#slashers pov

[2braincellslz]

Billy Loomis: tell him where he can stick her grapes.

Billy lenz: UP HER PU-

Billy loomis: BILLY!

[michaelinprogress]

Thinking about how this must have felt...

Being able to freely move his body again, to feel some semblance of life after over a century of lying in that grave rotting. Up to this point, he's been so stiff, lumbering around arduously. But this is where he becomes more man than corpse.

And the first thing he does with his newfound life?

He dances with Lisa.

He knows there is a piano inside. He could go in and play it for her, he could finally play music after nearly 200 years without it. But he dances with Lisa.

With his new life, all he wants to do is be with Lisa. To touch her, love her, make her happy. He has all this energy and he gives it all to her. Everything is for her.

[billsloomis1996]

AND I SHOULD TELL YOU

THAT I’LL MISS YOU

BUT I SIMPLY JUST DON’T CARE!

this is not a ship post!

[downtowncannibal]

agnes i er uh it's me billy

don't you er uh tell them what we did Agnes

[toxicbrothel]

I hope I’m not late for the brothel sleepover 🥹

POV

"Musta been out whorin'," Joel hypothetically grumbles like it doesn't turn him on. You called him for a ride in the middle of the night after slashing your own tire. Now you're back in his camper and coming to terms with the fact that it's the coziest you've felt this holiday season. You have a beer on the TV dinner stand and he's on the floor between your knees, a position you weren't sure you'd ever seen him in. He shoves his hand up your cutoff denim skirt and finds you're drenched. He digs his thick fingers into the diamonds of your fishnets and looks up at you darkly, then rips them open. He spreads your legs wider, folds the skirt all the way up, and rips the hole in your leggings even bigger. He squints as he thumbs your wet little hole, then slides his thumb up to your clit. Your chest flutters as his head descends between your legs, and your fingers slot into the soft, brown curls in your lap. You shiver and twitch as his tongue dips into your wet little hole. But it's only a taste. He palms himself and sits up to ask, "didn't let'em cum inside?"

[slicznymartwy]

I’m not sure if your comfortable with it, but if it’s alright, can I request Billy Lenz and the reader (established relationship) having some sort of conversation on his past and the reader comforting him?

this one is rlly sad im sorry :(( this is mostly hc since i've only ever watched the original 1974 film, so idk if this lines up with the canon from the other movies. from what i know about it, i think it's similar. no mention of agnes in this warning: sa of a minor mention, please do not read if that bothers you. also, reader insert was abused/beaten by their mom. very sad take care of yourselves please

☾⋆⁺₊ billy lenz x gn!reader

Night fills your bedroom and coats itself on the floors and walls, except for where the yellow streetlamp spills in past your curtains. Sparing a glance to the alarm clock on your bedside table, you see the time is so late it could already be considered early. 

Still, you can’t think about sleep; not when Billy is laying beside you and the house is blissfully empty, two things so rare that it almost seems serendipitous. You’re not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, so you keep staring at the ceiling and let the warmth of his body radiate into yours.

“Billy,” you whisper into the quiet room. “Are you asleep?”

You can hear him grunt and squirm beside you, and you feel bad for waking him. It wasn’t often he got a full night’s rest on a bed, and you knew for a fact that there was no mattress in the attic. There were only so many chances to have Billy and the house all to yourself, though, and you don’t want to squander it.

“Billy,” you say again, nudging him with your foot.

He grunts again, but it sounds more cognisant than before. He reaches over himself to pat your arm, almost like he’s quieting down a noisy cat, and you can feel his hand trail down to your own. His palm covers the back of your hand, and he threads his fingers in between yours, curling them down together. 

It’s a gesture so sweet that you’re tempted to let him fall back asleep. There’s no helping your addiction to him, though, and you tighten your fingers on top of his.

“I’m not tired,” you say with a pout. “I wanna talk.”

This time, Billy groans, low and long. You think it might be out of annoyance, but you can feel him stretching out beside you, straightening his long legs underneath the covers. He huffs when he’s done, eyes blinking open.

You love his pretty eyes, an orangey amber that you were always getting lost in, no matter how unsettling they could be. It always felt like he was staring into you, like he could see the marrow in your bones.

You loved his intensity. It made you feel alive when the rest of the world was tired and grey.

“Hi,” you say, reaching over with you unoccupied hand to touch his jaw. “I didn’t ask before. How was your day?”

He’s quiet for a long time, and you wonder if he can fall asleep with his eyes open, but then he says, “Bad.” 

The word hangs in the air. Billy’s face gives up nothing, a blank page with no words of his own to say. You frown and pull your hand back from his face to rest on your own chest. The other stays in his hold, neither of you willing to let go.

“I’m sorry. Do you want to talk about it?” you ask, although it doesn’t surprise you when Billy shakes his head against your pillow.

“Okay.” You squeeze against his fingers again, pulling gently on his arm so that it rested more heavily on top of you. The bedroom air is quiet, but your mind continues to race. It’ll be good for him to get it off his chest, you tell yourself.

“Is it something old or something new?”

He thinks about your words for a while, but then you hear him mutter, “Old.”

“Bad memories?” you ask, looking back at him. He blinks at you, then nods.

“I get bad memories, too.” You lean against him slightly, and glance up at the ceiling. “From when you were a kid?”

This time, Billy shrugs. You know you shouldn’t push him, but your heart aches to see him hurt and to not have the rememdy.

You turn around and let go of him for only a moment. You search for his hand again, this time with the opposite one to press your hands together, palm to palm. Your fingers entwine so easily, so naturally, that it makes your heart ache.

Maybe he just needs to know he’s not alone in whatever bullshit he’s had to endure in his life. Maybe it will help to know that you have bad memories too.

“My mom used to hit me,” you admit quietly. You stare at the way your hands mesh together, with your nails polished and Billy’s own chewed up. “She used to take my stepdad’s belt and hit me with it. Used to just be the leather part, but then she would swing the buckle at me too. She broke a tooth, but it was just a baby one. My adult teeth grew in alright.”

You keep your voice casual as you speak, because facts are facts, and there’s no reason to get upset about something you can’t change anymore. Besides, you reminesce about your childhood so infrequently that it feels like it all happened to another person. 

You remember the beatings like you’re watching it happen to someone else – something else, because you don’t feel bad for them when they can’t sit at school because of the welts on their ass. You don’t bat an eye when their mom has to take them to the doctor to reset their broken nose.

“Bitch,” Billy spits out from beside you, and you have to laugh at the venom dripping in his voice.

“I don’t talk to her anymore,” you tell him, smiling sadly. You glance at him, but it’s hard to look at the mean look on his face. It probably isn’t for you, but your mind is traitorous and too sensitive.

Even worse, Billy could be mad on your behalf. No, you can’t think about that either, not when you’ve spent so long pretending that it didn’t really happen.

“Anyways. All that to say, I know what it’s like, having bad memories. You don’t have to tell me, just… I’m here for you,” you say, running your thumb along his hand where they’re still locked together.

“Want to,” he mutters, voice croaking unnaturally as he speaks in his own voice.

Quietly, you release his hand and instead wrap yourself around him, laying partially on top. He lets out a heavy sigh as you settle, with your arm coming up to rest by his head and your same-side leg resting over his hips. He watches the ceiling, and you watch his face from where you lay your ear to his chest

“Bad billy. Disgusting,” he mutters, and you pet his cheek with the back of your hand.

“I don’t think so.” You keep your voice careful and quiet, but he sighs and its agitated. Pent up memories start to overfill, and you can see it on his face.

“Mommy,” he starts, but his voice breaks and he coughs to clear his throat. “Mom. Fucking hate her. I hate her. Stupid fucking slut. She’s disgusting. Not me. Not Billy.”

You take your hand away from his face, watching how his expression continues to contort, mixing between anger and disgust and fear. It wrenches your heart in your chest.

“You’ve been so good, Billy. You’re not disgusting.”

“I hate her. I hate her,” he chants again. “Oh, Billy! Shut up!”

When he says his own name, it sounds like a feminine moan. You almost don’t understand, but the implication dawns on you only a moment later. It’s not difficult to piece it all together: his rage, the names he calls himself, the moan. You feel sick.

“Hey, we can stop,” you try gently, but Billy either doesn’t hear you or doesn’t want to stop.

“No one needs to know, Billy. Be a good boy.” You can’t look at his face anymore, the ugly way it scrunches up hurts you down to you core. Guilt claws at you from inside, and you wish you knew the right thing to say but you don’t. The truth, you decide, is enough for now.

“I hate her, too,” you tell him, and it sounds a little wet. You don’t let yourself cry, but your heart breaks for a younger Billy, afraid and confused. 

“That’s my mom,” he says. You don’t know what he’s trying to convey when he says that – if he wants you to pity her, or if he’s sharing his betrayal with you. He whines, a painfully soft noise that gets trapped in his throat.

Gently, carefully, you card your fingers through his hair where you can reach, and you kiss his shoulder.

“She’s gone. She can’t hurt you anymore,” you tell him, although you don’t know if it’s true. You do know that, as long as you’re by his side, there’s no way you’ll let that woman touch him again.

“I wish I could kill her,” he says through clenched teeth. His voice is thick, like he might be crying. You can’t bare to look. Billy’s grief melts into you like it’s thermodynamics, heat into cold, and you can only hope that you can take some of his and ease his mind.

“How would you do it?” you whisper, pressing your hand over his hammering chest.

“Cut… cut her head off. Smash it like a pumpkin. Oh, Billy! Good boy, Billy. Shut up!” His voice breaks when he shouts. He coughs, then gasps for air, his breath shaking as he fights against the tightenness in his throat. “I’ll turn her teeth into pumpkin seeds,” he snarls.

Without warning, you move yourself to lay completely on top of him, pressing against his body with your body weight. He groans, and you’re sure you must be squishing him, but he doesn’t complain. In fact, his arms come up around you, hooked under your arms and pressing you against him with his hands at your shoulders.

“I’ve got you,” you tell him, pressing your face against his neck. “You’re okay now. It’s just us in here. Just me and you.”

“I hate her,” he whimpers again. “I hate her. I hate her.”

You don’t say anything, because you don’t think there are any words that could possible take away his hurt without also being a complete lie. Underneath your body, you can feel Billy start to relax, grounded back to reality from the rotten memories playing in his head.

“I’m sorry today was a bad day. We can have a good one tomorrow,” you say. It’s an impossible thing to promise, but you mean it like one. You’ll make sure Billy has a good day, whether fate wants it or not.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll kill your mom too.”

“Thank you,” you say. You kiss his temple, and he leans into your lips.

© slicznymartwy 2023, please do not repost or copy.

a/n: reblogs and replies are really appreciated

[queer-wizard]

I am experiencing severe levels of brain rot <3

[littlecorpselady]

Pov: Lester sinclairs☆

[syncast-err0r]

during the whole post s2 montage or whatever, it's revealed that gabriel and beelzebub actually live in a cottage in North Downs, being their resident cryptids and functioning in worse ways than crowley and aziraphale could ever manage, and that's just them not trying

their entire house has rooms that are either completely empty or fully thrashed. these two idiots didn't even bother with trying to seem human. the house just spawned out of nowhere and they don't even bother with humans' memories they literally do not give a fuck. there's no bathroom, no bedroom. however there is a dungeon. neither of them ever sleep so they're just walking around at night for funsies. they're awful. their neighbors at least are grateful because flies refuse to enter anywhere else aside from the bureaucracy house (house is a strong word) just bc beelzebub is nearby. fuck it. they have several floors which can only be accessed from the inside, meaning it looks like it only has one floor from the outside. they have a garden and for some reason it's full of the worst smelling plants to attract flies but also they don't smell at all because gabriel was like nah n beelzebub was like fair enough

do u guys see my vision. do u

[2braincellslz]

Tw: abusive relationships

[blueiight]

MKUltra the Vampire. im sure THAT wont be revisited later on this season

[venusararara]

what happened to my fingers?

i took them.

why?

why? look at me.

do you hate me?

im still deciding. not sure yet

do you still like me?

i dont think i do.

...

maybe!

what?! you dont mean that!!

[solivagantingrebel]

Local man! (me) forgets that they love writing from Ghost's pov and starts another fic from Soap's pov. They (me) will learn nothing from this.

[bluejaysandblackbats]

Bloody Valentines

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam, Young Justice 98, Titans, GL Corps, Legion of Super Heroes, Flashfam, New Gods

Summary: 90s vampire slasher AU

Chapters: 2/?

Characters: Dick Grayson, Joseph Wilson, Jason Todd, Charley Parker, Zatanna, Eddie Bloomberg, Daniel Cassidy, Chester Williams DC, Guy Gardner, Kyle Rayner, Lilith Clay, Raven Roth, Kole Weathers, Bette Kane, Donna Troy, Roy Harper, Jenni Ognats, Bart Allen, Virgil Hawkins, Richie Foley, Ayla Ranzz, Zoe Saugin, Rol Purtha, Darla Aquista, Lori Zechlin, Hal Jordan, Helen Jordan II, Orion DC, Lightray DC

Relationships: DickJoey, Daniel Cassidy/Zatanna, Jenni Ognats/Virgil Hawkins, Raven/Lilith Clay

Additional Tags: POV First Person, Unreliable Narrator(s), Vampires, No Capes AU, 90s Slasher AU, Homoeroticism, Horror, Slasher

Chapter Two: The Premonition (Charley's POV)

I sat on the roof, smoking while I waited for Jason to page me. He didn't like me smoking around him, so I tried to smoke before and after we hung out. I gave myself enough time to shower and change clothes if I needed to. He never complained, but I knew he preferred I didn't smell like I just smoked a bowl when we hung out.

I met him through Eddie a few years back, and he seemed chill. A little weird, but we were all kind of strange. I was new to Jersey, but he welcomed me in and made me feel like I fit in there, even though I didn't. I didn't stay on the roof long because it was freezing out.

I showered and changed clothes before grabbing my keys to head out. Jason came in the door with an empty suitcase. "We're going," Jason announced, "We're going to Happy Harbor this weekend."

I burped smoke and apologized before plopping on the couch. Jason said a lot of weird crap, but I chalked that up to brain damage. He'd been having premonitions about his brother, and he told me something loomed just outside the gates of the immortal. I didn't know what it meant, but I don't think he did either. Jason washed his hands and poured a glass of milk. "Why are we going to Happy Harbor?" I asked.

"Because my brother is at the center of the disturbance... And he's going. Do you wanna come?" Jason asked. I shrugged and nodded. "Do you?"

"Yeah, yeah. I'll come... Jason, did you sleep here last night, man?" I asked. He shook his head. Sometimes he didn't sleep, and he'd drive around. He'd been like that since I met him. I met him in the kitchen, took a frozen pizza out of the fridge, and slapped it onto a pan. Jason sighed and took the pizza out of the box before placing it in the oven.

Most people would think two people like us shouldn't live together, but I think I reminded him of somebody. And I liked having somebody around that didn't treat me like a freak. He also didn't lose it when he walked in on me with some guy I met, in flagrante delicto, as one of the Sisters of Mercy would call it. I call it the Lotus.

Actually, that was recent. I tried to hide the fact that I preferred to drive a stick from time to time, but it was always hard to hide it from the people I lived with. Jason was different, though. When the guy left, I collected myself and tried to explain, but he shrugged it off and said he'd seen worse. So, sue me if I don't judge the guy for his hallucinations.

"I drove up to Blüdhaven to see my brother. He got in right before I got ready to leave. I waited for him all night... You should probably start packing tonight. We leave tomorrow morning so we can beat my brother there," Jason mumbled. I sat down and pulled my hair into a bun.

I didn't tell him what to do unless I thought he was doing something dangerous, so I didn't give him my opinion on the whole vacation thing. Besides, I wanted to get out of Gotham for the weekend, and Happy Harbor sounded like a relaxing vacation spot. "Jay, what's the weather like?" I asked. I laughed involuntarily and ran a hand over my face to pull myself together.

"It's in Rhode Island, so I imagine it's freezing. The hottest it gets up there is eighty," Jason answered, "And it's the middle of fall, so I wouldn't bank on it being a nice sunny seventy out there."

I forgot how sarcastic he could be when he wasn't having premonitions. I didn't hate it, though. I think that was his way of telling people he was okay. Jason wasn't a touchy-feely emotional guy, but neither was I, so it worked. "Your brother's gonna be okay," I whispered. I didn't have any siblings, so I didn't understand all the feelings surrounding him and his brother. Whenever I saw them together, I thought they hated each other.

"I got you a suitcase... Charley, remember to pack. We leave at six tomorrow morning," Jason explained. I zoned out after that, but I think he was monologuing. I came to when I smelled the pizza he'd taken out of the oven, and I watched as Jason took a slice for himself. I blinked hard and started eating.

There was something so sensual about the first bite of food after a smoke. I shut my eyes and made a soft noise as I ate the crust first. Jason chuckled. He didn't like me smoking, but he got a kick out of me eating after a smoke. "I've never seen anyone eat a pizza ass first before," Jason laughed.

"Listen-." I fell into a fit of laughter mid-sentence. "Ass first?"

"Yeah, because the crust fucking sucks. No one eats the worst part first," Jason cracked up. I hate to say it, but he was cute when he smiled. I always wanted to go there with Jason because he felt safe, but I never got any indication that he was anything other than straight. Besides, it never would've worked. Jason had a lot going on in his head, and I did too. He was a for life type, and I was more of a for the night type. I was bummed after that because I stopped laughing and returned to my large pizza in silence. About an hour after I ate, I took a nap and packed for our trip.

Jason took his shower and fell asleep on the couch, where he talked in his sleep. I tried to ignore it because some of the stuff he said in his sleep made me feel paranoid. But this time, it was different. Worse. Jason tossed and turned on the couch so roughly that I sat on the floor in front of him to keep him from falling. He grabbed my shoulder in his sleep and scared the shit out of me. "Stay out of the water. Stay out," Jason moaned, "Charley. The water." A chill ran up my spine, and he shot up, panting as he searched around the room.

"Jason... Jason," I whispered as I grabbed his wrist. "Jason, are you-."

Jason jumped off the couch and into my arms. I never saw him that emotional before. It freaked me out. "Please don't swim this weekend, Charley. Promise me you won't swim," Jason begged. I hesitantly rubbed his back to calm him down, but I was as scared as he was. Jason held on so tight my back cracked. Oh yeah, I forgot to say the dude was jacked. Thick neck, giant biceps, built like a fucking tank.

"If I promise to stay away from the water this weekend, will you let go of me?" I asked. Jason let go and nodded. He had to pull himself together, but I was still spooked. "I promise... And next time you call my name like that in your sleep, I'm gonna need you to take me out to dinner, Kid." Jason chuckled and shook his head. "Why'd you want me to come with you tomorrow? Be real with me."

"We'll all be together... I think we'll be alright if we stay together," Jason whispered. He stood up and walked away before hiding his face in his hands. "I've never had one that vivid before... Charley, please don't forget what you promised me... Please don't forget."

I felt terrible for him. Eddie said he wasn't always like that. Before the accident, Eddie said he wasn't as fearful. Everyone warned me not to listen to his delusions or feed into them, but his instincts were good, and he'd never been wrong before about the normal-sounding stuff. It was more than reasonable for me to believe that staying out of the water in an area where it'd be freezing out was a solid warning.

Jason paced back and forth by the fire escape, and my hands shook as I tried to pull myself together for him. We couldn't both be scared. I owed it to him to be the brave one for once. If I owed anybody anything, it was Jason. "Jason, c'mere. Stop-. Stop pacing and look for a minute. Nothing's gonna happen to me because I'm gonna listen to you," I reassured him. Jason nodded, but I could see his mind was already made up. He looked like he wanted to cry. It was like I was already gone. I'd never seen him like that. It was weird and fucked up, and I dreaded the trip ahead. I was so fucked up over it that I couldn't even think to smoke. Instead, I decided to keep my head straight until we got to the Harbor on Saturday. I thought it'd give us both some peace of mind. Still, I didn't think Jason would sleep after that. There was no way. And there was no way he'd be able to drive on forty-five minutes of sleep. Relaxing trip, my ass.

[littlecorpselady]

Coney island baby

House of wax fanfic - part 3

Content: Stockholm syndrome, mentions of Vincent, mostly focused on readers mindset tbh

Note- didn't really proofread sooo :p

You spent hours scrubbing just as you did wandering around. The walls around weren't as grimy or old as the last ones but they still confined you. Just in a bigger space. It was hard to tell what bothered you more, the silence or the isolation. Besides the odd run in with Vincent, you have yet to see anybody else. The odd attempt to try to interact with Vincent when he isn't busy wasn't worth the silent glare you received in return. It was hard to tell whether or not the silence was a choice or something permanent. It wasn't like you cared all that much anyway, coping was just difficult. Said coping consisted of reading one of the multiple books laid around the house, usually the cover had to be dusted off first or scrubbing at the hard woods blood stains. Occasionally though, youd flip through the old Polaroids to get the picture of Bos upbringing. They displayed various general activities, playing on the piano and with legos along side his brother but the stuff you found told a different story. Specially the highchairs in the museum, something you stumbled upon whilst Bo worked on a broken light in the other room. The restraints were painted with dry blood and scratch marks. It was easy to put the pieces together, the highchairs spoke enough volumes for themselves.

The heavy sound of the gravel crunching outside, snaps you hard into reality again. Interrupting your session of daydreaming as the front door swings open and in steps a disgruntled Bo. The door is kicked shut behind him without being locked, not really necessary anyway considering the circumstances.

It's hard to tell whether or not he noticed you or he's just plain ignoring you but Bo walks right past into the kitchen. His hand clings to his side where blood seeps through the overalls. The grumbles are followed up by several curses as he sloppily tends to it. Pouring disinfectant on it and soon yanking open drawers until he finds the painkillers. From a distance it was hard not to watch, it was a sight you would have soaked in happily just not too long ago. Now you couldn't help but feel a pang of pity tug at you watching him like this. Almost tempting enough to offer help, maybe reassurance. Almost. Instead just watching as he stumbles off out of sight to do god knows what. Nowadays all you did was watch, sit idly by the side lines taking in whatever bo did. Watching him chase down tourists from the living room window or sometimes when you were allowed in the garage watching him work under a rusty old car. Not only did you watch but you also admired him. It was hard not to at times even if you forced your own thoughts to shame yourself for it. No amount of shame could stop these thoughts from flowing through. It was almost a infection, disgusting and spreading. It spread rapidly, each day becoming harder to cope with reality. It was too much to accept at times. Sometimes despite the shame which followed, it was just so much easier to let your eyes squeeze shut. Pretend there was nothing wrong, nothing off with your life. The warm sheets of his bed feeding into your delusion, the strong scent of his cologne and the lingering cigarette smell.

He disappeared that night to go smoke away the pain in his side. Slowly blowing the smoke out and watching it fade off into nothing. Shifting his focus to watching the pale night sky as you settled down besides him, unsure and slow. His eyes only flicker over momentarily before returning to the sky. Barely a recognising the presence settled by his side but enough to let you know you were atleast acknowledged this time around. Clasping your palms together tightly and following his mindless gaze, the few seconds passing by begins to feel stretched out. Nothing interrupts the silence either, atleast not until the cigarette is stubbed out and he rises to his feet. "Comin' in?" After a moment, you nod and rise up to your feet as well. The porch light flickering off with the flip of the switch and Bos hand ushering you inside. Resting on your lower back before sliding over to your side and pulling you close besides him. Instead of his hand leaving a clinging cold mark, his touch felt almost warm. Warm enough to be mistaken for tenderness, the sweet embrace of being loved.