#all of the last moments in this movie are destroying me actually

[theautistichalflinghole]

Oh gods I forgot how devastating John's bite is

Like they're coming off this high after surviving an attack, they're even being silly and joking around with a recall to the before times

And just out of nowhere they get him, and immediately he's not even thinking about himself anymore, he sacrifices himself with all the remaining humanity he has to protect Anna, he saves her and she has to watch him die.

Like I'm so not normal about this they're literally the best friends ever like gooooooddddddd.

[iholli]

watching the Mario movie again reminded me just. how much raw mad respect I have for Nintendo's portrayal of Peach in the movie.

I've never been a Peach fan, in the games she's always been annoying and helpless and girly. And I went into the movie expecting the exact opposite, even worse-- the inexplicably already perfect insufferable bitchy girlboss who exists to belittle the male characters because "everything you can do I can do better." It's no secret I hate that female character troupe. And I went into the movie like, I'm going to hate Peach, she's going to make me roll my eyes every time she's on screen.

But she didn't.

Nintendo perfectly walked the extremely thin line between powerful and insufferable. She's feminine, but not annoying. Yeah, Peach is a girlboss, she's in charge, she holds her own, she doesn't really need Mario at all, she did the practice course the first try and she's ready to stick it to Bowser one way or another. But it makes sense for her ["I grew up here"]. She was raised and trained for it almost her entire life before stepping foot onto the course. She's not a bitch, she's commanding, but there's warmth and caring behind it. Her first instinct is to protect her subjects even at the cost of herself ["I'll marry you, just don't hurt my Toads"], but she gives everyone the benefit of the doubt [letting Mario explain himself even though he just broke in to her castle and she just threw him on the floor]. She's not annoying, she's kind and even tries to help Mario feel better about his failure ["now you're just trying to make me feel better." "no! no! ...is it working?" "kinda, yeah"], she gets genuinely excited when he wins battles ["you just don't know when to quit!" "I've never thought of that as a good thing." "That's a GREAT thing!"] even though at any time she could take charge and get her way on her own [she would've gone to the Jungle Kingdom herself even if Mario hadn't shown up, she obviously had a plan to win Cranky Kong over]. She doesn't need anyone to do things for her, but she's willing to let them. Because she sees that they can do it, too, and she's trusting them and encouraging that the whole time.

And that's a character troupe I can get behind.

[orchidniins]

Cupid Clarkey | Chris Dixon

Summary: George Clarke plays matchmaker for his best friend and his flatmate. Pairing: ChrisMD x f!Reader, Best Friend!George Clarke Warning: Fluff Word count: 9.3k+ A/N: Thanks anon for this request! The timeline in the fic sorta jumps forward quickly (just don't think about it too much😗 ). This is my longest fic ever and I would really appreciate feedback on it! Hope you enjoy it!

Masterlist

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Can you get off my Hinge already, Y/N?” George's annoyed voice cut through the blaring music of the pub as he tried (and failed) to snatch his phone out of your hand.

“I'm trying to find you a girlfriend, Georgie,” you retorted, laughing as you dodged his attempts.

You were currently squished into a booth in the pub, sitting next to George, both of you a few drinks in (though you were definitely more drunk than him), swiping away on his Hinge profile and bickering like you two used to back in uni.

Having just moved to London a few weeks ago, tonight was a reunion of sorts. You were meeting up with George and a bunch of other friends from your uni days.

You and him had met in the first week of school, initially sitting next to each other in class, which turned into late-night study sessions and eventually blossomed into a close friendship.

George rolled his eyes. “Oh please, like you’re any better at this than I am.”

“Better at what? Being single or being hopeless at dating?” you shot back, smirking.

“How long has it been since your last relationship?” George challenged, raising an eyebrow at you.

You scoffed and looked back at him. “And how long has it been since you’ve been laid?” you teased, swiping left on yet another profile.

“Oh, trust me, Y/N, I get action,” George shot back, a smirk playing on his lips.

“Oh please, the only action you’ve seen is from your right hand,” you said, laughing at him.

“Well, that’s a lot coming from you,” George countered. “You haven’t dated since that prick from uni.”

“I actually enjoy being single,” you said, shrugging. “All you do is cry about it. You always say you want a girlfriend, but you turn down every girl that approaches you.”

George snorted. “Say that to the pint of ice cream you finished last week in under an hour while watching that chick movie and bawling your eyes out about wanting a boyfriend.”

“Whatever,” you huffed, turning back to his phone. “Oh, you got a match! I’m gonna message her.”

“Absolutely not!” George exclaimed, finally managing to pry his phone out of your hands. “Maybe if you were a little less picky, you wouldn’t be single.”

You looked at him in shock and surprise. “Really? You’re gonna talk to me about being picky?”

“You say that, but you’re the one with the mile-long checklist, not everyone can be as perfect as me, Y/N.” George retorted, shaking his head.

“If you’re so perfect, then maybe we should just date, Georgie,” you said jokingly, nudging him with your shoulder.

The both of you went silent for a moment, staring blankly at each other. Then, simultaneously, you shuddered at the thought. “No!” you both said in unison, laughing.

“God, that’d be like dating my sister,” George said, acting outwardly disgusted at your joke.

You stuck your tongue out at him, making a face.

You two continue your bickering, the atmosphere in the pub buzzing with laughter and chatter from your group of friends. After a while, your friends scatter around the pub, leaving just you and George in the booth. Just as you're deep in banter, an unfamiliar voice interrupts you two.

“Hey man,” a voice said, and you looked up to see a man with blonde curly hair approaching your booth. George got up to greet him, and from where you’re sitting, it’s very obvious that he was quite drunk himself.

"Chris, mate, how drunk are you already?" George asked, as if he had read your mind, with a chuckle, clapping Chris on the back.

Chris laughed, his grin widening. "Chip's pub golf videos always destroy me," he replied, his words slightly slurred as he swayed a little.

Chris glanced over at you, his eyes momentarily focusing as he took in your presence. "Hope I’m not interrupting," he said teasingly, turning back to George, flashing a mischievous grin.

George chuckled and shook his head. "Nah, mate, you're good. Go get yourself a drink and join us." Chris headed off to the bar, and George sat back down.

Chris returned with his drink and slid into the booth, his easy smile and sparkling eyes catching your attention.

“So, who’s your friend?” Chris asked, nodding towards you with a playful grin.

“Y/N, this is Chris, the flatmate,” George introduced, gesturing between the two of you. “Chris, this is Y/N, the best friend.”

“Hey, nice to meet you,” you greeted Chris warmly.

Chris grinned back at you. “George is wrong, you know. I’m the best friend.”

“No, you’re wrong. I've known him longer, so I am his only best friend,” you say, as you laugh at him.

“Don’t need to fight, guys,” George interjects, “There’s enough of me to go around.”

“That’s just not right,” Chris replies, ignoring George. “I live with him. Do you know how much shit I put up with? Surely that makes me his best friend.”

You chuckle, “Okay…but have you had him shotgun a can an hour before a final, puke all over your bed, and then have to clean it up and make sure he gets to campus in time?”

Chris grins, “Alright, but have you had to deal with his shit love life? Or lack thereof? And like have had to listen to him complain all the time.”

You exasperatedly add, “Yeah! Actually, I have,” you say, nodding at Chris.

You turn to George. “Honestly, George mate, you're a mess. I don’t even want to be your best friend anymore.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Yeah, man, you’re kind of a pain in the ass.”

George looks between the two of you, bewildered. “What the fuck is happening?”

You and Chris exchange a look. “Maybe we should become best friends and ditch George,” Chris suggests, winking at you.

“Guys, can we go back to both of you fighting over me?” George says, and you and Chris burst out laughing at him.

You find yourself feeling instantly drawn to Chris's charm. After a bit of small talk, you learn that Chris had been out for a shoot and decided to drop by the pub where George was once he finished. You had heard George talk about Chris before and all the antics they’d gotten up to, but you hadn’t paid much heed to it until now.

And as the night went on and you got increasingly drunker, you found yourself sitting closer to Chris. George already knew this about you; you always got increasingly flirty and bolder when you were drunk—a stark contrast to your sober self. 

Usually, George was always one of your victims, jokingly hitting on him to piss him off, and he also always had to keep you away from creepy men when you were drunk. But now, with Chris in the mix, George honestly did not know what to say at the scene in front of him.

(A/N: I have no game whatsoever. Even if I did pull in the past, I was so drunk that I genuinely don’t remember. I did my best I promise)

“You’re pretty cute for someone who’s friends with George,” you say to Chris, a playful smile on your lips as you take another sip of your cocktail.

Chris grins and leans in closer. “And you’re pretty hot for someone who hangs out with him.”

You laugh, inching closer to him and playfully touching his bicep. "I know, I'm just naturally irresistible," you tease, giving him a sly look that hints at something more.

Chris chuckles, his eyes twinkling. “Well, I believe it. If you weren’t George’s friend, I’d have made a move on you the second I walked in.”

You raise an eyebrow, leaning in so your lips are just inches from his ear. “Who says you can’t make a move now?” you whisper, your breath warm against his skin. “Who knows, tonight might be your night.”

Chris’s breath hitches, his gaze darkening. “Is that so?” 

George groans. “You two are disgusting. Chris, stop hitting on her. Y/N get away from him!”

You brush off George, leaning even closer into Chris’s touch. “Ignore him, he’s no fun.” 

Chris says, "He's just jealous that I’ve got the attention of someone this beautiful," he murmurs back, his lips brushing lightly against your earlobe, his voice low and you hear George scoff in the back.

George rolls his eyes dramatically. “I can’t take any more of this. You two are unbearable.” He stands up, shaking his head. “I’m going to go close out our tab. You better be five feet apart when I get back.”

As George walks away, you and Chris are left alone, practically glued together at this point. “Looks like it’s just us now,” Chris murmurs, his hand migrating to your thigh, his touch sending a shiver down your spine.

You smile coyly, leaning closer to him. “And what do you plan to do now that it’s just us?” you tease, your voice laced with playful anticipation.

Chris chuckles softly, his breath warm against your ear. “When George told me about you, he didn’t mention how incredibly sexy you are. If I had to be around someone as gorgeous as you, I wouldn’t be able to control myself.”

Your heart flutters at his words, and you feel a rush of desire. “Well, it looks like you’re doing a pretty good job of controlling yourself so far,” you reply, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt.

Chris’s eyes darken with desire. “Who says I’m trying to control myself?” he murmurs, his lips hovering just above yours, lips so close that they are almost touching.

Before things could escalate further between you and Chris, George returned, breaking the intense moment. "Okay, I think it's time to get you two home," he announced.

Despite your protests, he manages to pull you off of Chris. As you stood up, the effects of the alcohol hit you, causing you to stumble. George quickly steadied you, his arm wrapped around your waist to keep you from falling over.

Realizing it was late and knowing you were in no state to go home alone, George insisted you crash at his place, which was closer than yours and the three of you hailed a cab back to the boy’s flat. 

Once there, George quickly dumps Chris in his room, before he sets you up in his own bed. He offers you some of his clothes to change out of your outfit and he opts to sleep on the couch for the night.

As you drifted towards sleep, the alcohol slowly wearing off, you couldn't help but rethink the events of the night. All your actions start to blur now, though a wave of embarrassment washes over you. You knew there would be consequences to face in the morning, but for now your body needed sleep.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next morning, you wake up with a pounding headache, the hazy memories of the previous night lingering in your mind. As the realization of your interaction with Chris sets in, all you wanted to do was bury yourself six feet under.

You stumble out of George’s bed, groaning softly as your head throbs. Dressed in George's oversized clothes, you made your way to the kitchen, clutching your head, desperately in need of coffee.

As you enter, you freeze at the sight of Chris, who’s already there, shuffling around in the kitchen.

He’s dressed in grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt, his hair tousled and the hangover evident on his face. You catch a glimpse of his abs when he reaches up to a cupboard, and despite your headache, you can’t help but stare for a moment, your brain going to dangerous places.

Chris turns around and spots you, offering a weak smile. You look away slightly embarrassed, fearing that you were caught staring. “Morning,” he says, his voice hoarse as he clears his throat.

“Morning,” you reply, trying to muster a smile despite the awkward tension that has settled into the air.

There’s a long, uncomfortable silence as you both avoid each other’s eyes, the memory of your flirtatious behavior lingering between you. Chris pours himself a glass of water, and you take the opportunity to grab a mug for coffee, hoping the caffeine will help clear your head. “Do you want a cup as well?” you ask, trying to break the silence.

“Huh? No, thanks,” he responds, clearly drawing himself out of wherever he had zoned out to for a minute.

“So, uh,” Chris begins hesitantly, stopping for a moment when you both hear George stirring on the couch. Chris gestures toward the balcony, and you grab your coffee and follow him outside. Once you two are there, you lean against the railing, both of you awkward, neither knowing what to say.

Chris is the first to break the silence, rubbing the back of his neck. “…last night…was something...I guess we were pretty drunk.”

“Yeah,” you agree quickly, trying to downplay your embarrassment. “Pretty drunk.”

He chuckles nervously. “I don’t usually… you know, act like that.”

“Me neither,” you admit, feeling a blush creep up your cheeks. “It was just the alcohol, I guess.”

“Definitely,” he nods, relief evident in his expression. “We can just, uh, forget about it, right?”

“Absolutely,” you say a bit too quickly. But, you feel your heart drop a little, though you don’t know why. Him wanting to not acknowledge what happened yesterday (though it was nothing) makes you slightly upset, but you don’t let it show on your face. You bury your face in your coffee, avoiding his gaze.

It was insane how comfortable you two were around each other last night, and now the air was replaced with this heavy awkwardness that neither of you knew how to break. And the worst part is you couldn’t even remember all that you did yesterday (But you're sure George won't let you forget).

“So, um, any plans for today?” Chris asks, trying to make small talk and pulling you out of your thoughts.

“Um, what? No, nothing. Just gonna get back to my place and crash,” you say, shaking your head. “You?” you ask him.

“Same,” he says. You nod in response, but neither of you knows how to continue. You both stand there, sipping your drinks and stealing glances at each other, the awkwardness palpable.

“So I should go,” you say, trying to get out of that situation as quickly as possible. Chris just nods, and you step back into the apartment, making a beeline for George’s room, just wanting to get out of there and back to your own space as quickly as possible.

All you can think is, what the hell is wrong with you? You weren’t usually like this with people…what is happening?

-------⋆✧⋆-------

After that day, George teased you endlessly about what happened with Chris. Each time, you brushed him off, ignoring his jabs, saying you didn’t want to talk about it or that you didn’t remember what happened, unwilling to revisit the embarrassing memories of that night.

You’d run into Chris a few times when you were over at the flat with George, but those interactions weren’t any better. Your interactions with Chris went from awkward to him just plain ignoring your presence now, and you didn’t know what you did wrong. Combined with how embarrassed you still felt about your actions, you decided it was better to just ignore him as well.

George would drop you knowing looks whenever that happened, but when he saw that you really didn’t want to talk about it, he eventually dropped the topic.

Until today, that was.

“I’m not feeling up to it,” you tell George, speaking with him over the phone.

“Come on, it’ll be fun. Just a movie night with some friends,” George tries to persuade you.

“I don’t know, George. I’m just not in the mood,” you reply, feeling a mix of anxiety and reluctance.

George sighs, knowing exactly why you’re hesitant. “Look, I get that things are awkward between you and Chris. But avoiding each other isn’t going to make it any better. We’re all friends here. Just come over, watch a movie, and relax. You don’t have to talk to him if you don’t want to.”

You hesitate, biting your lip. “I just... I feel so embarrassed about everything. I don’t want to make things weird.”

“See, I don’t know exactly what’s going on with the both of you, but I can tell you’re overthinking it. Things are only as awkward as you make them. We’ll have a good time, I promise. And if it gets too much, you can always leave. Just give it a chance, yeah?”

You sigh, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re right. I’m just overthinking. It’s not a big deal. I’ll see you in a bit.”

“Great! I’ll see you soon,” George says, the excitement evident in his voice.

And that is how you found yourself sitting on the floor in George’s flat, leaning up against the couch with "The Hangover" playing on the TV.

You were bundled up in a blanket, surrounded by scattered cushions, with the smell of popcorn in the air. George was sitting on the couch just behind you, lazily flicking popcorn at your head, which you returned by swatting him on the knee.

“Seriously, George, you’re worse than a child,” you scolded, turning around to look at him as another popcorn kernel hit you on the forehead.

“Can’t help it,” he replied with a grin. You whacked him on the thigh this time, but he still threw another piece your way.

It was just George and the Arthurs for now. Despite your cold conversations with Chris, you couldn’t help but feel a tiny bit disappointed when George mentioned that Chris would be running late. Even with the weird energy between you two, you were kind of maybe hoping to see him today.

You were enjoying yourself, though. You’d met Arthur Hill a few times before and got along really well, and this was your first time meeting Mr. Television (as George liked to call him), and you were having a great time with the boys.

You pull your focus away from George and instead decide to just watch the movie when you hear the door open, and your eyes dart to the entrance. Chris walks in, dressed in dark cargos and a black sweatshirt, his curls messy from the day and it made him look a little rugged, and all you could think about was how good you thought he looked.

He swings his backpack onto the floor and starts taking off his coat, before he greeted everyone.

Your heart skips a beat at how effortlessly attractive he looked. Despite the cold vibes he had been giving you this whole time, you couldn’t deny your attraction towards him.

Outwardly, you were trying to be cool about it, but inwardly, you were itching to know why he was acting like this. You give him a tight-lipped smile as you make brief eye contact, but he quickly looks away, heading to his room.

George noticed the exchange and shook his head slightly. You shot him a look that said ‘stop it’, but you knew he’d bring this up later.

After a few minutes, Chris joins you all, settling on the floor next to you while the others remain on the couch. Other than the occasional instances where you pass him the popcorn, he avoids eye contact, but you can sometimes feel his gaze on you, especially when you and George bicker in loud whispers.

You reach for the coffee table, grabbing a can of seltzer, about to take a sip, only for George to snatch it out of your hand. “George!” you exclaim, swatting him on the arm before you wipe away the few drops of the drink that he managed to spill on your shirt.

You think you hear a chuckle from Chris, but when you turn to look in the direction of the sound, his eyes are glued to the TV.

After a bit, Chris gets up and heads to the kitchen. When he returns, he silently hands you a drink. You take it with a small, surprised smile, touched by the sweet gesture even if things between you two are still a little awkward. "Thanks," you murmur.

He nods in response, his genuine smile making your heart flutter before his eyes flick away from yours, and you feel yourself melt.

As the credits roll on the third film, George nudges you and suddenly pulls you into his room.

“What the fuck is going on with you and Chris?” George asks bluntly, shutting the door behind him.

You sigh, running a hand through your hair. “Honestly, I have no idea. After that day at the pub, it’s been so weird. I don’t even know the guy, and I feel like he hates me or something. Is he like this with everyone he just meets?”

George frowns, looking apologetic. “Not really… Normally, you can’t get him to shut up.”

“I get such cold vibes from him,” you admit, frustration seeping into your voice. “What did I do wrong?… Whatever, I don’t care, but its annoying.” You pause, then add with a small, reluctant smile, “It doesn’t help that every time I look at him, I drool.”

George responds, slightly shocked, “I—I’m sorry, what?”

You roll your eyes and say, “I’ve been single for so long that I’m even attracted to your shitty friend.”

George laughs, shaking his head. “He can get on your nerves, but he’s not that bad. But, he can be a little socially challenged around people he—”

George stops mid-sentence, seeming to have a moment of realization, his expression shifting. “Huh.”

“What? What’s wrong?” you ask, confused.

“Nothing, don’t worry about it,” he says quickly, disappearing out of the room before you can press further.

You stand there confused for a second before you return to the living room, where Arthur Hill and Arthur TV was tidying up. You decide to join them, looking around, wondering where George and Chris had suddenly disappeared to.

You help them gather the empty bottles and snack wrappers, making small talk. Just as you're finishing up, George and Chris reappear, both looking shady as hell, whispering to each other. 

You look at George, giving him a pointed look. "What was that about?" you whisper, nodding toward Chris, who was leaning against the kitchen counter with the Arthurs, laughing about something.

George shrugs, trying to play it cool. "Nothing, just guy talk."

You give him a look. "Tell me."

"Really, it was nothing," he insists.

You roll your eyes, annoyed. "Fine, whatever, don’t tell me. I need to get home anyway, it’s getting late."

George quickly checks the time on his phone. "It’s almost midnight. Why don’t you just sleep here?"

"I just wanna be back in my own bed. At midnight is not that late, and I barely live like a 15 min walk away," you explain to him.

"You can just as easily walk home in the morning," he says.

Before you can protest, he continues, "You know what, fine. But I don’t want you going home alone." He turns toward the kitchen and shouts, "Chris! Do you mind driving Y/N back home? I would do it myself…but can’t drive mate."

Chris whips around, looking between the two of you, clearly flustered at George’s request. "Uh, sure, no problem."

You quickly interject, "It's okay, I can get home on my own. I don’t want to trouble you."

Chris clears his throat. "It's no trouble," he assures you, grabbing his keys. "Let's go."

You grab your stuff and walk out the door with him. The ride down in the elevator is silent. You play with your nails, trying to avoid his gaze, while he shifts uncomfortably beside you. When you reach the car, Chris opens the door for you, and you thank him. "Thanks, Chris."

"Don’t thank me yet," he jokes as you both buckle up. "I’ve only had my UK license for a month now, so we’ll see how this goes."

You look at him, slightly alarmed. "Seriously? Get me out of the car."

He laughs, and you join in. "I know how to drive, I just haven’t driven much since I moved to London."

Some of the tension eases, and you both relax a bit. He hands you his phone. "Can you enter your address into the GPS?"

You do, and as he starts driving Chris glances at you, "So, why did you move to London?"

You smile, happy to have a conversation starter. "Work, mostly. And also ‘cause I have friends here.”

He nods. “So, you liking London so far?”

You nod, looking at him as you speak. “Yeah, I like it. But the city gets overwhelming sometimes. Sometimes I just wanna run back home.”

Chris nods in agreement. “Same, especially when I miss my family. And I get it, sometimes you need to get away from George.”

You chuckle, wanting to keep the conversation going. “Be honest with me… how have you not killed him yet?”

He laughs, responding, “I won’t lie, I’ve plotted his murder many a times.”

You both laugh, and the conversation continues, light-hearted and easy. For the first time in like a month, the conversation between you two feels natural. And before you know it, you’d reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the ride, Chris," you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

"No problem," he replies, his smile genuine. The air goes silent as you both stare at each other.

"Umm... goodnight," you say, quickly getting out of the car, feeling a tad bit awkward.

"Goodnight," he responds, and you gently close the door.

He waits until you're inside the building before driving off, and for the first time, you feel a warm, hopeful sensation in your chest and you can’t seem to wipe away the smile on your face the whole way up to your flat.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

The next day, you and George meet for dinner after you’re done with work. “I can’t believe he’s engaged”, you say as you move your food around on your plate, letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Why do you care?” George asks between bites of his burger. “You hated him by the end of your relationship.”

“I know, but why does someone like him get to be happy?” you sighed. “I’m just tired of being single. Why is it so hard to find someone half decent?”

“Maybe you’re looking in the wrong places,” George says, trying to sound all philosophical.

You raise an eyebrow. “What are you on about?”

He shrugs, laughing as he says, “Maybe you should date Chris.”

You almost choke on your drink. “Chris? Really? Chris? We can barely hold a conversation!”

George smirks. “Didn’t you say you guys got along fine last night? And don’t get me started on drinks last month. And don’t lie to me…you think he’s hot,” he says, making a fake gag face.

“What? No, I don’t,” you protest. “I might be desperate, George, but not desperate enough to date your friends.”

“What’s wrong with dating one of my friends?” George mocks hurt.

“I was kinda hoping that once I got a boyfriend, I just wouldn’t have to see you anymore,” you joke.

George clutches his chest dramatically. “Ouch!”

The drive with him the other day was fine, more than fine and he was kind of sweet actually. You laugh, but the thought of dating Chris stays on your mind, an idea that you might not be all that opposed to. -------⋆✧⋆-------

A week had passed since your conversation with George, and despite trying not to let it affect you too much, you couldn't deny still feeling on cloud nine after that drive with Chris (even if it was barely 10 minutes long).

You and Chris were now following each other on social media. You'd occasionally chat or reply to each other's stories, gradually warming up to each other. You found yourself craving more time alone with him, curious about what it would be like to get to know him better.

But right now, you were looking forward to a quiet weekend in, finally getting to that book you had been putting off for weeks now. With a cozy blanket wrapped around you and a hot cup of tea, you settle onto your couch, eager to dive into your book.

Just as you start to get lost in the pages, a notification pops up on your screen. You peek over at your phone and see a text message from George.

George: Hello best friend Y/N: What do you want? George: Wow. Warm welcome Y/N: Fine. Hiii Georgieeee….What do you want? George: So you know how you are the smartest, strongest person I know 🥺 Y/N: Just spit it out 🙄 George: Can you please come over and help me build that dresser I ordered for my room? Y/N: And there it is... George: So..?  Y/N: No, don’t want to. George: Pleaseeeeee….I’ll buy you food Y/N: No George: Come on, please 😩 Y/N: No….you’re gonna make me do all the work George: I won’t...and I’ll throw in dessert  Y/N: You’re impossible  George: 👀 Y/N: Fine….See you in 10  George: 🫡🙇

With a sigh, you set your book aside and started getting ready to head over to George's place. Not bothering to change out of your comfy sweats, you threw on a jacket and made your way out.

When you arrived at George's flat, you knocked on the door and waited. To your surprise, Chris answered, looking equally surprised to see you. "Hey, Y/N. What are you doing here?"

“George asked me to come over, said he needed help building his dresser”, you explain, and Chris steps aside, letting you step inside.

Chris says, “Hmm, he asked me to help as well, after complaining for a straight 5 mins about not wanting to do it on his own.”

"That little bitch," you huffed, pulling out your phone from your pocket.

Y/N: Where the fuck are you!!??? George: Sorry emergency Y/N: What?  George: Please help a guy out Y/n: Why!? It’s your dresser! George: Chris will help Y/N: Wait George: Bye

You breathed out in frustration, realizing all too well what George was trying to do. Deep down, though, you were somewhat glad to have some time alone with Chris. Fingers crossed you'd be able to hold a conversation today.

You huffed and shoved your phone in your pocket, then turned to face Chris. "Yep, he's ditched us, the bastard," you said, looking back up at Chris who was watching you with an amused expression.

Chris chuckled, and you felt a bit self-conscious. "What?"

"The Powerpuff Girls?" he asked, a small smile curling up on his lips.

"What? I'm here to build furniture, not walk a red carpet," you replied, glancing down at your pajamas, trying to appear nonchalant but secretly cursing yourself for not dressing better. Chris just laughed, shaking his head.

“Great…it’s just the two of us." you said, catching Chris's attention as he looked at the unpacked table pieces that George had left for you.

Chris raised an eyebrow, a playful smirk on his lips. "You act like it's a bad thing."

You chuckled, picking up a screwdriver. "Let's just survive this project together first."

"Survive? Geez…It's just an Ikea dresser," Chris teased, walking towards the scattered pieces.

"Yeah, but have you ever tried assembling furniture with George? He pulls everything out of the box, doesn’t organize anything by the way, then he just gives up and leaves you to figure stuff out," you vented, holding up a loose screw you found on the floor a good distance from the table for emphasis.

Chris laughed, shaking his head. "Can't say that I have. Lucky for me you’re here to pick up the pieces," he joked lamely, and you couldn't help but roll your eyes, letting out a small laugh at his attempt.

"Let’s just build this stupid thing," you said, walking towards the mess.

Chris chuckled. "Yes, ma'am," he replied, looking around for the instruction manual.

Chris sighed in frustration, looking through the jumbled pieces. "Damn, where did George put those instructions?"

"Knowing George, he probably already threw out the instructions with the outer box," you said, half-jokingly. You fear you might be right, shuffling through everything and not finding the booklet.

You sit on the ground and try to organize the pieces, placing everything into neat piles. Chris picked up a piece and moved to place it in what he thought was the right pile.

"No, not that one," you said, pointing to a different pile. "Put that there."

Chris chuckled. "You're a little type A, aren't you?"

You grinned. "That's not the insult you think it is." You laughed lightly, enjoying the banter.

The two of you get on with trying to put the piece of furniture together.

Chris was completely engrossed in screwing in the legs, his brow furrowed in concentration. You couldn’t help but notice how his features hardened with determination, and you find him extremely attractive in this moment.

"You're really into this," you teased lightly, nudging him with your elbow as you passed him the next piece.

Chris glanced up, a playful glint in his eye. "Of course. Gotta impress you with my handyman skills."

You chuckled, kneeling down to align a set of screws. "Impress me, huh? Well, if you can get through this without instructions, color me impressed."

“Prepare to be amazed, Y/N,” Chris replied with a grin, returning to his task.

Your eyes involuntarily lingered on his arms, noticing how his t-shirt hugged his muscles snugly. You found yourself imagining running your hands across his arms and over his chest, remembering how you felt that night when inhibitions were lower.

Chris's voice snapped you out of your daze. "Sorry, what was that?" you asked, needing him to repeat his words.

"No, I was just…" Chris paused for a moment, sitting on the floor, pausing the task at hand. He hesitated as he looked up at you.

"Go on, what is it?" you encouraged him, curious about his question.

He started cautiously, "I've always wondered, why did you and George never date?"

You laughed softly, surprised by the question. “George? I don’t know, it’s just something that never happened. I don't even think either of us ever even considered our relationship to go that way”

Chris gives you a skeptical look, "Really? Not even once?"

"Not even once," you confirmed, shaking your head. "George and I have always been more like siblings."

Chris nodded softly, as if processing your answer. "Good to know."

Though slightly taken aback by his reaction, you chose not to dwell on it for too long.

“How did your shoot go this week?” you ask him.

Chris perks up a little, clearly pleased by your interest. "Oh, it was great! But it did go a lot longer than usual. I'll blame that on Arthur and his terrible football skills. But the audience will never find out. I should probably pay my editors more for making him look somewhat competent at football."

You both laugh, and Chris continues to talk about YouTube and some of his ideas. You can't help but smile at how passionate and happy he sounds when he talks about his work.

After a while, you two pull yourselves out of the conversation and get back to finishing the dresser. 

"So, if you had to rate my IKEA furniture-building skills, what would you give me?" Chris asks, a playful grin on his face as the two of you now sit on the couch.

"Hmm," you ponder, pretending to be deep in thought. "Solid seven."

"Seven!?" Chris asks, feigning outrage, leaning in a little closer. "I thought I did pretty good."

"It would be higher, but you get distracted easily," you tell him, the space between you and Chris now barely a breath.

"Well, you were the one distracting me," Chris says, and you're taken aback by his comment. Your mouth falls slightly open, suddenly very aware of the proximity between you two.

Before you can respond, the door swings open, and George walks in, looking between the two of you with a mischievous grin. "Well, you two seem to be getting along well." You quickly get up from your place next to Chris.

You stare back blankly at George, arms crossed over your chest. "How was your... emergency?"

George's grin widens. "All sorted," he replies nonchalantly, before turning around to enter his room. "So which one of you is gonna help me move the dresser into my room?"

You and Chris exchange annoyed looks, then smile at each other, his smile exceedingly tugging at your heart, before you both scream, "Do it yourself!"

-------⋆✧⋆-------

Over the next few weeks, you and Chris had become friends, finding yourself spending time with him more often. You still couldn’t believe that just a few months ago you two couldn’t even look each other in the eye. 

However, it seemed like every time you made plans with George or any of his friends, Chris was always there, and you two would magically end up alone together. You didn't think much of it, knowing that as much as you loved George, you hated him meddling in your love life, and he knew that as well. So, there’s no way he was involved, right? (Or maybe, deep down, you hoped that all the time you’ve been able to spend with Chris was somewhat of a sign and not your nosy best friend getting involved.)

You were at George’s place yet again (where else could you be? You only had like two friends) and helping him clean out his closet, stuffing his old clothes into donation boxes.

Slyly, you asked, “Where are the rest of your flatmates?”

George replied, “You know…they’re around,” without making eye contact, his back turned to you.

“And Chris?” you asked, slightly hopeful.

George looked up at you, almost as if he was wishing that you hadn’t asked that question.

You caught his expression, furrowing your eyebrows in worry. “What’s wrong?”

George placed the T-shirt he was folding gently into the box before turning to look at you. “Okay, so don’t get upset.”

“Why would I get upset?” you asked, a little concerned.

“Before I tell you, know that I told him not to do it,” George started.

“George... speak,” you demanded, poking him in the chest.

“Chris is out on a date,” he finally said.

You feel your heart plummet to the pit of your stomach, “Oh, good for him.”

George looked at you, clearly noticing your attempt to hide your disappointment. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?” you said, trying to brush it off and distract yourself by placing more clothes into the box.

“Y/N, come on. You really don’t think I know you better than you know yourself?” he looked at you matter-of-factly and you were struggling to maintain eye contact with him.

“I’m fine, George,” you tell him, trying to get him to drop the topic, but he only looks at you like he doesn't believe you.

“Y/N. I know you like Chris”, he states and you feel your whole body freeze.

“What? No, I don’t,” you retorted, and honestly, even you couldn’t believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“Y/N—”

“George—”

“I see the way you look at him, Y/N, and when he speaks, you hang on his every word,” he interrupts you.

“George, no... Chris and I, we’re just barely friends,” you try to explain to him.

“I know you two had a rocky start, well, a drunk and touchy start,” he teased, dodging the T-shirt you threw at him, “but you’ve grown closer over the past few months and I think you’re just in denial about your feelings. Plus you look like you wanna jump him every time you look at him.”

You sat there on the edge of the bed for a minute, thinking about what George had said. Yes, things were a little iffy at the start, but you had grown to like his company. He was funny, quite sweet, and in recent times, easy to talk to. Not to mention, every time you looked at the man, it was like your brain short-circuited at how hot he looked.

George carefully considered his words before continuing. “You’ve always been like this, Y/N…cautious.”

As his words sank in, it dawned on you.

“Holy fuck, George! I like Chris,” you exclaimed, falling back onto the bed. “How did this happen? I feel like I’ve gone insane. When did I become so blind to my own feelings?”

George watched you in amusement, a small smile playing on his lips. “Took you long enough to admit it.”

“But–-,” you sat up, turning to George who was now sitting on the opposite corner of the bed, “there’s no way he likes me back.”

“Eh?” George responded, confused. “Why would you think that?”

“Because the guy is literally on a date right now,” you say, exasperated.

“So?”

“What do you mean, “So”? If he liked me even a little bit, he wouldn’t be going on dates,” you say, throwing your hands up in frustration.

“Probably because he doesn’t know you like him. Just tell the guy,” he suggests, his face soft, laced with concern.

“I can’t do that,” you look at him, your voice coming out almost broken.

“Why?” George comes to sit next to you, placing a comforting hand on your back.

You take a deep breath before you continue, “Because things just got somewhat good with him. We’re finally past that awkward phase and are friends now. I don’t want to go back to that cold phase when he ultimately rejects me.”

“He’s not gonna reject you, Y/N,” he says, throwing his arm around, pulling you into his side.

“How do you know?” you look up at him.

“For Christ’s sake, Y/N, just tell the guy how you feel.” he says, as he pulls away from you so that you’re both now facing each other.

“No, I can’t do that,” you said, getting up off his bed and heading out of his bedroom.

“What, Y/N! Where are you going?” he asked, following you.

“Home,” you said, making a beeline for the door.

“Why?"

“So that I can go to bed and wake up and forget about all of this,” you said looking back at him, hand now on the door knob.

“Y/N…”

“Bye, George,” you said, before opening the main door and closing it behind you, confusion and uncertainty swirling in your head.

-------⋆✧⋆-------

“Here,” Arthur Hill handed you a drink, and you threw him a quick thanks, quickly gulping down the liquid. Arthur looked at you, concerned. The party was lively around you, the usual chaos of a house party at George’s place.

George had convinced you to come to the party, saying it’d be a good distraction, to get your mind off of things—things being Chris. 

George had promised you that Chris was busy tonight and wouldn’t be here, so you reluctantly agreed (though George had to beg a lot more than he was hoping he’d have to).

You had only arrived a few minutes ago, and you already wanted to leave. You just wanted the peace and quiet of your room to contemplate about your doomed love life and drown your sorrows in a pint of ice cream.

“You okay?” Arthur asked, pulling you out of your daze. “You look distracted.”

“Hmm? Yeah, I’m fine,” you replied with a half-hearted smile and you were grateful that Arthur didn’t push any further.

"I'm gonna get myself another drink," you said, and Arthur nodded in response before you navigated through the crowd toward the kitchen.

You made yourself a drink, pouring whatever bottle of alcohol was closest to your reach into your cup, wanting something strong. If you couldn’t drown yourself in ice cream, alcohol would have to do. (Not your smartest idea, but oh well.)

You took a sip of your concoction, the liquid burning as it flowed down your throat. You turned around but just as you were about to head back to find Arthur, when you spotted him. Chris.

He was the last person you wanted to see right now, but you couldn’t take your eyes off him. How did he manage to get even hotter than the last time you’d seen him? (Honestly, it was torture.)

But there he was, talking to some girl you’d never seen before. The sight felt like a punch in the stomach, knocking the air out of your lungs. All you wanted to do was leave. You placed your drink on the counter and set your sights straight at the door. In your haste, you didn’t pay much attention to your surroundings and bumped into someone. Looking up, you saw it was George.

"Whoa, where's the fire?" George asked, blocking your path.

"George, I need to leave," you said, trying to sidestep him.

“Why? What happened?” he asked, but before you could answer, he glanced over your shoulder and saw Chris. “Oh, I see.”

“Just talk to him, Y/N,” he tried to persuade you. “Whatever the outcome, it’ll make you feel better.”

“George, are you crazy? I can’t” You looked up at him, and the vulnerable look in your eyes made his heart break.

“Fine, but please don’t leave. Just take a breather for a minute. You should at least stay and enjoy the party,” he insisted. You opened your mouth to protest, but he cuts you off, “Just stay in my room for a bit. You can come back out after a while.”

You agreed, knowing he wouldn’t take no for an answer, and turned towards his room. “Good,” he said, pushing you gently by the shoulders.

Once you were in his room, you turned to look at him. “Now stay put, I’ll be right back.” You nodded, and he headed back out of the room.

You took a seat on his bed, and before you knew it, you heard the door open. Expecting to see George, you froze when you found Chris instead.

“George, what are you doing?” Chris protested as George pushed him into the room. “Stop, bro!”

You got up and shout, “George! What the hell?”

“You two talk,” George said, pointing at both of you before quickly shutting the door. You heard the lock click.

You rushed to the door, trying to turn the knob, but it wouldn’t budge. “Bastard locked us in,” you said to Chris.

“George! Let me out!” you protested, banging on the door.

“Not until you two talk to each other,” George yelled back.

You turned to find Chris looking just as surprised as you. “Well, this is awkward,” Chris said, rocking back and forth on his feet with his hands shoved into his pockets. “I might be wrong...but I think George wants us to talk.”

You sighed, leaning against the door. “Yeah, he’s a lot of things… but subtle, he is not.”

Chris chuckled. “What gave it away?”

Your suspicions were right. That motherfucker had been playing you this whole time, getting Chris to drive you home, finding ways to get the two of you to spend time alone, locking you in his room. And you’d walked right into it. Idiot.

“That slimy little shithole,” you muttered to yourself.

You laughed out loud. “So George seems to think we would make a good match.”

“What?” Chris said, looking nervous.

“Did you not realize?” You looked at Chris, and he was staring at you with an unrecognizable look on his face.

“Well…” he started sheepishly, scratching the back of his head. “I kind of knew.”

“What do you mean you knew, Chris?” you asked, confused.

“I mean, I knew George was trying to set us up, he sort of told me he would, that day that you were over at our place for movie night.” he admitted.

“I’m sorry…?” you ask him again, arms crossed.

You raised an eyebrow. “And you were okay with it? Why didn’t you say anything?”

Chris sighed. “I promise, I told him not to! And I just didn’t know how to bring it up..... But honestly, I didn’t mind. I liked spending time with you.”

You felt your heart skip a beat. “What? You liked spending time with me?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ve kind of liked you since the day we first met in the pub.”

“But that was months ago,” you said, incredulous. “Why didn't you say anything till now?”

He sighed, looking down for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I don’t know. All I know is that every time I look at you, it’s like the words leave my mouth. Of course, I wanted to talk to you after that night, but I didn’t know what came over me every time. You’re literally the most gorgeous woman I’d ever laid my eyes on, and each time I wanted to ask you out, I’d choke up.” “But what about that date?” you asked, trying to process everything. “If you liked me so much, then why did you go on a date?”

Chris looked a little guilty. “George told you about that?” You nodded before he continued, “You can’t blame a guy for trying to move on, especially when a girl like you couldn’t possibly like me back,” he said softly.

You shook your head. “Chris, I… I’ve liked you too. I think I’ve liked you the whole time. But I didn’t think you did, especially after how everything was after we got drunk that night.”

Chris stepped closer, hope in his eyes. “You like me too?” he asked again, making sure he wasn’t wrong about what he heard.

“Yes, Chris, I like you too,” you responded.

“So we’re both hopeless in the love department?” he asked.

“Yep, looks like it,” you said, laughing. “So hopeless that we needed Cupid Clarkey to get us to finally admit our feelings.”

You both stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.

Chris stopped to look at you, stepping even closer. “God, I love your laugh,” he said softly, and you looked at him shyly.

“And you have the most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen,” you stepped closer as well and he flashes that gorgeous smile of his, the kind that gets your stomach in knots.

He said, “You know, I regret nothing from that night.”

You replied teasingly, “Really?”

He nodded, “Well, there’s only one thing I regret.”

You asked, “And what’s that?”

He said, “That I didn’t get to kiss you,” as he tucked a stray strand of your hair behind your ear, his eyes go dark and intense, piercing into your soul.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” you whispered, and with that, Chris crashed his lips onto yours.

The kiss was everything you’d dreamed of and more. His arm snaked around your waist, pulling you closer, while your arms made their way around his neck and your hand tangling into those perfect curls of his, tugging slightly, earning a groan from him.

The kiss was filled with so much emotion, both of you pouring everything into it—all the pent-up feelings from the past months. It was intense, and full of passion and tenderness, leaving you breathless. You could feel his heart pounding in sync with yours, the heat between you two electrifying. It was as if the world had melted away, and there was nothing but this moment.

Chris pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” he whispered.

You smiled, feeling the warmth of his breath against your lips. “Me too.”

Before either of you could say anything else, you heard a slight thud outside the door. Chris gave you a knowing look, and you raised your voice intentionally louder. “Well, George’s bed looks nice doesn’t it? I think he just put new sheets on.”

Chris chimes up, “Maybe we should use it. We’re locked in here anyways. Might as well make the most of our time.”

Immediately, you heard George unlocking the door, bursting into the room. “Okay, get out, both of you. I don’t want you two fucking on my bed.”

You and Chris burst into laughter. Chris scooped you up playfully and ran off to his bedroom, shutting the door behind you two.

Once you were in his room, he slowly placed you on the ground, then pulled you onto his lap as he sat at the edge of the bed.

“So... I think I should ask you properly,” he said, looking up at you.

Chris leaned in, his forehead resting against yours. “Now that you know how I feel about you, what do you say we give this a shot? Will you go out with me?”

You nodded, heart pounding in your chest. “I’d like that, Chris.” and he flashed you a smile.

“We really should be thanking George,” he said.

“Yeah, normally I hate him meddling, but this time I don’t mind. But please don't tell him that, or I'll never here the end of it,” you said as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

Chris grinned. Forget about it then, I just want to kiss you again.”

You laughed, and with that, you closed the distance again, letting yourself melt into his touch. The feeling of his soft lips sent a shiver down your spine.

This moment felt perfect, like you fit together in a way that was always meant to be. His arms wrapped around you securely, pulling you closer, and you could feel the steady beat of his heart against yours. You hated to admit it, but George playing cupid had turned out to be the best thing that could have happened to you and Chris.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Bonus Fun Facts (cannon to this AU):

- George did find your drunk closeness to Chris disgusting, but he didn't really care if you snogged his friend or not. He pulled you off of Chris more out of fear of what you would do to him if he let you make any drunken mistakes while he was around. - During your conversation after movie night, George realized that Chris had a crush on you. - He and Chris disappeared off onto the balcony and he managed to get Chris to fess up that he was in fact into you. - George said he'd gladly meddle. Chris told him not to meddle. George meddled. - He knew you two hopeless idiots would not give each other a chance without a gentle push in the right direction. - George did in fact tell Chris not to go on the date, bringing up his crush on you. - Chris said that he was sure that there was no way you liked him and that you had not shown any interest in him. He did not want to make you uncomfortable by making a move on you so he decided to try and forget about his crush. - Could George just have told you that Chris liked you...yes? But did he instead choose to play cupid for his own amusement, of course he did. - Plus you hadn't explicitly told him that you liked Chris and he didn't want to dump that news on you. But then he realized that you were too thick when it came to your own feelings..so he did just dump it on you. - George realized he had to kick his matchmaking skills up to a 100 (and yes his best idea was locking you to in a room). - Of course he eavesdropped, and the next morning he did in fact not let you hear the end of it.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

A/N: Thanks for reading guys! I'm trying to get through all my pending requests now that I'm back. Also tell me if you liked the bonus facts in the end. I realized that there were things I wanted to include that I didn't want to put into the main fic, so I just threw them in at the end. I personally like it, so I think I'm going to start throwing them into my fics from now on.

Check out my other fics and oneshots here. Not working on any new requests currently but feel free to drop into my asks for a chat! 😊

[daedelweiss]

“LIFE MISSION: SAVE MY BROTHERS” 💖 The Red Knight’s Mission (Episode 1: The Buried Memory Page 28-41)

and, finally, the last set for this episode. this was actually harder to get through compared to the rest of the sets, physically and emotionally 😭 drawing leo grieving broke me and i cried like a baby sketching that panel. i wish i could add more panels in but i didn't want to drag out the comic too long and give myself too much work. it was supposed to play out similarly to "E-Turtle Sunshine of the Spotless Mind" where leo's memories pushed back against him to avoid painful memories but i feel like that would've destroyed the vibe and somberness of the softer moments. plus it'll make the episode much MUCH longer. also leo didn't actually lose the colors of his scarf. it was more for symbolic reasons. and if the last panel of page 35 looks familiar, i took inspiration from the movie and imitated the expression mikey had when he tried to open the portal for the third time to save leo. (no, i did not trace it) it may or may not be foreshadowing for later 🤭 and yeah, the comic will be taking a hiatus……. to make more of the comic 😂 dw it's not for mental health or personal life reasons… actually it's partly that because i have an upcoming VISA interview 😭 bUT i'll still be making LM stuff behind the scenes, dw >:3 next episode won't be as drama or action packed as this one but… we will meet raph for the first time 👀 i'm really rEALLY excited to work more on the comic, and that's TWO reallys! i just hope y'all will be patient with me because it is no easy feat working on this. i love it but i'm only one person, after all 😄 thank you so so much for supporting this comic again! comments and shares are very much appreciated! 💖 BEGINNING / PREV / NEXT EPISODE (coming this april) •

( 🌿 please do NOT repost, edit, trace, use, and/or sell 🌿 )

[iouinotes]

Heartbeat | Seth Cohen

pairing: Seth Cohen x female!reader

show: o.c California

warnings: kissing, arguments,

summary: Seth is your best friend and he's trying everything to win Summer's heart. You on the other hand would do anything to win his heart and make it beat for you.

author's note: I'm probably the last person on earth who hasn't watched this series. But hey, new potential for ff. By the way, please tell me I'm not the only one who thinks his voice sounds like Dylan O'Briens...

The way I love him is like the waves on the open sea on a beautiful day.

While the sun shines on my skin and my bikini slips slightly, revealing my sun-kissed skin, I try to secretly look at him.

The way his brown curls are wet from the blue sea or how his muscles tense as he pulls his shirt over his head.

I hear a sigh of relief escape from his mouth and have to giggle to keep myself from laughing at his swimming trunks.

Showing one of his cartoon characters, red and dark tones that highlight his pale skin even more.

And when he turns his head and smiles at me, relaxed in a way, as if there were only the two of us in the whole world, he has never looked more beautiful to me.

"Are you daydreaming, sunshine?" Oh, his teasing voice and that look in his eyes- what wouldn't I give to finally have him for myself.

"You'd like to know, Cohen." I grin slightly at him as I answer him. His raised eyebrows and the heat around us make my head spin.

"Okay, let me guess. Are you thinking about the party tonight at my parents' house and what you want to wear?" For a moment he looks out to the sea, reassuring himself that we are safe, until he finally lies down next to me with his arms outstretched above his head.

Rolling my eyes, I quickly answer him.

"Girls don't just think about parties and dresses, idiot." His brown eyes, which are now looking at me invitingly, make the butterflies fly around in my stomach.

"But was I right?" When I try to turn his head away with my hand, he holds mine tightly. But immediately afterwards he strokes my skin tenderly and my thoughts need a moment to sort themselves out.

"Whatever. And just because you started it, I'm going to wear my new blue dress. The one I brought to your room earlier, remember?" The triumphant smile on his face is worth every single word.

For a few seconds, all I can hear is the cries of the seagulls and the sound of the waves. I'm almost starting to doze off when his voice rings out again.

But this time my joy is dampened by his next sentence.

"Today is the day, you know? I'm pretty sure Summer will at least remember my first name by the end of the night." The sinking of my heart feels almost too painful to answer to him.

What else did I expect? Summer has been on his mind for years, every minute of the day since he first saw her.

Seth, on the other hand, has been in my heart since the first time we met. On a rainy day at a skate park, while I was just lost and he was practicing his tricks.

To this day, I can remember the moment when his brown eyes became the most beautiful sight in the world for me.

Nothing has changed ever since.

"Yeah, sure." It's always the same. His never-ending crush on her, the ever-growing hope that is destroyed with each and every one of her withering glances. The dejection in his eyes, as if his happiness would melt away as soon as she was near him.

I can never do anything about it. Because no matter how many times she ignores him or puts him down, her attention is the spark in his heart that never extinguishes.

Because what can I do? Summer is pretty, sassy and popular in our social circle. She makes every boy weak in the knees, worshiping her even though she never shows serious interest.

Seth is blind to it too, he just wants her attention. That she remembers how his name is.

I know his name. His favorite comics. His hatred towards bad movies or his nervous habit of talking endlessly without it making actual sense. I know his sarcasm, his heartbreaks, and his commitment to dreams.

But that doesn't seem to be enough. Because when he looks at her, he sees the sun. I, on the other hand, am a small star that doesn't shine bright enough to be noticed.

So as we fall into silence and I try to suppress my sadness about my unrequited love, he hums softly next to me.

����🌊🌊🌊🌊

When we return from our little trip at sea, the sun is almost setting. My gaze falls to the floor and as I listen to his excited voice, I wonder how it would feel to hold his hand.

As we walk up the stairs to his room and I greet his father as I pass, I recognize the look in his eyes as he opens the door for me.

"Oh come on Seth. It can't be healthy for you to think about her for every free second of your day." With a sigh, he throws himself onto his bed with his back showing to me.

"I just wonder why she doesn't see my potential. I would be a great boyfriend."

Yes, for me.

"That's probably because you follow her around like a lost puppy. Compared to the water polo guys, that's a drastic difference."

When I carefully take my dress down from his door that I hung there a few hours ago, his eyes clouded with pity follow me.

A little ritual for us before every big celebration. Getting ready together, like boyfriend and girlfriend. But I immediately push the thought away.

"But everyone likes puppies. At some point she'll look at me and realize that we would make a great couple." Shaking my head, I pat him on the shoulder.

"Everyone has their dreams, Cohen." I meet his gaze as he thoughtfully glances back at me, suddenly meeting my eyes with a newfound interest.

"What are you dreaming about?" The curiosity in his my voice makes me smile.

"Well, it may be a bit cheesy but I wish for… a person." At my words his eyebrows raise and as he sits up straight, I suddenly feel constricted.

"One person for...what? Carrying your bags while you're shopping? I'm already in charge of that." Laughing, I tuck a strand of hair behind my ear.

"I didn't mean that. Even though that's nice, no argument there. No, I mean a person with whom I can experience my first times. You know, the first date, the first romantic kiss. The first vacation shared together...the first time sleeping together, feeling each others heartbeates. That's what I dream of."

As I finish my last sentence, I look at his face. See his rude stare and his open mouth.

"Wow, I- I didn't know you wanted all this so much." Shrugging my shoulders, I turn around to stroke my blue dress. Trying to hide my heated cheeks.

"It's not going to happen anytime soon anyway, so I guess I'll just have to keep dreaming." The silence that follows is almost painful.

"Nevermind. Also, we only have an hour left to get ready. We'd better hurry." He roles his eyes at my attempt to change the subject.

"You say that every time and you always beg me for another five minutes at the end." As I take off my sandals, he narrowly avoids a pair I throw at him.

"Be quiet, Cohen."

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

Kirsten had outdone herself. The decorations, the guest list, the food selection. It was all perfection.

As I look out the window of Seth's room, I repeatedly brush a strand of hair out of my face. My heart beats faster with each passing second of silence and I feel my cheeks turning pink as Seth comes out of the bathroom.

The black suit, a red tie and the neat curls. This view is even more perfect than the one outside.

You'd think I'd be able to hide my attraction to him better by now, but when I audibly catch my breath, he looks at me critically.

"What? Does that scream my-mother-picked-out-my-wardrobe too much?" The crooked grin on his face makes me think dramatically long about my answer.

"Everyone knows you're a mama's boy, so it won't hurt your aura." The hand that comes to his chest as he sucks in air makes me giggle.

"Damn, that was mean. But do you think Summer likes mama's boys?" As soon as he says her name, it’s sounding like a prayer from his lips, I try not to show my disappointment on my face.

"Seth-" I sigh, trying to pull myself together. After all, he's still my best friend and I don't want to hurt his feelings. Even if it means hurting my own.

"What?" Innocence swims in his eyes and again, I wish I could tell him the truth. Instead, I continue to play matchmaker.

"I know best how much you want to impress her. But please trust me when I tell you that it always brings bad luck when one person loves their partner more. There has to be a balance." But my words don't seem to have any effect.

"I will bring balance to the force-" The laughter that escapes from his throat makes me shrug my shoulders a little more relaxed now. He knows he got me, when I can’t seem to stop smiling.

"Nerd. Come on, Skywalker, it's time we both show up at the party." Nodding, he closes the door and as we step out onto the bright terrace with the sun shining on us, I feel peaceful.

Unfortunately, the feeling only lasts two hours. Or more precisely, until Summer, the beautiful, graceful, mean Summer, enters the Cohens' house.

Since that moment, I have had an overexcited, confused, useless boy next to me who can't stop embarrassing himself.

"Do you think I should get her something to drink-" I interrupt his speech for the first time in three hours.

"If you don't stop this right now, I swear I'll never ever surprise you with comic books again." The threat actually makes him close his mouth.

"Why are you in such a bad mood? Do you need a drink?" If he hadn't said it so sarcastically, I would have found the question sweet.

"Seth, I can handle a lot of things in our friendship. Your never-ending sarcasm, your inappropriate jokes or your ability to always say the wrong thing to people. Hell, I can even deal with your love for cartoon characters and your obsession with video games on a daily basis. But talking about Summer every second of the day, twenty-four hours a week? That has reached my limit."

While I try to keep my voice low, the confusion is written all over his handsome face.

"But who else should I share my despair with? You're the only one who's really interested in what I have to say." His words hurt a part of my heart that I cannot describe.

"Exactly. I'm interested in you. Not how pretty Summer looks or what Summer just said, did, or might do in the future." For the first time that evening, he actually seems to understand what I'm talking about.

"So...change of subject?" Relieved, I have to start smiling lightly.

"Yes, please." As we smile at each other at that moment, it feels, for once, like I have his full attention.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

As soon as I open the door to the ladies' room, I wish I could immediately turn around and leave.

In front of the mirror, her face looks at me skeptically.

I try to act like she doesn't bother me, even though there are so many things I'd like to say to her.

"Aren't you that girl who's always with Steven?" I look at her, clearly confused.

Rolling her eyes, she continues. "The nerd with the brown curls, his parents own the house, I heard."

"His name is Seth." She shrugs and applies her lip gloss. Her eyes alternately focus on me and the mirror in front of her.

"Whatever. Are you together?" I feel heat rushing to my face and as I try to answer relaxed, she seems to see right through me.

"What- together? No- we're friends. Just friends." As she turns to me now, she raises her eyebrows almost disinterestedly.

"Really? Then why are you looking at him like you're in love with him?" I turn away from her curious stare and try my best not to let my nervousness show.

"You must be mistaken. He's my best friend." As she stands two steps ahead of me, I don't know what to say.

"That doesn't mean you don't have feelings for him. What about him?" Sighing, I can't try to deny it any longer.

"He doesn't." When I see compassion in her eyes, I start to like her a little.

"Then change that. He's just a boy. Show him what he's missing out on. A little skin showing, a few compliments. He won't realize what's happening until he's begging you to let him kiss you." I look at her, laughing, and for a moment I dare to dream.

"What if he likes someone else? How can I keep up?" With elegant steps she walks past me and opens the door.

"Then you have no choice but to outdo her."

When the door closes, I am left alone with my thoughts.

🌊🌊🌊🌊🌊

As Seth loosens his tie, I am still deep in thought.

After my conversation with Summer, the party was over quicker than expected. Seth and I watched some of the guests, joked about the age difference, had two glasses of expensive wine and had the time of our lives.

All without talking about Summer again.

Now that I'm here in his room and we're getting ready for bed, I'm unsure about my next steps.

I usually sleep on his bed while he puts his mattress on the floor. Since we were little, this has been our approach to spend the night together.

However, tonight I want it to be different.

As I remove the clips from my hair and the makeup from my face, Seth talks incessantly about the latest Legion comic.

It's reassuring to listen to him like this while I think about my next steps.

We usually change separately, there's just a certain intimacy in being so open and showing yourself in your underwear.

But Summer said I have to go for it. Why do I listen to her? I don't know to be honest. I just think I should seize this moment of courage.

So I stand up and breathe in gently, trying to behave as inconspicuously as possible.

I slowly take off my dress and as it falls to the floor, Seth's head turns in confusion towards the noise.

"What have you dropped now- oh" I can literally see his eyes double in amazement and he almost chokes on his words in surprise.

I have to smile when I notice how he can't stop looking at me in my lace underwear.

1:0 for me.

"Are you still breathing, Cohen?" When I see him swallow, I turn my back to him. His reaction is so intoxicating that it fills me with renewed confidence. As my hair brushes my back, I finally hear his chatter.

"What- yeah- I'm just- I'm fine- are you fine? Has it gotten warmer in here? Are you warm? It seems so, otherwise you wouldn't be undressing in here. God, no girl has ever undressed in front of me." Laughing, I pick up one of his shirts with the stupidest designs, but there's still nothing I'd rather wear.

When I put it on, it covers me down to my knees and as soon as I turn around, I meet his gaze.

"We're not nine anymore, Seth. I think our friendship can handle us changing in front of each other." As I walk towards him, his gaze wanders along my legs.

"Er- sure. Of course, no problem. I- what?" My fingers slowly stroke his shirt, carefully grasping his tie as I begin to untie it completely.

"Do you think we can go to sea again tomorrow? This time we are not under any time pressure." I feel him stiffen slightly under my touch as he tries his best to stay cool. Well, as cool as Seth Cohen can be.

"Sure- maybe around one o'clock? Ryan is probably doing something with Marissa anyway. Doing god knows what- wait. I shouldn’t say his holy name out loud, when they are doing certain rather unholy stuff. Why am I saying this? I just mean, that we can both sleep in, I guess. And we can stay awake a little longer tonight." When his tie finally comes completely loose, I gently place my hands on his chest.

I meet his gaze as I raise my head, now so close to him. Our faces are only inches apart. I can see the brown in his eyes and the blush that adorns his face as he stops rambling.

"Yeah? What do you want to do?" Maybe this is the moment he finally realizes that Summer isn't the only one who exists in this world.

Maybe he'll finally notice me now.

"Teach me how to flirt?"

Did the world just stop turning? Or is it just my heartbeat that has stopped? Just with his words, just with the way he looks at me.

As if he no longer wanted to shy away from this tension between us.

"Flirting is an art, Cohen. I don't know if you're capable of pulling it off." His subsequent eye roll and the hand that he places pleadingly around my own make me reconsider my next actions.

At least now I can finally reveal my affection to him.

"Please, I'll go shopping with you. Even to the men's department so you can pick out my clothes. Just teach me." Surprisingly, I pause at his words.

"Even if I put sweatpants on you?" His face twists slightly.

"Yes, even if I have to wear sweatpants." I smile, brushing my hair back. As my eyes focus on his figure, a thousand thoughts race through my head.

"Okay. First step: your posture. I know how much you like to dramatically gesticulate your sentences with your hands, but you should avoid that when you're trying to flirt. You have to stay cool, confident. But still polite, not as if you don't care about the answer." Nodding, he listens attentively to each of my words, trying to understand the intention behind them.

"Like this?" I see him put his hands behind his back and stand there stiffly, his curious look ever present in his eyes.

I laugh and shake my head. "Not quite. Here, I'll show you." My hands move to his own ones, pulling them forward. Slowly I stroke his knuckles, but when I notice his opening mouth at my gentle touch, I let them go.

"Put them in your pockets. Stand up straight, but don't try to force it. Just relax." When he puts his hands in his pockets and stands with his foot slightly at an angle, he looks so carefree for a moment that I almost fall for the trick myself.

"Convincing enough?" Nodding, I try not to let the sight burn too much into my memory.

"Keep that up. Next important step. Your language, the way you speak. If you're going to flirt, it has to be seductive. You have to make me hang on every word that comes out of your mouth." As if I don't already do that.

As his eyebrows draw together, I see the confusion in his pupils and sighing, I speak up again.

"Try talking to me." I wait invitingly for his next move.

"Hey, uh what's going on?" When he doesn’t speak any further, I intervene.

"Okay, maybe I should show you how to do it first. Firstly, you need to try to initiate a conversation." I take a quick breath and try to relax my shoulders to prepare myself.

As I wrap my fingers around his collar and slowly stroke down his shirt, I see him swallow.

"Did you enjoy the party?" I try to maintain eye contact with him while keeping my voice a little quieter and giving more meaning to my words. I can literally see the gears turning in his head.

"I-I did?" When he stops speaking, I put my hand on his chest, circling the pattern of his shirt.

"Don't you want to ask me what I liked the most?" I see how he closes his mouth, trying to find the right words, as if he suddenly doesn't know how to talk to me normally anymore.

"What did you like best?" I smile sweetly, slowly sliding my fingers into his neck and playing with his brown curls.

My heart beats louder than ever, when I notice the expression on his face as I caress his hair softly.

"You."

It is this one moment when the world makes sense. When the eternal waiting, the torment of the last few years and the stupid boy in front of me finally makes sense.

Because his eyes wander to my lips and I feel his breath across my face as our bodies are drawn to each other like magic.

His lips almost brush mine, we are so close together that my mind is unable to think of anything other than his touch.

What it would be like to kiss him.

"Is this still part of the lesson?" His breathless voice makes me smile.

"Well, do you want it to end?" I have to laugh at his lips as he quickly shakes his head.

"What-what should I do?" I stand slightly on my tiptoes so I can whisper in his ear.

"What every princess wants from her fairytale prince. Kiss me."

He leans slowly into my touch. With every breath he takes, I can feel his arms sliding around my waist as his curls brush my forehead. He licks his lips uncertainly and when I look into his eyes, full of affection and the desire to kiss me, I fall in love with him even more.

"You don't know how long I've been waiting for this." Confusion adorns his features and I try not to let my strong heartbeat distract me too much when I finally tell him the truth.

"Waiting for what? Me?" Laughing, I close my eyes for a moment, reveling in the feeling of his closeness.

"It's always been you for me, Seth. When I said, "You're unbearable"? In my head, I wanted to spend every second I'm in this world with you. Or when I always roll my eyes when you stumble over your words, as if you're afraid it would bore me too much and I would stop listening to you. Because I would never do that. God, I practically hang on every word that comes out of your mouth."

As astonishment takes over his gaze, I feel a blush creep over my skin. What do I have to lose now?

When he answers, a loving smile adorns his face, coupled with a brief shake of the head.

"So I was unconsciously flirting with you the whole time? You know, step two?"

"You don't have to flirt with me for me to fall for you, Cohen. I fell already, hard."

His eyebrows rise, his nervousness changes almost abruptly to a smug expression.

"Is that so? Even though I talk about Captain Oats for two hours, when I was telling you his story from my childhood?"

"Why do you think I'm still here? No one would listen to that, not even me, if I hadn't been thinking about how good you looked in your sweater."

"Very shameless of you, Captain Oats would be disappointed by your little interest in his life."

"And would Seth Cohen be disappointed if I'm too interested in his life to pay attention to anything else?" Grinning, he pulls me closer to him.

"I'm pretty sure he'd be flattered." His lips hover over mine as his words cast a spell over my mind.

"Then I guess I should do that more often." Slowly, I push him back and let him fall onto his bed while his eyes roam over my body.

"Oh, definitely. You can do anything you want." Smiling sweetly, I move closer to him until I sit down on his lap. His hands find their own way to my thighs, stroking my bare skin.

“I can hear your heartbeat, Cohen. Are you nervous?“ I smile as I tease him, roaming my fingernails over his chest.

“I don’t do nervous. But indeed sunshine, my heartbeat is that noticeable, because you‘re making it beat faster. You‘re making my time on earth feel faster and I would‘t want it any other way.“ Smiling in the kiss, I stretch my hands around his neck.

Being with Seth Cohen isn't always easy, but I guess love isn't either.

[f1nalboys]

What Happened to the Cat? ; Randy Meeks

Ghostface!Randy Meeks x Fem!AFAB!Reader

a/n: long time no see! thank you all for being uber paitent with me as i deal with some irl stuff, i appreciate it and the kind words you all have sent into my ask box so much!!!! any and all thoughts are welcomed; lmk how you guys enjoy this take on ghostface ray :D

WORD COUNT: 9,434

WARNINGS: smut, DARK MATERIAL AHEAD, MAJOR DUBCON bordering on noncon tbh. just tread carefully. ghostface!randy, incel!randy, degrading and misogynistic language throughout, knife play, pain play, choking (unsexy kind), costume sex, predator/prey dynamics, primal-esque behavior from randy, coercion, chasing, stabbing, blood, wound fingering (you’ll see), oral + fingering (afab receiving), threats of anal, missionary, randy is actually so fucked up and evil in this one i apologize but not really, cliffhanger-esque ending, proofread but its me.

“Let me lick your pretty piggy cunt, Y/N.”

The ever-familiar modulated voice crackles in the receiver, the hair on your neck standing up on end even as you recognize where the phrase is from. You’re standing in the middle of the hallway, front and back door on either end, dread building in your gut. Ghostface. Every iteration of the son of a bitch has been haunting you for years now, from high school to college and beyond, destroying everything you have known about yourself, your loved ones, and the world, all in the palm of his gloved hand. And here this one was, quoting fucking Black Christmas to you like this was all a joke.

The realization that you had rewatched the movie with your roommate, Randy, last night hits you like a ton of bricks. This fucker had been watching you.

“Fuck you, you freak.” 

“Touchy, aren’t you?” He says with a sharp laugh. “You won’t be sayin’ that when I’m fucking you with my knife, now will you, bitch? Sticking your fucking nose in where it doesn’t belong, right? Looking into shit you should’ve left alone.” His tone cuts through you and you whip around, heart pounding in your ears. Of course this had to happen tonight. It was a rare one where Randy had left to go to dinner with some of his friends. “What? Cat got your tongue?”

There’s a creak behind you.

Your head jerks to the side, the flash of black fabric and white plastic darting down a hallway making your stomach flip. Your body is one second behind your brain. You’re screaming at yourself to run, to get to the back door and follow the foot path around the house to your car, to get to the house phone and call for help, to get the fuck out of there. Just as your foot finally begins to move, your head twisting to face forwards, a hand is grabbing your collar and yanking you backwards. 

The wooden floor under you is slick, your feet flying forwards as you hit the ground. Pain shoots up from your tailbone as you yelp and the edges of your vision turn black as his hand moves from your collar to your scalp. “Let go!” You shout, hands coming up to grab at his wrist as his fingers tangle into your hair, the feeling of the strands being pulled from your scalp nothing compared to the ache in your skull when he slams your head back down onto the floor twice.

You’re dazed, eyes squeezed shut as you groan. Your hands cradle your head, fingers warm and sticky with your blood. By the time your vision refocuses, he’s on top of you, knees digging into your side and his knife pressed at your throat. “P-please! I’ll do anything, please don’t kill me!” You manage to choke out, going silent when you feel the blade dig into your flesh as you swallow heavily. He says nothing, just cocks his head to the side. 

“Anything?” He repeats and your eyebrows scrunch together for a brief moment; the voice you were hearing now was familiar. It was kind, soft, an edge of something darker to it, but missing the distinct crackle and depth of the voice on the phone. For a second, you wonder if this is a prank that one, or more, of your friends were trying to pull on you. But then he’s pushing the knife closer to you, nicking the thin flesh of your throat, free hand planted by your head. “I knew you were a fucking slut.”

Suddenly the knife is tossed to the side and his gloved hands are wrapping around your throat, cutting off your oxygen. Your hands instantly reach for his wrists, trying to pull him off of you, your eyes widening in fright as his grip doesn't loosen. Inside your chest, your heart beats at your ribs, overcompensating for the lack of oxygen in an attempt to keep your body going. When his grip tightens further, and your eyes feel like they're beginning to bulge out of your head from the pressure, you change tactics. 

Your mouth is opening and closing in a desperate, fish-out-of-water way to get air as you begin to punch at his chest. Your actions grow more desperate as the seconds tick by, the only sound you can hear being your own heart beat and his grunts as his thumbs dig into your trachea. The sight of the white mask, the dark all consuming eyes, begins to grow fuzzy as your hands punch and claw at any part of him you can reach. The man behind the robe is not particularly large, but he’s stronger. Couple that with catching you off guard and it was no wonder that you were here, trapped under the mysterious figure, the life being choked out of you. 

Clutching at his robes, you stare into the blacks of the mask where the eyes are and you think about Randy coming home and discovering you dead on the floor. You can imagine him dropping to his knees beside you, grabbing ahold of your shoulders and shaking you, his hands trembling. Your fingers begin to loosen around the fabric, shaky hands reaching up and clumsily tugging at the mask. 

He shakes his head a few times, jerking it out of your touch with an annoyed grunt, his grip loosening every so slightly. You manage to grab a hold of the chin and pull it off, determined to see who was killing you and make them look you in the face, really look you in the face, while they were doing it. Maybe you could somehow manage to leave a clue behind to their identity for-

“R-Randy?” You choke out, voice hoarse and nearly unintelligible. The mask hits the wood floors with a soft thud, his grip tightening as you say his name, but you don’t fight back. You stare up at him, right into his blue eyes. 

His hair is tousled, wet with sweat. His pink lips are parted, his chest heaving as he blinks down at you, tanned cheeks flushed pink. “Don’t fuckin’ look at me like that.” Your vision grows blurry again as you realize Randy, your roommate and best friend, the person you had been tracking down Ghostface with, was Ghostface. He was the one killing you. 

He lets go of your throat. 

“Fuck!” Randy says, grabbing the knife and holding it just above your throat as you gasp and sputter underneath him, eyes squeezed shut. The oxygen burns as you breathe in, coughing, black dots swimming across your vision. You try to blink through the blurriness; you can see the bright pink hue to the apples of his cheeks, a bead of sweat rolling down the bridge of his nose as he narrows his blue eyes at you in accusation. “Why the fuck did you have to do that for?”

It’s almost enough to make you laugh. Here he is, a knife to your throat, and he’s mad at you. 

Your mouth opens, cracked lips parting to tell him to go fuck himself, but all that leaves your throat is a choked noise. Pain rips through your esophagus and you flinch, stomach churning at the realization you can’t speak. Your eyes blink back the tears that threaten to spill down your cheeks once more as you swallow, looking at Randy. 

His eyes are searching your face, and it’s clear to you even now, with the knife against your throat, that you seeing his face had taken the wind out of his sails. He’s nervous, head cocking to the side every few seconds and his jaw rhythmically clenching as he stares down at you. 

“Fucking bitch.” Randy finally spits, his face morphing into disgust. “You fuckin’ ruined it all. Nosy cunt, just had to stick your nose into shit that didn’t concern you.” His voice is low, gravelly, and spit collects at the corner of his lips as he speaks. You’ve never heard him speak this way; a crude joke here and there, sure, but never something this vile aimed at you and you alone. “Is this what you wanted, huh? To make this harder for me than it already is?” 

His voice cracks and as the fuzz on the edge of your vision begins to go away, you can see a tear slide down his cheek. Randy angrily wipes it off of his face with the back of his gloved hand. Wetting your lips, you brace yourself for the pain. “R-Randy,” you start, voice hoarse and cracking. He’s breathing hard, shoulders heaving with effort, but he remains silent. “...Why?”

It’s the most you can choke out right now and thankfully he decides to answer right after scoffing. “Why?” Randy’s head cocks to the side, searching your face, his knees digging into your ribs. You let out a small whine of discomfort at his weight on top of you. “You were gonna figure it out, you know.” The change in his voice makes you still, eyebrows scrunched together at the softness in his tone, as if he were sad about what he was saying. “I knew you would. I couldn’t let that happen… you’d tell everyone.” 

“Wouldn’t… I wouldn’t…” Talking still hurts but lessens as the minutes tick by. “I… I wouldn’t have told anyone.” Randy tsks, shaking his head. 

“I’m not an idiot. I know you.”

“Please, please just let me go, Randy.”

“You know I can’t do that.” Fresh tears prick at your eyes, lips thinning slightly as your chin quivers. Randy grunts, averting his gaze for a moment. “Stop looking at me like that.” He says sharply, digging the knife back against your throat. All the blade does is spur your tears on. “Jesus Christ, stop crying!” The knife is pulled away and you suck in a blubbering breath before the crack of his palm meets your cheeks. 

You yelp, hand coming to press against the swelling flesh as he leans down, hot breath ghosting against your cheek. “Do you want to live?”

The tone of his voice makes your blood chill. Sharper than the knife in his hand and just as cold. You sniffle, your chest tight as you nod. A small sob escapes your lips and he smiles. “Please don’t kill me, Randy.” Begging seems redundant at this point but you realize there is nothing you can do but try. “Randy, fuck! Fuck, please don’t kill me, I don’t want to die!” You sob, a blubbering fucking mess underneath him. 

He tilts his head to the side slightly, an amused smirk on his face. “You wanna know something?” He asks, ignoring your tears and dragging the tip of the knife down your cheeks carefully. “I’ve always imagined you underneath me crying. Knew you’d look pretty.” He sighs softly, wetting his lips, pulling back as his eyes search your fear-stricken face. “Anything?”

“W-What?”

“You said you’d do anything,” he repeats, shifting his weight back, a wild look in his eyes you’ve never fucking seen before. It’s enough to make the hair on the back of your neck stand on end and a wave of nausea hit you. “You wanna live that bad?”

Something in your gut tells you to say no, to fight and struggle and to die with some fucking dignity. But it’s Randy. Your best friend, your roommate, the person you trusted more than yourself. An hour ago, you never would have thought he was capable of this. You nod your head once, a tear sliding down your warm cheek as his smile grows more affectionate.

“I knew it.” He says, pulling the knife away from your neck where it had been loosely pressed. He tosses it to the side, the clang as it hits your hardwood floors making you flinch. His gloved hands are suddenly all over you, leaning down and harshly pressing his lips to yours. His teeth smash into yours as you grunt in surprise, his tongue forcing its way in, a parasite finding a host.

You’d be a liar if you said you never thought about kissing Randy before. Of course you did! He was a sweet, funny, goofy guy you had been through terrible tragedy after terrible tragedy with; it was hard to not think of him in that light. You never made a move, and, like always, he didn’t either. You would often lay in bed, eyes closed, knowing Randy was in the next room over, and think about what kissing him would be like.

It’s rougher than you imagined.

Randy moans, pulling back from you to suck in a few harsh breaths, a string of saliva connecting you two. “Fuck,” Randy moans, his voice thick. His blue eyes darken, his lids heavy as he stares down at you. “God, you’re a good kisser, you know that?” His familiar goofy smile spreads across his pink face and you do your best to ignore the flipping of your stomach.

“Y-You are too.” You say as your voice cracks slightly. His smile grows further and you wonder briefly if his cheeks hurt. A wave of disgust washes over you as he brings his gloved hand up from your side to cup your cheek, and you turn your head to the side. “Are… are you done?”

Randy blinks. “Done?” He asks, a laugh bubbling up in his chest. You grunt, face feeling warm in embarrassment and nervousness as his knees dig further into your ribs. “Nah, I’m not done yet.” He finally says, his smile twitching. “I mean, I can get the knife if you’ve decided you’re done…?” He motions to the blade just beside him, watching your eyes lock onto the steel. “If you’re feeling brave, though, you can try and fight me off.” 

“What?” 

“I said,” he grabs the knife with one hand and your wrist with the other, shoving the handle into your shaking hand. “If you’re feeling brave, try and fight me off.” There’s a light to his eyes you’ve only seen when he talks about his favorite movies, a kind of glee that you had a hard time not teasing him about previously. Now, however, there was nothing fucking funny about it. The knife is heavy in your hand, weighed down by the souls it’s taken already.

Your eyes widen, glistening with unshed tears as you look at him. “I… I don’t want to fight you,” you say shakily. “You’re my friend, Randy.” He scoffs at this, snatching the knife from your loose grip and the mask from beside you. He stands, towering over you, and panic hits you as he goes to put the mask back on.

He was going to kill you unless you convinced him otherwise, and Randy was very stubborn. There were only a few things he loved, and, thankfully, you knew them all. 

“W-Wait! I’ll do it!” 

“You’ll do what?”

“I’ll… I’ll fight, or whatever. That’s what you want, right?” You ask, staring up at him as he pauses, your heart thudding in your chest. He could put the mask back on and sink the knife into your gut without a single word; you just had to trust he wouldn’t. “Y-you always say the chase is your favorite part.”

Randy cracks a smile. “That’s why I like you,” he says, crouching down beside you. “You always got me. Really got me, in ways the others didn’t.” It’s true, you realize. While Randy was popular and had lots of friends, he had told you time and time again how it seemed like you were the only one who actually heard him. It used to make you feel good. 

Now all it does is make you feel sick. 

“You must really want to live, don’t you?” He asks, voice dark as he peers down at you. Shakily, you nod, swallowing down the bile that steadily felt like it was crawling up your throat. Randy grins as his eyebrows raise, tucking under the wet strands of hair sticking to his forehead still. “Alright, fuck it. I’ll chase you and you can try and escape. You make it out the front door, and you can live. You can run off to the cops and tell them everything. But,” his grin sharpens. “If I catch you… I get to do whatever I want to you.”

“Are you going to kill me?”

He shrugs. “Maybe. Depends on how worked up you get me.” Randy smiles, wetting his bottom lip as his eyes trail down your figure beside him, still frozen on the floor. The heat behind his gaze makes your skin crawl and your gut swirl, the two sensations twisting and turning inside you. “I’ll probably do something else first, though.”

Randy’s hand reaches out, grabbing at your tit through your pajama top. His grip is rough as he squeezes the fat between his fingers, letting out a growl-like moan at the feeling. You let out a shudder, turning your head to the side as you squeeze your eyes shut and press your lips together. He huffs, letting go of your breast and grabbing ahold of your chin, forcing you to look back up at him with a scowl.

“Get up. I’m giving you five seconds, and if I catch you, I’m fucking you until I decide to kill you.” 

His voice is void of all emotion, roughly letting go of your chin as he stands, and his words make you scramble upwards onto your feet. You stumble down the hallway, mind reeling as you try to think of what to do. 

“1…2…” The back door is too far. Randy was quick on his feet, he’d reach you before you got the deadbolt undone.

“3…4…” Randy tugs on the mask, voice muffled as he counts. The knife is held tightly in his hand, robe loose at his ankles. Your only option is upstairs. The steps are just to your right and you sprint towards them, feet hammering heavily against the wood as you hurry up them. You could lock yourself in your room, or maybe get to the attic with enough time to pull the door down. 

“5… Ready or not,” Randy watches your figure disappear up the steps, a wild grin on his face under the mask as he starts after you, thundering up the steps two at a time. He uses his free hand to click the modulator on again. “Here I come, bitch.”

You’re at the landing, turning down the hall to sprint to your room, when you see the ghostly white mask staring up at you. Randy swipes the knife at your feet as he stomps up the steps and you narrowly avoid it, letting out a yelp as you haul ass. Slamming the door shut behind you and locking it, you look around for anything that could help.

He’s at the door in seconds, his fist banging against the wood as you run to the opposite side of your dresser, grunting with effort as you try to push it in front of the door before he can break through. “Let me in, you fucking cunt!” He snarls, now throwing his body against the door. He’s growling with each hit, the sound  of splintering wood making your palms slick with sweat. “I just wanna see what your insides look like!”

The dresser scrapes against the grain of the floor, ignoring the pleas and curses spilling from your lips faster than you can think. After an agonizing few seconds, you manage to get the dresser in front of the door just as Randy begins to break through. You scream, stumbling backwards as his hand, holding the knife, pushes in through the split in the door he caused. 

The knife swings wildly, blade glinting in the light of your lamp. His arm retreats and he’s back to slamming his body weight against it, the dresser loudly scooting further from the door each time. Your time was running out. In a few seconds he’d be in here with you and that would be it.

You rush to your desk on the other side of the room, throwing things off as you search for something, anything, to protect yourself with. The sounds of Randy forcing his way in grow muffled, like you’re underwater. Your hands wrap around the metal scissors as he finally breaks in, and you turn around, wielding them in front of you with shaky hands. 

“Look at this.” He steps inside the room, standing with the knife in front of him. His shoulders are heaving with each breath he sucks in, and though he wears the mask, you can almost see the grin he’s giving you. “I didn’t think you’d get this far, if I’m being honest.” He steps forwards and to the right, hugging the wall as you side step him, keeping yourself at the same distance away, moving to the left. The two of you slowly, carefully, circle the rug. “I mean, you’re smarter than most girls, but I figured you’d be a pretty easy kill.”

“Fuck you!”

“There’s that fire!”

“This isn’t a fucking joke!” You snap, eyes narrowing in anger. The room is thick with tension, a standoff between a fawn and a wolf. You tighten your grip on the scissors, jaw clenching at the slickness of your palms. Your hearts beating against your ribcage, your stomachs in your ass, and yet, even with the thick sludge of fear that is coursing through your veins and weighing you down, there’s another feeling. It’s deep in your stomach, buried under the rubble, but it’s there.

Lust.

Randy laughs, head cocking to the side as he continues to move, slowly, carefully. Each movement he makes is calculated, directly reflecting your own. You wish he didn’t have the mask on, that he’d stop being a fucking coward and let you see the extent of his enjoyment for torturing you. “I know it’s not a joke, Y/N. I’m taking this very seriously.”

He lunges forwards slightly, knife shallowly stabbing into your gut. You yelp and stumble backwards, hitting into the wooden post of your bed frame as you clutch at your side, watching the blood soak into the fabric of your pajama top. For a few moments, all you can feel is heat. You had never been stabbed before, but you had imagined it to play out like the movies. Instead, the piercing pain comes in quickly, and you let out an involuntary shudder as your free hand presses into the wound. All you want to do is drop to the floor with a whimper, the edges of your vision riddled with dancing black dots, and beg Randy to leave you alone. 

Instead, biting your tongue hard enough to draw blood, you ignore the pain rippling through your side as he laughs. He returns to his place near the wall. The two of you are still circling slowly, one foot after the other, unable to take your eyes off of him for a second. 

He could have brought the knife to your other side in a second flat, gutting you. You can almost imagine him standing over your body as you desperately try to hold your organs inside your belly, warm thick blood oozing from the wound in buckets, soaking into the rug Randy had helped you pick out before you collapsed to the ground, coughing up blood. Why hadn’t he? 

“Doesn’t this just get your fuckin’ heart racing?” He asks, the scratchy tone of the modulator making you swallow hard. “Not knowing if your next step is your last, if you’ll even make it out of this fucking room…it’s exciting!” You continue your carefully placed steps, your back now to the door. The dresser was still in front of it, but if you got an extra few seconds, you could squeeze through the gap between the wall and dresser and make your way out into the hall.

If you could do that, you could make it down the steps and to the front door before Randy made it to the landing. Your car keys were right next to the door where you always left them; you could do it. You had to do it. You had to do anything you fucking could to get out of here. The other option was dying.

Randy turns his head to look behind him and you take the brief opportunity to lunge forwards, squeezing your eyes shut as you sink the scissors into his shoulder. You cut through robes, shirt, and flesh. As the blade makes a sickening squelch noise, you expect him to scream, collapse to the ground or stumble back like the villains always do in those shitty movies he likes. 

Your eyes widen and you take a shaky step backwards, scissors stuck in his shoulder as he whips his head around to face you, a low growl emanating from under the mask. His gloved fingers wrap around the metal handles, yanking it out with a hiss. The steel is covered in dark red blood. It drips onto the carpet opposite of the puddle of your own blood that was growing underneath you. The robe where the stab wound was is sunken into the cut, the fabric bunching together and fraying into the wound. 

“You forgetting something, Y/N?” He questions sinisterly, gingerly holding the scissors in his hand. He swings them side to side, taunting you. “Did you seriously think a little stab would stop me? You think none of the others put up a fight like this?” He scoffs, his anger at you clear even through the modulator. “You all think you’re the exception, that you’re the final girl. Well guess fucking what? You’re not… and I think you want me to catch you.”

“I don’t!”

“No?” He taunts, cocking his head to the side. You wonder if, under the mask, his lips are squeezed into a thin line with a furrow to his brows. That was the face Randy always had when he was pissed. You take a step backwards towards the door. “So you’re really trying? You ran up the steps. You let me in your room. You gave me your fucking scissors! Just admit that you want me to fuck you, even if I gut your ass after.” The excitement in his voice has your heart sink.

This wasn’t Randy anymore; this was Ghostface.

Realizing there’s nothing you can do here to save yourself, you make a mad dash for the door. Squeezing yourself between the dresser and wall, you watch as Randy walks over to you, tossing the scissors behind him as his grip tightens around the knife. You’re halfway there, your hands flat against the dresser as you shove it forwards an inch to allow you to squeeze through, when Randy rears his foot back and kicks it.

“FUCK!” You scream as the dresser is violently forced into the door and you, slamming you back into the wall. Your ankle is bent uncomfortably, your leg turned outward and stuck at the bottom of the dresser. Randy lifts his foot once more. “Wait, no, don’t-” you plead, your heart hammering in your chest as you continue to move, nearly out of the room. He ignores you, his foot planting on the edge of the dresser as he kicks it forwards. Your foot is the last thing in the doorframe.

The pain is blinding. Your vision goes white as a fiery warmth crawls up your leg. As your vision returns, so does your hearing; you were letting out a blood curdling scream, your throat raw, and your free leg gives out on you. You collapse backwards, sobbing as Randy grabs the dresser and yanks it back, freeing your foot. 

Looking down, groaning in pain, you try to move your ankle. There’s resistance and an electrical shock shoots up to your knee. Not broken, but there’s clearly something wrong with it. You try and move it again, grunting as you press your foot flat to the ground, attempting to stand. The pain is too much. Fuck. If you can’t move it, you can’t walk on it, let alone run. You look up and see Randy standing in the doorway of your room, your dresser overturned behind him and your door half hung on its hinges. He cocks his head to the side and then takes a step forwards.

You scramble away as best you can, using your hands to push yourself towards the stairs. You can’t catch your breath, your pain and fear mixing together and suffocating you as you try desperately to breathe. Pain erupts from your ankle and your side, the involuntary noises you were making as you crawl away from your best friend making you sound like a wounded animal.

His footsteps are slow, taunting, consistent. Step… step… step. You keep your head up and forwards, eyes glued on the steps, your only possible solace. He allows you to make it to the top of the landing before he’s on you again, grabbing your shoulder and turning you over onto your back. “No! Get off of me, Randy!” You say, punching at his chest and squirming as he straddles you. He huffs from under the mask, grabbing at your wrists and pinning them to your chest with one hand, waving the knife over your face with the other. 

“Ah, ah,” he coos as you fall still, still blubbering. “You’ve really entertained me tonight, Y/N, you know that?” The tip of the knife is pressed to your cheek, digging into your flesh until a small bead of blood bubbles up. You whimper, chin quivering. “You’ve really got the spirit of a final girl. I’m almost sad I have to kill you now.”

He brings the knife up, clutching it in two hands.

“Wait!” You cry out, using your free hands to cover your face. Your brain is scrambled, your heart is pounding, and everything hurts, but there's only one thought in your head. I don’t want to die. “I-I thought you wanted to fuck me?”

If he notices the fear and desperation in your voice, he doesn’t mention it. Randy goes still above you, knees digging into your sides, inadvertently pressing into your wound. “What?” He asks, and the incredulous tone that seeps through the modulator is almost enough to make you laugh. 

“You… you said you’d fuck me.” You repeat, voice cracking. Disgust washes over you in droves, nearly choking away your next words. “I want you to.” Your eyebrows crease together as you swallow down the bile rising in your throat. He says nothing, the knife coming down to his side as he stares at you. You can just barely make out the glint of his eyes through the mesh. 

“Don’t lie to me.” His voice is quieter, less sharp. 

“I’m not.” You reaffirm, staring up at him, trying to keep your face straight. Shakily, you reach your hand up, hesitating as your fingertips brush against the latex of the mask, half expecting him to lash out and plunge the knife into your head. Randy’s breathing is ragged, but he doesn’t move. 

Carefully gripping the material, you move the mask off of him, a far cry from how you had done it just a few minutes before. Randy’s face is sweatier now, redness expanding across his freckled cheeks to the tips of his ears. His eyes dart away from yours and he swallows hard, his adams apple bobbing. He almost looked nervous, which, all things considered, is funny. 

A smile twitches at your lips despite it all. “I’ve always had a crush on you.” You say quietly, feeling your own face grow warm. Your pain has dulled into a throbbing and hot heat. Your ankle feels like sand, too heavy to move. Your side is still burning, ripples of pain traveling up your ribcage as you move your arms. His eyes snap to yours, eyebrows scrunched together in annoyance.

“Yeah, right.”

“I mean it.”

“I don’t believe you.” He says, watching you drop the mask onto the ground beside the two of you. “You just don’t want to die.” 

You sigh slightly. “I don’t want to die.” You say, eyes flicking between his, watching them lighten ever so slightly. “But that doesn’t mean I’m lying about this. If I have to die… might as well get the truth out there, right?” You try and force a laugh, squirming uncomfortably before hissing in pain. 

“You… really? On me?” He questions, wetting his cracked lips when you nod in confirmation. There’s a beat as he studies your face, trying to determine if you were lying, if he was a fucking idiot to believe a word out of your mouth. “I have to kill you.” He says finally, voice quiet. “You’ve seen my face. You’ll tell.”

“I know.” You confirm quietly. You’ve gone completely still by now, the adrenaline and fight rushing from your body in an instant. Tears prick at your eyes again and you turn your head to the side, staring at your broken bedroom door. Briefly, you wonder how expensive it’ll be to fix it. You bite back the unamused laugh that bubbles up in your throat at the realization it doesn’t matter; you won’t be the one paying to fix it after you die. “I just don’t want the last thing I remember about you to be… to be this.”

Randy doesn’t say a word, but you can feel his eyes glued on you. “I wanted it to be different.” He finally says, breaking the thin silence that had settled between you two. When you look back up at him, his eyebrows are threaded together. “Always thought it would be, you know… romantic.” Randy almost looks shy above you, like he was caught shoving a love note into your locker instead of a knife into your throat. “You really want to?”

You nod. It was true, in some strange way. Maybe it’s from the concussion he had surely given you when he smashed your head into the floor downstairs, or maybe it was from the shock slowly overtaking your body from your stab wound and fucked up ankle, or maybe you were, deep down, just as fucked up as Randy. You weren’t sure of the reason, but you were sure of the fact that you wanted him. Swallowing heavily, you nod again, more confident. “I do.”

He hesitates for only a moment, his eyes flashing with the uncertainty you had come to know and love. But you watch him take in your disheveled appearance, his eyes darkening, his throat  bobbing as he swallows. “Take your shirt off.” He orders you quietly, and you listen without thinking. Randy wets his lips again as you awkwardly pull your top off, hissing as the fabric peels away from the wound.  Your side is covered in blood, and you have to turn your head away as blood pulses out, covering the wooden floor underneath you.

You toss it to the side, shivering at the cold wood underneath your exposed skin. His hand comes and cups your breast carefully, gloved thumb running over the thin fabric separating him from your nipple. He hums as he sees it harden, the corner of his thin lips twitching upwards as he repeats the motion again. You sigh, your body relaxing under his touch, your eyes closing as you focus on the feeling and not the circumstances that led you here. 

“I love your tits,” he mumbles, mostly to himself, his grip tightening as he squeezes. “God, the amount of times I’ve jerked off thinking about them, about you…” Randy lets out a small, breathless laugh. You whimper, squirming underneath him and wincing at the ripple of pain. You do your best to ignore it. He tosses the knife to the side, dipping down and kissing you hungrily, pressing his chest to yours.  

He wanted to kiss you hard enough to fuse together, to become a blob of unrecognizable mass writhing in pleasure. You kiss back this time and he groans, his tongue pushing its way past your lips, sliding over yours. “Randy,” you say breathlessly, shuddering when he pulls your bra up past your tits, freeing them before you feel the cool leather envelop your flesh. His right hand is slick with blood, a mix of yours and his, smearing it across your flesh. You squirm under him again, pushing upwards against his crotch, pulling a grunt from him.

“You really want it bad, don’t you?” He questions hurriedly against the flesh of your neck as he nips at your pulse. “I bet I don’t even have to touch you and you’d find a way to cum, wouldn’t you? Yeah, I fuckin’ bet. But it wouldn’t be enough, would it?” His words send a shiver down your spine, your head swimming as his nose brushes along your neck up to your ear, his breath warm. “I can hear you when you fuck yourself at night, y’know? When you think I’m asleep, and you let yourself get a little louder, a bit more brave.”

“R-Really?”

“Mhm. Hearing your little whimpers, the sound of you cumming…” He lets out a low groan, pulling back as he works on shifting his weight, tugging your pajama pants and underwear down to your knees. “Let me see her,” he mutters, mostly to himself, as he pushes your knees apart. He ignores your hiss of pain as his pupils enlarge, eyes trained on your now spread cunt. You can feel your face grow warm. “Holy shit. Look at you.”

Randy reaches a gloved hand out, carefully dragging a finger up your slit. You swallow back a whimper at the feeling, your eyes widening when he holds the finger up to show you your wetness. You shouldn’t be wet right now. Waves of disgust recede briefly only to crash back over you, time and time again, drowning you. “Look at this… fuck, I didn’t know you’d get off on this too.”

His smile is large, stretched across his skin to the point it looks like it hurts. He dips his head down, hands on your thighs, nose hovering above your pussy, and he breathes in deep. He moans - whimpers - and wastes no time, his pink lips wrapping around your clit and sucking. 

“R-Randy!” You moan, your thighs attempting to close around his head. His fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs, holding you open for him. “Oh shit,” you groan, your eyes squeezing shut as you do your best to focus on the quick-building pleasure in your gut rather than the ever-persistent pain in your side as your body involuntarily moves against his tongue. 

Randy moans against you, letting go of your clit in favor of flicking his tongue back and forth along your slit, tasting as much of you as he can. “So fuckin’ good baby,” he mutters, his nose bumping along your clit as he pushes his tongue in your hole. It makes you gasp sharply and he hums, eyes opening to look up at you through heavy lids. He wasn’t lying when he told you he thought about this moment a lot, late at night in bed, hand wrapped around his cock. “Tell me you like it.”

His voice is muffled by your cunt and you don’t register it, your mind reeling with your situation as your orgasm steadily began to build. It hung heavy in your gut, growing thicker and bigger with each passing second, with each flick of his tongue and bump of his nose. Your pussy hurt, throbbing with need, desperate for release. And then, finally, you’re right there, toes beginning to curl, dots of color dancing in the dark of your closed eyes, when he stops. “What the fuck?”

He snorts at your meak and confused protest. You force your eyes to open, chest heaving, and involuntarily you glance down at the puddle of blood under you. It’s only grown, and the realization nearly takes the wind out of you. You felt tired, cold, exhausted.

“I told you to tell me you like it.”

“I-I didn’t hear you.”

“I know. Too caught up in how good I was making your pussy feel, right?’ He asks, voice soothing. “Couldn’t even be bothered to pretend to hate it.” You look up at him and he smiles, the corner of his lips curling upward. “Dirty fuckin’ bitch, huh? Is that what you are, Y/N?”

You shake your head and he laughs. “I’m not.” You say, trying to have any ounce of conviction in your tone, but it only serves to amuse him further. His stupid shit-eating grin makes a flash of anger course through you. “I’m not.” You say again, nostrils flaring. Your fight dies down as his smile drops and his eyebrows stitch together in annoyance. 

“No?” He asks, cocking his head to the side. Without breaking eye contact, his left hand moves from your thigh to your pussy, pressing against your clit to an almost painful degree. The pressure makes you jolt, a groan being pulled from your lips. “You’re not getting off on how much I’ve hurt you?” Randy questions casually, taking his fingers and moving them down to your pulsing hole. 

Whimpering as you feel him prod at your opening, you simply squeeze your eyes shut in response. You wouldn’t give him the fucking satisfaction. He’s not deterred by your stubbornness; he’s been friends with you long enough to know that it was all a facade, a way to keep control when you had none. It was one of his favorite things about you. 

“You might not like it,” he says, humming as he begins to press the leather-clad finger into your cunt. You hiss at the slight stretch, face screwing up at the strange sensation of the leather sliding along your walls. There’s only a brief second of resistance before your body lets him continue. “But she sure does.” He purrs, breath hot against your bare thigh as he begins to pump his finger inside you. “Let me right in, didn’t she? Imagine how she’s gonna react when I finally give you my cock.”

You whimper; it’s involuntary, an accident, maybe not even from pleasure, but it doesn’t matter. The noise is encouragement, a golden stamp of approval, for Randy. His finger picks up speed as you cream around the digit, the sound of your wetness increasing with each pump. Another finger is pushed in and you whimper. “O-ow!” You whine at the stretch. 

“Shut up,” he hisses, his blue eyes narrowing. “You think my cocks not gonna hurt when I fuckin’ shove it in here?” He follows his question with a third finger, the added stretch of the leather sending a shiver up your spine. You suck in a breath, shuddering with each pump, your own arousal loud enough for you to hear it. “You should see your fuckin’ pussy right now, baby, I mean… fuuuck. Creaming around my fucking fingers. Your clit’s throbbing; bet that hurts, doesn’t it? It’s all achey, desperate for me to touch it?”

You don’t want to answer his mocking words. A part of you is screaming at you to do something and get the fuck out of there, to get his hands out and off of you, to hold onto some of your dignity before your death. It’s not loud enough. “Y-yes!” You grunt, your eyebrows threaded together. “It hurts, Ray, fuck, j-just, please!” Your voice is whiny, cracking in the middle of your begging, your hips trying to push forwards in a desperate attempt for friction. “I’ll cum, I swear to god I will!”

He hums, his fingers curling inside you. The pleasure, while good, spreading throughout your whole body, isn’t enough. “You’re tellin’ me if I touch your clit you’ll cum?” Randy asks, amusement clear in his voice. You nod desperately, meeting his eyes. His cheeks are tinged pink with exertion, a hungry look in his eyes. He leans forwards, eyes flicking down to your clit, and you expect him to flick his tongue against the throbbing bud or suck it into his mouth. 

Instead, he lets out a small breath, the cool air focused on your clit, and you cum. 

“There you go, baby,” he says, watching you with a lopsided grin as your body shakes, legs attempting to close around his shoulders, pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers. A low groan slips past your parted lips, ending in a pained whimper as the pleasure ebbs away, making way for the ache in your side. “God, I knew you were gonna look beautiful cumming.” 

His voice is soft, sweet. In another world, he would have said that to you in your bed, the two of you surrounded by plush pillows and warm blankets instead of blood. You blink a few times, staring up at the popcorn ceiling, a warm tear slipping down your face to your ear. You sniffle as you feel him move from between your legs, pulling his fingers out slowly. He presses them to your lips and you don’t need him to tell you what to do. 

Your mouth parts, your eyes closing as he presses his fingers past your lips. “Fuck.” He breathes as your face screws up slightly at the metallic taste that accompanied your own arousal, remembering how your blood had covered the leather before he began touching you. “Almost done sweetheart, I promise.” He murmurs, sliding his digits over your tongue, pressing down a bit before pulling them out. 

You watch as he bunches the fabric of the robe into his hand, pulling it up enough to reveal his jeans, his cock pressing against the fabric. His free hands fumbles with the button for a moment before he huffs, his face growing a darker shade of red in embarrassment as he drops the robe, using both hands to unbutton and shove his jeans down. 

“God, maybe I’ll make you take my cock in your ass.” He says, groaning as he wraps his blood-and-cum-covered hand around his cock. He strokes himself once before pausing and spitting into his gloved palm, looking down at you, a sadistic glint in his eyes as he watches a ripple of fear go through you. “Never had one there, have you?” He shakes his head, answering his own question. “Nah, too respectable, aren’t you? You’re not a slut when you bring home another fucking douchebag. You just let ‘em fuck your mouth a bit and then your pussy, right?”

“Randy-”

“No.” He snaps, his face screwing up into a snarl. “Just shut the fuck up, alright? For years I’ve been sitting by, watching asshole after asshole get to touch you, get to flirt and kiss and fuck you. And I sat back like a good friend, like a fucking gentlemen, cleaning up their fucking mess with no reward.” He moans, his hips bucking forwards into his hand. A bead of sweat rolls down his nose, dripping onto the robe. “Fuck that. I might as well have my fun.”

Leaning forwards, he smashes his mouth against yours. He ignores your whimper of pain, the tears that had steadily built up and fallen during his rant. His tongue forces its way past your lips and Randy moans at the feeling of you kissing back. At this point, it didn’t matter to him if you really were enjoying it; what mattered was that he was able to be with you in the way he’s been dreaming of since you had met. 

With one of his hands, he lines his cock up to your entrance, swiping the leaking and swollen tip through your folds as he pulls away from your mouth to straighten up. The both of you let out a noise of pleasure, and he grins, pleased at your lack of fight. It was fun during the chase, but now he was fulfilling a fantasy. “Ready?” He asks, pressing his hips forwards a bit, prodding at your opening. You feel so fucking warm against him that he shudders, squeezing his eyes shut for a moment to stop from cumming then and there.

You’re not. You are, actually, but you don’t want to admit it. Sniffling, you shake your head quickly. “N-not yet,” you say, watching his expression soften as he meets your eyes. He bends down again, his pink lips pressing soft kisses along your jaw. His other hand runs along your side, goosebumps raising on the exposed skin in his wake. 

Your eyes close and you imagine yourself in bed with him, comfortable and safe. The warmth underneath you is no longer your own blood, but the heated blanket you had for the winter. The metallic smell a candle, the robe tickling your bare stomach a blanket. “Okay.”

“Yeah?” He murmurs against your cheek, tilting his head back to look at your face. There's a dazed look in your eyes, but when you nod again in confirmation, he grins. “Good girl,” Randy says as he begins to push inside you. “It’ll feel good, I promise.” He dips his head down to kiss you as he pushes past your body's natural resistance, moaning hot into your mouth just as you did. “H-holy fuck!” Randy shudders, his voice cracking as he bottoms out. “S-so fucking tight, and warm, fuck!”

His cock is thicker than any of the guys’ you’ve been with before, stretching and filling you up with every inch he pushes in. Your arms wrap around his shoulders, your head burying into his shoulder. Your side throbs with pain, but you’re able to ignore it and the blood still spilling from the wound, your head growing cloudy. Part of it you can blame on blood loss, on survival, on instinct. The rest of it is purely you. “Fuck, Randy! O-oh my god!” You gasp as he pulls out, the tip of his cock the only thing left in your cunt until he shoves every inch back inside.

Your fingers scramble to grab at his shoulders as he pistons his cock in and out of you when you accidentally dig your finger into his stab wound. “Fuck!” He yells, his movements stalling, and you remove your hand instantly, your heart nearly stopping in fear. Your apologies come quick, nearly incoherent, but he shuts you up with a grin. “Fuck, do that again.” He says, his hips moving again. 

“W-what?”

“Do it again.” Randy repeats, a glimmer in his eye as he grabs your hand, his fingers awkwardly pressing yours into his wound. You grimace at the feeling of your fingertip pressing into the warm and bloody hole. He grunts in pain, his face screwing up into a grimace, but he doesn’t let you pull away and his hips dont stop fucking into you. “F-fuck. Oh god, your pussy is so fucking good.” He moans, pressing your finger in deeper, to the first knuckle. “Jesus Christ, you’re so fuckin’ tight. You like this don’t you?” 

Randy grunts, keeping his eyes trained on you, before he pushes your finger into the wound further. The hole is warm and you can feel the flesh throb around your finger. His cock is throbbing inside you, and you’re not sure how much is from your cunt and how much so from this. He yelps in pain again, finally letting your hand go.

It drops back to your chest as his thrusts speed up, his free hand coming down to rub at your clit. “Oh, shit!” You moan, your eyes rolling into the back of your head. “Randy, oh my god, I-I’m so fucking close!” Your whimpers only spur him on, his thrusts bordering on painful as his hips snap against your own. Your ankle is still throbbing but you can move it with only a brief moment of sharp pain. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, Y/N,” Randy whines, his voice cracking in pleasure. “Been dreaming, shit! Been dreaming of fucking you, god damn, and it’s so much better than I could have imagined.” His head tilts back slightly, eyes closing as his hips begin to sputter. “Come on, cum on my fucking cock, alright? Be a good girl for me, don’t hold back, alright? I want it, fuuuuuck, please? Please let me feel you cum on my dick, Y/N. Don’t you wanna cum one last time, baby?”

His words cut through you in an instant. A choked whimper is all you can manage as you cum, tightening around him and making him shudder. His thrusts are so fucking sloppy now, his mouth hung open and panting, drool building at the corner of his mouth. He hurriedly thanks you, telling you how good your fucking pussy feels, how he’s going to cum inside you and make sure you feel how much he loves it. You can’t focus on anything other than the words ringing in your ears. 

“Don’t you wanna cum one last time, baby?”

He was going to kill you. You knew that; he told you as much. A naive part of you thought that maybe, somehow, he’d fuck you and then decide to let you go. 

“Oh my god, I’m gonna cum.” Randy says, his cock throbbing with each thrust. His face is screwed up in concentration, hands digging into the flesh of your thighs. “I’m gonna fucking cum inside you, Y/N!”

You bring your hand up and dig your thumb into his shoulder as far as it can go. 

Randy screams in pain, falling backwards in an attempt to get away from you. You follow him, hovering above him on your knees as he thrashes under you, ignoring your own pain. “FUCK!” He screams, finally shoving you backwards away from him. He sobs, his hand clutching his shoulder, heat traveling up and down his arm. “You stupid fucking bitch! What the fuck is wrong with you?!” 

You don’t waste any time. You’re not even thinking anymore, your body taking over to save itself. You shove your pants and underwear back up, tugging your bra back down over your tits as you stumble to the steps. The sharp pain in your ankle is back tenfold, nearly blinding you, but the sound of Randy struggling to his feet keeps you going. 

Clutching the handrail, you drag your body down to the steps. You’re sweating, cold and hot all at once, the wound on your side steadily dripping blood down your thigh. “Get the fuck back here!” He’s at the top of the steps as you reach the bottom, hauling ass to the front door. 

Everything hurts. You aren’t sure if you’re even breathing as you struggle down the hallway, grabbing onto the wall to drag your body to safety. Every step you take knocks the fucking wind out of you, spots in your vision, but the adrenaline is keeping you going. You had a chance and your body knew it. 

Randy is thundering down the steps, his cock straining against his unbuttoned jeans. Not only had you hurt him, you had denied him the one thing he wanted from you. “You fucking bitch,” he screams, spit flying from his lips. He reaches the bottom of the steps and turns, watching as you reach the front door, grabbing your keys from the dish. You look backwards and spot him, knife in hand, his teeth gnashing in annoyance. “I’ll fucking gut you for this.” He shouts as you unlock the door and stumble outside and off the porch, straight into the arms of campus police.

“Jesus!” The uniformed man grunts, catching you in his arms. “Are you alright, miss? We got calls about some screams.” He peers down at you, moving his hand and seeing it covered in your blood. He curses, grabbing his walkie talkie and calling for backup. You’re sobbing still, heart thumping and beating at your ribs, shivering against him. It was cold, and the heat from your wound only seemed to spread when Randy was on top of you. “Miss,” he says, repeating it a few times until you finally lift your head to look at him. “A few more officers are coming out to help, but I need to know what happened, okay? Who did this to you?”

You turn to look back at your house, staring through the opened living room door. Nothing. Randy was gone. You can see the open back door further down the lit hall, the breeze making the drawn shade move gently. He was gone, but he’d be back. You turn to look back at the cop, your breathing uneven, and you blink.

“Ghostface.”

[brella-boi]

Okay guys this is becoming a tradition of me seeing films recently so heres a

Sonic 3 review from a technical standpoint

Look im no film critic or anything, but i AM an animator and theres a lot of. Things. I see whether I want to or not. Its just how my brain is wired because of my profession lol

(This is full of spoilers btw so now's your time to fast scroll away)

Anyway lets begin!

The movie is great. Cool even. I liked it! But theres a lot of direction decision that I am just. Baffled by I guess?

First of all- the models are different. (Httyd ass moment) And the way they sculpted the characters lips absolutely destroys anything theyre trying to emote. It looks like theyre CONSTANTLY pursing their lips. Like they ate a lemon. Do you understand? Sonic also has much more pronounced brows which makes him look more pissed off constantly LOL

[Sonic 1 model vs sonic 3 models, pay attention to the lips]

Eggman and Dr Stone had possibly the best interactions in the entire movie. Their dynamic was fantastic, and I would argue they kinda carried the movie. Unfortunately! The ending left their issues unresolved. And Dr Stone looked entirely unbothered by the possible death of Eggman.

This brings me to some writing choices that I feel may be due to... Either infantalising or time cuts. The storyboarding of this film was just. God how do I even describe this. It feels like a lot of crucial scenes where cherry picked to be deleted between shots. Thats not good at all- and while character continuity WAS there, it really did feel like something crucial was missing in some scenes. This is especially evident in the Chao Garden scenes. Specifically when the general dies (WHY DOES HE DIE LIKE THAT. WE DIDNT EVEN SEE THE RUBBLE GO ANYWHERE OR PIN ANYONE DOWN OR SEE MASS PANIC FOR PEOPLE TO DIE?) The characters COMPLETELY gloss over his death- a death that feels like its out of a show for 8 year olds Im not going to lie to you. He just flops, delivers a line, and thats it.

It feels like the two halves of the movie were written by two different writers.

The first half is weak. The jokes are stale. And the storybeats almost feel off. The actions scenes- while there's nothing particularly offendish about them- don't *hit*. If you're an animator or writer you understand that important beats need to pack a punch. It was severely lacking in packing punches in the first half.

I also wanna speak to the animators. Are you okay? Was this made on tight deadlines? Where is the fun and whimsy? Did you outsource this? Did you give your workers a good environment or were they crunching and hating life? Or did you hire younger animators with no senior feedback because they're cheaper to hire?

Look, the animation is good. Just that. Its good. Its TV show standard, not movie standard. Its lacking a good push to the poses, its using slow keyframing between poses instead of it being snappy, with good silhouettes, with good visual gags. Instead were left with this.. subpar passable animation for every character instead of something energetic and snappy like Sonics personality. I think this is where I take the most issue with because guys come on. You didnt push the models to their limits at ALL. And Sonics speedy running is... Well read my previous points. Where are the fundamentals of animation about exaggeration? Not in Sonics run cycle.

The second half of the movie carried the first half on its back thanks to Eggman. I am SO GLAD to see giant spaceships and mechs and whatnot. Thats great! Loved to see the lovely mech models and once again- interactions between Eggman and Dr Stone. Id go as far as say they should be gay tbh (hello? The scene where theyre tied up?)

I didn't bring up Shadow entirely so far. And honestly Ive no notes about him. All my notes are entirely about just the animation and not hitting the beats well. His characterisation was great- it actually explains his aggression pretty well and then redemption. Genuinely the last arc of the movie was fantastic. And finally we got to hear a rock score to go with it. Maria was fun, the flashbacks were fun, the scientific exploration was fun. All in the second half of the movie of course!

My overall score is 6/10.

To untrained eyes the movie is going to be extremely fun- if a little more childish in some parts than others. I'm glad they took some risky moments, I'm glad the characterisation is well written. I just wish other aspects were tightened down, mainly animation and storyboarding.

6/10 but I never thought Id leave the cinema with the thoughts "I could storyboard some of these scenes in a lot more meaningful way, and Im not even a storyboarder."

I recommend a watch! Its not a bad movie. Its not a rock-it-out-of-the-park movie either though. I feel like maybe all the anticipation and high expectations maybe made it not as gut punching for me as it couldve been. Overall, all I can gleam from it is theres a lot of things to improve on! But nothing that really destroys it or makes it bad. Just a lot of room for improvement.

Thanks for reading!

[semicolonsspace]

Galvanic- a Stiles Smut<3

Warnings: knee humping, handjob, premature Orgasm, multiple orgasms, Dacryphilia, tit worship(kinda) fingering(f receiving), unprotected sex (p n v), creampie,

Y/n and Stiles have been best friends since Kindergarten. They were so close everyone just assumed they were dating. Neither Stiles nor Y/n were bothered by it. Actually, it was quite refreshing for Y/n. She was always paranoid of other boys, it took her forever to be able to trust Scott.

Every Tuesday the pair would hang out. They'd either watch movies, research together, or go to abandoned buildings. Today they were going to watch a Star Wars movie once again.

But, every time they did so, Y/n had to masturbate. She had to because Stiles somehow riled her up innocently. Whether it would be by a simple hug, a lingering touch, or just the way he looked at her with his big brown eyes.

Y/n sighed and got up from her bed; She just finished for the 3rd time and she reeked of sex. Y/n stumbles off her bed and wobbles to her joint bathroom. She quickly takes a shower and wraps the towel around her curves. She checks if it shows anything before leaving. She walks out of her bathroom and almost screams. Stiles was standing next to her bed, shamelessly holding the dildo, examining it with an analytical face. Y/n snatches it out of her friend's hands swiftly. Her hand still clutched her towel with her other hand and grumbled. "You saw nothing." She quickly walks to her joint bathroom and sets the dildo in the sink, she cleans it and lets it sit there to dry.

"So," Stiles begins with a shaky voice. "I'm early-" He starts but is cut off by his slightly annoyed and extremely embarrassed best friend.

"You are... By a whole hour," Y/n sighed, She couldn't be mad at him with the way he looked at her. But she was never going to forget this... How could she be so stupid? Leaving it on her bed like that?

Stiles smirks at her and sits on her bed. He pulls her closer to him, his hands toying with the hem of the towel. "Maybe I can make you feel good? Instead of watching a stupid movie," Stiles suggests playfully. That's right! Stiles wanted to watch Star Wars but disregarded it just like that?

Stiles and she had always been flirty toward each other but this time it felt different. Just the mention of him doing so made arousal slip down her thighs.

Y/n shakes her head. "Now is not the time with your teasing, you're early! I haven't even got dressed yet!"

Y/n squints at him and shoves him off of her. She turns to her closet to pick out some clothes. Stiles pushes himself off her bed and grabs a shirt from the closet along with his sweatpants that he left over the previous sleepover they'd had. "Get all comfy and cute for me," Stiles jokes with his infamous thin smirk. Y/n rolls her eyes and grabs the clothes, grabs undergarments before he can see them, and walks to her bathroom to change.

Stiles scoffs, his slender hands falling to her hips. He squeezes them in an attempt to reassure her. "No need for that, I've seen you naked before," Stiles shrugs nonchalantly. He had only because they used to take bubble baths together when they were young. Then she hit puberty early, destroying the fun they had in the water. That didn't deter them, they just had fun splashing each other in her pool.

When she was finished she walked out and climbed onto her bed. Stiles was already on her bed, so she snuggled into him like she'd always done. He sighs with content and wraps his arms around her happily. A few moments go by and his arms tighten so tight she knew she wasn't going to be able to escape. "We're gonna have to talk about that toy, Y/n/n." His voice was husky, something she'd only heard in her fantasies.

Y/n struggles one last time before giving in and going lax. "Never," she mumbles. Her pride wouldn't let her go that easy. His strong arms were tight around her torso, his forearms pressed against her hard nipples; He could feel the tempting buttons, begging for his attention. "What are you doing, Stiles?" she asks in a shaky voice. His breath was heavy in her ear, tempting her with all the fantasies she'd had about him.

"Thinking about that toy," he whispers with cracks.

Y/n's breath was now heavy, the second thing she could hear. His breathing, hers, and her racing heartbeat in her ears. Now she could feel his body, feel his arousal pressed against her back, slowly hardening against the small of her back. She squirmed again, trying to fearfully getaway. There is no way this was happening, Y/n thought.

"Your dick is pressed against my back," Y/n groans, squirming again to get away.

"Your squirming is making it that way; Be still, I want to cuddle," he bites back, stifling a moan as her ass just grazed his shaft deliciously.

He moves his knee, not away but further between her legs. "Is this okay?" Stiles asks with faux innocence. Y/n moans when he asks this, bringing her plump lips into her teeth. Her eyes roll back and her toes curl, not expecting such beautiful pleasure just from his knee. Her brain seems to short-circuit when his knees start to rub against her clit. "What about this?" he whispers. Y/n nods, her hips grinding against his knees to assist. "Just- don't stop," she cries, literal tears falling from her eyes. He leans down and kisses the salty glint on her euphoria-filled face.

Y/n doesn't listen and tries to get out of his grasp. He gets fed up and pins her down with ease. He hovers over her, his eyes are hooded, his hair is messy, and his breath is heavy. She could tell he was aroused, not just from feeling his length on her thigh either... His knee pressed against her mound, causing her to arch her back delectably. Her tits were now in his face, she felt his breath tickle her areolas. It was so imperiling to just give in and suck on them.

"Stiles, please. Move your knees. Too sensitive," Y/n breathes.

A wave of pleasure washes over her. Better than anything she's felt with her toys. Stiles couldn't hold back anymore, not after seeing her cry his name in such a Melodic way. He kisses her, groaning when she kisses back almost as soon as their lips connect. "So pretty," he coos as he moves on hand off her wrist to move her hair out of her face. "'You going to be a good girl for me and help out?"

Y/n nods quickly, her eyes big with the yearning. "I'll help," she says as her hand rubs his covered shaft with the palm of her delicate hand. Stiles doubles over, his head falling to her neck. His trembling body caught itself, slowly positioning between her legs while his open-pouted lips petted her neck. Y/n then slips her hand into his sweats, under his tight boxers, and rubs the precum into his tip. He moans pleasantly as she uses the thin amount of liquid as lubrication to jerk his veiny member properly.

They couldn't bring themselves to say anything. They were too scared and too caught up in the intimacy. Their stomachs were filled with butterflies, twisting and turning with the utmost yen for each other. Their eyes were locked, the bodies feeling the rest for them.

"Oh my gosh, Y/n... Your hand- I'm-" Stiles whines as he finishes on her hand. He cums hard, his teeth baring into her soft shoulder. She continues, easing him down from his high. He shakes and moves her hand off before the overstimulation can hit. She licks her hand clean, looking into his eyes while doing so. This sends him over the edge again as he prematurely starts squirting his sperm on her shirt that she stole and cropped. Y/n giggles at him not fully knowing how he came from just a look. "You're gonna kill me," Stiles whimpers breathily.

"Now now... You aren't dying and getting away from me now," Y/n purrs with synthetic confidence. His eyes practically bulge and he expels a guttural growl.

In an instant, he rips off the shirt that he wore. He grumbled out "You can steal more 'em," before Y/n could complain. He leaves kisses on her perky chest. His mouth latches onto a breast and Y/n's hands go to fist the back of his shirt. She didn't know her nipples were that sensitive.

Her hand entangles with his hair, her head falling back as her eyes flutter. She moves her legs over her thigh, now her ass was pressed against him as he was still on his hands and knees floating above her beauty. Her breast falls out of his mouth as her ass massages his dick as she rocks into him. "I need you, Stiles. Wanna feel you," Y/n pleads. How could he deny her what she asked for when she begged like that? With one hand, his shirt was thrown across her room, then he caressed her face as he pulled her into a long passionate kiss. His hands feel her body, attempting to engrave every detail it touched before and replace it with this memory. He pulls her sweats off, then his, never breaking the dance between their lips.

His hand finds her damp underwear, successfully finding her bundle of nerves. He toys with it, making her struggle to continue to kiss. He notices this and chuckles at her. "Make you all weak, have I? Just wait until later, little girl," he taunts before kissing her lips once more. His hands fumble, sliding down the underwear off. He collects her arousal, at once his finger penetrates her welcoming hole.

She moans into the kiss, tapping his back to get him off her face. She gasped for air, crying as her previous orgasms that day caught up to her. She was so unbelievably sensitive, but she didn't want him to stop touching her this way.

"Please..." she mewls before he enters another finger.

"My pussy is so inviting, baby," he whispers feebly. "So compliant..." he spreads his fingers in a scissor motion, slowly fucking them into her. "I'm gonna need more of this, baby... You'll let me, won't you, dear?"

"Yes- Yes, I- I will. Just don't," she pauses as she feels the delightful feeling about to explode once more. "Don't stop, please. Don't-" He cits her off by adding another finger that easily slides into her dripping cunt. "Oh-"

Stiles emits a dark chuckle she's only heard when he was possessed by a certain spirit. The wretched thought of him becoming so dark pushes her over the edge again, clutching his naked torso as an anchor to reality.

"Do you think you can take me?" Stiles asks slowly rubbing his length. She moans out a response that makes him smirk. His tip teases her folds, agonizingly slow as his dick inches into her. The stretch was unlike her dildo, which was skinnier and longer. Stiles was thick and probably about seven inches.

She babbles once he enters her. Her hands searched for something to grasp onto. He collects her hands and interlocks them. Her hands gracefully accept them and grasps them tight as he fully sheaths into her.

He carefully starts rocking into her, giving her kisses on the neck as she is too cockdrunk to respond to a kiss on the lips. His hips were colliding into hers with love. This wasn't him fucking her, it was slow. Sensual. He was making love to her, and her body was so weak from him doing so, not just because she came four times today. The way he moved into her was messy as well, the sounds of her cunt with her release and as well as his, was just galvanic.

She convulsed around him, feeling like she was going to climax once more. He continues, as well as he continues leaving love marks on her neck and her chest.

"Mmph- Stiles, I-" she tries to tell him. But he hushes her with a brisk kiss on the lips. "I know babydoll," he roused. "I can feel it," he hums approvingly. He was close to the edge as well, teetering over it. He was trying his hardest not to release, wanting to see her face when she cums on his cock. He knew he would become addicted to it, of seeing her face in ecstasy and feeling her finish around him. Hell, he already was addicted to her...

She falls off the edge, causing him to jump off the edge as well from how tight she gripped him. They slow down, the breaths still ragged as they feel each other in bliss.

After they recover Stiles groans as he is already semi-hard again just from her occasional twitches. He pulls out, the creamy liquid gushing out of her. He hums as he stuffs his dick back into her, not wanting any of the love elixir liquid to leave her womb. Y/n cries and slaps his back as he does this and he only laughs. "Gotta make it stay baby, don't want any of it to go to waste." Then he gets a filthy idea and quickly pulls out once more and slurps it up, drinking all of the elixir they had just made.

(a/n yeah😃 wtf did I just write? This. Took. 6. Hours. But- it was worth it, I love it. I hope YOU love it as well as I do! I love you, babes❤️)

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Steve being a hidden nerd in certain ways (ei: sports, camping, outdoor stuff like camping & vegetation/botony, bugs, animals & shit) the kids losing their collective mind as Steve tells them about it. Maybe on a camping trip or something???? I especially want Hop to be impressed.

This is maybe my first request that didn't have some kind of romantic relationship Steddie. They do have a little flirty moment, but beyond that, I liked the idea of just everyone loving Steve and being so intrigued by his knowledge of all of this random nature stuff. Also, no research was done here. Like, zero. I don't know what is true and what isn't so assume none of it is. This is fiction based on fiction and we're here for a good time. I've never been to Yosemite, but it is on the list for me and Liam to go! - Mickala ❤️

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

No one expected Steve to actually want to go camping. Sure, he wanted an RV, wanted to go to National Parks and see mountains and lakes and rivers, but they assumed he’d just want to stay in the RV.

They hadn’t expected him to bring tents.

They hadn’t expected him to suggest sleeping in the tents.

“But…we have an RV,” Mike said, suddenly no longer interested in their trip to Yosemite.

“To travel in. But we won’t all comfortably sleep in it. It’s made for five people at most.”

And that was that. The only people sleeping in the RV were Hopper and Joyce and Max and El, and everyone else was sleeping in tents.

The entire drive there was filled with arguments over music, arguing over who got to sit where, and Steve’s “fun facts” about the land they would be staying on.

He had apparently done quite a bit of research, or he had been hiding a whole wealth of knowledge from everyone.

His fun facts were actually interesting, and everyone quickly tuned in when he started telling them about how the mountains could be dated because of the type and color of the rocks, and how much of the sequoias had been destroyed over the last couple of decades and what they were doing to preserve what was left.

When they arrived, everyone stared in wonder at the meadow in front of them, the mountains as the backdrop to a beautiful sunset.

It would still be light for close to two hours, so they didn’t rush to set up the tents. They went on a short walk along the road they took to the campsite, Steve pointing out different types of plants and birds as they went.

Everyone was in awe of his information, but no one was as surprised as Hopper.

“Where did you learn all this?” he asked on the way back to the campsite as the kids raced each other ahead.

“I went to camp once when I was seven and then I was obsessed with nature. My parents wouldn’t let me go back to camp, but they let me get books and movies about plants and animals. In high school, I took geology and almost had a perfect grade. I just like this stuff,” Steve shrugged.

“So you only went to camp once? Is this your way of going to camp?” Hopper asked casually.

He didn’t usually ask questions that didn’t tell him something he absolutely needed to know.

“I guess. And to spend time with everyone. I like when we can all be together without hell surrounding us, ya know?” Steve admitted.

Hopper’s hand rested on his shoulder and squeezed in silent agreement.

Putting the tents up had been relatively easy, especially when Steve managed to show them a trick he taught himself when he was young and wanted to set up a tent in his backyard but never had anyone there to help him.

No one commented on how sad it was, but Steve realized it after he said it.

As everyone got their sleeping bags and lamps set up in their tents, Steve found a large rock along the edge of the creek in the meadow and sat on it, watching as the sun finally sank behind the mountains.

“Hey,” a voice startled Steve.

He relaxed when he turned to see that it was Eddie.

“Hey.”

“Mind if I sit with you for a minute? Kids are being a bit too much right now.”

“Go ahead,” Steve gestured to the spot next to him. “Not exactly a comfy seat, but the view can’t be beat.”

“Oh, so you’re rhyming now?” Eddie teased as he nudged Steve’s shoulder.

“Not on purpose,” Steve laughed. “It’s pretty great out here, though.”

“Yeah it is. You did good, Stevie.”

Steve looked over to see Eddie already smiling fondly at him.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. And, for what it’s worth, I think it’s pretty fucking cool that you love nature so much. Nature isn’t really a good friend of mine, but it’s pretty nice to hear about it from you.”

“I’ll make an explorer out of you yet, Eds.”

Eddie looked at him with a look he hadn’t seen on anyone before, at least not towards him.

“Maybe you will, Stevie.”

Eddie only sat there for another minute before excusing himself to check that none of the kids touched his brand new acoustic guitar.

Steve sat there until it was completely dark around him, watching the land in front of him shift ever so slightly as the breeze picked up and the cicadas started their nightly song.

Robin sat down next to him, rested her head against his shoulder and sat with him in silence for a few minutes.

“It’s good to be out here. I don’t think Max ever expected to see mountains like this. She keeps asking when she can climb them,” Robin whispered.

“She does remember her legs aren’t at 100% yet still, right?” Steve asked.

“I think she’s willing to give it a go anyway. What’s the point of being here and surviving everything if you can’t even try?”

Steve nodded.

“Wanna come tell us more about the trail we’re taking tomorrow?”

“You guys wanna hear about it now?”

“Yeah. We like that you’re passionate about it.”

Steve felt his cheeks heat up at the words.

“Okay then. If you guys don’t mind. There’s supposed to be a specific type of rabbit who burrows along this specific trail during the summer and they can grow to be nearly two feet long.”

“That sounds terrifying. Come tell everyone about it,” Robin said as she got up and offered him a hand.

He took it and made his way back to the group.

Everyone listened to him talk about their plan for tomorrow, not interrupting when he got sidetracking talking about the type of trees they would see and what kind of flowers tended to bloom during this particular time of year.

When Steve and Eddie slipped into their tent an hour or so later, they could have stayed in their respective sleeping bags.

But Steve was still too eager to talk about things, so Eddie sidled up next to him in his sleeping bag and held his hand while he talked for another hour about the waterfall they’d be seeing and the type of fish that would most likely be in the river.

[yenonnoff]

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! 28. what comes after heartbreak?

note: word count is 3.2k (^O^)

atsumu was face-to-face with the person he used to call his “love.” what would usually be the feeling of butterflies or warm rush of affection through his body was replaced with pure contempt. now, he only saw a witch—a girl that had insidiously beguiled him into falling in love. 

atsumu was already inside the record store when he saw emma. long hair, rosy cheeks, full lips—the epitome of pretty privilege. from afar, she looked as approachable and friendly as a lily; however, get close and she might bite you like a venus flytrap. 

atsumu understood why he was so charmed by her all those years ago. nevertheless, that was then and this was now. a switch was flipped the moment the two broke up, and all the sweet affection was drained from him. 

one moment, atsumu was inside the record store; the next, he was sitting across emma in a nearby cafe. this was against everything atsumu stood for. however, he needed answers and he didn’t want to rush headlong into a sudden confrontation. he didn’t want to destroy his one sanctuary just because of emma.

“why are you here? how did you know i was here?” atsumu demanded firmly. a vexed wrinkle formed between his eyebrows, matching the guarded way he sat with his arms crossed over his chest. his body was completely tense. atsumu miya’s defenses were all up and his system was working overtime on full alert. 

“oh, please. it’s a public place for crying out loud,” she retorted. 

atsumu stared at her in disbelief, his frustration completely inflamed. “first, it was that photo you posted. now, you appear in front of me in the record store. how much more selfish can you get?” 

“what? selfish?! this was the only time i’ve been back to that scruffy place filled with junk. besides, i just asked around for your schedule. today’s your break and i know you always go there to clear your mind.” she drew in an exaggerated breath, her index finger twirling a strand of hair. she continued with a scoff, “especially after everything that happened last week, i had a feeling you’d come back here.” 

one thing about emma was that she always got whatever she wanted. but not here, not with atsumu. 

“never come back here again. i thought i made that clear when we broke up—guess i’ll have to drill it into your brain for you to actually understand. if you don’t leave me alone, i’ll reveal every single detail of what you did during the time we dated to the public.”

emma’s eyes widened. “are you crazy? are you threatening me right now?” 

that was another thing about emma: she only ever cared about herself. 

“our agreement was that i keep your shamefulness a secret. in exchange, you were to never associate with me again; never message or mention me; and never step foot near the places connected to me. this included the record store. you broke the rules first, i have every right to ‘threaten’ you.” 

atsumu’s body was less rigid now, but his eyes were still narrowed in earnest hatred. his disdain for emma ran deeper than anything anyone could ever imagine. 

when a waiter stopped by, atsumu waved an absent hand in dismissal. “i’m not ordering. i won’t be staying long enough for a drink anyway.” awkwardness swirled in the air and atsumu could feel the thundering displeasure coming from across the table. after the waiter walked away, emma grumbled, “could you have at least saved me some face? now i look desperate.” 

“funny. that’s rich coming from you.” 

“listen, i think there’s been a misunderstanding. i didn’t come here intending to break our agreement. i came here because i was worried about you.” 

emma’s third thing: her dedication to her cruel artifices, honing them like a mad woman. that was how she’d fooled him into becoming so disastrously lovesick. if he didn’t know better, he would’ve been swayed by her endearing concernment. 

“why would you be worried about me?” 

“because of the movie theater incident obviously. i recognized the denim hat you always wore, and that hoodie, it’s the one your brother gifted you, right?” 

atsumu’s gaze bore into her. he wanted to laugh at her absurdity but her words had brought up another issue he’d been dealing with: you. he hadn’t been able to talk to you all week. his mind was restless wondering how you’ve been doing. 

he wanted to talk to you in person, be surrounded by your warmth again and experience the fervid comfort you bring him just by being there. even now, in the disturbing presence of his ex-girlfriend, all he could think about was you. he thought about your worrisome craze for coffee, wondering if you’d like the small cafe he was currently in. he thought of all the puerile topics he’d talk to you about if you were sitting in front of him instead of emma. 

“still obsessed with me are we?” atsumu asked. 

to be honest, he was exhausted. he’d only come here to be alone in the record store absorbed by all the captivating music it had to offer. but no, he was wasting his time talking to a brick wall. he wished you were here instead. 

emma huffed, crossing one leg over the other. “honestly, how could you be so reckless? how could you get caught with a no name actress? good thing that guy cleared things up. do you know how damaging it could’ve been to you?” 

the fourth thing about emma was her shameless ideology: reputation and prestige mattered more than anything else. obviously this was all masked during the time they dated. for two years, she concealed her dishonesty and false compassion—even her friendliness and good nature weren’t real. she had played atsumu miya like a fool. and he often wondered if she ever went to sleep laughing quietly to herself while being cuddled in his arms. 

atsumu rubbed the bridge of his nose. of course he didn’t realize how damaging his actions could’ve been, he wasn’t even the one getting bashed on by randoms. it seemed—similarly to them—emma also lacked critical thinking skills. she failed to see that her fans were targeting you instead of him. so while she sat here blabbering ludicrously, you were probably still dealing with crazy fans in your comments. 

there was another thing atsumu couldn’t let go. how could she call you a “no name actress,” when you weren’t the one that paid your way into the industry? her comment was just ridiculous. 

“never talk about y/n like that ever again. i’m serious about my threat, emma. i wasn’t the one that wanted the agreement in the first place. you’re the only one who'll get hurt if i release a statement.” 

he prepared to stand when emma reached over and caught hold of his arm. he pulled away immediately, disgust written all over his face.  

emma let out a defeated sigh. “wait, please. look, i don’t think we ever got the closure we needed, so i came here to say i’ve changed a lot after we broke up. i don’t do that thing anymore…”

atsumu rolled his eyes, lowering himself to sit down again. it’s been more than a year since they separated. what closure did she need now? 

“and by ‘that thing,’ you mean your habit of bribing people,” he sneered. 

emma’s gaze faltered. his words had made her hesitate. “yes, i’m just grateful to director sage and his film. it allowed all of these opportunities and sponsorships to come in.” 

atsumu’s hands curled into fists by his side, his knuckles turning patently white. at that moment, he wanted to scream at her. she’d learned nothing; this whole time, she barely needed to lift a finger. all those opportunities were handed to her after she paid for a role on director sage’s film. it was still bribery. she still paid her way to success. 

“then what about your current role? why am i hearing people say you paid for that too?” 

“what? where are you hearing that?” she asked, enraged. emma’s fifth thing: she hated being criticized and proven wrong. 

“you forget that everyone in the industry hate you. staff members talk shit behind your back and actors despise your guts. even director sage hated working with you. it’s astonishing really.” 

emma was too dazed to reply. she didn't know if it was true or not, but she hoped it was just an attempt to rankle her. 

atsumu continued after her silence: “tell me, did you or did you not pass the audition?” 

“this again? i told you, i stopped doing that stuff a long time ago!” emma groaned, tapping her index finger against the table frantically. “obviously i passed. that’s why i have the role in the first place.” her finger continued to tap, her feet flicking up and down in a similar rhythm. 

“liar,” atsumu said plainly. “you’re lying right through your teeth. you did it again, didn’t you? used your dad’s money to buy the role you failed to get.” 

“i’m serious!” tap, tap, tap— everything about her was becoming a nuisance. she was a disturbance to the cafe’s homey atmosphere; her honeyed voice, the one he’d once loved so dearly, had turned rough and utterly annoying. 

atsumu shook his head. “oh, c’mon. you claim you’re an actress but you can barely lie to save your life. stop doing that thing with your finger and foot whenever you lie, it might help you save some embarrassment.” 

“are you being for real right now?” 

“extremely. so stop it, emma. stop trying to be so glorious. stop trying to act like jolie.” he scoffed in disbelief, “did you really have to stoop so low?” 

he watched as her face twisted in confusion. “i know you tried copying her personality. did you know she still gets hate for it? when your quote-unquote fans noticed similarities between how you both acted, they went rampant on jolie for ‘copying’ you. you’re poison, emma. you only cause people harm.” 

emma waved a dismissive hand in the air as if his words were a pest. that action alone embittered atsumu beyond belief. he could still remember how jolie felt after receiving hundreds of tirades from people online. she was torn between being true to her selfless nature or containing it. she’d chosen the latter, and it was only recently that she started loosening up again. 

“i’m done. i don’t know why i wasted my time here with you. if you post another picture as a ruse to get people talking, i really am going to expose how you cheated on me.” 

that garnered an immediate reaction. “it wasn’t like that!” 

“right. on our business trip, in our hotel room, on our bed. who were you even fucking? some a-lister you randomly met?” 

“i was drunk!” her exclamation received stares from nearby staff members. emma’s drink had been on standby for a while now, except no one was brave enough to bring it to her. they didn’t want to get caught in the heated conversation, preferring to tend to other customers. 

“you already gave that excuse,” atsumu said, his voice barely above a whisper. he was reliving hell just by sitting there. the memories of the heartbreaking incident were unfolding in his mind—the memories he wanted so badly to suppress. 

it just had to be on valentine’s day of all days. the two of them were invited overseas to partake in a modeling event; they were there for three days and on the last, emma reid got bored and messed up. 

atsumu learned two things that day: first was his girlfriend’s incompetency, and how she resorted to bribery to get acting roles. the next was her disloyalty and how their relationship was a complete lie. it all happened in a single evening. 

the last day of their trip was dedicated to solo activities only. emma had finished her duties early and was free to do whatever she wanted around the city. atsumu, on the other hand, was stuck at a stuffy and formal gathering. people of various reputable statuses were there and atsumu was invited as a guest by a brand he was modeling for. being social and talkative was one of atsumu’s strong suit—but it also led him to discovering a truth he never wanted to know. 

that night, a young man around atsumu’s age approached him with a smile. he was another model that was invited as a guest, and the two got along quickly. then, when the man asked about atsumu’s relationship, atsumu watched as he started to laugh boisterously. apparently the man’s worked with her before. the world really was small. 

“oh, but isn’t her family really rich? i heard her dad’s loaded! looks like he dotes on her a lot.” 

“and?” atsumu asked, wondering where the conversation was going. 

“well, i heard she only gets roles and gigs through underhand tactics. y’know, like bribery, using her family’s name and wealth to—“ 

“but you only heard that though. it’s not true, just gossip.” 

he gave atsumu’s arm a playful slap. “hey, man! stop hurting my feelings, i have lots of connections so i know everything that happens in that industry. it’s fucking twisted honestly,” the young man laughed again. “i heard a director talking about it once, so my suspicions are cleared. do you want another dri—“

by then, his words were already drowned out by atsumu’s racing thoughts. his mind was engaged in a futile debate, but he already knew what was true and what wasn’t. atsumu was slowly piecing together all the coincidences during the time they filmed with director sage. the director was always so distraught by her for no apparent reason; he was also much harsher on her compared to the others in the main cast. he was more displeased, more spiteful of the film despite it becoming a large success. connect that with everything else and a complete puzzle was formed. 

atsumu was too lovesick to see anything at the time. he was too convinced and blinded by her geniality to notice her hateful schemes. still, this was something the two of them could overcome… they could talk about it, resolve things, and he could help her become better. 

but could he? would his conscience allow it? would he be able to sleep soundly knowing he was with someone who stole opportunities from others? 

the rest of the event was a blur. when everything ended, atsumu rushed back to his hotel room, clinging onto the diminishing hope that everything would work out—that the two of them would still be okay after this. then, he saw someone leaving the shared hotel room: a man atsumu was sure he’d seen on one of the city’s billboards. the attractive man faltered when he saw atsumu in the hallway, and atsumu felt his world falling apart. 

a million assumptions ran through his mind and he reached the door in hurried steps, bypassing his girlfriend’s accomplice completely. the sight of her naked on their shared bed had said enough—said everything. 

clothes on the floor, crumpled sheets, tangled hair. all atsumu could do was whisper her name in crushing anguish. he stood there as she fumbled to shield herself with the blanket, shame overriding her previous smiling expression. she’d been caught. she’d messed up. 

he watched as she clothed herself, a swarm of emotions rushing through his veins. he swallowed his heartbreak and bore his defenses. he needed to prepare himself for the next few agonizing minutes. 

at first, he was calm. perhaps a bit shaken up, but he’d just returned back from an exhausting event. the collar of his dress shirt was digging into his skin, and he feared he didn’t have enough energy to argue. 

emma—beautiful and serene, the one person atsumu confidently loved with his whole being—sat in front of him avoiding eye contact. she didn’t say anything; she didn’t even apologize. the gesture made atsumu question their whole relationship. 

through her silence, atsumu found his strength to speak up. defend himself. he inevitably triggered a tug of war, a painful back and forth between him and her. both were persistent and defensive, becoming increasingly inflamed with anger.

their words sharpened into blades that pierced one another’s hearts at different angles. atsumu continued to sit while emma stood with ire surging through her body. she was on the verge of tears, overwhelmed by his barrage of accusations and questions directed at their relationship. 

did she even love him? did she even care about their future? about him? what was he to her? 

then, atsumu brought up her bribery and her facade instantly cracked. she didn’t give him any honest answers. the only thing that increased with her excuses were his sighs. so this was how they were going to end things. 

caught in the heat of the moment, emma admitted that atsumu was only a publicity stunt to her. she’d only dated him for more recognition and immersion into the acting industry. his good looks and charms were only a bonus. she’d said it out of spite, hoping to hurt his feelings, and it’d accomplished just that. 

it was done: their relationship, their future, everything. 

atsumu moved past emma to pack his belongings. he’ll get a new hotel room and flight tickets; he’ll get to see his brother again, maybe even visit rin in his studio, or just invite all three of them (omi if he’s not too busy) to play beach volleyball. yeah, he’ll be fine. everything will go back to normal when he lands in tokyo again. 

then, emma grabbed onto his arm. she begged him to keep everything a secret—to have the faintest sympathy towards her. if emma’s cheating schemes were exposed to the public, even her family’s wealth wouldn’t be enough to calm down the media. her bloodshot eyes and tear stained cheeks had convinced him. while he might’ve been in love with a facade this whole time, he’d still experienced happiness. she’d kept him content and smiling for two years; keeping this a secret was the least he could do. 

however, if he was going to do this, she needed to agree to his conditions as well. peace was all he wanted and he’d set up the agreement with it in mind. 

back in the cafe, emma continued to insist on a false reality: “atsumu, honestly, i didn’t know!” 

he saw her tapping finger and felt something ugly and twisted wrap around his tattered heart. he felt regret for ever comparing you to her. clearly, you were far greater and more special than emma will ever be. he truly wished her the worst. 

“we’re finished here. i don’t ever want to see you again; i know how precious your reputation is to you.” he stood from his seat, his sudden action surprising the nearby weary staff members. “oh, and, stop with your stunts, they’re embarrassing. you should know better than to drag rin into this. he hates your guts as much as i do, maybe even more.” 

“what?” she craned her head upwards to stare at him. “but he always waves back when i see him in the studio. he… smiles sometimes too.” 

“here’s the nice thing about rin: he’s not an actor but he can still lie. did you know he tells us everything behind your back? he always has a good laugh, saying how stupid you are.”

“he—!” 

“go buy some acting classes with your dad’s money for god’s sake. you have so much at least put it to good use.”

atsumu didn’t wait to see her reaction. he left the cafe immediately, calling for a taxi home.

masterlist ⌒☆ previous ⌒☆ next

fun facts:

atsumu was able to hang out with osamu, rin, and omi when he got back to tokyo. however, he fell into long periods of stagnation afterwards, finding it difficult to stop thinking about emma and their previous life together. it ultimately led to his year long hiatus.

the cafe staff members were lowkey eavesdropping, but they were completely clueless about what was happening. they're just teenagers trying to get a paycheck, someone help them. all they knew was that the girl messed up and the blond guy was right (as they should!).

please join the emma hate group along with me, atsumu, jolie, and rin (there are probably more members we hate this girl)

emma actually fumbled. why would you cheat on atsumu in the first place, please!!

TEACH ME HOW TO LOVE! ｡ｏ♡ an atsumu miya smau

synopsis: when y/n l/n, a rising actress, decides to star in a romance film that could make or break her career, she’s unable to showcase her skills, revealing her inexperience within the romance department instead. worst of all, atsumu miya, her co-star and the main lead’s love interest, seems to hate her guts! with absolutely, unbearably zero chemistry between the two, an idea was proposed: spend time with one another in the upcoming weeks. will y/n be able to ignore her professionalism and listen to her heart? and will she, a clueless romantic, be able to pick up on the signs her co-star is sending her?

a/n: idk if my writing is inconsistent pls tell me if it is actually no actually yeah. hmmm anyways act 3 guys !!!

taglist is open! dm or ask to be a part of it! (those bolded were unable to be tagged)

⌒☆ @kqbukimono @empathum @clyver @chosoluv @oceansfloor @sunarots @marga-j @rukia-uchiha-98 @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @rintarousgirl @ast4rg1rl @seiamor @saiewithakatana @usermins @literally-a-ferret @terrarain @iuspired @haruskatana @wolffmaiden @ris-krispie @vellichxrr6782 @animenaces-world @reignsaway @emii4evr @writing-for-the-hell-of-it @yuminako @tojirin @v3nusplanetofluv @vyvixen @secondary-character-25 @tenjikusstuff4 @444choso @mylahrins @deimmortales99 @hisfuture @staywhelmed8801 @dl-yum @nessaasstuff @milesmoralesluvs @101tsumu @ryeyeyer @cherrypieyourface @azharyy @mimi3lover @stayyyyyyyyyyyy21 @dazball @whykirbo

[superectojazzmage]

Watched the Nimona movie last night. Review I guess. It was pretty damn good. Definitely would’ve probably been regarded as Blue Sky’s magnum opus if they’d gotten to release it instead of being fucked over by Disney. Very cute, very funny, very powerful in the right moments. A thing that stuck out to me is that it’s really only an adaptation in the loosest sense of the word. It takes the core premise and beats of the comic but is functionally an entirely different kind of story that does its own thing. And given that ND Stevenson was heavily involved in production, I suspect that was intentional.

The comic was much darker and more downbeat in a lot of ways, plus it was significantly longer and thus could afford to be slower paced. But more than that, it was a lot more meaty in terms of themes and scope. The whole “LGBT allegory” element was there, but it wasn’t the sole focus, the comic was a story about a lot of different things; not just an LGBT experience, but also discussion of fantasy genre tropes and clichés, criticism of other fantasy deconstructions, character study, exploring what it means to be a hero or villain, critique of the glorification of crime and cruelty in underprivileged communities, corruption in governments, peer pressure, the senseless and self-perpetuating nature of violence, the worthlessness of revenge, etc.. And above all that, it was a story about trauma and people’s responses to it, with Ballister representing people who actually deal with their problems and move on while Nimona represented people who let their mistakes and suffering and grief consume their identity, or worse, use it as an excuse to indulge their worst qualities and take out their feelings on everyone around them.

The movie, by contrast, has a much more narrow focus. The LGBT allegory is front and center and basically the entire focal point of the movie, aside from a spattering of themes about the danger of zealotry and rigid fundamentalist thinking. This gives the movie a much tighter narrative and pacing that suits its inherently shorter runtime, but also leads to a ton of changes to the story either to convey a different kind of message or just work better in a different medium. Most obviously in how Nimona is vastly more sympathetic in the movie and essentially really is the silly gremlin the comic fakes you out into thinking she is, scrapping the comic’s twist that she was a genuinely bad person who was completely serious about wanting to be a villain, caring nothing for the lives she destroyed with her behavior and idolizing Ballister because she thought he was the same as her and would thus tell her what she wanted to hear (i.e., that she was justified in killing and destroying everything around her in the name of getting even). And in the changes to the Institution’s history and nature. And all sorts of other things.

All in all, I feel if you go in comparing and contrasting the movie and the comic, arguing which changes are for the better or worse, you’ll be setting yourself up for disappointment in either direction because they’re two different beasts and it’s like comparing apples and oranges. So keep that in mind if you’re a fan of the comic watching the movie or a fan of the movie wanting to look into the comic. I think ultimately I still like the comic better, but that’s purely my personal opinion and there’s plenty that I think the movie did better.

Some other observations:

Riz Ahmed my beloved, thank you Mr. Stevenson for this perfect casting. Literally perfect for Ballister.

Acting in general was very good. You can tell this was a passion project for a lot of people, not just Stevenson.

Only two changes that are objectively bad are Ambrosius losing his awesome Van Halen hairdo and changing Ballister’s last name — Blackheart is a way cooler name than Boldheart and it’s a pointless change, one that I’d argue even hurts the narrative since it makes it too obvious that Ballister isn’t actually a bad guy.

The animation is really great with fantastic expressions, stylish movement, and wonderful aesthetics that perfectly suit the story, but there’s times where it feels a little off. But there are parts where it looks less “movie” and more “cheap mid-2000s CGI-and-Flash cartoon show from France”.

The humor can be a hit and miss, in a “going through the motions of a Hollywood animated comedy for kids” way. The movie excels when it’s either imitating the comic’s Old Internet sense of humor or going hard on the drama, but there’s bits where it seemingly slams on the brakes to do Illumination-esque Twitter humor and those bits definitely throw off the vibe.

Having an actual straight up attempted suicide in the climax was shockingly ballsy. I genuinely can’t believe they went there, but I’m glad they did because the film wouldn’t have felt nearly as raw without it.

I don’t know how they managed to make the Director even more of an asshole than in the comics, but they did.

[senawashere]

about those TGM requests

me with fanboy... that's it.

First rule...

Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x Female!Girlfriend!reader

Summary: Movie date night turns into a little lecture with Mickey.

A/n: Thank you sweetheart for requesting this!! Love you!!💋💋

Warnings: None just pure fluff,just kissing!

°•°•°•°•☆♡☆°•°•°•°

"What is the first rule of fight club sweetheart?" Mickey asked looking at you with a grin,soon to be a disappeard.

"What?" You ask. There is 50 second eye contact with Mickey and he looks at you with wide eyes and a dropped jaw.

“How have you never seen Fight Club before? How babe?”

Mickey’s shocked expression made laugh hard while he was still looking at you like you have 3 heads. That’s how you end up watching Fight Club for the first time

The night was crisp and chilly, the kind that made you want to curl up with someone you love under a thick blanket. And your boyfriend who freshly returned from a long deployment was looking good for this.

Mickey and you had settled into the couch, your legs tangled together under layers of soft, cozy throws. The dim light from the screen of your TV flickered across the room as the opening credits of "Fight Club" rolled.

Mickey had insisted on movie night after a long time, and you had eagerly agreed. He loved "Fight Club"—its gritty realism, the intense performances, and its provocative themes. It was the perfect escape. Mickey, however, had a tendency to dive into the details, dissecting every scene with an intensity he usually reserved for his flights.

"Did you know that David Fincher wanted the audience to feel the subconscious presence of Tyler Durden from the start?" Mickey's voice was animated, his eyes sparkling with excitement. "They actually spliced frames of Brad Pitt into scenes before his character was even introduced. It’s so subtle that you barely notice it."

You nodded, smiling at his enthusiasm. It was only 10 minutes and he was telling every fact he knew.

"That's pretty impressive," you said, trying to keep the conversation light. The last thing you wanted was to dampen his spirits, but you really just wanted to enjoy the movie without the running commentary. And with the movie being a hard one to understand you were struggling.

As the film progressed, Mickey continued his enthusiastic ramblings. "Right here!The chemical burn scene? They used vinegar and baking soda to create the smoke effect on Norton’s hand. And Fincher actually used footage of real skin-burning reactions for authenticity."

You nodded again, more absently this time. Your eyes were fixed on the screen, trying to lose yourself in the gritty visuals and dark humor, but Mickey's voice kept pulling you back. What the hell was going on in this movie? As you thought while Mickey gave you every single fact for every shot.

"For the scenes where they destroy the corporate art, they used a combination of practical effects and CGI. They really wanted it to look and feel anarchistic, like a real middle finger to consumer culture," Mickey continued, his voice unwavering in its excitement.

"Mickey," you said softly, hoping to gently steer him back to just watching. "I am really trying to understand it and it is very hard while you talk like this baby.”

He glanced at you, his smile apologetic but still eager. "Sorry, I just find all these little details fascinating. Like, did you know when Marla and Tyler were fucki—"

You leaned over and kissed him, cutting off his words mid-sentence. His lips were warm and soft, a stark contrast to the cool night air that seeped through the windows. For a moment, he was startled, but then he relaxed into the kiss, his hands finding their way to your waist.

When you finally pulled back, you looked into his eyes and saw a mixture of surprise and amusement. "I just really want to enjoy the movie," you whispered, your voice barely audible over the yelling from the narator.

He chuckled softly, his hand coming up to brush a stray lock of hair from your face. "Got it," he said, his voice a gentle murmur. "I'll try to keep the commentary to a minimum."

"Thank you,my love" you said, snuggling closer to him. "But I do love your passion for it."

Mickey smiled and wrapped his arm around you, pulling you into his chest. You lay there together, the movie playing on, and for a while, he managed to stay quiet. You lost yourself in the dark narrative, the twisted philosophy, and the raw performances.

But it wasn't long before Mickey couldn't help himself. "They filmed this scene in an actual abandoned building. Can you imagine how creepy that must have been?" Mickey continued, his voice unwavering in its excitement. You turned your head slightly to look at him, your expression a mix of exasperation and fondness. He caught your look and grinned sheepishly. "Sorry, sorry," he said, kissing your forehead. "I just got carried away."

"I know you do," you said with a sigh, though you couldn't keep the smile off your face. "It's one of the things I love about you."

You settled back into silence, and you tried to focus on the movie again. Mickey's arm was around you, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on your shoulder. The warmth of his body next to yours, combined with the soothing rhythm of the film, was enough to make you forget the world outside.

But true to form, Mickey couldn't resist one last comment. "The ending... the whole twist with Tyler Durden being the Narrator's alter ego. Fincher hinted at it throughout the film with subliminal flashes of Tyler before he actually appears."

You didn't respond this time, just leaned your head against his shoulder and let the movie's final scenes wash over you. When the credits finally rolled, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, moved by the powerful conclusion. Mickey wiped the tear away with his thumb, his expression soft and tender. "Told you," he whispered.

You nodded, unable to speak for a moment. Then you looked up at him and smiled. "You were right," you said. "It was brilliant."

He leaned down and kissed you again, and this time, you didn't stop him. The movie was over, but the night was still young, and there was no place you'd rather be than here, wrapped in Mickey's arms, sharing these quiet moments together.

“Okay baby,spill all the facts now.” You said watching him forming a big grin on his face.

“"The guy who plays the Narrator—Edward Norton—he actually punched Brad Pitt in one of the scenes. They wanted it to look as real as possible and also did you know that they used CGI to create some of these opening credits? That's so cool and you see the way the camera moves during this fight scene? It's a single take. No cuts. That takes incredible skill from both the actors and the crew and listen you know the scene where they blow up the buildings? We saw it right now. They used a combination of miniatures and CGI to get the perfect shot. It’s so realistic that people thought they actually demolished a skyscraper. And this is so funny, did you know that Brad Pitt and Edward Norton actually learned how to make soap for their roles in 'Fight Club'? They attended soap-making classes to prepare for their characters' underground soap business,isn’t so funny. And als-”

“Okay that’s enough baby please!!”

°•°•°•°☆♡☆°•°•°•°

Need a man like this🤭

I'm tagging people who might be interested: @ohtobeleah @sebsxphia @callsign-fox @greenorangevioletgrass @roosterforme @teacupsandtopgun @floydsglasses @lyn-js @its-dee-lovely @its-the-pilot @friedchips94 @hardballoonlove @topguncortez @bradshawsbaddie @shanimallina87 @djs8891 @themusingofagothicsoul @promisingyounglady @the-romanian-is-bae @mamachasesmayhem @jessicab1991 @iefitzgerald-blog @charcole-grey @waterriseslew @desert-fern @eternalsams @callsigns-haze @promisingyounglady @els-marvelvsp @cevansbaby-dove @atarmychick007 if you are not comfortable please tell me!!

[piko-rose]

It wasn't until the Knuckles Series trailer when I realized how much I love Sonic and Knuckles' dynamic.

Honestly, I'm just excited to see these two interact. I know the show's probably not gonna focus more on these two and more on Knuckles and Wade, but them interacting is something I NEED.

Especially since this is after Sonic 2 and they've become (brothers) friends after their confrontation and after Sonic finds out that what Knuckles been through as a child is the same as what Sonic himself went through.

I just wanted to talk about Sonic and Knuckles' growth in their friendship and in themselves and how it makes me feel at the moment because their relationship and brotherhood is gonna drive me crazy and I need to tell EVERYTHING.

Everything will be under the cut since it's gonna be one hell of a ramble post. (btw if you tag this as ship I'll sell your kneecaps to the dark web)

At the beginning of the movie, Sonic suddenly got a visit from his worst enemy that he thought was banished to the dreaded Mushroom hellscape. He didn't expect him to bring any company, however.

An Echidna. The same species who nearly took Sonic's life and took Longclaw's.

Sonic only knew these Echidna best from the day where he lost everything. He couldn't save Longclaw in time from the Echidna tribe. He did blame himself, but deep down he was also mad at the Echidna.

So it was understandable that Sonic wouldn't be so pleased to see an Echidna in his house.

It's one thing if Robotnik came back, but a random Echidna who swore to destroy Sonic at any cost? Sonic ain't having none of that.

The Echidna took away something dear to him once, he won't let it happen again.

There's just one problem: Knuckles is WAY too strong for Sonic. He may have the speed, but he didn't have the punches like Knuckles.

Clearly it was quite a terrifying moment for Sonic. He couldn't fight back against the Echidna and he even knew about Longclaw.

From his POV, it was all shocking. Of course later on in the movie, he finds out that the Owls and Echidna were at war for the longest time over the Master Emerald.

So it's no wonder that Knuckles is after Sonic, who was raised by Longclaw.

So the fact that Sonic and Knuckles thought they were both bad guys is actually pretty messed up, since the Owls were the bad guys to the Echidna as well, so Knuckles thought that Sonic was the bad guy too.

MAN-

And after learning more about the Master Emerald, it was Sonic (and Tails') mission to make sure the Emerald is safe and make sure Robotnik BUT ESPECIALLY KNUCKLES don't get their hands on it.

Everything about Knuckles is a mystery to Sonic. He doesn't know a lot about him. All he knows is that he's after a giant gemstone full of ultimate power.

The power to turn thoughts into reality.

And since Sonic knows that Echidna only want power to themselves and other selfish needs, at least according to him, he knew Knuckles has to be stopped. Robotnik included, but now there is a new threat.

A threat Sonic wished would never come back to his life.

Meanwhile with Knuckles himself...

Knuckles never really thought about sticking around with Robotnik. He only needed his help to find the hedgehog. But after overhearing about ultimate power, Robotnik insists to join Knuckles on his journey.

Knuckles doesn't know a lot about Robotnik and was a first skeptical, but he seemed to be trustworthy. If he wanted to help Knuckles restore power to his people, then he would have to believe that maybe forming an alliance with this man won't be so bad.

After all,

When was the last time Knuckles had a friend? When was the last time Knuckles trusted someone? When was the last time someone liked him, or looked after him?

After what happened to his people?

The closest family member he had was his father, who he and his tribe never came back after their battle. Knuckles was left there, waiting for them to come back.

It eventually dawned on him that they'll never come back.

For the longest time, he went off on his own to find this hedgehog, for vengeance. And to find the Master Emerald in time before he does. (I think he believed he was searching for the Emerald as well.)

Throughout his journey in the galaxy, he came across some trouble along the way. Some scavengers straight up take him away and put him in a Rise of the TMNT ass arena. (You know the one I'm talking about. 😉)

Apparently word goes around about how Echidna are, and Knuckles didn't like this at all. (He won against the beast in case you're curious.)

He did gain some assistance on helping him find the hedgehog, but he wouldn't call them his friends. They are only there to help him without a choice after all.

What caught his and the scavengers' attention was the energy surge that spread through the galaxy from this planet invested with mushrooms.

The first thing he finds is this bald man with weird clothes and a blue quill that looked awfully familiar. This man knows where the hedgehog is and where to find him.

For a while, Knuckles been on his adventure alone after loosing his family. He thought he was better off alone on his journey, but after meeting Robotnik, he never knew that he would befriend this man.

He seems to be smart and makes all kinds of machines, and even has a goat milker. (The king of Bi Men, Agent Stone) If Robotnik can help him find the hedgehog, and the Master Emerald, then Knuckles is fine with being friends with this man.

He never had a friend before, he only had a father. A friend sounds nice. Who wouldn't be friends with Robotnik?

Sonic and Knuckles' view of each other shifted slightly during this scene, in Siberia.

Knuckles is tired of Sonic messing around, saying that he knows nothing about him. All Sonic knows is that his tribe is most famous for ruining his life. (Ouch)

Knuckles didn't take that kindly, stating that he lost everything because of you. His people, his father.

The reason why Knuckles' journey is important to him right now, was his father's last words to him:

"Your moment to honor our tribe will come, but it was not this moment."

Hmmm... That's sound really familiar...

Wait a minute...

WAIT A MINUTE...

"There will come a time where your powers will be needed... But you don't choose that moment. That moment chooses you."

Tom Wachowski said that. Sonic's father.

Those words were similar to what Knuckles' father told him... before he died.

Sonic really didn't know Knuckles. At all.

Yes, what Knuckles is doing is pretty bad. He still assume that Knuckles is gonna use the Emerald for something awful.

But after hearing Knuckles' story on what happened to his people and his father... After what happened to all those Echidna and Longclaw... After figuring out that him and Knuckles' trauma share similarities... After figuring out that they both lost something so important to them...

Sonic just felt... devastated. (The second image even looked like he's on the verge of tears finding out this information. 🥺)

He had zero clue Knuckles went through all that, and just trash talked his tribe right there. Hearing his story just... broke his heart.

He, too, lost everything that day. They both lost everything that day.

Knuckles didn't have to hunt down Sonic because of all that but he did, because since he was technically on the Owl's side, Sonic was also "responsible" for the demise of his tribe.

Knowing that Knuckles believes this just hurts Sonic more. To make things worse, Tails attacked at the wrong time, giving Knuckles the belief that Sonic was tricking him.

At this point of the fight, I believe Sonic doesn't want to fight this guy. Yes, he's on Robotnik's side, but he wished he wasn't.

He knows Robotnik and Knuckles doesn't. Robotnik might mess with the Echidna and just make things worse for him. If he is his ally, the first one he had maybe, then it won't be pretty if Robotnik does something stupid.

Unfortunately, that's exactly what happens next.

The next time they meet was in the Labyrinth, right where the Master Emerald is. Knuckles is done with Sonic's crap, and Sonic is going to stop him.

Sonic really didn't wanted to fight him anymore, and just wanted him and Robotnik to leave the Master Emerald...

But he's not given much choice.

A big fight broke off between two powerful critters over the Emerald, meanwhile Robotnik sneaks off to get the Master Emerald into his grasp.

Thankfully, before things got messy, Sonic pointed out that Robotnik was stealing the Emerald, and this infuriates Knuckles.

This man. This deceiving man, wished to join his side to take out the hedgehog just to take the Emerald for himself.

Robotnik himself even mocked at the fact that Knuckles believed that he and Robotnik were friends. The first friend he ever had, and he straight up betrayed him.

And just like that, he takes the Emerald and leaves. (or Chaos Controlled I think...?)

The place begins to flood and Knuckles gets trapped underwater. Sonic, not okay with the fact he has to go in the water, AGAIN, jumps in anyways to save him.

He cannot let this guy drown. He went through too much crap and he can't let this happen to him. He doesn't care that they fought, he wanted to save him.

Eventually he did, but...

Sonic couldn't swim. He tried to reach out for Knuckles who was getting further and further away from him. He nearly drowned but at the right moment, Knuckles came back down to save him.

They both have a moment together on the beach, throwing sand at each other. XD

Knuckles was confused on why Sonic saved him, despite the fact he tried to destroy him. He says that being a hero isn't about taking care of yourself, instead it's about taking responsibility for other people. Words from his own father.

While Tails was on his way to save Sonic, Knuckles mentions how he and Sonic lost everything and wonders how despite that and failing, how did he kept going?

Simple. He found a new family. New friends. And he can too.

Learning about Knuckles' childhood, and knowing what he been through, and witnessing Robotnik's betrayal to him, it's clear that he need to do something for Knuckles.

He knows that Knuckles isn't the bad guy, he was just used for Robotnik's deeds. Knuckles only wanted what was best for him and his people.

But Sonic knows now what Knuckles really needs.

A family.

Knuckles lost his and so did Sonic. He doesn't want Knuckles to be alone again. He's been alone for too long just like Sonic. He offers Knuckles to join him on his adventure.

But he also wanted him to join his family.

Knuckles is quite surprised about the offer. It's understandable.

All they've been doing whenever they meet is fight, but after learning about themselves, after a small quiet talk with each other, Sonic just...

Smiles and offers his hand. He doesn't want him to be alone anymore.

Knuckles just looks at him. It look liked he was unsure about the offer for a split second. But he's thinking about it, as Sonic smiled at him.

After everything they've done to each other, Sonic is willing to help him out and give him everything he truly needed without even knowing what he truly needed.

Sonic, according to Knuckles, is a strange hedgehog, but has a heart of gold. He seems to be strong too after all this time. He lost everything, but he never gave up. Not even once, even when things get tough.

He gained a new family because of that.

Knuckles respects that. Mentally anyway.

It will take some time to process and adjust everything, but if what Sonic's saying is true, about not being alone anymore...

Then Knuckles believes him.

After taking the offer, a lot happened afterwards.

Him and Sonic and Tails fight against a giant Eggman Mech.

He gave Robotnik a taste of his medicine and retrieve the Master Emerald before him and Tails fall to the ground.

He and Tails witnessed Tom, Maddie and Sonic getting crushed by Robotnik, before seeing that Sonic absorbed the power of the Emeralds.

Tries to protect Tom and Maddie from a possible corrupted Sonic, but then gets slapped by a chili dog.

He and his newfound friends made a vow to protect the Master Emerald.

And plays baseball for the first time with his friends and goes out for victory ice cream.

It's safe to say that Sonic and Knuckles' friendship means a lot to me than I thought. With the Knuckles series coming out, I am excited to see what will happen between them.

It's clear that it will be just older and younger brother shenanigans and I am all here for it.

I love their dynamic a lot, but now I'm a little obsessed with them at the moment. Their origins and their differences and how they grew together is really special to me.

I love Sonic and Tails' dynamic but Sonic and Knuckles' is something I never really thought of a lot until now.

Every time I watch Sonic 2, I just feel so happy for Knuckles now that he's got friends and family who love him and look out for him.

In fact, after watching Sonic 2 for the first time, almost two years ago, I loved Knuckles a lot. I used to think he was a fine character. I enjoy his character, but after watching the movie, he became one of my top 10 favorite characters.

I love him so much and I cannot wait to see more of my favorite version of Knuckles, and more of Sonic and Knuckles' interactions.

[starsnsparkl3s]

broken promises

cw: heavy mentions of death and suicidal thoughts, angst, based on this scene from greys anatomy with no context

"when are you going to stop suggesting that im suicidal?"

the question sounds also bizarre coming out of your lips. you and al haitham have been going back and forth about your results from the impromptu search nahida and the esteemed traveler did, along with paimon. you were a suspect in a dream that needed to be destroyed immediately, however, what they saw was worse than the dream that was the main goal.

dark images flickered around them, unlike all the previous dreams, full of emotions and color. hallucinations of various shades of red surrounded them, it felt as if they were being suffocated from being in your head to begin with. of course, for your own health, they told your husband, al haitham, about the pictures they saw. he tried talking to you about it, which resulted in the conflict in front of you now.

he took your weapon away from you, the weapon you used to protect sumeru, not caring if you put your life on the line. it was your job after all, but not even cyno was that careless.

"when you start acting like someone who wants to be alive."

your eyebrow raised, scoffing. as much as you loved al haitham, he really was insufferable sometimes and moments like this are were you wished he wasn't so stubborn. however, you were stubborn as well.

"give me my weapon back."

"why?”

" because im not suicidal and if you believe that, you’re wrong. "

now it was his turn to scoff. he put his hand on his hip and stared at you. the person he fell in love with, void of sentiment and passion. you still looked as lovely as the first time he met you but now you looked just as dead as carcasses he'll see in the desert. a few seconds pass before he responds.

"what happened last year when you fell in the water?”

your blood ran cold as the words left his mouth. last year you were trying to save a group of kids that were playing in one of the construction sites, which wasn't sturdy whatsoever. as you saved all the kids, one by one, the wood holding up the base of the building fell into the water. one of the kids started crying, saying how they needed to go in the water to get their photograph.

it was a photograph of them and their parents, who apparently passed. and you went in there. without a second thought. the water pricked your skin because of how cold it was, but you still went in and got that photograph. after you got out, soaked with the picture still in tack, the kids thanked you profusely and left. you passed out soon after, the hypothermia and the water pressure almost taking you out. al haitham wasn't pleased but nothing he could say could ever change your mind.

"i almost drowned! you think i did that for kicks?”

"you went in a body of water that was CLEARLY too cold and too deep for you to handle.”

"i was trying to save his picture!”

your head pounded with nothing. you were frustrated of course, but your body didn't feel anything. you couldn't tell that your headache was a migraine, it just felt, heavy.

"why is it, that every person there, even cyno, had the sense to leave and run from the danger besides you?”

you went to quip back but he continued.

"you know, people run away from this line between life and death. you just seem to stand on it as if it's a tightrope in the middle of the hurricane, waiting for it to push you one way or the other.”

you crossed your arms. you'd hate to admit it, but he was right. you didn't see an actual purpose into living besides protecting sumeru. you never had an urge to run for safety

"you're careless with your life. you're not trying to kill yourself, but you're careless."

your eyes filled with tears with his words. your head felt heavy and dizzy, your vision going in and out like a bad '50s movie. your body shook in some emotion you couldn't even tell at this point. you knew he wanted to help and he was worried, al haitham has always been like this. pushy and unforgiving with hid care.

“i am NOT carele-!”

“not even cyno would pull the shit you do. not even the TRAVELER THEMSELVES, would pull the shit you do. all three of you do implausible nonsense warranting such-”

“I DO IT FOR THE PEOPLE OF SUMERU,” your voice softening from the sudden uproar as the next few words leave your mouth, “…and you know that al haitham.”

his heart feels like it got chipped with one of liyue’s finest pickaxes. strong enough to break the outside but careful enough to preserve the inside. his voice wavers, but his next words make the tears from your eyes fall harder.

“no, you do it for yourself. you do it just for the chance of losing your life. just for the off chance, that you get caught in the storm and you die with a purpose.”

an: im back!!!!!!! ignore how bad this is i finished it at 5am so i had something for you guys…. apologies!

[pessimisticpigeonsworld]

The Demonizing of Change

A trend I've noticed in modern media is that many stories have the message of "protect the status quo". Whether it's a Marvel movie or a fantasy book, the fact that so often the villains are the only ones who fight to change society remains the same.

We all know the story: they were hurt by the system's flaw(s) and so they rose up to destroy that harmful system and in the process destroyed themselves. I'm not saying that this character type is wrong or bad (definitely overused imo), but the framing of the narrative and the protagonists is the issue.

The narrative typically shows the villain's first wrong doing to be the act of rebelling against the system. From the moment the person chose to reject the harmful system, they were in the wrong, or so the narrative frames it. Meanwhile, the protagonist may question and see injustice but they never fight it; it's just accepted and blindly defended. What's worse is the audience chooses to completely accept this telling and sides with the harmful regime the protagonist defends.

I find that some of the most drastic examples of these issues are Daenerys in GOT and the Darkling in the Grishaverse/SaB.

Daenerys Targaryen

One thing I want to specify before I go into this is that Dany's GOT ending is purely bad writing. It's not foreshadowed or justified in any way, so I'll be addressing how D&D tried to frame her past after S8e6 aired and how her antis interpret her.

According to D&D, we should see the beginning of Dany's "madness arc" from the very first season. Namely how she reacted to Viserys' death. While this isn't Dany rejecting a harmful system, her choosing to not defend Viserys (why would she??) is also her choosing to leave behind the cycle of abuse of her early life. It also sets the precedent of Dany killing/allowing the deaths of evil men.

Speaking of evil men, D&D also tried to paint Dany's campaign against slavery as a sign of her "megalomania and madness". This is where we get to the actual fighting against the system. Dany is leading a slave revolt and forcefully overthrowing the masters and the oppressive governments.

The way D&D tried to spin it was that Dany was wrong for using violence, and Tyrion's peaceful method was more successful. Except Dany did try peace in Meereen, it didn't work. She made concessions, she made agreements, she locked up her dragons and they weren't working. That's the whole point of her last chapter in ADWD.

However, the show chose to make it so Dany was failing because she was "too violent" and ultimately made the freedmen hate her. This choice, a clear deviation from the book, is the beginning of them trying to make Dany fall into the trope of "as bad as those you're fighting". In her fight to end slavery, she becomes as oppressive as the masters.

Which is just blatantly wrong. We see in the show that the freedmen are still free, they sit in her councils, they can come to her with their complaints and she listens. Dany is a queen, not a master. The show was already trying to gaslight its audience into believing the opposite of what they wrote. The same goes for her supposed violence. The violence she exerts is almost always towards the slavers, except when she executed Mossador for murder. That was her carrying out justice, why that was portrayed as a bad thing is beyond me.

The implications of the choices D&D made in adapting Dany's Meereen arc are very disturbing. They're basically saying that systematic and centuries old oppression should never be addressed with violence. The people who actively fight oppression are just as bad as the oppressors. If you can't magically fix a system that's been flawed for centuries immediately, you're a tyrant.

The choice to resolve the arc by having Tyrion come in with some great peaceful solution was plain stupid and sexist. We have seen in history that trying to unobtrusively phase out slavery doesn't work. By leaving the elite slave owners in peace, they are allowed to simply find ways to get around or wear down the changes. We see that in ADWD in Meereen by the way. Also the whole idea that a wise man had to come and fix the irrational woman's problem is so gross.

So basically: D&D took an arc about fighting oppression and learning that concessions only continue the cycle of violence and made it into a story about how violence is bad and you can actually just reason with slavers.

The disgusting ideas continue in season eight, where Dany torches KL for no reason and is put down like a rabid dog. Dany is the only character who wants to end oppression in this show. She's the only person to see and experience the suffering of the oppressed and chooses to do something about it. Season seven is full of her talking about leaving the world a better place and breaking the wheel. But in season eight "breaking the wheel" is turned into th deranged battle cry of her desired empire.

Let me restate that: the one character who fought to end systematic oppression is turned into the "true oppressor". Dany's desire to tear down the system that the entire show established as being unjust and awful is made into a sign of madness. Even in season seven, people were rolling their eyes at her talking about breaking the wheel.

Meanwhile, the protagonists of the show end it benefitting from the same system that tortured them the whole time. Westerosi society is shit, but the show ends glorifying the sexist, homophobic, classist, and feudalist kingdoms. They even laugh at Samwell Tarly when he suggests destroying the monarchy. All this sends the message that embracing the system is good, rebellion bad, and shut the fuck up if you're not happy.

Dany was reduced to a cautionary tale against fighting the system. I've seen people frame it as "seeking power is bad", but that doesn't make sense, as characters like Sansa actively seek power and are rewarded by the narrative. Dany's mistake was trying to change the world, rather than supporting it as it is.

The Darkling

The Darkling is a very different character from Dany; he's an actual villain. Aleksander is someone who has already reached the "become what you hate most" part of the trope, so he spends the whole story committing atrocities. The issue with his portrayal is the fact that the narrative and protagonists never address his very real reasons for fighting in the first place.

The grisha as a group are persecuted all throughout Ravka, they have been for centuries. The whole reason Aleksander begins his fight was to protect his people. By the time the series begins, the grisha are more protected, though only because they have become weapons of the state. That was only through Aleksander's mechanisations.

Aleksander became a villain in his attempts to save his people, making him a tragic character. So he has perfectly fallen into the trope, and, unfortunately, so do the protagonists. Alina and her allies all have seen and suffered under the cruelty of the Ravkan monarchy, however, they quickly dismiss just how awful it is. By the end of the story, the Darkling has become, in their eyes, the sole perpetrator of evil in Ravka.

There are no attempts made to rectify the constant damage done by the Apparat, in fact he's left to run free. Alexander Lanstov and Tatiana Grimjer are simply shipped off to a private island where they never are made to pay for the awful things they have done. There are no political reforms done to ensure the safety of grisha in the future; they're basically relying on the goodwill Zoya and Alina have bought with the people.

So basically, the minor villains who all had no reason to be completely atrocious receive basically no punishment from the narrative. Meanwhile, Aleksander, who had very valid reasons for wanting to overthrow the government, is ultimately given a fate worse than death. All his reasons for hating the Ravkan government and the power it has are ignored, even though the story set up that he's not wrong. The resolution of the story leaves the grisha just as, if not more, vulnerable to the prejudice and hatred of the world than they were before.

The narrative is communicating that Aleksander rising up for his people is worse than the centuries of corrupt Lanstovs. Aleksander is worse than the man who stirs up religious fanaticism and exploits the people through it. Yes, Aleksander did horrible things, but so did every other antagonist in the series, but he's somehow the worst because...well, he's grisha.

That's the only other difference between him and the others, aside from his motives. So either Bardugo is supporting the in-universe prejudice against grisha or she's saying rising up against an oppressive system is wrong. I don't expect her or any other author to have complex political and social commentaries in her story. However, she chose to create a world containing those elements and a main character who suffers from them. She chose to make the issues with the system have a prominent place in the story. And she chose to ignore them in the end.

Aleksander did awful things in the name of a just cause, this creates a complex moral issue that the story just never addresses. The established injustices and sanctioned atrocities by the Lanstovs are all ignored in favor of bringing down the dangerous rebel. That kind of message is pretty fucked up. Yes, Nikolai is a better man than his father, but what about his descendants? The propaganda of the Apparat and his church are extremely strong, it's only a matter of time before that propaganda once again starts turning people against grisha. The hatred of grisha is still embedded into Ravkan society.

Aleksander was the only character who was actually set on protecting and bettering the lives of the grisha. His original mission was still extremely important, no matter what he devolved to. The fact that the protagonists just blatantly dismissed just how dangerous Ravka still is for grisha is frustrating.

The treatment of both Dany and Aleksander by their writers and narratives show a hatred/mistrust of rebellion against the status quo, no matter how atrocious it is. The message of the trope is that people who fight against a system are worse than the system itself. I'm not saying that was Bardugo's intention (D&D I'm much less sure about though), but the way both the Darkling and Dany were written combined with the endings of the stories support that idea.

[mmikmmik]

One underrated aspect of Mouthwashing is that it's really good as a video game.

I thought the player feedback was super strong. There's so many little gimmicky nightmare worlds and "minigames" and the game really helps you understand them very quickly and keep up the momentum. There were only a couple times I got stuck for long enough that I felt like it was breaking me out of the narrative, and I was able to resolve them pretty quickly. And one of them was my own fault - I was trying to use an item somewhere the devs had already indicated it was impossible, because I forgot about the little framing that pops up to indicate you can go into "interaction mode". That's a great little UI mechanism for making it super obvious what is and isn't interactive while still being unobtrusive and letting you feel immersed in the ship environment. Oh, and using the birthday cake scene to introduce the sawing mechanic? So when the player saws at Curly's leg, it's an incredibly powerful callback and the player already knows what they're supposed to do, defending the emotional punch from a "wait... which buttons am I supposed to press for this...?" moment? Brilliant.

Mouthwashing also has beautiful interplay between its gameplay elements and its storytelling. I think of Mouthwashing as "movie-like", because I feel like the pacing + tone + themes remind me very much of horror movies, but this story is meant to be a game. Think of the scene where Jimmy is basically telling Curly that he intends to destroy the ship. It starts with the player controlling Curly in first person POV. But right as Jimmy is talking about how Curly doesn't have agency in his own life ("You're standing at the top. Feet in cement. I get it now.") the camera escapes Curly's perspective and moves into a third person perspective, giving us our first look at pre-crash Captain Curly.

That was the last moment Curly had to avert the tragedy. He knew Jimmy had attacked Anya. Anya told Curly that Jimmy must be physically prevented from accessing the means to hurt the rest of the crew. Jimmy said it would be best if they all just died and then walked away saying "I'll take care of it" and Curly stood there watching him and did nothing. In chronological order, the next scene is the first time the player controls Jimmy. The agency and control, the status of "player character", has left Curly. He let himself become a character in Jimmy's story. And by the time he gets control again, it's already too late.

(Not that I think the game is actually presenting "player character" status as something that's true or real. Look how much Anya's internal life and deliberate choices shape the story, before and after the crash, even as Jimmy casts her as an annoying quest-giver NPC.)

I also really like how much playing through the little nightmare vignettes have the player recreate Curly and Jimmy's decisions. Like when Jimmy is forced to stare directly at the post-it note that's telling him to take responsibility (or whatever the exact words are), but he simply backs away from it. It's all about the way he finds mental and emotional loopholes to get away from what he's done, no matter how directly he's forced to confront it. What other medium could so intimately guide you through that metaphor, to express its internal logic so clearly without words? God, I love video games.