#but it sucks when studios that are 'good' just go for a polished look. perfect hair but with some red lines

[ppersonna]

the landlord - myg | m

↳ summary- your air conditioner breaks right at the height of a recordbreaking heat wave.  good thing your hot landlord, yoongi, knows how to attend to any needs you may have.

↳ rating- explicit / 18+

↳ word count- 4.3k

↳ pairing- yoongi x reader

↳ genre- smut, light crack, PWP

↳ warnings- basically the plot of a porn, theres no plot, the plot doesn’t make sense, seduction, oral sex (m/f receiving), penetrative sex, dirty talk, fun laughing giggly time during sex, honestly yoongi is great and i love him, maybe exhibitionism if u squint ???, cum sharing, finger sucking, motorboating

↳ a/n- did i just write basically the plotline of a bad porno? yes.  did i love it? also yes.  this was lowkey inspired by my own landlord coming over to my place (that i DIDNT SLEEP WITH) and i answered the door in a state of undress :/ i hate myself lol.  anywwayyss! enjoy yoongi the landlord!  pls feel free to interact with me because i need constant attention uwu

The inside of your apartment feels hotter than the blazing sun outside.  Your air conditioner chose the worst week to fritz on you. A record-breaking heat wave.

Nothing helps.  You open windows, blow fans, sit in front of your fridge, take cold showers. All just momentary bliss that ends too soon.

It finally breaks you and you muster up the courage to text your landlord, Yoongi.  

You inhale a deep breath as you click on the name. Min Yoongi, landlord.  Your eyes flutter shut for a moment without realizing.

Your landlord who lives in the same building as you is likely the hottest and most attractive man you’ve ever met. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t have a crush on the man. Every month, paying rent was torture. You wanted to fling your legs open to him and request he takes his payment another way.

But you never did. He always remained cool and expressionless and it was hard to get a read on the man, let alone see if he’s interested.

Your fingers slide across the keys, nibbling at your lip as you decide what to say.

[to: yoongi] hi! sorry to bother you but my ac appears to have died and im afraid ill be next at the rate of his heat wave 😩 no rush but id appreciate help!

Perfect. Simple, slightly cutesy. Emoji to express how chill you are.

Your phone vibrates almost instantly and a smile curves on your face.

[to: me] oh no, we can’t have that. haunted apartments are hard to rent out 😉 im out until late tonight but i can stop by first thing in the morning if that’s cool?

A flirty line? Is this… working?

[to: yoongi] tomorrow is great! and don’t worry, if i die i won’t haunt this apartment, i’ll haunt yours 😌

[to: me] see you tomorrow, poltergeist 👻

You’re leaping through the air at the idea of the hot landlord semi-flirting with you over text when you notice your apartment. It’s disgusting. Your face burns red and you instantly work on the space before Yoongi comes over. He can't see you like this.

Sleep is out of the question. After your ravage cleaning and polishing and organizing, you’ve worked up more than a sweat.  A cold shower helps for a moment but you end up lying in bed feeling slightly wet and very, very hot. The humidity is draining.

You change into an outfit of a crop top and g-string panties. You aim the 3 fans in your room to point around your bed for direct wind contact. It helps, somewhat.

Sleep finally comes as dawn breaks. It’s cooled off enough that the ambient air around you is finally tolerable.  Exhaustion overwhelms you, and you pass out, hard. Finally.

You’re broken from your exquisite dream of being nailed by your landlord when a loud knock wakes you up. It’s disorienting. You’re so tired you’re not even sure where you are at the moment, let alone who is at the door.  The knock sounds again and you scurry to turn off the loud fans and book it to the door.

The door swings open and reveals your landlord, Yoongi.

“Oh, hi!” You’re excited to see him, for reasons beyond fixing your air conditioning.

Yoongi steps in and looks like he’s about to speak but opens his mouth and remains silent. His cheeks tingle a light shade of pink and he’s staring at your body.  Did you drool all over yourself all night or something? What was he staring—

Oh god.

You glance down at your body.  The crop top you hastily changed into in the middle of the night hits you a little lower than where your breasts end. The G string is non-existent. It covers almost nothing, which is why you opted for it last night in your desire to get cooled off.

You take a step back from the sexy landlord still gaping at you and shyly cross your arms over your chest.

“I’m sorry, I—it was hot,” you mutter. “I’ll go change.”

Yoongi licks his lips, then snaps his eyes up to you and finds his voice. “It’s fine. It’s your home,” he swallows. “It’s hot in here, so stay comfortable. Don’t want to overheat you.”

His eyes stare down yours intensely. It feels like your veins sizzle, and it’s not related to the scorching temperature of your studio apartment.

He breaks the contact first and heads towards the panel in the wall where the inner workings of the air conditioner hide.

You wait in your kitchen, enjoying the natural shadow and shade from no windows and a spot to hide from Yoongi.

What if he thought badly about you?  What if he doesn’t find you attractive and thinks of this as a ploy to get him to lower your rent or something?  How could you recover from this?  Would it ever go back to being the same?

You’re anxiously tapping your fingers on the kitchen countertop, listening intently as the landlord fiddles with pipes and belts and mutters under his breath every so often.  Eventually, you hear a soft ‘aha’ and your air con kicks right on.   You think it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.   Instantly you feel the machine push out air. It’s lukewarm now from disuse, but soon it will be frigid cold.  You stand in front of the breeze and bask, arms open to let the wind blow through you.

Yoongi clears his throat, and it startles you, making you realize you’re standing in your house nearly naked, ass cheeks out on display, under-boob surely peeking out to say hi. Your face burns and it makes him chuckle as you jump and attempt to cover yourself somehow.

“How long was I standing there?” You ask quietly.

Yoongi can’t wipe the amused smirk on his face. “A few minutes,” he shrugs. “Glad it’s working now for you.”

The air rapidly cools as the machine continuously pumps out colder and colder air.

“Thank god. I owe you,” you sigh.

“Nah, that’s what rent pays for,” he smiles.

He makes his move to leave you alone, and you recognize this is it. This is your chance. You can ask him to fuck the shit out of you now. If he declines, well, the first of the month would start being more awkward. But if he accepts… it’s too blissful to imagine.

You grab at his arm as he walks past you.  He stops in his tracks, and his eyes travel to where your hands meet his skin.

“I’m serious,” you attempt to sound as confident as you can. “I owe you.”

He arches a brow at you and turns completely to face you. Your hands hover at the hem of your tiny shirt, lifting a sliver to give him a glance of the bottom of a rounded globe.

“Let me repay you somehow?” you ask.

A smirk lifts at one side of his lips. “You think that will cover the cost?”

Your cheeks heat and you pull the shirt up higher, determined to get him in your bed or die trying.

“I’m hoping.”

Yoongi’s eyes zero in on your tits. Rounded and full, nipples prickling in the fresh and rapidly cooling air.  He contemplates for a moment as he lets his eyes get their nice, long drink of you.

“Yeah, now that I think of it, that should be exact change.” He drops his bag of tools and approaches you quickly, hands cupping your head as he kisses you intensely.

He kisses you with all the fire of the heatwave outside, melting you from the inside out. You’re sure to be sweaty and clammy after you’re finished with him. He swipes his tongue over your lips, and there’s no hesitation to let him in. Your hands grip at his sides, pulling his shirt up as much as you can while trying to focus on making out with the hottest guy you’ve ever met.

He chuckles against your lips at your weak attempt to disrobe him and he reluctantly pulls a step away from you to take the shirt off. He stands there and allows you a quick look before he’s back on to you. His skin presses against your chilled nipples and the fire and ice sensation makes you shiver.

Yoongi kisses you passionately, you notice. Like a lover. It’s laced with deeper intention and you hope you’re not overthinking it. You will your brain to just shut up and enjoy. Emotions can come later.

Now, you’re the one to remove your lips from his and he pouts slightly at the loss. You smile and slide down to your knees, hands undoing the button of his tight jeans and tugging them down.

“Shit, babe, I think you may be overpaying me,” he admits. “Wasn’t that hard to fix.”

As a finger pulls down the front of his boxers to let his cock spring free, you flick a smirk up to his face.

“Then consider this my repayment for being late on rent all those months,” you state before shifting your gaze back to his hardened cock. It’s gathered pre-cum at the head and you wonder if he’s been hard and wanting since he got here and first saw you. The thought is intoxicating and spurs you on.

Your tongue licks up the slick at the tip that threatens to drip off, before it swirls around the bulbous head. Yoongi isn’t afraid to be loud, it seems. You supposed you wouldn’t be afraid if you owned the building too. Who will complain? And to who?

“Hoooooly fuck,” he gasps. “Sh—shit I might let you pay rent like this for the rest of your lease.”

You pop your mouth off and lick your lips, allowing your hand to grip his shaft and begin stroking him.

“I don’t want to pay rent this way. How about we consider it a perk?” You smile, pressing forward to kiss his tip teasingly.

“God, a girl who doesn’t want to fuck me just to take advantage of me? And she’s hot as fuck and wants to blow me for fun?” he quirks his head. “Shit, be careful or I’ll end up falling in love.”  

It makes your head spin a little and you suckle at the tip a little longer, making him keen, before you pull away again.

“Maybe that was the plan all along,” you simper, then take him in fully, letting his tip glide down your mouth to the back of your throat.  He groans loudly, and it’s the most satisfying sound. It makes you want to do this more. Every day if you could.

You get to work, sucking him in, allowing him passage to your throat, vacuuming your cheeks to add additional pressure, gliding your hands up and down the slick shaft to assist you in touching every single bit. Yoongi is thriving. He can’t believe his luck. The hottest girl in the complex, the girl he’s secretly pined over, is sucking his cock as if her life depends on it.

You’re salivating at the act now, saliva spilling out your mouth as you continue to envelop his cock quickly. You slip it out of your mouth to lean down and lick and suck at his balls, which makes him hum in absolute pleasure.  You don’t remain long—his cock is nearly pulsating with desire.  Your mouth returns to its rightful place and as you’re licking and sucking and pumping and stroking him, you maintain even and sensual eye contact with him.

You want him to know this isn’t a chore, a means to an end. You want him to know you’ve dreamt of him fucking your throat raw every night since you moved in.

Yoongi got the picture pretty quickly. His mouth drops open as he openly gapes at your work, giving him probably the best and hottest blowjob of his life.  

Your tongue swirls at the ridge of his head and Yoongi feels it snap—the tightness that holds everything back.  He fucks desperately into your throat, relishing in the feel of your gagging and moaning.  It didn’t take long until he was seeing it through to the end, pumping hot white ropes down your throat while he moaned out your name with a string of expletives.

The immoral pop noise your mouth made as you pull off his cock makes the blue-haired landlord standing above you moan.

“Fucking hell—where the fuck have you been all my life?” he sighs as he cups his hand under your chin. He beckons you back up, desperate to kiss you.  You oblige and return to standing, pressing against his body to pull him in to a dirty kiss.

“Upstairs, apparently,” you murmur.

He swipes his tongue on yours, tastes himself there, and decides he wants to taste himself on you all the time.  His hands slide down to your ass, the g string still curving down the line.  He snaps at the straps as you kiss, making you puff a laugh against his lips before pulling away.

“I’d be willing to fix your leaky faucet in the bathroom if you let me eat you out,” he offers.  

You’re tugging him towards your bed, knocking over multiple fans in the process, and flopping onto the mattress, landing on your back.

“Throw in fixing the squeaky wheel on my closet, and you’ve got yourself a deal,” you joke, spreading your legs to give him the tiniest clue of what lays between.

He sighs dramatically with a smile, “Needy tenant,” before he slips down to hover over you. He intends to kiss and lick every part of your body, starting with the tits that hypnotized him.

“Can’t believe you opened the door like that,” he chuckled as he plucked a nipple between his fingers and lightly rolled it.  “I thought I was dreaming.”

The feeling is instant, electricity sparking at the tips of your nipples and warming its way around your body, directly to your cunt.  You’re absolutely certain that by the time Min Yoongi reaches his mouth to your core, he’ll drown in it.

He moves forward and wraps his lips around the bud, allowing his hands to travel to the neglected one and to squeeze and pinch and prod.  He’s rewarded with your beautiful sighs and gasps—it’s sweeter than any song he’s ever heard.

He presses your tits together and rubs his face in the cleavage there, making you gasp and laugh at the same time.  He gazes up at you and flashes his gummy smile.

“I’ve really wanted to do that,” he admits, which makes you giggle again.

“Be my guest,” you approve.  He takes your reply and does it again for just a moment, before he’s kissing and sucking at the flesh of your breasts.  He wants to mark you, leave a piece of him for you to remember every time you see yourself.  You moan in appreciation and rub your thighs together, desperate at the ache that grows with every nip and nibble of Yoongi’s lips and teeth.

He seems to understand and trails down, kissing and sucking at your long torso, abdomen, hips.  He leaves little bruises everywhere and you want them to last forever.  You want him to mark you and claim you as his own.

His fingers slip around the thin straps of your underwear, and he tugs them right off.  He’s unable to stop the loud moan when he notices the slick that strings between them and your folds.  You’re drenched, and he marveled at how excited you were about him.

“Fuck, babe—” he sighs as he lowers his chest down to lie in front of your spread thighs.  Your center is weeping, slicked with your arousal and he can tell you’re desperate for friction, for anything.  “Look at this perfect fucking pussy.”

You whimper as you can feel his breath so close to where you need him.  

“Yoongi, please,” you whine.  “I’m so fucking horny.”

“I can tell,” he hums.  “Keep moaning my name like that and I’ll make sure you’re always horny and ready for me.”

He lowers his lips, hovering millimeters from your slit.  He holds it there as he watches your anguished face nearly burst at how close and yet how far he is, before he obliges you and presses into you.  

You gasp at the first swipe of his tongue on your clit.  He maintains a soft up and down motion on the nub and you’re already seeing stars.  He steadily increases the pressure and the speed, then spices it up by swirling his tongue around in different shapes, spelling out his name on your cunt with his tongue to remind you just who got you this fucking soaked.

Your legs falter and quiver as he slips his tongue deeper inside you, licking into your hole and nearly drinking you up.  He pulls back and devotes his attention to your clit and your moans turn from soft gasps and pleas to loud whines as he slips his fingers into your cunt and slowly fucks you, spreading you out.  He’s not small by any means, he feels he can get you ready to go.

“I want you to cum for me on my tongue,” he states, matter-of-factly.  “I want to feel you on my fingers.”

You nod, plucking at your own nipples with one hand as the other seeks purchase in his hair.  

“Can you do that for me, babe? Can you cum for me and get my hand nice and drenched?  I want to lick it off my fingers.”

His fingers get frantic and he splits his time between suckling and laving at your clit and encouraging you with illicit requests and praises.  

Yoongi continues, never letting up or even giving an inkling of a hint he’s tiring.  His hand works like a machine and he slips yet another finger inside your heat, making you arch off the bed.  He licks at your clit with just the right pressure, and he picks up the speed and it sends you tumbling towards your orgasm.  You feel the breath leave your lungs as it hits you, core and channel muscles squeezing him tight and legs shaking around his body.   Your moans echo off the small apartment walls, only drowned out by the sound of the fresh air-con still running.  

“Oh, my god Yoongi—” you pant.  “I’ve never cum so hard from oral in my life.”

He pulls his fingers from inside you as you come back down from your high and chuckles at your words.  True to his promise, he lets the slick glisten on his finger and marvels at it, before he’s popping the fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean.

“You taste so fucking good,” he compliments, and it makes your chest tighten and tips of your ears turn red.  “Fuck, I could eat you every fucking day.”

You smirk, still sensitive but feeling the desperate ache inside you needy for him and his thick cock.  Your legs spread open as he lays between them and you’re wiggling your hips to get his attention.

“I’m sure we could arrange something in my lease for that,” you tease.  “I could suck your cock hourly, honestly.”

He groans as he sits up between your legs, cock resting heavily on top of your mound.  It’s so close, so close to where you need it to be.  You appreciate the thick member as it rests and as Yoongi catches his breath.  It’s thick and long, on top of your mound the tip reaches to the tiny swell of your stomach.  You know you will not be able to walk tomorrow, that’s for sure.

“You’re telling me I could have been going down on you and been getting my dick sucked by the hottest girl on the planet this whole time and all I’ve done is give you shit about rent?”  

You stifle a laugh and spread your legs open wider.  “Looks like it.  We better make up for all that lost time, don’t you think?”

His cock is rigid, almost stone, and he agrees heartily.

“Fuck yeah, we should.  I’ve been dreaming about being inside you.”

He sounds so dirty, looks so sinful—it’s all so much and you’re almost begging for him to take you.

He reaches down to the pants on the floor that dropped and shimmies a condom out of his wallet.  You send him a look that he silences with a roll of his eyes.

“Every dude has one, chill,” he mumbles. “I haven’t gotten laid in like a year and a half.”  He pales as he realizes what he just said. “Not that it matters.  Or that I care. Or that you care—christ can we fuck now please?” He asks as he rolls the rubber onto his stiff cock.

You’re laughing a bit, not at him but with him, and you lean up on your elbows to kiss his lips.  “If it makes it better, I haven’t gotten laid in 3 years so I’m the loser by comparison,” you assure.

He wants to ask you how the fuck you haven’t gotten laid in that long because you’re the hottest god damn person he thinks he’s ever seen, but he realizes he doesn’t care and that it works out in his favor because Yoongi doesn’t like competition.

“Looks like the landlord needs to fix yet another problem of yours,” he winks as he lines himself up.  You lean back onto the pillows and sigh as you feel the touch of his head right at the opening of your slit.

In one slow motion, he slides himself to the hilt. It’s tight, so fucking tight even after one orgasm, and Yoongi nearly hollers at the feel.  He’s sure his eyes are rolling back in his head.  It’s warm and tight and wet and even through a condom he’s in absolute bliss.  He’s hoping one day he can try it without—fuck you raw and stuff you full of his cum.  

He’s still inside you, and after a moment to breathe and adjust to the thick girth of him, you’re whining.  “Yoongi, fuck me, I need you so fucking bad.”

A feral groan leaves his lips, and he’s off, beginning a pace that has him hoarse from moaning in no time.  He’s never felt so good inside a cunt before, never understood how some men could do crazy shit for ‘magic pussy’, but now he gets it—he realizes he’d probably do some dumb things for a chance to be inside you again.

“Oh, yeah—” you whine. “S-shit, you’re so fucking big, Yoongi.  Fuck me nice and deep.”

“Mmm, yeah? You want me to bruise your cervix? Want me to make this cunt remember my fucking cock?”  He thrusts harder, pushing into you with diligent speed and intensity.  “Gonna make sure you can never cum from another cock again, only mine.”

You’re losing your breath with how hard he’s fucking into you, both your moans and pants coming out in quick little bursts between his thrusts.

“Y-y-yes! Yo-o-ongi! Right there!”  He hits a spot that feels so good, and you feel the pull towards orgasm tighten.

“God—you feel so. fucking. good.” he emphasizes with a thrust. “Need to feed your tiny pussy my dick every day, hm?  Needy little cunt needs my thick cock.”

Tears form in your eyes.  The depths he reaches inside you nearly scrambles your brains—you forget everything that isn’t Yoongi and his perfect thickness spearing inside you.

“Yoongi! Gonna c-cum!”

He goes harder, becomes rabid for your second orgasm and wants to feel the way you squeezed his fingers on his cock, knowing the channel will feel even impossibly tighter.

“That’s right, good girl,” he praises while he maintains a punishing pace.  “Let me see you cum on this cock, baby, wanna see that pretty little pussy all creamy for me.”

His thumb rubs at your clit, moving it in circular motions, and diverts his eyesight between watching your full tits bounce and your lips open and close in pure bliss.  You’re the definition of fucked out and Yoongi feels a surge of testosterone at the sight—knowing he was responsible.

“O-oh! Th-there!” You’re frantic and he can tell you’re right on the edge.  He goes even faster, deeper and harder, and it’s the final straw.  You’re catapulted off the edge and thrown headfirst into your orgasm.   As he suspected, your perfect cunt pulsates around him like a fist and he’s groaning and stuttering as it triggers his own release.  

It takes a few moments for both of you to come down, before he pulls his softening cock from within you and disposes of the condom.  You’re breathing hard, and he’s smiling at the sheen of sweat on your body.

“Good thing I got that AC fixed today, hm?” He asks as he leans over to kiss at your lips.

You grin and pull him down to lay next to you, snuggling into his body.  He holds onto you and kisses your head.  He feels a level of contentment he’s never felt before.

You break the silence. “Now, as the landlord’s girlfriend, do I get any special perks? Like you’ll throw the utilities into my rent? Free cable?”

He chuckles against your forehead. “Not a fucking chance, babe.”

© ppersonna - 2020 - do not repost on any site, or translate without express permission from author.

[nahimjustfeelingit-writes]

Sound Proof

okay so this fic was from Wattpad and I found it in my google docs so I’m just gonna upload it here for ya’ll lol. I didn’t tag, I wrote this a while ago let me know what ya’ll think!!!

Warnings: Smut.

With dancing, came immense concentration and a lot of cardio.

That was all okay for Damara. She wore her silk pressed hair back into a pony, simple Polo Ralph Lauren hat on to keep her edges slicked back, high waist thin grey leggings, all white cropped tank, and matching white Vans. Damara held onto the aluminum double bar Ballet barre, studying her glistening reflection within the wall mirrors that covered every single area from floor to ceiling. 

Her chest rose and fell, right hand coming up to rub sweat off the tip of her nose. She had thirty minutes down, only twenty more to go. Being a pro dancer was fun when you posted tutorials on Instagram and YouTube, but when it came down to touring internationally and getting a chance to perform at Coachella, dance became a full time job.

Damara stares down at her version three iWatch, allowing herself to become consumed with the breathing app. She watched it expand with every breath, then declined whenever she exhaled. After her breathing returned to normal, Damara pulled up her iTunes playlist again, choosing to go sensual with a little bit of flash dance routine.

The instrumental to Kendrick Lamar- Love.

This song was always a warm up for her because it got her ‘in the mood’. She could feel the want and need behind the beat and his words. Damara snakes her hands up her frame, sliding slowly from the cuff of her ass, to her lower back, and lightly up and over her shoulders, forearms pressing into her large D cup breasts. 

One thing is for sure, Damara could move her torso like Shakira, body rolling and ticking to the beat with perfect harmony. Doing a sudden spin on her tiptoes, Damara Lowers herself to the polished flooring, arching her back off of the surface with her legs spread into a V, before lifting her lower half off the ground to do a series of air kicks like she was back in an 80s workout video or like she was in Kanye West’s video for Fade instead of Teyana Taylor.

She turned over onto her hands, hitting a side to side split perfectly before lifting from the ground to walk seductive and tantalizing towards the middle of the dance studio.

That’s where it began, the sweatiest most bewitching dance yet. Her hands cascade everywhere, eyes closed to take in the beat with heightened hearing. Her hands rubbed along the outline of her pussy in a teasing manner. Damara was so shameless when it came to dancing provocatively. She twirled and made an S with her body like a snake, body in sync to the beat. The sultry look in her eyes could trap you like Medusa. You would think she danced to one of Prince's songs from the outside looking in. 

The song came to an end, Damara lifting her shirt over her head and tossing it in the corner, picking up her gallon water bottle to take a huge sip. She wiped at her mouth with the back of her hand, feeling the burn in her curvy waistline from all the crunching and belly rolling that came with dancing. Her gluteal muscles were on fire as well, causing Damara to admire her ass in the mirror, sweat staining the crack of her ass over the fabric. 

—

Finishing up, Damara grabs all her things before leaving the dance studio at the gym she finally snagged a membership for. The gym had two sections: one for premium guests who had VIP access to the soundproof workout rooms or standard. Sadly, Damara was standard. She always wanted to workout in the soundproof tinted glass rooms like all the extremely fit individuals did, but one look through those glasses at the equipment housed within would make you withdraw with fear. Her personal trainer had stressed for her to go VIP, bribing her with access to the ice bath room and luxury pool where you can watch the LA skyline like you’re in a hotel.

She made a left at the end of the hall, walking with her shirt and towel over her shoulder to the main gymnasium area full of musky people and terrible workout music. Even though Damara did a one hour session of dancing, she couldn’t help but to gravitate towards the stair master for a good fifteen minute burn. Once there, Damara climbs the stairs, beginning her workout on nine speed, instantly feeling the ache. Her eyes scanned the area, finally landing on a group of women huddled around one of the sound proof workout rooms for VIP gold card members. 

She let out a tired chuckle, shaking her ponytail clad head before pausing to drink some water. Of COURSE they would all salivate over some random ass man instead of working out, because that’s what gyms are for these days. On queue every day Damara comes to the gym, once the clock strikes 8 pm, a hoard of women suffocate the glass, fogging it with their heavy breathing and wetting it with saliva from their wiggling tongues. Damara would have been one of them if she listened to her group of girlfriends who didn’t come in tonight. Supposedly, there is this fine ass man that comes to the gym every day, around 8 pm. Damara never seems to catch him, and even if she did, no man was that fine to act like a hyena over. He couldn’t be that sexy.

“Ooo, girl, let me get off this got damn treadmill he back again!” Damara turned to find a short, slim, mocha skinned girl with a track runners body ogling the group of women, her friend who looked like she could be her sister, biting her lip.

“I wonder if he’s doing the pull ups right now, fuckk. You know his dick stay hard when he working out.” 

The other girl laughs, “I just want to suck it. Just give me one good time!” 

Both women laughed while Damara tries her best to work out and ignore them. But to her surprise, she couldn’t focus. Not because of the talking, but because she wanted to see what all the fuss was about. Maybe after this she could rub it in her friends faces that whoever this guy was, wasn’t about the hype after all.

Defeated, Damara stopped her workout, quickly lowering herself off the machine and towards some spray and paper towels to wipe away her sweat. Tossing everything, Damara makes her way towards the sound proof workout room straight across from the men’s locker room. 

Here she was, and yet just a few minutes ago she was laughing to herself at how ridiculous it was to come to a gym and stare at a man for two hours. Wasn’t no man fine enough for that.

The glass window straight ahead had about seven ladies standing in front of it, whispering and admiring at what looked like absolutely nothing to Damara. It was so dark she couldn’t see a thing. As she got closer, at first, all she could see through that glass was the usual workout machines of all types and weight racks. Just before she could walk away, he started lifting those weights. Suddenly, as if pulled by some type of force field, Damara turned into a fan girl with glossy eyes and a watery mouth. He had to be the one her friends were talking up. There is no way he couldn’t be the one with how fine he is. 

“This must be your first time noticing Erik.” 

Damara turned to the lady who looked to be twice her age standing next to her.

Damara didn’t respond, she simply looked back at him through that tinted glass. He was so fucking sexy that her jaw dropped; literally. Erik was definitely the one her friends were juiced up over. Not the juice you drink, but the drip from that pussy when she hungry for a nigga as damn fine as he is. 

Erik had been bench pressing weights and she couldn’t get a good enough look at him until he lowered the weights. Yeah, when he was laid out on his back, sweaty muscles moving as he lifted 280 pounds over his head he looked good, but GOD once he stood up was she slapped with his looks.

Erik was wearing sweat shorts that dropped low around his waist, a damp sweat top and a pair of Nike Air Max Trainer 1s on his feet.

His braided back dreads were damp from the perspiration; it really set off his caramel complexion.

Erik returned his weights to their respective places and stood facing that mirror with a bottle of gatorade. Damara could really see how perfect he was. Fine wasn’t even the word, it was so much she could say about him. The look in his eyes, the way his muscles moved in conjunction with him, the smoothness of his skin, the hairstyle that compliments him very well, and let’s not forget those lips. She figured he got many compliments on his lips, as beautiful and suckable as they were. That thick erection he was sporting was an added bonus. All she could see was herself lowering onto it and rocking like crazy, like she was riding a horse. When she returned to reality from her lustful daze, she noticed her hands were flat against the glass, jaw STILL dropped, and her nipples tender and hard practically clawing at him. They were so hard that they were hurting, and the feeling of his lips pulling and sucking and licking on them would have been exactly what she needed, just pull her shirt down and suck em.

All of that talk and fantasizing in her head, ironically made his eyes meet hers. Damara swore she thought those big, dark eyes could see her and only her. The lady she ignored next to her smiled, like she knew what Damara was going through. She did, that’s why her and the others were still there.

——

Feeling a little foolish and embarrassed by her behavior, Damara asked the lady next to her if Erik could see them or was it one of those half way windows.

“Girl, he can see us alright. That’s why his dick is so big and hard poking through those shorts. He sees something he likes.” 

Damara looked back at him, and right then like a spark had been ignited, he smiled a little at her with dimples, then winked before downing the rest of his gatorade. Damara could feel her knees buckle, body so nervous. She decided it was most definitely time to bounce. That night, Damara never told her girls about seeing the living legend, but she did go back the following day, a Wednesday, to stare him down at that window again. She purposely went there alone to have him to herself. It was crazy how obsessed he became.

——

After about a week or so of admiring Erik through that glass, Damara decided to take it up a notch and use the adjoining women’s workroom; yeah, like she could actually bench press any of the equipment in there. Getting into that women’s workroom meant that she had to become a gold member. The upgrade was about 20 dollars more, which landed her to about 80 dollars a month; great.

She felt like she’d been walking the yellow brick road to the emerald city. Opening those double glass doors to her new sanctuary,  she could smell musk no longer, only fresh air and a cool breeze. The music was even better in there, sicko mode playing low through the speakers. It was approximately 7:50 pm, so she knew Erik would be arriving soon. 

At about 8:15, a little later than usual, Erik pulled open the doors and walked into the men’s workroom. He had his dreads crinkled and messy, a pair of Beats solo 3 in black with gold trim over his ears, black Nike pro training top that clung to his body like it was two sizes too small, matching black shorts that hung low on his hips with the waistband of his compression pants peeking through. He hadn’t immediately seen Damara on the other side since she was in the corner tugging on the pull ropes that she couldn’t make budge. She didn’t really know what to do. If she popped out of nowhere near that window, she could scare him to death, and he’d be mad. He looked like the no nonsense type too. 

Damara decided that hiding wouldn’t fix anything so she came out into the open to do some yin yoga poses that helped stretch her body. Sitting Indian style, she started with the butterfly, bending forward while gripping her shoes. The stretch made her moan, all the tension in her back disappearing. Next, she decided on the dragon, bringing one foot forward in a low lunge, stretching out her glutes and back again. Admiring herself, she liked the way her ass looked in the tinted mirror, and apparently so did Erik. Her heart dropped to her stomach like she’d been on the tallest roller coaster, her eyes reverting towards the ground. Damara could feel his eyes on her still as she lifted from the ground, rolling her neck. With one hand on the back of her neck to stretch the muscles, her eyes met his again. That same slight smile graced his face again, almost innocent, but those eyes were dark and sultry, like hot coal.

The heat turned down just a little, Erik walking away leaving Damara a flustered mess.

——

He started out with a little cross training. Damara watched from her workout mat in between doing crunches. Next, he pumped a little iron. She noticed how he enjoyed admiring himself when he lifted weights. The veins in his arms would bulge so much it looked like they wanted to break the surface of his skin. She could see his mouth slightly opened, concentration set in his features, and she just knew he was making those grunting, straining noises that guys make when they workout. Watching those muscles flex and bulge like that made her weak in the knees again. She liked the feeling. When he lay on his back to do the leg lifts, that’s when she lost it in a major way. The weight Damara had in her hand to do Russian twists fell down on her shoulder. She screamed out without even knowing it. All she could feel was pain beginning to throb in her left shoulder, and she laid back on the floor massaging it with a whimper. Unfortunately, at that time Erik was the last thing on her mind. When Damara got enough nerve to look at the window, Erik was pressed against it looking at her. He mouthed to her since it was sound proof, “You aight, Lil Mama?”

After Damara figured out his words, she nodded and gave him the okay symbol with a tired smile. Erik stares at her for a few seconds, scanning her frame in that PUMA workout suit she decided to wear, then moved on to the leg machine again. Damara liked the way he scouted her, and that made the pain in her shoulder go unnoticed.

——

Throughout their workouts, they would peep each other, and he liked the attention she was showering him with. There he was again with those pull-ups, directly facing her with intimidation in his eyes. Somehow, he had lost his shirt along the way, sweat pouring off his body like he’d been doing push-ups in the rain. 

Damara’s workout suit was almost see-through and hugging all her curves, and he definitely paid attention because his erection was good and hard, tenting the front of those black workout shorts like wild. Damara wanted to think it was solely her making those pants tent like that, but working the hell out of those machines may have played a role in it. She’s good, but not that good.

The more she looked at Erik, the more she wanted to taste him, feel him pressing into her throat. 

Damara looked down at her iWatch and realized it was minutes to closing time, but she couldn’t leave that room, let alone that window. She hated to leave because he was worth staying and getting caught with. Knowing the kind of man Erik was, he probably got a kick out of the chicks staring his fine ass down, then going home to his equally fine ass girl. That was the kind of luck Damara had: finding the juiciest man on the planet, but not able to land him because he was taken.

Damara suddenly had a lightbulb moment. Erik was a gold member, with a passkey to leave the gym if he ever got locked in. Damara could lie and say she lost her passkey, having to go to him to get out...or to get off! Shit, lord knows she needs that, it’s been way too long. Suddenly, Erik made a move she hadn’t been prepared for. He stepped away from the weight trainer and approached the window again. Damara couldn’t move, couldn’t muster a speech, all she could do was watch him approach her with that sweaty, perfect body. Maybe not so perfect to some because it was littered with tiny raised scars, but to her it was absolutely perfect. Man, the closer he got to her, the hotter she got. In all her orgasmic nonsense with a pussy so wet and probably creaming her panties, it soon dawned on her that he probably approached her to ask her why she’s still there; that maybe he was tired of being stared at as if he were a zoo animal. Damara got scared and backed up.

Erik backed up a bit, confusion on his face before chuckling, giving her a head to toe view of him, then he got busy. His eyes stared into hers as he massaged that massive erection up and down through his pants. Damara could feel her nectar elevating within her core. Then it hit her, he was about to give her a private sex show. Was she about to bounce? Fuck no, she stayed and watched everything that pretty nigga did.

When his erection got hard and thick within his pants, he let out a fucking dazzling smile that could make her cum right there. No man had ever smiled so wickedly at her that her panties got wet; then again, she’d never met Erik. His pecs were mouthwatering to the point of drool, contours and ripples were everywhere. All her nasty little tongue wanted to do was lick, lick from his collarbone to his abs and continue south. Her hands shook as they clutched her chest, feeling her nipples brush against her fingers. All the while, her eyes never left his.

——-

Bending to remove his shoes and socks was a chore because that delicious dick was in the way, but he managed. His fingers beckoned Damara to get closer. Damara knew he was going to slide his pants down next, the nigga was clever with his seduction. She moved back to that window, and watched him slide his shorts to his hips. His dick bounced out, sprang to life, and she dropped to her knees, wondering how all that would feel stroking her insides. He was real heavy, the type of dick where the tip and about two inches could only fit in the pussy. The type of dick where you would push him away while he blew your back out from getting too deep. The type of dick where you had to use two hands to jerk while you sucked; you really gotta be a pro to suck a dick like that with no hands, not to mention ride a dick like that.

Erik bit at his plump bottom lip, massaging it with his tongue while his hand massaged that long pole; that damn snake. The more he stroked, the bigger and bigger it became within his hand. He strokes that beautiful dick until he was about ready to nut. He mouthed at her through that sound proof glass, 

“I want that throat.”

His muscles tensed, he squeezed it harder, and playfully rubbed it against the glass directly where her mouth was. She swore she could taste him, feel him sliding it between her lips and forcing his inches into her. Erik stroked it so hard that she could see the moisture forming on his tip. Damara couldn’t help herself, she had to reach between her thighs and stroke her pussy to match his tempo. Damara pulled her suit down, revealing her drenched sports bra and panties to him. She didn’t want to waste any time the way her fingers made its way to her panties, pulling the fabric to the side to reveal her wet sticky treat. The more he stroked himself, the deeper her fingers slide into her valley; all three of them. When Erik dropped to the floor, she scrambled to see what he was going to do next. It was fucking outrageous! That pretty ass nigga got on his back and moved his hips up and down like a bitch was on top of him. Damara screamed in ecstasy over the sight of it. Her fingers went deeper and deeper like she was trying to scoop her cum out the pussy. She turned around and arched her back, rubbing at her clit with one hand while fingering herself with the other. He pumped hard and long, perspiration dripping from him, muscles tensing. Damara just knew he was going to explode on the floor instead of her which was a damn shame. No. No fucking way. He turned over on his stomach, and did push-ups, pumping those hips and dick into oblivion. He still hadn’t cum for her yet. His arm shook when he did his one-handed push-ups, dick throbbing in his other hand. She felt her orgasm building deep in her belly, her legs shaking from muscle strain and intense pleasure. That was the grand finale, watching him cream into his own hands while staring her down. 

Damara screamed out, Cumming on her fingers with a shake of her body.

——

He returned to his back and pressed out so much cum that she almost fainted from the orgasm he gave her. When her breathing returned to normal, Damara looked into her hand, now covered with so much of her own thick moisture that her fingers were sticking together. Then she glanced up at him watching her with a sweet smile on those wonderful lips—his erection was still in his hand and still harder than boulders. 

The windows were nice and steamed by the time he and Damara finished. She watched him grab the rest of his belongings and headed for the showers. Damara took off as well, figuring that was all she’d get from him. 

Damara made her way to the showers herself, letting her plan go. At least she got a good show from him so she was thankful. 

While in the shower, Damara couldn’t help but smile as she wet her body under the steamy water. She struggled to fight the urge that this was it and probably her last sex show a man would ever give her and he didn’t even touch her. Damara allowed the warm water to trickle down her aching joints and relaxed. Her body mitt delicately encircled her breasts, pretending the sultry touch was Erik’s fingers, sucking on them gently before making a tongue track down to her core. She shuddered in waves of heat. Her body trembled, spasms, taking her mind off the pain from her injured shoulder. She completely gave in to pleasure and let the most tremendous orgasm hit her like no other one had ever before...well, until Erik happened on the scene. 

Then.

“Damn, girl.”

The words came from nowhere. Damara assumed they had been in her mind. Nonetheless, her eyes opened and she twirled around to see if anyone had come in. There Erik was, standing directly in front of her. Damara tried reaching for her towel but Erik snatched it from the railing before she could get it.

His cool, seductive voice melted into her horny spirit. 

“Imagine how big this dick would be if I would have been standing right above that ass, watching you finger that pussy from the front. All I could see was that phat ass shaking and quivering to some sexual fantasy. Was it about me?” 

Damara couldn’t speak. All she could do was look down at the towel around his midsection, sporting a killer of an erection. Her mouth opened, her voice cracked. 

“I...I, uh…”

“It’s okay, babygirl. I already know that ass was thinking about me. How could you not after the show I gave you.” 

Erik moves toward her, one step away from entering the stall with her. 

“You liked that show I already know that shit. I already know I got you”— he slapped her pussy, then reached around to palm her ass roughly, smacking each ass cheek causing it to sting—“hot enough to want more, right? You should anyway since I gave you a little taste of what the fuck I got,” he pulled his towel off and entered the stall.

It was different from having that window in between them both, Damara covering her nakedness with her arms. Erik pulled them down.

“Don’t you dare cover up a fucking thing.”

The grip on her wrists were so tight her hands shook.

“So, you just walk in women’s locker rooms? What if I wasn’t the only one here?” 

He chuckles, letting her wrists go, “And? I don’t give a fuck about that. It’s okay for me to do whatever I fucking please in here.” He kisses her cheek. “I’m Erik—“

“I know who you are, Erik. Every woman within a five-city radius knows who you are.” 

“Yeah? And who might you be?”

“Damara; nothing exotic, nothing romantic, just regular old Damara.”

“Not from where I’m standing, girl. You are so fucking sexy. I bet you taste good too, I know that pussy enjoyed me pleasing you.”

“It did, I can still feel it.” She lets out a moan.

“Well then that pussy won’t mind if I please you again?”

Damara relaxed, his hands covering her breasts, much the same way they did in her daydream. He stroked the tight tips with his thumbs, then replaced them with his lips. She was right, that mouth was made to suck on some titties. Erik sucked them ferociously, licking them like they were candy. Her head reared back as he sucked like he was trying to milk her. Her back arched off that wall, his arm circling her waist and pulling her close.

“So, you want everything, huh?”

“Every single drop.”

Erik’s muscles tightened around Damara; their bodies pressed against the wall. As the water continues to drench them, he lifted her into his arms; her legs hugged his hips. She felt the tip of that delicious dick play with her opening, tease it, rub up and down on it. She faces him, staring into those delicious brown eyes of his. 

“It’s almost closing time, I couldn’t leave yet without a little taste.” 

It definitely wouldn’t be a little with how big he was. Damara prepares herself for the surprise, her pussy clenching and quivering on its own. Erik takes his fingers to caress her clit, taking a single finger to tease it with a flickering motion. Damara kept a firm grip on his neck, pressed against the shower wall. 

“I’m playing wit that clit good, huh?”

She responds with a bite to his shoulder, her pussy jerking in his hand. Erik brings his fingers to his mouth, spits on them, then brings them back to her clit. He was very generous with his spit, making her pussy extra sloppy. Clearly with him still going at it on her clit he aimed to make her cum this time with his own fingers. 

“Ok, you working my clit,” she felt him take his dick to finish it off, rubbing her clit in circles. The smoothness of the tip of his dick hit every sensitive spot on her clit. 

“Make that pussy cum,” she edged him on.

His hand came down to grip her ass while he worked, her body shuddering, legs securing around him even harder, moans echoing off of the shower walls. 

“Shit, fuck, damn…”

She could feel the sensitivity in her pussy too.

“Open up for me.”

Damara opened wider, Erik bringing his dick to her pussy. He pushed his way in slow, only by a few inches before she clamped up. Her guess was correct, he was too much to take. Damara was scared now, she didn’t know if she could go through with it.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking big,” her eyes grew wide.

“Ha, You knew that already when you saw me jerking it.” 

“I’m too tight.”

“So?” He moves his hips, teasing her walls to let him in further. Her body crunched, hand to his chest. Was she fucking a monster dick or what? His shit was too damn much.

“Chill,” her eyelids fluttered. She wouldn’t be able to stand.

“You’ve been eyeing me all fucking week, teasing me and shit and now you wanna cry about how big my dick is?” 

He kissed at her neck, causing her to moan and rub her wet face against his. She brought her hands to his biceps, squeezing them tightly. 

“Be gentle, okay? It’s too damn big.”

Erik takes that invitation, gripping her hips firm before pressing himself in inch by inch, pausing in between. Each time he entered her it felt like he was ripping her a new hole, but it felt so full in a good way. Along with the pain came a shock of pleasure. The vein on the underside of his shaft rubbed smoothly at the floor of her pussy, a new sensation she had never felt. It curves at the tip to hit her g spot, swiping it each time he moves his hips.

“I don’t think I ever had a dick this good,” she hissed the moment he fully entered her. 

“I already know you didn’t with all that crying you was doing.” He pulled out to the tip, purposely, to make her feel every inch again. Erik pushes back in, watching the way her face went through a series of confused and unprepared emotions. It was time to pick up the pace now. Erik started off slow, his strokes growing and her moans. Damara held onto the rails along the walls of the shower, watching with astonishment how Erik’s dick fucked her.

“Oh, oh, omg,” she shook tremendously, a single hand clawing at Erik’s chest. He simply fucks her with deeper strokes, reminding her what came with every inch. Clearly he had a fetish for making women cry from how big he was. That rock hard body came with a huge package. 

“Are you fucking kidding me!!!!!” She felt a rush of pressure forming in her lower belly, so big it pushes Erik’s dick out, a fountain of liquid pouring. The more she clenched, the more it flowed. Damara couldn’t control it and it shocked her. No way, this nigga made her squirt and for the first time ever. She’d always tried to make that happen for herself but it never worked so she would give up. 

That seemed to fuel Erik even more, he brought one of her legs up into a split, entering her body again. This time, he flexed his abs, bringing his dick into even more of a curve, really hitting her spot. Erik knew what he was doing, he wanted to see the reaction again.

“Come on, take this big dick,” he held her leg up even if it shook.

“Ah, fuck yes, shit it’s happening again!!” Before she could relax, here she was, squirting again but Erik stayed in. He smiled, slamming her so hard with his dick that she could feel it in her stomach. At this point, Damara might as well lose count of how many orgasms she’ll have. 

———

It was true.

Damara has missed two days of the gym for a reason. 

She couldn’t get out of the damn bed the morning after her and Erik had sex. Her pussy was sore and sensitive, inner thighs shaking when she stood from the bed. Damara didn’t bother exchanging numbers with him, unsure if she would even be able to take him up on a second chance. Deciding to be a big girl, Damara went to the gym for a dance session. 

She stood in the mirrored dance studio wearing a leotard colored bronze, a pair of sweats on and her hair in a messy bun with her vans. She skimmed through her playlist on iTunes, adjusting her AirPods to her liking.

Damara had to squat ballerina style to stretch her thigh muscles, bringing her leg up to extend the muscles of her inner thigh. Rolling her neck, she turns from the mirror, deciding to dance to a Nicki song. Once she got in the groove with the tempo, she started her routine. Her body moved like magic. The mirror wasn’t her own audience anymore, Erik was standing at the door watching her closely. He didn’t make a move, his eyes following her skillful moves along with her dangerous body, I mean, Damara was thick. Even through her loose fitted sweats he could tell. Now that Erik got a good look at her, he recognized her from Instagram.

DeetheeDancer.

She was pretty popular on social media for her dancing. Erik watched a few of her videos from time to time, loving the way she moved. She had this way of letting you know she was sexy from the look she gave in the camera when it followed her body. It was as if she was daring you to touch her, let her throw it back on you and see if you can catch it.

——-

Damara finished off to her first song, bending over with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. She paused her music, picking up her water to take a long sip. After recapping it, Damara’s eyes sweep the area, landing on the door and seeing a familiar face waving at her. 

It was him, the big dick nigga that had her on a two day hiatus. He looked to be arriving at the gym because he didn’t look worn out just fresh with a bomber jacket over top of his workout gear, beats over his ears and shades on. 

“Mind if I come in?” He mouthed.

Damara caught her breath before smiling, motioning for him to enter. He finally stepped through, dropping the duffel bag that was on his shoulder.

“Why ain’t you tell me you were a dancer? You ain’t so average.” 

“It’s kind of hard to do that when you were balls deep in me.” She mouthed tiredly.

“You talk hella bold but when I’m in there I have you running though.” He removed his shades, blessing her with his brown eyes.

“Mind if I watch? I got all day.” Erik removed his jacket.

“Fine with me,” Damara was okay with it, she had eyes on her with dancing almost all the time.

“She plugged her phone into the wall Bluetooth, settling on dancing to some pussy popping music from her freaky playlist. Yes, this was absolutely purposeful.

Right off the back, Megan Thee Stallion Freak Nasty began playing. She started off with a routine she already had to this song. She poses, hands rubbing down her frame before squatting down with a grip on her knees while swaying her hips. She did a turn, one hand in her hair with the other on her ass. Once the beat dropped, she got into the groove with a sexy hip hop routine that involved a lot of footwork and ass shaking. Her ass shook alright, like a goddamn tidal wave straight from the sea. She bounced in a circle, spreading her legs wide before landing into a perfect split that deserved tens across the board like she was a gymnast. 

Erik was impressed, and so was the huge dick that jumped happily in his compression briefs. She was clearly giving it her all, impressing him. He could fuck her ass royally with his dick, congratulate her for the little talent show. She was on the floor again, doing a perfect side split, her eyes moving from the mirror and zeroing in on his erection. She must have known that he was turned on because her eyes didn’t move from his crotch the entire time she grind, bent her body over, and twerked her ass. 

“You think that pussy can handle this dick today?”

She stops moving, hyperventilating before pausing her music.

“Nah, keep that playlist rolling, I want you to dance on this dick.”

She looked at him. He looked at her. She whispered, “okay, I admit it. You’ve got too much dick for me.” 

“Girl,” He wasn’t trying to hear that.

“I’m serious, I need to be able to move not walk like a cripple.” 

“It’s a gift,” he smiles wide.

Damara walks over to the mirrored wall, holding onto the bar before stretching her leg all the way up to her head. 

“See, you preparing yourself already.”

Erik began to approach her, Damara bent over with her head between her legs, looking from behind. She could see Erik making his way to her, the feeling in her stomach making her nervous. Damara lifts back up, grabbing a towel to wipe her neck off. Here he was now, fully enveloped in her personal space with his hands on either side of the bar, chin resting on her shoulder.

“I mean, you really got that shit up there, huh?” He was referring to her leg.

She chuckles, “Chill out, monster.”

“Monster? Hm,” Erik turns Damara around, his eyes scanning her heaving chest, “Well, it is October.” 

She smiles, licking her lips before looking at his, “You plan on scaring me again?”

Erik takes his thumb to stroke her chin, “I thought you were afraid of big, bad things?”

Damara swallows spit, eyes fluttering. She grabbed the bar on either side to brace herself.

“You ain’t know? This is my favorite time of the year.”

Damara places her hands on the back of Erik’s head, pulling him down to meet her lips. They kissed, Erik’s hand on her hips now, pulling her off and against him. The next song that played was dvsn- With me.

“C’ mon,” Erik kisses her again, their full lips in French kiss mode, “dance on me.”

Damara takes her time to work her hips into the slow beat, Erik easily matching her movements. She was impressed, turning now, dipping forward with her ass against his crotch, twirling her hips in a hypnotizing circle. Erik places one arm across her chest, his face buried in her hair, Damara turning to face him slightly while she moved her hips tantalizingly slow against him. 

“Mm,” Erik looked her frame up and down.

Damara turns, on her knees, arching back before rolling her body forward, grabbing Erik’s legs as she began to rise while her hips moved from side to side. She went to her tip toes then, one leg cleanly rising to rest on his shoulder before she arched her back, jumping up for Erik to catch her. He does, twirling her around before slowing down as the song slowed, their eyes meeting. 

“Wow,” she spoke breathlessly.

Before she could stop herself, Damara places her lips against his, Erik bringing her to the floor. Between frantic kisses, Erik undressed her, her naked sweaty body warm against his. She moans, arms around his neck. Erik takes his fingers, slipping inside to get a feel and taste.

“You taste just right,” He sucks slowly on his fingers before taking those same fingers to rub her nipples. 

“Fuck,” Damara pushes Erik down to the floor, her hands moving quickly to undress him. She needed him no matter how big he was. The sight of him again almost knocked her out. Damara grabs his dick, licking her lips before sinking her mouth over him. Erik instantly palmed the back of her head, biting his lip and saying how much of a good girl she was.

Damara sucked like her life was at stake, spit covering her hands and chest. She couldn’t fit him all in her mouth but she did her absolute best. Erik pulls her mouth off, watching the string of spit connect with her lower lip.

“Climb up, Baby girl.” Erik motions for Damara to come to him, Her legs straddling him on either side before her arms grabbed his shoulders tightly. She tried to prepare herself but the moment Erik slipped inside again she squeezed his biceps with her nails. Erik hisses, taking his hands to grab at her waist to keep her still. He started fucking up into her at an even pace, the pressure within her too much. She could feel the shit in her spine. Damara looked back at it, eyes closing in sweet pleasure before looking down at Erik’s smiling face.

“God, please keep fucking me.”

Erik grabs her ass, anchoring his hips before picking up the pace. The scream from her was so loud it bounced off the walls. 

“These walls ain’t sound proof, Baby girl.” 

She couldn’t move or control her cries. Erik was deep within her guts. Damara begged for Erik to keep going over and over, a series of please and I need more escaping her mouth.

“You gonna squirt on me like that again?” He bit his lip, raising his brows in a rude manner to initiate a response from her, “I said is that what you’re gonna do?!” 

“Yes!!!!!”

Damara snapped, squirting like he asked. Erik slaps both her ass cheeks for that.

“Good girl, I know you got more for me.”

“Yes, Erik.” 

She froze, mouth suspended open before cumming again. Within seconds?

“FUCKkkkkk.” 

“Mhm,” he fucked up into her at the same killer pace, “mhm...mhm.”

“STOP!” She cries out, the urge to cum right there.

“Stop it, I’m gonna cum again!”

“Girl, shut up and cum.” 

Erik was close himself.

“Shut that crying up and cum on this dick.”

She went silent, body trembling before cumming for a third time.

“Oh my God,” she cries.

“You gonna let me cum in that mouth, Baby girl?”

Erik bounced Damara a few more times before slipping her off, standing to his feet quickly while she stayed on her knees. Damara opened wide, waiting for his treat. He jerked his big dick, grunts deep and eyes low and dangerous. After three pumps the cream spilled, Damara’s tongue ready. He tasted so damn good. 

“All of it, I’m not playing with you.”

She grabs his dick, licking and sucking all of it off.

“Good girl,” he puckered his lips down at her, mouthing a kiss. She almost fainted.

“You gonna have them thirsty bitches mad”

Damara didn’t care.

[jamielea81]

Just a Simple Lie

Chapter 9

Description: Having worked on small independent films for the better part of a decade, your friend tells you about an opening for a script supervisor with a large studio. Wanting to advance your career, you apply and get an interview. The only downside, they prefer to hire crew who are married. It’s just a simple lie, right?

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader

Warnings: Cursing, pining, fluff

A/N: This is NOT the final chapter. There is one more after this one. Per the usual: this fic is simply for fun. I know nothing about the personal lives of the two actors in this series and mean no harm. I am also totally guessing regarding the studio talk. Comments, reblogs, and likes are always welcome.

Word Count: 3,932

Catch up with Chapter 8

**

“What’s going on with you?” Monica asked.

“Nothing.”

She’s asked you this question for the better part of a month. Not Yours only had a couple of weeks left to shoot, but filming had seemed to drag on despite it it’s short two month schedule.

“Are you still down about Travis?”

Okay, yes, you were still lying. Kind of. After the night of the wrap party where Chris Evans walked out of your life, you took the ring off and put it back into your jewelry box saying a prayer of sorry to your grandmother for wearing her ring. Surprisingly no one brought it or Travis up except for Monica. You kept it vague. Said he wasn’t right for you and the two of you were friends. All of which was true and she didn’t press. Except for when she asked what was wrong.

“Travis and I are friends. And I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine. You’ve just been down this whole shoot.”

“Have I not been getting the job done? Have I dropped the ball in anyway?” you asked, nose buried in your copy of the script.

“Duuuuude,” she said bumping you.

“Fine,” you tossed your script on to your desk and gave her your full attention. “I’m just tired. Honestly. Haven’t been sleeping well.”

“Maybe your pregnant.”

“You’d have to be having sex to be pregnant, Monica.”

“Maybe you’re like three months pregnant and don’t know it,” she said with a smug grin. She was pulling your chain per the usual.

You gave her a smile that verged on a laugh. “You suck.”

“Maybe so. But you still love me,” she replied.

And you did. The two of you had become extremely close on this shoot. Probably because it was being completely shot on the lot with teenagers and people in their early twenties who liked to go out to clubs. Most of the crew were in their thirties so you stuck together. It was for the best. Look where being besties with Chris got you.  

You tried. Honest to goodness tried. The morning after the wrap party you called him with your hands shaking the whole time only to be dumped in his voicemail. You texted him about twelve times that first week and didn’t receive a response. Two weeks later he responded.

Chris: Maybe it’s best we just don’t speak.

Getting that message shot a pain through your heart you didn’t think was possible. Twenty minutes later he messaged again.

Chris: I can’t be with someone who isn’t honest with me. Any type of relationship is built on communication and honesty.

He was right. While he was busy falling for you, you were pretending to be engaged.

Y/N: You’re right. It’s something I’ll always regret but I’ll accept your request. I won’t contact you again.

There was no use pouring your heart out to him again. You had already done so a few times in voicemails and text messages. If anything, you were mad at yourself. Mad for not telling him when the two of you had first gotten close. And again, when you were sick and staying in his rental. Or the numerous times the two of you hung out after filming was complete for the day. You were so ready to let him go after the wrap party until he told you he was crazy about you. Of course, you were crazy about him too, but you had locked that away.

“I’m just having a problem with a friend. I wasn’t honest about something and now we aren’t speaking,” you told her with a shrug.

“If they’re a good friend they’ll eventually come around.”

“I hope so.”

**

“She’s unbearable,” Ian said, running a hand through his hair making it stand on end. “Can you please just stay with us? Or maybe, um. Maybe you can convince her she’s not working enough?” You chuckled at your crazed friend. “The people at Sony must have professionals on staff that can manage her. I just... I just can’t anymore. Not to mention I haven’t put together any of the furniture in the nursery. Haven’t washed any of the clothing or bedding. There just isn’t time.”

He bent over the sink, hands resting on the polished stone on either side, breathing deeply. You clicked the pulse button on the blender giving it another minute to come together. Ian had come into the room with his mouth moving when you were in the middle of blending the pink concoction making you pause. You released the button, walking past Ian’s arched back to grab glass from the cupboard. Walking past him once more, you took off the cover and poured the fruit and spinach filled smoothie into the glass.

Joanna was on the couch, her legs reclined on the empty seats with her tablet in hand.

“Here you go my dear. I’m taking your hubby out for a beer.”

She rested the tablet on her large belly and smiled. “Thank you. He’s driving me up the wall.”

You kissed the top of her head. “I’ve got you.”

**

Travis and Gemma were seated at a four top sitting opposite of each other when you and Ian walked in.

“Oh look, Gem! It’s my lovely bride,” Travis nearly shouted as you took a seat next to him.

Flicking him on the arm, he flinched but kissed your cheek. “Are we ever getting over that?” you whined.

“Never,” he whispered.

“I still can’t believe you assholes never told me,” Gemma replied.

“Ye-ah. It wasn’t my most shining moment and I’d like to forget it. He’s all yours,” you tease, raising your eyebrows up and down.

“Been there. Done that,” she replied.

“Hey! I’m right here!” Travis interjected.

You put an arm around his shoulders and pulled him closer to you. “You’re so pretty.”

“Brat,” he replied.

“I just want a beer,” Ian said, his head resting on the table top.

Travis sprung out of his seat and made his way to the bar to grab Ian his beer because waiting for the server to arrive was just too many minutes wasted.

“So, you’re really done?” Gemma asked, mouth immediately going back to the straw in her glass. Some sort of mojito you thought.

“Mhm. It was for the best. The whole lying thing just was too much.”

During the last week of filming for Not Yours, you gave your notice. You kept it simple that you had some family things going on so you couldn’t commit for the next film. Barbara Floyd, the head of production told you that you had a standing offer there whenever you were ready. It was nice having steady income and influx of films being shot, but you couldn’t continue to work for an employer like that.

Travis returned with three pints, passing one to Ian and yourself.

“Thanks, Trav,” you grinned.

Ian chugged the glass of beer half way down before turning to look at Travis. “Yeah, thank you.” The server stopped by at that moment to check on the table. “One more please.” You chuckled softly causing Ian to look at you. “Anyone else?”

“No, we’re good,” you chuckled again.

“What’s next then?” Gemma continued.

“A low budget, independent. But it’s not a student film. I’ve officially retired from those.”

“Have you official retired from bartending?” Travis asked, knocking an elbow into your side.

“Probably not. It will be my go-to between jobs, probably until I retire.”

**

The drive to Studio City during rush hour was torture. But truly, it was always rush hour in LA. You really couldn’t complain as the film was being entirely shot in Los Angeles. As much as you did like to visit a new location, sometimes you just wanted your own bed.

With a few worthless honks and a hand gesture you would deny later, you found yourself parked and walking with Jonathan to the shared space amongst the production crew. Jonathan was executive producer and welcoming party for the cast and crew of currently titled, Untitled. Hopefully it would be named before filming wrapped. Being that it was an independent and rather short on funds from what you could tell, you were the sole script supervisor.

“And this is your desk!”

You gave Jonathan the politest smile you could muster. “Perfect.”

It really wasn’t. While your “office” in Vancouver was a cubical, it was modern and new. You didn’t even have walls. It was a small table about the width of two cookie sheets. Spaced on either side of you with about thee feet apart were two other tables for other production crew. At least you figured.

“Great. We are firing on all cylinders today with a table read this afternoon. We hope to start filming tomorrow,” Jonathan added.

“I’ll be ready.”

“That’s what I like to hear. I’m just down the hall if you need me. You have my number?”

“Yep. I should be set, but we’ll know more after the read through.”

Jonathan clapped his hands together, spun around and headed down the tight hallway, presumably to his own table. Maybe it was an office. An executive producer at the very least should have a cubical.

**

A large banquet table was set up in the middle of sound stage B with more than a dozen chairs for the cast around it. A row of chairs for the producers, the screen writer, director, assistant director, yourself, and a few others circled around the outside. You were a few minutes early per the usual, chatting with the small crew you had just been introduced to. You were getting aquatinted with Simone, the assistant director that was seated to your left when the cast started to trickle in. If you were being honest, you hadn’t looked in to any of the actors that were cast. You had taken on the job last minute when the previous script supervisor had backed out. It was less than a week to prepare, so you spent that time reading through the script a few times and rescuing Joanna and Ian from each other.

Simone had just given you a run down of all the films she had worked on as the two of you compared friends and colleagues in common when you felt someone lightly squeeze your knee. The offending knee groper walked on as your eyes trailed up to see Scott Evans make his way to a chair on the other side of the table. He sent you a wink and you audible gasped.

Fuck. This is going to be weird.

Really, it was only you that was being weird. Scott had squeezed your knee and gave you a friendly wink. But still. Had you known he was going to be in this film, you would have passed on the project. The last thing you wanted to do was make it awkward for him or his brother.

With the reading finished, you briefly addressed the actors letting them know where your desk was located and to come to you with any questions. When no one said anything, you gave a smile and quickly made your escape. Chris didn’t want to speak to you anymore. He made that perfectly clear. Keeping Scott at arms-length would be respecting that.

**

Scott didn’t film the first week of shooting. It helped ease your nervous stomach knowing you wouldn’t run into him on set or have to provide notes after a scene was shot. You knew he’d be filming the next week, but at least you had the weekend to freak out and hopefully you could just deal with it on Monday.

Cleaning up your table slash desk for the weekend took all but five seconds. Since it wasn’t an enclosed space, you left all personal items including Mr. Fern at home. He was blossoming much to your surprise.

“Hey Y/N.”

You knew that voice. There was no mistaking it. You looked up from your bag you were currently stuffing with your laptop to see Scott in front of you.

“Uh…”

Say something! Anything!

“Hey there Scott. How’s it goin’?”

Yep. You were talented at the art of speaking.

Scott chuckled softly, pulling up a chair from the empty table next to you. “Relax. I come in peace.” You took a shuddered breath. “I’m happy to see you on set. You come with high praise not only from my brother, but from other people you’ve worked with.”

“I doubt that. Your brother is not exactly my biggest fan.”

“I meant work wise sweetie. He can’t deny that.”

You shrugged a shoulder. “Honestly, I didn’t know you were in this film. I took the job when someone dropped out. I’m not like stalking you or trying to get to your brother.” Your bottom lip going between your teeth as soon as you finished your thought.

Scott chuckled again. Shook his head and propped it between his hands, resting his elbows on your table. “You’re cute.”

“Well, I just…I just don’t want to give you the wrong impression is all.”

“You’re not. I never thought that,” he sighed, smile dropping for a second. “Chris is thick headed. I don’t even care if you repeat that. While I think it sucks you lied, I think it sucks that a company also operates like that,” he said.

“Well, maybe they were right.” Scott lifts an eyebrow at this. “What I mean is, Chris and me did get close. Too close.”

Scott sits up straight, hands going to his knees. “But that’s not always the case. Sometimes people are going to fall for each other whether it’s frowned up or not. Listen. My brother has been pretty grumpy for the last couple of months. I was frankly happy that filming started this week because I needed a break from him. He’ll come around. Don’t give up on this.”

You nodded and stood up from your seat. “Walk me out?”

“You got it.”

Despite what Scott had said, you weren’t too sure. Yes, you kissed him and boy, was that quite the kiss. But he didn’t know how you felt. You never got to say the words. And he made it perfectly clear that the two of you shouldn’t speak to each other.

**

After a month and a half of filming, you were officially on vacation. Well, not really. You just didn’t have another film lined up at the moment. Scott had been nothing but a peach during the shoot. He was as sweet as pie and kept you quite entertained. You weren’t quite sure if you were happy or disappointed that Chris never came to visit Scott on set. In all honesty, you probably would have shutdown and hid, so it was probably for the best that he didn’t. You didn’t pry, but Scott had offered up that Chris had been in Boston, so it made sense he wasn’t around.

You were back to bartending part time. It was something to do with your free time and it was nice to have extra cash in your pocket. Thankfully, you were a saver and lived in a one-bedroom rental, so you could afford to take a few months off.

In your free time you were with your friends. Joanna’s mood swings had subsided and Ian didn’t call you for backup as much as he had been. You didn’t necessarily think she had mood swings. She had a rough few months with bouts of sickness and her emotions were running high. But it was nice to be able to go to her house and have fun like you used to.

“Trav, could you pass me the popcorn?”

He shook his head no, holding the bowl against his chest. “You and Gem are just going to eat it all and not share. I know you two.”

“Wow... I am hurt.”

“No you’re not,” he chuckled.

“I promise to make more after we all finish this bowl.”

“No, you won’t,” Gemma whispered beside you.

You knocked her with your elbow and shushed her quietly. Travis stood and passed you the bowl.

“I’ll go make my own,” he muttered before walking to the kitchen.

You let out a loud laugh, taking a large handful of popcorn and shoving it in your mouth.

Jana laid on the couch across from you with her feet in Ian’s lap. He was rubbing them with a peaceful look on his face while Jana smiled at him. They were happy and that’s all you wanted. You hoped that someday you’d find your person.

Your phone buzzed on the coffee table in front of you. Reaching for a napkin, you wiped the butter off your hands before picking it up.

Scott: Whatcha doin’?

Y/N: At my friend’s house. I work tonight.

Scott: That bites. You work all week?

Y/N: Tonight, tomorrow, and Friday. What are you up to?

Scott: Being lazy. Thinking about a solo dance party.

You smiled at his text.

Y/N: I could really go for one of those.

Y/N: Are you going to be in town for a while?

Scott: A couple of weeks at least.

Y/N: Want to grab lunch next week?

Scott: Sounds good angel. Let me know when.

Y/N: Will do. Have fun with your dance party.

**

Tuesdays were generally quiet, but people seemed to tip better. You weren’t sure if it was because patrons knew your tips would be few and far between or if the Tuesday crowd was just generous.

You had a tall can of energy drink behind the bar that you snuck sips from as the night went on. You knew it wasn’t healthy, but staying up until three in the morning on the nights you worked wasn’t easy. Making it to midnight was no problem, but after that, you were dead on your feet. It was only eight and you were already dragging. Grabbing the can, you brought it to your lips taking a pull.

“Those things will kill you.”

You put the can down and spun around to face the bar top. Your stomach dropped as you gripped the edge of the counter to keep yourself standing.

“Chris,” you whispered.

“Hey,” he said softly, pulling his black ballcap low on his face.

“Uh, hi?”

What the fuck is he doing here?

“Can I get a beer?” he asked. You stared blankly at him as he took a seat in the stool directly in front of you. “Whatever IPA you have on tap.”

You couldn’t move. Chris was here and speaking to you as if this was an everyday occurrence.

“Sweetheart?”

“Uhhh. IPA?” you asked, somehow getting your voice back.

Chris nodded his head. He interlaced his fingers and rested his hands on the bar. You walked to the far side of the bar to give yourself a minute to breathe. It didn’t matter than there were two IPAs on tap two feet from where he sat, the taps on the far end is where you went. You filled the glass and gave yourself an extra ten seconds to calm down. This was Chris. Your friend Chris who you were crazy about and he was crazy about you. At least he once was. You on the other hand were still crazy about him. You could deal with him in your bar for fifteen minutes or however long it takes him to finish his drink.  

You walked back the length of the bar, grabbing a coaster and setting both in front of him.

“What are you doing here, Chris?”

He took a quick sip, licking the foam from his lips before setting the glass back down. “Straight to the point. I can deal with that. Uh, Scott told me you worked here.”

Scott. You internally rolled your eyes.

“That’s why he asked about my work schedule yesterday.”

Chris cringed a little bit, shrugging both shoulders. “I asked him to. I should have just called you, but I wasn’t sure if you would have picked up for me.”

This time you actually rolled your eyes. “I would have taken your call. You’re the one that doesn’t want to be my friend anymore.” It came out way harsher than you meant it to. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.” You shook your head, placing your elbows on the bar top and leaned in. “I thought about what I’d say if I saw you again and that wasn’t it. What I meant is I’m sorry. When you and I became friends, I should have told you what was going on, but I was scared. It seemed like such an innocent lie in the beginning but it kept getting bigger. I trusted you, but when it came down to it, I didn’t honor that trust and I’m sorry. I never meant to hurt you.”

Chris visible relaxed, his back hunching as he rested his forearms on the bar. “Sweetheart,” he started. “This isn’t all on you. I get why you didn’t want to tell me and while I wish you would have, I can’t hold that against you. I was hurt. Once we started hanging out, I started to fall for you even though I knew I shouldn’t. It was hard, so hard to hold back and respect the relationship I thought you had. So, it hurt when I found out it wasn’t real. But I shouldn’t have pushed you away that I had. I wish I hadn’t sent you that text message after ignoring you for weeks. So, what I’m trying to say is I’m sorry too. I’d like for us to be friends again.”

Friends. Not exactly what you hoped for, but you’d take Chris back in your life anyway you could get him.

“I would like that,” you said, offering him a small smile. “I’ll be right back.”

A couple had come in and taken a seat at table. You walked over, grabbing their drink orders before returning to the bar. It was probably the quickest margarita over ice and whiskey coke you’ve ever made, but you were walking on air at the moment. Chris wanted to be friends again.

Chris had apparently chugged his beer in the few minutes you were gone. You guessed he was just as nervous as you were about this conversation. “One more?” you asked, coming to stand in front of him again.

“Please.”

This time you went to the taps closest to him. You filled a new glass and stuck his old in the dishwasher.

“How long are you in town?” you asked.

“Just a couple of weeks. I actually wanted to talk to you about that.” You leaned on your forearms as you waited for him to continue. “I start shooting a new movie in a few months. I’m directing again.”

Your face lit up at his news. “That’s great Chris. Are you starring too?”

He took a sip from the glass and nodded his head. “I am. Which is the problem.” You crinkled your brow and quirked your mouth to the side. “See, if I’m directing, it’s kind of hard for me to give myself notes and keep me in line.”

“Yeah, you are a tough one to work with,” you sassed.

Chris smiled, letting his eyes go soft. “So, I need a good script supervisor. Any chance you know of one that doesn’t currently have a new film lined up?”

You smiled brightly before giving him an intense stare. “It’s not in Canada in the winter is it?”

“Nah. New England in the fall. What do you say, Y/N?”

You drummed your hands on the bar. “I’ll take it.”

**

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[charincharge]

Kiss And Cry, Part 4

jurdan figure skating au > masterlist

AN: I told you I’d be back soon! And I AM. In case you couldn’t tell... things are getting a little... NSFW (just like... a smidge lol, nothing too major). Anyway. Things will be heating up realllly soon. Hope you enjoy. Look forward to hearing your thoughts on this one....

Madoc canceled practice for the rest of the week, which, with only two months until Nationals, was making Jude extremely nervous. She understood that Nicasia’s accident had taken Cardan out of the running, which Madoc was clearly upset about, but that didn’t mean that Jude and Locke could take it easy.

Jude made sure that Locke was back on the ice with her that day. She couldn’t slack off and lose steam now. They were so close.

Locke panted heavily as they wrapped up their practice. Sweat dripped down both their foreheads, muscles aching with fatigue.

Jude hopped off the ice and grabbed her phone, which had been recording their last run through, and she pressed play.

“You need to work on your landings,” Jude pointed to Locke’s shaky footwork after their double axel. “And here,” she pointed to his hand, which had fumbled around her hip while lifting her. “Hand to my waist, not my hip.”

Jude had no problem going through their game tape, looking for weaknesses and flaws. She would look for anything they could practice to oblivion to smooth out until they were nothing but icy perfection. This year she would be placing and making it to Worlds. There was no doubt in her mind.

Jude was so engrossed in the playback, she barely noticed anyone hovering behind her until she heard Cardan’s smooth voice. “You’re half a turn short there,” he pointed out.

“No, I’m not,” Jude said, indignant. She was sure Cardan had just come to annoy her. Why else would he be there? It wasn’t like he had a partner to practice with. Shouldn’t he be in the hospital at his best friend’s side?

“You want to win, right?” He paused. “Your triple was only two and a half.”

Jude rewound the video and replayed. He was right. She was. Damn it.

“The judges take off serious points for shit like that,” he said, flicking his dark hair out of his eyes. Jude fully turned to take him in, expecting him to look at least somewhat rattled from the events of yesterday, but Cardan was just as infuriatingly polished as if nothing had happened. His concentrated mask of confidence was only betrayed by the faintest traces of dark circles beneath his eyes.

“Good catch, Cardan,” Locke fawned, the admiration thick on his tongue. Disgusting. As if Cardan needed more people pining over him. It seemed now that Nicasia was out of the picture that Locke wanted to be tagged in. Unrelatable.

“I’m all about teamwork,” Cardan replied with a wink, and Jude had to restrain from rolling her eyes at the soft pink blush that traveled up Locke’s neck and ears.

“I assumed you’d be off the team,” Jude said.

“Sorry to disappoint,” Cardan said with a shrug.

“Who’s the unlucky soul who gets to partner you now?” Jude asked, her curiosity getting the better of her.

Cardan blinked twice, his thick fringe of lashes practically batting up and down at her, as he cocked his head. “I’m looking right at her.”

Jude shook her head. She couldn’t have heard him right. “What?” she asked.

“I didn’t realize you were dumb, too,” Cardan snickered, and a wave of fury took over Jude as she walked toward him.

His smirk fell from his face as she grew closer. He instinctively backed up a step until his calves were pressed against the bleachers. Nowhere left to go, Jude pressed her hand against his chest, just barely at the base of his neck, their faces merely inches as she seethed wildly.

“I already have a partner.” She looked over her shoulder at Locke, whose blush had faded, and he was looking pallid beneath the overhead fluorescent lights of the rink. “And a routine.”

She looked back at Cardan, his throat bobbing with a slow swallow as he wrapped his hand around hers and removed it from where it was dangerously close to strangling him.

“Yes, well,” Cardan cleared his throat. “Now you’ll be learning a new one.”

Blood rushed to Jude’s ears as she rushed to her cellphone to call her Coach. It went straight to voicemail, and Jude went to call back again when Madoc appeared, a scowl across his face as he made his way toward the three skaters.

“Madoc!” Jude began, but he held up his hand firmly.

“First of all,” Madoc sighed. “I thought I made it clear practice was canceled this week. But, since Garrett called me when you arrived, I thought I should show up and clear the air.”

Jude groaned. Garrett, the rink’s manager, was always getting the best gossip from befriending the skaters. It figured that he’d be reporting back to Madoc. Jude would bet there was even money in it for him. She went to complain again – there was no way she would leave Locke and skate with Cardan – but Madoc cut her off.

“I understand these are… not normal circumstances,” Madoc said. “But Cardan still wants to compete.”

“So find someone else,” Jude argued. “There are a billion skaters out who would love to be on our team.”

“Not who I trust to skate in Nationals,” Madoc snapped, and Jude was fairly certain that was the closest Madoc had ever come to complimenting her. He was trying to soften her up. Still, she remained resolute.

“I can’t skate with him.”

Madoc’s eyes narrowed. “That remains to be seen.” Jude opened her mouth to protest again, but Madoc silenced her. “Stop. You will continue to practice your routines with Locke, but you will also learn Nicasia’s parts in her routines with Cardan. At the end of four weeks, I will decide which pairing will compete at Nationals.”

Jude snapped her mouth shut. So, it wasn’t a definite. She could still skate with Locke. She just had to make sure that Madoc saw they were the better pair.

“Jude and Cardan, you will report to the studio tomorrow morning, so Jude can start learning the choreography off the ice,” Madoc began. “Then, you will report to the ice to keep practicing with Locke in the afternoons. Good?”

Jude nodded succinctly.

Satisfied, Madoc stalked off, leaving the skaters to deal with each other.

Jude expected Locke to look downtrodden by the prospect of a competition with Cardan, but he seemed to be glowing with excitement.

“So, we’re still on the same team, then,” Locke smiled. “For a few more weeks, at least.”

His grin widened as Cardan wrapped his arm around Locke’s shoulders and smirked at him coyly. “Please, Locke, we’re always on the same team in my heart.” Cardan placed his hand across his chest, clutching at his shirt, as he winked again.

Jude thought Locke was going to pass out with how thick Cardan was laying on his flirting, and Jude couldn’t stop the large roll of her eyes.

“Oh please. Nicasia’s been in the hospital for all of one day, and you’re already trying to get your dick wet?” She thought she saw him frown for the smallest second, but it was gone before she could even process it, so she kept berating him, hoping she could pin that frown there. “You can’t even go a few hours, huh?” she snipped.

“Language, Jude,” Cardan feigned shock as he chastised her and wrapped his arm more tightly around Locke, pulling him closer. “Don’t be jealous.”

“You could not pay me to touch you,” Jude scoffed. “Who even knows where that thing has been.” She didn’t want to hear another retort from Cardan and turned on her heel, heading to the locker room to shower, but Cardan shouted after her anyway.

“Seems like someone’s anxious to find out.” He laughed. “Please, Jude, you don’t have to pretend you don’t want me.”

She growled under her breath but didn’t turn around. But his words sloshed around her head as she showered off. She hated that he’d gotten in the last word. She knew it was his mission in life to drive her insane. And though she wouldn’t usually dare to, she decided she couldn’t ignore this one, couldn’t let him think she was remotely interested. She needed to squash that down before it became a thing. Especially if they were going to be skating together. She needed to set some boundaries. Some rules.

When she made it back out to the rink, Cardan was nowhere to be found. But his overly large SUV, that was most definitely overcompensating for something, was still in the lot.

So, against her better judgement, Jude made her way into the mens’ locker room.

She paused as soon as she entered, the realization that she’d made a grave mistake hitting her as soon as the door closed behind her. Because in front of her, was a bare-chested Cardan, head thrown back in ecstasy, leaning against the green lockers, dark eyes closed and lashes fluttering against his flushed cheeks, and fingers knotted in the head of red hair kneeling on the cold ground between his knees.

Jude backed into the door, a wave of embarrassment and horror washing over her as she watched Locke’s head bob up and down over his lap, urged by Cardan’s tight grip. She knew that Locke had been interested, but she hadn’t realized both of them would work so fast. And she hadn’t realized that Cardan would take him up on it. She wondered if they’d even kissed, or if they’d just gone straight to this. She felt dizzy and nauseous, the walls closing in on her the longer she looked. She couldn’t breathe.

Cardan’s naked torso glinted with droplets of water, which fell from his dark waves, rolling over his defined chest, marked by a steel bar through each nipple, and down the thin path of hair that led to where Locke’s face was covering. But from what she could see, it turned out the SUV was in fact, not overcompensating for anything.

A hot blush streaked across Jude’s cheeks and chest. Surely, her face was on fire with how hot she suddenly felt. Sweat dampened her palms, and her heartbeat thundered loudly in her ears, trying to drown out the indecent sounds of Locke’s mouth slurping and sucking.

Jude reached for the door, fumbling with her clammy fingers, but her hand slid as she turned the knob, and Cardan’s eyes opened slowly, a lazy smile on his face, his dark eyes staring straight at her, as if he expected her there.

He didn’t take his eyes off of her, didn’t stop his measured pace, as Locke worked him. Cardan simply curled his lips up into an uneven smile, his chin lifting slightly in her direction. His eyes, blown out with lust ,stared her down, pinned her where she stood, and it was only when he closed his eyes again and moaned loudly that Jude finally regained her sanity.

The door pushed open easily beneath her grasp, and Jude barely had enough sense to grab her bag before running out to the parking lot.

The cold winter afternoon felt like knives against her flushed cheeks. She breathed hard, willing the image of Cardan with his pants around his ankles to subside from her brain, but it was useless. That cocky smile, that blissed out expression would haunt her forever.

Jude took another shower when she got home, but even scrubbing her skin raw didn’t help. She felt unhinged. Dirty. Upset. She couldn’t shake her unease all through the rest of the afternoon and barely ate at dinner, much to Madoc’s delight.

And as Jude’s body finally gave way to unconsciousness that night, her dreams were plagued with dark eyes, lithe bodies slick with wet, and coy smiles.

~*~*~*~*~

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[adrianasunderworld]

More gym leader headcanons

Allister

Is Beas baby cousin. Shes like a big sister to him and is one of the few people he will take his mask off around.

Used to be bullied in school. Some kids a couple grades up called him creepy and a weirdo. He eventually broke down and told Bea about it. The bullies didn't bother him anymore after that.

He likes to play tea party with his mom and pokemon. Hes a perfect gentleman and always pulls out the chair for her.

His parents want to keep their lives outside the gym as private as possible. So they aren't in the public eye often. Most people picture Allisters parents as an Addams family type couple. But in reality they're pretty chipper and normal. His dad runs a martial arts studio with his brother, Beas dad. His mom is a librarian. She has pink glasses so her and her clefairy can match. 

All the gym leaders are very nice to him, so he isn't as shy around them as he once was. He definitely thinks Piers is the coolest one because of his punk style. One time Piers saw how Allister stared at his spikey jewelry and gave him one of his wrist bands. Allister wore it for two weeks straight.

He definitely thinks Leon and Raihan are cool too. So confident and themselves, he wants to be more like that when he grows up. He still isn't quite used to crowds and the noise though. So if Bea isn't at an event he'll latch onto one of them. After all they're two of the strongest trainers in the region,if anyone can protect him, its them. They don't mind, it's rather cute.

Melony is friends with his parents, and is the resident Leauge Mom. If something is overwhelming Allister, she the first to comfort and hug him.

Marnie

Marnie really likes clothes. Spikemuth doesn't have much in terms of shopping, and any money for clothes that weren't second hand is a recent thing for her. So the first thing Marnie did when she went to Motostoke was to visit as many boutiques as possible.

The first thing she fell in love with and bought were her boots. They were so cool, and shiny, and new. She almost felt guilty for splurging in them, but she loved them so much that it outweighed the buyer's guilt.

Marnie can belt out heavy metal like nothing. Shes like Aggretsuko, turn it off and on like nothing. 

Loves Hello Skitty. Has a small collection of merch back home. 

After becoming gym leader, she hit it off really well with Nessa. Nessa found out how much Marnie liked clothes and let her go through her closet and let her keep what she wanted. (Nessa has a lot of stuff she got to keep from shoots or brands sent to her,)

If you see any gym leaders wearing black and pink nail polish: Marnie did it. No one is safe from her puppy dog eyes. 

Marnie grew up going to her brothers shows. All the crew and Piers band members recognize her and treat her like an honorary sister. She always has a VIP backstage pass wherever Piers goes. If you're good enough friends with her, you can be her plus one.

She really likes desserts with fruit in them. Especially strawberries. 

She likes to watch doll repaints.

Gordie

Best hype man you could ever ask for. Always cheering for his friends.

Used to help his mom bake all the time for special occasions. He still enjoys it, and always makes his little siblings cakes for their birthdays. He's contemplating trying to do the great Galar bake off when the gym challenge is over.

His sister is going to do the challenge next year. She doesn't know how to tell their mom she doesn't want to be an ice trainer either. She wants to experiment with electric and fairy. Gordie told her he'll help her train and catch her pokemon, he'll deal with mom when she decides to tell her.

Is good with kids. He's very charismatic and takes care of his siblings all the time. Though that doesn't mean he enjoys being treated like a walking daycare by his moms friends and relatives.

Has a bad habit of staying up late. You think those glasses are to look cool? Nope. Covering the dark circles under his eyes.

His hair is his pride and joy and puts in a great deal of effort and products to maintain it.

Milo

Sensitive skin. Why do you think his hat is so big? He could be outside for ten minutes and already pink. Sunscreen is his constant companion.

Was a bit shy and easily pushed around as a kid. Nessa came to his defense once and have been friends ever since. She proclaimed herself his rival, so he always has someone to encourage him to be stronger.

His family's farm goes back at least four generations. He's very proud of his family's business. They raised the best wooloo in Galar, you won't find softer wool anywhere else.

Is a granny's boy. His Nana always bakes something and knits him sweaters. And Milo is always happy to visit her and lend her pokemon to keep her company.

I oblivious to anyone's advances. He always sees the good in everyone and always assumes someone is just being friendly. So he sucks at realizing hes being flirted with. He and Leon form the 'What is a hint?' Squad.

Hug life is Milo life. Hes a big ball of love and everyone gets a hug when they see him. 

His house is very cozy. Warm homemade blankets, soft pokemon plushes on the couch, a fire in the evening. Milo loves having company and company love chilling in Milos house. There's wooloo and yampers everywhere. You'll never want to leave.

Melony

Melony is a very loving mother. Shes just very stubborn, and will take a great deal to convince her when she has already set her mind to something. Hence the falling  out with Gordie.

Has always been a flirt. She never means any harm though. 

Is a widow. Her spouse passed a couple years ago. Shes healed for the most part but still wears her ring for sentimental reasons.

Used to figure skate competitively as a teenager. She quit to become gym leader. But still took the very strict coaching methods her skating instructors used and applied it to battles.

The gym is used as an ice skating rink when not being used for battles. They give lessons for skating and ice hockey. It's a popular afterschool place for the kids of Circhester.

Many people have a crush on Melony and shes very aware of it. She just chooses not to comment. Though it does help her flirt to get her way. 

Flattering will get you no where with her. Shes heard every line and can tell when you want something. Melony may be able to flirt to get her way, but dont think for a moment that shes that easily swayed.

[cherrypieships]

All the questions with Steve? >:3c

HOOOOOOOOLY FUCK OKAY this got super long so buckle up! Thank you so much for the ask!!! 💖💗💝💞💓💘💕✨🥰🥰🥰

1) Describe your f/o’s eyes. 

Steve... my boy... the epitome of puppy dog eyes. They’re so big and brown and sparkly like you know that scene in s2 in the bathroom where he looks absolutely heartbroken? Yeah it sucks but his eyes are SO PRETTY. Literally this emoji 🥺

2) Describe your f/o’s voice. 

Steve’s voice could LULL ME TO SLEEP!!!!! It’s so soft. And his singing voice (when he tries) isn’t too bad, either!! Of course he usually plays the chaotic evil route and uses his pretty voice to scream-sing rather than actually sing. I personally think he loves to hum under his breath a lot too!

3) Describe your f/o’s hair. 

Oh? Steve’s hair? Steve ‘The Hair’ Harrington? Say less.

His hair? Perfect. Godly. We know this. He keeps it meticulously groomed at all times. He has an entire hair care routine and even does a deep conditioning treatment from time to time to keep it healthy.

You’d think because of this he’d be really irritated when people touch it right? WRONG. He loves when I touch his hair!! Touch is his love language and nothing relaxes and soothes him more than lying his head in my lap and letting me play with his hair. It’s really soft too!

4) Describe your f/o’s humor. 

Steve’s humor is basically “kissing the homies goodnight” type humor. He loves jokes about being queer (he’s bi this is not up for debate), he loves himbo jokes (as king of the himbos), and he loves tiktok. I personally think he would rack up a huge tiktok following because he’s so cute tbh. Also very big on “fuck them kids” jokes because he LOVES kids but also fuck them kids y’know?

5) Describe your f/o’s lips. 

🥺 steve’s lips are another thing he cares a lot about. He loves giving me kissies and he knows he gotta keep them lips nice and soft!! He has a chapstick collection for sure.

But honestly I could talk about his lips for days. They’re so full and pink, and the way they fit his face when he smiles!! Wow!!!!!!

6) Describe your f/o’s arms. 

Steve’s. Arms. They are so good. 10/10 arms. He likes to hold me in them. Very warm and sturdy. Yes. That s3 promo pic of him, Dustin, and Robin where he’s wearing a watch and crossing his arms? Head empty, no thoughts, only steve arm.

7) Describe your f/o’s hands. 

Steve’s hands are actually one of my favorite things about him!! They’re so elegant and look so nice to hold! He definitely keeps them nice and moisturized because he’s a skincare baddie. He also would let me paint his nails after I point out how pretty he would look in black nail polish.

8) Describe your f/o’s smile.

Steve’s smile could save the marine wildlife okay. He has a few different smiles and they are all so pretty. When he’s really happy, it’s always a full, open-mouthed smile, usually accompanied by a laugh. When he’s smitten, it’s a close-lipped smile with big round puppy-dog eyes. When he’s daydreaming, it’s a sort of lopsided smile. All very beautiful, all very genuine.

9) Describe your f/o’s hugs.

My mans gives the most comforting hugs ever. He’s warm and firm, someone you can absolutely melt against and he’ll give you the same energy right back. Every hug is genuine and the best he can give in that moment. He likes to rest his chin on top of my head or nuzzle into my hair. He’s also never the first person to pull away from a hug!

10) Describe your f/o’s laugh.

His laugh is so bubbly!!! He has his practiced laugh, that he worked on for years to look cool in front of girls and his friends, but his real laugh is way higher in pitch. It’s almost like a cackle, honestly, it’s so pure!!!

11) Describe your f/o’s stature.

Okay. So. Steve is a tall-ish boy. I typically put him at about 5’11”, which makes him a full foot taller than me. He used to be a little insecure that he never hit 6 feet, but he honestly kinda likes that he doesn’t have to bend down as much to kiss me :3c

12) Describe your f/o’s movement.

Steve is very light on his feet. He’s clumsy, sure, but he moves fast. He’s flighty and has really good instincts, and when he puts his mind to it he can use that skillset to his advantage. He’s just a fast boy. Brain go brr body go brrr that’s adhd babey!!

13) Describe your f/o’s legs.

Steve’s thighs. I am looking respectfully. That is all.

14) Describe your f/o’s style. 

His style varies. Sometimes it is preppy boy extraordinaire (button downs, striped shirts, khakis), sometimes it’s lawful pretty boy (t-shirts, jeans), and sometimes it is CHAOTIC HOT (ripped jeans, shirts with the sleeves rolled up, that vest for some reason). His closet is a nightmare.

15) Describe anything else about your f/o.

I’m gonna describe his music taste! Obviously it is no secret that Steve is a swiftie (his fav album is 1989 in case you were wondering). But! His music taste does not end there! Oh no! He is a music connoisseur! Kinda. His other favorites include One Direction, Michael Jackson, Megan thee Stallion, and Studio Killers.

He honestly hates people who think pop music is a “lesser genre” because he thinks that not all songs have to be musical genius in order to have value okay! Some things can just be fun! Not everything has to be worthy of The Cure okay, Jonathan! They have had many a playful fight over this.

[artificialqueens]

Girls Interrupted, Chapter 2: She Wants To Dance Like Uma Thurman, But She Can’t (Vatya) 2/2 - Maeve

A/N: Hi, it’s Maeve here, and holy fuck this is long! Sorry for the wait, everyone, it’s been a real time. I’ll admit that I spent a lot of time collecting firsthand accounts of real teen parties because homegirl has never been to one of the cool kid ones. I feel no personal shame! I hope you all enjoy it. I’m a one woman show over here, but I’ve tried to be as accurate as possible with the characterization of the queens. There are some parts of this chapter that might be a little confusing, but that’s because the story is told through Katya’s eyes and she doesn’t always have all of the information. She will soon, though! As always, constructive criticism (really feedback of any kind) is welcome. If there’s interest, I’ll drop my sideblog one of these days. Here’s some petty teenage bullshit to take your mind off of the outside world.

What do normal people wear? What’s ‘in’ with the youths? Katya furrowed her brow. She grew out of following trends in middle school. The clothes weren’t her, and they didn’t magically assimilate her into a friend group either. So Katya was no manic pixie dream girl, more of a manic sexy carny And that was okay…most of the time. There would be a wide variety of teens at the party—Alaska ran in many different circles—but all of them had eyes, and Katya wasn’t about to make Alaska question her judgement over unironically worn Hawaiian print. She’d have to pass for artistically different. Dresses were risky, so Katya opted for a pair of skintight black denim shorts and a well-worn Warner Brothers Studios shirt. A good french tuck and a statement jacket were just enough to polish off her shabby-chic ensemble. It would have to be good enough.

Katya’s freshly washed hair had dried in loose waves that framed her face beautifully. Two things she refused to guilt herself into were shaving her legs and putting on makeup, and she wore her bangs down to hide the hairline she was so self-conscious about. It wasn’t like she was trying to impress anyone. Katya had given up on that a long, long time ago. She glanced at the clock. It was only a few minutes past 6:00. Living in a constant state of perpetual anxiety was a real bitch.

Katya sighed, Wheel of Fortune and Diet Coke it is. Her parents were at the neighborhood’s annual Back to School Barbecue, so she had the entire house to herself. She hoped there would be a familiar face or two—or at the very least caffeine—at Alaska’s house.

Katya could hear the music coming from the inside of Alaska’s house through her massive front door. It was a hot and humid evening, yet Katya chose to linger in the yard. She wasn’t the first one there, and she wouldn’t be the last one, either; there was just something about crossing the solid oak barrier that made her presence…pressing. Awkward, even.

Alaska wouldn’t have invited you if she didn’t want you to be here, Katya reminded herself. She knew this was true—Alaska Honard was an absolute sweetheart—but her paranoia got the best of her. She pulled out her phone and sent a message to ‘Bianca del Realest’:

I’m outside. Walk me in? I don’t wanna know if pigs’ blood comes out of denim.

Her phone vibrated seconds later with a response from Bianca:

Pussy.

Soon, the door opened, revealing a smug Bianca del Rio. Katya grinned, “Yes, I do have a pussy, mama, and I’m serving fish all night.”

Bianca howled, “I don’t put things in me if I don’t know where they’ve been, and you’re a filthy whore.”

“You rotted cunt! That was a rash, not a herpes sore!” Katya protested.

“Just get your ass in here, Zamo, before the neighbors call the police to report a solicitor on the premises,” Bianca stepped aside so Katya could enter.

The first thing she saw was an ornately framed oil painting of Alaska and her family. It had to be at least her height. “Holy mother of pearl…” Katya gaped.

“Mother of Alaska, actually. Father and sister, too,” Bianca corrected. Katya gave her a shove. “What? I do this out of love, honey.” The blonde rolled her eyes. “Come on, there’s someone I want you to meet,” Bianca grabbed hold of Katya’s arm and steered her towards the kitchen.

Alaska’s kitchen—which was a literal gourmet kitchen—was relatively empty save for an entire island of snacks and several coolers with drinks. She could still feel the thrum of the bass in her teeth, but the walls muffled the music’s full volume. What Katya found most shocking was actually who was in the kitchen. Trixie Mattel was leaning against the sink in a pair of light wash jeans and a flowing pink top.

Wow, Katya’s eyes went wide. She was in the same room as Trixie Mattel, about to be introduced by their apparently mutual friend, and she desperately needed to be able to pull herself together.

“Oh, honey, send in the clowns!” Trixie exclaimed, noticing Bianca’s return.

“I prefer to be called an erotic clown,” Bianca shot back. Katya snorted. “This is the creature I was telling you about.” Bianca gave Katya a small shove forward.

“Hi, I’m the chemical burn from the spiral perm, Trixie Mattel,” Trixie introduced herself extending a well-manicured hand. “I sit across from you in English, but we’ve never really talked.”

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova. But your dad just calls me Katya,” Katya winked and took Trixie’s hand, gently kissing her knuckles. Inside her head, Katya was screaming, Fuuuuuuuck. However, Trixie’s smile only grew. The life-sized Barbie doubled over with laughter.

Trixie turned to Bianca, “I’ll keep her!” Katya scrunched up her nose. She didn’t realize she was for sale.

“Just make sure to walk her often. She’s not house trained,” Bianca warned.

Katya wasn’t given the chance to retort because the door that connected the main room to the backyard flew open, and all three girls reached to cover their ears as Travis Scott’s voice grew three times as loud. An out-of-breath Jinkx Monsoon stood in the doorway, and her mouth began to move.

“What?” Bianca shouted over Sicko Mode.

Jinkx came further into the kitchen and screamed, “I said the hotshots just pulled up! If you don’t wanna get trampled, we should probab—”

“Bottoms up, bitches!” Willam shouted from somewhere in the hall. A cacophony of voices seemed to flood the space all at once, and then the kitchen was swarmed with all of the juniors on the cheer squad and football team. Hands and bodies were everywhere. Katya, standing at 5’1”, was swept away in the sea of future frat boys. Thankfully, the kitchen was only a stop on their route, and once the kitchen had been successfully raided, the four girls could get their bearings.

Jinkx straightened her dress. “Leave. I was going to say leave,” she finished her earlier thought and slumped against the kitchen island. “The real party’s out back. Now with added kegs.”

“Now, this I gotta see,” Bianca chuckled, “You in?” Katya shrugged and followed Bianca and Trixie past the horndogs sucking face in the living room and into Alaska’s massive backyard. She didn’t know what she’d gotten herself into, and she didn’t see it getting any better.

The glass doors let out onto a patio with a cabana and firepit. Stone steps led down to yet another seating area and a resort-style pool filled with floats, fountaints, and colored lights. There must’ve been at least a hundred people outside. She’d never seen so much illicit activity in one place. What was the word? Collusion? Collusion. Collusion vibes but not in a good way, Mama. We’re all going to hell, Katya swallowed thickly. The blonde was overwhelmed by the sweaty bodies, loud music, and flashing lights. Was this what a rave was like? The kegs by the pool were a happening place, and she planned to avoid them as much as possible.

When she looked to her right, she noticed Bianca had slipped away unnoticed, leaving her completely and utterly alone with one Trixie Mattel. Fuck. Again.

“Come get a drink with me!” Trixie insisted. She might not have been entirely comfortable alone with her crush, but tagging along was a significantly better option than hiding in a corner. The two pushed their way towards the booze. Trixie filled a red solo cup for Katya before grabbing one for herself and maneuvering them over to the poolside loveseat.

Katya’s drink felt awkward clutched in her hands. She knew that most highschoolers had experience with alcohol, but it was different watching her peers getting trashed. What’s the point? Katya wondered.

“That’s gonna get warm, you know?” Trixie snapped Katya out of her thoughts.

Katya gave her a sheepish smile, “I don’t really drink. Like at all. I just took it so you didn’t think I was lame.”

“Oh, honey,” Trixie began softly, “I would never judge you for something like that. Here, let me take that.” She made a grab for Katya’s cup, but Katya pulled it away.

“One sec!” Katya stuck two fingers of her free hand right into her beer and pulled them out. She saw the confusion on Trixie’s face and gave her a mischievous look. Katya took her beer fingers and wiped the alcohol across the pulse points on her neck. Playing it safe, she repeated the action until all the places she’d usual spray with perfume were sticky with beer. She was sure she smelled like a distillery. Perfect. Once again, Trixie made a grab for the cub, but another hand beat her to it. Alaska Honard in all her glory snatched it from Katya and drained its contents.

“Thanksss, Kati,” Alaska slurred. “Jus’ needed a lil’ liquid courage before I go on.” She swooped down to give Katya a sloppy kiss on the cheek. Alaska was sloshed. Her makeup was smudged she was swaying on her feet, and she smelled worse than Katya, who had just taken a bath in her beer.

“Go on what, Alaska?” Needless to say, Katya was a bit concerned. Because the two had done most of the work for their partner scene the previous class, Alaska and Katya were able to spend the day’s 3rd period chatting away. The demure girl from earlier was nowhere to be found. She was beginning to wonder if her friend had even processed her question when Alaska finally responded.

“‘M gonna be a star, Kati,” Alaska giggled. “Britney, bitch!” She then proceeded to fist up the fabric at the bottom of her dress and try to pull her black bodycon sequin gown up and over her body. Katya could only watch as she writhed around and made pitiful whining noises in her attempt to undress. “Off!” Alaska pouted, giving Katya her best puppy dog eyes.

Katya shared a look with Trixie before standing up and carefully spinning the blonde around. Her small hands were perfect for pulling down tiny zippers, and the dress slid down Alaska’s lithe body and pooled at her feet. Katya’s throat went dry.

Underneath her dress, Alaska wore a lacy, black strapless bra and a matching set of panties. Katya could not handle it. She didn’t mean to stare, but she couldn’t bring herself to look away. Soft, pale, flawless, Katya took in the beauty in front of her. Talk about body-ody-ody. Alaska was toned with the supple legs of a dancer—unfortunately, she lacked a dancer’s poise. Katya’s aneurism was cut short when the cheerleader stumbled trying to get out of the offending garment.

“Geez, Alaska,” Katya exclaimed, “Would you be more careful?”

“I may not be graceful…” Alaska trailed off, beginning to sway on her feet.

“I need my Lasky!” Detox shouted from the edge of the pool. Alaska visibly perked at her nickname and gave Katya a sloppy goodbye kiss on the cheek before teetering off towards Detox and Roy.

What the fuck? Katya raised her eyebrows. She turned to Trixie in search of an answer as to what just happened, but all the blonde had to offer was a shrug. Katya looked back to Rolaskatox and noticed a few pertinent details she’d missed in her first glance: Roxy and Detox were also in their skivvies, three chairs were now in a row on the bridge that separated the two halves of the pool, and the music had stopped.

Katya tried to do the math in her head: liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar = ???? She had to be missing something. “‘I’m gonna be a star,’” Alaska had said…Fame = liquid courage + 3 scantily clad girls x 1 chair - Kendrick Lamar. Katya’s brows knit together. Some kind of performance? And then it hit her. “‘Britney, bitch,’”…They’re performing a Britney Spears number practically naked. Obviously the ideal way to spend a Friday night. Katya could think of no other explanation for the weird happenings of the last few minutes, but the answer she’d arrived at wasn’t any less of an acid trip.

The three girls took their places behind the chairs, and Roxy, who had at some point manifested a microphone, gave pearl a thumbs up.

“Where my party people at?” Roxy shouted into the microphone. Praise Putin for Pearl because the feedback on the mic might have made their ears bleed. The crowd around the pool hooted and hollered. Yuck, Katya gagged on the high school movie realness. “We’ve got a special treat for you tonight! Our little Lasky here,” Roxy pushed Alaska forward, “Didn’t think that she was going to make the varsity cheer team.” Alaska flushed at her friends divulgence and squirmed in her grip. Naturally, Roxy paid no attention to her friend’s discomfort, “So Toxy and I, we made a bet: if Lasky didn’t make varsity we’d have a Golden Girls marathon, but if she did…she’d have to show off her sweet moves at the Back-to-School Bash!”

“Hit it, Pearl!” Detox shouted. Roxy tossed the microphone to someone near the end of the walk, and the three girls took their places by their chairs. Alaska was clearly less thrilled about the performance than she was when she had been talking to Katya minutes ago. Liquid courage? No dice. The instrumental intro into Britney Spears’ “Toxic” began to play from the outdoor speakers, and Alaska’s gyrated her hips mechanically to the beat.

Baby, can’t you see

I’m calling

A guy like you should wear a warning

It’s dangerous, I’m falling

Katya was dumbfounded. Mouth agape, she wondered, Does this shit happen at all high school parties? Mother, I swear I’m sober. She hadn’t had anything to drink, so she couldn’t have been drugged or anything crazy like that. This was, in fact, happening. And Katya had thought she was fucking mental. A glance to her side told her that she wasn’t the only one questioning her sanity; Trixie’s eyes were bulging out of their sockets.

There’s no escape

I can’t wait

I need a hit, Baby, give me it

You’re dangerous, I’m lovin’ it

Dangerous. There was something sinister about the atmospheric red that bathed the trio and spilled into the audience. Her hands began to tremble. Brenda, not now, she willed herself to calm down.

Too high

Can’t come down

Losin’ my head, spinnin’ ‘round and 'round

Do you feel me now?

It wasn’t just her shaking, though. Alaska’s body was vibrating with tension—not ‘loving it’. Her sisters in scandal moved a lot smoother than she did, and she was concentrating hard on keeping herself from falling off of her chair. How much “‘liquid courage’” did this bitch have? The trio had gotten up on their chairs at the beginning of the chorus and were doing what looked like Christina Aguilera choreography circa Genie in a Bottle. Katya wouldn’t be surprised if Rotox had actually gotten the wrong blonde when choreographing. Katya frowned, Alaska, please don’t crack your head open.

With a taste of your lips I’m on a ride

You’re toxic I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

She regained her breath when the chair acrobatics were finally over. The dance routine had evolved into what could probably qualify as softcore porn. Roxy, Alaska, and Detox were writhing on the platform in an obscene manner. Katya thought they looked like cats in heat. Alcoholic cats in heat. Which was actually quite a shame because real alcoholic cats in heat were something that Katya would totally like to see.

It’s getting late to give you up

I took a sip from my devil’s cup

Slowly, it’s taking over me

Too high, can’t come down

It’s in the air and it’s all around

Can you feel me now?

Britney Spears you are a cruel bitch, Katya chewed her lower lip. She was trying her hardest not to feel anything.

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

And I love what you do

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

If she weren’t so put off by the course the night had taken and concerned for her friend, she might have been more than a little turned on. There was no denying that Alaska was attractive—even as she flopped about like a fish on a marble platter—but her mother raised her right. We do not objectify women, and we definitely do not allow others to take advantage of inebriated ones.

Taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

With a taste of your lips, I’m on a ride

You’re toxic, I’m slippin’ under

With a taste of a poison paradise

I’m addicted to you

Don’t you know that you’re toxic?

Katya had to admit she was impressed. There really was no better way to draw attention to yourself than repeatedly slamming your pussy into the makeshift stage. It certainly seemed to be working now; she might just have to try it sometime.

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

I think I’m ready now

Intoxicate me now

With your lovin’ now

I think I’m ready now

Roxy, Alaska, and Detox all struck their final poses. Katya could see their chests heaving wildly as they held for the raucous applause of the party guests standing poolside. It was certainly strange, but she couldn’t knock their performance. Kids would be kids, right? She was about to chalk it all up to a bit of harmless fun, after all, when tweedle dumb and tweedle dumber broke formation and pushed Alaska straight off of the platform. Suddenly, the tall blonde was in the water, limbs thrashing about in response to the sudden change in environment.

“Pool party!” Willam shouted, stripping off her own dress. Leave it to Willam to make a splash. Literally. For some reason the most inebriated of the guests decided that it was a fantastic idea to accidentally drown themselves instead of their sorrows. Soon, the pool was full of bodies and she could no longer keep track of her friend.

Alaska finally scampered to the steps with the stability of a newborn fawn. She all but fell out of the pool and took half of the water with her. Alaska’s mascara streaked down her cheeks, and her hair hung limp and matted. Roxy and Detox were nowhere to be found—either to help her clean up or to read her for filth. Coco Montrese and her longtime frenemy Miss Alyssa Edwards, however, were more than happy to fill in.

They sound like those brain dead hyenas from The Lion King, Katya snickered to herself. Maybe not that lady one, though. That bitch was fierce.

Alaska coughed up a mouthful of water right at their feet. “Hey, Coco,” She began, “Your makeup is terrible.” Coco wasn’t laughing anymore. Point Alaska.

“Have you seen yourself, mama?” Coco fired back, The blonde rolled her eyes and snatched the drink in Coco’s hand. Alaska tossed it back all in one go.

“Thanks,” Alaska drawled, tossing the empty cup back and wrapping herself in the first available towel.

Katya turned to Trixie with a question on her lips. “Does this happen often?” She asked. Trixie gave a low whistle.

“Pearl has dragged me to a lot of weird shit, but I think this might just be a first,” Trixie answered with gusto. She checked her watch, “And it’s not even 10:00! The night is still young, honey!”

Right, Katya thought, the night is still young. Just great.

Trixie soon ditched Katya for Pearl—something about the stupid pumpkin carriage coming to steal her friend after midnight—and Katya hadn’t known Trixie long enough to reasonably protest the abandonment. She hoped Bianca was somewhere inside the house.

There were still people in the living room, but it looked like the horny gremlins from earlier had finally gotten a room. Literally. Unfortunately, the cheerleaders that had taken their place were not much better. Head bitch Violet Chachki had her legs draped over one of the arms of a stately armchair in a carefree yet superior manner. Why anyone would want to be queen of the hot messes? Katya couldn’t tell you. But apparently power—or at least the perception of power—gave one Violet Chachki a raging hard on. Gag.

Bianca wasn’t in the room, but the blonde was determined to see her valiant quest through. Hopefully, she’d stumble upon a nunnery with some sexy ladies along the way. Sneaking past the wicked bitch of the west and her flying monkeys, she regrouped in the kitchen. Katya went down her mental checklist: Keys? Check. Assorted limbs? Check. Clothes? Check. Inhibitions? Check. Virtue? Debauched. Sanity? Remaining hopefully optimistic. Bianca? Still M.I.A. The kitchen was empty due to the commotion happening poolside. Chips crunched under the soles of Katya’s sneakers. That was another reason she didn’t enjoy being out in the general public for extended periods of time: bitches be nasty.

The second floor was significantly cleaner than the first. An entire floor of the Honards’ house was dedicated to entertainment. Katya knew that Alaska had an older sister, Nebraska, but she couldn’t fathom why any child—or two children for that matter—needed an entire floor to play. How could the rooms not feel so…empty? Katya wondered, shuddering involuntarily. The blonde couldn’t picture Alaska spending much time up here now. She felt as though she was looking at an abandoned playground and couldn’t help but think it made Alaska sad, too.

After a few moments, it became clear to Katya that Bianca wasn’t there, but she continued to linger on the landing. Her blue eyes were drawn to the set of stairs that would take her to the third floor. It was an idea for the pantheon of bad ideas; she was tempted nonetheless. Katya could hear her grandfather’s words in her head: ‘Curiosity killed the kitty, лисичка,’ What her Deda didn’t know wouldn’t hurt him. Besides, I’m not that kind of pussy, am I? She justified.

Katya crept up to the dark third story of the house with the innocence of an intruder—she’d plead the fifth if necessary. The second door down from the landing was ominously open. Honestly, there may as well have been a big red arrow pointing towards the room because Katya’s feet were already carrying her towards it. Darkness engulfed the room, itself, save for a rectangle of warm light.

“Jinkxy, is that you?” Alaska groaned, presumably from the same direction as the light. “Jus’ leave the dress on the bed. Save the lecture for the morning.”

Katya cleared her throat, “Alaska? It’s Katya. Can I come in?” She received a grunt in response. The blonde followed the sound into what turned out to be Alaska’s master bathroom. Her friend was curled up against her marble tub with a beach towel wrapped around her.

“How was I, Kati?“ Alaska drawled.

Katya took a seat in front of her and pulled her legs to her chest. She thought for a moment before speaking, “80% sexy, 20% disgusting…like me.” Alaska whined. “Why are you still in your wet clothes?” She asked. Her friend shrugged. Right, Katya sighed. Alaska was half asleep; this wasn’t going to be a one woman job. Thankfully, Jinkx appeared moments later with her heels in one hand and Alaska’s little black dress in the other. Katya raised her hands in surrender. “I swear she was like this when I found her,” she blurted.

“This isn’t even the worst of it,” Jinx spoke candidly. She tossed her shoes onto the floor and pulled up her long, red hair. “I’ll wrangle the monkey if you go and find her some dry underwear and something to wear to bed.” Jinkx’s tone left no room for questioning.

Mother, I never thought I’d be a panty snatcher, much less an invited one, Katya made a face. Alaska’s dressers were easy to find, and she felt undeniably dirty as she began her game of panty roulette. Pulling open the first drawer, Katya sprang back, ready to strike. Assorted pajamas were hardly a foe, and she vanquished them swiftly. Rebel athleticwear laid in wait behind drawer number two. They, too, were no match for her feet of fury, Katya kicked the drawer shut with a battle cry.

“Katya, what the hell are you doing out there?” Jinkx called.

Katya had the dignity to look sheepish. “Nothing!” She shouted back. “Be there in a second!” The underwear turned out to be in the next drawer down. She thrust a hand inside without looking and tightened her grip on the first piece of fabric her hand found. Her feeling of triumph only lasted the few seconds it took for her to realize what she’d managed to retrieve: a lacy black teddy. Katya dropped the offending garment as if she’d been burned. I am going to hell, she shook her head, Straight to hell. I will not pass go, nor will I collect $100…Deuces never loses, right? The scarlet thong she fished out next begged to differ. Her face was almost as red as the fabric, itself, when she flung it across the room. Fortunately, the third time was the charm. The pastel pink boyshorts seemed like a more appropriate item to put on a drunk girl, so Katya returned to the bathroom to present her nightwear bounty to Jinkx.

The motherly redhead, unsurprisingly, was not impressed. Jinkx arched a brow expectantly.

“You see,” Katya began, “I wasn’t comfortable—I didn’t um feel right digging through her things without, you know, her permission?” She swallowed thickly. “So I thought maybe it would be less creepy if I just reached in and grabbed the first thing I touched. Well, you see, Alaska’s got such a wide range of tastes, and it-uh…It took a hot second to find something appropriate…for the…occasion?” She was expecting to find disgust when she raised her eyes to meet Jinkx’s, but the redhead cackled loudly instead.

“Lemme guess, you saw something you didn’t want to see?” Jinkx chortled. Katya managed a weak nod. “I’m sorry, doll, I forget that not everyone is as acquainted with Miss Honard’s unmentionables as little ol’ me.”

Not everyone is as acquain—Oh! Blue eyes threatened to burst from their sockets as Katya processed her words.  

“Oh, for heaven’s sake, not like that,” Jinkx exclaimed, reading the thoughts reflected on Katya’s face. “Lasky and I did community theater together. I’ve known her since the first grade. Drunk proof her nightstand for me? I’ll dress blondie over here.”

“Does this happen often?” Katya asked Jinkx after Alaska’s door was closed. The incapacitated cheerleader was finally sound asleep in her bed, and the two girls didn’t think she’d be up anytime soon.

Jinkx sighed sadly, “It didn’t use to. Roxy and Detox are more toxic than Drano, and there’s no one to stop her from going out with them. Look, Lasky’s a sweet girl. A good, smart girl. But she makes bad choices sometimes, and there’s nothing that I—that we—can do about it. She’s gotta be the one to say enough is enough.”

Katya understood. Katya understood more than she wanted to. She’d been a shell of a girl drowning in the voices in her head not too long ago. It didn’t matter how many hands reached out to her if she refused to take them. Alaska—happy and hopeful Alaska—might just be drowning, too. Katya wondered if she drank to impress, to keep up, or to forget.

Jinkx promised that she’d look over Alaska until the next morning, so Katya reluctantly chose to rejoin the land of the living downstairs. The first floor was significantly louder than it was when she left it. Games of flip cup and beer pong had picked up in the dining room, and Violet’s flock had not only grown, but had grown to include both Trixie and Bianca, who were trying their hardest not to laugh at the spectacle in the middle of the living area. Willam and Courtney were having a major bitchfest for all to see. Normally, Katya would run for the hills, but if Bianca and Trixie weren’t afraid of getting caught in the crossfire, she figured it was safe enough to stick around and tuned into the conversation.

“Your tone seems really pointed right now,” Willam pursed her lips. She was clearly the calmer of the two, as Courtney was beet red and positively radiating tension. Katya could tell Willam’s nonchalance was only winding the Australian up more.

Courtney folded her arms defensively. “Well, I’m sorry you think that, Willam,” she took a deep breath. “I feel like everything I say kinda comes from the heart, and I’m truly hurt that you threw yourself at Daniel when you knew how I felt about him.”

“Sorry ‘bout it,” Willam scoffed, picking at her nails. Her words reflected everything but the sentiment they were meant to.

Katya knew that Willam was a bitch, but this was a little much even for her. Willam and Courtney had been best friends since Courtney moved from Australia the summer of their freshman year; it was hard to believe that Willam would throw their relationship away. Katya held her breath. Everyone in the wings was uncomfortable during the pregnant pause. The scene before her was straight out of a 90s teen movie, and she didn’t have the popcorn to go with it.

All movement stilled when Willam finally looked up. “I tend to think emotions are for ugly people,” she deadpanned. The room let out a collective gasp. Courtney was across the room in a flash, and her palm made contact with Willam’s cheek. It would be logical to assume that Willam, who was just slapped across the face by her best friend, would be the most in shock at the sudden turn of events; it would also be the wrong conclusion. Courtney’s features were frozen in fear. The offending hand still hovered in the air, trembling like a leaf.

Willam was the first to react—and in a very uncharacteristic way. She engulfed the smaller girl in a tender hug. Courtney began to sob muffled apologies into her neck, and despite her obvious desire to recoil, Willam continued to hold her close.

Maybe Willam actually does have feelings, Katya’s eyebrows raised. The sight of Willam whispering words of reassurance into Courtney’s ear was enough to make even the coldest heart melt. Well, the coldest heart with the exception of Violet Chachki’s. Katya was pretty sure the stick up her ass was a permanent installment.

When the two pulled apart minutes later with smiles on their faces, they were met with a round of applause. Courtney wiped at her eyes, careful not to smudge her makeup. If she noticed Willam’s arm around her waist, she didn’t give any indication as she addressed the spectators that had gathered, “Well, I’m gonna need to be less sober before I spill any more about myself. Truth or drink, anyone?”

Truth or drink? No thanks, Katya turned to sneak out. Unfortunately, Bianca had also chosen that exact moment to glance in her direction, and Katya was caught in the act.

“Bitch, you can’t leave yet. It’s not even midnight!” Bianca half whispered, half hissed.

And Bianca doesn’t associate with losers, Katya reminded herself. Don’t be a loser. “If my locker gets filled with worms next week, I will personally marinate you like a chicken,” she promised her friend.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I’ve heard it all before. Blame it on Bianca Del Rio. Take a number, sweetheart, you’re holding up the line,” Bianca patted the space next to her on the floor.

Laganja had batted her eyelashes—and used her mouth—to coerce one of the mindless jocks to bring in one of the kegs from outside for their “slumber party secret sesh”. There were fifteen girls, including Katya, who stuck around for the potentially risky game, and Katya wasn’t thrilled to be playing with most of them. Adore finished off her beer and placed the empty bottle in the center of the circle.

“Party!” Adore shouted before giving the bottle a good spin. Around, and around, and around it went before coming to a stop at Coco’s feet. “Miss Coco Montrese, truth or dare?” She asked.

“I’ll pick truth, mama,” Coco answered.

Adore thought for a moment before speaking, “Are you afraid that you’ll always be the runner up?” There was a chorus of oohs. Everyone knew that the race for junior varsity squad captain their sophomore year was a sore spot for both girls. It was no secret that Alyssa was originally chosen to be captain by her teammates. However, when she became implicated in a cheating scandal, Coach Calhoun was forced to denounce her and give Coco, Alyssa’s best friend and the candidate to receive the second most votes, the position. To make matters worse, it was rumored that Coco was the one who suggested that Alyssa had committed academic dishonesty in the first place. Alyssa and Coco had patched up their friendship over the course of the last year, but there was no telling whether or not the structure would hold if tested.

“Out of respect for me and Miss Alyssa, I am going to drink,” Coco responded without hesitance. Adore poured her a shot, and Alyssa gave her hand a grateful squeeze as she tossed it back. “Ain’t no use bringing up what’s past.”

Coco spun the bottle next, and it chose Trixie as its victim. “Truth or dare?” Coco asked.

“I think I’ll pick dare?” Trixie responded with hesitance. Katya didn’t know much about Coco Montrese, but for Trixie’s sake she hoped Coco was one of the nice ones.

Said cheerleader gave Trixie a small and genuine smile, “Okay, mama, I dare you to let Miss Pearl over here do your makeup. Something has got to be done because you aren’t doing a pretty girl like yourself any favors.” The reactions to Coco’s dare for Trixie were mixed. Some of the she-demons tried and failed to hide their amused laughs, Pearl’s eyes opened fully, Violet’s grip on her chair tightened, and Trixie seemed to be not entirely opposed to the idea.

“Pearlie girl,” Trixie began, standing up and crossing to her best friend on the opposite side of the circle, “Treat my face like a princess and then fuck it like a slut.” The life-sized Barbie batted her eyelashes animatedly, earning her a laugh from pearl and a glare from Violet. The ice queen’s elevated irritability prompted Katya to reconsider her previous assessments—maybe it was an entire branch up her ass.

When Pearl and Trixie left, there was a void that seemed to swallow Violet whole. The physical space around her remained largely unchanged, but Katya could feel the emptiness that moved to fill the space Pearl left. And for the first time it occurred to her that Violet Chachki might be alone. I guess there might be some truth to the saying, she mused. After all, if you’re at the top, how can anyone else be? When you stripped away the glitter, the makeup, the clothes, you were left with a girl—albeit an arrogant, entitled, straight up cunt—plain and simple.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown, huh?” Bianca nudged Katya’s arm, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“What?” Katya asked. Had she missed something while she was contemplating the character of Violet Chachki?

Bianca chuckled, “You’ve been staring at Chachki since Trixie and Pearl left.” The blonde feigned innocence. “You know how I feel about that 48 Hours show, Zamo. Share with the class before your peanut brain short circuits.”

“What’s her problem?” Katya whispered. “I mean, aside from her general disdain for anything that has a pulse and moves.”

“With Trixie?” Bianca confirmed. Katya nodded. “Oh, this is old news. Her Royal Hardass doesn’t share, but Sleeping Beauty’s got a soft spot for one Trixie Mattel.”

The dots aligned in Katya’s head once again. “Violet’s the pumpkin carriage!” She whisper-shouted.

“Bitch, that was not English,” Bianca snarked, “You been hanging around with Jose Cuervo?”

Katya rolled her eyes at her friend’s question, “I have ninety-nine problems, and substance abuse won’t be one of them if I have anything to say about it.” She turned back to the circle just in time to see the neck of the bottle stop on Bianca, who didn’t even flinch. Katya was secretly proud; her friend had bigger balls than most of the ‘macho men’ at the party—this was going to be interesting. Since Trixie had gone upstairs to get her face redone, Detox decided that she would be the brave volunteer to issue the next truth or dare.

“Bianca, truth or dare?” Detox asked smugly. Katya couldn’t guess which one would be worse. Unsurprisingly, Bianca chose dare. “I dare you to ask Max for his number.” There was, again, a chorus of oohs, and it was Bianca’s turn to roll her eyes.

“Really, bitch?” Bianca asked. She stood up and righted her denim shorts before striding over to the meatheads playing beer pong with a clear purpose and her head held high.

Because Bianca could run with the boys, no one batted an eye—unless she wanted them to. She hoisted herself up onto the pool table in front of Max and held out an upturned palm. They were too far away to make out their conversation, and Katya was a terrible lip reader at best, but she could picture how the exchange would go down:

“Gimme ya’ numbah, beefstick,” She imitated Bianca in her head. The 1920s gangster voice was a bold choice, but she wasn’t going to mock it just yet.

“D’uhh…okay,” Fake Max droned.

The blonde chuckled to herself as the real Max stuck a fist in the pockets of his jeans and fished around. Finally, he produced what looked like a wadded up gum wrapper and snagged a pen from his pal, presumably jotting down his number. Bianca hastily took the offering and sashayed back to the group of girls. She dropped the wrapper in Detox’s lap before taking her seat by Katya.

While the hens squawked over her success, Bianca leaned over to Katya and whispered, “Never let a bitch see you sweat.” Katya had so many questions, but she wouldn’t be able to ask them until later. It was Bianca’s turn to spin the bottle, and Adore, unsurprisingly, chose truth when landed on.

“Adore, which girl on the squad is the skunkiest?” Bianca waggled her thick, black brows. Because she was the mascot and didn’t change in the locker room, she genuinely had no idea how rank the girls smelled after practice or a game. Sue her; she was curious. What Bianca also didn’t know was that the question had a definitive answer, and that answer would do damage far beyond her intent to poke a little harmless and innocent fun at one of the girls.

Even completely sloshed, Adore recognized the gravity of the question. “Fuck! If I drink any more, I’m gonna be sick,” Adore groaned. Her teammates looked at her with pity in their eyes.

“Yeah but it’s not like anyone’s ever died from drinking too much!” Laganja came to her rescue, topping off her cup, “What’s one more?” Adore could only offer her a weak smile.

“Uh, I think I’m just gonna spin the thing now…For everyone’s sake,” Adore informed the group. The bottle landed on Gia, and she picked dare.

The turns only seemed to bleed together as time went on. After Gia drank from the toilet, Roxy refused to reveal her weight. Laganja told her dad she was eloping in Vegas, and when she spun the bottle it landed on Violet. Because ladies don’t kiss and tell, the brunette tossed one back instead of revealing the number of sexual partners she’s had. Alyssa confessed that she was afraid she would never achieve her dream of owning her own dance studio. Courtney shared that she’d never been in love, and Willam exposed her entire browser history, telling Katya a lot more than she wanted to know about the girl. For obvious reasons, Joslyn refused to eat a raw egg. Detox followed by removing Adore’s socks with her teeth. Katya played it safe and suggested that Bianca would be a bad date because she’s insulting people all the time before daring Gia to reveal any childhood nickname she had. Things didn’t start going downhill until the bottle landed on Violet a second time.

“Violet,” Gia cooed, “Truth or dare?”.

“Truth,” Violet answered with an unreadable expression.

Gia thought for a moment before asking the first truly problematic question of the night, “Who in this room do you like the least?”

Ruh-roh, Katya winced.

Violet didn’t waste a moment before answering, “Willam.” There was a collective gasp across the room. Willam, on her part, didn’t seem to be phased in the slightest. Then again, you could never really read Willam Belli.

Pearl and Trixie returned, arm in arm, before Violet could spin the bottle. Katya’s jaw—along with all the other girls’—dropped. Trixie looked gorgeous. Pearl reclaimed her seat next to Violet, much to the cheerleader’s delight, but brought Trixie with her. At the group’s insistence, Trixie was allowed to take the turn that she missed, and Detox was dared to call a random number in her phone and deliver the worst pickup line she could think of. Katya was glad for the change in the room’s atmosphere after Violet’s confession until Detox took her turn. After the call, Detox dared Violet to spend the next hour trapped in a bathroom with another girl from the circle chosen at random. Anyone who didn’t know Detox might think she was trying to create a seven minutes in heaven type deal, but even Katya could pick up on her intent to stir up trouble. She pitied the poor soul who ended up stuck in there.

Of course that poor soul ended up being her, and she wasn’t about to pussy out in front of the most popular girls in school. Peer pressure was a bitch. Judge, jury, and executioner had all decided it was her time, and she accepted that; she just wished her death march had a better soundtrack. Katya would be cooped up in one of the Honards’ bathrooms with a less than pleasant—soon to be considerably more less than pleasant—Violet Chachki. She was going to punch Detox in her stupid mouth.

Katya entered the bathroom the same way she’d rip off a band-aid: quickly and without much thought for the immediate consequences. Violet, who was perched on the bathroom counter, had been engrossed in her phone when the door swung open to reveal the one girl that she just couldn’t seem to get away from. Unsurprisingly, the cheerleader wasn’t thrilled.

“Really, bitch?” Violet griped, giving Katya a once over. It wasn’t like the situation was ideal for either of them.

Katya put her hands on her hips, “You know what you can suck? My whole dick.” She unenthusiastically plunked herself down against the wall opposite of the door. “We’ve got two options, Chachki, we can either suck it up and spend the next hour in here in silence, or we can French a little.” Violet was aghast at her words. If Katya were a proper woman, she might have been able to hold in the cackling fit prompted by the girl’s scandalized reaction. Violet wasn’t impressed with her wheezing, either. Katya finally calmed down and attempted to explain herself, “Sorry, I could have been more clear, but your reaction was priceless.” She wiped at her eyes. “Thanks. I needed that. Detox said she was “‘feeling generous,’”  and if we so choose, we can suck face and then get the hell out of Dodge.” Violet sneered, and Katya wondered if it was with anger or disgust; she didn’t know which one was better.

“As fucking if,” Violet scoffed, clearly feeling as though Detox’s so-called coup de grâce was more of a personal attack.

“Well, I don’t see anyone lining up to get the kiss of the spider woman, either,” Katya observed. “I told you that you weren’t going to like it.” The cheerleader exhaled sharply, and she was surprised not to see steam come out of her flared nostrils.

Violet pursed her lips, “Just shut up and stay on your side of the room.” With that, Violet returned her attention to her phone, but Katya didn’t fail to notice that her expression didn’t soften. If Katya weren’t trapped in the room with her, she’d probably find Violet’s situation hilarious.

Katya had made the mistake of leaving her jacket—and consequentially, her phone—on the coat rack in the hall. Call her old fashioned, but it was a force of habit. Besides, she didn’t need her phone because Bianca was supposed to be there to pull her out of trouble if it arose. But are we really surprised to find ourselves here? Katya asked herself. No. Not at all. At least she found herself entertaining. Hoping to bring forth inspiration, she laid back on the floor, let her gaze unfocus, and tried to lose herself in the plain ceiling. Katya didn’t know how long she’d been drifting for when Violet’s voice shattered the silence.

“Fuck!” Violet cursed, and the sound of hard plastic hitting the floor made Katya’s whole body go rigid. She squeezed her eyes shut. I am not going to be equipped to handle this, Katya bristled. Maybe if I just keep my eyes closed, I can fall asleep. It seemed like a feasible plan until she heard the first sniffle. Of course I find out she has feelings when I’m stuck in a room with her, the blonde facepalmed inwardly. Why today, of all days, to be railed in the ass by life? Her left eye opened first, searching for any signs of danger before being followed by her right eye.

“I knew you didn’t like me Chachki, but I didn’t think you found me this repulsive,” Katya spoke. “Quite frankly, it’s offensive.”

“Fuck you,” Violet spat, but the usual venom in her voice was gone. Katya propped herself back up against the wall to get a better look at the girl on the counter. Her attention was unwanted, and Violet turned towards the door with a huff.

Clearly comedic relief wasn’t the answer. “Do you wanna talk about it?” Katya tried again. No response. The girl’s side profile was growing red and blotchy, and Katya had sent her mom enough photos of her crying to know that Violet was trying and failing to stifle an emotional response. Go figure. “I won’t tell anyone if you cry, you know?” She said softly. “Bottling it up is just gonna make you feel shittier than you do now.”

“Do you think I’m a goddamn idiot?” Violet barked. She wiped furiously at her eyes before whirling around in an attempt to intimidate the blonde. “Better make your fifteen minutes last.”

Katya was genuinely taken aback. Does this bitch really think I’m in on this? She shook her head incredulously. Her airhead friends would literally eat me alive, and I’m pretty sure I haven’t given her any reason to think that I’m faker than Malibu Barbie. If I were made of plastic, why in the hell would I keep my hands this small? “Are we really back on this bullshit, Violet?” Katya snapped. “I’m sorry you think that the universe revolves around you. I hate to burst your bubble, but I have better things to do than conspire against you with your teammates over scones. Get over yourself, Princess.” In her head, Katya blew the smoke from the pistols in her hands. Call me perestroika, Mother, for I am reforming problematic practices, she hooted.

“Whatever,” Violet grumbled. Katya, on the other hand, wasn’t willing to let this go; some conversation was better than nothing.

“How’s the back?” The blonde inquired and was pleasantly surprised when Violet outright snorted at the shift in conversation. Katya took her in as she threw her head back in laughter. There was something about this Violet—the unguarded and natural Violet—that captivated her. Violet’s eyes crinkled, and she clasped a hand over her mouth in a flimsy attempt to stifle the noises she was making. It was frustratingly endearing.

Violet cleared her throat before answering, “Fucked. I’m considering outlawing acrylics on the squad. That shit’s not even practical for a cheerleader, and it’s hurting like a bitch to corset.”

“You’re wearing a corset?” Katya gasped. For the first time that night, she took all of Violet in. She wore a nude illusion dress with a loose black lattice pattern. It covered just a little more than her ass and was cinched at the waist with a rocker belt, squeezing her in a way that left absolutely nothing to the imagination. How in the world do you hide a corset under that? Katya wondered. In addition to the dress, she donned thigh high, slick black boots and a thick, black leather choker that looked more like a collar. Hot damn, Katya could n e v e r, and she knew it. She finally composed herself, “First of all, you’re literally a cheerleader with a body to die for. Second of all, why wear something that hurts you?”

The cheerleader didn’t even seem phased by the inquiries, almost like she’d dealt with them hundreds of times before, “Pain is beauty, and I’m the prettiest.” Katya couldn’t argue there. Violet was beautiful, but she still thought her ideology was questionable.

“So what actually happened at the pep rally? We all saw you fall, but I’ll believe it was your fault when the garden is full of ducks holding pastry in their hands. You’re too much of a hardass.”

Violet raised her eyebrows, as if daring Katya to say it again, “I will let that slide only because it’s technically a compliment. And you’d be correct; I am a professional, unlike others. You’d do well to take note: one of my biggest pet peeves is when people don’t take the things I love as seriously as I do. I accept nothing less than perfection.”

“That must be lonely,” Katya couldn’t stop the words from spilling from her mouth. “You know, having such high standards? Does anyone ever make the cut?” Opening her mouth was clearly a mistake because Violet seemed to shut down all at once.

“What do you know about how I feel?” Violet fired back, crossing her arms over her chest.

Keep digging yourself deeper, why don’t ya? Katya shook her head. She needed to tread carefully. It was a miracle that she had even been having a civil conversation with Violet in the first place, and she didn’t want to ruin the progress they had made. “I know that you work harder than anyone else on that squad, and nobody gives you credit or appreciates you for it,” Katya began. “I know that people are fast to discredit your talent because of how young you are. I know that you’re waiting for the day those bitches stop hoping that you’ll screw up or get hurt, the day you can finally stop looking over your shoulder, the day that you no longer have to prove yourself. I know that you’re tired of fighting tooth and nail for the respect that you’ll probably never earn, and I know it’s fucking hard for you to pretend that your peers aren’t harboring resentment towards you. I know that at night you try to wash it all away because you’re still holding out hope that it will all be worth it in the end. Cheer and theatre aren’t that different. It was obvious in the gym, and it’s obvious now.” Katya took a deep breath. Maybe she’d been thinking a little more about Violet that afternoon than she’d like to admit. She hadn’t meant to go off on a tangent like that, but she certainly didn’t regret what she said. Based on Violet’s reaction, however, maybe she should have. The brunette’s hands were clenched into tight fists at her sides, and tears began to roll down her cheeks. Katya tried to backtrack, “Violet I—”

Katya was cut off by the bathroom door swinging open. Pearl, who stood oblivious on the other side, immediately noticed the state of her friend. “Vi?” Pearl approached her hesitantly. Violet’s gaze didn’t move from the floor. “Hey, what’s going on? Talk to me.” She moved to lift Violet’s chin up, but Violet recoiled from her touch.

“Don’t touch me!” Violet shouted, her voice almost frantic. Katya’s eyes darted from one girl to the other. Pearl, who was visibly shocked by her reaction, looked hurt, which was very uncharacteristic for the mellow girl. Katya, herself, had never seen anything but characteristic nonchalance reflected on Pearl’s face, and the change made her uneasy.

Pearl took a reluctant step forward and spoke in a whisper, “Violet, did something happen? You know you can tell me anything.”

“Is that the truth, Pearl?” The brunette questioned. “Because clearly I don’t know you as well as I thought I did.”

Pearl shook her head in frustration. “Cut the crap, Vi,” She demanded, “You’re literally my best friend, and—”

“Bullshit!” Violet interrupted. “I call motherfucking bullshit!” Both girls were standing now with less than a foot between them, the situation escalating by the second, and Katya was stuck in the middle of it. She tried to push her back further into the solid wall behind her, but there was nowhere for her to go. Fuck me! Katya grimaced. Why is Toxic so damn appropriate right now?

“What the hell, Violet?” Pearl shouted back. “God, you’re fucking impossible.”

“Fuck you, Pearl!” Violet pushed Pearl, and the blonde hit the wall with a dull thud. “Fuck you! You and I are done! You hear me? Done! Save your goddamn lies for that pathetic dress up doll. I never want to see you again.” With a huff, Violet stormed out of the bathroom, leaving an uncomfortable Katya and a drained Pearl alone. What the fuck just happened? Katya tried and failed to process the encounter.

She was caught off guard when Pearl finally acknowledged her presence. “Forecast predicts drinking to forget,” Pearl deadpanned, nodding her head towards the door Violet had just stormed through. “Want in?” Katya shook her head furiously. Getting piss drunk with those two would be like making smalltalk with a Molotov cocktail. She’d pass. She’d pass hard. Pearl seemed to understand. “It’s flazéda or whatever,” The corners of her mouth turned up slightly. “Just do me a solid and remind me to fuck with Willam’s weed on Monday.”

Katya didn’t know what “‘flazéda’” meant, or the why and how of Pearl tampering with Willam’s weed, but the questions weren’t enough to persuade her to stick around the party longer. When Pearl left, Katya made a run for the Honards’ front door. She grabbed her jacket before taking off down the street. The blonde didn’t stop until she could no longer hear the music pulsing from the house. Her phone buzzed in her pocket with a text from ‘Bianca del Realest’:

Bitch, where are you?

What the fuck happened in there?

Earth to Yekaterina?

Katya sighed and pocketed the phone again. She’d call her when she got home. That would buy her some more time to put the experience into words…and to decide just how much information she should share.

The drive home from the Honards’ was quiet—too quiet. Music normally made being in the car enjoyable, but there was something about the night that didn’t allow Björk to keep her out of her own head. It didn’t feel real, and that terrified the shit out of her. Life was monotonous, life was mundane, life was one of those stupid time loop movies where you had to learn from your mistakes over time and find out what was important in the stupid haystack of chaos. Violet Chachki and her ex best friend potentially ex best friend were not supposed to have the Chernobyl of all relationship meltdowns in Alaska Honard’s guest bathroom right in front of her. Katya didn’t know who opened this tragic can of worms, but when she found them, she was going to slap a bitch silly.

[janaikam]

I Can’t Help Falling In Love With You - Collaboration

Day 4 of @luxyweek

Part 3

Read on AO3

There was some force working in XY’s favor because right as he made his realization, his phone went off. One of the first songs he had ever released, Answer Me, blared from his phone. It wasn't the first song he had ever written. No, the first song he wrote his father said it wouldn’t sell and told him the best way to produce music was to have other people do it for you.

XY moved away from the bathroom mirror to check his phone. His father was texting asking to meet for dinner later, which meant yet another boring business meal. Those were never fun because he had to be all serious and stuff, which was the exact opposite of his personality.

Plus he never really needed to be there. His father just told him plans for his career, and they moved on with their lives. It’s not like XY had decisions to make.

XY made bad decisions. That's what his father always said, so it was better to leave it up to other people to decide what was best.

“This has been fun, but I better go before, uhh, before someone recognizes me in these horrid clothes,” XY says quickly, moving to the bathroom door. “Can’t have my fans seeing me like this.”

“Of course. Image is everything. I wouldn’t want to be the one to ruin yours,” Luka said, dryly.

XY smiled. Luka already knew the first things about being a musician.

“I’m glad you understand! It’s definitely nothing against your personal style. Like it’s not all bad. This hoodie is super comfortable. How does something so nice and soft like this exist?” XY stopped his rant, realizing Luka was smirking at him. “Anyways gotta go. This was fun, we should do it again sometime!”

“NO, WE SHOULDN'T!!” he heard Luka yell, but XY was already at the top of the boat.

He dashed off the boat, running towards Le Grand Paris. Being around Luka seemed to have some effect on him that he hated to admit to himself, and he did not need Luka figuring that out.

He would probably use it as blackmail to get XY to buy him anything he wanted. After all, that’s what everyone else wanted.

XY was grateful that he didn’t run into anyone he knew on his run back to the hotel. If his dad found out he was playing dress-up like a little kid, he would get the worst lecture ever.

Thankfully when he returned, he still had about two hours until dinner with his dad, so he pulled out his laptop to play the Sims for a bit to try and distract himself.

It wasn’t until he was deep in a game with two male sims trying to become famous while raising a daughter that he realized he made Luka and himself in the Sims. What made things worse was that the Luka character had a more successful career than him.

Frustrated, XY slammed his laptop shut and threw it on the couch. Clearly, these feelings for Luka weren’t going to go away easily.

That blue-haired wannabe was giving him so much trouble, and he didn’t even know it. He wished that he was right there in his bedroom so XY could yell and give him a piece of his mind. Maybe cuddle a bit. Or even share secrets.

Just so Luka trusted him. Then he would blindside him with feelings. That way XY would have something on Luka.

Yes, that’s what he’ll do. Xavier-Yves Z Roth will make Luka Whatever His Middle Name is Couffaine fall in love with him.

Now all he had to do was figure out how exactly to do it.

----

The sweet sounds of his own music filled his ears as XY slowly woke up. The slight pain in his back let him know that his position on the couch the previous night was not very comfortable.

XY ignored the pain, moving to check his phone.

There were about ten messages from his father, nine more than he was used to. Most of the messages were questioning his whereabouts, which he found strange. XY hardly leaves his room, so it was easy to find him if someone really needed him.

It wasn’t until he scrolled up to the message from yesterday afternoon that he realized he skipped dinner with his father.

Quickly typing a response back, XY tried to think of an excuse as to why he never made dinner. Outright saying that he was watching rom coms to figure out how to make some guy fall in love with him was probably not the best. Especially considering his father wanted him to stay single, so all the girls would buy his album.

Instead, he lied, saying that he had found a great new song and was planning to record it as soon as possible. It would get his father off his back for a while and give XY more time to figure out what he was going to do.

He wanted to get on this Luka thing as soon as possible, but his movie marathon hadn’t been very successful. While the romcoms gave him some ideas, there were many flaws.

Like for one, two weeks in when the feelings are budding, Luka could find out what XY was doing and then hate him for it. It could ruin everything even if in a few days they made up.

Unfortunately for him, his father replied, saying he would stop by the studio to make sure everything was going alright. Which meant XY actually had to go down to the studio and find a song to record.

Just Great. It was gonna be a long day.

----

Everything was stupid.

None of the producers knew what they were doing, and XY couldn’t find a song to steal. He found that most of the producers at the record company were very nervous around him and didn’t want to upset him, which in turn just upset him even more.

“You guys can’t do anything right! How hard is it to just help me pick a song for my next album! There’s so much talent out there! Just find someone! I mean it can’t b-”

A knock at the studio door interrupted XY’s ranting, and everyone turned to see Luka there.

All the producers started whispering among themselves. From what XY gathered, “who would dare interrupt XY?”

XY tuned them out and instead focused on Luka. He looked very out of place with a plastic bag on his shoulder and his scruffed up everyday look.

XY couldn’t think of any reason for Luka to show up, but this was perfect. He could woo Luka and record a song for his dad in one fell swoop.

“Luka! What are you doing here?” XY asked, turning on his charm. He needed this to work or else he would have no way to get Luka back for the feelings XY was feeling.

The producers had stopped whispering instead, choosing to watch the interaction between XY and Luka. Their interest in what was happening was really getting on XY’s nerves.

“Could you guys go make music or something? You’re not needed right now,” XY told them, subtly implying that they should leave.

It worked as producers quickly grabbed their things and bolted out the door, leaving just Luka and XY in the studio.

“Uhh, I just dropped by to return your clothes. I don’t really need them, and Juleka was about to sell them online, so I thought you might want them back before she did that.”

XY blinked. XY vaguely remembered the purple haired girl from yesterday. Based on what Luka said, she didn’t seem very cash money to him.

“Oh, uh thanks.” It was weird the effect Luka had on him. One minute his head is filled with so many thoughts and ideas, and then the next it’s just head empty, no thoughts.

Luka handed him the plastic bag with clothes. XY took it and set it down on the floor.

“I couldn’t help but overhear, but were you trying to find a song to steal?” Luka asked, moving to the laptop XY had been looking at.

XY couldn’t help but feel that Luka was accusing him of something, but he had no clue what. It wasn’t like he was doing anything wrong.

“I mean yeah. It’s how I get all of my music. What else am I supposed to do?” XY flopped back into one of the studio chairs. The chair made a slight creak as it took on XY’s full weight.

“You could try writing your own music. You’re less likely to have akumas target you that way.” Luka crossed his arms while taking a deep breath.

“When has an akuma targeted me for stealing music?” XY scoffed.

“Are you…? You’ve got to be kidding me right? I was akumatized because you stole my band’s song!”

XY blinked. “You were? Huh, no idea how I forgot that. So were you a good akuma?”

“Wha-I-what does that even mean!?” XY inwardly smiled as Luka’s face became redder.

“Like did you win?”

Luka gave him a look that said, are you kidding me?

“Considering that you still have your voice, no I did not win.”

“Some akuma you were,” XY scoffed.

XY wasn’t really sure how, but Luka’s face almost looked like a tomato at this point. It was really cartoonish and super adorable.

“Well if Ladybug hadn't stopped me, then you would be mute, and you would somehow have to explain to your fans how you’re still able to ‘sing’ your songs.” Luka smirked as if he was proud of something.

“That’s easy! We would just keep making the music! It’s already what we do. Doesn’t really matter if I can’t hear them.”

XY could practically feel Luka’s anger coming off in waves. If Luka hadn’t taken a deep breath, XY was almost confident an akuma would’ve appeared. Though maybe that wouldn’t be too bad, it would give him an excuse for not having a song for his dad.

“Before I completely lose my cool, Xavier-”

“It’s XY actually.”

“Xavier-Yves. It is in your best interest that you decide to start writing your own music and shut up when other people are talking for crying out loud,” Luka finished. His face started turning back to it’s normal pale color, much to XY’s disappointment.

XY couldn’t help but think Luka looked cuter mad. It was just a fact.

“That’s too much effort. I’ve tried and I suck.”

Luka frowned. It was debatably cuter than when he was angry.

“If you suck, why don’t you try writing one with someone else? I’m sure if you at least have some ideas then someone else could help you polish things,” Luka asked.

XY paused. He’d never thought of doing that before, or really, his dad had never thought of that. He had always said that success was based on individual effort, not a group effort, so help from others was usually out of the question.

“What do you mean? Like a collab?”

Luka shrugged. “Yeah, something like that. I’m sure there’s someone out there who would be willing to work with you.”

That wasn’t necessarily true. Most other artists in Paris had either stolen their work by him, or he’d made fun of them so much that they cut off all contact with XY. Even some of the celebrities his dad produced were willing to risk their contracts just so they wouldn’t have to work with XY.

Perhaps there was still one musician that might help him, XY thought, looking towards Luka.

Putting on his best puppy dog eyes and duck face, XY asked, “Would you collab with me?”

Upon hearing XY’s question, Luka’s face turned into a disgusted one.

“Uh, yeah, I’ll help. But promise me one thing?”

“What?” XY asked eagerly. He would never admit it to Luka, but the thought of working with him made XY extremely excited.

“Never ever make that face again.”

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

As it turned out, Bob Roth never stopped by the studio. But XY couldn’t have cared less that his father never showed. He had so much fun with Luka that working didn’t even bother him.

It turned out Luka was an amazing guitarist. He was also very talented at the kazoo, making the harsh noise sound very melodic and pleasing to the ear.

The two instruments combined with XY’s sound mixing skills produced an awesome new song that he couldn’t wait to show his father. Even the producers that helped record the song said it was something no one could have ever imagined.

All in all, it was a great experience that XY wanted to do again. Who knew that a new music partner was all one needed to make good music?

When he got back to his room, XY ordered some fried chicken from room service and turned on the TV. He wasn’t really interested in what was on, but he left it on just as background noise. After all, the news could mention him in something amazing he did.

He was just ready to relax from a long day’s work without a care in the world.

Looking over at his bed, XY noticed Luka’s clothes thrown in a pile at the end of the bed. It would be nice of him to return Luka’s things. Especially since Luka returned his clothes instead of letting them be sold online.

XY sighed as he went to pick up the clothes. Luka better give him something in return for all of this.

Maybe he would give him a kiss on the cheek. Now that would be a great payment.

He had almost gathered everything. The last item on the floor was a plain silver bracelet. It was really strange cause all of Luka’s other bracelets were very colorful.

Grabbing the bracelet, it surprisingly turned a soft purple color, and a bright light filled the room. XY had no choice but to cover his eyes, dropping the clothes in his hands.

When the light cleared, there was a green snake thing floating in front of him.

“AHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!”

[allthehorrormovies]

A+1 - A blend of American Pie and Scream, but surprisingly better than that sounds. Outlining the plot would give away the twist, which tips its hand early on, yet ends in a gratifying manner. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Make love, not war.

Alien - A friend remarked how this film likely wouldn’t be made today. It’s shot too dark. It’s quiet, purposefully. There’s no action for much of the first half; more a study in isolated labor and worker exploitation. And there’s not a “star,” outside of teenage dreamboat Harry Dean Stanton. Actors like Sir Ian Holm Cuthbert were selected for their ability, not their stature within Hollywood, as production took place in London. As Robert Ebert said, “These are not adventurers, but workers.” We’re lucky it was made, supposedly, in part because the success of Star Wars pushed the studio to quickly release their own space movie. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Sigourney Weaver is the ultimate Final Girl.

Aliens - The deliberate, slow pace of Alien is replaced by James Cameron’s grandiose action, backed by four times the original budget. Like Terminator 2: Judgment Day, it’s amazing that both films avoid “the disease of more.” Cameron’s characters are too often weighed down by punch-line dialogue, but all the elements together somehow work. Ripley’s character begins to move past being a simple pilot and into a warrior woman, for better and worse. The studio originally tried to write her out of the sequel due to a contract dispute, but Cameron thankfully refused to make the film without her. There are people out there who prefer Aliens to Alien, and that’s fine. They are wrong, but that’s fine. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Alien³ - David Fincher has famously disowned his directorial debut, citing studio deadlines for its poor quality. Compared to the first two films, it certainly is a failure. Though gorier, the scenes with the digital alien look terrible upon re-viewing. The various writers and scripts, some potentially interesting—especially William Gibson’s version, and changing cinematographers and the insertion of Fincher late into production doomed the project from the start. All that said, the movie itself isn’t terrible—parts are even good, but what feels like a midway point in Ripley’s saga is ultimately her end, and that feels cheap. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Alien: Covenant - The maddening mistakes of Prometheus absent, this sequel is a tense, action-packed killer of a flick. Scott claims a third prequel is in the works that will tie everything back to Alien, which is . . . fine? It’s just that the first film was so great and everything else since then seems so unnecessary. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Alien Resurrection - The aliens look better than ever before, but Joss Whedon’s dialogue is simply annoying and the casting is horrible. Ripley has super powers and kills her large adult alien son. Winona Ryder decides crashing a space ship into Paris, killing untold millions, is the best way to get rid of the aliens for some reason. It’s fucking dumb and cost $70 million to make. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. In the special edition intro, director Jean-Pierre Jeunet says he didn’t change much in the re-release because he was proud of the theatrical version. Baffling. 

Amer - This Belgian-French film is a tribute to the Italian tradition of giallo, a stylized, thriller told in three sections that directors like Suspiria’s Dario Argento pioneered. Mostly wordless, there’s not much plot, more a series of moments in a women’s life revolving around terrifying, sexual moments that ends in murder and madness. There are some terrific scenes, but it’s more of an art piece than movie. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

An American Werewolf in London - Funny and scary all at once, setting the bar almost impossibly high for all that followed. Rick Baker's special effects catapult this movie into greatness. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Ebert was right, though; it doesn’t really have an ending. 

Annihilation - Perhaps more of a sci-fi thriller than a horror movie. But due to some terrifying monsters scenes, I’m going to include it. Apparently writer/director Alex Garland wrote the screenplay after reading the first book in Jeff VanderMeer’s Southern Reach trilogy, giving the movie a different overall plot. Garland’s sleek style that made Ex Machina so wonderful is replaced by “The Shimmer,” which gives the film a strange glow. The ending relies too much on digital special effects that looked more gruesome in earlier segments, detracting from its intended impact. Still, a few key scenes, especially the mutated bear, are downright terror-inducing. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. I first found the constant flashbacks unnecessary, but viewed as a refraction on Portman’s mind as well as her body make them more forgiving.

The Babadook - Creepy and nearly a perfect haunted horror movie, except for some final tense moments that too quickly try to switch to sentimental, which leaves their earnestness falling flat. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Dook. Dook. Dook.

The Babysitter (2017) - One of Netflix’s original movies, this one pays off in gore and borrows heavily from Scott Pilgrim vs. the World-style jokes. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Meh. It’s cheesy and cliché, but whaddaya gonna do?

Backcountry - Don’t be fooled thinking this is like Jaws “but with a bear,” as I did. Unsympathetic characters and zero tension make this movie a drag to watch. At the start, you think, “Who cares if these assholes get eaten by a bear? They wandered into bear country without a map.” By the end, you’re actively cheering for the bear to eat the boyfriend and only a little sympathetic for the lead character. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. To her credit, Missy Peregrym does a fine job of being a mostly lone protagonist.

Basket Case - Cult director Frank Henenlotter‘s debut starts as a creepy, bloody horror movie, but staggers after showing the monster too soon and then tries to fill time with unnecessary backstory and extended scenes of screams and blood that would have otherwise been eerily good if executed more subtly. Despite not being very good, it’s at least somewhat interesting and kind of impressive considering its low budget. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Battle Royal - I’m not convinced this is a horror movie, it’s more just a gory action flick. But hey, oh well. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun, but not as great as many people seem to believe.

The Beyond - Considered one of Lucio Fulci’s greatest films, it might be a bit disappointing to newcomers of his work. Certainly the style and impressive gore are at their highest, but the muddled plot and poor dubbing distract from the overall effect. Fabio Frizzi‘s score is, for the most part, a great addition, however, certain key moments have an almost circus-like tone, which dampens what should be fear-inducing scenes. It’s easy to see why some fans absolutely love this movie while some critics absolutely hate it. In the end, it’ll please hardcore horror fans, but likely bore others. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Beyond the Gates - Two estranged brothers are sucked into an all-too-real game of survival after finding a mysterious VHS board game following the disappearance of their father. The plot is fun and original, but the lead actors aren’t all that engaging and the special effects look rather outdated for a 2016 release. Still, it’s an enjoyable watch. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Black Christmas - A slasher that starts out with potential, but never gets all that scary or gory, though it’s well made. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Margot Kidder gets a kid drunk.

Black Sheep (2006) - A hilarious, gory take on zombie sheep. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Black Sunday - The Mask of Satan (aka Black Sunday) is totally my new superhero/metal band name. If you're a fan of older horror, this one is not-to-miss. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Vengeance, vampires, Satan worship, castles, curses, and a buxom heroine, this movie is pretty damn dark for a 1960's black & white film.

The Blackcoat’s Daughter - Scores points for a couple of horrific scenes and a fairly good switcheroo, but mostly too slowly paced to capture the viewer’s attention. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Emma Roberts continues her path to being the modern Scream Queen.

The Birds - Hithcock’s film was, by no means, the first horror movie. German, Japanese, and UK directors had explored witches, demons, and the classic monsters decades earlier. But, The Birds is a landmark film, like Psycho, for pioneering a new wave of modern horror. It was, perhaps, the first time female sexuality and ecological revenge had been combined to create an unsettling tale with an ambiguous ending. And the rather graphic scenes of found corpses, combined with a minimalist score, are nearly as shocking today as when the film was first released. 5 out of 5 pumpkins.

Braindead - It's Bill Pulman and Bill Paxton in a 1980s B-horror; what more do you need? Most people won't enjoy this campy fart of nonsense, but try pulling your TV outside and getting good and drunk. Anything's good then. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. “The universe is just a wet dream."

The Brood - No where near as polished as Scanners or Videodrome, but still a creepy, well-made film. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

A Bucket of Blood - This black & white 1959 film from Roger Corman is more dark comedy than horror, but it’s a absurdly fun critique of beatnik culture written by Corman’s partner on Little Shop of Horrors. Dick Miller gives a great performance, and with a run time of about an horror, the pacing feels relatively quick for an older film. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Byzantium - The tale of two British vampires who live like wandering gypsies, setting up a low-rent brothel in a seaside town despite being immortal badasses because the all-powerful, all-male secret vampire club is trying to kill them, because . . . no girls allowed? It’s unclear. The vampires are of the more modern type—they go out during the day and receive their curse from a geological location than from one another. Still, overall the movie is better than it has to be. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Cabin Fever - Eli Roth’s directorial debut isn’t awful, but it certain could have been better considering Roth credits Carpenter’s The Thing as its inspiration. The homophobic jokes date the movie more than the alt-rock soundtrack and the repetitive scenes reminding viewers of how the mysterious disease spreads (at apparently differing rates depending on the character) during the conclusion end up creating a weird kind of plot hole. To his credit, some of the nods to The Thing are OK. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Cabin Fever 2: Spring Fever - That Ti West made this pseudo-campy and outright bad movie during the same period that he made The House of the Devil is perplexing. The style, pace, and subtly that make The House of the Devil an enjoyable film are nonexistent in this cash-grab sequel. West apparently hated the final cut and requested his name be removed from the project. That said, I kind of like this movie better than the original. I’ve always found Roth’s praise of his directorial debut to be odd, as it’s not very good. For what it’s worth, this movie isn’t trying to be anything other than what it is: a tasteless, bad horror movie. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Retcons the plot hole in the first movie, at least.

The Cabin in the Woods - As good of a spoof of the horror genre as one could hope. Stereotypical with an O'Henry twist at every turn, this movie is good for an afternoon viewing, much like Tucker & Dale vs Evil. Without giving much away, if you think about it, The Cabin In the Woods is like a weird PSA about how marijuana will destroy all of mankind. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun and gory with something for everyone.

Candyman - Decades later, it’s not as easy to see why Candyman was such a landmark movie. It’s a bit slow, stumbles in places, and some of the acting is only serviceable. However, the story itself (based on Clive Baker’s original) is—on paper at least—good. Critics at the time were rightfully hesitant to praise a movie simply for having a black villain, especially when his origin is based on racial violence, but Tony Todd’s portrayal is so terrifying it launches the character into one of the all time great horror monsters. Add in Philip Glass’s soundtrack and Candyman reigns among other classics without being a top contender. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Carrie - I saw this movie on TV a long time ago, but I had forgotten much of the film, especially the opening scene of slow motion nudity (aren't these girls supposed to be in high school?!). The remake of this movie is likely going to be bad, but the original is so good I'll probably go see it. What can be said? Pig's blood. Fire. Religious indoctrination. Sexual overtones. There's a reason Brain de Palma's version of Steven King's story became so culturally important. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. This movie holds up, even today. 

Carrie (2013) - Though nothing is glaringly bad, and the added back-story decently pulled off by Julian Moore as the mother, almost every scene is a shadow of the original. Which is unfortunate considering that the remake of Let The Right One In managed to find a somewhat more unique tone. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Largely unnecessary.

The Changeling - George C. Scott does a fine job as a mourning husband haunted by an unfamiliar spirit. Not the most exciting movie, but pretty decent. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. It might’ve ranked higher, but there are no half stars here.


Cheerleader Massacre - This movie looks like someone shot it in their backyard with an earl 90s handheld camcorder . . . in high school. This is just embarrassing, for me too. The actors seem to be exotic dancers or adult film stars, who haven’t been asked back for a shift in a while. Alright, I skipped through this because the quality was so low. At around minute 41 there's a bathtub scene with three naked women, which culminates in one licking chocolate sauce off each other’s breasts. Some people die. Two of the naked women survive, I think. The house they all go to in the beginning of the movie - a ski lodge, I guess - burns down, or doesn't. Whatever. 0 out of 5 pumpkins. Just watch actual porn.

Child’s Play - While only OK, I understand how this became a franchise. Melted Chucky is terrifying. The villain can hop from vessel to vessel, unfortunately through some kind of voodoo racist bullshit. The characters are shallow, but serviceable. For such a big budget movie, it’s weird that it ends so abruptly. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Children of the Corn - Damn, this movie is boring. Linda Hamilton does the World's Least Sexy Birthday Striptease. The characters are joking quite a bit having just run over a child, whose dead body is rattling around in the trunk. What was the casting call like for this movie? "Wanted: Ugly children. Must look illiterate." All in all, things turn out pretty good for our protagonists. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. For something that spurred at least five other movies, this was remarkably uninspiring. 

City of the Living Dead - The dialogue is awkward and the plot a bit convoluted, but the special effects hold up and the overall story is good. The first of Lucio Fulci’s Gates of Hell trilogy. Apparently when the movie was screened in L.A., Fulci was booed. 3 of 5 pumpkins. Poor Bob the Simple Pervert.

Climax - Gaspar Noé is known for making viewers feel as uncomfortable possible with his experimental style film making. Which is fine. But that discomfort rarely lands to move me outside the initial shock. Climax is, surprisingly, more like a Suspiria remake than the actual 2018 remake. That, however, doesn’t make it good. The really shocking moments aren’t all that shocking and the cultural commentary isn’t very deep. It’s not a bad movie, it’s just, well, unnecessary. The dance scenes are extraordinary, so at least it’s got that going for it. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Color Out of Space - An enjoyable, albiet uneven, film that does a lot with little. A head-trip type of home invasion movie that pulls you in. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Conjuring - It’s easy to see why so many people love this movie. It’s well-acted, it has jump-out-of-your-seat scares, and incorporates several classic fear elements. Considering the mediocre, at best, tiredly worn horror movies that slump to torture porn for shock value coming out recently, The Conjuring stands above its peers. Still, there’s nothing original about the movie. 3 out 5 pumpkins. 

The Conjuring 2 - Billed as more shocking than the original, this sequel likely lands better in theaters with it’s jump-cut scares and action flick sequences. On the home screen, however, the overly dramatic elements are too far flung to seem like a haunting based on true events. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. 

Creep (2014) - Nails the P.O.V. angle without going too far down the overly-used “found footage.” Mark Duplass is terrifying and without his ability to carry the film, the entire concept could have easily fallen flat. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Creep 2 - Mark Duplass pleasantly surprises with a sequel that, while not as *ahem* creepy as the first, builds out the world of his serial killer in a manner that is engaging and ends with the potential for more. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Crimes of Passion - Technically it’s an “erotic thriller,” but given Ken Russell in the director’s chair and Anthony Perkins as the villain, I’m adding it to this list. Unfortunately, it’s not a great film. Kathleen Turner surpasses over acting in some scenes, and the rest of the cast is pretty forgettable. If the plot revolved around Perkins’s character, it might have been more of a horror flick. Instead revolves around loveless marriage and the fucked up issues of sexuality in America, attempting to say . . . something, but never really making a point. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Russell has got an obsession with death dildos. I don’t know what to do with that information. Just an observation.

Crimson Peak - Guillermo del Toro is a complicated director. He’s created some truly remarkable films, but has also created some borderline camp. Crimson Peak splits the difference, much in the same way Pacific Rim does. If you’re a deep fan of a particular genre, in this case Victorian-era romance, then the movie can be an enjoyable addition to the category with its own voice. If you’re not, then the movie’s more eye-roll-inducing moments are less a nod to fandom and more of an uninvited addition to what could be a straight forward film. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Beautiful, but lacking.

Cronos - This del Toro film is a must-see for any fan of his current work. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Even if you're not usually a fan of foreign films, you'll likely appreciate this modern take on the vampire mythology.

Dagon - To be honest, I feel like I should watch this one again. It’s a bit of a jumbled mess, but there are some wacky, gory moments at the end. Similar in tone and style to Dead and Buried. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Seriously, like the last 20 minutes cram so much plot it’s just a series of wtf moments until hitting incest and then nothing really matters.

Darling - Well shot in beautiful black and white with an excellence score, Darling really should receive a better score. However, it fails to be more than the sum of its parts. Borrowing liberally from Kubrick’s one-point perspective and Polanski’s Repulsion in nearly every other way, the film is decent, but fumbles in deciding whether to convince the audience of a clear plot, leaving viewers with closure, yet unsatisfied. Still, worth viewing. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Daughters of Darkness - A Belgian/French erotic vampire film that isn’t as erotic or vampiric as one might hope. Still, legend Delphine Seyrig shines so brightly, it’s catapults are relatively boring film into near greatness. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Dawn of the Dead - The best zombie movie ever made. 5 out of 5 pumpkins.

Day of the Dead - George A. Romero’s end to a near-perfect trilogy isn’t as good as its predecessors, but it’s gorier and somehow more depressing, even with the ending. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Dead and Burried - Starts with a bang, but lags in the middle. The ending tries too hard to surprise you, yet, by the time it’s over you kind of don’t care. Surprisingly well acted and good, creepy tale. Might not be everyone’s bag, but if you’re a tried-and-true horror fan, you’ll enjoy the movie. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun fact: The movie was written by Dan O’Bannon, famed for writing Alien. O’Bannon worked with John Carpenter on a short in film school, quit being a computer animator on Star Wars to be a screenwriter, and became broke and homeless after attaching himself to Jodorowsky’s doomed Dune. He later went on to direct The Return of The Living Dead and write Total Recall. 

Dead Snow - A Nazi zombie bites off a dude's dick. Do you really need any other details? 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Germans be crazy.

Dead Snow 2: Red vs Dead - Not as good as its predecessor, but still fun. Plus, more children die. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Why all the gay jokes, though?

Death Bed: The Bed That Eats - OK, my first nit-pick is that the bed doesn’t eat people so much as it dissolves people. But it still makes chewing sounds? Whatever. A bizarre concept that swings for seriousness and utterly fails due to its lack of plot and extremely low budget. Kinda of weird, but ultimately pretty boring. 1 out of 5 pumpkins.

Death Spa - Hilariously bad. Super 80s. I can’t say this is a good film, but I would recommend watching it for the kitsch value. What if a ghost haunted a gym? Instant money maker. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun fact: the project came about due to shepherding from Walter Shenson, who got rich producing A Hard Day’s Night and Help!, and the lead actor, who plays a gym manager, was an actual gym manager in L.A. at the time.

Deathgasm - Imagine if Scott Pilgrim vs. the World was about a New Zealand metal band and not as good, but still pretty OK. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Deep Red (aka Profondo Rosso, aka The Hatchet Murders) - Dario Argento’s 1975 film is more polished than 1977′s Suspiria, which is a bit surprising. However, that doesn’t necessarily make it a better film. Where Suspirira’s fever dream colors and superior soundtrack, also by Goblin, shines, Deep Red doesn’t quite land. The camera work here is better, though, as is much of acting. But there’s a lot of let downs, such as the opening psychic bowing out and never really coming up again, the boorish male lead and oddly timed humor, and the final reveal, which is anti-climatic. Still, an overall great horror movie. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Def by Tempation - I really enjoyed this film, despite it not being the most skillful directed or the most incredible script. The plot is compelling, the jokes are pretty funny, and the angles and lighting are really well done despite the limited budget. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Admittedly, Kadeem Hardison nostalgia helps.

Demons - Multiple people recommended this to me, and I can see why considering the Dario Argento connection. Unfortunately, the premise is more exciting than the execution. Poorly acted and poorly dubbed, the gore doesn’t do enough to hold one’s attention. There’s a scene where a guy rides around on a dirt bike killing demons with a samurai sword. At least that happens. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Is the ticket-taker in on it? She works in the demon theater, right? So, why is she being hunted? Also, where the fuck did the helicopter come from?

The Descent - Some of Earth’s hottest, most fit women embark on a spelunking adventure with a recently traumatized friend. Aside from a couple of lazy devices that put the team in greater peril than necessary, the movie quickly and cleverly puts the cavers into a horrifying survival scenario that few others in the genre have matched. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Without giving too much away, be sure you get the original, unrated cut before watching this flick.

The Devil’s Backbone - Though del Toro’s debut, Cronos, is more original and imaginative, this is much more honed. Not necessarily frightening, but tense and dreadful through out, laying open the horror war inflicts on all it touches. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Devil’s Candy - More of a serial killer thriller than a horror, but the supernatural elements raise this movie to better-than-average heights. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. The real lesson is this movie is that cops won’t save you, ONLY METAL CAN SAVE YOU!

Don't Be Afraid of the Dark - The biggest upside to this movie is that it was produced by Guillermo del Toro. The biggest downside is that it's not directed by Guillermo del Toro. Still, the director gets credit for making a child the main character; never an easy task. To the little girl's credit, she's a better actor than Katie Holmes, no surprise, and Guy Pierce. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. With a bit more gore and stylistic pauses, this could have been a 4. This movie proves why killing kids is more fun than kids who kill, and also that every male protagonist in every horror movie is dumb dick.

Don’t Look Now - Well-acted and interesting, Nicolas Roeg’s adaptation is a high-water mark of the 1970s premier horror. The only real complaint is that the ending—while good and obviously ties it all together—is nonsensical. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Donald Sutherland fucks.

Event Horizon - “This ship is fucked.” “Fuck this ship!” “Where we’re going, we don’t need eyes to see.” These are quotes from, and also the plot of, Event Horizon. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. The most disturbing part of the whole production might be Sam Neil’s attempt to be a sexual icon.

The Evil Dead - Though The Shining is the best horror movie ever made, The Evil Dead is my favorite. Funny, creepy, well-shot on a shoestring budget, it's the foundation for most modern horror flicks, more so than Night of the Living Dead in some fashions. See it immediately, if you haven't. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Bruce fuckin' Campbell.

Evil Dead (2013) - Not entirely bad, and even takes the original plot in more realistic places, like the character having to detox. But is that what we really need? The fun of the original is its low budget, odd humor, and DIY grit. I guess if you really want a “darker” version, it’s this. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Better than The Texas Chainsaw Massacre remake, about as good as the Carrie remake, I guess.

Evil Dead II - I have to respect Sam Raimi because it’s like he got more budget and did everything possible to try and make this movie suck just as a fuck you to the studio. All the creepy parts of the original are over-the-top, there’s zero character development—just faces on a stage, and it’s seemingly a crash-grab to set up Army of Darkness more than anything else. That said, it’s kind of boring outside of a couple gory scenes. It’s fun, but not that funny. It’s scary, but more gauche than anything. An exercise in excess, yet a decent one somehow. My biggest complaint is that Evil Dead is great with Bruce Campbell, but would have been good with almost anyone; whereas Evil Dead II is only good because it’s Bruce Campbell. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Elvira: Mistress of the Dark - This movie is nothing but puns and tit jokes. But clever ones! Pretty okay with that. Or maybe it's a statement on third-wave feminism in spoof form? Probably not. At one point an old people orgy breaks out at a small town morality picnic, but it's a PG-13 movie so it doesn't get very fun. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Boooooooooobs.

Elvira's Haunted Hills - A pretty disappointing follow-up to what was a fun, 1980s romp. Instead of poking fun at uptight Protestants, Elvira’s just kind of a dick to her servant. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Even the boob jokes are flat.

The Endless - More sci-fi than horror, and not the most deftly produced, still an original concept that’s pulled off well. 3 out 5 pumpkins. Maybe this should get a higher ranking. It’s good! Not exactly scary, but good.

Equinox - Decided to give another older Criterion Collection film a try. Though there are some clever tricks in the movie, especially for its time -- like an extended cave scene that's just a black screen -- the poor sound, monsters that look children's toys, and general bad acting drag this movie down to nothing but background noise that's easy to ignore. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. Whatever contributions this movie may have made to the industry, its not worth your time unless studying for a film class.

Excision - Less of an outright horror movie and more of a disturbing tale of a young necrophiliac, the film tries its best to summon the agnst of being a teen, but falls short of better takes, like Teeth. Still, pretty good. Traci Lords is great and John Waters plays a priest. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Exorcist - The slow pace and attention to character backstory is more moving than the shocking scenes you've no doubt heard about, even if you haven't seen the film. The pacing is slow compared to most movies today, but the drawn out scenes, like in Rosemary's Baby, help convey the sense of dread. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Believe.

Eyes Without a Face - One of the more remarkable things about this French 1960′s near-masterpiece is how carefully it walked the line between gore and taboo topics in order to pass European standards. The villain isn’t exactly sympathetic, but carries at least some humanity, giving the story a more realistic, and therefore more frightening quality. The only, only thing that holds this film back is the carnivalesque soundtrack that could have been foreboding. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. A must watch for any horror fan.

The Fly - Cronenberg's fan-favorite film is delightful, though it’s not as great as Scanners or Videodrome, in my humble opinion. Jeff Goldblum is, of course, terrific. If you haven’t seen it, see it! 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Where’d he get the monkey, though? Seems like it’d be hard to just order a monkey. The 80s were wild, man.

The Fog - A rare miss for John Carpenter’s earlier work. There’s nothing outright wrong or bad about this movie, but it’s not particularly scary and the plot is rather slow. That said, it’s soundly directed. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. If you’re a Carpenter fan, it’s still worth watching.

Forbidden World - Another Roger Corman cult classic, this one made immediately after the much larger budget Galaxy of Terror, mostly because Corman had spent so much on the first set (designed by James Cameron) and thought of a way to make another low-budget flick with a much smaller cast and recycled footage from Battle Beyond the Stars. Even more of a complete rip-off of Alien, with some Star Wars and 2001: A Space Odyssey bit sprinkled in. Perhaps because it’s far less serious and revels in its pulp, it’s somehow better than Galaxy of Terror, which is more ambitious—you know, for a Corman b-movie. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. No worm sex scene, though.

Frankenhooker - Frank Henenlotter‘s 1990 black comedy is over-the-top in almost every way, perhaps best encapsulated by the introduction of Super Crack that makes sex workers, and one hamster, explode. But with a title like Frankenhooker, you get what you expect. Hell, it even manages to sneak in an argument for legalizing prostitution. If you’re a fan of zany, exploitation in the vein of Re-Animator, you’ll enjoy it. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Friday the 13th - Terrifically balanced between campy and creepy, with a soundtrack that’s twice as good as it needs to be. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Worth watching every year.

The Frighteners - Michael J. Fox, everyone! Robert Zemeckis & Peter Jackson - ugh. It didn't even take 20 minutes for the racial stereotypes to kick in. Unlike the trope of youth in most horror movies, everyone in this movie looks old. Holy shit, did anyone else remember Frank Busey was in this movie? Michael J. Fox is a bad driver in this movie. He was also in a car accident that gave him supernatural sense. Jokes. Apparently they tried to make it look like this movie was shot in the Midwestern United States, but it was filmed in New Zealand. It's clearly a coastal or water based mountain town, in like dozens of shots. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Cheesy without being completely campy, it's also family friendly. If this were any other genre, this would likely be a two.

From Beyond - Stewart Gordon’s follow-up to Re-Animator isn’t as fun, even with some impressively gory special effects. Viewers are throw into a story with little regard for character, which doesn’t really matter, but is still a bit of a left down when you find yourself wondering how a BDSM-inclined psychiatrist builds a bomb from scratch. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. It’ll stimulate your pineal gland!

Funny Games (2007) - A fairly straightforward home invasion horror achieves greatness thanks to Michael Haneke‘s apt directing and powerful performances by Naomi Watts and Michael Pitt. Like with Psycho, some of the most horrifying parts are what comes after. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. The fourth wall breaking is an odd touch, but thankfully and surprisingly doesn’t distract.

The Fury - Brian De Palma’s follow-up to Carrie is a major let down. Despite a fairly charismatic Kirk Douglas and score by John Williams, the two-hour run time drags and drags. Attempting to combine horror and an action-thriller, the film waffles between genres without ever rising above either. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. It’s not explicitly bad; just a bore to watch.

Galaxy of Terror - Roger Corman produced this movie as was to try and capitalize off the success of Alien, but even with that shallow motivation it’s better than it needed to be. Staring Erin Moran of Happy Days fame and celebrated actor Ray Walston, Galaxy of Terror has an uneven cast, made all the more puzzling by Sid Haig. Though “the worm sex scene” is likely the reason it achieved cult status, James Cameron’s production is top-notch and was clearly the foundation for his work on Aliens. The ending even hints at the future of Annihilation. Does all this make it a good movie? Not really, but it’s not terrible either. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Get Out - A marvelous debut for Jordan Peele, who—given his comedy background—was able to land some downright chilling moments alongside some mostly well-timed jokes. Unfortunately, not all of them as well timed, especially the drop-in moments with the lead character’s TSA buddy. Peele originally had the film end less optimistically, but wanted audiences to ultimately walk away feeling good. Maybe not the most artistic choice, but certainly the smart one given the film’s acclaim. It’s easy to see why Get Out has cemented itself alongside The Stepford Wives as a smart, “in these times” commentary about society, but it’s also just a really well-paced, well-shot, well-acted film. With two other horror projects immediately set, it’ll be exciting to see just how much Peele will add to the genre. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. America’s worst movie critic, Armond White, said Get Out was “an Obama movie for Tarantino fans” as if that was a bad thing. Idiot.

Ginger Snaps - A delightfully playful but still painful reminder of what it was like being a teenager while still being a gore-fest. A must for anyone who was emo. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Out by sixteen or dead on the scene.

A Girl Walks Home Alone at Night - An almost flawless picture. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Bonus: nearly everyone in this movie is insanely hot.

Green Room - Surviving a white supremacist rally in the Pacific Northwest is no joke. The region is the unfortunate home to violently racist gangs, clinging to the last shreds of ignorant hate. Though fading, some of the movements mentioned in the movie, like the SHARPs, are grounded in recent history. Mainly a gory survival-flick, the movie sneaks in some surprisingly tone-appropriate humor. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. No one’s island band should be Misfits.

A Ghost Story (2017) - Yes, this isn’t a horror. It’s a drama. Don’t care; including it anyway. It’s unnerving in the way that it makes you consider your own mortality and the lives of the people who you’ve touched, and how all of that won’t last as long as an unfeeling piece of furniture or the wreckage of home soon forgot. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Ghostbusters (1984) - “It’s true. This man has no dick.” 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Halloween (1978) - One of the best openings of any horror film. John Carpenter is a genius. 5 out of 5 pumpkins.

Halloween (2018) - Eh. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Hardware - A very unhelpful Marine brings home some post-apocalyptic trash that tries to kill him and his girlfriend, who could absolutely do better than him. Horribly shot and nonsensical, it doesn’t push the boundaries of filth or gore its cult fans adore. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. Do not recommend.

The Haunting (1963) - Not exactly the scariest of movies, but damn well made and just dripping with gay undertones. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Theo is queen femme daddy and we are all here for it.

Haunting on Fraternity Row - The acting is surprisingly decent, but the supernatural elements don’t even start until halfway into the movie, which begins as a sort of handheld, POV style conceit and then abandons all pretense of that set up. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. Not at all scary, but maybe it will make you nostalgic for frat parties, cocaine, and failed threesomes. So.

The Haunting of Julia - Apparently parents in 1970s Britain didn't receive proper Hymlic maneuver treatment, which perhaps made for an epidemic of dead children. As promising as that premise might be, an hour into this movie and there hasn't been any actual haunting. There's a stylish gay best friend (he owns a furniture store) and a dumb dick of an ex-husband, a scene of library research, mistaken visions, etc. All the standards are here, except for the haunting parts. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Well shot but absolutely boring, this is more about a woman's struggle with depression than a horror flick.

Head Count - A great premises that falters in key moments, making the sum of its parts less than its promising potential. For example, there’s no reason to show a CGI monster when you’ve already established its a shape-shifter, the scariest part is that they could be anybody! 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Hellbound: Hellraiser II - I really dislike this movie, not because it’s especially bad, but because it’s a lazy continuation of the first film. Yes, there are a couple of scenes that are squeamishly good, but it spends too much time rehashing the plot of the first and then ending in some grandiose other dimension that has not real impact. Part of the terrifying elements of the first is that the horror is confined to one room in one house. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. It really only gets this many pumpkins because of the mattress scene.

Hellraiser - Truly the stuff nightmares are made of. It’s easy to see why this film became a cult-classic and continues to horrify audiences. That said, the plot is a bit simplistic. Not that the plot is the heart of the film; the objective is for viewers to experience squeamish body mutilation and overall dread, and in that regard it truly delivers. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Hereditary - Toni Collette is a treasure in this dramatic horror about family and loss. Though the truly terrifying bits take too long to ramp up, resulting in a jumbled conclusion, the film is engrossing. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Hocus Pocus - Admittedly, this movie isn’t very good. But its nostalgic charm and constant virgin jokes earns it a higher ranking that it deserves. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. “Max likes your yabbos. In fact, he loves them.”

Honeymoon - Often described as a modern twist on Rosemary’s Baby, this debut from promising director Leigh Janiak takes its time before getting truly creepy. Though there are some gruesome moments, the tense feeling is bound to the two leads, who are able to keep a lingering sense of dread alive without much else to play off. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Host - I was skeptical of this Korean movie based on the sub-par visual affects, but the script, actors, and cinematography were all much better than expected. A genre-bender, as my friend who recommended it described, you'll laugh, you'll cry, you'll cringe. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. If you're a fan of movies like Slither, you'll love this movie.

Hot Fuzz - Second in Three Flavours Cornetto and probably the worst, but still a great movie that gets better on repeat viewing. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

House - A part of the Critereon Collection, this 1977 Japanese movie is a trip and a half that follows the untimely demise of some school girls going to visit their friend's aunt, who turns out to be a witch who eats unwed women. One of the girls is named Kung-Fu and spiritually kicks a demon cat painting until blood pours out everywhere. I guess this is kind of a spoiler, but the movie is such a madcap, magna-influenced experiment there's nothing that can really ruin the experience. Like most anime, this movie also ends with an unnecessary song that drags on for far too long. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. I guess this movie influenced a lot of future work, which make sense. Still, most people would consider this a 1 as it's nearly impossible to follow.

The House at the End of the Street - I only decided to watch this movie because Jennifer Lawrence is in it. This isn't even a real horror movie. It's a serial killer movie with a few thriller moments. My standards are low at this point. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. It's a PG-13 movie, so instead of outright showing you some boobs there's just long, awkwardly placed frames of Jennifer Lawrence in a white tank-top. Oh, America.

The House of the Devil - Though an on-the-nose homage to 70s satanic slow-burns, this Ti West feature moves at a decent pace toward the slasher-like ending, making it better than most of movies it pays tribute to. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. 

The House on Sorority Row - A cookie-cutter college slasher that ends abruptly for no real reason considering how long it sets up its premise. Nothing awful, but nothing original. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Housebound - A fun, Kiwi flick that nicely balances a bit of horror with humor with a strong performance by Morgana O'Reilly. Though the plot takes a couple unnecessary twits towards the end, the gore kicks up and leaves you with a satisfying ending. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Howling - Released the same year as American Werewolf in London, this movie isn’t very good, but it is entertaining. Apparently audiences and critics thought it was funny. Maybe because it makes fun of that Big Sur lifestyle? I dunno. Dick Miller is the best thing in this movie, outside of the special effects. No idea why it spawned several follow ups. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Honestly, why not just lean into The Gift and join The Colony—nice surroundings, sultry nympho, regeneration ability. Some people can’t appreciate nice things.

Humanoids from the Deep - A cult favorite from the Roger Corman camp that borrows heavily from Creature from the Black Lagoon and a bit from Jaws. Initially very well done by director Barbara Peeters, but ultimately released much to her distaste. Peeters shot grisly murder scenes of the men, but used off camera and shadows to show the creatures raping the women. Corman and the editor didn’t think there was enough campy nudity. So they tapped Jimmy T. Murakami and second unit director James Sbardellati to reshoot those scenes, unknown to the cast, and then spliced the more exploitative elements back in for the final version, including a shower scene where it’s abundantly clear a new, more busty actress stands in for actual character. It’s unfortunate Peeters’ creation was essentially stolen from her, as it could have been a more respected film. I mean, how many horror flicks could weave in the economic struggle of small town bigots against a young native man trying save salmon populations? That said, the cut we got is pervy romp that’s still a boat-load of b-movie fun. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. James Horner on the score.

The Hunger - First off, David fucking Bowie. Not to be outdone, Susan Sarandon and Catherine Deneuve are absolute knock-outs. Horror stories are often rooted in the erotic, often the unknown or shameful aspects of ingrained morality manifested in the grotesque and deadly. When done positively and well, it can be a powerful device. It’s a shame more recent horror movies don’t move beyond the teen-to-college-year characters for their sexual icons, too often used as sacrificial lambs, because mature sexuality can be far more haunting. As we age our connections to the meaning of love grow deeper and more complex; immorality does not offer the same luster. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Damn impressive for a first major film. Fun fact: Tony Scott wanted to adapt Interview with the Vampire, but MGM gave him The Hunger instead. It bombed and he went back to making commercials. Then Jerry Bruckheimer got him to direct Top Gun, which made $350M.

Hush - Though the masked stranger, home invasion plot is well-worn, this movies provides just enough shifts to keep things interesting and frightening. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Watch out, Hot John!

I Am the Pretty Thing that Lives in the House - With only an hour and a half run time, this film still drags. Part of that is deliberate. The foundation of the film is its atmosphere and the lingering uneasiness that it wishes audiences to dwell in. But by the end, you’re left with nothing more than a simple, sad story. It’s similar to the feeling of overpaying for a nice-looking appetizer and never getting a full meal. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Initiation - This movie has every 80s hour cliché necessary: minimalist synth soundtrack, naked co-eds, looming POV shots, hunky Graduate professor, escaped psychiatric patients, prophecy nightmares, and creepy a child. Yes, everything but actual horror. An hour into the horror movie and only one person has died. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. There is no point to this movie, unless you're a huge fan of the princess in Space Balls.

The Innkeepers - The second of Ti West’s two well-received horror originals before he set out for TV and found-footage anthologies, The Innkeepers may not get as much love as The House of the Devil, but should. The dual-leads (Sara Paxton and Pat Healy) are more fun to watch than Jocelin Donahue‘s performance and the tone more even-set throughout the film. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Innocents - Reportedly Martin Scorsese’s favorite horror movie, it’s easy to see how big of an impact it had on the genre (especially The Others) with sweeping camera angles, slow but still haunting pace, and remarkable sound design. Perhaps it’s not as well-received by modern viewers, but it’s no doubt a classic. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Intruder (1989) - An enjoyable slasher flick from long-time Sam Raimi collaborator Scott Spiegel that takes places in a grocery store after hours that doesn’t try to do too much or take itself too seriously and features some over-the-top gore. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. “I’m just crazy about this store!”

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1956) - A terrific example of how to build paranoid fear. That its political allegory can be interpreted on both sides of McCarthyism makes it all the better. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Original ending, ftw.

Invasion of the Body Snatchers (1978) - A rare remake that’s almost as good as the original. Terrific use of San Fransisco as a setting, Goldblum Goldblum’ing it up, solid pacing—great film! 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Plus, nudity!

The Invitation - More of a tense drama until the final moments, this film deserves praise for holding viewers’ attention for so long before the horror tipping point. Further details could spoil the story, but like many tales in the genre the lesson here is always trust your gut. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Ugh, Californians.

It (2017) - Stephen King’s nearly 1,200 page 1986 national bestseller captures the attention of readers for a number of reason: it’s coming-of-age story is horrific even without supernatural elements, it’s cast of characters resemble classic American archetypes from many of King’s other works, and its adaptation into a four hour mini-series staring Tim Curry as Pennywise in 1990 has haunted the imaginations of children for decades. Unfortunately, like the mini-series, the movie fails to deliver the long, unsettling moments that make the novel so thrilling. King’s story is a cocaine-fueled disaster that throws everything and the kitchen sink at viewers when compressed onto the screen. The truly terrifying elements of the book lose their impact when delivered one after another without time to feel personally connected to each character. The genius of It is the paranormal evil’s ability to hone in on a person’s darkest fears. Without deep empathy for all of The Losers, the individualized psychological torture is muted when reduced to jump-cuts. For what it’s worth, the film does its best with a jumble of sub-plots and the Pennywise origin story, but as the tone bounces from wide shots of small town Maine and the painful trauma of abuse to titled zooms of CGI monsters and an over-the-top soundtrack, something is lost. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Publishing office, 1985: “So, wait. The kids fuck?” the editor asks, disgusted. King vacuums another white rail into his nasal cavity. “Huh?! Oh. Yeah, sure. I guess. Does that happen? Jesus, I’m so fucked up right now. What day is it? What were you saying? Yeah, yeah, yeah. It’s like, love is the opposite of fear, bridge to adulthood or something. Do you have any booze around here?”

It Comes At Night - More utterly depressing than terrifying and a reminder that the greatest horror we’ll likely ever face is simply the limits of our own humanity. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

It Follows - An uncomfortable and honest take on how sexuality is intertwined with the horror myth. One for the ages. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. The real terror is HPV. 

Jaws - A masterpiece that’s too easily remembered for its cultural impact than artist merit. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. R.I.P. Chrissie Watkins, you were a free spirit as wild as the wind.

The Killing of a Sacred Deer - Yorgos Lanthimos‘s follow up to The Lobster isn’t as well done, but the wide shots, odd lines, and increasingly bizzare build-up are all present. The finale is near perfect, but takes a bit too long to reach. I’d really like to give this film a higher score, but alas: 3 out of 5 pumpkins. There’s nothing wrong, yet something is missing.

Kiss of the Damned - There are handful of potential interesting scenes and the internal drama of a vampire family is a potentially the foundation for a good film. Despite this, Xan Cassavetes’s film never manages to actually be all that interesting. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. There’s nothing terrible here, but also nothing remarkable.

Knock Knock - Two hotties do my man Keanu dirty. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Eli Roth is a better actor than director.

The Lair of the White Worm - A campy demon flick from Altered States director Ken Russell. Staring Hugh Grant, Peter Capaldi, and Amanda Donohoe, the plot is loosely based on Bram Stroker’s last novel, which has a few similarities to H. P. Lovecraft's novella The Shadow Over Innsmouth, which was made into the Spanish film Dagon. Very British all around, a bit like Hot Fuzz meets Clue, this could have been played straight and potentially been scary, but Russell didn’t intend to be serious. A topless snake demon wearing a death strap-on to sacrafice a virgin can’t be taken as *cinema* after all. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Not great film by any stretch, but pretty fun!

Lake Mungo - Presented as a made-for-TV type of mystery documentary, this could have really turned out poorly. Despite some unnecessary plot additions, this movie really stuck with me. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Sadder than you might expect.

The Langoliers - Balki Bartokomous is the villain in this made-for-TV special. He is terrible and the rest of the cast is packed with 90s no-name actors and a child actor that might as well be the blind version of a kid Liz Lemon. You know how Stephen King writes himself into every. single. story? In this case it's not even as a plot device, it's just a character to fill space like an obvious oracle. In the book, the character tearing paper is a subtle, unsettling mannerism you assume happens quietly in the background, but because television writers treat their audiences like distracted five year-olds, this action becomes a reoccurring focus with no point or context. One of the best parts about the book was imagining the wide, empty space of the Denver airport. Of course, shutting down an entire airport would be expensive, so most of the interactions take place in a single terminal, which is just as boring as being stuck at the airport yourself. Two 1994-era Windows screen savers eat Balki at the end, then, like, all of reality, maaaaaaaan. The more I think about it, this story might have been the unconscious basis for a strong Salvia freak out I once had. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. Dear male, white writers, we all know that no one actually fucks writers in real life - that's why you're all so angry. Stop creating these protagonists equipped with impossible pussy-magnets. Stop. Staaaaaaaahp.

The Last House of the Left - Wes Craven’s debut isn’t much of a horror, but a revenge tale that contains no build up or sense of dread, but an immediate and unrelenting assault of its characters and the audience. It’s well-made, and the rape revenge tale is older than Titus Andronicus, but that doesn’t mean it’s something worth viewing. There’s no joy; it’s Pink Flamingos without the camp. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. No doubt impactful, but really best viewed as a piece of history with a critical eye and not for entertainment.

The Legend of Hell House - A well made haunted house film that holds up forty years later. Pamela Franklin, playing a medium, carries much of the movie. Her foil, the physicist, is a strange character. He apparently believes people, and even dead bodies, can manifest surreal, electromagnetic energies, but not in “surviving personalities.” Yet, he still orders this giant “reverse energy” machine to “drain” the house of its evil before they even set out to research house. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Dangerous diner parties, the insatiable Mrs. Barret, mirrored ceilings and kick ass Satan statues everywhere - this house seems pretty great, actually.

The Legend of the 7 Golden Vampires - A blast to watch, but not truly great. Unfortunately, I’ve only seen the edited version (The 7 Brothers Meet Dracula) that mixes up the beginning for no real reason and wonder how much better the original cut might be. Still, vampires! Kung Fu! Peter Cushing! 3 out of 5 pumpkins.


Let the Right One In - Beautiful and terribly haunting. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Likely the best horror movie this generation will get.

Let Me In - Surprising good. Unnecessary, yes. But still good. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun fact: I once watched an *ahem* found copy of Matt Reeves‘s Dawn of the Planet of the Apes without the ape subtitles and thought it was a brave choice to make the audience sympathize with the common humanity among our species. I was also pretty high.

Life After Beth - Jeff Baena‘s horror comedy features a terrific Aubrey Plaza, but Dane DeHaan’s character leaves a lot to be desired. It seems like the film is trying to save something about life, love, and family, but never finds its voice. A fine, funny movie to watch on a rainy afternoon. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Lifeforce - Directed by Tobe Hooper (The Texas Chainsaw Massacre) and written by Dan O'Bannon (Alien) is a film the suffers from “the disease of more.” The entire concept of space vampires is rad as hell, but a $25 million budget and a 70 mm production couldn’t save what ends up being a boring trod and a jumbled ending that somehow makes major city destruction tiring. Though, to be fair, this was well before Independence Day. Colin Wilson, author of the original source material, said it was the worst movie he has ever seen. I wouldn’t go that far, but during a special 70 mm screening, the theater host chastised the audience in advance to not make fun of the movie during the showing because it was “a great film.” Reader, it is not. But Mathilda May looks real good naked and there are a couple cool, gory shots. So, there’s that. I guess. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Patrick Stewart is in this for all of like 10 minutes, but is still listed as a main character.

The Lighthouse - From The Witch’s Robert Eggers, this film is objectively a great work of art. Brooding, stark, and compelling performances from Willem Dafoe and Robert Pattinson—all the elements add up into a unique and disturbing experience. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. All that said, in the same way I consider Death Spa a 2 pumpkin movie you should see, this is a 4 pumpkin movie you could probably skip. It’s not entertaining in the traditional sense, and likely not one you’d want to really ever see again. The Eggers brothers made something weirdly niche and it’s fine if it stays that way.

Little Evil - A serviceable comedy that isn’t all that scary or even gory, which is a disappointment considering Eli Craig’s Tucker & Dale vs. Evil was so good. There are a few nods to famous horror movies that make a handful of scene enjoyable, but otherwise it’s purely background material. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Little Monsters - A Hulu original that’s pretty fun, if ultimately standing on the shoulders of giants like George A. Romero and Edgar Wright. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

A Lizard in a Woman's Skin - Lucio Fulci’s erotic mystery starts out with groovy sex parties and hallucinations, but quickly gets dull in the middle with extended scenes of psychological assessment, only to wind up where we all started. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Lodge - A good exercise in isolation horror that, while a bit slow, ratchets up the tension and horror with each act. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Damn kids.

The Lost Boys - A fun, campy 80s vampire flick you’ve likely heard of or even seen. I get why it’s cemented in popular culture, but at the end of the day it’s a Joel Schumacher film with a silly plot. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Love Witch - Somewhere between earnest satire and homage, The Love Witch is a well-crafted throwback to 1960s schlock. Weaving in contemporary gender critique, the film is more than just a rehash of its sexual fore-bearers. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Mandy (2018) - Like watching a bad trip from afar, Beyond the Black Rainbow director Panos Cosmatos (son of the Tombstone director) pulls off a trippy, dreadful film that starts out with story that follows logic and consequence before giving over to the full weirdness of Nicholas Cage’s uniquely unhinged style of acting. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Jóhann Jóhannsson’s score is superb.

Midsommar - Though not as good as Aster’s Hereditary, Midsommar sticks with you longer. Eerie throughout and disturbing, but not frightening in the traditional sense, it’s no surprise this film seems to split viewers into devoted fans and downright haters. Florence Pugh’s performance is wonderful and the scenes of drugged-out dread are far better than what was attempted in Climax. Some critics have called the film muddled and shallow, and certainly the “Ugly American” character fits in the later, but I found it to be a remarkably clear vision compared to the jumbled ending of Hereditary. That said, it’s not a scary movie, it’s simply unnerving. Should a male director and writer be the one to tell this tale? Probably not. But it’s not wholly unredemptive. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. I first gave this film 3 pumpkins, but the more I think about it, the more it lingers. That counts for something. One more pumpkin to be exact.

Mimic - Without del Toro’s name attached, perhaps this movie wouldn’t be judged so harshly. Yet, though the shadowy, lingering shots he’s know for give a real sense of darkness to the picture, it’s a chore to sit through and is especially frustrating toward the end. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Mist - Watch the black and white version, which adds an ol’ timey feel to this Lovecraftian tale from Steven King and makes always-outdated CGI a bit more palpable. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Monster (2016) - From The Strangers Bryan Bertino, this monster movie that ties in a trouble mother/daughter relationship doesn’t ever overcome its limitations and poor character decisions that get protagonists in deeper trouble. Zoe Kazan does what she can to carry the role. Not bad, but not much below the surface. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Monsters (2010) - A slow-burn that relies on its actors to push the suspense of a road-trip-style plot, leaving the special effects for subtle and beautiful moments. Arguably more of a sci-fi thriller than a true horror flick, it’s still worth viewing if you’re looking for something spooky. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

mother! - Like many of Aronosky’s films, mother! is difficult to define by genre. Though not a typical haunted house film, the bloody, unsettling aspects make it more than a typical psychological thriller. Haunting in a similar fashion of Black Swan, yet broader in theme like The Fountain, this movie is challenging, disturbing and frustrating in the sense that, as a mere viewer, you’re left feeling like there’s something you’ll never fully understand despite being beaten over the head. An not-so-subtle allegory about love, death, creation, mankind, god, and the brutality women must endure, it’s a hideous reminder that, upon even the briefest reflection, life’s cosmic journey is macabre. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Ms. 45 - Ahead of its time, especially considering the unfortunate “rape revenge” sub-genre that seemed to cater to male fantasy than female empowerment. Still, it’s slow build and random scenes toward the finale leave it wanting. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Oh, the knife is a dick. I get it. 

Murder Party - A bit like Tucker and Dale vs. Evil, but for New York art kids. Even for being a horror comedy, there’s only like 20 minutes of horror, which is too bad as there’s material to mine instead of a prolonged rooftop chase scene. If this was a studio production, it’d probably just get 2 pumpkins, but given it’s $200k budget and at-the-time unknown cast, it’s a solid first feature for Jeremy Saulnier and Macon Blair, who went on to make some truly great films. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

National Lampoon’s Class Reunion - Flat out awful; neither a comedy nor a horror. Writer John Hughes claims he was fired from production, though that doesn’t hold much water considering he’s credited as “Girl with bag on head” and went on to write several other Lampoon movies. Director Michael Miller didn’t make another feature film for almost thirty years, which wasn’t long enough. 0 out of 5 pumpkins.

Near Dark - Kathryn Bigelow‘s sophomore film is hampered by its ultimate ending, but the story is original and well produced. Even Bill Paxton’s over-the-top performance is enjoyable. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Worst. Vampire. Ever.

The Neon Demon - A spiritual successor to Suspiria, this film from Drive director Nicolas Winding Refn is beautifully shot, but ultimately empty. While both Jena Malone and Keanu Reeves breathe life into their small roles, the cast of models rarely shine. The horrific ending goes a step too far without lingering long enough to truly shock. Though much better than the extremely similar Starry Eyes, it’s difficult to give this film a higher rating. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Worth watching for a couple standout scenes. 

Night of the Living Dead - Viewed today the film seems almost tame, but in 1968 it was lambasted for being too gorey and sparked calls for censorship. And to its credit, there wasn’t anything else like it at the time. Romero’s incredibly small budget, Duane Jones‘s great performance, and the film’s unintended symbolism make its success all the more impressive. Kudos to MoMA and The Film Foundation for restoring this important piece of cinema history. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. I argue this is a sci-fi film, if you think about it.

A Night to Dismember (The "Lost" Version) - This version appeared on YouTube in the summer of 2018, decades after it was originally filmed. The version that was released in 1989 on VHS, and later in 2001 on DVD, was entirely re-shot with adult film actress Samantha Fox after a disgruntled processing employee destroyed the original negatives. The re-shoot gave the released version of movie its “sexplotation” vibe that director Doris Wishman was know for producing, but he original version is more of a straight-forward psychotic slasher movie with only a scene of campy nudity and stars Diana Cummings, instead of Fox. Gone is the striptease, sex hallucinations, detective character, and asylum plot that were slapped together in the released version, leaving a still somewhat jumbled story of a young woman who goes on a killing spree after becoming possessed by her dead mother, who died in pregnancy, leaving her an orphan. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Poor Mary. Poor Vicki.

Nightmare on Elm Street - Why this movie sparked a generations-long series is almost as puzzling as how Children of the Corn pulled it off as well. The movie flat out ignores basic storytelling devices. Recalling the overall plot, you’re not even sure if the main character is better off alive or dead, given the horrifying reality she already exists within. Consider this: Her father is an authoritarian cop leading the world’s worse police force and her mother is a drunk, possessive vigilante arsonist. University doctors are so inept they focus solely on Colonial-era medicine to the point of ignoring a metaphysical phenomenon, believing teenage girls are attention-starved enough to smuggle hats embroidered with a dead child-killer’s name inside their vaginas to a sleep deprivation study. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. So much for the classics. At least this gave us the future gift of inspiring Home Alone-style defense antics.

Not of This Earth (1988) - This film, and I mean that artistically, was made because the director, Jim Wynorskin, bet he could remake the original on the same inflation-adjusted budget and schedule as the 1957 version by Roger Corman. Traci Lords makes her non-adult film debut and is a better actor than the rest of the cast combined. The gem isn’t so bad it’s good, it’s so godawful it’s incredible. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. I was looking for the trashiest horror movie on Netflix, and I believe I have found it.

One Cut of the Dead - Know as little as possible going into this one. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. It’s impossible to not enjoy this film.

One Dark Night - Starts out interesting, but quickly gets forgetable even with the central location of a haunted cemetery. Worth putting on the background. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Aaaaaadddaaaammmm Weeeeessssst.

The Others - Well-paced, nicely shot, superior acting by Nicole Kidman, ominous tone through out, great ending. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. One of my personal favorites.

Pan's Labyrinth - del Torro’s best work, combining the tinges of war dread and the fantastical elements that would go on to be a key part of his other films. Pale Man is one of the creepiest monsters to ever be captured on screen. Perhaps the biggest horror is that though you’ll cheer for the anarchists, the historical fact is that the Nationalists won and established a dictatorship for nearly forty years. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. No god, no country, no master.

The People Under the Stairs - When the main character of a horror movie would be better placed in a zany after-school sitcom, the entire story is bound to fail. Little did I know how far. Twin Peaks actors aside, the rest of the this movie is so convoluted and poorly explained that it made me hate Panic Room somewhat less. They can't all be winners. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. At the end of this movie, a house explodes and money rains down on poor, mostly black people. Thanks, Wes Craven!

Pet Sematary (2019) - Uninspiring, uneven, and mostly uneventful. 1 out of 5 pumpkins.

Poltergeist - If you haven't seen this Steven Speilberg produced & written, but not directed horror movie, it's worth a modern viewing. Original, yet tinged with all the classic elements of fear, this movie manages to tug on the heartstrings like a family-friendly drama while still being creepy as hell. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. The best, most expensive Holiday Inn commercial ever made.

Pontypool - Good, but not as great as hyped. Characters are introduced haphazardly and the explanation for the horror barely tries to make sense. Still, not bad for a movie with essentially three characters stuck in a single location. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Possession (1981) - Described by some die-hard horror fans as a “must see,” I guess I agree. It’s by no means a masterpiece, but it’s bizarre enough to take the time to check out. It’s a sort of Cold War psychological horror as if written by Clive Barker and directed by David Cronenberg. Of course that comparison is necessary for American readers, but Polish director Andrzej Żuławski is an art-house favorite, whose second film was banned by his home government, causing him to move to France. Often panned for “over acting,” Isabelle Adjani actually won best actress at Cannes in 1981. Though, you may find one particular scene as if Shelley Duvall is having a bad acid trip. Part of the appeal of seeing this film is the difficulty in finding a copy. The DVD is out of print, and the new Mondo Blu-ray is limited to 2,000 copies at $70 a piece. Good luck. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. If you’re looking for something weird and very European, seek it out.

Prometheus - Perhaps because Ridley Scott’s return the franchise was expected to be such a welcome refresher after the abysmal failures of others in the series, this one was a pretty big let down. Though there are some cool concepts and frightening scenes, there are anger-inducing plot mistakes and zero sympathetic characters. Michael Fassbender’s performance is terrific, yet not enjoy to be an enjoyable view. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Psycho - Not as great at The Birds, but still one of the best. The superb shots, painfully slow clean up of the first kill, it’s no wonder why the film is landmark for horror. Anthony Perkins is tremendous. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Remember when Gus Van Sant remade this shot-for-shot for literally no reason and lost $30 million? It’s like he has to make one really terrible bomb after each critical hit and then crawl back again.

Pumpkinhead - The production quality of this 80s horror flick is surprisingly high, especially the Henson-like monster. Long story short - asshole dude bro accidentally kills hick kid, hick father calls up demon to seek revenge. All in all, not a bad movie. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Given the title, the monster's head in this movie is shockingly not very pumpkin-like. Boo.

A Quiet Place - John Krasinski gets a lot of credit for playing a well-intentioned father, which is an easier bridge to his well-known character from The Office, rather than a military member, like in many of his other projects. Emily Blunt is wonderful as is Millicent Simmonds. The creatures are scary, reminiscent of The Demogorgon in Stranger Things, and the plot is decent, even without much of an ending. I’ll be honest, I didn’t really want to enjoy this film as much as I did. It seemed too “mainstream.” And, it is. But it’s also a well-executed, well-acted, well-produced product, which is much more difficult to pull off than it sounds. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Worth recommending to friends who aren’t even horror fans.

Rabid - No where near the level of Cronenberg’s best or even his subsequent film The Brood, but still very good. Apparently Cronenberg wanted Sissy Spacek to play the lead, but was shot down by the producers. Obviously Marilyn Chambers was selected to play up the porn star angle in the hopes of greater marketing for the indie, horror film out of Canada, but she does a great job in her first mainstream role. If you like any Cronenberg has done, you should watch this one. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Raw - A terrific coming-of-age, sexual-awakening, body-horror film that manages to retain its heart even as it pushes the limits. One of the best horror movies of the last decade. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Nom-nom.

Re-Animator - Creepy actor Jeffrey Combs is also in The Frighteners, which makes it a good nod in that flick. "Say hello to these, Michael!" When you see it, you'll get it. What can be said of this movie? It's crazy. It's great. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Gory, campy, funny and scary all at once, a definite classic.

Ready or Not - I wouldn’t go so far as to call this movie “clever,” but it’s certainly better than its absurd premise. Samara Weaving’s performance is really the only thing that keeps people watching. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Killing all the attractive help is played off as a joke, but . . . it’s not? At least rich people die.

Repulsion - After having to listen to her sister being drilled by some limey prick night after night in their shared apartment and a series of unwanted street advances triggers her past trauma, a young woman rightfully kills a stalker turned home intruder and her rapist landlord. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Return of The Living Dead  - This movie doesn’t give a wink and nod to horror tropes, it reaches out of the fourth wall to slap you in the face to create new ones. There’s an entire character that is just naked the whole movie. I understand that just because it’s a joke it doesn’t mean it’s not still sexist. But, also, you know, boobs. 4 out 5 pumpkins. What was created as camp became the foundation for modern zombies.

Return of the Living Dead III - A love story of sorts that takes a more series turn than the original. At first, I didn’t enjoy the uneven balance of camp and earnestness, but it oddly grows on you. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Worth watching to see what you think.

The Ritual - A Netflix original that is better than it needs to be about regret, trauma, and fear that gets right into the action and wraps fairly satisfying. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Rosemary's Baby - If you're looking for a sure party killer this October, put on this number and watch your guests fall asleep! Often forgot, the beginning and end of Rosemary's Baby are terrifying, expertly filmed scenes of dread, but the middle is a two-hour wink to the film's conclusion revolving around an expectant mother. Still, few other films can capture fear the way Polanski's does; all the more impressive that it stands up today. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. If you haven't seen this film, you owe it to yourself to watch it this season.

Scanners - Cronenberg’s 1981 film feels like a much more successful version of what De Palma attempted with The Fury. Dark, paranoid, and ultra-gory in key scenes, Scanners isn’t quite the perfect sci-fi horror, but it’s damn close. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Scream - For a movie that birthed an annoying amount of sequels and spoofs, it's sort of sad that Wes Craven's meta-parody ended up creating a culture of the very movies he was trying to rail against. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Worth watching again, even if you saw it last year.

Sea Fever - A good, but not great, tense thriller on sea. Plus, an important lesson in quarantine. Ultimately, it doesn’t go far enough to present its horror. A well-made, and even well-paced film with a limited cast and sparse special effects, though. There’s nothing explicitly “wrong” as the movie progresses, but a tighter script and bigger ratcheting of the horror could have made it a classic. The ending is kinda cheesy the more I think about it. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Could’ve used a sex scene with some impending doom is all I’m saying!

The Sentinel - I really wanted to love this one. Downstairs lesbians! Birthday parties for cats! Late 70s New York! Alas, its shaky plot and just baffling lack of appropriate cues make it mostly a jumbled mess only worth watching if that slow-burn 70s horror aesthetic is your thing. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Shallows - Mostly a vehicle for Blake Lively’s launch from TV to the big screen, this movies isn’t particularly good or bad. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. The shark has a powerful vendetta against Lively. What did she do?!

Shaun of the Dead - First in Three Flavours Cornetto, some of the jokes don’t land as well as they did in 2004, but still a great spin on the zombie genre with loads of laughs and a bit of heart. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Shining - The pinnacle of the form. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. "So why don't you start now and get the fuck outta here!" Harsh, but come on, Wendy kinda sucks.

Shivers - Cronenberg’s 1975 shocker flick is . . . fine. You certainly get to see how some of his body horror themes started. Cronenberg himself seems to see it as more of a film to watch to understand what not to do as a young director. If you’re a completist, definitely check it out. Otherwise just skip to 1977′s Rabid, if you’re looking for Cronenberg’s earlier work. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Not bad considering it was shot in two weeks.

Silent Night, Deadly Night - Whoo, boy. This one’s a ride. A decidedly anti-PC flick that caused calls for boycotts when it was first released, this movie is full of assault and uncomfortable situations. It’s also hilarious, gory, and worth watching in a large group. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Punish.

Sleepaway Camp - I must be missing something, because like Children of the Corn, I can’t understand why this movie became a cult-classic. A guy who openly talks about wanting to rape children is gruesomely maimed, so there’s that? I guess. A couple of these “kids” are definitely 34, while others are 14. Is this the basis for Wet Hot American Summer? I don’t know or care. 2 out 5 pumpkins. Just watch Friday the 13th.

Slither - Almost on the level of other spoofs, but with a few groan-worthy moments. Definitely one to watch if looking for something fun. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Not for the bug fearing.

The Slumber Party Massacre - Rita Mae Brown wrote this movie as a parody of the slasher genre that spawned so many Halloween copycats. It’s a bit unfortunate that we didn’t get her version. Author of pioneering lesbian novel Rubyfruit Jungle, Brown’s script was turned into a more straight-forward flick, giving the movie some baffling humor, like when one of the girls decides to eat the pizza from the dead delivery boy, and some untended humor, like the Sylvester Stallone issue of Playgirl. Lesbians undertones still prevail, as do lingering shots of gratuitous nudity, and enough phallic symbolism to write a paper about. All in all, a fun, albeit uneven movie with pretty decent dialogue. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun fact: Director Amy Holden Jones got her start as an assistant on Taxi Driver, passed on editing E.T. after Roger Corman offered to finance early filming for her directorial debut, and later went on to write Mystic Pizza, Beethoven, Indecent Proposal, and The Relic. Bonus fact: Playgirl was able to get nude photos of Stallone based on his first movie The Party at Kitty and Stud’s (aka The Italian Stallion), for which Stallone was reportedly paid $200 to star in during a period in his life when he was desperate and sleeping in a New York bus station.

The Slumber Party Massacre II - If the first movie was a knock-off of Halloween, this is a bizarre rip-off of The Nightmare on Elm Street with a rockabilly twist. It’s hard to tell if this is a parody or a sort of musical vehicle for the Driller Killer, who—to his credit—is somehow almost charismatic enough to it pull off. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. Somehow the weirdest movie I’ve ever watched.

The Slumber Party Massacre III - A return to form, in some respects. All the elements of the original are there: a slumber party, gratuitous nudity, a drill. But the driller killer’s poor-man’s Patrick Bateman character quickly becomes tired. Not terrible for a slasher flick, but not very good either. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. How many lamps to the head can Ken take? 

Species - If I asked you to name a movie staring Sir Benjamin Kingsley, Alfred Molina, Forest Whitaker and Michelle Williams, would you guess Species? No, no you fucking wouldn't. We all know Species, but I, like most, erased it from my memory. This was helpful for two reasons: first because for about the first half of the movie, you think there might be a decent flick happening - baring some obvious flaws of a blockbuster. Second because - holy shit - you get to see a ton of naked breasts in this movie, like way more than I remember. Unfortunately, about halfway through Species someone must have come in and realized having the B-squad Scully & Mulder be one step behind every instinct killing was boring as shit, and flashing tits every 20 mins wasn't going to hack it. Whatever Hollywood dickbag crafted this turd failed to realize the casting of the actor forever known as Bud from Kill Bill is the only white, macho-postering character that morons want to root for. And so we get a squint-faced protagonist getting blow jobs from a coworker scientist and an ending dumber than the boob tentacles he should have been strangled with. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. There are worse horror movies, but there are also much better ones.

Starry Eyes - A thinly-veiled critique on Hollywood’s abusive history with actresses, the movie starts out well, but lags in the third act before a gruesome finale. Sort of a low-rent Mulholland Drive. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Watch out for that barbell, Ashley. 

The Stuff - Odd, mostly because of its uneven tone. Like if The Blob, The Live, and Canadian Bacon raised a baby and that disappointed its parents, like all babies eventually do. There are some good horror and comedic moments, but none of which make it great. The sound editing is remarkably bad, and the poor cuts make no sense given its scope. Oh well. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Suspiria - More of a focus on set, sound, and color than characters, Suspiria is reminiscent of the Japanese classic House, but with a more straightforward story. The Italian director, English language, and German setting make for an interesting, offbeat feel that adds to the overall weirdness of the movie. One cringe worthy scene in particular makes up for its immediate lack of logic, and the soundtrack by Goblin stands up on its own. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Sexist note: there’s a shocking lack of boobs given the subject matter.

Suspiria (2018) - Another in a long line of unnecessary remakes, though technically more of an homage. Luca Guadagnino’s version was supposedly developed for years alongside Tilda Swinton, who plays three different characters. Truthfully, without any attachment to the original, this could have been a muddled, but remarkable film. Thom Yorke’s score is perfect in certain scenes, yet detracting in others. The plot is similar in this manner. Some scenes are haunting and dense, but others needlessly detailed. The dance scenes are terrific, but weighed down by the larger war themes. The ending’s gore-fest is hampered by too much CGI, but still demonically fun. Fans of the original won’t find the weird, colorful elements to love, but it’s a good movie, albeit thirty minutes too long. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Taking of Deborah Logan - Good premise; found footage in the vein of Blair Witch Project of a demon possession disguised as Alzheimer’s disease. But, the movie can’t decide if it wants to stick to its foundation of a student documentary or veer into the studio-style editing and affects of theatrical release. Which is unfortunate as the former would have made it stand-out among a pack of mediocre ghost stories, while the later distracts from the setting it seeks to establish. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Teeth - A movie about the myth of vagina dentata could have been absolutely deplorable, but with the bar so low, Teeth does a pretty good job. Jess Weixler is a functional actress, not necessarily stand-out, but certainly far better than the role requires. Trying to tightrope walk between comedy and horror is never a task a creator should set out upon without a clear vision. Unfortunately, this one seems a bit blurry. One its release, Boston Globe said the movie “runs on a kind of angry distrust toward boys.” Not bad advice. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Terrifier - Do you want to see a naked woman hung upside down and sawed from gash to forehead? Then this is the movie for you. That’s it. There’s not much else here. Gino Cafarelli is good as the pizza guy. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. The clown is scary, though.

The Terror - A classic haunted throwback from Roger Corman, but without the nudity and gore his later work is infamous for. A young Jack Nicholson proves he was always kind of a prick. Boris Karloff does his best. The plot is pretty boring, but it’s a decent movie that you might stumble upon on a lazy afternoon on cable TV. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre - Tobe Hooper’s 1974 persuasive argument for vegetarianism is just as terrifying today as it was when it was released. Just as Halloween launched a thousand imitators, the hues and low angles in this film set the standard for horror for years and, unfortunately, laid the groundwork for more exploitative movies offered referred to as “torture porn.” Though gory, The Texas Chainsaw Massacre’s sense of weird dread is established well before the chainsaw rips, and though many have tried to follow in its footsteps, none have captured the lighting that adds to the overall queasy moments of the film. There’s a kind of simplistic beauty to such unexplained brutality, and perhaps because it was first, all others since haven’t seemed as artistically valuable. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. So, umm, what do you think happened to the Black Maria truck driver?

The Texas Chainsaw Massacre (2003) - The only decent carry over from this remake is John Larroquette as the narrator. Over-washed tones, over-the-top gore and unsympathetic characters make this film more than unnecessary, placing among the worst horror remakes of all time. Robert Ebert gave it one of his rare 0 stars, reserved for works he found genuinely appalling such as I Spit On Your Grave, The Human Centipede 2, and most infamously John Waters’s Pink Flamingos. 1 out of 5 pumpkins.

They Live - “I have come here to chew bubblegum and kick ass… And I'm all out of bubblegum." 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Thing - Trying to give this film an honest review is almost impossible. Cast out on its release for being too bizarre and gory, Carpenter’s nihilist tale has since come to be seen as a masterpiece for its special effects, bleak tone, and lasting impact on other creators. Is it perfect? No, but it’s damn close. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. MacReady’s assimilated. Deal with it.

Train to Busan - A bit too predictable, but a solid, well-paced zombie action flick that’s smarter than most American blockbusters from Korean director Yeon Sang-ho, who is better known for his semi-autobiographical animated features. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

Tucker & Dale vs. Evil - I really didn't expect much out of this movie, but it's actually really, really funny and a really gory spoof. Not quite on the scale of The Cabin in the Woods, but still pretty damn great. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. If you don't think people getting hacked up by a chainsaw in certain contexts can be funny, then this probably ain't your bag.

Twins of Evil - An enjoyable, somewhat smutty vampire movie from the famous British studio Hammer Films, staring Peter Cushing and Playboy Playmates the Collinson twins. Directed by John Hough, who also directed The Legend of Hell House, the film doesn’t break any new ground and is loaded with over-acting, but it’s well-paced, wonderfully set, and generally fun to watch, where the Puritan witchfinders are just as horrible as the vampires. Not as great as Black Sunday, but still worth viewing. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Let Joachim speak, you racists.

Under the Skin - Mesmerizing and haunting. The less you know going into this film the better. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. Quite possibly Scarlett Johansson’s best work.

Under the Silver Lake - Technically a “comedic neo-noir,” whatever the fuck that means; in any case David Robert Mitchell (It Follows) tries to do too much over too long of a run time. Andrew Garfield gives a decent performance, especially considering he’s in almost every frame of the film. But the edge-of-subtly that made It Follows so modern and terrifying is replaced by a silk, wandering, and heavy-handed stroll through the powerful Los Angeles entertainment Illuminati. Certainly there’s material there, but instead of being a radical stab at the very real institutions of pop-culture that treat young women as nothing more than disposable meat, we drift in and out of a young man’s lust that revels in objectification without the sleazy charm of exploitation flicks or the critical eye of outright satire. Even the eerily presence of the Owl Woman can’t level-up what is an exercise in arrested development for hipsters. 2 out of 5 pumpkins. Despite this negative review, Mitchell still has plenty of potential to make another great film. Whether he deserves that chance is different question.

Us - Jordan Peele’s second film is even better than his great debut. Us isn’t perfect, but hints at what Peele could create in the future. Unnecessary explanation and slightly oddly timed humor are present, like in Get Out, but more restrained. Peele’s talent for making modern horror accessible to the widest audience is laudable. Still, I can’t wait to see what he makes two or three films down the road. I suspect more than one could come close to equaling that of Kubrik’s The Shinning. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. 

Vampire’s Kiss - Is it a horror? Is it a comedy? Is it a parody? Drama? This movie truly defies genre due to the inexplicable acting choices made by Nicholas Cage. His odd affectation doesn’t change from sentence to sentence, but word to word. It’s like he’s trying to play three different characters across three different acts all at once. Is it good? Not really. But, I mean, see it. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Vampyros Lesbos - After vigorous encouragement from my academic colleagues, I decided to watch this 1971 Spanish-German film for, umm, science. Shot in Turkey and staring the tragic Soledad Miranda, Jesús Franco’s softcore horror jumps right into full-frontal nudity and attempts a sort of story involving Count Dracula that moves forward through uninteresting monologues and shaky camera work. It’s not awful, but there’s no reason to watch it. If it was playing in the background at a dive bar, it might have a tinge of charm. Other than some close moments of near-unapologetic queer sex, despite being created almost entirely for the male gaze, it’s just another in the pile of European exploitation. Still, it’s fun to daydream about Istanbul being ruled by a dark-haired demonic lesbian; beats the hell out of what we have in our reality. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. Fun fact: The soundtrack found renewed fame in 1990′s Britain, causing it to finally find distribution into America.

The Vault - A serviceable, but ultimately boring horror take on a bank heist that tries to hard to end with a twist. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

V/H/S - Every review I've seen for this movie is generally positive, but that only reaffirms my belief that most people are easily pleased by unintelligent, unoriginal bullshit. A Blair Witch-style story-within-a-story collection of shorts, I couldn't get past the first borderline date-rape, little-girl, sexually confused, monster story. Fuck this trope. Fuck this movie. The much delayed glorification of grisly murder of the offending male villains is hardly radical and only further supports the stereotypes of patriarchy much as it attempts to subvert a worn genre. 0 out of 5 pumpkins. I hate the world.

Videodrome - Cronenberg’s best film. James Woods’s best role; it’s a shame that he’s total piece of shit in real life. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Long live the new flesh.

The Wailing - Despite clocking in at over two and half hours, this part zombie/part demon horror movie from Korean director Na Hong-jin isn’t a slow burn, but rather an intriguing maze of twists and turns as the main character (and audience) struggles to find the truth about a mysterious, murderous diseases sweeping through a small village. Actor Do-won Kwak gives an especially captivating performance. Though the ending packs a powerful punch, the overlapping lies and half-truths told over the course of the film makes it a bit difficult to suss out the evil roots. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

We Are Still Here - What sets out as a slowly paced ghost story turns into something of a gore-fest towards the ends, which doesn’t make it bad so much out of place. 3 out fo 5 pumpkins. Could’ve been a contender.

We Are What We Are - A remake of Jorge Michel Grau’s 2010 film, the American version takes its time getting to the horror before going a step too far at the end. Still, the ever-present knowledge that you’re watching a cannibal film makes some of predictable moments all-the-more horrifying. 3 out of 5 pumpkins.

Wes Craven’s New Nightmare - The novel charm of Craven’s meta Freddy saga has worn with age. Heather Langernkamp is passable, but not enough to carry the film and Robert Englund out of makeup shatters the pure evil illusion of his character. Interesting to see some of the ideas that would later synthesize in Scream, but otherwise kind of a bore. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

The Witch: A New-England Folktale - A deeply unsettling period-piece that reflects on American religion and its violent fear of feminine power. 5 out of 5 pumpkins. Trust no goat.

The Witches - Roald Dahl’s story is ultimately crushed by a changed ending, however, Nicolas Roeg‘s adaptation up to that point is a fun, creepy movie people of any age can enjoy. 4 out of 5 pumpkins. It’s really a shame the original ending was changed.

Wolfcop - When a movie’s title promises so much, maybe it’s not fair to judge. But there’s so much campy potential in a werewolf cop picture that it’s kind of a bummer to see it executed at level that makes you wonder if it wasn’t made by high school kids whose favorite movie is Super Troopers. 1 out of 5 pumpkins. God, the movie’s horrible.

The World’s End - The final chapter in the Three Flavours Cornetto and the best, showcasing a wealth of talent at the top of their game. 4 out of 5 pumpkins.

XX - Admittedly, I don’t care much for the recent spring of short horror anthologies. Rarely do they have enough time to build the necessary suspense horror movies require. Still, two of the shorts are OK, one is pretty good, and one is bad. So, not a total loss. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

You’re Next - Home-invasion horror as never been my cup of hippie tea as it feeds into the 2nd Amendment hero fantasy of American males. That said, this dark-comedy take on it isn't bad. Some things don’t really add up. For example: Are you telling me that the deep woods home of a former defense corporation employee doesn’t have a single gun stashed somewhere? Bullshit. Anyway, who doesn’t want to see a rich family’s bickering dinner interrupted by a gang of psycho killers? 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Bonus rating: 6 out of 10 would fuck in front of their dead mother. (Sorry, mom.)

Zombeavers - No one would say this is a good movie, but it also doesn’t take itself too seriously. Not at funny as Tucker & Dale vs. Evil, and certainly more formulaic, this one’s only worth watching if you’re bored. 2 out of 5 pumpkins.

Zombi 2 - Lucio Fulci’s unofficial sequel to Dawn of the Dead is one of his best films. But even though Fulci crafted some of the best zombies to ever appear on screen—filmed in the bright, Caribbean sun, the film suffers, as most of his do, from some unnecessary, borderline confusing plot points and poor dubbing. Still, well worth watching on a lazy day, especially for the final act, when the protaganists fight off a zombie hoard inside a burning church. 3 out of 5 pumpkins. Bonus: topless scuba diving zombie shark fight, which is also my new DJ name.

[95liners3rdmember]

Worth It

Chapter Three: Monday Morning

Word Count: 4052

Chapter Two: Saying Thank You

Today’s been a day already and I haven’t even made it into work yet…

I woke up to my grandmother calling bright and early at 5 am. My heart and soul needed to talk to her as she calmed me of my nerves about today. She reassured me that all of my hard work wasn’t going to go to waste. I may have shed a few tears after ending our call but I was wide awake and energized.

Then as I was getting ready to leave my apartment, my sisters call me as they left school. Nat and Nikole were dropping hints about how they wanted to come and visit me while they were on break. Which isn’t a bad idea but I’ll have to figure out a good time so they aren’t just sitting around my apartment. But there’s no way I can take a week off just a month after starting. It will most likely be during the holidays so I can spend a little time with them.

But I think the thing that threw me off the most was Namjoon waiting for me in the lobby with a hot coffee in hand. He had a cocky smile on his lips as he took in my wardrobe choice. Thankfully yesterday I went by the company to drop off a bag full of spare clothes because there’s no way I can dance in my current outfit. As he handed me my cup, the other’s pass us sluggishly to the waiting vans.

“Can I ride in with you?” Namjoon gave me his signature smile and the next thing I know we are in my car sitting in morning traffic.

My fingers tap anxiously against the steering wheel, I really can’t be late on my first day. Namjoon chuckles before turning down the radio.

“Calm down, you have almost 45 minutes before you’re supposed to be in the office. Worst case just call in and tell them that we’re stuck in traffic.”

He’s surprisingly calm and I feel somewhat better but I just want to get into the office already. Yesterday I was supposed to relax and take an off day but I was too full of energy and I was already given approval to come in, so I went and organized my office. I also went through a few run throughs of each song that way I wasn’t rusty before teaching the group. The last thing I wanted was to look unprofessional in front of them.

“Looks like the traffic is letting up here, after that we should have no problem getting there.”

Namjoon scrolls through the map on his phone and my body relaxes in the seat as we pass by the backed up exit. Just as he said, the road clears out and we’re at the company sooner than I thought. Smiling at him, I pull in and park. My stomach feels like it’s doing back flips and spins as I look at the large building. This is it. It’s finally my first official day as a BigHit employee.

“I guess I’ll see you in an hour. Hoseok has the disk with the detailed moves on it.”

“See you then! Have fun.”

We both exited the car, my bag tucked tightly under my arm as I read through a last minute email and sip my coffee. Looks like the schedule changed just a little, scanning our badges we enter the lobby and both go our separate ways.

My heart starts to pound in my chest as I stand in front of the large frosted glass door. Taking in a deep breath, I pull the handle back and I’m greeted by a room full of staff. Bowing politely I take a seat in the vacant chair. There’s a large packet in front of everyone and I can’t help but quirk an eyebrow as I sit and read through it.

It’s going to take me a little longer to get through this, yes I’ve been studying for years but I’m still slow on reading Korean. Reaching into my beg I pull out a small notebook and a pen so I can start making notes.

“Good morning everyone. Today we will be going over the details of the next tour and upcoming award shows. Also, I want everyone to welcome Ms. y/l/n. She will be taking over the dance and choreography department.”

There’s a small, quick round of applause which makes my heart flutter.

“Thank you everyone. I can’t wait to get started!”

As each of the directors goes over their roles and the upcoming events my head starts to spin. There’s so much I need to get done in such a short amount of time. The tour is starting after the new year and the award shows want the group to perform and I need to make a few new opening moves for each. It shouldn’t be too hard but it’s going to require a few all nighters.

Under the table I feel my phone vibrate in my bag, it’s not too loud since all of the stylists are talking about who to partner with and what the concept will be for the tour. I look around and notice that everyone else has their phones on the table so I guess it will be okay for me to have mine. Bending down I fish out my phone and see that it’s the group chat Taehyung added me to.

J-Hope: Jungkookie and V are getting impatient for you to get here.

Kookie: Hurry up Noona! I wanna dance.

Locking my phone, I smile and look back up at the presentation board where tour locations and stage options are being shown. From what it looks like the next tour is going to be amazing.

“Ms. y/l/n would you mind sharing what you’ve made so far?” Nodding, I make my way up to the front with a copy of the disk I made. Passing it over, I feel my palms start to get sweating and my throat feels tight.

“These are the main songs that will be performed and recorded for music videos. I didn’t get to make these with the members so there will have to be some changes made. Also, I’m going to let them decide the style for their solos.”

Around the room other staff nod as their eyes are glued to the screen. Nervously I fiddle with the ring on my finger as the videos come to an end. I let them keep the copy since I have the original saved on my laptop and another copy.

I’ve never been one for giving presentations or public speaking. Dancing has always been my way of expression. So as of right now I want to crawl into a hole and disappear. I can’t gauge everyone’s reactions as the videos end. They probably wish that the old choreographer was still here.

As the videos end I’m waiting for the room to stay completely silent.

But once again I’m proven wrong.

The stylists are all smiling and whispering energetically about how this is going to be one of the best sets ever. Or how well I’ve incorporated their style.

Smiling I walk back to my seat with a little more pep in my step. Today just might turn out to be a better day than I thought.

For the millionth time,it feels like, I tighten the band of my ponytail that sticks through the ball cap. I silently scold myself as I suck in a deep breath as a sigh over takes my body, I shouldn’t have stayed so late at the studio last night touching up the dances. During the meeting I didn’t feel too stiff or sore but now that I rushed to change and get to the practice room on time I feel each and every muscle tense up.

Walking through the doorway of the large practice room I see the boys all goofing around with their previous dances. All laughing and having a good time relaxing. It makes me want to go slightly easier on them but I know that’s not why I was hired. Sucking in another deep breath I clear my throat to make my presence known.

“You guys ready?” I ask loudly as I make my over to them. As I scan over them I feel slightly underdressed and overdressed at the same time. They each have their own style even in the practice room.

“We watched it over a few times and followed along for the most part.” Nodding at Hoseok’s statement, I can see that Jin and Namjoon are a little apprehensive about it. I knew that it would be harder for them, that’s why I’m going to spend more time with them individually throughout the week. I have no doubt that Hoseok will help me as well.

“I’m going to line you up and then go through the first few moves. Sound good?”

Time seems to go by quicker than I thought and before I know it their managers and other staff are carrying in bags full of food for lunch. Some of the boys have dropped onto the ground and are working on catching their breathing. I can’t say I didn’t work them hard, we were able to make it through one full run through before calling it a day. Sure it wasn’t perfect by any means, that’s going to take some time, but at least they are memorizing the choreo.

“Food…” Jin groans out as he makes his way over to the table and throws himself into the rolling chair. It spins slightly which causes him to bump and shake the whole table. Some of the staff check to see if he hurt himself while Jungkook tries not to laugh at his accident.

“You all did great today. I have no doubt that you’ll have this one down quick.” I huff out between breaths. My legs are killing me from doing so many one on one run throughs of parts. I forgot how sore I was after making these routines, I may just have to soak in an ice bath later.

I get a few smiles and a few nods in agreement as they move over to join Jin at the table, but there’s one person missing. Jimin rewinds the video and rewatches from the beginning. He stands in place and tries to go along step by step. I can see a glint in his eyes that I know all too well...snatching my hat off I move over to him with a slight frown.

“Jimin, you need to eat. We can worry about polishing the moves up the rest of the week.” His eyes cut over to me and I can see the annoyance. He doesn’t want me to interrupt his personal time, honestly I’m the same exact way when there’s a new choreo to make or a new routine to learn. But right now he needs to take care of himself.

“I’m fine.” There’s a slight edge to his voice and I don’t want to push him too far. Sighing, I turn my head towards the others who are trying to watch secretly but failing terribly. Namjoon just nods his head in a way that tells me it’s not worth arguing about.

“If you want to work on it tonight we can but right now you really do need to sit down and take a break. You’ll run yourself down if you keep this up everyday.”

That strike a nerve as his body stops moving completely. Whatever determined glint that was in his eyes is completely gone as he turns towards me. I would never take Jimin as the intimidating type, but I can’t help gulping under his gaze.

“I know my body better than you do y/n. I’ve been dancing just as long as you have. And I can learn it on my own.” His tone is completely different than anything I’ve heard so far. And the way he makes it seems like he could learn it faster without me strike my own nerve. He moves past me and mutters something inaudible which makes my annoyance rise. Turning on my heels swiftly I shove my ball cap back on my head and head towards the door, snatching up my bag that’s sitting by the threshold. Not caring that it slams shut behind me.

I retreat to my office and shut the door, softer than the practice room so I don’t draw any more attention to me. Tossing my bag on one of the small chairs, I round the side of my desk and sit down to look through the emails. But for the first time since I arrived in Korea, there's no emails waiting for me. So there’s nothing else for me to do except to look through the packet from this morning about the upcoming tour. I guess I can start there.

But my mind can’t think of anything except for what just happened in the practice room. I thought Jimin and I were getting along well enough but I guess I was wrong. My sister was right about getting close with them. I should’ve rejected all of the offers from everyone except Namjoon since I’ve known him for so long and I already have an established friendship with him. Once again my little sister proved that she’s wiser than I am.

Ugh, I can’t just sit here and mope around I’ve got work to do.

Jumping up, I grab my bag and make my way to an empty practice room. The only way I’m going to clear my mind is if I dance for a little bit and listen to the song over a few times to get some inspiration.

Thankfully I end up at the practice room furthest away from where the members are. Setting up my camera on the tripod and getting a playlist, my phone beeps with a text message alert.

Namjoon: Where did you go?

Ignoring the text, my cap gets tossed to the side and I retie my hair up into a large messy bun. Sucking in a deep breath I close my eyes and roll my head to relax my shoulders, trying to relieve the tightness building in my neck. Slowly opening my eyes I bend down to tighten my shoe laces and once I pop back up I press play on my phone.

The first couple of songs are just warm ups, things I’ve done before. In reality they are a warm up for what’s about to happen. My body moves with each beat as I let everything escape my mind except the music and the choreo. It’s nice to get back to the basics, to reset my mind. If I want to do my best for BigHit and BTS then I need to mentally check out for a few minutes and recollect myself.

When Fire starts playing, my lips quirk up as the beat quickens. My breathing gets heavier as the song goes on, my muscles burn and sweat drips down my forehead. But it ignites a spur of energy I didn’t think I had. Smirking once the song is done, I peel off the sweatshirt I was wearing and go down to just my sports bra and leggings. Normally I try to keep some decency when I’m at work, even when it’s unbearably hot, but since I won’t see anyone else the rest of the day I’m in the clear.

Once the first beat of Fake Love starts playing, I take Taehyung’s place. I’m going to run through this song seven times. Each time I will be taking the different spot of a member. It may be overkill but at this point I don’t care.

My muscles scream at me but I couldn’t be happier. After running the choreo a few times inspiration struck me. I abandoned the dance floor and fell into the floor with my notebook. Scribbling my ideas down, my lungs gasp for breath while sweat drips onto the paper as I sketch out a box like contraption. It may not be ready in time but I could always have this in my back pocket.

A few more ideas are jotted down but I jump in place when I hear the door rattle. Good thing I locked it but it’s useless when the door has a window down the center of it. Moving quickly I tug on my sweatshirt and turn off the camera. Going to the door I suck in deeps breaths to try and calm my racing heart. There’s no one in the hallway, but I have a strange feeling someone was watching. Moving back into the room I pack everything up and check the time, it’s almost 5. I really didn’t get much done but at this point I just want a shower.

The hallways are quiet as I move sluggishly to the safety of my office. Maybe after I shower I can swing by Namjoon’s studio and check out what he’s been working on. But then there’s a chance I’ll run into Jimin and that’s the last thing I want right now. I should just let it go but it seemed like he doubted me. And that the last thing I need on my first day.

Emerging from the female locker room, I feel lighter and my mind is clearer. At least I brought plenty of backup clothes because knowing me I’m going to be staying overnight or really late for the next few weeks. Rolling up the sleeves on my light blue button up I walk back to my office just to drop everything off. Before going to the shower I texted Namjoon and asked me if I could come by his studio, luckily he instantly replied giving me the green light.

Since it’s so late in the day most of the other staff have left the building for the day like normal people. Us workaholics will be here until we physically can’t take anymore. Namjoon is bad about it but he’s told me horror stories about Yoongi staying here for days on end without leaving. The most I’ve ever stayed is about two days before I was dragged back home by Nat.

Knocking on the door of his studio, I wait out in the hall and tap the toe of my shoe on the tile. My stomach feels uneasy, probably since I haven’t had any real food to eat, but also because I’m nervous to run into Jimin.

A loud click snaps me from my thoughts as the door opens just enough so I can grab the handle and let myself in. Namjoon’s hunched up at his desk editing away, the monitor above him showing me every small movement and adjustment he does. Watching him in his element is fascinating.

“You sure left in a hurry after practice.”

“Well hello to you to too Namjoon.” Rolling my eyes I drop down into the vacant chair next to him. My forehead falls to the desktop and my hair fans out everywhere creating a curtain to hide from him.

“Y/n, you did an amazing job today. I heard from Bang PD that he really like what you’ve created and can’t wait to see it in person.” That statement makes my stomach twist in knots and flip a dozen times. I haven’t even had the chance to meet him in person yet, everything has been through computer or through an assistant.

“But Jimin...he’s hard on himself and very critical of everything. I warned you about it before you took the job.” Namjoon’s tone isn’t harsh, actually it’s softer than I’d imagine. A deep sigh leaves my lips as I turn my head sideways and remove the curtain of hair to look at him. There’s no use trying to hide my feelings about it considering we’ve known each other for so long.

“I know I took it too personally, but I can’t help it. I spent so much time on all of these dances Joon...I guess...I feel like he doesn’t trust me or have faith in my abilities.” My eyes sting a little as I let out my pent up frustration. Mentally I’m smacking myself for being so emotional. The last time Namjoon saw me like this it wasn’t good...

“BigHit wouldn’t waste their time or resources for anyone that’s not up to their standard. Jimin knows this as well as the rest of us. You just have to let him come to terms and build a relationship with you on his own.” Namjoon stopped moving the mouse and turned his attention away from the screen to look at me. His eyes are soft as he pats my back gently.

“We had a talk with him though. Jimin’s tone was too harsh and we let him know that. After you wouldn’t answer my text we all went looking for you.”

Crap. So they did see me practice.

“How many times did you end up running through it?” There’s a guilt in his voice that I’ve never heard before, a tone that makes my heart tighten and feel heavy.

“Four or five before I stopped to write down some ideas. How much did you all see?” That’s a loaded question but it needs to be answered. Because if they saw me when I was topless then I need to make sure to wear lighter shirts from now on.

“Most of us stayed up until the second time around. Although Hobi and Jimin stayed until you finished.” Namjoon scratches his neck nervously before continuing to work on the song in front of him.

“Fantastic, looks like I can die of embarrassment now. Let my family know I love them.” Being dramatic I gently tap my forehead against the desk top before letting out a groan of defeat.

“Drama queen. It’s not bad though. I think it showed Jimin that you take everything you do seriously and that you aren’t playing around.”

Neither one of us talks for a few minutes, the only sound in the room is the clicking of his mouse and blips of music. My eyes feel heavy as my muscles start to relax after being abused for so long. Then my stomach growls and the room goes completely silent. Crap.

“I’m guessing you didn’t eat since you left practice. Go home and rest. Since you were hidden all day I’m going to assume you didn’t see the schedule for tomorrow.” Looking at him I wait for him to continue filling me in on everything I missed.

“We have a photoshoot tomorrow so you have a free day to work on ideas and concepts.”

My body reacts by sitting straight up and looking at Namjoon with wide eyes. A wide smile breaks out across my lips. So I can spend an entire day uninterrupted working. Perfect. Might as well get an early start.

“I’ll leave you be Namjoon. See you Wednesday I guess, be ready to dance your feet off.” Giggling I wave goodbye and run out of his studio with my new burst of energy. There’s a spring in my step as I pass by Yoongi and Hoseok’s studios. Both booming with music, but in Hoseok’s I can hear multiple voices talking. They probably are meeting up to talk over the tracks.

Going straight to the breakroom I start to make myself some coffee and pull out my phone to try and order take out. Once I get some food in my system I’ll be set and ready to go. Placing my order and paying, I leave instructions that I will meet them outside once they arrive.

“Thanks for making more. I’m going to need it.” I jumped at the sudden voice and turn to see Yoongi walking in the room with an empty cup. Shuffling to the side with my cup, I get ready to leave the room but his voice stops me again.

“Don’t stay too late y/n. You worked hard today.”

“No promises Yoongi. Have a good night.” I bow slightly as I go to exit the room but before I get out of earshot I hear him mumble something that made me smirk.

“You are just like us.”

[crisisengine]

review: TEENS OF STYLE

Teens of Style was Will Toledo (aka Car Seat Headrest)’s 2015 major label debut. However, rather than being a paradigm shift into new, polished studio-recorded material (which would come on the next record, Teens of Denial), it was instead a laptop-recorded look back at the Will’s lo-fi Bandcamp days, compiling together older songs from different projects (mainly his first non-numbered album My Back is Killing Me Baby and the relentless but captivating breakup record Monomania). Now that Will has a firmly established musical reputation outside of the world of Bandcamp and people are enjoying all his work, both new and old, I thought it would be a good time to explore whether this record holds up in its own right. It is more than just a greatest hits compilation? (short answer: ABSOLUTELY YES!)

I like how the refrain from SUNBURNED SHIRTS closes and opens Car Seat Headrest’s first trilogy of major label albums. It’s cool to see how, on this song and on ‘Twin Fantasy (Those Boys)’, the same words and melodies are used in totally different contexts (though, here, we also get the eargasmic “People here bang on the walls late at night…” part). This one oozes dreamlike, summery vibes. I love the psychedelic sound collage at the start and, from there, it’s a pleasure to watch the song build up into the final rock-out ending. 

The opening riff of THE DRUM is perfectly produced. Whenever it appears, sometimes without warning, I get total chills. The guitar tone cuts through like an ice pick. The verses build on this in a muddier fashion but, by the time the vocals come to a head (“The Drum’s in debt!!) I am absolutely won over. Andrew Katz’s spritely drum fills add a fitting contrast to the breakdown and final verse really does give off a bizarre sense of triumph (“he’s got his flag unfurled or something”). I enjoy how, after the opener has gradually drawn us in, this song feels like a decisive overture, a setting of the scene for the album.

SOMETHING SOON is a brilliantly put-together pop song. The verses’ lyrical vignettes of cabin-fever turn into outright desperation in the chorus. It pinpoints these feelings really accurately. The skittering breaks in the verses release themselves into the crashing choruses and outro.  Each section is bookended by the same repeating electric piano chord. The explosion from this pared down moment into the final burst of energy just seems so right.

Like ‘The Drum,’ NO PASSION also rests on an exquisite moment of production. In the final chorus when Will sings “I” in his high register, it’s like a shot through the heart. The sarcastic image of failure in the verses compliments this so well – a succession of half-formed images that seem to suck away all feeling. The comparative earnestness of “I just needed more money, more time, more love” hits home. Our generation often try to rationalise things through sarcasm when really there is something more deeply lacking in our lives. The line “All my desires are so poorly drawn” also really resonates with me.

TIMES TO DIE adds to this album’s incredibly strong selection of opening moments of tracks. The wandering bassline interlocks with the chug of a delayed guitar followed by a single note. There’s something incredibly satisfying about it, especially when you are aware of the sound bath you are about to enter. The psychedelic vocal and guitar interplay in the verses is a highlight – in the first, they mirror each other but, in the second, the guitar skirts around the vocals, carving out new crevices. Their two melodies collide at the end of said verse, in a really affecting way (“but he just keeps singing this song”). The use of horns and cut-up vocals enlivens the sound palette. It feels like a series of ancient rooms with each section or lyrics (“and when they took him to the temple…”) leading somewhere new. A light seems to shine through as the melodies cascade upwards. The “most of the time” section provides nice segue into the “divine council” part which feels like an explosion, with the “is it harder to speak?” section as its fallout. The intermingling of imagery or religion and the music business (“got to believe in the one above me, got to believe that [Vince]Lombardi [head of Matador records] loves me”) is playful and dreamlike.

PSST TEENAGERS is a fun interlude that adds some more immediate energy into a generally fairly meditative album.

The opening verses of STRANGERS leave you inquisitive as to where the song is heading. All becomes clear when the tension of the exclamatory chorus is released in the lovely, picked instrumental break that follows (again enhanced by some inventive drum rhythms). The second section is the real stunner though, starting off cocoon-like and vulnerable but leading into a volatile crescendo. The line “I won’t last too much longer” and its raw delivery convey a sense of enigmatic fragility that I find very affecting.

The keyboard riff in MAUD GONE swamps the mix in the best way possible. I love its distorted, wet tones. The sax solo at the song’s crescendo provides the perfect counterpoint to it, too. Its muscular, sinewy texture cuts through emphatically in the context of the album’s drenched sound palette. As the notes reach up, the instrument seems to become an incredible, cathartic pressure valve, leeching out a lot of confused unspoken feelings as the notes reach up. The metaphor of “a full moon every night” is enticingly simple but also utterly apt for the feelings it describes.

LOS BARRACHOS has an infectious opening synth lick. As it bubbles under the verses, I’m just waiting for it to return with its full force. The wry but combative tone of the song’s opening (“let’s […] crush the grapes beneath our feet/ like some heartbroken Bacchus”) reflects Will’s desperate attempt to rekindle this relationship, to change his situation, to turn sadness into hedonism. These illusions can’t last, however. The riff does not return. Instead the song melts into a kind of broken, abject despair. “I miss you.” The disintegration of the song’s subtitle to just “Don’t have any hope left” is heart-breaking. It’s the most visceral portrait of a breakdown I’ve ever heard.

BAD ROLE MODELS, OLD IDOLS EXHUMED is my favourite song title ever. The track (the only new song written for Teens of Style) feels like a self-aware reflection on the nature of this album. The images of a figure from the past who once meant a lot but is now insignificant in the life of the narrator seem to tally somewhat with the way in which the album is made up of songs taken from previous projects. Past relationships, and the hurt they have caused, are dismissed and rationalised into triviality and insignificance. The horns and the final refrain make for a strangely celebratory ending, like a forced annulment of regrets (“You probably looked like an idiot in that hat!”) in the face of a resolve to move forward. This forced, performative break with the past, however, seems only to emphasise how the wounds are still very much open, just as the songs here, despite their pre-dating of the album itself, lose none of their emotional potency.

The chorus of OH, STARVING! is deliberately contradictory but also feels very comprehensible. The boredom of a life that seems superficially better as, opposed to a past delineated by clear highs and lows, is a recognisable feeling. Sometimes things being superficially ‘ok’ just makes you painfully aware of how far away you are from the things you really want in life, while impending pressures can obscure this, making any brief moments of solace much sweeter. In the context of the album, this also seems to imply a sense of nostalgia with regard to the events and feelings laid out in these songs. Even though this album deals with confusion, depression and heartbreak, in hindsight, the potency and simplicity of these feelings (given the separation of time between the writing and re-recording of these tracks) could almost seem preferable to the confused present. Yet, by the end of the song, Will seems to finally be able to let go. Saying “goodbye” to all his “secret files” seems almost ritualistic, like he is purging himself of the confusions of the past and moving on. I like this version of the song best because of the moment, at the very end, when the delicate piano chords and doo-wop harmonies are replaced by raw, shredding guitars and a single voice singing “goodbye” so distortedly the word is almost incomprehensible. The raw power of this moment seems to work up a head of steam, like an exorcism of the kinks and bruises of the past, in favour of something.

There isn’t Car Seat Headrest album I’ve heard that I don’t love. However, I think Teens of Style undoubtedly ranks among the best of them. It might just be one of my favourite albums of all time. It does lack the conceptual charge that powers Twin Fantasy, Monomania, Teens of Denial and even, to some extent, How to Leave Town. However, despite their lack of a heavy overarching theme, these songs flow together really well. The album feels cohesive thanks to its spring-reverbed production aesthetic (which reminds me of being indoors on a hot summer day) and the smaller themes that recur throughout (resentment of the past, confusion in the present, getting signed to a major indie label). The tweaks to the lyrics of many of these songs make the creative intent yet more apparent.

I also think this album definitely does not negate the albums from which these songs are taken. I love Monomania and My Back is Killing Me Baby and, if you haven’t listened to them you should definitely do so right now! There are bunch of essential songs on both albums that are not on this one (‘father, flesh in rags,’ ‘Souls,’ ‘happy news for sadness,’ ‘Sleeping with Strangers,’ I could go on…). However, for me, the songs on this album benefit from being recontextualised and, in certain cases, from being rerecorded. It’s great to be able to experience the stronger standalone songs from these previous records in the context of album that lets them breathe a little more, outside of context. 

The most obvious example is ‘Los Barrachos’ which I think works amazingly well as the climactic track for this album. On Monomania, placed somewhere in the middle, it felt more like a just another rung in the downward spiral of heartbreak. On Teens of Style, it has room to breathe and can finally reach its full potential. Similarly, ‘Maud Gone’ benefits hugely from its re-recording. The crisp yet bedraggled sound palette of the new version feels much more fitting than the original and, in the context of a more emotionally diverse album, the catharsis it brings is more powerful (especially coming after ‘Strangers’).

Teens of Style might be made up moments from the past, but it more than proves its worth as a cohesive album that is great in its own right.

[preface2adreamplay]

Under Your Spell (Chapter 29) - South of Her Shoulder

Summary: A Jared Padalecki/ OFC/ Oscar Isaac fiction.

Stef spends a week in NY with a trip down memory lane.

Married Jared! Single Oscar!

Chapter warnings: Angst, fluff, swearing.

Chapter WC: 3,794

Valentines and beyond passed in a blur of wallowing in self pity and a great amount of singing in her ‘home studio’ (the mic set up in the upstairs hallway).

Stef had finished the lyrics and polished off the sound she wanted for almost all of the songs for the new album and she was pretty damn proud of herself. 

March came in and she was ready to get back out into the world, or at least back on a plane to New York. 

Nik and the guys had booked studio time so they were all set to get shit done. They had taken a couple of years break, each of them doing their own thing for a while and honestly, Stef missed them. But, she only realised how much when she walked into their old practice space. 

It’s not like she had abandoned them, but moving to a different country made it a little harder to record and write together as a band, even with the internet. 

Jimmy, the drummer, had done them a solid and completely repainted, put in new carpets and made sure all spiders had been sent on their way.

It felt like a new beginning. 

Jimmy was excitedly tapping on the snare while Stef set up her mic, a magazine article had once described him as ‘the cute one with the floppy hair,’ so that’s what he was referred to by the rest of the band, either cutesy or Flopsy. 

Flopsy was eager to get going. 

So Stef sang her heart out. She had a lot to get off her chest.

***

The day before Oscar’s birthday, Stef was searching through a second hand shop for a gift. There was a framed painting she knew he would love and she had run out of ideas of what to get the man who had everything.

Oscar was out of town but flying back home for his birthday weekend, Stef had planned on wrapping the gift and leaving it in the kitchen for him to find when he came back. 

She had been recording songs for the past four days and though she didn’t want a break, she needed to take one. So here she was, covered in dust, searching through the shelves for the painting. The Kurt Cobain lookalike store owner had waved his hand in this general direction when she asked if it had been sold from the window or if he had just moved it.

Her phone beeped, pulling it from her purse she glanced down at the notification, not sure if she should open it now or leave it til later to read it.

Oh hell, she told herself, just open it.

‘I see you’re recording again, can’t wait to hear it. I hope you’re good.’

No pictures, no gifs, no kisses. Stef took a deep breath, thumb hovering over the tiny letters. It was the first time she had heard from him since that morning he had left. A whole month. 

Fuck it.

‘We are. It’s sounding good, I know you’ll like it.’

She wanted to ask if he was ok but didn’t want to open a dialogue. Imagining a scenario where he would reply and say he missed her and she would weep and declare she missed him too and would go running into his arms. It was a bad idea and she truly didn’t want it to happen. 

Nik had always handled the social media for the band. He had been posting all sorts of shit on every platform for the last couple of days about them being in the studio.

Shoving the phone back into her purse, she searched harder for the painting, moving the canvasses aside noisily while Kurt watched her from behind his desk. 

***

Oscar got home right after Stef had gotten into bed in the spare room. Throwing back the blankets, she slipped out into the hall. He was yawning and rubbing his face as she peeked through the doorway.

‘Hi.’ She whispered.

‘Still up?’ He raised an eyebrow at her.

‘Only just. Almost fell asleep.’

‘Sorry, go back to bed.’ He smiled, she could see he was so tired he could barely stand.

With a slight shake of her head, Stef reached over and helped him out of his jacket, hanging it in the hallway next to her own. 

He ran a hand through his curls, dyed black again for the movie he was working on.

‘Do you want tea?’ Stef was still whispering.

Oscar nodded following her into the kitchen. ‘Hey what’s this?’ He pointed to the neatly wrapped, perfectly rectangular gift on the kitchen island. 

‘Oh, Happy Birthday!’ Stef chirped, checking the clock. It was 2am.

‘It’s not my birthday til I go asleep and wake up.’ Oscar eyed the present, wondering if he was allowed to open it.

‘Then ignore the present til you wake up! It’s only fair.’ Stef poured the boiling water over the dried chamomile flowers, smirking when she heard the rip of the paper behind her. He could never wait. 

‘Wow, Effie this is amazing. I love it. Thank you,’ 

‘You’re welcome,’ placing the steaming cup in front of him she gave him a kiss on his stubbled cheek. 

Oscar put the painting onto the counter top and pulled her into a tight hug. ‘You get the best gifts.’

‘I knew you’d like it. I had to fight some dust bunnies to get it. Worth it though.’

I think I’ll hang that in the bedroom, it’ll look cool there, right?’ He turned his tired eyes to her, she felt herself perk up a little, despite the aching tiredness she felt in her bones.

’Show me in the morning?’ Stef gave him another kiss on the cheek, making for the spare bedroom. 

‘You could help me hang it,’ Oscar replied, watching her walk away.

‘If that’s your attempt at a euphemism, it sucked, but I’ll put that down to you being so tired.’

‘Night Effie.’ He called, as she closed the door behind her.

Next morning she awoke to a tap, tap, tap.

It was 8am, he probably didn’t get much sleep. She made her way to the bathroom. A hot shower was first on the agenda, then maybe yoga. But, she had to be in the studio for a few hours later on, she figured she would take some quality time with the birthday boy afterwards.

‘Hey, check it out.’ Oscar called out. Stef was towel drying her hair when she stepped into the bright and very airy bedroom.

‘Fucking hell, Oscar. Close at least one window?’ Stef felt her nipples stiffen from the cold. Why oh why didn’t she bring the padded sports bra, this lacey number was sexy but not functional. 

If Oscar noticed, he didn’t let on. He was kneeling on his bed, arms out presenting the painting that now hung on the left side of the room. 

Stef tilted her head to the side, hmming loudly. 

‘You don’t like it?’

‘No, I think it looks good I just can’t think straight in this freezing cold room, what is wrong with you!’

‘Air conditioner is a bit broken, I’ll fix it.’ With hammer in hand, he manoeuvred himself off the bed, throwing his free arm around her shoulders. ‘Perfect,’ he grinned, looking at the painting and back to her. 

‘Put a bra on Stef!’ He furrowed his brow and shook his head. 

‘What?’ Stef stammered. ‘Wear some boxers!’ She countered, ‘I can see the outline of your junk in those sweats!’ 

‘It’s my birthday, I can wear what I want.’ He started fiddling with the air conditioning unit. She could hear him cursing before yelling that it was fixed while she put on her boots. Realising she hadn’t checked her phone all morning, she looked around for it.

There were a few messages. A couple from Darius and one from Clare sharing an update on what Brendan was doing while ‘mommy was away making some cash.’ Two were from Jared. 

‘I’ve liked everything you’ve done so far.’

‘Out of interest, are you keeping the bit we recorded?’

Stef sighed, that song had been way to personal for her to put onto the album she was recording with the band. 

‘I’m keeping it for a future release, it’s far too nice a song for this album we are doing now. I hope you don’t mind?’

Jared shot back a message straight away.

‘Naw I don’t mind. I look forward to hearing it whenever you’re ready for the world to hear it.’

Stef plugged her phone in to let it charge. Leaving Jared on read. She was sure he wouldn’t mind, it was easier than a conversation right now, she could always reply later.

Arriving at the studio a little early due to Oscar offering to drive her there, he took a few minutes to catch up with the guys. 

‘Want to hear one of the new songs?’ Flopsy was bouncing on his feet, always so excited.

‘Of course I do!’ Oscar spun on his feet, fixing Stef with a glare. She hadn’t let him hear anything yet. Scrunching up her face, she nodded at Flopsy. Letting people hear her music wasn’t the issue, it was when someone listened to it that she knew so well.

Oscar knew her inside out, would he know who the songs were written about? She watched his face while he listened, grinning from ear to ear when the song finished. ‘I think that is some of the best I’ve heard by you guys. So fucking good.’ He clapped Flopsy on the back and looked to Stef. ‘Your voice is...’

‘Haunting,’ Nik offered.

Oscar nodded, ‘haunting. You’re telling us something here, Effie. I can’t wait to hear the rest of it.’ 

For the rest of the session, Oscar sat on the studio sofa while Stef recorded her vocals. Sipping between takes on her favourite tea, Oscar would give her the thumbs up each time she nodded that she was happy. 

There was just the guitar to lay down before she could sign off and go home. 

‘You happy?’ Oscar looked over at Stef in the car on the way back to his house. 

‘Are YOU? You just spent your entire birthday in the studio.’

‘I’m so happy, it’s been years since we did that.’

‘It’s been years. I thought it was fun.’ Stef sank lower into the seat, wrapping her arms around herself. 

‘The songs are something else. Whatever your muse was, try hold on to it.’

Oscar slowed at a stop sign and grinned. ‘Fancy a trip down memory lane?’

Stef narrowed her eyes, ‘how far down memory lane are you talking?’

Nodding his head down a street to the left, he waggled his eyebrows.

There was no one else on the road, so he did an illegal turn. Fuck it.

He pulled up outside a tall building that was ready to fall down, the condemned sign hung on one chain on the gate. 

‘I’m not fucking surprised it’s condemned, it was falling down when we lived there.’ Stef shuddered looking up at the smashed windows.

It was the first place she and Oscar had lived in after they had Darius. 

‘Yeah, I’m glad we got outta there.’ Rolling up his window as he drove away. ‘Probably the worst place I’ve ever lived.’ 

Stef nodded in agreement, even though she had lived in some crummy places in her lifetime.

‘Where to next?’ 

‘Oh so you wanna go see some shit?’

‘Well, now you started this trip down memory lane, let’s continue!’

Oscar laughed, driving toward their old high school, slowing as he came up to the parking lot. The gate was chained and padlocked. 

‘Don’t even think about jumping that gate.’ Stef warned.

‘Not as young as I used to be.’ Oscar was shifting around looking at the building beyond, ‘if you move your head here, you can see the window of the music classroom. Here look,’ Oscar grabbed for Stef’s arm and pulled her toward him, she stood in front of him, pressed against the gate, nodding while she remembered meeting there for the first time over twenty years ago. 

‘You ever get pissed that we didn’t finish school?’ Oscars breath tickled the back of her neck. Giggling, she ducked away from him. ‘Nah. I have a good life. No regrets, right?’

Oscar didn’t answer. He was still looking around the grounds, reminiscing. 

‘How about you?’ 

‘Sometimes. But I got a good life. I’m not so sad about it.’ Shrugging, he dug his hands into his pockets and made his way back to the car, limping slightly.

‘Your foot still hurting?’ Stef asked, seeing him grin as he got into the car. He shook his head. ‘Nah, I just wanted your sympathy.’ He revved the engine at her as she scrambled to get back into the car. 

‘Don’t leave me out here, it’s scary.’

‘Still afraid of the dark?’

‘Too many scary movies watched that had schools in them, it can’t be helped.’

‘Fancy some food?’

‘Oscar, it’s nearly midnight.’ 

‘My birthday doesn’t end til I go asleep!’ He declared. Stef nodded eagerly, she hadn’t eaten anything but a sandwich at lunch, her stomach had been grumbling. 

***

Tucking her feet under a pillow on the sofa, a beer was passed under her nose. Her stomach was full of good food and she felt sleepy. 

She raised the bottle to his and clinked, toasting to his health and happiness and many more birthdays.

Oscar dropped down heavily next to her, throwing his arm across the back of the chair. 

‘I’m old and tired.’ 

‘Me too,’ Stef tried to hide a yawn.

‘Tell me Effie. Who ended it?’

‘Oh, uhm,’ Stef fiddled with the label on the bottle. ‘I did.’ 

Oscar nodded. ‘I thought you might.’

Stef closed her eyes, laying her head back against his arm. ‘I think everyone knew it had to end.’

‘Are you ok about it?’

Stef sighed loudly, ‘actually, yes. I’m happier now that it’s done.’

She didn’t need to see Oscar to know he was making a face of disbelief. 

‘I am. Long term, I wanted something he couldn’t offer.’

‘Oh-ho, Effie knows what she wants. There’s a surprise.’ He teased.

Stef poked her finger into his ribs, enjoying his reaction. Grabbing at her hand, he held onto it for a moment before letting it fall into her lap. 

‘I’m happy you’re happy.’ He said simply.

‘Thank you, Oscar.’

He nodded and sat quietly for a moment.

‘I got something for you,’ he announced.

‘What? You got me something? But, it’s your birthday.’

He was pulling out his phone, scrolling and fiddling with the volume. 

‘It’s because it’s my birthday that the guys put this together for me. Ready?’

Stef shrugged, smiling at him, wondering what he was up to.

The familiar guitar chords started up, it was a song they had recorded earlier in the week, it was still a little raw, hearing it. Her vocals started in but it wasn’t until the second verse she heard it, the unmistakable sound of Oscar singing behind her own voice. ‘When did you do that?’

‘I was sent the early version and recorded it before you came down to the studio.’

‘You cheeky bastard.’ Stef laughed. ‘I love it, Oscar. Are we using it?’ She was wide eyed, excited. They had never done a duet. The thought had never even occurred to her.

‘If you want. The guys are cool with it.’

She was nodding again, listening to the song. It was perfect. 

‘So it’s ok? You’re happy with it?’ His brown eyes were eagerly searching for the yes he hoped for.

‘Hell yes it’s ok, I’m more than happy Oscar. Well done you for sneaking that by me.’ 

Stef paused, she had leaned in to kiss his cheek. He was looking at her mouth in that way he did, his head tilted to the side.

‘Unless, you wrote it about someone and you don’t want to share the song?’ His soft voice was tender in the absence of music as the song finished, the short space between them closing. 

‘I didn’t write it about him,’ Stef swallowed, shutting her eyes. 

His lips found the side of her mouth, placing a gentle kiss. Stef didn’t pull away, he could see her mouth was open, her eyebrows raised like she was waiting for the kiss.

The kiss that would begin a long night of laying awake alone and heartbroken or the kiss that would bring her back to him, finally. Heart fluttering he leaned in again. It had been so long since she kissed him like this, lips fitting together as they had done so many times before, yet this kiss was new. 

Stef put the beer down on the coffee table, rattling the glass top. ’Sorry,’ she stopped the giggle as it came to the surface. 

Her cheeks were flushed. She was bundled up in her thick hoodie, oversized and too damn heavy for the heat in the room.

Both of them looked at anything but each other, both wanting to break the silence but too sure they would say something stupid.

Stef felt like a teenager again, with Oscar sitting next to her making out and being caught by a sibling who always dashed out to find a parent or yelled about it to everyone in the house.

Oscar wiped his brow with the back of his hand. ‘Fuck, that was...’

‘Nice.’ Stef finished, blushing at him.

’It was nice,’ he agreed, ‘and I wanna do it again.’

‘Ok,’ Stef leaned in to him, his hands running along her neck, cupping her face. 

They smiled into the kisses, tongues brushing, breathing ragged.

Stef had bunched his shirt into her fingers, holding onto him. Eventually the grip got so tight he had to pull away from the kiss to ease her fingers away. ‘Hey, I’m not going anywhere, you can let go.’

It had been a while since he was this close her. He could see the smattering of freckles over her nose and the scar on her forehead from when she ran straight into a fence when she hurtled down a hill when she was 15.

‘Sorry,’ she murmured. ‘I just want to...touch you,’ she admitted, biting her lip.

He nodded, taking her mouth again, his thumbs on either side of her face. 

Her lips were stinging when they came up for air. ‘Your stubble is killing me.’ Stef laughed, touching the tender skin around her mouth with her fingertips.

‘I’ll shave tomorrow,’ Oscar offered before seeing Stef vigorously shaking her head. 

‘What?’ He was grinning now, his eyes lighting up. 

‘Don’t shave, I like the scruff.’ She ran a hand across his cheek. ‘I love the scruff.’

‘Hey, I think we should talk about this.’ Oscar took her hand, kissing her palm and letting it rest against his leg.

‘Oh.’ Stef shifted, ‘you don’t want to...’

‘No, I do. Sorry, I wasn’t even sure if you felt the same as I did about this. I’m not...reading this wrong?’

‘No, Oscar. You’re not making me kiss you. I want to. I’ve wanted you for such a long time.’ 

The confession was enough, he wanted to grab her and kiss her and yell out of the windows that she finally felt the same.

‘Well, thank fuck for that. But...’

‘But?’ Stef deflated a little.

‘But I think, we should slow it down a little. I don’t want to jump in where we left off.’

Stef was nodding, her gaze never leaving his. ‘And I don’t mean from that night after Darius’s party, I mean if we do this, I want to take you out first.’

‘You want to date me!?’ Stef grabbed the beer, throwing back half the bottle on realising how thirsty she was after the make out session.

‘Yeah, I do. I think we should get to know each other as we are now. As adults, not as kids struggling to hold everything together.’

‘Ok,’ Stef wanted to pinch herself, surely she was dreaming. ‘So the Oscar sitting next to me right now, wants to bring me on a date? And after the date?’

‘Maybe another one?’ 

‘Maybe?’ She was trying to tease some assurances from him. 

‘Definitely another, then another.’ 

‘Sounds…quaint.’ 

Oscar rolled his eyes, smiling. Their hands were entwined, neither remembered that happening, but it was all happening.

‘How long have you wanted to date me?’ Stef’s tiredness had ebbed away, she felt like she was flooded with electricity, jolts were keeping her upright and twitchy. 

‘A long time, but honestly, every time I wanted to speak up I knew it wasn’t the right time. You never wanted to entertain any man that wanted into your life. I’d be intensely in love with you every we saw each other and I’d have to...’

‘Pull back and not talk to me for a while?’

‘Yeah...’ Oscar winced. 

‘I thought it was coz I was turning you off.’

’No, the opposite. It’d break my heart every time you acted so normal around me. We were friends and that’s the way it was staying. It seemed.’

Stef felt a stab of guilt. ‘I’ve always wanted you. I was just too proud to let you back in.’ 

‘God, did I waste too much time we could have been together?’ Tears were threatening. Not again, she scolded herself. 

’No time like the present!’ He threw his hands into the air. ‘Forget about it all, Effie. Let me take you out.’

Gathering herself, Stef thought to fix her hair. She hadn’t checked a mirror in a long time. What if she looked like the wreck of the Hesperus??

Seeing Oscar’s hopeful eyes looking back her, it seemed he didn’t care a jot. 

‘Yes, please take me on a date.’ She gushed.

***

Stef was under the blankets in the spare room, tossing every few minutes. It would be reckless to go seek comfort in Oscar’s bed. They had agreed to take things slow, go on a few dates, get to know each other and see where it went.

Fuck it, she thought. It’s not as if they had just met. If he didn’t want her in there with him, he would send her away.

She tip toed down the hall, the icy air hit her legs when she opened his door. The soft knock had woken him, she stood shifting from one foot to the other before he lifted his arm and the blankets with it, inviting her in next to him.

Slipping in next to him, he threw his arm over her and sighed contentedly. She bit her lip to conceal a smile she couldn’t seem to get rid of.

[forever-rogue]

Supercut - Part I

Summary: Roger didn’t know how good he had it when Y/N was his. But when Y/N became Deacy’s, he realized he had messed up.

A/N: Still me, still ya girl, back with some more stuff people didn’t ask for. So, yes, this is a bit sad, but also fluff, so I hope you enjoy! Also, you know, please don’t kill me? Part 1 of ??? PS: Deacy deserves love too! Taglists and Requests are open! xx

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Reader (former) and John Deacon x Reader

Word Count: 2k

Warning: angst,

Inspired by Queen’s You’re My Best Friend and Lorde’s Supercut, both of which I recommend you listen to :)

MASTERLIST HERE

“Y/N! I’m so glad you’re here,” Deacy’s face lit up a the sight of her, as she arrived at the studio on a rainy afternoon. She smiled at him, giving him a small wave, taking off her rain slicker and tossing it over a chair, wiping a few raindrops off her cheeks. It had come pouring down just as she arrived.

“Hi love,” she beamed at him as he came over and took her bag and put it away safely for her. He paused, studying her face for a moment, making sure to remember every little detail. She blushed under his intense stare, feeling shy all of a sudden. He gently tucked a few strands of her damp hair behind her ear, “thank you. I must look a sight! It started pouring out of nowhere.”

“You still look beautiful, lovely as always,” he promised her as he gently kissed her cheek, causing her blush a bright crimson. They were both such shy, delicate things, but the two of them complimented each other perfectly. Usually the idea that opposite attracts was true, but in their case, their personalities worked well together; they were similar but still quite different enough. A match made in heaven some said.

“Thanks Deacy,” she said softly, “you’re not so bad yourself you know. Now, what’s the big rush, then? You made it sound like an emergency! I rushed right over from work!"

“I have a big surprise for you,” he said with a bashful smile as he took her hand and pulled her closer to the sound booth where he had been diligently working on polishing some of his bass lines. Her eyes light up at his words, he really was the sweetest, “I do hope you’ll like it."

“I’d love anything from you, Deacy, you know that,” she said, sitting down in a stool next to him. He got comfortable and she snuggled up to him, resting her head on his shoulder. He bit his lip, eager and nervous to his show her what she had been working on for weeks.

When he had first gotten the idea, he almost ignored it, believing that the others would laugh at him, or think it was a colossal waste of time. But he decided to run with the idea, quickly penning the song he had bounced around in his head for weeks. But the reaction to his song had been tremendous, and he knew it was time to finally share it with the one it was dedicated to.

“Okay...but don’t laugh, alright? I wrote a song, but we all worked on it, obviously,” he started to stammer a bit as he handed her a set of headphones. She slipped them as he did the same, his heartbeat increasing rapidly, "if it's weird or you don't like it, just stop it. Or tell me or-"

“Slow down, Deacy! If you’ve worked on it, I’m sure it will be perfect,” she reassured him, quickly pressing a kiss to his cheek, “what’s it called?”

“You’re My Best Friend,” he answered with as a light blush crept into his cheeks. Y/N felt her heart soar at his words, and he nervously pressed the playback button. Y/N closed her eyes, as the sweet sounds of John’s song entered her ears. He was drumming his fingers nervously on the his thigh, so she grabbed his hand, and laced her fingers through his. He instantly seemed to calm down at the small gesture of reassurance.

Oohh, you make me liveeeee

Roger thought that the studio would be empty at this time in the evening. He was surprised to see some of the lights still on, but entered anyway, figured it he could pop in quickly and grab his stuff that he had forgotten earlier. He was so distracted bickering with Brian that he had completely forgotten his bag.

“Hello?” he called out as walked down the hallway. He didn’t hear anyone at first, so he figured that the lights might have been left on by accident. Roger walked into the recording booth, stopping in his tracks when he saw what he recognized as Y/N’s rain slicker near the door. He touched it gingerly, noticing it was still slightly wet. Her bag was stored nearby; she was definitely there.

Stepping inside the room, his eyes quickly landed on Y/N, cuddled up next to Deacy, both of them lost in their own worlds with headphones on. They didn’t notice that he had walked in. They looked so innocent and comfortable, both of them bobbing along slightly to whatever they were listening to.

Roger’s felt a pang in his chest as he watched the two of them, both of them grinning from ear to ear, as she held onto his hand in a tight grip. A sudden realization hit him - the song Deacy had written and they had been perfecting was for her. He took a moment to compose himself, otherwise he might have lost his cool then and there.

He contemplated going over and ripping their headphones off and yelling at them, even shoving his drumsticks up Deacy’s ass, but he stopped himself. It wasn't right for him to do that, she wasn't his anymore. Technically, they weren't doing anything wrong, but to Roger, it still felt so wrong.

“I wrote it for you,” he heard the other man’s voice say as he pulled off the headphones, “do you like it?”

“Deacy - you wrote this for me?” she asked, and Roger sucked in his breath. It was the same voice she always used when she was about to cry. He knew because he had heard it more often than he should have. Deacy mumbled a quiet response but he could see the man beaming, “I love it. It’s beautiful! Thank you so, so much. I don't think anyone has ever done anything so wonderful for me before."

“I was so nervous,” he admitted. He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly, “but I just wanted to let you know just how much I love you.”

“I love you too,” she responded gently as Roger watched her kiss him. His heart churned as he watched them silently. She used to say those very same words to him.

He remembered the first time she had said them to him - they were at Ridge Farm, and he had given her a late night surprise long after everyone was fat asleep. She had held onto him, kissing him gently as she had professed her love to him. Now, she was saying them to a different man.

Roger watched the two of them for a few moments, feeling his own eyes well up as he rushed away, completely forgetting the bag he had come back for in the first place. He had seen enough.

As Roger left, he slammed the door behind him, hoping that the two of would hear. Y/N jumped slightly at the sound, clutching onto John's arm. His cheeks flushed as they both realized that someone had intruded on them.

"Ooops," she ended up laughing, "I guess someone saw more than they wanted. Good thing we weren't doing anything too bad."

"That's for next time," he winked at her, and she laughed and hit his arm gently. He came off as innocent enough, but she knew better; it hadn't taken her long to figure out that there was lot lying underneath the quiet exterior.

"Oh my Deacy, you're so cheeky," she kissed his cheek. She studied his profile for a moment before getting a devilish smile on her face, "come on then. If you want to get cheeky, I can show you cheeky."

Roger all but ran onto the street, as he burst out of the studio. How he wished things were different and that was him in there with Y/N. It was supposed to be him, not John. She had always said it would be him.

"Rog, you're being so silly. Why do you want to go outside, it's freezing!?" Y/N clutched onto his arm as the blond drummer led her outside in the dark evening. She was giggling, but getting tired. It was quiet at Ridge Farm and everyone else was fast asleep. It was past midnight, but Roger was buzzing with energy, excited to reveal what he had in store for Y/N. She stifled a yawn as she followed close behind; it was dark out, their path only lightly illuminated by the lanterns outside.

"Must you always question me?" he asked, pretending to be hurt. She stuck her tongue out at him, as she pulled his jacket tighter her body. He took her hand as he turned a corner. She let out a gasp as she saw what was in front of her. There was a big fluffy blanket on the ground, surrounded by candles and in the center was a bottle of champagne with two flutes and some chocolate covered fruit, "surprise."

"Rog, you did this for me?" she asked, almost stunned speechless by the site in front of her. She looked at him and he nodded, suddenly feeling shy. She grabbed his lapels and pulled him close, kissing him gently. He smirked into the kiss, putting his hands on her waist.

"Do you like it?" he didn't know why he was asking got for reassurance, but somehow knowing she was happy seemed necessary. He was smitten by her.

“I love it,” she said, overcome with happiness at the gesture. No matter how gruff and rowdy he came off, he was truly soft and gentle when it came down to it. She bit her lip and looked at him nervously, wringing her hands, “I love you.”

Roger wasn’t quite sure if he had heard her properly at first, her voice was so faint and low. Nevertheless, his heart skipped a beat as he looked at the beautiful girl in front of him -the girl who had just told him she loved him. He smiled at her, pulling her close, their face mere inches apart. He touched her cheek gently before whispering, “I love you too.”

That was the first time they had said I love you to each other. But that was far away now, a distant memory in the past. Now, a mere year later, she was saying those words to another. His best friend. And he couldn't do anything about it.

He wished he could go back and change everything, take back all the pain he had caused her, but it was too late. He had messed up and ruined things, ruined her view of him. John had been there for her to pick up the pieces. John had become her hero.

He'd never forget the look on her tear stained as she screamed at him, telling him to get out of her apartment. She had even thrown a vase at his head, shattering and almost striking him. John, Brian, and Freddie were all there. Freddie had to drag Roger out; he didn't want to leave. John and Brian were there, holding Y/N back, and keeping her from completely breaking down.

But that was in the past. This was the present. Things were different now and he'd never be able to her back.

'Cause in my head, in my head, I do everything right When you call, when you call, I'll forgive and not fight Because ours, are the moments I play in the dark We were wild and fluorescent, come home to my heart

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[wroteclassicaly]

Fiercely Vigilant

Michael Langdon / Reader

A/N : Requested by an anon was a jealous Michael. I made him jealous of the emotional friendship the reader has with Mr. Gallant. Hope you all like this! Feedback is welcomed! Let me know how my writing of Michael is, cause’ I’m quite nervous about it. Hope you enjoy, Anon! Keep the requests coming, folks! ;) - Kristen

Warnings : Smut, nasty language, some violence, Michael being a cruel asshole Anti-Christ. I think that about covers it. 

You have to laugh at yourself for seeking out a dictionary, of all things to read. Another reason hand in hand with your status of sizzling gray to be ridiculed for. But really, you need to extend your vocabulary on describing this place that stretched beyond basic "This is bullshit. I'm bored. I'm hungry. I'm horny." pleas of exasperation. You were all starting to get on your own nerves. Even the purples were drained on energy most evenings.

Except Coco. That woman never shuts the fuck up. Whatever is in her cube must be a higher dosage. Perhaps Meade is sneaking in tranquilizers? Sleep deprived, wiping your blurry eyes you find yourself laughing at images containing everyone in the compound combusting into trunks and tails, humps and Dumbo ears.

Jocular. This is the word you're currently stuck on, fingernail pressed tightly into worn paper.

"And then she cut my credit card off like it was my dick, which, by the way, she wanted to suck. I'm like, honey, you're not a Hemsworth brother." A deep voice butters into your absurdly caught giggles. He raises a manicured chocolate brown brow, peering first at the thesaurus in your lap, then you. "Should've known that's what you were laughing about. You're such a fucking weirdo." Gallant pouts.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You snort with a mildly affectionate pat to his strong hand, that is resting across your ankle.

"You know I could ask you to wipe my ass instead of talking to you, right?"

Though his tone is meant to be more dignified, you know he's not serious, just being sour. You understand him though, oddly enough. Which is something most people don't here. He's not purple through and through. Coco might be Barney though, jury still has its vote out on that one. If there was a jury alive.

"I'd rather manscape you," You say tiredly, closing your words up, holding tightly to your new nightly read.

Relaxing, a sigh to accompany, Gallant's posture goes slack beneath his velvet smoking jacket, his fingers back to caressing the overworked heels of your stocking clad feet. It's rare. So fucking rare for this deep of a companionship to have formed between two more opposite people. The grays work for elites and leaders here, they do nothing but serve and take what little they are permitted. They don't have night long conversations, sneak down into the library after the fires are put out to search the library together for soft core porn or even poetry, and they don't share secrets they'd never dare tell anyone else, and they sure as hell wouldn't be caught together so casually, a gray looking as if she's an elite's queen, feet in his lap, being pampered to, when she is supposed to be kissing the radiation soaked ground for the chance to serve here, to live what life she can.

Yet here you both are, closer than Gallant's friendship with Coco, closest thing you've ever felt for another human being since years before the bombs fell. It's an unexplainable thing, you feel compelled towards Gallant's company and he to yours. Beneath all his shallow and hyper - vibrant exterior is someone in pain, angry. So you soothe him, you listen. You two be. You two are.

"Ugh, I can't believe you touch her more than a straight man would. If you wanted to touch a woman then you know you have me. This is so idiotic." Comes a slouchy whine to your left on the couch across from you two. Her dress fans around her the moment that she hits the cushions and your eyes roll, feet tensing in Gallant's lap with a tight flex as they also slide out.

His exterior is changing, fighting a gapped bridge where he's more settled, to his stuck up and snotty attitude that comes so natural to him that he breathes insults over air. You don't give him the chance to decide which persona he's taking on, for you've got your book tucked away, all too aware as you stand, knowing how much time it has taken to get you relaxed enough that your chores are way behind. A plummet frolics inside your muscles, all melted things hardening like ice, shocking, spilling sharp through your veins in spreads. Tucking away your yellow treasure into your apron, you go about fluffing pillows in chairs, checking candles, making sure things are in perfect order. Doesn't matter how clean things are, they can always be knuckle raw, fingernail bed bleeding - cleaner.

They're talking now, a secret smile cracking into the corners of your mouth at Gallant still directing his part from the conversation your way. "Wish I at least had Fifty Shades in these hands. With the right lighting and a little Christian Grey, it makes one happy man."

"Nora Roberts sounds pretty good. What I wouldn't give for a solid insta feed though, holy shit in Louboutin heels. " Coco agrees, sighing into a melancholy trail off.

"You know what I think?" Gallant has you both looking his way again. When he sees in special delight that he's got your attention, he edges on his seat before continuing, fingers tightly clasped together, licking his lips in thought. "I think Langdon has some kinky shit he brought with him around here somewhere."

"Like what?" Coco is damn near exploding now, bunching her knuckles white against the rustling fabric of her dress.

And you, your feet forget what the floor is and they sink as they still to hold you up. The mention of the man that's been combing your subconscious, your consciousness, your dreams, your fucking nightmares and your nerves, automatically hatches a slash through any calm serenity you've previously picked up. Everyone here has been obsessed or occupied with thoughts of and about this cooperative man. He claims salvation by test, paradise promised by sanctuary. While others are starved for stars, your last hopes are seeing their final hours.

There's no way someone is just going to come here, make this much of an impact, promise such things, then use hideous humiliation to gain a dangerous upper-hand without a flaming hellfire catch. It doesn't help you that in your previous life you were too scared to start drama when McDonalds messed up your order. Forget keeping your calm around Langdon, especially in your interviews. You feel stupid, guilty you even let yourself ease off knowing he's still very much present. Gallant has these looks he shares with Langdon, ones that baffle you, irritate you, worry you.

Guess he's handsome's favorite. Like you have a chance no matter what orientation Langdon is.

"Chains, leather, lots of fucking leather." Gallant damn near moans himself into the floor, snapping your reverie, your ears rearing back zone impact into their conversation.

In this moment you want to simply blend in with these people for the sake of solitude. Despite your weariness to whisper Langdon's name, let alone what you're about to say, you can't help a hot excitement prickling your flesh. "Like maybe a sex swing he hangs from like Tarzan?"

Coco looks more intrigued than you've ever seen her, Gallant is sliding his tongue over his lips more than necessary. Yep, you've succeeded in getting your naughty point across.

"Gray girl has a nasty ass mind. Gotta say that I'm impressed I wasn't the only one besides Gallant, looking at his dick. What you can see of it through that designer coat. I bet he has a studio of things back at the sanctuary. I can't wait for him to take me there." She babbles on, back resting into the plush couch, coasting on her own fantasy.

~*~

You didn't say goodnight to either elite after your little sexy pillow talk and wishes session. Gallant escorted Coco off to her room, the two of them gossiping about sex swings and fresh air, as you tried to lug your large mop bucket up the winding staircase. The heat from the candles is dizzying, your vision blotching out around your thirsting lips. You'd kill Venable for a drink of water right now but you're already behind. Thanking your newly acquired upper arm strength, you heave the heavy tin onto the landing, safely tucked away for you to start your last night time task.

By the time you've scrambled back down to pick up your propped mop, an electricity seems to charge the air, candles swaying without breeze. You know he's here before you actually know. Your body bows in his direction like a violent tornadic spin-up, your dingy boot paused cautiously on the final top step, your fingernails biting into the wood of the mop handle. Langdon is doing what he does best : observing you like a wild beast, something even predators are afraid to speak of. You don't tell yourself to calm down, you know it's ill advised and won't work with him.

"Working late tonight?" He pesters, Cheshire smirk pressing his beautiful features, though his eyes this playful mood does not reach.  

You shut off your brain that's screaming alarms at you head on fractured, blurting out whatever you come up with.

"I am, Sir. Which is my fault. I got caught up, I was -"

"Talking to Billy Idol?" He cuts you off, your jaw snapping shut.

"Billy Idol?...." You give yourself a second to leap the reference, shaking your head. So Langdon is pop cultured.

"I was talking to him, yes. And trying to finish my work. I didn't know if he or Miss Coco would require my services, so I stayed around the area."

You think you're coming out strong, halfway truthful but you believe in your words, your grip loosening slightly. That strength is shattered within moments. It's as if you can taste fire on the air, its nasty breath singing your neck. You rear back to see Langdon's polished boot kick your tin bucket to the front of the stairs and over, sending it crashing to its side, soapy water drenching your skirts and flooding the stairwell. There's a red hot heat to match your fearful shock, French kissing your disgusting embarrassment, rolling right into the sheets with your unbalanced temper.

You catch your upper lip wobbling, much to Langdon's unguarded pleasure. He sloshes his shoe to splash some water up at you, laughing, like he got what he wanted in some sick form of vengeance. You didn't think he noticed, nor cared enough to try to upset you this way. Guess that's not how things truly work with him. Your silence halts his laughter, forcing your curiosity to face him.

He's watching you watch him, but this time it's as if you're on equal footing. You're seeing through one another. He tilts his head, his hair casting brief shadows across his sharp face. He's fucking undeniably breath taking. You're trembling, he's recharging, no, he's surging on your emotions.

"Maybe you'd like to have Mr. Gallant assist you? Somehow though, I don't think he'd be pleased with this line of work, nor your presence in this state. Which is why it's difficult to understand why he puts himself in your pathway when he's walking on marble and you're the mud stained earth."

"I-" You suddenly fight for the air Langdon is invisibly holding vice, hostage max.

"Though if you promised to fill his hole with Venable's cane, then hold him after, maybe he'd indulge you."

There's a spark he recognizes with astonishment, not blocking, not surprised to get you, but for the first time powerless to bewilderment. You aren't thinking, you're feeling. Feeling your way through every damned patch of thorns, of bullshit, using your hands to battle your way. Your palm connects with a warm, muscular-bone shaped flesh, fingertips brushing slight into plump, soft lips. The echo your hit on Langdon causes is haunting, an eerie flush dusting across your skin.

You would swear on everyone's lives here that you saw nothing human in his eyes moments after he gets his bearings. Your pride is short lived, arm suddenly branded by his painful grip, hot like an iron, banishing your bones to dust, muscles twisting in being drug to his room, his office, whatever it is. Your body is seemingly everywhere at once, the room flying violently past your vision. Your legs crumble at the same time your back collides-tailbone first into the heavy double doors, locks sounding, making you itch. Langdon is tossing you by your wrist into his desk, your hip jutting into its sharp edge.

Scrambling back you decide it's fight or flight. He's already circling you, unyielding, so you need to do this. Propelling backwards behind his chair you reach for something glass, a stupid paper weight, holding it tightly. "I'll smash your fucking skull into your brains, Langdon, and I don't care what will happen to me after. It'll be worth it to see you die if you fucking touch me!"

You don't want him to meet death's door, though, you are startling to realize you've felt this way since you laid eyes on him, and that sets off a powerful lurch in your step, paperweight slipping, forgotten, rolling around his approaching feet. You let him grab you, let him seal your fate, permission all granted. If someone is going to die then it will be you, you just can't hurt him. He grips your apron strap, your book clattering in a thump, and then you're one with the cold floor below you, inches from the confines of the area rug. When he straddles you, you forget how to breathe, choking.

Bowing up, then down again, your arms fold to your sides, body holding. Langdon descends above you like an angel forged out of dark, enriching blood, whispering things like wings to his shadow, his coat black feathers you hunger to stroke. His leather clad legs have you caged in, his chest eases atop yours, his hair cascading a private curtain to enclose you in fate. His nose nudges yours, not giving in, changed, in synch with this newly slow dance tempo. You're gliding, gliding somewhere where only you two can walk on the dance floor, where the music exists solely for your ears.

This is more terrifying than you had felt before with him. Suddenly you're unsure of anything you've ever done in your entire life, questioning every waking decision. Hitting him is all you can be proud of, because it led to this. And this.... this scares you, being moved by violence towards a dangerous soul, it binds you. Langdon's ring clad finger strokes down your chin, across your jaw, up to your cheekbone to smear around dried tears of humiliation that you never knew you had cried.

He's got a red patch wound across his mouth from your imprint, an urge to lick at the skin, taste your hot hit on him tempting enough you feel your pelvis jolt off the floor, directly colliding with his.

You shiver into motions you can't control, gasping on cans of air that reach Langdon's lips. He tastes them, drawing his fingers back down the path they came, working to cup your breast through your apron and your overshirt. If you thought his presence fucked your nervous system up, then you know you're going to hell in a handbasket now. But you don't have time to question it, no. Langdon easily brings you up onto your shaky footing, holding you around your waist, fingertips skimming your breast, whilst he lets his other hand grip your tightly worn and issued twist at the top of your head, pulling until it releases your hair.

You sigh into a pregnant tremble, your head lighter, everything spinning, spinning to stillness. For an unusual amount of moments Langdon is quiet, observant in concern, defeating his voices to silence. He won't hurt you, not really. He can't.

The fact that that wasn't what actually upset him stirred his demon, spoke to his soul. You were guarded around him, shielding yourself by sheer emotion. No magics, no seduction, no wit. You didn't want him to see, but you let that idiot Gallant inside. The one that was so desperate for love Langdon was honest to Satan scared he'd try to find something with you.

Physical or not, he couldn't bare it.

"Why did you do this? I don't understand what happened," You whisper gently, seeking.

"You're an obstacle I did not expect to find here, nor do I want you. Gallant is a fucking problem. I should end you both, drive a fucking stake through your hearts as you're embracing. What a sweet little death for two insatiable romantics." And he's mocking you again, only this is tipping over into the bottom of the ocean cruel.

You scoot from his grip, appalled at what he's implying. Is the male ego that thick? Even now?

"Then you're not who you claim to be, because if you were, you'd know that Mr. Gallant would carry you over this buildings' threshold, ride off in your god forsaken carriage with you and leave us here to fry feed the cannibals." You finish, ignoring the sting in your eyes at him stating clearly what you already know.

He doesn't want you. But you shouldn't care beyond lust and competing for affections, having him when no one else does, that should be all you want. Not hurt that runs so damn deep you want to carve your heart out and demand he step on it, finish you. What's this otherworldly reason for wanting someone you don't even know, a sociopathic egomaniac - to love you? If love were to catch you, wrap itself around you like poison-why is it running so ahead of you that an abyss can't even capture its rapture, with a.... a man like this?

Langdon can read you so well again, continuing his monologue, spoken tongue to mouth, yours.

"Given the right environment, deprivation of human contact until the body cries out for something, any-fucking-thing, emotional stimulation, anyone can become more than they should, or ever knew that they could be together, Y/N." His voice is speaking to you, not down on you. And he's moving closer again, forward.

You don't know anything but this man on this earth. Who is everyone? Who the fuck are you? You just want to be in him, he in you. Together. No separation. You don't fight Langdon's touch, his forehead softly propping against yours. "I want every single part of you that you cling to, so I can shatter you, then put you back together. I want you to let me in the way you let him in."

Fucking breathe, don't forget that. No, you can't use Langdon's air. Not yet.

"I may not want you, but I need you. I shouldn't, but I ache for you. And I've eaten, but I could ravish you until there is nothing left but what I desire to be." He's crowning your chin in a gentle touch, feather-like, almost as if you can share the drumming pulse right from his fingertips through you. He too is a little more shaky, something you are too slack-jawed to comprehend.

It settles like snowfall, quiet enough for live clouds to form above your heads. Langdon guides your cold and sweaty palm to wipe off on his shirt, taking note to your nerves, not entirely objecting. He still likes you squirming. You're swung by a force so inhuman, you believe it has prayed over you in hisses, forever winding into your skin. There's no turning back, but you knew that from the moment he got here.

You're moving, like ghosts, fast paced, not quick enough. There's orange and yellow blurs pattering across your vision in fuzzy shapes, candlelight. This place is leaving you flabbergasted. It's like any other room but it's his. His sanctuary.

Your body is laid back across some sheets, stretched out like an art exhibit on the mend, striving for greatness. Langdon's coat is off, his scarf following, drifting into the chair you were unaware is here. You don't know exactly what you should do, your animalistic instincts trying to snap their violent jaws through leashes of your thinly held self-control. There's a wisp that snaps an air so warm you bite into your cheek, fisting the covers beside you, head lolling to the side, a moan vibrating throughout your entire body. You arch to it like a willing prisoner on the verge of her freedom.

What are you doing to me?  You don't voice it, all stomping surround sound guides it. You sense cosmic connection, fucking space extended, mother nature pumping your blood. You wither around like a fish on dry land, thirsting for a stream of whatever Langdon offers you. Maybe you can hear music, anything you wish.

Are you dreaming? Did you fall on those stairs? What is this?

"Don't restrain it, don't hold back, don't let the human reservations consume what your body wants. I can smell you," Langdon breathes, giving you his supply, knees pressing into his bed. "How openly ripe your heart is, how I want it bared to me, unguarded, the way Mr. Gallant takes you to try and make his pathetic existence matter."

"I'm not, I'm just," Fuck, it's like he's controlling the weather in here, executing your every attempt at a clear breath. " We talk, that is it, Sir. I'm just here to be whatever it is they deem me-"

"Bullshit!" Langdon roars, arms wildly flailing out, posture still staying perched nearer to your knees. "You're spouting a previously written verse. How dare you think you can lie to me, even now? Even after you struck me and I never slit your weak, little throat?"

His temper doesn't level quickly, not like you're used to seeing if he's irritated. The changing movement coaxes you to be bold once more, tears nearing your lash line, shame dripping past your slick thighs. "If you know I'm so weak then why are you getting off on trying to keep proving I am, Langdon? That seems below you, doesn't it? Like me, like I am to Gallant outside these walls. Hell, in them if he could have a shot at something more, a shot at you."

His brow raises, chest shapes his ribs visible beneath his black undershirt at your usage of his last name. He notices your acidic hiss as you spit out the last part of your sentence, zeroing in on him. It's clear. So you dislike your friend's adoration, yearning for him? So many complicated layers between human beings.

He wasn't aware he clouds his own knowledge. This further proves that you're unhinging him to a sway he can't fathom. A sturdy hand filters above, up, to lay beside your knee, your body still locked in place. "You envy one another in ways, then you act as if you care for each other, despite everyone here thinking you belong outside, or that you should be licking the very floors they fantasize were built for them."

"It's not that way all the time. Better than nothing, knowing him more than they do," You softly respond.

"And this is why you continue to let him in? Because his presence feels good enough to make you forget the loneliness?" Langdon questions, seemingly so very interesting now he's tilting his head, making his hair fall over his eyes. You want to object to those beautiful things being covered, but you remain mum. He's got it and he lets it click.

"We share the most degrading human emotion," says Langdon, this time dropping a knee to your right, lifting himself above you slowly.

"Is that the answer to why you're interested in me and Gallant, Sir?" You rasp, wanting to scoot away, brain warning you, everything else unraveling fast.

"Michael." Another knee that presses, bringing him atop you like your dark angel. For a moment you think he knows Gallant's first name, then it sweeps you into a magnetic design, your thighs hitting his kneecaps.

"Use my name however you see fit, Y/N. Let me break this lonesome disposition inside you. Give it all to me, not to a worthless attention seeking man. I don't care what he wants, I don't care if he doesn't pine for what's between your legs. He'll overtake you before either of you know it."

"He's doesn't want me like that," You stutter. "You're mad because I won't fold into you like the rest?"

"You won't let anyone in but him, when I should be already inside you." Michael confirms, as if this is so obvious a rat could figure it out.

"So just your ego. To conquer. Okay then, I'm out." Your body does start to move this time, salty tears spilling, bypassing your wishes, before Michael completely wipes himself from your space. You have to blink a few times to make sure you can still see him, far away, like he can move without even walking. He's not close enough, you want to hit him, take him, taste him, give all he wants even if you're terrified. How can he mess with you like this? It must be in this air, polluting, veiling.

"We share jealousy, you and I. But together we can cure it, rid ourselves of unsatisfaction." His back is firm against the heavy wooden door, candlelight curving out every space you can see from your placing. "If you let me in, let me be the one to break those walls down and build mine around you."

"Michael, please.... Just." You choke on your stretching gasp, a fist to your throat, arm holding across your lungs. What more can you say? He wants you to stop being guarded, stop letting what little you let out with someone that isn't him. Some man that reeks power, god-like, is chewing on his lip, wetting it, unbuttoning his shirt to smooth his fingers across his glowing flesh, what he lets you see of it.

"Open your fucking legs." Michael barks out, striding quickly, meeting in front of you.

A searing heat releases your leashes, uncaring. You sink your teeth into your lip, trying to draw blood, needing to taste something soon. You throb even more than you have been, tumbling, spinning, stumbling into Michael Langdon. Doubt is trying to wave itself in there, more warnings. Michael cuts them away, peeling back his shirt without eye contact faltering, muscles in his neck moving.

"You could have anyone here. This is too easy. There's better people for you." You try one more time. Denying yourself, this is insanity at its finest.

"I don't want anyone else this way, I never really have had the use for it beyond release. These morons here, they don't count for that kind of time. I want this endeavor to be...worth it." The fabric of his shirt drops at his booted feet, his entire chest expanded to your line of sight. He's taut, not overly so. Skin slightly tanned, creamy to blend. His muscles are strong, but they're not overpowering, no, that is elsewhere.

He radiates everything your mother warned you wasn't good, but you can't let this be wrong when it feels so fucking right. You attempt for your final-failed try.

"I can't please you, you're judging me as if I'm some key you've finally gotten. I'll disappoint you, Michael, I will." You berate yourself in shameful truth, already petrified of shedding your clothing, your skin, warped against his hard body, all the while you're pussy is growing more damp, threatening more tears if it's not attended to.

He gives a sigh so loud it could be a beasts' rumble. It lets him give his body to you, pressing over you, so hot you're sharing his heartbeat, breasts straining to be freed, to feel his delicious skin that houses whatever he is. He dips, rolls his hips like a snake dancing for its helpless prey, knees working against you, pelvis thrusting in tilting circles. Your apron, your skirt goes up your body, over your knees, his leather covered legs nudging it, commanding it around your hipbones. His knuckle moves so fast that it's not until you hear fabric rip, a shining glint off his ring that vanishes between your thighs, its sharp body slicing the fabric of your stockings apart down the middle, leaving a gateway to your panties, closer to you.

He's not talking, he's performing. His ringed finger circles your navel, brushes back and forth across your abdomen, spelling, shaping, mapping the elastic of your underwear, causing you to shake away, not getting anywhere. It goes on like this for what feels like an eternity. Just him testing you, stroking, getting your body slick with perspiration that sparkles like jewels in the rooms' lighting. And when you think he's done talking for tonight, planning to take, he startles your glazed over gaze at his working fingers - that pause on you.

"I'm not judging you by your cunt," Michael unravels on a long brush with a deep breath, inhaling you at the same instance he cups you warm, firm, fingers slipping between your sticky folds, kept covered by your sopping cotton panties. "Although, if I were.... yours would be filled with my cock, womb drowning in my seed. And that's something I'm not willing to give to just anyone, Y/N."

This time you do get closer to him on your own accord, hands finding purchase by nails biting painfully into your palms, pumping to push against his chest. He hums, a genuine grin pleasuring his features. Easing, you're sharing a way into you, he's finding you, you're coming together. He's denying you now that he sees you want it, teasing you, however. You bite off painful insults, he's chuckling, swiping a finger in circles, pushing down so hard you cry out.

Michael is saying something that you try to wake up for in your swollen state. He's showing you his damp finger, commenting how your juices coated him through a layer of fabric. You're halted, stamped to his watchful eye, the pop of his finger sucking your taste off. "You want to touch me more than you want my fingers to spread you apart, don't you?"

You're whimpering, nodding yes, trying to keep a hold of being here, but you're slipping, losing yourself in him, damn near begging.

"Don't hold back. Tell me what you want and then we'll take it, Y/N, together."

"Break me down and be with me, Michael." You find yourself answering immediately, right away, throwing yourself off this precipice.

Hefty arms draw around you and they drag you close, hands working to free you of your apron, buttons ripping, scraps, meaningless clothing everywhere. You need to get back to what Adam and Eve were. Bared, nature covering them barely, concealing enough to birth their story. You and Michael. You want nothing to stand between you two.

Concept of time isn't meaning anything anymore, it's rare and stops for you. Your clothing piles beside the bed, Michael's boots thump to hardwood, your hearing swerving in and out, sensitive to each sound you hear past your roaring heartbeat churning blood through your ears. You engulf tightly, parting your legs further like he called for, heels of your feet pressing into the backs of his strongly moving knees. Your hands are shoving themselves to the button on his pants, impatient, maniacal. He can't stop to assist you, too caught in pressing his lips to your collar bone, leveling a reward to your breasts in stride.

Firm planes of muscular structure drag across your nipples that harden with temperature, the promise of temptation full-filled. You have his zipper down by the time he's taking a neglected peak into his mouth, a gasp thrust into the air from you. His hair trickles across your chest, soft and sweeping. You maneuver a scoop into each side of his leather, noting he's simply wearing thin boxer briefs that cling to him like a wet t-shirt would. It lights you like no other.

Desperation doesn't cover what possesses you in this instance, so close to having this, taking this with him. Exerting yourself to extract this specimen form his too tight for any one person - bottoms, causes you to grit your teeth to challenge. Michael sucks, kisses, prods his tongue at your nipple, paddling the pumping throb your cunt is beating into you. A willing dance partner you sway in his steps, swallowed by his shadow, his solid golden fresh skin glued to your heaving body. You want to cry wantonly that you're coming, yet Michael hasn't touched you enough for it to peak.

Then again.... he doesn't need to, he.... he just. Can. You can't explain how the wheels in your head are turning as your bodies meet over and repeat. You're spinning in suspense, hung out to float, cunt clenching around nothing, recognizing him already, as if its been made to house him. Patting yourself on the back is what you want to do, a giggle tossing over your bare shoulder, Michael's pearly whites grinning into your skin.

You've gotten his leather pants down below his ass, eager fingers measuring bravely. It's there, it's thick, silk with slick, straining deliciously that you're salivating, not shy like you'd pictured you be in all your fantasies. Drawing your nails like claws protruded, your rake them down his shoulder blades which work to hold him up, streaming his back, resting purchase on his ass, then you give it your all, both of you swirled into a gusting gasp. Your sense of smell is stronger, alive, heady to the copper you know you've set free tearing into Michael's skin. It pleases you.

This King reigns in his self-control, eyes damn near black, blowing out all that icy blue. His lips red and wet, inviting you to taste your own salty sweat off his mouth. A kiss, an offering. You launch at it, granting yourself permission to tangle your fingers into his air, wrapping around your wrists, yanking in your fist. Each movement you make glides his heavy cock through your slit, rudely scattering what is overflowing from your pussy.

He's getting huffy, you're abruptly impatient.  Michael finally frees back, lingering his look on you, fighting for his own oxygen. He's flushed, soaked, needing. And it's you whose to give it to him. You're to surrender.

It's what this whole thing was about. Letting him in.

Dropping your legs from around his lower waist, you watch him, unsteady breaths trampling your chest cavity into pathetic particles, then you slosh two fingers in voyage all across your dripping sex. Your thighs shake, knees struggle to frame this. His eyes are nearly growing impossibly black, almost hollowing him out. If it hurts then oh well, but you can't keep going on like this. You have to have him before the next second passes.

"Come here," You whisper, using your hands to separate your folds for him.

Alight, mischievous with a given gift, Michael takes his cock through your lips and gives no formal warning. Only foul, filthy, fitting, and desirable.

"You're going to let me push my cock into you now, aren't you? Fuck you until I'm emptying myself inside you, hiding." He dribbles to his knees, holding you by your thighs, keeping you shown. "Do you want me to hurt you? I can make it hurt, oh how I can make it hurt." He's dropping by your ear in a bend, lips letting you in on this choice.

"Michael just take it all, you can have it all. It's yours, it's been waiting for you," You belt out, whimpering like a frightened animal, spooking Michael into a fast thrust.

It's brutal, it stretches you beyond your means, bouncing your body up the bed. Those razor claws sink to Michael's wrists, your ass trying to meet his experimental rhythm, fast and punishing. You can hear everything full blast again, like a roaring train louder than the bombs were, the destruction, the night noises, the loneliness. Michael walks his fingers down your ankle and drags your leg over his shoulder.

You turn to press your face into the bedsheets beside you, a searing pain locking your muscles around him so hard you can feel your sticky wetness seep out from around where you're joined. He strikes a hand out and forcefully cups your chin in his hand, moving up and down in front of you, like he's gliding. Your mouth is shaped to form an O, not able to look away, pinpoint.

"I want you to look down and watch me fuck your selfish, greedy cunt." Is Michael's demand, wrought out iron to steal and every other damned thing you can think of that holds structure.

Who are you to refuse? Intrigued, ride hitched, you hang onto him, dash into his painful thrusts and moan loud enough to wake whatever is left of the world's population. You're swollen around him, your thick and creamy arousal pooling all over the sheets, noisily mashing at his cock, against his balls with each slam they make against your ass.

"That's it, Y/N. Let me in, let me deep inside. I'll never leave you."

"Michael, fuck, more, let me kiss you."

He surprises you both by answering without pause, biting into your plump lip, licking his tongue into your mouth, letting his lips workout the breaths he tries to inhale -into your shared airspace. You release his wrists, moon marks a bracelet of markings to him. He nuzzles your breast, hips slamming into the bed just as you grab his neck's nape, cradling. And then it happens faster than either of you knew you needed it to. He gives a little more into you, focused, discovering.

Piles of debris could've fallen on you both, unbeknownst to you. Michael barely grazes your clit on an upstroke that hits a slick spot you didn't know exists, sending your cunt to sheathe him tightly, your warmth milking his cock, raining down on him that he curls into you, crying out. You're overheated all too much, shivering, panting, an explosive shake clasping your pussy, pulling until you're boneless,  Michael's body lax to keep atop you. You feel like your ears are hearing static. Only white noise and Michael Langdon.

It's a deep-set fascination watching his cum spill back down your thighs, white and hot. You lick your lips, already starving for so much more. It's there, it has to be. Michael doesn't put himself away yet, instead hums looking over you, settling in front of you on his knees. He's gotten the key and this door is sealed behind you both.

[rkpjy]

⭐️MGA 5 EPISODE 3 ↪ perfoming romanticism by leo with @rkjeonghxn outfit inspiration: x  x line distribution & times: x 

it’s always easier to move on to the next round when there are a lot of contestant. the fewer they become and the harder the choices will be for the five ceos. there’s undoubtedly a lot of raw talent in this room, some maybe more polished than others, some mostly relying on their popularity and star factor. the latter can’t be downplayed of course, as there’s no reason to have skill in the first place if people aren’t interested in you or want to follow you. still, it’s always a little annoying to see such people get by with minimal talent.

soon after jinyoung returned to his seat following his interview, the entire set falls silent. everyone’s eyes are glued to the judging panel, waiting for the dreaded moment when they will announce the results. his newly found acquaintance changbin is nominated as the top rapper, which comes to no surprise to jinyoung, but it’s choi minho who takes the win. unlike a lot of people here, jinyoung doesn’t feel any type of way for that guy. despite his best friend being in convex, he knows very little about the group and what kind of drama happened that led to the rapper’s departure. he’s not a hater nor is he a fan, and although he didn’t dislike his performance, he wouldn’t have gave him the win either.

he keeps a straight face throughout the eliminations, just quietly wishing not to be on that list when the singer’s turn comes. the top 3 dancers are called to the stage, and he recognizes hwang yeji from that one day at the hospital. they haven’t spoken since and he wishes her well. she’s a pretty good dancer despite her young age, but so is lee chaeryeong. as for suwoong, well, it’s not a question of talent really, but more his personality that jinyoung can’t quite figure out. he’s satisfied with yeji’s win, just as he is satisfied with heejin’s win later on. there was a slight disappointment about not making the top 3 but then again, he still believes he performed the best he could. for someone as obsessed with perfect as he is, it’s hard to accept average results, but he’s a good sport. heejin, as he’s noted multiple times already, is a very good singer. he wonders if she can dance well too, because if she does then she’s almost guaranteed to go to the end. her looks are very idol-like, not to mention she’s young.

joohyun was probably the most surprising elimination for jinyoung. he knew she made a mistake, they all did, and it’s unexpectedly fair that they wouldn’t favor her due to her past participations and already established level of popularity. she’s one of the known contestants here that everyone talks about to the point where jinyoung also knows about it, and even if don’t want to show bias, maybe he thought they would show more leniency towards someone they know, and he now stands corrected. there is no second chance in this competition, and no room for weakness.

he applauds heejin’s win with a proud smile, and it’s probably the first time anyone will have caught him looking so pleased since the very first audition. he’s also happy for sihyeon who’s finally been recognized for her talent. it’s kind of funny how some of those who changed categories managed to survive unlike those who truly wanted to show their best skill. in hindsight, it was pretty clever of them to do so and jinyoung wonders if this was calculated on their part. he doubts so for daniel, who probably just innocently wanted to show another side of himself. but that’s if he’s still the same person he knew all those years ago in busan. maybe he’s changed, like jinyoung did.

he doesn’t care much for the following eliminations, as nobody he knows has been sent home. instead, he pays close attention to what is said next. they are to be paired off in duos and present a neat performance showing not only talent but also teamwork. and it’s probably what he dreads most as of now. it’s not as easy for him to get along with people as much as he’d like, and depending on who he ends up with, this assignment might be his first real challenge. he doesn’t necessarily want to be with a friend, however, because it doesn’t always mean it will lead to a good performance. he ends up with yoon jeonghan.

they’re not friends per say, but they do know of each other and have worked together in the past on musical productions. jinyoung is very enthusiastic at the idea of performing with someone who has talents and tastes similar to his, but it can also be an obstacle in the end. they can’t put up something too expected. it’ll be boring to watch for everyone.

that’s the subject they talk about when they first meet up for practice. “since they know we’re both passionate about musicals, i don’t think we should choose that type of song. what do you think?” he asks jeonghan who promptly agrees. they’re both aware they need to showcase something different, more creative and challenging. something that will throw the judges off, hopefully in a good way. they spend a while just searching online, or scrolling down their playlists in order to find the perfect fit. and after going through several choices, they finally decide on romanticism by leo. the key is to make all the right changes to the choreography and harmonies so it looks and sounds as if it was meant for two people instead of just one. they need to be in complete unison, and not just seem like two individuals performing the same song at the same time.

their first practice consists of making these arrangements and going through them a couple times to see if they fit well, and deciding on the parts they’ll each sing. they both agree to practice on their own whenever they have free time, then meet together every day for several hours so they can put it all together. it just won’t work if they both work separately.

while jinyoung criticizes a lot, he’s also very open to criticism himself. as long as it’s nothing insulting, he believes this is the only way one will grow, and not with fake praises. if he sucked, he wants to know. if he does one movement wrong, he wants to know so he can fix it. if jeonghan feels it would be better if they switched one part because it sounds off, he’ll be open to the idea. what he finds exhausting is those who are too scared to make any kind of negative comment, or who take everything too personal. they’re impossible to work it, not to mention annoying. it’s all meant to enhance the performance. the judges won’t chose the best out of the two of them. so either they win together, or fail together. it doesn’t matter if one sings five seconds more, as long as it makes the whole thing better.

it’s surprisingly easy to work with jeonghan, and jinyoung comes home at night almost with a spring in his step, telling mina about how practice is going with a lot more details than usual. he’s optimistic, hopeful. if it were to suddenly come crashing down....

the two men sit next to each other, and jinyoung can’t help but notice there’s so few of them compared to the first episode. sixty chairs have disappeared since then. he remains exactly like the second episode, face stoic as he watched the first few duos perform on stage. the only moments he stops being a statue is in-between performances, as he leans over to jeonghan and whispers things inaudible to cameras, about what he liked and didn’t like.

yugyeom goes before with him, with a contestant called do kyungsoo, and he honestly has no idea what to expect when they first start. it seems like they managed to use each other’s strength and make up for the other’s weakness quite well, and jinyoung hopes it’s enough for them to make it through. some of the duos make unexpected yet good pairs, and some match so well it’s almost boring. he wonders if this will be the case for jeonghan and him, although they didn’t go for a musical number. are their skills too similar? but it’s not like they can suddenly pretend one of them can rap either, so there’s nothing they can do about it if they were put together.

they go near the end, with only three duos left after them. they both bring a chair to the center of the stage and sit on them after introducing themselves. the original artist has a very specific way of dancing, that makes every movement look smooth but not sloppy, and sensual but not sexual. there’s a fine line they can’t cross, and jinyoung does feel like they got in down after hours and hours of practice. jeonghan starts off the song with his first lines.

In my mind you’re my lord, the reality is not close enough You’re my one You’re my one

jinyoung parts his legs in a swift motion as the dance obliges, and because there are no backdancers, instead of gesturing to his empty side, he briefly cups jeonghan’s chin instead, making it one of a several modifications to the original choreography. it’s not hard to imagine he’s singing to his girlfriend right now, and wishing she was the one dancing with him. jeonghan and him aren’t exactly flirting together, their actions more inclined to the audience, but there still needs to be a connection between them, a sensuality that can be felt all the way to the very back of the studio. I see through your body, The sign that gets my sensitivity wet Your eyes are chasing after my movement As if saying come after you

in the middle of this verse they both stand up, leaving their chairs behind for the time being. the way they arranged this part suits the lyrics well. it’s as if they’re also chasing each other, delivering their lines back and forth like one echoes the other, and as jeonghan finishes it, jinyoung prepares for the chorus. two minutes isn’t long at all, and after this they’re jumping straight to the bridge so the transition isn’t too cut and dry. Dive-in for me at this moment, make me shiver one time Romanticism in our world together now Let’s feel it romantically, together now

the dance gets more intense and demanding, but they’ve arranged for them to sing half of it together, harmonizing each other. jinyoung’s gaze is piercing, and he has fun flirting with the crowd. there are a lot of parts in this song where they rub their chest, their face or roll their hips, and there’s a risk to make it look cheap and very cringe-worthy if they’re not careful, so they made sure to tell the other whenever it was too much, or not enough. they want to mesmerize the audience, not turn it off.  Piece of you for just one moment Feel me from now on

Let’s feel it sensually, together now Girl you know I’m watching you together now

they had to cut the last chorus in half to fit in the time requirement, but in the end it doesn’t really matter since they jump next into the other half which is kind of a nice follow-up and uses the same lyrics. they sing most of it together, dancing in sync.

together now.

[xb-squaredx]

B-Squared’s Top 10 Games of 2019!

2019 was a year full to the brim of GREAT games, and as is the custom at the end of the year, people love to rank their favorites, so…I’d like to do the same! Of course my own tastes might be different from yours so if you don’t see a thing on here that you liked, chances are I didn’t like it…or more likely, there’s just too many great games out this year, and I couldn’t get to everything. I’d like to stress to that the rankings don’t really matter all that much, especially the farther down we go. Everything on here is an easy recommendation. Without any further ado…let’s take a look at my Top 10 Games of 2019~

#10 - River City Girls

I love action games, but 2D beat-em-ups never really clicked for me. They were largely before my time and I was thinking that it’d be impossible to get me into one in the current era of gaming. And then I saw Marian’s redesign for River City Girls and bought the game. What can I say? Abs are a great sales pitch. But seriously, getting Wayforward on the helm of a beloved classic franchise is already a great way to pique my interest, and while there’s SOME aspects of this game that I don’t quite gel with, it’s a fun, colorful romp through a ridiculous universe that I’d LOVE to see more of down the line. Featuring a role-reversal, with the girlfriends saving the boyfriends this time, River City Girls has gorgeous pixel art, an AMAZING pop-synth soundtrack that’s worth the price alone, and it’s a game that clearly had fun with the concept and that fun rubs off on you. From the stylish animated boss intros, to the co-op fun that can be had with a friend, everything in this game is brimming with charm. Basic NPCs have great designs in their own right, being able to recruit enemies as assists is a neat idea, and it all adds up to a fun, bite-sized adventure with a bit of depth under the hood if you’re willing to give it a look. Can the character designers get a raise for this game, please? And let Megan McDuffie just do all the songs from now on. ALL OF THEM.

#9 - Astral Chain

Most people assumed if we were going to get a Switch exclusive game by Platinum this year, it’d be Bayonetta 3 but instead Nintendo surprised us with Astral Chain, the anime cop action game we didn’t know we wanted. The game boasts great visuals and is probably the most content-rich Platinum game ever made for starters, but for me the true draw is in the combat. Playing as your police officer in tandem with an alien creature known as a Legion, this tag-team action game is unlike pretty much anything else on the market. While the game starts off very simplistic, the Legion itself moving and attacking with no input from the player, over time more and more options unlock and things get considerably more complicated. By game’s end, you’re drowning in options, and once things clicked, combat was always a treat. With plenty of enemies to practice with, Legions to master and a gigantic post-game filled with challenging encounters, I had more fun with the combat in this game than I did with a lot of other games this year. That said, I do feel that Astral Chain could have benefitted from trimming some fat or rethinking its overall structure. For being a new IP with some bold ideas, I’m willing to accept these as kinks that can hopefully be ironed out in a sequel. Oh, and add Lappy to Smash already. You know you want to, Sakurai.

#8 - BABA IS YOU

Puzzle games are hard sells for me, since I don’t like the frustration that often comes from being stuck. You feel dumb, you get embarrassed and turn the game off in shame, or at least that’s my experience. But then sometimes you get a game so clever, so…weird, that you can’t help but be sucked into it. BABA IS YOU is a block-pushing puzzle game, with the twist being that the “rules” of a particular stage are often physically present in levels and are in fact blocks that can be pushed and manipulated by the player. ROCK is PUSH, WALL is STOP, FLAG is WIN and BABA is YOU. But what if you can’t touch the flag because the wall is in the way? Well, make it so WALL is PUSH to move it aside, or maybe make it so that BABA is WIN and you become the win condition itself. As the game goes on, more modifiers and rules are slowly introduced and absorbed into your own internal logic of the game, logic that increasingly has to be broken and remade to suit your needs. It’s a very empowering experience when the solution clicks and the results can often be hilarious and surprising. This game also GOES PLACES the further you go in, and I’d rather not ruin that surprise for anyone who might be looking into the game. Definitely one of the most innovated titles I’ve played in a LONG time. BABA is GOOD.

#7 - Power Rangers: Battle for the Grid

OK, so…hear me out. Power Rangers was a franchise I was obsessed with as a kid, and while I don’t follow it anymore, there’s still some love for it flowing in my veins. So when a small, no-name studio puts out a Power Ranger fighting game that takes the simplified controls of Smash Bros. and the tag-team craziness of Marvel vs. Capcom and slaps it all together for a cool twenty bucks or so? Well you got yourself a purchase and it ended up being WAY more fun than I expected. Power Rangers: Battle for the Grid is far from the best looking fighter on the market, it’s single-player content is lacking, and it’s roster, while interesting, isn’t as big as a lot of the competition, but damn if it isn’t fun to play. With characters taken from across the franchise’s long history, from the live-action movie reboot to the comic books, each choice has been inspired and resulted in an incredibly varied cast. With no crazy inputs for special moves, combined with a tagging system that lets you cycle through your three-Ranger team quickly, the game is the best kind of chaotic fun, but true masters can command that chaos and channel it into cool combos that make you want to say “Morphinominal!” Considering it’s a budget title, it’s also received a fair amount of updates throughout the year to pad out the roster with both free and paid DLC fighters, a full story mode and improvements to the netcode and overall presentation., so if you passed on it at launch, it’s much improved now. It’s not gonna be a fighting game on everyone’s radar, but I’d rather support it than the grind-heavy slog Mortal Kombat has become…Now just hurry up and add that monster that baked the Rangers into a pizza!

#6 - New Super Lucky’s Tale

If your name isn’t Mario or Sonic, 3D platformers are effectively dead. That said, there’s been a few up-and-comers in recent years that are trying to revive the genre. Hat Kid from A Hat in Time, the duo of Yooka-Laylee, and now Lucky from the folks at Playful Studios. The cute fox has quite the history, starting from the Oculus Rift title, Lucky’s Tale, to a full-fledged platformer on the Xbox One X, Super Lucky’s Tale and now the enhanced port/reimagining New Super Lucky’s Tale on Switch. Halfway between a full-blown sequel, and enhanced edition, the game takes assets from the Xbox original game, tweaking and refining everything from visuals to controls to level layouts. The result is a game that is incredibly well-polished. It looks great, Lucky is a treat to control as he moves from jumping, burrowing and sliding around fluidly, and the variety on display keeps things interesting. We’ve got full 3D levels, 2D levels, auto-runners, and even some marble maze levels and puzzles thrown in for good measure. It’s not a hard game, but it IS incredibly fun, and well made. We don’t get many 3D platformers these days, so cherish what little comes of the genre. I hope Playful and Nintendo continue to collaborate, as they really seem more at home here. Just…maybe don’t add more words to the title of the next game, guys.

#5 - Katana Zero

There’s no nice way to say it: there’s too many pixel-based, side-scrolling indie games out there, so the ones that DO stand out deserve to be celebrated. Katana Zero has a real ‘80s flair for starters, using bright neon, TV and VCR visual effects, and a synth soundtrack to give it some real style. When a game kicks off with you slowing down time and reflecting a bullet back at an enemy with your katana, you make a good first impression! Add in the trial-and-error that is planning the perfect route through a stage, the satisfying slicing and dicing of enemies, the unique, challenging boss encounters, and you have a game that was on my radar for a while, before I finally got into it at the end of the year. Its storyline is pretty interesting too, with some slight variances in how events unfold depending on your words and actions, though it ending on a bit of a cliffhanger is a bummer. That said, when a game leaves you wanting more, there’s worse problems to have. At the very least, there’s some DLC hinted at that might be interesting, as well as the implications that this is the merely the first in a trilogy, and at this point I’m game for whatever developer Askiisoft has in store.

#4 - Luigi’s Mansion 3

The GameCube was an odd era for Nintendo, as they attempted to innovate and try new ideas rather than rely purely on their old standbys. Case-in-point, rather than launch the console with a new Mario platformer, his second-banana brother Luigi got his first starring role in what would become the Luigi’s Mansion series. While not making QUITE as big of a splash as maybe Nintendo hoped, it’s garnered a decent fanbase, and when a sequel was announced for 3DS, people ate it up. Considering the gap between the first and second games, I think many people were surprised at the relatively quick turn-around for the third installment. I was also surprised at the overall quality and how much I enjoyed digging into it. For starters, Luigi’s Mansion 3 is easily one of the better-looking Switch titles, boasting some great lighting and particle effects, with some fun physics implemented for just about everything in the massive mansion. Luigi and company are animated with a lot of expressiveness that never gets old, and the music sets the tone perfectly too. From a gameplay standpoint, the toolset Luigi gains gives him ample options to poke at every nook and cranny, with the slimy doppelganger Gooigi being the clear stand-out. Some of the floors of the Last Resort hotel that Luigi must ascend are particularly massive and intricate too, some floors feeling like Legend of Zelda-style dungeons. While not a particularly challenging game, it’s still really satisfying to poke and prod at everything in sight, sucking in all the coins, gold bars and stacks of paper bills you can handle, not to mention slamming the ghosts around like the Hulk does to Loki. There’s also multiplayer! That I…haven’t really touched but…hey! More bang for your buck, surely!

#3 – Dragon Quest XI S

I don’t consider myself a huge fan of JRPGs. Or at least that’s what I thought before I tried out the Dragon Quest XI demo on Switch. I ended up falling for the game hard and bought the full release, carrying my demo data over and not stopping until I hit credits. Despite having never touched a Dragon Quest game before, outside of an hour or so of VIII, I was overcome with this feeling of nostalgia when it came to this game. That’s because Dragon Quest is THE quintessential JRPG game, the originator of all that we take for granted today. It was nice to feel right at home with a simple, effective combat system, rather than having to watch games re-invent the wheel in an attempt to stand out from the pack (sorry Xenoblade), and the story itself, while predictable and a little basic at times, was told well and told earnestly. It really nailed the feeling of going on a grand adventure, with enough twists on the formula to keep things interesting. The turn-based combat was elementary, but always presented me with fair challenges and lots of ways to solve the encounters laid before me, with enough quality-of-life features added in to minimize grind and make things more convenient. The Switch version of Dragon Quest XI featured a bunch of new content on top of a game that had more than enough going for it, and it’s clear a lot of work was done to make this port as faithful as could be, and it stands out not just as a great port on a system known for some shoddy ones, but as a title that’s brimming with as much polish and quality to rival first-party Switch titles. Don’t ban Hero in Smash and don’t miss out on this game if you haven’t taken the plunge already!

#2 – Devil May Cry 5

The Devil May Cry franchise has had its share of ups and downs over the years. For every game that’s considered a success, you have another game that doesn’t quite measure up. For years many thought the franchise was dead in the water after the attempted reboot, DMC: Devil May Cry failed to grow its audience, but when Microsoft’s E3 2018 show revealed to us a new installment, fans were ecstatic. Devil May Cry 5 boasts crisp visuals, deep combat and trims the fat, removing the wonky platforming and puzzles of earlier games to create a high-octane action experience that ultimately exceeded fan expectations. Its storyline firmly plants Devil May Cry 4’s Nero as a main character in his own right, wraps up the story of the Sparda brothers neatly, and if this ended up being the last title in the series, I think it’s that rare ending that ends up being totally satisfying. Combat is the real draw here though, the game giving players three distinct characters to learn and master. Nero’s robotic Devil Breaker arms allow him a decent amount of variety, while having a balanced, beginner-friendly combat style for new players. Dante remains the king of variety, having more weapons than ever before combined with his signature style switching, though the game is actually designed with all these options in mind so he doesn’t end up breaking the game like he did in 4. Newcomer V ends up being a breath of fresh air, controlling up to three demonic summons at once, forcing players to really think more strategically. The music is incredible too; Nero’s own theme, Devil Trigger, has been stuck in my head since last year and I don’t see it leaving any time soon. All things considered, Devil May Cry 5 might be the best game in the franchise, and a worthy contender for game of the year personally. Now if only we had a special edition with Vergil and the ladies playable…

#1 - Fire Emblem: Three Houses

I got into the Fire Emblem series with Awakening and really liked it a lot, however Fates, the next installment, left a bad taste in my mouth. I couldn’t really get into Echoes, itself a remake of the second game in the series, and I began to wonder if this franchise was really for me. I was willing to give Three Houses a shot, but I was not prepared for the game to blow past all my expectations. Fire Emblem: Three Houses isn’t just a good game, it’s a game that’s redeemed a franchise that’s stumbled a bit in recent years, and it likely cements Fire Emblem as a core Nintendo franchise for years to come. It has class, depth and real heart...with only minor creepy or pervy elements! Making a grand return to home consoles after more than a decade on handhelds, it goes big and it ultimately paid off, on track to become the best-selling entry in the series. The school setting might seem weird at first, and I wondered how well I’d adjust to it, but being able to instruct your units and influence their growth in battle was worth the learning curve. Things are introduced slowly enough that the flow of the game becomes relatively easy to manage, if a bit time-consuming overall. With four distinct storylines you can explore, TONS of character interactions and some interesting tweaks to the strategic gameplay the series is known for, I’m confident in saying that Three Houses is well-worth a purchase for newcomers to the franchise. Divine Pulse is a great quality-of-life addition that lets you undo mistakes, rather than force you to start over from scratch, and overall the UI and layout of the game gives you enough information to make informed decisions without overwhelming you. Makes me wonder how we survived before the games showed us who enemies would target on their turns before now. Admittedly, some aspects of the progression have some issues, especially at endgame, and visually the game really is not up to par most of the time, but these end up being tiny blemishes in the long run for me. They certainly weren’t bad enough to prevent me from starting a new path the instant I finished my first route. If I have one request…just make Claude a gay option. Give the people what they want, Nintendo!

Honorable Mentions

I’d like to add on some honorable mentions here before we close things out, though most of these are things I didn’t even get a chance to play, but they certainly might have made this list. For one, Resident Evil 2 Remake seems like a high-quality reinterpretation of the survival-horror classic, but I can’t do horror so I’ll likely pass it up. It’s also for that reason that I might not get to Control but I might try jumping out of my comfort zone for that one. The confusion surrounding both The Other Worlds AND The Outer Wilds is funny, but they’re both space-based games I’d be keen on getting to at some point down the line; the former is a great Western RPG by the folks who made the GOOD Fallout games, while the latter is an interesting space-faring puzzler with some interesting mechanics I’d rather not spoil for those not more in-the-know. Indie titles Sayonara Wild Hearts and GRIS definitely caught my attention with their great visuals, and in the case of the former, its soundtrack, even if the gameplay wasn’t quite there for me, and the weird fighting-game-but-kinda-RPG that is Indivisible demands my attention sooner or later. Bloodstained is the Castlevania follow-up I keep forgetting is out, and I hear great things about Yooka-Laylee and the Impossible Lair. The team behind the Yakuza series recently made a spin-off of sorts, Judgment that hit the West this year and while I like the Yakuza series for its quirky tone and fun combat, there’s still six other games I’d have to sift through, so going with Judgment, which is set to possibly begin a new franchise, seems like a good alternative. And how could I forget the likes of Shovel Knight as we finally receive the last expansion that’s been years in the making? I haven’t touched the King of Cards expansion yet, but I have the upmost faith in anything Yacht Club makes, so that’s surely a game of the year contender. 2019 was crazy good! Glad to close the year out with so much quality, and tons of great stuff to add to the ever-growing backlog.

Hope you had some good gaming memories made this year!

-B