#the worst! terrifying! uncanny as hell!

[rxttenfish]

thought: werewolves laugh, but they sound just human enough to make it one of the worst sounds out there. and it almost always comes in a group.

still just their laughs though.

[ohitslen]

Thinking and headcannoning the shit out of angry Stampede! Vash and how Wolfwood deals with that first thing in the morning because i think him getting angry about something and letting down some of his mask in those genuine moments of anger is super awesome

Before we continue I have not read the manga yet so if you read something incredibly obvious or redundant to your experience, well, haha or something OQNENW

This is a VERY LONG Vashwood ramble I have to put SOMEWHERE or I will explode, so feel free to join if you want.

Vash is an overall very expressive person right? very emotional too generally, but the thing is I like drawing people getting angry so that’s what you are getting from me.

And I also often think about the fact that it’s Wolfwood and Knives the ones that have seen him be like that (most often than not towards them).

Wolfwood specifically, I think that he WOULD get scared because when Vash is angry angry, he just seethes and looks like he is three seconds away from being love and peace to hate and war. These are probably the moments in where he carries the most resemblance to Knives, and to anybody that has experienced the man firsthand they know how scary that is because everyone and their moms knows that he does not hesitate to resort to murder if he is upset about something or if it’s inconvenient to him, so it is rightfully terrifying to even think of him getting mad.

Now take the same idea and apply it to Vash, he is so friendly and playful all the time and he gets kicked around all the time too, that it would be almost impossible to imagine him getting angry in a genuine way. That is UNTIL his ideals and morals are being countered or challenged by someone and THAT’S when people are gently reminded that oh yeah he can get mad too, and really fucking mad at that.

The peak of his anger doesn’t last for too long because he tries to level himself quickly, he is aware of how he can look when he gets like that, and it would be showing a little too much about how he is not very human in nature for what he is comfortable with. I think that when he gets mad his expression turns into something very vulnerably honest, to the point in where he unconsciously looks imposing and demanding, paired with his uncanny vibes it really is a treat and anyone at the other end of it would be other than also upset, quite scared. Like Wolfwood.

There is something very obviously other about Vash and he has the privilege of knowing just exactly why that is, and considering that his brother has a record for being a certain way when angry, knowing what he is does not soothe him at all. Then again, Wolfwood cares for him still and he is a stubborn guy himself, so even when most likely scared shitless, he would not move his ground, and the only thing that reassures him that things will be fine, is Vash’s pacific nature and also knowing that he cares deeply for him too, but that is a thing he would not think too much about other than the flash of thought that it is in the moment.

Vash is petty as hell too, he remains silent and gives the cold shoulder to the other person that was involved in the argument, and it is usually, once again, Wolfwood at the end of that stick. Wolfwood is a “mind your business and I mind mine” kind of guy considering he never asks things, but traveling with that idiot and having to be with him 24/7 and being given the silent treatment has to be uncomfortable at best incredibly annoying at worst. So even though he won’t change his opinion most of the times, he still insists on talking to him idly sometimes after they argue, something he would usually not do.

All Vash ever responds with are the necessary answers, at first shrugs or nods, then very short and to the point sentences, he eventually warms up to him again and they talk the way they usually do; and just like that things seems to be at bay for the time being until the next unavoidable argument comes by.

No matter how many times they argue, when things escalate and Vash begins to show his very honest anger, Wolfwood’s instincts would be screaming at him to stop it and to get away, because whatever Vash is feeling is reeking of a danger that no matter how enhanced he might be, he is NOT gonna make it through whatever will happen to him worse comes to worst. But when has he ever actually heard his instincts when it comes to dealing with Vash. So he always replies and stays.

He is somehow one of the very few (almost non existent) people who can deal with Vash when he is like that, one thing is getting mad at Vash and the other is him getting mad at you, and he has bite alright, he will say things that can come across as hurtful and very venomous when he starts to get more visceral, and yeah the whole predator kind of vibe he can give off is there too.

Maybe Wolfwood also knows how hurt Vash would feel if he retreats because of how scared he feels and that’s why he doesn’t back away. It would be reasonable if he did, hell he doesn’t owe him shit for all he knows and he would be in his whole right to run away scared if he wanted, but for one it would be too cowardly, and two Vash would be once again pushed away for being something not human, and that would be a scar he would carry for his whole life and Wolfwood does not want to be a part of that. So that’s another reason to the ever growing list of “why don’t I just let this be”.

There is an odd sense of comfort in seeing Vash get mad, knowing that the man knows his ground, that even he has lines he won’t allow anyone to cross, that he can allow himself to feel something genuine for once and not the fake little things he is always doing. It is the positive side Wolfwood tries to see in those situations and what he has to remind himself over and over again so he doesn’t flinch away. Good thing he has some practice in arguments thanks to his little siblings back at the orphanage, practice he refuses to let go and holds on to dear life because he needs any crumb of reason at those moments.

At some point when hands are involved, when a clench to the shirt and a push to the shoulder escalates to shoving the other to the ground and a punch to the gut, Wolfwood goes full survival mode because no one told him that Vash was THAT strong and THAT heavy and THAT intimidating. He could have guessed after having watched the man fight. He is capable and strong, he usually moves with a certain preciseness and care under the goofy display, he may twirl around and stumble when dodging, but he is dodging and also landing hits.

He knows that Vash is strong and that he is also incredibly careful. But that’s when he is in all his senses with a mostly cool head, so having him hovering over Wolfwood pressing him down rendering him to the ground while very obviously mad and trying to prove his point, he freezes before he can react and fight back.

Those are the times where Vash feels the most guilty after the fight from what Wolfwood can gather and wildly assume. If him not eating (again) for days or even refusing to acknowledge Wolfwood unless necessary is any sign. That behavior can last over a week which is a little too long for Wolfwood’s peace of mind. So he starts poking again because apparently arguing again is the only way to make the bastard answer more. And it usually works, some nudging here and there and putting lemon with salt to the wound seems to do the trick.

It entails more shouting and screaming at each others faces their flaws that they already know like a script, until things start to calm down when Wolfwood reassures him that he is tougher than he looks, and that no matter what he won’t just leave Vash in a ditch, and if they were going to travel together for the future to come they would have to learn how to sort things out. Something he knows neither of them will probably never learn, but it is what it is and that’s what he can resort to at the moment, and it does seem to satisfy Vash a little. So once they are done, and they go their separate ways, never too far from each other, Vash starts to nibble at his food and says or asks little things to Wolfwood, and just like that they are good to go again.

They are both aware that addressing out loud how fucking scary Vash can be at those raw moments of anger, would be like painting a line of ‘I am this and you are that so we shouldn’t be doing this’ that neither of them would actually want to have. So even when yeah it can be horribly scary and surprisingly intimidating to deal with Vash when he is angry, Wolfwood is willing to stay and fight with him if that’s what he wants, if that’s what he needs. Even if it’s starting to take a toll on him. He is getting used to it though so it will be fine.

Probably.

[whumpster-fire]

Possibly unpopular opinion but I think The Backrooms would be cooler if instead of the "noclip" stuff it was just a place that you could wander into by accident by going through the wrong door or taking a wrong turn in a hallway, but at first it looks like it's part of the normal building and most people's sense of space isn't good enough to immediately know it couldn't possibly fit into the floorplan that they only ever see part of anyway. And naturally when people figure out that they're in a place that shouldn't exist a good percentage of them will try to explore it.

I don't know, like "You were just minding your own business and randomly got teleported to an extradimensional labyrinth where you can only escape by getting astronomically lucky" doesn't really do it for me horror-wise because from the moment you accidentally fall through a sidewalk tile and find yourself in what looks like an office building it's obvious that you have no control or agency in what's happening to you. Which works for some kinds of horror but I think it underutilizes the false familiarity of "uncanny spaces": like you could get teleported into a Saw trap or literal fire-and-brimstone hell and it'd be functionally the same.

I think the true horror of a Backrooms-like space is in thinking you're safe and in control and then realizing you're not, and the slow buildup to that realization. It's a space that has weird vibes but it doesn't feel fundamentally unsafe, and it provokes your curiosity. It's a place you know you probably aren't supposed to be because there's no one else around in a space that seems like it ought to be occupied, but it still feels like somewhere that losing your way should only be a mild inconvenience: wasted time or getting kicked out by a security guard at worst, and it seems like you should be able to just walk out. And then you realize that your spatial awareness aren't as good as you thought they were and you thought you remembered the way out but you actually don't. And then you suppress the moment of panic and do the rational thing that anyone who's gotten lost in a building should do, which is follow the exit signs, and by the time you figure out that they're placed pretty much at random and don't actually lead anywhere, you've really not been paying attention to direction and now you can't even get back to where you were when you first realized you were lost. And I think "there's probably physical no way out" is scary, but knowing that an exit exists because that's how you entered, but now you might be unknowingly going farther away from it but you can't stay put because nobody knows you're here" is fucking terrifying.

Like basically the ideal form of the Backrooms for me is the horror of getting lost somewhere like a cave system or the Paris Catacombs, except you don't even know it's a cave system because it looks like a normal human-made space that it should not even be possible to get fatally lost in. A place that seems safe to explore, and is safe to explore until it isn't but you don't know you've gone too far until it's too late.

[blogof1000corpses]

Movie Review Master List

Hey Slasher Sisters!

As promised, here's the master list of every movie review I've done w/links. The reviews are placed in newest to oldest order and will be updated weekly.

If you're new here, hello, my name is Rachel. I've been obsessed with the horror genre as long as I can remember and feel very passionate about it surrounding my entire life. My blog focuses on a wide range of subgenres within the horror genre including, but not limited to, cult classics, modern horror, disturbing cinema, B-movies, and experimental horror. Really, Blog of 1,000 Corpses is just my love project and source of motivation to become even more widely versed within my favorite genre. I hope to cultivate an audience that's as obsessed with violence, gore, and psychos as myself.

My scoring is a Tier system with S Tier being the highest possible score and F Tier being the lowest. The earliest reviews are based on a 5 star system. Master List Below Cut

Blog of 1,000 Corpses Master List

newest to oldest order

Is August Underground Disturbing...or Just Immature? || August Underground (2001) Movie Review

The Scariest Night of the Year || Silent Night, Deadly Night (1984) Movie Review

Is "World's Fair" Too Niche for a General Audience? || We're All Going to the World's Fair (2021)

A Holiday Film to Confuse Your Grandma || ThanksKilling (2008) Movie Review

A Unique Twist on the Slasher Narrative || Maniac (1980) Movie Review

A Vacation to the Uncanny Valley || Tourist Trap (1979) Movie Review

A Slasher Flick for the Common Girl || American Mary (2012) Movie Review

A Nightmare of Eroticism & Scrap Metal || Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989) Movie Review

The Revival Saw Needed || Saw X (2023) Movie Review

The Saw Film That Isn't Saw || Spiral (2021) Movie Review

How Does Jigsaw Hold Up as a Saw Film? || Jigsaw (2017) Movie Review

Is This My Worst Rated Film Yet? || Blue Sunshine (1978) Movie Review

Is It Possible to Adapt H.P. Lovecraft's From Beyond? || From Beyond (1986) Movie Review

Found Footage Horror Done Right || Hell House LLC (2015) Movie Review

This Movie has a Zombie Fighting WHAT?! || Zombie (1979) Movie Review

A Suspenseful Gaze at the Dating Scene || Audition (1999) Movie Review

Could This Be a New Cult Classic? || Aimy in a Cage (2015) Movie Review

Peter Jackson's Ooey-Gooey Splattergore Beauty || Bad Taste (1987) Movie Review

Cult Masterpiece or Missed Opportunity? || Blood Harvest (1987) Movie Review

A Snapshot of American Decay at it's Finest || Gummo (1997) Movie Review

A Coming of Age Story to Make Judy Blume Shudder || Ginger Snaps (2000) Movie Review

Witches and Maggots and Earthworms (Oh My) || Hellbender (2022) Movie Review

Is Damien Leone Reviving the Slasher Genre with Terrifier 2? || Movie Review

A Sadistic Acid Trip of Horrorshow Violence || Where the Dead Go to Die (2012) Movie Review

Is Smile (2022) Truly as Disturbing as Claimed? || Movie Review

Is the Cult Classic Sleepaway Camp as Good as We Remember? || Revisiting Slashers

The Complexity of Religion in Unreliable Narratives || A Review of the 2019 Thriller Saint Maud

The Halloween Sequel No One Watched || Halloween III: Season of the Witch Movie Review

Skinamarink: Kyle Edward Ball's Debut Paranormal Fairy Tale

Why John Waters Continues to Inspire -- A Review of the 1972 Cult Classic Pink Flamingos

[moth-yknowtheartist]

> ... oh god, not you. Not right now.

do You want to TALK?

> ......

> ... how are you doing that?

doing What?

> Anything. That corrosion did a lot of damage, you said it yourself, I don't know how you've still been FUNCTIONING for so long. How you're even coherent. I know I didn't do THAT good of a job.

does It matter?

> To me. Yeah.

don't Know what you want me to TELL YOU. im not Looking a GIFT HORSE in the Mouth.

> Why are you here?

i'Ve been STAYING INFORMED. wanted To HELP.

> Why?

impu.lse. does It matter?

> Have you seen Gale?

no. I Found you first. can we GET ON with This?

> ... you can sit down.

> ...

> so?

what Happened, MOTH?

> .... I messed it all up. Everything. Gale- they pressed me on it, I got more- remembered more and- they confirmed the worst.

it Was an Accident, then? not Peep?

> .... It was my fault. Yeah. It all- it all is.

> I did something stupid, and I paid for it and I died, I left everyone behind and it hurt everyone I care about and- and that's not even it. I'm the reason you're around, I made you, and on top of that I was silly enough not to properly secure you- god, I bet whatever made you how you are wasn't even super complex, probably some easy vulnerability I could've patched early if I actually thought.

> You've gotten EVERYONE I care about caught up in this- this fucking web, and it all comes back to me.

> .... I shouldn't even be here. I ruined everything, it's- it's all my fault.

hm. YEAH. it IS.

> ...

what? im NOT going To SUGARCOAT It. you Explained it PRETTY WELL. you Catalyzed this. it is Your fault, on a basic Cause and Effect level.

> Great, so you're just here to make me feel worse or something, then??

no. I'm Helping. ignoring The TRUTH isn't Helpful no matter How much YOU don't like it.

> ... it's weird talking to you.

yeaH?

> You're- it's, for one this isn't supposed to be happening on a basic level I never really expected this, and for two it's like- it's like talking to myself, but also you're so far removed from me I can't even say it feels that way. It's such an uncanny familiarity it's so hard to parse.

imagine How it feels for ME.

> -true.

.... not Everyone you care about, y'know. got Caught in It. some People managed to STAY OUT of it, for the Most part. unfortunatE for ME- but good News for You, probably.

people like GA.LE just happened To be. intensely Unlucky.

> ... Who?

NAT, for ONE.

> Nat's okay?

she Doesn't KNOW. about your DEATH. i received a LETTER.

> I- yeah we- we're pen pals. It's fun. She doesn't- She thinks I'm alive? That everything's okay?

probably. she May have been DISCONCERTED somewhat from when I talked to Her BEFORE. but.

I was going to WRITE her BACK. as You. but I don't Want to be You ANYMORE. it hasn't Served me LATELY, and I've constructed Something NEW anyway.

[A crinkling and fluttering of paper.]

take It. you Respond. do What you WILL.

> I- um- ... thank you. You didn't have to tell me. I would've never known, or at least not for a while.

makes Things EASIER for Me.

> .... what about with Gale? The damage is done there. Shell's been through all the stuff you put shell through, been so terrified, scared of losing shells humanity, close to dying so many times, and- it's all because of me, in the end. Shell blames me, and- god, I can't fix that. I don't even think I can go back, I can't- can't look shell in the eye or-

so You left them?

> -Wh?

you Left them instead? you Decided the BETTER ROUTE was to Leave Gale Alone, in the Forest? you Do know I used that as a Tactic to get them SO UPSET they Shut Me Down, right? you Think that'll make things BETTER?

> ... Gale said he wished he left me in hell. He doesn't want me around.

HAHAHAHA WHAT- he wanted you Around SO BAD he got ATTACHED to a MURDEROUS SCALE REPLICA. which tried To KILL HIM. oh my God and You BELIEVED That???

> ........ oh.

YEAH.

> Ohhhhhh oh my god no you're right. Oh god.

so? you're Gonna keep hiding Out then, or?

> No, nonono, I need to- shit, I need to fix this.

good. then I'VE done MY PART.

> .... you are, like- like thank you, obviously, but your style of HELPING is an enigma to me, you are just- you're confusing. How are you confusing me I made you.

> ...

> I should- I should start trying to retrace my steps. Find Gale. I went pretty far, I think.

good Luck. I won't Be too FAR BEHIND. close enough To LISTEN.

> Ominous, okay, I don't- there's not even a reason to be ominous right- AGAIN, CONFUSING.

> But. Thanks, um. Acher.

[transingthoseformers]

Right now, I'm watching a bunch of Curious Archive videos and digitizing/ freshening up a bunch of sketches from a speculative artbook of mine, and I'm vividly reminded of the absolute potential for speculative aspect of Transformers... and the horror aspect. There's SO MUCH dystopia vibes in every one of the shows, violence is pretty damn common and often death is a big part of the shows (We all remember TFA Blurr, TFP Cliffjumper, G1 Optimus, ect ect.) And so many terrifying concepts come up that are just. There. Cloning. Mind control. Technoorganics, often made through quick tragedy or lax experimentation, an unholy mix of technology and flesh/bone/ect. Literal zombies. The idea of an entire organic planet forced to become metallic, which was generally agreed that it would be lethal to the human species. Even the circumstances leading to the great Cybertronian war are insinuated to be pretty damn grim. Just the idea that your home is just FUCKING GONE and you're stuck on this alien planet, waiting for the moment your hosts decide to reject you. Mecha getting isolated for so long that there's no way in hell it's healthy. Having such long lifespans turned far too short far too often. Toxic and dangerous hierarchies that put your functioning at risk at every damn moment in some continuities (this usually applies to Decepticons, but goddamn is it loud in the SG! Autobots everytime I've read shattered glass). Just the worst individuals ever being able to reap the rewards of society's collapse. Living sentient creations that just don't come out right.

The sheer amount of psychological horror and body horror that can come from transformers... it's amazing and totally underutilized. Ik the IDW comics went into it, and TFP focused on some. And I've seen a nice amount of fanfiction go into it. But I need more. Especially with that hyperrealistic stuff, some people might find that uncanny but i say that's the point.

[mbat]

no im thinking about pregnancy again, as in, how awful i think it is and how people act about it

i guess i have to start with hey! this is just my opinion! if you feel different, hell yeah! im not shit talking you or telling you to feel different! this is literally just me talking about my personal feelings on pregnancy and i dont expect anyone to actually read it and i dont really care if anyone does

anyway i hate how people act like pregnancy is one size fits all. i hate how people act like if you have a vagina and a uterus and whatever that you HAVE to get pregnant one day, that youre going to want to get pregnant eventually even if you very much dont right now. hell, that if youre a "woman" at all, they think youre going to want to be a mother in general.

it really does just go hand in hand with gender role bullshit and how people think that you HAVE to be and do and love whatever youre born with and if you step outside of that that youre the weirdo and youre the one in the wrong, and not that theyre the weird ones for trying to force this stuff on you.

pregnancy, like anything, is for the individual to decide. but god forbid you decide it isnt for you.

pregnancy to me is the worst thing that could ever happen to me. im terrified of it, im disgusted by it, it sounds straight out of a horror movie to me, ive been around it twice irl and it... it just doesnt feel natural to me even though its apparently one of the most natural things we can do as humans. its like looking at the uncanny valley and being told nothing is wrong but theres that pull at the back of your mind telling you to look away, something is wrong, something is so very wrong.

i had a dream many months ago that i got pregnant, and i was near the end of the pregnancy, i had somehow missed the window to get an abortion. i was in a living room surrounded by people, they were all so happy for me. i remember looking down at my stomach and feeling the worst dread. i was too late to stop it, to prevent it, to end it. my options were very few, and all of them were horrible to me.

and of course i havent even mentioned children. i dont want kids! again, its not one size fits all, its the individuals choice! i dont think id be a good father, and i dont want to be one anyway, i want my freedom, my time, my money, my life! why would i want to bring a child into this fucked up world anyway, just to fuck them up more because i really wouldnt be a good parent.

i dont even want to think about the actual birth part. endless hours of pain and disgusting things happening and emotions and... i could never. i could never i could never i NEVER will. i hate disgusting things happening and i hate pain

all of pregnancy is gross though. you are out of control of your own body. its like a parasite to me. something that isnt you is inside of you, and its changing your body and controlling it whether it even means to or not, and you cant just take it out, and its growing and

thats not even mentioning that you can feel it moving around. what. the. fuck.

i hate that people expect this of me. hell, not even just expect, but want this of me. my dad clings to the idea that one day ill give up all my 'i dont want kids' talk and finally be "normal" and want kids and whatever, because hey he wants grandkids :(. you have grandkids!!!! you have 3!!! its not my fault that only one of them is biologically related to you, maybe you should get over your weird attachment to things being biological and just learn to love regardless! i love my nephews and niece, theyre amazing and i love seeing them! i dont hate kids, by the way! i just dont want them for myself!

but honestly the whole reason i even thought about any of this is because, well tmi i guess, i think im starting a period and i just get so distressed about it. i hate that my body does this, i hate that its something i cant control and its disgusting and horrible. i just wish i could take my reproductive system out of me. and so i was like, i wish i could just pay a doctor to get it out of me! but then i remembered that theyd never do that because theyd be like OH BUT WHAT IF YOU MARRY A MAN AND HE WANTS KIDS. YOU NEED TO HAVE AT LEAST 2 KIDS BEFORE WE EVEN CONSIDER IT. and how if someone said that to me i dont think id be able to hold back from telling them that if i ever got pregnant and couldnt get rid of it that i would seriously consider offing myself. if i ever changed my mind about having kids (why would i) i would just adopt anyway.

i hate that my body is expected to belong to someone else, that my choices and my wants dont matter and im just a silly little girl and what i want will change anyway. im a person. im a full on person, and this is my body. i havent even mentioned how being trans factors into this because what more is there to say than 'im a man and that affects how i feel about this thing that people see as feminine'? or my pcos, which i have even less to say about because like, what is there to say ??

i hate that people dont care what i have to say about my own body, and my own future. i hate that my dad wants me to change how i feel about who i am and what i want, i hate that people i dont know that i havent even met expect me to do this thing that changes everything. i hate that people care more about hypothetical people than me. i hate that people think they know better than me about my own body and wants.

i never want to get pregnant. i never want to have kids. that is my choice as an individual, just like its someone elses choice to get pregnant and have kids. theres already enough people doing that in the world, there wont exactly be a shortage because i decide not to. its not my fault that other people see my choice as abnormal and the other as normal, that sounds like a them problem.

[futurecorps3]

𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐮𝐢𝐧𝐞 (𝐀.𝐊)

Masterlist <3

Summary: Aleks needs to seduce Alina. His wife isn’t too pleased with the idea. Two can play the game. Pairing: husband!Aleksander x fem!reader Warnings: ⚠️POSSIBLE SPOILERS FOR BOOK ONE I GUESS?⚠️ possessive Aleks<3, jealousy, implications of smut/sex, Alina hate (but it’s out of jealousy, we cherish and protect her in this household) A/N: Yes, in this one Aleksander is telling the truth and he loves you oh so much not even a sun summoner can take his heart bc u already have it. Hope you all enjoy<3.

This time, it wasn't her worry that was the problem. It was the way her eyes trailed up and down her husband’s body every time she had the chance. It was the astonishment on every face in the room at her little display of (literal) brightness. Including his face. And let us not forget how he kept some kind of physical contact at all times. The worst part is that he did nothing to stop her.

Yes, she was jealous, so what? 

Aleksander could be very selfish too, especially when it came to her.

That was her husband, being eye-fucked by that stupid schoolgirl who’d fall for anything he said if he looked deep into her eyes for long enough. Y/N knew because she was that young woman once, only she made him fall deep into her first. 

They were both very aware of what their love meant to the other and discussed the whole ‘seducing Alina to make her submit to the fold’s power’ situation so that things like this wouldn’t happen. She just couldn’t help it. She couldn’t help the simultaneous pit in her stomach getting deeper and the burning rage boiling inside her a bit more with every passing second. 

Aleksander idolized the ground Y/N stepped on from day one. She was his, and he was hers. Everyone knew it. The moment people knew about their relationship, she became untouchable in the eyes of all Ravkans because she was. They all knew that when the devil falls in love, it’s the most hauntingly beautiful thing ever, and you should be terrified, for he will go to the depths of hell for her. 

“Zhizn Moya” it’s how he called her; “my life”. Things couldn’t be clearer than that.

And saints helped anyone who disrespected his life.

Y/N came from a long bloodline of powerful and respected kings from a kingdom far, far away. All the way across the true sea, to be more specific. They met during negotiation meetings right after he offered his services to the king, but way before The Fold was created and grisha still worked in the shadows, their survival and validation being on his hands. She knew him as Leonid, the handsome man who listened attentively to every word that was spoken in those gatherings. 

He noticed the only woman at the table staring at him from time to time and asked one of her chaperones about her. He might be 400 years old, but he’ll never forget his answer;

“Be careful of that girl, Leo. You can notice the fire behind her eyes if you look close enough. She makes kingdoms fall and monsters wish they’d never been born... Y/N understood from a very young age that the question wasn’t who was going to let her, it was who was going to stop her” 

“Yes, there is something uncanny, demonic, and fascinating in her”

He then found out she fought and won a war at age sixteen, joining the lines after the enemy killed her parents in their sleep. Everyone thought she had lost her mind, that losing her parents had made her a completely different person; and they were right. She was now an icy, calculating machine that ruled a kingdom on her own. 

Aleksander knew that if they were ever together, saints would bow. History had its eyes on them, and he would not let it go unnoticed. They were both warriors who fought for the right thing, willing to do anything if it meant things would get better. They were destined for each other. He knew it right then and there. But there was just one issue; Y/N was no grisha. 

And oh, how terrible it is to love something that death can touch. 

That’s the story of how the tornado with pretty eyes and a heartbeat her kingdom had for a queen, fell in love with a foreign man who fooled dark forces to make her immortal in order to venerate her forever.

That is not an adventure you forget just because a literal sunbeam comes walking into your life ready to fix your past mistakes. You shouldn’t. 

In some way, Y/N felt betrayed and overall forgotten. The moment Aleks was informed a boat full of grisha and soldiers had confirmed they saw a sun summoner save them from the volcra, she said goodbye to many little things she loved; late night walks, good morning kisses, the mind-blowing sex, planning strategies together, shit talking about the king, or simply drinking kvas while reading in silence but still cuddling. 

They talked about it before. He wasn’t about to go flirt with another woman for the future of his country without consulting it with his partner, of course. And Y/N was perfectly aware of the situations that could rise even in her presence.

It was the desire in her and his eyes that bothered her. It was the smile he used to only give to her that bothered her.  It was how precious little Alina was, very much aware that the man she was messing with was a married one, whose wife had met when she arrived at the little palace. 

Clapping made its way onto Y/N’s ears, pulling her back into the real world and automatically clapping along. The demonstration was over, and the same sounds people in the king’s throne room did the first time the Sun Summoner exhibited her powers could be heard in that same moment. Most of the grisha and guards were used to the astonishment Alina caused. Aleksander and Alina walked through the crowd, receiving polite pats on the back, people clutching on her kefta’s sleeve and hearing endless congratulations towards the Black General for the promise of saving Ravka being alive and well. 

His eyes met hers, dismissing her gaze right away. That was the last straw.

Y/N scoffed and drank the champagne inside her glass in one sip. “Two can play the game”, she thought. The game? What game? She knew this was going to happen, and yet she couldn’t help but feel the vengeful idea of flirting with someone else in front of Aleks creep its way into her brain.

She looks around the room. He notices and studies the situation quietly. 

One blond, two blondes, a brunette, and a black-haired nobleman who was staring right back at her. Bingo. 

She smirks as he walks up to her. His jaw clenches. 

“Good evening” said Y/N, eyeing the man in front of her from head to toe. He was handsome, yes. He was wearing a fancy tuxedo most people wished looked good on them. His hair was all brushed back, staying in place effortlessly and had a certain flare in his walking that seemed to attract most people. Just right. “Hello, miss...” he interrogated, an unasked question ready to be answered by the woman “Y/L/N”. Not Kirigan, not right now. 

“Pretty name for a pretty girl. I’m Mikhail Bancroft, pleased to meet you” Mikhail  took her hand in his and placed a soft kiss on it, looking deep into her eyes as if he was looking for something, his thick accent coming forward the moment his voice reached Y/N’s ears. “The pleasure’s all mine then,” she smiled, already pleased with the feeling of eyes burning in her back. He was definitely watching. With time, she learned how his gaze felt.

“What’s a beautiful woman like yourself doing in a lifeless place like this?” he asked. “It’s complicated,” I replied, not thinking much about the answer as I noticed how hard he was staring at the cleavage Aleksander was so opposed to me wearing tonight “Perfect,” his eyes met mine. “I love complicated”. 

Thinking about it, he reminded her of a certain prince that once challenged every form of authority and fought tirelessly to get himself in the front lines of the sea. So seemingly sure of himself, all smirks and witty remarks. “Anyway, would you like to get out of here and-” A scoff beside them cut him short “Excuse the intromission ma’am. General Kirigan has requested your presence in the quarters, now” There stood one of their Oprichniki slightly blushing at the situation she was found in, back still straight but not looking her in the eye as she had requested a couple of times from them.

“Tell him I’m quite busy to attend his nonsense” “He was very explicit on needing you right now, miss Kirigan” he insisted. She complied, nodding slightly and feeling content with the outcome of her whole little show. More so, with the realization that washed over the man’s face, he looked as if he had seen a volcra right then and there. Y/N couldn’t help but giggle. “If you’ll excuse me, Mikhail,” she winked his way and walked away with the oprichniki by her side, a smile of fulfillment displayed on her lips. 

Her very step felt heavier and harder to take. She shouldn’t even be nervous. Why would she be? This was the reaction she was looking for all along, right? Getting a rise out of Aleksander out of pure spice and resentment. Suddenly, after a few turns in the maze the Little Palace was, the hallway that led to the room her husband was waiting for her in felt extremely longer that what she knew it to be.  

Her kefta felt bigger on her too. The weight might’ve been imaginary, but her anxiety for sure wasn’t. She was being stupid, childish even when she crafted her foolish plan to make her husband acknowledge her existence again. The sound of her heels clacking against the white floor was becoming unbearable as temper consumed her.

The oprichniki opened the door for her and she stepped in with caution. “Thank you, Arthur,” Aleks mumbled as he closed the door. He was sitting in the black loveseat in the back of the room, man-spreading as he used to do on most occasions, one arm draped across the back of the sofa and the other holding a glass of what I assumed was kvas. Saints, was he hot. 

She sat on the other side of the big table adorned by the map they had analysed together multiple times, searching for something, anything, that led them to a better strategy for the minor yet fundamental battles that were being fought in the borders with Fjerda. They sat in knee deep silence. No one dared to speak a word first, but at the same time, a whole monologue could be written with the things going on in their minds. Aleksander eyed her from head to toe, sipping on his glass, and Y/N stared at him in the eye furiously. 

The air is so brittle it could snap, and if it doesn't, she might. No-one speaks. What is there to say? They both knew why they were here. Y/N refused to speak first, but a part of her feared he would never break, that he’d wait until she spoke. He didn’t. The only sound that could be heard was glass clinking when his deep voice echoed in the room without facing her as he spoke.

“Dear Mikhail must make you quite nervous with that delightful accent of his” there it was. “Oh, give me a fucking break. We were just talking” she rolled her eyes.”It’s funny, my accent had the same effect as you. Should I try to get it back or is he enough now?” He turned to finally meet Y/N’s eyes. The irritation and discontent were visible in the way his jaw clenched. She could tell. 

Aleksander was a master at keeping his emotions at bay and acting as if everything was fine when he was panicking or burning with rage on the inside. But not with his wife. One, he didn’t need to hide what he felt. Two, if he hid it, Y/N could tell by the little things. 

Like right now. 

The hurt of realizing he was masking his feelings added pain to her heart, translating into standing up and walking hastily at him, fuming. “Don’t you dare insinuate I’m the one changing you for someone else when you’re doing it right before my eyes,” she exclaimed with an accusatory finger pointed at his chest. He sighed loudly. “Is that what this is all about!?” “Take a fucking guess Aleksander!” once again, she raised her voice and he lost it, walking away from her and leaving his glass behind him. 

He then stopped abruptly on his steps after taking one big deep breath and turned to look at her, talking with his hands, a gesture she had always cherished greatly, in more amusing situations, that is. “Are you being serious? Y/N, she’s been here for weeks and just now you find yourself in a predicament? You’re just looking for an excuse for your flirting with that arse and this one is quite absurd! You can do better than that, sweetheart.” The condescendence in his voice made her even more enraged. “Please, you should see yourself from the outside. You’re whipped.” “No, I-” he stopped.

Now he was the one to walk back to her, running a hand through his hair in exasperation, directing it back to his mouth before speaking “Why is this being an issue? You knew about the entire plan and the things that came with it. We talked about it. You’re being ridiculous.” he then cradled her face with both his hands, gently as ever, even though she knew he was extremely angry. The single thought of him being so careful even though he was burning inside made tears prickle her eyes and her face heat up, a lump in her throat “We talked about this,” he said, voice quieter than ever since she walked in the room. 

“The plan was you’d draw her in, you were not meant to fall in love” she mumbled, voice shaking as her tears wet her husband’s hands. Aleksander left no time between her statement and his response, fearing mere seconds could complicate the whole situation even more. “I’m not in love with her, Y/N” he sighed in disbelief. Because he wasn’t lying. He really wasn’t in love with Alina. How could he? She’s struggling to string together an argument, a sentence, or just anything longer than an exclamation of his name. But one look at his face tells her he’s telling the truth. 

And she doesn’t know why, and she doesn’t know how. But anger and jealousy keep replaying the glances she gave him. All she knows is that it frustrates her to no end. That he frustrates her to no end. “I didn’t see the way she was looking at me. I was too busy looking at you.” And for some reason, she’s not angry. Not at him, at least. Not anymore.“Aleks…” She begins again, her voice sounding weak. It’s all he needs as permission to scoop her up into his arms and place her on his lap as he takes his spot on the loveseat again. 

She barely lasted a minute in the conversation. She was quick to break down her walls. He always was. Quick to feel her frustration dissolve at just a few short words. One cheesy line and he’s gotten to her, hook, line and sinker. But it’s the honesty in his voice that weighs the heaviest in her chest. “I just…” “Darling, l-listen to me” he pleaded, his voice shaking ever so slightly at the thought of his wife feeling disregarded and neglected.

“I am not in love with Alina. You are my light. You are my warmth. I am only my true self with you. In this type of life, this kind of trust comes only once. Everything else before or after can only be an imitation of this. I love you. I love you always Y/N.” he paused, making sure she was truly listening. He delivered a peck to her forehead and looked down at her once again. 

“I can’t possibly control how she looks at me... and neither can I control the endless charisma I hold,” she giggled and he followed, his attempt on clearing the ambience succeeding. He could listen to her laugh forever.

“But I do have to admit we haven’t been spending as much time as we used to do, and I’m really sorry about that. It’s just I’ve been waiting for this moment for a long time and I guess I’m kind of excited about it, since it’s going so well and all...” he smiled at her sincerely “It’s okay Aleksander, I’m sorry” she assured, tears long gone and replaced by a smile. “Besides...” he started, kissing her neck feathery and speaking between pecks “you look absolutely breathtaking in this dress and we both know I have trouble keeping my hands to myself whenever you’re around” she blushed slightly at the contact and smiled contently “Yes, we know” 

The way he inhales against her skin tickles, but that feeling is quickly overshadowed by lips pressed against her throat. Her gasp is quiet as his hand creeps up higher, very boldly gripping the meat of her thigh as teeth begin to brush against the most sensitive part of her neck. Her hands reached up,  wrapping around his shoulders as her eyes fluttered close, and she wonders why she was even jealous in the first place.

Even now, she could recall the passive look on his face as the girl who had made her feel so threatened made stupid little jokes at him. But even as she batted her eyes and sung her praises, he never truly turned an eye on her for more than a moment. He was naturally charming, sure. But he was naturally selfish, true. She saw a threat in a girl whom he didn’t consider to be worth more energy than necessary. Because how could he? Aleks has always been a selfish man.

Especially when it came to her.

[writings-of-a-hufflepuff]

My Liability, My Deadweight

Fandom: The Chronicles of Riddick

Collection/Series: My Liability, My Deadweight

Pairing: Richard B Riddick x Female Fat + Glasses Wearing Reader

Writer: @writings-of-a-hufflepuff aka @hufflepuffing-all-day-long

Rating: T (Swearing, Riddick is Riddick, violence)

Warnings: Swearing, violence towards deadly alien creatures, violence from deadly alien creatures towards the reader

Summary: None of this was supposed to happen. You were supposed to be on a holiday resort planet, relaxing by glistening waters and forgetting your troubles. Not traipsing through a deadly jungle on an uncharted planet with a just as deadly companion who seems torn between helping you and hating you.

Notes: So I guess this is going to be similar to Western AU Din in that i’ll probably write some stuff in the same sort of world/vein as this. I’m just interested in the idea of Riddick with a reader who is the opposite of a survivalist, who isn’t fit or strong, who is scared. The idea of Furyans having mates or soulmates that they don’t really get to choose and the idea of Riddick having to come to terms with the idea that the person he wants to protect so bad needs his protection more than most is interesting to me.

This is probably such a niche thing to write, not only because the fandom is tiny, but also because people tend to write Riddick fanfic where the reader or OC is extremely capable, but I wanted to write it. So self-indulgent fic coming up.

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Kratos is a horror show of a planet. It’s the sort of planet you’d never thought you’d end up on, the sort of planet that you saw on horror vids and read about in the tales of survivors of tragedy. You weren’t supposed to be on it. You were just on a short trip, just supposed to go to a stupid holiday planet, at the insistence of your boss that you needed a break from your desk, that you worked too hard. You were a city slicker, an urban citizen, not an outdoorsman or an adventurer, certainly not the sort of person who’d come to a planet like this. But, your pilot had needed to make a stop, said there was a problem with the fuel cells that he needed to check out. So you’d made a pit stop on a barely charted planet. Nothing good ever happens on a barely charted planet. 

Covered in dense, muggy jungle, the planet would have been beautiful had it not been trying to kill you and your, for want of a better word, companion at every turn. It was covered in vibrant green forest, tropical plants, exotic and brightly coloured flowers (many of which, it turns out, were deadly themselves). There were brightly coloured bird-like creatures and primitive mammals that scurried through the trees and across the ground. It would have been beautiful, except for the limp in your walk from the burning claw marks deep in your thick thigh, except for the blood that followed in your wake, the dead bodies of the crew you’d left behind, and the yellow eyes that seemed to follow the two of you under the dark canopy.

After a stupid decision by your group to go out into the jungle to try and find a settlement of some sort, just because it had seemed like (as if there was any real reason to leave), you’d been picked off one by one. You could only describe the beasts as fucked up panthers. Two tails with stingers at the end, sharp spindly spines along their backs, an elongated neck, venomous fangs and sharp teeth and claws. They were hard to spot, silent in the underbrush and decidedly and most definitely deadly. The only reason you were still even alive was because of Riddick, because for some unknown reason the man, the murderer, had decided to stick close to you, like glue. You weren’t complaining.

At the time of boarding the ship for your trip it had seemed horrifying, to know that you were travelling on the same transport as Richard B. Riddick, escaped convict, known murder, predator. He was the sort of man your parents whispered about, the sort of man that you never wanted to meet. He was someone from your worst nightmare. Now he is your saving grace and surprisingly not what you had expected of a notorious big bad. While he meets many of your expectations, crude at times, harsh, and physically intimidating, he defies them too. He is at times oddly gentle with you and, the mere fact he cares about someone’s survival other than his own, is in itself a surprise. A fortunate one for you. 

“Are we nearly back to the ship?” You ask because your leg is killing you, because you so desperately just want to get off this planet even if it means being stuck in a confined space with a convicted murderer. You hate this planet, you hate the constant feeling of fear and of uselessness. You hate the truth of it all, that you are weak, vulnerable, prey not the predator. It has you realising your many weaknesses, many vulnerabilities, many failings. 

“Shhh…” Riddick raises his hand out in front of you, a universal sign to stop, while the other comes to his lips in a shushing motion. If he were a dog, his ears might very well have pricked up at the slightest sound. 

To you nothing seemed out of the ordinary. There were no unusual sounds or movement in the brush. You couldn’t see anything out of place. Just as you begin to notice the silence, the lack of sound, that is the moment everything goes terribly wrong.

“Riddic-” You were cut off by your own scream. 

Things happen so fast that you don’t really have time to process them. One minute you are standing behind Riddick attempting to get his attention, the next a dark shape crashes into you and you’re on the jungle floor a heavy weight pressing on your chest and stopping your breathing. Your hands reach up instinctively, pushing against the creature in an effort to keep sharp gnashing teeth from your face, but you’re not strong and you’re not a fighter and you can feel your arms beginning to collapse already. Can hear yourself screaming for Riddick even as part of you thinks he’ll leave you there, abandon you to be eaten alive. There is a deep fear that this is it, this is the end. That it shall be painful, terrifying, lonely, and unfamiliar. 

Claws scratch at your arms, blood runs over your skin in rivulets as you scrabble in the dirt. Then as suddenly as the weight came it was gone, hefted off of you with an angry roar and the sound of a knife hitting flesh over and over again. You don’t look, can’t bring yourself to look, just lie there and breathe, in and out. You don’t want to see him do what he’s good at, don’t want to see alien blood, a dying creature, the parts of him that are less than gentle. So you stare up at the canopy and catch your breath, feeling the blood flow down your arms, the bruises that ache over your stomach, hips and legs. Feel the relief flow through you, combat the shock, as you realise you are not dead, you are alive, and he did not leave you to die. 

You’re rather numb in truth until you hear him muttering above you, “goddamn liability, deadweight…”, it shouldn’t upset you because it’s true. But it does, it upsets and angers you because you didn’t want to be here, you didn’t want any of this and you didn’t ask him to hang around, didn’t ask him to help you. You had no say in this. This was not your idea of a holiday, your idea of fun, or your fault. 

It forces you to your feet, forces you, despite the blood dripping from your wounds, to stand and face him, despite the bruises, despite the pain, despite the fear. You find yourself planting your feet even as you sway unsteadily, standing with hands on your wide hips and a scowl aimed at a man that could kill you easily. For the first time you’re too angry to overthink your actions towards the man. For a moment you stop thinking and start acting. 

“If i’m such a goddamn liability, then just leave me here! I didn’t ask for you to stay, Riddick! I didn’t ask for your help! If it’s such a fucking chore to have me along, if i’m really dead weight then leave me! Go!” You didn’t normally scream at anyone, it wasn’t your personality type. You were quiet, shy, retiring. A wallflower. You didn’t scream. You didn’t start fights. You didn’t do any of that. Anger wasn’t your natural response to anything. Fear was. But after being hunted down, time and time again by giant alien cats with venomous fangs and an uncanny ability to hide on a jungle planet, all while being called a liability, a dead weight by the one person you had to rely on, well, you were finally at your wits end. You were in pain, you were upset, frustrated and ready to just go home. 

You didn’t understand it. Why Riddick even bothered with you, practically a stranger. You knew you were a liability, that’s why it hurt so much when he said it. You were soft, emotionally and physically. You were a slow runner, a poor fighter, had terrible eyesight that required glasses, you weren’t light on your feet or graceful and you certainly didn’t know much about survival. You were overweight, unfit and unsure on your feet. You were prone to panic and tears, you were easily emotionally and physically unbalanced. Until this trip from hell you’d been content in the inner rim, working a normal job, a safe life. Your day to day had been comfortable, safe. Easy. You weren’t cut out for this, for danger and potential death and had Riddick, this known criminal, one of the most sought after murderers in the verse, not decided to stick by your side you’d have died at least ten times already. It didn’t make any sense and your frustration at yourself, the situation and at him had tears pooling in your eyes. You didn’t ask for any of this.

“I can’t.” He’s so impassive, so calm, that it pisses you off more. It pisses you off how hard it is to read him, how he hides his eyes behind black goggles that stop you understanding him. How he hides all emotion from you so easily. How is he okay with this? How is he so calm when everything around the two of you wants to kill you, when he could have left this goddamn planet already if you weren’t slowing him down at every turn? How could he stand there above the body of some hell spawn creature and just stare at you like that, like everything was just fine, just normal? Like he wasn’t covered in it’s blood. Like you weren’t dripping in your own. Like you hadn’t almost died. Again. 

“I..I don’t get it…? What do you mean you can’t? You could walk the fuck away right now. I can’t stop you! No one else is here to stop you! If you want to leave, leave! No one’s holding you back, Riddick! No one is going to stop you! I can’t bloody well can’t! Look at me!” You sound hysterical even to your own ears but you can’t help it. You are so scared, so confused, so frustrated, so panicked by all that’s happened, all that could happen. You gesture down to yourself, to the bloody coating you, the way you protectively hold yourself off of your hurt leg, the sheer stature different between the two of you. All the things that make it very abundantly clear that if he chose to simply walk away you couldn’t stop him. 

“Listen, princess, it’s not that fucking simple!” The snap is almost relieving, that he’s not as cold, not as impassive as you thought. That he could break too. That he could be angry, that he could be upset, that this wasn’t just normal. Even as his steps closer cause your back to hunch, cause you to second guess your antagonist behaviour. 

“I don’t understand!” 

With a growl he’s crowding you against a tree, thick arms caging you in. He’s imposing, large, a head taller than you and the action has him taking over every one of your senses. He never touches you in anger and while the display is intimidating, it oddly enough doesn’t scare you. It almost feels secure. Perhaps because not once has he done anything to suggest to you that he would hurt you, every move he’s made has been to keep you safe. Every time he’s touched you has been to pull you from danger or bring you back to your feet. Despite his harsh appearance, his foul language and the deadliness that he displays at every turn, he has never once given you cause to fear him. To fear how he would treat you. 

“You’re my mate, got it?! I don’t get to choose, I don’t get a choice! I can’t leave you! I just fucking can’t, so you’re a fucking liability and dead weight, but you’re my dead weight, got it? I ain’t fucking leaving you, we either both get off this motherfucking planet or we both get eaten by these fucks, princess. There’s no inbetween, understand?” Silver eyes flash at you as he tears the goggles from his eyes,  his brow furrows and the muscles in his thick neck and broad shoulders bunch and move with every piece of tension that bursts through him. You are distinctly and sharply reminded that Riddick is a predator in every sense of the word, while you are prey. You are on two separate ends of the spectrum. 

“Mate…?” Your eyes flit across the landscape behind his head, trying to process all those words and all their meanings. You don’t understand, you don’t understand any of it. But, those words soothe you in a way you can’t explain. He isn’t going to leave you. For whatever reason, for whatever this is, whatever he means, he isn’t going to leave you.  You let out a breath you didn’t even realise you’d been holding. He’s not leaving, even if you’re a liability, a deadweight. Even when things get bad, he’s not leaving. He is, at this point, your only chance at getting home, getting away from him, of surviving. The panic in you begins to soothe, calm and settle. 

“We don’t have time for this.” You’re startled by the sudden display of affection as the man cups the back of your neck and presses his forehead into your own, “Just trust me.”

“I do, Riddick, I trust you” It’s hard to explain, the trust you feel for him, the safety as you let him lead you once more through the jungle. You are bleeding, in pain and still ever so aware of the dangers around you, but you have an implicit belief that with Riddick you are as safe as you can be. That if there was ever a person to carry you through this it would be him. 

You might still be confused, might not understand what he means by you being his mate or by his obligation towards you, but you know that he isn't leaving you for dead and that is enough right now. That is more than enough.

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                                                   All Works Taglist

@charradelange @belfry-bat  @gabile18 @beccaboo929​  @trasheater

[maraudersftw]

“I made a bet. I lost. It’s as simple as that.” From the prompts 🥰

Finally found some inspiration for this. Thank you for the prompt, I love you! x

Sore Loser

He knows she’s coming before he sees her. This is, undoubtedly, in part, thanks to the magical map in his proud possession and perhaps, also in part due to his uncanny awareness about everything to do with her. She’s the axis he can’t help but rotate around.

Before tonight, he wouldn’t have dared admit to such a sappy, candy-sprinkled thought even inside the safety of his own mind. But before tonight, he’d convinced himself of a lot of other lies as well.

“Well, this is quite the surprise,” her tinkling, happy voice remarks. He looks up, sees red hair and green eyes and glowing pale skin. “How’s the star of the match missing out on his own party?”

“Not missing,” he informs her, taking the effort to pull his hand up and shake the bottle of Firewhiskey dangling from his fingers for her benefit. “Having my very own personal party right here.”

Pink lips coated in clear, shimmery gloss pull up into a smile. “D’you reckon there’s room for another?”

He shrugs. “Be my guest.”

She becomes it, moving closer to the alcove ledge he’s currently perched on. He watches her gazelle-like grace as she twirls, plants two palms on the slab and swiftly lifts herself up near his feet, nary a skirt pleat out of place. Her cheeks are tinged a merry rose, and the carefree brightness of her gaze tugs painfully on his heartstrings.

He looks down and traces the lip of the bottle with his forefinger.

“Why d’you look like someone killed your beloved pet?”

His glare is not nearly as annoyed as he wants it to be. “I don’t. I just didn’t like the crowd in there.”

The smile on her face drops for a second. “Oh. Well, if you want to be alone, I can leave, Potter. Honest.”

“No!” he rushes like an idiot. “I mean, I wasn’t talking about you. If I didn’t want you here, I wouldn’t’ve asked you to stay.”

She seems to accept the answer, a small smirk in place as she snatches the bottle from his relaxed fingers. The protest dies in his throat when he notices her staring at him over the rim, a playful glint in already dangerous eyes.

“You’re too drunk for a Head Girl.”

“And you’re too sulky for a Head Boy,” she throws back at a speed that has him wondering whether she’d had the comeback ready before his actual quip. Lily Evans, always two steps ahead. The tip of her trainer nudges his. “You’ve got awfully long legs. My arse is almost hanging off the edge here.”

He doesn’t think it wise to retort to that and simply scoots over. “Can I have my drink back, please?”

“No,” she says, and then takes a deep swig from the bottle as if to prove her point. He tries not to stare at the way her lips purse around the opening, soft and firm at the same time, and fails stupendously. When she pulls the bottle away, her cheeks glow even redder. “So, are you going to tell me about it? The reason behind such brooding?”

He considers her for a second, and then shrugs. “There’s nothing to tell; I made a bet. I lost. It’s as simple as that.”

“Ah,” she nods, head leaning back against the wall, tongue darting out just the barest amount to lick some residue from the corner of her mouth. He’s almost positive she’s taunting him. “Always knew you were a sore loser.”

Despite himself, amusement bubbles inside. “And you aren’t?”

“I’m certainly worse,” she laughs, and he knows the sound is only so loud because she’s drunk, but the strange pride in his chest seems delusional. “But lucky for us, I’m generally not in the habit of losing.”

“Hmm,” he tilts his head, snatching the bottle back from her loose fingers—“hey!”—and leaning back to mirror her pose. Even in her current state of inebriation, James knows she looks cooler than him. Because she is. “Remind me to never make bets with you then.”

“Well, that would hardly make sense now, would it? How can I win if you don’t lose?”

He wonders the same thing, and often. Between the two of them, she almost always wins, and yet, it feels like the only person he loses against is himself.

“I’m sure you’ll figure something out.”

She lets his non-answer go with just an amused smile, and he’s certain the Firewhiskey is to thank for it. “Who did you bet against?”

“Myself,” he gives her the truth.

She finds this funny, laughing even louder. “Typical of you to sulk over a bet with yourself, Potter. Did you not score enough goals to beat your personal best today?”

“That’s exactly it.”

“You’re mental; you won us, what? Eighty points single-handedly?”

He passes her the bottle again, leaning forward just to have an excuse to see her better. “That’s quite the precise number, Evans. Been keeping an eye on me, have you?”

“That’s exactly it,” she echoes, grinning winningly, “both my eyes.”

His heart has gone absolutely mad. Her gaze on him persists through her next swig, and he waits for her to lower the bottle again. “Let’s go back. It’s very late.”

“Why?” she leans forward too, too close. “Are you scared?”

“Terrified,” he confesses, eyes betraying him by straying to her lips. The way the corners pull up, he knows she knows. “But also, we need to clean up the common room before McGonagall can raise hell come morning.”

“What a day,” she sighs, swinging her legs down and jumping off the ledge with just as much poise as she’d begun with. His head spins at her sudden absence. “James Potter, making me feel like the irresponsible one! I’m most ashamed.”

He watches her brush off invisible dust from her skirt, empty bottle hanging from between her fingers, and smiles. It’s not the worst thing, he supposes, to lose a bet with yourself about getting over Lily Evans. Especially not when she looks over her shoulder at him with that smirk.

“Are you just gonna sit there and stare, Potter?”

He grins, jumps off, and steps towards her. “With both my eyes.”

[sparkles-and-trash]

the prequel cartoon filter when I’m in cosplay: amazing, perfectly captures my makeup and wigs, highlights what makes the characters stand out, super fun and cool

the prequel cartoon filter when I’m just me: terrifying, uncanny valley, it’s giving mean girl in a Disney Channel cartoon, manic pixie in the worst ways, is this hell?

[bugmomwrites]

Best Friends With Inosuke

A/N: I’m on a car ride and decided to work on some drafts. Typing this on my phone so I’m sorry if the formatting looks wonky.

These are GENDER NEUTRAL, and reader is very similar to Inosuke personality-wise.

I’m not too familiar with KnY yet but in this house we stan ManBoarPig so let’s gooooo

How y’all meet:

You chucklefucks meet in the woods near the butterfly estate when the gang is checking around for any potential threats.

Rumors have been going around about some suspicious humanoid making an appearance every now and then. Preparing for the worst, they decided to go investigate, and slice up some demons if need be.

They’re about to head back when they hear rustling from the trees above, and some screaming.

Cautiously, the three of them draw their blades and follow the noise. They end up below a wisteria tree, and see what looks like a person bouncing on the branch.

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“Well, I don’t think it’s a demon”, Zenitsu mutters. No sooner does he say that does he hear the mystery person holler again, only this time it’s a full sentence.

“EAT MY ASS DEMONS!”

Yup- definitely not a demon.

Your head pops out, and you’re hanging upside down on a branch coming face to face with...a boar’s head?

You: 🙃

Inosuke: 👁👄👁

The trio is too stunned to do anything for several seconds before the branch snaps and you scream, falling on your back.

It hurts too much to move, so you just kinda lay there like a helpless turtle. Zenitsu is panicking, asking if you were okay, but you were just vibing on the forest floor.

Suddenly, you just start laughing at the events that just happened, trying to reassure the orange one that yes, you were fine, and falling out of trees was a pretty normal thing for you.

You catch your breath after a good chuckle, moving to sit up when your face contorts, wincing at the sharp pain that shoots through your spine.

Tanjiro’s brain immediately shifts into Mother Hen mode, and before you can protest you’re being hauled back to the estate with them.

You end up staying there for a while, and when you healed up a little bit more, you start training with the trio as a form of physical therapy.

Inosuke rarely tired out, and didn’t hold back, so you came to form a mutual respect with the feral boy. He was by far your favorite sparring partner, and a strong camaraderie was quickly forged between you two.

You eventually began tagging along for missions, and you loved how you could kick ass while still being your usual chaotic self.

The two of you were so much alike it was almost uncanny. You become a permanent member of their motley crew, and the rest is history.

Friendship:

All I can say is...poor Tanjiro. Boi will probably be gray by 20 at this rate.

Zenitsu is wary around just one of you guys at a time.

But as one unit? He’s fucking terrified.

As a result, he ends up your primary target for pranks and shenanigans.

You and Inosuke both share no more than half a braincell at any given moment.

When one has some crackpot scheme cooked up, the other only eggs them on to go through with it. Nobody is ever the “impulse control”

If you’ve never been subject to ✨peer pressure✨ are you really friends?

Bad ideas are the best stories, as you always said.

“I found a branch on the ground! Let’s go play hornet piñata!”

“Only if you remember to keep your eyes closed this time!”

Needless to say, you both ended up back at the butterfly estate to be patched up and they were not happy.

Sometimes, you guys play this game called “Hard Head”. It is exactly what it sounds like.

Spoiler alert: you guys run at each other from a distance and head butt each other as hard as you can.

The winner is the one who does the most damage/sends their opponent furthest away from the set area.

Comparing scars and bruises like badges of honor, exchanging stories and laughter? Hell yeah.

You guys were both stubborn and wild, so arguments are inevitable. Usually over stupid, childish things.

In times like these, violence usually was the answer (much to Tanjiro’s chagrin).

You guys would duke it out until one or both of you got tired, or simply forgot what you were upset about.

Because let’s face it, neither of you even really have the attention span or the patience to hold a grudge for very long.

If there’s anything else you guys have in common (besides exactly 1/2 a brain cell between you), it would most likely be your appetites.

It didn’t matter who cooked it or what was being served- if it was edible, you two were anything but picky.

You’re both messy and rambunctious at the table, and the rest of the gang has low key sorta given up on trying to get you guys to be civilized during meal time.

You know that thing where you take a magnifying glass and set ants on fire? You guys try to do that and the ONLY reason nothing ends in disaster is because neither of you can stop giggling long enough to hold it totally still.

It just starts smoking a bit and y’all...lose it. You’re like a couple of school girls.

Inosuke is your ride or die, and the two of you could easily form a very small gang with how close you are.

You guys have each other’s backs on the battlefield and off it. If one goes down, the other is up and ready to avenge, no matter how beaten down they may be. You’re the only ones allowed to beat each other up 😤👏

When Inosuke is out of commission, you’re right by his bedside, and the others have to practically drag you away so you can actually do things like eat, sleep, or use the bathroom.

Your company helps him get his fighting spirit back, and before you know it the Dumbass Duo is back in business.

You guys may be stupid, but even you understand that a bond like yours is hard to come by. You and Inosuke were both powerful and strong on your own, but both of you together? Definitely a force to be reckoned with.

[reddrobins]

of coffee cups + criminals - four [j.todd]

TW: blood, language, gore(?)

ONE - TWO - THREE

How long they had been driving was beyond [Y/N]. After an awfully hostile awakening, courtesy of Black Mask, the trade off had been initiated. One of the Mask’s men had gone behind her, tying a blindfold tight on her - already sore - eyes. From there, what happened was a mystery to her. 

There was a bunch of movement, yet never her leaving the chair. They had carried her restrained form onto - what she could only assume to be - a truck. Placing her down, not gently at all, a loud bang sounded and darkness enclosed the smaller space.

This, [Y/N] felt, was worse than anything she had persisted through thus far. 

Being punched? Not optimal, but fine.

Restrained? Okay.

Left alone in an unknown dark and dank container - not her favourite choice.

It was more so the fact that she was now aware of who would be accompanying her in said truck that instilled the terror in [Y/N]. He had been uncharacteristically silent since his appearance. Not a single laugh or chuckle or anything. That was what scared her most. It was like entering the uncanny valley, a land with silent Jokers, quiet clowns, everything the prince of Gotham was not.

Feeling her anxieties start to get the better of her, [Y/N] steadied her breathing - centering herself. If there was anything she had learned from her time with Jason, it was to remain calm in Gotham. Take everything as it's thrown at you, don't let your consciousness morph it into fear. Stay Calm.

Though her brain was yelling at her to scream, shout, do anything to alert help, [Y/N] knew that it would most definitely gain the attention of those only wanting to hurt. Crossing that off of her mental escape checklist, she tried to upperhand the blindfold. Wiggling her ears, she felt the cloth give a bit. Seemingly not as tight as it had felt, [Y/N] began to furiously shake her head, doing her best to loosen it completely.

As if a higher power answered her prayer, the right side of the blindfold slipped down, allowing her to peak out that eye. Scrunching her nose, she then maneuvered the left side to fall as well, both eyes now at her disposal. Though, evidently, removing the blindfold was not much help as the area around her was still as dark as can be. 

Turning her neck as far as possible, she scanned her surroundings - trying to grasp onto any detail that could aid her in her escape. In the corner of her eye, she caught a glimpse of silver. Using all of her might to shuffle the chair she sat in, [Y/N] got closer to the object. 

It was attached to the wall, a small metal lever - one that normally was used to open a moving truck. So she had been right, though the confirmation of her thoughts did little to help her out of her situation. 

If she could just grasp the bar, she may be able to open the trailer - grantering her freedom.

Once more scooting her chair towards the lever, she leaned forward, lifting her tied arms upward. One of her fingers made contact with the cool metal, not close enough to grab it yet. She bumped back once more, successfully getting a hold of the bar.

Then it seemed that all hell broke loose. A series of loud bangs and rattles echoed throughout the metal box. The floor shook, little scraps jingling about. The chair [Y/N] sat in bounced as well, moving along the rattling ground. The bar slipped out of her hold the further the chair gilded. That was until she was suddenly rammed back into the wall, the truck all but rolling onto its side.

She now layed sideways, the wall now acting as the floor. A warm substance had gathered on the side of her arm, when she was thrown against the lever, it had cut her forearm. That's not all it had cut though.

[Y/N] felt a newfound freedom in her joints, the lever had sliced through the rope holding her hands hostage. So she may have been bleeding, but now she could escape.

Cheek pressed against the cold floor, she wiggled her arms up and down, gliding the rope off of her wrists. Successfully untangling herself, [Y/N] pushed herself back into a sitting position, beginning to untie her legs.

A slam sounded from the front of the carrier, freezing [Y/N] in her place. Whomever had been driving now was out of the truck - there was no way of telling how much time she had left alone… that is, if she was in the first place.

Blocking the horrid thought from her mind, [Y/N] went back to untying the bonds, freeing her legs from the chair. She placed her hand down onto the floor to steady herself, but quicking retracted it, her fingertips now lightly coated in blood.

Covering her cut with the opposite arm, [Y/N] felt around for the latch. Finally, she felt the circular shape of the metal and pulled up as hard as she could manage with one arm. 

It wouldn't budge.

Though [Y/N] never considered herself as weak, she knew that this was a two handed job. Pushing through the sting of the injury - she used both arms to move the lever - this time it reacted.

Light seeped in slowly as the door opened, each stream of sun bringing a sense of safety into the small compartment. The gleam was harsh compared to the darkness [Y/N] had grown used to, forcing her to lift her hand over her eyes, blocking the direct rays. 

The exit slid to completion, the click alerting [Y/N] it was done - that she was free now.

Uncovering her eyes, she slowly blinked, trying to adjust to the daylight. Vision blurry, she squeezed her eyes shut then squinted them, in an attempt to make out her surroundings.

Once her vision settled, a low hiss of “oh fuck.” came out of her mouth.

Standing in front of the open truck, a sick smile plastered onto his face, Joker waved.

His laugh vibrated around the interior of the metal box, “Wow!” He started, “Quite a show you’ve put on my dear!” Joker clapped his hands, “I didn't take you for a modern Houdini, but brava!” His mock applause continued as [Y/N] stared in awe at the man before her.

She had only ever seen the Joker in full on the TV or her phone. Being before him without a screen of separation was the most terrifying experience [Y/N] had ever had. If she really were a magician, she would have loved to put on a disappearing act. 

“Well! Since you’ve so nicely done half the work for me,”  The clown now entered the truck, [Y/N] instinctively backing away. He outstretched his hand, “Come along now!” His voice was sing-songlike, horrid and shrill, “Time to get a move on.” Turning in on himself, he muttered, “As I don't think our chauffeur can drive on any longer…” The sentence was followed by his signature haunting laugh.

The Joker shook his hand, presenting an air of urgency. [Y/N], fear stapling her to the floor, hadn't moved a muscle - not that she would have accepted his hand otherwise.

Annoyed, the clown rolled his eyes, “Oh come on now. I haven't killed you yet, have I?” He phrased it as a joke, going into a set of hysterics afterward. Then just like that, his straight face was back - as if the episode hadn't happened. Thrusting his hand forward, he wrapped his icy fingers around her arm, pulling [Y/N] out of the truck.

The grip was not as rough as Sionis’ had been, but [Y/N] let out a wince - pain firing through her. Joker had grabbed her bleeding arm, white hands now wet with crimson. Letting out a laugh he lifted his hand up, inspecting the blood. A sadistic smile etched across his face, he spoke, “Looks like you’ve done more than half the work! Shame, no audience to see it.” He sighed, “Poor stagecraft on your part.”

Glancing back down at his hand, he shrugged - “Well, can't waste fresh product now, can we?”

She had yet to utter a single word. At this point she was surprised she was still alive. A finger against her face brought [Y/N] out of her semi-shock. She looked down, the acid stained digit tracing a gory smile across her face.

As Joker wiped his hands together, spreading the residue onto the other - [Y/N] shakily reached up to touch her face. Her unsteady hand made contact with her cheek, feeling her own blood painted on her skin. 

Until this point, [Y/N] had felt as though she had been handling the situation pretty well. But now as she stood in the middle of a concrete lot, in who knows where, with none other than the Joker as company, [Y/N] felt like the world was caving in. 

Pulling her hand off of her cheek, a sob escaped out of her - the blood on her fingers a final confirmation that this was not a dream. That she wouldn't wake up next to Jason, that she wasn't in some alternate reality - no, it confirmed her fears. She was awake, she was alive and most terrifyingly she was conscious. This wasn't some wack fantasy her brain had made, rather it was life, her life specifically - and she had no control over it.

“Oh no! Oh no no no.” Joker tsked, furiously shaking his head, “We can't have you crying now! I haven't even had the curtain call!” He rushed towards her, hands outward - immediately going to rub at her eyes. A mix of salt and iron smeared over her face, the blood and tears seeping into her pores. His attempt to stop her from crying failed, the physical touch only pulling more sobs out. 

The Joker, in an outburst of annoyance, gripped at his viridescent hair, “I was going to wait until he arrived, but if you insist.”  Once more grasping her arm, he dragged her towards a decrepit building. He dragged her past the front of the truck, which now she could see had clearly flipped over. The front of the vehicle was the worst, so much so - [Y/N] almost fainted. 

There was blood everywhere, spilling out of the window onto the pavement, splattered against the seat, anywhere there could be blood - there was. It was easy to deduce who it came from. The driver, or rather what was left of him, was clearly dead… and worse - dismembered. 

A sharp pull took her attention away, the Joker not waiting to spare his last victim a glance. Offhandedly he spoke, “Least good old uncle Joker could do. Couldn't have a pure soul like him going back to work for Romie, just didn't feel right.”  

Trying still to ease her nerves - solely for the sake of her sanity - [Y/N] centered her attention to their new surroundings. He had led her into the building, the disrepair showing the buildings age. After the Falcone family had dispersed Carmines extra funds, the GCPD had gentrified a bit of Gotham in an attempt to get them on the map again. The majority of central Gotham now was pretty decent, so [Y/N] knew that she had been dragged to the edges of the city. Maybe even the Bowery… 

Their steps echoed throughout the room, broken linoleum tiles reverberating with each click of the Joker's shoes. Light peaked into the halls through boarded up windows, the wood rotted and creaking with each blow of wind. In short, the building was straight out of a nightmare. It was exactly like how [Y/N] had imagined all of Gotham to be, prior to moving there. The only thing truly out of place in the dated building was in the back. 

A large makeshift stage had been poorly put together, different materials and nails clashing against one another. A homemade stage curtain accompanied it, also sewed together with multiple fabrics - some plaid, some polka dotted and eerily enough, most stained with a rusty colored substance. 

[Y/N] knew he was a maniac, but had failed to truly grasp the sanity - or lack thereof -  of the clown before her. This was nothing more than a show to him. What she presumed to be her death, was nothing but stagecraft. The last act of a Shakespearean tragedy, though it seems that there would be no knight in shining armour for this damsel in distress.

On centre stage, there sat a single seat. The set dressings bland, but speaking volumes to the audience in the room. The Joker already knew how this act would end, [Y/N] however, was left guessing, theorizing her role in the show. Would she take the crown and come out a stronger person? Or would her character simply be a pawn in the long game of life, a death with little influence.

In the midst of her melancholic monologue, the Joker had ushered her up onto the platform - his grin growing larger and larger every step she took. She was in a trance-like state, her subconscious tuning out as a protective measure for what was about to ensue. Shoving her shoulders, [Y/N] was forced onto the chair - now able to see the ‘theatre’ in full. There were rows of crates and boxes, all placed together to mimic a real auditorium. It was almost as if The Joker expected this performance to get a full house.

The clown then went off stage right, leaving [Y/N] on her own. He hadn't tied her down, but he knew she wasn't going anywhere and deep down, [Y/N] knew he was right. She was far too scared, too shocked to even think about running. Not to mention the gash on her arm, nor the amount of blood lost so far.

A squeak of wheels alerted her that the rogue was back, and this time not empty handed. The stage now hosted a horrifying bright purple cart, the wheels rusted but vibrant nonetheless. The colour was not the scary part however. On each shelf of the metal rack were several different objects, ranging from a ‘can of worms’ to a meat cleaver. 

As [Y/N] eyed the cart, the Joker walked down stage, arms outstretched in a greeting. “Good evening all!” He yelled into the empty theatre. “Boy, do I have a show for you tonight! Meet our special guest Miss. LN herself!” Doing a stage turn, he gestured to her, “And look folks, she even got all dolled up for us! Isn't that just darling?” A laughing fit followed after, the shrill sound bouncing around the vacant room. 

Crazy as the situation was, [Y/N] couldn't help but wonder, ‘why’, still. Why her? What did this all stem from, her not knowing enough about The Red Hood? Better yet, why was Joker involved? Why was he making this a spectacle for absolutely no one? Though to question the ways of a madman seemed a little mad in itself.

The laughing ceased, the Joker heading back towards the cart. “Now, I figured since Miss. LN has been such a lovely guest, coming out here to grace us with her presence - we should give her thanks.” He then turned to [Y/N], a wicked smile stretched across his white face, “And what better way to say ‘Thank You’, than a little game?” 

“Lights!” The Joker yelled, a series of clicks and flickers following. A myriad of colorful lights filled the room, some stage lights, some bedside lamps and others random bulbs all connected into an awful collage.

‘WHEEL OF DEMISE’ was spelled out with lights, the sign hanging precariously on the back wall.

“That's right all!” The Joker announced as he made his way backstage again, “I’m rehashing my ‘Wheel of Demise’ - just for good old [Y/N] over here.”

He came back onstage, a gigantic purple and green spinning wheel rolling on the floor behind him.

“If you’re not familiar with this treat, Miss. LN will spin the wheel and let it decide her gift!” Joker faced the wheel towards her, egging her on to spin it. [Y/N] remained frozen.

Sighing, he spoke to the ghosts in the house, “It seems as though our talent has gotten stage fright. Not to worry, Mr. J is happy to spin it himself!” 

A sickeningly white hand theatrically grasped the dial, giving the wheel a whirl. [Y/N] held her breath as she watched the choices tick by. 

PINWHEEL PERRIL.

SILLY STRING SNUFFING.

BALLOON BEATDOWN.

ASPHYXIATION.

FACE PAINT FATALITY.

The spinning stopped. The arrow, pointed at a bright green box, the purple letters read: TICKLE TERMINATION.

She released her breath, though at the hands of the Joker, surly tickling wasn't that bad.

The clown prince frowned, this was not what he wanted. Deciding his audience would get bored by such a bland show, he prefaced, “Well seeing as [Y/N] is the guest, it wouldn't be fair for me to choose. Think of that as a ‘test run’ if you will.” Facing her, he smirked - voice threatening, “Give it a spin, it's not nice to keep the audience waiting.”

Accepting that she wasn't getting out of here alive anyway, [Y/N] leaned forward, reaching a shaky hand out and spun the wheel.

It went around and around and around, her getting dizzy at the clashing colors mixing in her vision. Finally, it slowed down and [Y/N] almost let out a cry of happiness, the wheel was going to stop on TICKLE TERMINATION again.

Joker had caught the small glimmer of hope in her eye, and being the saint he was, diminished it as soon as possible. He would hate for false possibilities to form in her mind. So with a slight motion of his hand, he grasped onto one of the wheels pegs, bridging the spinning to a shortstop.

Both of the stage presences looked at the wheel, though their reactions were poles apart. [Y/N]’s the face of tragedy whilst Joker’s the face of comedy.

‘BLADE BEREAVEMENT’ 

“Well, well, well! It seems as though [Y/N] has chosen wonderfully! I know this is always a favourite amongst the house!” He laughed, wheeling the cart towards him. “Now the only question is, which one will be the lucky tool tonight?”

His pasty hand glided over the assortment of sharp metals, a facade of thought on his face. “Shall it be this one?” He lifted a small surgical blade, the hardware glimmering against the harsh lights. The Joker's expression showed the audience's distaste of the item, he placed it back. “How about… This one!” A larger kitchen knife was in his grip, the edges serrated and sharp.

As he continued to mime a conversation, [Y/N] was trying to stay awake. Whether it was from the blood loss or just the constant reminder of death on her shoulder - her body wanted nothing more than to shut down. She continued to remind herself why she needed to be awake. [Y/N] thought of escaping, of getting out alive, of seeing the coffee shop again, of seeing Jason again… Jason. 

God, throughout all of this craziness she never thought about how he must be feeling. He's probably at the GCPD right now, reporting her disappearance. Fuck. She was going to die and Jason would never really know why, he would just see the reports of another one of Joker's sorry victims.

A loud crash broke [Y/N] from her thoughts. Initially, she thought it was the cart, maybe Joker had knocked it over. But upon looking up, she realised that he had heard it too. The clown narrowed his eyes, looking around the spacious room for a sign of the intruder.

“It’s over fuck-face.” the voice had sounded from above them, “Let her go and maybe I won't kill you slowly.” 

As her confusion grew, the malicious smile she had gotten used to formed itself on Joker's face once more. “Oh ho ho ho! Lookie here audience, it seems like our final guest of honor has arrived!” He clapped his hands together, eyes still glued above them in search of the person.

A stray can rolled onto the stage, smoke pooling out of it, stinging [Y/N]’s eyes. She coughed and covered her face, then a lightbulb went off. The smoke. Joker can't see!

[Y/N] stood from the chair, ducking low to the ground trying to feel her way around the stage. 

“We can't have the talent leave! I hadn't called you off stage yet!” His cry took [Y/N] by surprise, as did the grip that came with it. A white claw was now locked around her throat, partnering to the cold barrel that was pressed against her temple.

“Ever the dramatist you are Hoodie! Just like your father… And I’m not talking about Batsy!” Another clang sounded from the audience, the mystery guest had decided to show themself. 

The first thing [Y/N] saw was the glimmer of crimson. Even through the smoke she could make out its blood-red color, the cool metal of the helmet reflecting the lights. 

“Ah, finally.” The Joker spoke, “You’re just in time for the show. Why don't you take a seat, Jason Todd?”

[dafukdidiwatch]

FoodFight (2012)

The origin story of Sausage Party and The Emoji Movie

I honestly don’t really know where to start with this film. Like I’ve heard of it, I’ve seen reviews of it, I was so sure I wouldn’t ever see this trainwreck because it looked and sounded so bad.

But honestly? This was an amazing film to watch. I don’t even know where to begin because I genuinely enjoyed this movie. This was a fun shitty trainwreck of a movie.

Let’s start with the obvious: The animation sucks. Like the designs are bad, the world building is bad, the animation is bad. Body movement? What body movement? The only body movement we need is arm waving and twirling and nothing else. And those are for characters they were trying for. The Humans, if there are any, are the literal worse with either being amusement park mascots at best or mountain troll monsters at worse. Yeesh they were bad to look at. In fact, a lot of characters in this movie are just, very ugly all the way around.

Celebrities: I feel so sorry for these people. Apparently it took 12 years to make this (like, wtf first off), so a lot of the “big names” they got in the day sort of faded away out of the public light. Not that I actually give a shit about it they got paid either way. I just think out of all of them, Wayne Brady was done dirty. He didn’t deserve to be in this movie, he deserves better than having his name listed in FoodFight. Tim Curry is a riot no matter where he goes, still bringing in his Dr. Frank-n-furter Vibes all the way around. And Christopher Lloyd wasn’t in for long, but by god does he leave an impression. A terrifying impression.

Why are actual food brands in this movie? Ms. Butterworth, what are you doing in here? Charlie Tuna, The Pickle Stork, Mr. Clean? I can’t tell if they did them dirty or not because they are barely in the movie anyway. The most screen-time of them went to Mr. Clean just for the bald clean jokes. It’s like playing Where’s Waldo in finding out where the notable brand icons are.

It’s also fun to play “Who the Fuck is that guy?” because there are a lot of brands being parodied here. Captain Crunch turned into Shitty Admiral Chip Peg. Chocola is a disco gay vampire bat. Some weird disturbing french cheese men....no idea who he is for but hey! That’s what the game is for! Trying to see what their ugly abominations were supposed to be in the light of day.

The only “decent” animated characters are the main one: Dex Dog-tective who speaks nothing but puns, every sentence. All the time. You want to start a counter on all the food puns he makes, but you also don’t because I’m sure it’s in the Hundreds. It also doesn’t help that he is like...furry bait? That’s the best way to describe him since he is like the Better animated characters they tried to make him handsome so...furry bait. Then we have Sunshine Goodness who is a terrifying uncanny valley creature which is just an anime catgirl that the animators decide to give up half way and hope her dead eyes give out the allure she has. But uh oh, watch out Sunshine, Lady X of Brand Ex is coming in with her twig-ass Dominatrix Barbie outfit trying to seduce your man...a talking golden retriever. Her dead glass eyes have its sights on seduction and world domination one fetish at a time.

I’m not kidding about the fetishes either, this movie is just throbbing with sexual tension. In the worst way. Like you think the food puns are a lot? Well the sex innuendos are giving them a run for their money. There is so many sex jokes. So many tension of the “oh the bad guy good guy flirt? Hwot” This is supposed to be a kids film and yet you are having jokes of raisins = nipples, chocolate = dicks, "I'll have you roll over and begging for mercy" is too sexually charged for this movie like.....AHHHHH. I fear for the children who learn their kinks through this movie. And that’s just the verbal! The visual is sexy dominatrix. Sexy plaid school girl. Sexy villain nazi-stand-in dominatrix. Sexy Tango. Sexy...sniffing?? God they were trying So so so hard and it pissed me off to no end: 50% in-credulousness because who the hell thought this was a good idea to have kids watching this, 50% anger because I’m somewhat pissed that some unfortunate lines had the gall to be actually good for romantic tension....if it WASN’T TIED TO A BAD FETISH FILM! Like, you can have sexual chemistry, but when sky planes fly out of someone’s vagina you know it’s a fetish film.

But hey, enough stalling, let’s actually talk about the plot of this movie.

It’s Casablanca.

Like dead ass Casablanca.

After losing the love of his life a grizzled detective man ends up running a club where he has to face off against nazis. This is deadass Casablanca where Rick had a dark romantic fling with a nazi at a grocery market. The decisions they went with like the bad rendition of the French National Anthem to be food themed that I could barely hear. Brand X having a nazi-like salute if someone misspelled YMCA with one letter. The...actual weird torture murder scenes? This movie was wild enough, you didn’t need to add in death to the mix. They even had the side characters from Casablanca being in here like the Moose guy being the piano player, and the weasel looking dude being the....weird ass dick weasel in this movie.

And now, some random lines that I liked:

"I just want to be loved"

"Whats the point if having luxurious hair if you can't look yourself in the mirror"

"Oh Yeah, sure, no prob, except I don't have a death wish"

"But you were recalled?! And butt ugly!?"

Overall: I honestly swear to god believe this could and should be the next Rocky Horror Picture Show. This is that level of just...badshit craziness where everything is wrong and beautiful that we can laugh at it all. This needs to have like, it’s own riff track, audience participation, SOMETHING because there is too many golden moments to let it fly by.

If you can get your friends and tell them NOTHING about this movie and see their reactions. Because that is what I’M going to do with mine.

[intothewickedwood]

Once Upon A Time Rewatch: 5x12 Souls of the Departed

Currently reading (well, listening) to The School for Good and Evil Series. It’s so good! It’s basically Wicked the Musical and has a fairy tale element like OUAT. Can’t recommend enough!

I had the weirdest dream last night that Ouat’s Gothel was hiding behind my bed at my old house trying to scare me. She stayed up all night with some blankets, waiting to pounce. Also, she was naked. Jesus Christ, wtf is wrong with my dreams?! I do not see Gothel in that way at all!! I was so freaking disturbed! @fairytalepsuedonym​ this is all your fault for putting that dirty hippie witch bitch on my mind lol xD! /jk

Also guys, we’re getting Disney+ today. I’m so excited! Let me know if anyone has any recommendations.

And you know what I just thought of? It looked like they were implying that Merida and Lord Macintosh were gonna be a thing (possibly? I think it’s up for interpretation) but he outright shot an arrow at one of her brothers and wanted the others dead too. Merida would never! Her brothers mean too much to her to forgive such a thing. Also, she gives me gay vibes. I don’t make the rules. Alistair makes all the rules. 

Back to the rewatch.

Oh yeah! This is the 100th episode! The compilation for 100 episodes was so freaking epic!

Neal! Is that really him though?

She’s staring at his lips lol!

Omg! Emma would have come back for Neal if she could. That means she believes they were true love, and she could have split her heart with him, right?

So, he appeared to her? 

Omg! The way Emma is stroking his face and is staring at him, you’d never know she was working on saving her boyfriend lol.

You know what would have been so much better? If the underworld was perpetually dark and foggy (within reason) like the sims 4 Forgotten Hollow. That would have looked so much cooler!

Here comes the red filter. As a gifmaker and even as a viewer I wanna scream every time I see it but at least it’s not the Dark Swan arc.

I said it before and I’ll say it again: they should have let Regina’s and maybe even Rumple’s victims confront them! That would have been interesting to watch play out. I know we got Regina’s dad and Peter Pan but give me a family of Regina’s slaughtered villagers. What would their reaction be to seeing her?

Eww. I hate the way she dips her finger in that pie.

Guys. It doesn’t matter that you have Regina surrounded, she has pyrokinesis and telekinesis! Y’all are screwed! She blew the flames out? She had the advantage! I’m glad she didn’t hurt them of course, but as someone writing a book that consists of characters with magic abilities, you’ve gotta know when a powerful character has the advantage and when to use it. Where was Snow dodging a fireball as one of her arrows flies at Regina and it pauses in mid air only to sore back at Snowing and their friends, but they manage to outsmart her somehow? 

Woah. This is the boldest Henry Sr. has ever been. He’s really trying to help Regina out here. 

Cora!! My love!! I missed you!!

I love the Blind Witch. Does she have a name? I enjoyed her in ‘Regina Rising.’ I remember she’s quite a bit older than Regina

The Blind Witch: “What can I get you? Do you like gingerbread or children?” Omg Snow’s like “what the actual f**k??”

James, why are you like this?? Get off her, dude.

Those key rings are cool.

Why the hell didn’t Emma just tell Henry she saw his dad? I can think of absolutely no reason why she would keep that from him.

Lately all Robin has done is make random comments pointing out the obvious. “It’s uncanny. It’s so similar yet so off.” Yes, Robin we established that 9 minutes ago. His next line will be, “Goodness, is that a tree over there?” or “Regina, you were the Evil Queen”, mark my words. Where has his personality gone? I was never a big fan but at least he was kinda arrogant and cheeky before, at least in season 2 and 3. Now he’s just a dude that points on the ground and tells you there’s a stone. And they have the chemistry of a banana and a cheese cracker.

“Her puny army of sweaty little child beasts.”

Are those black roses? 

I may be wrong but wasn’t Cora trying to get Regina to stop hunting Snow White and find true love instead in 4x20 or am I making things up? And I wonder if this is before or after she appeared in 4x20. 

I just love Cora so much.

Is that how she got to the EF in 4x20? Through a looking glass?

The fact that she could so easily cross realms suggests that she willingly gave Regina her space. Which is something! But it feels like she’d have ulterior motives for that. Also Jefferson and Rumple would be screaming if they knew it was that easy to cross realms.

Regina: “are you threatening me?” Cora: “No. Of course not, never.” But you literally are though.

Peter Pan! He was under-utilised this season. Come on! They could have done so much with him! I’m glad at least Cora and Cruella got decent screen time.

Imagine watching OUAT for the first time with this episode and you see this full-grown man refer to a teenage boy as is father. I would be so confused lol.

I wonder if Rumple / Rumple’s father hail from Dunbroch originally. You know, with the Scottish accent. I’m kinda thinking about headcanoning that now. At least, I think Malcolm had a Scottish accent?

That got me! I forgot Cora had glamoured into Henry Sr.! I thought Cora had shapeshifted into Snow to trick Henry.

Oh, so Henry Sr. contacting her was the reason Cora could walk through the looking glass. If only someone had contacted Jefferson. And I’ve just remembered that in 4x20, she said a white rabbit brought her to the EF.

Killian looks creepy as hell here!

Lol Cora, you let Henry wrap the heart? What did you expect to happen!

Why did Regina need Snow’s heart to kill her? She could have easily killed her without even touching her. 

What the hell does Snow think is in there? She looks terrified.

Archie, wtf were you doing between Snow’s titties?! And what were you doing with a match? Gonna set some titties on fire xD? I bet she could never look at him the same again. 

He doesn’t want Regina to kill Snow because he thinks it will make her dark forever? What about all the other people she’s killed?! That makes no sense!

Okay, given that Grace didn’t seem to physically age much between the flashbacks in 1x17 and the present day in 1x17, this probably happened after the flashback’s events in 4x20. 

According to wiki, Regina’s birthday is February 1st. I’m only learning this now.

I’ve never seen Henry Sr. so bold and Adam end to help Regina.

Okay, so Regina shrunk Henry with her magic but she needed a mushroom to return him to his normal size?

Don’t lock him in that box omg!!

Cora: “when are you gonna get it in that thick head...” she’s so casually abusive.

Random thought but why is Henry’s surname Mills? It just seems like it’d be Cora’s surname. Maybe he took hers on but that seems strange for a Prince to do.

Cora, don’t!

Henry’s alright!

Aww. Henry got to meet his 3rd Grandpa! He’s so happy she named him after him. 

I’m tearing up.

“Remember who you are, Regina.”

Henry, honey, you need to go home.

Is that Persephone?

Oh my God! I’m so excited for the Cora and Zelena stuff!! By far my favourite thing of the season! To hear Cora say Zelena’s name- the fact she knows her name- I’d waited for so long for this! It left open so many questions!

And Hades infuriated with Cora on the love of his life Zelena’s behalf!! He loved her so much and would do anything for her. I don’t ship it as much as I initially did because of how it ended but that man freaking loved and cherished Zelena. He wanted everything for her. She desperately needed that and it was an emotional experience to see her get it.

That’s like her worst nightmare, being a peasant again. 

I can’t with the flame hair.

I forgot this episode was pretty good. I didn’t remember liking it but Cora saved it for me. I forgot she was in it because I have probably watch season 5 the least as I try to avoid it lol. 

[crystalninjaphoenix]

Hey so I just finished binge-reading the Horror Septics for Halloween (LOVE it btw, so spooky and scary) and the last mini short story got me thinking. What exactly is up with Sangria's face? If it freaked someone out so much that they didn't pay attention to the stairs nearby, it must be bad.

Thank you anon! I try very hard to make the horrors really scary ^-^ As for your question:

I like to keep details like that vague, so the readers can fill it in with whatever's the worst to them ;) But I can tell you, it's not exactly scary. Not in a terrifying or horrifying way. It's just...wrong. You know how you can look at something and sometimes tell something is off? Like the uncanny valley effect. Or like how you walk into a familiar room but someone moved all the furniture slightly and nothing looks weird at first but you just get a feeling. Sangria's face under its hood is that, multiplied to the extreme. You look at it, and you just know this thing is not supposed to be here. Or you are not supposed to be here. You are so deeply unsettled that the flight instinct kicks in, urging you to get the hell out of there. Nothing else matters in that moment. Only getting away, in some way or another. If you survive, which is rare because Sangria really doesn't like word of its face getting around, you'll live with that memory for the rest of your life, and you'll never quite be the same again.

Well that veered off into creative writing XD I've been listening to too much WtNV apparently. Anyway, if you like the horror septics, be excited for Halloween! If all goes well, the next part of the story will come out then :D