#holding a stick as if its some bat with nails

[mamaflaire]

Look at em kiddies

kids

[luci-is-a-bitch-x3x]

Obey Me! Solomon, Simeon & A Platonic Luke! with a Goth MC! : basically my thoughts on what their reactions would be, how they would handle having a goth partner, ext.

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Welcome! to another part of this adventure! The characters may not be how you imagine! I apologize for any poor jokes, bad spelling, and terrible grammar. Without further ado, please enjoy the content. ♡

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Goth MC! who does the make up, the white foundation the "crazy" eyeliner, the black/grey or dark color eyeshadow and blush. Classic black or red lipstick with matching nail polish on the Mc's fingers. The saggy looking hair that matches the make up, oh so well. Goth MC! Who has the unkept look, but at second glance you can tell their well kept. At least to some extent. The Mc has raggy, ripped looking outfit but upon closer inspection its clear the outfit is perfectly kept up with. Goth MC! Who has an over extent looking outfit, looking like rags on rags, and the Mc has a dead looking apperance appearing to have risen from the grave. Almost the perfect example of a goth baddie. How will they react?

Solomon

When Solomon first meets Goth MC he is intrigued, he'll raise his eyebrows at them and give them a smirk. Solomon knows that Mc is Goth from the second he sees them. He's a human & he's an old ass bitch. He knows a lot dudes. Solomon would hold all his teasing until he was a little closer to Mc. Knowing that Goth Mc may be sensitive to whats said to them, he doesn't want to have them hating him before he even has a chance to know them.

Solomon won't out right say it but he's def into the goth look. Solomon will for sure say something like- "You look perfectly dead today MC." To Goth Mc just to tease them. He really means that Mc looks gorgeous, but don't worry Solomon is sure to say this as well- "You look drop dead gorgeous today Mc." He just finds it so entertaining to poke fun at Goth Mc's gothness while also complimenting them.

Dating Solomon is playful. Solomon is always teasing Goth Mc, whenever he gets the chance. Mc and Solomon are walking around at night and they see a bat flying around? "Look Mc! It's you!! *pointing at the bat with that stupid grin of his*" Now Solomon may tease Mc like crazy, but if he notices someone making MC uncomfortable or notices Mc actually getting upset by someone else's teasing he will gladly step in. He has all kinds of ways to get somebody to leave MC alone. He is the shady wizard after all. But Solomon will let someone tease Mc as long as Mc's cool with it. Solomon may find what the person says to be funny and he may even use it to tease Mc later on.

Solomon will happily indulge in Mc's goth antics. Mc wants to go to a concert but he might not like the music? He can use magic to drown it out, as long as he's with Mc he'll stand there with a smile on his face. Mc wants to go see a scary movie or go to a haunted house? He'll go with them, but if Mc jumps at all, they should prepare for a years worth of teasing from Solomon. Honestly he'll never drop it. "Mc! Do you remember when we went to that haunted house? That ghost on a stick popped out and you jumped like 10ft in the air!! You should have seen you're face!" Old man is cackling. Rolling on the floor cry laughing at the memory.

Receiving gifts from Solomon is always interesting. He either gives something to Goth Mc as a joke, or he'll have a really thought out gift that he gives while teasing them. Gifts from Solomon range in all different ways. Mc misses firework shows in the human world? Solomon just so happens to have a spell that looks very similar to a firework show. Why are the colors dark and fitting to Mc's goth aesthetic? "Everything I do isn't meant to fit you're aesthetic Mc. Its just dark colors, you're such an Edge Lord" don't let the old man fool you, he absolutely did it specifically for you. He just wants to see his adorable apprentice happy. He will gladly theme and make everything dark colors just to see Goth Mc smile.

Simeon

When Simeon first meets Goth Mc he thinks its a facade. Although Simeon thinks Goth looks adorable on Mc, he can tell that under that dark attire is an "angel". Mc can do no wrong in this mans head. Their just a human who needs some guidance. Simeon doesnt find Goth Mc to be scary or offputting. The complete opposite actually, Simeon sees this human who wants others to find them a certain way so that nobody approaches them. But Simeon can see Mc's bright soul, how can he choose to not approach such a lovely person?

Simeon is very intrested to learn about Goth from Mc. He loves to understand more about humans, and talking to Mc is a bonus! Simeon is a charming chill angel, if he doesn't like something that Mc does, Mc would never know. Simeon loves all that Mc does tho, perfect little human in his mind. Simeon is happy to listen to Mc's music choice or "help" Mc find Goth attire in Devildom. Mans just got to the Devildom himself. He doesnt know goth the best, even after Mc explains it to him, so he'll pick some dark colored clothes up and- "Mc is this Goth? Whatever it is to would look good on you!" He's trying his best please be patient he might eventually catch on.

Dating Simeon is like how opposites attract. A Goth Mc who doesnt smile a lot and is usually wearing all black? A perfect fit for the smiling angel who is usually wearing white! Simeon will particapte in Goth Mc's interest but its more of im doing this because the person i care about likes it type of thing. Its not that he dislikes their interest they just aren't his choice of activities. Thats not to say he won't have fun doing these activites with Mc. Seeing Mc's smile makes everything worth it. If Mc and Simeon watch do something that offputs Simeon slightly, he may take a day or two before agreeing to partcipate in the activity again. But he suprisling handles all of the activites well for an angel. He always has that charming smile on his face, for example even while watching a horror movie. Hes just happy to be hanging out with Mc!

Simeon's favorite activitys would be writing short stories with Goth Mc. Yes, Mc's stories are much darker than his. He loves reading their ideas and stories! "Mc this is amazing! I was on the edge of my seat while reading it! You should consider writing a book!" Simeon means it. Write a book Mc, he'll buy all the copies. He also enjoys doing poetry with Mc. Their poetry may be very different but he loves hearing Mc's dark poems. The ones that are dark and sad but still somehow a love poem always make Simeons heart flutter! Simeon also really enjoys doing pumpkin carving with Goth Mc. It doesn't even have to be close to halloween, he just loves the domestic feel it gives. Bonus when Luke joins and it makes him feel like a family carving pumpkins. Simeon can carve pumpkins rather well, but its not the showing off he likes, I just feel like he likes pumpkins. He thinks their cute man, have you ever seen a tiny pumpkin? Adorable.

Simeon is really sweet when it comes to gift giving, but some gifts can seem useless. "Mc! I saw this itty bitty pumpkin! It looked so cute i just had to buy it for you! *holding out a tiny pumpkin with that loveable smile*" Cute Simeon, but the pumpkin will rot unless Mc figures out how to use magic to keep it from going bad. Simeon will get Goth Mc all kinds of gifts. From tiny pumpkins to goth accessories to a random drink because it had a cute ghost on it. Everything makes him think of Mc, and he loves seeing Mc smile, so he doesn't mind buying the gifts! Simeon's also the type to add a little post it note or sonething with a little goth doodle for mc when he gives these gifts. Mc! You better save those! Sometimes its just a little bat doodle other times its a cool but scary looking castle doodle, stuff like that. Little ways to show that he cares and that he's thinking of the goth human.

Luke (platonic)

When Luke first sees Goth Mc, he defiently freaks out. Not in a good way. "What the?!?! I thought Mc was supposed to be a human?!? Did the demons already make Mc a demon??!?" Calm the smol angel down and explain that its just how Mc wants to look. Luke does not understand and will take either a lot of explaining or some time to adjust. Luke probably treats Goth Mc almost similar to how he is with demons at first. Lots of scoldings from Simeon, and Mc standing up for him a few times and the young angel will be besties with Goth Mc!

Now Luke may not understand why Goth Mc dresses the way that they do, Luke will still not tease them for their appearance. He even stands up for Mc when someone else teases them! "Don't talk to Mc like that y-you demon!!" Now Mc has to stand up for Luke and beat up some demons because the demons are calling Luke a Chihuahua. He may be one but leave the poor child alone. Together Mc and Luke will defeat all the bullies! Friendship power! Or something cringe like that.

Being Best Friends with Luke is interesting... lets be honest, Luke can not do scary stuff. But he'll try and be brave and go into the haunted house with Mc. "I'm an angel Mc! I can't just let you go in there alone! I have to protect you!!" Very sweet of him, but Mc will spend most of the time protecting Luke. They hold hands and Luke will cower behind Mc at any jumpscare. Dont point it out or you'll have an angry embarassed puppy. For horror movies, in game Luke always seems to be trying to watch them and then getting scared and having nightmares. So Goth Mc has to choose very light scary movies, the ones that are barely scary. Luke will still get scared, so Mc and him always have a sleepover after watching scary movies. When Luke wakes up in the middle of the night scared from a nightmare, Mc's there to comfort him. Goth Mc will gladly fight ghosts for you Luke!

Luke loves baking or making sweets! So Goth Mc and Luke are the Halloween sweets masters! Sorry Barbs move over, Luke's the baking master now. Luke makes the cutest Halloween sweets! Mc has never seen such a cute cupcake! Luke makes all scary things look cute on his sweets. A zombie? Now its an adorable zombie! Who'd be scared of that? Luke, Luke would. Please refrain from pushing the cupcake towards him and saying "boo!" Luke also loves pumpkin carving. Or making food out of the pumpkins! Luke's carved pumpkin is always adorable, its usually just a silly face but sometimes he goes for a more intricate design! Luke's pumpkin food is the best! And he almost always gives the first taste testing to his best friend, Goth Mc. "Mc! I made this new pumpkin tart! Here!! I wanted you to be the first to try it!! Tell me what you think!" Goth Mc and Luke being besties would be so cute, change my mind.

Receiving gifts from Luke is adorable and sweet. Luke gives Goth Mc all the spooky/Goth sweets he bakes or finds. He'll give Mc goth stuff as long as its cute. Oh a bat plushie on a keychain? "How adorable!! Mc would love this!" He immediately gets two. What? The bats cute! And who doesn't want to match with their best friend?

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Thats all for now babes! Sorry this took so long! I struggled doing Solomon's part, nonetheless I hope you enjoyed!! ♡ This is not proofread. Feel free to comment or reblog any thoughts or any add ons you have! More stuff will be coming soon! So stay tuned! Stay safe! & Stay cool! ‹𝟹

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⟡˙⋆Masterlist⋆˙⟡

[boytouya]

「SAINT」 ; takami keigo | hawks x male reader

wc: 1.5k

warning: suggestive themes & language, religious themes, one (1) crude joke about nuns, abrupt ending (scrapped fic)

additional tags: priest reader (kinda), incubus hawks, probably some religious trauma, agnostic writer who doesn’t know how to write things relating to demons + religion

a/n: this is loooong overdue and also months old, i’m so rusty so i’m so sorry if this isn’t good. anyway there’s about 3-4 versions of this fic so if you see it somewhere else dw abt it (unless stated otherwise)

Your fingertips trace the thin, pale paper of your annotated Bible, cold pages crinkling under the weight of your palms. Covering for your father, a well-liked priest, was not an easy job— especially when you strayed further and further from the Holy eye with every passing moment. The pews of the church remain dimly lit, moonlit and almost sparkling under the glass stained windows. The rich, brown and polished wood glows, light dancing between warm yellow lights aligned by the aisles, and despite the unwavering wholeness you should feel, you stare back at the empty seats with nothing but loneliness.

It was only a matter of time before you begged someone, anyone, for even a sliver of company.

You exhale slowly, reaching up to readjust your hair, even if it doesn’t actually move. Your wrist in your peripherals momentarily consumes your vision, but you make no effort to quicken your movements. The last time you’d felt this way he encountered something darker than light, something tempting. Something that, still, reminded you of your own loneliness, and the exhaustion that comes with it. The memory remains fresh, as though you were hit with a hammer amalgamated from the darkest parts of your mind, unbeknownst to the consequences.

In a Church, you suppose, love is always in the air, a thickening aroma that’s much too sweet for your liking. It sticks to the murals within the room, it clings to your goosebump ridden skin, it’s plastered to every page you turn to. It’s excruciating. It’s exhausting.

And yet, with the smell of his skin lingering on your body, your mind empties, and your thoughts simultaneously erode whilst coalescing into a serene hum stuck in the far back of your mind. The bittersweet tranquility floats above you for just a moment, descending as soon as moonlight peeks through the windows and into your darkening, tired eyes. It stares back into your irises, taunting you despite your expensive effort to avoid it.

It and it's dark children who hide behind the muse of a wickedly comforting smile. But, you decide, it’s because that’s what you seek.

It, who sleeps beneath darkening shadows, moonlight dancing across its shiny eyelids and painting its face with a silver hue. The way it bounced off its skin, you’ve ong since decided night was made for it. An Incubus. With warm skin and a glowing, crimeon tattoo below his belly button, a thin tail with a pointer end, strong dark wings, and a scantily clad choice of clothing. With angelically golden locks of hair, that fall in his face from time to time, and just as golden eyes.

A strong jaw, furrowed eyebrows, calloused and veiny hands that look rather large— or so they’d seem when they glide across your skin, sharp claw-like nails that drag against the wood pulpit.

It— or, he, who’s hands curl into fists as he grasps at the decorative cloth on the pews’ arms like a lifeline (or in most cases, your hair), as if holding them tight would somehow keep you there with him, limbs tangled and lips locked. Sinful in a place supposedly free of sin.

He, who stirs under the sun’s gaze, uncomfortable warmth blooming from his body. But you… You want nothing more than to hold it in his hands, cherish the comfortable silence and bathe in his inviting body heat, hidden away from the chilling air that signifies winter’s welcome.

He— Keigo, you’d come to learn, who wakes at the feeling of your trivial eye, with long eyelashes that bat against his cheek with grace. A smile places itself upon his lips, but before he can speak, a yawn ripples out his mouth. You watch as his sharp teeth nestle into his gums, completely relaxed under your critical gaze.

The rosary beads wrapped around your fingers slip, smacking against the ground where you two stand, and gasps leave both your lips. You, somewhat mortified as you quickly kneel, tucking your feet beneath your body as your shaking hands reach for the blessed beads. Keigo quirks an eyebrow, much more awake as he steps out to place his heavy boot just beside your fingertips.

There’s a sickening sound of friction against the polished wood beneath his shoe.

“You look better this way,” He exclaims, an uncanny smile splitting his lips as he crosses his arms. It’s almost impossible to notice the bulge of his biceps, your eyes trailing the way his fingertip taps against his flawless skin. Ignoring how obscene this must look— kneeling beneath an incubus in the middle of a church, with no one but the moon as your witness— a scoff leaves your mouth, and you decide the tainted prayer beads will do fine resting on the floor. “No, really! You should stay like this.”

As you begin to stand, his warm palm presses into the swell of your shoulder, keeping you hunched over, your face basically pressed into his hip. It slithers upward, resting at your cheek. His large hands obstruct your vision, nimble fingers pressing into the meat of your cheek as if it’ll leave a mark. Under different circumstances you’d have keened into the— almost — intimate touch. Under different circumstances you’d have kissed his palm.

“Keigo—”

“It’s almost natural at this point. You and the nuns must go crazy in here,” His eyes shift, much darker than before, and something tells you he doesn’t find that joke funny. From what you can see, his body stiffens awkwardly. His jaw clenches, then his Adam's apple bobs, and suddenly the air feels much thicker. “Don’t you.”

His question falls flat on deaf ears, as you’re too lost in thought to even think about what he may be insinuating. His thick eyebrows twitch at your hesitation, the hand resting on your cheek suddenly tightening around your jaw. Your lips pucker, forming a small ring as he forces your eyes to meet his.

And, finally, like you’ve fallen out of a twelve story building, the weight of his words hit you like concrete. Against his strong hand you mutter, “Don’t even say things like that.”

“Hm.” He hums, releasing your jaw with faux disregard, releasing the prayer beads beneath his feet. He watches your frantic gaze flicker back and forth, your lips pursed as you chew on the insides of your cheek. You’re as cute as he is touchy.

He could just eat you alive.

Why’re you here, demon.” Your tone falls flat, missing whatever malice you were supposedly injecting into your tone—and even if it had come out as a hiss, it wouldn’t have phased the being.

“Ooh, ouch,” The blond knocks a large fist to his chest, knocking himself down and stumbling dramatically as he feigns offense. Your stare is heavy on his form, despite the constant insults you just can’t seem to look away. “You wound me, Father!”

“Keigo.” His tail jumps, straightening at the sound of his name passing by your lips. He grins, cheeks blessed with dimples and freshly shaven facial hair. His demeanor remains relaxed, tufts of hair swaying ever-so-slightly as he steps around you in circles, taking in the sights as if he hasn’t seen them a billion times before.

“Always so angry!” Takami chirps, long nails brushing against your cheek as he pinches at whatever remnants of baby-fat you had on your face. Suddenly, the goofy, love-struck expression on his face faulters, and his golden eyes harden. “Whether you want to believe it or not, I felt you calling for me.”

There’s a glowing, magenta ring around his irises that you aren’t sure were there before, burning bright in comparison to the dwindling candles adorning the walls and hallways. You’d hate to admit it out loud, but there’s something inviting about it. As unfamiliar as neon lights accompanied by city streets and the smell of recreational drugs, but simultaneously as familiar as the warm buzz of the sun through glass-stained windows.

“Liar,” You bite your tongue, the bitter taste of nickels and dimes drowning your senses. Blasphemy. “I’d have to be a whole different type of desperate to even—“

“Aren’t you?”

Ignoring the prickles of heat that dig into your skin, you let out a frustrated sigh. You almost want to yell at him, loneliness and desperation are different levels of isolation, and you don’t want to think about where that puts you. His silly, ill-attempt at rendering you speechless wasn’t in vain: he’d won. For now. Proud of himself, Keigo hums in assurance and places his hands on your shoulders. He runs much warmer than the average human, and if he’d been any warmer, his palms would burn right through your clothing and scorch your skin.

”I know,” He pulls you forward, placing a hand behind your head as he cradles your face into his neck. You can hear him take a deep breath, probably trying to engrave your scent into his brain. To bottle it, keep it there, and have it whenever he needed. His warmth makes your eyelids heavy with sleep, and you find yourself sinking into his embrace. Reluctantly, your hands rest at his waist, the pads of your fingertips digging into his toned back, equally wary of his tailbone. “You’re not. Maybe I’m the desperate one.”

TAGLIST: @zawadni @indigowren21 @cannedfoodisbestfood @junkwhoore @dilfchoso @sanderssidesangsttrash @i-d0g @kaito-asmr @jream-23 @mhasimp666 @princejasno @onehellofasimp @corporeal-terrestrial @angelaturservice @shadows-of-nightmares @double-homiecide @rintarosaku @saturnsbend @trailsnix @luckduckanon @oddball215 @toodeepintofandoms @devilgirlcrybaby @playb0ysuna @uwiuwi @yuzukeni *if you’ve changed your username pls let me know!

MASTERLIST

[sp0o0kylights]

Q: Why wasn’t there an Adopt a Jock (lol I wrote this as Adopt a Joke. Sorry Steve.) update this week? (slash sevenish days Idk time is dumb) 

A: It was Steddie Big Bang Time! I am so excited to work with both my artists, and REALLY fricken excited to finally be able to give ya’ll a snippet. 

They mention Hopper’s death here but its pre S4, they don’t know he’s actually alive. 

                                              Eddie

         "Tonight is a good night for the other guy, not me, to die."

                         --What We Do In The Shadows

A scenario for you to ponder: 

You are trapped in the dead police chief's cabin. With you are your three best friends, your life-long gay crush, and several children, one of which is supposedly telekinetic.

Maybe two. 

You're not sure because one of the demonic plant-penis dogs prowling around in packs outside gave you a concussion. 

You have two options available to you. 

Option One) you and your loser friends hunker down with your hands over your ears while Mr. Sexy Chest and the children figure a way out. 

This option has the highest chance of you and your besties surviving, unscathed.

Option Two) You tell Mr. Sexy Chest that you know how to hotwire cars and can likely get the police truck outside running in an ill fated attempt at impressing his very straight (and very firm) ass. 

This option has the biggest chance of you dying, a virgin sacrifice to the monsters in the woods like every horror movie idiot known to man. 

Eddie Munson, elbow deep in wires, cursed himself for being a very stupid man. 

"Can I just say, for the record, that this is really dumb?" He huffed, wiping sweat off his brow with the back of his hand.

 The truck had clearly been sitting here since the old man had died. Likely before then, because Eddie had taken one look at the wires underneath the steering wheel and knew immediately the engine was going to need some work before he even bothered trying to wake her.

Steve, who had a hip rested against the truck, turned to look over his shoulder, down at where Eddie was ducked under the raised hood.  "You can but it won't make you feel better."

"Great." Eddie said, planting both hands on either side of the engine. 

Fucking truck.

Fucking--monsters, and the military and Steve Harrington holding a bloody bat with nails in it casually, like guarding Eddie’s back while he stole a cop car was just a casual Tuesday to him. 

It probably was, considering all Eddie had heard. 

"Does it help any if I tell you this is actually one of our better plans, and not just because we usually don't get to spend a lot of time on them?" Steve said it like a peace offering, instead of the absolute insanity it sounded like. 

Eddie sighed. "No Steve, it doesn't." 

"I didn't think it would.” Steve replied and from the corner of his eye, Eddie watched him rub his nose. “It is a little funny though." 

He looked like he was trying to hold back a smile, like he somehow actually found them having spent a solid two hours coming up with a plan to be hilarious, and if it didn’t make his entire being glow brighter than the dumb yellow sweater he was wearing, Eddie would have cursed him out. 

"God I hate how cute you are." Eddie muttered instead, sticking his head back in the engine. If he could just connect this one wire-!

Then his brain caught up with his mouth. 

‘Oh my god I can’t believe I just said that out loud. 

"What?" Steve asked, confused, and oh, thank god. 

“I said I hated how cut up the wires are. Hand me some of that black tape would you?” Eddie said, sticking his hand up, thanking every deity he could think of that his mouth hadn’t managed to out him. 

He’d gotten too far in this backwards, hick town to get murdered now. 

Muttered angrily to himself under his breath as he continued to do his best to get Hopper’s old clunker up and running. 

He wasn’t sure how this guy had the thing going for as long as he did, but as far as Eddie could tell? 

The truck ran on magic and well-wishes, both of which they were fresh out of. 

“Come on, come on…” Eddie coaxed, as he finally managed to successfully splice and tape the two wires he’d been fiddling with together. 

It wasn’t a solid fix, but it should be enough to get them out of here. 

"Dude it's okay. If you're like--freaked out." Steve said abruptly, and where the hell had that come from!? 

Eddie slammed his wrench down on the edge of the truck, standing up from the bent over crouch he’d been in so he could face Harrington. 

"Steve,” He deadpanned, “I think anyone who isn’t freaked out by all this has something wrong with them."

He got a defensive look in return. "I'm just saying! It's normal! You don't have to brave face it or anything, we've all collectively had a lot of breakdowns over this."

He just got a stare in return. 

For a brief second he thinks maybe Steve is bringing up last night. That he’s suddenly returned to his King Shit status, rubbing it in Eddie’s face how he’d had not just one breakdown when the demodogs attacked but another one later, when all the adrenaline had left him with nothing but mounting anxiety and panic. 

Except when Steve turns to look at him his face isn’t mocking at all, and--oh. 

Oh.

Steve, Eddie realized with abrupt clarity, was giving Eddie the speech he wishes someone had given him. 

This wasn't another weird language game or that fake-nice thing people did where they act friendly to get an up front show of Eddie’s weirdness, just to  make fun of him later for it.

This is honestly. Plain and simple. 

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with it. 

“Thanks.” He manages, voice now quiet. “That’s…thanks.” 

Steve looks away again, rubbing the back of his neck and god, where was this Steve Harrington in high school? Yeah Eddie had seen glimpses of him in his senior year but what about all the years prior? 

The guy before him in jeans and a yellow sweater gave off sad single mother vibes so hard Eddie felt an urge to hug him until all the bullshit went away. 

Except the bullshit wasn’t just the seven annoying freshmen, but also crazy monsters and shit. 

“She uh, she should run now.” Eddie said awkwardly, tapping the car as he turned to remove the few tools he and Steve had managed to scrounge up. “I won’t turn her on until we’re ready to go though, because we’re boned if we turn her off.” 

Steve snorted at that, mouthing “boned” at him and Eddie gave a feral grin in response. Stepped into his space, because how could he not, and clapped Steve on a sweater-clad shoulder. 

“Get the kiddos, Stevie. We’ve got an eagle to fly us out of Mordor.” 

[astro-inthestars]

*spawns in your inbox* hello if you feel like it could you tell me tales and folklore and traditions from the philippines?

OOH OOH OOH i can do that for sure!! We've got some pretty funky tales around here! First thing that came to mind was the creepy monster folklore we have here though <333 One of the main things people might know about us!! (besides our amazing food <33)

Okay okay SO first up, over here there are things we call Aswang. It's basically like... a category almost, due to the amount of interpretations. It's the typical witch/ghost/demon around here! Sometimes it's seen as a beautiful woman, or a monstrous dog, or a elusive ghost with sharp nails and teeth!

Something that may or may not fall under this category, is one of my favorite folktale monster from over here: The Manananggal! Ohhhh this one is soooo messed up and I love it-

It's a creature that sometime appears like a normal woman, but transforms into a horrific creature, with huge bat wings, sharp teeth and nails, and a longgg tongue! Basically our equivalent of a vampire- BUT what makes this motherfucker special??? This bitch can DETACH its torso from its lower body, and flies into the night sky!! And it usually ain't pretty, with its stomach guts or bloody ripped torso flailing in the wind! Its main prey (or the target audience of this cautionary folktale) are pregnant women. Also!! Fun fact; its name, Manananggal, is from the root word "tangal" which means "remove" and with the prefix "ma" it makes the full word mean "remover" or "seperator," orrrr "one who seperates itself" quite literally in this case <3

Enough of the horrors though! Hmmm, let me tell you some traditions we have, though some may not be "official" traditions, and are just some habits we're taught throughout our life- So much so that I actually had a hard time trying to think of some 'traditions' due to thinking these are all normal... and not knowing if other countries actually did them so. . . aahaha- well anyway!

First most notable one is obviously our signs of respect, AKA the uses of the words 'po' and 'opo' and our (probably?) well-known sign of pagmamano! First of all, 'po' is a word used in sentences that indicate respect, like when you're talking to someone older than you, or someone with notable authority! Like "Excuse me po, can I use the restroom?" And with 'Opo,' it's just the "respectful" version of our "Yes" which is just 'Oo' (when you say "oo" to someone older than you or someone with authority, it's regarded as disrespect or that you treat this person casually or are very close and familiar) And pagmano? Well that's also a respectful gesture, like po and opo! But unlike the phrases, this one is a gesture, and is usually only used for older people! Usually elders, actually. The gesture is you taking the older person's hand and gentle placing their knuckles on your forehead, like this in the image!

And along with it you usually say "Mano po" or just any variation of a greeting!

Oh, here's something more "traditionally" a tradition,a nd one of my favorite ones... guess what??? Us Pinoys? We celebrate FOUR MONTHS of Christmas!!!! THAT'S RIGHT!! We celebrate that shit early <3 It's mostly because the Filipino are SUPER duper religious, but also... CHRISTMASSSSS!! We call them "Ber Months" because for us, as soon as September hits... well? That's already CHRISTMAS BABEY!! Christmas lights UP, trees READY, christmas songs BLASTING, parols SELLING- wait. hold on- DO YOU GUYS HAVE PAROLS???

I just looked it up and CHRISTMAS PAROLS ARE A UNIQUELY FILIPINO THING?? OKAY OKAY parols are basically christmas lanterns! THey're bright and colorful and AWESOME and stalls for them line the streets at Ber Months- HERE HERE LOOK!!!

These are what the big and bright ones look like!

And these are what the smaller and simpler ones look like! They're all made from bamboo sticks and japanese paper!! it's AWESOME!

Okay okay, this is probably wAyyYYY too long already but here's some honorable mentions: -Us Filipinos' daily meal ALWAYS include rice. Unless its snacks or dessert or appetizers, I guess- but every main meal, Breakfast, Lunch, and Supper, we have rice! We cook an "ulam" which is what is paired with the rice! It's like rice is the default, and whatever the food is will be eaten with the rice! Like, fried chicken is ulam! Then we eat it with rice! -We've got impeccable hospitality!!! Like, if ANY stranger comes into a Pinoy's home, they WILL offer to eat with them! No matter who! They'll always tell the guest "Kain po!" ("Come eat!") and usually the person would be modest and decline, but eat anyway! It's truly interesting how hardwired these things are... -Our modes of transportation are WAY different from American ones, I find!! Over here we've got Jeepneys, Tricycles, and Pedicabs! So i don't have to explain, here's what they look like:

Jeepneys, tricycles, and pedicabs respectively! Not much to say about the last two, but the jeepney seems REAL notable- They're from military jeeps, but longer and redesigned for transport. And yes, all jeeps have weird designs and briht colors, and most likely has anime on them. Don't ask, I don't know either. These are our main forms of transport over here!! But that doesn't mean we don't have the usual bus or taxi, of course! -Every region and town here has its own fiesta!! we've got SO many fiestas in this country!! and it all varies from region to region.. They usually span a week long or even a month!! Festivals here are typically held to honor patron saints or to display the region’s primary local harvest!

Well, anyway, that's all I've got a- ......what do you mean it's 1 am.

[staceymcgillicuddy]

Day 21: Hugs

@hellcheerxmas

December 1986 Hawkins, Indiana

“Dude, what the fuck?” 

Eddie slams his locker shut, nearly clamping Gareth’s nose inside. Which is as much as the little shit deserves for sticking it firmly where it doesn’t belong.

“Don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says as he leans against the metal door, aiming for nonchalance. 

“There was a bear.” 

“Fuck off, go to class.” 

“It had a hat—”

“Go to class,” he hisses, and the Dungeon Master voice doesn’t work on Gareth anymore, but Eddie likes to think he projects a modicum of authority. Sometimes. Maybe. 

“Whatever, Eddie.” Gareth snickers and hoists his backpack onto his shoulder. “Good luck with that.” 

Eddie watches him go. Waits until the hallway clears out and the bell rings (so he’s skipping English; he knows how to read) before he opens his locker again.

Sitting on the top shelf is, indeed, a bear. And not just any bear. A polar bear. A polar bear wearing a red Santa hat and a green vest with bells all over it, and one of its feet has a sticker that says squeeze me. 

He's no fool—he ain’t squeezing shit—but he does pull out the crisp white envelope that’s been neatly placed in the bear’s lap. 

Dear Eddie, 

This is Mr. Hugs. He loves you. Merry Christmas.

Best wishes, Mrs. Claus

P.S. This is revenge

He sighs. Grabs the jingling bear and tries to muffle it against his jacket because he can’t leave it in his locker and he can’t throw it in the trash, so his only option is to get it to the van without anyone seeing. 

Which might have worked if not for the fact that he runs into Lucas Sinclair holding a hall pass when he’s halfway to the back door. 

“Hey, Sinclair,” he says like he’s not holding a giant Christmas teddy bear to his chest. 

“Hey, Eddie.” Lucas, a nice kid, is trying not to smirk. “What’s uh… that?” 

“Oh, this? This is Mr. Hugs.” Because what else the fuck is he going to say?

“Uh-huh.” 

“It’s not what it looks like.” 

“It doesn’t look like anything.” 

“Right. What are the chances of you not telling Henderson about this?” 

Lucas considers his options, then shrugs. “My mouth stays shut if you let my sister start coming to Hellfire next semester.” 

Eddie groans. “I told you, man. It’s not a babysitting service.” 

A shrug and Lucas folds his arms. Eddie inadvertently squeezes the bear a bit tighter, which is when a tinny, mechanical voice spouts, “Ho-ho-haaaaappy holidays from Mr. Hugs!”

Lucas can’t keep from snorting. Eddie grits his teeth. “Fine. But she’d better come prepared,” he says before sprinting for the exit.

Luckily, he doesn’t run into anyone else between Sinclair and the parking lot, where his van waits like some sacred oasis. 

Chrissy’s sitting in the back when he gets there, painting her nails and flipping through a magazine like she’s not an evil little Christmas imp. She has a free period when he has English, and she says being in the van beats study hall, so he gave her his extra key. 

“Dude,” he says when he sees her, and she looks up all beatific, batting those big, baby blues. “I have a reputation.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” 

He launches Mr. Hugs against the back of the passenger seat. The bear drops to the floor with a squealed “Meeeeeeerry Christmas!”

She lifts her hand to her mouth and blows on her nails, then shrugs. “I think he’s cute.” 

“You think he’s—” 

“Maybe think twice before insulting Boy George next time, Munson.”

Eddie frowns, because when did he even do that? Except, yeah, last weekend. Rick’s place. Chrissy and Rick wanted to listen to Colour By Numbers, and Eddie’d been… like, maybe more of a dick about that than the situation warranted. But still!

“That’s disproportionate, Cunningham!”

Another shrug, but she’s tamping down a giggle.

“Whatever. You’re such a fucking freak.”

Chrissy doesn’t disagree, and he spends the rest of her free period doing his best not to smudge her nail polish.

[strandedcrow]

oh my god thank you so much. i'll probably have to watch the video a couple more times so the information sticks in my head but i finally understand a sense of when everything takes place and what exactly happened. i had no idea you play as a same single character through out almost all the games, never mind that it was the son of the guy killing everyone. can i ask why you think its william afton youre playing as in custom night?

yesss the dynamic between michael and william is genuinely one of my favorite protagonist vs antagonist dynamics in general, the games really do such a good job emphasizing the similarities and differences between the characters. in the games, michael has his father’s british accent, and is implied to look very similar to him (with michael stating that circus baby, possessed by his own little sister, mistook michael for william in sister location). but it also nails their complete opposite personalities so well to me, with their opposing responses to committing child murder (william deciding to murder more children while michael eventually attempts to free the souls of william’s victims following his own death). and one thing that’s not really a detail, but also not really overtly compared, is in william ending up as a corpse stuffed into a suit, while michael ends up as a corpse that had an endoskeleton stuffed into him, which isn’t necessarily some huge breakthrough in the existence of metaphors but i really love it lol

and now a cut off to spare the dash, william theorizing below :]

UCN itself doesn’t actually have a plot (aside from gags and easter eggs), but it does have a few voice lines (given by animatronics after they jumpscare you) that can be taken into account if you want to figure out who you’re playing as!

quick aside though, just because it’s interesting, one of these voicelines in UCN is also why susie being the first victim is essentially confirmed: (withered) chica, who we know to be possessed by her, has a voice line of “I was the first, I have seen everything.” (her voicelines also sound as if they’re coming through a spirit box which is a neat detail)

anyway the first, immediate assumption that can be made in determining who you are playing as in UCN is because the ghosts directly state that you, the player, have killed at least one of the children (the voicelines are listed below). this nails possibilities down right off the bat to you playing as either william or michael, as they are the only two characters in the games who have killed at least one child.

with that in mind, pretty much all theorizing in this game draws from a handful of voicelines which you may get upon being jumpscared by specific animatronics:

ones who say they are friends of “the one you should not have killed”:

Withered Chica: “I have seen him, the one you shouldn’t have killed.”

Jack-o-Chica: “Greetings from the fire, and friend of what you should not have killed.”

Withered Bonnie: “Time to face the consequences of your failure,” and “What is this new prison? Is it me trapped, or is it you? Perhaps, it’s us both.”

Mangle: “He’s here, and always watching, the one you shouldn’t have killed.”

“the one you should not have killed” speaking through multiple animatronics:

Happy Frog: “We’ve only just begun. I will never let you leave. I will never let you rest.”

Nedd Bear: “This is how it feels, and you get to experience it over, and over, and over again, forever. I will never let you leave.”

Orville Elephant: “He tried to release you. He tried to release us. But I’m not gonna let that happen.” “I will hold you here. I will keep you here. No matter how many times they burn us.”

the emilys and aftons:

charlie through the puppet: “I recognize you. But I am not afraid of you… not anymore,” and through nightmarionne “This time, death cannot save you.”

elizabeth through circus baby and the later design called scrap baby has lines as well, however they are more consistent with the animatronic's personality than her own, likely because in previous games elizabeth seemed to be mostly unaware that she wasn’t actually circus baby

due to evan having been killed by fredbear, I believe that nightmare fredbear’s line “We know who our friends are, and you are not one of them.” comes from evan, however that’s more of an assumption than anything. more concretely, due to evan being told in the end of fnaf 4 that he would be remade, generally theorized by william, i also believe that he delivers nightmare freddy’s line “I am remade, but not by you, by the one you should not have killed.” which i think is one of the most important lines in discerning between playing as william or michael. if you had been playing as michael, then the only character that could possibly be counted as “the one you should not have killed” would have been evan, as he was the only one killed by michael. however in a single line, nightmare freddy implies: he is evan (“I am remade”), he is addressing william, who said he would remake him (“But not by you”), and he is not “the one you should not have killed” (“by the one you should not have killed.”)

the most common theory on the identity of the “one you should not have killed” lies in one of the original five children, cassidy, who was present as golden freddy in the earlier games. this child is generally viewed as being the angriest (sans maybe charlie) at william, and the most aggressive. part of this draws from an easter egg in UCN: one “animatronic” you can enable when playing is called old man consequences, and through him you can get to a secret area. this area is a pixelated lake where old man consequences is fishing, and you, now playing as a pixelated golden freddy, can talk to him. When you do, he invites you to sit with him as there’s “nowhere else to go”, and says “Leave the demon to his demons. Rest your own soul. There is nothing else.” the implications here being that golden freddy is the one soul that refuses to move on to the point of having to meet old man consequences. and the only person that cassidy hates enough to torment for eternity would be william, who killed cassidy and many other children, not michael who killed one child that wasn’t even cassidy.

there is a bit of a flaw in the theory though lol, in that william afton, as springtrap, is an animatronic in this game. his only voice line is his “I always come back” quote (honestly extremely funny given his gameplay function is that he tries to attack exactly one time in the night and then. doesn’t come back). given how this game isn’t considered canon and so the stakes are lower in terms of trying to be Correct, i like to interpret springtrap’s presence as being either the presence of the animatronic itself or william’s past haunting him, ghost of christmas past style but with a lot more murderous intent involved. (also from a meta standpoint obviously springtrap is gonna be in the big finale epilogue game, especially since he was the only actual animatronic in fnaf 3)

all of this said, though, there’s an animatronic named Mr. Hippo, whose voicelines are. a bit lengthy. he goes on tangents for about three minutes, telling the player one of four rambling stories, but those stories include lines like “I said ‘Orville, I have a story.’ And he said to me ‘What’s the significance of the story?’ and I said to him, ‘Orville, not every story has to have significance, y'know? Sometimes, y'know, sometimes a story is just a story. You try to read into every little thing and find meaning in everything anyone says, you’ll drive yourself crazy.’” and “So you may be asking yourself, ‘How did I go from sitting by the falls drinking lemonade, to being wedged in the air duct? Not only with Orville, but with an entire assortment of fruity colored friends.’ Well there’s uh, there’s really no good answer to that, but perhaps I’ve met a demise of my own at some point, and this is my afterlife or my dream, whatever it might be, I honestly don’t know. Or maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all. Maybe it doesn’t mean anything at all.”

so yknow. take any theorizing of this game with a grain of salt lol

[xxmia0wm4yh3mxx]

Hey guizzz iz me!! imad sum backrooms ocz so here *gives*

(also these are just lazy doodles)

i love these two frickin idiots❤️ ok but like some backstory:

after a partygoer/partypooper meeting two attendees were transported to level 0 and it took about the frontrooms equivalent of 2 months of smilers, hounds, violent wanderers, skin givers and stealers, to get back to their own levels, but they kinda ended up becoming unlikely friends or "truceies" as funny calls it they try to ignore their obvious friendship

or maybe..?

but even though their as different as can be, they still remain on good terms! (or more like enemies and friends)

despite partygoers usually being super smart, cuppycake is eeeeeeeeeh lesser in intellect, their clumsy, forgetful and just kinda of an idiot in the partygoer's eyes and sometimes even foregets their suppose to kill wanderers

They also like to check into the after party level to check on the capybaras!

Suger Hearts is the main baker in Level Fun, their sweet, but super sadistic

they dont usually exit level fun, but when they do, they'll trick humans into thinking they're nice and feed them human cakes, and kill them hansel and gretel style (if that makes sense) but to the partygoers they're a like a sweet grandma

they also have a sibling relationship :3

Nell Nocliped into the Backrooms with her dad when she was 9, despite her father being completely unexerienced and confused as his daughter was, she still clinged being a scared nine year old girl,

which made his death so much more traumatizing, after that she was found by a young M.E.G researcher you was born in the backroom named Axel, after the years Nell became a top-notch fighter and explorer, but has a distant and cold attitude towards other wanderers because of her father, well expect for Axel, they even work together were Nell fights and Axel studies

but after they tried to study the Gameing halls together Axel didn't Noclip back, so shes trying to get back to the gaming halls to get her adoptive brother back

which was going good until someone notso partygoer and notso partypooper decides to be friends

Entity

Number : 67.8

Habitat: Room #170

Description:

Entity Number 67.8 or "Lucky the PartyCrasher" is a Entity that resides on Room #170 on Level 52 were the PartyPooper used to Reside were they put up ballons, confetti, gift bags, and games. They have a undying Hatered for Partygoers, thus writing on the chalkboard in the board room "THE WAR WILL NEVER BE OVER =|"

Behaviors:

Lucky has been known to be Friendly but very hyper, and over the top, and somewhat anxiety inducing, but overall helpful and somewhat sweet at times Lucky has also been known to have a sadistic sense of humor, and will happily kill anyone their guests dont like, and will take threats and insults as jokes, but will surprisingly will not kill anyone you harms them, and will just sends them to a dangerous level.

When wanderers enter the halls on Level 52 they may find a trail of signs that states

"COME AND HAVE A BLAST! =|"

Many run from this thinking its a Partygoer's trap, but those that do, you'll be startled by Lucky draging you by the hand into Room #170 and be greeted by Lucky handing you a gift bag with, a slinky, bouncey ball, plastic rings, almond water, neon Water, candy found in the frontrooms, sticky hand, and bandages, and warm yellow lucky o milk, which is always Luck falvored

when trying to leave you'll be grabbed by the neck with Lucky saying

"You can't leave yet silly! we still have to bake your cake and play games! :|" when asked to play games, they will excited pull out something like the corpse of a partygoer stuffed with frontrooms Candy held put like a pinyata, and handed a bloody baseball bat with nails sticking out and asked to "Get revenge on those nasty Fun Ruiners!" if you refuse they'll ask you to hold up the corspe, but be careful because Lucky will start swinging the bat blindfolded, after the games, Lucky will ask you to help them "bake your birthday cake" after singing your birthday song, you can leave, Leaving Lucky sad put understanding.

Lucky as been known to hunt Partygoers with a giant crimson sword and ruin their party's and as never lost a battle between them, or anyone else, making some people to believe that they have a relationship with the Crimson Wanderer.

Biology:

Entity 67.8 sports a long sleeved striped pastel Pink and purple hoodie and green pants with yellow four leaf clover patterens all over and a matching party hat, they have a green bag covering their face with holes for eyes with red tear like markings down their face, their skin and face is completely unknown, though their hands have been described as simalir to a partygoers, but other wanderers state that they have gloves hands similar to a PartyPooper's, they wear purple rollers blades for supposed stamina boost, they refuse to take off their bag and hoodie, while hunting or wandering they wear a green mask with a neutral expression

Discovery:

Lucky was discovered by a M.E.G Researcher under the Code name "DRAKO" who was supposed to have an interview with Mr. Freeman, but was cut off when they got distracted by a sign saying "FUN HERE! :|" and being pulled into "The Birthday Room" below is the conversation between Drako and Lucky.

_________________________________________

Interview Log 08/17/2021

Interviewer: M.E.G Researcher Code name: Drako

Interviewee: Lucky the PartyCrasher

_________________________________________

Drako: Who are you? Where am I?

Lucky: Your at your Birthday Silly!

Drako: What!? Get me Out!

he starts running frantically to the locked door

Lucky: Awww Thats Such a Shame! We were Just about to start baking your Cake!

Drako: I have a gun! so dont you-

he noticed how his emergency gun has been replaced by a Banana as Lucky giggles uncontrollably

Lucky: C'mon open your presents!

They hand him a gift bag

Drako: alright..?

Drako: Sticky hand.. Gumballs.. Neon Water...

Lucky: See! Im not Like those Other party Ruiners! im Actually fun! and not a Loser!

Drako: umm alright?

Lucky: C'mon have a Seat!

37ish minutes of silence

Drako: so... Your a Partygoer?

Lucky: of course Not! im not one of those Fun Ruining Losers! Im Nothing like them!

NOTHING.

Drako: Alright! Alright! Jeez!

37ish more minutes of silence

Drako: So... your a PartyPooper?

They slammed their fist on the small plastic table

Drako: Okay Jeez! Sorry!

Lucky: ...well I mean I dont have anything AGAINST them.. its just They have those Flithy FunRuiners on their plate and they WONT. TAKE. A. BITE.

they slam their fists again breaking the table.

Lucky: See! look what they did! but enough of that! lets play a game!

they go into a closet and pull out a corpse of a partygoer with holes in its torso and a red light smashed into its head

While Drako and Lucky were playing a morbid game of operation, he noticed the crimson sword

Drako: Nice sword you got there

Lucky: hm?

Drako: where'd you get it?

Lucky: Oh that old thing? just a gift from a good friend!

As Drako removed the last piece Lucky fling the corpse across the room

Lucky: Hurray you won! now time for cake!

Lucky: Whats your favorite flavor? Chocolate, Vanilla, Almond, FunRuiner-

Drako: FunRuiner?-

Lucky: FunRuiner it is!

Drako: Wait No-

It was to late, they were already adding partygoer flesh into the batter

after the party Lucky brought Him back into The M.E.G Base and gave them a awkwardly long hug.

unfortunately Drako got explosive diarrhea from the cake

_________________________________________

(okay im might get into some of Luckys backstory) Audrey was forced into a noclip area by her older brother with no knowledge of the Backrooms, were she was saved from a smiler by a Partygoer named Happy-Go-Lucky so they could manipulate her into going to level fun were they told her she could take her home, but accidentally become very close friends instead and even considered her "fun".

after a the overused liar reveal troupe Audrey went to Level fun herself, and after trying to save her, they were served a slice of cake with a piece of emerald green eye as a cherry.

after that their skin began to change, their skin began to fall of after refusing to kill any wanderers every again, but not resisting the loud and chaotic part of them that Audrey grew to love, making the skin grow back and fall off again, swearing to kill all the partygoers or "FunRuiners" they became the PartyCrasher.

[natehoodreviews]

Best Films of 2022

As some of you might have noticed, I didn’t publish many pieces or read many fiction books this past year. The reason for that was that 2022 was a particularly busy year for me in terms of schoolwork and regular old work, specifically my first unit of CPE residency to become a hospital chaplain. Still, though, I did manage to see around 50 movies released this past year. Here are my picks for the best of them.

15)  Armageddon Time – Dir. James Gray

If I had a nickel for every Jewish-American cinematic Künstlerroman released in 2022, I’d have two nickels, which isn’t a lot but it’s weird that it’s happened twice. Jokes aside, Armageddon Time is a fantastic coming-of-age story, and the specter of Anthony Hopkins really helps keep its head above the water of becoming excessively maudlin. In the hands of a lesser filmmaker, this material could've come across as excessively preachy, but Gray nails the correct tone for making it hit like a sledgehammer. That said, somehow in all the time before watching this movie I'd managed to avoid the news that the Trumps were in it. When I tell you that I felt ice water in my gut when they first appeared, I mean I felt like I cannonballed into the Arctic Ocean. I've said it before, but one of the most obnoxious things about Trump is that he's going to become as ubiquitous in future media as a metonym for everything that's corrupt and evil in the USA as Lincoln is for all that's good and noble. I just want Trump to GO AWAY.

14)  Beavis and Butt-Head Do the Universe – Dirs. John Rice and Albert Calleros

I cannot believe that this ended up being one of my favorite movies of the year. It begins with one of the cinema’s greatest nut-shots and only gets funnier. A bacchanalia of juvenile stupidity.

13)  Nope – Dir. Jordan Peele 

We as a society need to do whatever it takes to keep Jordan Peele making his intensely unique, intensely bizarre flights of cinematic fancy. This damn thing was a slow-burn horror film, a heist movie, a thriller, and a creature feature rolled into one.

12)  Top Gun: Maverick – Dir. Joseph Kosinski

The best male weepy since ONLY THE BRAVE (2017). Light years better than it had any right to be, and not really as toxic as I expected. Some of the most fun I’ve had in a movie theater all year. Not the MOST fun, but it’s definitely way, WAY up there.

11)  32 Sounds – Dir. Sam Green

I've been a fan of Sam Green and JD Samson after seeing one of their Live Cinema shows at the Brooklyn Academy of Music several years ago. I am thrilled to report that Green's new film 32 SOUNDS is probably the best translation of their specifically mind-blowing, tender, and intimate live performances that we'll ever get. With only 32 sounds, Green captures a kaleidoscope of the human experience in ways at once amusing yet profound, devastating yet hopeful.

10)  The Batman – Dir. Matt Reeves

“I don't know if that was the BEST Batman movie, but it was definitely the MOST Batman movie. That said, it was refreshing to see a Batman film that remembers that he's a world-class detective. I have issues with this film, but almost all of them fall away when I think about how we finally got a superhero film that truly, deeply cares as much about images as it does the characters and stories. The Batmobile emerging from a wall of fire, muzzle flashes illuminating dark hallways like bolts of lightning, Batman leading a spiderweb of survivors through floodwaters while holding aloft a flare���these are IMAGES that are going to stick with me for a long time. Also, that opening sequence of petty criminals getting scared by the sight of the Bat-Signals leading up to Batman emerging from the subway tunnel... #chefskiss“”

[Full review at http://www.unseenfilms.net/2022/03/nate-hood-on-batman.html]

9)  The Fabelmans – Dir. Steven Spielberg

An extraordinary work of compassion, contrition, and grace. So much more than an autobiography—it's a Rosetta Stone for one of the cinema's greatest artists. I am have no idea how Spielberg and Kushner can explore feelings and emotions of such byzantine complexity while making it seem so effortless and natural. Pure wizardry.

8)  Elvis – Dir. Baz Luhrmann

The first half is pitch-perfect rhinestone gaudiness and the second half almost Shakespearean tragedy. It's equal parts pathos and bathos, wrapped in silk and slicked with pomade. Baz Luhrmann has been preparing his entire career for this one movie and it shows. I'm honestly mystified by people dunking on Tom Hanks' performance. Was it an accurate depiction of Colonel Tom Parker? Probably not, but Hanks created perhaps the greatest ghoul in popular American cinema since J. K. Simmons' Terence Fletcher. And finally, the early sequence juxtaposing a young Elvis spying on a blues joint and attending a gospel revival ranks up there Bheem attacking the British gala with his animal friends in RRR and the opening scene from THE BATMAN as my favorite so far of 2022.

7)  The Banshees of Inisherin – Dir. Martin McDonagh

This one absolutely gutted me. I spent the last forty minutes of that film scarcely breathing because I kept waiting for The Bad Thing to happen after the banshee made her prophecy. Also, this film was like watching an autistic person's worst nightmare made real. I'm serious. You want to know the one thing an autistic person fears the most? The people they love suddenly deciding one day for no apparent reason that they just don't like you anymore.

6)  RRR – Dir. S. S. Rajamouli

“After years of Hollywood franchise glut—of reboots and remakes, spin-off miniseries and bloated two-part finales—watching S. S. Rajamouli’s Telugu-language epic RRR is like taking that first breath of outside air after being cooped up all day in an office building with no air conditioning. It’s like taking a long, cool sip of ice water after days in the desert with nothing to drink but lukewarm Diet Coke. It’s like being reminded for the first time since you were a child amazed by the moving pictures on the television that movies can truly do anything, say anything, and be anything. It’s not just the most triumphant, crowd-pleasing blockbuster in years, it’s the best, most exhilarating action movie from any country since George Miller’s Mad Max: Fury Road (2015).”

[Full review at: http://www.unseenfilms.net/2022/06/nate-hood-on-epic-masterpiece-rrr-2022.html]

5)  ACTION BUTTON REVIEWS: Boku no Natsuyasumi – Dir. Tim Rogers (YouTube: Action Button)

The Ross McElwee/Lester Bangs of video game journalism returns with another 6+ hour opus on a video game most gamers outside of Japan may never have heard of before. Somehow, it’s his best yet. An exhaustive yet somehow never exhausting autobiographical examination of nostalgia, loss, and memory, Tim Rogers somehow finds in the act of playing a video game about a young boy’s summer vacation in the Japanese countryside a simulacrum for the universal human experience.

4)  We Met in Virtual Reality – Dir. Joe Hunting

Talk about a dark horse pick for one of the best movies of 2022. I've said it before and I'll say it again: my favorite kind of art is the art that makes me feel more human. WE MET IN VIRTUAL REALITY is a stunningly moving and sincere look at how humans have begun creating social ecosystems in virtual spaces. It would've been so easy for director Joe Hunting to play the things he found for laughs—and in fairness, it's easy to chortle at the idea of an anime couple proposing to each other after meeting in an exotic dancing class or a group of furry avatars talking about their sexual orientations around a campfire—but he looks for the human beneath and within his subjects.

3)  Mad God – Dir. Phil Tippett

A Voynich Manuscript of stop-motion blasphemies; a compendium of Švankmajer nightmares and H.R. Giger fever dreams. Hieronymus Bosch wept. If your reaction to this movie was that it didn't have enough plot, I hate you. If anything it had TOO MUCH plot. Don't be fooled by the stop-motion animation��there's more Stan Brakhage in this film's DNA than Hieronymus Bosch. I can say with no exaggeration that this film was one of the most overwhelming aesthetic experiences I've ever had in a movie theater. I could feel myself frozen to the seat for its entire runtime.

2)  Everything Everywhere All At Once – Dir. Daniel Kwan and Daniel Scheinert

As a film critic, I've seen literally thousands of movies. But only a handful have ever given me an experience close to approximating Stendhal syndrome. I can say with some certainty that EVERYTHING EVERYWHERE ALL AT ONCE is the only one to involve a sex toy kung fu fight.

1)  Glass Onion – Dir. Rian Johnson

GLASS ONION left me in a near-constant state of shock and disbelief for its last hour. I have no idea how Rian Johnson was able to outdo KNIVES OUT, but here we are. It's smarter, funnier, nastier, and proves that the first film's populist overtones were no fluke. That it wrapped BEFORE Musk bought twitter is one of the greatest acts of cinematic prognostication maybe ever? But it's so much more than just a furious defenestration of billionaire tech bros, it's another condemnation on how the uber-rich close ranks to protect their own. That whole scene where Miles' "friends" joined in Janelle Monáe's destructive rampage—but only for a little bit!—is such a powerful statement on how celebrities will performatively ape leftist politics in between private jet flights to cross union picket lines. But my favorite part of the film was watching it with my mother. She originally had no interest in it when I chose it (it was my turn to pick the movie!). I LOVED watching it cast the same spell on her that it did on me until by the end she was LITERALLY on her feet cheering! I'm sorry, but I don't know how you could look at Rian Johnson's last three films and NOT consider him one of the best filmmakers working today. I don't know if any director since the heyday of Spielberg has more perfectly mastered the art of the crowd-pleasing genre film. THE LAST JEDI then KNIVES OUT then GLASS ONION back-to-back-to-back? Ladies and gentlemen, THAT is a friggin' cinematic pedigree.

[nickymortis]

Resurrecting Fear: Alone in the Dark Returns to its Roots

The first Alone in the Dark game from '92 is basically the OG of survival horror, laying the groundwork for series like Resident Evil and Silent Hill, which is why enthusiasts often seek out platforms to buy Xbox games. While those two blew up big-time, Alone in the Dark kinda fizzled out by the early 2000s. The spin-offs dropped in '08 and '15 pretty much sealed its fate. But in 2018, THQ Nordic swooped in, snagged the rights, and announced they're rebooting the OG game. They're aiming to bring it back to its roots while giving it a modern makeover. We got to test out the PS5 version early, and it's clear: there's a ton of legacy to live up to, but the competition in the genre has leveled up big time, especially in the action department.

Evolving Darkness: A Contemporary Twist on the Classic Tale

Alone in the Dark kicks off with a spooky car ride through the swamps of the American Southwest, where we meet Emily Hartwood and Edward Carnby, embarking on a journey that has sparked interest in platforms offering options to buy PS5 games. Carnby's a private eye hired by Emily to find her missing uncle Jeremy, who's chilling at the Derceto Manor sanatorium, far off the grid. Once you're there, you gotta pick which of these two you're rolling with for the whole game. Emily and Carnby each see the story unfold differently in some scenes, so it's worth running it back a few times to catch it all. You can only get those alternative endings after you've seen the "normal" one with both characters. Alone in the Dark sticks to the '92 original's vibe but puts its own spin on things instead of just rehashing the plot. You don't need to know anything about the ancient debut to dive right in.

Mysteries of Derceto Manor: Navigating Haunted Hallways

No matter which main character you pick, Alone in the Dark spins a gripping detective tale with supernatural twists. It's set in 1920s Southern USA, dripping with period costumes, decor, and a jazz-heavy soundtrack. The devs roped in real Hollywood heavyweights for Emily and Carnby. Jodie Comer (Killing Eve, Free Guy) nails the brave Emily, while David Harbour (Stranger Things) brings grumpy detective Carnby to life. They add serious personality to the main duo, with the original English voices shining a bit brighter, but the German dub ain't too shabby either. Even the side characters hold their own, like the perpetually griping housekeeper, the shady director, and the artsy celeb. They unfold through cinematic cutscenes, leaving you mostly to your own devices in between. Derceto Manor steals the spotlight as the main haunt. You navigate this eerie sanatorium in third-person, starting with lots of locked doors and blocked paths. To move forward, you'll snag clues and crack environmental puzzles like a pro.

Combat Frustrations: Navigating Survival in 'Alone in the Dark'

In Alone in the Dark, you've got three difficulty levels to choose from. The higher ones amp up monster toughness and cut back on gear. But since the combat's the weakest link, it just ends up being frustrating. You can opt in for puzzle hints too. Characters drop lines like "I've seen this before," and key details are highlighted in docs. Sometimes, it makes things too easy, but at least you won't wander clueless for ages. It's cool that you can pick which hints to use. The monsters hunting you are mostly cut from the same cloth. There's a handful of types—zombie dudes of different sizes, leeches, and these demon bat things. They all kinda move the same and go down quick. The only thing giving you a rush is the clunky controls. You can sneak around, but it just drags out the annoying parts without any real perks besides saving ammo.

A Call for Focus on Core Strengths

They really went all in! I kept wondering if the action parts were even needed like this. Personally, Alone in the Dark would be way better without them, more like those newer Sherlock Holmes games or Call of Cthulhu. If THQ Nordic wants to keep the series going, they gotta think hard about sticking with this formula or focusing on what it's really good at.

[sunlessea]

thankful is he that the zubmarine under his captain is so luxuriously large : it would do to put some space between them, when he can. unimpressed as he may be with his company, he expresses it rather clearly through roll of his eyes, annoyed but eager to move on. he, at least, seems to be coming to terms with his position. where it up to winter himself, he'd be so very pleased not to have to deal with him at all. alas! out to zee with his one-sided, undesired rival it would be. good thing his narcissistic little head stayed attached to his shoulders, no matter the context. his smile, to say the least, is bitter.

"la plus belle, mon amour," he drawls scathingly, only the barest hint of his southern accent slipping into the affectionate admonishment, but the ice behind his eyes is sharp. "let them print about your unflinching order, then. i'd personally love to see london's reaction to the nasty little roach that lives under your skin. i wonder, then, just how many of your suitors will stick around to woo you? likely more than i think, to be sure. london does so love it's filth and grime." he clicks his tongue, so jagged and cutting is its edge. pleasantries fallen from him, he is quite the rude fellow, indeed, but this is nothing anyone on the surface would have been shocked by. the prince of london's camarilla, even, is not known for his kindness as he hunts their people down with bat and nail. the gentle reprimanding he affords silas, then, is only so far as this trip will allow him : he is true to his word, as he braces himself. he can't let him die on this voyage, remiss as he is to miss the change to throw him into the zee himself.

he reaches out, and his hands are harsh for that of an artist's : but still, he clears silas's eyes of tears, disappointed. "pourquoi voudriez-vous jamais me renier, en effet? we do so love each other, you and i." sarcasm drips from his ire, but he sighs, waves it off with an agitated flick of his wrist. "oh, you will burden me and quite often, i suspect. but what-the-fuck-ever. i do what i must to keep myself from rotting at the bottom of the ocean next to your corpse. imagine, eternity trapped together. disgusting." he, unlike him, is confident, as he turns his attention to the lengthy zubmarine surfaced at the dock before them. the entryway is hardly frightening, not to him, but he supposes he stands at silas's worst nightmare. well. first steps and all that. he hoists himself up to its side door, then grabs hold of the frame and leans backwards to help him up too, arm outstretched for him to take. his smile, as if it had never soured, has regained its brilliant flair. "before you ever have opportunity to wilt under me, silly boy, you'll have to make it up to me. come, petit ami, it's not so bad as you fear."

it is just as embarrassing having to bow and bury his head against him, he's certain, as it is to witness it. in all his little honesty, he can't picture a scene sadder than this : brought low by his own humanity; weakness so oft avoidable but brought to surface by both he most dreaded. what he wouldn't give to be anywhere other! if he could afford more bitter words for mr. plagues themselves, he'd spend every saved echo to ensure they heard every second he was left to suffer for their sake, indebted where he once swore he'd never be. this is miserable, and he is almost certain the coming weeks—or gods forbid, months—will be too. that is, at least, until he hears his praises.

( and they are praises, no matter how shrouded in insult. its the thought that counts. )

" you think i'm pretty? " bless his accursed vanity—for all it's worth, being the only thing he seemed keen to pay attention to, enough so it draws his attention up : away from the water, however momentarily, to his fiercer gaze instead. though his tone of voice does little to suggest whether he takes it as insult or genuine compliment, with how it raises in question, then complaint, expression souring and eyes wet despite himself: " our doctor most gracious should have known better! they seek to torture us—don't they always, i'd almost be willing to let them print my secrets in the morning paper had i only the knowledge of which they posted. it'd be better than—! " something creaks, or crashes—and he doesn't know what, doesn't care to; it is enough to make him near jump out of his skin the moment winter himself pries free. space that's put far too long between them, the speed in which he stumbles forward, near-desperate, grasping for whatever he would let him take.

he might be tearing up, just a little—by the time winter grabs his jaw, so he cannot see the zee despite desire to know just what great terror he'd soon be stuck under indefinitely. this is humiliating. he's nearly shaking as if he's been drowned, when worst he's ever suffered is a baptism. at least then, the water was holy. he's heard enough stories to keep his fears well warranted; and even in matter of influence, had relic or rite but placed off london's shores he ensured there would never be need for himself to be at the docks when they parted, and if they returned : between drowned and the divine, he has heard enough. " i wouldn't— " call it coddling, he thinks. but if it's fear that leaves their lives at risk, there's no use then denying it. instead, he's left pouting, resigned and rejected; he almost looks something sorrowful. it'd be pathetic for anyone else, he isn't sure it still isn't, with the anxious racing of his heart. " ...i understand. i- " this, then, is perhaps where he feels most misplaced. his voice draws to murmur, though he cannot tell if it is his fear, his shame, or the pride he's being forced to swallow. against both their wills. " i ... appreciate the thought, cher. though loathe i'd be to burden you, i can't imagine a time i would ever deny you. " the sorry smile he offers is hardly reassurance, neither is his wit, but he's coping in all he knows how. " or the opportunity to be beneath you, whichever method you preferred in ensuring i think of nothing other. "

[eddie-sweetheart]

That Eddie scene in the field

But, instead of Dustin, it's you.

🌹 Masterlist 🌹

Gif originally posted by @hopemikelson

The spring sky seemed not to care of the perilous times that lay ahead. In spite of the final battle, which was clearly coming up way faster that anyone would have wanted, there were no clouds up in the clear blue that stood above Hawkins’ country fields. 

The sun heated the dusty ground and a chilly breeze rustled the glittering green grass, just like it would have done on any other normal late afternoon. But it wasn’t a normal afternoon, at all - and, as much as you all tried to forget it, pushing ominous thoughts in the back of your minds, everyone knew that way too well. 

With the stolen van hiding you from the main road, your whole group was busy creating weapons with everything you had collected at the War Zone. 

Robin and Steve, sitting right outside the van, were making Molotov bottles with dirty rags and fuel. Nancy and Max were working on the shotgun, cutting through its metal barrel to make it shorter and more efficient. Lucas and Erica, half bickering and half laughing, were creating makeshift spears with sticks, hunting knives and rope. 

Further ahead in the field, you, Eddie, and Dustin were putting together some spiky shields. You were rustling through a box of nails, finding the sharpest ones and passing them to the boys, who then hammered them into two round trashcan lids. You had been going at it for a good 30 minutes and now the first one was finally ready. 

“How’s she feeling?” Dustin asked Eddie, as the tall, long-haired boy grabbed the shield with one hand and threw it in the air. 

“Light, but durable” Eddie replied, studying the weapon against the sunlight, “deadly, but reliable”. 

You giggled at the description. Eddie caught a glimpse of you and smiled back, turning towards you with a solemn, theatrical look. 

“Hear me now” he began, lifting one arm up as if he was reciting Hamlet on a stage, “There will be no more retreating from Eddie the Banished”

You clapped your hands at his performance, a smile warming up your tired face. “I fully agree with that statement” you said, “it’s about time”. 

“Thank you, m’lady” he replied, bending in an exaggerated bow while carefully putting the shield down on the soft grass. 

“Hey, you’re really ready for battle” Dustin observed, giggling as both you and Eddie turned towards him, eyebrows narrowed in a quizzical expression. 

“You get it? Bat-tle. B-A-T. No?” the curly kid tried again, “I thought I had a good one”. 

Maybe it was the funny disappointment in Dustin’s eyes at his failed attempt at humour - or, maybe it was the accumulated tension, together with the need to enjoy something that wasn’t completely terrifying, but at that point you couldn’t hold it anymore, and you bursted out in a long laugh. Dustin immediately echoed you, holding his belly as he kept hysterically giggling. Eddie looked at both of you in disbelief, a grin beginning to appear on his lips.

“That was a nice one, Dustin” you finally said, drying up a tear with your finger once you managed to calm down, “and honestly if he’s going to kick those demobats' asses like he did back at the Lovers Lake portal, we might actually have a chance at not losing this thing”.

Eddie looked at you with eyebrows raised, arms crossed on his chest and a slightly tilted grin now completely occupying his face. “Are you making fun of me, princess?” He asked, taking a step closer to you. 

“Oh, not at all” you replied, your hands on your hips as you playfully took a step back, “it was actually pretty badass. Metal, I believe you would say”. 

He looked straight at you, head tilted to the side with a mischievous (and… soft?) expression in his eyes. After a few seconds of silence, he sprinted towards you, taking you by the waist with his arms and lifting you up. 

“What are you doiiiing?” You screamed in delight, hands grabbing the back of his leather jacket in order not to fall. “Eddie, let me go!” 

“As you wish, princess” he replied, almost letting you fall to the ground but to grabbing you back just in time. 

You pushed him away with a smile, pretending to be angry while you tried to catch your breath. “Oh, you’re going to pay for this, Munson”.

Now it was Eddie’s time to step back. 

“Okay, y/l/n” he said, as he spread his arms with a grin, the Hellfire logo now fully visible under his open leather jacket, “make me”. 

“Alright, time to leave” Dustin muttered to himself, as he started heading back to Lucas and Erica - who, just like everyone else, were poorly trying to hide their interest in the scene. 

You took one final breath before starting head-on towards Eddie, crashing into him and almost toppling him over as he scoffed in surprise. 

You two continued to fake fight all over each other for a few seconds, giggling like kids at the playground. Then, suddenly, Eddie firmly placed one hand behind your neck, holding you still inches away from his face without a word. 

“What?” you asked with half a smile, your heavy breathing matching Eddie’s as you mindlessly placed your hands on his chest. 

He looked at you straight into her eyes, deep brown mixing with the glowing shade of your irises, the light of his signature grin reaching up into his gaze. 

“Never change, y/n y/l/n” he finally said, moving a strand of your hair away from your blushing cheek and gently placing it behind your ear, his thumb lightly lingering on your skin. 

“Promise me?”

Your face softened and you felt a tiny lump forming in your throat, as a thousand different emotions stirred up in your chest. 

“I wasn’t planning on it” you replied, moving slowly towards him to close the distance between your bodies. 

He kept staring at you, his hands now trailing up to softly cup your face. “Good”, he said, his fond smile not letting any space for misunderstandings, not anymore. “Good, princess”. 

In the fractions of a second that preceded the kiss, it felt as time did you both the favour of stopping for a few moments. Everything around you was as still as a photograph, the upcoming battle was centuries away, and nothing else mattered. 

It didn’t matter that everyone was now watching you, it didn’t matter that you hadn’t taken a shower in days, it didn’t matter that your lives were so different - hell, it didn’t matter that you might all die later that day. Actually, as your faces leaned in towards each other before your lips and universes collapsed, both of you were sure that you were going to live forever. 

—

“After all this supernatural shit is over” Eddie said once you finally (and with a lot of difficulty) took a break from kissing, “I’m taking you out on a date”.

You giggled, wrapping your arms around his neck and lifting yourself up on your toes to peck the tip of his nose, causing him to smile brightly. “Why waiting?” you asked, coming back down, “let’s make this rendezvous in the Upside Down our first date”. 

Eddie gave it a thought, and nodded. “That would make it the most metal first date ever” he finally said, “I’m all in. Pick you up at the witching hour?”. 

“Sounds perfect to me” you whispered on his lips. 

“Okay, lovebirds, it’s time to go” Steve interrupted you, as he motioned for you to get back in the van. You and Eddie blushed and immediately went after him, dark thoughts clouding your minds once again now that reality had snapped back in. Halfway across the field, Eddie got closer to you and took your hand, squeezing it tight. 

“Oh, and next time get a room, please” Steve added once you got in the van, but as Eddie passed by him he firmly patted his back and winked at him in approval. 

[chyanxrene]

His obsession

♡ Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Y/N

♡ Summary: Draco has an Obsession with Y/N who has up until this time not given him the time of day, until she finally caves in at a Slytherin house party.

♡ Warning(s): Pure smut, hair pulling, choking, degradation if you squint

It was no secret Draco Malfoy was in love with Y/N Y/L/N, he would drool over her as soon as he laid his eyes on her. She was all he could think about. However the same couldn't be said for Y/N, despite Draco's numerous attempts to get the Slytherin princess to fall in love with him, nothing worked.

In Y/N's mind, he was just another player, who only wanted one thing from her. Why would she give him the time of day when she's witnessed him with a new girl everyday? Sure she found him attractive, but then again who didn't.

Draco never gave up, he'd send her flowers, chocolates he even wrote hand written notes to the young witch, some asking about her day others begging for a chance. But she didn't budge, she'd just shake her head, laugh or consume the edible gifts he gave her with her friends.

His friends told him to get over it, it was becoming comical the amount of times he had been rejected, but he didn't care. Her boldness, cunningness, sense of humour was everything he wanted in a woman. Draco Malfoy liked a chase and he would not give up without a fight.

Y/N rolled her eyes when she sighted the ice blonde strolling down the stairs with an unknown Ravenclaw witch. This was the second girl she had seen this week and it was only Tuesday. She never understood why he continued to have relations with all these other girls when he desperately tried to pursue her. Perhaps it was his way of making her jealous, but it only made her resent him more.

The poor Ravenclaw witch left, batting her eyelashes at Draco. Everyone knew he would never see her again, but she didn't, which made Y/N feel sorry for her.

Y/N smelt him before she saw him.

"You coming to the party tonight darling?"Draco sat down next to Y/N, interrupting her thoughts.

She closed her book "are you going to be there?" She asked Draco who was flickering his gaze from her lips to her eyes. He licked his bottom lip and nodded eagerly.

"Then no."

Y/N stood up and walked out of the common room. Draco was left utterly confused, did she not like the roses he had left her?

"Come on Malfoy, give it up, she not interested" Blaise Zabini joined his friend in the seating area.

"I don't get it, why can't she give me a chance?" Malfoy huffed, confused at his latest rejection.

Blaise let out a loud laugh, holding his stomach  as he watched Draco.

"What?"

"You seriously don't know?"

Blaise then dropped his face realising his best friend really didn't understand what he was doing so wrong.

"Malfoy, you fuck a different girl every other day, Y/N sees all of it, why the hell would she want to date someone like that" he laughed.

Draco's face went into a scowl, his tactics clearly weren't working.

"I thought that would've made her jealous."

"Jealous? Crabbe has more of a chance dating her than you" Blaise cackled.

Draco stood up, stomping to his room. There was no feelings involved with the other girls, just a quick fuck, he would only think of Y/N whilst he done it anyway. But she didn't know that, so he would try again, tonight.

Y/N had left the common room only to be shoved into a wall by Hufflepuff who was crying her eyes out, running down the hall. At first she was angry but once she realised the witch from the year below was distressed she couldn't help but feel bad.

"What's wrong?" Y/N asked, rubbing the witches back.

The poor girl couldn't speak, she was stuttering all over the place, but one name made Y/N's hairs stand up Draco.

"W-we had sex and now he's with someone else."

Y/N consoled the younger witch and promised her she would deal with it.

Draco was wide eyed when he saw Y/N storm into his room. Red with anger, she threw her books onto his bed. Her hand was raised, ready to add some colour onto the pale boys skin, but she was too slow, he caught her wrist mid air and pushed her hand to her chest. Backing her against the wall.

"I've dreamed of moments like this, however in them you weren't trying to hit me" Draco drawled, his nose ran through Y/N's hair, inhaling the scent he loved so bad.

"You're a bastard" Y/N gritted, shoving Draco off her. "Don't fucking touch me!"

Draco's eyebrows furrowed "what's the problem darling?" He asked the girl he admired the most.

"You need to stop messing with these girls Draco, they're all distraught after being with you" Y/N growled.

Draco let out a small laugh.

"And you don't think I am? The girl I want the most can't even give me the time of day" he shouted back.

Y/N's mouth closed abruptly, she would not give in to him. "There's a reason for that, you're just a lad, someone who just wants to get there dick wet!"

Draco's frown turned into a smirk "I've only ever wanted you to wet my cock."

Y/N's breath hitched in her throat. Numerous conversations with Draco and he'd never used such vulgar words towards her.

Draco noticed this and a light bulb turned on in his head, maybe this could be his new approach, he was a master at dirty talk. He could easily make a girl cum by just his words alone — which he has done before.

He was slightly surprised that this is what Y/N liked, this only made him want her more, if that was even possible.

"You like that don't you?" Draco purred.

He stepped towards her again, a light pink shade painted on her cheeks.

"Stop Draco."

Y/N's hand went to reach the door knob behind her but Draco's cold hands stopped her.

His warm breath on her ear, he'd never had her in this position before "do you like when I talk to you like that?" He whispered.

A small whimper came from her throat.

"You filthy girl."

"Fuck, I could do so many things to you" Draco's knee pushed in between her legs, spreading them apart.

Y/N's breathing was heavy, she felt herself becoming wet, her underwear sticking to her pussy. She had to stay strong, she would not give him the satisfaction.

"I'd make you cum so hard, everyday" Draco breathed. "Fuck, I'd ruin you for every other man, stretch you so wide that you would be accustomed to my cock only" he growled.

"Shit."

She felt Draco's thigh coming in direct contact with her clothed clit.

"Let me make you mine Y/N, I want nothing more than to pleasure you and make you happy" Draco left a small kiss on Y/N's ear.

A knock came from behind them, bringing Y/N back to reality, she pushed him off her and swung the door open. Outside was another girl, she looked between them both, Y/N scoffed and walked out of his room. Draco was left in awe and a boner, which the unknown girl would be made to satisfy.

Later that night the party had come around Y/N wore her tight fitted forest green mini dress. It had a low back and a small slit on the upper thigh, she wore some black strappy heels to match with her outfit.

Whistles and cat calls were made as she walked into her houses party.

Y/N joined her fellow Slytherins, she was always down for a good time. Drinking, dancing and having fun in general.

She was known to be quite popular, she's what boys wanted and what girls wanted to be. That's one of many reasons why Draco was so infatuated with her.

She hadn't seen the Slytherin Prince yet, but Y/N knew he would be around. Probably with a different girl linked onto his arm.

Y/N found herself thinking about this afternoons conversation with him, she wanted more, but in the same breath she despised his actions.

She shook her head, maybe she was more than attracted to him but she didn't want to admit it. There was times when she would wonder how good he was in bed for girls to be crying and swooning over him. Maybe he was all talk, but she made a promise that she would never find out, even though a part of her wanted to.

Y/N had a few drinks, feeling herself loosen up and wanting to dance, she made her way to the centre of the common room. She swayed her hips to the beat, muggle music was playing which she enjoyed a lot. She closed her eyes feeling the sensual words of the song.

Draco had spotted her from when she first stepped into the party. He couldn't take his eyes off her, even when he had a red head witch attached to his arm. He wanted nothing more than to drag Y/N away and keep her locked in his room so no one else could see her provocative dance moves.

So he made his move, he left the red head alone and slithered through the crowds of wizards.

Finding his prize, he slipped behind her, snaking his long slender fingers around his waist and settling them. His hips moved in time with Y/N's, she knew it was him and purposely pushed her ass onto his groin, causing Draco to let out a quiet groan.

Her arms went behind her wrapped around his neck, her long nails scratching the back of his neck. He had to lean down as she was shorter than him, but he didn't mind, he was closer to her ear and that's exactly what she wanted. Maybe it was the alcohol but she wanted him to say filthy words to her, like before.

"If you were mine we wouldn't even be here right now" he growled, kissing her ear lobe.

"Why's that?" Y/N whispered, Draco's hands dug into her waist, pulling her closer to him.

"Because, I would be fucking you senseless, in this pathetic excuse of a dress."

Y/N moaned at his words, imagining his large hands running all over her body. Attacking her pussy with his tongue, she craved it. She was beginning to realise that she wanted Draco Malfoy, she would never tell him that though.

The music continued and so did their dancing.

"Perhaps if you we're lucky I would let you join the party again, only when my cum was inside you"

"Draco" she whimpered, one of his hands made its way up towards her neck, holding it with a light grip.

"All those other boys that eye fuck you would know you're mine, they'd see my cum running down your thighs, they'd see the wobble in your walk, your swollen lips and I would be there so they knew who you belonged to."

Y/N was wet, more than wet, she felt her arousal leaking onto her thighs. Her underwear was uncomfortable as it was soaked.

"Draco move your hand" she whispered. She felt his hand sitting in the middle of her ass, making it impossible to concentrate and dance.

"That's not my hand darling."

That was it for Y/N she needed to get away from him. "I'm going to use the bathroom" she rushed, hurrying away from him and finding the nearest bathroom.

She took a deep breaths, her nipples were erected, face was red. She'd never been this turned on before.

She stared at herself in the mirror, an awful ache down below. She needed some release, she ran into the bathroom stall, slamming it and locking it behind her. Her thighs began rubbing together but it didn't work.

Y/N growled in frustration and walked out of the bathroom stall. She was faced with Draco, he had lust in his eyes, his breathing was laboured. He leaned against the door, she watched as his hand went to the lock and turned it.

"Draco" Y/N said which came out almost inaudible.

He closed the gap between them, his erection was apparent, creating a tent in his trousers.

"Tell me to stop."

Y/N gulped, feeling his hands settle on either side of her face, cupping it gently, his darkened eyes remained on her lips.

"Tell me to stop Y/N."

She couldn't think, she was too turned on, she wanted satisfaction so badly. She wanted Draco to be the one to do it. His mouth inched further towards her own, she felt his breath on her lips.

"I won't be able to control myself if you don't ask me to stop right now" he mumbled, holding her face tighter.

Y/N had finally caved, she wanted him.

"Don't stop."

Draco's mouth instantly dove onto Y/N's. It was a desperate kiss, tongues were in and out of the others mouths. Teeth were clashing against one another's, Draco groaned at the taste of her mouth. He loved it, he knew no one else would compare to her.

Draco backed Y/N harshly against the sink, her lower back bending slightly, a small hiss came from her mouth at the force of his push. His hands were no longer on her face, they were everywhere. Y/N couldn't keep up, one moment they were on her thighs, then her waist, they brushed against her nipples.

Their mouths were still connected, they couldn't get enough of each other. Draco kicked her feet apart, one hand holding her neck, the other drew patterns on her inner thighs.

Y/N became more desperate for him, a small thrust from her hips made Draco laugh.

"Patience darling, I want this as bad as you do, but I want you to be ready for when I give you my cock, I don't want to hurt you."

His fingers brushed her clothed cunt, the friction between the lace and her clit was sending Y/N over the edge. "Fuck you're so wet, tell me it's because of me" Draco said hoarsely, it almost came out like a beg.

"Yes Draco."

Draco let out a strangled groan, pushing her underwear to the side so he could come into direct contact with her sensitive clit. He rubbed circles around it, causing Y/N to moan his name.

"Fuck, I can't believe I've finally got you like this" he moaned, feeling the wetness on his fingers. Y/N was withering beneath him, rubbing herself against his fingers, but Draco was taking his time.

A part of him wanted to savour this moment as he didn't know if this could happen again.

His middle finger entered Y/N with ease, her wetness surrounding his digit. Draco's hand fell from her throat onto the edge of the countertop, gripping it, turning his knuckles pale. He was enjoying this just as much as Y/N.

Draco's finger curved, stroking her rippled wall. The pad of his thumb still pleasuring her clit, Y/N was close, she wanted to cum so badly. He slipped in another finger, Y/N instantly squeezed them, nearing closer to her orgasm.

"You're so fucking tight, I can't wait to feel you around my cock."

Draco's fingers pumped in and out of her quickly, Y/N was panting against his neck, she sucked and bit on his pale flesh. Her mark was now on his skin, Draco saw this in the mirror and oh he could've came right then and there.

"Oh God, Draco" Y/N cried into his shoulder, he had added another finger, stretching her out and preparing her for his cock. "Cum, fuck I want to taste you so bad, cum Y/N."

That was it for Y/N, her pussy tightened around his three fingers, his thumb continued to rub her clit. She came moaning his name "that's it" Draco cooed in her ear.

He pulled his soaked fingers out, watching them with hooded eyelids. Y/N watched him with a blush on her cheeks as he dipped each finger into his mouth, sucking and moaning at the taste.

"Better than I ever imagined."

But Draco wasn't finished, he wanted to be inside her, he wanted her to cum around his cock the same way she did with his fingers. He pulled her into a passionate kiss, not an eager one like before.

Y/N was spun around, her back against his chest, she was pushed forward by his large hands. Y/N bit her lip as she watched Draco eye her backside which was now exposed to him. He was so hot, she thought to herself.

Draco looked at her through the mirror, his trademark smirk now on his face. His hand raised and fell hard on her ass, causing her to jolt forward "that's for calling me a bastard."

He slapped her again.

"That's for ignoring my gifts."

And again.

"That's for rejecting me."

Y/N was a moaning mess, she was wetter than before. Draco saw this as he watched her exposed pussy "now look at you" he laughed.

"Bending over for me, waiting for me to fuck you."

"Fuck you Draco" Y/N spat, this was why she didn't want to give into him because he was a smug prick. Y/N went to get up, Draco gripped the back of her hair, pushing his erection between her ass cheeks. She let out a small sob.

"Exactly."

Y/N was pushed forward again, his hand remained on her lower back, holding her in place. "Keep your eyes on me darling."

Y/N felt Draco snap her underwear, he unbuttoned his trousers pushing them down with his boxers. Y/N's eyes went wide, it all made sense now, why the girls were always crying, itching to have sex with him.

It all made sense.

He was big, not big like 'oh that might satisfy you'. No, he was big big, Y/N couldn't believe it, she wondered how the hell he was going to fit that inside her. She was definitely not walking straight after this, he must've hid it well because she never expected him to be that large.

"This is yours, after this" he said whilst rubbing his tip up and down Y/N's entrance. "It belongs to you and so will I."

Draco's head was thrown back as he held onto Y/N's hip tightly. His other hand was in her hair, he pushed his tip inside her, groans came out of them both simultaneously. He pulled out and pushed into her again, this time making her take more of his dick.

It was never ending for Y/N, he just kept going, inch by inch he entered her. Stretching her so wide and reaching close to her cervix. Draco's face was red, his breathing was heavy.

"I- fuck, I can't, shit" Draco couldn't form a proper sentence, he was fully inside her, his cock was hugged so tight by her pussy he knew he was going to cum within minutes.

Draco pulled out halfway and pushed into her again, he repeated this action a few times, he saw through the mirror that Y/N's eyes were screwed shut.

"Shit, are you okay? I can stop, fuck, do you want me to stop? Is it hurti-" Draco was cut off by Y/N opening her eyes.

"Fuck me Draco."

His eyes widened, he nodded quickly, both hands were now gripping onto her hips, digging into her. He thrusted hard, a loud scream came from Y/N's mouth. Draco stalled but Y/N told him to keep going.

He picked up his pace, pulling 3/4 of the way out and slamming back into her. He was fucking her hard, with determination in his eyes. He couldn't believe this was happening, especially after their conversation this morning. Draco was on cloud nine.

"Oh fuck Draco."

"I know" he growled, he pulled her hips back at the same time to meet his aggressive thrusts. The sounds of their skin slapping together echoed throughout the bathroom, partnered with distance background music. The sound to Y/N was so erotic.

She was coming close to her second orgasm, Draco must've felt her clench around him as he let out a growl and started to rub her clit.

Y/N had never had sex like this before, she loved every bit of it. Draco's face whilst he was fucking her turned her on even more. He watched his cock slip out of her and then bit his lip when he pushed back into her. He was going to cum.

Draco pinched her clit, which was it for Y/N. She was screaming his name, her thighs shaking, her vision became blurred.

"Fuck, tell everyone who's making you cum like that" he grunted, his thrusts were now short and deep.

Y/N cried out as Draco continued to fuck her in order to chase his own orgasm. "Tell them who you belong to, who you always belonged to."

"You Draco, it's you."

That sent Draco over the edge, his thrusts were sloppy as he found himself cumming. He left bruises on Y/N's hips from his fingers.

Y/N moaned feeling his cum spill inside her, rope after rope of his warm, thick cum it was so much. Draco had never came like this before, he found himself not knowing when it would end.

Y/N was filled up with it, he pulled out, two more spurts landing on her ass cheeks and then his dick went soft again. He let out a string of curse words, before he ran to grab tissue.

He wiped Y/N's red ass, removing his cum and then wiped himself. Y/N was still catching her breath as she watched as Draco pulled his boxers up, followed by his trousers.

"Are you okay?" He asked her with concerned eyes. Y/N couldn't speak, she just stared at him, her mouth agape. She watched him as if she was star struck.

"Say something."

Draco looked around nervously, slightly feeling uncomfortable as if he'd done something wrong. Y/N cleared her throat and stood up as straight as she could. Her pussy was hurting, her ass was sore, she could feel his cum sliding down her inner thighs.

"Y/N, fuck, if I've done something wrong just tell me."

Y/N shushed him with her finger, she pulled him towards her by his shirt. Draco was confused, even more when she pulled him into a sweet kiss. He returned the kiss, melting into it, Y/N pulled away and scanned his features.

He was blushing "do you" he trailed, looking down at her inner thighs "should I get a tissue for that?"

"Leave it, I want all the boys that eye fuck me to know I'm yours."

[avintagekiss24]

—belated; bucky barnes

pairing: mob!bucky barnes x black!reader

word count: 4738

warnings: 18+ ONLY, smut, sex, rough sex, anal sex, biting kink, choking kink, spanking, pain kink, vaginal fingering, mean bucky (my fave), ring kink cuz i love it when boys wear rings

squares filled: @buckybarnesbingo Y3: Birthdays ; @badthingshappenbingo Biting ; @star-spangled-bingo N1: Taking Charge

request: bucky barnes + "pay attention to me or i'll make you" + anal + choking + spanking + biting + pain

author note: it's been foreverrrrr! i'm so sorry! i had to work myself through a little slump! hopefully this makes up for the almost two months we've gone without a fic! this is story #2 for my 5k celebration, all fics will be tagged #5k...holy god. this was formatted in the beta text post editor on desktop, if anything looks weird, that's why :)

gif by @pedropcl ; line divider by @firefly-graphics

James Buchanan Barnes is possessive.

One of those massive hands around the back of your neck as you walk casually through the streets. Fingers wrapped around your wrist, or shoulder, or hip in a tight grip. He pulls you in close— right into his side as shopping bags hang from the tips of his metal fingers.

Bucky Barnes wants every man on the streets of Greece to know that you are his.

Not that you mind; quite the contrary. You just smile and giggle when he throws his heavy arm around your shoulders and hooks the crease of his arm right underneath your chin. Slip your hand into the back pocket of his loose dark jeans (giving that little tush of his a squeeze). Slink your arm around his little waist and breathe in his scent— heavy and woodsy— as the two of you stroll.

After all, he’s just as much yours as you are his.

All of his friends, Sam, Steve, Clint, all see the change in him. The little soft spot for you that blinds him entirely— turns him in a mushy puddle of emotions and puppies and rainbows. Very different from the Bucky they grew up with, but a Bucky that the three of them have come to enjoy. It’s a change of pace from the enforcer they know.

The two of you don’t talk about his work— in fact, it’s the reason why you’re in Greece to begin with. A late birthday present to make up for the fact that his “work” just happened to be the waiter at the restaurant he chose to take you to for your thirty second birthday. Come on babe, he chuckled as you scowled back at him over the rim of your wine glass, watching as he stained his white napkin red with his bloody knuckles, you know what they say, kill two birds with one stone… not funny?

Two weeks, two nonrefundable, open ended tickets, and five grand in bikinis, shorts, and shoes later, you’re getting some much needed Greek sun on your deep brown skin.

He’s even letting you call the shots for a change. Letting you wake him up at the ass crack of dawn to have breakfast— a spread of breads, cheeses and fruits on the balcony of your room as the sun rises. He doesn’t say a word as you drag him through the city, stopping at each little boutique and shoe store. Sits patiently as you try on every dress, every skirt, and every silk top in the entire country it seems.

Bucky even bit his lip as you gazed at engagement rings— hinting that princess cut is your favorite as you held your hand up into the natural sunlight as one adored your finger. Smiling over at him and wiggling your eyebrows all the while as he narrowed his eyes and plastered a fake smile on his face.

Today has been like all the others, a lazy day spent on the beach, a quick nap underneath an umbrella, a concoction of too much sun and too many margaritas going straight to your head. Now, you’re kinda sleepy and kinda drunk, but most importantly hungry— and Mykonos sounds like a great place for dinner. Despite Bucky’s objections (you’re too tired and too drunk to handle a ferry), you’re dressed in a cute little flowery sundress, him in an out-of-character white tank top, open pale blue and green striped button down and khaki chinos— you forbade him from bringing anything black— and you’re flip flops are slapping against the cobblestone street towards the ferry.

“Drop your attitude,” You say, glancing over your shoulder as he pays for your tickets, “You owe me.”

“Yeah, yeah, that excuse is wearing thin, girl.” You stumble a little with the motion of the ferry as you step onto it, having to grab onto the railing to steady yourself before Bucky grabs hold of your wrist, “Water only for the rest of the night.”

His voice is low and borderline threatening as he presses his lips right against your ear, and you know not to press him any further. You like to stick your toes right up against his line and that’s what irritates him most about you (always what he loves most), but you and he both know you’d never dare cross it.

Bucky pulls you behind him, hand around your wrist, that possessive trait rearing its head as male eyes fall on you as the two of you pass by. He finds an empty spot, away from the crowd, and plops down on the bench as you step up on the lower rung of the railing and stare out over the sea.

Within twenty or thirty minutes, the ferry pulls away from the dock and you can’t wipe the smile from your face. The sun sets off in the distance, the bright lights of the city turning into little pinpoints. Small droplets of the cool, salty water splashes up in your face as the wind and the ferry whips it up. You keep glancing down at the phone in your hand as you broadcast your current view to your instagram, laughing softly as hearts and emojis explode on your screen.

You lean forward, tilting your phone and smiling wide, waving into the camera before you shout out how much you love it here. The words are barely out of your mouth before an arm wraps around your middle, a wide, hard chest pressed into your back, “That’s enough,” he reaches with his metal arm, grabbing your phone, ending your live feed, “You’re too drunk to be hanging off the side like that.”

“I am not,” you struggle against him lightly as he sets you on your feet, “What is your problem?”

“I’m annoyed.”

“Well, duh. Why?”

He slips your phone into his pocket and crosses his arms over his chest, sharp blue eyes piercing into yours, “Pay attention to me,” he says low, eyes dropping down your body real slow as he drags his bottom lip between his teeth, “Or I’ll make you.”

So that’s what it’s about. Bucky Barnes feels neglected between all the shopping and beach days and margaritas. Jealousy is cute on him.

The words though, they strike you right to your core— feel them down to your bones. A hard swallow pushes through your throat as your lips part, big brown eyes softening as your breath starts to rush a little harder. You hate to admit— not really— you love this Bucky. This is work Bucky, a man you rarely get to see. Slightly scary, anger brimming just below the surface. Jaw tight, eyes hard, head tilted just a bit. He’s menacing, and it makes your lips twitch into a small smile.

Shrugging defiantly, you cross your arms over your chest, “You didn’t pay much attention to me on my birthday.”

“Not true.”

“Not true?” you nearly shout, eyes going wide, “I ate alone while you beat the hell outta our waiter behind the building! I had to wait two hours for my slice of cake!”

“How is that my fault?”

You scoff, “Oh, I dunno, maybe because our waiter was spitting out his teeth in the alley out back— all thanks to you.”

“I have to work. You know that.”

“Not,” you hiss, “On my fucking birthday.”

He knows he’s wrong for that shit, so he stands there, huffing quick before he cocks his head again and just blinks back at you— unamused. He won’t apologize, it’s just not in his nature, but his usual attempts to make you happy after he’s fucked up aren’t working; so he’s at a loss.

And you’re enjoying that. A little too much if you ask him.

But alas, it’s not fun to fight on vacation, and you have taken far too many liberties when it comes to his tolerance for attitude. It’s been fun— and you’re just drunk enough to push him one last time.

You move slow, walking right up to him, so close that each inhale pushes your tits into his body. The smirk quirked up on your lips grows as you peer up at him, eyes bouncing between his as you place your hands on his forearms still crossed over his chest.

Bucky lifts his eyebrow as you push up on your tiptoes and push your chin forward to bring your lips close to his, “And just how are you gonna make me pay attention to you, James?”

He inhales deep, pushes it out real slow as he tilts his head even further. A smile spreads on his face and you just know that this is the last thing his work sees before he rearranges the bones of their face. This is exactly why his clients pay him as well as they do.

Thick fingers are wrapped around your wrist again, nails digging into your skin as he starts to pull you behind him. He weaves you through bodies, you nearly having to jog to keep up with his strides. Laughter bubbles up in your chest, a little shriek escaping as he pulls you down some stairs to the lower level of the ferry. Once your feet hit the last step, Bucky whips you around his body, sending you spinning and laughing until you bounce into an old, rusty metal barrel.

The smell of salt fills your nose and lungs as you inhale, covering your face with your hands. Your skin is hot, lips slightly numb as you dissolve into laughter again. He’s right, you’re a little too drunk for this.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to be down here.” You mumble, brushing your wild hair out of your face.

“I could give a fuck,” he answers, stepping up to you, grabbing your face in his hands, “You’ve been testing me the entire time we’ve been here all over some stupid shit.”

Another giggle pushes through your lips as you bat your eyes, “I wouldn’t dare, Mr. Barnes.”

Bucky sucks his teeth as he drops his metal hand around your throat and squeezes gently, the rings on his fingers cool against your skin, “I was stupid, okay? But don’t put on that little innocent act, girl. You’re trying me, and I’ve had enough.”

A smile cracks onto your face, teeth sinking into your bottom lip. You wrap both hands around his one wrist and slip them up his arm, feeling the soft metal as you continue to goad him, “You got some proof, big man?”

The tip of his black and gold thumb prods at your lip, pushes just inside. You wrap your tongue around it and suck gently, keeping your eyes on his all the while.

Bucky laughs, deep and earnestly, “Proof, she says. She needs proof.” He glances around before he spins you quick, facing you away from him as he lifts your dress to reveal your pink satin thong.

You squeal loud, pushing and slapping at his hand as he grabs a handful of your ass, “Bucky! There’s people!” you laugh, “Oh my god!”

“Keep your voice down,” he warns, wrapping his metal fingers around your throat again, “Understand?”

A jolt of electricity flashes through you as you wiggle in his grasp. He tightens his grip around your neck as you wrap your fingers around the edge of the barrel, swallowing hard.

“That requires an answer, honey.”

The chill in his voice, added with the slow circles and soft tickles of fingertips against the back of your naked thigh sends a pang through your belly, “I understand.”

He chuckles soft and with a quick peck on the cheek whispers, “Good girl.”

Bucky curls his left arm around your chest, hooking your chin in the crease of his arm as he grips your right shoulder. You grab on to it with both hands, out of instinct, eyes wide and skirting around for any signs of other human presence down here. Bucky turns, moving you with him to eye the steps quickly again before that flesh hand sweeps around to the front.

The soft material of your dress falls over his hand as he rubs your stomach— his rings catching and snagging your skin. That hand pushes downward, over your thighs, gripping and kneading the soft flesh before he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it upward, exposing those expensive panties again.

“Bucky,” you hum, his name trembling on your lips with the vibrations of your excitement, “Baby.”

He rucks your dress right up— right up around your waist and pulls the slack behind you, pressing his body into yours to keep it in place. The dark stubble adorning his cheeks and chin cuts into the side of your face as he nuzzles in, humming to himself soft before he kisses the corner of your mouth.

Those fingertips start to trace the hem of your thong— slowly. Back and forth, back and forth. From hip to hip. Your eyes flutter. Fingers grip the soft black metal of his arm a little harder. Legs go to jelly as another hard swallow passes through your throat.

“Ain’t got all that mouth now, do you?” He whispers, fingers slipping just inside the silk of your panties to tease the delicate skin underneath.

When he slips his hand in— all the way in— cupping hot skin, fingers dancing between folds and teasing a wet slit, an influx of air fills your lungs. A gasp, small and clipped sounds in the back of your throat as his fingers start a rhythm. You melt into him, head resting on his shoulder as your hips push forward to meet greedy fingers.

A naughty finger pushes in quick, and then a second— all the way to the black and silver rings dressed on them. His arm tightens around your neck as he presses his lips right against your ear, “You need to apologize.”

He fucks his fingers into you, withdrawing slow, and then pushing back in— each time the edges of his rings stopping him from going deeper. You can’t help but purr as you continue to grip his arm with both of your hands.

“I don’t think—“

“All I want to hear,” his words clip yours, each one slow and drawn and deep, “Is I’m sorry for testing your patience. I won’t do it again.” He curls his fingers, the pads stroking that sweet little spongey spot, making you clamp your legs closed around his hand, “Let me hear you.”

You can’t. You won’t. Too stubborn and too drunk to give in to him, wanting to win just this once.

If there’s one thing James Buchanan Barnes does not like, it’s hesitation. It’s dangerous, he always says. You think too long, you get hurt. Predators don’t hesitate.

Well, you like being his prey.

Only a few seconds pass before Bucky tuts in your ear, seemingly disappointed in your obstinate behavior, but you both know it’s just the opposite. His cock pressing into your ass tells you so.

The fingers disappear. The arm choking you just right pulls away and your dress falls back around the middle of your thighs. You huff, wiping quick at your forehead and pushing your wild, curly hair out of your face again.

Your hands find your hips in irritation but he slaps them away quick as he sucks his teeth, “You must really want this spanking, girl. Keep it up.”

That you do— keep it up. Huffing again. Crossing your arms over your chest like a petulant child. Brown eyes cut back at him over your shoulder to find sharp blues already on you. A smirk on his face.

Metal fingers curl around the back of your neck, pushing you forward gently until your thighs press against the old metal barrel again.

“Lean forward, kitten.”

Voice as smooth as silk while you do so, gripping the rusted edges for balance. Your dress is yanked up again— rough this time— and twisted around his Vibranium hand. Then there’s warm, the warmth of skin against yours. Gentle brushes of fingers and a palm rubbing slow circles, then pinching and grabbing soft— prepping your skin for what’s to come.

He pauses for just a second, no doubt to scan your surroundings and then pulls his hand away. You lung forward with the slap he levels to your behind within a fraction of a second— the sound sharp and heavy.

There’s another, and then a third in quick succession before he’s massaging your skin again. Real soft and sweet. Tears burn at the back of your eyes at the sting that radiates through, all the way to your bones but the molten heat deep in your belly spreads like a fire. Each breath is hard and shaky, heart thumping against your chest but it’s so good.

Bucky switches to the other cheek, skilled fingers sweeping over your canvas of skin before he cracks you— one, two, three.

You squeal with each one. The thud of those heavy rings around his fingers send a quick, new shockwave every time, building on the one before it. The tips of your fingers go red from holding on to the rusty old barrel as tight as you are, but your brain? She’s fuzzy and warm, and drifting up into the clouds with each swift slap.

Bucky is a methodical man. Three for the right cheek, three for the left, three right in the middle. His hand sneaks around your hip, giving it a squeeze before it comes back around and drops to the inside of your thigh. Grabs the meat of it— digs his fingernails in just to hear you yelp. Cups your cunt in his palm, feeling the heat and the wet— makes him groan all low and dirty.

He bunches your hair in his hand, tugs you up by it. Spins you around to face him before hoisting you up and settling you on top of the barrel.

“You want me to fuck you so bad, don’t you?” He growls, ripping at the button and zipper of his jeans.

You just hum in response, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your arms over his shoulders.

Bucky grabs your chin, forcing it up before he squeezes your cheeks, “Huh? Answer me.”

Damp eyelashes flutter as hot air escapes from parted, hot lips. He leans in real close, cock pushing right at your slit and kisses you hard as he slips his arm around your waist. He breaks away quick, sloppy and loud before pecking your lips once, twice, three times again.

“You want me to fuck you, girl?”

The weight of his words are felt right down to your core, a shiver passing between the two of you. You let your heavy head fall back and your eyes close as Bucky nuzzles into the side of your face, his pretty white teeth skipping along your neck, nipping and nibbling.

“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper after mere seconds, finally submitting in this cat and mouse game, “Bucky, please.”

That’s all he needs— all he wants. For you to submit, after letting you have the reins for one day too long. He sinks into you slow, spreading you open with each inch, biting down into the side of your neck as he bottoms out. His teeth dig in a little deeper, a little harder as he starts to move, rocking back and forth almost succinct with the waves of the water.

You’re moving with him too, meeting each of his thrusts with your hips. You keep your legs tight around his waist, feet dangling and bouncing against the back of his thighs. A trail of hot kisses are pressed along your neck and down your shoulder before traipsing back up— teeth grazing along your jaw.

Long fingers skip up your side and between your bouncing tits to only wrap around your neck again. They squeeze, gently, as his pace starts to pick up, hips shoving harder and faster— that old barrel starting to scrape against the wood floor.

The force makes you louder, moaning with abandon as if the two of you are all alone on this little ferry. Bucky makes quick work of you, shoving metal fingers into your mouth— giving you something to suck on to keep you quiet.

“That’s a good girl.” he growls, voice gritty and low.

He’s punishing after that. Each snap of his hips thrusting you backward, the barrel you’re on top of tipping back and then slapping down on the floor. You yelp with each one, your mouth going slack around his digits as your hands fall to the edges of the barrel for some semblance of balance.

It’s obscene, the way you can hear your fuck. The wet of your cunt. The squeak of his cock plunging into tight, slick muscles. The heavy thud of his hips pounding into yours. The slap of your flip flops falling to the wood floor as he’s quite literally fucked them right off of your feet. It’s filthy— crude— and so very Bucky.

You’re back on your feet before you know it— before you realize it. Spun back around, Bucky’s hard chest and stomach pressed into your back. He grabs both of your hands and places them back on the barrel, his metal hand staying on top of yours, fingers gripping fingers.

Eager hips wiggle back into his as you hiss and sink your teeth into your bottom lip, groaning low. Your head drops when you feel his cock push through your ass cheeks— wet cockhead pressing against your hot rim.

He starts to fumble around behind you, each passing second making you more and more impatient. There’s a soft click, and then a light suction sound— something squeezing.

“Bucky,” you hiss, pushing back into him again, “Hur—”

The word breaks off right in the middle as he levels a quick smack against your hip— a warning. Then your ass cheeks are pulled apart, wet, slimy fingers sliding and prodding at your quivering rim. He brushes slow strokes, circling, pressing his fingers gently as he preps your little hole for what’s to come.

“What kind of freak brings lube to dinner?” you smile, gasping as he pinches the inside of your thigh.

You lurch forward when he grabs the back of your neck and yanks you back into him, lips right against your cheek, “The kinda freak that was gonna fuck you in an alley after dinner. Now shut that mouth.”

He’s pressing again, this time harder, his cockhead popping into you with force. You grunt with the initial intrusion, Bucky stopping his assault to allow you time to adjust to him— but that doesn’t last long. Your mouth goes slack again. Eyes slam shut, head falls forward as he slips in, deeper and deeper and deeper until his stomach is flush with your ass.

He wiggles— so you can feel him, feel him tickling the deepest part of you. Slaps at your ass again, quick, fingers glancing off your skin and leaving behind a hell of a sting. Then he’s fucking you again, slower this time, savoring the tight, glove-like hold your body provides.

Metal fingers grab at the hem of your dress again, tugging it up before they push back into your panties, finding a swollen, hot nub. Pinching and rubbing smooth circles against it, flicking and thrashing at the bundle of nerves before he shoves his fingers back into your cunt. They curl, those fingers, and pet your insides with surgical precision— only James Buchanan Barnes knows how to fuck you like this.

The heel of his palm slams against your clit as he fingers you rough and fucks your ass with gusto. Sleazy sounds gurgle up in your throat, the slapping of skin and the waves crashing against the side of the ferry, the rush of the wind filling your ears. Bucky pulls you flush against him and slithers his tongue just beneath your ear before his teeth grab a hold, tugging soft.

Teeth keep nipping— along your jaw, your cheeks, ears, neck. He fucks into you hard as he shoves his flesh hand into the neckline of your dress, gripping your tits. Pinching and kneading hard, thick nipples, mumbling sweet nothings all the while.

Your stomach churns, muscles tensing and flexing as synapses start to fire off in quick succession. Quick goosebumps pop up along your skin as your stomach tightens and you can taste it it’s so close. Bucky knows it, feels it as your walls constrict around his fingers, your asshole tightening around him. Vibranium fingers keep rubbing, keep fucking into your pussy hard, palm slapping against your clit, adding more and more pressure until the coil snaps.

It’s hard, and sudden— your body freezing as your orgasm consumes you. Bucky clamps a wet hand over your mouth as you mewl and bite into his palm, your hips thrusting forward with each wave of your release. He pulls his fingers from you to slap at your jumping clit, pressing the pads into it before he rubs quick little circles and then slaps at it again.

He drops his hand to your chin, yanking it up as you nearly cry, mewling and trembling with your release to kiss you hard and sloppy as you come. He kneads your tits with his mammoth hand as aftershocks flash through you, your used body jerking at random. Within seconds, there's a cloud of warmth in your ass. Rough grunts in your ear, growing louder with each spurt of his cock, your hot muscles milking him.

You let him use you, let him fill you up full of his silk. Grab his hands and lace your fingers with his as he empties long ribbons in you. Pull his arms around your waist and hold them there as he rides it out, his head falling to your shoulder. The two of you stand there, resting against that old barrel, breathing hard, skin sticky and balmy. Salt from the ocean in your nose.

Bucky’s the first to pull away, glancing back at the stairs before he pulls himself gingerly from you, leaving your body empty, a dribble of his come slipping out with him. He catches it with his fingers, drags them up the back of your thigh and between your ass cheeks before he shrugs out of his collared shirt and white tank top.

He cleans you up sweet with the tank top. Keeps his arm around your waist to steady you as he wipes at your thighs and your hot, sticky, puffy cunt, shushing you soft when you jump and whimper at the contact. He flings the messy tank top over the side of the ferry and rubs your hips and stomach real slow, murmuring into your ear all the while.

Diligent fingers then rearrange your thong— and cop a little feel, cupping your sensitive, swollen sex, giving it a little pinch so he can laugh when you shiver and squeak. Bucky pulls your dress, tugging lightly to get it back straight around your waist before smoothing it over your ass and thighs— even pulls at the top, making sure your tits are sitting pretty.

You can’t even open your eyes, overcome by alcohol and sleepiness and a post sex high. He fumbles with your fingers as your head lulls on his shoulder, a soft hum vibrating in your throat in your murky haze. Bucky lifts your arm by the elbow, sliding his hand up your forearm until he’s cupping your hand in his.

“Open your eyes, baby.” You groan in protest, causing a chuckle to rumble through his chest, “Come on.”

So you do. You always do whatever this man wants you to do— and there, right on your finger sits that big princess cut engagement ring you teased him with days before.

“How about we skip dinner and find a church, huh?” he whispers, kissing your cheek soft and sweet.

You glance at him over your shoulder, eyes wet as a smirk tugs at the corners of your mouth, “And if I say no?”

“You just can’t help yourself, can you?” He laughs as you adjust in his arms, pushing up on your tiptoes to cup his handsome face and kiss him on those pretty pink lips, “Then I guess I’ll have to fuck some sense into that pretty mouth of yours, won’t I birthday girl?”

[brisbookmark]

The Three Times Jason Wasn’t Saved- and The One Time he Was

Jason Todd x Reader

Warnings: detailed descriptions of torture, angst, character death, blood, needles, knives/ cutting, batfam au where the gangs all here, Robin!Jason, reader can summon weapons, sad ending

One

His head hangs, he doesn't have the energy. His feet barely touch the ground, and yet he makes no move to stand himself up. They're tingly and fuzzy and cold, as are his hands that are tied above his head. 

Jason Todd hangs in chains like a slaughtered pig, and his breathing is hoarse. His dull blue eyes land on the bloodied crowbar laying on the floor. It's his blood, and it makes him groan in pain. Hyper realization of his injuries hits him and he whimpers. It's low, pathetic, and his breathing picks up.

He doesn’t remember how to wear clothes that aren’t covered in dirt and grime and acid. The fabric of his robin suit sticks to his skin, blending with his wounds. Every small move of limb sends fires of pain throughout his body, and he tries his hardest not to make a sound. 

The Asylum wing is freezing and he’s cold, skin almost blue. He shivers every once in a while- it’s different from when the Asylum is scorching hot and he feels like he’s in hell where he belongs. The hair he used to keep so elegantly messy, it's dirty and scorched and matted and greasy against his head.

And he’s scared.

He knows that if he looks up, he'll see pictures. Taped to the dusty and damp walls of Arkham Asylum. Red circles trace each of their faces, and whether or not it's paint or blood he doesn't want to know.

It’s blood, it’s always been blood.

He can't bear to see their faces right now. Barbara, happy and smiling next to Dick as they enjoy a Gotham carnival. They're happy without him, he always held them back. He was too dependent on Barbara as a sister figure and was just an annoying kid to Dick, they're better now. 

Bruce. With a child on his shoulders. The son Jason could never be. A new Robin, one that could properly fulfill his duties. He was the failure, he was never going to be what Dick Grayson was. Maybe his replacement could, his replacement wouldn't let himself get captured.

Barbara and Selina and Alfred who had only ever taken care of him.

All with red targets around them. Everyone he'd ever cared for. Marked.

Everyone except Y/N, who's picture lay in pieces on the ground. Unlike the others, it wasn't taken by Joker's goons, and it wasn't recent.

It was her student ID from their first year at Gotham Academy. She was young, really young, eyes still bright and skin untainted by the scars of vigilante work. And she wasn't even looking at the camera but rather off to the side, caught by surprise when the photographer flashed his equipment. She hated pictures, and going to school was never a part of the deal. She’s mid laughing and so alive and happy in a world where Jason never hurt her. 

He'd stolen it soon after it was taken, sticking it in his wallet so she'd be forced to ask him for his own. You couldn't access the Academy Library without one after all. 

And the Joker had found it in his pocket and took it and ruined it and tore it and left her in pieces in the corner, her name never spoken from the maniac again. 

Jason assumed that was good. Better to be left in silence than threatened and marked for death. Hell, he couldn’t remember how long it's been since he’s seen her, and he softly starts to whisper her name. She promised him a night out once he found his mother, 

No, he couldn’t. 

Maybe the Joker couldn’t find her, hadn’t figured out her identity. He could keep her safe.

"What's that my boy?"

"No.. no," Robin pleads, the voice of nails on a chalkboard sending fear into his every bone. "Not again, not again."

The Joker comes into view and a weak cry comes from Jason's lips. His body jerks and another cough wracks his body, warm blood spilling from his mouth. Broken ribs, internal bleeding, punctured lung, he has no idea what it could be. If only Alfred were here, or Dick. To let him rest as they fixed him up, took care of him.

His chin is grabbed harshly, the bruising making it worse. The Joker laughs, pushing his face upwards and close to his own. He can smell death and acid on this villain, and Jason whimpers again. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

The robin doesn't answer. He can't keep track. He tried counting the amount of times Joker visited him, but then again, that was most likely more than once a day. And sometimes it was Harley, or a low level goon dressed like Batman and Nightwing and Batigrl and her. 

Time is a blur to him, he's been in pain too long. Everything hurts, even if someone were to save him now, he feels practically gone already. 

He wanted someone to save him.

"What about it Jason? You think Bats will come? Save his precious son?" The Joker prods, mouth wide.

Jason wants to say it. But the words dont leave his mouth. 

"Go on, don't be scared Jason. Tell me, tell dear old Joker."

"HE'LL COME FOR ME!" he yells, and it uses all his strength to just move his jaw.

"Even when he's better off without you?" The Joker asks, and he bends down to lift the bloodied crowbar. 

No. Please, anything but that. 

"He's going to! He has to!" Jason screams, and then tears start streaming down his cheeks.

The metal finds its way onto his hip, sending his body swaying helplessly as he cries. 

"Tell me, who's hurting you?" The Joker asks, grin never leaving his face as he hits Jason again. 

"Please stop, I'll do anything," the boy pleads, desperately trying to think of anything else. If only the Joker would end him now, let him go free.

"Who's hurting you Jason?"

"YOU!" He shrieks, the crowbar smacking painfully across his chest and ripping at the skin. It's like his lungs have collapsed, he no longer has bones. 

"Wrong!" 

"The, the Joker-"

"WRONG AGAIN MY BOY."

Jason looks up at the pictures on the wall, squeezing his eyes shut. Blood pours into his mouth and he spits it out, shaking in his chains. "Batman.. batman is hurting me."

The next hit never comes. "Attaboy," The Joker mutters, and then he leaves.

Two

He returns the next morning. Jason assumes it's the next morning, as he's in a new purple suit. Harley gave him a dosage some odd amount of time ago, it must be a new day. His limbs are numb, his wrists are cracked and bleeding. He tries to keep his tongue in his mouth but his jaw is slack and disfigured, it’s increasingly difficult. 

Jason hasn't slept in days. Dark circles accessorize his black eyes, it's a miracle he can see at all.

The green haired man sets a timer in the corner of the room, and the Robin's brain goes into endless loops of trauma. The crowbar, the explosion that almost killed him. His mind wandered to warm arms pulling him out, thinking Bruce had pulled him from the rubble. Except it wasn't his father at all.

Batman hadn't even tried. 

"Jason." The Joker says sweetly, walking around the boy like a predator. The robin is helpless, he's lost all feeling in his limbs. "I thought I might tell you a story today."

The dark haired boy stays silent. He doesn't cry, he doesn't scream, he prays to a god he doesn't know for it all to stop. A bullet, a poison, the world ends in a fiery explosion, he didn't care.

"Jason."

"Just kill me already," he pleads, voice cracking and desperate.

Loud laughter echoes through the room. Jason's head hurts from the sheer volume, and it doesn't stop. It gets louder, and it carries around, and Jason lets out hushed breaths. 

"I can't kill you boy, we're a great team you and I! Would you like to hear my story?"

Jason closes his eyes in anticipation for today's beating.

The Joker grabs his face again, and Jason is groggy. Fading in and out of consciousness. But as his eyes are forced open and the first thing he sees is a blade, Jason screams.

It's a dull knife, long and serrated and bloody and dirty. And in its reflection is the lunatic's face, grinning like mad. The light catches on the razor as the Joker's eyes go wide.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" He sneers, and Jason cries. He struggles to get away, hanging helplessly from his suspension. Nothing works, and two goons from the shadows hold him still with no thought towards his bruised and broken body.

He's in agony, and he's begging. He's in insurmountable pain and he can't do anything about it. The razor is brought to Jason's lips, presses to the side of his mouth with dull pressure.

He’s muffled now, and he continues fighting. 

"Just,, like, this!!" The Joker yells, dragging the blade upward through Jason's skin at a slow agonizing pace. He wants this to be slow and torturous, and Jason only cries and shakes. It hurts, god it hurts, he's being cut open, and the blood and tears mix and cause him more pain, 

He almost wishes for the crowbar again and once the knife is finished on one side, he screams again. His blood bleeds from the blade and falls onto the floor, joining the rest from the past days. Months? It couldn’t have been years.

“Such a handsome young man,” the joker croons, erupting into even more laughter. “Tell me what brought the chicks in, your crippling daddy issues or your criminal record?”

Jason couldn’t answer if he tried. The Joker grabs his face, almost smelling his newfound wounds, and then pulls back, leaving him in a hanging sway. 

“Let me go..” he pleads, mouth sore. His bright blue eyes are so devoid of color it hurts, and he closes them. Blood and dirt clumps on his pretty eyelashes. 

“Now I don’t think I can do that dear Jason.”

Joker licks the blade clean, it catches on the man's tongue and cuts him, not that he cares. Jason's glad he's not forced to swallow the damn thing.

Well, be careful what you wish for. 

Its sharp edge is brought down his jaw, down his neck, so close to his jugular veins, if only he could shift and catch himself on the blade, he could end it all. 

He starts crying.

He doesn’t know when he stops.

The Asylum walls go black, and he's shrieking. Harley Quinn brings a bat to his body as the Joker moves his knife, and it finds solace along Jason's cold chest.

One cut. Two cuts. Jason screams more. His throat is raw, he doesn't even know where his terror is coming from anymore, it'd been beaten out of him. 

"Bruce-, bruce stop-"

The Joker laughs. "AHA, the boys learning, don't you see? That's right, that's right."

The cuts are few, and after a while they're bearable. The hardest part to deal with is Harley"s high squeals as she beats him. She calls him cute, handsome, a songbird.

Songbird.

"You can't.."

"I can't what Jay darling? Hmm?? What can't I do?" The Queen of crime pouts, and Jason sees red.

"Don't say that," he spits, finding his voice. "That name isn't for you bitch."

The next time the knife touches his skin, it's coated in acid. And he's yelling for it to stop, he's pleading, thrashing around.

His kicks find Harley and he's flown forward and backward, still chained to the ceiling. Its desperate.

"JAY DARLIING," she sings. "Puddin what else gets our birdie going?? Mm? What makes him sing like a good pet. Oh this is exciting!" 

"SHUT UP-"

"Jay," Harley flutters her eyelashes, bringing herself close to his face. "Baby? Love? Is it sweetheart?" Her mouth is wide, eyes deranged. "Perhaps it's Mister J! He stares into her gaze, and for a second the jester flinches.

If Jason wasn't suspended and restrained, he'd kill her. He knew it and she knew it and Joker most definitely knew.

"Well Jason, kill her then! Do it loverboy, why won't you end her?" He croons, and Harley feigns sadness. 

"I-" he starts, unwilling to let himself hang in shame. How could he do this? 

"Oh come on angel! Why don't you try?" She shrieks, and then Jason is shouting, further tearing into the cuts along his mouth as he brings his legs up, attempting to wrap them around Harley's neck. 

He doesn't get very far. Someone holds him steady, and the stinging knife is brought back to his chest. An H. An A. Another H and an A. 

Straight across his chest, and then it begins again. Jason's breathing is labored from his attempt to retaliate, and he slips back into his daze of unconsciousness. He can't do this much longer.

THE.

Jason can see it in the mirror on the opposite wall. He doesn't remember when that got put there. If he could reach something with his feet he could throw it. Break the glass, pick it up with his feet again perhaps, end this torture-

JOKES.

Jason feels like vomiting. 

ON.

Jason vomits on the ground in front of him. Sweat sticks to his skin and he's pale, he feels a fever growing on him. The knife continues lower to his bruised skin. This couldn't get worse, could it. 

YOU.

The words are engraved on his body, marred by the blood dripping from it. Jason's eyes roll to the back of his head. The trauma puts him to sleep, and the Harley Quinn whispers another "Jay Darling" into his ear before departing. 

Three

Y/N’s picture is gone now, he can't even piece it together in his mind anymore. The scraps are scattered and disintegrated into dust.

This time he hears Harley before Joker, she's hanging off of the clown's arm, looking at him with the adoration of a psychopath. In her hands is a long poker, tip red hot, and she swings it without a care in the world. She giggles as her love comes closer to the half dead boy, untying his chains.

Jason lands on the floor, a crumpled heap of skin and broken bones. His head hits the ground, but it's the most beautiful thing he's touched in a long time.

He doesn't move, curling into a protective ball. 

"Mister J our bird isn't moving," Harley whines, kicking him in the back. He groans, shielding himself as best he could. There's nothing on the ground that's usable, not even a sharp stick or rock, there's a used abandoned needle but it sends him into nausea.

The Joker's laughing brings him back to reality as he attempts to crawl away. The floor is appalling, disgusting, a mix of wax and blood and body fluids that he wished he could forget, but he's let go. 

Jason slams his hands on the cement, using the force to wake him up and pull himself forward. His legs don't work, he's going delirious again, and then there's the sizzle of water behind him.

"Where are you going birdie?" Harley asks, and the Joker takes another step closer. 

"No, no, NO-" Jason pleads. Please let him go, dead or alive he doesn't care. Just get him out of here, make it stop. It's the only word he knows at the moment, every syllable is tortuous to pronounce. He bangs his head on the cement. God he’s going insane.

Stop touching him. Stop hurting him. 

He’s been beaten and tortured and degraded in the worst ways possible. He couldn’t remember what it was like to be human. And still, this was the worst pain yet.

He's pinned down as the hot poker nears his face, the symbol bright red on the end. Like a branded piece of meat. His flesh burns and sizzles as the Joker gives more pressure, and Jason's never screamed louder. 

It's in the intense silence within which he screams with his whole body. It forces its way from deep in his throat, demonic and angry and scared. 

He's hiding a truth from himself, and soon he's not screaming from the burning, but rather that he's stuck here. Forever. 

Edged with the tantalisingly sweet release of death, the Joker will never give it to him. 

The Joker will never let him die, he will never let him go. And now his cursed J is on Jason’s cheek, he’ll forever be the Joker’s pet.

When the brand stick is taken off his skin, Jason is sweating and pale and falls asleep.

"What a shame you couldn't handle it."

x

Y/N runs through the hallway with desperation. She'd tracked down Harley one night and by some god forsaken miracle, the deranged woman had blood on her skirts.

Another miracle hadY/N sneaking into Wayne Manor to ask Barbara to help her, analyzing the blood samples to track down the Joker.

They found something better.

For a second she believed Bruce's high end, most technologically advanced equipment was wrong. Babs assured her it wasn't. That was Jason's blood on Harley, less than two weeks old. 

"Jason?"

The boy looks up, whimpering. He almost doesn't hear her.

"Oh Jay," she whispers from the hallway. She's just a shadow but Jason knows it's her. No one has ever said his name with such gentleness. 

The woman lets out a sob. He's here, he's alive, he's gonna be okay. 

Jason holds back sobs of his own as she runs to him. Her fingers are first to touch him, resting on his chest and trailing over his scars, his wounds and his blood. His torn clothes, the dirt and acid burns. Her hand stops over his heart, beating so slow she would have believed him to be dead.

But this is Jason. He's not dying anytime soon. Especially not if she can help it.

Tears stream down her face as she wraps her arms around him, holding him close. 

He's gonna be okay.

Y/N is immediately supporting him as she conjures a knife to cut him down. His arms are free and he nearly goes unconscious.

She catches him before he can fall. It's not like the Joker when he needs to crawl away like a wounded puppy. He welcomes the other presence in the damp room, shaking. Jason lifts his head, and he doesn't even have to move until she's at his side. It's so different.. he forgot what this feels like. 

Jason forgot what it felt like to have emotions besides fear. 

He curls into her lap, slowly using her body to sit up. 

"Jay look at me, please," she murmurs, holding his face and brushing the hair out of those colorless eyes. "Oh my god I knew it.. I knew you were alive.. Jay I'm so sorry-" she stops herself, kissing the top of his blood matted head.

That doesn't matter now.

"I'm gonna get you out of here, you're okay sweetheart. Stay awake okay? Okay. Stay awake for me please."

Jason nods, hanging onto her. If he lets go, she'll leave. He'll lose her and he'll be stuck here again. She'll fade away.

It hurts to move, every bone and every limb is on fire. Then she's grabbing him and they're standing up, she's practically half carrying him.  

Mumbles of his name fill the empty asylum wing. Js and Jason's and Jay's pass her lips as if just repeating it is gonna make him alright.

One step, and Jason crumbles. He can't walk, it's a miracle he can feel his legs at all. "I'm not going anywhere," he mutters. 

She doesn't say anything. She knows.

Footsteps in the background. Walking, jogging, running. 

Maniacal laughs and snarls and spit.

Y/N bends her knees and slings him over her shoulder in a fireman's carry, and then she starts running. Down one hallway and then the next, the Arkham Asylum is a maze.

"Jay, side of my mask, the-"

"Comms," he finishes, holding the button to turn it on.

"Bat? Batgirl, do you read me?" The girl whispers, ducking into an alcove.

"I'm here. Did you..?"

"I've got him. Babs, he's alive, Jason's alive, he's breathing-" It feels so good to say, to not just breathe an empty statement. 

Crying comes from the other side of the comms. Barbara composes herself enough to speak, but even then, emotion hangs in her voice. "Let's bring him home then, where are you right now? Dicks outside the Asylum with Bruce, don't worry about the thugs or the cameras, we have it covered."

"I'LL FIND YOU BIRDIE!" 

"The Joker's here," Y/N tells Barbara and the air hangs with a pregnant pause. 

"Okay, Tim's gonna have you turn right, we got his signal."

The woman turns, ducking into the darkness.

"Y/N,." Jason wheezes, hanging onto her shoulders with the strength he could muster. 

"Jason if this is one of, one of your 'if we don't make it out' speeches-"

"Nevermind," he replies, wishing he had the energy and the ability to smile. She does, she smiles for the both of them- even if he can't see it from this angle. 

"God I'm going to make him pay for this. Writhing and screaming and begging for me to end him," she threatens, listening for the next of Barbara’s directions.

She's told to go right and through a door.

There's two sets of footsteps now.

Y/N continues, trying to fill the silence. The Joker won’t track her voice, the alarms are too loud. "That doesn't matter now, I guess. You're alive and I- we thought you were dead and it took so long for me to accept that, and I still don't know how I found you but I did and Jay I'm so proud of you-"

"Hey this doesn't mean you can give me a speech of your own," Jason interrupts, and she cracks another smile. She’s rambling like she always does when she overthinks, and he closes his eyes to imagine that they’re once again on a Gotham skyscraper with a bottle of champagne. Spilling secrets and laughing like they weren’t masked vigilantes with secret identities. 

"I love you Jason, and you're not leaving me again."

"HAHA I LOVE THIS GAME-" The Joker yells. His psychotic grin fills Jason’s vision as the maniac throws open a hatch, jumping down into the room. Jason is dropped to the ground and Y/N has her sword in hand, stepping in between the two men. 

His vision is blurry, he can’t see anything, and the ground is warm. 

He can’t succumb. Jason stands up again, grabbing a pistol from Y/N’s leg and he shoots. The feel of a gun trigger isn’t unfamiliar. 

Yelling fills the room, as does the clash of metal and fists, Jason smiles as the Joker cries out in pain. Another door opens, there’s girlish laughter now, and so many footsteps. He keeps shooting, dropping enemies like a second nature because he was Jason Peter fucking Todd. 

Jason’s ribs get stomped on again and he loses his gun, and metal echoes on the ground as something is dropped. Three gunshots ring through the room. 

No. 

No.

The Joker and the Harlequin keep laughing in glee, and Jason blacks out from crying again. 

x

Cold hands grab his face. The man who laughs is, well, laughing and pulling Jason’s face close to his own. The smell of death fills his senses and Jason opens his eyes. 

"How long do you think it's been, Jason?"

[haikyooot]

Inferno Pas de Deux

Pairing: Baji Keisuke x f!reader WC: 2.1k Genre/Tags:  fluff, little hurt & lots of crazy comfort, reader is implied to be a dancer, Baji lives and he is sooo whipped, ARSON, property damage, expressing anger through violence against inanimate objects, speeding, public nuisance (excessive revving), running from law enforcement, some suggestive language, a lot of profanity enough for tumblr to hid the fic from tags for an hour lmao

Summary: You’re stressed, tired, and pissed, so your boyfriend takes you on a ride to make a wish and get rid of some of that pent-up frustration.

A/N: Broken out from a longer Baji wip hehehe, it’s all gonna be little one-shots. I had so much fun with this one! It’s a lil (very) different from the usual stuff I write ahahah. Consider this...me paying dues for Baji angst.

"Oh my god, I want to kill her," you tell Baji one day, dreading going back to work the next day.

"Uh huh..." He's still waving around a little laser, playing around with the kitten who's trying to capture the red dot that's darting about on the floor.

"Are you even listening?"

"Uh huh..."

You roll your eyes and stare at the little kitten shaking its tiny paws in the air and the man who's pretty much a cat himself. Clearly, both are in their own little starry universes.

The next day, you're miserable. Miserable doesn't even begin to describe how out of control the whole workplace is. You want out—to leave. Leave now, leave for good. Tired. Exhausted. Done...and pissed.

A few paces away from the building entrance, you hear a familiar rev from behind, the deep rumble is so distinct. Of course, it's Baji's Suzuki, affectionately named Cockroach. Unfortunately. Oh, and it's nicknamed Cock, but that's irrelevant.

You turn to see bright headlights shining right in your face, the silhouette manning the bike is dark but you already know it's him. Baji rolls to a stop right in front of you and takes his helmet off, shaking his head to loosen his wavy locks.

"Keisuke?" you ask, wondering why he's here at this time of the night. You didn't tell him your late hours tonight, so how did he know? You see something strapped on the back of the bike and point at it. "Is that...a baseball bat?"

Baji tugs on your wrist, leaning out to beckon for a kiss. You grin and comply, giving him a quick peck. He answers your earlier curiosity, pulling the bat out and proudly holds it out to you. "Nice, isn't it. Here you go."

You raise an eyebrow at the twisted, rusty nails sticking out of the barrel and carefully ask, "Why?"

Baji grins wolfishly, dark eyes glinting. He revs out a buzzing beat like a bee doing a drumroll, flicking his wrist rapidly around the throttle and clutch. "Get on and you'll see. You know, you might want to put that bat away on public roads. You look so sexy holding it though, babe."

You chuckle and return the bat to him, taking the helmet he holds out to you instead. "Wasn't planning on helping you relive your bosozoku days."

He laughs. "Please, those are bygone times."

You swing your legs over back, positioning yourself in the comfy seat. After hearing the click of your helmet strap and feeling your arms wrapping around his waist, Baji takes off in a pop.

The bike cuts through the wind, weaving in and out of traffic. Left and right, right then left. The red brake lights from the cars are just a maze Baji takes you through. You look behind and it's a sea of blinking yellow. The beep and honks are muffled by Cockroach's roar.

"I thought you said you follow traffic rules now!"

"Did I? When have I ever!"

You stifle a laugh and press your face into Baji's back, hiding from the wind whipping onto your cheeks. He takes you far from the city, lights dimming into distant twinkles.

"You good?"

You give him a slight squeeze.

"Good. Hold on tight, sweetheart."

The gears shift. The throttle is cranked. Cockroach growls and whines.

"Where? Are? We? Going?" you yell at him, trying to get your voice above the bike's cackle. Your heart pounds wildly in your chest, coming up into your throat and dropping back down.

"Told you! You'll see!" Baji yells back. He hoots loudly, taking you into warp speed. Like a comet zipping through, you leave behind a trail of fading red tail light.

"Keisuke!" you shriek, holding onto him tightly. You can't even see how fast you're going, the surroundings blurring together in dark shadows, but Baji's back, his solid body, you feel as though there's nothing to fear. All of the wind is blocked by him. All of your troubles, he takes you away from.

Baji kicks the gears back down and slows the bike as he turns into an abandoned junkyard and empty warehouse. He kicks the side stand and parks the bike. Baji pulls his helmet off, shaking his head and whistles. "Alrighty, we're here." He slides the helmet off from your head and laughs at your helmet-messed hair. Positively adorable.

Your legs feel wobbly, almost unused to walking on ground at this slow speed after zipping through the night. Baji pulls out the bat again and gives it a few testing swings.

"This is—"

Baji swings his arms open and gestures to the tall mound of crushed cars piled on top of one another. The metallic smell of rusting metal is heavy in the air. "Welcome, my dear, to a place beyond wonderland! Man, haven’t been back here in years!"

Your arms are folded over your chest and you point out what the wonderland actually is. "A junkyard."

"A special one too," he remarks and swings the bat into the windows of one of the cars. The shattered glass falls down like fresh snow. "You wanna try? There's a lot of pent up shit from work, right?"

Baji leads you around the corner where there's a relatively whole car, probably recently abandoned.

"Is this...okay?" You're unsure, but you still reach for the handle anyways. The old grip tape sticks to your palms. It'll probably stink later.

"Legal? Hell, no. But the police don't really come here...usually." He rests an elbow on the car trunk and gestures to a tall pile of rusting metal. "You know what happened here?"

"You...smashed cars?"

He nods and grins, flashing his fangs. "Yep! And I also got stabbed here." He points at his waist, where a nasty scar can be found under his dark clothing.

Your jaw falls open and Baji's smirk turns even wider. "What?!"

"You know the whole Halloween ordeal when I was 15?"

"You mean..." You survey the junkyard, currently quiet and just a tinge creepy, and turn back to Baji. Waving your arm, drawing in the air with the bat to gesture the entire yard, you're baffled. "That happened here?!"

He nods. "Oh yea. A terribly, shitty day." Baji moves away and gives you full clearance to your prey. "Wanna help me rewrite those memories?"

"Isn't this supposed to be my stress-relief moment?" The grip on the bat tightens.

"Yours and mine." He shrugs. "We can take turns and—"

The passenger window shatters like windchimes in a storm along with your yell. And the car alarm blares and protests.

Baji's a little surprised by how much force you put into that swing, seeing that the side mirror is taken out too. A huge smile spreads on his face and he sits back to watch your little solo. "That's my girl."

Argh!! You scream while bringing the bat down on the hood, denting the shiny metal in a valley with nasty crimps. The nails on the bat screech horribly, clawing its way through the paint finish. It's painful to your ears and music to your soul. "FUUUUCKK!!!!"

Baji hoots off to the side and finds a pipe from the rubble pile. He runs over and steps onto the roof of the car, holding his hand out to help you to the top. You stand on the roof and raise the bat over your head. "I FUCKING HATE THIS! GO TO HELL, ALL YOU MOTHERFCKERS!!! AHHH!!!"

The bat swings down like a guillotine. The windshield cracks into an elaborate snowflake, the head of the bat buried in the thick glass. You try pulling it out, twisting and tugging. "Shit!" you furrow your brows, irritated and stomp angrily on the roof, shaking the half-destroyed vehicle.

"I got you." Baji wraps his large hands over yours on the bat. His back and shoulders caging you against his body. He squeezes and yanks hard to free the bat. Fragments of glass fly out. Baji brings the bat back. "Annnd, we swing again."

The windshield is defeated. The remnants are scattered all over the expensive leather interior. Ooh, nice red trim, Baji thinks.

"Keep going," Baji encourages while he hops off the roof.

You don't even notice that he's gone, finishing your handiwork on the back window too, tearing the wiper off and smashing into the trunk. When Baji comes back, holding a dark gallon tank, the car is pretty much—totaled—completely chewed up by the bat and your rage. Your shoulders and chest heave up and down. Sweat clings to your skin. It's so rare to see you completely out of your inhibitions. How sexy.

He's about to help you down from the roof when you leap off yourself instead. Very sexy.

"I'm done," you say meekly, and lean your forehead against Baji's shoulder. "Bleh, bleh, bleh..."

"Okay, before we go let's do a final act." He takes the bat out of your hands and gently leads you a few meters away from the car. "Close your eyes and make a wish."

"Huh?" you ask, looking back towards him. "Wish? It's not even my birthday."

"Just do it!" He nudges your back a little more and shoves a 1 yen coin into your palm. "No peeking!"

You follow his instructions and close your eyes. Clasping your hands together around the small metal coin in this abandoned junkyard—this corner where you can just do whatever the hell you want. No one watching, no one judging. No pretending, no hiding. No tradition to follow, no norm to fit in with. You make a wish for evolution, change, and rebirth.

Strength.

You toss the coin back.

BOOM.

Your eyes fly open and you whip around to see a mad inferno blazing. The mountain of fire, orange and red, erupts in an angry trail. Black plumes blow up and disappear into the night sky. Baji runs up to you, and grabs your hand, fingers intertwined with yours. "No encore needed, princess. Let's go!"

"You're crazy!" you yell, running with him across the empty lot. Maybe it's his knack for trouble infecting you, but you're laughing at the absurdity of it all.

Baji turns his head to look at you, face illuminated by the distant fire's glow. "Love you too!"

Blaring sirens sound in the distance.

"OMG, Keisuke?! It's the police?!"

He ushers you on to the seat and plops the helmet on your head.

"Ah, shit. Definitely time to go, not staying for the curtain call." He starts up Cockroach. "Hold on."

Your arms are secured around his waist again as the bike revs and takes off. "I thought you said they wouldn't come," you hiss.

"I said usually. Besides—" he nods towards the flaming bonfire"—there's that this time."

The bike darts through the night, escaping the sirens that are becoming quieter and quieter. There's routes and paths in these areas that none of the officers would know. But Baji knows them all by heart. He takes you across an old bridge, distant city lights flashing between the industrial beams.

The adrenaline from the night slowly washes away. Baji kicks the gears down into a lazy cruise, the concluding coda of the night. Baji feels your arms relax and disappear from his waist. You're leaning against the custom, sandan seat with the high back support, hands secured on the side handles. The wind carries the smell of Baji's hair and faint traces of smoke.

"Keisuke!"

"Yea?"

A cheerful bliss blooms on your face. "Just wanna say your name. Keisuke, Keisuke, Kei, Kei, Kei."

Baji laughs and revs Cockroach playfully to accompany the rhythm.

Deciding to spare further damage to poor Cock's engine, you quiet down and relax against his back again.

"Keisuke?"

"Hm?"

"Kinda hungry, let's make a stop before home."

"Okay."

"Teach me how to ride sometime?"

"O-Of course!" he blurts out eagerly.

A flurry of thoughts fly through Baji's mind: the perfect place for the first lesson, the kind of bike design and features that you would love. It'll be a really cute one, maybe not super fast, but just perfect—and safe. Oh, definitely safe. He's so taken into this tangent that he doesn't hear the playful words you're telling him afterwards. He barely catches the last bit of "thank you" that you whisper into his back.

The air is fresh and crisp as he takes you down paths that seem untraveled. Cutting into the unknown with him doesn't seem so intimidating at all. The early hours past midnight stretch long, still young. The world is in a sustained pause—it's just you and him. Baji revs the engine. And Cockroach. 

You open your eyes and see the expanse of the night sky with real stars twinkling in its blanket. Like a rocket burning into space with all its might earlier, and now you're in orbit.