#and i don’t watch horror movies like. at all. so my frame of reference for that is incredibly narrow my apologies

[askwilliamwisp]

wiwi whats ur favorite horror movie? or genre of horror?

Well, I don’t tend to watch horror movies all that often. They remind me too much of Deadwood, even if Deadwood has sorta desensitized me to some of the more fucked up things in horror.

I guess I like psychological horror, and my life already feels like a survival horror game half the time if that counts.

Not sure if this is a horror movie, but I like the Nightmare Before Christmas. Halloween AND Christmas? I’m pretty sure that’s better than prom night but I never got to go to prom so what do I know.

[dawnisdreamlanding]

CHAPTER 2

Ghost x Reader x Konig

Neighbor! and Roommate!au hehe

About me | Masterlist |

Author's note: Happy Hanukkah! I'd like to say THANKS SO MUCH FOR THE SUPPORT FOR THE FIRST PART AAAA!! I've been wanting to write fanfics for agess but I was always too nervous to hahahdsf so all the support means so much to me, especially for it being my first fic. But less talk, more story, I hope you enjoy part 2! <3

‘Why am I meeting so many tall, buff guys today? Well, not that I’m complaining,’ you chuckle inwardly. Konig’s so tall that when he greets you, he bends down slightly. Talk about being short. You mentally shake that thought away before smiling and telling him to follow you to your apartment.

Everything goes smoothly, and he ends up moving into your apartment the following week. It takes him a couple of days and a little head-banging on the door frame due to his height for him to get used to your shared apartment.

It’s been a month since then. You learn he’s from Austria, and he starts to call you ‘Maus’ which was self-explanatory. But you never really learned anything else other than that. So, to recap, both your neighbor and roommate are both silent and secretive. And they’re hot. You quickly shake that thought away. You shouldn’t be thinking about them like that!

Speaking of Simon, you haven’t seen him for a couple of days. You wonder what he’s doing. After a few extra moments of silence, you realized you’ve spaced out from doing your work. Your gaze lands on the long list of emails you’ll be needing to respond to by tonight, followed by the time on your computer on the bottom right of the screen. ‘7.43 pm’. Ugh, this looks like you’ll be staying back late in the office tonight.

It’s already been a few hours since the last of your coworkers said goodbye to you, and the office lights has been turned off except for your section of the office. The darkness surrounding the office was a little unsettling if you were being honest, but you pressed on with answering those emails. Your phone buzzing makes you jump in your seat and the bright screen in contrast to the surroundings makes you squint a little.

Oh, Konig’s calling. You pick up the call and you’d be lying if you said you weren’t relieved to hear someone’s voice after hours of overtime. The line’s a little staticky, but his voice comes through the phone. “Hello, Maus? Where are you?” Konig sounds worried. “Hey Konig!” You try to sound a little upbeat, but your exhaustion comes through nonetheless. “I’m working overtime tonight; I’ll be coming home late.”

Home. You don’t know when you started referring to your apartment as ‘home’, since you’ve always thought your apartment felt so soulless since you moved in. If you think hard about it, the emptiness of your apartment only ever seemed to disappear when Konig’s large frame started to fill in the empty space in your apartment. Despite not knowing much about Konig’s life, the two of you spend quality time together, bonding over shows on Netflix ranging from ‘The Good Place’ to ‘Emily In Paris’. Though you’d have to admit, the more mind-numbing the show is, the more entertaining it is when you hear all Konig’s quips and comments while the two of you watch it. God, you wish you were hanging out at home with Konig now.

“Maus?” Konig calls me once again, snapping me out of my train of thought. “H-huh? Sorry could you repeat that?” I reply. “It’s looks like its about to rain hard tonight, do you need me to bring you home?” his voice gets a little more staticky by the second, and you’re only able to get out a “it’s fine” before the power in the office shuts down.

“Oh hell no,” you say out loud to yourself. You watched enough horror game playthroughs to know that you’re not staying a second longer in office if you want to see another day. Your line gets cut off and you groan. If this isn’t the start of a horror movie.

You managed to exit the office without tripping in the darkness with being little on edge. Little droplets of rain start to fall to the ground, slowly painting the pavement a darker shade of grey with each drop. Your line comes back and you were seconds away from calling Konig to ask him to drive you back home but then a hulking figure leaving the nearby grocery store enters your field of vision.

You are quick to look at this guy because who the hell is he and why is he dressed in all black at night, looking like a robber? Oh my god is he a robber? Oh, it’s your neighbor, Simon. You should really stop bumping into him in such shady situations.

---

Simon ends up driving you back to your apartment complex. This time around, you try to talk to him the car ride there. In between the awkward silences, the two of you managed to bond over some shared bands playing on the radio and you learn that he’s from the military.

“’s not fair that they’re makin you work overtime like this.” Simon grumbles out. “Yeah well, what can I do? Besides, they pay me quite well.” You reply. It was true; the company you worked is quite taxing at times, but the benefits and pay holds you back from quitting.

“Well,” he inhales as he puts his car into park. “If you ever need a lift home, just let me know.” His offer puts a smile on your lips. For someone who you’ve gotten to really know in the span of a 20 minute car ride, he has a heart of gold. “Thanks, I’ll keep it in mind.”

He has the manners to walk you back all the way to your apartment — you ignore the fact he lives literally right next to you — and makes sure you enter your apartment safely before unlocking his own door.

 You sigh and drop your bag onto the floor. Your eyelids feel really dry and the constant urge to get some shut eye makes the tasks of getting ready for bed seem to stretch on for far too long. Part of you debates on sacrificing dinner so you can sleep a little earlier but that’s when you hear Konig call out for you in the kitchen.

“Eat.” He speaks. “I cooked dinner for the both of us, but I didn’t know you were staying in the office.” A slight pang of guilt shoots through you at the thought of Konig waiting alone at the dinner table for you to come home. “Thanks, Konig.” I smile at him. “I’m glad to be home.”

Konig tries to ignore the warmth that creeps up on him during moments like these. His eyes naturally drink in the sight of you sitting across the table, happily munching on the food he’s cooked you. Fuck, maybe being a househusband wouldn’t be so bad, especially if its for you. He quickly shakes off that thought. He kills. He likes to kill. What was he even thinking?

“Emily in Paris?” he suggests when you finish your dinner. You sigh and shake your head. “Sorry, too tired, Ko.” The nickname slips out of your mouth so easily that you don’t notice it, but he does. His body freezes up and his brain short circuits. He’s so focused on the nickname you used for him that he doesn’t even feel sadness when you rejected his suggestion. He hums in acknowledgement.

“Maybe this weekend?” You say and he nods, watching you turn to head into your room. He decides not to tell you he’s leaving for work that weekend. Leaving to kill people. “Next weekend.” He confirms. You smile tiredly at him and the warm yellow light illuminates your features. “Goodnight, Konig.” God, he wishes you could call him Ko again. “Goodnight, Maus.”

Taglist! @gojo-mochi

[stitched-mouth]

TALK TO ME SPOILERS

Just watched Talk To Me, loved it. First horror movie in a while that actually scared me, that being said though it was VERY predictable.

And I don’t think it needs a sequel. Like a sequel would just be telling the exact same story with different characters, not interesting. If they could make a story continuing from Mia’s perspective as a ghost I’d love it though. But that’s a nearly impossible story to write.

Also one specific thing that I loved about this movie is how using the hand and temporarily connecting to spirits is framed like drug use. It’s the new drug teens use at parties and get hooked on and I just kinda loved that connection. Although I do see some people hating it as it is very cringy to see teens using drugs at party in movies but I think it was handed very well here.

And how the end references the beginning with the dying kangaroo. Mia is heavily encouraged to put the kangaroo out of it’s misery but opts not to, and kinda cruelly leaves it dying on the side of the road. But when she is encouraged to put her close friend out of their misery, she goes for it and things end badly for her. I strongly think she did actually try to kill Riley but had no control of her body anymore and when she throw Riley onto the road, she actually threw herself. Not her opting to throw herself after being unable to kill her close friend. She didn’t chicken out this time and it ended badly for her. It makes me think the writers have an issue with putting people and animals out of their misery, especially since Riley survives this and makes a full recovery. It’s like the writers are saying even if someone is on death’s doorstep they can still very much so recover and if you try to or actually put someone out of their misery, karma will get you. I don’t really believe in this message but I like that they had a message in there that explained the dying kangaroo in the beginning.

And I loved the bad ending. I want to see more protagonists end up as ghosts in the end. I don’t know why, it’s just a cool uncommon concept. That being said, I did feel very extremely bad for Mia and kinda wished she had a better ending.

Maybe this is a controversial opinion, but I hated Jade. She turns her back on Mia so quickly and never seemed like a good friend anyway. Also she treats her brother like shit. Like girl he’s 15, if you’re going to do ‘drugs’ in front of him you don’t get to act surprised if he asked to join in. And you can’t physically stop him, like he’s 15 and I know you started doing that shit at his age. Also how she just stood by looking all sad when her boyfriend was being humiliated. No wonder why he hates you touching him. Why did the writers make Jade so unlikeable?

Also Sue, I think she was straight up abusing and neglecting those kids. Mia seemed like she was parenting both Jade and Riley in the beginning of the movie; until she started playing with ghosts and Sue has the audacity to blame Mia. Like she wasn’t the hired babysitter, she is a teenager and your daughter’s best friend why are you leaving her to parent your kids?? And acting like she’s responsible when one gets hurt?? Like Sue can be mad at Mia was partying with her kids when she made it clear she didn’t want a party but she should be mad at all the teens for being irresponsible. Not solely mad at Mia as if it was her job to keep her kids out of trouble.

Wish Max had more screen time, cause his character made NO sense. But I was real sad when he got stabbed. Like he was running to help his daughter, found her in the same way he found his wife when she died and then she stabbed him 😭😭😭😭😭 I almost started crying in the cinema. He also looked a lot like my own Dad, who I have a complicated relationship with, so his and Mia’s relationship felt so similar to me and my Dad and it hurt

I was simping for Hayley for a lot of the movie. And I’m once again questioning my sexuality thanks to them. I’m hoping to see Zoe Terakes in a lot more movies, I’ve heard they are already well known in Australia but this was my first time seeing them so again I hope to see them again. I’m really disappointed the whole movie was ban in Kuwait just because the actor is gender non conforming. We still have transphobia in 2023? Wow.

(Credit to @louxkate for the gif)

edit: just found out I’m not the only one simping for Hayley’s actor, Zoe Terakes, which makes me feel better about not understanding my sexuality.

gonna go see this movie a second time now.

[gremoria411]

In yet another self-sabotaging attempt to not watch Gundam Narrative/Gundam Ibo Urdr Hunt (honestly why do I do this to myself), I have started watching the original Gundam 0079.

(I literally went right over Narrative on the shelf, too).

Until now, I’ve basically done everything except watch the original - I got some very good cliff notes, I read the Origin Manga, I watched the Compilation Movies. But I never actually watched the show.

I’ve only watched the first three-ish episodes so far, so this’ll be a first impressions kinda deal. For reference, I’m watching the Dubbed Blu-Ray Collection (which is where that art above is from). I did try the subtitles, but I find they take up a lot of the screen, and the Japanese Audio quality isn’t fantastic.

Right, enough preamble, how is it?

In brief, dated as all hell.

Obviously, it’s dated as all hell. It was laid down and made in late-70s Japan, a far different environment than contemporary Japan. The Animation’s old and it’s incredibly clear that they were working on a budget with all the still frames. But even from the perspective of someone who came in through the wider Gundam series it’s very odd.

Like, the opening score is some stirring, heroic music about how the Gundam will fight back all its enemies, and how you must fight. Likely meant to juxtapose how war is presented in media versus what the shows actually about - the horrors implicit within war. But it’s still something of a tonal whiplash. And then the closing song is all about Amuro becoming a man, so it still reads a little off.

It’s interesting to note the great variety in characters though - a detail that I’d never seen in any of the adaptations is that Char essentially has a panic attack when he first fights the Gundam, simply because it swats his wingmate down so easily, and he truly realises how powerful it is. A lot of Bright’s early characterisation sells that he really doesn’t know what he’s doing, and Dozle (who they gave a really posh voice, by the way) mentions that Zeon’s also running low on supplies, selling that neither side’s doing so hot in the war.

Another nice detail is that when Amuro steps inside the Gundam, it doesn’t actually help the situation that much - yeah he takes out two Zaku’s, but this directly leads to him damaging Side 7, and injuring his father and the other engineers - the Gundam is a destructive saviour at best. It feels very different from the classic super robot vibes (though that may be speaking to my own unfamiliarity with the genre).

I don’t really have a concluding statement here, it’s just odd coming in from all the other shows and seeing how….. not unrefined…. How broad the series is. I can tell without checking that there’s a host of influences from *somewhere*, but I’m not knowledgeable enough about the genre to pinpoint anything.

(Also I love how catty the Zeon Commanders are. Gadem trading barbs with Char is just delightful, and I’m looking forward to seeing Conscon, since I find his design just sublime).

[warningsine]

Have you ever been enjoying a film or TV series, only to suddenly find yourself squinting at the dark screen? Recent releases including “Euphoria,” “The Batman” and “Handmaid’s Tale,” as well as classic films including “Alien,” “Taxi Driver” and “Seven” all utilize dark imagery, but what if the visuals are simply too dark to see everything in the frame?

While dark scenes are usually due to the filmmaker’s vision, there are several factors both at movie theaters and when viewing at home that will affect the viewer’s ability to see what’s going on onscreen.

Home viewing

For home viewers, one culprit could be the viewing environment, according to digital imaging technician Nicholas Kay. When he goes to visit his parents’ house, he’s aghast at the butchered image quality on their television screen, which Kay believes should be as neutral as possible. As someone who spends countless hours perfecting visuals on- and off-set, he feels personally offended by the settings on his parents’ TV, from motion smoothing to brightness, which Kay said shouldn’t be turned up or down.

“They watch this stuff, and I’m like, ‘Oh my God, you’re killing me, like please, let me help you,’” Kay said. “And then I help them, and they’re like, ‘Oh, what happened?’ I’m like, ‘What do you mean, what happened? This is how you’re supposed to see it!’”

The settings on a TV are just one factor when it comes to how a film is ultimately viewed. Other determinants might be the lighting in the room or the size and quality of the monitor.

Images in movie theaters, which should provide the ultimate viewing experience for cinephiles, can be just as dark as a badly adjusted home screen. Many projectors are not well maintained and even 4K resolution can fall flat.

But ultimately, the reason a movie or series seems super dark is that it’s how the filmmaker intended it to look.

A few years ago, a final battle in the “Game of Thrones” finale was criticized by many viewers for being so dark that it was impossible to see what was going on. Cinematographer Fabian Wagner defended his work at the time, telling Wired, “Everything we wanted people to see is there.” He also pointed out that the scene was shot at night and said the intention was to differentiate the battle aesthetically from other scenes throughout the series. He also stressed that watching the show anywhere other than a darkened room with a neutral, large monitor was a disservice to the viewer.

Mood-setter

Other than the viewing environment, though, Kay, a two-decade industry vet who has worked on movies including “Joker,” “Venom” and “Black Panther,” said there are practical and emotional reasons for dark images. Whether “dark” refers to the moodiness of a piece of media or its literal lack of light, the two often go hand-in-hand.

Matt Reeves’ “The Batman” takes place largely at night, “The Handmaid’s Tale” is set in a gloomy dystopia, and horror movies like the “Fear Street” trilogy rely on the cover of darkness to keep viewers on their toes. Those works and more have all faced criticism for being too shadowy (the West Wind Drive-In in Las Vegas told patrons that they couldn’t get a refund for “The Batman” if they found it too dark) but the alternative might be an unrealistic depiction of the plot.

“I think that a lot of cinematographers, when they do certain things like that, they’re trying to make it feel extremely truthful,” Kay said. “I don’t think the intention is to struggle to see, but there are times where I personally feel like I’m struggling, like, ‘Is it taking me out of it?’ My job really is to calibrate my eye to what the cinematographer wants it to look like.”

Of course, it’s not just newer titles that have viewers straining their eyes. Over the years, films from “Alien” (1979) to the aptly titled “Dark City” (1998), have been presented with extremely dark images. One difference, Kay says, is that those movies were shot on film, while most modern cinema is shot digitally. Even the digital remasters of those classic films might appear much flatter than the original, because 35mm film has two to three times more grains per square inch than 4K has in pixels. That means cinematographers have to get creative when it comes to crafting a unique and “organic” image.

“What they’re fighting is the sharpness and the crispness and the perfection of digital,” Kay said. “That’s what they would all say, and that’s why they want to shoot on film or that’s why they want to use a lot of smoke and filters — to basically take away the perfection.”

‘Euphoria’s’ Special Treatment

One of the most notable deviations from the digital landscape is Sam Levinson’s HBO teen drama “Euphoria.” The show’s second season was shot on 35mm Kodak Ektachrome, which forced Kodak to convert part of its factory to produce the discontinued film stock.

“Euphoria” has become well-known for its unique visuals, and cinematographer Marcell Rév said the stock’s film speed of 100 ISO (the metric for how much light the film picks up) forced them to light the set “like we were lighting a sitcom.” The result is an extremely textured final image that allows Rév to play with light in ways most filmmakers can’t, and he acknowledged that contrast is an important aspect of his vision.

“We were trying to do like velvety deep shadows, but I don’t think they are dark,” Rév said.” You always have very bright reference points in every image. I don’t think there are images where you’re wondering what’s on the image.”

Rév said he doesn’t believe that films are trending darker or lighter in general, but noted one inspiration in the world of film noir: David Fincher — specifically his 1995 film “Seven.”

“It’s a really dark [film],” Rév said. “That revolutionized the way they shot movies in the ‘90s, the way that [cinematographer] Darius Khondji used film stock and how he underexposed film stock and how he lit that movie. It was something so original and unique. It was in the ‘90s and it was way darker than anything I can see now in the cinema.”

In “The Batman,” Reeves and cinematographer Greig Fraser employed a technique similar to Khondji’s, where they printed the digital print of the movie onto film and used a bleach bypass to achieve a more high-contrast image. The technique marries aspects of film and digital, and creates a more textured look than most digitally shot superhero movies would allow.

As a technician who entered the industry as it was transitioning from film to digital, Kay’s job, he said, is often to help directors and cinematographers capture the essence of the films they grew up watching, trying to emulate the look and feel of film without any special treatment from Kodak.

Kay said that ever since digital has taken hold, studios have also gained more control when it comes to the final product. As a result, he said he believes many films are actually brighter than they need to be, with the exception being the works of well-known auteurs and cinematographers who have full control of the resolution and coloring of their movies. He referenced the work of his friend, cinematographer Bradford Young, who has shot films including “Solo: A Star Wars Story” (2018), “Arrival” (2015) and the 2019 mini-series “When They See Us,” which Kay also worked on. Those works all utilize dark imagery, but Kay said that’s entirely on purpose.

“He likes things darker, as an example of people who like to be more honest with the image, and certain scenarios and scenes are dark,” Kay said. “‘When They See Us,’ I know, was dark and smoky, but it was meant to be this organic, visceral experience where these kids are suffering.”

Lighting darker skin tones can also lead to problems for cinematographers, and the industry has only recently begun to acknowledge the inequity faced by Black actors and other people of color on screen. Many of the technologies used for lighting have been historically calibrated for white people, which is why the work of cinematographers like Young and Ava Berkofsky on “Insecure” has contributed so much to the craft.

In terms of his work on “Joker” (2019), photographed by Lawrence Sher, and “Venom” (2018), photographed by Matthew Libatique, Kay said the dark visuals were justified.

“‘Joker’ wasn’t even that dark to me,” Kay said. “It was more dark in theme. I don’t feel like you’re struggling to see it. It’s more like it takes place at night a lot of times or on subways or things like that. You know, the lights are going on and off … It’s all practically motivated.”

Beyond aesthetic or practical motivation, though, sometimes the reason for a scene’s dark lighting is much more mundane. If a movie utilizes special effects makeup or if a shot picks up lighting cables in the background, the darkness provides a great solution for hiding things that filmmakers don’t want the audience to notice. The modern techniques of CGI and VFX editing can fix the issue, but for lower budget projects, the old-school way is often much easier.

“‘Just paint it black’ is literally the answer to everything,” Kay said. “‘Alien’ is a great example of hiding things like prosthetics, all that kind of stuff. Those prosthetics look real, because they’re in a real environment and they’re lit realistically. To light them more, you start to reveal that they’re fake.”

Adjust Your TV

But, regardless of why an image seems dim, Kay has a few tips for making sure you have the best shot at seeing a film the way it was intended. He suggested Googling the make and model of your TV set to learn how to neutralize the settings, adding, “If a window outside is pointing at your screen, you’re fighting an uphill battle.”

When it comes to your local movie theater, keep an eye out for smudged screens or washed-out picture quality, and alert the theater manager. Make a point of patronizing cinemas that prioritize the viewer experience, such as AMC’s Dolby Cinemas or Alamo Drafthouse.

When it comes to lack of control over how someone will watch one of the projects on which he spends months perfecting the imagery, Kay takes the challenges of his work in stride.

“Most people are gonna be watching this on an airplane or an iPhone anyway,” Kay said, “but that doesn’t stop you from trying.”

[puerifungorum]

silly vampire movie concept with my ocs <3

(to clarify. what i mean is that i am jettisoning all the tragic backstories (we do not have the time or budget for those. they can be vaguely implied.) and trashing all my worldbuilding and lore. this is based on vibes and tropes and does not and should not make sense. i'm not assigning characters roles based on translations of what they've actually got going on, i'm assigning characters roles based on what would be fun. we're using as lore what i vaguely assume old-timey vampire movies to have as their lore.)

anyway. setting! this should be vaguely 1800s or vaguely 1930s with perhaps 1950s 1960s 1970s sensibilities? or all at once. but no modern technology! this is the idea of a campy vampire movie as it exists in my head (have not watched many vampire movies) (have watched dracula 1931) (have looked at still photos of other vampire movies). the setting is vaguely eastern european. if parts of it are not in eastern europe they can be in england. various characters can be in flowy white dresses.

you should imagine this in black and white.

Alianora is a vampire hunter! (not an angel in this.) She's very noble and sincere and brave and all that. At like, the very start of the movie or something, her dear friend Anselm dies due to a vampire’s predations! She’s mourning him from then on, but, like, not visibly in a hysterical grief way, in a solemn stoic way. 

If it’s Scarlet who kills him, Alianora can kill Scarlet right after and that’s my explanation as to what Scarlet’s doing in this. get staked idiot.

it might not make sense for scarlet to be the one to kill him based on the idea of like. vampires dying if you kill their sire. whatever i don't care moving on

So Alianora goes on. Vampire-hunting and whatnot. There’s a new vampire she’s hunting, who will turn out to live in a spooky castle! I’m going to say it’s Vianna for now. Helpful local maiden Judith is helpful and framed narratively as the love interest. There’s subtext that Alianora is interested in her as a way of displacing her grief over Anselm dying - trying to replace him with another emotional attachment/bond, attracted to qualities Judith shares with Anselm (personality-wise. They don’t look much alike).

initially it should not be clear whether Vianna is a vampire or just like. a weirdo

Shock and horror! Anselm has joined the legions of the undead! Will Alianora find the fortitude to free him of his curse and save his soul by killing him? Or will she succumb to the awful lure of the vampire herself?

Anselm btw is filled with resentment toward her for letting him die. because what is Anselm if not animated by wrath. He wants to turn her into a vampire as well (she has to stay with him as recompense for his own death) and if she refuses or hesitates he will go into a rage and try to kill her. (he's also mad at her for the romance with judith. he's barely even cold in his grave!! how little is he worth that he can be replaced so quickly! die!!!!!!)

At some point - either when she first finds out he’s become a vampire or right before she slays him - she does catch him waking up from his coffin.

it should not be clear if there's anything romantic going on between them before he dies. after he dies they're definitely acting romantically, but they should only refer to each other pre-death as "dear friend" and similar things - the romantic bit should be ambiguous whether it's based on an actual relationship or typical vampire seduction tactics. they should never kiss during the whole movie. they do get to almost kiss. it has to be weirdly charged when she's trying to kill him

(symbolically like her desire for him can be that he's the manifestation of her guilt and grief and unfulfilled love, but he's only a warped version devoid of the actual person she's missing - etc etc you know the drill. vampires are fun)

Judith meanwhile has her own gay little plotline going on with Vianna. 

It’s a love triangle! Will she choose the dashing vampire hunter who increasingly seems to only be using her as a replacement for a lost love, or the eerie and charismatic vampire who offers her immortality and a share in the Evil Plan (world domination à la Dracula)???

she's initially interested in Alianora because she's tragic and haunted. after some point Judith does realize that maybe "being sad about someone else" isn't really what she wants in a romantic partner. hm. (this bit should be subtextual)

Judith and Vianna also don't ever kiss. sorry Judith. they do get in some lust-filled gazes and they do get to lingeringly touch hands and Judith does get to be sexily menaced.

how are Anselm and Vianna connected? haven't figured that out. anyway

At the end of the movie Alianora kills Anselm and either she kills Vianna with Judith’s help or Judith kills Vianna. And then they have an obligatory romantic moment. (they are allowed to kiss.) This is what tvtropes.org calls an esoteric happy ending i think

i guess the ending could be like "oh nora's vanquished her personal demons of guilt and grief and righted her failing by saving her new love interest... judith's rejecting the lure of selfishness at the cost of other people...." but it should be done in a way where it doesn't FEEL like that's the takeaway. oh ok the leads are now in an unhappy romantic relationship where they're both pining for other people and had to kill the person they actually wanted. what was the point of this, you should come away asking.

more pictures :)

[the-celluloid-correspondent]

Five Nights at Freddy's Movie Review

A troubled security guard begins working at Freddy Fazbear's Pizzeria. While spending his first night on the job, he realizes the late shift at Feddy's won't be so easy to make it through. 

Five Nights at Freddy’s became an international phenomenon when I was in high school. I remember watching countless YouTube Gamers lose their minds while immersed in a basic point-and-click survival horror game. Though the game is basic, it has an immersive atmosphere and lore that is hard to find in even the most AAA games. So for its big screen debut, I was not expecting much other than an atmospheric survival horror like Alien or The Thing but not as good as those masterpieces. Yet, Five Nights at Freddy’s manages to go lower than that. I partially respect it for at least attempting to tell a story, but the story is a crime against filmmaking. 

The story presented is a contrived mess filled with plot holes and horrible internal logic.  We witness numerous storytelling elements get picked up and dropped whenever the writers feel like it and are left asking questions such as “What did they do with the Aunt’s body?” or “Why are they choosing to trash the place in the middle of the day while it is locked, instead of at night to frame him?”. These questions and many more continued to buzz around my head while watching this disaster of a movie. I felt like my intelligence was insulted because of how lazy this story was. Then to cover this lazy story, it shoves in as much fanservice and references it possible can. Hardcore fans will be the only ones to enjoy this stupid film as they will gleefully clap, cheer, and praise at any reference/fan service, no matter how bad the movie is. 

However, one of the most disappointing aspects of Five Nights at Freddy’s is that it’s not even a horror movie. Yes, there are some horror elements, but they are few and far between as they are nothing but cheap jump scares. It does not have any of the creepy ambiance the original game had. Instead, it is cheezy with its ambiance and tone as they are dragged all over the place. I wished it would have stuck to its routes and stayed as a survival horror. This would have allowed the movie to retain a creepy ambiance that is not found here. Also, it should have been rated R because those kills were way too safe. 

With that stated, there were some elements that I enjoyed. For one I appreciate that the possessed animatronics were actually animatronics. Though they did not look as creepy as they were in the game, I still respect bringing them to life practically rather than through cheap CGI. 

Furthermore, Matthew Lillard understood the assignment. Despite being on screen for only a few minutes he gives the only memorable performance. Josh Hutcherson tries his hardest to make this material work but is held back by the horrid dialogue. While Elizabeth Lail gives no effort in her performance as she looks like she is contimplating signing up for this movie. 

Five Nights at Freddy’s feels like it was written by a 10-year-old for a 10-year-old. But the fact it was written by professional writers, is not only an insult to my intelligence, but to the entire audience. This movie is an excellent example of today’s modern filmmaking philosophy of “don’t think, just consume product and get excited for next product.” Listen, I wasn’t expecting a horror masterpiece, but it manages to go lower than that. It’s just a consumer product that believes everyone is stupid.

My Rating: D

[finisnihil]

Godzilla is one of my favorite examples of it (I've been watching Godzilla from the day I was born and that's not an exaggeration it's one of my father's special interests) but it's shocking how many people didn't know about The Point of Godzilla until Minus One came out and hardcore Godzilla fans had to explain. He is a representation of nuclear devestation because nuclear devestation was a cultural fear for the civilians of Japan in the aftermath of WWII. The war is functionally over but not for the innocents who now have to try and rebuild their lives while contending with a force that doesn't care about them and can't be taken down with military might, all while the government is too worried about covering its ass to do anything and the people are trying to unlearn the mindset of death before dishonor. He is a manifestation of a culture’s trauma and after the first movie that began to fade, because it moved to a heroic light as the culture began to move on as well.

When America started producing Godzilla films they started out being pretty loyal to the original with the film Godzilla 2014 but Godzilla is... Different. Godzilla is now being written by American people who did not suffer the effects of the atomic bombs so we connect to Godzilla differently as Godzilla became a representation of nautral disasters, such as Hurricane Katrina, which did devastate the US and as such is one of the cultural fears of the US civilians. The movie still focuses on a horror angle but the horrors changed with the culture making the story.

Then we move back into cool monster fighting movies with Godzilla: King of the Monsters (2019) with all the Titans emphasizing that natural disaster route and a reference to Godzilla's origins with the atomic bomb that involves a Japanese character sacrificing his life to manually detonate one in order to bring back Godzilla. This scene is antithesis to the whole original point of Godzilla but the American studios making the movie don’t have that cultural fear so it was framed in that "it's horrible but necessary" mindset prominent in the US. A few more movies down the line we get Godzilla Minus One which is EXTREMELY loyal to the original and by Toho where that cultural fear of the bombs returns with the Japanese lens of the monster.

The cultural change is of two forms: time period and cultural group. As Japan healed, survivors looked toward hopeful stories and new generations didn't experience that horror, lending to Godzilla being put in increasingly heroic roles as the cultural fear began adjusting as life moved on. The cultural fear also changed as we moved from Japan to the US, a culture traumatized by an entirely different disaster.

There’s so much more to talk about with this topic but like there’s a small example of it lol

I need to be put down i’m getting the Urges again (The temptation to make video essays about random stuff nobody but me probably cares about)

[laurensprentiss]

Cabin In The Woods

[Unsub!Hotch x Reader]

Summary: When a camping trip with your friends goes awry and you find yourself wandering through the Washington woods alone, you meet a stranger who offers to take you in.

Warnings: 18+!!!! MINORS DNI!!! Heavy smut, oral sex (M/F receiving) rough sex, manhandling, unprotected P in V, creampie, face slapping, choking, dirty talk, fingering. Implied violence/murder, MAJOR plot twist at the end.

A/N: Happy All Hallow’s Eve!!!!! 🎃 I would be lying if I said this one shot wasn’t a product of spooky season and that ^^ picture of Hotch, courtesy of Rivka @h0tchner, so Ty for that. (Just picture him in a flannel) Also: reader is SO dumb and has 0 self preservation instincts!!

———

Frustration and anxiety swirl in your stomach at the sight of the same tree you’ve passed four times in the last hour. The autumn leaves crunch under your boots, your gear is making your neck and shoulders ache and with the sun beginning to set, there’s a chill in the air, but unlike the gentle October breeze of weeks past, this chill is biting.

This is why you hate the woods. This is why you hate camping.

You’d made it a point to stick close by your friends all weekend, making sure to keep them in your line of sight or hearing - terrified to be left alone. They’d laughed it off, joking that as a twenty-something, your fear of the woods was irrational, maybe even childish.

But the stories you’d heard growing up of bodies being buried and people walking into the wilderness only to never be heard from again fills you with caution. And if it’s one thing horror movies have taught you, it’s that it’s better to be more cautious than not.

By the time you’d finished crudely peeing behind some bushes, Emily, Morgan and JJ were gone. You’d called out their names, telling them that their ‘joke’ wasn’t funny and that they could come out now, but you were met with eerie silence. You realise now you’ve been going around in one big circle with no frame of reference for how deep in the woods you are, any landmarks or predictably - phone signal. And suddenly you don’t know which is scarier - being all alone in the woods, or not being alone in the woods at all.

The wind howls through the tree branches, the sharpness taking your breath away a little. You stumble up the hill, the ground unsteady with sludgy mud and leaves. All you can see for miles are giant trees and with the sun dipping, you feel like crying with fear, fatigue and exasperation.

Suddenly, the hair on the back of your neck stands up and although an intrepid explorer you are not, human anatomy and survival instincts tell you you’re not alone. Your eyes scan the empty spaces between the tree trunks all around you, your heartbeat thundering.

This is how it ends. Dead in a ditch in the fucking woods.

“You okay, there? You look lost.” A gruff voice says. You jump out of your skin and follow the noise to its source behind you. A tall, broad bearded man in a pair of dark wash jeans and a parka watches you quietly from afar.

He shoulders an axe in one hand which makes you want to crawl into a ball and cry but then you spot the wood tucked into his arm on his shoulder and it makes sense. You breathe a sigh of semi-relief, reaching into your pants for the pocket knife Derek had put into your kit. “Yeah. A little. I’m looking for my friends.”

You note the man doesn’t really make much eye contact, his gaze is averted for the majority of the time he speaks to you. “Where did you see them last?” He asks.

You look around in a futile attempt to gauge your direction of origin. “Honestly, I’ve no idea. I’m not too good with the woods and I’m a little directionally challenged.” You admit.

He begins to walk towards you now and your grip on your knife tightens. “Relax, I’m not going to hurt you. I have a cabin just up the ways there,” He emphasises the shoulder full of wood and tilts his chin to show you the direction of his home. “You can stay there until morning.”

“Oh, no. Thank you.”

He shrugs. “Suit yourself. But it’s getting dark out and I’m pretty sure it’s going to rain.” He says it and quickly drops his gaze.

He’s a man of few words that much you know, but you consider it for a moment. This is a man you don’t know, offering you a place to stay for the night. Every fibre of your body is telling you to stay on high alert and you will - but it’s easier to remain on high alert when you’re safe, warm, fed and preserving energy than it is out in the open.

Maybe you can catch up with Emily and Morgan in the morning, bruise them both and tell them you’re never going camping ever again.

“Would you mind terribly?” You grimace. “I don’t want to put you out.”

He shakes his head. “Of course not. Follow me.” He says, readjusting the rope around the wood and leading the way. The trail seems a little familiar, and the closer you get, you surmise that you must have passed by his cabin at least a few times in the hour you’ve been searching for your friends. You think you may have even passed it yesterday and the day before, but you can’t be sure.

After around three minutes, pellet sized rain begins to fall just like the man had predicted. Despite your outer layers, it soaks you skin deep somehow, making you shiver and fight for breath. Another seven minutes in the pouring rain and you finally clear a small hill and come to a wooden cabin that’s lit dimly from the inside by candles and sconces. It’s a welcome sight with a gable roof and a small porch where rain bounces off it.

The man, who’s name you still don’t know, hasn’t said anything since he told you to follow him, only letting out small grunts of exertion here and there when he readjusts the wood on his shoulder. He walks up the stairs and wipes his boots vigorously on the mat, toeing them off and opening the door for you. You follow his lead, thinking twice about removing the boots in case you need to make a quick getaway but he watches you expectantly and his intense gaze doesn’t leave much room to argue.

You smile politely and thank him, stepping inside, the warm air and homey smell making you shed some of your initial doubt. Your skin prickles with the temperature change as you take in the cabin, the rain only becoming a distant noise in the background now. The man walks across the main living room and into a room in the back, and you soon hear a brief rattling and thudding from him unloading the damp wood and axe.

Peeling off your outer layers is uncomfortable because the material sticks to your skin like it doesn’t want to come off. Still you do, and warm your hands in front of the fireplace, crouching in front of it, the smell of burning wood taking you back to your childhood.

The man clears his voice behind you. “You can take a shower if you like. Hot water and toiletries down the hall.” This time, you catch his gaze lingering on you, scanning down your lower back and resting on your the curve of your ass. His tongue darts out momentarily to wet his lips between his thick beard before he looks away again.

You begin to deny his offer, you’re going to strip off and shower in a strange man’s home in the middle of the woods? But the prospect of spending the night in rain-soaked clothes is more uncomfortable than you can bear. “Thanks.” You whisper, moving your hands away from the fire. His presence is commanding when you brush past him and you outstretch your hand, introducing yourself.

You should at least know his name if you’re going to use his facilities.

He takes your warm hand in his much larger, colder, calloused one. “Aaron.” He mutters roughly. You look up at him and just see a broad chest, look further up, then a little more to find his face looking down at you. He’s tall, very tall and far too broad, his shoulders wide and strong. His brown-almost-hazel eyes bore into yours under the amber light but he’s the first one to break eye contact - again.

He’s attractive. Unsettlingly so.

He clears his throat and lets go of your hand, moving over to the kitchen to start some tea while you shower. You’re still acutely aware that this is a dangerous situation, this is a man you don’t know and you’re in the middle of ass-fuck nowhere, but in a strange way, it makes your stomach turn.

Not in an anxiety-induced sickness way. In an exciting, salacious, adrenaline way. You keep your knife within reach on the small window ledge next to the shower and turn on the faucet, the steam soon rising.

You strip off, peeling away the layers of your clothes that are matted to your skin, letting them fall to the ground. Outside, Aaron comes down the hallway with one of his large shirts and a pair of boxer shorts for you to change into but stops in his tracks at the sight of the door slightly ajar. Your water-slicked, naked body is turned away from and the steam rises next to you as you stretch your neck. His gaze travels down the delicate slope of your shoulder and your back, down the curve of your ass and down the length of your exposed legs.

He remains rooted in place, his heartbeat quickening and his pants tightening, the grip on his clothes, angry. He watches you step into the stream of water and sigh in relief at the warmth, arching your neck to let the water traverse down your body. The tent in his jeans tightens but he forces himself to snap out of his trance and he leaves the clothes on the door handle.

You feel acutely aware of somebody watching you then, your skin erupting in goosebumps. You turn quickly, your eyes darting to the knife a few feet away from you and spot the new clothes in the doorway and the shadow of a very large man travelling down the hallway.

He’s watching you.

Sufficiently refreshed, warmed and clean from the shower, you pull on the t-shirt Aaron had left by the door, the smell of him engulfing you. It’s nice. Manly. A little dangerous. You go sans boxer shorts though, because when you had tried to pull them up, they’d fallen right back down and without a drawstring, wouldn’t be able to stay up. Luckily, the shirt is big enough that it covers your ass and a decent amount of thigh, so you brave it with only a pair of panties underneath.

He stands at the kitchen island steeping two cups of tea and offers you a curt smile when you greet him. You notice your bag missing from where you left it, and sensing your apprehension, he tells you it’s in the guest room. When he looks at you now, his eyes look a little more alert and he holds your gaze for slightly longer this time, eyes dipping to your hard nipples through the T-shirt and the evident lack of his boxer shorts.

It’s a little dizzying how attractive he is. Now that his parka has been removed, he stands tall in a plaid shirt with the sleeves rolled up enough to see his thick forearms and the glint of a watch. You both swallow uncomfortably.

“So. How long have you lived out here?” You ask, walking over to the fireplace.

He doesn’t answer at first, and you think maybe you crossed a line - he doesn’t seem to talk much - maybe he’s one of those people who are intensely private or something. A hermit. “Ten years.” He says gruffly.

Ten years? There’s a surprising lack of photographs or tchotchkes for somebody who’s lived here for ten years.

“Why the woods?” You ask with your back to him.

“Quiet.”

Ah. Quiet. Which you are not. “I see. I’m not really much for the woods.”

“I know.”

Your brows furrow and you turn in confusion to ask what he means by that but you smack against a broad, hard chest and a determined face. When your hands come out to steady yourself on his chest, you try to pull away instantly but he wraps a large hand around each of your wrists and pins you to himself.

You try to push away again, but he’s like drowning in quicksand. The more you try to pull away, the further stuck you get. Your breathing quickens, adrenaline and a spike of fear racing though through your chest when he moves one hand to cup your cheek, his thumb softly rubbing against the skin under your eye.

He’s looking at you now, intently. “You’re beautiful.” He murmurs.

“Thank you.” Your cheeks grow warm. “Were you watching me? In the shower?”

“Can you blame me?” His voice is raspy, thick with lust and despite your better judgement and literally every alarm bell going off in your brain, it makes you damp between the legs. His thumb dips to brush over your upper lip, gently tracing your Cupid’s bow and then your lower lip, dragging it down a little.

He licks his own lips then, and you don’t know whether it’s the adrenaline, the fear, or the fact you haven’t gotten laid in months that makes you reach for his wrist and bring his fingers to your mouth. You open up, letting your tongue lay flat with his fingers on top, swirling it around them, separating them to lick the insides, before you wrap your lips around them and suck.

His fingers are thick and strong, and you suck on them with your eyes closed, imagining something a little bigger and harder in your mouth. It’s only when you hear him curse under his breath that you open your eyes and see his pupils blown in the candlelight, his mouth open, lips wet with saliva.

You release his fingers, placing a kiss on the tip of them like you would with his cock, and slowly bring them down past the t-shirt and over your panties. You both gasp when he makes contact, his cold fingers against your warm pussy making you shiver.

“You’re wet already? Just from sucking my fingers?”

“Yes.” You nod at him innocently, guiding him to rub your pussy. He does, gently, agonisingly, teasingly.

You grind down on his fingers, closing the gap between your legs and effectively trap his hand for some friction, feeling yourself dripping for him. He grabs the back of your head and crushes your lips to his, swallowing your surprised moan with a deep, dizzying kiss. His tongue hungrily collides with yours, leaving a trail of goosebumps down your spine as he kisses you again and again, his lips commanding. He pulls away with your bottom lip still in mouth.

You’re too dizzy to focus on anything other than how good you feel when he roughly yanks your underwear to the side, and rubs over your bare skin now, painfully wet and ready. You moan breathily and his free arm moves from the back of your head to around your waist, making sure you can keep upright as he rubs your clit with skilled fingers, eyes on yours.

“I’ve been waiting for this.” He mutters absent mindedly and you assume he’s talking about since the shower. Maybe before that. “Wanna get my mouth on you, taste you. Feel you shake and come on my face. You want that? Want my tongue on your pussy? Licking and sucking until you can’t breathe?”

Your breath gets stuck in your throat because Jesus, for a man that doesn’t talk much, he has a filthy mouth and it’s making you drip down your thighs. His fingers are unrelenting, rubbing tight little circles on your clit and with every stroke over you, you feel more lightheaded. He helps you ride out your orgasm, telling you to grind down on him and take it, and once the haze clears and your vision returns back to normal, he drags you roughly and throws you on the couch.

He’s on his knees immediately, pulling you down by your ankles so your ass leans off the seat, and spreads you roughly, diving right in. He doesn’t bother teasing, instead choosing to bury his face into your pussy hungrily, like he can’t get close enough. You gasp, back arching off the couch as his beard scratches and tickles the skin on your inner thighs. He licks broad stripes from your ass to your clit, a firm, hot pressure like nobody else has given you.

He wraps his forearms around the crease of your thighs and feasts, literally feasts on your pussy, drinking in everything you’ll give him with small grunts and moans. “Fuck, you taste good, so fucking sweet and soaking wet. All for me? This dripping cunt all for me?”

Your hands tangle in his hair when he draws your clit into his mouth and sucks, his spit lubricating you deliciously and dripping onto the wood floors. “Please. I’m so fucking close. Please don’t stop.”

“Yeah? You gonna come on my mouth like a desperate little slut? Take what I give you? Let me taste you and spread you open?” He sucks his middle finger and slides it into your pussy, withdraws it and repeats, sucking his middle finger this time too, before he slides it inside you. “Come on. Come for me, grind on my face.” He coaxes, pumping his fingers and licking your clit again.

You’re intoxicatingly aroused and the way he looks at you like a man frenzied throws your head for a loop. Your legs close around his head and he lets them, it only pushes him closer to you and he gladly welcomes it, using his lips and tongue to make you come. Your back and ass arch up off the couch and writhe in the air as you ride your orgasm out, white hot sparks of pleasure traversing your spine but he keeps his mouth glued to where you want him most.

He drinks you in until you whimper and push his head away. “Please.” You pant. “It’s too much. Please.”

He grins, slapping your pussy just to see you twitch. “It’s not enough. Not until I tell you you’ve had enough, and I’m nowhere near done with you yet.” He lands little slaps on your pussy again and again until you’re gasping and oversensitive, but fuck if you’re not drowning in ecstasy. “You have such a pretty little pussy.” He mutters.

He pulls you up and turns you so you face the back of the couch, your knees on the seats and he spreads your legs roughly, dragging the t shirt over your head. You hear a zipper and the sound of clothes being discarded and your heart pounds with anticipation. You reach down and wrap your hands around his cock, wanting to feel him, the weight of him in your hands and when you do, the breath leaves your lungs in a whoosh.

He’s heavy, thick, leaking precum and with only one orgasm so far - which in fairness, is more than most men can give you - you don’t know how you’ll be able to take something that big. You stroke the length of him languidly, pulling on his cock and he whispers your name breathily for the first time and your knees go weak.

“You want me inside you?” He rasps. “Want me to slide into this hot, tight little pussy and fuck you until you can’t see straight? Look at you, dripping down your thighs.” He gathers your wetness with his middle and ring finger, and angling your head to the right, slides the fingers into your mouth all the way to your throat and tells you to suck, making you gag. But he doesn’t care.

“Taste good?” You nod. “Feel dirty, tasting yourself on a stranger’s fingers? I think you like it, love being a naughty little whore for men you don’t know.” He roughly takes his fingers out of your mouth and drags them down your slit, rubbing the excess on his cock. With a hand on your lower back, he bends you over, and prods your entrance with the blunt head of his cock, burying himself deep inside you.

The position you’re in allows him deeper than you thought possible for anyone and you gasp at the sting, your nails digging into the back of his couch. “Oh my God, you’re so fucking deep, that’s so deep inside me. Oh my God… so fucking big.”

He grips your hips when you flutter around him, stilling you. “Don’t do that. Not yet. You’re so fucking tight and warm, I think I might blow my load before I really get started.” He grabs handfuls on your ass, hips, leaves the skin stinging and burning when he slaps it, the sound resounding in the room.

“Please.” You whine. “Please, just move. I wanna feel your cock moving inside me, I need it.” He slowly withdraws from inside you, almost all the way before slamming into you again, pulling your hips down hard to meet his thrusts. You’re completely at his mercy as he sets a punishing pace, slamming into you over and over again, hitting you deliciously deep.

“That feel good? That deep enough? Hm? Fuck I love this pussy, so warm and tight and wet, swallowing my cock. Take it, fucking take it.”

You bounce back on his cock too, desperate for more, for anything he’ll give you, drowning in pleasure. He fists his hand in your hair, and pulls your back flush to his still clothed stomach, one hand wrapping tight around your throat, the other pawing roughly at your breasts. He continues fucking up into you, and you whimper, seating yourself on his cock as best as you can with every thrust, drunk with ecstasy. He takes advantage of your open mouth by hooking three fingers into it as he fucks you relentlessly, your pussy enveloping him.

“That’s it. You feel so fucking good taking my cock, squeezing me like that? So hot and wet and so fucking tight, desperate to come.” He unhooks his fingers from your mouth, slapping your face lightly and God if that doesn’t turn you on even more. His hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing to restrict just enough airflow to make you breathless and hot. “Touch yourself.” He demands, his gaze fixated on you. “Rub your clit and make yourself come on my cock, I wanna feel you squeeze me tight. Come on, do it. Rub that sweet little cunt.”

Your heart pounds faster as your orgasm crests, and you bring a shaking hand down between your legs and rub your clit like he tells you. You’re soaking wet and your fingers can feel where he pounds into you. You grab onto his arm that’s wrapped around your chest for balance and rub your clit, chasing the feeling of crackling electricity and pooling warmth in the pit of your stomach.

Your legs turn to jelly when you come, trembling around him and you fumble for something to hold onto, settling for his arms to ride out your orgasm. The restricted air flow makes it more intense, and you come longer and harder than you ever have before, gasping for breath when he finally lets you go.

You grip the edge of the couch, with Aaron’s cock still buried deep inside of you, your pussy pulsing around his cock, releasing more wetness. “Good girl.” He coos, thrusting shallowly a few times before pulling out.

You turn, still on your knees to face him, eye level with his cock, covered in your wetness and his precum. You fumble with the buttons on his shirt, undoing enough so you can just slide it off him, and he’s as broad as he looks. Strong, wide shoulders and a hard chest with a generous smattering of hair across it, leading down to his pelvis.

The desperate desire to run your hands over his skin has you desperately clinging to him as you kiss him, your chests flush against each other and your arms wrap around his shoulders. His tongue massages yours, and you can taste the faintest hint of yourself on him. You sink back down to your knees and stroke his slick cock with both hands, your juices and his mixing and you’re desperate for a taste.

You suck on the tip of him first, sweetly, languidly in no real rush until his hips jerk forward with a curse of your name. “Deeper. Take it deeper, I want you to gag on my cock.”

You stick out your tongue and open your mouth as wide as you can, and wait for him to take the hint. He does quickly, gathering your hair on top of your head and slowly thrusting into your mouth, going deeper with every pass. He pushes your head down while he thrusts in, touching the back of your throat now and you fight back the urge to gag as tears prick your eyes. Spit gathers in your mouth and drips down your chin and onto your tits, so you play with them sweetly, pinching and pulling at your nipples, one hand trailing down between your legs to play with your pussy.

“Fuck yeah, keep doing that. Keep rubbing your clit, love seeing you play with yourself like the desperate fucking whore you are.”

His words send jolts of pleasure to your core and he soon sets a rhythm, brutal thrusts into your mouth as far as you’ll let him, the salty taste of him addictive. You let him use your mouth as you rub your clit to another orgasm, breathing roughly while your mouth is stuffed full of him, shuddering as your body releases for the fourth time. When he pulls away from your mouth, saliva and precum drip down your chin, chest and stomach, but he doesn’t care, taking your mouth in his with a rumble in his chest as he pulls you to your feet by your throat.

He keeps a grip on your throat while he kisses you, a clash of teeth and desperate tongues, leaving you submissive and pliant enough for him to slap your cheek gently a few times.

“Are you my slutty little girl? Are you going to come around my cock again?” You nod with wide eyes. He throws some cushions onto the floor in front of the fireplace and lays you down, spreading your legs roughly, slapping your pussy again which sends you reeling. “This pussy, so fucking wet, throbbing and desperate.” He pulls your lips apart, exposing your pussy to the air. He grins. “Look at that, clenching around nothing, so desperate for me to stuff you full of my cock? Is that you want?”

“Please.” You beg, rubbing your pussy. “Please. I need you to fill me up. Fill me up with your cock and come inside me, I wanna feel it deep in my cunt.”

He emits a sound that sounds almost like a growl, deep and rumbling in his chest, his eyes frenzied. “Good girl, keep using that mouth, you might just get what you want.” He spits on your pussy, a string of saliva trailing down from your pelvis and he catches it with his cock - taps the head of it against your clit making you jump. He sheathes himself inside you without warning, to the hilt. His pelvis and stomach rub deliciously against your clit and the weight of him on top of you is new and heavy in the best way.

You grip his strong arms as they cage your head in, his hips snapping furiously against yours as he fucks you now, spreading your legs wide. Your mouth falls open as he sets another bruising rythm, skin slapping against skin, your body shifting with each hard thrust. Expletives leave his mouth in hushed tones, whispers of praise about how your pussy feels so good gripping his cock and how he loves watching your tits bounce.

He pins your hands above your head with one of his, easily laying you out further exposed to him, while the other wraps around your throat. “That feel good? You like getting choked? Feeling like you can’t breathe while I fuck you senseless and dumb? Huh?” You nod. “Take it. Take that cock like I know you fucking can, such a good little pussy for me.”

You whine as he slams into you repeatedly, his mouth dipping and opening wide to take as much of your breast into his mouth as he can, moaning hungrily around it. He releases it by sucking on your nipple harshly, grazing it with his teeth and you’re completely and utterly immobilised, at his whim for him to use exactly as he pleases.

You can feel him start to throb inside you, your wetness creating obscene noises that echo throughout the room, mixed with breathless moans and pants. “Please.” You choke out. “Please. So fucking close, I wanna feel you. All of you. Please, give it to me.”

He kisses you again, messy, wet, sloppy but hungrily and obsessively, like you’re the air he breathes. His beard grazes your mouth and cheeks but you don’t care, moaning into his mouth with equal fervour, biting and sucking at his soft lips.

“You want me?” You nod. “You want to feel me fucking you, want me close?” He releases your throat and hands, slapping your cheek as he lowers himself down to his elbows, his weight coming down on top of you and it’s the sexiest thing you’ve ever felt in your life. He’s so big and strong and he leaves you utterly breathless, his stomach rubbing against yours, every inch of your sweaty body pressing against his but you want even more.

You wrap your legs around his thighs and take him in deeper, your arms snaking around his shoulders to pull all of him on top of you, to feel him crushing you. You can’t breathe and all five of your senses are invaded by him, all him. This new angle allows his pelvis to rub against your clit with every thrust inwards.

He loses his pace now, his hips faltering as he slams into you, deeper and deeper, his face buried in the crook of your neck, short breaths hot and heavy against your skin.

“You gonna come on my cock? Let me feel it, let me feel you squeeze me tight, make me come too. I want you to make me come so I can press deep inside your cunt and pump you full of come, make you mine.” He rasps.

“Yes. Please, I want to feel you come deep inside me. Give it to me, make me come.”

Your own breathing is shallow now too as you both chase your releases and when you tilt your hips upwards a little, he rubs against that spot inside you that makes you see stars. You dissolve into a puddle of ecstasy against him, nails scratching down his back, desperate for purchase and with a few groans of your name and one hard, deep thrust, he comes too.

He spills deep inside of you, hot come marking your walls and it prolongs your own orgasm to feel him throbbing and twitching inside you, his heart pounding against yours. After a few moments of riding out your orgasms, he pulls himself up so he’s taking his own weight and stares at your fucked out, sweaty face, matted hair and swollen lips.

He kisses you again, softer this time, his tongue massaging yours languidly and it makes your head swim. “Damn.” He mutters.

“Yeah. Damn.” You mirror, dissolving into laughter as the high takes over. You pull him back down to you to kiss him, his beard sticky and glistening with your release, but you don’t care. You can still feel him twitching inside you and you don’t know if you’ve had enough yet.

Still, he pulls out of you and pulls on his boxer shorts, leaving you dazed on the floor. He returns a few moments later with a wet washcloth and a glass of water, which he helps you drink by helping you up and then gingerly cleans you up. You get up, still on shaky legs and pull on your t-shirt, making your way down the hall.

“Where are you going?” He asks.

“Just need to grab something from my bag.” You tell him, stepping into the spare room. You scan the room for the backpack but it’s nowhere to be seen, so you open one of the sliding wardrobes and rummage for your bag. It’s only when your eyes adjust to the inside of the closet that your blood runs ice cold.

Your bag is nowhere to be found but tucked into the corner are three more bags, tainted with blood and a pair of men’s boots. You recognise the zip keyring on one of the bags straight away, a silver love heart with a monogrammed ‘JJ’. The bags are Emily’s, JJ’s and Derek’s - the boots are his too.

Your throat begins to close up as panic rises in your chest and you turn when you feel the presence of someone behind you. Your breathing becomes erratic and your chest tightens, hands going clammy.

“You. You… did you…” You swallow. You can’t even say the words.

“I was hoping you wouldn’t see that.” He says evenly, holding your gaze, but yours falls to the axe in his hand.

“No. No, tell me you didn’t…”

It’s futile.

He grins darkly. “How else was I meant to get you alone?”

———

Tags: @mizzezm @lovelessmotel @smell-my-twisted-shadows @ssahotchie @angelfxllcm @arsonhotchner @anetoupekelly @crazybisexualblog @minixmel @ihaveanxiety71 @art-and-thoughts @torykjamie @apprenticeprentiss

[strangerthingsstuff4]

She's like the wind- Part Six

Okay so i lied when i said this was getting posted last night, i may have fallen asleep. But here it is! i hope you guys like it!

Warning- Swearing, Sexual references, Sexual acts, Underage drinking, references of abuse, smoking.

Dylan slammed her bedroom door, her soaking wet jacket dripping onto the carpet at the force. She was drenched from head to toe, the cold rainy night of Hawkins had not been kind to her. She threw her keys onto her bed in anger, that asshole had stood her up. Billy had promised her he would be there!

They had made plans to meet at the cinema. They were going to see the new nightmare on elm street horror movie. Yet she had stood in front of the Pictures for over an hour waiting for his stupid ass, only leaving when her clothes had absorbed that much water that they felt three times as heavy. She had stomped her way home in the pouring rain, muttering about how she was going to beat the shit out of him for standing her up.

Dylan could still feel the bubbling anger in her stomach as she peeled her clothes off her body. Her skin was freezing to the touch, her waist length hair dripping onto the carpet. She had only agreed to the ‘date’ because he had nagged and nagged her to go and watch it with him. Personally, she thought it was just because he was a pussy and was too scared to see it by himself but part of her had hoped it was because he enjoyed her company, that he wanted to spend time with just the two of them. Clearly she was right about him though, he hadn’t shown so he obviously couldn’t care less about spending time with her, he didn’t even have the courtesy to cancel.

Once in a dry top and shorts, Dylan brushed through her hair and climbed on to her bed. Not even the feeling of being warm and dry could calm her down. She was going to rip that stupid mullet off his fat head.

Resigning to the notion that she wasn’t going to hear off him tonight, Dylan climbed under the covers and lay listening to rain. The water hammering the ground violently was a soothing sound and it did calm her down, but it was only temporary. A panicked tapping on the glass of her window instantly caught her attention. Rolling over her eyes instantly found Billy, crouched on the small roof outside her window.

‘What the fuck?!’ she muttered as she clambered over the mattress and moved to open the window.

The sound of the storm beat her ears when she slid the frame up for him. Billy climbed through, his heavy boots hitting the carpeted floor of her bedroom.

‘Look who finally showed, I think the movie finished about 30 minutes ago…what the hell are you doing out there?!’ she snarled moodily.

Billy looked a lot similar to her about half an hour ago. He was soaked through, his hair stuck to his face, rain droplets running down his nose. His teeth were stained red with what looked like dried blood, his knuckles were bruised and adorned the same red tint. He walked to the bedroom door and locked it, his breathing was ragged. He was panicking.

‘Billy, what’s going on you’re scaring me’

‘She took my fucking car’ he grumbled finally

‘Who?!’ Dylan questioned confused.

‘MAX!’ he yelled while he paced around her bedroom.

‘Neil freaked out when he got home because the little asshole snuck out of the house. I drove around everywhere looking for her only to find her in some fucking house in the middle of nowhere with your freak of a cousin’ he spat, a few stray curls falling in front of his face as he moved manically.

‘Steve?! What was he doing with Max?! where were they?!’

‘In that weird kid Jonathan’s house, all those weird kids were there. Tell me why your cousin was in a random house with a bunch of kids?!’

‘He has a weird relationship with them, why were they in Jonathan’s house?’ Dylan questioned; her voice laced with fear.

‘I don’t know! He freaked out so we had a little scuffle and then Max injected me with some shit that made me pass out, I woke up and my car was gone’ Billy explained as he slumped down to sit on the end of her bed, his head in his hands.

Dylan looked at him confused, trying to process what he had just said. She watched him for a few moments to find any sign that he was drunk or high. She couldn’t see anything past his wet top, half opened, clinging to his tense arms. She took a deep breath and brought herself back to reality.

‘Billy what have you taken?’ she chuckled lightly, unsure of herself.

Billy’s head snapped up and his glare found her.

‘I’m not fucking high!’ he snapped at her

‘Well you’re not making any sense, are you sure you didn’t just have a bad trip?’ Dylan asked softly while moving to sit next to him on the end of her mattress.

‘No! I’m telling you there’s something off with your cradle robber cousin’ he grumbled, fingers finding their way through his wet curls again.

‘What did she inject you with?’

‘I don’t fucking know! There was just this big ass needle lying on the side, by the looks of the place it could’ve been anything, Heroin or coke, have you seen that place?! There’s weird fucking drawings taped to the floors, walls, ceilings. It’s a fucking freakshow… I just remember going all dizzy, Max swung some bat with nails or something at my cock and I blacked out’

Dylan couldn’t help but laugh as he explained how his little sister had nearly neutered him. He scowled at her from the side of his hands, that were still covering his face. He sat up properly and moved his feet out in front of him.

‘I’m glad you’re finding this so funny’

‘I’m sorry it’s just… your sisters so little and she beat the shit out of you’ Dylan continued to giggle at his expense.

‘She could’ve killed me… and she’s not my sister’ he muttered, standing up and beginning to pace again.

‘Alright calm down… let me clean your hands’ she offered and went to walk out of her room.

‘I don’t need my hands cleaning! I need to find my fucking car!’

‘Hey! Being a dick to me won’t make yours bigger! Or get your car back! If I ring around then will you let me clean your hands?’ she snapped back.

Billy huffed and agreed, Dylan scavenged around for her aunts phone book and began dialing numbers. He just wanted his car back and to have all of their heads in a bag. Steve was dead the next time he saw him and as for Max, that little shit bird was going to wish she’d never been born, her and Sinclair both.

Dylan eventually put the phone down and looked over at Billy, disappointment and a small hint of fear written on her face.

‘Fuck!’ he yelled.

‘Where the fuck are they all?!’ Dylan groaned frustrated.

Billy walked the length of her bedroom, his head thrown back. She just wanted to jump on him, he was so fine. Shifting herself where she sat, she felt a small amount of satisfying friction.

‘Look, I’m sure your car is fine okay, Steve drives like an old lady. Besides if he does total it-‘

‘Don’t’ Billy interrupted knowing exactly what she was about to say. A small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

‘We could find you something with a bit more style’ She finished, a laugh forming with her last few words.

Billy felt his mood lift instantly at the sound. Billy stepped forwards and bent forward, grabbing her by the hips he threw Dylan over his shoulder. A small squeal erupted from her mouth as she got a grip on his shirt in panic.

‘You guys got a pool don’t you?’ he asked sarcastically, his back taking her force of her pounds.

‘NO! no please I’m sorry’ she laughed while he took a few step towards he bedroom door.

Billy continued to walk, fear of being thrown into a cold pool in the rain sinking into Dylan as she began wiggling more furiously. Billy’s face had split into a cheeky grin as he walked down the hallway, stopping out side the bathroom door and gently placing her on the floor.

‘You’re such a dick’ she grinned while shoving his arm.

Dylan had sat him on the closed toilet while she dabbed at the cuts on his hands with cotton pads. He winced slightly every now and then and she giggled every time. Billy honestly thought he was addicted to that noise, he could listen to it all day. Once she had finished his hands, she moved to tend to the redness surrounding his eye. She moved her face closer to get a better view of herself dabbing at his skin gently. She didn’t notice how his deep blue eyes immediately locked onto her. Billy could smell the toothpaste on her breath as it washed over his face, he could still smell a hint of the perfume she must’ve worn to meet him. She was perfect, everything from how her damp hair was falling over her shoulders, all the way down to her feet that were crossed as she was knelt in front of him.

Billy didn’t even think about it as he lunged his head forward and connected their lips. Taken completely by surprise it took Dylan a second to realize what he was doing. She moved her mouth in sync with his, nicotine on his breath, she wanted to inhale him. The cotton pad was long forgotten on the floor as Dylan stumbled to her feet, following his body, Billy’s legs making him at least a foot taller than her. Tongues danced with each other and fought for dominance as Billy forced Dylan backwards towards the sink. They fell backwards until she felt the blunt bite of the sink digging into her ass.

Dylan’s hands had found their way up over his damp chest and shoulders, into his tangled curls. She tugged hard, eliciting a growl to emit from deep inside his throat. Billy hooked his paw like hand under her knee and lifted her to sit on edge of the sink. Toothbrushes, soaps and cans of various selfcare products hit the floor while the couple got more heated in their throw of passion. Small moans and groans began to escape their mouths, hands grabbed desperately as items of clothing.

Billy had made sure that she was sat on the very edge of the counter so that he could wedge himself between her legs, feeling himself pressed against her in a way that sent a shiver up his spine. Dylan began fiddling with whatever buttons were left done up on his shirt, yanking it out of his pants to open it wide, revealing his ripped chest and stomach. Her head was fuzzy and just full of him, everything about him. His scent, his touch, his taste.

Their lips only broke apart to allow Dylan’s top to pass between them, leaving her naked from the waist up. Billy didn’t give himself a chance to admire her chest before his lips landing on hers again. Sloppy wet kisses passed between them both, he could feel her nipples hard and pressing beautifully against his chest.

‘Hold on’ he mumbled into her mouth.

Hands sliding under Dylan’s ass cheeks, Billy lifted her up with ease. Her legs locked around his waist tightly and her arms connected around his neck. Dylan’s breasts were pushed flush against his soft skin. She moved her assault of wet kisses to his neck, giving him the chance to watch where he was walking. He maneuvered them both back to her bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him. He dropped her down onto the bed, leaving her bouncing softly against the springs. Billy quickly slipped off his wet unbuttoned shirt and began unbuckling his belt, his eyes never leaving hers.

‘That’s my job’ Dylan objected while she slowly sat forward and swatted his hands away.

Releasing a deep breath he didn’t know he had been holding, Billy let his head fall back and he let her work on removing his belt and un doing his jeans. It was finally about to happen; he was about to have her. For weeks now all he had thought about was what it would feel like to have her wrapped around him, whether that be her mouth or her pussy he didn’t care. He just wanted to be inside of her somehow, to feel a part of her. A small chuckle fell from his lips when Dylan struggled to pull his damp jeans down his thighs.

‘Don’t help it’s fine’ she grinned in a sarcastic tone.

Billy licked his lips and forced his pants to sit just about his knees. He ignored the dull pain that he caused himself and focused on the masterpiece in front of him. Long hair falling over her shoulders, failing at covering her hard nipples, lips swollen, and big green eyes fixed on the bulge in front of her.

‘Oh fuck… I knew you were gonna be packing but Jesus’

Dylan was a little taken back by the piece at eye level with her. The rain had seeped right though to his boxer shorts, accentuating the thick veins that ran over him. Billy bucked his hips a little impatiently as she reached her hand out and grabbed hold of him firmly.

‘Don’t be a fucking tease’ he growled in frustration, looking down at her through his lashes.

‘Now where would the fun be if I wasn’t’ Dylan smirked before gently running her parted lips over the length of him.

He had had enough, he didn’t like being teased, he liked being in charge. He liked being the one that decided when it started and when it finished, and he wanted to start fucking her more than he had ever wanted anything. Billy leant down and gripped her face between his thumb and fingers. Her cheeks slightly squashed, he got nice and close to her, once again feeling her breath run over his face.

‘If you don’t put that cock down your throat in the next 5 seconds I am going to bend you over and fuck you so hard you won’t be getting out of this bed for a week’

Dylan couldn’t help but feel like she had been winded. This was a side of him she had been wanting to see for a long time but even with it in front of her, she still felt as though she wasn’t ready for it. He looked bigger and broader, manlier somehow. He released her face and stood up straight, gaze still locked on her waiting for her to make her decision. She looked back and slowly lowered her head, flicking her tongue out over his head outside of his underwear. She knew exactly what she was doing, teasing him to the point of no return until he explodes and rails her, just like she had imagined.

It didn’t take as long as she had expected to get him to pop. In seconds he had his arm around her waist and was flipping her over onto her stomach, he then proceeded to yank her ass into the air, so she was rested on her knees. Billy yanked her shorts down to lie on her bent legs, he was greeted by her bare and shaved.

‘No underwear? Someone was expecting me’ he moaned at the sight of her pussy, already wet and glistening at him.

‘They tend to get in the way’ Dylan grinned; her face pressed against the sheets.

He spread his fingers wide across her ass cheeks and opened her up a little more. He watched her clench just from his touch. Billy could have come right there. She was too much, even when she wasn’t doing anything. His tongue was demanding a taste of her and he was happy to oblige. Bending down on one knee, Billy softly let his tongue enter her folds just above her clit and let it swipe straight up over her, only stopping when he felt the deep puddle that was her entrance. She was sweeter than he could ever have imagined, as was the gasp that fell from her mouth. He was obsessed with her, she was like an addiction he just needed more and more of her.

Dylan felt him push his tongue back between her and flicks quickly over the tip of her clit. Her eyes had rolled back, and her mouth had dropped wide open the second his mouth had touch her. Her knuckles had turned white from clinging onto the blanket so tightly. Billy continued tasting her, never staying on one rhythm for too long. Her breathing turned to pants as little moans began pouring out of her mouth. Billy struggled to remove his shoes, socks and jeans all while keeping his attack on her body going. He managed to pull it off smoothly and threw all his concentration onto this beautiful body that was completely at his mercy.

Billy wrapped his right arm over her back, keeping her steady while he plunged his tongue straight into her pussy, lapping up all of her juices. His cock was straining against his boxer shorts, begging to be set free. Dylan was mewling on the bed, legs shaking. No matter how much she had imagined what his tongue would feel like, this was ten times better.

‘Oh my god’ she panted, to which Billy smiled with his face still buried into her.

‘Fuck this little pussy tastes so fucking good’ he groaned as he climbed back onto his feet.

Billy climbed back up onto his feet, wiping his mouth on the back of his hand. He was going to be craving this taste for the rest of his life.

Dylan lifted her head and looked over her, wanting to know why he had stopped. She watched him wiggle out of his boxers, his dick springing free, tip shining in the light, wet with pre cum.

He didn’t say anything, didn’t even look at before guided himself into her. Every inch of him sparks a new level of pleasure for both of them, his head rolled back on to his shoulders and her eyes rolled back into her head. Both mouths were wide open, deep sighs of satisfaction filling the silent room.

Dylan’s nails cut into her palms as she tensed, soaking in every second of this feeling. This was what she had wanted since she saw him stomping over to her in that car park.

Billy bottomed out, waist flush against her ass cheeks. He wedged his fingers into the crease between her stomach and her thighs. After soaking in the feeling of being completely wrapped in her, he slowly pulled himself out, all the way to the tip. And slammed himself back in. Dylan yelped at the sudden force but got submerged in the pleasure of him fucking her as he continued to thrust himself into her. He hit every sweet spot imaginable.

A few stray curls fell in front of Billy’s face and bounced along with him. He couldn’t get enough of her, watching her cheeks bounce off him and fall back to him. It was picture worthy, if only he a camera. Dylan’s moans filled his ears like the sweetest music he ever heard.

Dylan flipped her hair over her other shoulder so she could turn her neck to get a better look of this god that was pounding into her. It was as though she could feel him in her stomach, the dull pain was nothing compared to the feeling of clenching around him. Her head was yanked backwards as he twisted his fingers into her hair. Dylan’s back arched as Billy pulled her head up, somehow managing to force himself into her even harder.

‘Fuckkk’ she yelled at the ceiling, determined to keep herself balanced on her arms, despite them shaking.

Pulling her hair even tighter, Billy forced Dylan to kneel up on her knees properly. His hand shot to her breast, holding her body up so he could drill into her. Her head was leant back on her neck but she could barely see him, her eyes watering from the sting of her hair pulling against her scalp. After a few moments he released his grip on her and let her fall flat on the bed, Dylan panted as her body readjusted to new position.

Billy stepped back and pulled her shorts off her legs completely. They were flung across the room and forgotten. It took every ounce of strength she had left in her legs, but Dylan managed to get herself into a standing position. She wanted to show him that she could fuck him just as good as he could fuck her.

‘Sit’ she demanded of him while pointing at the center of her bed.

Billy raised his eyebrow a little but did as he was told, intrigued. He settled himself in the middle of the mattress, head lay against her soft feather pillows and legs outstretched. Dylan couldn’t help but laugh at his cockiness, he had thrown his arms behind his head, waiting for her next move.

She climbed onto the bed in between his legs, looking him straight in the eye Dylan licked a long slow stripe straight up the shaft of his cock. The inhale that escaped his plump rosy lips only encouraged her. Moving up his body she made sure to let her nipple follow the path her tongue had just written. Billy’s head shot up to watch her move so her face was hovering over his own. Dylan let her tongue gently skate over the space between his lips.

‘You’re never gonna forget this pussy Hargrove’ she whispered into his mouth with a small smirk dancing on her lips.

Billy felt as though his was about to roll off his shoulder, he could have been dreaming. When he had met this girl he knew he wanted her in his bed but here, as she turned and straddled him reverse cowgirl, he could have sworn he was in love.

Dylan slowly let herself slide back down onto him, reveling in the moment. She was going to make sure that every time he had some girl sat on him, he was going to be thinking of her. As though it was effortless Dylan began sliding herself up and down on him, the feel of her ass jiggling as she went only made her clench on him.

Billy was a mess, watching her twerk on his cock was something he never knew he needed. Moans and groans poured out of his mouth like liquid, his hands moving to her sides to feel her flesh move as she rode him.

‘You’re so fucking hot’ he growled, pressing his chin further into his chest so he could watch her.

‘Hmm that feel good?’ she moaned back at him, concentrating on his pace.

‘So fucking good… I’ll never forget this pussy’

‘Promise?’

‘I promise’

Billy was weak to her, she was so perfect and he would fold to her every will if she let him belong to that pussy. His moans got progressively louder as he felt that twinge in his stomach. That knot was about to come undone, he couldn’t cum yet. Billy Hargrove had a reputation of making girls cum a number of times before he searched for his own, he couldn’t let her break it.

‘Shit, stop’ he groaned, slightly panicked.

Dylan didn’t listen, she wanted him, every last drop of him. Clenching even tighter around him, she started moving herself over him faster an faster.

‘Fuck baby stop’ he all but yelled at her.

His hips were defying him as they thrust up into her, both of her ass cheeks creating a slapping sounds as they connected his hips. It was too late, Billy shot up into a sitting position in the hope he could get her off of him and save himself from shooting his load. With his hand wrapped around Dylan’s waist, Billy reluctantly pushed himself deep into her and released himself against her cervix. Dylan moaned as he pushed himself deeper into her and held her against his chest. Billy groaned at the sweet sensation of his balls tightening and that sweet release he enjoyed so much. This time was different though, as good as it felt he was disappointed in himself. This was pretty much the girl of his dreams and he hadn’t been able to finish her off before she could finish him.

The couple fell back onto the bed, Dylan on his chest with him still inside her. They lay panting and sweating.

‘Shit… sorry’ he mumbled after a few seconds of silence.

Dylan giggled as she climbed off him and stood up off the bed.

‘I told you, you’ll never forget this pussy’ she winked before exiting the room and walking to the bathroom.

Billy just lay there catching his breath, trying to understand what had just happened. He had fucked her, he had finally fucked her. Sure he would have had it last a lot longer but that was the best sex he had ever had by a mile.

Dylan returned to her room and climbed back onto the bed next to him.

‘Guessing you wanna cuddle or some shit now’ he rolled his eyes at her playfully.

‘I was more thinking we smoke a blunt and go again’ she grinned at him, her face still wearing the glow of sweat.

Billy’s face dropped as he looked at her for a moment, eyes scanning over every feature of her face.

‘Fuck where’ve you been my entire life’ He grinned back at her.

[c-e-d-dreamer]

Happy Oct. 1 and the start of Halloween! Please enjoy this spooky inspired Nessian fic! :) 

It had been an accident. A complete and absolute accident. Cassian had agreed to host a mini Halloween party at his loft apartment. They would order food in, play some drinking games, maybe binge some horror movies. It was going to be fun, and Cassian simply wanted his place to look the part. So he had bought those fake spiderwebs and hung them from the lamps and across the curtains. He bought some fake skulls and plastic pumpkins to set about the living room and kitchen. 

And he simply thought it would be funny to draw a pentagram on the floor. It looked just like in those cheesy Halloween movies, and he knew Azriel would get a kick out of it. He even set some candles around it to really make it look the part, and he couldn't help but put on his best 'spooky' voice as he said some words he'd read in one of Rhys' musty books in his library, some language he'd never heard of but sounded cool. He didn't think anything of it. 

And that's how Cassian ends up with a woman standing in the middle of his apartment. 

Cassian has no idea who she is, but he can’t deny that she is breathtakingly gorgeous. Her golden brown hair is braided up into an intricate crown, a few wisps of hair falling against her temples and framing her face. It brings out the cut lines of her cheekbones. She’s wearing a form fitting dress, the black fabric hugging her curves and arms before it flows into a deep blue at her feet. But Cassian’s eyes get stuck on her eyes, as dark as night as they pierce into Cassian’s own. 

"I am the Goddess of Death, Princess of Decay,” the woman says, her voice seeming to boom and echo in Cassian’s apartment. “Who are you who commands me?"

"How did you get in here?"

The question seems to give the woman pause, and she blinks at Cassian for a few seconds. Cassian watches as her head tilts slightly, her eyebrows pinching. 

"Excuse me?" the woman asks. 

"I mean my front door is locked so I'm just confused how you got in here."

"You summoned me."

"I summoned you…?" 

Cassian takes in where the woman is standing, right in the middle of the pentagram, her too dark eyes, and the way power seems to radiate off her in a way that rumbles in his own bones. Finally, his brain catches on. 

"You're a demon." 

The woman crosses her arms, her weight settling on her left leg. She raises her eyebrows at Cassian, her face cold and unimpressed. It pretty clearly reads ‘no shit.’ 

“I summoned a demon?” 

“Are you asking me?” 

“I summoned a demon,” Cassian mutters, mostly to himself. 

“What are you expecting? Congratulations?” the demon-woman quips. “Look, just tell me what you want.” 

“About that…'' Cassian starts, clearing his throat awkwardly and rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. “I actually didn’t mean to summon you. It was an accident.” 

“Is this a joke?”

“Unfortunately not. But I don’t need anything from you, so I guess you can just go back to wherever it is demons live.” 

“That’s not how it works. I’m tied to you until you banish me.” 

“And how do I do that?” 

“You don’t know how to banish me?” 

“I just told you I summoned you by accident. I’m not even sure how I did that.” 

The demon-woman closes her eyes and lets out a long sigh through her nose like she’s trying to stay calm. Cassian can’t help but wonder what would happen if she doesn’t stay calm. Would she attack him like demons in movies? Are the representations of demons in movies accurate? Would it be rude to ask her? After a moment, the demon-woman takes a deep breath and smooths back her hair before settling her eyes back on Cassian. 

“So, let me get this straight,” the demon-woman says. “You summoned me by accident, you don’t actually have any biddings for me to do, and you don’t know how to banish me.” 

 “Yes,” Cassian replies, chuckling sheepishly. 

“Great,” the demon-woman mutters. “I was summoned by an idiot.” 

“But I can Google it,” Cassian promises. 

It turns out, Google isn’t that helpful when it comes to actual demons. Cassian tries various different searches, but all that he’s able to come up with is a bunch of television and movie references, a Buzzfeed article comparing different celebs to demons, and a weird article about making deals with the devil. Luckily, he is able to find a local witchy shop that’s only three blocks down from his apartment. Unfortunately, they’re closed and don’t open until the next morning, so he and demon-woman are stuck together for the time being. 

He had moved to the sofa when he started his Google deep dive, and the demon-woman had stepped gracefully out of the pentagram to sit on the opposite end. She hasn’t said anything since their initial talk when she appeared, and Cassian can’t help but steal glances her way out of the corner of his eye. She looks like a queen the way she’s perched on the cream colored sofa cushion. 

“So,” Cassian drawls into the silence. “Do demons eat? I can order pizza.” 

The demon-woman turns to him, one eyebrow poised. The look sends a shiver down his spine. He's not entirely sure it's out of fear. 

As it turns out, demons do in fact eat, as Cassian learns. He also learns that this particular demon prefers her pizza topped with veggies and that her name is Nesta. 

“Have you always been a demon?” Cassian asks, taking a bite of his pizza slice. 

“Seriously?”

“You’re the first demon I’ve ever met. You can’t blame me for being curious, sweetheart.” 

Nesta’s eyes snap to his, a scowl pinched across her lips. The expression pulls a smile across Cassian’s own face, which only makes Nesta’s eyes narrow more. Cassian’s fingers itch to reach out and smooth the lines between her eyebrows. The desire is so sudden that Cassian busies himself with grabbing another slice of pizza out of the box to distract himself. 

“First of all, don’t ever call me sweetheart again,” Nesta starts. “And to answer your question, no. I haven’t always been a demon.” 

“Then how did you become a demon?” 

“I made a deal.” 

“Was it worth it?” 

Something passes over Nesta’s face then, like ghostly fingers leaving a haunting trail against her skin. Her spine straightens like steel, and when her eyes meet Cassian’s again, there’s a guardedness to her expression that speaks volumes yet leaves Cassian with even more questions. 

“Most days,” Nesta replies simply. 

~ * * * ~

The witchy shop is decidedly less spooky than Cassian had envisioned, but perhaps that’s just his biases and what movies taught him coming into play. He expects cobwebs and weird animal parts in slimy jars, and maybe a black cat that screeches at him when he steps inside. Instead, there’s an aisle dedicated to herbs and another dedicated to crystals. He squints at the black scrawled writing of the placards declaring what each crystal is for. He supposes it would be a bit too easy if one just said ‘banishing demons.’ 

Nesta sighs loudly from over his shoulder when he picks up a candle to smell. When he glances her way, her arms are crossed and that scowl from before is back plastered across her face. Slowly, he turns back around and sets the candle back down on the shelf. 

“Do you mind?” Nesta quips. 

“Alright, alright,” Cassian acquiesces, keeping his voice down to avoid attention. Another thing he learnt last night was that only he could see and hear Nesta.

He heads for the counter of the shop where a young woman is arranging jewelry in the display case. As he approaches, the woman looks up and offers him a friendly smile. Cassian tries to offer one back, but he’s sure it must look more like a grimace. Once at the counter, Cassian clears his throat, shoving nervous fingers through his tangle of hair. 

“Hello,” Cassian starts awkwardly. “This is probably a weird question, but you wouldn’t happen to know how to banish a demon, would you?” 

“Do you have a demon problem?” the shop worker asks. 

“Something like that.” 

“Well, is the demon powerful?” 

Cassian looks over his shoulder to Nesta, raising a questioning eyebrow at her. In response, she merely smiles. It’s all teeth and the exact opposite of innocent. It stirs something deep in his gut. 

“Very,” Nesta bites out.

Cassian turns back to the shop worker. “Very.” 

“Wait,” the shop worker replies. “The demon, is he here?” 

“She,” Cassian corrects. “And yes.” 

“But how did she get past my wards?” 

Cassian’s gaze follows the shop worker’s own, to the silver trinkets that twist and clink together softly above the shop’s door. He can hear Nesta’s scoff at the suggestion, and he doesn’t need to be looking at her to know that she’s rolling her eyes. 

“It would seem they don’t work,” Cassian offers sheepishly. 

The shop worker gapes for just a moment before she turns on her heel, pushing past the beads hanging over the doorway to the backroom. When she returns, she has a box of crystals that she sets down on the counter, a bundle of herbs labeled ‘sage’ and a folded up piece of paper nestled on top. 

“You’ll need to draw a circle and set these crystals around it,” the shop worker explains. “Make sure you charge the crystals under the full moon and don’t wait. Do it the next day. That’s when they’ll be the most powerful. Burn the sage to cleanse and say this incantation, and you should be free of your demon.” 

“Great,” Cassian exclaims, pulling his wallet out of his back pocket. “I’ll take it.” 

After paying and gathering his items, they head out of the shop. Cassian feels lighter already. They have a plan. Plus, the fall weather today is gorgeous and that always helps to lift his spirits, the cool breeze and canopy of yellow and reds above their heads. It definitely helps that fall and Nesta look amazing together, the golden rays of the sun bouncing off her hair. Cassian can’t help but offer her an easy grin as they walk side by side. 

“See? That was super easy. We’ll have you banished before you know it.” 

“And when’s the next full moon?” Nesta asks dryly. 

Cassian startles slightly at the question. He shifts the weight of the things he just bought to one arm and digs his phone out of his pocket with the other. A quick Google later, and Cassian takes in the date glaring back at him on the small screen with a frown. When he looks back up at Nesta, she’s staring back at him unimpressed, clearly already knowing the answer. With a roll of her eyes and what sounds to Cassian like a muttered ‘idiot,’ she takes off ahead him back toward his apartment. 

It’s going to be a long two and half weeks. 

-- 

And Cassian simps the whole time for those two and a half weeks. And there’s feelings. And Cassian makes a deal of his own to save Nesta’s soul. And they live happily ever after. 

[maeve-writes]

Heroes

Pairing: Stripper!Bucky Barnes x Reader x Stripper!Steve Rogers

Rating: 18+, Minors DNI 

Warnings: Adult situations, alcohol consumption, allusion to mild cheating(??). More to be added later.

Summary: It’s your friend’s birthday and you’re dragged to the Heroes club. You’re not one for that kind of place, but you quickly change your mind after you get to play the damsel in distress for a pair of Brooklyn babes. 

a/n: Unbeta’d, any mistakes are my own and please forgive me. This is the second story I’ve written in a while. Forgive me?

You normally don’t go to these sorts of places but it was your friend’s 30th birthday and it was on her bucket list. Luckily, you weren’t talked into planning any of it, just had to toss in some cash for the fee to get in and the never ending flow of drinks, plus the very special Birthday Girl Dance package.

It took you three years after the second Magic Mike movie came out to watch the first one. The idea of male strippers seemed odd. But, when you really thought about it, so did female strippers. 

Nevertheless, the night ultimately wasn’t about you, it was about your friend and her birthday. You were happy to be there with your friends, enjoying the celebration and drinks, seeing hot guys take off their clothes was a weird added bonus.

Heroes was the club to go if you wanted to see buff dudes bare it all. Tara, the birthday girl, had been raving about it for months. She found videos of it online and shared them in your group chat. That, of course, had your other friends looking for more videos and all of them started to have their favorites.

“Girl, some of them even give private shows,” Sonya, the oldest and who was supposed to be the responsible one of your group, mock-whispered excitedly.

You tried not to roll your eyes as your gang was escorted to the front table near the stage. It was a semicircular booth where small round tables came up from the floor, big enough for drinks, but small and spaced out enough to allow for bodies to move around and in between.

Your host was a slender built guy on the younger side, barely old enough to be allowed in. He had a baby face and a boyish smile, but his muscles were well defined as the club forced him to be shirtless save for the small bow tie around his neck with a spider in the middle, and the tiny pair of shorts that cupped his rear which stayed there by what you guessed was his will or magic. Maybe both.

“Here you are, ladies,” he guided, instructing Tara to take her seat near the middle. “The name’s Peter- uh Spider-Man. I’ll be taking care of you tonight.”

That set off a fit of giggles from your friends which caused a full body flush from your waiter. His embarrassment tugged at your heartstrings. “New at this, Mr. Spider,” you asked.

His flush darkened and he rubbed absently at the back at his neck after he passed out the menus. “It’s Spider-Man,” he corrected you, “but is it that obvious?” You tilted your head and scrunched up your nose, parting your pointer and thumb a small ways apart. He laughed in return, his shoulders relaxing a little. You gave him a wink and a smile before the rest of your friends attacked the poor kid with their drink and food orders.

You felt sorry for the guy, but he seemed to have loosened up a bit since your small, playful banter and your friends ate up his boyish charm. 

While you waited for your turn to order, you looked around the club to find its sleek design, not something you thought a strip club would offer. The walls were painted black, accented by silver framed posters of the dancers. Above each were white neon lights that spelt out their Hero name.

The rest of the booths were like your own, made of soft black cushions, black metal bases which were illuminated underneath by white light. The tables that sprang from the ground were polished silver necks with textured tempered glass tops to keep drink slipping and spilling to a minimum.

Of course, all of the booths surrounded the stage, which was mostly closed off by a thick black curtain, save for the large catwalk that split half of the sitting area in two. It was wide enough to fit three large men comfortably across it, shoulder to shoulder, and from some of the videos your group shared, they had done so before.

When Peter- there was no way you were going to refer to him by his Hero name- got to your order last, you could hear other rowdy groups start to file in. A couple of bachelorette parties, a girl’s 21st birthday, and a Happy Divorce Finalization Day were all joining you. Your friends quickly became friends with everyone in the room, so even if the show sucked, at least all of you could get drunk and have fun.

“Excuse me, ladies,” a voice rang out above you. Cheers burst from the crowd and every light in the room popped out and stayed out until the room fell silent. “Now that I have your attention…” A tall, dark man walked out from the split of the curtains. He wore a wireless microphone over his ear, an eyepatch over his eye which rested just above a self assured smile. Dressed in a fitted pair of leather pants and combat boots, he strode to the center crossroads of the stage and catwalk, “My name is Director Fury. I will be introducing you to your Heroes tonight.” He paused for another round of catcalls. “And hopefully we can save you from the Villains, too.” That drew out louder screams from the crowd.

“Now, what do we do to the bad girls like you,” he paused, looking pointedly to the crowd, “we contain,” he pulled a piece of rope from the back of his pants and tossed it into a group nearby, “detain,” he pulled out cuffs and twirled them around a finger before he threw those out as well, “and entertain.” With that, the bass dropped and the curtain flew open, behind Director Fury were the Heroes (and Villains) in all of their sweat slicked glory. 

Once the Director stepped aside, the seven dancers on stage began their opening routine. Dressed in black vests and tear-away leather pants, the men paraded around the stage and catwalk to the thump of the music, pulling off pieces of their clothing as they went. The women around you went wild, snatching at whatever was tossed their way, fighting playfully for it. While it seemed incredibly silly, Tara was having the time of her life and you absently sipped at your Tequila Sunrise while you scrolled on your phone. 

The dance number finished not two minutes later with a screaming cheer and standing ovation from the rest of the already slightly tipsy crowd. Director Fury came out while the dancers disappeared into the back to get ready, he worked the crowd, mentioning the brides-to-be and promised them a very special wedding gift before the night was over. “But I heard there were a couple of birthdays here,” Fury said, looking between your group and the one behind you. “Now, I’m going to get the young gun back there in a moment, but… a little bird told me that you,” he pointed to your friend, “are a very big fan of our first Hero of the night.” 

Tara squealed and stood up, “Fuck yes, I am. God bless Captain America! ...and dat ass!”

It was obvious that Director Fury was trying to keep his composure, but the corners of his lips twitched like he wanted to join in on the laughter from the crowd. “Well, he is certainly blessed,” he replied, “and ladies, you will be, too, when you see him at full salute.” He winked and started to walk off stage, “Captain? Duty calls…”

Some sort of abomination of the Star Spangled Banner started to play, remixed with drum and bass. You looked up to see what kind of horror show would come from something treasonous as what bled from the speakers around you, you were met with over six feet of muscle covered in a fitted blue suit, fingerless leather gloves on his hands, and a round metal shield on his back painted red, white, and blue. 

The Captain’s background was what looked like a large war ship with painted ski-masked bad guys spread throughout the levels. His stage allowed him ramps and poles to move up and down, which he used freely. He used a mixture of acrobatics and dance to move across the stage, tossing the shield around, “fighting off the bad guys” and losing his clothes in the process. By the end of the song he was left in just the leather gloves and a very tight pair of shorts, much like the ones Peter wore, except the Captains had the same pattern of his shield printed across the backside. 

Tara’s screams knocked you out of your daze and you realized you hadn’t stared down at your phone at all during the Captain’s dance. You watched all five minutes of it and couldn’t tear your eyes away. Heroes wasn’t about getting drunk women horny, they wanted to put on a show, too. You clapped lightly, though it was drowned out by the cheering around you, but unbeknownst to you, it wasn’t unnoticed. 

Fury was out once again and he brought up the first bachelorette of the night. He put her in a chair on the catwalk and gave her a candy-garterbelt. Then he asked her waiter, a guy named “Ant Man”, to remove it with only his tongue, which he happily obliged. 

Peter cut off your view with another drink, one you didn’t order. “On the house,” he said with a lopsided grin and placed the red, white, and blue layered drink next to your nearly empty Sunrise. Before you could ask him who ordered it, the candy garterbelt was being tugged between the bachelorette and her waiter. It ended in a tongue-y kiss and the ladies went wild. 

“Let’s hope her future husband doesn’t mind,” you muttered and turned your attention to your phone once again. Director Fury, thankfully, broke up the awkward scene on stage and began to introduce the next dancers. It was a pair, brothers, apparently, and they worked on the good versus bad troupe. Thor and Loki were opposites in every sense of the word. Thor was a large blond with a commanding presence. He had a bright smile and sun kissed skin that looked great in his red and gold trimmed briefs. But his brother was slender, graceful - almost cat-like, with dark hair and a mischievous grin all wrapped in flawless alabaster skin. They didn’t look like brothers, but they moved around each other like they had been together all of their lives, and knew each other’s moves. 

You only caught half of their story, as you were already halfway done with, what you found out was called the American Glory drink, and half wondered if that was what Captain America tasted like. Fury was up again and had the young lady celebrating her 21st birthday take two shots and lick the salt from Thor and Loki’s still sweaty chests. 

Peter found his way in front of you again and said that someone needed to talk to you about your card being declined. You frowned and excused yourself from your friends to find out what was going on. There shouldn’t have been a problem, you got paid the day before, there was plenty of money in your account.

You were taken to a hall that connected what seemed like offices, the dressing room, and the route to the backstage. “Sorry,” Peter said sheepishly, “they said this was the only way to get you back here. Gotta go.” He waved and jogged back out to the lobby.

Confused, you were about to shout out after him when you felt a tap on your shoulder. When you turned, you faced that wall of American muscle beaming down at you. “Hey there,” he greeted, a smile almost blinding you from its perfection. “Don’t be too mad at the kid, I asked him to get you back here.”

“What,” was all you could get out. He was thankfully dressed, but his muscles were straining against the white tshirt and the gym shorts did not hide the package he carried. Even with all of that, what mesmerized you most was his eyes, sparkling blue and bright with amusement. 

“This next bit requires audience participation and he had someone in mind,” the Captain replied like he explained everything.

“We had someone in mind,” a voice corrected behind the door you two stood near. You tore your eyes away from the blond and eyed the wood barrier suspiciously. 

“Don’t worry,” Captain America laughed, capturing your attention once again, “it’s nothing too dangerous or embarrassing. You just have to sit there, pretend to be tied up, and me and Buck will dance around you.” He put his hands on his hips and tilted his head in thought, “Well, actually, you really will be tied up, but we promise we’ll let you go once we’re done.”

“Or not, if you don’t want us to,” came the voice again, which made the Captain laugh.

You blinked up at him and frowned, “What’s the catch?”

“There’s no catch,” he shook his head. “We might dance on you a little, if you don’t mind, the crowd likes it. But if not, we can work around that.” The thought of Captain America in those tiny shorts grinding on you was a very nice thought.

“‘Sfine,” you shrugged.

He beamed and reached out to squeeze you on the shoulder, his touch lingering and his thumb running along your collarbone. “I’ll let the stage team know.” Reluctantly, he dropped his hand and knocked on the door next to you both, “Five minutes.” When he heard a ‘yeah, got it’, the Captain motioned you to follow him. 

The stage crew took over and the Captain disappeared to get ready. You were told about the chair you’d be sitting in, the rope that would be tied around your chest and if you would be okay with it. There was some hesitation on your part, but ultimately you agreed. They brought you on stage, a winter wonderland of sorts and placed you on a log-like chair. The rope wasn’t tight, but it was obvious you were the damsel in distress. 

“One of you was taken,” Director Fury said from the other side of the curtain in front of you, “by The Winter Soldat. Will she survive? Will she be saved?” All of the lights turn off once again and an industrial heavy beat thrummed through the speakers, rattling your bones. Red stage lights shone down on you when the curtain pulled open and your friends lost their minds.

To your right you saw a figure stalk out of the dark, red light bouncing off a silver metal arm. A mask covered the lower half of his face, but his eyes were trained on you like you were prey. His black muscle shirt clung tightly to his chest, one sleeve missing to show off his arm, and his black tactical pants stretched against his thick thighs. You could feel the shaking of the stage from the stomps of his booted feet.

Eyes wide, you stared at him until he stopped short of your chair on cue with the music. His nostrils flared lightly before he moved again, the music flowing with him. He slung one leg over the side over your chair, straddling you. The metal arm clamped the wooden back rest of the chair and he narrowed his gaze. Lights flash around you, strobing from red to white and back again until they settle on the house lights. 

Soldat began to roll his body with the tempo, blue eyes locked with yours. You could hear the screams behind him as he dancing, but neither of you were paying attention. 

His hips circled until he’s seated on your lap, you’re practically nose to nose. He brought his flesh hand to the side of your face and you could feel it trembling against your skin. With him that close you could hear him mutter in some other language that isn’t English, you’re guessing Russian, but you’re not sure. Either way, you felt crushed by his weight and you liked it. You didn't want him to go. 

But the music changed and the lights started to flash again, red, white, and now blue mixed in. Captain America joined the two of you on stage and Soldat slipped from your lap. Just as Thor and Loki had before, these two moved around each other like they were made from the same mold. 

During the fight, pieces of clothing were tossed aside and at one point you were freed from your bonds. Soldat pulled you up from your chair and up against his chest, your backside pressed so tightly against him you could almost feel his heartbeat. He moved you with him as he continued to fight the Captain.

Until seconds before the song ended and the music swelled, the Captain landed one good blow to Soldat and sandwiched you between them. The Winter Soldier recalibrated and recognized his old friend and you. He pulled the Captain into a big bear hug and then picked you up bridal style, taking you off stage with cheers from the crowd.

Once you’re all off stage, he sat you down with a hearty laugh. “You did a fantastic job, sweetheart,” the Soldier praised, running his metal hand through his chin length brown hair. “Couldn’t have asked for a better dance partner.” Flushed from embarrassment and arousal, you continued to stare at him until you were joined by the Captain. “I told you she’d be great, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, Buck, you know how to pick ‘em,” the blond agreed with a smile.

“Thanks,” you replied breathlessly, finally coming out of your stupor. “That was… fun. I’m just going to go back to my seat now, I guess.”

“Wait,” the one named “Buck” jumped to stop you, “we were wondering if you wanted a private show?” You heard about those from Tara. You knew that they were exclusive and very expensive… and sometimes had happy endings. They seemed to sense your hesitation because they both added in unison as they eyed you up like you were a four course meal, “For free.”

“I never turn down free anything,” you shrugged. The pair turned to look at each other and their smiles turned to wicked grins. You aren’t sure what you got yourself into, but you’re pretty sure you were going to enjoy it.

a/n: Part Two coming soon... with smut!

[alldayangst]

lovebug (Tom Holland)

GIF is from gaybuckybarnes here on Tumblr. You can access my masterlist here. This was written for @worldoftom’s lolbrosgetsicktoochallenge. The prompt I had was: ‘Tom self diagnoses himself as sick. He’s got all the symptoms. He’s speechless, over the edge and just breathless. He never thought he’d get hit by the ‘love-bug’ again’. Inspired by the song Lovebug by Jonas Brothers!

A/N: Y/N is an assistant director on Cherry in this fic. This has a lot of Cherry (the movie) references but most are explained if you haven’t seen the film. Such as, it was filmed in Cleveland and Morocco, directed by Joe and Anthony Russo. Some scenes in this fic borrow from the movie & I’ve linked clips from the film if you’d like to listen/watch along. WC: 4K.

“Yeah, Mum, I’ve just got like the sorest throat at the moment.” Nikki’s picture cuts in and out on a scrambled screen on the South side of London, her husband’s hand periodically reaching out for her, rubbing her shoulder, then leaving the frame almost as quickly as it came in. Even through the low quality, the pixels dashing about his screen, Tom can make out his mother’s brows knitting together and can’t remove the feeling of utter guilt when he sees her grow redder and redder out of anger, concern and confusion for her son. “But I’ve got Harry here with me.” Harry waves from behind his brother, his trusty mug swapped for a Phoenix Coffee Cup in his spare hand, just to get a taste of the States.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He barely drinks coffee on the other side of the pond, and would bet good money that an at home PG Tips would beat America’s swankiest coffee joint any day. But now, he’s betrayed his usual routine and his body’s all out of whack and his throat is hoarse, he’s breathless even at times.

Harry shoots his mum a half smile to comfort her, but he doesn’t know what it's like to be a mother, and his and Tom’s mouth both form an ‘O’ when Nikki begins to type so hard her screen jolts and Tom swears she’s put a dent in it. “You know what? I’m going to give them a piece of my mind, Tom! They’re overworking you!” Nikki looks intensely to find her baby boy in drug-addled eyes and his jungle of curls on his newly shaven head. She guesses it becomes easier when Tom pushes his face halfway into the screen and pleads like the child he’ll always be to her, “Please, please Mum! I can’t have any days off. Under any circumstances, I need to finish this film!”

Tom turns to his younger brother for help. “Tell her, Harry!”

And as little brothers do best, Harry spills the beans as soon as Tom’s phone is in clutch. “Tom’s fallen in love with the first A.D., Y/N.”

Nikki immediately loses her frown, knowing how love can knock Tom off his feet and blow all the wind out of him. Tom’s father, Dom, re-enters the frame to match Nikki’s grin. He never misses an opportunity to tease. “Oo, caught a case of the love bug, have you?”

Harry has to whip the phone around to dodge Tom’s protesting arms reaching for it again. “Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot.” Harry mutters. Tom’s family doesn’t budge any further, knowing how bad Tom was hurt after his last relationship. They weren't sure when the love bug would come back to bite him again. So after they all shared a knowing look, Harry handed Tom his phone back. “I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.”

It all started five weeks ago. Tom, at 24, was beginning to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound.  Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour.

He’d say, perhaps, you were the closest thing to the real deal. The problem was, he didn’t know if you liked him back.

“When life was beginning, I saw -”

“When life was-”

“When life was be-fuck!”

“When life was beginning, I saw you.”

Tom could make a picture book out of the day he first met you. He remembers how your hair looked that day, the speckles of genuinity in your eyes, how your ear-to-ear smile seemed to be a mirror because every time he saw you from then on, he brandished the same beam. He recalls how his eyes went low as he dropped his script to his lap and stared at your lips, so soft and kissable, as you repeated his words back to him: “When life was beginning, I saw you.” Then you chuckled softly as Tom waited patiently for his head and his heart to return to him.

“I’m sorry. I’m dyslexic. I have a bit of trouble reading.”

“It’s cool, I'm the first A.D. That’s what I’m here for.”

You rubbed your hands on the back of your trousers, your mic jostling in your back pocket as you attempted to rid yourself of your nervous, sweaty palms.

“I’m Y/N.” You reached out for a shake only for Tom to cough loudly into his own hand. 

“Fuck! I’m so sorry! That wasn’t me trying to get out of your handshake. I- I-.” Tom looked at his hand for it had failed him for the first time in his life. His hand that had helped him up during handstands, being his crutch through cartwheels and backflips, but had decidedly run out of luck to be on the receiving end of Tom’s monstrous cough impending a handshake with someone his eyes just couldn’t look away from.

You laugh again. Your laugh sounds like melody, Tom muses. Awestruck, he wishes he could play it again, repeat it like a radio hit and never wash himself of the feeling he got when he heard your laugh for the first time.

“It’s all good. I’ll see you around.” You disappear from his trailer, likely on a venture to your own, when Joe and Anthony block his view of you walking away.

Anthony and Joe take on the ghost of you in Tom’s room, “Tom! The man, the myth and the legend!” Joe comes behind him to rub his newly hairless head. “We’re so glad you agreed to do this movie!” 

“Bummed that you’re not coming to the Browns game tonight, though.” Anthony remarks, throwing a football at Joe who sets it in his lap.

“Harry and I, we’re British, mate. We play football with our feet.”

Joe doesn’t know it then, but his next words are the beginning of the end for Tom. He rubs on his football and looks Tom in his eye when he poses, “It’s a shame ‘cause the whole crew’s going. First day of filming celebrations.”

“The whole crew?”

Anthony mumbles an ‘mhm’ as he picks up a framed photo of Tom and RDJ sitting pretty on Tom’s dresser, posing like father and son.

Tom’s usually self assured when he’s on set, but he’s hesitant to say this next improvised line. His voice trails off as he speaks. “Including Y/N?”

“Y/N?” Joe queries, with a smile that’s half scary and half comforting, and the butterflies in Tom’s stomach are begging him not to fuck this up and suddenly every second a word is not spoken feels like hours have passed and he might have ruined things before they’ve even started, gosh he just met you and-

Tom tries to play it cool. “I don’t- they’re cool.” Tom coughs again. “I mean, I don’t really know them but Y/N seems cool I guess.”

Anthony and Joe smile at each other, scrambling to exit. “Whole crew’s going, baby!” Joe beams.

“Please don’t tell Y/N I asked!” Tom shouts before they’re out of earshot.

“Yeah, yeah. Anthony, go long!”

A few hours later, Tom was sitting next to an unamused Harry, you on his left, foam fingers pointing every which way. 

“Are you a big football fan?” Tom asked, imposter syndrome creeping up on him. He had the best seats in the house, but knew not a thing about this sport he’d come down to watch. Meanwhile, crew and crowd alike sat themselves around you guys, cheering leaving throats raw for days to come and a tussle for a foam finger between Joe and Anthony leading to hundreds of sugary popcorn shells scattered on the stadium floor.

“I mean, I wouldn’t ever turn down the option to look at Odell Beckham Jr. Are you?” you replied.

Tom looked over to his brother who sat with his chin in his hand, lips pulled into a thin straight line as his rusty curls were blown about from the wind of brown and orange flags flown from fans behind him. “We could learn to love it.” Tom flashed you a toothy grin, unsure of where to guide the conversation next. He knew for sure that he wanted to keep talking to you, but his ego began putting up a fight, eager to show himself off if you’d have him in any way. Tom sighed. “Truth is, we have no fucking clue what’s going on.” Tom could hear the commentary about a player reaching the end zone, but they were all just words that went into one ear then came straight out of the other.

You giggled. “I have no idea either. We could make up our own rules if you want.”

Tom likes the way you think. He also likes the way you speak. He loves the way you laugh.

“You have a beautiful laugh.” 

You covered your mouth. “Oh, fuck, I hate my laugh!”

“I’d make you laugh a thousand times if I could.”

You pointed to the jumbo screen as Mayfield made a touchdown, unable to stop laughing from sheer nerves as you felt Tom’s hot, burning haze on you. An advert for Cleveland’s Own Phoenix Coffee flashed on the screen as you spoke. “We’ll make our own rules. Every time we see the quarterback pick up the ball, we’ll cheer.”

By the end of the night, Tom is speechless, breathless and over the edge of his chair in faux excitement and anticipation of the quarterback receiving the ball once again. 

“Another coffee?” The service worker asked.

“Yes please!” You and Tom both say in unison, pumped as the quarterback began circling around to collect the ball in open arms.

The footage of the game is cut abruptly as the camera points to a confused, solo Harry; Anthony and Joe are seen at the edge of the frame whispering suggestively and pointing towards Tom, the camera eventually capturing the superstar who looks back up at his own reflection. Poorly green screened hearts flood the screen and the camera pans to include you in the frame too. Tom looks on in horror when he realises what’s going on and how it could be too late, and turns to you.

“I promise I didn’t know this was going on. We don’t have to.” Tom panics. 

You hear him loud and clear, that you don’t have to, but your heart and eleven thousand people are telling you to kiss him otherwise. “Oh well. We should just do it.” you murmur, the bright pink ‘KISSCAM’ logo flashing in and out.

It doesn’t take more than a moment for the gap between you and Tom to close, for your face to get lost behind his, his lips pressing against yours, eyes closed, trusting each other to share your air. This was probably the first thing that night worth cheering for, howls and whistles erupting around you. 

Tom doesn’t understand American football, but he thinks that the best seats in the house could be anywhere next to you.

Harry’s on the phone to his twin brother, Sam, when you and the rest of the crew make it back to the hotel later on. “-Yeah, and Tom spent half the night with the first A.D. cheering and screaming at fuck all.”

The Cleveland Browns lost that night, but Tom remains none the wiser. He stood in the doorway as Harry continued to relay his day to Sam. “Oh, and Tom, Mum said to give her a call, eavesdropper.” He flicks Tom’s reddening nose before closing the door.

A week and a half later, Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. He never has the time anymore to attend ‘real’ football games back home, and he actually understands the game back in Britain. But now, he’s cheered at almost every given opportunity to impress you stupidly, and his chest and voice is suffering as a consequence.

You and Tom walked onto set with your pinkies intertwined, growing closer and closer by the minute, but Tom doesn’t miss how Ciara’s boyfriend visits set every day for her, doesn’t miss how they rub their nose together in this lovey-dovey affection he wishes he could bestow upon you.

The scene wasn’t working.

The crew was beginning to grow restless and Tom silently became more frustrated as the minutes went by and he was unable to get his lines right. He remembers how a week ago, it felt so easy. You were there to correct him when he stumbled upon his lines and you picked him up so effortlessly, a twinkling smile on your face. But then? Then you were different. Your eyes were scrunched up behind the lens of the camera and you were mumbling something to Anthony about how the sun was due to go down in Ohio soon so you needed to hurry along.

“Alright.” you announced. “Take five!”

And Tom was thankful, Ciara perched upon a swing for the scene they were filming, Tom dwindling the rope of the swing under his finger as her boyfriend approached her once again. “Hey dude, are you okay?”

Ciara looked at Tom with the same concern, hands finding home in her boyfriend’s nest of hair. “Yeah, Tom, are you okay?”

Tom coughed into his hand. “Yeah, guys, I’m good.”

“I think you’re coming down with a nasty cough.” Ciara muttered.

“Yeah. It’s you guys. You’re too cute. You make me sick.” Tom laughed humourlessly for a short while, wanting to be that adorable with someone, maybe not anyone, maybe just with you someday. Then Tom shook his head, a bitter feeling in his throat as he yawned. “It’s the Browns game. I was yelling and screaming every time a quarterback got the ball. Of course I’m a little unwell. I’ll be good as new in a few days though.”

Ciara already knew Tom wasn’t playing a man with the healthiest of habits, but she worried that Tom was getting this bad this early. “Maybe you should talk to the first A.D. about reducing shoot days from five to three?”

Tom didn’t like the prospect of seeing you less. “Yeah.” Harry had a clapperboard between his hands, leading Tom’s eyebrows to furrow as his brother yelled something about it being take 13. “Maybe.” 

Harry resumed to a new position in your chair, with you taking Harry’s place right across from Tom, a coffee waiting for him when the scene was over like Harry always did. Ciara’s boyfriend left the frame to watch supportively on the sidelines.

“Lights. Camera. Action!” Anthony called. “Time is money, you guys! Let’s try to get this one right this time.” 

They’d been over this already twelve times today.

“Hey, I’m really happy you’re here.”

Ciara read her line back. “Why’s that?” 

Tom could hear whispers of the crew, the sound guy glaring at them in case they were picked up in the scene, and he knew it had something to do with the fact that he couldn’t for some reason get the next line out all day. And that reason, unbeknownst to everyone, was because Tom couldn’t say something he didn’t mean - feeling like his heart was locked in a cage for which only you had the key. He looked past his co-star, Ciara, and up at you; feeling so close but you were far away, leaving him all day without anything to say. And overcoming his speechlessness and breathlessness, even in just that moment, he ran his hand over the rope to say, “Cause I like you. A lot.”

Ciara and the rest of the crew broke into a wide smile once Tom finally spoke his next line, but the only person Tom was focused on was you, who wasn’t smiling, but mouthing his words back to him.

Ciara breathed, “Shut up.”

And Tom’s sure to look you in the eye when he says, “I really do.”

When the filming for the day is said and done, Tom makes a beeline for you across the greenery. You hand over his coffee to him, “It’s a little cold now, but a warm hand is holding it.”

Tom quirks an eyebrow. “Are you inviting me to hold your hand?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

“You swapped jobs with Harry, I saw.”

“Yeah, well. It’s good he gets to grips with the job now. You know, in case anything changes.” You pulled your phone out of your pocket. “I should probably give you my number. In case anything changes.”

“Oh no, yeah. Your number is?”

“216-XXX-XXX. Speaking of changes, I heard you’re trying to get your days reduced.”

“You were eavesdropping?” Tom looks at your face that bears no trace of guilt. “You’re just like me!” He pulls you close.

“Tom, if what happened today is because you’re working too much, I’m happy to reduce your time.”

“Nah, nah.” Tom sniffles, rubbing his nose on a jacket probably worth more than your life. “I’m just a bit sick, s’all. I’ll be fine.”

Two weeks pass and Tom’s no better. With the Cleveland game nearly a month ago, Tom has nothing to blame and as first A.D., you’re obligated to reduce his hours. Tom’s on the phone with his mother when you approach his trailer. 

“Don’t listen to Harry. I’m not in love. I just like Y/N.”

“A lot. I’ll keep you updated. Bye, Mum.” 

You’re so quick to skip happily back to your trailer that you miss Harry calling out to his brother, he’s his protector now that his mother was countries apart. “Tom?” Harry starts.

Tom mumbles an ‘mhm’, hoping Harry would make it quick as he sees you FaceTiming him. If only his mother could see him like this. He’d get to call her tomorrow and tell her he’d called you for the first time yesterday, he could hardly wait to utter, 'I've finally found the missing part of me’. Harry sighs as the FaceTime ringing is relentless. Tom’s eyebrows threaten to meet in the middle of his face as he clutches onto his phone.

“Tom.” Harry begins. “Y/N is giving up assistant director.”

Tom’s really not sure where Harry gets the source of his information from, but he’s sure this isn’t true. He thinks you’d tell him before his brother if you were leaving the film behind, leaving him behind.

The film is due to move filming to Morocco soon, and Tom’s well aware that not all film crew joins them when production moves abroad, but to Tom, you’re an extension of this movie universe. And Tom refuses to leave the memories of you in this filming cycle. “How’d you know?”

“I’m taking over.” Tom’s screen lights up with the glow of your call, and as bright as it is, as bright as you are, as bright as your smile surely is on the other end of the phone call, Tom’s in his deepest darkest feelings wondering how he fooled himself into thinking romance could go right for him this time. 

He’s going to Morocco. You’re not. You’re funny, smart, promising, beautiful. You’ll find someone good for you, a better pair by the time he’s back.

“That doesn’t mean it won’t work out, man.” Tom sulks in his bed, the light from your constant calls bleeding through his bed sheets. “I just wanted to warn you.” Tom nods, screaming into his pillow. Harry decides that’s his cue to leave, a glimmer of light from outside seeping through the crack of the door as Harry escorts himself. Tom musters all his might and courage to reluctantly answer your phone, the ear-to-ear grin he knows so well greeting him once again.

Suddenly, he forgot how to speak. Hopeless, breathless, couldn’t you see that?

“Tom?” You call out his name a few times before cutting straight to the point. “Do you like me?”

Tom shifts slightly but not enough to show that he’s alarmed. “Huh? Yeah, I like you.”

He sits up, but doesn’t reciprocate the outrageous smile you wear like a heart on your sleeve. Tom’s eyes are sunken, dark circles forming under his eyes where he and his disturbed character become one. You suddenly remember why you shouldn’t have run away so fast, perhaps Tom was overworking himself. He continues, “But I’m an emotionally unavailable hopeless romantic. So I wouldn’t waste your time on me.”

Tom can’t help the hurt in his heart when he sees your smile drop so suddenly, knowing it was earnest. “Tom, what are you saying?”

“I’m saying, life is unfair. And I’m gonna quit while I’m ahead. We wouldn’t work out. And I like our friendship now. We should stay that way.”

You’re not convincing when you nod rapidly, not letting Tom see your face as you play with your fingers to avoid his gaze. “Yeah, I agree.” You’re much less convincing when the last frame Tom caught of you was a shot of tears dripping down your face, as three rings followed you. Tom’s screen went black in your absence, and Tom falls asleep with eyes even redder from crying, and he wonders when he’s gonna shake this sickness.

It’d been a few days since Tom had got his shots to allow him to go to Morocco. He sat opposite the doctor on set, a coffee cup placed on the desk between him.

Tom reckons that's why he’s sick. Shots always have their side effects, and he’d taken multiple shots in one day. And now, he specifically asked for you to hold his hand during the process, Harry branded in a glinting jaw-drop, only for you to leave directly after. 

“I’m speechless, constantly feeling over the edge, breathless.” Tom explains his symptoms to the doctor. “At first I thought it was because of that stupid football game, then all the coffee I’m drinking, now I don’t know if it’s the shots. I feel like shit, doc.”

“I know exactly what you’re dealing with.”

“What?”

“Lovebug.”

Tom stares at the doctor in utter bewilderment. “You figured that out based on my symptoms?”

“I figured that out based on the puppy dog eyes you gave for your first A.D. when they left without a word.” The doctor begins to laugh softly, but Tom is unamused. How is he supposed to shake this illness after completely ruining your relationship? How is he supposed to mend your bond after talking so recklessly, so emotionally? “Tom, I’m not here to be a fairy godmother, I’m being strictly medical. At a certain point, what you feel in your mind affects your body. So I prescribe that you talk to Y/N and say everything you need to say.”

And while that seemed easy enough, Tom’s ego was at work again, and Tom was feeling far too bruised and wounded to speak to you first. Surely if you cared enough, if you liked him back, if you were willing to be distanced, you would reach out first.

It seems Tom’s pride had forgotten that you already did.

“I heard that this is the exact shit that happened in Cleveland, and he couldn’t get the line out.” Tom hears the whisperings from behind the camera, the amount of familiar faces in the crew dwindling after the change in location. He doesn’t respond. He waits for someone to take five. And when no one throws him a bone, he asks Harry to.

“Alright, everyone take five.”

“Someone get this kid a fucking coffee, he’s always on edge.” Joe instructs.

“And you think giving a kid in twenties coffee is taking him off edge?” Anthony chuckles.

Tom doesn’t care whether or not he gets the coffee, rocking side to side. He’s got all the motion for this role, but he feels nothing. All he felt was for you.

“Here.” Harry sets a Moroccan mint tea down next to Tom, hoping it would calm him down. When Tom takes a few sips, the look in his eyes is less pleading, and everyone’s ready to rumble, this being the last scene of the day.

Harry feeds Tom the line. “Baby, are you seeing bad things?” Tom is seeing bad things. A life without love, a life without you. Unable to contain it all, Tom turns his frustration into laughter. “Why are you calling me baby for, man?” Tom has this ear-to-ear grin but even he feels it's not as innocent, as genuine as yours. He never knew a smile so wide could be so full of pain.

“I have an idea.” Harry saunters off to collect his phone. “Don’t stop rolling the cameras.”

When Harry comes back, there’s sounds of shifting erupting from his phone. “Hi, Tom.” 

Tom didn’t know it would be so bittersweet to hear your voice again. He wasn’t sure if he should put walls up again or if twice was the charm. Even if you worked out in the short term, whose to say Tom wouldn’t get hurt again? And Tom wouldn’t want to hurt you.

“Are they taking good care of you out there? I don’t think I took good care of you.” Tom doesn’t say anything on the other side of the line, so you continue. “I’m not a good A.D. if you’re always sick and tired, and I didn’t want to see you any less, which was selfish of me, so I didn’t change your schedule.” You sigh as you admit why you left. “When you asked, though, I swear I was gonna do it, but then I heard you liked me, and I got carried away. I had to remove myself from the situation to do what’s best for you. Do you understand me? I did it for you.”

“I, uh, I got a diagnosis.” Tom stumbles.

“Oh my gosh, are you seriously sick?”

“I’m speechless. Over the edge, breathless.” Tom laughed dryly, finally feeling like he can choose an ending.

“What did they say it was?”

“Lovebug.” Harry smiles softly at his brother.

Your laugh is like nectar entering Tom’s ear.

“I might just love you way too much, Y/N.”

“Are you sure you’re doin’ okay?” Tom tries his best not to sound dejected that you didn’t say it back, knowing he’s already felt the brunt of this heartache already.

“I just miss you, that’s all.”

“I miss you too. I love you.” Joe stops recording, and Harry lowly whispers ‘take.fucking.five.’ as he and the crew creep away from Tom’s new found love scene. 

“Anthony, can I borrow your phone?” Harry begins to type Nikki’s number as soon as Anthony gives over the phone. “Mum, Tom just told the first A.D. he’s in love with them so guess who’s out of a job?”

Tom knows why he’s sick. He used to feel like love was trudging up a high hill he couldn’t come down from, where every beat of heart was feeling like an ache on an open wound. Tom had yet to meet a lover to prove distance makes the heart grow fonder, finding himself in six month long entanglements and illusions of love before things inevitably went sour. But now, Tom has found you.

[waka-chan-out]

i just saw the ask about too many characters getting written as doms and ive seen so many people headcanon tendou as a mean/sadistic/kinky dom so i have to ask, what, if any, are your thoughts on a soft and loving tendou

this is the conversation i want to have !!

the fandom in general is pretty disrespectful to tendou. he’s framed as a freak in the karasuno match, which, in context, isn’t necessarily a bad thing. tendou was bullied for being a “monster.” he’s embracing that and using it to his advantage. to the opposing team, he’s terrifying. that’s his best asset and one he utilizes happily. satori did not give us that performance just for us to start being weird and bullying him again.

so here are some of my thoughts:

these are a combination of sfw and nsfw

- tendou is the most fun to hang out with. he’s definitely one of the funniest people you’ll ever meet, but he’s also so respectful and such a good listener. the conversations are always perfectly natural and entertaining, and easily move from fun topics to deeper ones. whatever feels right.

- the go to man for an at-home movie date. has an alarming amount of pillow and blankets (definitely splurges on giant stuffed animals for no reason other than “why not? i have room.”) he also always makes it fun. it never gets old. one day you watch in a pillow fort, another you try to guess every death and twist in a bad horror movie. sometimes you have ushijima over and he just silently and happily sits between you two as you talk to (and yell at) the screen. arranges full day movie marathons. you find one movie that both of you are obsessed with and watch it so many times together that you can quote entire scenes back and forth. it’s like a fun party trick.

- the kind of person to look down at you in the middle of sex, see how pretty you look, smile for a second, and then lean down and kiss your forehead. he’s just so excited to be there, especially with you, that he can’t help but be a little sappy.

- knows seemingly every song lyric and movie quote ever. you’ll literally be riding him and he’ll start talking or singing along just to make you laugh. let’s you bury your face in his shoulder while you tell him to shut up but he just keeps on going and kisses you all over your face and neck as he does.

- tendou doesn’t care even remotely about his own pleasure. his greatest joy in life is watching your eyes shut, moans falling from your lips as he fucks you, completely wrapping his arms around you. he wipes away tears and runs his hands through your hair and whispers praise to you and is almost shocked when he comes because he’s so wrapped up in you.

- really quiet, really soft, middle of the night sex. i feel like he has a hard time sleeping through the night so at like three in the morning you feel him shifting around next to you. he ends up cuddling close, which turns to gentle fondling, which turns into slow, deep thrusts, where both of you are skating right on the edge of sleep. you don’t talk, you don’t even move too much. you just listen to the sounds of each other’s breathing, light pants and the occasional gasp breaking the silence.

- he believes in a bare minimum clothing household. he walks around in only sweatpants or boxers or shorts, and loves when you just walk around in underwear and a big t shirt. not only does he like having what he lovingly refers to as “easy access,” he just absolutely loves your body. he loves seeing it and touching it and kissing it no matter what. if he walks into the living room and you’re wearing any more than that, he’ll pout and try a million goofy ways to get you out of your clothes.

- RAINY DAY SEX. on really stormy days, especially when it thunderstorms, he throws all the windows open and plays music and makes a day of it. you make cozy food and cuddle up with a thousand blankets on the couch or in bed. you joke around and laugh and watch movies, but occasionally he’ll end up laughing on top of you and it turns into more, with him letting out breathy groans while your legs are wrapped around his waist. these are also the days when one kiss will turn into two, then three, then you’re listening to the rumbling thunder and pounding rain as you kiss, making out messily and lazily like teenagers, trying to absorb every inch of each other. those are his favorite days. if you want to get married he definitely proposes to you on one of these days.

[bloodstained-ballgowns]

Things I Loved About Black Widow (2021).

*Spoilers*

Yes it’s been almost two weeks since release. Yes I’ve seen it almost three times now. Yes, all my thoughts are still a jumble. Somewhat ordering them for this post will be difficult.

Honestly, the entire first 53 minutes of this movie is perfect to me. Everything about it. The dialogue, the action, the way it’s able to convey so much without words, how it’s just Natasha, Yelena and Mason, everything is just *chef’s kiss*. (This isn’t to say the remaining 1hr 21mins is bad, it’s just not as perfect as the first act imo)

I have a thing for scores and god bless Lorne Balfe he really understood the assignment on this one. If you haven’t already, take a few minutes to listen to his composition, specifically ‘Natasha’s Lullaby’. I love when you can hear a story in music and I think this score does that really effectively.

Nat speaking Russian! Nat speaking Russian! The way she reverts back to it in the opening scene when she’s scared! I wish we’d gotten more of it honestly, especially in the family dinner scene, even something as simple as ‘pass the salt’.

Also, her Russian accent in the Budapest flashback! It was quiet but definitely there, and it showed that her American one was something she had to train herself back into once she defected, which I appreciated.

“I stashed that like five years ago” Is this a canon hint that Nat hoards her food? Maybe?! I’ll take what I can get to satisfy my headcanons thanks.

Natasha and Yelena’s fight sequence in the apartment is the best fight scene in the movie. No arguments.

So much of my inner monolgue while watching was just ‘imsogayimsogayimsogay”. That much leather and that many piercings??! The BRAIDS?? This movie is for the wlws.

Mason you absolute icon I love how much you care about Natasha I love that you’re sleeping everywhere because same. (You deserved better than to be a Taskmaster misdirect). Please turn up in more MCU properties as Yelena’s contact or something.

“But you’re not a mouse, Melina. You were just born in a cage, but that’s not your fault.” THIS LINE!!!

AND THIS ONE. “You took my childhood, you took my choices and tried to break me. But you’re never gonna do that to anybody ever again.” The emphasis on choice vs children, how it’s always been about bodily autonomy instead of the romanticised horror of sterilisation that Whedon went with. 

“I never let myself be alone long enough to think about it.” I GASPED.

HONOURABLE MENTION: “You didn’t work in the shadows, you hid in the dark,” (or something). There’s something really satisfying about that line. 

Everything about this film is so inherently female, I love it when things don’t reek of testosterone.

I’ve heard some critics say this movie felt really ‘isolated’ and ‘disconnected’ from the rest of the MCU because of the time jump and how many new characters there were and I have to hard disagree there. The appearance of Secretary Ross, name-dropping Tony Stark, and the continued references to the Avengers were not only realistic but also really cemented this oneshot in-universe for me. 

*cue me flapping my hands and opening another draft because every separate point is eliciting another two paragraphs of analysis that I absolutely cannot include on this post or it will never end*. Man I love this movie. See the read-more because this is getting longgg.

Similarly, how it actually carries through on a lot of previous set up, mostly from Avengers 1, like with ‘Dreykov’s daughter’ and “thank you for your co-operation”. I got very nervous when they announced they were going to tackle Budapest because a) I didn’t think anything they came up with would ever live up to the hype people gave that line so it would only end in disappointment and b) I’ve never particularly cared, to be honest. (it was a throwaway line in Avengers 1 that was repeated for nostalgia in Endgame in a context that now makes no sense, forgive me for being indifferent) but I actually loved how it tied everything together.

The way it reclaims her from every male creator that’s handled her (fuck the Russos and M&M) while simultaneously keeping the best of what they managed to foster (again, Avengers 1 is a heavy influence, and rightly so, but it gives a fat middle finger to AOU, also rightly so).

How competent Nat was shown to be without being unbeatable. She fully got her ass handed to her a couple of times, and yes, it’s very unrealistic that she was able to go through two car accidents, fall off that bridge, out of that window and then out of the sky without being seriously injured, but we finally got to see the physical manifestations of some of that pain! She was holding her ribs when she got out of the water, the bruises on her back, the dislocated shoulder, and the blood splatters were actual splatters when she broke her nose rather than delicate dabs.

This might be an unpopular one, because I know this was what a lot of people were expecting more of, but I was glad Natasha’s youth in the Red Room was confined to the opening credits. The aftermath of that training and Natasha as a product of it has always been more fascinating to me than the actual event.

As an older sister myself, the dynamic between Natasha and Yelena really struck home for me. Yelena’s pride in Nat and need for approval and validation from Natasha in conflict with realising Nat’s flaws, wrestling with her disappointment, seeing how human Nat is, were perfectly portrayed by Florence Pugh. I could completely relate to Nat, who, despite trying to convince herself otherwise, couldn’t fight her fierce protective instinct and specific brand of unconditional love that only an older sister will ever feel. 

A diverse set of Widows!

I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of comics references in this movie. The frame where she jumped through the fire from the Waid/Samnee run, the pheromonal lock.

Now I have my problems with Scarlett Johansson, but I came out of this movie with a lot of respect and a little bit of pride in her. It’s clear that she put her everything into this movie, both as an actor and executive producer. She obviously cares immensely about Nat and how she’s portrayed, and it’s clear from interviews that the things she loves and finds fascinating about Nat are the same as the fans. (I also feel a little bit sorry for the way she’s getting brushed over in the coverage in favour of a new and shiny Florence Pugh, so this is me expressing some ScarJo-as-Natasha appreciation).

A big question I had going in was, ‘Natasha’s always reflecting the people around her, but what’s she like when she’s alone, and has only her own mind for company?’ and this movie really answered that for me. Seeing her out of her suit and wearing clothes that were for her, not for a cover or a mission, seeing her drink beer and eat ice cream and let her hair dry while watching a Bond film she’s obviously seen many times before, it was all perfect. The scenes in the caravan were a huge step for humanising women in action movies. 

I’ll probably be adding to this post a lot because this movie will not leave my mind and new things are occurring to me at the most random points. 

See my ‘Things I...didn’t like as much about Black Widow’ post here.

[feelingofcontent]

DNP Rewatch: Why I Went To Hospital

Date video was published: 11/15/2018 (X)

DNP Main Channel Rewatch: 383

Scary title there, Phil. Although, both DNP had posted on social media (1, 2, 3) when this was actually happening earlier in November (which was surprising!). Phil posted a story right after he filmed this too.

0:00 - this is still one my favorite Phil jumpers. also, his quiff is very high in this

0:13 - it’s good that he says he’s find up front

0:27 - he had been using that editing effect a lot in recent videos

0:42 - the “caveman” examples are a fun way to frame the context

1:03 - that sounds so unpleasant to deal with; I hate having a headache

1:16 - Phil laughing at his own morbidity...but yeah, sometimes I have that attitude about health things which is maybe not the best

1:38 - I hope Dan let him have the heat up!

1:53 - Phil is very descriptive about things and I love it

2:12 - Chris Hemsworth and dogs in his dreams...of course

2:28 - 5am does not seem like the middle of the night to me, but they way DNP’s sleep schedule seems to be, it is for them

2:32 - important emoji pajamas detail there

2:42 - I feel like you can suddenly see him realize he needs to be careful with the house layout description here

2:58 - editing skills coming in handy here, although this actually happening must have been so scary

3:14 - poor Phil...freaking out is definitely an appropriate reaction to that

3:23 - Phil linked to PJ’s video in the description too

3:38 - oh Phil 🙁 I feel that though...I would just want to handle it myself too if I thought I could

3:48 - he’s lucky he didn’t hit his head on anything in the bathroom, yikes

3:56 - priorities, Phil 😂

4:05 - did they take this picture for this video specifically, or did they just have it

4:19 - eventually willing to at least get Dan to help

4:22 - the flop backwards here is great; king of comedy Phil

4:28 - “I think he’s a really heavy sleeper” sure, right. also his imitation of Dan’s “wot” 😂

4:38 - yeah I imagine that would immediately make Dan panic too

4:40 - giving us all the details 👀

4:42 - god Phil is a great storyteller

5:00 - Phil’s delivery of “was toast” here always makes me laugh out loud...but yeah, maybe not the best idea at the time

5:33 - I’m glad he did go get it checked out...headaches that last a long time scare me

5:52 - I want to know if she did ever get someone who said “yes” to that

6:03 - “accidental dab” 😂

6:12 - sometimes want to move to the UK just for the ability to actually get healthcare like scans that are needed without waiting for an insurance company to approve it

6:40 - yeah, waiting would be the worst bit

7:00 - this could not have helped Phil’s anxiety about it

7:35 - they do seem to have wanted to check thoroughly which is good

7:41 - don’t blame him for not wanting that

7:48 - aww, sweet 🥺

8:14 - “thankfully not at the same time” 😂

8:20 - that’s a very common type of test

8:55 - that sounds the opposite of relaxing

9:00 - I can feel the awkward through the screen

9:19 - Phil is definitely a fidgety person

9:40 - awww, polite Phil not wanting to be any trouble

10:04 - haha at the reference back to that video from 2014

10:11 - it is so weird...I think I would have some disconnect of it actually being me

10:25 - yeah the eyes are a bit disturbing

10:30 - “oooo...so squishy” sure

10:49 - the fast cuts between every thought that he just keeps saying is great

10:59 - I think Phil has watched a few too many horror movies...

11:37 - that was around Phil’s birthday in 2010. he talked about it in Worst Birthday EVER!!

12:04 - of course his imitation of his body’s “voice” is very northern

12:22 - I really hope he’s gotten better and not overworking so much

12:49 - he tweeted about that too

13:19 - I love encouraging Phil 🥺

Phil had definitely been getting more open on YouTube throughout 2018 and this is kind of the culmination of that. And it’s great, because I think Phil is really good at talking about honest, or even scary, topics while still being entertaining and making those in his audience who might be dealing with something similar feel not alone. All to say, the “hospital” videos from Phil are actually some of my favorites.