#Movie Poster Mock Up

[dat2ndaccount97]

If I told you this was a concept poster for a cancelled early 90s Live Action Barbie Movie, would you believe me?

[goodphantomoftheoperaposts]

Me this morning: Boy oh boy! I can't wait to get started on the cover art for my Phantom retelling! Maybe I'll even get it done by tonight!

My progress 8 hours later:

[cowbell-ghuleh]

IDK why I drew this it seemed like a good idea at the time XD

On my mock movie poster thing again. Going for B movie slasher vibes. And I wanted to do another limited colour picture.

Close ups below the cut.

[chelseacult]

While You Were Sleeping

Aitana Bonmatí x Reader

Summary: post-movie date shenanigans

Word Count: 1.3k

The theater brightens as the ending credits roll. You begin to stir awake at the feeling of a gentle hand combing through your hair. Attempting to ignore all of the signs pointing toward your needing to get up, you nuzzle further into the plush leather seat. You feel movement in the seat next to you, followed by the press of soft lips against your forehead.  

“You missed the ending,” Aitana whispers quietly. You feel her smile against your forehead before pulling back a sliver, still hovering. The continuous movement of her fingers in your hair aids only in increasing your desire to fall back asleep. 

“Mmm. You should’ve woken me up,” you whisper back, tiredness evident in your voice. Her hand switches paths and moves to rest on your cheek, her thumb moving softly against your skin. 

“It is okay. I explain to you later.” She’s still speaking quietly as if trying not to startle you. You open your eyes to the sight of her smiling down at you. Her smile brightens when you give her a tired smile in return. 

“Bon dia, preciosa. Good sleep?” You nod, and your eyes flutter shut unconsciously. She makes a noise of disapproval, “Vinga, we need to go. They clean now.” She pulls away from you and stands up from her seat before turning to you. She raises an eyebrow when you make no move to stand up.

You sit up in your seat and reach out a hand towards her, wiggling your fingers, silently asking her to help you up. She rolls her eyes with a small smile and grasps your hand. Before she can attempt to help you up, you use your tangled fingers to pull her into you. She lets out a noise that sounds like a mix between a gasp and a laugh. Her free hand moves back to its rightful place in your hair while your arms wrap around her waist, grasping her shirt lightly. 

“I missed you,” you mumble before pecking her lips several times and pulling back.

“Cómo? I was here,” she laughs. She looks at you lovingly and starts to twirl a piece of your hair around her finger.

“You weren’t in my dream, so I missed you.” She laughs again and shakes her head before leaning forward to capture your lips again, a bit slower this time. You squeeze her hand lightly before she pulls away far too soon for your liking, leaving you to chase after her lips.

“I missed you too. And I miss how you talk during the movie,” she teases. You mock gasp and open your mouth to reply before the sounds of rolling carts and footsteps cut you off. Before you can even fully comprehend what you’re hearing, Aitana grabs your free hand and pulls you up, leading you both to the exit. “Mira! I told you. They clean.” 

“Takes two to tango, baby.” You let go of her hand despite her protest and rush to open the theater door for her. 

“You do not dance,” she responds with a slight pout, stopping to stand in front of you. 

You stifle a laugh and gesture outside the door. She ignores your silent request and steps closer to you instead. “You do not!” she reiterates. You ignore her retort and smile at her, making no effort to hide the admiration in your eyes. The corners of her mouth turn up into a small smile, matching adoration present in her eyes. You tuck a piece of hair behind her ear, and she leans into your touch. 

“You’re cute,” you say softly before leaning forward to press a quick kiss to her cheek. You gently push her out into the hallway before she can reply.

The faint smell of old popcorn and burnt butter takes over your senses as you walk past the concession stand. That, and the feeling of your girlfriend grabbing your hand. “We should see that next!” she gestures excitedly toward a horror movie poster.

“So you can hide in my shoulder the whole time?” you tease her with a smile. She blushes slightly before bumping her shoulder into yours. “No.” 

“Yes,” you press and bump her shoulder back.

“No. Only at home. The theater has a barrier, so I cannot reach you.” 

You chuckle lightly. “You’ll find a way. I have faith in you.” She drops your hand with a roll of her eyes and walks ahead to open the exit door for you, reversing the roles from earlier. 

“Mi amor,” she nods, a big smile on her face as she stands there holding the door. You smile back at her with a tilt of your head before thanking her. You walk out of the building, Aitana not far behind you. A chill takes over your body as a gust of wind comes by. 

“Told you so,” she quips from behind you, laughing affectionately under her breath. You open your mouth to reply but stop yourself upon feeling her touch on your shoulders. Her hands begin to follow a steady path up and down your arms, attempting to warm you up. The sweetness of the gesture causes warmth to swarm through your body, even more so than the gesture itself.

“Helping?” The smirk is evident in her voice. You hum in approval. “Remember I told you bring a jacket?”

“Mhm,” you hum again. “You’re always right, babe. Happy?”

“Yes, I am. Right and happy,” the midfielder says with a soft squeeze of your shoulders, leaning forward to kiss one of them. She wraps her arms around your waist and pulls you into her. “You make me happy,” she whispers in your ear. The feeling of her breath on your ear makes you shiver slightly again.

You turn around in her arms and wrap yours around her neck. That same adoration from earlier is back in Aitana’s eyes. Or maybe it never left. You’re sure it never leaves yours. You pull her closer to you and rest your forehead on hers. You can feel every breath she takes, and the warmth from the wool sweater she’s wearing radiates off of her. She closes her eyes as you gently scratch the back of her neck.

“I love you.” She doesn’t wait for you to say it back before she presses her lips to yours. Warmth once again engulfs your body to the point that you can’t believe you were ever cold. You smile into the kiss at her accented words, the declaration itself, the feeling of her hands squeezing your waist and her lips slowly moving against yours. Just her. 

You pull back hesitantly and open your eyes. She doesn’t let you go too far, keeping you close and resting her forehead on yours. There’s just enough space between your bodies to allow you to breathe out an “I love you” against her lips. She finally opens her eyes at that, and you share a smile as you both catch your breaths.

“Me more,” she counters. Your attempt to oppose her claim of loving you more comes to a halt when she pulls back a bit. A serious look befalls her features. 

“Okay, carinyo. Serious question for you now.” You might’ve been more nervous at her ominousness if it weren’t for her hands reaching down to play with yours. 

“What’s your question?”

She waits a beat. Her facade of seriousness starts to falter the longer she looks at you. 

“Do you remember where we parked the car?” she finally asks, dropping the serious act altogether and smiling at you.

You scoff but can’t help the laugh she pulls from you. Her laugh follows shortly after.

:)

[reidsdimples]

Boyfriend Boy Genius

Spencer Reid x BAU!Fem!Gf!Reader

Just fluff 🧸

“Spence!” You giggle and lace your fingers behind his neck.

He lifts you up under your butt and swings you around.

“I missed you, angel,” he leans in and nuzzles your nose with an Eskimo kiss which just makes you giggle harder.

“I missed you more,” you smile when he places you down.

“How’d the consult go on the Washington case?” He asks you.

“Good, I heard Seattle got messy,” you frown as you lean against his desk.

“Yeah but we got him. Streets are 3.89% safer now,” he smiles.

“That can’t be accurate,” you roll your eyes.

“Actually it is, I based it on the population, the known crime trends for the past decade, as well as known active serial killers in the Pacific Northwest. The Uptown Stabber’s body count and time between kills earned him a significant percentage of the cities crime rate this year and…” he drops into his seat. “I’m rambling…”

“Go on,” you smirk and nudge his converse with the white tip of your own.

“I got you something,” he clutches his shoulder bag nervously.

You tug on it but he holds it in place, his chair sliding a little closer.

“Hands off,” Hotch says somewhere behind you. Both of you instinctively back up.

The team knew about you two, obviously. It just couldn’t be flaunted it work. It had to stay professional.

“What is ittttt?” You whine and pout your lip at your boyfriend.

He whips out a 8x10 print in a sleeve which you’re unsure of at first. Then he turns it to show you.

“No you didn’t!” You gasp.

He had gotten a signed mini poster from the last Twilight movie with all of the main casts signatures. It even had a certificate of authenticity.

“Made the special trip! The lady had it signed by the cast when she worked as an extra,” he beamed.

“I could kiss you right now! You know that?” You stamp your feet and hug the picture to your chest.

“I know you lost a bid on one and she put this up for auction at one of the little shops in Forks,” he pulls off his shoulder bag and finally gets comfortable in his chair.

“You’re the best baby,” you lean down to kiss him.

“Uh, ew,” Morgan mocks and stops you two before your lips meet. “Don’t make me get Hotch.”

“I dare you, what’s up?” You laugh.

“I need the file on Rayburn,” he informs.

“One sec,” you return to your desk.

“Twilight? Really?” Morgan tsks.

“Oh shut up!” You shove him his folder.

—

“Dinner,” you assert.

“Just dinner,” he echoes. He kisses you again and you lead him to your front door.

Spencer is nearly drunk on your presence, on your scent. He half stumbles as he walks too fast for your short strides. He trips over his two feet and accidentally kicks the back of your shoe.

“Maybe sleep too?” He asks.

“Yes baby, I know you had a long flight today. What are you in the mood for? Pizza? I’m not cooking.”

“Pizzas good,” he sits on your couch and picks up the book you’re reading.

“Uh!” You snatch it. “Not for you.”

“Angel?” He stands. “Are you reading smut to keep yourself occupied while I’m away?” He takes your face between his hands and kisses you sweetly.

“You wish,” you slap his chest and turn from him.

He gathers you by your hips and wrestles you under him onto the couch. You’re giggling so hard that tears well up in your eyes. His messy hair falls over his forehead and he’s giddy at the sound of your laughter.

When you stop he buries his face in your neck to kiss you before tickling you once you’re lured into a false sense of security.

“Spencer!” You shout and thrash beneath him.

“Say my name again,” he pauses tickling you.

“No,” you turn your head from him and pout.

“I love it though,” he tickles you again until you snort.

You’re snorts spurn on more laughter between the two of you and everything is perfect because he’s back.

“Fine fine! Spencer,” you laugh uncontrollably. He stops tickling you and kisses you. “Spencer,” you whisper.

He nuzzles into your neck and sighs.

“Spencer, Spencer, Spencer,” you whisper and rub his back gently. He hums against your neck, enjoying the sensation.

You could stay like this with him forever- entangled in each other, the sound of his breathing mixed with yours, your fingers in his soft hair and rubbing his back. It’s perfect.

“Hopefully Hotch lets us go on the next case together,” you muse longingly.

He adjusts his hips between your legs and kisses you softly with a moan that matches your own.

“Hopefully,” he smirks and kisses your nose as his hands grip your hips.

[goldberrg]

surely "bestfriends"

summary : You and Billy have been best friends for a while, but when he comes over unexpectedly.

TW's – cursing, sex (in details)

The end of your pencil tapped against the edge of your desk, the side of your head resting on your hand. Your leg bounced to the same rhythm as your pencil, while you listened to your teacher finish up telling you guys about a project. You were all reading "Pride and Prejudice", or at least had read it, and now needed to do the final project for it. You were aloud to work in groups of up to four, but you knew you'd only be working with one person – your best friend, Billy Hargrove.

Billy's step-mom, Susan, and your own mother were close friends. They worked together, and when you had been invited over for dinner the first week they moved to Hawkins, you and Billy had clicked. The two of you spent most of the night in his room, flipping through his vinyl's and helping him hang up his posters. You couldn't help but mock him about the clichè Playboy posters he had, and all the random crap in his room. But the two of you hit it off, becoming close friends quick.

And now he was your partner for every english assignment, art project, and science project. Those were the three classes you shared together. The first time you tried pairing up with someone other than him, a girl named Cheryl, he didn't speak to you for three whole days. Even when he drove you to and from school, he blared his music so loud your ears rang for hours afterwards.

Only after the project was over, and you showed up at his door with two tickets to see a movie.

Once your teacher had finished giving out her information and instructions, the class dispersed to get with their groups or partners. You leaned your head back, already finding Billy getting up from his seat behind you. He tossed his backpack onto the now-vacant desk beside yours, slamming his body into the chair with a grunt. This was your cue to get up and go get the poster board you would need for the project. You returned with a plain, white board compared to the other varying colors of purple, green, blue and red.

— Get your gross feet off the desk. — you ordered, glaring down at Billy since your hands were preoccupied. Billy rolled his eyes, but complied and removed his feet, the legs of the chair falling back onto the floor.

— Alright, doll, what's the plan? — Billy questioned, reaching into your backpack and pulling out your personal copy of the book. You'd already read the book various times throughout middle school and early high school, so you and Billy switched off borrowing your book.

— I figured I'd paint the board, sort of like a collage. Have different things on it. — you explained, looking down at him from the other side of the desk.

— Sounds good to me. We have two weeks, right? — he asked, quirking an eyebrow up at you.

— Yup, so if you don't finish the book by then, I'll kick your fucking ass. — you hissed, watching as he paused his skimming through the book.

— What?

— There weren't any lions in the book, jerk. You have two days to finish it. You're three fourths done, because that's how much we've read together, so you can finish a hundred pages by Thursday. — you sighed, rolling your eyes.

You walked over and sat in your own chair.

— Yeah, yeah, alright Your Highness. — he grumbled, closing the book and tossing it on top of the poster. — What else? We're doing the whole 'main characters, theme, plot, climax' stuff, right?

— Of course that's the only word you'd remember. — you grinned, shoving his shoulder as he laughed. — The dramatic structure, yes. And all the other stuff. We'll split it up. — you said, putting the book away. — You're coming over after dropping Max off, right? — you asked, standing up.

— Yeah. Most likely around 4:00. — he said, standing up as well when the bell rang and slinging his bag over his shoulder. — Let's go, doll.

Once Billy dropped you off at home, you laid the poster board on your bed and your backpack by your desk. You decided to shower and change into comfy clothes before Billy came over, after all you had about an hour. So you grabbed a pair of skull pajama pants and a big shirt, before heading into the bathroom. You turned the water on high, stripping off your clothes from the day, leaving you in your underwear. Grabbing your moms essential rose oil, you dropped a couple drops into the shower before leaving it slightly unopened on the rack next to the shower. The smell would help relieve the tension of the day, and get you focused for schoolwork. Finally, you took off your bra and underwear, stepping in.

The hot water hit you in the face, and you welcomed it. Scrubbing your face, you made sure to get your mascara and concealer off so that when you got out you wouldn't look horrifying. You let the water travel to your hair, smoothing it down your shoulders. Steam filled up the bathroom, the smell of rose invading your senses.

The roaring of the water was so loud that you didn't hear your front door open or Billy shouting for you name.

Billy pulled up to your driveway, hopping out of his car and heading up to the front door. Max had been dropped off at Mike's, not Dustin's, so it was a lot closer than he thought. He decided not to stop at home afterwards, and just head straight to your place. So he got there around 3:20, rather than 4:00. Not that big of a deal.

Banging on the door, Billy waited a minute or two for you to answer. When you didn't, he tried again, but louder. After the third time, Billy just barged in, rolling his eyes at the fact it was unlocked.

— Hey! Y/N? — he called out, hearing the shower running. Kicking his shoes off by the door, Billy tossed his jacket onto the back of your couch. He didn't hear a response from you, so he headed towards the bathroom. Knocking on the door with his knuckles, he leaned against the frame.

— Come in! — Billy's eyes shot open, looking at the closed door in shock.

As you were putting shampoo into your hair, you heard a knock on the bathroom door. You looked over at it through the glass doors, thinking of who it could be. Your mom wouldn't be home until later, and an intruder wouldn't fucking knock. So you probably lost track of time, and it was Billy.

— Come in. — you called out, not minding if he did or not. The glass walls were textured and opaque so he wouldn't be able to see anything porn-worthy.

And the two of you had paraded around in front of each other with your underwear on before, it wasn't much different. There was a pause before the door creaked open, and the outline of Billy came in.

— Sorry I'm early, doll. — he said, his voice darker than normal. — It didn't take as long to drop Max off. And I figured I'd stop by right after to get a head start on the project, maybe hang out for a while. I didn't realize you'd be naked.

— It's fine. — you laughed, opening the door slightly so you could poke your head out. He was sitting on the sink counter, shirtless. Every other girl in Hawkins was wet for Billy Hargrove, how could they not be? And of course you fell into that category. But you couldn't express it like they could, even though you were closer to him than they were. A few times a week, you'd find your hand sneaking down your underwear, his name leaving your mouth as you writhed against your sheets.

— Don't take too long, alright? — Billy pleaded, when he looked up and saw you looking out of the shower. His cheeks were red, but you passed it off as the hot steam. — Why the hell does it smell like roses in here? There aren't any flowers. — he questioned suddenly, lifting his nose in the air and diverting his eyes away from your wet neck.

— It's my momma's rose oil. I use it to relax. — you said, a 'duh' tone to your voice as you closed the door. — And I'll take however damn long as I please.

— Course you will. — Billy grumbled, and you smirked to yourself. You washed away the shampoo as Billy fired off more questions. — Why do you need rose oil to relax? Doesn't that burning water help?

— Not entirely. It helps my muscles from being hunched over all day, and the steam helps with my nose. But the rose oil adds the extra flare. It's rejuvenating.

— Rejuvenating? The hell's that supposed to mean? — Billy ridiculed, hopping off the counter and moving closer to the door so he could hear you better over the shower.

— It's like... I don't know Billy! — you huffed, opening the door suddenly and popping your head out. You were startled when you came face-to-face with him, noticing the way his eyes darted down to your nearly exposed chest and back up. — It helps with headaches, my skin if I apply it directly onto it, and the smell is just nice. Don't you think? It's just fucking relaxing. Unlike you right now. It's amplified in the shower, so I apologize if you're not getting the full treatment. — you snapped, getting frustrated. Having Billy so close in an intimate setting was rough, especially when you couldn't touch. It was like a goddamn museum, you can look, drool and adore. But if you touch, you're getting arrested.

— I'm getting the full treatment just fine, baby. — Billy snickered, leaning closer to you as his eyes dragged up and down your hidden form. Your face heated up, and you shot your hand out, shoving his face back.

— Pff, yeah right, Hargrove. — you scoffed, closing the door and diving under the water. Your breathing was heavy and you tried to mellow it out by focusing on your conditioner.

— You still with that Caden guy? — Billy suddenly asked, his voice now on the other side of the doors, causing your eyebrows to furrow.

— No, I broke it off two weeks ago. Remember? He couldn't decide if he wanted me or Jenny more, even though he was fucking her the whole time.?— you laughed dryly, running the conditioner through your hair as you shook your head at the memory.

— Good. — Billy muttered, but you still caught it. — You could do so much better than him.

— Yeah? — you laughed, shaking your hair to even out the conditioner. — Like who, you?

— Exactly like me. — you stopped, and turned to the end of the doors. There was an audible zipping sound, causing your heart to speed up.

— That so? And what makes you think that, Billy? — you called out, biting your lip and turning to face the water again, washing out the conditioner, in hopes of calming yourself. Your heart hammered against your chest when you heard the shower doors open, as if it was about to leap out of your throat. You didn't turn around however, opting to close your eyes as the water hit your face.

— Cause. — he replied simply, his breath ghosting over the shell of your ear.

Your eyes shot open as rough hands gripped at your hips, spinning you around. Your arms collided with Billy's chest, your head tilting up to look at him. His blond hair was beginning to stick to his face, and his blue eyes stuck out more than ever against the tiles. You weren't given anymore time to admire him, because his lips were on yours instantly. Both of you were swallowing water, your lips pushing against each other desperately. Billy walked the two of you backwards carefully, making sure you didn't slip, until your back hit the wall. You were now out of the harsh spray of the water, and you broke away to gasp for clear air.

— Are you.. — you attempted to ask, not wanting him to regret this, and have the friendship ruined.

— Yes, yes I'm sure, Y/N. — Billy said, not giving you the chance to finish. His hand reached up, pushing your wet, dark hair out of your face before leaning back down to capture you in another demanding kiss. Your fingers tangled in his damp curls, tugging slightly when his hands gripped your waist tightly.

Billy moved his hands under your thighs and crouched, indicating you to jump, and you did. Your legs tightened around his waist for dear life, knowing that if either of you gave out it'd end in a naked hospital trip.

— Fuck. — you moaned out, breaking the kiss as his cock rubbed against your pussy, tilting your head back. Billy ducked his head, attaching his mouth to the center of your throat, biting the thin flesh before sucking it. You whimpered, moving your body up and down the slick wall slightly, giving the both of you more friction. His nails dug into your ass, pinning you to the wall so you couldn't move.

— Don't do that, princess. — he warned lowly, vibrating against your throat. You could feel the occasional pulse of his cock against you, and you wanted nothing more than for it to be in you. Whether it was your mouth or pussy, you didn't care. You just wanted it.

— Billy, please. — you whined, after having waited patiently for him to finishing sucking on your neck.

— What do you want, baby. — he growled, pulling back to look up at you. You didn't answer him, instead you held onto his shoulders tightly so you could unwrap your legs without death. Once your feet were safely on the ground, you flipped the two of you, so his back was against the wall and your back was facing the water. Giving him a smirk, you kissed the corner of his mouth before getting on your knees. Billy's tongue darted out, licking along his lips while looking down at you, his hand running through your wet hair. Grabbing his dick in your hand, you pulled at it a few times, twisting your hand along the base. Leaning down, you gave the tip a few kitten licks, gathering the pre-cum onto your tongue. Looking up at Billy, you waited until his eyes fluttered closed before taking the beginning of his dick into your mouth.

— Ugh, Y/N. — Billy grunted, his hold on your hair tightening. You smiled internally, licking the underside of his cock, and then left to right in order to ease your mouth farther down. It took a few minutes, but soon enough the tip had gone past your tonsils. Your eyes were watering, and saliva was dribbling out of the edges of your mouth. Billy's hips bucked against your mouth, his tight grip on your hair giving you a steady rhythm. Continuous moans streamed out of his mouth, and eventually you were roughly pulled off of his dick.

— Not yet, baby. — he said, more so to himself than you. You understood what he meant, and grinned in satisfaction. Putting his finger under your chin, Billy guided you to stand up. Holding your chin between his thumb and forefinger, Billy pulled you in for a slower, more passionate kiss. Your hands rested on his chest, relishing in the warmth of the water and his body. His free hand traveled down the small of your back, tickling you as he went, before gropping your ass.

— Billy.. — you gasped, your voice breathless. You grinded yourself against him again, growing impatient. You looked into his eyes, chewing on your bottom lip to keep in your needy whines. Billy simply smirked down at you, fully aware of what it was you wanted – no, needed.

— Hmm? — he hummed, a wicked grin on his face. You let out an impatient huff, ducking your head to harshly bite at his shoulder. Billy hissed out, the hold on your ass tightening before it released. You thought he was just gonna move you two, but instead he brought his hand down in a harsh slap.

— Ah, Fuck. — you cried out in shock, arching your back.

— Don't bite. — he warned, and then he finally pushed your body against the wall on the side, the cool tile instantly calming down your burning ass cheek.

— Then fuck me already, you jerk. — you snapped, running your thumb over the bite mark on his shoulder. Billy's eyebrow rose at your bold statement, and you simply grinned up at him. His fingers ran down your stomach, tracing at your curves and marks of imperfections. He kept eye contact with you as his middle and ring finger dipped between your folds, slowly dragging from your entrance to your clit. Your body jumped at finally being touched, a sigh leaving your mouth. His thumb rolled around your nub, your hips jerking occasionally, while his middle finger worked it's way inside you. A small grunt sounded in your throat, and you held onto Billy's shoulder, leaning your head against the wall. Once his middle finger was in to the knuckle, he pushed in his ring finger and began pumping them in and out of you, curling them.

— Ugh. — you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulder. Billy started kissing his way around your jaw, neck and chest, occasionally licking your nipple for fun. He added his forefinger after a minute, another moan escaping. You bit your lip, hard, holding in another whimper.

— Why are you being so quiet, princess? It's just us. — he mused, biting at your earlobe.

— I don't wanna boost your ego. — you snickered, yelping when his thumb pressed down on your clit and his fingers dug inside you even more.

— Yeah, well. — he laughed, shaking his head. — You can't hide the sounds you're making down here. — he snickered, slowly pulling his three fingers out of you and bringing them to his mouth. His tongue moved between his fingers, licking your juices and the shower water off of them. You watched, mesmerized.

Once his fingers were cleaned to his liking, he gripped the back of your thighs, having you jump up again. He gave you a nod, questioning if you were ready or not. You nodded yours quickly, having been ready for this for months. Aligning his cock with your entrance, Billy didn't have the ability to ease himself in because of your guys positions. So with one quick thrust, he was inside you, his hand splayed out against the wall and the other gripping your ass.

— Fuck. — you screamed, throwing your head back, crying out when it hit the wall. Billy was big, bigger than his three fingers. Your arms pulled him closer, trying to even out your breathing and relax your muscles around him. Billy didn't move, small moans being breathed into the crook of your neck.

— I'm sorry, doll. — he whispered, knowing it hurt. You didn't have lube or a condom, and not much preparation.

— No, no, don't apologize. — you said quickly, squeezing yourself around him to emphasize. — It's fine. You can.. you can start.

Billy removed his head to look at you, but when you gave him a nod he started moving. He thrusted slowly, not wanting to lose his grip on you or push your body. Both of you were breathing heavily, and you moved your body along his, matching his thrusts with your own.

— God. — he moaned, pulling his cock farther out before slamming back in, continuing the movement over and over again. Your nails scratched their way over his shoulder blades, biceps, back and anywhere they could reach. The pain was decreasing as the thrusting went on, and when Billy moved you slightly to the left, slamming back in, your eyes shot open.

— Holy fuck, right there, Billy! — you shouted out, arching yourself into him.

Billy smirked up at you, licking his bottom lip and doing as you said. He quickened his pace, no longer hearing your hisses of pain, and thrusted into you quickly. The sound of his skin slapping against yours, as well as the sound of your back hitting the wall, echoed throughout the bathroom, overpowering the shower.

— Ugh, god. — Billy grunted, throwing his head back. — I can't hold out much longer, Y/N. — he moaned, looking down at you just as you opened your eyes to look at him.

— I'm close too. — you whimpered, hiking yourself higher up on the wall, screaming out when his cock hit the spot again, but deeper. — Fuck, fuck, fuck. — you moaned, a streamline of curse words leaving your mouth. — Billy, I'm.. — you tried to warn him, but a high pitched moan escaped before you could finish as the heat in the bottom of your stomach exploded. A wave of warmth washed over you, your toes curling and your thighs squeezing around Billy, pulling him closer. You mouth fell open, letting out a small, quiet gasp as you orgasmed.

Billy pulled out quickly, feeling his own orgasm wash over him, and his hot cum sprayed over your stomach and the tops of your thighs. Your head fell to his shoulder limply, your body slipping down the shower wall, as it shook from your orgasm. You could see your thighs wiggling, and Billy gently lowered you to the floor. When the cold shower water hit you, you welcomed it, letting the cum wash off of you.

— Hey. — Billy whispered, his arms wrapping around you from behind. — This isn't a one time thing. I want you to be mine.

— Good. — you grinned, a giddy feeling coming over you, more intense than your orgasm. You turned around to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck. — Let's go take a nap, that project can wait until later.

[wilwheaton]

When you watch The Curse, you are watching two children who were abused and exploited daily during production. No adults protected us.

This was originally published on my blog in August, 2022.

I had a wonderful time at Steel City Comicon this weekend. It was my first time at this particular con, so I didn’t know there was such a huge contingent of horror fans, creators, and vendors who attend.

I love horror, and I was pretty psyched to be in the same place as John Carpenter and Tom Savini, across the street from the Dawn of the Dead mall. Pittsburgh feels like one of the places horror was invented, at least to me.

A number of these horror fans came to see me, and asked me to sign posters and other things from a movie my parents forced me to do when I was 13, called The Curse. I had to tell each of these people that I would not sign anything associated with that movie, because I was abused and exploited during production. The time I spent on that film remains the most traumatizing time of my life, and though I am a 50 year-old man, just typing this now makes my hands shake with remembered fear of a 13 year-old boy who nobody protected, and the absolute fury the 50 year-old man feels toward the people who hurt him.

I told this story in Still Just A Geek, and I’ve talked about it in some podcasts I did on the promo tour, but I’ve never put it out in public like this, in its entirety.

I suspect someone at the publisher would prefer I tease this and hope it drives book sales from people who want to read all of it, but I honestly don’t want to have another weekend like this one where everything is awesome, except the few times people who have no idea (and why should they) put that fucking poster in front of me, and all the fear, abandonment, and trauma come flooding back as I tell them that I won’t sign it, and why.

To their credit, each person was as horrified as they should have been, told me they had no idea (if they didn’t read my book why would they), and quickly put the poster away. They were all understanding. I am grateful for that.

But I really don’t need to tell this story over and over again, so here it is, with a child abuse and exploitation content warning, so I can just tell people to Google it.

After Stand by Me, everything changed. The attention from entertainment journalists, casting directors, and especially teen magazines came pouring in. The movie was a generational hit, beloved by critics and audiences alike, and every single one of us could pick anything to do next.

River’s parents and his agent got him Mosquito Coast, with Harrison Ford, as his next movie. I also auditioned for the role, but I knew even then that River was going to book the job. He was perfect, and I’d have to wait a little bit for my opportunity to come along.

I went on a lot of theatrical auditions after Stand by Me. I had tons of meetings with directors and the heads of casting at every major studio. It was all a very big deal, and I felt like we were all looking for something really special and amazing as my follow-up to Stand by Me.

At some point, a couple of producers contacted my agent with an offer to play one of the leads in an adaptation of H. P. Lovecraft’s “The Colour Out of Space.” The script was titled The Farm. (It would, of course, be changed when the film was released).

I read it. I did not like it. It was a shitty horror movie, and I saw that right away. It was the sort of thing you rented on Friday when the new release you wanted was already out of the store.

My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

I told my parents I didn’t like it and didn’t want to do it. I clearly recall thinking it was a piece of shit that would hurt my career.

It wasn’t the first thing that had come our way that I wanted to pass on, and every other time, it hadn’t been a very big deal.

Sidebar: I was cast in Twilight Zone: The Movie, in 1983. The film tells four stories, and I was cast as the kid who can wish people into cartoonland. It was a GREAT role, in a movie I still love. (Note that Twilight Zone had four directors. One of them got three people killed. The segment I was cast in was not that one. I mention this because too many people zero in on this to deflect from what this whole thing is actually about.)

But I was CONVINCED by my parochial school teacher that if I worked on The Twilight Zone, which she had determined was satanic, I would go to hell. (This woman and her bullshit played a big role in my conversion to atheism at a young age, but when she told me that, I was all-in on the supernatural story they taught us in religion class.) I was so scared, more scared than I’d ever been to that point in my life, I cried and wailed and begged my parents to not make me do the movie. And I never told them why, because I was afraid my dad would laugh at me for being weak and afraid. My agent tried to talk me into it, and I wouldn’t budge. It’s the only thing I deeply and truly regret passing on, and I really hate I made that choice for such a stupid reason.

Okay. Back to The Curse.

This time, when I told them how much I hated it, they wouldn’t listen to me. My mother, already an incredibly manipulative person, used every tool at her disposal to change my mind. My father threatened me, mocked me, told me “It’s your decision” when it clearly wasn’t. It was all so weird; I didn’t understand why they cared so much.

That is, until they made me take a meeting with the producers of the movie, in their giant conference room on the top floor of a tall building in Hollywood. All I remember about this place was that it was huge; the table was way too big for the five of us who spread around it, and there were floor-to-ceiling windows on three of the walls, but the room was still dark. There was a weird optical illusion in the center of the table, this thing they sold in the Sharper Image catalog, made from two reflective dishes with a hole in the top of one. You placed an object in the bottom of the bottom dish, and it made it look like that object was floating above the whole thing. They had a plastic spider in it. What a strange detail for me to remember, but it’s as clear in my memory as if I were sitting in that room right now.

One man, who I presumed was the executive producer, was European or Middle Eastern (I didn’t know the difference then, he was just Not Like People I Knew), and I was instantly afraid of him. He was intimidating, and seemed like a person who got what he wanted.

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

I don’t remember what they said to me in their pitch or anything other than how uncomfortable and anxious I was to even be in that room. I tried so hard to be grown up and mature, but I — and my parents — was way out of my depth. I’d done one big movie and that was it. We didn’t have my agent with us, who had lots of experience and would have known what questions to ask.

No, in place of my experienced agent, my mother had decided she was going to be my manager, and she tackled the responsibility with an enthusiasm that was only matched by her absolute incompetence and inability to go toe-to-toe with producers the way my agent did. She was outwitted, out-thought, and outmaneuvered at every turn.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

So we sat there, my father who didn’t give a shit about me, my mother who was cosplaying as someone with experience, and me, thirteen years old, awkward as fuck, and scared to death.

At some point, this man, who is represented in my memory by big Jim Jones sunglasses under dark hair above an open collar, said, “We are offering you a hundred thousand dollars and round-trip travel for your whole family. We will cast your sister, Amy, to play your sister in the movie.”

It all made sense, now. I was only thirteen, but I knew my parents were pushing me so hard because this company was offering me — them, really — more money than I’d ever imagined I’d earn in my life, much less a single job.

I knew that the right thing to do, the smart thing to do, was to say no. There would be other opportunities, and it was stupid to cash myself out of feature films for what I thought was, in the grand scheme of things, not very much money.

It’s incredible to me that I knew all of this. It’s incredible to me that I could see all these things, plainly and clearly, and my parents couldn’t (or, more likely, chose not to).

So after this man made his offer, all the adults in the room ganged up on me, selling me HARD on this movie.

My mother said, “Don’t you want your sister to have the same opportunities you’ve had? Wouldn’t it be fun and exciting to go to Rome? Think of all the history!”

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

I don’t think about this very often, because it’s super upsetting to me. Right now, I’m so angry at my parents for subjecting me and my sister to this entire experience. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

In that moment, I felt bullied and trapped. All these adults were talking to me at the same time, and I just wanted it to stop. I just wanted to go home and get out of this room. I just wanted to go be a kid, so I did what I’d learned to do to survive: I gave in and did what my parents wanted.

The experience was awful. It was the worst experience I have ever had on a set in my life, by every single metric. The movie is awful, and it is the embarrassment I knew it would be.

But here’s the thing: when you watch The Curse, you are watching two children, me and my sister, who were abused on a daily basis. The production did not follow a single labor law. They worked us for twelve hours a day, on multiple film units (while I work on First unit, second unit sets up and waits for me. When I should get a break to rest, they send me to Second unit, then to Third unit, then back to First unit. I was 13.) without any breaks, five days a week. I was exhausted the entire time. I was inappropriately touched by two different adults during production. I knew it was wrong, but I was so scared and ashamed, and I felt so unsupported, I didn’t tell anyone. I knew my dad wouldn’t believe me, and my mother would blame me. Anything to keep the production happy, that’s what she did. That was more important to her than the health and safety of her children. The director was coked out of his mind most of the time, incompetent, and so busy fucking or trying to fuck one of the women in the cast, he was worse than useless. He was a fading actor who was cosplaying as a director, as in over his head as my mother. My sister and I were never safe. Instead of harmless atmospheric SFX smoke, they set hay on fire in barrels and blew actual smoke onto the set. They took buckets of talc, broken wood, bits of wallpaper and plaster, and threw it into my face during a scene inside the collapsing house. My sister is in a scene where she goes to get eggs from some chickens, and they attack her. So they hired Lucio Fulci, the Italian horror master, to direct her sequence. His idea, which everyone was totally on board with, was to throw chickens at my sister. Live chickens, live roosters, live birds. Just throw them at a nine-year-old girl. Oh, and then tie them to her arms and legs so they’ll peck her. All of this happened under my mother’s observation, and with her full participation.

Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

If just ONE of the things I can remember happened to someone I loved, I would have grabbed my kids, gone to the airport, and flown home. Fuck those abusive assholes in the production. Let the lawyers sort it all out. Nobody hurts my children and gets away with it.

My mom says she “had some talks” with the producers. She claims that, once, she wouldn’t let us leave the hotel. (God, what a fucking dump that place was. It was just slightly better than a hostel.) I have no memory of that, but honestly the entire experience was so traumatic, I’ve blocked most of it out.

The movie was the commercial and critical failure I knew it would be. My parents spent the money. I don’t know what they spent it on. I got to keep fifteen cents of every dollar, so . . . yay?

My sister and I hardly ever talk about this. I suspect it was as upsetting and traumatic for her as it was for me. I told her I was writing about it, and asked her if she remembered anything. She told me she’d been lied to her whole life about this movie. Our mother let her believe she had been cast on the strength of her audition. “I was excited to work with you,” she said. She reminded me about some stuff I’d blocked out, including a scene where my character’s older brother (played by an actor named Malcolm Danare, who was kind and gentle, and made both of us feel safer when he was around) shoves my character into a pile of cow shit. When it came time to shoot the scene, the mud they’d put together to be the cow shit looked an awful lot like cow shit. When Malcolm pushed me into it, we all found out it was real cow shit. I was FURIOUS. The director had lied to me and had allowed me to have my entire body shoved into an actual pile of actual cow shit. I don’t remember what I said, but I remember he treated me the exact same way my father did whenever I got upset: he laughed at me, told me I was being too sensitive, reminded me that he was the director and he wanted to get a “real” performance out of me, and concluded, “If it bothers you so much, we’ll get you a hepatitis shot,” before he walked away.

My sister also recalled that, after she survived the scene with the chickens, it was the producers’ idea to give her one as a pet.

Okay, let’s unpack that for a quick second: you’ve been traumatized by these birds, so we’re going to give you one as a pet. That you’ll somehow keep in your hotel, and then will somehow get back to America. It will shock you to learn that neither of those things happened.

She remembered, as I do, the huge fight I had with my parents in our kitchen, where I told them I hated the script and I hated the movie. I didn’t want to do it, and I hated that they were making me do it.

“You don’t have a choice,” my father commanded. “You are doing this movie.”

“This is the only film you are being offered,” my mother lied to me. She made me feel like, if I didn’t do this movie, I would never do another movie again in my life. I had to do this movie. As my father bellowed, I had no choice.

Both of my parents denied this argument ever happened. Can I tell you how reassuring it is to know that my sister, who was also there, remembers it the same way I do?

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them.

But one thing she told me, the thing I did not know, the thing that makes me so angry I want to break things, actually managed to make the entire experience even worse than I remembered it.

There’s a scene after her chicken incident where I check up on her in her bedroom. She’s got cuts and bruises, and I guess we talk about it. I don’t remember and I can’t watch the movie because I’m terrified it will give me a PTSD flashback (I’ve had one of those and I recommend avoiding it). Here’s the thing about that scene: she has some cuts on her face, and those cuts are real. They are not makeup.

I’m going to repeat that. My nine-year-old little sister had actual cuts on her face that were placed there by an adult, on purpose.

The makeup department decided they would literally cut my little sister’s face with a scalpel, in three places, and put bandages over them. My sister told me our mother wasn’t in the makeup room when this happened — honestly, it seemed like our mother was strangely and conveniently absent when most of the really terrible things happened to us on the set — and when my sister told her what they’d done, she “lost her shit” at the production. She was pissed, I guess, which is appropriate and surprising. I wonder what would have to have happened for her to put us on a plane and get us home to safety? I mean, her son being abused daily didn’t do it, and her daughter being CUT IN THE FACE ON PURPOSE didn’t do it.

I just . . . I can’t. I can’t understand or comprehend allowing your own children to be physically and emotionally abused. They were literally selling my sister and me to these people, like we were some kind of commodity.

This was a tough conversation. My sister’s experience with our parents is very different from mine. My sister and I love each other. We’re close. I know it’s hard for her to hear that her brother, who she loves, was so abused by her parents, who she also loves. I was really grateful she made the time to talk to me about it, and grateful the experience wasn’t as horrible for her as it was for me.

As we were finishing our call, Amy also remembered one man, a young Italian named Luka, who was our driver for the movie. I haven’t thought about him in thirty years, but I can see his face now. He was kind, he was friendly, he taught us how to kick a soccer ball, and in the middle of an abusive, torturous experience, he stood out as a kind and gentle man. I mention him because she remembered him, which made me remember him, and goddammit I want at least one small part of this thing to not be awful.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares.

Ultimately, as I predicted and feared, this piece of shit movie cashed me out of respectable films forever. I got offers for movies, but they were always mindless comedies or exploitative horror films. They were never the serious dramas I wanted to work in after Stand by Me. The industry looked at me and River, wondering if one or both of us would become a breakout star. They quickly saw that River was doing real acting work, and I was in this piece of shit. For River, Stand by Me was a beginning. For me, it would turn out to be pretty much everything, at least as far as film goes.

There are thousands of reasons film careers do and don’t take off. Maybe mine wouldn’t have taken off anyway. Clearly, it’s not where my life ended up, and I’m super okay with that now. But when all of this happened, it hurt and haunted me.

The Curse remains one of the most consequential times the adults in my life failed to protect me. I’m 50. I still have nightmares. Everything I need to know about who my parents are is wrapped up in that experience: the total lack of concern for my safety and happiness, treating me like an asset instead of a son, lying to me, manipulating me, and using me to get things they wanted, and then gaslighting me about it.

This annotation is the last thing I wrote before I turned this manuscript in, because opening these wounds is hard and painful. I put it off as long as I could, and I feel like I’m still holding back, because just this small glimpse of the experience has taken me a week to write. I can’t imagine trying to go back and unpack the whole thing. (Note that is not in the book: I’ve made an EMDR appointment to work on this because the nightmares have come back after the weekend).

Fuck The Curse, and fuck every single person who exploited and hurt two beautiful children to make it. You all participated in child abuse, and you all knew better. Shame on all of you. I hope this follows you to the end of your life. I hope that living with what you did to innocent children has been as hard for you as it has been for me, because you deserve no less.

[elizmanderson]

someone on Threads posted like "someone wants the film rights to your book...but the film will star Muppets, do you sell" and I, with a movie poster mock-up I made over a year ago of if my book were given a Muppets film adaptation,

[fizzyellouw]

Main poster ↓

Old poster ↓

History

The story takes place in 1989 at Westerburg High School. Pomni was a girl who was bullied by her classmates, many of whom were her childhood friends. A few days later, she joined the most popular clique at Wasterburg, which consisted of three rich students: the leader, Jax; the silly prince, Kinger; and the cheerleader ; Ragatha. After 3 weeks of being a Heath, Pomni gets fed up with them, especially Jax.

She meets a candy gator, Gummigoo, Pomni learns about his fight with 2 other popular kids.

When Pomni goes to Ram's party with the Heaths, she has a great time, but Gangle arrives at the party and this worries Pomni, she tells Gangle to leave before someone hurts her and announces in the middle of the party that she's leaving the group and going back to her normal life, Jax fights with her and Pomni ends up vomiting, he swears to destroy Pomni's life.

Drunk, Pomni shows up at her best friend Gangle's house. The next day she says goodbye to Gangle and meets up with Gummigoo to discuss the plan against Jax. They break into Jax's house and Gummigoo pours him a liquid that he claims is a hangover cure, but is actually milk and detergent, leaving Jax hospitalized for months.

After the whole school heard that Jax was in hospital, many prayed that Jax would get well and others that Jax would die. Kinger soon took over Jax's role as leader of the group and started wearing a purple cape.

Ram and Kurt tell everyone that Pomni had sex with them. Gummigoo tells Pomni to lure them into the forest to trick them into having sex so he can shoot them with non-fatal German bullets. Gummigoo shoots Ram and Pomni misses Kurt, who runs away but Gummigoo chases after him. Pomni noticed that the bullets were real; Gummigoo chases Kurt back to Pomni, who panics and shoots Ram. Gummigoo puts homosexual materials next to the boys, and a suicide note saying that they were both gay and didn't want to live in such a cruel world anymore, thus ending homophobia in the school.

Gangle, Pomni's best friend, pins a suicide note to her chest and throws herself from a high place. She survives because her body is made of tape and is light, she hits her face on the floor and ends up cracking her face and is mocked for trying to "act popular".

One night, Ragatha calls into a popular radio show, Pomni Kinger was listening, Ragatha says her name is actually Agatha, she talks about her depression and how her life is forced, the next day, Kinger tells the whole school about Agatha, she tries to commit suicide by overdosing on pills in the girls' bathroom, but is saved in time by Pomni.

Gummigoo tells Kinger to get signatures from all the students for a band note, which was actually a suicide note. Most of the students signed it.

Pomni tells Gummigoo that he doesn't want to hurt and kill anyone anymore. Gummigoo goes to Pomni's house with a revolver to kill her, but Pomni uses a rope to make it look like she committed suicide. Gummigoo thinks there's no one left to stop him so he goes to the school and plants a bomb to blow everything up.

Pomni fights Gummigoo in the boiler room under the gymnasium while a pep rally is going on at the school, where he is setting up timed explosives. Pomni shoots Gummigoo as a result of him refusing to stop the bomb. While Gummigoo has fainted, Pomni deactivates the bomb and leaves with it going to an open space in the school, she puts the bomb in her chest to kill herself but Gummigoo arrives in time and takes the bomb out of her hands, he tells Pomni to stay away and says that, from the first time he saw her, he fell in love with Pomni, but he knew she didn't feel the same way but he still didn't care. The bomb finally explodes and confetti scatters and Pomni gets dirty with dust and confetti, she picks up Gummigoo's hat and puts it on her head with a smile of relief.

Pomni confronts Kinger, confesses and asks Gangle out on a date (one night in the movie) so they start dating.

1 month later, she goes to Jax who is out of hospital and tells him that she didn't put detergent in his drink but Gummigoo, and that she didn't know there was detergent in it. Jax didn't know whether to trust Pomni or Gummigoo, but he gave Pomni a chance even though he still didn't trust her very much. The Heaths, including Kinger, assume that their names are Jason, Agatha and Kilye.

Kylie sees that she was wrong, Agatha seeks treatment for her depression, and Jason stops smoking.

They stop bullying and the Heaths group ceases to exist, now Gangle, Pomni, Kilye, Jason and Agatha are friends.

Songs

Beautiful

Candy Store

Big Fun

Dead Girl Walking

Dead Girl Walking (reprise)

Shine a Light

Shine a Light (reprise)

Never Shut Up Again

Kindergarten Girlfriend

Seventeen

Meant To Be Yours

Yo, Girl

Lifeboat

Ships :

Bunnydoll / Ragatha x Jax

Scaredylovers / Gangle x Pomni

Funnygummy / Gummigoo x Pomni (Non-mutual feeling)

[nightmare-foundation]

Honestly it lowkey annoys me whenever people say that Michael has 'very little personality' outside of hunting down his father.

N like- on the surface, that seems true, but like. If you look deeper, that's... not really true?? Because there's a LOT that actually speaks to his character, but you have to be willing to catch onto the connections his character has

Like, for example, Michael has a very straightforward way of speaking. He's dry and sarcastic ("They thought I was you... [laugh]"), has a foreshortened sense of the future (the drawing of a gravestone in the security logbook), not to mention the dialogue of foxybro in fnaf 4. He doesn't beat around the bush, but he's bitter and dry and sarcastic. Even as an old man, his anger and cynicism towards Freddy's shows in his drawings, but he has a sense of humor (the exotic butters and casual bongos referenced in the logbook, not to mention the silly drawings), plus he's sentimental (as said before, exotic butters and casual bongos). Not to mention he's stubborn as shit, given he keeps coming back to Freddy's, even after 30 whole years.

A lot of people also really like to write Michael off as being stupid, for... some reason. The games really say otherwise; the fact that he tampers with the animatronics regularly, figured out what his father did and what happened to Elizabeth in less than a week, freed the dead kids, helped make FFPS and ran a business, likely Also made the fnaf 3 location too, knew what was gonna happen to him in SL (pretty clear given the fact you can ignore Baby's directions on the last night), can manage several animatronics at once throughout an entire night...

Michael is very clearly Really Fucking Smart. Smart enough that I'm willing to bet that was one of the reasons why William sent him to the SL bunker. Michael is FAR from an idiot, and the FNAF movie even proves this further! He's SCARILY smart!

There's a lot more too; him using a red foxy mask speaks a lot to his character too. Red is often used to denote everything from passion to anger (yknow, 'seeing red' being a term for when you're blind with rage), and he wears it the entire time he bullies CC. It's not just a literal mask, it's figurative too; Michael puts up a mask of anger, he pretends to be this scary bully. The cruelty isn't real, Michael is just the scapegoat and he's acting out (very very common).

Also, Michael is 100% who you play as in fnaf 4 based on the movement, and who rubs away in Midnight Motorist. CC is the type of kid to freeze up, curl up into a ball and cry when he's scared, as seen several times in fnaf 4. It wouldn't make sense for him to suddenly turn around and start running around, or fighting back. It's very Michael to run around, constantly looking around, or to break out and run away.

Another note on Michael's character is that he's associated with Foxy. The Funtimes are clearly modeled after the Aftons (Ballora and Baby are, why wouldn't the rest match CC (Freddy) and Michael (Foxy)?), and using that we can gleam some parts of Michael from FT Foxy (since William clearly was trying to mock and make fun of him with the angsty teen voice). FT Foxy is a performer; he's dramatic, he's vicious, attacking even when he 'shouldn't', and wants his stage solely to himself.

This fits Michael; Michael put on an act of viciousness and cruelty, always attacking when you least expected it. So it makes sense that Michael, too, is a performer, and FFPS hammers this in using the business bear. Again, the mask represents Michael acting, pretending, and it wouldn't be the first time an Afton would pretend (William, Elizabeth, and to an extent, CC). The rest of the Aftons are also theatrical and dramatic, so again, this tracks. He's also represented as one of those hand puppets in the ffps alleyway poster, something used to ACT.

And again, with Foxy, we can gleam that Michael likely is also a sort of 'leader' figure, since Foxy has been depicted as not just a pirate captain, but also as a Ringleader. This also tracks, not just bc the Aftons have a circus theme, but Michael is the eldest of his siblings, and thus the de facto 'leader'. He's the first to act, to put things into motion when everything 'ends'. Foxy is also, well, a fox, which are depicted as cunning and intelligent, which only lends credence to Michael being intelligent.

It's also implied that Michael... doesn't really care about people who Aren't his family?? Whether that's by blood or not, he doesn't care abt others who isn't his family. This is implied by the fact that he only cared about freeing Elizabeth, showing absolutely No care about the Funtimes despite them clearly being sentient. Not to mention the lawsuits he regularly gets in FFPS, or the state Fazbears Frights is in in fnaf 3. And, judging by Henry's final speech, he and Michael just. Don't seem to talk At All. At the very least they definitely don't communicate since Henry assumed Michael wanted to die (which is left Very Ambiguous).

Honestly this doesn't even BEGIN to get into everything that the Glitchtrap Michael theory says about his character that also hammer in all of these traits Even Further.

And like. Michael is SOOO much like William when you put all of this into perspective. Like, they are SIMILAR similar, but differ in ways that are important. Michael is a performer, an actor, he doesn't care about anyone outside of his family, he's stubborn as fuck, he's smart as hell, he's sarcastic and dry, etc.

He has SO. MUCH. CHARACTER. You just have to dig a little- this is ALL gleamed from the games and Security Logbook. There's more if you believe he's Glitchtrap- which he very likely is.

Just... it's nuts. He's such an intriguing character, he's not perfect and he's morally gray, yet people love to dumb him down to "hehe sad uwu arsonist zombie boy who's also Stupid"

Please just let Michael be a problematic old man (he was born in the 60s ffs, he's almost in his 60s by the time ffps rolls around).

[lordoftablecloths]

"You are my creator, but I am your master--obey!"

okay phew now that the cut is here i can actually get silly with it

frankenstein ? theyre going to have to call him freakystein once im done with him

okay ill shut up now <- lying

yeah this is basically a mock-movie poster/cover for frankenstein, with the border things mimicking the style of those silent film text frames

and hey, if youre still here, heres a sneak peak at some storyboards im making ;)

theres one and a half pages done right now, but im sure this'll easily stretch into 3+ pages

oh and if you want to see more of the frankenstein stuff im doing, i have it all tagged under #freakystein lol

[your-nanas-house]

could you write some hot neil sex in his office after you two have been flirting for months and to finally happens!?! please and thank you!

Yes, please....? I can 💯

Han(d) Solo and Princess Organa

◇ Pairing: Neil Lewis x fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, handjob, lame jokes, star wars roleplay, flirting, pathetic and sub!Neil, degradation (she calls him nerd etc.)

◇ Summary: After Y/n finds a poster of her in Neil's office she decides to punish him with an improvised star wars roleplay.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

"Kinky nerd—" her voice echoed in the room, her eyes focused on a personalized poster of her dressed as slave Leia Organa, which was hidden behind the office door of the video store 'Gumshoe Video'.

Her gaze trailed slowly along her curves, studying herself with an impressed expression

"Well damn... at least he has taste" she murmured before starting to snoop around, opening some boxes to find the exact costume she had in that photo. Right at that moment the door swang open and Neil walked in with another box filled with movies.

"Well, well, well... my admirer finally arrived, hm?" The young woman teased, watching the video store owner with an amused smile, not bothered by the fact that he just caught her in his office.

They had been pinning over each other since months now, letting flirty comments or jokes slip during conversations added to the casual touches here and there. Months and neither of them tried to do the first move or at least ease up the sexual tension that couldn't be unnoticed even by strangers.

"I saw the poster you have on the door, you kinky nerd. I don't even wanna know how or when you did that, but I want a copy" she commented, hitting the topic without beating around the bush. "I don't get why I have to be Leia though, I would look stunning as Han Solo as well" she added while studying the photo, earning an embarassed chuckle from Neil.

"Don't you agree?" The young woman murmured out, stepping closer to her friend, taking him in hungrily

"I think you need to be punished for it, don't you agree? Having a poster of me... making me look like a pinup girl themed star wars.... and not even telling me" her fingers brushed Neil's nape moving in his hair to get a good hold and pull his head back enough to let her speak directly in his ear

"Don't whine, I barely touched you, nerd. You're lucky I'm a fan too so I will do things correctly and not like on some cheap pornhub movie where they make characters like Darth Vader fuck Leia... no, no, love. Put the costume on for me, please. Han Solo is waiting" her tone got firmer and harsher, and she finally let go of the young man before sitting on the desk chair waiting patiently.

As soon as she let go, Neil grabbed quickly the top of the costume, examining it carefully as thoughts filled his head. He could either refuse and don't embarass himself but that way don't get pussy or he could embarass himself and get pussy. It honestly wasn't such a hard decision, took him not even a minute, and he had on the full outfit.

"You honestly look amazing in it" Y/n's teasing voice broke the silence. She had an amused smile on her face as she watched him lazily.

"Shut up.." Neil murmured as his face heated up in embarrassment, his cock already rock hard pressed against the soft fabric of the skirt.

As silence filled the room again, he started to shift awkwardly on his place, not daring to look up and meet her gaze, opting rather to fix and play with the collar at his neck and the golden plastic chain.

He could see from the corner of his eyes her movements and how her hand reached for the chair herself, tugging him closer

"Getting all shy now, nerd?" Her voice mocked him, making his cock harden painfully even more. Fuck it was embarrassing with his dick creating a damn tent and wetting the fabric of the skirt.

"Look at me" Y/n's voice came out softer, her gaze studying him carefully to be sure he was actually into the punishment she had improvised. When she finally found the answer, her hand moved across his stomach teasingly, her eyes following her path as Neil kept whining and shivering pathetically, begging her to do something

"Hush, love. It's supposed to be a punishment... and since you are Princess Organa and I'm Han Solo... guess I can just give you a handjob... you know... Hand Solo" she joked, cringing herself at her pathetic attempt, not that the young man minded since he was still whimpering and humping her palm.

As Neil's pleads continued, increasing, her hand wandered under the fabric, caressing his pale thighs till she finally reached his leaking cock.

"Please, Y/n. Don't tease" the owner of Gumshoe Video nearly cried out, spitting in his friend's hand when she asked and shuttering as soon as it wrapped back around his throbbing length.

He was already sweating, his hips thrusting forward to meet her fast pumps as he lazily looked at her aroused form. His breath was heavy, and his heart was beating fast just like hers.

"Fuck, fuck... I'm so close, please" a strangled moan left his throat as his hands held into his desk when his powerful orgasm hit his whole body like a train. White cum got shoot on the fabric of the costume wetting it all over and Y/n's hand, which was still pumping him, started a lazier rythm as she unconsciously rubbed her thighs together

"So pretty, Neil" the young woman praised softly, looking at him with a softer gaze after she started to clean him up carefully

"Did so good for me, yeah? Such a good boy" her compliments and praised continued till she finished her task and someone knocked at the office door searching Neil.

The shop was still open after all.

[inmydr3amz]

°⋆｡distractions

​🇳​​🇴​​🇦​​🇭​ ​🇷​​🇪​​🇪​​🇩​

✦ synopsis: in which you're noah's favourite distraction

⟡ content warnings: none just fluff!

✦ word count: 572

✮⋆ a/n: i wrote this instead of paying attention to physics. also i added some decor to his treehouse that wasn't actually in the movie bc i can. also @cxmryns4rchive saw this first ⋆✮

Noah's treehouse is your favourite hideout on the entire Vineyard—the island or his mother's. It's so him—it's got his personality in every corner.

The telescope by the window. The desk with his typewriter he writes all his articles on. The notebook and loose pages of short stories and abandoned articles thrown around on the table. His backpack, his baseball cap, his bat, his ball. The posters upon posters on every wall. The pictures of all his friends. The pictures of you. The bookshelf full of books. The beanbag. The blackboard he writes all his story ideas and leads on and that he lets you—and only you—draw little faces and doodles on. And the couch across from his desk at the opposite end of the room where you and Noah are sitting.

He's laying on the sofa, head on the armrest. You're on his lap, straddling his waist, and he's got his knees drawn up for you to rest your back on. You're holding his hands, tugging them around and playing with them as he caresses the backs of your hands with his thumbs.

He's in his baseball uniform. You love seeing him in it because god he looks good in red.

"Don't you have to leave for your game soon?" you ask, fiddling with his fingers.

He shrugs. "Don't worry about that."

You bite back a smile and tilt your head. "Noah," you scold.

"Y/NNNNN," he mocks.

You narrow your eyes, tonguing the inside of your cheek. For someone on the baseball team who loves the sport so much, he sure likes to find excuses to not go to his own games.

You're about to chastise him a little more when he tightens his grip on your hands and pulls you down into his chest. You yelp, pressing your intertwined hands into the armrest on either side of his head to stabilize yourself.

"Noah!" you shriek.

He laughs, nudges his nose against yours. "You know, I think we should just make out now."

You make a face of faux-annoyance. "Oh, you do, huh?"

He cuts off your grumbling by lifting his head and pressing his lips to yours. You smile into the kiss because fuck if he doesn't melt all your defenses.

"Mmmf—" You try and pull back to speak, to nag him about his game a little more, but he follows your head up and keeps his mouth firmly against yours.

Oh, well. Fuck his game. Making out is a good enough workout for you.

It's a couple more minutes of his mouth on yours and pure bliss before his mom starts calling for him. He doesn't answer. Maybe he didn't hear her?

She calls one more time. Two, three, four—ok, now he's just ignoring her.

"Noah—" you try.

"No," he says tightly, keeping his lips securely against yours. He sits up, a hand going to the small of your back as he slowly guides you to lay down—

"Noah, you're going to be late for your game! Get down now!" his mom yells again.

He groans and throws his head back, finally detaching his mouth from yours. "Fineeee!" he whines. When he turns back to you, he's pouting.

You laugh. "I told you."

He rolls his eyes, the hand still holding yours playing with yours fingers. "Whatever. You'll come and cheer me on, right?"

"Of course, I will."

He smiles and pecks your cheek.

[cowbell-ghuleh]

More Plushia nonsense.

Copia & Terzo managed to trap the little hell spawn unfortunately Secondo doesn't quite understand the gravity of the situation.

Another one of my stupid rough comics. Proper finished artwork is in the works but I've been a bit busy this week!

The interviews and other canon stuff from the Infestissumam heavily implies Secondo is quite cruel to his ghouls and they hate him which inspired this!

Links to the other "plusia series" artwork below the cut

[dynamicccsworld]

just a little theory of mine

Lemme just rant, I'm probably going to be wrong since it's a long ass time since I watched IT chapter one and two, and I haven't ever read the book. But eh!

Now, let's buckle up and talk about my little theory.

The forsaken missing poster, dun dun dun!

As most people on the Internet theorize, the missing poster is supposed to pray on Richie's feelings of being forgotten. (Which I agree on!)

Richie's whole personality is based on being loud and "obnoxious" which does drive the viewer to the conclusion that he needs/thrives on not being ignored. But, after I watched the movie a year or two ago; I had a different idea.

In IT chapter two, and the original IT novel; had both showed a brutal murder of a young gay man.

Atleast in my mind; it gives a slight different meaning to how the missing poster could be interpreted. The missing poster could represent Richie's need for attention, while also alluding to how Richie could well, die for being gay.

Also, in IT chapter two Richie is continuously mocked by Pennywise because Pennywise knows his secret; which we know is Richie's secret of being queer. This means that Pennywise likely knew of Richie being gay in the first movie as well. So who's to say the missing poster didn't have two meanings?

Richie's need for attention, and the idea his face could be plastered on a missing poster just like all the other queer victims who were murdered and forgotten in Derry.

[ieatedyourcrayons]

Askin for a Jeff the Killer x Male!Reader fic where the reader mirrors Jeff's personality quite a bit, im talkin cocky bastard with a joker laugh type shit, and at first he DESPISES the reader but quickly turns into a touble trouble duo :3 🔪❤🔪

Got you! hopefully you like it! kinda went on a yap session

no trigger warnings

Double trouble. Jeff the killer x male!reader

You were new to the slenderman mansion. Your cocky and straightforward demeanor fit right in with the others that lurked in the walls of the manor. Your blunt responses and manic behaviors pushed the infamous jeffery woods away from you.

Jeff couldn’t stand having someone like him around, he took offense to it, Does he think he’s better then me or something? is something Jeff thought everytime you opened your mouth.

Jeff didn’t bother giving you a chance at introducing yourself to him nor did he care for your introduction. He went out of his way to avoid you until one time you guys both wandered into the kitchen at 3:46 A.M.

You walk in the kitchen with the hopes of finding something to eat, you’ve been up playing your games all night, not caring to sleep, Jeff was doing the same, neither of you knowing.

As you’re rummaging through the fridge, a sudden voice startles you, causing you to jump, hitting your head on the fridge. “Oh it’s you.” Jeff mutters rudely as he grabs a bowl out the cabinet.

“what’s your problem?” you ask as you hold the spot on your head that you hit, your voice rough from the lack of talking and water

“My problem?” he scoffs, “what’s your problem?” He adds with a rude tone

“what are you even talking about?” you ask with genuine confusion as your stare at him dumbfounded.

“Oh cmon. don’t act like that, you think you’re better then me, you may have a pretty face but you’ll never be better then me dude” Jeff says rudely, his jealousy leaking through every word.

“What are you talking about? I don’t think i’m better than you. Two people can have similar personalities ya’know? You haven’t even given me a chance and I could care less about being you” You spit back , saying the “being you” with a mocking tone as you push your hair out of your face.

Jeff stands with an offended look on his face , finding himself unable to say anything realizing you’re right.. he’s overreacting and he really hasn’t given you a chance. Jeff’s expression quickly falls off his face and is replaced with embarrassment.

“…You’re right. i’m sorry bro i don’t know why i’m like this… How are you?” Jeff says with a sigh, hoping that you won’t hold this against him.

You sigh, not wanting to keep this tension between yall any longer. “You’re good, and i’m fine, i’ve just been on the game all night.. how about you?” You ask before turning back into the fridge and grabbing some left overs and bringing it to the microwave.

Relief washes over Jeff after you respond. “Really? same, i’ve been trying to beat elden ring for like 15 hours!” He laughs as he grabs some cereal and pours it in his bowl.

“Dude really? I can help you. i’m like.. a pro at elden ring” you laugh back before the microwave beeps, signaling your food is done. You quickly open the door to the microwave, stoping the beeping , and taking out your food.

“Yo will you actually help? I need it bad” He says, A hint of amusement behind his words. “Yeah dude, gotta help a brother out” you respond with a laugh before bringing a spoon full of your food to your mouth.

“Yes! thank you! oh uhm, what’s your name?” Jeff says hesitantly as he picks his bowl up and grabs a spoon, ready to go to his room.

“it’s y/n, and i know your name, jeffery” you tease as you two begin walking to his room, ready to put Jeff’s elden ring skills to shame.

Jeff jokingly cringes at your use of his full name. You guys enter jeff’s room, his walls littered with posters of movies and metal bands, clothes and other things scattered on his grey floor, the walls a dark red with led lights wrapping the ceiling boards.

You look around the room in admiration, “yo this is a vibe” you stare before shoving a spoon full of you food into you mouth “Fanks” jeff says with a mouthful of cereal in his mouth.

Eventually you two settle on the floor infront of jeff’s small monitor with an xbox controller on the floor infront of it. “Uh.. do you not have a desk?” you ask confused “eh i broke it” Jeff shrugs. You turn and look at him with a confused but amused expression before saying “understandable” with a shrug as you turn your attention to the screen.

———————————————————————————

You and jeff bond over Elden ring and shared trauma , Jeff realizing he would’ve missed out big time if he never gave you a chance. Now you two are inseparable and cause havoc in the manor, terrorizing everyone and going on missions together.