#the sound design in that movie just HITS!!!

[kissingwookiees]

watching a react channel watch nope and realizing i need to rewatch nope

[just-a-living-meat-thing]

someone talk to me abt Sazume for the love of god auughhhh

[too-deviant]

ray bans.

with…ART DONALDSON!

contains…fem!reader, 18+ CONTENT!, handjob, p in v, public sex, this was written b4 the movie came out so excuse any discrepancies!

You blame the tequila.

Strong and sharp in your glass at the tennis luncheon your boss had invited you to, swishing around with every movement you made as you told an overexaggerated story to Art Donaldson. He didn’t pay a lot of attention, you could tell, but his eyes were so firm on yours that you needed to talk to get the nerves out. 

It was the tequila, not his eyes, that got you cornered in a bathroom too fancy to be anywhere but this cushy hotel, legs pushed back so far you felt a burn in the crease of your groin. Those dusty blonde curls buried between your thighs, perfectly calloused hands holding them apart so he could lap at you with perfect fervour. 

Your eyes were watering, and he gazed at you as you came down, rubbing up and down your legs until you were ready to push yourself down and onto your feet. You wiped the runoff mascara as best you could, but huffed at the stains around your eyes.

Art had grinned, slid his sunglasses from his collar and placed them perfectly over your eyes. You’d asked him when he wanted them back, and he’d just smirked. 

Which was how you found yourself scooting past old people in linen suits and straw hats, expensive bags and designer shades on their noses. Yours weren’t designer, but they were Art Donaldson’s, so you won. 

In this life you took your seat in the rows at the USTA Billie Jean King National Tennis Centre — a doozy of a sentence to tell your Uber driver. In this life you slid Art Donaldson’s sunglasses over your eyes and waited patiently for him to sidle onto the court, slam himself a win, and meet you in the bar to take them back. 

His hits were precise, hard, fast. The muscles in his arms and neck pulled beautifully. You pulled the plush of your lip between your teeth, letting it go when he hit another, his grunt louder to you know. Clearer. 

But as your eyes pivoted back and forth across the court, his opponents moves much more confident and fluid than his, the life changed. Now this life was a tense strain in your neck, your fingers tight around the dress you wore just for today. In this life, Art Donaldson lost, and when everyone else was cheering for the winner, you were watching him storm away. 

It was quicker to manoeuvre through the crowds now that everyone else was leaving. You didn’t have to worry about bumping into people, because they were all bumping into you and there was a collective agreement that any and all shoulder shoving slash toe-stepping was okay for now. So you slid your way through, sidestepping through the rows of seats and going down a row every time you got to some stairs — ensuring that it wasn’t completely obvious where you were going. 

You made awkward eye contact with the ball boy but your confident smile put him at ease and he dismissed you completely, allowing you to slip around the back of the stands and into the locker room. 

It was much quieter in there, the noise of the crowd fading into nothing when the door closed behind you. Now you could focus on your surroundings, the sound of water dripping and heavy breaths. 

You parted your lips gently, “Art?”

Footsteps, and then the blonde man was rounding a row of lockers and meeting your sly gaze. His own was shrouded in barely covered anger and light confusion, the latter crowing over a bit more when you took steps to invade his personal space. 

“You came.” 

“Well…” You shrugged, lifting the glasses off your head and tucking them into the collar of his polo. Letting your hand linger on the planes of his collarbones, feeling the heat radiating from the skin beneath the cotton. “That was quite some game.” 

Art huffed, “I was in walkabout. Shit luck.” 

You leaned ever so slightly closer, running your hand down his chest to just above the waistband of his shorts. You admired the way he looked under the lights — the beads of sweat on his jugular, the happy trail you could feel peek out from under the hem of the shirt. Your other hand stayed propped against the locker, and he was quick to run his own down your wrist, cupping your elbow. 

“Well…I say we pick up where we left off, no? That make you feel better?”

You narrowed your brows at him in a silent question. His minute nod was enough. Then your hand was sliding beneath his waistband, dipping into his underwear — Tommy Hilfiger — and wrapping around the base of his cock. 

He sucked in a breath, fingers tightening around your other arm, jaw ticking and eyes firmly on yours. You didn’t break contact even when you squeezed him a bit and he let out a shaky groan. 

You dropped your other hand, hooked your fingers around this waistband. Pulled it back so you could lean forward, eyes glaring at where your other hand sat. Then, with a noise so sweet he might have exploded, you let a string of spit slide from between your lips. Art watched it fall, achingly slow, onto his shaft, and then held back a cry when you started to slide your hand up and down his dick. Wetting it just right. 

You looked back up at him, made him look back at you. You pumped your fist slowly, thumbing his tip and adding his precum to your saliva. The sounds were erotic on their own, and even you had to tense your thighs together. Art’s own legs shook from his standing position, but before he could drop his head onto your shoulder you were removing both hands from his body and smirking at his painful moan. 

With your right hand still wet from his cock, you printed a perfect print on the front of his polo and pushed him gently back. He walked, transfixed on your gaze, until his calves were hitting the wooden bench and he was being sat down. He stared up at you, pleadingly so, and you lifted the hem of your dress just enough so you could slide onto your knees on either side of his hips. 

With your crotches pressed together, Art couldn’t stop his hands from flying to your ass and squeezing. You grinned, and his smirk returned in full force. 

“Should lose more often.” He murmured, leaning forward and pressing his nose against your chest, the low cut of your dress feeding his carnal desire to completely devour you. 

You hushed him gently, pushing yourself up so you could slide his shorts and boxers down to his thighs. His dick sprung out beautifully, making another wet patch where it hit the bottom of his shirt. You used your hand, brought one of his around so he could pump himself while you reached under your dress and pushed your underwear to the side. Then you were shuffling forward and letting Art align the tip of his cock with the wet of your folds.

You didn’t waste a moment, bracing yourself on his shoulders and rolling your hips along his own. Your breathy moans accumulated to the steam you had now registered coming from the shower he had abandoned in favour of letting you take him like this. His huffs and puffs only increased as he began to control your movements, rutting into you from below. 

The creaky hinges of the bench cried with every hurried thrust, but the shower muffled most of your sounds. You gave into your urges and licked a stripe up the plane of his neck, bringing your hands around to grip hard at his back, creasing his already ruined shirt. His own mouth was suckling and nipping at your chest, hitting that sweet sweet spot just in time for your movements to get a little sloppy. 

Smacks of skin on skin fuelled the fire in your gut, and your fingers coiled around his blonde curls. His own movements stuttered, and you let out a guttural groan into the humidity of the room when you finally reached your peak, Art following not far behind you. 

You stood with effort, fixing your underwear and patting your dress down while Art panted beneath you. Then you patted him on the cheek, took his sunglasses back from his shirt and put them right back on your face.

“I’ll see you at the mixer next month.”

divider by @bunnysrph 🫶

[chailovesu]

Random things u can add to your script if you are manifesting being famous

i think ima separate this into careers

model:

being on the cover of magazines

always knowing when a camera is on you + never have awkward pictures get popular

being considered one of the best new gen models and one of the best of all time

being signed to desired company

being the muse of a very famous designer

very photogenic/videogenic

have an iconic walk that everyone loves

you could be wearing something absolutely hideous but make it look good

singer/rapper:

every single song u make blows up on every platform

kind of rapper/singer that once u feature on a song its ur song now

if u cover a song the cover gets more famous bc it sounds better

popular dance trend being made to your songs

immunity to getting sued for copying a song

perfect stage presence

be able to dance and sing/rap at the same time

constantly be nominated for awards and win

any song u make constantly goes platinum and charts for months

having a song featured in a popular tv show/movie

be good at taking selcas and they always go viral on pinterest

easily hit high notes

unreleased music never gets leaked

being talented on a beyonce level

be invited to perform at places like the superbowl and coachella

be able to write ur own songs with unique lyrics

game streamer:

clips of u playing always go viral

have a connection with your subscribers + be everyones comfort streamer but not in a forced way

be really good at the games u play effortlessly and look good while playing

having merch that always get sold out

being seen as the main streamer for desired games

be entertaining to watch + funny things always happen on stream

subscribers always donate alot of money and give you gifts

collab with other famous streamers + everyone enjoys playing with you

have access to unreleased games early

have partnerships with really big brands

be gifted free games often by companies for promotions

people know u by face AND voice

if u wanna be a faceless streamer at first your face reveal blows up (in a good way not the dream way) and ur subscribers double bc of it

actor/actress:

being fancasted for your favorite cartoon character so much that u act in the live action version of it

always get paid a lot for your roles

have chemistry with your co-workers

be good at all type of acting (voice acting too)

easily attract roles

never get hate for the roles u act

always get awards for your acting

easily be able to do things like cry on command + be able to make your audience feel the emotion through the screen

be a very versatile actor like your range is crazy

applies to all:

seeing edits of yourself by talented editors often

pristine reputation + never being canceled

being that one celebrity that everyone defends like their life depends on it

Immunity to weird ppl finding out abt u

being likable in general any hate you receive just feels so forced

being alot of celebrities ideal type

being everyones celebrity crush

never having your xxxx exposed (or revise never taking any)

eye contact with u makes interviewers nervous like that one jhene aiko clip

people from your past only have good things to say + other celebrities love meeting you and only have good impressions of you

this one applies to acting and singing and modeling but being a highly sought-after person in that field

a fortnite skin? or being featured in your favorite game

still being safe going in public alone + fans respect your privacy

and if ur manifesting being a nepo baby

everyone supports you

in your childhood u were featured in alot of movies/shows (or just in the spotlight often) so people feel like they watched you grow up and adore u

being more famous than your parents + people feel like even if ur parents weren't famous u still would've gotten famous

having famous childhood friends

if i think of more ideas or careers ill make a pt2 but thats probably unlikely idk yet

[a-substantial-trash-pile]

Studio TV Solutions presents Half Life VR but the AI are Self-Aware (2020) [not a real movie]. A movie with a totally improv’d script starring a moltey crew who are sure to give you a rip-roarin’ good time!

anyway hi new au just dropped. i’m calling it HLVRAIM. it’s HLVRAI but it’s a blockbuster movie and the science team are played by actors. i have many thought on backstories n stuff that i will stick under a “read more” here otherwise this post will be hella long on people’s dashes. 👇👍 pls care about this i thought so hard and much

Half Life VR but the AI are Self-Aware was put out by Studio TV Solutions in 2020 and destroyed the box office with how fun it was and how well the cast played off one another. The cast was given a general outline for the script with the goal for it to be mostly improv.

Gordon Freeman: Mannie Flores (Dominican American, age 28, he/him) - Popular Youtuber/Twitch streamer (“Radi0Mann”). Got offered the role in HLVRAI thanks to the creative things he’s done in his Youtube/Twitch career. This is his first “official” acting gig. He was pretty starstruck at first, but then as he got to know everyone, he realized they’re all a bunch of dorks (affectionate). - Started off as a gaming channel, but then started branching off into various creative endeavors as he got more popular. He still plays games too though. - One of the things Mannie did in his internet career that hit the mainstream was when he wrote, directed, starred in, and filmed his own movie in just 2 weeks because he failed a bet with his audience. Except the movie was actually really good and funny and heartfelt (i want to say it was about “a man who got left behind on earth after everyone else was raptured because god literally forgot about him”, but i think the concept might’ve been done already). - Met Benji through HLVRAI. They hit it off and now they’re dating. They tried to keep it secret for a while but Mannie had a slip-up during a stream that sort of blew it out of the water.

Benrey: Benji Song (Japanese/Chinese, age 30, he/they) - Started off as a film sound designer in the industry, then through a series of silly willy little events—possibly even shenanigans—got roped into a role in a passion indie film that became wildly acclaimed and flung him into the spotlight. Been an actor ever since, but isn’t the most proactive in taking jobs much to their agent’s annoyance. People never know where he’ll pop up next. Sometimes Benji will sneak in sound designer work behind their agent’s back. - Honestly likes background work more because everyone’s got these expectations of them as an actor that they feel pressured to meet. But he’s also afraid of disappointing people. He’s working on it. - Met their partner Mannie through HLVRAI. Totally was a fan of his streams/videos beforehand though. When they mention that, Mannie gets flustered. - Does music as a hobby. Electronic stuff mostly—enjoys mashing together all sorts of sounds and trying to make them work. After HLVRAI, Mannie’s streams gets cool new music that’s made by somebody going by “johnwicklover1994.” wink

Harold Coomer: Hau’oli “Hau” Kaleo-Kirchhoff (Hawaiian/Samoan, age 66, he/him) - Old musician who’s supposed to be retired but once in a while will release a song or even do a concert (but nothing crazy). - Hau’oli is pronounced [hh-ow-oh-lee], but he also goes by “Hau” for the haoles’ sake. :) Kaleo is [kah-leh-oh]. also Hau’oli sounds a little bit like the name Holly so that’s a fun coincidence i didn’t realize until later. - Most of his music is chill island tunes but he has been known to dabble in rock and jazz. - Married to Mose (been together for 30 years and counting).

Bubby: Mose Kaleo-Kirchhoff (German, age 69 [nice], xe/him) - Veteran actor—been in the acting industry for a long time. One of his more well-known roles was in a popular sci-fi series. - Married to Hau’oli (they got married the moment it was legal). - i went with a name that started with “M” cuz when Gordon first asks Bubby for his name, xe’s like, “mmm Bubby.” and i headcanon it’s because Mose was about to say xir own name and had to swerve last minute and the thing his brain resorted to was Bubby lol.

Tommy Coolatta: Luis Tanglao (Filipino, age 37, he/they) - Child star who dropped out of the industry when he hit his teens and then came back years later as a comedian. He has material about how fucked up being a child star was. Will only take acting roles if it interests them. - They don’t care about how the public/media sees him. He’ll speak his mind and call out BS when he sees it. Interviewing them can be a war zone. - Hosts a popular podcast with some buds they discuss things like video games, their lives, news, etc. Just shooting the shit. - Sunkist is their actual dog and she modeled for the png photo that was used. Her name is actually Biko. She is a very good girl. <3

Darnold Pepper: Sage Haven (African American, age 40, he/her/they) - Famous cooking show host who gets offered roles in movies. Got popular by how unconventional her meals and cooking methods are and how funny he is. - Has had multiple food/cooking/baking shows over the years. Every competition-based one they’ve had focused more on good vibes, fun, and encouraging one another rather than drama. One show involved people competing to see who could make the best full course meal with the catch being they could only cook everything in a microwave. Many microwaves perished. - Changed their name to Sage Haven during their transition. They chose it because it reflects his passion and also is a play on the phrase “safe haven”, which is what she wants to be to others. - He has an adoptive daughter named Kit. She helped them think up bits and jokes. She also had to help explain what Half-Life was.

haven’t gotten to gman and forzen’s actors yet unfortunately. thinking gman’s actor could be a talk show host? because that would be funny. anyway thanks for humoring me on my shenanigans. bye

[physalian]

What No One Tells you about Writing #3

Opening this up to writing as a whole, because it turns out I have a lot more to say!

Part 1

Part 2

1. You don’t fall in love with your characters immediately

But when you do, it’s a hit of serotonin like no other. I’d been writing a tight cast of characters for my sci-fi series since 2016 and switched over in a bout of writer’s block this year to my new fantasy book. I made it about ⅓ through writing the book going through the motions, unable to visualize what these new characters look like, sound like, or would behave like without a ‘camera’ on them.

Then, all of a sudden, I opened my document to keep on chugging with the first draft, and it clicked. They were no longer faceless elements of my plot, they were my characters and I was excited to see what they could accomplish, rooting for them to succeed. Sometimes, it takes a while, but it does come.

2. Sometimes a smaller edit is better than a massive rewrite

Unless you’re changing the trajectory of your entire plot, or a character’s arc really is unrecoverable, sometimes even a single line of dialogue, a single paragraph of introspection, or a quick exchange between two characters can change everything. If something isn’t working, or your beta readers consistently aren’t jiving with a character you yourself love, try taking a step back, looking at who they are as a person, and boil down what your feedback is telling you and it might demand a simpler fix than you expect.

Tiny details inserted at the right moment can move mountains. Fan theories stand on the backs of these minutiae. One sentence can turn a platonic relationship romantic. One sentence can unravel a fair and just argument. One sentence can fill or open a massive plot hole.

3. Outline? What outline?

Not every book demands weeks upon weeks of prep and worldbuilding. I would argue that jumping right in with only a vague direction in mind gives you a massive advantage: You can’t infodump research you haven’t done. Exposition is forced to come as the plot demands it, because you haven’t designed it yet.

Not every story is simple and straightforward, but even penning the first draft with your vague plan, *then* going back and adding in deeper worldbuilding elements, more thematic details, richer character development, can get you over the writer’s block hurdle and make it far less intimidating to just shut up and write the book.

4. It’s okay to let your characters take the wheel

I’ve seen writing advice that chastises authors who let their characters run wild, off the plan the story has for them. Yeah, doing this can harm your pacing and muddy a strong and consistent arc, but refusing to leave the box of your outline greatly limits your creativity. I do this particularly when writing romantic relationships (and end up like Captain Crunch going Oops! All Gays!).

Did I plan for these two to get together? No, it just happened organically as I wrote them talking, getting closer, getting to know each other better in the circumstances they find themselves in. Was this character meant to be gay? Well, he wasn’t meant to be straight, but you know what, he’d work really well with this other boy over here. None of that would have happened if I was bound and determined to follow my original plan, because my original plan didn’t account for how the story that I want to tell evolves. You aren’t clairvoyant—it’s okay if it didn’t end up where you thought it would.

5. Fight. Scenes. Suck.

Which is crazy because I love fantasy and sci-fi, the actiony-est genres. Some authors love battle scenes and fistfights. It comes naturally to them and I will forever be jealous. I hate fight scenes. I hate blocking and choreographing them. I hate how it doesn’t read like I’m watching a movie. I hate how it could take me hours to write a scene I can read in 5 minutes. I hate that there’s no way around it except to just not write them, or put in the elbow grease and practice.

Whatever your writing kryptonite is, don’t be too hard on yourself. It won’t ever replicate the movie in your head, but our audience isn’t privy to that movie and will be none the wiser of how this didn’t fit your expectations, because it’s probably awesome on its own. It could be a fight scene, sex scene, epic battle, cavalry charge, courtroom argument, car chase—whatever. Be patient, and kind to yourself and it will all come together.

6. Write the scenes you want to write first

And then be prepared to never use them. It can be mighty difficult working backwards from a climax and figuring out how to write the story around it, but if you’re sitting at your laptop staring at your cursor and watching it blink, stuck on a tedious moment that’s necessary but frustrating, go write something exciting. Even if that amazing scene ends up no longer working in the book your story becomes, you still get practice by writing it. Particularly if you hate beginnings or the pressure of a perfect first page is too high, you’re allowed to write any other moment in the book first.

And with that, be prepared to kill your darlings. Not your characters, I mean that one badass line of dialogue living rent free in your head. That epic monologue. That whump scenario for your favorite character. Sometimes it just doesn’t work out anymore, but even if it ends up in the trash, you can always salvage something from it, even if that’s only the knowledge of what not to do in the future.

7. “This is clearly an author insert.” … Yes. It is. Point?

No one likes Mary Sues, because a character who doesn’t struggle or learn to get everything they want in life is uncompelling. The most flagrant author inserts I see aren’t Mary Sues, they’re nerdy, awkward, boring white guys whose world changes to fit their perspective, instead of the other way around—they don’t have anything to say. I’m not the intended audience to relate to these characters and I accept that, but I don’t empathize with the so-called “strong female character” who also doesn’t have flaws or an arc either.

A good author insert? When the author gives their characters pieces of themselves. When the “author insert” struggles and learns and grows and it’s a therapeutic experience just writing these characters thrown into such horrible situations. They feel human when they’re given pieces of a human’s soul. They have real human flaws and idiosyncrasies. I don’t care if the author wrote themselves as the protagonist. I care that this protagonist is entertaining. So if you want to make yourself the hero of your book, go for it! But make sure you look in the mirror and write in your flaws, as much as your strengths.

[tinytennisskirt]

a good old fluffy/intimate friends to lovers

stanford art ringing your doorbell at like 3am in the morning, drunk, with a bloody nose and a beat-up, puffy face after a huge bar fight where he was defending you after some asshole made rude comments about u. ☹️☹️☹️ taking care of him afterwards. him literally being on the verge of passing out from both the alcohol and his throbbing face. fluff and intimacy ENSUES. i’m talking like drunken love confession and everything. art would always get vulnerable, lost and sweet when he got drunk which is exactly why he avoided getting drunk often, but you found it sweet. this time things got a little different😊

Wounds and Words

summary: as above ^^^ (with my little twists of course)

warnings: mentions of a fight, blood, wounds, bruising. drunk art absolutely smitten. soft, fluffy, sweet.

The night after finals, you could finally rest. There was no more studying to do, no more late nights. Just summer. With the intention of playing grandma, you decided that tonight you’d stay in, shower, watch a movie, and sleep early. The day was long, but the shower was nice and the movie was good. Your hair airdried perfectly, watching a movie ignoring the sounds of post-final partying on the floor above you. You didn’t mind it, you were just glad to be drinking iced tea and enjoying the lack of stress.  You were just about to turn the TV on when there was a knock at your door. It was so quiet you almost missed it. 

You, in your loose pajama pants and tank top, turned the TV off and got up, arms crossed over your chest to excuse the lack of a bra. It was completely casual the way you opened the door expecting maybe a fluke or something strange, but it was just Art. 

Art Donaldson, the first person you met at Stanford, who had in the absence of your best friend and the absence of his, became one of your best friends. He was sweet, thoughtful, the best listener, and the kind of boy who wasn’t afraid not to seem much of one. He had been susceptible to eyeliner twice just because you asked. He watched your shows with you, tried repeatedly to teach you how to swing a racket, and was always up for coffee in the evening. He was also always there for you, so maybe along the route, you might have fallen for him just a bit. Who wouldn’t?

For the first time in all of the time you’d known Art, tonight was the only night you excused yourself from plans with him. He wanted to hit the campus bar to celebrate, but understood completely when you told him you planned to do nothing, which is why, when you opened the door, the first words out his mouth were, “I’m sorry.” 

He was standing just outside your room, holding the side of his face which had endured some sort of trauma. His cheekbone was bleeding and already bruising and there was a cut above his eyebrow. His nose was also bruising and bleeding and his lip looked just a little swollen. “Oh my god,” you said, moving forward. He was in a red T-shirt, but you could see the droplets that had fallen down his chin, onto his collar and the front of his shirt. “What happened? Are you okay?” 

“I’ve been drinking,” he told you, questions aside. You could tell that he had been, it was common sense, celebrating was celebrating. You pulled him into your room, guiding him carefully so that he didn’t topple anywhere. He went with it, and moved exactly the way you directed him, just a little wobbly. 

“No, I know,” you replied, concern might as well have been written on your forehead the way you looked at him. “Are you okay? What happened? Come-” You pulled him gently to the bathroom. He was more drunk than usual- when you went out, he was usually the designated driver and when it was just the two of you in either one of your dorms, he was always just a little more sober than you. But right now he was out of it, majorly, beyond what you’d seen from him. It probably also didn’t help that he was bleeding from the face quite a bit. 

He was putty in your hands as you sat him on the closed seat of your toilet. “I’m sorry, I know you didn’t want to do anything tonight. I didn’t know I was walking here until I was here.” He said, slurring just a little. 

“Art, it’s okay,” you managed a smile as you leaned over and grabbed your basket of facecloths. The whole thing toppled over but one fell into the sink and you turned on the tap. “You’re not answering, though. Are you okay?” 

He nodded, a small movement. “Better now.” He smiled back. 

You left him just momentarily to grab a cup from the other room and bring it back, filling it with water before shutting the sink off. You looked at Art again, who had his head down, looking at his hands, which you now noticed were beaten up as well. This was the product of a fight, you presumed by the way his knuckles were messed up. Art wasn’t the fighting type, he was one of the softest people you knew. The only thing about him that revolved around impact was hitting a tennis ball. Aside from that, he was always very soft-handed. Noted from every time he moved your hair from your face for you or when he held your hair when you threw up. When he hugged you, he was never too tight with it. He braided your hair once- he watched a video on how. So how he got into a fight was beyond you. 

“Art?” You sighed, sitting on the edge of the bathtub next to him. 

He lifted his head, to him, you were spinning. “Mhm?” He was so out of it. “Hi.” 

The grin that spread up his face was sweet almost, along with his little greeting. It almost made you want to grin back. “Hi.” You smiled. “Drink this for me?” 

“Water?” 

“Water,” you nodded, handing him the cup. He took it, drank it, all of it. “I’m going to clean you up, is that okay? It might hurt.” 

He nodded back, “Mhm.” He scrunched his nose just a little as you stood to get the wet cloth. You opened your little first aid kid and rested it on your knees. He was putty again, almost limp, eyes closed. You clicked your tongue. “I’m sorry, I’m tired.” He replied. “One too many.” 

“Seems like it,” you answered. “This is going to hurt a little-” You pressed the cloth gently against the cut above his brow. He winced, scrunching his nose again. It was cute- you wished it didn’t come from pain. “I’m wondering if you’re going to tell me what happened?” 

“You’re so nice,” he cut in, opening his eyes again. They were soft, settled on you with some sort of meaning. “And you smell good.” 

You giggled just a little, moving the cloth to clean his cheekbone, keeping the pressure light. “You’re sweet. Thank you. Hold still, please.” 

He grinned again, shutting his eyes and letting you clean him up. He was still so pretty even with all the bruising and slight swelling to his face. You carefully wiped away all the excess blood and his nose stopped bleeding. You poured him another cup of water, which he drank gratefully, but it didn’t sober him up much. You tilted your head to the side and dabbed up more of the blood from the wound on his cheekbone. It hurt to see him so pained, but he took it like a champ. “You always take care of me, I feel bad.” He sighed a little as you wiped down over his chin gently. 

“You don’t need to feel bad and it’s not like it’s unequal. You take care of me too.” 

He hummed just a little, “No. Not like this. Feels unfair.”

“We’re friends, Art, it’s fair. I don’t mind at all, I just want you to be okay.” You told him patiently. His eyes gazed over your face, gently letting the cloth move over his lower lip. His eyes were set on your eyes, your eyelashes, your lips, back to your eyes. “But what would you do without me, hm?” You smiled. 

He smiled back, his head falling just a little. If he wasn’t bruising you would have seen the pink flush that took over his cheeks and nose. “I don’t know.” 

“I don’t want you to know,” you told him. His grin was boyish and endearing, sincere and oddly happy for someone who had been beaten up in such a way. “Hold still, I have to go over your forehead again. I’m going to hold pressure.” 

He held still and you leaned forward just a bit to press the cloth to his forehead. The bleeding hadn’t stopped, so you put your junior lifeguarding skills to work with the pressure to stop it. His face was just a little closer to yours. You could see his eyes up close and he was almost shameless with the way he was looking at you. Drunk, at the borderline of sleep, and major intoxication. Half-lidded, watching the way you bit your lip as you focused on him. “You’re so pretty,” he mumbled. You looked down to meet his eyes. He kept them trained on yours with laser focus and you felt your heart pick up. 

“Art, you’re drunk,” you reasoned, trying to keep in your nervous laugh. 

“I’m right.” He said, keeping eye contact. “You’re pretty. You’re really pretty, like model pretty.” 

You felt your cheeks turn pink, “Thank you. That’s really, really sweet. Nobody has ever said that to me.” You began to dig into the first aid kid for the small yellow tube of polysporin and the small vial of hydrogen peroxide to disinfect. 

“Why?” He questioned, an almost puzzled look finding its way to his face. His eyes were so soft, so innocent in asking. His eyelashes fluttered. It was a shame how bruised up he was getting. 

“I don’t know, I just… Nobody has said it before.” 

“They should.” He said, voice just a little lower. He hung his head, looking away. “Fuck, I’m so drunk. My face hurts.” 

“I know,” you smiled just a little. “Hold still again for me?” He winced as you placed a little cotton pad with hydrogen peroxide over his cuts, gently dabbing. He scrunched up his nose in pain, you inhaled sharply, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry, I’m sorry-” 

“Mmm- It’s okay,” his pained voice replied. His eyes opened once the pain passed, and met yours again. Every time he looked at you, you swore he was seeing something else the way his eyes looked so full of wonder. Like he had stars in his eyes. He was pretty too, but you’d rather tell him that when he was sober. Your heart was still beating hard and on top of that, you were still just a little hung up on how this all happened. “Y/N.”

“Mhm?” You returned, dabbing again. He winced, and you cringed. He went back to looking at you the way he was. Slightly puffy lower lip hanging just the smallest bit open. You watched him swallow, looking down before he answered. 

“I should wait to tell you what happened until I’m sober, I’m afraid I’m going to slip up or… something.” He told you, the way he spoke was gentle in a way where it seemed he was trying not to hurt your feelings. “I want to tell you, I don’t want to lie, but I don’t want to tell you while drunk.” He was candid. 

“That’s okay.” You nodded. “A secret.”

“You’re going to make me tell you.” His smile crept back up. “It’s so stupid. It’s so fucking stupid.” You grinned back, giggling just a little at his tone and smile- something light in a room with lots of tissues and cloths and cotton pads covered in blood. He looked at you with that wide grin of his and your heart skipped another beat. The smile fell to a straight line, “Don’t look at me like that.” His eyes fell off yours and moved onto the floor, pulling his shirt collar up to hide in, almost. He was so drunk, you giggled again.

“Like what?” You inquired, taking a break from drying his now-cleaned wounds, and moving his shirt collar down again. His eyes set on yours again. Like they were magnetic to yours like they couldn’t stray for long, evident by small glances at your lips. You caught it, “Art, you’re drunk. I should get you bandaged and to bed, get you more water, I-” You scrambled, but he stayed so still. So focused on you. 

You turned your focus to unwrapping the first bandaid. “I think you know what. But it’s… fine.” He said. “I’m saying too much, I think, I’m sorry-” He rubbed over his good eye, his hand then trailing down his opposite cheek. “I just think- I-” Once more, his eyes met yours, then looked away again. “Fuck.” 

“You don’t have to tell me,” you smiled. “It’s okay.” 

“No, it’s not.” 

“I’ll stay curious for a bit, it’s okay, I promise.” You gently smoothed a bandaid over the cut on his forehead. His eyes were trained on yours, unable to move, it seemed. Followed yours through every movement it took to place the bandage on. “I’m not upset or anything, I can’t be, you know that. I’m just glad you came here instead of bleeding out in your dorm.” 

He smiled just a bit more, “Thank you. Hey, your eyes are really beautiful.”

“You need more water.” You said, moving closer to put a bigger bandage on his cheekbone. “You are drunk drunk.”

“Drunk thoughts sober words. Other way around. I am drunk.” 

“Yeah, just a little.” 

“My face hurts,” he sighed. 

“I know, I’m sorry.”

He shook his head, “Why are you sorry?” 

“Just am,” you answered, standing up in front of him to get him more water. “I don’t like to see you this way. So much blood, I… I’m just sorry that whatever happened, happened.”

“It’s okay. Was worth it.” He turned his head shaking into a nod. “I’m so tired. Fuck. I’m going to say something stupid.”

You gave him the water, he drank it. You made sure he got every drop of water, stepping closer to collect his cup. He looked up at you as you reached for another tiny bandage. His hand gently rested itself on your leg. A cool hand on the back of your knee, softly. Your heart picked up for the tenth time. You spoke, the heart in your throat an obstacle overcome, “As if I haven’t ranted to you about the dumbest things drunk. There’s nothing you could say that could throw me.” You told him. “No judgment, I swear.”  

“It’s different,” he was dancing around something. “You’re so beautiful. I really can’t-” he was lost, his train of thoughts cut off. “Fuck.” He tried to hide his face again. 

“How many shots?” you bat it off. He was out of it, he was gone. He was so drunk. His hand slipped just a little up the back of your leg, then back down. You hoped he couldn’t feel the entirety of your body rise in temperature.

“Too many.”

You were blushing a little too hard, you looked away. “Hey- um- can you stand?” He nodded, hand moving from your leg as he stood. He stood close to you, so close to you. His cheekbone looked worse, but his eyes were still so open and pretty. “Okay, this way.” He let you guide him again but instead of making it to your bed, he sat on the couch. There was no moving him now. “Couch it is.” 

“It’s a good couch,” he sighed, eyes shut. “Your pillows smell like you.” 

You smiled just a little at that, but sat next to him. “You need to move onto your side, okay? Just so you don’t die in my dorm.”

He nodded, moving onto his side without hesitation, doing just what you asked of him. He was mumbling something you couldn’t quite hear. You gently moved his blonde curls from his face. You knew that spinning bliss and tiredness that came with laying down after drinking too much, Art had been at your side for a lot of those moments, pulling you up off the grass of someone’s lawn and making sure you got home safely. You’d woken up tucked in countless times after falling asleep in that state. You smiled at him, finally getting your turn. Aside from his beaten-up face, he looked peaceful. 

Your eyes fell on his knuckles and you quickly went back to the bathroom to get your supplies and as he lay there, softly breathing in and out, mumbling now and then, you treated his knuckles the same way you did his face. “You’re going to be so pissed when you hear about it from someone else,” his voice was only audible for a moment. It made you pause. 

“Hm?” 

“I shouldn’t tell you, it comes off bad. But I don’t want you to what it from someone else…” He said, his face slightly smushed where he was laying. He trailed off again. You slunk out of your chair and sat on the floor in front of him. He opened his eyes just a little bit. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” You replied. His hand was in your own, you dropped the cloth. The wondering what happened was eating you alive. “Art, what happened?” 

He groaned just a little, “Just assholes. Talking about the length of your tennis… skirt.” He stretched and yawned. “At the bar.” You could deduct one thing: the fight had something to do with you. You were a little taken aback, but there was nothing you could find in you to say. “Said something about doing things… with you… to you. Made a mistake and told them to shut the fuck up. But it doesn’t feel like a mistake. My face hurts.” 

“Art…” 

“Don’t tell you I told you,” he sighed, rubbing his good eye again. “I don’t fight, I don’t fight.” 

“I know,” you moved his hair again gently. 

“He swung first. I don’t fight, but the way he was talking about you-.” He mumbled. “I just didn’t…” He trailed off again, then came back slightly. “Want you to think… I fight.” 

You smiled a little more, “I know you don’t fight, Art. I know.” 

“I had to,” he replied with another yawn. “Could’ve walked away. I would’ve… if it was anything else, but it was you.” He turned back onto his back, your hand accidentally slipping down his jaw following the movement, your hand previously in his hair. “Always you.” His slightly slurred tone just sounded tired at this point. Your heart was beating a mile a minute. 

“Art… You should… You need to get some sleep.” You were too flustered to act properly. Should you leave him to rest, say something and hope he didn’t remember sober, or not say anything at all and just wallow in this new fact that his injuries are because he stood up against someone saying something against you? You started to rise from your knees, “I’ll get you some more water.” 

“Can you just stay?” He asked, his eyes opening again to meet yours. His hand reached out for the back of your leg again, softly touching. Like he wanted to touch more but everywhere else wasn’t safe. He had those morals, at least. “Please.” 

You couldn’t move. You were sure your cheeks were a shade of pink close to full-on red. He was touchy in a friends way, but somehow, his hand on the back of your knee felt more intimate than anything. His face was fucked up because he had to tell someone off for sexualizing you, that was crazy, that was…  His hand was soft and a little bit cold and as you sat back down it slipped back to resting with him, but you swore the feeling of it echoed in your body. “I’m not going anywhere.” You reassured him. “I’m sorry about everything.” 

“It’s not your fault,” he hummed, propping himself up dizzily on his elbows. His soft eyes would not leave yours, his smile was endearing, lovely, even with the puffy lip. His gaze shifted to different points on your face, and your smile never wavered in return. Once again, he rubbed his good eye, hand sliding down his cheek, teeth showing in his crooked grin. “Did I tell you that you’re pretty?” 

“You did.” 

“You’re so pretty.” He almost whispered.

“So are you,” you let slip. His grin widened, he looked like he was struggling to stay awake, to stay above the alcohol and the sleep that called to him, was pulling him under. You looked at the bandages on his face. The unhidden bruises. He was beautiful. Always was. You wished he was sober. 

He wished the same thing, “You are- I like you so much.” He spilled, slurring slightly, leaning just a little toward you like it was a secret. Your stomach did a small flip, you were sure you were reaching a shade of light red. “For so long, too, it’s been killing me, you’re so… perfect.” He blabbed. “Patrick said I don’t have a chance, says you’re too-”

“You have a chance,” you cut in. 

“I have a chance?” 

“You have a chance.” 

“Tell me that in the morning too?” His grin was now from ear to ear. You pushed your hair behind your ears. “Fuck- I told you, didn’t I? I was planning to tell you at…” He trailed off again, looking at the ceiling.

“Afraid so,” you giggled. He was forgetful, drunk, tired. You could see him fading as he lowered himself back onto his side. “I’ll pretend it didn’t happen. Tell me again soon, you get a re do.” As if his sweet drunk self was any less worth the confession. Your heart was beating against your ribs and you were doing your best to stay mature and hide it. 

“Re do sounds good. Mmm- Thank you for patching me…” He yawned. “Up. I’ll see you in the…” He yawned again. “Morning.” 

You couldn’t help but smile at all of this. His confession almost dismissed the rest of the situation, but compiled it was a lot and it was all for you. All for you. He was all for… you. He was so sweet, mostly asleep at this point. And he liked you. And maybe he meant it. You clicked your tongue, tilting your head slightly. He liked you, he had liked you, he got into a fight… and he thought you were pretty. “Goodnight, Art.” 

“Goodnight,” Art sighed, smiling. You watched him fade, long eyelashes closed to rest. You stood up, hand gently brushing over his hair before getting him one of your fluffiest soft blankets. You draped him in it, then turned off the light, setting a glass of water on the coffee table. You then went to bed thinking about everything… laying awake on your back. For twenty minutes you just tossed, thinking about the confession, the fight, everything.  He did something he would never do just for you, to defend you. You weren’t even around and he still wanted your name out of their mouths. It was so out of character but at the same time so undeniably Art. He was so sweet, he was… everything. 

So you got up out of bed. Turned the light on and grabbed a marker from off your desk. You slunk into where the couch was, where he was sleeping and on his arm, you wrote a little messily, 

‘You have a chance.’

You smiled at that, got yourself a drink of water, and sat on the end of the couch thinking some more. Before you knew it, you were getting more and more tired, and as much as you wanted to move, the end of the couch was pulling you in. So slowly, you sank onto the opposite end of the couch. You faced away from Art’s feet, but you didn’t mind it all that much as you drifted off to sleep. Your bed remained empty for the rest of the night. 

You woke with the sun, still well-rested. You were facing the back of the couch, but the light still got in your eyes. Slowly, you moved upward, to a sitting position on the arm of the couch, gathering your surroundings. Art, still peacefully asleep, his bruises set in. You sighed quietly before quietly starting a pot of coffee and setting out some painkillers. His arm was still extended, reading those four words. It was all real. Everything from the night before was real. And you’d just have to sit with that until he read his arm and decided on when to take that re do. You’d wait. 

In the meantime, he was still one of your closest friends. He was up not too long after you and you poured him some coffee and gave him the painkillers while he looked at his bandaged wounds in the mirror. “Thank you.” He said a little sheepishly like he was shy about this. Like he was embarrassed by it.

“Always,” you replied with a smile, “What do you remember?” 

He sipped the coffee, looking to the ceiling. “Last thing I remember is… Leaving the bar.” 

“Mmm, so not much,” you teased. He grinned back at you, trying to hide it with his mug. “You feel okay, though?” 

“Hurts to smile, but other than that just a headache.” He replied. “I really- You didn’t have to do all of this.” 

“There’s no reality that I wouldn’t.” You shrugged, walking over to your minifridge to see what there could be for breakfast. Nothing. You had nothing. Art leaned against the doorframe of your bathroom. With your hands on your hips, you turned to him. “Do you want to go somewhere for breakfast?” You asked. You knew he’d seen his arm. You knew you’d wait for it, but it couldn’t hurt to have a little fun with it. 

He grinned and his eyes fell bashfully on the ground. “Yeah, sure. Somewhere off campus though?” 

“And we’ll stop by your dorm so you can change out of your stuff.” You agreed, passing him as you slipped into the closed door of your bedroom from the open area. As you got dressed, Art was looking at the black marker on his arm. You have a chance. Messy as it was, he knew your writing. There wasn’t much he could put together, but he did remember in bits and pieces, the way you touched his face and hair so gently the night before. It came and went in blurry memories so in his head, there was only one form of context for the writing on his arm. 

 He grinned and stayed grinning as you hopped out of your bedroom, putting on your socks as you went. He washed the mug he used and took one last glance at his face before the two of you headed out. He could not get that grin off of his face. You agreed with yourself to wait, but with the writing on his arm, you had no idea how short of a wait it was about to be. 

[darealsaltysam]

I JUST GOT BACK FROM SEEING DUNE PART 2 AND HOLY FUCK OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT HOLY FUUUUCK I NEED TO. I NEED TO. I NEED TO TALK SO BAD HOLY SHIT

below the cut because oh boy do i have a lot to say and i dont want my poor followers to suffer when i post this

oh my god okay okay where do i even start

opening with irulan's narration to mirror her notes in the openings of the chapters of the book. oh yeah baby. i ate that right up

watching paul get close with the fremen,,,,, fucking hell that hurts. dune really is a tragedy at the end of the day huh. they go from reluctant allies to friends but the whole time you know the switch will happen any moment now and they will be devotees and he will be messiah and that gap between them will never be as small as it is out in the sand. huddled in those tents. sharing drinks and laughs. im not doing ok

this especially hurts with chani. their love is so genuine and pure and she wears blue for him (which by the way sticks out so much more with how muted the colors of the rest of the movie are... i could talk about this all day) but she can see what he is becoming and he's trying to avoid it for her so hard but there's no avoiding fate. LORD ABOVE!!!!

i loveeee jessica being the manipulator thats pulling all the strings, urging paul towards becoming messiah. rebecca ferguson is such a talented actress she really understands the character so well. also as a hashtag certified alia atreides enjoyer her scheming with her unborn fetus might be the most unhinged thing ever but thats also so fucking funny aka its as dune as it gets. dune is WEIRD and im glad theyre not shying away from that. thank u denis

arrakis looks so much more beautiful in this movie like theres defo been some changes with how its framed and presented it feels so much grander and idk just ??? what it makes me think is that we're not seeing arrakis, we're finally seeing dune. we're seeing the land as the fremen see it as paul becomes one of them. i might be looking too much into it but who cares. god i love this movie

but yes more on the fremen in the first section of the movie. i like how there's this cluster of non-believers almost?? its a nice breath of fresh air. its hard to believe every single person would be just devoted to the prophecy and it adds some depth.

i will say the one thing i didnt like is the way stilgar is characterized?? i dont think he was so blindly devoted to paul in the books, and definitely not alia and leto ii after him as the atreides line went on. he's always been a source of small doubt towards paul but i think they're moving that element of him onto chani, so i think i can let it slide. i'd like to see him question alia more in the future though.

the scene where paul was named muad'dib and usul??? god it was so cute which made it so heart wrenching. all the fremen coming together and welcoming him into their lives. as a brother. as a friend. only for him to turn around and make them all bow before him. ohhhhh i cant do this

OH BOY THE WORMS THE WORMS AND THE WORM RIDING AND THE AHHHHHHHHH OH LORD

jesus christ. what the fuck. how is this allowed on cinema screens how is something so amazing allowed

the tension. the effects. the sound design. the sand rushing past the wind the worm moving forward paul struggling to hold on the fremen all watching and then cheering him on HOLY FUCKKKK HOLY FUCK I WAS HOLDING MY BREATH

all the worm riding scenes were so intense and so well done like. when i first read that stuff in the books i didnt think anything could ever capture how i imagined it exactly and yet. AND YET. DENIS!!!!!!!!

once more dune hits the idea of scale SO well everything is HUGE and they MAKE YOU FEEL IT. that shows especially with geidi prime but ill talk about that in a bit. but yes this applies to the worms too lord above them WORMSSSS ARE HUGEEEE AND I LOVE THEMMMM

rebecca ferguson put her heart and soul into that water of life scene and we all need to thank her for it

the way jessica is so quick to switch up and go all in on the prophecy. it makes me think of leto's "im not asking his mother, im asking the bene gesserit" like. the bene gesserit really come first for jessica and she takes her opportunity to fulfill her duties. to be the reverend mother. to rub it all in the faces of the other bene gesserit. she is the mother of the messiah and by god will she make everyone well aware of that

okay. okay okay. i think i said my peace on the early fremen stuff. i think. okay fuck okay SHIT fuck SHIT

FEYD FUCKING RAUTHA LADIES AND GENTLEMEN

oh my god okay. okay ill admit it. i doubted austin butler. i saw the cast list and i was unsure(tm). i saw him in the trailers and my faith was restored. and holy fucking shit did he DELIVER

stellan skarsgård's baron harkonnen is already such a threatening figure it feels like it would be impossible to make someone even more terrifying and yet. AND YET

just the way he's introduced. killing servants with zero remorse. LICKING THAT KNIFE THE WAY HE DID??? OKAY WHORE. I SEE YOU. GO RIGHT AHEAD. MAKE IT SLUTTY IN HOUSE HARKONNEN. I RESPECT IT

when the arena doors open and that loud ass fucking music BOOMS. makes the room fucking SHAKE. thats a PRESENCE right there. THATS how you introduce your antagonist.

the music playing as he fights being as fucking deranged as he is. chaotic and weird and unsettling. just. oh my god feyd had such a presence from the moment he showed up and he did not lose it for a single second. you could feel him LOOMING over the movie the whole time just as he looms over the whole book from his very first scene. oh my goddddd oh my godd

GEIDI PRIME. THE ARENA. THAT MASSIVE HARKONNEN PALACE. oh my god. once more. that sense of scale. the harkonnens love to flaunt their wealth so ofc they have huge fuck off arenas and castles where everything and everyone feels so SMALL in comparison.

dont even get me started on the black and white. the way it accents those coal black teeth and mouths. the way it makes everything look so much more inhuman and clinical and PERFECT because harkonnen power is so absolute and ruthless.

and the way the baron sits so so high above watching the fighting. literally impossible to picture his elevation above his people above the rest of the universe. the way feyd looks to him for approval after every movement. even as his uncle is trying to kill him they exchange those little looks and feyd knows hes getting his chance to show off while the baron gives him his "gift" what a fucked up family what the hell

speaking of fucked up family! wow! they are SO fucked up! there is something seriously strange being hinted at with feyd and the baron! feyd making his own brother bow and kiss his boot! those constant threats of death against rabban as if theyre nothing! this family is capital f FUCKED up. they hurt each other as much as they hurt everyone around them. theyre made of violence and blood and they could never show each other kindness because they dont know such a thing

what can i say about the feyd/margot scenes that hasnt been said already. like wow just unpack the boy's trauma like that. use him and then throw him to the wolves. once again the bene gesserit make it so clear this is THEIR empire and THEIR bloodlines and THEIR messiah. too bad jessica doesnt see that collective "ours" and instead settles for "mine" when it comes to the messiah

special shout out to dave bautista before i move on. just cause. his rabban doesnt get enough love. he really sells that balance of ruthless power but also incompetency compared to his brother so well. can you guys tell i REALLY like this cast

WE ACTUALLY GOT TO SEE GURNEY PLAYING THE BALISET WE FUCKING WIN Y'ALL

the paul/gurney reunion being the last shred of the old paul. how he gets so happy "i recognized your footsteps, old man" shoot me in the fucking brain stem it would HURT LESS

a bit off topic and it happened earlier (sorry my thoughts are so all over the place) but i like how they actually showed the process of how the water of life is made. it was actually exactly like how i imagined it when i read the books so thats neat !!

anyway. back to the horrors.

i already talked so much about feyd's presence so just another small note. that scene in sietch tabr. he is a MONSTER and i am EATING IT UP

i cant even begin to explain. how much it fucked me up. when paul took the water of life. i knew thats where we were going. i knew it was unavoidable. and yet still. when chani bent over him and screamed at everyone for making him follow this prophecy. when she was forced to shed tears to save his life. when she got him back only to realize she lost him and he wasnt the person she loved anymore. it broke me

chani's utter hatred for the prophecy and what paul is becoming added to it so much. i know some people are unhappy with how much shes been changed from the books but i think its elevated her character and all these scenes so much. and oh my god does zendaya DELIVER when the spotlight is on her. i never doubted her for a moment but all those changes to chani really allowed to let her shine. thats that euphoria acting coming out baby !!!!

SPEAKING OF GOOD ACTING

TIMOTHEE

FUCKING

CHALAMET

listen i hate the fact that he gets cast in everything these days as much as everyone but hes such a talented actor and i cant deny this anymore. the water of life scene really sold it for me.

he was such a perfect paul already in the first movie but this was the moment it really came out. the way he wakes up so calm and collected. lifeless. monotone. theres nothing theres literally nothing

paul atreides the boy who became duke far too young is dead usul who was the lover of chani is dead muad'dib the fedaykin fighter is dead only the kwisatz haderach remains and thats what the prophecy was always leading us to and yet the moment it happens its so haunting

like i cannot say this enough. that complete switch is so sudden but so subtle at the same time. its still paul technically but hes so different

what makes dune's weird concepts so easy to take in once you get into the book is all that internal monologue that really leads you through these complex concepts slowly. and yet in a few shots and a few lines of dialogue timothee chalamet somehow manages to express the idea of "i just learned the secrets of the fucking universe and im about to start a holy war" ???? HOW DO YOU EVEN DO THIS???? HOW ARE YOU THIS TALENTED???? OH MY GOD!!!!!!!! IT WAS A FEW LOOKS A FEW MOVENTS JUST THE RIGHT TONE OF VOICE AND THATS HIM!!! THATS HIM BABY!!!! THATS THE KWISATZ HADERACH AND THE UNIVERSE IS FUCKED !!!!!!!!!

also. anya taylor joy alia. we only had you for a split second but i cannot wait for you. im sure youre going to completely slay the third movie. give us our beloved tragic meow meow. alia is my fave character so i will be JUDGING HEAVILY. she better bring her a-game istg

when paul storms the war council and just completely takes control of the room so easily. thats the bene gesserit conditioning giving him his pedestal and he is making the most of it. he knows exactly what the fuck hes doing. and once more oh my goddddd all that shouting all that emotion and yet a complete lack of it. timothee spare a crumb of talent for the rest of us

also the way in that scene gurney is hesitant about it all until paul proclaims himself the duke of arrakis. and suddenly gurney has house atreides again and he doesnt care what chani does anymore. hes a follower to paul just as everyone else in that room. nothing changes. fuck me man i cant do this anymore

have i mentioned yet im so excited for chani in the next movie. her arc is so interesting. children of dune is defo not happening with the way chani has been set up so i doubt we'll see leto ii and ghanima but. lets hope we still get all the cool stuff wit alia at least. and maybe chani can be the one who leads the charge against her

okay i need to really fucking. get along with it im dragging this post on im so sorry this movie is eating my brain alive

chani still wearing blue during the final fight. im not saying more than that i might cry if i think about it too much

THAT. FINAL. FIGHT. OH MY GODDD OH MY GOD

IT ALL CAME TOGETHER SO SO WELL

THE WORMS

THE SENSE OF SCALE

THE FIGHT CHOREOGRAPHY

THE MUSIC HOLY FUCK THE MUSIC HANS ZIMMER YOU OUTDO YOURSELF EVERY TIME

THE SOUND

EVERYTHING FLOWING TOGETHER SO WELL

the way the fremen fight for their messiah but still fly the atreides banner. the way paul leads them as their messiah and as a "fremen" but always proclaims himself duke of house atreides first. oh lorddd im unwell

every time paul menacingly emerged from fog/sand/smoke my life was extended by like 10 years thank u denis

gurney killing rabban with as much ease as he did cleared my skin and watered my crops <3

the way the baron was literally dying and still crawling towards the throne.......... the way at the same time feyd ignored him completely and looked towards the doors reveling in the fight ahead..... if that doesnt tell u everything you need to know about house harkonnen idk what will yall

i also love how no one intervenes as paul walks in and kills the baron. not even feyd. feyd looks like he was a little TOO into it as paul killed him tbh. feyd u little freak. austin butler you talented talented man. im unwell

i AM sad we didnt get to see baby alia stab him but ah well. we got a bunch of other weird dune shit so ill let this one slide. the psychic toddler may be too much even for denis and everything he did give us. we'll always have our 1984 alia <3

OHOHOHOHOHOHOH. OH. HERE WE GO

HERE WE GO YALL

THE SCENE IVE BEEN WAITING FOR SINCE READING THE BOOK

THE SCENE THEY SHOWED BITS OF IN THE TRAILER AND THE SCENE IVE BEEN NON STOP YEARNING FOR SINCE!!!

THE DUEL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

oh my god oh my god oh my goddddd where do i even start

okay so. the way theres no music. no fancy cuts no slow mo no over the top effects. its just the slashing of the blades and those BEAUTIFUL shadowed shots with the setting sun in the background. this really is the sun setting on the peaceful universe. just pain and suffering ahead marked with the blood spilled from the two who were meant to produce the messiah but who both got thrown off this path by the greed and selfishness of their forefathers. guys im normal about paul and feyd. definitely. i definitely have very normal thoughts about how they are foils and yet two sides of the same coin. yes guys

paul making the emperor kiss his ring is already such an insane fucking scene and it translated to the screen so well. amazing performances all around

i didnt talk much about florence pugh's irulan but she really didnt have much time to shine. im excited to see where she goes next and i definitely think shes a great fit but i need to see more of her to really be able to say more

i will say this. the way chani, irulan and jessica are the only ones who dont kneel for paul. the three most important women in his life who give him his power, everything he has. jessica made him and she made him the messiah. chani opened her life up to him, helped him become and in turn control the fremen, and she shed her tears for him and fulfilled her role in the prophecy against her wishes. irulan is his path to the throne, his key to being emperor. and none of them bow before him because why would they bow before a power they are responsible for, a power they own, a power they gave?

but for chani its different ofc. she also refuses to bow because she despises everything paul stands for.

oh my god i could say so much about the last scene being chani. not paul reveling in his victory. paul leaves for his next bloodshed and chani is left behind crying for the person she loves who she knows is gone. crying for her people, again enslaved. crying those same tears that brought the messiah back into this world.

theres a lot to be said about the role of gender in dune and how it hangs over every facet of this world but thats a whole separate analysis post to be had so ill just throw it down here in this little point

another thing chani does very well in the movies is she really makes paul's villainy explicitly clear. SO many people read dune and completely misunderstand it and walk away from it concluding its a "white savior narrative" and nothing more which. yes!! yes it is!!!! but thats not a good thing!!!! its never stated to be a good thing!!!!

this movie is not gonna let you misunderstand the message of the story no matter how blind you try to be to it. paul is not a good guy. hes never been the good guy. hes the protagonist, but hes not the hero. and chani allows that to translate from book to movie very well. have i mentioned yet i love movie chani

chani fills in the holes left behind by the narration and internal monologues of the book and, bonus points, she holds the people who dont understand what dune is about by the hand and tells them explicitly "PAUL IS A BAD GUY!!! DONT IDOLIZE PAUL!!!! DONT WALK AWAY FROM DUNE THINKING ITS PRAISING PAUL'S ACTIONS!!!"

i think thats pretty much all i had to say. i might reblog with additions as they hit me but yeah i. i enjoyed the movie. so so much. i think i might watch it again sometime soon while its still in cinemas.

sorry for being unhinged hope u enjoyed my rants. kiss kiss night night <3

[phecdasolar]

Tumblr I need your help I am in dire need of feral/unhinged Disaster Twins fics pleaseeee (and maybe Mikey as a bonus) I’m just in love with the idea of Raph being the impulse control for once with this iteration, and just the second he’s out of commission the other three go insane.

Weapons of War, Bioengineered Killing Machines, Manufactured Supersoldiers Rottmnt turtles my BELOVEDS

And maybe just like,,, set Leo and Donnie loose on one of the other dimensions and have them absolutely horrifically annihilate their counterparts’ villains while they watch on in horror

(B.E.A.S.T. was SUCH a good fic you guys oh my GOSH go read it I’m begging you-)

I NEED to have it addressed in fic form that the Rise turtles are fundamentally different than all their other counterparts, because their counterparts? They were accidents. Just a couple of turtles splashed with mutagen and oh look now they’re people but Green. (Huge oversimplification I’m aware but hear me out okay-)

But the Rise boys were created. They were specifically designed to be weapons of mass destruction. They were built with the intent to cause harm which means they were bioengineered to be stronger, smarter(?), faster, to heal quicker, to have the capacity to take hard hits while dishing out even harder ones, they were literally forged with a purpose to kill.

Add on their mystic powers? Then their unlocked Ninpo? You can’t honestly tell me that these four aren’t the strongest and potentially deadliest version of themselves out there.

Yes they still had to learn things, as did the other iterations, they weren’t immediately good (that much is obvious, like c’mon it’s IN the name) but I don’t think the other iterations possess the same instincts as these guys do. They’re just so. Unhinged. They’ve all had their moments in the show I think where it’s obvious they’re not really,,, stable. I love them.

In a plain fists only, maybe weapons, no powers fight, I do think some of the other iterations would win, but purely because they have way more experience than these guys do. (If I did any crossovers I’d say 2003 and 2012 are definitely older than these guys, especially if we’re basing this at the end of their shows) But put them against each other when they’re still at the same level? Rise is whooping butt, I know where I’m placing my bets. It’s called RISE of the TMNT for a reasonnnnnn they’re not there yet but they WILL BE, and as of the end of s2 and the movie I say they’re finally THERE.

I have no idea how this turned into a headcanon rant this was just supposed to be me asking for fic recs hsgdjdjdk it’s almost 3 am tho so whatever sorry if none or some of this is incoherent o7 o/

Editing this with a list of fics I have been graciously recommended below the cut:

Firefight by remrose [42/43 chapters 208k words] (edit: JUST FINISHED READING ch38-42 WATCH ME BAWL MY EYES OUT I was rotating them in my brain all morning at work) less on the feral side, more on the gut-wrenching angst side, still Disaster Twins and still super good

In Which Donnie and Leo Make Themselves Everyone Else's Problem in an NYC That Isn't Even Their Own by YukiSkyes [7/? chapters, 18k words] the CLASSIC “the Disaster Twins are unapologetically causing chaos” fic, always a delight to read

The Lemon Leak by TurtleSoupSwimmer [27/37 chapters, 143k words] I’m being told it’s very true to the theme here, and it’s very angsty, a suspenseful psychological thriller, and will make you scream at your phone. I for one am very intrigued

Eschatology by aenor_llelo, Alderous, ConcoctionsFromHell, izziel_galaxy, Jaybird314, Otakuforlife19, and Rocket999 [17/17 chapters, 344k words] “HEAVY on the boys being biologically engineered to destroy the world, it also delves into so much character building and worldbuilding that we never got in canon, and it gives even super minor characters the chance to shine” Sounds intriguing, AND it’s a BNHA crossover which I am a big fan of :D

The Hunter’s Bible also by TurtleSoupSwimmer [2/2 chapters, 15k words] Rated Mature, contains themes of SA and c@nnibalism so PLEASE keep that in mind!! Not a fic for the faint of heart this is a Dead Dove: Do Not Eat! The SA is only attempted, and never shown, only implied, and it’s only in ch 1, but the other stuff is fairly descriptive and takes place in ch 2. All that being said, flipping UNHINGED, just about lost my mind in ch 2, it was entertaining in a surreal kinda way if you get what I mean. Funky little feral creatures

[buttl0rd]

I'm watching like a hawk for that new kid 🤲 THE BABY

ALRIGHT HERE HE IS!! lemme introduce you to the new kid 👉👉

this is carroway - he's the best 😎👽

this is gonna be a long post cause i have so much art and content to gush about. i love this kid 👇

Some fun character details:

he was originally supposed to be like the 90's movie tough bully kid but he's ended up just being a stupid asshole. he probably likes to think he's really cool and tough 💪

has 3 younger sisters, hates being outnumbered by girls

huge foodie and finishes whatever you don't eat. not fussy at all

always leaving his mittens outside. they get all wet and gross in the snow

affectionately ripping on everyone he loves. he's a total asshole but most people know he doesn't mean half the shit he says. the real ones tolerate him 😔🤙

he doesn’t know he’s bisexual (don’t tell him, he’ll find out on his own)

Hobbies & Interests

Aliens. Carroway is a firm believer in alien life and has an immense interest in UFO sightings, alien communication and all things outer-space. He often brags to his classmates that he has been abducted and probed, and is friends with the Martians that visit South Park sometimes (do any of them believe him?). He has a telescope that he set up in his friend Dante’s treehouse which he uses to spot UFOs in the night.

FUN FACT: His probe is linked with Cartman's. It's the connection that makes it possible for OCs to exist in the same universe as canon characters.

Drums. He has a drum set in his garage on which he practices every day after school. He has exceptional rhythm and is very talented. He keeps drumsticks in his backpack just in case he encounters a drumset or anything he can make a beat with (tables, benches, trashcans, etc.) Neighbors complain to his parents about the noise, so his garage is sound-proofed to the best of Mr. Carroway’s ability. 

Snowboarding. Carroway goes snowboarding every few weeks. His family do snowboarding trips and he LOVES it. He also skateboards and rides his bike when he’s not up in the mountains, kid just likes to go fast. He dreams of being a professional snowboarder when he’s older.

TFBW: Boarderline

Boarder is a special flying support unit, part of Coon & Friends. He delivers high-impact quick attacks with his hoverboard and can heal/cure status conditions with his awesome space beams. As a speedster he utilizes the whole battlefield and is constantly moving, making him difficult to hit.

Origins:

He was a human that got abducted and genetically modified by Martians to serve and protect the alien race. After battling in many galactic wars he returned to his home in Colorado. His abilities were noticed by the superhero organization, Coon & Friends and Boarder was recruited to join their alliance. He provides support to Coon & Friends in battle.

Design:

Inspired by the gear he wears when he goes snowboarding.

His superhero costume consists of a white bodysuit with black tape accents and a big old metal zip. There's reflective blue strips on the gloves, boots and around the edge of his signature spaceboard. He's got these iconic space goggles that protect his face when he’s flying at the speed of light.

His name is a play on words - board (from his hoverboard) and borderline (being only just good enough for Coon & Friends). Allies call him Boarder for short.

SOT: Skullrogue

Skullrogue is Carroway’s Stick of Truth character.

He is a rogue-class unit and is quick and sneaky on the battlefield. He has a long black hooded cloak and a skull mask. His main weapon is a pair of daggers that are enchanted with flame magic. He cannot use magic himself but he is proficient with weapons, especially the daggers. He throws them and uses them to stab enemies in the back.

Skullrogue has an undisclosed edgy backstory, like any rogue player. He is mysterious and broody and so cool. He is loyal to the Wizard King and thinks Princess Kenny is hot.

Post-COVID

As a young adult, Carroway becomes a professional snowboarder and competes nationally in competitions. He becomes famous and earns a lot of money from his career, travelling the world for competitions. He makes it all the way to the Winter Olympics, representing the USA in the snowboarding category

After a career-ending injury in his mid-30's, he had to retire from snowboarding early and now lives off his sponsors and used-to-be-a-big-shot money. Despite being wealthy, he moved back to South Park and lives in a trailer (it’s easier than having a huge house). 

He sometimes needs a walking aid to get around and is medicated for chronic back pain.

He was too busy with his career to find love when he was younger, so he stays single and lonely in his 40s. He still goes out and does sport events, commentaries and sponsorships - he remains famous even though he cannot compete anymore. He’s like a living legend in the winter sports community. 

I'm still working on a PCOV design for him so stay tuned for that...

Anyway that's it for now!! I hope you love him 😘

[clearnachopirate]

Terry and the batfam. Terry and the batfam. their dynamics have so much potential and i would LOVE to see it explored in any way at all

Terry and Dick: older brothers, trade stories of how they embarrass and get back at their younger brother(s), anger issue twins, "oh you were batman too??" "yeah, but its only bc one of my parents was murdered" "omg thats how i became robin no way"

Terry and Jason: the second most destructive duo, second only to terry and steph. not bc they fight or blow things up on patrol (thats tim and jasons thing) but bc anytime there a new gadget to try, terry will volunteer to use it, and jason will volunteer to 'spar' with terry to test it out. okay, maybe its bc they fight and blow stuff up, but its only ever in the batcave under supervision! "the tim from my dimension actually killed the joker" "no shit? did bruce stop me over there too?" "... about that--" sometimes they grab the others leather jacket by accident and both have given up on caring

Terry and Tim: terry "from the technological future" mcginnis and tim "designs loads of bat tech" drake talk shop, "my younger brother was made robin without my consent" club. tim listens to the works elcectro pop music ever and it just so happens to sound exactly like what they play at terrys favorite club. tim introduces him to (kon or bernard, take your pick) and they hit it off so well that they hang out without tim

Terry and Damian: ace the dog. terry invited damian to his AC island. both are bruce's bio kids and mamas boys. damian calling him "Terrance" and terry never recovering from it. terry knows damian from the future, kind of, and uses that knowledge to his advantage EVERY DAY

Terry and Duke: team "everyone thinks we're the normal one, they are wrong" they totally do movie marathons you cant tell me otherwise, their favorite thing to do is make bets abt the rest of the fam w cass. they never win against her. on any given day you can find them whispering about everyone else "duke, why the fuck were damian and tim staring each other down over breakfast" "hes mad dick said he can't poison him again" "what" "i know i thought they were over it by now"

Terry and Cass: cass sees him for the first time and sees that he rivals tim and dick in terms of being a mess and is determined to bond. terry hears about what she was trained for as a child and shrugs bc "i was supposed to be a second bruce, things change" cass will make him give her piggybacks when shes tired and terry has never dropped her

Terry and Stephanie: the most destructive duo. something happens to their braincells when they patrol together, buildings fall, bones break, civilians are crying, theres about ten minutes where everyone else thinks theyre both dead. they both are waiting at the cave for the others, terry is teching her how to make really shitty friendship bracelets (dana taught him, and stephanie is pretending she doesnt know how). they dont know why everyone else is so stressed "i texted you that we were fine, old man. steph and i just ran into black masks trafficing ring and took care of it-- why is dick crying?"

ALL of them have asked about the future before and the ONLY thing he ever reveals is out of context sayings and trends "yeah actually luigi and bowser have so much chemistry, well, i guess that movie isnt out yet huh" "???" (they think luigi and bowser are a cononical couple in the future and wonder where the world went so wrong) and (while interrogating smon) "watch out, you're not acting like the sigma you are, batman, try rizzing 'im up, then he'll talk."

him and bart meet (everyone tried to keep in from happening) and theyre from similar enough futures that when they talk, not a single person around them can follow it, they teach each other the different versions of different tik tok dances and terry goes back to the manor and teches them to steph, cass sees them do it once and has them memorized, duke thought it was funny, dick thought it was adorable (eventually they ALL know them, and it becomes an inside joke) tims prized possession is a video he got of damian doing the most dispassionate renegade the world has ever seen bc jon asked and he cant say no to him)

TL;DR:

terry mcginnis interacting w the other bat kids has a lot of potential for chaos and family bonding

[deformedcat]

The 5 love language

pairing: artist male y/n x childhood friend oc

warning: vomiting, stalking, obsessive behaviour, gore, open ending, not proof read, v rushed 📣📣

Valentine's Day, a day to spend with your loved ones, something you didn't have.

Forget spending Valentine's day with anyone- you had work at the convenience store. Sure, you're an artist, but money won't magically appear onto your kitchen counter.

Despite that, it didn't bother you as much as the sight you saw around you that day. (though bother might not be fitting, more like envious) There were couples everywhere on dates, holding hand and showing their affection towards each other. Bleh. (translation: when is it my turn?)

Either way, you could complain all you want but life still goes on. Sighing, you walk towards your apartment, staring down at your phone to avoid the sights of couples. It wasn't until an envelope at your door caught your attention.

The envelope had a simple yet design with a heart shape sticker on it, you hesitantly take it and enter your apartment.

After sitting on your couch for abit, you cautiously and gradually opens the letter, wary of any potential pranks, but nothing happened.

"Dear y/n

Happy Valentine's day, well, it's not Valentine's day yet but it will be soon.

I've always had a big crush on you, but i never gotten the chance to confess to you directly. Truth to be told, i'm not a courageous person, but you give me the strength to do so today :).

You are the most strongest, admirable person I've met. Whenever i listen to your music, I'm hit in awe with how talented you are. I fall even harder everytime i see you. Your presence is already enough for me to keep going.

Do you know the saying "the 5 love language"? They are words of affirmation, acts of service, receiving gifts, quality time, and physical touch. I would love to know which one is your love language, but instead of asking, I want to let you experience all of them. I aim to make you feel loved in every way possible, starting with words of affirmation!"

..Ah.

A secret admirer,,?

You honestly didn't know something so cliche that would be done in a high school romance movie would happened to yourself, in real life.

The rest of the kettle had you fuming like a kettle, was this person a fan of poets? They sure had their way with words.

As sweet as the letter sounds, you couldnt help but feel crept out by this, how much does this person knows you? Do you even know this person?

You could only hope that it's not someone creepy, like a stalker.. You opened your phone and take a picture of the letter, sending it to your childhood bestfriend.

y/n:

photo.jpeg

hyeon:

?

what's this?

y/n:

love letter,

saw it in front of my

apartment

hyeon:

does someone have a lil crush on little y/n :0?

y/n:

hyeon:

Daniel's got a competitor 😄

y/n:

NEVER

im forever loyal to daniel

👎👎

hyeon:

haha

why are you showing me this?

y/n:

idk

felt a lil crept out

dont u think its weird??

how did they know where i lived? idfk who they are

hyeon:

hmm, thats true.

maybe it's a neighbour? they mentioned they could hear your music, they might be living around your area ?

y/n:

that make it even worse

hyeon:

lock your doors and windows, you wouldnt want to entice your little 'admirer' to break in do you?

y/n:

gtg, bye

hyeon:

i was just joking D:!

I'll be back from Russia soon, i promise <3

y/n

mm, maybe dont.

take care tho

A few days went by and nothing happened, you were beginning to wonder if the letter was just a prank from the kids around the area.

Regardless, you didn't care, you were to tired from your work ealier. Getting yelled at by your manager in front of the customers, for something rather silly. (you looked really tired but manager took it as "mf u dont like ur work isit) This was far fron the first time, and not the worst thing that had happened, but it didn't make it less draining.

you went into your apartment, turned on the light and fell right onto your couch. Rent was due in 3 weeks,, you were mentally preparing yourself to starve for the next few days to be able to have a roof under your head.

everything was tiring you out, and you just want a car to come running into you already, but the house isn't going to clean itself. You had to do chores because you have been putting off chores for a few days now. It's going to pile up the more you tell yourself "i'll do it tomorrow." so you pushes your body off the couch to start.

maybe you can start by taking out the trash.

problem was, the trash was missing. you stared at the empty, new plastic bag over the trash you didn't remember replacing. are you hallucinating?

you went over the sink to wash the dishes, to find them cleaned and kept neatly inside the cabinet. huh.

you must be going crazy, you were sure you did not wash those dishes nor keep them. even if you did, you wouldn't store them as neat as this.

are you going insane?

you quickly check the laundry, and sure enough, they were all done up. the dirty clothes were washed, the one that you didn't bother folding was folded and put away in your bedroom. Neatly.

was your landlord here this morning? Even if he was, he wouls never done something like this. He only ever told you to stop being so lazy and clean the messy apartment. He even once demanded you to clean everything up while be watched but thats it.

you hit your head against the wall, hard, to check if you had not actually fallen asleep on the couch and this was all just a dream. you winced at the pain on your forehead, that sure gave you an answer that youre not hallucinating.

maybe you're just overworked..?

you sat on your bed, noticing a familiar envelope with another sticker on your pillow.

what the fuck.

you opened the envelope, which in it read,

"dear y/n,

Surprise, it's an act of service this time! you're so hardworking that you tire yourself out,, so i decided to do somethinf to lighten the load for you. Remember to take a break when you need it okay?

I also cooked dinner for you, it's your favourite :). They're in the fridge, please enjoy, it's not healthy to starve yourself.

Eternally yours,

Your secret admirer 💌"

you wanted to kill yourself.

your stalker is in fact, a stalker.

how did they get in your house?

how did they know your habits?

you didn't even bother eating the food in the fridge, letting it sit there as you spend the night searching for cameras in your house.

y/n:

hyeon,

they broke in

the mf that sent the letter broke in

photo.jpeg

hyeon:

broke in?

how? didn't i told you to lock the doors and windows?

y/n:

idfk hyeon

they broke in and like

did my chores

and even cook dinner for me

saying its an act of service

hyeon:

are you safe?

y/n:

i dont know am i

i know this sounds weird af but im

not joking

i dont feel safe in my house rn

hyeon:

call the police.

y/n:

with what evidence

tell them that someone sent two envelope, broke into my bouse, did my chores and cooked a meal for me??

ill sound like a maniac

then they'll send me to a mental hospital

hyeon:

you'll never know unless you try,

y/n, this sound dangerous, your life could be on the line bere.

please just call the police and see if they can do anything about it.

do you still have that previous letter with you?

y/n:

yeah

hyeon:

show that to them, including the new one.

y/n:

ok

ill try

hyeon:

okay.

i wish i wasnt in russia right now.

im so sorry, please wait a bit more, ill come back soon.

update me whenever you can.

y/n:

dont be sorry,

thank you.

you never had a peaceful sleep for the next few days, the only thing keeping you sane is messaging hyeon everyday.

you have been so worn out from what happened that night. you had gone to the police, but after they didnt found anything suspicious in your house besides the two letter, they then left and told you to contact them if anything happened.

useless. you texted to hyeon.

neither did the police nor you could find any hidden cameras around your house, but that didnt mean you were safe. they could missed them, or not search at the right place.

you were sitting on your couch, scrolling down your phone to distract what had happened. suddenly, someone knocked on your door.

you groaned, thinking it was your landlord, you got up, walked to your door and peek from the peephole. nobody was there.

you opened the door slowly, immediately notices the stench behind the door. sitting on the floor in the dark hallway were two boxes wrapped like gifts with a gold ribbon.

crimson liquid was seeping through the boxes, on top of one of the box was an envelope, the one you had received a few days prior.

you suppressed the urge to throw up as you felt your breath getting quicker and shallower. you opened your phone and called the police and messaged hyeon

y/n

hyeon

when the polices arrived, they opened the boxes and envelope. one of the polices seems panickes and quickly rushes to you bringing the envelope, making you read it.

"Dear y/n,

Two, the number of hands one would need to do a heart, i thought it would be romantic to give you two gifts. After all, what's Valentine's day without gifts?

I've seen the way those two treated you, i couldnt stand watching them mistreated you. How prideful that human trash must be to push all his mistakes onto you then punishes you? Just because he's a manager? You don't deserve that, dear, so, this is for you.

And that bastard landlord of yours, the way he stares at you and put his hand at you is so disgusting. If he's gonna look at you like that, he don't deserve his eyes. Just because he's your landlord, does not mean he can put his hand on you like that, so i cut them off.

i hope you enjoy the gifts, dear. I guess this can be considered to be acts of service too? I look foward to spending some quality time with you. I can't wait to finally have you in my arm.

ps. inside the hand of your manager is a necklace. <3

Eternally yours,

Your secret admirer 💌"

you glanced at the content of the boxes, puking at the side after seeing the blood hand of your manager and your landlord's head with his eyes gouge out.

you felt helpless.

you had nowhere to go.

you didnt wanna stay here anymore, you dont feel safe anywhere.

you just want to die.

as the police patting your backs and gives you a bottle of water, you receives a text message on his phone.

hyeon:

hey, i'm here now.

i'm sorry i couldn't reply to you earlier, i just arrived in south korea.

y/n:

hyeon thank god

please

can i stay at your place for a while

i cant stay here anymore

hyeon:

Of course, i'll pick you up.

when you finally met hyeon, you collapsed into the taller man's arm, letting the tears out you have been holding in as hyeon holds you close, embracing you in much needed warmth and comfort.

"here," hyeon placed down a plate of fried rice in front of you, coincidentally it being your favourite food but you dont have any appetite after what happened.

"i can tell you havent been eating well, it's all i have at the moment, but its better than nothing."

you appreciated him, but didnt wanna eat anything at the moment, the sight of your landlors was still fresh in your mind.

"thanks, but i feel really sick right now." you felt bad for putting hyeon through the trouble, only to turn it down in the end. "i'll heat it up and have it tomorrow."

"maybe you at least drink some water?"

"sure." Hyeon was already pouring a warm cup of water for you, you were glad you at least had hyeon to come to.

you two spent a while in an awkward silence, it was like hyeon would not ask what had happened until you were ready to talk about it yourself.

"do you have work later?" you asked to distract yourself.

No, hyeon had alarms around the house. He would be notified of any suspicious activities detected.

"no, my manager said he'll take care of it."

"oh.."

then the silence were back again, until hyeon opened his mouth.

"are you going to sleep now?"

"I.." you were sure you would not be able to sleep tonight, you do not know where that stalker was, what if they too breaks into hyeon's house? will you put him in danger as well?

Even so, you're still on edge.

"do you want to share a room?"

"what?"

"you don't have to sleep alone when i'm right here for you to cuddle with!"

you sighed, "hyeon-"

"no really, maybe im just overprotective but i really dont want to leave you alone. We can catch up on the past month, and maybe if i talk enough, it might put you to sleep?"

you cried into his arms for the second time that night.

you could not remember the last time you was help to sleep, you didnt think there was ever a time actually. when he slept besides hyeon, the latter would always wrap his body around you like a koala.

not that it surprised you, hyeon had always been handsy with you ever since the two was young, but only around him.

whenever they ate together, hyeon would reach his hand out to wipe a grain of rice or a drop of sauce off your face.

whenever they play fight, hyeon would always hug you as a way to "immobilize you". when hyeon suggested decorating the house for Valentine's day to take your mind off of things, he would hold your hand and guide you through tying ribbons and hanging decorations.

And when you still couldnt stop the anxiety from rising, hyeon would hold you so close, no matter what time it is, he would remind you to breathe, and prepare plastic bags for you in case you pukes.

Heck, he even made sure that you had fallen asleep first before he would.

you felt safe by hyeon's side.

On the morning of Valentine's day, hyeon was still asleep which was expected, he had waited for you to fall asleep the night before.

You carefully and quietly slipped out of hyeon's tight hold, and headed towards the washroom, you decided to clean hyeon's office then cook a meal for him.

walking toward hyeon's office, you noticed a few paperwork on his table. It seems like it was the paperwork hyeon's had been doing last evening.

His handwriting was exceptionally neat, it had been quite some time you last seen it, but you could remember envying the man for having such a neat writing.

you noticed a half opened file on the floor, you picked it up and read the content of the files out of curiousity

they were mostly a bunch of statistics and numbers, percentages and whatnot. you wanted to stop reading but you felt drawn in his handwriting. To you, it looked familiar, like you've seen it before.

you stared longer at the words until you realized,

realized why he found it familiar.

you flipped to the next page, why did hyeon have your landlord personal informations?

you felt arms hugging you from behind, "what are you doing, snooping around my work like that? what if it's confidential?'

you didnt answer.

"y/n?" hyeon seemed to noticed you tensing up, "sorry, did i scare you that badly? you just seemed so focused on those papers, i just had to-"

"Hyeon."

"Yeah?"

You didnt know what to say, you did not know what to ask. You didnt know how to ask him.

you wish you were just dreaming.

Because.. wasnt hyeon in russia all this time?

"y/n?"

Hyeon couldnt have been in south korea. He couldnt have went into your apartment. He couldnt have place those.. letters abd boxes in your apartment if he wasnt even in the same country as you

ah.

"y/n, are you okay?"

"hyein,, can i take a look at your passport?"

"my passport? why?"

"i just want to.. confirm something."

Hyeon looked at you for a while, before letting go of you "sure, let me go get it."

As he went back to his room, you held ontobthe table tightly to avoid collapsing.

its okay.

you just had to look into his passport, then you would realize how dumb you are to suspect hyeon, the person that sheltered you when you had nowhere to go. the man that's your childhood friend who would sacrifice anything for you-

Hyeon returned, with his passport in hand. "here you go." you were about to take the passport from hum until you saw it

or more like the lack of it.

instead of handing the passport to you normally, hyeon had flipped it to the latest page. Hyeon had supposedly flew to russia first of december last year.

The last time he travelled, according to the passport,

was back in june.

"you were wondering about this, werent you?" hyeon stepped closer towards you, "when did it click?"

"your handwriting you bastard."

"ah right, that was my mistake, but dont you think it took too long for you to notice?"

Hyeon took the papers one by one, putting them together neatly, as if he was having the most normal and mundane conversation.

As if he wasnt the one that sent you all of that letters.

As if he was not the one who broke into your apartment.

As if he didnt sent that severed head and hands to you..

"i guess i should expected that, after all, i'm never the one whom you'll ever have eyes for, am i?" he smiled bitterly.

"Hyeon.." you wanted to be proven wrong, you wanted to be wrong so bad.

you wanted to believe hyeon was not capable of this.

you wanted to believe him, your closest friend, would never do such thing.

instead, you received a hug that felt so cold.

you wanted to strangle hyeon so bad. you wanted to strangle yourself.

you just felt so weak.

as much as you wanted to avoid it, the clues were all right in front of you, mocking you.

there was no one in the world who had heard and appreciated your music, who observed and knew so much of your lifestyle and habits besides ivan.

when the puzzle started coming together, you could feel yourself falling apart.

"so y/n, please tell me:

what is your favourite love language?"

you just want to die.

[draft messages]

y/n:

thanks for taking me in

im glad i hv u in my lufe

you better not tell anyone i said this,

but i dont think theres anyone else i trust

anyone else more than you

thank you.

a/n: zzzzz goodnight (disappears)

[catmelonwriting]

Arguing with Mori

Warnings: Mori in general, hitting, he's a lil possessive yk, age gap (reader is 18/19, Mori is 40), he's a bitch, not proofread, kinda unhealthy relationship

Characters: Mori Ougai

A/N: this is the only thing I can bring myself to write bc I've been obsessed with Mori recently. Sue me. This is heavily inspired by a scene in Lolita 1997 because that movie is fucking relatable and it's all I can think about recently.

"Alright, that's it."

The car screeched noisily as Mori pulled over, thankful for the relatively empty roads making it an easy task. You two had been fighting over something stupid - but you made it just a little too serious with that last comment.

"You want to disrespect me in my own car? Then get out. You can walk home yourself. I don't care." He hissed.

It was pouring out, and there was even some thunder. It was about 3 miles till you got home, not too long in the car but to walk? It would be terrible. "Are you fucking kidding me?" You scoff, staring at him with disbelief in your eyes. "It's 9pm, pouring rain, and you're gonna make a teenage girl walk home alone? Are you trying to get me killed you dickhead?!"

"I'm not making you do anything. All I want is a simple apology and we can drive home normally, and pretend this didn't happen." He leans back in the driver's seat, taking his hands off the steering wheel.

"What the fuck is wrong with you?!" You screamed. "Like actually, what is wrong with you?! You say you love me then all you wanna do is fuck! And when we have a normal argument, like a normal couple, you lose your shit and do things like this!" You were going to continue, but you were cut off by the most menacing look you'd ever seen him direct at you. You'd seen that face before, of course, directed at nosy subordinates or people who were doing him wrong, but never at you. Never at you.

You stop talking and move to unbuckle your seatbelt, ready to leave the car, but Mori stops you by wrapping a single hand around both your wrists, pulling them towards him before you could even unbuckle. "I thought you wanted me to leave." You snarled.

"Quite the contrary, dear. I would love for you to stay, but if you're going to keep acting like a little brat I might just shove you out of the car myself." He says smoothly, his voice dripping with condescension.

"Oh, so now you're holding me captive? You're a kidnapper and a creep? I mean seriously, what forty year old man dates-" you're cut off by a harsh slap on your cheek and a stinging sensation as he lets go of your wrists and sighs heavily, resting his elbow on the center console and his forehead in the palm of his hand. "God, you make it so difficult to love you sometimes."

You can't help it. Your lip starts to quiver and you start wailing as you turn around and shove the car door open, pushing yourself out of the car and onto the sidewalk. You begin to run away, you're not sure where you're going but you need to get away. Away from him. You're followed by the sounds of him calling your name and the door of his car opening and closing.

You don't look behind you but you know he's running after you, you can hear his footsteps and the heavy breathing until he finally catches up to you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against him from behind. By now you're both absolutely soaked in rain water, your clothes sticking to your skin and against his as he holds you there.

You turn around so you can sob into his chest, choking and coughing out apologies into his wet jacket. Eventually he leads you back to the car, opening your door for you and buckling your seatbelt.

Once you're both buckled and in the car you're silent. Neither of you can bring yourselves to say anything. You know he's not going to apologize for hitting you no matter how guilty he may or may not feel. He never apologizes, he just brings you designer purses and beautiful makeup the next day and it's enough to get you to forgive him. It always is.

[latenightreadingpdf]

A Secret Unveiled - Peter Parker

Summary: Peter Parker, secretly Spider-Man, harbors feelings for his best friend Y/N, a passionate Spider-Man fan. As their friendship grows, Peter must decide whether to reveal his secret identity and hidden emotions.

The faint glow of the city lights illuminated the room, casting soft shadows over the study table where Peter Parker and Y/N sat. They had been friends since high school, and their bond had only grown stronger over the years. Y/N had always been a huge fan of Spider-Man, and she often wore her Spider-Man t-shirt with pride.

Peter had a secret, one that he had been keeping from Y/N for years. He was Spider-Man. He had developed feelings for Y/N during their high school years but had never found the courage to tell her the truth about his alter ego.

As they sat studying, Peter couldn't help but glance at Y/N's Spider-Man t-shirt. It was a simple design, the iconic red and blue spider symbol on a black background, but it meant the world to her.

"Hey, Y/N," Peter began hesitantly, his cheeks flushing slightly. "I couldn't help but notice your shirt. You're a Spider-Man fan?"

Y/N looked down at her shirt and smiled, her eyes lighting up with excitement. "Oh, absolutely! I've always been a huge fan. Spider-Man is so cool, swinging through the city, saving people... I've even got a Spider-Man poster in my room!"

Peter's heart raced as he listened to Y/N's passionate words. He felt a mix of excitement and guilt, knowing that he was the very person she idolized.

"That's really cool," Peter managed to say, trying to hide his emotions. "I've heard he's a pretty amazing guy."

Y/N chuckled. "Oh, definitely! I wish I could meet him someday, thank him for all he does."

Peter swallowed hard, his mind racing. "You never know, Y/N. Maybe one day you'll get the chance."

The rest of the study session went by in a blur for Peter. He couldn't stop thinking about Y/N's love for Spider-Man and how she had no idea that he was the one behind the mask. As they said their goodbyes, Peter couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to tell her the truth, but fear held him back.

Days turned into weeks, and Peter found himself growing more and more infatuated with Y/N. Every time he saw her wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt or talking about her favorite superhero, his feelings for her intensified.

One evening, Peter swung by Y/N's apartment to return a book he had borrowed. As he entered the living room, he spotted Y/N wearing her Spider-Man t-shirt once again, this time paired with pajama bottoms.

"Hey, Peter!" Y/N greeted, her face lighting up with a smile. "Come on in. I was just about to watch a movie. Wanna join me?"

Peter felt his heart skip a beat at the invitation. "Sure, that sounds fun."

They settled on the couch, and Y/N hit play on the remote. As the movie began, Peter found himself watching Y/N more than the screen. Her laughter, her smiles, the way her eyes sparkled with excitement - he was completely captivated by her.

During a particularly intense action scene, Y/N turned to Peter with wide eyes. "Isn't this movie great, Peter?"

Peter chuckled nervously, trying to maintain his composure. "Yeah, it's pretty good."

Y/N's gaze lingered on Peter for a moment longer than usual, her eyes searching his. "You okay, Peter? You seem a little...distracted."

Peter swallowed hard, feeling his cheeks flush. "I'm fine, just enjoying the movie."

As the night wore on, Peter knew that he couldn't keep his secret from Y/N any longer. He needed to tell her the truth, no matter how scared he was of her reaction.

A few days later, Peter mustered up the courage to invite Y/N over to his apartment under the guise of another study session. As they sat at the kitchen table, books and notes spread out before them, Peter's heart raced.

"Y/N, there's something I need to tell you," Peter began, his voice shaking slightly.

Y/N looked up from her notes, her brow furrowing in confusion. "What is it, Peter? You're acting really strange."

Taking a deep breath, Peter decided to take a leap of faith. "I'm Spider-Man, Y/N."

Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. "You're joking, right?"

Peter shook his head, his heart pounding in his chest. "No, I'm serious. I've been Spider-Man since high school."

A long silence filled the room as Y/N processed what Peter had just revealed. Finally, she spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I don't believe you."

In response, Peter quickly stood up from the table and moved to the center of the room. With a swift motion, he revealed his web shooters from his backpack, shooting a web across the room.

Y/N's eyes widened in disbelief as she watched. She felt a whirlwind of emotions - shock, confusion, and a strange sense of betrayal.

"You're really him," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling.

Peter nodded, slowly approaching Y/N. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Y/N. I wanted to protect you, but I realize now that keeping this secret from you was a mistake."

Y/N looked up at him, her eyes filled with tears. "I can't believe I've been friends with Spider-Man this whole time and didn't even know it."

Peter reached out, gently wiping away Y/N's tears. "I'm still the same person, Y/N. I'm still your friend, Peter."

Y/N nodded, her gaze softening. "I know, Peter. It's just going to take some time for me to process all of this."

In the days that followed, Y/N grew more comfortable with the truth about Peter's secret identity. She began to see Spider-Man as an extension of Peter, understanding that the hero she had admired for so long was, in fact, the same person she had grown to care for deeply.

As their friendship blossomed, Peter found himself falling even more in love with Y/N. He cherished their moments together, whether they were studying, watching movies, or simply enjoying each other's company.

One evening, as they sat on Y/N's balcony, watching the sunset, Peter decided that it was time to take a chance and confess his true feelings to Y/N.

"Y/N," Peter began, his voice trembling with nervousness. "There's something else I need to tell you."

Y/N looked up, her eyes filled with curiosity. "What is it, Peter?"

Taking a deep breath, Peter mustered up the courage to say the words he had been holding back for so long. "I've had feelings for you since high school, Y/N. I've tried to hide them, tried to push them aside, but I can't deny them any longer. I'm in love with you."

Y/N stared at Peter, her eyes widening in shock. She had never expected Peter to confess his feelings so openly, and she felt a mixture of surprise, confusion, and joy.

"Peter," Y/N whispered, her voice trembling. "I don't know what to say."

Peter looked down, his heart sinking. "I understand if you don't feel the same way, Y/N. I just needed to be honest with you, just like you were honest with me."

Y/N reached out, gently lifting Peter's chin so that their eyes met. "Peter, I... I have feelings for you too."

Peter looked into Y/N's eyes, his heart racing. "Really?"

"Yes," Y/N nodded, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

A warm smile spread across Peter's face, relief washing over him. Without another word, he leaned in and captured her lips in a gentle kiss. Y/N responded, wrapping her arms around him as they shared a meaningful and passionate moment.

From that moment on, Peter and Y/N's relationship blossomed into a beautiful romance. Despite the challenges they faced, both as individuals and as a couple, Peter and Y/N's love for each other only grew stronger. They learned to trust each other completely, knowing that they could face anything as long as they had each other by their side.

And so, as the sun set on another day in the city, Peter and Y/N sat together on the balcony, holding hands and looking forward to a future filled with love, understanding, and endless possibilities.

[messylustt]

can i pls request a small fic where reader is from earth 1218 and miguel has to hide at thier house for a bit to get away? cos he dosent wanna be in a universe where he exsists, you he randomly chooses your house? doesn't have to be exactly like that but 1218 reader pls 🙏🙏

i love this. makes me feel like it could happen to me jwjidkskkkwks (i’m delusional ik. it’s okay) — also I feel like this needs a part two…

╰┈➤ ꒰ 💿 ┊bon bons ꒱

thunderstorm — miguel o’hara + reader ( spiderverse ) : miguel finds his way into your home, your universe. 1816, where no superheroes exist.

contents : kinda suggestive. suspense?? wc 3.0k. check out my spiderverse m.list

you didn’t have much planned for the day. nothing of importance. all that was required of you was to make sure you didn’t leave your sheets out on the clothes horse before the rain came.

apparently a thunderstorm. though the weather information usually stated extremes. no harm in being careful, you guess.

so, when the day got later you ventured outside, lifting on your tiptoes to remove the pegs. throwing the sheets in a basket you felt a very light drop hit your hair. looking up to the sky you could see the grey clouds slowly covering the already setting sun.

with one arm hooked around the basket, you locked the door and made your way down to the basement—to place the pegs back in their designated smaller basket. as you do, you try multiple times in flicking the switch, until it finally turns on.

you jump down the last step, throwing the pegs and moving to retrace your steps when the lights flicker off. “really…?” you quietly mutter to yourself, squinting your eyes against the darkness as you slowly tried for the steep stairs.

with only a slight misstep you reach the light switch again. flicking up down, up down, up down. and…the powers out.

luckily the sun was still barely visible when you walked back through your hallway, letting you see where you were going. you had planned to check the tv for weather news or maybe your phone. but both annoyingly won’t work. you guess that’s indication enough that the storm is almost here.

and surely so, the wind begins to howl as you stare out the window, checking that they are locked tight, as you fiddle with a lighter and a box of candles.

and just as you set up the last candle in your kitchen a noise stops your hands movements. looking to your left—down the hallway—you squint. it’s probably the storm. because the rain had begun to sound like hail on your roof.

and then just as you go for food in the fridge you hear that same noise. you can’t really make out what type of noise it is, just that it’s loud enough to run right through your entire home. you finally step out of your kitchen, walking down the hallway.

you begin to slightly smile to yourself. because this all feels too much like that horror movie you watched the other day. you stop at your front door, looking out through the key hole, and checking the lock as you slide the chain.

the house shook, as you gaze around, before your eyes widen. “shit—“ you mutter, quickly racing up your stairs to reach the bathroom. you had left the window open to help with the condensation.

and just as you began to make your way back down the steps something dark walks across your hallway. you freeze. what was that? you didn’t want to know, now your mind whirring, as you stay midway from taking the next step.

it was just…a shadow…of a tree…yeah. for some reason that got your body moving again, you don’t really know why, because a shadow that dark isn’t just some reflection.

you swiftly peek your head round the corner of your hallway, eyeing your dimly lit house. could an animal have gotten in? usually in a storm animals look for shelter. that’s why when you went upstairs to your bathroom you saw a friendly spider by your sink.

now in the kitchen you sigh, seeing no animal or anything similar. you open the fridge, scanning for food. but that’s when you hear a creak.

whipping around, your breathing caught, your gaze stops on a slowly turning figure. you’re frozen, the fridge light probably displaying your expression rather well. and then you catch this…thing’s face. at first he looked like a man.

until you saw his red, almost glowing eyes, and fangs that glinted in the dim candle light. now you’ve found your voice, while simultaneously finding food, as all you can think to do is hurl it at the figure.

“what are—how—huh??!” you’re now skirting past the kitchen island as the man-thing watches you. your hand finds a salt shaker and as you aim to throw it at his head, his hand swiftly flies up, catching it far too fluidly.

you’re breathing heavy as your eyes now physically hurt from staying so wide. he inspects the salt shaker, before placing it on the kitchen island. he has claws…

“am i going insane…?” you whisper to yourself. because that’s what crazy people do right? whisper to themselves. “yeah…you’re not…real.”

you actually look back to him. your statement a…statement, but you guess part of you was wanting some sort of confirmation.

he tilts his head, eyeing you. “it’s like you’ve never seen a spider-person before.” he finally speaks.

you blink, still pressed against the kitchen counter as if that will serve you some form of protection. in your mind it does. “what?”

he flexes his claws, as you now notice a mask in his grasp. “…are you a robber?” mask equaled robber, in your mind.

he raises a brow, looking throughly unimpressed. He has ventured a fraction closer, now more in the light, and now more visible to you. you’re slightly taken aback. because even though it looks as though he does have red eyes and fangs. he doesn’t look…horrid.

“is that really what i look like?” he asks, as you now notice his wet hair, curling around his face and a certain suit that you swear you’ve seen before.

“no.” you say slowly. “you look like a…vampire.” you could actually laugh if you weren’t so terrified. “are those contacts?”

yes, you’re still in disbelief, and denial. The man narrows his eyes, then glances out the window. you watch him carefully, your hand moving to grab something behind you.

“don’t throw that.” he holds up his hand, still looking out the window.

you stop midway from grabbing an orange as you continue to stare. “what are doing in my house?” you finally ask the essential question. whatever he is he’s still broken in.

then your brows furrow, because you didn’t hear glass smashing…you don’t think. “how even did you get in? i swear i locked everything…”

he looks back to you. “i have my ways.”

“that’s…descriptive.” you mutter more so to yourself. “are you…like a cosplayer or something?” because you swear you’ve seen his suit before.

he eyes you. “what universe is this?”

“universe?” you blink a shit tonne of times. because what?

he seems to be thinking as he gazes around, before some sort of realisation hits him. “1218.”

“12 what?” you’re utterly confused, as you scrunch your nose, pressing your fingers to your temples. Your brain was starting to hurt. but then he was moving closer.

you hold your hand out, suddenly becoming more alert. “don’t—“ you say firmly, but then his head is swiftly turning in the direction of your front door. and then he’s right in front of you making you jump, your eyeballs threatening to fall out. “what—“

“shh.” he says, placing his hand over your mouth, as his body pushes you further against the counter and into the corner—where your cupboard creates a blindspot.

you go to at least try and say something, your heart beating on overdrive, but then you hear gruff voices and a loud noise that resembled the breaking of wood, and smashing of glass. you go real quiet after that, trying to see past this large man.

miguel can feel your body still. obviously still tense, but you aren’t shoving him off you. he keeps his hand over your mouth, his breath now hitting your eyelashes.

you stay still. because this man in front of you didn’t have a weapon—from what you know—and his heaving chest and darting eyes are showing you he doesn’t like your new visitors either. then you make eye contact, and you hate to say that you aren’t repulsed by his blood red eyes.

miguel slowly removes his hands, making a ‘silence’ motion with his finger, to which you gulp and close your mouth. miguel can hear the approaching footsteps, and the crunch of glass under their feet.

then his breath is by your ear. “is there somewhere we can hide?” his words tickle your neck, making you shiver.

“uh…there’s…” you try and think. because where the hell can you hide?

“take your time.” he whisper-comments. but you ignore his sarcasm as you meet his gaze, hearing the further approaching men. “the attic.”

miguel tilts his head to the side, silently asking you to show him. but you hesitate. alone. in the attic. with this…stranger. miguel seems to catch onto your swaying mind, as he leans back closer to your ear. “i’m not gonna hurt you, if that’s what your worried about. i have no use for that.”

no use for that? but you can’t dwell because the urgency is back in his voice. “but these guys will. so, if you don’t want a bullet in your head. move.”

and you do. because a bullet in the head doesn’t sound nice. and again—this guy didn’t a weapon. you shift past him, him having moved slightly out of the way.

you lead him—as silently as possible—down the hallway, which is now littered with glass, and your front door is busted open, letting the howling wind prickle your skin.

you turn left and then right, coming to a stop as you reach the long stick you use to hook around the retractable stairs. but miguel doesn’t want to waste time, as he takes the stick from you, while simultaneously hooking his claw around the metal loop and tugging.

you stare at him, seeming to realise just how tall he is. the stairs are soon down as you hear voices, much much closer. miguel grabs your shirt, yanking you towards him as he a practically lifts you onto the first few steps. you hold down your yelp, because right now that would cause a disaster.

scrabbling up you try to keep your feet light, as miguel moves, hot on your heels. then he’s pulling the stairs up in the nick of time, and it all seems to make you sweat, as you pull at your t-shirt, fanning yourself.

miguel stands, having slid the lock, part of his suit getting caught up with cobwebs.

“okay, what the fuck is going on?” you whisper-hiss, making miguel turn to you.

“it’s nothing personal.” he says, walking past you, to look out the small, circular window.

“thank god. but that really doesn’t explain anything.” you say, a mix of fear and adrenaline leading you to anger. “who are you? and who are they? at least answer me that.”

miguel looks back at you, sighing, as he takes in your flustered state. “maybe i should have left you down there.”

“is your name that top secret?” you keep fanning yourself as you scrunch your eyes together, trying to wrap your head around everything that had just happened.

“miguel.” he finally says, making you open your eyes.

“what?”

“my name…” he says, slightly stepping closer. “is miguel.”

“ah…” you say, but then your brows furrow. “is it real?”

miguel looks at you, pausing a moment. “my…name? you’re asking if my name is real?” he’s in slight disbelief, as his expression displays what looks to be distaste.

“well, i would have assumed you’d say some…hero name. you look like you jumped out of a comic book.” okay…you may be saying too much. but your mind is fried and you desperately needed answers. of any kind at this point.

“that’s flattering.” he states dryly.

“no seriously. why are you dressed like that?” you ask, eyeing him. you hated the fact that he didn’t look…bad.

“right…i keep forgetting you don’t a have a spider-person here.”

“what? like spider-man?” you force a chuckle. “yeah, you must be some sort of cosplayer.”

“whatever that is, i’m not. just…” he pinches the bridge of his nose. “how about let’s not talk?”

“no, no, i need answers.” you stepped closer. “if not about you, then about them.” you point to the floor.

miguel licks his teeth—or more accurately his fangs, making your gaze get caught up in the action as you gulp.

“all you need to know is that they’re bad men who like to kill.” miguel edged closer to you. “if you stay out of their way you might survive.” and then he’s brushing past you, crouching by the trap door as he pays close attention to the noises below.

your gaze follows him, as you move to crouch down beside him. miguel looks slightly up, watching you try to listen. miguel tilts his head in observation, as you visibly strain to catch any words.

“you can’t hear them.” he states bluntly. you look up. “then why did you look so intent as if you could hear them?” you ask, narrowing your eyes on him.

“because i can.” he simply answers, catching the intruders’ words again.

“wait…check that.” one of the guys are saying. “don’t most boring houses have those things called attics?”

miguel is then quick, because the little bolt locking you guys in isn’t gonna hold if they try to come up here. he grabs your arm, pulling you to stand, as you slightly jolt at the fast movement. all you had heard was muffled voices.

miguel pulls you closer as he scans the room, stopping on a nook that even he barely noticed, along with a mattress that he could slide over as coverage. before you could say a word, miguel’s hand has moved to your shirt, making it easier to move you with him.

“what’s going on—“

“shut up.” miguel whisper-hisses by your ear, pushing you towards the nook, as you both crouch down. miguel then webs the mattress tight against the wall, making it inhumanly possible to move it if you didn’t have the type of strength miguel had.

your eyes widen as you see the fading orange strings shoot out of his wrist, before he’s pulling you back to him. but with the harsh, unexpected pull, your foot slips.

miguel reacts quick, because if you fell, the thud would alert them of your hideout—“them” having now bashed through the trap door. your breathing hitches, as miguel moves, your head almost hitting the floor.

now you rest against the dirty ground, breathing erratic as miguel hovers over you, breathing equally as hard. his hand is holding the back of your head, as the other cages by your hip.

and you can’t move, because they’re already walking up into the attic. you sew your mouth shut, as you do your eyes, the slight scrunch of your features getting noticed by miguel. whose face is millimetres away, his breath tickling your heated skin.

“why am i even helping you…” he mutters so quietly you almost don’t catch it.

“i’d like to know that too.” you whisper just as quietly back. you slightly crack your eyes open, meeting his gaze. you press your lips together, at the close proximity. miguel’s eyes narrow. “don’t talk.”

“you talked first.” you reply, slightly lifting your head to his ear before placing your head back down. “and you can move your hand—“ because it was still placed under your head, but then miguel’s finger—or claw—was pressing firm against your lips, shushing you.

the footsteps were near, and you actually hold your breath. miguel slightly pushes down on your stomach, forcing you to breathe, as the warm air hits his finger—still pressed against your lip. then his breathe is by your ear. “it’d be a wasted effort if I didn’t keep you alive longer.”

your heart is beating in your chest, his practically right up against yours. and he doesn’t leave his spot by your neck, as his breathing tickles the hairs there. “mi…miguel.” you carefully whisper, and his hold on the back of your head tightens, his claws sinking into your hair.

“didn’t i say to be quiet?”

“then stop talking.” you mutter back. and miguel could actually laugh at you. because what position are you in to use that harsh tone. he grabs your cheeks with his hand that was placed by your hip, resulting in him being practically on top of you, making you tense.

he squeezes your cheeks so that your mouth was forced to open. “stop. talking.” he said slowly. and now you physically couldn’t with his claws pressed to your cheeks.

but then the footsteps grew very very close. right by the mattress. and both you and miguel turn your head. you then glance down because you felt a breeze across your ankle. your foot was in an easy view and you want to curse. because was that really going to be your undoing?

miguel notices your body’s movement and your almost frightened gaze. looking down, miguel clenched his jaw. his hand moved down your body, wrapping around your thigh, as he very slowly widened your legs.

your look is of harsh question when miguel meets your gaze. but he doesn’t stop, pulling your foot out of few, by spreading your leg to the side, resulting in him practically laying between them.

you rest your head back, clenching your jaw as you ignore anything and everything. then miguel is pulling your chin back to face him, as he listens to the men’s steps. “anything else I need to fix for you?” he whispers so quietly in your ear. you want to hit him, because this position makes you feels far too vulnerable.

but you can’t say a thing. you know you can’t. not until the men leave. you slightly shift, your hip bone pressed into the wood. miguel’s hand flies to grab your thigh again, holding you still. tou couldn’t do that. god, you really couldn’t do that.

he keeps his hand on your thigh now, spreading it even wider, making your breathing hitch as you force your lips to press together till it hurts.

how the hell did you go from organising your washing to being under a large man…vampire…thing, where you could feel everything? that’s an answer you’d love to know right about now.

© messylustt.tumblr please don’t steal, copy or translate my work onto other platforms.

[maybeitsalivescribbles]

TTD - Dastardly Hug

Being a hero had its inconveniences. You could be called for help at any hour, you could be harassed by any angry civilian because you didn’t do a good enough job, or of course you could be hit and killed by some villain on the loose.

However, what worried Hero at the moment was the paperwork. It was the dreaded time of the month when they had to log in the agency website and describe every one of their good deeds to be paid. It had taken a bunch of tries to finally access their account, and now they were wondering if bringing a dog back to its family counted as “security” (the dog was certainly safer inside the house) or as “improving the well-being of citizens” (a category that could embrace all kinds of actions, to helping an old lady to cross the street from stopping the apocalypse – who designed these things ?).

Behind their back, the door creaked in an ominous way (they really needed to lubricate the hinges). For a brief instant they fervently hoped that it was only a gust of wind, but the light of the room suddenly went off. They sighed and saved their progress while their roommate solemnly declared:

“I am darkness. I am the creeping blackness that cannot be killed by any light.”

“Sure, but I’m certain you still will be in fifteen minutes. Can you come back then ? I’m doing paperwork.”

“You wish to surrender to the horrors of bureaucracy rather than mine?”

“I don’t wish it, but we kinda need the money, you know. What did you want ?”

“Why, tis but a common reminder to surrender in my presence that should strike fear and reverence in your heart. Every activity of yours should pale into insignificance.”

“Can you be more precise ?”

“I’ve come for intimidation and invasion of your personal space.”

Hero looked at the screen of their computer. It had been already two hours since they began. Oh, fuck it.

“Yeah, okay.”

They patted their knee and extended one arm. For a moment, they couldn’t see anything, then they felt the weight of a person on their lap and a head on their shoulder. It was impossible to see the shape of the silhouette huddled up them, only a vague black cloud, but it wasn’t a problem. They were getting used to it by now. They closed their arms gently until their fingers met a back, that they rubbed.

“You have so many knots.”

“It’s because I’m very twisted.”

“Maybe you should straighten your back more.”

Former Villain shrugged and didn’t answer. They both stayed like that for a while, silent and quiet.

“Hero ?”

“Yes ?”

“You wouldn’t hurt me, would you ?”

Hero’s hand froze on their roommate’s back.

“Why would I do that ?”

“Just checking.”

“Of course I don’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt anyone.”

Still no answer. Fingers clutched at their shirt, almost desperately. Hero knew by now that asking if their roommate was okay was a lost cause. They never answered in a straight manner. So, after clearing their throat, they awkwardly said:

“Uh, if you let me suffer into the hands of the bureaucracy for a little while, you could beat me to video games if you want to. Or we can watch a movie together. But, uh, in a really evil way ?”

“In a really evil way ?”

“I don’t know, I try to make it sound appealing to you.”

“You’re terrible at it. Nevertheless, I will graciously accept your request.”

“How kind.”

After a moment, Former Villain slid from their lap and went out. Hero didn’t turn back to their paperwork immediately. The truth was that despite Villain being their roommate, they didn’t know much about them. Who needed to pretend that wanting a hug was very evil, and what kind of past did they have ?

*

Check the These Two Dorks Masterlist or Tag for more snippets with this Hero and Villain. This is how they met and now they’re roommates.

Or back to Hero x Villain Masterlist.