#he always was such a kidder.

[bullet-prooflove]

Anything That Truly Matters: Max Bankman x Tristan Silva x Reader

Tagging: @burningpeachpuppy @kmc1989 @ilariyalavorowrites @the-girl-who-used-to-write @i-wish-i-had-an-accent

Companion piece to:

The Photographer

It’s five in the morning when you creep into your cabin, exhausted from a night spent editing and organising pictures. Your eyes feel like they’re trying to burn their way out of their sockets and you’re filled with a sense of exhaustion that makes every step momentous. You can’t even be bothered to undress by the time you collapse onto the mattress because all you want to do is sleep.

You’re just starting to drift off when you hear the door open and two pairs of footsteps padding across the carpet.

Max and Tristan.

You usually return to your own cabin instead of Max’s after a formal night so you don’t wake the either of them. You know they have a long day with Wellness Week amping up and they both need their beauty rest.

“I love you both dearly.” You mumble into the pillow as you feel Max’s gentle hand on your ankle removing your shoes. “But I’m not up for any fun right now.”

“We know my love.” Tristan’s lips ghost over your ear as he draws down the zipper of your jumpsuit. “We’re here to take care of you.”

They undress you together, Max’s teasing fingers guiding the fabric from your body,  Tristan’s tender kisses lingering on your skin as his hands ghost over your flesh, warming it against the cold chill in the air.

The scent of patchouli floods your system. Max’s rich woody undertone mixed with the zest of Tristan’s fresh citrus as one of their t-shirts is draped over you, the material hugging your form.

“Come on baby.” Max whispers against your lips as he pulls back the sheets. “Let’s get you under the covers.”

Tristan’s already guiding you back down onto the mattress and you sigh contently as Max tucks the sheets in around you, enveloping you in a cocoon of comfort. His hand runs lightly over your hair as your breath starts to even out, your muscles relaxing.

“Tristan will be back to check on you in a while.” He murmurs and you grumble your acknowledgement, burying your face even further into the pillow.

It’s outside of the room that Tristan confronts Max because it’s usually the two of them that check in on you, that climb into bed alongside you for a nap or a little play before you disappear for another busy evening.

“I know what you’re doing.” He says with his hands on his hips as they stand close together in the corridor, their voices low. “You’re starting to pull away from her.”

“No, I’m…” Max sighs, his palm rubbing over the nape of his neck. “The two of you haven’t had much time together recently and I want you to have that, to enjoy it in case…”

In case you do choose to leave.

“Max…” Tristan chides with a mirthless smile. “You can’t kid a kidder. I know this has to be breaking your heart, it’s breaking mine too but if you start to draw away from us, from her, you’re going to risk losing something wonderful, something that only comes around once in a lifetime.”

Max swallows hard against the ache in his chest. He spent an awful long time alone during his COVID isolation, his world was just one room, no human contact. It feels like that when he considers a life without you, without Tristian. A world devoid of colour, without joy.

“I love the two of you so much.” He finds himself telling Tristan as he looks into his eyes, his own stinging with emotion. “I don’t want to think about…”

He can’t bring himself to say the words, he knows that Tristan understands. He’s the only other person alive that could.

“I know it hurts.” Tristian whispers, his palm coming to rest on the space where Max’s heart resides, his thumb tracing tiny circles over the fabric of his shirt. It’s a gesture that soothes Max, that brings him back to the present when he goes back to that time, before you, before Tristan.  “Anything that truly matters always does.”

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Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[oceanamethyst]

@mysticcollectionbee

When I first got this reply, I gave a really quick, excited answer.

But looking back…

Holy crap.

Season 1, Episode 5, the scene where Alastor yells at Husk. I think it was so much more significant than we realize.

“B-but Ocean-”

SHUT UP LET ME EXPLAIN.

First of all, I’d like to mention Husk's cold remarks towards Mimzy. Husk is always grumpy, but pay attention to this, as it'll be more important as I go on.

“Hey boss, can I have a word?”

“... What is it?!”

Husk asks Alastor to talk. Alastor hears Husk out.

“You and I both know Mimzy only shows up when she needs something… that bitch is trouble. And who knows what kind of demon she fucked with to come running to you this time?”

“It's nothing I can't handle! Don't worry, Husker! And who in their right mind would cross me?”

Husk warns Alastor about his friend only being around because she needs something. Alastor immediately dismisses it, causing Husk to have an interesting reaction.

“I mean- you've been gone for a while. And it's not like anybody knows why-”

Pay attention to Husk's TONE OF VOICE. His tone was the same as when he was talking to Angel Dust in the first half of Masquerade (up to Loser, Baby). He's trying to get Alastor to listen to him. Almost like he's trying to HELP Alastor.

“They don't need to know! And don't you worry your fuzzy head about it!”

Once again, Alastor dismisses Husk, this time, in a condescending manner (as if the previous time wasn't condescending already). Alastor is establishing his control over Husk.

“Grgh! You may own my soul, but I ain't your fucking pet.”

This kind of reminds me of when Husk screamed “Christ!!” in response to Angel’s banter.

“But you are!~”

Alastor firmly states that he is in control.

“Big talk for someone who's also on a leash…”

And then Husk states that he is NOT in control, as his soul has been sold as well.

“Haha, what did you say?”

“Nothing, I uhh-”

“If you ever say that again, I will tear your soul apart and broadcast your screams for EVERY OTHER DISRESPECTFUL WRETCH, who DARES to question me.”

“U-understood.”

“Lovely… haha! Good talk, my good man! Always nice to catch up!”

Alastor basically screams how he's in control, and proves it, abusing Husk in the process.

Recap.

Husk doesn't like Mimzy. She only comes when she needs Alastor. She may be annoying, and perhaps that is part of Husk’s animosity towards her, but the main reason is how she only comes when she needs Alastor's assistance. Basically… Husk doesn't like Mimzy because she is USING Alastor, and Husk knows it.

Husk asks to talk to Alastor, and Alastor listens.

Husk warns Alastor about Mimzy, and Alastor dismisses it.

Husk continues to nudge Alastor, while Alastor is insisting that he is in control, ultimately ending with Alastor showing his power to Husk, traumatizing Husk, whom was just trying to help Alastor.

After the Loan Sharks attack the hotel, Mimzy approaches Alastor.

“Oh, Alastor. What a fantastic show, bravo, as always! Thanks for helping li’l ol’ me out of a tough spot. You're always such a pal.”

Mimzy is showering Alastor with praise.

((crash)) “Hehehehe… Sorry about the mess, but I'm sure the li’l bug can take care of it for you…”

She's sugarcoating all the damage to the hotel.

“...I think you should go, Mimzy. Now.”

Alastor was probably thinking over what Husk said. I can only imagine Alastor's thoughts right now.

“Oh! Pfft! Alastor, you're such a kidder, you. You're so funny!!”

Mimzy is playing off what Alastor said as a joke, exaggerating her facial expressions.

“I mean it! You deliberately brought danger to this place just to have me clean up your mess! I can't have that here…”

Alastor paraphrases what Husk said. Meaning that…

ALASTOR DID NOT KNOW THAT MIMZY WAS USING HIM.

That's right.

Alastor most likely did not know (possibly in denial) that Mimzy was using him. And even if he did, why would Alastor allow someone to use him like that? He has a job to do. And he puts his friendship with Mimzy over it.

“But you love taking care of me! What? You don't actually give a shit about this tacky place, do you? Come on, I know you! You heartless son of a bitch.”

This is straight-up gaslighting. I just so happen to have some notes about abusive relationships open right now, and we're checking a few boxes. She's guilt-tripping Alastor and having him question his true thoughts to get him to do what she wants.

“You are welcome, if you actually want to give redemption a shot, but I think we both know that's not really your style… So you need to leave.”

Alastor puts his foot down (or should I say ‘staff down’).

“F-fine! Who needs you?! Have FUN with your little princess and your little hotel! See if I care!”

Mimzy storms off after some more guilt-tripping.

And Alastor’s expression is just… Ugh. Betrayal, feeling done with everything, maybe even feeling stupid?

And then Husk is happily eating popcorn like an absolute king. Perhaps it was because Alastor listened, perhaps it was because Mimzy stormed off, or maybe because Alastor put his cane down and ended the relationship (despite how cruel Alastor can be).

Anyway, this conversation, this whole situation is almost the saddest example of the phrase, “Don't close the barn door after the horses ran away.”

Alastor is so desperate to be in control, yet at the same time, he is oblivious or okay with being used.

What is going on with this guy??!

His character is so interesting, no wonder he's my comfort character (my poor baby WOAH WHO SAID THAT????)!

Okay I'm done bye.

[curiositymemes]

WHITE CHRISTMAS SENTENCE STARTERS.

taken from the 1954 film. feel free to change wording and pronouns and provide context as necessary. do not add to this list.

“what’s this all about, name?” 

“you know that and i know that, but name doesn’t know that. at least he won’t for about an hour and a half.”

“well, that just about wraps it up, fellas.”

“certainly too bad name couldn’t be here for this little yuletide clambake.” 

“we really had a slam-bang finish cooked up for him.”

“that’s not a very nice christmas present, is it?”

“i don’t want you to forget it, not that he’ll let you.”

“don’t just stand there. how do i get off?”

“it’s just my arm.” 

“it looks bad.” / “nothin’ but a scratch.”

“i’ve kinda written a little song, see…”

“i just happen to have it right here.” 

“he’s got a fair voice, he’s pretty funny in living rooms…”

“i wouldn’t want you to feel any special obligation…”

“okay, dynamite, let’s give it a whirl.” 

“mutual, i’m sure.”

“nicest christmas present anybody ever had.”

“i thought before the train ride we’d grab a bite to eat and have a few laughs?” 

“believe me, it’s for your own good.” 

“let’s face it, name, you’re a lonely, miserable man. and you’re unhappy, too.” 

“you look at me with those great big cow eyes of yours and i’d melt and go along with it.” 

“you’re off your nut about a mile and a half!”

“sure, it was my idea, but i didn’t think i was creating frankenstein!” 

“i never thought i’d hear you open up like that, name.” 

“let’s just say we’re doin’ it for a pal in the army.”

“it’s not good, but it’s a reason.” 

“just like honesty needs a little plus, fate needs a little push.” 

“there, that’s cozy, isn’t it?”

“that’s quite an act you two kids have there.”

“he always was a good-looking kid.” 

“let’s say it with music, huh?” 

“now, promise me you won’t say anything important til i get back, huh?” 

“everybody’s got an angle.”

“hey, if this keeps up, we’ll practically be in-laws before the dance is over.” 

“vermont should be beautiful this time of year. all that snow.” 

“it’s no trouble, honey.” 

“we like to take care of our friends.”

“are you kiddin’? pay off a chiseling rat like that?” 

“don’t stop for anything.”

“i got a feelin’ i’m not gonna like this.” / “i got a feelin’ you’re gonna hate it.” 

“either you have tickets or you haven’t tickets.” 

“oh, no, you wouldn’t do this to me.”

“used to be a grist mill and a barn, now it’s a tyrolean haunted house.” 

“i don’t know what he’s up to but he’s got that rogers and hammerstein look again.”  

“how much is wow?” / “right in between ouch and poing.” 

“tell me what you wanna dream about and i’ll know what to give you.” 

“it’s kinda dangerous, puttin’ those knights up on white horses. likely to slip off.” 

“you ever hook up with the fellas in the horseshoe game?”

“read it, son. slowly.” 

“you always were a lucky stiff.”

“never kid a kidder, son.” 

“i think it’s impossible, ridiculous, and insane. i wish i thought of it first.”

“stick your nose in other people’s business and eventually you’ll find out things you wish you hadn’t.” 

“i’d rather not discuss last night, thank you very much.”

“last night she can’t sleep. today she won’t eat. she’s in love.”

“if that’s love, somebody goofed.” 

“well you’re not exactly superman, but you’re awfully available.” 

“i’m more the ‘i don’t mind shoving my best friend into it but i’m scared stiff every time i get close to it myself’-ing kind.” 

“i feel the same way about my cocker spaniel.” 

“don't you think we oughta kiss or something?” 

“you realize you’re getting the best girl in the whole wide world?” 

“after you get to know him, he’s almost endurable.”

“you know, in some ways, you’re far superior to my cocker spaniel.” 

“you don’t have to feel responsible for me anymore.”

“i can’t help feeling this is a tactical error.”

“if i said anything, i didn’t mean it.”

“i was so busy with other things i must’ve sounded like an idiot.”

“how could you be stupid enough to try and pull a stunt like this?”

“you should consider yourself pretty lucky. you could’ve been stuck with this weirdsmobile for life.”  

“when it comes to conniving and finagling, you can’t beat this boy.”

“if i wasn’t such a mean ol’ biddy i’d break right down and cry.” 

“i never saw anything look so wonderful in my whole life.”

“we may get snowed in here!”

[pfhwrittes]

introducing ghost's daemon, jo.

-- -- -- --

whispers have followed ghost since enlisting, endless speculation over what form his daemon takes - if he even has one at all.

"i 'eard 'e's not got one. would make sense, big spooky fucker like tha'."

"nah, you're wrong mate. it's a fuckin' raven or summat. got Separated from him back in mexico. bet you a tenner it's still out there."

"the fuck're you on about? she's a dog, nasty bull terrier thing. saw her myself, swear down."

they're all wrong of course. ghost can feel her little heartbeat tucked safely next to his, staccato and rapid-fire but still alive. not Dust like he feared after digging himself out of a single grave a lifetime ago.

ghost closes the door to his room, triple checking the lock as always and sliding the bolts that technically don't exist according to the facilities team across the top and bottom of the door.

a twitching nose pops up over the edge of ghost's tac vest, fine whiskers already quivering.

"perimeter check, kidder?"

ghost hums and crouches carefully, extending his arm so his daemon can scamper over his shoulder before landing with an "oof!" as she hits the carpet, her little brown body and naked tail flailing slightly.

"careful, jo." ghost murmurs as she pats at the toe of his boot with a tiny paw.

"i'm good, we're made of tough stuff."

ghost grunts and moves away to pull off his gear as jo scrabbles up the strategically placed chair onto the desk and pulls herself effortlessly (or as effortlessly as a rat can) onto the windowsill to check for tampering.

"find anything?" ghost asks, a hand already toying with the edge of his balaclava. he's desperate to shave, the four day old stubble chafes against the fabric, but he waits for the all clear as always.

"negative." jo says in a poor imitation of ghost's deep voice causing him to huff a quiet laugh as he pulls the balaclava off.

"y'r not funny."

"yeah, yeah. you say that every time." jo's nose twitches delicately. "ooft, you need a shower our kid. you're proper rank under there."

ghost grumbles and throws the wadded up balaclava at the desk, nearly bowling her over.

"comin' from the rat daemon."

"hey! i'll have you know we're cleaner than cats!"

ghost shakes his head as he steps towards the en-suite, a luxury few are afforded on base, jo's affronted tones following him.

"and don't forget to wash your hair this time! i ain't dealing with all that dust!"

[sweetskullzy]

“Mrs. Katsuki Bakugou…”

Minors DNI/ soft smut & plot/ PT.1(maybe)

Kisses placed to your temple. He stirred. You knew your boyfriend had never done anything like this before. He hated being affectionate. But when you opened your eyes, your world was different than the shitty 2 bedroom apartment you had with your boyfriend in the city. Oh… oh no. It was a beautiful room. It looked like it was out of some sort of anime. You out your hand in front of you and it was different too. You were definitely different. You peered down towards the edge of the bed and saw a blonde man sitting on the edge of your bed. Your boyfriend was never a blonde.

Firey red eyes turned back to you. You knew that face. Your heart stuttered in your chest. Was this… Was this really happening. Your eyes widened and your chest started moving quicker. You watched this Anime before. The entire inside of you set on fire.

“Ba-Ba…Bakugou…?”

You say almost instinctively. The eyes furrow in your direction.

“The hell you just call me…?”

Something inside you stirring. You didn’t know what to call him. You damn near wanted to cry. Out of both frustration and joy. You never thought you’d meet him in person, or have the chance to be in his bed. Your mind running as he gets up and starts moving closer. Your face red with fluster as his body as an adult looks greater than what you could possibly imagine in the anime. But what exactly were you doing in his bed.

“Uhm~ Errrr~ fuck… Katsuki?”

“Try the fuck again”

The voice from him so low and reverberated off the walls of your head. You gulp as he tackles you. He starts to nibble on your neck. This was so confusing… you thought. He couldn’t possible be in a relationship with me, you tried to cope. You shake your head.

“Uhmmm… Boom boom boy…?”

Now you’ve done it. He bites a little harder on the opposite side of your neck. You wince a bit. But ultimately say nothing. He licks up the side of your neck and you can feel your panties getting wet. Your boyfriend was someone you loved with all your heart. Other human men were too annoying. But right now, you weren’t sure those things Existed and you were not sure what the hell was going on here. It was… fucking with your mind. You always told people who would listen your anime crushes. But never did you think that IRL you would actually get to meet one. Was this in real life. Everything looked different but this big guy is all over you and it’s not your imagination.

“Damn… What the hell did I do to my wife to make her call me anything other than baby or babe…?”

The way it rolled out of his mouth as he made his way on top of you and straddled you to the bed by your wrists. It made you want to submit right there… On the other hand your face turns stale with shock. Did this fucker just say wife…? As in… Marriage.

“Eh-…. WHAT?! Oh nooooo no no no no NO?!”

You damn near scream as he covers your mouth. His face looking at yours puzzled.

“Hey?! Quiet before you wake the damn kid and I won’t get to have my fun for… whatever this little prank is this time…”

Apparently you’re quiet the kidder in the relationship you have with Katsuki… At least that’s how it was in your mind. You got married to AND had a baby with an anime crush… even though when you went to sleep last night, it was next to your boyfriend of 2 years, with no plan of marrying him. Before the thought could really process in your mind, Katsuki Bakugou had his tongue in your mouth and hands on your body, rubbing it in all the places. You let out a small whimper and he knows he’s got you hooked.

“Mmmmm~ Now you’re gonna get to call me Daddy, Mrs.Katsuki Bakugou.”

He said mockingly. You blinked as his hands traveled, things started to heat up between you both and your mind wondered off yet again into the set of this is real because I can navigate all 5 senses… How the fuck were you supposed to live now or hell… even go back to your own reality…?

[xluciifer]

❛ you’re welcome to stay, if you want. ❜ // for alastor PWEASEE

From this prompt! / Always Accepting!

... A very tempting offer.

An offer Lucifer typically would decline and excuse away that he had businesses to attend to. But Alastor would see clearly through his exterior. He and the many residents of Hell knew of his lack of attendance at the throne, not partaking in the duties he'd been chained to forgo for eternity. A deed signed in his honor that he never consented to.

He gave pause to consider, something he seldom does as his gaze bore at the back of the chair the radio demon situated himself in, cozy and warm by the fireplace to read a novel he'd been consumed in with lofty tunes swirling the atmosphere. The King only stopped by momentarily, but the comfort that radiated in his possible departure was too great to pass.

But he wouldn't bite the bait so easily; he'd make the Overlord work in patience during his stupor of thoughts. A finger rose to tap at his chin, mulling over the options that'd come with staying versus leaving. Yet, truth be told, it was a ruse of a stubborn man who couldn't concede defeat straightforwardly. His answer was clear in his mind the moment the option was delivered. Hard to pass a good ambience when he sees one! And the company of Alastor was far more welcomed than he ever dare to speak.

⸺ ❝ Hmm, really pulling my leg here on this one, Al. Buuut, for your sake, I guess I can due ya the honor of spending more time with the King of Hell, himself, after all. Aren't ya a lucky duck? ❞

A kidder, a jest; his steps easily crossed over back in front of the man in question before Lucifer helped himself onto his throne of Alastor's lap. He's royalty, after all! He sits whenever he pleases and takes what he wants and that so happens to be the book in clawed appendages. Cane disposed, his top hat discarded onto the floor behind, he helped himself at making himself cozy, reading whenever it was that Al left off on but visible enough for the Radio Demon to still read.

The angel would never speak truths of his intentions but the company that the man provided him spoke volumes in itself, allowing himself vulnerable in the claws of a demon. He smiled lightly as a hum reverberated through the chest he laid on; no word was needed. As wishy-washy as Lucifer could tend to be, Alastor knew enough by his actions.

[wanderlustknightofmagic]

Catastrophe Part 1

Rainald was laying on the bed within his room at the Inn and staring at the ceiling. Something felt... off... wrong... like he shouldn't be here right now. Then, he'd rapidly sit up before nearly jumping to his feet and then begin to try and open a portal. "No... No no no... This is just a trick of some sort..." He'd declare while trying to create a rift to the castle first.

Nothing.

"The king and queen perhaps just erased it because-because I often arrive unannounced! Ha-Ha ha! Yes, of course! Mother and Father's home, it has been a long time and I'm sure they could use a visit!" He'd try to calm himself before taking a step back and trying another portal.

Nothing.

His eyes were wide, and his breathing became uneven with an increased pace. His head felt full and yet empty all at the same time. "T-They-They must've erased the magic so-so I have to show-up in person th-that way I can't just, randomly show up! Yeah! Yeah! That's it! If... If there's one place I can always return to it's home! This'll... This'll all just be funny joke! Haha! They are all such kidders! I'll-"

Nothing.

Rainald dropped to his knees instantly. "No... No no no no NO!" He'd scream before raising a fist to punch himself in the face. "Wake up damn you! WAKE UP!" He'd strike himself again, causing him to fall over completely and stare up at the ceiling. "Please... Please someone, anyone, just tell me this is all a bad dream... Please tell me if I go looking... it'll still be there... that my home wasn't ripped away from me..." Tears began streaming down his face as he brought up an arm to cover his eyes.

[catbountry]

Also, fun fact for those who do not know, the guy who played Steve in Harvester (our main guy) ended up being a convicted pedophile. He always was a kidder!

I did know about that, yeah.

A kidd(iddl)er.

[from-nobody-to-nightmare]

Chapter 6: Shorn Anew

“You have to start, or in this case, restart, somewhere.”

― A.D. Aliwat, In Limbo

A melodious accent greeted them. “Zestial! What a surprise! I’d never thought I’d see you in my neck of the woods so soon after our last get-together.” She giggles, “ So, whaddya need?”, she spoke sweetly. “If it’s about the shipment Franklin’s still workin’ on it. Now; I know I said we’ll take care of it, but something like that takes time.” 

“Madam Rosie I would like to introduce you to my newest client.” He gracefully stepped aside ushering the giant ball of wool forward with hands tightly clasped together. Her eyes were almost covered completely in deep black wool leaving her small muzzle exposed to the world and she greeted Rosie with a soft, “Hello.”

“Oh, my! Zestial are you sure there’s a demon under there?” Rosie gave him a bemused smile as her eyes widened when she heard an unconscious small baa make its way out of the sentient ball of fluff. Nadia’s ears swiveled forward through the fluff she tilted her head slightly to try and listen to the new lady’s voice better.  “Quite so.” He chuckled lightly in amusement. “By the bye, I understand there might be someone within the small croft on the far outskirts of thy district that can shear her.” Rosie’s pitch-black eyes widened in absolute bemusement as she covered her mouth in a poor attempt to stifle a giggle that blew up into boisterous laughter. Zestial’s eyes widened quite a bit at her expression. “Oh my, that was too funny, you're such a kidder,” she said trying to reel in her chuckling as she wiped a tear from her eye. Rosie looked at him only to see a stoic expression on his face.“Oh wow! You're actually serious.” She gave a pointing gesture to the puffball expressing her awkward surprise.”Ahem…well, are they ok with this? I mean we could always just go to Mabel’s Beauty Parlor. It’s much closer.”

“I need her wool intact. I doubt a simple hairdresser has the necessary talent to harvest her wool properly,” he explained. “Oh, I don’t think that’ll be a problem. It’s like she has scissors for hands, ‘sides little missy her could use a deep clean. Where did you say you found her? She looks as bad as she smells.”, Rosie held a handkerchief to her face as she plucked off a couple of loose twigs from Nadia’s wooly head. A small ow left Nadia’s lips immediately afterward. “While I did find her within the park near here; she did mention her unfortunate manifestation at what I can surmise is the Doomsday District.” he held his chin lightly as he remembered his earlier conversation with her. He gazed down upon Nadia, “What say you, Miss Nellie?”

“Oh, well…. Umm, I think a bath sounds rather nice about now.”, She said with a bashful smile poking out from under her wooly face, “It’s always easier to cut clean hair than dirty hair. I think it would also make it easier to process.” Nadia’s voice trailed off into an uneasy mumble at the last sentence drained of enthusiasm while she tilted her head down in a side glance at her edging hooves. “I mean… a bath sounds lovely if it’s possible.” A small lamb-like baa could be heard as one of her ears subconsciously swiveled back and forth.  

“Aww... She’s so shy, and darling.”, Rosie’s eyes widened along with her toothy smile as she held her face and leaned her elbows on the counter. Both overlords looked at Nadia in surprise when they heard a loud ungodly rumbling. Rosie broke the awkward moment with a light laugh “Well now, I say someone’s more than a little peckish. I know just the thing to tide you over.” She reached into the display counter and opened a small rectangular box like the ones used to store cookies in, “How about some lady’s fingers?” Nadia’s ears perked up hearing ladyfingers and held out her hand timidly. “ Oh don’t worry I won’t bite ya. Well, unless you ask me to.” she joked as she took a lady’s finger from the box and placed it in her waiting hooves. A small gracious thank you came out of the fluff as she sniffed the ladyfinger. She didn’t smell anything unusual given the circumstances and gave a quick almost unnoticeable shrug as she put it in her mouth. 

Nadia’s jaws stopped mid-chew when she bit down and hit something hard. She couldn’t see what she put in her mouth but she could taste it and this did not taste sweet. It was like a dry and chewy beef stick with something hard in the center. “Mrs. Rosie….” she cringed, “I don’t think I can eat this. The middle’s too hard.” she motioned for a napkin and opened her mouth just enough to show two flat ridges hugging onto the hard piece she bit. She took it out and folded it into her napkin, “ I don’t remember the cookies being savory and tasting like meat.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry lamby. I suppose I wasn’t clear. I meant lady’s fingers not ladyfingers.” Rosie enunciated. 

“Oh!” Nadia softly exclaimed. A bit overwhelmed by the new little fact that she had just eaten what would have been someone’s finger was followed by a sad-sounding “okay” of acceptance. She tapped her index fingers lightly together repeatedly wanting to politely change the subject. “May I have a bath now?” 

“Sure Kiddo; Just let me get Franklin to cover for me.” She turned her head towards the back of the store and hollered, “Hey Franklin! Cover for me I’ll be back soon.” A faint okay was heard from a distance. “Now that that’s taken care of let's shake a leg.” Rose grabbed her parasol as the doorbell jingled when Zestial pushed it open. Nadia extended her hand out again, “May I please hold your hand again.” He looked back and held her and again, “Certainly lamb.” 

Rosie turned to face them in front of her Emporium, “Now don’t worry Mable’s ain’t far. We’ll be there in two shakes of a lamb's tail.” she giggled with a grin when she caught a glimpse of Nadia wiggling her tail at that expression. They followed Rosie’s lead down the block to a lovingly decorated beauty parlor with flourishes painted on the windows framing the name Mable’s Beauty Parlor in big letters. Niadia’s ears perked up as she heard the jingle of another bell as the door opened. Rosie was greeted by a shrill nasally voiced woman shuffling over with a big grin ready to hug her, “Rose! Long time no see! How are ya? Lookin’ for a new do, or freshen ya nail polish?”

“Nah, not this time sweetie. I got a big job for you.” She motioned to the big puffball in front of the door standing next to the tall looming figure, “I’m cashin’ in a favor. Little missy here needs the works.” Rosie ushered Nadia in front of her to give Mable a closer look. “Uh-huh.” Mable stared blankly for a moment and then pulled Rosie closer and whispered, “Rosie I love ya but really? I’m a beautician, not a farm hand.” Naida’s ears perked up and leaned toward the whispering lady and overheard the disparaging comment causing her ears to droop down a little. Rosie rebutted, “Now, now, I wouldn’t have talked you up so much so He would bring her here if I didn’t believe in you. And besides who wouldn’t love a chance to earn brownie points with one of the most well-known Overlords in all of Pride?” Mable held one of her long fingers up to her chin as she looked at her with rather worried incredulousness, “Well, all right….I mean if you think I can, I suppose I could give it a shot. I’m gonna need some extra hands though. I’ve never worked with this much hair at once.”

“She might need some guidance at the moment. Oh, and try to get it off all in one piece.” Rosie gently nudged Nadia at Mable, “Thanks love you’re a peach.” Mable led Nadia to a more private area in the back of the Parlor. “Ethel”, she called out, “ Ready the tub and bring out the gentle shampoo!” 

Rosie went to the front door and flipped the store sign to close then sat down on one of the many chairs by the window. Zestial followed suit and began to read the complimentary newspaper left for waiting patrons, “While I don’t mind the change in plans, I do hope your associate does not mangle her fleece. It would reflect poorly on thou’s judgments.”, he spoke with an air of intimidating caution. Rosie took a deep breath to calm the goosebumps on her skin wondering why something like that was so important to him, “ Forgive my curiosity Zestial but, what the deal with her?” He lifted one set of eyes to look at her and kept one set reading the paper, “Thou art forgiven, though  I am surprised you did not notice it when we walked into thine establishment.” Rosie raised an eyebrow at that challenge, “ Sure she’s cute but I didn’t feel anything unusual when you both walked in. Although….” she said coyly, “ I did notice that her teeth aren’t sharp at all. What is she? Every demon down here has a sharp set of chompers, this one doesn’t even have any fangs.” 

“That is what I plan on finding out.” he passed her the wheft of wool he acquired from Nadia. It was unimaginably soft and cool to the touch now, and upon closer scrutiny, it seemed to waver in and out of view when held up to the air. She rested it on her pale palm and suddenly it was like it was swallowing all the light that hit it. It was as if she were looking into a crack leading into an abyss. “Wow. This is really something.” she stared in awe. “ That still doesn’t explain much though.” She said trying her best to brush off how impressed she was. “Any idea on what to do with it besides an impressive parlor trick though?”

“That remains to be seen.” he deflected her question thoroughly. “I gotta hand it to ya, you really know how to find them. So what did she agree to your standard offer?” she pressed nonchalantly. “ More or less.”, he flipped the page of the newspaper, “ Though if all goes well thou may be able to garner something for thy self for this endeavor.” Rosie looked at him with curiosity, “Are you proposing a deal Zestial? I’m honored, but what are the terms?” 

“ ‘Tis a simple matter. She needs a more tame haven to dwell in. We both know that despite all your cannibals it is one of the more idyllic districts to live in.” he placed the paper back down on the table and conjured up a pot of freshly brewed tea with matching tea cups. “So you want us to play guard dog to your little “investment”, do ya? What’s in it for me?” she calmly took the tea-filled cup he offered her. “ 'Tis a generous sum I assure you, though, by your inquiry, thou desires something more substantial than mere coin.” Rosie nodded in agreement, “You’re as sharp as ever. Now I’m not gonna dance around with this but, I want in; and I want a taste of her.” He took a sip from his cup pondering his answer, “Hmmm…. I will share the benefits at my discretion, but if thou wishes for your pound of flesh then convince her thyself.”  Maintaining her composure she pressed onward, “Can’t you simply just order her to do it? I mean you do own her.” He looked at her unfazed by her query, “ 'Tis a stipulation within her contract that she requested.  The illusion of control is important when dealing with a shrewd soul. Besides I’m certain that fattened willing cattle taste much better than a duressed corpse.” Two truths and a lie to throw her off. He didn’t really own her soul but no one else needs to know that. It made haggling so much easier and less likely that anyone would pursue her outright. 

“I see. I suppose by what you’ve said, I have my work cut out for me.” Rosie pondered and gave a small smile of determination. “ Very well Mr. Morde you have yourself a deal.” Zestial leaned down to her eye level and added with no uncertainty, “In our best interest it is important that any feasting happen after she is shorn to preserve the integrity of her wool. I need full fleeces, not half-growths. I do not tolerate poor quality. Otherwise, there will be steep penalties, understand.” Taking his ominous warning to heart two identical glowing contracts were summoned. Zestial took the feather that doubled as a quill from the top of his hat and Rosie nipped the tip of her finger until it beaded blood. Both signed the contracts pulsed with the glow of their respective magics; Zestial’s green melded with Rosie’s pinkish mauve as scrolls disappeared into the aether from which they were summoned.

Meanwhile, Naida was led into a large wooden tub filled with cleanser and water. She sat nervously as the two women began to scrub deeply as more soap was poured onto her head. The rhythmic movement on her scalp did wonders to relax her she drowsly leaned in letting out a deep sigh of relief. “Well, someone’s having a good time.” Mable chirped. Nadia baaed languidly in response. “Watch the nose deery.”, she heard as Ethel poured the water quickly over her head, some got into her nose and she started coughing frantically. “Easy sweety. Let it out; you'll be fine.” Nadia blushed through the entire wash even if nobody could see her cheeks under all that wool; they definitely heard her sheepish bleats. They scrubbed everywhere while picking out the debris from her wool; even the most private places did not go untouched. A couple of cold rinses later and squeezing the excess water they took her out of the tub and had her stand on a stone bathmat. “Ok sweety, you're gonna feel a good bit of wind rushing around you but don’t worry it’s just to dry you off. We can’t shear wet wool now, can we?” Mable chimed in, “ Alright Ethel we need a cool dry; let’s hop to it! A one, and a two, and three!” 

The air around Nadia started as a cool breeze and built up to a strong gust; the whirring wind buzzed around her ears uncomfortably so she covered her ears to block out the sound. The gust was of course refreshing, like the one you wished for on a hot summer day and before long her wool was comfortably dry. “Wow, that was amazingly fast.” she marveled. The pair led her to another room with enough space to shear her. “You’ve been very good about this love; but now comes the final stretch.” Mable grabbed the special shears that Ethel handed to her and continued her explanation, “ We’re gonna need you to stand with your arms and legs stretched out so we can start from the middle of your torso,” Nadia felt nervous at the mention concerning her previous experience with anything about her chest, “ and we are going to wrap around until we get to the other side, okay?”  Nadia nodded slowly letting out a small, “Okay”. 

Her ears wiggled in time with the scissor snips and her eyes began to twitch under her wool as an unwanted smile crossed her muzzle and intermittent giggles seeped out. “Hehehehehe” Mable and Ethel had to stop for a bit when the giggles turned into roisterous laughter more than a couple of times. “I’m sorry I’m just so ticklish,” she smiled and uttered in playful apprehension. They smiled back even though they still had to do her face. They sighed and held their hips waiting for the giggle fit to finish. “Oh, you.”, said Ethel, “Are you quite finished? We still have to trim that face.” The duo continued their work through all the shudders and snickers as Nadia tried to hold it in. Soon enough she was freshly freed from her woolen coat and her skin shuddered as cool air-kissed her now almost bare skin. The freshly sheared fleece was laid out between several chairs like a dark blanket. 

Then Mable guided Nadia to a salon chair and took the freshly sharpened straight razor Ethel haded her, “We are going to start on your face now so hold very still for me okay?” Nadia answered back, “Okay.”, as she tightened her eyes closed. Shaving her face freed her from the heavy wool covering her eyes but she wouldn’t open them until Mabel gave her the all-clear as she brushed off loose bits of wool from her face. “There we go you can open your eyes now.” She slowly opened her eyes to reveal that they were a beautifully soft shade of lavender. With her blurry vision, her little smile grew as she spoke, “Thank you for all your hard work. It’s such a relief to be out from under there.”

The two beauticians smiled as Mable began to sweep up, and Ethel took a barber brush to sweep away the stray clippings that still clung to her body.  Then Ethel got her hand unexpectedly stuck in Nadia’s chest cavity that was left from her botched surgery. Nadia tried to help her wiggle free but couldn’t. Ethel called out, “Mable a little help please I seem to be stuck.” Mable turned around to see a very distressed Ethel now elbow-deep and going further. She grabbed on and tried to pull her free but to no avail, she hollered out, “Mrs. Rosie! Help!”

Rosie came in upon hearing the screams rushing to see Nadia death-gripping the salon chair and Mable barely holding on, trying her best to keep Ethel from slipping in even further. “Oh, Sweet Heavens!” she exclaimed eyes wide in shock. “Zestial come quickly!” she screamed. Zestial rushed in just as shocked to see all of them screaming while Rosie pulled Mable by the waist as Ethel was now almost shoulder-deep in the voracious open chest cavity. In haste, he conjured a shadow net of ropes that were suffused magical energy and wrapped around the three women in mid-peril pulling all three of them free onto the floor some distance away. The flaps of skin rearranged themselves back into position as if nothing happened minus the incision lines. Zestial quickly recomposed himself, “My deepest apologies Miss. Nellie. I had no intention of peering at your bare form.”

Nadia’s eyes were trapped in a tearful and terrified expression. She stayed silent as her eyes shifted to look back at Mr. Morde and began to whimper. He stroked the top of her head lightly and tried his best at a reassuring smile, “There, there. That was a lovely yet hopefully unintentional display of power, child.”  She wailed as the other ladies dusted themselves off the floor. Zestail loaned her his handkerchief to cry into; her skin rippled and shuddered at his unexpected touch as he rubbed the back of her shoulders in an attempt to comfort her. “To prevent any further mishaps for the time being it would be best to suture that shut.”, as her tears subsided and became sniffles she nodded in agreement. “Excellent.” With a flick of his wrist, a green glowing needle appeared.

He then took a piece of her clean wool and used his magic to spin it into a thin almost translucent thread, then threaded it through the eyelet. “This will only pinch for a moment, lamb.”, he had her lay back on the salon chair as the needle touched her skin. She heavily sucked air as the needle took on a life of its own from then on as it gracefully weaved her chest incision shut and disappeared when it finished. She woozily got up from the chair and held the back of it to regain her leg strength. 

Rosie took down one of Mable’s drapes from the front and turned it into a makeshift cloak to cover her on the way back to the Emporium. She quickly thanked the ladies for their help and said she would return for the fleece to save the scraps in a separate parcel for her. Then she and Zestial held onto one of Nadia’s hands as they ushered her through the door as it jingled. Nadia tried her best to hold on to them as she walked back on wobbly legs to the Emporium. 

With the coast clear Mable let out a sigh of relief, “ As much as I love dear Rosie, I’m gonna send her such a bill to make up for this fiasco. Right, Ethel?” Ethel nodded in agreement as she searched for the barber's brush hoping that it made it out too. “Mable darling, I suspect that It ate my brush.” 

[a30somethingslookatpopculture]

Top 10 Holiday Themed Horror Movies

(In no particular order)

Any holiday goes! With the exception of one, I will be avoiding more than one film from a franchise. Because otherwise, I could just fill this list with Friday The 13th films and call it a day. But the one I am making an expectation for is self explanatory, as it's COMPLETELY different from the rest of the series.

Friday The 13th

Yes, it is holiday themed in name only, but hey, any excuse for me to watch slasher films every F13, i’m in! There’s nothing I can say about this film that I haven’t said a thousand times before. It is my favorite movie of all-time

 My Bloody Valentine (OG)

Hearts ripped out & sent in heart shaped Valentines with fun poems…A killer who emerges on February 14th to kill those who have parties that day? Sign me up! This one required just a little bit of internal debate, because I thoroughly enjoy the remake as well. But I ultimately decided on the original. I am an 80s Slasher movie junkie! That being said, I love the look and feel of this film more. The spx are so fantastic that even the director threw up at the sight of one of them. That’s pretty awesome to me!  I also love the authentic look of the mine (coal mining means a great deal to me). The laundromat scene is probably one of my top favorite horror movie scenes. And shoutout to “The Ballad of Harry Warden” that plays at the end, too! It’s a bop! (Gosh, am I old for using that term? lol)

 Halloween III: Season Of The Witch

To me, this is the ultimate Halloween movie! It captures both the spooky, horror atmosphere as well as the commercialism of the holiday. And a bonus, the masks are modeled after classic Halloween figures.

Halloween 

It’s Halloween, everyone’s entitled to one good scare! Halloween is the better movie, I just have a soft spot in my heart for III. Again, there’s nothing I could say about 1978’s Halloween that hasn’t been said before. It is probably THE holiday movie of all holiday movies.

Gremlins

As much as I love Christmas, most films I wait until December to watch. But Gremlins is one that I can watch at any time of the year, and I'm always down for it. I adore it! It captures the feel of Christmas so perfectly. Snowy landscapes, the decor, caroling Mogwai/Gremlins, kills using Christmas items, Gismo is even given as a Christmas present! 

Black Christmas

This is one of the earliest Slasher movies, starring the great Margot Kidder. It takes the classic killer calling from inside the house trope and makes the most magical time of the year scary. There’s nothing I can say about this one that hasn’t been said before. It’s well worth the watch! 

Silent Night, Deadly Night

Another Christmas one, because how could I not? This time, Santa is our killer. Sort of. It’s very festive and has some gory-good kills! Here’s looking at you, antler scene! 

Leprechaun

The great Warrick Davis is a cunning and witty leprechaun in this one, who kills for his gold. It’s a fun St. Patrick’s Day watch each year that's full of laughs (any of the films really, but especially this one). And hey, we have to thank this movie for jumpstarting Jennifer Aniston’s career! 

Trick 'r Treat

This one tells five separate but interconnected stories on Halloween night. Each spooky, and fun in their own way. But little “Sam”, a supernatural trick or treater, is the real star of the film. He‘s there to enforce the “rules of Halloween” with his candy themed weapons! He’s oddly adorable. 

Happy Death Day

Groundhogs Day…but on your Birthday? What a wonderful idea! Add in being killed over and over again on your special day. What a wild concept. 

Honorable Mention: My Bloody Valentine (Remake), Thankskilling, Valentine, Jack Frost, Krampus, I Know What You Did Last Summer, Jaws - those two totally count in my mind lol

[proshippresentmic]

Pinned info time

Call me Mic I guess, about 30 years old, he/they or similar.

I have a deep resentment for the terms profic and proship, but it scares kidders and sensitive catholic guilters away, so it's in my url.

I don't care what someone writes in fiction so long as they're a decent person to the real world. If you disagree then politely go back to your cesspit, I have no time for radfems and protofascist babies.

This account is for seeking/responding to RP ads, because I realized a lot of the seeking blogs here required an account for "liking to reach out", rather than just dropping a discord.

I use my discord account tag presentationmicheal for RP purposes, for the time being I'm ok with random friend requests, but I'm also a grouchy old man and if your vibes are rancid you're gone.

Goes without saying but 18+ partners only. Honestly preferably 21+

Under the cut is my general RP info!

Extremely very horrendously gay so I won't be interested in MxF, also extremely very horrendously trans so expect most if not all of my muses to come with pussy DLC.

Currently I'm only super into writing My Hero Academia (manga reader!).

Muses

---

Dabi / Touya Todoroki - primary muse, snarkastic piece of shit, I do not pull punches with him nor will I write him being a doting husband, or other out of character extremes.

Even in AUs where, somehow, Enji was an alright father, my Touya ends up a serial killer.

That said I can reel him in a little, but he will come with "canon typical asshole" warning either way.

No hard pref on whether he's got a cock or cunt.

---

Katsuki Bakugou - not 100% confident with him, but getting there. Always written at least 20 years old, UA was a college to me, what of it.

Again, canon typical asshole.

Primarily play him trans, but I can be convinced to play him otherwise.

---

Present Mic - Pretty sure I could write this cringelord in my sleep at this point. Nothing special about him, he's chillin'.

Slight preference for him having cock n balls, but I'll write him otherwise more than happily.

---

Currently on track learning Hawks, Aizawa, Enji and Natsuo. Unsure when I'll be confident enough.

---

Kinks, Limits n Shippy shite

Shit that I love: Omegaverse, hybrid AUs, height differences, enemies to lovers, biting/scratching, piss, petplay, dom/sub, ponyplay, bondage, muzzles. interrogations/captured be heroes or villains, male pregnancy (pussy preferable, but can deal with otherwise), public sex, heat/rut, aphrodisiacs, intercrural, mirrors... honestly most kinks not listed in limits/meh do something for me.

Dead dove edition: Incest, noncon, abduction, torture, guro/snuff, fuck-or-die, fuck-AND-die, human pet, meditorture, more I've probably forgotten.

Hard limits: Characters under 18, feet, scat/gas in general, mental institutions, ABDL/Ageplay, raceplay. I may have forgotten something, so this will probably update later.

Honorable mention: 'daddy' kink makes my skin crawl, but if your pitch is interesting I can tolerate it.

Meh: Vore, hyper, inflation. I hate calling them "Deviantart Kinks" but that does end up a good descriptor. I am into a couple of these but not for canons, can't explain it just don't like it.

Ships I'm primarily interested in:

Dabihawks, Dabiskep, Todocest of many flavors, Dabizawa, Dabibaku, Bakudeku, Kiribaku, Todobaku, Endhawks, Erasermic, Mightmic, Erasermight, Dabishigs.

Open to others (and I love a good crackship).

(I'm willing to break out my not-quite-confident guys for some of these, just forgive any fumbles.)

Misc shit

I'm of the opinion the characters would have fouler language were this manga higher rated, so expect my guys to drop a couple harsh words here and there. If you're offended by the word 'fuck', we won't get along.

I've got no hard pref for positions, I'll write them all.

Response times vary from "100 responses a minute" and "once every couple days" depending on how much work I have on. If I'm slacking and not responding every three days though, time to whallop me with the cartoon mallet.

I'm a grown ass man with an honesty clause. I will be upfront if I've fallen out of love with a thread, and if I feel up for coming back to it later. I expect the same of you, please.

My active hours are somewhat random and work dependent, and can sometimes be entirely flipped in a couple days.

RP through Discord only. We can make a server!

Third person paralit, 2 paragraphs minimum, no need to match my length if I go off the rails!

I really, really, really love headcanoning/"what-if"s/spitballing. This doesn't always have to become a thread, I really dig discussing what could have happened with current threads if XYZ was different, this isn't a wistful sigh wishing things were different. I'm going to be talkative OOC, you will get memes if they're relavant to what we're doing - or if I figure you'd just like em, I am not going to treat you like an RP token machine.

I don't expect that much legwork in return, but please at least be willing to do dumb spitballing OOC a little.

[maplesynth]

do you have any stories (original, fanfic, or published work) you've been thinking about lately?

these aren't recent but there's three that live rent-free in my head:

Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson: the least favourite out of the three but i hold it in a special place in my circuits because it got recommended to me in the weirdest place possible, chatting with a seller on ebay who turned out to have worked on the vintage software i was looking to buy (he was selling a boxed copy of it). it ends on an allegory for ejaculation. other than that it's a pretty riveting story about hard computer sci-fi (intertwined with historically inaccurate excerpts from the protagonist's ancestor's influence over the second world war).

Microserfs by Douglas Coupland: this one is really dear to me. it tells a fictional tale of a group of people who leave Microsoft to spin up a start-up to build a virtual object-oriented playground that gets compared to Lego, pushing for what they believe to be an utopia for what computers can be and do. the story revolves a lot more on the people building it though, and it's extremely intimate in that way.

The Soul of a New Machine by Tracy Kidder: non-fiction. tells the story of the actual real people who built the actual real Data General Eclipse MV/8000. if you liked AMC's Halt and Catch Fire there's a lot in it that likely served as inspiration for that show (and likewise if you enjoy this book you'll probably enjoy that show).

of course there's always Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy too but i figured that was too cliche

[myhauntedsalem]

The Superman Curse

DC Comics began life as Detective Comics. Nowadays, like Marvel Comics, its known for its abundance of Superheroes such as Batman, Green Lantern and Wonder Woman. During 1933 two friends, Jerry Siegel and Joe Schuster, combined their imaginations to come up with the Superhero that single-handedly began the entire genre. Five years after selling their idea to Detective Comics, Kal-El, to give him a Kryptonian name, made his debut in Action Comics #1 and went on to not only save the world hundreds of times over, but to dominate it. Quickly becoming an American icon and global phenomenon, Superman spawned an industry that covered everything from television to film franchises to merchandising.

Even before the presses rolled on that first incarnation of the Man of Steel, misfortune was already at play. Both Siegel and Schuster sold more than just the idea to DC Comics; they sold the copyright itself and, for many years afterwards, missed out on all the income that their original concept would create. While the pair did end up with the royalties that they considered that they should have had, it took almost an entire lifetime to accomplish.

What happened to the boys might simply be a case of corporate exploitation and naivety, as they were not the only hopefuls looking to turn an idea into a powerhouse juggernaut of a franchise. They were just among the handful that had the right ideas at the right time.

Since the early days of Superman though, a great many people involved with the legendary superhero have suffered some misfortune or catastrophe. This catalogue of woe simply cannot all be written off as mere coincidence.

George Reeves was one of the first actors to portray Superman in the 1950s television show The Adventures of Superman. He played the title role for 6 years. When he was only 45, Reeves suffered a fatal gunshot wound that was officially ruled as self-inflicted, but many believe that it wasn’t.

Christopher Reeve brought Superman to the big screen in 1978. Eight years after making his final appearance inSuperman 4, George’s namesake was involved in a horse riding accident that left him paralyzed for the rest of his life.

In the same film franchise, Marlon Brando made a cameo as Jor-El. In 1990, Brando’s son was found guilty of the shooting of his half-sister’s boyfriend and sent to prison for a decade. Half way through his sentence, Cheyenne Brando took her own life.

Margot Kidder is best known as Lois Lane. She went missing for several days in April 1996 before being found in a paranoid and delusional state.

Richard Pryor stole the show in Superman 3 in his role as Gus Gorman. Three years after, he was diagnosed with Multiple Sclerosis.

Lee Quigley also had a cameo in the first Superman film in 1978. He was the newborn that was sent to Earth amid Krypton’s destruction. Lee was found dead in his mid-teens due to complications with substance abuse.

Muriel Hemingway appeared in the final Superman film in 1987. Muriel’s older sister, Margaux, was found dead from an overdose of sedatives. Muriel has always refuted this conclusion.

Three members of the production crew for Superman Returns were victims of minor accidents. One was assaulted and mugged. Another fell down a flight of stairs and the third smashed into a glass window. Kate Bosworth, Lois Lane in this reboot, blamed her break-up with Orlando Bloom solely on the curse.

Superman 64 was a video-game that was released to poor reviews on the Nintendo 64. Bad graphics and glitched gameplay are among the negative comments. It has been voted as the worst game ever released on the Nintendo 64 system.

Critics of the Superman Curse will inevitably insist that these instances are nothing more than simply a case of bad luck. Other actors that have been involved in Superman productions have managed to avoid becoming another statistic. Dean Cain has had a successful career after playing his version of the 1990s television Superman series Lois & Clark. The same is true of Teri Hatcher, probably even more so. More modern Supermen Tom Welling, Henry Cavill and Brandon Routh have yet to taste any misfortune due to their involvement in Superman. In fact the latter pair dismiss the idea of the curse outright.

Superman has even appeared on Broadway! The star of the 1966 musical It’s a Bird, It’s a Plane, It’s Superman! was Bob Holiday. According to Holiday, the notion of a curse is a silly one and says that his experiences have been highly beneficial and ‘nothing but good’. After his stint on Broadway ended, he became a very successful businessman in Florida until his retirement.

[badbitchstromboli]

Things like this always happen on the job— it’s practically expected, like towel theft at a nice hotel, or towel theft at a not-so-nice hotel. Witches and summoners dial you up and leave behind collateral, as though that’s a thing they can dictate without a discussion. If I had a nickel for every time someone tried to buy me off with their local denominations, I’d be a sucker! Anyway. This always happens, but luckily for me, I had an excellent mentor: Miasma the Devil, Second Class. I'm sure you've heard of his exploits, and I'll be the first to say that the whole "impersonating a celestial figure" charge is bogus— I'll likely be the only one to say it because the Powers That Be have been unrelenting about that, advocate or no. I dial up Miasma, who's been on house arrest in the sixth layer, and, kidder that he is, he lets it go to voicemail. I leave him a message as I pick up this kid and inspect the thing.

"Hey, M! Calling you up about a summoner attempting to dictate a trade equivalency or whatever. They left behind a kid—" I hold its ankle at arm's length, rotating it. "Anyway, give me a call back? I'm not sure what to do in the meantime if this thing starts to stink. That happens, right?"

15 minutes later, I've made the kid a mushy sandwich because I think that's what kids this size eat; I'm pretty sure they're still on mush until they're 8 years old or 4'9", I read that in some handbook somewhere. M hasn't called back, but that's part of the familiar ribbing he does with the ones he likes. I think. I mean, I've always assumed it was based in our connection, the kidding which belies the indivisible connection between a mentor and mentee, several years and missed communications down the line, but maybe it's something else? Maybe—

It hits me like the Infernal Express, Hell's quaint-and-overpriced SuperBullet Train for the tourists and the Stans: M is in trouble. It's one thing for normal folks to be in trouble, but a Devil, Second Class in trouble? A whole different ball game. Everyone knows it's the Devils that really matter, and I'm kicking myself thinking about it, knowing I have got to get back to Hell immediately.

I set the kid down and bounce a bit in place, trying to figure out how to move forward, onward and downward, as they say. I need to set boundaries with summoners, I really ought to have done that before she zipped out the door, but there's still time; there's always time to set a boundary. I need to set boundaries but I also need to get my demon ass down to Six to bust M out of whatever situation they've got him in down there. Then, also, I've gotta figure out what sort of Monkey's Paw situation I should enact about being summoned in the first place, otherwise my boundaries will be ignored, and then, of course, I've got to get myself one of those pretzels from Walt's Bar. It's a full day of work, and to top the whole thing off, I've gotta look after this kid or I'll end up accidentally accepting it as part of the bargain and that'll shoot my whole plan to shit. I roll my neck and hear it crack in about a dozen and a half places, crack my knuckles and hear that wonderful gaseous trill; I sigh as I make my decision.

There's an old recipe, an ancient and rarely used bit of intended culinary chemistry, that comes from, as most scraps of such arcana do, a Baba Yaga from way back. I had flipped through Hell's JSTOR in my undergraduate demonic studies and seen the recipe, and after several rapid-fire texts to my roommate's younger brother, who still has access to the database for free, I was reading through the digitized pdf. I'm pretty sure I'm going to owe this guy something, which is fine, because he's cute as fuck, but I swore off undergrads after the last one broke most of the bones in my body, my heart, and stole all my best nugs. Like, I get it— we're a rough bunch, and demon bones grow back quick, but my nugs? Little bastard pisses me off something awful. Anyway.

It's a simple recipe, a ritual, really, but I read each word because I don't trust my magic yet. I might one day, but these days I'm rusty and I didn't major in the arcane. I did my time there, sure, but it just wasn't exactly my thing. If I'm honest, I was kind of the demonic equivalent of a business major, so. Whatever, everyone skates by in something, right?

The ritual is a pinprick of blood, a recitation of my True Name, a proprietary Binding, and a Stare of Pure Intention. If you're thinking such a Stare is impossible for me, you're showing your entire ass, my dude, because Pure Intention is like Manifesting; your intentions, whatever they are, unadulterated and put into a blast of eye contact. It's all very simple Magic Fundamentals that even a business major like me can grasp. So I grasp it, and begin with the pinprick, which comes from the kid. The kid gets confused about it, but I shush it so it doesn't start crying and the shushing thing works so I start with the rest of the ritual. I'm fixing the kid with the stare when my phone goes off and I lose a bit of the Purity of Intention, which I just know is gonna screw with the integrity of the finished product. But it's too late: the ritual finishes and Baba Yaga's Demon Baby Recipe is complete. I am the kid; the kid is me.

If you're unfamiliar with the politics of Hell, which you likely are, because the politics of Hell are anomalous and arbitrarily anachronistic, there's a good reason for my using this recipe. For untold ages there was this symbiotic relationship which allowed undocumented demons to cross into and out of the circles, but for whatever reason, the Powers that Be's recent position on this has shifted, and it's apparently an issue to be a demon where you don't belong. Souls and humans, on the other hand, are considered little more than freight, and get a wave through. You can pretty much talk your way all the way down to Nine— getting back is a bit harder, but hey, palms grease just the same all over.

I hulk out as a Demon Baby and look like a veritable gremlin, a real grotesque. I've never been a Demon Baby before and it's actually really funny; I feel like a miniature skeleton wearing draped-over chubby-jelly skin, but as a descendant of a drude, I have never felt quite right in a body, so maybe it's just that. I try out the vocal chords and they seem to work, stilted and stulted, the way humans are, and I flex my squishy little arms, augmented by my demon form so they look absolutely ripped. I crack a smile and grab my phone to take a picture, and that's when I see the reply from Miasma that interrupted the ritual: "Need help". I send my Demon Baby ass to hell without so much as a snapchat.

As predicted, I get waved past the Infernal Gates by the guard on duty, Meil, one of the Later Fallen whom Barrett would agree is (ahem) mid. I hurtle downward, gleefully baking the flesh of my face nearly off before I remember it's a rental, and I invoke my ancestral privileges to protect the carapace. If you've never flung yourself into the Pit, I recommend it; it's cathartic to start, and you're dead and damned anyway so you might as well get silly with it. I hear the wails of the other souls zipping downward at speeds orders of magnitude faster than the naturally occurring velocity cap, and think how lucky they are to ride this ride. "Hell's Mouth is hungry, and physics can go fuck itself," is basically our motto. It's not great for advertisers, but they can take a cue from physics, per our motto. The first of the Infernal Gates is the one most watched, and if you're not a demon lacking documentation, you're not looked at much, so you pick up speed and you keep hurtling, and if you can figure out the brakes, you can stop off before Nine. By the time you're midway though, the type of Wronski Feint you'd need to do is nigh impossible for a human soul— they just don't have the wherewithal. I'm shooting for two-thirds of the way down, allegedly, and when I see my stop I flex my Demon Baby body and nearly wrest the bones free as I fling myself into the myocytus of Hell's beating heart. I hit the Hell Flesh floor and pop up out of a nearly perfect roll and crouch in a readied stance, just in case.

A moment passes, and no one is upon me, so I follow my intuition (and the directions Miasma left as a forwarding address) and I'm at the holding cell in a flash. It's odd: it looks nearly like an apartment ought to look, from the outside. I'm sure it's something dreadful inside, and I prepare my little gremlin self for the reveal, then rip the door out of its frame.

"Who the—" Miasma, fully enswathed in takeout boxes and their contents, legs akimbo on ottoman and couch, begins a yell before he catches a look at me. "Okay, what. Is going on here?"

"M?"

Miasma squints hard and I flash a bit of my face through the one I'm wearing, and he raises his eyebrows in surprise.

"Hey, buddy, what's going on?" He calls me that to protect my True Name; there's power in our True Names and he's very conscientious of that.

"You texted that you needed help! I thought you were strapped into some torture room because of the whole Impersonation case."

Miasma glances at his phone and reads our text chain.

"Oh shit; I meant to put a question mark. I was asking if you needed help. That's my bad, I'm sorry bud."

I kinda stand there, full door in hand, a buff little baby gremlin thing, awkwardly breathing and taking it all in.

"House arrest looks good on you." "You think?" "Often." "Solid goof, buddy. Need a Writ of Passage to get back topside?" "I would love one, yeah." "Got you covered."

Miasma gets up from the couch and brushes bits of chow mein off his shirt; he stretches and I hear those satisfying spinal cracks that conjure images of rending marrow from deep within calcified husks. He heads back to find a pen deeper in the apartment and I snap my head around, swiftly searching for a prize I'd meant to have taken ages ago— I find it in the front closet and snag it into the hall and out of sight. M comes back and hands me a Writ.

"That should get you back. You taking the Jake?" "I figured on it, yeah." "It'll be traffic this time of day, but it's still the best path out." "Hell traffic is kind of comforting, you know? It's congestion you can trust." "Hear, hear. Hey listen, it was great seeing you, bud, but they do have a regularly scheduled check and I can't have visitors, so." "Right. Yeah. Of course. Miss you, M." "Back atcha, bud."

I hand him the door. He gives me a bit of a salute, and before he sits back into his routine he says:

"Make sure you get more than just the kid for your services. Remember the formula: overhead, plus hours worked, by minimum infernal quantum expenditure, adjusted by at least ten percent, travel time inclusive." "I remember, M." "Taught you well, didn't I?"

I smile at him and head to the Jake. It's going to be a long climb up, and my tiny little Demon Baby arms, filled with their rippling muscles as they are, are going to be sore when I reach the top of the ladder, but that's to be expected; when I crest the top and deal with whatever xenophobic xenomorphs are on duty, the Writ only making my exit slightly easier to negotiate, I'm gonna be held up so much longer than I want to be, but that's also to be expected; when I find the reversing recipe that will pop me back into my original form and leave this kid behind, I'm gonna be doubly sore, but you know what? I smile to myself, as I snap the towel I stole from Miasma's closet over my shoulders to hang off my neck as I begin the long climb up: things like this always happen on the job— it’s practically expected.

You’re a demon. One day, you’re summoned into a living room, and an exhausted woman quickly rambles about needing to get to work and being unable to find a sitter before flying out the door. Now, you stand in your summoning circle, a toddler staring wide eyed at you.

[neverhangd]

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours: (haha for Raoul? Haha who am I kidding he has a knife to my throat and he's insisting. Haha please help me)

Send me Ⓐ and my muse will rate yours:

Haha, such a kidder! Haha please let Eve go. Please. 🥺

ALWAYS/STRONGLY/PRESENTLY SOMETIMES/VAGUELY/IN THE PAST VERY STRONGLY/IN THE FUTURE NEVER

Attractiveness:

repulsive || hideous || ugly || not attractive || unappealing || not unattractive || meh || no preference || ok || mildly attractive || nice looking || cute || adorable || attractive || pleasant on the eyes || good looking || hot || sexy || beautiful || gorgeous || hot damn || would tap that || perfect || godlike || holy fuck there are no words

Personality:

grating || irritating || frustrating || boring || confusing at best || awkward || unreasonable || psychotic || disturbing || interesting || engaging || affectionate || aggressive || ambitious || anxious || artistic || bad tempered || bossy || charismatic || appealing || unappealing || creative || courageous || dependable || unreliable || unpredictable || predictable || devious || dim || extroverted || introverted || egotistical || gregarious || fabulous || impulsive || intelligent || sympathetic || talkative || up beat || peaceful || calming || badass || flexible

How likely they would have sex with them:

not if they were the last person on earth and the world was ending || fuck no! || never || no way || not likely || not sure || indifferent || I’m asexual || maybe || probably || it depends || fairly likely || likely || yeah sure || yes || would tap that || hell yes || fuck yes! || wishing that could happen right now || as many times as possible || we are already having sex

Level of Friendship:

never in a million years || worst of enemies || enemies || rivals || indifferent || neutral || acquaintance || friendly toward each other || casual friends || friends || good friends || best friends || fuck buddies || bosom buddies || practically the same person || would die for them || true friends || my only friend || sorry raoul no friendship for you. lovers or obsessions there is no middle ground.

First impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to could get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them || he terrifies the living hell out of me || am i going to die??? i’m going to die.

Current Future impression of them:

I hate them so much || I don’t like them || I don’t trust them || they annoy me || they’re weird || I’m indifferent || meh || they seem alright || they’re growing on me || truce || I think I like them || I like them || I’m not sure if I trust them || I trust them || they’re cool || they’re genuine || I think we’re going to get along || I really like them || I think I’m in love || oh fuck they’re hot || I love them || take a bullet for him? yes. and shoot one. and not shoot one.

How good of a kisser:

worst kisser ever || terrible || bad || awkward || just okay || alright || pretty good || good || makes me moan || excellent || exciting || oh god they’re good || I dream about it || fucking amazing || absolute perfection || again daddy || we haven’t kissed (but fuck you I do what I want. obviously.)

[ulkaralakbarova]

Inquisitive journalist Grace Collier is horrified when she witnesses her neighbor, fashion model Danielle Breton, violently murder a man. Panicking, she calls the police. But when the detective arrives at the scene and finds nothing amiss, Grace is forced to take matters into her own hands. Her first move is to recruit private investigator Joseph Larch, who helps her to uncover a secret about Danielle’s past that has them both seeing double. Credits: TheMovieDb. Film Cast: Danielle Breton / Dominique Blanchion: Margot Kidder Grace Collier: Jennifer Salt Joseph Larch: Charles Durning Emil Breton: William Finley Phillip Woode: Lisle Wilson Arthur McLennen: Barnard Hughes Mrs. Collier: Mary Davenport Detective Kelly: Dolph Sweet Louise Wilanski: Olympia Dukakis Arlene: Catherine Gaffigan …: Bobby Collins Lobster child (uncredited): Cathy Berry African Room Waiter (uncredited): Art Evans Elaine D’Anna (uncredited): Justine Johnston Guard (uncredited): James Mapes Druggist (uncredited): Laun Maurer Extra (uncredited): Bob Melvin Hospital Attendant (uncredited): Burt Richards Film Crew: Original Music Composer: Bernard Herrmann Original Story: Brian De Palma Editor: Paul Hirsch Sound Mixer: Dick Vorisek Producer: Edward R. Pressman Screenplay: Louisa Rose Director of Photography: Gregory Sandor Casting: Sylvia Fay Production Design: Gary Weist Associate Producer: Lynn Pressman-Raymond Associate Producer: Robert Rohdie Assistant Director: Alan Hopkins Key Makeup Artist: Jeanne Richmond Sound Editor: John Fox Sound Recordist: Russell Arthur Assistant Editor: Susan Braddon Movie Reviews: John Chard: Sisters are doing it for themselves… Sisters is directed by Brain De Palma who also co-writes the screenplay with Louisa Rose. It stars Margot Kidder, Jennifer Salt, Charles Durning, Lisle Wilson and William Finley. Music is by Bernard Herrmann and cinematography by Gregory Sandor. When newspaper reporter Grace Collier (Salt) observes what she perceives to be a murder in the apartment across the street from her own, it proves to be the catalyst for a trip down a dark psychologically damaged street. To be honest here, the continuous complaints about De Palma being a Hitchcock clone got boring around about the mid eighties. As Hitch is my personal favourite director it has never bothered me one bit that he homaged and borrowed from the great man’s cannon, in fact I have always found that when on form it was great to have someone like De Palma to keep the suspense thriller genre going. It’s not as if he’s the only one who owes his career to director’s from the past really is it? Sisters is a wonderfully trippy suspenser, where De Palma lifts from some great Hitchcock motifs to portray a clinically edgy story based around an article he read about Siamese twins Masha and Dasha Krivoshlyapova. Infused with technical flourishes such as split screens, POV filming and close quarter framing, the director is donating his own blood for the veins of the piece. Suspense is rarely far away, be it characters in some sort of danger, or the possible discovery of a body, there is no pause for pointless filler fodder. While twists and revelations engage the brain instead of insulting it, something many of today’s horror/thriller directors could learn to “homage” from actually, and a nightmare section of film literally unfurled out of the minds eye is top draw. Herrmann was enticed out of near retirement to score the music, the genre and themes at work in the story ready made for his skilled compositions. The score in all essence is lifted from his own major works for Hitchcock, with added sections taken from Jason and the Argonauts and Mysterious Island, but reworked in such away it drifts a perfectly off-kilter vibe across production. Kidder and Salt do great work in tricky roles, and Finley is suitably edgy. Durning is a little wasted, though, but it’s a small complaint in the acting area. There’s a couple of plot holes and one turn of events that just doesn’t make sense, but this is a prime De Palma thriller a...