#I wanted to see exactly how many of the movies I had seen as a kid

[scribblesofagoonerr]

first christmas | buddy & monkey: double the trouble

summary: the second part of the flash back to buddy & monkey's first christmas.

double the trouble masterlist

Christmas morning had arrived, and the faint golden light filtered through the curtains. You tiptoed down the stairs, the cosy warmth of the house contrasting with the crisp winter chill outside.

As you reached the bottom of the stairs, your eyes widened at the sight before you. Beneath the Christmas tree, a mountain of presents was neatly stacked up, each of them wrapped in colourful paper.

The room seemed to sparkle with magic, it was the kind you had only seen in movies or dreamed about as a child.

"Woah," You whispered, your voice filled with disbelief.

Leah appeared from the kitchen, holding a steaming drink in her hands that definitely wasn't for her considering she despised coffee, "Merry Christmas, my girl." She said warmly, stepping closer to you.

You blinked, still trying to process what you were seeing, "Are... Are all of these for me?" You asked hesitantly, as if afraid the answer might be no.

Leah chuckled and nodded, "For you, and for Buddy," She said, gesturing toward your favourite little buddy, who was babbling happily on the floor, sitting between Jordan's legs, attempting to chew on wrapping paper.

Jordan grinned at you, "Go ahead and open them, little one." She encouraged you.

You were hesitant, glancing at the sheer number of presents under the tree, "But... But I didn't ask for any of this," You said quietly, your fingers brushing against the wrapping paper of one of the small gifts.

"Well that's okay," Leah said, placing the steaming mug on the coffee table before moving to crouch down beside you, "You've been on Santa's nice list, and luckily, he knew exactly what you would like."

You brow furrowed as you tilted your head, "There's so many of them-- Wait, he knew?" Your eyes felt like they bulged out of it's sockets at those words.

"Yeah, he's been watching you all year round to see whether you've been bad or good," Leah stated, her expression turning playful, "Clearly Santa thinks you've been good this year." She added.

You scrunched up your nose, "He still sounds like a creep," You muttered, making Jordan burst into laughter from across the room, "I don't know what to open first." You added, feeling slightly overwhelmed.

"It's okay to take your time with them," Leah reassured you, "How about you over this side first?"

"Okay," You said, picking up a box about twice the size of your hand as you carefully tore into the wrapping paper, revealing a LEGO set. Your eyes lit up in excitement as you held it up, "Whoa, cool! LEGO! Thanks! I wanted this!" You exclaimed, turning to Leah and Jordan with a wide grin.

"There's plenty more to open," Jordan said, nodding toward the pile.

You dove back in, picking up another package, this one wrapped in a different kind of wrapping paper, "Cool! I love it, thank you!" You exclaimed, holding up the hoodie in your hands.

"That one is of my parents," Leah explained, smiling softly.

"Really?" Your eyes widened in shock, "I... I never expected it. Can I open the rest?" You asked eagerly.

"Of course you can," Leah said, ruffling your hair affectionately.

Meanwhile, Buddy had found her own source of entertainment: the discarded wrapping paper. She giggled and crinkled it in her tiny fists, clearly more interested in the noise it made than the actual gifts.

"She's more entertained by that than her presents," Jordan laughed, shaking her head in amusement.

"We could have saved so much money," Leah joked, amused with Buddy's antics, "You're not supposed to eat it, bubba."

But you were too engrossed in your presents to notice, "Woah! No way-- I have wanted one of these for ages! Thank you!" You grinned, holding the box of a fresh Nintendo Switch, one that you'd been looking at for ages.

"Don't thank us, thank Santa Clause," Leah teased.

"No way. That dudes' a creep!" You shot back, making Leah and Jordan both laugh, "Can I set it up, now?"

"You still have other presents to open, but in a bit you can," Leah said, shaking her head fondly.

"Can I take it out with us? Please?" You asked, already planning how you'd show off your new toy.

"That's fine, just be careful, okay?" Leah agreed.

"Deal! Thank you-- Whoa, this is totally awesome. Cool, Mario Kart!" You exclaimed, holding up the game in your hand.

"Open the present on your right, little one," Jordan prompted, clearly knowing what it was.

You tore into it eagerly and gasped, "A steering wheel? Awesome!"

"Apparently this is the one that's top of the range at the moment," Jordan explained with a proud smile, "We asked the man himself, who was certain about it."

"So cool!" You said, your excitement growing with each gift.

By the time you had opened all of your gifts, you were overwhelmed with the stacks of presents that you had from Leah, Jordan and both of their families, "I... I don't even know what to say," You admitted, looking at Leah and Jordan with wide eyes, "Thank... Thank you."

Leah smiled, leaning down to hug you tightly, "You're worth it, my girl."

Jordan joined the hug, Buddy nestled in her arms, "Merry Christmas, little one. Welcome to the family."

"Are we there yet?" You groaned, slumping dramatically in your seat as the car pulled out of the driveway.

Jordan glanced at you through the rearview mirror, one eyebrow arched in bemusement, "We've only just left our house, little one. At least wait until we're on the motorway before you start complaining, eh?"

"But I'm bored, and the car is cramped!" You whined, squirming in the backseat for emphasis, you were sat beside Buddy in her carseat, making the space feel even tighter, "How much longer until we're there?"

"About forty minutes," Leah replied from the passenger seat, scrolling idly through her phone.

"Forty minutes? That's, like, forever!" You protested, dragging out the word with as much melodrama as possible.

"Time will pass before you know it," Leah said, resisting the urge to roll her eyes at your dramatics.

"I don't think it will. I'm so bored," You complained, letting out an exaggerated huff and then leaned forward slightly, "I'm hungry. Can I have some chocolate?"

"No," Leah replied firmly, her tone leaving no room for debate, "You'll spoil your dinner."

"But I'm really hungry," You pressed, sticking out your lower lip in an attempt to look pitiful.

Jordan chuckled in amusement, her eyes focused on the road up ahead, "I'm sure you'll survive until we get there, little one."

"I don't think so," You countered with mock seriousness, "I'll starve before we get to Milton Keynes!"

Leah snorted, shaking her head, "You're being ridiculous. You literally had breakfast this morning. You'll survive."

"I'm not convinced," You grumbled under your breath, slumping further in your seat. Turning your attention to Buddy, you wiggled your fingers toward her sock-clad-feet, earning a squeal of delight from the 8 month old, "What do you think, Buddy? Aren't they being unfair?"

"Oh I'm sure she's definitely going to agree with you," Jordan teased, glancing at you in the rearview mirror, a smirk tugging at her lips.

You continued entertaining Buddy, making silly faces and tickling her feet, "Mummy and Mama are trying to starve me," You declared dramatically, "It's an outrage, right?"

Buddy responded with a happy babble and flailed her little arms, which you immediately interpreted as agreement, "See? Even Buddy agrees with me!" You said triumphantly, "So, can I have chocolate now?"

"My answer is still no, Menace," Leah said without missing a beat, her tone firm but playful.

"Ugh, so not fair," You grumbled, crossing your arms over your chest and slouching back into your seat.

You absolutely despised long car rides, and you definitely made sure that both Leah and Jordan were painfully aware of your feelings.

"Are we there yet?"  You questioned no less than 10 minutes later.

Leah let out an exaggerated sigh, "Not since the last time you asked, no."

"I'm bored!" You exclaimed dramatically.

"Hi, bored," Jordan quipped without missing a beat.

"Ha ha ha, you're hilarious..." You muttered sarcastically.

"I know," Jordan replied smugly, "I get that a lot."

You scrunched your face up, "Urgh, you're so annoying, and I'm still bored."

"Hi, still bored," Jordan teased, flashing you a cheeky grin in the mirror as she strummed her hands on the car steering wheel to the music that was playing, and ironically enough it was driving home for christmas.

"Babe," Leah chuckled, shaking her head, "Maybe I should've gotten you a Dad Jokes book for Christmas instead."

"No need, love. I'm naturally gifted," Jordan replied with a wink.

"More like you’re naturally annoying," You muttered, earning a laugh from Leah.

"Alright, Monkey," Leah said, turning slightly in her seat to face you, "If you're going to keep whining, how about we play a game to pass the time?"

"A game? Like what?" You asked cautiously.

"How about the quiet game?" Leah suggested, her lips twitching with amusement.

You scoffed, shaking your head in protest, "That's lame! Can't we play something better instead?"

"Like what?" Jordan questioned.

"Um... I don't know, like 'I spy'!" You declared, your eyes lighting up.

"Alright," Leah said with a sigh, "You start then."

You grinned mischievously, "I spy with my little eye... something red!"

"The air freshener?" Jordan guessed.

"Nope!" You exclaimed.

"The presents in the gift bag," Leah tried her luck.

"Wrong again!" You smirked in amusement.

Jordan arched her eyebrow, "Buddy's coat?" She asked.

"Nope, not even close," You said smugly.

"Something red? There's not much else in here," Leah mused.

"Give up?" You asked, bouncing slightly in your seat with excitement.

"I do," Jordan admitted, using her free hand to scratch the back of her neck.

"Not yet," Leah said, narrowing her eyes as she scanned the road, "Is it that road sign we just passed?"

"Nope! You know, you're both terrible at this!" You teased, leaning back with a triumphant grin.

"Alright, what is it?" Leah finally asked.

You grinned mischievously, glancing between the two of them, "It's Leah's face when she's mad!" You exclaimed, dissolving into giggles.

Jordan burst into laughter, clapping her hands on the steering wheel while Leah groaned, shaking her head, though a small smile tugged at her lips despite her mock glare.

"You are such a little Menace sometimes, you know that?" Leah said, her tone affectionate even as she rolled her eyes.

“We’re here! Finally!” You exclaimed, eager to escape the confines of the car.

“Finally! I don’t think I could handle anymore of your complaining,” Jordan quipped, turning off the ignition.

“Cheer up, grumpy. It’s Christmas!” Leah chuckled, undoing her seatbelt with practiced ease.

“Yeah, Jord, cheer up. It’s Christmas!” You echoed Leah’s words, grinning mischievously.

“Ha ha, very funny. I’ll give you ‘cheer up’” Jordan retorted with mock indignation as she climbed out of the car, “Looks like your mum’s already waiting at the door. How about you get Buddy out, and Monkey and I will grab the presents?”

“Sure,” Leah replied easily, moving to unbuckle Buddy.

You, however, scrunched up your nose, “Do I have to?” You groaned.

“Come on, there’s not a lot,” Jordan nudged you lightly with her elbow as she walked around to the boot, “I promise I won’t make you carry the heavy ones.”

“Fine,” You muttered, taking the smaller gift bag Jordan handed you.

“Merry Christmas!” Amanda’s cheerful voice greeted from where she stood on the doorstep, waiting to welcome you all inside.

“Hi, Mum!” Leah waved as she lifted Buddy out of her car seat, expertly balancing her on hip while shutting the door, “Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas!” Jordan shouted back in response.

“Oh, there’s Nana’s little princess!” Amanda cooed, her attention immediately on Buddy, “Merry Christmas, sweet girl.”

Leah faintly smiled, “She’s been a bit fussy this morning, and she hasn’t napped at all.”

“Oh, is that so?” Amanda frowned, her arms outstretched, “Are we being fussy for your Mummies, hm?” She scooped Buddy into her embrace, cradling with her with practiced ease.

“Just a little bit,” Jordan chuckled, catching up to her with the presents in hand.

“Merry Christmas, sweetheart,” Amanda greeted you, readjusting Buddy her arms so she could envelope you in a warm hug.

You smiled slightly in response, “Hi. Merry Christmas.” You greeted, though, you were still feeling a bit reserved and shy despite the festivities.

“Are they here yet? Are they here yet?” A voice boomed from inside the house as Jacob bolted down the stairs. His excitement was palpable as he skidded to a stop, “You’re here!” He exclaimed.

“Hi, J. Merry Christmas!” Leah greeted her younger brother, but his attention was entirely on you.

“Monkey!” Jacob yelled.

“Jacob!” You parroted with equal enthusiasm, your shyness now completely revoked.

Leah gave her brother an exaggerated look of mock hurt, “Wow. Just forget I exist, huh?”

“Best friend already,” Jordan chimed in, amusedly.

“Come check out the new Xbox game I got for Christmas! You have to see it” Jacob tugged at your arm, his excitement infectious.

You hesitated, the sudden attention making you flinch slightly, “Uh… Can I?” You turned to ask Leah and Jordan.

Leah nodded warmly, “Go ahead, Jacob seems itching to show you it.”

“Dinner’s not for a while yet,” Amanda piped in.

“Come on!” Jacob insisted as he practically dragged you toward the stairs, “Wait until you see it!” He called over his shoulder, practically vibrating with excitement..

Amanda chuckled as she watched you disappear upstairs, “They seem to be getting along already.”

“Like two peas in a pod,” Jordan agreed, settling down the presents in the hallway.

David appeared in a festive jumper, his face lighting up when he saw Leah, Jordan and Buddy, “I thought I heard familiar voices,” He teased, pulling Leah into a hug first, “Merry Christmas, sweetheart.”

“Merry Christmas, Dad,” Leah smiled, returning the hug with the older man, “I love your jumper. Is that a Christmas gift from Mum?” She teased.

“Oh yes, your Mum brought it for me,” David chuckled, moving to exchange a hug with Jordan, “Hi, Jord. Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, David,” Jordan replied, grinning.

David’s attention shifted to Buddy, “And here’s our little angel!” He cooed, tickling her sock-clad feet, “What’s with that frown?” He wondered, noticing the grumpy expression the 8 month old currently had on her face.

“She’s grumpy, I think she’s had too much excitement already,” Leah explained, amusedly.

“Oh I see,” David chuckled, reaching out to take Buddy from Amanda, “You want to come to Grandad for a cuddle? Oh, come here–  Are you having a good Christmas?” He cooed to the little girl in his arms.

“Yeah, we’ve tried to eat all of the wrapping paper of the presents this morning, haven’t we?” Leah cooed, gently stroking Buddy’s cheek, “I honestly think we’d have saved money just by giving her that.” She joked.

Amanda chuckled, shaking her head as they all headed further inside the house, “So, how’s it been so far?”

“Yeah, it’s been okay. We opened presents this morning, I think Monkey was a bit overwhelmed with the amount there was,” Leah began to explain in a gentle tone of voice, “But I think she’s liking it so far.”

“That’s good then,” Amanda smiled brightly, “Did she like the hoodie that we brought her, and everything else?” She asked.

“Oh, yeah. She loved it!”Leah replied, nodding in agreement, “She’s obsessed with Shrek so it was perfect!” She added.

Jordan chuckled, “You should have seen her face, it was a picture.”

“And how’s little miss been?” Amanda wondered, gesturing to Buddy, who was wriggling in David’s arms and eager to be close to the tree, “Did she enjoy opening her presents?”

“Oh, I think she was more interested in the wrapping paper than her actual presents,” Leah joked.

David laughed in amusement, “Well that’s to be expected of course at her age.”

"Yeah, she's obsessed with anything that she can grab and put in her mouth at this point,” Jordan retorted as she began to take her coat off, “The baubles and the lights on the tree haven't stood a chance.”

"Still trying to eat everything, huh? She's just like Leah when she was that age. Couldn't leave anything alone," David quipped, shooting a playful grin at Leah.

Jordan smirked, "That explains a lot."

Leah shot Jordan a look of outrage as she took her coat off and hung it up on the coat rack just as Amanda chimed in, "Your Grandma will be arriving shortly. I think she's looking forward to seeing both of the girls again."

Just then, Jacob's voice echoed from up the stairs, "Monkey has just beaten my high score!"

You couldn’t resist a cheeky reply, “Can’t help it if you’re a sore loser!” Your playful tone earned a round of laughter from the adults in the room.

“Well it sounds like those two are having fun at least,” Amanda remarked with a smile.

Leah turned her attention to Buddy, who was starting to squirm and whine in David’s arms, “Oh what’s the matter, bubba?” She cooed, gently taking the 8 month old back from the man.

“I think somebody’s a bit fussy and wants their mummy,” David cooed.

Leah kissed the top of Buddy’s head, bouncing her lightly, “Come here, bubba. You’re tired, aren’t you? There’s just so much excitement going on today, isn’t there? Everyone’s coming round to see you!”

Just then, the doorbell rang.

“Oh, that’ll be your Grandma arriving I think– Or maybe someone else,” Amanda said, heading toward the hall.

“I’ll go and answer it,” Leah shifted Buddy slightly in her arms, “Shall we go see who’s at the door, bubba? I wonder who it could be,” She murmured softly as she approached the door.

Opening it, Leah smiled warmly, “Oh look, it’s Grandma Berny!” She exclaimed, her voice tinged with excitement. Adjusting Buddy to free one arm, she leaned in to hug Berny, “Hi Grandma, Merry Christmas!”

“Hello, love,” Berny greeted, wrapping Leah in a warm hug before turning her attention to Buddy, “And if it isn’t Grandma’s little Christmas pudding! Oh, don’t you look absolutely adorable?” She cooed, gesturing to the outfit Buddy currently had on.

Leah smiled and offered Buddy to Berny, “You want to go to Grandma for a cuddle?”

“Oh, come here, darling,” Berny cooed, taking Buddy into her arms.

Leah glanced at the bags Berny carried, “Do you want me to take anything for you?” She wondered.

“Oh, if you could, thanks love,” Berny replied warmly, shifting Buddy slightly to give her a better grip. She turned her attention to the baby in her arms and smiled, “Are you having a good Christmas, darling? I bet your Mummies have spoiled you absolutely rotten, haven’t they?”

Leah chucked, her eyes full of affection as she watched the two, “She has been spoiled. They both have,” She admitted with a proud smile.

“I don’t doubt that for a second. Where is Monkey?” Berny asked curiously.

“She’s upstairs with Jacob playing on the Xbox,” Leah replied with a small smile.

“Oh I see,” Berny chuckled, knowingly, “Did she like her presents I bought her? Your mum mentioned you’d be opening them at home before you came over.”

"Yeah we figured it would be easier to do it all in one place to save Monkey feeling too overwhelmed, because this is all just so new to her. But she really did love all of her presents," Leah said warmly.

"I'm sure she did,” Berny said reassuringly, “She'll get used to it in no time, love. It'll just take a bit of time, won't it?"

Leah’s smile faltered, “Yeah, I hope so. It just makes me so sad that she's never gotten to experience this all before, you know?"

Berny nodded, her expression softening, “I know, love. But there are still so many years to make up for it.”

"Few years to make up for what?" Jordan’s voice chimed in as she entered the room/

"Hiya, Jord. Merry Christmas!" Berny greeted her warmly.

"Merry Christmas, Berny!" Jordan replied with a smile.

"I was just filling Grandma in on how this morning went with the girls opening their presents," Leah explained.

Jordan sighed lightly, “Oh yeah, I think it was a bit much for her.”

Leah’s jaw tightened, her frustration bubbling to the surface, “It just makes me sad that Monkey never properly experienced this all before, all because of that waste of space.” She said bitterly.

Jordan placed a gentle hand on Leah’s arm, “Careful, Le, she might hear you.”

“I just don’t get it,” Leah continued, her voice low but firm, “That man, honestly! He’s… He’s treated her horribly in the past. You can tell by the way she reacts sometimes.”

“I know, love,” Berny interjected softly, “But she’s a part of this family now, and we’re going to make it the best for her. I know you’re angry, but holding onto that won’t help anything now, will it?”

Leah exhaled deeply, nodding, “Yeah, I suppose you’re right there,”

“Exactly,” Berny said firmly, “Now, I need to go and say hello to your mum and dad. Has anyone else arrived yet?”

“No, you’re the first. But I don’t think they’ll be long,” Leah replied.

From upstairs, you couldn’t help but call out, “Jacob’s crying because he’s a sore loser!”

“I am not!” Jacob’s voice protested indignantly and loud enough to carry through the house.

“Oh, that sounds like trouble,” Leah muttered, wincing at the sheer volume of your teasing, “That’s my cue to go sort it out.”

“I think I’ll join you in the living room,” Jordan chuckled as she followed Berny back into the other room, “Good luck with that one, Le.”

You smirked as Leah’s footsteps approached, “What’s going on up here then?” She asked, stepping into the room.

“Jacob’s crying about the fact he’s losing his game,” You replied with a mischievous snicker, thoroughly amused by his sulking.

“I am not!” Jacob fired back, his cheeks flushing, “All I’m saying is–”

“All he’s saying is that he’s a complete sore loser who can’t handle it,” You interrupted with a cheeky grin.

“No, I’m not!” Jacob protested.

“Yeah, right,” You quipped, smirking at the lad.

Leah rolled her eyes playfully, “Alright, alright. It sounds like this arguing isn’t getting either of you anywhere. Grandma’s arrived if you want to come and say hello.”

You shrugged nonchalantly, glancing at Jacob with a smirk, “To be continued…”

“To be continued,” Jacob grumbled in response, clearly not over the teasing.

As you followed Leah out of the room, she glanced over her shoulder, her gaze softening, “What’s he like, eh? Honestly, such a big kid sometimes. You wouldn’t believe he’s 19,” She joked, noting your distant change of behaviour, “Hey, you alright? You’re very quiet all of the sudden.”

“I’m okay,” You murmured, keeping your voice steady.

“Are you sure?” Leah pressed gently, stopping to look at you properly, “Listen, I know today might feel like a lot for you, and it’s okay if it is.”

“I’m alright, I promise,” You assured her, even though your chest felt a little tight.

Leah nodded, but didn’t move just yet, “Alright, well, if it gets too much then you’ll let either me and Jord know, yeah?”

“I will,” You said, your voice soft.

“Good,” Leah said, a small smile tugging at her lips, “Okay good. We just want you to have the best Christmas this year, Monkey.”

“I’m okay,” You hesitated for a moment before speaking, “I’m enjoying the day… It’s just… Well, it’s a lot. I’ve never gotten anything like this before, and now with all of your family… I’ve just never gotten to experience anything like it.”

Leah crouched slightly to meet your gaze, “I can understand it’s a bit overwhelming for you, my girl.” She said softly.

“A little,” You admitted, feeling your cheeks heat up, “But I’m grateful! It’s just… I didn’t expect to get so many presents. I’m just still trying to wrap my head around it.”

Leah’s expression softened even more as she gave your shoulders a reassuring squeeze, “You’re a part of this family now, Monkey, and you are so loved, my girl,” Her voice remained soft but steady, “You don’t have to try and wrap your head around it all at once. This is new, I know, but you deserve all of it, okay? Every single present, every cuddle and every once of love.”

You blinked, your throat tightening as her words sank in, “Thanks Le.” You managed to give her a small smile.

“That’s my girl,” Leah said, grinning as she pulled you into a warm hug, “Now, come on, let’s head down and see Grandma before she starts wondering where we’ve disappeared to.”

You followed Leah down the stairs, her hand still lightly on your back, grounding you. The warmth of the living room enveloped you as you entered, the hum of chatter, laughter, and the gentle crack of the fireplace filling the space.

“There she is,” Berny exclaimed, spotting you standing beside Leah, “Hello dear! Merry Christmas!”

“Merry Christmas, Berny,” You murmured shyly, feeling a slight blush creep onto your cheeks.

Amanda approached with a cup of tea for Berny, grinning as she glanced at you, “See, Mum? She’s fitting right in, isn’t she?”

“Of course she is!” Berny declared, beaming at you, “This family wouldn’t be the same without her now, would it?”

Leah flopped onto the sofa beside Jordan, while Buddy was nestled against her chest peacefully asleep, “I told you, Monkey. You’re stuck with us forever.”

“Forever,” Jordan echoed with a wink.

“I’m glad to be here,” You couldn’t help but smile a little wider, the overwhelming sensation from earlier ebbing away as you settled amongst the warmth of Leah’s family.

"Oh, I'm so full from Turkey. I don't think I could eat anymore," Jacob complained, slumping down in his seat.

"I'll second you on that one," Ben replied in agreement.

"Oh right, well in that case then, I guess it's more pudding for the rest of us!" Amanda joked, knowing it would spark a reaction.

"Pudding? I always have room for that!" Jacob exclaimed, sitting upright in his chair again.

The conversation continued as you glanced around the room. Here you were, sitting at the large table with Leah's family -- her mum's side at least. You donned an emerald paper hat on the top of your head, the result of winning a Christmas cracker earlier. The joke you pulled out with it had been painfully cringeworthy, yet it still made you giggle. In your hands was a small whistle you'd been blowing occasionally, much to Leah's annoyance. She had already shot you several pointed looks, though the little smirk on her lips betrayed her amusement.

"What's so special  about this pudding anyway?" You asked, leaning closer to Jacob and Ben.

"It's not about the pudding, Monks'," Jacob replied, declaring his own nickname he’d given you for himself, "It's about the tradition. And the custard. Lot's of custard."

"Don't forget the brandy sauce," Ben added with a grin.

"You lot had better save some for the rest of us!" Holly called from the other end of the table.

"What time is the Queen's speech on? We can't miss that!" One of Leah's Aunts questioned, you were a bit unclear on their name though since there was so many of them.

"Oh, it's about to start-- quick, somebody find the remote!" Amanda exclaimed, her sudden urgency making you jump slightly.

"Has anyone seen it?" Leah asked, standing up to help look.

"Found it!" David called, holding the remote up triumphantly.

If there's one thing you had learnt about today, it was that Leah's family was very patriotich when it came to anything to do with the royal family, as they all clustered around the TV.

Buddy, who had just woken up from her nap, was wide awake and wiggling around on her playmat that had been set down on the floor.

At least yourself, Jacob and Ben didn't seem too bothered about the speech though.

"What was so special about a speech from the Queen?" You whispered to Jacob, curious to know what had everyone so hooked.

"It's another tradition," Jacob replied, "Though it's a bit boring, really, if you ask me."

"It definitely is," Ben agreed, clearly unimpressed.

"Shush! It's starting!" Holly hissed, glaring at the three of you.

"Geesh, so serious," Jacob joked, winding his cousin up.

Ben snorted, leaning over to you, "She's always like this when the Queen's speech comes on. One year, she even shushed the dog."

"I heard that!" Holly said sharply, throwing a napkin in Ben's direction.

"Shush, you three," Leah chimed in, sending you a pointed look, but you couldn't help but giggle even more.

The speech began, and the room fell into a respectful silence-- well mostly. Buddy didn't want to be quiet, with her tiny fits and infectious giggles, and seemed completely uninterested in the royal tradition. She was quite happy to babble, grabbing her toys that you and Jacob waved in front of her.

"She's got the right idea," Ben joked, laughing softly as Buddy squealed in delight, "It's boring ain't it, little miss?"

Amanda shushed everyone, but you couldn't help but smile as Buddy wiggled happily, oblivious to the importance of the moment.

"Is it over yet?" You whispered to Jordan, who chuckled in amusement and wrapped her free arm around your shoulder, "How long does this thing go on for?"

"It's almost over, little one," Jordan replied in a hushed tone of voice.

You were most relieved when the speech ended, as Berny turned to the group and sighed contently, "That was lovely, as always. A nice way to reflect on the year."

"Reflect on how I've still never made it through the whole thing awake," Jacob muttered in response.

"Alright, who's ready for dessert, then?" Amanda asked, standing up, "We've got Christmas pudding, mince pies, yule log, and Ben's favourite-- trifle."

"Trifle? I've got room for trifle!" Jacob declared, already heading toward the kitchen.

"Of course, you do," Leah muttered, rolling her eyes.

Amanda caught your eye and smiled warmly, "Do you want to help me serve, sweetheart?"

"Uhm, sure," You replied with a slight bit of hesitance, standing to follow her.

As you helped bring out the desserts, Amanda leaned in closer, "How are you enjoying the day? It's so lovely to have you here with us, you know."

"Thank you," You said, a bit shyly, "It's been nice. It's different from what I'm used to, but still good."

"I'm glad," Amanda said gently, "I know change can be difficult sometimes, but Leah and Jordan, I know they think the world of you. They're so proud of how far you've come."

You felt a lump in your throat at her kind words, "I'm really grateful for them, and for being here with you all, too... And, thank you for my presents. I didn't expect anything, I love my Shrek hoodie."

"You're welcome, sweetheart. We're the lucky ones to have you as part of this family now," Amanda moved her free arm around to give you a side hug, "Now, let's get this dessert out before Jacob starts to raid the fridge now, eh?"

The evening continued with more laughter and chatter as the pudding was served. Buddy sat in her high chair, clapping her hands excitedly as Leah fed her small spoonfuls of custard.

"You're going to spoil her," Jordan teased, watching Leah's doting behaviour.

"She's just enjoying Christmas, aren't you, bubba?" Leah cooed, pressing a kiss to Buddy's cheek.

As the evening began to wound down, you found yourself nestled on the sofa in between Leah and Jordan as the family gathered for a raucous game of charades.

"No, that's cheating-- You can't do that!" Leah shot out in protest.

Ben chuckled, "Why not? It's not in the rules!"

"Yes it is," Leah fired back, her competitive streak showing.

"No it's not," Ben scoffed, "Someone? Help us out here..." He looked to the rest of the family for their help.

Holly glanced over the rules briefly on her phone after a quick Google search, "He's right, Le. It's not in the rules that he can't." She added, sticking up for her younger brother.

"Since when?" Leah muttered in disbelief, arching an eyebrow.

"Since always if you read the rules," Ben quipped, smirking.

"Outrageous that is!" Leah scoffed, crossing her arms over her chest, before it was time to take her turn.

"You call that a gorilla? It looks more like a constipated penguin," Jacob teased as Leah flailed her arms around.

Leah took the chance to throw a cushion at him, "You couldn't even guess 'Kangaroo' so you can't talk!"

You were starting to feel yourself growing tired, opting to rest your head on Jordan's shoulder, "You doing alright, little one? I know it's been a big day."

"M' okay,"  You replied quietly in agreement, not wanting to stir too much attention to yourself, "It's been the best Christmas I've ever had." You added, wrapping your free arm around her.

Jordan smiled, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of your head, "Good, you deserve it, Monkey."

You couldn't help but faintly smile, watching in amusement at the bickering between Leah and Jacob still about the game as your eyelids started to become heavier.

"I think it's time to call it a night," David retorted, motioning to the way you were practically almost falling asleep, "Monkey's falling asleep."

"M' not tired," You protested against the idea, but the way you couldn't keep your eyes open spoke for a lot of things.

Leah turned her attention away from the competitive game, her lips quirking into a knowing smile, "I think you might be right there, Dad," She agreed, taking a glance at the clock, "Alright, time for bed."

You would be spending the night in Leah's childhood home, so at least you didn't have to travel back to London tonight, considering Leah and Jordan had both had a bit to drink and neither of them could drive under the circumstances.

You groaned softly at the suggestion, not thrilled with the idea of leaving the comforting warmth of Jordan's shoulder, "M' not tired." You mumbled again,  though the sleepy slur in your voice gave you away completely.

Jordan chuckled, gently nudging you upright, "You can keep saying that, but your heavy eyes are telling us a different story, little one."

Buddy, meanwhile, was still awake, babbling happily on Amanda's lap, her tiny hands reaching for Amanda's face as she giggled, "I think this one's trying to pull an all-nighter," She joked, bouncing Buddy lightly.

Leah smiled as she approached, effortlessly scooping Buddy into her arms, "Oh, no, missy," She cooed, "It's bedtime, isn't it, bubba?" However, Buddy responded with delighted squeals, clearly not in agreement.

"Come on, little one," Jordan said, standing up from the sofa as she reached out to help you up, her strong arms steadying you as you wobbled slightly.

You sighed, reluctantly letting her guide you towards the stairs, "But it's still Christmas," You murmured, glancing back at the warm inviting living room and the game still going on.

"And Christmas will still be here tomorrow morning," Leah reminded you with a gentle smile as she followed, Buddy snuggled in her arms, "You're exhausted, you need to sleep, my girl, so you can wake up tomorrow and enjoy Boxing Day fun."

Jordan led you up the stairs, her hand warm and reassuring on your back, "Besides," She said with a smile, "We can't have our Monkey turning into a zombie tomorrow, now, can we?"

You mumbled a small protest, but it was half-hearted at best. The truth was, you were far too tired to argue properly. Each step you took up the stairs felt heavier, and the idea of the comfy bed was becoming more and more appealing.

Leah trailed behind with Buddy, who was still wide-eyed and squirming with excitement, "This one's determined to stay awake," She said with a small laugh, pressing a kiss to Buddy's cheek, "It's time to sleep now, bubba. Something tells me we're in for a bit of a challenge with the baby."

Once upstairs, you managed to change into your pyjamas with some help from Jordan, the soft fabric instantly adding to your comfort. You climbed under the warm duvet, letting out a small sigh as you nestled into the cozy bed.

"Are you comfy?" Jordan asked, leaning down to flick on the bedside lamp.

"Mhm," You murmured sleepily, clutching your stuffed animal close.

"Good," Jordan replied, leaning in to press a gentle kiss to your forehead, "Good, I'm glad. Get some rest, little one."

Leah peeked into the room a moment later, Buddy now resting her hand on Leah's shoulder in a cozy onesie, her eyes beginning to flutter closed, "All sorted in here?" She asked softly, her gaze warm as she took in the sight of you snuggled up.

"Le... Are all these football shirts yours?" You asked, your curiosity slipping through your sleepiness as your gaze wandered around Leah's childhood bedroom. The walls were adorned with Arsenal and England shirts, each marking a moment in her career.

Leah chuckled, stepping further into her old bedroom, "They are," She said proudly, "Hopefully more to come." She passed Buddy to Jordan for a moment, leaning down to tuck you in properly under the duvet, "Sweet dreams, my girl. We'll see you in the morning."

"Night, Le. Night, Jord," You mumbled, a soft yawn escaping your lips.

"Goodnight, Monkey," Jordan whispered as she turned off the bedside lamp, her voice soothing in the quiet.

Leah lingered for a moment longer, gently adjusting the covers before adding, "We love you."

Just as they turned to leave, you spoke up, your voice small and soft, "Le? Jord?"

They both paused in the doorway, "Yeah?"

"Thank you... For the best Christmas," Your mumbled, half asleep as you could barely keep your eyes open any longer.

Leah's smile widened, her heart swelling at your words, "You're welcome, my girl." She said warmly.

With Buddy now dozing in her arms, Leah glanced at Jordan as they left her childhood bedroom, "Boxing Day's going to be chaos, isn't it?"

Jordan chuckled quietly, nodding, "Absolute chaos, but that's what will make it fun."

jordannobbs posted

liked by bethmead_ and 1,106 others

jordannobbs nothing better than the magic of christmas time and spending it with the ones' closest to you🎅🏼🎄✨

a day full of excitement for both the girls who have been absolutely spoilt rotten. now all tucked up in bed and ready to do it all again tomorrow! 🤭

merry christmas to you all, from the williamson-nobbs family x

View all 133 comments

leahwilliamsonn our two girls 🥹 they really have had the best first christmas 💗

view 11 replies liked by 110 others

katie_mccabe11 merry christmas!! hope the girls have a had a great day x

view 6 replies liked by 12 others

bethmead_ oh buddy's little face with her santa hat on! 🎅🏼❤️

view 10 replies liked by 22 others

jenbeattie merry christmas girls! is monkey still terrified of the man in red and white? 🤣

view 3 replies liked by 19 others

stephcatley spoilt girlies. we love you so much 🥹💗

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© scribblesofagoonerr

[chanranghaeys]

🎥 chemistry read

in which junhui’s casting director gets a little bit too jealous during a chemistry read

pairing: actor!junhui x afab!casting director!reader word count: 2.1k+ genre: hurt, comfort, nsfw rating: r-18. nsfw, mdni! tags: established relationship, JEALOUSY, fluffy ending, reader is mentioned to be smaller than jun, i claim no accuracy over the movie industry processes nsfw warnings: heavy makeout, petting, voyeurism (if you squint?) a/n: mainly inspired by lana condor and noah centineo’s chemistry read for “to all the boys i’ve loved before” and it still lives rent-free in my head because it made me feel so, so many things. also my first nsfw-rated fic oh my. took me a while to make sense of where the story was going but it seemed all roads led to this. credits to @strxwberry-skiess, @diamonddaze01, @haologram, and c for beta reading because this took a village to get out!! thank you bless your souls 🫶

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁ masterlist . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

“Do you believe in the red string of fate?”

“The what?”

“The red string of fate. Have you seriously not heard of it?”

Jun was pulling out all the stops for this one. He had cranked up his charm to the max level evident in the smiles and subtle glances towards her direction. He knew exactly what he was doing.

It was sickening.

You were sitting on the opposite end of the screen in another room. Yes, you chose to go into a separate room today.

“It’s to see the literal on-screen chemistry,” you said. “We can’t have the face-to-face chemistry not translating well on camera.”

Just as well. You’d had enough of them making heart eyes at each other right in front of you anyway.

Today’s schedule was packed with absolutely no time for breaks in between and no time to even sit for a proper meal which you knew you’d only get by the end of the day.

And no time to actually sit down with the actor you were working with—who you were also lucky enough to call your boyfriend.

If you too were an actor, you’d truly believe that Jun was the perfect fit for you. It was something about his carefree presence and easygoing demeanor that turned shy when praises were directed at him no matter how much he deserved it. It was something that made you want to keep rooting for him.

He saw precisely that in you: your unwavering dedication and quiet support, whether in giving him insider tips and tricks to get ahead or letting him run wild with his character at every casting call. It was something he had never seen so strongly in someone during his time as an actor.

“You remind me of my members,” he told you the very first time you had coffee together—as colleagues who were on the verge of becoming something. “They’re my brothers. And I mean that in the best way possible! Not that you’re my brother in the messing around and crazy kind of way,” he quickly added when you raised your eyebrows in question. “I mean in the ‘always being there to stand by your side no matter what’ kind of way.” He sips from his drink nervously. “Don’t ask me to explain please, because I will not stop rambling until I say something even more stupid than I already have.”

You laughed because he’d already rambled more than he usually did. As a casting director, it was your job to match actors to roles that suited them perfectly. But as people, you both could say you did a mighty good job in matching each other’s quirks and freaks.

Professional mode on during work, you two agreed. And you two did very well on that promise.

But bringing her in for the role made it infinitely difficult for you to keep up your end of this deal.

“She’s an old friend of mine! We worked together on one of my very first projects, the small ones I used to tell you about.” He said this when you asked about her. You knew all that already, of course—it was part of your job.

But when the two finally met again in person, you saw it. As a casting director, your professional instincts felt it. You saw it in the way they instantly gravitated to each other, the way their eyes both sparkled, the way their hands naturally connected even after all those years apart.

They were perfect for the role.

And in your head, a small voice continued the thought you didn’t want to touch.

They were perfect for each other.

It was the same voice nagging in your head throughout the duration of the chemistry read. You knew this scene by heart as if you were the one auditioning for the role. You’ve watched how many callbacks and chemistry reads of this scene. And you knew what came next.

After the back-and-forth dialogue was a moment of silence, followed by a lingering gaze, which was sealed with a kiss that escalated to a bed scene. It was a pivotal moment in the film so it had to be perfect.

You’d almost been desensitized to your boyfriend doing such scenes—professional mode on as always. But all that work crumbled the moment you saw their eyes lock onscreen. Slowly, slowly, their faces inched closer together to meet in a kiss.

Your eyes burned. Your fist clenched as you saw his hand fist in her hair. Your jaw tightened when you saw her lips land in the corner of his jaw. And just as he brought her head down on the couch, the director called “Cut!” and you stood up to walk out of the room, not without feeling a stray tear fall down your cheek.

Jun heard the slam of the door and jerked his head toward the sound. That was all it took for him to know what happened.

He wasn't the only one to notice. Jun found the director’s eyes meeting his with a knowing look. “Alright,” the director started. “Well, they don't call it a chemistry read for nothing!” Scattered laughs filled the small room. “Thank you to both of you, that was absolutely amazing.”

The producers took the actress aside for a few words with other managers and staff. Your presence was notably absent.

Before Jun could slip away, he felt a hand on his shoulder. “That was the best read so far,” the director said.

“I know,” and with his eyebrows raised he continued, “I heard the door.”

The director just gave him a lighthearted laugh. “I’m sure we all did. But you know she would agree.”

Jun knew. So while everyone was preoccupied, he glanced at his manager—who already knew what he’d do—and set off to find you. It wasn’t a hard task because he opened the nearest door to the stairwell and found you leaning against the wall.

You met his eyes when you heard the door open, following him and his slight smile until he ended up a short distance beside you with his shoulder against the wall. You were adamant about not wanting him to see you break. You’re a professional, right?

“You know it’s not real,” he starts.

You scoff. “How is it not real when it was right in front of me?”

“Stop that, green isn’t a good color on you.”

“What?” Jarred, you look down at your staple all-black ensemble. “But green’s my favorite color. You told me you liked me in green.”

“Not when it’s green with jealousy.”

It took you two seconds to register what he said. The corner of your mouth twitched involuntarily at the quip. “I am not jealous.”

Jun barely held in a laugh. “Yeah, sure you aren’t.”

“I’m not!”

“Jealous you’re not the one I was kissing?”

“No, I—”

“Jealous you’re not the one I’m holding?” He reaches out and loops his finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer, closer, until you’re both joined at the hip. He shifts to effectively pin you against the wall with his height. You shiver against his touch when his fingertips graze the base of your neck.

“Now, you stop that,” you breathily let out.

“Stop what?” He asks oh so innocently.

“This.”

“No. Not until I prove to you how real this is.” He grabs ahold of your hand, and places it somewhere you did not expect it to go: right over his clothed crotch.

He was wearing loose slacks, a piece that could easily hide things that need to be hidden. But if there was one thing you did know about Jun is that he gets hard quick and easy and it takes him a while to calm down. With your hand on it, you could feel it was anything but hard.

“You know me. You tell me if that read did anything remotely close to what you do to me.”

You open your mouth to speak, but before you can let out a reply, his lips land on yours. His actions catch you off-guard and you instinctively clutch onto his arms and your last bits of sanity. Just as quick, he breaks away and grabs your hand again to return it to where it came from.

“Keep it here, love. I need you to have the proof in your hands.” He brushes a stray hair from your face, and you see your own desire in his eyes reflected back to you. He leans in, but stops short of your lips, leaving you to chase after his touch. The smirk that followed was telling of his thoughts. He was teasing you. God.

You had no more patience for his fun and games. You could feel the pent-up frustration building. Whether from anger or sexual arousal, the line has been blurred irrevocably. With your free hand, you latch onto his hair and pull him in aggressively into an open-mouthed kiss.

It was at this moment that you both decided to think “fuck it” to all modes of professionalism.

He takes advantage of your open mouth and wastes no time diving deeper. You find yourself reciprocating his kisses, pulling him in closer as if recreating the scene you watched him do but making sure it was imprinted with your mark on him.

“I love you.” You hear it whispered, feel it muttered against your lips. “I love you, and only you,” he continues in between kisses. “I love you.”

And there it is: the proof you could feel quite literally in your hand, at the crux between his legs. If you weren’t too in the heat of the moment, you could almost laugh. He decided to prove his loyalty to you by showing that he did not get a boner during the chemistry read. It was your lips and your hands, and yours only, that could do this to him. It was peak Junhui.

But now, you were only aroused beyond comprehension, apparent in the pit of your core and the slick pooling in your panties. You squeeze him through his slacks and he moans lewdly in your mouth, echoing in the empty stairwell bearing witness to this obscenity.

He starts kissing and licking down your neck as you feel his hands snake under your blouse and your bra to squeeze in return, earning a gasp from your swollen mouth. You fist the hand you had in his hair tighter, fully aware that you are indeed messing it up and you will very much get a word from his stylist about this.

Your ringtone effectively silenced all other sounds you both made before things could go any further. You both stopped to look at each other with expressions that were hard to decipher whether in alarm or in exhilaration.

“Hello?”

You hear your director on the other end. “So have you two kissed and made up yet? Not literally, I hope.”

From the corner of your eye, Jun chuckled. You cleared your throat, but your voice was still a pitch too high when you replied, “Yeah, we’re good.”

“Alright, now come on back here. We have dinner prepared for everyone, including the new girl. We still need to talk about her.”

“Got it, boss.”

“Now, okay? We’ve been stalling for you two.”

Ah, shit. “Okay. On the way.” You dropped the call and looked at Jun leaning back against the wall, whose hair he managed to salvage and whose clothes were almost presentable. You couldn’t say the same for your half-open jeans and messed-up lipstick.

Wordlessly, he pulls you in and helps tidy you up—fixing your hair as you put your clothes back together and wipe off the stray lipstick from your face.

“For the record,” he says as he tucks your hair behind your ear, “whatever chemistry you see on the screen is only because I have you in my head to draw inspiration from. There’s a reason why people close their eyes when they kiss. It’s you I see every time.”

You usually love it when Junhui rambles like this. You still do now, but you also recall his “green with jealousy” line and it fills you with embarrassment.

“It’s just…it looked so real. It felt so real. That was the best chemistry read out of all of them.”

“So I was told earlier.”

“It made me feel so many things.” The exasperation was evident in your voice.

He takes your hands this time and holds them tight. “I’ll make you feel even more things, I’m sure. But I will not let you forget that I will make you feel loved the most. Okay?”

You sigh. You love him. “I love you, Jun.”

“I love you, too.” He raises a hand to press a kiss on your knuckles.

“Also remind me to call building security. I must tell them to delete that footage from the stairwell.”

Jun gives you a quiet smile, one full of mischief. “Not without securing a copy first. For me. Please?”

“I thought we were professionals!”

“We could add professional rule-breakers to that title, you know.”

Hmm. You reconsider his request. Yep, you could definitely match his freak. Perfect chemistry.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

post a/n: inbox is open for requests or additions to taglists!

[kakusu-shipping]

He's not going on any lists anywhere but I recently decided to rewatch all the Land Before Time movies for no particular reasons and was against my will reminded of a childhood crush on mine who shaped my very early Childhood type and I just want to share my worst Hear Me Out ever

[fans4wga]

"The studios thought they could handle a strike. They might end up sparking a revolution"

by Mary McNamara

"If you want to start a revolution, tell your workers you’d rather see them lose their homes than offer them fair wages. Then lecture them about how their “unrealistic” demands are “disruptive” to the industry, not to mention disturbing your revels at Versailles, er, Sun Valley.

Honestly, watching the studios turn one strike into two makes you wonder whether any of their executives have ever seen a movie or watched a television show. Scenes of rich overlords sipping Champagne and acting irritated while the crowd howls for bread rarely end well for the Champagne sippers.

This spring, it sometimes seemed like the Hollywood studios represented by the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers were actively itching for a writers’ strike. Speculations about why, exactly, ran the gamut: Perhaps it would save a little money in the short run and show the Writers Guild of America (perceived as cocky after its recent ability to force agents out of the packaging business) who’s boss.

More obviously, it might secure the least costly compromise on issues like residuals payments and transparency about viewership.

But the 20,000 members of the WGA are not the only people who, having had their lives and livelihoods upended by the streaming model, want fair pay and assurances about the use of artificial intelligence, among other sticking points. The 160,000 members of the Screen Actors Guild-American Federation of Television and Radio Artists share many of the writers’ concerns. And recent unforced errors by studio executives, named and anonymous, have suddenly transformed a fight the studios were spoiling for into a public relations war they cannot win.

Even as SAG-AFTRA representatives were seeing a majority of their demands rejected despite a nearly unanimous strike vote, a Deadline story quoted unnamed executives detailing a strategy to bleed striking writers until they come crawling back.

Days later, when an actors’ strike seemed imminent, Disney Chief Executive Bob Iger took time away from the Sun Valley Conference in Idaho not to offer compromise but to lecture. He told CNBC’s David Faber that the unions’ refusal to help out the studios by taking a lesser deal is “very disturbing to me.”

“There’s a level of expectation that they have that is just not realistic,” Iger said. “And they are adding to the set of the challenges that this business is already facing that is, quite frankly, very disruptive.”

If Iger thought his attempt to exec-splain the situation would make actors think twice about walking out, he was very much mistaken. Instead, he handed SAG-AFTRA President Fran Drescher the perfect opportunity for the kind of speech usually shouted atop the barricades.

“We are the victims here,” she said Thursday, marking the start of the actors’ strike. “We are being victimized by a very greedy entity. I am shocked by the way the people that we have been in business with are treating us. I cannot believe it, quite frankly: How far apart we are on so many things. How they plead poverty, that they’re losing money left and right, when giving hundreds of millions of dollars to their CEOs. It is disgusting. Shame on them. They stand on the wrong side of history at this very moment.”

Cue the cascading strings of “Les Mis,” bolstered by images of the most famous people on the planet walking out in solidarity: the cast of “Oppenheimer” leaving the film’s London premiere; the writers and cast of “The X-Files” reuniting on the picket line.

A few days later, Barry Diller, chairman and senior executive of IAC and Expedia Group and a former Hollywood studio chief, suggested that studio executives and top-earning actors take a 25% pay cut to bring a quick end to the strikes and help prevent “the collapse of the entire industry.”

When Diller is telling executives to take a pay cut to avoid destroying their industry, it is no longer a strike, or even two strikes. It is a last-ditch attempt to prevent le déluge.

Yes, during the 2007-08 writers’ strike, picketers yelled noncomplimentary things at executives as they entered their respective lots. (“What you earnin’, Chernin?” was popular at Fox, where Peter Chernin was chairman and chief executive.) But that was before social media made everything more immediate, incendiary and personal. (Even if they have never seen a movie or TV show, one would think that people heading up media companies would understand how media actually work.)

Even at the most heated moments of the last writers’ strike, executives like Chernin and Iger were seen as people who could be reasoned with — in part because most of the executives were running studios, not conglomerations, but mostly because the pay gap between executives and workers, in Hollywood and across the country, had not yet widened to the reprehensible chasm it has since.

Now, the massive eight- and nine-figure salaries of studio heads alongside photos of pitiably small residual checks are paraded across legacy and social media like historical illustrations of monarchs growing fat as their people starve. Proof that, no matter how loudly the studios claim otherwise, there is plenty of money to go around.

Topping that list is Warner Bros. Discovery Chief Executive Davd Zaslav. Having re-named HBO Max just Max and made cuts to the beloved Turner Classic Movies, among other unpopular moves, Zaslav has become a symbol of the cold-hearted, highly compensated executive that the writers and actors are railing against.

The ferocious criticism of individual executives’ salaries has placed Hollywood’s labor conflict at the center of the conversation about growing wealth disparities in the U.S., which stokes, if not causes, much of this country’s political divisions. It also strengthens the solidarity among the WGA and SAG-AFTRA and with other groups, from hotel workers to UPS employees, in the midst of disputes during what’s been called a “hot labor summer.”

Unfortunately, the heightened antagonism between studio executives and union members also appears to leave little room for the kind of one-on-one negotiation that helped end the 2007-08 writers’ strike. Iger’s provocative statement, and the backlash it provoked, would seem to eliminate him as a potential elder statesman who could work with both sides to help broker a deal.

Absent Diller and his “cut your damn salaries” plan, there are few Hollywood figures with the kind of experience, reputation and relationships to fill the vacuum.

At this point, the only real solution has been offered by actor Mark Ruffalo, who recently suggested that workers seize the means of production by getting back into the indie business, which is difficult to imagine and not much help for those working in television.

It’s the AMPTP that needs to heed Iger’s admonishment. At a time when the entertainment industry is going through so much disruption, two strikes is the last thing anyone needs, especially when the solution is so simple. If the studios don’t want a full-blown revolution on their hands, they’d be smart to give members of the WGA and SAG-AFTRA contracts they can live with."

[thesparkling-diamond27]

Dancing Through Life

Fiyero Tigelaar x Reader

Summary: Y/n Upperland of the Upper Uplands, cousin to Galinda Upand, doesn’t have a problem with Fiyero Tigelaar, but that doesnt’t mean that she wants him around. However, after one simple walk with the Winkie Prince, Y/n discovers that he’s not so bad after all.

A/n: hi hi! I’m back with a Fiyero one shot, but that doesn’t mean that I’ve forgotten about the second Bridgerton and I. I’ve written two chapters so far over thanksgiving break and I might try to squeeze in one more chapter or at least half of one before I go back to school. I don’t really have enough time to write when I am at school, so the next time I’ll probably get back to writing during Christmas break which is in a couple weeks. Then I’ll finish the Bridgerton and I and I’m thinking about waiting to finish the Bridgerton and I completely before posting any more chapters, so the ff will probably be finished in December. I wrote this one shot because Wicked has been on my mind 24/7 and I can write whatever comes to mind, but for the Bridgerton and I have to sit down and rewatch Bridgerton episodes so that I can make sure I get all the words exactly right. I hope you guys continue to be patient as I try to finish it :).

I have recently seen the movie Wicked and plan to see 10 million more times because it is SO GOOD. Wicked is basically my whole personality at this point. I was already obsessed with Fiyero, but Jonathan Bailey as Fiyero made my obsession worse (but in a good way :)). And with this obsession comes a Jonathan Bailey Fiyero Tigelaar one shot. I hope you enjoy!! I also have a plan to write another one so stay tuned for that!

It was a beautiful day today, so after class I decided to read at my favorite spot: the bench under the oak tree. I loved it here because it was a peaceful place where I never got disturbed. Or so I thought.

I realized he was near when I heard the sound of boots stepping onto grass. It was only when his shadow blocked the words on the page that I finally looked up.

Fiyero looked down on me with curious eyes, but there was still a charming smile plastered on his face. I tried to hide how his smile affected me, but he must have noticed the change in my demeanor because his smile turned into a smirk.

I thought after my cousin Galinda introduced him to my brother and I earlier today would be the last time I saw him for the day. It appears the Winkie prince had other plans.

“Well what is Miss Upland doing under the oak tree?” He asked.

“Reading.” I held up my book for effect before I continued back to where I left off.

I saw him take a seat beside me on the bench in the corner of my eye.

“It’s Friday.” He continued.

I rolled my eyes. “I know. I can read calendars.” Fiyero chuckled at my blunt and snippy responses. He could clearly tell that I was annoyed by his presence, but he continued to talk anyway.

“It’s Friday and you are here reading under an oak tree. You should be out there having fun.” He used his hands to gesture to all the other students hanging out at the courtyard.

“This is fun to me.”

“School work is fun?”

“Well for your information this book is not for school it’s for me.”

“Well I believe you are filling your head with too many things. You’re thinking too much.”

I rolled my eyes.

“Well that’s not surprising coming from a prince like you.”

“A prince like me?” Fiyero gave a feigned pained expression. “I’m hurt that you would think that way about me.”

“Well I believe that you present yourself as self-absorbed and deeply shallow, but I don’t think you are. I think you use that as a front to hide the fact that you actually care and have thoughts.”

“Excuse me there’s no pretense here. I happen to be genuinely self-absorbed and deeply shallow.”

“Okay.” I said not believing him. I shut my book and stood from the bench. I finished the book I was reading and decided to go search for another one to read.

“Well I guess it was nice talking to you.”

I began to walk back to my room, but he blocked my path.

“Where are you going?”

“Back to my room to find another book.”

“Oh come on. Drop the book for once and have some fun.”

“No.”

I pushed past him and walked away without looking back. I was hoping he would leave me alone after that, but luck was not on my side today.

“Since you’re going back to your room, maybe I can save you the trouble of carrying your book all the way back.”

He grabbed the book from my hand before I could say anything.

“Hey give that back!”

I tried to grab the book back, but he raised the book above my head, so that I couldn’t reach and jumping up was no use. Fiyero was laughing at me struggling, so I sighed in defeat.

“Fine. You can help me carry my singular book up to my room.”

Fiyero was happy with my response because he was smiling from ear to ear. We were now standing nose to nose and I could feel his breath fan across my face. If I looked down I would have perfect access to his lips. Wait what was I thinking? I quickly backed away from him before I did anything stupid. Fiyero smiled down at me and said, “See now that wasn’t so hard now was it? Lead the way princess.”

I would he lying if I said I didn’t get affected by his words. Butterflies filled my stomach and I probably would have melted if I didn’t catch myself. What is wrong with me?

“Princess?”

“Yes princess. It suits you. Princess of the Upper Upperlands.” He said with a dramatic voice.

I was about to retaliate when a certain blondey came to mind.

“Shouldn’t you be calling Galinda princess?” I asked.

“Why would I do that?”

“Because you two are a thing.”

Fiyero chuckled. “I just met her this morning and besides I’m like this with everyone.”

My heart sunk at his words. So he was just treating me like everyone else? But why was I so upset about it? Just a few hours ago I wanted nothing to do with him and now I was disappointed that he’s not treating me differently.

“And if I called her princess then I wouldn’t be able to call you princess. Princess.” He said with a wink.

That definitely lifted my spirits. Sweet Oz! He was making feel a roller coaster of emotions. I could tell there will never be a dull moment with him.

I gave him a small smile but I looked down on the floor to hide it from him. I didn’t want him to notice that I started to warm up to him, but he saw the slight upturn of my lips.

“Well who knew that Miss Upland could smile. It’s a miracle!”

“Oh shut up!” I said, but you could hear the grin in my voice.

“Besides reading, what do you really do for fun?” I looked up at Fiyero and could tell that he truly wanted to know my genuine answer. So it seems that my premonition about him not being self-absorbed and deeply shallow was true.

“Umm…spending time with friends, swimming. Oh there’s a lake in the Upper Upperlands that my family and I go to every summer to cool off and it has such beautiful scenery. Not to mention the nearby ice cream shop…”

I stopped after I realized that I blabbered on. “I’m sorry I sort of got carried away.”

I looked up at Fiyero, but he didn’t seem bothered at all with my tangent. He actually seemed rather interested with what I had to say.

“No continue.” He said with an encouraging smile.

“No I’d rather not.”

I know he wanted to hear more, but he didn’t push me, which I was glad for. I was a little embarrassed with my little outburst.

“Well how about you discover a new way to have fun?” Fiyero said changing the subject.

“How?”

“Come with me to the Ozdust Ballroom tonight. The most swankified place in town.”

“Aren’t we not supposed to be off campus after dark?”

“Yes, but not being allowed to leave after dark makes it more fun!”

“I’ll pass.”

“Where’s your sense of adventure?”

“I left her at home.”

Fiyero paused before he burst into laughter.

“My joke wasn’t that funny.” But I couldn’t help but laugh along with Fiyero.

Fiyero paused again.“Your laugh.”

I took a few moments to recompose myself before asking, “What about my laugh?”

“It’s beautiful.”

I stopped walking and choked on air.

“What?” I asked, but Fiyero ignored me.

“Which way is your room?”

I realized that we have reached the dead end which separated into two hallways.

“This way.” I said as I begin to walk to the right. I walked a little faster to make this walk shorter. I have embarrassed myself way too many times in a such a short amount of time and I just wanted to smash my pillow in my face and scream. The rest of the way was silent until we reached my door.

“Well here we are. My humble abode.” I said. “Thank you for the uh…walk.”

“It was my pleasure. I hope to see you tonight at the Ozdust ballroom Miss Upland.

“Y/n.”

Fiyero smiled at my response.

“Y/n. I hope to see you tonight.”

I opened the door and was about to walk in, but I turned around instead.

“I know you like to put on the facade that you are this Winkie prince who doesn’t have a care in the world, but you’re also human. Yes you might be self-absorbed and shallow, but that’s not all of you and you have thoughts that should be shared. If you take away your crowd of admirers you’ll be left with the real you. If you want to continue with this role in front of everyone then that’s fine…,but you don’t have to be that way with me.”

Fiyero’s expression was unreadable, but I could have sworn I saw flickers of fear and appreciation.

“Y/n…I don’t know what to say.”

His hands fell to his sides and I realized that he still had my book. I slowly inched towards his hand and pulled the book from his grasp. But before I pulled away I took his hand in mine and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“You don’t have to say anything.” I said with a smile.

He nodded and with one last squeeze I pulled away and slowly closed the door shut.

—————————

I laid in my bed, for what seemed like hours, contemplating whether I should go to the Ozdust ballroom or not. I turned to my night stand to see that it’s only been a half hour. I groaned in frustration and covered my face with my pillow. Then I heard a knock at the door. I rose from my bed and opened it to see my brother Ezra.

“You. Me. Ozdust. Tonight.” He said as he entered my room.

“You know about that too?” I said as I shut the door.

“How do you know about it?” He asked curiously.

“I was invited.” I said as I plopped onto my bed. Ezra raised an eyebrow at my words and joined me.

“You were invited?! I wasn’t even invited! Who invited you?”

“So how do you know about it?” I asked avoiding what he asked me.

“I overheard some students talking about it, but don’t avoid the question. Who invited you?”

“Fiyero.”

Ezra’s eyebrows shot up to the ceiling.

“Fiyero Tigelaar of Winkie country? But you hate him.”

“I don’t hate him! Where did you get that impression.”

“When Galinda introduced us to him you didn’t seem to be too pleased with him.”

I thought back to the first impression I had of Fiyero when I first met him.

When he first stood in front of me I took a good look at him and he was exactly what I expected from a Winkie prince. He was dressed to the nines from head to toe. You could tell his blue jacket and pants were made to perfection and the gold accents were sewn with precision. His black polished boots were so shiny that you could even see your own reflection in them. And that was just his clothes.

Fiyero had an aura about him. It was as if he believed he always had to be the center of attention. Reminds me of someone that I know, but I know that Galinda has a heart. It was too soon to tell if he genuinely cares, but by the way he acted and the way the students nearby looked at him, I could already tell that his way of life to everyone else was fake.

Then he approached me later on in the day and I got to know him a little more. I soon realized that he wasn’t all so bad by himself. It was only when he was around everyone else where his walls come up and he acts out his facade.

“I guess I had a change of heart.” I finally answered.

“Uh huh. And how did Fiyero even get the chance to talk to you. The only way that can happen is if you two hung out alone.” Ezra said teasingly as he wiggled his eyebrows. I laughed at his antics.

“Fiyero might have interrupted my peaceful reading time earlier today and I got to know him a little more.”

“Oh?!”

“And before you say anything else there was nothing else to it. He offered to walk me back to my room and that’s when he invited me to the Ozdust ballroom. On our walk back I got to know him a little better and he’s not so bad by himself.”

“Hmm hmm.”

“Nothing else happened!”

“Hey I said nothing!” Ezra said as he lifted his hands to the sides of his face in defense. “But this means that you’re coming!”

“I didn’t say yes.”

“Why-“

“But I didn’t say no either. I’m still thinking about my answer.”

Ezra looped his arm with mine.

“Now I’m forcing you to come because I’m coming and I’m not going to have you sit pathetically in your room.”

“I’m not going to—“

“Ah uh. I won’t take no for an answer. And don’t say you don’t have anything to wear. Your wardrobe is almost as grand and big as Galinda’s.”

Ezra did have a point. I worried about my appearance and wardrobe just as much as Galinda, but I didn’t flaunt it as much as my cousin did.

“Come on.” Ezra grabbed my hands and pulled me up from my bed. He led me to one of my luggage’s that turned into a closet with the push of a button. Ezra pushed the button and pushed me towards my array of dresses.

“Well go on.” He prompted.

I stumbled upon the rack and begin to flip through my choices until I came across a dress that brought a smile to my face.

—————————

Ezra and I missed the boat that Galinda and Fiyero went on, so we arrived at the Ozdust ballroom a little later. I peeked over the corner and was in awe with what I saw.

The entrance of the ballroom had a ginormous staircase which led to the dance floor. At the end of the room was where a band of animals were playing the music. On the ceiling schools of fish were dancing in formation to the beat of the music. That’s when I realized that this ballroom was underwater. That was something I’ve never seen before.

Ezra and I began to walk down the staircase and I began to notice a lot of familiar faces from school.

“Do people come here often?” I asked Ezra. He first attended Shiz last year, so he had a whole year of experience before I came along.

“I would say so. It’s where most people go over the weekend, but this is the first time I’ve ever gone.”

I looked at him shocked. “Really?!”

“Yeah. I’ve never been invited and I’ve always wanted to go, but I never knew how to get here until I overheard those two girls talking today.”

“Well today’s your lucky day!” I said with a smile.

“Indeed it is.” He said with a chuckle. “Oh I see some of my friends I invited over there. Will you be okay on your own?”

“Yeah I will. Galinda should be around here somehere.”

“And Fiyero.” Ezra said with a glint of mischievousness.

“Yeah him too.”

Ezra laughed before he walked over to his two friends. Now I was left alone to fend for myself. I noticed a drink table on the side of the dance floor, so I made my way over there.

I had no idea what was in the glass, but it tasted quite good. I sipped quietly off to the side when I noticed a familiar figure approach me.

“Well if it isn’t Miss Upland.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“Alright then. Princess.”

“Y/n.” I corrected him

“Princess Y/n.”

I figured it would be pointless so I gave up trying to correct him.

“I was almost starting to think you weren’t going to show up. What made you change your mind? Me?”

“Don’t be so full of yourself Fiyero. My brother forced me to come.”

“Aww so I can’t go around telling people that you’re my date tonight?”

I nearly choked on my drink, but I managed to regain my composure.

“Not a chance.”

“What a shame and to think I was going to ask you to dance.”

“I didn’t say no to that.” I said with a teasing smile. Fiyero looked shocked and glad that I was finally playing his game.

“Since you say so, I’ll just take this.”

Fiyero grabbed the drink from my hand and downed the rest of it before setting it on the table.

“Shall we?” He extended out his hand for me to take. I didn’t say anything, but I accepted his hand and he led me to the dance floor.

He began to twirl and whirl me around to the beat of the music and I found a couple laughs slip from my mouth. I haven’t had this much fun in a long time and I couldn’t believe that Fiyero of all people was making that happen.

One by one Galinda, Ezra, and his friends joined us as well. It was great to not care about the trivial things in life and simply dance through life as Fiyero likes to put it.

At one point the band slowed down the tempo of the music to a slower one and Fiyero gave me a knowing look. I looked back at Ezra and he winked at me before walking off the dance floor with his friends. I turned back to Fiyero and grabbed his hand. He gave me a beaming smiling, put his hands on my hips and began to move me across the ballroom floor.

“You know I’ve been thinking about what you said earlier today.” He said.

“About?” But I had an inkling about what he was talking about.

“About me pretending in front of everyone else.” I simply nodded and waited for him to continue.

“I guess I started doing it in order to hide my true depth of character. It was a way for me navigate the superficial social circles and get the chance to meet powerful people. I’ve done it for so long that I forgot what it’s like to just be me, but you were the first person to ever see through that.”

I took a moment to take in his words. It must have been exhausting to keep up that facade for so long. I felt bad for Fiyero. The fact that he felt the need to live like that.

“Well like I said you don’t have to pretend with me. I want to know the real Fiyero Tigelaar. Do you think you can manage to do that?”

“I can for you.”

Under normal circumstances I would have collapsed right then and there there, but that would do either of us no good. Fiyero had just finished telling me something he’s never spoken out loud before and I have to be the support he needs.

He twirled me around once more before pulling me right back into his arms. Then he brought his mouth up to my ear and whispered changing the subject.

“You look beautiful princess. I couldn’t take my eyes off of you tonight. I must say that blue is definitely your color. You are hands down the most beautiful one here.”

“I don’t think so.” I said as I looked down at the floor bashfully.

Fiyero grabbed my chin with his finger and brought my face up to look up at him.

“I beg to differ.” He grabbed a strand of my hair and pulled it back behind my ear. I felt his breath against my ear and shivers traveled down my spine. No boy has ever gave me as much attention as Fiyero has and I was at a loss with what to do. But in a strange way I knew exactly what to do, which is why I was bold enough to try something.

“Can I tell you a secret?” I whispered in his ear.

Fiyero looked confused, but he nodded anyway. I stood up on my tiptoes and went up to his ear, but at the very last second I grabbed his face and connected his lips with mine.

At first he didn’t responded, and I got so scared I got the message wrong, so I almost pulled away. However, he soon reciprocated the kiss and placed one hand firmly on my waist and the other framing my face. The kiss started simple, but then it became more intense. I would have kept on going, but then I remembered where we were.

I pulled away and looked around to see my brother looking at me with a knowing look as if he was saying I told you so. He mouthed, “And you said there was nothing else to it.”

“Shut up.” I mouthed back.

“Do you want to take this somewhere else? Away from the public eye.” Fiyero asked.

I looked up at his blue eyes and thought about being alone with Fiyero. Being able to hold him and kiss him to my hearts desire. I nodded with a smile.

Fiyero smiled back and interlocked our hands. Together the both of us walked out of the Ozdust ballroom without a care in the world and we simply danced through life.

[dontbesoweirdkira]

Hi! I love your interpretation of the yan batfam so much bdnfbfkjfnd I was wonderong how you think Dick and/or Jason would react to a rather compassionate batsis?

She's definitely not on board with their obsession but she can understand where their coming from and gives them like ACTUAL compassion.

Ik you said Dick enjoys having a positive image in front of others most of all his younger sister, so how would he react to her seeing his flaws but still, being kind? Jason strives to be "normal", so much so he spirals sometimes, but like what would knowing/experiencing genuine closeness (not pity or false pretenses) change?

Idk if either of them would redeem their bad habits, but am curious to know what being truly seen and accepted would do to them, especially by someone they care about so much. The bats can have their walls pretty high up after all

A/N: sorry about the late responses. I've been out of it the past few days.

context dick context jay

Okay so when you are dealing with yanderes... you are dealing with extremely unstable people. There are so many ways thus could go but here's just one

Dick

Maybe your compassion makes Dick chill out a bit with his unhealthy tendencies. I think initially he'd still be uncomfortable and bothered that you can see right through him. You can see all his flaws and you don't revere him like the others which is bad. It will still anger him and he'll try manipulating you into loving him like everyone does at first.

A heart to heart with him could work. You acknowledge you know he's crumbling and has really horrible coping mechanisms but that doesn't mean that you don't love him. That you respect him even more because you see just how much passion he puts into everything that he does. It isn't his fault he craves so much validation when he had the upbringing he had but he doesn't have to pretend to be someone he's not to please you. That even if he doesn't smile as much or be selfish sometimes that you won't love him any less. You give him a space to be authentic with you with no judgment.

"erm,,,okay. I'll keep that in mind."

He's a bit taken back by it and doesn't know how to exactly process what you just said. I've mentioned before that he doesn't exactly know how to just be himself because for most of his life he was always being someone that others needed.

He's still on guard for a while. He will dip his toes in the waters by maybe not smiling as much with you or rescheduling your hang out session to go out on a date just to see your reaction. Did you truly mean it when you said he was allowed to be selfish? He was fully expecting you to hate him but seeing just how unbothered you were made him go...oh!

I think this shifts his obsession with you. He's still very much yandere but i think he's much more child-like ? I mean Dick still is obsessed with you and all that jazz but before, he wanted to be the best older brother/father figure. His happiness was dependent on how much you needed and revered him. But now you're becoming his safety blanket for when he's stressed, tired or upset. WIth you he can just lay on your shoulders without speaking and you won't even mind. He can be kind of assholey or dark and you will understand he's just in a mood and what he says never leaves the two of you. You won't take away your compassion or love based on how he acts...the first non-transactional relationship he's ever truly and it's pretty great. He finally feels like a brother and not like he's playing house anymore.

Don't get me wrong, he's still your older brother who gets on your nerves but there's just this mutual appreciation there that lacks with the others.It's clear to the others that he loves you just a bit more than the rest. When it's movie/game nights, he will allow you to sit it out or not tag along to restaurants. He's very protective and defensive over you. He doesn't feel as much of a need to do all that stupid crap with you because if he wanted your time, he could have a peaceful moment on the rooftops with you instead.

Jason

Hmm..i think Jason will just always feel a bit outcasted. There are plenty of people who do care about Jason in the comics but it's hard to relate to someone who's been through what he's been. It's just so unique to him. He knows you don't truly understand what it's like to have spirits of the Lazarus haunting you in your sleep. He knows that you cannot feel the pain of being replaced by someone you're now forced to see as a brother.

When i wrote my last piece a few people took it as me saying the reader found Jason to be odd. Really what it was is that Jason put those thoughts into his own head because he internalized the joke because of his own insecurities. The reader was perfectly fine with Jason being a little off...it made sense as he would've just come back from being dead and is trying to find a bit of normalcy.

It's funny though because while he's trying to be "independent" it's painfully clear he's still very much attached to you and is still unknowingly mimicking you.

I think though if reader sat down with Jason and explained he doesn't need to change or be "normal" because you love him the way he is, maybe he will relax a bit. But i think there would always be voices in Jason's ears telling him he needs to be perfect. My version of jason is around 20-ish year old who is a bit emotionally stunted and disoriented because he's just coming out of the pit. After a few years of being integrated back into the family he'll understand that you actually do love him as a brother and he serves a great purpose even if that purpose doesn't look the same as Dick's.

[corroded-hellfire]

Mad Love - Eddie Munson x Reader

Summary: Eddie goes to visit Dustin at college and meets the Harley Quinn to his Joker at a Halloween party

Note: I had this idea because I needed a good Harley and Joker fix after watching the insane disappointment that was Joker 2.

Warnings: smut, p in v, unprotected (wrap it up), oral, m receiving, alcohol, Harley and Joker are crazy and so is Eddie so what do you expect

Words: 5k

“The party is where?”

“It’s at a house on the edge of campus.”

“A frat house, Dustin. A frat house. How do you even know these guys?”

Dustin sighs and grabs his deerstalker hat.

“I’m tutoring one of the guys who lives there,” he says.

“And this isn’t just some prank?” Eddie asks, a brow raised in skepticism. “Cool frat bro asks his younger, nerdy tutor to come by his Halloween party?”

The shorter man scoffs and shakes his head. 

“Clay is a good guy,” Dustin defends. “You think I wouldn’t have been able to sniff out if he was some douchebag bully by now? My asshole detector is accurate, and you know it.”

“Fine.” Eddie picks his purple blazer up from where he laid it over the back of a chair. He slips his arms into it and adjusts it until it’s comfortable. “The music will probably be shit, though.”

“Look dude,” Dustin says, “you don’t have to come if you don’t want to. You can hang out in my dorm. Or one of the dining halls stays open pretty late. Grab some food.”

“Nope,” Eddie says with a shake of his head. His green-tinted curls sway with the motion. “I drove for hours to see your scrawny ass; I’m not going anywhere. Plus, I love Halloween parties.”

“Exactly how many have you been invited to before?” 

“Hey, I provided great party favors in high school. I was a welcome sight for the most part.”

“Doesn’t mean ‘invited’...” Dustin mumbles as he adjusts his Sherlock Holmes cloak.

Eddie hears him anyway and knocks the hat off his friend’s head before grabbing the bag of makeup he brought to complete his costume.

Eddie’s first thought when he walks into the frat party is that it looks exactly like every college movie he’s ever seen. Red solo cups are in almost every hand, with a dozen or so already lost or discarded on the hardwood floor. The music is awful, as predicted, and despite the chilly October air, the room feels muggy because of all the bodies crammed inside. 

“I don’t know what half these costumes are supposed to be,” Eddie shouts over the thumping bass. 

Dustin shrugs in response and the two of them move farther into the room. The deeper into the crowd they get, and the more he looks around, the happier Eddie becomes that he came. Apparently, most college girls like to go for the “slutty” versions of costumes and Eddie can’t say that he minds one bit. A particular girl in a Princess Leia gold bikini catches his eye, but Dustin grabs his arm and drags him towards the stairs before he can even muster up a witty line to say to her.

“Why the fuck did I dress as a clown?” Eddie murmurs to himself. 

“Eddie!” Dustin shouts. “This is Clay!”

The older man’s immediate reaction is that this guy looks like a much taller and less douchey Jason Carver. He doesn’t exude the same sense of superiority and holier-than-thou-ness that the Hawkins High basketball player did. 

Clay offers his hand to Eddie with a smile.

“Nice to meet you,” he calls above the music. “Dustin has told me a lot about you.”

Eddie shoots Dustin a smirk, to which the faux Sherlock Holmes rolls his eyes. 

“Good to meet you, too,” Eddie says, shaking the man’s hand. 

“Keg’s over there,” Clay says, gesturing towards the front corner of the open area, “bathrooms upstairs. Have fun!”

“Thanks, man,” Dustin replies. 

Eddie feels like his head is on a swivel, looking in every direction at all the girls around him. He’s pretty sure he’s never been around this many girls in his life. 

“Come on, Joker,” Dustin says, patting his friend on the back. “Stop looking over your shoulder like Batman is gonna pop out at any second and let's go get a drink.”

“M’not looking for any man, dude,” Eddie says as they head towards the keg. “Besides, you’re not old enough to drink.”

“Ya know, for a villain, you’re pretty uptight. Especially for one who used to sell drugs.”

Eddie shrugs and swipes up a clean solo cup. He opens his mouth to reply as he takes another step towards the keg, but he’s cut off as he almost bumps into someone also going for the tap. 

“Whoa! Sorry there, Puddin’.”

Dark brown eyes go from his own black sneakers to black boots with red laces, scan up one red and one black pant leg, a long sleeve top with the colors on the opposite sides, and up to the prettiest face Eddie’s ever seen—even if there’s a black mask over her eyes. The cherry on top is the black and red jester hat with the small white cotton balls on the ends. 

“My apologies, darling,” Eddie croons, sketching a bow. “After you.”

The female clown giggles and shrugs her shoulders coyly. 

“Thanks, Mister J.” Her voice is sweet and clear, even above the noise of the party. 

Dustin doesn’t need to be dressed as Sherlock Holmes to figure out how Eddie is looking at this girl. The college freshman sees the way his friend’s eyes follow every move she makes as she fills her cup with beer. 

“I, uh, see a friend from my chem class,” Dustin says, shooting Eddie a sly smirk. “I’ll leave you clowns to it.” 

Eddie nods without really listening, eyes never leaving the red and black dream standing in front of him. Once her cup is filled, she steps aside so her villainous counterpart can take his turn. 

“Where you been hiding on me, huh?” Harley asks before taking a sip of her beer. “I don’t think I’ve seen you before. Then again, I guess the white paint and red lipstick could disguise anyone.”

“I could say the same to you.” Eddie nods to where she’s left a red lipstick stain on the rim of her solo cup. 

“Well, I do have to admit that I’m not quite as outgoing when I’m not hiding behind a pound of makeup and a mask.” 

“And I have to admit, I don’t actually go to school here.” Eddie winces before taking a large gulp from his own cup.

“It’s my lucky night, then!” She grins and reaches out, a red glove tugging on a purple lapel to bring him in closer. “Not here visiting a girlfriend, I hope?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head as he leans into her space. “Visiting a nerdy freshman that I took under my wing last time he was a freshman.”

“Sherlock Holmes?” Harley asks. She tilts her head to the side and Eddie can’t help but smile at how it adorably skews her hat.

“That’s him.”

“That’s so cute!” 

The keg starts to gather a crowd, so the dynamic duo steps out of the way. Unfortunately, it’s closer to a speaker that has the music blaring in their faces.

“Outside?” Harley mouths, hitching her thumb over her shoulder towards the backyard.

Eddie nods and follows his fellow jester out into the crisp autumn night. Partygoers mingle in varying costumes, conversations able to be heard out here even over the thumping bass flooding out from the house. There aren’t any empty chairs or places to sit, so the pair decide to take a lap around the yard.

“What do you study?” Eddie asks as they walk side by side.

“Psychology,” she replies, giving a small dramatic bow that lets the white pom pom balls on the end of her hat shake back and forth.

“Ah,” Eddie says, raising his eyebrows. “Not just Harley Quinn then, we’ve got Dr. Harleen Quinzel herself.” 

“In the flesh,” she says with a cheeky shrug of her shoulders. “Or, well, in the clown suit and makeup, anyway. It’s my last year so I figured it’s time to go all out and have fun. Hence the costume.”

“And I just dress like this regularly,” Eddie jokes, adjusting his purple tie with his free hand. “I’m a natural green head, by the way. None of that dyed shit for me. It’s always so obvious when it’s fake.”

“It goes so well with your deathly pale complexion and naturally thick eyelined eyes,” she says, gesturing to his makeup. 

“Don’t forget the au naturale blood red lips,” Eddie adds, puckering them for emphasis. 

“Who could forget those lips?” Harley’s eyes darken as she speaks, her gaze drifting down to Eddie’s mouth before coming back up to meet his eyes. 

“God, it’s freezing out here,” a girl in a hula skirt and coconut bra complains as she hurries past the clowns with a friend, heading towards the door for the house. 

“I’m comfortable,” Harley says, stopping to do a twirl in between steps. “Have no idea why she could be so chilled! They call me crazy, but at least I know to be covered up outside in Indiana in October. Ah, but I suppose that would ruin the sexiness of her costume, wouldn’t it?”

“Well,” Eddie says, not hiding the fact that he’s looking her up and down. He figures he might as well shoot his shot. “You’re literally covered from head to toe, down to your fingertips, and you managed to be the sexiest one here tonight.”

It takes her a moment to recover from the unexpected compliment. Flirting? Okay, she was absolutely doing it too. But Eddie’s words warm her from within and she can feel the heat seeking its only outlet in this costume: her face. 

“Aha, but word on the street is that you’re crazy too, Mister J.”

“Maybe crazy, but not blind,” Eddie replies. 

She smiles and it makes Eddie’s heart stutter in his chest. 

Before Harley gets a chance to open her mouth and reply, the back door of the frat house busts open and a whole gaggle of drunken guys come spilling out. 

“Stupid boys,” Harley says, shaking her head. She looks back to Eddie and offers her hand, palm up. “Wanna go for a walk?”

“I’d be delighted.” Eddie’s white gloved hand takes her black gloved hand, and the two intertwine their fingers as they head to the side of the frat house, to walk around to the front.

There are still people streaming into the party. Cars are parked up and down the street and some are clearly circling the block to see where they might be able to squeeze in as well. 

Harley leads Eddie across the street and down a side road, away from the chaos of the party. 

“So,” she says once they’re far enough away to hear one another easily, “what’s your real name, Joker?”

“Eddie,” he tells her, giving her hand a soft squeeze. “What about you?”

She tells him her name and Eddie can’t help but think how pretty it is. 

“But tonight I’m Harley, cause she ain’t as shy as I am,” she says.

“I’m pretty sure Eddie is on the same level of outgoing-ness that Joker is, so I’m good with either,” he says, making her laugh. 

The two of them walk towards the heart of campus and come to the point where Eddie actually starts to recognize buildings.

“This is the student center, right?” he asks.

“Yep. The best place to get good on campus, just as a heads up.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. My buddy says he mostly eats in the East dining hall cause it’s right in front of his dorm building,” Eddie explains.

“That’s the East dining hall right there,” Harley says, pointing to a long one-story building to their right.

“Which makes that Haynes Hall.” Eddie gestures to the looming brick building behind it. “That’s where I’m crashing.”

“Is that so?” 

The sultry, suggestive tone goes right to Eddie’s cock. 

“Would you, uh, like to see it?” he asks, tilting his head to the side with a small smile. 

“You know,” she says, leaning forward to rest her hands on the lapels of his purple blazer, “I lived there back when I was a freshman.”

Eddie feels his heart drop. Was he reading the signals wrong? If so, what does it mean that she has her hands on his chest right now?

“I’m curious to see how it changed over these past three years,” she finishes.

The grin on Eddie’s face is as wide as the one the fictional character he’s dressed up as usually sports. 

“Well, let’s not keep you in suspense any longer,” he says.

Harley gladly slips one of her hands into one of Eddie’s and tugs him in the direction of the twelve-story building. As soon as both of their pairs of black shoes are squeaking down the entryway hall down to the elevator, Harley gently pulls her hand away from Eddie’s to yank off the red and black gloves. The Joker follows suit with his own white ones, wanting to be able to hold her hand without any offending material in the way. 

Their fingers lace together as if it’s the most natural thing in the world for the pair of them, and Harley jabs the elevator up button with her thumb. The silver doors glide open and as soon as he’s inside, Eddie is pressing the button to Dustin’s floor with urgency, before switching to the button that closes the elevator doors. 

The moment the doors slide closed behind them, Eddie backs Harley up against the side wall of the elevator and cages her in by resting his arms against the litany of flyers that have been taped up on either side of her head. Her black mask slowly starts to slip down her nose as she gazes up at him. Eddie lowers his head to hers, his mouth only a breath away. A cheerful ding letting them know they’re on the right floor interrupts the almost-kiss.

Her eagerness is clear with the harsh tug she gives Eddie’s arm to lead him out of the elevator and down the thinly carpeted hall. 

“Uh, 802,” Eddie says, scanning the room numbers of every door they pass.

“Oops,” Harley says with a giggle. “We’re going the wrong way.” She does a clumsy attempt at a ballet spin to turn one-eighty degrees and face the other end of the hall. 

As soon as Eddie starts to think that they’re never going to find this goddamn room, they turn a corner and skid to a halt in front of the correct door. Eddie digs the extra key that Dustin gave him out of his pocket and slips it into the lock.

The moment they’re inside, Eddie is fumbling for the light since he doesn’t know the layout and can’t blindly lead her to the bed. The last thing he needs is either of them tripping on some textbook and breaking an arm. 

Dustin’s bed is pushed against the right side of the wall and Eddie already makes a mental note to beg his younger friend’s forgiveness as he’s either disinfecting or burning the sheets later. Speaking of said younger friend…

Eddie doesn’t have the time or inkling to go digging through Dustin’s drawers to find a sock to hang on the doorknob, so he kicks off his sneakers and yanks at his black socks. One gets tossed to the cluttered floor while Eddie opens the dorm door and puts the other on the doorknob. The universal sign that you better come back later—even if this is your room. 

Now Eddie can return his attention to the one place he’d like to keep it tonight: the beautiful jester in front of him. 

“Why don’t you take a seat, Puddin’?” Harley coos, patting the edge of the mattress. 

He sits down where she instructed and is rewarded with the sight of her kneeling on the floor between his spread legs. Eddie drops one of Dustin’s pillows down on the floor—since the bedding is all going to need to be taken care of anyway—and she gives the man above her a grateful smile.

Bare hands work at the belt holding the purple pants up and Eddie can’t keep his eyes off of them. He admires how soft and smooth they look as her fingers nimbly work. She then pops open his fly and drags down the zipper. Eddie lifts his hips and together the two of them push the pants and his boxers down his thighs. His cock springs free, already hard and begging to be touched. Her eyes immediately land on the precum beading at the head and she licks over her lips eagerly. A soft hum from the back of her throat is the only warning Eddie gets before she takes his length in her hand and immediately begins licking up the side of his shaft. 

Eddie’s head drops back with a low groan. One hand falls to the mattress beside him while the other gently rests on the crown of her jester hat. When she takes the head of his cock in her mouth, Eddie clenches the comforter that his hand is resting on in his fist.

“Fuck,” Eddie moans. He tilts his chin forward to look down at the sexy supervillain sucking his dick. The bright red lipstick leaves a ring around Eddie’s cock that he never wants to wash off. He watches her go deeper and deeper each time, the crimson smears getting closer to the dark patch of hair at his base. 

When her head begins to pick up speed, bobbing up and down, Eddie knows he needs to stop her before the real fun begins. Gently, he presses against her shoulder, which she is able to interpret and pulls her mouth off his cock with a pop. She looks up at him and her black eye makeup has smeared, smudging beneath her eyes and dark tear trails carving a path down the white face paint—all with the mask still in place. 

“You’re too good at that,” Eddie tells her with a breathy chuckle.

“Good thing you stopped me, or I would’ve just kept going,” she says, laying her head down on his thighs and looking up at him with eyes shiny from tears. “And where would the fun be in that?”

“Exactly, darling.” 

Eddie helps her up from the floor and she takes a seat on the bed next to him. She watches his every motion as he stands to kick his pants and boxers all the way off. Once he’s finished, she turns so her back is facing him.

“Would you mind unzipping me?” she asks.

“Not one bit.” Eddie leans in and presses a kiss to the side of her neck, which causes a shiver to go down her spine as Eddie drags the pull tab in that same direction. 

Harley stands and kicks her boots off before shimmying the bodysuit costume down her frame. Eddie’s eyes make sure to capture every last detail of the reveal. With every new area of skin that’s exposed, it becomes his new favorite. The black lace bra and red lace panties make him chuckle.

“Even in the right colors down to that sinful underwear,” he remarks. 

“Thought it was only fitting,” she says with the shrug of one shoulder. She kneels down on the bed and leans forward, working on popping open the buttons, first, on the yellow vest beneath the blazer, and then the mint green shirt below that. “Didn’t think that anyone was actually gonna see me like this tonight, so that makes for a nice surprise.” 

“Didn’t think you’d be hooking up with someone with clown makeup on?” Eddie teases as he shrugs out of all his top layers.

“I could ask you the same question, Mister J.”

“Mm,” Eddie hums as he slips his arm around her waist and lowers her down to the mattress. “So we’ll be naked, just clowns from the neck up.”

“You’re already naked,” Harley muses, her eyes running up and down his bare form as he crawls on top of her. “Least you can do is make it even.”

A sound suspiciously close to a growl rumbles from Eddie’s throat before he speaks.

“Gladly.”

She arches her back, and Eddie counts his blessings when he’s able to unhook her bra fairly easily. He helps her get it off her arms and throw it somewhere in the dorm to be found later. Next, she lifts her hips off the mattress and Eddie is able to free her of her panties in one fell swoop. 

Calloused fingers run up the outside of soft thighs before he lets them trail down to the part most aching for his touch.

Harley feels on edge—his hand is so close and he can’t move it fast enough. A desperate whimper tumbles from her lips and Eddie can’t help but find it adorably endearing. 

“P-Please, Eddie,” she whines. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” Eddie croons. His fingers travel down farther, and she automatically drops her legs open wider for him. A thick middle finger slides down and up her slit. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

“Want you so bad,” is the only thing she can get out, through a hoarse wispy voice. 

“Is my Harley Quinn all needy? Hmm?” Eddie’s voice is soft and slow as his middle finger slides up and presses against her clit. 

“Yes!” Her hands grip at Eddie’s upper arms and her eyes practically roll back in her head as he rubs tight circles against her sensitive nub. “Yes, Puddin’. Need you so bad.” 

“Tell me what you need,” Eddie purrs.

“You,” Harley whimpers. “Your cock.”

“Whatever my partner in crime wants.” Eddie smirks as he positions his body on top of hers and guides his cock to her entrance. He moves slowly and she feels every inch as he pushes inside of her. 

“Feels so good,” she whimpers, reaching up to hold on to some part of him.

“Tell me how good, baby.”

“M’so full,” she whines, hands moving higher so her fingers tangle in his green-tinted locks. “You’re so fucking big.”

Eddie’s hips pick up the pace, building a steady rhythm that makes the mattress below them squeak. Neither can hear over the sound of their labored breathing, though. 

Using her grip on his hair, Harley pulls Eddie’s face down to hers and smashes their mouths together. Their lips meld together and tongues dance with one another, only adding to the intense pleasure. A particularly hard thrust of Eddie’s hips has them moaning into one another’s mouths. When the kiss breaks, Eddie buries his head into her neck while Harley’s breaths become even more shallow.

“Jesus Christ, you’re so fucking tight,” he growls against her skin. “Feels goddamn perfect.”

Fingers tighten in Eddie’s hair in response, and the man isn’t able to hold back a guttural groan when she gives a small tug on the strands. 

“Someone likes his hair being pulled,” Harley murmurs.

Eddie pulls back and looks down at her. He opens his mouth to respond but breaks into strangled laughter before any words can come out.

“W-What?” she asks.

“I had some witty retort questioning if you like your hair pulled, but I can’t even see your hair because of that adorable fucking hat.”

Harley lets out a soft giggle and shakes her head from side to side so the white pom poms on the end of the sides wiggle all over the place.

“How are you so goddamn sexy and insanely cute at the same time?” Eddie asks, a breathy laugh of his own coming out as his hips keep up their punishing pace. 

“Mm, well, insane comes with the territory.” She grins and Eddie can’t help but dive back in to press his lips to her again. The red lipstick each of them is wearing smears to combine a shade of red that’s a compromise of both hues. 

“Can I take your mask off?” Eddie asks against her lips.

“Please.”

Eddie balances himself hovering over her body before he reaches up with one hand and takes the small black mask off her face. He gently tosses it to land on top of the costume in a heap on the floor before focusing on her face. It’s still covered in white makeup with black tear tracks, but he can see much more clearly what she looks like underneath the whole Harley Quinn getup and it makes him smile. 

“Beautiful,” he says, not even realizing he said it aloud at first. 

“Not so bad yourself, gorgeous,” Harley says, giving him a wink. 

A minor tilt of Eddie’s hips has his cock hitting just the right spot to make her see stars. A mix between a gasp and a moan erupts from her throat as her hands move to grab Eddie’s upper arms. Her fingers curl into his triceps and her eyes fall shut at the immense pleasure of Eddie’s cock repeatedly brushing that perfect spot.

“Holy shit,” she gasps. 

“Good, baby?” Eddie coos.

“Uh huh,” she mumbles, forehead crinkling as her mouth falls open in awe. “God, right there, Eddie.”

He doesn’t need to be told twice. Eddie drills his hips into hers, his eyes boring down at hers as she blinks them open.

Face still scrunched up in ecstasy, Harley stares right back up at Eddie. The combination of him hitting that spot over and over again mixed with the intimacy of the intense eye contact creates a familiar tightening in her lower abdomen.

“Eddie, I’m gonna—fuck, I’m gonna come.”

“That’s it,” Eddie rasps. “Come on my cock, sweetheart.” He reaches down and rubs her clit in time with his thrusts into her. 

The friction is just what she needs to send her over the edge. Her back arches off the back, pressing her breasts into Eddie’s chest, and she lets out the most beautiful moans that Eddie’s ever heard as the wave of pleasure crashes over her. 

The clenching of her already tight pussy around Eddie’s cock has him spilling into her seconds later. His thrusts are sloppy and desperate, but it sends a warm pleasant feeling over Harley as she comes down from her high. 

Once Eddie is spent, he rests his forehead against hers. The face paint on both of them has smeared and smudged, now runny from sweat. They just gaze at one another as they attempt to catch their breaths.

“God, that was good.” She finally breaks the silence. 

“So fucking good,” Eddie agrees. He leans down and presses another kiss to her lips before rolling to the side and plopping down next to her. 

There’s a silence between them that has the potential to turn awkward, but they turn their heads to look at one another at the same time, and they both burst out in laughter.

“Do I look as funny as you do?” Harley asks, reaching up and smearing some of the white paint on his cheek.

“I’m afraid so,” Eddie replies with a nod. 

“What a couple of clowns we are.”

Eddie snorts a laugh and brings his hands up to cover his face. When he pulls them away, they’re covered in white and red smears. Harley goes to lift her own hands to her face but stops halfway and lets out a soft squeal that turns into laughter.

“What? What is it?” Eddie asks.

She can’t stop laughing, so she turns her hands to show they’re now green from the coloring in his hair. 

“Oh damn,” Eddie says, starting to laugh himself. “I’d say we’re in need of a shower.”

Harley turns on her side to face him and props her head up on her elbow.

“The bathrooms in this dorm aren’t co-ed,” she says. “Buuuut I also know that no one really gives a shit.”

“Dr. Quinzel, are you proposing we shower together?” He widens his eyes in fake shock. 

“As long as you lend me something to wear afterwards, Puddin,” she croons, leaning in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can’t exactly go around looking like this.”

“Looks good to me,” Eddie says with a smirk, which earns him a playful swat on the chest. “Even with the hat.”

“Oh my God, I can’t believe I’m still wearing this thing,” she says with a laugh.

“May I?” Eddie gestures towards the jester cap.

“Go for it.”

Eddie undoes the strap that was holding the black and red hat in place and gently removes it from her head. He can’t help but give a goofy grin now that he sees every part of her—except the clear skin of her face. 

“Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, Mister J.”

After both clowns have shed their makeup and are squeaky clean, Eddie lends her an oversized hoodie and she pulls her panties back on. Eddie changes into a pair of pajamas he packed with him. 

He takes a step over to the bed now that he’s freshly dressed and winces when he sees the sheets. The navy-colored fabric is smeared with white face paint, red lipstick, and black eye makeup—not to mention other spots and stains that Eddie doesn’t even want to think about Dustin finding. 

He makes quick work of yanking all the bedding off and shoving it into Dustin’s hamper. Clean? Burn? Both? Eddie’s not sure, but he’s leaning towards the fiery option. If the situations were reversed, Eddie would not want to be sleeping on these sheets ever again. 

“Say, partner in crime.” Eddie sidles up next to her and wraps his arm around her waist. “Want to destroy some property with me? Quick question though…is it only arson if it’s a building or does it count for lighting anything ablaze?”

“We can just ask the cops when they arrest us,” she says with a shrug. “I’m sure they’ll know. Or maybe it’ll be Batman who gets us!”

The response makes Eddie chuckle. He leans in, cupping her clean, clear face in both hands and presses his lips against hers. The two of them get caught in the moment, mouths moving fervently, when there’s a voice outside the dorm door.

“Oh, you’ve got to be shitting me. This asshole doesn’t get laid the entirety of high school, but now it happens in my room? God damn it, Munson. Stranded out in the hallway as Sherlock fucking Holmes. Just perfect.”

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW Reaction to You Leading Them On

Warnings: 18+, Implied Smut, Dark! Modern Warfare, Horny! Modern Warfare, Possessive Behaviour, Territorial Behaviour, Entitled Behaviour, Threatening Behaviour, Incel-Coded! Modern Warfare, Dub-Con Themes, Implied Age Gap (Price), Physical Restraining, Kidnapping, Breaking and Entering, Reader Being Held Hostage, Abuse of Physical Power, Slut Shaming, Pet Names, Profanity, No Pronouns Used For Reader Except You.

Ghost

You’d only just noticed that Ghost stood at the front door of his apartment as if he were guarding it. Perhaps from your attempts at leaving.

You’d tried apologising to him for ‘stringing him along’ as long as you had, but you genuinely believed the two of you were just being friendly, bantering. Nothing more to it.

Obviously, Simon hadn’t seen it that way. You know that now as you watch his hand slip down the front of his sweatpants, palming his erection through them.

“Why don’cha come and show me how sorry you are with that pretty little mouth of yours.” He’s so monotone when he says it that you think he’s joking. His face tells you otherwise.

Of course, you’re speechless. But Simon cares little for your bewilderment. He looks down at you, his eyes narrowing. When you don’t come to him, he steps towards you.

“You know,” he says, coming closer. You step back. “Y’hear about pretty little things like you wandering into a man’s trap. Gettin’ ravaged.”

He’s before you, now, all but chest-to-chest. His eyes are black. Gone is the man you’ve been playfully flirting with these last few months; who you’d tried to push over the edge with your accidental grazes, your unintentional whines, the batting of your eyelashes.

None of that will save you now. His voice carries the weight of a dark star.

“How do you know this isn’t exactly where I want you.”

König

König was eerily silent upon your rejection.

You both stood in his kitchen where, after watching you cook, his heart swelling beyond reason and fathom, König had blurted out that he liked you. A lot.

Unfortunately, you couldn’t return those feelings, only viewing König as a good friend at most.

And now, he stands sentinel over a reaction you can’t possibly predict. Especially as his eyes, usually crinkled with a smile and laughter, seem lighter than usual, as if drained of all their warmth.

“I see,” is all König says. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair. He leans back against the kitchen counter, one hand gripping its rounded edge while the other remains free.

“I suppose I only have one option, then.”

König stands to his full height, approaching you, invading your personal space. He’s almost chest-to-chest with you, the bulk of his frame, the size of his biceps becoming glaringly obvious to you now as his shirt struggles to contain him, pulled taut over his musculature.

“I’ll just have to destroy you for any other man you try to whore around with.”

The way in which he says it suggests indifference; as if this is something he’s done or thought about a million times before. He presses you into the counter, hands coming to rest either side of you. He bears down on you, jaw clenched and teeth gritted behind straight lips.

“Then you’ll have no choice but to come limping back to me.”

Soap

“Oh aye, Bonnie? You’re gonna drop me, just like that?”

The look Johnny gives you is one of incredulous disbelief. Yet, in some way, you feel that he already knew you weren’t dedicated to the idea of a relationship with him. Even after all the time you’d spent together, the many nights you’d enjoyed sleeping over at his apartment, the many treats you’d baked for him; these were all things one could easily mistake for friendship.

You’d considered that perhaps tonight hadn’t been the best time to let him down, regardless of how gently you did it, considering it was your weekly movie night and it was his turn to host. 

You wish you’d listened to your inner self. Especially now as Johnny watches you, his eyes silver and sharp like a wolf’s. Without warning, he pounces on you, taking your wrists and planting them into the sofa cushions.

He lies atop you, heavy. Unmoving. Struggling only makes him grunt, a spark flashing in his eye.

“Tell you what,” he proposes. “If y’can still remember yer name by the time I’m through with you,” he presses his hips against yours. You gasp at the feeling of something heavy and pointed catching you. 

“We’ll see how willing y’are to try’n lead me astray.”

Valeria

“I see how it is,” she sighs, arms crossed over her front. She has you tied to a chair in her office, mouth gagged as you try to plead with her through your tears, your eyes. “You thought you could have your cake and eat it too. Thought you could have me while trying to fuck every other bitch that crosses your path.”

You’d dared to try and break things off with Valeria – ‘things’ referring to the one-sided pursual of your love by a certain cartel mommy. But alas, your efforts to repel her had only strengthened her resolve – her need – to have you.

“I’ve dealt with your type before,” she says, bringing her face down to your level. You swear her eyes are black, devoid of the slivers of humanity she still possesses – somewhere. The wrinkle in her nose forecasts disgust, an emotion you know first-hand does not bode well with Valeria.

“I thought you were different. Thought you’d know to shut up and take what’s handed to you – especially when you’ve worked yourself so hard to get it.” Valeria’s hand comes down between your legs, her fingers wrapping around the meat of your thigh. Gripping. Tight.

“Maybe the you I’m looking for is buried in there somewhere.” You can taste the venom in her voice as her scrutinising gaze roves over your bound form. She brings her mouth to your ear, intentional and without haste.

“And all I need to do is fuck it out of you.”

Price

You considered for a moment that John hadn’t actually heard you. What, with his lax demeanour and total lack of acknowledgement of your rejection.

Of course, you were glad he wasn't reacting poorly, but to see him not reacting at all worried you.

“I could have you hidden away somewhere–” Price starts, lighting his cigar and not even looking at you, “–where you’d be for my eyes only.”

The fact that he says it so casually almost has you believing that you’ve misheard him. You blink, wait for him to prove you wrong

Much to your shock, he does nothing to quell your growing anxiety. 

“Bet you’d like that – having the attention of an older man. ‘Specially since you’ve worked so hard to get it.”

Now, he looks at you, with eyes hard and sharp as diamond, half-lidded, a glare that could cut glass.

“Sitting on my lap, wearing those tight little shorts around me. Bet you wanted this to happen, didn’t’ya.”

When you don’t respond, too shocked to even conjure a response that could cover even a fraction of what John had said, he spoke for you.

“Well, Love, got anything to say for yourself?”

He didn’t give you time to answer. He took his legs off his desk and stood, staring at you.

“Better say it now since y’won’t be able to say much by the time I’m done with you.”

Horangi

“I just can’t believe you thought this would end well for you.” Hong-Jin paces before you as you sit on the edge of your bed, a hostage in your own home. Clearly, your rejection of his proposal to become his partner hadn’t ended well, hence the lock on your front door now lay broken, your security system disarmed.

“Especially after all I’ve spent on you, after all I’ve done to you – for you.”

His eyes never left you, staring you down. You tried not to shake, tried not to make a run for the door that, while open and tantalising in its beckoning for your escape, a steel model of a man patrolled it, patrolled you. Had you prisoner.

He stops before you, stands just inches from where your knees are jittering. His hands come down to grip them, giving them a squeeze. If it’s meant to be comforting, his intentions are lost in translation.

“Maybe I wasn’t clear enough with you,” he says. Offers you an out. “Maybe I’ve given you too much freedom.”

At that, he sinks to his knees before you and, without warning, parts your legs. You yelp, trying to pull away, but he keeps you tethered to the spot. His hands shoot to the top of your thighs and you can feel his fingers hooking over the sides of your bed shorts.

You try to reason with him, try to tell him you’ll do whatever he wants, so long as he doesn’t hurt you.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay. Only want to show you–” he pulls the sides of your shorts down– “what you’re missing.”

Alejandro

The instigator of such a cold reception from Alejandro had been your refusal of a date with him. One which, unbeknownst to you, he’d been planning and psyching himself up for for the past week.

“I see.” Alejandro’s face was stern, thunder clouds rolling over him, making his features dark and pointed. The onset of a storm.

You didn’t know what to say, what to do, as Alejandro stood by your front door, dressed as if he was prepared to take you out right now.

You could see his jaw clench, his eye twitch.

“Is there someone else?” he asks.

You know that getting rejected solely because someone favours another over you is bad, but being rejected without competition is worse. You swallow, unsure of which option will infuriate Alejandro more. When you fail to answer, he sighs.

“You know, I always thought you were smarter than this, (Y/N).” His voice is low and intentional, like a plane flying too close to the ground. You look up, only to find him staring down at you, taking up all the space of your doorway with his hand perched on top of it like it’s nothing.

“But maybe I just have to teach you.”

You try to speak up for yourself, try to ask Alejandro what he’s playing at, but he shushes you. Steps into your home.

“I’ll have you crawling back to me by the night’s end, Cariño.” His words carry a weight that roots you in place. “I promise you that.”

Rodolfo

“Oh, I know,” he says with all the certainty in the world. You’re in his apartment, coming to break the news to him that you can’t accept his boyfriend proposal; the one he’d sent you in a five-page-long love letter.

You blink, befuddled. “You…you know?” Your brow raises. “You’re taking this a lot better than I thought you would.”

Rudy gives a hum, a smiling one. He puts his hands in his pockets, leans against the wall behind him.

“That’s because I know you don’t mean it.” He gives you little time to contemplate his statement before he’s descending upon you like a solar eclipse. “I just needed an excuse to get you somewhere we wouldn’t be…” He searches for the right word. “Disturbed.”

Strange, considering how he was disturbing you right now. He went on.

“I mean, how else was I going to get you here? If I’d just text you, you could shoot me down without coming anywhere near me. But now,” he’s close enough that his hands rest on your arms when he reaches for you, pulling him closer to him. You stumble on uncertain legs.

His grip is soft but you feel trapped, even if Rudy is one of the few people you’d feel comfortable being trapped with.

“Now,” he says, voice low. He pulls you into his chest, hard with years of training.

“I can show you how well I can please you.”

Graves

Graves is far more used to being the player, not the played. So when he discovered that you were, in fact, engaging in what could be construed as promiscuous behaviour with him without the intention of falling for his charms, he went silent. His stare hardened.

He’d never admit it, but he’d actually grown to like you in the time you’d been together. A lot.

“So that’s it?” he says. His voice, usually rounded with his southern charm and honeyed words, strikes you like an arrow, ice and sharp. “We have a good thing goin’ and you’re just gonna throw it all away?”

You’d tried to explain to him that no, that wasn’t what you meant when you’d suggested some time apart. You just wanted to explore other options, is all.

He gives a whiplash, humourless laugh.

“Can tell you’re lyin’ from a mile away. I know you want me, need me.”

When you roll your eyes, ready to back out of the conversation altogether, he’s on you, closing the gap between you and gripping you by your shoulders. He presses you against the wall.

“Fight it all you want, but we both know you’re just gonna come crawlin’ back, so why don’t I make this easy for ya.” His breath is hot against your cheeks, a bull on the prowl. His fingers dig into your shoulders and he gives you an impish smile. One that seems to substitute something much more insidious.

“I’ll have you begging me to fuck you by the end of the night,” he promises. “One way or another, whether you like it or not, m’gonna make you all mine.”

Gaz

Gaz has played the nice guy for far too long. This, he realises as he watches someone try to chat you up from across the bar, only to make the fatal mistake he himself had made: leaving you unattended.

Gaz wasted no time. He slithered through the crowded bar to you, taking your wrist in his hand on his way. He dragged you to a small room, dark and out of the way. He locked the door behind him.

“What was all that about, then.”

He faces away from you, but even through the dim light of the one, flickering light bulb above you, you could see his shoulders heaving, his hands clenched into fists as he awaits your response.

A friend, just some guy – it doesn’t matter. Gaz turns and bears down on you, backing you against the wall. Your hands fly up to his chest to try and quell him, to put some distance between the two of you. His heart pounds and so does yours, albeit for different reasons.

“You’re mine,” he says. He pens you in, his form broad and sculpted by horrors unknown. A hand comes to take your chin between its fingers, jerking your gaze to meet his. “Have I not worked hard enough to be able to have you yet.”

His voice cracks, though he shows no signs of crying. No, Instead he presses his front to yours. Something catches your thigh and you gasp.

“Maybe you just need reminding,” he tells you, “of how much I’ve done for you.” He rolls his hips against you, his hands coming to bolt themselves on the wall behind you, caging you.

“How much I can do.”

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mirror mirror — jung wooyoung

in which wooyoung hates it when you call yourself anything less than beautiful.

bf!jung wooyoung x fem!reader. genre. established relationship. fluff. slight angst. smut. warnings. reader wears a dress, reader is a little insecure, explicit sexual content mdni, mirror sex, fingering, praise, soft dom!wooyoung, overstimulation, nicknames (baby, babe, babygirl, pretty girl). wc. 1.3k. rating. mature.

lilo’s notes. i’ll try to post as much as i can in the next few days as i likely won’t be online much for the two weeks after the next one!!

listening to. aphrodite by rini

masterlist.

you came home from a long day out with your friends, shopping and whatnot. as soon as you stepped through the front door of the small apartment you shared with your boyfriend, he felt himself get dragged from the couch to the bedroom, pushed down to sit on the bed while you set some bags down in the walk-in closet.

“what’re you doing, baby?” he’d laughed, leaning back with his palms planted on the mattress.

“let me show you the clothes i got!” even though he’d been in the middle of watching a movie, he couldn’t say no to the excited look on your face.

you closed the door of the walk-in closet to change. he thought it was cute, really—he’d seen you naked many times yet you were still too shy to change in front of him. each time you stepped out of the closet you were wearing something new, some skirts, some hoodies. you’d twirl around, he’d tell you how beautiful he thought you were, and you’d return to the closet to change into another thing, face warm from his praises.

even though he gave different opinions on each clothing item, wooyoung knew he’d find you attractive no matter what you wore.

one time, you let him style you when neither of you had places to be due to a storm. his laugher echoed through the apartment as you wore exactly what he chose. a blue shark onesie he’d found stuffed into a corner of your side of the closet. it was silly and you hadn’t worn it in years, but he still thought you were the cutest thing he’d laid his eyes on.

the final thing you showed him was a little babydoll dress, the silky fabric a light pink. the hem was lined with little white ruffles and reached between the middle of your thighs and your hips. clearly meant to be used as a nightgown, the skirt flowed smoothly as you twirled around.

wooyoung stared, in awe by your figure. his tongue darted out to lick his suddenly dry lips, mouth opening to say something before closing again. he couldn’t believe he was so lucky to see you like this.

you, however, mistook his lack of words, hesitantly turning around to look at the mirror across from the bed with a frown, fiddling with the hem of the dress nervously.

“i think… i think it’s a nice dress.” your voice was quiet, meek, the corners of your lips tugged into a light frown. “it probably would look better on anyone else, though…”

wooyoung snapped out if his trance at that, brows furrowing as he looked at your face through the mirror before he came to the realisation that you’re second guessing yourself because of him.

“that’s not true, i think you look great in it. more than great, even,” he was quick to reassure you but you didn’t respond, only glancing at his reflection for a second before looking away with flushed cheeks. “come here, baby.”

his hands reached out to your hips, turning you to face him and pulling you to stand between his spread knees. his hands gave your hips a gentle squeeze, thumbs caressing the soft fabric as he looked up at you with the most tender of eyes.

“you’re the most beautiful girl in the world, you know,” he whispered, placing a quick kiss to the tiny bow between your breasts, “i don’t want you to ever think otherwise, okay?”

“but-“

“no buts.” he cut you off firmly, eyebrows furrowed before his features softened again. a wave of silence washed over the two of you, butterflies raging in your stomach with each caress of his hands. his eyes diverted from yours for a moment, an idea flashing in his mind as he caught sight of the mirror before looking back up at you.

“let me show you how pretty you are to me, baby.”

without waiting for you to respond, he turned you around once more and dragged you onto his lap. his grey sweatpants felt warm beneath your bare legs, the nightgown barely covering you as you leaned to rest your back against his firm chest. a shudder nearly ran through your body as he pressed tender kisses to your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder, eyes licking with your through the mirror.

“so lovely and all for me,” he muttered against your ear lowly, holding you in place with his hands on your thigh. “i wanted to rip this dress off you as soon as you walked through the door. though i’m sure you knew that, hm?”

one of his hands moved up, pinching the ruffles between his fingers and lifting the skirt to reveal you hadn’t put on panties when you changed into this. you opened your mouth to say something but he beat you to it, chuckling at how flustered you looked.

“it’s okay, babe, no need to be embarrassed.” he pressed a kiss behind your ear, lingering for a moment before reconnecting his gaze with yours. more hushed words left his plush lips but you had a hard time comprehending them, distracted by how one hand travelled upwards to squeeze one of your breasts through the dress while the other hooked your legs on either side of his.

before you knew it, you were a whimpering mess on his lap. he’d nudged the thin strap if the dress from your shoulders, letting it pool at your waist. you felt him everywhere. one hand between your legs and the other alternating between squeezing your breasts and reading your nipples. his lips busied themselves with whispering dirty praised against your ear, pausing to kiss, bite and suck at your neck or shoulders.

you whined his name as a second finger slipped into you, pushing in until his second knuckle, prodding at that spot that had you seeing stars, before pulling out again just to repeat it over and over again. his thumb circled your swollen clit steadily, wet sounds made by his fingers rubbing against your slick.

and when you finished in five minutes, you gasped and cried out softly, fingers digging into the comforter of your bed as you back arched off his chest. his fingers pulled out but he continued rubbing slow circles on your clit, helping you ride out your orgasm.

“there you go, babygirl,” a kiss against your temple and another below your jaw, “look at yourself.”

his hand left your breast to take ahold of your chin, directing you to face the mirror. your hair was dishevelled and eyes barely open, chest heaving with heavy breaths, nipples erect. your thighs twitched with each circle of his middle and ring fingers. you couldn’t see your core, covered by his hand, but the soft lamp light made the slick smeared at the top of your inner thighs glisten with each twitch. beautiful.

“see how pretty you are now?” he cooed softly, finding the way you twitch from the gentle overstimulation adorable. “who’s my pretty girl, hm? say it, baby.”

“i-i am.”

“that’s right,” you watched his reflection nod before both his hands moved to your waist, pulling the nightgown over your head and tossing aside. a kiss between your shoulders, just below the base if your neck. “so you know you’re pretty now?”

you respond with a nod of your own.

“that’s my good girl. now,” he lifted you off his lap and a moment later you were placed on the bed as he kneeled between your legs, nudging your shoulder to lay down, winking. “lay back and relax, baby, i’m not done with you yet.”

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Be mine

Alpha! Natasha Romanoff x Omega!FemReader

Word count: 5.1k

Summary: Natasha may have lost some hoodies, but she gained a mate and in her eyes, that's a trade she'd be willing to make any day. Based on the above prompt, but with some twists ;)

Warning: NSFW, 18+, A/B/O universe, mutual pining, lesbian? relationship, heavy petting (clothed sex), oral sex (R receiving), penetrative sex, a tiny bit of breeding kink, mating, claiming, knotting. You'll have to forgive me if this isn't your typical A/B/O fic, but I haven't read many of those and I don't know much about the universe itself, so this may not be super accurate, but I did my best. I hope you guys will enjoy it none the less.

As soon as she entered the room, you could smell her. It was always the way with Alphas, their strong, musky scent was unmistakable, but with hers came a sense of relief. Natasha made you feel safe, made you feel protected, without being overbearing. You could always feel when she was looking at you and you knew she kept track in her head. She knew if and when you ate, knew if you drank water, and when she didn’t deem it enough, she would silently bring you some. She never forced you to drink it, never even said a word, she would just leave it in front of you and walk away. She also knew damn well that you drank it. She also knew that sometimes you were stubborn, but most times you were just anxious and she stayed with you during long nights, watching a movie, knowing that her presence calmed you, and when you finally fell asleep, she carried you back to your room and put you in your bed, so you’d rest, the way you should. Yes, Nat was a kind and caring Alpha and the way her smell filled your nostrils made you drop your shoulders, before you greeted her. “Good morning, Nat.” You smiled, turning around, holding a plate with your breakfast, only to see the woman in nothing but sweatpants and a sports bra. Not even shoes! Her bare feet slapped on the floor as she stepped confidently into the room and you immediately looked away, feeling shy. “Morning.” She grumbled distractedly, her eyes scanning the room for something. “Do you want some breakfast?” You offered, still avoiding her gaze and the absolute mouth-watering sight that was her torso. God, you loved those strong arms, with their well-defined muscles. Not to mention those abs. You wanted to straddle her and rub your pussy over those gorgeous abs and when you’re done, you’d lick them clean! But you tried to push that thought away, not wanting to spend the rest of your day with wet panties and smelling of desperation. “No…” Natasha answered absent-mindedly, barely even looking at you, when her head suddenly snapped at you. “Hey, you haven’t seen any of my hoodies, have you?” She asked with a curious expression.

Ah, yes, her hoodies. You knew damn well where they were. And, truthfully, you intended to give them back. When you first took one or two, you meant to give them back to her. But then things got out of hand. You would usually go on missions with her, you worked well together, and an unclaimed Omega, who knew how to handle herself, not to mention, who could resist an Alpha’s influence, the way you did, was a very useful thing to a spy. But then they told you, that you needed to go on a mission with a new Alpha. The Scarlet Witch, or Wanda to you, now that you knew her a little better, was not yet experienced enough and having a seasoned, well trained and collected Omega with her certainly helped your mission greatly. But it made your anxiety sky-rocket. So just before your mission, you took one of Nat’s hoodies. She had left it on the couch in the common room and it smelled like her so much, that you didn’t even think twice. You packed it in a separate, sealed bag and took it with you, placing it on your pillow each night, thinking that you’ll wash it and give it back to her upon your return. But things didn’t exactly go that way. Apparently, your mission with Wanda went better than expected and you were asked to train more with the other Alphas, to go to more missions and each time you thought of having to leave the compound, your anxiety and distress would spike. And that’s how you found yourself with most, if not all of Natasha’s hoodies in your nest. You’d take a new one each time you had to leave for a mission, promising yourself to give them back and then you’d get so attached, that you just couldn’t. “Your hoodies?” Presently, you pretended not to know what she talked about. “No, I… I have no idea.” You lied shamelessly and you walked away, completely forgetting your own breakfast, which is why you were there in the first place. Natasha only shrugged, scratching the back of her neck as her eyes continued to search the room, even though she knew that her hoodies weren’t here. Now if only she could figure out what happened to them… During the next few days, you could see Natasha asking various people about her lost hoodies and her eyes scanning training rooms and lounge arias and your anxiety had reached a new level. It wasn’t just that you knew that she’ll eventually find out about what you did, or having to make a fool of yourself by explaining that you wanted her desperately… You also didn’t want to give them up. You felt so attached to them now. So as a means to placate the woman and maybe get her off your trail, you went ahead and bought her new ones.

It wasn’t hard to guess what she’d like, considering that you had so many of hers and you made your way back with a happy smile on your face. Yes, you were sure this would work. The stunned expression on Natasha’s face, when you handed her the shopping bag and explained the content, was absolutely priceless. You watched with joy as she rummaged through the bag and took them out one by one, inspecting them and smiling. “These are great! They’re better than my old ones! Thank you!” She exclaimed, giving you a brief hug, before she returned to her new hoodies. “You’re very welcome, Nat.” You smiled, before trying to walk away, only to be stopped in your tracks by Wanda. “Hey, Y/N, that was a very nice thing you did. Why don’t you sit down, detka, I’ll make you something to eat. I bet you skipped lunch, since you were out shopping.” The disapproving look Natasha gave the witch did not go unnoticed by the Sokovian, but she only smiled, making her way to the fridge and picking out products for a quick meal. She suspected that you liked the spy, and she had a feeling that the infamous Black Widow had similar feelings and she also suspected that neither of you had the courage to say so. Natasha was a strong Alpha, in the field, she was mesmerising to watch, but in her personal life, she never believed to be worthy of a good, little Omega to make her own. And you? God, you had it bad for her, but an Omega needed to be claimed, so of course, you wouldn’t say a thing. But Wanda had the perfect plan to nudge you both in the right direction. Let���s see how much can Natasha sit back and watch her favourite Omega being flirted with. “What do you say I make you some pasta, hm?” Wanda turned to you with a gentle smile. “With that special sauce you like so much?” She suggested. “You don’t have to do that, Wanda… I can…” You were about to say that you can make your own meal, but you were quickly interrupted. “But I want to, pretty girl. You’re always so nice and sweet and you take care of us so much. Let someone take care of you for a change.” She said with a grin, loving the way Natasha’s eyes narrowed. “Come, sit down and pick a nice movie for us to watch, while I make you something to eat.” She continued, practically guiding you to the couch and seating you, handing you the remote, so you’d pick a movie, while she cooked, all while Natasha glared.

She couldn’t explain why she felt so irritated, you weren’t hers. But you had went out shopping for her, you had bought hoodies for her, it was meant to be her that now complimented you and pampered you, not Wanda. It almost felt like the witch took her moment and it pissed her off. Grumbling, unable to watch this much longer, Natasha took the shopping bags with her, carefully unpacking everything and putting a few hoodies into the washing machine, so they’d be clean for tomorrow. She had already picked which one she’ll wear, appreciating a shorter, white hoodie with an image of a black spider above her left breast. It was gorgeous. You had wonderful taste in clothes. But with the memory of the nice gesture you made, she also remembered that you were currently spending your time with Wanda, the young Alpha complimenting you repeatedly and the image of that brought a fresh wave of irritation. It didn’t sit right with her, the way she flirted with you. So, with a brisk step, Natasha came back to the common room, only to find Wanda seated right next to you, her arm extended around your shoulders and pulling you close, while she was telling you how beautiful you looked. “I thought you guys were watching a movie.” Natasha snarled from the doorway, her hands balled into fists. “We will. We’re just waiting for the food to get ready.” Wanda informed with a sly smile, pulling you even closer to her, almost into her lap it seemed. “There’s plenty of room to talk on the couch.” Natasha pointed out, her eyes fixed on Wanda’s proximity and especially her arm around you. “I thought I’d get to know Y/N a little better. After all, she’ll be coming on another mission with me the day after tomorrow.” She announced, causing both you and Natasha to stare at her. You didn’t know anything about a new mission, especially so soon after your last one. “No one told me that.” You said, a little stunned. “They debriefed me this morning while you were out. Steve has all the files for you when you’re ready.” Wanda explained calmly. “It’s nothing special. Just 10 days in Brazil. We’ll be going after a cartel that recently seems to have gotten enhanced weapons and technology. Their leader is famous for having an eye for unclaimed Omegas. He’ll be arriving a few days earlier, so we’ll follow his movements and find out who the seller is.” “Sounds easy enough.” You nodded, trying not to show your distress.

You always got a little antsy when you had to flirt your way into an Alpha’s operation like that. They were suspicious, territorial and often vicious. Some killed Omegas, when they thought they were being spied on. Some did even worse things. You always feared what your fate would be, should your team fail you one day. Not that something like this had ever happened. Despite putting on a brave face, Wanda could sense the way you tensed up, the tightening of your muscles in her hold. You were scared, she could tell and a part of her felt terrible for bringing up so many unpleasant feelings. “Don’t worry, malush, I’ll protect you. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.” She assured, her words honest. “I know, Wanda, thank you.” You nodded, relaxing a little in her hold and allowing her gentle fingers to run through your hair. “You better make good on that promise, Maximoff.” Natasha growled from her spot, watching the scene unfold with mind clouded by a deep sense of irritation. She was jealous. Undeniably so and she couldn’t stand to see you being soothed by another. It was meant to be her, who protected you, made you feel safe, made you feel cherished and loved. You were meant to be hers. If only she had actually made a move. But how could she? Why would someone like you ever want her? With the bitter taste of regret still on her tongue, Natasha turned on her heals and left the room, not even letting Wanda respond to her words. She’ll give the younger Alpha a stern talk about you later… If she was going to stand by and watch someone else court you, she was going to make sure that they knew the consequences, should they ever hurt you or your feelings. Feeling angry, Natasha entered her room and fell on the bed with a thud. Her head turned to the shopping bag, still full of clothes that you had went out to get just for her and her heart warmed at the sight. She really should thank you. Getting up, she ran to the nearest store, buying a box of your favorite chocolates and a beautiful card, writing a few words of gratitude inside, before she returned to the compound.

Natasha looked at her hands for a moment, thinking if she should interrupt your movie with Wanda, but decided against it in the end, so she went to your room, deciding to just leave the small package for you to find. She didn’t think much of the action, having been in your room many times before, so she just walked right in. She loved being here, surrounded by you and she closed her eyes briefly, savouring it, but her steps faltered almost immediately, when her eyes opened and landed on your bed and the pile of her hoodies on it. She could smell your sweet scent in the room, all around her, but especially the bed and as she got closer, she could distinctly smell the way you’d practically rolled around in her things. She could barely sense her own scent on them now. Some of these she’d missed for months. “So that’s where they went.” She heard herself saying. As soon as the recognition came, so did something else. A question. Why had you taken them?  Why did you want her scent on you? Could you… No! That simply couldn’t be… You wouldn’t be in love with her? Perhaps you simply got attached? Omegas were such sensitive souls sometimes. And the two of you had spent so much time together. But deep down she knew she was just denying the obvious. Just like she was denying her own feelings. Unsure of what to do and how to approach such a subject, she stood frozen in place, her thoughts racing wildly. She was lost in her own world of worry and regret, desire and longing, that she didn’t even hear the approaching footsteps, until you were in the room, gasping at the sight of her. “Natasha!” You exclaimed, your eyes filling with fear and panic, as you realized she’d seen your stash of stolen hoodies. “I can explain!” You started to say, but were interrupted, when she dropped the box in her hands and closed the distance between you in a few short strides, capturing your face in her hands and making you face her. “Tell me it’s true.” She said, pleading, too impatient to even explain what she wanted to hear, her eyes soft and full of so much hope. “Please?” She almost whined. “It’s true.” You nodded, some of the initial shock dissipating. “It’s always been true. How can you not know that?” You smiled, looking up at her with hopeful eyes. That soft smile and that sparkle in your eyes as you looked at her was all the confirmation Natasha ever needed and she leaned down eagerly, claiming your lips in a gentle kiss, pouring all her passion and love into it, hoping that she could convey just how much she had been dreaming of this moment with you. God, your lips against her felt divine. She could hardly contain the throaty little growl that left her as she deepened the kiss, her arms wrapping around you in an almost possessive manner, while she pressed herself firmly against you, letting you feel the bulge in her pants, that only seemed to grow and harden the longer she touched you.

“I love you.” She whispered, lifting you off the ground and crashing your bodies against the nearest wall. It seemed to take her no effort at all to hold you up with one hand, the other cupping one of your breasts, while she pressed and rubbed her clothed sex against you. “Fuck, you feel so good!” She gasped, her hips slamming into yours, her bulge teasing your pussy and making you grow even wetter and more desperate for her. “So good, baby.” She whispered, detaching her lips from yours, so she could start trailing kisses down your neck. You shivered and trembled in her hold, back arching, so you could feel more of her. You wanted to rip the clothes from her body, feel her skin against yours, feel trapped underneath her as she pounded into you, the way you’d been dreaming of all this time. “Natasha!” You moaned her name and it drove her even more desperate with desire for you. She pulled on your shirt, hearing it rip and starting to fall apart, until she had your breasts in front of her face. Those delicious nipples were just begging to be sucked between her lips, she was sure of it, and she didn’t hesitate to do just that. “Natasha, baby!” You almost screamed this time, feeling the pressure in your stomach grow with every thrust of her hips. “Take me to bed, please!” You begged, nails digging into her shoulders as she bit your nipple. She used her tongue to soothe it and she stole one last quick peck from you, before she moved, carrying you just as effortlessly to the bed and dropping you on the big pile of her hoodies, her own body following right after and trapping you eagerly. “Don’t worry, baby, from now on, you’ll always have my scent on you.” She smirked, positioning herself between your spread legs and rutting against you with the same fervour as before. “Fuck, Natasha!” You let out a little whine. She was getting you so close. You could feel the pleasure rising, even through the layers and you were approaching an embarrassing orgasm much faster than you ever thought possible. “Fuck, baby, you gotta stop, you’re gonna make me…” You tried to warn, but she was having none of it. “Me too, Y/N. Come with me, baby.” She gasped, pulling you as close as she could, her body sweating from the heat and the intensity of the moment.

She couldn’t hold it back. Fuck, she didn’t want to. She just needed a release. She was going to claim you properly after this, give you the pleasure you deserve, but she needed this first. “Oh God!” You practically screamed, holding on to her for dear life, while her movements grew more erratic. She was practically humping you, but it felt so good that you didn’t even care. You just wanted her any way she would let you have her. “Fuck!” She grunted, a short and forceful thrust signalling the beginning of her climax, while she kissed you deeply and it was all you needed to fall off the edge right along with her. Your bodies trembled in unison and you held onto her as you whined, feeling the throbbing of your clit as you came. You felt the way her cock spasmed as well. It twitched in her pants as she released, a sigh of relief falling off her lips as she did. Eventually you both slumped against each-other, the pleasure and the intensity of the moment making you feel drunk and you weakly cuddled up to her, closing your eyes and inhaling her deeply. Natasha felt you fall asleep against her almost immediately and she didn’t have the heart to wake you. Instead, she waited for you to fully relax, before taking a quick shower, discarding her ruined boxers and putting on just her sweat pants and taking her previous spot next to you on the bed, loving the feeling of you in her arms. Her mind was plagued by doubt and insecurity and as she watched you sleep, she wanted to savour every second, too scared that you’ll wake up and realize that you’ve made a huge mistake, that she might have ruined her chance to stay in your life, now that she’d done this. Eventually, exhaustion took over her as well and she allowed herself this moment of bliss, hoping it will never end, only to be woken by soft breathy whines and little whimpers, combined with your sex rubbing itself on any part of her you could reach in the limited space of her hold. Your scent was impossible to ignore in this state and she could smell the beginnings of your heat and the desperate way your body tried to relieve some of the unbearable pressure it felt. You were still asleep, and so beautiful, features dominated by pleasure in your peaceful sleep and she admired your beauty for a long moment, before she decided to wake you. “Wake up, pretty girl.” Natasha whispered, stroking your cheek. “Open those eyes for me.” She encouraged, watching the way you scrunched up your nose, as if the mere thought was offensive. “If you’re gonna use me like that, you have to at least look at me.” She added after a moment.

You blinked your eyes open in confusion, your face brightened up by the sight of her still in your bed, before you realized what you were just doing, momentarily stiffening. You opened your mouth to say something, but you were immediately shushed by a finger on your lips. “Don’t you dare apologize.” Natasha smirked. “I just need to know if you still want this.” She told you, some of her insecurity showing. She knew you were vulnerable right now, the uncomfortable feeling of your heat only growing with each passing second. It would be so easy for her to take you right now. But she didn’t want it that way. She wanted you to be sure. “Natasha… I have loved you for so long, wanted you more than you can know, I’ve spent countless days thinking of you, countless heat cycles moaning your name and wishing you would make it better. Alpha… Please make it better this time?” You practically whined, eyes filling with unshed tears as you felt your insides churning with need. You were sure you would die if she didn’t fuck you right this second. Natasha didn’t say a word this time, pulling down your pants and panties in one smooth motion, gasping at the gorgeous pussy that presented itself to her hungry gaze. You were so wet already, your sweet smell filling her nostrils once more as she ran a finger through your wet folds. “Alpha, don’t tease!” You whined again, your hips canting up for her. “Don’t worry, baby. I’ll take care of you.” She said, taking no time in finding her place between your legs and dipping her tongue in your wetness. “So delicious, baby.” She moaned at your taste, immediately needing so much more of it. She took her time cleaning you up first, savouring your taste with every flick of her tongue, before she finally wrapped her lips around your clit, drawing slow circles over it and driving you crazy with the way she made you feel. She ate you like a woman starved, sometimes sucking on your sensitive clit with fervour and drawing deep moans of pleasure each time. She could hardly keep your hips in place, not that she cared much to try, loving the way you rode her face with clear abandon and she wasn’t surprised when you reached your climax with a strangled cry and a chant of her name. “Fuck, so good!” She murmured, after helping you ride out your orgasm. She was just about ready to start all over again, her own pleasure entirely forgotten, even if she was humping the mattress, but your hand in her hair stopped her. “Yes, that was good… But I need you inside me now, Alpha.” You pleaded, your legs spreading even wider for her. “Only your cock can make it better, please.” You practically begged and it triggered something in the older woman.

She pulled down her sweats in one swift motion, showing you her cock for the first time. God, she was big! You could see the veins that ran along her length and the precum that dripped from her tip. She was perfect. And the look in her eyes was ravenous, so she didn’t hesitate for a second, easily flipping you over and putting you on your hands and knees, letting you present yourself like a proper little Omega for her. She rubbed her length at your opening, getting her cock slick with your juices while you squirmed, but her teasing couldn’t last. She had dreamt of having you this way just as much as you had and she needed to finally claim you. Needed to finally be inside you. “Please.” You begged once more, your hips chasing her and the brief feeling of pleasure and relief that she provided every time she rubbed herself on you. “Like that, baby?” She asked, pushing herself against your opening, her tip sliding inside easily. God you were so warm, so wet, so tight around her and it took everything in her to keep her pace steady. She wanted you to feel good, wanted you to enjoy every second of being with her, she wanted to be so good that you’d never even dream of any other Alpha ever touching you. Not that she’d allow it. Now that she had you this way, she was realizing what she was missing all this time and she wasn’t going to ever let you go. “Just like that, Natasha, please!” You gasped, pushing yourself against her and taking the rest of her cock inside you, all at once. “Fuck!” She grunted, her cock spasming at the feeling of being fully buried inside you. “Is that what you want little Omega?” She asked, she teeth gritted. “You want me to ruin that pretty pussy?” “Yes! God, Alpha!” You screamed, her pace picking up quickly. You could feel your ass bouncing off of her with every thrust, her cock hitting deep inside you each time, her hands squeezing your hips in a grip so tight, you were sure she’s leaving imprints and it was heavenly. She was so good. Better than you ever imagined she would be.

“Come here!” She growled, burying her hands in your hair and pulling you up against her. She held you close, her nose buried in your neck and breathing you in deeply. “You wanna be my little Omega? Want me to claim you, baby girl? Make you mine for good?” She asks, biting your neck gently, just scratching your skin, right on that sensitive spot that drove you wild. “I’ll take good care of you baby. I’ll protect you and keep you safe, I’ll make you happy.” She promised, words soft. She could feel her knot forming at the base of her cock, her release approaching quickly and she barely held it back. You could hardly respond, all your thoughts fading into nothingness at the feeling of her cock deep inside you. You just knew she’s right where she belongs, right where you need her most and you never want it to end. “Feels so good! Yes! Want to be yours! I’ve always been yours.” You pant, soft whimpers cutting off your words, as you felt your orgasm approaching. “I’m so close, baby!” Natasha panted behind you. “You gonna come with me?” She asked softly, pulling your head further back by your hair, to make sure that your neck is fully exposed to her. “Yes, so close! Please! I want you to come inside me, please!” Watching you beg her like that was truly the last straw, and with a final, sharp thrust, Natasha felt her knot slip into place, triggering her orgasm. Endless spurts of white flooded your pussy as she felt the best orgasm of her life. This was the best moment she just knew it, her teeth sinking into your neck to mark you for good, while her legs shook and her cock throbbed inside you, making her see stars. Her knot slipping in triggered your orgasm as well and you cried out, a deep sense of satisfaction washing over you when you felt the spurts of her cum fill you up to the brim. Not even a drop slipped past her as she still rutted against you, prolonging both your pleasure. But it was her teeth sinking in that really had you experience extasy, a second orgasm crashing over you, right after the first and you milked her of everything she had as you felt yourself being claimed. When it was all over, Natasha laid you down gently and settled on top of you, your bodies still perfectly connected, chests heaving. As you turned a little, trying to look up, Natasha did her best to accommodate you and after look down at you, eyes hooded from lust, she silently turned her neck, silently offering it for you to leave your own mark on her and seal your connection for good. You licked at her neck a few times, feeling her shiver in anticipation and you sunk your teeth into her, just as she had done, hearing her soft whimpers of pleasure at the action and you tried to soothe the wound as best you could, offering her little licks and kisses that she happily accepted, even if each one made her cock throb once more. “I don’t want you going on any more missions.” She finally said, her voice thoughtful. “Especially if I can’t be there to keep you safe. You’re my mate. My love. I don’t want you in danger. I don’t want other Alphas looking at you, thinking they can have what’s mine. Don’t go tomorrow, love?” She confessed, almost pleading with you to understand. “I’ll talk to Steve.” You nodded, placing a small kiss on her lips. “And I’ll talk to Wanda.” Natasha grumbled, remembering the other Alpha and the way she had her hands around you. Her words made you laugh and the older woman looked down at you confused. “What? You think I didn’t see her hands around you, touching your hair, talking to you like that. She can’t have you!” Natasha insisted, more firmly now. “Oh, baby…” You smiled, shaking your head in disbelief. “You really don’t know?” “Know what?” She squinted down at you. “She never wanted me. I know for a fact she has her eyes on a certain robot… But I sure am grateful she gave you a push.” You laughed and this time Natasha laughed with you. “Good luck mating him.” She joked, finally relaxing, allowing her eyes to close in content. She finally had her mate. _____________________________________________________

Dear anon, on the 12th of June you sent me this request... I don't know if you still use Tumblr, I don't know if you still follow my blog, or read my fics, hell, I don't even know if you remember sending me this, it was so long ago... But should you ever see your request and read this fic, I hope you'll enjoy it!

[kumabeom]

saudade love 🫧

pilot ; you’re my lover <3

pairing : actor!soobin and actress!yn

love triangles :(

synopsis : actress!yn and actor!soobin are forced by their companies to date as a publicity stunt to promote their latest releases. however what’s to happen when yn and soobin spend more and more time together even though yn’s closest friend is keeping secrets.

“last question..” the mc announces before letting a reporter take the lead on the final question.

“soobin and yn, throughout the filming process of saudade love. the two of you were rumored to be seeing each other as more than just friends, can we get some kind of response to that ?” the reporter in front of you asks. you and soobin sitting on a theater-like stage, two high chairs next to each other. while on the other side of the stage was the director of saudade love, and a few supporting cast members.

saudade love was the new film that you had just starred in, alongside soobin, who played the main male lead. the plot was a story about yn meeting chaebol soobin. issues arising within yn’s family, which end up harming her relationship with soobin. never being able to get an end to her family’s ruthless behavior towards her, she only seems to find comfort in soobin. soobin, who comes from a wealthy family, is forced into a marriage, any kind of rebellious actions from soobin during the wedding is covered up. soobin ends up giving in, yn ends up even more hurt as it gets harder and harder to keep their secretive relationship as a healthy relationship. however, the two still only seem to feel happy around each other, the only issue being each other’s families. yet it is enough to keep them apart.

you knew that there were going to be issues with your so-called ‘controversial’ ending, since it wasn’t necessarily a happy ending, not many people were too pleased. but there was another majority of people, or rather yours and soobins fans, that enjoyed the movie due to its rawness. not every single relationship was going to end in the most fairytale way. which was exactly what saudade love’s message was trying to deliver, although it seemed to go over others’ heads.

you laugh a bit into the microphone, knowing exactly what you were supposed to do and how your company wanted you to react. taking the microphone up close to your lips, not exactly letting the two touch. you put on a flushed image, as you turn to look to soobin, who also knew his part of the live script the two of you were supposed to follow. his lips turning upwards, attempting to look rather confident about the situation, and it was working.. after all he was an actor.

“me and soobin…” you pause, taking a second to smile to yourself. looking up instead of looking at the crowd full of photographers, reporters, and journalists, a few fans in the crowd as well. “i thought we had announced a response, but i suppose not. me and soobin have been seeing each other. something about us during filming saudade love.. it just seemed to click.. we’re a few dates into our relationship but i hope that everyone will support us and our decision to be together.”

and with that, the crowd cheers, journalists and reporters typing as quick as they can. photographers snapping their pictures to use on articles that are probably being released within the next second. soobin grinned, bringing his mic up to his mouth. the image of two lovestruck actors up on stage manipulating the minds of the entire media. you looked at soobin with a tiny smile on your face. putting your best heart eyes on display.

“i think the people who have seen saudade love will notice, but the love that the two characters display is not something you can act out..” it’s funny, because he’s completely spewing out nonsense. the two of you are just convincing actors, using all the skills you’ve learned to play out your character. “at one point during filming, i stopped thinking of the script and i just started seeing yn as yn, no character or anything. i think our relationship was inevitable. yn was the sweetest person i could ever meet.” that’s a lie, well you weren’t necessarily mean, but the two of you never even spoke outside of necessary means. “i turned to her when i needed help, and she was always there to listen. not to mention, anytime yn was around, i couldn’t help but feel a certain way..” soobin grinned shyly, trying to convince everyone that he was simply too shy to continue on. which worked as majority of the audience were in complete awe.

the mc picks up his own mic, “let’s give a round of applause to our newly discovered couple !!” he pauses letting the crowd take over with their clapping, “since that was our last question, the cast and crew will give their goodbyes now !”

you stood up along with everyone, giving a bow to thank the crowd for their time and attention. afterwards you link pinkies with soobin, attempting to keep up the image of the new shy couple.

release date: july 13, 24’

4th gen it couple ! ; little minions ! ; soobin’s fave brats !

episode 1 : i was hitting my marks !

episode 2 : thinking it can change the beat of my heart when he touches me, counteract the chemistry and undo the destiny.

episode 3 : that’s my girl, y’know what i mean ?

episode 4 : and so it begins..

episode 5 : i’m gonna marry him !

episode 6 : we’ll make it through, just like we always do.

episode 7 : the thing..

episode 8 : the love of my life

episode 9 : red lipstick 💋

episode 10 : i know i shouldn’t

episode 11 : just a coworker

episode 12 : it meant the world

episode 13 : as slow as you’d like.

episode 14 : i just need a little lovin’

episode 15 : sometimes i laugh whenever im sad

episode 16 : late night mascara

episode 17 : i can do it with a broken heart

episode 18 : there’s so much loving we could be making

episode 19 : MY boyfriend

episode 20 : i know it’s probably much too late

episode 21 : drunken thoughts are sober thoughts

episode 22 : i guess sometimes we all get some kind of haunted

episode 23 : netizens are dumb

episode 24 : taehyun’s unprofessional plan

episode 25 : like we’re made of starlight ! ⭐️

episode 26 : hot people are intimidating

an : AHHHH!! so happy to be back, i feel quite refreshed since im back after seeing txt…. three times 😁😁 BUT im so ready to put out posts, remember how i said i was gonna pre-write ? well that didn’t work out because i had like 0 inspiration, i feel like i work better under pressure…

taglist (send asks !) : @run2seob @soobadooba @mrsyawnzzn @matcha-binz @taehyhunnzly @20crowsinahoodie @lun4kazumii @lunathewritingcat @wonjws @yourenzoo @missychief1404 @304blur @coconutjjun @theycallmelolla @natokkiz @everythingvirgoes @pinkhor1zon @nshitae @damn-u-min-yoongi @jiweok @wonderstrucktae @thing89 @pagetammgyu @virgo-and-libra @blossommi @cheekycountesschoi @taysfairies @20-cms @soobiluvr1205 @bloomngspring @thyunzzn @hyunj00 @yanagisprettygf @tkooooop @bamgeutori @sunooqvrlsx @flowzel

[thewadapan]

So why did Transformers One bomb?

Look, I'm just going to say it right off the bat: no, Transformers One is not the best Transformers movie of all time. I am (gritting my teeth) very happy for every single Transformers fan except me, who all seem to have liked it, and most of whom seem to have loved it. I agree that, as a production, it meets some baseline level of technical competence. It's a perfectly fine movie.

It's also the worst-performing Transformers movie Paramount has ever made.

Hopefully, now that its theatrical run has unceremoniously ended, people aren't going to try to rip me to shreds for theoretically threatening this multi-million-dollar film's box office revenue some miniscule amount by sharing a few teensy weensy complaints with my fifty followers.

Because I do just have a few little nitpicks, which I've tried my best to communicate, over the next 17,000 words of this post.

If you're not a Transformers fan, sorry, this essay is mostly written with the assumption that you've seen Transformers One. However, it might still be of some interest as a window into the current state of the franchise. I've written a basic plot summary of the movie to bring you up to speed, in that case. Because Transformers One purports to be the perfect introduction to the story, no homework needed, I've also done you the courtesy of elucidating background context as needed—think of this less as a review, and more as a history lesson, or maybe a "lore explained" YouTube video. After all, that's pretty much all that Transformers One is.

(And if farcically long posts aren't really your thing, you might prefer to listen to the special episode of Our Worlds are in Danger where my pals and I chatted about the film. Many of the hottest takes and silliest bits in this essay are shamelessly stolen from Jo and Umar.)

We've been waiting for Transformers One for a very long time. It's the first animated Transformers film to get a theatrical release since The Transformers: The Movie came out in 1986. It first entered development around a decade ago. Many fandom members I know online got to see it as far back as June. Its US premiere was in September; those of us in the UK had to wait a full extra month before seeing it, for no clear reason. This is a film which purports to show, in broad strokes, for the first time on the big screen, the origin of the Transformers: where they come from, who they are, and why they're fighting.

By the end of its runtime, Transformers One does not actually answer these questions. Don't get me wrong, it takes great pains trying to answer a lot of different, related questions—just ones which nobody was really asking in the first place: What does the word "Autobots" mean, if not "automobile robots"? What does the word "Decepticons" mean, if they're not actually deceitful? Why is he called "Optimus Prime"? Why is he called "Megatron"? If they were friends, why did they fall out? Why does Starscream sound Like That? Where does Energon come from? If "Prime" is a title, what were the other Primes like? How do Transformers transform?

Writer Eric Pearson, coming onto the project as an outsider to Transformers, describes having to go to Hasbro to ask these kinds of questions:

they had a script that outlined the story that they wanted to tell. I knew Optimus Prime and Megatron and I knew Bumblebee as well, or B. I had to ask about some of the other deeper ones, the mythology, “what exactly is the Matrix of Leadership?” Stuff like that.

See, Hasbro does in fact have the answers written down somewhere. The story as I understand it goes something like this. During the wild west of the '80s and '90s, Transformers "canon" was largely a by-the-seat-of-your-pants consensus-based affair between the freelance writers and copywriters the toy company would bring on to advertise their toys. That changed around the turn of the millennium, when late later-CEO Brian Goldner saw how Hasbro's licensed IP lines (such as Star Wars) were more financially successful and realised they could make more money by aggressively promoting their own in-house IP, which they didn't have to pay licensing fees for. (For the curious, a similar thought process at rival toy company Lego was what led to their creation of BIONICLE.)

The guy basically singlehandedly managing the Transformers brand at the time, Aaron Archer, eventually set to reconciling all the self-contradictory lore surrounding Transformers, an endeavour which dovetailed into the creation of the HasLab internal think-tank (best known for Battleship, the 2012 store-brand Michael Bay knockoff which was a failure critically and commercially but not in my heart) and ultimately the creation of the so-called "Binder of Revelation", an internal story bible which cost over $250,000 to produce and has strongly influenced nigh on every piece of Transformers media released since, but which we hadn't actually seen until it got leaked a week ago. As it turns out, the document itself (compiled mostly by marketers and toy designers) is patently useless to any writer: it's a typo-ridden internally-inconsistent wishy-washy mess that mostly describes the characters in terms of a made-up form of Transformers astrology that has otherwise never seen the light of day.

So although the Binder is the baseline story bible for most modern Transformers media, its influence isn't direct per se; it's more accurate to describe it as being an elaborate game of telephone between high-profile cartoons, comics, and other internal documents, with the Binder itself apparently just sitting in a drawer somewhere at Hasbro; Eric Pearson says that he never received a "binder", with the "script" he mentions either being the earlier draft from Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari (the guys who originally pitched the story), or some other unseen internal document. Director Josh Cooley, however, definitely seems to have been physically handed the Binder or its mass-market adaptation:

I knew that there was a lot of origin to be told, and when I first started, [Hasbro] gave me the Transformers Bible. I could not believe how big it was. I was like, "This is way more than I ever anticipated."

When trailers first dropped for Transformers One, a lot of my friends who are savvy were immediately like: "Oh, this is a weirdly faithful adaptation of the Binder of Revelation, huh."

I. The One True Origin of the Transformers

Half of the people reading this are Transformers fans, and half of you literally could not give less of a shit about Transformers, so if you're in the 'former group (so to speak), you'll just have to bear with me while I bring the rest of us up to speed.

Before the Transformers' civil war begins, Cybertron is being oppressed by the Quintessons. The Quintessons are a race of five-faced aliens (as in, not Transformers), who execute everyone they come across, first introduced in The Transformers: The Movie, presiding over a kangaroo court on a castaway world. In the followup cartoon five-parter "Five Faces of Darkness", writer Flint Dille established that, gasp, they were actually the original creators of the Transformers! But basically nobody else at the time was particularly compelled by this idea, it seems, with most fans preferring the more mythological origin story conceived by Bri'ish writer Simon Furman for the Marvel comics. I think people kind of just didn't like to think of the Transformers as being robots—mass-produced, a fabrication, programmed—as opposed to an alien race of thinking, feeling beings like us. But because the cartoon was important to many kids, a lot of early-2000s media tried to reconcile the cartoon and comic origin stories by stating that the Quintessons didn't actually create the Transformers; rather, they simply colonised the planet early in its history and pretended to be the Transformers' creators, until the truth came out and they got kicked offworld. This is how the Binder of Revelation ultimately paid lip service to the Quintessons. In Transformers One, the Quintessons are just sort of here, they're these evil aliens secretly skimming Energon from its miners, they don't speak English (or whichever language the film was dubbed into in your market region), they're just these nasty societal parasites.

Energon is Transformers fuel. In the original cartoon, it was these glowing pink cubes the Decepticons were always trying to produce using harebrained Saturday-morning-cartoon energy-stealing devices. There was a Cold War going on, America had just been through an "energy crisis", maybe you're old enough to remember any of that. Transformers are these big, complicated machines, so I guess the idea is they need this hyper-compressed superfuel to run off, and their homeworld has run out. By the time of the Binder of Revelation, the concept had been telephoned to the point where Energon is like the lifeblood of Primus or some shit.

Primus is the Transformers God—but not the kind of God you have "faith" in, rather this actual guy whose existence is objectively known in various ways. He transforms into a planet, that's kind of cool, right? Where does Primus come from? Look, it doesn't matter, he's like, the God of Creation, he was there at the start of time. He created all of the Transformers. All the other species in the galaxy, though, they evolved naturally thanks to "science". Actually wait, didn't that Quintus Prime guy go around the universe seeding all the planets with different kinds of Cybertronian life? That's why they're called Quintessons. See, now you know. Who's Quintus Prime?

Okay, so the Thirteen Original Transformers, or the Primes, are the thirteen original Transformers created by Primus. Most of them correspond to different kinds of Transformer: Nexus Prime is the god of Transformers who can combine, Onyx Prime is the god of Transformers who turn into animals, Micronus Prime is the god of Transformers who are small, and Solus Prime is the god of Transformers who are women. You might remember the Primes from Revenge of the Fallen, although there were only seven of them there for whatever reason.

Honestly, The Fallen was the only one who mattered for a long time. The whole reason there's thirteen of them is because thirteen is kind of an unlucky number, right? Twelve would've been fine. But throw in a thirteenth guy, and he betrays everyone, he's this fucked up evil guy. In the Binder of Revelation, though, the Thirteenth Prime is his own special guy shrouded in mystery, because they kind of liked the idea that Optimus Prime would secretly turn out to have been the Thirteenth Prime all along, and he just forgot or something, because that means he has the divine right of Primes. In IDW's 2010s comic-book reboot, the Thirteenth Prime was called "The Arisen"—in reference to that one line in The Transformers: The Movie, "Arise, Rodimus Prime!" (this margin is too narrow to explain who Rodimus Prime is). Towards the end of his run, writer John Barber did some actually interesting stuff with the concept, playing with the ambiguity over whether-or-not Optimus Prime was actually the chosen one.

All of Optimus Prime's immediate predecessors as Autobot leaders, Sentinel Prime, Zeta Prime, the lineage seen in "Five Faces of Darkness"... they're all false Primes. They're Primes in name only. In fact, IDW had a whole procession of these cartoonishly evil dictators thanks to a few continuity errors leading to the addition of a couple of extra narratively-redundant fuckers. Transformers One tries to simplify it slightly by just saying that Zeta Prime was one of the Primes for real—occupying that thirteenth "free space"—and it was just Sentinel Prime who was only a normal Transformer pretending to be a Prime, then Optimus Prime who's a real boy.

But if he's not a Prime from the start, Optimus Prime needs another name in the meantime. In the '80s cartoon episode "War Dawn", before he was called Optimus Prime, he was called "Orion Pax". Have you noticed that Optimus Prime is kind of an odd-one-out amongst all the straightup-English-word names like "Bumblebee" and "Ratchet" and "Jazz"? That's because his name was one of a tiny handful from very early in the franchise's development, before writer Bob Budiansky came onboard and came up with identities for the vast majority of the toys. Practically everyone Bob Budiansky named is called like, "Bolts" or some shit, long before the characters even know of Earth, which has always just been a contrivance of the setting you're not supposed to think about.

Presumably to create a parallel with Orion Pax's transformation into Optimus Prime, someone at Hasbro in the 2010s came up with a new name for the bot who would become Megatron: "D-16". In real-world terms, this was nothing more than a dorky reference to the Megatron toy's original Japanese release being number 16 in the line ("D" stands for "Destron", which is what they call Decepticons in Japan). But in-universe, the name "D-16" was drawn from the sector of the mine where he worked. I don't get the impression it was originally intended to be part of a broader pattern.

Which is why I'm baffled as to what the hell the reasoning was behind Bumblebee's pre-Earth name, "B-127". There's this bizarre situation in the Bumblebee film, where the name "B-127" first cropped up, where literally every other bot gets a normal cool name with personality like "Cliffjumper" or "Dropkick" except for Bumblebee, who is stuck with this clunky sci-fi name until he makes friends with a human teenager on Earth and she gives him the name Bumblebee. I guess I don't find it confusing that the writers would (correctly) realise it's a bit weird for Bumblebee to be called Bumblebee on an alien planet where bumblebees don't exist. What I find confusing is that they didn't extend that logic to any other character.

So despite everything else in the franchise's direction pointing away from "robot" and towards "alien", Transformers One ends up with this ridiculous situation where two of the most important guys are, for practically the whole movie, simply referred to as "Dee" and "Bee", I guess because the writers correctly realised the numbers sound fucking stupid.

And if you squint, "Elita-1" sorta fits this naming scheme. But the great irony of it is that the very same cartoon episode which coined "Orion Pax" simultaneously established that Elita-1 also used to go by a different name: "Ariel"! Like the Little Mermaid. Y'know, because an "aerial" is a type of electrical component- oh, forget it.

By the time the script made it into Eric Pearson's hands, it's obvious that he simply was not thinking about it that deeply. He describes the genesis of a scene where Bumblebee introduces his imaginary friends, "A-atron, EP 5-0-8, and Steve." A-atron was impov'd by Keegan-Michael Key as a reference to one of his own skits on Key & Peele. Steve ("He's foreign.") was literally just because Pearson thought it would be funny. It's true that Steve is an inherently funny name, and I guess if you're struggling to come up with jokes of your own, it can be handy to fall back on something which is inherently funny.

And again, our silly answers to these silly questions beget yet more questions. If he started out as "D-16", then where did the name "Megatron" come from? And if all the Primes have epic made-up fantasy names, then surely that one guy can't just be called "The Fallen", right? That's not a name, that's an epithet. Unfortunately, someone at Hasbro had the bright idea to answer both these questions at once: The Fallen's real name was "Megatronus". Later, for consistency, they threw on the title, and we get "Megatronus Prime", which sounds like what a thirteen-year-old on deviantART in 2014 would call their Steven Universe fusion of Megatron and Optimus Prime. So you see, Megatron actually named himself after Megatronus Prime, famously the most evil of the Primes. In Transformers One, this is changed slightly so Megatronus is merely the strongest of the Primes, as part of its overall effort to make Megatron not look completely insane.

Which, it must be said, is a tall order. Better stories have tried and failed. Back in 2007, Scottish writer Eric Holmes came up with Megatron Origin, a perfectly-fine comic miniseries which drew heavily from the miners' strikes that took place in the UK from 1984-1985, coinciding with the inception of the Transformers franchise. In that comic, Megatron is a lowly miner who, through a series of chance events, winds up at the head of a dangerous political revolutionary movement.

For some reason—I guess because nobody had ever tried to make Megatron anything other than a bloodthirsty cackling madman before—this take on Megatron as a guy who rose up against a corrupt system became the defining interpretation of the character, copy/pasted pretty much wholesale into the Binder of Revelation. Orion Pax also opposes the system, and bonds with Megatron over it, but they disagree on how to fix it: Pax believes in peaceful reform, Megatron just loves to kill. In Transformers One, the problem everyone has with Megatron is basically "whoa, this guy's a little TOO angry!" and there's a point towards the end of the film where Megatron suddenly starts jonesing to kill literally anyone who stands in his way, because he's irrationally angry.

The core problem here—and it's kind of the Magneto problem, the Killmonger problem, whatever better-known example you care to insert here—is that these guys all fundamentally exist just to be a big villain who loves to kill people and who ultimately gets defeated, but the kids who grew up on this stuff in the '80s are now adults who are no longer satisfied with cardboard cutout villains. People like a complex villain, they like a villain who has a point. They like to root for both sides. And in fact, it's easier to sell more toys to people who are rooting for both sides, if your villain is just another kind of hero. But you don't really need to take the same effort with the good guys: they're good by design, righteous by nature. They don't need to stand for something, they just need to stand against the guy whose whole thing is that he loves to kill people.

But again, we're starting from a place where the evil faction—who half the planet will ultimately align themselves with—are literally called "Decepticons". It's a name you'd only ever call yourself ironically, maybe reclaiming it from your enemies. In this film, there's some tortured logic that implies they're called Decepticons because they were deceived by Sentinel Prime. Like if you met a gang of guys who call themselves "The Robbers", but it turns out to be because they got robbed one time, and they actually have zero intention of stealing from anyone.

The Autobots are easier, of course. "Auto" is a prefix that just means, like, the self, or whatever. And the most agreeably American ideal of all is selfishness the power of the individual, the freedom to seize one's own destiny. Prime's original '80s motto, "Freedom is the right of all sentient beings," is bastardised in Transformers One into the slightly less rolls-out-off-the-tongue "Freedom and autonomy are the rights of all sentient beings," because (I can only assume) they forgot to work the word "autonomy" earlier into the script. If they ever greenlit Transformers Three, I suppose the motto would have ended up as something like "Freedom, autonomy, ruthless efficiency, and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope are the rights of all sentient beings." Even though bodily autonomy is one of the most salient motifs present in the film—all but referred to by name—I suppose the filmmakers were worried that you might think, when Prime says "freedom", that he actually means something completely different. So now you see! "Autobots" is actually the descriptive name of a political movement which believes in obviously good things. Like "Moms for Liberty".

Okay, so the cannier among you have probably spotted the mean rhetorical trick I'm pulling with this encyclopedia-entry-ass introduction. By sarcastically relitigating all the storytelling choices I dislike from the last 20 years of Transformers lore, I can build up a negative association with Transformers One without even reviewing the movie itself! On a subtextual level, I'm deliberately misattributing these bad ideas to the filmmakers, conveniently ignoring the mountains of evidence to suggest that they were just trying to make the best of whatever Hasbro handed them from on high. If anything—you might think—the filmmakers deserve even more credit, for spinning this shite into something even remotely good on the big screen.

Like, you'd be wrong, but I can see why you might think that.

II. The Spider-Verse of Transformers

Okay, I can see that I've spat in your soup. I'm sorry. There are lots of good bits in Transformers One. I can even think of one or two of them off the top of my head, without really racking my brains.

Maybe halfway through the film, there is one specific moment where the story suddenly promises to get good. You can pinpoint it down to the word, down to the frame even. Our heroes have just discovered that their planet's leader, Sentinel Prime, is a complete fraud who's been secretly exploiting them ever since they were born—and worse, castrated them by removing their transformation cogs. They are all very cross about this. Orion Pax expresses that he wants to come up with a plan to expose Sentinel Prime. Megatron is too angry to listen. Orion Pax asks, "Don't you want to stop him?" And Megatron replies, "No, I want to KILL him!" And there's like, a little tint of red creeping into the glow of his eyes.

Whoa. Chills. Up to this point in the film, Megatron has been kind of surly at times, but he's otherwise a generic kids' movie protagonist. He's often chipper. He makes quips. He has this banter with Orion Pax where he's always complaining. It's literally that one "Optimist Prime"/"Negatron" comic, committed to film. Like I'm not even being facetious, one of the film's few obligatory "emotional moments" has Elita-1 sit Orion Pax down and say, "You know what I love about you? You always see the bright side. Like you're some kind of OPTIMIST or something." And then later completely unrelatedly God gives him the mandate of heaven and says "ARISE, OPTIMUS PRIME!" Y'see, as originally conceived, "Optimus" is the word "Optimum" if it was a name, which is why people sometimes localise his name as "Best #1". But it's genuinely kind of cute to reverse-engineer the etymology as coming from "optimist", I guess. Like, it's stupid, but it's cute.

Argh, I got distracted with naming minutia again! Entirely my bad. That's the last time, I promise. Where was I? Right, we'd just found out that Megatron is kind of scary. Brian Tyree Henry's line delivery as he growls "KILL" is his crowning achievement in this film.

Where Optimus Prime's character arc in this movie sees him change from a funny, rebellious spirit to a complete personality vacuum, Megatron's character arc is kind of the opposite. When we're first introduced to him, it's weirdly hard to get a handle on who he is. He's a fanboy for Megatronus, the strongest and most morally-unremarkable of the Primes. He looks up to Sentinel Prime. He likes sports. He doesn't like breaking the rules. In fact, we get the sense that, were it not for his friendship with Orion Pax, he would be literally indistinguishable from the legion of silent crowd-filling background characters he works with. But the moment he starts to become Megatron, it's like everything starts to click. Gears catch, where once they ground and idled. There is something in this guy that was made to fight, made to kill, made to rule. It's sick.

And the underlying tension in his friendship with Optimus suddenly snaps into focus. Megatron is mad at Sentinel Prime, but Sentinel Prime isn't there, he's somewhere else, far below... and he can't help but turn that anger on the next closest thing to an authority figure he has in his life, which is his peer-pressuring bestie, Orion Pax. There is a part of Megatron that wishes he'd never learned the truth, and he blames Orion Pax for his cursed knowledge, for constantly leading them into predicaments on his stupid flights of fancy. Now that he knows, he can't go back to how he was. He can't stop thinking about it.

I'll be honest, it rules. Obviously it rules. It's complicated and toxic and darker than this movie was marketed to be. In interview, Josh Cooley describes the draft of the script he was presented with when he joined the project as having been far more jokey, light-hearted, glib—and it seems we can credit him for saying "Look, this ain't right, the minute the credits roll these guys are going to be at civil war for millions of years."

So, they started talking about it in — what did you say, 2015? I came on board in 2020, and when I came on board there was the first draft of the script. So I don't think they'd been working on it that entire time, but they'd been thinking about it, for sure. And the script that I read was a little more comical? But it was clear that that wasn't the right tone for this film specifically, because we know there's gonna be a war, civil war on Cybertron, you can't have everybody making jokes and then all of a sudden there's a war. So, um, the stakes were really important for this film. And because our characters at the beginning are a little naive, and just on the younger side, not as experienced, it allowed more freedom for them to be a little looser and have fun really getting to know these characters. But once they realize something's going on and things are getting real, it needs to get real.

Cooley also describes his "in" on the film as being the brotherly relationship between Optimus Prime and Megatron (they're not literally brothers in this film, though they have been in the past), which perhaps explains why Megatron and Optimus Prime get to be characters, instead of just like, guys who are there.

That was always the goal from the beginning and what got me on board. It was this relationship between these two characters that was very human and brotherly. I thought about my relationship with my brother and how I could bring that in. It’s not like we’re enemies, but we grew up together and then went down our different paths, but we’re still brotherly. I became a writer-director and live in a fantasy land, and he became a homicide detective who deals with reality, so we’re two very different mindsets. I have always been fascinated by the idea of two people who come from the same place but end up in different ones. From the very beginning, I was like, ‘That’s something I can relate to.’

Anyway, things I liked, what else. There's that joke at the very start, after the excruciating lore powerpoint, where Orion Pax does a fake-out like he's going to transform, the music briefly swells, and then it just cuts to him legging it down the corridor. In a similar vein, I liked the idea behind the Iacon 5000, where Orion Pax has them run in the race. I felt like the execution of the race left a bit to be desired—the only other participant who matters is Darkwing—but it's still honestly the best big action setpiece in the film. There's also that bit at the end where Megatron and Optimus Prime are both changing into their final forms simultaneously, and it's basically a Homestuck Flash (what would that be, "[S] OPTIMUS PRIME. ARISE."?), so obviously I liked that. Oh, and I really liked the environment design where the planet's landscape is constantly transforming, that's brand-new, someone had an Idea there, and it creates visual interest during the initial Energon-mining scene... even if I wished it had actually paid off in a more meaningful way than "the planet's crust opens as Prime falls to get the Matrix"—like, someone really should've gotten eaten by the planet, that's a cracking Disney death scene and they left it on the table! I also liked getting to see my blorbo, Vector Prime, on the big screen.

I think, as a Transformers fan who's had to sit through a lot of really quite sexist, racist, and plain bad films, you're well within your rights to come out of this one ready to give it a fucking Oscar. You should be ecstatic! It has none of those pesky humans clogging up the frame. It has plenty of robot action. It has jokes which- well I struggle to call many of them "funny", but they're at least trying to be funny in a different way to Michael Bay's films. The film is obviously a massive love letter to... honestly every part of Transformers except the live-action movies. It is an incredibly faithful and earnest adaptation of all the lore and iconography that has randomly accumulated the way it has over the last forty years of bullshit.

My main point of contention, then, is with the overriding sentiment I'm seeing from pretty much everyone else in the fandom: that this is not just the best Transformers movie, but that it's a great animated movie period, that it does for Transformers what Into the Spider-Verse did for Spider-Man, what The Last Wish did for Puss in Boots, and what Mutant Mayhem did for Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles. That, in effect, this film will make you "get it". That it's better-looking, better-written, and more meaningful than a silly toy commercial has any right to be.

I think you can definitely see some loose influence from Spider-Verse in the overall look of the film—particularly in its color grading, and in the design of its main setting, the underground city of Iacon, where the upside-down skyscrapers hanging from the ceiling evoke the iconic "falling upwards" shot from Spider-Verse. Like The Last Wish, it's an animated franchise film that spent much longer than you'd think in development, only for the release of Into the Spider-Verse to have an immediate impact on its visual style... without actually affecting the basic story to the same extent. Both Transformers One and The Last Wish, in many ways, feel like stories concocted using an older formula; in particular, Transformers One bears startling similarities to a similar toy-franchise-prequel, BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui, which was released twenty years ago! By contrast, Mutant Mayhem—which had a much shorter development period—is a direct reaction to Spider-Verse in both aesthetic and narrative, and it has a much more distinctive creative direction as a result.

If you look at how all these titles have performed in cinemas, I think you can make a pretty strong case that audiences are perfectly willing to go out and see this kind of flick. A glance at Wikipedia tells me that Mutant Mayhem, The Bad Guys, and The Last Wish grossed double, triple, and quadruple their budgets respectively. In terms of the pre-existing cultural cachet they were banking on, we're talking about Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, a children's book series I'd never heard of, and fucking Puss in Boots. You cannot tell me that Transformers, as a brand, is on the same level as any of these properties. Meanwhile, Transformers One hardly broke even, while The Wild Robot—another DreamWorks film based on a children's book I've never heard of, which it ended up competing with in theatres—grosses three times its budget. My friends who've seen The Wild Robot say it made them cry.

Face it: Transformers One has not lit the world on fire. I've seen a lot of people cope with this by suggesting that it's to do with the film's staggered release, or even by claiming that the film's marketing was somehow misleading. I'll be honest, upon seeing it, it did not strike me as being at all dissimilar to the trailers. You can maybe say that the trailers undersold the depth of Orion Pax's and Megatron's relationship—which is its best aspect—but honestly, I think if they'd taken a lot of those scenes out of context and put them in early teasers, audiences would've laughed it out of theatres. Like, c'mon, it's toy robots, stop pretending it's Shakespeare. And otherwise, what you see is what you get; it's exactly what it says on the tin.

I wonder how many Transformers fans, on some level, have noticed that even when we're supposedly "eating good", and watching "peak cinema", our films just aren't as good as everyone else's. They're something you'll enjoy if you're already highly predisposed to enjoy them. But otherwise, they're not turning heads. They're not as funny, or as heartfelt, or as complex, or as exciting, or as charming, or as memorable, or as beautiful as these other films. Unlike with Spider-Verse, there's no word-of-mouth amongst normal people to say that this is a film worth seeing.

What I perceive in studios hoping to recreate the flash-in-the-pan success of Spider-Verse is a misunderstanding of what made people go crazy for that movie in the first place. Yes, it changed our conception of what an 3D-animated film could look like. Yes, the multiverse is very cool and all that. Yes, it had a huge IP attached to it. But on a more fundamental level, that movie has a fantastic story underpinning it. The script is razor-sharp. The story is beautifully complex. The vision of New York City it presents is a living, breathing place, populated by real people. It has the kind of craft to it that can only come from truly obsessive creators cultivating an absolutely miserable professional environment for a legion of passionate animators.

In interview, Transformers producer Lorenzo di Bonaventura actually spoke surprisingly candidly about his view on crunch:

I probably shouldn't answer this question, because I'm not exactly PC on my answer. I think the nature of filmmaking is, we're really lucky to work in a business that's about passion. Passion doesn't fit really well into a timeline, so inevitably you come to a crunch time. It's just true in the live action, it's true in every movie, and authors always tell me that about when they're writing their books — it's the same thing happens to them! There's something about the creative process that's not — it's unruly. So, I think if you're enjoying it, you need to recognize that. Like, you know, I don't wanna abuse anybody, and y'know — if you get into that period where people have to really work too hard, you gotta help them in that situation, then. 'Cause it's gonna come. It does on every movie. I've never seen it not come, no matter how well you plan, et cetera. 'Cause it's not a science what we're doing at all, and there's all these discoveries that happen near the end, which makes you go "oh, let's do some more, come on!". We discovered that on this movie, where we're calling ILM going "we've got a few ideas, you know, do you have enough man-hours?". [...] Like, you gotta be conscious of it — in live-action, for instance, there are some studios that are so cheap that when you're on — sort of medium location-distance and you're shooting 'til midnight, they don't pay for a hotel room. It's like, well, no-no-no, you pay for a hotel room. You protect the people.

According to everyone who worked on Transformers One, everyone who worked on Transformers One was very passionate about it. But there are parts of this film where I think you can say, pretty objectively, that it's falling short of its intended effect. So I guess maybe they weren't that passionate. I'm not saying that to be mean! It's just... isn't that better than the alternative—that this was the best they could do?

III. I did not care for The Godfather

At one point in the film, the gang's magic map leads them to a scary cave, which looks like this:

Bumblebee fills the dead air by saying, "A cave, with teeth. Nothing scary about that!" The joke here is that this is a cave that looks like a mouth. But as depicted, it's a cave that looks like a mouth that doesn't look like a cave! I get that this is an alien planet, but stalactites don't grow that way on Earth, so when you see the cave onscreen, your gut reaction isn't "oh my, what a frightening cave!". No, this is a cave that makes you say, "that's not a cave, that's some kind of alien monster".

(It's not like "cave turns out to be a monster" would in any way be a fresh twist. In BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui, there's a bit where a character swims into a scary cave, and it turns out to be the mouth of a massive sea serpent. In The Empire Strikes Back, the Millennium Falcon briefly hides in an asteroid tunnel which turns out to be a giant space worm. So I'm definitely not saying Transformers One would've been a better film if it had used this stock trope.)

Then once the heroes go inside, we're whisked off to an entirely different set of concept artwork, for this lush organic underground paradise. There's no danger there. The cave itself is reduced to a strange little footnote. Maybe it's only in the story because a concept artist drew it before they'd worked out the finer points of the narrative, and Keegan-Michael Key just ended up ad-libbing the "teeth!" line when he was told to vamp for a few seconds. Or maybe the teeth gag was fully written into the script from the start, and the environment artists just interpreted it way too literally.

Like, I'm sorry, I don't mean to start off on the wrong foot here by harping on about the cave thing—it's not a perfect example anyway—but to me it's a microcosm for my frustration towards what I perceive to be a lack of creative vision in this film. So much of the film feels like it's not there to be entertaining, or meaningful, or narratively load-bearing... it's just obligatory, something they threw in for the sake of having anything at all. It's colors and sounds. When you see the spiky shape onscreen, you think, "ooh, this film was pretty bouba earlier, but now it's more kiki!" They get the comedian to improvise a few one-liners while the characters walk from place to place. And it's like, yes, this is a film for children. Of course the heroes have an adventure map with a big red X on it. In many respects this is a glorified episode of Pocoyo, or the modern equivalent, which I guess is "Baby Shark | Animal Songs For Children".

Nowhere is this sense of "we are obliged to put this in the movie" felt more strongly than in its supporting cast. When you look closely, you notice that Bumblebee and Elita-1—placed prominently in the film's marketing and being technically present for much of its runtime—don't actually do anything of narrative significance. They don't make choices that impact the story; they're just there, and it would not take much rewriting to excise them entirely, so it's just Orion Pax and Megatron on their little adventure. In fact, I'll just come out and say it: I think Transformers One would have been a better movie if Bumblebee and Elita-1 were not in it.

It helps that, from a Doylist perspective, the motivations for their inclusion are perfectly transparent. Firstly, think of the merchandise! Secondly, in Bumblebee's case, it's fucking Bumblebee, he's the whole reason half the kids will be watching, you can't not have him in there. Whenever Bumblebee's not onscreen, all the other characters should be asking, "where's Bumblebee?" Also, I think the creative team felt that they could use Bumblebee tactically to balance some of the darkness in the story.

In the G1 cartoon, Bumblebee just has the default Autobot personality—good-natured, a little sarcastic—with the dial turned a little more towards friendliness. There's this iconic anecdote from the production that cartoon, where writer David Wise found himself in exactly the same situation Transformers writers are finding themselves in forty years later: he was told to write a story about something called "Vector Sigma", and he had no fucking clue what Vector Sigma was supposed to be. So he asked story editor Bryce Malek, who also had no fucking idea. Malek in turn asked Hasbro, and was told that Vector Sigma was "the computer that gave all the Transformers personalities". Upon hearing this, Malek said, "Well, it didn't do a very good job, did it!" Vector Sigma, in case you missed it, does actually appear in Transformers One, as the polygonal shape that transitions into the Matrix of Leadership in the opening powerpoint; I guess they're one and the same now. Some things never change: in Michael Bay's Transformers movies, there is again just a single default personality that every single Autobot shares, a braggadacious action-hero facade over genuine bloodthirst. Who can forget that iconic moment in Revenge of the Fallen where Bumblebee rips out Ravage's spine in grisly slow-mo?

Aside from the fact that he's small and yellow, Bumblebee in Transformers One bears very little resemblance to any incarnation of the character kids might be accustomed to. Instead, he occupies a stock comic-relief archetype, he's a zany guy who goes "Well, that just happened!" If anything, his one joke in the third act—wanton murder—reads like it could maybe be a reference to his many Mortal Kombat fatalities in Bay's films. Beginning in 2007's Transformers Animated, Bumblebee has sometimes possessed deployable "stingers" that flip out from his hands, as a fun action feature for toys. Clearly someone on Transformers One saw this and thought it was the funniest fucking thing that Bumblebee has "knife hands", because the character spends the third act of the movie just shouting "knife hands!" and cutting people in half like a medieval terror.

(In the UK, Bumblebee's lines were re-recorded at the last minute so he says "sword hands" instead. This is because in the UK, we generally aren't able to kill each other using guns, so it's knives that are the big armed-violence boogeyman. Everyone's always talking about how all the kids have knives. And look, I'm not someone to indulge in moral panic, but genuinely, when I look at Bumblebee chasing around people with knives, saying, "I'm gonna cut these guys, watch!", I'm like... what the fuck were they thinking when they wrote that?)

Frankly, whatever is going on with Bumblebee is just an entirely different movie to everything else that's happening. When Bee shanks his twelfth nameless lackey in a row, the movie's like, awww, you're sweet! But when Megatron tries to kill the one (1) evil dictator who's just fucking branded him, who's still lying to his face while his people continue to die to the guy's fuckin' honor guard, Optimus Prime is like, HELLO, HUMAN RESOURCES?

Bumblebee is solely here to be funny, but there's a point in the film where it needs to become a war story, and the best they can think to do with Bumblebee is to have him kill people but in like, a funny way.

As for Elita-1... look, to put it very bluntly, she is in this movie to be a woman. Transformers has had a long, long forty-year history of boys'-club exclusionism, if not outright misogyny, and each new series usually has a token female character, as a kind of fig-leaf for the fact that really, the only fucking thing Hasbro cares about is that the boys are buying the toys. Beginning in the 1986 movie, it was Arcee who got to be "the pink one" for many years of fiction—but not toys, y'see, when parents want to buy something for their beloved young lad, they don't buy "the pink one", no sir. In the 2010s, wow-cool-OC Windblade took over for a stint as leading lady, decked out in a commercially-non-threatening red color scheme. Recently, though, it's been Elita-1—Optimus Prime's girlfriend from the original '80s cartoon—who's been the go-to female character, and she's increasingly allowed to be pink.

There is a lot of love for these characters amongst creatives and fans alike, and especially in the last decade, female Transformers have been both more numerous and better-written than ever. Unfortunately Transformers One, which depicts Elita-1 as an arms-crossing career-obsessed buzzkill, whose arc sees her learn her place in deference to a less-competent man... well let's just say it struck me as a significant step back in this regard.

There's this great interview with Scarlett Johansson, voice of Elita-1, where she's trying to describe what makes her character interesting, and it's like she's drawing blood from a stone. She's like, "yeah, so Elita-1, I would say, she's on her own journey, because at the start of the film it's sort of like she's working at a big company, you know, and she wants to get a promotion, but then later on she learns that she can't, y'know, get a promotion". Look, it's not that Scarlett Johansson does a bad job—in fact, considering the material she's working with, she practically carries Elita-1 entirely on the back of her performance—it's just that I can't shake the impression that the filmmakers would rather pay Scarlett Johansson god knows how many thousands of dollars than try to think of a second actress that they know of.

As I've already complained, Transformers One has a pretty thin cast, but it effectively only has two other female characters who do anything. Airachnid is a secondary antagonist, Sentinel Prime's spymaster/enforcer, and it's clear that some concept artist really fucking popped off when designing her. She has eyes in the back of her head, and it's ten times creepier than that makes it sound. Her spiderlegs also create some visual interest during fight scenes. As a character, Airachnid has zero internality and is not interesting, but she is cool, so you'll get no complaints from me there.

The film's other other female character is Chromia, who wins the Iacon 5000 race at the last moment. She really comes out of nowhere to clinch it. It's funny, because the leaderboards show this one guy, Mirage, hovering near the top of the rankings for almost the whole sequence. And Chromia's character model really looks suspiciously like Mirage's. In fact, there's a different character who stands around in the background a couple of times who looks much more like Chromia. Funnily enough, that background character is even called Chromia in concept art! So if you connect the dots, it really seems that the "Chromia" who is the best racer on Cybertron was originally meant to be Mirage, a guy, until they switched the character's gender at the very last minute, and didn't bother changing the leaderboards to match.

There are two possible explanations for this. The first is that Mirage was the dark horse of Rise of the Beasts, and for some reason they felt like his depiction in Transformers One would've gotten in the way of their plans for the character somehow. It's plausible, I guess. The second, infinitely funnier option, is that at some point someone working on the movie realised that they only put two women in the film, scrambled to look through the feature to find a suitable character to gender-swap, only to discover to their horror that they'd forgotten to put in any characters whatsoever. Fuck it, the racer guy! He can be a girl. Diversity win, the fastest class traitor on Cybertron... is a woman!

In case you were wondering about the Transformers One toyline leaderboards, by my count, Orion Pax has ten new transforming toys currently announced or in stores, Bumblebee and Megatron have six each, Sentinel Prime has four, Alpha Trion has two, Elita-1 has two, Airachnid has one, Starscream has one, Wheeljack has one, and the Quintesson High Commander has one. In fact, one of Elita-1's toys—the collector-oriented high-quality Studio Series release—isn't scheduled for release until some undetermined point later next year, and she was entirely absent from leaked lists of upcoming releases, which to me smacks of "we realised last-minute that it would look really really bad if we didn't bother to release a good toy of the one woman in the film". Oh, and obviously, Chromia has no toys—but there is an "Iacon Race" three-pack consisting of Megatron, Orion Pax... and Mirage. Go figure.

The thing is, all of the stuff I'm grousing about here is pretty much standard fare for kids' films targeted more at boys. Hell, even The Lego Movie—which is basically the gold standard of toy commercials—gave supporting protagonist Wyldstyle a pretty similar arc to the one Elita-1 gets here, which was probably the weakest element of that film. Evidently conscious of this, Lord & Miller redeemed themselves by devoting the entirety of The Lego Movie 2: The Second Part to deconstructing common narratives surrounding gender roles. I guess I just wish the young girls who presumably comprise some portion of Transformers One theatergoers could actually get anything out of Elita-1 as a character. Ah, what do I know, maybe it's still considered countercultural simply to depict a woman punching people.

Still, to give credit where it's due: Transformers One doesn't remotely touch the gender-essentialism prevalent in the Binder of Revelation, treating female Transformers no differently to their male counterparts in lore terms. Solus Prime is, it seems, just a Prime who happened to be a woman, rather than the mythological Eve after whom all women are patterned. There's a scene where our heroes are gifted the Transformation Cogs of the fallen Primes, and the Primes named thankfully bear no particular relation to the characters; in other words, Elita-1 isn't given Solus Prime's cog. As Alpha Trion puts it: "What defines a Transformer is not the cog in his chest, but the spark that resides in their core." Dude really remembered nonbinary people exist halfway through that sentence huh.

(Actually, the bigger mistake would've been with Megatron: if he was given Megatronus Prime's cog from the start, then this would've created the unfortunate implication that his descent into evil was only the result of Megatronus Prime's fucked up and evil cog, rather than a choice Megatron made of his own free will. The film instead has it the other way around: Megatron's radicalisation into a "might makes right" philosophy is what causes him to covet Megatronus Prime's transformation cog, to steal that power from Sentinel Prime, who stole the cogs of both Megatronus and Megatron in the first place. That's cool! This does create a bit of unfortunate narrative dissonance with Alpha Trion's words, alas, as it does seem like Megatronus Prime's cog really is more powerful than the others, because it gives both Sentinel Prime and Megatron a powerup.)

There's just something that I find so dreadfully mercenary about this movie's cast—honestly, everyone except Orion Pax, Megatron, and maybe Sentinel Prime. Take Darkwing, for example. Bro was clearly designed from the ground up to fill this stock character role of "bully who pushes our guys around and later gets his comeuppance". For a more interesting take on that exact same archetype, look no further than Todd Sureblade from Nimona, a bigoted knight who gets a whole damn character arc in the background, which directly complements that film's main themes.

Again, I'm not playing some kind of guessing game here, the authorial evidence is right there: Darkwing didn't even have a name until Hasbro designer Mark Maher was shown a picture of the character and asked, "If this was a Decepticon flyer, who would it be?" This is actually par for the course with ILM; most of their concept art is labelled with very basic descriptions, with the exact trademarks being picked in conjunction with Hasbro at a later point. Darkwing just stands out in Transformers One because he's the only recurring speaking character who's an OC in all but name (unless you count Bumblebee), he's the one guy who's been invented from scratch with total creative freedom, and he's boring as sin. It's like the filmmakers just couldn't conceive of a children's movie without that stock character—and they clearly had no idea what to do with him once they'd invented him, because he disappears entirely from the film at the start of the third act, when Orion Pax throws him into an arcade cabinet, which they have in the mines on Cybertron for some reason.

In a film with as painfully few named speaking characters as Transformers One, there's really no excuse for having this kind of one-dimensionality in their portrayals. Genuinely, I ask—who are Orion Pax and Megatron fighting to liberate? Jazz, one of the biggest personalities from the original G1 cartoon, who gets all of two boilerplate lines here? Cooley seems to think so:

As you’re designing them the background characters are almost like Lego pieces where you put different heads on different bodies just to fill in a crowd. But some of them would be brought forward and be painted specific colors so that it represents a character that I didn’t know was such a big deal. But there was stuff—like Jazz, for example, has a pretty big role. It was important to have a relationship with a character that we know gets to be saved.

To me, the idea that casual cinemagoers would be invested in any of the Transformers as characters is laughable. Michael Bay's characters are famous for being hateful non-entities. In terms of the films, Jazz is best remembered for dying at the end of the first one, seventeen years ago; he looks completely different here. The one breakout character in recent years—Mirage, as played by Pete Davidson in Rise of the Beasts—was, as I've already mentioned, written out so that the movie could reach its girl quota... not that he would've had any lines anyway.

And I just don't buy the idea that the complete dearth of compelling characterisation in this film is just an unfortunate side-effect of its clipped one-hour-thirty runtime—that, given even half an hour longer, the film would suddenly be crowded with rich portrayals of all your Transformers faves. Bumblebee and Elita-1, ostensibly two of the most important characters in the film, are not in this movie because the movie is interested in telling their stories. They are in this movie for the sake of being in this movie. It insists upon itself.

IV. No politics means no politics

In fact, putting aside merchandising considerations, Elita-1 and Bumblebee serve one very specific purpose in narrative terms. The trait Optimus Prime and Megatron have always had in common is that they are both leaders—and what is a leader, without anyone to lead? Without Bumblebee and Elita-1, you'd have this farcical situation where the only person Optimus Prime ever gets to boss around is Megatron, until the very end of the movie when God makes him king of all Cybertron. The High Guard, Starscream's gang of exiles, serve a similar narrative purpose for Megatron; they're a ready-made army who've just been sitting around waiting for him to show up and take charge.

Towards the end, the movie does actually take care to show both Orion Pax and Megatron rallying groups of Cybertronians: in Pax's case, he reveals the truth to his legion of interchangable miner friends, while Megatron riles up the High Guard mob. Again, there's a bit of that narrative sleight-of-hand, a bit of a thematic cop-out, where the question of "how do Optimus Prime and Megatron come to be leaders of their factions?" is answered only in the most literal possible interpretation. Yes, we technically see the exact chain of events that lead to this point—but both characters are portrayed as born leaders. We don't see them grow into the role, except physically. The moment Megatron decides he wants to rule, he's able to take charge. Likewise, Optimus Prime just gets divinely appointed by God. At a key point, Megatron loudly declares "I will never trust a so-called leader ever again", and the movie plays a fucking scare chord like this is supposed to be ominous. Like, oh no! Optimus Prime is a leader! And they're friends! Whatever will Megatron do when he finds out his friend, Optimus Prime, is a leader?

I don't think the movie has given any real thought to what a leader actually is. It seems to take a stance that power cannot be taken, i.e. through violent action, as Sentinel Prime and Megatron do. That one scene with Elita-1 suggests the most important trait for a leader to have, above and beyond any particular competency, is simply hope and optimism. What I just can't wrap my head around is the fact that the counterpoint the movie presents to Megatron, in the form of Orion Pax becoming Optimus Prime, does not support a belief in collective action or basic democracy—rather, it's a boring sword-in-the-stone divine-right-of-kings fantasy.

Except I do have a theory for why the film is like this. Let's look again at that interview with Eric Pearson, who came onboard in the "late middle" of production:

One of the first things that I did was a big pass on Sentinel Prime. I just felt like he was too obviously telegraphing his wickedness in previous versions, and I felt like, “No, he’s a carnival barker.” He’s got to be a big salesman. He’s a bullshitter, honestly is what he is.

(Honestly, if this is Sentinel after a "big pass" to make his villainy more of a twist, I shudder to think what the earlier drafts were like.)

Now, let's see how WIRED introduces their interview with Josh Cooley, titled "Transformers One Isn't as Silly as It Looks":

He liked the script, which traces how Optimus Prime (Chris Hemsworth) and Megatron (Brian Tyree Henry) went from friends to enemies. But as the world went into lockdown as Covid-19 spread, Cooley found his story changing, if only slightly. Trump was still in office when Cooley started working on the film, and he was having meetings with the producers and they’d “start these meetings off on Zoom just going, like, ‘Holy crap what is going on in this world?’” he says. Ultimately, the infighting they were seeing between Democrats and Republicans in the same family became an undercurrent in the film’s friends-to-enemies storyline, “because that’s what Transformers is.”

So it's like, oh, this is a 2016 election thing. This is just that one election that broke everyone's brains. Of course this movie about a made-up political struggle on an alien planet being developed from 2015-2020 wouldn't be like, hey, you know what might fix our society's problems, is if we had an election. Of course the main villain is a "big salesman" "bullshitter" who says things like "The truth is what I make it!". Wow, guys, your film is so-o-o politically-conscious, and very pretty.

The fantasy is more or less that Donald Trump's army of reactionaries is marching on Washington to seize power through violent means, and on the way he drops Joe Biden into the Grand Canyon, but just before Joe hits the ground a giant fucking bald eagle swoops in to catch him and squawks, "God finds you worthy! Arise, President Biden!"

In our escapist little morality play, our best friend slash allegorical dad gets made king of the planet, and we all get jobs in the government. As in, one of the funniest lines in the movie is straightup Bumblebee exulting, "This is the greatest day of my life. I get to work for the government!" When Prime met Bumblebee—an hour ago—the dude was talking to imaginary friends, and honestly the only fucking skill he's demonstrated since then is cold-blooded murder. We have this dissonance in the storytelling, where it's mostly a story about four friends going on an adventure (are they even friends? Most of them hate each other!), but it's also a founding-fathers political origin story, which means there comes a point where our hero just suddenly starts bossing his friends around in a deep voice, and they're like, "Yes, sir!" It creates this unhinged situation where the "good" faction on Cybertron is ruled by the biblical chosen one and his nepotism buddies.

Per that quote from WIRED (or are they just putting words in Cooley's mouth? I can't help but notice they don't give an exact quote!), the film is ultimately sympathetic to the bad guys (the Republicans, I guess). It deliberately suggests that there is really nothing that should divide the Autobots and the Decepticons: their political goals, it claims, are identical, and they only disagree on the means by which to achieve them. The Decepticons, who are angry and hateful, have simply been misled by a power-hungry liar with charisma—first Sentinel, then Megatron—and so the tragedy is that they are artificially pushed into conflict with their fellow men, when really they should be uniting to stand against their common enemy, the foreigner illuminati trying to steal Cybertron's wealth.

Now, I know I've just handed you a get-out-of-jail-free card. My political allegory here is chock full of holes. What, are Sentinel Prime and Megatron both Donald Trump? Get a grip. Obviously any real-world commentary in Transformers One was only intended in the loosest sense imaginable: things like, "people should be free to change into whatever they want!" I'm being unfair, I'm reading too much into it, this is a cartoon movie for children, and if I want politics, I should start reading some fucking books. Also, come to mention it, my whole argument about that cave earlier really didn't hold water, and- I know, alright? I know.

V. Place / Place, Cybertron

I'm not mad at this toy commercial because its politics don't quite align with mine. I'm not mad at it for having a boring-ass supporting cast. I'm not mad at it for reheating a bunch of half-baked lore I didn't care for from the early 2010s. I've actually spent a lot of time mad about Transformers media that I've thought was bad. There's Transformers: Armada, where the English translators are fully asleep at the wheel and render even the most basic cartoon plots incomprehensible though constant mistranslations. There's Transformers: Micromasters, where two white guys wrote a downtrodden race of tiny Cybertronians who greet each other like "Wattup, my micro!". There's the recent series of Transformers: EarthSpark, where there's an episode that I can only describe as "the Wonka Experience but it's an episode of a children's cartoon", with a plotline that mostly revolves around our child heroes straightup robbing a Onceler-looking businessman of his most valuable possession. There's Transformers: Age of Extinction, with that one scene, and also the rest of that movie. In fact, I would go so far as to say that most Transformers fiction is some combination of bad, offensive, and offensively bad.

So even though I've just spent thousands of words whinging and moaning about how I didn't like Transformers One, the truth is that I had a perfectly nice time at the cinema. I got to go see it with five of my pals who love Transformers just as much as I do, and we had a blast. It is easily in the top 50% of all Transformers fiction.

Unfortunately, for whatever reason, I guess I've always given a lot of thought to what Transformers looks like from the outside. Maybe it's that I'm compelled to spend so much time and money on it, that it somehow compels me to vomit up these kinds of essays, and all I want is to be able to make it make sense to anyone in my life. It would be so, so nice if I could just sit down in the cinema with a friend or family member for a couple of hours, and at the end of it, they'd be able to walk out and say, "Okay, I guess I see what you get out of it." Rise of the Beasts was kind of that movie for me, but Rise of the Beasts is also the seventh instalment in a blockbuster franchise. It kind of takes for granted everything about Transformers.

It doesn't answer, "what the fuck is a Transformer anyway?"

For many years now, fans have noticed a marked aversion to using the word "transform" as a verb, or even as a noun. Optimus Prime no longer says, "Autobots, transform and roll out!", he just says, "Roll out!". Transformers no longer transform, they "convert". In fact, Transformers are no longer Transformers at all: they are "Transformers bots", the italics here serving to distinguish a registered trademark. This is because the worms in suits at Hasbro are worried that, if they continue to use the word "transform" by its dictionary definition—that is, to change—then rival toy companies will be able to make the case that anything that transforms can legally be described as a Transformer. It will become a generic trademark, like Velcro, or Band-Aid, or Dumpster.

Yet in Transformers One, "Transformers" is not just the noun by which the characters are referred to—rather, it's used in a descriptive sense to specifically mean "Cybertronians who can transform"! Characters are constantly talking about whether they can or can't transform. Prime gets to say his catchphrase in full. It's a miracle. Not only that, characters even get to say the word "kill" instead of "defeat" or "destroy".

Transformers One has a level of unrestricted creative freedom not seen since the 1986 animated film. This is a film unconstrained by location shooting, or licensing deals, or uncooperative actors; through the magic of CGI, for every single frame of its one-hour-thirty runtime, the filmmakers can put literally whatever they want on the screen. They were given the assignment, "Make an animated prequel set on Cybertron telling the origin story of Optimus Prime and Megatron", handed an estimated $147 million and a blank page, and told to go nuts. Like those born with transformation cogs, Transformers One had the power to become anything it wanted to be.

The 1986 animated film took that carte blanche to do whatever the fuck it wanted, and basically singlehandedly defined the direction of the franchise ever since. On a lore level, in terms of tone, I would say that Transformers owes practically everything to The Transformers: The Movie. Cartoons, comics, films, and video games have adapted every single one of its scenes countless times over. I'm not necessarily saying that it's a good film, or even that it's a particularly original film—much of it is ripped off from Star Wars—just that it took the franchise somewhere it hadn't gone before. It was looking to the future. As in, literally, it was set in 2005, at the time two decades into the future.

What gets me down about Transformers One is that—like most major franchise media released since The Force Awakens—all it can do is think about the past. Swathes of it are devoted to painstakingly recreating or setting up the various bits of iconography which have arbitrarily come to define the franchise. Even when it appears to be taking things in a new direction, it's not long before it course-corrects back into familiar territory: Steve Buscemi invents a surprisingly fresh take on Starscream's voice, and then Megatron half-strangles him to death, saddling him with a post-produced rasp to emulate Chris Latta's iconic performance from forty years ago.

The very title of the film, Transformers One, is an allusion to the line, "Till all are one," which originates in The Transformers: The Movie. In an early script for that '80s feature, it was actually "Till all life sparks are one", referring to a literal metaphysical process in that draft whereby one Transformer's life force could be passed on to another, presumably with the belief that they would all eventually be merged into a single afterlife. In the finalized story, it's just this kind of mystical phrase vaguely evoking concepts of togetherness and unity.

Transformers One brushes up against the phrase a couple of times. Alpha Trion almost says it at one point, when passing on his dead siblings' transformation cogs: "They were one. You are one. All are one!" Whatever that means. Later, Orion Pax starts a chant amongst the miners: "Together as one!" And finally, at the very end of the movie, during his obligatory film-ending monologue, Optimus Prime again goes: "And now, we stand here together... as one." (Half of Cybertron has just been banished to the surface forever.) "[...] Here, all are truly... Autobots." (Again, half of Cybertron- Optimus, what the fuck are you talking about?) Regardless, this is inexplicably the one instance where the movie doesn't twist itself up into knots trying to nail the exact phrasing.

Actually, there is one other sideways reference like this I can think of. Early in the film, Orion Pax is chatting up Elita, and he remarks, "Feel like I have enough power in my to drill down and touch Primus himself." To which Elita replies, "You don't have the touch or the power." This is kind of a nonsensical retort unless you know that in the 1986 movie, one of the most iconic songs on the soundtrack was "The Touch" by Stan Bush, which had the chorus line: "You got the touch! You got the power!" It's a banger. Anyway, remember when I said Darkwing gets chucked through an arcade cabinet? Well, here's Cooley revealing why that arcade cabinet is in the film:

I actually wrote [that exchange between Orion Pax and Elita] because I love that song. [...] And we had this one version where D-16 and Orion were playing a video game, like a stand-up old arcade game—it was inspired to look like that, but a Cybertonian version of that. They’re playing that together like friends and the song, like the 8-bit song that’s playing is ["The Touch"]. But that scene got nixed. And so I wanted to work it in there somewhere. And I just felt like a natural place for it. But that was one where I’m like, "I just love that song and those lyrics and that’s Transformers to me so I want to get that in there."

(I've had to amend that quote to fill in the blanks where the article has redacted "spoilers" for the movie. Spoiler culture is an absolute pox, I swear. Can't have the audiences knowing about one (1) mid joke in advance—the movie barely has enough jokes to fill a "Transformers One Funny Moments" compilation as it is!)

This actually isn't the first time Hasbro has "nixed" a reference to "The Touch" in major Transformers media. In the Transformers: Cyberverse episode "The Alliance", a character references "The Touch" right before a training montage which is clearly supposed to have the track playing, except instead it's been replaced by a generic rock instrumental, presumably because they couldn't afford the license. And in Daniel Warren Johnson's Eisner-award-winning bestselling comic run, there's one panel where he clearly wanted to include the song's lyrics as a sound effect, but wasn't allowed, so the final sound effect famously reads "YOU KNOW THE SONG". But that's a random episode of a bargain-bin cartoon, and an indie-darling comic series—not a $147 million blockbuster. You really have to wonder if it came down to money, or if it was something else. God knows Transformers One would not actually be improved for having a chiptune remix of "The Touch" in it, anyway.

The most egregious misplaced bit of fanwank in the film isn't even in dialogue. In the 1986 film, there's this one iconic moment when Optimus Prime arrives at the besieged Autobot City, drives through a crowd of Decepticons in truck mode, then fires some afterburners, launching his cab up into the air, where he transforms mid-leap, drawing his blaster to shoot a couple of Decepticons before hitting the ground. It's a fantastic bit of original animation. It's the Akira slide of Transformers. And, surprise surprise, it crops up in Transformers One. In the climactic final fight, Orion Pax shows up to save Megatron, and he does the thing.

But the problem is... he's not in truck mode! The film just cuts to him standing there in the middle of some anonymous mooks, then he does a standing jump into the air, the movie momentarily goes into extreme slow-mo like he's doing a fucking quick-time event, then he shoots a couple of guys and drops to the ground. There's no momentum. It exists purely to create that simulacrum, to take the single most iconic frame from that bit of 1986 animation, and stretch that one frame into infinity. The context is discarded, irrelevant. All that matters is that brief moment of recognition: "I know what that iiis!" God knows Transformers One has precious little in the way of impactful fight animation of its own; the choreography is stiff and uninspired, while the shots themselves are nauseatingly cluttered. Often, the best it can do is pilfer from older, better stories.

"Did you clap at any of the new moments and memorable characters?" "Were there any?"

Look, I get it. Transformers One is a prequel. By definition, it can't change the future. It has to play with the characters that are already in the toybox. But I do think it had this really special opportunity: to show theatregoers where the Transformers come from. To show us Cybertron not as a distant star or a barren scrapyard, but as a living, thriving alien world, unlike Earth, something special and worth protecting in its own right. Something new and memorable. In Rise of the Beasts—probably the best Transformers movie by default—when Optimus Prime is at his lowest, he wants nothing more to return home... but home is something we've only ever seen as a cold dystopia, ruled by Decepticons. The version of Transformers One I had hoped to see was one that would have imbued Optimus' homesickness with greater meaning. I wanted to feel his loss, and to hope that one day the war will end, and Cybertron can be restored.

I think Transformers One sincerely tries to achieve this effect. The concept artists have clearly put a great deal of time and thought into Cybertron as an environment. When the artbook comes out, I'm keen to see how much stuff didn't make it into the finished film. You have to assume most of it got cut, because there's next to nothing left!

At the end of the film, battle lines are drawn, the civil war is about to start... but strangely, the movie's setting does not convey the sense that anything beautiful is being lost. Nobody is unwillingly turned to violence, innocence-lost; they're all too eager to get to killing, friggin' Bumblebee is gleeful about it. There's no beautiful, iconic landmark, which gets tragically destroyed, like in some kind of Transformers 9/11—"What have we done! Where will this war take us!". There's no part of Cybertron's natural ecological environment to be ruined by the war, because the surface world is already turbofucked by the Quintessons to begin with. No, rather, we have the total opposite: Optimus Prime finding the Matrix (which was just, like, hanging out in the core of Cybertron or whatever) actually restores Energon to the planet, removing the unnatural scarcity which was the entire impetus behind the film's dystopia. He made Cybertron great again. So again, Transformers One fails to answer one of the most fundamental questions one might expect of a Transformers prequel: "When did things on Cybertron get so bad?" The movie ends with the planet in better shape to how it started!

The big original idea that Transformers One has is that Cybertron, the planet itself, should be in a constant state of transformation. I've already talked about the beautiful shapeshifting landscapes, but it's also the moving buildings, the complicated mechanisms, the roads and rails that magically lay themselves between the vehicles and their destinations. I've already mentioned how odd I find it that none of these environmental transformations have any significance to the story; the closest it comes to some sort of payoff is when Orion Pax falls into the hole that makes you king.

What I find most perplexing are the deer. When the gang makes it to the surface, the idea is to show the natural beauty of the surface, which the cogless have been denied their whole lives. The mountains glisten as they move. Nebulae glow in the night sky. The surface is blanketed in organic (?) plantlife, like a watering can forgotten in a garden. And, most strikingly, there are deer: mechanical animals, just like those found on Earth, being hunted for sport by the evil Quintessons. When the cruisers near, their glowing horns turn red with alarm, and they prance around in fear.

I'm reminded of a brief gag from the third season of Transformers: Cyberverse—one of very few shows to have devoted any serious effort to Cybertronian worldbuilding—in the episode "Thunderhowl". Bumblebee and Chromia stumble across a "singlehorn" (read: unicorn), and when it senses danger, it neighs, transforms into a rocket, and blasts out of frame. And apart from being really cute and funny, it's like, oh, of course that's what animals are like on Cybertron! Everything on this planet transforms. Why not the animals?

For whatever reason, the deer in Transformers One are like the one thing that don't transform. Why the hell not? If Cyberverse could find the budget for its split-second sight gag, surely this blockbuster could, I don't know, have them turn into dirt bikes with antler-handlebars. That would've been something, right? If not, then at least could we maybe see some other animals on Cybertron, to really get across that alien biodiversity? Of course not. See, the deer exist to communicate one very specific story beat: a single moment of trepidation, where the heroes know there's danger nearby, but they don't know what. And all you need for that is a single kind of prey animal, with some kind of warning light to let you know, hey, there's danger! Once this purpose is fulfilled, the deer have no further significance to the story.

We need only look to BIONICLE 2: Legends of Metru Nui to see this exact same beat play out with a modicum of competence and creative flair. Also in the second act—in fact, at practically the exact same timestamp—our heroes, the Toa, have a run-in with the bad guys, and they're nearly captured... but then there's this sudden rumble of danger approaching, we don't know what. It turns out to be a herd of giant Kikanalo! They send the bad guys packing, except they nearly trample our heroes too! But then, Toa Nokama's mask begins to glow, and she discovers that her mask grants her the ability to talk to animals. They learn some vital information from the Kikanalo, and are able to ride the creatures for the next stage of their adventure. Finally, when they can go no further, the Kikanalo cave in the passage behind the heroes to ensure they won't be pursued. Holy shit, that's like, five different story beats with just that one type of creature!

It's not just that Transformers One struggles with that kind of basic narrative flow, where a single element serves multiple purposes. It's that often, it wastes precious time creating redundant setups to achieve the same effect twice.

For example, Megatronus Prime's face happens to look exactly like (what we know will be) the Decepticon insignia. At the beginning of the movie, Orion Pax mollifies Megatron by giving him a rare decal of Megatronus Prime's face. Traditionally, Megatron wears his insignia in the middle of his chest—but in this film, nearly every character has a big hole in the middle of their chest, where their missing transformation cog should go. So Megatron sticks the decal on his shoulder instead.

Later, he gets a cog, and the hole in his chest is filled. When Sentinel Prime captures Megatron, he notices the Megatronus sticker, and rips it off. Then, he re-applies it on Megatron's chest—purely so it's in the "right" place for the iconography. And then, he uses his gun to crudely brand Megatron with a tracing of Megatronus' face, inadvertently creating the Decepticon symbol. Finally, in a post-credits scene, Megatron has fashioned a proper Decepticon brand with which to brand himself and his followers. So in effect, there are four separate moments where Megatron gets the symbol! Orion sticking it on his shoulder, Sentinel moving it to his chest, Sentinel mutilating him, and finally Megatron branding himself. You can make an argument that the symbol starts out meaning one thing, but ends up meaning another thing, which has a kind of tragic significance—but I think you would struggle to distinguish subtle shades of meaning from all four of these brandings. Considering the movie only has an hour and a half to work with, I find this lack of narrative economy to be honestly embarrassing.

(My friend Jo also points out what a misstep it is to just have Megatronus Prime's face perfectly resemble the Decepticon symbol from the start. Had it been a looser, more stylised—that is to say, original—design, the moment where Sentinel Prime roughly carves it into Megatron's chest could be a shocking reveal, as the basic outlines are abstracted and simplified. Gasp, that's the origin of the Decepticon symbol! Instead, from the very moment that sticker first shows up, it's like... oh, well, there it is I guess.)

In a similar vein, both Optimus Prime and Megatron undergo two different transformations at different points in the movie: first, when Alpha Trion gives them transformation cogs, and second, when respectively they obtain the Matrix of Leadership/Megatronus' cog. The gun that sprouts from Megatron's arm in his intermediary form bears a much closer to resemblance to his iconic "fusion cannon" than the triple-barrelled cannon he ends up with in his final form. Again, in such a short film, can we really say whatever subtlety this brings to Megatron's arc is worth all this fanfare? Now, Redditors ask: "What is the EXACT moment D-16 became Megatron?"

In fact, probably the only point of criticism I've seen levied at Transformer One from within the Transformers fandom at large is that Megatron's arc is maybe a little "rushed". He starts out being best bros forever with Orion Pax, and by the end of the film, he's ready to drop the guy into a bottomless pit. The film takes a lot of time to justify his anger at Sentinel Prime, but the deterioration of his friendship with Orion goes much more unspoken, and is framed more as a point of irrationality: psychologically, Megatron comes to conflate his bossy friend with his oppressive ruler. I liked this, personally. I liked that it's as if a switch gets flipped in Megatron's head. But you do just kind of have to buy into it. The film itself does not put in the work to really sell you on the friendship souring, because again, it's too busy fucking around with two (2) magical girl transformation sequences for each of them.

Everything in the film is like this. They go into the cave and meet Alpha Trion, then leave the cave so they can watch a FMV cutscene with Sentinel Prime and the Quintessons, who've coincidentally arrived at that exact moment, basically just to rehash what they've just been told... and then they go back into the cave so Alpha Trion can resume his infodump, and then they end up clashing with Sentinel Prime's forces once that's done. At the beginning of the movie, they're at the very bottom in the mines, then they get banished to an even lower level, then they banish themselves all the way up to the surface, then they return to Iacon, and then Megatron gets banished to the surface again so he can be mesmerized by the beauty of the world and/or get gunched by Quintessons depending on what the film wanted me to take away from this. Compare to Minecraft but I survive in PARKOUR CIVILIZATION [FULL MOVIE], where the theme of class struggle is pretty efficiently depicted in the vertically-stratified setting.

I just find it so wasteful. Outside of the one scene where they're introduced, the Quintessons—ostensibly the true architects of Cybertron's oppressive status quo—may as well not exist. If not for Orion Pax addressing his closing remarks to the Quintessons, almost as an afterthought, I'd assume the film wants us to forget about them entirely, as it knows full well that its paltry runtime does not give it time for a second action-climax against the aliens. Even as sequel bait, it feels halfhearted at best; Josh Cooley is clearly already bored of Transformers, and seems unlikely to come back for another round unless the money is really really good (which *glances at the box office* it's not). So what the fuck are the Quintessons here for? Was the idea that Sentinel might just have pulled off his coup singlehandedly really so hard to stomach? Could the conspiracy not have been simplified to just involve Sentinel and his Transformer cronies? Hang on, are all the Transformers seen at the start of the film in on it, or just some of them? How's it decided who keeps their cogs and who doesn't?

VI. Into nothing

Why does this movie, where the main selling point is ostensibly that we're getting to see Transformers civilization for the first time, mostly focus on all these guys who can't fucking transform? Surely the entire thing that makes the setting fun is the Zootopia angle of, look, they're all different animals! Or the Elemental angle of, look, they're all different elements! Or the Emoji Movie angle of, look, they're all different emoji! Or the Cars angle of, look, they're all different cars! This is a Transformers film which features several significant sequences involving these cool trains, and there is absolutely zero indication that these trains are themselves Transformers. This is a Transformers film which extensively focuses on miners, and none of them transform into mining vehicles; they're holding, friggin', space jackhammers. Even the premise of "isn't it sad that these ones can't transform" is kind of undercut by the fact that all the miners get to wear fucking jetpacks, which is a frankly much cooler and more effective method of locomotion than driving.

I'm just sick of Transformers stories having zero interest in the basic premise of Transformers, which is to say, they transform into something. I also think this is the biggest dissonance between casual audiences, who think "oh yeah, Optimus Prime, that guy who turns into a truck", and Transformers fans, who think, "oh yeah, Optimus Prime, the messiah or something". Normal people love to know what the Transformers turn into. They ask, "Wait, is there a Transformer that turns into [insert silly vehicle here]?" Of course people are interested in that angle! Vehicles are such a huge part of our daily lives—honestly, for those of us living in cities, more so than animals, the classical elements, or emoji—but the closest Transformers One comes to engaging with this lens is that aforementioned Iacon 5000 race sequence. By and large, it presents a world which is made for standing up and walking around. And personally I do think that's an insane approach to take?

Is the excuse that cars can't emote? Nonsense. If you've ever seen a traffic jam, you'll know that cars can sure as hell emote. Pixar, where Josh Cooley cut his teeth, famously spent a lot of time working out how to put a facial expression on a car. No, the problem dates back to the very start of the franchise.

In the 1980s, two main people were responsible for writing the comic stories: American writer Bob Budiansky, and British writer Simon Furman. Budiansky approached the premise of the franchise from an external, human perspective, writing about culture clash, and taking delight in the Transformers' mechanical alien nature as "robots in disguise". Meanwhile, Furman wrote the Transformers as giant people: he focused on their own internal conflicts and motivations, and the grand history of their war. Pretty much every Transformers story ever told can be boiled down to one of these schools of thought: Budianskyist, or Furmanist.

Budiansky quit the comic after fifty issues, allowing Furman to take the reigns as sole writer, and Furman basically got the final word on what the Transformers are. They did not evolve from naturally-occurring gears, levers and pulleys. They were not designed by a supercomputer, or built by an alien race. They are the chosen sons of God. The Thirteen are, of course, an invention of Furman's. And Transformers One is perhaps the most Furmanist story ever told. It's the culmination of years and years of lore building up, ossifying into something you can no longer describe as the history of a universe—no, this is a mythology. It's the most perfect form of brand alignment imaginable: this is not an origin story, this is the origin story. It's been the origin story for a better part of the decade—and now that everyone's seen it in theatres, it will be the origin story forever.

It's not just the fiction, either, by the way. These days, if you go into the store to buy a Transformers toy, chances are it'll turn into some misshapen made-up futuristic concept car with unpainted windows and wheels that don't even roll—and that's terrible.

There's truly a lot to hate about Michael Bay's Transformers films, but with each new entry that's released following his departure from the franchise, I feel like I only find myself appreciating them more. In the 2007 Transformers movie, we see the Transformers crash-landing on Earth in their "protoforms", and their movements are animated like they're shy, like they're naked until they scan an Earth vehicle and adopt a disguise. The visual impact of Megatron, meanwhile, is that he doesn't adopt a disguise in that movie: he's a horrible metal skeleton that turns into a jet made of knives. It's weird and alien and it rules.

In the 1980s Transformers cartoon, and in the last-minute Cybertron-set prologue added to Bumblebee, and now in Transformers One, the Transformers look basically the same on Cybertron as they eventually do upon their arrival to Earth. Optimus Prime turns, unmistakably, into a truck. He has windows on his chest, and smokestacks on his arms. He doesn't have these features because he disguises himself as an Earth truck. He has those details because that's just what Optimus Prime looks like. They're his "essential brand elements", or "trademark details", which "identify the must-have elements in character design to be carried across all creative expressions". Prime may take any form he wishes, so long as it looks exactly like himself. A mask of my own face—I'd wear that.

What I find fucked up about the reception towards Transformers One is that a lot of people seemed very invested in its success—and not its popular success, certainly not its artistic success, but rather its commercial success. They wanted this to be the first film to make one bumblebillion dollars. They wanted Hasbro to line its fucking pockets and make movies like this forever. So if you express any kind of negativity towards this film online, which might theoretically affect some other person's decision of whether or not to go and see it, which might theoretically affect the profit it makes at the cinema, which might theoretically affect the future of the franchise in some unknown way, then you're some sort of fandom traitor who oughta be executed.

If you're so worried about the future of the franchise, the fandom really isn't where you should be looking. Like, c'mon, the Transformers fandom has been good as gold, we buy so many toys. Meanwhile, Hasbro just got finished laying off around 100 employees with no warning to make their books look a bit better. Transformers designer John Warden—who'd worked at Hasbro for 25 years, is widely credited with inventing the modern paradigm of Transformers toylines, and ultimately became the creative director of both Transformers and G.I. Joe—was on assignment to a convention in the UK with the rest of the Transformers team when he heard the news. Suffice to say, he did not end up making a public appearance at the convention. With his work's health insurance snatched away without notice, he's had to resort to crowdfunding to pay his family's medical bills. As a well-known figure in the toy industry, he will presumably find a new job and land on his feet, but the same cannot be said for all 99 of the remaining employees we're told have been unceremoniously dumped.

The Binder of Revelation, which has been something of a holy grail of behind-the-scenes material for over a decade, has finally been leaked—presumably by one of these guys, presumably out of spite.

Now, I'm not going to pretend to have been paying particularly close attention to Hasbro's financials, but from where I'm sitting, it sure seems that ever since the sudden death of then-CEO Brian Goldner in 2021—credited for saving the company in 2000, and overseeing the explosive growth of its intellectual property ever since then—his replacement, Chris P. Cocks (or "Crispy Cocks", as we're all now calling him), has been dead set on gutting the company for all it's worth. The Power Rangers franchise, which the company acquired for $522 million in 2018, is dead in the water, with huge quantities of physical assets being flogged at auction for quick cash. In 2019, they acquired the entertainment company eOne for $4.0 billion, and now they're selling off the whole shebang (except the cash-printing Peppa Pig franchise) for just $500 million. I guess maybe they just fucked it big style?

Because now, Crispy Cocks has proudly announced that Hasbro is going to stop financing movies altogether.

I'm sure that in the wake of this announcement, many of those aforementioned fandom pundits will be drawing a correlation between this announcement, and the box-office figures for Transformers One, and the fact that you personally failed to convince your Mom to go see it with you or whatever. "Ah, you see! They didn't make enough of their money back, and now they're consolidating. Simple economic cause and effect. Market forces." And look, I'm not going to sit here and claim these things are wholly unrelated. Of course they're very related. But I am going to make the case that, in truth, nobody at Hasbro really cared how Transformers One did. Unless it turned out to be some pie-in-the-sky runaway hit, I don't think the future of the Transformers film franchise would've been particularly different if only the film had done better.

With Paramount, Hasbro has been making these movies and having them underperform ever since 2017's The Last Knight—which apparently lost Paramount $100 million—and that's because at the end of the day, what they're most interested in isn't making movies. It's making toy commercials. And on that level, the Transformers films have clearly been a success so far.

Now, Crispy Cocks' skinsuit fashions itself as a gamer, so he can personify Hasbro's hardcore pivot towards digital and tabletop gaming. While we await the release of the assuredly-dogshit, assuredly-hell-to-have-worked-on, assuredly-never-coming-out Transformers: Reactivate, the brand has been whored out to a procession of mobile games you've never heard of, glorified gambling machines designed to hack the monkey part of your brain with bright colors and Things You Recognize. The exact content of these games is irrelevant; all that matters is the announcement, on every single pop culture news outlet simultaneously (naturally—they're all owned by the same company, talk about Monopoly), of New Collaboration Between Transformers And Goon Warriors Free To Download Now. Your daily, weekly, bi-annual reminder to think about that thing you can buy.

That's all any of this stuff is.

All these words spilled about what a good movie Transformers One is, and how bad it is, and why the marketing failed it, and what the next one might be like, and- none of it mattered! It does not matter. From the beginning, this movie was always going to be too preoccupied with its own mercenary interests to be something anyone would ever be able to seriously talk about as a work of art, even corporate art. The actual content of the movie is irrelevant; I've spent very little of this review talking about it, because there's nothing there to talk about. It is the mere fact of the movie's existence that serves its purpose. Like the Optimus Prime Fortnite skin, it's enough for it to occupy our attention.

Maybe that's why they staggered the film's release date: because some marketing exec watched the rough cut and realised, if everyone saw it at once, we'd be done talking about it within a fortnight. And in ten years' time, after it has been paraded around whichever streaming services survive 'til then, and nearly every last cent of revenue has been squeezed out of it, the kids will be able to watch it on YouTube with ad breaks, and decide what they want for Christmas.

To the Transformers fans reading this, I am begging you, unless you happen to own shares in Hasbro for some fucking reason, to disabuse yourself of the feeling that you owe any kind of loyalty to a toy franchise. It shouldn't matter to you one jot how Transformers One did in theatres. The people who actually make the product you care about, the friendly faces paraded before you on livestreams and press tours, don't see this money anyway—they too are merely assets, who can be fired and replaced with cheaper, inferior equivalents.

I'm sure many of you will have, from the very start, seen this review for the foolish endeavour it is. I've wasted all this time criticising Transformers One for its lack of artistic vision, when the truth is, Transformers One is playing an entirely different game. Like the Disney Channel running "Fishy Facts!" segments to subliminally get kids interested in fish a full year and a half before the release of Finding Nemo, this is not a product—it's an ad for a product.

...

Okay I'll be honest, I don't entirely love where this review has ended up. It ends on kind of a "bummer note", I guess you could say. Flashing back to sections I. and II., I feel like things started out so fun. We had that whole bit at the start where I was telling you about the Transformers, remember that? We learned so much together. And there were even a few moments where I was able to express some kind of sincere joy and appreciation over this thing that I supposedly adore so much. Sure, I did a lot of complaining, but it was fun complaining, right? It had like, a sarcastic edge to it, sort of.

What happened? Why am I suddenly talking like I want to cut someone's head off? As I grow more bitter, I type this essay with increasing difficulty. The massive gun that's sprouted from my forearm keeps colliding with my monitor.

Hasbro descends from on high to reward @TFHypeGuy, a grown-ass adult who has spent untold unpaid hours fearlessly replying to every single viral tweet to tell people to go see the film, somehow netting himself 80,000 followers in the process, with a crate of toys, which was probably his end goal from the start. He and I duel. We trade blow after blow. Finally, he clobbers me with a Walmart-exclusive light-up Ultimate Energon Optimus Prime figure. "It didn't have to end this way," he says. Then he banishes me to the surface world to think on my sins.

VII. The Wrong Trousers 👖 | Train Chase Scene 🚂 | Wallace & Gromit

When Eric Pearson came onto the project,

It was late middle of the game. They had a script that had the outline of the story, which is still very much the structural bones of the story now. But what I found interesting about animation is there are certain things that were far along in the process. The train escape to the surface was very far along, so that was just kind of locked. Maybe you could change a line here or there. Meanwhile, the opening, the whole first 10 minutes, was all storyboards and sketches, which changed a bunch of times.

And I do think that's a really difficult position for a scriptwriter to be in. Sure, the parts of the screenplay I feel able to attribute to Pearson, I wasn't particularly impressed by. But I think this anecdote goes to show how unnatural the constraints can be on a story like this. When you think of like, a scene that's key to Transformers One, you're probably imagining something like the Megatron/Optimus fight, or the scene in the mine—not the train scene, which is basically a bit of arbitrary connective tissue bridging the two main locations in the film.

Josh Cooley, the film's director, the face of the film on the press circuit from a creative standpoint, came onboard after five years of previous development work was already done. Writers Andrew Barrer and Gabriel Ferrari, who originally pitched the film and presumably wrote the early drafts of the story, might have already left the project by that point. Aaron Archer and Rik Alvarez, the creative forces behind the Binder of Revelation, left Hasbro years before the film was even pitched. It's no wonder to me that the final result feels incoherent, disjointed, and oddly stilted. It's certainly no wonder that nobody at Hasbro today really seems to care about the film; it's not their baby. If any of the people credited with bringing the project to completion had been given full creative freedom to make whatever Transformers movie they wanted, it would've looked completely different.

Luckily, there are still plenty of areas of the franchise where creators have just been allowed to go ham. Over in Japan, TRIGGER has taken a modest budget for a music-video and produced one of the most visually-striking bits of animation in the franchise, a true love-letter to all the weird parts of its forty-year history. And in America, comic creator Daniel Warren Johnson is halfway through his Eisner-winning new run on the title, which is the kind of thing I would basically recommend to anyone without caveats as being a phenomenal story, period. If that comic can be said to be an advert for anything, it's for Skybound's other, nowhere-near-as-good comic series, or for the unofficial unlicensed copyright-infringing Magic Square Optimus Prime toy Daniel Warren Johnson apparently used as reference the whole time.

I dunno, maybe Hasbro stepping back from financing these films is a good thing, in the long run. Maybe we can do without Transformers movies for a while. And however many years down the line, maybe Paramount or some other studio will put together a new team of talent, and they'll get to do whatever it is they want. And maybe the movie they make will be the one that knocks everyone's socks off.

Truly, I don't know where the road leads from here. It hasn't been built yet. It could turn out to go anywhere.

If you made it this far, I hope some of what I've said has been entertaining or interesting. Thanks for reading!

Time to for me to come clean. There is one other reason why I've waited so long to release this review... and that's because I have a special announcement to make. Last month I set myself a little challenge: to write something that's at least as long as this review, but which isn't another negative-nancy tirade. It's a story.

The working title is "Ice Road Transformers". It's like an episode of that one reality TV show about Canadians driving trucks across frozen lakes—except the truck is Optimus Prime.

Early reviews say it's good! It'll be going through several rounds of revisions, to turn it into a well-oiled machine, hopefully in time for a seasonally-appropriate wide release in February. I'm very excited for you to be able to read it. You can follow me here or on Bluesky to be the first to find out when it's ready!

I'd like to thank my friends Jo and Umar for their work interviewing Cooley and di Bonaventura during the film's press circuit, along with Viv, Callum, and Omar for allowing me to enjoy this film much more than I otherwise might have. I wouldn't have been able to express many of my feelings about this movie nearly so cogently if not for the conversations I had with them. Additional thanks go to Chris McFeely, as his Transformers: The Basics videos (linked throughout this essay) refreshed my memory on a lot of the Aligned stuff, sparing me from having to read The Covenant of Primus again.

[the-froschamethyst4]

How To Stop an Argument 101

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Husband! Barrage Headcannon

SFW & NSFW

Quick AN: I would like to say in my first Barrage fic I placed the name Cal/Calvin in it because that is what I’ll be calling Barrage as his first name, there isn’t much info on him so I decided that his name will be Calvin or Cal for short

————

————

SFW

He knows exactly what he is doing when it comes to “distracting” from the issue at hand

Recently you were under a lot of stress with work and the holidays coming up so quickly that you just needed some help from Barrage but he wasn’t pulling his end of the deal and making some things worse

You were in front of the tree trying to wrap presents for him and some family members that were coming over for the holidays but he was being no help

Watching the game on TV, being loud, and drinking beer while you wanted to watch a Christmas movie to be in the mood

“Cal, please turn it down.”

“Hon, I can’t hear what they are saying though.”

“We have a basement you can turn the TV up as loud as you want down there, I’m too overstimulated.” You say while trying to not pull your hair out.

“There’s only a few minutes of the game then I’ll go downstairs.”

“No, Cal…please do it now, I can’t think.” You say putting your hands on the side of your head.

Barrage sees that and turns the TV off and with no other word goes downstairs. He doesn’t want you to burst and there because more then just a simple discussion

You thank him but he just hums a response back to you.

That was just one out of many possible arguments that could have happen.

There’s been many days where Barrage just doesn’t take it seriously and starts pushing buttons

“Cal! Have you seen my necklace? I’ve been looking for hours now!” You call from upstairs.

The necklace was special, it was real pearls and real gold, your grandmother gave to you before she passed and you loved that necklace wore it any chance you got and tonight was a holiday party at your work but you couldn’t find the damn thing anywhere

“No!” He calls from downstairs. The overwhelming sensation of you possibly have finally lost it hit you and now you’re starting to get a little pissed off now, because you always say it in the same spot.

In your jewelry box on a small hook that only it sat on, no other necklace

You even went and checked the bathroom drawers just in case but nothing

“CAL! PLEASE COME HELP ME FIND IT!!” You yelled getting frustrated

“Hon, it’s just a necklace.” He says coming into the bedroom.

“It is not just a necklace it’s my most prized possession, and I know I didn’t just loose it, I place it back in my jewelry box every time I’m done wearing it, so where the fuck is it?!” You start slamming drawers now.

“Well, don’t break everything just to find this damn necklace.”

“Then help me!” You turn, red to the face and eyes looking like you’re about to cry.

“Hon, don’t cry-“

“Don’t tell me not to cry cause I will!”

You fall on the bed head in your hands, Barrage knew where the necklace was. He opens his nightstand drawer and pulled out the necklace.

“Here.”

“You had it!?”

“I got it polished for you. You know how the creases had that black stuff in it?”

“Yeah?”

“I got it polished and I was going to give it to you, later, but now is fine, sorry for hiding it.”

“It’s okay,” the tears stopped and all there was sniffling in the bedroom. “C-Can you put it on me?”

“Sure, hon.”

Arguments happen but the one thing Barrage kind of likes doing when he knows he’s in the wrong is flex, flexing his big muscles he worked hard on

“No, you’re wrong!”

“How am I wrong?”

“You really wanna sit an argue or are you going to shut up and let me talk?”

“Shut up?” Barrage leans back on the couch flexing his arms that were behind his head.

“Stop that.”

“Stop what?” He smirks

“S-Stop flexing.”

“I’m not flexing. I’m just relaxing.” He says

“…” you couldn’t look away, you love them too, the way he can just pick you up with ease, how when you two have sex you claw at them sometimes breaking skin

“Fuck off,” you say walking away knowing he won that argument but he knows he was wrong

When you start getting a big heated and you start throwing out the bro, dude, bruh words

“Dude I swear to god if you-“

“Did you just ‘dude’ me?” He says

“Yeah and?”

“We have sex…you really wanna be throwing the word dude around?”

NSFW

Having an argument in the middle of sex just turns Barrage on even more.

This man is fucking toxic

He could start an argument over nothing then ask if you’re down for sex afterwards

Honestly thinks it's funny when you rant about your rough and hard day as he goes down on you and you can't think straight because his tongue and mouth feels good on your lower half

When Barrage comes home from work, he'll sometimes be surprised you stayed up to wait for him, only for him to now take his frustrations out on you, while he rants about his day, now

Does he start random arguments? Yes. One day he started one when he came home to no dinner on the table, and express how he would like to have dinner on the table before he comes home, he was smirking the whole time knowing you hate the trad wife bullshit

So, he knows what he is doing

"Ex-fucking-cuse me?" You say, hands on your hips, fury burning in your eyes, and knuckles turning white.

"You heard me woman, I want food on this table by the time I get home," he says.

"Fuck you, now! You get to fix your own damn food for now on, I'll be fixing my food while you figure out how the stove works." As you tun your wrist gets grabbed just for you to be bent over the kitchen table, and you feel his hard dick

"I'm only kidding, hon," he teases.

You hate when Barrage leaves his clothes all over the place, but he does it only to get a good view of his wife being bent over

"Calvin, pick up your clothes, how many times am I going to tell you? We don't live in a pigsty."

"How many times are you going to keep picking up my clothes to realize I'm only doing it to get a clear view of your ass?" He says, you stop and drop his clothes. "Hey."

"Pick up your clothes," she says.

Y/n can start arguments as well, if anything, you both are toxic for each other but you both don't care, you both know you complete each other.

Y/n fixed food for Barrage bring it to him in his home office setting it down on a clear spot and gives him a kiss on the cheek, and then one on his temple, then one on his forehead, neck, cheek again, and then lips.

"Hon, what are you doing?"

"Just kissing you," you tell him as your hands start teasing him, messing with his shirt, then to his belt, getting it unbuckled and then moving your hand before walking out.

"Oh damn, I forgot, I have some chores to do around the house," you say, blue balling your husband.

"You fucking, minx," he growls.

You loved teasing him, I mean the bastard does the same shit to you, why not do it back? You're not hurting anything...maybe his pride, but he'll be okay

"Fuck baby." Barrage held your waist, you bend over his desk, the food wasn't even on his mind anymore, it was how good he was going to fuck you, how good he was going to make you feel

"C-Cal, s-slow down-"

"No, you don't get to make demands here, you teased me and now this is what you get," he says.

[sunshineandspencer]

Cowboy hat rule (Tyler Owens, Twisters)

A/N: Take a guess, what movie do you think I watched recently? I’ll give you a hint, it wasn’t Deadpool and Wolverine (I also watched that, but I preferred the man with the swirly winds).

Pairing: Tyler Owens x Fem!Reader.

Summary: In between butting heads with Javi’s team and running a successful YouTube channel based entirely around tornadoes, Tyler Owens is introduced to the most interesting woman he’s seen in a good while - and her sister.

Word Count: 521

Warnings: fluff, kind of suggestive (cowboy hat rule), drinking and minor worries of drink being spiked but it doesn't happen we’re all okay here, very limited knowledge of America (I’m English).

Parts: Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

I have redone the form for the taglist now that I’m apparently expanding from Criminal Minds

How she ended up drinking with them, she had no idea. But anything was better than dealing with her sister pretending not to make goo-goo eyes at Javi.

Now, she’s up on the top of Tyler’s truck, drinking a shit beer with a peeling label and questioning whether or not these people would drug her. 

The bloke with the camera seems alright, and the tornado wrangler was more focused on whatever he’s messing with than her. 

One of the girls, Lily- maybe, tapped her legs, grinning up at her. 

“So~ which part of New York are you from?”

Maybe the beer is drugged, maybe it’s turning her senses to mush. Or maybe it’s been too long since she had piss-poor beer and decent company.

“Alpine.”

Lily - again, maybe - blinked up at her and then laughed, standing up on the side of the truck to smack the side of her thigh playfully.

Not only that, but Mr Tall, Plaid and Dangerous finally looked up. 

“Come on— even I know that’s in Texas.”

“And that’s where I’m from, Alpine, Texas. I hide the twang, I’ve been too many guy’s fantasies in bars that it’s just easier.”

Giving a wink before swigging the last of her beer. Feeling a tap on her shoulder, she leant back on her forearms, making sure she didn’t lie back on anything. 

Tyler was grinning at her, that stupid grin that pairs a little too well with that cowboy hat for her fuzzy brain to think straight. 

“Not a city girl?”

“Uh huh, daddy ran a ranch, grew up schooling cowboys like you. You’re no different.”

He seemed impressed by that; maybe not impressed. Just marginally more interested now he knows they aren’t a pair of bored blonde women from the city come to chase the storms with the fancy company. 

Nothing worse than someone who doesn’t actually respect the weather they’re chasing - that’s how people die. 

“Me? How am I no different then, Alpine?”

Humming, she passed him her empty bottle, which he took without questioning it. Eyes somehow glittering beneath the brim of that hat. 

She needs that hat, before his eyes, his smile and his goddamn cologne do her in.

“You steal something near and dear to them- make them pay real close attention to you.”

Managing to swipe the hat from his head and place it firmly on her own, fighting the smug grin on her face. 

She knows that he knows that she knows exactly what that means.

Can’t claim ignorance now, she made it loud and clear that this is not her first rodeo. He may wrangle tornadoes, but what the hell is he supposed to do when a gorgeous woman steals his hat and pushes away. 

Getting Lily to help her down and then swinging an arm over her shoulders. 

“Let’s go find more beers, Lils, I love your shirt by the way.”

Turning back around to grin at him as Lily starts talking. Flicking the brim of the cap up so that he could see the way her eyebrow raised in challenge. 

Oh yeah, he definitely has a favourite sister now.

Want more?! Good!

[oldmanjenkins985]

So, I wanted to talk about something since MD Twitter in particular seems to be having some issues with a current trend in the MD fandom. That being the Panic AU by @candyasbestos (apologies in advance for the ping, just felt like maybe you'd wanna see this)

So I'd like to start right off the bat by saying anyone who is uncomfortable with this AU is completely reasonable for being that way. It's more so that uncomfortableness leading to disdain for the AU that I wanna talk about.

So, I'm a horror fan. I watch plenty of things on horror movies and play plenty of horror games. And what exactly does horror media try and do? Make the player horrified and uncomfortable. Seeing grotesque imagery which may make you wanna vomit. One of the games that comes to mind for something that's definitely meant to make people uncomfortable and not just scared is Fear & Hunger. It's a game with incredibly uncomfortable imagery, sometimes due to gore and other times due to sexual themes. And it's perfectly reasonable for that to turn people off, yet I've never seen anyone have the kind of reaction to stuff like that compared to the reactions some people have had to the Panic AU

And that's the thing with the Panic AU, it makes *N* uncomfortable. Uncomfortable with himself due to Nyx's influence on him. That is the entire point of the AU it seems. And Nyx himself seems to be some kind of representation of mental illness (pretty standard horror trope, I know). I'm not an expert in the subject despite dealing with it quite a bit so I won't name any specific mental illnesses it could be, but it's clear to me Nyx is some kind of urge of N's.

I've made plenty of characters like Nyx for my original works that are also meant to be representations of mental illness. Voices that whisper to you to do terrible things, creatures that make you feel worthless and shut down, etc. I make these not only because I find them scary but also as reflections of my own experience with mental illness. And it's that first point again that makes me question people's reactions to it.

People have said "It's grossly out of character for N" and stuff like that which...honestly that makes me think they only saw the initial wave of art and don't really know how N feels about the whole situation. But the other thing is that so many AUs have intentionally mischaracterized N because of what the AU is. And I'm not talking just swap AUs, I've seen plenty where N's character is wildly different because of the circumstances of the AU. And I see the Panic AU no different.

I also saw another comment of someone saying "We shouldn't normalize behavior like this" and again, I question whether the person has actually researched the thing they're talking about. Nyx, the thing that makes everyone uncomfortable, is very clearly the *villain* of the AU. He killed Uzi, he wants N to kill Thad, he's a horrid little creature. Are villains not meant to do things we disdain? Murder, torture, etc. It's prefectly understandable these things would make people uncomfortable, but isn't that what many villains do? There's plenty of media with torture scenes in them which make people uncomfortable, but that's the point! Hell, some kid shows have torture scenes. What about the Lich's design from Adventure Time? He's a rotting corpse! In a kid show! His design is clearly meant to make the viewer uncomfortable.

So again, while I don't think anyone is in the wrong for being uncomfortable due to the AU, I think many of the criticisms are unfair. A piece of media which is specifically designed to make people uncomfortable should not be criticized for that very reason. Avoid it all you want, that's completely reasonable! Never feel like your reasons for being uncomfortable are unwarrented. But I'm just saying that if you were to critique Silent Hill because it's themes of mental illness and character depictions made you uncomfortable, and that was a *negative*, it just seems a little weird to me.

This is all just my opinion, obviously I'm not THE definitive person on the matter. And I'm not saying anyone who has the AU blocked or anything should check it out. I'm just saying, many people seem to be judging it unfairly.

[loveinhawkins]

Steve knows that it’s Eddie from the way the RV door sticks awkwardly before it opens, which makes him smile. The guy can break in and hotwire the thing, as smooth as you like, but then apparently turns into a klutz as soon as the pressure’s gone.

Eddie doesn’t notice that he’s inside at first, seems more focused on tying a few makeshift spears together with string so they don’t fall about the place. It’s only when he looks up, does a double take and says, amused, “Sorry, didn’t realise I was interrupting something,” that Steve remembers he isn’t exactly cutting a fine figure right now.

To put it bluntly, he’s currently hunched over, sat at the little table, eating canned frosting with a teaspoon.

“What are you even…?” Eddie sits down opposite him, peers closer and sees the label on the can. “Harrington,” he says, like someone reading out orders of execution, “that’s fucking gross.”

“Hey, I found it sealed in the cupboard, it’s not expired. And it’s chocolate, man,” Steve defends.

A pause. “Can I have some?”

Steve laughs. “Sure.”

He finds another teaspoon, moves the frosting so it rests in between them. Smiles when Eddie knocks their spoons together, like they’re sharing wine instead.

They sit in comfortable silence. Steve has the sudden thought that if it wasn’t for the impending everything, he could pretend like it’s a lazy Saturday, where they’re free to do harmless, juvenile things, like just watching movies all day. Like sharing frosting out of the can.

“God, you’re so unbothered by all this, aren’t you?” Eddie says around his spoon, which makes Steve suspect that perhaps their thoughts aren’t exactly aligned at the moment. “Steve Harrington. Mister Cool.”

He says it softly, a little like Robin had—and Jesus, Steve thinks, did everyone in school have such an idea of him?

“Unbothered, meaning?”

Eddie shrugs. “Alternate dimension. Real life monsters. Uh, I dunno, the potential end of the world? Take your pick, man.”

Steve thinks for a little while, scrapes the bottom of the can repeatedly even though they’ve already eaten it all.

He doesn’t know how to say that over the years, fear has become normal, a reassuring background noise. It’s when he doesn’t feel it that he’s really, truly scared shitless.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Steve says, “I think we all just got so used to it, that—”

“Yeah, that doesn’t make me feel better,” Eddie interrupts with a huff of a laugh. “If I think about it for too long, I might actually cry for you all, Steve.”

“Nah, don’t do that,” Steve says lightly—though he thinks that a part of Eddie really means it. “It’s more like… like I’m a duck, y’know? Calm on the surface, but…” He drums on the table in demonstration. “Freaking out underneath.”

Eddie’s looking at him with a little smile Steve thinks he hasn’t quite seen before—almost like he’s charmed.

He wonders just how many smiles Eddie Munson has. Wants to have enough time to find out.

“And you’re like an upside down duck,” Steve says, matter-of-fact.

Eddie snorts—another smile, wide and bright. “Excuse me?”

“Like, you might think you’re freaking out on the surface, but underneath, when it comes down to it, you’ll be…” Steve moves his hand in a straight line, imitating a duck calmly gliding along.

Eddie shakes his head. “Think you’ve got too much faith in me.”

And sure, it’s said like it’s a joke, but Steve holds his gaze when he replies seriously, “No, I don’t think so.”

You think I’d trust Dustin with just anyone? I saw you pull him back from the edge of the lake. That’s all I need to know.

Eddie glances away almost like he can see Steve’s thoughts dancing in front of him, as if the honesty is too much to witness.

“Plus you’re, like, my guide for what’s a normal reaction to all of this shit. You’re good for us, man. Keeps us grounded.”

Eddie laughs again. “Christ, I’m the guide for what’s normal. God help us all.” He drops his spoon into the empty can with a clatter. “It’s getting late. We’d better, uh. Round up the troops.”

He stands up, shuffles out from the table.

And Steve finds himself standing, too, with the sudden fear that he’s watching a window close before him.

He reaches for Eddie’s wrist—just two fingers, barely a touch—and Eddie turns to him immediately.

“Hey, Eddie, you’re—you’re good with them, y’know? The kids.” Steve laughs quietly. “God, they’d be… scared far sooner without you. When you were messing around with Dustin, and… Jesus, it’s the most I’ve seen Max laugh in a… in a while.”

Eddie’s smile turns gentle. “Nah, man. Any fool could do that.”

“No,” Steve says.

No, don’t you get it? Only you could. We’re all… we’re better with you, happier with you. I wouldn’t want to do this with anyone else. Please fucking understand how important you are.

You matter.

Eddie’s eyes flicker across Steve’s face. Like he’s understood without Steve having to say a word.

“Careful there, Harrington,” he murmurs.

Steve’s suddenly aware that he still has one finger on Eddie’s wrist. “What?”

Eddie stares at him. Shrugs with one shoulder, but it’s slow. Thoughtful.

“Just thought I’d get ahead of you, in case…”

“In case?”

“I don’t know,” Eddie says, abruptly sounds a little breathless. “Could be the end of the world, right? And you’re…” He glances over at the frosting can, smirks slightly. “You’re kinda under the influence. Don’t want you saying anything you wouldn’t mean in any, uh, normal circumstances.”

Fuck normal. This is my normal.

“And what if I meant it?” Steve says.

Eddie swallows. Calm on the surface.

“If you’re sure,” Eddie says slowly, eyes never leaving Steve’s face. “Then… go ahead.”

Steve steps closer.

Kisses him.

Eddie’s mouth tastes sweet from the frosting. Steve can feel it when he laughs, can feel him shaking from where he’s leaning up against the edge of the table.

He pulls back. “You okay?”

Eddie’s smile is tremulous, like he’s one second away from crying.

“Freaking out,” he says, but he pulls Steve in for another kiss, so Steve knows he’s not referring to…

“Yeah,” Steve admits. “Yeah, me too.”

Eddie laughs breathily, and the sound is enough to finally drown out the background buzz of terror. He’s so close Steve can count every eyelash.

“You’d never know, Steve.”

“Think this—” A last kiss, pressed to the corner of Eddie’s mouth. “Think this is the most scared I’ve ever been.”

“Me too,” Eddie echoes.

And just before he pulls Steve along, just before he opens the RV door and calls for everyone, he leans in close, whispers against Steve’s lips:

“Worth it.”