#i just really struggled with the store scene

[morlock-holmes]

Towards a Unified Theory of Conspiracy Crank Politics

I've been thinking a lot about what seems to drive the person I will call, for lack of a better term, the conspiracy crank world-view, and particularly, my feelings about the great crank realignment.

A lot of people have said, "It seems like 30 years ago conspiracy weirdos were pretty bipartisan people, but now they all seem to be Trump loyalists."

My belief is that it's not that the conspiracy cranks became more right-wing; rather, it's that the Republicans have largely stopped being a right-wing party and are instead now a conspiracy crank party.

So, I've said this before, and I'm not well enough read in the history of conspiracy thinking to bring up old examples, but as a kid I subscribed to Skeptical Enquirer, and I remember quickly coming to two conclusions:

The reason a lot of the alien conspiracy X Files stuff is so interesting in fiction is that talented fiction writers have used it as a jumping off point to make an interesting story; the primary conspiracy literature is often very poorly written, not very inventive, and frequently openly bigoted, which leads into my second discovery,

A lot of times there is only one degree of seperation between "Big pharma and modern living has severed our spiritual connection to our earth mother Gaia" and "The Jews run the world with the aim of keeping the white race enslaved". Like, the far right conspiracy people were often really willing to ally with and break bread with the far left conspiracy people, and vice versa, in fact much more so then the more grounded parts of the left and right.

And I think that's because the conspiracy theorists have a kind of common mindset with certain shared features, regardless of the specifics of their conspiracy.

These are things that I have noticed as commonalities, and they aren't limited to conspiracy cranks; in fact, probably the vast majority of people have these habits of thought to some extent. My argument is that they are often abnormally strong in conspiracy believers.

Belief in a just world. A lot of fringe types have a really strong belief that the world is fundamentally just, and that in the ordinary course of things bad things do not happen to good people. Bad things only happen because a personified force arranged for the bad thing to happen. The example I've used before is slipping and falling off a ladder. Many of us would attribute such a thing to pure chance; some people will take it as evidence that a witch or a demon has cursed them.

An extreme difficulty with feeling out of control. It is hard for them to accept that in some circumstances they may not have control. Things which make them feel like they are no longer in control are very often interpreted as hostilities against them.

A severe difficulty in actually putting themselves in another person's shoes. Often, the conspiracy minded person is incredibly judgemental about others, and particularly, they really, really struggle with the idea that something might be easy for them, but difficult for someone else, or difficult for them, but necessary to help someone else.

Like I said, we all have these habits to some extent, I just think they are often magnified in the conspiracy crank.

As an example of what I mean by these thought patters, I am in the middle of a podcast reviewing a crank movie about how germs don't cause diseases. And apparently, in this movie, they first have a heroic interview with a restaurant owner who not only never required his patrons to wear masks, he actually banned any mask wearing on the premises.

Which is followed immediately by a scene of a person getting kicked out of a store for not masking, and talking about how it's incredibly shocking that what should be a matter of personal conscience is being enforced by the government.

And there's just no sense that there is any hypocrisy or tension here.

What I mean is, a principled libertarian might say, "Each individual business can require masks, or require you to take masks off, or have no policy, according to their individual decision, and we should allow them to make those decisions and abide by them."

Another principled position might be that we have extremely compelling evidence for the pandemic, and maybe certain kinds of policies should be temporarily enacted to slow the spread, even though they infringe on what would be, in ordinary times, important liberties, because they serve to protect the collective greater good.

Either of these positions sort of takes it for granted that a choice that I, personally, might not fully agree with might still be important to other people.

But the crank mindset says, "I don't want to wear a mask. So forcing people to wear a mask is an imposition on important freedoms. But since I'm already comfortable without a mask, forcing people to take their masks off isn't any kind of imposition on anybody's freedom, that's ridiculous."

You can see what I'm talking about most clearly in certain right-wing Christians. I've seen Christians say that freedom is exactly the same as following God's will, and that disobedience to God is a form of bondage and slavery.

These habits of mind are not, themselves, partisan; the can be applied to any cause, right-wing or left-wing. I might just have easily brought up "Free speech doesn't mean tolerating hate speech."

But I would argue that the reverse is not true, that you can build a political party that caters primarily to people with these habits of mind.

These people tend to flock to politicians who simultaneously promise a strong government which they can borrow to reassert their sense of control in the world, but the actual specific politics of that government are squishy and malleable.

The government has to be strong and able to domineer others because the conspiracy crank understands that they are in opposition to some large portion of the population, and so the government has to be strong enough to say, for example, "We will make sure that no private business will kick you out for wearing a mask."

When the world feels out of control, the government will lend you the tools to reassert your control over the world around you.

But the actual political goals of the government have to be extremely vague and malleable, so that they can move quickly to maintain the illusion that good people don't ever really disagree about this stuff.

A government which is coherently committed to a libertarian project might well say, "Sorry, those businesses have every right to decide who they cater to."

You have to be a weathervane, once a majority of cranks decide that vaccines and mask mandates are bad, you have to swivel and take that position in order to maintain a sort of illusion that whatever freedoms your crank audience wants in the moment are inherently sensible and that no sane person could disagree.

My argument is that Trump has turned the Republicans into the crank party, the party that signals to cranks that it will have their backs, whereas thirty years ago, the parties were still committed enough to coherent political goals that neither one could make that promise, and so cranks had to be politically idiosyncratic.

[crybaby-bkg]

just wrote 2.4k of this fic in my notes app who even am I anymore

[kingkonoha]

𝐅𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐋! 𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 gets incredibly pissed off when someone disrespects you in any sort of way.

—

Your husband is typically a calm and chill person; he doesn’t really get upset when someone even dares to disrespect him.

That all changes when it comes to you.

Be it a cashier with an attitude or a curse trying to attack you, Gojo’s protective instincts kick in and it’s absolutely unreal how he can become so scary and predatorial.

When the gum-smacking cashier at your favorite store gave you a total that was double the amount it should have been, Gojo gave the two of you a chance to work it out yourselves.

After all, he knew you could handle yourself. It was others that he worried about.

“Um,” you started politely, giving a soft smile. “I think you might have rung up a few items twice.”

“I didn’t, hun. Been workin’ here for ten years. If I say your total is $75, it’s $75.”

“But I saw you-”

“If you can’t afford it, then just leave, hun,” the cashier rolled her eyes as she interrupted you.

That was when you looked back at Gojo.

A few moments ago, he was grabbing your grocery bags and putting them into your cart, but now, he was standing right in front of the cash register, staring at the cashier with a facial expression that made her skin crawl.

“I’m gonna ask you kindly not to talk to my lady like that,” Gojo warned. “I’d hate to make a scene right now.”

That was all it took for her to fix her mistakes and rescan your entire cart. Gojo glared at her intensely as she did so. She even gave you a few items for free.

Now, when it comes to curses who can’t easily be scared off with a glare, he’ll destroy even the toughest of special grades instantly if they harm you, even if he was struggling during the fight originally.

His baby being in danger just gives him extra strength, truth be told.

Although he wants you to be as safe as possible, he’s not afraid to let you fight by his side. He actually loves it when you can kick a curse’s ass.

But, when a curse user knocked you unconscious in the middle of a fight, and he actually saw a small pool of blood pouring out of your new wounds?

Those striking blue eyes of his widened. He was so pissed off that he smiled, gritting his teeth. Slowly, he approached the curse user as he spoke.

“Did you just hurt my wife? My wife?”

He killed them. Not instantly, though — he wanted to make them suffer a bit.

Call him sick. Evil. Twisted. He doesn’t give a damn.

As he gently scooped up your injured body, he carefully tended to your wounds, even leaving small random kisses across your body as he did so.

He just loved you more than anything.

[grassbreads]

Not thrilled about Vanitas losing his doomed by the narrative character poll, but I've been listening to Woe.Begone for comparison purposes, and at least he lost to a genuinely good competitor.

[okay-j-hannah]

The Kickstart | Smosh 💛

Smosh : Multishot

Spencer Agnew x Reader

Word Count: 10k

Warnings: slow burn, strangers to friends, friends to lovers, Spencer pining, reader is struggling in LA, not a lot of money, multiple jobs, poor studio apartment, inconsiderate boyfriend, lots of musical theatre talk, reader insert but a few things are already decided (last name is Bennett, favorite drink is Diet Coke, love the colors blue and green, artist, theatre nerd, etc.)

Request: This just came from my own head 😊  

A/N: I haven't written for Smosh in years... but the current cast and crew has me sucked back into the fandom. And I am sorely in need of more Spencer content 😭

I was initially inspired by this incredibly well done fic "Late Night" by @simpingsavant Please give it a read because it's a masterpiece.

Part 1: The Kickstart {You Are Here}

Part 2: Mama Bear

It was nearly three in the morning. The witching hour, you think with a smile. There was a light flickering near the fountain drinks. You lean against the checkout counter, thumbing through an aged script.

You memorize the cue lines that signal when quick changes are supposed to happen between scenes. The current musical you are working on is Hairspray.

Going through the script and your production notes really help pass the time.

The small rinky-dink gas station you manage is your reluctant home most nights. It wasn’t your favorite place, but it helped with the bills. Trying to make a living on production design for musicals isn’t the money maker you hoped it would be in LA.

You barely made anything doing hair and makeup for the community theatre. But it was something you loved.

And wouldn’t you rather be doing something you love than being miserable in a high paying corporate job?

Sure, you think.

It had been nearly eight months since you started working at this gas station. The owner was as rinky-dink as the store itself, speaking in short, to the point sentences and avoiding eye contact. There were only two gas pumps out front that rarely attracted customers.

The biggest commodity are the cheap drinks and snacks inside. Many stop by for something quick on their way to and from work.

Normally working the night shifts from 10pm to 6am, you are quick to notice any regulars. Not many people are awake at this time of night, let alone on their way to the gas station for a drink.

The bell sounds above the door as a familiar face enters. It was Glasses.

That’s what you called him after seeing him for the third time in a week, back when you first started working here.

He usually came in late like this, looking exhausted. He has curly dark hair, gold rimmed glasses, and some scruff. Today he’s dressed in jeans rolled up at the cuffs, brown boots, and a gray sweatshirt.

He gives you an awkward, close-lipped smile as he passes. You watch him go for the drink fridges. Energy drinks are his specialty, maybe the occasional coffee or breakfast sandwich. He always bought them two at a time, taking the slight discount for buying a duo instead of a single.

About every other week he’s there three to four of those days. You’ve always wondered why – especially when he always looked so tired when he came in.

But you’ve never had a conversation that’s lasted longer than the cordial exchanges.

“Hello,” you say.

“Hello,” he replies with his awkward smile.

You scan his drinks, Mountain Dew Kickstarts like always. “Find everything you need?”

“Yep.”

The computer beeps. “That’ll be $8.56.”

“All right.” He taps his card on the machine in front of him.

“Would you like your receipt?”

“No thanks.” He grabs his two cans.

“Have a nice night.”

“You too.”

It had been like that for maybe six of those eight months. After that, your curiosity began to plague you. The next time he came in, you watch him browse for a Kickstart and a breakfast muffin.

Saying hello to him had felt routine. But it was clear that you both recognized each other. So you decide to say something a little more than usual.

“Getting breakfast a little early?” you joke in your quiet voice.

He smiles, pulling out his wallet. “I just haven’t eaten anything all night.”

“Sounds like a rough night. That’s $9.34.”

He scans his card. “It has been.”

With him looking down at the keypad, you take the time to look at the circles under his eyes. “You should try the croissant sandwiches. Much better than stale muffins.”

He nods his head, “Next time. Thanks.”

You watch him walk away, still at a loss as to why he’s always in there this late at night.

A couple days later he’s walking in and giving you a wave. You smile at him as he makes for the drinks again.

He’s dressed in those same jeans and combat boots. Now he wears a t-shirt with a denim jacket. If you had friends to talk to, you’d want to tell them how Glasses loves to wear the same jeans and jackets all the time.

He comes to the counter and clears his throat.

You scan his drinks and a breakfast sandwich. A croissant sandwich.

You chuckle, “You won’t be disappointed.”

“I’m counting on it,” he says, tapping his card against his hand while he waits.

“Haven’t eaten anything all night again?”

He hums, shrugging his shoulders, “Felt peckish.”

“Do you want your receipt?”

“No, that’s fine. Have a good night.”

You throw the balled up receipt into the garbage bin beside you. “You too.”

You’d love to tell a friend that Glasses seems shy. He seems nice.

A few weeks later, you’re drawing sketches for costume designs. You were doing Shrek The Musical at the community theatre. Papers were full of drawings depicting a white rabbit, a wicked witch, a wolf in granny clothes, and fairies with colorful makeup.

You were humming one of the songs when Glasses came in with a yawn. His eyes search for you and he waves, “Good evening.”

“Good night,” you say sarcastically.

He grabs his drinks and comes to the counter with wandering eyes. You try to move your sketches and pencils out of the way.

“Sorry,” you say, “That’ll be $8.56.”

He scans his card, but keeps looking at your art. “You draw those?”

“Yeah,” you say, abashedly. “Little project.”

“They’re really good,” he pops open one of the drinks and takes a sip. “Are they just for fun, or…?”

You shyly pull out a drawing of a person in a dragon scale costume. “They’re for the musical I’m a part of. Down at the local theatre.”

“That’s cool,” his face lights up.

Something warm tickles your stomach. You were actually having a normal conversation with Glasses.

“Are you the costume designer?”

“Assistant,” you bow your head. “I’m head of hair and makeup.”

He nods, clearly interested. “Have you been a part of production teams much?”

“For years,” you smile, “I love theatre. I’ve done almost everything. Acting, costumes, set design, lighting – you name it.”

He pockets the other energy drink in his jacket pocket. “Sounds like fun. Have a nice rest of your night.”

“Thank you, you too.”

If you had friends, maybe you’d tell them that Glasses might become a friend. The only person you have to text is your new boyfriend Aaron. But he wasn’t a fan of nonsense texts – texts that were unnecessary.

A few weeks go by, now seven months into your job at the gas station. Glasses was still making his almost daily visits. You caught him standing outside the window for a minute before coming in.

You have confusion in your face, but a smile on your lips. “You okay there?”

He raises his eyebrows and talks as he walks to the fridges. “What do you mean?”

“Was there something on that window or were you just making sure you weren’t a vampire?” At his knitted brows, you continue, “You know… checking that you still had a reflection.”

Heat floods your face at the poor attempt at a joke, but Glasses laughs, nonetheless. “I might be nocturnal, but no, I’m not a vampire.”

You smile, admiring him walking towards you. His fluffy curls were sticking out from beneath a green hat. In white embroidery it says, Smosh.

“How were auditions?” he asks, getting his card ready.

You bite the inside of your cheek. “Good. I think we’ll have a good cast.” Earlier that week he asked about the latest Hairspray script that was on your counter. “The quick changes will be fun.”

He clears his throat, having paid but still standing at the register.

“I’m sorry, did you want your receipt?” you ask suddenly. “Normally you don’t so I stopped asking.”

“No, no – sorry. I’ve been trying to find some clever segway to introduce myself. But we’ve been seeing each other for months and it feels strange to do it now.” He rubs his forehead, struggling to maintain eye contact with you while he talks. “I mean, it’s not like I have a nametag like you.”

You look down at your chest to see (Y/N) printed on the laminated tag. “That’s true.”

He takes a deep breath and extends his hand. “I’m Spencer.”

You take his hand. It was very warm. “(Y/N).”

He smiles, “Nice to officially meet you.”

Maybe you’ll tell Aaron that Glasses has a new name now. Spencer.

One night at two in the morning, you were asked to do inventory while another employee managed the registers. It was strange to have a coworker with you on night shifts, but when things need to be restocked, it took a team.

You use a box cutter to break through packages, pulling out chip bags and candies. You roll them out on a dolly. Plastic wrappers crinkling as you restock shelves, you don’t notice who Eric at the counter is talking to.

But then a pair of glasses peek around the corner. “Hey!”

You smile wide, “Spencer!”

He smiles back, “I was worried when I didn’t see you at the registers.”

“Yeah, they need two of us here when we do inventory,” you shake a bag of doritos before putting it on the shelf. “How was your day?”

He sighs, opening his drink, “Long. Shooting weeks always are.” He tells you about the online comedy group he’s a part of. It was called Smosh.

“Oh, you’ve worn some merch that has that logo on it,” you say, moving a box out of the way.

Spencer nods, “Gotta promote whenever we can.”

“How large is the group?”

“Well, it’s more of an entertainment company. We have a huge production team and a cast. We film content for four different channels.”

“That’s impressive.”

He suddenly dips down to help hand you boxes of candy. “I guess. I think most of LA are internet personalities in one way or another.”

“I’m not,” you say quietly. “It is impressive.”

You learn about his directorial position on one of the channels. Being a head producer, he has a lot of sway on that content. You commend him on the responsibility, and he seems pleased, if not a little embarrassed.

He excuses himself not long after that.

You head towards the registers to restock the candy on the counters. Eric is there giving you a telling smile.

“What are you looking at?” you ask.

The middle-aged man scoffs, “That guy came in with the biggest smile on his face, but then he realized I was the one standing at the counter and he looked so disappointed.”

“I’m sure he was just in need of an energy drink.”

Eric shakes his head, “It wasn’t me that he wanted to see.”

Now in the present, you stand at the counter while Spencer leans against the other side. You had just revealed the fact that you have a boyfriend.

“H-How long have you been together?” he asks with much more nervousness than before.

You scrunch your nose in thought, “About two months. It’s been great though. He gives me rides to work and everything.”

“You don’t have a car?” Spencer asks, paying for his snacks.

You throw the receipt away, “No. I was taking the bus before I met him.” Noticing the awkwardness enter Spencer’s face, you say, “Rough I know. But I manage.”

“It’s nice of him.”

“Yeah, especially because I don’t really make enough to get a car right now.”

“Isn’t that why you have this job on top of the musical theatre stuff?” he offers you a package of your favorite candy.

It makes you smile, “Sure. But rent isn’t helping with my savings. Living paycheck to paycheck.”

“Does Aaron drive you to theatre too?”

Your gaze falls from Spencer’s, eating a piece of candy to give you some time before answering. “No, he’s not a big fan of musicals.”

Spencer scrunches his brow. Unsure of what was stepping over the line with this new friend of his, he tiptoes. “He won’t drive you because he doesn’t like theatre?”

“It’s kind of inconvenient asking him to come get me late after rehearsals. I shouldn’t ask for so much, he’ll think I’m dating him just to have a cab driver.” You snicker at your joke, but Spencer doesn’t seem to think it’s very funny.

He drinks from his can when another customer enters the store. That always meant he would excuse himself so you could get back to your job.

You start to expect Spencer each week. You wait for when you know a filming week was at Smosh. During that time, Spencer would visit for his necessary caffeine. He always stops to talk to you for a few minutes before leaving.

You always feel bad since he normally came in exhausted from work. He denies himself sleep just to spend a few more minutes with you.

It takes a couple more weeks, but he starts to stay even when more customers come in. He just steps to the side and waits for you to ring the customer up.

Then he comes back to continue your conversation.

“So do you prefer acting or production?”

You share the snacks that he’s purchased. “Production, for sure. I kind of developed stage fright a couple years ago. But I do miss being on stage sometimes.”

He looks at you while you talk. He’s an active listener. He zeros in on your face while you speak, ensuring he doesn’t miss anything.

But when he speaks, he tends to look elsewhere. “Did something happen?”

You shrug, “I just get nervous being in the spotlight now. I don’t like the attention much.”

“I get that. I haven’t always loved being on camera. It’s taken finding the right company to do it.”

You nod, “That sounds nice. To be so comfortable in the workplace. And to have everyone there as friends.”

He agrees, “Though a lot of them like to crack jokes about not seeing each other outside of work.” He chuckles as he remembers something. “It’s great being a part of a company where the goal is comedy content. You get to have fun with your friends every day.”

“And you’ve been there for so long,” you say, “You’ve definitely earned your place.”

“Thank you,” he feels warm around the collar, “It’s been hard at times, but well worth it now.”

You suddenly feel a warmth in your cheeks. “You know, um… my show opens next week. If – If you’re interested in seeing it. I’ll be there every night.”

“Helping Edna quick change into her fancy 60s outfit,” he smiles kindly. His eyes are soft and considerate as he watches your nervous gesture. “I wouldn’t miss it.”

You brighten, “Great!”

A week later you’re in the wings of the stage, sweaty with the heat the spotlights generate. A headset adorns your head, microphone near your mouth. You’re readjusting a costume onto a rack from the last quick change.

The last number of the show was currently playing: You Can’t Stop the Beat. You whisper the lyrics and subtly follow along with the choreography.

It was safe to do so with the curtains hiding you from the audience.

You listen to the applause as the cast bows. You imagine them gesturing to the tech booth, acknowledging the production team behind the scenes. You give a little imaginary bow to the audience.

Waiting in the dressing rooms, you help organize the costumes and clean up the makeup counters. Cast members thank you for your help, carrying massive bouquets and presents from the crowd.

You compliment the flowers and give your praise to their performances. It’s forty minutes later, having put the makeup and hairspray away, preening the wigs, and spraying down the character shoes, that you find your purse and head towards the front doors.

Outside on the sidewalk you’re met with an unexpected surprise.

Spencer.

He stands under the white lights of the theatre logo. He adorns his usual rolled up jeans and band t-shirt, denim jacket over it. His curls look extra defined tonight and in his hand are three colorful carnation flowers.

“Spencer? What are you…? I didn’t know you were coming tonight!” You walk towards him and for the first time since meeting him – you hug him.

Arms around his shoulders, smelling his clean, fresh scent. He seems timid to hug you back.

“Well… I did say I would come see the show.”

You shake your head. “I would have come out sooner if I knew you’d be here. I’m so sorry to keep you so long.”

“It’s no problem,” he offers the flowers. “Worth the wait.”

You give a smile, but your face is still regretful, “You shouldn’t have. I wasn’t even on stage.”

“Of course you were,” he says, “Your costumes and wigs and makeup were there.”

You hold the few flowers, completely endeared by him. “Thank you. This is really kind of you. You didn’t have to.”

He shrugs, shoving his empty hands into his pockets. “It’s kind of weird seeing you out of uniform. I’ve never seen you out of that polo and black pants.”

“Well, stage crew attire isn’t much different,” you laugh, gesturing to the long sleeve black shirt and leggings. “What did you think of the show?”

“It was excellent,” he says, “It’s such a fun show. I bet you loved teasing those wigs and picking out costumes with those crazy patterns.”

“And the quick changes?”

“I counted like 38 seconds,” he laughs, “That’s super impressive.”

You smile warmly, though the night air had a chill to it. “Thank you for coming, Spencer. It means a lot.”

“Of course,” he steps away, “I’ll see you later.”

You start to walk down the sidewalk, opposite the parking lot. Spencer suddenly has a thought. He runs up to you.

“Wait, how are you getting home?”

“Oh, I walk to the bus stop and take that.”

He looks down at your crossed arms trying to keep you warm. “Aaron really won’t come get you?”

“I don’t want to inconvenience him.” You wave away the look of worry in his face. “I do this every night, it’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Yeah, but… you shouldn’t have to.”

“Have a good night, Spence.”

You’ve never used a nickname with him before. He huffs a little before following your retreating figure, “Then let me give you a ride.”

You keep walking, “Really, Spence – I’ll be okay.”

“I know,” he says, “But let me help. I want to give you a ride. It’s cold.”

Your fingers feel like ice against your arms. You look in the direction of the bus stop before looking at the pleading in Spencer’s face.

“Okay,” you say quietly. “Thank you.”

Relief floods his expression, “Great, this way.”

He guides you to his car and even opens the passenger door for you. It’s a kind gesture that you aren’t used to. He turns on the heater and your seat warmer before exiting the parking lot.

You direct him to your poor excuse of a studio apartment. The pair of you speak pleasantries the entire way. The lighting design of the musical, the strategic sets that move quickly, the realistic prop hairspray, and things like that.

He didn’t notice how you cower in the seat. He thinks it’s just because you’re still cold.

“Is the gas station good about changing your schedule so you can be there on show nights?”

“Yes, they’re so kind about it,” you say, playing with your fingers. It was a nervous habit of yours – pinching, rubbing, and picking at them. “I switch with a usual day shifter.”

Spencer nods, “I – I’ve missed seeing you at our usual time.”

“Our usual time?” you laugh, like your gas station hangouts were scheduled playdates.

He smiles, embarrassed, “Yeah, I mean… your customer service is so excellent. How am I supposed to get a Kickstart when you’re not there?”

“You know there are dozens of other gas stations and convenience stores around here.”

“Yeah, but they don’t have you.”

Something beats loudly in your chest. It sends a waterfall of warm, fizzing fireworks into your stomach.

Your apartment building is in a scary part of LA – but it’s what you can afford. Aaron was hinting at moving in together just for the ease of splitting the rent. It did sound appealing when you could actually save a little for a car.

“Thanks again for the ride,” you say, unbuckling your seatbelt.

He looks nervous again, “Anytime. And… maybe we could exchange numbers – in case you need another ride from the theatre?”

You look at him warmly, “I’m not going to ask you to come grab me when you could be in a filming week.”

He shrugs his shoulders, “I would still come.”

With a small smile, you take out your phone and open a new contact. In the name slot you put ‘Glasses.’ Spencer switches your phones and puts his number in.

You smile wider as you put your name in the contact and put a little theatre emoji after it.

“Glasses?” he asks, handing you back your phone.

“Yeah, that’s…” you brush warm fingers with him as you accept your phone. “That’s what I called you when I noticed you as a regular at the gas station. I didn’t know your name, so I gave you one in my head.”

He seems overly please about that. He has to look away from you and smile. “That’s funny, I like it. What would you do if you saw me without glasses? It would be a whole new identify to you.”

“Very Clark Kent of you,” you laugh.

He suddenly removes his gold rimmed glasses and looks at you all serious. “You’re right, during the day I’m fighting crime with the Justice League and at night I refuel at the gas station.”

“Superman refuels with energy drinks?” you laugh, causally reaching over to snatch his glasses. “I don’t know if Krypton would approve.”

“No, no – Kryptonians thrive off extra energy. Sun energy and now caffeine energy.”

His eyes are a dark green-gray color. Maybe that’s just because it’s dark outside. But you can’t decide what color they actually are. They’re definitely not brown.

You raise the glasses to your eyes and look at him. “I didn’t realize Superman was so blind.”

“It’s not that bad,” Spencer laughs, looking at you fondly.

You return the glasses, “Drive safe. Thanks again for the ride. Text me when you get home safely.”

He waves you off, waiting until you’re able to unlock your door before driving away.

Inside your apartment, you look at the chipped walls and cracked ceiling. The musty, uncomfortable couch in front of the small tv atop a table you got free off a lawn. To the right is the tiny kitchen with only one counter and no dining table.

Rummaging through a cabinet, you find a tall plastic cup to put your carnation flowers into.

The bathroom is straight ahead, where you go into to get ready for bed.

The porcelain of the tub and sink have rust stains around the handles. The tile of the floor is broken in places and the dim light above is giving off an ugly yellow glow.

You open the mirror cabinet to grab what you need to brush your teeth. Brand names are all obscure as you did get the supplies from a dollar store down the street.

If you had a little more money, you would buy a face wash and face towels. But the essentials were good enough.

You cross the hall to get to your bed. Being a studio apartment, there isn’t a separate room for your bed. It lies on the floor behind the tv stand and in front of the only window in the whole place.

The queen mattress was the one thing you spent a little more money on. It doesn’t have a headboard or support to keep it off the ground, but it was comfortable and had nice periwinkle blue sheets.

You change into sage green pajamas with little daisies on them, climbing into your bed and fumbling for the phone charger next to the mattress.

As you plug your phone in, a text message comes in from Glasses.

“Just got home. You did amazing tonight! See you later this week.”

You heart his message and give him a thank you in reply.

~~~

The end of the week is approaching and you’re at the theatre again. Headset on, you hang in the tech booth, grabbing a few more safety pins, mic tape, and alcohol wipes.

The oversized fanny pack you love to wear across your chest is open and full of supplies. You stuff the microphone items inside, watching the stage from the view of the booth.

Tracy was beginning the song Welcome to the 60s. You turn on the microphone by your mouth.

“Head to the wings for quick change pretty please.”

A muffled reply comes through the headset, “On the way, (Y/N).”

You leave the tech booth and walk out of the audience room to the side entrance of the wings. Waiting on stage right, you hold Edna’s new dress for the song. Two stage crew members help by holding accessories and waiting to take off Edna’s current costume.

“Go mama, go, go go!”

Edna comes running off to stage right, tossing their purse to the stage crew member. They wiggle out of their simple purple plaid dress and step right into the sparkly pink dress you have waiting open on the floor.

You pull up the fabric as you hear the lyrics continue on stage.

“Don’t let nobody try to steal your fun, ‘cause a little touch of lipstick never hurt no one.

The future’s got a million roads for you to choose, but you’ll walk a little taller in some high-heeled shoes.”

You zip up the dress and readjust the mic pack on the suit strap beneath. Stage crew throws a new necklace on and a sparkle to the lip makeup. The other stage crew snugs a fuller wig onto the actor, starting to pin it down onto the wig cap. You hand a feather boa to the actor and help pin the new wig in.

“Come on out, hear us shout. Mama, that’s your cue!”

Just in time, you think, sending the actor back onto stage. It always felt like a close call, but the audience shouting their surprise and praise always felt like a reward.

You smile at the stage crew members and wave them off to help with set pieces. You then take the old purple plaid costume to the rack to keep it from wrinkling on the floor.

While in the dressing rooms you meet the actress playing Penny Pingleton, “Hey, sis – I noticed your mic tape not sitting so good on your cheek.”

She smiles worriedly, the action making the mic tape unstick from her face and the microphone dangle from her ear. “Just a little.”

You pull out an alcohol wipe and roll of tape from your pack. “There might just be too much makeup in the way.” You wipe the spot where the microphone sits on her cheek, fanning your hand to make the alcohol dry.

Cutting two pieces of tape, you line the microphone and stick it in place. The actress keeps her face straight, letting it adhere.

“Thanks, (Y/N).”

“Anytime.” You leave the dressing room to find the man playing Seaweed. His mic belt kept twisting beneath his costume.

You track him down and use safety pins to secure the mic belt to his undershirt. Now as he dances and changes, the mic pack will stay in place. He shares his gratitude and runs off to the next scene.

The rest of the show goes without a hitch. The audience claps during the bows, and you give your imaginary bow to the curtains.

You begin to clean the dressing rooms when you get a text. From Glasses.

“Hey, I’m at the entrance by the concessions when you’re done in the back.”

A smile creeps onto your face. He saw the show a second time? You text back, “I’ll be there in five minutes.”

You’re quick to clean up and organize the costumes before heading out. The front was still packed with audience members trying to talk and take pictures with the cast members. You push your way towards the concessions table to see Spencer there.

He was wearing a black Creed t-shirt, arms full of silly tattoos on total display. Instead of holding flowers, he’s holding a Diet Coke from the concessions. You grin, falling out of the crowd and into him for a hug.

He catches you and hugs you back. You feel the cold soda against your shirt.

“I can’t believe you came again!” You pull away, eyes shining. You’ve never had someone to meet outside the theatre after a show before.

He extends the drink he got for you. “I told you it was an excellent show. And I wanted to bring a friend to see it too.”

A woman stands beside him, “And he misses seeing you at the gas station every day.”

You miss how Spencer nudges the woman with his elbow. You were too busy recognizing her face.

“Oh my god – oh my fucking god,” you accidentally shake the soda as you wave your hands. “You’re Angela Giarratana!”

Her brown eyes widen ridiculously, “Um… yeah, I am.”

“You were on Nerdy Prudes Must Die!”

A smile replaces the surprise on her face, “Oh, yes! I was in that show last year. You really scared me there for a second.”

Spencer licks his lips, watching the excitement on your face. “I wondered if you’d seen anything from StarKid.”

“Well, I’m a theatre kid, aren’t I?” you say, “I literally have a Hatchetfield Nighthawks letterman jacket. It’s so nice to meet you, Angela. I’m (Y/N).” You lean into a hug and Angela returns it kindly.

“I know, Spencer’s talked about you.” She steps away and compliments the show, “You did a great job with the costume design. Spencer and I were timing the quick changes.”

“I am very proud of those,” you say excitedly. “I’m sorry, I can’t stop smiling. Thank you for coming to our show. How do you know Spencer?”

Angela smacks Spencer’s arm, “We work together. He’s more behind the scenes and I’m more on camera.”

“At Smosh? That’s awesome!”

“Yeah, it’s all right,” she says, looking to Spencer and then laughing. “I gotta be careful or Spencer won’t put me in any of the videos on Games.”

You open your soda, drinking it like you were parched all night. “Are you working on any more theatre projects?”

“Eh, not at the moment,” Angela says, folding her arms. “I’m spending most of my time on Smosh sets.” She eyes you for a second before saying, “Do you have a portfolio by chance?”

“A portfolio?” you ask, wiping your lip of soda. “Of what?”

Angela rubs at her chin, “Sketches of your costume designs or makeup aesthetics. Maybe a performing arts resume. Pictures of your work on stage.”

“Um…” you pull awkwardly on the edge of your shirt. “No, not formally. But I could pull something together.”

“That’d be great. I’d love to see more of your work.”

Spencer looks incredibly pleased with himself, biting on his lips. “Would you let me give you a ride home?”

Your eyes are still shining, flitting your gaze between the two friends. “Um… yeah – that’d be great.”

All of you walk outside the theatre and towards the parking lot. Spencer is quick to open the passenger door for you and you give an awkward thank you.

Angela rolls her eyes and climbs into the back. “He’s such a doofus.” You watch Spencer walk around the hood of the car to get into the drivers side.

“A what?” you laugh.

“Just watch him – you’ll notice sooner or later.”

He climbs in and uses the seatbelt, “Watch who?”

You clear your throat, “Joey Richter. He’s another actor on StarKid Productions. He’s super talented.”

Angela snickers in the back. “What was the first thing you watched on StarKid?”

“A Very Potter Musical,” you laugh, “Way back in the day.”

“Classic,” Angela says, folding her arms and slumping into the seat. “What brought you to LA?”

You play with your fingers. “I wanted to move out of my home state. And I wanted to get more into the arts. But it’s been hard to find stable work.”

“You’re telling me. That’s the life of an actor – just jumping from one gig to another.”

“It would be the dream,” you sigh, “To do this full time. I just wish I had a little more security with it. A stable income. Not to be afraid with how I’ll afford food every month.” You awkwardly laugh as you realize you might’ve said too much. “But I’m doing all right.”

Angela agrees, “It’s hard to do well in the arts.”

“Hard to be recognized,” Spencer says. “(Y/N) already does well in the arts.”

You smile, your cheeks warm. “When is your next filming week?”

“Next week,” Angela sighs, yawning big. “Which reminds me – I gotta pick up that new pair of glasses for the office.”

“Angela is super blind and never wears her glasses during shoots,” Spencer explains. “Especially on the games channel. She’s always squinting super bad at the tv whenever we’re playing a game.”

“And I’ve been doing just fine!” Angela says loudly, “I’ve been training my eyes to see that far.”

Spencer scoffs, “Yeah, and the compilations of you squinting are growing at an exponential rate because of it.”

“Shut up!” Angela yells.

You laugh at their antics. “Are you allowed to yell at your boss like that?”

Spencer looks in the rearview mirror, “Yeah, Angela. As your superior you need to treat me with a high level of respect. I expect a full written apology and a certain amount of groveling before you’re allowed back on the Games set.” His tone was serious, but by the wide comical look in his eye, you know he’s using hyperbole as a joke.

“The heads of Smosh are actually Ian and Anthony, so don’t you even pull that superiority card!”

You keep giggling at this funnier, more outspoken Spencer. Proof that he was very comfortable with this coworker and their workplace.

It sounds nice.

~~~

Angela sits in the passenger seat now, slumped into the door and leaning her forehead against the window.

“She’s really nice.”

“Yeah,” Spencer says quietly, thoughts still lingering on you.

Angela looks over at him and smirks. “You like her so fucking much. I knew you did when you wouldn’t shut up about her at the office, but damn – seeing you with her was nearly painful.”

“What are you talking about? I’m so subtle about it.”

“So you don’t deny it!” she sits up stick straight, so fast that the seatbelt locks into place and stops her from moving anymore.

Spencer flounders, “I – what – no, that’s not what I said!”

“You totally did you little fucker! You like her so much it hurts. You like her so much your cheeks are going to burst into flames. You like her so much you can’t get a full sentence out.”

“Angela, shut the fuck up – you don’t know what you’re talking about!”

She bounces in her seat, “I’m so subtle about it. I can’t believe you. You’ve been talking about this girl for almost a year. Of course you have a crush on her!”

“Angela, I swear to god, don’t ruin this for me.”

“How would I ruin this? I want my little Spencey to have true love. You have to ask her out.”

“Yeah, genius – you’re forgetting about a teensy little detail. She has a fucking boyfriend.”

Angela freezes, sitting back. “Right.” She bites her lip, “Should have made your shot earlier.”

“And risk looking like a creep asking a girl out at a gas station? No thank you.”

“Is you considering her for the production team on Smosh an elaborate way to play the long game with her?”

“No!” Spencer grips the steering wheel, sounding like a bickering sibling. “She has real talent, and I think she deserves the position.”

Angela holds up her hands, “All right, okay.” She side eyes him with raised brows, “… but you wouldn’t be upset if she suddenly became available and you could ask her out?”

He refuses to meet Angela’s eyes. “I’m not giving you the satisfaction by answering that question.”

“You basically just answered it,” she folds her arms, “You know… I can’t promise I can keep this from Amanda. Or Shayne.”

Spencer puts his elbow against the window and holds his temple.

“Or Chanse.”

“I figured.”

Angela gave him a sympathetic smile. “For what it’s worth – I think she has a real shot. We should get her portfolio to Ian and Anthony asap.”

~~~

You’re cleaning the counters at the gas station. It’s nearing the end of your shift, almost 6am. And Spencer hadn’t visited you like he usually did. It was actually making you worried.

You had spent the last few days collecting every piece of art and experience you had to compile a portfolio. It didn’t feel like a very thick folder, but it had every ounce of hard work from the last few years.

It sits within a blue cover under the registers, waiting for Spencer to come.

“Hey!” there he comes through the door. “I’m so sorry, we had an overnight shoot, and I forgot to tell you.”

You look confused, “Spence, you didn’t have any obligation to be here. We didn’t make any plans.”

“I know, but I usually…” he looks flustered and upset. “You know, you’re right. I’m sorry.”

You smile kindly, “It’s okay. I’m not angry.”

He runs a hand through his curly hair, his eyes considering you as you clean. “This early in the morning, we both look exhausted now.”

“Aw, we have matching dark circles under our eyes!” You go under the counter to grab the blue folder. “Here’s that portfolio Angela was asking about. I wasn’t sure how to get it to her, so maybe you could take it to work?”

“Um… yeah, for sure. Thanks.”

The bell above the door rings, signaling the appearance of a new customer. Usually at this point in the mornings, customers would come in for their sustenance before work. You’re focused on Spencer, unaware of the person walking towards you.

“(Y/N), let’s go.”

You turn your eyes around and see Aaron beelining for your counter.

“Oh, hey,” you say quietly, “You’re twenty minutes early.”

“And?”

This man was over six foot, broad shouldered, and unkempt. His eyes are lazy and hard pressed, his jaw tense as you contradict him.

You wring your hands, “I’m not allowed to leave until six.”

“Well, I’m here now. Let’s go.”

“That’s…” you suck in a breath. He smells like stale beer. “Let me clock out and tell my boss.” You round the counter and are quick to enter the back rooms.

Spencer stays where he is, holding the blue portfolio, and looking at Aaron with an air of disdain. It was not the first impression he was expecting when picturing your boyfriend.

“You waiting to buy something?” Aaron asks, frowning at the way Spencer’s looking at him.

“No, I was just…” he swallows. “I was just talking with (Y/N).”

Aaron squints his eyes, hands moving to his hips. “And you know her because?”

“Because we’re friends.”

“(Y/N) doesn’t have any friends.”

“Untrue, because I’m standing right here.”

Aaron flexes his jaw, “She hasn’t mentioned you before.”

“Yes, I have,” you reappear without your nametag and your purse now around your shoulder. “I’ve talked about him a couple times.” You stand beside Spencer and instantly feel the tension.

Aaron extends his hand like he wants to take yours. “If you did talk about him, I would have remembered. We’re leaving.”

You go to hold his hand, but he moves his to grab your arm, pulling you towards the door. You turn your head to mouth, “Sorry,” towards Spencer.

Spencer waves at you, his face placid and upset. He watches out the windows to see Aaron let you go on the sidewalk to get into the car yourself. He slams the car shut, neglecting his seatbelt, and squealing out of the parking lot.

Still upset, Spencer gets into his car and contemplates his next move. His instincts told him that you weren’t completely safe. He wonders if you and Aaron have moved in together yet – he was trying to pull the ‘cheaper rent’ card on that account.

It was blatantly clear that Aaron was gaslighting you. Within three minutes, he was pegged as an asshole.

Spencer pulls out his phone and sends you a text. “Nice seeing you today, hope you get some good sleep.”

He rubs hard at his face before driving off. He plans to show your portfolio to Ian and Anthony tomorrow.

~~~

You’re sitting on the couch, playing on your PlayStation, when someone knocks on the door. Enjoying the day off, you wonder what door-to-door salesman is at your house.

You open the door and a giant smile envelopes your face, “Spencer! You didn’t tell me you were going to visit.”

He take a breath, “Um… yeah, I wanted to ask you something and I couldn’t wait until you were on shift.”

You lean against the doorframe, biting your lip. “Well, I would invite you inside, but I have to warn you… it’s not very nice.”

“I don’t care,” he says matter-of-factly. “I just want to talk.”

“All right,” you say shyly, opening the door wide. You watch his reaction, already feeling embarrassment brewing in your stomach.

Spencer looks around for a second, taking in the minimal furniture and all around lackluster state of the structure. He zeros in on the old tv displaying your video game.

“Are you playing Red Dead Redemption 2?”

“Uh… yeah,” you say quietly, holding yourself and you walk into the living room. “It’s one of my favorites.”

Spencer smiles, finding it amazing to learn something new about you that he loves. “Nice horse.”

You laugh, sitting on the couch and grabbing your controller. Your cowboy character was riding a white horse in the middle of a river. “It’s the White Arabian you have to tame by Lake Isabella.”

“Is that… like the best horse or something?” Spencer comes to sit beside you, sinking into the musty couch.

“It’s the only elite Arabian horse that you can find in the wild.”

Spencer leans against the couch arm, resting his face in one hand. “I didn’t realize you were a gamer.”

“The more you know me, the more of a nerd I become.”

“Nothing wrong with that, you big nerd.”

You giggle, “What did you want to talk about?’

Spencer clears his throat. “I uh… I took your portfolio to work.”

“What did Angela think?”

“She thought it was all great. But um… a few others got a look at it too.” He shifts uncomfortably on the couch. “There’s this job opening on the production team, specifically on the Smosh main channel. But they would help with all the channels.”

You pause the game again and really look at him. “What is the position?”

“An assistant art coordinator. They help the art directors with creating sets, costumes, and character looks.”

“And what are the responsibilities?”

“They’re looking for someone to manage hair and makeup for Smosh skits and any character work on other channels. Most of the cast do it themselves, but we do need someone who specializes in prosthetics makeup. And you seem to have done that a lot in theatre. We also need someone to manage costume work – the upkeep of them.”

You swallow hard, arms slowly moving to hold yourself. “Do you know what the salary is?”

“I think it’s around 50k-60k. You’ll make between $24 - $28 an hour.”

You bite your cheek. “That’s great.” You look at your surroundings. This new job would be paying you over $10 more than you’re getting now. “Are you saying Smosh is interested in interviewing me for assistant art coordinator?”

Spencer nods his head. “That is basically what I’m saying.”

“Did you show your bosses my portfolio on purpose?” You lower your eyes but look at him through your lashes.

He takes a deep breath, stretching out on the couch. “Maybe. Maybe I thought you deserved a chance.” He looks at you seriously, “I think you’ve got some real talent, (Y/N). You should go for an interview.”

“I… I don’t know what to say.”

“Say you’ll do it.”

You look at him, “I’m suddenly super nervous.” A laugh escapes you, “I… I have to talk to Aaron about it.”

“Okay,” Spencer says with an edge. He tries to be respectful. “Have you two…”

“We’ve moved in together,” you say softly. “To make bills a little easier. And… and as a trial run, I guess. I’ll be able to save up for a car now.”

Spencer has a finger on the corner of his mouth. “Do you think you could make an interview this Thursday?”

You think for a second, “I’m sure Aaron would be okay with that. I’ll just talk to him about it tonight.”

He doesn’t seem happy about that statement. But instead of saying something he might regret, he points to the PlayStation. “Have you completed this game before?”

“Oh, yeah – maybe three times,” you pick up the controller again. “This time I’m trying to complete all of the side quests before finishing the main story.”

“You should be wearing a cowboy hat while playing.”

“That would be awesome,” you laugh. You look at him with sincerity, “Thank you for looking out for me, Spence. I appreciate the chance.”

He gives a close-lipped smile. “Always.”

~~~

You step off the bus and begin to walk down the street. Using your phone, you follow the directions that Spencer gave you.

The Smosh office was right around the corner.

You enter the building, pulling on the only pair of dress pants you own. You readjust the simple blouse to show off the single diamond necklace you wear around your neck. You hope it gives you a professional first impression.

The main entrance of the building shows a little receptionist desk and plush chairs to wait in. You advance the desk while noticing behind it are many tables and folding chairs – probably for lunches.

“Hello, how are you?” a nice lady at the desk says.

You wave shakily, “I’m good. I’m here for an interview with Mr. Hecox and Mr. Padilla.”

She seems to find you saying their surnames comical judging by the little smile on her face. But she gestures to the plush armchairs behind you. “Sure, just wait there and I’ll call them.”

You turn around and notice that behind the chairs is a large window showing a large kitchen. The lunch tables and folding chairs makes more sense.

“Thank you,” you say, looking down at the name plate, “Selina.” You sit down and holding your famously large fanny pack in your lap. It gives you something to hold with your fidgeting hands.

Now sitting, you can see the wide windows behind Selina’s desk. There’s a long conference table in there with a television and speakers on a stand. There’s a phone speaker in the middle of the table for any people that are being called in remotely.

Behind the conference table is a little sitting area with a couch and armchair. A couple tables and folding chairs are in the rest of the open space. It’s probably a big room for any meetings with teams or big groups of people.

“(Y/N) Bennett?” someone asks. You jump and stand to see two men coming around the corner.

One is taller with dark, wavy styled hair, a nose ring, and cool tattoos spidering up his neck. He has a great smile and just radiates a natural energy you like.

The other is slightly shorter with brown hair in a classic cut. He has a scruffy beard and black square glasses. He gives very much dad energy with how he’s dressed.

“Yes,” you say rather breathlessly. “I’m (Y/N) Bennett.”

“I’m Anthony,” the taller says, “And this is Ian.”

You shake hands with them, Ian gesturing to the conference room. “We’ll meet in here.”

The three of you walk into the room and take seats around the long table. “It’s nice to meet you,” you say quietly, “Thank you for offering me an interview.”

“For sure,” Anthony says, leaning forward in his chair. Ian sits and immediately starts spinning back and forth. “We saw your portfolio and were really impressed with your work.”

“Thank you,” you say eagerly.

Ian clears his throat, “Could you tell us a little bit about yourself?”

“Well, I’m living here with my boyfriend. I’ve lived here for about two years. Before that I was in Nevada, just outside of Vegas. My family is still there,” you say quietly. “I’ve been a theatre and fine arts student all my life. I’ve been doing community and school productions since second grade. I have experience in both stage acting and in tech behind the scenes.”

“Which do you prefer?” Anthony asks.

You hold onto your fanny pack, “Right now, probably tech. I really enjoy designing costumes and putting characters together. Sometimes I do miss acting though.”

“What do you enjoy about art design?” Ian questions.

You focus on his chair spinning back and forth. “I’m a fan of storytelling. I think one of the greatest talents a person can have is in telling a story, no matter the platform. If I can be a part of that process, I’d enjoy every second. I want to show the story in costumes, hair, and makeup. It’s the most expressive way to describe a person or character.”

“Well said,” Anthony nods. “How would you manage a set when coordinating those things?”

“I would need to see the costume closet to know how to care for it. Organization is key, ensuring you don’t lose any pieces. You’d need a costume rack on set and some essentials, like safety pins, apparel tape, a lint roller, things like that. Makeup vanities will need to be disinfected and cleaned after use, brushes clean and organized. Prosthetics and stage makeup would need to be cared for to make sure we don’t share any germs and possible infections. The same goes for any hair and wig essentials.”

Ian seems a little lost in your explanation, just impressed that you were on top of it. “You have a fine arts degree, is that right?”

You nod, voice still quiet with the nerves. “That’s right. I got a bachelor’s in fine arts at Utah Tech University in St. George, Utah.”

“Is that close to where you’re from in Nevada?” Anthony asks.

You smile, “Yeah, it’s just over an hour away. It has a well known outdoor theatre called the Tuacahn Amphitheatre. I helped with a few tech things during summer shows. And then I acted at the college.”

“What shows did you act in?” Anthony asks further.

You play with your fingers. “We did Footloose, Addams Family, The Drowsy Chaperone, Elf: The Musical, Measure for Measure, and Much Ado About Nothing.”

Anthony whistles, “You did Shakespeare?”

“I love Shakespeare,” you say. “Much Ado About Nothing is my favorite play.”

“You are a major theatre kid,” Ian says, “Why don’t you act anymore?”

You squeeze your fanny pack, “I’ve gotten a little camera shy the last couple years. I prefer helping with quick changes and fixing any mic tape mishaps.”

You take a turn asking some questions about their art department and typical filming schedule. You learn about their expectations for the job and what the salary would be. It was exactly as Spencer had said.

Ian and Anthony share a look with each other before leaning forward. Anthony looks at you kindly, “Would you mind if we conference for a minute? We want to give you an answer today.”

You widen your eyes, “Yeah, of course. Thank you.”

The pair stand and excuse themselves to discuss things outside the room. You’re left in the swivel chair, picking at your fingers and praying that the interview went well. It would be incredible to be given a job that grants you the security and stable income you wanted.

There was a chance to have friends here. Spencer and Angela would be here. You would be storytelling in little comedy sketches. You’d be a part of a team that designed characters. You’d be in charge of ensuring faces weren’t shiny on camera, hair was in place, and clothes looked good.

This could be a home for you.

It takes almost ten minutes for Ian and Anthony to return. They come back with two others that are introduced as Cassie and Erin. They are art director and assistant art director for all productions.

You would be working beneath them should you be offered the position.

More questions are asked by the newcomers, and you find them to be very kind and artistic like yourself. You agree on many fronts, having many things in common. You would be happy to be working in their department.

Ian and Anthony both have smiles on their faces when they say:

“(Y/N), we want to formally offer you the position of assistant art coordinator. Responsible for hair and makeup, and the costumes of the cast. You’ll be our main reference for any special effects makeup and prosthetics. And you’ll help coordinate for all four channels.”

Tears start to form in your eyes. “Really?”

Cassie and Erin had faces full of sympathy. Cassie was covering her face with her hands. Erin was folding their arms and smiling.

Ian was standing their awkwardly, looking at your emotional reaction, but Anthony was quicker to ask. “Is that a yes?”

You laugh tearily, “Yes! Yes, I’d love to take the position. Thank you guys so much. I’m so excited – I don’t know what to say other than thank you.”

They all clap momentarily, Ian announcing, “Then we should call everyone to the lunchroom and make introductions.”

“We’ll have Selina bring up contracts to sign,” Anthony says, gesturing to the door. “You want to follow us?”

You nod enthusiastically, shaking hands with everyone on the way out. There are lots of thank yous and congratulations.

Cassie, Erin, and Ian go to round up cast and crew to the lunch tables you spotted earlier. Anthony goes to speak with Selina at the receptionist desk.

You exit the conference room, wiping tears away and clutching your fanny pack.

Spencer was there, pacing by the plush armchairs you sat in earlier. He has his arms crossed, one hand at his mouth, tracing his lips in a nervous gesture.

At your arrival, his head whips to you, eyes wide at the tears running down your face. He looks so afraid, unsure of how the interview went. But he might’ve misinterpreted your tears.

“(Y/N),” he says softly, “What… what did they say?”

He didn’t even notice the other people gathering at the lunch tables.

You walk towards him, still trying to wipe at your face, “Spence.”

He wants to hug you desperately then. He wants to comfort you. And he wants to hurt whoever decided to make you cry.

You throw your arms around his neck, burying your face there. He holds you back, still at a loss as to what the final verdict was.

“(Y/N)!” you hear Anthony, “Get over here!”

Spencer still holds you as you whisper to him, “I got the job.”

He pulls away and holds your waist, “What?”

“I got the job,” you whisper more excitedly. “They’re about to announce it to everyone.” You flounce away to stand at a counter with a few mini fridges, addressing a group of cast and crew. You notice Angela standing in the crowd.

She gives you two thumbs up and you wave back.

Spencer walks over just as Ian begins to talk.

“Hey, guys! We wanted to introduce our newest member of Smosh. This is (Y/N) Bennett!”

Anthony continues, “She will be working in the art department as an assistant art coordinator. She’ll be our head of character design and management of costumes, hair, and makeup.”

The crowd begins clapping and shouting their congratulations. Spencer joins them, standing next to Angela and a few others.

Unbeknownst to the pair of you, some cast and crew were sharing looks. People you hadn’t met yet were winking at each other. They knew full well how much Spencer wanted you to get this job.

You wave at everyone, “Hello! I’m so excited to meet you all and start working on these projects.”

Everyone breaks apart to introduce themselves.

Angela brings over a number of people, “Hey, (Y/N).” She says, “Here are some of our castmates.”

A tall woman in a beautiful jumpsuit says, “I’m Amanda, welcome to the Smosh family.”

“I’m Shayne,” a fit blonde man shakes your hand, “And this is Courtney.”

“Hi,” a blonde woman then shakes your hand, “It’s nice to meet you.”

Angela sticks her head in, “Those two are married.”

You nod, giggling, “Wonderful.”

“I’m Chanse,” a curly haired man says, giving you a hug, “Welcome to the team.”

A tall man with a great mustache waves, “I’m Tommy!”

“Hi!” you say, “It might take me a while to remember all your names. Thank you for being so welcoming. I’m so excited to start.”

“Spencer’s told us a lot about you,” Amanda says with a cheeky smile.

You look toward Spencer’s rosy face. “All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, definitely,” Shayne laughs, “He has nothing but praise for you.”

Spencer ignores the immediate retort that the single worst thing about you is your boyfriend. “You guys need to calm down.”

“Can we give you a tour?” Amanda asks, taking your arm, “The office has a lot of sets and rooms.”

Courtney appears on your other side, “We can show you the art department and the costumes closet!”

“And the makeup vanities,” Chanse says, already leading the way, “There are a couple by the sets, but there is one in the green room where Angela takes her naps.”

“Hey!” Angela instantly retorts, “Hey, hey, hey… uncalled for!”

Amanda scoffs, “But true.”

Angela snorts, “Yeah, sure.”

You are dragged away by Amanda and Courtney, Chanse and Angela still bickering along the way.

Spencer stays where he is with Shayne. The latter having a very knowing smirk on his face. Spencer ignores him as long as he can.

“Have you ever been told that you shouldn’t make faces because you’ll be stuck that way?”

Shayne chortles, “I’m just curious how you feel about this.”

“Clearly you already have a theory.”

“I do, based purely on the last eleven months of you pining over this girl.”

“I am incapable of pining.”

Shayne wheezes, “Yeah, sure. What do you call bringing up (Y/N) whenever possible, talking through ways to introduce yourself to her, workshopping conversations with me to get to know her…”

“All of those things were in confidence.”

“And all blatant examples of pining over a woman you’ve grown attached to!”

Spencer licks his lips, watching you being dragged by Angela towards the pods of employee desks. “I don’t… I can’t do anything about it now.”

“I’ve never seen you like this, man,” Shayne chortles. “It’s kind of throwing me off right now. You don’t talk about girls much.”

“The dating apps have been seriously lacking the last year.”

“Because you’ve been talking up some chick at the gas station,” Shayne laughs again. “I have to commend you for playing the long game.”

Spencer shakes his head, “I have to be fine with being just friends.”

But that didn’t mean he couldn’t try to be your best friend.

[cozycottagetarot]

The First Time They See You

🎥 Reading Contents:

First Impressions

Their Immediate Thoughts

What They Think About You

🎞️ Extended Reading Contents:

How You Make Them Feel

What They Tell Others About You

Impact on the Future Relationship

This reading is for entertainment purposes only! Take only what resonates be it all, some or none! ✨

LINKS: Reading Masterlist | Dividers | Ko-Fi | Patreon | Patreon Masterlist | Paid Readings | Paid Readings - $10 and Under - Open 🥂

Pile 1

First Impressions

Cards: Eight of Pentacles, Queen of Pentacles, Page of Wands, The Forgotten, The Founder

For some reason, the first thing that popped into my mind was We Built This City on Rock and Roll. I’m not sure if that resonates with someone here, but it feels relevant—maybe you give off a bit of a rebel vibe, or it’s reflected in the way you dress or carry yourself. Something along those lines.

When it comes to first impressions, the one you leave on your person might not necessarily stick—and that’s not a bad thing. It could simply be that while you remember meeting them, they might not, or the other way around.

I get the sense that your person sees you as someone who’s done well for themselves. They likely think of you as someone who works hard to get where you are. You might give off an air of enjoying life’s luxuries, though not necessarily in a flashy way. It could be more about appreciating the little luxuries, the small joys that bring comfort or happiness.

They might also see you as someone who’s open to adventure. A scene keeps playing in my mind: you’re chatting with someone, maybe in a store, and your person is off to the side, casually observing. It’s like the way you’d notice someone having a conversation—not really focused on them, but still aware of their presence.

Their Immediate Thoughts

Cards: Nine of Cups, The Sun, The Hanged Man

Your person will really like you. I think they’ll see you as someone who radiates joy or has the ability to bring happiness into people’s lives effortlessly. You might have this knack for lifting their spirits or brightening their mood. There’s something about you that will subtly shift their perspective as well—like a little spark of insight or inspiration. Part of me feels like this could have something to do with the way you’re dressed.

I also sense that this encounter will happen in passing—a brief, fleeting moment. Even so, they might think something along the lines of, Wow, this person is... Perhaps you have a super eccentric style, or maybe it’s just something about your personality that makes you stand out in an unmistakable way.

It feels like this will catch their attention. Their immediate thoughts might be something like, Huh, this person is different, or even, Oh, I really like them. Those are the kinds of impressions I’m picking up here.

What They Think About You

Cards: The Acolyte, The Sentinel Rev, The Catalyst, Amanita - Conduit, Pau D’Arco - Metamorphosis

Your person may think of you as someone with feminine qualities—exuding a nurturing, gentle energy. They might also see you as a bit whimsical, especially in terms of your appearance. That said, I feel like they could struggle to fully interpret or "read" you. There’s a certain complexity to you that they might find intriguing or even a little puzzling. For example, you might come across as someone who is wise and mature, yet youthful in appearance. You could also give off the impression of being a student—someone who is curious about others, always learning, and dedicated to personal growth.

There’s definitely a sense of playfulness they might pick up on, too. The imagery that comes to mind is something like a mystical or enchanted vibe—mushrooms, fairies, gnomes, that sort of whimsical, otherworldly energy.

They might also notice that you seem to be someone who’s always changing. For instance, maybe your hair is dyed one color, but your roots are showing in a different shade, signaling transformation and evolution. It could also be something they pick up on just by overhearing you talk about yourself—how you actively seek change and growth rather than waiting for life to happen to you.

Your person might think you’re someone unafraid of the unknown. They could see you as someone who thrives on challenges, always seeking the next thing to conquer or explore. There’s also a sense that they might perceive you as confident and self-assured. Depending on the context, this could even come across as arrogance or self-centeredness, but it seems more tied to how much power or presence you have—and your awareness of it.

They might also view you as someone artistic or deeply connected to nature. Mystical energy keeps coming through strongly, and I think that’s a key part of how they’ll perceive you the first time they see you.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this post! 💚

✨Curious about how you make them feel? ✨ What whispers might they share about you with others? 🤫💕 How will that first glance shape your future connection? 👀💞 Dive deeper with the extended access tier on Patreon for the full, in-depth reading 🔮✨—or read "How You Make Them Feel" as a free member! 💌🌟

Pile 2

First Impressions

Cards: Eight of Wands, The Stars, The Devil, The Painter, The Gambler

This is so amusing. I feel like your person’s first impression when they see you is, are you the thing that will save them or the thing that will ruin them completely?

I think you come in very quickly, leaving your person all wide awake and alert. You’re this beacon of light and hope for them, but at the same time, there’s something so mysterious and forbidden about you. Pursuing you, or even the idea of having you, feels thrilling, but it also carries an edge of danger. That’s the vibe I’m getting here from the cards.

It’s like you have the power to show them a whole new world, and that world could be incredible, or it could be devastating. Either way, they seem willing to take the risk and dive in. Honestly, I don’t sense any hesitation from them—none at all. They’re completely enthralled by you, and that’s their first impression.

It’s like… wow.

I think they find you incredibly beautiful. In fact, I’d say they’re very physically attracted to you, and that plays a significant part in it. For some reason, I’m also getting that you might come from different cultures, which could add to the intrigue.

But more than anything, there’s just this overwhelming thrill. You’re so addictive and so enticing—it’s like, oh my gosh. That’s all I can say: oh my gosh. Pile 2, what the heck? Your person is going to be all in for you from the start. That’s their first impression.

Their Immediate Thoughts

Cards: Ace of Cups, Six of Wands, The World

I think doing this pile is definitely going to be a highlight of my day. I’m getting that your person’s immediate thoughts are something like, they just want to eat you up. That’s the phrase I keep hearing, and it feels like your person has such a bold and playful personality—it really comes through in this reading. They see you as someone who probably has a ton of romantic attention. It’s like you’re this irresistible catch, and people are all over you. That’s what keeps coming through: you’ve got so many people chasing after you, and honestly, I can’t see it any other way.

So yeah, their immediate thought is that you’re an absolute catch. You’ve got so much going for you—you’re stunning, beautiful, and it’s something I keep circling back to throughout this reading.

Your person also seems to think you’d be an amazing lover, and they want to be your lover.

What They Think About You

Cards: The merchant, The Pilgrim, The Alchemist, Rue - Protection, Ginkgo - Breakthrough

You seem to have a very magnetic aura, and because of that, you don’t let people in very easily. You’re discerning about who you allow into your energy field. Your energy feels heavily protected, and that’s something people notice about you right away. They might sense—or assume—that you’ve got a deeper layer to you, and I think that’s part of what they initially find so alluring. There’s something about you that feels guarded but also captivating.

I think they see you as someone who’s very confident and aware of your worth. You’re not the type to settle for less than you deserve, and that confidence is magnetic in itself.

At the same time, they might think you’re a bit lost or lacking direction in where you’re headed. There’s this sense that they could see you as someone who might be a little self-destructive at times—or at least that’s a perception they could have. It’s almost like they imagine you as someone who builds yourself up but then occasionally tears it all down.

That dynamic—of being both powerful and a little risky—is part of what they find so intriguing. They sense there’s some level of risk in being with you or around you, and that’s a big part of the pull they feel toward you.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this post! 💚

✨Curious about how you make them feel? ✨ What whispers might they share about you with others? 🤫💕 How will that first glance shape your future connection? 👀💞 Dive deeper with the extended access tier on Patreon for the full, in-depth reading 🔮✨—or read "How You Make Them Feel" as a free member! 💌🌟

PILE 3

First Impressions

Cards: Knight of Wands, The Star, Ace of Pentacles, The Witch, The Diviner

Your person sees you as someone who is very energetic, optimistic, and motivated, with a go-getter attitude toward the things you set your mind to. Their first impression might be that you’re someone who comes up with a lot of great ideas and has the potential for successful outcomes—though what “success” means might vary. Rather than defining it specifically, let’s just say they see you as someone likely to achieve positive results.

They also view you as someone very hopeful, someone who tries to see the best in situations without ignoring potential risks. You seem to strike a balance, focusing on the positives while still acknowledging the negatives. Depending on the context, you might come across as slightly impulsive, but overall, they perceive you as charismatic and confident.

There’s a mystical quality about you, too. They might feel like you have all the answers or that you’ve got the path ahead of you figured out, which leaves them a little mystified. At the same time, you might seem like you’re in your own world, unconcerned with what others are doing and entirely focused on your own goals—what you need to do to get from point A to point B.

They might also pick up on an earthy, natural vibe from you. There’s a sense that you could have an interest in nature, architecture, or even herbalism. These impressions might come across subtly, but they add to the idea that you’re someone who knows a lot about those kinds of things, or at least gives off that impression.

Their Immediate Thoughts

Cards: Ten of Swords, Six of Swords, Page of Swords

This won't resonate with everyone, but I’m picking up on an image of someone wearing a shawl and a lot of bangles or bracelets on their wrists—depending on how they express themselves. Glasses might also come to mind, along with imagery of a greenhouse or a guest speaker at an event. Of course, this could be very specific and apply to just one person.

Your person might perceive you as someone currently in a "solo era." It feels like you’re focused on healing, recovery, or just regaining balance after a draining experience. This could suggest you’re not actively seeking social connections right now.

Alternatively, if you’re working on a project or an idea with long-term potential, they may see you as someone who prefers to handle things independently. This could lead them to think you’re not particularly looking to collaborate at the moment. They might also believe you’re already in a relationship, which would tie into their perception that you’re either unavailable for social connections or preoccupied with your personal work.

Another thing they could sense about you is that you’re someone who has "breakthrough ideas," particularly in environments like school, work, or professional settings. They might see you as a person who consistently comes up with fresh, innovative concepts.

Overall, they view you as someone transitioning—leaving something behind and moving toward something healthier. It feels like "recovery mode" is a recurring theme. Whatever you’re moving on from, they think you’re navigating it with purpose.

What They Think About You

Cards: The Warrior, The Botanist, The Mascareri, Horsetail - Patience, Cacao - Initiation

Their thoughts align with an image of someone deeply connected to nature. They might imagine you working with plants, exploring nature, or pursuing hobbies like painting, pottery, or other creative, hands-on activities—perhaps even as a profession.

They might see you as someone who strives for perfection, but they could also feel that you hide your authentic self behind a mask of this perfectionism. At the same time, they view you as nurturing, patient, and willing to put in the necessary effort to see something bloom, even if it requires isolation.

Wherever they encounter you, it seems like they see you in your element—whether it’s creating, strategizing, or working on something meaningful. There’s a serene and calm energy about you, almost like a "green witch" archetype, embodying a sense of harmony and trust in the process of life.

They might feel that you have a strong connection to the Divine, as many of the cards reflect this theme. There’s a sense of familiarity they might feel with your soul, as if they intuitively recognize something deep about you.

It’s possible they see you as a teacher or mentor in some way—someone they watch and learn from, whether intentionally or by circumstance. This observant nature suggests a level of intrigue on their part. They might think: “I know this person’s soul,” and this thought could leave them feeling both curious and captivated by your essence.

If you made it this far, thank you for taking the time to read this post! 💚

✨Curious about how you make them feel? ✨ What whispers might they share about you with others? 🤫💕 How will that first glance shape your future connection? 👀💞 Dive deeper with the extended access tier on Patreon for the full, in-depth reading 🔮✨—or read "How You Make Them Feel" as a free member! 💌🌟

[cyber333angel]

DEALER!BARRY X SPOILED!READER X DEALER!RAFE <3

you get a little too “spoiled” when with your boyfriends — barry and rafe!

˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚ ⋆ ˚୨୧⋆｡˚

it was the weekend, meaning it was time for shopping spree at the mall! strolling around the coach store of your favorite big building, you struggle to choose which bag your boyfriends would pay for. behind you they walked, talking while watching you happily trudge in front of them. “blueberry or cherry?” you ask holding them both up next to you, posing with them in your pink tracksuit . “you can get both of em mama.” barry tells you and rafe looks at him, “she doesn’t need both, you spoil her too much.” barry rolls his eyes, “s’not like we can’t afford it big bruh, if she wants it she can have it.” you squeal at his retort, and hug him. “thank you bear!” giving him an attack of kisses on his cheek. rafe sighs “that’s not the point. you know how bratty she gets when she thinks she can have anything she wants. don’t act surprised when she throws a tantrum cause she can’t have something.”

“mhm.” barry says walking to the other shelf of jewelry with you, looking back at rafe and stick your tongue at him and say “bleh!” he furrows his eyebrows and power-walks toward you, shrieking at his scariness, you run and hide behind barry.

after shopping, you arrive home at tannyhill. “thank you rafe!” giving him a kiss for funding half the shopping spree “thank you bear!” you give your other boyfriend a kiss for the other half of funding and take your bags up to your room, placing them in your walk in closet.

later on a friday, your sitting on the couch with rafe, watching tv while he scrolls through his phone. bored you say, “rafey can we go to the mall? I smelt this miss dior perfume last week and I really liked it but we never bought it.” he doesn’t look up from his phone. “no. we already went this week, no need to go for a while.” you pout at him, “no but I really need it! im going somewhere with-“ he cuts you off. “what i just say huh? no. getting so fuckin bratty this early in the morning..” you look at him with a vexed face and you mumble. “I bet barry would take me..so infuriating”

rafe looks up at you from his phone. “what’d you say?” trying to escape the scene, you get up and walk to the the kitchen telling him, “s’nothing!”

“what i fucking thought.” he says quietly but harsh enough for you to hear. barry comes home later at night finding rafe in the kitchen opening a can of beer. “yo country club.” he looks for you and doesn’t see you with rafe as you usually are at this time, he asks ” where’s our girl?” rafe chuckles “sleeping off the badass little attitude she had today.”

barry, confused on what attitude you could possibly have, “what’d she do?” sighing, rafe shoots him a look “she started acting like a fucking brat cause I told her she can’t go to the mall again as if we didn’t go this week already. it’s because of you she thinks she can always have her way.”

barry had always been the one to be the most lenient with you, he loved you and would do anything to protect his girl. and of course rafe loves you as well and would do more than anything for you, but someone had to keep you in check and it was always rafe. “well come talk to her with me then. we’ll set her straight.” you wake up to barry picking you up by the armpits, blinking awake and rubbing your eyes with your manicured nails , “mm hi bear..”

“hey princess, we gotta talk so let’s go downstairs and get something t’a eat alright?” he readjusts the satin bonnet sliding off your head, you nod at him still sleepy. gaining energy you sit on the island of your kitchen while barry fixes you some milk and and a grilled cheese. rafe stands in front of you, you roll your eyes following from the earlier argument. he jerks his head back from the sudden sass, “don’t roll your eyes at me, you know your manners.“ he looks back at barry, “ you-you see what im talking about right? she’s getting too fucking rude. what is it, you need some dick? what’s with the attitude?” you look at him with all seriousness in your face “I wanted to go to the mall rafe!” he breathes hard through his nose. “im fed up with you. barry go talk some sense into that girl before i bend her over the table i swear.” barry turns the stove off, finishing your grilled cheese and cuts it diagonally placing it next to you with a glass milk. “what’s going on going on sweet girl? I hear you throwing tantrums round’ this house, what’s that about?” you pout at him “rafes being mean t’me saying I can’t go shopping!”

“well you know if we tell you something your supposed to listen even if it’s something you don’t wanna hear.” he tilts his head at you “hm? now why don’t you gone head and apologize to polo boy over there f’me.” you look up at him and huff, turning your back to rafe sitting on the couch you shout “rafe could you come over here please!” he rises from his seat and walks over to you, “don’t yell in the fucking house. what is it? you gonna apologize for the way you been acting?” you nod, “mhm i just wanted to say m’sorry daddy. I didn’t mean to be a brat, you just get me nice things all the time, and i guess I got carried away! it won’t happen again, promise!” holding up your pinky finger to pinky promise your boyfriend, rafe chuckles, interlocking his pinky with yours. “thanks for the apology baby, your gonna be a good girl for the rest of the week right?” he says nodding his head waiting for you to agree, “mhm.”

barry interjects, “well I think our pretty girl deserves a reward for being a big girl today right?” and rafe bows his head in a agreeing motion diving in to kiss you deeply from the right side of your body. your other boyfriend on your left, slides his rough hands on your thighs. “open your legs f’me mama.” you split your legs apart revealing the wet spot on your pink laced panties and through your thin shorts. barry takes off your short sleeping pants as well as your panties, letting the shorts drop to the floor, he puts your pink lace into his pocket. bending down he kisses you up from your calfs, up to your knees and to your inner thighs. “you gone let me make you feel good angel?” you nod frantically through rafes kisses. barry hooks his biceps under your thighs to bring you now soaked cunt closer to his face. “you smell so fuckin sweet for daddy, love this pussy.” he spits on your bud, sucking it harshly, making you squirm around the table. you whimper into rafes mouth from the intensity of barry’s lapping. rafe lifts up your shirt exposing your breasts and starts to pinch your nipples, with a different hand he unbuckles his pants. he grabs your hand and pulls out his cock letting you stroke his length. whispering “fuck..” under his breath, you paw at him faster. you shiver when barry thrust his tongue into your wet cunt, he takes his tongue out and shoves two fingers in and the other hand rubbing furiously at your clit. you take the one hand you have left and grip at rafes shirt from the extreme stimulation of your cunt. “be a good girl and come for daddy.” your boyfriend below you says, finishing you off. you arch your back, “mmph!” stuttering into rafes mouth, he lets go of your moistened lips, his dick standing tall from your jerking at it. hiccuping you say “that felt so g-good daddy.. I want you in me now please!”

“course mama.” barry gets up and lifts you off the counter, guiding you to the couch in the living room, you take rafes hand and he follows behind you. barry unbuttons his pants and his cock springs out, average height but so unbelievably thick. he sits on the couch and pulls you close to him, you hover over him letting him position his dick into your slick cunt. sinking down he praises you, “goood girl. shit, you taking me so well angel.” you mewl at him “mm it’s so big daddy!” rafe watches the scene and stands in front of you, gripping your jaw to force you to look up at him. “you wanna make daddy feel good too right?” you nod frantically and he lets go of your face, holding up his cock with one hand he slaps it on your cheek and positions it into your mouth. he thrusts his cock into your mouth making you choke, gripping your neck to make your gullet feel tighter. behind you, barry’s fucking up into your cunt with wet sounds heard all around the living room. it makes your head spin and clench harder around his cock “you doing so well for us princess, see how being a good girl gets you a reward?” you can’t answer with your throat being used but you do agree. “this fucking mouth..god you feel so good.” choking, as rafe speeds up the pace, he releases his warm load deep into your throat, thrusting as deep as he can to make it stick. “you better swallow all of it sweetheart..shittt..” he takes his cock out your mouth looking at your face. he grabs you face again “stick out your tongue.” you do as your told, showing him your empty mouth, cum nowhere to be seen but in your stomach. “good girl.” your eyes are half lidded and you smile up at him, still getting pounded from behind. “f-fuck daddy your going too hard..” barry smacks your ass, a firm slap that makes you flinch “don’t say that shit.” you sob at the harsh tone. “m’sorryyy daddy, your just hitting it so deep!”

“yeah I know mama..im bout to finish.” he puts in his last brutal thrust. plap-plap-plap and you cry at the rapid pace, taking your hands and placing them on barry’s thighs, a weak attempt to slow him down. looking up at rafe he tells you to “move your fucking hands.” you flinch, removing them and instead you reach your hands out to rafe, interlocking your hands together. barry at his climax, nuzzles his dick deep into your pussy, burrowing his warm cum into your pussy. “mm felt so good..both make me feel so g-good, oh goddd!” twitching when barry pulls out your cunt, he gets up from under you. they both admire you as the cum leaks out from your abused pussy. “what a fucking view..” after they finish using you, rafe lifts you up “let’s get you cleaned up sweetheart, did so good.” barry cleans up the pillows knocked off from this whole affair and goes to the kitchen, putting your grilled cheese in the microwave for you to eat tomorrow. your boyfriends both clean you up in the tub, they wash you off and clean out the load still buried in your cunt. they change you into one of their shirts, placing you in the shared bed you lay between them. you mumble as you drift to sleep “bear and rafey..can I go shopping now?” they both chuckle at you still acting like spoiled brat. “sure sweet girl.” as you fall asleep in their arms.

<3

[cracklinhaze]

wendy and dipper's dynamic is so important to me.

i know she's often categorized as just his crush, but i truly think she's the first REAL friend dipper's ever had outside of mabel. we know he struggles to make friends back home and tries really hard to be mature.

we also know wendy tries to be mature for her age, too. she's the youngest of her friend group and tries really hard to put on a whole cool, chill exterior: but she's just as stressed and anxious under the surface.

the whole "you were a freak" scene during the mystery shack party is further evidence of this.

dipper lets her be a kid again. WHICH SHE STILL IS. she's only fifteen, even though from dipper's perspective that's impossible cool and adult. she's not even old enough to drive. she still has nightmares about her mother dying. she's the only girl left in her family at home. dipper gives her a chance to not be so grown-up for once.

in almost every instance we see them hanging out, they're genuinely having a good time: building golf cart ramps, making up security camera games to pass the time at work, playing video games. friendship comes VERY easy for them. when dipper isn't freaking out about how to talk to her, they get along very well and seem to enjoy the same activities.

they keep each other's secrets. she often corrects robbie when he takes a jab at dipper and invites him to parties. she tries to make him look cool in front of her friends after what he did in the convenience store.

she gives him her hat. she takes his.

i've seen some folks say that it wasn't fair that mabel got close friends over the summer, and dipper didn't get any. to me, that's missing the obvious: he got wendy. they're best friends.

i think it's so important that it's NOT a one-sided dynamic. sure, he liked her -- of course he liked her. who wouldn't??? but he DOESN'T go the route of bill and gideon; he accepts the friendship, treasures it.

that's so fucking good.

[shorthaltsjester]

one of the most infuriating parts of seeing people refer to cr as the “it’s love that saves people” show is that they completely ignore the context of that quote and that, yes, it is the “it’s love that saves people” show and that’s actually why c3 was a disappointment. because caduceus doesn’t just spontaneously say that to trent out of some pity for the fact that trent doesn’t have anyone, it’s that, as is central to caduceus’ journey and the mighty nein as a whole, when people love you they will challenge you and negate the foolish cycles of thought that can only emerge from a life lived in isolation. the mighty nein learned this lesson, with characters who notably and violently rejected the notion that they could be open to one another eventually realizing the only way to honour the friends they found and the version of themself that those friends came to care for required being honest with those friends about their motivations and feelings and desires. and in the c2 finale(s) we see the consequences of the choice each of them made to give up the lonely versions they’d sold themselves away as in favour of being a member of the mighty nein. fjord returns to an imperfect but cherished relationship with vandran that he’d previously committed to avoiding, beau finds her footing in the cobalt soul where her loudness isn’t just put up with but is valued for its keeping the institution true, caleb decides not to be the version of himself years of solitary confinement and abusive manipulation would have him be by electing to imprison trent, veth makes the choice to return to her family rather than see the empire bureaucracy through, jester opts to continue adventuring and helping her friends as they need it since she’s found her place in the world to be wherever they need her, yasha is finally able to make the choice to fully face her grief and bring the collection of penance stored in her journal back to zuala’s grave, caduceus returns to a grove recovering from a once-encroaching sickness attended by a family likewise recovering and commits himself to rebuilding the temple. there’s not a single outcome in terms of the character’s “happily ever afters” (which, as a side note, is why the claim that what people are frustrated with c3 for is the abundance of happy endings absurd and obvious in its refusal to actually take seriously a divergent opinion to its own — c2 was also a largely happy ending, likewise boosted by a an unlikely dice roll, the difference is the narrative earning) that is not mediated by literal years of character work and dming that orients that work toward the campaign plot (or that orients the plot toward the character work). c2 feels earned because it proves the implicit message of “pain doesn’t make people, it’s love that makes people”, where transformation happens in either case, but love is a transformation born out of choice, and pain demands a transformation for survival.

if you want to take seriously that c3 is part of a world constantly negotiating with the claim “it’s love that makes people.” you have to take seriously the initiating claim that’s it’s not pain that makes them, and that, in fact, in light of the love that one chooses, pain becomes inconsequential. given the frequency with which the fandom rolls out the “it’s not. x characters fault, they’re traumatized” i’d say it’s pretty obvious that bells hells have failed to qualify for, let alone pass, the “it’s love that makes them” test, since they are all still quite significantly defined by their pain and a refusal to choose love in the sense of transformation. there’s a bell hooks quote i used for this cr edit I made awhile ago that i’ve always felt really resonates with what caduceus says in that scene + what cr has tended to say about love through the characters and their journeys. and you can go to the link for the full quote but the pertinent part is that love is a commitment to being changed and a commitment to struggle to achieve that change even if it means letting go of the easier notions of ourselves as unlovable or broken to do so.

like, to be clear i’m not saying that bells hells don’t love people or each other at the end of the campaign, but that their love is a noun and not a verb. laudna goes to lieve’tel and has to be told she isn’t broken, ashton sacrifices himself and it’s not even the love of bells hells that saves them, it’s the deus ex machina of essek. bells hells are defined by their stagnancy, their refusal to give up on the definitions of themselves they’ve come to hold as a result of trauma. and while the initial creation of those identities is not on them, the continued maintenance of those identities such that they become bad faith habits that disallow any notion of growth to occur in the face of senses of self which assume their own brokenness is on them. and in all honesty that still could’ve been an interesting story, especially since it shows they’re of the same kind as ludinus, but it would not have ever been a story about the kind of love that caduceus is talking about when he says it’s love that makes people — let it not be forgotten that love (and fear) as a noun kept caduceus alone for years and love as a verb showed him the pay off of giving up stagnancy’s safety to pursue something else — nor the kind of love that c1 and c2 are built upon.

[fayecreates]

Naked in Manhattan

A/N: pls send requests, i need them for my shitty trip. (A little update 2 days later) im gonna cry my eyes out if i have to stay her for any longer.

Premise: Teen!Vi x teen!reader, being unlikely friends, having a sleepover together and that leads to a bit of silly stuff (NOTHING WEIRD JUST KISSING)

Warnings: uh kissing? Idk, dont read this if you’re like 30 cuz thats a little weird. Probably a wrong description of friday the 13th, i watched it like 5 years ago so idk all i know is theres a sex scene at the start.

Words: 1,481

To put it simply, you were a weird kid. From 1st grade to now you didnt have many friends. It wasnt horrible, it was honestly pretty nice. Less drama to worry about and more time to get your homework done so you can do whatever you want. That was until you met Vi.

She was a pretty sociable person, not like happy to talk constantly, just unafraid of interaction. You both sat by each other during biology, it came to you easily but with Vi it took a little more time… after a while she started to ask for your help. It was never a demand to do her homework, and you could tell that she was really struggling. It started with a few short explanations, to a few short conversations about the shitty teacher, to plans to hang out afterschool. It was all so fast for you, was this even how friendships started? Either way it was fine, not like you could call it off when you’re 5 minutes away from her house.

Your heart raced at the thought of even being in her house. Was it weird to dress up for this? Were your pajamas appropriate? What would her house look like? You sat in the backseat of the car, gripping onto the strap of your bag for dear life, contemplating if it was even normal to be this nervous. I mean you were acting like you were going on your first date, and it’d be weird to date another girl, right? I mean Vi was pretty but wasn’t in a romantic way, maybe… your racing thoughts were cut off by the sudden stop of the car. You quickly got out, making sure you had all your stuff on you.

After talking to Vi’s dad Vander for a little, you sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, looking around like you about escape. She had a few posters, most of some boxers you didn’t know and some rock bands you also didn’t know. Her room was messy but you can see that she attempted to clean up a bit. It was a little after 9pm, Vi was talking to her dad about watching some movies on the TV. A part of you wanted to beg to be picked up and the other wanted to stay forever.

“Alright, you up to watch some horror movies?” Vi said with a smirk on her face, holding up a few CDs of shitty shock value horror. You smiled, standing up and walking quickly to living room together.

You both sat on the couch together, a space between the two of you. “Okay… Friday the 13th or Hellraiser?” She asked with a daring look on her face as she held both them up. You pointed to Friday the 13th, i mean you’ve heard about it more so it couldn’t be that bad, right? Vander was out going to the store, and Powder was out for the night by now. Vi put the CD in and you both sat watching. Maybe you spent a little too much time caring about if your posture was bad or if you should hold something, but as soon as the opening scene came on you didn’t know how to act. Seeing the people move in such a manner to mimic sex, you knew it was probably not real but it made you blush a bit. As you listened to the faux moans, you felt weird. You imagined yourself as the girl for a minute, it wasn’t too enjoyable compared to imagining the both of you there. But you wouldn’t do that with Vi, that would be weird, right. Safe to say you stayed silent for the rest of the movie, barely even getting scared if you excuse jumping a few times.

After it had ended you sort of just spaced out. Vi took a notice of that, assuming you were just scared or something. “…you wanna watch something easier?” She said after a second of silence, you just nodded. She quickly got up to look through CDs again, finally landing on Mean Girls to cleanse your palate. Putting in and watching felt a bit better. You both made fun of them and laughed with each other, it was weirdly bonding. The clock hit 11pm, you guys were a bit closer on the couch. You looked to Vi at a funny part, seeing if she would laugh, you didn’t know why seeing her smile made your heart race. Your eyes met and she smiled at just you, but you felt like you were caught stealing something so you quickly looked away.

The movie ended and Vander came back, telling you both to go to bed. You both obliged, even though you shared a small look, knowing you’d stay up until you couldn’t keep your eyes open. You both sat on the floor of Vi’s bedroom, attempting to think of something to do. “Maybe we could play truth or dare?” You ask, it was stereotypical but it was a fun game, theoretically. Vi lit up, like it was the idea of a century. “I’ll start, truth or dare?” Vi said with a smile, holding her pillow in her lap. “Truth?” You were bit unsure, still anxious if all your actions were okay. “Okay… who’s your celebrity crush?” Vi asks with the same smile plastered on her face. You thought long and hard, you couldn’t say some like Kristen Stewart or any other girl, that would make it so tense. “…uh… whoever the actor is for Elvira…” you say, hesitant but you couldn’t lie. Lying would be worse than making it awkward. She looked a bit shocked. “Really? You like girls?” She says like it just unexpected rather than weird. “I dont know… i mean probably.” You say, trying to push off the topic, it wasn’t something for you to decide right now, or you just told yourself that. It was silent and awkward for a moment, well for you. You forgot it was your turn. “Oh, truth or dare?” You say quickly, attempting to completely forget, or at least think of a way to give yourself short term memory loss. “Truth.” She says, her smile still unmoving. “Uh… have you ever dated someone?” You ask, a little hesitant. The warm light of a lamp illuminated Vi’s face, it was covered in scars but it was pretty to you. “No, datings for losers.” She says with a laugh, it was unexpected though. Someone so nice, so pretty, i mean you would totally date her— never mind. “Truth or dare.” Vi says, her voice daring. You couldn’t pick truth again, it’d a pussy move. “Dare.” You said with a surge of confidence. It was a moment of silence as Vi contemplated what dare to give her.

“I dare you to kiss me.” Vi says with a smirk, like she knew you wouldn’t do it. Your face became hot as can be. You froze for a minute, it was so weird to even think about doing that with any girl, let alone Vi. You didn’t know if it was a sudden rush of adrenaline or what, all that you did know was the feeling of Vi’s lips pressed against yours. You held the side of her cheek, as if she would leave if you let go. Vi was surprised, well that was before she responded with ten times the amount of force in the kiss. Almost straight up knocking you down, her hands falling to your shoulder and your waist. After a minute that felt way too long, she broke the kiss. Your insides felt crazy, you had never felt like this ever. Her smile was so wide as she stared into your eyes, your own expression just being plain shocked.

“…was that too much?” Vi asked, you shook your head maybe a bit too much. You started to smile, the warm feeling growing in your stomach. With only the smallest bit of hesitance she kissed you once more, well it was more like a hundred small kisses, but it lasted forever. Her hand that was planted on your waist gently moved upwards onto your ribcage, feeling your heart race. On the other hand, yours were stuck like they were weighed down with concrete. It was awkward, intense as well, she prodded her tongue onto your lips just a bit, as if asking for entrance. You separate your lips a smidge, her tongue quickly entering. It was awkward, you let out a few weird noises, she almost passed out from lack of oxygen. After breaking the kiss, you both sat there awkwardly, not really knowing what to do next.

“Uh… that was nice…” Vi says with a flushed face and a dorky smile. You nodded, you had never once expected to make out with anyone, let alone a girl. It was nice, very nice.

[tojisprettylittlething]

MR. AND MRS. FUSHIGURO — MASTERLIST

Assassin!Toji Fushiguro x Assassin!Fem!Reader

🔪 Genre: Action, Thriller, Strangers to Enemies to Lovers, Romance, Smut, Angst, Comedy 📖 POV: Second Person 🔥 Warnings: Violence, Blood, Weapons, Explicit Scenes, Mind Games, Betrayal, Gunplay, Knifeplay, Power Struggles- A lot of stuff...

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT I: STRANGERS IN THE DARK (Ch. 1-15)

1. Grocery Store Encounters – A normal day. A normal grocery run. Then Toji walks into your life. 2. The Coffee Shop – You see him again. A coincidence? Or something more? 3. The Art of Watching – A game of cat and mouse begins. You’re both hunters, but who’s the prey? 4. Dancing in the Shadows – A mission goes wrong. Or maybe, it goes exactly as planned. 5. A Gun Between Us – The first real fight. Knives, guns, and something even more dangerous—hatred. 6. Midnight Chase – An assignment forces you to confront Toji head-on. The lines blur. 7. Truce or Trap? – You agree to work together—temporarily. But can you really trust him? 8. Locked and Loaded – You teach him your tricks. He teaches you his. 9. Close Calls and Closer Touches – Tension explodes in an unexpected way. 10. Secrets Under Silk Sheets – A moment of weakness. A moment of passion. A moment that changes everything. 11. Trust is a Loaded Gun – He gets too close. You push him away. 12. Another Mission, Another Mistake – You let your guard down. You regret it. 13. The Kiss That Sealed It – He’s not just a job anymore. He’s something worse. 14. The Night We Became Us – One choice, one decision—your lives are no longer separate. 15. A Dead Man’s Love Letter – The past catches up to you both.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT II: HONEYMOON IN HELL (Ch. 16-35)

16. Mr. & Mrs. Fushiguro – You never wanted a husband. Toji never wanted a wife. But here you are. 17. How to Love a Killer – Toji is difficult. You are worse. 18. Marriage Counseling, Assassin Style – Fighting is easier with fists than words. 19. Bulletproof Vows – "For better or worse" hits differently when guns are involved. 20. Wife, Weapon, Widowmaker – You’re balancing marriage and murder—what could go wrong? 21. Beneath the Bloodstains – He sees a side of you no one else ever has. 22. Fighting or Foreplay? – Who said sparring couldn't be intimate? 23. Dinner with a Side of Danger – Date night turns deadly. 24. Sleeping with the Enemy – You dream of him. You dream of his death. 25. Lies Between the Sheets – There are things you haven’t told him. There are things he hasn’t told you. 26. Jealousy is a Sharp Blade – Another assassin flirts with you. Toji doesn’t like it. 27. Couples Therapy at Gunpoint – Trust is hard when you both have knives behind your backs. 28. A Mission Gone Too Far – You risk your life for him. He hates you for it. 29. Death’s Door and Your Name on His Lips – Toji almost loses you. Almost. Again. 30. The First 'I Love You' Was a Whisper in the Dark – Soft moments don't come easy. 31. Betrayal in a Black Dress – Toji finds out your biggest secret. 32. Revenge is a Lover’s Game – You break his heart. He breaks something worse. 33. No Mercy in Matrimony – You were never meant to be soft. Neither was he. 34. Ruin Me, Darling – The fight that nearly ends it all. 35. Back to Blood and Business – The only way forward is through fire.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT III: TILL DEATH DO US PART (Ch. 36-55)

36. Hunted by Our Own – The agency wants you both dead. 37. Hitman Honeymoon – The world thinks you’re on vacation. You’re really on the run. 38. In the Arms of an Assassin – He saves you. You hate it. 39. One More Kill Before Breakfast – Morning routines, married assassin edition. 40. Megumi – The one thing neither of you planned for. 41. The Last Job – One more kill. Then, maybe, peace. 42. Wife of a Wanted Man – Toji makes the headlines. You make a choice. 43. Between a Kiss and a Kill – Love or survival? You can’t have both. 44. Bleeding in His Arms – You fall. He catches you. 45. Escape Plan – If you leave now, you can live. If you stay, you die together. 46. The Funeral of Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro – You fake your deaths. The world thinks you’re gone. 47. New Identities, Same Hearts – You try to be normal. It doesn’t work. 48. A House with No Weapons – Domestic life is boring. 49. Date Night Disaster – Toji gets jealous again. It’s still hot. 50. Megumi Says His First Word – Fatherhood looks good on him. 51. Killer Instincts Never Die – You promised to stop. You lied. 52. The Hit That Ruined Everything – One mistake. One bullet. One last fight. 53. Toji, Don’t Die on Me – He bleeds for you. 54. We Were Never Meant to be Normal – The truth finally settles. 55. The Final Kill – One last target. One last goodbye.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

ACT IV: THE LEGACY OF TWO MONSTERS (Ch. 56-70)

56. The Next Generation – Megumi starts to notice the truth. 57. Old Habits, Older Scars – You and Toji can’t sit still. 58. Enemies in the Shadows – Someone knows you’re still alive. 59. Back to the Beginning – The past never stays buried. 60. Hunted Again – Running was never the answer. 61. The Love Story of Two Killers – You tell Megumi how it all began. 62. A Family of Assassins? – The question neither of you want to answer. 63. Peace or Power? – The world calls for you again. 64. One More Bullet – Can you ever truly escape? 65. The Final War – Toji vs. the world. 66. Love in the Line of Fire – You always knew how this would end. 67. A Monster’s Goodbye – One of you isn’t making it out alive. 68. A Widow’s Revenge – If Toji dies, you will burn the world. 69. A New Name, A New Life – But can you ever really leave? 70. Mr. and Mrs. Fushiguro: The End – Or maybe, a new beginning.

[theverystrangegirl27]

⋆⭒˚.Be My Once In A Lifetime ⋆⭒˚.⋆

Summary: You're a young actress with a supporting role in Inglorious Basterds. You and co-star Christoph Waltz grow closer under the pretense of practicing a scene together.

Warnings: smut, older man younger woman, vaginal sex, multiple orgasms

"You're kidding, right?”

The camera pans up your bare leg, revealing the tight black dress you'd been hassled into by Quentin and the costume designer.

Quentin paces back and forth in front of you, eyes squinted.

“No! I think this is perfect, maybe shorter heels, though.” He says, gesturing to the costume designer, who comes back with some tasteful kitten heels.

You've known Quentin for most of your life, having worked at the video store together and collaborated on many of your own short films.

It only seemed right for him to cast you in his latest project, though you don't understand why he'd want you, an amateur actress, working alongside legends like Brad Pitt and the talented Christoph Waltz.

The cameraman stops on your face, which you can see in the monitor, and you try to school it into a more pleasant expression but it's hopeless- you've never acted in a scene like this before.

“Quentin, are you sure I'm the right fit for this?” You ask, carefully walking down the short staircase.

He shoots you a look.

“Of course, I wouldn't have cast you if you weren't.”

You suppose he has a point.

“Besides, I think it'll be good for you to branch out and play a little dangerous, if you know what I mean.”

You can't help the laugh that escapes you as he raises his brows, obviously intending to cheer you up.

“Okay,” you agree, slipping off the stilettos and replacing them with the kitten heels. “Let's do it.”

That's how you end up beneath Christoph Waltz, or rather, Hans Landa.

The camera is zoomed in on both of your faces, Christoph tracing the line of your lips with his eyes as he recites the lines.

“The Basterds must know that I am not a stupid man.” He says, low and condescending. “To send a seductress after me, how infantile.”

Yet his lips draw nearer, his grip on your waist harsh and unforgiving. You look into his eyes, gaze cold as he looks back into yours. You arch, trying to get away, but he holds you tighter.

You gasp as he fingers dig into the dress, sharp blooms of pain growing from the skin there.

“However,” He begins, the corners of his mouth pulling into a horrible smile. “I would be more of an imbecile not to take this angelic little gift that was practically served to me on a silver platter.”

You feel yourself getting wet at the lilt in his voice, how hot his thigh feels pressed between your legs. You want him so bad.

He pulls you in, big hand spanning across your arched back, pressing you to him.

When his lips meet yours, you go a little weak in the knees.

You fight it at first, hands curling into fists against his chest, trying to turn your head away, but you can't fight the desire any longer.

You give in.

“And cut!”

Christoph pulls away, panting. Your chest heaves a little as you shakily pull air into your lungs, looking at the way your hand is still pressed against his chest.

“That was perfect,” Quentin praises, a wide smile taking up his face. “One more take, and I think we've got it.”

He comes up to the both of you, Christoph still holding you, albeit softer.

“Now, Y/N, the struggling was great, but maybe kick your feet out just a little. Really try to get away from this guy, but then, after a few seconds, sink into it like you did just then.” Quentin directs, and you nod, pushing a lock of hair out of your eyes.

“Christoph, don't be afraid to just-” Quentin makes a quick grabbing motion with his hands. “Latch onto her, really grab her.”

Christoph runs his hand down your back, and you can't tell whether it's intentional or not, but it makes you shiver anyway.

As Quentin walks away, Christoph turns his attention to you.

“I'm not hurting you, am I?”

You give him a reassuring smile, ignoring the way your heart does somersaults in your chest.

“No, I'm okay.” You say, and he smiles down at you.

“Tough girl,” He says, and you fight the urge to bite your lip. His gaze turns serious, business like. “You can really push back for me, I can handle it.”

You nod, blushing a little at the double meaning his words conjur. Soon enough, Quentin is calling action, and the two of you are back at it.

After the last take, Christoph and you are left on set together while the crew packs up, Quentin looking over the footage a few feet away.

Christoph slicks back his hair, watching you lean against the desk, kicking your shoes off idlily.

“Would you like to have dinner with me this evening, Y/N?”

The question is sudden, out of the blue. You look up quickly, and your suprise must show on your face because Christoph begins to explain himself.

“To discuss the scene, if you'd like.” He says, looking a little sheepish. It's so uncharacteristic of him that you don't think twice before saying yes.

“I'd love to.” You say, beaming at him.

The smile he gifts you with makes your heart flutter wildly in your chest.

That night, you meet at Christoph's hotel room. The suite is huge, yet not overly extravagant. It suits him well, you think, as he lets you in.

“You'll have to forgive me for running a little behind.” He apologizes as he fixes his jacket.

“That's alright.” You tell him, sending him a small smile.

He's wearing a simple black blazer over a white linen shirt, black slacks to match. Christoph is clean-shaven, and his hair is immaculate as always.

It takes everything in you not to drool.

He seems to be thinking the same thing because he's stuck staring at you, lips slightly parted.

“You look lovely.” He breathes.

It takes you by suprise, pink dusting your cheeks.

“I could say the same about you,” you respond, cheeky.

Christoph smiles, lips pulling back to reveal pearly white teeth.

“You flatter me.” He jokes, moving towards the door.

“This hotel has a wonderful restaurant at ground level, I think you'll enjoy it.”

You do, as a matter of fact. The red wine Christoph order's is delicious, paired with some kind of salmon dish you can't pronounce.

The whole dinner is spent laughing, bantering back and forth, and listening to Christoph’s many stories.

“I really can't remember why I did that particular film,” He's explaining, setting his empty wine glass down. “To tell you the truth, I was probably hard pressed for money at the time.”

He had shed his blazer twenty minutes ago, left in the white linen shirt that looked so, so good on him.

You press the tips of your fingers to your lips, giggling a little. The wine has begun to go to your head, making you feel light and airy.

“Well, we've all made desperate acting decisions.” You joke, your foot accidentally nudging his under the table.

Christoph looks at you, a soft smile on his face and an unreadable glint in his eye.

“Have we?” He asks, raising a brow.

You blush, sitting back in your chair and sipping the last of your wine.

“I mean, I was in these terrible short films during college, I'm sure Quentin can tell you all about them.”

Christoph surprises you by leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table.

“Tell me about these short films.” The way he enunciates the last two words makes you shiver a little, and you hope he doesn't notice. “Been in anything I would have seen?”

That startles a laugh from you, and deciding to match his energy, you too lean forward, propping your chin in your hand.

“I hope not.” You say, smiling wide as you look into his eyes.

They're so pretty. Christoph has this warm, comforting aura to him that you can't really explain.

You've seen him in American interviews, how he's often described as cold- his dry wit lost on the likes of Jimmy Fallon and Kimmel- but you can't imagine those people are describing the man currently sitting in front of you.

He laughs.

“Come on, I've told you about that embarrassing German television spot I did. You owe me.”

You bite your lip, looking down at the tablecloth before deciding on a story.

“You want to hear about my very first on-screen kiss?”

You wiggle your brows, watching as Christoph nods.

“I was twenty-two, and it was some student film Quentin had roped me into.” You sigh, thinking back on the film.

It wasn't very good - shakily filmed, poorly acted, and the worst part was the kiss.

You shudder at the thought.

“I don't think this guy had ever even touched a woman, let alone kiss one.” You say, Christoph huffing a laugh as you continue. “I swear to you, he leaned in, misjudged how close my lips were, and licked my chin!”

Christoph laughs along with you, shaking his head.

“God, what a nightmare.” He says, and you feel him gently tap your heeled foot. You furrow your brow, still smiling.

“You know, Y/N, you're an excellent kisser.”

Christoph catches you off guard, and you find yourself a little breathless.

“And you blush so prettily, my God.”

Now you're really looking at him, at the way his eyes are fixed on your parted lips, how his left hand is lying face up and empty on the table.

Is this really happening? You think.

With only a slight bit of hesitance, you reach forward, the tips of your fingers grazing his.

It's all the permission he needs.

Christoph takes your hand in his, turning it so he can trace your palm with his thumb. His hand is warm, strong against your smaller, softer palm.

You bite your lip, looking at him through your lashes.

“You know, when we first met, I felt like a dirty old man.” Christoph says, tone soft yet playful.

“Here's this beautiful woman, half my age, and I get to ravish her for the camera.”

He lifts your hand, intertwining your fingers with his.

“You don't know how many times I've thought about that kiss.”

It's a confession, something that makes your breath hitch and your eyes lock onto his.

“Christoph,” You begin, shocked.

Christoph is looking at you, so sincerely, your heart aches.

“If I'm misreading this, please, tell me now.”

Christoph has been the object of your desire for weeks now, working with him day in and out a specific sort of torture you can't begin to explain.

Of course you want him.

You squeeze his hand.

“Will you take me back to your room?”

Christoph grins, something salacious in it that makes you want to kiss it off of him.

He takes the hand he's holding to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it.

“Lead the way, liebling.”

*

*

*

Christoph has you up against the hotel room door, your dress pushed up over your thighs as he kisses you deeply.

You've never been with a man who kisses like Christoph does - with complete, sure confidence and finesse. It makes your insides hot and melt-y feeling, leaving you desperate for more.

Your hands clench into his white shirt, desperation filling all of your senses.

You want him so bad.

He pulls away slightly, eyes dark as he looks at the mess he's made of you.

“You'll let me have you, angel?” He asks, and you nod, eyes big as they take in the sight of him.

“Yeah?” He asks again, a slow, easy smile on his face.

“Yes.” You breathe.

He kisses you once, twice, three times before turning your body from the door, backing you up towards the bed.

“I've wanted to feel you for so long, beautiful girl.”

You pull the straps of your dress down, nipples hard in the cool air.

His eyes are immediately drawn to them, thumbs coming up to stoke at your nipples, the pads of them warm against your skin.

“Christoph,” you sigh, leaning up to kiss him again, one hand coming to tangle in his hair.

When you break for air, you move to slide your dress down your body, leaving in the black panties you had picked out for this occasion.

Christoph runs his hands down your body, eyes piercing as they take you in.

“God help me,” He mutters before leaning in, pressing you into the expensive hotel sheets.

You gasp, your naked back hitting the mattress with a surprising amount of force. You look up through your lashes at Christoph, who is leaning above you, undoing his belt hastily. You smirk, your hands sliding up his thighs and helping him with his fly.

“You wanna fuck me?” You tease, breathless.

Christoph swallows, his movement's slowing as he looks down at you.

“Liebling, fucking is for insolent, foolish boys.” He finally gets his pants down, boxers following soon after. Christoph leans down, and you think he's going to kiss you, but instead his lips find your ear.

“I'm going to make love to you, and believe me, you'll be thinking of me for weeks to come after I'm through with you.”

You feel yourself getting wet at his words, the promise of his dick finally getting inside of you, making you easy for it. Your legs fall open, Christoph making a home between them.

His face finds your neck, planting sweet, wet kisses to the skin there.

You want him inside you so badly, and you tell him as much, back arching when his fingers find your cunt.

“So soft, my beautiful girl,” He mutters, breathless as he rubs at your clit.

You close your eyes, hands scrabbling at his back.

“I want you, Christoph, please,” you beg, shameless.

He kisses you, silencing you. You get lost in the feeling of his hand on you, his lips devouring every moan and gasp he draws from you.

You huff, eyebrows furrowing as he rubs faster and faster on your clit.

“Oh my God-” You manage to gasp out, thighs clenching around his arm as you come.

Christoph works you through it relentlessly.

“There she is, that's my good girl. That's it.” He groans, forehead pressed to yours.

You whine, arching away from his fingers as the stimulation becomes too much.

“Please fuck me, please Christoph.”

He smiles, eyes meeting yours.

“I love the way you say my name.”

The two of you maintain eye contact as he enters you, agonizingly slow. You watch the way his breath catches, how his eyes flutter shut when his hips meet yours. That overwhelming, satisfying fullness makes you moan softly, hands gripping him close.

“You feel so good,” you tell him, all sorts of feelings bubbling up in you.

He rocks forward, hips meeting yours lovingly as he carves a home for himself in You.

Your eyes fall shut, head tilting back, and he sucks wet, lust filled kisses onto your neck.

The pace quickens, the headboard hitting the wall as you both grow frantic.

“You're going to come for me again, my angel, my pretty girl,” He pants, a hand coming up to brush your sweaty hair from your face. His palm is warm, and you tilt your head to kiss it.

“Yes,” your breath, hot, bubbling pleasure threatening to spill over you. “Make me come, please, please, Christoph-"

He groans, burying his face in your neck.

You wrap your legs around his back, wanting to keep him close, and the pleasure builds higher, higher, then-

“Fuck!”

You throw your head back, eyes closed and mouth agape as your second orgasm of the night overtakes you.

“Jesus, ich sterbe,” He groans, low and heady as he pumps you full of his come.

Christoph's hips stutter as your walls flutter around him, beckoning him further.

You hold him close to you as he rides out his orgasm, kissing his forehead.

Sighing and spent, he rests on top of you. You run your fingers through his hair, legs shaking as they unwrap from around his waist.

“Stay with me?” He asks quietly.

You put a hand under his chin, lifting it so your eye level.

You kiss him gently.

“I wouldn't want to be anywhere else.”

[threepandas]

Bad End, Hidden Heir: Part 2

Prev <-

A pounding headache and cave air, that's what I woke up too. The air was being choked, though, by familiar scents. All trying desperately to make the cold, wet, and softly echoing quiet, hospitable. It was nauseating in my current state. Weak and... drugged? Had I been drugged? I certainly hadn't been drunk.

So why did my head hurt so much?

Why did every motion, make my stomach want to rebel?

My limbs felt so WEAK. Heavy and useless. Barely budging when I try to lift them. To rub my head? Adjust the blanket? Sit up? I can't tell. Thinking... thinking is so hard past... the pounding in my head. The fog. I struggle to concentrate. God, that SMELL.

Like a perfume store combined with... with... ugh. Everything!

I could pick out individual scents I knew I liked, on their own, added to the nauseating chaos. My favorite potpourri was there. But so was the one I like for winter? Fall? That one I liked as a kid until I found Mrs. Tianna's blend...

And perfumes! Colognes! The clean products and scents I preferred the maids used. God it... it blended together like a trash heap. As though someone drove a carriage through a perfume shop at speed. Cloying and musk and spice and fruity and-!

I sucked air through my teeth, trying not to smell it, hoping to god I wouldn't TASTE it.

Finally I managed to pry my eyes open. Either hunger or thirst giving my the strength to push past the nauseating pain. I NEEDED to move. Find out what was happening. Survive.

My gaze... met the most elaborate embroidery I had ever seen. Tapestries had less art. Almost to the point of gaudiness. Possibly past it. It was...

It was everything I had ever said I liked.

Too anyone.

Puppies and flowers, history and art, books scenes and more. It kept GOING! Hideous and magnificent. Chaos. Unhinged. Flowing down from above me, along the rest of the curtains, for the canopy bed upon which I rest. So I would be surrounded by it all. Even the blanket... it was a sea of my favorite flowers, made eternal through string.

This wasn't something people just DID. Could just FIND. I could feel my panic under the muting pain and exhaustion. This was the work of YEARS. Obsessive, continuous, YEARS. Some of these threads cost more then certain house hold make in WEEKS! And for what? A secret canopy bed?!

I struggled, body barely able to obey me but trying desperately to assist. The blankets were heavy. The curtain around the bed equally so, thanks to all the embroidery. I.. I manage to roll. Squirm. Wriggle my way, undignified, to the edge. Flop over it and out from under the blanket. Too freedom.

The air is cold.

The scents WORSE out here. Now, I can see why.

It is a museum to all that I am. Every like carefully gathered in one place, every preference. Stacked and shoved together, with no regard for if they fit. Hoarded like a collection.

I can not even tell... if I am sitting, flopped down, on my favorite winter bedside carpet or just an exact copy. My entire life is shoved together and suddenly... suddenly I do not like any of these things at all. They feel dirty. Dangerous. Like they have betrayed me. I want to cry.

But I am nauseous. Hurting. Tired and thirsty. So very hungry dispite it all. I just... I just need to know what's going ON! This isn't... this isn't how the Game goes! Not for Protag-chan. Not for me! I know I changed my "character's" behavior... but...

I... I don't understand...

Try not to cry. It's... it's really hard.

I was right. I'm pretty sure this is the Caves of Spring in the northwest of the Duchy. The offical Heir has an estate near them. The stone looks like the cliffs I'd seen in passing.

Crawling is hard. My legs keep getting tangled in my fucking nightgown. My... my f.. favorite.. nightgown! I'm not gonna cry. Damn it. I'm NOT GONNA CRY. How dare he? How DARE he ruin even that? What did he DO to me!? When I was... was...

No, don't think about it!

Move.

A decanter. Needlessly pretty. I probably loved it as a girl, fresh into this world. Everything was so FANCY and I wasn't used to having money yet. Hadn't developed any real class or taste. It looks so fucking gaudy to me now. But God, it has water. Please... PLEASE let that be water!

I drag myself up on badly shaking limbs. Nothing wants to hold. Wrists buckling, knees giving, legs shaking like a new born lamb. My arms are so weak. But thirst... oh thirst is a powerful motivator.

I force myself to move.

The water is not enough. It is everything. Cold and perfect, I force myself to go slow. To not spill a single drop, as I collapse against the dresser it was placed upon. Letting my eyes explore my cage in the way my poor abused body can not.

There are thick bars buried deep into the bedrock, separating the "room" I'm in from the hall that leads away from it. And it IS a "room". Made in cruel mockery to resemble the luxury of the dukes estate. Perhaps even more aggressively decadent in certain aspects, though that isn't a good thing. It makes it border on a storage room, for how crowded with luxury it has become.

It is the reflection of an unwell mind.

And staring up at the portraits of myself I KNOW I never sat for? The countless sketches pinned up beyond the bars? I am in trouble. I... I should have run. Not sent Creep away. I should have been the one to run. Before it was too late.

I think... I think it might be too late.

Footsteps.

I want to escape. But where can I run? I am caged. I feel close and far away. My head hurts. My body hurts. Everything stinks and I am cold. Why? Why did you do this? The foot steps are calm and commanding. Even. They do not break stride.

I do not bother to watch my hunter approach me. The monster I can not escape.

I close my eyes to spare myself the pounding in my head. Drink more water.

He makes a softly dismayed sound, as though he was not the one to drug me, to leave me here. The door to my cage opens. Closes. Ah... such a heavy lock. Should I be flattered?

Crisp steps, the rustle of fabric.

"My lady, the floor is so dirty! You shouldn't be out of bed yet. I was just about to make you tea."

The AUDACITY.

Tea? TEA! Ha ha! After DRUGGING my tea? He actually expects me to accept a cup from him again?! He truely IS insane, isn't he?

I am scooped up without my consent, unable to so much a truely struggle. Placed gently on a plush chair, a tea table moved in front of me. A familiar cup. My favorite blend. Pretty little snacks laid out deftly on lovely little plates. I grit my teeth. Slowly tip my head up to glare.

He pauses when our eye meet... then shudders, some terrible look of pleasure dancing across his face.

"That's right... look at me~" he whispers, leaning entirely too close. "I'm all that you have now. So you'll HAVE too now! No more others. No more distractions. No more sending me away! People trying to get between us. Trying to take you away. I'm all that you need, My Lady. All you'll EVER need."

"Just look at ME, your loyal dog. And I'll take such good care of you. I promise~♡"

[ilovetoxicfictionalmen]

REWIND AND PLAY

PART 1

Pairing.| Neil Lewis x fem!reader

Story Summary.| Neil Lewis runs a small, struggling video store, his life playing out like one of the many classic films he rents out to customers, predictable and unremarkable. When his high school crush, you, return to town, Neil sees the opportunity to step out of the background and pursue the love interest he's only dreamed of. As you reconnect, Neil discovers that your life is far from the glossy rom-com he imagined. Behind the scenes, you're battling your own off-screen struggles. In trying to win your heart, Neil realises that the real motive isn't about capturing your attention, but about rewriting his own story, learning to take risks and embrace change, both in love and life.

Chapter Summary.| Neil’s life of routine is thrown out of place as you, the girl of his dreams, appear into Gumshoe on a random Tuesday. But your arrival isn’t as joyful as Neil initially believes, a tragedy had brought you back to your past. Stuck questioning if this is a mere coincidence or a moment of fate, Neil relies on Jonathan to boost his struggling esteem and take the chance he was too afraid to take in high school.

Chapter Warnings.| Angst, family death, insecurity, poor self esteem, unrequited love.

Word count.| 9.3k+

Notes.| And here is the first chapter. Not properly edited because if I did that than I'd never post it. Please, if you want me to continue this let me know by sharing your thoughts. This chapter really is an opening to who Neil is.

i.

Neil believed he lived a satisfying life. 

Well, yes, he never went to college and had no desire to travel the world, let alone step out of his comfort zone. There was no inner drive to ride a white horse in hopes of finding a princess in a tower. Never had he ever wanted to find himself by travelling to a foreign village and taking on an expedition that would give his life a new purpose. 

He didn’t need complexity in his life, he was happy right where he was. His romantic relationships were never designed to be everlasting, just to help pass the time really, to fill the void hidden behind his wide grin. There was this orb rattling inside of him, keeping him on edge of staying committed to someone. But that was fine, he never gave it a second thought, he needed no breathtaking love interest in his life. He had his friends, his store and his movies. That was all he needed to be fulfilled with himself. 

Right? 

Neil Lewis was a man of routine. He enjoyed his life to be similar to a story structure. Everyday had to have a beginning, middle and end. To which he had already planned out with how everything would unfold. His life was best experienced through films, he lived for them. Which was quite contradicting as he never wanted to live a day full of daring excitement, just like the movies. 

The world was a scary place, the future even more frightening. Living a day to day life where he knew what he could keep control of was safer. The expectations were always achievable, the simple satisfaction never dwelling. It was almost as if he wrapped himself in bubble wrap, keeping him safe from dangers of getting his feelings hurt, or even worse, falling in love. 

It was always easier to seek comfort in familiar environments. Over the years, he built a tendency around his routines. Whether it was working or diving into his collection of classic films, he found his solace in routines and escapism through cinema. His love for film showed his desire for a structured in depth narratives where it all clicked together right before the credits rolled. 

A distinct contrast towards his own disordered, unsatisfying life. But he’d refuse to ever see it that way. Because he was happy with where he was, he had all that he ever needed. Unfortunately needs are not always wants. 

Neil’s day began like no other, his slim body spread across the bed, shaggy hair a complete mess as he groaned towards the ringing alarm clock. Smacking it quiet, he crawled out of bed, stretching his stiff limbs as his mind still tried to wake up from his blissful dream. 

He smiled whilst brushing his teeth, humming a tune and grooving his body to the rhythm.Slipping on another oversized cream top, tucking his soft brunette waves behind his ears, he stared at himself in the mirror, failing to realise how effortless he always looked. He brushed aside any sprouting thoughts, balling his fists into his jean pockets as he walked out of his bathroom. He put on his jacket and left for work, right on time. 

There was always a lingering sense of loneliness in Gumshoe. Despite it being his safe place, he couldn’t help but to feel a pang of dread as he unlocked the door. The silence was thick, air still as he stood in the middle of the room. Tucking his hair behind his ears once more, Neil stretched out before rubbing his palms together. The room felt awfully cold this morning. 

But he smiled at his life accomplishment, his sanctuary open for all. Every DVD, tape, magazine, poster and neon sign displayed his passion in a new form. But the congested, overcrowding of it all also showed something he often turned a blind eye to. The disoriented, overwhelming emotions he often ignored. 

The store smelt gritty and weathered, created by a mixture of coffee, popcorn, old leather and cheap cologne. His fingers brushed over the shelves of DVD’s, singing a song to himself as he opened the draw of the empty, old cash register. He unlocked the safe and stuffed in a hundred dollars worth of notes, he never needed much. 

His work day begins like no other, slow. 

The first hour of his shift was always spent taking care of the small tasks, making sure everything looks organised and preparing how he can put together a new promotion to boost some sales. He chucked on ‘The Apartment’ in the DVD player to help pass the time. 

Jonathan came in late, he was always late on Tuesday. It’s not like Neil even needed much help running this joint. He more so just preferred the company, it was always isolated without someone around, with a film on or not. Being able to lounge around and talk about everything cinema related helped the day move forward. 

“Hey! You know if you want customers it’d be smart to flip the sign to open, right?” Jonathan laughed as he flicked the door sign around. 

Neil forgot the simple things. 

“Perhaps I was trying to keep you out” Neil chuckled, and raised his shoulders. 

Jonathan dropped his belongings down behind the counter and stretched. Another day in the office. A couple of regulars came in, and he chatted about their lives. The register cha chinged as he said his polite farewells.

“Want coffee?” He asked, looking around the deserted room. 

“We have coffee here” Neil countered through a chime. 

“I mean real coffee Neil, not that instant bullshit” Jonathan snorted, tapping his fingers on the counter. 

“Yeah, alright, it’s your round isn’t it?” Neil recalled. Neil hummed, pulling a book out from under the counter and searched the page he was last at. 

“Yep, you cheap bastard” Jonathan laughed, heading straight out the door. 

Returning his gaze towards his book, he found peace in the dialogue from the television, his mind drifting off into fantasy once more. 

The door chimed, but his mind was still too invested in his book to process a potential new buying customer yet. The regulars knew their way around. Too many people walked in and asked where the latest blockbuster was. It was irritating with how no one could read the posters, let alone have common sense.

Lifting his head up finally, his eyes peeled open with curiosity. A feminine back pointed in his direction, familiar hands running over the variety of classics. Taking in every different shelf on the path, admiring the posters on the coloured walls. A set of hands he found himself studying all of those years ago. Without realising, his heartbeat increased. Tilting his head and bending his neck in hopes of catching a glance at the customer, had his upper body leaning forward and feet dragging over the flooring. 

A sense of knowing ran through him. A blurred memory appeared behind his eyes. That hair, he’d seen a million times, dreamt of it. Those ears, the width of that neck and length of those exemplary limbs. His thoughts numbed as he wandered towards the enigma of a woman. 

Was this another dream? A figment of his imagination, or just a coincidence towards his past. It began to feel almost like deja vu. His tailing figure went unnoticed. Eventually, he decided to speak to break down his suspicions. To prove to himself that this was another lost woman looking for a Michael Bay film. 

“Welcome to Gumshoe, can I help-” 

As you turned around, that same gentle smile on your lips, his body went into shock and throat clogged up. Stammering out his words, he was completely caught off guard, his heart pounding in his chest like it’s been juiced with drugs. His wide eyes watched you intensely, coming to terms that it really was you. 

You’re older now, obviously, but there’s still that familiar confident look in you. The one that gave him butterflies in his stomach down the school halls. You’re dressed casually, just in beige linen pants and a white sweater. But there's an air of maturity around you now. Not to mention how you were still as beautiful as ever. 

Noticing him quickly, your smile turned more cheeky as you stepped towards him. “Neil Lewis? It’s been a while” you hesitated, but your tone was still full of sureness. 

It’s only been almost seven years. This was never meant to happen, he felt like he’d be dropped into the middle of the battleground. The same girl who had been out of reach, the girl whose name he used to say in his head like a secret, was standing right in front of him, completely focused on him. Never did he think he’d see you again. He tried to remain cool, but the words trip him up, and he’s left stammering. 

“Hey, you…” Neil fumbles, awkwardly waving his hands in your direction. 

Fuck!

“You never left town?” you wondered, tilting your head slightly, acknowledging how time has aged him. 

His tousled hair was still shaggy and grown out. That metabolism of his continued to remain hidden underneath oversized clothing. Those blue eyes still shined in the sunlight it seemed. 

“Uhhhh, yeah no. Someone has to hold down the fort” he laughed it off, crossing his arms over his chest. 

He already felt his skin fluster up, his throat blocked and beads of sweat form. His baggy shirt felt tight around his neck. 

“Well, I’m glad to see it’s you” you replied, a softness in your eyes. “And not someone like Jonathan Drag” you giggled, swaying your left leg around, seemingly anxiously. “Just kidding, you’re probably still friends, right?” You asked. 

“Works here actually” he almost whispered, mouth completely dry. It made you snort at the chances. 

The weight of your history fell heavy on him. As if there was ever really much, but it was both nostalgic and awkward to think about. A massive question mark floated over your head. What were you doing back in town? His volume raised suddenly. 

“What brings you here!” he asked, rubbing his hands together as his body swayed. “I hope you’re not after the latest rom com” he laughed, a bit too excessively. 

“No, no, no” you ensured, your hands tightening around a small worn out journal in your hand. His eyes narrowed at the book, your eyes wandering around nervously. “I went to Media Giant in hopes of finding some films, but you know, they only have the latest rom coms and exploding blockbusters now don’t they?” you bantered.  

“Tell me about it” Neil breathed, smiling at how there was still that mutual understanding between one another. 

“Searched this place up and well, here I am” you explained yourself, admiring the environment around you. “Do you just work here, or?” you trailed. 

“I own it, I own it” he repeated, holding onto some pride, in hopes to get some praise. A complimenting hum rumbled through your throat. 

“I should have known you’d be here, you always were a nerd” you winked. 

“The term is geek” he countered, leaning himself back up against the bench. “Well, actually it's cinephile. But I’ll settle for a geek” he nodded, a soft smile on his lips. 

“Okay, geek” you settled, that sparkle still in your eyes. 

The silence grew loud, Neil knew that’d he’d lose himself in your eyes still after all of these years. He had to say something before his thoughts spoke louder than words. 

“How long have you been in town for?”

“Just over a week” you replied, your tone dropping slightly, eyes narrowing a bit more and smile fading. 

“Oh rad! You enjoying it?” Neil asked, oblivious to your facial hints. Still in a state of awe that you’d come home. 

“No, honestly” you answered suddenly and blankly, before you could even think. 

“Oh-”

“Sorry, I'm making everything so negative” you apologised instantly, only now realising your words. “It’s just that my dad passed away recently and I’m staying in town until I sort out his belongings and sell the house. It’s all under my name now” you explained yourself. 

There was a look of dread on you, from this extra weight sitting on your back. You were a single child, with little family from your father’s side. Neil’s heart fell despite your expression looking unphased of the major passing in your life. 

“I’m so sorry-” 

Immediately, you dismissed his condolences with a wave of your hand, your features sterning. “No, we weren’t even close, remember?” you assured, dipping your toes into your past together. Staring into his wide eyes, you blinked and reflected from those many years ago. “Sorry, it’s been like seven years of course you don’t-” 

“I remember you saying it- Briefly” Neil cutted in, as he lowered his voice at the end.

Your words hurt, not that they were meant with cruel intention. The reminder that you were never that close hurt. A feeling that had numbed over the years. 

But he always couldn’t forget the pain he felt when he passed you and your father after school once. He was shouting at you on the porch, pointing his finger in your face. Silently, he walked with you for hours. He kept you company as the night grew cold. You hugged him tightly and only said one thing, “I fucking hate him”.

“It’s okay. My mom came for the funeral, and now it’s just me” you pointed out, the awkwardness growing on your tongue. Your hands rubbing against one another. 

“So, what brings you here exactly?” Neil changed the subject, the negative tone of conversation feeling intimidating after seeing you again from so long. 

“Right, of course” you nodded. “I was going through his stuff and found this” you wave the worn out journal. “I remember him always watching an old film, as a kid I was bored out of my mind. I only wanted to watch cartoons but had no other choice. If his movie was on, well I wouldn’t get a word out of him until it was over” you told him, a mixture of happiness and sadness in your eyes. 

Neil nodded, all ears. 

“He was a little movie critic, it seems. Kept track on what films he watched, left notes and what not. He only had a handful at home, I’ve watched them all already. But there’s like hundreds in here and I just want to, I don’t know. Never understood them, thought maybe I could now” you explained, unsure with your own words if your intentions made sense. 

“Oh, wow that’s cool, well he must have had great taste! I’m sure I’ve had at least a dozen films in here, just let me know what you wanna watch” he replied, eager to help you up. 

“Can you help me Neil?” you asked, unsurely. 

“Of course” Neil breathed, leaning closer to you. “Do you mind?” he said softly, his hand unsure if it was reaching out for you or the book. 

His fingertips brushed over your hand as he grabbed the book. The sparks of electricity spiked down his skin, his Adam's apple bobbed. Opening the book, he read through the small pages full of black ink. A gentle smile on his lips as he read the opinions your father had. 

“How about, ‘What Ever Happened To Baby Jane?’, hey?” Neil decided after flicking through a couple of pages. 

“Sounds great” you agreed. 

You followed him to the correct aisle, he truly knew this place inside out. Pulling out the tape, he tapped the cover a couple of times as he bee lined towards the counter. Placing the journal flat onto the counter and tapped his fingers over the tape. 

“You got a VCR?” Neil asked, earning a nod from you. “It’s just four dollars” he mumbled, turning red that he’s even charging you. 

You slipped out a five dollar bill from your purse and waved it in his direction. “Keep the change” you smirked. Smiling foolishly, he slid the crinkled note into the draw and pushed it shut. 

“I just need your ID or credit card to sign you up for a membership- Oh, nevermind, I trust you’ll bring it back” Neil stopped himself, an urge to look cool in front of you. Your smirk grew with mischief as you took the tape from his hands without permission. 

“I don’t know Neil, I might have a high bid for this classic. You know how much these go for these days?” you hummed, your tongue rolling between your lips. 

He felt his chest tighten, those teenage hormones of his waking up from a long slumber. A sudden wave of confidence washed over him, he dropped his weight onto his elbows, leaning forward. 

“Ah, well I better warn you that I have men lurking around these activities. I own this town now, and these films, they’re purely addictive and exhilarating. I’ll know if my products are being distributed under my nose and well, there are prices to be paid for it” he spoke slowly, his eyes daring you to make a risky move. 

You hummed, leaning closer towards him, your eyes scanning around his features. Neil wasn’t breathing, but he didn’t care as he watched your daring eyes. 

“Well, guess we’ll find out tomorrow” you whispered, drawing your lips close to his. 

Suddenly, you fell back onto your heels and spun towards the door. Neil watched stunned as you headed towards the exit. 

“See you then geek!” you called out, the bell ringing as you departed Gumshoe. 

Were you two just flirting? 

He hurried to the door, pressing his hands next to his head as he watched you walk down the pathway. Jonathan walked past you, two cups of coffee in his hands. As you waved towards him, he smirked but gave you a double look as you passed him. 

Neil stepped back and heaved, keeping his hands on his hips as he had no words in his mouth. Entering the store, Jonathan had a shocked look on him.

“Holy shit! Was that who I think it was?” Jonathan gasped, looking out the window one last time. 

“It was” Neil said breathlessly, still in shock over the encounter. 

“What is she doing back in town?” He questioned curiously. 

“U-uh… Her dad passed away so she’s just-” he murmured, his mind playing over your encounter together. 

“Shit, are you okay? You always had a huge crush on her” Jonathan recalled, a growing smug smirk on his lips. 

“Yeah, yeah… I’m fine, just uh, don’t worry about coming in tomorrow, I’ll do it” Neil ordered suddenly, nodding his head as he decided with his thoughts. He couldn’t risk not seeing you, couldn’t risk having others around when he did see you. 

Jonathan frowned and stepped closer towards him. 

“What? You have the first half, you wanna swap?” Jonathan asked, completely confused. Instantly Neil waved his hands in the air. 

“Nah, nah. I’ll do both, don’t worry. I’ll still pay you” he bargained, avoiding eye contact with Jonathan. 

Jonathan sighed his name as he handed him his coffee. Neil gracefully took the hot drink, took a large gulp despite the temperature of it and suddenly started reorganising the tapes in front of him. Jonathan shook his hand and waved his hand in Neil’s face, which went ignored. 

“Neil!” Jonathan shouted. 

“Yeah, what?” Neil frowned, looking over towards him. 

“What did she say to you?” Jonathan narrowed his eyes. 

“Nothing, nothing” Neil reassured, laughing a bit too awkwardly afterwards. 

You never said anything out of the ordinary. It was always just the feelings that came as baggage with it. The way your words lingered in his mind, the picture of your smile on the projector inside his head. You were still as perfect as he remembered. 

“Are you sure? You’re turning into a human tomato, and that’s one hell of a bulge” Jonathan pointed out, wiggling his brows, his eyes below Neil’s waist.

Dropping his head down, Neil cursed and covered his unexpected friend. Now he truly turned beet red. 

“Oh, piss off Jonathan!” Neil waved Jonathan away. 

Jonathan snorted and plopped himself onto the comfy couch, relaxing his body as he sipped his drink. As Neil walked back to the counter, he picked up your father’s journal, his eyes widening. Had you forgotten to ask for it back? Or was it a promise that you would come back tomorrow, your unique version of a video tape deposit. 

ii. 

Neil left early that day, coming up with a silly excuse to get Lucien to watch until close. There was no real reason to leave Gumshoe, Neil just couldn’t think about anything and it was driving him insane. His friends' booming voices started to hurt his ears. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to think about, whether it was about you, or not? You were on his mind the whole day, yet you weren’t. By the time the afternoon came, it was deep in his skin. Everything that he had felt for you in the past was resurfacing like a toothache. 

Chugging down an over-expensive, sugary so called sports drink, Neil found himself standing outside of the local gym. What was this sudden desire to impress you? Had it been how you aged so beautifully yet he stayed the same, or even worse. Thoughts about how he never did put on muscle mass floated in his mind. You always had a buff boy following behind you. Dated the baseball star throughout almost all of senior year too…

Wanna go gym? - Neil, 6:33pm

The fuck? - Jonathan, 6:34pm

As Neil began typing, he hummed and fiddled with his thumbs. His lower lip trapped between his nervous teeth. 

You know, to workout or what not. - Neil, 6:34pm

And where has this sudden desire stemmed from? - Jonathan, 6:35pm

Is that a no? - Neil, 6:35pm

Yep - Jonathan, 6:35pm

The receptionist easily persuaded him to buy a membership, his mind still bewildered by your arrival. By the time he signed the papers and handed over his credit card, his body was pumping with caffeine, pins prickling under his skin. 

Walking into the wide, open, body odour stenched room, Neil suddenly felt like a mouse amongst lions. All of these large stones of mass pushed and pulled against heavy weights. Booming voices echoing all around him. Fit people doing a marathon on the treadmills. No one was even staring at him, but he felt completely nude. 

“Shit” Neil whispered, his throat dry. 

Standing there like an idiot for what felt like hours, Neil turned his heel and walked straight out of the gym, the sun now setting. He’d have to convince Jonathan or someone to go with him another day. So he couldn’t make more of an imbecile out of himself. Or maybe he could start running again, or actually show up to softball practice.      

That night was sleepless for him. Neil laid for hours, staring blankly at his ceiling as his buried thoughts came to life. He feared that he had already boarded the train of doom. All he’d do is get his hopes up, like he always did in high school. 

The lamp lit up, Neil exhaled as he picked up your father’s journal. Why did he even take this home with him? A part of him felt like a thief, a bigger part of him just felt confused and desperate for closure of his own. Not that he was even sure how he’d gain some kind of closure, hopefully just a bit more understanding of your father so he could help you. Like you wanted more help than movie recommendations. 

All of these films' brief analysis’ were similar to Neil’s. He’d compliment the cinematography, acting and plot twists almost the same way Neil would. But it was the personal reflections for some of these that made Neil uneased with his own ways of life. 

The Graduate - 1967, directed by Mike Nichols

Maybe I waited too long. Sometimes you think you have all the time in the world, and then, just like that, it’s gone. I don’t want to end up like Benjamin, fumbling through life with regrets.

The Killers - 1946, directed by Robert Siodmak

I’ve always thought it was too late, that some things are just meant to stay in the past. But maybe I’m wrong. Maybe this is the moment I’ve been waiting for, even if I don’t feel ready for it.

Rear Window - 1954, directed by Alfred Hitchcock

I’ve spent so long watching life from the sidelines. It’s easier to stay in the comfort of my own home, to observe without getting involved. But maybe that’s the problem. What if I’m just too afraid to be part of the story?

Neil slammed the journal shut, a few of the entries felt a bit too relatable, almost like a call out. The connection was a bit too strong to your father, this wasn’t what he was expecting at all. Gently placing it back onto the bedside table, the light clicked off and Neil laid silently once more. Eventually, he fell into a dreamless slumber that lingered on for what felt like weeks. 

The next day at Gumshoe was dreadfully slow and tortuous. By the time the clock ticked over to six, Neil felt his stomach drop. He wasn’t sure why he believed you’d float in as soon as he flipped the sign to open. Every time someone walked past his shoulders raised, quickly to slouch again. 

Jonathan and Lucien still came that day, despite Neil’s desperate pleas to stay away. Looking at his watch, Jonathan craned his neck back from the couch over to Neil, who still patiently waited by the counter. Neil wore one of his better, more tightly fit shirts today. Jonathan could have sworn there was a bit of gel in his hair. 

“Last hour Neil! What are the odds now Lucien?” Jonathan hummed. 

“Four to one, not in your favour Neil” Lucien stated, not removing his gaze from the screen. 

“Ah cram your odds up your asses” Neil muttered, his fingers tracing over the journal once more. 

As the clock drew closer to closing time, Neil lost all hope and fell onto the couch between his friends. At least ‘Nightmare Alley’ could ease his sorrows, to a degree. He laid his head back, his mind turning numb from the dialogue echoing through the store. 

The door silently opened, the bell unhearable over Lucien’s booming commentary. You walked in silently, tape in your hand as you approached them. “What are we watching?” you asked, leaning on the back of the couch, over Neil’s head.

His eyes widened, mouth fell open as he zipped onto his feet. Tugging down on his shirt, he smiled at you foolishly. “Hey! You made it, h-how was the film?” he spat out, his mouth running too quick for his brain to decide. “I mean, you weren’t able to sell it, hey?” Neil hummed, rubbing his hand over his chin as he tried to act cool. 

“My bidder pulled out last minute, he seemed horrified over the phone” you winked. You looked down to his friends, staring wide eyed at you. Waving towards them, they repaid the gesture. “No, it was intense. Baby Jane’s jealousy just consumed her, and you could feel how suffocating their relationship became. By the end, you realize it’s not just about who’s right or wrong, but how holding onto bitterness can tear you apart. Sometimes, when you don’t speak up, you wait too long—wondering if it’s already too late. You let things fester, thinking they’ll work themselves out, but they never do. Maybe we all end up like that... waiting for someone to notice, but never quite being seen” you explained, your mind drifting elsewhere momentarily. 

The contentment in Neil bubbled up. How could a film review sound so damn attractive? Even Jonathan and Lucien seemed invested in your insights. 

“Yeah, you end up holding onto things so long, you forget what it feels like to let them go. But I guess, by then, it’s hard to tell if you’re waiting for something... or just too afraid to make a move” Neil added on, walking behind the couch, closer to you. 

“Great point” you smiled. 

The eye contact felt compelling, Neil’s mouth ajar open as he admired your features once more. Breaking the moment, you held up the tape. Reluctantly, he took it and walked behind the counter. 

“You wanna rent another?” He asked softly. 

“I do, but I was actually on my way to Frankie’s Bar. Always wanted to go to school but you know, legal requirements” you made known, tapping your fingers on the wooden counter. 

“Oh, yeah that place is cool” Neil grinned, obvious to any potential hints. Jonathan and Lucien looked towards one another. 

“You close soon right?” you asked, your eyes looking up to the clock. 

“Yeah gotta lock the doors before everyone floods in” Neil snorted, gazing out to the empty street. 

Your mouth formed in ‘o’ shape as you leaned closer towards him, your hands firmly rested on the counter. Looking back towards his friends briefly, you smiled at him once more, gently, kindly. 

“Are you doing anything afterwards?” you asked subtly. 

Neil blinked, the adrenaline kick starting inside of him. Clawing his fingers on the wooden surface as some form of decision making, his eyes nervously darted to his friends, who stared with narrow eyes. 

“Uh-um, yeah we’re just gonna have an Indiana Jones marathon actually. We’ve been waiting for it all week” Neil laughed softly, pulling on his collar nervously. 

Jonathan and Lucien’s eyes widened with shock and disappointment. 

“Oh cool” you nodded, slightly stunned. 

Neil hesitated, wondering if taking it back was the smart decision. But the longer he thought over it, the deeper he dug his grave. The joy in your expression seemed to decrease. 

“You’re welcome to stay if you want” he tried to counter, scratching the back of his neck anxiously. 

“Oh no it’s algood, I’m seeing some school friends. I better be off, but I’ll drop by for another film. Take care of that journal for me, yeah?” you told him, pointing your finger in his direction as you headed towards the door. 

“Of course” he breathed, stunned and defeated. 

He’d waited all day for this, only for it to be a two minute conversation. All due to his shy mentality. He wanted to not overthink about his mess up, but he was always tumbling down the hill. You farewelled them all, and then you were gone. Immediately, Jonathan tossed a pillow at Neil. The soft object collided with his chest. 

“You fucking idiot!” Jonathan insulted, his anger showing through his red face. 

“What!” Neil shouted defensively, raising his hands in surrender. 

“She just fucking asked you out!” he continued on, standing up from the couch. 

“No she didn’t!” Neil denied, skin trembling from the possible truth. 

Even though the intentions were as clear as a glass window, Neil could always find a way to second guess things. Sometimes Neil wondered if he liked to be in denial to avoid complete dissatisfaction. Chance was a scary tool, he hated experimenting with possibilities that he couldn’t grasp onto. He had an inability to walk on an imaginary tightrope. 

“Yes she did you imbecile!” Lucien chimed in, shaking his head with a pout. 

“She’s meeting up with friends!” Neil extended his arms, expression completely flustered. Desperately trying to hold onto your words as a line of defense. 

“Yeah to cover up your rejection!” Jonathan hissed. 

“Oh shit! I don’t know! I just got scared! She said she was seeing friends, half of them were bullies!” Neil explained himself, feeling completely overwhelmed with himself. 

“Run out there and beg her to go out with you” Jonathan ordered, pointing his finger towards the door. 

“No, hell no” Neil shook his head quickly. 

“What’s the worst that could happen? Just say hey, I've been in love with you ever since high school and time is running out, so let’s get together and make cute babies” Lucien chuckled, shrugging his shoulders after Neil frowned at him.  

“I can’t tell her that, she’ll think I’m a creep” Neil huffed. 

“Oh no shit Neil!” Jonathan spat, throwing another pillow at him. 

Neil caught the pillow, and dropped his head as he walked back towards the couch. Dropping his body in shame, he held his head in the pillow. Jonathan patted his shoulder, slowly and harshly. 

“It’s alright, when she comes in tomorrow, ask to follow up on the bar” Lucien instructed, nodding at his friend. 

Nodding his head in agreement, Neil would redeem himself tomorrow. His chances felt like a cat with nine lives, actually eight now. 

iii.

You didn’t come in the next day. Or the day after that for a matter of fact. 

Neil was so hopeful you would, certain is the word he’d use. Did he upset you or embarrassed you in front of his friends? No, he wasn’t even worth that much. Which only made things worse, reminding himself of how little you actually meant to him. His only purpose was renting out movies to you. 

His hands traced over the journal as he sat on the couch, his mind doubtful as his friends talked around him. Every now and again he’d give a plain response, his mind miles away from his surroundings. They knew he was waiting for you, silently begging for you to walk through the door. There was nothing that could be done besides having patience. 

But through his doubtful mind, Neil had no more left in the tank. Maybe he’d just drop it off in your dad’s mailbox, he still remembered the way there. It wasn’t that far by foot, Neil could use the steps anyways. Even though Neil was blessed with a fast metabolism, lounging on a couch all day wasn’t good for his health. After debating forever in his mind, he nodded to himself. 

“Hey, are you able to watch over for like an hour? I gotta go do something” Neil asked, sliding the book into his jean pocket. 

“Yeah, sure” Jonathan answered, his mind invested in the film. 

As he walked out of the store, he tried to keep his shoulders high. It was for the better, he told himself. All he had been doing for the past few days was obsessing over you. Over the memory of you. He needed to let go of this idea of you, the one that was always a clear fantasy. No matter how badly he wanted to be, he wasn’t the man for you. You needed someone strong, manly, protective of you. Hell, you call him a nerd. He clearly wasn’t worthy of you. 

Neil walked down the familiar streets, tapping his fingers on the book as the cement trees and bushes turned into a suburbian view. His mind wandered back to high school, recalling almost exact conversations between you both as you walked these streets. All of the times that he appreciated the silence, gently admiring you as you hummed a melody.  

Standing out front of your father’s house, he sighed, looking at the journal once more, and debated if he really wanted to say farewell to you. Without ever saying it once more. The dark cloud rained over his thoughts once more. Swallowing hard, he slid it through the thin metal door, Neil slumped his shoulders and spun on his foot. Hurrying away defeated, the front door opened behind him. 

“Neil!” You called, jolting down the steps as you closed in on him. He spun around, his eyes wide as if he’d been caught red handed. “What are you doing here?” you wondered, smiling softly as he hesitantly stepped back towards you. 

“Oh, um- I was just…” he fumbled, nervously gripping onto his fingers. “I just put your dad’s journal in the mailbox, thought maybe you’d want it back” he admitted eventually, cheeks red and throat tight. 

“Oh, thanks?” you furrowed your brows together. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you to be home” he explained, scratching his head.

“Don’t be sorry. I was just heading out, to you, well Gumshoe, but yeah” you said, a slight tone of awkwardness in your voice. 

“You’re kidding” Neil mumbled, his shoulders dropping in a mixture of negative emotions. “Let me get it out” he whispered, stepping towards the mailbox.

He hissed as the one sided door got in the way of his fingers. Tapping on the papers, he tried his hardest to slide the book closer towards him. You watched, amused as you wandered towards the back of the mailbox. 

“Neil, most people pick their mail out from the back door” you informed, the metal door creaked open. 

“Right” he smiled, retrieving his caught fingers. 

“You must be off today then” you stated, holding onto the book tightly. 

“No, uh- yes. Well…” he murmured, mind racing to come up with a reasonable excuse. “I was just running a few errands in between work and thought I’d add you in” he nodded slowly, hoping you’d bite the bait. 

“Are you heading back there now?” you asked gently, your expression reassured him. 

“Yeah” he said softly. 

“Can I walk with you?” 

“Of course” Neil smiled gently, his mind finally relaxing from the overbearing thoughts.

The walk was quiet for most of the way, some small talk here and there. Just like how it was back in high school. Neil never minded, he just liked being in your presence, and it always seemed to be the only option he got to be around you. Yeah, you guys sat next to one another in Philosophy, but you had everyone wanting your attention, and he never knew how to stand out. 

“I saw your commercial on the television” you broke the calm silence. Neil chuckled out softly. 

“Oh, really? Ahaha yeah well I wanted to promote the business through a way that I love. And to you know, show what I provide. I had a lot of fun making it” he talked, a gleeful smile locked in. 

“You’re a good actor, why did you never get into it?” you questioned, smiling towards the strangers passing. 

“Get into what?” Neil looked over at you. 

“Making films, acting, any of it. You’ve got a creative mind, don’t you?” You clarified. 

“Oh, honestly. I’ve just always preferred being on the sidelines, I suppose. I’m happy where I am” he answered, a neutral tone on his tongue.

Neil wasn’t sure if he was trying to tell you that, or himself. The words just sounded skeptical off of his tongue. A few seconds later he felt embarrassed over how he perceived himself. 

“Fair, but sometimes it’s good to be the main character, you know?” you mentioned confidently. Neil was silent as he processed your words. You looked towards him, seeing the gears of his mind turning through his eyes. “Do people ask for your signature often?” you shifted convo, a sly smirk on your lips. 

“Yeah, you’re actually the first person not to ask for it, it’s a relief really” Neil laughed, rolling his shoulders back. 

“Don’t jump the gun, I just don’t have a pen on me” you chuckled, playfully smacking his shoulder. 

Laughing quietly besides one another, Neil wondered about your career. 

“Did you ever finish studying law?” he asked politely. 

“Of course” you replied immediately, but the tone was completely drained from your lips. It sounded robotic almost, your eyes blank as you stared ahead of you. “Is Rosie Pratt still in town?” you suddenly asked. 

It caught him off guard. There was no relevance to the conversation. Looking towards you, he noticed your jaw clenched and hands almost shaking. 

“Uh, no. I don’t think so” Neil said slowly. 

You were ignoring it and Neil couldn’t help but to wonder why. You were such an enigma, Neil wanted to crack you open, but worried you’d break completely if you did. 

Opening the door for you, the pair of you walked into Gumshoe. A cheeky smirk grew on Jonathan’s lips as Neil migrated proudly towards the back of the store. Waving to one another, you stood behind the couch, observing the closing scene of ‘Fargo’. Neil stood close behind you, admiring the length and colour of your loose hair.

“How was your Indy marathon?” you asked suddenly.

Their non-existent marathon you mean. 

“It was great, right guys?” Neil gulped, eyes darting from one friend to the other. 

“Yeah terrific” Lucien was first to respond. 

“Harrison Ford” Jonathan added, accompanied by the ok hand sign. 

“He is a charming man isn’t he” you admired, looking back towards Neil. He stared at you, still in a trance of your beauty “Anyways, what do you think is next on my to-watch-list?” you mentioned, holding out the journal towards him. 

“Uh, lets see” Neil bit his lip as he flicked to a random page. 

What if I’m just too afraid to be part of the story?

He blinked heavily, the words echoed through his head, his heart racing as he slowly looked up to your gentle gaze. Clearing his throat, his thumb ran over the words that echoed through his mind. 

“Rear Window is one of Hitchcock’s best works in my opinion” Neil stated.

“Oh, that’s the one with Grace Kelly right?” you wondered, leaning closer to Neil ever so slightly. 

The butterflies in his heart fluttered at your words. When was the last time he went out with a girl that actually cared to remember an actresses’ name? He’d have to objective them for his ex’s to figure them out. Your knowledge was so damn attractive. 

“Oh, Grace Kelly, mhm” Jonathan groaned, closing his eyes as he visualised her. 

“Are you a fan of hers?” you smirked, looking back at him. 

“Who isn't?” he snorted. 

“You wanna watch it?” you asked, catching everyone off guard. 

“What? I mean, um pardon?” Jonathan snapped his head towards you.  

Your hand gestured to the television, the credits rolling and then all eyes were on you. Looking over to Neil, you smiled softly. “I mean, if it’s alright with you of course” you added on, a look of hope in your eyes. 

“Yeah, of course” Neil nodded quickly. Hurrying over to the correct shelf, he quickly found the tape and grabbed it with his shaking hands, then beelined back towards the group. “Lucien, chuck it on will you?” Neil tossed the tape towards him. 

Catching it with wide eyes, Lucien frowned towards him. It was a bit of an impulsive act. The only reason for Neil throwing it to him was for him to vacate the other couch. He couldn’t afford to be cockblocked by his friends. 

“Yes, your majesty” Lucien sighed, following his order. 

Understanding his motives, he moved over next to Jonathan. Letting you lead, Neil sat down beside you, your thighs a few inches apart. Trying to relax, he looked over to you, who gently stared at the screen. Jonathan’s eyes were on him, Neil’s cheeks flustered red. 

Focusing his attention onto the screen, Neil finally relaxed. He always loved the opening sequence of this film. It establishes the setting, themes, characters and mood of the film perfectly through subtlety. The set and camera angles complete the voyeurism idea precisely.  

So deep into his analysis, Neil failed to notice you lean in towards him. 

“Hey, do you remember when I said we should watch a movie together sometime?” you whispered into his ear. 

Snapping his head towards you, Neil blinked slowly. Of course he remembered, how could he ever forget that night?

“Of course” he murmured, the memory playing over in his mind.

“Can’t believe it took us seven years” you chuckled, leaning back and returning your gaze to the screen. The pause from Neil went unnoticed by you. His eyes widened with intense thought and his mouth went dry. 

“Anyone hungry?” Jonathan looked at the time.

It was just after one. The movie had only been on for twenty minutes. It was obvious how badly Jonathan was scheming, but Neil had no reaction to it. Nudging Lucien’s ribs, his eyes peeled behind the glasses. 

“I could eat” Lucien huffed, rubbing his sore bones. 

Jonathan jumped to his feet, a cheeky smirk on his lips as he looked over towards Neil. But he ignored it, his throat tightening at the thought of being alone with you. All piling inside his overthinking mind. 

“Let’s go get some Burger King or something, don’t worry we’ll bring it back” Jonathan mused, patting Neil firmly on the shoulder as they walked out. 

It all went over your head, you waved bye and got comfy. As the movie played on the screen, that memory still played on in his mind. 

“Maybe we could watch a movie or something sometime?”

It echoed and echoed through his shaking mind. Neil wondered how you said that so easily. Worried how little that night meant to you, how badly he misinterpreted things. He stared blankly at the screen, his mind projecting his memories as he wondered why you brought that up.The dialogue travelled through his numb ears, his thoughts falling years back in time. 

Now, Neil wasn’t sure how he ended up in this situation. It felt like a fairy had finally granted his wishes. When you approached Neil out of nowhere and told him to follow you, his heart skipped a beat. But regardless, he followed you, he’d follow you anywhere. 

Neither of you felt in place at this party. Retreating to a quieter, more private space, you found an empty bedroom and nodded your head to yourself. Finally alone together, the atmosphere was much different than ever before. Something felt distinct, the stakes were raised, the possibilities at its greatest chance. All of the noise and chaos is gone, the rawness settled on Neil’s skin.

You sat on the window seat, the party in clear view of your wandering eyes, observing your raging classmates. The grass was full of drunk teenagers who thought they were ready to be adults. Neil sat at a respectful distance, on the bed, his sweating hands on his red cup, full of brown liquor as he watched over you. 

It started with small talk, like most encounters around Neil did. However he always appreciated the small talk with you. But then, your eagerness to drop the polite facade you always had around one another happened. 

“I can’t wait to get out of here, you know?” you spoke truthfully. 

Neil’s eyes widened. 

“What?” 

“To leave town, don’t you just hate it here?” you questioned, looking over the stars. 

“Uh, yeah… I suppose I do” Neil answered weakly. 

He wasn’t even sure where he wanted to go to college yet, or if he even was capable of it. It was a possibility he’d been ignoring, his parents never questioned him so he had no pressure on his back. Sometimes he wished he did, just to have that expectation in him that he could never find himself. 

“You know, it’s just life on repeat here. I’m sick of living up to expectations, I’m ready to drop my mask and live for me. I want to thrive, live an adventure. Don’t you Neil?” you asked, enthusiasm gaining in your voice as you visualise a better future.

“Of course” Neil lied, his nervous eyes hidden in the dark. “You’ll be closer to your mom, right?” he added, trying to focus on anything other than his future. 

“Yeah but, I doubt I’ll see her much though. That’s what happens when you start a family with someone else, your first one fades away” you explained, your warmth decreased. You looked down towards your knees. “Frank is kind, Charlie is bloody cute. But you know, the only love she can show me is through an expensive bill. I’d rather get a decent call from her. But they’re coming for grad, that’s the main thing” you spoke of, trying to end on a positive note. 

The room had completely shifted. The vulnerability was clear through the darkness. Neil cleared his throat, his thoughts demanding to be shown light. 

“I’m surprised you’re talking to me, if I’m being honest” Neil brought up. 

The next day Neil would regret how much alcohol he consumed. It always knew how to bring your raw emotions to the surface. The thought had been consuming for months now, not that you were ever close friends, but there was always a visible distance at times. 

“What do you mean? We talk all the time” you asked confusedly, leaning closer towards him. 

“I always feel invisible when you’re dating someone” he stated, sadness stained on his tongue. 

Your eyes soften, shoulders drop as you read his body language in the moonlight. You struggled to find words to use. 

“I’m sorry Neil, it’s been an intense year. I didn’t-” 

“It’s okay, I understand” he assured, waving his hand towards you. 

A heavy beat. 

“I do like talking to you, you know?” you pointed out. 

A sense of relief waved over him, his mouth ajar open as he stared at you. 

“I like talking to you too” Neil replied, sincerely. 

“My dad’s just been my back about my… choices. And well Evan, he’s certainly consuming. Sometimes I wish I steered clear from him” you spoke truthfully, turning your head back at the window, noticing him instantly. 

His body tensed at that name. The anger inside of him pulled on its chains. You looked down to his broad, tall physique. His voice echoed through the window, speaking nonsense, as per usual. 

“Yeah, Evan is quite the guy” Neil huffed lightly. 

You noticed the tone, but chose not to address it. However, you returned your sight towards him, and let your thoughts go loud in the silent room. There’s a moment of quiet where both of you realise how much time had passed since you last really talked like this. The air between you was thick with unspoken feelings, and the chemistry is undeniable. There’s a soft vulnerability between you now, a shared understanding of how you’ve both been holding back in different ways.

“Have you ever been kissed before Neil?” you wondered. 

His heartbeat quickened, a bead of sweat rolled down his nervous skin. 

“Yeah of course, plenty of times” Neil lied, nervously rubbing his fingers over his red cup. Cocking an eyebrow towards him, you tilted your head forward. 

“Have you?” you asked more sternly. 

“Yeah, but it was by Evie Brown so I like to pretend that it doesn’t count” Neil confessed easily. 

“She always did have a peculiar interest in you, didn’t she?” you giggled.

Neil exhaled and dismissed your observation through waving his hand. Looking back outside, you shook your head softly towards the affairs happening outside. A broad hand around a petite shoulder that shouldn’t be. Turning your head slowly to Neil for the last time, you wondered briefly. 

“Come here” you motioned your hand towards you, returning your sight to Neil, who’s eyes had never left you.

Standing up on his shaking legs, Neil approached you silently, finishing his heavy drink. Sitting next to you, his thin physique went rigid as he tried to focus on his breathing. A thousand thoughts streamed through his conflicted mind. 

“Don’t be so stiff” you laughed, playfully smacking the back of his shoulder. 

Neil laughed softly, his shoulders rolling forward. The silence was peaceful, reassuring, empowering. All of his worries eased as he looked at you. He whispered your name. 

“Yes Neil?” you replied. 

After he took a deep breath, he finally spoke his truth. 

“You deserve better than Evan. Like, I know he’s probably going to play for the MLB, have a mansion with a fucking petting zoo out the back-”

“A petting zoo? Really?” you snickered.  

“Yeah! I mean, I don’t know. He’ll have something completely unnecessary. But, you deserve better than that” Neil stated, locking eyes with you. Your faces only a few inches apart, he could smell the vodka on your tongue. 

“Oh yeah, like what Neil?” you asked slowly, inching closer towards him. 

“Like, like… Like…” he stammered.  

His nerves raised as you attracted towards him, like a magnet. What was he doing, he didn’t even deserve you. This wasn’t a movie where the protagonist swooned the love interest. This was real life, and you were out of his league. His body slouched in worry. 

“You just deserve better than him, someone that respects and adores you for who you are. Not who they want you to be” he voiced, finally. 

Even though a massive rock was lifted from his back, his body remained tense. You blunk a couple of times, processing his raw words. 

“Thanks Neil, I really appreciate that” you whispered, a weak smile on your lips. 

You lean close to one another, neither of you wanting to break the silence. The suspense is palpable, his heart begging him to close the distance. Neil moved a little closer, you didn’t pull away. The words of your eyes speaking confessions to one another. You both know what’s meant to happen, but there’s some barrier in the way. 

Neil brushed a strain of your hair behind your ear, completely admiring your beauty. For a moment, time slowed down completely. You were his best sight, greater than any other film he’d seen. Neil leaned in, so close he felt your breath on his trembling lips. But just before glory, your name echoed down the hall. 

You pulled back, looking down to the backyard, Evan out of vision. The reality of it all crashed down on you both, the party, the people, the timing. You sit there silent for a moment, gathering your drunken thoughts and vulnerabilities. The tension lingers in the air, the sound of Neil’s heavy breathing fills the room. The unsureness of how to handle this weight pressed on your shoulders. 

Your name echoed again, much closer this time. The clock was ticking, you had to be quick. 

“I should go, it was nice talking to you. We’ll do it more often” you appreciated, standing up and hurrying to the door. 

Neil was breathless, the darkness of the room hiding his raw expression. He wanted to stride towards you, to seal the deal. But he sat there defeated instead. Your hand held onto the knob, but you turned back towards him.

“Maybe we could watch a movie or something sometime?” you offered, smiling gently. 

“Yeah, yeah! I’d love that…” Neil stammered out, leaning closer towards you. 

“See you around Neil” you farewelled, sneaking out of the room. 

The light shined for a second, then the darkness washed over him once more. His mind was shaken, the shouts outside muffled as he felt the moment hang in the air around him. Too conflicting thoughts consumed him, he was proud that he finally spoke his mind. But feared it was too late. A weak smile grew on his lips, tomorrow would be a new day. 

But he never did see you around, not like he did that night. Right after graduation, you were surprised with a trip to Europe from your mother. Then college came around and you moved away, just like you said you would. Neil stayed in town, left with nothing but his bottled up feelings and emotions. Wandering a lost path as he searched for his passion to fulfill. The feeling of rejection stamped onto his forehead, his hopes bursted like a balloon. 

They returned almost an hour later, you were oblivious to how deep Neil was in his own mind. Wide eyes were easily fooled to be invested in Hitchcock’s classic. Mouth ajar opened as he wondered what he was trying to achieve. If there was anything still to win. When you realised he’d hardly touched his food, you shifted closer to him. 

“You okay?” you whispered. 

“Yeah” Neil lied, turning his head towards you. “I’m okay” he told you, but wondered how much he was trying to tell himself that. 

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[eldritch-spouse]

I want Breg to grind his slit against mine 😔

The pressure would force his cocks to stay inside, but it would bulge enough to add some bumpy pleasure 🥴

[This is more of a struggle session than actual sex. Fem reader.]

TW: Unhygienic(?)

You wouldn't exactly say you're a sadist, but it's funny to watch the way Breg reacts to certain punishments.

Because even if this monster supposedly endured a past that centered mostly around the act of mating, it seems he's still far behind most others in terms of creative perversion.

Evidenced by moments such as these, if the way he's nearly visibly fuming trying to understand what you meant is anything to go by.

" You want me to keep them inside? " Breg tilts his head.

" Yep. " You confirm for the third time.

" But that way I can't make love to you, angel! "

" That's the whole point, Breg. "

He frowns, then pauses.

" Can I eat you out? "

" No. "

" C- Can you suck my slit? "

" Nope. "

With every rejection, he deflates a bit more.

The breeder glances at his tail, synapses connecting to form the dubious figment of a terrible idea.

" Can I- "

" No. " You emphasize, giving him a stern look.

The terms have been laid out clearly. After his latest impulsive stunt, which has earned you yet another ban from one of your favorite stores, you've decided Breg won't be fucking you for a while. This means he cannot penetrate you in any way, in any orifice, with any part of himself. And you're not touching his dicks at any capacity.

This leaves Breg with only one ridiculous option, relying on his slit for a mockery of stimulation...

You know it's a bit cruel to take a hypersexual monster's relief away so radically, but these kinds of punishments are usually the ones that stick the most with Breg and reap better results in the long-run. This is a necessary evil if you are to succeed in your seemingly impossible task of adapting this fool of a monster to modern society.

" You're so mean to me sometimes. "

The audacity to call you mean after the scene he made almost makes a blood vessel pop in your forehead.

" You can always wait it out. " As if.

You had a movie lined up to watch together if he miraculously agreed.

" But I don't want to... "

You shrug at the breeder. Then he ought to sort himself out, as far as you care.

Breg whines some more, hoping against all odds that you'd have a change of heart and allow the sweaty, horny monster looming over you to have his way. No such luck.

Sagging in defeat, Breg palms over his pelvis, tracing his own slit but not teasing it directly. Just enough to make himself shudder and huff. His unseen eyes are fixed on you while he paws at himself like some pathetic creature, you can only imagine half the scenes that must be unfolding in that fried brain and causing his hips to shift forward occasionally.

Frankly, for as much as he complains, Breg would be able to get off just fine if you told him he could only look at you. He's just that easy.

When Breg dips to shamelessly huff at your neck and chest, you lean your head to take a look at the situation below, finding the breeder already soaking the couch with the precum dripping off his slit, two fingers hastily stuffed in there, no doubt trying to stimulate the tips of his cocks.

He's a smart-enough guy, he knows this is the only way he can directly stimulate them. One miscalculation and they'll slip out, immediately ruining his chance to get off around you.

That doesn't make it any less of a pitiful, almost comedic act to see. The puffs of his hot breath around your neck cast goosebumps across your skin as it becomes humid, Breg breathes shallower in an attempt to get as much of your scent as he can, speed his own motions to keep up a semblance of stimulus. The monster groans something against your skin, his dominant arm straining with effort and fast, slick sounds ringing across the room. If the way his tail thrashes is any indication, this isn't really doing it for him, but he's trying.

And that matters.

" Good boy. " You encourage him, a small hand holding his head closer to you.

Although he gasps and moans in delight at your praise, Breg's irritation only grows. " 'S not enough... " He huffs.

" Yeah it is, you can get there. " You're fairly certain Breg could get off by just moving his hips against air.

" Noo- " His fingers' motions slow rapidly. " I need more, need to mate you- "

" Nope. "

" Angel please-! "

" No. "

Breg takes his hands off his pouch and buries his head on your chest, swaying in the discomfort of his own arousal.

" Please please please please please- "

Gods if his begging never fails to make the temperature in a room rise some degrees... But you can't be that weak willed with a monster like Breg, it just doesn't work.

" Not happening. And if you keep complaining then I'll just leave. "

" No- " His claws nearly sink onto your sides from the quick hold he established at those words. " No please, I'm sorry. "

You roll your eyes. " Apology accepted. "

Again, a few seconds pass as the breeder thinks of what he can do to make things work. You let him have all the time in the world to come up with an idea, because you would also struggle in his place. There are moments where Breg looks as if he wants to give up, but his determination to satisfy his desires has always been stronger. At some point, he settles on what to do, and the first move is to start tugging at your comfy bottoms.

" What are you doing? " It's more genuine curiosity than anything. You told him he couldn't eat you out, after all.

" Don't worry about it, angel. "

All you do is squint and watch as Breg quickly removes your clothes and dips between your legs. Although aware that he can't sample you, he decides that there's no issue if he flattens his tongue against your panties. Breg hums, disappointed that there's little taste but that of cotton, no matter how hard he presses against the folds of your clothed cunt.

His teeth catch onto the fabric while he begins to pull it down, removing the garment, another flash of pain on his face at knowing that he can't dive for the gold.

Once your panties are out of the way, you get to watch the monster think about how he's going to do this.

He tries to slot himself between your legs the way he normally would, pressing himself as close to you as possible. The results... Weren't that great. Breg tries and tries to readjust, but he's not getting the needed friction every time he awkwardly humps.

With a muffled curse, he pulls back and starts brainstorming again, moving parts of you from side to side, impatient. You roll your eyes throughout it, eventually ending up with one leg spread the other pushed up- Not the most comfortable.

Breg shifts then, twisting himself to fit the way he wants, like some kind of puzzle piece. More importantly, you now get what he was trying to do all this time, achieve friction from his slit directly to your pussy. Brow rising, you actually wonder if this will work for him.

Little did you expect that it would work for you too...

By sheer virtue of his frustration, the force Breg uses to grind his slit against your entrance applies enough pressure that it feels as though your clitoris is being squished and rolled around just right, making a shiver crawl up your spine at the sudden stimulus. Every muscle in his body tenses with his effort to find the perfect angle, the perfect rhythm, leading to some very frantic humping in-between harsh grinding rolls.

You didn't really expect to get invested in this. It's just a punishment, after all. But the breeder's misery proves to be a reliable and effortless source of consistent pleasure, enough that you're getting wet and biting your bottom lip, encouraging him with a few of your own motions to aid his pace. As wet as you may be, Breg manages to be wetter, soaking your cunt with his precum that allows for a steady sort of slide against each other.

Your excitement seems to be the missing trick, for as soon as Breg senses it, you can feel the way his cocks angrily push at a barrier they're not allowed to break, causing his slit to bump out humorously- But deliciously so.

Breg sweats and pants as if enduring a great workout, unsubtly drooling out the side of his mouth, grit-teeth betraying a pathetic fight for a climax that might not come at all. Eventually, his complexion starts twisting in a shocked and confused expression.

" What's... What's wrong? " You'd been clutching one of the cushions by now, hoping this would either make you climax or just feel good for a while longer.

" It feels- Feels weird. " The monster groans. " Keeping them in for so long... I- Hnng- "

You can only imagine what it must be like. It occurs to you that maybe, just maybe, his cocks swelled enough with desperation that they might be stuck in his body, squeezing against each other, unable to move. If it were painful, Breg would have gotten scared and stopped most likely, so you assume he's just crumbling under way too much pressure on his lengths.

" Ah, they're stuck? " You tease.

He halts entirely. " N-... No. "

You've said this a couple of times, and you'll say it again, one of Breg's few redeeming qualities is that he's a terrible liar.

" Then, I guess you can pull them out. "

" Huh?! " Had there not been that layer of skin in front of his eyes, they would have popped out his sockets. " Really? You mean it?! "

" Of course. " There's a limit to your blatant sadism. Or maybe not, because you know damn well he's not going to be able to push them out under this much arousal.

Breg immediately pulls back from you, holding still as he tries, rather humorously, to relax enough that, miraculously, his cocks protrude.

It's not happening. The monster huffs and whines, getting upset at himself as he even resorts to reaching in with a digit. No results.

Mildly amused, you push him further back, so that you can sit on the couch while he stands, nearly at face level with his poor, puffed slit. Small hands cling to his thighs as you rest your chin on his skin and glance up.

" Come on, Breg. I'm waiting... Don't you want me to play with them? " Your tongue hangs out, taunting and soft and warm.

If he wasn't desperate before, he sure is now, tail swishing near violently as he realizes his predicament. Helpless, the only thing Breg can do is thrill himself with the view of you so very eager to suck him off, and nudge his wet slit against your face. White claws reach down to grab locks of your hair and play with them, stroking over the sides of your cheeks and bringing you closer, as if that would fix the situation.

Ultimately, the only solution would be for him to calm down, because only with less arousal would his members deflate and his slit stop tensing enough for it to work out. But Breg has put too much work into this exercise to let it go to waste, so he's reluctant to back down.

In the end, all the breeder does is groan, almost on the verge of crying, while he attempts to get you to touch him at any capacity. Gentle hands palp the overheated and swollen skin.

" Please just- " He huffs, the denial and frustration melting into a desperate discomfort that has him rolling his head back. " I just need to cum, Angel please. "

Gave up, did he? Adorable.

Breaking the rule set earlier, you dip to kiss Breg's leaking slit, a short tongue ravishing it from top to bottom. Even when you try to squeeze it in and directly lick his throbbing cocks, they're so tightly packed together that you can hardly flirt with either. It doesn't stop you from trying.

On his end, the breeder seems grateful at last, taking this as the opportunity it is by rapidly grabbing both sides of your head and clumsily, feverishly, trying to roll his need against you. Again, he achieves a gross sort of hump against your beautiful face, even the protrusion of your nose serving to stimulate him further as he all but nearly rubs himself all over you.

With your ears covered by pale, wide palms and constant mouthfuls of overheated flesh coated in the tang of precum, you fail to pick up on the increasing volume of Breg's cries, the way they become monstrous and shameless in his finally approaching peak.

In the end, the only tell you have is the rapid twitching of his slit, the way his legs tense and the shifting of his buried cocks, before he bursts.

Maybe oozing is the appropriate word here, you'd say, because the only way Breg's seed can escape him at all is through thick globs pooling at the edge of his pouch and being subsequently pushed out by the remaining shots of his pent up load, dripping warmly to coat his hips and ass.

" A- Ahhn- "

Breg lets go of your head to whine and gasp, hisses making it through the gaps between his teeth, the sensation apparently being foreign and intense to him. He still moves his hips, perhaps hoping that he can grind it out of him faster, or maybe that's just his way of riding out the orgasm without being able to stroke himself.

It shouldn't be turning you on so much to watch the monster struggle, his overstimulation rising as trapped members are forced to keep in contact with his own hot cum, still sticking and dripping off him in a depraved show. Breg shudders, his tail wrapping around your leg for a semblance of comfort while you pet his cheek, greedily watching.

Only after a decent pause of trying to ride it down does the pressure deflate enough to give him some actual relief. The breeder growls in genuine pain when his sore slit is stretched enough, finally allowing two blue, half-hard cocks to pop out, coated in a sheen of his own seed and still pulsing from what you imagine must have been an peculiar climax.

" See? You did just fine. " Praising the horn dog after successful training is key. His shaky smile is all the confirmation you need.

It's a bit hard to resist torturing him a bit more, you think as you sink to your knees in front of the mess he made.

" Now, sit still so I can help clean up. "

[genericpuff]

💣💥💣💥💣

so with Episode 67 finally posted and the dust settled, I wanted to share some funny behind-the-scenes stuff with you all.

Clip Studio is a great piece of software, it's what allows Banshriek and I to work on the same episode together via cloud-syncing (it's a function called "Teamworks" in the app) but it's also... kind of garbage sometimes. Without getting too much into it, CSP has a bottleneck issue with how it predominantly uses CPU rather than the graphics card in a computer. And considering it's literally graphics software, yeah, you can probably figure out pretty quickly with the most bare minimum of computer knowledge why this is a problem that's really silly for it to have LOL

ANYWAYS. This has been known to cause problems between Banshriek and I when trying to complete an episode. Problems that - often enough for me to tell you stories about it - result in us having to essentially "rebuild" the episode we're working on. This doesn't necessarily mean having to redraw anything (thankfully that doesn't happen very often) but it usually goes down something like this:

1.) The software suddenly has an issue syncing our changes which results in either conflicted files that can't update, software crashes that refuse to load pages, updates not even going through, or taking WAY too long to update to the point that we'd rather just rebuild and work on the episode independently and then swap the files and layers when it's time for the other person to do their part.

2.) I have to inform Banshriek that Clip Studio crashed again, and in the event that I can't get back into page editing because of the aforementioned issues ^^^ they immediately get to backing up their most recent version of the file that's stored on their computer. Thankfully a lot of the time these versions are pretty up to date, but it's still a moment of tension every single time because these crashes don't always happen the same way every time.

3.) Using the backup version, a new .cmc file (the file that contains every page for each episode, it's the thing that lets you make pages for comics in the software!) is created by whoever has access to the pages without issue (usually Banshriek is the one who's able to do it, this has become a very one-sided problem LMAO) and then is sent to me so that I can upload it to the cloud to replace the old version. This file is then usually called something like "Episode#BACKUP" to distinguish between both versions as we usually still have the older versions downloaded as well.

4.) Work (hopefully) continues as normal. Though it's definitely caused setbacks, so far our survival rate is still 100% 😆

This happens at least every other episode. It's become rare to go a whole episode without having to go through this process. We're still trying to figure out what we can do to avoid it, but we've tried a bunch of other options (and Banshriek has created some test episodes using pages from completed episodes that crashed for the sake of experimenting) and so far it's still a struggle understanding what exactly is going wrong with Clip Studio and it's syncing features. Fortunately, Banshriek and I are both auDHD enough that we're gonna obsess over it until we figure it out LMAO but until then, we're constantly having to treat Clip Studio like a live snake that's trying to wrangle itself out of our hands 💀😆

And the most recent episode? Episode 67, which ran a week and a day late? It set a new personal best for number of backups, because we had to rebuild it not just once, but TWICE.

What we've noticed is that sometimes you can barely make a change to an episode and these crashes still happen, as if major changes have been made. So far the best hypothesis Banshriek has come up with regarding this observation is that the software struggles more to update changes that affect overall pixel count and appearance - stuff like moving canvases, flipping canvases, adding on textured layers (which is what we do at the end of making each page) , etc. that covers a lot of pixels at a time, even if it's only changing the hues / colors slightly, seems to cause the most problems.

During the production of Episode 67, the following plagues came to pass:

Our car exploded

Our cat nearly exploded (btw! for anyone wondering from my last post about him, he's doing better now!)

Our toilet pipes froze twice (and exploded once)

Democracy in the U.S. exploded

My husband's wisdom teeth were exploding so the last 3 of them were removed all at once

The files for Episode 67 exploded twice and had to be rebuilt just to keep it on life support (by the end of the episode we were literally sending files back and forth via Google Drive like peasants 😔 /hj)

The most non-explosive thing to happen was the tattoo shop I work at moving locations up the street, and even then, I came very close to exploding a few times during that process LMAO (and our debit machine just exploded so we're cash only for the next few days sksksks)

This episode was probably our most cursed yet, and frankly, it couldn't be more fitting, I think Dionysus himself had a hand in our madness, just for the sake of being on theme with this episode. And the worst part, we haven't even gotten into the truly chaotic stuff yet. All Dionysus has done so far is slam Hades' head into a table, he's barely gotten started. Dionysus only knows what Episode 68 has in store for me and Banshriek as well 😭💀