body rocking

somewhere, in a better gotham, the joker was born a woman, with eyes like candy apples, smooth skin. babysoft. 

in the gotham we know, the joker fell into a pit of toxic waste and turned green with envy. in this gotham, the better one, the joker is a tall, thin lady walking down the street. “smile, pretty” follows in her footsteps. when she stands at open mic laughter nights, she’s heckled from the crowd. they won’t smile for her but they resent her frown. 

her mother says that her best feature is her body. the joker spends hours staring in mirrors. picturing a trophy-wife kind of life. smile, pretty. smile pretty. smile. pretty. she’s sixteen the first time she tapes her lips up, just to see if she can teach her skin to learn the shape better. your teeth are your best feature. in the wild, smiling is a sign of fear.

she’s twenty and lives alone with her dog and tries to be okay with that. another night where she’s losing money on transportation, but she goes to the open mic anyway. the guy before her talks about airline food. she gets on the stage and immediately booed. and it’s years like this, in a pattern, in the weave of her passion, so that every night is thrown beer bottles and shouting and comments that make her sick to her stomach and being told she’s nothing special and being told women aren’t funny and being told her voice is shrill and ugly and being told when she’s too animated that she’s crazy and being told when she’s too stiff that she’s boring and being asked out by every single sleeze in the zip code and being shouted at when she says no and the neverending tumble of it because maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe tomorrow will be better, maybe tomorrow

he comes up on stage with her and soaks her shirt in beer. now that’s a show! the man calls. he gets cheers. she doesn’t cry, just walks out the back door before doing something stupid. the manager pats her on the head while she leaves. it’s okay, darling. he looks her over. i don’t get it. a body like yours? you should be an exotic dancer. comedy isn’t for everybody. you’re not funny, sweetie.

she’s not funny. not funny. not funny. the words turn alarm bells. the one thing she’s supposed to be talented at. the one thing she loves is just to make people laugh. and she’s not even funny.

hey you know what’s kind of funny? the way it feels at the bottom. how flat everything turns. how unreal. she skims like a rock. your body is your best feature. she tries again on monday. “you know what’s funny? i thought about murder the other day”. don’t we all, sweetie. on the bus, come home with me. on the street, why aren’t you smiling.

maybe some people are born close to the camel’s back, maybe some people have just always been looking for the straw. it’s too much in either direction. she goes home and smears makeup on her skin. tears her hair off. dyes it green, a shock, to match her eyes and spite and envy at men who can tell the same jokes and get laughter for it where she gets nothing and nothing and nothing, where she is pushed off of stages, where she is mocked.

well, isn’t it her turn to do the mocking.

in this story, in this better gotham where vigilante is sometimes good, sometimes a few letters from villain: who will stop her? in this life, when harley walks in, the two are different, best friends, sugar-on-pie because isn’t it true the world has it out for women. in this life, when harley shows up with hyenas, the joker thinks about the wild and the laws of it and says, “oh, of course, let them in”. in this life the violence has a name. 

and nobody says it without laughing.

Ivar the Boneless x Reader
Ivar is having dreams of you, of the goddess he sees on walking his nights. You prove him things, show him things and he can’t handle your ways or the fact they are just dreams. Until one day battle proves him wrong.

Request for: @kolvanismirk
Warnings: Smut - Violence - Ivar point of view
Words: 3535

Taglist: @missbrightlyred @itharley @burningsunshin3 @float-autumn-leave @inthenameofodin @zombie-zayde @decaffeinatedeaglefart @nothingbuthappydays @dani-si @ivarbarnes @supervalcsi @sweetvengeancee @mysticsthinking @odins-missing-eye @kirah34 @laketaj24 @tiredofthisgeneration @mcuimxgine @sugakookiexx @dangerousvikings @natmors


Dreams should supposed to be dreams, drawings of ones deepest desires and thoughts. This wasn’t that, this was a vivid as a stormy night on sea, this was warm and alive, more alive than every time he dreamed about you before. Your shadow danced on the fire before his tent, walking on your tips, graceful, balanced you came into his eye sight. Ever since you entered his dreams you left him speechless, he was gazing at you, feeling the insecurity crawl through his chest as he looked up to you.
‘Ivar.’ You smiled to him, a smile he couldn’t place. A smile that wasn’t charming or graceful, not seductive or gentle. It was a smile containing all of that and he pulled the corner of his lips up in a short tug. ‘Did you miss me?’ You tilted your head. You were looking to the way he pulled his body up on his hands, how he rested his back against the headboard. As a king he desired much, he desired you but it didn’t left his lips as your fingers scour over the sheets that covered his legs. He looked down to the edges of his small miserable legs, trying to figure out maybe why they were so miserable and why you were here again, in his dreams.
‘Who are you?’ He asked, looking up to you, a woman dressed in a light dress, with flowers braided through your hair. He almost found it to be godlessly. It had to have a meaning, all of this, you visiting his dreams, but without asking he wouldn’t know … now he was asking.
‘I’m here to help you King Ivar, I’m here to lead you the way.’ You answered him, crouching down aside the bed to grace him with one of your elegant smiles.
‘I don’t need guidance.’ He found his voice to be harder, maybe annoyed by the fact you were talking riddles to him.
‘You need some things at least, reassurance, prove.’ You’re fingers scour over the fabrics that covered his legs. He tensed, looking confused, looking lost as he felt something change within him.
‘Prove of what?’ He shifted his deep blue eyes back on yours and you lifted your fingers up from his legs.
‘Prove of enjoyment, pleasure.’ You answered him honestly. It didn’t took him long before he knew where you were talking about and his eyes shifted back to his legs as you stood up.
‘I can’t,’
‘It’s just a dream right? Isn’t that what you always say?’ You asked him polite. Ivar looked aside, to the way you crumbled your dress between your fingers up before you straddled yourself down over his lap. Ivar gasped, feeling the vibration of your weight spreading a certain warmth throughout his body. It was a dream, it was just a dream. ‘Are you going to let yourself define by one slave?’ You asked him, fingertips resting against his jaws. Ivar looked to the middle of your throat before he slowly looked up to you. He felt his hate, his misery after what happened with Margrethe. The rumors that he couldn’t please a woman where hardly a part of his rage these days. He was born to lead but apparently he needed to do that without a son to give his legacy to. Despite you foresaw otherwise. He rolled his jaws while looking into your eyes. You smiled again, lowering your lips down to his. How could this felt so real? The pressure, the taste, Ivar shivered throughout his body while you moved your lips. The uncertainty, the feelings of them pulling him back now. He grabbed your shoulder, pushing you back.
‘You are not real.’ He hissed between his lips.
‘Is that what you think? Or is that what you want to believe?’ You ask him, digging your nail in his chest, pulling it down so he had a feel of reality.
‘You are not real.’ He repeated again, angry on himself on letting this happen. Why where you always returning in his dreams, where you a goddess guiding him through or where you just a fragment of his desires. You nodded, almost respectfully before clipping the leaf formed clips lose from your shoulders. The dress stroke in a fluent motion down over your body, assembling around your hips. His jaws clenched as he took in a breath, looking over your nakedness in this dark night. ‘I’m as real as you let me Ivar, let a dream not stop you from greatness, taste it.’ You gestured, moving your hips a little deeper in his lap. He gasped, feeling his body reacted on what he saw and felt. You were bringing your head back closer and he let you. His fingers found the naked skin of your side before sliding to the back, lifting all the way up over your spine. Feeling your lips, feeling your movements, it wasn’t real. But he let it, he grabbed for your hair at the back, pulling at it so your head kicked up, his lips leaving traces over your neck. The soft sign leaving your lips encouraged him. Ivar never felt like he felt now. His free hand touched your breast before he took it and knead it between his hand. Your reacting, the little moan, the way you rocked your hips slowly into his left him speechless for he felt something react of his own. He grabbed you around you waist turning so you landed with your back in the bed. His hand grabbed for your throat, not knowing how to act on the madness of this dream, not knowing how to feel about his own body. There was so much uncertainty that it made him angry. He clenched his fingers around your throat, hissing before pulling your head up and slamming it back in the bed.
‘You are not real!’ He growled, wanting to see you turn red for the lack of oxygen. But it was a dream and you just smiled, finger raking over his body, grabbing between his legs to what was hard and ready. He shivered, his whole body burning before he lowered his head again and kissed your lips. He left your throat, fingers eagerly grabbing into your skin, into your breasts, almost aggressively.
‘This is you Ivar, fully alive.’ You panted against his lips as he ripped the dress from around your waist. You made him feel alive, for the first time a dream came actually true and it wasn’t even real. He felt the pulse between his disturb legs, he felt the sweat covering his forehead, he saw you close your eyes, moaning when his fingers pinched the soft flesh between your legs. There wasn’t a foreplay in all of this, he felt alive and he wanted this, he wanted this since he chocked Margrethe to silence. That damn slave. His mouth became intoxication, biting down your skin, rocking against you while you started to erase the cloths from his body. He was dreaming, he was dreaming, he kept repeating that when he slammed himself inside of you, opening his own mouth for the impact he brought down on your body. ‘You can, you see?’ You panted, proving him what he could do. Ivar hissed, grabbing for your hair as he moved his body into yours, over and over. Enjoying the ring of his own voice over your lips, enjoying the screams out of your throat. He enjoyed the feeling, how it felt being inside a woman. He grunted, going hard, leaving marks on your body while you scratched your nails over his chest, red marks starting to bleed. ‘You can, you will, you are the greatest King walking this earth and this is just,’ you moaned through your words, feeling the heights turning around in your body. With one last rock he came, grunting like a wild beast he dropped down on you. You strangled your fingers through his hair. ‘let me prove that to you my king.’ You whispered in his ear, fully out of breath. He turned his head, a nose stroking against your cheek as he looked into your bright eyes from aside.
‘How can I believe a goddess like you if this all is a dream?’
‘Because we will meet again.’

Keep reading

It’s Time for Stimming Positivity!

If you rock by turning your body-

Or by shifting your weight from side to side-

If you flap your hands with stiff wrists-

Or with loose wrists-

You’re great! Body stims are amazing. Kinesthetic stims are a great way to regulate your senses, and they need to be recognized as a good thing. Just because they’re not “cute” stims like glitter or slime or frosting, that doesn’t mean they’re not beautiful and useful and good for you. You’re the only one who knows what kind of stims help you.

Yes, these are GIFS of me.

[Description: (First GIF) A person with glasses and a chewy necklace holds two stuffed animals, a teddy bear and a lamb, while turning quickly back and forth. They then move the head of the lamb stuffie and bury their face in it and rock slightly forward.

(Second GIF) The same person rocks slowly from one side to another with their knees pulled up to their chest and one arm wrapped around them. They drop their head onto the teddy bear and lamb while chewing on their necklace.

(Third Gif) The person flaps their hands for several seconds with stiff wrists, fingers curved slightly backwards. They then cover their mouth, which is still occupied by their chewy necklace, and their nose with their hands and turn quickly from side to side.

(Fourth Gif) The person leans forward to the camera, having dropped their chewy necklace immediately prior, and places it back in their mouth. They then lean back and flap their hands with loose wrists quickly.]

- Mod Ash

Awkward flapping and rocking from an awkward boy

Gif description:
{There is a white trans boy with short black hair and a black beanie on, he is wearing large black circle glasses and a bat chewy necklace, a grey sweatshirt with unreadable navy blue text on it and a navy blue with green plaid button up. He is standing and rocking side to side and flapping is hands with his arms pulled up to his chest.}