Memes ;; Slurred Words - Tumblr Posts
Slurred speech [batman is a byproduct of a CIA experiment]
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
“You can think I’m crazy all you want but I’m telling you what I’ve seen, doc - that thing ain’t human!” Roman growled, his grip articulate as ever as he downed another burning shot of strong whiskey. How many he’d had he’d quite forgotten but it was a lot, enough to loosen his tongue around Crane and speak his mind about some of the stranger thoughts he’d been harbouring for a while now. Few things in Gotham were more mysterious than Batman and Roman Sionis had more than his fair share of run-in’s with the caped vigilante who’d sworn to protect the crime-ridden city. "Look... I’ve seen a lot of weird shit happen in this city over the years. The Batman, though? Nothing’s fucking weirder than that and I should know! I’ve seen him, fought the bastard too! I’ve slaughtered men like dogs but him? That fucker can take down whole gangs single-handedly with just some... tools, this hi-tech gadget shit the fucking CIA probably made! Don’t even bother telling me otherwise, you can’t find that crap for sale anywhere, not even on the black market! What else? Oh yeah, the way he just fucking... disappears into the shadows, even when you’re looking right at him! The hell’s that all about? Some sort of cloaking technology or... or something more?” He chased down another shot, the liqueur giving him fresh fire and energy to continue his rant. "Can’t tell you h-how many times I’ve shot that fucking bat - and still he comes back for more! No. There’s no way that thing is human, not an ordinary man anyway. ‘Sides, I’ve killed enough men to know better.”
slurred words for jason
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
“Fucking prick!” Roman spat, clutching his drink so hard the glass threatened to shatter between his fingers. Of all the names he loathed, Red Hood ranked right up there. “Who the fuck does he think he is, strolling into Gotham... strolling into MY area no less?? I was here way before that little shithead was even a thought in anybody’s head and all of a sudden he’s getting into my business and taking over!? Well fuck that, and fuck him too for that matter!” The glass that had previously threatened to shatter in his hand suddenly found itself shattering against the wall as he flung his drink away in disgust, sending glass and remnants of whiskey spraying across the wall before sliding down to the floor in slow trickles. Roman snarled in anger, furious at Red Hood for all the business deals he’d ruined and the men he’d killed, but especially in being the cause of losing a good drink just now. Stalking over to the now ruined shot glass, Roman picked up the largest fragment of jagged glass, admiring the sharp edge gleaming in the light. “That Red Hood thinks he’s such a big shot but I’ll tell you one thing... he’s just a jumped up little boy way in over his head. I’ve been playing this game way longer than he’s been around. He’ll slip up sooner or later. He’ll get too cocky and when he does, I’ll be waiting...” Roman eyed the glittering fragment, turning it over in his hand until the point faced upwards as though he were holding a shiv. Glass he’d found was quite the fun material to use in torture sessions, ever so breakable but very, very painful.
“slurred words” about Bruce Wayne. The reclusive billionaire.
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
“Bruce Wayne? Never fucking liked him from the day we met! Would have made my year if he’d ended up the same way as mommy and daddy dearest back when they got shot full of lead but hey, can’t win ‘em all!” Roman jeered, his tongue full of spite as much as there was whiskey in his system. He knocked back another mouthful, relishing the burn of alcohol slipping down his throat before he contemplated on the nature of the reclusive billionaire. Of all the people he hated, Bruce Wayne took the crown like no other. The so-callled ‘Prince of Gotham’, as the man had been so endearingly knighted by the city’s elites and media tycoons, looked upon the surviving Wayne as a tragic, albeit mysterious figure. He hadn’t always been so secretive, shut up inside his big old mansion doing god knows what. Before the murders, before the city streets had grown as dark and dangerous as they were nowadays, Bruce Wayne had been just like any other upper-class child with too much money and a family name to fall back on. Roman had met a few given his parent’s connections as wealthy CEO’s but it was Bruce they’d gushed over, despite all the nasty things they’d said about the Waynes behind closed doors. Roman had never been able to understand it, how his parents could have wanted to emulate such boring people yet held them in such contempt behind closed doors. As far as he was concerned they were one and the same, wearing masks to hide their true nature from one another. Bruce was surely no different, every bit as high and mighty as the filthy politicians and old money currently lording it over Gotham. "The fuck’s his problem anyway? The day my parents died was the greatest day of my life! He didn’t have to wait long for them to pop their clogs before inheriting all that wealth and everything else in their will. If I were Bruce Wayne, I’d be partying it up every single night but boo hoo, instead he hides away inside his home so nothing else gets to him ever again! What a loser.” He swallowed the last mouthful left in his glass but there was a bitter edge to the taste now, dark and cloying upon his tongue. It burned more too, the searing sensation in his stomach matched only by the anger he felt inside his chest whenever he thought about the reclusive billionaire, feelings of envy and hatred still burning so strongly even though it had been many years since they’d last met. "Shame the Riddler’s bomb didn’t get him too. Some peoeple have all the luck.”
slurred words ( if you’re still accepting )
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
“You know, that’s another thing that Red Hood did which royally pissed me off... stealing all my goddamn Kryptonite!” Roman spat in anger. Did that no-good punk have any idea how tough it had been getting ahold of all those pretty rocks? Almost certainly. In fact it had been one of his most expensive purchases to date, moreso than any other cargo consisting of military-grade weaponry and drugs. Pure Kryptonite was worth more than it’s weight in gold, despite being utterly useless outside of dealing with one specific person. ”So what if it’s not my usual modus operandi to be smuggling alien minerals? When there’s something out there that’s capable of doing all sorts of things no ordinary human being is capable of, you damn well want an ace up your sleeve in case he decides to go off his rocker someday and comes after you! Have you seen what Superman can do? He can fly, shoot lasers out of his eyes even! Don’t even get me started on him grabbing planes out of the sky! How’s a guy supposed to stand up against that? I’ll tell you how - with the one thing you know the bastard’s weak against, that’s how.” It hadn’t been easy on his wallet getting ahold of the fabled minerals, but Roman Sionis knew better than to wait and see. Even though he wasn’t native to Metropolis, Superman was one of the world’s most well-known superheroes for a damn good reason. The Man of Steel was powerful, sickeningly sweet and saccharine as he was. He much rather preferred dealing with the bat, dour though he was in a case of better the devil you know than the devil you don’t. Batman was, for the most part, just as human as he or anybody else. Superman on the other hand was a monster, or at least dangerous enough to become one if he ever decided he’d had enough of playing superhero someday. "I don’t plan on going to Metropolis anytime soon but I like to make sure my bases are covered. Failing that, I’d have had the largest stock of Kryptonite on the planet with more than enough to go around... until that shithead stole it all, anyway! Well, maybe not all of it. I’ve still got enough to make a special round of bullets just for Superfreak...” Everything had a weakness, Roman had learned. Even the mythical werewolf could be slain with something as humble as a silver bullet but for Superman, all he needed was a glowing green chunk of rock.
-slowly slides over slurred words if you're still accepting-
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
“I don’t get how he did it. How’d that nerd manage to bag two amazing henchwomen?” Roman grumbled, at last beginning to show the faintest signs of inebriation. Echo and Query - or was it Query and Echo? Either way the pair were known even to Black Mask’s gang as the Riddler’s henchwomen. Wanted by the GCPD before and after becoming his accomplices, the two had a long history of committing crimes up and down the city and it was well known they were as tough as they were smart. Skilled in combat and the usage of firearms, it made sense they provided the muscle since the Riddler favoured mind over matter, not that the girls weren’t capable of putting their minds to good use either. ”Never met them personally but from what I’ve heard, I’d probably like ‘em. Women after my own heart and all that.”
Slurred words
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
“The Riddler? I don’t know whether to like him or to wring his scrawny little neck...” Roman said, humming thoughtfully while sipping at his drink. Truthfully he hadn’t had any major issues or conflicts of interest with the other mask-clad villain; in fact he’d even appreciated some of his deeds, particularly his ability to strike terror into the hearts of those corrupt souls who claimed to protect Gotham while secretly plundering her wealth in secret. It wasn’t the crimes which sparked his disdain of the city’s political elites, rather the fact he simply couldn’t stand two-faced people and took pleasure in the brutal nature of their deaths. ”Look, don’t get me wrong. The way he killed the mayor and the police commissioner? That shit was fucking hilarious, especially sticking Savage’s head into a rat trap! It must have been a nasty way to go, having his face eaten off while he was still alive so I’ll give our friend a 10 for creativity and 20 because I really hated that guy. The riddles though? I’ve got to remove points for them. Yeah yeah, they’re his ‘thing’ or whatever but for fuck’s sake, do they give me a headache trying to figure ‘em out.” Contrary to the Riddler’s scheming intellect and mind games, Roman preferred dealing with his problems as swiftly and directly as possible. It was one thing watching him put others to the test and humiliate them in a battle of wits but dealing with that situation was not his idea of fun, nor were his little guessing games. “I just want to know one thing... just where the fuck did he get a goat from?”
“slurred words”
Send “slurred words” to hear my muse describe yours whilst ridiculously drunk.
”Wish I could enjoy some one-on-one reading sessions with her. What? Just to break the ice, get to know her a little better.” Roman said with a offhand shrug. He hadn’t had much chance to speak with Arkham’s resident librarian but oh, he was definitely interested in speaking with Miss Kraven. Eliza was her name; he’d heard it in a conversation between her and Doctor Crane at some point. Seemed like a nice enough woman if both staff and inmates liked her company.