#you see. i have only watched the movie twice in my life and refuse to do it again so i never got used to the new characters' voices

[rebelfell]

for your viewing pleasure┃vol. 1

pornstar!eddie x director!reader

all my pornstar!eddie blurbs together at last b/c I hated how I published them originally. the og posts are still here, but they have been edited/expanded somewhat, and I’ve included a “finale” of sorts that is new! index for this story is here.

cw: pornstar!au, so…porn. but it’s also a kind of fantasy porn company/industry, so not really at all based in reality or fact. sex work, oral sex (f & m rec), public-ish sex, piv sex.

18+, MDNI┃8.7k

special thanks to @urhoneycombwitch for helping come up with like 90% of this via mutual flailing in my inbox 🥰 ilyaaf

After dark thoughts about pornstar!eddie…who gets fired from his first job.

Because he’s great at sex, but bad at porn.

So, so, so bad. Like, he’s incredible at eating pussy, but incredible because he does it with his whole face completely buried in his co-star. We’re talking fully and wholly submerged in her folds, as though she’s his breathing apparatus.

And that’s great for her, but terrible for camera.

They keep stopping him, telling him he has to pull it back, that they have to see her pussy and they can’t with his big head and bigger hair blocking their view. But much like a dog that’s been told to leave a treat where it is, he keeps edging closer and moving back in little by little until he’s right back where he wants to be—and they’re yelling “CUT” and scolding him all over again.

And the girl is getting frustrated because, like, she’s about to actually come and she looks at the director with this look of pure desperation and ‘just do me this solid—please?’ in her eyes.

So he finally lets Eddie get her off and just films super tight on her face and her trembling legs so it’s really obvious how real it really is.

And so they can move the fuck on already.

Then they’re filming the fucking, and once again Eddie is fucking like he would fuck in real life and the way he fucks in real life is Not. Good. Porn.

He’s not just slamming into her without any care; he’s not using her to get off; he’s trying to make it good for her. And it is very, very good for her.

Like so good, she’s this close to giving him her number once they wrap for the day.

Her boyfriend of six years be damned.

And once they wrap, Eddie’s not exactly “fired” but he’s pretty sure he’s not getting called back.

Except then the movie comes out and BLOWS UP. People are obsessed. Women are buying it in droves (who knew women even watched porn??) and the VHS is back-ordered to shit.

So the production company is like, “We gotta lock this kid into a contract. Now.”

And just so we’re clear, he gets that contract. 

But he (rightfully) feels like he has a bit of juice behind him and refuses to work with that director ever again. And they agree to his terms, but that first guy is hardly an anomaly and Eddie is still butting heads with these other ass hats who keep trying to force him to do it their way.

“My buddy, my guy, my man, you’re fucking her like she’s a person and that’s not gonna sell. It may have worked for you before, but no way does lightning strike the same dick twice.”

So Eddie walks. And he’s ready to call it quits entirely…until you approach him.

Because you are former talent, trying to branch out and direct, but no one will take you seriously. So you went to the heads of production and told them even if all they gave you was a shoestring budget and one Eddie Munson, you can spin some gold. Spoiler alert—you do.

You come to Eddie with your vision of porn for women: story-based, more realistic dialogue, and real orgasms. Some of the same tropes, but done in a way that doesn’t feel so tired and gross and vapid and soulless. Something new.

Something different. Something special.

And, oh. He is so on board with that.

Meanwhile, back in Hawkins, the rumor mill is milling. Because how in the hell did Eddie “The Freak” Munson become a sex symbol overnight? It has to be a deal with the devil—that’s the only possible explanation, right? He clearly sold his soul for a magic cock and a porn career.

And Steve Harrington is LIVID.

He would have bet his entire college tuition Eddie was a virgin, but now every babe who comes into Family Video is renting that damn tape.

They’re literally pouring in looking for it, marching straight to the back, going behind that red curtain where normally only the creepers go. And they don’t so much as blush when Steve scans it.

Robin teases him about it mercilessly. Tells him maybe if he watches it, he’ll pick up some new moves. And, like, Steve has watched plenty of porn. He can’t imagine Eddie is doing anything that earth-shattering. There’s only so much to it, you know? People must just be caught up in the novelty of it being someone that they kind-of sort-of know. It will wear off, it has to.

Then he watches it.

And, oh…Steve has been doing sex all wrong.

For one, he wasn’t going down on girls. He just wasn’t. He’s not like…against it, or anything. But he sort of didn’t realize that was a thing? He lost his virginity in high-school for fuck’s sake—what did he know besides porn and magazines? And that was all the same, so wasn’t that what girls wanted? (Oh, you sweet summer dingus, Robin would shake her head and lament later.)

Secondly…the girls he was with never sounded like that. And he never realized just how fake all those other “orgasms” in porn sounded until he heard the real deal. Now he can’t un-hear it.

From that day forward, for almost two months, they are short one copy of Eddie’s tape because Steve snuck it home in his bag one night after closing. For research purposes only.

No, seriously.

Eddie is a fucking star. Literally.

The second you and he get together, (in a, ahem, professional sense) something shifts. It feels like a long-laid plan plotted from a distant corner of the vast universe has finally come to fruition.

Your first tape is a smash. The camera you get is barely a step up from a hand-held camcorder, but it doesn’t matter in the slightest. Even with a bare bones crew (you wind up doing a lot of the sound, the lighting, the editing yourself) and everyone doubting you from the jump, it’s a hit.

The concept isn’t anything crazy—Eddie shows up to deliver a pizza, and instead the girl accepts his delivery. But you add a twist: the pizza is for a poker game her boyfriend is hosting. He canceled date night for it and she’s been sitting out here all alone while they play in the other room.

Not on Eddie’s watch.

He goes to town on her, bringing her to the brink three or four times while her boyfriend’s pizzas go cold on the countertop. You push the camera in close on both of them, really trying to give the sense of Eddie as a person. So he’s not just another disembodied guy with a nice dick.

Although his is very, very nice.

His personality shines through when he does things like hike her leg up to fuck into her pussy deeper, chasing her pleasure like her high is his own; and when he grins down at her all devilishly as she tries to stifle her sounds so her “boyfriend” won’t hear; or when Eddie mocks her, making her own little whines and huffs and squeals right back at her in a way that is so infuriatingly hot.

He talks her through it, locking those big brown eyes of his on her, clutching the back of her neck while she tries to block her moans, until at last she can’t hold it back any longer and explodes.

And you have the sound guy stand off to the side and call out, “Everything okay in there, babe?” after she’s done. Nothing but a shuddering, trembling mess on a black leather sofa.

Cut. Print. That’s a wrap, folks.

Eddie is a dream to work with. He’s collaborative and creative; he communicates effectively and often. You guys are like two halves of the same brain, often anticipating what the other wants before they even know it themselves.

It’s alarming, almost. To be seen so clearly.

Even short on crew, equipment, time, money—you can’t seem to fail when you’re together.

The one thing you’re never short on is actresses. Ever since Eddie’s first tape came out, word of mouth (pun intended) has spread. Rapidly. And since you know most of them, you know who to hire. You know which ones are the flakes, which ones are divas, which ones will vibe best with the kind of set experience you’re trying to create. So Eddie trusts your judgment, completely.

He just waits for you to tell him who he’s fucking and then he does it. And he does it so well.

The fucker has chemistry with everyone—down to the guy who brings the sandwiches when you break for lunch. He’s so charming and funny and considerate practically to a fault. He’s fully dialed in from the moment he steps on set to when you wrap for the day. And afterwards, he’s checking in with you, making sure you got exactly what you wanted, asking if you want anything else, if you need him to stay because he’ll be happy to.

It’s…completely and utterly disarming.

He has every right to be a full blown asshole. This entire venture hinges on him and his magic dick, so his head should be as big as a hot air balloon. But he doesn’t ever stray from that unflagging decency that’s so rare in this industry. 

And you pray he never will.

It’s Eddie who pitches your next film.

He’s got this notion of a good girl—a cheerleader—who’s having a hard time and goes looking for weed from the mean and scary tattooed dealer.

(One guess who’s playing him.)

Except he’s not so mean and scary. He’s actually kind of a goof, mock-stabbing himself in the heart and flailing around like a clown, throwing himself off the picnic bench you and he dragged out to this clearing at the ass crack of dawn.

All part of the vision, he assured you.

They look great on camera. His dark, wild hair and clothes and everything in direct contrast to her sweet, round face and bright pastel hues and soft waves. Chemistry’s off the charts, as usual. She starts out really nervous and fidgety, but he makes her comfortable and flirts, offers the bud at a discount. And then her brow cocks daringly and she asks if he has anything…stronger.

Cut to her being eaten out like a banquet spread out on this table in the middle of the forest.

It’s oddly lush and romantic with the rich color of the leaves and the dappled sunlight that filters in through the branches—a foil to the lewdness of their acts and their wanton sounds. 

And when they’re dressed down to nothing, bare skin on bare skin on gray weathered wood, they look almost like forest nymphs or elves caught up in the throes of passion, secluded in the trees.

Especially with the leaves still clinging to Eddie’s hair from when he fell off the table.

Not for the first time, you feel a certain twinge of something that squirms low in the pit of your stomach while you watch them.

Except you’re not watching them…because you can’t take your eyes off of him.

After you wrap, he hangs back. Asks what you thought of the shoot while he helps break down the equipment. Blushes when you tell him you loved it and how good he looked. Explains how it was inspired by these daydreams he used to have about this one girl he knew in high-school.

And you almost, almost, ask him about her—but you’re cut off by a PA who runs up in a panic.

The studio is calling, and they’re pissed.

They’ve just gotten a look at the contract you had drawn up. Rights to a boutique company under their banner, unlimited use of their distribution channels. Full creative control and intellectual property rights to anything and everything.

Plus exclusive use of Eddie.

(Effectively nullifying that horseshit deal they originally gave him for a much, much better one.)

You know they’re gonna fight you on a lot of it—you swung big so you’d have plenty of room to negotiate—but it will all be worth it when they fold. Because you and Eddie have big plans.

You both know you’re onto something special and you’re in it together, to the end of the line.

Apparently, Eddie is also interested in editing.

He shows up to the production offices on a day he’s supposed to be off, but knows you have the editing bay reserved. Brings you coffee and an egg sandwich like a literal angel on earth.

An angel dressed like the devil, maybe. Because he’s got on this tank top with arm holes that’ve been stretched way, way beyond their natural elasticity, drooping down around his ribs and flashing glimpses of his tattoos and the tops of his obliques. And you aren’t entirely sure why you’re getting all hot and bothered over a tank top when there’s not a single intimate inch of his        body you haven’t already seen up close and personal through your viewfinder.

In fact, it’s the same body you’re watching fuck the shit out of that girl on the picnic table from a few days ago. And he’s wearing a whole lot less than a tank top.

You share a brief chuckle over it—the fact that his bare ass is flickering on three screens while you scroll through footage. And it’s not so much that it’s awkward, more like you’re mutually tickled by the fact that it’s not? There’s not an ounce of self-consciousness left between you two.

In a way, it’s like there never was.

He asks if you want any help, or if you mind him sitting in. He’s interested in the process, thinks it might help him on set too. There’s such a rich vein of enthusiasm and curiosity in him, a real thirst to be better and to learn. It’s ridiculous it took him three tries to graduate.

You think it’s a great idea…at first.

But then you’re watching him on the screen with him sitting right next to you. His earthy, woodsy scent layered with the smell of his soap in your nose; his recorded grunts and groans of pleasure in your ears coming through your headphones that are starting to slicken with the sweat.

It’s all wildly distracting. And you must be some kind of masochist, because (not for the first time) you can’t help but wonder how he makes all these women come the way they do.

“So, uh, what…what exactly are you doing here?”

You clear your throat, trying to cover the tremor in your voice as you ask. Eddie scoots in closer, his eyes darting between yours and the screen as he describes the way he’s using his tongue, swirling it around the edges of her entrance, plunging it deep inside her while his nose pushes firmly on her clit. Pretending not to notice your chest heaving with his every word.

“How do you even breathe?” you chuckle.

“I find my moments,” he says.

Smirks back. Winks.

And uh-oh. When did his hand touch your knee? When did he start to rub his thumb over your bare skin through the hole in your jeans? When did his long, ringed fingers start to curl under your thigh to squeeze it? When did he start to lean further into your space? When did you get so wet?

He’s close now. It wouldn’t take anything for you to bridge the gap and let your lips meet his. You can’t, though. You don’t. Because it would be so…stupid. It would be wrong and bad, and it could jeopardize both of your careers. Everything you’re working towards, totally gone.

You’re starting the porn for women movement, here. You can’t fuck your first star!

And you don’t. You keep it professional. You tell him you’re going to call it a day and head home so he’ll do the same. But later that night, when he calls with some new ideas for a script, asking if he can run a few lines by you (just to know how it sounds out loud, you know?), and you wind up having the most insane, mind-blowing phone sex of your entire life…Well, that’s different.

That’s totally and completely different.

The next time you see him, it’s business as usual.

You knew it would be. You two are nothing if not consummate professionals, fully committed to this endeavor. Neither of you would dare let your goals be derailed by a silly little crush.

And it is just a crush. It has to be.

Just the natural result of working so closely with him; of seeing him so completely in his element; appreciating his work ethic and his creativity.

Not to mention the fact that you are consistently watching him have the hottest sex you’ve ever seen in your life. But that’s unrelated.

The next shoot is your biggest yet. It’s at this massive mansion that you’re dressing to look like a spa with two massage tables set up by the pool that looks like something straight out of a resort.  Eddie is playing a masseur who offers a lonely, neglected housewife consolation in the form of his cock after her husband chooses work over their couples massage.

After the success of the pizza delivery tape, you think it’s best you lean hard into the “Eddie fucks it better” sort of storylines.

Because why not play to your strengths?

Except that the call time of your female lead has come and gone and she’s nowhere to be found. You know Trina, this isn’t like her, she’s never late. But you called and got no answer. Twice.

The light is perfect, everyone’s in place…but there’s no one for Eddie to fuck.

Even if you could get a replacement, it would take at least an hour for anyone to get out here and that was being generous. By then, the shoot would be way behind and you’ve literally only got today in this stupid model home before some fucking billionaire moves in tomorrow.

It’s gonna be a massive loss of time and money if you don’t think of something. Like, right now.

Eddie can see you’re stressed. He comes over and you huddle by your storyboards. And neither of you has to say it, but you both are thinking the exact same thing. As per usual.

You could do it.

You’re here, for one. And you’ve done this plenty of times. It just makes good business sense.

It’s been a while, and you’re not quite “camera-ready” after not having to be for the past couple of months, but you and Eddie have been talking about using more normal-looking bodies; bodies that jiggled and had hair where it grew naturally and are authentically real, regular bodies.

The camera guys know what sort of shots you want and you’ve got a bigger crew now—people who know your vision and can help bring it forth.

Plus, you’ll be with Eddie. You know he’ll take care of you. He’ll be sure that you get exactly what you need, no matter what. You’d bet your life on it.And, well…you and he did just rehearse your lines the other night.

The shoot is…interesting.

From the outside, it goes great. Perfect, even. Eddie looks all kinds of cute in his white polo and white pants. He’s got his long hair twisted up off his neck, a few loose tendrils framing his face. 

And you somehow forgot until he puts his hands on you the first time that the whole concept for this shoot was born out of the fact that he actually went to massage school for real.

Before you even get to the sex stuff, you’re putty in his hands. He moves them up and down your calves, slides his thumbs over your muscles in a dizzying pattern en route to your thighs. 

You’re not even faking the deep moans of relief you let out as he moves up higher and higher… arousal promptly pooling between your legs.

He starts going through his lines, striking that perfect balance between his casual, trying-to-be professional voice, while slowly getting more and more desperate and possessive. 

As if he’s constantly fighting the urge to take you right then. Right now.

Telling you how awful it is your husband chose work over you like this; how you should always be his number one priority; how Eddie would never let you out of his sight if you were his…

His hands reach your ass and he grips one round globe in each, spreading you apart so he (and the camera) can see how you glisten, the sunlight reflecting like it does off the water in the pool.

You wait for his next line—when he offers you a very ‘special’ massage with a ‘special’ technique he ‘doesn’t use on just anyone.’ 

But Eddie goes off script.

He licks a fat, wide stripe directly through your folds and your head pops out of the little headrest at the end of the table, the pure shock and delight on your face captured instantly by the camera.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” he pleads, his tongue still swirling in between the words muffled by your ass cheeks, like he can’t stand to take it away, even to speak. “I had to taste you…”

“It’s okay,” you moan, voice nearly cracking in a dry sob, “It’s okay, just please don’t stop—”

And he doesn’t. He keeps going until you come, until you’re reaching back behind you to grip his hair as you push your hips back to meet every thrust of his perfect tongue. From there, it’s back to regularly scheduled fucking. He stays on script, peppering in the sort of ad-libs he knows from experience get a good reaction every time—

That’s it sweetheart, you’re doing so well for me.

Your husband doesn’t know what he’s missing.

This pussy is all mine now, you understand?

And, yeah, that stuff gets you off, no problem. But it’s the other stuff he does—the quieter, subtle things you aren’t expecting—that really push you over the edge again and again. And again.

It’s the things he whispers (actually whispers, not stage whispers) low in your ear so you’re the only one who can hear. You feel way too good/I gotta slow down or I’m gonna come/I know you faked that last one, gimme a real one now—

It’s…it’s almost too much. You knew he’d be good, you just didn’t expect how good. 

And you definitely didn’t expect to feel the way you do when he checks in between takes: asking if you want more or less of anything, making sure he’s not being too rough, telling you how great you’re doing, apologizing again for that initial snafu. It makes you all…fluttery.

But it’s not until after you wrap for the day, after you’ve gotten in the shower at home and start to wash off the massage oil spread all over your skin, that you realize Eddie never kissed you.

Not once.

When Eddie calls later that week, it’s to ask you out. Not on a date, though. 

Which is good. Really, it is. A relief, even. Because contrary to the way your heart leapt into your throat when he asked if you were busy this weekend, you absolutely cannot date him.

It doesn’t matter that you’re attracted to him. Or that you came out of your eyeballs multiple times with him the other day. Or that you haven’t been able to think about anything besides him since.

You. Can’t. Date.

You’re pretty much his boss, don’t forget. Maybe not technically, maybe not on paper—but if you start something up with him, it will be messy and complicated and it could put everything you and he have worked for in jeopardy. More than that, you don’t want anyone thinking he got where he is by any other means besides his hard work (pun intended). He’s earned everything he’s gotten.

And now that includes an award.

That’s what he’s calling about. He’s been nominated for what is essentially the porn equivalent of an Oscar for that first tape he made. And now he has to go to this ceremony, except he’s sort of freaking out because he’s never done anything like this before and he’s really nervous and he kind of needs you there because ‘you’re the only one I’m always comfortable with.’

So he asks if you’ll go with him. As friends.

And you say you will. And it’s fine. You can do this, you can do this, you can do this—FUCK. 

Why does he have to be so hot? Showing up in a black Prada suit with a sheer shirt underneath? Almost as bad as wearing nothing under it at all. Worse, maybe.

It’s unbuttoned nearly to the middle of his torso, layered chains dangling low, hanging around that tree trunk of a neck you can’t stop wishing you could sink your teeth into, wrap a hand around—

Nope. Nope. You’re not going there. The only place you’re going tonight is these awards.

Except when you get there, the organizers don’t want you photographed with Eddie. At least not arriving together. People still aren’t familiar with you as a director, and you haven’t starred in a project in months. That’s practically a century in porn time.

Plus, the tape Eddie is nominated for you didn’t even work on. It wouldn’t make any sense.

Eddie is immediately poised to protest, but neither of you is given much of an opportunity. While you’re shuffled into the long line of people already being photographed in front of the venue, he’s being whisked away so he can walk with the girl he starred in that very first film with.

You know her, sort of. You did a group scene once upon a time. She’s a biter.

They even sneak him into her limo so it looks like they came together. He gets out first and then holds out a hand to help her, a storm of flash bulbs going off, making her jumpsuit sparkle.

And you tell yourself not to watch. You try to smile pretty for your own pictures and look like you are having a good time. Or at least not look like you’re chewing on glass. But it’s…difficult.

Especially when you look up at the worst possible time—the exact moment she places a dainty hand on his chest and he turns his face toward hers, their lips meeting for a long kiss. 

Long enough for every camera there to capture it.And the very last shot they get of you that night is one of your back as you head inside to get a drink. Or ten. Trying not to think about this sour, putrid, inconvenient feeling in your chest.

Eddie should have walked with you. 

He should have done a lot of things, actually.

He should have told those uppity event coordinators to fuck off. He should have ignored that girl from his first film when she whispered under her breath for him to look at her. He should have dodged that sticky, tacky kiss she planted on his lips without any kind of warning.

He should have asked you out for real instead of hiding behind this ‘as friends’ bullshit.

Maybe if he had, he’d be tasting your lipgloss instead of the glittery mess he was wiping off his chin. Maybe it would be your hand in his as you walked the carpet. And maybe it would be him getting you a drink and clinking his glass with yours instead of the guy you’re with right now.

Eddie knows him. Well, he doesn’t know him, he recognizes him from a tape with some absurd name like Sex Kittens 4 that featured a surprising amount of doggy style, considering the title.

Plus you in a never-ending stream of animal-print bikinis.

(He definitely did NOT go looking for every movie you’d ever made. No, that would be ridiculous. He just sort of…happened across one. Or five.)

And it’s not that he’s jealous—because there’s nothing to be jealous of. You met him doing a job. A job very much like the one you did with Eddie. You’re just catching up with an old coworker.

It’s fine. Totally fine. Did he mention it’s fine?

But then Tom Wanks put his hand on your hip, and before Eddie can take even a second to think, or to rationalize his actions, he’s striding up to you and taking your hand to drag you away.

The beaded fringe on your dress swishes noisily as he brings you with him behind a curtain that was set up as a backdrop for more photos. In the shadows behind it, your eyes glint a little meanly and your voice is barbed when you ask what the hell is the matter with him.

And he’s really not sure.

Because much like you, he’s not used to this; he’s not used to not saying exactly what is on his mind at any given time; he’s not used to holding anything back—not when it comes to you.

“I should have stayed with you,” he blurted out at last. “That was messed up, I—”

Your face falls and you dodge his gaze. “It’s fine, Eddie. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I am worried about it,” he shot back. “I could have said something, I could have told them—”

“What for?” you mutter, arms crossing in front of your chest. You look at the floor, hurt. Not just hurt, disappointed. “I mean, what…what would be the point? It’s not like we’re…or that you’re…”

He watches the words stall behind your lips, all of them trying to fight their way out like people on a crowded bus. But in their efforts, they only wind up clogging the exit so nothing gets through.

“God, listen to me!” you laugh bitterly. “I sound like some crazy, jealous…something, and I don’t know why I’m getting this upset when you don’t even like me—”

“Wait, what? Who the fuck said that?”

He can tell you’re shocked by the panic that rises in his voice, staring back at him wide-eyed.

“Wh-when we were filming, you never kissed me. So I thought…”

You fell silent as Eddie’s hands covered the sides of your face. Softly cradling your jaw, his thumbs brushing over your cheeks, he stares straight into your eyes and determinedly holds your gaze. 

Your breath stuttered, so lost in those deep brown pools you could hardly recall your own name. And even if you could speak, you weren’t entirely sure what you wanted to say.

Luckily, Eddie gave you something better to do with your mouth.

His lips meet yours in a gentle brush. His hold on your face never tightens, but you can feel the way his fingers flex like he’s resisting the urge to grip you harder. There’s a tenacity in his kiss, as if he’s trying to savor the taste of you, but struggling not to devour you whole.

You break apart too soon for his liking. He easily would have stayed there forever. And he braces himself for whatever might be coming—a slap across his face, a knee straight to his balls.

He might deserve both, but receives neither.

You don’t pull back so much as an inch, happy to let him keep your face close to his. He inhales shakily, still breathing you in, “I didn’t want the first time I did that to be on camera.”

You chuckle at him, dazed and grinning, trying to decide if this is a dream or not. If it is, you don’t ever want to wake up. You want to live in it. Your own hands creep up his stomach, tugging on his silky shirt, feeling the way he shivers in it when he feels the caress of your fingertips.

“What about the second?” you whisper.

And then he’s kissing you again.

Deeper. Hungrier. Messier.

He’s not kissing you like it’s his job; like he’s just doing what was written for him in a script—he’s doing it like it’s the only thing he’s ever wanted, desired, chosen to do. Like it’s all he needs.

Your bare back meets the cool wall as he pushes you up against it, sliding his hand inside the slit of your dress, hooking it under your knee to hitch your leg over his hip. He presses every single inch of himself against your seam, harder than he’s ever been in his whole fucking life.

The closest second being when you and he filmed just a few days ago.

You claw at him, pushing his suit jacket off his shoulders, pulling open more buttons on his shirt until the gossamer fabric tears and unravels.

“More,” he begs, kisses trailing down your neck. “Fucking please, sweetheart, I need more—”

Your hand takes on a life of its own, sliding down to cup his length through the luxurious suiting. It causes him to release a deep, desperate moan you can feel his lips spreading apart to let out. The sound of it ripples through your body like an electric shock in every extremity.

The dull roar of the crowd right on the other side of that curtain is only barely enough to cover the sound of you and Eddie’s passions. His touch is so enthralling, so engrossing, you are this close to letting him fuck you right there.

Room full of people be damned.

Eddie seems to have the same idea, his mouth blazing a trail down the middle of your chest and stomach as he drops to one knee, his other foot planted to support himself as he drapes your leg over his shoulder. A rush of excitement floods your body as you realize his intentions, fingers sliding into his unruly curls to grip them at the crown of his head.

But the very second his fingers pull your panties to the side and his tongue finds its home in your folds, a commotion breaks through your bliss.

There’s a loud crash as a cater waiter stumbles into the curtain obscuring your entangled bodies and drags it down with them as they fall.

Light floods the darkened space and a sound of collective amusement ripples through the crowd. No one is exactly surprised to see people hooking up—but it’s usually not until the afterparty.

Cocktail hour isn’t even over, for crying out loud.

Then they realize who it is.

The shutters of opportunistic photographers snap as you give Eddie’s hair a sharp tug. But he just moans loudly—too absorbed in what he’s doing to even realize what’s happened.

Finally, you pull him off your clit and he looks over his shoulder at the rest of the room.

Another round of snaps and flashes go off and his eyes return to yours, brightening when he sees the way you’re covering your mouth, fighting back laughter. His own lips, still shiny with your arousal, spread into a wide grin. His gaze lands on an emergency exit and he jumps to his feet, taking your hand in his and pulling you towards it tucked securely under his arm.

Flipping off the room behind him as you leave.

Together.

The trip back to your apartment is the longest cab ride of your life.

Whereas on the way to the convention center, you’d ridden mashed against your door trying to leave a respectable distance across the middle seat, Eddie practically has you in his lap on the way back. It’s like he thinks he’ll die if he stops touching you for even a second—lips on your neck, his hands roaming hungrily, whispering filth in your ear under the cover of the radio.

You do your best to catch the driver’s eye in the rearview, trying to shoot him an apologetic look or at least mouth a wholly insincere ‘sorry’ for the display. But he seems unphased.

Still, you stuff a wad of extra bills in his hand as you scramble out of his car. Unceremoniously crashing through the front door, you’re lucky not to break it down in your haste to get Eddie inside.

Of your apartment, that is.

Lips locked for every step across your cramped studio, you tumble to the bed and let out a soft grunt when a plastic hanger digs into your back. Hearing you yelp, Eddie pulls back and can see you’re lying on top of the ten or so discarded outfits you went through trying to decide on what to wear tonight. Sequins rustle under your bodies as the bed shakes with your gentle laughter, and Eddie drops a kiss to the tip of your nose before he climbs off you. Reluctantly.

He watches while you gather the dresses strewn across the bed, smiling when you try and stuff them back in your closet, fumbling with only the amber street light filtering through your blinds to see by. When you finally turn back to face him, he’s still smiling. Head tilted at you, eyes slowly raking over your form, heart rate picking up in his chest when yours do the same to him.

The pause is nice. It gives you both a minute to catch your breaths, for your brains to catch up with your bodies. Your steps turn careful and slow as you move towards him. With trembling fingers, he pulls open the last remaining buttons of his sheer shirt and lets it fall to his feet.

Remembering only just now that his jacket is still on the floor of that hotel ballroom.

You come to a stop in front of him and he closes the distance left. He reaches around you and pulls down the zipper of your dress, fingertips dragging lightly along your spine as he reveals it.

It’s the closest you’ve ever come to feeling like a gift someone is unwrapping.

With your dress pooled around your ankles, Eddie’s hands are free to wander. He runs them up and down your arms, sweeping them along the inside of your wrists to twine your fingers with his. He brings them to his lips to kiss and the sight of plush pink brushing your knuckles is bordering on being too much to handle—more erotic than anything you’ve ever filmed.

He’s going slow because it’s slowly dawning on him what you’re about to do. 

And how this time it’s not going to be for work or for a camera. It’s going to be real. 

Except…is it going to be real?

Should he do something different than what he did when you filmed? How can he, when he used all his best moves during the shoot? Shit…

He doesn’t want you thinking he’s just doing with you the same thing he does with everyone else; that this—that you—aren’t special to him.

Then suddenly, he’s not going slow anymore.

He’s stopped completely.

“You okay?” you whisper.

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out, like the word is made of sawdust. “I just, ahhh…I don’t know, I think I’m psyching myself out? Thinking too hard.”

“Thinking about what?” you whisper, your teeth tugging back your bottom lip.

His head just shakes, eyes still scanning your face while his thumb lightly strokes your jaw, until he lets out a sigh that’s heavy with fondness and whispers, “How I don’t want to mess this up.”

He takes another deep breath, letting his forehead rest against your own as his chest shudders. Confounded as to how something he’s done in front of a whole-ass camera crew could make him feel so self-conscious when it’s just you here with him. A few seconds of silence pass until his lips part in a smirk and his gaze cuts to the side, right to where a camera would be.

“Is it just me…or does it feel like something is missing?”

It takes a few minutes of digging to find your old camcorder buried in the depths of your closet. 

Eddie chuckles when you emerge, brandishing it with a flourish and a little ta-da! before you set it on top of your dresser pointed at the bed, angling it slightly to properly frame the shot.

The red light blinks as you hit ‘record,’ barely taking a second to check if there’s a tape inside. You let it run, capturing your figures half in shadows as he sits on the bed and pulls you into his lap. He helps you settle on his thighs, runs his hands up the backs of yours, slips his long fingers under the elastic band of your panties to rest on your hip. He pulls them back and snaps them softly on your skin, earning a hum of approval from behind your pressed lips.

You wriggle on top of him and delight in how it makes his chest reverberate with a low groan.

“That better?” you whisper, the answer to your question immediately stiffening underneath you. He nods fervently, his voice tight and strained as he struggles to keep his cool.

“Wanna taste you,” he grunts out roughly.

He moves his hands to grip your waist so he can flip you underneath him, but your hands find his shoulders and stop him before he can.

Big, doleful eyes look up at yours, his face etched with concern as you shake your head. His bottom lip wobbles as he searches your face for why.

In a reassuring press, you mash your lips to his and lace your fingers behind his neck. You kiss all the air out of his lungs, until his fingertips are digging into your flesh hard enough to leave ten tiny bruises. You kiss him like you’re trying to take the weight of the world off his shoulders, like you’re going to accept his every burden as your own so he doesn’t have to carry them alone.

There’s a quiet pop as your mouths separate and you press your chest flush with his, wrapping your arms around his neck so your lips find his ear as your nose nudges through his curls.

“Tell me you want me,” you whisper. “Tell me how much you want this.”

“I don’t want it,” he groans back, “I need it. I’ve needed it since I fucking met you.”

The heat in his voice, the rumble of it in your ear, causes a wave of arousal to rush through your body. You unwind your arms from around his neck and slip slowly, painfully slowly, from his lap to stand between his legs. You place a finger under his chin and tip his face up for him to look at you, your thumb settling in the tiny dip at its center. Too small to see, it could only be felt.

“Everyone always uses you,” you tell him softly, almost mournfully.

His eyes stay wide and hopeful, never leaving yours as you sink down to your knees. His long, dark lashes flutter as your hands run up his muscled thighs, the edges of your thumbs grazing the outline of his cock. He hisses through his teeth and you grin devilishly at the sound.

“I want you to use me,” you instruct him. “Take whatever you need, as much as you want.”

And you can literally see how your words affect him, his eyes bugging wide as the wheels in his head are turning behind them. He reaches out to touch your face and you turn it to kiss his palm.

“Sweetheart, I—oh, fuck,” he gasps, cut off with your sudden squeeze of his clothed cock.

“I’ll stop you if I need a break,” you reply firmly.

The muscles in his neck pull taught as he nods. He leans back on one elbow, reluctant to let his other hand leave your face. You kiss his bare stomach along the top of his waistband and he curls his hand around the back of your head, gripping it tighter when you tug down his fly.

And you knew Eddie’s dick well by now. You knew it inside of you as well as out. But there was nothing that could have prepared you for the sight of it tonight. Thick, and veiny, and weeping with pre that dribbles down its sides. He’s almost ashamed of it, almost embarrassed by how hard he is for you; by how close he is to blowing his load when you’ve not even gotten started.

It was practically a miracle he didn’t soil the inside of his suit when you pulled his hair earlier.

His pupils are blown out when your eyes meet his, your lips hovering so close to his cock he can feel your breath on it. Saliva pools under your tongue so rapidly, you almost feel like you’re at risk of it spilling out of your mouth and running down your chin when you speak.

“Fuck my throat, Eddie. Please.”

And he does. He lets you set the pace at first, still holding fast on the back of your head he watches your lips surround his tip. His chest heaves with deep, gasping breaths as you take him fully into your mouth and start to bob on his perfect cock. It’s almost too much, too perfect, the feeling of your warm, wet mouth and your soft tongue and, fuck, your hand—

He pants wildly as you cradle his sack, your fingertips stroking them and spreading the spit from your mouth that’s dribbling down his shaft to his balls. They tense in your palm and his stomach tightens the faster your mouth moves, the more your throat relaxes to take him in deep.

The man who gives the best head imaginable finally having the favor returned.

“Jesus Christ…”

Eddie's words are whispered like a prayer and you look up to take in the sight of him.

Eyes pinched shut, his brows drawn like he’s in pain even though the sounds he’s releasing are nothing short of euphoric. You tease all the most sensitive nooks and crannies of his cock, all the places that make his eyes roll back and his head loll on his shoulders and his chest heave. Every ridge, every vein, every muscle that twitches under the attention of your tongue.

“Oh, pl…p-please,” he gasps, tightening his hold on your hair to still your movements as his hips start to move in an instinctive and primal thrust.

He hits the back of your throat and you swallow more of him down, taking him deeper, deeper until your nose brushes the wiry hair at his base.

You groan around his length, enthralled by the exquisite ache of him hitting your soft palate, and the sound is Eddie’s undoing. He lets out a long, low moan and spills hot and thick down your throat. His arm trembles as he fights his own iron grip on the back of your head, forbidding himself from pulling your hair. You can feel the tremors of his fingers against your scalp.

His abdomen spasms as you stroke him through the aftershocks, flirting with overstimulation. Fucked-out eyes, heavy-lidded and sleepy, but nothing short of reverent, find yours and they’re wet—shiny, shimmering with tears that crowd their rims and threaten to spill down his cheeks.

Quick as you can, you’re on your feet cradling his jaw to ask if he’s okay. And Eddie can’t answer, can only nod as he kisses, kisses, kisses your palm, the heel of your hand, your wrist, down the inside of your arm all the way to your elbow.

He can’t kiss you enough, it seems. 

You giggle softly as you sit beside him and reach out to ruffle his bangs, tucking some of his hair behind his ear and letting your touch linger on his neck. With the pad of your thumb, you brush a tear that has leaked out of the corner of his eye. He looks back at you with a smile and swipes the pad of his thumb along the corner of your mouth to wipe away a drop of his spend.

And you know there’s still a lot left to figure out—damage control that will have to be done, difficult conversations that will have to be had. There will be whispers and rumors and sidelong glances.

Not to mention the firestorm those pictures of you two at the ceremony will undoubtedly stir up.

But none of that matters right now. Nothing does, beyond this bed and this night. Nothing else even exists outside the confines of this room.

All that matters is you and him.

You lay there for a while, just…being. Your fingers tracing his tattoos and the soft planes of his chest and stomach; his, the slope of your shoulders and the lines of your body he’s always wanted to know better. Quiet words pass back and forth, teasing jokes and soft confessions. Admissions of fears that held you both back and don’t seem so daunting anymore. Don’t seem so scary.

When he’s hard again, you pick up the camera and point it at him as you guide him to lay on his back. You push in close on his face when you sink down fully onto his length and start to ride him at an egregiously slow pace just so your shot holds steady. And because he looks so pretty taking it.

“Something wrong, Ed?” you goad him a smidge, toying with him in more ways than one when your pussy squeezes so tight around his cock it makes him lose his breath and pant out of control.

“F-fu…fuuuuuck meeee…” he whines and writhes, throwing his head back into the mattress.

“Oh,” you chuckle at him, speeding up just a hair, “I’m sorry, is that not what I was doing?”

His head jerks up, eyes ablaze as he stares you down through the camera lens. You peer at him over the top of the viewfinder and shiver despite the thin layer of sweat building on your skin.

Okay, yeah, that might have been a little too far. Or just far enough, you think, almost giddy.

“Nah,” he growls, the corner of his mouth curling up in a smirk. “Sorry is what you’re gonna be.”

A loud squeal bursts out of you as he rolls your bodies to the side and pins you underneath him, somehow managing to keep himself seated inside you the whole time. Breathless, you watch as he takes the camera from you and practically tosses it away so he can hold your arms over your head. For a while, all it captures is a blurry close-up of your duvet cover, the frame shaking in time with every deep, solid thrust of Eddie’s hips that rattles the entire bed and you in it when he gets going.

Your moans and his grunts mix in a symphony that will surely earn you some side-eyeing from your neighbors tomorrow, but you can’t bring yourself to give a single ounce of a shit.

The song that you make together swells to a crescendo as you topple over the precipice you’ve been dangling off the edge of practically from the moment you met him. Eddie fumbles like mad for the camera and picks it up, recording your blissful expression before he swoops in to press his lips back to yours. Kissing you like he’s trying to eat you, like he’s trying to fuse your faces.

You’re certainly not complaining.

And now that he’s the one with the camera, he’s eager to keep going. He pans it up and down your whole body, guiding you into every filthy position he’s been imagining all those long nights alone in his bed. Through his eyes behind the lens, there’s not a single angle on you that isn’t pristine. 

He gets you up on all fours, films tight on your ass as he squeezes it and cracks his palm down on it when he lets go. The sting makes you keen, your back arching as your hips thrust back—seeking more, more. His hand then smooths over your buzzing flesh, soothes the ache he’s made.

And even as you’re making it, you can tell this is not just another sex tape.

It’s a love tape.

thank you for reading — love you, mean it! 🏝️

[countlessofvoids]

Randomly came across one of the trailers for HTTYD: THW and watching it I realized; What you learn in the movie, is something you'd already know if you watched the trailers.

The Hidden World itself is supposed to be main mystery of the story and it's reveal is meant to take your breath away — yet it was already shown in the marketing material.

The reason why the dragons left is not really explored beyond " We reduced them to instictual animals Toothless gets a girlfriend and they have to fight another bad guy." You'd think there will be some big plot twist, something that'd change the formula a bit. Like doing something else with the antagonist(s), instead of pretty much what was already done with previous one (Drago)? Why not have it so every movie has an unique take on it's antagonist, instead of "evil man abuses dragons pt. 2: electric boogaloo"? (I'm getting a little off-track here sorry).

Then there's the characters — the same amount of depth given to them in the trailer, is the same amount they get in the final product. I mean, the side characters get more scenes, but that's about it.

The biggest surprise I can think of would be some scenes/lines being altered or removed.

[fluideli123]

I've watched the DP&W movie twice in theaters and three plus times on a pirated site, and I wanted to grant my analysis on Wade and Logan's relationship that not only respects Vanessa--because Vanessa was literally Wade's Soulmate until shit hit the fan and you can pry that fact from my cold dead hands. But also explains how Logan and Wade actually represent a a-spec experience and relationship that I feel like no one has really gotten into. Am I saying they're a-spec? No. But that doesn't mean queer relationships that are fairly normal in a-spec spaces doesn't mean they don't exist outside of them as well.

First of all, the only two reasons I believe Vanessa and Wade broke up was 1) Wade went back in time to save Vanessa and he told her after his usual routine of jokes and lies and 2) Wade finally believed he could be something more, a hero, only to be turned down by the people who are known for their heroism, leaving him lost.

I genuinely believe Vanessa had a hard time taking in that knowledge, but knowing Wade and everything they've been through she would get through that like the badass she is and work through it using her plans A-Z, as she always does. But I think to really stop that woman from continuing to start a family with Wade like she wanted to in Deadpool 2, is if Wade was no longer within the right mindset to do so.

Deadpool 1 introduced Wade as someone who believed he was a bad guy who got paid to fuck up worse guys, he refused the term hero, and the moment he even tried to reach for something selfless. An act that would hopefully spare Vanessa from the pain of cancer, it all got fucked up and he got turned into a monster. Someone he deemed even lesser than he was before. So far gone and completely removed from what he was loved for (his looks and personality, but how could his personality stand alone when he looked so ugly? As ugly as he always felt on the inside?)

So he turned to what he's always known: Tracking people down and making them pay. In his mind this only confirms that he's a monster, he isn't deserving of Vanessa, of anyone. Which is why he finds comfort in Blind Al, a woman who will only have to deal with his personality and not be able to see how ugly he actually is. Symbolism for showing only half of himself and not him in his entirety (not that he can hide it from her, she's too wise, knowledgeable, caring, and knows Wade better than he knows himself at this point.)

Eventually, he finishes his hunt and is still loved despite what had transpired. Vanessa still chose him, still loved him. So maybe despite how ugly he is, he can still be loved. This grounded him, solidified his self worth, have him such stability that he had a thriving relationship with Vanessa that they were SO ready to start a family, aspired to live that dream. Another act of selfishness. Only to, once again, be met by pain. Get his dream taken away, once again resorting to what he knows: revenge.

Wade wants to be a hero? He gets forcefully mutated. Wade wants a family? Vanessa gets killed. Both are immediately solved by death, but that self-loathing and sickening hatred towards himself do nothing to cure that same confirmation he had once thought he got over: That he wasn't a monster, he could be loved, be something else.

So of course Vanessa is who, even in death, looks him in the eyes and tells him he cares, he has always cared. He cares so deeply about the people in his life he meets who unconditionally love him for him as time passes, despite all his flaws.

Wade wants to be a hero? Colossus believes he can be. Wade wants to save the 13-year-old abused kid? Vanessa knows he can. He saves lives by sacrificing himself. He scarified his comfort to show Vanessa the full truth of his ugliness, he sacrificed his life for Russel to give him a better life. Maybe he isn't a complete monster, maybe he can believe again. He can be selfish, he can be reckless. So he goes back and saves more people. Heroes do that. They save the people they love. You don't hold the whole world on your shoulders, no, like Miles learned in ATSV you think of one person of the few people you want to fight against the world to protect. And he did just that.

With Vanessa back and a big family he can finally chase after what he wasn't meant for. Because it's only happened twice, it wouldn't happen again-

Rejection. He can't be a hero because people don't need him. He is the needy one, the one who wants to be needed, needs to be wanted. So, it's the crash. The final straw. He breaks. He breaks so hard because what the fuck is the point to trying if every time he is met with failure? Rejection? Pain? Loss? He becomes so stuck in figuring this all out he neglects his relationship with Vanessa, causing issues. They go separate ways, but still so close, because you don't just lose your best friend like that, even if you're no longer partners. They're always meant to be together one way or another.

So you have this broken man who is searching for purpose, years later still harboring this tiny flicker of hope that he can be greater. He can be great. He can be a hero.

His world is in trouble, he doesn't think twice saving it. He accepts he isn't perfect for this, not like all the big guys back in Avengers headquarters, but he can't let his loved ones die because of someone he's had a vendetta against the last two movies.

He literally fights and fights and fights to find someone to help him, Wade can't save who he loves he has to find someone else you can, anyone else.

Than a broken, desperate man walks into a bar to see another broken man who has since long given up.

The thing about Logan and Wade is that they don't need words. Wade blew himself up in order to die in the second movie, Logan drinks himself away, both knowing they can't die no matter how much they want to. How much they believe they deserve it.

So Wade sees a Wolverine who has potential, who hasn't hurt him (unlike the others, he gets hurt so much, guys) and places his faith in him without hesitation. From that moment on he has never truly doubted Logan's abilities nor his heroism, because he knew his Logan and if his world was anchored by a Logan than all Logan's are built with something he isn't. They're made to be heroes, made to be important. Yeah, they fight, but I strongly believe that's how two broken men say everything words can't possibly describe.

I mean what words could describe the way they go all out on each other, knowing the other can't die, the way Wade looks up at him, not wanting to regrow his entire body because he needs to save his world and understands Logan and has to decide to say something that'll convince him to help. Wade doesn't know if stopping the machine will completely save his world or if a new Logan will patch it up too, it's his own educated wish he passes onto Logan. Because just like Russel, he cares. He understands. He wants to help.

It's that faith, hope, and resistance and face of humor despite it all that causes Logan to stick by that dumb asses side. He lost everything, he is seeing someone like himself before he stumbled home drunk from the bar to find everyone dead. Someone who is capable of doing something he wasn't able to. He wants to help, more and more for Wade and less himself, a silent journey of healing following Wades steps everywhere they stumble into.

Because Logan was just drunk at a bar before being told he was needed to save a world, told he was the worst before being offered help anyone, getting praised over his capabilities, and than told again and again how he is able to be someone he never thought he could be. Much like Wade was and is.

Logan sees it. Wade most likely ignores it, much like anything else. He isn't very open with anyone other than Vanessa as we've learned.

So just- of course Wolverine is the honest one, of course he hits low, he sees himself and Wade and wants to hurt him. Wade wants to hurt him back, but only when he's directly attacked by his words and threats, a way of not taking shit. Logan took shit from the world and than didn't from Wade and his emotional rollercoster right. And I think without whatever happened in that Honda Odyssey things wouldn't have been the same. They needed that fight, that release, that hatred from themselves to burst into the form of someone else who could take it just as much as the other could.

Logan listens to Wade's home at the borderlands. Logan is given kindness and tough love. Logan joins. Logan begins to understand how most linger by Wade's side despite everything. He sees why. He's a force, he doesn't give up, he doesn't quit, not for others. It grants strength, though imperfect and messy.

Logan believes Wade deserves better. So he plans on sacrificing himself only for Wade to once again show how much of a Hero he wants to be and could be. Only for those two idiots to hold hands to madona and come to a mutual understanding and comfort that has Wade making room for Logan in his and Al's apartment.

And there is something so inherently a-spec about not being explicitly sexual with each other, having an understanding that goes beyond direct words and full truths. They they can hurt one another and it feels so good, so wanted and cherished. How they support one another by being fucked up and sloppy. They're wrecks and they help the other heal, do what they're too afraid to do.

What is more a-spec than two people looking at each other with adoration and trust? To be two people who cannot be placed within a single both because their relationship and meaning to one another isn't so neatly cut and within expectations? To love in a way that blood and standing side by side is a comfort? A steadying point in which everything becomes clearer with time?

They make me so fucking sick, they make me so FUCKING SICK.

[arlestial]

Hey, could you make a part two of how the Blue Lock boys make up for the forgotten date? (Nagi,Isagi,Bachira) 🌷

❝if you'd have been the one❞

synopsis : Life is sometimes difficult, keeping them busy and away from you; until it turned to take you away from them.

pairing : Isagi Yoichi, Nagi Seishiro, Bachira Meguru x genderneutral!reader •— Blue Lock

tw : Alternative endings (angst or fluff/comfort)

word count : 4.3k

author-note : Hi !! I’m so happy y’all liked this, so I decided to write a part II. Some wanted angst, others comfort, so I did both in order to please everyone :) The part I is here ! Thanks for all your kindness, I’m overjoyed to see so much attention on my writings 😭 I hope you’ll like it !! take care of yourself ♡

tag-list : @cecee77, @mandapanda16, @mariyumemi, @someonethatisnobody, @erintaro, @missalienqueen, @8-xnny, @miyanosm, @neuvilletteismybby

ISAGI YOICHI’s eyes widened when he saw your text, after the game. He knew he fucked-up the instant he stepped inside the soccer field, already regretting his decision. He won, but the stadium applause sounded like an awful ringtone that woke him up to reality, a shrill noise crashing his organs and piercing his ears. His heart was racing; not because of the victory, but because of the apprehension. The fear. The panic, that perhaps, he had lost you. But you wouldn’t leave him, right ? Everybody make errors. You would forgive him, no need to stress. At least, that’s what he was trying to convince himself. But in the depths of his own mind, he wasn’t this confident. He took his phone, excusing himself from his teammates that were celebrating, and isolated himself in the corridor. He tried to call, but you refused it twice. He groaned, his hands shaking, trying to tap a text quickly.

22:49p.m. | y/n ♡ : guess you made your choice then.

- read at 00:24a.m.

00:24a.m. | yoichi ♡ : honey please just accept the call

i know I fucked up, I’m sorry

i shouldn’t have done that

- read at 00:33a.m.

00:34a.m. | yoichi ♡ : i know you don’t want to talk to me right now

I’m coming over

- read at 00:38a.m.

00:39a.m. | y/n ♡ : gosh, how savvy and perspicacious of you.

- read at 00:39a.m.

00:40a.m. | yoichi ♡ : here in two minutes

- read at 00:41a.m.

You turned off your phone, completely mad. You clearly didn’t want to talk to him right now, especially this late. He couldn’t care less about you when he was playing on the field; and now, surprisingly, he knew that he fucked up and he regretted it ? Please. You decided to spend the night elsewhere, at your parents, since they were the only ones responding in the middle of the night - they were probably watching a movie at home and were a bit surprised to see you texting them a "hey, can I come over ? got an issue at home" text out-of-the-blue. As you exited your bedroom with a bag filled with spare clothes, you’re met by a raven-haired man, panting, still in his blue jersey, preventing you from leaving the house. He grabbed your waist when you tried to walk past him.

"Isagi, let me go."

"Love, listen. What I did was selfish, I know, it was a terrible mistake."

"So tell me, Isagi, when did you feel regret ? When you stood me up or when I texted you back, making it clear that I was upset ?"

"Actually, from the very first moment my foot landed on the field. But that doesn’t change anything, it’s still shitty of me, and i-"

"But it changes everything, in fact. So, you could’ve turned around. You could’ve joined me at this restaurant, like you promised me, no ? But you didn’t. So you just lied right in front of my face. How bold of you."

He felt like suffocating. You were right. He should’ve refused to play the match, even if there were the most talented players in the world; because you were his lover, goddamnit. He knew you were insecure, because he was rather absent, and he should’ve came to the date he promised to take you to. He was busy with Blue Lock, neglecting you in the process and not setting aside enough time to reassure you like he was supposed to. He wanted you to slap him, to punch him, as hard as you could; he wanted to suffer physically. It was easier to bear physical pain than to handle the mental distress he was in.

"But no, my sweet boyfriend Isagi Yoichi decided to stood me up to play some random game as if he’s not always away from me all the damn time."

"I don’t know why I did that, honestly. It was stupid, and I’m deeply sorry. You know that I love you a lot, right ? You’re the most important thing in my life, and I don’t want to loose you because I’m too immature to think before I-"

"Am I even enough for you ?"

You were losing patience, your tone now sharp, trying to bite away the tears from falling.

"Obviously you are, darling. You are more than enough, and you deserve so much better than me."

He hurried to say, his hands coming to your cheeks, gently stroking them with his thumbs. The concerned look on his face grew rapidly in a desperate, frightened one.

"That doesn’t feel like it. If it was the case, you’d have turned around. Soccer had always been your main interest, and I’ve always been the second. I don’t want to be with a guy that prefers a sport to his own partner."

ISAGI YOICHI had never experienced so much fear in a lapse of time this short. His heart skipped multiple beats - maybe it stopped completely, heavy. He heard the blood rushing in his veins, in his ears, as if the pulsations were the applause of a whole stadium; it was deafening. His breath hitched, goosebumps painting themselves on his clothed arms. Don’t go.

The choice was all yours, now.

↳ Your mind kept telling you that he wasn’t feeling any regret, that he wasn’t really sorry. If this situation presented itself again, he would pick the same decision, leaving you alone, completely by yourself in this stupid restaurant, below the pitiful looks of the waiters, probably whispering at each other who could even stood you up like that. He put distance in your relationship since weeks, months even, ghosting you when he was too tired to send you at least one text to let you know that he loved you still. Regardless of his lack of attention towards you, he wasn’t even capable of respecting his own promises, as he might prefer to play soccer with his friends as usual. And you were just there, always waiting for him, in every situation, waiting for him to come home with a warm smile and a good dinner, sharing kisses, hugs and cuddles on the couch, disappointed when he was reminding you that he’d be gone again in two or three days to return to Blue Lock. You were tired of it. It wasn’t even a relationship at this point.

"I’m not a toy you can play with for some time and then abandon like it’s nothing. My patience is not infinite."

"I never said that. It was an opportunity I couldn’t miss, and I wasn’t enough thoughtful to realize about the consequences of my actions. I just hope you can forgive me for it."

You pushed his wrists away from your face, glaring at him coldly, not wanting to cry for him. You took your bag and walked past him successfully this time, opening the door without giving him a single glance; just stopping in your tracks as you reached the doorknob.

"Goodbye, Isagi. I hope you’ll become the player you desired to be for so long."

You were his motivation, the person he wanted to make proud, the person he wanted to impress when showing his new capacities and his strength. The person he wanted to come home to, everyday, as lovesick as the day before. But now, the tears were flowing silently on his cheeks, as he couldn’t process what he saw. You, closing the door behind yourself, leaving him without any chance of coming back. Because you sincerely realize how much you love someone when you actually lose them.

↳ You tried to push him away, in a faint attempt to show how much you hated him right now. But he just stared at you, his gaze never fading, and he tilted your chin up with his hand. The other went straight to your waist, pressing you against him. Your eyes and his met; and you swore you’ve never saw a fonder look in your entire life. Orbs filled with pure love and softness, enamoured unpronounceable words, a silent plea begging your forgiveness. He leaned and kissed you gently, carefully. When he finally broke the kiss, he took your hand in his and intertwined your fingers together, pressing multiple kisses on the back of your hand without breaking the eye contact you both were sharing.

"You deserve someone better, honey. And I want- no, I will become this someone, that will love you properly. I promise you this - and if I break this promise, I swear, you can kill me however you like, it’s up to you."

You bit back a chuckle, amused by his words; but on the depths of your heart, you were fully aware that he was genuine.

"I’ll never disappoint you again. You’re the love of my life, I couldn’t handle loosing you. I’m sorry for what I did, again. I’m an asshole. Really."

He kissed your forehead with so much tenderness, a tenderness you missed during his long absence. He peppered kisses on your face, his grip on your waist tightening, as if you were going to slip away from him. He whispered something else, not daring to break the eye-contact,

"I’d rather watch the whole world burn and experience an endless suffering that having you leaving me for good."

NAGI SEISHIRO tried everything. After multiple unanswered calls and messages left on “seen”, he noticed that you’ve blocked him. He sighed, staring at his ceiling. Was it the end ? He tried to forget you, he really did. He tried to convince himself that you weren’t this important. He tried to wake-up each morning without searching for you underneath the sheets, only to find a cold bed next to him. Occupying his thoughts with games, movies, series, even soccer, wasn’t enough anymore. He needed you in his arms, and he was willing to do every single thing imaginable to get you back.

You were at one of your friend’s apartment, enjoying some time with her watching your favorite series. She left the couch to get you a drink, mumbling a quick "pause the episode, I don’t wanna miss it" before hurrying to the kitchen. You smiled, and did as she asked; until you heard a knock on the door. You frowned.

"You ordered take-out ?", you called your friend from the couch, questionably.

"Nah, I didn’t. Told you we were going to one of my friends’ restaurant this evening."

She came back from the kitchen, two glasses filled in her hands, her brows furrowed. She put them on the table, glancing at the door.

"Who is it then ?"

"Don’t know. Wait, be right back.", she quickly turned around, walking towards the door, and opening it slightly. Her face went blank in approximately 2 seconds, and she gulped.

"Um.. Well, that’s awkward."

You couldn’t hear correctly what your friend said to the stranger; you could only hear a low voice, that sounded awfully familiar. So, you decided to get up, trying to get a peek of the tall figure standing in the corridor.

Your eyes widened.

The series was long forgotten on the screen, the voices echoing between the walls, as you stared, dumbfounded, at him.

Seishiro.

Your friend shifted uncomfortably, deciding to leave you both alone for some privacy as she promptly went to her room. You didn’t know what to say. What to think. But the dark bags under his eyes, that looked stern and empty, his hair even more messy than before, gave you relatively an idea of how the two passed weeks had been for him.

"What are you even doing here, Nagi ?"

Ouch. The use of his name instead of his first name was abysmal; but a relieved sigh escaped from his lips. Finally. Your voice. It sounded so much better than your voicemail, that he had listened every night after you left him in your shared apartment.

"I’m sorry. I- I’m really, fucking sorry for what I did. I miss you, Y/N. I can’t-"

"Nagi, stop. I can’t do this right now."

You cut him instantly, trying to close the door. Well, trying, because he refrained you from doing so, laying his whole strength on the door to keep you from leaving him again.

"Please, Y/N, at least, hear me out."

His voice was pleading, begging even; as much as your heart broke with his wobbly words, you didn’t know what to think, what to say. You bit your inside cheek, wondering what to do, now that he was so close to you, after all this time.

NAGI SEISHIRO looked at you dead in the eye, his own blackish orbs watering at the sight of your frame standing in front of him. His hand wandered to your cheek, his fingertips almost grazing your smooth skin that he missed so bad, as if you were made of real porcelain. Porcelain that he’d break with only one feather touch. So he held back.

"I missed you so much," his voice broke, approaching you hesitantly. "So fucking much. I’m sorry for neglecting you and taking you for granted all the time, I’m sorry I didn’t give you the attention you deserved, the attention you needed. I need you to come back to me. I can’t live without you, baby."

Forgiving him was a tough choice. Your heart was aching at the sight of tears rolling down his cheeks. You’ve never seen Nagi cry before, at least, not cries of pain. But he hurt you, he really did. These two weeks were just obnoxious to him, but they were worse to you. Seeing his texts, his calls, deciding to block him anyway - it was laborious, to say the least, because your feelings for him were still there, haunting your mind constantly, day and night.

The choice was all yours, now.

↳ How could you just forgive him like that ? After all he did ? Sure, you meant a lot to him, but did you mean more than anything else ? You were always second, never the first, and it became clearer each day that passed that you weren’t as important as you thought you would be for him. He didn’t even made time for you in his oh-so-important schedule, focusing on soccer and his fucking games, hanging out with his friends who knows where, instead of you. He chose it. It wasn’t random. You weren’t his priority at all. Sitting patiently on the couch, staring at the door with this constant lovesick gaze, waiting for him to return to finally go on your well promised date. But he never returned. And you weren’t going to return either. It was enough.

"You know what ? You were the first thing in my mind, everyday. You always have been the first person I was thinking of in whatever situation I was in. The only voice I wanted to hear, the only person I wanted to see, the only gaze I wanted to get lost in - now don’t tell me you feel the same."

"I do-", but you immediately cut him off, anger taking the best of you.

"You’re a freaking liar. What’s the next step, uh ? You’re going to promise me you’ve changed ? You think I’m stupid or something ? I’m not naive, Nagi, I’ve never been your priority and I’ll never be."

"You don’t understand, Y/N. I’ve been busy, you’re right, but give me a second chance. I promi- I’ll not make the same mistake again, that’s for sure. I realized that you were extremely important to me, more important that I’d like to admit actually, I can’t bear seeing you without me at your side, it just hurts too much. I’m just asking for a second chance."

"As much as it hurts to say, it’s over. I’m not going to give you a second chance when I knew damn well that it’ll not change anything. If you needed time to process your love for me, I’m definitely going to give you time to process it even more."

His eyes widened when he saw you slowly closing the door, in a faint attempt of ending the discussion.

"No, wait, I beg-"

"Move on. It won’t be so difficult anyway, spend some time with your friends and your games, you’ll soon forget about me."

He was now staring at the wooden door of the apartment, tears streaming down his features. He lost you for good this time. And he finally understood how it felt to receive the same treatment that he gave you; to be abandoned by your lover when you needed them the most.

↳ Seeing him in tears didn’t really help your case. Your heart burnt, and you soon felt yourself tearing up, your vision blurred. You let out a broken sob, to which he responded with a call of your name - desperate, probably as broken as your cries - and he embraced you tightly, his nose nuzzling on your neck, sighing when he finally touched you, melting in the loveable hold he wished to feel again. He kept repeating the same apologies, the same confessions of love, hoping it’d soothe your tears.

"I don’t want to hurt you ever again," he mumbled, stroking the back of your hair gently, "I’ll never hurt you ever again.", he assured with a shaky voice.

He kissed your temple softly, still holding you close to him, your head resting on his chest.

"It’ll be the last time I’ll ever put something above you. You’re the most important thing to me - I can’t live without your presence near me all the time. I’m sorry I just realized that I needed to tell you this now. I should’ve known you deserved to hear it properly,"

"You’ll be my highest priority from now on, as it should’ve been from the very beginning, angel."

BACHIRA MEGURU was anxious. At first, he decided to give you space. He hated arguments with you, always trying to avoid them, and he thought that distancing himself might help the situation. Spoiler alert, it didn’t. Sweaty palms grabbing his phone, and immediately turning it off, utterly incompetent. He didn’t want to argue, to entertain a conflict with you; he prefered your smiles and your soft giggles in tickle fights. He missed them. The sound of your hard laughs, the look of your teasing grins. However, he couldn’t bring himself to text you, nor to call you, afraid that you’d pronounce a dry "it’s over". He couldn’t handle the pain, and avoiding it wasn’t the best idea to fix the issue. Meanwhile, it had been 3 weeks, you were now nearly convinced that your relationship with him had come to an end. No texts, no calls, no attempts to see you, you founded it weird, but you didn’t question it. It worried you a bit, yeah, but you weren’t going to chase after him if he didn’t want to talk about it. You were more hurt than worried; after all your moments together, the shared memories and the heavy feelings, he just moved on this easily ? Even though it was totally his fault ? You just scoffed when your friends asked about him, hiding your devasted state behind a mocking tone, saying it was probably over now. You waited for a message all the time, staring at the screen, angry fat tears rolling down your cheeks in frustration. What an asshole.

"You never texted them ? Bachira, are you crazy ?"

Isagi exclaimed, in utter shock. They were in his bedroom, Isagi was sitting on his bed, unable to process what Bachira just told him. The usually joyful man paced around, his face in his hands.

"I- I didn’t know what to say ! I fucked up really bad this time, I was scared of losing them."

"Man, you definitely lost them now. It’s been 3 weeks, you should’ve said something earlier !", Isagi replied, nearly strangling himself in desbelief.

"I know. What should I do ?"

"Bachira..", he sighed, biting his lip in despair, "it’s probably too late now. They’re most likely thinking that you don’t love them anymore or that you moved on."

"But I didn’t ?", Bachira whined when Isagi stood up and smacked his head, annoyed. Isagi mumbled something inaudible, probably about his naivety or his stupidness, again.

"But that’s what it looks like, bro. You stood them up, and they got no news from you, don’t be stupid. Everyone would think the same thing."

Bachira gulped. He was right. And without hesitation, he ran away from his home, heading towards your place, in hope you would accept his apologies. He never sprinted this fast in his entire life, his muscles burning, his ankles aching from the impact of his feet against the stiff concrete of the streets he was running in. The road seemed even longer than usual, and when he finally arrived on your doorstep, he was panting, his hands shaking as he hesitantly knocked. He felt nauseous. Emotions overwhelmed him when he finally saw your form opening the door with a worried look.

"Meguru ? What are you even doing here ?"

He immediately took you in his arms, his head buried in the crook of your neck, breathing-in your comfortable scent, relieved. You yelped in surprise, not reciprocating the hug.

"I missed you so much."

He muttered, still trying to catch his breath. You frowned, surprised by his presence.

"It had been 3 weeks, Meguru. It’s a bit late to come here."

"I know. I should’ve come earlier. I’m so sorry, Y/N. Please, forgive me ? I promise I won’t do it again !"

BACHIRA MEGURU didn’t want to let go of you, choosing to hold you even tighter, letting his tears soak your shirt. He couldn’t care less about crashing your bones with just arms; if it was possible, he’d live in your skin. That seemed creepy, to say the least, but he enjoyed over-proximity with you, and he couldn’t bear to be apart from you anymore.

The choice was all yours, now.

↳ After 3 weeks, seriously ? You pushed him off of you, clearly not amused by his whines. You just felt anger, disappointment, embarrassment.

"Meguru, you left me alone for 3 weeks straight, and now you’re coming unannounced as if it was actually common ?"

"You don’t understand, Y/N !! I was too anxious of your reaction after our argument. I didn’t know how to deal with the guilt I felt, I didn’t know how to apologize properly.."

"No, you don’t understand. You really think that ghosting and ignoring people as if they never existed was a solution ? I should be the one to do that, not you. You’re always avoiding conflict and I’m so sick of it."

"I know-"

"No, you don’t !", you sneered, taking a long breath to soothe your nerves, "You never did. You haven’t remembered our anniversary - and it’s not the only thing you’ve forgotten along the way. You never took our conversations seriously, you never put any attention in our memories and our celebrations for them. I don’t want to be with someone who’s not even capable of being mindful of our important moments together and of our special dates. If it’s not important to you, alas, it is for me. I won’t give up another thing, especially if it’s something that is dear to me."

"It’s important for me, I swear. I just don’t know how to show it correctly."

"Then learn. But you can count me out."

You opened the door, leaving a broken Bachira behind, reaching after you. But you turned to stop him, giving him a quick nod, a silent no. The weak smile on your face shushed the golden-eyed boy. And he understood.

"I wish you the best, Meguru."

↳ You bit your inside cheek. Always giving promises he couldn’t keep, with a beam and butterfly kisses. And as much as you loved him, you didn’t know if you could tolerate it again, if your heart could handle another betrayal.

"You’re always promising the same things, but you’re never actually changing.", you argued.

"I can. I know I disappointed you, and you have every right to be upset. I’m trying my best, learning to manage my feelings and my habits is hard and tough, but I’ll do it for you. I’m really trying, Y/N,", he said, his voice breaking slightly, "I’m not used to this. It’s- you’re my first love, and I really hope you’ll be my last. I don’t have any experience in terms of relationships. If dates are important to you, I’ll make all the efforts in the world to make them special and memorable. I want to grow old with you, so please, give me one last chance to prove you that I’m worth it."

You hesitated for some seconds. He wasn’t the type to lie, and right now, he sounded strangely serious. It felt out-of-character, but you needed it to actually make up a decision.

"Fine. But it’s your last chance.", you finally whispered,

"Yes ma’am. Trust me on this one, I’ll make you proud of my work."

He sighed, relieved, immediately peppering your face with kisses. You giggled, trying to push him away.

"Gosh, I missed this sound. Oh- and I’m taking you on a date after; that’s the least I can do. I love you to the moon and to saturn, Y/N. Thank you for everything."

[orion-archives]

For the ask meme- all the questions for Bayverse Sentinel please

AAAAAAA–

Sorry for the late response, this took a while:

1. Canon I outright reject

I don’t think I have any. I really like how his character is.

2. A canon or headcanon hill I will die on

He wanted to bring Cybertron not because it was his home or because he loved it like Optimus or Megatron. He wanted to bring Cybertron back because he was adored and worshiped like a god there. On Earth, while he was still a leader and well-respected by the Autobots, he wasn’t looked by humans like a god or even a king.

He was just another machine.

And he didn’t like that.

3. Obscure headcanon

He’s Megatron and Optimus’ biological dad.

4. Favorite line

“We were gods once, all of us! But here there will only be one!”

5. Best personality trait

His intelligence and how he can appear so kind when he wants (if I didn’t know better, I would trust him with my life and to gently hold me)

6. Worst personality trait

His massive ego.

7. Age/height/weight headcanon

Age: He’s older than Megatron and Optimus but not the same age as, for example, The Fallen (that mf is A N C I E N T)

Height: Taking Megatron’s canon height in consideration, I hc Sentinel is 33 feet or around 10 meters (slightly shorter than Megatron [I hc Megatron unconsciously lowers his body to appear smaller or the same height around Sentinel until he snaps] and taller than Optimus)

Weight: No idea, I suck at guessing/making weights.

8. Unpopular opinion about them

He was never in the right, he was not a hero. Just because humanity later turned against the transformers, that doesn’t mean Sentinel was in the right in trying to enslave and wipe out humanity.

Also, he isn’t a false Prime and the Matrix wouldn’t have rejected him. People say he refused it because he knew the Matrix would turn into dust because he was planning to betray the Autobots, but let’s remember the facts that:

A) It floated on his hand, so he is a true Prime.

B) The Fallen was able to not just have it float on his hand but actually TOUCH the Matrix in the second film even after all the things he did.

9. Scene that first made me love (or hate) the character

Love: His talk with Optimus on the mountains/nature.

Hate: When he betrayed the Autobots, killed Ironhide, Mudflap and Skids, threatened Mearing to take her with him and force her to watch as he murdered every single human –no matter if it was a man, woman, elder or child– if he wasn’t given the pillars and almost stomped to death Sam and Lennox (mix of movie, comic and book)

10. Best moment on screen (or in the book)

His final fight with Optimus (and Megatron in the book)

11. Faceclaim for the role

Leonard Nimoy, his VA for Dark of the Moon.

I mean… look at him! They obviously used him as base for Sentinel’s design (I love when that happens)

12. Crack headcanon

His beard is really soft (as soft as metal can be. Soft for cybertronian standards)

13. Dumbest thing they've ever done

Attacking Megatron when he declared they would rebuild Cybertron together. Like, Sentinel, you stupid bitch, HE IS YOUR ALLY. AND HE NEVER SAID YOU WOULD WORK FOR HIM, HE SAID T-O-G-E-T-H-E-R.

If he hadn’t done that (twice in the book), Megatron probably would have never turned against him.

Dumbass.

14. Most heroic moment

Uhh…

15. Worst thing they've ever done

Trying to enslave humanity and commit massive genocide on the rest of Earth.

16. Deepest darkest secret they won’t even admit to themselves

Deep down, a small part of him regrets betraying Optimus and during the Chicago battle, Sentinel wished to have had Optimus on his side instead of Megatron.

17. Quotes, songs, poems, etc. that I associate with them

Hohoho, I actually have a few:

• Good to be King

• Babylon

• Thunder Bringer

• Crucified

18. What they'd go to see a therapist about

God complex (Optimus would have to drag him to see the therapist)

19. Vices/bad habits

There aren’t any canon ones, but I headcanon he overtrains to the point of injury. Following that, I also hc he did this with Megatron in his teenage/young adult years to prepare him to be High Protector of Cybertron once they found the Allspark.

20. Scars

None as far as I know/headcanon.

21. Drink of choice (not just alcoholic)

High grade or normal energon but if he could, he would drink gallons of coffee in a single sitting. I just know it.

22. Best physical feature

…MaY I sPEAK (joking)

I really like his ear-things, the shape of his chest and the things he has on his back.

23. If they were a scented candle, what would they smell like?

He probably smells like smoke, hot metal and burned oil, but Sentinel gives me the vibe of almonds, olive or grapes for some reason.

24. Most annoying habit

Not sure. Maybe constantly feeling his position threatened and reminding others of it (like he did with Megatron and Mearing)?

25. 3 things they'd want to take with them if they were dropped off in the middle of nowhere

The pillars, the Primax Blade and his rust cannon.

26. What they would do if stuck in an elevator with [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

If it’s Optimus, have a chat with him.

If it’s Megatron, try to be as far as possible from him in the elevator.

If it’s a human, step on them “““accidentally”””

27. Their guilty pleasure

I’m gonna take a guess and say walking through Earth’s landscapes.

28. How they feel about [insert character of your choice from the same fandom]

Optimus: “My favorite, brave, almost perfect, a great cybertronian, my heir… but too soft and not willing in taking difficult decisions”

Megatron: “Good war machine, a firm believer of my words yet I don’t like the rest of him and feel ashamed how he ended up”

Or at least that's how I see it.

29. Eating habits (hc)

Fairly normal, but I headcanon he has a sweet tooth and enjoys cybertronians treats.

30. Sleeping habits (hc)

Terrible. He’s the type of person that will sleep a 10 minute nap and call it enough, though he will recharge at one point for a long period of time when his body can no longer keep up. Then, the cycle repeats.

31. If they had a tumblr what would it look like?

Idk :(

32. Something guaranteed to make them smile/laugh

Spending time with his favorite son, Optimus, a compliment from anyone, any show of respect/devotion to him.

33. Something guaranteed to make them cry

…

34. How they react when they are feeling X emotion (sad, angry, excited, scared, etc.— can specify as many as you like)

Oh, yes, headcanon time!

• Happy: Smiling, ears up, chest puffed.

• Angry: Frowning, ears pinned (the more low they are, the more angry he is), teeth clenched, narrowing eyes, standing straight to full height, the cylinders in his chest roll slowly.

• Excited: Ears twitch, eyebrows lifted, cylinders roll quickly.

• Sad: Ears dropped, eyebrows downwards, eyes shine is dimmer, shoulders go down.

• Scared: Ears can be slightly pinned (danger is visible) or fully erect (sensing danger), pupils shrink, body is tense, cylinders roll quickly.

• Flirty/playful: Ears twitch or point in different directions (one can be lower than the other one), one eyebrow lifted, confident smile.

35. Their idea of a perfect day

On Cybertron, a sunny day without problems, walk around, get a few compliments/bows, chat with Optimus, drink some high grade energon and enjoy the sunset.

36. Their favorite season

I think it would be summer. After living for who knows how long in darkness on Cybertron, I think Sentinel would enjoy summer and the longer days it brings along the warmth.

37. What they really think about themselves

They are above everyone and everything else since creation.

38. Favorite holiday

He doesn’t have one.

39. Favorite game

AmOnG uS (I’m kidding, he’s a boomer)

Cybertronian equivalent of chess, maybe?

40. Favorite book

I don’t know.

41. If they could have lunch with anyone in the world (living or dead, from any fictional universe or the real world), who would it be?

Primus.

42. 3 comfort items

Uh…

43. 3 favorite foods and 3 they despise

UHH…

44. Their happiest memory

Restoring Cybertron by finding the Allspark and becoming ruler of the planet.

45. Their favorite celebrity

Primus (does God count as a celebrity–)

46. The person they most admire

Primus.

47. Their dream job

Being a Prime (he already is)

48. Scariest moment of their life

When Starscream shot down the Ark when he was escaping with the pillars to meet with Megatron.

49. Favorite toy as a child

I don’t know…

50. A memory they've blocked out

He remembers raising Optimus and telling him stories about greatness and the legends of the Primes and the Allspark… but he has long forgotten also raising Megatron with the same tales (half headcanon, half canon)

Ask game here!

[gravedwe11er]

Echoes through the cosmos

My friend @cosmique-oddity had a brilliant idea about mecha AU Coswave and I had to write my own take on it. Make sure to check out his wondeful writing/art for this concept too! We're posting our works in tandem, so by the time you see this, it should be on his blog.

Aaanyway, this was supposed to be a short one-shot. It is not. Part two and three will be coming soon. As always, based on the Mecha AU by @keferon.

When he was a kid, the first book he’d ever gotten was a children’s space encyclopedia.

Secrets of the cosmos, it was titled, and he’d fallen in love with it at first glance. It talked about planets and stars and the possibilities of alien life, and he’d carried it around everywhere for years, so much so that it earned him the nickname Cosmos from his peers. It might have been a little mocking at the time, but he’d refused to take it as an insult - quite the opposite, really, and eventually, it stuck.

On clear nights, he’d sometimes sneak out of his house after bedtime, lie down on the grass and just look at the sky. He’d watch the stars flicker, thinking of distant planets filled with cool alien people. Imagined himself meeting them one day, leaving Earth behind for greater adventures and new friends, and whenever he saw a shooting star, only one wish ever came to mind – “I want to meet an alien someday!”

In retrospect, perhaps he should have wished for something else. Chocolate cake for breakfast, maybe.

Because the aliens came. And unlike in the movies, they came with little fanfare; no dramatic declarations of war, no menacing signals sent over the airwaves or bright lights in the sky. They just dropped down from atmo and started ripping humanity to pieces.

Cosmos, who at that point had been in his last year of college and working an internship at decently large observatory, got pretty much front row seats to the first planetfall. The quintessons hadn’t bothered to hide. Hadn’t needed to, really – they’d had too much of an upper hand to worry much about human defense forces.

Life after that was a bit of a blur. The shatterdomes sprung up in a matter of months, humanity started fighting back and actually winning sometimes. Cosmos graduated and got hired immediately as one of the many, many people monitoring satellite data, watching for any incoming quint dropships.

And while yes, even a few minutes of warning ahead of an incoming enemy drop could save thousands of lives, it was never quite enough. New mecha were being made constantly, but such things take time, and the losses kept mounting. Clearly, something else needed to be done.

Which is how Cosmos finds himself here, orbiting some twenty thousand kilometers away from Earth in a haphazard little shoebox of an observation station, all alone in the void between worlds.

Well, to be fair, the actual scientific equipment of the station is top of the line. It’s just the everything else that his bosses on Earth skimped out on. The interior is cramped, dull and grey, with only the bare necessities needed for his long-term functioning as a glorified space cameraman. His days are fairly monotone too – exercise routines to keep up his muscle and bone density twice a day, interspersed with long hours of going over telescope footage, checking for enemy signals and keeping an eye out for any potential anomalies.

Now, despite his occasional grumblings about the quality of life here, he’s not really bothered by most of it. Besides, he gets it – there’s only so many resources the world can spare. He’s fulfilling his dream and helping save lives in the process, so he can put up with a little discomfort. It’s still better than his old college dorm, that’s for sure.

He is in space. Actually in space. That little detail sort of makes up for a majority of the gripes he has about the station.

All except one.

When he signed up for this mission, he knew he’d be alone up here. He just didn’t know how much it would ache.

For the record, it’s not like he’s completely cut off from others- that’d be a one-way ticket to madness, and even the most heartless of higher-ups know it. They’d given him a fast internet connection and permission to make as many video calls as he needs, as long as it doesn’t affect his work. He has his parents back on Earth, and his fellow watchmen are usually up for a quick chat, but- It’s not the same. It’s not nearly enough.

Nothing can replace seeing another living being with his own eyes, a casual pat on the shoulder or just the simple warmth of a person existing in your general vicinity. The longer he stays here, the more chill seeps into his bones, into his very soul.

Soma days, it’s as if there’s a layer of frost underneath his skin, and he’s not sure how long he can take it before he shatters.

Cosmos is sipping on his breakfast coffee when the main console pings, the custom alert he’s set for this specific anomaly making him scramble for the railings immediately. Floating over, he goes to check the data, and- yeah, there it is again.

These signals have been a mystery for the past month now. As of yet, the only thing anyone knows about them is that they’re not from the quintessons and are seemingly completely random. Mission control stopped caring about them once they figured out they’re not of enemy origin, but he and a few of his fellow watchmen have been trying their best to learn more. Command hasn’t told them to quit it yet, so Cosmos assumes they don’t mind, at least.

Not that they’ve really gotten anywhere. A few times a day, the signal will originate from seemingly nowhere, just barely strong enough to be noted, bounce around a few satellites and disappear. No pattern that they can see, no changes in strength or even any indication as to its purpose. It’s just- there.

So far, it looks like he’s not figuring it out today either. Still, he logs the data into his personal file and straps himself into his chair; might as well get to work, since he’s already here.

The quintesson warships have their drop off point on the edge of the asteroid belt, about halfway between Jupiter and Mars. Same place every time. Scientists down on Earth have been throwing around theories as to why, talking about wormholes, string theory and weak spots in the time-space continuum, but it’s more speculation than anything for the most part. Faster than light travel was supposed to be the stuff of fiction after all, but here they are. One moment there’s empty space, and next there is a warship. Really exciting stuff, really! It would just be a lot better if it wasn’t being used to ruin his home.

The quints’ sub light engines reach some impressive speeds as well, but they’re still slow enough to give the people on Earth half a day’s notice before they make planetfall, provided they’re informed the moment the ships appear. Which is why Cosmos is here, watching both the space around both the planet itself and the drop-off zone, warning of incoming attacks. Or, well, to be more precise- he’s mostly watching over the equipment doing all those things, and making sure it keeps doing them no matter what. The human failsafe, so to speak.

It's a bit of a hurry up and wait sort of job. The few days after a drop, it’s constant reports and data being sent back and forth, trying to decipher enemy comms and a simmering worry in his gut as he hopes the pilots down there manage to fend off the quints without heavy casualties. Then, it’s back to long silences and practically twiddling his thumbs, waiting for the chaos to erupt once again.

Which brings him back to the signals. They’re something to break up the monotony, something to occupy his thought on the days when the systems have nothing else to report, like today. Or the past two weeks.

That is why, when a small group of quints suddenly peels off from behind Earth’s mass, heading full speed in his general direction, Cosmos nearly suffers a heart attack. The station’s sensors scream at him, and he may or may not begin panicking a little. He’s a sitting duck here- the station has no defensive capabilities, and no shuttle could get to him fast enough. That is, if they even bothered to try in the first place.

But- as he’s trying and failing to open a last call to his family with shaking fingers, he notices the quintessons slowing down to a stop, still nowhere near his position. Instead, they seem to be targeting - he types a few commands into the sensory array with clammy hands - a communications satellite? It looks like any of the thousands of others like it, ESA make, if he had to guess, so why-

And then the satellite- moves. Parts of it shift around each other, forming what looks like limbs and a head, and- no, okay, what?

The satellite, which is now very much not a satellite anymore, opens fire at the quints. Cosmos watches the scene through several sets of digital eyes, mind reeling as the small enemy platoon is- well, torn to shreds, to put it mildly. Whatever this mech is, it’s incredibly efficient, dodging between enemy strikes and dealing devastating blows of its own. His own? Is there a pilot in there? He doesn’t think so; if such technology was in use, he’d have known about it.

Then again, it could be a prototype of some sort. A secret project, maybe? That sounds slightly more plausible, but still- look, Cosmos is no mecha engineer, but even he can recognize something for being wildly out of human technological scope when he sees it. Which leaves only one remaining option, really.

Whatever this is, it’s not from Earth.

And yeah, alright, shit. That’s- well, it’s probably not a bad thing? Seeing as it just sliced through a bunch of quints like a knife through butter, it’s safe to assume it’s not aligned with them. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, right? God, Cosmos certainly hopes so, at least.

As the last of the quintessons die, their bodies floating off into the distance, the station’s alarms turn off one by one. All except his custom one, that is. The cheery little chime keeps on ringing, one screen off to the side showing the same odd signal he’s been tracking for weeks now, only stronger. Much, much stronger. Having started the moment the satellite changed shape, the signal keeps going, now recognizable as a multi-layered frequency and coming directly from the alien mech itself.

He's not sure if it’s the adrenaline, his innate curiosity or just plain madness, but Cosmos does something very, very stupid. With still shaking fingers, he tunes into the frequency, puts his headset on, and calls out.

“Unknown craft, this is Cosmos of the Hermes-9, please-“ his voice hitches. Swallowing tightly, he continues, “please identify yourself. I repeat, this is Cosmos of the Hermes-9, unknows craft, please identify yourself. Over.”

For a few moments, the silence is deafening as Cosmos waits for an answer, fear and anticipation mixing in his gut. Then, the mech turns around. Two glowing red optics look straight at him, as if bypassing the hull of his station and piercing through his very soul. His screens black out one by one in rapid succession, words draping themselves across the darkened expanse like stars against the endless void of the universe.

[Designation: Soundwave.]

[skrrtscree]

P3M MAKOTO YUKI MISCONCEPTIONS

To be honest, it kind of annoys me when people watch the persona 3 movies and come away with it with the wrong idea of what Makotos character is in them. I don't mean the people who don't like the movies or their portrayal of him. It's fine if you don't, btw. Media is subjective, and different people will take away different things from the same thing, but I feel like some people end up completely missing the mark and mischaractizing that version of him.

For all the odd choices the p3 movies make, I'm adamant that his character and his arc is the best part about them, so it kind of urks me when i see tharpeople take away from it is that 'he's emotionless and devoid of personality' or 'a complete asshole who doesn't care about anything' both of which is untrue in all the films.

CW: blood in one of the images (the car accident scene, it just shows the hand but still)

First of all, the whole him being 'rude and uncaring' thing; To be honest, nothing he says strikes me as rude, it all comes off as blunt and not fitting the situation (him asking if they can leave during the hospital scene, and his answer seemingly having no sympathy when they talk to Natsuki). Of course to those who don't know him that well, he comes off as cold especially since his facial expression or tone barely change.

And the uncaring bit continues to get debunked through every film. Even in the first film, where he's closed himself off and doesn't care about living. He awakens to his persona to protect Yukari, he helps Fuuka collect her stuff twice despite not knowing her and even listens to her talk about Natsuki, he summons a different persona and throws himself at the Priestess to save Junpei. He goes against what he was told to do and goes straight into Tartarus because of the fear that his team will die if he doesn't.

It's made clear in the first movie that despite avoiding connections with people, he still can't let people die, deep down he cares about those around him getting hurt and wants to prevent that. It seems to heavily be rooted by his PTSD of the accident, him getting flashbacks to it in both the second and third full moon at the thought of someone dying. He's willing to throw himself in danger, not giving up even if he gets hurt or could exhaust himself, he has no care about his life, but he still cares about those around him.

The only claim I could see holding weight is the 'no personality' part but that's mainly because he spends half of the first film following orders from other people, but that itself can be seen as part of him, he doesn't have any direction or any care about his life so he follows what everyone tells and wants from him. He fights because he was told hed make a great asset to the team, he stays behind because him going would make Yukari mad, he has no reason not to listen or any argument to refute it, and this is dismantled near the end where he refuses to listen when they tell him to run because he can't let anyone die.

This is all I've gathered from the first movie still, I could carry on for all of them (and there is alot to talk about in each one in regards to his character) but I think I've made my point. Not only does they continue to prove those points incorrect, his character continues to evolve with the events around him.

I don't think there's a right or wrong way to write or portray makoto. The movies are not the be- all-all-end all of his characterization, but when you're talking about or writing that specific version of him, just don't end up writing him in a way that completely contradicts what the film shows.

[dmercer91]

opposites attract au headcanons, lf63

black cat! reader x golden retriever! luca fantilli

if anyone has anymore hcs for this send them in!!! or if you have a nickname to use for y/n! i love this au sm it’s like my child

regardless of the fact that everyone knows and it’s very obvious, you refuse to admit that you have a soft spot for luca

you keep his favourite drink stocked in your fridge at all times

you let him hold your hand and play with your rings even in public

you asked a friend for their big ten password to watch his away games

you, unfortunately, have become a good luck charm for the wolverines. adam needs to mess up your hair and make your bangs nearly unfixable before every game

the first time he did it he scored twice, however you threatened to break his hand so he didn’t do it the next game, only for them to get actually embarrassingly crushed

luca was upset after the loss so the next weekend you grabbed adam’s wrist and plopped his hand onto your head looking thrilled with your life

you were hoping they’d lose. luke scored a hattrick. you started bringing a pocket mirror to fix your bangs

luca got you a ring with the sun on it, and has a matching one with a moon hanging from his chain

he very adorably explained that he chose the moon and sun because of your relationship dynamic and you hate to admit to yourself that it made you gush

you’ll go to his and adam’s dorm, and you often beat him there if it’s after class, so you’ll take that time to raid his closet and layer every blanket in the room over your shoulders while you draw

sometimes adam beats him back, too and the first few times he was very confused but now the thinks it’s endearing

luca loves scalp scratches

like, loves them

at least once a week you guys have movie night at your apartment, cause you’re a sophomore

sometimes you’ll be sitting in the corner of the couch drawing and he just stares at you in complete awe

he loves watching you draw

he loves seeing the final piece and he loves it even more if you’re proud of yourself

luca’s your #1 hype man at all times

curling your hair? “ouu, that one’s pretty, you’re good at that”

doing a project for a class? “i like how you separated it, n’ it looks cute, the design. you’re so smart, baby”

literally just scrolling on your phone? “you look like a goddess,”

and he has absolutely no shame in saying these things anytime anywhere where, as you’re much more conservative

“you’re so beautiful, baby” and he’ll kiss you on the cheek and squeeze where he has his arm around you

and you’re just blushing with your eyes wide open and your shoulders shrugging inward while you hide away in yourself “there are people around, luca,”

but he means well and sometimes the thoughts just pop into his head and he’s gotta say them, obviously, cause he wants you to know how highly the thinks of you

his smile always makes you weak

cause he smiles with his whole face and he looks adorable

if anyone else smiled at you like he did, though, you’d be audibly revolted

for example, if luca wants a favour and he just smiles at you all pretty and runs his fingers through your hair

on the other hand, you’ve had adam bribe you with food on many occasions

he asks you to come with him for adams draft day and mindlessly tells you that his parents are excited to meet you

you horrified cause he’s been talking to his parents about you and also adam wants you at one of the biggest events of his life??

you’re quiet for the rest of the day, not because you don’t want to but because you’re worried it’s not your place

luca thinks he’s scared you off and that maybe your time together has just been like a college fling even though that’s completely the opposite of how you both feel

he apologizes for springing it on you and for him moving too fast and freaking you

“i thought that we were serious though, so i-”and with that you’re flinching and staring at him with wide eyes

“shit, luca, no, we are serious. i just didn’t know if i should be at something that big for adam, we don’t talk much,” luca grins

“he calls you his sister in law when you’re not around. you’re coming,”

the next time you see adam you hug him for the first time and he’s like the human embodiment of an exclamation point

you ask a lot of questions. mostly logic questions and luca can hardly ever answer them

but he likes that you make him think about things like that and that the inside of your brain has so many facts that every once in a while they contradict themselves so strangely that you come up with some of the most ludicrous shit he’s ever heard

you like when he walks around shirtless

the first time he spent the night he helped you make breakfast the next morning in just a pair of shorts and you were.. distracted to say the least.

the first one of his teammates you really warm up to other than adam is rutger, and he rubs it in everyone’s face

“why rut?? out of all of us?!” you cannot for the life of you come up with an actual reason and they all think you’re lying and that luca knows something and he’s not telling

the incoming class of freshmen is kinda scared of you and they’re all endlessly confused when you’re at one of the houses one day and you just fall asleep on luca

“i’ve been telling you she’s harmless,” “you said she bit adam!” “out of love!”

even though some of them were a little confused with you at first, the whole team thinks you and luca are gross (ly adorable)

[meraki-yao]

Ok I got four asks in my inbox about the new Nick interview and I'm actually mad. I'm actually livid and exasperated because I've been getting and answering similar asks over and over again, and yet people still come to me with the same statement and the same conviction EVEN AFTER I POINTED OUT EVERY FUCKING FACT THAT CONTRADICTS IT.

Do you really need a 19-year-old to teach you reading comprehension and media literacy?

Ok, fine.

Statement One: Nick doesn't appreciate RWRB, he's brushing it aside, which is why it wasn't mentioned in the New York Times

One: Editorials don't always portray the actual thoughts or agenda of the interviewee.

Unlike a video interview or a podcast interview where we can hear the whole conversation directly from Nick with his voice, and even if there are cuts and edits we can pick it up via visual or audio continuity, in a written editorial the only thing we can rely on is the writer's words, or in other words, the writer's paraphrase or quotation of what Nick said to him. This gives much bigger room for any changes or manipulation in content because we have nothing else to reference.

It is clear that in the past three editorials, the writer or the magazine itself has deliberately demeaning and devaluing RWRB. In NY Magazine, it was only mentioned in one line and degraded to "a queer take on a common straight trope" (see the choice of word "president's daughter"), with the implication being at its core, it's a straight story/ reliant on past straight stories to be interesting; Hunger Magazine calls it fujoshi-pleasing (fujoshi: Japanese slang, denoting how a straight woman who enjoys fictional gay content is "rotten", too ruined to be married, an insult to both the audience/fans and the movie itself ); and this time New York Magazine didn't even mention RWRB, when let's be honest, it's Nick's biggest breakout role.

"Once Is Chance, Twice is Coincidence, Third Time's A Pattern" this is deliberate. I can't say what the agenda is, my guess is some extent of latent homophobia, but it's clear that this is a fucking pattern. In fact, besides the hidden agenda of devaluing RWRB, these editorials show another hidden agenda, but that's something for a later day. PM me id you want to now, I won't discuss that one on my public platform yet.

Again, there is so much more room for twisting and hiding words in a written editorial. In all the video interviews Nick did, especially in the UK, when has he ever avoided a question about RWRB? When has he ever not shown gratitude towards the project?

Two: In all video evidence that can't be manipulated, that clearly shows Nick's own thoughts which not influenced by any other party, he has made it clear that he adores RWRB.

Why else would he sign books during the M&G London premiere, going as far as to stay behind after the event just to sign books? Same with the LA M&G premiere and TIOY premiere: those were promotions for other projects, he had a valid reason to refuse to sign the RWRB books and posters, but he didn't, always signing with a big smile on his face, even playfully signing on Taylor's face. He said it himself in his Instagram post, and I quote: "The love that Henry has received has been one of the most heartwarming things to watch. It's been difficult to not talk about him. So thank you for seeing him for all he is. He was a joy to bring to life." There's your proof, directly from the man himself.

Statement Two: Nick's not interested in doing a sequel, he said he's done playing princes and he's done playing romantic leads

One: "Done playing princes" doesn't mean literally done playing princes, it means he wants to try more roles and not be stuck with only being known as the "prince" guy. (even though he's literally a prince lol)

Plus, he said that after Robert, but then Henry came along and he was attracted to Henry as a character with his scared but loving heart. He doesn't just view Henry as a prince, he views Henry as a complex, delicate person who so happens to be a prince. Him saying he's done playing princes means in the future, he doesn't really want another royal on his filmography, but this doesn't mean he doesn't want to continue Henry's story. With the given context, namely asking him about future projects he wants to take up, "he's done playing princes" and "he doesn't want to play Henry anymore" are not mutually inclusive.

Two: "Done playing romantic leads" means he wants to try new things and take up new projects that aren't romance films.

This doesn't include the continuation of already established characters i.e. sequels, this just means if he were to take up brand new projects, he wants to try something else. Sequels are inherently different from new projects because again, sequels are based on already established characters.

Three: He said several times ON VIDEO that he'd be in for a sequel

In this one, when asked if he'd be up for a sequel, he said, and I quote "Look, I think with any opportunity of doing a sequel, I think, you know, the script has to be right. But obviously, it was so lovely to see how many people it touched and having that resonance is incredibly important to me, so, yeah. Of course."

In this one, when asked if they have had conservation on a potential sequel, he said, and again I quote: "Yeah, I mean definitely had conversations. I think we're all on the same page in the sense that, you know, the script needs to be right, and sort of all the different components need to be right because we made something that has such a positive effect and I think the last thing you'd wanna do is ruin that or take that in a way, so, you know, the conversations are definitely being had."

And there are more videos from red carpet interviews that I can't be bothered to find right now but he says more or less the same thing.

(look I even transcribed it)

Not only is he on board with a sequel, he's also being careful about it to make sure once they do get to making it, it's something good. He's on board, and he values it. And again, that's directly from him.

We have a phrase in Chinese: 斷章取義, meaning "breaking off a small part of an article and deriving the meaning from that single part" That's what so many of you, in particular, the people who come to my inbox with the sentiments of the above-mentioned statement are doing. Please, use critical thinking and look at the whole picture. Stop making judgments from the surface of one source.

Tagging my friends @alittlefrenchtree and @myteavsricochet because it looks like they've been getting the same things I got

[violeteclipseboaty]

So I recently went to go watch KOTPOTA again. I wanted to share my thoughts overall on the film, I couldn't properly do it before because I had forgotten some stuff lol

The pacing: at first watch I though it was kinda weird but watching it again I realized it pretty much went straight to the point, if anything I wanted MORE but you know the movie would've been too long but I wouldn't have minded either way. I mean, I've watched the Avatar and Harry Potter movies, so yeah I could've handled that lol

I really like the environment they set up with the eagle clan; their culture, their tradition with the eggs, and their bond with the eagles. I hope we get to see more details in the next movie.

The cinematography was amazing, they really nailed it. The sceneries were outstanding. A lot of that stuff reminded me back to Rise, back when it was filled with human life, now sadly the structures are abandoned and overtaken by nature but look pretty either way. The action scenes omg were so engaging and just done so well.

Let's talk about the main characters:

Noa: Great character. He's curious, smart, brave, and compassionate. I know a lot of people wanted him to be Caesar's descendant but i didnt really care about that. I'm excited where his next journey will take us if they have the chance to make a sequel (please 🙏) I'm pretty sure at the end of the film, Noa now has a new view of the world he lives in and now questioning his entire existence lol

Raka: loved him!! I really like how he truly understood what Caesar stood for. I did notice some things he believed were wrong lol but he's got the spirit and would lighten up the mood after what happened with Noa's clan. He's got a good heart, he sacrificed himself for Mae despite knowing her for a very short amount of time after all. Also I refuse to believe he's dead so there's that also and I hope he comes back to guide both Mae and Noa onto the path for the coexistence of both apes and humans.

Soona: I really wish we could've gotten more scenes with her, but I really like her. She's brave, sweet, and a ride or die for both Noa and Anaya. I hope we get to see her more in the next film

Anaya: yall already know cause I made a seperate post lol but loved him and I wish we had more scenes with him as well! I felt so bad for him when we see him again with Proximus, he's been through enough!

Proximus: he was a great villian and I did not like him, which is good! Not all villians need a sad backstory, this dude was clearly only hungry for power. He was twisting Caesar's words, enslaving other apes, killing humans, and wanted access to technology capable of bringing destruction and chaos. He's smart and knows how to be resourceful. I find it funny that he was talking smack about humans yet his way of thinking and actions are similar to the bad side of humanity. I only wish we could've gotten more scenes with him; he was underused and I thought he would have a much bigger role based on the trailers, but I enjoyed his presence overall.

Mae: I've already made a seperate post about her character and I still sorta feel the same way about her. Rewatching it again, I got to sympathize more with her situation. She's a survivor who clearly grew up and was taught misinformation about apes, but after meeting Raka and bonding with Noa; i truly believe she'll come around and change her mind. I believe in her, and I hope we get to see her again and get more of her backstory to understand her better.

The movie was great. The plot, visuals, and acting were so well done. I took about 5 years for them to work on this, and it SHOWS. Their dedication shows that when enough time is given; movies that involve CGI can be done properly. I'm sick of projects being crunched and the visuals ending up looking like 💩 because the teams/artists aren't appreciated enough. I definitely recommend watching at least twice, and I pray for a sequel.

[romancingromanoff]

Secrets & Sketches

Andromache the Scythian x f!reader

I decided to create a series of loosely related one shots for Andromache (my beloved). Here’s part 1 and part 2

Summary: You were always staring at her, not knowing she was staring back.

TW: None?

Word count: +5,100

Author's Note: Hi y'all. Here's some slightly domestic fluff before the action happens and the stakes skyrocket through the roof.

Despite never having lived with four strangers before, it turned out that your new situation offered you far more privacy than you had ever experienced while living with your mother.

The woman had a compulsive need to control every aspect of your life, from what you wore to what you ate. You were barely even safe in the bathroom. The years had taught you to lie with your words and carefully crafted smiles. Knowing what she wanted to hear from you and how you could appease her temper was like mastering a second language. Your skills in the craft became more and more refined throughout the years and your confidence ultimately grew. But you underestimated your mother and made the greatest mistake of them all.

“I know you’re lying to me! What are you trying to hide from me, you ungrateful whore?”

A picture frame nearly collided with your head, chipping the door frame instead of scratching your face. The glass shattered on the floor and your body jumped twice, once at the sound and another time when your eyes settled on the damage and found that your favorite childhood photo with your grandmother was destroyed. 

“Whatever you did, I will find out! You cannot lie to me, I am your mother!”

It was one afternoon you had wanted all to yourself to go see the movie Roman Holiday after school. The charismatic Audrey Hepburn, riding on a Vespa with the largest smile you had ever seen, caused strange feelings to stir in your stomach when you had first watched the trailer. She was a princess masquerading as a commoner in order to freely experience the wonders of the Eternal City. Oh, how you envied her character. Your mother, however, could only focus on how short her hair was. The shortest your hair had ever been was when you were a fresh newborn. Once it grew past your upper back, you were never allowed to cut it, despite all the other girls you knew being able to short styles. 

“How disappointing.” She scoffed when a clip of her getting her haircut played. “Such a beautiful young woman and she wants to make herself look like a man? I really don’t understand your generation, you’re all confused.”

When you arrived home late that evening, she refused to believe the lie you had produced about giving some tutoring lessons after school. It was only two days later that she found the proof she wanted. While snooping through your journal she came across the movie ticket you had pasted next to your latest entry. She burned the entire thing as only one portion of your punishment.

How your mother could predict your actions, anticipate your every move, and see through every single one of your lies you did not know. It was like she knew you and how your mind functioned but could never truly understand how suffocated you felt by the twisted ways she expressed her “love” for you. She was your mother, the closest kin you had left after your grandmother’s passing and the woman that had known you for your entire existence. The fact that she birthed you was one she’d never let you forget, yet you knew she would spend your entire life trying to mold you into something you weren’t if she could. If she could never accept you then how could anybody else?

Then you met Andy, who always seemed to be in tune with whatever you were thinking. Hell, she could practically guess your thoughts word for word without even really trying, yet not once did it ever feel like she was violating your mind as your mother had. You were almost completely certain that she was fully aware of the times when you were drawing her. It was impossible not to see the art in her movements. She’d be doing something mundane yet slightly active such as washing the dishes and you’d pull your sketchbook out. The moment you put pencil to paper she would slow down ever-so-slightly. A plate that needed maybe two wipes suddenly took four or more to clean. She must have known what she was doing to you, softly smirking as she folded laundry 

But did she know what it was doing to you? How intensely you felt about her and as more than just an art subject, more than someone you merely admired. Pages full of sketches, varying in detail and design, became dedicated to capturing the alluring domestic side of the ancient warrior. Every angle, every shadow was carefully reconstructed (to the best of your ability anyway) as if to preserve each moment and time so that your eyes may never forget what she looked like chopping onions on a rainy Tuesday evening. A brief moment that might be incredibly insignificant for a being that has walked the earth for thousands of years, but one that was still so precious to you. The time you spent together, even the moments everyone else might consider to be dull, were filled with color all because of her.

Why she allowed you to draw her so frequently was something you couldn’t quite figure out. This rather untraditional dance the two of you engaged in was never spoken about in words. There was no doubt that Andy would have said something much earlier had she been uncomfortable being drawn by you. A part of you enjoyed entertaining the idea that, perhaps in some small way, Andy might actually return your feelings. But at the same time, you didn’t want to be wrong and come off as an artistic creep trying to invade her privacy.

The good thing was you never had to worry about any of the others looking through your sketchbook. The one time Joe had asked if he could take a peek it hadn’t even crossed your mind that you could have said ‘no’ to him. But the smallest bit of hesitance that he had seen in your eyes as you prepared to hand over your most personal and sacred treasure immediately stopped him.

“Y/N, you don’t actually have to show me anything if you don’t want to. I was merely curious but no part of me would be offended if you want to keep your art to yourself. I will always respect your privacy first.”

His words were almost foreign to you, like ones you had only ever read on pages and later discovered were pronounced completely differently when you finally heard them spoken out loud. Still, you knew Joe meant everything he said. Though all of your new companions were certainly capable of it, none of them had ever once tried to deceive you or keep you hidden from the truth. Previously living with a pathological liar had taught you all the signs you needed to know and not once had you found a single one since joining the old guard.

It was a bit startling how safe you already felt with these few strangers you had only met a few short weeks ago. You could talk to all of them about (almost) anything, although you did worry that your endless amount of questions might annoy any one of the unnaturally older beings. Sometimes you nearly cringed at the thought of how ignorant and stupid you must have appeared in their eyes. It mostly motivated you to contribute where you could. Cooking and cleaning were not tasks you necessarily enjoyed, but it felt nice to make some type of contribution to the team. Still, you longed to prove yourself as something more, to help save lives and make Andy, Booker, Joe, and Nico proud. And maybe, just maybe, if you became worthy enough of someone like your rescuer, she might look at you differently.

┊ ┊┊ 

It was nearing morning hours and your endless thoughts hadn’t allowed you to sleep yet. There was a buzzing in your body, making it impossible to fully relax, even though you knew you had a busy day of training ahead of you and you needed the rest. You tried to conjure up the comforting sound of Andy’s steady heartbeat as you imagined her lying next to you, only to grow even more anxious when you began feeling guilty for indulging in such thoughts. 

Did she even like women the way you did? You certainly had your suspicions and noticed the way her heart seemed to break anytime there was a mention of Quynh. The necklace that never left her neck also appeared to hold a great amount of pain and significance to her. But even if you were right, Andy had never brought up any details regarding her love life and you were determined to respect that undiscussed boundary. The tossing and turning was just an unfortunate side effect that eventually had you cave in and get up to grab a drink from the kitchen. 

“Can’t sleep?” The voice of the very person you had been thinking of came from behind you as soon as you had turned on a small lamp. You let out a nervous laugh and kept a steady hand on your chest when you caught her smiling directly at you. It made you take some extra time while getting your glass of water so that your heartbeat had a chance to settle.

Andy sat at the bar sipping on a mug of coffee. Even with the light being so dim, you didn’t need it to tell her beverage was completely black. 

“I still don’t know how you’re able to drink that. Every time I try it it’s like trying to swallow hot liquid dirt.”

“Really?” The Scythian chuckled and you prayed the darkness would hide your melted expression. “That’s surprising considering how you drown yours in milk and sugar.”

“Hey, we can’t all be as tough as you.” 

“No one said you had to be. No one said you weren’t already.” You supposed you were tough in the context of being able to override death itself, but besides that, it wasn’t a character trait you ever considered yourself to have. Even the immortality thing was basically a fluke. 

The dark haired woman gestured for you to sit down and you awkwardly lowered yourself into the chair across from her. Your glass of water looked silly standing next to her more refined drink. “Yeah, that’s me. I got tough hands covered in paper cuts and callouses from drawing.”

“Art is tough for a lot of people. It’s tough for me. I could never quite get the emotional vulnerability part down and I feel like all the best art pulls from that. I would say you could probably teach me a thing or two about drawing but you have something more inborn than that. It can’t be taught.”

“But you’ve never seen my work?” Had she? You didn’t think she’d go through your things without your permission but there was definiteness in her tone that told you her words were true. 

“No,” she shrugged. Nothing in her seemed to waver. “I don’t need to. There’s this look you get in your eyes when you’re completely focused on drawing that seems to transport you to this different world. I always wonder where you go but don’t want to tear you away when you’re clearly inspired.”

You had been staring at her for so long believing that she was merely tolerating your strange behavior. You assumed she simply felt unbothered. The idea that she might have been secretly staring back never once crossed your mind. 

“You… You watch me?” A beat passed and your brain short circuited, unsure of what kind of answer you even hoped to hear. If she did then was it with the same unspoken desire you held in your heart that you could be worthy of her one day? No, it had to be something far from that. Your awkward, uncoordinated behavior could only be considered entertaining at best if Andy didn’t find you pitiable. You imagined it was like watching your neighbor’s beagle after they arrived home from a medical procedure at the vet. The poor thing was so loopy yet unaware that he couldn’t walk in a straight line. Every few steps he took he’d also crumble to the floor before eagerly trying to get back up and making another attempt with the same results. That’s what she must see whenever she saw you trip over your own feet. Or how silly you looked the other day when Booker tried to show you how to hold a pistol and you shook so hard that it fumbled out of your hands.

Even with all the time in the world, it was a struggle to see yourself ever truly earning your place among the rest of the guard one day. You not only lacked combat experience but had been thoroughly sheltered from the world by your mother. She hadn’t allowed you to participate in any sports, not even the more feminine ones like dance or golf. The result was barely being able to do a push-up and having the wind knocked out of your lungs after only a brief jog. 

The others had started you off with some basic self defense techniques, which caused you to wake up with sore muscles you hadn’t even known existed. Everyone was extremely patient with you, stressing the importance of slowly building up your strength and reminding you that there was no rush to suddenly reach their skill level when they’d been fighting for longer than some of the strongest empires had lasted. But then you’d watch them training together or listen to one of them recount several of the missions they completed while you were stuck waiting in the safe house. They were out there saving lives, as well as literally sacrificing their own, while you could only hope to one day do the same. 

In the back of your head you could hear your mother berating you for having such ridiculous dreams. If she could see you struggling to learn a pull up she would certainly laugh at your miserable attempts. But Andy didn’t look at you like you were “perfectly pathetic” as your mother often described. No, she seemed to stare at you softly, which made you feel like you were the only person she was thinking about. 

“I find you interesting. More specifically, it’s been a pleasure to watch you grow into yourself these past few weeks. You look much more relaxed.”

You were fairly relaxed, aside from the fact that your heart was currently threatening to jump out of your chest. Or if physicists could somehow harness its energy then it could power the entire world. She had just admitted to finding you interesting and you were supposed to answer back in words. You took a painfully slow drink.

“Well, it has been nice being able to make my own decisions and not have someone constantly looking over my shoulder.” You think back to an instance where you were recently baking a lemon glaze cake for the team and some icing stuck to your fingers. Immediately, you went to wash your hands as your mother would have insisted upon when it occurred to you that she no longer had control over you. Licking your fingers after that had never felt so satisfying. “Even the little choices I’m able to make now are kind of exciting. Is that strange to say?”

“Not at all.” Andy shook her head. “It’s a beautiful thing, seeing how far you’ve come in such a short amount of time. Not to mention how glad I am that you feel safe enough around us to be yourself.”

A pang of guilt ran through you. What must she think of you if you were keeping cryptic drawings of her a secret? “I really do, which is why I don’t want you to believe I’m trying to hide things from you! Not forever, at least. I trust you, and perhaps it’s more than I’ve ever trusted anyone else. But with my drawings… I suppose it’s rather complicated and I’ve never willingly shown them to anyone before. They’re nothing inappropriate, though! I would never do anything like that.”

Before you could completely melt into a puddle of despair, Andy reached for your forearm, anchoring the two of you together while helping to calm you down. Her hand was warmed from holding her hot mug.

“Hey, it’s alright, I trust you too. You don’t need to explain yourself to me. I’m flattered about the drawings and it’s nothing to be embarrassed about. I can wait until you’re ready to show them to me when you feel comfortable doing so.”

It was completely vexatious how patient Andy could be with you, or how she always seemed to know the right thing to say to make you feel better. She possessed the ability to soothe the fears you understood intimately along with the others which you had tried to suppress and nearly forgotten about. You simply weren’t used to being treated in such a way. 

“How are you so patient with me all the time?” Your question came off more irritated than you intended, making you cringe inwardly. You weren’t even sure what you were really asking about.

In the few moments it took Andy to start processing the question, your thoughts finally began to come together and spill out all at once.

“I’m deeply appreciative of how understanding you’ve been, don’t get me wrong, but when I imagine myself in your position, it must be frustrating. You do so much for me, all four of you do, but you especially. I’m always needing your help with countless things even though I have nothing of use to offer in return. You’re all incredibly worldly people, capable of doing more than I ever have even before your first deaths. I’ve been kept sheltered my entire life and probably wouldn’t last a day on my own. Having me join the team probably feels a lot more like babysitting than anything else, yet you never complain about it.”

Even though you knew it wasn’t in her nature, sometimes you wished she would allow herself to be angry with you. Or if she even expressed the slightest bit of irritation then that might make you feel better somehow. You waited for Andy to tell you that you sounded ridiculous, or to make another comment about your tendency to overthink things. Nothing like that ever came.

In one swift, breathtaking movement, her hand carefully tilted your chin up towards her face so that you were caught in her stare. The skin of her thumb was rough and her green-blue eyes bore into your own, tender yet determined as they searched for something deep in your soul. Though her touch was completely innocent, it was also intensely intimate from your perspective at least. You wanted to bear your entire being to her, consciously preparing your mind and body to take in whatever words she was about to say.

“Y/N, listen to me. There is nothing you owe me. Relationships aren’t transactional and I enjoy being able to help you. You also didn’t choose this life and I can’t hold what you don’t know against you. I won’t lie and say patience comes to me easily. Truthfully, when you get to my age everything is frustrating. I’ve seen… far too much in my life aside from any type of explanation for it all and it has made me bitter. But you don’t deserve any of that and I don’t want to be that type of person anymore. I don’t ever want to turn my back on people I care about again.”

Her eyes glossed over with the hue of a haunting memory, something from her past clearly bothering her. She let go of you in the crest of the emotion and you nearly whimpered when you lost her touch, but found the rare opportunity to offer Andy the comfort she needed. 

“I may not know much in the grand scheme of things, but I know you’re not bitter. Truly bitter people try to tear down everyone around them because there’s nothing misery loves more than company. You’re nothing like my mother, she wanted to control me and keep me trapped in a life where I could never have my own happiness. You set me free. Anyway, it would be hard to live as long as you have, see the things that you’ve seen, and not become discouraged with all of the wickedness that has happened throughout history. What matters is that you’ve continued to fight for others that wouldn’t normally stand a chance on their own. If you were actually as bitter as you think, you could turn your back on everyone without a single care in the world. I see how much you care for others, Andy. Bitter people only care about themselves and I don’t see how you can believe you’re one of them.”

The fact that you were so young was partially why Andy felt the need to hold herself back and take things slow with you. Although your life would never be normal, she wanted to give you the chance to choose your own path and chase whatever dreams you fancied. Right now, it was crucial to prepare you for the world and to teach you how to keep your shared secret safe. But she knew you’d want to adventure out on your own at some point, and that you’d probably want to experiment with other partners closer to your age. Andy was aware of the baggage she carried, as well as the fact that the nature of your relationship meant she held a type of influence over you. She would never allow herself to take advantage of you like that.

But one thing she couldn’t let you do was downplay yourself, not when your words touched her in ways she hadn’t felt in thousands of years.

“Do you really believe you’re of no use at all and have nothing to offer? Y/N, I’ve traveled to every corner of the world and met the wisest individuals that still led directionless and unfulfilled lives. They thought of themselves too highly, pushed others away, and in the end their knowledge meant nothing when they were unable to make meaningful connections. You have all the time you need to perfect your knowledge and learn every skill that exists or will develop in the future.” 

Your head tilted in perplexity. 

“What? You think we had phones or electricity back when I was growing up? I didn’t learn how to drive a car until late last century. It was really like the blind leading the blind in those early days.”

Imagining a Victorian era Andy accidentally crashing a motorized carriage or angrily shaking her fist at experimental drivers from atop of her horse was certainly entertaining. You wondered if the two of you would ever share a similar experience together.

Temporarily distracted by your smile, Andy nearly forgot the importance of the message she was trying to convey to you. 

“Y/N, you’re right that you’ve never really been given the chance to grow before all of this. None of that was your fault. The wonderful thing now is that you’re on your way to becoming smarter, like anybody else can when given the right tools. What you already have, your emotional strength and intelligence, is far more rare and valuable in my eyes. You teach me to look at things from a different perspective even when I’ve felt stuck in my ways for hundreds of years. Don’t overlook how much of an impact you can make or how much we all appreciate you.”

“Andy… I… Thank you.” You try not to cry, though you know she wouldn’t judge you if you did. Viewing your emotions as a strength is something that you never considered before. They were always a weakness back when you experienced nothing but misery, and now everything couldn’t be more different. Your new life was full of evenings spent getting tipsy and laughing at the stories your friends told you of places and times that sounded unreal. It was wanting the taste of more, the promise of the adventures that lay before you and the people you would get to share them with. It was a life you could hardly believe was real and you got to spend every single day with a woman that made your heart race with a single smile. Even if she never felt the same way about you, there was no chance that you’d trade your time with Andy for anything or anyone else. “Thank you for everything. I’m glad I get to experience all of this with you.”

She almost let her resolve crumble upon hearing your words. The grip around her drink tightened, heating up her flesh to a tender sting but she persevered through it. She knew that if she touched you again then it would all be over. There would be no way she could let go.

“As exciting as everything can be, I can’t help but feel nervous for what’s to come. I worry that no matter how hard I train I won’t be prepared. No matter how much I learn, there is bound to be something I overlook.”

How right you were.

“One thing I can tell you is that there are some things you’re never ready for, even if you spend centuries preparing. People, history, and almost everything I’ve encountered follow some type of pattern maybe 99% of the time. But all it takes is that 1% chance of randomness to make life unpredictable. Even the most meticulous of plans can end up going sideways. At the end of the day, I always ask myself why I’m here or why certain things happen and I’ve never been very close to an answer. There are questions I’ve carried with me for even longer than I can remember.”

It would have been quite terrifying to hear those words from anyone else besides Andy. If she still struggled to figure things out then you were practically cursed to be clueless for the rest of your existence. Although strangely enough, it was actually comforting to hear that she shared a similar sense of existential questioning. Both of you were human even if your lifespans or biology no longer were. 

“Okay, but you must have a guess for when we’ll see flying cars at least. Or do you believe people will really be able to walk on Mars one day?”

A smooth attempt to cover up her broadening smile by lifting her coffee up to her mouth might have gone unnoticed if you hadn’t been so enamored by each one of Andy’s actions. She had a harder time hiding her eyes, which playfully rolled at your question. 

“Sure, I suppose it’s possible. Hey, maybe you’ll be the first one and you can tell us all about it.”

“While the prospect of accomplishing something you’ve never done is intriguing, I wouldn’t want to do it without you.”

The words left your mouth, leaving only your pair of eyes holding hers throughout a deep silence. It wasn’t often that Andy looked like she was at a loss for words but this was definitely one of those times.

Quickly, you tried to cover up your confession with a stupid excuse. “I mean if there really are man-eating martians up there they’ll want to eat you first. You have way more muscle.”

“Right,” Andy laughed in agreement. “I guess that’s all I’m good for besides being a model for your artwork. Are you fast enough to draw me up there in time before I get turned into alien food?”

“Maybe.” You blushed and tried to go for Andy’s move to cover your face with your cup, only to realize that it was practically useless when it was made of glass. 

“I, uh, really wanted to get some sleep tonight before waking up for early training but I guess I’m not doing a very good job at that.”

“Sleep in, you deserve the break. You’ve been pushing yourself really hard and should get to sleep in for once. There’s no need to overexert yourself.”

“Wait, aren’t you leaving for your mission around sunrise?” Andy was planning to look for some intel in the city and you knew she might be gone for up to a few days. “Wake me up before you go so I can say goodbye.”

For a moment, all the Scythian can do is try to memorize the look on your face, wishing that she could permanently sketch the vision on paper like you could. You gazed up at her with such innocence and devotion in your eyes, as if she was simply running to get milk from the grocery store the next morning. The team had actually glossed over the more important details about Andy’s assignment and what it would entail. It wasn’t that you were unaware of Andy’s brutal past and countless killings, but you still had yet to witness such violence. She couldn’t help but worry that witnessing that side of her would not only change how you saw her, but also influence your own self perception when the time came to take another life yourself. It was painful to imagine the countless amount of years you might spend plagued by inner turmoil, hating the person you would become even if it was inevitable. She’d die in a million more excruciating ways if it would shield you from such a curse.

“Andy, are you alright?” Your voice of concern brought her back to the present. There was a slight look of worry between your furrowed eyebrows that she wished to smooth out herself, but she practiced self restraint. 

“Sorry, I guess I’m a little tired too. If you want me to wake you before I leave then I will.”

With a satisfied smile on your face, you nodded and rose from your seat. The urge to ask Andy if she might join you tugged at your heart. You always slept more soundly when it was in her arms. Your nightmares were much more infrequent by now and it had been some time since you had been able to fall asleep while breathing in her scent, snuggling deep into her chest. The temptation to voice your request was almost impossible to resist, save for the fear of jeopardizing your friendship and making her uncomfortable by revealing your feelings. 

Eventually, you found yourself back in bed alone and replaying your conversation. One specific realization you couldn’t get over was that Andy had undoubtedly expressed some type of interest in the art you made of her. Sure, it’s possible that it might have been in a completely platonic sense, but you held onto the fantasy of it meaning something more and decided you’d keep it to yourself, for now.

[stillchuunya]

Rite Here Rite Now thoughts and reactions (spoilers below)

The performance:

-> Twenties live?? The dancers? loved them! I waited to hear Twenties Live like crazy! I do wish we could hear Swiss louder with the whispers...

-> I need that acoustic rendition of If You hHave Ghosts... the ghoulettes were amazing

-> I refuse to believe that Tutti Frutti nailed that one jump towards the end of the performance, what the heck?!

-> The searchlights in the Watcher in the Sky!

-> the use of lights to accentuate Satan's names! YES! It felt so right, it felt so cool, I loved that! Satanic imagery whenever his name was mentioned? YESSS They play fewer and fewer songs from the early albums so I wish they make some new songs that just go LU-CI-FEEER

-> The ghouls looked so good! But there was so little of Swiss :( I wanted to see him go crazy and move those hips. I caught a glimpse of him once or twice but I believe they never focused on him for long enough to let him shine. It's a pity because I love watching him!

-> I thought there would be a long scene of us getting ciriced but it was just a few moments? still cool, just a bit short

-> People are saying that the skeletons were actually people with body paint, and I fully believed that it was a body suit :0 I noticed their breasts looked good but??? how did I miss this (I do have an eyesight problem but I thought it wasn't that bad haha)

The rest:

-> the sass between Nihil and Seestor was so good? Loved seeing their interactions

-> They EMBRACED the 'Scooby Doom', the 'Scooby Doo Chase Music' allegations, the MOAC animation was surreal as heck. Tobias saw our jokes and said 'hold my communion wine and watch this'

-> We got an exclusive footage of a Papa Sock, do not confuse with the DeFroque Soq. We saw the Obscene Annointed Foot.

-> Papa literally dissociates backstage :')

-> The twins? Seestor having twins?? There were two kiddos frollicking on a field loool and I always thought that Copia felt like he had a sibling or a twin but I thought it was just a crack theory!

-> I want Ashley's job

-> The twins played by Toblerone's kids are dead apparently and I doubt it will ever be explained xD

-> There was only one fart joke and I anticipated like 3 at least

->I remember seeing this meme

and let me tell you it's 100% true he does not, it's just for comedic effect and I love it, people got high fives from him and I was so jealous

-> the balloon part was so confusing and funny and the way he was actually faceplanted on the floor the whole time broke me

-> I made a joke about how maybe they'll get rid of Seestor due to all the issues they had with her actresses but there she is, transparent and glowing. they can't explain further changes with plastic surgery anymore lol

-> Copia in a position of actual power? HUH

-> He has his Cardinal makeup back!! We went to the movie wearing this exact pattern and we were so happy to see it on screen <3 And his whole new outfit is lit, I am forever in love with his Cardinal Era clothes so this one was a Treat

-> Copia was babied so much in this movie and it was just what I needed for my soul, do not @ me

-> The pentagram below Nihil and Seestor gives me hope for a certain theory the fandom likes a lot?? why was it there

-> New song good!!!

-> also, Nihil's speech seems to be a homage to all the dead performers we know and love, especially the ones Tobias looks up to and gets inspiration from and I could feel his sadness in that speech, ok. I think he wishes to be able to entertain people after his own death just like them, he wants people to play Ghost in 50 years when he's most likely dead and feel their taints tickled. I am tearing up. Life is scary and sad but I have ghosts, right?

Overall it was a very sweet and gentle way to ease the fandom into the next stage and a new Papa, which we have been opposing vehemently for the past year or so. Tobias is a softie and knows his fandom better than I expected, tbh.

[leucrotta]

Werewolf Watch #1

First of all, Happy New Year, and welcome to the first installment of Werewolf Watch! (Thanks to @7outerelements for the name/tag suggestion.) I’ve taken all the films on my radar and made a numbered list, then used a generator to give me a random one. Today’s werewolf movie is…

SCREAM OF THE WOLF (1974)

There isn’t much information out there about 1974’s Scream of the Wolf. It was a made-for-TV movie, apparently based on a short story by writer David Case, and the screenplay was penned by one of my favorite authors, Richard Matheson. And… that’s about it! No charming production anecdotes, no fun trivia, just: here it is. Doesn’t bode well, does it? Even Matheson’s involvement isn’t necessarily a good sign; while he did write some iconic Twilight Zone episodes and the classic novella I Am Legend, he also wrote Jaws 3-D, so there’s that. Going in, I really have no idea what to expect, but I’m kind of thinking it won’t be great.

The film’s premise follows a retired big game hunter as he returns for another hunt, this time tracking a rogue killer wolf. Or is it a wolf??? Only one way to find out…

(Please be aware that this review WILL contain spoilers!)

The Plot

We open on a neat transition, from some animal’s eyes in the darkness to headlights piercing the fog. An unfortunate man has found himself in the first five minutes of a horror movie, meaning he probably doesn’t have a long shelf-life.

Yeah. His car breaks down on a lonely road at night, and he’s forced to go looking for help. But instead he finds… Something! A snarling creature (that we naturally don’t see) chases him back to his car before smashing its way in and somehow bloodlessly mauling him to death.

Seemingly the entire police force soon arrives on scene, accompanied by some bizarre and funkadelic music. Even after the sheriff (it sounds like his name is Brian?) fetches his retired hunter friend (our protagonist, John,) no one can determine the identity of the killer beast. It’s almost as if its tracks, and its scent, have changed to avoid detection.

And thus we have the general setup for our werewolf story. Twice more we’re treated to hapless expendables wandering around in the dark, and twice more we don’t get to see the monster that so consistently removes their faces. In between these extremely tame death scenes, we see the confused John and his sheriff buddy (is his name Brian? I’m starting to doubt myself) scratching their heads. It’s the typical creature feature cycle: the beast kills, the investigators are stumped. Maybe eventually they’ll wise up and realize that there’s something Extra about this supposed “animal”, but not for most of the runtime. In this regard, Scream of the Wolf is fairly standard, and I prepared myself for another paint-by-numbers werewolf film. But luckily, the movie had a bit of an ace up its sleeve. And that ace’s name is Byron.

Byron is John’s longtime friend and fellow (non-retired) hunter, and he is absolutely unhinged.

That’s his face for most of the movie. Just that same, smarmy expression. Byron refuses to assist his ole buddy John, insisting he’s “too busy”, but that does the opposite of keeping him out of the story. At a chance meeting in a restaurant, Byron encounters what I can only describe as a 1970s caricature of a vegan, who asks him what he gets out of killing innocent, cute little animals. “I can’t tell you,” says Byron, “but I can show you”, eliciting this very goofy response:

I’m pretty well convinced that, had John not intervened, Byron would’ve happily chased this man around the restaurant with a steak knife. He kind of has a hard-on for killing and death, and he really, really wants everyone else to know about it. The actor here, Clint Walker, is an incredible delight.

He perfectly nails Byron’s thin (and ever-cracking) veneer of civility over a gaping maw of complete and utter insanity. From his speech to his gestures, you can just tell at a glance that this dude is always 0.5 seconds away from biting the nearest person, with or without provocation. And speaking of bites...

John’s love interest, Sandy, is convinced that Byron is the killer. (Probably because he continues to say incredibly psychotic things in her presence.) And not only that, he’s also... a werewolf! She cites an old story about he and John’s last hunt together, where Byron was bitten by an enormous wolf. Suspicious. As if to reinforce her fears, she becomes the next would-be victim, saved only by the timely (and confusing) arrival of the police, who scare off the beastly intruder. She repeats her suspicions to the sheriff (VERNON, his name is apparently Vernon) who decides to confront the hunter at home.

Naturally, Byron denies all of these claims, and continues to refuse to help. This time he’s a bit more honest about his motivations; he’s actually enjoying all of this chaos. The townspeople, he says, are more alive now than they’ve ever been. This is definitely a good and healthy thing, believe him. It is at this point that a new suspect is rather intrusively crammed into the narrative: Brant Grant, Byron’s servant (?). Who is… there.

The trouble in town soon escalates, as the sheriff is killed while staking out Byron’s place- wait no, that’s actually just a deputy. The lighting is very bad, okay? A townhall meeting is held. The funky music returns, briefly and inexplicably. John gives Byron one last chance to help, and therefore shirk the allegations of werewolfery. Byron refuses, and reveals just a little more of his thought process: if he helps out, it will make the hunt too easy. He’d rather let John do it himself, perhaps regaining that old thirst for (animal) murder that he once had. They arm wrestle over it. Why? No one knows. Brant Grant is just kind of there again. Despite John losing the arm wrestling match, Byron does eventually show up to assist, on what is to be the last night of the hunt. The two split up, foolishly disobeying D&D rules, and John hears a gunshot, followed by snarling. He runs to aid his old friend, but alas, he is too late! Byron has been attacked, and lies dead. Now John knows that Brant Grant is the killer, and he goes to Byron’s place to confront him- only to find… Byron?!?!

Yeah, Byron’s not dead. Turns out the body was Brant/Grant, which John would have known if he had bothered to turn it over or like, do any sort of investigating. But he didn’t, and now Byron has him at gunpoint. He at last explains his dastardly scheme, in which he manufactured the “werewolf” attacks using a wolf and/or dog that he trained to kill, and some fake footprints. He did it for the same reason he’s already revealed: he wanted John to once again be his peak hunting self, and he wanted the local populace to finally be “alive”.

In the film’s climax, Byron challenges John to one last hunt: in the forest, he will find two bullets. One for the dog, and one for Byron, who will be hunting him in turn. He gets a five minute head start, but it’s barely enough. John manages to dispatch the wolf and/or dog, but he’s wasted both bullets in the attempt. It’s time for a little mano a mano. Of course, as the arm wrestling scene proved, John isn’t as fit as he once was, and Byron is able to easily take him down. “You lose, John,” he says, triumphantly.

At which point John pulls out his SECRET GUN!!!

Turns out he planned this whole final night, knowing Byron would want to have a hunt-off, and baiting him into it. After all, he says, repeating the film’s Important Phrase: “the prey will always do the unexpected”. Defeated at his own game and not very happy about it, Byron turns to go. He knows John won’t be able to shoot an unarmed man in the back. He is sure and incorrect. John kills Byron, finally ending the murder spree, and thus the movie.

The Review

So! That sure was a wild ride, huh? In the end, Scream of the Wolf isn’t technically a werewolf movie at all, but that isn’t actually a bad thing. At the start, I had assumed a very by-the-book, possibly lackluster tale of werewolf hunting, only to be served something fairly decent and certainly different. The movie is competent, especially for a made-for-TV special. The acting (at least the two leads) is believable, and the characters (at least Byron) are interesting. The twist is very much Matheson’s, echoing his earlier works (including one of my favorite of his short stories) as well as other classics like The Hound of the Baskervilles. That’s not to say it’s without its issues.

While the end of the film is a solid “most dangerous game” type situation, it does end up being one (or two, or three) too many twists. Byron’s dead, so he can’t be the killer! Oh wait, actually Brant Grant is dead, and Byron is the killer! John’s sure to lose this climactic fight, but oh wait, he’s actually got the upper hand and planned this all along! The shoehorning in of Brant Grant as a suspect was also pretty obviously a red herring, and needed to come in much, much earlier. There were times when Byron’s obsession sort of waffled between intimidating and goofy. In terms of technical aspects, the film’s many, many night scenes were far too dark to make out anything happening, and the dialogue was at times difficult to understand.

I’m not sure whether the randomly funky soundtrack should count as a good thing or a bad thing, so we’ll just leave it as neutral.

Overall, I found myself pleasantly surprised by this not being a dumpster fire of a movie. It had a coherent plot, decent acting, consistent characters, and that nice twist ending. I can’t say it was great by any stretch of the imagination, but it was quite alright.

I’ve decided to give Scream of the Wolf (1974) a 6 out of 10.

Werewolf Effects

This is where I’d put my thoughts on the movie’s werewolf costume, makeup, or animatronics, as well as the transformation scene… IF I HAD ANY!!!

But seeing as how this movie didn’t have a real werewolf, there’s not much to say here. Does Byron count as the film’s werewolf? Let’s just put the image gallery from Rotten Tomatoes here because it made me laugh.

Werewolf Lore

Again, there isn’t much to say here on this particular film. Not much lore was described throughout; the “werewolf” came out at night, mauled people, and was thought to have been created by a wolf bite. All pretty in line with old lycanthropy tales, which didn’t typically mention moon phases. It was more common for a folklore werewolf to be created by a deal with the devil, but a wolf bite isn’t out of the question. Here's an interesting tidbit: in the famous werewolf case of the Beast of Gevaudan, it is theorized by some that the killings were actually committed by a human with a trained animal. Coincidence? Probably yes, but it's a fun comparison.

Final Thoughts

Would I recommend this movie? Sure, if you’ve got nothing better to watch. There are better films out there, certainly, and they aren’t hard to find. But hey, it’s short (about 1 hour 10 minutes), it’s free on tubi, and it’s not terrible, so there’s that. While it isn’t an instant classic, I am surprised to find that it has generally bad reviews, and that it was never popular. It at least deserves better than that.

Scream of the Wolf was remade in 2022, and that version is also on the watch list. Someday perhaps, we shall see if it’s any better.

And that's all for the first Werewolf Watch! If you have any suggestions or comments, feel free to leave them on the post or message me directly. Still working out the kinks here, but it's just for fun, so keep that in mind.

Thanks for reading!

[chaoticbooklesbian]

I hate my dad.

If you've been around these parts for any time at all, you probably know that already. He's a goddamn asshole who sucks shit.

There's also something wrong with him. Like, big, scary health issue type wrong. He won't go to the doctor about it, won't believe me or my mom when we tell him, but it's there.

It's there when one sentence, he's asking me about my knitting club at work, and after I reply, he thinks I'm talking about D&D. It's there when he says a string of words that have nothing to do with each other, then gets frustrated and refuses to elaborate when we don't know what he's talking about. It's there when he watches a movie "for the first time" twice and gives the same review, verbatim, both times. It's there when he falls asleep at the table, startles himself awake, and doesn't remember it happened when we ask if he's tired. It's there when he tilts his cereal bowl toward himself and opens and closes his mouth like he's taking bites when the spoon hasn't left the milk.

(That last one was especially disturbing to me for reasons I can't articulate. He was half asleep already, the milk seemed ready to spill all over him, there was still cereal on his tongue from the last bite he'd taken. I keep seeing it in my mind, over and over again. I can't eat when I remember it. I lost my appetite when it happened.)

It's there when he spills his drink twice in one meal and can't connect the dots to put the lid back on the bottle to keep it from spilling again. It's there when he does it again the next night, and the next, and the next. It's there when he spills my drink all over me at Christmas and apologizes more times in a row than over the entire rest of my life up till that point. It's there when he spills his drink on me at dinner one night and can only plop his napkin down on the puddle already absorbing into the tablecloth, leaving me to get the paper towels and wipe down the table underneath.

(That was just last night. I was so angry. He just sat there. I washed his dishes and took out the recycling and the trash just to have something productive to do that wouldn't land me on the news. Those are his chores to do and he'd left them so long they were overflowing.)

It's there when he eats sweets and sweets and sweets. It's there when he leaves popsicle sticks and wrappers all over the place in the middle of the night. It's there when he finishes off a quart of ice cream by himself over several nights and doesn't remember a single bite of it. It's there when he eats the cereal my mom got for me before I get a chance at it. It's there when he eats the ice cream he got for me before I get a chance at it. It's there when he eats the cookies he got for me before I get a chance at them.

(That drives me up the wall. I asked my mom to stop getting me that cereal after the fourth box he ate entirely on his own. I asked him to stop getting me ice cream after the third quart he polished off because I took too long to get to it, never mind that I was saving it. He forgot and got me more ice cream, then ate it.)

I try not to blame him too much for these lapses. I know they're the result of a health issue he can't control. I also know they're worse when he gets high, which he does nearly all the time. He sundowns most days, but especially when he's high. I try not to blame him, but a lifetime of blaming him makes it easy to do. I resent him already for the care he's going to require as whatever this is progresses. I've resented him my whole life for the care he was always going to need in his old age.

He's approaching 70.

He'll need care soon.

[krikeymate]

Till it's all over, I will know you

Jill Roberts knows the Carpenters. Everybody does. And she's met the girls more than a few times over the years, although rarely interacted with them. Kirby's parents used to babysit them after all, and Jill always preferred to be at Kirby's than at home where her mother would go on and on about her cousin, she-who-must-not-be-named. Eugh.

So, Jill knows Sam Carpenter, the devoted sister (and recent troublemaker), and she knows Tara Carpenter, the sweetest most adorable little girl in the world - thank you Kirby. (For the listeners at home, Jill Roberts is rolling her eyes). But she doesn't know them, and she had no intention of knowing them. But life doesn't really care for what you have planned sometimes.

Jill has a bad day, so she does what she always does when she has a bad day, she goes round to Kirby's. Only to find Kirby's not alone. Kirby's out back smoking with her pet project.

After a failed attempt to get Kirby to heel, Jill stomps back inside and throws herself onto the couch. It's not until afterwards that she realises the little sister is here too, curled up at the edge and looking morose, a discarded book beside her.

"Oh great, you're here too," Jill mutters sourly.

The girl lets out a quiet sorry. She doesn't move, arms wrapped around her legs and chin resting upon her knees, eyes staring at the blank television screen.

Now that she knows the girl is here, Jill finds herself feeling awkward. She doesn't know how to act around kids, and quite frankly she's not really in the mood, but she knows she's got to be nice to the girl or she'll never hear the end of it. Jill knows how to play nice; she's been doing it her whole life.

"Sooooo.... guess we've both been abandoned, huh?"

Silence is her only response.

Seriously? Jill's trying her best and the girl doesn't even have the decency to respond.

"Jeez kid, what's up with you."

Jill’s mostly uninterested, but she is bored and they're stuck here together for the foreseeable future – until their other halves remember they exist – so she nudges her with her elbow. Eventually the girl mumbles nothing under her breath.

The tone piques her interest. It's bitter. Angry. Familiar.

What’s this kid got to be furious at the world about? At least Jill has real reasons. I mean, so her dad walked out, big whoop. Do you see Jill with a father? No, he disappears back in ’96 after mom refuses to skip town ‘cause of all the murders. At least she got those years with hers. Mom’s a drunk? Join the club kid!

She huffs and spins the hefty yellow and black book between them around. So you want to be an actor?

Huh. Not really what she’d been expecting. Well, she’s not sure what she was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t that.

“This for school or something?” Jill questions before she can think twice. She picks up the book and flips through the pages.

It gets Tara’s attention. “No,” she murmurs quietly.

Jill watches her, brow twitching. She doesn’t remember the kid ever being so shy and subdued.

“You… want to be an actress then?”

Tara nods, and all Jill can think about is how ridiculous it sounds. But more importantly, it gives her something to talk about.

“I want to be an actress too.”

The kid’s eyes light up in an instant, arms leaning forward and body unwrapping itself. She finally comes to life.

Jill doesn’t care about the girl, but the way she triggered the change certainly stirs something within her. There’s that sense of power, of control, of knowing with just a few words you can change someone’s world. For the better, or for the worse.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I’m going to be big and famous, a movie star. I want everyone to know my name.”

She doesn’t know why she’s telling her this. There’s only one other person in the world who knows about Jill’s dream.

“That’s cool,” the girl says, sending her a small smile. “I bet you could do it! You’re super pretty and awesome and you look like a movie star!”

Jill smirks, brushing her hair behind her ear, pleased. “Thank you.”

“I just want to look after Sam… and my mom,” Tara says, smile fading. “Actors make a lot of money, right?”

Jill hums, filing the information away. “They can, if they’re good. I certainly intend to. I going to do better than my cousin in every way. Be more successful, more famous… more loved.”

"Who's your cousin?" Tara asks innocently, unaware of the minefield she's just stepped herself in.

Jill finds herself clenching her jaw. "Seriously? You don't know? Everybody knows," she scoffs. God she hates people.

But the girl just shakes her head, looking up at her, waiting.

Shit, she really doesn't know?

Jill ponders for a moment. She could just brush it off, say nobody important, but something inside her is curious. How could someone live in Woodsboro and not know about Jill's famous cousin?

"Sidney Prescott." It's hard to say her name with anything other than venom, but Jill thinks she manages it. A worthy act for a future star.

The girl blinks up at her, no recognition behind her eyes. "I don't know who that is," she mumbles, mostly to herself, Jill thinks.

Huh. Interesting.

Before Jill can question Tara, the snick of the sliding glass doors disrupts them, and a foul odour permeates the room. She rolls her eyes at the dopey grins the two losers wear as they stumble in.

"Well look who finally decides to show up," Jill sneers, leaning an arm over the couch. "Did you finally remember the child you abandoned or did you just run out of product like the degenerates you are."

Tara frowns at her, and for a moment Jill thinks she's going to interject, but the girl deflates and looks away. Jill's oddly disappointed.

Sam's frowning at her too, though it's not very intimidating given the way her eyes can't seem to focus. It's funny, it's not immediately obvious that the girls are sisters, until they emote. They have the same expression, the same tilt to their head, the same downward twitch to their lips.

"Jeez Roberts, take that stick out your ass why don't you. Tara's cool, aren't you Tar?"

God shut up Kirby. She's so irresponsible sometimes. What does she see in her?

Tara smiles up at Kirby with the fakest-

"See! She's all good."

You've got to be kidding me. That was convincing? Maybe the kid's got talent after all.

From the corner of her vision, Jill sees the way Sam’s eyes narrow.

“What were you doing?” She asks, clearly suspicious.

The audacity. Jill doesn’t know what exactly Samantha thinks she has to be suspicious about when all she was doing is what they should have been doing, and babysitting her little sister. And she’s about to tell Sam where she can shove her question when Tara answers for her.

“Jill was telling me about her cousin.”

Kirby has the unfortunate pleasure of knowing Jill, so the baffled look she sends her way is unfortunately warranted, and she knows Kirby’s going to be demanding answers later. How bothersome.

Sam, however, makes an incredibly speedy trip around the couch – given her condition – to kneel at Tara’s feet and grab at her shoulders.

Jill’s fascinated by the look in the teenager’s eyes, intense and dark. The strain and barely held-back panic in Sam’s voice only makes her more curious.

“What did she tell you?”

Despite the way her sister’s fingers dig into her shoulders with so much force they turn white, or the sharp way she speaks to her, Tara doesn’t seem to notice anything out of the ordinary. Well, she doesn’t react.

Jill’s always been observant, she prides herself on it. It’s how she stays on top of the social hierarchy. So it doesn’t escape her notice how Tara rests a hand on the back of Sam’s, how she stares back with soft eyes, how her words are spoken back in a sickly sweet tone, so innocuous it can’t be anything other than fake.

“Just that her cousin Sidney’s famous.”

It all feels so practised. And it works. Sam’s shoulders relax and she leans back on her heels.

Jill probably shouldn’t… but she just can’t help herself.

“I’m surprised she’s never heard of her, she might be the only person in Woodsboro who hasn’t. Why is that?”

Her innocent act doesn’t match up to Tara’s apparently, as Sam turns to scowl at Jill, a warning in her eyes and in her growl. “Tara’s eight. She doesn’t need to know about any of that crap, so shut your mouth and stay away from her.”

“Sam, you’re being rude.”

It takes Jill a lot of effort not to release the laughter that bubbles in her chest at the wide-eyed and confused way Sam turns and blinks at her sister as the young girl scolds her.

“I’m not- whatever,” Sam huffs, standing up. “It’s time to go.”

Jill watches intently as Sam grabs Tara and lifts her into her arms, as if she were a toddler and not eight, as Sam was so adamantly just telling her. There’s something possessive in the way she holds her. It feels pointed, and the way she catches Sam glancing at her as Jill hands Tara her book back tells her who this display is all for.

There’s something weird about the Carpenter sisters, something… not right. She can’t help but get one last word in as they go to leave.

“Have a good night, don’t let the Ghostface bite.”

She smirks as Sam freezes and her head twitches slightly to the side. Jill finds herself hoping she turns around and confronts her. It’s so very entertaining and she finds she wants to know, to understand, to find out what it is Samantha’s hiding.

Unfortunately, the day continues to be full of disappointments, and Sam continues walking.

Tara sends her a shy wave over her shoulder, which Jill reciprocates, flashing her a winning Jill Roberts smile.

The moment’s ruined by Kirby throwing herself onto the couch, her head slapping into Jill’s lap.

“Soooooo…” she crows, “what was thaaat about?”

Eugh.

- - -

“So what exactly was the deal with you dumping the kid in here, that’s not really like you.”

“Sam didn’t expect to have her today, she was supposed to go over to her best friends after school, but apparently they had a fight. Shortstack even punched her! Ha, didn’t know she had it in her.”

“She doesn’t seem the type.”

“Eh, that Freeman kid is a little bitch, I’m not surprised.”

“So what was the fight about?”

“Why so curious Roberts? Getting broody?”

“Eugh, shut up Reed, you’re the worst sometimes.”

[integra1127grimmreaper]

I'd Come for You (Joel Miller)

Joel Miller Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Prev

Warning: fluff, implied smut.

Summary: Final pt of Should Probably Leave. As always, Joel is there for you when needed. Inspired by - Nickelback's - I'd Come for You.

Stupid. It was absolutely stupid of you to let slip the origin of your necklace in hearing distance from Tom. You knew he hated you constantly wearing and refusing to ever remove it, just as much as he hated the close relationship you once had with Joel and his family and yet you had gone and blurted out the truth of it having been a gift from Joel. It was an honest mishap on your part when one of the ladies at the party you were attending enquired about it. Tom was not too happy about finding out about it and the minute you were alone, had insisted that you remove it, you had refused as always and a huge fight a broken out between the two of you over it.

You had started seeing glimpses of Tom's true colors when he had started to slowly distance you from your family but had naively thought it was all in your mind, yet after last night, you knew differently. Tom had finally shown all his darkness during the argument, acting in the nastiest manor you had ever seen him act before and that was something you would not stand for.

"Hello..." a voice answers the phone.

"Joel" you utter softly out.

"Y/N?" Joel frowns at hearing how deflated you sound. "What's wrong?"

"I-" you begin but stop short when realizing he might not even care. "I'm sorry to be bothering you. It was silly of me... just forget I called. Take care-"

"Nuh-uh" Joel tsks over the phone, "something's wrong. Tell me."

Tears prick at your eyes as the dam finally burst, "I need you, Joel..."

Joel doesn't think twice at hearing the fear in your voice, "I'm on my way."

Just one more moment That's all that's needed Like wounded soldiers In need of healing Time to be honest This time I'm pleading Please don't dwell on it 'Cause I didn't mean it

*

You had taken the week off from work and were hiding out at a friend's house, refusing to go back to that house or that asshole, Tom ever again. And that was where Joel knew to find you when arriving in New York.

You were watching a movie on your laptop when a text message came through on your phone. "I'm downstairs."

Jumping up in excitement, your rushed for the front door, almost ripping it off its hinges with your enthusiasm. "Joel!", you fling yourself into his open arms.

"Hey, Sweetheart...", Joel chuckles into your hair, clutching tightly onto you as he deeply breathes in your scent.

After some time, you both finally let go of each other. "How are ya?, Joel gently cups your check.

"Much better now you're here...", you smile at him.

I can't believe I said I'd lay our love on the ground But it doesn't matter 'Cause I've made it up Forgive me now Everyday I spend away My soul's inside out Gotta be some way That I can make it up To you now, somehow

By now you know that

I'd come for you No one but you Yes, I'd come for you But only if you told me to And I'd fight for you I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you You know I'd always come for you

I was blindfolded But now I'm seeing My mind was closing Now I'm believing

*

"What happened?", Joel enquires once in your bedroom.

"I was stupid", you remark.

Joel frowns at your words, "how so?"

With sorrow filled eyes, you looked at Joel, "I was stupid for leaving home... for leaving you."

"Ya ain't stupid, Sweetheart", Joel protests as he pulls you into an embrace. Pulling back a bit and resting his forehead against yours, Joel stares deeply into your eyes. "If anything, I'm the stupid one for letting ya go."

"Joel...", you murmur, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"Sweetheart?"

"Kiss me...", you utter.

Searching your eyes for a second, Joel gently tilts your face upward as he captures your lips in a soft kiss. As difficult as it was, Joel does his best not to overwhelm you with his desire, but you were having it. You push to deepen the kiss, pulling Joel's body over your own as you lay back onto the bed.

Breaking from the kiss for air, Joel's eyes were tightly shut as panted heavily whilst rocking his forehead against yours. Taking a deep breath and reopening his eyes, Joel searches your own one last time. "Ya sure?"

A broad smile spreads across your lips as you reach up to cup his cheek, "more than anything..."

It's been three months since your return, and it was the best decision you had ever made. You were happy again for the first time since leaving for New York and it was all thanks to Joel.

Joel, who came running the second you needed him. Joel, who silently listened as you explained what had happened to trigger your call for help. Joel, who comforted you when you tearfully explained of how in a fit of rage, Tom had broken the links of your necklace when he found out Joel had gifted it to you.

Flashback

"What happened?", Joel finally breaches the topic after you had settled in bed.

Releasing a heavy sigh, you move out of Joel's arms to sit up. "We had a huge fight over the necklace you gave me."

With a deep scowl, Joel sits up as well, "what about it?"

"He's always hated it, always questioned why I never took it off. I let it slip at a party, that you had given it me and he overheard. Throw a massive fit when we arrived home and he-", you cut off mid-sentence as tears formed.

"Did he hurt you?", a furious Joel enquires, gently gripping your chin to look at him when you don't immediately answer. "Answer me. Did he hurt you...?"

Hastily shaking your head in a silent, no. Head dropping in shame not long after, "but-", going silent again, you motion for him to hold on as you turn toward the bedside table. Turning back, you present the necklace in your open palm to Joel, "he ripped it off during the argument and the links broke..."

"That all?", Joel stares it, then back up at you. You give a silent head nod, and Joel reaches out to grip your chin as he narrows his gaze onto yours, "ya sure?". You silently nod again. "Did he hurt you?", Joel presses once more.

"No, Joel", you finally utter out.

A huge smile spread across Joel's lips as he lovingly stares into your eyes. "I'll fix it", he responds, pulling you into his lap and pressing a kiss to your forehead. "Long as ya safe... I can fix it."

And just like that; that chapter that was your life in New York was closed.

End

The move back home was much easier than you thought it would be, Sarah was ecstatic at your return and to your surprise, so were your parents. What surprised you even more was their nonchalant attitude to your and Joel's relationship.

Flashback

You busy preparing snacks in your parents' kitchen for the football game when Joel entered, wrapping his arms around from behind. "Missed ya...", he utters, peppering kisses along the column of your neck.

"You saw me last night...", you giggle at the sensation of his beard scraping against your flesh.

Turning you around to face him; Joel captures your lips in a hard kiss, resting his forehead against your, "always miss ya when ya not around me."

"Same", your arms wrap around the back of his neck to pull him in for another kiss. The kiss becomes more heated as Joel hoist you up onto a clear spot of the kitchen counter. Not too long into the make-out session, the two of you are interrupted by the sound of someone loudly clearing their throat.

"Don't mind us...", your mother waltz in pass your father without batting an eye, to place the drinks they gone out to get onto the nearby counter.

"Mom. Dad.", you stammer as Joel steps back and helps to place you safely back on the ground. "I- We-", is all you manage to get out.

Your father silently stares at you through narrowed gaze for a spilt second, his gaze moving toward Joel then; a huge smile spreading across his face. "Wanna help with the grill?"

"Sure", Joel smiles in return.

"What the fuck just happened?", you stare open-mouthed at retreating forms.

"You think we didn't know?", your mother answers with a soft chuckle and your eyes widen at her word.

"What...?"

Moving toward you, she reaches out to cup your cheek. "Honey... you've been in love with the man since you were sixteen... and we've known since then."

"How...?", is all you utter in response.

"You weren't really that good at hiding your feelings, Sweetie", your mother remarks. "Neither was Joel once you turned eighteen."

"And Dad?", you nervously enquire, "what has he said about it?"

"Your father was a bit uneasy at first. But he knew Joel was too much of gentleman to do anything inappropriate back then", your mother explains.

"Really...?", you utter, mind reeling with all this information. "Dad doesn't have a problem with me dating our older neighbor, that is also his friend?"

"Your father loves Joel...", your mother brushes your concern off with a scoff. "Said, he couldn't think of a better man for his daughter."

"Is that why he was so standoffish with Tom?", you ask once the puzzle pieces fell into place.

"Yup", your mother nods, a light giggle spilling from her lips then. "Can I confess somethin' to you?"

You silently not in response and she continues. "Your father and I had made a pact. That if the wedding with Tom happened, we woulda objected to it."

"What?", you giggle in response and your mother nods.

"We weren't 'bout to let you make the biggest mistake of your life, marrying a man you didn't love and didn't respect you. Especially knowing how much Joel and you loved one another."

Tears begin to prickle your eyes as you smiled at her, "thank you."

"We're just glad that Joel and you finally got ya heads outta ya ass and got together", your mother remarks, placing kiss to your forehead. A broad smile on her face then, "now I can finally say, yes, when people ask if Sarah's my grandchild."

And the rest of your fears involving going public with your relationship with Joel was history as your parents welcomed both he and Sarah into the family with open arms.

End

I finally know just what it means To let someone in To see the side of me That no one does or ever will So if you're ever lost and Find yourself all alone I'd search forever Just to bring you home Here and now, this I vow

By now you know that

I'd come for you No one but you Yes, I'd come for you But only if you told me to And I'd fight for you I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you You know I'd always come for you You know I'd always come for you

*

Two months after the scene in your parents' kitchen and now you were moving in with Joel.

"That's the last of it", Joel announces placing a box containing your belongings on the bedroom floor.

"Thank babe...", you call out from your spot on the floor, busy sorting out a box. Getting up when Joel moves toward you, meeting him halfway to wrap your arms around his neck. "I love you..."

Joel flashes you a dimpled smirk, uttering in response, "I love you too", as he tips down to kiss you. Breaking from the kiss; Joel rests forehead against yours, a glimmer of mischief shinning in his eyes as he stares at you. "Fixed ya necklace..."

"Thank you!", you squeal in excitement at getting it back, peppering Joel entire face with kisses.

"Easy there, Sweetheart...", Joel chuckles at your overexcitement. "It's in my top dresser draw", he encourages you to go retrieve it.

Narrowing your eyes at him suspiciously, you slowly head toward the dress. Joel moves to stand behind you as you open it, finding a large jewellery box inside; you take it out, a loud gasp escaping your lips when opening it. Inside, lies your repaired necklace but caused the shocked response; was the ring accompany it.

"Joel...?", you softly utter, turning around to find him on one knee in front of you.

"Marry me?", Joel utters out.

With teary eyes, you stared him for a second, finally nodding and utter out, "yes. Yes, I'll marry you!"

"Yes!", Joel hollers out in excitement, jumping up to scoop you into a tight embrace. "I love you...", he states, resting his forehead against yours.

"I love you too...", you tearfully whisper in response, and he tips to kiss you. Breaking the kiss, Joel carefully takes the ring from the box and places it on your finger. "Thank you...", you reach up to cup his cheek. "Thank you for coming to get me."

Placing his hand over yours, Joel brings your hand to lips and gently presses a kiss to it, "ya know I'll always come for ya... No matter what. No matter where... I'll always come for ya..."

No matter what gets in my way As long as there's still life in me No matter what, remember You know I'll always come for you

Yes, I'd come for you No one but you Yes, I'd come for you But only if you told me to And I'd fight for you I'd lie, it's true Give my life for you You know I'll always come for you

No matter what gets in my way As long as there's still life in me No matter what, remember You know I'll always come for you