#Machete is very much one of those

[canisalbus]

I heard a while ago that Machete was a nickname/codename, is this true? Will we know his "real" name?

Yeah! It's what some of his colleagues started to call him, initially behind his back. Something between a mean-spirited nickname and a backhanded compliment that stuck.

Machete is very competent at his job as the Holy See's Secretary of State, believe it or not. Even those that have something against him have to admit that he isn't a complete waste of space. He's hardworking and diligent to an obsessive degree, and has developed a sort of a cold, ruthlessly efficient no-nonsense work persona. He's known for getting results, and can come across kind of intimidating and impersonal while doing it. The less charitable parts of the Curia view him and his willingness to work himself to the bone for the benefit of the Church as a useful but ultimately replaceable tool. He doesn't come from a noble family so he isn't anyone's priced heirloom sword, but he's excellent for clearing out obstacles while he's here.

[orcelito]

Gencon is very busy...!!!

Ummmmm highlights of the day..!!!

I maybe bought 4 Naruto figurines. Thankfully not individually expensive (though perhaps a little expensive all together...) see I wanted Sasuke but I also wanted Kakashi and I couldn't have Sasuke without Naruto and well it would feel wrong to have the 3 of them without Sakura and so I somehow. Got all 4. Haha. I'll most likely post pics later, whenever I end up opening them. I'm still at the convention center rn lol

(Putting the rest of this under a cut bc it got a little long lol)

I was on the field of the Lucas Oil Stadium, aka the stadium that the Indianapolis Colts play at. I've attended all of One game here (not professional football, it was a high school game lol) so I've felt the size of it, but it's still fucking crazy being on the field. It's so BIG...... and obviously they've got the grass covered rn, but it's still pretty cool!!!

I maaaade dice!!! Pretty precise process it seems, & definitely would require a Lot of work (after the sanding and the painting etc etc). I do still wanna get into it, but if I wanted to spring for stuff like the vacuum chamber or the pressure pot...

Yeah, it'd get expensive. Add in the fact that I don't have a good place to do this away from the cats & it really is not feasible to start rn. But!!! Eventually!!!! I think I'd really enjoy it. I just need a dedicated workshop space where I can spread out without worrying about poisoning my cats lol.

Here's some cool game set stuff I saw in the event hall. This picture is maybe... hm... a fourth of the event hall? And then when you consider that the vender hall (connected to the event hall, though it's closed right now) is maybe 1.5 times as big as the event hall?? Give or take a little...

Aka just imagine booths upon booths upon booths... I'm gonna have to take a pic of it tomorrow. I was there too briefly to think about taking a pic. Honestly I maybe managed to get through like a tenth of the whole vender hall in an hour of wandering. It's fucking huge. And So Many Dice... I bought one set of 14 (I think it was) dice. Aka an extended set. And then I got a random set bag of dice (just a basic 7). And then a d20 with a cat on it. And a dice of LETTERS. Aka I guess a d26 (I totally did not have to double check that there were 26 letters in the alphabet)(I have 702k words written & posted to ao3)(😂😂😂 I'm very tired) but with letters instead of numbers. And it's glow in the dark!!! And I found some hxh buttons, and a mighty nein poster, and uhmmmm. A cute lanyard. And that's all I bought. Which really is such restraint for me. (Omfg I just saw a dragon cosplay)(someone just dressed as a dragon)

OH YEAH I saw a fucking. Persona 5 Ryuji cosplay. Hanging out with the biker lady from Durarara. Featuring the Ryuji holding her scythe hfksbfmd which was such a funny image. I was too shy to ask for a pic but just trust 🙏 i saw this

Anyways yeah the only real big thing I bought is the naruto figurines. I'll show pics later once I got the stuff again (I dropped it all off in the car earlier)

Omfg literally as I've been sitting here (on a bench at the side of a main hallway) someone stopped by and gave me a handmade bracelet !!!

DND's 50th anniversary!!! So cute!!!!

[mrchoppedslefthand]

Homicipher Random Headcanons/Scenarios [NSFW]

Edit:11/07/2024

I desperately needed to post the random head canons and scenarios of our husbands that my brain kept cooking up (+ some from discord friends), so the list is not organized. Also, since we shape shift, I'm going to assume we can choose whenever we have a cock or pussy (because I want to be fucked and do the fucking) Anyways...enjoy the food thought.

Characters: Mr. Crawling, Mr. Chopped Mr. Silvair, Mr. Hood, Mr. Gap, Mr. Machete, Mr. Scarletella

Warnings: mentions of NSFW, mentions of some canon-typical violence, implications of dubcon, mentions of somnophilia, implied cuckold

Mr. Crawling

He can be submissive top. Constantly asking you if you love him during intimacy. He would ask if you enjoy playing with him as you pound yourself onto him. He would be a moaning mess and probably wouldn't know what to do about it as he clumsily places his hands around your waist.

He would definitely eat you out without you asking once intimacy had been initiated.

Afraid of hurting you, he wouldn't be too rough, instead he would be more tender and gentler when it comes to intimacy.

He definitely would love it when you play with his hair, allowing you to braid it or do whatever as long it doesn't involve cutting his precious hair.

He actually gets jealous easily, but he doesn't verbalize it, instead he shows it through his actions.

He is better with his hands, than his cock. So sometimes you prefer that over his cock. His cock is more on the average/smaller side and it's cute.

He definitely has a praise kink.

Mr. Chopped

He lacks a body, so to make up for it he is extremely expressive and open with his feelings. Which makes him a little fun to bully, to see all those cute expressions he could make.

He probably would be very good with his mouth and tongue, let him be your personal rose toy/fleshlight if you will. He can't fight back and have no choice but to whimper about it.

Imagine getting sick and fainting with him nearby, he can't move or do anything but helplessly cry for you to wake up and starts crying out help for Mr. Silvair to come help him and you.

Maybe one day, for a day of tricks and pranks. Mr. Stitch will allow Mr. Chopped a day in his body, so they swap places, stitching Mr. Chopped in place of Mr. Stitch's head. It had been a very long time since Mr. Chopped felt sensations beyond his head, so he happens to be very sensitive and clumsy with his hands. Everywhere you touch overwhelms him, he melts and becomes a moaning mess, but Mr. Chopped isn't the only one feeling all these sensations. Mr. Stitch can still feel it too. He is intrigued by today's type of play.

He definitely would be more on the whiny and needy side when it comes to pleasure, he lacks a body, but he can still feel lust. He can't do anything about it, which makes him extremely needy and extra pouty.

Mr. Silvair

Definitely would have had intimacy with other ghosts/humans before to research the body and performance during mid transformation if it differed.

Imagine one day he finds a mysterious liquid that fell from the 'other world' and feeds it to you, himself and the other ghosts in your crew. Only to find out it was an aphrodisiac. It was the first time he felt such a strong sensation of lust. At first, he mistakes this strong desire to be violence, so he starts to self-inflict wounds onto himself. You attempt to stop him, but soon find yourself to be underneath him as he bites into your neck, drawing blood. Surprised at seeing the often-composed man, turning into a ravage beast. You somehow manage to find something to tie him up and have your way with him.

He probably likes overstimulation on you...but also himself. He would love to research on how much his body can go and handle.

He would actually be a switch, for research purposes. To take and give he'd do anything for research. It had been long long ago since his body used to be human, and he often forgets about his own experiences if he doesn't write them down, but no worries, he has you by his side now to keep remembering.

Mr. Hood

He is quiet but speaks whenever he finds it suited for. But if you need him, he would be happy to talk with you.

He is a bit insecure about his body, he doesn't have arms or hands or even legs, he is an entity of nothing. The clothes are what shape his form, and well maybe he not entirely a entity of nothing. You had a glimpse before, a small glimpse and sensation of a squishy and somewhat slimy part that had belonged to him. You never mentioned though, but if it was you'd love him still anyways.

He realized that some words had been a bit harder for you to keep in mind and remember and so he thought of a special way to get you learning. Learning with what humans call pleasure. He fucks you and asks you what certain things are, and if you get it wrong, he denies you from coming. You have become determined to learn your words properly even more so now. Because if you remember you get rewarded with the most absolute fulfilling fuck of your life.

Since most of his body is invisible or nothing. If you mouth fucked him you would be able to see that real good, it is strangely erotic watching your cock move inside his mouth.

Mr. Gap

When you're sleeping, sometimes he might just cuddle against your leg or lower half. He loves the feeling of warmth, compared to his hollow darkness.

He definitely seems like the type of person to eat you out while you're asleep. Playing around and waiting for you to wake up to watch your reaction. Of course, he would only do this though if he knew you'd allow it. He values consent.

Imagine taking your backpack to school and you have to take out a pencil for a test. When you open your backpack, you realize it is just an empty void and hear a voice asking for your heart in exchange for the pencil. Yeah... you accepted your fate. You just failed your exam...

When you become a moaning mess under him, he can't understand but he knows that from your sweet voice, and moans, that it's a good thing. He knows to keep continuing.

One day Mr. Gap gathers his usual newspapers that fall from the rubble or somehow manages to grab one from the human realm. He notices a magazine that discusses about marriage and giving rings on the fourth finger. Intrigued about this idea, he asks you for your all four of your fingers, but you misunderstand and refuse to give him your fingers. He's sad but soon you later find out that he was asking for your hand in marriage, literally but also figuratively.

Mr. Machete

We would wonder aimlessly for an eternity together searching for his/your home. But eventually our subconscious would recognize each other as home instead.

He would definitely mock and laugh at how fast you would falter/melt under his touch. Calling you "weak" for coming so fast but would give kisses here and there after the mocking.

He'd probably be into throat fucking and laugh at you looking pathetic, he loves reactions that aren't boring, so seeing you choke on his cock seems like a great idea.

He definitely would come inside most of the time.

When he fucks you, his cock would probably bulge out a little from your stomach, fascinated by it he'd roughly press his hand down near that area.

He is our beefy dumb macho, perfect.

If you mouth/fucked him he would tell you he feels nothing, but his eyes would already be red and tearing. He's a pathetic coward.

Mr. Scarletella

He belongs to you, and you belong to him, together forever, in a hellish world. He loves the destruction you bring into his life and does the same for you.

Oh boy, he would absolutely devour you, his queen, in pleasure. Fuck you stupid to the point you're just a blabbering mess, hands on waist, and long fingers in your mouth, as he pounds deeply into you.

He seems like the type of guy to fuck you during your period.

Definitely gets jealous easily and he makes it know when he gets that way.

Imagine your fucked/fucking another ghost and you hear static within the distance, the sound slowly starts to come closer and closer until you hear the static in the room. Your crimson servant arrives and witnesses your fantastic display of intimacy. Jealous, he kills them and becomes extra possessive and quite terrifying, but you love it so much. How he seems so lost and pathetic without you.

You don't know his name, but neither does he know yours. Despite this disconnect, you still manage to give him some sort of other named to be called. It's connected to your name, but he knows it's not all of it, he can't fully whisk you away, but he's okay with that. You are still bound to him for an eternity anyway.

If Mr. Scarletella went back to the human world with you instead, he would appear to be the one most suited for fitting in. Just slack some foundation on his face, make him wear gloves and he would blend in quite well. Well...except for his odd habit of asking every stranger for their name and laughing and giggling crazily each time.

He would have a praise and degradation kink, he's not a whore. He's YOUR whore. He likes being YOURS.

[ramen8008]

Tony having a list of habits of the avengers that annoy him yet also altering the entirety of the compound to meet those habits.

Tony: You realize how annoying it is to have you in my vents?? Just let me breathe my 5 million dollar air in peace

Also Tony installing a proper scanner which doesn't ring any alarms if Barton is in the vents but instead just makes in a video compilation of each time he falls.

Tony: Thor I swear to the Gods. If you take one more Pop tart from me I wil-

Also Tony bulge buying Pop tarts for every time Thor visits.

Tony: Cap how do you not kn- No being frozen for 80 years is no excuse. This is vital part of history, No I don't care that it's "just a show" this changed lives

Also Tony installing a "Cap is confused again" Protocol on FRIDAY for each time there's anything Steve doesn't understand which might be basic knowledge to everyone else so FRIDAY can give him a summary of it all.

Tony: Nat you need to stop hiding weapons everywhere. I can't be going around finding machetes in the compound!

Also Tony providing her as much space she needs for her weapons in each room if that's what she needs to feel safe.

Tony: No! No magic. Wanda you go through my head again and I swear you'll regret it. My therapist quit, you think you can handle it? Nuh uh this is a magic free household young lady.

Also Tony installing a whole new simulation based training room so she can practice her magic properly.

Tony: Bucky, I know I'm rich but can you please stop crushing my equipment and cups

Also Tony very gently talking to Bucky about everything he is doing step by step as he checks up Bucky's arm. Giving him his own room with open windows so he doesn't feel trapped with every bit of little hobby he might pick up from knitting to painting to playing the piano. A bookshelf with the entire limited edition of The Hobbit and every 40s music he might like. And some more recent songs in case he decides to "stop being old".

Tony: Strange I need you to stop doing that shit. I understand you're a wizard but don't they have rules for that? Like no magic outside of Hogwarts until you're 17? None of that weird stuff in the tower... ever.

Also Tony creating a special meditating room for Stephen with Pink Floyd playing where he can just calm down for a while in the tower and somehow a room in the mirror dimension when he really wants peace and quiet.

Tony: Vision I know you're an AI who is very interested in human nature and I am flattered but I swear if I hear one more explosion because you tried to learn knitting or the piano I will find an off switch whether or not you have one.

Also Tony making every single hobby Vision wants to pick up possible in the best way. Providing him his own kitchen to getting him a piano teacher because he wanted to experience "learning by being taught"

Tony: Banner I get that you have everything under control which is great but my lab is not big enough for The Hulk

Also Tony making his lab big enough. Getting him his own lab. Making sure he had everything he needed to calm down when he couldn't control the Hulk. Labeling him as the "strongest avenger". Getting him a therapist. Making sure he never feels alone yet always has peace

Tony: Rhodey you need to understand that when I say I'm fine I'm fine. You act like such a party pooper you know that?

Also Tony who trusts Rhodey with his life and everything. Making sure Rhodey never feels lesser than. Who couldn't be more grateful that Rhodey stuck by him throughout everything and always stayed. Tony always turning to him for advice and no matter how much he acts like Rhodey is being a bummer always takes his words to heart.

Tony: Peter.... Don't walk on the ceiling! Oh my God don't die! What the hell kid please don't explode your homework again! Your aunt is going to KILL me! You mess with the suit again and I- No , you can't borrow my suit what do you mean? I told you to stay back, tell me what you interpreted that as? No the adults are talking.

Also Tony doing everything that kid wants no matter what. Making sure his suit is so safe that he might as well be immortal. Buying him everything he even remotely suggests to liking. He has his own room in the tower cause of all the time he spends in the labs.

"You want to test out this new thing with your webs but it requires this extremely expensive and toxic chemical? As long as you wear proper protection!"

"you said you had to write about a famous place you went to but since you haven't travelled much you were gonna write about the Stark exhibition or times square.....So I got you these world tour tickets. I think they hit every landmark , just message me the ones they don't and I'll handle it. And don't worry there are two so your aunt can go with you"

[angelbarelywrites]

♡ slashers scenarios | first meeting (part 2)

♡ fandoms; Friday the 13th, House of Wax, Black Christmas, Scream (kinda)/ Dead by Daylight, slashers (general)

♡ characters; Jason Vorhees, Bo Sinclair, Danny Johnson, Billy Lenz, Bubba Sawyer

♡ reader; gender neutral

♡ cw; Billy Lenz, mentions of violence and general slasher activity, kidnapping, stalking

♡ notes; i didn’t include Bubba last time, so i slipped him in with the pt 2 team :v

also for ghostface i went with Danny over Billy + Stu, just because i’m more comfortable writing older characters tbh. and he’s very attractive to me. maybe i can do a college au fic of them in the future?

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

Jason Vorhees

> you were lost

> utterly, hopelessly lost without a map, compass, or even your backpack

> you were out camping with a couple of new friends when you wandered off to pick flowers

> well, acquaintances more like- they weren’t particularly nice to you, but you knew one from your home town

> before you knew the sun was starting to set and you had no clue which way to go

> you’re kicking yourself for being so dumb but try to make the best of it, continuing to collect flowers and pretty rocks

> soon enough you find yourself on the edge of a lake

> that couldn’t have been good- there weren’t any lakes near the campsite at all

> maybe this was that old summer camp they’d mentioned?

> either way you turn around and try your best to retrace your steps

> but even with a full moon it’s just too dark and too dense and you’re exhausted

> holding in tears, you find a small meadow and finally sit to rest

> you’re still sniffling and rubbing your eyes when someone walks up to you

> you were so oblivious that Jason was able to get a few feet in front of you before you noticed

> he seems…perplexed to find you there

> he thought he’d gotten all of the campers

> and you didn’t really look like you belonged with those fornicators

> (or at least that’s what he told himself to justify leaving you alive)

> he’s holding his machete and soaked with your companions’ blood, but you don’t seem to notice

> “…can you take me back to my friends?”

> well he most certainly cannot do that, not if he wants you to like him- though he’s not sure why that matters

> he’s still staring so you, exhausted, do the only thing you can think to

> “…do you want a flower? I picked a lot”

> he’s delighted and takes it before finally gesturing for you to follow him

> you can’t keep up, so eventually he picks you up

> and like that you’re nearly dozing off

> you don’t even notice he’s taking you back the way you came from

> and he’s glad- he wasn’t going to give you much of an option anyway

Bo Sinclair

> single travelers are so much easier to deal with

> so when Lester gives him the call that some college kid was stuck on the road, he’s eager for an easy catch

> you take your sweet ass time getting to the station- even though Lester drove you most of the way you let him drop you off just outside of town

> the smell of the truck was really getting to you, and you’re happy to let the dog lead you

> when he strides out you’re cooing over Jonesy and giving her a belly rub for her troubles

> he’s seen his fair share of attractive victims

> men, women, and folks that didn’t fit either category

> and he’s slept with most of them

> but you… there’s something extra special about you

> he decides right there he’s not taking care of you without at least getting a taste

> you’re not too impressed by his flirting- or at least you try and act like it

> but he catches your pink cheeks and quiet giggles as he takes you on a walk

> because of course he’s got the part down the road at his place

> by the time you get there he’s decided he’s marrying you - or maybe keeping you tied up, beggars can’t be choosers

> he’s impulsive but he’s never wanted to keep anyone before

> “hey sugar-“ god your face heats up just hearing him call you that “turns out I don’t have that part you need. It should be in by tomorrow, if you can stay the night?”

> you say yes before you can think critically- he’s good at getting folks wrapped around his finger like that

> “Good. Cause I’m just dying to show you some real southern hospitality…”

Danny Johnson

> he knows you long before you know him

> he’s a natural nosy guy- he’s a journalist after all

> and a serial killer, of course stalking is on his to do list

> originally you were going to be a victim

> you’d make a good story, a young person taken tragically early

> but you were too cute to die just yet- he had to at least meet you, just once

> if you were a dick no one would say anything nice for your article, right?

> so he just happens to bump into you outside your work one day

> literally bump

> when you spill coffee all over yourself he smoothly apologizes and offers to help clean you up

> “What a mess- I’m so sorry sweets. Let me take care of all this”

> and you fall for it, hook line and sinker

> he’s a handsome guy, he’s used to that but he’s smug anyways

> he gives you a spare shirt of his, though you still skip work

> he buys you another coffee and you sit in his car chatting

> you’re innocent enough to trust him like that- to get in a vehicle with a strange man?

> a strange man that’d been stalking you, no less

> it’s adorable- if he wasn’t so attached he could kill you right there

> but you’re just so damn sweet, and genuine

> and you’re so fascinated by these Ghost Face killings…

> maybe you’re worth keeping around for a bit

> just a bit

> that’s what he says to himself anyways

> when you meet him as Ghost Face, it’s after you’ve already got him all figured out

> and he’s lucky that you like a bad boy

Billy Lenz

> it’s a given that you first meet him over the phone

> you’re renting out a spare room from Mrs Mac, not in the sorority but a good enough tenant that she keeps you around

> you get along well with the girls and cook them meals, run study sessions and help clean

> it’s almost parental at times, even if you’re not far off in age

> Billy hates you at first, for taking such good care of ‘filthy piggy whores’

> he tells you just as much over the phone, but you’re not bothered

> you never seem to be bothered by his calls

> and that pisses him off more

> but you’re so so cute… it quickly becomes an obsession

> he’s in your walls constantly, watching you

> and the calls from the moaner start coming more and more frequently at times you’re home alone

> one day you just start giggling at him, tipsy “you know, you scare the girls,”

> “good i—“

> “but your voice is sooo nice. that’s why i pick up so much”

> you didn’t mean to confess that , and you hope he takes it as an awkward joke

> when he hangs up you think that maybe he did take it that way

> its not until late that night that you realize that he knew he was sincere

> before you can register that there’s anything wrong he’s covering your mouth and pinning you to your bed

> “hi there, baby doll,”

> his grin gets huge when your still horrified face goes bright red

> he always knew you were perfect

Bubba Sawyer

> you pick up Nubbins hitchhiking one day, and he’s just dumbfounded by you

> you’re nonplussed by his rambling and you don’t squirm at his yucky pictures. you don’t even kick him out, just drop him off at the gas station.

> you’re not really his type, but you’re fascinating

> he’s gotta get you home to meet his brothers

> so he pops your tires when you go inside- all four

> when you come back out Drayton is cursing him out and smacking him upside the head

> he makes him take you back to the house to rest up while he gets you tires

> of course he intends for Bubba to kill you

> but Nubbins doesn’t pass the message along, because he’s Nubbins

> “Here Bubba! I made us a new friend!”

> you shyly greet him, but he’s an oddly calming presence

> let’s be honest you’ve gotta be okay with a lot fast to like the Sawyers

> so maybe you’re just in denial about the material

> but you tell him you like his mask- and you do

> he obviously worked really hard on getting the makeup just right- and it compliments his suit

> he stares at you a long while before taking your hand and giving you a grand tour

> well, more a tour of his favorite spots

> the chicken coup, a patch of wildflowers out back, and his room full of trinkets collected from victims

> you’re strangely enamored by this big, quiet man

> and you don’t get the sense you’re allowed to leave

> especially when Drayton comes home and goes on and on about witnesses

> but you didn’t really even have an end goal in mind on your road trip anyways

> and now you’ve got Bubba to protect you

> maybe it’s not so bad, stuck with those weirdos

[slashersdaddy]

Hallo! I absolutely love Your writing! Can you make Another writing about Slasher x S/O that Accidentally Kill The Slasher Victim/Target? But with Jason, Michael, Brahms And Maybe Stu? I'm sorry if it was Too much To Ask. Take your time!

Of course! I love drawing for those guys!!!! I appreciate the support for my writing! Its not too much at all! I went ahead with using GN reader, since you didn't specify what gender, and i like writing GN anyhow! AS USUAL! MDNI: ALSO THERE ARE CLEARLY MENTIONS OF MURDER, ALSO BLOOD AND GORE+ A MAKEOUT SCENE

Authors note at the verrrryy end ;)

Jason Voorhees:

Jason's eyes raked over your blood soaked form, his mind reeling as you stood- over the blood soaked body. Hands shaking as you opened and closed your mouth several times, trying to find your words, but alas; you found nothing. Now dont get him wrong, Jason thought the look of you, soaked in blood was beautiful, but frightening- as this meant he had failed at keeping the victims away from the cabin.

No, failed at knowing where the victims were, and that in of itself was a grave crime. He walked towards you, lowering his blood drenched machete to the floor and pulling you into his broad chest, a low rumble of a hum escaping him. Jason is a man of few words, especially in times of stress, being mostly mute, but his voice- rough with misuse and drowning, came through the air like a soft comfort "I'm so sorry teddy bear, dont worry, your safe now" His tender words soothed you, and you felt yourself relaxing into his embrace, a breath heaving out of your chest that you didn't even realize you had been holding. Tenderly he led you to the small bathroom, running the water while sitting on the edge of the tub, you nestled into his lap as he drew the hot bath.

Soon the tub was full and Jason carefully and methodically removed your clothes, just as you found your words. "I-I'm sorry Jase, i just- they came in and i-" Your shaking voice pierced his cold heart like a sharp blade, his rough fingers stroking your hair, his blue yes finding yours under his mask as he lowered your shaking form into the warm water "Its alright, dont worry" He gently rubbed the blood off your trembling form with a wet rag, his eyes soft and calm as he cleansed your form. You sat in the bath for well over an hour, his silent form just rubbing away all of the blood until the water had turned a deep crimson and run cold.

As you rose from the bath, he wrapped a large towel around you. The towel was large and smelt of the forest and petrichor, mixing with Jason's scent as he carried you to your shared bedroom, laying you tenderly on the bed, pulling the blankets back and wrapping around you as though you were his stuffed animal, his hands tangling in your hair as he scratched your scalp with a contented hum.

Before you fell asleep only one thought crossed your mind- "He's right, I'll be fine, as long as i have him"

Michael Myers

As you watched, in seemingly slow motion as the would be victim lunged at Michael your instincts took over- your hands grasping a nearby butchers knife as you threw your body onto the attacker, driving the knife into his chest. Once, Twice, Three times. Before strong hands pulled you off and Michael's soothing voice broke your haze. "Its over. He's dead dove" The nickname he had called you for so long felt wrong in that moment as you began to shake, dropping the knife to the floor with a loud clatter, your hands flying over your mouth, the warm blood covering you a sickening sensation.

Michaels piercing eyes trailed your body, searching for wounds. He couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips as he saw you, his beautiful dove, drenched in blood and gore- as though you were his very own angel he was corrupting- it was exhilarating.

But alas- he pushed those thoughts aside in favor of hugging you close, his strong arms trapping you in his warmth, the soft thumping of his heart soothing your frayed nerves. Michael took you to the bathroom, guiding your shaken form, his large hand rested on the small of your back, rubbing soothing circles. Michael knew he needed to focus on you right now, and not in the way his mind initially went when he saw you- stabbing the man who was meant to be his victim. So he sat on the toilet, running the bath till it was full, holding your body close to his own and kissing your face, to ease your stress, it was a silly thing, since he was really just smooshing your face with his mask, but it made you smile, and to Michael that's all that mattered. Once the water was up to the brim Michael stripped you, the clothes hitting the floor with a wet disgusting squelch as he put you into the water, grabbing his body wash and washing you with it. Normally he didn't like you using his soap, a peculiarity thing he had, but right now, he figured he'd rather you smell like him than like some wimp. so he worked on cleansing your body, hands nimble and soft on your flesh as he tended to you as though you were a frightened lamb.

Soon you found yourself in the living room once more, donned in one of Michaels oversized t-shirts and a pair of your own underwear, curled in the Halloween killers lap atop the couch, resting your head on his chest while you watched 'nightmare before Christmas' an old favorite of yours that Michael rarely sat though, not without busying himself with something else, but tonight, just for his little dove, he would sit with you, and let you hide in him while taking in the comfort of a familiar movie.

Brahms Heelshire

As your weapon of choice- a large metal pipe you had seen laying around made contact with the mans skull your eyes widened- the sickening crunch much louder than you ever thought it could be, the scream of pain cut short as his jaw was mangled, his body slumping to the floor, thrashing as he passed. Your mind reeled, and you found yourself leaned over- puking up what you had eaten earlier, it was sickening- the smell of death- the-the way the blood pooled in the carpet, surly to leave a stain.

The way your mind had rushed with dopamine at the way you smashed his skull. It was all too much, too much for you to bear. You honestly hadn't even felt Brahms arms wrap around your torso, or him pulling you into his chest until you felt the world stop spinning and looked up to see you were in the kitchen, sitting on a chair while he busied himself with making you tea, his head perking up at the sound of you moving and turning to you, his voice cherry as always "You are so so good, you followed the rules so well honeysuckle!"The endearing term brought you back down to reality- right, you HAD to do it, for Brahms, for his safety and so he wouldn't be hurt- it was only normal right? You reasoned with yourself, after all you took care of him, and he shouldn't deal with any more pain than he already had, you nod to yourself as he sets the cup in front of you, the scent overwhelming any lingering scents on you, lavender and chamomile, a calming sweet scent that rose to your nose quickly.

Brahms hands were gentle as he began to massage your tense shoulders, nuzzling into the back of your neck as you slowly rose the cup to your lips, taking a small slow sip of the liquid gold.

The rest of the night was a blur, Brahms leading you to your room, tucking you in and placing his doll beside you on the bed before taking his station near the door, watching you with a small smile as you cuddled into the warm blankets "That's right honeysuckle- your mine forever"

Stu Matcher:

Stu's eyes roamed over your blood soaked form as you tried desperately to tell him you weren't in fact the killer; but your words failed you.

only for Stu to laugh and smile at you shaking his head, walking over the body at your feet to pull you into an embrace, whispering in your ear- voice low and rumbling as he said "Oh I know that sweet thing~ its okay, you were just doing your best to survive, but you dont have to be scared of any big bad killer- ill protect you my little lamb" His voice was like honey- but held a chilling realization for you, the guy you had killed- he wasn't the Ghostface killer; rather your loving boyfriend was. The feeling was like a tidal wave crashing into you, but so soon followed by relief.

Stu wouldnt abandon you; he would stay even with the blood on both your hands nothing changed, you realiized as he crashed his lips against yours in a dominating and affectionate moment.

The kiss was deep and powerful, leaving you breathless as he pulled away, a strand of saliva connecting you for just a moment. snapped as Stu licked his lips "Its okay, now lets get this asshole in the ground yeah?" He asked, his usual playful demeanor coming back, and so you nodded, taking the spare Ghostface mask he held out "And on and on it goes"

AUTHORS NOTE: I ADORED writing this, especially Stu's part; if enough interest is shown (Or the parasites demand ;P) I may make that a whole fic and not a snippet; but that remains to be seen~ Happy spooky month my lovely little freaks!

[misscinnamonroll16]

Brozone headcanons

Clay is the type of brother to not believe what any of the others tell him. Whether they're lying to him or not, he don't believe them

John Dory can get his brothers to fall asleep in minutes. He's got all the tricks that knock them out. They worked when they were kids and still work now that they're adults.

Whoever ends up with John will get a wonderful lil house husband. He can cook, clean, bake, sew, and take care of children. Basically a house husband (or pod in this case)

John definitely dated Delta Dawn. They broke up bc they were too similar and too different. This was shortly after the band broke up and before Delta became queen. They were both young and adventurous. They wanted to travel the world together but Delta had responsibilities that she couldn't leave.

Floyd had ONE girlfriend. When he got on his own, Floyd told people he was bisexual bc he knew he wasn't straight but he thought he liked girls. He and that girl broke up on good terms bc she understood when he told her he's gay.

Floyd is scared of clowns

Bruce probably traumatized the little brothers more than John Dory did. He was the one that would force them to go into a haunted house, purposely jump out with a scary mask on type stuff

Drinks of choice: JD prefers whiskey, Bruce likes margaritas and brandy (obviously), Clay doesn't drink often, he likes white wine while he reads, Floyd likes SHOTS SHOTS and mixed drink (club/party drinks), branch doesn't drink much either but likes wine and occasionally mixed drinks.

Floyd is the holder of all the family secrets. He's really good at keeping them secret. Bruce and John are too but they're also known for telling embarrassing stories so none of the brothers want to tell them their secrets and risk it getting leaked

John is incredibly handy, he's very good at fixing most things. He can FIX things most of the time. He's no good at building.

All the boys are hopeless romantics

When one of the brothers (excluding Bruce in this case) get married after reuniting, they are all excitedly helping plan the wedding

Floyd can walk in heels

John Dory handles his machete very well. Nothing gets cut that he doesn't want cut. He also flips it around like a butterfly knife

When JD and Spruce went out to those teenage parties, they had a silent rule of one of them had to stay sober to make sure the other didn't do anything stupid, was safe and they both got home in enough time to get some sleep before having to wake up for the day. Spruce made sure John didn't wander off while stoned and listened to him talk whatever came to his high mind. John Dory made sure Spruce didn't eat something he wasn't supposed to while stoned or do anything stupid while drunk. It was never discussed but they knew that one of them had to be responsible for the other

Despite the band getting back together, both John and Floyd have sole careers that take off. Floyd is more for the performing and shows, JD is more for releasing songs and disappearing for several months. Floyd is selling out shows, John is dropping a song on YouTube that blows up within the first ten minutes. Brozone fans eat it up

While on stage and interacting with fans, the boys do very different things. John Dory leans towards the crowd and the fans go wild, he's a bit taken back but blows them a kiss (cue someone fainting). Bruce still plays up the heartthrob card, showing off his body, a fan yells and calls him daddy. He whispers into his mic "I didn't give you permission to call me that." in a flirty tone, cue the deafening screams. Clay was always shocked a little bit when fans start screaming when he gets close to the end of the stage, he's talking into his mic like "you good? You need something?" which causes the fans to all scream something at him. Floyd is the most memeable, hes making faces and sitting on the edge of the stage. He didn't used to that but after V&V he gets tired pretty quick. So he often ends up laying on the stage, his leg hanging off, his mic by his head along with a bottle of water. Clay kicked him off once and nobody knows if it was on purpose or not. Branch is NOT used to the fans. They're screaming at him and he's backing away. He's also very memeable until he gets more used to it. He didn't perform as much as his brothers (by that i mean he only truly performed once)

Bruce teaches John Dory how to surf. After several hours he gets the hang of it, it's like skateboarding only rougher.

Bruce sometimes watches his boys and sees him and his bros. Theyre wrestling and he can practically see himself, Clay and Floyd on the floor of their Grandma's pod

Grandma Rosiepuff spanked JD and Bruce with a wooden spoon. By the time she stopped, Clay was old enough for him to be next, so he got lucky. The wooden spoon she used had a wooden chunk taken out of it from when she hit John once. They find it while going through her old stuff that Branch had.

"Hey look it's the whooping spoon!"

"The what?!"

"The whooping spoon. The spoon grandma used to spank us."

"What makes you say that?"

"You see this chunk taken out, that's from my ass."

[thevoicefromanotherworld]

"BLOOD ISN'T A PROBLEM FOR ME"

This is a little Drabble, headcon, short fic? (I don't know how to define it lol) with Sergei while you're on your period.

I hope you like it!

Sergei knows you're ovulating.

He can smell your blood, and hear the way it pumps through your entire body until it reaches your core.

He also knows that it's the time of the month when you're most sensitive to his presence.

He's aware of how much any of his movements affect you, a simple grunt or one of the sidelong glances he gives you are enough for the hunter to smell the penetrating aroma of your arousal in the air.

At that moment you're sitting on the couch, watching one of your favorite movies with a huge bowl of popcorn in your hands.

Sergei is sharpening his machete on the opposite side of where you are, although that doesn't stop his gaze from lingering on you every so often.

Your gaze stops at the rhythmic movement he makes with the blade on the stone. His huge hand covers the stone completely, sending unethical thoughts to your brain.

The fact that he has a pair of muscular arms doesn't help either, as you can see the veins on them moving under his skin with every movement.

He is very aware of how with every movement, the scent of your arousal mixed with that of blood has been increasing.

It is then that he puts the stone aside, and looks up at you, placing it on your eyes.

You try to look away so that he doesn't catch you red-handed, but it's too late, he was faster than you, as always.

A half-smile forms on his lips when he asks:

-What's wrong, prekrasnyy? (gorgeous) Isn't the movie interesting? –he asked, tilting his head towards the television-

-Yes –you swallowed hard- it's just that… I… –you shook your head- forget it

-It's nothing, dorogoy –he tells you reassuringly- you know you can tell me, right?

-I know –you nodded- it's just that… I'm a little embarrassed

Your cheeks blushed like a schoolboy, and Sergei couldn't help but smile a little more.

To him, you were the most adorable thing he had ever seen.

He held your gaze, while putting aside the gun and the rock to approach you. Without needing to speak, he picked up the bowl of popcorn and placed it on the central table, before looking at you again.

His blue eyes connected with yours strongly. He raised his hand, and ran his thumb along your lower lip, making you gasp under his touch.

-Tell me what's wrong, little one - he whispered, placing his hand on your cheek-

-I… you know that I'm in those days of the month - you began under his watchful gaze - and… well… I… - you stuttered nervously - I need you - you murmured, looking down at your lap - but… the blood… I don't know if you…

-Look at me, dorogoy (Darling) - he asked softly, you did what he told you, his blue eyes locked with yours - I'm a hunter - he reminded you - blood is not a problem for me, you know that, right? –he asked, you nodded-

-Yes, I just wouldn't know if you… -you murmured- if you would love me like this

-I will always love you in every way possible, malen'kiy (Little one) –he said lifting you up, slowly removing the blanket you were covering yourself with- your smell… -he growled, closing his eyes tightly for a moment- is driving me crazy –he confessed- I'm gathering all my self-control to not rip your clothes off and sink inside you

His words sent a current of desire throughout your body straight to your center, which he felt, hearing how your blood accumulated in the place between your legs.

-Sergei… -you sighed as he leaned down to leave small kisses on your neck- I don't want you to hold back –you said, making him open his eyes wide-

-Are you sure? -he asked- I don't want to hurt you

-I'm sure, I… -you blushed again- I need you too much for you to be gentle

-Okay, prekrasnyy –he murmured leaving a loving kiss on your lips- let daddy do all the work

[rabbitblackx]

Heyy authorr!

Can u please do some slasher their reaction when the s/o give them a new weapon :)

i just want Michael and Jason in it. the rest can u choose.

Reader gives Michael and Jason new weapons

Michael Myers💖

One day while Michael came over to visit, you presented him with a gift. With a big smile, you held out a large, sharp kitchen knife for him. A big red bow was tied around the lacquered, wooden handle of the blade. Michael tilted his head to the side, observing the present for him laying in your palms

“I saw it at one of those fancy kitchen stores today!” You explained. Michael remained silent as he took his black eyes off the knife and to your excited features. “It’s so nice and shiny—and sharp! It was too good to pass up. I thought you might like it.”

Michael slowly reached his hand up to take the knife from you. He inspected it curiously in his grasp, staring at his masked reflection in the silver blade

Michael wasn’t very good at expressing gratitude as he rarely ever felt it, if at all. Several days passed and he had already used your present a numerous amount of times. The blade was still razor sharp but not as shiny, as blood was smeared all over

Michael walked home through the quiet streets of downtown Haddonfield. He passed some closed stores, with knickknacks and whatnots displayed in the front windows

Something caught his eye from behind the glass of a gift shop. He halted to a stop, peering through the window. A plush teddy bear smiled back at him in the dark. A big red bow was tied around its neck, much like the one you put on Michael’s knife

You stayed up waiting for Michael to return home. You sprung off your bed and to your feet when you heard the front door creak open. You skipped over to the door, beaming at Michael through the dim lighting

“Hi, Michael.” You cooed

The floor whined under his boots as he approached you. He was hiding something behind his back. Just as you were about to ask what it was, your eyes suddenly lit up with joy

Michael revealed the teddy bear to you, holding it out for you to take. You immediately snatched it from him and hugged it close to your chest

“Oh, Michael!” You cried

You threw your arms around the killer, snuggling into his own chest with the bear sandwiched between you two. As much as Michael enjoyed the knife you gave him, it was safe to say that your reaction to your own gift was far better

Jason Voorhees💖

Today was Jason’s birthday! He popped into your cabin unannounced, nearly scaring the bejesus out of you when you entered the living room to find him standing there

“Happy birthday, Jason!” You exclaimed. Jason stood like a statue in the middle of the room. “Ooh, stay there! I got you something.” You said before ducking into the kitchen for a spell

You didn’t need to worry about Jason moving. As you returned to the room holding a cake box and gift, he hadn’t moved an inch. He finally broke that though when his head tilted to the side at the sight of the goodies in your hands

You set the present on the couch, and instead opened the cake box. You revealed a round cake to him that read, HAPPY BIRTHDAY JASON in green frosting

“It’s just for you! I hope you like it.” You crooned

Jason didn’t know how to react as you closed the box and set it on the couch too. But then you snatched the present up and giddily handed it to him

“Open it! Open it! Open it!” You squealed while jumping excitedly on the spot

Jason hesitated before tearing the wrapping paper away from the long object. His dead heart dropped at the sight of a silver machete that was beautifully engraved with roses and cursive patterns

“Do ya like it?” You asked

Jason whipped his head up from the machete to gaze upon you. He couldn’t believe you did this for him. It was so beautiful

“Happy birthday, Jason.” You said again softly

It was awkward, but Jason shuffled over to you. The machete dropped to the floor as he carefully wrapped his strong arms around your frame. He wasn’t used to hugging you like this, but didn’t know how else to thank you. It wasn’t like he could talk or anything

“This is nice.” You murmured contently against him

Jason didn’t respond, nor did he budge to break away from you. After a few lovingly long seconds, you slipped yourself away with a gentle grin on your face

“So,” you started. “How about some of your cake?”

[canisalbus]

How well could Machete take care of a sick Vasco?

He wouldn't be completely useless at it, I think. Medicine was one of the subjects he minored in so he has at least surface level theoretical knowledge on diseases and potential treatments. But he also employs a very competent personal doctor and if Vasco suddenly fell ill while visiting him, he'd likely trust Vasco in his hands rather than trying to diagnose and treat him on his own. Machete relies on doctors but Vasco isn't a fan, he wouldn't like being examined.

Vasco doesn't get sick very often so I'd imagine it would be a nerve-racking experience, Machete already fusses about his health and wellbeing when he's in peak condition. Vasco also has something of a habit of masking and downplaying it when he's actually hurt, so if he's looking and behaving visibly out of sorts it's something to worry about.

Machete would probably act a lot like those dogs that get concerned when their owners are feeling unwell, staying beside him (but mostly keeping a respectful distance in fear of coming across annoying and overbearing) as much as possible and feeling too consumed by anxiety to get anything else done. I can imagine him attempting to mirror the way Vasco himself acts when he's trying to comfort and cheer people up.

[orcelito]

i think it's just in my nature to get stabbed

if i count this, then this would be the 3rd stabbing i have endured

[howtofightwrite]

I’m gonna be honest, I’m not very good at numbers and visualizing how much power is needed to do something, so I felt it would be good to ask you.

How much force/how strong would a character need to be in order to cut off a hand as quickly as possible? For context, my character in a scene is being infected with a sort of symbiote, and quickly tries to hack it off before infection reaches the brain. It’s also not in an apocalyptic environment, they have access to medical equipment. (that bill is gonna make their pockets cry tho)

This is one of those times when it's about having the right tool, not about the effort. A fire axe should take off their hand pretty efficiently with one quick blow. Now, I'm not sure how well they could do this on their own, or if they'd really need an ally to lop off their hand. I'm pretty sure you could get it done with a machete, though probably not as easily. I'd also wonder about an old-school paper cutter. There's a lot of industrial equipment that will happily lop off an unwanted limb, though, keeping it intact after removal is a different topic entirely.

Surgically reattaching the hand could be a bit of work. Assuming no magical medical technology, replacing the hand isn't a simple process. The original hand needs to be in good condition (and I'm assuming, symbiote free.) You can't fully repair the nerve connections in the severed appendage, so, while there's going to be some use of the hand, it's never going to be back at 100% (again, assuming there's no magical way to regenerate the nerve endings), age is a factor here, children have a better chance of regaining more functionality, but for an adult, it's going to be imperfect at best.

I've never interacted with someone who's undergone replantation, but, from experiences in the past with friends who had suffered nerve damage in their limbs, I'd expect numbness in some parts of the hand (or the entire hand, potentially), and limited manual dexterity. (It's possible some fingers or joints simply wouldn't work anymore.)

Additional surgical procedures may be needed, particularly for nerve grafting and adjusting tendons. In some cases the reattached limb needs to be removed and replaced with a prosthetic due to chronic pain.

Replantation technology will probably improve over into the future. But, at least presently, your character would still have a permanent injury, that impaired the use of that hand from that point forward. It's not a situation where you can glue your hand back on.

-Starke

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[hollybell51]

here me out. Adam Warlock and sex pollen.

It's ok - one

Navigation

Part two

Adam Warlock x AFAB!Reader

Marvel Cinematic Universe, Guardians of the Galaxy vol. 3 (outside canon)

Word count: 4.6K

Summary: foreign flora has an unexpected effect on your human physiology.

Content: sex pollen and associated DUBCON, fuck-or-die, smut, maybe very slight perviness (but I don't think it's creepy or really triggering), Adam being down bad, SMUT. Gratuitous smut. Non-explicit masturbation, handjobs (kinda), penetrative sex, unprotected sex, Adam's a virgin, reader isn't, bit on angst, unresolved, there will be part 2. Maybe some out of character-ness, but it's hard cause he only had like 10 minutes screen time so what I've written is based on my own interpretation and what I've read since I watched the movie

Notes: I hear you anon! I actually haven't done sex pollen before, though I always found it kinda fun, so this was new to me. I actually wrote a part 2 which I'll post with this, and that's much of the same xx. Also sorry I haven't done anything in ages, I've been super under the weather and busy so I haven't really had time lmao. Anyways, have fun with this!

“Hey, did you get through those notes?” Your voice echoed in the stillness of the forest, seeming to bounce off the lush petals of the giant flowers towering overhead. The local flora was all supersized, bigger than anything Adam had ever seen, and filtered the harsh light of the planet’s nearest star in sickly sweet hues of pinks, greens, yellows and even blue. 

“Breathable atmosphere, mostly docile wildlife. Predators are nocturnal.”

“Ok, just… How much longer are we gonna be out here?” 

Adam turned, letting the machete you’d armed him with – “bush bashing. Gotta learn those life skills, huh?” – hang by his side. You were panting, face flushed and beaded with sweat as you planted your hands on your hips and frowned at him. Even like this, speckled with bright yellow and orange pollen and clearly uncomfortable, Adam couldn’t ignore the odd swooping sensation in his gut. It was like someone was constantly pulling a rug from under his feet. 

He checked the time displayed on the tablet. “Two hours. Maybe less. Are you ok?” 

You groaned, but nodded and walked the few paces to stand beside him. “Goddamn flower dumped its load all over me. You sure this shit is breathable?” 

The atmosphere. Right, you were joking about the humidity. “If you don’t mind a bit of a steam,” he tried, smiling at the short bark of laughter the remark conjured. 

You tapped his machete-holding hand, jerking your head towards the wall of fleshy greenery. “Nice. Let’s just get this over with.” 

Adam simply nodded. The falling feeling had been replaced by something warm and sticky, the simple touch and your laugh flowing like syrup to sit low inside him. It had been like this for a while now, since he’d started really talking to you, spending time with you, noticing things about you. Like your hair, now dusted with fiery plant spores and stuck to your forehead, and how it caught the lights of Knowhere just right when you sat down beside him to eat. Or the little wrinkles around your eyes and mouth when you smiled – really smiled. The High Evolutionary had disliked wrinkles and other physical signs of ageing, viewed them as imperfect and a blight on existence. Adam could have stared at yours all day. 

“Can I see that?” 

Again, Adam stopped and turned. You were craning at the tablet, your hand absently running around the collar of your suit. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Just… It’s really hot. Do you feel that?” 

Adam shrugged. Temperature wasn’t a huge concern to him, but you looked truly uncomfortable now. “Humidity can often make it feel hotter than it is.” 

“I know, but…” You grimaced, pulling your collar down further and wriggling your shoulders. “I feel really hot. Worse than before.” 

Adam frowned. He knew humans were often sensitive to their environment, much more so than was practical, but you seemed more affected than you should be. There were places on Earth hotter than the current reading, you’d told him that, so why were you–?

The comm on his wrist buzzed, Rocket’s voice crackling across the emergency frequency. “Warlock? You copy?” 

“Yeah,” Adam replied, still watching you. You were taking a semi-restrained drink from your flask, no doubt aware that it had to last the whole trek and back. 

“Is (Y/N) with you?” 

“Yeah, why?” As he watched, you held the back of your hand up to your forehead, then your cheek, then your neck. The suit still seemed to be bothering you. 

“Are you on the ground?” 

“Yes.” 

“You need to get out of there.” 

Adam didn’t think he was imagining the urgency in the raccoon’s voice, distorted as it was over the distance. He was in an entirely different corner of the galaxy, after all. “Why? What’s wrong?” 

A pause, then, “The flowers, they’re… uh, they’re kinda…” 

“They are very powerful aphrodisiacs!” Ah, Kraglin, just as worried-sounding as Rocket. “They can be harmful to humans!” 

Your other hand had joined the first on your face, but it didn’t seem to be doing a lot. You’d managed to get the zipper on your suit down, the neck pulled down to expose your shoulders and collar bones, the skin there just as flushed as your face. 

“What?” 

Rocket groaned, but Kraglin either didn’t notice or didn’t care. “Aphrodisiacs,” he repeated. “If she breathes the pollen her body temperature will rise until she develops a fever, and if she doesn’t have sex she could die.” 

His entire (relatively short) life, Adam’s mother – and pretty much everyone else – had been more than generous in pointing out that he was lacking, that he was slower than he should be, that he was not up to the same speed as they were. It was because he’d left the cocoon early, he knew that, but he’d never really felt that much slower. Maybe a little, but he’d always understood where he’d gone wrong and why. This was totally different. For the first time, Adam felt like he was lagging behind. 

“What?” he asked again. “What do you mean if she doesn’t have sex she’ll die?” 

“Makes ya horny, genius. Means what exactly that. Fuck or die.” Rocket took over, clearing his throat. “I’m reading off the notes, bit further down. It’s small, so you might have missed it. It says it works normal for most species, but humans are more fragile so…” 

Yes, that made sense. Adam couldn’t remember that in what he’d read, but he’d also been distracted by your legs slung across his and the little wrinkle that had appeared between your brows as you’d carefully packed your bag, sliding everything perfectly into place. He’d wanted to just reach across and run his thumb over the line, smooth it away forever. 

Now, that same bag thudded as it hit the ground and you frantically fanned yourself, eyes closed. There was no telling if you’d heard the conversation, but Adam didn’t want to waste time finding out. 

“Ok, I’ll, uh, get her back to the ship.” 

“She ok?” 

He paused for a moment, then settled on, “yeah, she’ll be fine.” 

“You got this, golden boy.” The radio crackled and fell silent, and that was that. What a great help. 

“(Y/N)?” he ventured, picking up your pack. “Did you get all that?” 

You nodded, wriggling to get the zipper further undone. Your back was beaded with sweat, and in any other circumstance, maybe Adam would have let himself dwell more on the soft contours of your spine, the roll of your shoulder blades, the harsh line of your bra strap in contrast to your smooth skin. 

“I’m really… It’s so hot, holy shit. Why’s it gotta be so hot?” 

“I think that’s the fever bit. Come on, we should get back.” 

You drew a sharp breath when his hand met your back, your whole body tensing. 

Adam withdrew at light speed. “Sorry, I didn’t–” 

“No,” you cut him off, “no, it’s fine. I’m fine.” 

“Ok.” 

It couldn’t have been more than half an hour since you’d set out, but it felt like a long time to get back. You were slower, for one, stumbling and muttering apologies whenever you became disorientated – which was often – and wriggling like your clothes were full of insects. Your breath came heavy, your skin becoming more and more flushed as you drew closer to the ship, and you looked so uncomfortable it made something twist inside Adam. 

“I heard it,” you panted, stepping clumsily over a root. “What Kraglin said.” 

“Oh,” was all Adam could think of. 

“You don’t— You shouldn’t— You don’t have to do anything you don’t want to.” 

“Hey, no, it’s ok. You’ll be ok.” 

“I’m– fuck, Adam.” 

“You’ll be ok, (Y/N). We can sort this out.” 

“I don’t wanna force you to do anything–” 

How cruel could the Universe be? Adam wondered as he patted your shoulder – then regretted it when you stumbled. You were the first person he’d really wanted anything with, the first person he’d thought about and imagined and, dare he say it, fantasised about, and now you were worried you were going to somehow hurt him or make him do something he didn’t want to. It was sweet, bitterly so, and ironic enough to feel like a punch in the stomach. If anyone should be worried, it should be him. After all, how were you ever going to look at him the same way after this? How was he going to look at himself the same way?

“I’m so…” You broke off as you emerged into the clearing where the ship was parked, a sob – relief or something else, Adam couldn’t tell – torn from you. 

Your legs were shaking now, your skin so hot Adam could feel it through the material of your suit. He helped you quickly aboard, avoiding your eyes as you peeled the suit from your shoulders and pushed yourself against the cool wall. The pollen still lay over your hair and clothes, insultingly cheerful and innocent. 

He sighed. “We should get rid of that.” 

“Huh?” 

“The suit. It’s got pollen all over it.” 

“Oh, right.” You said it like it was the most obvious thing in the world, peeling the material from your body without a second thought. Well. Adam hadn’t expected that. Trying not to watch as you sunk down to the floor, he shoved the offending clothing into the disposal to be dealt with later. 

“You should probably take a shower. There’s pollen in your hair and… on you.” 

You nodded, legs pressed firmly together, arms spread over the cool surface at your back. “Yeah, sure, I… Can you… Fuck, Adam, I’m sorry I—” 

“It’s ok, (Y/N), don’t worry.” It felt like a ridiculous thing to say, but seemed to help a little. “What do you need me to do?” 

“I need…” You trailed off in a low whimper, your legs shaking now. You didn’t even seem to notice you were in nothing but your underwear. “I…” 

Again, that twisting feeling. “Do you want me to come with you?” 

“Yes.” The word fell from your lips with a relieved sigh, your head tipping back. 

So Adam went with you, helping you into the tiny decontamination spray shower, trying to avoid touching you as much as possible – not for lack of trying on your part. You seemed to gravitate towards him, pressing your body into his hands wherever they lay, leaning hard against him. Your breath was still laboured, your face still pink, but it seemed less painful now that you had direction and were free of the suit. You’d stopped wriggling, anyway. 

You sighed as you sank down to the floor, your fingers vice-like around Adam’s. His free hand found the taps easily, turning on a cool jet and directing it to the pollen in your hair. It flowed down your neck and shoulders, an orange river spiralling into the drain. 

“I’m sorry,” you said for what must have been the millionth time, your own free hand pressed between your legs, tension radiating from every line of your body. “I’m so sorry, Adam.” 

“Hey, no, don’t be. It’s going to be ok.” He crouched, ignoring the water as he reached across to lay a hand on your forehead. You practically whined at the contact, your fingers tangling even harder with his, skin hot despite the cold water. 

“(Y/N)?” he said softly. 

“Hm? 

“Rocket, uh… Rocket said the pollen’s an aphrodisiac.” 

“Yeah, I – fuck – I know. Trust me.” 

“He said it works, um, strongly on humans.” Adam paused, heart pounding. Why did it have to be you, of all people? And why him? “If you don’t,” he continued, “you know… The fever might get high enough to kill you.”

“Oh fuck, come on!” Water sprayed where your foot slapped the shower floor, your voice echoing. 

Adam had never felt worse about anything. “I’m sorry, I should have checked the notes first, I didn’t even consider–” 

You didn’t seem to care. “So now I’m gonna overheat and die?” 

“Unless you have sex. With someone.”

Your head thudded on the wall, a sob flopping wetly from your throat. “Fuck this. Does it have to be with someone? Will it work if I just… do it myself?” 

“Uh, actually, I don’t know. Maybe.” He paused, unsure, then, “Do you want to try?” 

“Yeah, yeah I—” You took a shuddering breath, blinking through the water dripping over your face. “Yeah.” 

Adam nodded, standing. “I’ll… I’ll be around. If you need anything.” 

“Thanks.” It was barely a whisper, so wretched it made his heart hurt. You released his hand, and he turned quickly to leave you alone, your relieved moan following him out the door. Adam didn’t like this, not at all. You weren’t quiet, though he supposed that wasn’t your fault, and he hated, really hated the heat your moans and gasped curses sparked in him. It was wrong, so wrong, and he should not be here. But he couldn’t leave you. 

“Fuck, fuck oh my God–” you cried eventually, a wet thud echoing through the wall. “Oh my– fuck fucking fuck!” 

Adam listened carefully, unsure whether or not he should…

“Adam?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I don’t…” You broke off in a sob, genuine fear lacing your voice. “Fuck.” 

“(Y/N)?” He stepped back into the shower, pausing only for a moment to take in the mess that was you. Your hand was still between your legs, thighs spread wide, panties crumpled in a wet bundle in the corner and your bra pulled halfway down your torso. In any other situation, it would have been the hottest thing Adam had ever seen. 

“I can’t… It didn’t work, I’m still so hot, why am I so goddamn hot?” 

Adam cursed as he crouched beside you, taking your free hand only a little gingerly. He cursed fate and circumstance, himself for not reading the notes properly, Rocket and Kraglin for not miraculously having a cure, and you for still looking so fucking beautiful while you were quite literally dying. He swore that if – when – he and you got out of this, he was going to burn that whole jungle. 

“We’ll fix this,” he assured you, gently rubbing his thumb over the back of your hand. 

You sighed at the contact, shifting closer. 

He frowned. “Is that…?” 

“Feels better when you touch me,” you murmured. 

That was going to haunt his dreams, he just knew it. This whole ordeal was going to haunt him, and probably not in the way it should have. He already knew he’d be seeing your shoulders silky with the water, your back slicked with sweat and the smooth curve of your thigh for months, let alone everything else. Wrong wrong wrong wrong, he reminded himself. 

“Do you…” He stopped. It was absurd. It was wrong. It was not something he’d ever live down. 

Your eyes were open, overly bright and dark with want, searching his face like he held all the answers. You were still so flushed, hair plastered to your forehead and dark with the water, lips parted and so, so pink. 

“Do you want to have sex with me?” 

“Yes.” The syllable was torn from you, ragged and desperate, followed quickly by another sob. You shook your head. “I don’t want to pressure you, don’t wanna make you do something you don’t want to.” 

He could have laughed. How were you still so focussed on that of all things? It brought that syrupy feeling back, only now it was darker, hotter, and tinged with guilt. 

“It’s ok,” he said softly. “(Y/N), it’s ok. Don’t worry.” He carefully moved his hand to your face, pushing the wet hair off your forehead. 

You leaned into it as you had before, your eyes closed. “Then yeah, I… Fuck, Adam, I want you so bad. You have no idea how much I want you.” 

It wasn’t you. Not really. He did his best to ignore the spread of the tingling warmth, his own want, as he helped you to your feet and did his best to dry you – again, as gently as he could. You just let him, casting your bra away when he paused at it, still struggling to stand and trying your best to get as close to him as you could.

Vaguely, Adam wondered how the hell this would actually work. He hadn’t had a lot of experience with much of anything before he met you and the other Guardians, let alone sex, and he had no idea if you had either. He somehow doubted you were in the same position as he was – you were gorgeous, after all, and so friendly it was a wonder he hadn’t ended up head over heels for you sooner. 

He really wished this wasn’t happening. He wished you really did want him, that he’d worked up the guts to ask Quill about Gamora and how that had gone before he’d taken off, then told you about his feelings properly. If he’d gotten that far, he was sure you’d have shown him how it went with the same patience and care you’d shown him everything, and he’d have liked to have taken his time. He’d have liked to kiss you, touch your pretty hands and hold you close, feel you all over and let you take the lead, tell you about the things he thought about you and everything you did to him. 

But it was happening, and you were probably not going to want to talk to him after it had run its course. At least you’d be alive.

You’d stumbled to a bed – one of the standard fold-out ones – beside him, and now he sat you down on its edge. You hadn’t released your hold, pulling him down with you, hands flying straight to the fastening of his own damn suit. 

“Is this ok?” you breathed, practically vibrating with anticipation. Your hands were flitting everywhere; his hair, his neck, along his jaw, his face, his own hands. You were very clearly trying very hard to make yourself slow down, wait, and Adam’s heart melted. 

“Yeah,” he said, “it’s all ok. You do what you need to.” 

A sigh of relief, a soft “thank you,” and then you were clambering into his lap and peeling his clothes off like it was nothing, your lips hot and hard against his. Adam hadn’t kissed anyone before, but he’d seen enough movies – most of them with you – to know that this wasn’t how it usually went. There was little technique or rhythm, more your tongue licking into his mouth, teeth occasionally knocking against his, so forceful he wondered if it was hurting you. 

You’d completely stripped him remarkably fast, and now your hands explored his shoulders and arms, trailing goosebumps down his chest and stomach. You fit perfectly over him, and he allowed himself to run his own hands up your back, down again, over your hips, finally settling in the curve of your waist. How often had he wondered what it would be like to hold you there? 

You moaned, the heat at your centre slick and wet against his own rapidly hardening dick. And now you were moving, too, grinding against him like your life depended on it and why had nobody told Adam it could feel like this? 

You’d broken the kiss, your lips swollen and even redder than they’d been before, your hands now in his hair, fingers tugging ever so gently. Adam had to stifle his own little sound of pleasure, bending his head to kiss at your neck and those collar bones he could look at forever. You gasped a “yes” when his tongue darted out to taste the skin, the faint tang of sweat mingling with the sweetness of the water that had dripped there from your still-damp hair. 

Your fingers tightened in his own hair, the delicious pull sending more heat straight down. You directed his head in that direction, too, arching your back until his mouth found the soft mound of your breast and he licked, then on a whim, sucked. 

“Oh, yes, Adam–” you panted, your movements becoming even more frantic. 

“Hm?” 

“Oh, that’s– that’s so good.” 

Did you know what you were doing to him? Adam supposed you didn’t, sucking again at a different spot, licking it, placing a kiss there, moving on. Rinse and repeat. 

Then your hands disappeared from his hair – that was a shame, but this wasn’t about him – and the next moment your fingers were wrapped around his cock and you were stroking it better than he ever had, your palm a million times softer than his, sliding easily with your own slick. 

“Can I?” you were asking. “Please, Adam, can I?” 

You could do whatever you wanted, Adam didn’t care. If he’d thought about it, he’d have realised that he actually liked the idea of you having your way with him, using him for your own pleasure, taking what you needed from him. But he didn’t think about it, he was too caught up in the smell and taste of your skin, the little sounds you were making, the wonderful movement of your hand. 

“Yes,” he breathed, “yes, go ahead, (Y/N). Please, just– just go ahead.” 

You were moving, rising on those wonderful thighs and your hand was moving too, something hot and slick rubbing over the head of his dick and then holy shit Adam’s mind went blank. If he’d thought you felt hot before, it was nothing compared to this. He groaned in unison with you as you sank down, taking him fully and gripping his shoulders, your breath fanning his face. You fit perfectly around him, squeezing spongy and smooth, and nothing could have prepared him for it. 

You braced yourself on his shoulders, rising off him – for a second he wondered if that was it, if you were pulling away – before you sank back down. You did it again, then again, and again and again until the only sounds in the room were your breaths mingling with his, your unrestrained little moans and his own half-stifled ones, the slap of your skin on his. 

Adam held you close, hands still anchored to your waist, transfixed by the silken heat of you and the brush of your chest against his, the bounce of your breasts and solidity of your body on top of his. 

“Feels so fucking good,” you panted. “No idea, so fucking – shit – good–”

“(Y/N),” he choked, unable to form a single coherent thought. 

“You’re so good, Adam oh my God.” 

Something was building in his stomach, he could feel it. The warm syrupiness was gone, something hotter and harder and so tight coiling in its place, growing with each moan and sigh and whispered curse from you. It was so much, almost too much, and half of his brain wanted you to stop right there. But the other half, the half that created those late-night daydreams, real dreams, half-formed ideas and scenes in his mind… That half wanted you to go harder, slam your hips down faster and say it again, tell him he felt good, he was doing well. 

“Making me feel so fucking good,” you murmured, as if you’d read his mind. “You’re so… ah, fuck, Adam, I’m so close–” 

Close to what? he wondered vaguely, but the praise was spinning that coil faster, faster, tighter and faster until– 

“Adam, oh, Adam—!” 

It snapped, electric and white hot and rolling up his spine like a damn shockwave. He could hear you crying his name, your movements slowing and your body spasming around his. He’d cum before, of course he had, but never like this. That had been small and so quick he hadn’t even realised what was happening until he was spilling into his hand or the bedsheets, confined to his dick, never spreading through his whole body and never with that glorious buildup. This was something else entirely. 

After what felt like an age, Adam’s mind returned to his body. You were shaking, collapsed against his chest, your arms wrapped around his shoulders and his around your waist, your face pressed into his hair, his own nestled in the junction of your neck and shoulder. You fit so perfectly against him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked, his voice husky even to his own ears. 

You didn’t lift your head, but he felt you nod. 

“Are you sure? You’re shaking.” 

“Yeah,” you sighed. “I’m fine. I feel better, actually. How about you?” 

Adam just nodded, unwilling to move. He could feel himself softening inside you, but didn’t want to lose the warmth and the feeling that he was yours, that he was fully with you. But… “Do you want me to stay?” 

No response, then a deep sigh. “Yes,” you whispered. 

Adam ignored the butterflies and the spark of hope that conjured, opting instead for practicality. He could feel the rapidly cooling sweat on his own back, the coldness of your damp hair, the mess of spend around the place where your body swallowed his. 

“I’m going to clean you up,” he said softly, “then I’ll come back. Alright?” 

“Ok.” 

Slowly, reluctantly, he lifted you off himself and set you down further back on the bed. You whined at the loss of contact, curling in on yourself and shivering. But you weren’t so hot anymore, the flush had been replaced by what he could only describe as a glow and the overly bright look had vanished from your eyes. You really did look better. 

After a moment’s hesitation, Adam rose and turned away, making for the cabinet where the medpacks and other supplies were kept. You wanted him to stay. You’d told him he felt good. You’d held him afterwards, let him hold you, and had made no move to make him leave. If anything, you’d looked disappointed when he’d broken the contact. But still, you weren’t yourself. 

He paused, a horrible thought crossing his mind. Was he going to end up like Quill? Hopelessly chasing a woman who didn’t feel the same way about him? He hoped not, he’d seen how miserable the man was. But you weren’t hard the way Gamora was -- as much as Adam knew her, anyway, which wasn't much. You were soft and open, and you did care about him, he was sure of it. At least you had. 

Shaking his head, Adam returned to the room with a damp cloth in hand. 

“(Y/N)?” he asked softly, pausing at the door. No answer. 

You were where he’d left you, he saw as he stepped around it, still curled up on your side. Your eyes were closed, the rise and fall of your ribs deep and even. Asleep. The surge of tenderness surprised him, strong enough that he was sure he’d been swamped by an actual wave. You really were beautiful, even damp and naked, lips swollen and hair mussed. 

He was careful not to wake you as he brushed the hair off your face, wiped away the worst of the mess, and then pulled a blanket over you. He wondered briefly if he should stay with you, slide down beside you and wrap his arms around your waist, warm you with his body heat and be there to tell you it was all alright when you woke up. 

You shifted, heaving a deep breath and adjusting your position minutely, and that decided it. Adam couldn’t disturb you, as much as he wanted to, and there was still your suit and discarded underwear, not to mention the original task. On an impulse, he bent and placed a soft kiss on your forehead before turning, scooping his own clothes off the floor and making for the shower. 

[botslayer]

Horror Theory: Just Men Behind The Masks

So I just rewatched Behind The Mask: The Rise Of Leslie Vernon. A 2006 deconstructionist horror film. And I have a thought for the rest of the horror community to chew on:

A lot of people mention idly that this is a "Shared universe" film. That this is a universe where Chucky, Michael, Freddy, and Jason (All of whom are name dropped) exist. Which heavily implies the rest do, to. I have a different idea.

This is a universe where those STORIES exist. Fred Kruger may have been a real person. Jason Voorhees drowned at camp that fateful summer. Charles Lee Ray was gunned down in a toy store. Maybe even Michael Myers went to the asylum and got out.

Here's the kicker tho: If you pay attention, at least, it's implied that the characters as we know them are fake. The only one I'd be willing to say exists properly from the first movie is Michael.

Spoilers ahead but the guy up top is the titular Leslie Vernon... Except no. He isn't.

The Dr. Loomis to Leslie's Michael (The in universe term is "Ahab.") is Doc Halloran. Halloran reveals and Leslie later admits he is not Leslie Vernon. His real name is Leslie Mancuso.

(Incidentally, yes. That is Robert Englund as Halloran. A+ casting.)

At the end of the movie, after carving a bloody swathe through a bunch of people, Leslie is "killed" by the survivor girl, Taylor. When asked if Leslie is dead, she says "I don't know what he is." Halloran reflects on the idea that Leslie was "Just a man."

We spent the entire movie up to this point getting into Leslie's head, learning how he does things. Seeing all the preparation not only he, but the other slashers put into the things the do. Why is Jason's Machete indestructible but all the other tools around break with one swing? Sabotage. Why are windows usually stuck? Nails. Why do tree limbs break right away and cars not start? Also sabotage. Stuff like that.

We also find out that Leslie Vernon was very likely a real person but has been dead for twenty years. At the very least Leslie Vernon is a popular folk tale around the town, Mr. Mancuso is just piggybacking off it to do some murder in the interest of making his survivor girl stronger and doing good for the world through evil.

(Pictured: Leslie Mancuso as Leslie Vernon during his killing spree)

The story of Mr. Vernon, the dead man, is that supposedly a bastard kid was born to a married couple (possibly through rape.) They worked him like a slave, forcing him to till fields with nothing but a hand scythe until he murdered both of them. The town found out and a mob of people drowned the boy after the murders and his body was never found as the water was too cold, so he never came back up. Turtles picked his bones clean.

Twenty years later, Mancuso took on the name and started plotting to murder people at that farm house. The rest of the movie is the set up and execution of that murder plan.

So what does that say about people like Michael, Jason, Freddy, and especially Chucky?

We'll start with the man who started it all. One tragic night in 1963, a young Michael Myers murdered his older sister with a kitchen knife. No one knew why. No one understood his motive. But the fact remains he did it. A little before Halloween night 1978, Michael escaped the mental institution he was in and went on a killing spree for reasons not everyone will know but was injured and eventually stopped by Dr. Loomis and a local baby sitter, Lori Strode.

I see this as being the thing that inspires that most horrible of things in-universe: Copycat Killers.

They mention directly that Michael has done his attacks on Haddonfield at least 4 separate times. I don't know much about Halloween as a series so I don't know what movies that number specifically is referencing but I'm willing to suggest the first two movies are billed together as one attack because it was basically one protracted occurrence. At the end of which he was blinded and then set on fire, burning to death.

Later movies retcon that death but logically, the real Michael is dead in this universe. Later instances where HE supposedly attacks are the works of more calculating, crazy people like Mancuso. His whole deal is "We set things up like this, we figure out how to do that and yadda yadda."

You could easily apply most of what he says and does to people who can act out just like he does. Bullet proof vests, gel applied in spots to stop bleeding. Breaking into people's houses and cutting the power and telephones, etc. I think the other supposed three attacks in the BTM universe are people who took on Mikey's coveralls and a replica mask, were in some way stopped or got away, and then were either replaced by new fakers or maybe continued being Mike a time or two before being stopped. This could also theoretically riff on the idea of Michael using body doubles to fake his death in some of the movies.

Alternatively, The real Mike could still be at the Smith's Grove Sanitarium in this universe. He never got out but his legend made a perfect starting point for people to latch on to and start "being him." Or he may be a local legend with no real basis in reality.

The problem is we don't have any further context for the four attacks that happened. So... Yeah, this is nine tenths me BSing.

How about Jason? The Crystal Lake killer and my personal favorite?

I think the most likely case of what happened with Jason in the universe of BTM is that Jason Voorhees did actually exist. He did drown that one summer. Some years later his mother would go on to slaughter a bunch of camp counselors before the camp could reopen. Note the thing about how slashers need a story like that which would naturally draw somebody.

So I think it's worth considering that the "dozens" of people "Jason' supposedly has killed over the years we're actually the works of either one faker or multiple fakers who've taken up residence at camp Crystal Lake over the years. This is because while we don't have any real evidence that Jason is 100% real we do have evidence that sometimes people will take up these mantles just to take them up if it's the convenient one to work with and use for your own ends.

If you go to Jersey and you want to start offing people, why not try and find a way to pin it on the Jersey devil?

So you have this local legend of a kid who drowned in a lake and his mom goes on a murderous rampage. So what are you, an up and coming slasher going to do? Well you start acting how you think Jason would act. You put on this facade and start doing damage to people. Given a lot of the stuff Mancuso does that actually makes him look undead, a talented enough makeup artist could actually theoretically make themselves look like a super deformed crazy guy like Jason or even like Freddy... Speaking of.

I think the most likely course of Freddy's history here is that he did still kill around 20 kids at some point in the past. And then the people got together and they burned him to death in the boiler room.

However I think maybe there's a chance he survived and went on to not so much invade people's dreams as he did perhaps start drugging people and then torturing them. Alternatively his "Slasher" copycat started doing that.

We know that in the actual nightmare on elm Street movies Freddy likes to get in your dreams, play with your fears and even use some of your greatest strengths against you, because he just can. Now imagine someone with the face of a burn victim breaking into your house at night, drugging you or gassing you up in a way that makes the whole world feel very dream-like, and unreal, and then butchering you.

I think it would especially be very easy to reframe a lot of the ways in which these people turn up dead as Freddy simply doing things that he knows because it's established in the BTM universe that a lot of these killers will stalk their victims from months at a time.

That one scene in dream Warriors where he turns his hand into drug needles and injects a girl with them? Well that could be suggestive of the idea that instead what Freddie actually did was drug her and then make her OD in her sleep.

A lot of the kills all of these guys do could be someone embellished like that one time that girl was force fed things until she choked to death in her dream, in real life her windpipe just kind of collapsed if memory serves. As if something had been weighing down on it.

Then again, maybe most of the kills from all the movies we know didn't really happen. Michael being strong enough to pin a guy to a wall using a kitchen knife is otherworldly in its own way. Like. Maybe that didn't happen that way. It's just the rumor mill circling around.

Now. The last one. My personal least favorite. Chucky. AKA Charles Lee Ray, the Lakeshore Strangler.

Charles Lee Ray killed a good handful of people as a normal adult but in a crime gone wrong, he got gunned down in a toy store somewhere in Chicago. In the universe of the Child's Play movies, he uses a voodoo spell to put his soul in a "Good Guy" doll. He then uses a normal little boy, Andy, to go kill his partner in crime, Eddie and then spends the rest of the series hunting for Andy so he can be human again by putting his soul inside of Andy. Or just trying to kill him in three and I think Curse's after-credits.

In universe, I think what really might have happened was Charles swore bloody vengeance on Eddie and the cop who killed him, expecting to escape. He was then killed in the store either trying to get the drop on the cop or just get out. The hideout Charles and Eddie, who escaped custody, used to use, exploded in a random gas leak incident.

But urban legends have circulated over and over. That it was Charles' ghost possessing a Good Guy Doll. That a little kid was seen on the train carrying one such doll heading toward Cabrini-Green. Etc.

Now, I'm not 100% sure how later appearances by "Chucky" would go. Like. How do you fake a killer doll? Tiny Animatronics? A REALLY short guy? Leaving them as calling cards? I dunno. But it is just another guy piggybacking.

The only cue that anything vaguely supernatural is happening in this world is at the end, Leslie is alive after having his head crushed and being burned, but, to his credit, he was established to be a pretty tough bastard up to that point and the press was only turned enough to lock him in place and hear one squelch. It probably did damage but it also probably didn't do enough to put him on ice. So it's fairly ambiguous and still probably means killer dolls aren't a factor.

In summary: Behind The Mask is not a universe where all of our favorite killers exist. It's a universe where their legends exist and people who want to do evil become those legends. For a time at least.

Happy Halloween, everyone.

[bump1nthen1ght]

A Very Monstrous Kinktober (2024) Day 16 - Hunter/Prey

Kinks: Hunter/Prey Dynamics

Pairing: GN!Reader x F!Alien

Other Kinks: Fem Dom, Cunnilingus, Face Riding

Warnings: Dehumanization, Non-Con

Word Count: 1506 words

Kinktober Masterlist

You don’t know how people do this.

Just running for five minutes in this thick, wet air has you gasping for breath, your limbs going shaky. The humidity makes it hard to breathe, you're somehow wet and dry, sticky with sweat yet gasping for water. Your heart feels like it's beating out of your chest, anxiety and the knowledge that you can’t stop only making it ache and hurt.

“Run, little rabbit!” The cocky voice of the hunter calls out, the echo making it sounds like she’s everywhere. Hiding in the trees, crawling in the grass, blending with the shadows.

Wherever she is, she is far too close.

So you keep running, despite the dizziness in your gate or the spots in your eyes. The adrenaline spikes your system, forcing you to forget all those tiny details. Like how your lungs heave so much you think they might burst, or how your ankles burn with each unsteady step across the jungle floor.

It’s one such unsteady step that’s your downfall; a knitted root catching at just the right angle and sending you flying, a shooting pain down across the bone.

You force down a scream, biting your lip hard enough to bleed. Several alien birds fly out of the canopy as you crash, an unfortunate beacon for your poor self.

You try to ignore the pain, adrenaline suppressing the receptors as you crawl across the ground. Your clothes are filthy, if not from sweat then from the mud and debris that collects across your font. It may be to your advantage, some sort of camouflage. But your mind is deprived of such clever tricks, the base sense to run is still too powerful. You crawl into a hole in the tangled roots of a tree, hoping it’s big enough for you to hide in, dark enough so she can’t see you.

The minutes you spend waiting, just edging to see if she’s caught on almost kill you. Your fading adrenaline brings the very real pain back, tears bubbling at the corner of your eyes. The sound of branches breaking, vines slashed apart by a machete forcing your hand over your mouth, trying not to wrack with sobs.

It’s still not enough.

“Gotcha.”

Her four eyes gleam in your shadowing dark hiding space, not long before a hand wraps around your bad ankle and yanks you outward. You try your best to get away, dig your nails into the ground, but nothing has enough purchase. With her superior musculature the huntress can whip you around like a ragdoll.

“You made it farther than others. Only by 20-or-so feet, but still, impressive for you humans.”

The huntress is just as terrifying as you remember her, a brick shithouse of an alien woman, decked out in the finest gear. Her hair-like tentacles all writhe, no doubt tasting your scent on the air, more efficient than a bloodhound. She sneers into her smile, razor white teeth contrasted against the swirling galaxy that is her skin. In another situation you’d call her beautiful, her form like a trapped supernova. 

“Especially such a pretty one. I thought your kind kept your maters pampered, well rested?” She taps the side of your face like your an exotic pet, admiring her catch. “Whatever, you did good.” She stands up, leaving you unguarded, knowing there's no escape even if you tried to run. Her large hands could wrap around your neck and snap it in a second. She smiles again, licking her lips as she undoes the belt of her utility pants. “But I still caught you, so now’s time for my reward.”

You sob as she shucks down her pants, her hand grabbing you by the back of your skull and yanking you to sit on your knees. Yoru ankle still burns and now do your knees, pressed into the rough ground of the forest.

Black, sleek and militaristic underwear cover her cunt. She isn’t immune to the hot air of her home planet, the smell of her sweat and musk permeating the air. She forces you to snort it up, pressing your face directly into her crotch. Her head throws back as she grinds her lower half onto your nose, a bump not dissimilar to a human clit resting against your nose.

“Lick it, human.” She commands, doesn’t ask. Her grip tightens on your skull. “It’s what you’re good for.”

Another sob wracks your chest, but you do as she says. You kitten lick up her slit, wet and pressed taut against the fabric of her undies. She sighs, petting the side of your face.

“That’s a good pet.” She swivels her hip in a circle, forcing the flavor of her slick onto your tongue. It seeps through the fabric, potent and tangy. “Keep licking.”

You dart out your tongue, just the tip dipping in between her lips. Her taste is overwhelming, stuffed up your nose and down your throat. She seems to like the teasing motions at least, letting you get away with tiny licks at her center. But not for long.

“Harder, faster.”

Yoo afraid of what else she could do, so you follow. You force the flat of your tongue against her pussy, lick up the length of her. She grinds down even harder, your neck aching as he pushes you. She rides her button against the bride of your nose, biting into her lip.

“Stars.” She sighs, now grinding her cunt up and down your face, using your tongue like a pillow to hump into. “Pretty mouth to match a pretty face. I really got lucky, didn’t I?” She pats your head again. “Fine little human for myself. All it took was a quick jog through the forest, hah!”

Tears stream down the sides of your face, the humiliation and suffocation getting to you.

You take a gasping breath once she pulls you off, only for your heart to drop in your stomach as she pulls aside the fabric of her crotch. With her cunt now bare, she forces you back in, nose deep.

“Stick it inside.” The huntress growls. “I wanna feel it.”

Slick now runs down the sides of your jaw, mixing with your salty tears. You can do nothing else but what she commands. 

Her walls clench around your tongue, sucking it in like its prey meant to be engulfed whole. The huntress humps down, and not wanting to feel her fearsome grip on your skull again, you start moving it around. Pressing against her spongy walls gets a good reaction, another moan and more essence dripping down your face. She rubs the top of your head.

“Smart too. A real prize.” She cures under her breathe as you shake your nose, letting it brush across her clit as you tongue-fuck her. The movement is almost relaxing, melodic enough to almost distract you from what's going on. In a similar vein you start drawing out the alphabet with your tongue, something to focus on and make the huntress feel good, maybe make this whole situation go by faster.

The huntress spreads her legs, steadying herself as she starts riding your face for real, keeping you in place with a brutal grip yet expecting you to keep up your machinations. Her warm thighs encase each side of you, meaty and warm. It's another oppressive heat added to the list.

“Fuck.” She draws out her vowel, hips beginning to twitch. “I’m gonna cum already, Whew, that chase really worked me up.” She pats your head again. “Don’t worry though, there will be plenty more of this for you to enjoy, pet.”

You clench your eyes shut, trying to project yourself somewhere else, leave your body.

But its hard to ignore reality when it's literally sitting on your face, practically suffocating you with its presence. All you can do is press forward, make sure she cums hard and fast.

Its why you tilt your jaw and begin to tongue fuck her as hard as you can, as deep as you can go. Whenever she twitches you come harder on that part, finding the weak spotsYou burrow your nose and draw tight circles around her clit.

“You better not waste any, p-pet.” You can practically hear the smirk in her voice, ever so confident despite her twitching pussy. “I want you to lick it up.” She punctuates her words with a timed grind, thighs finally clenching shut and pussy clamping around your tongue.

 Her orgasm is just as powerful as her, wracking her whole body and almost knocking you to the ground. Of course, she rides it like your face is the saddle on a bucking bronco, forcing you not to move as she does.

When you can finally breathe, you fall to your hands, smearing her slick off your face and onto the back of them. You don;t get a second to reorient yourself when she grabs you by the jaw, forces you to look at her directly in her four eyes.

“Yes, I think I chose perfectly.”

[peargreen-jellybean]

dp x w idea i want to draw but idk if i should. pretty nsfw but nothing super graphic, down below 👇 (thoughts?)

wade in the kitchen, cooking something either really good or a bit fucked up

no shirt, no pants. wearing a “spooning leads to forking” apron tied back tight. skimpy underwear on his hips. still wearing the suit’s mask and boots

logan gets home- after a day of bringing home the bacon or hero work- and stops dead in his tracks at the sight of wade shifting around the kitchen. he’s used to various states of nudity from wade. but he hasn’t seen this much warped skin exposed and barely covered with lace-y underwear before. with a big bow, from the ties of the apron, tied up just above the curve of his ass

logan croaks a ‘what are you wearing?’

wade happily explains that the laundry is being done, including most of their clothes and the suit (and damnit he forgot to add fabric softener, it makes the suit feel so nice against his elbows). the first load (haha) will be done soon

logan clarifies he means the partially sheer, lace underwear

still happy to explain and unaware of the inferno fire gaze behind him, wade babbles about vanessa, a pegging session, a different pegging session with him wearing her panties, they were too small but the fabric was nice and the night was awe-some. he online shopped, jacked off a couple times in between, got a pair in the correct size, ruined those one night whoopsies, got another pair, those got stabbed thru with a machete, bought another pair and those are what he’s wearing. they’re his laundry day outfit

logan cannot. stop. staring. the shimmer of scarred skin and the muscles that move beneath it have always been rather attractive, but the tease of being almost completely bare increases the attractiveness of everything tenfold. his wide shoulders. the dip of his back. his curving hips. the apron’s ties ghosting his ass. his long legs

oh logan is fucked, and he cannot bring himself to really mind

———————————

at this point, i don’t know that i would do to continue this scenario bc it can go soo many directions. but the idea of a scantily clad wade oblivious to a very into it logan will not stop rattling around in my head