#sometimes i don’t think this movie is real

[producedbysohyun]

Cuddling

Squid game x reader hcs

Summary: How the people in squid games would cuddle you (separate)

Includes: Thanos, In-ho, Se-mi, Dae-ho, Myung-gi, Jun-ho, Hyun-ju, Mi-na (non!squid game au)

Warnings: might be slightly suggestive at some points.

masterlist

a/n: I love writing these so much! I hope you guys enjoy them as much as I do!!

Thanos

Get ready to be crushed

Lays on-top of you

And does not let you get up for anything

“Let me get up for a second I-“

“No.”

While laying on-top of you he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck or chest

If you do end up getting up he whines until you lay back down

Type of Bf to use your butt or thighs as a pillow 😔✊

Randomly bites you

Has cute aggression 100%

Very deep sleeper

Moves so much in his sleep so if you guys fall asleep cuddling at least one of you is gonna be upside down when you wake up

Will give you pda anytime anywhere he does not care

I’m literally Dr. Seuss

In-ho

Not very big on cuddling

He tolerates it for you tho 😚

Even tho cuddling isn’t really his thing he LOVES when you sit on his lap

Especially when you’re facing him

Also likes when you lay on his chest

Literally just lets you cling to him and do whatever

Acts like he doesn’t care for it but we all know the truth

When he’s tired he just completely lets his guard down

That will probably be the only time he initiates cuddling

Other wise you’re kinda on your own 

Se-mi

Loves laying on your chest !!

Gives you neck kisses when she’s the big spoon 😏

Also a biter

Likes to have you on her lap

Touches your tummy while cuddling

you cannot stop her 😡

Clingiest Gf you can have !!

Takes every opportunity to hug you from behind and just stays like that for as long as possible

When you lay on her chest she likes to play with your hair

Another deep sleeper

Girl will not wake up for anything

If you are in bed with her you better be ready to never leave the bed again once she gets her hands on you

“Babe I need to get up”

“Five more minutessss”

Dae-ho

Most cuddly person ever

Big spoon !!

not so secretly likes being small spoon sometimes

Either rests his head on-top of yours or in your neck

If you guys fall asleep like that expect not to be getting up at all

Literally has a death grip on you

Lays his head on your thighs or chest pt.2

Will fall asleep immediately if you start playing with his hair 🙁

HATES sleeping without you

The lightest sleeper ever

If you softly shake him awake he will either have a dramatic mom reaction or he’ll just be confused asf

My babbyyyyyy

Myung-gi

Struggles to sleep if you aren’t next to him

Religiously the big spoon

He likes to put his hands up your shirt while cuddling and his excuse is

“My hands were cold 🙁”

“Damn right they are 😡”

Yaaaa we all know his real intentions ✊

Neck kisses pt.2 !!

Another one that uses your thighs as a pillow

Moves a lot in his sleep as well but stays holding you the whole time somehow

Loves you being on his lap pt.2

The type to rub your thighs while watching a movie or some sht😭😔🙁😭😡😔😔😡

I want him so bad

Gives you so much kisses !!

I need someone like him omg 😔

Jun-ho

Loves cuddling face to face if that makes sense 😭

Likes to hear about your day while just holding you

Listens intently and plays with your hair as you speak

He also enjoys when you lay on his chest

The weight of your body calms him down and he feels better knowing you’re safe in his arms

If he’s feeling extra vulnerable that day he’ll lay his head on your chest

Probably gets super exhausted after work sometimes so he just falls asleep the second he gets home

and when you join him in bed he immediately wraps his arms around you

Overall I don’t think he’d be to big on cuddling but he also wouldn’t mind

Hyun-ju

She’s just a big teddy bear

Especially when you’re alone with her

She isn’t too big on pda so in public she probably just sticks to holding your hand

But in private you’re getting cuddles, kisses, you name it

There will be a lot of giggling going around

Loves if you braid or play with her hair while cuddling

Lets you try out new hairstyles on her to see which one looks the prettiest 🤭

Loves when you lay on-top of her

When the both of you go to bed she HAS to be touching you

No matter if it’s holding hands or being straight up on top of eachother

Poor girl just needs you 😔

Mi-na

I feel like she wouldn’t really care for being touchy with anyone but if it’s her s/o

Sign her up !!

Definitely small spoon

She wants to be treated like a princess 😋

Puts her legs over your lap and just pouts at you till you rub them

If she’s feeling a little frisky she’ll get you to put your head on her chest and then just cling onto you

Loves giving you kisses !!

ugh I want her

Cannot fall asleep if you aren’t in bed with her

a/n: hii! I hope you guys enjoyed thissss! (If you’ve made requests it might take awhile for me to get to them I’ve been busy lately I hope you understand!) (reqs are currently closed)

[kisakunt]

THE RICH MAN’S GUIDE TO CORRUPTION

GIVE IT UP FOR LOVE

warnings… i mean some absolute swine talk, gojo and geto are evil men, you’re a sweet and pure virgin. swearing, mentions of fucking, really just vile pig shit.

synopsis… suguru and satoru have a lovely chat over a warm summers breeze. oh! and sweet, un-expecting, vulnerable you is the topic of discussion.

a word from the creator… idk if i mentioned this but this fic is based loosely off the movie cruel intentions! banger film, check it out. i wrote a lot of this chapter awhile ago so if the writing style switches up next chapter don’t sue me. i’m excited!!!! here’s to the next eleven chapters of hell

series masterlist

Gojo hates the heat. He thinks he's tolerated it before on his father’s yacht or when he did an unnecessary shirtless carwash for extra money he didn't need; but right now with the breeze through the window— that Suguru demanded be open— overbearing the air conditioner, he's absolutely positive that summer is the worst.

“Start of the year’s comin’, yknow.” He typically broke the silence— as if he could ever shut up to begin with— and he was almost always met with a:

“No shit.” strident response. Those seemed to be Suguru’s speciality, and provoking them seemed to be Satoru’s.

It’s too hot. His white hair presses into the drywall, feeling much cooler than the air outside. “I’m not stupid, Suguru. Neither are you, you know what I mean.” It’s an overdramatic sigh— a call for attention— as he turns his head over to look at him.

“They’re gonna ask us about it soon.” And, in some way Suguru can’t really comprehend, Gojo sounds excited.

His manner isn’t necessarily wrong, not so much as it is unexpected. The ‘new year, new fuck’ competition of Azabu was practically famous among the young men certain to attend— the sons of the sons who started it, and all their nephews or cousins or any synonym for a pig of a relative that they could come up with. And, luckily enough, they had the privilege to be top candidates.

The competition was started by the current dean’s uncle, a horny fuck-all type who would take any and all excuse to boost his ego while tearing down a girls— or maybe he really did just want a good lay. But, it grew and grew and grew, and now it was almost ritualistic, a second identity of worthiness in the form of fucking a virgin before anyone else did.

Sure, they were nothing but thrilled for it as high school reached an end, or even the first or second year of university. But now it just seemed dull.

But, traditions are custom, and customs are a necessity. It’s almost become lore throughout their little clique of affluence; whispered stories from childhood turned into real competition after a long wait, especially from a group of people who so rarely have to wait for anything. It’s inspiring, they think, means to associate themselves with a lower class; normalize themselves just a little more.

Alumni share stories at functions, putting the frat in fraternizing, nonchalance on the tips of their tongues. Sometimes the tone almost feels dark, and Suguru thinks if he were a better person he’d feel some type of sympathy for the girls. Any fragment of empathy he had wiped away when he won for the first time, though, wide smirk as his year mates glared at him; memories of the tight, albeit idiotic, girl engrained behind the lids of his eyes.

Even so, it gets old quick. And it’s not like they don’t fuck dumb, stupid, silly girls with nothing to say for the rest of the year anyway. So, he can’t quite figure out what Gojo is all too excited about.

“Well try to make sure your dick doesn’t get hard from the thought, you fucking freak.” There’s a giggle from the other man, a scoff too, and he pushes his hand out at him.

This is crucial. This is who they are together. A pair— whether it’s a pair of awful men or not.

There’s also a sense of trepidation that comes with it, of course. It’s exclusive, more so than they already are, and if you do one thing wrong- speak a little too loud, come off too brash, give a lackluster lie after actually getting caught— you’re out. And whose pride would want that?

“It’s stupid we always gotta wait for them to sit us down, it’s not like we don’t know what’s coming up.” He scoffs, arms crossing over his chest. “Plus, what a fucking weird thing to say to your kid.”

“I mean the whole thing’s odd if you think about it.” Gojo shrugs, hands stuffed in his pockets, forearms bare against the linen of his trousers.

He’s right, of course. Even if neither of them feel guilt for their actions, they can’t ignore the sinking feeling in their stomach when their own fathers sit them down and incite such a twisted view on them.

Be that as it may, it’s not too bad when that’s all they know, and it’s not like either of them are going to complain at a quick orgasm, a nice pair of tits, and that goddamn feeling of triumph.

“Do you think they’ll cry again?” Satoru mocks, brimming with glee as he leans in the direction of his friend. “It’s always funny, dontcha think?”

“As if you’d know,” There’s a smirk despite the aggression in his tone. “Dunno why it matters so much to you, you already got bitches babbling about you all the time.”

Gojo sighs, expression bored and childish and fucking greedy. “Yeah, I know but…” His voice peters out, lost in the room. Elation bubbles back into his features, warming his cheeks and animating his eyes as he looks at Suguru.

“Yknow, I heard the dean has a daughter starting, actually. Real sweet gal, even wrote a whole fucking magazine article about the importance of ‘saving your innocence’” his voice wobbles, eyes rolling as he sneers. “for someone you really love.”

“Sounds like she’s ugly.”

“Thought so, too, but..” He trails off, hand fishing in his back pocket for his phone, pupils dilating at the light on his screen. It doesn’t take him long to find the photo; clearly he’s been sitting on his discovery for awhile, anticipating when he could tell him. “Look.”

Suguru doesn’t like to be wrong, much less will he ever admit it. “Holy shit.” You aren’t necessarily the prettiest girl he’s ever seen, probably not even the prettiest he’s seen in the last month, but you were definitely something.

Maybe it was the curve of your jaw or the tint in your lips, but the photo set something off in him. On the surface he thinks it’s the just barely explicit face you’re making in your mirror, phone in hand as you look into your lens, but really, honestly, if he’s searching deep down— it’s the fact he knows you’re the one girl who wouldn’t just throw herself on him if he so kindly asked.

“Sugu, are you ever bored of this? It feels too easy, right?” Suddenly Gojo’s previous excitement feels misplaced, voice itching for more. “Hardest part about it is finding out who’s actually a virgin or not, and that’s pretty simple with how awkward they get.”

“What are you saying?” Maybe he already knows, maybe he’s hoping for the obvious, but he asks like he doesn’t care. The former moves fast, hand steady on the desk as he leans far too close for comfort. In any other situation, he’d probably be met with a harsh jab to the face, but this feels different— secret.

“Let’s do something, on our own, just you and me.” He almost seems too impatient, pressure digging into the ground from the toes of his shoes and gaze begging. It was the kind of thing that made you want to agree, if nothing else to just feel a fraction of the way he seemed to be. Before Suguru could even consider the idea, test the waters and make Gojo beg a little bit, said boy opened his mouth again.

“I mean, unless you’re not up for it. You don’t really seem like the type to make a girl give it up for love.” He snickers, raising the back of his hand to his forehead as he feigns swooning.

“Geto, I— I love you.” His voice is high, wheezy in his imitation and a little rude. “I think.. I think I’m ready- I want it to be you.” He cuts himself off with his own laugh, hand circling over his mouth to try to stifle himself. “Could you imagine?”

“The fuck does that mean?!”

“Cmon, Suguru, you’re not really the endearing type.” He’s edging him now, tone manipulative and pressing and snarky and Suguru knows— of course he knows, but it can’t help but irk him.

“What are you thinking?” And now Gojo’s beaming again, feet guiding him back across the room to his bag, books stacked neatly inside, lying even against each other. He pulls out a magazine and tosses it to him haphazardly before he reaches back for a notebook and a pen.

“Page 36, read it.” The article is cheesy. It’s too long and feels like something right off a self care Facebook page. Suguru is sure he physically recoiled a couple times reading it; especially when you wrote ‘Virginity is a miracle— the ability to show someone how much you love them in such an intimate way should be saved for someone special.’.

It’s shocking that you’re the daughter of the man who oversees their little sex game.

Suguru thinks you’re vile— embarrassing and pathetic and a huge fucking waste of what seems like a really good pair of blowjob eyes. It makes his skin crawl and he verbally scoffs when he reads your finishing sentence about cherishing your virtues, so focused on the arrogance in your punctuation that he doesn’t even hear Gojo’s laugh.

“Pretentious as shit, right?” He snorts, eyes flickered as he recites the passage in his head. “It’s gonna feel so good to fuck the words right out of her mouth.” Suguru didn’t know what he expected from his friend, but it wasn’t that. It’s clear through, through and through, that he’s dedicated to the idea.

“I mean sure, I guess you’ll have your turn. Maybe she’ll fuck just about anyone after I win.”

“Wait, so you’re in?”

“Whatever.”

“Fuck yeah!” He’s joyful, fist pumping into his chest in a quick celebration before he’s holding up his notebook, standing directly across the floor from the desk.

The wood is dark, deep and marbled, glazed over the top and lined with little symbols of power in the form of trophies. It’s clearly something too nice to serve as a welcome mat, but nonetheless Suguru rests his heels on the surface, ankles crossed over each other as he leans back in his chair. His eyes point to the ceiling to look at anything other than the annoyance in front of him.

“Well clearly we need to set up some rules.” He sneers in his seat when he remembers not looking at him won’t make him shut up.

“Okay well we have the obvious: whoever fucks first wins. And I mean fucks, none of that sloppy anal shit. Doesn’t count.” It’s almost funny, but neither of them acknowledge it. If they do, that’ll come hand in hand with the fact they’re acting just like their fathers.

“She has to be sober.” He didn’t really expect himself to say that, but he did expect Satoru to whine.

Gojo lets it sit in the air for a second before he nods curtly and jots something done.

“Would it be too cocky to say she has to cum?” The journal’s away from his face now and someone could, and probably would, argue that the walls are lucky to see the boyish grin he’s got. His smirk pulls up at the corners of his lips, but Suguru just finds it vexing. Gojo is far too full of himself, he thinks, and he hates to admit there’s good reason.

Nonetheless, he has to give him a little shit. “Do they normally not with you?”

“Hey! That’s not what I meant, asshole.” There’s something sweet to Satoru, under all the sickening that is his personality. It makes people understand just why girls fall for him, and definitely helps him keep a good image to the public.

And there’s something smart to him that makes you feel like he could really pull whatever he wanted off. It makes the idea of competing with just him much more appealing.

“Are we gonna have like a— fuck I don’t know— like a time limit?”

“Fuck is this? A video game?”

“I mean no, but competition wise if it takes us like half a year isn’t that kind of stupid? Because who’s to say she won’t ‘really love you’ by then, and then you’re not making her go against anything, yknow?” And there's also something meticulous about him that makes him aggravating as all hell.

“Fine. A month.”

“Just a month?”

“Yeah, you’re right. Plus, anything longer than that and we’d just be a couple of fucking losers chasing after a bitch.” Suguru knows Gojo is giving him a look without even seeing it, the slightly judgmental and almost kind one he does. “What? You’re the one who said it to begin with.”

“Yeah, okay, whatever. A month.” It’s silent for a second, comfortable with all their years of each other, before he clears his throat.

“That it then?” Maybe they’re the same kind of evil. Maybe they deserve each other.

“One more, actually.” There’s that feeling from him again, the tone that makes Suguru want to agree aimlessly for no fucking reason other than the possible rush. And before he can fester; before his skin can start to crawl and his hands can get clammy just from that sheer desire in his voice, Gojo grins.

“You need proof. And I don’t mean her saying it, because you can bribe anyone into saying anything. Gotta show it, photo or video or something, balls deep or whatever the fuck.” That almost makes Suguru laugh.

“I don’t think she’s gonna go for that one, no matter how good the dick is.”

“She doesn’t have to know.” Now he’s really thrilled. He doesn’t know what it is, but that lights something in him, stirs in his stomach and causes a little quiver in his brow.

“Fuck yeah, man,” he’s really laughing now, pointing at the journal harshly. “write that shit down.”

There’s something unspoken over them now, a deeper bond than they thought they could have. Neither of them would ever admit it, but it feels like they’re those two high schoolers again, counting down til they can become something fucking great. This is the feeling they’re supposed to get from their fathers’ stupid fucking contest. This is actual competition, a chance to actually win.

A new air falls on them, mixed back in with that warm, rich breeze.

“Okay, that settles that then.” Gojo offers, fingers tapping the binding of his book. “She has to be attending the start of the year banquet so that’ll be an excuse to meet her. Everything from then on is up to us.” Suguru always dreaded that shitty event, but now he finds himself doing mental math to count how far away it is.

Even if the whole thing is trivial, and even if you seem like the most uptight thing ever, Suguru is a man of pride. And prideful he’ll be.

“We still gotta do the ‘new year’ thing, you know. They’ll burst a fucking artery if we say we’re not interested.” His voice is gravelly and calm and so not anything he’s feeling, but he thinks Gojo buys it when he chuckles.

“Can you be excommunicated from being a womanizer? Because I think we would be.” They’re almost joking like everything is normal. It’s different, so much different, but they’re acting the same.

“I’m gonna go grab some water and maybe call one of your maids to make lunch, you want anything?” Suguru shakes his head, shifting in his seat as he tries his hardest not to look at the journal Satoru set on the side table.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be back.”

“Whatever,” He waits after Gojo walks out. Waits a good forty five seconds before he stands up, and he crosses the room in about three.

He glances over at the thrown aside notebook, eyes quick as he scans it. The handwriting is adjacent to messy, scattered and the page is littered with semi vulgar doodles and side bars. It’s coherent, though, and even though they both know Gojo had no intention of giving it to him, it’s got his signature at the bottom.

1. Full fucking!! Penis in vagina

2. No signs of being inebriated. Absolutely stone cold sober

3. If it takes longer than a month after everyone is introduced we’re both “a couple of fucking losers” (< Sugu’s words)

4. Orgasms are important ! Or at least near orgasms (she is a virgin)

5. Photo / video proof. If you can’t get it, you aren’t in it (haha! get it?)

He snickers at four, the uneasy tone in the second sentence almost self deprecating. Despite that, he can’t help but feel a smidge of respect that he ended up adding it to begin with.

He grabs the pen from the table, pressing into the paper too hard as he leaves his chicken scratch of a John Hancock. Okay, maybe this will be fun.

taglist… @moonlight-pearls @sharkerino @echerie

[sleekervae]

Flickers | the projectionist (johnny) x reader

Masterlist

A/N: had this idea knocking around in my head for a few days. And while still not clear on his real name in the movie, I'm going with Johnny for simplicity sake.

Pairing: the projectionist (johnny) x fem!reader

Summary: late night at the cinema and a salacious book has poor johnny in a bind for his colleague.

Warnings: erotic writing, heavy smut, oral, penetration, nudity

Word Count: 4,436

Johnny first met Sophie on the tail end of a smoky September evening, the air thick with the scent of roasted peanuts from the vendor outside the theater. She was leaning against the wall near the alley, cigarette perched between her fingers, looking every bit like she belonged in one of those French pictures he sometimes screened after hours. Her boss—a producer Johnny had worked with before—had sent her ahead to fetch some reels, but it was clear from the way she moved, slow and deliberate, that Sophie wasn’t the type to rush.

She was all sharp cheekbones and sharper wit, her dark hair pinned back haphazardly as though she’d stopped caring halfway through the task. When she introduced herself, her tone was low and indifferent, like she wasn’t used to people looking twice at her. Johnny had glanced down at her shoes—simple flats, scuffed at the edges—and wondered if she realized how much attention her quiet presence commanded.

At first, they only spoke in passing, exchanging a few words while Sophie handled errands for her boss. But over time, she lingered. She’d stay after picking up reels or dropping off schedules, watching him from the doorway as he adjusted the projector.

“I didn’t think anyone still cared about this old junk,” she remarked once, arms crossed, her voice carrying a trace of amusement.

Johnny looked up from splicing a reel, the dim light catching on her pale skin. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure it runs smooth. Besides, this junk’s how I pay rent.”

She laughed—a low, throaty sound—and it hit him harder than he expected.

It wasn’t long before she started coming around on her own time, sitting in the empty theater while he threaded film for the midnight show. She’d sit near the back, legs crossed, watching the flickering images with an intensity that made him uneasy in the best way. One night, she waited until the credits rolled to ask him:

“You ever think about what’s not on the screen? The stuff they won’t show?”

It was an odd question, but Sophie was full of those. Her curiosity was sharp and relentless, poking at ideas most people shied away from. Johnny didn’t know what to say, so she filled the silence herself, telling him about the scripts she was working on.

“They’re not normal,” she admitted, the word slipping out like a taunt. “Producers don’t like ‘em. Too weird. Too… honest.”

She wouldn’t let him read them at first, claiming they weren’t ready. But she couldn’t resist teasing him with snippets. A line of dialogue here, a provocative idea there. The more she shared, the more Johnny’s imagination took off. Her writing was raw, full of heat and longing that had nothing to do with love and everything to do with desire.

It wasn’t just her words that got under his skin. It was the way she said them—leaning close, her voice barely above a whisper, like she was sharing a secret too dangerous for anyone else to hear. Her eyes would linger on him, searching for a reaction, and he’d have to fight the urge to shift under her gaze.

Johnny wasn’t sure when he started picturing her in the scenarios she described, but once the idea took root, it spread fast. He’d catch himself watching her hands as she gestured, wondering what they’d feel like on his skin. He started noticing the curve of her lips when she spoke, the slight rasp in her voice that made everything she said sound like a proposition.

He told himself it was just curiosity—admiration for her creativity, maybe—but the truth sat heavier in his chest. Johnny was down bad for Sophie, the way she embraced the messy, carnal parts of human nature without apology. She made him feel like a character in one of her stories, teetering on the edge of something raw and thrilling.

And maybe, just maybe, he wanted to see how far she’d let him fall.

It was one of those late nights where the air in the projection room felt heavy, the low hum of the machines lulling them into an easy rhythm. Sophie had perched herself in the chair in the corner, legs crossed, cigarette forgotten between her fingers.

“You really want to read it?” she asked, her voice a little too casual.

Johnny didn’t look up from the reel he was inspecting, though his hands faltered for half a beat. “Been asking you for weeks, haven’t I?”

Sophie smirked, but there was something sharper underneath it, like she was testing him. She reached into her bag and pulled out a neatly folded stack of pages, bound with a frayed ribbon.

“Fine. But don’t blame me if it messes with your head,” she said, tossing it onto the counter.

He wiped his hands on his trousers before picking it up, the weight of her work feeling heavier than it should’ve. The title scrawled across the top in her loopy handwriting read Flickers.

Johnny picked the script off the counter, his fingers brushing the ribbon binding it together. The room felt warmer now, Sophie’s proximity a heavy presence that made it harder to focus. He flipped through the pages until he landed on a scene near the middle—words catching his eye like fireflies in the dark.

He cleared his throat, half for himself and half to test the waters. “Mind if I…”

Sophie raised a brow, but there was a softness to her smirk. “Go ahead... If you dare.”

The challenge in her voice spurred him on, and he began to read.

“'Paul's hands traced the curves of her body, firm and possessive. His voice was a husky whisper in her ear as he demanded, "Tell me how much you want me." Lucille gasped, her body responding eagerly, guiding his hands to where she needed him most.'

“'His grip tightened around her as he felt her body molding to his touch, her warmth enveloping him. His tongue darted out to taste her skin, and she shivered beneath him in response. She arched her back, pushing herself closer to him as he traced patterns over her stomach and sides with his fingers. The softness of her skin sent shockwaves of desire through him, and he growled low in his throat. His hands found their way up to cup her breasts, kneading them gently before pulling on her nipples through the fabric of her shirt. Lucille threw her head back with a soft moan, the sound echoing in the room. Her scent was intoxicating—a mix of sweet perfume and primal need.”

Johnny paused, his voice trailing off as he glanced up. Sophie had turned her face away, her dark lashes casting shadows against her cheeks. But she wasn’t as indifferent as she pretended to be—he caught the faintest curve of her lips, a smile threatening to give her away.

“Keep going,” she said softly, her tone lacking the teasing edge it usually carried.

Johnny swallowed, taking a seat in the chair beside her, “You sure?”

Her eyes flicked to his, holding his gaze for just a moment too long. “I’m sure.”

He returned to the page, his voice lower now, threading through the quiet tension between them.

“‘You like watching me unravel,’ Paul murmured, his hands tightening on her waist. ‘Does it make you feel powerful?’

“She smiled—a wicked, knowing smile that sent a shiver down his spine. ‘It makes me feel alive.’

“With one swift motion, Paul pulled back Lucille's bustier, revealing supple curves that seemed endless in the dim light. He ran his hands along the smooth expanse of skin, tracing patterns that made her gasp and squirm beneath him. His lips followed suit, kissing and nipping along her collarbone and down towards her breasts. They stood tall and proud under his admiring gaze, begging for attention. With a soft sigh, he bent down to capture one nipple in his mouth, sucking gently at first before increasing the pressure. Lucille cried out, her fingers tangling in his hair as she arched her back off the bed.”

Johnny stopped again, unable to ignore the way Sophie shifted closer to him, her knee brushing against his thigh. “This is… something else,” he murmured, not realizing he’d said it out loud.

Sophie finally turned to him, her cheeks flushed but her smile unshaken. “You like it?”

He let out a low laugh, setting the script down but keeping his eyes on her. “I think you’re trying to get me in trouble.”

She bit her lip, that wicked, knowing smile from the page mirrored on her face now. “Or maybe I just know what I want,” she said, her voice quiet but sure, “Keep going,” she urged.

The room suddenly felt claustrophobic as the scene unfold. His heart raced as Paul buried himself between Lucille's legs, read how she moaned and screamed for him, their encounter brimming with unbridled desire. Every word and gesture built to a tantalizing climax, sending Johnny's mind reeling with fantasies. But it wasn't Paul or Lucille anymore; it was him and Sophie. Her seductive smirk and intense gaze held him spellbound, igniting a fire within him that he could not resist.

“You write like this all the time?” he asked, his voice rougher than he intended.

“Only when I feel inspired,” Sophie replied, standing now. She stepped closer, her movements deliberate, as though testing just how far she could push him. “What do you think?”

“I think…” He set the pages down, forcing himself to meet her gaze. “I think you know exactly what you’re doing.”

Her lips curled into a grin. “Do I?”

The silence between them thickened, charged with all the things Johnny wasn’t saying. The way her scripts had lodged themselves in his brain, filling the quiet moments with flashes of heat. The way she seemed to know, without him ever admitting it, how badly he wanted her.

Sophie closed the distance between them, stopping just short of touching him. “If you’re too shy to finish, I can always act it out for you,” she teased, her voice barely above a whisper.

Johnny’s breath hitched. He couldn’t tell if she was joking, but the way her eyes lingered on his lips told him she wasn’t.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish,” he warned, though his voice lacked conviction.

Sophie smirked, leaning in until her mouth was inches from his. “Who says I can’t?”

And that was it—whatever thin thread of control Johnny had been clinging to snapped. He closed the gap, his hands gripping her waist as their mouths collided. She tasted like smoke and something sweeter, her body pressing into his as though daring him to take more.

The pages of her script fluttered to the floor, forgotten, as Johnny pulled her into his lap, her legs falling on either side of him. Sophie’s fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, her breath hitching against his lips. She didn’t hold back—her movements were confident, commanding, like she’d been waiting for this moment as much as he had.

For Johnny, it wasn’t just about the heat of the moment. It was the way Sophie unraveled him, her words and presence stripping him bare until there was nothing left but want. She made him feel like he was part of her story, and for once, he didn’t care if it had a happy ending.

The room was awash with raw desire and urgency as Johnny's hands fumbled to undo the intricate clasps of Sophie's bustier, the fabric falling away to reveal the soft curve of her skin. Sophie's nails grazed down his chest, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, as she leaned in to capture his lips hungrily. The sound of fabric tearing filled the air as Johnny tore off her dress in a rush, his movements desperate and primal.

Sophie gasped against his mouth, arching into his touch as he explored every inch of her exposed skin. Her hands were everywhere at once, tugging at his tie and unbuttoning his shirt with a fervor that matched his own. The air crackled with electricity between them, passion igniting like a wildfire that threatened to consume them whole.

Their kiss deepened, becoming a symphony of need and longing that echoed through the room. Johnny's hands roamed over Sophie's body, memorizing every curve and

dip, every smooth plane and luscious valley that lay beneath the surface. He traced her spine with reverence, his fingers dancing down the small of her back and around to cup her hip, pulling her against him in a desperate plea for contact.

Sophie whimpered into his mouth, her own hands finding their way beneath his shirt, tracing the muscular lines of his abdomen as she felt the heat radiating off of him. The fire between them was building, growing in intensity until it threatened to consume them both in its fervor. She couldn't remember ever feeling this way before – so alive, so consumed by a need that seemed to pulse through her very veins.

And then Johnny's lips were on her neck, trailing kisses down to where her pulse raced wildly beneath the surface. And despite herself, Sophie's knees began to weaken. His teeth gently nipped at the tender skin of her shoulder, sending shivers of desire coursing through her veins. She could feel the heat from his body seeping into hers, warming her to her very core. And as much as she tried to fight it, it was impossible to deny the sheer power that he held over her in this moment.

The room was spinning with a mix of lust and adrenaline, the two of them lost in a whirlwind of passion that threatened to consume them both. Johnny's breath was hot against her skin, his lips trailing kisses down her neck and across her collarbone until he finally reached the delicate curve of her breasts.

She gasped as he took one in his mouth, sucking gently on the taut nipple while running his hands down over her hips and towards the sway of her backside. Sophie moaned softly into his hair, her hands fisting in his shirt as she arched her back, the pleasure coursing through her. This was beyond anything she'd ever experienced, anything she could write—a fire burning bright within her that only he could fan into flames.

As his lips moved from one breast to the other, Sophie's breath became ragged, her body trembling with need. Her fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer still. She felt like she was dancing on the edge of something dangerous and exhilarating, and she was powerless to resist it.

Johnny's hands trailed down her back, tracing the curve of her hips before sliding beneath her, lifting her onto the chair. She let out a soft gasp as he settled her onto the wooden frame, his strong arms supporting her weight. The room was filled with a heavy silence punctuated only by their ragged breathing and the sound of fabric rustling as they tore at each other's clothes.

With an unspoken demand, Johnny lifted her gently and placed her on the small wooden table in the corner of the room. Her breath hitched as she realized how exposed she was, how vulnerable she felt. But in that moment, she didn't want to be anywhere else. She wanted him to take her, to claim her with a passion and intensity that was like nothing she'd ever known.

Johnny pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his hands firm but tender as they settled on her thighs. “Hold on,” he murmured, his voice thick with restraint.

Sophie blinked, her lips parted in protest, but he silenced her with a smirk that promised he wasn’t going far. He strode to the projection room door, turning the lock with a decisive click that echoed through the space.

“No interruptions,” he said, more to himself than her, before his eyes flicked back to her.

Sophie was still perched on the table, her legs slightly apart, the hem of her skirt riding dangerously high. She looked at him with a mix of confidence and vulnerability, her breath shallow as he crossed the room again.

“And here — I thought you changed your mind,” she teased, though her voice wavered slightly.

Johnny’s grin deepened, his eyes dark and intent as he stepped closer. His hands settled on her waist, drawing her toward the edge of the table with an easy confidence. “Couldn’t have that,” he murmured, his voice low and gravelly. “Not when you look at me like that.”

He leaned in, his lips brushing the corner of her mouth, his words a whispered promise against her skin. “Not when I’ve been dying to know how far you’ll let me go.”

Her gasp turned into a moan as his hands slid down, tracing the curve of her hips before tugging her closer. Sophie gripped the edge of the table, her knuckles white, as Johnny’s mouth moved to her neck, his stubble rough against her soft skin.

“Johnny…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Shh,” he murmured, his lips trailing lower. “You don’t want anyone hearing us, do you?”

He continued, his touch feather-light as he traced the delicate line of her stomach, her skin quivering beneath his fingers. Sophie bit her lip, her eyes closing as he marveled at the way her body arched towards him.

As she felt his fingers slide under the hem of her undergarments, she caught her breath in a sharp gasp. He looked up at her from where he knelt, his eyes dark with desire and a hint of fear. "Are you sure?" he asked, his voice barely audible over the pounding of their hearts.

Sophie nodded, an array of emotions playing across her face as she met his gaze. "Yes," she murmured, her voice trembling with a mix of anticipation and fear. She wanted this; she needed this.

Johnny's eyes locked onto hers for a moment longer before they flicked lower, the heat of desire still smouldering in their depth. He took a shuddering breath, his hands steady as he pulled her underwear down, revealing the most intimate part of her. For a moment, he simply looked, drinking in the sight of her before him.

Sophie's heart threatened to burst from her chest, the sight of Johnny looking at her like that making her feel powerful and delicate all at once. She wanted to reach out and touch him, to pull him closer and reassure him that she was alright. But she also craved the touch of his skin against hers, the warmth of his body enveloping hers in passion's embrace.

With a deep inhale, Johnny let his fingers brush against the sensitive skin before him. Sophie let out a soft moan, her eyes fluttering shut as waves of pleasure washed over her. His touch was gentle yet firm, as if he were caressing a delicate flower with utmost care. She felt herself growing warmer, her body trembling with anticipation.

Johnny's eyes met hers, the intensity of his gaze making her heart flutter. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against her skin as he placed soft kisses along her inner thigh. Sophie let out a shaky sigh, her hands gripping the edge of the table tightly as she felt the world around her fade away.

There was something magical about this moment, something that she knew would stay with her for eternity. Johnny's experience and passion were intertwined with her own desires, creating a symphony of touch and emotion. His hands traced delicate patterns on her skin, sending shivers down her spine and causing a fire to ignite within her core.

As his lips brushed against her folds, Sophie's breath hitched. The room was filled with the sounds of pleasure and need, of their bodies speaking volumes without a single word being spoken. She could feel Johnny's warmth at her entrance, the anticipation of what was to come making her tremble with excitement.

Johnny then descended upon Sophie's slick, wet pussy like a starved animal. His tongue delved into her folds, tasting her sweet nectar, as his lips wrapped around her clit and sucked gently. Sophie's back arched out as a moan escaped her lips. Her fingers threaded through Johnny's hair, pulling him closer as he devoured her.

His tongue darted in and out of her pussy, fucking her with it like a little cock. He teased her entrance, tasting her sweet juices before plunging deeper. Sophie's hips bucked as she ground herself against his face, desperate for more. Her moans grew louder as her pleasure built, her breath hitching with every flick of Johnny's tongue against her clit.

Her legs trembled as she felt her orgasm building. Johnny's skilled tongue worked her into a frenzy, his fingers digging into her thighs as he held her in place. She could feel herself on the edge, ready to tumble over into pure ecstasy. With one final flick of his tongue, Sophie came undone.

Her orgasm tore through her like a tidal wave. Sophie's eyes rolled back into her head as she cried out in pleasure. Johnny continued to lick and suck at her pussy, drawing out every last shiver and shudder of her orgasm. When Sophie finally came down from her high, Johnny looked up at her with a smug smile on his face.

"Good girl," he said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "You taste so fucking sweet."

Sophie could only blush and pant in response, still reeling from the most intense orgasm of her life. Johnny's mouth on her pussy had been filthy and depraved, but she couldn't get enough. She knew she'd be begging for more in no time.

With a smile that promised more, Johnny stood and pulled his pants down, his impressive erection bobbing in front of them. Sophie smiled up at him, her heart hammering in her chest. She reached out to him, her fingers tracing the length of his cock.

"Take me," she whispered, her voice full of desire. "I’m all yours, Johnny."

Johnny positioned himself at Sophie's entrance and slowly pushed inside. She gasped at the sensation of him filling her up, stretching her tight hole until she was overflowing with him. He began to move, his body slamming into hers with a rhythm that matched their hearts' desires.

Sophie's eyes fluttered closed as she felt Johnny's cock pound against her insides. She met every stroke with a moan or a whimper, her nails digging into his shoulders as she held onto him for dear life. The room was filled with the sounds of their bodies colliding—skin slapping against skin, breaths becoming ragged gasps for air.

The air in the room was thick, their bodies entwined in a rhythm that left no room for restraint. Johnny's movements were deliberate yet teasing, each thrust pulling a gasp from Sophie's lips. His mouth found her ear, his breath hot and unrelenting as he whispered.

"Is this how you pictured it?" he murmured, his tone laced with a wicked edge. "When you wrote those words—was it me you imagined, Sophie?"

Her hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tried to find balance amidst the chaos he was unleashing on her. She couldn’t answer, couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe beyond the sensation of him inside her.

"You’ve got a filthy imagination," Johnny continued, his voice dripping with mock admonishment, though his thrusts deepened with every word. "I read every line, you know. Every single detail. Do you squirm when you write it? Did you get this wet just thinking about it?"

Sophie’s moan was all the response he needed, her head falling back as she clung to him, desperate for more. Her body betrayed her, arching into his touch, meeting every movement with equal fervor.

He chuckled, low and rough, his teeth grazing her neck. "Thought so. You’re squeezing me like you never want me to stop." His hand slid to her thigh, lifting it higher to anchor her against him. "So tell me, Sophie—am I better than your story?"

Her breath hitched, and she forced herself to meet his gaze, her cheeks flushed with heat. “Y-you’re better,” she managed, though her voice was barely a whisper, “So fucking better.”

"That’s what I thought," Johnny growled, his lips crashing against hers as he drove them both closer to the edge. Sophie arched her back as he reached between them to rub circles on her clit with his thumb.

"Come for me again," he commanded, nibbling at her ear while still teasing her clit. With a cry, Sophie obeyed, her body shuddering with pleasure. Her walls clenched around him, milking his cock as he continued to move inside her.

Never had she felt so alive, so desired. The air was thick with the scent of sweat and sex as their bodies moved as one, lost in the haze of desire and passion. Johnny's lips found hers once more, their tongues tangling in a messy dance of lust and love.

He pulled out at the last moment, his come splattering against her swollen clit. She cried out in ecstasy as he filled her up again, painting her insides with his release. And then they collapsed together in a heap on the table, their breathing ragged and heavy as they came down from their high.

Sophie couldn't believe it—she'd never felt anything like this before. This raw, unrestrained passion that burned bright between them. As she looked into Johnny's eyes, she knew that whatever words she’d written couldn’t truly capture the essence of their connection. Not like this.

Their bodies, slick with sweat and desire, lay entwined, hearts pounding in sync with the fading echoes of their passionate embrace. As their breaths slowly returned to normal, Sophie traced her fingers through the damp hair on Johnny's chest, marveling at the man before her. He was more than just a character in her story; he was real, and he had brought her words to life in a way she never thought possible.

Johnny turned his head towards her hand and captured it in his, bringing it to his lips for a gentle kiss. "That was... incredible," he whispered, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears of overwhelming emotion. "You truly are a wordsmith, Sophie."

She smiled, the corners of her lips turning up in a knowing grin. "I can't take all the credit. You helped bring the idea to life."

He chuckled softly and brushed a strand of hair from her face. "Well then, let's write another chapter, shall we?"

[theladyheroine]

Minibots in TF One 🪐🛸

❥ Hello everyone! Taking another break today, but I was watching TFOne with my sister & it drew me back to this idea I had! Thank you & enjoy! 🥳

So real quick, I know they’re called Mini-Cons sometimes in comics or other media, but for this headcanon I’m just gonna call the little Cybertronians Mini-Bots! Anywho, I mentioned that they’d be in the background during Transformers One in the post above, but I wanted to elaborate on that since they’re so cute. 🥰 I apologize if that’s a strange reason but let’s get into it! 😅

Now I don’t think the Mini-Bots would be half the size of a Cybertronian because I forgot Bots without a T-Cog reach less than that or just barely. So I’d imagine they’d be around 10ft tall or below since the Cogless Bots are all around 18ft and over.

Thank you to whoever made this height chart! 🙏 I hope you don’t mind me using it!

Since Mini-Bots are so little I assume they would take over positions that require extra assistance or maybe even maintenance since they’re a little small to take on big jobs like mining or similar work.

Personal assistants, package delivery, organizers, maintenance, or social workers are some of the main jobs I feel they’d have during TFOne. Education would be another addition, but not for combat purposes really. Some of the bigger jobs could also include archiving, science, and entertainment. But by entertainment I mean any kind of creative field too! Plus these occupations don’t seem very dangerous either.

Now since these guys are smaller they’re very good at building and fixing things. I imagine they make all the machinery for the mining facilities, as well as handle any transportation units. They make sure everything is operational and if something is broken they go to fix it. In a way they’re kind of like little dwarves! 😆

Anywho, I feel they’d be very good at arts & crafts too. According to a post I found in the TF Wiki, fashion is a thing in Cybertron! I unfortunately can’t find the post now though, I’m real sorry. 😅🙏 But things like jewelry, accessories, battle masks, or other attachments for Cybertronians would be their field of expertise. Especially when Optimus Prime first takes over, they have more room to express themselves!

While battle attachments aren’t really necessary until much later in this universe, you can anything leave up to the Mini-Bots! They might even get you a discount if you come in with the parts yourself. But they’re willing to do a simple repair job too. It’s what they were made for!

Also real quick, if anyone has anything to say about fashion in this universe feel free to let me know! I’ve seen a couple posts about it online and it sounds so cool!

As for transportation, they can ride the shuttles and trains just like any other bot, but it might be difficult to get around. Similar to Zootopia, I imagine they’d have their own section to ride on or even their own modes of transportation. Kind of like little tubes or tunnels running around Iacon?

Or if they do choose to ride the shuttles with other Cybertronians, I can imagine them climbing up their taller buddies for a better view. That just sounds so cute! ☺️

There are a smaller buildings that act as charging stations or homes for the Mini-Bots. Shops too! Of course they sell what they have to everyone, but if a customer or a client is a little on the big side then there’s a window they can walk up to and ask for anything.

That is all I have for now but let me know if you have some new ideas! I love talking about the culture in this movie, especially since we’ve seen that Cybertron looks like now! But I hope you all enjoyed, thank you!

[utopia-and-broken-cynics]

So. Since you've properly read Pinocchio now. What are your thoughts on how the book was adapted into Cedar and her dad in EAH

I need everyone to look me dead in my eyes, okay? I love Ever After High. I love Pinocchio. 

No matter what I say later, you have to remember I love Ever After High, okay? Got that? Good. 

That being said, Pinocchio and Cedar in EAH don’t really seem to be based on the book, as much as the Disney movie (I know, I know, booo and all that), in the way that most modern adaptations of Pinocchio are based on the Disney movie. Cultural phenomena and all that.

I would like to break down some points of Pinocchio, link them back to Ever After High, and then explain what this means to me later. Okay? Let’s go!

[Please note that I make points in the order they came to me and NOT in the order of how they reference each other. This isn’t a professional essay, and nobody is allowed to grade me. Also, this is purely from memory, so if I’m wrong, I’m wrong.]

What it means to be good (obedience, honesty, school/hard work)

The story of Pinocchio deals a lot with what it means to be good, a concept that does mostly carry over. Usually, good means honest, right?

Being good in the book means a lot of things. Pinocchio is often scolded and punished for being lazy, for being disobedient, and, yes, for being dishonest. He’s a complainer, he’s greedy, he wants to get rich fast without doing any of the work, and he loathes the idea of going to school. Classic little kid things, really.

School is the biggest one. As soon as Pinocchio is up and moving (and, y’know, after Geppetto gets out of prison— long story—), he is told he has to go to school. And he immediately, and I do mean immediately, skips. He sells his school book to go to a puppet show.

Later in the book, the reason the Blue Fairy plans to make Pinocchio human is because he did well and was diligent in school for a good part of the year.

Hard work is also a big one. After Pinocchio and Romeo get turned into donkeys, Pinocchio is sold to the circus, and is forced to do tricks and stuff to earn his food.

In the very end, to show he is good, and ultimately deserving of being real, he does hard work to earn money for his ailing father, and the Blue Fairy once he becomes aware of her being in a poor state. He grows from being an undeniably bad child, to being a good one.

Pinocchio lies to get out of trouble, more often than not. He lies to the Blue Fairy about being sick, about what happened with the Fox and Cat to get him hung from a tree, and about skipping school. 

And eventually, he just. Stops. He must have figured it was more harm than it was worth.

Blue Fairy

The Blue Fairy is a pretty big part of the book, something not reflected in EAH.

She starts off in a little sister role, getting Pinocchio brought down from where he’s been hung from a tree. Then he gets out of jail (long story) and finds out she is dead.

Then she comes back, transitioning into a mother role as Geppetto has had an… unfortunate accident at sea. The Blue Fairy is a fairly forgiving figure in Pinocchio’s life, giving him numerous opportunities to prove he is good, and that he is worthy of being human.

The Blue Fairy is so so so patient with Pinocchio, and sometimes he doesn’t deserve it. And I love her for it.

All that being said, Farrah should have been way more important and involved in Cedar’s life, ESPECIALLY since Cedar has already lost a Blue Fairy.

 Do you think I forgot?! Hell no! Did y’all forget that Cedar’s Blue Fairy went poof?

Considering how important the Blue Fairy is to Pinocchio (how they live together for a good while before the Donkey-ing, how quickly he mourns her), there is no doubt in my mind that Cedar’s Blue Fairy was very important to her.

We don’t know how she felt about the poofing, and we don’t know how their interactions went pre-poofing.

But this is about Farrah.

If Farrah is truly gonna take on the Blue Fairy role, they would have to do more than just say it. Let them hang out in the background, let them talk a couple of times.

I just think they should have been more of a Thing, y’know? The Blue Fairy is too important to the story for Farrah taking over to not be a Certified Big Deal.

Danger

According to my partner @the-lavender-creator and my good buddy @rarepairqueenmochi, the fox and the cat that appear in Darling’s horse’s tragic backstory would hang a child if it made them money. I would like to believe that it’s a point towards the fox and cat being very similar to their book counterparts.

Which means that maybe all the other super dangerous stuff that happens in Pinocchio could also happen in the Ever After High Universe. For example, Pinocchio almost gets battered and pan-fried at some point, could that happen in EAH?

What about the hanging? What about when the Black cat tries to stab Pinocchio? When he spends a little time drowning as a donkey?

I don’t know, and you don’t either. Moving on.

Pinocchio as a Character

Pinocchio starts off the story as a sort of gullible miscreant. He gets warned by numerous characters that “if you do this, things will go wrong” and he does it in spite of them. For goodness sake, he kills the Talking Cricket with a hammer because the cricket calls him an idiot for thinking he can lounge around and have fun all day. (The cricket kinda deserved it, tbf. Don’t call him an idiot. That’s a kid.)

Pinocchio is also (sort of) a sweet boy. He wants to do the right thing, but he also wants to do the easy thing, the fun thing. 

Why go straight home to his father with five gold coins and go to school the next day like a good boy, when he can go with these two people he just met and make way more money really easily?

Why go home to the Blue Fairy when Romeo’s promising him endless fun?

What you have to remember is that during the story, Pinocchio is (to my knowledge) between the ages of 6 to 10, and it shows.

We don’t know a lot about Pinocchio in EAH, unfortunately. We know he was friends with King Charming and Goldilocks in high school, and that he’s notably a wooden boy still.

I don’t think teenagers can really go through the plot of Pinocchio (not saying that teenagers can’t make the decisions he does, just that they are older, more informed, and likely more cautious. It takes more effort to get a teenager to bury money in the hope that it’ll grow a tree, for example.), but that’s just me.

Cedar as Pinocchio

Cedar is not a gullible miscreant. Cedar loves her father too much to sentence him to two years in a stomach.

Cedar Wood wants more than ever to be human, and able to lie. I love her so much; she would never recover from going through book Pinocchio’s shenanigans. If we assume that the Legacy system will go through the same beats and lessons, despite prior personality and values, then she’s, quite frankly, fucked.

Cedar doesn’t need to learn the lessons book Pinocchio, or even Disney Pinocchio needed to learn, about honesty, hard work, and accountability.

Maybe she can learn about the divide between wisdom and age, which would lend itself well to the whole Rebel cause that Cedar aligns herself with. Being that she’s willing to call out Milton Grimm for lying, though, she probably doesn’t need to learn that one either.

—

Okay, now that I’ve gotten all of that out of my system, let’s talk about what that all means.

Nothing, really.

Ever After High, for better or worse, doesn’t dig into the fairytale theme as much as it could. This means that we never get a full picture of the exact version of the story most characters are being prodded towards. They mention that the stories have changed over time, but how.

Cedar and the story of Pinocchio are no exceptions. Many of the details can be inferred, but many are just hopeful guesses on my part. 

However, while trying to tell a story about Legacy, they could have utilized elements of the story to add a little specificity to the nuances of Cedar advocating for choice.

It would make sense, given how the story of Pinocchio goes, that she wouldn’t want to go through with it, but she has to to get to the ending. The happy ending probably cancels out all the stuff she has to go through in everyone’s eyes, but it doesn’t to me.

Cedar will make choices that go directly against her personality, against her and her father’s wellbeings, and she will have to be okay with that when she becomes human. How does that make her feel as she heads towards her story? How does that make her feel as her friends choose not to follow their destinies? Does she decide to change how the story goes?

TLDR; it was adapted fine. I personally wish we had more Pinocchio themes and aspects referenced and mentioned by Cedar and her father, but considering how little Cedar is the main focus/a major character, I probably shouldn’t be picky. I’m just happy she was on screen/on the page.

[nerdieforpedro]

The tags are everything and all correct your honor

Pedro Pascal as Dieter Bravo The Bubble (2022)

[x-gon-give-it]

Headcanon, theory, prediction, whatever you want to call it,

but I think the reason that the universe Miquel hijacked collapsed, and not Miles, despite them both being “anomalies” is because Miquel was trying to change someone else’s story, as opposed to Miles who inspires other people to change their own stories.

Like, Miquel tried to force himself into a universe that wasn’t his. He took the place of his counterpart and pretended to be him, he was playing a part that wasn’t meant for him, he was changing a story that wasn’t his. And the universe rejected that.

Whereas Miles inspires people to change their own stories. His universe didn’t collapse because that’s HIS universe. It’s HIS story to tell, and sure the plot changed along the way, but he’s still telling it.

The same with 42-Miles. His story was drastically changed because he wasn’t bitten by that spider, but his universe isn’t collapsing because he’s the one still telling the story. He’s still shaping his own future.

And like how Miles inspired Peter B to have Mayday at all. Without Miles, Peter wouldn’t have gone back to his and he wouldn’t have had Mayday. But his universe isn’t collapsing because that’s a decision PETER made. No one forced him to make up with MJ and have Mayday. But Miles gave him faith and inspired him to go back and give life another try. (Don’t even get me started how Peter would have literally DIED if not for Miles. He was going to stay in Miles dimension. He was fully ready to deteriorate. He literally would have died if not for Miles saying “NO BITCH YOU GOTTA GO HOME” much less inspiring him to have Mayday, I’m just saying I’m just saying.)

And the thing is I don’t think Miquel realizes that. He’s so caught up in his grief and anger that he’s completely consumed with following canon and my never disrupting ANYTHING. He doesn’t realize that that universe collapsed because he tried to change someone ELSES story. He tried to become someone else to live their story. He didn’t try to make his own and that’s not how it works.

Idk just thinking thots tonight, And ATSV is always at the top of my brain

[citricacidprince]

Sometimes I see the way certain people in a fandom treat a ‘tough love but well meaning and trying his best in the only way he knows how’ Dad and I can only think “You have a horrid relationship with your father, don’t you? 🫵👁️👁️”

[lesbiancolumbo]

Hi!

I am not the substance anon and I haven't even watched the movie but I agree what you both said in general, bc it seems more and more that if the meaning of a movie isn't really plastered everywhere, people won't understand it and the moviemakers know this so the movie is dumbed down to the 100th.

For a lot of people that loved the Darcy hand flex, I don't think now they would understand it, even if it was already very obvious.

I am not against researching after a movie bc you haven't understand it, tell I have done it with decisions to leave and I don't understand some parts of it even now bc it isn't meant for me and it's ok, but sometimes people just don't pay attention or really don't use a single brain cell.

Even I that I have just seen the GIF of the substance knew that Moore and the young girl are the same character, they look practically the same and they kiss the camera in the same way! What did the people want more, a sticker on their forehead with "hi, I am x"?

i don’t want to blame everything on the rise of youtube “X ENDING EXPLAINED!!!!” accounts and cinemasins but those definitely aren’t helping. anyway i agree with you and don’t have a lot to add rn. if those people wanted a literal sticker on their forehead, i have good news for them:

[ghostbeam]

Fwb with Oliver who expects he’ll have to break things off once you get too attached but it’s worth it for a little fun except u never get too attached in fact ur the one who has to tell him it’s over bc he’s gotten too clingy

[tangents-within-tangents]

Sigh I swear the bar is so low with writing sometimes.

I’ve just been remembering how much it bothers me when there’s no lasting consequences or acknowledgement for things. When everything resets like nothing ever happened at the start of the next episode, or even the next scene sometimes. How cool and rare it was that Wally’s arm was in a cast for a whole 5 episodes of Young Justice. How relieved/excited I was when Mulder actually still had bandages on his fingers the episode after he broke them because FINALLY something carried over! Or when Hook was leaning on someone for support in the background after the fight scene in Pan. How impressed I was to see Katniss still crying hysterically for Rue a few scenes after her death. How surprised I was to actually see a hint of the effect of Echo’s extremely traumatic experience when he panicked in the medbay. How my heart soared when he insisted on rescuing Gregor because omg he’s acting in a way that makes sense for his character! Clinging to every small scrap we get to see of clones showing real emotion when so often they seemingly never bat an eye at their losses and never mention their fallen brothers again.

I love these shows I swear, but it just gets so frustrating! Like I’ll literally be so nervous no one will be affected realistically, or react like a human, or behave in-character and then I get so excited on the rare occasions they do. And then I realize wow the bar is so low, shouldn't that just be, you know, writing 101?

Like I remember some episode of some show (the Seeker? Or something idk) where a character was captured and tortured and not ten minutes after being rescued his friend was like “hmm you sure are quiet today” like YEAH I SURE HOPE HE IS?!

[prismaticpichu]

Hi, Pi! Hope you're having a good day. This is a little generic, but I love you little "Jenova shocks" that get Sephiroth sometimes and all of a sudden everyone's panicking trying to calm him down. If you have any of these scenarios, I'd appreciate the spookiness!

Hope you’re having an amazing one too!! <33 And omg, not generic at all! I live for these types of headcanons lmao! xD Always up for some good ol’ Jenova making a mess in the mental kitchen™️ shenanigans. Let’s do this! *plops on chef’s hat*

Even without puppet strings directly fettered to his mind, or even being in Mumsy’s direct line of psychological fire, Sephiroth can still act up when handled the wrong way. This fella doesn’t need to be a mesmerized, coerced-into-deadly-arson drone to be dangerous. No sir. Not at all. Certain triggers can still catalyze that celestial biology of his, and in the process, ultimately awaken millennial-old eradicative instincts laying dormant in his blood. This is what we call Sephiroth going absolutely Cujo. And it is very dangerous, and very scary.

Did you… did you not want 2K words of this? Oops.

~~~

It happened one night, at Angeal’s place, when he, Genesis, Sephiroth, and the newly-promoted Zack were all clustered on the couch watching a movie. There had been much squabbling beforehand as to what flick to watch exactly—particularly between the oil and water that is Genesis & Sephiroth—which ultimately prompted Angeal to let the pupper take the reins. It also helped that it was Zack’s first time hanging with the revered Firsts; Genesis didn’t care much for the “whelp” at all, while Sephiroth actually didn’t mind his presence. It was just a splinter of something warm, really, a slight elevation from the chilly neutrality he had with the other SOLDIERs below him. Surrendering (remote) control didn’t bother the man very much, especially when it was to someone as harmless as Zack. And especially when it meant that that control was not going to Genesis.

Surprisingly, a compromise was made pretty easily. Zack had cruised down the animation subsection in search of something wholesome and colorful—after Angeal said no to the “bloody blockbusters.” Hmph! He would NOT get nightmares. Anyways, what they ultimately stumbled across was something they could all agree upon: a nice, adorable movie with a smiling deer on the thumbnail. Zack wanted to squish the deer’s face, Angeal loved the floral scenery, Genesis appreciated its longevity, and Sephiroth had a hidden fascination with woodland creatures. Zack had picked well. Even Genesis admitted that the pupper’s taste wasn’t so “repugnant” after all.

So, they flicked on the movie and sat back. And y’know what? The four military minds did in fact enjoy it! It was so serene… so cute. Sephiroth stifled a chuckle as the titular deer learned to walk, Genesis humming along to the classical music. It was nice, really, Sephiroth thought, to just watch something so tranquil amid the tumultuous world they lived in, to fly off to a small oasis of beauty and bonding as he was bubbled in the warmth between his comrades. It was… perfect.

Y’know. Until It happened.

Bambi, as the fawn was called, was running. And running. And running. And running. Snow was billowing around him in blinding cascades of ice, the music escalating to match the racing legs of suspense. Bambi’s mother was right behind him—she was RIGHT behind him. But they were growing apart. Apart. Further and further apart.

Sephiroth raked his nails into the couch, his gaze becoming more and more fixated on the screen. On the deer. On the son. Locked. Praying. Fragmenting.

He was running. And running. And running. And—

No… no where was his mother…? Where was HIS—

Where was HIS—

The gunshot went off.

And Sephiroth felt the ringing.

Zack let out a little squeak, rattled by the sudden plunge in tone; Angeal cupped his hand over his mouth; Genesis breathed a shallow curse of surprise. Sephiroth didn’t know how long he was sitting there, simply staring, as Bambi crept his way out of the den. As he navigated back through the snow. As he called out in anguish.

Unanswered.

Angeal noticed the almost paralyzed look first, reaching over and pausing the movie.

“Sephiroth?” he ventured slowly. “Are you okay?”

Sephiroth didn’t hear him; the world still rang, serrated and knifelike in his ears. He stated at the frozen image now, at the fawn’s tormented face. One that was full of pain. Full of loss. Full of grief. Abandoned.

…Abandoned.

Abandoned.

Abandoned.

Abandoned.

“No…” He glared daggers at the TV screen, raking his nails deeper into leather. “Don’t leave your son. Don’t leave your son. Don’t leave your SON.”

“…Sephiroth?” Zack shrunk against the cushions.

“Do not leave your son. Do not leave your son. Do not leave your son.” He stood up, his focus honing into a snarl. “Do not leave your son. Do not leave your son. Do NOT LEAVE YOUR—“

“Sephiroth, calm down.” Angeal reached for his arm—

Sephiroth seized it.

And before a gasp of pain could be let out, as five savage nails plunged into his skin, the man was thrown into a wall. Violently. A bomb of plaster erupted with the impact, dust and paint rivering down from the human-shaped crater formed under the window.

“SEPHIROTH!” Genesis jolted up beside him. “What the HELL was that?!”

Unfortunately, the auburn was met with the same fate. Two blistering eyes snapped his way, pupils rattling, the man’s teeth bared, snarling, and he lunged for his companion—shoving him backwards into the stony ledge of the counter.

“TAKE COVER!” Zack threw himself behind the sofa, landing with a thump. Did this happen often??! What the heck was going on??! The General was acting so nice before!

Meanwhile, that General turned his seething attention back to the TV—to the son, to the loneliness, to the abandoner. ABANDONER. He threw his fist into the screen, and the lonely fawn went black.

He was alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Alone.

Angeal, coughing, peeled himself off from the wall. He gaped horridly at the condition of all three of his friends. “Sephiroth!“

Sephiroth’s head shot back towards him, and again he lunged.

Angeal obstructed the man this time, seizing him by his own wrists, his feet quaking and equilibrium faltering as he fought to keep those savage nails from plunging back into him.

“GENESIS! Do you have a Sleep on you?!”

Genesis collected himself from the ground, crimson drizzling from temple. He looked genuinely panicked. “No!”

“Why?!”

“Because I didn’t expect him to go APESHIT, Angeal! Why do you think?!”

“Great…” Angeal muttered, before a hiss of pain tore jaggedly through his lips. His elbows rattled against the force trying to bend them backwards.

“Sephiroth!” he futility tried again, desperate. “We’re your friends! LOOK!” He gestured with his head towards a side table, to a framed photograph of the three of them.

Sephiroth didn’t look; instead, he overpowered the other, and with a wildfire in his eyes threw his friend backwards and into the coffee table. It shattered.

“GEAL!” Zack cried, inadvertently revealing his location as he jolted up from behind the couch. Sephiroth snapped towards the boy then, the same murderous blaze now homing in on him, ready to lunge.

Genesis swooped in before he could; he wrangled Sephiroth’s arms, distracting him, grappling to keep him in place as the man clawed and snarled and balked.

“Jesus Christ what is the MATTER with you?!”

Another snarl was his response; another snarl, and joining Angeal in the bones of the coffee table as he overpowered him as well.

“Gahhhhhh!” Zack grabs fistfuls of his hair, panicking over the sight of the two incapacitated SOLDIERs. He needed to do something—quick! Sephiroth was acting like some kind of crazed Chocobo, all wild and violent. How did you quell a crazed Chocobo…? How did you quell a crazed Sephiroth…?

Zack willed his breath to steady, coming around from the sanctuary of the couch.

“Get away from his, Zack!” Angeal warned.

With no more roadblocks, there was nothing standing in the way between the rabid General and the anxious puppy. Nothing stopping him from whipping around to him. Nothing stopping him from utterly ripping him in two.

Zack stood tall though, swallowing his heart, and did the thing he knew best: charging forward and throwing his arms and legs around the older man’s neck, proceeding to ride on his shoulders like a frantic bull in a rodeo.

“Calm down! Calm down!” he shouted. “It’s okay!”

“GET OFF OF ME!” Sephiroth snarled, ramming into the wall in an attempt to shake his rider off; Zack bonked his head, letting out a yelp, but SOLDIERs skulls were pretty darn strong. He just held on tighter.

“Never!” he shouted unwaveringly. “Not until you calm down!”

“GET OFF!”

“NO!”

Sephiroth continued to snarl—why was he SNARLING?—using his nails like they were claws as he tried to scratch his face off.

“It’s just a movie, Sephiroth!” Zack let the words tumble from his mouth, a desperate solace he was reaching for. That was what had triggered this whole thing, wasn’t it? That scene! That darn, sad scene!

“It’s just a movie! You’re okay!”

“He was a ALONE!” Sephiroth roared, another bash against the wall. “ALONE.”

“Yeah! But you’re NOT!” Zack clutched him tighter. “You got your pals here, remember?! They’re right here!”

Here.

Here.

Here.

Sephiroth didn’t bash into the wall again; he stopped, huffing, like he was processing the other’s words. Like they were sticky, painfully wading through a wall of molasses in order to reach him.

“We’re right here.” Angeal echoed his student in a kind, strong assurance, his back cracking as he raised himself to a sit.

“We never left, you NUT!” Genesis joined his friend with his own plea. Whatever Zackary was doing—as insane at is was—it was working. Somehow.

And it was. Sephiroth stared at the two men on the floor, staring like he was trying to remember why he was staring and who he was staring at. But the fire was ebbing in his eyes. His breath was slowing, his heart was quelling. The Chocobo was quelling.

“See?” Zack said kindly, giving one last reassuring squeeze. “You’re just fine. You’re just fine… Please stop throwing people into furniture now.”

That seemed to push Sephiroth to the finish line; slowly, the man closed his eyes, falling to his knees as he panted long, pained bursts of oxygen. Zack dismounted off him, crouching beside his new friend in concern. His eyes were majorly strained… It looked like a migraine if the boy didn’t know any better.

The coast clear, Angeal and Genesis picked themselves up, making their own way to their friend.

“Sephiroth?” Angeal ventured again, also crouching down beside him. “Are you okay?”

“…….Yes,” Sephiroth said through his breath. “I’m fine.”

“That’s it. I’m calling Hojo right now.” Genesis stalked off towards the telephone.

As Sephiroth watched him leave, he let his gaze idly roam around, catching sight of the crater and shattered table and splotch of blood on the counter. Acute guilt flashed through his eyes, the flames smothered. Whatever happened was a blur, a nauseous smear of rage and emotion and something bursting from the trenches of his soul. But he knew what he had done.

“I’m…”

Angeal laid a hand on his younger friend’s shoulder. “It’s alright. I’m just glad Zack calmed you down.”

“He… did?” Sephiroth turned to the boy beside him, both confused and marveled as he met the young blue eyes

“…Thank you.”

Zack smiled at him in return. “Anytime.”

~~~

Movie night was relocated to Genesis’s place, as Angeal placed an order for some new furniture and paint. Needless to say the rest of the movie went much smoother; both Genesis and Angeal decided it was best if Zack sat nearby Sephiroth, which ultimately resulted in Zack falling asleep against him. And Sephiroth, for his part, didn’t mind too much. Just as he didn’t mind anything else in the movie.

He glanced between his two best friends + one, sandwiching him on the couch, and couldn’t help but let a small, warm smile form. The whole mess was a blur, yes, but one thing did manage remain clear in his mind.

The fact that he wasn’t alone.

[m0nsterteeth]

Not only is my therapist hella supportive of my weird ass goal in therapy to learn shapeshifting (in whatever ways are feesable but especially in dreams) and is cool with all the negative thoughts being a monster comes with (daydreaming about hurting and eating people as a monster doesn’t make me a bad person), but they are roping in a literal shaman to help me out. That’s only part of the reason why, I’m also plagued with sleep hallucinations that are distressing (these are unaffected by my antipsychotics directly as it isn’t psychosis so I’m not gonna request med changes). That is probably the more pressing matter for them but I will be sure to tie it back to my desperate need to be a monster. I need to figure out how to satisfy this need for my mental wellbeing. I want it so bad I have literally offered my soul to entities I perceive as real and evil, hell I do it completely unprompted at times. The fact that I believe it is real and do potentially dangerous things is alarming to me when awake and have my wits about me. It’s essentially like I am drunk and wandering up to random people with a weird request. Some have gently told me they can’t do that, some are rude and tell me horrible things about me and why I don’t deserve to be happy.

Part of this is being billed to my insurance company, which is funny to me, do have to pay the shaman but my therapist is so cool they are not charging me for their time even though it is over the hour limit. They are helping me out because they care/worry about me and it is very nice to feel supported.

[peapod20001]

I’m the type that can and will cry if think too hard <3

[no1ryomafan]

In my constant brain rotations of “why are people in the west so hard on mecha aside from the fandom can be a bit unfriendly” I think one thing I realized as much as I hate to say is how mecha is sometimes treated remind me of the constant hatred superhero stuff gets.

It’s such a weird comparison because with mecha I do not know what the root of it was-and I’d love to know why but I feel there’s either no clear answer or there is one and it’s stupid-where as for superheroes in the west while there’s still a dedicated community the mainstream audiences have become tired of them due to over-saturation, which I understand, but it’s caused such a massive dismal to the entire genre of it much like mecha.

People think superhero stories can’t have any substance because it’s all about fighting and not about the characters- yet forget the SIGNIFICANT impact they had to so much pop culture. How superhero stories were rooted within comic popularity, how superheroes inspired countless of stories, even so far as reaching japan since so much early anime was taken off of western media which birthed its own genre of superheroes. It’s no different to how mecha help started up the anime industry making it one of the most important genres to japans history, yet most people don’t know it and belittle it.

Yet in superhero story cases it’s even WORSE when people are against it yet then go to see one superhero movie because it’s animated and put it on a pedestal and don’t bother to try other superhero content even though they consumed is no different from the norm. It’s the exact same shit when people watch eva and then think all other mechas don’t compare to it, when the genre always had darker, mature and emotional elements, just only a select few decide to canter to a audience who doesn’t even accept what genre it’s from which makes it all the more frustrating to deal with.

I’m someone who’s hardly into superhero stuff even if some of it catches my eye but it sucks to see that the situation is pretty identical to how mecha is seen, that I can’t help to feel sympathetic whenever I see some comic book fans upset at the mainstream audience even if they too can be a little hostile.