#*insert creepy noises*

[demaparbat-hp]

When I saw you making For the Spirits art I was so excited, wow, one of my favourite artists is reading this too, how nice!! Then I realised you’re actually the author and I just want to ask, how?? Are you so talented???? I love this fic and I love your art so so much, thank you for sharing it all with us. Can’t wait for the next update!!

Ah, thank you! This is literally so sweet! For the Spirits (adding a link for the curious folks out there!) is my love child. This project owns my heart and soul, and it's truly so rewarding that you like it! I want to sketch so many different scenes, really, but I'm doing my best to give you some quality artwork of my favorite moments in the story. It's a slow process.

As for next chapter—soon! I'm working on some sketches for this particular scene, and I am so excited to share it with everyone! Things start to pick up from here... But, for now, have a (very little) sneak peek ❤️

Zuko stood at the end of the world, surrounded by miles of snow and the resounding echo of his own shallow breaths. He took everything in, closed his eyes to receive Agni’s light, and howled.

Something howled back, and he smiled.

[cowboyskeletons]

anyone ask for a gothcleats inscryption au? no? too late

[drowzyscatterbrain]

manifest from the shadow the moment i saw his face begin to show discomfort.

standing over him, i saw the signs of his growing distress.

magic electrifying the stale air, increasingly unevened breath, limbs tensing up and twitching here and there...and i reached out just as the first disturbed hum escaped him.

night terror begin to fade when i hover my inhuman hand upon his skull. then, placing my thumb over his furrowed bonebrows, gently easing them as if physically wiping the bad feelings away.

slowly, but surely, his form relaxed. breathing pace returns normal as he settles back down.

then, putting both of my hands on sides of his skull, i leaned down, lightly placing my forehead on his before i closed my unblinking eyes.

in his now empty dreamscape, he drifts in silence, visions of timeline horror from moments ago became nothing but a fuzzy memory.

fuzzy...and warm.

then the darkness around him shifted. rippling, fluttering as if made of silk, wrapping around him in the most gentle way possible.

two waves of darkness, brushing over his cheekbones like a pair of hands...caressing his hands, cradling his face ever so lovingly.

as the ripples continue to surround him, he felt his sockets grows increasingly heavy, despite already being asleep.

distant whispers was heard as everything grows more and more fuzzy.

'good night.' was the last thing he heard before he fell further into the realm of sleep.

sans woke up hours later, somewhat more rested than average.

but the dream faded away. still there, yet unable to be recalled.

feeling funky.

kinda wanna contort into an eldritch horror that lurks in the shadows and absorbs his bad dreams when he sleeps.

i can be the weird entity under his bed. or in the dark corners of his room.

yea.

[vampiresbloodx]

pairings: Wanda maximoff x Reader

warnings(18+ ONLY): legal age gap, Wanda's in her forties and reader is in their twenties, I try not to use specific gender for reader as I want everyone to enjoy but for smut I will use proper tag, oral s*x (r!receiving), top!Wanda, jealous Wanda, weird creepy guy(ew).

part 1, part 2, part 3.

Older!Librarian!Wanda getting jealous when anyone flirts with you, has their hands on you a bit too long for her liking.

She knows she's possessive, maybe even a little bit obsessive. Everyone should know you're hers and only hers. Even if she has to put a collar on it with her name.

Wanda wasn't always the jealous type, as she claims. Ever since you officially called her your girlfriend, she's been more protective, something changed in her that she couldn't quite understand.

She's still getting used to all this, it's way different than how she's used to it being, back in her day. Now she's got you by her side, you were just so damn pretty, she couldn't believe she's lucky enough to have you.

When she takes you out for your weekly dates, of course, shed not too surprised when someone comes up and tries to ask you for your number or compliments you, she doesn't blame them. She too would be in their shoes if she saw you.

A guy comes up to you, immediately, her grip tightens around your hand, pulling you in closer to her body, she can't help it. She needs you close. He's a waitress at the restaurant she's taken you too, he's being a bit too friendly, you didn't seem to notice, you're sweet, but Wanda has noticed you can be naive.

Naive to the point where you think the waitress was just being nice.

No.

Wanda wasn't stupid.

She glared daggers at him the entire time he was taking forever to take both of your orders, purposely ignoring her presence just to talk to you, when his hand touched yours, she saw you flinch away, laughing awkwardly, Wanda raised an eyebrow at him, daring him to continue, if he knew what's best for him.

He got the message as soon as she placed her hand on top of yours, and brought it to her lips, kissing your knuckles, enjoying how flustered you got.

She had already lost her appetite. The only thing she wanted was you.

She abruptly got up, ignoring the waitress as she was too annoyed to acknowledge anyone else but you. She grabbed your hand, forcing you to follow her as she pulled you into the bathrooms, locking the door behind you.

"Wanda? What's wrong? Are you-"

She cut you off by pressing your body against the wall, staring at you as her eyes go dark, you seem to get the message, not backing away as the aching in between your legs grew, more desperate for her.

She smirked, lips meeting yours to shut out the noises, though as much as she'd love for everyone to hear you scream her name as she makes you come, this is for her only.

Wanda got on her knees, staring at you the entire time she did so, making sure you were looking only at her, her heart hammering in her chest. She wasn't sure what overcame, why this feeling was so intense. She knew she was going to have to bring it up later.

But for now, she wanted to taste you, it would be better than anything this restaurant could ever provide anyways.

She has your mouth stuffed with your panties, wanting to know just how soaking wet you are for her and she's just started. Wanda expertly licks up your cunt, inserting a finger inside your tight hole, god, no matter how many times she fucks it she still can't get over how it clenches around her.

She feels you squirming, she loves it. Wanda doesn't look away and neither do you. It's a lot. She can feel it.

You come into her mouth, wetness pooling in, some of it dripping onto her chin, your cheeks burned at the sight as she pulls your panties out of your mouth, leaving you breathless.

"fucking hell" you muttered, slumping against the wall.

She grinned, pleased, licking her lips.

Then you say the words she was looking to hear.

"can we skip dinner please? I want you."

[lint-beetle4]

Okok hear me out...

Macaque...

Teasing with toys.....

HEAR ME OUT--

Endurance Training (Macaque x Reader Smut)

Anon, you goddamn genius

Macaque is a bit of an asshole

Anyone who's met the monkey for more than 5 minutes could tell you that

Even as you two were dating, Macaque's personality never changed--something you hold dear

He was an honest man, someone who refused to change

Macaque was snarky and full of bite--he didn't bow to anyone anymore

Before your relationship, he was on you like cat fur in black clothing, usually hiding in the corners of your vision

It turned less creepy and more endearing the way he made himself more obvious to you as you got closer

Of course, he was still rough, he didn't pull back verbal punches, and you wouldn't either

That's when he knew you were a special one, the way you reacted so well to him

You read him like a book, able to pull him away when he needed space, able to drag him back in when he was drifting too far

To him, you were his ocean, always following his presence with nothing more than instinct and grace

Macaque was more open to you, more comfortable in letting the roughness of his words become softer, vulnerable even

It was that openness that led you to quiver in front of him with vibrations running through your body

You were stuffed with anything but the monkey you needed and you knew it was just the beginning

"Now, now cherry blossom, you can handle a few minutes, can't you?"

You squirm against Macaque's shadow tendrils as he inserts yet another toy into you. Vibrations already shaking your core dangerously. You'd probably cuss him out, but he's already taken the precaution of gagging you with his cock.

You're not even sure how he didn't cum yet, but there was one rule between the two of you that was set before the night began.

"Remember, you don't cum until I tell you to."

There was a signal you could make to your lover if you were ever overwhelmed. Macaque seemed slightly afraid at the idea of gagging you, but if you moved your hand a certain way, Macaque would stop everything.

"There's no shame in tapping out, y'know?"

You're the type of person to go down with the ship, and if you lost to Macaque, you wouldn't hear the end of it. Instead, you bobbed your head against his dick, tongue swirling the head as you tried your hardest to win this little game.

Macaque hissed underneath you, pulling out of your mouth quickly with a slight glare. He tugged at your hair, eliciting a deep moan from your throat.

"You want to play that game, huh? Fucking slut."

Macaque's voice sent shivers through your core as he tore out a vibrator from you, ignoring the high-pitched yelp that escaped you. You were gently lowered onto a larger object, a dildo that stuffed you to the brim.

"If you want to get me off that much, the least you can do is give me a show." Macaque growled at you, leaning down to whisper a gentle, almost worried question. "Color?"

Green, you were green to the heavens, and if you stopped, you'd charge after your lover like no other demon had seen before. Macaque chuckled, shadows forcing your body to move.

"Then suck, and if you cum, we'll make this night go on as long as you need to be a proper bitch."

You obeyed, feeling your insides twist and turn as you clench onto the dildo while dutifully sucking off Macaque. You held back a smirk, knowing that the stone monkey was also reaching his limit. You sucked harshly, tongue running through the sides of his member, lapping up any precum that escaped him. You felt claws running through your hair, Macaque's voice rumbling with another deep, barely hidden moan.

You worked harder, sloppy noises drifting through the air as the dildo inside of you sent jolts of forbidden pleasure through you.

Macaque seemed to have enough of you, his claws digging into your hair as he thrusted into your throat with an animalistic growl. You moan against his cock, legs shaking as he used you like the arsenal of toys you had.

With a stifled groan, you felt his cum leak into your throat, forcing you to swallow the salty mixture.

Macaque pulled out of you, watching your love-struck face as you focused on fucking yourself into the dildo beneath you. Macaque pulled you gently, sliding the toy from out of you as he pulled you into a deep kiss.

You panted against him, feeling worn out and empty. Yet, the urge to cum was still igniting a stubborn flame in your body.

"What's that look for, my little sparrow?" Macaque smirked, fingers teasing your body as your hips jerked impatiently. "Surely, you can last a few more minutes?"

[safarigirlsp]

Never Whistle in the Woods

Flip Zimmerman x OC

Word Count: 7.5k

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Horror. Violence. Monster Action. Cryptids. Creepy things that happen in the woods. Backcountry flavor. Just a nice getaway with Flip. Those never go according to plan. I’m willing to continue this and write more if people like it!

Note: Going forward, I'm going to write characters from now on instead of Readers just because it's really annoying trying to switch back and forth for the non-fic writing I do. However, the female characters will be totally physically vague aside from having a name, so they can still easily be read as an insert by anyone who chooses to insert themselves.

Based on two requests I combined then butchered from rynwritestuff and @lumberjack00fantasies

AO3 Link

One of Flip’s favorite things was spending a secluded weekend out at his cabin, nestled in the forested mountains, away from the noise and mayhem of town. And away from people. Nothing cured a man’s love of humanity better than working with them. He enjoyed having a beer and a burger with his friends after work and he enjoyed taking his girl out to dinner. But he liked it a helluva lot more to take her with him into the mountains and not see or hear from another person for a couple days. Actually, it had become his favorite thing.

Knowing this, his girl, Kate, had booked him a nice getaway right up his alley. A solid week squirreled away in a truly remote cabin about as far away from humanity as he could get. It had taken a little online spelunking for her to land on the small town of Kitwanga, British Columbia, but its selling points of having a population of less than five-hundred, being a prime location for hunting and fishing, and being a true gateway to the wilderness with scarcely an outpost North between the little town and the Yukon, had sealed the deal. Besides, for the shrewd outdoorsman who wanted a less touristy experience with a friendlier populace for about a third of the money, British Columbia was a superior option to Alaska with all the same appeal.

Over-the-counter hunting licenses were available for all sorts of game that required a lottery draw or exorbitant fee in the States. Flip laughed when he read in the game regulations that it was strictly prohibited to shoot Bigfoot and that, should a sportsman encounter him, he was to be considered a protected species.

“How many big, hairy Canadians do you reckon had to get shot in the ass before they added that regulation?” He grinned at Kate, sitting with her legs curled under her on the seat of his rented truck as they bounced down the terrible excuse for a dirt road, sloshing in the mud and hitting potholes by the hundreds. Flip had twice hit his head on the bolt of the rifle secured in the headache rack above his head on the ceiling of the truck’s cab. He would have left the rifle inside their cabin, but they had been stringently warned not to take a step outside without it. Bears were a real threat and the animals here had little experience with humans, which meant little fear of them.

“Sounds like you better watch your own ass if you’re out wandering around in low light,” she teased back. “You’re big and lumbering enough to be mistaken for Bigfoot.”

“Yeah, but I’m a lot better lookin,’” he winked at her as he pulled into the only gas station in the tiny town. He filled up every day on their return in case the owner decided to take a day off. Electric pumps were a novelty that hadn’t reached this far north, it seemed. He was in a teasing mood, returning from a day of hiking and, as he put it, takin’ pictures of every goddamn thing in Canada.

“Depends on who you ask,” Kate laughed warmly. “I’ve waged a losing battle for quite a while trying to convince my friends you’re handsome. They tell me I’m blind or brainwashed.”

Five businesses in the tiny town were booming, frequented by most if not all of its citizens on a regular basis: the grocery store, post office, church, bar, and the gas station. Actually, Kitwanga boasted two bars. Flip figured this was a good insight as to the favorite pastime of the locals, especially since it doubled the churchgoers. There were no restaurants, but the bars had all the haute cuisine a man could want, so long as what he wanted was a cheeseburger or a sandwich or some chicken fried steak. However, one bar generously offered to cook anything a person brought in, provided the thing was somewhere between alive and kicking and starting to turn, and provided that gastronome paid in cash. Flip had already taken the owner and bartender up on this offer and handed over several trout he had caught that day to the owner’s wife and cook to fry for dinner. He had to admit it was some of the best fried fish he had ever had, and it paired wonderfully with the potent Moose Knuckle stout beer on tap.

The sign at the gas station read, Headed north? Need gas? It’s now or never. Two lonely gas pumps sat on a rectangle of cement on the otherwise muddy ground – the kind of pumps a person usually only saw on postcards from the fifties, with the rounded tops and numbers for cost and gallons that ticked by on a dial like an old one-armed-bandit style slot machine. A hand-scrawled sign in the window listed the hours vaguely as open from dawn ‘til dusk. An uninformed observer could easily mistake the business for being abandoned, or even condemned, a relic lingering in a ghost town. But for the metropolis of Kitwanga, it was a thriving business. There was even another vehicle at the pumps, a ’79 Ford truck with a lift and a winch on its bumper and a fat man in overalls leaning against the bed, pumping gas.

Flip stepped out of his truck and lifted the nozzle of the gas pump with a rusty squeal. He admired the view of his girl as she trotted into the gas station to forage for supplies. A brisk wind rustled his hair, tinged with chilled moisture. Above, low clouds in a grayscale palette churned in the sky. The snowy tops of the mountains were hidden inside the clouds and rain slashed across their facades in a grey haze. The rain hadn’t yet reached the foothills where the town and Flip’s rented cabin were nestled, but fog was creeping in from the base of the mountains and off a nearby river. Between the thunderclouds and the fog, it was as if the world was slowly closing in, like the vignette on a Bogart movie narrowing in on the dramatic eyes of a starlet.

Tilting his face up into the chilly air, Flip smiled. He loved rain and thunderstorms, and found peace in their chaos. Mainly, he loved holding his girl while a storm raged outside, or having a drink with her while they sat on the porch and felt the electricity in the air, and making love to her and feeling her shudder thunderously beneath him. His smile widened as he anticipated the evening ahead.

“Storm’s comin,’” the man at the pump said to Flip as he spat a string of brown tobacco into the mud. “You here for huntin’ or fishin?’”

“I’m mostly just here to take a break from everyday bullshit,” Flip replied in a friendly tone. “But I have tags for fishing and tags for bear and moose in case one happens to wander in front of me.”

“Storms are bad for fishin,’” the man said, nodding knowingly. “But they can be good for huntin.’ Storms bring the animals down from the big mountains. Moose especially like the mist and bears like to hunt in the rain when their prey can’t hear and see ‘em as good.”

“Good to know.” Flip smiled as he replaced the nozzle and turned to go inside and pay his tab.

“That your girl?” the man asked with a suggestive nod toward the gas station.

“That she is.” Flip turned to face the man, wondering if he’d end up getting in a fist fight while on vacation.

Not taking the hint, the man whistled appreciatively.

Flip decided the rube meant it as a compliment, so he simply agreed with a “Yup,” and went into the gas station. Kate had been suspiciously long inside anyway, something that nagged at the part of his mind that was always an officer on duty.

Inside the dingy little gas station, Flip saw his girl leaning against the counter engaged in an affable conversation with the attendant behind the counter, a squat older man with a heavily lined face and long silver hair in a braid hanging over his shoulder down to his gut. Flip wandered through the store, grabbing a few items that struck his fancy, some beef jerky, chips, candy bars, and other assorted junk food. At the back of the store, a menagerie of terrible taxidermy watched him with glassy eyes. Above the beverage coolers that lined the wall hung several deer and caribou and two enormous moose. A life-size grizzly bear stood on its hind feet in a corner, frozen mid-snarl, its head a solid three feet above Flip’s. He looked at its paws that were larger than his head and vicious curling claws, longer and thicker than his fingers. Facing such a beast, the gun he had in his truck now seemed very feeble. He grabbed a six-pack of stout beer bottles and an over-sized bottle of cheap wine and took his loot to the counter to pile it alongside Kate’s items.

“Have you heard about the wendigo?” Kate asked Flip when he joined her at the counter. The lilt in her voice told him she was highly amused. “My new friend was just telling me about it.”

“Yeah, wasn’t that the name of that stripper I arrested last year for blackmailing the mayor?” Flip smirked. “Wendy-Go?”

“He’s an idiot, I’m sorry,” Kate apologized to the man behind the counter, simultaneously elbowing Flip in the ribs. “Please ignore him and continue.”

The attendant gave Flip a sideways look and continued talking to Kate in a slow, backcountry drawl, “It is said the wendigo were people once, but now they are cursed. A wendigo is born during times of famine or in the harshest winter. When men are starving to death in the cold. When a man is weak, and he chooses the black path of cannibalism over death, butchering his fellows to save himself. When a man eats the flesh of another, he takes a curse upon himself. The wendigo lives in constant starvation, its body emaciated and rotting, only growing hungrier the more it eats. Its hunger can never be sated and it becomes a crazed beast with an insatiable bloodlust.”

“Is this insatiable bloodlust specific to tourists?” Flip asked sarcastically.

“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, unbothered. “It looks to punish those with greed in their hearts. Or, depending on which stories you believe, it seeks people who are like-minded to itself to build its own tribe.” He eyed Flip narrowly. “So, if a tourist is out greedily mining or wantonly slaughtering game, then yes, the wendigo will come for him.”

“Slaughtering is one of the few things I never do wantonly,” Flip deadpanned and slapped some cash down on the counter.

“You should be careful, son,” the old man told Flip seriously. “There are many ways a man can be greedy. He can be greedy for his woman and covetous of her.” Then he shrugged again. “But these are nothing more than old tales.”

“So, you don’t believe in the wendigo?” Kate asked.

“Oh, there’s no doubt in my mind he’s real. I’ve seen a wendigo twice. He has antlers taller than a caribou and wider than a moose, teeth like a wolf, and only skull sockets for eyes. But they glow. It’s the glow I remember most,” the man said genuinely as he counted out change. “I just don’t know if he was once a man, or something that was never human at all. Maybe the people who first came here created a myth to explain the monster rather than created a mythical monster themselves.”

“Maybe it’s a convenient way to scare pretty, gullible girls.” Flip smirked at Kate. Then he returned his attention to the cashier. “Let me guess, there’s something that wards off the wendigo? A silver crucifix or whatever? I bet we can buy it right here.”

“Nothing wards off the wendigo,” the man scoffed. “And he is far older than your crucifix. Why would a forest god bow to a stranger on a cross? Fire can stall him, maybe even frighten him, but it can only buy you time.” He looked outside the window at the building storm. “Not good weather for making a fire if you need it.”

“Damn shame.” Flip shook his head and began collecting their provisions in his arms. There were no courtesy bags.

“We do have flares,” the man suggested innocently. “They burn in any kind of weather, even underwater. All the bush pilots carry them.”

“Probably inside their emergency monster-hunting kit alongside the stakes for vampires and silver bullets for werewolves,” Flip laughed. “Go ahead. Load us up with some flares. Consider it a tip for a good campfire story.”

“It’s always smart to be prepared,” the man agreed as he placed two bundles of six red flares apiece on the counter and rang them up. They looked like bundles of dynamite.

Kate took the flares because Flip’s arms were already overfilled. She thanked the attendant and turned to leave.

The old man grabbed her by the elbow, stopping her and causing Flip’s hackles to rise. He spoke seriously, “Don’t whistle when you’re out in the woods. Whistling will summon the wendigo. Sometimes people hear whistling too, before it comes for them.”

“And these people who hear the whistling before it gets them,” Flip said as he edged his body between Kate and the counter and nudged her toward the exit. “They walk out of the woods to tell their story, huh?”

*******************************************************************************************

Their log cabin for the week was almost an hour’s drive from the gas station. It wasn’t that far as the crow flies, but the road was serpentine with switchbacks as it climbed the foot of the mountains and made even slower by soupy mud. It was set deep in the forest, surrounded by old-growth trees with trunks as thick as the truck’s bed. The sun set on their drive back. As it dipped below the mountainous horizon, the landscape glowed a shade of hazy purple only seen in the alpine. The clouds were the color of gunpowder and the rainy vapor was periwinkle. The spruce turned into an army of nearly black silhouettes with a light mist writhing among them as moisture rose from the damp ground as well as drizzled gently from the sky. The drifting mist made everything look as though it were moving. It gave the illusion of eldritch shapes in the trees creeping along the edges of vision and tree limbs grasping like clawed fingers as they swayed in the breeze.

Flip hit the brakes suddenly, slamming Kate forward in her seat and knocking her out of the reverie the gloaming forest had cast over her. A black shape froze in the muddy road a few yards ahead of them. Its eyes sparked cold white in the headlights and the fur on its back was raised aggressively.

“A wolf!” Flip said excitedly. “I’ve never seen one this close.”

The huge animal was coal black, its amber eyes reflecting white in the headlights in the way wolves eyes do. It stood frozen, staring down the vehicle, acting like the truck was a new creature intruding into the wolf’s territory. Something was wrong with its silhouette. Something with its mouth. It took several seconds for Kate to realize what it was. The wolf turned its head uncertainly, deciding whether it should continue on its way across the road or turn around from the metal beast with offense headlights. A dead rabbit dangled from its jaws, its legs swinging lifelessly and ears flopping limply. Its lifeless eyes glinted a dull red.

The simple reminder of nature’s brutality unnerved Kate unexpectedly and her hands felt suddenly cold. She gripped Flip’s hand, digging her nails into his palm with irrational harshness.

“Nature, red in tooth and claw,” he teased and grinned at her, but he laced his fingers through hers and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “Some redneck at the gas station told me that predators liked to hunt in the rain. Guess he was right.”

Night had veiled the forest with its velvety black cloak by the time they parked next to the porch of their cabin. It was silent enough to hear all the noises of the forest, from the chattering birds to the subtle rustling of deer browsing in the brush to moisture pattering lightly on the ground. A great horned owl as large as a man’s torso sat perched in a tree branch hanging near the roof of the cabin, its yellow eyes glittering like moonlight as it hooted an eerie cadence. It followed them with its yellow eyes as they unloaded the truck and carried their loot inside, its head turned almost fully backward like a creature possessed.

There was no light pollution and on a clear night, the moon and stars lit the forest bright enough to see easily. On a rainy night, moisture in the air brought out all the smells of the forest, the crisp spruce, the earthy soil, the embers in the fireplace. The cabin had no electric lines and was powered by a temperamental generator and a wood stove. A woodpile was stacked against the back of the cabin, complete with a large timber axe embedded in a nearby stump. Cell service was laughable. Flip loved everything about all of that. He was pleased it had running water, however, mainly because it would have greatly impacted his sex life if it didn’t.

Flip grilled steaks outside that night before the rain hit and they had dinner on the porch, counting lightning bolts. Then they tangled around each other in front of the fireplace, making love as the flames crackled and danced and the thunder rolled. Between dinner and fooling around several times, they finished the bottle of wine and opened another. Night fell early this far north in the autumn and the nights were long. The cabin was equipped with a tv, but it was one of those terrible old boxy things with a tiny screen and antennas. The antennas were only for show since there was no service. Instead, there was a vcr and a selection of campy nineties movies and some even campier porn. It seemed to defeat the purpose of being there to even bother with the tv. They hadn’t turned it on once.

“I’m wide awake,” Kate mused, propped up on Flip’s bare chest, looking down at him. “Let’s do something.”

“I have plenty of ideas,” Flip said huskily. “They’re all sure to wear you out.”

“We’ve tried your ideas. Several times. And I’m still far from worn out.” She smiled. “We’re here in a cabin, basically having a sleepover. Let’s play some sleepover games, the kind you play as idiot teenagers or in sororities in college.”

“I think girls have a lot wilder sleepovers than boys. And my experience with sororities is limited to sneaking in and out of them, so you’ll have to be more specific.” He ran his fingertips along her spine and kissed her throat, doing his best to interest her in another round.

“Later, you animal,” she laughed and shoved his face away while pushing herself up and off him. “You know what I mean. Sleepover games. Like Bloody Mary, or playing a Ouija Board, or the Midnight Game.”

“Packed a Ouija Board, did you?” he teased. “That would explain why your suitcase weighs fifty fuckin’ pounds.”

“I don’t think ghosts care whether or not you use a name brand.” She pinched his chest, making him flinch.

“What ghosts are you gonna find out here?” He squinted as he rubbed his chest. “The Donner Party?”

“Don’t you think they’d be fun to talk to? We can try Bloody Mary. I don’t think she has a centralized location,” she teased and pulled on her discarded pair of pajama pants and a hoodie. She threw Flip’s grey sweatpants at him. “Put that thing away or it might scare off the ghosts.”

Flip grumbled more protests under his breath, but he dressed in his sweats and a thermal henley. “How about we each stand in front of the bathroom mirror with the lights off. I’ll ask for Candyman. You ask for Bloody Mary. And we’ll have a Celebrity Death Match between vengeful ghosts?”

“You know the ghosts always get the cynics and the cocky shitheads first, right?” She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest in a faux reprimand.

“Is that a rule?” Flip grinned. “I think the ghosts go for the morally corrupt woman who can’t keep her legs closed first. You’re in trouble, sugar.”

“There’s only one way to find out,” she said with finality.

“How about we play a fun game, like spin the bottle or truth or dare?” He winked at her. “I always pick dare. Do your worst.”

“I can’t imagine where a game of truth or dare with you would lead.” She rolled her eyes sarcastically.

Flip puffed his chest and stepped closer to her until their bodies were almost touching. “I have a better idea. You have some pretty big balls for a pretty little girl. Let’s see how big they really are.”

“Oh my god, Flip, if this is another ploy to explore that region further…” she laughed.

“Everything I do is some kinda means to that end.” He smirked. “But we’ll get to that later. Now, let’s go outside and whistle at the wendigo. There should be some of those sonsabitches around these parts.”

Flip went to the door and stepped into his muddy boots. He leaned against the doorframe, casually cocky, and raised an eyebrow at her in a challenge. “How ‘bout it, hot stuff?”

“I think we’d be better off trying to summon Bloody Mary than a wendigo,” Kate said hesitantly. “Plus, it will be cold out there.”

“I’ll keep you warm,” he teased. “How do you figure that trying to summon a ghost through our bathroom mirror would be safer than trying to call in a wendigo? At least a wendigo will stay outside. Besides, I know how psycho you’d get if I let another woman into our bedroom. Dead or alive. Don’t try to set me up, sweetheart.”

Rolling her eyes again, Kate pulled her coat on and slipped her phone into its pocket, feeling the bundle of flares she had absently pocketed at the gas station. There was no service, but its flashlight might come in handy outside. Grinning, Flip picked up the rifle that was leaning against the doorframe and slung it over his shoulder. Cocky though he was, he took the advice serious about the threat of bears and always having a gun on him out here in the wilderness. He held the door open for Kate and ushered her outside.

The air was thick with humidity but the rain had stopped for the moment, leaving the moisture on the air to chill their skin and turn their breath into ghostly thick fog. The porch was covered in slushy frost as bright as diamonds. Their boot prints left skeletal black outlines on the otherwise pristine frosty canvas as they descended the steps and walked into the forest that awaited them only yards away.

Flip offered Kate his arm and led her into the trees. The old growth forest felt like being inside a fairytale, surrounded by enormous tree trunks and relatively open ground at their bases. The roots of those great trees were so thirsty, they leeched most of the nutrients and left little for brush and scrub to encroach. After the rain, the ground was muddy and slick, with frost growing denser by the minute as the temperature dropped through the night.

Filling his lungs, Flip began whistling a terribly off-key tune as he walked through the woods. His casual swagger was the same as if he were taking his girl out for a stroll in the park. Kate winced when he struck a particularly loathsome note, and squinted her eyes at him, “What in the hell are you whistling?”

“Season of the Witch,” he replied, acting offended. “I thought you’d appreciate it.”

“I like the song, I don’t appreciate what you’re doing to it,” she laughed. “We’re not going to find any wendigo if you scare them all off with that horrendous noise.”

“I don’t hear you doing any better,” he scoffed.

Mainly in an attempt to save her ears from his screeching, Kate started whistling. She teased Flip first with her best wolf whistle. Smells were heightened in the damp air but sounds were muffled. In the silence of the forest, the whistle sounded unnaturally loud. Now that Flip wasn’t making noise himself, he found himself focusing more on his surroundings. He didn’t feel right, something he couldn’t put his finger on tugged at the back of his mind. It wasn’t just that noises were muffled by the dampness in the air, but something else that he found indefinable in that moment. He told himself it was just the product of being in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by unfamiliar vegetation that he found unsettling. The size of trees still seemed monstrous to him, and the smell of spruce instead of the familiar smell of pine must have been unsettling to his subconscious. And it probably didn’t help that he had cultivated a little buzz drinking wine for the past few hours.

A light gust of wind blew into his face and all of his senses sparked with alarm. He froze in place, seizing Kate’s arm to silence her whistling. The unmistakable scent of a wet animal hit his nose with the force of a slap in the face. Quickly evaluating his surroundings, he unslung the rifle from his shoulder and held it across his chest in high port. It would take him less than a second to aim and fire. But the forest was close around them, visibility limited to fifteen feet or so in any direction. If the animal was a predator, a bear or a mountain lion, it could cover that distance in less than a heartbeat if it wanted. He could still see the faint glow of the cabin’s lights. They hadn’t gone far, but there was no chance of outrunning an animal back to safety.

A heavy footfall sounded inside the trees ahead of them, muffled on the wet ground but distinctive. Straining his ears, Flip thought he heard a branch being brushed aside by something passing by it. Whatever it was, it was very close ahead of them. Flip’s thoughts raced, less cohesive and more a rush of images of nightmare scenarios that he weighed in an instant. He could hide himself and Kate behind one of the huge tree trunks and hope the animal passed them by. But whatever it was had to already know of their presence. If his feeble senses could hear and smell the animal, it had no doubt smelled and heard him much sooner. In that case, he decided it was best to hold his ground and meet whatever it was head on, straight down the barrel of his rifle. That would give them the best chance. Flip would have to make his shot count, and he’d probably only get one, but it was a decent chance.

Stepping in front of Kate, Flip raised his rifle to his shoulder. He kept both eyes open, not limiting his focus to only what was past the end of his barrel, but trying to expand his senses to the full spectrum of forest in front of him. He heard a heavy breath, something panting. Closer now. Flip clicked off the safety and tightened his finger on the trigger. The hardest skill for a hunter to learn, especially when hunting game that hunted him back, is to wait long enough for a good shot but not so long as to let it get him. He wouldn’t waste his shot until he saw his target clearly and could be sure of putting the bullet where it would matter most. His hold on the gun was rock steady, his breath stalled, his eyes unblinking.

The panting grew in volume until it seemed to drum in his ears. Odd for a stalking predator. Before Flip could reconcile that, a bear burst from the trees only feet in front of him. A huge grizzly bear lumbering toward him on all fours, the top of its humped shoulders taller than Flip’s head. His finger tensed, less than a millimeter of movement was required to fire. But something was off with the bear. It was panting heavily, saliva dripping from its open mouth and fog snorting in bursts from its wet nose. The bear stopped short at the sight of the man with a gun right in front of it, clearly surprised, very unlike a predator who had been stalking the man. Flip hesitated. If he didn’t kill the bear immediately with one shot – drop it right in its tracks – it would maul them both before it died. If the bear wasn’t hunting him, it was a foolish risk to take. Grizzlies were not commonly hunting predators; they were scavengers and fishers. Most people who were mauled by grizzlies had either gotten between a mother and her cubs or a bear and its food, or they had startled it like waking a grumpy old man.

Sniffing the air, the bear looked at Flip. He was so close he could see the small particles of moisture the bear blew out of its nose along with steam when it snorted. The bear’s little round ears flicked, one turning backward to listen behind it. The bear’s eyes were wide, showing white, in a nervous gesture that was common to both man and beast. The bear looked back over its shoulder and then broke into a gallop. Flip’s rational mind told him to shoot, but his instinct prevented him. The bear altered course enough to avoid running straight into Flip. It paid him no further mind at all, instead running right by him. Flip followed it with the barrel of his rifle as it passed by him so close that a string of white saliva landed on the rifle’s blue-black barrel.

Turning around about face, Flip followed the bear with his sights until it was well past them and showed no signs of turning back around. He looked back toward the place the bear had come from, still holding the rifle to his shoulder. He didn’t look at Kate when he told her, “Walk back to the cabin. Don’t run, but go now.”

“You want me to follow the bear?” she hissed. “He ran toward the cabin. I don’t want to get near him again.”

“Follow the bear,” Flip gritted. “If a bear’s runnin’ from something, we’d best do the same. He didn’t care about us anyway. Now, move.”

Uncertainly, Kate turned and retreated toward the cabin. They hadn’t gone that far, after all. Flip backed after her, keeping his rifle aimed into the black forest from which the bear had run. A shrill scream splintered the silence, starker than a bolt of lightning. Kate shuddered and Flip ducked, hunching his shoulders like he had taken a punch. The scream shrilled for several seconds, wavering on a blood-curdling note before trailing away. It echoed around them, seeming to float on the mist.

“That’s just an elk bugling,” Flip said, trying to calm Kate. Maybe it was in fact an elk, a sickly, ravenous elk. “Keep moving, slowly.”

“I’ve never heard an elk that sounded like that.” Kate shivered against more than the chilled air. “This is starting to scare the hell out of me.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll take your mind off of it when we get back,” Flip tried to joke but he couldn’t muster the required lewdness, his mouth was too dry.

The howling scream burst again through the forest. It was something like an elk bugle, but more howling and rasping, with a sort of growling mingled in at the end as it trailed away. It was closer now. Flip felt as much as heard it reverberate inside his skull.

“Whatever that is, it’s not an elk.” Kate had her arms wrapped around her body, trying to prevent herself from being overtaken by tremors.

“Sure, it is,” Flip lied. “They probably just grow ‘em bigger up here.”

Kate blew out a shuddering breath, fighting to keep her steps slow and steady.

“Pick up the pace a little, darlin,’” Flip rasped.

“You said not to run,” Kate hissed.

“I didn’t say to crawl either!” Flip gritted. “This is one hell of a time for you to start listening to me.”

Instead of moving faster, Kate stopped short. So suddenly, Flip bumped into her as he walked backward. A branch snapped somewhere inside the forest. It was strangely loud. Flip realized then that the snap only sounded harsh because the forest had gone utterly silent. The hundreds of small noises from birds and insects were gone. Even the drops of water falling from tree branches seemed to have stopped. The forest felt like a living thing around them, possessed of a presence all its own. Now that presence was altered into something darker and ominous.

“What the hell are you doing?” Flip’s voice had dropped to a whisper without his conscious approval. “I said keep moving. We’re not far from the cabin.”

“Turn around.” Kate’s voice trembled.

Dropping the rifle for a moment, Flip looked back over his shoulder. His nerves must be playing tricks on his eyes. He turned fully around, holding the rifle at high port across his chest. The view of the forest that met him was foreign. It wasn’t the same forest they had walked through only minutes before. The trees were more skeletal, their grasping branches more cloying. Moss hung from the branches like the lank hair of a corpse, and the ground was spongy underfoot, as if the forest was rotting around them. Even the air smelled stale and moldy. Thunder boomed overhead and lightning illuminated the forest in patches like a stop-motion movie. Most unsettling of all, the comforting glow of the cabin lights that could be seen through the trees had vanished or been snuffed out.

“What the fuck…” Flip’s voice trailed away as he took in the strangeness of their surroundings. A burst of lightning brought the forest into focus for a gleaming second. Bizarre shapes hung in the trees like a macabre abomination of Christmas tree ornaments, figures made from twigs lashed together with sinew to form pentagrams and humanoid shapes and horned beings. Flip swallowed thickly and ignored them. “We couldn’t have gotten turned around so fast.”

“We didn’t.” Kate looked around frantically. “I could see the cabin lights, then I heard that horrible bugle and looked around for it. And then the lights were gone. They couldn’t have all gone out, not all at once.”

“Lightning must have struck the cabin,” Flip lied again. Nothing about the forest looked familiar to him now and everything about it felt wrong. “Must have shorted out the lights.” There was no reason to scare Kate more than she already was. “It’s alright, we don’t need lights for what I have in mind when we get back.”

The scent of wet dog hit Flip again on a gust of wind, yanking his attention in the direction of the odor. He saw a heap of dark fur, glistening from the spotty rain and aimed his rifle at the creature. It didn’t move. Steam rose from the furry mass. Flip noted another smell on the air, something with a coppery aftertaste that coated the roof of his mouth. He edged forward, looking at the steaming animal down the barrel of his rifle, his finger resting on the trigger, ready to fire. He recognized the beast when another bolt of lightning revealed the horror to him.

“Don’t look,” he said to Kate, but it was too late. She clasped a hand over her mouth to keep her scream from escaping.

The huge grizzly bear they had encountered minutes before lay on its side in a broken heap of matted fur. Steam spiraled into the air from its torn-open belly, its entrails protruding from the mangled tissue like uncooked sausage. The gaping wound was only minutes old. The bear’s body temperature would plummet rapidly in the frigid air and it was still warm now. Even as they stared, the steam began to abate. Hanging in the branches of the tree nearest the bear carcass were several more bizarre figures crafted from twigs.

The screeching growling bugle erupted again, very close this time. Flip nudged Kate ahead, keeping his rifle at the ready, but not knowing where to aim it.

“Which way do we go?” Her breath came in shuddering puffs of fog.

“I don’t know,” Flip admitted. “Away from here.”

Amid a stand of spruce to his side, bare tree branches swayed in the wind, their spiky fingers waving ominously. Flip hadn’t noticed the wind pick up. Looking at the oddly swaying branches, he realized there was no wind. The air had gone as still as the inside of a crypt. The strange branches were bare, glistening wet and pointed upward, still swaying.

A flash of lightning illuminated the creature and Flip flinched so hard he almost fired accidentally.

What he had taken for bare branches was a set of enormous antlers, shaped somewhere between a moose and a caribou and as large as an Irish elk, with wide paddles and long spiked tines spurting out non-typically like broken fingers. It had a dark mane like an elk with a tawny, painfully emaciated body. Flat tines of several spinal processes protruded through the hide at the top of its high withers and one hip bone showed through the skin. But its head was the most terrible of all. Its face was in an advanced stage of rot, dregs of sagging flesh barely clinging to the skull. White skull bone gleamed in exposed patches, and its sharp, lupine teeth were long in the exposed jawbone and ragged. Its nasal cavity was bare, the fleshy nose rotten away, leaving only the pointed bones and a black hollow. It had no eyes that Flip could see, but there was an evil gleam inside its sockets, like embers inside a pile of ash. The monster shook its head, slinging water from its great spiked antlers. Then it leveled its head like a bull about to charge and fixed its glowing eyes on Flip.

“Shoot it,” Kate whispered, her eyes wide with terror.

“I don’t think it’ll do any good.” Flip looked down the barrel at the rotting flesh covering the walking skeleton and white bone peeking from beneath. The monster’s glowing eyes were not something found among the living. Without lowering his rifle, he looked at Kate and met her eyes. “It’ll come for me first. I’ll make sure of that, and I’ll stall it as much as I can. Get to the truck, darlin.’ The keys are in it. Run like hell.”

“I’m not leaving you!” she said vehemently, her voice losing some fervor when the creature took an ominous step closer, its enormous antlers swaying with its gait.

She felt for her phone, hoping there might be service. Not that another human could even reach them in less than an hour, making any idea of help hopeless. Her hand closed around the lumpy bundle of flares. With an excited breath, she freed a flare from the bundle and fumbled with lighting it.

The monster bugled angrily, a sound so shrill it felt like it grated along their spines. It rushed toward them through the trees, its teeth bared and eyes aflame. Flip fired, sending a bullet right between those glowing eyes. He even saw the bullet strike and tear away more rotting flesh, leaving a pearly white hole in the skull. It didn’t slow the monster or even make it flinch. He bolted another round into the chamber on instinct, staring down the barrel at the demonic eyes that were fixed upon him.

Kate popped the cap off the flare. The cap had an abrasive tip like a matchhead and she struck it to the end of the flare, holding it high as it burst to life. With their eyes accustomed to the darkness, the flare seemed as bright as sunlight, searing black pulsing spots into their vision. The monster squealed again, shaking its head with pain or irritation. Its antlers caught in the tree branches, stalling its advance. The flare burned and popped, hot on Kate’s face even at arm’s length and blindingly bright.

The landscape around them crackled and wavered, like a tv signal trying to come in through static. The trees looked less skeletal and more normal, like they had been before, and the strange twig figures vanished. The cabin lights glowed through the trees, yellow and warm, not far from them.

“It’s in our heads!” Kate shouted. “It’s making us hallucinate, but I can see the cabin and the truck now.”

“The light bothers it,” Flip said as he reached into her coat pocket, grabbing three flares and leaving her the remaining two. The monster wrenched its antlers free of the branches where it was tangled and lurched toward them in a shambling gait.

Shouldering his rifle that was of no more use than a club against the monster, Flip bit the cap off a flare with his teeth and struck the head. He rammed the end into the muddy ground at his feet, leaving the tip burning. The beast reared, shrieking with rage and clawing the air with its cloven hooves as Flip backed away. He could see the glow of the cabin lights now too. It was hard to resist the urge to run to the light.

Flip lit the next flare. Kate was a few yards ahead of him, gaining ground toward the truck. It would take whoever reached it first a minute to start it. Flip had a good throwing arm and even better aim. The monster lunged at him, rage overriding whatever else had been driving it to pursue them so far. Flip drew back his arm, took a second to aim at the gaping black jaws, and threw the lit flare as hard as he could. The flaming tip cartwheeled through the air like a throwing knife before the fiery head struck the monster right where its nose should have been. But it had no nose, its nasal cavity was exposed in its partially skeletal head. Robin Hood could not have struck a finer bullseye. The flaming tip sank deep into the nasal cavity, embedding itself there.

Screaming terribly, the wendigo shook its head and stomped its hooves, rearing and bucking like a horse that had stepped on a hornet’s nest. It couldn’t shake the flare free from its skull. The flames spread, shooting out through holes in the rancid flesh of its cheeks and jaws. It looked as though it breathed fire when it screeched, belching flare fumes and flames out of its hacking mouth.

“We’re not gonna get a better chance than this!” Flip roared at Kate as he burst into a run toward her. She had a few paces head start on him and sprinted ahead toward the truck.

Kate reached the truck first, yanking the driver’s door open and jumping inside. Flip could bitch about her driving all he wanted, but she dared not spare the extra second or two for him to take the wheel. Not with the eldritch monster galloping toward them, bugling terribly, flames bellowing from its mouth and nose. Flip had his one remaining flare in hand when he reached the truck. The engine roared to life.

Instead of joining Kate inside the cab, Flip vaulted into the truck bed and shouted for her to drive. Kate slammed the truck into gear, throwing Flip against the side of the bed. Regaining his balance, he dropped to his knees and planted his back against the rear window, making himself as steady as he could. Kate was speeding as fast as she dared down the muddy, winding road, and it wasn’t fast enough. The wendigo pursued them, galloping after the truck and gaining ground. Striking the tip of his flare, Flip held the flaming tip aloft, casting the entire truck in a halo of searing red fire. The wendigo allowed more distance between them, smart enough to keep outside of throwing range of another flare.

Kate took a slippery curve too fast, the truck fishtailing as she recovered control, slinging Flip from one side of the bed to the other. The flare was nearly whipped from his hand, but he clenched his fist tight to keep his hold. Gritting his teeth, he composed himself, using all his strength to keep his balance and keep his arm held high. He couldn’t afford to lose a flare. They only had three flares left, and it was going to take every last burning second of each one to reach town.

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 © safarigirlsp 2024

Tagging some buddies!

[practicedvmm13fullofpotatoes]

All of sfth's improvized plays described by someone with bad/selective memory (but remembers 90% of the lines they make up) pt. 3

11) Inside the Mysterious Cube

Gay cowboys gay cowboys gay cowboys!! Also, coob legs for both the wife and Bubba!! Why did the wife of the president want coob legs? Honestly, I don't think she knows why either

12) BUS

Something something Magnum O. Puss that's the only thing I can remember at the moment and kind of the only thing that matters. ALSO, BIG DICK 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 (and big vagina 1, 2, 3)

13) All Eyes on Nigel

Who's the king? Nigel. It's him. That's all you need to know

14) No! I Always Loved That Caravan!

"Welcome to Caravan Hutch! Where we buy your caravans :) Come on in! Sell all the caravans you have" "Splendid, do you have it on you?" "Up north? :0" "Yess, our fingers stretch very faar, very faar don't they. Would you be able to drive?" "YEES! Very good at driving, I am, a full set of hands!" "This is Fullset OfHands, he's more than willing to drive!" "Fullset O'Hands! Pleasure to make your acquaintance, hahahahahaaaah!" "Please to make your acquaintance! Yes!" "Mmm. Hhmhmm" "Do you guys like art?" "Aaaaah.." "Is that a yes or a no?" *looks at eachother* "Mmmm.." "Five grand what? GRANDFATHER CLOCKS?! "No, like five thousand, five thousand pounds" "Five thousand WHAT?!" "Pounds" "Oh, I didn't hear!" "(words words) I've got the new Tilimothée Chalamet in it (words words)" *walks towards him * "What do you guys think?" "..I wasn't listening, were you?" "He wants to put our name in the credits.. He thinks we need help.." "For four-five grand, like sponsorship sorta thing" "For four-five grand?" "Four-four-five grand??" "For fourty-five grand?! (Four hundred and forty-five?!)" "No! You give me five grand" "Yes?" "I'll give you a caravan (yes) and I'll put your name in the credits of the film" "Credits of what film?" "The new like, arthouse film (words words)" "Hmm.. A film in our house.." "I've always--" "We're not filming it in your house--" "WAIT!" "I've always wanted to be captured.." *spotlight* "Ah! You have such a pretty face!" "Yeees.. Ever since I got this face I've wanted it on film. It's so recent.. My love slash brother" "*Insert Tom & Luke noises*" "You don't have catering? There's no roles (rolls?) in the film?" "Ouh.." "Ugh!" "We're hungry! D:" "We need to eat! D:" "So hungry! D:" "What do you say? We're quite extra.." "I would love to be back in the ground, mhmhmhmmahahhaahaah.." "We'll do it" "Yes!" "Lots O'Hands!" "Caravan Hutch!" "Hutch!" "Here's the money.." "Are you wearing a bra?" "That's the money, I'm just itchy" (few scenes later) "I resent the description of me as creepy, hahahahaaa--" "You're meant to be going up north!" "I'm on my waay!"

15) Wild, Wet & Worrisome

"HEY! HEY!". I think they're Australian. Also, sirens and a forbidden love story? Hell yeah!!

Prev // Next

[mickeyswhore]

Condescending

Summary: Mickey is your boyfriend and he realises something about you and takes full advantage of it.

Mickey Altieri x Reader

Warnings: dumbification, Mickey is VERY patronising here, Clueless slander (I'm so sorry), just overall smut ig, overuse of the word bunny, let me know if I forgot anything else

Want me to make a Tag List? Here!

GIF by @coppoladelrey

Mickey loves to talk down at you, no matter what the subject is. But his favourite one is films,

he loves to talk about how your tastes in films is too common and how you need to learn more about it. You pretend that is simply a joke every time he does it, but the thing is that 

you know he isn’t and the worst part it? You love it, you love every single insult he throws at you and it makes you wet just thinking about it.

You loved Clueless, so you wanted to watch it tonight. You and Mickey are currently in his dorm room by yourselves, Derek went on a date with Sidney. Mickey had a serious problem in picking apart your taste in films and he wasn’t subtle about it, it came to a point where you hid your favourite films from him and only watching his “classic” films.

“Come on, bunny. This film is incredibly subpar, Paul Rudd was alright but other than just a convoluted plot that is kinda creepy.” Mickey still didn't let you put the tape on, he grabbed it from your hands and was keeping it away from you. “Underage girl that falls in love with her older step brother? You should know better than that, I can’t handle this. It’s kinda stupid coming from you.” He had his free hand on your thigh and he was looking at you with his head tilted forward, a low key Kubrick stare.

“I just want a good feel film that is pretty, alright?” You took a deep breath and looked at him, Mickey had huge grin on his face.

“Of course you do, you need to turn off your brain don’t you? Thinking is too hard for you, isn’t bunny? You need me to make all of the decisions for you, right?” Suddenly Mickey was behind you and he was pulling your dress and he pulled your panties to the side and he felt how wet you were. “You love when I talk to you like this, right? You love when I think for you, right bunny?” You nodded and Mickey laughed. “Oh, bunny you’re so fucking wet.” He inserted a finger in your cunt and you moaned putting your head on his shoulder, you opened your legs even further.

“Look at you, you can’t even reply to me. I only need my fingers to fuck you dumb, imagine how dumb I’m gonna make you after I pound your tight little pussy with my big fat cock.” He whishpered in your ear and you whimpered. “Oh, bunny.” He laughed condescendingly, and added a second finger and his thumb started making circles on your clit, you started moaning even loude, you tried to close your legs but Mickey didn't allow that. “Come on, bunny…you can take it.” His other arm grabbed your leg and kept it open, he picked up the rhythm and fingered you even harder.

Mickey could feel you clenching around his fingers, he looked at the mirror that Derek had on the dorm and he had full view of your cunt. “Come on bunny, cum all over my fingers.” The noises were so loud and as if it was on cue, you came hard. Mickey helped you ride out your orgasm, he slowly removed his fingers and put them on his mouth. “So tasty, bunny.” He hummed, after that he got on his knees and you felt his tongue on your clit and you moaned.

“Mickey, please…too much.” You groaned but he didn't stop, he kept eating you out and your hands went straight to his hair and Mickey pulled you closer with his arms around your hips, he was feasting on your pussy.

“You can take it, bunny. Cum on my tongue for me.” His ministrations were quick and he was watching you fall apart, your back was arching, your breath was shallow and Mickey was loving every second of it. He grazed your clit with his teeth and that made you jump but Mickey kept you in place. “You look so cute like this, bunny. Completely on my mercy, you look so fucking hot.” 

Your pussy was clenching over nothing, and you could tell that another orgasm was approaching. You were pulling Mickey’s hair and he groans, he loves when you do that. You came again, and Mickey didn't waste any time and started slurping on your pussy and he never stops looking at you, while you can’t keep eye contact. After riding out your orgasm again, Mickey gets up and you see his huge cock hard on his trousers, it looked like it hurt.

“Can I suck your cock, Mickey? Please?” Your mouth was watering looking at the outline of his cock, and Mickey laughed.

“You’re so cock drunk, aren’t you bunny? Come here.” He started removing his trousers and his cock sprung free and you quickly put his cock in your mouth and Mickey loved to see you so desperate for his cock. “Just like that, bunny.” You hollowed your cheeks and started sucking his cock, Mickey started groaning, your mouth felt like heaven, he held your hair in a makeshift ponytail and he started fucking your throat. 

Tears were started falling and Mickey wiped it with his thumb, you could feel yourself getting wetter by the second. “Keep your eyes on me, bunny.” You readily obey and kept your eyes on him, he looked so hot with his mouth in an o shape and messy hair. Mickey threw his head back and started fucking your throat in with a reckless abandon again. “Fuck, bunny your mouth feels like heaven. FUCK.” Mickey felt that he was going to cum, and he only cums deep inside your pussy so he pulled your head away from his cock, as soon as you lost contact with his cock you started pouting and Mickey laughed.

“Sorry, bunny but you know that I only cum on your tight little pussy.” Mickey pulled you and started kissing you. “I want you on all fours, bunny.” You quickly got on your hands and knees, Mickey slapped your ass and you moaned at the sensation.

He rubbed the head of his cock on your clit before thrusting inside your cunt and you screamed and moaned, his cock always streched you out no matter how many times Mickey fucked you it always streched you out so well. Mickey grabbed your hips and started fucking you hard, you grabbed the sheets and bit your lip and he saw that and did not like it. “Don’t you dare hide those noises from me, bunny.” A needy whine and moan escaped you and Mickey growled, his thrusts were getting faster, he grabbed your hair pulled you closer, your back touching his chest.

“Look at how dumb you get when I’m fucking you, bunny.” Mickey pointed at the mirror and you saw how disheveled you looked with your mouth open panting and moaning. “I know how much you love being my dumb slut, bunny.” You whined at his words and you clenched around his cock. “See, I can feel your tight little pussy clenching around me. You always think too much, bunny. And I love fucking you stupid, you need it, you crave it don’t you bunny?” You whined again and nodded your head, unable you speak and Mickey loved every second of it.

“Need to cum, Mickey.” He knew exactly what that meant, but he loved to see how desperate you to cum.

“You want me to play with your little clit, bunny?” You nodded desperately, Mickey’s thrusts never faltered and it was too much but at the same time not enough. “I know you’re gonna cum all over my cock as soon as I start playing with you little clit.” Mickey started rubbing hard circles on your clit and watched you scream and moan through the mirror.

“Mickey.” You screamed and started squeezing his cock cumming all over it, Mickey’s hand went on your throat, not squeezing it but as a sign of ownership. After he helped you ride out your orgasm, Mickey started chasing his own, you choked on your own throat and you were starting to get exhausted.

“Bunny, look at you…you were made to be mine, you were made to be fucked. You’re too dumb to think on your own, you don’t need to think about anything, you just need my cock slipping you open.” You felt his thrusts getting sloppier and he was grunting and moaning.

You felt the thick ropes of cum inside you, that’s when Mickey stopped and you felt his cock pulsating inside you still. He finally disconnected from you and Mickey grabbed some wet wipes and started wiping the cum off of you, you hissed at the cold wipes on your abused pussy but after a moment it felt good.

“Are you alright, bunny?” Mickey your head and looked at you with nothing but devotion and love in his eyes.

“Yeah.” You nodded smiling at him and he kissed you, it was slow and passionate unlike a few moments before.

“Aren’t you such a good girl?” You got hot over the praise and you hid on his chest, you were starting to get tired so you yawned and Mickey knew that you gone for the night. 

“I love you so much, Mickey.” You confessed already closing your eyes.

“I love you too, bunny. I’ll be here when you wake up.” He kissed your forehead again and sleep overtook you quickly.

After a few minutes, Mickey got up from his bed and started to get ready. He got his mask and voice modulator ready, it wouldn’t take too long he only needed to kill one person tonight and it was on campus. Whilst Mickey got ready, he observed you sleeping and he wasn’t ready to fall in love with you but you took him by surprise by warming your way into his heart.

Mickey was going to talk with Mrs. Loomis, he doesn’t want to get caught anymore, he wants a life with you. And after finishing killing he went straight to his dorm and you were still sleeping peacefully, and he didn't break his promise, he was there when you woke up.

[schrijverr]

You Don’t Know Me, But I Know You 6

Chapter 6 out of 6

5 times Tim showed he stalked Robin + 1 time Jason did

Inspired by this post of thecrazyleader.

On AO3.

Ships none

Warnings: none

~~~~

+1. Jason Acts Familiar

It’s a slow night. No one has commented on it yet, since none of them want to jinx it, but all have been luxuriating in the quiet.

“Since when does DC have a branch in Gotham?” Tim’s voice suddenly breaks the silence.

“What is this DC? Is it a new terrorist organization? I have not heard of them,” Damian asks.

“No, it’s a coffee shop, most people call it DC Coffee, but the C already stands for coffee, so that’s stupid,” Tim explains. “They were never in Gotham before.”

“Ugh, of course you wouldn’t just call it DC Coffee, because you’re a pretentious ass,” Steph rolls her eyes. “What sort of monstrosity do you order?”

“I don’t order a monstrosity,” Tim says offended.

“Yes, you do,” Jason inserts himself into the conversation. “It’s literally called the Death Wish and it’s the only chain that serves it. Of course you’re excited it’s here.”

“Shut up,” Tim hisses, but it’s overshadowed with multiple concerned family members preemptively banning him from entering. Bruce even considers buying it, so he can quite literally ban Tim.

“My coffee intake is not that bad!” Tim shouts over the noise. “No one in the family is normal about caffeine, I just get singled out for it. It’s unfair. Let me go to my favorite coffee shop in peace. I usually only get to go there on bus…” Tim falls silent suddenly.

After two beats, a concerned Dick tentatively asks: “Are- are you good, Baby Bird? What’s happening?”

Ignoring Dick, Tim asks: “Hood, how the fuck did you know what I order? You’re literally never there when I do, because I only get to on business trips or when I’m at Titan Tower.”

Jason is quiet.

“Oh my god, have you been stalking me? You’ve totally been stalking me,” Tim exclaims, torn between disturbed and delighted.

“No, I haven’t,” Jason protests, but Tim ignores him.

“After weeks of calling me a stalker and a creeper, here you are, doing the exact same. I can’t believe the hypocrisy!” Tim goes on.

“I wasn’t stalking you!” Jason yells, hoping to be louder than Tim to shut him up.

It works. Tim falls quiet. But then Steph asks: “Then why do you know his coffee order in a chain you’ve never seen him go to. Even I didn’t know that and I dated him.”

“Yes, how did you obtain this information without observation?” Damian inquires.

Jason is quiet for a second, then says: “Okay, so it wasn’t without observation, but observation and stalking isn’t the same at all.”

“It totally is,” Tim exclaims indignantly.

“No, it’s not,” Jason argues. “I was observing your routine so I could break in and kill you, that’s not at all the same as running around at night, because you’re a creepy looser, whose only human interaction is through a camera lens.”

“Okay, harsh,” Tim says.

“Yeah, way too harsh. I mean, I agree with you and I love ragging on Red Bridie-boy here, but that’s- that’s a lot,” Steph says, a jikes in her voice.

“Alright, yeah, you’re right, sorry, that was too much,” Jason agrees. “But I still think it’s not the same.”

“It totally is,” Tim says, easily forgiving the harsh words. They truly have gotten closer. Then he proceeds to be a little shit by crowing: “Stalker, stalker, stalker. Red Hood is a stalker.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Jason chants, trying and failing to drown him out.

“No. Creeper, creeper,” Tim starts up, Steph having no trouble joining in, despite not even agreeing with Tim.

“One of my plans was fucking poisoning you with your coffee order. I can dust that plan off, if you don’t stop right the fuck now,” Jason threatens.

“Still a stalker,” Tim singsongs, before turning off his com. He hasn’t taken Jason’s threat seriously in ages, he wonders when that happened.

[chiyuumiii]

NIGHTFALL

An Earth/Terra-42 Miles Morales x F!Reader fanfic.

[TAGS: Prowler Miles Morales, Miles Morales, Female Reader, Fluff, Just Pure Fluff, Cuddles and Love, Morning Kisses, Sleepy Kisses, Forehead Kisses, Prowler Miles sneaks in through your bedroom window and cuddles with you hehe, Vigilante, Miles saves you from a bunch of ew creepy men, Secret Relationship, Secret Love]

TW: Mentions of harassment, slight drugs, Google Translated Spanish, Bad/Decent Writing, Typos, Grammatical Errors!

Point it out if I missed something <3 Thank you!

You were walking down the bustling roads, umbrella in hand as the raindrops cascaded heavily, it was nearly pitch black, if it weren't for the streetlights and the bright glow of the headlights of the vehicles zooming by.

Your gaze focused forward, your body is starting to betray you by the time, it was exhausting.

You heard peculiar noises emerging from an alleyway, you cautiously walked by, tightening the grip of your umbrella, and also inserting your hand in your pocket, having your pepper spray ready.

It was always like this at midnight. Horrible, utterly horrible.

You felt something touch you, and immediately pulled out your pepper spray, turning around to see a cracked-out old man, you quickly ran off, panting as the howling winds nearly blew off your umbrella, if it weren't for your firm grip. More strange men surrounded you, you held your pepper spray and umbrella tightly, backing away and not letting any of them get close. One of them tried to reach out and touch you, but you backed away and sprayed his face.

“Don't fucking touch me, you asshole!” You angrily yelled, it was enough for someone to hear.

They seemed to have gotten offended by you, and tried to close in the distance, but something...like a dark…violet glow, blended in with the haze of the rain, and with one swift action, two of the men were knocked out cold, until all of them were in the blink of an eye, you tried to descry who saved you...

“Are you alright, miss? Did they touch you?” The voice spoke out, it sounded a little cold and stoic, but you could definitely hear the hint of concern in it.

“No, they didn't...Thank you for saving me there...”  You sighed deeply in relief, though you were curious about this...person. The raindrops started falling lighter, so you could now see, the mist and haze cleared up. A boy about your age, his face concealed with a mask, so you couldn't see the truth of his identity, his brunette braids extending to about the length of his shoulders, he resonated with the night. You examined further, he wore a jacket, adorned with accessories, his shirt had a logo on it, and titanium-laced claws and gauntlets with tech that are probably out of this world.

He noticed you examining him, "Something caught your eye?" He crossed his arms, the pixelated eyes of his mask squinted with suspicion.

"No, nothing. Sorry." You muttered, a little embarrassed about staring at him.

You heard a tiny chuckle emerge from him, he then turned his head left and right. "There's a pathway here. Just follow this route and you'll get home safely." He pointed at a secure route you could walk home to. "Oh, thank you...I owe you a lot for this." You gave him a small smile, bowing your head respectfully before walking off to the route he pointed to. "Stay safe, pajarito." He uttered under his breath, speeding off in the dark. You thought he seemed affable.

♡♡♡

You got back home, finally plopping down your bed and sighing in relief. It felt nice to finally lay down and rest. You slipped your shoes off and crawled up to your pillows, taking the air conditioner remote and pressing the on button, wrapping yourself in your blankets and laying comfortably. Taking your phone and checking for any missed messages, scrolling through social media, listening to some soothing music before plugging it in and closing your eyes, trying to get yourself to fall asleep.

You couldn't stop thinking about that vigilante—his features, his gear, his badass costume…You thought maybe he was definitely your type.

You giggled, but then snapping your head back to reality, you'll probably only meet once, and never again. 

Or…That's what you thought.

PART 2 SOON HAWIHRAHRW HOPEFULLY I HAVE MOTIVATION

[airbendertendou]

19 with Tsukasa

drop it like hot, hot, hot (insert seventeen hot)

19 AND 91 were taken so i cheated a lil 😈

a yearning nd steamy number 82 + tsukasa

“‘CAUSE YOU’RE MY FAVORITE.”

the sun's rays filter through the closed blinds, coloring everything it touches a golden, pinkish sheen. he should look away - tsukasa knows how creepy he seems right now, staring your way mindlessly. but, he can't help himself. can't help the stupid, sappy smile that falls onto his lips.

you snort in your sleep, the sound vibrating against the desk you lay on. tsukasa grins at the noise - it wouldn't matter what you did, he'd find it endearing regardless. the blond tilts his head as you turn, facing him now.

your left cheek is smushed to your arms, cushioning your head from the aged and hard desk. the sun barely lights up the room, signaling it will be night time soon. he should wake you up - should help you preapre your things to go home.

tsukasa just gazes instead.

when your eyes flutter, he looks away abruptly. you let out a groan as you stretch, sleepily blinking as you take in how dark it's become. you frown his way, "why didn't you wake me? it's time to go home."

"didn't even notice." tsukasa looks away from the random book he grabbed, acting shocked at the lack of sunlight. he forces his lips down, feigning a frown, "guess it is pretty late."

you look at him for a bit before shrugging. "can't be helped, i guess. i'm gonna head home."

"guess i will, too," tsukasa sighs. he shuts the book softly, not caring where it landed when he drops it. as you gather your things, he tucks his hands into his pockets. "i'll walk you home, then. i'm headed that way, anyways."

you smile up at him and his breath catches. "that's kind of you, thanks."

tsukasa shrugs it off as his heart pounds in his chest. it's out of his way - your home - but he'd rather make sure you got ome safely than wonder all night. the extra steps wouldn't be bad for him, either. anything to make sure you were okay.

——♡—— the longing..... the yearning....... dreamy sigh

request your own here ♡ read more

[maccreadysbaby]

A Hundred Ways to Become a Wayne

batfamily + oc insert

tw: much angst, psychological torture???

wanna read more? here’s the table of contents!

want to read the first fic in the hundred days series so you understand what’s going on here? here it is!

geez you guys. just geez. this is so intense. this chapter, as well as asten and jasons little moment made me cry while writing them :,(

part twenty-two

❝ TOO CLOSE TO HOME ❞

TUESDAY — AUGUST 11 — 3:31PM

BENTLEY HADN’T CONSIDERED JUST HOW QUICKLY HIS DAY COULD TURN DISASTROUS.

Hey, buddy. There’s been a change of plans — I want you home after school today. I’ll explain when you get here.

That was the text Bentley got from Bruce exactly seven minutes before Spanish class ended, exactly seven minutes before he was supposed to go home with Nico, so he could make the burner calls with him and Asten.

Bruce had already said yes to Bentley’s fake science project earlier that day — a lie he felt pretty terrible about — but apparently, now, it was a no.

At first, he was terrified he’d be getting in trouble. Had Bruce found out about Dr. Keene’s phone? About the cabin? About the burners? Did he know their entire plan from beginning to end? He probably did since he was the best detective in the world, and if so, Bentley was screwed.

But it wasn’t that. It was much, much worse.

Now, twenty-five minutes after the end of school, when Bentley, Damian, and Duke walked into the Manor, it was evident that something was wrong. The entire house was silent. Not the people-in-the-distance kind of silent, but the could-hear-a-pin-drop-from-the-other-end-of-the-Manor kind of silent. Nothing in the golden entryway was out of place or messed up, but the quiet gave the place quite an eerie feeling. As far as they knew, Dick, Jason, Bruce, Alfred, and Tim were all home. But there was no noise, no anything that would imply anyone had been there in a while. Not even the dogs or Alfred the cat made a peep at the sound of the front door. And Bentley… didn’t like it. He didn’t like it so much he ran a hand through his red hair and grabbed onto the hem of Duke’s blazer with the other. Their trio of matching Gotham Academy uniforms would not make for good outfits to die in.

“Titus?” Damian called through the house, shrugging off his backpack and dropping it at the door. Bentley had barely seen the giant gray dog since Damian started getting angry — and it seemed he wouldn’t be seeing him now, either. Titus didn’t come running to Damian’s call like he usually did. Like he always did.

That freaked Bentley out even more. He was pretty sure Titus would chew his way through a wall if Damian was calling him from the other side, but now, not a thing in the Manor moved. Not a sound pierced the air.

“Duke…” Bentley muttered, his voice hardly audible. He jumped a mile when Duke’s hand landed on his shoulder, and the older boy peeled his own backpack off, laying it gently on the floor. 

“Let’s go to the cave,” He whispered back, squeezing Bentley’s shoulder.

Bentley slid his bag off, too. He wasn’t exactly sure what Duke’s metahuman superpowers were — seeing the future or something — but he hoped they were online. Just in case. There was no telling what was going on, why the Manor was so quiet.

Damian and Duke started down the nearest hallway — the one with the den, library, and cave entrance through Bruce’s office. Bentley trailed along behind them, his heartbeat loud in his ears as he stepped ever-so-softly, eyes flicking here and there. The end of the hallway was dark and creepy. They weren’t ready for a fight, not in the slightest, although Damian’s fingers were twitching by his side like he was subconsciously searching for a sword. What if someone had broken in? 

It felt like an eternity before Duke pushed open the door to Bruce’s office, and they all peeked inside. Everything was in order. The desk was neat, the bookshelves were organized, the lights were off, and the grandfather clock was…

Open. 

The entrance to the Batcave was open.

Bentley breathed in, the familiar feeling of terror prickling at his skin. This was… so wrong. Everything was wrong. No one left the cave open. And why was it so cold in the house? Bentley only just realized that the prickling on his skin wasn’t terror alone, but also, the temperature in the Manor. It was cold like someone left the front door open for too long. Why was the cave open? Where was everybody? 

“Don’t worry, Babybird,”

Bentley brought a hand up to his forehead as a voice he knew all too well rang inside of his skull, sending an echo of vertigo through his head. She was here. The Secret Keeper. She was… she was…

In the Manor.

Duke and Damian filed into Bruce’s office, and Bentley followed slowly behind. There was something at the end of the hall. Someone, standing there. He could see the silhouette in the dark. It was a girl. It wasn’t Steph. It wasn’t Cass. Her eyes were glowing an amber-gold in the darkness, and she was staring at him.

“I won’t tell your secrets,”

She smiled a twisted, stitched smile, one Bentley could hardly see that terrified him all the same.

She was right there.

Bentley shouted in terror, swerving into Bruce’s office so quickly that he whammed into Duke face-first, thumping onto the hardwood from the force.

“Bentley!”

“She’s in the hallway!” He squeaked.

Everyone was suddenly moving. Bentley was trying to scurry away from the door at the same time Duke was trying to get between him and the hall, and Damian was going for Bruce’s desk, ducking under it and re-emerging with an actual katana in his hand. 

In a flash, Damian ran for the hallway, but Duke grabbed onto his arm with a shrill: “No. The light. I saw-”

“Unhand me,” Damian ordered, wrenching his forearm from Duke’s grip and jogging out of the room before he could finish.

“Damian, no!” Duke was moving to get Damian out of the hall, and Bentley was still pushing himself backwards on the floor until his back thunked against Bruce’s desk. Oh God, oh God, oh God. They were going to die.

When Bentley looked up, Damian was just standing there.

And his eyes were amber.

It was only a split second, but Bentley would probably remember it for the rest of his life — the way Damian stood there, blankly, his fiery-yet-cold greenish-blue eyes nothing more than empty, hollow as they shone the exact same amber as the Secret Keeper’s. 

And then he fell, the katana clattering off to the side. Duke was close enough to catch him, just perfectly, like he knew it was about to happen. He dragged Damian back into the office and slammed the giant wooden door, locking it behind him. 

“Don’t worry, Babybird. I won’t tell him your secrets,”

“C’mon, Bentley, stay close to me,” Duke ordered, hefting Damian up into his arms bridal-style. Bentley’s brain was hardly able to function with the Secret Keeper’s voice bouncing around in it, and he didn’t move. His heart was pounding and pounding and pounding in his ears and it was getting so hard to breathe.

The Secret Keeper was in the Manor. Talking to him, in the Manor.

They were going to die.

“Bentley! I need you to stay with me, little dude. Hey,” Duke crouched down, somewhat awkwardly since he was holding Damian, and his hand landed on Bentley’s shoulder. Their gazes locked, both pairs of brown eyes searching the other for a moment. One full of terror, the other soft with understanding layered over fear and determination. “I know it’s scary, but I need you to stay with me, okay?”

Bentley’s gaze fell to Damian, who was hanging limp in Duke’s arms, his eyes open but unseeing with waves of amber crawling across his irises like lightning. He was staring at Bentley, but he wasn’t seeing him. Damian looked…

Dead.

Bentley was suddenly back in that nightmare he’d had so long ago, tugging Damian’s lifeless body into his lap by his Robin suit. 

“Stop it. Get up! You’re Robin, get up!”

All he could see were Damian’s lifeless eyes, staring at him but not seeing. Damian couldn’t die… he was Robin, he couldn’t die.

Bentley couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. Couldn’t see. Couldn’t stop crying. He was on his knees, surrounded by the corpses of the Wayne’s that his father had killed in that nightmare so long ago. Damian was looking at him but his eyes weren’t seeing. Everyone’s eyes were open but they weren’t actually seeing anything. They were dead. They were dead. They all had amber pulsing in their irises and they were all dead. His father wasn’t in the doorway anymore, it was her. It was her with her amber eyes and they were all dead.

“Shh, shh, shh… I’ve got you, babybird. I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” 

They were all dead. They were all dead.

“Bentley, buddy, I've got you,”

Bentley couldn’t even think coherently enough to realize that the voice wasn't hers. He couldn’t stop seeing Damian’s amber eyes.

“I’ve got you, kiddo. Open your eyes,”

Open your eyes. That’s what he needed Damian to do — open his eyes, look at him again, not be dead. Damian couldn’t be dead, not after Bentley knew a way to fix their relationship. He couldn’t die. He couldn’t die. Robin couldn’t die.

“Bentley, can you try to open your eyes and look at me?”

Robin can’t die.

“I’ve got you, babybird. You’re safe now,”

He wasn’t safe. No one was safe anymore.

Someone was humming.

It wasn’t a song Bentley knew. He didn’t know many songs — but it was a song he might’ve heard before. He was moving. Only a little, back and forth, and something was touching him. 

His thoughts began to swirl like water going down a drain, Damian’s dead, amber eyes melding with the rest of everything in his head. What was going on? And who was humming? Was something touching his hair?

He was very… aware of his own existence. He could feel his heartbeat pulsing in his fingertips, his chest, his toes, his head. He could feel the terror twisting in his stomach, the air moving a bit-too-quickly in and out of his lungs. The wetness on his face. The something warm he was up against, the fingertips moving through his hair, the gentle rocking that the something warm was doing. The faintest of vibrations he could feel that coincided with the humming he heard. The fact that his eyelids seemed glued shut and he couldn’t see anything.

Slowly, like he was trying to pull open a tomb that had been sealed eons ago, Bentley opened his eyes. He was greeted by a blur of bright. Bright everything that swirled around for a moment before it started to come into focus.

He was in the medbay, facing the door to the rest of the cave. Sitting in a chair, but not actually in a chair, because someone else was in the chair and he was on their lap. Their fingers were moving through his hair with such a familiar rhythm that he knew exactly who it was.

“Dick,” He whispered, his voice and vision impaired by tears that were still coming without his permission.

“Hey there, kiddo,” 

Bentley blinked, looking at his own hands that were balled up in Dick’s blue t-shirt. “…What happened?”

“You’ve been having an anxiety attack, bud. For about twenty minutes now,”

Bentley looked up just far enough to meet the crystalline blue eyes that were so undeniably Dick’s. He had the vague intention of speaking again, but another hand landed on his head, this one from behind.

“Hey there, chum,”

Bentley breathed in and out shakily at the sound of Bruce’s voice, glancing at the room around them through his tears.

Everyone was down there. Barbara was at the Batcomputer, laser-focused on the screen. Cass and Steph were watching over her shoulder. Alfred was moving back and forth from machine to hospital bed, and Tim was in a chair just to the left of Dick’s, his leg bouncing almost impossibly fast. Duke was pacing behind them. Bruce was in a chair only a few feet to Bentley’s right, his hand still resting in his hair, right at the edge of a hospital bed.

The hospital bed had someone in it. 

And so did the one next to it.

The one Bruce had taken up residence next to held Damian. He was laying eerily still, attached to several machines that were beeping and whirring. His chest was rising and falling, much to Bentley’s relief, and the heart monitor next to him was beeping at a normal pace… but he wasn’t awake. He was just… laying there. Unmoving.

Bentley startled when the person in the other bed started screaming.

His eyes landed on the violently thrashing figure of Jason Todd, his wrists, ankles, and waist restrained to the hospital bed by thick leather straps Bentley didn’t even know they had. His eyes were closed, but he was throwing his weight around so forcefully that the whole bed was clacking and moving when he did. He was absolutely drenched in sweat, his entire gray t-shirt stained a darker shade, his hair wet and floppy and very unusual looking. He was breathing so hard and fast it rivaled Nico’s asthma, his expression constantly twisting between pain, rage, despair, and agony, over and over and over. 

Bentley gasped lightly, turning his head back toward Dick when the burning in his eyes threatened to double. Bruce’s hand left his head, and Bentley thought he might’ve heard him stand. “What… what happened? To Jason?”

Dick sighed lightly, gently pressing Bentley’s head against his shoulder as he carded his fingers through his hair. “Secret Keeper got him the same way she got me.”

Bentley sniffled lightly, glancing over just far enough to look back at Damian, laying so stiff it looked like a funeral. Bruce was standing between the beds now, and seemed to be talking to Jason, who was calming. “…And Damian?”

Dick breathed in. “Yeah. Dami, too.”

They fell silent when another round of screaming and bed clacking came from Jason. Dick didn’t do that when he was unconscious, so what was Jason seeing? Bentley must’ve recoiled at the noise, because Dick kissed his hair. “It’s okay, babybird. He’ll be okay.”

Dick didn’t sound entirely too convinced.

Bentley just stayed there for a while, fighting the urge to cry and keeping his face hidden every time Jason started screaming again. Bruce had moved his chair in the middle of the two beds. Bentley wasn’t sure when.

“She was… the Secret Keeper, she was upstairs,” Bentley muttered after a while. “She was here.”

Dick hadn’t ceased petting his hair. “It’s okay. Bruce and Cass cleared the Manor after you guys came down. Wherever she is, it’s not here.”

But the Manor is huge, he wanted to argue, but he didn’t exactly feel like arguing. Everything felt like a battle. Why was it so hard to just live? He’d been at school less than an hour ago, finishing off a more-or-less normal day of classes, and now? Now a raging supervillain had broken into the Manor, terror-coma-fied two of the closest things he had to brothers, and Bentley just had to have another anxiety attack about it. Why couldn’t he just have a normal life? Was that so hard?

He started crying.

“Why is this happening to us?” He managed between his quiet cries, bringing his sleeves up to scrub at his eyes. “I just… I can’t… I just want to live with you.”

That statement seemed to take hold of Dick for a moment, because at least five seconds of silence passed before he replied: “I know. I know you do, kiddo. It’ll all be over soon.”

Something like rage bubbled up in Bentley’s chest in place of his hopelessness, though the tears kept coming. “That’s what everyone keeps saying, but it’s a lie! It’s not getting better, it’s not ending, it’s just getting worse!”

Jason started screaming again, fueling Bentley’s tears until he was well and truly sobbing into Dick’s blue t-shirt. 

Screw life.

Dick tried a quiet: “It’ll be okay.”

“Stop saying that,” Bentley choked, somewhat venomous but mostly pitiful. 

“I love you,” Was what Dick resigned to, just like when he didn’t know what to say to Tim at the end of their conversation. 

Go away, Tim had said.

“I love you, too,” Bentley half-whispered. “But I hate everything else.”

Jason calmed, and the timer until he started screaming again began to tick. Dick kept on stroking Bentley’s hair while he cried for everything he hadn’t cried about yet. Part of him wished they weren’t superheroes. That his father had just wanted to destroy Bruce for being Bruce, that Bentley had gotten shoved into a normal family with a normal life. Everything else was exhausting. Draining. Maybe they wouldn’t be targeted so badly if they were just a family of civilians.

Jason started screaming, again. He started his ultra-violent thrashing, too, shimmying the hospital bed across the floor of the medbay with clacks and scrapes of metal on concrete. 

Tim abruptly stood from his spot beside Dick, looking rather sick. “I’m gonna go upstairs.”

It didn’t take a detective to realize that he looked like he might pass out. His skin was pasty, and his eyes were dull and sunken. He also looked kind of… green. 

“It… it would probably be best for all of us to stay down here together, Timmy,” Dick tried, but Tim didn’t listen, making his way out of the medbay and into the rest of the cave.

For the second time that day, Bentley watched one of his brothers hit the floor. Except no one was there to catch Tim when he went down.

Everyone seemed to move. Duke, Cass, And Steph all flinched in Tim’s direction, although none of them were close enough to actually catch him. Even Dick jostled Bentley around in his lap by nearly shooting out of the chair. Bruce stood quickly, holding a hand out toward Dick, rushing to Tim’s side.

Bentley clung ever-tighter to Dick as the tears came doubly as hard, listening to Bruce fuss over getting Tim in a third hospital bed, flinching at Jason’s screams, and watching Damian’s hands ball up and relax over and over against the sheets. The stress of everything seemed to build in his head, tighter and tighter and tighter until…

The world faded away.

—

When Bentley woke up, he was on a cot, on the floor of the medbay. There was a scratchy hospital-like blanket thrown over him, and a quick glance around revealed that Dick had nodded off in the chair they’d been sitting in. His arms were crossed over his chest and his head was down, his black hair hanging over his forehead, blue eyes hidden from sight. Alfred was on the farthest end of the medbay, running tests, it seemed.

Duke, Steph, Cass, and Barbara were out near the batcomputer, taking up residence on the floor. (And in a wheelchair.) Barbara and Duke were speaking quietly, And Steph looked to be asleep, her head pillowed on Cass’s lap. There was a map of Gotham on the Batcomputer behind them, red dots flashing near the docks of Gotham Harbor. Did that mean the burner calls had worked?

And now three beds had a Wayne in them. Closest to Bentley laid Damian, stiff with still curling and uncurling fists. Then came Jason, who wasn’t screaming, but was still writhing around on the bed like he was covered in ants. In the third bed came the small, fragile looking Tim, who was unconscious and still. He was hooked up to a lot more stuff than the other two.

And sitting right in the midst of all the beds, like he couldn’t make up his mind, was Bruce.

He was on the edge of his chair, his elbows resting on his knees, eyes trained on the floor below his feet. Bentley was sure he’d never seen him looking so… lost. He was fiddling with a ring that sat around one of his fingers, spinning it over and over to the rhythm of Damian’s heart monitor.

Bentley’s hurt for him. For everyone. For the whole world, at this point. What was Bruce supposed to do, watching three of his kids suffer like that?

Bentley pushed himself off of the little flat cot and onto his feet, earning him a little glance from Bruce. Neither of them spoke as the child padded across the room, stopping only when he made it to the man’s chair.

“I’m cold,” Was what he said, eyes flicking down to his feet. He actually meant I want to try and make you feel better with a little hint of please hold me, life sucks. He prepared himself for a rejection and walk of shame back to the cot — that’s what his father would’ve done.

Bruce leaned back and scanned Bentley with his gray-blue eyes, opening his arms up. 

“So am I,”

—

dedicated to @sassenashsworld 💚

—

tag list! (If you want me to remove or add you, ask in comments!)

@fleur-alise @sarcopterygiian @cademygod

[eisforeidolon]

I am sorry but I just need to vent about misha being an absolute creep. I am so goddamn tired of him constantly trying to insert himself into jensen and danneel's relationship saying danneel is his girlfriend or in the recent purgatory 8 con, his wife. It's so disrespectful towards their marriage, kids and family. I understand it may be a joke but there's a limit and misha always seems to cross that. It's like he's in love with the idea of having a threesome with the ackles. He always has something or the else to say about danneel sexually which is honestly creepy to me. And I've noticed how that makes jensen so uncomfortable, like dude that's his wife back off. He has done this soo many times over the years. Ughhh I strongly dislike him, idk how the others stand him after he makes such crass jokes. And the fans who ship the 3 together are soo toxic and delulu like which sane couple would want to include such a problematic person like misha into their relationship and make it an unhealthy environment for their children to grow up in. I'm sorry for the vent, I'm just very disgusted by him😶

No apologies necessary, because I agree, it's just so fucking weird.

We know the the Ackles primarily (if not exclusively) only hang out together with Misha around work-related events. On the one side, while Danneel has made some vague noises about being a fan of Misha/Castiel, and Jensen does talk about him as a friend? Most of Jensen's comments about him are dunking on him for being awkward, for saying shit he can't back up, and just generally ribbing him for the weird shit he gets himself into and what a strange guy he is. Then on the other side you have Misha frequently making these very sexual and/or suggestive quote unquote jokes about both of them. Like, I'd still think it was odd if they were all publicly sharing that kind of sexualized banter back and forth on a regular basis, but they aren't. It's always Misha starting it and often Misha doing it alone, metaphorically behind their backs. Which is a huge part of what makes it so creepy, because it makes him come off more like some weird invasive fan failing at boundaries who they have to publicly be nice to because ~*SPN fambily*~ rather than it being an understandable friendship that genuinely exists between them.

Which is bad enough, but you can't separate his behavior from the context of the fandom he's pointedly doing it for. The loud majority of people still buying his crap (ops/autos/merch) and potentially following any future projects he might have? Are hellers/cockles shippers. Who only really care about him in terms of fantasizing about him and Jensen together (and pointedly include Danneel to contrast themselves against the wife haters in the extreme J2 tinhatter camp). Which takes the whole thing from just awkward creepy into a very calculated, opportunistic user kind of creepy.

I'm not sure there's anyone or anything Misha wouldn't "joke" about being intimate with if he thought he could make a buck off it. He's shown over and over he has no integrity and blatantly lacks respect for other people if throwing them under the bus (or talking about them as a sex object) will play well with his audience.

[yuliasolsystem]

My thoughts about the nature of Legato's powers.

I think his real ability is a weak electrokinesis. To control his victims, he inserts a metal thread into his victims' spinal cord and conducts an electric current through it, overriding the electrical signals from the victim's own brain.

He doesn't need to touch the thread himself, which means he creates an electromagnetic field and can manipulate it to move his threads by will (in theory, a radio should make creepy noises in his presence, maybe something like his theme from '98 anime lol). Though this field is too weak to move heavier objects and can be interrupted by a stronger magnetic field

it can be big enough to cover an entire city.

And Legato's 'telepathy' most likely works as a sort of wired 'telephone,' his thoughts are transmitted through a thread directly to the brain of the person with whom he is communicating.

[faefae-chplashka]

Elvevator music playing - Chapter one

Snapping of twigs and crunching of dry leaves could be heard as a figure appeared through the trees. A solitary house stood in the middle of a leaf-strewn clearing, shadows cast from the shimmer of the moon. She purred - the figure, not the house - in delight. It emerged from the shadows, and there stood a "catman"... woman... whatever! It's not important, she was only cosplaying, her true nature unknown. She began her clumsy creeping towards the house. Crunching of leaves filled the clearing, and she silently cursed Luther von Ivory and his stupid little catmen out for not havng raked. Approaching the door, after a failed attempt at crossing the clearing quietly, she whipped out a key from  her pocket. Why she had a key to the Ivory household, would forever remain a mystery. But nontheless, she inserted the key into the keyhole and gently turned it, before a 'click!' signalised the door was open. She swung the door open, only to have to swiftly grab onto the doorknob to prevent the door from slamming into the wall and waking everyone. She groaned in annoyance, "Why does this house make so much noise?" 

She softly closed the door behind her, and silently snook in the direction of Luthers room, praying to a diety she likely didn't believe in for a silent door. And it was thankfully silent. She gazed into the darkness, and saw Luther, with his weird sleeping mask covering his eyelid-less eyes. His chest rose and fell regularly, indicating that he was asleep. One checked, four more to go. After closing the door, she walked, forgetting to be quiet, to Randal's room. His door was open, and the light from the hallway cast a shine over Randal's coffin, where he peacefully slumbered. She had never seen him so peaceful. He actually looked kind of like a decent kid. But he wasn't. Looks decieve don't they? In the darker part of the room, where the light didn't reach, was another coffin. That's where Sebastian had to sleep. He was wide awake, his eyes averting towards her as she stuck her head through the crack of the door. The fear on his face visibly changed into relief, and he sent her a tired smile. The "catman" waved back, smiling her usual goofy smile.

She then went back to rummaging through the house, towards the two catmens room. She stood outside their door, and twisted the doorknob, softer and quieter then she has ever done anything. The room was slightly messy, especially in and around Nyon's bed. Tissues, books and blunts were spread on the floor beside Nyons bed, but he was sound asleep. He looked peaceful. What a cutie patootie. She then turned her gaze to look at the top bunk bed, but a bang erupted from the kitchen, interrupting her, and she turned her head towards the sound in confusion. Realising she was going to be spotted, she franticly turned her eyes back and fourth, from one wall to the other, looking for somewhere to hide. But to no avail. A long shadow spread over the floor, ending right at her feet. 

She just stood there, as a tall catman - an actual one this time - walked towards her. He strolled slowly, one step at a time, looking like he had all the time in the world. When he finally approached her, she relaxed a bit. She should've been scared of him. He could potentially harm her if he wanted to. But first of all, she didn't seem to actually be scared of anyone. At least she did not show any sign of fear. Second of all, Nyen wasn't really as tough as he tried to come off as. She could probably beat his ass. Maybe she already had. That would remain between them though. I wouldn't intrude on such personal, intimate matters, and neither should you, pervert. As he roamed over her menacingly, with his usual bitchy face, he pulled out a box of cigarettes. But when he opened it, it was empty. "Nyun. You gotta stop coming here in the middle of the night. It's fucking creepy."

Nyun smiled. Nyen frowned. "And stop that. The thing you're doing? With you're face? Stop, seriously."

Nyun gave off a playful grunt, before Nyen pushed past her and started walking through the hall, in the direction of the house's exit. Nyun made a sound of confusion, as if asking where he was going. Nyen scoffed. "What'd you think I showed you the empty cigarette box for, idiot? I'm going to the corner store to buy me cigarettes. And you're coming with me. That's an order."

Nyun smiled and caught up to him, walking as close to him as possible. She almost thought she saw a little smile on Nyen's face, but that was probably just her brain playing tricks on her. They exited the house and made they're way through the forest. They were mostly silent, but sometimes Nyen would say stuff. Very rarely, but still, it happened. He would mostly go on about Luther though, but she still found it quite interesting. After they had walked for a while, they finally came to the store. It was tiny and looked quite cozy on the inside. It was cozy there, just as predicted. Nyen told Nyun to sit down while he bought the smoke, and she did. There were brown chairs placed by the large window, and she slumped down into one of them and buried her chin and nose in her scarf. She didn't have to wait for long before Nyen came and joined her, setting himself into one of the chairs and relaxing his body while lighting a cig. Pretty, tiny snowflakes cascaded down the night sky outside xvcas they sat there, in silence. 

After a few minutes, Nyen sat up from his chair and went back to the cash register. Nyun looked at him with pleased surprise when he came back, holding to cups of hot cocoa. Nyun smiled as he reached one of the cups towards her, and gladly took it. Nyen looked a bit flustered for a split second - of course Nyun noticed though - before regaining his regular self and sitting down in her chair, leaving no space between them. Nyun felt her cheeks warm up a bit, before she laid her head down onto Nyen's shoulder. Nyen put his  arm around her shoulders and whispered. "Don't tell anyone about this, you hear?"

His voice was softer than usual, still deep and raspy, but softer nontheless. It also had a shaky tone. Nyun looked at him reassuringly, and noticed his face was going red. She giggled, and laid her head back down onto his shoulder.

@phrandallanton

THIS IS W WORK IN PROGRESS I WILL MOST LIKELY EDIT THIS LATERRRRR THANKS FOR READINGGGG <3333333 (IT IS ALSO POSTED ON AO3 BTW)

[silentangel00]

The Batman

(Reader Insert)

Chapter 3: Losing Face

Chapter 2: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/731701435395358721/the-batman

You had gotten home around 11 PM obviously exhausted, but your nerves were too on edge after almost being shot tonight to sleep. A couple of hours later you realized you never did get your chocolate cake and you were very hungry. You turn on your TV for background noise and went to the kitchen to grab a snack, settling on sweet and salty popcorn you sat back down on the couch and started scrolling through your phone while you ate. You weren't paying attention to the TV until something ripped your attention away from your phone as you look up and turn up the volume in shock.

"... the city has been rocked by a second high-profile murder in as many nights. And this time the killer has come forward to claim credit online. His victim, longtime head of the Gotham City PD, Commissioner Pete Savage, was found dead earlier tonight inside the Police Athletic League facilities in the Tricorner area. The killer posted the followingmessage on social media. We have to warn you, the video is disturbing" The screen cuts to a hand-held video with a selfie view of the Olive Green Hooded Killer, a symbol on his chest that looks like a scrawled question mark within crosshairs.

"Hello, people of Gotham ... This ...is the Riddler speaking. OnHalloween night, I killed yourmayor, because he was not who hepretended to be. But I am notdone. Here ... is another ..." He swings the camera around to a bound man with a Cage-like box over his head. As the killer presses the camera further into the man's face you see for sure that is Commissioner Savage inside. His mouth was covered in duct tape with the words: "NO MORE LIES". You notice with horror the feral rats that circle his face. "... who will soon ... be losingface ... I will kill again andagain, until our Day ofJudgement ... when the Truth aboutour city will finally be Unmasked." The killer quickly leans into view "Good Byeee"

The video abruptly ends after we start to hear muffled shrieks. Almost immediately your phone starts to ring and you answer it without even looking at the caller ID, eyes still glued to the screen as the Newscasters continue.

"Y/N?" You hear Gordon as you bring the phone up to your ear.

"Yeah..."

"Have you heard yet... about Pete?"

"Yeah..."

"They're transporting his body to the morgue right now... I'll meet you there in an hour or so if you wanna go ahead and get a head start to look him over..."

"Yeah..."

"Ok see you then."

You hang up without a word and just sit there for a minute feeling absolutely numb. Another long night...

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

You had a couple of hours to properly examine the body before Gordon arrived, with Batman as well. You pull Savage's body out and pull down the cover to reveal the grotesque damage done. Gordon has to look away while Batman coldly assesses alongside you.

"He waited for him. At the gym.Pete liked to work out late at night when nobody was around." Gordon says catching us all up.

"There's a needle mark on his neck..." Batman states as you nod.

"Injected him with arsenic," You say grimly. Batman looks up at you, silent for just a second.

"Rat poison." He says still looking at you.

"Yeah, that seems to be his theme here." You say looking back at him. Gordon angrily steps away and you follow him as you show him the cage-like headbox on the evidence table that you had to detach from Savage's head. Inside is an elaborate network of channels.

"Look at this thing, It's a maze..." You say as Batman soon follows joining you and Gordon. He takes a UV flashlight and shines it on the creepy hinged box.

"What kinda demented SOB does this to a person?" Gordon says as he gazes inside the bloody maze. You follow Batman's flashlight as it shows a crudely painted cipher that runs through the floor of the maze, ending on a question mark in crosshairs.

"It's another cipher." You state.

"He blasted these out after his message went viral. This guy murders you and your reputation." Gordon says as he finds a stack of surveillance photos, in one of the photos the commissioner is shown emerging from the Iceberg Lounge, shaking hands with a shady-looking guy.

"That guy pushes drops. On the East End." Batman says causing you to quickly look at him hearing the mention of the drug. You made a mental note of what he said planning to look into that when you get back to the labs. Gordon continues looking on, pained, as Batman stares at another photo of Savage peeking into a cash-stuffed envelope.

"I don't get it. Why would Pete get involved in this?" Gordon asks in denial.

"Looks like he got greedy," Batman replies.

"You kidding me? After everything we did to take down the Maronis? We busted their entire operation, then he caves to some lowlife dealer?"

"Maybe he's not who you thought."

Gordon looks up at Batman "You make it sound like he had it coming..." You could feel the tension. You wondered if you should start de-escalating or not. Batman stands in silence for a moment.

"He was a cop...Crossed a line." He states. Gordon just sighs and places the pictures down on the evidence table. Batman seems to notice something. A button with the question mark in the crosshairs symbol on it. He presses it causing a hidden drawer underneath the box to pop open. Inside another envelope addressed: "TO THE BATMAN". Batman opens the envelope to reveal yet another greeting card. A cartoon scientist mixes beakers: "I'm MAD About You! Wantto Know My Name? Just Look Inside and See ... " Inside is a cartoon explosion; over it, it says: " But, Wait, I Cannot Tell You. It Might Spoil the Chemistry!"

Batman continues to read the scribbled handwriting at the bottom "Follow the maze till you find the rat -- bring him into the light,and you'll find where I'm at."

"The hell is that?" Gordon states in confusion.

"Bring him into the light? Find the rat?" You repeat also confused. Unnerved Batman stares at his name on the envelope.

"I don't know..." He says. You let out an exasperated sigh as you turn to cover Savage's body and push him back into the morgue cooler. Gordon looks on at you and slowly walks up noticing how tired you look.

"How you doin? I heard about what happened to you earlier tonight."

Batman immediately looks up curiously eyeing Gordon before staring directly at you.

"I'm...fine," You say half-heartedly "Just a little Gotham initiation never hurt anyone." You try to joke feeling suddenly very nervous and fidgety under not only Gordon's but also Batman's concerned stare. Gordon looks down and nods.

"Yeah... Well, let me drive you home tonight... And just so you know, if you need anything you got my number."

You give him a small smile and nod genuinely appreciating the offer, feeling a bit of a weight lifted off your chest. A cop appears on the stairs calling for Gordon's attention. "Lieutenant, they're coming back." he then immediately turns and heads back up the stairs.

"We gotta get outta here," Gordon says and heads towards the stairs. You follow him but stop as Batman turns to you, looking like he wants to say something. You look up at him as he seems almost unsure whether he should speak or not.

"What happened?" He finally asks.

"Um... nothing, just an attempted robbery..." You don't know why but you're having trouble talking about it, deeply wishing you didn't have to acknowledge it happening. Gordon turns around and huffs.

"You had a gun put to your head and almost got shot if you didn't get pushed out the way in time." You stare down at the floor in guilty silence. Batman stares at you seemingly struck.

"I'm sorry..." He says, you look up at him. Wait is this the first time he's ever talked directly to me?

"Thanks... I'll be fine." You say giving him a small genuine smile as well. It looked for just a second his usual cold hard looks almost softened just then. Immediately you shake off that thought.

I need some sleep.

Chapter4: https://www.tumblr.com/silentangel00/732845264415719424/the-batman