not high enough for you to understand that. Plus, you don't fucking want to.

You grab the card with you in order to throw it once at home and rush to the stairs (some says someone got killed in the elevator plus it's not working since months so you're not taking it anymore). Finally home. Your hallway still smells like piss and a deadly cold reign here (Nobody knows why). Two of the four bulb of the ceiling has burnt out and a faint static noise is resonating in the whole property.

This building is not even in a neighborhood that bad. But in Gotham, not that bad is still bad. Because bad is sleeping to the sound of gunshot and broken windows. While here, there's still these but not as often as in bad neighborhood. But you can add the moans hearable in the night in it as well.

Your building is really old though, which explains (partially) the bad state it's in.

Taking out the key off your pocket, you start to unlock the door. Unconsciously, your mind goes back to the card of the day. "I'm everywhere"... What's everywhere? There's air. But they specified 'in this city' so air might be too simple.

No one can touch me yet some are fond of me.

You can't touch air and you're not sure people are fond of it particularly. Like, air's fine. It's cool as fuck but are you fond of it ? No. Then what is it ?

You didn't even realize you were looking at the card again, your door wide open while standing in the middle of the hallway ridiculously. Slapping yourself mentally for being so careless, you enter and close the door and all your locks shut.

Some are fond of me, huh ?

In Gotham, what are people even fond of ? Misfortune you'd say. These fuckers love to see others suffer and even make sure they do by engaging in others people life.

But you don't know if that's really the answer. Damn, can't they just give you simple question? Or even better: stop giving you any ?

You drop your bag on the floor, slouching your shoulders and throwing yourself on the couch. Fuck, you hate your life. Why are you even here? You don't deserve this life. Nobody does !

Haphazardly moving your hand, you end up successfully grabbing the remote. You need to empty your mind, or have a background noise at least.

The screen lights up displaying you the newest information girl. The last man disappeared after he made the mistake of letting show his politic side. It's obvious everyone is corrupted here but the mystery in this story is ; who erased him ? It could be mob, politics themselves, everyone.

This city is lost.

The woman is talking about the incessant inflation and how numerous factories and business saw themselves forced to close for good. You just hope your business won't shut down, you need money. What if it does close, though ? You were already sweating trying to live with two jobs, but what if you end up jobless ?

It'll be impossible for you to pay anything. To keep your apartment. To eat. What are you supposed to do if this happens ? You already thought about that and all of your long reflection session always end up on one conclusion: kill yourself.

Because there's no way you're living without job in Gotham while being in the streets. You would have left the city if you had money or even family out there but it's not the case. So yeah, killing yourself that is.

Sure it looks a little extreme but isn't earth overpopulated anyway ?

It's better than being killed. At least, you choose your death ! But you're gonna hope this still won't happen. Up to now, your job is yours so taking such drastic measures won't be necessary. And you hope it'll stay this way.

Damn, you're depressed again. You drown out your worries by hiding your face in your couch's pillow. Man, what capitalism is doing to one.

You switch the channel without looking where your fingers pressed, this time a man is talking. He's saying something about a criminal and quoting every one of his crime. It was going crescendo, at first robbery, assault and burglary but just next to all of that was terrorism and mass murder.

You want to turn your head and watch the profile of this man but are too weak to move. So you simply listen closely to the man voice to get answers.

"Yes, he's a dangerous criminal and he's in town. He already break free from Arkham asylum twice now. If one of you see this man; do not engage, hide and call the police immediately. He is incredibly unstable and may not be alone. If you think you can win against him, you're wrong. He's a manipulative man and a mastermind. If you're seen by him, you better start to pray. Ends the man on a serious tone. Man, this guy knows how to reassure people...

-Indeed, a true monster. But please do not scare our audience. Batman was able to capture him twice, we'll be fine. The man chuckles but does not sound really honest. To answer all the questions you've been a lot to send us, we'll have the pleasure of meeting mister Harvey Dent here, chief of the police department to answer your worries. Harvey Dent ?"

And the voice switched to the other man. You like Harvey Dent. You like to think he's the only man in Gotham who's not corrupted. He's helping the citizens. Unlike that Wayne man. This guy could single-handedly resolve the poverty problem, but does he do it ? Of course not. He's rich after all, why should he care for bum like you ?

Harvey Dent is talking but you're not listening. All you know is that he's trying to ease the population. The men on TV are always saying the same things: empty promises. How the police is already taking care of the problem, that it'll be better soon. Like the police isn't already too fucking busy harassing the wrong people.

Harvey Dent is your last hope. The only man who can change things.

You deeply hope his promises aren't as empty as the other man before him. You turn off the TV and relax in the silence of your flat for a moment, breathing in the perfume impregnated in your couch.

There's screams outside. You can't tell if it's the neighbors or someone outside. Either way, you stand up feeling your eyelids getting heavier by each passing second.

But before leaving to your room, you stop in front of your window and stare outside for a moment. It's nighttime now. The city won't go to sleep, oh no, it's just waking up. The police can already be heard in the distance with its loud sirens. This city really is chaotic. It's just everywhere, you can't escape it. Touching it isn't even possible, you can't grasp it, nor resolve it completely; it's in the air. You can't fight against it. Nobody fights against it.

Fuck, it's like they're fond of it, here.

Chaos, it's scary when you think about it. Because you can't guess what's going to happen. There was a time when you thought that anarchists could be right but if anarchy looks like this, you don't want it anymore. You just want some peace and respect. But it seems too much to ask for Gotham.

You fucking hate chaos.

The next morning, your limbs were so sore you almost didn't make it on time to work. Your boss reprimanded you about your delay, pressuring you by recalling you the time one of your colleagues got fired for it. You were only late of something like one or two minutes but it didn't matter to him.

He only wanted to feel superior. He didn't even need real reasons to yell at you.

The restaurant wasn't packed. Only the usual rich families wanting to spend a pleasant day. They were here to eat breakfast. You try not to think too much about the fact that one single of their jewelry is equal to your salary.

The streets were alive; people running, cars honking. Your colleague hitting your shoulder to bring you back to earth, everything is normal.

"You think you can ask Mike to make another one ? she asks you with a sweet voice. The kid threw a tantrum. It's not salted enough and he hates sausages.

You lift up your eyes towards the crying kid in the back. Cold eyes stuck to his face. You're sure he specifically asked for sausage. You're the one who wrote down his order. And the salt ? Can't he just fucking put some himself?

-Don't question it. They're regulars. Plus, I don't think having beef with a kid is good for our reputation." Tells you your friend after seeing the death look you were giving him.

So you take the plate that looked absolutely perfect and delectable to bring it to Mike. Mike is an old man once passionate about cooking. Now he's forty three and stuck cooking eggs and toast to some crying kids.

"No fucking sausage and more salt please. you say, throwing the plate on the counter in a loud clatter. The man laughs at your anger and don't even need to ask to understand. 'Got it boss !' is your answer.

You lay your weight on the counter, back meeting the freezing temperature of it. Different smells invade your senses; fresh bread, warm oil and eggs. Well, lot of different smells were here as well but they're the one that really stuck out to you.

"You were late this morning right ? Did the client touched their plate ? You can eat it otherwise, it looks fine.

-Because it is, it was made by the best cook of Gotham after all.

The man laughs, mimicking someone blushing by putting his hands on his cheeks. He tells you that you're lying and that you're saying that to flatter him only. Mike had buzzed his hair a few months ago but they were back already; small rough curls mocking him.

You sigh and look back at the plate, it did look really fine. The kid hadn't even touched it ! The eggs and the bread were intact, left in the same state it was neatly put in earlier.

You spend your sweet time talking with Mike before your boss comes in infuriated, ordering you to come back at the front. And you're forced to do so. Grabbing a water jug on your way and putting on a fake smile, you walk towards a new family sitting so straight your back hurts just looking at them.

All of them laid down their menu and are waiting. You arrive, apologizing for the wait. 'Have you decided ?' you ask while putting the water on the table. The man takes the menu and start listing his orders without a smile nor even a look in your direction. The woman is busy keeping her children calm and asking them to calm down. The other tables are side-eyeing her while the husband doesn't even acknowledge his wife.

"Noted, you smile and turn your head to stare at the woman for her to start ordering.

She smiles awkwardly, and tells you her kids orders before ordering for herself. You thank them, "I'll be right back." and you leave to the kitchen. You sigh, scotch the orders on the wall, grabs the plate left for you to take and head back to the crying kid from earlier. The demon who ordered fucking sausage before saying he hated them.

But as soon as you place the plate before him with a smile, the kid slams his fists on the table resulting in his glass of water to splash on you and break on the floor. The mother gasps while the dad gives a slap in his son's head without even you registering the whole situation. Your clothes are completely soaked, you want to say something but his mother is sending daggers at you with her eyes and you know not to mess with this stupid fucking family.

Did he did it on purpose ? Yes. Are you gonna say something ? No.

"It's okay, I love children." you don't.

And you leave. Deeply humiliated. But you can't do anything. Because you're no one compared to them, they're gonna win. Always. Your friend asks if you're okay, you shrug. She's unable to question you further as she has to continue working. You head to the back in search of a broom.

The small closet is all the way behind the kitchen and you're already tired just thinking about it. Once you're in, you frenetically search for your item only for a shelf to fall apart behind you and destroy itself on the ground. You bite your lower lip with all your strength to retain you from crying and cursing the whole world.

It's okay, it's just a shelf. It's okay, you try to think but it's hard when it's not even noon and too much shit already happened to you.

You crouch down and start gathering everything you can when your eyes falls upon another one of these poker card. You frown and take it in your hands, examining it deeply. Uh, wow, okay. It's a little weird. You just happen to receive these daily in your mailbox and suddenly there's one here. Okay, totally normal.

You stand up, looking around you for an answer, trying to see if a camera is here somewhere. But nothing. So you turn the card to read the new message: You need one to live, I often rip it apart and yours is mine to steal. A heart ? you immediately think. You definitely need one to live and the sentence 'steal your heart' is kinda famous. But rip it apart ? Is it, like, a metaphor ? Glancing back quickly, you notice a small note left in the bottom right corner of the card. It reads: what a shitty shelf.

You laugh nervously, your breath getting stuck in your throat. What the actual fuck ? it's not even funny, what the hell ? Sorry for the fucking shelf ? They knew this was going to happen ? You definitely have to talk to someone.

You pass your hand on your face, rubbing it strongly as if to wake you up from a bad dream. Then you take the broom and head back.

Rushing to the kitchen, you accidentally pushes someone in your haste. You see Mike from afar and don't even need to approach him that you yell your question for everyone to hear:

"Mike, do you happen to play poker ?" the man faces you, his confused expression told it all, he didn't. And from the other's cook faces, they probably all thought that you were crazy. None of them looking guilty. But you'll investigate that later.

Not wasting any seconds, you almost run to the main room to find your friend. Luckily for you, she's cleaning glasses at the bar.

"Hey, is it yours ?" you're a little out of breath when showing her the joker card. Your friend simply shakes her head. When you asked her if she knew if one of your colleagues was playing poker, she shrugged and told you she didn't know with an apologetic smile.

"Why ? she asks.

-It's complicated." you say.

It can't be from the same person, right ? If it is anyway, that probably means one of your colleagues is the one putting these at your place. Which is a terrifying idea because you sure never gave your address to anyone here. Trying to see the bright side of it all, that means that you may know your 'joker'. And if that's the case, there's a way for you to stop them. It's better than the cards coming from a total stranger, because you can't act against them. You'll probably leave some clues at work to see and trap your joker.

The rest of the day was terribly hard. You were dying from the inside. Your tummy was growling like a beast; you did not have the time to eat. As you're juggling between two jobs, your boss thought that he had to exploit you as much as he could before you left. Because you're joining the bar, your second working place, at two pm.

"You're gonna leave in the middle of the day, when most people are coming. I'm losing money here, you see ?" he had said to you that day. Yeah, he does not give you any breaks because to him, you don't need one as you leave earlier. Of course you tried to negotiate and he was agreeing with you, on the condition that he pays you less.

"Mike, I'm leaving. you tell him, taking off your apron. Have a nice day, say hi to your kids for me." he smiles warmly to you, wave and you're out of the room in a quarter of seconds. You already bid goodbye to your friend so all you had to do now was to leave.

Putting on your jacket, your thoughts can't stop but think back about this other card you found. Yours is mine to steal. In what sense ? You could've thought it was some creepy flirting but it's just too much. You found these at home, at work. Everywhere. Are they going to rip your heart apart, too ? Are these threats ?

Hopping in the bus, you try to stay away from Gotham's crackhead as much as possible but it's hard when they're drunk and staring at you like they want to beat the shit out of you.

Fortunately, your stop arrives and you hurry to get out. It's 2:36 PM (14:36), the bar is not open yet but cleaning and organizing everything is part of your contract.

It's at five pm (17h) that you open the bar, standing behind your counter and waiting patiently for clients to arrive. You're happy Sean is here. He's a big man of 2m3 (~6'8), practices combat sport and knows how to handle different weapons. In a neighborhood like this, you're more than grateful to have him.

He's also the son of the owner. So it's really just the two of you here. The first persons starts entering the place and it quickly fills up entirely. It's quite a famous area, cops never comes here as mobs are doing their own laws. Sean puts on some background music you can't even hear anymore over the loud voices of the men laughing cavernously.

You're busy serving people's drinks. Moving as fast as you could but it being hard when your thoughts are plagued by cards and your mind is not here. Who's this joker man ?

The street lamp are all finally on, meaning it was past seven already. You didn't even see time pass, the incessant flirting and bickering of the men here enough to keep you from being alone with your thoughts.

"Thanks baby." says a young man when you give him his beer. He has a really bad scar going from his forehead to his lower lip. It's no surprise, you saw men with less limbs, other talking unknowns languages, some with sight or hearing completely lost. Sometimes normal people like you would come, women even but more rarely as the men here were true animals.

You wonder what type of people there is with you tonight. You're not naive enough to think all of them are innocent, in fact, you're sure 85% of your client here are criminals. This bar is situated apart from the city, in a corner more secluded with abandoned looking buildings and scary dark alleys you certainly don't want to visit at night, or even at day for that matter.

This place sucks.

Honestly, with your cards problem, you even considered engaging a spy to see who put these creepy notes in your mailbox. But two things prevented you to do so; first, you do not want to do business with criminals, second; there was a chance that your joker was one of your client.

Some of your clients here probably have mental illness as well, worsening their state. And maybe someone fixated on you and decided to follow you home. It'd be really awkward to engage a man to scare your joker away, only for him to be the same person you're trying to avoid.

But now this idea starts to disappear. You found a card at work after all, your boss is not stupid enough to let anyone break in. So the criminal track wasn't the one. It's one of your colleagues. There's just no way one of the bar's client could have followed you home and at the restaurant.

But on the other hand, it's difficult to see one of your colleagues following you home too. Because after working at the restaurant, you're not heading home right away. You're working here. Is it possible they waited outside until you finished ?

"A whisky for me." is what tears you away from your misery.

You do not look up, instead turning your back to him and reaching the shelves to search for the bottle. You grab a glass, throwing ice cubes in it and pouring the harsh liquid in. You then slide it to him, he nods and drink a first long gulp.

You follow his arm to his face before blocking on it. It's a man with a skin so pale it's getting worrying. His eye bag are terribly dark that you thought he had put black eye-shadow on them. And for a second, you truly thought it was the case. He had really bad scars going from each corner of his lips up to his cheeks, like a badly drawn smile. In the small crevices of his scarred skin, there was faint white and red paint, or make-up that did not left during shower. Is he like, a mime or a clown ? He looks like he haven't showered for a while, no judgements or anything, but his green hair are greasy.

He continues to savor his drink quietly while you're here, astonished by such weird scars. You saw scars, a lot of them. But they all looked accidental, caused by self defense or anything. But his clearly looked volunteer. You could clearly see that the goal was to create some sick form of smile, whether it is successful or not. What the hell happened to this guy ? Has he been tortured ? Did he make these to himself ?

'You got some nasty scars' you want to say. But the wicked grin he gives you is enough to make you gulp and smile awkwardly. Of course he saw you looking at him, you did not move an inch/millimeters. And he does not look like the type of guy to be nice.

"D'you like them ?

-Sorry ? you blinked.

-My scars. Do you like them ?

-Uh, yeah, yeah.

Fucking creepy. What the hell ? What did he do to have those ? Why is he even asking you this ? Why is he looking at you like that ?

-Do you want to know how I got them ?

-No." you answer at the mere second he ended his question, by pure fear he was going to destroy you. Or try to recreate those scars on you. Hey, you never know.

The man grins and chuckles at the quickness of your answer and stops talking for a while. Did you just escape death ? You think so.

He stopped drinking, though. You try to look busy but you're just organizing and disorganizing things on loop. Sean is having the time of his life chatting with the clients towards the tables area. But you, you're stuck behind the counter. You can't even count the times you got your ass slapped or got whistled. Plus, some of these guys often try to threaten you with knifes to make you give them free drinks.

It could've work if Sean wasn't here.

But it's comical in a sense. The morning, you're busy being the little dog, the little slave of these stuck rich people crying when their plate arrives one minute late, with prices on the menu so high it's clearly a scam for some eggs and bacon. With a ground so perfectly clean you could lick it.

And at night, you're here. Surrounded by criminals, drunkards and God knows who. With bad music taste rumbling in the background and place so dirty you could throw up and not even see it through the trash lingering on the ground. Well, in your defense, because you're the one cleaning, it was clean before. But everyone arrives with their disgusting shoes or bleeding and then they spill their drinks, and they fight and, yeah. At the end of the day, this place is a mess.

Your back is still facing the mime guy but you know he's staring at you. You know it because you can't stop shuddering. Your works are sure keeping you in touch with reality at least, you've seen both extreme.

"What's your name ?" You face him, afraid to offend this weirdo.

Telling him your name out of all the people ? Never. Smiling the best you can, you tell him your coworker name from the restaurant. He grins like a Cheshire cat, his smile accentuated by his prominent scars, nodding. You know better than to ask him back his name, he's probably, surely, a criminal. You don't have a death wish at the moment. You usually don't like to lie but this job at the bar taught you better.

-You know, he starts again and you pray he does not start to harass you with questions, he licks his lower lip before continuing. There's one thing I truly hate in this world. He pauses. You wanna know what ?

-Tell me. You say reluctantly, not wanting to anger him.

He lays one of his elbows on the counter, raising a brow and looking around him as if going to tell you a secret he wants no one else but you to know. Then, he looks at you again, a mysterious glint in his eyes.

-Liars.

Oh.

-They're such... he squints his eyes, moving his hand in the air to the flow of his thoughts. Vicious, little bitch, you know ? If we want to change things, he licks his lips, they're the first people that have to go. Don't you think ?

-Yes, I'm with you on that. you hurry to answer, nodding frenetically, feeling your blood run cold and a sweat cross your spine. Myself I really can't stand lying, you know ? Liars are really bad, they're manipulative and all. you were just trying to save your ass at this point. You received a lot of threats in your life, but this man right here ? There was something deeply wrong with him. He was fucking traumatizing you. You did not want to mess with him.

The only thing plaguing your thoughts is; does he know ? Does he know you lied about your name ? Because he specifically asked this question right after you presented yourself. Does he know ? No, no he doesn't. How is he supposed to know you ? You don't even have any name tag on.

The man chuckles deeply before you, licking very briefly his lips again; is that a tic ?

-What's his name ? he asks, looking straight to Sean, as if judging his soul. Does he have to stare at people like he wants to kill them all the time ?

Now you understand. He scared the shit out of you to ensure you wouldn't be lying to him. And now he's testing you. Why, you don't know. But you answer honestly this time. He smiles mischievously. Maybe that wasn't even his plan, maybe he's just deeply weird and unsettling. Maybe he doesn't even know you ever lied to him. Maybe you see things where there's none.

If there's one thing Gotham has taught you, it's to be wary of everyone.

-Are you fucking him ? he asks again, still looking at Sean laughing with the others.

-Why ? this thought never even crossed your mind before. Why would you fuck Sean ? He's nice, he's good looking but, you don't know, you wouldn't fuck him. You just, don't want to ? He's a friend.

-He's quite the tall guy. Are you fucking him ? he insists, ignoring completely your question.

Wow, that is getting incredibly uncomfortable and personal. You know you're supposed to entertain them and all but damn, this guy is killing you. You throw a glance in Sean's direction, hoping to catch his attention so he could help you but he's busy laughing with other clients.

-Why're looking at him ? I'm the one talking.

-I don't think this is appropriate, Sir. It's quite the personal questions you're asking me here. you laugh nervously, hoping to relax the mood but the man before you doesn't even react. Can I maybe offer you another drink ? It'll help...

-You got something to hide ? he licks his lips.

What. The. Fuck.

-I have to stay mysterious in order for you to come back, right ? you do not want this weirdo to come back, but that's the default sentence you usually say to avoid answering intimate questions.

But the make-up man does not insist, he gives you a cheeky grin.

-You want me to come back ? How flattering.

Most of the time, what you implies when saying this is that you want them to come back to consume more, so you have more money because you're kinda the bartender of this place. But this guy just plainly wants to fuck you up. Where's Sean when you need him the most ?

It's like no one around you is seeing you. They're all drinking their sadness, trauma, day away, not caring that a creepy guy is keeping you in his weird conversation you clearly do not want to participate in.

-Do you want to play a game with me ?

-I'm... Quite busy, actually. So...

But he knows you, now. He knows you're a bad little liar. Listening to you is now optional to him; he clearly doesn't care. The man stands up and you start to get scared. What is he going to do ? Is he going to hurt you ? Your hand is holding firmly the bat under the counter, fingers shaking with adrenaline. You never used a weapon before, less against someone. You never hurt someone, intentionally at least.

Sean, move your ass over here, now.

The man grins, eyes trailing your arms. He knows you're hiding something under this counter, but can he blame you ? You're surrounded by criminals, he's one himself ! It's impossible to know what to expect. Honestly, you're ready to scream to get attention and get helped. Even if there's high possibilities for a general fighting to start resulting in this poor bar to be destroyed.

But the man does not try to hurt you, he smiles, put his hands in his pocket and you now realize how well he's dressed for someone like him. A nice and well maintained purple suit.

"It makes me live and follow you at dark, keeps me up at night and makes you fall apart."

No...

-Who am I ?" He ends slowly, torturing you.

Your shoulders slouched down, tension leaving your hand on the bat. Your body become a big, useless puddle. Eyes as big as owl ones.

"I-I don't want to play. Your stutter had gave away your uneasy feeling, you step back, eyeing this man from head to toe.

You've come to despise those damn riddles. You don't want to hear more of them.

-But this one's so simple sweetheart. He mocks you. It starts with a pretty little O and ends with a N. I'm sure you'll find out.

You shake your head slowly; no, it's not simple, no, you don't want to find out, no, you don't fucking want to listen to him. But he simply chuckles, relatively amused by such a big reaction. Well, with that kind of huge revelation, you can't quite control yourself.

He's rummaging through his pocket, heart almost leaving you. What is he searching for ? A weapon ? What is he thinking ? But against all odds, the joker man takes out something so small you can't even see it behind his palm. You know he's doing it on purpose, hiding it from you to destroy you more, to see the look of surprise, fear or shock, or... Whatever, on your face.

-That's my business card, as a little... Reminder." You deeply doubt someone like him own any business, less business card. So what is he going to give you ?

He lays gently his hand on the counter right before you, not letting you see what he was hiding until he removed completely his hand, confirming your theory of him hiding it on purpose. You'd recognize them anytime. Your heart is beating faster, so fast you're scared it might explode. Nothing is written on the side you're staring at, you grab the cardboard, praying that it's just a crazy coincidence even if the drawing of the joker smiling stupidly on the card is taunting you.

But when you turn the card, the answer is given to you. For the first time since you've started to receive these.

-Obsession." you sigh, breath getting stuck in your throat. You were petrified. "You're... You're the joker man." you say in a shaky voice. Was it finally him ? Answers, you needed answers. But when you looked up, the man had disappeared. Leaving you with nothing but deep fear.

Silent tears slide on your cheeks, you bring your hand to your mouth in order to hide your muffles. Looking back at the card, you feel your legs give up under you when your real name is written in bold black letters in a bottom corner. Bile is rushing to your throat.

It's him. He's the one sending you these.

But you don't know him. You don't fucking know this man. And he's a criminal. You're fucked. Smiling like a madman, you start to laugh nervously, not realizing the situation. It's a joke, right ? You cough, progressively choking on your saliva. You bite your lower lip so hard it starts bleeding. You pray, you pray so hard this man isn't your stalker but you're lying to yourself. It's literally the worst case scenario that could happen.

You've never seen this man in your entire fucking life. Where does he even come from ? Why you ? Why him ? With his fucking creepy scars and fucking riddles. He knows your address ! Your name ! What else does he know ?

"You okay there ?" You nod without even looking at the person talking to you. You choke out a quick answer before rushing to the back towards the private toilet.

Immediately collapsing to the ground, you throw up everything you had in you, which wasn't a lot to begin with. You barely even ate anything. But you can't stop. You empty yourself, only vomiting water.

Sean finally comes get you, he rubs your back and help you get up. "What happened ?" He asks you.

"I don't fucking know." Is the only thing you can muster.

What you do know however, is that you're scared to go home.

"Are you heading home tonight ?" You ask him, voice hoarse. "Well, yeah" is his answer. So you asked him, begged him to come with you. Because you were horrified by the mere idea of going home alone. Maybe he would be here.

"You can come to mine if ya want." he offers. And you think that the guy from yesterday probably was right, you were weird. Why aren't you going to the cops, after all ? Probably because they'll think you're lying, that you're insane. A joker ? Harassing you with riddles ? You'll end up in a asylum in no time.

But wouldn't you be safer in a asylum ?

When Sean and you closed the bar, it was already well past one am. You didn't had the strength to redo this all over again tomorrow. But Sean was of good company, cheering you up and trying to ease your mind. Multiples times he tried to ask what was wrong, but he guessed it alone. "Was it that weird customer in purple ? The one with the suit ? I saw him lingering a really long time at the counter." You shrugged when he said that, completely worn out. What could he even do against him anyway ? The Joker man wasn't known to any of you. It was a lost cause.

Chatting with your friends wasn't even crossing your mind, you were terrified. The long walk to his apartment was as quiet as a church. What the fuck were you going to do now ? You were dead, yes, you were just dead at this point. What can you even do against some psycho following you around ? Fight back ? Yeah, if you have a death wish. You have to get out of this city, there's no other plan. But how ? And to go where ?

"We're here." says Sean. You've never been to his apartment's before, and to be honest, you would have preferred for it to happen in other circumstances. Trying to escape a criminal wasn't in this year plan.

Before you stood a tumbledown grey building, not much different from yours in reality. After all, Sean's not that rich, he's payed like you and live with his dad's payment. Though, you're pleasantly surprised to see the coziness of his place.

Warm lights were turned on, his sofa looked quite mellow and the general smell of the apartment was lovely. Not that you're judging him, but you wouldn't have thought he was such a clean guy. Because he's like, well, some kind of mafia man. So, yeah, he often smells like sweat and dirt himself, it's a surprise his place is so neat. Sure, it's damaged by humidity then and there, there's cracks in the walls but so do yours. The paint is peeling in some areas as well, you're used to it enough to not notice it. You take off your shoes, but keep your jacket. Probably in search of a safe feeling, maybe by fear of being vulnerable.

"You can sit on the couch, I'll order something.

You don't even have the will to eat right now, the ugly feeling everything entering your body might be threw back out instantly bothering you too much. However, you did sit on the couch. It smelt like him; you hated it. You were violating his property, his intimacy. You shouldn't be here.

But do you really have a choice ?

Sean is talking in the background, on the phone, yet, not a single word is understood by you. It's like he's speaking a whole new language. The red flowers on his TV stand keeps reminding you of the joker's card and his damn hat.

He hung up, that you heard, and left for another room. You hate to bother him, he probably only wanted to go home and sleep after a hard day but you messed up his plans. Grabbing the remote, you turn on the TV to empty your mind. You search for series, documentary or cartoons, only to be disappointed at the sight of obnoxious ads.

You end up watching the news, it being the sole channel not drowned in ads. A woman is speaking in a professional neutral voice, wearing a white shirt. She talks about the inflation killing our country before going onto her next subject; the outgrowing insecurity. The two preoccupation of the government, or at least, what they want you all to think about.

From what she says, a hold-up happened in a bank yesterday, in plain sight. (Why do they talk about it now, you don't now.) The building stank laughing gas. Only one man declares having seen the main suspect. Her chair slides to the side, leaving space for the video to appear and for the victim to testify; "Green disgusting hair and some fucked up clown make-up. That's the only thing I saw. He has no value, I'm telling you, criminals used to believe in things ! He has no respect for anyone, he killed his own team ! He's gonna come back for me, I'm sure of..." and he's erased from the screen at his outburst, for everyone to forget his trauma.

Did he say clown ?

"Indeed, the woman vigorously resumes, a faint smile on, was she laughing at the victim ? green hair and clown make-up is on brand today as everyone only talks about this mysterious criminal. After disappearing for months, the troublemaker is back in town and seems unstoppable. But has he truly ever gone away ?

It's not the same man, right ? No, no of course not. If he's a famous criminal, he has better things to do than harass insignificant useless civilians like you with stupid riddles. He robbed a bank ! Why would he even look in your direction? Fuck, what if he thinks you have some kind information? What if he think you're related to a criminal ? What if you are ?

-He calls himself Joker, always wears his clown make up and has a habit of wandering at night." The woman straightens her posture and clasps her hands together. "After yesterday's fiasco, the famous criminal already perpetrated his next attack. Earlier, at noon, the biggest hospital of the city was targeted. Cops were able to evacuate everyone urgently. Gotham is in shamble, people are afraid and angry. The police is trying to calm the crowds, in vain." Images are shown behind her of people running, yelling, stretchers evacuating and flashing cops car during her speech.

She continues talking but you stopped listening when finally a picture of the Joker was displayed on the screen, his face horrifyingly reminding you something. Too many information are going to your brain in so little time. You try to rationalize everything but it's hard when your mind is too tired to cooperate.

He's called the Joker. And you happen to receive joker cards. He wears make up. The man at the bar looked like he did. Hyperventilating is the only thing seemingly still possible from your body. You stand up, inking, sinking, learning, engraving his face to memory.

Two big scars, both going from each corner of his mouth to his cheeks.

Like a badly drawn smile.

"Sean !" you call. Your friend runs out of the bathroom, disheveled, shirt loose and no pants, only in underwear. He rushed out, scared something had happened. Your shaking pointer aim at the TV screen, at the face of the man on it. "It's him. He was at the bar."

When Sean looks at the man, a chill runs down his spine. He understands what might have happened earlier. He could see the purple suit the man had on on the picture, which was the exact same one he saw at the bar. Fuck, it is the same man. He knows the Joker, hell, everyone knows him here.

And that's bad news.

He's everywhere in everyone business. He has no sense of loyalty whatsoever, killing even his best allies and no one has the slightest clue what he wants. At the bar, he probably scared the shit out of you, he probably threatened you, too. Why, it's impossible to know. He's quite the unpredictable.

-Don't worry, he says, he probably forgot about you already. He's a scary man, likes to shock people a little. He always attack for a reason and you're not a criminal, so you're good."

But you couldn't believe it. He does not have all the information. He doesn't know about the tons of cards you received until now. Eyes completely stuck to the screen, you observe the face before you, knowing you probably wouldn't be able to escape him.

Somehow, this emission confirmed to you that he was real, that you weren't dreaming. And that you really were in it deeply.

Sean insists you shower to relax a little bit, you're holding onto the remote for dear life, nails digging in your palm. When in the bathroom, your eyes automatically gravitates towards the mirror, discovering your new face scarred by sleepless nights and cries. You're almost scared of your reflection. Sighing, your hands find themselves in your pockets alone but you're startled by the coldness they are greeted with. What have you in your pocket that is freezing like that ?

Your unease comes back in a rush when you take out another one of these cards from your jacket. Are you for real going crazy ? What is going on ? When did this get here ? How did it get here ? It's your damn jacket ! You had it in the work closet all day !

You're tired and doing this little fucked up game is not doing any good. A greasy almost wiped red is the first thing you see, his lips, you guess. He wears some kind of paint as lip stick, he fucking kissed the card, creepy bastard.

Turning the stiff paper, your eyes meet once again one of these painful riddle.

"I'm everywhere, you can't escape me and I'm coming for you. Who am I ?" tears slide quietly on your cheeks, the only sane reaction your emotionless state can give. You're not even moving, eyes staying fixated on the card; the tears are just physical. Body exhausted from it all. What is this now ? You know he's not talking about an object anymore, he's talking about himself. It's not riddles, it's threats. He's coming for you, what is he going to do ? Kill you ? Torture you, or worse ?

The shower did nothing to ease your nerves, you've never been so tensed in your life. What could you even do against this man ?

When Sean called you to eat, you let him know you weren't feeling the slightest hunger. He said nothing, simply keeping a plate for you on the kitchen counter.

You did not even blink an eye that night, paranoid at the slightest noise, a knife slept cautiously under your cushion. The windows and doors were completely shut and you would have loved to do the very same thing to your brain. You fell asleep, eventually, when you should have been up.

Sean was still asleep when you awoke the next day. You were late, and terribly so, the clicking clock on the wall warning you. It was already way past nine. You don't like to leave his house without even thanking him for his hospitality once again. But you'll see him tonight, at the bar. You'll probably have to quit, though. Not yet, as you have to secure another job. You can't risk being here without money, after all. Joker knows where you work at, no way you're staying more than necessary. But... he has to know about your restaurant job too, somehow.

You had a card in the closet, with his stupid shelf trap, after all.

You're safer there, maybe. It's quite the chic area. There's camera, people. Socialites are here, nobody attacks socialites. Usually, at least. Doubts subsists, the journalist on the TV affirmed the Joker attacked in the middle of the day, in plain sight. Would he attack the rich ? They're untouchable, their lawyer always know what to do and they know everyone. You can't kill a famous advocate, right ? It's like attacking the mayor. Remembering his face, you keep the unsettling impression he could kill anyone.

Fuck.

You take a piece of paper, write a few words on it, scotch it on the fridge and leave, dashing outside to not worsen your lateness. You were dead, oh you were so dead. Late couldn't even describe your situation by now. You boss was going to kill you, de-materialize you and send you in another world.

You ran until your legs couldn't support you anymore, people were side-eyeing you in the streets. Certainly thinking of you as some kind of thief or at the very least a criminal of some sort.

Jumping in the nearest bus, your legs being too weak to support you anymore, you finally arrive at your workplace ten minutes later. It was quarter to ten.

You're breathless, rushing once again to the rear of the restaurant. You push the back door open but to your surprise, it won't budge. What ? The guys never lock the door that early in the morning, they know you'll arrive, eventually. You knock a few times, knowing you had the key anyway but if someone was passing by inside, it would be quicker.

You don't have to wait that long as your boss himself is the one opening it for you, as if waiting beside it until your entry. He probably was. He crosses his arms on his chest, eyes glaring holes in you. Damn, you'll have to fight with him, again. You promised him you wouldn't be late anymore, he will never trust you again.

Well, it's not like he trusted you much before to begin with.

"Listen, I'm terribly sorry I'm late but... he scoffs.

-As If that was the only problem ! The man tightens his jaw, talking between his teeth. He approaches his head to yours, almost colliding your forehead together; he talks lowly, scared to be heard. You know damn well what's wrong.

Wow, okay. You were not expecting his reaction to be that dramatic. You're just (incredibly) late. It's not new. What's gotten into him ? You squint your eyes, at a loss of words.

-I was just... You start, ready to recite him once again your preposterous apologies.

-I don't give a fuck about you being late, he cracks, get out of here now ! You are not to put a single of your foot in this restaurant anymore ! You're gonna scare my customers ! In the process, a postilion left its house to attack your cheek. You cringe, immediately wiping it with your sleeve, shuddering in disgust.

-What ?

-What, what, he mimics you with a grimace and a weird voice, Get out of here ! He articulates each words slowly as if you were a foreigner, except his tone was harsh and firm. Haven't you seen the news ? If they hear a criminal is working here, I'm screwed.

-A criminal ? But I'm not... I'm, what the hell ? I'm not a criminal Tony.

-Yeah, yeah, and I'm rich ! Get the fuck out of here or at least, do me a favor and let me turn you in to the police." his face changes to disdain, suddenly thoroughly repelled by your being. "Man, you have to be some dirty criminal to have 600 000$ put on your face. What kind of shit have you done, huh ?

Six fucking what ?

-Uh, listen, I think there's some kind of misunderstanding here. I'm no criminal and I'm definitely not worth that much money.

Hell, in all your life, you did not even earn that much money !

-Hey, his tone changed to deviously adopt one sweeter. I don't want any problems okay ? With you, the cops or whoever is fucking wanting you dead. I'm an honest citizen.

What a hypocrite, he was literally yelling at you seconds ago.

You frown, trying to even understand what he's implying. You scratch your cheek, eyeing him from head to toe. He's in a tux, like always. He never do shit here, settling for bossing everyone around while trying to make you believe he's an irreplaceable element in the team.

Judging by his eyes, he is not kidding.

Is he for real firing you ? Just like that ? For some imaginary story he just made up ? Jobless, you will be jobless. He is firing you. A nervous chuckles escapes you, earning you a raise of the brow from Tony. No, oh no no ! You have this job, you did nothing wrong ! Life is already more shitty than it ever been ! Stalker, debts, fucking serial killer wanting your ass and now you lost your main job ? No, that won't do.

You were already planning to leave the bar, how are you supposed to find back two jobs ? One already was an ordeal.

-Honest citizen ? Are you blind ? You were more so than him at the moment. You don't even have an ounce of honesty in your fucking body ! Are you even aware of everything I did for this shitty place ? You can't fire me and you won't because no one else want to be your fucking slave ! Your job is slavery ! I don't want to be some kind of toy you throw away after you've had enough fun with it !

Tony was outraged you could talk to him like that. He was similar to a bourgeois in the eighteenth century, acting shocked after being the most gruesome person alive, putting his hand displayed on his chest and playing innocent.

-Me ? You should be honored to even be working ! You never understand, do you ? You are wanted, that's it ! There's nothing more, nothing less. You are fired. I am not hiring trash.

You hope the worst criminal of this town gets you, right here, for his fucking ugly disgusting restaurant to be destroyed to the very last crumbs. You'll use his body as a human shield while you're at it, after all, what else can he be useful for ?

Your body is boiling like lava. Hitting, jumping, crying, you don't know what you want, need, to do to externalize all of these toxic feelings. Never in your life have you felt more used, humiliated.

You knew he was an asshole, of course. Everyone does, but hell he fired you ! After years of being his toy !

You understand why people in Gotham are crazy. You understand why they suddenly breakdown and fall into crime. Their life, just like yours, was wasted by some self centered prick like him. Some self centered prick who are not even much richer than you, but think they will be when disrespecting you.

Your face isn't even warm, it's seething.

Your life is flashing before you, old friend, family, home, Mike. You won't even be able to pay your rent ! Of course chaos would be loved in a city where trash rules. Why the manifestation are so violent, why insecurity and banditry are prominent ? Because everyone is tired but nobody is listening. Because nobody wants to talk, they think they're at the top of the food chain.

And he won't change his mind. You're fired, that's all. Nothing can alters his decision. It's too late. He probably just created some poor excuses to get you out, you know it. Because you're not a criminal, and no one is giving away 600 000$ for your ass; he's lying. It's too farfetched.

You muster the calmest voice you can get while in such a boiling state, and God knows how hard it is. Wasting more time here is useless, he'll pay but not now, and not by you. You have a new problem: you need to find a job.

-Why don't you kill yourself, Tony ? Right now ? your eyes were empty against his outraged ones. That's why your wife left you, by the way. That's why she left you and took your damn kids. You don't even deserve to live, really, kill yourself, jump, it'll be better for everyone."

You shrug and turn away to never come back. You really hope he disappears forever.

And without anything else to do with your day, you went back home, body functioning by its own. With no diploma and no driving license, how were you supposed to find a job ? You had little experience, mostly having worked in little jobs everywhere. Cashiers, cleaner, babysitting, gardener (you really just cut bushes and mowed the lawn), security guard, fuck, you did it all. Plus, you have a second job and companies hate to arrange their schedules according to yours, in their point of view, you're the desperate one, you should manage your life.

It was safer to wander in Gotham now, the sun was bright in the sky. It was a clear day, really pretty. A shame you couldn't enjoy it.

You open the always creaking door of the building, feeling the freezing temperature inside. Truly a mystery, though a benediction in the hottest summer. A night out and it's like you already don't know this place anymore. You stand in the middle of the hall, staring at each crack in the walls, each suspicious stains, inhaling the disgusting smell emanating from it all.

Yeah, you hate this place.

Sighing and rubbing your tensed shoulders, you approach your mailbox. Opening it, you're pleasantly surprised when no cards is in sight. Maybe he finally got bored ? Your reaction back at the bar probably wasn't what he expected, not satisfying enough so he gave up. You hope so.

What's inside however is a A4 white sheet folded in two. Thinking a neighbor might have wanted to contact you, you open the paper. Yet, on it, the photo of your identity card in huge format, above it, your whole legal name with just below a price, written 'wanted' for treason. A chill run down your spine.

Okay, that is not funny. What the hell ? Did Tony did that ? If yes, how and why ? You pass your hand on your face, harshly rubbing your eyelids to wake you up. This is a joke, everything's a joke.

An echo brings you back on earth when someone goes down the stairs, upon seeing you, your neighbor halts. You offer him a tight lip smile out of pure politeness, which is a an act he does not even try to imitates as he eyes you as if seeing an animal. Do you look that bad ?

Awkwardly, you shift your weight on your feet to ease the tension growing in you. Why is he still looking at you ? The man, even though you were already well far away from him, distances himself and instead of going straight to the door to leave, bothers to make a detour in order to skirt you completely, without daring to approach a millimeter. Does he think you're going to bite, or what ? You two have talked in the past, briefly sure, but still. Fuck, his behaviour does not comfort you one bit.

When the door shut, you're left standing alone once again.

Things are definitely going in a direction you don't appreciate, you may need to hurry up before something really bad happens. Your hand fetches your phone in your back pocket, calling Sean. When he answers, he does not even bother to greet you.

"You okay? You left really early. You're at work ?

-I got fired, long story. I really need your help, again. I'm truly sorry I myself don't quite understand what's going on and... you stop your ranting, breathless and a lump in throat.

-It's okay, really. I don't mind. Tell me everything, how did you get fired ? Why ?

You called him for several reasons. The first being that he's kind of the only friend you have. The second being that Sean's family know people. They're all criminal at different degrees, whether it is gang leader, small thief or hitman. He's the only one actively trying to live an honest life.

-It's complicated and I'm still pissed about it. you tell him seriously, walking in circles in the hall. I have a question and I really need your answer.

-Not stressing at all. He tries to ease the mood, in vain.

-Am I wanted ?

Sean doesn't answer for twenty seconds too much. His silence is starting to worry you, why isn't he saying anything ? Is he confused ? Does he know ? Please, may he not hide something from you. Wanting to distract yourself, you take the stairs to join your flat. Your fingers were creasing the paper sheet in your hand so hard you could have ripped it.

-In like, he finally starts with a strained voice, a personality kind of way ? Relationship ? He chuckles awkwardly while you frown. Well, no offense but uh, I don't think I am attracted to you, I like you but I wouldn't say I want you, you know ? But you shouldn't be insecure, you're a really great person you know, and I mean, you're not ugly so...

-Sean, what the fuck ? You finally cut him when it hit you that he wasn't answering. You were on the floor just below yours, wanting to walk and not quite go home for the moment.

-I'm sorry, was that mean ? That was definitely mean. He clears his throat. Listen, what I meant was...

-No Sean I'm not insecure, everything's fine. I did not mean... Argh ! You're in this kind of environment, you should know !

-What environment ...?

You want to pull at his hair and shake his head back and forth to punish him for being so stupid. Or maybe you were just not being clear, it was surely that. You were incredibly stressed. Traveling between the different floors or the building to stretch your legs.

-Like, criminals, mafia, I don't know. It's... You sigh, your anger dissipating when you realized you were being a little harsh to him. Weird things keep happening to me and I think I'm going crazy for thinking I may have a price on my head.

-Oh, wanted wanted. No because I thought... He coughs. Never mind. I can definitely tell you that. But honestly, odds are low. No offense but you have nothing to give to anyone. You don't have a lot of money. So I don't think anyone wants you.

Damn.

-Why do you think that anyway ? he asks.

Very briefly, you explain to him why Tony had fired you, still using the stairs and floors as a distraction. Of course, you then told him about the paper you found in your mailbox and the weird encounter with your neighbor.

-I'm just really fucking lost, Sean. I'm sorry, you've been nothing but nice to me and I keep snapping at you, I-I don't know what's going on.

-You're freaked out, it's normal. I don't blame you. I'll help you, send me the wanted poster you got. Maybe it's fake."

Of course, you tell him. You'd do pretty much anything to get out of this situation. You want it to be fake, but there's just an accumulation of bad things that tend to make you believe it's true. Looking around you, you notice to be on the last floor of the building. Flattening the paper sheet back, trying to erase all the creases, you lay it on the dirty floor of the hallways. You tear your phone away from your ear for a simple moment to take the picture. You press send.

You wait impatiently for him to say something, anything. But his reaction is clearly not the one you were waiting for:

-Oh fuck.

-What ? you panic, feeling your heart rises in your throat. What do you mean 'oh fuck' ? Sean ?" But the nauseating ringing of the call being cut short echoes in your ear.

He hung up.

You bite your lip, shutting your eyes as hard as you can. Your fingers find your closed lid, pressing on it as if calming an upcoming headache. What the fuck is going on exactly ? Why did he hang up ? Did you say something ? Did he see something ? You can't keep doing that, nobody answered any of your questions since this morning. You are tired.

You give up. You'll go back home, sleep a little. Research a job in the newspaper and hope for things to get better. Sighing, you walk the stairs once again, only this time to really move on.

Has everyone given up on you ? It feels like it, no one seems akin to want to help you. You never did any wrong to anyone. You always hold the door open to people, you give the few you have to homeless people in the streets. You payed what an old woman lacked in money for her groceries. You work everyday of the damn week, with no holidays.

What have you done ?

Sure, you're starting to break down, you told Tony to kill himself, you yelled at Sean. What the hell ? Never would you have done that in your life. What's happening ? It's getting scary out there, yet, no one's here for you to confide in.

You never should have left your hometown, you punished yourself.

The first thing you do once inside your home is falling head first on the couch. Feeling tears filling up your eyes. You don't fight them, letting them slide freely along your cheeks. After all, it's the good part of having a place to yourself, you get to cry alone in the safety of it.

You'll have to give it up, though. Without necessary money, you'll eventually need to move. Probably find a roommate and live in a red light district.

You spent the next hours trying to read classified ads, key word being 'trying' as your watery eyes didn't allow you to see much. And you ended up watching TV, like you always do. You couldn't fathom the idea of being that alone. When did it all go wrong ? Are you a horrible person ?

The news-woman kept talking and talking without stopping, saying the same things as yesterday and probably tomorrow as well. Inflation, criminality, inflation, criminality. Where were you in all of this ? What about the population ? Where were the solutions ? Is this city really stuck in a loop of chaos ?

The screen now displays a cop in a police station, sharing his feeling and impression about the improvement of the city. You don't listen to him, more struck by what's behind him: a poster on a cork board. Yours. It's your face, with the price, 'treason' shit and everything. The exact same poster you had in your mailbox. The situation is that bad, huh ? Your wanted poster is right next to The Joker one. Is there a link ? Are they hoping to find him after finding you ? They're wrong, then.

You wait, impatiently trying to decipher whether the policeman will talk about you or not. But he does not, so you lay back down on the couch. How does wanted people live freely ? You've been researched for a few hours and you're already going crazy with the feeling everyone's watching you.

Do you even know a criminal in this town ? Well, the only one you do know is Sean. You briefly meet them at the bar, as part of your job. Befriending them is not for you though, so you have no useful information to give the Joker. Then what does he want ?

The doorbell rings through the flat, screaming at you to get up and do something with your life. A chill run through your body, breath stopping for a second out of fear to be heard. For a while, you don't move. Who could it be anyway ? Surely bad news. Now that you're wanted, it could be anyone. But the rings echoes again, forcing you to get up. Slowly and as quietly as possible, you slide to the door. Eye staring through the peephole, you're surprised to discover Sean standing anxiously outside.

How did he get your address ?

Opening the different locks on your door, you however keep the small chain closing it. It wasn't much of a protection to be honest, but you needed to lie to yourself a little bit.

"You hung up on me. Is the only thing you say when your eyes meet.

-I know, I'm really sorry. Are you okay ?

-How did you get my address ? It's weird.

He explains to you how your information are given on your work file. You stand inside, judging him from head to toe. He welcomed you at his place, you have to be polite or you'll really look like an opportunistic. But it's hard when you don't know his exact thoughts.

-Why did you hang up ?

-I talked to my uncle, he has a bar in the center of Gotham. Every criminal goes there, he knows everything.

-And ?

-You're safe, it's false. You're not wanted. He... He didn't see your poster. So it was a bad joke. Silence, you don't believe him. I promise. You're not in danger.

Then why is your face plastered in all Gotham ? Is he completely sure about that information ? You hate to act this way but, it's too late for him to tell you that anyway. False or not, the poster of your head is everywhere. People will try to find you. The veracity of it all doesn't matter anymore.

Though you can't shake that uneasy feeling inside you alerting you of his lie. You saw your face on TV, in a police station. It's not nothing !

-How are you so sure ?

-I told you, you have nothing that could interest such a dangerous man as the Joker.

He's right, on the other hand, something's definitely wrong.

-What do we do, now ?

-You could let me in ? I want to help you but we can't talk if I stay outside.

Halfheartedly, you let him in. He thanks you, admires a few seconds his surroundings before plopping down on the couch. You stay standing even after closing the door shut, crossing your arms on your chest and awaiting his arguments.

Should you tell him you saw your face in a police station ? No, you need to know what he's going to tell you. He's lying, you know it now. But why ?

You thought he could be a friend, turn out you can't trust him that much. Or are you losing it ? Policemen are quite dumb here, they are completely capable of believing everything they see and considering they're desperate to catch the Joker; they could have took your poster as a track.

-What's your plan ? you ask.

-It depends on what you want.

Well, you want a lot of different things. Money, happiness, freedom, family, equality, peace. Right now though, one will be enough.

-I need a job, I can't pay my rent this month otherwise.

-That one's easy. He crosses his arms on his chest, sinking into the sofa cushions. Try ask your bank, they'll lend you some.

-No they won't Sean, I'm indebted. Seriously, did he really think life was this easy ? Did he really think you haven't thought of doing just that ?

He sighs and shrug, crossing his legs, he put his feet on the table. Your eyes are enough to tell him to put them back on the ground. He's a little bit too comfortable for your liking.

-It's these immigrants my friend. We lack money because of them.

What ?

-No, it's just poor distribution of resources. With the ongoing inflation and such, it has literally nothing to do with immigration. You frown, confusion lacing your tone, answering him as if asking a question, because what ? That was so out of pocket ? It's stupid to think like that, it's too easy to accuse others. They're as fucked as we are, you know ? Don't say that.

That's what Gotham thinks ? That each one of their problem is caused by others ? Industries, Government, Politics, they're the one causing all of this. How does someone get to this conclusion ? You thought Sean was good, hell, his family was poor. They survived thanks to drugs and banditry. He's bold to think immigrants are the problem: His family literally embezzles money.

-Jeez, calm down.

Well, it's difficult to be calm towards this kind of stupidity. But at least it keeps you in check, you know who he's voting for. Never trust anyone. It's true you don't know him that well, after all.

-You want my help or not ?

It's harder to see him in the same light as before after this, but if he's the only one willing to help, you can't waste this chance.

-Yeah. You sigh, ashamed with yourself. I need people to forget about me.

-Good, meet me at the back of the bar at the end of our shift. He's not waiting for an answer as he gets up to leave.

-Wow. No ?

He stops in his tracks as you block his way.

-What do you mean, 'no' ?

Is he serious ? With everything you risk ? Criminals at the bar know you, hell, some of them see you every night. No, you are not joining him in the dark in a creepy alley late at night when people want you dead. Also, you need to think a little before jumping straight back to work, it's dangerous.

-Because I don't want to die ?" You need to tell him. "Okay, Sean, I may not understand everything but I know you're lying to me. Am I wanted or not ?

He already lost every ounce of respect you had for him. First with the lying, then with the whole immigrants things.

-You don't believe me ? Is he trying to make you feel guilty ?

-I saw my fucking head on the TV. I believe that's enough proof for me. You cut the conversation straight, not wanting him to keep lengthening things uselessly.

Sean doesn't answer, seemingly hesitating. What is he thinking ? He has to respond. He's constantly trying to avoid the subject and it's getting frustrating.

-That means I'm in danger, right ?

-Yes." he finally answers. Thank God, you think, God why, you also think. "But not because of the Joker. He's not responsible for what's happening to you. All the cards and riddles are from him, yes, but someone saw you two talking at the bar and thought they could get to him by killing you.

You entirely stopped trusting him after he mentioned the cards and the riddles. Because never, in all your discussions, have you mentioned receiving these. He knows too much.

You don't bring it up, of course.

-Explain.

Who could have told him about the riddles, if not you ? The one sending them ? Yes, but Sean's terrified of him. Plus, he couldn't talk to him, even if he had the courage to. It's the Joker, from what you understand, you don't approach him easily. He's not the small local criminal. He's something more.

-The Joker's well known. Everyone wants to defy him. And someone saw you.

-Who ? you ask, finally getting some well deserved qualitative answers.

-His name was, uh, Korej I believe.

-Ko...Rej... you repeat, unimpressed, frowning.

Is it you or does it sound vaguely similar to Joker, but with the letters all mixed up ?

-It's his pseudonym." He hastily answers. "But his real name is John, he lives in the richest part of Gotham. He's a mob leader. He fucking despises the Joker, that's why his name is Kojer.

-Korej, you corrected.

-Yeah, it's difficult to remember. It's quite the shitty name.

He really think you're dumb, right ? You clasp your hands together, catching his drifting attention.

-Okay, well, thank you for everything Sean. It was a pleasure, truly. But now I'm gonna ask you to leave.

-You don't believe me ?

No, no you don't. Everything he ever said to you since he first came here was either weird or false. And sometimes weirdly false.

-Please, leave my house.

You'll go to the nearest police station, ask for help. And if nobody helps you, you'll find a way out of here. This city is dead anyway, there's nothing for you anymore. It's too late.

-Don't you want to talk about it ? he asks hurriedly, displaying his open hands in the air as if ready to grab your shoulders.

-If you want us to talk, okay, you yield. But choose somewhere safe, with a lot of people. I am not joining you at the back of the bar at night where everyone could kill me.

You're going crazy. Why are you even accepting this ? It's not a dream, nor a joke, you really are wanted. People want to kill you. There is money on your head. Sean is deep in thoughts before getting the enlightenment he needed, suddenly vigorously saying:

-Shopping center.

-What ?

-Let's meet at the shopping center, in two hours. I have things to prepare, people to call. You have my number, I'll call you. Is it good for you ?

His behaviour is screaming danger, on the other hand, a rendez-vous in a crowded shopping center at 3PM is not as risky as the bar. And if things turn bad, you still have a chance to run away, hidden in the mass. You hope the things he'll prepare will help you, and not worsen everything.

"Okay. You yield, once again.

-Thank you so much, he exclaimed." Why is he thanking you ? "You're a real sweetheart. It will be worth it."

And with these last words, he left.

You won't go. Of course you won't go damn, you don't want to die. He's so suspicious ! Why so much relief ? He's the one supposed to help you, you're not doing anything for him. You absolutely changed your mind. Yesterday, he was that nice man who saved your life, welcoming you home warmly. Today, he's, well, you don't know who he is anymore. You want to understand, discover what's wrong, but at the same time, it's not yours to do.

Fuck, you need to empty your mind. It's tiring, to be suspicious of everyone, to always have to thoroughly think about everything you do. You plop down on your couch, grabbing the remote and turning the TV on. There's a cartoon going on. Tom and Jerry, a cat chasing, or at least trying to, a mouse. But the mouse's well smarter than the cat. 

Each time he thinks he'll catch it, the mouse finds a way to turn the situation to his advantage. Because in fact, the cat will never win. He has the illusion of strength because of his height, when the mouse is vicious, malign. 

Also, if the cat caught the mouse, well, the show wouldn't have any interest anymore. 

On the screen, the mouse finds a way to slam the door in the cat face, who's dizzy. To illustrate it, stars and birds are rotating around his head.

You don't know why the mouse does all this, maybe to survive. The small animal found the comfort of a warm house with good cheese and doesn't want to leave. The cat, however, is forced to chase it all day. As his owners force him to. It's his role, as the house guard, to chase rodents. Otherwise, he'll be replaced. 

You have to be really damn fucked for you to start analyzing a stupid cartoon. 

Jeez, it's a cat chasing a mouse, it's silly, it's fun to watch. You don't think, just turn off your brain and have fun. Why can't you do just that ?

Sighing, you change channel, trying to find something worth watching. You end up watching the news, it keeping you grounded. It helps you think you're not the worst case, that there's always worse somewhere. It's deeply selfish, but hey, you can't do much about it. Your life is pretty much ruined at the moment. 

What's today's problem? Well this time, the subject is centered around climate change and its catastrophes.

"Global warming. Today, in Spain, alarming news. The national temperature has increased considerably by 46°F (5°C) since last year. The Spanish are revolted, the world is encountering a record in warmth. Their main claim, she reads her notes, "It's summer's weather when we're in autumn." She briefly gulps her saliva. "Indeed, the local heat reached 86°F (30°C) while 73°F (23°C) at night. IPCC's report is alarming, something has to change. Is the world government going to act ?" She quits her serious tone and changes the subject. "Local news; what's happening in Gotham today ?"

Ah, here you go. You turn up the volume. 

"Earlier in the main avenue today, several store signs were vandalized by a group of masked men, it is thought to be perpetrated by an illegal organization. It's a real raid that happened, terrorizing the passers-by and owners. The identity of the delinquent stays unfounded. We know that the police department is currently working on..."

You mute the TV. Vandalizing stores, now ? They didn't even steal anything, who does that ? On the screen, a replay of surveillance cameras showing masked men running, pushing people and only stopping to draw weird shapes on a few of the stores. It's bad, but not quite as bad as your case. Putting the sound back, you're perfectly timed with the conclusion of the event. 

"Where is Batman ? Has the vigilante abandoned our city ? We hope for his prompt return in time for him to apprehend the Joker." 

Batman, right. You forgot that man was even existing. While some wonder who is hiding behind the mask, you're left questioning yourself on which side is he. If he's with the cops, is he a good or bad man ? Police is part of the problem, certainly. But Batman sometimes helps people, although you never encountered him yourself. But is he really with the police ? 

Who is he working with ? And why is he what he is ?

"Whatever... You rub your eyes."

Why do you even keep thinking about that, it's not your problem anymore. You're leaving. Gotham has nothing left for you. Batman can do whatever he wants, for all you care. He doesn't know about your insignificant existence, why waste it thinking of him ? 

But are you really leaving this place, though ? 

Are you really about to leave your life and flee like a coward ? Yes, is the obvious answer. You could think about it, is the less obvious answer. 

Yes, your life is at stake. On the other hand, Sean could really be useful as you're still in danger as long as you stay in Gotham, he's a considerable ally in this story. And not only Sean but his family as well could help you. 

You know about his aunt. That woman is quite well known. A powerful gang chief. You could pay her to get escorted outside of Gotham. You're already indebted anyway, you have nothing to lose anymore. Moreover, nothing guarantees your safety once outside of Gotham. If the Joker is as feared as shown in the media, changing city won't be enough. Which is why you need to clear the problem directly from the root. 

Okay, you won't lose anything in going, right ? Maybe your life, but it's worth a try. You'll join Sean. Yes, you'll join him. 

When the time arrived, you couldn't shake that uneasy feeling taunting you all while preparing yourself. What if someone chases after you ? What if you get kidnapped ? You won't, of course you won't. Sean will be there when you arrive. He's dissuading enough. He's a big man. 

You found yourself before the gigantic mall before even being able to process it. It was crowded, people entering and getting out every second. For a moment, your eyes search for Sean in the rabble only to find no one. He's probably inside, it's safer. 

Tightly holding the hood stuck on your head, you stare intensely at whoever crosses your path, trying to gain enough courage to finally enter the building. 

It's scary to be wanted, the displeasing impression everyone's looking at you is suffocating. You could get killed, right now. Abducted, even. 

When the automated doors open, you're greeted by the cold air conditioning. It's autumn, why the hell would someone want to freeze to death ? 

Checking your phone, there's still no sign of Sean. He couldn't possibly stand you up, right ? He's the one who insisted for you to come. It wouldn't be logical. He's just late.

You can't really afford to be waiting in your situation, every second matters. You don't know what will happen. And, yeah, you're kind of starting to freak out. You don’t know where your wanted poster ended up. Maybe you’re already dead, and, shit, you're alone in such a vulnerable position. Fuck, why did you come ?

You’re trying to stay rational, thinking of every possibility as to why he’s not here. You nod your head to yourself, trying to ease your nerves. He'll come. You just need a little patience. He said he needed to prepare things beforehand, that's why he's late. He's late because he'll help you. 

You miss the mall, it's been long since you last came here, too preoccupied with your two jobs. You used to like watching people but quickly stopped. First, you once or twice made an awkwardly long eye contact with a man who then wanted to beat you up for provoking him, "like a pussy". Then, the second reason is that people are just... Mean. You'd look at a pretty woman only for her to spit on the ground. In the street is already disgusting enough, but the mall ! You'll look at a man hugging a woman, just to realize that they both don't know each other and that he's drunk out of his mind. 

Maybe you do need to get out of here, actually. 

Your phone still hasn't buzzed, you need to do something with your body or you’ll go crazy. It’s obvious staring daggers at your device every second won’t help. He's not here yet, you need to accept it and wait. You'll walk a little to not get noticed, your tensed and motionless body language is screaming suspicious and people are starting to side eye you. 

It’s only natural of your legs to start bringing you to the places you used to go to, only to realize that one of your favorite stores closed permanently. Of course, with the crisis. It’s not surprising. 

"Fucking morons..." Mutters a man to your left. Upon looking in his direction, you meet the owner of the voice standing on a stepladder, trying to energetically scrub with a sponge his store's sign. Key word being 'trying' as it's not successful. 

Right, earlier's vandals. 

He's cursing to himself, scrubbing progressively more aggressively the almost intact big black 'O' tagged on the sign mocking him. 

"Can I know who did that? asked your curiosity. 

-Fucking assholes, he answers without even looking your way, that's who did that. 

-What do they looked like ?

-No idea, he grumbles. They all had that stupid mask on. All white with some blue and red. No idea what that was supposed to be. Ask the other owners if you're so interested, but you're late. Journalists already left. 

Oh, right. He thinks you’re a journalist. 

-Thank you, have a nice day sir.

-Yeah yeah…”

You heard several stores were vandalized, where are the others ? Letting your legs wander, you get your answer a few meters/feet away. A sign is hanging by an electric thread. 

It’s a shoe store, but its signboard was now displaying a big black 'O'. You lift a brow, confused about its meaning. Usually, tag either insults or convey a message. Anyhow, there's a sense. Now though, you can't quite pinpoint it. O, what starts with an O. Optimism, oppression, obedient omelette ? It can be anything. Maybe it's not a letter, but a signature? 

Two stores away (you see it out of the corner of your eye) another of these is vandalized, this time, a bold 'B' was written. What word could this correspond to? B for Batman ? It's not a word, mostly a name. Baby, maybe. Bomb, bag, anything. Hell, it could even be badminton for all you know. 

Next letter is directly after the previous one, a 'S' hiding the dress logo the sign was exhibiting prior. The paint is dripping a little and one or two drops can be seen on the ground. 

"Those damn scum." a man grumbles, who you think might be the owner of the poor store. He crosses his arms on his chest, looking up disapprovingly. 

You ignore him, now thrilled by all of this. You want to discover all the tags. It's not like you have much better to do anyway. Sean still hasn't answered you. You know what to do to wait: find words for each letter. S makes you think of sabotage, skull and soup. 

You see the next letter from afar, this time, an "E" welcomes you. Though, this one was partially erased. You guess the owner found the right product. It's now possible to read the sign and enjoy the sweet sight of what seems to be a sex shop sign. Is it even legal ? There's kids coming into this mall. Anyway, a lot of words start with E; Electric, Ebola, education, eagle. 

You don't find the next letter right away, needing to walk a little to find it. But when you do, you're weirdly excited. It's just a bunch of words on some signboards, yet, it's fun. Like an orienteering race. But mostly because you don't get to have much fun today, and this being out of your quotidian, it's easy to be ecstatic.  

Further away, it's not one but two letters that greets you; two "S", entwined like snakes. Shit, is it a nazi kind of tag ? It looks like the police's symbol there was back then. If that’s the case, you don’t find this as exciting as before. Not a good thing to write. There's already so much chaos here, you pray nazis are not going to be added to it. You think of the word 'Swiss' for this letter.

Next letter is an 'I'. Investigation, investment, ice. A woman bypasses you, hitting your shoulder with her. You squeal out of surprise, the woman doesn't even notice you. What a shitty town. You check your phone again, making sure Sean didn't try to contact you. No reply. 

Walking ahead, the next vandalized store needs you to turn to the left to be seen, it's an 'O', again. But you don’t have the time to think of words that you already see the next letter. It’s a ‘N’. Night, Nemo (as in the movie) and nuisance. You already found words starting with ‘O’ anyway. It seems to be the last one as you walk and turn but no others appear. Disappointment lingers, sad it ended so soon. 

What is it, does it form a word at the end ? Like street art ? Maybe, a shame you already forgot all the previous letters. It was fun, though. You'd do it again, it's entertaining. Like a track game where you follow a path. Vibrations are bringing you back to reality, rushing to take it, you rotate to leave the place in order to find somewhere calmer. In your haste, you bump straight into someone. You freeze for a second, phone in hand.

They’re wearing a mask, a clown mask on their black hair. And a really ugly one. It’s shiny, like plastic and it surely is. Their eyes are the only thing you see through the holes. Whoever that is is staring right into your damn soul. Their eyes are empty, so empty you might think they’re on some kind of drug. The big red nose in the middle of their face is mocking you, laughing at you to be scared of something so ridiculous. Two small tufts of green hair are standing on each side of his head, the false bloody teeth drawn on the mask is the final touch that tells you to leave.

“Sorry.” you mumble, avoiding eye contact.

Your hands are holding your phone so tightly that fear strikes you that you could actually break the screen. The clown does not move when you walk past him, and you realize right then and there that they were well too close to you for it to be normal. You hate clowns, you hate them so much. All of this because of that stupid Joker. That person probably wasn’t even related to him, maybe he was one of the vandals. You don’t know, you don’t want to.

When you pick up Sean’s call, he apologizes for being late and plans an area for you to meet. You’re before the sex shope tagged by the “E” by the time Sean joins you. You’re not as convinced as before to destroy the problem from its root after the clown encounter. You’re not a hero, not a criminal. You’re nothing, you don’t have anything to prove to anybody. You should leave.

“You okay ? You look like you saw a ghost ? He laughs, but he’s not your friend so you don’t.

-So ? Got out much more coldly than you intended it to be.

-Jeez, you’re impatient. I’ll help you, I told you I would, right ?

You did, doesn’t mean you really will. You cross your arms on your chest, approaching him for him to hear you more clearly.

-Do you have any information ? Ways to get me out of here ? To resolve this ? Anything ?

He sighs, stepping back as if you’re the plague and looking elsewhere in the crowd. He seems conflicted, forehead creased by his worry.

-I can’t tell you now, walls have ears.

-Then why the fuck would you tell me to join you here ? If you’re so scared to be spied on, we could have continued this discussion at my place.

Your tension is building up. It’s fucking frustrating to talk with him. He starts teasing you with interesting information, then, he retreats and acts as if nothing happened and you’re just impatient. He told you to come here, he told you he’d help you.

-At least answer my questions, you plead, I don’t even know who… Who is the Joker ? Who is he exactly ? He physically tensed, his shoulders literally hunched forwards. What the hell ?

-Well, uh, it's complicated.

Damn, even that couldn’t be answered. Why are you still here ?

-What do you mean it's complicated ? Is he a terrorist ? A thief ? A gang leader ? A serial killer ? It's a simple question.

-He's a little bit of everything, truly.

Why does he always seem so nervous talking about him ?

-Sean for the love of God, he’s not here ! people are starting to look in your direction, but you couldn’t care less. You can calm down, he won’t kill you ! You gotta breathe a little, man. Aren’t you the one who literally told me he wasn’t after me ? It’s not the first time you’re lying to me and I’m starting to lose it. Why am I here ? Tell me, why are we fucking here if you’re not gonna help me ! Who is this man and what does he want ? Why does he want to kill me ! It’s…” a gunshot whistles in the air, cutting you in your sentence straight away, screams erupting from all sides.

Your body acts before you can think, throwing yourself on the ground. It’s hard to understand what’s going on, but in a way, you don’t try to. You get up quickly and lose yourself in the running and yelling crowd. Your paranoia is not helping, was this gunshot aimed at you ? Sean is somewhere in the mall, but it’s too late. You gave him a chance, he wasted it.

Another gunshot echoes, followed closely by the sound of a glass breaking. Your senses are overwhelmed; names, insults, orders are being yelled. Is the Joker here ? You need to get out of here, now. Bodies are pushed against yours, your clothes are being tugged on. But when you were about to reach the exit, someone harshly grabs you out of the crowd, pulling you aside. It’s panic in your head, survival instinct kicking in. You yank your arm out of the person’s hold but freeze upon seeing Sean threaten you with a gun.

“Sean, you start with a shaky voice, what the fuck ? his eyes are cold, you don’t recognize him. He looks at you as if you're nothing, as if you're no one.

-He’s here, he states, looking paranoidly to the sides. He’s… He’s going to kill me if I don’t bring you to him.

-Bring me to who, Sean ? But you fear you might already know.

-The Joker.

Of course he’d betray you. Who are you kidding ? You knew, you knew he would trap you. Your eyes can’t leave the sight of the gun barrel, following each of its movements. He’s shaking, you realize. Is he scared, hesitating ? Or motivated by a hatred so pure he can’t even control his own feelings ?

-Sean, you try nonetheless, he’ll kill you either way okay ? He’s a sadist, we can… you gulp, throat suddenly burning dry. We can leave together, we’ll leave the city and…

-You don’t understand, do you ? He’ll track you, he’ll track us down. And then, he’ll slaughter us like pigs. You hear me ? He’ll slaught…

-I get it ! I get it ! you scream, shutting your eyes in order to erase those images from your head.

How can you even change his mind ? You doubt he’d fold with some speech about your friendship. It’s not like you two were that close to be honest. Sure, you liked him but that changed since the beginning of the Joker catastrophe.

-He promised me money, he explained himself. As if you’d forgive him after hearing his justification. A lot of money. You can’t understand what it’s like to… when you see him lower his weapon, you interrupt him, drived by your anger.

-How can you be so stupid ? He was, he truly was an idiot for believing the Joker. You haven’t known that beast for long, but each time someone defined him, it was always along the lines of wicked, treacherous, vicious and ruthless. So yeah, he was stupid. Was your life worth something as insignificant as money ? Has he ever liked you ?

-Shut up ! I’m done living like a fucking tramp !

Tramp is a big word coming from him, daddy pays him everything ! You’re tired of his tantrums, he is a grown man, ten or fifteen years older than you and he’s acting like a child. Suffering is your quotidian as well, but you would’ve never betrayed him. In fact, that is your problem. You’re not a scumbag like him, that’s why you can’t stand him. You have no value similar to his, if he even has some. By what right does he think he can use you to get, what, a few dirty money ?

If you're going to die, at least you'll die telling him every resentment you had towards him.

-You think I am happy ?! Your life’s better than mine ! Fuck you Sean, you’re an asshole ! You’re a fucking asshole ! You’re the one that should die !

-Shut the fuck up you whore !

A burning pain sliced through you along a sharp sound, legs losing all strength and making you fall on the ground. Your ears are ringing and your breath is cut for a few long seconds. What happened ? Is the first question popping in your head, but the atrocious pain coursing through your leg answers you. Your hand touches your hurting limb, but retreats it instantly at the pain. So you look down.

Blood, there’s blood everywhere.

It’s yours. It’s… It’s your damn blood, you’re bleeding. You have a hole in your leg and it’s gushing out blood. He shot you. Fuck, oh God, oh God, you’re bleeding. You’re fucking bleeding and it hurt like hell. It hurt so damn bad, why, why did he do that ? Your eyes are stinging and soon, tears fall down your cheeks. Are you going to die ? Here ? With nothing accomplished ? Alone ? Shot by the only man you thought was your friend ?

-I believe alive was written on the contract.

You recognize that voice, you hear it in your nightmares.

-Joker ! I… She tried to run away, I had to immobilize her !

It’s weird, your body is exhausted, yet, the pain is keeping you well awake. Your head is heavy when you lay it on the dirty ground of the mall. Eyes trailing slowly to the two men talking. Finally, he’s here before you. He’s shown himself. Even if it’s only the second time you see him, you talked and heard about him so much these past hours it feels like you’ve been with him for months. And maybe you were, in a way. Sean walks past you, not glancing towards your drained body on the ground. He’s scared of him. He plays the big man with you, but he’s a little bitch.

How is Sean, a man built like a fridge, so terrified of someone so ridiculous as the Joker ?

Who is he ?

The pain in your leg makes it feel numb and at the same as alive as it never been. The Joker sighs exaggeratedly, he tilts his head to the side to look at you. Shivers shake your whole body. Is that it ? This is the man who’ll abduct you ? You’d rather get killed instantly.

-And right on Valentine’s day...” mumbles the Joker.

It’s not, it’s autumn. Valentine’s day is in February, in winter. From your position, police sirens are heard and red and blue lights are flashing, reflecting on the windows. The Joker takes out a gun out of his long purple jacket and aims it towards Sean.

“Please ! He yells. I-I did what you wanted ! She’s here, please don’t kill me ! I’m a hitman, I’ll work for you !

Is he, now ? He's barely a barman.

-Do I look like I'm searching for employees ? He asks, opening his arms and bending his hands for his palms to face the ceiling before looking around him for confirmation. Because I’m not.”

You're torn between relief and horror at the sight of Sean falling to the ground after another gunshot, bathing in his own blood. He did betray you, he brought you here, he brought this upon you, upon himself. But he’s dead. You wished him to, but now that he is you’re horrified.

It’s then that you realize that The Joker is surrounded by his masked goons. Probably the one who vandalized the store, now that you think about it. You walked right into his trap.

“Well ? What are you waiting for ? he asks almost comically. Bring the package to the car !

When several men surrounds you, you're left yelling and fighting to get out of their holds, in vain, of course. The blood gushing out of your hurting limb isn't helping much, anyway. You feel your strength slowly evaporate from you.

Shotguns echoes, but your ringing ears prevent you to precisely locate it. Soon, they throw you in the back of a car and close the door, leaving you in the dark.

Gotham killed you.  

[nattinatalia]

Jack Harlow x Reader : FOOTBALL SZN

Football season was officially back, so that meant loud men yelling at the television, food and lots and lots of beers for your husband and your friends.

You were currently in the kitchen prepping the appetizers for everyone when your daughter walks in.

“Momma have you seen my swear jar?” She asks

“Umm yes it’s up here.” You tell her in confusion as you open the bowl cabinet and reach for her jar.

You turn around and face her “Porque lo necesitas? Why do you need it bug?” You ask and hand it to her.

She smiles “Mommy, Nino Urby and uncle Druski say lots of naughty words. I hear daddy say they're gonna watch sports” she shrugs

“I’m getting my jar ready is all” she goes to walk away but stops half way “Gracias” and she continues on her way.

You laugh to yourself and continue with the food.

“What has you smiling to yourself little weirdo” Your husband asks, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind.

“Your daughter”

He hums as he places kisses on your neck “What did that little one do now?”

“She’s a hustler like her daddy, she’s getting her swear jar ready for you boys.”

He pulls back and leans against the sink “Oh she’s smart” he smirks

The doorbell rings so he makes his way towards the living room.

“That’s Nino and Uncle Avatar.” Mía yells and goes to the door

Jack laughs to himself because he knows damn well where, preferably, who she got that nickname from.

“Mia, you don’t open the door without mommy or me.”

She stops “Sorry”

“It’s ok bug, also before I let those losers in, Did your Nina tell you to call uncle Avatar?” He ask’s, knowing the answer already.

She shrugs, “It’s funny. But I won’t call him that if it makes him sad.”

“It’s ok baby” He smiles at her

“Hey fucker, Open the door, beers are getting warm.” Urban yells from the other side of the door

Mia and Jack look at each other “Go get it”

She runs back to the living room while Jack opens the door to let them in.

“Why do you look so smug for ?” Urban asks as he walks in.

Jack smiles wide “You’ll see.”

Then Mia comes running back with her jar and opens it “Empty your pockets Nino.”

“Why?”

“We heard you say a bad word.” She smiles up at her godfather. “You know the rules.”

“Oh you sneaky little girl, you’re good.” He goes to pull out his wallet and hands her a dollar bill.

Mia smiles as they all walk towards the living room.

“So I’ll leave this here.” She places the jar on the coffee table “You pay up when you yell a bad word at the tv.”

“Damn Mia, you have a plan and everything huh?” Clay says as he comes down the stairs

“Yup.” She faces her dad “If I get enough can I buy the new monster high doll?”

Jack nods “Only if you have enough, that was the deal.”

She smiles and goes up to Urban “If you want to say lots of naughty words, it’s ok, I’ll cover my ears.”

They all laugh “Ok princess, I’ll give you our signal.”

Hours has passed and the entire of Private Garden, plus Druski were now all scattered in the living room.

Beers empty, food almost gone, but the rowdy ness, at it’s highest.

“Oh come on that is total bullshit” you hear Jack yell

That’s when Mia gasps “Mommy did you hear that?”

You nod “I totally did bug.” You say as you both walk into the living room.

“For fucks sake, catch the damn ball.” Your husband yells again.

You cough “Jackman.”

He looks your way “Huh, yes baby?”

You point at a smiling Mia “Daddy, you said really bad, naughty words.”

She goes to grab her jar “All of you are naughty, thank you for the money. I get to buy lots and lots of dolls.”

She goes up to Jack “Pay up please.”

Everyone laughs

“She got your ass there Jack.”

“Idiot, that's more money in.”

“I think idiot is considered a bad word, at least for kids.”

“Who came up with this stupid rule anyway?” Jack asks as he places twenty dollars in her jar.

“YOU.” Everyone yells at him.

“Daddy, that's another one.” Mia giggles with her little palm covering her mouth.

Jack groans “Little girl, you’re going to make me go broke.” and places another twenty in her jar.

Mia looks up at you after she sees her jar is overflowing “I love sports night momma.”

You all laugh “Yeah bug, I can tell.”

It’s safe to say the next day Mia made her parents take her to Target in search of her dolls.

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[eighthdoctor]

Maximianus Philophonos Bard 11/Rogue 1

Because we're at the end of the campaign, I wanted to write up a little bit about Max.

Max started as a combo of two A+ tier ideas:

A charisma caster but the charisma is "the most pathetic little man you've ever seen, you can't possibly say no"

A bard who thought being a bard was like being a professional musician and is shocked to find out that it is not, in fact, at all like being a professional musician.

The other thing going into Max is (before naming him, the name is only accidentally a pun) I wanted to abuse the shit out of the bard class. Minmax that fucker. Dating the DM is an excellent method for getting away with this. Turns out a single level in rogue gets you some expertise (2x proficiency bonus to some skills) which you then get MORE of with bard levels, and eventually bard gets you jack of all trades (1/2 proficiency to anything you're not proficient in) meaning that most of his skill checks are something like +5.

So out of universe I needed a guy whose first level was in rogue, remainder in bard, a classic pathetic little wet rat of a man, who is both wildly talented and also just. Completely incapable of using that for malicious OOC purposes otherwise my wife would kill me.

What I wound up with is someone who has crippling anxiety. Max is very nearly too anxious to function in society, gets outsize sympathy for it, and really can only do social interactions in the framework of performances.

See, at about 18 Max went to magical Juilliard to become first violin in the Requiem City Orchestra. After the first semester he realized two things:

Magical Juliliard is not really Juilliard at all, but more like the CIA academy if they also taught music.

He's trans. (Sidebar: He does not actually have a deadname. Maximianus is his stage performance name that he just sort of. Went with. After coming out.)

This is all hideously awkward and embarrassing and he has multiple fullblown panic attacks about the first thing.

Max's family is huge and overbearing and supportive and he doesn't really want to come out to them because it will be a Whole Thing TM and he is so, so, so bad about receiving affection, and he really doesn't want to tell them about the school mixup because then he's wasted their money and they'll never ever ever say anything about it but he's just a drain on their resources and also everyone will be so caring, so sympathetic, poor kid, homecooked meals for months, mom knocking on the door every day to see if he's still crying--

So he goes no-contact. To avoid explaining why he's dropping out of school.

He did accomplish one thing in that semester though, and that was making friends with a tabaxi student named Ihava (Ihava Nayme, because Jo mistakenly didn't give her a name and we promptly engaged her in conversation and also a subplot). Ihava is a budding revolutionary and realized that (a) Max totally has subversive tendencies and (b) the ability to baldfaced lie to cops and make the cops feel bad for you is priceless.

That's how Max got involved in a budding insurgency, and over the following year or so took his first class in rogue. Some theft, but mostly just skulking around, standing watch for others, passing info, etc.

Then he got itchy feet--Requiem isn't tiny but a year trying to avoid contact with any relatives, your luck will run out eventually, and Max is also just. He's not flighty but he does like novelty, and at some point the Violet Guard were gonna figure out that this kid was turning up at a lot of crime scenes. So he dropped a letter to the family (identity crisis etc graduated early etc going off to join the circus don't worry about me), and really just started moving across the country, working as a travelling minstrel.

He very rarely pays full room & board, instead playing for his dinner. He eventually washed up in Suncrest, and met the rest of the party when the tavern down the street [checks notes] exploded.

And this is where he really started taking off, because Max is two very cool things in one package:

He is just a good kid. When asked by a NPC why we were putting so much effort into helping her, his immediate, honest answer was "how could we not?" and he stands by that 11 levels later. He's somehow remained mostly Lawful Good despite some VERY sketchy actions, because at his core he wants to help people, and he wants to do so within a strict code of morals. They're just...sometimes unusual.

He's also got a VERY nasty imagination and will put his spell list to work in deeply creative (and fucked up) ways.

As an example. At level 4, Max got the second level spell Phantasmal Force, which lets you convince one being that Something Exists. This is obviously a spell mostly constrained by the player's creativity.

Also at level 4 Jo dropped us in a dungeon at the bottom of which was a Young Blue Dragon. This was moderately outleveled for the party and we should have fucked off.

Instead Max went "hey is that a male dragon" and the DM said yes, and Max mindfucked the dragon into thinking there was a Young Red (male) Dragon coming into HIS LAIR, and then the dragon spent multiple rounds trying to fight the illusion and we completely killed a dragon without major injury at level 4.

This became Max's Thing: Using his spell slots to wildly outsize effect, through monopolizing a major enemy, convincing NPCs to let us go where we really should not go, utilizing cold iron + animate objects to do serious damage to the Wild Hunt...

He didn't usually do the most damage and he didn't often get the kill shot, but he was doing battlefield control. A lot.

And so then we come to the final arc. Jo wrote up the bit about the Wish spell here. (I need to add that once again we fucked up her plans, because of COURSE the WIZARD would attune to the STAFF OF THREE WISHES, and no. Consensus was to let Max do it because Max is the words person. This worked out very well, see here.)

But just. You have the world's most anxious bard. He didn't even want to be A Bard, he wanted to be a musician. He also has a mindblowingly powerful artifact.

For over a minute, Max had to maintain perfect concentration to save the world. A friend died in that minute. Multiple friends fell unconscious and had to be revived (mostly by Max). Almost everyone in the party temporarily incapacitated themself (see here) to ensure that he passed Concentration saves he should have failed.

There's a massive battle going on entirely around Max. He is the focal point of everything. Everyone he loves is risking literally everything to keep him focused, and he spends most of it in a pocket dimension trying to keep breathing. He's channelling impossible power to try and fix the converging planes and defeat the Summer Queen, and he can only do this by not fighting, by hiding away and curling up tight and thinking very, very hard.

And he does it. He succeeds. We find out tomorrow what that looks like but god damn I am proud of my boy.

[magewolf-the-artist]

Domestic K-9: The Worst Pokemon Evolutions Ever

Oh boy, time to explore the ramifications of trauma and how it impacts people!

(Note: I do NOT have trauma or PTSD, although I've done a fuck ton of research on the subject for a different story and am applying the things I learned here. If anybody with any kind of trauma or PTSD spots any inaccuracies, please please PLEASE feel free to let me know. I wish to portray these issues with as much care and respect as possible)

So here I've display the three, I guess, stages of these fuckers. Life, the immediate response to, y'know, everything, and how they're holding up now. Except for Rosemary because I'm kind of an asshole to my blorbos. But obviously with Charles and Susan, they are not in any way "fixed" or even "healed" from their trauma, they moreso stabilized and got used to it. And now let's finally get into it!

SUSAN WOODINGS: So in life, Susan was generally closed off except for a select few amount of people and, while she could be snippy, she was actually pretty chill despite always looking like she wants to murder everybody in the general vicinity. Basically she looks a lot meaner than she actually is.

In death though, that's a completely different story. For the first year or so she had an EXPLOSIVE temper and would blow up over the smallest things, like a powder keg kept near sparklers. If the facility had a swear jar and money, she probably could've funded college for Sophie, Edd, AND Molly. She said many hurtful and cruel things to people she was close to (mostly Charles) that she now deeply regrets. It's all water under the bridge at this point but it still sometimes keeps her up at night.

As of the current point in the timeline, she's since calmed down quite a bit. She's less likely to snap over small shit unless it's Bon, to which she will gladly be just as bitchy as she was. She does have bad days though and is generally much more easily irritated and snippy.

CHARLES BROOK: In life, Charles is the ultimate dad. Easy going, friendly, very jokey, admittedly kinda naive, loves his kid. In death... well...

When they first got to the facility, he was an absolute wreck. He had resisted giving into Bon up until the point where he was starting to fade and, absolutely terrified of the idea of being Thanos snapped out of existence, reluctantly possessed the Boozoo animatronic. But even still he deeply regretted that choice. As well as that, he was extremely distraught about leaving his daughter and wife behind, on Lily's birthday no less, and that he was never found. He spent the first several weeks consumed by the intense misery and grief and was incoherent at best and delusional at worst. As previously mentioned, he got it into his head at some point that if he could just break down the walls, he could escape and constantly flung himself into the solid concrete walls. It didn't help that Susan wasn't terribly understanding and had little patience for this.

After a few weeks passed though, he began to stabilize and was generally able to recover a semblance of his goofy, friendly personality. That's not to say the trauma hasn't impact that though; he has to constantly distract himself or else he'll have a full on breakdown and desperately tries to change the topic whenever his death or his family is brought up. He and Susan have also since smoothed things over and Charles holds no resentment towards her now.

ROSEMARY WALTEN: Everyone's favorite sad mom!

So in life, Rose was generally kind, caring, humble, creative, and introverted, although she had come out of her shell since her younger years and was perfectly capable of being social.

But in death... hooooo boy, buckle up chucklefucks, 'cause this is gonna get SAD

As previously mentioned, Rosemary is a mess. Constantly crying, completely drawing into herself, rarely speaks to anybody but Rocket, and is unable to bring herself to do anything outside of draw, think, or cry. She's kinda just frozen in time, unable to stabilize like Charles and Susan, which is why she has no stage 3. The closest thing to that I can confidently say she's gotten is pouring herself into her art and caring for Rocket, but even still it's not much.