#perpetually exploding horror face

[blithefool]

You'd think having a giant hole in your chest would be a problem but I think the psi fire keeps it out...somehow. Best not to think about these things too much.

So uh… can Jono swim? Like presumably he learned how to as a kid because he lived in a city famous for its huge river, but now he has a giant chest cavity that probably completely fucks up his buoyancy

What happens if someone throws him in the ocean? He doesn’t have to breathe so he’d be fine but how would he get out on his own? Just… walk 200 miles back to shore?

[sunarryn]

DP X Marvel #14

It all started with a ghost. A very loud, very neon, very annoying ghost that thought it was a great idea to haunt Stark Tower. Danny Fenton—part-time student, full-time accidental hero, and perpetually exhausted teen—was just trying to track the damn thing through the Manhattan skyline when his portal malfunctioned (again), exploded in his face (again), and slingshotted him across the sky, straight through a window that turned out to be reinforced vibranium glass.

It should’ve stopped him. It didn’t.

Cue the alarms. Cue the dozens of defense drones locking onto his energy signature. Cue a 19-year-old Danny dangling upside down in the penthouse, surrounded by billion-dollar murder bots, trying to explain to a very confused AI that he was not, in fact, an alien invader.

But before FRIDAY could blast him into oblivion, a small voice piped up from behind a couch. “Are you a fairy?”

Danny blinked. Dangling upside down. Singed suit. Ectoplasm dripping from his hair. “Uh. Sure.”

The voice belonged to a tiny, curly-haired gremlin wearing a tutu, light-up sneakers, and what looked like Tony Stark’s old Iron Man helmet—three sizes too big and twice as chaotic. This was Morgan Stark. Age: five. Chaos level: eldritch god. She approached him like a cat approaches a new toy: equal parts curiosity and threat assessment.

“Can you do sparkles?” she asked.

Danny shot a tiny beam of ecto-energy at the ceiling light, which exploded into fireworks.

Morgan gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU ARE A FAIRY.”

And that was how Danny Fenton became Morgan Stark’s official babysitter.

It wasn’t like he volunteered. Or got paid. Or even agreed. Tony Stark had been out of the country—something about a diplomatic mess in Wakanda and a golf game with T’Challa. Pepper had begged Steve Rogers to watch Morgan, but Steve’s idea of babysitting was forcing a child to recite the Constitution. So Pepper, desperate and very, very sleep-deprived, walked into her penthouse to find a teenage boy hovering in midair while her daughter screamed “FAIRY GODBRO” at him and decided, “Yeah. Sure. This’ll do.”

“Can you keep her alive?” Pepper asked, not even blinking at the glowing green eyes.

Danny shrugged. “Uh. I guess?”

“You get dental.”

Danny had no idea what that meant but was too scared to argue.

By Day Three, he was in hell. Not the Ghost Zone. Not some apocalyptic alternate timeline. Actual hell. Or what felt like it. Morgan had no concept of mortality. She once duct-taped kitchen knives to her arms and yelled “I’M WOLVERINE NOW.” Another time, she tried to feed their Roomba peanut butter and sobbed when it wouldn’t eat.

Danny tried to keep up. He really did.

Unfortunately, he was also being hunted by an interdimensional ghost warlord named Balthazar the Undying who decided Stark Tower was a great place to stage his declaration of conquest. So in between coloring pages and singing “Let It Go” for the 57th time (because Morgan said if he didn’t, she’d tell everyone he “pees ectoplasm”), Danny was banishing ancient horrors to the Shadow Realm.

“Why does the air taste like sadness?” Morgan asked one morning, sipping chocolate milk while a spectral hand clawed its way out of the floor behind her.

Danny shot it with a laser without looking. “That’s just the trauma, kid.”

She nodded like that made sense.

By Day Five, things got weirder.

Bruce Banner came over to “assess the babysitter.” What he found was a 19-year-old ghost hybrid making chicken nuggets with one hand while performing an exorcism on a sentient blender with the other. Bruce blinked. “You’re multitasking.”

Danny, dead-eyed and covered in slime: “You’re not my real dad.”

Bruce left after Morgan bit him.

Then Peter Parker dropped by. He took one look at Danny—haggard, twitching, wearing a tiara—and whispered, “Oh my god, he is a hot mess.”

“Shut up,” Danny snapped, using his foot to hold down a haunted Roomba. “Help me tie up the possessed dolls.”

Peter did not help. He just filmed everything for TikTok. The video went viral under the title “Me when I leave a random ghost fairy babysitter with Tony Stark’s child and come back to find him summoning the underworld during snack time.”

Nick Fury saw the video and sent a S.W.O.R.D. strike team to investigate.

Morgan beat them with a plastic lightsaber.

On Day Seven, Danny woke up to find Morgan riding a flying toaster around the living room like it was a dragon.

“WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?”

“I summoned it,” she said proudly.

“HOW.”

“I made a deal with your ghost friends.”

Danny’s left eye twitched so hard he saw the Ghost Zone.

Pepper walked in on him mid-breakdown. “You’ve been great with her,” she said, sipping her coffee. “We haven’t seen her this happy since… well, ever.”

Danny, clinging to the ceiling like a feral raccoon, wheezed, “I think she opened a portal to the Necroplane. There’s a demon named Craig living in the fridge.”

Pepper patted his arm. “All babysitters say that.”

Craig opened the fridge and waved. “Sup.”

By Week Two, Danny had stopped pretending to be normal. He phased through walls, levitated toys, vaporized anything that smelled like danger, and occasionally screamed “I’M TOO YOUNG TO BE HAVING A MID-LIFE CRISIS” into the void.

Tony finally came home. He blinked at the scene: Danny napping upside down like a bat while Morgan built a nuclear reactor out of old toaster parts and a Roomba named Kevin.

“Who the hell is that?” Tony asked.

Morgan didn’t even look up. “My fairy godbrother. He banished an evil frog ghost and helped me build an orbital laser.”

Tony stared. “Huh. Alright.”

And just like that, Danny Fenton became part of the Avengers.

He didn’t sign anything. He didn’t train. He didn’t even get a uniform. But every time something exploded or a portal opened or some ancient deity said “BEHOLD MY TRUE FORM,” Danny just floated into the air, cracked his back like an old man, and said, “Not in front of the child, you drama bitch.”

Morgan, from her juice box throne: “YEET HIM INTO THE VOID, DANNY.”

And he did.

It only got worse when the other Avengers got involved.

Natasha tried to teach Morgan how to do spy stuff. Morgan used the techniques to sneak into Tony’s wine cellar and replace the labels with glitter glue and threats.

Thor visited once. Morgan asked if she could ride his hammer. He said no. She cried. The hammer floated toward her on its own. Danny had to wrestle it away.

Clint brought over a bow and arrow set. Morgan hit Peter in the ass with a suction cup dart. Danny laughed so hard he choked on ectoplasm.

Wanda stared at Danny for a full ten minutes before whispering, “You’re not from this plane.”

Danny, deadpan: “Neither is your eyeliner.”

They became friends.

One night, Danny woke up to find Morgan drawing summoning circles on the walls in glitter glue.

“Whatcha doing, champ?”

“Trying to summon a unicorn for Auntie Yelena.”

Danny blinked. “Go back to bed.”

She glared. “You don’t support women in STEM.”

By Month One, SHIELD had officially labeled Danny as a “Class 7 Unexplainable Being with Babysitting Potential.” He had a badge. He had clearance. He had no idea what was happening anymore.

All he knew was that if Morgan Stark said “Danny, I wanna adopt a ghost puppy,” then by God, he was going to march into the Ghost Zone and wrestle a spectral hellhound into a leash.

And he did.

Its name is Toast.

Danny Fenton—ghost boy, half-dead teenager, babysitter of the year—accidentally became the most powerful figure in the universe. Not because of his powers. Not because of his knowledge. Not even because of his tragic backstory.

But because Morgan Stark liked him. And if you hurt Morgan Stark, you would be introduced to Craig, the fridge demon, and Kevin, the haunted Roomba, and Toast, the ghost puppy, and then, finally, the very angry, very tired, very over-it Danny Phantom who could—and would—yeet you into another dimension for interrupting nap time.

The Avengers knew better than to interfere.

Even Thanos came back to life once, took one look at Danny and Morgan, and said, “No thanks.”

He snapped himself back out of existence.

Danny didn’t even flinch.

Morgan dabbed.

And somewhere, in the vast multiverse of chaos and consequence, Tony Stark looked at his daughter, his haunted apartment, his glowing ghost babysitter eating fruit snacks while levitating a possessed microwave, and muttered to himself—

“Yeah. That tracks.”

[remlionheart]

⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡MDNI ⋆𐙚₊˚⊹♡

ᡣ𐭩 I really have no excuse for this tbh, it’s midnight and I’m ovulating and overly eager boyfriend Yuuji was heavy on my mind 🙂‍↕️💫 ((aged up characters)) yuujixfem!reader ᡣ𐭩

yuuji who just loves touching you 24/7. whose hand is always so eager to brush across your skin, he often forgets his surroundings.

the two of you are on his couch one night with some b-grade horror movie that he and junpei wanted to watch playing in the background. junpei’s sitting on the floor next to you guys, both of them going back and forth with so many trivial facts about the film you don’t even see how they’re paying attention to it.

your eyes are heavy, your body spooned against yuuji’s with a throw blanket loosely covering you. his fingers are running through your hair, him and junpei still going on and on - something about the director’s cut and an alternate ending when suddenly, his other hand is wedging itself between your thighs.

playing with the opening of your shorts as your eyes dart to his from over your shoulder. he grins back at you, holding a finger to his lips. junpei continues to stare at the screen in front of him, completely unaware of the other show that’s about to start promptly behind him.

the movie flickers across the grainy tv screen, an eerie piano melody echoing across the room while the main girl finds herself lost and alone in a dark forest as a thunderstorm starts. you’re doing everything you can to focus on the details of it. to avoid flinching from the way yuuji spreads you apart. his two thick fingers tentatively grazing along your folds, gathering up slick you didn’t even realize was there causing you to grind further into him. your back arching so perfectly it makes his cock twitch.

you close your eyes, pretending to be asleep in case junpei decides to look up at either of you. you know he probably won’t given how entranced he is by this director - but still! this is reckless, even for your perpetually-ready-to-make-you-cum boyfriend.

yuuji keeps somehow talking though. keeps laughing and acting like his dick isn’t hard as a fucking rock and pressed firmly against your ass as he begins to lazily play with your clit, drawing heavenly circles that have you suddenly biting at the side of your hand to keep yourself from letting out a dangerously suppressed moan.

you do your absolute best to pretend you’re still asleep, carefully rolling over to face him as he continues to nonchalantly toy with you. lightly running uppp and downnn your slit. you feel like you’re going to explode, pathetically attempting to pass off a whimper as a yawn when you feel him start to prod at your entrance.

“aw, she’s tired huh?” junpei comments.

“yeah,” yuuji smiles, biting back a laugh at the way your mouth drops open and you eyes nearly cross when he finally slips a finger into you. “she’s pretty spent.”

a chase scene ensues, the loud stomps and suspenseful music of the killer running after his victim being enough to cover up the wet, squelching sounds of yuuji’s fingers slamming blissfully into your gummy walls.

he smiles at you again, mouthing “it’s okay, it’s okay.” as his fingers go deeper, but slower, hitting that spot you like at just the right angle.

“hey junpei, sorry to ask but - would you mind grabbing me a beer?”

“oh yeah, of course” he says, getting to his feet.

the moment he’s out of the room, yuuji’s suddenly knuckles deep again, your needy little cunt clamping around him so nice and snug while your eyes and body both plead with him.

he lets his mouth catch all of the cute, desperate noises you can’t hold back anymore, his tongue swirling against yours feverishly while you struggle to keep your voice down. luckily though, your lewd whines seem to blend perfectly into the screams coming from the tv.

“your pussy’s so soft ‘n so pretty, y’know that?” he whispers, reeling in the way you’re drenching him. “i could play with it forever if you’d let me.”

his words make you dizzy, your body instantly wanting him back where he was as he pulls out and licks his fingers clean from the mess you made, letting out his own little groan at your taste. “you’ll get the whole thing later, don’t worry.” he promises, placing a light kiss on your forehead right as junpei re-enters the room and hands him his beer.

“what all did i miss?”

“not much,” yuuji muses, cracking open his drink. “he finally got her off…”

your heart stutters in your chest, your knee swiftly nudging his.

“…the path she was on.” he finishes, swallowing down his beer. “she was soaked by the time he caught up to her.”

you softly pinch him, feeling him smile as junpei laughs, none the wiser.

the two of them continue on with their banter while you actually do doze off this time. yuuji’s hand gliding across your neck as he silently begins counting down the minutes until he gets to bury himself inside of you again.

he just can’t help it :((( he loves touching you.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

[solxamber]

On my hands and knees sobbing throwing up combusting into dust signs my soul away to you THAT WAS SO SO SOOOOO CUTEEEEEE GUAYAYYAYYUUUUUAUAGAHHHHHH!!!!!!!!! Poor Rollo thinks hes just being nice meanwhile poor yuu is so used to people digging underneath the bar that he's literally prince charming incarnate. Rollo clearly needs to adjust their standards and do what the villains could not by kissing yuu softly while they take a nap. And also threaten crowley to give them money for food. ANYWAYS!!!! THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR FEEDING ME AND THE 5 OTHER ROLLO FANS THAT SURVIVED THE FAMINE (/j) I OWE YOU MY LIFE!!!!! This message is getting so long, but you deserve to know how awesome your writing is and that I look forward to whatever you post for real. I slide over a crisp 5 maddol and ask for when you feel like it (and if you even want to ofc!!) A part 3 where maybe they're deeper in the relationship and are doing heinous things like m*king out and grimm thinks they should be executed for making him walk into this horror. (He didn't knock. Bc he's grimm. He claimed to be scarred for life until Rollo busted out the premium tuna suddenly we should get married asap) . ANYWAYS SORRY FOR THE LONG RAMBLE. IM BARKING AND CRYING AND EXPLODING AND PROPOSING TO YOU. Signed with love, rollo anon 💗💝💖

Rollo Flamme x reader

i just saw this and this almost made me cry 🫶 also sorry for the very long wait

Part 1 ; Part 2

Rollo was nothing if not diligent. Whether it was reorganizing the shelves at the library, fixing the perpetually squeaky door in Ramshackle, or chastising Grim for yet another snack-induced fire hazard, he was always helping in his quietly intense way. It wasn’t just duty—he genuinely seemed to enjoy making your life easier, which both baffled and warmed you to your core.

You, of course, did what you could to return the favor. Helping him clean up after unruly magic festival events, proofreading his endless notes about anti-magic policies, and gently reminding him to relax when he got that telltale furrow in his brow.

And you were in love.

Like, grossly in love. The kind of love where you found his huffy rants about magical irresponsibility charming and he tolerated Grim's chaos just to spend more time with you. It was a weird, wonderful balance you’d somehow managed to strike.

Which led to this particular evening: you and Rollo, tangled on the old, creaky couch in your room at Ramshackle.

It had started innocently enough. You’d been reviewing a new book he'd brought for you—something philosophical, of course, but he’d chosen it specifically because he thought you’d enjoy it. You were teasing him about his insistence on leaving a handwritten note inside the front cover (“Who even does this, Rollo? It’s adorable, but—seriously?”), and he had flushed in that way that made you want to pinch his cheeks.

Then one thing led to another.

Now, his lips were on yours, one hand cradling your face with the kind of reverence that made your heart twist. His other arm was around your waist, anchoring you against him. Rollo might not have been an experienced romantic, but he made up for it in sheer, focused intensity. When he kissed you, it felt like you were the only thing in the world that mattered to him.

“You’re—mmph—very distracting,” he murmured against your lips, his voice low and tinged with amusement.

You grinned, tugging him closer. “Says the guy who started this.”

His only response was to kiss you again, deeper this time, until your brain was reduced to a pleasant, fizzy blur. The world outside the room ceased to exist. It was just you, him, and the creak of the couch as you shifted closer—

“WHAT IN THE NAME OF ALL THAT IS GOOD AND HOLY?! MY EYES! THEY’RE RUINED!”

Grim’s shrill scream shattered the moment like glass.

You froze, pulling back to see Grim standing in the doorway, paws dramatically covering his eyes. “HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO ME? ON MY COUCH?”

“Grim, it’s my couch,” you said, face burning.

“You’re the henchhuman; it’s ours by default!” Grim wailed. “And now it’s a place of SIN!”

Rollo, to his credit, had already straightened up, his expression transitioning from flustered to composed in record time. “Grim,” he said, voice calm yet firm, “surely you’ve barged in enough times to anticipate that privacy should be respected.”

“Oh, I respected it,” Grim sniffed. “But my henchhuman clearly has no shame. And you!” He pointed an accusatory paw at Rollo. “I thought you were better than this! But no, you’re—”

Rollo, completely unbothered by the tirade, reached into his bag and produced a can of… premium tuna?

Grim’s rant ground to a halt. His ears perked up as he sniffed the air. “Wait. Is that—?”

“Indeed,” Rollo said smoothly, holding it up like a peace offering. “A gift I intended to give later, but it seems circumstances call for a different approach.”

Grim’s eyes lit up with unrestrained glee. “You know what? I’ve never doubted you for a second, Rollo!” He scurried forward, practically salivating as he swiped the can. “You’re clearly the best thing that’s ever happened to my henchhuman. You two should get married. Tomorrow. I’ll get a priest. I’m sure Crowley owes me a favor.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands as Grim popped the can open with zero regard for decorum. “Grim, you are the worst.”

“Correction: I’m the best,” Grim said, already devouring the tuna with gusto. Between bites, he added, “This guy’s a keeper. Don’t mess it up, henchhuman.”

Rollo’s lips twitched, a hint of amusement breaking through his otherwise composed demeanor. He leaned closer, whispering just loud enough for you to hear, “Shall we take his advice?”

You gave him a playful shove, laughing despite yourself. “Not helping, Rollo.”

But deep down, as Grim devoured his bribe and Rollo sat beside you with that quietly pleased look, you couldn’t deny that the idea didn’t sound all that bad.

The exhaustion of the day had finally caught up to you, and you’d collapsed onto your bed with a sigh of relief. “Wake me up for class, okay?” you mumbled to Rollo, who was sitting at your desk, meticulously organizing the scattered notes you’d left behind.

“I’ll make sure you’re on time,” he replied, his voice carrying that steady assurance you found oddly comforting.

You barely managed a hum of acknowledgment before sleep claimed you, leaving the world behind in a haze of warm, peaceful quiet.

When you stirred again, it wasn’t the sound of your alarm or the creak of the floorboards that woke you. It was something far gentler.

A warm, featherlight pressure on your forehead.

Your eyes fluttered open slowly, and the first thing you saw was Rollo leaning over you, his expression soft in a way that made your heart do an Olympic-level somersault. He was close enough that you could see the slight flush on his cheeks, though his composure never wavered.

“Good morning,” he said softly, his voice a gentle murmur. “It’s time to get ready for class.”

You blinked at him, your still-sleepy brain struggling to process what had just happened. “Did you… just kiss me awake?”

His blush deepened, but he stood his ground, meeting your gaze with quiet confidence. “You looked so peaceful. I thought it would be a more pleasant way to wake you than simply shaking your shoulder.”

Your heart melted on the spot. If there was a scale for romantic gestures, this one had just broken it.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said, though your voice betrayed how utterly smitten you were.

“Perhaps,” he replied, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “But you didn’t seem to mind.”

You didn’t bother arguing because he was absolutely right. Instead, you reached out, tugging him down for a proper kiss this time.

When you finally pulled away, you smirked at his flustered expression. “If you keep this up, I’m going to start napping more often.”

He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. “If that’s the case, I’ll have to be even more diligent about ensuring you don’t oversleep.”

You laughed, warmth blooming in your chest as you sat up and stretched. “Thanks for waking me, Rollo. Really.”

“Of course,” he said, his tone earnest as ever. “It’s the least I can do.”

The man was going to ruin you with how thoughtful he was. And as you got ready for class with a lingering smile on your face, you couldn’t help but think that waking up like this every day wouldn’t be so bad.

It started with something simple. You were both sitting in the courtyard of the chapel, enjoying a quiet moment together. The sun was setting, casting a warm glow over everything, and Rollo was, as usual, the picture of composure. He was reading a book—some historical text you’d never have the patience for—but his attention drifted when he noticed you staring at the horizon, lost in thought.

“Are you cold?” he asked, setting his book aside and leaning slightly closer.

You blinked out of your reverie, shaking your head with a soft smile. “No, I’m fine.”

He studied you for a moment, then pulled his scarf from around his neck and gently draped it over your shoulders anyway. “Just in case,” he murmured.

It wasn’t anything extraordinary—just a scarf—but the gesture made your heart swell. The scarf smelled faintly of lavender, and the warmth of it felt like an extension of Rollo himself.

“Thanks, Rollo,” you said, voice soft.

He nodded, but when he saw the way your smile lingered, something shifted in his expression. His usual composed demeanor softened into something… almost reverent.

“You deserve this,” he said, his tone uncharacteristically tender.

“Huh?” You tilted your head at him, confused.

“You deserve to be cared for,” he clarified, meeting your gaze with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “You give so much of yourself to others. It’s only natural that someone should do the same for you.”

You stared at him, heart racing. “Rollo, I… That’s really sweet.”

His eyes narrowed slightly, though not at you. “It’s concerning that such basic decency stands out to you,” he muttered, almost to himself. “What kind of environment is this school fostering?”

The thought of Rollo, grimacing at the thought of NRC’s questionable population, made you burst into laughter. “I mean, you’ve met Grim, right? The standards here are subterranean.”

Rollo’s expression softened again when he saw how amused you were. “Even so,” he said, taking your hands in his with surprising gentleness, “you should never feel as though you’re asking for too much when you expect kindness or respect. It’s what you’re owed.”

Your heart did a little somersault, and you couldn’t help but giggle, ridiculously touched. “Stop, you’re going to make me cry,” you teased, though the slight quiver in your voice betrayed how close you were to actually tearing up.

He smiled faintly, leaning closer until his forehead nearly touched yours. “If you cry, I’ll simply have to dry your tears,” he said, his voice low and earnest. “Though I’d rather see you smiling.”

You let out another helpless laugh, pulling your hands free so you could lightly swat at his arm. “Stop being so romantic! I can’t handle this!”

Rollo chuckled softly, pleased with your reaction. “If it makes you happy, then I’ll consider it a worthwhile effort.”

And he meant it. He was genuinely, utterly content to see you so touched, so happy. Yet, somewhere in the back of his mind, a quiet but fierce determination grew. The villains and miscreants of NRC may not have treated you with the respect you deserved, but he would make it his mission to ensure you never doubted your worth again.

Masterlist

[starspilli]

perpetually exploding horror face

[littleststarfighter]

In X-men unlimited 79 Jono teamed up with Marrow and Feral, and they all wore dapper suits to try and get into a club.

So that was all the excuse I needed to draw this. Mr Perpetually exploding Horror face can clean up sometimes.

[candycandy00]

The Experiment - A Mr. Compress x Reader Fanfic

Part of the League of Villains Halloween Horror Anthology! Featuring Mr. Compress as a Mad Scientist!

Smut. 18+. Oral sex, blood, implied gore/death/torture (“offscreen”). Mr. Compress in glasses. F! Reader. Zombies. Horror.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Eerie red light flooded the room. You squinted and held your hand over your eyes, not quite used to the emergency beacons flashing wildly as a siren screamed from overhead. It was only the second time you’d experienced such a thing. Working in the top secret laboratories on the island was certainly not boring. 

At least a dozen people in long white coats were running back and forth, scrambling to gather up weapons and shouting into communicators. “Another one got out!” someone screamed, and you shuddered. The thought of one of those things running around loose made your skin crawl. 

A woman stopped beside you. “Hey, what are you doing?! Don’t just stand there, grab a gun and help us find it!” 

You blinked at her, thinking she couldn’t be serious. I’m only an assistant. This wasn’t in the job description. I don’t even know how to use a gun. 

The woman huffed angrily and ran off. You were relieved. You glanced around the room, watching the chaotic scene. People appeared and then disappeared into the hallways, through three separate doors. Monitors along the far wall displayed every possible nook and cranny in the building as the cameras searched frantically for the missing experiment. 

One of the doors flew open yet again and a familiar voice yelled, “I found it! On the third floor!” 

Your eyes fell on the man standing just inside the room, panting as he tried to catch his breath. A rifle was in his right hand. He looked up and noticed you, then grinned at you from behind his wire-rimmed glasses. “I found it,” he repeated in your direction. 

You nodded, smiling. “Good job, Doctor.” 

“Would you like to come help me catch it?” 

Your face turned red. “You... want me to come with you?” 

The doctor looked at you, puzzled. “Sure. I’ll need all the backup I can get!” 

You lowered your eyes. “Oh. I’m sorry, Doctor, but I don’t know how to use a gun.” 

He looked surprised. “Really? We’ll have to fix that. Sit this one out then!” And with that he waved and headed back into the hall. Several more people ran after him. 

You flopped into a nearby chair and sighed. So much for being alone with him. But I guess hunting down one of those things wouldn’t really be that romantic. 

You had been Doctor Sako’s assistant for the past two months, from your first day on the job. It was love at first sight. He had stepped out of one of the experimentation rooms, splattered from head to toe in blood, and given you the most beautiful smile you’d ever seen. Like he was genuinely happy to see you. Like he’d been waiting for you. All his life. 

He was handsome, in an unconventional way. Wavy dark hair, warm brown eyes behind large glasses, a perpetually stained white lab coat worn over a button up shirt, suspenders attached to black pants. He wasn’t exactly Prince Charming, but his smile lit up any space he walked into. 

The room had gone quiet. All the scientists involved in the search had followed Doctor Sako to the third floor. You looked up at the monitors, where you saw them all standing around in the hall. The floor and walls were covered in gore. Blood, clumps of flesh, battered internal organs, all splashed across the hall as if someone had just exploded. A few minutes later Doctor Sako returned, so covered in guts that his messy hair looked completely red and you couldn’t find a single spot on him that was clean. 

He smiled at you again. “Well, that’s done.” 

You laughed nervously. “You have an exciting job.” 

“Yes, but now we have to get back to the boring work,” he said with a chuckle. 

You were happy as you stood up and followed him to his office. Your small desk was across the room from his, facing him. You spent a great deal of time filing papers and organizing files and helping him go over test results. You didn’t have clearance to go into the experimentation rooms with him, and so you never knew exactly what was going on. But you had seen some of the test subjects and always waited just outside the door for him, ready to fetch anything he might need. 

“Do you need some coffee?” you asked, walking toward the door to get some for yourself. 

“That would be lovely, thank you,” he said, eyes quickly scanning a document in his hands. 

You left the office, closing the door behind you and heading for the meager kitchen area. You poured yourself a cup of coffee, then another for the doctor. You hummed happily to yourself as you added cream and sugar to his cup. You couldn’t explain why, but you felt extremely pleased to know exactly how he liked his coffee. He liked sweet things, you had realized within a week of working for him. And so you occasionally brought chocolates to work with you and always made sure to offer him some. 

The lady scientist who had yelled at you earlier appeared in the kitchen, filling a glass of water. She looked at you with disgust. “What are you so happy about?” 

Your faint humming stopped suddenly. “Excuse me?” 

The woman frowned. “Today was a disaster. Three weeks of work just went down the drain. Millions of dollars wasted. Anyone who cares about our work here would be devastated, not humming and grinning like an idiot.” 

“That’s not true!” you found yourself saying a little too loudly. “Doctor Sako cares about his work more than anyone and he’s still smiling!” 

The woman stared at you. “The way you talk about him, the way you look at him, is highly inappropriate for a working environment. Besides, you have no idea what kind of person he is.” 

“I do know! I know he’s a sweet and friendly person. I know he’s brilliant and kind and always makes time for others!” 

“But have you seen him working? Have you been in the experimentation rooms?” 

You reluctantly shook your head. “Not yet, but he says that after I’ve been here long enough, I can.” 

The woman laughed. “You’re in for a big surprise then. Doctor Sako is a monster in those rooms, a butcher. He has absolutely no regard for human beings.” 

You hesitated for a moment, not sure how to respond. You glanced at the doctor’s sugared coffee and remembered his smile. “You’re wrong,” you finally said. “He’s a gentle person. I’m sure he has to hurt people sometimes for his work, but it’s important to him.” 

The woman chuckled again, highly amused. “Whatever you say, honey.” 

You grabbed the two cups of coffee from the counter and hurried into the hall, nearly colliding with two people before reaching the doctor’s office. You sat his coffee on his desk and he looked up at you with a smile. “Thank you, my dear.” 

You nodded and returned to your own desk, but you couldn’t focus on your work. You couldn’t stop watching him, thinking about what the woman had told you. Doctor Sako was cute and charming. He couldn’t possibly be that bad. You finally spoke up. 

“Doctor?” 

He looked at you. “Yes?” 

“What exactly do you do... in the experimentation rooms?” 

He stared at you blankly for a few moments, as if the question surprised him. “Well, we test our products on them. See how their bodies react to the different strains we’ve created.” 

“Strains?” 

“Of viruses. To use for biological weapons. And of course we’ve been trying to create reanimated corpses that will serve as soldiers in the future.” 

“The zombies?” 

The Doctor held his hands up immediately and made a shushing motion. “Don’t let the others hear you say that! They really hate that term.” 

You were embarrassed. “Oh, sorry.” 

“But yes, the zombies. We’ve been able to create twelve so far, but none of them have lasted very long and we’ve had varied results on their motor functions and cognitive abilities.” 

“I see,” you said. “So... the work you’re doing... it’s for a good cause then.” 

“Oh, absolutely! It’s the most important thing in the world for me!” 

The doctor was beaming with pride, and you decided he had earned the right to do so. He was the head scientist over the whole lab, the top paid employee of their mysterious company. He only answered to a select few people, men in fancy suits who showed up once a week to check the progress of their work, dish out money to fund more experiments, and occasionally fire someone who wasn’t doing their best. 

The doctor suddenly smiled at you. “You want to visit the experimentation rooms, don’t you?” 

You were taken off guard by his question, but nodded slowly. In truth, you were a little uneasy about seeing what went on behind the locked steel doors. But the thought of getting to know Doctor Sako better, of being able to understand his work and his goals, overcame your fear of the unknown. 

“I’ll ask Shreve tonight. He’s coming for the weekly meeting.” 

Your heart fluttered. He really wants to show me his work. He wants to share it with me. 

A clock chimed somewhere in the building and the doctor stood up. “Time to do a check-up,” he said cheerfully, grabbing a pair of latex gloves from a nearby dispenser as he left the room. You followed him into the hall and stopped just outside a large shiny door. 

“I’ll be waiting here, doctor, in case you need anything.” 

He waved in return and closed the door behind him. You stood quietly for several minutes before sliding down the wall into a sitting position on the floor. A few scientists walked by and gave you dirty looks. I don’t care. I’m Doctor Sako’s assistant, not theirs. As long as he’s pleased with me, nothing else matters. 

You’d been waiting for nearly two hours before the door swung open and the doctor peeked out. “I need some assistance!” he yelled, but his voice was nearly engulfed by another sound. 

Screaming. Someone was screaming from within the room. It was so loud and high-pitched that you couldn’t tell if the voice was male or female. As the doctor stood in the door way, you stole a glance into the room behind him. Something laid on a table, something that took you several seconds to realize was a human being. You could see an arm and two legs, but everything in between was just a big bloody pile of goo. At the top, you could almost make out a face. But it was so distorted and twisted with shock and horror that it did nothing to help you distinguish the gender. 

“What is...” 

“Listen, dear!” the doctor suddenly yelled, and your attention was snapped away from the grizzly scene inside. You realized then that in Doctor Sako’s left hand was an arm. A bloody, mangled arm. In his right hand was a saw. 

“Yes... doctor?” you managed to say, feeling a little dazed. 

“I need some buckets right away!” 

The bizarrely serious look on his face made you scramble to your feet and dash off without another word to the supply closet to grab the requested buckets. They were large and bright orange and you couldn’t carry more than two. You reached them to him and he immediately dropped the arm into the first bucket with a disgusting thud and thanked you as he shut the door again. 

He emerged another hour later, covered in a fresh coat of blood, and this time there were no sounds coming from the room. The lights were off and you couldn’t see anything before he closed the door and locked it with his personal key. He pulled off his glasses and pulled back his soaked lab coat, holding up the collar of his shirt to wipe the lenses. 

He looked at you and grinned. “Second time today,” he said with a laugh. 

You watched him uneasily, not sure what to say after having seen something so disturbing. You finally decided to just ask him about it. You took a deep breath. “Doctor, what was that?” 

He replaced his glasses. “Oh, you saw? Just another reanimated corpse. After we lost one today, I thought we’d better try to create another one quickly to replace it. You know, the meeting tonight and all.” 

“Did it work?” 

“The subject didn’t respond well to the virus. We had to terminate the experiment.” 

“I see,” you said. 

“I have to go clean up. Shreve will be here any minute.” 

You nodded and watched him disappear around a corner. You returned to his office, sitting down and laying your head upon your desk. Maybe the other scientist was right. Maybe he does do horrible things in those rooms. But it was just a zombie. It was already dead. You can’t hurt something that’s already dead. 

The terrible screams you heard earlier flooded your mind and you closed your eyes tightly, trying to force the memory out. It’s for his work. This will make our military stronger. It’ll make our country stronger. He’s doing good things. He’s a good person! 

Doctor Sako came back to his office with a fresh lab coat and most of the blood washed from his face and hands. Stains still littered his pants and clumps of stuff you didn’t care to identify still clung to stray strands of his hair. He sat down in his leather chair and began typing at his computer. You watched him intently. 

He suddenly caught your eye. “Is something wrong?” 

You hesitated for a moment, then stood up and closed the distance between your desk and his. “Doctor, I... really enjoy working with you.” 

He was staring up at you and looked a little confused. “I enjoy working with you too,” he said. 

Your heart was pounding furiously and your cheeks were beginning to burn, but you’d made up your mind. You had to tell him how you felt, before your mind became any more clouded with doubts. You swallowed hard and looked him in the eyes. “Do you have anyone that you love?” 

He looked even more confused. “I, uh, love my work.” 

“I’m in love with you.” 

His eyes widened. His pale face became pink. “Oh... I...” 

You felt like your knees would give out at any moment, but it was too late to turn back now. “I don’t expect you to return my feelings, but I wanted you to know how I feel. I don’t want you to treat me differently. I don’t want this to change our working relationship. I just...” you trailed off, taken surprise by how adorably embarrassed he looked, like a school boy. You wanted to laugh, but realized how inappropriate that would be. Had no girl ever confessed her love for him? Had he never been in a relationship? 

You felt a little more confident as a smile tried to creep onto your face. You walked around his desk and stood over him. You leaned down, inching closer to him. You were moving slowly, giving him plenty of time to stop you or pull away or push you back. But he seemed to be frozen, watching you with shock. When you were close enough to feel his breath on your face, you paused. “Could you accept my feelings, Doctor?” 

“I... uh... think you’re very pretty and... I’m flattered, really.” 

You blushed, extremely pleased to receive the compliment but now fearful that he was preparing to reject you. You were just waiting for a ‘But’. 

“But...” 

You quickly pressed your lips to his, effectively cutting him off. You couldn’t bear to let him finish, to hear his rejection. You wrapped your arms around his neck and within seconds you were in his lap. You eventually became aware of his hands on your back, pulling you closer to him and somewhat clumsily creeping beneath your lab coat. He does like me! He wouldn’t be doing this if he didn’t like me. He’d be pushing me away. 

You didn’t dare to break the kiss, even as he pulled off your lab coat and slid his off his shoulders. He was so warm and soft and his mouth tasted sweet like the candy and cakes he was always eating. This was a dream come true. This was what all your fantasies were made of. Just this moment in Doctor Sako’s arms. 

After a few moments, you slid from his lap and onto your knees in front of him, looking up at him as you unbuckled his belt. He was breathing harder as he watched you, his dark eyes wide behind his glasses. He looked flustered, but he made no attempt to stop you as you opened his pants and slid the waistband of his boxers down far enough to free his cock. You were surprised that he was already hard, and when you glanced at his face, a light blush had dusted his cheeks. 

You couldn’t help smiling. You leaned forward and licked gently at his tip, and you heard his breath hitch. Feeling emboldened by his reaction, you took him into your mouth, using your tongue to circle his length. His hands were gripping the arm rests of his chair, and his eyes never left you, seeming entranced. You moved your head back and forth, sliding your lips up and down him, using your saliva to keep him slick. 

He made quick, stilted moans that turned you on as you continued sucking his dick, determined to get him off. It didn’t take too long. He was probably even more inexperienced than you were. His entire body went rigid when he came into your mouth, a shuddering groan filling your ears. You swallowed every last drop, locking eyes with him as you licked up any remaining drops. 

You got back to your feet and he pulled you back into his lap, his hands tugging your skirt up as you wrapped your arms around him. 

A harsh knock came at the door, causing you to practically leap from Sako’s lap and retreat back to your desk. He looked nervously at you, his face red, then stood up and straightened his lab coat, making his way toward the door. He reached up and tried to smooth out his ever messy hair before turning the knob. 

Shreve, a stuffy looking business man in a black suit walked in. “Did I interrupt you, doctor?” 

The man’s eyes very pointedly shifted to your discarded lab coat on the floor. You blushed and sank lower in your chair. Doctor Sako laughed uneasily and picked it up. “Not at all, sir. I was expecting you.” 

Shreve made no attempt to participate in small talk. “Let’s step into the meeting room. I want a full report on what happened here today. I’ve heard some disappointing things about the newest subject.” 

“Of course, sir,” the doctor replied, draping your coat over his own chair and giving you a weak grin before leaving with Shreve. 

You were left alone in his office, your face still burning with a combination of embarrassment and excitement. I can’t believe it. I kissed him. He kissed me back. It was so perfect! Why did Shreve have to ruin it? 

You spent a few minutes sulking before an idea hit you. Doctor Sako had said he would ask Shreve about giving you clearance to go into the experimentation rooms. If he’d found your behavior inappropriate, he wouldn’t ask. But if he liked you, and wanted to spend more time with you, he would. 

You quietly exited the room and crept down the hall, toward the meeting room. You arrived at the door and stood beside it, trying to listen. You could hear Shreve’s raised voice but couldn’t make out what he was saying. You very carefully reached down and twisted the knob, sliding the door open just a little, enough to allow sound to escape. 

“You’re wasting our money and our time! If you can’t start producing real results, we’re going to have to cut off funds.” 

Doctor Sako’s voice sounded strained, worried. “We’re doing our best. We just don’t have enough subjects to work with. You were supposed to send us more. As of today, we have no new subjects in the entire building.” 

Shreve’s voice sounded like a roar. “Then find your own subjects! I want results this time next week, or there will be serious consequences!” 

You slid the door shut and silently walked back down the hall. You felt guilty for listening in, and felt sorry for the doctor. How could he possibly ask about getting you clearance when he was already in trouble? Things had went from amazing to depressing in the course of ten minutes. 

You stopped beside Doctor Sako’s office and leaned face-first against the door. You felt so stupid now for saying such silly things to him, for putting on such a shameful display. He had enough on his mind. How could you face him now? 

You started to turn around when you heard a loud, sudden cracking sound, almost like a bat hitting a baseball. White light flooded your vision and you felt the sensation of falling backward. All sound then melted away, and you lifted your eyes to see the ceiling above you. Through the haze of light, you thought you caught a glimpse of Doctor Sako’s face. And then, nothing. 

When you opened your eyes again, the first thing you noticed was that you hurt. Everywhere. It was as if someone had simply poured a bucket of pain over your entire body. Your eyes seemed blurry and you strained to see in front of you as objects started to become clear. You could see a plain white wall at first, and slowly the rest of the room came into view. A tiny video camera sat in the far corner of the ceiling, pointing at you. To the left, you could see a large metal door. And to your right... 

“Good morning, my dear!”

You turned to the voice and blinked. Doctor Sako smiled at you, the same smile he had given you the day you met, the smile that told you he had been waiting for you all along. The smile you fell in love with. 

“What happened?” you asked, and you realized your voice was tiny and weak. Your whole body was aching severely and you couldn’t move anything. It took you a while to realize that your arms and legs were tied down with leather straps, and you were completely naked. 

You jerked wildly, your first instinct to cover yourself, then cried out when sharp stabbing pain shot through your arms. The dull aches became unbearable stings. “Doctor, what’s going on?! What’s wrong with me?!” 

He reached out a latex glove-covered hand and patted your head. “Calm down. It’s alright. Your body adjusted to the virus wonderfully. The first part of the experiment has been a great success.” 

You heard the words but your brain couldn’t seem to process them. “Experiment?” 

“I explained it to you before, didn’t I? Creating reanimated corpses. Wait, what was the term you used? Zombie? Yes, you’re a zombie now.” 

You stared at him in horror, not able to believe what he was saying. All the more terrible was that he was still smiling. “No... please... you can’t do this to me!” you cried, “I’m your assistant! You’re a good person, you wouldn’t do this!” 

The smile faded slightly. “I thought you understood. This is a very important experiment. In fact, today we’re going to start the second phase.” 

“Second phase?” 

The smile returned. “You’re the most successful subject we’ve encountered so far. Judging by your reactions since waking up, you’ve retained all your motor functions and have incredible cognitive abilities. You can still think, talk, and feel. You’re a perfect specimen to study.” 

You tried to shake your head, but your neck was so stiff that the pain was too great. Tears fell down your face. “I don’t understand... I can’t be dead! I’m not dead!” 

Doctor Sako seemingly ignored you. “The next phase of the experiment is to find out just how much damage a subject can take before it finally dies a second time. Oh but don’t worry, you’re quite durable now. I think you’ll last quite a while!”

Your vision was becoming blurry again from your tears. You tried to control your sobs, as each time your body shook you were racked with excruciating pain. “Please... please don’t do this.. I love you. I thought... I thought you...” 

He patted your head again. “I told you, I love my work. Now you’re my work.” 

You gaped at him, still not able to get over the shock of what he was saying. He even turned a little pink, as if he were confessing his love for you. “Oh God... she was right... the woman in the kitchen...” 

But your voice broke off when you spotted the large saw in the doctor’s right hand. He held up his left hand and grinned. “Look, I remembered the buckets this time!” 

And anyone unfortunate enough to wander by the experimentation room as Doctor Sako entered or left would find their ears overwhelmed by the sound of screaming. And some would wonder what lurked beyond the door, perhaps even catch glimpses of a bloody mess that vaguely resembled a once beautiful young woman. But the doctor would smile and lock the door, cheerfully returning to his office. 

End

[talkingfilmsnet]

Poor Things: A Stitch in Time Saves the Patriarchy (Or Does It?)

Victorian London. Bodysnatchers. A woman pieced together from stolen flesh. Sounds like your everyday gothic horror, right? Well, buckle up, dear readers, because Yorgos Lanthimos' "Poor Things" is anything but ordinary. This film is a scalpel-sharp satire, a Frankensteinian funhouse mirror reflecting the grotesqueness of the patriarchy – with a wickedly funny bone tucked right under its stitched-together ribs.

Bella Baxter, our stitched-up protagonist, is more than just a medical marvel. She's a walking, talking, anatomically-unconventional middle finger to Victorian beauty standards and societal expectations. Reborn from the depths of the Thames by the eccentric Dr. Godwin, Bella embodies the Frankensteinian anxieties around female bodies and scientific ambition. But unlike her monster-movie predecessors, Bella refuses to be a silent victim. She's witty, fiercely independent, and armed with a wicked sense of humor that leaves a trail of spilled tea and shattered patriarchy in her wake.

The film revels in its grotesqueness, yes. Dr. Godwin's experiments are hilariously macabre, and Bella's patchwork anatomy provides ample opportunities for dark humor. A misplaced arm becomes a projectile in a drawing-room battle, and a detached breast transforms into a scandalous party trick. But the brilliance lies in how this absurdity isn't just for laughs. It's a deliberate subversion of Victorian anxieties about the female body, forcing us to confront the ridiculousness of judging a woman by the sum of her parts.

Yet, "Poor Things" isn't simply a laugh riot. Beneath the humor lies a biting satire of Victorian class and gender dynamics. Dr. Godwin, with his god complex and obsession with female flesh, becomes a caricature of patriarchal scientific ambition. Bella, on the other hand, exposes the hypocrisy and double standards woven into the fabric of Victorian society. Her stitched-together body becomes a living metaphor for the fragmented realities women face, a constant reminder of the pressures to conform and the expectations placed upon their bodies.

The film's humor shines as it dismantles these societal constructs. A brothel scene transforms into a feminist manifesto, with Bella leading a chorus of "whores" in a raucous song about reclaiming their bodies and narratives. A conversation about artificial wombs explodes the myth of "ideal" motherhood, exposing the anxieties and power dynamics underpinning the female reproductive experience.

But despite its darkly comic heart, "poor things review" doesn't shy away from the darkness. Bella's journey is one of grappling with her own fragmented existence, searching for acceptance in a world that fears and ostracizes her. She confronts mortality, loss, and the ethical quandaries surrounding scientific exploration. And ultimately, the film asks a crucial question: does the "stitching up" of Bella, the creation of the perfect woman, actually serve to reinforce the patriarchy, or does it hold the potential for something more radical?

So, does a stitch in time really save the patriarchy? Does Dr. Godwin's creation simply perpetuate the objectification of women? Or does Bella, with her stitched-together spirit and refusal to be defined by societal expectations, offer a glimpse of a different future, one where women reclaim their bodies and narratives? "Poor Things" doesn't provide easy answers, but it throws down the gauntlet, inviting us to grapple with these uncomfortable questions and laugh in the face of the grotesque.

Beyond the gore and giggles, "Poor Things" is a film that lingers. It challenges us to consider the ethical implications of scientific advancements, the absurdity of societal expectations, and the resilience of the human spirit, even when stitched together from disparate parts. It's a film that makes you laugh, squirm, think, and ultimately, question the very fabric of existence, one stitched-together layer at a time.

[blithefool]

[yandere-toons]

I am really love your blog so much! Do you think you can do devil from The cuphead show! Thanks!

Yandere Devil (Platonic & Romantic Headcanons)

Warnings: Death, Violence, Abduction, Mentions of Religious Concepts, Toxic Mindsets.

A.N. – In honour of All Hallows' Eve, I present the Devil himself.

Platonic:

To have a good time with the Devil, one must pull the lever while he pushes the button on causing worldwide destruction. He expects all his evil deeds to be praised and treated as spectacles of skill and charisma, not horrors to be criticised and bad-mouthed.

Snubbing him for his actions, which include scorching anyone who acts too friendly for his liking, will get dozens of demons turned to ash. Rejection makes his temper shorter and shorter until he is eating souls in plain view of others to frighten them into keeping their distance.

No one is safe from his flames when the Devil decides that he has had enough and explodes in a fit of rage. If they are not incinerated in the blast, all the people who have gotten in his way have their souls ripped from their bodies and cast into Hell.

Henchman gets an earful as the Devil rants about how useless and unreasonable everyone is. The Devil asks a rhetorical question about whether he should skip the niceties and go straight to the abduction stage, and Henchman, forever the supportive fellow, tells him to do what makes him happy.

Belonging to the land of the living means that many a deal is offered by the Devil to join him in Hell. Most revolve around landing a seat next to his throne and becoming a high-level demon in exchange for serving Hell in perpetuity, but there are a few that involve staying in the Inkwell Isles and running his casino.

Rejecting one of his deals leads to catastrophes everywhere. The Devil stews over this rebuff and orders his unholy legion of demons to pillage the world, an order that he agrees to rescind if his deal is then accepted. However, there is no guarantee that he will not continue the order later out of spite.

All of Hell hears his roars when there has been an argument between the Devil and the one who he forbade everyone from addressing. Demons know better than to get involved, but the souls of the living are not always so keen to turn a blind eye. Cuphead and Mugman have intervened and lured the Devil away more often than not.

Romantic:

The Devil would like a partner in crime more than anything else, someone who revels in the chaos as he does and laughs with him when famines sweep through the land. Anyone who stymies this fun together is incinerated on the spot.

Engaging in relations with someone besides him is strictly forbidden. This rule is in effect before he even makes his intentions clear, and if it is broken, the Devil will covet this illicit relationship and seek to make the other person one of the damned.

As soon as death comes and the soul leaves the body, the Devil appears in a ring of fire and snatches it. He makes an accommodating afterlife in Hell by his standards, although he views the situation as a belated victory and demands to know why none of his generous deals was accepted.

If Stickler appears with Hell's rulebook in his hand and deems the situation an unlawful seizure of a soul, the Devil rages against his words and prepares to incinerate him right then and there. No one is allowed to question this particular action lest they face the business end of his pitchfork.

Managing to escape back to the Inkwell Isles as a ghost is a herculean task that will require help. Henchman and King Dice are far too loyal to the Devil to consider helping, so the assistance comes in the form of Cuphead and Mugman's shenanigans.

One day, the Devil is preoccupied with hunting the pair or brooding in his chambers over the fact that they escaped his clutches yet again. The elevator to and from the land of the living is left unattended, and using it has never been easier.

Once the Devil realises what has happened, entire forests are washed away by waves of fire. Search parties are comprised of the nastiest fiends from Hell's bowels, surveillance portals are opened from one end of the Inkwell Isles to the other, and the Devil himself rises from the inferno to terrorize civilians into giving up information.

[smhalltheurlsaretaken]

Sorry but what exactly is up with the bad batch arc? I've heard people talk about the issues with echo's white skin but I haven't heard that many bad things about the arc itself? (ik you said you don't want to be negative on your blog so I would absolutely understand if you didn't answer this ask)

Oooooooooooh boy. Well I just had a long, long, LONG rant about it with someone, but I guess I’ve got an excuse to put all of my points onto a post and talk about it publicly now that I got an ask x) I’ll keep it under the cut so I don’t throw my salt in people’s face. I really don’t want to upset people who love that arc - it has redeeming qualities, but overall it pisses me off so much for so many reasons. So here:

The first issue is obviously two members of the Bad Batch (minus Echo) being being just about the furthest thing from maori no matter how much you're willing to stretch it. 

Like... yeah, nah. I wouldn’t even accept Crosshair and Tech (grey haired guy and goggles guy) as Jango’s natural biological sons, nevermind as his clones. 

The problem is that their different appearances are justified by them being described simply as clones with desirable mutations (i.e superpowers). But why the hell did the creators have to change their appearances for that to be a thing? How does that correlate? Sure, the concept of clones with different faces is interesting, except... no, no it’s not, and I’m gonna rant about it in a few secs. But basically it's like they thought giving them different faces would be a good substitute for having different personalities (another thing I’ll come back to). If they really wanted to have buff clones with super eyesight or whatnot they could have just done that, without making them lose what little melanin the lighting of the show had allowed the other Clones to keep. 

But the gigantic problem is... showing that the "regular" clones have VERY distinct identities despite their identical faces has been one of the themes of the show from episode 1. Literally, the first episode of TCW has Yoda taking time out of a mission with galactic stakes to tell the three clones he’s with (who tell him they’re all the same because they have the same faces) that they’re wrong, and that they’re very different in the Force, that their appearance doesn’t matter, that they’re all equally unique and important, and he lists all of their individual skills, strengths and weaknesses. 

And it’s not just me being bothered by that, here’s a post by @cacodaemonia​ saying the same thing. 

Introducing the Bad Batch as "unique" clones who are "different" and "not like their brothers" because they have different faces and skills completely breaks that theme of the show!! Because the entire point of the Clones in TCW is that their faces don't matter, they ARE unique! 

(Plus the Bad Batch’s character designs are so cliche and uninspired it’s just laughable to try and justify bleaching their freaking skin for the sake of visual diversity. 

This took like 10 seconds. I found the first guy by literally googling “soldier movies,” and the other two are Team Fortress characters that look a LOT like Wrecker and Crosshair. One is “Heavy” and one is “Sniper” lmao.

And behold:

The above picture is a Team Fortress reference that I found just by looking up “bad batch clone wars,” so I’m not the only person who sees it.) 

And the batchers don't even have personalities to justify calling them unique! They have no character traits beyond the most cliché american soldier tropes ever. We have a token loner sniper, a token "smart tech guy" who knows everything from xenoanthropology to biology to Separatist computers to sound waves to encryption, a token Badass Brooding Leader and a token “dumb muscle guy.”

I dare anyone to find more about their personalities than this: - Crosshair is the perpetually grumpy sniper who looks down on "regs,” - Wrecker likes to blow up stuff and doesn't like heights, - Hunter is the leader and is friends with Cody, - Tech is smart doesn't trust Echo. 

That’s it, that’s literally it. Four episodes about them and that's all we get. These character tropes are literally the least inventive ever. FFS, Hunter even has a freaking KNIFE! Not a vibroblade, mind you, like in kriffing Star Wars. A knife. Against metal droids. Why. They couldn’t make this more of an american-war-movies cliché fest if they tried. (And sure, he can feel electromagnetic waves so maybe it does make sense for him not to carry a vibroblade and maybe this is nitpicking, but he looks like a ripoff of a Predator character and it pisses me off).

Another thing is that when you introduce characters you have to make them likable - and them despising the normal Clones is a terrible way to do that! And they don't even grow from that because at the end of the 4 episodes arc they just see Rex as not bad "for a reg" and they see Echo as no longer a reg, and both of these things are infuriating! 

The worst thing imo is that Echo then becomes part of them (and irreparably loses his melanin in the process, uuuuuuuuugh) when there is nothing to justify this. 

The dialogue goes like this: 

ECHO: You coming? TECH: Not really our thing. CROSSHAIR: Accolades. WRECKER: Yeah, we're just in it for the thrill. Yo! HUNTER: You sure it's your thing? ECHO: What do you mean? HUNTER: Your path is different. Like ours. If you ever feel like you don't fit in with them, well, find us. (they leave) REX: Those are some of the finest troopers I've ever fought alongside. Echo. You and I go way back. If that's where you feel your place is, then that's where you belong.

Echo doesn't feel like he belongs anymore, okay, but why would he feel like he belongs with the assholes who up to the last five minutes of the mission thought he was probably a traitor, and also verbally expressed that he was not worth saving?? In all of the arc, Echo himself never voices that he feels he’s not ‘like the other Clones’ anymore and that he feels it’s a problem. His relationship with Rex immediately picks up where they left things off - the first thing he does upon being lucid again for the first in over a year is cracking a joke for Rex’s benefit. 

Why would Echo feel like he doesn’t belong in the 501st anymore, when we don't even see him interacting with anyone from his past life except for Rex and Anakin (who are both extremely very supportive of him)?? If there had been one scene of a “regular” Clone (ugh) looking at him with horror and disgust or something, or just Kix and Jesse cracking jokes with Echo awkwardly standing by the side not getting it, I could forgive the show trying to make it feel like he has an identity crisis, but this was so shallow!

The only thing that makes Echo and the Bad Batch’s experiences similar is that they *look* different. It’s so against the themes of the Clones I’m seething just from thinking about it. And what the hell? Echo ALREADY didn’t fit in. That was the WHOLE POINT of Domino Squad. They didn’t fit in because they thought they were better than anyone else because they had trouble getting along with their brothers, so obviously it had to be their brothers’ fault (ahem, Bad Batch?). And you know what happened? Domino Squad OVERCAME that. And Echo and Fives still didn’t “fit in” because their personalities were unique and creative, and they became ARC Troopers because Cody, Rex and the Jedi VALUED THEM FOR PRECISELY THAT. Echo having new and unique skills and a modified appearance is the most bs justification for him feeling like he doesn’t belong!! 

And that brings me to my biggest issue: Rex telling Echo the bad batch are some of the best troopers he's ever met. I'm sorry, based on WHAT? What Rex values above everything is loyalty and brotherhood, and the Bad Batch DOESN'T DISPLAY ANY OF THAT. We never see them even expressing concern for each other! Wrecker treats saving Cody’s life like a trivial issue, because it’s just ‘sO eAsY’ for him, and beyond that we never see them supporting each other or genuinely expressing affection for each other beyond boasting about each other’s skills... 

Sure they can destroy a lot of droids, but they're dismissive of Rex's brothers, and the entire Umbara arc and this arc showed what he thought of that. They keep saying things like "not bad for a reg,” don't show any trust in Rex's skills or experience (even though they can't have been fighting in the war for more than a year and a half when he’s been there from the beginning, and he outranks all of them), they are essentially guerilla fighters which has only minimal value in a galactic war, and they never grow beyond their views of what regs are, and can and can’t do. 

None of that should make them good troopers in Rex's book. Going back to Echo not fitting in, remember who taught the Domino Squad the importance of seeing all of your brothers as important and equally valuable? Shaak Ti, true, but more importantly? 99! The guy the Bad Batch are named after. He did have value and was important and was no less of a trooper than his brothers, even though his mutations made him LESS powerful, not more. (And btw, just from a writing standpoint, the batchers don’t have any weaknesses, which is shit.) Cody and Rex mourned 99 as a true soldier even though it wasn’t his sacrifice that brought them victory (which would have implied that he had value as a soldier and a brother because he saved them, as opposed to him having that value intrinsically), because that’s what a fine trooper is to them. A BROTHER first a foremost, someone altruistic, brave and loyal. The Bad Batch distort the meaning of 99's character with their behavior. They’re not altruistic, their bravery is mitigated by the fact that they’re freaking invincible, so of course they take risks (again, see Wrecker saving Cody without a care because it’s easy to him, as opposed to Rex being ready to run into a burning ship about to explode because his brother is in there, and having to be physically dragged away). The Bad Batch denigrate their brothers for being less skilled, thinking their own abilities make them unique somehow, when 99 could barely fight and was still the one who taught Hevy about being a good soldier. 

And again the batchers don't grow from that. Which is all the more frustrating because the original ending didn’t have Echo joining them, from what I remember of the unfinished episodes, and the arc actually ended with them receiving their medals in front of regular troopers who cheer for them, as opposed to them smugly ostracizing themselves and dismissing the ceremony as trivial and meaningless. (original ending vs s7 ending: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ab1eCfzKamw) 

It’s so annoying. Do you know what characters never had an entire arc dedicated to them and still have far more personality and more interesting designs and more symbolic weight?? 

Jesse, for starters. Kix. Dogma. Cut. Slick. Keeli. Ponds. Rys, Jek and Thire. Commander Doom. Commander Fox. Wolffe. Hevy. Hardcase. 

Cody was a more interesting character just in his RotS appearances. 

Waxer and Boil had one episode about them and then only two cameos plus Waxer’s death, and they’re still some of the most memorable, beloved Clones of the whole show. And Boil was grouchy and prejudiced like Crosshair, but he has so much growth that we could make a whole thread about it. 

I'd say the last problem with the Bad Batch is that it has cash grabbing money hungry vibes. Different faces are more marketable, cliché personalities are more toy-friendly, and it's basically a big ad for the Bad Batch series. And they throw Echo in the Batch at the end for bs reasons (again, it wasn’t in the original ep from what I remember) and they tease Cody in the show to make sure fans will still watch even if they notice the lack of soul. And less melanin sells more at Disney apparently. 

So that’s my whole pissed rant. 

[callmebyyournamephoto]

Bones And All reviews - spoilers free

“The chemistry between Chalamet and Russell is off the charts. Their love is desperate, passionate, true, confused and confounded, perpetually crushing under the ethical crisis they face in killing innocent people to survive, not to mention the fact that they feel very differently about it. But through all of this clashing they conjure a sense of impenetrable connection, the kind that renders explosive conflict a mere hurdle opposed to a threat to the relationship. However, there are threats to the relationship. They’re just freaky people.”

- The Film Stage Venice Review: Bones and All is a Bloody Horror Romance That Rips Your Heart Out

“As the two still-growing, still-uncertain eaters, Taylor Russell and Timothée Chalamet play affecting star-crossed lovers in a grand tradition that harks back to “They Live by Night” and “Badlands.” And thanks to some grisly simulations and highly creepy turns from Mark Rylance, Michael Stuhlbarg, David Gordon Green and Chloe Sevigny, the movie does work as an actual and proper horror film. Recommended.”

-  Roger Ebert Venice Film Festival 2022 review: Bones and All

“Maren (Taylor Russell) and Lee (Timothée Chalamet) were destined to meet. It was written in the map of their fate dirty with eaten bodies, and weighed down by a nature they have not chosen, but which they must learn to accept and share. An inner process in which both of them are in two different phases of their own completion. Lee knows the rules of the game, and follows them by heart, while ... he is only at the beginning of reading the terms and conditions that his nature requires to comply with. A divergent vision, which is found in a psychological and aesthetic duality of the two characters that elevates them to the perfect half of the same apple, an aspiration to a complementarity of Ying and Yang both chromatic and in acting. Russell's Maren is calm and minimal, while Timothée Chalamet's Lee is wilder and more elegantly Mephistophelic. Between the two young people there is an intriguing contrast that makes them as different as they are equal, and which they live in want to underline. Dressed in floral themes, the colors that dress them and those who detach them from the background of a deserted America, live in complementarity: his shirt is red, in perfect contrast with the blue of her dress, so as to diversify them and then let them explode in a fatal union once the two bodies come together and the breaths intertwine.”

- Cinema.everyeye.it Bones and All Recensione: Guadagnino e Chalamet sorprendono a Venezia 79

  “Russell, a revelation in Trey Edward Shults’s under-seen Gen-Z melodrama Waves, is career-makingly good here, while Chalamet’s tender, tousled allure and razor-edge of raw danger powerfully recall the late River Phoenix: his Lee is a hustler to the core, always calculating where his next meal is coming from, and who he’ll have to sink his teeth into in order to get it.

- The Telegraph: Bones and All, review: a Gen Z cannibal romance? Delicious!

“ Maren is to fall in love with a wiry, fragile, beautiful runaway called Lee, played by Timothée Chalamet in his delicate, cheekbones-and-all style. Bones And All is an extravagant and outrageous movie: scary, nasty and startling in its warped romantic idealism.”

- The Guardian: Bones and All review – cannibal romance is a heartbreaking banquet of brilliance

 “Bones and All is fastidiously romantic. It's so carefully made, and so lovely to look at, even at its grisliest, that it ends up seeming a little remote, rather than a movie that draws you close. Still, its actors give you something to watch every minute. Chalamet is just about everybody’s darling these days, and in Bones and All, he doesn’t disappoint. His scruffiness is the elfin kind, and he surveys the world from heavy-lidded, appraising eyes.”

- Time: Venice Review -  Timothée Chalamet Charms in Cannibal Romance Bones and All—But Taylor Russell's Unforgettable

 “Guadagnino has made a kind of emo horror movie. He’s far less interested in the shock factor than the poignant isolation of his young principal characters and the life raft they come to represent to one another as they slowly let down their guard. Those aspects are played with minimal overt displays by Russell and Chalamet but with a steady swell of subcutaneous feeling — of emotional transparency as the characters open up to each other about the traumas of their pasts and the chemistry between the two actors deepens, apparent in their lovely body language together. Everything they do is easy, unforced, underplayed to subtly stirring effect, and the filmmakers’ unstinting empathy for Maren and Lee is contagious“

 - The Hollywood Reporter ‘Bones and All’ Review: Taylor Russell and Timothée Chalamet in Luca Guadagnino’s Tender Cannibal Romance

[littleststarfighter]

Chamber and Skin.

Trying to get a more comic book feel on my art. Was messing about designing new costumes too. Love drawing Jono’s ‘perpetually exploding horror face’. Only Ange would light a cig near a radiation symbol.

[piratewithvigor]

Eldritch Horrors Anonymous: A Wrestler Fic

Dr. Shelby's led plenty of support groups before and helped plenty of people in them. But these people aren't exactly people...

(I spent the last two days binging matches and assorted other videos to try and get the characterizations right, so let's see how this goes)

Plenty of bad crack below

When Dr. Shelby had been approached with the idea of running this group, he’d been… unsure. Possibly even apprehensive. He’d led groups for violent individuals before; anger management was the most memorable, but the coordinator nearly begged him to start this one. She’d had some of these individuals in other groups, but none of their problems truly seemed to stem from the focus of the groups they tried. They had a unique problem. A unique struggle that needed support from others just like them.

It was the night of the first meeting and he wasn’t quite sure what the outcome might be. The community center had been advertising it for the last few weeks and he’d heard about some interested parties, but the exact number was a little unsure. He’d been told a ‘handful’, which wasn’t frustrating as an imprecise number until it came time to set up the chairs in the room. Six seemed like a good number. A couple, but not too many. Colder drinks were set out on a table along the edge of the room. Nothing too hot. A lot of those coming had problems with heat. As well as with machinery. Some of them had habits with… well, with making it explode.

God, he hoped nothing exploded during this meeting.

The flyer stapled to the bulletin board said the meeting started at 6 and it was 5:55 when Dr. Shelby sat down in his chair opposite the semi-circle. The noticeably empty semi-circle. A part of him was disheartened that the room was empty, but a much more selfish part was deeply relieved. He’d spent a few days reading articles about these individuals and how best to help them. Unfortunately, not much research had been done besides describing the pain they inflicted in such gruesome detail that Dr. Shelby had felt the need to make himself a cup of tea.

But those were laboratory settings. This was a friendly support group. No one was being forced to be there, or even being paid. They were coming because they wanted to.

By 6:03, he was tempted to just start packing up. Maybe no one was coming. Maybe the group was a bad idea in the first place. He’d been told to wait until 6:05 for people to arrive, but even just two more minutes seemed like too many to just sit there.

He was shaken from his thoughts by the large metal door on the other side of the room creaking open slowly. A hand gloved in black leather wrapped around and Dr. Shelby tensed for a moment until the owner of the hand appeared. A pleasantly-dressed gentleman in a neat sweater, a short beard and his hair pulled back looked around the room before spotting Dr. Shelby and seeming to relax.

“Excuse me, is this Eldritch Horrors Anonymous?” He asked, smiling warmly.

“Uh, it’s supposed to be,” Dr. Shelby nodded. If anyone had shown up, he wanted to add, but bit his tongue back.

The man’s smile widened and he turned back from the room to call over his shoulder. “Found it, guys! We’re supposed to be in here!”

Guys? There were more?

Maybe the night wouldn’t be such a bust after all.

The man stepped inside the room and pulled open the door politely. Dr. Shelby couldn’t see the people until they entered, but it didn’t truly matter; no amount of time could have prepared him for the group joining him.

The first one to nearly skip through the door looked like a child at first glance. Definitely not an eldritch horror. She wasn’t much taller than one and with her long blonde hair pulled into pigtails and a doll clutched to her chest, she looked even more like one. She paused long enough to thank the man holding open the door before taking a seat in the middle chair of the semi-circle, directly across from Dr. Shelby. It wasn’t until she was fully seated that he got a proper look at her face. Her strikingly icy eyes were surrounded by thick black rings and every time the hairs in front of her face moved, Dr. Shelby swore he saw black liquid dripping from her scalp. The chill that went down his spine was either negated or enhanced by her wide, jubilant grin. He wasn’t sure which.

The man who sat beside her also seemed confusingly normal at first glance. A plain black t-shirt and leather jacket. Perhaps a little more… edgy than Dr. Shelby would have preferred to dress, but he seemed like an equally charming young man.

Unfortunately, a pattern of three seemingly normal people did not necessarily mean the group would be.

The next one to enter the room had to quite literally duck to pass through the door. Dr. Shelby guessed him to be seven feet tall, give or take a few inches. He was wearing a black suit that covered most of his body, save for his face, which had its own covering of a deep red mask. He didn’t smile like the others had so far. Not even a polite half-smile of acknowledgment. Just sat down in one of the chairs that looked like it might prove to be a little too small.

Dr. Shelby had been so focused on keeping his expression steady while watching the masked member of the group that he hadn’t noticed one final member sneak in through the door and sit on the other side of the circle. He had an oversized alarm clock clutched in one hand, a paper bag in the other and a steady, intense smile in Dr. Shelby’s direction. Though his face was just as covered in red, he seemed to be the exact opposite of the stoic masked member.

“I think that’s everyone,” the man holding the door declared, taking one last glance down the hall before starting to let it go. He was intercepted by a gloved hand pushing back against the door.

“I’m so sorry I’m late.” A final member slid in, face covered in white and black paint and a long leather coat stretching to his ankles. “All the hallways here look the same.”

“We had that problem too,” the man holding open the door nodded. “Kept walking around in circles trying to find the room. And it didn’t get much easier after the flyer got a hole burnt through it right where the room number was listed.”

“I said I was sorry,” the masked member grumbled.

Oh God, he burnt things unintentionally?

“Don’t worry about it, you’re all on time,” Dr. Shelby interjected, hoping to avoid any conflict between the members before the meeting had even technically started.

The final two men took their seats. Six? Not a bad turnout. Might as well get started.

“Welcome everyone, my name is Dr. Shelby.” A collection of polite nods came his way. “Now, you’re all here because you face the same struggle every day and you wanted to meet people like you. Am I right so far?” Everyone nodded again. “Good. I’ve led a lot of support groups just like these and almost everyone in them has felt major improvements knowing that they have a safe place to share their feelings every week. Why don’t we go around the circle and introduce ourselves and share what brings us here?”

It was always a risky move. Especially with brand-new groups. Some of them were bound to be a little more shy or wouldn’t really want to participate until they felt more comfortable with the other members. Dr. Shelby hoped there would at least be one outgoing one amongst them.

Dr. Shelby knew he wasn’t masking his fear very well. He’d perfected the perpetual smile; it was necessary when leading support groups, but he couldn’t always control his eyes.

The group all looked amongst themselves before the man in the sweater held up his hand.

“I can get the ball rolling,” he smiled, standing up. “My name is Bray and for the last few months, my body gets periodically taken over by my dark half named The Fiend, an entity whose sole objective is to cause as much pain and suffering to those around him as physically possible.”

“Thank you, Bray,” he tried to say with as even a voice as possible. “Who’s next?”

“I’ll go,” the girl smiled, standing up with a flounce. “My name’s Alexa and this is Lilly.” She spun the doll around to reveal the most grotesque face Dr. Shelby had ever seen. He wasn’t certain from across the circle, but it looked like the teeth sewn into the mouth were real. “The Fiend showed me the way into the darkness, and Lilly took it from there.”

This is normal for them. It’s not going to help anyone here if you start looking like you’re scared.

But darn, is that doll ever creepy.

The man with the red face paint stood up next.

“I’m the Boogeyman!” He grinned with wide eyes, looking around at each member of the circle erratically. It was only as he began to move around that Dr. Shelby noticed the paper bag he was clutching seemed to be dripping some kind of dark liquid.

“Thank you for introducing yourself… Boogeyman. If it’s not too personal, do you mind if I ask what’s in your bag there?”

“Worms.”

“Worms?”

Boogeyman unrolled the bag and pulled out a handful of dirt-covered, very much alive earthworms before shoving said handful into his mouth. No one around the circle seemed all that disgusted. Like it was a regular Tuesday evening for them. Except for the man with the white face paint who seemed like he was as pale as a ghost underneath.

“I’ll, uh, that’s fine for this week, Boogeyman, but I’ll please ask you to leave your… worms at home next week. We’re not really supposed to have food in this room to keep it peanut-free,” Dr. Shelby explained, holding back the sick feeling knotting his stomach. “But if anyone is thirsty, I’ve got bottles of water and juice boxes on the back table. Feel free to help yourselves.”

Boogeyman nodded and carefully put his worms back into his bag as he sat down. The man with the white face paint immediately raised his hand.

“Yes, your name is…”

“I think I might be in the wrong place.”

Dr. Shelby looked him over. He didn’t look eerily normal like Bray, and he didn’t seem to have brought a bag of worms as a snack. Looked like he fell somewhere in between.

“You seem like you’re in the right place. This is Eldritch Horrors Anonymous; I don’t know where else you’d be tonight.”

The man’s expression changed from nerves to sheepish understanding. “I thought this was Troubled Goths Anonymous. I couldn’t find the flyer and followed Boogeyman in. My mistake.”

Dr. Shelby nodded understandingly. “Right room, wrong day. Troubled Goths Anonymous is Monday nights.”

The man stood to leave with his hands up apologetically. “It was great to meet you all, but I don’t belong here. Best of luck to you… eldritch horrors.”

“Oh, be careful when you come back on Monday. That’s also when they host Troubled Punks Anonymous. Very similar groups, but people seem to have very strong preferences of one over the other.”

The man nodded and left the room as Dr. Shelby turned back to the remaining members. “Some of you came here from those groups, right?”

“Troubled Punks Anonymous kicked me out a few days ago,” Bray sighed, his perpetual smile dropping for a moment. Everyone murmured their sympathy and Alexa patted him on the knee. “It’s alright, though," he continued. "You all seem like a much better fit so far.”

“That’s the point of this group,” Dr. Shelby smiled. “Now who’s next?”

The man in the leather jacket looked towards the man in the mask before shrugging and standing.

“M’name’s Finn. Sometimes the rage o’ battle brings out the Demon King Bálor from within me ‘n with the openin’ o’ his great eye, enemies are laid to waste a’ his feet,” he explained, about as casually as one would talk about what they did over the weekend.

“Glad to have you here, Finn.” It was getting easier to digest the stories of the people around him as he heard more. Maybe he’d even be able to hear the last one without faking the comfort of his smile. “And last, but certainly not least…” He turned towards the masked man expectedly. There was no smile, polite or otherwise. But he also didn’t seem like he was hesitating because he was shy. Just… grumpy.

“You don’t have to introduce yourself if you don’t feel comfortable, but we’re still a small group and as far as I can tell, all very friendly,” Dr. Shelby pushed a little further. The other members nodded in agreement. Even Boogeyman, who had snuck another worm from his bag into his mouth.

“Fine,” he grumbled, standing up. “I’m Kane. I’m the devil’s favorite demon. I grew up in a basement, suffering severe psychological and emotional scarring when my brother set my parents on fire. From there, I shifted around a series of mental institutions until I was grown, at which point I buried my brother alive... twice. Since then, I’ve set a couple of people on fire and abducted various co-workers. Oh, and I once electrocuted a man’s testicles. Years ago, I had a girlfriend named Katie, but let’s just say that didn’t turn out so well. My real father is a man named Paul Bearer who I recently trapped in a meat locker. I’ve been married, divorced, broke up my ex wife’s wedding and attacked the priest and for reasons never quite explained, I have an unhealthy obsession with torturing Pete Rose.”

Okay, maybe they can get weirder.

“Thank you… Kane.” He paused a moment before remembering back to the list that he’d been given a few days before. “That name sounds familiar; I think I was told to expect you, but they said you might be coming with your brother.”

“Probably won’t happen.”

“Why not? Is he not an eldritch horror?”

“He is. He just won’t come. Has better things to do.”

“Like what?”

“He said ‘watching paint dry’.”

“Maybe when you see him again, you can tell him we’re more fun than watching paint dry,” Alexa suggested, bouncing Lilly on her lap.

“That’s right. And that goes for all of you,” Dr. Shelby mentioned. “If anyone knows someone who might need a support group like this, go ahead and invite them. This isn’t Fight Club; it doesn’t have to be secret.”

The group chuckled a little at his attempt at a joke. Even Kane cracked a small smile.

Dr. Shelby relaxed a little in his seat. These people might dress strangely and have bizarre interests, diets and backstories, but deep down, they were just like anyone else. Maybe he could help them after all.

[btsinwonderland]

A Drop of Poison - Ch. 12: Detention

A Loki fanfiction!

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“That is not where the garlands go!”

You jumped when Professor Sif’s shrill voice came from right behind you. Your hand faltered and the thirty foot long flower garland you had been levitating towards the wall fell. A few petals came off during impact and you could feel the frigid cold of Sif’s stare on the back of your neck.

Two weeks had passed painfully slowly and quite uneventfully as you spent all your spare time assisting Professor Sif. You had expected it only to be one week, but the damn woman had specifically requested your help and even had you run her errands. You picked up her clothes from the service floor, got her mail, and even on one occasion, had to deliver food from the Great Hall to her office since she was working late! Overall, it was not the worst you had been treated, though Professor Sif always seemed perpetually annoyed at everyone and everything. At least it was not personal...you hoped.

Headmistress Frigga had announced that the Halloween Ball would move forward in full swing to celebrate the return of Ken and provide some levity prior to midterm examinations. The true horror was in fact right after Halloween, you thought, dreading your exams.

Your classes had been quite peaceful. Finally, you could get some studying done. It was a strange adjustment after everything that happened. Though...had it upset you that Professor Laufeyson had not bothered to speak with you much. You found there was no reason to go see him, now that he apparently had been committed to assigning the most complicated potions during classes. A part of you wondered if it was a ruse to fool you, but you had no time to concentrate on what he could possibly have planned, since you were nearly one wrong ingredient away from blowing up your cauldron.

The memory of kissing him remained in the back of your mind. It made you tense all over again. His lips were unbearably soft and you could not but imagine how soft they would feel elsewhere on your skin. You had fallen asleep with unreserved thoughts of your professor, though your dreams never lingered there.

Since your encounter with Fenris, all your dreams were of blood, teeth, and death. Not even the fondest memory of Professor Laufeyson could change that. You yawned and the banner you were adjusting inched down along the wall.

“Eves, if you can’t straighten that banner, then what am I using you for?” Professor Sif said.

“Free labour,” you mumbled under your breath.

Professor Sif glared at you and returned to her task. She was decorating with several balloon garlands of black and silver. The balloons were the gag for this year and were meant to explode at the end of the ball, setting free tiny little pumpkins to run around nip at everyone’s ankles.

From the doors out of the Great Hall, you glimpsed a window which was completely black. You had not realized that your entire evening had dissolved away and it was already much past sunset. In fact, you barely remembered having dinner or what you did the entire day. Upon settling the banner, you sighed and wondered how busy you had been to completely forget the contents of your days. You could not even remember the last time you and Valkyrie were able to have a fun night.

A brown owl flew into the room and dropped a note on Professor Sif’s head, to which she nearly growled. The owl quickly flapped away with a screech. She opened and read the note, casting you a stern look. “You are free to leave your duties early, Eves,” she said in a light voice. It was the kind of voice that made it seem like you were receiving some big break, when in fact, today was the last day of helping Professor Sif, and you only had a couple of hours left.

“Are you sure?” You said, trying to suppress the annoyance in your tone.

“Oh yes, you are free from my keep. However, your detention begins now.” Professor Sif smiled at you. “You are to go to the Potions classroom promptly, and begin assisting Professor Laufeyson.”

Your stomach immediately clenched. Professor Sif saw the panic on your face and smiled wider. The woman truly loved punishing students. Though what she did not know was why you truly feared your detention with Professor Laufeyson.

As you thanked Professor Sif and headed out of the Great Hall, she said, “you may want to bring earmuffs, as I believe he is borrowing some of Professor Hogun’s mandrakes.” She laughed and returned to her decorating. You rolled your eyes and continued on your way.

***

Your heart thudded loudly in your chest as you walked through the dimly lit halls, earmuffs in your bag. The path to the tower was becoming dangerously familiar to you and you found yourself being pulled towards it as if something - or someone - beckoned you.

Regardless, as it was your first night of detention, fear coated every one of your steps. Your stomach tightened in knots as you wondered what sort of punishments Professor Laufeyson would dole out.

The more troublesome parts of your mind played out some very…interesting scenarios which made heat rush to your cheeks. Cannot think those thoughts! He’ll know. He always knew what was on your mind, somehow. Though, you felt you had started to develop an idea of his expressions and what he felt sometimes. He had a tendency to smile when he was upset, which differed from his cruel smile, which was even different from his taunting smile. It made you appreciate the sight of his content smile, which he had thrown your way a few times.

Your thoughts poofed away as the familiar wooden doors of the potions classroom opened for you and you hesitantly approached. The room was lit with candles and torchlights on the walls, and Professor Laufeyson stood at his desk, shirt rolled up to his elbows and an unreadable expression on his face.

“Good evening Miss Eves.”

You gulped and walked towards him. A part of you wondered if he could hear your heartbeat. It felt like it thudded so loudly that the room would vibrate. “G-good evening, professor.”

He raked a gaze over you, seemingly uninterested. “I trust Sif kept you busy these last couple of weeks?”

You nodded, unable to find your voice again.

He smiled at you. It was a mixture of his foreboding and taunting smile. “Well, now you may look forward to assisting me. And be sure, Miss Eves, I have very high expectations.” He moved towards you until you had to crane your neck to look up at him. “You can never be late, I expect the utmost punctuality.”

You nodded as the scent of his clothes invaded your space.

“You shall do exactly as I say, no questions asked.”

You continued to nod as he moved closer and placed his hands on the desk behind you. His lips were so close to your face that you could not help but glance at them.

He smirked slightly and leaned back, giving you space to breathe. “And, you will call me Master when we are alone.”

You looked up at him, impossibly confused. “What?”

“Miss Eves, I am going to give you a choice.” He stepped away from you and raised his hands in the air. “There are two possibilities for detention with me. Number one, you do everything I say and call me master. With this option, I do warn you that things may get very...amusing,” he paused and grinned at you mischievously. “Number two, you will come to receive your detention alone, and I will leave my notes on that desk for your duties. You may leave once they are done and that will be that.” He gazed down at you, eyes glinting.

The man was giving you a choice. You realized that this was your opportunity to do what was right and maintain some level of propriety in your student life. A part of you wondered if he knew that you were turning eighteen in the coming months. There was a part of you that knew this was wrong. You were so young and he was your professor. But the heat in his gaze pointed you in one direction, where option two felt faraway and lukewarm.

“Choose wisely, Miss Eves,” Professor Laufeyson said, crossing his arms. “There is no going back.”

You stepped towards him. “I was told to stay away from you,” you said, taking another step. “I was told that you’re dangerous.”

He seemed to glow at your words and smile grew wider. You felt dizzy, but you stopped inches away from him in some surprisingly stupid bravado.

“Option one.”

He raised a brow, as if impressed by your courage. Then said, “option one, what?”

Your breath hitched as you realized what he wanted. “Option one, master.”

His lips twitched at the word ‘master’ and he almost swayed towards you, but stopped himself. Professor Laufeyson stepped around his desk with a sigh and pushed his hair back, chuckling to himself. “Come, Miss Eves, we have a potion to brew. Did you bring earmuffs?”

The heat of being around him certainly was put on the back burner when you were brought into a room, sealed off by sound from the outside, and for good reason. As soon as he opened the door, you heard the screeching sound of baby mandrakes. Despite your earmuffs, the creatures screamed unbearably loud, and you helped Professor Laufeyson gather pieces of their roots. He held the root up for you as you snipped the ends. At one point, your hands touched, and you felt a jolt run through your skin. He met your eyes, and the mandrake screamed louder.

Your ears were ringing after Professor Laufeyson shut the door. He brought you to a backroom, where he created his own potions, you realized. It was filled with unending shelves of ingredients, trunks, boxes, and vials of liquids that glowed or were strangely powdery. In the middle, there was a medium-sized cauldron with a single bench that was long enough for perhaps one and a half person.

“You will help me assemble this potion. Though it is way beyond your curriculum, I am sure this will take you quite ahead for your N.E.W.T. examinations.” He rotated the bench so that the long part was perpendicular to the cauldron. He sat on the end, away from the cauldron, straddling the bench, and gestured for you to sit in front of him.

You swallowed and put your leg over the bench and sat down, straddling it just like him. His chest brushed against your back as the pleats of your skirt splayed over the wood. You adjusted for a moment and heard his breath catch when your bottom moved against his pelvis. Heat rushed to your cheeks...and other areas, as you felt the mass of his body so close to you.

Professor Laufeyson cleared his throat. “Now, Miss Eves, this potion requires careful concentration,” he said, as his arms moved around you and emitted that green glow. A vial of purple liquid floated over and emptied itself into the cauldron, and a wooden spoon levitated towards you.

You caught it and began mixing the contents of the cauldron as he put more ingredients in. “You’re doing wonderfully well,” he whispered in your ear. His lips brushed against your skin and you felt your core tighten.

“Master,” you said with a blush, “how do you do magic without a wand?”

He ran his fingers over your arms and you let go of the spoon. Your skin felt electric everywhere he touched you. He raised your hands and inched closer to you. His entire body was pressed against yours and he placed his hands in yours, palms out. You intertwined your fingers in his. As he moved his hands, the green aura emanated from them, and you felt the vibration of his magic between you. You gasped in wonder and he laughed.

“It is quite fantastic, isn’t it?” He said as his magic lifted a box of newt eyes and plopped them into the potion one by one. It returned on to the shelf and he moved the spoon to stir the brew with a thread of green magic. “It’s something I got from my father,” he said, his tone lowering.

He untwined his fingers from yours and put his hands to his sides, and you felt colder. There was an awkward silence as you turned back to look at him.

“This magic is yours entirely. We all receive our power from somewhere, but how we use it is the real magic. Yours is beautiful,” you said. The words slipped out of your mouth naturally.

His eyes widened in a surprisingly soft way, and you received a new smile. It was tender and soft. Though it disappeared quickly and he raised a brow at you. “Are you this forward with all your teachers, Miss Eves?”

You scoffed and turned back to the cauldron. “Absolutely not!” You tried thinking about the other professors in the way you saw Professor Laufeyson and gagged.

His tone darkened. “Good, because I was never one for sharing,” he said in a low voice. A pulse went through you at his words.

You felt like an elastic stretched to its limit. You could not take any more. “The ball is next week,” you said.

He let out a breath through his nose, a short laugh. “Yes, and?”

“Well...are you going?” You said, careful not to sound too interested.

Hands gripped your waist and spun you around so that you were now straddling the bench, but facing Professor Laufeyson. He was remarkably strong for someone so lean. Your knees touched, and he gripped your hands in front of you with a taunting smile. “Would you like me to ask you?”

You flushed and slipped away from his grip. “Of course not! Th-that would be highly inappropriate.”

He laughed at your reaction and then recovered when you glared at him. “All the professors are required to go, and I don’t mind the odd festivity. And what about you, Miss Eves? Are your spirits raised with the idea of getting dressed in expensive clothes and tiaras, dancing the night away with a handsome boy, and perhaps getting into a bit of trouble?” His tone was teasing and condescending, which made you frown.

“Hmph, not all of us can afford expensive gowns, Master. But I will enjoy getting ready with my friends and dancing the night away. And I’ve never turned down a bit of trouble, have I?” You said, with a raised brow.

He matched your expression, seemingly impressed. He smiled and licked his lips. Heat flashed through your body and all you wanted was to jump on him then and there. What was happening to you?

He got up from the bench and handed the wooden spoon to you from the cauldron; chunky green liquid dripped from the end. “Now, I want you to keep stirring this for another twenty minutes while I return the mandrakes to Hogun,” he said.

“Twenty minutes? Of hand stirring?” you said.

“Nothing beats mixing by hand, not even magic,” he said with a wink. “Though, if you’re a good girl, then perhaps you will be rewarded.”

“What happens if I’m a bad girl?” You blurted out and cursed yourself for the slip.

He raised his brows and then put a finger under your chin, grinning in challenge. “Then you’ll see my wrath.”

Your lips parted, and he looked at them, almost longingly, but moved away and out the door.

[sapphic-sasuke]

also idk if ive said this but looking for forgiveness is not a fix it. i change up certain things like sakura’s characterisation bc personally i feel like her character was v much badly done bc of kishi being a misogynist. like he tried to make her more important than what she initially was supposed to be and it fell flat. also bc i find genin sakura v frustrating, i don’t want to write that and if naruto n sasuke r training harder earlier on, sakura should too.

other than that, i give team 7 a stronger bond bc it’ll hurt more when they eventually separate. they’re more conscious of konoha’s corruption but their position makes them still easy to be absorbed by it. sakura has team 7 but also has her family that she is fighting for. naruto wants acknowledgement. so it’s like. them breaking out of that mindset won’t happen any time soon bc they’re 12 and impressionable. not to mention kakashi, while aware of konoha’s failings, never does anything about it. he tries to somewhat shield his students from the horrors they’ll face but he still perpetuates the cycle. he trains them harder for their chance of survival bc he knows they’ll be targets in the future but that’s it. he still tries to dissuade sasuke from revenge, even if when sasuke snaps in ch4 he backs off.

also ch6 where sakura is shocked that sasuke wants to kill his brother. like despite all they’ve been through together, there’s still a clear disconnect i try to show that’ll lead to later conflicts. naruto wants to change things earlier and is distrustful of the third hokage whereas sasuke is cynical and thinks he’s too idealistic—all sasuke currently wants is to kill itachi, not reform, although he’s very aware of konoha’s failings bc he’s a genocide victim. like, understand?

all of team 7 have different things they want in life. kakashi wants nothing, he’s a husk. naruto wants acknowledgement and transparency. sakura wants to be respected by her family and fellow shinobi bc of her own feelings of insecurity as a non-clan born shinobi. and sasuke’s goals are entirely outside of the structure of konoha. eventually, that conflict of interest will explode and pooof