#they started soft they started with weird scenes and a bit of violence and then they built up to the point of snuff and etc

[the-acid-pear]

Sorry but I cannot see this and not comment bc you tagged this as both A Serbian Film and The Human Centipede which I feel are AWFUL examples for what you're describing. Sure ASF does go a bit overboard but it's purpose is more meta similar to THC 2 which is just trying to push the audience's buttons, esp in the first which is commentary on Serbian society (to which I cannot say much on bc I'm not familiarized with it). ASF also has a pretty straight forward plot about the exploitation of the porn industry too which again while it gets muddied as the movie goes on its never lost its always about that.

The human centipede for its part is barely even a gore movie (at least the first one, the second is just a shock fest which i don't totally enjoy but i respect). The whole movie is an exploration of Heiter's character from him switching from separating life to joining it (you'd interpret this character development in many ways) to the grief of having lost his dogs and trying to recover them with this centipede which he still treats as an animal despite not being one... It's a really straight forward movie without much shock at all. Sure it's a wacky concept when you take it at face value but it's genuine enough to work.

And the third movie does have more gore but if you don't find a man being waterboarded with boiling water or a man being castrated only for the man to cover his face and shiny bald head with his blood afterwards funny then idk what to tell you :/

I hate horror movies that are just gorey for the sake of being gorey.

Like oOooh you're so dark and edgy, cool, but there is no meaning to your violence. It doesn't add depth to the plot (if the movie even bothered to establish a coherent one to begin with, which is rare in a lot of horror movies) it doesn't convey any sort of message and sometimes it doesn't even make sense for it to be there in terms of character motivation. Heck, sometimes the gore isn't even fun. Like, if you did it in a fun way I'd like it for shits and giggles (which is the case of Saw, for example) but most of the time the gore is just there for the sake of shock factor, and, ironically, despite the fact that this kind of content is considered "adult" it just comes off as extremely childish.

On a similar note, I also hate it when a movie's idea of "horror" is just cheap jumpscares. Horror in movies should be slow, claustrophobic, and all consuming, not a FNAF jumpscare (Keep in mind that I'm talking about movies here, I actually kinda like jumpscares in horror games lol)

Those two combined are the opposite of my bread and butter, they're my cardboard and broken glass.

Anyway, fuck "in your face" horror movies. Thanks for coming to my ted talk.

[seraphhskies]

a little game - ghostface (billy loomis)

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Billy Loomis t. x Fem. Reader | Smut

Warnings: 18+, language, violence, fear, reader doesn't know he's an actual murderer, chase scene, knifeplay- starts off fluffy though!

Word Count: 2.1k A/N: I have quite literally never written anything like this before! I hope it's good and tysm for reading! If you have requests, feel free to lemme know & provide feedback!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

It had been a wonderfully normal evening. 

It was dark outside, raining slightly, and remarkably peaceful for a town that was being plagued by murder. You, however, had no worries as you lay snuggled up with your boyfriend on the couch. 

You had called him over earlier that day, with the promise that the house belonged to the two of you. Your parents were out of town for the weekend, and you didn’t want to stay alone. 

You were nestled in his lap, Billy’s arms across your waist pulled you impossibly closer. Your eyes were fluttering shut as he pressed kisses to your jaw. 

“Mm.” You sighed, melting into him. 

The two of you were usually like this, all touch. Billy’s hands were on you in some form anytime you were around. 

But, the night had started innocently enough- believe it or not. Yeah, you may have dressed up a little for the occasion- but it was just a skirt. Nothing he hadn’t seen you in before.

Billy had brought food over, all grins as you opened the door. He’d even gone out of his way to rent your favorite movie and grab a few snacks you liked. 

A soft laugh broke the silence and your thoughts, coming from you. His hands squeezed your ass, a wicked smirk on his face as he looked at you. 

“Where’d you go, pretty girl?” He murmured, voice low and dark- sending a shiver down your spine. 

“Just thinkin’ about you ‘s all.” You responded, nuzzling your face into his neck. He hummed in reply, tutting playfully. 

“You have me right here.” He reminded you. 

You returned the favor by biting his neck, chomping down to catch him off guard. A startled sound left him, before his hand came swiftly down onto your ass.

You yelped, face turning red at the sensation. Billy’s hand rubbed over it soothingly, groping at your thighs as well. You shifted in his lap, getting a groan out of him as you ‘accidentally’ wriggled to get comfortable. 

His hands guided you along his lap. It didn’t take long for the two of you to grind against one another. You could feel the clothed outline of his cock, a whimper leaving your mouth as he guided your hips along it. 

As you found a pace, Billy’s head tilted back onto the couch. Both of you were panting and moaning quietly, and you were pretty sure he could feel how wet you were for him through your panties.

Then, the phone started ringing. Your eyes darted over, Billy’s attention also drawn in by the phone.

You frowned, irritated by the noise but decided to ignore it. 

“You gonna get that?” Billy asked, breathless as your hips kept rolling against him. You shook your head, and he nodded approvingly. His grip was tight on you, and you shivered as his eyes rolled down your body.

You must have missed the predatory gleam in his eyes. 

Unluckily for you, the phone kept ringing. The third time it happened you scowled, murmuring a soft apology and pressing a kiss to your boyfriend's lips, before getting up to answer it.

Billy didn’t protest, watching you with a dark hunger.

You answered the phone in the kitchen, back turned from your boyfriend. “Hello?” You asked. 

The caller greeted you with your name, and you frowned. “Who is this?” 

“Do you wanna play a game?” The voice asked, and you froze. It was dark and creepy, the question sending a shiver down your spine. 

“No.” You answered shortly, hanging up the phone. You sighed, a bit weirded out, but turned around with the expectation that Billy would be on the couch.

Only, he was gone. 

“Billy?” You called, arms wrapping around yourself for comfort. No answer. 

The phone started ringing again, but you ignored it. Instead, you began looking around the house. Maybe he was in the bathroom or playing a prank on you?

After about five minutes of no luck, you heard something. You froze in your spot, eyebrows furrowing as the sound of glass breaking came from up the stairs. In your bedroom. 

Hesitantly, you began to go up the stairs before you paused. You needed a weapon. Something to stop the intruder, especially if they had broken in. A terrified breath left you, and you settled on sneaking quietly into the kitchen. 

You rummaged around for a knife, confusion filling you when you couldn’t find the largest one in the butcher’s block. Had the intruder already been able to grab a knife? More importantly, why had you never seen them?

A sinking feeling was in your stomach. You grabbed a smaller one, clutching it tightly as you settled on going up the stairs. 

If it weren’t for your worry for Billy, you probably would have left the house by now.

You didn’t make a peep as you crept up the stairs. You kept your breathing even, listening cautiously for the next noise. The hallway was short. Just your room, a bathroom, and your father’s office were upstairs. 

There were only so many rooms they could be in, you reassured yourself. Your hand was shaking, but you ignored it. 

That’s when you heard it- a door closing. Terror filled your body as your eyes darted to your room. You should have just called the police, waited for them to do something. You hadn’t even thought about it until now. 

Then, the lights went off. 

You covered your mouth, barely muffling your scream. It was short, as you realized that the important thing was to be quiet, but managed to slip past your lips. You shoved yourself against the wall in the hallway, chest heaving as you tried to calm down.

Your name was cooed. You were frozen in horror as you saw the glint of a white mask in the darkness, barely visible. Of course, he saw you too. You gripped your knife tightly. A horrible, awful part of you was enjoying the thrill. 

No words were uttered as he began walking towards you. That’s all it took for you to take off sprinting- tripping a little down the stairs as he chased right after you. His pace quickened along with your heartbeat. 

Tears began to gather in your eyes as he talked to you. “Did nobody tell you it’s dangerous to run with knives?” He taunted, cackling as you slipped and caught yourself on the wall. It sounded so much like your boyfriend… but you screamed internally at yourself. 

Don’t stop running.

The door was right there, right in front of you- as you were cruelly ripped away from it. You screamed, flailing as you were dragged back against the man’s chest. Your own chest heaved with distress, eyes widening as a knife was held to your throat. The same one that was missing. 

“Hello, pretty girl.” He crooned in your ear. 

His hand was around your waist, the sharp edge of the blade pressed tightly against your throat. 

“Billy?” You panted, nothing but distress in your tone. You wanted to be relieved that it was him, wanted to feel that the heat pooling at your core was not as bad now. 

“Ding, ding, ding.” You could hear the smirk in his voice. 

“You- you fucking asshole,” You huffed, realizing halfway that it probably wasn’t the smart decision. “You’re scaring me.” 

“That’s kinda the point, sweetheart.” There was an eyeroll in his response. “Don’t you wanna spice things up?” He teased, your breath becoming shallow as he dragged the tip of the knife down your clothed body.

You shivered. “What, was it too much for you?” Billy continued to croon beneath the mask. Your brows furrowed at the challenge, head screaming no- but the slickness pooling between your legs was another thing. 

“No,” You breathed, finally. 

You could hear the grin in his voice when he replied. “Good girl.” He cooed, voice dark and yet smooth as honey. He got rough with you almost immediately. 

You were more turned on by it than you’d like to admit. Yeah, you two had talked about things a few weeks ago- but you hadn’t expected him to pretend to be a killer and chase you. It was thrilling in a horrible, wonderful way. 

Billy pushed you onto the couch. “On your knees.” He demanded. “Put your hands up here.” You obliged quickly, spurred by the knife that was being guided down your skin. 

A moan left your lips as his free hand drifted to your cunt, rubbing you through your panties. “You little slut,” He chuckled. “You’re definitely enjoying this.” You whimpered.

An embarrassed blush crossed your cheeks, and you craned your neck to watch him over your shoulder. His finger traced over your clothed clit, another moan escaping as he drew tight circles. 

At some point, he grew bored of toying with you over your underwear. He brandished the knife, cutting them off of you. You gasped, biting your lip. 

A finger prodded at your core, entering with ease. You heard Billy’s dark chuckle at that. He began to move, inserting another two fingers before deeming that you were ready. You heard his pants hit the floor, the rustling of fabric, and a low groan as he stroked himself. 

You were aching for him at this point, whining and letting your head droop as his tip rubbed through your folds. 

“Please,” You begged. Billy was teasing, his mask tilting as you looked back at him. 

“Please what?” He replied.

“Please fuck me,” You murmured, and he sighed. He moved closer, but didn’t do as you asked. Frustrated, you pushed your hips back. He responded with a swift smack to your ass, pulling away. 

“Please! Please just-” You cried, having needed him all evening. “Please fuck me.”  He gave his approval in a groan, the desperation in your tone getting the message across. 

He slid into you with ease, a loud, satisfied moan rewarding him. “Shit-” He cursed, sinking into you. “So fuckin’ tight.” The comment went straight to your core, and you clenched around his cock. 

Billy pulled you up, gripping your waist in one hand as he pulled you flush against his body. Your eyes fluttered shut, pleased sounds leaving your mouth as he pushed in deeper. He fit inside you perfectly, his cock somehow always managing to hit the perfect spot. 

He began to move, giving you just a second to adjust, before he was rough with you. His knife, which had never left his hands, was held at your throat once more. He dragged in and out of your walls deliciously, the sound seeming to echo in the still dark room. 

You felt so good, moaning prettily for him as he absolutely ravaged you. He was fast, and far from gentle. The grip on your waist was sure to leave bruises, and there was no doubt you’d have trouble walking tomorrow. 

The knife would scrape just slightly on your throat, a high pitched whine escaping you as you leaned back- the man growling in your ear at the feeling.

You were dizzy with want, one hand gripping onto whatever part of his body you could get. The other drifted to your clit, your hips bucking backwards as you began to rub circles. 

“There you go,” He groaned in your ear. “Gonna cum on my dick, pretty thing?” 

“Y-yes!” You whined loudly, hoping your neighbors weren’t home. 

“Come on,” Billy encouraged, slamming into you a bit faster. “Cum for me.” He growled, digging his free hand into your skin. 

Your eyes squeezed shut, body shivering as you did exactly what he said. You managed out a weak “Fuck!” before you were cumming, Billy groaning as you squeezed his cock- walls fluttering around him. 

The pleasure rolled over you in waves, nearly dizzying in its intensity. You were a shuddering, moaning mess as you came undone for him. “There you go, sweetheart.” He encouraged, voice sounding strained.

Billy wasn’t far behind, his hips beginning to stutter and pace quickening. He didn’t ask if you wanted him to pull out, instead slamming his cock as deep as he could into you. You could feel the way his cock kicked, emptying into you. 

The knife dropped from his hands, grip loosening a bit as he allowed pleasure to consume him. You were panting, a soft hiss leaving your mouth when he finally pulled out.

“Holy shit,” You breathed, twisting into a more comfortable position. You could feel the slickness in between your thighs worsen, panties ruined and skirt doing little to hide the view. 

Billy removed his mask as the power fluttered back on, giving you a wicked grin.

[clairegregoryau]

Through the Looking Glass

From fairytale in Season 1 to stark reality in Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death- meta ported across from this Twitter thread by popular demand!

This thread contains spoilers for the entirety of OFMD Season 2

First OFMD S1 rewatch since S2, and holy shit, if you haven't done that yet... do that. A thing that it made instantly clear: they told us *all along* where this was going, but there was a reason we didn't see it. Because we were living in Stede's world then. Now it's Ed's.

I know that a lot of us have felt that the tone shift at the end of S2 was... jarring, compared to what's come before. This felt like a show that wouldn't go there. One where being run through was a temporary hiccup. We've travelled all the way from this to this.

But we haven't jumped there without a journey in between. And from the minute we started hearing about Blackbeard, the show never tried to hide what Ed's world and his specific life was like. Not once. In fact they told us over and over and over.

But Season 1 told us a lot of those things through song and story and fuckery. It blended reality with fiction.

Stede met the Blackbeard he knew through books and tall tales, and the real man was even more wonderful than he'd imagined.

We, along with Stede, were comfortable thinking that all those other tales were exaggerations and misrepresentations, and a lot of them very likely were.

The Ed Stede got to know was a person who was capable of whimsy and silliness and loved soft things and doing something weird. Yep, he was also capable of violence and rage, but when he was with Stede, he didn't feel it so much.

This was a vacation from that life.

To Stede he was absolutely lovely... oh, and also a bloodthirsty killer. And Stede loved (and loves) everything about him, and both of those things can be true. This is a perfect example of a spot where (in watching Season 1 without the benefit of hindsight) I assumed that everyone else in that pub was wrong, and Stede was simply trying to protect Ed's fearsome reputation by agreeing on the bloodthirsty bits. And I think from Stede's perspective that was largely true. I think that's how they wanted us to see Ed, through his eyes. Now, after watching both seasons, I think it wasn't the whole picture.

They told us, we heard it, we saw glimpses of it. But we (and Ed) were in Stede's run-away-to-sea fairytale the whole time. It wasn't until Stede left that we saw the reality- the Ed we knew had been, to a degree, a fictional character all along. I always saw this scene as Ed putting a bit of distance between himself and reality; it always felt like the Blackbeard of Stede's storybooks was the fictional one. But now it feels like the softer Ed that Stede knew was much the same- neither of them the whole story of who Ed was and is.

The one person who refused to live in Stede's fairytale was Izzy. I've seen people say it before, but he always gave off that vibe of the only human in the Muppets movie, or the guy who was in Black Sails while everyone else was in Pirates of the Caribbean. He saw the real risks clearly.

And in that light, the end of S1 has shifted an inch to the left for me, and I'm seeing it at a slightly different angle.

Izzy ripped away the healing Ed was doing, but in some respects he did it by tearing away the fairytale we'd all been living in, shoving Ed back into the Blackbeard story.

And that's where we pick up again in Season 2.

The fairytale reference came back in S2 in two notable places, those being Jim carrying that legacy forward in the darkest times, and in Izzy invoking the wooden boy against Ricky's efforts. Stede's made himself into a real boy. Ricky, nope.

Now that I've watched both seasons together, the tone shift doesn't feel so jarring at all, actually.

It feels like sliding through the looking glass, out of Stede's world, and into Ed's- a world that existed all along; we were just seeing it, la vie en rose, through Stede's eyes.

At the beginning of S2, Stede's gone, and we're seeing it unfiltered through Ed's reality.

But Stede wasn't lying when he said he loved everything about Ed. He made a promise to come back and find him- he went down into Ed's darkest place and reminded him that no matter how bad things got, there WAS someone waiting for him, ready to love him.

The contrast between S1's fantasy and S2's reality (excluding mermaids and actual bird guys and cursed coats) is stark, but it really is that.

We have the same settings, the same people, and very different ideas and outcomes at different times.

But it was always there.

Things do come back to a state of (precarious) balance once they're all together. Apologies are made, whether they're spoken out loud or through actions. Things go right, things go wrong. Healing happens. Izzy continues to have the steadiest, most real through-line in the story as he tracks toward redemption, finds acceptance, and to an extent finds himself.

Once again, I hate that they went here with the ending and I wish they hadn't. But it got a fraction easier for me looking at it not as a continuation of Stede's fairytale, but of the grounded-in-pirate-reality arc Izzy was always on, even while we lived in Stede's world.

Where does that leave us? We're not going back to the fairytale, but we're not going to be living in Black Sails for S3, either. We've hit a fusion point where S1 ended with each of them going to separate, miserable homes, but S2 ended with them in the same place, ready and willing to make a go of it.

Season 3 is going to give us their world, together.

I LOVED the moments in this season where the deep emotions were in balance with the silliness I've always adored about this show. Eps4-6 were wonderful like that. Clearly we're not done with drama, either, but like Ed and Stede, I think we'll find a middle ground.

Anyway in conclusion, a rewatch of S1 after S2 somehow made me love the first season even more, which felt impossible? It's now gained /even more/ layers of depth than it had before. No matter how you feel about S2 I think it's worth that rewatch.

Adding one more bit of clarity for myself: I think we got a bit (intentionally) seduced in S1 by the idea that the Ed of the storybooks, the Vampire Viking Clown with the nine guns, was a version of him that others saw, when Stede saw the REAL person who 'worked' for Blackbeard.

In hindsight I think it's clear the Ed Stede go to know was also not the complete version of himself- the reality is, there's a whole spectrum between the two, and they've landed in the middle of it now. Ed intentionally leaned into the unlovable Kraken image to protect himself.

It very much didn't work, just like being just... Edward hadn't worked to protect himself, either. This season has been very much about pulling those two extremes together and finding all the parts that make up Ed overall (another thread on that here on Twitter, which I'll also shift across to Tumblr soon!)

And I think one of my favourite things in S2 has been seeing the way Stede SEES that- he knows what Ed's done, everyone's told him, but he still loves Ed. sees his trauma and how it affects him, and believes he's a good man regardless. He IS lovable; he's not forever broken.

And together, they can heal.

[bonefall]

Is there any one particular bit in Ivypool's heart that really stands out concerning wanting to tackle it in BB (be it lovingly or with violence)?

I'll do you two; a loving tackle and a violent tackle!

VIOLENT TACKLE:

Dovewing and Ivypool do NOT have a good relationship in BB, and furthermore, I absolutely refuse to let Ivypool be a healthy and well adjusted individual at this point in her life. ABSOLUTELY not. The Erins have dropped a raw steak at my feet and given me an opportunity to display BB!Ivypool's Dovewing Derangement Syndrome on full blast and I am shaking it like Whistlepaw shakes a newborn baby.

I was really craving someone on this journey not being patient with Ivypool, and seeing her act unreasonably on her pain and loss.

I wanted to see her get nasty with someone, and have them fight back. I wanted to see someone get angry that she was insensitive towards them when they've ALL gone through similar things. It kinda felt like everyone on this journey was there to give Ivypool therapy, not work out their issues as a group.

For BB, I also want to give Dovewing and Ivypool some soft moments of mutual understanding, but... in the end, they do not reconcile because Dovewing does not want to.

And that's okay.

Ivypool will think she NEEDS her sister and her acknowledgement to move on, to have her accept an apology (which, truthfully, Ivypool doesn't entirely believe in) because it's SOME kind of closure when she won't get that with Bristlefrost... but she doesn't.

Moving on and healing is about the life you make in the wake of that loss. It's not Dovewing's responsibility to give her sister what she craves, it's up to Ivypool to make meaning in her own life. It's about the friends she will find, the wide world there is to discover, and the ways she can make things better for the Clans in Bristlefrost's name.

Even when the bridge is burned... the river still runs.

(As a side note, I've also TOTALLY gotta work in a moment where Ivy and Dove come across their mom, Cinderheart, while she's out traveling with their aunt/stepmom Fallenleaf. This is the perfect opportunity for Ivypool to let out a bunch of anger she has towards them, but also have them get a little involved in the new supernatural stuff!)

Special mention to the Sisters stuff; in BB they are not Evil Neglectful Bad Moms Who Hate Men. Beach and Slate will be tweaked. I am already imagining a scene where Rootspring gets to have a Cool Older Brother moment and show off some cool tricks he figured out with his talisman.

(in BB, the male sisters don't genetically inherit the ability to see ghosts, they have a special necklace crafted for them that lets them call spirits without the need of a large group.)

(Slate also will not be needing a rename, because Slate DOTC has a full name now-- Slate Keeper. I'm still working on her, but she's essentially The Wind Runner's secretary.)

POSITIVE TACKLE:

DEFINITELY the "River of Souls," along with StormClan and the Wildcats. I'm still wary of the Wildcats and the way the Erins could possibly dip into some weird "genetic superiority" stuff in the future, but they actually did a pretty good job introducing them!

I love the way that Wildcat religion is essentially that everything is connected by three elements, and that their unique belief system allows them to travel between afterlives. I adore this so much that I'm going to start thinking of the various "afterlives" in BB as having a primary element which influences how they behave.

Silverpelt and Skypelt are primarily Wind-Element systems. This makes them mobile and powerful, but highly subjected to the whims of the living.

The Tribe of Endless Hunting is primarily a Water-Element system. It's a very present element, flexible and easy for individuals to access while also allowing spirits to interact with the mortal plane.

The Guardian's Firmament is primarily an Earth-Element system. They require setup and investment on behalf of their followers, in return for giving worshippers a very powerful and intimate connection to the land.

All afterlives contain a mix of elements, but have "affinities." I also immediately saw a juicy opportunity to introduce the idea that Wildcats dance around addressing "fire" as an element, considering it forbidden, or at the very least, wild and unpredictable.

One Eye, who created the Dark Forest as a curse, is a God of Summer. So the Place of No Stars is absolutely a Fire-Element-- and I'm going to keep it loose until I understand what that looks like better. I want to save a little bit of wiggle room for future Wildcat appearances.

I'm also warming up to the idea that the Sisters have some Wildcat influence. I'm probably going to adjust their lore a bit to make them a mixture of Tribe culture and Wildcat culture. I've got a budding idea that, because Wildcats are rare and their population is scattered, they have a sort of concept of like... "Making A Home Where You Are," no matter where that is, or what culture they become part of.

So I like the idea a lot that this "river" is part of that. They maintain a connection to each other, across distances. The Guide of a Wildcat kitten is their mentor, both in terms of spiritual and physical training.

I'll also be needing a new name for this rework. Part of me really wants to call it "Ivypool's Loss," both for the angle of grief and also for the meme lmao. But, "Ivypool's Catharsis" also works very nicely... and if I go with "Ivypool's Awakening" the abbreviation is IPA and I can make beer jokes.

[ardentpoop]

If it's okay to ask: what are your thoughts on meg and sexual assault? I really dislike the way a lot of people on here talk about it (and meg, especially meg 2.0, in general) so I wanted to hear your view on it if you'd like to share!

not totally sure if you mean you’re bothered by how people discuss meg as a perpetrator or meg as a victim, because one could easily argue both. there are obvious allusions to rape re: meg possessing sam’s body in BUABS (just as every possession arc incorporates allusions to rape - most notably sam’s as he is at the heart of the majority of these arcs and also because well. The Roles.) and there are also of course the scenes where meg gets grabby with both sam and dean as a show of force.

I’m gonna assume however that you’re referring to people speaking about meg 2.0 in a demeaning manner and not recognizing the excessive misogynistic violence she is subjected to as a character, because come on. I know what this fandom is like. the two key episodes that come to mind for me are “caged heat” and “goodbye stranger.” gonna share some dialogue excerpts to get my point across, but you could even just count how many times dean refers to meg as a “bitch” in caged heat because it is frankly impressive that the writers (this one was tag-teamed by a duo and neither of them are familiar names) were so committed to it in just the one episode.

[caged heat]

notes on the above excerpts:

as with all demons who inhabit female vessels meg’s sexuality is a main ingredient of her characterization as a villain. she speaks overwhelmingly in slimy innuendo and flirtatious-quips-as-insults, she forcefully kisses and touches sam and dean without their consent, she is frequently referred to as a “whore” accordingly. it’s worth noting however that although in this episode meg weaponizes her sexuality (as expected for every character like her) against samndean while she supposedly has them tied up at her mercy, it is soon revealed that meg cannot actually harm samndean and is on the run from crowley - the brothers have the upper hand and her threats are ultimately empty. meg’s power is taken from her at the very start of this episode.

compare meg being tortured by crowley’s henchman to crowley being tortured by meg moments later within the same episode. she is naked and strapped down, she is being assaulted with a knife. the dialogue smacks you over the head with implied rape, as if the scene wasn’t brutal enough on its own. what does crowley get in return from meg, when he greets her as “whore” immediately after this assault scene? he gets to writhe around a bit on the floor, fully-clothed of course. “the best torturers never get their hands dirty,” huh? convenient!

on top of all this we for some reason also needed cas testing out his Porn Tricks on meg - which, don’t get me wrong, I’ve always kind of had a weird soft spot for megstiel (gay edit), but you have to admit that the timing and the context rankles. recurring Woman Character who doesn’t serve as a love interest or sexual interest for one of the boys is very hard to come by around here.

[goodbye stranger]

robbie thompson committed many sins with this (tbfh) godawful episode but what I want to point out here specifically is the continuation of meg being victimized by crowley. with bonus treat of sam being spoken to in the same sexually demeaning manner, as I suppose is only fair and right when both meg and sam were given the “wait outside while the men take care of business, frail maiden” treatment because thompson could not resist an opportunity to serve up dstiel bait that interfered with the structure and logic of the episode as well as with dean’s (and meg’s!) characterization.

TL;DR yeah uh the fans never talk about any of this because they’re too high on dstiel fumes to critique anything about the writing if they’re getting their tasty tasty little flavorless morsels from the like 3 guys on the writing team who were willing to feed them.

sorry for being mean but not really bc you guys are so annoying and dense about the already horrifically mistreated female characters on this show. wish I knew specifically what types of meg takes you don’t like anon so I could confirm whether they’re the ones that are a product of people despising female characters who “get in the way.”

[luminetti]

𝑶𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒅𝒖𝒆 𝑨𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕𝒂𝒔𝒚 ༺♡༻ Chapter 1

༘⋆ Summary: In the world of Faerûn, a new season of love begins for the upper echelons in the nation's capital Baldur’s Gate, gathering a plethora of unwed Lords and Ladies from across the nation. For Miss y/n Neredras, the season only promises another disappointing series of suitors and failed courting, until one night she suddenly finds Lord Gale Dekarios of Waterdeep on her doorstep with a gunshot wound through his stomach, seeking discreet refuge and recovery after a devastating duel. ༘⋆ Pairing: lord!gale dekarios x fem!reader/tav, brief wyll x reader, mentions of (previous) mystra x gale ༘⋆Warnings: blood and bullet wounds, eventual hurt/comfort, mystra's weird predatory behavior (fuck mystra) ༘⋆Notes: set in the regency era and very loosely inspired by bridgerton (I’ve never watched it). i had to make a lot of edits to make this work out how i want so keep in mind that the following changes have been made: - Faerûn and Waterdeep are neighboring countries - Baldur’s Gate is the capital of Faerûn - Mystra (and all the gods) is human - Mystra lives in Waterdeep - Gale is 21 and reader is around 19 (something something, regency age for marriage, something)

༘⋆ Chapters: ┆[1] ┆[2]┆[3]┆[4]┆[5]┆[6] ┆[7] ┆

ao3

You cursed yourself for getting in such a position as you heaved a bloodied body onto your goose down bed sheets, dark sticky crimson clinging to your skin and the front of your white nightgown. The body landed with a soft flump, leaving a suspicious looking trail of blood towards the center of your bed. Normally you were against opening the door for strange men in the middle of the night, but a gunshot wound to the stomach usually prohibited acts of violence, unless the attacker wanted to bleed out to death, so you deemed it safe enough. You made sure to grab a fire poker from the fireplace on your way back from the medicine cabinet, just in case.

Blood was beginning to pool underneath the man, signaling that if you were to do anything, it had to be done with haste. Fighting back a gag at the tangy metal aroma, you undid his vest and undershirt, pulling it off and discarding it somewhere on the floor. The bullet had thankfully wedged itself near the surface of his flesh making it an easy grab with a pair of tweezers. The wound itself proved to be more of a challenge. Stitches were required to stop the bleeding, but the needle slipped around between your fingers, and attempting to wipe the slick blood off your hands just made more of a mess. After a bit of adjusting, and a lot of wiping, you finally managed a messy line of seven uneven stitches.

For the first time in the past half hour, the thumping of your heartbeat began to fade from your ears, allowing you to process what had just happened.

You took a moment to look him over. He looked around your age. Around twenty– no, twenty-one? It was hard to tell with so much hair in his face. From what you could make out, he appeared to be a reasonably attractive man. Perhaps a bit unkempt, you thought, but as to be expected at this time of night. With his chestnut brown hair, he vaguely reminded you of Clyde, your childhood dog. Though intended as a compliment, you made a mental note to keep that one to yourself when–if ever–he awoke. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep that was drawing you to the curve of his jawline, but with a start, you realize you had been staring for far too long. Blinking away your daydreams, you see the scene in front of you as it truly is.

There was a body in your bed.

You frantically reach over the bed to press two fingers firmly against his neck, feeling around for a pulse. Was he even still alive? A slow and faint periodical throb against your fingertips pulls a heavy sigh of relief out of your weary body, and you slump against the side of the bed. Thank the gods.

Unfortunately, the fact he was alive did not solve the strange-man-in-bed issue. Once he had been securely wrapped in several layers of bandages–any more and he may appear mummified–you weren’t sure what else there was to do. So, you recruited the only person in the household that could keep their mouth shut. Your older sister, Euphemia. 

“By Jove, sister… you’ve killed a man…” Euphemia looked pale-faced and wide eyed in horror at the seemingly lifeless body and blood adorning your room.

“Stop it.” You hissed under your breath, closing the bedroom door behind her. “He’s not dead. And would you keep your voice down?”

Euphemia looked from you to the body, then to your crimson hands and nightgown. “Are you to tell me he is… sleeping?” She asked, incredulously, her voice quavering.

You sighed, exasperated. You grabbed her wrist, much to her resistance, and forcefully pressed her fingers against his neck. “There. He is very much alive. Now will you please help me?” 

Your sister sighed in relief. “Gods… He looks mauled.” She eyed your butchered stitchings. “Not a slight on your abilities, of course. Spoken from a place of love.”

“Mock me all you want when we break fast, sister.” You toss her a wet washcloth. “As for now, make haste and wipe down the headboard. I’ll deal with the floor.”

“I merely jest.” She replied, rounding the bed beside the body.

As she approached the unconscious man, she froze, the cloth in her hand dropped to the ground as you heard a sharp intake of breath. Startled, you jump up from your knees.

“Hells, are you hurt?” You turned, expecting to see a splinter or bruise. Alas, Euphemia just stood shell shocked, staring down towards the body. You looked at the man yourself, but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Euphemia leaned closer to the body and swept the hair from his face. “I’ve seen this man’s portrait before.” She crouched beside him, studying his features. “It was in a museum of art from other nations.” Closing her eyes, she recounted the museum. “It was a family portrait. So this must be…” Euphemia turned back to you, mystified. “The Viscount of Waterdeep.”

You stared at her. “...Who?”

“The Viscount, Lord Gale Dekarios.”

✣ ✣ ✣

The rest of the night–technically the early morning–passed surprisingly peacefully, with the only hiccup being a lack of bed space. Euphemia made sure to chide you thoroughly for even suggesting that she take Gale to her room instead. In your defense, he had a larger bed than yours. After some back and forth, Euphemia declared that she’d be ruined if someone found her alone with a foreign Viscount, and her hopes of being courted would be gone. You, however, were newer to the season and very much single–which she didn’t hesitate to enunciate–and therefore could afford a scandal or two.

Cursing her under your breath, you reluctantly slipped under the covers, a good sixteen inches apart from the supposed Viscount. Despite everything, you easily drift off into a sound sleep.

A sudden shift in the bed startles you awake. Groggily, you sat up to see early morning sunrays softly beaming through your windows. Your mind clouds with exhaustion as you attempt to recall the night prior. In your fatigue you barely manage to picture a sharp jawline and soft brown hair. A dream, you conclude. Just another fantasy to forget about. You were about to lean back down when you heard the soft squeak of your bed spring from beside you, followed by a hushed murmur.

“Shit.”

Turning towards the voice, you came face to face with a pair of warm chestnut eyes, staring straight back at you. Lord Gale Dekarios–very much not from a dream–stood with one knee on your bed and his other foot on your floor, attempting to leave without a sound. His face was tense with pain and his hand pressed over the wet bandages covering his wound.

You made no move to stop him, merely watching as he gawked at you dumbstruck like a child with his hand trapped in a cookie jar. “What are you doing?” you asked.

It was as if you had two heads with the way he stared at you.

“My deepest apologies for the intrusion last night,” he managed to stammer out, quickly collecting himself and beginning to stand from the bed. “By Jove, I will leave right away-”

“Why?” You cut him off.

He choked out a confused sputter. “Pardon?”

You gestured to his bloodied bandages. “You are injured. Are you not?”

His eyes flicked to the wound before returning to your questioning gaze. “I am.” He replied, slowly.

“So sit. Unless you mean to walk home.” Standing from the bed, you scoured the room for the remainder of the bandages you brought from before.

Gale hesitantly perched himself on the edge of your bed frame, unsure how to proceed. After a couple moments of watching you flit around the room, he cleared his throat. “Pray tell, which residence am I in the company of?”

Upon gathering the materials and medicines, you sat across from him, laying out the paraphernalia in between you both. “This is the Neredras Manor,” you replied, beginning to work on replacing his dark, oxidized bandages.

From up close you could finally make out his facial features in detail. His jawline was as you remembered, but his hair was finger-combed back against his neck, almost brushing against his shoulders. His atmosphere had changed as well. Despite his grim injuries, a warm feeling surrounded him, almost like an aura of liveliness. You leaned into him, passing the bundle of old bandages around his body as you unwrapped. In such close proximity you just barely manage to make out faint traces of spicy cinnamon, crisp parchment, and freshly lit firewood.

You froze and pulled back sharply. You had completely forgotten yourself. He hadn’t noticed, had he? You glanced up briefly, only to be immediately met by chestnut eyes that bore into you with a thousand-yard stare, and lips ever so slightly muttering to himself as if he was lost in thought. 

“...Pretty.” Gale whispered, barely intelligible.

“What?”

Upon realizing you were staring right back at him, he quickly averted his eyes, finally breaking out of his stupor. “Sorry?” He cleared his throat, struggling to meet your gaze.

“Pretty?” You repeated, confused.

Gale sputtered, seemingly caught off guard before a look of mortified realization crossed his features. “Morning,” he declared abruptly. “Y-You are morning.” He paused. “I mean, it is morning.” He paused again. “I mean, It is a pretty morning,” he finally managed, eyes settling back on yours as a pale flush of pink crept up his neck, threatening to wrap around his cheeks.

You attempted to raise the back of your palm to feel his forehead, concerned, only to be intercepted by Gale as he caught your wrist and brought it back down to your lap.

“I assure you, I am perfectly well,” he took a deep breath, composing himself. “And usually better at this.” He added, pressing a customary kiss to the back of your hand. “All this and you don’t even know my name.”

“Well, actually–” you began.

“Gale Dekarios,” he vaunted, chest almost puffed, and you swear you’ve seen images of birds of paradise performing similar moves during a mating dance. Knowing he was a Viscount made the visual match far too well and you failed to stifle a chortle.

“Pleased to make your–” Gale faltered slightly at your reaction. “Did I do something?”

Struggling to pull yourself together, you shake your head breathlessly. “No, it’s nothing. It’s just, I know who you are already.” 

He looked puzzled. “You do?”

Nodding, you let out a deep breath, overcoming your brief laughing fit. “My older sister is quite the socialite. She recognized you from your portrait.”

From his impressed expression, you caught yourself wondering if they would be a good match. Euphemia was always fond of the idea of marrying a Viscount, like your mother had, not to mention she was up to date on all the drama of the ton.

An unfamiliar sensation twisted in your gut, unnoticeable until you focused on it. You hadn’t had breakfast yet so it was likely just hunger. But strangely, this hunger was creeping up from your stomach, almost residing in your chest with a faint pang.

You stood up sharply, pushing down the strange feelings. “You must be hungry, my Lord.”

Gale’s eyes flicked around your face, almost as if he was studying you. “I could eat,” he finally spoke. “And please, just Gale.”

Nodding quickly, you turned on your heel and briskly left your room, closing the door behind you. The twinge in your chest finally simmered, leaving your cheeks slightly flushed and blood nearly warm. You let yourself fall against your door, breathing deeply.

Suitors had come and gone before, and once he healed, Gale Dekarios would be nothing more than a man you met for a day.

[pervcoded]

bark and bite starring sukuna ryomen

content warning: there's a weird tension in this whole fic. some violence. cursing. threats and intimidation. sfw (minors still go away). reader refers to their chest as 'tits'.

“So I wanted it right here,” You drawl, pointing to an unmarked expanse of your skin, and Sukuna takes a moment to observe what other flesh remains untouched. You are so thoroughly marked with ink, he muses, it must also run through your veins.  He knows a bad egg when he sees one - a snake slipping down your spine, the teardrop on your cheek. Eyes like you might hurt someone. Mouth that gets you into trouble.

You stare back at him. His ear twitches ever so slightly. “You hear me, stud?”  You’re talking too much already. Your fingers run over your ribs again, and you glare pointedly in his direction.

He’s gonna get to that attitude in just a bit.

“I want it black and white. Halftone. Here’s the picture.” He doesn’t look at it long.

“Yeah,” Sukuna licks his lips, a fanged tooth poking out when he doesn’t quite smile. “I got you, pup.” 

Your fellow humans should have warned you about him. He had fostered a particular reputation in his time in the scene - beyond the rough demeanor and sweet ink. 

He’s never been too careful with humans. But who’s fault is that, hm? Your kind really ought to know better.

Your skin is too soft for his machine. You’ll struggle too much when he has to hold you in place, whimper when the needle punches your skin. You will grab onto his arm. You will cry. You will beg, and it will hurt anyway; because Sukuna does not put down the needle until he is finished. Here, you are subject to the whims of this domain.

But you act like you know. Roll your shoulders and say ‘c’mon’, like you understand what you’re getting yourself into.  You are insistent, confident even, laughed at the ‘humans, beware’ poster that hung at the back of his studio. So he laughed with you - or maybe at you - harsh and scathing and putting a pin in your misplaced joy.

Sukuna is no lap dog. His tall cropped ears stab in the direction of the ceiling, tail still and stiff at your approach. Though, now that you’ve seen him up close, you don’t think it’s there at all. His attire is off-puttingly casual, the graphic print on his chest stretched so wide across a glorious chest, that the color is starting to fade a little. You tried to keep your eyes focused on his. Ignored the claws, ignored the teeth, ignored the heat under your collar. 

The dog flicked his head to the side, gaze never leaving yours. 

“Get on the table.” 

It felt more like a threat than an invitation. You eased yourself onto the cot, Sukuna disappearing into your periphery a moment as you begin to pull your shirt up to your neck. You don’t take it off fully, and it makes his eyes narrow. As you situate yourself properly, you find his eyes drifting up your body, back to your neck. The shirt. He waits, needle in hand, staring down expectantly.

You zoned out a bit. This guy’s beside manner was just as mediocre as the wolf with the black fur that recommended him to you. Last time you take advice from a dog.

“What’s your problem, stud?” Your lip is obnoxious. You’d look much better on your knees, presenting your tongue. “Getting an eyeful of tits ain’t good enough for you is it? Fuckin’ mutt.”

You chuff, pulling your top over your head, baring your neck.  “Go on.” You goad, “You wanna take a fucking bite?” You’re scared; the scent pours off of you in waves, and Sukuna feels the barest inkling of amusement. The rush to his face and sparkling in his nerves as the flesh is so carelessly exposed. Licks his teeth.

 “Do it, you fucking do-” He doesn’t give you the chance to finish before a hands’ clamping down on the tender flesh, your words meeting their fated end at the back of your throat. You don’t have fangs, but you bare them, anyway.

“I just might, pup.” He speeks coolly, detached from your outburst. “Definetly will if you don’t shut the fuck up. And keep still.” He seems to contemplate his ink machine while you try not to struggle, gone still on the table, but you still smell nervous. Tickles his nose juuuust right.

Gets an idea. It’s a bad one, but fitting for an uppity fuck like you he thinks. Need a big strong hand to guide you? So be it. But Sukuna will make sure everyone knows who you belong to.

He thinks a different tattoo is in order. On your lower back - emblazoned in black ink: SUKUNA’S BITCH.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ JJK/BANNER ART by gege akutami everything written by me @ciematis, is owned by me, and you are not allowed to repost or translate my works. don't put my shit into ai generators, don't steal my shit and put it on wattpad. thank you.

[dragondemoness]

Can i request Junko, Mahiru and Maki with a S/O who is getting harassed by a guy and they go to beat the hell out of the person who is harassing Y/N? i hope this isnt breaking any rules

.It's not, don't worry. As long as it's not the characters doing it, and are just comforting the reader, then I'm fine with it. I just won't write the explicit details

Warnings: Mild violence, implications of almost s*xual assa*lt, female reader implied (sort of) but no pronouns specified

Junko, Mahiru and Maki Protecting their S/O from Assault

Junko Enoshima

“Get the fuck away from them, you piece of shit asshole!”

She arrived on the scene before he put his hands on you, thankfully

But it still ended with her foot on his throat and you having to pull her off

She gave him a final glare before taking your hand and leaving the scene

He’s never gonna bother you again, especially with her influence

Once you’re out of his sight, she immediately makes sure you’re okay and that he didn’t touch you

Then she presses kisses all over your face while holding you close (if you’re comfortable with it)

She’s gonna tell her sister about it and have her deal with the motherfucker later

But for now, her main focus is on you

She’s gonna hold you close for the rest of the night, stroking your hair and giving you soft kisses

Plus, she’ll give you thousands of affirmations, to help dissuade any negative thoughts that nasty prick planted in your head

She’s gonna keep a close eye on you next time you’re out together

And on any sleazy weirdos who flirt with you

She’s never letting that happen again

Mahiru Koizumi

“Get away from them, you creep! Never let me see you near them again!”

As sharp-tongued as she is around guys, she isn’t one to get violent most of the time

Except this time

Nobody touches her baby and gets away with it

She’s gonna land a good few punches, and send one final kick to his nuts

The second he’s out of your sight, she starts fretting over you

“Are you okay?? Are you hurt? Did he touch you? Oh, I should have been here sooner I’m so sorry-”

You’ll have to kiss her to make her calm down

It’s not gonna quell her worrying, but she’s so incredibly grateful you’re okay

She’s not taking her eye off you for the rest of the night

She’ll tend to your every need, and hold you to make you feel safe

You can feel how stiff she is while she’s holding you

Give her another kiss, and she’ll give you a small smile

Her protectiveness over you increases by like, a 100 after that

No more going out without her

Anyone who even looks at you weird is getting an earful from her

It can be overbearing, but her heart’s in the right place

Maki Harukawa

No words

Just pure, smoldering rage

She doesn’t even utter her famous line as she takes out the knife she keeps in her boot

Although her actions are telling enough

She’s gonna give him a good beatdown before leaving a small battle scar

She wants to go further, but not in front of you

“Stay away from them, or you will die. I’m not afraid to take out disgusting creeps who bring harm to my partner.”

Once he runs (or rather, limps) away, she takes your hand and brings you to her dorm

She doesn’t say a word on the way back

Once she closes the door, she takes you in her arms; a tight, strong hold

You can feel her shaking a little bit while she holds you

You head straight to the bed, and lay down in comforting silence

She runs her fingers through your hair as you rest on her chest

She doesn’t have much to say, so she expresses it through her touch

She hopes it’s enough to let you know that you’re safe, and that she’s always gonna protect you

She whispers it to you as you fall asleep

After that, you’re gonna have a protective assassin girlfriend on your arm while you’re out

She’s sending death glares to anyone who seems sketchy in any way

Things could have been far worse if she hadn’t been there, and she’s never letting anything like that happen again

Anyone who tries is gonna talk to the knife

One time was enough, but she’s not giving second chances anymore

[nothinghere368]

SPOILERS!

Alright I finished ofmd 2 last night. After four or five hours of sleep I still feel like a mess and cannot think straight. And here's my first reaction to the last episode.

Okay so they created one of the most attractive amazing character in season 2 (yes I mean Izzy Hands) and we can see his pain, his softness, his humanity and his struggle, but we also know he's trying to change. He's not really move on okay, drinking in the morning and lying to himself (shark did this) but clearly he's getting better, at least he knew the meaning of love and who he loves (the crew). Everything seems to be back normal and in a good way!

And then they decide to kill this character. Why the fuck are you doing this??? For the record, I can accept main character's death. I just don't understand this, all of this. I really don't think he died like a hero, more like die for nothing. Yes, he is a representative of the old way, a part of blackbeard and yes he pushed ed too hard in s1, but is that mean he has to die at this moment? Cause if I'm right, they literally spent four episodes showing us this poor suicidal man can change, can be loved and be in a super healthy relationship with EVERYONE. He finally realized he had a weird and toxic relationship with the one who never appreciated him and started to pursue his own happiness and even enjoying his little moment. So tell me, why he wants to die? what's the point to kill him like that?

One more thing, we knew Izzy is the best first mate and swordsman. You really believe he would leave a loaded gun for a hostage? And why he is the one to escort the prince? It's almost like shouting to everyone "hey look! wooden leg! I'm a pirate!" And now comes to the most heartbroken scene, that apology. Dude, you are basically a single mom who survived the domestic violence and tried your best to protect your kids from the demon, oh and you lost a leg for that and you chose to apologize to your ex husband before you die?!?! Why?! I loved Edward this character. I really did, but sorry you had no right to say the word "family". You don't treat your family like dogs or ask your ONLY family to shoot you dead even though you knew exactly he had love for you and can never do this, or maim your ONLY family.

I just feel sorry for the character, maybe a little bit furious about the script? He's not a tool or a dog, he's a real person that deserved so much more.

[cheeriecherrymain]

Behind the scene lore, behind the scene lore!!!

I wanna know more about Viktor's life as he grew up with his penpal friend

omg yes yes! so im thinking this up right as i write it but that's okay because i enjoy the tasty prompt!

So there was a tiny bit of his backstory in chapter 9, but not a lot, so i'll try and expand a little bit on that. He lost his mom first, and then his dad just kind of Disappeared, but i honestly can't decide what Exactly happened to him. Like if he just left and never came home because he got into some kind of trouble, or if he'd been planning on leaving Viktor purposefully.

it's a personal headcanon that Viktor looks like his mom, so maybe his dad saw too much of his deceased wife in his face, and couldn't look at him anymore.

I wanna say that Vik found the pen a couple weeks before his dad took off, though. And because the Reader hadn't gotten a hold of the rest of the set yet, it functioned as a normal pen would. He probably used it to learn what he could about machinery, sketching out his designs and concepts on scraps of paper he was able to find.

It's probably only a week or so after being abandoned that the two of them start talking. HC that the Reader is a little bit older than Viktor, either by weeks or months. But at that age, he probably only Kind Of understands how bad things are - like his situation is dire, but until they left him, I wanna say that his parents did a decently okay job at protecting him.

Like yeah, he grew up in desolate poverty, and he was probably surrounded by hardened hearts and violence, but he wasn't directly involved with it. In a sense, they allowed him to have a soft heart that cares about people and the world and animals. He's not blind to what's going on by any means, but I want to say he can still see the good in people to some degree. He's not as jaded.

Really, the pen turns out to be a blessing to him. He could have learned all the stuff that the Reader was helping him with on his own, but it would have taken him a lot longer. He's kind of on his own after his parents are gone, aside from his long distance friend, who helps him learn things quick enough to survive.

In my mind, he gets a job at a weird little repair shop. Once he shows that he has at least some skills and concepts, his employer decides to take a chance on him, and Vik enlists the Reader for help. He figures things out pretty quickly on his own, but he still likes sharing what he does with another person - he's never really had friends his own age, so he gets attached very quickly.

He's definitely worried that they'll leave him, especially in the first couple of months, but as the years pass, he grows more secure about their friendship and trusts that his penpal genuinely cares about him.

His employer probably lets Viktor sleep in the room above the shop in exchange for reduced wages, which is honestly a steal, since he'd kind of just been out on the streets after being abandoned. It's not a big place, literally just a single room with a door and a bed, but it's better than what he had before. He builds a little desk for himself, so he can write and sketch more comfortably. He makes a couple of shelves, over time, and fills them with bits and bobs he's collected.

He and the Reader probably have brainstorming sessions on a regular basis, writing down concepts and nitpicking the details of how something might or might not be possible. Viktor isn't able to get his hands on a lot of the parts necessary to build most of them, but the Reader is. Which is why he recognizes them in their workshop, when they're older and secretly paired together in class.

And the Reader is just so earnestly kind to him, encouraging his interests and hyping him up. He's never really had someone who openly sticks up for him like that, so like I said, he gets attached quickly. I even want to think that he falls in love with the Reader before they fall in love with him. Kind of a puppy love at first, willing to follow them anywhere because they're nice to him, but after getting to know them in person (after figuring out their identity) it morphs into a more serious kind of love: wanting the best for them and wanting them to feel safe and secure, loved, and listened to.

Doesn't stop him from blushing like a schoolboy the first time they kiss him. Viktor.exe has stopped working. We couldn't see it the first time they kissed, because it was dark, and they haven't kissed since - but he's gonna turn into a complete tomato once they start openly being affectionate with each other.

It will take him a little bit to get used to the physical acts of love, but not as long as you'd think. Another personal headcanon is that he's not put off by touching, provided he knows the other person well enough. He's just...awkward about initiating anything. He wants the hug, but he doesn't know how to ask for it, so he'll just stare at his partner looking sad until they somehow gain the ability to read his thoughts.

Bc really, both the Reader and Viktor are still kind of babey in this fic. They're only nineteen. which when you get to be my age, is basically a tall child XD They still have more growing up to do, and i'm honestly contemplating continuing this fic for a while. Working up to their relationship, but then also showing the next couple years of their life. I will need to come up with ideas oof

[thelaithlyworm]

DMBJ Rare Pair Exchange Reveals (2)

(“Slice of Life”, “A Bucket of Water, Well Chilled”, “Tongues”)

I was interested in the mare’s nest implied by the Hei Xiazi and Wu Xie’s training relationship when I was making prompts, and so were some other people, and a lot of folk did fic or art on that. Nice!

When I was considering writing Treats I had a few ideas for those two, most of which got sorted into Slice of Life and Bucket. Then, while writing the middle scene of Bucket, it ducked its head bashfully, touched its forefingers together and asked, “But what if… sexy?” and the resulting bunny wouldn’t leave me alone until I finished writing Tongues.

(I want it known that, however dark things might get in these fics, I could totally have made them worse and I chose not to. I saw the path of Sin and I turned away. I turned away!)

Note: All of these fics take place a little before Sand Sea, and deal extensively with spoiler information therein.

“Slice of Life”

Something about Hei Xiazi is that, for all his pragmatism, he’s a compassionate guy. Which gives him an interesting perspective on Wu Xie’s extremely self-destructive arc. If Hei Xiazi trains him, he’s helping him get further into dangerous situations. If he doesn’t, the kid’ll probably dive in bitter waters anyway, with less ability to swim.

And. So. There are a few hints that Grandad Wu was a lot deeper into the snake thing and the conspiracy thing and the everything thing than he let on, and I wanted to explore that. What better perspective than a tired immortal who’s in deeper than he wants to be? And after all, didn’t Hei Xiazi bring Wu Xie the message-snake that got him started on the venom thing? If he just… hadn’t quite done his job, if, in that long trek through the desert, the snake just… died, things would have been a lot different for Wu Xie. I wonder if Hei Xiazi ever thinks about that.)

Anyway, it’s called Slice of Life, and there are fairly mundane scenes of gathering and eating snails (as a snack) because, well, life just happens around the weird shit. And it made a nice soft ground for when the violence erupted.

I did not mean for Slice of Life to be so symmetrical, it just sort of happened, and when I realised that I helped it along a little bit. I’m still fond of two lines from the start and end:

“You still think,” Hei Xiazi said levelly, “that I won’t really hurt you.”

“What I know,” [Wu Xie] breathed, intimate as a lover, “is you won’t ever stop me.”

Mirrored statements, metrically identical. I’m very proud!

I think I might have gotten the headcanon from ilgaksu, but I kind of think Hei Xiazi was studying medicine in Berlin at the height of the Weimar Republic, and that somehow morphed into the dream he has in the centre scene - Weimar Republic music in a fancy-house in Old Changsha. (And “Die solistiche Orchester” was both quite hard to track down an audio recording of, and an insane ear-worm once I had. I put it in the podfic I did of this fic: you’re welcome.) Blue-and-White Porcelain was mentioned very briefly in one of the main-arc novels and the name hella stuck with me. (One day I’m going to write a fic consisting of Blue-and-White Porcelain, Phoenix from the New Years Fantasy Extra, and oh, maybe Mo Ce from the M9 drama for good leavening. It may make the tag wranglers twitch.)

I really enjoyed putting in mundane details, like the colour of the bucket of snails, or the old-fashioned wooden crutch - they really help bring a scene to life, for me, anyway.

“A Bucket of Water, Well Chilled”

I’m not sure how much I have to say about this one, really. It’s loosely based on one of the side-stories, wherein Hei Xiazi dares Wu Xie to throw ice water on Xiaoge, soon after he comes down from Mt Changbai, with similar results to the fic.

It was certainly interesting to show a progression of their relationship. From, “I can’t fix your problem I can only curb the most maladaptive part of it” through “everything is awful and nothing is okay” to… “everybody is with their sweetie(s) and there’s room to make a joke”. I’m not sure Hei Xiazi really needed to lick the water-pistol in the first sc-  Wait, he just tapped me on the shoulder and handed me a note: he totally did need to lick the water-pistol and if I were more aware of tropes and thematic expression this would be obvious to me. Okay, okay, I’m not going to argue.

Oh! So why does Wu Xie quote part of the Heart Sutra in the middle? The “no eyes, no ears, no mind” part? Another of the sides describes Xiaoge’s perception of behind the Gate as very dark and very quiet. It seemed close enough to that particular sutra that Wu Xie might jump to it if he let his mind wander.

… I’ve got a theory that all the snake mines Wu Xie devoured contained, as well as some ancient ancient history, a collection of sutras and religious-and-philosophical texts that people tending the mine, say, a monastery up in Motuo, might want remembered as well as simply writing things down. There’s a line in one of the post-Reboot novels that he knows a *lot* of sutras and I suppose he might have memorised them the old-fashioned way but, y’know, when there’s a bizarre mechanism for transmitting information around, why not go hard?

My other theory, and I’m not sure it’s so much a theory as just saying things out loud, is that with all the extra information sitting in his brain, plus the emotional bleed the novels say happens with snake pheromones, Wu Xie is essentially playing with the kind of three-or-four-deck card stack that casinos use - difficult to predict by outsiders because there’s so much extra information, but also so many cards that it’s unwieldy for the owner. And that he keeps himself functioning on the day to day by just… taking a smaller handful to use and trying to forget the rest of the pile exists until he needs it. (Wu Xie’s emotional affect can be, ah, fluid.)

“Tongues”

And this is where we take the snake venom mind-wandering up to 11.

(Incidentally, about a month after writing these, the Travelling Notes arc popped up some chapters that involved a lot of snail-cookery, and Wu Xie saying something that Pangzi tells him sounds *weird* which Wu Xie just brushes off with an off-hand explanation and… was probably not, from context, the mundane bilingual slip-up that he thinks it is - it was close enough to what I’d written that I was a little shook.)

I loved the mad swings in this - coupons to pinning someone against the wall, to sweaty sex, to giggling at the prospect that the landlady might hear, to tender, bittersweet cuddling - I always do enjoy a fic that binds extremes. 

For what it’s worth, I borrowed the little room papered with newspaper and a board bed running down one wall from the Lost Tomb 1 drama. (It had some really vivid mundane scenery, that show.) Hei Xiazi wearing a sarong in Reboot was, it was memorable okay? He looked good. So I extrapolated a little for the fic.

And… so I was reading a meta about the descriptive language used in sex scenes, and it got me thinking about this one, which is a whole lot more E-rated than I usually do, and the choices I’d made in how things got described. And partly that’s because I’m just not a ‘weeping cock-slit’ kind of a girl, and partly… I was really tight in Hei Xiazi’s POV and it turns out he - the version that exists in my head - just wasn’t interested in that kind of detail. He was interested in the mechanics, and what needed to be done (and coupons) and how his partner was reacting, but he’s lived a long time and some things just don’t need a lot of describing in his internal narrative. Anatomy is an open book to him; orgasms are nice but easy; you don’t get to kiss someone’s fluttering eyelid every day!

... Perhaps that has something to do with his Romance vs ‘Real’ distinction. Hmm.

This also got podded, with the theme music “Adam a Eva”, similar era to “Das solistiche Orchester”, and if I knew how the lyrics went I would tell you.

[themovieblogonline]

Boy Kills World: A Mind-Bending, Ultra-Violent Trip (Review)

Looking for a movie that will blow your mind with its action sequences, then confuse you with its story, and leave you with a "wait, what?" feeling by the end? Look no further than this Boy Kills World review. This action-packed flick starring Bill Skarsgård is equal parts Deadpool, Kill Bill, and fever dream. The movie throws you right into the deep end. We're introduced to "The Culling," an annual purge where people are randomly chosen to be…well, culled. It's a messed-up system, but hey, that's the world we're dealing with. Enter Boy (Skarsgård), a mute and deaf young man raised by a mysterious Shaman (Yayan Ruhian) who looks suspiciously familiar (think "The Raid"). Shaman's training methods are…unconventional, to say the least.  The movie doesn't waste time explaining why Shaman is training Boy, it just throws you into this bizarre student-teacher dynamic with heavy Star Wars vibes. We see Boy dodging everything from shuriken to cheese graters (seriously, that kitchen fight scene will scar you for life). A Cast of Colorful Characters (and Some WTF Moments) Sharlto Copley steals the show (seriously, is that even him?) as a villain who channels both Christian Bale and Michael Scott from "The Office." Then there's the mysterious Kill Bill-esque biker chick with a soft spot for kids (Famke Janssen) and Boy's ever-present hallucination of his dead sister. Yeah, this movie doesn't shy away from the weird. The fight choreography is fantastic, with a healthy dose of gore that would make Sam Raimi proud. There's a constant sense of danger, and Boy's journey to get revenge is brutal and bloody. However, the movie isn't perfect. The pacing drags a bit in the second act, and the constant inner monologue from Boy's inner voice (voiced by H. Jon Benjamin) gets tiresome. There are also some plot holes you could drive a truck through, like the strange decision to make one character completely unintelligible. A Twist You Won't See Coming (and a Shocking Origin Story) Just when you think you've got the movie figured out, it throws a massive twist your way. Let's just say there's a whole lot of family drama going on, and Shaman might not be the good guy you thought he was. This revelation, coupled with a mind-blowing hallway fight scene (seriously, this movie is a contender for the best hallway scene of 2024!), makes the ending totally worth it. "Boy Kills World" is a wild ride from start to finish. It's a movie you watch for the insane action sequences, the WTF moments, and the sheer audacity of it all. Just don't go in expecting a deep and meaningful story. This is pure, unadulterated entertainment, perfect for fans of comic book movies and anyone who wants to see Bill Skarsgård go full-on action hero (with a dash of mute rage). The Origins of Boy Kills World "Boy Kills World" is the directorial debut of Moritz Mohr. The film was first announced in 2019, with Skarsgård signing on shortly after. The script, based on an unpublished graphic novel, was praised for its dark humor and over-the-top violence. Filming took place in South Africa in 2022, and the movie was finally released in April 2024. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZV_MWPL-jq8 Read the full article

[totheidiot]

OKAY SO. death note. death note. death note. where to begin. well. like most animes, it started off as a manga (which i read only the first two chapters of) and then it got an anime adaptation. became insanely popular like it's one of the Big Names and for good reason too BECAUSE. it's so. GOOD. it will change your life.

so the plot of death note is basically. this really smart 17 year teenager guy with a very strong sense of justice gets this magic notebook dropped to him. anyone whose name you write in the notebook will die, you just need to know their name and face. well he uses that notebook he writes the names of criminals because like i said, he has a strong sense of justice and he thinks the world is rotten and that it needs fixing and with that notebook he is killing the "evil people." he wants to create a world that is free of injustice and only as people who he thinks is good and honest and he is going to be the god of this new world. and he is going to achieve that by writing the names of people he thinks are evil and unjust.

after that, it's just his attempts to create this world of his, trying to eliminate anyone who stands in his way. it's got the obvious themes of justice and morality and human nature, whether the ends justify the means and all of that stuff. there is no clear line of good and evil and morals are subjective and power is corrupting and people will inevitably die, most obviously.

the anime adaptation has 37 episodes while the manga has 108 chapters. even though there's only one season, i would say that it's kind of split into two. 1-25 is the first one where light is 17-18 and then 26-37 episode light is 23 years old after a five year timeskip and he has different opponents to worry about. so many people say that the second part is lacking and uninteresting but that is really for you to decide because i Loved both parts so much (granted, a huge part of why i like the second part so much is because. mikami. i am in love with mikami. and he is only in the last like five episodes of the anime)

NOW. bad parts. treatment towards female characters. that is the big one. truly is a product of its time, that shit did not pass the bechdel test. the women are poorly written, like they have such interesting foundations. misa for example. oh my God misa. misa is a special type of character to me, she is me. i am misa. she represents such a big part of me, her unconditional and almost toxic love and how it stems from her grief and her loss. she is me. but God the anime will reduce her down to this vapid and giggling girl whose only thing is that she is obsessed with light. HOW DOES IT EVEN DO THAT HUH it has the fact established that misa is ruthless and merciless and quite frankly, very intelligent. she is such a tragic character who has been through so much AND YOU WOULD THINK THAT IT WOULD PLAY AM IMPACT ON HER BEHAVIOR AND THE WAY SHE WCTS. but no. it's never explored again.

death note just does that a lot, not only with female characters but for any character. it will introduce a really cool facet about a character and then. never choose to explore it or elaborate it ever again. it's so annoying sometimes ugh.

but yes big flaw is treatment of female characters. YOU DO NOT WANT TO BE A FEMALE CHARACTER IN THE DEATH NOTE UNIVERSE. you will be used by light yagami and your whole arc will be about him and your character will not be explored at all. istg i am not even joking, i am pretty sure every female character's arc in dn has been about a man except for rem (love her to bits). so yeah. the curse of being a woman in 2000s media.

trigger warnings. obvious ones sre violence murder snd death. lots of blood. there is a weird scene where misa is like bound with a lot of straps which. was uncomfortable. there is suicide in it, one is pretty implied and the other is like. lots of blood and all of that. it's not sexually explicit except for like street harassment and light reads this soft porn magazine to be seen as less suspicious, the woman in the magazine just have underwear on

also. it's like not as gay as people make it out to be but at the same time, it's so so so gay. so gay. so gay you will not believe it. there is actually canon lesbianism where this monster lady is in love with misa (the manga has this stupid comphet thing where it's like "oh, it's not actually like THAT. they are both female it's not like actual love-" like stfu. rem is gay for misa.). also. light and L. fucking beyond gay, i have friends who know about the homosexuality of lawlight but have never watched death note. they are canonically handcuffed together at point. the feet washing scene. you have fucking. mikami. who is obsessed with light and is paralleled to misa so many times, misa being light's actual love interest.

funny to me is that the writer of death note is kind of actually homophobic. and he is like super mad about death note yaoi. which is like. bro . you have this misogynistic piece of work. a brief scene where two male characters does so much as glance at each other will have more depth and emotional charge than a female character and her arc. IF YOU WANT PEOPLE TO NOT SHIP ANIME'S MOST COMPELLING DYNAMIC, THEN MAYBE. DON'T HATE WOMEN. AND WRITE ACTUALLY GOOD STRAIGHT ROMANCE SUBPLOTS.

okay rant over. watch death note, it's really peak fiction. got many of the most compelling characters ever written. it's free on youtube for free (just the sub) and it's on netflix, amazon prime, tubi, hulu all of that. just start from episode 1 and if you have any questions, let me know !!! and if you decide to watch it, PLEASE LIVE BLOG REACTIONS

you have got me mildly interested in death note what do i do now . ar i a n

. ELABORATE. WHAT DO YOU MEAN. HOW DID I GET YOU INTERESTED IN DEATH NOTE . WHAT PARTS ARE YOU INTERESTED IN . TELL ME .

[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[spicy-melon]

Fever Dream(s)

PLEASE read the warnings my goodness

warnings: sick Reader, medication, mentions of blood, guns and knives, animal/nature violence, implied car accident, implied cannibalism, righteous anger/vigilantism from reader, general weird dream uneasiness/fucked up dream nonsense

words: 1.5k+

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Going to sleep with a 102.7 degree temperature, all the while your teeth chatter and your blanket swallows you whole. What could possibly go wrong? Still, you downed the medicine. Hopefully now you’ll at least be able to take a nap after the shitty sleep you’ve been getting because of this damn fever.

Murdock had tried to help, offering you extra blankets and soup. Some part of you was too proud to accept the food. And… some part of you didn’t trust him.

He was there, that night. It was real. That was him, holding that knife. You saw him with your own eyes, taking that knife and plunging it into the poor man’s —

Murdock was the last thought on your mind before you were forced into your sleep, the medication taking over your consciousness.

Your dreams had never been very wild, usually some random leaking of your subconscious or stresses, maybe the occasional “huh, that was weird”. But never this.

The first oddity: you knew you were in a dream. 

So, when you opened your eyes to a quiet forest with trees surrounding you on all sides, you knew you weren’t awake. Still, it was as beautiful as it was convincing: the smell of pine rushed into your nose, the soft ground topped with crunching leaves beneath your feet, the light cawing of birds in the branches above.

You wandered a bit, taking in your dream’s backdrop, when you heard a loud twig snapping behind you, abrupt and echoing. The telltale sign of a guest in your midst, and a large one at that from what it sounded like.

A wolf, the biggest you think you have ever seen, appears in your view as you turn around to investigate the noise. It halts in its steps as it saw you, glowing red eyes flickering in your direction. It may be a dream, but the primal increase in your heart rate and breathing you feel is very, very real. Something deep in you screamed to run, but your legs feel glued to the damp forest floor.

The wolf is staring at you, its crimson eyes so ravenous it looked like it hadn’t eaten in weeks. Focusing enough to look at it properly, you noticed it had something hanging from its mouth. It was lifeless and bloody, but you could just make out the form of a baby deer.

The scene melts away, and it couldn’t have changed to a more different environment. You’re sitting at a table, outside some quaint café in the middle of a city. One that looked vaguely familiar. Across from you sat a shadowy figure, its features concealed, even in the bright sunlight.

“A gift,” the figure spoke. Its voice was distorted and inhuman. It sounded like it was talking through a wall and underwater all at the same time.

A black, sleek box appears at your end of the table, with its latch oriented towards you. Curious, you reach and unlock it, revealing a pair of black leather gloves.

“They’re crafted after my own. Tailored to your size, of course.”

You looked at the gift, then back up at the figure in confusion, “…I don’t — ” Understand? Want them? You didn’t know what you were going to finish your thought with as a rumbling laugh from across the table interrupted. 

“You will.”  

Without thinking, almost like your arms suddenly had a mind of their own, you take the gloves out of the box and slip them on— It’s a perfect fit.

Something in your rushes, a mixture of dread and adrenaline. It felt strange, but… A small involuntary smile grazes your features and the figure hums, barely loud enough to hear.

“Good. Now let’s get going. We’ve got a lot of work to do, you and I.”

Reality starts to fade around you once more. This time it takes a second or two for the scene to come into focus.

It’s dreary and overcast, a wash of gray coating everything in your sight. You’re in a cemetery, and you can feel the already existent tears on your cheeks as they fall. In front of you is a blood-stained tombstone, the crimson covering the details of whose grave it marks. You’re suddenly made aware of a few flowers in your hand: a red carnation, a calla lilly, and a white rose.

It’s a modest bouquet, but you still feel the need to place it at the grave. After setting the flowers down, you notice something shining through the fresh dirt. You crouch down for a closer inspection and realize that it’s a knife sticking out of the dirt with its handle up. 

At the sight of it, something in you turns from the calm melancholy you had been feeling to unknown but powerful rage. After staring at the instrument lodged in the earth for a long moment, you grab it with a determination you didn’t know you had. 

You walk off with the knife held in your hand, white knuckles surrounding its well used handle. Not knowing where exactly you’re going, but wherever it is, you feel a purpose calling you. You only stop when the scene around you suddenly starts to dim, reality around you closing out like the end of a tv show episode.

As the next episode loads, you find yourself in a… grocery store? Yeah, that’s what it looks like. Your hands are guiding a cart full of food, and you look down at your list, all but one item crossed off. So, you head over to the meat section of the store, not really knowing what else to do. You peek in to the cooler to start browsing for what you’re looking for.

You drop the pad of paper and pen you had in your hands in shock as you involuntarily step backwards. Every single package is labeled “Human”. You must have shown the shock you were feeling, because a worker came up to you and asked if you were ok.

“I- No? I’m not? Is this some sort of joke? ‘Human’?” You emphasize the last word by pointing to the meat. You’re still aware you’re dreaming, but what kind of fucked up—

“I know right? We got an awesome deal from our supplier! Something about low-life criminals and sleezy politicians being more common than ever, so we got a discount.” the worker happily chuckles out.

Something about their words and tone of voice flicks in you like a light switch. Of course. What else are they going to do with awful people like that? They deserve it. And it’s not like you killed them yourself.

Happy and content with a few meat packages in your cart, you go to check out and prepare for the dinner you’re going to make tonight when your husband gets home.

Wait… husband? What—

Your thoughts are interrupted by what feels like violent whiplash.

When your dream clicks back into place, you’re in some kind of abandoned-looking warehouse, seemingly empty save the scrap wood and metal strewn about. A group of unidentifiable men enter casually laughing, clad in suits and armed with guns. This dream seems to want to give an outside perspective on this particular part for some reason, you feel as though you’re not really standing with the men there, but rather watching the events that occur in front of you like through the lens of a movie.

The group walks toward the darker end of the warehouse, and your vision curiously follows suit. It’s then that you notice there’s a pedestal on the concrete floor, about hip height, with a large object draped in fabric on top. One of the men walks over to it, and removes the cloth with a flourish not unlike a magician revealing his final act.

It’s a birdcage, complete with an animal perched inside it. You can’t quite tell what kind of bird it is, just that it’s large from its frantic movement of the shape in the cage.

“Finally caught it. It just had to slip up once and we were there to take advantage,” the man drops the fabric to the ground, freeing up his hand to aim his gun.

“Ready to finally end this animal?,” the man gestures towards the bird in the cage with his gun, the last word growled out like calling it an animal was insulting to the bird.

Your dream decides to black out, leaving you visually impaired to the situation taking place, but you can still hear. After one last flutter of feathers, gunshot after gunshot rings out, and you shut your eyes instinctively.

Blinking them back open, your eyes immediately squint at the sunlight suddenly surrounding you. As your eyes adjust, you can see that you’re standing in the middle of an intersection of multiple dirt roads. 

Confused, you gaze around, seeing nothing discernible for what feels like miles in each direction. The squeal of tires reach your ears impossibly late, a car racing up behind you, no sign of stopping as it—

You startle awake with a gasp. The taste of blood on your tongue, and you figure you just bit your lip in your sleep, but it still fills you with even more unease. Fever dreams, huh.

[harlot-inc]

Ill Intent

A/N ; My first big fic in a while! Not entirely thought-out, just a neat and self-indulgent idea I had. Soft for these two cultists :’) Komodo and Dragon belong to @.gatobob! 

Takes place before the events of TPOF, includes ocs as side characters. Warnings for abduction, drugging, gore + violence, forced nudity (partial - top). 

Word count ; 2,493

Imagine being roommates with not one but both Komodo and Dragon - or Mike and Jace, rather. They’re a little weird but you’re more concerned with getting someone who can pay their portion of the rent and these two seem reliable enough, right? You could only hope that your initial impressions of them would hold up. Soon enough you’re all moved in and that’s when the real introductions start. 

The pair tend to keep to themselves a lot, not really exiting their rooms unless they were leaving for the day or to grab something from the fridge. The first couple weeks might be a little tense but at least they clean up their messes and don’t cause too much of a ruckus in the flat. Though, you have to admit some of their behaviors are a little odd…

It would probably be Mike to warm up to you first, being the more extroverted of the two he’d be a tad more keen on bettering his, and subsequently Jace’s, standing with you. Even if they were a little cold at first, you may find that it’s almost nice to have them around. It makes things feel less lonely. 

After that point they both start to venture out from their respective rooms a little more often. Movie nights might become a semi-common occurrence with the most popular genre being horror. Whether it’s those cheesy slasher flicks or something a bit more gruesome, it’s something you all seem to enjoy. Even if the other two sometimes get a little too into the gory scenes. 

Imagine, though, if you end up stumbling upon something a bit more dark - maybe the odd website pops up in the pc’s search history, or maybe you find a strange scrap of paper that definitely wasn’t yours. While it is a little disconcerting you probably don’t pay much mind to it - maybe it was just another little niche they were following?

Oh how wrong you were. 

It’s difficult to notice, though sooner or later there’s a shift in the pair. Their attitudes toward you doesn’t really change, sure, though it’s closer to the end of autumn that they start to get a little more cozy with you. It isn’t until Jace has a rag pressed right up against your nose and mouth do you realize their true intentions. Your last memories before passing out were both of them standing over your crumpled body talking about some sort of sacrifice…

Imagine waking up miles away from that apartment that you rented out with them, instead being woken by the stifling heat of the desert you’d been abducted to. Instead of any real clothes you were dressed in a tank top and the underwear you’d been wearing when they knocked you out. How long has it been? Hours? Days? Was anyone even looking for you?

Looking across the small group of masked men (save for one - ‘Scorpion’, he’d demanded to be called.), you found that you recognized two of the people standing in the circle. Even with the masks there was no denying that the pair in the lizard-looking masks were Jace and Mike. The tattoo on the blond’s shoulder was a dead giveaway, not to mention you were fairly certain that you’d seen a piercing glint as the more lithe one adjusted his mask. 

You aren’t alone here, though. To your right are a few other people, all dressed similarly to you. The majority of the group appeared to be wary and frightened, save for the blonde, freckled woman near the end of the line, though you found yourself aligning more with her anger and vitriol than the uneasiness that plagued the rest of the soon-to-be victims. After another minute or so, the group just a few feet away turned to look at you all. Animals, you couldn’t help but think, stomach twisting into knots when you met the eyes of both Komodo and Dragon. Even with the intense sunlight shadowing their faces you swear that they had a ravenous glint in their eyes. 

“Alright!” Scorpion addressed you all with a toothy grin, the sadistic look on his face foreshadowing what exactly would be in store for you all. “Who’s ready to get things rolling?”

—-

Imagine having survived throughout the rest of the day - you’d been out there for hours, the exposed skin on your face and arms tender to the touch and burning. You were overheated and severely dehydrated, having had a close call with those who were hunting you down. You thought that the open desert would’ve been safe considering you’d be able to see anything coming for you, but that advantage didn’t matter much when someone was chasing you down with an ATV. Still, though, you managed to slip through his grasp. 

The sky was cast in a violet hue as the sun began to set, though the absence of the scorching ball did nothing to lessen the heat yet. With a shaky sigh you headed down into the ravine, staggering forward as you tripped over a rock but not completely face-planting. You may have been exhausted but you weren’t completely gone yet. Despite how jagged the rock face was you leaned against it, catching your breath while you waited for things to cool off. 

In the silence you heard a soft trickling sound. At first you’d thought that you were just hearing things, though in the dim lighting you did manage to spot a trickle of water. It didn’t take you much longer to make a beeline for the small stream of water, cupping what you could in your hands before gulping it all down. Running water was supposed to be safe, right? Even if you couldn’t be picky out here at least you could rest a little easier knowing that this drink probably wouldn’t be too harmful…

That was until you began to lose feeling in your legs. While you did try to brace yourself against the rocks yet again, it wasn’t too much longer until your arms gave way as well. With a thud and a cloud of sand and dust you landed on the desert floor, teeth clicking uncomfortably when your jaw met the ground. Your head was spinning - what happened? You couldn’t move no matter how hard you tried.

Panic really began to set in when the sun had completely disappeared below the horizon, leaving you quite literally in the dark about anything that may be going on around you. No shadows to go off of, hardly any visibility to speak of. Even if you’d landed on your back it probably wouldn’t have been much better. You could only hope that no one found you 

The sound of falling pebbles caught your attention, one of which bounced off your back before landing somewhere in the sand beside you. A little gasp could be heard from above, hurried footsteps soon following. Who was that? Another captive? Or… 

Your question was answered quickly when the now two pairs of footsteps came up behind you. How many of you were left? The first to go had the scrawny, red-eyed boy who’d been chosen for ‘first blood’. You were also fairly certain that you’d heard a distant yelling after you’d managed to escape that maniac on the four-wheeler, even if you didn’t particularly want to think about it. Though, if that poor soul had managed to survive or escape as well, just how likely was it that the other two found each other and banded together?

Those chances were painfully low, unluckily for you. 

“Well, look what we have here!” A familiar voice rang out from behind you, the footsteps coming closer and closer. A boot nudged your side and all you could do was gently rock with the movement and take it. One shadow came to hover over you and then another, the dark sockets of their masks just staring down at you. If you were able to see, though, you’d witness just how the corners of their eyes would curl upwards - grinning, they were. Feeding off of your misfortune and the subsequent despair over the situation. 

One of them knelt down beside you, seeming to look you over for a moment before an arm was hooked around your middle. It was Jace, you quickly realized once he hauled you over his shoulder. You tried to scream, really, but all that came out was a shrill wheeze. Whatever was in that water must’ve done more than prevent you from moving. You couldn’t struggle, couldn’t kick, couldn’t scream. All you could do was allow yourself to be carried, vision blurred by the tears falling from your eyes. 

Imagine being deposited on the stone and dirt slab, vulnerable before the two men that intended to kill you, to use you for whatever sick purpose they had in mind. There were hushed mumbling between the two as they prepared - the flick of a lighter as they lit the candles, the gleam of a gnarly-looking knife not unlike those ritual daggers you’d see depicted in movies or games. 

A hiss of irritation came from one of the two at your side, most likely Komodo considering his rigid posture as he looked around for something. 

“Can’t see a fuckin’ thing in-!” His angry rant had stopped in an instant when the knife - probably what he’d been looking for in the first place - was held out right in front of him. “Oh. Thanks, Dragon.” A little hum of acknowledgement had left the blond as he took a small step back, allowing his dark-haired companion to take the reins. Komodo hovered above you, dagger in-hand and a bone-chilling glint in his eye. 

“Now… Let’s see if you can scream for me.”

—-

It hurt. Each drag of the knife blinding, shooting hot white pain through you. Even if the drug had begun to wear off a bit you were still effectively paralyzed, only being able to let out hoarse screams and sputtering wheezes. Despite the lack of feeling in your limbs you could feel every single slice and jab that was inflicted on you. At first such wounds were inflicted through your tank top, blood soaked fabric quickly sticking to your skin, though the cover didn’t last long when your captors decided that it was in the way of their ministrations. With the top ripped down the middle you were left completely exposed to their hungry eyes and the unforgiving sharpness of the blade. Unbound but completely helpless. 

“You’re moving too fast.” Jace spoke up, voice gruff and sounding a little distant in your hazy state. He, too, came to loom over you. A warm hand trailed along your side - at first it was just the gentle brushing of fingertips, something that drew a little whine from you when it got too close to one of the many wounds that adorned your body. The tiny, pathetic noise that left you seemed to catch both of their attention. Another slice to your wounded body drew another choked noise from you 

Then the chanting started - both of them speaking in a strange tongue, though you couldn’t really bring yourself to care when you suffered yet another gash. This one was deeper, though. It seemed that they’d stopped toying around with you and somehow that was even more terrifying. Throughout this morbid ritual you couldn’t help but sob, teeth grit as your eyes stung. You didn’t know how to feel - should you be angry? To think that you trusted these people only to have them take advantage of it. 

A surprisingly gentle hand cupped your cheek, pulling you from that spiral and back into the moment. “Oh, sweet thing…” Komodo sighed, wiping away another tear that threatened to fall. “Your suffering will be over soon. You’ll be with Him soon…”

‘Him’? Who was he talking about?

Just as quickly as that little comfort had been given to you it was taken away, his bloodied hand leaving a smear on your cheek as his hand was retracted. The chanting started up again, more clear this time. Your eyes widened in terror when the knife raised, preparing to come down right into you, though the sound of a cloth moving drew the attention of the two men standing over you. Standing there was the freckled woman, expression quickly contorting into one of absolute horror at the scene unfolding before her. It was long enough for the pair to get the jump on her. Even if she tried to sprint back out and into the open desert her ‘freedom’ was only short-lived. The woman let out a scream when the knife was driven into her back, both her and Mike falling to the ground below. Despite how wiry he was he managed to keep the upper hand on her. The knife still in his grasp was poised to kill, though Jace decided to stop him.

“Komodo.. How about we use her for the ritual instead?” The suggestion made him take pause, ignoring the woman’s cursing and struggling as he mulled it over. With a little chuckle, almost as if he’d just been told a joke, he looked up at the blond. “You know, that isn’t a half-bad idea!”

Imagine being forced to watch as that woman takes your place, instead being carefully deposited on the cave floor by Jace. You were given a sip of water from a canteen, something that was a little confusing until you felt your stomach sink like it had the first time. You couldn’t even look away as they tore into her, the odd chanting coming into play again as they sacrificed her to whatever sick deity they worshiped. It felt like it had gone on for hours, only stopping a little while after the light had vanished from the woman’s eyes. Once the ritual had been completed they didn’t even bother to clean up the body, instead turning their collective attention to you. 

You weren’t dead but you’d lost enough blood for your surroundings to really begin to dim. You don’t know exactly when it happened, but your wounds were cleaned and bandaged up. Throughout the rest of your stay, you were given sips of the tampered water and kept docile. More often than not at least one of them would be with you, petting your head and making sure that your condition didn’t worsen. 

It wasn’t until a couple days later that you were taken out of that cave, cradled carefully in Jace’s arms as he tried not to jostle any of your injuries. Some strange looks were given from the other two, though they weren’t really stopped. You had survived this hellish vacation, but at what cost? It was a question that plagued your mind as you were taken back to where they were keeping their vehicles, headed back to the apartment. 

Imagine returning to the home you opened up to the very people who almost killed you, but did you truly own it anymore?