#also really wanted to do it with patrick all bloody too but he just.. moved way too much

[alonetogether]

two sides of the same coin

#fall out boy #fob #patrick stump #pete wentz #peterick #save rock and roll #ybc #youngblood chronicles #fob8 #so much for stardust #i so wanted to do this with miss missing you mv but the camera is exceptionally shaky in that mv to spite ME #also really wanted to do it with patrick all bloody too but he just.. moved way too much #my edits

[viandclintbarton-supremacy]

The New Boy (Male Reader x Damage Control)

It was just another action packed night at Monday Night Raw when Austin Thoery wanted to gloat about his victory over John Cena and mock him by delivering an open challenge to anyone in the back.

as people wanted eagerly waiting to see who it was. A new signing? a NXT callup? but confusing would shock the crowd as Damage Control's music would play and out came the members of the faction.

Bayley: "Oh Austin Theory, i must say it was pretty impressive to see you beat that dork John Cena last night" Austin smiled at the comment

Austin:" Thank you Bayley, Too bad i can'r say the same to you guys though. kinda embarrassing" All 3 members gave Austin a look screamed really?. Bayley would recover by laughing sarcastically

Bayley: "Anyway, We aren't out here to congratulate you, thats for someone else…ya dummy" The crowd murmured as Austin would look confused. "You see, you do have a opponent that will answer your open challenge for your United States Championship. You see dummy, me and my girls were talking something wasnt right with Damage Control. So we talked and talked and what we figured out was, whilst we are taking over the Women's division…..who is gonna take over the men's division. The crowd perked up. A new member? a male member?? Austin looked disinterested whilst Iyo and Kai were smiling "Not only that in the past this man has also beaten John Cena and in way more convincing fashion then you" Austin looked annoyed "

Austin: "Oh wow amazing, just get the chump out already"

Bayley:" Ok touchy touchy. Dummies all over the world, please welcome the newest member of Damage Control!!!!!" Bayley would point to the entrance and Iyo and Kay would be clapping

The were looking at the entrance many notice a figure on the apron behind Thoery. Bayley would laugh and turn to Thoery

Bayley: "HAHAHAHAHAHA GOT YA DUMMY. WHY YOU LOOKING OVER HERE! DING DONG LOOK BEHIND YOU DUMMY" Austin would turn around whilst being confused and was it with a spring board blockbuster by a hooded figure.

Graves: "WHAT THE HELL"

Saxton: "Thoery just got ambushed by someone, who is apparently the newsiest member of Damage Control?"

The crowd cheered at the move and waited to see who it was but the figure started to relentlessly attack theory with stomps and kicks. Thoery wasnt ready to be hit with a powerful spinebuster, the move making all the pain from his match with Cena kick up again. Wobbly and could barely stand up was grabbed by the jaw by the hooded figure

???:" WHERE IS THE BLOODY REF!!!" The man screamed as a referee slid into the ring past Damage Control who were now ringside. The referee tried to pull the man away from Theory "RING THE BELL OR I WILL RING YOURS" The referee who was scared by the man gave in and rang the bill. But during this Austin couldn't help but recognise that voice. The crowd was clearly invested by the man

Iyo Sky: "Finish it!" Iyo shouted as Kai was taunting fans and Bayley was laughing.

The figure went to move his hood and the crowd were excited

The hood came off

Crowd pop

Graves: "OH MY GOD"

Patrick: "HIS BACK!!!"

Saxton: "Y/N IS BACK!!"

Amongst the cheers were Damage Control were cheering Y/N whilst Austin would be in shock and sadness even though he was feeling faint

Patrick:" BUT WHY, Y/N AND AUSTIN ARE ALMOST LIKE BROTHERS"

Saxton: "Yes the duo were apart of the way and carried NXT tag team gold"

Graves :" You just said it, Gold. He wants the United States Championship. and it looks like he is gonna bring it to his new family of damage control" Y/N picked up Austin and hit him with a Rock Bottom. "Oh! the Deadend"

1

2

3

Crowd cheers

Y/N stands over Theory as he is handed the US title by Bayley who snatched it from the referee. The faction laughed as Y/N held the title above his after a minute of taking it i. Bayley once more grabbed the mic.

Bayley: "Give it up for the NEWWWWWW UNITED STATES CHAMPION DUMMIES!!!"

The crowd cheers with some boos! Bayley then got infront of the camera

Bayley: "THIS IS ONLY THE START! DAMAGE CONTROL IS GOING NOWHERE" The group of 4 stood tall and mighty ready to take on anyone

#wwe rpg #wwe imagine #wwe raw #women of wwe #damage control #damage ctrl #bayley #bayley imagine #dakota kai #dakota kai imagine #iyo sky #iyo ski imagine #male reader

[hookedonapirate]

A Date for the Holidays (and everyday too would be nice)

Summary: Tired of the constant backlash from her family about being single, Emma finds herself striking an arrangement with a roguishly handsome stranger at the mall the day after Christmas. Now she won’t have to be alone for the holidays. Emma and Killian agree to be each other’s dates, no strings attached, no commitment, no pressure. Just two friends getting together to appease her annoying family and get his brother off his back. It’s the perfect setup really...until sticking to the holidays isn’t enough. What happens when they both want more?

Holidate AU

A/N: So I watched the Holidate the other night and couldn't stop thinking about how much fun it would be to turn this into a CS fic. So here we are. This probably won't be too long, I'll be getting back to my wips soon, just needed a break, but probably 4 or 5 chapters or so. Hope you enjoy! Thank you to the ladies on Discord for your encouragement and enabling ;-)

Thank you to the lovely @veryverynotgood for beta reading!

Catch up: Ch 1 // Ch 2 // Ch 3 // Ch 4 // Ch 5 // Ch 6 // Ch 7 // Ch 8 // Ch 9 // Ch 10 // Ch 11

Also available on: AO3 // FF.N

Chapter 4

Saint Patrick’s Day

“Chug! Chug! Chug!” the crowd chants around the table as Emma downs the large tumbler of beer as fast as she can.

She slams the empty glass down in victory, throwing her hands in the air as everyone cheers.

A woman who can drink her weight in beer is his kind of lass, but this is once again just a holidate. Killian can’t, however, help but notice how cute she looks in her green wig and the green t-shirt he’d picked out. Emma’s reads, He’s my lucky charm, with a leprechaun hand pointing to the right and he has a matching one that reads, She’s my lucky charm, with the hand pointing to the left.

When they texted each other a few days ago to make plans, she tried to get out of wearing green, saying her eyes were green, so it counts. While it’s true—her eyes are green, and a mesmerizing shade at that—he was making her wear the color. All he had to do to convince her was remind her she’d get pinched if she didn’t wear it.

When a hand pounds his shoulder, Killian gasps and spins around, surprised to see Liam standing there. He wasn’t aware his brother would be here; he figured Liam would be at the shop working. He pretty much lives there.

“Hey, little brother,” Liam says with a grin, pulling him into a side hug. “So this is why you took the day off of work, huh?” he asks, his eyes moving over to Emma.

“Aye,” Killian answers with a shy smile. “And it's younger brother.”

Curiosity dances in Liam's eyes as he looks at Emma. “Who’s your friend?”

Stepping next to her, Killian wraps his arm around her shoulders. “Liam, this is Emma. Emma, this is Liam.”

“Ah, so you’re the infamous Emma my brother can’t stop talking about!” Liam practically shouts for the entire pub to hear as he shakes her hand.

Killian grimaces; his brother’s always finding some way to embarrass the bloody hell out of him.

“Nice to meet you.”

Blush paints her cheeks as she releases his hand and smirks. “Really? He talks about me, huh?”

Liam nods, still grinning from ear to ear. “Sure does. I can’t get him to shut up about you.”

“Good things, I hope?” she asks curiously.

“Oh yes, of course.”

Killian narrows his eyes at Liam. He hasn’t really spoken that much about Emma, only mentioned he’d gone with her to the Skyfall party and that he had a date with her on Valentine’s Day, even though he didn’t actually have plans and even though it wasn’t actually a date. Unless you consider a dashing rescue and stuffing your faces with chocolate together in the parking garage at the mall a date. But he knew Liam would try to set him up with someone otherwise.

“How about another drink, love?” Killian asks Emma, changing the subject.

“Yes, please. I’ll take a margarita.”

“You got it.”

“Sounds like a two-man job.” Liam claps a hand on Killian’s shoulder. “I’ll go with you.”

As his brother follows him across the bar, Killian refrains from groaning.

“She’s cute,” Liam comments as they reach the counter.

Killian gasps as though he didn’t realize how attractive she is. “Really? I didn’t know that,” he says sarcastically. Only she’s not just cute. “She’s bloody gorgeous.”

“So, what’s going on between you two?”

With both hands, Killian points at his shirt. “What, our t-shirts didn’t give us away?”

Liam leans against the bar counter, eyeing his brother suspiciously. “Come on, little brother, you’re not fooling anyone.”

Pretending not to know what he’s referring to, Killian furrows his brows. “What do you mean?”

“If you two were dating, then why aren’t you always grinning like a lovesick puppy dog when you come into work everyday like when you were with Milah? And why do you only ask for holidays off?”

Killian sighs, knowing he won’t be able to bullshit his way out of this one. Not to his brother, at least.

“So, what’s the real deal? Is it like friends with benefits?”

Killian shakes his head. “No benefits. We’re just friends who only hang out on the holidays.”

Liam furrows his brows in confusion. “So then, what’s the bloody point?”

The bartender comes over to take their orders and once he leaves, Killian turns back to his brother, sighing in defeat. “The point is, I’m here with someone and having fun.” He emphasizes the word fun as if that’s his brother’s biggest concern. “And you’re not parading me around the bar and forcing my number on anyone with two x chromosomes.”

Liam doesn’t even bother to deny it, but he doesn’t seem too happy about the situation, which is exactly why Killian didn’t tell him what was going on. Ever since Milah broke his heart, Liam’s made it his mission to find his brother a suitable girlfriend. Killian’s sure Liam only does it so he can avoid having to face his own personal issues and find a suitable girlfriend himself. He dates occasionally, but there’s never been anyone serious.

When they return with the drinks, the three of them find a table to sit at. Thankfully, Liam doesn’t mention what Killian told him, but he does find every opportunity to embarrass the hell out of him by telling her childhood stories.

“We’re rolling out!” someone hollers, and Emma and Killian stand from the table, following the crowd to the next bar. Thankfully, Liam doesn’t tag along; he says he’s too old to bar crawl. Killian doesn’t argue.

By the time they enter their fifth and final bar, Emma and Killian are both pretty tipsy and thankful they had Ubered to the first bar, as neither of them is sober enough to drive.

The Wild Bull Saloon is known for having the best entertainment in Storybrooke, with live music, the best beer and as the name suggests, a mechanical bull. It’s crowded and loud and the alcohol flowing through him has made him a little loopy and terribly flirty with Emma, who’s been giving it right back to him. But it’s difficult to have a deep conversation with her when they have to shout over the music, which means he’s had fewer chances of discussing anything too personal with the dangerously beautiful woman who’s been hanging on his arm all night so she doesn’t fall over. It’s probably a good thing they can’t have any serious conversations because then he might fall even more in the deep end than he already is. He hates that they only text each other to make plans for the holidays. He hates he can only see her on the holidays, so he’s had to convince himself he’s completely okay with this arrangement.

“Uh-uh, there is no way in hell I’m getting on that thing!” Emma shakes her head, adamantly refusing to ride it. A flirty smirk tilts her lips as she leans into him, placing her palms on his chest. “Besides, I can think of something else I’d rather ride.”

Killian’s face flames, and as much as he’d love to explore that idea, she’s obviously drunk. It’s definitely the alcohol talking. “Oh, come on, why not, love?” he teases as he grabs her hands, partly because he loves it when her hands are in his and partly so he doesn’t fall over. “Have you ever ridden before...a bull I mean?” he clarifies, clearing his throat, definitely not picturing her riding him. They said friends with no benefits, he reminds himself.

“Nope, and I don’t plan to tonight...or ever.”

“Come on, you never forget your first,” he says, wagging his brows.

Emma sighs dramatically. “Are you gonna do it, too?”

“If it means you will, then sure.”

“It looks like the record of the night is thirteen seconds. Think you can beat it?”

“Oh love, I’m a bull riding champion,” Killian smirks.

“Uh-huh, I’ll believe that when I see it,” Emma says doubtfully.

“I’ll get us another drink, then I’ll be back to watch you fall off that thing. Don’t start without me, love!” he calls out over his shoulder as he heads toward the bar counter, leaving Emma at the end of the line.

He returns with two beers; he figures it might be smart to get away from the hard liquor before things between him and Emma get too carried away. It’s bad enough he has to fight his feelings for her while he’s sober, but it’s even more difficult when the alcohol is doing all the thinking for him.

When it’s her turn, he grabs her hand and drags her up to the guy operating the bull. “Put it on the fastest speed possible.”

Emma’s eyes widen as she gapes at him and smacks his arm. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Oh, come on, love, I believe in you. You said yourself you’re good with hand jobs. Surely you can hold onto a bull for a few seconds.”

She rolls her eyes. “That’s a little different.”

He holds their drinks with a big grin on his face as he watches Emma enter the bullring. She shoots him a venomous glare, which only makes him smile even more as he flashes her a wink.

“You got this, babe!” he hollers, hearing the timer countdown.

When the buzzer goes off, the bull begins to rock back and forth, slowly at first before picking up speed. Emma’s holding on for dear life, one hand in the air as the other clings to the handle of the bull.

The music and cheering crowd fade into the background as he watches her every move, enjoying how she squeezes her legs to stay on and how she struggles at first, but then quickly gets used to the speed and how the machine jolts back and forth. Her tongue keeps darting out between her beautiful pink lips as she focuses on not falling off.

He’s not sure if it’s the alcohol in him, but watching Emma ride that bull in her tight-ass jeans, her hips rocking back and forth in rhythm with the machine, resembling the thrusts he can definitely imagine happening if she were riding him instead, is making his heart race and his dick grow hard.

Fuck.

Emma being flung off the bull, the sound of the buzzer and the announcement that she beat the record of the night by two seconds pull him back to reality. He quickly sets the drinks on a nearby table and hurries over to help Emma up.

“Whoooooop!” she cheers, raising the hand that’s holding Killian’s. She dizzily points at him with her free hand. “Beat that, cowboy!”

He takes off his green hat, handing it to her, and as he takes his turn, he can feel Emma’s eyes on him. After he mounts the bull, he looks out into the crowd and sees Emma watching him and cheering him on as the operator presses the button. The bull is now moving, and he raises an arm in the air, holding on with the other hand. Soon the room is spinning around him, and he realizes he’s drunker than he thought and starts to feel a bit queasy. He tried so hard to bury his feelings for a certain blonde with rum, he didn’t realize how much he actually drank. Soon the bull picks up speed and before he knows it, he’s flying in the air and landing on the mat, the room spinning around him.

~🍀~

The ceiling fan spinning slowly and his shirt hanging from one of the blades is the first thing he sees when he drags one eye open the next morning.

He groans, wondering where he is as he opens his other eye and tries to blink away the sleepiness. His head is pounding like a hammer, nausea lingering in his stomach.

It takes a minute for his eyes to adjust to the blinding light streaming through the window, but when everything comes into focus, there are a few things he quickly realizes. One, this is not his apartment, two he’s lying on a couch covered in a blanket—not even his own couch at that—and three, there’s a pair of lacy red thongs lying on the coffee table.

Panic rushes through him as he blinks and scans the room to make sure he’s not hallucinating or dreaming, but nope, this is definitely real. He’s just trying to figure out where the bloody hell he is, how he ended up here and who’s panties those are.

Did he sleep with someone last night?

The last thing he remembers is flying off the mechanical bull.

Everything after that is a blur.

When he hears someone gasp, he lifts his head, his eyes falling to the floor. His heart leaps into his throat when he sees long, gorgeous legs and a pile of blonde curls on the floor.

He gulps.

It’s Emma.

Now he knows who those knickers belong to. He just doesn’t know how she got out of them. Well, he can imagine how she got out of them.

Fuck.

“Hello…” He means it to sound much more cheerful than it comes out, but his voice is hoarse and cracked with sleep.

He’s hoping she’ll remember something, but when he sees her looking around the room just as puzzled as he is, he knows she doesn’t.

“Uh, hi…” she finally says.

“You’re on the floor.”

“Yes, I uh…” She squeezes her eyes shut briefly and opens them, using the coffee table and couch to push herself up into a sitting position. And that’s when he notices she’s wearing a lacy red bra. So at least she’s not completely naked...well, he doesn’t know if that’s a good thing or a bad thing. No, that’s definitely a good thing, he convinces himself. “I remember falling off the couch and it just seemed like...it seemed like a lot of work to get back up.” She rests her elbows on her knees and buries her face in her hands.

Wait.

She fell off the couch? He scans the sofa, taking in its size. His feet are hanging off it, so he has no idea how she even fit on the couch with him. She must have been sleeping on top of him.

Yep, they definitely slept together.

“So, I guess we might have…”

“No. We didn’t.” She scoffs out a laugh, as though the idea is both humorous and unheard of.

His heart sinks at her reaction.

She groans, slowly pushing herself off the floor.

Killian’s eyes widen when he scans her form and realizes she’s wearing his boxers. Which means he is completely naked underneath the blanket.

Just bloody perfect.

He points at her, knitting his brows together. “You’re wearing my knickers.”

Emma looks down at herself and gasps, her eyes widening when she sees she’s not wearing the red thongs on the coffee table. Instead, she’s wearing the boxers he always wears on St. Patrick’s Day. They’re white with green shamrocks, and the front reads, rub for good luck. He almost snorts out a laugh when he sees them on Emma.

“That doesn’t mean anything. I...” she throws up her hands, searching around for her clothes, “probably just got cold in the night…” Her words trail off when she spots her panties lying on the coffee table and snatches them up, “after my…panties fell off.” She hides the flimsy fabric behind her back and scurries backward toward the recliner chair in the corner of the room.

“Come on, love. You must be able to tell somehow.”

“Tell how, exactly?” She ducks down to change into her panties.

He shrugs. “I don’t know, I don’t have a vagina.”

Emma pops her head up from the back of the chair, pinning him with a deadly glare. “Well, there’s no forensic evidence if that’s what you’re wondering.” She looks down to inspect herself. “Nothing’s dried on my leg, there’s no wrapper on the floor, no lingering scent. I mean, I feel a little sore between my legs, but that could be from the mechanical bull.” She picks up the boxers she removed from herself and whips them at him. He flinches when his underwear hits him in the chest. “Can’t you tell?” she asks frantically, grabbing the bathrobe draped over the chair.

He tilts his head and lifts the knitted blanket to look underneath at himself. He shrugs, not noticing anything amiss. “I mean, he looks a little tired, but...I don’t think he’s really satisfied,” he comments, sounding a little bummed. But to be honest, he’s relieved, because if he were to be with Emma, he’d sure as hell want to remember it.

“I’m telling you, we didn’t do it,” she states adamantly, stepping out from behind the chair, now in her bathrobe.

A spark of hope lights up inside him at her certainty. “Do you remember something about last night?”

She shakes her head, and suddenly that hope dims. “No, do you?”

“I don’t remember much past the mechanical bull.”

“Okay, uh…I think you texted your brother, and he got us an Uber? We came back here but I don’t remember much after that…I’m pretty sure nothing happened between us.”

“Alright.” Killian nods, hoping that’s the case. He’s willing to believe they didn’t do anything last night if she is. He already has to shove down his feelings for her, and sleeping with her will completely ruin him, because something tells him he wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings after that. “Let’s go with that, love.”

“Great.” Emma nods in agreement, plastering on a smile as if the morning is completely normal. “Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Cream?” she asks, making a beeline across the living room toward the kitchen.

“No, just black, thank you.”

“Sounds good.”

Once she’s in the kitchen, he scrubs his hands over his face, not believing how this morning began. He gets up from the couch, not even bothering to keep himself covered with the blanket since she’s busy preparing the coffee maker. But when he bends down to pull on his boxers, he can feel her eyes on his bare ass. When he cranes his head to look at her, she quickly averts her gaze and appears to be all flustered, moving around the kitchen like a chicken with the head cut off.

“Do you have another one of those robes, love?”

“Uh, yeah...let me get it for you.” She dashes off to her bedroom and returns with a pink robe and a little smirk on her face.

He chuckles, his cheeks heated as she hands it to him.

“Sorry, it’s the only other one I have.”

But he’s not complaining because when he wraps it around himself, it’s soft and comfortable and smells like her. Plus, he gets to spend a morning with her on a non-holiday, which is nice, even if it is a bit awkward.

He doesn’t remind her it’s not a holiday, though.

#cs ff #captain swan #holidate au

[revchainsaw]

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind (1984)

Prayers and Salutations Cult Members! I am your mysterious minister Reverend Chainsaw and this is another nights revival service at the Cult Film Tent Revival. I bring you a special word tonight. Tonight's word is about a person who roamed the earth, in a time where people were backward and warlike. A leader emerged into a kingdom full of eschatological expectation. This leader came preaching peace, and was killed for the sins of the world, but was resurrected. In that resurrection a new hope was brought to the planet, and true healing through the power of love in the face of violence is made possible. I am talking of course about Princess Nausicaa from the Valley of the Wind.

The Message

Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is the film that put studio Ghibli and Hayoa Miyazaki on the map. No animated feature this grandiose and epic had been achieved by 1984, as much as Disney may beg to differ. The tale may be simple, and it may feel super 80s to us today, but Nausicaa is a masterpiece, and the fact that Howl's Moving Castle is brought up alongside Princess Mononoke and Spirited Away more often than Nausicaa is a farce and a tragedy.

The film takes place on a fantastic planet that seems to have suffered the ravages of an apocalyptic war. A war that involved gigantic warriors with powers so devastating they about made the entire planet inhospitable if not uninhabitable; save for a few areas. The fall out of this ancient war has left the earth in a state of repair, where the natural processes of a planet healing has creating giant toxic jungles.

Beyond these jungles lie two imperialistic factions, they seem almost to be city-states but it's not terribly clear. The Kingdom of Tolmekia, a militaristic proto-fascist society of almost Spartan sensibilities. Tolmekia is governed by the ambitious and cynical Princess Kushana, But I like to call her Furiosa. Just like Furiosa, Kushana is physically missing parts of herself, a visual metaphor for her metaphysical lacking and the parts of her humanity she has cut away. Kushana's world view is one of fear, a fear that can only be quelled by waging a genocidal campaign against her enemies.

Speaking of enemies, the Athens to Tolmekias Sparta would be the Pejite Kingdom. The Pejites might like to view themselves as simply responding to Tolmekian aggression, but the narrative of the film, and the story told quite visibly on the body of Kushana, is quite different. The Pejites are just as bloodthirsty if not more palettable in their approach, but like the Tolmekians, they believe only their own lives have any value. And thus, in this theatre of war, a Giant Warrior from the ages before is unearthed by the Pejite Kingdom, Stolen by the Tolmekians, before the forces of nature themselves, seem to conspire to drop the Giant Warriors "egg" right into the Valley of the Wind.

The Valley of the Wind is populated like the world of Avatar the Last Airbender, that is mostly of children and the elderly. The people of the Valley have been able to remain untouched by the ravages of war and the toxic jungles of the damaged world primarily due to geographic luck that's explained in minor exposition in the film. They are ruled by a King, and they are all deeply enamored by their beloved Princess Nausicaa.

Nausicaa is a gentle soul. She is kind to animals, she is empathetic, unreasonably patient, and bears pain and grief inflicted on her out of cruelty with a saintly understanding. She really is a thinly veiled Christ figure, scratch that. There is no veil. But she's also my favorite Christ figure. She does not preach a message, as much as she tries to save everyone from their own short sighted goals. She is not perfect, she does lash out and do some fantasy sword fight murder, but she regrets her actions so deeply that it seems to have played a part in motivating her to become even more compassionate and patient with the evils of the world.

Nausicaa discovers yet another plot by the Pejites, who are afraid of the possibility of the Tolmekians awakening the Giant Warrior, to use animal cruelty to enrage a group of almost invincible giant insects known as the Ohm. By luring the Ohm into the Valley of the Wind where the Tolmekians have become an occupying force, they hope to completely wipe out everything that threatens them. The Tolmekians DO awaken the Giant Warrior and pure pandemonium ensues. Nausicaa manages to save the Baby Ohm and calm the rage of the bloodthirsty Ohm swarm, and to defeat the warlike tendencies of both the Pejites and the Tolmekians. All the while fulfilling a prophecy fortold about a messianic savior figure called the Man in Blue.

Now that you have heard the Gospel of Nausicaa, please stand to receive The Benediction.

Best Character: Half a Person

Now that I've spent the better part of this review gushing about our Lord and savior Nausicaa. I have to admit, she's at times a bit too perfect, a bit too saccharin. Even her flaw, or her one weakness and her failing to be perfect, just adds to the perfection. I can't even say she never makes mistakes cuz she made one, and that's infuriating. It's even more infuriating that I still think she's a great character. Normally this kind of thing really kills a hero. Most Chosen Ones are the most boring and least likeable characters in their narratives. I don't know how Nausicaa avoids this trap, but she does. I'll have to do some meditating on that.

However, just like in your typical Chosen One fantasy narrative, the hero is a lot less fun than the villain. I'm going to say the best character in Nausicaa is Kushana. I want to be like Nausicaa, but I don't understand her. She's almost alien, even though we learn all about her. Kushana is mysterious, secretive, and enigmatic, yet I understand her. She barely has an arc, she doesn't really change. She's cold and cynical to the bone, but I don't need to see much of her situation to completely understand why she is the way she is. I usually hate totalitarian bad guys, but Kushana I like. Sue Me.

Also fun fact, did you that Nausicaa means 'Sinker of Ships'. That's kinda fun.

Best Scene: Spoiled for Choice

I'm going to be lazy and say take your pick. There is really not a bad seen in this movie. If the action isn't going, then there's intriguing dialogue. If there's no dialogue then you may be about to get hit with a forceful burst of whimsy. There's horror, there's swordfights and aerial dogfights. The only thing in Nausicaa I don't like to see, is the bloody tortured Ohm Baby. It's like a god damned Sarah Mclachlan commercial.

Best Creature: Foxy Shazam!

The Ohm are so simplistic yet so detailed. The number of eyes is alien, but the way they are used is expertly expressive. Who'd think you could get me to love what basically amounts to a silverfish with the intensity that I love a kitten. How did Miyazaki pull an Okja with a creature that should be haunting our dreams? I don't know.

And what about the Giant Warrior! If you are an Evangelion fan then you probably already know that Hideaki Anno designed and animated the melting goopy biomechanical beast. Surely a sight that would make both H.R. Giger and Clive Barker giddy with excitement. Just the image of the silhouettes marching amidst the desolation of the old world is burned into my brain.

So which of these is the best creature from Ghibli's first outing? It's fucking Teto. It was always gonna be Teto you idiot. Just look at Teto, he's adorable. He's too cute to exist. I'm so alone. I need a pet.

Best Character Design: Tolmekian Regalia

I originally included this category to talk some about Kushana, however, at that time I also thought I was going to say Nausicaa was the best character. I thought hard about deleting it, but I think it's a different category and you can't accuse me of playing favorites because my favorite character is clearly Teto. Just to keep it simple. It's the two costume shift from full military regalia in white and gold, to the one metal arm, warrior princess get up. It's a great costume and a great look. Get on this shit cosplay nerds. It's great for Cons in Canada, you have to think about layers, and you can't keep going as Mr. Plow. It's lazy.

Best Excuse to Talk About Patrick Stewart's Character: Lord Yupa

I just realized that I was about to write this whole review without talking about Lord Yupa. Lord Yupa is a sword saint and all around badass I think a lot of entertainment, especially in the west is lacking bad ass old men. Lord Yupa particularly shines in the early half of the film as a warrior and as a wise council to Nausicaa. If she's Jesus then Yupa is John the Baptist. He is also voiced by the elegant and eloquent Patrick Stewart. He also comes with 2 chocobos!

Worst Character: For Whom Asbel Tolls

This might also be the worst actor category as well. Actual Cannibal (haha meme) and actual monster (haha real life) Shia Labeouf doesn't so much act in the role as he read the lines and it was recorded. The good news it doesn't effect the film too much because Asbel is completely forgettable. He is a catalyst to some of the action, but besides that I don't really care for him.

Worst Aspect: To Be Fair ...

It would be unfair to completely ignore anything negative about Nausicaa. I have already mentioned in many places that there are some pretty corny, or pretty predictable tropes to this movie. But what I can't capture in words is exactly why it feels fresh when it's done in this movie. I suppose that's what makes it good. It's just so good that it's weak points are lifted up by it's strengths. Some people may bored of Nausicaa's unyielding goodness, or that she very rarely chooses to take action as much as she chases and pleads with her surroundings, but I mean, she does pay for that eventually. It's a fantasy story and it hits a lot of timeless themes that have been hit in stories for as long as human beings have been telling stories. Some people may feel that it doesn't do enough to stand out.

Summary

I have defined the S tier for myself as "near perfect and personal favorite" films. I like to think that Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is near perfect. Some may say that it looks like it might just be a personal favorite. In the case of Nausicaa, I'm having a very hard time telling the difference. I think it would be overly simple to claim that Nausicaa is just an ancient archetypal heroes journey with an 80s anime coat of paint. I think it's doing quite a few new and interesting things with that formula, those things are just playing out all around that narrative as opposed to being at it's center. For a first full length outing by the studio, you can really see Miyazaki's heart and the values he holds close to. I'll repeat myself so that we are completely clear on the matter. I think Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind is a near perfect movie.

Overall Grade: S

#Nausicaa #Nausicaa and the Valley of the Wind #SciFi #retro scifi #Fantasy #post apocalyptic #hayao miyazaki #miyazaki #studio ghibli #ghibli #S #Grade S #Grade: S #1980s #1984 #anime #animation #japan #japanese #(S)

[monicawoe]

Supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 12/20/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Closer Than You Think - Five times Sam’s eyes were demonic, and one time they weren’t. (3k words, boyKingSam AUs of multiple eps)

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU.  Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver​)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver​ for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

Best Self - written for @alyndra9​​  for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver​​! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver​ for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling  Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester​ who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell:  Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins​ Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes.   (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis​ - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean​​ - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.    After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver​ -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960​  - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver​, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver​ AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver​ When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver​ The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver​ Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU  -  Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror) 

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #spn fics #king of hell sam #dean winchester #monicawoe's fics

[whole-lotta-hoes]

Whole Lotta Hoes| Crack Fanfic Mini Series

Episode One: Zeppelin Is No More

Episode Two: Looking For A Job

Episode Three: Gettin The Cash

Episode Four:

Episode Five:

Warning:

This will cause you to lose a couple of brain cells and fall into a long state of confusion for a very long time. It'll also include weird shit and things that don't make sense at all. Read at your own risk.

Cast:

john paul jones (main character)

jimmy page

john bonham

robert plant

------------------

It was a dark rainy night. The pub was filling up with a bunch of horny mother fuckers. jonesy and the dumbass robert stood behind the curtains waiting to be called in to perform.

"ah man! this is going to be splendid!" robert said as he jumped in excitement. jonesy pushed him and he died. he fixed his high heels to make sure he doesn't break his ankles this time haha. mf jonesy made his way to the pole and placed a hand on it.

"WAIT-" robert yelled as he ran to him. he didn't see where he was going so he bumped into jonesy and made him fall into the crowd.

"I am the one and only, robert plant. I AM THE BITCH-" he shouted as he began to spin on the pole. jonesy could not believe his eyes. that mf plant took the spotlight from him. everyone started cheering for him and throwing him dollar bills.

"YOU BLOODY WANKER!!" jonesy yelled only to get drowned by the crowd. robert then climbed on the pole and began to do some sexy and hot moves against the pole. Heck he even licked it.

"TAKE YOUR PANTS OFF!!" someone yelled as they threw cash at robert. robert looked at the person and stopped dancing.

"what the fuck? i didn't come here to strip you whore!" he kicked the person with his heel and stormed off. jonesy pushed threw the crowd and managed to get to the front.

"jesus christ percy!! get your asshole back here!" he yelled. john climbed onto the stage and sprinted to the back. once he was back there, he spotted robert crying in front of some vanity. jonesy stood behind him and placed a hand on his shoulder.

"oh jonesy!" robert cried. "i can't do this! i don't want to strip for hungry motherfuckers! its so nasty! i rather strip for my precious jim jam!" he added as he wiped his tears with a tissue. jonesy rubbed his back to comfort him. he truly felt awful about it. how are they going to get the cash now if robert anthony plant doesn't want to do his job right. also since led zeppelin is dead once and for all. jonesy got an idea.

"hey! i know what you can do!" he said in excitement. robert looked at him and OMG JONESY YOU CUTE MF AWWW! "you can be a hooker!" he suggested. robert turned away from jonesy and looked at himself in the mirror. he totally could. hes hot and charming in some way. anyone would want to get a piece of that. robert stood from his seat and AHHHH BIG HOE. he looked at jonesy and gave him a big ol hug.

"JONESY! YOU ARE A GENIUS!!" he shouted. jonesy lost the ability to breathe so he died. robert dropped him and said his farewells.

"well jonesy, it was nice working with ya, glad jaime brought you in," he said as he sat john on a chair.

"wait where in bloody hell are you going?" he asked. robert looked at him confused.

"bitch, me and pagey are going to start a new group called page plant penis," he responded. of course. of course they would. these mfs are too invested in themselves that they would overthrow john paul jones in the bathroom of wendys. that infuriated him. he reached into his trousers and took out his laser penis.

"woah hey! im not trying to get laid by a-"

PEW PEW PEW PEW

robert stood there in complete shock.

"did you- did you just attempt to murder my sexy ass!?" he yelled in anger. jonesy began to regret even doing that. a bright light was building up from robert that almost blinded john. robert is indeed a golden god. he floated off of the ground and gained powers to end jonesy once and for all. john had to act fast. he can't die like this. it would be such an embarrassing thing to end up in the media.

"HOLD IT!" jonesy yelled. robert placed his attention to him and waited for jonesy to speak.

"is this how we are going to end it? is this what we really want?" he said softly. robert's angry expression grew softer. was he really going to kill his bandmate? his best friend? he slowly got to the ground and stood in front of john.

"my god jonesy...." he began, "you're right... what am i doing? im such a monster," he added as tears ran down his face. jonesy slowly walked up to him and stuck his hand out with a smile on his face.

"c'mon buddy, let's go back to what we were doing," he added. robert looked at johns hand with a skeptical look.

"nah bitch! me, jimby and bonzo are going to do a led zeppelin reunion!" robert explained.

"a wha-"

"yeah! a motherfucking led zeppelin reunion!! can you believe it jonesy!? led zeppelin has become even bigger than we thought! bigger than those bloody rolling stones and ziggy stardust spider fuckers!" he rambled.

at that very moment, john paul jones knew he has been betrayed by his own band. he felt like destroying everything that came in front of him. percy for example is in front of him. anger and rage built up in his system. he could not believe that his own band would turn against him. who tf did they think they were? without any hesitation, john gripped onto roberts neck, silently choking him and ending robert plant for realzies this time. he went unconscious and dropped to the floor. jonesy placed a tarp to cover roberts body and headed through the exit. he was going to find james patrick page and john henry bonham to end it once and for all.

or will he?

#led zeppelin #robert plant #jimmy page #john paul jones #john bonham #led zeppelin fanfic #fanfic #crack fanfic #fanfiction #cursed post #cursed content

[anakin-danvers]

night in 79′s

Anakin Skywalker x fem!reader

gif credit to owner!

Request: “Congrats on 100 again!!! Look at you 🤧🤧 im so proud, a queen getting the recognition she deserves :') I was wondering, could I get #59 from prompt list #1 w/ Anakin por favor? 🥺❤” as requested by @anakinswhore

Description: After accepting an invitation to unwind at 79’s from his men, Anakin meets the person who will show him love like no other. 

Word count: ~1.8k

Warnings: some alcohol consumption, some mention of physical illness, sprinkle of spicyness 🌶, unapologetic fluff attack

A/N: this is a prequel to sun, but it can be read on its own! I love sun so much, especially because it was one of my first fics, so I wanted to show how reader and Anakin met for that fic! Since the other fic was somewhat sad, I wanted to give the two some fluff 💞 Also, Julia, I know you liked sun a lot as well, so I thought it’d be fitting to make this the prequel 🥰 If y’all want to listen to the song I had on repeat when writing both sun and this, go ahead and listen to My Father’s Favorite by Patrick Doyle from the Sense and Sensibility soundtrack. It’s from writing sun with that song that it now reminds me so much of Anakin (it’s my theme for him tbh). 

P.S. Y/L/N indicates “your last name” :)

Tags: @acnini @roseofalderaan @ohhellokenobi @goldenkenobi @snips-n-skyguy0501 @cherieboba @sacred-things @nobie​ @obirain

join my taglist! 

——

Anakin is confident. Or at least, he likes to think he is. He easily takes command on the battlefield, sure of himself when giving orders to his men. So why is it that he’s hesitating now?

It might be because he’s in a new setting, one that he never expected to be in after a battle-filled week: 79’s. Yes, Anakin Skywalker, Jedi Knight and general of the 501st battalion is in the clone bar surrounded by his men. 

It’d been Fives’s idea, in a way. He’d been talking to a few of the other clone troopers about how much he was looking forward to unwinding in 79's after ‘this Maker-forsaken week’, when Anakin walked in on the conversation. Surprised by his entrance, Fives blurted out an invitation to the general, not expecting him to accept. Only, he did. And now Anakin is starting to wish he hadn’t. 

He’s sitting in a booth, handling a Bloody Rancor, as recommended by Jesse. Sitting next to him is Rex, Anakin’s right hand man both on and off the field. Rex can sense his general’s uneasiness, indicated by his lack of talking and wandering gaze. 

“General Skywalker, are you feeling okay?” 

Anakin turns to look at Rex, nodding. “Yes, Rex, I’m fine. I’m just getting used to being in a cantina again. The last time I was in one was on a mission with Obi-Wan in my Padawan days.”

Rex chuckles lightly at the response, turning back to resume his conversation with his brothers on the table. 

Anakin, on the other hand, keeps looking around. What for, he’s not sure. But his eyes keep traveling, mindlessly. He’s taking a sip of the Bloody Rancor when his eyes stop. He nearly spits out his drink. 

He’s looking at you. You’re sitting with some friends, a similar drink to his nestled between your hands. You’re laughing, your face radiant under the cantina lights, and Anakin can’t help but stare. 

Fives is the first to notice Anakin’s staring. He nudges Echo, motioning over to Anakin. Rex catches the two’s conversation, and his eyes follow their own, seeing the look of curiosity on Anakin’s face. 

“You should ask her for a dance,” Fives says. 

Echo looks at Fives in disbelief, shocked that he’d suggest that. “Fives, Jedi can’t—“ 

“I know, I know,” Fives interrupts his mumbling brother. “That doesn’t mean he can’t enjoy a dance, does it?”

At Fives’s suggestion, Anakin is hesitant again. He wants to go talk to you, he really does, but he’s not sure if he should. But then you turn, the feeling of his eyes on you prompting you to look at him. The smile on your face widens, and now Anakin is convinced he has to go talk to you. 

He takes a large gulp of the Bloody Rancor, prompting a small cheer from the clones on the table (except Rex, who doesn’t want to pressure Anakin). He stands, smoothing his Jedi robes before making his way over to the table you and your friends are sitting at. 

When he reaches your table, he clears his throat. Your eyes lock with his own again, and the way your eyes themselves are smiling at him make Anakin feel like a youngling again. 

As if on queue, a new song starts, a slower song that has couples flocking to dance. 

“Hello, I don’t mean to interrupt. I was wondering if you wanted to dance?” He’s extending his hand to you, and though he looks sure of himself, inside his heart is beating like a drum. 

“I’d love to,” you say, and Maker the sound of your voice alone has him weak at the knees. 

“Y/N, are you sure?” The woman sitting next to you tries to ask you discreetly, but Anakin picks up what she says. Looking over at her, he sees similarities between you and her, and he’s sure you’re related. 

“I’m fine, Lani, it’s a slower song.” The woman, Lani, nods, though she doesn’t look fully convinced. 

You take a hold of Anakin’s hand, skin coming to contact with his own. He leads you to where other couples are dancing, and places his gloved hand on the small of your back, making sure not to go too low. Your free hand takes a hold of his shoulder, and, following his lead, you begin to sway to the music. 

At first, neither of you speak. You just move with the music, a small, content smile on your face. Then Anakin breaks the silence. 

“Your name is Y/N.” It’s more of a statement than a question, having heard what Lani called you. 

“Yes, I’m Y/N Y/L/N. And who do I have the pleasure of dancing with tonight?” You’re uncommonly bold tonight, unbeknownst to Anakin. 

“Anakin Skywalker,” he says. 

“Anakin.” You say his name. You enjoy the way it feels to say it, and Anakin knows he could hear you saying his name over and over again. 

“Lani, is she your...”

“My sister. She’s my older sister.”

Anakin nods, the similarities in looks making sense. “She didn’t seem to want you to come dance.”

“It’s nothing against you, trust me. She’s just worried because I’m sick.”

Anakin’s eyebrows raise lightly. “Sick?”

You nod, a bashful look crossing your face and causing you to look down. “I can be prone to getting sick often, more often than most, and my body isn’t the strongest to fight it off. Lani can be protective because of that. I don’t usually tell people right away, but I guess I should give you a chance to run before anything.”

Anakin frowns lightly. Run? Who said anything about running? He takes his hand away from your back to slightly lift your chin, prompting you to look at him. 

“I’m not going anywhere.”

Your face instantly lights up with a smile, one that Anakin knows he wants to always keep on your face. 

The two of you are seemingly stuck to each other the rest of the night, dancing and talking non stop. When it’s time to go home, Anakin walks you to your place, already making plans for when to see you again. Your meetings multiply over the days, the months, and soon, you’re seeing each other every chance you get. 

It’s right before an assignment he’s sent on that he realizes he loves you. He’s known for some time now, arguably he’s known since the moment he laid eyes on you that night in 79’s. But there’s something about today, about the thought of not seeing you for Maker knows how many rotations, that pushes the thought to the front of his mind. 

He loves you, and he needs to let you know.

Anakin is standing outside the door of your home, waiting for you to answer the door. He should be back at the Jedi temple, ready to depart with Rex, but he’s not. 

You open the door, a surprised look on your face at the sight of him. Meanwhile, Anakin is smiling, the usual smile his face adapts every time he sees you. 

“Ani, I thought you were off to Naboo today.”

“I am, but I wanted to see you first.”

Your mouth curls up to a smile, and you open the door wider to let him in. Once inside, you hug him and give him a kiss on the cheek. 

“I love that you came, but aren’t you going to be late? You said Rex and you were set to leave at,” you look over at the clock on your wall. “Now!”

Anakin laughs lightly, wrapping his arms around your waist to pull you into him. You’re not sure how he’s so calm about being late for his assignment; in all your time knowing him, he’s never been late. 

“It’s alright, my love. I told Rex to expect delays.”

At his nonchalant manner, you can’t help but join in and laugh. You take a hold of his face, bringing it down so that you can kiss him. When your lips meet, they mold perfectly, as always. Anakin moves to deepen the kiss, his brows furrowed in concentration. His eagerness reminds you of your first kiss together. 

You’d been sick, and Anakin had stopped to check up on you. After helping feed you some soup, much to your protest, you were wiping your mouth. His eyes focused on your lips, and in a bash of boldness, he’d leaned in to take your lips with his. The two of you were left breathless, much like now. 

Your need for air causes you to pull back, to Anakin’s dismay. He could kiss you forever, the taste of your lips doing more at keeping him alive than oxygen itself. 

Without hesitating, Anakin speaks. “I love you.”

You pull his face down to yours again, literal electricity sparking when your lips meet. You’ve kissed him just seconds ago, but this kiss, it’s different. 

Anakin’s arms around you tighten, mouth exploring your own, as if it holds hidden treasures. Your hands entangle in his locks, tugging lightly and earning a groan from him. You take a small nip at his lip before pulling back, taking in the look of a closed eyed, drunken-like Anakin. 

“Wow.”

His response elicits a giggle from you, the sound making Anakin open his eyes. 

“I love you, sun of my life. I always will,” you say. 

He leans in to kiss you for a third time, this time trading your lips for the top of your head. It’s soft and tender, one that evokes a content sigh from you. 

“Come to Naboo with me.” His lips are still on top of your head, his invitation mumbled. 

You pull back to look up at him. You’ve never been anywhere but Coruscant, Anakin knows that. He’d always promised you that he’d take you to experience the different worlds within the galaxy. You’d always assumed he’d meant after the war. Anakin, on the other hand, saw no better time than now. 

“I’m sure guests aren’t allowed on assignments related to Jedi business,” you say, cocking a brow. 

Anakin gives you a lopsided grin, moving a strand of hair from your face. 

“Nobody has to know.” The look of confusion on your face causes him to laugh. “I could sneak you on the transport. It’ll just be Rex, a few of my men, and I. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

“Ani, I don’t want to get you into any trouble.”

“You won’t, don’t you worry about that. Plus, the Festival of Light will be tomorrow. I’d love for you to see it.”

Anakin sees and senses your hesitation. When you let out a sigh, he knows he’s won. 

You finally agree, and Anakin envelopes you in a hug. It’s the first of many assignments and low risk missions he sneaks you into. He makes it his mission to show you the galaxy, to show you the beauties that, for him, will never compare to you. 

Every time you land on a new planet, a smile of pure fascination paints your face. And every time Anakin sees it, he knows there’s nothing he wouldn’t do to keep you smiling. 

#i love how this turned out! #chasity reaches 100!🥳 #userkarina #usernobie #userlilylils #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin skywalker imagine #anakin skywalker fanfiction #anakin skywalker fanfic #anakin skywalker x y/n #anakin skywalker x you #anakin skywalker reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars fanfiction #star wars reader insert #star wars imagine #fem reader #anakin-danvers work

[potatoes-n-stuff]

Hello I’m sorry I have new weird ybc thoughts for the day. Today we have an au in which all of fob gets brainwashed i guess.........? Wanted an Evil Pete/YBC Patrick AU... so.... I guess this is like... brainwashed peterick or smth..... 😔 😔 😔 this post is in itself not even really shippy but it’s Pete and Patrick centric

Putting under read more cos it’s a bit long (also warnings for... torture, brainwashing, etc, the general ybc things)

Sorry i actually just wanted to write weird nasty thoughts today jkfjskdfj but i’ve made an au instead. I’m literally coming up with this as I type it out so I’m sorry if it’s kinda rambly???

Ok so I just wanted an evil Pete AU. Evil Pete who has YBC Patrick as his pet or smth. And I figured... hey..... best way to get evil Pete is if he got brainwashed too, right

In a universe where the vixens realised, hey, we already kidnapped all the boys, so maybe let’s make use of all of them, I think they would have succeeded, right. If the boys don’t all kill each other, they would never have been sent back to finish the fight. So they brainwash all the boys. They’re all evil now. They all are the ones sent out to do the cult’s bidding, all with slightly different specialities

But somehow there’s... there’s enough of a connection between Pete and Patrick that they decide to tie the two of them together. These two are designed to be a pair. They still want Patrick to be their attack dog, their lil killing machine, but why not give the dog a master, right. They have to wreck Patrick’s brain enough to make him just go ‘kill kill kill’ so maybe it’s also easier to tie him to someone else so that person can keep him in line. And with how dangerous he is, the vixens would rather it be someone else, yknow. So it’s Pete. The bond between the two of them is already so strong that its surprisingly easy to imprint Patrick onto Pete. And then Pete... his brain is a lil less messed up. He’s more human. He needs to be able to interact with the cult leader more ‘normaly’ and things like that I guess? but also he’s... he’s not at all normal anymore he’s... he’s messed up too

Pete’s... quiet now. He grins a lot. His wide smiles are never kind. He killed one of the vixens during the brainwashing and has proven that he’d happily kill again. Sometimes he laughs, and they’re always loud, but not like he used to. He cackles. It sounds hollow. It’s what you hear before he slices you open

Although Pete is the one who takes orders from the vixens directly. Patrick can, too, but its more simple instructions like ‘attack this man’ or ‘retrieve this item’ or, simply, ‘destroy’. Pete you can actually give more complex plans to, and then he will wrangle Patrick to get the job done.

But Patrick is... by no means stupid. His brain isn’t destroyed in that sense, he’s just... feral now. He can clearly understand whatever is said to him, but that doesn’t necessarily means he wants to listen or is willing to sit down and plan around complex instructions. He now only has two objectives: kill and please Pete

Patrick is almost never courteous to the vixens. He simply does not care. He will snarl at them unless explicitly told not to. He doesn not even seem to be listening unless a direct order is given to him. But with his three friends... he listens. They still talk to him, with the little words they now have. And Patrick always listens. Patrick hardly ever speaks, but he will nudge them as a show of support or affection

But Patrick’s interactions with Pete are a little different. He belongs to Pete, but Pete is also his, and he knows this. When they are standing, working, Patrick stands in front of Pete, a guard dog, growling, waiting for Pete’s quiet signal to strike. When they are resting, he likes to sit on the ground by Pete’s legs, face pressed against Pete’s thigh. That’s the most relaxed you’d ever see him in his current state. When Pete runs his hands through Patrick’s hair, the sound that leaves Patrick’s throat is a gravelly but muted growl, almost a purr. Pete is also almost always whispering to him, or has a hand on Patrick’s head or back, or sometimes both... The two share secrets that noone else is privy to. Their intimacy in this sense was never planned. The plan was to have Pete control Patrick, and to be fair, that has worked, but the plan never included this level of closeness, this level of dependency

Whenever the vixens threaten any of Patrick’s friends with punishment, he is always the first to leap in, teeth bared, hook raised, and usually gets in trouble for that first. The boys tend to defend each other too. The vixens usually have to decide if they want to risk angering all of them at once, or forcing them apart. A lot of the time they force the boys apart

But with Pete and Patrick... Seperating them turns out to be a really bad idea

Patrick goes fuckin mental. They throw him into a cell and all he does is scream and roar and scratch against the walls. He slams himself against the door and the walls until he collapses from the pain

Pete... Pete they put him in the cell next to Patrick. They make sure he can hear every roar, every cry of pain, the rage and desperation in Patrick’s voice. They know it hurts Pete more than anything they could ever do to him physically. Pete screams back and Patrick lets out even more pained cries. These two were already close before, but now that they are forcibly linked like this, being forced apart is a fate worse than death. Every part of their minds screams that they need each other, that they want to protect each other, and this goes against every instinct programmed into them

When they are finally reunited, cells unlocked, Pete cries bloody murder but that’s not his focus right now. All he does is rush to Patrick, gather the broken body in his arms, and pulls him in close. All he knows is Patrick is hurt. They’ve been torn apart from the inside out. Patrick whimpers and shakes and grabs onto Pete so hard that his nails tear into Pete’s skin and his hook slashes into him. But Pete doesn’t move

At the end of the day, the vixens arent sure if that was a good idea or not. On one hand, a perfect punishment, clearly. On the other hand, the boys’ hatred towards them has grown. But, then again, as long as they keep all the boys in line, that has never really mattered, has it

#brainwashed buddies au #thats my working tag unless i come up with a better name gjksjdfks #im so sorry please dont read this #at which point am i going to get cancelled for writing weird shit based on this au #also btw my dear followers i would like yall to know that if i write smth weird and yall want to be like lmao look at this weirdo #please go ahead HAHAAH i think its funny #just dont be rude about it #anyway if anyone reads this im gonna make more weird nonsense #i was actually gonna write worse things today but i got carried away with this #my stuff #the potato writes stuff #fob #peterick #i actually need to tag a few other things but i dont really wanna maintag this #fall out boy #patrick stump #pete wentz #ybc #im so sorry if you see this in the main tags

[awkwardbluefish]

Under The Broken Boy

—

Summary: Alfred confronts Jason the night he tries to kill the Joker. Bruce won’t be happy but when is he ever.

Warning: Death angst

A/n - saw this on a tumblr post by @batkidsaremadkids and I had to write! Also I’m tagging @geminibabyhere cause I know they wanted someone to read it. Also I haven’t seen this in a while so somethings may be eh

—

Bruce Wayne was nothing more than an utter fool in Alfreds eyes.

His son, Jason, was alive and yet Bruce was nothing more than disappointed and disturbed mixed with a desperate happiness attacking his heart.

Alfred couldn’t blame him for the happiness and shock. His heart had stopped in his chest as the silverware slipped past his gloves as he saw the recording and heard that achingly familiar voice. That was Jason Todd, helmet or no helmet. That was his grandson.

And yet, after their confrontation, Bruce was no longer happy. Disturbed and disappointed. Jason has killed people, a lot of people. Maybe Alfred wasn’t exactly please with that but he was a man born and bred in a war. He knew sometimes you had to take a life. And those people? They truly where scum.

“Alfred, do you have the locations?” Batman’s voice is low, lower than normal. More tired then normal.

Bruce will be mad but he doesn’t understand. Jason woke up in a world where the Joker was still alive. A man who was crazed and killed millions for fun. Alfred wasn’t one to take pleasure in killing, and anyone who did was sick. But he understood this time more than any of the others.

“At the warehouse on 28th Patrick Avenue, sir.” Alfred replies simply and Batman’s lips go that bit tighter.

The cape ripples in the air as he turns, boots silent on the stone as he heads to the platform holding that death machine of a vehicle.

“Just like them,” Alfred resists throwing a batarang at the mans head and scowls as the engine roars and the wheels squeal as the car speeds out of the cave.

He lets out a sigh and heads up the stairs. It’s quiet without Master Richard and Timothy. Timothy was with the Titans and Alfred knew the boy would just be so excited to meet his hero, his older brother. He was going to make sure that happened.

“Would you look at you?” He murmurs and the reflection of the case showed his wrinkles. “I never thought I’d be using you again.”

Putting the bullet into the gun is nostalgic and oh so familiar. He checks the safety before walking to the car. He’ll use one of Bruce’s undercover ones for these. A limo would be too eye catching after all.

It doesn’t take long to get there. A few minutes really. The worn down apartment is made of brick and he easily shoved the rusted door open. He may be old but that doesn’t mean he isn’t strong.

The hallway is nothing but filth and dust and he shakes his head as he makes the way up the stairs. Jokers muffled giggles are followed by a pained Yelp and Alfred decides to let Jason go for making him go to this filth of a place.

The door is an old wooden one and Alfred raises a brow. No wonder why this old complex is a warehouse now, no security what so ever. That won’t do in a place like Gotham.

He doesn’t bother to knock and the door creaks as he opens it. A bullet shatters some stone from the brick near his head and he raises a brow at the boy who had grown quite taller since he had last saw him.

Jason is shaking ever so slightly. His shoulders tense and fingers tightening around the gun as he takes Alfred in.

Now Alfred knows Jason could’ve easily killed him. But he didn’t. That shot was a warning, a warning that this man knew how to use it and wouldn’t hesitate if needed. The boy was too young to be acting like a soldier.

“Jason,” Alfred greets, tilting his head. He wanted nothing more than to wrap the boy in his arms and refuse to let go but he wouldn’t. Not yet at least. And especially not when that clown was giggling at him with wide eyes.

“Oh~ is that your name Red? Or should I say you stinking little their?! Jason? How cute- can!” The barrel slams into the side of his head and Alfred nods appreciating the second of silence.

“Why are you here?” His grandson snaps, voice low and robotic. Alfred isn’t even offended. “To talk me out of it?!”

He shakes his head, eyeing Joker with distaste as he steps forward. Glass crunches under his feet as he takes another one, he knows Jason won’t hurt him.

“Not at all,” he says simply and Jason’s shoulders freeze before a scowl covers his lips.

“Of course you are! You work for him!” He spots and Alfred let’s him have his well deserved tantrum. “After everything this freak has done, after everyone he’s killed he’s still alive! He didn’t do anything, not when he even killed me, his own son!”

Alfred watches as he huffs, cheeks flush red in anger and from his small speech. “I know, it isn’t right. I’m a man from war, if anyone knows that it’s me.”

Jason freezes at that and the Joker lets out a laugh, shattering the silence. “A man of war you say?! What an interesting story?! Do tell me, how many of your friends did you fail and watch die?”

“Too many,” Alfred says simply as Jason knees him in the stomach. Joker wheezes out a laugh as blood smears his mouth. “But I don’t dwell on the past when there’s nothing to be done.”

Eyes snap up to his and Alfred sends him a strong look. Telling him that this message was for him, not the piece of filth grinning ear from ear. “I believed it was my fault for a long time, I still do. But going around and hunting down the people who did it won’t bring anything back.”

Jason blinks rapidly and Alfred smiles softly at the broken man. The gun drags down Jokers cheek, smearing the blood before it drops numbly to his side.

“He didn’t- he- why didn’t he do anything?” It’s croaked and mumbles out but Alfred hears every broken word.

He shakes his head. “You can ask him that yourself.” He says softly, pushing gently with his words.

Jason doesn’t move for a second, staring blankly at the cracked floor before nodding slowly. The gun clatters against stone as he lets it slip from his fingertips.

That’s when Joker looses it. “HAHA you can’t even do it! I took away your like and you can’t take out measly old me?! You’re missing an opportunity here!”

Jason freezes just by Alfred side. Alfred pats his shoulder, un-clicks the safety of the gun and fires.

“If you had used those bloody ears to listen, you would’ve understood. I said when there’s nothing to be done. This was something that was overdue to be done.” Alfred tells the corpse, huffing and pocketing the gun.

Jason stares at him wide eyed as he leads the shocked boy down to the vehicle. “Y-you? Why?”

“There’s one thing you got wrong in your speech,” Alfred tells him simply. “I am under orders of no one. I do what I want. Now come along, there’s two brothers and three sisters just dying to see you again.”

Jason laughs then, quiet and shocked as he’s man handled into the front seat. “Bad choice of words Alfie- wait brothers and sisters?! As in plural?!”

Alfred just smiles and shuts the door in his face. It was good to have him back.

#alfred pennyworth #jason todd #red hood #joker #dc #bruce wayne #batman #tw death #mine #my writing

[nobody-wants-ice-cream]

Everything Wrong With The Umbrella Academy. Episode 8, I Heard a Rumor.

This episode is particularly brutal. Warnings include child abuse, domestic abuse, suicide, rape, gore, and manipulation. Keep yourself safe.

We Only See Each Other at Weddings and Funerals

Run Boy Run

Extra Ordinary

Man on the Moon

Number Five

The Day That Wasn’t

The Day That Was

Disclaimer: This is all in good fun! I wanted to do a really nitpicky re-watch of the series and found some really cool and interesting things I didn’t notice before. This is meant to have a Cinema Sins-esque tone. However, I did take off a lot more sins than Cinema Sins would have because I do genuinely like the series and the people that made it possible. So all of the good things got one sin off and all the bad things got one sin added. This is a really long post, so grab some popcorn. If there’s anything that I missed, feel free to add it!

I would also like to add that normally you wouldn’t watch a show this way. I am purposefully looking for mistakes, easter eggs, and other things that we’re not supposed to notice. I am watching not with the goal of entertainment, but for analysis. So most of the things that I sin, I am seeing for the first time.

Also, no I can’t do better. I am in no way qualified to give this level of criticism about anything. I am not taking this seriously. At all. 

I Heard a Rumor

Stormy Weather by Etta James. I adore this song. When I first watched the show I was so happy when this song came on.-1

I am also taking a sin off for the Emmy Raver-Lampman version -1

It looks like Allison genuinely adores her daughter. And Claire’s bedroom? I would want to have that room now and I am at least ten years older than her. -1

Speaking of, how old is Claire? Sin until we have answers. +1

The animations for the story of The Umbrella Academy defeating the robbers at the museum. -2

“While your Uncle Klaus got a little distracted.” What did Klaus do on missions again? +1

Allison carefully censors the mission so she is still telling the truth but doesn’t actually say that Diego used knives or that Ben used the horror to (presumably, we don’t know how much control Ben had) kill four people. Good job. See Reggie, this is how you don’t traumatise your kid with violence. -1

“Their leader.” Looks suspiciously like a villain from the comics. -1

“I wanna hear the one about the Eiffel tower.” Me too, Claire. Especially since the magazine clips we see suggest Five was there this time. -1

Mind control. ON A CHILD. This is what bothers me the most about Allison as a character and I am glad that she is moving past it. However, in no universe can I let this go. Depending on how Allison used it, Claire’s emotional control could be fucked for life. +40

Patrick behaves like a rational human being and doesn’t blow up at Allison for this in front of their child. He also divorces her in order to keep said child safe. Good. -1

“I heard a rumor you love me.” Who did she say this to? It doesn’t matter who, it’s still disturbing, but oh dear God who did she say this to? I think this is the second most fucked up thing we hear Allison say after the rumoring Claire scene. +10

Allison is going 120 kmh, or 75 mph, in the rain. If you have ever driven a car in the rain then you know exactly why I am sinning this. For those who don’t know, google hydroplaning. Allison could have died here very, very easily. +3

Title screen on a billboard! I forgot how cool the episode 8 title screen was. -1

Allison doesn’t bring her proof with her when going to confront Vanya, who has been shown to be irrational when it comes to Leonard. +1

Bird jumpscare. +1

“They want me to come back tomorrow be fitted for a prosthetic eye”. Leonard places emphasis on the words “prosthetic eye” to remind the viewers that Leonard is bad news. Good acting choice. -1

Leonard’s clothes look freshly bloody when the blood should be several hours old and therefore a more rusty brown color than a bright red. I think. I don’t know if that’s how it works with such large amounts of blood. +1

Luther’s bed is now magically big enough to fit both him and the rave girl. +1

Luther’s reaction to the rave girl. Rewatch this scene to get such a laugh at Luther’s face. -1

How out of it was Luther vs the rave girl? Consent issues on both sides. +3

Luther treated the rave girl to some wine? Or cranberry juice? How thoughtful. -1

I really, really hope they were safe though. There is no evidence to imply they were safe. (If you don’t know what I’m talking about then you’re too young to be watching TUA). +1

Klaus is such a little shit. “Wakey wakey! Eggs and bakey!” while ringing the bell. Peak sibling culture is doing this sort of thing while knowing that the other sibling is NOT going to appreciate it. Also, Klaus deserves his revenge after last night. -1

The little wave the rave girl gives Klaus. -1

Go back and watch this scene. Holy shit this is so underrated. This is the funniest thing ever. -1

“He popped his cherry! Now you’re gonna have to marry her” -4

Klaus doesn’t remember his first time. Consent issues. +3

“No dilly-dallying, alright?” I love Klaus. -1

Klaus makes french press coffee for Luther and Ben. Klaus is a good brother. -1

I would kill to see Ben’s reaction to Luther and the rave girl. +1

Five snatches Luther’s coffee and not Ben’s, ya know, the guy who can’t drink the coffee. And is invisible. Five is a dick to Luther or Five wanted to be a little shit to Luther after having to hear him and the rave girl. Either way, +1

He steals the coffee and he complains about it. +1

Ben! -1

“This is a bad idea” no shit. +1

The awkward pauses where Ben is presumably speaking don’t make sense here. +1

The camera trickery used to make Luther look like a giant compared to Five. -1

Five knows where the aspirin is “top shelf next to the crackers” because he was also hungover. I think. I can’t remember if FIve stopped back at the house, but presumably he and Luther had to go there to get the car. -1

Luther still isn’t getting up to get the aspirin even though he can listen just fine while getting it. +1

Ben adding to the dramatic tension of the scene in a uniquely humorous way that only this show can pull off. -2

Luther doesn’t believe Klaus about Reggie’s suicide. What reason would Klaus have to lie about this, Luther? +1

Five believes him right away. -1

Convenient Pogo backing up Klaus is convenient. +1

This has nothing to do with this very dramatic and important scene, but the mismatched chairs, while cute, don’t appear in any other scene. +1

Five calls Reggie a “sick bastard” under his breath. That’s one way to describe him. -1

Pogo kept this secret for a long time. Not telling the kids was a strange choice and I’m not sure why Pogo made it. On one hand, he would be respecting the wishes of his creator and friend but on the other he would be helping these people come to terms with their father’s death. Pogo’s character motivations are strange and I don’t understand them. +1

Luther said it best, “there’s always choice.” +1

Random thought I had, where was Harold’s grandmother when he was being abused and then going to jail because he killed his abuser? +1

Leonard says some nice things in this scene. If we didn’t know how manipulative he was I would give him credit for this line. +1

Agnes looks adorable out of the Griddy’s uniform. Costume/hair people, you did good. -1

Agnes keeps saying things like “we aren’t in a rush” and talking about seeing three years worth of stops to remind us that there is no time. Hazel looks heartbroken by it. -1

Allison abandons her vehicle. Do not take driving advice from The Umbrella Academy, ever! +1

Allison sees a random scarf from several cars away and immediately connects it with Vanya. Does she also have super sight? +1

The first time we see Allison get recognized by a random stranger for her acting is eight episodes in. +1

Cheddar (the cop Allison is talking to) is so enamored by Allison that he stops doing his job correctly. +1

“Jackpine cove” who named these towns? +1

Allison and Five have the same little shrug when they finish telling terrible lies. -1

Allison is a terrible liar. +1

Diego is still in jail. They’re talking about transferring him upstate. This is really bad news. +1

“Did she use that word? Contentious?” The definitions of contentious all say the word argument. Beeman says that Diego and Patch had an argumentative relationship. This matters to Diego. Why? +1

This conversation was written by someone who doesn’t understand the connotation of the word contentious. +1

Beeman encourages Diego to escape and go on the run. Are all the cops incompitent on this show? You have Patch, who hasn’t pinned Diego for obstruction of justice despite the show implying that Diego has touched evidence he wasn’t supposed to many times, Cheddar, who is so distracted by Allison freakin’ Hargreeves that he forgets that taking her along to a murder case is unethical at best, and Beeman who straight up encourages Diego to escape from jail. That last one is definitely illegal. +10

The parallel between Five and Leonard reading something they aren’t supposed to have in the bathroom. Both the apocalypse file and the journal are red, too. This means something but I don’t have the analysis skills to really go into it. If anyone wants to take a crack at it, go ahead. Sin removed because I know this is smart even if I can’t figure out why.-1

Vanya’s training implies that Reggie has been training these kids hard since they were at least four years old. +7

Current Sin Count: 73

Reggie doesn’t praise Vanya for breaking the glass, he just demands that she does it again. Say it with me now, Reggie is a dick. +1

Leonard straight up uses the word extraordinary. Sigh. +1

The description for how Vanya’s powers work (concentrate on a constant sound until that’s all you can hear and then use an emotional connection to target) is surprisingly good. This is the best description of somebody’s powers we’ve ever gotten in this show. -1

Klaus is attempting to get the yarn on the needle and failing miserably. This is one of the simpler, if tedious, things we do in knitting. Therefore, it is completely understandable how a beginner can’t make heads or tails of it. -1

Five is still injured. The old man walk gives it away. +1

Five treats Klaus like a second in command. I want more of this duo. -1

“So how’d the crazy bastard actually know to kill himself a week before the end of the world?” We would all like to know the answer to that question. Five would be excellent at cinema sins. +1

“Don’t answer, that was purely rhetorical.” Nice cop out, show. +1

Reggie used The Apocalypse to make his kids do the dishes. Checks out. +1

Five and Klaus bond over hating doing the dishes and the person making them do the dishes. Sibling culture. -1

“Where have you been?” “Jail. Long story.” The looks on Klaus and Five’s faces! -2

Vanya breaks the monocle. Good job, kid. However, if you know the comics then you know why I am mildly concerned about this. -1

“That will conclude your training for the time being.” Meaning the next 25 years. Reggie, you suck. +1

Now Vanya’s powers are a bit more vague and imply that she has super hearing. +1

Leonard’s training routine actually includes some praise, which is a step up from Reggie. However, a step up from Reggie is still someplace in hell, so it’s still a sin. +1

It’s also a sin because it’s uncontrolled and Vanya is afraid of it, yet Leonard keeps pushing her. +1

Leonard uses the kind of language Reggie would use to describe Vanya’s powers. Checks out because he read Reggie’s book and is using his ideas to train Vanya. +1

Helen Cho’s missing person poster reminds the viewer that Leonard is bad news. +1

Vanya plays for the St. Pluvium Chamber Orchestra. First of all, no they have a conductor. +1

Second of all, “Pluvium” means of or relating to rain. The Umbrella Academy fights against the leader of the rain orchestra in episode 10. Who came up with that pun? That is absolutely hilarious. -1

Based on a post by @seven-valid-libras I think Griddy’s is across the street from this bar? I am not 100% sure. If it is then that’s a sin off because Agnes definitely has a bunch of drunk people coming in for doughnuts every now and then. I lowkey want to write this fic. -1

“Maybe they’ll brood each other to death” Is this a reference to the fact that Luther and Diego were both too emo for umbrellas in episode 1? -1

I feel so bad for Luther right now. Reggie really fucked with his head. +1

After hearing that Vanya’s boyfriend is a convicted murderer, Luther is more concerned for Allison than he is for Vanya. +1

Diego’s face when Luther says “you should have led with that!” [the fact that Allison went after a convicted murderer alone] -1

Luther is right. Diego should have led with that. +1

Luther breaks the door in his rush to get out of the bar. Checks out. -1

Mary J. Blige. -1

The shop is closing because Agnes is leaving? Who owns Griddy’s? +1

And if the shop is closing, then why leave doughnuts on the shelf? Are they gifts for the other waitresses who are now out of a job? +1

Agnes keeps a flamingo (presumably, scented) candle in a bakery. +1

Cha Cha was way too close to that explosion to not get some scratches at the very least. +1

Sergeant Cheddar is letting Allison stay in the room while he interrogates Mr. Luntz (the man that survived Vanya’s powers). +1

What kind of person allows themselves to be hired by some guy in order to beat him up in front of his girlfriend? Who does that? Are there people like that who exist in real life? +1

Allison doesn’t get pissed off when Luntz says that they started to hurt the girl (Vanya) too. +1

Sgt. Cheddar finally gets pissed off with Allison after she starts leading Luntz. This took way too long. +1

“What I really need to do is practice,” said every musician ever. Including me. As I’m typing this I’m putting off practicing. Vanya is calling me out. I deserve it. +1

Also, Vanya just got first chair and so far she still hasn’t learned the solo the day before the concert. That is such a mood. -1

The cracks in Leonard’s personality are finally starting to show. If Harold was smart he would let Vanya do this without attempting to manipulate her into more practice. +1

Vanya left her violin propped up in the middle of a sofa. That is a broken violin waiting to happen. +1

Where is her rosin? Don’t tell me she reuses the same rosin and doesn’t clean her instrument. Please. +2

Leonard doesn’t tell Vanya where he will be going. He just sort of leaves without a note. This would be fine if this universe had cell phones, but it doesn’t. Leonard is a dick. +1

Agnes would like to spend her (Hazel tells her it’s hypothetical but we know it’s not) last two days on Earth with Hazel. That is so sweet. But also, they met less than a week ago. +1

This is the turning point that makes Hazel an active character that wants to stop the apocalypse. Finally some character motivation that makes sense! Whoop! -1

They Call Me a Fool by Damon is another one of my favorites from the soundtrack. What can I say, I’m a sucker for jazz. -1

There is a parallel between Five leaving Vanya’s apartment and Leonard leaving her at the cabin. Her brother (whom I assume she loves) and the man she is infatuated with both leave her at some point without warning. The people who Vanya loves keep leaving her. +2

Vanya puts her violin down on a chair and lets the bow fall. Bows are expensive. +1

“I made a secret place just for you. None of your siblings get to play there.” Of course Reggie is framing it this way. He’s scared of her. +1

The further away from Pogo the camera is, the less real he looks. +1

Reggie and Pogo locked Vanya in this cage. +1

Vanya’s violin bow fell down but in the next shot it’s propped on the chair. +1

Sgt. Cheddar tells Allison to stay put but has no way to verify that she actually will. Also, if he’s such a fan then shouldn’t he know that she used to be a superhero? +1

Allison kept her proof about Leonard/Harold in the car again. +1

“I love you. And I wanna be here for you as your sister.” -1

“I love him.” Vanya you met him less than a week ago. +2

If there was ever a wrong time to bring up the fact that you took Vanya’s powers away and left her with a horribly low self esteem due to the poorly worded “I heard a rumor that you think you’re just ordinary”, it would be now! Now is the wrong time to bring this up! +10

Reggie used Allison to make Vanya powerless. Reggie is a dick. An absolute bastard. A complete scumbag. Etc. +20

Reggie has also been drugging Vanya since she was FOUR YEARS OLD. +50

Insert Reggie insults here. Feel free to come up with your own in the tags. Fuck this guy repeatedly with a rusty chainsaw. +20

Vanya is not in the right state of mind to understand that Reggie is the one that made Allison rumor her. +1

The final fight between Allison and Vanya is heartbreaking. Emmy Raver-Lampman and Ellen Page are excellent actresses. -5

Vanya’s skin keeps getting paler and paler. Foreshadowing. -1

This is the only time Allison attempts to use her powers in the show. To save her life. I would say that it is pretty justified. -1

Violin bows are not sharp enough to cut human flesh. Is this another part of Vanya’s power? +1

Gore warning! This is super fucked. Not gonna lie, I gag a little every time I see this.+4

Vanya is freaking out and then Leonard walks in. Vanya’s mental state is completely out the window at this point. +4

Leonard manhandles Vanya into letting her sister die (as far as they know) on the floor of the cabin. +10

Allison has definitely lost enough blood to kill her, yet she survives this. +1

Leonard went out to kill Luntz. +10

Nobody in the car (Five driving, Klaus shotgun, Luther and Diego in the back) is wearing a seatbelt. +1

Also, of these four people, Five is the most qualified to drive right now? Diego is sitting right there! And we saw Klaus drive the ice cream truck! Luther would have some trouble driving because he’s so large. But really?? +2

“Can you go any faster?” “Ask me again and I’ll burn you with the cigarette lighter.” The comic relief doesn’t really land here because the scene before was so dramatic and the music is still playing. To change the mood, the song would also have to change. +2

Independently, that is a pretty funny Grandpa Five line. -1

Including Ben in the scene where they find Allison bleeding out on the floor is a subtle reminder to the audience that if Allison was dead, Klaus would be able to see her ghost. The lack of a ghost means she is still alive. +1

Also, this scene has all the original members of The Umbrella Academy in it. Look how far they’ve come from the bank robbery. +6

No one is checking for a pulse right now. They’re just assuming that Allison is dead. +10

Overall Review: It goes without saying that this episode is fucking brutal. When I first watched it I had to stop and go do something else for a while because of the rumor reveal and the throat thing. That was really, really concerning. Props to Emmy Raver-Lampman. She fucking killed it this episode. If anyone was wondering if she was a good actress (ya know because of all the “come look at this” lines she kept getting) then this episode made it very clear that she can act and she does it very, very well. 

So, Vanya’s sanity is out the window, Allison is down for the count, and no one cares about the apocalypse right now. That last one is understandable because of Allison’s situation, but damn it really isn’t looking good for the Hargreeves siblings. 

Also, I want to talk about something. This is the last episode in which Allison and Vanya are both capable of speech. And in the eight hours we have known these two women, they have had multiple conversations. All of them have been about a man. Their brothers, their father, Patrick, or Leonard/Harold. Seriously, the two women in this show that are main characters never have a conversation that isn’t about a man. There is no excuse. With the fridging and this, you have to wonder if the writers on this show hate women or something? I don’t normally add sins post analysis, but I think I will make an exception for this one. +100

Total: 283

Sentence: Serious gore. 

#The Umbrella Academy #all in good fun #luther hargreeves #diego hargreeves #allison hargreeves #klaus hargreeves #five hargreeves #ben hargreeves #vanya hargreeves #leonard peabody #harold jenkins #show warnings apply #this episode is brutal

[m00nlitknight]

wherever i may roam. ( 1 of 2 )

fandom: IT (2017) pairing:  patrick hockstetter / female reader word count:   2.1k+ warnings:  underage drinking. loud scenes. men being creepy. patrick being patrick. extra: based heavily off one of these prompts.  part two in the works!  i hope you all enjoy this, and have a fantastic day c:

Having parties wasn’t a known rarity within the ranks of Derry, but they weren’t a known phenomenon on a superficial level, either.  Within the ranks of upper class high schoolers, they were typically done in the fashion of a small circle of friends rather than anything colossal.  Those instances and occasions of plenty were saved for the rare event of a musical guest.  While the quality of the music wasn't considered a static variable, the fun and energy that ensued from the crowd - teens and college students, usually - was.  For that, many found themselves grateful for the bands, even if they were bad metal covers of pop songs, cover bands for hot acts that didn’t make tour stops in Maine, or just song-writers who were trying to make it in the world of music.

You couldn’t complain -- you shouldn’t, really.  Being the daughter of a well-off lawyer whose business was usually taken out of town, and a girl with a reputation to upkeep; these events didn’t just fly under your radar, they were on a completely different radar altogether.  It sucked, really, to be thrust into expectations you didn’t care to uphold, but not having the might to fight back.  So, you did what you could and lived with it.

However, living with it meant blatantly going against the rule of social rules, society, and your father all the while being directly under their nose.  It was a needle-thin line to walk, but one you felt you walked with confidence and care.

Which, is how you managed to sneak out of the house undetected and attend the concert that had been whispered within the school the previous week.  Spoken from under the bleachers, overheard from the bathroom by those who smoked and considered themselves too cool for the joint; who knew your keen sense of hearing would become so useful?

From the moment your father bid you a sterile adieu, composed of a hollow embrace and chaste kiss to the head, you had begun putting your plans in motion.  Wherever he went, likely to a hotel for whatever trial was taking place early the next morning, or whatever, you couldn’t find it in yourself to particularly care.

Looking the part of a ‘typical’ metalhead wasn’t something you were truly infatuated with to any degree.  Sure, putting on the guise of torn jeans, fishnets, boots, and whatever decimated t-shirt you could find was a great bound of comfort compared to the typical stuffy outfits you had, but it felt tiring to have not just one, but two kinds of social guises to keep up.  Polar opposites, at that.  Surely, you deserve an award for it.

You ease the vehicle into park, a full street away from the actual event, to ensure the protection of the metallic body of your car.  Next, you lean to look yourself in the eye -- eyes rimmed with a sharp black, smudged with burgundy eyeshadow, and lips done with a simple gloss.  Had you any actual lip colors, you would’ve reached for them instead.  You stare for a moment longer, admiring the well-pointed wing extending your likely bored resting face.

Stud earrings and a lazily done ponytail completed your look, the rest of your outfit accented with bits of silver jewelry you couldn’t find it in yourself to truly care about.  Several rings were on your fingers, simple silver bands you had bought from thrift stores recently.  In the frosty, night air you wore a black cardigan over a simple black tank top.  Nondescript, you hope, and would allow you to simply blend into the background.  A simple, forgettable face in the crowd.  Exhaling, you prepare yourself for the night to come and push the car open.

The music, likely booming from the basement, lilts through the air with jagged electricity, and it manages to translate into your veins with a faint tingle in your fingers.  You grin to yourself, already feeling the exhilaration to come.  Around the premises of the home a multitude of cars appear parked, which has you thanking your mind for avoiding the mess of it.  Multiple parked on the curbside, in the driveway, and also on the lawn.  The image of the destroyed grass and streaky soil has you cringing internally, for the remembrance of the hard work that likely went into the landscaping.  

The open, and partially wrecked, door frame is but a glance into the chaos that took place shortly after the sun laid itself to daily rest.  Broken electronics, a lamp, a shattered glass coffee table, and a bloody and unconscious stranger lying all in view.  Suddenly, you felt thankful for the thick and hard soles of your boots, and preyed your balance wouldn’t be giving out on you anytime soon.

As you draw closer you hear the music increase in volume, and can only imagine the ear-shattering havoc occurring just down the stairs.  A sudden shriek to your left rips you from your foot hitting the entryway of the door, instead whipping to a sudden figure being body slammed through what you assumed was the living room window.  You felt a wave of relief wash over you at the fact that this wasn’t your home, but a resounding ripple of pity for whoever actually owned the place.

You quickly stepped past and shuffled through the living room, leaving the unnamed duo to brawl, the more coherent shouting briefly as a greeting.  Quickly you found the kitchen, from the trail of empty and shredded beer cans, to the demolished and alarming amount of disposable cups, you snickered to yourself quietly.  The volume increased as you moved more into the building, most of the partygoers sticking to their own groups and remaining calm.  Wherever the violent action was, it was bound to be nearer to the actual band.

In the corner do you find one of the kegs, swiftly making yourself a drink and turning back to the face of a stranger.  Ebony hair, gel-slicked to perfection, deep brown eyes, and a teetering stance; he eyes you with curiosity and an underlying sense of something else.  You shift uncomfortably when he registers your attention on him.

“Y’from here?” he slurs, prodding your shoulder aggressively.

“Nope,” a bold-faced lie, coupled with nonchalant disinterest.  “You?”

“Nah, from, uh...Place a’ways from here,”  he gestures with both hands, drink-filled cup sloshing with the movement and liquid threatening to spill from the open top.  He leans down to your level.   “Where y’from, doll?”

“Don’t quite think I’ll share where I’m from with a guy who won’t even tell me his name before getting my address,” you cringe at the stench of beer heavy on his breath and lean back.

“Oh, uhhh...Name’s, fuckin’...Michael, y’can call me Mike, though,” a grin overtakes his features while your frown deepens.

“Alright, Mike, I’ll see’ya around,”  you attempt to shift around him, to shuffle out from the keg-corner only to be blocked.

“N’awww, c’mon?  I was polite, or whatever, ain’t’cha gonna tell me your name, dollface?”

“No, now let me through.”

“Or what, kitten?”

Outwardly you groan at the intrusion of your space, and also the blatant annoyance of him.  His turns nearly primal while the music gets louder, a crescendo you knew you would likely have trouble yelling over.

A thin, pale finger with several rings taps itself on his shoulder, from a form you were unable to see.  Michael turns around, aggravation apparent while he begins, “Can’t’cha see we’re busy h--”

He’s cut off by a jarring and strength-filled punch, falling awkward and stone-cold out on your shoulder and kegs.  You watch him fall, as though it happens in slow motion, eyes wide and nearly dropping your drink.  Upon turning your head you come eye-to-eye with someone who could put you in an even worse position and you feel a faint sliver of fear scurry up your spine.  Patrick Hockstetter.

“Kitten,” he starts, with a deadly vocal tone which could only be described as velvet draped over gravel.  You want to cringe.  “That your boyfriend or somethin’?”

“Ew, no,”  No gentle care is taken into shoving the unconscious boy’s body from yours and onto the matted, once shaggy carpeting.  “Just a fuckin’ creep who didn’t know where or when to stop.”

Recognition flashes in his eyes, momentary, and he grins to himself while grabbing something to drink.  It makes you uneasy, to see someone who knows everyone at your school.  Your arms cross as you move to leave, until his voice speaks over the music once again.

“What brings a girl like you to a place like this?”  It makes you realize just how close he’s managed to get to you, lips near your ear as though his presence engulfs you.  “Careful, princess, or you just might get devoured.”

“I--”  a short-lived stammer as he turns and throws an arm over your shoulders, causing you to tense.

“S’okay!  I’ll be but a chaperone so you aren’t found dead by sunrise.”

“Wait,” just barely croaked out, and obviously no hindrance as he begins dragging you from the corner and into the rest of the party.

He takes you down the stairs, a bouncy lack of care going into his lengthened strides and whether or not you were able to keep up.  You hold onto him, sliding an arm around his waist to try and keep balance while staring down at the floor to make sure you weren’t about to fall over.

At the bottom level is what managed to always ignite a feeling of excitement in you, set ablaze the adrenaline and flames of hardy teenage violence.  A mosh pit had formed and the destruction stopped just shy of the stairs.  In the air is the heavy scent of leather, sweat, and iron; all of which attacking with the force of animalistic glee.  The air feels heavy, like it’s weighing down on your shoulders.  Timidly, you steal a glance up at Patrick, who’s managed to get a lit cigarette betwixt his fingers and discard his drink in the time you’d been adhered to his side.  He takes a long drag and licks his lips, smoke emulating the carnage of a dragon, if you could compare him to such a beast.

He looks down at you and says something you’re unable to hear over the music, and had it not been for the sheer volume, you’d likely find it to be one of the more enjoyable acts to grace Derry with its presence.  His arm unwinds from around your shoulder and he plants a kiss on your forehead, to which has you reeling, before stepping into the pit and leaving you alone.

It feels unnerving, to suddenly be rid of the boy who’d claimed himself the role of your ‘evening security blanket,’ but to suddenly fear the repercussions.  Eyes you know are locked on opponents or the evening’s stand feel locked on you, and you feel socially naked at the foot of the basement’s stairs with both hands wrapped around a red solo cup.

You gulp after losing sight of him among the dim room and other black-haired aggressors, taking to maneuvering yourself to a couch sat beside a grandfather clock on the outskirts of the fighting and staring into the lukewarm cup.  Sips are taken from it, carefully, while a couple does what you can only describe as practically eating one another’s faces.

As time passes you begin to feel more cramped, not so much that eyes are on you any longer, but more so that the time to leave is rapidly approaching.  A brief glance at the clock registers it as 11:50 p.m., and you feel a slight pang in your gut that the time to move is now.  

You set the plastic cup on the coffee table in front of you and start off, without much of a care for who would be the poor soul to clean it up.  The stairs are ascended quickly, and alarms in your mind begin to go off fervently.  Wherever your evening’s chaperone had gone, he wasn’t worth getting potentially arrested for.  The kitchen and living room are passed briskly, and while the quick removal of such loud noises is nothing short of disorienting, the sound of approaching sirens is enough to sober you completely.

The yard is left in the dust as you take to a full-sprint down the street, mentally cursing yourself for even coming in the first place.  Wherever the authorities were, you knew that potentially crossing paths with them would be a death wish.

You only slow down and exhale when you’re in your car seat, key jammed in the ignition and letting the engine roar to life.  Speeding home probably wouldn’t be the best course of action, but you can’t help the lead foot and lady luck allowing you to swing into the driveway with no detection.

Is this true nirvana, you wonder, narrowly escaping the law after a gut feeling in a place you weren’t even meant to be?  Whatever the case, you knew sleep would either be impossible to grasp, or come the moment it hit your pillow.

#writing.txt #work: wherever i may roam #patrick hockstetter #patrick hockstetter x reader #patrick hockstetter imagine #it 2017 #it 2017 fanfiction #bowers gang fanfiction #reader insert

[roonil-wazlib-at-221b]

A Handmaiden’s Lies: Part 2

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

About a year has passed since Tom last visited Avenge. He and his men spent quite a fair amount of time at Deesee, a neighboring kingdom known for mining precious jewels. In fact, they spent more time there than they normally did, so Tom cut their visit to the kingdom of Thanatoia short. It’s not like he and his men stick to a schedule or anything; they vaguely circulate between the three kingdoms to escape harsh winters and authority figures out for their heads.

It’s just that… well.

Not a day passed where Tom didn’t think of you. He was anxious and worried that something could happen to you and the way he’d find out is by waking up and discovering that the words on his forearm were gone. Or that you would find someone else and it would just be another cruel joke played by the universe to show Tom yet again that he is unlovable. Or that you would simply forget about him.

“Worrying is normal,” Haz told him again and again. “Soulmates aren’t meant to be apart for so long. It’s like how you would be worried for me if I was lost, only… worse.”

A lot worse, Tom had mentally agreed every time.

But now he’s back. Surely you’ll come to visit, right? You’ll hear about him and his men back in the kingdom you’re so protective of and you’ll come to check on them to make sure nobody’s misbehaving.

Right?

No.

A full week passes and nothing. Tom’s seething. Haz and Paddy let all the horses out of a rich man’s stable four days ago. Sam and Harry robbed a bank at gunpoint three days ago. William stole a carriage and Tomas crashed it yesterday.

Nothing.

And Tom’s livid. It’s been entirely too long and you’re ignoring him and he can hardly march up to the castle and demand to see you, can he? Especially because he doesn’t even know your name.

That’s a big part of why he’s angry. You know his. Tom hadn’t even bothered to ask you what yours is. So, really, if you decide to stay away for life, Tom can hardly stop you, can he?

So that is why he is walking up Iron Street, throwing Molotov cocktails at every carriage he sees.

Well, every empty carriage. You’re already going to be pissed about the property damage. Killing someone might be crossing the line.

Tom cheerfully lights another rag and hurls it at a red-and-gold carriage. How dare these people be wealthy when Tom and his men live in squalor. How dare these families be unbroken when his own parents told him he was unlovable at seven years old and left him and his brothers at an orphanage. How dare these couples be happy when Tom’s own soulmate wants nothing to do with him.

“That’s enough,” Z says at his side. “I’m sure she’ll get the hint.”

Tom snorts as he surveys the chaos. People running and yelling, carriages and carts going up in flames, and no one has the nerve to tell Tom to stop. Everyone knows by now that the Holland gang comes by every spring and they leave when they damn well please.

Someone shoves Tom from behind hard and he goes sprawling.

Already snarling, Tom jumps to his feet and turns around. His hands and knees sting from taking a fall on hard, unforgiving pebbles, and his pride is even more bruised but all that is forgotten when he sees who his assailant is.

“You call this a hint?” you snap at Zendaya with surprising ferocity.

“What’s your name?” Tom blurts out immediately. He might just die if you don’t transfer your attention back to him this very second.

Your mouth drops open wide and you just blink at Tom. Your hair is coming out of its braid and two pink spots of anger have appeared high on your cheekbones. You look simultaneously exactly like and nothing like the statue you’d been when Tom first met you. Finally you say slowly, “You destroy my kingdom with acts of terrorism, threaten my people’s lives, and steal our hard-earned money all because of a hissy fit that you don’t know my name?”

Tom winces. When you say it like that, it doesn’t sound as reasonable as it had been in Tom’s head. “I knew you’d never meet me otherwise.”

“Let’s go back to the camp,” Zendaya suggests. She doesn’t quail under the thunderous look you send her way. “That way you two can talk in private.”

Tom bites his lip anxiously. Thank God, but you say yes, and follow Zendaya as she leads the way out of the partially burnt capital city.

Tom studies your face as he walks. You’re just as beautiful as he remembers—more, even, if that is even possibly. But he also notices dark circles under your eyes, a bandage on your right pointer finger, and shoulders that slump slightly. The clues are faint but there and Tom’s chest floods with rage and concern at the thought of you being anything less than healthy.

“What happened to your finger?” he asks quietly.

You shake your head. “I just burnt it on a candle. It’s not a big deal.” Your hand goes to your skirt. Now Tom sees that there is something in a pocket he hadn’t noticed. He can see its outline as you walk.

His soulmate wouldn’t try to hurt him, Tom reasons. There’s no reason to be worried about something in your pocket that could be, quite literally, anything.

You manage the trek to the camp through the forest quite well, though you are breathing heavier by the time you arrive. Tom hopes he just imagines the condescending look Zendaya sends you. He wants the two most important women in his life to get along.

Haz looks up at your arrival. To Tom’s surprise, his face splits into a great grin when he sees you. You let out a squeak as his arms encircle your body.

Tom tries not to be jealous that his best mate is hugging his soulmate—actually lifting you into the air. He fails miserably and Zendaya snickers as she links hands with George.

“What are you doing?” you manage. Tom gets the feeling you’d be shoving Haz away if your arms weren’t trapped at your side with his.

“It’s a hug,” Harrison replies, setting you down. Confusion flashes over his features. “You do know what a hug is, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” you scoff. “But I have no idea who you are other than the boy who tried to choke me last year. So—”

“You’re family now,” Harrison shrugs. For the second time in as many hours, you’re at a loss for words. “I’m Harrison, by the way.”

You ease your hand into his outstretched one and give it a loose shake. Tom doesn’t miss the way you drop Haz’s hand as quick as you can and then wipe your hand on your skirt. “Y/N.”

He scowls. What, you’re too good to shake hands with a criminal now? Your own soulmate is a gang leader.

Then again, he knows your name now.

“Where’s your friend?” Tomas asks loudly. He’d spotted you and, still bearing a grudge from last year when you’d called him some unsavory words, is more than happy to needle you. Unfortunately, his raised tone draws attention. Suddenly there’s a crowd watching your every move, eager to pounce on weakness after that commotion you’d caused last year.

Tom spots Paddy pushing his way through the crowd, eyes fixed solely on you with a thunderous expression on his face.

Shit. He doesn’t know you’re his soulmate. Tom hadn’t told anyone but Haz. He hadn’t really had a choice about that, too; an explanation was necessary when Haz had seen his arm. Something told Tom you wouldn’t want the news spread, considering you wanted him to leave so badly. Judging by your raised eyebrows and head tilted towards Haz, it was the right call.

“I’m quite flattered to see you all remember me,” you say. “I must have made quite the impression.”

Beside Tom, Zendaya snorts. “You’re not going to be able to handle this one, Tom. This is going to be hilarious.” Wait—does she know? Tom looks at Z, who winks. Shit.

“I must be extremely special,” you continue, “for a group of half-witted common thieves to remember me when I can hardly even expect them to remember what they had for breakfast.”

That does it. Paddy lunges at you as people start to shout. Then William, who was still struggling to understand what you said, sees Paddy lunge at you and bawls, “Fight!” He then proceeds to uppercut Tomas right into Sam, and it all gets worse from there.

“Aw, hell,” Tom mutters, surveying the camp full of brawling kids. He sighs and sidesteps around two camp girls who are screeching and clawing at each other. You’re being pinned by Paddy, his arm pressed against your throat. “Paddy, stop!” He orders sharply. His little brother looks up at that, scowling, and you use the distraction to bring your knee up between his legs and bite down on his arm. Paddy spits out some unsavory words and rolls off of you.

“You were goading them,” Tom remarks with a half-laugh as he surveys the camp. You huff, standing up and rubbing at your neck with a vague look of consternation.

“Hardly.” You smooth your hair with one hand. “I’d barely started. One couldn’t dare to call one step a footrace, would they?” Maybe you had more to say, but Paddy lunges for you again.

“Where’re your Chiefs now, handmaiden?” he goads. “Maybe you’re not as important as you think to your—”

Tom steps forward, teeth grinding both at the cynical anger that his brother—his subordinate—is disobeying his orders, and the instinctual rage that someone else is touching you, someone else is hurting you—but he jerks to a halt when an arrow seemingly sprouts from a tree beside Paddy. It misses Tom’s brother by less than an inch.

“I’d say they’re still here,” you grunt from where you are underneath Paddy, “but I think that message has been received.”

“Get off her, Paddy,” Tom orders. For once his brother listens.

How you manage to look dignified as you sit up, Tom doesn’t know. You rise to your feet gracefully, still looking like all this is beneath you even though you’ve got a bloody lip and a skinned elbow. Tom doesn’t think even Zendaya could look so cool under pressure. Then again, Z rarely has legendary, mystical Chiefs guarding her ass.

“What, you need the trump card to win a fight?” Paddy snarls. “Typical. You castle women—”

“Patrick goddamn Holland!” Tom barks. “Listen to me: back. Off. If you can’t listen to my orders then don’t follow us.”

“Where are you going?” the younger Holland asks, the shock of being referred to by his birth name distracting him from the attack mission he’d set himself on earlier. He has the decency to look sheepish when he runs his hand through his hair, transforming from a rabid wolf about to pounce to a curious dog.

“To my tent,” Tom answers, “to talk.”

“Why?” Paddy asks. It’s the straw that breaks the horse’s back. “What could she—”

“None of your goddamn business!” Tom snaps. “Now you fix up this mess you started while the grownups talk!”

A stony expression sets his jaw. Paddy spins on his heel. Tom almost calls out to him, especially when Zendaya remarks that his reaction had been a bit harsh.

“Holland set very clear instructions and the boy failed to follow them,” you counter as Paddy clears up the fighting. “Everyone must learn their place eventually.”

Tom glances at you but your expression is unreadable. It sounded like you were giving him a compliment. Or at least saying that Tom wasn’t in the wrong.

“But Paddy was right,” Harrison admits while holding up the entrance to Tom’s tent and ducking inside. “What is there to discuss? I mean, I’m sure we have extra tents but you’ll probably just sleep in Tom’s, right?”

Tom grimaces. So he hadn’t told Haz about you not being in a particular hurry to get together. The strangled choke you let out while entering doesn’t encourage him at all.

“I did not come here to discuss anything of that sort,” you say primly, making yourself at home by settling down and arranging your skirt. Instinctively everyone else sits down as well. You just have that ‘leader’ sort of aura. Tom doesn’t have to wonder why you’re the queen’s assistant.

“So it’s true,” Zendaya remarks. “I thought so when I saw the words on your arm, Tom, but I wasn’t sure.”

“Who exactly knows about our situation?” you ask with exasperation as you turn to Tom.

“I’m sorry, what’s the ‘situation’ here?” Harrison asks. Tom can see his friend’s face going thunderous but can’t catch his eye to tell Haz to stop, as he’s staring resolutely at you.

“I have a kingdom to run,” you snap. “Once things are calmer then maybe—”

“I’m sorry, isn’t it the queen’s job to run Marvel?” Zendaya interrupts. “You’re just her assistant.”

“I—we—it is a group effort. No man can take on a mountain.” You flick a piece of dirt off of your skirt.

“Oh, honey, you’re still bleeding,” Zendaya notices.

“What?” you put one hand to your lip. Your fingertips come away red. “Oh. I thought…”

“So you don’t care that Tom’s your soulmate?” Harrison interrupts. Zendaya dabs at your lip with one of Tom’s spare shirts she’d found lying on the floor. Tom is too invested in waiting for your answer to be embarrassed by his messy living space.

“Of course I do!” you reply, affronted. Tom sucks in a breath of air that is entirely too ragged and loud. “But as I’ve said before, I have bigger things to worry about.” You push Zendaya away.

Harrison casts his eyes to Tom, who’s sitting subdued in his chair, eyes on the ground. Because Tom sure won’t say it, Harrison tells you that excuse is a steaming pile of crap.

Your lip curls and eyes flash dangerously. Before Tom can say ‘Oh, no’ you’re on your feet. “I don’t care what a bastard reject boy thinks of me or my reasoning. Holland is not the only person whose feelings have to be considered in this situation. I am—”

Harrison spits on your skirt, no doubt regretting the hug he’d greeted you with. You close your eyes and look up, a muscle ticking in your jaw.

“Haz,” Tom warns. He lets the blond get away with a lot more than most, but he’s rapidly approaching a line it would be best not to cross.

“Dude, I cannot believe how bad your luck can be sometimes!” Harrison exclaims. “Typical Holland luck strikes again. Out of everyone in the world, you got paired up with this bitch! What are the odds that you get the worst soulmate—”

“Enough!” Tom yells. It’s too late. Zendaya is already grabbing your arm and pulling you out of the tent. “Nice, Haz.”

Harrison scowls. “Hey, I’m calling it like I see it. There’s got to be a mistake. No way the universe hates you that much.”

“Haz, even we know about the brewing war between Marvel and Thanatoia,” Tom reasons. “Once that’s all over we can be together.”

“Have you seen her, mate?” Harrison demands, snapping his fingers in front of Tom like that’s going to wake him up. “Why would you want to be with that?”

“Because she’s my soulmate,” Tom says stubbornly.

Harrison rolls his eyes. “You poor stupid son of a bitch.”

“Excuse me?”

“Soulmates don’t always work out, Tom,” Harrison points out. “And people marry people that aren’t their soulmate all the time. Just because you’re most compatible with Y/N doesn’t mean you’re not moderately compatible with someone else.”

“She has to love me,” Tom insists. “Y/N’s my soulmate.”

He stomps out of the tent and looks around for Zendaya and George’s tent. If he can just talk to you longer, Tom will be able to convince you to give them a try. He knows he can.

As he draws nearer to the tent, he can’t help himself; he stops outside to listen to the conversation.

“—really very excited,” Zendaya says. “The year was practically torture for him, and I can tell it was for you as well.”

You must shake your head or open your mouth to contradict her, because Z tells you not to lie.

“Trust me,” she continues, “I’ve spent enough time away from my soulmate to know what you were going through. You’re tough as hell to make it a whole year but everyone here already knows that. You don’t need to prove more.”

There’s silence inside the tent for so long Tom is about to walk away when you ask, “Can you tell me about him?”

A shocked smile spreads across Tom’s face.

“Well, Tom is a total softie,” Zendaya starts with. “He loves dogs in particular but he likes all animals except birds and lizards.”

You giggle and Tom’s stomach drops.

“And, let’s see,” Zendaya continues. Tom can picture her putting her finger to her chin as she thinks. “He can’t stand blueberries but loves pretty much every other type of berry. And…”

A Handmaiden’s Lies Taglist:

@andreasworlsboring101 @juliebean247

Forever Taglist:

@lemirabitur @annymcervantes @queenmissfit @quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @iksey @thehyperactiveteen @luxmoonlight @andreasworlsboring101​

Let me know what you all thought or if you’d like me to put you on a taglist!

#tom holland #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #reader x tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #reader insert #you x tom holland #MCU #mcu au #mcu fanfic #harrison osterfield #au #robin hood au #soulmate au #zendaya

[aion-rsa]

13 Best Blumhouse Horror Movies Ranked

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Has any single person had a greater impact on horror this century than Jason Blum? The one-time Miramax executive struck out on his own in the 2000s when he founded Blumhouse Productions, a company where he remains the CEO. And in the ensuing years, Blum’s production label would define, and redefine again, the trends of horror movies and thrillers.

Operating on the philosophy that a horror film with a micro-budget will almost always turn a profit, Blum frequently allows directors broad freedom to make what they want within the genre, and in the process has kept multiplexes perpetually spooky. In 2009 Blumhouse helped reinvent the found footage horror aesthetic, and in the 2010s, the modern phenomenon of talent-focused horror gems began with Blumhouse’s gambles.

Working with filmmakers like James Wan, Scott Derrickson, Ethan Hawke, and Jordan Peele, Blumhouse Productions’ title card is now a promise of something different, if still eminently commercial and entertaining. It even paved the way for the controversial modern discourse around “elevated” horror, with Peele’s Get Out being the first chiller to win an Oscar for screenwriting since The Silence of the Lambs.

So with a new Blumhouse horror movie in theaters this Friday the 13th, we thought it a good time to count down the 13 best Blumhouse efforts that paid off with a bloody good time.

13. Hush

At the bottom of our top 13 is this taut thriller from Mike Flanagan, director The Haunting of series and Doctor Sleep fame. Flanagan and his co-writer and star (and also wife), Kate Siegel, wanted to make a horror movie with little to no dialogue. So they came up with this concept of a deaf-mute woman (Siegel) in a remote house, who is stalked by a killer with a crossbow. Hush is at its peak in the first 20 minutes as the masked man (10 Cloverfield Lane’s John Gallagher Jr.) realizes his quarry can’t actually hear him and begins to play games.

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The pair’s relationship with sound makes an interesting dynamic in this tense home invasion movie, though the cat and mouse chase does grow somewhat repetitive and generic as the film progresses. Still, a fine performance from Siegel and an indication of what Flanagan could do on a small budget make this very much worth checking out. – Rosie Fletcher

12. Happy Death Day

The Groundhog Day formula where an odious person is doomed to relive the same day countless times has proven remarkably flexible. And Happy Death Day is no exception with its horror-comedy blend of Punxsutawney hijinks and ‘80s slasher movie clichés. Starring a ridiculously game Jessica Rothe as Tree, the sorority girl who is constantly waking up with the hangover from hell, Happy Death Day follows the typical “Queen Bee” slasher archetype, and forces her to relive the same horror movie again and again. Until she can figure out who her masked killer is, and maybe how to be a better person, she’s condemned to die in increasingly preposterous ways. Worse still, she must also wake up in a dormitory afterward.

It’s derivative in a million different ways, but delightful in many more thanks to a cheeky atmosphere from director Christopher Landon and a very savvy, self-aware script by Scott Lobdell. Most of all though, it benefits from Rothe’s comedic talents on full display, as she backflips between initial verbal bitchiness and constant physical comedy. She even manages to find a little pathos, one stab wound at a time. – David Crow

11. The Visit

The Sixth Sense may remain M. Night Shyamalan’s masterpiece, but it was an oft-referenced moment from a different film that became key to Blumhouse pulling him back from the brink of irrelevance.

Having made four objectively terrible movies in a row, including the notoriously bad wind-smeller The Happening, Shyamalan seemingly decided to use what he’d learned from a very effective part of 2002’s Signs, where Joaquin Phoenix reacts to a tense home movie of an alien sighting, and took the next logical step: What if the director put together 90 minutes of unsettling home movie moments just like that?

Your mileage may vary with the handheld, mockumentary style of The Visit, but it’s hard to argue that this brisk, low-budget tale of two young siblings staying with some very, very odd grandparents they’ve never met before could play out more wildly than it does here. And Shyamalan certainly doesn’t pull many punches when it comes to putting those poor kids in peril during the film’s climax. – Kirsten Howard

10. Creep

No, not the one set on the subway, this Creep, directed by Patrick Brice, written by Brice and Mark Duplass, and also starring them both in a tense two-hander, is an altogether more unsettling affair. Brice plays Aaron, a videographer who answers an ad posted by Josef (Duplass), the latter saying he’s dying and wants a video diary made to leave to his son. But Josef’s behavior is weird – exactly how weird is too weird is the challenge faced by Aaron.

At just 77 mins long, this is a compact, unusual, often funny movie which picks at male relationships in the modern day, and how far kindness and politeness can override instinct. Duplass and Brice are incredibly natural in a film that’s extremely unusual, steeped in unease but not really like a traditional horror, with laughter and tension relief keeping you on your toes throughout. There’s a sequel which is good too, though if you can watch the first without spoilers it delivers a particular kind of dread that’s hard to replicate. – RF

9. Upgrade

A couple of decades ago, there were plenty of films around like Upgrade. You didn’t even have to move for fun sci-fi action movies, really! But the glory days of never having to wait for the next Equilibrium, Gattaca, Cypher, or even Jet Li’s The One are long behind us. It’s pretty tough to get a slick little concept movie made when you’re expected to compete with huge action tentpoles at the box office—unless you’re Leigh Whannell, one of Blumhouse’s integral puzzle pieces.

Whannell paid his dues at the production house for 15 years as both a writer and helmer before unleashing his sophomore directorial effort, Upgrade. The film, which follows ludicrously named technophobe Grey Trace after he loses his beloved wife in a violent mugging, sees a paralyzed hero get implanted with a chatty chip that allows him to regain the use of his whole body. Soon Trace become virtually superhuman—imagine an internal K.I.T.T.—but all is not as it seems.

It shouldn’t be as delightful as it is. Admittedly, the whole thing isn’t too far removed from an elevated episode of The Outer Limits. But if you miss old school sci-fi nonsense and feel nostalgic for a time when smart sci-fi projects didn’t end up as eight drawn out episodes on a major streaming service instead, Upgrade really scratches an itch.

Of course now might be a bad time to mention that an Upgrade TV series is in the works… – KH

8. Halloween

In resurrecting one of horror’s most enduring—yet stubbornly uneven—franchises, director David Gordon Green (working with screenwriters Danny McBride and Jeff Fradley) made the smartest move he could: He stripped away the ridiculously convoluted and nonsensical mythology the franchise had built up over decades. Instead he simply made a direct sequel to Carpenter’s 1978 masterpiece.

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The result was easily the best Halloween movie since the original itself, bringing the characters and the story into the present while reverting Michael Myers back to the enigmatic, unstoppable, unknowable force that was so terrifying in the first film. Jamie Lee Curtis, Judy Greer, and Andi Matichak as three generations of Strode women bring healthy feminine empowerment to the proceedings while the intense violence and uneasy psychological underpinnings give this Halloween a resonance that has been lacking for so long. – Don Kaye

7. Split

As the movie that suggested M. Night Shyamalan’s renaissance was real, Split is still a surprising box office win for the eclectic filmmaker. With a grizzly premise about a man suffering from Dissociative Identity Disorder (formerly known as split personality) kidnapping teen girls to hold in a zoo, this could be the stuff of ‘70s grindhouse sleaze. While there is a touch of that to Split, more critically the movie acts as a buoyant showcase for James McAvoy at his most unbound.

Playing a character with 24 different personalities, a shaved and beefy McAvoy is visibly giddy bouncing between multiple alters that include a deceptively sweet little boy, an OCD fashion designer, and a bestial final form. The commitment he shows to each also becomes its own special effect, causing you to swear his physical shape is changing with his expressions.

Similarly, scenes with theater legend Betty Buckley as his psychiatrist also rivet with the energy of a stage play, and suggest a sincere sympathy for mental illness. A rarity in horror. Nevertheless, the movie still comes down to his alters’ obsessions with their kidnapped prize (Anya Taylor-Joy), a young woman who hides demons of her own. When these true selves finally cross paths in a genuinely tense finale, Split is maniacally thrilling. – DC

6. Sinister

An unsettling entry in the horror subgenre of writers who destroy their families, Sinister marked director/co-writer Scott Derrickson’s (The Exorcism of Emily Rose) return to horror after he detoured with an ill-fated remake of The Day the Earth Stood Still. Thus Derrickson and co-writer C. Robert Cargill concocted a unique, if somewhat scattershot, mythology about a pagan deity that murders entire families in the ghastliest ways imaginable.

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True crime writer Ethan Hawke discovers the extent of those murders in a box of 8mm films left in the attic of his new home (where the last killings took place), and it’s the unspooling of those films—along with long sequences of Hawke moving through the shadows and silence of the house—that provide Sinister with its sickening core and palpable dread. Derrickson sustains the film’s foreboding mood for the entire running time, making the movie an authentically frightening experience. – DK

5. Oculus

The film that brought much of the world’s attention to Mike Flanagan, Oculus turned out to be a preview for the horror filmmaker’s interests. It also remains a truly unnerving ghost story. Not since the days of Dead of Night has a film so successfully made you scared of looking in a mirror.

Officially titled the Lasser Glass, the mirror in question is the apparent supernatural cause of hundreds of deaths, including the parents of Kaylie Russell (Karen Gillan) and her brother Tim (Brenton Thwaites). When they were children, their mother starved and mutilated herself before their father killed her. But now as an adult, Kaylie is convinced she can prove the antique glass is the true culprit, and she’ll document its evil power before destroying it. But the funny thing about evil mirrors is they have ways of protecting themselves, and wreaking havoc on a sense of time, place, and certainly self-image.

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With the movie’s near masterful blending of events occurring 11 years ago and in the present, Flanagan revealed a knack for dreamlike structure, and stories about the past damning the future. These are ideas he’s gone on to explore in richer detail with The Haunting of Hill House and Doctor Sleep, but Flanagan’s ability to juxtapose childhood trauma with a nightmarish present was never more potent, or tragic, than in Oculus’ refracted gaze. – DC

4. Paranormal Activity

It may take some mental gymnastics, but if you can take a step back and ignore all the sequels that followed in the wake of this surprise 2009 blockbuster, then you’d remember Paranormal Activity is a stone cold classic. It is also the movie that put Blumhouse on the map. Already mostly finished when Jason Blum saw a DVD screener of Oren Peli’s Paranormal Activity, this $15,000-budgeted terror is arguably the most evocative use of found footage in all of horror.

While Peli is obviously influenced by 1999’s The Blair Witch Project, that earlier movie is as famous for its shaky disorientation as it is its scares. By contrast what occurs in Paranormal Activity is excruciatingly clear. Seriously, the camera barely moves! Instead we’re asked to sit back and watch in near slow motion as an unwise couple (Katie Featherston and Micah Sloat) meddle with forces that were better off left undisturbed.

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It begins when Micah brings a home video camera into their house to track apparent ghosts in the dark; it ends in a demonic rush of violence. Everything in between is tracked by a disinterested lens, which usually sits statically in a corner or on a tripod, capturing the tedium of everyday life in its everyday natural lighting. Only occasionally does the horned shadow on the wall manifest. But then Paranormal Activity is chilling in its isolation. – DC

3. Insidious

As the fourth feature film directed by Australian filmmaker James Wan, Insidious follows a couple named Josh and Renai Lambert (Patrick Wilson and Rose Byrne), whose son inexplicably falls into a coma and becomes a vessel for malevolent entities from a dimension called the Further. The family enlists a psychic named Elise Rainier (Lin Shaye) in a battle involving astral projection and demonic possession.

Following an era of horror films that were more torture porn or police procedural (including Wan’s own Saw), Insidious was a return to the kind of horror filmmaking that was dependent on atmosphere, suspense, and what you don’t see lurking in the shadows. And Wan seemed to imbue that creepiness around the edges of every shot. Using actual adult characters and developing them (as opposed to the hipster teens that infested nearly every horror movie for at least 10 years previously) also set the film apart as a serious attempt at a genre that had been too often exploited in a tossed-off fashion.

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The world-building of Insidious left the door open for sequels, of course, and while the three produced so far have had their moments, none has matched the sheer invention and terrifying fun of the original. – DK

2. The Invisible Man

Leigh Whannell’s reimagining of the classic Universal Monster, the Invisible Man, was as much of a surprise when it hit screens earlier this year as the titular villain himself. As a smart social commentary on domestic abuse and gaslighting, while also being enormously effective as a straight up horror, this was a highly fresh take on an old standard.

At the core was the terrific performance of Elisabeth Moss as Cecilia, a woman stuck with her controlling boyfriend Adrian (Oliver Jackson-Cohen) in their high-tech, high security fortress of a home. When Cece finally manages to escape and Adrian appears to take his own life, she hopes her ordeal can finally be over. But in fact it’s just beginning.

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Playing on the true horror of not being believed, Whannell’s Invisible Man is as harrowing at times as it is thrilling. Yes, there are some extraordinarily shocking set pieces – the restaurant scene of course stands out – but it’s the increasing desperation of Cece, whose world is falling apart at the manipulative hands of a man who won’t let her go, which stays with you.

The Invisible Man is a thrilling horror, for sure, with a feel good ending (if you want to read it that way…), but it’s something altogether more exciting than that too: a fresh, relevant take on a classic, expertly directed and boasting star power delivered on a moderate budget, which flexes exactly what horror can do. – RF

1. Get Out

More impressive than any awards it won, Jordan Peele’s Get Out encapsulates the essential draw of horror: through entertaining “scares,” it unmasks truths folks might find too horrifying or uncomfortable to acknowledge. In the case of Get Out, it is the despair of Blackness and Black bodies still being commodified by a predatory American culture.

Wearing influences like Rosemary’s Baby and Stepford Wives on his sleeve, Peele pulls from classic horror conventions for his directorial debut, but gives them a startling 21st century sheen. His movie’s insidious conspiracy is neither an obvious coven of witches or the openly racist heavies of a period piece. Rather Peele sets his story about a Black man (Daniel Kaluuya) coming to meet his white girlfriend’s parents in a liberal conclave of wealthy suburbia. Written during the final days of the Obama years, Peele casts these parents (Bradley Whitford and Catherine Keener) as genial and welcoming, shielding cries of racism behind fashionable political correctness.

Yet once Peele moves past that trendy veneer, he finds a potent allegory in which the ghosts of slavery are still alive and well, even in Upstate New York. Peele also packs anxieties about interracial relationships, culture clash, and childhood trauma into a film that is nevertheless gregariously funny. Ultimately though, its final effect is triggering in the best way. Get Out offers an opportunity to confront real dread, one uneasy laugh, and then sudden jump scare, at a time. – DC

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[victorineb]

On a moonlit Halloween night… 

“This is ridiculous. How are we getting away with this?” Will had adopted a theatrical whisper that, in Hannibal’s opinion, was more likely to draw attention than their current, admittedly fairly dramatic, appearance.  

“Most people do not share our intimate familiarity with the substance,” Hannibal whispered back, leaning into the side of Will’s throat to breathe in the scent of blood and sweat. “Nor your particular fondness for it, my love,” he added, just to see Will blush like he hadn't ravished Hannibal next to a still-warm corpse not half an hour ago.

“Shut up,” Will said, elbowing Hannibal in the side as if irritated, though the smile he couldn’t quite rein in put the lie to that idea. “They’re so content in their blindness. We’re dripping in viscera and yet the guys in the giant Pikachu suit got more attention than we have.”

“Are you disappointed, mylimasis? Were you hoping to instil terror amongst the crowd, to watch as they shrank from your magnificence, to bask in their fear as they recognised the hunter in their midst?”

“Shut. Up!” This time Will grabbed Hannibal and shoved him against a convenient wall, immediately pissed off that the fond, amused smile on Hannibal’s face didn’t falter for a moment. He shoved his leg between Hannibal’s thighs – causing a symphony of plastic squealing as their murder suits rubbed together – and that got a reaction, Hannibal’s eyes fluttering as he snatched in a breath. Will let him wait for a moment, making no move other than to gently rock his leg against the stiffness he could feel rising beneath it. He watched Hannibal with the sharp gaze of a predator awaiting the moment their prey breaks from cover, and when Hannibal’s lips parted slightly, he surged forward to devour them.  

He allowed himself the span of two minutes to work Hannibal up, biting at his mouth and pressing against his body, hips rolling just enough to have Hannibal straining against his hold. Then, mercilessly, he pulled back completely, watching with satisfaction as the dazed look in Hannibal’s eyes turned dark and wanting. Will grinned.

“Now, behave. Or I will put a leash on you and teach you obedience.”

With a smack to his thigh just short of truly painful, Will turned from his panting cannibal and began sauntering off, pausing only to check that he was being followed and finding Hannibal peeling himself from the wall with a hungry gleam in his eye.

“Down boy,” he teased as Hannibal stalked towards him. “Blood’s one thing but a public sex show will attract an audience, even on Halloween.”

Hannibal stepped straight into his space, sliding his face into the crook of Will’s shoulder and breathing deep. “As if I would allow another’s eyes to behold you as you writhe in ecstasy,” he growled, biting tenderly at the tendon in Will’s neck. “Slaughter thousands in the clear light of day and I would only watch in admiration, but your body and your pleasure belong only to me, beloved.”

Will grinned, sharp and amused, then grabbed Hannibal’s hair and yanked him upwards. “Likewise,” he said, and once more crushed his lips to Hannibal’s, blood smearing and sliding messily between them. And when they parted this time, it was only to rush with hurried footsteps back home, hands clasped tight in promise of the closer touch that would-

“Murder husbands!”

Will tensed and froze mid-step. Hannibal suspected he would have already bundled the young man pointing at them into the nearest available alley had he not been held in place by Hannibal's grip on his arm. It wouldn't do for Will to go off half-cocked (the consequences tended to be messy) and, besides, it wasn't fear with which they were being regarded. The young man – early-twenties, clearly inebriated, dressed in a swirling black cloak and clutching a bright red sword of some sort – was beaming at the pair with enthusiastic delight.

“You're the first to correctly identify us,” Hannibal said, his tone affable and pleased and giving absolutely no hint that he would snap this young man’s rather scrawny neck at the first sign of a threat.

The young man grinned and shook his head. “Yeah, I bet most people think you're a couple of Patrick Batemans, with the plastic get-up and the blood. Dummies. Obviously you're them, Will and Hannibal; Bateman had a raincoat, not a onesie!”

Will fidgeted as their admirer rambled, clearly uncomfortable with the scrutiny. Hannibal, for his part, though not exactly pleased by the description of his hunting suit as a “onesie,” was rather amused by the young man’s familiarity with his story, allowing him to give a semi-factual account of their previous life he had clearly put together from Internet chatrooms and the ever-lurid speculation of one Freddie Lounds. Until:

“I mean, your costumes are almost perfect.”

Hannibal frowned. “Almost?”

“Yeah, I mean, obviously the real Will Graham's a lot shorter than your friend. Like, you should be towering over him, but I guess you can't do anything about that.”

“Indeed, I could hardly be said to dwarf my dear husband.”

“I mean, I guess you could wear lifts like Robert Downey... oh wait, you're really married? I thought maybe the rings were just part of the costume…”

“Mmm, for almost six months now,” Hannibal replied, squeezing Will’s arm and smirking at the glower he got in response.

“Ok, cool. So, also, your husband's way too built to be Will – the real one’s all scrawny and delicate, no muscles on him at all. The hair’s good though, and the scowling - it's amazing nobody realised Graham was a killer for so long, every photo of him looks like he'd murder everyone in a ten mile radius just for existing.”

“Might still,” Will muttered, so low that even Hannibal barely heard it. He smirked and tried not to get distracted by the image of Will cutting a bloody swathe through the throngs of be-costumed revellers. Instead, he delivered a small pinch to the inside of Will’s elbow and returned his attention to their admirer.

“Forgive me if I'm not too disappointed that my husband is a more impressive specimen than the actual Mr Graham,” he said, with a wink that automatically caused Will to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, don't blame you,” the young man grinned in response. “And you're pretty much dead on. I mean, you're not blond and your eyes aren't red but you've got his cheekbones, for sure. And the accent. Just one thing, though,”

“Oh?” Hannibal raised a brow.

“Well, it's just that Lecter would never go around being so obviously affectionate. I mean, he's an evil sociopath, right, so he can't feel love? Whereas you guys, it's so obvious that you're totally into each other, no way Lecter and Graham would behave like that. Especially you,” he said, gesturing towards a rapidly-less-amused Hannibal, “you were pretty much draped all over your ‘Will’ here, Lecter’s way too much of a cold fish for that!”

“Cold… fish…” Hannibal said, slowly, leaning into the young man’s space. “You know, your manners could be considered somewhat lacking, my friend…”

The young man’s expression faltered for the first time, the always-satisfying first gleam of fear flashing in his eyes. But just as Hannibal was about to kick his feet from under him and teach him the true meaning of horror, he heard a snicker from behind and felt Will pull him back to his side, nuzzling them together.

“Come on, babe, he already complimented the costumes, you don’t have to give him your scary Doctor Lecter impression too. Besides,” he added, leaning in to kiss his still-coiled husband on the cheek, “you know he’s right. I’d never have fallen for that uptight, pretentious, emotionless asshole. Not even if he does look fine as hell in those suits of his.”

Hannibal peered down at him, inscrutable. “Fine as hell, is that what you think?”

“Guilty secret, huh?” the young man asked, apparently recovered enough to watch them with the amusement of one who has no idea how close he is to death.

Will winked at him. “One of many, I’m afraid.”

“Ought I to be jealous of this fine young cannibal?” Hannibal purred, the monster already tucked back safely beneath the sheen of avuncular friendliness.

“Absolutely, I’m going to abandon you, my brand new husband, and run off with the fancy cannibal who has a habit of cutting into his boyfriends. What can I say, I can’t resist the lure of a romantic gutting.” Will grinned sweetly at Hannibal. “Come on, what kind of fool would do that?”

“Will Graham?” the young man suggested, clearly having bought Will’s lie hook, line and sinker.

“And I am most definitely not Will Graham,” Will said, nodding at him in agreement.

“Lucky for me, I guess,” the young man said. “Hey, any chance I could take a selfie with you?”

It was Will’s turn to tense at the suggestion – albeit it more out of a hatred of being photographed than any sense of danger – but thankfully Hannibal had never met a fool he couldn’t charm the sense out of. “Ah, but then you might be tempted to post it where the good people of the FBI could see and we couldn’t have that, could we?” He wagged a finger gently at the young man and Will thought that was spreading it on a bit thick but it seemed to work with the professorial persona Hannibal had adopted because the young man laughed, holding up his hands in mock surrender.

“Ok, ok, I can take a hint. Wouldn’t want to wind up on your dinner table, right?”

“Definitely not,” Will agreed. “It’s from Ikea, it probably wouldn’t take your weight.”

The young man gave this a bigger laugh than it probably deserved, which meant he missed the fleeting, outraged glare Hannibal gave Will for even daring to suggest he would shop at Ikea. “Ok, well, I gotta go, lot of tricks still to be treated, you know? Have a good night!” He stood back and took one last look at Will and Hannibal, shaking his head and saying, “Man, those costumes really are almost perfect, glad I got to see them.” And then he turned and disappeared along the street, cape flowing out behind him.

“Fascinating,” Hannibal murmured.

“Dangerous,” Will countered.

“I suppose now would be your opportunity to say ‘I told you so.’”

Will’s head whipped round and he glared at Hannibal. “Yes it is and yes I did and if you thought I’d be above saying so then you know me about as well as that kid does.”

“At least he does not believe you to be such a cold fish that even a modest amount of public affection is wholly out of character.” Hannibal was actually pouting and Will melted like he was looking at the last puppy in the pound.

“Please, if our best disguise involves you acting like my own personal boa constrictor, I'm not gonna be unhappy about it. Besides,” he said, lacing his fingers together with Hannibal’s, “I think I'd rather keep the real real Hannibal Lecter my little secret.”

“Oh? And which Hannibal Lecter would that be?”

“The one who is both a bloodthirsty, brutal, beautiful killer and a heart-eyed, loved-up, hopelessly besotted little love bunny.”

“Will…”

“The one who both fucked up my life, manipulated me and tried to force me to be something I wasn't and who saw the real Will Graham and freed me from an existence that was slowly killing me.”

“Will…”

“The one who is both a gigantic, fussy, pretentious pain in my ass and the love of my fucking life. And I'm the only one who gets to see him. All of him.”

“All?” Hannibal echoed, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

Will stepped in close and brought his lips to Hannibal’s ear, delivering a nip to the lobe before murmuring, “Yeah, but only if you can manage to get us home without any further incidents.”

Which, of course, Hannibal did, and in less than ten minutes to boot. For which trick, Will rewarded him with a quite magnificently big treat indeed.

#just a little silliness for halloween #hannibal #hannigram #hannibal fic #hannigram fic #murder husbands #my fic

[shit-uhm-sorry]

It all starts in one of Andrew's criminal justice classes. It was specifically for analyzing the sociology of criminals. (how victim-abuser relationships work, criminal empires, the structure of how criminals interact with other people, etc.)

Andrew likes his degree. He really does. And having to admit that, even to himself is as Bee would put it: a big step forward

He doesn't care enough to shove it away. It feels... interesting. The whole field is interesting.

But then theres times like- this.

That makes Andrew want to commit another felony himself.

It was not long after the Baltimore incident.

Only a month after.

And his sociology professor comes in with a peculiar pep in her step.

She sets down her notes for the day and waits for the rest of the students to file in.

Once everyone is settled she plastered on this big grin

"Everybody, I have something to share." She said it as if she was trying to contain her excitement but everyone knew she was practically bursting with it. "If any of you are avid on keeping up with news involving big criminal networks you would have seen an absolutely astounding albeit vague breakthrough about a month ago."

Andrew felt his stomach clench. If she was going where he thought she was going with this...

"Some of you criminal conspiracy theorists out there know all about infamous Wesninski scandal."

Andrew felt a spark of anger begin to boil but he absolutely refused to show anything outwardly. He heard some classmates that were the avid conspirators start to also whisper excitedly. Andrew clenched his hand into a fist under the desk so hard he could feel half moon marks forming on his palms.

"For those of you who dont..."

She then pressed a button on her remote and the projector started to turn on.

An article titled "The Blood of the Fallen Wesniski Family" appeared on the screen. It had the picture of a giant house-closer to a mansion-on the front that Andrew could only assume was the Wesninski's.

"This article was published this morning. A month ago there had been a news story about a big bust in the Wesninski house reporting several murders of the occupants inside, but the police refused to release any more information than that. It was huge, considering many had speculated exactly what has been happening involving the Wesninski's for years."

"But this morning the FBI finally released information about what had happened."

His professor scrolled down past the picture to start reading the article outloud.

"Nathan Wesninski, Lola Malcolm, Patrick DiMaccio and 7 other victims have been reported dead, found around and mostly in a hidden basement of the Wesninski household."

It then went on to talk about the cause of death, why the FBI had been withholding this information, and the speculation on who killed them.

Suddenly she scrolled down and a picture of Neil showed up. There were a few audible gasps in the room. A select couple were from recognition, the rest were from the shock of the images.

Andrew had seen Neil in the hotel. But that was after he had gotten medical care.

This was when the police and press had arrived right after he narrowly escaped death.

Andrew felt such a white hot rage that he could feel his lips curling upwards in a snarl.

Neil was being man handled by a cop in the image, his hair a matted mess and blood was everywhere. The lacerations and burns on his cheeks were stark against his pale face. The shirt- the fucking shirt that Andrew saw Neil leave in before the riot was stained with so much fresh blood and sweat.

The worst part-

The worst part though was that in the image Neil was doubled over laughing. His eyes were filled with panic and hysteria and his mouth was wide. Andrew could hear his own laughter filling his ears when Drake-

Andrew pushed that aside in favor of trying to contain his immense anger. To contain the temptation of burning this fucking school into the ground.

"Some of you might recognize this man. He actually goes to our very school" the professor informed the class with such elation.

"This is Nathaniel Wesninski. Nathan Wesninski's son. He barely survived the events of what happened that night, and informed the FBI that the suspicions the police and other crime enthusiasts have had over the Wesninski's were true."

Andrew tuned out the rest of his professors ramblings on the theories and the confirmed murders and tortures the Wesninski circle was involved in until the name Nathaniel was mentioned again.

"Nathaniel is actually on our Exy team-"

Andrew surprised himself when he heard himself snarl "His name is Neil Josten."

Suddenly all eyes shifted onto him. The woman then had a look on her face like she just realised who exactly was in the class room.

"Ah.. uh, yes Mr. Minyard is correct. Nathaniel and recently changed his name to Neil Josten in an effort to distance himself from the Wesninski history and name."

She seemed to realize how insensitive this entire situation was because her joy and excitement noticeably dimmed.

After a few more words she went on with the actual lesson that day.

Andrew couldn't pay attention. His focus much more attuned towards Bee's breathing exercises that weren't working in calming him down.

After class was over Andrew was just about to be leaving when his professor stopped him. "Ah Mr. Minyard, a word?"

Andrew turned his head but didnt come near her.

She sidled up to him instead and said "I know you are on the college Exy team, and I have seen you with Wesnin- ah Josten in the halls."

Andrew felt himself clenching his fists again

"I was wondering, if it is alright with him of course, if you could possibly talk to Mr. Josten and ask him if he'd be able to guest speak on the next lecture?"

Andrew stared at her in disbelief, but to her in must have just been a blank mask.

"How about this." Andrew started

"The next time you decide to use a student, a human being, that you are trained to teach and to respect and coincide with as something for you to squeal over like a scientist dissecting a specimen, ask yourself this. Am I being professional? Am I being a person with common sense? Am I being someone who can fall asleep without crying over how pathetic my life has become? I can already guess that the answer to all these questions is no. No you are not. So stow away this asinine facisnation with other people's serious trauma and act like a goddamn fucking professional."

Andrew then turned around and left without a word.

Later that day Andrew entered the dorm after his classes were done and set his things down.

Neil was on the couch already, spacing out looking at the wall.

"Browning called this morning." He said after Andrew had settled himself on the arm of the couch.

"Said that they released the information to the public about Baltimore."

Andrew showed no reaction to this information, which he knew Neil would interpret as Andrew already knowing.

Neil gave a cruel smile and looked at Andrew. "Do you know how many people have approached me today? Asking about it?"

Andrew kept his face blank, giving Neil the foundation of nothingness he needed.

There was a tense couple of minutes of just staring before Neil's smile finally cracked and he looked at his lap in defeat. Andrew could see how tired he was.

"They asked. They asked why I laughed."

Andrew finally moved to sit next to Neil and put a hand onto his neck for much needed comfort.

Neil side eyed Andrew and started elaborating "...There was an image the press took that had been withheld by the FBI until now... it was of me-"

He couldnt hear Neil say it. Couldnt hear Neil relive it. "I saw." Andrew interrupted.

Neil looked at him fully, twisting his body towards Andrew.

"Yes or no?" He asked in a quiet and weakened voice.

Andrew saw the fresh scars on Neil's face. Saw the black armbands he wore proudly. Saw the eyes that usually held such a burning fire but now only held a dim flame. He saw a man who has survived so much. He saw a man that he knew better than himself and he saw a man just like him.

"Yes."

Neil, very slowly, learned towards Andrew until his face was buried in his neck and his weight was on Andrew completely. He kept his hands to himself.

Andrew buried one of his hands in Neil's hair, rubbing circles in the scalp and with the other hand he gently grabbed one of Neil's to lace their fingers together.

A sighed escaped Neil's lips and tickled Andrew's neck, effectively giving him goosebumps all over his arms.

Andrew tilted his face into Neil's hair and murmured "I did too."

He knew Neil knew what he meant.

He knew Neil had heard his manic laughter when they discovered him bloody and numb and high on his pills.

Neil nuzzled in further, not responding.

The message was clear anyways.

You're like me.

We are both damaged and the world will never understand,

But at least we have eachother.

#aftg #all for the game #tfc #neil josten #andreil #andrew minyard #the foxhole court #nora sakavic #angst #nathaniel wesninski #writing #headcanon #hysterical laughter #criminal justice #college class #professor

[monicawoe]

supernatural fic masterlist

(updated 11/15/2020)

I’ve written over 100 spn fics (ranging from ficlets to 70k big-bangs). Most of them are Sam-centric, largely featuring powers!Sam. The whole collection can be found here on AO3

newest fics:

Behold the Beast, Behold the Lamb - Season 4 AU.  Sam tried to free Dean from Hell, but angels intervened and took Dean for their own purposes. Sam is determined to get Dean back and will do whatever it takes, embracing his abilities fully. The more demon blood Sam drinks, the more demons he kills, the more he changes inside and out until it’s impossible to hide his monstrous side. Ruby, Uriel and Castiel push Sam to fulfill his destiny and become his true self—the Beast of the Revelation. (gen, Sam/Ruby, 20k words; featuring art by @quickreaver​)

Hellbound - Sam is in Hell, and then he isn't. He's standing on a sidewalk with a stranger looking back at him—a stranger that has his face. My 2020 spn-summergen fic! Featuring soulless!Sam, disembodied soul-Sam and amnesiac Dean. (gen, 8k)

Sin Eater - Sam has a different plan to cure demon Dean, but Dean doesn't want to be cured. (Sam drinking blood from demon!Dean, written for @quickreaver​ for her artwork Bitumen Kiss)

Best Self - written for @alyndra9​​  for the prompt: King of Hell Sam meets Kale!Sam and they have many differences of opinion to work out. (aka the only one who knows what Sam really wants is Sam.) words by monicawoe banner by @quickreaver​​! (~4k words, Sam/Sam)

All You Have Is Your Fire - written for @quickreaver​ for the 2020 Supernatural Spring Fling  Dean has known fire all his life. Sometimes it sounds like his brother. (~2k words; gen)

Tear You Apart - written for @wetsammywinchester​ who wanted Soulless!Sam/Brady & Soulless!Sam taking on the mantle of King of Hell:  Sam doesn’t want his soul back. He resurrects Brady who helps him figure out a way to outsmart Death: by damaging his soul so it can’t be reintegrated. With Brady’s help, Sam reclaims his power, and takes his soul apart one piece at a time. (8k words; Soulless!Sam/Brady)

Prayers Answered - written for the boy king Sam discord server prompt: Sam has grown up in a very religious environment. He's devoted, he goes to church, he prays. He knows that God is with him, because he listens to his prayers. But as Sam grows older, he realizes it's not God that's been listening. And he realizes that he's not asking - he's been ordering, and his loyal servants would never deny their King. (2k words; gen)

On His Head a Crown - written for the 2019-2020 SWBB, art by @slytherkins​ Hunters drug Sam, force-feed him demon blood, and bring him to where they’ve captured Brady. Brady tells Sam he knows how to stop the Apocalypse, and Sam, despite his better judgment, hears him out: Sam himself is the horsemen Conquest—aka the Antichrist—and he alone can bring Lucifer’s apocalypse to a grinding halt. Sam resists, but when he discovers the good he can do with his new powers, he decides to use them to atone for all his past mistakes.   (21k, Sam/Brady, gen, AU of 5x03-5x04)

Many more under the cut

Lakeside Fishing - written for @denugis​ - After defeating Famine, after days of suffering through demon blood withdrawal in the panic room, Sam needs time to clear his head. Early in the morning, he heads to a small lake seeking solitude, but instead finds an unexpected ally. (4k words; Sam/Patrick; set after My Bloody Valentine; witch!Sam)

His Soul to Keep - art by @sketchydean​​ - written for the SPN Eldritch Bang horror event - Dean’s deal is coming due soon. When he finds out from Ruby that Hell will turn him into a demon, he refuses to accept it, even though he can already feel pieces of his soul starting to crumble away. Sam is his only anchor to the world, and Dean finds it harder and harder to leave his side.    After Broward County, after watching Dean die a thousand deaths, Sam decides he’s not going to let Dean go to Hell. He’ll do whatever it takes, even if that means allying himself with Ruby and using the darkness inside of him. Sam casts a soul-binding spell on Dean; they might not be able to break the deal, but they can change who Dean’s soul belongs to. (13k, Sam/Dean, hard-gen, AU of season 3))

Last Drop - art by @quickreaver​ -written for the Twisted Tropes event - Sam/Brady AU set while Sam’s at Stanford:  Sam is slowly adjusting to his new life at Stanford University. He’s left his life of hunting behind, and traded it for endless studying and tests, but he’s plagued by dreams of Dean and Dad in danger, dreams of blood and violence. Then he meets Tyson Brady, who’s always there with a smile and a cup of coffee to get Sam through all-nighters. Sam’s dreams start to fade, but just as he’s getting used to a nice normal life, he starts to develop abilities—powers he can’t control. Brady thinks they’re great, but Sam knows power never comes without a cost. (14k, Sam/Brady)

Make Angels of Us All - art by @amberdreams1960​  - Sam has a guardian angel. It’s been with him his whole life, trying to keep him safe. The angel gives Sam power he can’t control: power to move things with his mind, power over fire, and wings that nobody else can see—bony and jagged with scaly feathers. Dean says monsters aren't real, but Dad thinks they are. Sam's power scares him, and he’s not always sure what's real, but what he does know is people keep trying to kill the three of them, and he won't let that happen. (~20K, gen)

Burdens, Doublefold - cowritten with @quickreaver​, art by ileliberte What if Dean left Sam at Stanford after the fire, hoping it would keep his little brother safe and make things better? Somehow, 'better' never seems to be in the Winchester Family cards. Sam gets tangled up with his ex-roommate Brady, tracking psychics, but dealing with demons is never honest business. Dean carries on until his father is put in grave danger. He is left on his own to deal, stumbling into Harvelle's Roadhouse for help, where Dean gets just a little more than he bargained for. Eventually, the brothers’ paths twist and turn their way back to each other, but the results could mean the End of Days. (67k, gen, AU of seasons 1-2)

Before the One You Serve When Dean comes to get Sam at Stanford, he finds him living with Brady. And Dean doesn't trust Brady, even though he can't quite put his finger on why. Not at first. (5k, Sam/Brady)

He Who Fights Monsters - cowritten with nwspaprtaxis, art by @quickreaver​ AU of the summer between Seasons 3 and 4. Dean's dead, dragged down kicking and screaming to Hell. Sam's not dealing well. And Ruby’s got her work cut out for her. (52K, Sam/Ruby)

John Winchester is Dead They say those Winchester boys're crazy. Drive around in a big black beast and drink too much and laugh about mean things. They say their daddy's worse, but you never see him. He's just a voice on the other end of the phone or a darker shape in the back seat of their dark car. They say John Winchester died two years ago. (2k, gen, horror)

Breathing, Talking, Dead Man Walking   -  John Doe, male, approximately thirty-seven years old. Subject was found by EMTs in close proximity to the site of a sizable explosion in Lebanon, Kansas. (2k, gen, Sam & Dean)

Between the Devil and the Deep Blue Sea - featuring art by @quickreaver​ When Sam opened Lucifer’s Cage, the only thing he found inside was Lucifer’s grace – his grace. With the return of his grace, Sam remembered his past – his war against the Host, his Fall, and his plans to bring about the End. The thing is…he doesn’t want the Apocalypse anymore. He likes things the way they are, and tries everything to keep his identity a secret- especially from Dean. Of course, the four Horsemen, Hell and Heaven have other ideas. (13K, gen)

The Last Days in the Land of Nod - comic adaptation by @quickreaver​ The year is 2014. The Devil is wearing his finest, the Angel is human, and the Brother protects the survivors at Camp Chitaqua.

The Two Ravens - art by @quickreaver​ Your brother he is, and heir to my throne. He’ll feed on the damned and he'll turn them to bone. (4k; fairy-tale)

Counteroffer About two weeks after Sam gutted a hellhound, completing the first trial, he started acting weird. (5k, psychological horror, gore)

Pattern Recognition: A Hannibal/Supernatural fusion AU  -  Sam and Dean split after River Pass, and their confrontation with the Horseman, War. Since Will’s escape from the Baltimore Institute for the Criminally Insane, he and Sam have been in hiding. They have a cabin, in the middle of nowhere, that keeps them off the radar; they find comfort in each other. But they can’t stay off the chessboard forever, especially not when Lucifer, wearing Hannibal Lecter as a vessel, is tearing the world apart around them. (33k, Sam Winchester/Will Graham)

Impala's Run - cowritten with @quickreaver, art by adrenalineshots Sam and Dean Singer (aka Winchester) aren’t your average young Kansas farmers. Their home is very, very far from Kansas, in fact. Many light-years worth of ‘far’. The boys may look human, but certain talents set them apart: Dean speaks the language of machines, and Sam can heal through manipulating energy. Hidden on Earth by their father, their agricultural lifestyle gets rocked when warring alien races discover where they’ve landed, and Sam and Dean are forced to make the run of their lives. (23k, gen)

All Our Wrath and Cutting Beauty - art by @quickreaver - Sam killed Alistair, but not before Alistair reminded Dean of who and what he’d become in Hell. Dean knows Sam can take down Lilith, and he’ll make damn sure Sam gets strong enough to do just that. They’ll stop the Apocalypse – together, no matter how many bodies stack up, or how much blood is spilt.(11k, horror) 

Diary of a Madman -Lydia’s newest patient, Sam Winchester, suffered from hallucinations, delusions, and regular bouts of insomnia. He also thought he was Lucifer. (4k, gen, horror)

Some other bundled links, for your convenience

Demon-blood Sam

King of Hell Sam

Powers!Sam

Horror

Crossovers & Fusion ‘verses

Hannibal|SPN

SPN/Preacher

SPN/Hannibal/MCU

#sam winchester #demon blood sam #powers!sam #spn fic #king of hell sam #dean winchester #monicawoe's fics #spn fanart