#tapes from the darkside

[xenogemini]

Monster Mash!

[askthedarksidersfam]

The work benefits for the Horsemen probably suuuuuuuck

[ladykailitha]

Around the World Part 3

Hey guys!! Thank you to all who have liked, commented, and reblogged this fun story!

We're in Utah for a little while longer as both Eddie and Steve fun fan encounters.

Part 1 Part 2

~

It took them a couple of tries at a few stores to get them everything they needed to dress up. But when they got everything, they all piled into Robin and Chrissy’s hotel room to get changed.

Chrissy bit her lip as she looked at Steve. “I mean it’s what he looks like, but it could be anyone, you know?”

Robin nodded. “If we had like green makeup or something that we could put on his fingers and neck, then we could make it look like he’s about to transform.”

“Oh I know!” Chrissy said, snapping her fingers. “There’s this green concealer stuff that when you put it on bruises and shit it hides it really well, but on normal skin it’s very green.”

Steve pursed his lips together and silent walked to his overnight bag that had all his toiletries in it. He rummaged around in it for a moment and then tossed something at Chrissy, who caught it deftly in her hands.

She looked at the object. It was the concealer she was talking about, she opened it to find it half used. She looked up at Steve who was a deep shade of red and Eddie who looked like a kicked puppy.

“Why do you have this, Steve?” she asked slowly, turning the bottle between her forefinger and thumb.

Steve coughed and turned away, absentmindedly scratching his cheek. “So you know how on tour we had to make sure that people didn’t think Eddie and me were a couple?”

“Yeah?” Chrissy said, tilting her head to the side.

“Oooh, gross!” Robin cried. “No, no, no.” When Chrissy didn’t catch on, she huffed, “it’s for hickeys. Hickeys from his boyfriend!”

Chrissy’s eyes went wide and her jaw dropped. “Are you seriously telling me that you have been covering up hickeys from Eddie for almost a year?!”

Steve straightened and said quite proudly, “My boyfriend is very bitey. I think it’s cute.” Then it was Eddie’s turn to go bright red. He shoved his hair in front of his mouth to hide the blush.

“I like biting,” Eddie quoted with a shy smile, “it’s like kissing bu there’s a winner.”

Steve kissed his cheek. “So let’s get all the mocking and teasing out of the way now, but because once we exit this hotel room, it is no longer a valid thing to tease Eddie with.”

“Or Steve!” Eddie added, glaring at a Robin with a mischievous grin.

“You’re no fun!” she huffed, but folded when Chrissy put a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Fine, I won’t tease you two about needing fucking concealer because you two are hornier than dogs in heat.”

Eddie deflated. “I just get carried away sometimes. Especially when I haven’t seen him in awhile because we’re supposed to be ‘keeping our distance’ or whatever.” He used air quotes around the phrase.

Chrissy crumpled too. She was all ready to tease them too, but looking at them now, both of them looking so crestfallen, she just couldn’t do it. Because of who Eddie was and who Steve sometimes was, they had to hide their relationship.

“Come on,” she said gently, “let’s get this put on you so we call all go to this convention.”

Steve nodded and followed her into the bathroom to get made up.

~

Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Chrissy all paid for their day badges and slipped into the convention center. Steve was immediately overwhelmed. He had played to sold out stadiums, but that couldn’t hold a candle to sheer amount of people milling about. Mostly because there was a barrier between him and the people.

They could see all sorts of cosplayers wandering around the halls. Some in crappy little homemade stuff with cardboard and duck tape. Others in minimal effort costumes like they were. Then there were the people in cosplays that must have taken weeks, if not months to make. Warhammer space marines, a Krogan, and War from Darksiders, Hela from Marvel, a nine tailed fox, complete with hand dyed kimono.

They saw a couple of people dressed as angels from that one long running TV show. Then they passed a booth that proudly displayed that they were the Salt Lake City chapter of the Ghostbusters. Complete with their own Echo 1.

What really cinched it though was passing the main stairs and seeing all Scooby-Doo gang people taking group pictures on them.

“Um,” Chrissy said, walking backwards looking at all the Daphnes, all the Freds and Scaggys, all the Velmas and a handful of Scooby-doos. “You don’t suppose that the cars we saw at the McCune mansion were cosplayers, do you?

Robin and Steve shared a glance.

“Maybe,” Eddie said, “but I don’t think I’m willing to take that bet, how about you?”

Chrissy shook her head and whirled around to start walking forward. Maybe it was only cosplayers taking photos, but maybe it wasn’t and like Eddie said not a bet she was willing to make.

Everyone liked their costumes, especially Steve’s.

Eddie was more than a little pleased that he was getting attention as himself and not as Abbadon.

Steve’s highlight was seeing four friends dress up as The Fallen.

“Guys!” he said excitedly, pointing at the four people walking toward them. “The Fallen! I didn’t know people cosplayed as them.”

The guy playing Astraeus stopped. “Are you a fan of The Fallen, too?”

Robin and Chrissy grinned behind his back as he blushed.

“Yeah, you can say that,” Steve said shyly. “I’m really digging the Abbadon costume, though.” He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Can I give you a tip about the crop top, though?”

They all looked around at each other. Faux Abbadon shrugged. “I guess. Thanks for asking first, though.”

Steve smiled broadly. “Yay!” He turned to Chrissy. “Do have safety pins in your purse?”

She blinked at him in confusion. “Why would I have safety pins in my purse?”

“You have safety pins in your purse, right?” he said turning to Robin.

She already had two of them out and held them up. “Of course I do, I’m not a savage!”

“See?” Steve said waving at Robin. “I just assumed that all lesbians kept safety pins in their purse.” He turned back the Faux Abbadon. “Ignore them. I usually do.”

The cosplayers chuckled as the girls squawked in indignation.

He walked up to the Faux Abbadon. “Can I touch your jacket?” The cosplayer nodded. Steve opened it on the one side. “I think the jacket is my favorite part by the way, the construction is really spot on.”

“Thank you,” Faux Abbadon said, “it took me almost a year to make it.”

“All right,” he said, taking the safety pin, “the trick is to pin the sides of the crop top the inside of the jacket.” He pinned both sides. “And of course remembering it’s pinned so you don’t rip the crop top.” He straightened the jacket so it fell naturally.

The dude looked down in shock. “That’s how you get the look! Holy shit. I couldn’t figure out how it seemed slope on the sides, but I could tell it wasn’t cut that way.”

“There you go!” Steve said brightly. He turned to the Faux Astraeus who had stopped in the first place. “To brag a little, I was an EMT on their last tour, I could tell you the kind of paint and shade he uses.”

They guy brought his hands to his mouth as he gasped. “There’s no way!”

Steve told him about it. He even talked to the other two about their costumes and gave them suggestions about making it better.

The four Faux Fallen walked away happily chatting about what outfits they were going to try making next time.

“That was sweet of you,” Robin said, “but aren’t you worried that with their insider information that’ll use it to pretend to be the band?”

Steve tilted his head to the side and then looked back at the direction the cosplayers went. “Those guys?” he asked with a chuckle. “No. They’re just good fans. We have trackers in our phones and if someone posts that they’re us, Vickie will shut it down so fast they’ll heads will spin.”

Chrissy and Robin exchanged concerned glances, as managers, they knew that it wasn’t that simple. But they didn’t want to take away his joy, so they wisely kept their mouths shut.

They looked around and realized that they were down one Eddie Munson.

“Shit,” Chrissy muttered. “I should’ve been keeping a better eye on him.”

Steve pulled out his phone to call him when Robin spotted him at a nearby artist’s booth, happily chatting with the artist and as they got closer they could see why. It was covered in Corroded Coffin fan art. Like really good fan art. Like hire her to do the next album cover, good.

As they got close they could hear what they were talking about.

“I’ll take two of the 11x18 of the whole band, please,” he said with a grin.

As she handed them to him in clear plastic liners, she said, “I swear I’ve heard your voice before, have we met?”

Eddie shook his head and pulled out one of the pictures. “Have you got a Sharpie?”

She rummaged around and found one to hand to him. He signed it right next to her signature and then handed it back to her with an even bigger grin. He lowered his sunglasses and whispered, “I just have one request, post the pic and the selfie after you get back to the hotel.”

“What selfie?” she asked before her brain caught up with who this was.

He grabbed her phone and turned on the camera. He switched to selfie mode and took off his cap to smile broadly for the camera. He snapped a couple of good shots and then handed it back to her.

She looked at the phone for a moment and then signed picture. She glanced up to see he was back incognito. And then it clicked. She started flapping her hands excitedly and squealing on a register that would probably make dogs run for under the sofa.

“None of my friends are going to believe me,” she leaned forward and whispered. “Even with photographic proof.”

Eddie cackled. “I’ll be sure to like it, so be sure and tag me, okay?”

She nodded holding the picture to her chest. She immediately put in a sleeve and then put her purse on top of it. “I think I would rather have my purse stolen than that picture if I’m honest.”

Eddie just winked at her and came lopping back over to his friends. “We need to hurry because any second now she’s going to realize that I paid her for a signed picture and not the other way round.”

They started walking away quickly and just before the blended into the crowd they heard the artist squawk loudly.

“Move faster,” Eddie quoted, “must move faster.”

Laughingly, they made their escape. They continued their day, Eddie making out of the con before he was papped by someone on the street as they got into their Uber. So by the time word got out, Eddie was long gone. Chrissy was very happy to report to the con heads that catastrophe averted.

Then that night as Eddie and Steve were curled up together on their hotel room bed, Eddie liked the artist’s tweet and Instagram posts and confirmed he was there. She admonished him for paying to sign her artwork, but only in good fun. Steve posted his own con experience. #lookwhoimet #thefallen #notreally #justsomereallyawesomecosplayers. Within moments all his bandmates liked and retweeted the post.

Robin in all her chaotic glory retweeted it from The Fallen’s official account. Steve almost felt sorry for them. But not quite.

~

Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9

Tag List: CLOSED

1- @mira-jadeamethyst @rozzieroos @itsall-taken @redfreckledwolf @zerokrox-blog

2- @gregre369 ​@a-little-unsteddie @chaosgremlinmunson @messrs-weasley @val-from-lawrence

3- @goodolefashionedloverboi @carlyv @wonderland-girl143-blog @irregular-child @blondie1006

4- @yikes-a-bee @bookworm0690 @anne-bennett-cosplayer @awkwardgravity1 @littlewildflowerkitten

5- @genderless-spoon @y4r3luv @dragonmama76 @ellietheasexylibrarian @thedragonsaunt

6- @disrespectedgoatman @dawners @thespaceantwhowrites @tinyplanet95 @garden-of-gay

7- @iamthehybrid @croatoan-like-its-hot @papergrenade @cryptid-system @counting-dollars-counting-stars

8- @ravenfrog @w1ll0wtr33 @child-of-cthulhu @kultiras @dreamercec

9- @machete-inventory-manager @useless-nb-bisexual @stripey82 @dotdot-wierdlife @kal-ology

10- @sadisticaltarts @urkadop @chameleonhair @clockworkballerina

[eoieopda]

blindsided (myg)

After years of dating, you thought you had Min Yoongi all figured out - you didn't. And when he flipped the script on you, you never saw it coming.

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Fem!Reader | Darksided AU Type: Sequel to darksided. Word Count: 6K Content: SMUT (18+ - Minors DNI,) established relationship au, POV switch, softbf!yoongi turned dom!yoongi, sub!reader, sex tape, oral sex (f receiving,) v fingering, p in v penetration, unprotected sex, squirting, multiple orgams, over-stimulation, spanking, biting, blindfold, praise kink, pussy slapping, general depravity, aftercare, fried chicken. A/N: Seriously, go read darksided (linked above) if you haven't yet. This takes place approx. two weeks later, and while the context isn't necessary, things will make more sense! Check out the playlist while you’re here. Tags: @exhibitachol @sstarryoong @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @miraculous-disaster @wakeupinahaze

For the first time in his life, Yoongi was avoiding his studio.

He had a mountain of work left to do on his mixtape – and, importantly, the drive to finish it – but that was precisely why he’d stayed away. Anytime he stepped foot inside over the past two weeks, his mind wandered far, far away from the task at hand. His previously unyielding discipline fell by the wayside the second he crossed the threshold.

Instead of focusing on the tracks he had yet to write, or perfecting the ones he'd already recorded, his eyes would roam over the surface of his desk on the other side of the room. It'd since been returned to its usual state, covered in various notebooks, and recording equipment. But it looked so much better with your bare, sweat-slicked body writhing on top of it.

And when he'd finally muster the willpower to look back at his computer, his gaze would pass over - and then jerk back to - the wall he’d pinned you against as his fingers fucked a river out of you. His blood pressure would spike as he pictured you there, relying on him to hold you upright, and any hope of accomplishing anything would drop dead on the floor.

The very same floor you’d fastidiously scrubbed to erase the mess he’d made of you, no less.

And then he’d think to himself: This isn’t a workspace anymore - it’s holy ground. 

Yoongi was running out of time, though, and he had to do his best to keep his mind on his work, off of you. Catching himself once again rewinding through recent memories, he let out a groan and forced his wandering eyes back to the screen in front of him.

He realized as he scrolled through his editing software that he’d done a piss-poor job of labeling his masters lately. This, of course, made it impossible for him to remember which track was which. On a whim, he chose the file in the middle of the folder and brought it up.

If he’d paid attention to the size of the file, he could’ve prepared himself for the consequences of pressing ‘play' - but he didn’t and he wasn't. 

“I really couldn’t love you more if I tried.” "Should I shut it off now until you're ready to start?" "I can cut it down. I do need you to cue the track, though - when I signal you."

Biting down hard on his bottom lip, he secured his headphones over his ears. He’d never been less interested in hearing his own music; so, without a second thought, he skipped over the next three minutes. As he did, his hand dropped down to palm his hardening dick through his jeans.

“Is it me, baby? Have I got you dizzy?”

Your little whimpers were barely audible in the recording, but they still managed to ignite a fire in the pit of his stomach. The blaze spread throughout his body when he pictured the way you looked below him then - so soft and shy, but with such carnal desire sparking in the dark of your eyes.

“I can’t give you what you want if you can’t tell me what that is.”

Anticipating your next line, his hand tensed around his cock. It was a pale imitation of that vice grip he found between your thighs, but it was something; and he would've taken anything.

“I don’t want you to be gentle with me. I - I know that you -”

Even caged between the walls of unimaginable heat, the irony of it all wasn't lost on him. The best recording he'd ever produced was created purely by accident -

“Stupid girl. You know nothing.”

- and it wasn't music at all.

“Get up.”

With Yoongi working hard on his creative pursuits, you begrudgingly committed to addressing your own. Like him, you had a to-do list long enough to circle the globe; but unlike him, you weren't buried in projects because you wanted to be. 

When Yoongi crossed off a task, he scribbled five more in its place. His mind never idled because he found inspiration everywhere. A half-remembered vignette from childhood that shook itself loose to become something beautiful. A word he encountered in passing that he’d transform into some modern-day epic. He generated this much work solely because his passion - like his potential - was limitless. 

To the contrary, you generated this much work because you were easily distracted. You’d start one project, and before you could finish it, your attention would flutter off on the wind like dandelion seeds. All those half-starts would stockpile until you eventually boxed yourself into a corner - and then, somehow, you'd keep stacking. 

Today's task was simple: you needed to transfer your recent photos from your camera's memory card to your laptop. Easy. Drag files from one folder to another, and then your contribution to this month's magazine spread would be finished. It should've only taken an hour - at most - for the upload to complete. 

Instead of doing what you intended, you ended up where you always did: happily lost in the weeds. This particular distraction was a folder from four years ago, when Yoongi took you on an anniversary trip to Paris. If you really had to defend this tangent, your scattered brain's game of word association wasn't far off - the photos you were supposed to tend to were from Paris Fashion Week. 

That counts for something, right? 

You snorted as you toggled through your archive. Had you taken a single photo of the stunning architecture, or countless historical sites you’d visited? Of course not. But you had snapped approximately one-hundred shots of an unaware Min Yoongi - buying you macarons; befriending a stray cat by an ATM; grimacing as he sipped wine you both hated but spent too many Euros on to waste. 

Wait, what were you supposed to be doing? 

Whatever it was, you’d swear up and down that you really did intend to finish it, but then you heard familiar, muffled footsteps. And then you felt the mattress dip slightly under the tops of your thighs and the elbows you’d propped yourself up on.  

And then the same Min Yoongi whose face beamed on your screen - slightly older, and even more adored - slid over the backs of your outstretched legs until his knees came to rest at either side of your ass. His body was warm as it loomed over you, but you shivered, nonetheless. 

Leaning in, he pushed your hair over your right shoulder and pressed a warm kiss into your left. Though he'd targeted an area several centimeters away from your spine, the aftershocks of this chaste contact rippled down its length. From there, the current divested and shot through each of your limbs, paralyzing you. 

You hummed and let your eyelids flutter shut. He ascended the arc of your shoulder, then your neck, leaving a smattering of kisses in his wake until the trail went cold. His quiet exhale tickled the skin below your ear, but he hovered in place - too far away. 

Reflexively, you whined and tilted your head to look at him. Effectively pinned, all you could do was survey his profile in your peripheral vision. “Baby?” You nudged. 

The hand he wasn’t using to hold his weight snuck under the hem of your tank-top and caressed the bare curve of your waist. His hypnotic ministrations on your side might’ve lulled you to sleep if you weren’t so intrigued by his so-far wordless affection. 

Thoroughly spellbound, your lids closed again while your lips remained parted. There was a moan building slowly in your chest, taking its time, but it was a gasp that tore out of you when his teeth nicked your lobe. His tongue was quick to soothe the pinch, and even quicker to solicit a mewl. 

You had no idea where this was coming from. Moreover, you didn't know what additional surprises this man was capable of. Though Yoongi had always been affectionate with you, he'd only recently unearthed some rare, raw sensuality that you never expected. In the time since this discovery, his touches became more frequent. You felt more of him underscoring each one, no matter how brief. 

The fingers skimming over your waist disappeared and left you cold, but before you could process the loss, they reappeared - lower now, pushing up the bottom of your underwear, and gripping the doughy cheek of your ass. Hard. Instantaneously, your hazy eyes re-opened. 

Min Yoongi truly contained multitudes. 

"Have I told you that you're my muse?" He purred into the shell of your ear as his hand massaged the skin he'd likely bruised.  

Enchanted once again, your sole response was a breathy moan. Only after his hand raised and smacked back against your ass did you realize he'd lulled you into a false sense of security. 

"When I ask you a question, I want an answer. Do you understand, baby?" 

Your shuttered breaths and accompanying nod weren't sufficient replies. His palm collided with your delicate cheek a second time, and it stayed there. The sting was muted by his fingers digging in and pinching; but it wasn't the pain that stole your attention. 

Instead, it was the wetness gushing between your clenched thighs when he whispered, "Use your words, angel." 

"I do," You muttered urgently, "I understand." 

The grip on your ass dissolved. You knew better now than to trust the warm hand kneading your cheek, but you couldn't resist moaning. Fuck - his touch was perfect. 

He contradicted the gentle caress below with a nip at your neck; and the kiss placed at that same spot preceded the true kill-shot. He hummed against your skin and your soul threatened to leave your body: 

"Good girl." 

The noise that escaped your mouth was stranded between a gasp and a cry. Oh, this man would be the death of you. 

"You inspired my next project today," He murmured between kisses to your neck. The tip of his nose was cold as it brushed across your skin and that disparity in temperature left you in shambles. "Not something I've done before -" He paused to suckle at your neck, no doubt leaving a mark when he released you, "And I need your help, baby." 

Another whimper escaped when his index finger snapped the elastic waistband of your boy-shorts; and you felt his mouth curve into a smirk. "I'll do anything -" You meant it. "Just - please, Yoongi, I need to feel you." 

"You will," His mirth left him in a breathy chuckle. It vibrated through your body and formed goosebumps as it went. "But not yet, angel. I want to savor this." 

Confused, you pouted - another exhaled laugh against your neck - and then, in a tiny voice, you asked, "What do you mean?" 

His hand slid up the back of your neck. With the base of your skull held gently captive between his thumb and middle finger, he guided you to turn your head to the left, then down. 

It didn't click right away. Silently, you blinked down at your camera. Is this what he wanted you to see? Why did - "Oh, no," you groaned as your head drooped forward. 

"Oh no?" He repeated, and though he tried, he couldn't hide the surprise in his tone. You quickly realized that he mistook your reaction for disinterest. He couldn't have been more wrong.  

Your sudden, complete deflation was simply your body buckling under the weight of unspeakable arousal. It anticipated the world-endingly perfect way he was about to fuck you; and it couldn't process the fact that it would all be memorialized. He really would be the end of you. 

Your head tilted until it rested against the side of his. "The memory card inside it is full, but there's a new one in my bag." 

Although you couldn't see it, you knew the corner of his mouth would twitch excitedly upwards at your words. At his, your mouth dropped open: 

"Any clothes you're still wearing when I come back to this bed will be ripped off. Got it?" 

It was difficult to tell which part of this exchange made your legs quiver the most: the stern warning itself; the contradictory soft, husky tone in which he said it; or the kiss the top of your head received when you responded - out loud - in the affirmative. He was gone before you could figure it out, making his way to the camera bag in the corner of your bedroom. 

He'd barely taken two steps when you frantically pulled your oversized tank-top over your head. It landed somewhere out of sight, and it was swiftly joined by your underwear - grey fabric soaked black. Your laptop was more carefully dismissed, tucked gently under the nightstand to avoid being ruined the way you were sure to be. 

When your head hit the pillow, your heart was already racing. Suddenly, you felt shy as you lay naked in your own bed, like you hadn't been in this position so many times before. There was a long-forgotten anticipation turning flips in your stomach. It bent your knees and brought your arms up to rest over your bare chest - you hadn't felt it since the very first time Yoongi saw you like this. 

As if he'd been summoned by your thoughts, Yoongi walked towards you with his focus trained on the camera in his hands. The tip of his tongue poked out through pursed lips as he carefully slotted the new memory card into the bottom, but it disappeared when the compartment clicked shut again.

He froze when he looked up at you, and your hammering heart threatened to make a break for it. 

"Baby," He was frowning. You raced to figure out which of his directions you failed to follow; but he interrupted the frenzy in your brain with that maddeningly soft, stern voice, "Why are you hiding?" 

Mouth open and poised to respond - with what, you weren't sure - you were cut off by the extended finger he raised to silence you. You clamped your jaw shut; his mouth curved ever-so-slightly at your quick compliance. 

See? You wanted to say, I'm learning! 

He removed the lens cap before his eyes flitted back up to you. "Hands above your head -" You did as he asked, though you didn't know where this was going. "- Close your eyes -" Again, you obeyed. "Don't move." 

And you didn't.  

You laid there with your eyes closed and listened for any sign of what was coming next. You could hear the muffled tread of his bare feet on the rug; and you expected further instructions - none came. Then you waited for any familiar noise from your camera - there was silence. But you smelled his cologne as he came closer, and the warmth you suddenly felt at your side told you that he’d reached you. 

“Lift your head up – but keep your eyes closed.” 

The eyebrow you raised in question was covered with some cool, silky fabric before Yoongi could have registered it. You received your answer in his actions. Gentle fingers adjusted the way the blindfold fell over your eyes, and then – even more gently – they tied a knot at the back of your head. Not too tight, but firm enough to keep it from slipping. It was no surprise to you that he’d handled this without disturbing a single hair on your head. 

His hands, once behind your head, now cupped your face. “You listen so well, angel,” He murmured before plush lips brushed against your forehead. “Lay back down the way you were.” 

Your head returned to the pillow and your elbows bent to allow your hands to meet above it. And you waited like that, trying to sense what his next move would be.

His footsteps padded off, and you figured he was seeking the best place to set up the camera. He paused, though, after only taking a few steps. The camera whirred – the auto-focus, you recognized immediately – and then it clicked. 

“So beautiful – you know that, don’t you? How stunning you are?”  

Click. 

“Perfect -” 

Click. 

“Mine” 

You couldn't help wondering how his photos would turn out. If your cheeks weren’t red under the blanket of his praise, it’d only be because you’d turned into a puddle. Your arousal had strayed far enough to slick the insides of your thighs, and if he didn’t touch you soon, you might liquify entirely and seep through the mattress to the floor. 

In the distance, plastic settled on wood. The strap affixed to your camera slithered over whatever surface he’d chosen; you could hear it slip over an edge, then it was silent. The bookshelf, you decided, third row from the top. Maybe second, if he liked the angle better? 

Without speaking first, he crawled up onto the foot of the bed. He paused there, likely kneeling in front of you. His hands slipped under your bent knees, and the only warning you got was him purring, “Come here,” mere seconds before you were pulled forward. You imagined that your gasp was still hanging in the air when you slipped out from under it. 

As soon as he was satisfied with your proximity, his hands found the insides of your knees and encouraged your legs to spread. “Now, baby -” He started, the heat of his breath indicating just how close his mouth was to your weeping cunt. “You’ll make sure the camera can hear you, won’t you?” 

The word was caught in your throat, suddenly bashful, but it eventually slipped out, “Yes.” 

You knew you’d failed as soon as you heard it, and you didn’t need to wait long to face the consequences. You jolted when his flattened fingers collided with your cunt - the sensation was a surprise, but the sound was what shocked you. Fuck! You could hear how wet he had you already.

Sodden, pooling, dripping. 

“Don’t be selfish, angel,” He tutted after withdrawing his touch from you, “Those sounds might come out of your mouth, but they don't belong to you, do they?” 

“No -” Your desperation was palpable when you responded with your whole chest. “They don’t. I – I won’t be selfish, I promise -” 

You cried out when he slapped your cunt a second time, an obscene chord formed by surprise, torment, and unbearable need.

“Whose are they?”

“Yours!” You choked, “They’re yours. I’m yours.” 

His arms hooked under your thighs and your pulse skyrocketed. “See? You are learning.” 

And then he lurched forward, flat tongue dragging upwards over your core with a pressure so perfect, your entire body tensed. He squeezed your legs harder when your back arched, and it prevented you from inadvertently slipping away from him.  

That devilish tongue swirled over your clit, and all you could manage was a whisper of a moan. He corrected you wordlessly, digging his fingers into the flesh of your thighs. The groan he pulled from you ricocheted off each one of your ribs on the way out. Satisfied, he hummed in approval against your cunt before he proceeded to flick dizzying circles over your increasingly sensitive bud; alternating paces in the way he knew would drive you mad.  

Both of your arms reached out, and your hands carded through his hair. You pulled him ever closer, which prompted him to shake his head furiously with the flat of his tongue pressed against your heat.  

“Oh, fuck!” you wailed. As much as you wanted to watch him, you knew that – even without the blindfold - the way his mouth moved so expertly against you would have made it too difficult to keep your eyes open. They were already covered, but you squeezed them tight enough to see stars as he suckled your clit. “Shit, baby – ah – feels so good.”  

The thread holding you together frayed further and further with every brush of his tongue against your most sensitive spot. The sound of his breathing, ragged and muffled with your thighs pressed harshly against the sides of his head, would have done unspeakable things to you - if your mindless gasping didn't threaten to drown him out completely.  

He shifted without removing his mouth from you, and he unhooked his right arm from under your leg. The heel of his hand glided up over your pelvis, your navel, and your breasts before stopping at the underside of your jaw. Two fingers tapped at your chin; you took the hint and took them into your mouth.

His tongue never let up on your clit as you slicked his fingers, suckling on them the way he did you. Once he was satisfied with the work you’d done, he pulled his hand back down to your cunt.   

Tongue still relentless at your clit, his middle finger swung the focus to your entrance, which was drenched by his saliva and your own slick. Meticulous and slow, he slid his finger inside of you. He moaned at the way you constricted around him; you melted. 

He never struggled to find that secret spot hidden behind your pubic bone. He'd proven time and time again that he was more in tune with your body than you were. Every curve, dip, and line had been committed to muscle memory.  

He could anticipate your reaction to every touch, even when those reactions varied based upon your mood or your energy level - and it was automatic. Unthinking but knowing. He teased this spot without mercy, and as he likely expected, you began to shake under his touch.  

The growing feeling in the pit of your stomach was one you knew he strived for. His favorite trick, once he knew the secret. And whenever you tried to resist – still uncomfortable with the way your body reacted to him – he gave you no choice. 

No poet could adequately describe how completely your orgasm consumed you. With the way you jolted against his mouth, he could’ve electrocuted you. You wriggled and writhed in his arms as you came, but he didn’t stop, even as your walls clenched around his fingers and your thighs pressed even more tightly against the sides of his head.

Your familiar moans devolved into some desperate sounds you’d never made before, curse words spilling out over your lips as you just kept cumming – but he still held tight to you as you bucked wildly in his arms.  

There was unbelievable pressure until there wasn’t.  

“Fuck, I love it when you do that,” He growled with his face nestled into your quivering, dripping inner thigh. His teeth nicked the skin but were swiftly replaced with a kiss from his ravenous, open mouth. “That’s my good girl.” 

He let you collapse back onto the bed, but he denied you any time to recover.  

“I think you can do it again, baby. What do you think?” He teased, alternating words and quick kisses along the interior of your thigh. “Should we see how much more you can take?”  

You babbled something in response, but neither of you could’ve interpreted what you meant. Your limp neck rolled to the side while you tried to catch your breath; there wasn’t time. You felt him coat his fingers in the remnants of your orgasm moments before he slid them inside of you and curled them upward.  

The combination of relentless pressure and a feverish pace dotted stars across the insides of your eyelids. Breathless, dangling at the edge of a precipice, you stammered, “Yoo-Yoongi -” 

Despite the obscene squelch of his ministrations, his voice rang through, clear as a bell. “What, angel? Do you want to come again?” Stupidly, you nodded, but he didn’t scold you. Given your fucked-out state, he seemed to forgive your mistake. “Then come.” 

The blindfold covering your eyes was black, but your vision went white. As you spasmed and gushed uncontrollably around his fingers, there was a moment where you could’ve sworn your soul ejected itself from your body. If it was floating above you now, it would’ve seen how thoroughly you’d drenched your boyfriend; and how perfect he still looked with your juices dripping off his chin. 

His weight was shifting at your feet when you returned to your body. It took everything you had, but you lifted one, limp arm out in his general direction. No words, just an outstretched hand begging to find him. When it did, he slotted his fingers perpendicularly under yours, rubbed the pad of his thumb over your knuckles, and kissed the top of your hand. 

“What color?” he murmured against your skin. 

You sighed softly, exhausted but not yet entirely spent, “Green.” You paused and chewed on your bottom lip. After a moment of quiet, you asked, “Yoongi?” 

“Yes, baby?” 

It was pitiful how your request barely rolled off of your tongue, but the answer would surely be no if you didn’t ask. “Can I see you?” 

He was silent for a moment – so, the answer would be no even though you did ask – but then you heard his soft chuckle. Even after he pulled the blindfold off, your eyes were useless. Somewhere in the bright white haze was Yoongi, though you couldn’t confirm that the shadow in front of you was truly him. Maybe you truly had died. 

Blinking furiously, you refused to stop until your eyes remembered how to focus. Slowly, slowly, slowly, the dark figure before you took a familiar shape. Shirtless, with damp, black waves clinging to his cheekbones – there he was. Concern was etched into his features, but his narrowed eyes relaxed when you shot him a smile. 

“Color?” You inquired with a squeeze of your hand. 

When he dropped your hand, your heart fell with it. But he sat up on his knees, placed that hand on your cheek, and captured your lips in a kiss. It was perfect, but it was torturously brief.  

“Green,” He replied. He backed away from you until he was standing at the foot of the bed. One hand dropped to his belt buckle while the index finger on his other hand beckoned you. 

You crawled towards him until his palm silently instructed you to stop. 

“Elbows on the mattress, ass up,” He ordered as he made short work of his belt. It slid easily through the loops of his ripped jeans and clattered as it hit the floor.

You leaned forward as he instructed, knees and elbows digging into the comforter you’d absolutely need to wash later – especially considering the way your mouth watered when his jeans and boxers were discarded and kicked aside. Were you drooling? 

Your body buzzed with anticipation as he crossed to the side of the bed. You wished he took his time sidling over to you, so your eyes could continue to devour his lean, snow-white frame; but if the stiff cock encircled by his hand was any indication, Yoongi wasn’t interested in wasting time. Instead, he pushed himself up onto the bed, out of sight, and the next thing you felt was his hand collecting your hair, pulling, and forcing your face up to the camera. 

His free hand squeezed your ass cheek when he said, “Eye contact, baby. Show the camera how I make you feel. Can you do that?” 

With his tip teasing at your entrance, you weren’t confident that you could – but you’d sure as hell try. “I can,” Your determination was clear, even if the voice conveying it wavered. “I will.” 

“Good girl,” He hummed. He released your hair and placed a kiss on the same shoulder blade he had earlier - when he last had you in this position. “Now, take a deep breath for me.” 

It wasn’t graceful, the way you sucked in air as he penetrated you; it was an unholy, strangled sound, and it crashed through the quiet like a wrecking ball. Every instinct begged your head to droop forward, and your back to curve up upwards, but you fought them off. Praise for your efforts tumbled out over your spine between Yoongi’s shuttered moans. His noises had you clenching around his cock, and the tightened grip of your cunt transformed them into something guttural. 

He paused when he bottomed out. Like you, he seemed to be at a loss for words. The hand gripping your hip was holding on for dear life; and the one curved over your shoulder kept you in place, allowing him to bury himself as deeply as possible.

He didn’t speak until he slowly started withdrawing himself from you, “I love the way you take me, how that tight pussy fights me whenever I leave.” 

As his cock dragged over your g-spot, your entire body shivered. He felt it and chuckled; you hiccupped, “Still so s-sensitive.” 

“Green?” 

“More -” You begged, “Please, baby.” 

You asked for it, but you weren’t ready for it. His hips snapped forward and drove him back into you before you could process what was happening. And when he kept up that ravenous pace, rutting over and over and over your detonator, it took everything you had not to explode.

All your willpower was spent trying to withstand his thrusts, though – nothing could keep you from collapsing forward onto the bed as your white-knuckled fingers gripped the comforter below. 

Before your body could fully settle over the mattress, his hand on your shoulder evolved into an arm hooking over you. He pulled you upright as his arm crossed over your heaving chest; he didn’t stop until he had you pinned to his. 

Fucking upwards into you with shallow, staccato strokes, he scolded you. “What did I tell you?” His hand dropped from your hip and dipped between your quivering thighs. His rapid thrusts didn’t falter as his middle finger began to assault your clit. “Hmm? What did I just say?” 

“Eye conta -”

The end of that word mutated into a scream. He snapped his hips forward so suddenly, you never anticipated being shoved off the edge of the world. Your orgasm ripped through you, shutting off your brain and forcing your entire body to convulse around him. 

You went limp when you fell from your high; Yoongi’s hold on you tightened to keep you from collapsing. Unrelenting, he just – kept – rutting. Holy shit, holy shit, holy shit.

You wailed when that fourth wave crashed down over you. Caught in its riptide, you spoke in tongues; writhing and shrieking and imploding. Could a person die from coming this hard? 

Yoongi’s panting pulled you out of the abyss he’d thrown you in. “Shit,” He hissed, “I’m so close - fuck, you feel so good -” You felt it all over when he growled into your ear, “Tell me where you want it, baby.” 

You answered, but it was impossible for your hazy brain to know for sure if you’d replied verbally or telepathically. Either way, he understood – he always understood – and his break-neck speed was replaced by deep, deliberate thrusts. He groaned out your name as his cock twitched inside you, painting your walls white. 

The kiss Yoongi left in the crook of your neck didn’t wash away with the water cascading down over the two of you. You could still feel the uniqueness of its warmth, even in a cloud of steam - under the hot, heavy droplets hitting your skin.  

Your eyes were closed to avoid the conditioner he was massaging into your scalp, but your exhaustion was likely to keep them that way. The only reason you hadn’t slipped down the drain yourself was your unspoken refusal to be separated from him. Though, with that invisible string tying the two of you together, you’d never be able to stray very far, even if you wanted to.

“Can you tilt your head back, love?” 

This one was a request, not a command, and he made no effort to move it for you. The weight of your sleepiness caused your neck to roll more clumsily than you intended; it gave up, and your head bumped against his clavicle when it dropped backwards.

“Sorry,” you murmured, but he was already chuckling. “My motor skills seem to have clocked out early.” 

His laugh ricocheted off the tile. “You won’t need them,” He mused as his hands gently worked the remaining conditioner from your hair. “We can use mine.” Then he kissed the crown of your head, not once but twice. You could feel his smile spread against your scalp when you giggled. “All done, baby.” 

He’d taken his time with you; and he’d taken great care to clean – then kiss – every sore muscle he encountered. And when he was done, he used a large, plush towel to wick the lingering droplets from your skin. His hands on your waist steadied you as you stepped into a pair of sweatpants, and he smoothed the damp waves that you disrupted in unceremoniously tugging an oversized sweatshirt over your head. 

Once the two of you were fully dressed, he cupped your face in his hands, kissed you deep, and asked, “Do you need a lift back to bed?” His eyes sparkled at his joke – of course, he meant lift literally – and his eyebrow arched when you meekly shook your head. “I’m not sold. Is that your final answer?” 

You, once again, shook your head. He exhaled amusement through his nose at your indecision. Then, he placed his hands on your waist. Perfectly coordinated – as always – he lifted as you hopped, pulling you into his chest while your limbs wrapped around him. He carried you easily back into the bedroom and set you down gently on the bare mattress. 

All of your bedding was spinning in the washing machine on the first floor of your home, but he had a fluffy, full-sized throw waiting there for you. You held up one side of it, silently inviting him to join you. When he settled at your side, your head ducked down and came to rest under his chin. As soon as his arm curled over your back, your heavy lids finally closed. 

You were both quiet, one foot in a dream, when the growl of his stomach startled you both awake. Erupting into laughter, you each craned your neck to see the other beaming back. 

He wiped the mirth pooling in the corner of his eye and sighed as his laughter petered out, “Delivery from that fried chicken place?” 

“Oooh, yes, please.”

A/N: Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah! The response to the first post was so incredibly overwhelming, I simply had to write a follow-up. I might continue to add one-offs to this darksided cinematic universe (lol) simply because I love their relationship dynamic. And the sexual journey they seem to be on, hahahah. Please leave feedback so I know what you liked and what you didn't! Also, lmk if there’s something you’d want to see in any possible future installments 👀

[voidwritesstuff]

Camcorder Stories.

Cw: War being self deprecating. (No surprise there)

Summary: The Four happen to be travelling with a human survivor who is a devoted learner of all things cinema. They're learning about human culture one way or another, even if they dont like it.

>A/n: Inspired by the lovely @darkdemeter and her amazing Darksiders writings. As A film student, I felt like I needed to share all this knowledge that has changed the way I watch films and other multimedia content. To share the hard work involved and the appreciation I have for it :DDD.

The horsemen had no concept of what Film was. Not even Strife,who was the most acquainted with humanity even before the end times.

But now the riders found themselves with a young human who had dedicated a good portion of their years to studying cinema. And much to their chagrin or excitement...

This human carried an old camcorder with them. And with tapes to spare.

Death:

Not even theatre was of particular concern or interest to the pale rider. He was never one for the arts,other than the art of necromancy, so at first he pays the human no mind when they begin talking about film.

"Oh hold on,I need to film this. Stand there at the edge of that cliff...I just need to fiddle with the ISO. So bright..."

Death was just looking at the Valley below,the sickly sun of the kingdom of the dead shone on his cold skin. The warmth was sticky and awful. But hes never been one to complain.

The tall bone towers stood on the far distance on each side of him, a perfect frame of Demise between the reaper himself.

His human companion fiddled with buttons and he could see the lense of the strange device the mortal held. He saw how it opened and closed like a predator's Gaze.

"Okay! There we go. Finally. Please stand there,Im going to do a traveling, then a zoom in And finish on a medium close up...you just stay there like in a reverse shot. " the human made a pause,as if thinking about their words "stay still,look Cool. Back to the camera and look forwards to either of those towers"

Death doesnt know why he indulges in these outbursts of cinematic inspiration. He thinks it helps his companion Keep their sanity..and it keeps them tame and less prone to trouble.

He can hear the mortal slowly walk to him. His ears catch the sound of their footsteps from his right. He can guess theyre putting most of their weight on their heels so they can turn upwards and close in on him to somewhat eye level.

The sound comes from his right to then begin walking a Straight line behind him. Thats the travelling.

This "useless" knowledge of film has been drilled into his mind against his Will. He knew a travelling meant this human would slowly move towards him from either of his sides.

After comes that close up. Those always put his hairs on edge. Like theyre sneaking behind him. He absolutely hates it. Even if theyre not even a threat.

Finally,the medium close up meant the camera would only film from his shoulders up.

He can hear the whirring of the camcorder as it takes in his form.

It cuts when the camera is right on his left shoulder.

"Satiated?" He asked,a gruff in his voice. The annoyance bellows from the base of his throat.

"Very..." he turns to see the human look at their recording"I know you hate doing second takes...I know you think this is silly but...I'd like one more take. Please? . Its not often that outside light behaves,usually its better to do all this in a studio-gives you more controll over the lights and shadows.. but this is almost a golden opportunity.."

He asks himself again why he indulges the mortal on these things. But he looks at how their eyes glimmer at the prospect of connecting with something so tied to them and their people that went on a horrible decline by the hands of things older and more powerfull than them.

And he cant squander their happiness.

Perhaps hes grown soft, perhaps hes intrigued by such arts.

"One last 'take'. Make it count,human"

The smile they give him could melt any Ice. And if the Creator willed it,maybe the one that wrapped his dead heart.

"Okay! Ill do my travelling from the left, then a zoom and finish on your right shoulder. I know theres not much difference but the sun is coming from the left...I think its going to be more dramatic that way!"

Death couldnt help but let out a low,low chuckle"One of these days,I'll make you show me all these things youre...filming"

"Death,after this take I'll show all of them to you. I promise" the human's voice sounds the happiest hes ever heard since meeting them "I think all this Will make a smashing docu-series. Ill give you credits of course, though putting "Special thanks to the literal horseman of the pale horse" sounds a little weird"

Another chuckle left the old reaper "With everything your people has been through,thats your concern?"

The human laughed,a sound so heavenly"Alright,alright,fair. C'mon. Stand there again and We'll wrap this up faster than you can say 'action!'"

Fury

Her opinions could make even the saltiest of film critics cry. And shes not ashamed on telling his human companion how pointless and useless their outbursts were.

But then she saw how cool she looked,and it fed her ego so much she changed her tune.

"Youre going to kill me because of this,Fury. But move to that lightsource there" the human Pointed at one forwards down the Hall of arcane lights they were in.

"Whats wrong with this one, mortal? " the she-horseman asked with her hands on her hips and a little annoyed glare in her white eyes.

"I can tell from how it looks here in the camera that this is an incomplete spectrum lightsource "

"English,human "

The mortal sighed,putting down the camera "Incomplete Spectrum Lights dont do well with colors that are a mix of two others. Your hair is magenta, the middle between blue and red. Depending on where you stand, its taking the color of your hair from bluer to redder. Not a nice look,and not the one im looking for "

She relented and Walked further down the Hall. She raised her hands in annoyance and said "Well? "

"Perfect!! Do something cool with your whip! -Oh I need to change the obturation velocity. "

"...human" Fury scowled.

"How quickly the lenses Open and close to register the image. The quicker it opens and closes the clearer the image of your whip moving Will be"

Fury saw them click a few buttons on their camcorder. The tech was foreign to them,only her watcher seemed to be aware of how they worked. So,when the human wasnt listening, the shadow being explained to her mistress what a camera was and how it functioned.

"There! Ready. Im not sure on what shot to use.."

She did say she didnt care for film knowledge. Shes heard it enough times against her Will but...

"Medium length shot. Didn't you humans call it an 'American Shot'  too?" she asked,grabbing the Hilt of Scorn.

The human smiles,the glimmering of their eyes like theyre finally being acknowledged

"Or 'cowboy shot' yeah. You...you remembered! "

"Just because you said it a thousand times. "

By now,her mortal companion had grown used to her dismissal. "Uh-Huh sure. Ahem, alright. 'Fury being awesome ' take one! And...action!"

Just a few takes later,The human approached the horsewoman and showed her the display screen of the camera. Within it she sees the last take they did, which seemed to be the best one yet.

There truly is an art and a skill to it. How they move about to catch each angle, evading any lightsource that May betray their shadow and ruin the film.

Fury catches the warmth and pride in the human's eyes. This is the first time shes seen them so content. Mortals needed little to be happy.

It made her heart squeeze. She almost felt...guilty for being so critical and mean about this,admitedly, unique art form.

"Not bad. Perhaps you'll even make this into something worth watching" she ruffles their hair to add her usual emotional distance, but the human is inmune to It.

"When I do,you and your siblings are invited to the red carpet premiere. You Better dress your best"

"I never dissapoint,human".

Strife:

The horseman of the white horse loved any and all things human related. Was this his way of making up after his failing at protecting humanity from corruption? Maybe.

Or maybe he just really likes the culture.

Not like he'd tell his human companion about why he seemed so interested in their filming.

"Okay heres a fun bit of info for you. Did you know we had an art form called stop motion?"

"I Didnt know, how does it work?"

He listened attentively as the mortal told him about the millions of variations of puppet models,the replacement, the neat little tricks to make things move and seem Real.

To him,stop motion animation sounded like a real labor of love.

"I had to make one for a class once. It was painful but fun"

"Do you still have the recording?"

"I...dont sadly. We made it on a digital camera and god knows what happened to it after this shit show"

"Oh...".

"But if you give me a few hours we can make one together"

Strife knows himself enough to be aware of his lack of patience. But he accepts the deal if only for the experience.

He sees his human companion,his Friend, work away at making a few tiny little puppets that they can pose. They use pine cones,Grass,rubble, anything that they can get their hands on.

The mortal sets the camera on a rock,making sure it cant be moved. Then, they spent the Next few hourstaking pictures and making the puppets move and do silly little things.

Strife defenetly didnt have the patience for this, but it was all worth it when he saw the animation they made together. How the doll moved about in its little scenario,how the arms hoist up some pebble.

" Ive never done anything like this" he had admitted as he cleaned his guns. This was his way of unwinding. "It was fun, but painful. You sure its not some human torture method?"

His friend laughed,shaking their head as they press record on their camera and begin to move it delicately to drink in all the details of the horseman's hands cleaning the gun

The campfire beside them gave the shot a dramatic light that flickered and danced in a way that made the metal glint. And with a low ISO (aka the camera's sensitivity to light) there was no oversaturation to ruin the recording.

"Watcha doing'?" The gunslinger asked, not stopping the cleaning of his weapons.

"A detail shot. Usually its for props. In this case, the props are your guns." They explained "I personally love detail shots. They showcase the love put into the props by the art department"

"Theres an art department?"

"Ya. Theres also a lights department, writers,directors, producers, special effects- like a fake wound-, a costume/clothes department.-"

"So Many people for one movie?"

"Mhm! I can tell you all about it "

"Sweetheart,we've got nuthin' but time. 'M all ears"

War:

Creator help the human that the red rider travels with. He knows little of things like theatre and magic and tech are a mystery to him in so Many ways. Had it not been for the watcher, the behemoth in crimson would have no clue and think its an elaborate human prank.

"Okay so in a movie,you'd have four stages. Pre- production,where the story and list of resources needed for the film get made. Production,which is getting everything on the list plus actors and catering and a bunch of other things. Filming,the fun part. And post-production, where everything comes together"

War raised his brows in surprise, his expression would have been hidden if it wasnt for the slight widening of his shining white eyes and his voice as he says "I...was not aware of how much was needed for such a  seemingly simple thing"

The human was unaware of the expression he was making,seeing as their back was to his chest. Ruin trode lazily over the broken pavement.

"Yeah! You need a lot. Think about this,you need a scene in a home.." they begin,opening Their camcorder to put a tape within It "you can either make it within a studio- which means making everything from the ground up- or get a house with the furniture inside it "

He listens attentively "Im sure its more complicated than that...You'd need...lights? You have said that. And you told me natural light can be...tricky"

"Yeah!! " they sound so happy at his remembrance "For a home you manage to "borrow" you need to block out the Windows- unless theyre shown in the shot- and replace the light with artificial ones. But you'd also need people and services to haul the equipment to that home. "

They made a brief pause "a big guy like you would be useful. You May have a spot on the industry after all!"

"I dont see myself-"

"It was a joke,War"

"Right"

"Thats joke 1000 and counting" they breathed out,before turning on their camcorder. "Hey...I want a birds eye view of Ruin's head. Can get on your shoulders?"

He sighed "very well. Be careful"

The human climbs on him with ease. His armor provided foot holds and places to grasp. And its not the first time this happened...

War barely registers their weight on him. He looks up past his hood to see them record the sunset,turning side to side slowly in a panning motion.

"Natural light can be finnicky...but things like these can be breath taking...Wonderful shot"

At this,something comes to the rider's mind. "Why do you...record all these things? Arent they painful reminders? Do you do it to inmortalize yourself?"

The mortal looked down and smiled,shaking their head"in film,we tell stories. I want to tell this story...our story" the camera bends down to record him. And he huffs,all afluster.

"The nephilim are not worthy of remembrance".

"But you horsemen are. Your stories are worth sharing. And im making sure they happen. Your voice deserve to be heard"

"What makes you so certain?"

"I...Im not sure. Its just a feeling.."

He saw the way the human's brows knit together. They chew the inside of their cheek and turn the camera to take the view of Ruin's firey mane.

"Wonderful films have been made out of less. Sure,your stories are amazing and interesting- but thats not quite It. We have all seen stories of guts and glory,of massacres...but you horsemen are different. Unique."

"We're the accursed union of Angel and Demon. We're unique because we shouldnt exist "

He feels them kick him with the heel of their foot. "Dont say that about yourself. Good god" they sigh,looking at the sunset "theres nobody in this world like you four, youre unique in a wonderful way. You are a union of angel and demon but youre nothing like them. Youre uniquely independent, in a League all of your own. I seek to understand it I guess-  I want to tell your stories because..."

The words are on the tip of their tongue. So annoying...

And War sounds almost...meek in asking. He hopes of acknowledgement, of being seen, as deep down as that feeling is.

"Because theres simply nothing like you,and I think everyone deserves to know how noble,how kind and how strong you are. Maybe we can even learn something from you for. Your courage and disposition are unmatched. As scarred as you May be,as hurt even...I just think you deserve to be shown and appreciated for your uniqueness"

The rider was unsure on what to say. They are perhaps the only being in existence that appreciates the four in this way. And...he quite likes it.

"No doubt you'll make it far in your carreer" he complimented after a long silence."few beings in existence have the heart that you do..."

He heard them chuckle, their shadow moving as they hook their feet under his armor to stand up and bring their camera further up,showing the low brush and lushness that begins to overtake the landscape. The blue hour fully setting in.

"Will you come watch what I make?"

It was so obvious there was a slight hint of humor. He could tell the human wasnt at all convinced he actually cared for their art.

Too bad he means to show them he does

"To see the fruits of your hard labor? Of course. "

He hears the slight sniffing,he feels the slight trembling..."Ill- ill get you the best- best seats at the theatre. I promise"

War raised his normal hand to wrap around their calf, as a comfort but as a steadying force. "Ive no doubt you'll uphold your word"

[fandom-fantasy-fuel]

Darth Vader head-canon dump below:

I don't know anyone else who has this take on Darth Vader but first of all, to me he has always looked and sounded like James Earl Jones when he's without the armour. The man was such a crucial part of making that character that I can't picture him otherwise.

I hate the take that his real voice is almost non-existent and the one we hear is completely synthesised from a breathy wheeze? I've noticed a lot of people seem determined to remove everything cool and sexy about Vader and looove obsessing over him actually being super weak mentally and physically, held together by duct-tape, constantly suffering from every kind of botched medical experiment and suicidally depressed.

I don't get why you'd do him a disservice like that, yes he went through some hellish physical trauma but I see him as a character who overcome most of that with sheer determination and is extremely resilient and strong, deriving his power from rage and fanaticism, not sadness.

He would not think of himself as a monster in a "I hate myself, I'm an abomination, I want to die" way, he'd think it's sick as hell and enjoy being monstrous in the sense that he is the ultimate embodiment of the darkside and is set apart from other people by being absurdly overpowered and mysterious. He'd love to play up that intimidation factor and leans into being considered inhuman by pretending he doesn't eat or sleep, for instance. He'd take it like a complement when people think "there's no way he could be human he's too unnatural and powerful" but Vader would never think less of himself or think he's more machine than man for having technology integrated with biology, it's just an extension of himself and he's always had an affinity with technology and would feel those parts of himself through the force just the same.

I think it's a bad take when people go 'he was constantly at odds with his prosthetics and mods which were badly made, also he'd be completely fucked if the wrong button was pressed or anything broke because he's that dependent and impotent without them and his 50 prescription drugs.' Nah man, that Absolute Unit can handle anything thrown at him and made a literally miraculous recovery through the force!

I get that he would have some physical challenges but I feel like some Vader fans have a kind of munchaussen-by-proxy thing going on tbh (I don't think that's the right term but I can't think of what to call it), the way they fetishise his disabilities and hyper-focus on details like colostomy bags and how much care he would require. (Don't come at me for being ableist I'm literally writing this from my hospital bed with an IV hooked up)

[brokehorrorfan]

Knightriders’ original motion picture soundtrack is available on vinyl for hte first time for $40 via Scare Flair Records. Composed by Donald Rubinstein (Martin, Tales from the Darkside: The Movie), the score has been remastered for vinyl from the original master tapes.

The double-LP album is available in two color variants: “Fighting the Dragon” 180-gram red/black and orange/yellow colored vinyl and “Brother Blue” 150-gram transparent blue colored vinyl (limited to 50). It’s housed in a gatefold jacket featuring classic art by Boris Vallejo, new art by Gary Pullin, an 11x11 program of events insert, and liner notes by Rubinstein.

[bearpillowmonster]

I don't want to complain about something relating to Christmas but I thought this was baffling enough to share. So I asked for Resident Evil Darkside Chronicles for Christmas, I found some on eBay but I can't say I've seen one out in the wild, it's not exactly the most common game. Anyway, all the eBay listings said "good" and whatnot but that could mean anything so there was one that said "Like New." and ho boy, was that an exaggeration. This is how it came:

It came in a paper mailer, disc taped to a paper receipt. You can tell this person has no concept of gaming or taking care of your discs. Even had the gall to put on the page "Please write a review." Oh you better believe. I'm fine with it out of the case and everything but normally when that happens, they'll put it in an unlabelled stock case or maybe a plastic sleeve and at least put it in a semi contained bubble mailer to keep it protected but this person did the bare minimum asked of them on the assignment. The disc looked beat to crap and back, I gave it a good wipe down before even thinking about testing it. All things considered, it should've been cracked, if not from the cold weather it had to endure then from the shipping itself.

I wouldn't have been surprised if it didn't work but lo and behold, it did, I guess that's what matters. In fact, it acts like it's never been used, no save files, nothing unlocked (there are archives and stuff) so this person somehow stumbled upon this uncommon game, didn't play it but took it out and lost the case, probably left it lying somewhere and then put it on eBay to which they thought "Yeah, this is 'LIKE NEW'." to later tape to a piece of paper and send. I can just barely fathom the thought process of what this thing has went through.

[rzombie]

Some shit

[chrisone]

Some online purchases

[deniigi]

Title: eleven stars

Summary:

Dooku joined the darkside because he thought it would take him away from a life tied up in red tape and, finding that what was awaiting for him on the other side of the Force was just more goddamn red tape, he moves out to the country to an old cottage and demands that his grandkids come help him set up a pig pen. 

Snippet:

--

Obi-Wan, notorious animal lover, so much like his late master, is more petrified of the pig than he is of an entire droid battalion. He climbs into the trailer, and as soon as Tulip notices him, flings himself out of it. Feemor convinces him to sit on his shoulders and talk to her. Just talk.

This rapidly devolves into six jedi trying to mindtrick a swine. Yan hangs back and observes. Xanatos tells Feemor to shut up, he’s not putting enough effort into this, and shoves him back to draw upon the dark side. To mindtrick the pig. As is the only appropriate use of the darkside, truly.

It doesn’t work.

Anakin decides that what they’ve got to do is to coax all the babies into the pen first. Surely the mother will follow the babies.

This has a success rate of 100% for the piglets and a 0% success rate for Tulip.

And that is when Ahsoka remembers that she didn’t get to hunt the elk yesterday. Her pupils dilate. Tulip rounds on her. A trigger goes off in the child’s skull and she begins to sink low. She lays her hands on the trailer’s latch with tenderness that Tulip reads as a threat.

“Soka,” Anakin says. “Let’s not get mauled, yeah?”

Ahsoka lets loose a quiet, but audible rumble from her chest and throat.

Tulip begins to back away.

“Here, piggy, piggy,” Ahsoka murmurs through the shudder of her voice.

----

link to the full piece on Ao3 here.

[darling-i-read-it]

Whatever It Takes

Fate Part 2

Series Masterlist

Leon Kennedy x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.9k

Warnings: violence, re2 spoilers, guns, blood, ‘death’,

Author’s Note: Literally, as much as I love resident evil 2 I am so excited for resident evil 4 lmao. Just a reminder that I know Leon’s in darkside chronicles but I haven’t played that quite yet so when I do, I will go back and do a part 2.5 if I have to! Anyway, I hope you enjoy this part as much as I did!

Summary: You follow Ada Wong and eventually make it out of Raccoon City with Leon.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

I use some dialogue directly from the game so it may sound familiar

(not my gif)

Ada listened to the tape intently. You and Leon shared a glance as she did so, unsure if you should actually be giving her the information. But it didn’t seem like much to you. Ada hadn’t failed you so far.

“Is that the intel you needed?” you asked.

“Unfortunately no. Ben didn’t come through,” she explained, annoyed.

“Well what exactly are you looking for?” Leon questioned.

“More info on the people responsible for this mess,” she said evenly. You admired her. She seemed to have it together, even here in the middle of this mess. You could probably watch her fight people for hours and not get bored. The heels were a fashion choice but it didn’t look to be bothering her in the slightest.

“What about you two? Trying to save the world with love?” You scoffed and Leon scratched the back of his neck.

“We’re trying to bring help to the police station,” you said. “And we aren’t in love.”

“Could’ve fooled me. I think it adds a bit of pizazz to the situation,” she said, kneeling in front of a door to one of the shops. She worked at the lock of the gun shop.

“I’m gonna look for ammo,” you said, stepping inside. Leon nodded.

“I’ll scout the way.” He jogged forward toward the door out. Ada lingered, waiting for him to do the job she didn’t want to do. She turned to you.

“Known each other long?”

“We just met today actually,” you admitted, surveying the shelves. There were a couple lone bullets that you pocketed. You offered some to her but she shook her head. “Have you been able to find Annette?”

“Still looking,” she admitted.

“If I run into her, I’ll point her your way. What did she do?” She scoffed.

“What didn’t she do?”

“Don’t move!” You and Ada heard the sound of a man that wasn’t Leon and both of you took out your gun. You walked around the corner and saw a man pointing a shotgun at Leon.

“I’m just passing through. I’m gonna ask you to lower your weapon.” Police talk. If you weren’t all in danger of the man with the gun then you would have smiled. He would have been a good officer.

“Like hell you are! You’re gonna turn around and come back the way you came!” You took the safety off on your gun.

“I think your daughter needs help sir,” Leon said. You turned the corner and lifted it to him. Ada watched you curiously. You clearly weren’t trained with a gun. She figured you would stay back and let her go forward to help Leon but you jumped forward before she was able to.

Ah emotions, Ada thought. They always fail us. How predictable.

“Drop your gun,” you said, trying to make your voice sound hard. Ada came out from behind you and pointed her gun at the little girl but the man jumped in front of Ada’s gun.

“No!”

“We have to terminate her before she turns,” Ada said.

“Terminate? That’s my fucking daughter!” he said. You looked at the little girl behind him. She looked like she was already a zombie. Leon lowered his gun.

“Ada...just let them be,” he said. You looked to him. But you understood. Why not just kill the little girl, put her out of her misery? Leon gave you a look and you lowered your gun slowly. Ada didn't listen that quickly. She finally lowered her gun and the man nodded, turning back to his daughter.

“I told you to stay inside,” he whispered as he shut the door behind him and her.

“You know, it’s one thing to keep the truth from us but why him?” Leon asked. He had an anger in his voice you hadn’t heard from him yet. “I want to find out whatever’s happening here. And stop whoever’s behind it,” he said. “Helping people like them - that’s why I joined the force.” Ada looked hard at Leon.

“My mission is to take down Umbrella's entire operation. We may not make it out,” she explained.

“Whatever it takes to save this city - count me in,” Leon said. He looked to you. “Listen, I understand if you just want to find Claire and leave. When we see her next, the two of you can go and leave this damn city. If I see Chris I can send him your way.” You looked over at Ada. She had that neutral look on her face. You couldn’t get over how brave she was. How brave Leon was. You were scared shitless. You didn’t want to be here anymore, you wanted out of Racoon City and out of this whole mess.

But you looked into Leon’s eyes and knew what you had to do.

“Leon, I'm not leaving you. Someone has to be here to save you,” you said lightly. He had put up a good front but both you and Ada could see the sigh of relief he released when you said that.

“Alright you two. Let’s move,” Ada said. She was happy to have you there. You could do the things she didn’t want to. “Have you heard of the Umbrella Corporation?”

====

You, Leon and Ada had been walking for what seemed like ages. You had run into reptiles and more zombies on your search for Annette which was starting to make you regret your decision to come along with them. You wondered where Claire was. You hoped she was fairing better than you.

Ada had explained it all to you, at least most of the things she knew. Umbrella, how they sold the virus that made bioweapons. All this, happening right under everyone's nose. It made you sick.

Leon opened the next door in front of both of you, acting like you couldn’t handle yourselves. On the other side was finally another person. Blonde, wearing a lab coat. You guessed this was Annette.

“Identify yourself!” Leon said. Police officer Kennedy.

“Annette Birkin,” Ada said. You were all pointing your guns at her.

“She’s who we’re looking for?” Leon asked.

“Looks like the description Ada gave,” you said.

“Not much time,” Annette muttered. “Need to dispose of it.”

“We’re here for the G-Virus,” Ada said.

“That’s not going to happen,” Annette promised.

“I’m warning you doctor!” Ada said.

“Oh yeah?” You didn’t like the sound of that. Annette took something out of her pocket and tossed it on the dead body she had been kneeling beside. It lit on fire.

“Stop!” Ada yelled, running after her. Gunshots rang out and you quickly hid behind the wall as Leon jumped forward, blocking Ada with himself. They both fell over. “Wasn’t expecting that from a scientist,” she muttered as Leon got off her. Leon groaned and you looked down at him.

“Go, don’t let her get away,” he whispered. Your eyes went wide as they landed on his blood soaked shoulder. You rushed over to him, falling to the floor beside him just as he passed out. You put your hand on his shoulder.

“We need to get it wrapped up,” Ada said.

“Damn vest. Never where I need it to be,” you muttered. “Is he gonna be okay?” you asked, turning to her. She looked over at him. She took off her sunglasses, letting you see her eyes for the first time. You had no doubt she was beautiful without the glasses but it still hit you like a sack of bricks.

“Yes.” You had your hand pressed firmly against Leon’s shoulder, your other hand holding his head above ground. You grabbed one of the bandages you had found in the station and carefully wrapped it around his shoulder. You weren’t great at it but it kept the pressure. Ada took off her trench coat, revealing a red dress underneath.

“You have somewhere to be after this?” you asked, laughing.

“I never go anywhere looking less than amazing,” she said and she sounded genuine. You decided not to push. She handed you the jacket, gesturing to Leon. You put it over him like a blanket.

“I have to go and find Annette, there’s no time to wait.” You nodded.

“Do you want me to come?” She sensed you wanting to stay with him instantly. Despite having met Ada a mere two hours after you had met Leon, you had still met him first. You felt you had a responsibility to keep him safe. You wanted to keep him safe.

“Stay with him till he wakes up. Then come find me,” she said. “Keep him safe.” You nodded.

“Ada?” you said before she walked off. “You be safe.”

It had been a fat minute since someone wanted Ada to be safe. She knew she was lying to you. Once everything was said and done, she would take the sample if you got it before her. But you and Leon trusted her and wanted her to be safe. She gave you a small smile, a genuine smile and nodded.

“I’ll see you both soon.”

She walked down the hall, leaving you alone with Leon. You turned to him, his face at peace as he slept. You put your hand on his.

“Wake up soon. We got work to do Kennedy.” You noticed your necklace on his vest and smiled gently. You tucked it inside his shirt and rested beside him.

Now to figure out how to clean this gun.

====

You had almost fallen asleep when you felt Leon stir beside you. You jerked yourself awake and turned to him. His eyes fluttered open and he put his hand on his bandage. It was holding up pretty well. You met his eyes.

“Y/N,” he breathed. He looked around. “Where’s Ada?”

“She went to get Annette. Told me to stay here with you until you woke up,” you explained.

“I’m awake.”

“Hey, are you feeling alright? You kind of got shot.”

“Yeah,” he said. He put his hand on his arm gingerly. “I got shot,” he muttered. “That’s something I’ve never been able to say before.” You nodded, laughing gently.

“You sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll live. Come on, what if Ada needs us?” You nodded. You stood up and offered him your hand which he took. You hoisted him up. “Why would she tell you to stay? You’d be more useful to her out there.”

“Probably thought I would get in her way. Or maybe she sensed that I didn’t want to leave you alone when you’re out cold,” you said. He smiled.

“Thank you for watching over me.”

“Anytime Kennedy. But it seems we have another puzzle to solve if we want to get to Ada so we should probably focus.”

===

After more time than either of you cared to admit, you were able to get down to where Ada was. She looked injured as she sat down on the ground. You both rushed down to her. As you slowed next to her you noticed something coming out of her leg.

“I was getting worried there for a sec,” she muttered. “I can’t get it out.”

“I don’t know if I should-” Leon started. Ada looked at you.

“Do it. I can’t walk like this.” You nodded curtly and put your hands on the jagged piece of debris. You pulled it out and she winched. Leon was already ready with the bandages. “I can do that myself,” she said but Leon still did it anyway.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“Get yourselves out of here, while you still can,” Ada said. You scoffed.

“We aren’t just going to leave you here,” you told her.

“You don’t understand, this situation is worse than I thought,” she said. You shrugged.

“Then we’ll figure it out together. We’re already knee deep in this.”

“You protected us,” Leon said. “Now it’s our turn.” Ada smiled.

“Didn’t realize we were keeping score,” she muttered. You snuck a smile. You stood up and she grabbed your hand as you hoisted her up.

“Grab onto my shoulder,” Leon said.

“Don’t push it rookie,” Ada muttered. You smiled, sharing a glance with Leon. You both liked her. It was probably going to be the wrong thing to do, you could feel it but you liked her anyway. Leon on the other hand didn’t seem to feel any apprehension toward her. “We need to get to the NEST. It’s below us, that’s where all the virus samples are,” Ada explained. “You guys up for that?”

“I think I can fit it into my schedule,” Leon said. “Y/N?” You nodded, holding up your gun.

“I think my aims getting better but I still gotta practice.”

“Come on, we got work to do,” Ada said.

“Yes ma’am.”

====

Ada concluded that, as much as she wanted to, she couldn’t keep going with her leg like the way it was. She handed you a wristband and made you and Leon promise to get the sample. She made you understand that once that sample was there, she would be back working with the FBI. You didn’t exactly trust that but you couldn’t bring her along.

You and Leon had gotten into a nice working partnership. You walked together, upgrading the wristbands and finding the parts you needed to create the sample.

“I was meant to have a partner when I joined the force,” Leon said, out of nowhere. You had just got done explaining everything you had done to each other back, just to make sure you were doing things right.

“Do you know who it would have been?” you asked. He shook his head.

“No, they hadn’t assigned anyone to me yet.” He looked over at you. “They wouldn’t have been as good as you thought,” he concluded. You scoffed.

“Leon, I learned to use this gun a whole five hours ago.”

“Has it really only been five hours?” “Honestly, I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t bring a watch. But regardless, you would have had someone fully equipped to deal with all this.” You gestured around you.

“No, no I think it works,” he said. “If there was someone equipped for all this I wouldn’t have as much fun.”

“You think this is fun?”

“Well I think it would be miserable if you weren’t here.”

“Well we can thank Claire for that one,” you said. You put your hand on his arm and he met your eyes. They were wonderful to look into. “Leon if we don’t make it out of this-”

“We’re gonna make it out of this,” he promised. “You, me, Claire, Ada and Chris.” You smiled.

“Leon, you're genuinely the best person I know,” you said, laughing. “And if I don’t make it out of this, I want you to know that.”

Your eyes lingered, locked on each other for just a moment too long. A zombie broke your thoughts. You turned around and shot it once in the head.

“Hey, your aim’s gotten really good!”

“I’ve had a good teacher.”

“Ada Wong?”

“Oh shut up Kennedy.”

====

You had the G-Virus sample in your hand, Annette Birkin behind you, Leon Kennedy to your side and Ada Wong pointing a gun at you.

24 hours ago, that sentence would have made no sense at all to you.

“Leon hand over the sample or she dies and I really don’t wanna kill her,” Ada said. You didn’t even have your gun out. If you moved you were scared she would just shoot you.

“I really liked you Ada,” you said.

“And I really like you,” she said.

“We were just pawns to you?” you asked.

“I’m just doing my job,” she said. Leon stepped between you and the gun.

“And I’m doing mine,” he said. “Drop the damn gun! I’m taking you in.” Officer Leon. You fought back the small smile, the fear creeping over you.

“Hand over the sample Leon. I don’t want to hurt either of you.” Leon lowered his gun. Your eyes went wide.

“Then shoot me but I don’t think you can.”

“Leon-” you started but he raised his hand, causing you to be quiet. Ada straightened her back but he was right. She couldn’t shoot him. She lowered her gun.

But she was shot anyway. It surprised all three of you. You turned, seeing Annette with the gun in her hand. The sample slipped out of Leon’s hand and down into the abyss. You slipped, grabbing onto the edge, holding on by only your finger. You looked over and noticed Ada was in the same position as you. Leon tried to extend his arms to get both of you but he had no leverage.

Ada met his eyes.

“Save her,” she demanded. Leon closed his eyes for just a moment, pretending this wasn’t happening and Ada’s grip loosened. Leon cursed under his breath and grabbed your arm, pulling you up. You shook your head, reaching over to grab her but she was already gone. Leon couldn’t bring himself to look.

He wrapped his arms around you and the two of you ran through what was left of the bridge.

“Nine minutes till detonation,” the building said. You grabbed your gun and started to run through the building.

“Who is that?” Leon asked. You turned to what he was looking up at. There was a screen and someone furiously typing. Your eyes went wide.

“Claire! She’s alive!” You felt a rush of relief like you had never felt before and leaned over the edge. “Claire!” “Y/N? Leon?! You’re down here too?”

“Yeah but the whole place is coming down,” Leon said. “Listen, you need to get out. Fast!”

“Yeah, there’s a way out,” Claire said. “We can make it! Where are you now?”

“Don’t worry about us,” you said.

“Y/N? Hey, you’re breaking up.”

“Forget about us! Get out of here!” you said. Leon grabbed your arm.

“We have to go, come on.” You nodded and followed him away from the screen.

====

After a fight with one of the damn monsters that hadn’t stopped pestering you, you and Leon finally landed on a train car that was moving quickly out of the city. You looked at the dead bioweapon as it disappeared behind you.

You hit your head against the train wall and let out a soft sigh. Leon turned to you and hugged you tightly to him. You wrapped your arms around him, breathing him in, memorizing his scent.

“Is it too forward if I say you make me feel really fucking safe?” you asked. He put his lips on the top of your head and you closed your eyes.

“I’m a police officer. It’s what I’m supposed to make you feel.” You laughed dryly and tightened your grip.

“Alright Officer Kennedy,” you said against his chest. “How do I make you feel?” He closed his eyes gently and you could feel him smiling against your hair.

“Secure,” he whispered. “Warm,” he said quicker, like he was changing his mind.

“I think that’s cause it’s hot in here.” You both laughed and you pulled away. Your eyes lingered on his and you put your hand on his cheek.

“Can..can I..” he stuttered but you kissed him before he could finally spit it out. He melted against your kiss, molding into you perfectly. He put his hand gently on your cheek. You would have kissed forever had there not been a clash in the other room.

You met his eyes and he pulled out his gun, stepping in front of you. He opened the door.

Claire stood there with a little girl. Your face lit up.

“Claire! Oh my God Claire!” You threw your arms around her and she hugged you tightly.

“You guys made it!” she said. You nodded, pulling away from her. There was a bang the way you came. Claire let out an annoyed sigh. “You guys wait here. I got this one.”

====

You, Leon, Claire and the little girl Sherry, all walked the road out of Racoon City. Claire was holding Sherry’s hand and you were holding Leon’s.

“So are you guys boyfriend and girlfriend?” Sherry asked you. You scoffed.

“I think it’s a little early for-”

“Yeah,” Leon said. You met his eyes. “If that’s okay!”

“It’s perfectly okay,” you said. Claire wiggled her eyebrows.

“What did I miss?” You scoffed.

“You left me and I had to find my own way around,” you said. She shrugged.

“I seem to remember it was a mutual leaving.” You rubbed Leon’s hand and brushed the bracelet he was still wearing. It was Ada’s, the wristband she had given the two of you. Leon seemed to notice it right when you did. You both felt a pant of guilt. She had helped you and now she was gone. But she had also betrayed you.

You had conflicting feelings.

He let your hand go and took it off.

“I only wear one woman’s jewelry,” he said and tossed it down on the ground, walking past it. You rolled your eyes.

“You still have it?” He took the necklace out from around his neck. You laughed.

“I thought you would’ve lost it when we were falling off that bridge,” you said. He shook his head.

“I guess I can give it back to you now,” he said, semi solemnly. You shook your head.

“Keep it. It’ll remind you of me.”

“You guys are adorable!” Claire said. You rolled your eyes.

“Look!” Sherry said. She pointed to an upcoming truck. “Maybe they can give us a ride?” she suggested.

“What if it’s not just the city?” Claire asked.

“She could be right.”

“Get Sherry out of here,” Leon said. He pointed to you. “Go with them.”

“No,” you said, taking out your gun. He laughed gently. He had no intention of arguing with you. The truck drove up and the driver flipped you all off through the window. You scoffed.

“He was friendly,” Leon said.

“So...is it over?” Claire asked.

“I don’t know,” Leon said. He slipped his hand back into yours. “But if it isn’t we’ll stop it.” You nodded, looking back toward Claire and Sherry then at Leon again before speaking.

“Whatever it takes.”

Part 3

Series Tag List: @ceruleanrainblues, @scarletrosesposts, @stardancerluv

[loudlyunladylike]

"You say everyone has a good side Quackity and you're right, you're right everyone has a good side but that good side is only there to help themselves. If you want to really help people you're going to need power, Quackity. You can- you can make a movement, you can make a resistance alright, you can go out and you can come back and they'll give you a ticker tape parade, they'll cheer for you in the streets but you will change nothing. If you have a revolution everyone will hate you, you will sacrifice everything and you will lose everything you ever had but you'll come back and everything will be changed. And Quackity if you want to change things you're going to need power, that's what you want really isn't it, look at me. And power isn't gained from diplomacy and bureaucracy and giant court houses suspended in the sky, blah blah blah. It's gained from swords Quackity, it's gained from blades, it's gained from steel, iron. Even if everyone has this good side that you're talking about then anyone who wants to prove it has to show their darkside first. You're going to have to kill, you're going to have to torture, you're going to have to maim. When I look at you, as a fellow outsider, you're not ready for that. I'm leaving."

- President Wilbur Soot

[ladykailitha]

Metal band sequel

WIP Wednesday! Make me write!

Other asks here, here, here, here,. here.

Snippet

Eddie, Steve, Robin, and Chrissy all paid for their day badges and slipped into the convention center. Steve was immediately overwhelmed. He had played to sold out stadiums, but that couldn’t hold a candle to sheer amount of people milling about. Mostly because there was a barrier between him and the people.

They could see all sorts of cosplayers wandering around the halls. Some in crappy little homemade stuff with cardboard and duck tape. Others in minimal effort costumes like they were. Then there were the people in cosplays that must have taken weeks, if not months to make. Warhammer space marines, a Krogon, and War from Darksiders, Hela from Marvel, a nine tailed fox, complete with hand dyed kimono.

They saw a couple of people dressed as angels from that one long running TV show. Then they passed a booth that proudly displayed that they were the Salt Lake City chapter of the Ghostbusters. Complete with their own Echo 1.

What really cinched it though was passing the main stairs and seeing all Scooby-Doo gang people taking group pictures on them.

[platypanthewriter]

Third Time's The Charm (Mindflayer: Take three)

Day Two of Harringrove AUgust, prompt:  Darkside AU

Billy’s eyelids felt as dry and crisp as potato chips as he tried to force them open. He could hear the shuffle of shoes against the linoleum, and the beeps and whirs of the hospital equipment, and then something brushed his face. Cool fingers.

“Open your eyes, William,” said Steve Harrington’s calm voice, and Billy jerked back in the bed, blinking at the dark shape hovering over him. His bandages tugged, and he flinched at the deep ache in his chest.

“Harrington,” he tried to say, but it came out more of a hoarse wheeze.

“I pushed you too hard before,” Harrington said, “—with no reward, but I think I know how you work, now. You want this boy, don’t you?”

“What,” Billy breathed, staring.

“You want him to pat you with his fleshy paws,” said the thing that was not Harrington, and Billy laughed sharply as Harrington’s hand stroked up his bare arm, and ran a thumb up his jaw. The thing smiled. “You want to taste his saliva.”

“Gross,” Billy choked out, shaking, but the thing leaned in, and Harrington’s lips were warm on his own.

“You will help me,” said the Mindflayer, pulling back, “—and you will have what you want.”

“Let him go,” Billy whispered, with no actual hope that it would. “What—what do you want?”

“You know what I want,” it said, and Billy’s stomach churned, remembering. “And if I don’t have it, I will—”

“Wait, I—I’ll do it,” Billy breathed.

It wasn’t hard to pick a victim—Billy’s dad may have been completely reasonable in hating his faggot son, but he was shitty to Max too, and Susan, and Billy’s mom—and there weren’t a lot of people he figured would listen to Billy Hargrove.

Problem was, Billy’s dad didn’t want to be lured out. Billy stared at the phone in the phone booth, thinking, and then tried saying he was injured at the abandoned drive-in theater on the edge of town—his car had broken down—and his dad just suggested he learn to not drink and drive.

As Billy tried to think of something more convincing to say, the Mindflayer grabbed the phone, and said “This is Steve Harrington, sir. We could really use your help. Bring the sheriff.”

There was a pause, and Billy knew his dad was repeating the name Harrington, like he always did talking about the richest family in town, the ones with the life he wanted, the people he wanted his family to match up to.

“See you soon,” said the Mindflayer, but it was frowning with Steve Harrington’s face, and Billy wondered whether Steve was the one who’d grabbed the phone.

 Billy’s dad didn’t take long, pulling up to the phone booth in the parking lot of the abandoned drive-through theater, and slamming the door of his car. He hadn’t brought the sheriff. Harrington grabbed his arm as he reached for Billy—and Billy didn’t have to watch, now, what the Mindflayer did with its victims.

He sat gripping one of the dilapidated benches, curled over to puke at the sounds, until he heard shoes scuff towards him again, and looked up to see a smile on Steve Harrington’s face. The Mindflayer knew which muscles to contract for a smile, Billy reflected distantly, but it didn’t look quite like a person, more like a doll, a ventriloquist’s dummy’s wide-stretched grin.

“Get up,” the thing said, and Billy staggered to his feet as his father—not his father, anymore, he reminded himself, another thing—drove away. The Mindflayer yanked him up when he didn’t move fast enough, nearly yanking his arm out of its socket as it slammed him against the bottom edge of the old projection screen. “Time for your reward. Take what you want,” it said. “Do you want to put things in his holes?”

“No!” Billy wheezed, wincing as it clenched Steve’s hand on his shoulder to hold him in place. He screamed as his collarbone broke under the force of its grip. It fixed Harrington’s mouth over his, hot and clumsy, and Billy tried to just let it happen, his brain a jumble of pain, lust, and terror as Harrington’s grip closed around his neck, and teeth clonked into his—until Harrington’s voice sounded different, suddenly, low and urgent.

“Let me,” he said. “Let me, let me, you’re killing him—you can’t—if you kill him, he can’t help you—”

“Harrington,” Billy gasped, choking for air, and then Harrington was really kissing him, one hand steadying Billy’s jaw, the other against Billy’s side, holding him steady as he staggered.

It was so good, Billy thought, his stomach twisting with revulsion, the pain of his broken collarbone making him pant as his eyes filled with tears.

“You taste like puke,” Harrington said, making a face, but he leaned in again, his brown eyes open as his lips met Billy’s and opened against them.

Billy moaned, a little—he couldn’t help it, not with Steve Harrington’s actual hands on him, and Steve’s tongue against his. Even possessed by a monster, Harrington looked kinda smug, and Billy hated him still, a little, for barely knowing Billy existed, and all the things Billy’d done by himself to survive, because he didn’t have anyone he could call.

Harrington had friends, Billy reminded himself. Billy didn’t need to think too hard about kissing Harrington, because Harrington’s friends would come, and they’d stop the Mindflayer, and help him, and Harrington wouldn’t come to himself a bloody mess at the mall, barely able to keep from murdering a child.

Somebody’d probably put a bullet in Billy’s brain, he thought, hissing in pain as Harrington shifted closer, and the broken edges of Billy’s collarbone scraped together. His brain filled with the white noise of pain, and he shuddered as he felt the new scraping agony of his collarbone, and the old, dull ache of his wound at the mall.

Harrington’s hands were careful, tipping Billy’s head to kiss him deeper.

His friends would kill the Mindflayer for good, Billy thought, humming a little hysterically against Harrington’s lips. They’d make sure Billy’s body didn’t get used again, either to transport a monster, or as leverage. All Billy had to do was keep the Mindflayer distracted, until then. Until they saved Harrington, and put Billy down.

“Enough,” came the still, calm voice from Harrington’s mouth, and the smile, as he stepped back.

“Who else do you want me to lure out here,” Billy asked, his hands flat against the wall of screen behind him to keep himself upright. The Mindflayer’s face twitched, and Billy wondered, his whole left shoulder and side pounding with pain, whether Harrington wished Billy’d let him die.

 The Mindflayer suggested Steve’s girlfriend, Wheeler. “We need him to stop fighting,” it said, smiling as it staggered and nearly fell. Billy walked away, breathing through the pain as he tried to get far enough away to call without the Mindflayer hearing.

He stepped into the phone booth and ruffled through the pages until he found Henderson—the kid he’d seen Steve with, the one whose name he was fairly sure of, because he hung around Max. “The Mindflayer has Harrington,” he said, flatly. “You gotta...trap him, or something. Better than you did me.”

“What in the hell,” the kid started, and Billy sighed.

“We’re at the drive-through theater,” he said. “He’s gonna be suspicious if I try to lure him anywhere.”

“Max has been looking for you,” Henderson said, and Billy bet she had.

“Hurry up and do something,” he said, watching the Mindflayer, in Steve Harrington’s body. It waved. “It’s gonna kill me,” he said, feeling a weird calm distance at the words, “—and I’m pretty sure he’s not gonna stop it, this time.”

“Shit,” Henderson said.  "We'll need some time to get ready."

“Oh, also,” Billy said, nearly high with pain, adrenaline, despair, and the taste of Harrington’s kisses. “I gave it my dad. That’s important, right?” he asked. “You probably need to know that too.”

“Holy shit, you fed it a person?! Your dad?!” Henderson yelled, and Billy nodded, running his tongue over his teeth as he sighed.

“Yeah, I’m a monster.” He snorted a laugh and hung up, wandered out to sit on the bench next to the Mindflayer, and watch the sunset. After a couple of hours of staring at the sky, he reached over and squeezed the Mindflayer’s wrist.

“You’ll let him go if I do everything you want?” he asked, and the Mindflayer smiled again.

Billy’d thought he’d be reassuring Harrington by asking—even if he didn’t believe for a second that the Mindflayer would just politely leave—but then he remembered that Harrington could probably tell the same thing, and that he, Billy, was a moron.

 When the sirens started, Billy winced. “I called the sheriff,” he said. “Told him I wanted to turn myself in. Told him I...took you.”

“The sheriff,” repeated the Mindflayer, focusing its unblinking stare down the road.

When the sheriff arrived, it wasn’t in his usual vehicle—it was a huge old Jeep, and he scrambled down with a groan, stretching until his back popped, and wiping sweat from his face. “Get in, boys,” he said, sighing, and jerking his thumb at the Jeep. When Billy was slow getting up—any motion of his arms flexed his collarbone, and his legs felt shaky on their own—the sheriff grabbed him by the shoulder.

Billy swallowed back a high noise in the back of his throat, realizing wildly that there was no reason to believe the Mindflayer had Harrington, no reason to believe him, only a waste of space they’d all seen possessed before, now making threatening phone calls. He closed his eyes, grimacing, and waited for the gasoline to soak him, or the muzzle of the gun to be pressed to his head, but the sheriff just watched Harrington walk towards the Jeep.

Harrington—the Mindflayer, Billy reminded himself—yelled, and he opened his eyes to see him lying on the ground, while the deputies, Hopper, and some other people held him down with their feet. Billy stared, watching the thing try and pretend they were wrong, laughing and pointing at Billy. They were wrapping his whole body in what looked like duct tape, wrapping his arms to his body and his legs together as he thrashed and swore.

It was probably assuming it would kill them while they drove, he realized, and opened his mouth, but they just tossed it into the Jeep and closed the doors, just watching it, like the Jeep was gonna take the Mindflayer back to the future, or start driving itself, or something.

Harrington started screaming. His feet banged against the inside of the tailgate, and the sheriff wandered back over to Billy.

“They trained us in those Jeeps for the National Guard, and for ‘Nam,” he said, with satisfaction. “The heaters can melt the snow two meters around, in January.”

“What,” Billy asked, completely lost. The sheriff put his hands on his belt, and Billy held his arms out, wrists together, expecting the cuffs, this time, but the man just shook his head, his lips thin.

“Go siddown, kid,” he said. “We’ll get you back to the hospital.”

 Billy awoke again to the beeping of hospital machines. His arm was in a sling, and he remembered his broken collarbone, wresting his eyes open on the ceiling, and a dark shape. He flinched, hissing with pain, and Harrington’s voice came again.

“Sorry,” he whispered. “I just—I feel like—”

“Fuck,” Billy breathed, shutting his eyes again.

“It seems wrong to thank you for...that,” Harrington muttered. “But you—your dad—you’re why I’m alive, so. Uh. Thanks.”

“Whatever,” Billy sighed, wondering if he sold everything—his car, his records—if he could afford a plane flight back to California, and out of this conversation where the straight boy he’d masturbated over—who’d gotten possessed, who Billy’d groped and kissed while he was possessed—thanked Billy for helping him murder Billy’s dad.

“...so. Yeah,” Harrington said awkwardly, and Billy snorted a laugh.

“Fuck off, Harrington,” he whispered, his throat raw.

“You did all that to save me,” Harrington said, blankly. “All it had to do was take me, and you helped.”

“I got a history with that thing,” Billy reminded him, rolling his eyes.

“You’re a really horny bastard,” Steve said, still vaguely, like he was figuring it out, and Billy started laughing so hard he hurt. “Y’know who else pulls pigtails,” Harrington said, darkly. “Kids, that’s who. Children. Fucking...kindergartners.”

It wasn’t even that funny, but knowing Harrington knew, and wasn’t pissed off, was such a relief Billy couldn’t stop giggling. His eyes blurred with tears.

“I won’t tell anyone,” Harrington said, belatedly, and Billy breathed out a sigh he didn’t even know he’d been holding.

“...d’you know what they’re gonna do with me?” he asked, hoarsely.

“What?” Harrington asked.

“I wasn’t possessed,” Billy whispered, laughing, a sharp painful bark. “Why am I—am I going to jail, or—?”

“No,” Steve said, blinking at him. “No, you saved me. We’ll figure it out.”

“Can’t believe you wanna be in the same room as me,” Billy laughed again, shutting his eyes and cringing through the pain.

“...oh,” Harrington said, and Billy winced. “I don’t...I don’t mind if you’re in love with me,” he said, and in the cold blue light from the hallway, Billy could see a smirk on Harrington’s stupid face. “I know you’d do anything for me now, right,” he said, grinning.

I don’t love you, I just wanna fuck you, Billy thought of saying, or I’m a fucking faggot, I’d do anyone, or I thought I was gonna die anyway, moron, something to shock Harrington out of looking illogically happy to find out Billy was willing to commit murder if Steve Harrington was a hostage. “...fuck,” Billy whispered.

“Oh! I know...your um, your...dad,” Harrington said incomprehensibly, grimacing. “But uh, Max and Susan are okay,” he said, squeezing Billy’s hand, like that was a thing now, and Billy stared at him, remembering squeezing Harrington’s wrist, when he thought they’d both die. “Thanks for saving me, Hargrove,” he said again, his hand tight over Billy’s, and Billy swallowed, watching his face. “Now go the fuck to sleep.”

Harrington sat beside him the whole night, his warm thumb stroking Billy’s wrist after Billy’s eyes drifted closed.

[marsmarvel02]

More TBLT BotBots Stuff

So, I had planned to be productive on my vacation, and spend all the time sitting in the car drawing TBLT characters as BotBots. That plan didn’t exactly work out, but I do still have ideas for TBLT characters as BotBots.

Parts Shop Appliances: Rumors swirl in the Mall about a group of appliance ‘bots that live in the Dark Side of the Mall and are fond of doing rather... unpleasant things to any unlucky travelers they stumble across. In actuality, the B-Movie Bozos might look scary, and love to spook any ‘Bot they might find, but they would never deliberately harm anyone. Their pastime is to head over to the abandoned video store that’s directly across the hallway from their parts shop home and watch one of its many MST3K tapes.

Cutting-Edge Appliances: Born in a store that’s not as run-down as the rest of the Dark Side, they were top-of-the-line back when the store was open... yeah, not so much anymore seeing as that was the late 80s. They still believe themselves to be advanced, and will be in for a rude shock if they ever encounter the Techie Team. They call themselves the “Tip-Top Technologies”, but the other Darksiders have nicknamed them the “’More More More’ Morons”.