#fear street mad thomas

[amazingori]

I wish there was more tommy slater fanfics like im deprived lmao. I'd write them but finals in college suck up 99% of my time 😭

Like look how cute he is ahhhhh

#tommy slater x reader #mad thomas x reader #tommyslater #fear street #fear street 1978

[pherelesytsia]

Lurking in the Shadows

Pairing: Thomas Shelby x female/pregnant/Reader

Summary: As Halloween draws near, Charlie's mother worries that even Thomas will fear the costume of his son.

Warning: fluff

Word Count: 1.5k

a/n:. Requests are open!!!

The costume, wicked and haunting, forcing to cross the street if gazes met, suited Charlie well. The eyes of a wolf, a hawk circling over fields and cities in search of prey, a lost bunny searching for the hole in the muddy ground pierced the darkness looming beyond the windows.

The grin on Y/N´s lips grew, did not fade away, and not even bloodcurdling news could wipe it away. Gently, her fingers glided over the costume. Nervously, Charlie bit down on his lower lip, crouched and gazed from his mother to the closed door, listening to the voices mingling freely, but he did not understand any of the words echoing throughout the mansion. Y/N kneeled in front of her son. Mumbling, her fingers adjusted the shoes, perfecting the costume.

            "Do you think the others will like my costume? I've seen Karl. He is a ghost. I don't fear ghosts.", "Charlie, you were a ghost last year. We need to get more creative and I have to admit that if I didn't know you, I would hide in fear for my safety. You have the scariest costume I have ever seen in my life." Y/N spoke, fixing his tousled hair, hearing the secret message, the fear lingering in his shaking voice.

The light flickered.

            "Are you going to put on a costume, too? You would be a beautiful princess.", "Thank you, Charlie, but I will stay at home. I will accompany you downstairs and then Arthur, Polly and if I am not mistaken, John will wander from house to house with you and the other children. And I will wait for your return and then you can tell me what creepy creatures you have seen lurking around the streets." Y/N continued.

Gazes met.

            "And what about father? Won't he come with us? He told me he would think about it." Charlie inquired.

The smile faded away. Y/N exhaled and looked apologetically at her son, whose costume she had perfected to the smallest detail. She caressed his cheek, removed the thread from his shoulder and smiled, wordlessly answering the question he had asked.

            "Father promised me," Charlie argued.

            "My sweet little boy, your father fears for my safety and he promised he would wait with me. You can tell us everything then, and we will listen." Y/N breathed and calmed the boy with a mere gesture.

            "I understand, mom. I hoped. Dad promised me he would come with us, with me." Charlie spoke, tried to stay strong, but his voice betrayed him.

Blaming the hormones, Y/N blinked away the tears and smoothed his hair.

            "Please don't be sad. Do not be mad at your father, he wants to protect me and fears I might feel unwell or end up sickly in bed, or faint if nobody is here. Imagine one day, in a few years, you get to accompany your sibling on this spooky day and protect them from ghosts and knights, but enough of that, we should go downstairs. The others are waiting." Y/N said. The smile on his lips dispelled the tears.

            "Next year?", "No, my little boy, but in three or four years." she laughed and squeezed his right hand.

Groaning, Y/N rose from the floor. Hands enveloped hers, helped her, came to her aid. Charlie smiled, clasped her hand graced by a golden ring, and guided her towards the door. His eyes kept sliding back to his mother, watching her every move. The fear disappeared, faded into oblivion and Charlie opened the door, bowed elegantly, a high-born soldier, and followed the endless corridor. The gramophone played a song. With every step they took towards the stairs, the voices grew louder. Peals of laughter mingled with deep voices.

Stairs creaked, and pairs of eyes fell on the couple. Grins grew wider. The voices grew softer. The suit, dark as midnight, fitted him well. His shoes were polished. The hair lay to one side. His face was cold, blank and expressionless, a statue, staring down at the men and women. Eyes, twinkling and gleaming, looked at the boy who had taken his father's place. A pitch-black waistcoat hid the white shirt. Out of the small pocket, Charlie retrieved a silver pocket watch, opened it with a push of a button, and shook his head. A sound escaped his lips.

The siblings had to stifle a laugh, remembering what Y/N had said, her words about finding the most terrifying costume with Charlie, that people would freeze in fear and even the strongest of men, boxers facing the enemy in the ring with risen fists would tremble, and the prophecy was true. But no fear was boiling in the stomach. Curious eyes settled on Thomas staring at his double walking with his wife towards the group.

Charlie's face was strangely stiff, overshadowed by greyness.

            "It's late. We're heading out. We don't have fucking time to waste. And no fucking fighting." spoke the faint yet firm voice.

Y/N hunched forward, trying to walk beside Charlie and not to laugh, amused by the sight of her baffled husband.

            "Was that good? And you didn't give me any cigarettes.", "Perfect, but you don't have to swear like your father and I certainly won't give you any cigarettes.", Y/N whispered, fighting tears.

            "Of course, brother. You had a drink, right? I'd better drive, kids ride with us after all. Your wife looks particularly beautiful these days. The pregnancy suits her well and I am convinced it will be a girl." Arthur spoke in a firm voice, trying to sound as stern as possible.

With his right hand, he gestured the children to follow him.

            "What should I say?" asked a weak voice.

            "Nothing. Your father is not a man of many words. Nod and go, as we discussed." Y/N replied.

She eased away from the young one, nudging him forward and the boy understood and strolled with larger strides towards his father.

            "Good evening, Mister Shelby," he spoke.

Thomas shook his head, stared down at the carbon copy. Nothing escaped his gaze, found a difference, the golden ring, the sign of eternal loyalty and love was missing.

            "Good evening, Mr Shelby. I have heard a lot about you and we should form an alliance. I have contacts that might be useful to you. And I must say your wife is a breath-taking woman.", "Of course, Mister Shelby, but I must go now, my colleagues, my brothers are waiting. I look forward to hearing from you." Charlie spoke sternly, cold as possible.

            "Goodbye, Mr Shelby. During your absence, I will keep your wife company." Thomas replied.

He said goodbye to his son, following the others out of the mansion. Shaking his head, Thomas looked after Charlie. His eyes sparkled, not understanding what had happened. The stiff wind did not howl through the corridors of the house. Footsteps echoed again and with slow steps Y/N walked towards her grinning husband, listening to raucous laughter piercing the calmness of the night. Hands settled on his body, brushed the weight off his shoulders with an affectionate gesture, and lowered her head onto his back. Bright lights illuminated the nightfall and the blueish automobile drove off and faded beyond hills and rising mist.

            "That was the surprise you couldn't tell me, the secret between you and Charlie?" Thomas inquired, turning away from the window.

Silence returned. In reassuring gestures, Y/N stroked the bulge, no fabric nor coat could hide and nodded.

            "Exactly. Charlie wanted an unusual costume. Every kid dresses up as a ghost or a knight. Girls are witches and princesses and, according to some people, there's nothing creepier, scarier than Thomas Shelby. Do you like it? I had to cut his hair today, too." Y/N chuckled.

Lowering his hands on her waist, Thomas turned his wife in his arms and lowered his head onto hers.

            "It's the worst, goosebump-inducing costume I've seen in my life and the sight of the man will haunt me in my worst dreams. I need a psychologist," he joked. "And soon I will see him again. He wants to meet me, talk about business. I am dreading the encounter." Thomas continued.

Y/N looked up. The light was touching his face. The eyes sparkled. Gently, his fingers slid down her lower back. He wanted to be closer to the love of his life, but the belly made it difficult. His lips were clamped shut. The corners had turned white. Grinning, he gazed upon his wife, couldn't hold the walls of protection up. Stone crumbled. Thomas laughed, chuckled in delight, couldn't comprehend it, laughed and grinned and Y/N was persuaded she had never heard these delicate sounds, this melody touching her heart, in her life.

#thomas shelby #thomas shelby x y/n #peaky blinder #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby fluff #tommy shelby x reader #peaky blinders x reader #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x pregnant reader #thomas shelby x reader smut #thomas shelby imagine #peaky blinders imagine #tommy shelby #tommy shelby fic #tommy shelby x you #x reader fluff #tommy shelby x y/n #tommy shelby imagine #peaky blinders fanfic #tommy shelby one shot #thomas shelby x you #peaky blinder headcanon

[zodiyack]

Closed Doors

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x (nonship)daughter!Reader, Shelby family x (nonship)Shelby!Reader, Best friend character x fem!reader lol

Warnings: slight angst, fear of homophobia?, fluff, mention of drinking

Words: 414

Request: Hi! I was wondering could you do a pesky blinders fic where the reader is Tommy’s daughter and is gay but too afraid to come out until he finds her making out with her best friend one day (much like your Tommy’s son fic but with a lady?)

Note: oh god i haven't been able to write for a while, and im posting this on mobile (also meaning it'll take a bit to put it on my master list) regardless i hope it's okay. I also forgot who all is on the taglist now, this is just the taglist from when i saved this as a draft. Hope you enjoy!

Taglist: @matth1w, @redspaceace-writes, @fandom-puff, @darling-i-read-it, @simonsbluee, @captivatedbycillianmurphy, @jenepleurepasbaby, @sebastianstanslefteyebrow, @stuckysslag, @psychkunox, @i-love-superhero, @marquelapage, @peakyxtommy, @stydia-4-ever, @babylooneytoonz, @livlaughquinn​, @bubsonnobx​

Masterlist | Peaky Blinders Masterlist

Tommy walked along the street, pointing out random boys and joking with his brothers. "Wonder what kind of lad Y/N will end up with..." Not that he'd accept just anyone in his daughter's life.

Arthur snorted, "any guy out here would have to go through me. John and you too, no doubt."

John and Thomas nodded with a hearty laugh. "They'd have to fight that friend of hers too, she never leaves her side."

The men continued to bicker and chortle on their walk to the house.

"Hello Mr. Shelby!" Sonia chimed. Sonia was always welcomed, Y/N's best friend. She never had to ask, simply walk through the front door. He greeted her back as she sped up the stairs to Y/N's room, closing the door behind her.

After a few hours, and after the rest of the company went out, Thomas decided he wanted to go to Garrison. As he was the only one home, aside from the two girls, he made his way up the stairs to notify them of his absence.

The courtesy of knocking escaped him as he pushed her door open, the payment for such action taking a gasp from his parted lips. Before him was the sight of his daughter and her best friend, lips upon each other's, quickly separating at the sound of the door.

"Dad-" Y/N's eyes welled with tears, crushing Tommy's heart, and seemingly Sonia's as she looked to her friend with concern.

"Mr. Shelby, I promise-"

"Don't." He looked down and leaned against the door frame. "Why do you feel the need to hide away? Why couldn't you tell me?"

"I'm sorry..." She sobbed quietly.

"Don't be. It's who you are, what is there to be sorry about?"

Sonia perked up, "you're not mad?"

Thomas let out a genuine chuckle. "Why would I be?"

"My parents...they weren't too fond of my attraction to Y/N. We feared that you'd feel the same." He felt empathy for the shaking girl, her gaze averted in shame.

"I take pity that your parents are ignorant. You cannot control who you love. In this case, it's my daughter. My only asks, are that you treat her well..."

The girls looked hopeful, staring at him anticipating his continuation. "And?"

"And that you keep the door open when you're in her room. I trust that you can respect these requests. Now if you'll excuse me, I'd like to go to the Garrison and have a drink."

-

Bonus:

"do you think he's drinking because of us?" Sonia asked fearfully.

Y/N chucked, "no, he just likes to drink."

#x reader #reader insert #zodiyack #imagine #thomas shelby #thomas shelby x daughter!reader #tommy shelby #tommy shelby x daughter!reader #daughter!reader #peaky blinders #shelby!reader #peaky blinders x reader #request

[sl-newsie]

American Woman (Thomas Shelby x American OC) Ch. 6: Accomplice

All confidence and security I’ve accumulated is depleted. The Shelbys have helped keep me safe from the unpredictable world outside, and as the cop pushes me through the ash-filled streets I’m reminded of just how vulnerable I really am. Yet I still keep my head held high and mask my fear with stern eyes. I’m led to what must be the police station and down the hall to a small waiting room with a single desk. The cop shuts the door, closing off what little light there is. 

“I demand to know what’s going on!” I shout at the door. “I will not be imprisoned without official charges! If there is no official complaint then I shall inform the authorities in America!”

“No need for that, Ms. Steenstra,” a familiar voice speaks from the shadows. Campbell steps forward smoking a pipe and I see he’s holding a file.

I tighten my jaw and refrain from yelling again. My state of mind is much more fierce compared to our last encounter. “Hello again, Inspector Campbell.”

He slides the file onto the desk and sits down. “Last time I saw you, you were trying to get home. Scared of Small Heath and all its glory.” He points a finger at me. “I told you to stay away from the Peaky Blinders. Now I’m told you’re working for them.”

Keep calm, Steenstra. Remember what Polly told you.

“I’m a tutor, nothing more,” I say firmly. “I know nothing about their real business so if that’s why you brought me here then you’re wasting your time.” I turn away and face the door.

“If you’re interested, we could set you up for an inside job,” Campbell offers.

Did I hear that right? “You mean… spy? On the Shelbys?” I ask.

“Yes. And if there is any odd behavior then you can report it to me.”

Thomas was right. This man is out to get the entire Shelby family. I can’t be an asset to his cause. Not only because of my feelings for the Shelbys, but also for the loyalty of my employment.

I turn around and stare the inspector straight in the eye. “Maybe it’s done differently in England, but in America we are loyal to our employers. The answer is no, Inspector.”

The man takes a puff on his pipe. “What if certain arrangements were made? You still wish to return to your country, yes?”

The thought of going home is a spark of hope in my chest. But I can’t cave into this.

“Correct.”

Campbell shrugs. “Well, if you decide to join our cause we could arrange for a plane ticket, as well as better lodgings here for you.”

Just as I thought. “If you’re trying to bribe me, it won’t work. I’m sorry Inspector, but I cannot be bought.”

I grab the door knob and find it’s unlocked, no doubt because they don’t see me as a threat. Yet. Just as I start walking back to the front door I hear Campbell call out:

“Be careful, miss. Never know when the wolf will step out of its sheep's clothing.”

But in this scenario, who’s the wolf? I have no desire to be connected to this intricate web of lies and deception. I am in good relations with both the law and the Shelbys, and want to keep it that way.

I make haste to get back to the Shelby house. All previous angry thoughts are long gone and I don’t care if Thomas is still mad at me. Once I close the door I take a deep breath and take in the familiar kitchen. Calm down, you kept quiet. Just stay here and ride out the storm until you can go home.

My invisible mask falters and my eyes start to tear up. In a quick panic I grab a damp cold cloth and head to the living room to sit on the small couch. God, how did I get caught into this? All because I was an idiot and got myself lost!

“Ah, you’re back.”

No. No. Of all the Shelbys to walk in, why does it have to be him?

“Hello, Thomas.” I keep my head lowered and hastily try to block away more tears. “I’d like to apologize again for earlier. My mind hasn’t been very clear these past few days.”

Fate must have a sick sense of humor because Thomas decides to sit next to me. His weight pushes the cushions down further and has me leaning slightly towards him.

“Nobody apologizes to me unless they’ve done something else against me,” Thomas speaks in a dangerously calm voice. “What did you do after you left?”

Fighting my screaming nerves I lift my head up to face his cold eyes. “I was headed to the chapel when one of Campbell’s officers temporarily apprehended me. I was brought to Campbell’s office, where he questioned me.”

Thomas’ eyes flash. “He what?” Thomas grabs my neck, drags me over and pins me against the wall to shout in my face. “Well? What did you tell him? What did you say?!”

I try to choke out a response. “I- I didn’t say anything, Thomas!”

“Why? We never bought you over!” He releases my throat and I gasp for air. “We don’t own you-”

“You don’t have to, Thomas!” I seethe. “I didn’t say anything because A, I honestly don’t know much about the guns. And B, it would be betraying you.”

Thomas doesn’t budge but his eyes soften a fraction. Why must every encounter with him end so violently and not as romantic? I- No. Don’t flatter yourself, Steenstra. There are far more important issues at the moment!

“Really?” Thomas’ voice is calmer, yet still suspicious.

I take a deep breath and put both hands on his chest. “You may not think you’ve bought me, but I still owe a debt to the Shelby family. You took me in. You gave me a job and a roof over my head. If that’s not buying me over, I don’t know what else there is.”

Slowly, Thomas’ hands snake up to grab mine. His breathing has calmed down. He must believe me.

“No one’s this nice, Ms. Steenstra,” he whispers. “You’re not like any other person I’ve met. If you really are this loyal it would be a shame to see you go home.”

I sigh in relief. “So I’m not fired?”

He chuckles. “You always fret about being fired.”

“It’s my first job,” I reply sheepishly. “I’d hate to lose it in such a short time. Plus I really don’t want being fired by the Shelby family to be on my short résumé.”

“You’re fired?!”

We both look over to where Finn is standing, having just entered from the hallway. He’s holding another one of my books, no doubt having finished it already.

“No, Finn. She’s not fired.” Thomas gives me a smirk. “I don’t think she’ll be leaving for quite a while.”

My face falls. “Are you saying you’re going to keep me here against my will, Mr. Shelby?”

He quirks a brow. “You said you owe a debt to us, yes? How’d you like to have your Birmingham experience lengthened?”

I frown. “Meaning…?”

“That you are to stick around until you’ve earned a ticket home and we feel you’ve worked off your debt,” Thomas replies coolly and leans in closer. “Deal?”

A week ago I would have declined on the spot, but the few days I’ve spent here have snatched my interest. Maybe a while longer in Birmingham wouldn’t be so bad?

I smile. “Deal. My only request is that I’m escorted around town in order to not be snagged by Campbell again.”

Thomas tips his hat. “Your wish shall be granted, Verena Nora Steenstra. Welcome to being an accomplice to the Peaky Blinders.”

Accomplice. The word brings a whole new meaning to my job. I’m no longer a simple tutor. I’m part of something much bigger now. It scares me a little, but it’s also rather exciting.

“Yes!” Finn celebrates. “Can we do another lesson now?”

Aw, Hell. I can’t say no to this! My family’s not perfect and neither am I. I was always going to do something drastic someday, and if this is it then I’d love nothing more!

Thomas walks off to the kitchen and leaves me with his brother. You are one peculiar individual, Thomas Shelby.

I smile. “Yes, Finn. Let’s get started!”

#peaky blinders #peaky blinder fanfic #peaky blinder imagine #peaky fucking blinders #peaky fookin blinders #thomas shelby x reader #thomas shelby #arthur shelby #john shelby #finn shelby #polly gray #grace burgess #cillian murphy

[asilentguardian]

Hey friends! Long time no see!!

Just wanted to pop on here to let you know that the fanzine I was apart of (@thebatmanfanbook) just announced that leftover sales will be available later this month!

This means that I can post the piece that I wrote for this zine! This was my first fanzine and I really loved the experience. The book and all of the merch items are truly beautiful and there are so many wonderful artists attached to this project. If you didn't get the chance to grab one the first time around, please consider checking out the left over sale!

My piece is written from Alfred's perspective, which was actually really challenging for me. I'm not used to first person. I'll probably post it on Ao3 later, but for now it's below the cut!

Thursday, November 7th

Bruce came back.

The city has flooded, but Bruce came back. Only for a moment. I could barely see him, crouched in the window of my hospital room. I couldn’t tell if he was injured, but at least he was alive. If I hadn’t been watching the window, I may have missed him.

The hospital has been in overdrive since the explosions rang out around the city.

I can no longer see the streets from the safety of my room. The news has mentioned the Batman a few times, so I know he’s still standing. I don’t doubt that he’s working himself to the bone to try and fix this in any way he can.

I know that Gotham needs him. That his presence is doing more good than he knows, but I can’t help but feel that I need him here more. I fear that he’ll collapse, that he’ll push past his limits and drown in that wretched sea.

He’s always looked more like his mother, but I suppose he’s more like his father than either of us realize. Thomas always loved Gotham more than Gotham loved him—he was committed to the city in the same way he was committed to his family. It seems that Bruce has inherited this. Perhaps he’s inherited that particular brand of Wayne stubbornness, too.

Once Thomas got an idea in his head, it was impossible to sway him. I saw it in Martha, too, and now I see it in Bruce. It scares me how much Bruce reminds me of Thomas. I worry he’ll make the same mistakes.

Thomas was a good man, but he was blinded by his belief in other people. I often wonder why he didn’t come to me before going to see Falcone in the first place. I knew he was worried, agitated by what they were digging up about Martha, but he didn’t say anything. He was never overly candid with me, and I’m afraid that’s another trait he’s passed to his son.

Death has always followed the Waynes, and I fear that it will follow Bruce into this madness. Bruce, who once spent his evenings rescuing bugs from the manor halls, even after being told that they would only find a way back inside. I can’t imagine him committing the kind of violence that lesser men have. But I never imagined Thomas to be one to inflict violence, and, indirectly or not, he was responsible for a man’s death. Perhaps he was even responsible for his own and Martha’s.

This path that Bruce has chosen is not one that will remain bloodless. The weight on his shoulders has already permanently changed him. How much more weight until he breaks under it? How long until I attend another funeral?

I am not a young man, but I have many years left to live. Martha once confided in me all that she had sacrificed to become Bruce’s mother, and that she would do it all twice over. If Bruce has chosen his path, then I must stop shielding myself behind my title. To be truthful, I stopped thinking of myself as Bruce’s butler many years ago. I do not wish to bury my son.

I fear for him. I’ve always worried for him, as parents are wont to do, but this helpless worry is a beast that is still unfamiliar to me. And yet, also as unfamiliar is the bright hope he’s unearthed in me.

I am proud of the effect Bruce has had on Gotham, however small it may be. I know that he can do more, if only he would get out of his own bloody way. Perhaps if he sees the good that Bruce Wayne could accomplish his weight would lessen.

I know he’s made some vows of his own, to his parents and to his city. If this is the path he’s chosen, then I vow to follow him and keep him on the right path. If not for his parents, then for me. If not for his parents, then for himself.

#my writing #alfred #the batman #batfam #aspeaks

[hournites]

25/26 with hournite 😌

Hournite + "I don't care that you're hanging up lights. Get off the roof!"

~.~

Beth wakes up on Christmas morning early, as she always does. For the last few years, she'd always be the first one up, dragging her exhausted parents to the kitchen to whip up the biggest breakfast menu imaginable. This year, it's different. She scrambles out of bed rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, greeted by the sweet smell of coffee and bacon.

She glances out the window when she peeks out her curtain. There's barely any snow. There usually isn't, but it didn't hurt to check. Most of the houses lined up across the street have their Santa and reindeer inflatables swaying in the wind and their twinkling lights going. They don't have any. Her dad was meaning to go out and buy some more this year, but everything with Rick temporarily moving in scattered the priority list order for needed household items. A bright smile breaks out on her face as she quickly gets dressed. That's right. Rick is here with them this Christmas--Never in her wildest freshman year dreams would she have imagined spending her holiday season sidled up on her couch with hot chocolate and Rick.

"Merry Christmas!" Beth almost bounces on the spot with excitement when she gets downstairs. Under the Christmas tree is littered with gifts for everyone, and their dining table is set with poinsettia plants, Christmas tree plates and Mr and Mrs Claus salt and pepper shakers.

Her parents poke their heads out from the kitchen in matching pyjamas and spatulas. "Merry Christmas, baby!"

Her dad waves his spatula. "I'm making my famous waffles!"

"Yummy!" She hugs them quickly, so thankful once again that this is how she's spending her holidays. With them. Together. She pulls away and frowns, just slightly. Someone is missing.

"Where's Rick?"

Her parents look at each other.

"He's outside." Mom pours out the coffee in a fancy carafe for the table. "Something about a surprise?"

"What? For me?" Beth abandons the slice of bacon she started nibbling on, running for her coat and boots.

"Don't forget your scarf!" Dad calls, chuckling at her.

Outside is bitterly cold and not nearly as snowglobe-y it had looked like from the toasty inside of her bedroom window. She cups a hand over her eyes, shielding them from the sun's deceiving glare. Rick's car is still in the driveway. And it's not like much is open on Christmas Day. She twirls around on her front porch, wondering where he could've gone. And what did her parents mean by a surprise?

"Rick?"

"Hey. Up here."

Beth jumps down the front steps, backing away to crane her neck up at her house. Her jaw drops at the sight before her. A huge ladder is propped up against the side of her house and Rick is waving down at her from the slanted roof in his coat. He's got a cardboard box beside him, spilling out a tangled mess of blinking lights.

She claps her mittens over her mouth. "Rick! What the heck are you doing?!?"

He laughs at her shock. "You said you wanted lights!"

She can't believe it. Rick's climbing up a two-storey house to give Beth her perfect Thomas Kinkade house for Christmas.

She can't tell if she's deliriously happy or furiously mad. Probably both. "I did!" she admits.

"Thank you but I meant like, for our bushes or the windows! This is a little extreme!" Heights are still one of her greatest phobias and the snow dusting the roof is slippery. There might be ice. Fear plunges to her gut. Rick could fall. "It's dangerous up there!"

"I'm good." He waves her off, continuing to detangle the wires. "It's almost done." He stretches across, balancing precariously to wrap the rest of them along the other downwards arch of their victorian architecture. Beth can't deny that they're very beautiful, a crisp and bright light that outshines even her flashy neighbours. It's just...Rick. And it's a bit silly, there's been way scarier situations they've both been in together. True life and death moments. But somehow Beth standing in her earmuffs, steadying Rick's ladder has her heart up in her throat. "I don't care that you're hanging up lights, get off the roof!"

Rick double-takes at her sharp tone. He stops, piling the rest of the lights in the box and carefully climbs his way back down. Beth sighs with relief, crushing him in her hug the second his cold hands are removed from the metal ladder.

"I didn't mean to worry you," Rick huffs out, voice laced with concern.

Beth squeezes him tight and doesn't let go. "Beth?"

She takes a deep breath and tilts her chin up, gazing up at him. "Hi."

His brows furrow together, but he's wearing a smile. "Hi."

"I'm good now. Sorry."

"I forgot you got scared of that. I'm right here. Merry Christmas, Beth." Rick shakes his head at her. "So I take that you don't like your present?"

"What!" She pushes his chest back to look up at the lights. "No, I love it! The lights are beautiful. It's stunning! The house looks amazing!" Now that she has the time to take it all in, she notices the Christmas wreath and more lights in matching golden cylinder pots by the front door. "You really decorated it all this morning for me?"

Rick smiles at her. "You like pretty things."

Beth lets out a long sigh. "I love pretty things." She shivers in the cold and adjusts her scarf. "You know what else I like?"

"What?"

"You." Beth darts up and presses a kiss on Rick's cheek before she loses her nerve. "Merry Christmas, Rick."

Rick’s cheeks grow redder than they ever were from the cold. The light dancing across his face is better than anything he could ever string across her roof.

Beth giggles and reaches for his hand. She shakes his grasp in hers. "Where are your gloves, mister?"

“Um.” He glances up at the roof. Beth tugs him along before he gets any ideas of going back up there. “We can ask Courtney to grab them with her staff.”

They return inside to peel off their outerwear and meet her mom and dad at the breakfast table.

“So?” Dad couldn’t mask his excitement if he tried. “It’s spectacular, isn’t it?” He lifts his plate full of waffles. “That’s a real gift, I always say. An act of service—Straight from the heart.”

“I certainly did almost have a heart attack,” Beth jokes.

Rick chuckles, slipping his arms around her from behind. He hooks his chin over Beth’s shoulder, eyeing the array of food. “Please tell me you all eat before opening the rest of the presents.” It still doesn’t cease to amaze her how comfortably affectionate Rick can be. She told him she liked him—He obviously knows, and he doesn’t even need to say it back for Beth to know he feels the same. She can sense it in Rick’s reluctance to let go. His confidence in touching her in front of her parents. The happy grin on his face he can’t seem to wipe off.

“Don’t worry.” Beth reassures him. “Us Chapels prioritize good food.”

Mom shakes her hand. “Ain’t that the truth.”

Beth is a little sad as the heat of Rick’s body pulls away from her when he finds his chair, but she quickly finds joy again when their eyes meet across the table. Somehow, some way, Rick fits in like he’s always been a part of the Chapel holidays. Maybe, Beth gives in to the quiet part of her that wonders, maybe he always will.

#hn fics #tkv fic #hn fic #stargirl #hournite #flirtatious #fluff #holiday fic #rick x beth

[one-album-wonders]

UK Rock Superstars Tournament Participants!!!!

We have a remarkable 244 entries into the UK Rock Superstars Tournament. They will be sorted into 61 groups of 4 for the tournament to begin on Monday, May 22nd. Based on the number of nominations and other popularity factors I've sorted the entries into four pots. I will create the groups by randomly selecting one rock act from each pot for each group.

The names of all the participants are below the cut. If you find that there's a GRIEVOUS omission of a great UK rock band or solo artist, please notify me by the end of the day Friday. After that, the participants list will be final.

POT 1

Arctic Monkeys Bauhaus Black Sabbath Blur Cat Stevens (Yusuf Islam) David Bowie Def Leppard Depeche Mode Donovan Duran Duran Dusty Springfield Electric Light Orchestra Elton John Elvis Costello & The Attractions Eurythmics Fleetwood Mac Franz Ferdinand Genesis George Harrison George Michael Gorillaz Jeff Beck John Lennon Joy Division Judas Priest Kate Bush King Crimson Led Zeppelin Motörhead Muse New Order Oasis Paul McCartney Peter Gabriel Pink Floyd Placebo Pulp Queen Radiohead Rolling Stones Roxy Music Sex Pistols T. Rex Tears for Fears The Animals The Beatles The Bee Gees The Clash The Cure The Dave Clark Five The Hollies The Kinks The Moody Blues The Police The Pretenders The Small Faces / Faces The Smiths The Who The Yardbirds The Zombies Yes

POT 2

Amy Winehouse Bananarama Billy Bragg Billy Idol Black Midi Buzzcocks CHVRCHES Coldplay Cradle of Filth Cream Culture Club Dire Straits Echo & the Bunnymen Elvis Costello Emerson, Lake, & Palmer Erasure Gary Numan Graham Parker Herman's Hermits Iron Maiden Joe Cocker Joe Jackson Madness Manfred Mann Manic Street Preachers Marc Bolan Mott the Hoople Orchestral Manoevres in the Dark Ozzy Osbourne Pet Shop Boys Peter Frampton Phil Collins Primal Scream Ringo Starr Robert Plant Rod Stewart Siouxsie and the Banshees Sisters Of Mercy Slade Squeeze Supergrass The Beat The Damned The Human League The Jam The Jesus and Mary Chain The Pogues The Psychedelic Furs The Specials The Stone Roses The Stranglers The Sweet The Tornados Traffic Ultravox Van Morrison Wham! Wings X-Ray Spex XTC Yazoo

POT 3

ABC Adam and the Ants Alestorm Alt-J Annie Lennox Art of Noise Autechre Belle and Sebastian Big Audio Dynamite Big Country Black Country, New Road Blood Red Shoes Bullet for My Valentine Camera Obscura Carcass Cardiacs Cliff Richard Cornershop Davy Jones Deep Purple Elastica Fairport Convention Fine Young Cannibals Florence + The Machine Gang of Four Gerry & The Pacemakers Gerry Rafferty Happy Mondays Howard Jones Inspiral Carpets Jade Bird John Mayall & the Bluesbreakers Kevin Ayers Little Simz Los Campesinos! Mojave 3 My Bloody Valentine Napalm Death Nothing But Thieves Petula Clark Royal Blood Self Esteem Sleep Token Snow Patrol Soft Machine Steeleye Span Suede The Fall The Holloways The Kooks The Pigeon Detectives The Ting Tings The Undertones The Wombats The xx This Heat Throbbing Gristle Tom Jones Two Door Cinema Club Wet Leg Whitesnake

POT 4

10 cc Alison Moyet Bloc Party Cabaret Voltaire Crawlers Creeper Dexys Midnight Runners Eddy Grant Fad Gadget Fontaines D.C. Free Glass Animals Jarvis Cocker Jessie Ware Jethro Tull Kaiser Chiefs Killing Joke Laura Marling Lonnie Donegan Manfred Mann's Earth Band Modern English Mogwai Mungo Jerry Nazareth Nick Lowe Paul Young Peter & Gordon Procul Harum Public Image Ltd Rainbow Richard Thompson Roger Waters Sham 69 Simple Minds Soft Cell Spandau Ballet Spiritualized Status Quo Stereolab Steve Winwood Stiff Little Fingers Super Furry Animals Syd Barrett Talk Talk The Boo Radleys The Chameleons The Cocteau Twins The Cult The KLF The Mission The Searchers The Selecter The Slits The Verve Thomas Dolby UB40 Underworld Uriah Heep Van der Graaf Generator Yard Act Young Fathers

[jerseyluck]

Batman (2016) Vol.3 Annual #1 Readthrough

Tis be the season, and in the spirit of that we are going to look into some holiday comics. And we are going to start with Batman Annual #1, a Christmas anthology.

The book opens with the most famous tale of the book: Tom King and David Finch’s Eisner winning Good Boy.

The story opens with an example of the damage that the Joker does on a daily basis. In this case, Joker left a bunch of dogs behind to go feral, and only one has survived: a hound in an Ace mask.

We then cut to best butler, Alfred Pennyworth, going to the dog pound to adopt the surviving dog. The book then cuts to an amusing scene where Bruce is ambushed by the aggressive dog and is mildly annoyed. Bruce doesn’t seem to think that the dog can recover from the trauma that Joker put him under.

But Alfred isn’t one to give up! Before the Christmas season, the butler spends time trying to train the dog. And slowly but surely the dog starts to behave and is willing to trust.

In a heartwarming moment, Ace comes towards Batman after a rough night out. By Christmas, it has gotten to the point where Bruce is giving the dog a bat mask. And in a hilarious moment, Bruce asks Alfred what his Christmas present is not realizing Ace is the present.

This is easily one of the best stories Tom King ever wrote and is the best story in the annual. David Finch does some decent art that makes the story work. However, there is some better art in this annual.

And one of the stories with better art is Silent Night by Scott Snyder and Ray Fawkes with art by Delcan Shalvey.

The story opens with an exploration of how Batman is able to respond to crimes so fast. Bats has tapped into Gotham’s 911 call centers, with a computer listening to key words. If there are enough context clues, Batman gets an alert to go to the call.

We cut to Gotham’s Time Square analogue where a group of people dressed in trench coats arrive. This being Gotham, citizens call it in, and Batman shows up thinking that this might be a terrorist attack.

But as a pleasant surprise, the group happens to be street performers to some fancy acrobatics. In a true Christmas miracle, Bruce actually gets a moment of peace because there isn’t any trouble in Gotham that requires Batman.

Next is The (Not So) Silent Night of Harley Quinn by Batman legends Paul Dini and Neal Adams. And it is just a riff on the classic tale where Batman carols with the police and no crime happens because of his influence on Gotham.

In this version, Batman captures Harley after she tries to sneak in Gordan’s holiday party. Bats drives Harley out of Gotham while Harley does some singing in the Batmobile. As this is happening, we get to see hijinks where things almost happen but through acts of little madness, everything turns out all right. My personal least favorite story from the bunch.

Next is Stag by Steve Orlando and Riley Rossmo. And this story is actually a lead into the pair’s then upcoming Batman/Spirit mini. Before we go any farther this has my artwork in the annual.

The story opens with Bruce, Commissioner Gordon, and new character Barry O’Neil opening a winter wonderland for Gotham. But then we get a Steve Orlando classic of using an obscure character, Mister Blizzard shows up to cause trouble because … he wants a new ice age?

Anyway, we get a good moment of Bruce leaving to get into his Batman gear. And very quickly, Batman takes Mister Blizzard. We then get a discussion from O’Neil, regretting that his attempt to bring joy to Gotham’s children went that badly.

The story ends with Bruce lamenting to Duke Thomas that O’Neil has been a charitable icon to Gotham since he was child. As Bruce wonders what Gotham would be without O’Neil, the old man is assassinated by a mysterious figure.

The annual ends with The Insecurity Diversion by Scott Bryan Williams and art by Bilquis Evely.

This story opens with Gotham under attack chemical anxiety-causing gas (ala Scarecrow’s fear toxin). We also got a new villainess, Haunter, at Arkham’s holiday party. And because this is a short story, both factors lead to Haunter escaping the asylum.

The book explains that Haunter has the power to kill people from their DNA, and she is pals with the Scarecrow. The fear-loving crook did Haunter a solid and let her escape.

However, Batman comes to stop the pair of villains. He exposes the villains to a nerve-toxin to capture the pair. And that is the end of this forgettable story.

Overall, this annual is a fun read. While there are some stories that are better than others, there isn’t a bad one in the bunch. Art throughout the book was spectacular.

7.5/10

#dc comics #batman #commissioner gordon #alfred pennyworth #harley quinn #scarecrow #tom king #david finch #ace the bathound #christmas #christmas comic #anthology #read through

[itsfuntobeavampiree]

Hello! First Post on this profile even tho I've been on the app for a little while now. I wanted to get familiar with how everything works and how other people work round the app before i Ieave you with my poor grammar, lazy, confusing write ups. Anyways let's get to know me first.

My names Billie and I identify as whatever the fuck I want ( having an identity crisis) please use she/her or he/him. My age is prohibited at the momento. I'm bri'ish, I like to write but can't get myself to finish a story (never ever look at my wattpad)

What I will do:fluff/angst/smut/polyamory

Reader: male!reader/fem!reader/gn!reader/nb!reader/child!reader

Fandoms I will write for:

Fear street(94,78,66)

Deena

Sam

Kate

Simon

Nick

Ziggy

Cindy

Tommy

Alice

Arnie

Sarah

Mad thomas

Isaac

Hannah

Lizzie

Slashers

Michael myers (Rob zombies aswell)

Ghostface( stu macher, Billy loomis)

Billy lenz

Brahms heelshire

Jason voorhees

Freddy krueger

Candyman

Vincent sinclair

Bo sinclair

Lester sinclair

Hannibal (anthony)

(Those are the few I recognise bc I watch alot of horror but not alot of known slashers)

The lost boys

David

Dwayne

Paul

Marko

Michael

Star

Laddie(platoniccccc)

Sam(platonic?)

Max

Lucy

Beatles

John

Paul

George

Ringo

Eddsworld

Edd

Tom

Matt

Tord

Eduado

Mark

Jon

Paul

Patryck

Bill and ted

Bill

Ted

(Lol)

Inbetweeners

Simon

Neil

Will

Jay

Heads up! I am one of those writers who will disappear out of nowhere and then just come back to write a 100 word little smut oneshot LMAO.

[h0nkch0c0late]

FEAR STREET MASTERLIST

Tommy Slater:

1. Secret

2. Blurry Photograph

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

3. The Woods

Kate Shmidt:

1. Rooftop

Simon Kalivoda:

1. Alone

2. Thunderstorms

3. Cold

4. Under The Grocery Store Lights

5. Lost Motivation

6. Emotionless

Mad Thomas:

1. The Pastors Daughter

Nick Goode:

>>nothing yet<<

[emma-cantmakeuphermind]

Who and What I Write For!!!

If a Fandom/Character is Bolded, that means requests for them are Open. If it is not bolded, they are closed. Thank you!

Movies

Harry Potter

Harry Potter

Ron Weasley

Hermione Granger

George Weasley

Fred Weasley

Cedric Diggory

Seamus Finnigan

Draco Malfoy

Oliver Wood

Remus Lupin (Marauders Era)

James Potter (Marauders Era)

Sirius Black (Marauders Era)

Regulus Black (Marauders Era)

Lily Evans (Marauders Era)

Marlene McKinnon (Marauders Era)

Mary MacDonald (Marauders Era)

Fear Street

Simon Kalivoda

Kate Schmidt

Tommy Slater

Nightwing Killer

Ziggy Berman

Nick Goode

Solomon Goode

Mad Thomas

IT

Richie Tozier (young and old)

Bill Denbrough (young and old)

Stanley Uris (young and old)

Ben Hanscom (young and old)

Eddie Kaspbrak (young)

Beverly Marsh (young)

Mike Hanlon (young)

Marvel

Peter Parker (MCU)

Peter Parker (TASM)

^ frat!peter… iykyk

Steve Rogers

Bucky Barnes

Wanda Maximoff

Natasha Romanoff

Sam Wilson

Bruce Banner

Tony Stark

Scott Lang

Scream

Sidney Prescott

Billy Loomis

Stu Macher

Randy Meeks

Dewey Riley

Tatum Riley

Derek Feldman

Mickey Altieri

Roman Bridger

Kirby Reed

Charlie Walker

Tara Carpenter

Wes Hicks

Chad Martin-Meeks

Mindy Martin-Meeks

Richie Kirsch

Amber Freeman

Anika Kayoko

Ethan Landry

Back to the Future

Marty McFly

George Mcfly

The Breakfast Club

Andrew Clark

Brian Johnson

John Bender

Claire Standish

Allison Reynolds

Stand By Me

Teddy Duchamp

Chris Chambers

Dead Poets Society

Neil Perry

Charlie Dalton

Todd Anderson

Knox Overstreet

Steven Meeks

Gerard Pitts

Richard Cameron

Chris Noel

Bill and Ted’s Excellent Adventure

Bill Preston Esquire

Ted Logan

Billy The Kid

The Hunger Games

Peeta Mellark

Finnick Odair

Johanna Mason

Cato

Marvel

TV Shows

The Walking Dead

Rick Grimes

Daryl Dixon

Carl Grimes

Glenn Rhee

Alden

Negan Smith

Rosita Espinosa

Tara Chambler

Stranger Things

Steve Harrington

Eddie Munson

Mike Wheeler

Dustin Henderson

Lucas Sinclair

Max Mayfield

Robin Buckley

Jonathan Byers

Billy Hargrove

Ginny and Georgia

Marcus Baker

Abby Littman

Hunter Chen

Shameless

Lip Gallagher

Carl Gallagher

Kevin

V

Svetlana

Jimmy

Video Games

Bully

Jimmy Hopkins

Gary Smith

Petey Kowalski

The Last of Us

Joel Miller

Ellie Williams

Abby Anderson

Jesse

Dina

Red Dead Redemption

Arthur Morgan

John Marston

Durch van der Linde (1899)

Jack Marston (1911 and 1914)

Sean Macguire

Karen Jones

Charles Smith

Javier Escuella

Detroit: Become Human

Connor

Markus

Simon/Daniel/PL600

Rupert/WB200

Life Is Strange

Chloe Price (specifically BTS)

Nathan Prescott

Warren Graham

Sean Diaz

Daniel Diaz (older obvi)

Steph Gingrich

Ryan Lucan

Hogwarts Legacy

Sebastian Sallow

Ominis Gaunt

Gareth Weasley

Leander Prewett

TellTale’s The Walking Dead

Kenny

Clementine

Luke

Javier

Gabe

Mitch

Louis

Marlon

James

Other

Miscellaneous 80s Characters

Edgar Frog

Allen Frog

Sam Emerson

Johnny Cade

Ponyboy Curtis

Sodapop Curtis

Dally Winston

Ferris Bueller

Egon Spengler

Peter Venkman

Alex P. Keaton

Miscellaneous Non-80s Characters

Harley Quinn

Peter Kavinsky

Donnie Darko

Detective David Loki

Homer Hickam

Beck Oliver

Jade West

Rodrick Heffley

#request #imagines #x reader #life is strange #80s movies #stranger things #it #the walking dead #twdg #red dead redemption #detroit become human #the breakfast club #ferris bueller #the last of us #ginny and georgia #shameless #harry potter #hogwarts legacy #ghostbusters #bully #the hunger games #bill and ted #back to the future #dead poets society #stand by me #scream #marvel #fear street #rodrick heffley #bucky barnes x reader

[perfumedhotels]

Heaven’s gates won’t open up for me (With these broken wings I’m fallin’)

𓆩♡𓆪 Fandom: The Prophecy film Series

𓆩♡𓆪 Format: One-shot

𓆩♡𓆪 Characters: Katherine Henley, Gabriel 

𓆩♡𓆪 Warning: None (This is not a ship story)

𓆩♡𓆪 Summary: Fourteen years spent as a human, wandering the streets; Gabriel would’ve never thought that one day, he would run into Katherine again. And this time, as equals and under different circumstances. (Set sometimes before the events of The Prophecy 3: The Ascent) 

v𓆩♡𓆪☆♡🕸♰𓆩♡𓆪☆♡🕸♰𓆩♡𓆪☆♡🕸♰𓆩♡𓆪☆♡🕸♰𓆩♡𓆪☆♡🕸♰𓆩♡𓆪☆♡🕸

Katherine was not one to forget faces. Especially one as terrifying and unique as his. She had tried. For fourteen years she tried to forget that pale face and those green eyes that haunted her in her sleep and waking moments. Gabriel had died. She saw Lucifer tear out his heart with her own eyes. So what was he doing in this diner? Why was he staring at her?

Her eyes were clouded with tears of the memories that stabbed at her psyche. Of Mary… Of his cold hands wrapped around her head with the intend of crushing her skull… Pure pain… And the memory of hearing about Thomas going mad and probably being killed by him. She could not do this. Not anymore. She gave all she had to save those she loved; and even then it wasn’t enough. She had nothing left to give. Not even her sanity; just her life. Maybe that is what he was after then.

Despite her fear and anxiety, something told her that he was harmless; as stupid as it sounds. He looked old and tired just like everyone in the afternoon. Was that even possible for angels? To age? He had, obviously so. One could say from his long, graying hair. Something was different.

Taking a deep breath, Katherine willed herself to move forward, slowly and carefully as if she was dealing with a live grenade.

Time never meant anything to Gabriel when he was an angel. It did not need to. He had all the time in the world and he had even until the earth explode. It never had to mean anything. But it was one of the first things he became aware of once he became human. Time flew by whether he liked it or not and he never seemed to have enough of it in a day. The sun went down and came up and it all had a meaning now. Late, early, on time. It was infuriating yet fascinating at the same time. It was a routine. It held him together. Yet right now, as he stood here, staring at the one and only Katherine Henley as the coffee mug in his hand burned his skin, time had seemed to have stopped and so had everything else.

He hadn’t thought about her. Not that she wasn’t memorable. Anyone who stood up to him back them was someone to remember. And her brevity in saving Mary was enough to forever etch her fierce expression as she shielded the girl from him in his mind.

And now here she was, standing before him and looking up at him as a rabbit stared at a cobra. Had it been fourteen years ago, her terrified expression would have filled him with pride and delight. But now? All he felt was sadness and shame. Even as a homeless man he still scared her.

“Hello Katherine. It’s been a while.” Gabriel said cautiously, as if a single rash movement or voice louder than a whisper would send her running for the hills. Rightfully so.

She swallowed audibly, taking a step back instinctively, despite him staying still as a statue. “What do you want with me now, Gabriel?” She asked, putting on as brave of a voice as she could muster and when he gave her a confused look, she frowned.

“I have nothing else left to give you. Leave me alone.” She said and he only smiled ruefully. “Believe me, this is all coincidence. I only wanted a cup of coffee.”

Katherine rolled her eyes, pushing past him and going to an unoccupied table. He followed her, keeping his distance. Over the years he’d spent as a human, he had learned that humans did not like others getting too close to them; and neither did he. So he stood by the table as she sat down, placing her cup down. “Believe you? Why? I know you’re up to no good. Who are you destroying now?” She scoffed, shaking her head.

She didn’t have a reason to believe him or even listen to him. That viper lied through his teeth and did not care. He was dangerous. A ticking timebomb.

“I am not.” Gabriel retorted. “I’m not out here to get you. I don’t want to cause trouble.”

“Then who is? What do you want?”

He took a deep breath. Pausing a few seconds before he spoke. He couldn’t afford to blow up in her face. Not now. “Katherine. I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want anything to do with you. I promise that I have changed. I just want a cup of coffee just like you.”

“It’s tea.” She clarified. “And you aren’t like everyone else. You are an angel, Gabriel. And a murderous one at that.”

She couldn’t quite decipher the expression his face took at her statement. It looked sad, in a ‘I know something you don’t’ way. Fair. There was a lot of things an angel knew that she did not. None of which she cared to find out.

“See, that’s where you’re wrong,” He smiled sadly. “I am not an angel anymore, Katherine. I am just a man. A human being just like you.”

Katherine was confused. Didn’t know what he meant or what kind of game he was playing. Didn’t care. She was scared. She wanted him to leave. Deep down she was hoping that this was yet another nightmare. That she would wake up in her bed or at her desk screaming; just as she always did when the hell spawn appeared in her dreams.

Though it was unlikely. The diner was never a setting in her nightmares. It was usually her old school, a mortuary or The Old Woman’s Bute on the reservation. And the Gabriel of her dreams looked as she remembered him from years ago. With pale skin and hair black as feathers of crows. And he was usually crushing her skull and she was crying; and it was always painful. This Gabriel was different. Not just physically. But he was talking to her. Almost begging her to listen to him. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat, ready to jump.

Gabriel, sensing her discomfort, immediately stepped back. “I’m sorry. Am I…” He paused, seemingly looking for the right thing to say. “… Freaking you out..?”

She almost fell over from shock and had to hold the table for stability. Had he been injured? Was it even possible for him to suffer head trauma? This was the same man who wanted to get rid of the human race, hated them enough to call them monkeys. And now he was here apologizing to her for… Making her uncomfortable? Something was not adding up.

“Please… Just let me explain… At any point in this… conversation… if you felt like I am wasting your time, you could get up and leave. No questions asked.” He said to her cautiously, placing a hand on the table.

He watched as she sighed and rubbed her temples with irritation before opening her eyes, looking into his, evaluating how genuine he was. “Do you want to sit down then?” She huffed out.

Gabriel nodded.

“Knock yourself out.”

“I…” Gabriel frowned slightly, not understanding what she meant. Throughout his fourteen years on this earth, he had learned a lot of things but one thing he had trouble keeping up with was their expressions.

“You can sit, Gabriel. Let’s get this over with.” Katherine clarified and for the first time during their encounter she smiled. “Start from the top.” She said after grabbing the pepper spray she carried and placing it on the table, making sure he knew she was armed if he decided to try anything funny.

Timidly, Gabriel took the seat in front of her immediately reaching for the sugar packets on the table which elicit a sort of knee-jerk reaction from Katherine; and she grabbed the pepper spray as if it was a rosary meant to protect her from the devil. She was sure he would’ve laughed at her pathetic attempt. That is if he was not too busy dumping packet after packet of sugar into his coffee.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Katherine. I can’t, even if I wanted to.” He said in between pouring sugar into his drink. Then he looked up and flashed an eerie grin at her. “I fell.”

Her eyes blew wide and she almost spat out her tea. “Wait. You mean that? Why?”

Finally, seeming satisfied with the obscene amount of sugar in his coffee, Gabriel stopped, grinned again and started stirring it. “I thought you might know better than anyone.” He started. “I was selfish, blind, arrogant…” He paused, seemingly looking for the right word; he took a deep breath. “I was insecure, and I was jealous… I did horrible things. I thought that-”

“You killed Thomas.” Katherine cut him off with a broken voice and he looked up to see that tears had welled in her eyes. That shut him up quick. She hated him. Hated how he was trying to stir up a sob story. For what? Was she supposed to feel sorry for him for fucking himself over? Forgive him for disturbing her for the rest of her life? Traumatizing a little girl? Killing her friend? Her life had not been the same since then and it never will be. No matter what he told her.

“I tried to kill a mother and her unborn child… A child of a human woman and my ki-” He paused. “A human woman and an angel whose birth was prophesied… And now I’m here.”

Funny. How if it was fourteen years ago he would be boasting about his misdeeds. She bet it would’ve been just an ordinary day in his life. Speaking of which, what would’ve happened had he succeeded? Simple. He would’ve won. But it didn’t seem to matter now. He seemed remorseful… Ashamed. Was that possible? For this raging narcissist to feel anything, Katherine wondered.

After a while of silence where the only noise was that of the coffee machine brewing batch after batch of coffee, Katherine spoke up again.  “You don’t like coffee, do you?” She asked softly, motioning to the cup. “Because that is a lot of sugar for one cup.” She teased which made him laugh.

“I should probably cut back on the sugar before it kills me.” He remarked and she smiled, giving a nod of agreement. “Gabriel?” She called softly, clearly intending to start another touchy subject. “Why are you telling me all of this..?”

Why… He didn’t really know. He wanted her to know that he was sorry. But sorry was not going to fix anything. It won’t erase years of evil. It won’t bring back Dagget. He wanted to apologize but that would be pathetic. There were some things that no matter how much or how you apologized could never be forgotten. Some sins just could not be forgiven. But it wasn’t forgiveness he wanted. He didn’t deserve that. He just wanted acceptance.

“I wanted to apologize for all I’ve done.” He started. “I don’t want forgiveness. I’m not looking for pity. I just want you to know that I am sorry. That I am not a threat. I am just like you.”

You are not just like me. Katherine thought. “And you seem oddly cool with it.”

“I wasn’t ten years ago.” Gabriel shrugged. “I got over it. It wasn’t easy. But there’s nothing else I can do.”

He looked down into his coffee mug, watching the sugar crystals dissolve in the liquid unlike his shame which only kept bubbling up. Despite this, it was comforting to talk about it. It won’t fix anything but he had at least gotten it off his chest with a person who did not think he was delusional.

Amongst the silence and the occasional ring of the diner’s door and the sound of the coffee maker, Gabriel heard shuffling noises and looked up to see Katherine holding a packet of cigarettes to him, having already lit herself one.

“Didn’t know if you smoked.” She said flatly.

“That is basically a death stick.” He said, pointing a long finger at the lit cigarette between her lips.

“And the dozen sugar packets you dumped in your coffee are a great health choice?” She flashed him a toothy smile. “I only smoke on special occasions, don’t worry.”

Gabriel didn’t quite know what occasion she was talking about and she didn’t seem like she would answer so he shrugged it off instead and finished his coffee.

“Does me forgiving you get you back to heaven?” Katherine asked after a while, leaning back in her chair and exhaling the smoke with her head tilted back.

He chuckled, rolling his eyes a little. “You think I deserve forgiveness?”

At that, Katherine snorted and shook her head. “To me? No. But… God is good… Maybe he will forgive you if you really change for the better.” She shrugged and finished her cigarette, throwing the cigarette butt in his empty coffee mug

He watched the bunched-up cigarette in the mug as the ashes floated to the surface of the remaining liquid. It was truly amazing and baffling that of all people she believed that he had a chance. He himself didn’t think he did.

“And I guess, what you need is not forgiveness; but redemption.” She added and he nodded in agreement.

“You really have the kindness of a schoolteacher, Katherine. Thank you.” He said genuinely and Katherine nodded, putting on her coat and pulling it tight around herself as she walked out with Gabriel following in tow. “I’m a big believer in second chances if the person is deserving.”

As soon as they stepped out of the diner, the cruel February cold crept up on them, making them both shiver and pull their coats tighter around themselves and rub their arms vigorously to stay warm. Somehow, it was comforting to Katherine to see the monster that taunted her for the past decade shivering as she did in the cold. He was knocked down a peg at least on that front.

“Do you have somewhere to be? Do you need a ride?” She asked through gritted teeth.

Gabriel declined. “I’d drive there myself. H-have a good night. It was nice talking to you.” He said, just about ready to run to his car to get away from the cold.

She nodded. “Don’t stay out too long. You’d catch a cold.” She went to leave before pausing to remove her hair tie and handing it to him. She had to fight hard not to laugh when he gave her a puzzled look. But it would be stupid to laugh at a former lunatic when they could still have their hand on the doomsday button and so, she remained silent.

“To tie your hair, Gabriel. It looks heavy and uncomfortable. Like this.” She explained, turning her back to him and gathering her hair, going through the motions of tying her hair for him to follow. Turning her back on him was another mistake. Like playing Russian Roulette with a machine gun. She exhaled sharply when he did not attack her. At first, she had the idea of tying it back for him but for obvious reasons, she did not go through with it.

“There. Isn’t that much better?” She smiled. He shrugged yet smiled gratefully. He did not feel any different.

They both turned and walked their separate way and despite her fear, Katherine hoped to run into this new Gabriel again someday.

“Gabriel?” She turned around abruptly, and he immediately came to a stop, turning around an raising a brow at her. “You have a very kind smile. You should use that to your advantage.” She called after him. Her statement made him laugh a little which ended with a small smile before he nodded and continued on his way.

That night, for the first time in fourteen years, Katherine did not have nightmares.

 . • °⛓✧༺  ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓. • °⛓✧༺  ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓. • °⛓✧༺  ༻*ੈ✩‧₊˚⛓. • °

Author’s Note: Thank you guys for reading this stuff! The first 3 installments of The Prophecy are my comfort movies and I’d been wanting to write something for it for a while but I didn’t know what because there’s barely any fanmade content for this franchise (And those that are mostly date back to the early 2000s) 

Gabriel is such a fun character and a real challenge to write since he kinda has two sides, the brooding angel and the sorta humble human. And I tried my best to do it good. I didn’t want to infantilize him but also wanted to keep that boomer-esque - doesn’t understand the hip lingo side without making him seem stupid. I also did not want to make Katherine seem too comfortable with him being around without making it creepy. 

Anyways! Thank you once again and lmk if you want me to write more stuff with The Prophecy bc it’s truly one of my favorites.     

#my writing #the prophecy #the prophecy 1995 #gabriel #archangel gabriel #christopher walken

[kittymaine]

Monsters Need Family Too Ch. 1

// Summary:    What if Bruce was a mopey little Mothman and Alfred was the ghost haunting Wayne Manor and Dick was a sad little changeling abandoned by the circus and Jason was a literal Frankenstein's Monster and Tim was a witch just trying to get his iPhone to run off the spirits of the dead? And so on and so forth.

A fun little series of ficlets about monster!Bats and how they find and love each other for the holiday season. //

Gotham as a city is one of the worst cities in the world. Everyone in the city knows it. Everyone in the country knows it. Even the low level consciousness that thrums beneath the city knows it and basks in its well earned reputation.

Not only is it one of the most violent and crime ridden cities in the world, it is also home to more strange and supernatural occurrences than anywhere on the globe. If people weren't so afraid of being shot or stabbed, it would probably be the paranormal capital of the world and a hub for paranormal investigators.

There are a lot of places in Gotham that purport to be haunted. Most of them are even legitimate. After all, murders and grisly deaths are common place in the Gotham, which makes the creation of ghosts pretty commonplace. But, nowhere in Gotham is more feared or haunted than Wayne Manor.

Wayne Manor sits in the middle of historic downtown Gotham. It's a huge gothic structure made out of sandstone bricks and slate roofs with parapets and arched stained glass windows and huge heavy wooden doors. Despite being in the middle of downtown and packed on all sides by huge office buildings and apartment complexes, it manages to have a small measure of green yard on all four sides that grows riotous with green vines and gnarled oak trees all fenced in with high rock walls topped with wickedly sharp spears to make climbing over them nearly impossible.

Officially, the extremely wealthy and extremely reclusive Bruce Wayne is the only person who lives inside. The only son of Thomas and Martha Wayne and their only surviving kin, Bruce is rumored to be strange, eccentric and terrified of the world outside his parents mansion. He very rarely ventures outside and is treated like a ghost story already by the young people who share his city.

He’s part of what makes Wayne Manor so terrifying. The other part is the rumors of the ghosts that can sometimes be seen from the windows that face the street.

People say they sometimes see an old man in old fashioned clothing in the yard or on the front porch or looking out the front facing windows sometimes. They say that he has a thin mustache and a fading hairline and that he is usually dressed in a bow tie and tailcoat. People only ever see him for a second before he disappears. But, it’s impossible for him to really be there. The only person who lives in the Manor is Bruce Wayne and he’s nowhere near that old.

The other bigger rumor is of a strange creature sometimes seen haunting the parapets and slanted roof of the Manor. Its huge hulking form merges well with the shadows, but sometimes photographs catch its supernaturally glowing red eyes or the hunch of huge wings extending from its back. They call it the Mothman of Gotham City and it's often seen gliding over the dark cloudy skies to and from the Manor. No one knows what it is or what it wants, but the rumor is that if it ever comes for you that death or madness are soon to follow it.

Nobody knows why it’s so often seen on or near Wayne Manor, but it’s more than enough to keep the natives of the city far away from the old crumbling building.

That’s what the people outside the Manor know of it. But, that’s not the whole story of Wayne Manor or its master, Bruce Wayne.

Bruce Wayne was never a normal boy. There was almost no chance that he would ever be one even from the start.

After a wedding that was so huge and magnificent that people still talk about it to this day, Thomas and Martha Wayne left on a year long tour of the world. When they returned at the end of that year it was with a tiny squealing baby wrapped in their arms. Alfred had been surprised by the little addition, as neither of them had mentioned anything during their weekly phone calls. When Alfred had asked if the baby was hers, Martha had smiled and only said that he was now. Everyone in Gotham assumed that Bruce was their child together and neither Martha nor Thomas ever said anything to the contrary.

Alfred never asked either of the Wayne's where the baby had come from and they had never told him. It wasn't his place to pry into his employer's private affairs and Alfred was always very aware of his place and how to mind it.

Bruce was a strange baby who only grew to be a stranger boy. He barely ate and had little interest in any food. Sweets and chicken and crackers were barely picked at, dinners were often left largely untouched and yet the boy was always on track with his growth. Thomas especially fussed and worried over Bruce, but every time he was weighed and measured he was on track for his age.

He was a quiet baby that never cried and barely babbled and grew into a quiet boy who didn't run or play or get into trouble. He was always watching and listening, absorbing and remembering everything that anyone ever said in front of him. Alfred was shocked many times by the boy's sudden appearance in a dark corner or behind a cracked door, despite Alfred's own military training. More than that, sometimes it seemed like the shadows enveloped the boy and blurred his edges in a way that Alfred could not always blame on his old and fading eyesight.

Despite how unnerving Bruce could be, it was hard not to fall in love with him. Whenever his parents weren't home, he would trail after Alfred with big pale blue eyes and curious looks until Alfred explained to him what he was doing and why. Bruce would listen quietly and ask thoughtful questions and continue to trot along after him quietly, always watching, always listening.

School was a disaster. Bruce was incredibly intelligent and his parents were part of one of the founding families of Gotham, so getting Bruce registered with Gotham Academy was not a problem. But, as soon as he began attending, things went downhill quickly.

Both Bruce's classmates and teachers found him unnerving. It didn't matter how gentle or quiet he was, by the end of the month they were all terrified of him. The administration, frustrated with the teachers who couldn't explain exactly what it was about Bruce that was so upsetting, moved him to their only other kindergarten class. Before the next month was out, the new teachers and students were also terrified of Bruce.

Before Bruce could be expelled by the most prestigious school in Gotham, his parents took him out. Unfortunately, it was too late to contain the fallout.

The teachers might have signed contracts agreeing to never discuss their students with the press, but the students and their parents signed no such documents. The press went wild with stories of the creepy child of Gotham's royal family. It was to be the beginning of Bruce Wayne’s urban legend. To protect Bruce, his parents squirreled him away in the manor, paying exorbitant prices for the best teachers to come to the Manor and teach him there.

And then, Thomas and Martha Wayne were gunned down after leaving a gala just a few blocks away from their home. Bruce was eight years old.

They left the care of Bruce to Alfred, likely because he was the only person other than themselves who obviously loved the boy. The other staff were all terrified of him. Thomas and Martha's family members had barely shown any interest in him at all. Though, they sure kicked up a fuss when they realized they weren't getting a dime from Thomas and Martha's estate. It was all Bruce's, or rather it belonged to Alfred until Bruce was old enough to take ownership of the home and the bank accounts. It was the social scandal of the year, all the Wayne wealth left in the hands of a butler of all things.

Alfred paid all the press and interviews with Bruce’s distant relatives with very little mind. He suspected they wouldn’t be kicking up such a fuss about being the boy’s real family if they saw how Bruce had been changed by his parents' death. He would have been no easy child to care for.

He was wild, broken in a way that Alfred didn't know how to deal with. He was still quiet and reclusive, but now that silence simmered with barely controlled anger. He stopped eating completely. Alfred even inventoried the pantry and refrigerator, but if Bruce was eating he wasn't getting food from the Manor kitchen. He barely spoke and when he did it was by screaming and railing.

One night, almost a month after Thomas and Martha Wayne had died, Alfred caught Bruce sneaking out of an upstairs window. The fight they had when Alfred stopped him was one for the history books.

"You don't understand!" a tiny Bruce Wayne screeched at Alfred, his voice ringing through the dark wood paneled halls. "I have to do something!" he screamed before choking off a sob.

Alfred kneeled down on his aching knees and pressed his hands to Bruce's little trembling shoulders. His bones were sharp and the pale skin around his eyes looked bruised and red. "I can't imagine what you're going through, dear boy," Alfred said as gently as he could.

"You don't understand!" Bruce wailed again, his pale eyes welling with big heavy tears that slowly overflowed to run down sallow hollowed cheeks. "I could have done something. I should have done something!"

"Dear child, there was nothing you could have done," Alfred soothed, attempting to pull Bruce into an embrace that he rejected forcefully.

"I mean it!" he shouted. "I'm not normal! I could have stopped it! I could have saved them," Bruce said before collapsing into tears and Alfred's arms at the same time.

Alfred did his best to comfort Bruce as he screamed and cried and railed against the world. His small fists beat against his chest and his teeth dug into his coat. The tears ran and ran and Bruce gasped and cried and sobbed for almost an hour before finally going limp and drained in Alfred's arms.

He carried the boy as gently as he could back to bed and tucked him in. He always looked so small and helpless in the huge four poster bed.

"I could tell something was wrong," Bruce murmured as Alfred tucked the blankets against him tighter. "I could feel something coming for weeks. I tried to tell mom, but I didn't know how to explain it. I've never felt something like that before."

Alfred stopped with a hand pressed over Bruce's chest and felt the steady rise and fall of his rib cage under his palm. Bruce’s eyelids were drooping and he looked like he would pass out any moment.

"I should have known it meant something bad would happen. I should have known to look harder and find the bad thing before it could happen. I'm a bad son," Bruce whispered with a wet wobble of his lower lip. But, there were no more tears to cry.

"Oh, Bruce," Alfred sighed. "Nothing could be further from the truth."

"You know I'm not a real boy, right, Alfred?" little Bruce turned big tortured eyes up at the old butler. "I'm strange. I’m not normal. Sometimes, I think I'm probably not human," he whispered.

Alfred pressed the hand not on Bruce's chest to his cheek. He stared into his charge's haunted eyes. Eyes so pale blue they were almost white, ringed in red skin and thick dark eyelashes.

"I know that you are a kind and gentle boy. I know that you loved your parents and were loved by them in turn. I know that I loved you hardly before I even knew it. You are smart and strong and even if you could have prevented the death of your parents, that was not your responsibility. It is the responsibility of parents to protect their children, not the other way around, certainly not while those children are still young," Alfred said all this very sternly. "Whatever you are or are not, these things will always be true."

Despite what must be a good bit of dehydration, a final silent tear slipped from Bruce's eye to land in the crevice between Alfred's wrinkled hand and Bruce's soft cheek.

"I love you too Alfred," Bruce choked out, lunging up to throw his arms around Alfred's neck in a brutal hug.

Alfred was startled for a moment before warming and wrapping his arms around the small precious boy in his arms. They embraced for a long time and when they finally disentangled Bruce dropped off to sleep within seconds.

Alfred stayed for a long time, long after Bruce finally fell asleep. Alfred felt very old just then.

He was perfectly aware that he was old, of course. He had served the Wayne family for years, ever since he was a young man just out of MI5. When he first started working for the Wayne's, he had worked for Thomas' father and Thomas was just a boy himself still in short pants. Now Thomas was dead, a fact that still felt untrue while everything else about the Manor felt normal and familiar. Now, Alfred was in control of a huge manor and held a controlling stake in an even bigger company as well as being the only family and guardian of a strange heartbroken little boy.

At that moment, Alfred felt the weight of the world on his shoulders and sagged beneath it.

But, he only let his grief overwhelm him for a short while. There was nothing for it, really. Things needed to be done and Alfred had to be the one to do it. That was all there was to it.

So, after allowing himself a quiet little crisis in Bruce's dark silent room, Alfred slowly struggled to his feet and made his slow ponderous way out into the hall. The hall door clicked shut quietly behind him.

Bruce's room was on the third floor, two sets of curving staircases led down to the open atrium at the bottom floor. There was also a narrow hidden staircase at the end of the hall that led up into the small claustrophobic rooms of the servant quarters located in the attic. Though his worn body called for bed, Alred didn't think his mind would be able to rest just yet. Not after all of little Bruce's talk of his own inhumanity. No, maybe a cup of tea would calm him down enough to finally rest.

Alfred made his cautious way toward the tall carpeted steps which would lead down to the bottom floor. He was only a few steps down toward the first staircase when his knee gave out. It was an old war injury, one that only usually bothered him when he had been on his feet too long. But, it had never chosen such an inopportune time to make itself known.

Tumbling down the steps, Alfred did his best to tuck himself into a ball. Unfortunately, that meant that when he hit the bottom of the steps he kept rolling into the banister which cracked and gave way under the force of the hit.

And then Alfred was falling.

And then, he was standing looking down at his own broken body crumpled in the middle of the atrium.

He looked incredibly frail, tossed limbs all akimbo on the polished parquet floors. A tiny trickle of blood made its way between his pale lips, probably from biting his tongue or a hit hard enough to knock a few teeth loose. His head was bent the wrong way, a snapped neck that would have been quick and painless.

Remembering his young charge slumbering above, Alfred quickly looked up but there was no movement from the floors above. It was only he and Bruce in the manor at night, the other servants much too terrified of the boy to sleep in the attic right above him. Alfred knew his tumble must have been very loud indeed, but Bruce was likely also very tired from his breakdown. He must have slept through it all.

Alfred thought of how devastated Bruce still was by the death of his parents. He thought of how he was the only person who knew and loved the strange boy sleeping above. He thought of how much it would destroy him to wake on his own and come downstairs to find Alfred's crumpled corpse. He wished that there was something he could do.

Well, maybe there was something he could do? There certainly was no harm in trying.

So, Alfred reached down and tried to pick up his body. He found that he could. Easily, in fact. His body felt strong and young and the weight of his own corpse felt like hardly more than an unwieldy rug. He gathered the body up and carried it down into the basement and dropped it on the cracked cement in front of the furnace. Something to deal with disposing of later.

He returned to the atrium with a mop and bucket, though there was really very little to clean. Still it felt better to be sure there was no evidence on the floor for the observant little boy to find in the morning.

After the floor was clean, he briefly washed out the mop and bucket and stored them in their appropriate cleaning closet. He made himself a cup of tea and drank it, no adverse effects there either.

Then, he went upstairs and got changed for bed. He laid in his bed and stared at the ceiling of his small room and wondered what was happening to him. It didn't seem possible that he could die and then clean up his own death as easily as he might chuck a German soldier into a hotel basement incinerator. If his body was in the basement, then how was he upstairs lying in bed? Or was the whole thing some kind of traumatic episode? It really just defied explanation from every angle.

The next morning, Alfred woke to his alarm going off. He couldn't say he really slept, per se. More like he blinked and it was morning.

He went through his normal routine of preparing breakfast and greeting the staff as they came in and making sure they had what they needed. He took a small detour to check the basement and yes there was his body just where he left it propped up against the old furnace. No time to panic, though, it was nearly breakfast. He roused Bruce at his normal time and here was his real test.

Alfred wanted to say he believed with 100% certainty that Bruce was a normal human boy. But, there were just too many strange things to account for. The way he survived without seemingly any food, the way he seemed to appear suddenly in rooms that he couldn't possibly have snuck into, the strange wavering of his image when he was cast in shadow.. It was too much to dismiss as mere eccentricity.

If Bruce really was something more than human, then there was a chance that he would take one look at Alfred and know what happened. If anything had happened. Alfred still wasn't sure if it wasn't just a strange hallucination.

But, Bruce was just quiet and exhausted the next day. If something was different about Alfred, Bruce didn't seem to notice.

Death was certainly a bit over exaggerated in the old butler’s estimation. If Bruce was fine with him this way and he could do his job just as easily as before, he saw no reason not to just continue with things just as they were. After all, Bruce needed him. And, so long as he did, Alfred would endeavor to be of service.

#dcu comics #batfam #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #fanfiction #halloween #ghosts #temporary character death #canonical character death #monsters need family too #kittywrites

[trulyinspiringmovies]

Fear Street Part Three: 1666

“Fear Street Part Three: 1666″ actually managed to turn me around on this series, but not completely.

Sarah Fier was a closeted lesbian in 1666. One night, she steals fermented blueberries from the local witch and has a party with her friends. She takes her lover, Hannah Miller, to the woods and they start making out. In the middle of it, they notice someone has seen what they’ve done. They’re worried that if word gets out, they’ll be hanged. The next day, food begins to rot, the water supply gets poisoned, and the pastor commits an unspeakable horror. Sarah starts to believe that maybe her immoral deeds invited Satan to her town.

I was surprised at how effective this movie was at revealing key information. The twists and reveals of this movie has retroactively made me like the other two movies a little better. I still stand by my ratings for them, but I can appreciate them a bit more. I initially thought I would like this movie the least since I was skeptical they could pull off the time period right. While the accents were really bad and they made no effort to make most of the characters look like they were from the time period, I can’t expect Robert Egger’s level of detail in a movie like this. Still, this movie does a lot of things right surprisingly. For starters, the romance in this movie was a whole lot better. Seeing Sarah and Hannah actually be in love was refreshing because it made me actually root for them, unlike Deena and Sam in 1994. While the first film had the main characters be lesbian for a reveal, this movie recontextualizes their sexuality as something tragic. They’re two girls who love each other, but can pay dearly for it if caught. Having these characters be cute together and having me root for them highlighted the oppression they must’ve felt during the time period. I’m always for movies that have inclusion that ties in with the rest of the story or is just casually mentioned to normalize it. I hate it when inclusion is weaponized for virtue signaling or advertisement. 1994 and 1978 had a bunch of licensed songs that drove me crazy, but 1666 had the luxury of having an original score. And let me tell you, this score was really good. It makes me wish that the whole series had an original score because the music choices up until this movie were nostalgia-bait at best. Another thing I’m glad took center stage was McCabe Syle’s Mad Thomas. I said he was born to play a villain in my last review and he proves me right in this movie. He’s outshining the rest of the cast with his performance. I have a lot of praise for this movie, but I still had issues with it. It sucks too since I wanted to really like this movie and give it a higher rating, but I can’t because the problems are just too glaring. When the movie cuts back to 1994, they immediately hit us with a licensed song. It’s almost as if they were holding it in until they couldn’t anymore. There’s also a complete disregard for the rules whenever the writers need something to happen. There are these two cops that get killed, but they don’t have Deena’s blood on them. The same thing happened with two hospital staff members in the first movie. The sequel-baiting also forfeits the possibility of this movie having decent closure. The person whom Josh was chatting with was revealed, but it was done in a way that felt like finishing a checklist. The post-credit scene also felt dumb because the book would’ve been taken in as evidence by the police. Finally, the dialogue goes from decent to bad as soon as we jump back to 1994. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes when they revealed who the evil person was. Other than that, this movie was better than I expected. It’s made me feel open to the idea of more entries into this world. I’m not outright excited for them, but I would watch them if they were to be made. Still, I’m glad it stuck the landing since this use of the medium has never been done before and I’d love to see more movies of this kind be made.

★★★

Watched on October 26th, 2022

#Fear Street Part Three: 1666 #July #2021 #Horror #Mystery #R #Leigh Janiak #October 2022 #3 stars

[spookyfilmz]

Fear Street Part Three: 1666 (2021)

My Overall Rating: 4/5 ★★★☆☆

Scare Rating: 2/5 ★★★☆☆

Suspense Rating: 4/5 ★★★★☆

Gore Rating: 3/5 ★★★☆☆

For the third and final Fear Street movie we flashback to 1666 where we finally meet Sarah Fier, the witch. During the nigh Sarah and her friends Hannah and Lizzie meet outside to take berry's that have a sort of hallucinogenic effect. During this time Sarah discovers a book of dark magic. During the party Sarah and Hannah veer away from the group and kiss in the woods, unknowingly being seen by Mad Thomas. The next day the food and water has been poisoned and sort of plague seems to come over Union. Sarah goes to Solomon Goode because she blames herself at is a punishment for committing sin and laying with another woman. The next day the pastor murders a bunch of children in the church and the town holds a meeting to converse wether or not witchcraft is responsible for the plague on the town. Caleb tells the crowd that Sarah and Hannah are the witches responsible after seeing them in the woods together and the two are set to be killed at dawn. Sarah escapes but Hannah is captured. Sarah decides to use the book of dark magic to save Hannah. She later discovers the book in Solomon Goodes house which he used to make a deal with the devil and possess the pastor to kill those children in exchange for wealth and power. A fight ensues and Sarahs hand is cut off in the process. Sarah manages to escape but is caught by the townspeople. At the execution Sarah confesses that she was the only witch in order to save Hannah from certain death. Flashing back to 1994 Deena realizes that the Goode family is responsible for all the murders and that they are still committing these sacrifices for power and wealth. In turn they realize they have to kill Sheriff Nick Goode to be able to put an end to everything once and for all. Will they succeed? or will the Sheriff continue his families reign of power over the two towns? Watch "Fear Street Part Three: 1666" on Netflix to find out!

Cast: Kiana Madeira, Sadie Sink, Benjamin Flores Jr., Olivia Scott Welch, Ashley Zuckerman, Randy Havens, Julia Rehwald

𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖞 𝕾𝖕𝖔𝖔𝖐y,

𝕯𝖆𝖓𝖎 ⊂(´･◡･⊂ )∘˚˳°

#fear street part 3: 1666 #fear street part 2: 1978 #fear street part 1: 1994 #fear street trilogy #fear street #deena johnson #sarah fier #actors #movies #celebrities #horror #horror movies #television #horror movie recommendations #horror films #horror movie review #movie reccomendations #movie review

[aleesblog]

Five Most Infamous Fictional Psychiatrists

Wall Street Journal

The Dice Man

By George Cockroft, writing as Luke Rhinehart (1971)

In this novel, a character named Luke Rhinehart is a middle-aged Manhattan psychiatrist suffering from depression. Disillusioned with medicine and with life, he finds freedom in the roll of the dice. One roll dictates that he carry out his deeply disturbing fantasy of raping the wife of his close colleague. When he knocks on her door and tells her what he plans to do, he’s taken aback by her compliance. He’s disturbed further when, after two agreeable hours, he realizes that he has changed in some indefinable but significant way. He extends the laws of chance to his clinical decision-making, which alleviates his deep-seated fear of failure and allows him to begin viewing his work as something of a game. He advises a female patient diagnosed with nymphomania to find work in a  busy Brooklyn brothel. To a slender young woman from Greenwich Village who likes talking about herself he says, "In summation, that as human beings go you are mediocre in all respects except in the quantity of your fortune."

The Silence of the Lambs

By Thomas Harris (1988) 

Hannibal Lecter is a serial killer who—before his conviction for nine homicides and subsequent commitment to the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane—was a highly respected forensic psychiatrist. He has an unerring capacity to strip people of their mental defenses and an intelligence that defies metrics. A cultured man, he’s endowed with a glacial calm and an iron will. We’re told that Lecter’s thoughts are no more bound by fear or kindness than “Paradise Lost” author John Milton’s were by physics. Hannibal abhors bad manners and enjoys eating the flesh of the intolerably rude. He delights in describing to Clarice Starling—the FBI trainee sent to seek his assistance in solving a case of serial murders—how he savored a census taker’s liver, which he cooked with fava beans and washed down with a glass of Amarone wine.

Super-Cannes

By J.G. Ballard (2000) 

Lured by tax concessions, a Mediterranean climate and a Euro-corporate lifestyle, dozens of multinational companies have moved their business into Eden-Olympia, a business park populated by a highly paid elite of senior managers, administrators and entrepreneurs. The flawed and dangerous antihero of this dystopia of technology is the staff psychiatrist Wilder Penrose, an “amiable Prospero” with evasive eyes and an eager smile, who steers his clients’ darkest dreams toward the daylight. Wilder’s vision is to create an intelligent modern city that promotes advanced health screening, up-to-the-minute gadgetry and the replacement of the civic with the commercial. But as the novel proceeds, it becomes clear that Wilder is more concerned with exciting the base instincts of those in charge. He explains to the book’s protagonist, Paul, that ever since he organized the drug and vice rings and a leather-jacketed “bowling club” whose sorties into the outside world leave Arab pimps and Senegalese trinket merchants bleeding in the gutters, the park’s chief executives no longer complain of stress and burnout and profits have soared.

The Alienist

By Machado de Assis (1882)

A young doctor decides to settle down and set up a medical practice near Rio de Janeiro. The corrupt local council, dazzled by Dr. Bacamarte’s impeccable credentials, welcomes him and gives him carte blanche to study mental illness free from oversight. As Bacamarte diagnoses more and more people as being mad, the town’s barber leads a revolt against him. Justifying his actions, Bacamarte explains: “Till now, madness has been thought a small island in an ocean of sanity. I am beginning to suspect that it is not an island at all but a continent.” After he has locked up more than 80% of the town’s population—including his own wife—Bacamarte suddenly suspects that it is the remaining, seemingly well-balanced minority who are crazy. Rectitude, patience, loyalty and modesty, he now believes, are the true signs of mental illness. And as the most rational individual in the region, he is now compelled to diagnose himself as mad, spending the final 17 months of his life in solitary confinement. The author of “The Alienist” was an epileptic with considerable experience of real doctors. This 80-page novella is steeped in humor, in addition to being a tale of professional power run amok.

Asylum

By Patrick McGrath (1997) 

Peter Cleave, the medical superintendent of an English asylum for the criminally insane, is the narrator of this story. Set in 1959, the tale revolves around the fatal erotic obsession of Stella Raphael, the cultured and restless wife of one of Peter’s colleagues. The object of her passion is the talented sculptor Edgar Stark, who was committed to the asylum for murdering and disfiguring his wife. That doesn’t prevent a relationship with Stella from blossoming once Edgar escapes from the asylum. Stella meets up with him in London and establishes a bohemian life. The scandal forces Stella’s husband, Max, to leave his position as a forensic psychiatrist and work elsewhere, but that doesn’t put an end to the affair. Peter is a rather dry narrator, but there are hints of his deficiencies as a psychiatrist. Infatuated with her, ignoring his duty as her psychiatrist, he pursues her obsessively, to a not altogether surprising ending