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mrsjellymunson · 7 months

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Hello, Stranger

Pairing: Eddie Munson x gn!reader, Eddie Munson x you, Eddie Munson x reader

For @lesservillain’s excellent Strange and Spooky Stories Halloween writing event for the prompt: ‘Stranger’

Summary: A stranger comes in to buy weird stuff at odd times, and as the cashier at the local hardware store you’re not quite sure what to make of it…

CW: 18+ (MDNI), fluff, maybe SFW though caution for mature and dark themes and allusions to crime and violence. Flirting, li’l bit of awkwardness, some swearing. Both Eddie and reader are in their 20s. Reader’s gender and appearance are not described, they can be whatever you want. No use of y/n. Time period is not mentioned, and any inaccuracies/inconsistencies about history, equipment, American schooling (I’m not from around these parts) or science are deliberate and artistic oh yes they are. No smut, I thought I’d better assess whether I could string a semi-coherent story together before attempting to add that 😆

WC: ~6.2k

A/N: I love gore, revenge movies, murder shows, true crime, science/biology/forensics and DIY (sort of), so this prompt seemed like a perfect fit. There are tiny Easter eggs from The Equalizer, Breaking Bad, 80s crime TV, The Blacklist and John Wick in here - let me know if you spot any! This is the first ‘proper’ fic I’ve posted so I’d love to know what you think. Comments, reblogs and feedback are hugely appreciated and very welcome!

(Also this is my first attempt at dividers too, I hope they worked, I literally have no idea what I’m doing!)

Yep, you were ‘that’ weird kid. Your friends in Middle School had called you a freak because you brought squirrel tails and chicken feet to show’n’tell.

“But look! If you pull this tendon it makes the claw close! Isn’t that cool?!”

No, apparently that was not cool. Especially when demonstrated against your teacher’s finger...

You’d visit a friend whose father was a doctor, begging to read his medical and pathology text books, and preferring to look at pictures of dissected and diseased organs and spontaneous human combustion over braiding your friend’s hair or talking about boys.

And, apparently, scoring a class-topping 9.5/10 for your rat dissection also wasn’t the social merit badge you thought it might be, even amongst your science-abreast academic peers.

So what if you had a strong constitution. And a love of anatomy and pathology. And then compounded it with a love of true crime, particularly serial killers and forensic methods. Surely there were worse things to be interested in?

By the time you’d finished High School you’d learned to mask your enthusiasm, covering your (apparently, socially unacceptable) fascination for all things ‘gross’ and ‘murderous’ (your friends’ words) by choosing science majors like human anatomy and pathology, criminal behaviour and forensics.

People just thought you were clever, nerdy, a scientist. You never let on that you were itching to actually experience some of these things for yourself, in real time, with your own hands…

You work the evening shift at the sprawling out-of-town homewares store on the road running out of Indianapolis towards a tiny town you’ve never been to (Hawksville? Hawking?). You work a few evenings a week plus alternate Sundays, currently in the gardening, kitchen and hardware department. It wouldn’t be your chosen section of the store (in the short time you’ve been there you’ve had to amass a lot of knowledge about tools. Also, how to politely deflect the regulars’ offers to share details of their new projects, lest you get drawn in to a half-hour discussion about u-bends or rawl plugs), but the hours suit you and fit around your college classes, and the employee discount comes in handy when things in your shitty apartment break down or your roommate carelessly breaks something, again.

The final few hours of your shifts were usually pretty quiet, barring the occasional domestic plumbing emergency, or a bored Hawkins housewife coming in looking for batteries.

You don’t mind spending your evenings amongst the tools and machinery, it gives you a chance to flick through the latest copy of forensic magazine or True Crime, or work on your college assignments.

One thing that does make the slow evenings more entertaining is the unusual clientele. A nerdy-looking guy with a moustache needing releasable cable ties, cooking oil and a large plastic sheet at 9.30pm must have an interesting backstory, right?

You find yourself concocting fantastical vignettes about the oddballs that pass through, giving them the most amusing or disturbing story you can think of as they glide by in the night.

The guy with the cable ties? Too easy. Clearly he’s got a ‘special friend’ and an interesting evening planned. TBH, that’s probably not even fictional. You call him Salacious Scott.

The friendly, rotund lady who regularly comes in for for buckets and sawdust? You know it’s Mrs Henderson, who is trying to go self-sufficient and has recently installed a composting toilet, but you prefer to imagine she’s actually a madam with a ‘specialist interest’ playroom, who you brand Madame Urolagnia.

The paranoid guy with a beard and thick glasses who won’t tell you his name, buys a lot of vodka from the liquor store nearby and comes in for plastic pipe, cladding and those slot-together foam mats for kids? He tells you he’s into martial arts and these make safe weapon facsimiles for training, but you reckon he’s actually some kind of government agent. Your imaginary name for him is Mysterious Murray.

One oddball in particular has caught your attention, and not just because he’s easily the handsomest customer you’ve had in a while.

Wait, no, you didn’t just admit that; you just find him interesting, that’s all.

It was his speed and demeanour that had struck you first, rushing in, hand atop the bandana on his head, gangly legs in ripped jeans looking like they were trying to run in two different directions at once, large, dark eyes wide as he’d frantically looked around the store.

“Uh, rope, I need rope, where’d you keep the rope?”

You’d blurted some instructions and he’d headed off, not looking in your direction.

His leather jacket and swinging chains certainly commanded attention amongst the flannel and blue denim that was usually in your line of sight, and you’d found your eyes following him, catching sight of him moving between the aisles from your position behind the counter.

He’d moved towards you with a sturdy knife, a shovel and 3 rolls of duct tape that he’d collected on his way to the checkout, arms full (he didn’t pick up a basket), when you’d ventured,

“I’d recommend the next brand up, if you want something stronger with better sticking power? It costs a little more, but it’s better quality, so overall you’ll use less”, (silently thanking Mr Wheeler’s recent diatribe on the merits and pitfalls of various brands of adhesive tape, remembering the detail because he’d gone so far as to demonstrate by sticking small pieces of it to your skin. It was a weird interaction for sure, but also oddly informative).

He’d lifted his head to look at you and your eyes had connected for the first time. Your eyes widened, and you think you spotted a slight twitch of a smile at one side of his mouth.

Oh, he’s actually really cute.

“Uh, okay, if you think that’s best”.

He dropped his eyes from yours and, after unceremoniously dumping everything else onto your counter, he’d exchanged the rolls and returned.

You’d both paused, you don’t know for how long, and you’d wondered how someone buying rope could be so captivating. But the spell was broken as you’d both spoke simultaneously:

“Did you find everything you need?”

“I’m kinda in a rush, so…”

You’d both chuckled nervously, and you’d set about ringing up his purchases, noticing that a small smile definitely now graced those previously harried features.

He’d paid with a handful of old, crumpled bills pulled from his jacket, politely declining your offer of a bag, and then he was gone as quick as he came, hurrying out into the night with the swish of the automatic doors and a breeze of parking lot-scented night air.

You didn’t know why anyone would need rope and a shovel at that time on a weeknight, but with this particular guy, who you dubbed The Stranger, you found yourself thinking that you wouldn’t mind finding out.

You’d unintentionally spent the rest of that evening coming up with fantasies about that particular customer, although, unusually for you, quite a few of them hadn’t actually involved what was on his receipt…

When The Stranger next comes in he’s after heavyweight garbage bags, more tape and a saw, but seems in slightly less of a rush.

He pauses at your counter for a few moments, making polite conversation, asking how long you’d been working here, whether you were working late tonight.

Is he trying to… flirt? Surely not…

“Thanks for the tape recommendation by the way, it was a real lifesaver. That stuff’s really good, I definitely have a new favourite!”, gracing you with a broad grin (oh fuck, that was a sight) before he was on his way again.

Another time he bought shears, tarp and a large quantity of painting coveralls.

The next trip involved wire cutters, buckets and a wet’n’dry vacuum.

You begin to enjoy The Stranger coming in buying random shit at odd hours. You can’t quite make him out. He buys a lot of gardening and decorating-type equipment (plus he’s almost single-handedly keeping the cleaning product aisle in business), but he dresses like neither - always in tight, ripped jeans, shredded band tees and his signature leather jacket. You’ve never seen him covered in leaves or dirt, and his clothes have zero paint on them. Those coveralls must do a really good job…

You build up a rapport of sorts with him. There’s always a polite, verging on friendly greeting between you, and you let him know when there’s special offers on tarp and garbage bags, and what days there are deliveries of latex gloves and those painting coveralls he seems to like so much. (Sometimes you’ll even stash a few of the latter for him under the counter if there’s a holiday weekend coming up, knowing Hawkins’ husbands will be out in force and not wanting him to miss out.)

But the ‘fantasy vignette’ and forensically-inclined parts of your brain begin to overlap, and start to tickle your imagination. It’s almost as if each selection of items he buys could be used to either dispatch someone, or dispose of a body. But that’s crazy, right? He seems way too nice to be a serial killer. And mob activity in this part of Indiana? Nah. That wouldn’t happen around here.

Would it?

It’s a quiet Friday night when you next see The Stranger. He’s picked up bolt cutters, pliers, some metal trays, a sledgehammer, a mop, and, most bizarrely of all because you’ve noticed he’s not usually one for personal safety equipment, ear defenders.

Again, he’s basket-less, barely able to contain the items piled up in his arms. They topple as he arrives at your counter, and some end up partially covering your open magazine.

“Shit, I’m really sorry about that.”

“Oh, no problem, honestly. I probably shouldn’t be reading on the clock anyway”, you say, slightly bashful, as you move the crumpled magazine out from underneath his items, smoothing it down. The Stranger’s eyes are locked on your hands, and as they move across the page they reveal a headline about a recently apprehended serial murderer and some photographs of a variety of grisly-looking, bloody weapons.

“That looks… interesting, watcha reading there?”, he remarks, leaning in.

“Oh, this? It’s about a new guy they’ve just caught over in Europe. He’s fascinating, he used such a variety of tools and methods that at first the police didn’t even think to link the crimes. Ingenious, really, when you think about it. So creative!”

You look up, and The Stranger is regarding you with an unreadable expression. Does he think you’re weird, babbling on about this murderer like you admire him? Or is he actually impressed with your enthusiasm?

“Sorry, I’m a true crime buff, it’s a bit of a pet topic of mine. And I’m studying forensics at college, so it’s kind of like schoolwork too.” You chuckle nervously, arms moving in front of your body and shoulders subtly curling in on yourself in embarrassment.

The Stranger seems to sense your discomfort, and shakes his head, making his curls bounce, smiling and chuckling along with you.

“No, yeah, uh, me too with the crime thing, actually. Well, not so much the reading, I’m more of a hear-it-through-the grapevine, hands on kinda guy.”

‘Hands on’? WTF does that mean?

“Oh, cool, coolcoolcool”. Smooth…

As you scan his items your fantasy vignette tickles your brain again.

No, don’t be silly…

You bag everything up this time, insisting it’ll be easier to carry, handing them to him and taking his crumpled bills.

Your curiosity is more than piqued and you can’t hold it in any longer. Feeling bold, you ask, “So, what’s all this for?”

“Huh?”

“The- the stuff. What’re you doin’ with it?”

The Stranger looks at you through his lashes, not speaking.

Shit, you’ve overstepped, he’s gonna leave, find a different store and you’ll never see him again.

“Uh, well, some people I know out near the big city are, er, planning a, uh, party, with a few of their, um, associates, and I think it’s gonna get pretty loud, hence the earphones. I, uh, don’t usually get involved in stuff until later in the evening, y’know, after all the main fun’s over.”

You look a little quizzical.

He thinks for a moment.

“I tidy up, but I sorta make it a bit more fun for everyone. Bring a bit of pizazz to a usually mundane part of the evening. Kinda thing.”

You process for a few moments. The ‘Mob Cleaner’ vignette you’d fantasised about screams loud and long into your cerebrum.

Nerves give way to curiosity, and you brashly ask, “So, what exactly is it that you do?”

“I’m kind of a cleaner, I guess? If someone has a problem that they’ve had dealt with and they wanna make the cleanup more, um, interesting, I’m the guy they call.”

Probing further, you clarify, “So you don’t make the, uh, mess, you just clean it up. Creatively?”

“Yeah, exactly.”

He explains he’s still quite new to the job, and kinda fell into it. His boss and his mentor are both encouraging, saying his USP is truly original (Unique Selling Point, he explains when you look confused), and that he definitely ‘has potential’. He’s learning a lot as he goes, but his enthusiasm seems to be appreciated and he wants to do well.

“All you really need is a strong stomach, imagination and a flair for the dramatic!”

He illustrates his last point by making jazz hands by the sides of his head, offering you a generous smile. Yeah, you can see how that particular part of the job comes easy to him.

“Oh, well, it sounds like fun. I hope you have a very successful evening!”

“Okay, well, thanks again! I’ll see you.”

You watch him leave, noticing in particular how well his jeans fit tonight.

What’s that saying again - I hate to see you go, but I love to watch you leave…?

You shake your head to rid yourself of the lewd - and crazy, yeah, totally crazy - thoughts you’re having about The Stranger and encourage yourself back into work mode.

As you busy yourself and tidy your counter you notice something small and white on the floor in front, about the size of a credit card. It must’ve fallen out of his jacket as he fumbled for cash.

Cash. Always cash. Never credit card, never cheque, never — anything traceable…

You round the counter and pick it up, thinking you’d save it and return it to him the next time he comes in. It’s a business card. The text is unfussy and clear, but glossy, bold and slightly gothic. It’s a company name above some text and a pager number, but it may well be the most intriguing piece of writing that you’ve ever come across:

E.M. Creative Disposal Services, Apprentice to Mr Kaplan & Associates, For dinner reservations call: (555)-666-6969

It’s another quiet night, but there’s already a couple of people at the counter when The Stranger arrives. Mr Sinclair needs a pipe wrench and a plunger (you don’t envy him his evening), and Mrs Wheeler has come in to buy double-As for the second time this month (although this time she also added gardening gloves and secateurs to pad out her basket. Not that you’d judge either way).

You spot The Stranger’s curls before anything else, bobbing in the fluorescent lights as he comes through the entrance doors. He spots the queue and immediately joins it, glancing towards the counter and visibly brightening when he sees you behind it. He’s carrying the sledgehammer he bought last time. As you start to ring up Mrs Wheeler’s batteries you see him examining the head of the hammer. Frowning slightly, he moistens his thumb with his tongue and rubs at one corner, then polishes the same spot on the front of his jeans.

He reaches the counter, receipt retrieved from a bundle pulled from inside his jacket.

You greet each other with a quiet ‘hey’. He continues, “I, uh, wanted to return this. Can I do that?”

“Yeah, sure, lemme ring it through the till. Can I ask why? Company policy,” you shrug, almost apologetically.

“Sure, uh, well you know that phase ‘using a sledgehammer to crack a nut‘? Turns out a sledgehammer does indeed obliterate the, uh, nuts… Let’s just say it wasn’t really suitable for the project I had in mind. I think I need something…”

Lighter? Easier to aim?

“With a little more finesse?” You venture, eyebrows raised, hoping you haven’t completely misread things.

“Yeah, finesse! I like that”. He beams widely at you tilting his head slightly, revealing the most gorgeous dimples you’ve ever seen, and it’s all you can do to hold on to the edge of the counter while your knees gently fail beneath you.

“Umm, you want some help choosing?”

He readily agrees and you direct him to the hammer section, both of you discussing the merits and disadvantages of various models as you choose ones from the display and encourage him to feel their weight and balance. He seems impressed, clearly not expecting you to be so well-versed in the finer aspects of hardware.

“Y’know, you really know your tools!”

You squeak out a bashful, “Thanks.”

You slip into self-deprecating mode and brush off his compliment, saying, “It comes with the territory I guess. I’ve picked up a lot working here. Plus I just sometimes browse the shelves, thinking of nefarious uses for random household objects.” Hurriedly adding, “For school, of course!”

You cringe a bit, thinking this must make you look like some kind of weirdo, but The Stranger takes it easily in his stride, commenting, “You know, you’d be surprised to learn just how much of a marketable skill that can be.”

You chat some more and he eventually chooses a smaller, less unwieldy hammer, and after he pays you part ways again.

You still desperately want to ask him exactly what he used that other hammer for, what ‘Creative Disposal Services’ actually means, and what the hell have dinner reservations got to do with any of this?

The next night you see The Stranger he saunters in at about 8:30. He has a different energy about him this evening, seeming both more relaxed but also somewhat on edge. He’s not in his usual ratty band tee tonight, you notice, and no leather jacket either. Instead he’s wearing a what looks to be a clean, maybe even pressed, electric blue raglan shirt with black half length sleeves. You spot a crimson guitar pick necklace that you’ve not seen before dangling from a twinkling silver ball chain, resting against his sternum and resplendent against the blue.

Observing his forearms for the first time you notice how attractive - and (oh!) tattooed - they are. Toned and veined, their shape and his mix of tattoos are shown off to perfection by that sleeve length, and a leather and chain bracelet that adorns one powerful-looking wrist. The glint of his chunky silver rings accentuates his large hands that peek out of his jeans pockets as he wanders over to you. He’s still in tight black jeans, but they seem a little… neater than usual. And he’s not in a rush. It’s almost like he’s not working, maybe even making an effort.

You feel a frisson of excitement - could it be that he’s come in just to see you?

Exhibit A, m’lud: Scrubbing up well.

He heads straight for your counter, and you greet each other with your characteristic friendliness.

He spies the hefty text books you’ve spread before you, and leans onto the counter to get a closer look.

“Watcha workin’ on tonight, Doctor Quincy?”

You swallow at the cute nickname, voice cracking slightly as you start to tell him about the assignment you’ve got. It’s about evidential tool marks, and how pathologists can identify what’s been used as a weapon or tool of dismemberment.

The Stranger tries to play down his interest, but his demeanour betrays him as he presses for more details, even asking if he could maybe read the finished piece.

That’s weird, right? People don’t read other people’s science essays for fun. Do they?

But you agree, promising to bring him a copy when it’s done.

The conversation lulls, and The Stranger twists the pad of one of his thumbs against the counter, seemingly a little nervous, though you can’t imagine what about.

To break the silence you slip into work mode, but for some reason drop your voice a couple of octaves and murmur,

“So anyway, what is it that can I help you with, sir?”

Wait, is he blushing?

“Um, oh, uh, I actually don’t have a shopping list today, I was, uh, just gonna browse, I guess.”

He backs away from your counter, giving it a few rhythmic slaps with his fingertips before turning away from you and ambling off into the store. He returns a few moments later with a small hatchet and mid-range fold-out knife, plus two rolls of his now-favourite tape.

“You can never have too many of these, amirite?”

He gives you that dimpled smile again, and you feel your stomach do a full (though anatomically impossible) 360° flip.

Observing his lack of focus and comparatively small selection of items, you wonder if he really needs those things, or whether he’s just picking them up as an excuse to come in to the store. Your chest heats up a little at the thought.

Exhibit B: Small, possibly unnecessary purchase. The evidence is mounting up.

Seeing the hatchet, your eyes light up with enthusiasm as you remember something.

“Hey, we just got some new stock in that I think you might like, y’know, if I’m not overstepping or anything.” You finish with a nervous chuckle.

You smile at him nervously through your lashes, skin heating even more in case this is suddenly all a bit too familiar.

He grins, responding, “Sure, go ahead!”

Your smile broadens and relaxes as you turn away from him and walk to the back shelves, crouching down and retrieving something in your arms.

Standing quickly and turning, you notice his eyes widen and immediately flick up to yours, a slightly alarmed expression on his face.

Exhibit C: Was he checking you out when he thought you wouldn’t notice? (Also, is it getting hot in here?)

With a loud thunk you lay two (frankly, terrifying-looking) multi-tools out on the counter in front of him. One looks like an oversized, overspec-ed Swiss Army knife, and the other could easily pass as a prop from an exorcism-themed horror movie. You over-excitedly explain the features of each, saying, “This one has a hammer and an axe, plus screwdrivers, pliers, a saw, wire cutters, a magnesium rod”, you look up at him quickly and ask, “do you ever need to start fires? Plus, it has…”, you wave your hand dramatically over your favourite part of the item, like you were showing it off on a shopping channel, and stretch out the syllables of the final two words for emphasis, “…a bottle opener…”. You raise your eyebrows and grin widely, like this must surely be the deal breaker.

The Stranger laughs, throwing his head back with deep-throated barks from the centre of his chest, and then he chuckles a little, bringing a strand of hair over his cheek and a curled finger to his lips. You’re slightly distracted by that glimpse of his extended neck (god, you want to gnaw at it), and that laugh? You wish you could’ve recorded it somehow.

You quickly compose yourself and continue, switching to the ’horror prop’ product, “And this one has fewer features, but I like it for its simplicity, robustness and practical charm. It’s an axe, hammer, nail puller and pry bar. And it even has a rubber coated handle, so you can still use it safely even if your hands are wet. For, y’know, whatever reason…” you finish, slightly abashed.

“Aw, Pumpkin, this is the kindest thing anyone’s done for me in a while, thank you.”

Pumpkin. PumpkinPumpkinPumpkin. Exhibit D: A term of endearment!

He takes some time to examine both articles, testing out their various features, hefting them in his (large, strong) hands (stop it!).

“I love them. Y’know what, I can’t decide. I’ll take both. What’s the damage?”

You visibly brighten, a squeak of delight that you hope he didn’t hear inadvertently leaving you as you puff up with both his term of endearment and your ever-growing customer service confidence.

You check whether he’d still like the other items he’d brought to the counter, and apart from the duct tape (“You really can’t have too much of this stuff!”), he allows you to reshelve the rest.

He watches, enthralled, as you wrap his new tools in the store-issue brown paper reverently and carefully, as though you were wrapping an expensive gift in a fancy department store, the pair of you sharing bashful looks and half smiles as you work.

As he hands over the now-unsurprising crumpled bills and takes his change his hand drifts closer to yours, glancing his fingers over your palm and lingering for just a moment. There’s a little hitch in your inhale, and you think you see his ears redden a little.

He gathers up his purchases in his arms carefully and gently, and he backs away from your counter slowly.

“I guess I’ll head out then. Uh, I’ll see you around.”

“Yeah, I guess you will, uhh-”

“Eddie. My name’s Eddie.”

“Okay, I guess so, Eddie.” You say his name slowly, like you’re testing out the syllables in your mouth.

You continue speaking, offering your name in reciprocation.

“Yeah, yeah I know your name, it’s kinda on your little badge there.” A tiny nod indicates the plastic rectangle pinned on your apron strap near your left shoulder.

Your cheeks heat again. “Right, of course. Ha!” You inwardly cringe. Well, that could’ve gone better.

He’s still backing away, getting dangerously close to an intricately balanced display of colourful children’s watering cans. You’re about to say something, but he turns just in time, ambling towards the illuminated exit with a mumbled, “Okay, bye then. Thanks again for these…” lifting the packages in his arms, and turning to look over his shoulder a couple more times before he finally reaches the door and disappears into the parking lot.

“Hey, d’you know anything about wood chippers?”

It’s been a week since you’ve seen The Stranger Eddie, and you turn abruptly to find him walking towards your counter.

His question throws you out of your stocktaking zone (you’d been focussing on ordering enough plastic pumpkin-shaped buckets for all of Hawkins’ kids this Halloween), but you quickly slip into customer service mode and ask for more details.

Eddie explains, using mostly his arms, that he needs one that, “throws everything everywhere”. You finally work out that he means the type where you feed stuff into a hopper on one side and the shredded debris is forced out of a raised chute on the other (as opposed to the more gravity-based ones where stuff is fed into the top and simply falls out the bottom).

He’s passing it off as being involved in some avant garde student art project, a performance piece involving feeding a load of wood and, uh, paint, yeah, paint into a wood chipper and having it spray out the other side. He blusters that the students are trying to make a point about climate change, or maybe it’s deforestation, he can’t seem to decide.

He explains that the piece is to be performed indoors, that there’ll be quite a few people present, and that he also needs a large quantity of tarp and coveralls because it was likely to make a huge mess.

This is the clincher. You’re absolutely convinced there is no art project, and what’s go through that chipper is more likely to be a human body. Or, given the amount of effort being gone to, and Eddie’s flair for theatrics, probably more than one.

“What size branches?”

He looks at you, confused. “Huh?”

“The, uh, limbs. What size will you be shredding? Some of the smaller models won’t cope with thick trunks.”

He swallows. His eyes meet yours, and he licks his lips. You can’t help but stare at those full, pink… Look away! Just look away!!

He subtly smirks, slowly moves his hands across the counter, and, gently taking hold of one of your hands in his, loops his other finger and thumb around your wrist.

“Um, definitely thicker than this…” - he extends your arm towards him, and moves his other hand slowly up your skin until he gets to your upper arm - “…and maybe a little thicker than this, too.”

You hope he can’t feel the burning sensation that’s erupted up your arm. You know he can’t possibly hear your racing heartbeat or detect the adrenaline that’s coursing through your veins, but you’re acutely aware of both just the same. You briefly ponder whether you’ll need to get a fire extinguisher from aisle 7.

“Umm, how about I show you what we’ve got?”

Composing yourself, barely, you take him to the large garden implements section, explaining that for larger trunks and limbs he may need something towable.

Under the guise of working out whether various models would be suitable, you take the opportunity to dig a little and find out what kind of vehicle he drives. It’s a van, so roomy, practical for carrying a lot of equipment that needs to be kept out of sight. Well, this all tracks.

Also, your brain helpfully suggests, it could potentially be romantic, a private little hideaway where you and he could… No! Stay on topic, you’re at work for god’s sake!

As you debate the various choices you find you’re occasionally leaning into each other, shoulders and elbows lightly bumping, you stealing glances at his chiselled jawline when you think he isn’t looking.

Eddie eventually decides on a mid-size towable model, and as you arrange for it to be delivered to the collection bay he bids you goodnight and disappears out to his van.

‘Art project’, huh? I don’t think so…

You don’t see Eddie for a couple of weeks after that, and you begin to wonder whether he doesn’t like you. Maybe you went too far, did you bore him? Did you frighten him off? Did he feel pressured into buying those gadgets or the expensive wood chipper?

Maybe he’s finally realised you’re a weirdo, like everyone at school eventually did?

Trying to get out of your funk you steel yourself and ask your department manager, Keith, whether he’d seen an odd, metal-looking guy in the store at all.

“Nah, not recently, but someone like that did come in a few weeks back, asking about when you’d be working. Something about your product knowledge helping him with a job, or whatever. I told him your schedule, I hope that’s ok.”

So you haven’t missed him, and maybe he’s not avoiding you. Good, that’s good. Exhibit E: He’s been asking about you?? Oh fu-

You’re startled out of your reverie by the sound of someone slapping two plastic packets down onto the counter.

“Oh, hi Mrs Wheeler, let me ring those up for you…”

On his next visit it’s clear Eddie is restocking his cleaning supplies, and he’s even deigned to use a small trolley this time to transport the heavy and bulky items.

As well as multi-surface cleaner, mops, cloths and some heavy duty gloves, you notice his trolley also contains numerous bottles of chlorine bleach.

“Big clean-up job tonight, huh?”

“What? Oh, yeah, I guess so. I need to leave the place without any trace of the, uh, performance this time.”

“Depends what you need to clean up, I guess. Y’know, chlorine bleach doesn’t necessarily get rid of everything.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s fascinating, common misconception by the way. Chlorine bleach gets rid of visible stains, so that’s great if your main concern is aesthetics. But you can still detect haemoglobin, if you have access to the right tools and solutions.”

Eddie looks bath engaged and confused.

“A-heema-whatnow?”

You snicker.

“Haemo-, y’know what, never mind. Blood, basically. So actually, oxygen bleach is your best bet if your biggest concern removing all traces of, let’s say, blood and DNA. Whilst it doesn’t necessarily remove all the marks, it does degrade everything biological to the point where it’s undetectable. At least, with the tests we currently have.”

Eddie leans his elbows on the counter, giving you his full attention, resting his cheeks on his knuckles and pushing his dimpled grin up even further. Emboldened, you talk at length about haemoglobin, DNA degradation, specialist chemical solutions and alternative light sources.

He stays there, rapt, until you come to a natural stop. Just before he straightens up he quietly mumbles, still smiling, “Fucking incredible”.

With a deep breath he returns to the aisles to procure both types of bleach, pays and heads out into the night with a cheery, “Wish me luck!”

The cleanup must’ve gone well, because Eddie’s back a few days later and is making conversation.

“Hey, um, I remember reading once about some guy in England, years ago, who, like, melted people. You ever heard of that?”

You contemplate for a moment.

“Oh, d’you mean the Acid Bath Murderer, John Haigh?”

“Acid bath? Yeah, that sounds familiar.”

“Y’know, that’s actually one of my favourite case studies! It was one of the stories that first got me interested in true crime. 1940s England, dude thought he could get away with it if there was no body. Nope, sorry! When I first heard about it I thought it was really inventive, though he actually took the idea from a French guy who’d already done similar. Makes you wonder how many undiscovered dissolved bodies there might’ve been before and since, huh?”

You wax lyrical for a little while on the relative merits and disadvantages of the dissolving of human bodies in acid, even relating an anecdote about how your lab partner once chose the wrong combination of acid and beaker type, finishing with, “Hoo-boy, that was a mess!”

You become a little awkward, aware of how long you’ve been talking and the possibly-disturbingly-creepy level of detail you’ve gone into, though Eddie doesn’t seem to mind and presents somewhat like he’s paying attention in a chem class. Regardless, you decide to change the subject.

“I meant to ask last time, how did that wood chipping project go?”

“Oh, uh, yeah, really good, thanks. Y’know that advice you gave me about the chipper came in real handy. It was quite the show!” He looks gleefully at you, flashing that brilliant smile. A few small fireworks quietly explode in your innards.

“I’m so glad! Did the client like it?”

“Oh yeah, baby, they were thrilled!”

Baby. That’s new. You like it, and you add it to your growing mental filing system labelled ‘Evidence that Eddie might like me’. You can’t even remember what letter you’re up to now, you’re just enjoying stuffing it fuller every time he graces you with another morsel.

“They even gave me a nice bonus, for my ‘theatricality’.” He begins to lift his arms, but stops himself, resisting doing the jazz hands things again, reasoning there’s only so many times he can do an impersonation of a court jester before it puts someone off. “Said they’re gonna recommend me to their buddies too.”

More softly, and a little bashful, looking through his lashes he adds, “Kinda wish you could’ve been there, actually.”

Oh my, is he blushing again?

“Yeah, me too. I’d love to see you work sometime…”

“You would?”

Okay, he’s definitely blushing.

He leans in over your counter, close, so he can say in a low voice,

“Uh, just so we’re on the same page, you know what I do has nothing to do with art projects, right?”

Holding his gaze, and with your voice surprisingly steady, you swallow before confirming, “Yes, Eddie. I know.”

He huffs out a stuttering breath, and the air between you seems to heat.

He lifts one hand and rubs the back of his neck nervously.

“Hey listen, uh, I dunno if this is a little too forward, or weird, or y’know, whatever,” He’s rambling now. It’s adorable.

“I was kinda gonna ask you if you wanted to get milkshakes sometime, but, uh, maybe you’d actually wanna come out on a job with me? I’ve got one coming up on Sunday that I could really use an extra pair of hands on. I could pay you of course, y’know, for your time.”

You want to blurt out that, for him, you’d willingly burn the world and everyone in it for free. Instead, you smile wide, and settle for,

“Well, my tutors are always encouraging us to get real world experience…”

“Great, so I’ll pick you up at the end of your shift?”

“Sure, Eddie. I’ll look forward to it.”

You’re both grinning, stuttering messes.

“Great! Great. Uh, okay then, I guess I’ll see you Sunday?”

As he turns to leave, you stop him with one final question.

“Just one more thing Eddie. Should I bring my own coveralls..?”

If you got this far, thanks so much for reading!!

Comments and reblogs make my world spin, do let me know what you think.

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chaifootsteps · 4 months

Note

Hey so uh, student studying psychology, I agree.

Personal story that will end up relating to Viv, I promise. (Please do not take this as a diagnosis either, but I also noticed Viv and my ex share troubling personality traits)

Not APA, but I had an ex who I'm pretty sure has NPD (He is also autistic, and I am as well). We got along so well, probably because we were both autistic. It was a long-distance relationship we had for 4 years.

I had a very troubled childhood growing up, and hardly had any friends in school. I never went to hang out with anyone, I always came straight home. I was extremely isolated for those 4 years because my caregiver was extremely abusive to me. My ex was all I had.

For 4 years, he promised me I was the only one he ever wanted. He told me what I wanted to hear, and became a completely different person to disguise who he really was underneath. Ironically, he "works" as a filmmaker/actor. Sometimes I knew it felt off, he'd pressure me into doing things I was uncomfortable with (only a year and half age difference so he wasn't an older guy grooming me (but he was still absolutely grooming me. I was also a minor at this time.)

He'd also lovebomb the shit out of me, as well as using a term called "future faking", where the person promises you a grand future and that everything is going to be wonderful and amazing. It's a tactic, like lovebombing, to keep the victim hooked for as long as possible. He promised me we'd get a shitty apartment together, that he'd "take me away" from the abuse I was suffering from for so long.

He promised me a family. Children. Marriage. Everything and anything I needed to hear to keep me in his power.

For his "movies" he would go to conventions and find D list actors to be in his stuff and he would, in private, go off about how he's got these "amazing actors" from xyz movie. He'd also gloat about the expensive equipment he'd gain access to. Like Viv at GlitchX, he would never shut the fuck up about his projects and ideas. He was extremely self centered. He loved taking photos with them with smug looks on his face too. He also literally took a picture of himself kissing himself, with a mirror filter, and showed me in private. I brushed it off but always thought it was weird. I wish I was joking.

He would also lose his ever loving shit if you critiqued him. He would actually cry and throw childish tantrums. And not even his stuff, if you said ANYTHING negative about his interests, he would take it as a personal attack. Not even that, if you just gave a "meh" reaction to something he'd show you, he'd also get super passive aggressive and pissed.

I think part of that is the autism (I struggle with people not liking things I like too. I get bummed out and sometimes pissed, but never to the degree that he did.) but it was always uncomfortable for me. But I always championed his movies. I never once said a negative thing about them. Not in private or to him.

Fast forward to me finding out he cheated on me, and continued to cheat on me with 5+ people over the entire course of our relationship. I read horrific messages between him and those people, where he called me a "bitch" and would actively plan out "how to get me back" whenever I tried leaving him (because again, I had weird feeling about him but he always managed to pull me back in).

And I'm not going to lie, I was shitty towards him. I took my anger out on him from the abuse I suffered because he was the only person in my life.

I regret that to this day. I never should've yelled at him or treated him badly when he was (at least to me) genuinely trying to make me happy.

All he cared about was himself and getting his dick wet. He still tries to tell me (if he can get his messages through) that he always loved me, and he just made mistakes as a "stupid kid."

It took a long time to get away from him and see that he was extremely unhealthy. He also has very dangerous gross fetishes, that I even didn't know about when we dated.

So yeah... they both are very similar for sure. Paperskin egos, takes criticism as a direct attack, self-centered, collecting people, hiding their true personalities, using people to climb the ranks to meeting celebs and using them in their work, lovebombing their victims...

Again, this doesn't confirm either one has NPD, but Viv reminds me a lot of my ex. And it's not good at all.

And this is MY experience. In no way shape or form am I demonizing anyone else who has this disorder.

And if you've experienced these things from someone, I am so sorry. I hope you can get the help you need.

Thank you for your story, Anon. I'm so sorry that happened to you.

Not going to say anything, just going to leave this here so people can draw their own conclusions.

#Anonymous #viv stuff #actual blog post

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bathroomtrapped · 1 year

Note

What are the basic differences between saws original script and the outcome? Why did they not play those scenes?

theres a lot of superficial changes, like their ages and adams last name being denlon. honestly still not sure where faulkner-stanheight got confirmed as his last name!

a lot of the things that were cut had to do with adams character and im not entirely sure why it was cut. his reason for being there was because he was suicidal. jigsaw said something along the lines of "everyday youve wanted to die". he wanted to go to vet school and had an interaction with some cat in his apartment. theres a scene where his mother calls, saying his father isnt mad and that he should call them. he writes on a sticky note "call mom" then adds a "?"

he has an interaction with a shitty neighbor, begs god to become a better person

theres probably a few small details about him im forgetting bc its been a while since ive reread the screenplay but the common theme is that the saw movie cut out a MASSIVE amount of context for adams character.

im not entirely sure why, i think some scenes might have to do with cutting down on time (the cat scene would probably get cut for time before filming once they actually start working on the project) vs something that was cut to make the story tighter and change adams role in the story.

he tells lawrence that basically, be hid the photo because he "didnt know what he would do". aka he was scared that itd motivate lawrence to kill him more. not sure why this is cut because some people clearly did not pick up on that lol

basically everything we know about adam is only known to us because it has something to do with lawrence. we know it because lawrence needs to. its unfortunately bc i like adam enough to want to know more but it serves the story better. hes the audience. we know what we know bc adam knows it or learns it. hes the one behind the camera. hes a voyeur. hes literally nothing. he died forgotten by basically everyone and hes just BARELY there in the narrative bc hes just... nothing.

at the end of the day, he was just a pawn. hes not important to anyone but lawrence because this is his story. this is his test and were just the people chained up and forced to watch it play out. i imagine his backstory and personal information was cut for this reason.

during the editing process, there were scenes cut. i know the trap was supposed to be more elaborate originally. i think the cat scene was cut out to save time and the mom scene/motivation/history was cut to firmly center the narrative on lawrence

one change that fucking BAFFLES me is that at the end during the love scene, adam originally asks lawrence "am i going to be okay?". in the film its "are WE going to be okay?" umm im honestly not quite sure what series of thoughts propelled them to make such a gay film by accident, call the end the LOVE SCENE publicly, and then proceed to be shocked when people call them on it? leigh was shocked to see chainshipping fics back during the ff.net days (fun fact: the first ever chainshipping fanfic was published on ffnet called rebirth. its still up)

my best guess is that leigh wanted to push their "relationship" (whatever they think that is) further for more emotional pay off. most of the changes seem to pull their themes tighter. it ends up working in its favor. adam is lawrences test and his moral core or whatever, so they have a pretty instant connection. it was probably done to make lawrence suffer more! or maybe make it gayer and leigh is just doing a bit

theres also the lampshade song lol. some dumb shit leigh made up and cary refused to do, so they changed it to the weird little piggy thing instead. MINOR minor improvement

certain words were changed because cary just kinda... rolled with it. he adjusted the script a few times bc he rly liked lawrence for some reason. he still does. leigh just accepted it and let him do his thing

amanda was also amanda denlon in the screenplay im pretty sure

tapp was dunked on by john as he assassins creed-ed him in the throat for being a 40 YEAR OLD VIRGIN! absolutely insane

the way adam finds out lawrence is a doctor is different, he talks about possibly being injected with rohypnol LOL

the heart was actually a clue leading to the word toilet written over his heart, under his shirt. the blood heart wasnt in the script LOL. i imagine cary didnt want to have toilet written on his bare chest for the film? a shame

theres more interactions with tapp, sing, lawrence, and brett (his lawyer) im assuming its what happened before they asked lawrence to sit and watch amandas testimony. they say his fingerprints were found at the scene, not a pen. i think either way its interesting because. wow! lawrences prints are in the system which means he has a record. the implications are kinda funny, it makes how baffled he is that tapp dare accuse him of such a thing! even more ironic. now we know that mark was involved in the police and planted the pen, so he probably just out his prints into the system as well

amanda works at lawrences hospital. not sure why this is cut? possibly bc shawnee was begged to join bc james had a big crush on her and she didnt even want to originally. she might notve wanted to do multiple scenes or something at the time before she decided on returning as amanda (for whatever reason, im not quite sure why she became so attached to the series after not joining as enthusiastically as cary did after watching the 2003 short)

amandas reason is also different. i think jigsaw literally hated depressed ppl so much in the script bc she was there for therapy or something LOL. not drugs. prob just cut to improve it

thats all i got. theres a lot of changes for logics sake related to the trap, wording changes for flow (im assuming), time constraints, and to streamline the themes and center it on lawrence

#soo much in this #getting saw questions is interesting lol #ive been thinking about the nothing-ification of adam for a while now #hes literally a ghost ! always was always will be lol #larry.txt

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amostimprobabledream · 1 year

Text

My thoughts on the new Matilda movie musical

Yeah, I’m gonna get this out of the way - I am extremely biased because I grew up on the OG Matilda with Mara Wilson. It’s one of my comfort movies, so I was likely to be critical of this. However I’m also a fan of the musical and Tim Minchin in general, so I was willing to give it a shot. Overall? The Mara Wilson version is the absolute superior movie. The musical is somewhat more true to the book (except the bullshit with Miss Honey’s parents), but there’s something very overly-produced and rushed about this new version. I liked most of the songs, but they felt a lot faster than the songs on the musical soundtrack and it gave the movie this weird pacing issue where it was both slow, with its overindulgent dream sequences, and incredibly rapid-paced with how quickly it jumps from plot points and the songs are sped up. “Bruce” was my favourite of the musical numbers but I don’t like that Bruce was downgraded into being Matilda’s age instead of a child a few years older. It doesn’t really feel like a cohesive story so much as a bunch of fantastical set pieces linked together. And while the actress who played her was a good singer, I couldn’t help but find this Matilda kind of unlikeable? There aren’t many scenes where she’s interacting with the kids the way an actual kid would, like in the OG movie and the book where there’s a long scene with her and Lavender as Hortensia explains the ins and outs of Cruncham Hall to them - instead we get a musical number of the kids singing about how tough the school is. Most of her scenes involve her yelling at the adults around her or singing about how unfair her life is. Also, she kept purposefully defying Trunchbull (lying about that kid having narcolepsy, trying to defend Bruce, etc) but Trunchbull never really does anything to her for it aside from vaguely promising to punish her “late”. Like when she shoves Bruce in the Chokey, why not come back and do something to Matilda? (Also Miss Honey’s aghast at Bruce being put in the Chokey because “he’s too young!” but like...putting a child in the Chokey at all is cruel and unusual so what weird complaint? The way she says it makes it sound like she’d be fine with it if he was a nine year old.) Like in the OG movie, she locked Matilda in the chokey just because her dad sold her a shitty car, tries to have her locked away when she figures out Matilda was at her house and blames Matilda for the glass spilling even though she was sitting at her desk. The movie tried to get you to feel sorry for her by giving Mr and Mrs Wormwood moments where they mistreat her, but it just fell kinda flat for me, especially since the Wormwoods came across like they were doing another movie offscreen. (I also found it weird they cut Matilda’s older brother Mikey.) This Matilda just comes off like a bossy little showoff and the actress’s habit of shrieking half her lines didn’t help - I think it’s obvious she’s more used to acting onstage where you have to project your face than in a movie.

I don’t have much to say about the other kids because they barely seemed to be in the movie - Hortensia got changed to a weird kid with a beret and I don’t think anybody even spoke her name onscreen, Lavender became “the newt kid” and more like Matilda’s secretary than her best friend and Bruce got that one song and went right back to being irrelevant again. Emma Thompson was easily the best part of the movie, she was clearly having an absolute blast playing Miss Trunchbull and they included some scenes that were in the original novel, like picking a boy up by his ears, but I’m sorry - Pam Farris’s Trunchbull would have utterly destroyed Thompson’s. She’s played way more for comedy and her defeat is a lot more anticlimactic and cartoony.

Miss Honey is a massive downgrade from the original. The actress had a good singing voice, but Miss Honey in this is a soggy pile of lettuce. She spends the entire movie stuttering and quailing and makes very limp attempts at protecting the kids and overall it’s easy to completely forget she’s in a scene. The OG Miss Honey had a dark past that caused her great pain, but “she did not allow it to interfere with her teaching” and she makes much more of an effort to be proactive in her children’s lives - including when she goes to Matilda’s house and tells off her parents directly. This one was just so bland and two-dimensional and she just spends like every scene with this annoying timid smile on her face. I also found it weird Matilda happened to tell a story that was exactly what happened to Miss Honey’s parents - does she have clairvoyance in this version as well and she can see the backstory of her future adopted mother? Also, with how the character of Ms. Phelps suddenly became like a major supporting character, why didn’t Ms. Phelps just adopt Matilda? It seemed very weird to me Matilda spends all this time with another adult who isn’t Miss Honey and she never gets suspicious about why this kid doesn’t appear to have any friends or why she’s never met her parents - also, why did Matilda keep lying to Ms. Phelps about having shitty parents? She’s fine with outright confronting her parents over her father’s dirty business dealings and outright defying the Trunchbull, but she can’t tell the one adult she actually trusts the truth about what’s going on? Ms. Phelps didn’t seem to have much of a life outside of driving her library van around and listening to Matilda’s story, so it seemed off they put so much focus on her. Matilda’s bond with Miss Honey also suffered greatly in comparison to the book and OG movie and we didn’t even have the scene where she officially has her adoption papers signed by the Wormwoods. If it was that easy for Matilda to leave, why didn’t she just ask Ms. Phelps if she could live with her before the movie started? Why keep lying? Also I found it interesting that every mean/abusive adult was white but every “sympathetic” adult had been raceswapped. I don’t think the filmmakers bothered to stop and consider how problematic that is, but this post is already getting pretty long so that’s as much as I’m going to say. All in all, I regret paying money to see it. Again, Tim Minchin’s songs were the best bit but the whole movie just felt like it was trying to distract you from the weak storytelling with flashy set pieces and overly-saturated colours. (Also what the fuck was that bit right at the end where Crunchem Hall has a fairground built on the playground? Like yeah, I’m sure kids will really want to focus on learning when there’s a fucking ferris wheel and helter skelter outside!)

#Matilda the musical #Matilda 2022 #Blogging #Movie #Review

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blurredblonde · 6 months

Text

BUCKET LIST, including the strange, the wild, the weird, and the borderline undoable

Go to a nude beach

spread eagle naked towards the sun

use Pinterest business to do brand links and get any amount of $$ from that alone

go to a pole dancing class

try hot yoga

do a burlesque show in Melbourne

post an animation to youtube

start a webtoon

learn to sew

get an apartment by myself

get an apartment with friends

post a shitty homemade music video in a lana del rey way with the help of friends

get a perm

visit coney island

be 125 pounds

get a the dachshund tattoo

post a vlog like im famous

be a extra in a movie

act in a gay indie movie like norman reedus

go to a gorillaz concert

get a snake

get a record player

meet a sugar mommy

go to a jazz bar alone

get a dressed up like a old hollywood star and go have a night on the town

get my license

own a mustang

ride a motorcycle

go to a mosh pit

go to a rave

get black out drunk

go skinny dipping

publish a art book

own a beach house

get a red gingham bikini

take a slutty picture in a american flag bikini and post it to instagram

go diving with whale sharks

be a art director on a project

do a mural on a wall

complete a painting on an obnoxiously large canvas

make a pop song with no knowledge of music or mixing

work on a big animated film

Do a boudoir photoshoot

party in paris

do a full cosplay

pet a pigeon

get a scuba diving license

explore an abandoned building

kiss a stranger

get in a fist fight

flash my boobs at something

attend a figure drawing class

be the nude model at a figure drawing class

receive fanart of my own characters

create a reel showing school doodles

be the cinematographer for a project

take a history class

be a dive instructor

post a animation meme to a jack stauber song

go on vacation all by myself

have sex

be in a youtube video

go on the video side of omegle

visit japan

go to a film festival

jump off a pier

do a pin-up photoshoot

go to an acting interview

heh

open an online store

do artist alley at a convention

cross country roadtrip with friends

stargaze on top of a car

invest in stocks and real estate

go on a cruise to thailand and thrift there

go to the new york library

visit bora bora

learn to play guitar

draw on the sidewalk with chalk

nurture and take care of a plant

grow my own food

get chickens

join a club in uni

take a pottery class

work out in a gym

surf a barrel

buy a surfboard

meditate for 50 days in a row

travel in a van

fly first class

go on a blind date

buy and fill a photo album book

kiss in the rain

do a thirty-day photography challenge and post the whole thing

explore the woods by my house

go to a ball/masquerade party

host a dinner party

say yes to everything for a day

grow my hair past my ass

become mildly fluent in french

attend golbeins animation workshop

buy an obnoxiously large rug

smell the tomford cherry perfume

get a Brazilian wax

get henna done

go to Brisbane museum by myself

get my i.d

go wine tasting

visit Miami

Meet my online best friend

dine at the ritz

go on a gameshow

do tent camping

win a sweepstake

create a artist porfolio/website

be featured in a gallery

go to okinawa

learn to ballroom dance

ride a horse on a beach/ and or backwards

go to a country club

bake a pie

buy a tourist t-shirt

do a escape room

live in Santa Barbara

stay in cape cod

belly dancing class

get my art viral on tiktok

do a commision

buy a fancy wardrobe

have a room with a slanted roof

sleep in a pool in an inflatable pool

snuggle with nurse sharks

bayonetta mui mui glasses.

go out in a pair of high heels

do a show at a convention

stay at the madonna inn

do lesbian handkerchief flagging in public

do a 'nude' photoshoot

own every sims 4 pack

complete a sims4 generations challenge

play subnautica

swim a motel pool at night

pick a girl from a bar

get a drinks bought for me

smoke a ciggrette

try mixology

get a hickey

have a friend or myself sew vintage patterns

wear a tailored suit

buy real cowgirl boots

bathe in a heart shaped tub

take a rose petal bath

stick a polaroid of myself somewhere public

use spray paint

do a vintage glamour competition

own a house with stain glass windows

go to a cathedral

get pink lace curtains

paint a room

milk a cow

replay Detriot become human

do a live stream

do a lesbian event like a cruise or smth

go to a pride parade

participate on a float in a parade

be a scare actor

act in a play

see a broadway show

shoot a gun

drive a convertible

see lana del rey in concert

do modelling work

do a commercial

buy a sewing machine

drive the road without directions

write a screenplay

submit a film for a competition

pitch an animated show

take a opportunity that scares me

do public karaoke

buy a shitty 2000s camera

get a boat license

buy a boat

go to a random diner

sell clothes on depop

play a drinking game with mates

stay in a hotel with mates

do a draw my life

do a drawing for each section of my Pinterest board

get my fortune told/ future read

buy some mega flare jeans

post a picture of myself to Pinterest/ start a 'me' board

buy some colorful tights

get blue streaks through my blonde hair like aquamarine

drop in on a skateboard

buy a castle

party at Hearst castle

post another fanfic to ao3

dress up in a slutty Halloween costume,its a rite of passage

bake and decorate a fancy cake for someone

#my bucket list #coquette #lesbian

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yikesharringrove · 2 years

Text

Okay fuckers episode 5.

The sound design of this season is the best of all the seasons. They’ve taken some cues from the soundtrack of horror movies and I think they’ve created a soundscape that’s super intriguing.

Stranger things has a habit of going for body horror and gore and just. Not hitting the mark. They don’t make it gross enough or they don’t really take the time to show the damage. Like the kid that gets vecna’d over the water, they don’t relish those scenes of his body being fucked is when they should. I want these people to be having videodrome or re-animator level fucked up deaths.

(Merlin and I spent hours last night talking abt this and we were both saying season 3 would’ve been totally improved by upping the disgust factor in the meat monster by having it LOOK like it was made of body parts. Like if there were recognizable limbs and shit or if the characters made comments on the rotten horrifying smell of it. Think Tusk)

I also am just sick of cgi. What makes old school horror movies so scary and revolting is how real practical effects look. I know you can’t really crumple someone up like Vecna does without creating a fake body and that’s expensive and difficult, but it looks so much better

I’m still loving the scary vibes, especially the haunted house kinda thing but I just really really miss the season 1 low budget b horror energy. The show has lost all the things that made it really stand out to me as something exciting in the beginning

Notes:

I literally dread the moment someone in the California gang suggests going to Utah. It’s probably to use Suzie’s radio and I’m gonna throw up when they cross that state line.

Why is el constantly wearing like twelve layers of clothing

Idk this Nina project thing is giving me bad vibes

NO FUCKING WAY

Dude Bren we was fucking killed WHAT is going on I don’t need this I don’t want this

This man makes my fucking skin crawl “let us work together, daughter and papa” BITCH EW

Bro how many times is this child gonna be traumatized before I can sleep again????

Let hopper rest challenge

“I have a family, I have three kids waiting for me” YES YOU DO, JOYCE. THREE OF THEM I’m getting emosh

Eddie slamming his way through this house like he isn’t a murder suspect

NOT STEVE CURLED UP ON THAT CHAIR LIKE A LITTLE KITTY I love him I love him he’s perfect in every way someone please send me a high res photo of this (and I ignore my dirty laptop screen)

“Cold beer would really calm my jangled nerves”

Lmao Ted telling these kids to fuck off

Max literally listening to ONLY kate bush and ridiculous volumes that’s the vibe

HOLLY IS SO FUCKING GROWN WHAT

Loving Max’s shitty art skills

“Maybe the answer is somewhere in this incredibly vague drawing. God, we need Will.” I actually love this. How wills drawings were so important to figuring shit out in season 2 and max is trying to use that same process but she’s terrible at art bc she’s just a person love this I don’t know why it’s just making my heart happy

Nancy origami-ing this house together. Lowkey would’ve lost my shit if that had been Steve putting it all together. He needs a moment to be smart and I think something visual like this could really be in his wheelhouse. I’m gonna do a fic where it’s Steve that puts it all together

Also bc I could totally see him and tommy and Carol daring each other to go into the Creel house and shit (Ted bundy had a house in my home town and we used to dare each other to go to the porch and knock on the door and shit and Hawkins kids would totally be the same)

WAIT DID THEY SHAVE ELS HEAD AGAIN OR IS THIS A FLASHBACK??? I hate flashback story telling it’s so fucking confusing gd

Is this a truama response? I guess. Bro idk what’s going on

What is with those weird little shoes the older kids have on?

Okay this plastic face bitch needs to get out of my face I literally can’t stay him he’s like fucking Michael Langdon I wanna punch him

STOP calling her sleepyhead I can’t deal

I’m kind of here for this sucked up time loop though

NOT THESE FRUITS BURYING A BODY

Will is literally using a hoe to dig he’s a nightmare

Obsessed with argyle’s very real reaction

Lmao D.A.R.E. Officer will

I KNEW something was gonna be hidden in the pen these guys suck

Some of these Russian guys are super hot and for WHAT

WAIT SO MUCH OF WHAT I HEADCANONED FOR HOPPERS BACKSTORY WAS JUST MADE CANON him fighting in Vietnam (I mean that obv) but it being spurred on by his shitty father that ‘thinks he’s a piece of shit’ I mean. I’ve written shit where billy and hop bind over their fucked up dads and the way we REALLY could’ve had hop seeing through Billy’s facade I’m gonna scream

This agent orange story is so so fucked up and the way that this is REAL are you kidding? I’m freaking out

Oh rip Sarah

THEY DO NEED YOU HOP AND YOU NEED THEM IT GOES BOTH WAYS

I’m gonna cry omg

Oh Christ Chrissy’s mom can fuck RIGHT off

I have to say the music they use when someone sees the clock, and the chimes are like bassed up and slowed it’s really cool

Jason needs to fuck off i fucking can’t with him

Stupid fucking Jason writing reefer ricks instead of reefer rick’s

“Should I knock? See if anybody’s home?” Steve you just pried off the wood that was keeping this place boarded up

“I found a key” queen of chaos robin Buckley

Thank god Steve has the limbs of a giraffe so someone in this group could reach the knob

Okay but Steve’s blank look when Dustin “do you need to be told everything? You’re not a child”joe keery sometimes just goes so dead in the eyes sometimes and it’s my favorite thing in the world

Also “thank you” “you’re welcome” he’s my baby boy I love him

“Why’s this wizard obsessed with clocks?” Idk Steve why am I obsessed with you? Sometimes people are just obsessed with things

Let Steve hit Dustin over the head like real brothers would challenge

“Why’d you sigh?” “I didn’t sigh, just come on dude” love Steve playing this off like it wasn’t the biggest most dramatic sigh in the whole world

We had a very similar lamp in my childhood home lol

THIS CONVO ABOUT MURRAY’S KARATE CLASS IM OBSESSED Jeremiah is my new favorite side character

If I have to hear this whore say “well well…” I’m gonna go on a murder spree

These flashes between cgi little el and old el is making my vertigo act up

“Good morning children” “good morning Miss Hannigan”

Brenner can choke on the biggest fattest dick

Sensory deprivation tanks are one of my biggest fears ngl

Argyle is the queer that can’t drive we all needed in this show

no. No no no no NO olease DONT please don’t

They showed that map of Utah and I ralphed

Will singing never ending story lub him

Eddie looks like if Alex Horne and Erin mcgehey had a child

This fucker that wears a trucker hat everywhere, even while wearing a suit is such a douchebag jock vibe I love

Why do NONE of my green colored pencils function FUCK

“If there’s a spider nesting in there you’re never gonna find it u too it lays eggs and all the babies spill out” ROBIN PLEASE

I love Steve constantly being like “we’re friends we’re friends we’re friends” and saying how he WOULD date robin but she wouldn’t date him. I hate that he and Nancy are sniffing around one another but he makes it very clear that he doesn’t think he’s too good for Robin or that she’s not attractive, but that she actually wants nothing more than platonic with him without outing her. I just think it’s very sweet

STEVE STARTED TO TRY TO QUOTE THE SHERLOCK HOLMES QUOTE DUSTIN SAID QND I HAD TO LEAVE THE ROOM HES SO EMBARRASSING

And then he just walks away he’s such a baby such a baby

Kate bush will NEVER lose her magic powers that wuthering heights video is fucking amazing

Lucas being a lil dork I’m so so glad he’s a real character again after last season

I think the sound design is my favorite of all the seasons. The clock noise is cool and the way they’re using running up that hill to play quietly and distorted in certain scenes is really interesting

This whole flashback is like some umbrella academy rip off shit

Not them vying for brenners pocket taffy

Anytime this gross waxwork lookin bitch speaks I am filled with unspeakable rage

Bro where’s Kali in all these flashbacks??? I’ve been honking that since the beginning that first flashback really bothered me bc of all the kids besides 11 were killed how did Kali survive/did she escape earlier than that when she was like 4???? I hate it

“My fingers are like arrows!” The theatre if it all what a whore I love Murray

The karate has really payed off good for you dude

And then Murray and Joyce were frozen for sixty years like captain America

Yes Steve being the Scooby gang leader for five seconds loml

Eddie I promise you can paddle faster than he can swim

If Vecna can fuck with the flashlights he could totally fuck with the Walkman too

Lmao Eddie falling overboard

Good job girl FUCK brenner I hate him I hate him

Why did they reshave els head??? I don’t get it and bc it’s a wig it makes her head look oddly shaped

“Papa” “daughter” 🤢

#also I just tried to spell apocalypse as ‘apocylyspse’ so that’s how my nights going #yikes talks #st4 #stranger things spoiler #strangerthingsspoilers #I’m probably gonna stop tagging spoilers come Friday since it’ll be 2 weeks since release

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harpyhottie · 2 years

Text

Horror Connoisseur // Eddie Munson Fic

Uh so myself, like many others, have an Eddie Munson hyperfixation because I cannot consume media in a normal manner. So enjoy ig.

Eddie Munson x femreader

Word count: 3k

1/?

Summary: Your friends went off to college after graduating, leaving you behind in Hawkins to work a lame job while still living at your parents house. Your mom didn't let you borrow the car for your shift so you're dreading the walk home until your last customer offers you a ride home.

Warnings: profanity

You tapped your fingers against the counter at your job. As a graduate, it was decided that you had to start pulling your own weight if you weren’t planning on leaving for college anytime soon. Your graduation party was weird, you could only fake smile and agree so many times when your aunts, uncles, neighbors, and parents’ friends told you that it wasn’t too late to send in an application for the semester. So you were in that weird existence of having the freedom of the world yet were still living with your parents. Even though you were an adult, you were still at the mercy of whether your mom decided to let you borrow the car or not. Unfortunately for you tonight, she chose no, and you were dropped off for your six hour shift at Family Video, where neither Robin nor Steve were scheduled. To make matters worse, there was no ride back home as your younger sibling had a basketball game. You got out of work at 9, but this was basically light-years away. Rolling your eyes, your current task was to reorganize the returned tapes pile. What a nightmare.

Hours passed as you begrudgingly put movies in alphabetical order on the shelves, something that didn’t need to be done but boredom drove you to desperate measures. It was unusually slow this shift and you glanced at the clock. 8:26 pm. Freedom was so close. The handful of customers today were just the usual suspects: kids with too much time on their hands, young couples who couldn’t decide on a movie, and parents that were looking to distract their children during sleepovers. While you were excited for the shift to be over, there was still one problem that was on your mind; you still had to walk home. While this wasn’t a particularly difficult task, it was a particularly cold day. Plus the sun had gone down hours ago and the sky was lonely without its moon. You’d have to walk close to the streetlights for safety. You were regretting playing Nightmare on Elm Street on the store T.V.

Deciding to be brave, you just sighed and accepted your fate. So what if you were murdered? It’s not like anything else was going on. Your inner monologue was interrupted by the booming of a shitty car speaker. The headlights of the vehicle shined through the front door and you were too wrapped up in your thoughts to even look up as the bell door jingled. Feeling weird that you were just idly standing by, you decided to make it look like you were doing something productive. You planted yourself by a shelf and pretended to work, counting down the seconds that the customer would leave and you could stare at the wall again. But out of the corner of your eye you spied on the man standing in the horror section. His face was concentrated as he thumbed through numerous titles. Your eyes lingered on his rings, then his curled hair, then the familiar vest that he wore. You knew him! Eddie Munson! You had a class with him, 3rd period science, you sat in front of him. Were even paired with him for a project that you ended up doing 70% of the work for. But he was funny, you remember, super funny. And his smile was genuine. But then he heard he wasn’t walking at graduation yet again and he stopped showing up in the last month of the semester, which was a shame because you didn’t see him at any other point at school.

Just then, the music blared on the T.V. as Krueger showed his ugly face yet again in a jumpscare. Startled, you jumped and wiped out the romantic comedy section while yelling.

“Fuck!”

Oh nice going you moron. Immediately you were flustered for acting like such a spaz.

“Uh, you need help?”

“No, no, it’s all good.”

“Dude. There’s, like, a shit ton of movies on the floor.”

Your face was red with embarrassment. Usually you were able to skate by for shifts but you were jumpy for some reason. Your body was nervous for something that your brain had not yet recognized. He set some tapes on the counter as he came to the rescue. It was always so awkward to see a classmate out of school, especially one you weren’t friends with. Should you say hi? Should you ignore the fact that you know them and delete them from your memory, effectively acting like they never existed? The second was your go-to and you were going to just nod in acknowledgement as he helped you then go in the back room to scream silently. But he was not going to let you do that.

“Hey, I know you,” he said with a grin while pointing at you. “Yeah, yeah, Science! With that dipshit Mr. O’Connell. Damn I do not miss that school. But am I right? I’m right.”

You nodded. Why was he deviating from your personal script! You already planned out what the interaction would be! He’d silently help you, you’d ring him up and then you would prepare to fight for your life walking in the dark, most certainly screaming and crying the entire run home. He stared at you for a moment.

“I never forget a face, but I kinda do forget names, what was yours again?”

You told him and he then nodded and slapped his forehead.

“Damn, I was close! Didn’t mean to erase ya from my head. Think all the pot is finally rotting my brain,” he said as he pantomimed blood oozing from his ears as you giggled. You finished cleaning the tapes and took your place behind the counter to check him out, both literally and figuratively. He was taller than you remembered and his rings clacked against the counter as he rested his hand, the other subtly fixing his hair. His sleeves were rolled up to expose the tattoos on his forearm. Hot, you thought.

“So, you a connoisseur of horror as well?”

You scanned his stack of movies. The Shining, Invasion of the Body Snatchers, The Thing. Yep, he was definitely a connoisseur of horror. You shrugged and waved your hand in a manner that said ‘kinda.’

“So what’s your favorite flick then?”

He folded his arms and leaned towards the counter, both elbows touching the surface. He waited for your answer, a slight smile forming. Honestly, he was making you more nervous than any horror movie ever could.

“I don’t have one.”

“You don’t have one?! Lies. Everyone has one or they’re lying.” He rolled his eyes as you scoffed.

“I’ll get an answer out of you one day,” he said, swiping up his tapes and heading towards the door. “Holy shit, it’s cold. Might be a blizzard coming up.”

Your heart dropped. Great.

“That sucks! I have to walk home in this shit.”

He went to leave then stopped and turned around with a confused look on his face.

“Wait what? Walk? Out there?”

You nodded and told him about not having the car today but waved it off as being totally fine.

“Dude! It’s cold as hell out there. Or, uh, hell isn’t really that cold but you know what I’m saying. You’d have to be stoned to think you wouldn’t die of hypothermia or something.”

You told him you brought a jacket and gloves.

“Pshh. No way am I letting a former classmate of mine walk home. I’ll drive you.”

You froze. In all your years of life a boy had never offered to drive you home. This was earth-shattering. This was jaw-dropping. Your parents would die twice if they saw the guy, the accused satanist slash high school dropout roll up to your house with the music blaring and you jumping out of the passenger seat. Not only that, but just the thought of riding with this guy was making you sweat standing in the ice cold store. It was a scenario that not even the fates could have foreseen. But, you were game. Just half an hour you accepted that you might die on your walk home. If you were going to die, you would almost certainly want your last moments spent in the arms of Eddie, the freak of Hawkins.

“But I still have 20 minutes left of my shift.”

“Cool, that’s a 20 minute smoke break. I’ll be outside,” he said as he exited the store. For a couple of minutes you were expecting him to drive off. He’d laugh to himself as he pranked you, remembering the hopeful look on your face as you accepted his offer. But he didn’t. He just…stayed there. You saw him through the frosted doors take a cigarette out of his pocket and saw the glow of the flame from the lighter. Then you began to panic.

Fuck! Fuck! You were going to get a ride from a guy and you weren’t even sure how to act. Your social battery was pretty much shot. He’d have to lead the conversation. What would he even talk about? Oh god, what if he talked about some girl and you had to just sit and listen. Oh god, what if he asked if you had a boyfriend. Now you were circling around the back room, head in your hands until you stopped for a moment. Let’s calm down. Boyfriend? Girlfriend? Chill dude, you just talked to him for 5 minutes and you’re sure he’s in love with you? Delusional. Let's be rational. He’s just a guy, innocently offering a ride. A ride to you, a girl, who has never had a boyfriend or even a boy interested in you and you’re going to be alone in a car with him in the dark and okay now you’re panicking again. Chill.

Your internal meltdown actually ate up a bit of time. The clock read 8:51 pm and you decided that the store could survive being closed a couple minutes early, especially after your manager complained that the foot traffic stopped after the sun went down. You finished up the housekeeping and switched off Elm Street with a middle finger. Fuck you Freddy. You went to your locker to retrieve your things and eyed yourself in the mirror next to the bulletin board where Robin and Steve had requested the day off. You fluffed your hair a little. The stupid hairspray you decided to gamble on was a total waste of $8. Quickly, you put a bit of gloss on your mouth but not too much because what if he wondered why your lips were randomly shiny. For extra measure you put another piece of gum in your mouth to extra smell like spearmint. Actually it was kind of overpowering but nevermind that, just put on your coat and stop staring at yourself in the mirror before he really does leave.

Locking the door to the store, you turned around to find the guy giving you a ride, even preparing a funny little quip to say to him. But he wasn’t there. His car wasn’t on either. You felt a little spooked.

“Eddie?” You said cautiously. The only explanation was that he was kidnapped by someone while waiting for you. You weren’t built for that kind of guilt upon your shoulders. As you walked around his van, he jumped out and screamed. You screamed as well and hit him with your bag as he braced against his car while laughing.

“Oh that was, you should have seen, oh wow.”

You put your hands on your hips and stared at him expectantly.

“Oh okay fine, I’m sorry. Except I’m not.”

“With an apology that sincere, I have no choice but to accept.”

He opened the van door and motioned you inwards. Then he climbed into the driver's seat and scrambled to pick up the trash, a bit embarrassed. Fast food bags, candy wrappers, cans, even a hot dog laid bare on the floor.

“Sorry, uh, that’s my emergency hot dog for uh, when I get too hungry,” he said before flinging it into the parking lot.

“But your emergency hot dog?!” you yelled as it rolled numerous times.

“It’s okay, I know where it is, one of many excuses to come back here.”

You weren’t sure if that was a hint or something but it made you quiet and stare straight ahead. You’re. In. His. CAR. Stay calm, cool, and collected.

“So what kind of tunes are you thinking? I’ve got many moods. Like angry, angry, and angry.”

“Hmm. I like angry, but angry is really calling my name.” He chuckled at your response.

“So it does, so it does.”

A bit of the ride was driven in silence while the music played. You could tell he’d glance over at you but you didn’t dare return it. His confidence was so alluring and the way he was looking at you felt so not platonic. You heard odd things about him but you were also thinking odd things about him that you felt if you pondered on for more than a couple of moments he’d somehow read your mind.

“So why are you so nervous? Is it me? I mean I get it.” He continued to drive at an obscene speed and when you told him your address earlier, he assured you that he knew where it was. But 3 missed turns said otherwise and you didn’t really feel like correcting him.

“Like, the hell are you supposed to do when the town pariah offers you a ride? It’s gotta be weird. I wasn’t thinking you’d accept. Usually girls try not to talk to me, which, understandable. I’m utterly insufferable.” You both laughed as he finished speaking. You debated diving into your personal life but it felt comfortable enough to say.

“My friends actually stopped talking to me after graduation. They’re all moved into university. No post cards, no calls. They’re all busy. So it’s nice to be talked to, even by the town pariah.” You decided to be a little more bold.

“And girls run from you? Why? You’re like,” you fumbled the delivery a bit but tried again.“You’re totally good looking and funny! So what if you’re considered a weirdo. It’s even lamer to conform. You have your own style.”

He stayed silent for a bit, trying to think about what to say. Maybe you were a bit too bold.

“Wow. You totally want me!”

“No that’s not what I said!” you said laughing while burying your face into your hands. You kinda walked yourself into that.

“No you definitely want to ride the Eddie rollercoaster, well get in line baby. The park closes at 10 pm.” You rolled your eyes as he rambled on. You slapped him on the shoulder and he rolled down his window as he drove slowly through a neighborhood.

“I’m a wanted man,” he sang mockingly to the houses as you shook your head. A porch light came on.

“Oh hell,” he said as he sped out of the area, an old man opening his front door and shaking his fist towards disrespectful youth. Eddie turned up the music so loud that it blared, effectively disrupting the rest of the neighborhood and sang along. You looked at him with your ears covered and screamed along with him.

After a bit of driving around, you checked your watch, noticing that it was nearly 10:30. Your parents definitely thought you were dead.

“Not to spoil the fun but I’ve gotta get home or else my mom is gonna freak.”

“You break my heart, it’s shattered into a million pieces.”

“Yeah yeah. By the way, you passed my street so many times. You said you knew where I lived!”

“Oh I do, maybe I just wanted to have a conversation, I’m lonely you know.”

“So your solution was to kidnap me? That’ll hold up in court.”

“Maybe don’t get in the car with a stranger.”

“We’re not strangers!”

“Oh right, I forgot that you’re madly in love with me.”

You groaned in exasperation. You were out of clever retorts, he drained you of all of them. He turned the music way down as if he were anticipating you to yell at him to do so. The van creaked slowly towards your house and he put it in park. You looked at your house, confused by the lack of lights on. You were expecting your dad to fly out and berate you then take one look at Eddie and berate him too. But there was none of that, and then you remembered that they would be staying out of town with your sibling since the basketball game was actually a tournament. Which meant that you could stay out with Eddie. Or if you really wished, he could come inside. But you had enough of feeling nervous for one night and could use a breather. Beside you, the seat shifted as he put his arm on the back of your seat. He subtly checked you out while he thought you wouldn’t notice.

“No really, I’d love to sit in your driveway all night while you stare silently at your house. Not creepy at all.”

You shot him a dirty look as you opened the door and were shocked that your legs felt like jelly and hoped he didn’t notice. You cleared your throat and thanked him for the ride home and he waved his arm as if to say it was no problem.

“Honestly, it was the... coolest night I’ve had in a while. My friends don’t really talk to me much either; the whole dropout thing doesn’t mix well with college students but whatever. I got all these movies to keep me company. Better yet, call me if you want to be lonely together. Oh and don't think that you're getting out of the horror movie question.”

You closed the passenger door and waved goodbye to him. He scrawled a phone number onto a wrapper and passed it to you. A part of you wanted to fake crumple it up in front of him but you didn’t. You smirked as you walked down the path to your house and unlocked your door, safe and sound. Taking a big sigh, you flopped onto your living room couch face down. You smiled again because you realized that you had a reason to talk to him again. The both of you were so enthralled in conversation that you never rang him up for the tapes and he left without paying. So much for the store inventory tomorrow, you had the day off anyways.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x you #st4 #stranger things 4 #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson x fem!reader #stranger things fic

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moistvonlipwig · 2 years

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1/2 "It’s almost like the main draw of the Teen Wolf movie in Paramount’s eyes is… wait for it… the teen wolf. Scott McCall" LMFAO sure Jan! No one is going to watch the Teen Wolf Movie for Posey's right reasons (aka himself and his shitty character Scott McCall) They'll only watch for Derek and his son, the actual teen wolf. Paramount knows that, that's why they offered Hoechlin more money than Posey despite Derek only having a cameo, but rejected Posey's demands.

2/2 Also: Scott is a creepy grown ass man hanging around teens and playing lacrosse despite being in his 30s 🥴 He's not a teen, least of all the titular teen wolf of the movie

All right, this is the last ask about the Teen Wolf movie I'm answering. Send any further and I will ignore them. And possibly turn off anon.

Look. The general audience is not fandom. The general audience has nothing against Scott, Allison, Lydia, I don't even know who else is in this damn movie because, again, I don't intend to watch it. Your section of fandom might by and large tune in for Derek, but fandom is not reflective of the majority of Teen Wolf viewers. Teen Wolf has an audience besides Stiles and Derek fans and Sterek shippers. They like the show. They like the other characters. They know nothing of your weird vendetta against Scott. They like to see werewolves play lacrosse. Paramount knows this. That is why they are making a Teen Wolf movie and not a Derek-only movie.

And since when is Scott in his 30s??? And if he is going to be in his 30s in the movie (which I didn't know because again I don't intend to watch it), who says he's "creepy"??? You haven't SEEN the movie yet. It is possible to be an adult and be a positive mentor and friend figure to teenagers without being creepy in the slightest. You know who actually WAS a creepy grown ass man hanging around teens? Derek Hale. And I love him for it, it was hilarious watching him creep around a high school he had no business being in. But this is yet another example of you projecting the white characters' flaws onto Scott with absolutely no evidence that he shares those flaws.

But again. I don't intend to watch this movie. I don't know why you're so intent on sending me asks about it. If you'd like to talk to me about the actual show that I've actually watched (up to the end of S5, anyway), then feel free. Otherwise, I think we're done here.

#seriously enough about the teen wolf movie #the bite is a gift #teen wolf fandom problems

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finsterhund · 1 year

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Liveblog kinda I guess?

Someone recommended I watch the horror movie "Come Play" (2020) because "that's basically you" and yeah ten minutes in and this is pretty much exactly what 2010s Cayden embodiment would be. Except pure and not deranged lmaoooo.

So far this seems to be a more typical horror movie so it's more of an "eat snacks and try to guess when a jump scare is happening" experience which is usually what I watch. It's serviceable if generic. Not really bringing anything new to the table or being too interesting. I've been focusing a lot on artsy indie horror of late so it's good to change things up and go back into something knowing it's not going to completely flood my brain. It's nice to have neurodivergent kid protagonist representation that doesn't turn the kid into a source of "ooooh scary" for the sake of "disability weird and creepy" either. I kept bracing for "autism scary" but they never resorted to that.

Jealous of the cool house he lives in. This is quickly becoming a pattern.

The picture book monster designs are straight up spectres. I swear to fuck. If the little common spectres could grow up I guess. I want the in-universe book as like a hardcover or something it's cute. Can't tell if it's a ploy or if it's really a heartfelt monster friend yet. That's the fun of it. Could be either OR BOTH. I'd love to see that more in things. Where a supernatural creature is a predator with hunting instincts but it's not evil and will potentially under ideal circumstances be able to pack bond with humans who are otherwise a prey item.

Not gonna lie thinking about it now having it being central to the plot of a movie I am somewhat jealous of the availability of digital speaking devices possible with today's technology. I would have been far more articulate if I had something like that when my selective mutism was at its worst. May have made it easier for me to break into the wider world. Get more of a headstart. Saying that though the movie is quick to remind that neurotypicals can be fucking mean and stupid about accessibility tools. Not to go on and bash neurotypicals for seven hours straight but people get so fucking weird about this sort of thing. Call us unable to adapt to things but can't just roll with it when it comes to fairly cut and dry extensions of the self.

By the time I finally had an assistance device (first laptop) it was in high school and everyone learned to mind their own fucking business. I'd get chewed out by the occasional teacher but they quickly discovered I can't write for shit and that it was the only possible way I could take notes.

I'm expecting the "phone bad" plot to be stupid and drag my experience down but we will see.

I'm not liking the parents very much but how much of that is personal bias I cannot say. I may just be very stressed at the moment and projecting onto characters I know next to nothing about yet. The mom seems ok but the dad has a classic case of the "not really being there in equal measure as the mom is" that might imply worse.

Props to how you can really hear the parent's opinions and the learned ableism through the kid in Oliver's class whinging about how he gets "special treatment" for having use of a phone for accessibility. It really sounds like the sort of stuff you just know the kid is parroting from their shitty parent. The teacher could have handled it better than making it about that kid doing something to not deserve his phone as a toy. Should have instead been explaining that Oliver literally needs his for accessibility. But a lot of the time that is how these situations are mishandled by well-meaning but otherwise incorrect neurotypicals. The "clap back" at the kid who played Fortnite on his phone rather than explaining that the nonverbal kid uses his as a TOOL. and that's what's different.

The scene where the one kid from the bully's group lures Oliver with surface niceness just to get him away from prying eyes so their group can berate him is perfectly illustrated also. Because yeah they know to superficially not bully someone with disabilities, they know how to play nice, and the whole "pretending to be your friend to fuck with you" shit was very prevalent. I like how despite this being handled well it's not overly triggering like it could be.

God watching this just makes me wish we could have grown up together. This is a fictional fucking character but I know what he's going through so much and it's just not fair.

A lot of the spooky shit is interesting and isn't overdone visuals. Like the part with the papers in the car park. The camera filter scene also got me too. Because I am scared of cameras and the dark and faces. 🙃 The movie doesn't have deep psychological environmentally impressive fear building but the simple jump scares don't feel shitty either. It's basic for a horror movie but inoffensive.

Also I was right in the beginning to feel sus about the parents. They're having fights about Oliver and the mom is going on about how much she wishes she could "get rid of that part of him" so that she "wouldn't have to deal with it" as if it isn't literally a facet of who he is. The dad responds that it wouldn't be him then. The mom I swear to fuck I hate her. Shut the hell up "you have any idea what it's like for your own child to never look you in the eyes?" Bitch shut up. The kid doesn't feel comfortable with eye contact it's one little fucking thing to you but it's really significant issues for him. The mom is going on about how he apparently loves the dad but hates her. Oh I don't know autism warrior mom Karen perhaps he is able to tell and feel the way you talk and think about him? Like this? Right now? And that's why he doesn't feel comfortable or safe around you? Do you magically think he doesn't understand or feel the energy and vibes you emit about him? He's autistic, not mindless. For fucks sake. You think because he doesn't do things the way you think is the only way to do them he isn't able to at all? Gah. The dad being less present in his life is a double edged sword. Negative in that he could be there more for him but positive in the fact that when he is there he isn't a fucking bitch. Of course the kid is going to like him more. (I am taking this too personally I realize but jesus christ does this really hit at a sore spot)

"Larry" communicating with the same speech program Oliver uses is supposed to be creepy. They have him looking shocked and play suspense chords but I just think it's sweet. They're able to use the same aid and it's probably the first time Oliver has really had that sense of familiarity. I know that this is a monster and it's probably gonna try to eat him or something but so far the literal spectre ass looking demon thing has been more compassionate, respectful, considerate, and willing to be accessible to Oliver than any other major character. It's just scary and from another dimension. It feels like the monster is an allegory for having a disability that you're ostracized for.

Fucking screaming at the mom planning get togethers with the bully just because she's friends with his mom. Again, this is a common thing and it doesn't work out anywhere near as much as it should for parents to keep doing. But the mom being a fucking shit I realize she's likely never going to intentionally try to go out and find other disabled and/or neurodivergent kids to introduce Oliver to. These sorts of parents hope their kid will find "normal" friends that will make them "more normal" they already have to "suffer" "dealing with" their disabled kid they're not going to want to care for his peers too. 😔

The mom fucking going "can you try and have some fun for me?" You are literally forcing your kid to hang out with someone they don't want to, that I'm giving you the benefit of the doubt in assuming you aren't aware is bullying him. You are taking away what little autonomy he has in his life at the present. God. And the cherry on top is him leaving a situation that's uncomfortable to him (terrified his phone is possessed) and the mom of course assumes it's all about her, that he's avoiding her.

God the bully's whole friend group gets invited to the sleepover and the literal first interaction I see of the bully's mom with him is her joking about how she wants to get rid of him and load him off on Oliver's mom. Just casually joking about not wanting to be around your son to his face. That's lovely.

Christ the bully's mom asking Oliver's mom if she can say hi to him. As if he's her pet and not his own person. 😬 100% why the bully is like this.

CHRIST THE BULLY KIDS WERE LIKE "WHYS HE BEING WEIRD?" AND BEFORE THE BULLY'S MOM CAN TELL HIM OFF OLIVER'S MOM SAYS "ITS OKAY" I want Larry to kill this fuck so bad. She then goes on to explain stimming... I guess. The fact that the moms are talking about his personal developmental milestones also just right in front of him and the other kids. Man for fucks sake stop it. Can you at least make the effort to pretend to give him a level of privacy and dignity?

It's really hard at times to not want the bully kids to get got by the monster lol. Sometimes their lines make it clear they're just wildly misinformed and other times there's that level of cruelty that I still don't know where some kids get it from and other times they're behaving a bit too "adult wrote the lines" bully cliche.

Larry being described as pale when he's been depicted until this point as corpse-black threw me for a loop. Was hoping this wouldn't end up being another pasty white "rake-esque" creature. It got old fast lol

I get the feeling that if the bullies don't die they're gonna end up friends with Oliver through shared trauma. Jokes on you nobody's getting out of this neurotypical.

Yeah the "real life" Larry design is just uninspired copy of the rake. The visual effects are good but man.

I don't get why they blamed Oliver for that shit with the book though. Like they witnessed all the bulbs go and the creepy ebook and the table move on its own. What do they think he's got telekinesis or something? What happened really doesn't seem like something they'd all collectively make up the same story to blame on him. If that actually happened they'd be going on about ghosts or some shit surely? Frustrated me and I had to pause for a bit.

Have yet to see "phone bad" at all and maybe they won't do that. But the mom is a sack of shit so don't hold your breath.

God the mom thinking he did it. Yeah I'm sure your kid did all that with his mind. Of course.

Also next day at school one of the bully kids has a chew stim????? He's never shown with one before. He's only got it now that their ringleader is absent from school? Which shows I guess that they join him in picking on the more obviously neurodivergent kid to try and prevent him from targeting them as well? Sadly a realistic thing that happens also. Bully kid is clearly traumatized so I guess my joke about nobody leaving this story neurotypical is coming true to some extent. Then he confesses it wasn't Oliver but the Larry entity. The weird thing is the mom believes now too because she was in the house when it again started fucking with shit but even though it's shown to have control over the house she zeros in on the tablet. Eventually the dad finally takes Oliver and immediately he's a better parent. Brought him to his job at a toll booth car park and encourages him to participate and explains to him aspects of the job that make it accessible. Saying that you can watch cartoons when you're not dealing with customers. I feel he means well.

Find it funny that everyone's immediate first reaction to the Larry book showing up randomly is to read it. And read it aloud. Oh neat a spooky monster kids book is on this ipad. Gonna read it out loud. I've got nothing better to do.

Again, the different ways they show that the invisible entity is in the physical world and where/how it's moving is pretty cool. The cameras, the laser sight measurement tool, THE STICKY HAND. The use of the sticky hand is GOATed

This fucking speech therapist is bringing up PHYSICAL EMPATHS. Aka pseudoscience. Being like "the reason you are also experiencing this creature from Oliver's imagination is because you love him very much" which is bullshit because 1. she fucking doesn't. 2. The closest observed condition that this could even remotely be compared to is Folie à Deux. There is no fucking basis of "empaths" as having psychosomatic reactions like this in real life wtfffffff. Everyone in this movie except for the goddamn monster and kinda the dad is absent incompetent negligent or stupid to the point of infuriating ineptitude in being there for Oliver. Christ. Then this stupid fucking mom is like "oh I destroyed *that* device. As if the problem was a single thing and not idk. It did stuff in your fucking house. What is the logic of this!? They even discussed how Oliver has been using multiple screens for so and so long period of time wtffffff

Oh I fucking knew it was the bully kid's mom who was why he turned out that way. The reveal felt so validating. These poor kids. The bitch tricked her kid into thinking Oliver hated him and turned him against him. Jesus Christ. Felt so gratifying when they realized and made up. She is now the character I want to die the most. Second is Oliver's mom obviously.

The later parts of the Larry book make it clear that the monster is at the very least possessive and will kill those who get in its way but still no confirmation if it has ulterior motives to making friends. It looks like it's just really possessive and lonely. Are they trying to set it up as being evil???

The scene with the streetlights going off behind the car is sick af. God. Too bad Larry himself the real world version sucks. Got a closeup of his face and it's just not working for me as a design. Took the mom way too long to realize that this thing wasn't tied to just the one tablet. The way it talks by skipping channels to different words is a neat concept but ruins the mystery of it. Okay Larry you go and villain monologue to the mom through the TV. That's great. Finally we get to the "phone bad"-ism where "everyone's so lonely looking at their screens all the time that it literally created Larry out of their loneliness" man wtf. If you love someone who's in another continent go fuck yourself I guess. You're actually lonely. You don't have real relationship through the screen. Never mind the fact that the main character is literally only so reliant on electronics because it's his fucking accessibility device. He is using it to communicate in person. God they didn't think this through. Also this movie literally came out in 2020 I think Larry being born is small potatoes compared to the obvious alternative of everyone dying from a certain pandemic. Hmmm 😬

I was really hoping it wouldn't pull a "phone bad" but somehow it held off on doing so and then did so in a way that's somehow worse.

God the mom being like "Larry is lonely? How do you think I would feel if Larry took Oliver?" Always making it about you. Not to mention the fact that you treat him bad and talk shit about him and say that he doesn't love you as much as his father because he won't overstep his own personal boundaries for your benefit. Everything you've done and said up until this point would indicate that you'd enjoy your life better if it did just go and take Oliver.

God the mom is something else. running around like a chicken with its head cut off grabbing every screen in sight in the house and yeeting it out the door when the obvious solution is to take Oliver somewhere else. Then when I think it won't get any worse she's unscrewing all the fucking lightbulbs. Making a racket. Oliver is having a meltdown and the bitch screams at him "can't you just be normal for one second" oh I dunno. You're acting like a complete mindless stupid dumb animal right now, assuming it's because you're stressed. Maybe have some of that fucking "you love him so much empathy" the speech therapist thinks you have for once and understand that he's stressed and scared out of his mind. The irony that Oliver has handled everything better than her is obvious to seemingly everyone except her and the writer. Ugh.

Saw a blurry dark camera angle of toys on the floor and immediately went "lol Skinamarink" so my brain is broken obviously.

Oh fuck it wasn't the bully's mom who lied and manipulated the situation and ruined the friendship (???) It was Oliver's stupid fucking mom? (Honestly I think it was equal parts both of them but ymmv. I do not understand this reveal) And during this reveal she's trying to force him to look her in the eyes. And they're hiding from the monster. And poor Oliver writes that he wants it to take him because she ruined his friendship 😭 god. I just can't.

First decent thing this shitheel does is recognize that Oliver calms himself with the SpongeBob theme song and hums it to him. It came out of nowhere. Really didn't feel this character has grown enough for this moment. Doesn't feel deserved.

Yeah the clearer the shots we get of Larry the more I can see his real world design sucks. Disappointing. I must stress the practical effects that bring him to life are incredible. Great effects. Just I'm so tired of oversaturated trope of tall pale humanoid creature. He's got pretty boring designed feet and hands too like. It's like if they took all the style out of the monster designs in Little Nightmares. So you're left with mildly uncanny valley stretched out hairless man.

The mom is something else. "This thing is powered by electricity. Why do you keep saying for us to go to the field???!!" Oh I don't know 😒 truly one of life's greatest mysteries.

The mom sacrificed herself to the creature which is honestly the only way I think she could have redeemed herself. Kinda saw this coming with the "only goes away when you finish the story, give it your hand" thing. Doesn't feel at all earned. I mean yeah she gave up her life to protect him even though she did it right in front of him and further traumatized him 🙃 again, the story keeps having this issue where it will suddenly insist the whole universe revolves around Oliver's mom.

There's some pretty big storytelling inconsistency whiplash in this movie. It really had no business sympathizing with the mom so much. She literally caused every non supernatural problem and significantly worsened the supernatural ones. In the end she like... comes back as a ghost and spends time with him and definitely loves him unconditionally now. We hope. The movie wants us to think this. She has the teensiest amount of redemption and it implies more than shows that she's learned from her negligence and wrongdoing.

I did like a lot of what this movie did but god the autism mom martyr complex shit is genuinely wrong and bad. The narrative that parents of autistic children are heroes and the true "victims" of the "disease" for their insurmountably good deed of not abandoning their own children and blah blah blah is wretched. It's the mindset that makes the "charity" Autism Speaks so insidious. They don't care about autistic people. They care about the poor undeserving neurotypicals who are forced to have autism in their lives 😒

This movie could have been an absolute banger if it instead focused on Oliver dealing with this creature. Hell, I was hoping that he would bring it into the real world to stay rather than what it wanted which was the reverse and after the friendship he had with bully kid was repaired he'd introduce Larry into their newly forming friend group or some shit. Or that the creature was insidiously trying to take advantage of the situation to capture him or something. But no. We got "phones bad" because they somehow created this creature who only wants friends but is also violent and scary, and several times is shown in a comparative way to the autistic boy, and we have shitty mother redemption. God.

It really felt like there was a good story here and a lot of stuff was really good but the bad shit is impossible to ignore. The actors were all good but yeah there's some serious issues with the writing and message. Very frustrating. They didn't use the kid being autistic for horror because instead they made the monster essentially a representation of a neurodivergent child and blamed his creation on the use of the very same electronic devices that the autistic boy used to empower himself and have more autonomy. Yeesh that's a big issue.

Oliver was such a tender sweetheart literally didn't deserve any of this.

I went into this thinking "oh boy this is just run of the mill monster horror shit that has a relatable protagonist unlike the artsy horror this isn't gonna make me use my brain" but no that quickly changed.

It is worth noting that I never finished the Babadook because of all the issues I had with it. This feels like it wanted to right those wrongs but still valued neurotypical comfort and status quo over neurodivergent child acceptance.

Idk I'm probably way too hard on the mom character but just this once can we have an autistic kid being loved not in spite of his autism but including his autism? Please?

#text post #long post #negative #cw: ableism #I was at first so into this movie and it just god #HoD despite Andy not officially confirmed as such still continues to be the best in neurodivergent child empowerment monster horror #please can I have some more I am starving

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adamwatchesmovies · 1 year

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The Last Vampire on Earth (2010)

There’s nothing like a knockoff to make you appreciate the real thing. We’ve seen many Twilight imitators over the years and The Last Vampire on Earth is easily the worst one. This film only has two modes: utter boredom and unintentional, all-consuming, laugh-so-hard-you’ve-got-tears-coming-out-of-your-eyes unintentional hilarity.

While rehearsing for a play adaptation of Dracula, college student Chloe Parish (McKenzie Grimmett) begins hanging out with and becoming closer to Aurelius (Michael Bole), a classmate playing the titular role. While studying the legends of the vampire, she begins wondering if the man she’s falling for could be one.

The word “knockoff” isn’t exactly appropriate. I think the correct term this time is “plagiarism”. Entire scenes are lifted word-for-word from Stephenie Myers’ book. Yes, I'm saying "book" rather than the "movie adaptation". This film is so poorly made the effort to pop the DVD into a player and manually type all of the dialogue to ensure the correct punctuation must have been too much for writer Mandie Abraham. I know the credits SAY this film is based on the 104-page novel of the same name (published in 2010) but come on; it’s Twilight.

Where to begin? How about with the cast? I can’t remember the last time I saw someone less qualified to be a leading man than Michael Bole. He doesn’t lack charisma, he has anti-charisma. Constantly mumbling his lines without a drop of enthusiasm, he is never convincing as a human being, much less a 2,000+ year-old vampire. He and McKenzie Grimmett have no chemistry, whatsoever. You don’t need to see the one very brief, icy kiss - the one she seems to recoil from in disgust - to believe these two would never EVER fall in love. To be fair, you can’t blame her. I once heard the film described as “'Twilight' if they replaced Robert Pattinson with an ogre”. It’s cruel… but also fitting. Don’t think I’m letting the female lead off the hook. She’s clearly either a big fan of Twilight who got suckered into this project, or an amateur with absolutely no future in Hollywood. Either way, it’s painful to watch.

The picture is poorly shot. The special effects are at the level of a middle-school project hurriedly churned out over a single afternoon. A weird filter applied to every single frame makes the film look like it was shot through a cardboard tube and the effect isn’t even centered most of the time. Then there are small details which pass by so quickly you might miss them (no thanks to the lack of subtitles). When Chloe learns Aurelius has been alive for two millennia, she asks him if he met Jesus. Of course, he says yes, Because no shitty movie about immortals is complete without the revelation that they were present for every single big event in human history. The pasty lunk replies that yeah he met Jesus, and that he was a pretty cool guy. So wait, it’s a vampire movie in which Jesus lived… and the vampire isn’t affected by crucifixes?

The writing is on a level so low even film enthusiasts who see everything are unlikely to have encountered anything like it before. It’s no secret that Twilight was heavily influenced by Stephenie Meyer’s Mormon faith. At first glance, this film’s not-Bella being a Jehovah’s witness doesn’t seem out of place. It even seems a little clever, as the Witnesses do not believe in blood transfusions. But then, you see the characters go to a church and it becomes clear this is simply window-dressing riddled with mistakes. What did you expect? The film can’t even manage to give its vampire pointed teeth. Doing something like basic research would be just way too hard.

Even within its own logic and mythology, The Last Vampire on Earth is packed thick with mistakes, illogical choices and actions which make no sense. There is nothing, NOTHING this film manages to get right, not even the DVD menu, which doesn’t even include an option to jump to a scene. Closing your eyes while The Last Vampire on Earth is playing is a sweet, sweet relief so there's a chance it may put you to sleep. To watch it, you’ll need to strain your ears so you can hear what the characters are saying. It’s shockingly bad but sprung unto an unsuspecting audience, it can be a riot. There are so many aspects of this picture to pick apart and the effort involved in the project so fruitless you can have a good time with what is undoubtedly one of the worst productions I’ve ever seen. (On DVD, November 30, 2018)

#The Last Vampire on Earth #movies #films #movie reviews #film reviews #twilight #Vitaliy Versace #Mandie Abraham #McKenzie Grimmett #Michael Bole #2010 movies #2010 films

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hermannsthumb · 3 years

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possible prompt for a university au: newt is the biology major who maintains all the fish tanks in the physics building at 11pm and hermann is the physics student who likes to wander the halls to think. newt accidentally flings water all over the ground and hermann trips, hijinks ensue.

earlier today I was thinking about how I wrote a college AU fic almost 3 years ago to the date, and how I wanted to do more bc its fun thinking about newt and hermann as dumb college students

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Newt's not really sure how he ended up with the weirdest work-study job on the planet, but honestly, things could be much, much worse (he could be stuck down in the dining hall, or dealing with confused freshmen in the school bookstore) so he keeps his thoughts on the whole thing to himself. Every Friday at eleven sharp, Newt pulls on his grodiest t-shirt and a pair of long rubber gloves and treks all the way over to the physics department to set to work scrubbing down the fish tanks that line the classroom walls. Why does the physics department have fish tanks? Newt's not really sure about that, either. It's kind of an insane amount of them, too, more than even the marine bio department has. Maybe it's supposed to boost morale or something. Hey, look at these crazy cool tropical fish who get to do nothing but eat and swim in circles, sorry you're stuck inside calculating velocity and shit.

Whatever, Newt's not complaining about that either. Let the physics nerds have their fun. It'll be good for them to branch out a little, realize there's life beyond robotics club meetings.

Also, Newt likes the fish. They're cute. He likes to think they like him, too, because they're very well behaved when he has to scoop them out of their tanks and plop them into smaller fish bowls (the kind goldfish in movies always use). He's going to teach them tricks eventually—he had a beta fish once who would do a little flip when Newt tapped the glass a certain way because he knew he'd get rewarded with dried worms, so Newt knows it's possible. Just imagine, a hundred fish doing flips on command. Newt Geiszler, fish whisperer.

Yeah, maybe the job could be more glamorous. It's really hard to get algae out of the gloves, and he hasn't been allotted the budget for a new pair yet.

"Hey, guys!" he shouts as he pushes in the door to room 214. The fish don't acknowledge him: they just continue swimming in their giant tank. In and out of plastic plants and rock caves. The rock caves were a gift from Newt three months into the job, and so were some of the moss balls—stimulation is important for fish! He wouldn't want to be trapped in a glass box with nothing to do, either. "I bet you missed me. Ready for a clean tank?"

Newt always talks to the fish, even if they don't talk back, because he thinks it's important to build their trust. He'll usually keep a running commentary of his week as he scrubs the tanks, just get everything off his chest that he needs to get off. Stuff he's worried about. Stuff that went well. Stuff that went badly. Therapy's expensive, and Newt's student health insurance can only cover so much, but talking to fish? That's free.

That's also kinda why he does it so late at night and over the weekend. The last thing he wants is an audience. Because, one, talking to fish is admittedly weird, and two, no one wants a glimpse at Newt's psyche like that, probably not even the fish.

The first step in cleaning the tanks is relocation. Newt digs his stereotypical goldfish bowls and an industrial-size mesh wand out of the supply closet, fills the former with some of the special tank salt water, and begins the slow and arduous task of scooping out the fish and depositing them into the bowls. "I had the lamest week," he announces once he's about three clownfish in. "I was working on a group project Saturday—"

Then Newt stops, because he hears footsteps in the hallway just outside the classroom.

Serial killer, Newt's instincts supply helpfully.

No, Newt corrects himself, that's dumb. Why would a serial killer wander into the physics building at eleven o'clock at night? Why would anyone, period? He's probably imagining stuff. Lack of sleep, stress over his upcoming projects, residual embarrassment from his disaster study session Saturday, all of it culminating in Newt thinking there's someone there. No, definitely imagining it. Newt can only even get in this late to the department because his ID swipe card is set up with the right permissions—not even the physics students have the permissions he does to be in this late at night. Well, not unless they clean the kitchenette in the student lounge or something.

Or if Newt left the door unlocked.

More footsteps. Closer now.

Newt's pretty sure he didn't leave the door unlocked, because he thinks it locks automatically behind him, and he would have to literally prop it open for anyone to get in after him. But anything's possible. The door could've caught on a dropped pencil or a paper scrap or other weird shit that physics students leave around, and a serial killer could've noticed and taken the opportunity to sneak inside on the off chance a hapless young biology major was scrubbing slime off fish tanks in the middle of the night. Any minute now, Newt's about to end up on an episode of Unsolved Mysteries. The Physics Department Murder. The Disappearing Biologist. (Nah, neither of those are very good titles, but that's why Newt isn't on the creative writing track.)

Step-tap-step. Closer now; Newt's heart leaps to his throat. Step-tap-step. Step-tap-step. Pausing just outside the door of room 214. God, why didn't Newt turn the lights off? Why didn't he shut the door?

Newt reaches for the first vaguely weapon-shaped thing he can find—an empty fishbowl, because Newt's not going to sacrifice any of the fish for this—and, as the door swings open, hurls it with a cry.

The bowl clunks on the ground. Except it turns out Newt grabbed the wrong fish bowl, because (even though it doesn't shatter, thank God) water quickly begins to seep across the slate floor tiles towards Newt's serial killer, a pathetic little clownfish (Newt thinks this one is named Albert, because the physics department is made up of nerds who do shit like name their random pet fish after their kind) flopping around in the puddle. Newt's serial killer, meanwhile, cries out similarly, his arms windmilling as he loses his footing and slips backwards, his cane—

Oh, fuck.

The intruder is not a serial killer. It's someone possibly worse, actually: Newt's mortal enemy, Hermann Gottlieb.

Newt's not really sure at what point Hermann became his mortal enemy and not just some guy I have class with that I hate, but he can pretty easily say that they've hated each other since the moment Hermann walked through the doors of Engineering 101 and was deigned Newt's lab partner by the Alphabetized By Last Name Seating Chart god. Something about Hermann just gets under Newt's skin. It's not his prissy English accent, or his oversized sweaters, or his absolutely horrendous haircut, and it's not even that he takes every opportunity to savagely rip apart every single thing Newt says in class. Don't get Newt wrong, that's all super fucking annoying, but it's annoying levels he can deal with.

It's the stuff they have in common that makes Newt hate him. It's like Hermann's a slightly broodier and more angular mirror that reflects all of Newt's most egregious faults—his arrogance, his stubbornness, his social awkwardness, his desperation to be taken seriously—right back at him. It sucks.

Plus, one time Newt caught Hermann ripping down the flyer he put up on the quad for Anime Club to advertise his stupid chess club instead, and he's never managed to forgive him for that.

Newt may hate Hermann, but he's not about to let him land on his ass in a puddle of fishy water (especially not on a freezing November night) just because the subsequent bitching would be unbearable, and, yeah, it would be supremely shitty of Newt, so he leaps forward just in time to catch Hermann and his cane before he hits the ground. He's so impressed with himself with his amazing catch that it takes him a few seconds to realize that Hermann is shouting and probably has been shouting since he slipped.

"—bloody maniac! What on earth are you doing in here? How are you in here? Did you just assault me? I'm going to phone campus police, you wretched—"

"Hold that thought," Newt says.

He rights Hermann and snags the mesh net and rescues poor Al before it's too late, dropping him back into the big tank with the rest of his friends. Newt can't be sure, but he thinks Al blows a bubble in thanks at him. Maybe he needs to make friends outside fish.

Hermann is still yelling at him.

"I am going to tell the head of the department you're—you're skulking about in here after hours!" he declares. "You're a menace. Pay attention to what I'm saying to you, Newton!"

Newt sighs and turns around. Hermann's turned an interesting shade of red—sort of like an over-boiled lobster, or if he fell asleep in the sun for too long. Newt wonders if it's from embarrassment (almost falling on his ass) or anger (almost being knocked on his ass). Probably anger. "Look, dude, I'm sorry," Newt says. His face twists like he ate a lemon, and he hopes Hermann doesn't notice. Newt hates apologizing to Hermann. "It's my job to clean the tanks every weekend. You scared the shit out of me and I freaked out—it's just that, like, no one ever comes by this late. Ever." He decides not to mention the serial killer thing. Hermann might make fun of him for being jumpy or paranoid or something.

Hermann's scowl doesn't lessen, but he does nod. Plus, he stops shouting. That's as much as Newt's gonna get of forgiveness. "Hmph," Hermann says. "You clean the tanks?"

"Every weekend," Newt repeats. He realizes he got some fish tank slime on Hermann's button-up when he caught him. Oops. Hopefully Hermann won't notice until Newt's in the safety of his dorm. "Gotta pay for my textbooks somehow." Then he frowns. "Wait, so what are you doing here? I didn't know you had access to the building this late."

Maybe Hermann is the kitchenette-cleaning guy after all. But, to his surprise, Hermann sniffs and casts his eyes to his dorky Oxford shoes. "Er," he says. "It's just—I was having trouble working out a solution to a problem, and thought a walk might do me good. Chilly nights like this one always do. And I quite like this building at night—it's calm, and much quieter than my dormitory." He fidgets. "And—well—only don't say anything to anyone, but I rewrote the permissions of my ID card so I could come and go wherever I please ages ago."

"You rewrote the permissions?" Newt says. "What the hell, wouldn't you have to hack into the security system or something to do that?"

"Well, obviously," Hermann says.

Despite himself, and despite Hermann being his Mortal Enemy, Newt is genuinely impressed. "Dude," he says. "That is so badass." Since when has Hermann been a badass?

Hermann's eyebrows jump, and he blinks at Newt behind his dorky librarian glasses. What twenty-one-year-old wears librarian glasses? With a chain? "You think so?" he says.

"Uh, totally," Newt says. "What problem were you stuck on? The one from Saturday?"

Being lab partners for engineering means Newt and Hermann have to collaborate on pretty much everything, including their midterms. Their midterm is what they've been working on for the past two weeks. On Saturday, though, they met in neutral ground to work on it (a reserved study room in the library), and, after a stupid and massive argument that had the librarians hoisting them out by their shirt collars and threatening to ban them for life, Hermann called Newt an idiot and stomped off into the night. Newt still hasn't gotten around to giving the problem another shot. Whatever, they have another week before the dumb thing is due. Plenty of time. Hermann nods. "Yes," he says. "Er—that one."

Newt glances at the clock ticking away on the wall. Quarter after eleven. Hermann's delayed him a whole fifteen minutes. Technically, he reminds himself, he doesn't actually have to have the tanks scrubbed by Friday night—he has the whole weekend to get it done. Also, he kind of feels like he owes Hermann for attacking him the way he did. Accidentally attacking. "Listen, Hermann," he says, feeling totally insane for what he's about to suggest. But he kind of wants to know more about Hermann The Badass. "What if we went back to my place and worked on it together? I'll buy us pizza, and I have, like, a bunch of energy drinks." The pizza place nearest campus is open until three in the morning, almost definitely because they get all of their business from sleep-deprived undergrads. Plus, they have midnight specials where you get free breadsticks with every pizza. Newt could go for some breadsticks. "It might be...fun," he adds.

Fun? With Hermann? Hermann will think he hit his head or something.

But to his surprise, Hermann doesn't hesitate even a second before saying "Alright, then."

"Oh," Newt says. He honestly thought Hermann would put up more of a struggle. "Cool!"

"But I might need to borrow a jumper," Hermann says. "If you'd be so...courteous, that is. I'm a bit chilly."

For some reason, the thought of Hermann (Newt's mortal enemy, but also a secret badass) curled up in one of Newt's baggy sweatshirts makes Newt feel all weird and warm all over. He swallows a few times, because his throat feels a little weird, too. Too tight. Like he just ate something he's allergic to. "No sweat," Newt says. "Let me just get these fish back in the, um, the tank. And—" He waves his slimy, gloved hands. "Take these off. And clean up that puddle. Gimme—um, gimme like, ten minutes?"

"Of course," Hermann says, and gives Newt a small, terse nod.

From Hermann, it's a smile. Newt almost slips on the puddle he's so blindsided by it. Stupid Hermann, making him feel all weird and clumsy.

#newmann #maria's fanfiction tag #Anonymous

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beann-e · 3 years

Text

Deku believes your dense but, are you really or do you just not want to accept the inevitable?

Deku was always one to overthink , he’d catch himself wandering in his mind as if he was a child at the park most days

So, when the both of you started dating the worries only increased

He believed you were the most beautiful person to exsist inside and out so why would anyone else think you weren’t

He would see how everyone would interact with you

Their behaviors seeming as those who had crushes on you

so you could understand his fear and the loss he felt when he would see you talking to his middle school bully his best friend if you would say

His heart would thump wildly when he would see Bakugou actually saying words to you instead of the occasional grunts he’d give you most days

It started out small with Deku asking you what you two talked about , then it moved on to what’d you two do when you went out yesterday

Until it finally came down to

“ why did I catch you in his room y/n “

oh you were here now actually , you’d just made it to this point not even a few minutes ago

“ Izuku we had a project that’s all baby —swear“

“ it didn’t look very project-e when I walked in to check on you and got cursed out by kaachan — with you trying to push him off of you “

“ he was just playing izuku “ you smiled at him “ that’s it he was just joking “

“ y/n I don’t know if —“

“ babe bakugou Is like your bestfriend right “

dekus body tensed as he sat confused “ I mean if you wanna — if you — maybe you can put it that way — m-maybe yes “

you laughed and wrapped your arms around him “ ok then why would he make a move on his best friends girlfriend that makes absolutely no sense “

deku sighed as he hugged you back relaxing into your hold before he pulled you back by the waist making you stand in front of him “ y-y/n I understand you don’t get a lot of things — their are some things that just fly over your head because you simply don’t understand “ he waved his hands in front of him “ and I — no I — I don’t mean anything and by it — there’s nothing wrong with it — I love you for it “ he moved to play with his fingers to calm himself down

“ but even if kaachan was flirting with you I don’t think youd understand you’d probably just push it off“ he sighed out “ you’d just think he was being extra friendly to you like with me — I didn’t know you liked me until you told me in our quirk fight and then I was confident to tell you the same “

“ it’s fine deku “ you wrapped your arms around him again “ it doesn’t matter even if bakugou does have a crush on me or something weird I only have eyes for you ok “ you kissed him on his lips pulling back to look in his eyes “ it’s not gonna be that easy to steal me away “

If that was the case then how did you guys end up two weeks later in bakugous room once again with deku dropping his flowers he held for you on the floor body shaking as he watched bakugou press his lips to yours your body trying it’s best to push him away

“ y-y/n — baby — wha”

you felt ice run through your veins as you looked up at bakugou who sat on you holding you down on the floor from where you tried to escape his hold as you two were just fighting each other for your project on how different quirks interact

your face dropping to a frown when you looked into the blondes eyes seeing him huff and breathe hard over you until your eyes went downcast and made their way over to deku

“ I—I don’t I actually don’t know what happened“ you said softly hands held above your head in bakugous grip

“ k-kaachan get — get off of her “

“ is that you asking or telling me dumb deku “

“ don’t talk to him like that katsuki “

“ and who the fuck told you to call me my first name“

“ why are you — you don’t act this way when we’re alone “

“ well your dumb fucking boyf — shitty deku just throws me off “

“ I— what — what are you two doing y/n you told me this was a project “

“ it— it is “

“ then why are you still under him “ he pouted “ baby please get up “

bakugou scoffed at dekus words until he moved to stand

you following moving away from the blonde who rolled his eyes at your actions “ you talk about people acting in a different way — look at how you act now that he’s here “

you turned to look at bakugou confused “ bakugou he’s my — he’s my boyfriend “

“ so you don’t act like this when he’s around “

“ what —what are you talking about “

“ we joke all the time about stuff like that and how it means nothing and it’s all stupid — we’re always doing play fights and dumb shit and now all of a sudden your up on your knees pleading to this puppy dog “

“ again katsuki he’s my boyfriend “

“l I-I know I just “

“ you don’t like me katsuki “ you said looking at him

“ you don’t like me or you would have said something when we were paired up so when you made jokes I would have been quick to cut them off if I knew you actually meant them “

you played with your arm that was now covered in goosebumps “ you don’t like me katsuki not like that“

“ I - I don’t your right “ he shook his head “ who the fuck would like someone like you — shitty dekus the only one who can handle your mouth — id kill myself two times over if I had to listen to you one more time in our practices and study times “

you laughed as you turned to deku “ see babe — it’s ok — it was just an accident he didn’t mean to kiss me he must have gotten to caught up in the battle“ you smiled widely “ can we go watch a movie I actually want popcorn “

dekus head moved slowly up and down as he gulped watching as you hopped over to his room in happiness opening the door and closing it

his breath uneven as he was left standing in bakugous room “ I-i’m sorry I just they don’t get—understand a lot of advances sometimes and I have to help them ou— “

“ I meant what I did “

dekus eyes dropped he wasn’t stupid he knew bakugou meant everything— every single advance deku questioned bakugou meant something by it all

“ and i’m not gonna stop — not until they tell me theirselves they want me to “

“ you know their not going to do that because they don’t understand “

“ then I guess you just have to step up your game as a boyfriend shitty green crayon because I plan to up my advances “

he yelled loudly at the green haired boy who was frozen in his place “ and get the fuck out of my room unless your closing the door shitface “

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lavenderbexlatte · 3 years

Text

play you on repeat

stray kids 11.8k words female reader insert FemDom!Reader x Sub!3RACHA EXPLICIT/NSFW

🖤 warnings: unprotected sex, degradation 🖤

Series Masterlist (Parts 1-7)

connect with me! / masterlist

The three of them follow you all the way to the front door in a line like little ducklings, eager-eyed and silent as you part the crowds of students and friends on your way outside.

You only see those eager eyes when you turn around on the front porch of the random house that's throwing this party. Changbin stands just behind you, Jisung after him and Chan bringing up the rear.

They really want more, then. Their instant agreement kind of surprises you; it's one thing to flirt or make out with someone at a party, but it's another thing entirely to invite random classmates home for an orgy. But you're not crazy or stupid enough to let the chance pass you by. You're all in.

"Okay, boys," you say, "Where are we doing this?"

"Me and 'Bin live together," says Chan quickly.

You regard him coolly. "Just you two?"

"Just us," he nods.

That's promising. You live independently but you have roommates, and while you're sure you could sneak one hookup into your room, three of them might turn some heads. Your roommates are patient, but not that patient.

So you smile at them. "Okay. I trust you three aren’t gonna try any dirty tricks on me?"

"Dirty tricks?" Changbin repeats.

You shrug. "Stealing my wallet. Selling me into indentured servitude. Harvesting my organs. The usual nightmare date stuff."

"Why would we do that?" Jisung asks, looking amused but also concerned.

Is he worried that you don't trust them? That's kind of cute.

You just smile wider. "We don't know each other very well, I’m a woman and you’re three men. You guys might be dangerous."

It’s obvious that you’re teasing them. You can't help but laugh a little, saying it, since you’ve actually been alone with the three of them before, for your school project some weeks ago. Besides, the most unpredictable and potentially dangerous person here is you. That's already been proven. The three of them seem just as amused as you, though, so you've succeeded in breaking any tension that was gathering.

"Did you guys drive here?" you ask.

"No," says Jisung.

"Neither did I," you say, “I was planning on getting drunk.”

"No worries. Called a cab already," says Chan.

His cocky attitude is back as he waves his phone in your direction, the screen showing a little animated car tracing its way to your location. When did he order a ride? More importantly, at what point did he assume you were gonna wanna go back to his place? He's right, of course, and you do want to, but come on.

"Presumptuous," you tease.

He shrugs. "Well, 'Sung has roommates, and I figured you wouldn't want three near strangers at your place."

The flash of his eyes lets you know that he’s feeling quite high and mighty for having made up your mind for you. Oh, you're going to have to break this attitude ASAP.

You set about thinking of exactly how to do that as you meander toward the road to wait for the car, trusting that someone will tell you when it arrives. You stand on the sidewalk in the dim circle of light cast by a streetlamp. Chan wants more, right?

So do you. Three boys...three boys who are all partners, it seems. There's gonna be some finagling tonight, some organization needed. You ponder exactly what you want from them. The options are endless, truly. This is going to be very, very good.

When the car pulls up, Changbin comes over and slings his arm around your waist, like he's the one taking you home and not the other way around (figuratively, at least). You look at him, amused, relishing how you can almost meet his eye with the small difference between his height and yours.

"What's this?" you ask, gesturing at his arm around you.

"I'm being gentlemanly," he pouts, bottom lip pushed out exaggeratedly, "Don't kill the vibe."

He's being silly, you realize. That firm confidence from before is gone, replaced by what seems to be an eager desire for you to like him. He's in luck, then. You already like him.

You climb into the back seat of the small black sedan, scooting all the way over to the far window seat. Chan follows right behind you, settling in the middle with Jisung after him. Changbin is up front with the driver. You can tell that the boys would rather have you in the middle seat by the way that Chan and Jisung are playfully glaring at each other, but you much prefer to have your own space by the window. Nobody likes the middle seat.

The boys busy themselves with their phones on the ride, but you just watch the boys instead. You can tell that they know you're watching. Jisung meets your eye once and looks away quickly, grinning, and Changbin is just barely resisting turning all the way around to look at you head-on. You think you know what you want to do with those two, since they're pretty communicative and easy to read, so you study the real predicament.

Chan.

He's got pretty hands, you notice, as he taps away at his phone. He also has one of those dorky leather phone cases with wallet pockets. You just can't get into those; young people use them a lot, now, but you always associate them with dads and teachers and stuff. Old people. Chan's is full of cards, his student ID and a credit card and others. You peer closer at his driver's license with its tiny picture of him. His curly hair is blonde in the photo, which is cute.

You notice something else, too - his birthdate. Chan is in your year in school, but you never knew...

"Are you...are you younger than me?" you ask him, delighted.

He blinks at you. "How old are you?"

You tell him - a year or so older than him. It's not much, but definitely something in a society that puts so much emphasis on age. It also puts you at the oldest in this group by a bit of a margin, considering Changbin is a couple years younger than Chan and Jisung is younger still.

"That makes me the noona tonight," you tease.

Chan gives you an alarmed side-eye, his pale cheeks blushing furiously and his pupils blown big. He's into the noona thing, too? You wonder exactly how many little one-ups you're going to have on him tonight.

So you're the oldest. Hm. You grin to yourself. So they thought they were bagging a shy, quiet submissive, and instead they got you.

The ride to their place is short, and you're surprised when the cab pulls up in front of a small one-story house instead of an apartment building. Not many students around here have homes, since housing prices in the city are predictably sky-high and out of the average student budget. The boys get out of the car right away, thanking the driver, but you take your time. You study the house, the cars in the driveway (two of them, one silver sedan, one black mid-size SUV) and the neat front garden.

"A house," you say mildly.

Changbin looks embarrassed for the first time that night, as he stutters, "My family - I'm - we have-"

"Fucking PILES of money," Chan finishes for him, grinning, "I pay him rent, can you believe it?"

"I didn't want him to pay anything but he insisted," Changbin says.

"I'm not a freeloader," Chan insists.

"You think I'm gonna make my own boyfriend pay rent when I could buy him his own house?" Changbin grumbles, heading up the front walk.

Jisung has already let himself into the house uninterested in the conversation. He doesn't live there, you remember, but obviously he's no stranger. You follow Changbin inside, vaguely aware of Chan coming after you. It's a cute house, you admit to yourself, as you step in the door and kick off your shoes.

It does look like a house where a bunch of boys live, though. An artists' den. There's music equipment strewn all over the small living room; Bluetooth speakers, a midi board, a full-size electric keyboard, a drum pad. Propped on a small table in the corner is a silver slab that you realize is a YouTube subscriber award plaque, and there’s a Soundcloud affiliate certificate next to it.

"The rumors about you guys are true, then," you say, mostly to yourself, not even thinking.

Changbin looks at you, confused. So does Jisung. Chan just smiles lopsidedly.

"What rumors?" Jisung asks.

"Oh." You can feel your face heating up. "Just that you guys are...musicians."

You were actually thinking about their minor celebrity status, their Soundcloud rapper status, but you don't know if that will come across as...like...offensive? Is it rude to call people Soundcloud rappers, since that’s kind of become an insult? They're obviously even more well-known than you thought, if the 100k subs plaque is anything to go off. Not just campus royalty, but actually somewhat famous. It’s bizarre.

"Musicians," Chan repeats, amused.

You kind of hate the expression on his face. He's still holding onto that weird confident charm from the party, the face that you assume he puts on in these situations to pretend he's not one good hair-pull away from whining and begging.

"You can't pretend that you don't know," you say, more aggressively than you mean to, "On campus, with everyone from school…you guys are super...popular."

It sounds so stupid to say, like you're the ugly duckling in a bad teen movie. 'You can’t like meeeee, you're soooo cool and popular!'

"Are we?" Jisung asks, looking genuinely surprised.

Oh my God. You want to facepalm. You want to grab one of them and shake them.

"You literally tried to seduce me in there," you point out, "Would that have worked if you weren't popular? That's something popular people do. Use their, like, social standing to get people to sleep with them."

"That would make us pretty shitty people," Chan says delicately. "Imbalance of power and all that."

Oh. You didn't mean to accuse them of anything. You open your mouth to apologize, feeling incredibly out of place, but Jisung interrupts you, completely unbothered.

"It's only worked once before, anyway," he says.

"...Picking someone up?" you ask.

Changbin nods, "And that only worked because Felix already had a crush on me and Chan. We just had to sell him on Jisung."

"Hey!" Jisung pouts.

Chan pets his hair placatingly, and Jisung shrugs him off in favor of heading for the kitchen, mumbling about being a fucking catch. But you’re focusing on a different bit of what Changbin told you.

"You guys fucked Felix Lee?" you ask, incredulous.

“Maybe a month ago, yeah,” Changbin says.

The cute, freckled face of dance team captain Felix Lee swims in your mind for a moment, followed by the memory of his chiseled abs from a performance earlier in the year. He’s a rising sophomore, but solidly half of campus has a crush on him. Damn, THOSE are their standards, and they wanna fuck YOU? You gotta start giving yourself more credit.

"So, we're popular," Chan muses.

"You had to have known that," you shake your head, "Literally everyone knows you. First years are so thirsty for you. That's why I was so-"

You cut yourself off. They don't need to know that you were flustered when they approached you, back there. They don't need the ego trip.

So you just affix your best innocent smile to you face, looking the three of them over. Chan, leaning against the back of the couch. Changbin, lining up all four pairs of shoes (theirs and yours) by the front door. And Jisung, returned from the kitchen with a bottle of water that he's chugging like a dying man.

"You didn't invite me over to talk about your social status," you say instead.

"We sure didn't," Chan agrees.

"First things first, then," you say, "Boundaries. You guys have any hard limits? Safewords? Musts and don'ts?"

"Nope," says Jisung, taking another sip of the water to punctuate it.

"No musts or no don'ts?" you ask.

"Yes," he quips.

You can't help the way your smile grows. "Alright. Anyone else?"

"No serious degrading," Changbin says, very very quietly.

“Praise motivated, huh?” you coo, “Cute.”

Changbin looks slightly embarrassed, but his eyes are sharp and engaged as he adds, “And no digs at my size.”

You grin. "Size or size?"

"Either!" he pouts.

"Sounds fair to me," you say.

You fix your eyes on the last one: Chan, still looking only mildly interested and very calm. But you can see the very tips of his ears going red, and then it spreads down his cheeks, and then down his neck as you watch him.

And finally, he says, "I'm not good with praise."

Jisung laughs, loud and ridiculous. "That's an understatement."

You smile warmly at Chan, not wanting him to back down if this is a legit thing for him, "So does that mean no praise?"

"No," he says immediately, "Just that...if you - I get all-"

"Flustered," you finish for him. "Good to know."

You pause for a second, wondering what kind of hard limits you'll need to bring up to them tonight. They don't seem like the kind of partners to push you into anything, if they way they're already tiptoeing around is any indication.

"I don't like hitting in the face," you say, after a moment. "Or blood."

Changbin gives you a look. "Is that the kind of stuff you do on your first night with someone?"

You laugh, "No, not usually. But some people have really specific fetishes, and I live to please. Gotta lay everything out before we start."

Chan nods sincerely, like he knows exactly what you're saying, and Jisung follows suit. You're satisfied that you've covered your bases now. And besides, you really want to get started. You have three beautiful men here to play with.

So you say, "Okay. Who's first?"

You're still smiling, but you let some of your pent-up excitement leak into it, wondering if any of them will take the bait. You wonder if they're starting to think that you're some kind of super strict domme. Very serious, or very demanding, or something. You've had that problem before, with people crumbling before you even get started since you're so blunt about boundaries. Some people take that to mean that you like rigid roles and rules and set scenes.

But that's not really true. After the communication is solidified and you trust your partner, you like to just...let go.

Much to your amusement, the first one to crack is Jisung.

He practically bounces up to you, his face so perfectly cute that you wonder if he practices the look in the mirror. It's equal parts funny and ironic, since he's the youngest and also, from what you've seen at school, the one who wants to be taken most seriously.

"I'm first," he informs you.

You smile. You can't help it. His expression is so open and happy, even though his eyes are a little nervous. It's just so much. You gently nudge Chan away from the couch, and pat the back of it gently, invitingly. Jisung seems to understand you immediately and hops right up, balancing himself on the frame and the tops of the cushions, his legs dangling down the back of the couch. You settle yourself between his legs, standing purposefully, spreading your hands across his back to support him gently.

He leans back a little as if to test you, and you hold him up easily. It's not so much that you're strong, but that Jisung's so lean and slim. And even if he did fall, it would just be the short drop onto the seat of the couch. His eyes go wider as he realizes what kind of game you're playing with him. It's a signal, and you figured he'd be smart enough to pick up on it.

"I've got you," you say, very softly, into his ear.

Even if you look unassuming, even if they're taller and louder and bolder than you. Even if you're a gentle dom who puts up with some antics.

You're in control.

When you pull back and look at him, you swear you can see the little cartoon stars blooming in his eyes. He definitely got the message loud and clear.

He nods, almost imperceptibly, and says, "I know."

And you kiss him. He deserves it. A proper kiss, not like the teasing you'd done to him at the party. You let him lick into your mouth, scrape your teeth gently over his soft bottom lip. He's a good boy, you decide. Certified good boy.

Jisung leans back a bit more as he pulls away from you, and he lurches, loses his balance. He doesn’t go anywhere, since you're still holding him up securely, but he looks spooked. It fascinates you, how quickly he's fallen into the game of it. There's no risk if he falls, and yet...

"Can I-" he asks, " - can I touch-"

"Yeah," you say, cutting him off.

And then he's gently holding your face with one hand, the other arm draped over your shoulder, fingers playing with your hair. His body is much more relaxed as he kisses you, and you relish in it.

Oh, he's a sweetheart, you realize. Not a pushover or anything; he's still cupping your face and smiling into the kiss, confident and comfortable. But a good boy.

"You're so pretty," you say.

Jisung honest to God whines against your lips at the praise.

"It's true," you say, amused.

"He likes that a lot," comes Chan's voice.

You jump, having nearly forgotten your audience again. The other two are standing just beside you, watching intently as you work over their boyfriend.

"Being called pretty?" you ask him, as if Jisung isn't even there.

Chan nods.

"Well, he is," you affirm, leaning in to kiss Jisung's nose, trying to get your groove back.

Honestly, it’s a struggle to keep up with the fact that you’re trying to dom three people at once. You know you’ll do fine. It’s group sex, not a goddamn triathlon. But it’s useful here that you prefer domming psychologically, rather than with lots of physical force. You don’t know exactly what these three are used to, what they’re comfortable doing. A first-time with three people at once probably isn't the best time to fly in with a strap-on and demand people obey you.

So doing this the old-fashioned way, with simple baiting, praising, awarding, withholding…that’s gonna be the way forward.

“Who’s got the best bed for a foursome?” you ask, still holding up Jisung but looking expectantly back at Chan and Changbin.

Changbin nudges Chan with his elbow, "D'you think you could handle moving your pillow fort? For sexy purposes."

"Pillow fort?" you repeat.

"I have a lot of pillows, it's fine," Chan defends. "No big deal."

"He makes a nest with them," pipes up Jisung, "Like a crib."

Chan glares at him, "I'm sorry, I didn't know it was Put Chan On Blast Night."

"Okay, whose bed is biggest?" you ask instead, deigning not to comment on the pillow thing any further.

"Changbin's," says Jisung.

"Then we can go there."

"Yes, ma'am," Changbin says easily, and he turns on his heel to head for the bedroom door on the right side of the house.

It's a small house, so he's quickly out of sight. Chan follows after him. You unwind your arms from around Jisung's little waist, and he lets himself drop dramatically backwards onto the couch cushions. You follow Chan, and Jisung chases after you.

Changbin's room is painted an off-white, the bedding rich dark blue against neutral wood furniture. It's extremely well-done for a college boy's room. You're impressed. It might even be more cohesive than your room. Now, at night, with just the soft light coming in from outside in the gap of his slightly-open blackout curtains, it looks impossibly atmospheric.

"Hold on," Changbin mutters, as you take in the space.

There's a soft click, and a set of fairy lights come on, strung around the perimeter of the room. They're an interesting color array, purple and blue and cool white. It's bright enough to see what you're doing, to see each other, but dark enough to set the tone. Yeah. They have a lot of sex in here. You're kind of excited to be part of it.

"Is there anyone-" you start, before your mind can filter the thought, and you stop.

But all three of them are just looking at you, standing there in a little line. You walk deeper into the room. You can do this. And so you swallow that last trace of lingering shame and ask them outright.

"Is there anyone who doesn't wanna fuck me?"

Jisung and Changbin break out in raucous laughter, and Chan just regards you.

"Why would we not want to?" Chan asks.

"I mean," you huff feeling petulant despite yourself, "Some people have no interest in the P in V stuff and would prefer something else, shut up!"

"You ask a lot of questions," Chan shoots back.

"I'm being considerate," you reply.

"No, I think we're all on board," interrupts Changbin, as if to head off a real argument.

You have no intention of fighting, though. You wonder what kind of people these three have hooked up with in the past. They obviously have no communication difficulties with each other, and yet they're (well...Chan is) being so difficult with you.

"Perfect," you say, "'Bin, c'mere."

Changbin shuffles nearer to you, leaving the others behind, and you look him over carefully. He's broad and strong, much bigger than Jisung. Your approach to him has to be a little different, you think. You make a quick decision: he's gonna be your ally tonight.

You lean into his ear and whisper the plan you've been making up on the fly. He listens. And when you've finished, Changbin grins conniving and bright.

"Does that sound good?" you ask him.

He nods. "I think they'll like it."

"Like what?" Jisung asks eagerly.

"Don't worry about it," you reply.

"I'm gonna worry about it," says Chan.

That dude. So neurotic. You really need to figure out what his buttons are, so you can know which ones to press and which to avoid. It's gonna take more than a little hair-pulling to figure out, you wager.

"'Bin, give me a hand?" you say, gesturing at your top.

Changbin gives you a winning smile and looks gloatingly back at Jisung, then at Chan, and then he reaches down to leisurely unbutton your shirt. You never wear button-downs, but you're glad you did tonight. They make undressing so much more...cinematic.

You shrug off the shirt when Changbin's done, the final button falling open, and you move next to strip off his t-shirt, too. He wears those things tight. He always has; you can't even count how many days in class you've spent staring at the muscular span of his shoulders. This one is the same, clinging to his form ridiculously, like he's trying out to be Captain America's body double.

When the t-shirt is gone, you're greeted with a thick, toned upper body that dips into solid, narrower hips. Not quite cut, no chocolate abs or anything, but he's got some impressive working muscle under his deep-toned skin. Beef. He's beefy.

"Wow," you say appreciatively, running your hand from his collarbone all the way down to his belt.

"What about us?" Jisung asks.

"Patience," you murmur, "Don't you want Changbinnie to feel good?"

Jisung pouts, but says, "Yes..."

"Then you can wait your turn," you say plaintively.

"Can I kiss you, noona?" Changbin asks.

You look at him, amused. "So you heard that conversation."

Changbin shakes his head. "I knew before. Chan-hyung always calls you-"

Chan squeaks, mortified, cutting him off, but you've heard plenty.

"Oh, he always calls me noona," you purr, "Before he knew how old I was?"

"Yes," Changbin says.

That's interesting, to say the least. It means that their approach to you from the start was to defer familiar respect and treat you like an elder, rather than a peer. Hm.

You get a little closer, bringing your face up to his. "Do you talk about me a lot?"

"No," Changbin breathes, "But when we do-"

"Dude!" Chan hisses.

"Don't listen to him," you soothe Changbin, giving Chan a little wink over your shoulder, "Thank you for telling me."

You kiss Changbin, since he did ask so nicely and gave you a wonderful tidbit about Chan. He's a good kisser. Needy; he's pressing you backwards with his enthusiasm. You reach to put your arms around his neck, but then you reconsider. Instead, you fold yourself against his chest, palms flat on his pecs. It gives the illusion that you're much smaller than him, even though admittedly he's not a very tall person.

The change in his body language is instantaneous. Your hunch was right - he likes feeling big. He did say not to make digs about his size. Well, you certainly won't about his height. But his size...

You move down and begin unbuckling his belt.

"How come only he gets to get naked?" Jisung complains.

You glance at him, hands busy unbuttoning and zipping down Changbin.

"I'm not stopping you," you reply, "You could undress without permission. But you'll miss out on all the fun if you just go off on your own."

Jisung blinks doe eyes at you, and Chan huffs out a laugh.

"Some dom you are, yeah?" Chan scoffs.

You shrug. "I can't make you do anything. I'm not gonna force you."

"No?" Chan says.

"That's the fun of this stuff, isn't it?" you say.

You ruffle Changbin's hair playfully, and motion for him to continue undressing himself. Willing all the grace you know you possess, you walk over to Chan, keeping your motions fluid and careless. You want him to see exactly what kind of dom you are.

"The fact that you don't have to listen to me. That's the fun," you say, "You don't have to. But you will. You wanna be good."

Chan swallows hard. "I..."

"I'm sure you like being good," you continue, cupping Chan's face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. "You're gonna be good for me, aren't you, peach?"

"Yeah," he says, so quietly that you think you've imagined it, his cheeks burning red.

"I'm sorry," you hum, "I didn't hear that. Yes...?"

"Yes, noona," Chan says.

"Yes, what?"

"Yes, noona, I'll be good for you."

"I thought you would be," you say, satisfied. "Go sit on the bed. Against the headboard."

He looks like he wants to complain about that, but you shrug again, punctuating that you're truly not here to force anyone. Domming is about control, not force. If Chan wants to turn over control to you, he will.

And he does.

He scrambles up the bed and sits with his back against the headboard. You can feel his eyes on you, and Jisung's wide, wide eyes, as you return to Changbin.

Changbin is down to his boxer-briefs, and God, he's good-looking. Solid and masculine. You kind of just want to have your way with him and be done with it. But that's not the plan.

“Jisung,” you say.

He jumps, not expecting to be addressed. “Yeah?”

“Are you okay bottoming tonight?”

“’Course,” he affirms, “Always. For who?”

You glance at Changbin, who nods, and Jisung smiles his biggest, most genuine smile, crooked front tooth and all.

“I like this plan,” he says.

That assent is all you need to hear.

“Is there lube?” you ask Changbin.

He turns away, presumably to grab it, and you snag Jisung by the wrist and tug him toward you. Jisung's wide smile is distracting, as you have him lie down on the bed. Changbin's bed is a king, you think, a really really big mattress with plenty of room to use. But when Jisung sprawls out easily, the top of his head is close to Chan.

"You have one rule, up there," you say to Chan, "No touching."

"No touching...him?" Chan asked, pointing at Jisung.

You smile. "No touching. Him, me, 'Bin, yourself. No touching."

Chan looks wide-eyed, almost hurt at your words. You can't tell exactly how he's feeling, so you move around the bed until you're right in front of him, and take one of his hands in yours.

"Is that okay?" you ask, "Are you okay with that?"

"I'm okay," he says.

You look at Changbin, waiting by Jisung's knees at the edge of the bed, and at Jisung himself, watching you upside-down.

"Can I implement the traffic light system?" you ask them, "It's the easiest safeword system for me, I think, with so many of you."

"You mean the color thing," Changbin clarifies.

"Yeah," you nod.

"We've used that one before," says Jisung agreeably, "We don't usually use any safewords but we can do that.

You turn back to Chan. "Does that work for you?"

He smiles, and it warms up his face all the way to his eyes, so you relax.

"Yeah, that works well," he says.

"Good," you say, "So. Color?"

"Green," says Chan.

"Great."

You lean in and kiss him for his trouble, realizing with a thrill that you've really only kissed him one other time. He's damn good at it, too, eager but gentle with just enough pressure. You pull back right as he starts to really melt against you, and drop his hand back onto his lap, in favor of returning to Jisung where you've left him.

Jisung, for his part, is lounging back on his elbows, just watching you, and you nudge his knees farther apart as you settle in between them. You can feel Changbin's warmth behind you again as he hovers, not quite touching you.

"Noona," he whines.

You glance back at him, his chin at your shoulder.

"I know," you tut, "You're already doing a good job for me, gorgeous."

He beams at the praise, and repeats, "Noonaaaa."

You smile to yourself at the lilt in his voice. "You can touch, baby."

There are suddenly lips against the side of your throat, Changbin trailing kisses across your skin, and hands on your waist pulling you back gingerly, as if he's afraid you'll tell him off for being too greedy (which is a good and valid worry). You lean away, down toward Jisung, and coax him upright to peel the baggy t-shirt off him. As you get the garment over his head, you're surprised to see firm abs and pecs. Jisung is small and thin, but apparently very, very muscular. Huh.

"You've been holding out on me," you chide him.

"Don't think about it that way, noona," Jisung says, "Think of it as a nice surprise."

You huff out a laugh. He's being kind of mouthy, but it's cute, so you're gonna let it slide. Mostly.

"Are you in any position to be telling me what to do?" you tease.

Jisung shrugs, lips pursed. You tickle your fingers down the hard line of his abs, grinning when he jumps and squeaks under your touch.

"'Bin?" you ask.

"Yes?"

"Who here is overdressed?"

Changbin hums against your skin, mouthing at the soft juncture of your neck and your shoulder, and says, "Jisungie, noona. And you."

"Not Chan?" you ask lightly.

Changbin grins. You can feel the flats of his teeth against your skin.

"Not unless you say so, noona," Changbin says.

"Good call, gorgeous," you say, leaning back into his touch.

He's hard against your ass, you note. Perfect. You go for Jisung's skintight jeans next, unbuttoning and peeling the black denim down his slim thighs. He's so dainty, all thin graceful limbs, his frame small but masculine and defined. You can see his cock twitch with interest as you get the jeans all the way off, his boxers beginning to tent.

"Excited?" you ask, letting your hand trail over him, gently feeling the outline of him through the thin fabric.

"Yeah," he says, shameless.

"Who should get undressed first?" you ask Jisung,

Jisung must register something in your tone, as his big eyes look from you, to Changbin, back to you.

And then he says, "Me, noona."

"Oh," you purr, "Good boy."

You free him from his boxers, and it's not a surprise when you're met with a pretty, proportional cock, flushed and lovely. You're hit with the urge to feel the weight of him in your mouth. And fuck, this is YOUR game, isn't it? So you lean down and do just that, taking his head between your lips.

Jisung gasps, high and pretty, and you can see Chan's face above you darken. He looks...jealous?

"Peach, you okay?" you say, coming off Jisung to speak.

Chan looks at you, puppy-eyed.

"I want..." he trails plaintively.

"I know you do," you agree. “Don’t be greedy.”

He's still sitting obediently, hands balled into fists atop his thighs and not touching anything. He's the only one fully dressed, and you can tell that it's driving him crazy. He can wait. You know he can.

So you nuzzle against Jisung's stomach indulgently and ask him, "Who next?"

Jisung pauses, comprehending what you've asked, and then he says, "Changbin-hyung."

You place your hand over Changbin's where it still rests in its spot on your waist.

"You heard him, Binnie," you say, "Go 'head."

His warmth vanishes from behind you for only a few seconds before he's back, his now unencumbered cock brushing against your shorts. You grip Jisung's length again, pumping him for a moment, looking down at him with a glint in your eye.

"Here's what's going to happen," you say, standing up properly, "I'm going to prep you for Changbin, baby. And Changbin is gonna have some fun of his own while I do it."

Jisung nods his understanding at your words, his expression delighted, and Chan is all but panting as he sits pretty for you. There's a lovely flush creeping from his ears toward the neckline of his button-down shirt.

You shuck off your own shorts, left now in just your bra and panties. As you look down at yourself, you realize that while they are not a matching set, your underwear ARE about the same color, which you count as a personal victory. It's the little things.

"Hand me a pillow, peach?" you ask Chan.

He nearly topples over in his eagerness to give you a pillow from the head of the bed. You have Jisung raise his hips, and settle the pillow under him, angling him up for better access. He doesn't seem the slightest bit self-conscious, on display to you like that. You almost hate how attractive that is.

"Everyone, color?" you ask.

"Green," chirps Jisung, almost before you're done speaking.

"Green," Chan agrees.

"So green," Changbin groans from behind you, where he's still grinding against your ass.

"Wonderful," you murmur.

You turn your attention fully to the boy beneath you. Jisung is impeccably groomed, maybe even better than you, you think. There's a neat thatch of hair around the base, and he's all but hairless everywhere else. It's impressive.

You trail your hand over his balls, his perineum, to his hole, and he chokes out a moan as you just graze the thin skin there.

"Are you sure you're ready to go, Jisungie?" you ask, and he nods eagerly.

"I wanted to bottom tonight anyway," he informs you cheekily.

Chan laughs, which melts any of your lingering worries that you've overwhelming or neglecting him.

"That's true," Chan says softly. "He told us before the party."

"You guys are so much fun," you say.

The lube is laying on the comforter next to you, so you pick it up, pop the top, and coat two of your fingers in the stuff. You lean down over Jisung again, knowing how obscene you must look together, him all spread out for you and you draped over his lithe little body. You're sure both Chan, in front, and Changbin, behind, are getting an eyeful of the two of you.

"I'm gonna start," you warn Jisung.

"Finally," Jisung teases, "I was beginning to think - shit-"

He's cut off as you ease your index finger past that ring of muscle. The slide is much easier than you expected, but he still whines out in a pitch higher than you would have thought.

"You do this a lot?" you ask him, only half-teasing, slowly pumping your finger and relishing in the easy way he takes you, "You're so open."

"I do, yeah," Jisung agrees, breathless.

"And here I thought you were the bottom of the group," you say to Chan, letting a little bit of bite into your voice, wondering if they're at all into that.

Chan's flush picks back up, and he stammers, "I - mean-"

"He can be a great little hole, too," Jisung says, casually, "I wrecked him a couple days ago, didn't I, hyung?"

Still blushing furiously, Chan nods.

"Interesting," you say simply, turning your attention back to Jisung, "Hey, what happened to those pretty sounds?"

You curl your finger slightly, and Jisung lets out another gasp.

"That's more like it," you praise.

You almost wish you had a strap here, so you could do the next part yourself, too. But your actual plan is gonna be just as much fun, so you can easily be content with this.

"Noona," comes Changbin's voice.

"Yes?" you answer.

"Can I...I mean..." Changbin trails off, seeming embarrassed.

"Can you?" you prompt, amused at his sudden shyness.

"Can I make you feel good, too?" he asks.

"Oh, baby," you simper, "Of course. So good, asking for permission."

Changbin laughs breathlessly, and so does Jisung.

"Isn't he good?" you ask Jisung.

"Good," Jisung agrees, though he nearly chokes on the word.

He seems to be ready for another finger, so you draw out and press back in with two, this time. At the same time, you lean down to take his length back into your mouth. Jisung whimpers again, starting to press his hips down against your hand.

As you're bent over at the waist, pleasuring Jisung, you feel tentative fingers pulling your panties to the side. You wonder if you're going to get the warm press of a cockhead, or-

"Oh," you breathe, pulling off Jisung's cock again to collect yourself as the unmistakable trace of a tongue wanders up your core.

Changbin pulls away just as quickly as he began, and you all but groan in frustration.

"Come on, gorgeous, don't be shy," you urge.

And the tongue returns, more eager this time, as Changbin settles himself fully between your legs. You steel yourself to enjoy while also focusing on the task at hand, prepping Jisung, and keeping your wits about you. Changbin definitely doesn't seem like he's only a sub, and neither do the other two, honestly. They seem like switches, if you had to hazard a guess. It would be in poor taste to let any of them turn the tables on you, now, wouldn't it?

Your mind wanders a little as you scissor and work your two fingers, Jisung trembling and whimpering praise under you, Changbin's plush lips against your clit. How the fuck did you get here?

You're kind of floored to think that maybe an hour ago, you were at that party, bored, barely buzzed, and anonymous, or so you thought. Plain old you. And now you're here, sandwiched between two of the hot, popular guys from Physics class with the third one watching you and white-knuckling the sheets.

A surge of power sweeps through you at the thought. You're here. You have this. You deserve this. And you're gonna have a good fucking time.

"I'm ready!" Jisung is sputtering, "I'm - I'm-"

"Ready," you finish for him, bringing your focus back to the moment.

There's arousal building low in your stomach. Changbin is good with his mouth. You kind of wish you could see him while he's doing this.

"Ready for what?" you ask Jisung.

"More!" he whines, “More, Jesus, two fingers is basic!”

You pull your fingers out, which just makes him whine louder, to reapply lube. This time, you push in with three, and Jisung keens long and low.

"You know, Changbinnie," you say, making sure to keep your voice measured and casual, "You're gonna need to get wet to fit inside Jisungie's pretty hole."

Changbin pulls himself up at your words, leaving your core wet and exposed and distinctly throbbing, and he leans forward to take the lube from you. You stop him before he can take the bottle.

"That's not what I meant," you say sweetly.

There's a fraction of a second while he catches up, and then Changbin groans openly against your shoulder blade, as you continue to work your fingers steadily in and out of Jisung.

"Noona, we have condoms in Chan-hyung's room," Changbin says, "I can go-"

"No," you say, "No need."

And that's all the permission Changbin seems to need, before he's lining himself up.

"Can I?" he asks.

You coo. He hasn't missed a single beat, sweet and obedient and so ready to be good for you.

"You're so good, gorgeous," you say, "Yes, please."

He sinks into you quickly, no preamble, and you can't blame him for being eager because you're secretly just as ready for it. He's thicker than you expected, but you should have expected it, considering the rest of his body. You find yourself panting against Jisung’s hipbone, your fingers pausing inside Jisung as you enjoy the delicious stretch.

“Can I move, noona?” Changbin asks, sounding punched-out already.

“Take it slow,” you instruct him, “This is just a warmup for you, you know.”

Changbin whines under his breath but obeys you, pulling out agonizingly slowly. As you try to keep your head clear, you notice Chan shifting on the bed ahead of you, and you have an idea.

“Okay, peach,” you say, keeping your voice level, “Why don’t you come over here and have a good look?”

“A look?” Chan repeats, “At…”

You smile to yourself. “At whatever you want. Jisung is a pretty picture, I’m sure you know that.”

“And you, noona,” Changbin cuts in.

“And me?” you say, amused.

“Pretty,” says Changbin, by way of explanation, as he keeps up his slow, slow pace.

“Thanks,” you say, arching back against him, figuring he deserves a little reward.

You nod at Chan, encouraging, and he crawls off the bed and comes around behind you. You’re sure he can see everything from where he is - your fingers disappearing into Jisung’s heat, Changbin’s cock disappearing into you. The combined power of Changbin’s steady pace and Chan watching it all is a little overwhelming. You need to narrow your focus or else someone is gonna come before you intend it to happen, and that someone might just be you.

You gently pull your fingers out of Jisung’s hole, leaving him complaining behind you.

“It was just starting to get good, come on!” Jisung whines

“Patience, baby,” you say, giving Jisung a playing smack on the meat of his thigh.

You turn your head fully to look at Chan. He’s staring, transfixed, down on the place where Changbin’s cock is slowly working in and out of you. And now that your brain isn’t focusing on being careful with Jisung, the arousal is really catching up with you. You’re getting close.

Really, you reason, what’s the harm in having a little more fun for yourself?

“Jisungie,” you say, “You wanna give me a hand here?”

He looks rightfully confused, until you reach up and snap your own bra strap against your skin. Then Jisung winks at you, and reaches around to push-pull-snap open the hooks in the back in one fluid movement.

“How’d you get so good at that?” you ask him, amused. “None of your partners wear bras.”

Jisung looks offended. “Who says I don’t wear ‘em?”

“Good point.”

You shrug off the garment, now only in your panties, which aren’t doing much of anything anymore since Changbin’s fucking you around them. Jisung’s eyes are following your breasts as you readjust yourself, sitting up more and shifting your weight onto your knees. Man, your core is gonna be killing you tomorrow…

“Lock it up, baby, shit,” you tease Jisung, “How long has it been since you’ve seen tiddies?”

“That weren’t on a man? I don’t even know.”

“Hm.”

You reach down and start drawing lazy circles on your clit, and you can feel yourself clench down on Changbin at the stimulation. He gasps, and you tut at him.

“I know you can wait for me, gorgeous,” you say.

He whines, “But-”

“Changbinnie. You’re gonna let me feel good, aren’t you?” you ask him. “Don’t I deserve to cum first?”

“Yes,” he grinds out.

“Noona, can I do it?” Jisung asks suddenly.

You’re still hovering over him, all but laying on top of him, and you look down at his face. His eyes are fixed on your fingers, rubbing yourself through your underwear.

“Do what?” you ask, just to be difficult.

“Make you cum,” Jisung answers.

You take your hand off your clit and reach out to thread your fingers through Jisung’s, leading him back to the front of your panties.

“You and Binnie need to work together for this, huh?” you say, “One of you isn’t good enough? It has to be two?”

“I’m good enough,” Changbin argues.

“Shush,” you admonish, “Then prove it.”

You let your hand fall away again, as Jisung takes up the task. He slips his fingers down your waistband, circling hard and tight over your clit. Changbin, obedient to the end, is still somehow keeping up those slow, deep strokes that you demanded. And you have to admit: they’re determined to prove it.

“Jesus, noona,” Changbin whines.

“You’re not gonna cum yet,” you instruct.

“I know.”

Jisung meets Changbin’s eye over your shoulder; you can tell that’s what he’s doing from the smirk on Jisung’s face and the muttered shut up that Changbin stifles into your neck. He gets up on his knees, and you find yourself pressed between them, your forehead against Jisung’s breastbone as his fingers work under you. You glance up, intending to tell Jisung off for making his next move on his own, but the vision you see knocks that idea right out of your head.

They’re making out over you.

It’s so beautifully desperate, Changbin biting and panting into Jisung’s mouth and whining under it all as he fucks into you, Jisung with one hand fisted in Changbin’s hair and the other still dutifully circling your clit, wet and dirty. As you feel your peak coming on, you remember the last member of your party, poor Chan, still relegated to his spectator’s spot behind you all, still under orders not to touch. You look up at him, and God, you wish you had looked sooner.

Chan is standing there, hands cemented at his sides. He’s flushed from the tips of his ears all the way down his neck, to his chest, creeping under his shirt, and his eyes are hungry. But he’s being good, no matter how much he wants to move.

He’s still being good, and that’s what sends you over the edge. You drop your head back down against Jisung’s chest, and gasp and shake your way through your own orgasm. Changbin lets out a moan that borders on a shout, as you surprise him with your clenching walls, and he slows down even more, just grinding into you. There’s something so bone-deep satisfying about it, all three of the boys with their eyes on you and unable to do anything without your permission. They just have to watch and hold back.

You wait until you can speak properly before you say anything to them.

“You didn’t cum, did you, gorgeous?” you ask, swiveling your oversensitive pussy back on Changbin, spots swimming in your vision from how hard you came.

“No, noona,” Changbin says, and his voice is thin with strain but confident.

You know he didn’t, but it’s satisfying to make him say it. He’s holding still now, just standing there stuffing you full. That orgasm cleared your head a bit; you feel more centered than ever. And you feel a little bit bad for Chan, honestly. He’s gotten the least attention from you so far.

“I think Channie really wishes he was you two right now. What d’you think, peach?” you ask, directing the last part at Chan.

Chan doesn’t answer right away, which is just as well, because you can see his erection straining against his dark jeans. His eyes are fixed between your legs, where you can feel your own wetness inching obscenely out around Changbin’s cock.

“I asked you a question,” you say, louder, and Chan looks at your face instead of your pussy.

“I think I’ve been good, noona,” Chan says quietly.

“Let’s get a second opinion, hm?” you say.

You peel Changbin’s hands off your waist and scoot away from him, pulling yourself off his dick, and push Jisung away to give yourself some room. You settle beside Jisung, who sits back down against the mattress and leans on his elbows to look at the rest of you.

“But noonaaaa,” Changbin whines.

“You got some already,” you admonish. “Don’t be greedy.”

Changbin pouts at you, and you reach out and squish his cheeks in your hand. He just lets you do it, and you lean in and kiss his lips. He deserves it, and more.

“So. Consensus,” you say, “Has Channie been good?”

“Not as good as me,” Changbin mutters.

You laugh, and turn to Jisung expectantly for his answer.

“I think so,” Jisung says, “He listens to you much better than he listens to me.”

“How honest,” you say.

You turn and swing one leg over Jisung’s torso, only hesitating for a second as you factor in your body weight on top of his dainty little body and then deciding it doesn’t matter. You sit up straight, facing Jisung so that you can see his expression, trapping his bare cock between your folds, still kind of covered in your stretched and soaked panties, and his stomach.

“Oh, Jesus,” Jisung wheezes, throwing his head back.

“They’re really roasting you,” you say to Chan conversationally, as if you’re not torturing Jisung in the same moment.

“I’m used to it,” he replies, giving you a sheepish smile that shows his deep dimples.

His casual admission is strangely charming, and it makes you smile back. You grind down on Jisung just for a second, just to hear the noise that he makes. He doesn't disappoint, a whine coming up from his chest as his hands scrabble at the sheets. He doesn't touch you, even though you haven't said that he can't. The faultless obedience is thrilling.

"Are you ready for a little more?" you ask Jisung, nodding toward Changbin.

"A little?" Changbin protests.

You send him a wink, realizing the stupid joke. "Oh, come on, that wasn't a dig."

"Thin ice, noona," he mutters.

You raise an eyebrow at that. "Excuse me?"

"Biting the hand that feeds you, hyung," Jisung sing-songs, tilting his head up.

"Jisungie, you talk too much," you tease.

You shift over Jisung so that the head of his cock prods at your entrance. You're still wet and messy from all of their handiwork, and Jisung keens.

"We don't need him, do we?" you nod over your shoulder at Changbin.

"I mean, I was looking forward to the dicking, but - oh shit" Jisung moans, as you reach down and pull your panties aside properly, and let the very tip of him slip inside you.

"This isn't the plan," Changbin complains.

You smile at him sweetly. "I just don't want anyone to forget who's in charge here."

You climb off Jisung, leaving him whining in your wake, and move up to the spot at the head of the bed where you'd sat Chan earlier. The three boys watch as you settle cross-legged, casual as anything.

"I think," you say, resting your chin in your hand and your elbow on your knee, "I think that I just want to watch for a while."

All three of them, Changbin and Chan standing side by side and Jisung sitting half-upright, look at you with matching wide eyes. You tut, looking right back at them and silently making up your mind.

"Come here, peach," you say, making grabby hands at Chan.

He complies easily, coming back up the bed toward you, and you uncross your legs to make some room, patting the mattress in front of you. Chan pauses, kneeling between your open legs, and you turn him around gently by the shoulders. You sit him down with his back pressed to your chest. He's still fully dressed, even after everything that’s gone on, and his silky black shirt is cool and soft against your bare skin. His broad shoulders cover you entirely, but he melts against you, sliding down a little so that his head rests at the crook of your neck, curly black hair against your cheek.

"Jisungie, Binnie?" you say, "I want you to put on a good show for me while I give this poor baby boy some attention."

You let your hands wander to the top button on Chan's shirt. It's not the top button, really, because he's got the first three undone already to show a span of pale toned chest. So you unbutton the next one, and crawl your fingers down to the next, too.

"So I can," Changbin starts, "I can-"

"Yes," you nod, "But neither of you can cum until I say so. Okay?"

"Okay," says Jisung eagerly.

"You have to earn it," you warn, "A good show."

Jisung and Changbin look at each other, significantly, like they're silently concocting their own plan. You decide you can get a hand on that ball, too.

"Channie, wouldn't they be pretty if they kissed for us?" you ask, murmuring right into Chan's ear.

He nods eagerly, and you pop another shirt button. You glance down at Chan's torso, completely bare to you now, all pale smooth skin and chiseled abs. So you ease the silky shirt off his shoulders, down his arms, and discard it off the side of the bed.

By the time you look back up, Jisung has Changbin pinned to the bed, straddling his waist and kissing him right into the mattress.

"Oh," you say mildly, "Promising start, hm?"

You stroke up and down Chan's abs with your fingertips, and he laughs gently.

"They're always like this," he says.

"Thirsty?"

"Out of control," he corrects.

Jisung breaks away from Changbin's mouth, frowning at Chan. "You love it, you asshole. You're just as bad."

Chan nestles back into you more and doesn't say anything, but you can see an answering half-smile creeping over his face. Changbin takes advantage of the distraction to flip Jisung over onto his back, finally flexing the strength you know he has, and bends Jisung nearly in half. His knees are up by his shoulders, and his face is more than a little alarmed.

"Hey, I'm not that bendy!" Jisung protests.

"Yeah, you are," Changbin shushes, "Do you wanna cum or not?"

You grin. "Come on, then."

With a big upside-down sigh, Jisung looks at you, while Changbin digs around in the sheets for the lube.

"You see what I have to deal with?" Jisung asks you, "They're so good and nice for you, and for me? This disrespect. I don't even know - OH-"

Jisung cuts off, and it's obvious what's happening from the way Changbin's hands fly down to Jisung's hips and Jisung's back arches up to meet him. You hum your satisfaction, taking in the blissful expression on Changbin's face, and the sweat already beading at Jisung's hairline.

But you quickly realize that you can't see nearly well enough. They're laying up the bed properly, feet at the foot and Jisung's head against the mattress near yours and Chan's intertwined legs. But if they were perpendicular to you...

"Okay, gorgeous," you coo, and Changbin's head snaps up at the sound of the pet name, "Turn around on the bed so that I can see exactly how nice Jisungie fits around you."

It takes a second, but Changbin processes your words with a slow blink, and grabs Jisung's hips to unceremoniously turn them ninety degrees. Now they're laying across the bed widthwise, and you have a delightful view of Changbin's thick cock sinking into Jisung smoothly. He's set a brutal pace, snapping against Jisung's narrow hips with a force that makes you clench around nothing. He’s obviously making up for the painfully slow pace you made him take on you. It's quiet enough that all you can hear is the perverse squelch of lube and the tiny breathy sighs Jisung makes every time Changbin bottoms out.

"Jesus," Chan breathes, and you nearly jump out of your skin; despite the weight of him on you, you've all but forgotten about him while you're taking in the view in front of you.

"How do they look?" you ask him, reaching up to card your fingers through his hair.

"So good," Chan answers, "So - ah-"

You tug his curls gently, and Chan arches his neck back so that his head rests fully on your shoulder.

"Noona," Changbin says with an edge of desperation in his voice, pulling your attention back to him, "Noona, I'm not, I can't-"

"You gotta hold on for me, gorgeous," you coax.

Changbin nods, digging his fingers into Jisung's hips and making his poor boyfriend squeak at the added pressure. He sits back on his heels, pulling Jisung with him, so that he’s almost upright, giving you a delightful view of their bodies meeting. It makes you groan to yourself, waves of arousal peeling through your gut.

You reach down to undo Chan’s belt and jeans, and it only takes a moment to rid him of those, too. He’s ridiculously hard in his black boxers, and as you palm him through the fabric, you have to admit that he’s the biggest of the three of them.

“Who’s gonna cum first?” you ask Chan.

He drags his eyes away from the sight of Jisung’s arched back, the faint bruises forming under Changbin’s hands, and looks up at you.

“I don’t know,” he murmurs.

“I think Jisung’s earned it,” you decide, “Peach, you wanna give him a hand?”

“Not him,” Jisung gasps.

Chan looks affronted. “Hey!”

“Noona please,” Jisung begs. “Please!”

“Oh, you want me?” you ask, smirking.

Jisung nods, gasping and screwing his eyes shut as Changbin keeps up that punishing pace. You can have mercy on him, can’t you?

Chan leans forward so you can wiggle out from behind him, and you sit back on your heels beside Changbin and Jisung. The view is even better up close: Changbin’s muscles bunching and expanding, Jisung rocking up the bed with every thrust. Changbin’s gorgeous face furrowed in concentration. Jisung’s rim contracting obscenely around the cock still working in and out of him.

You feel delightfully gross, wonderfully perverse and voyeuristic, and you lean down to kiss Jisung. He kisses back like he’s starving, panting into your mouth.

“Pretty boy,” you say, right against his lips, “Do you want to cum?”

Jisung nods, his eyes barely focusing on you, the attention going right to his head. “Yes, noona!”

“What do you need to cum?” you ask him.

“Your…hand, noona, or your mouth, please,” Jisung whines.

You smile at him, leaning in for one more kiss. “You can cum when you’re ready, baby.”

“Yes, noona.”

One down, one to go. You shuffle so that you’re sitting face to face with Changbin and he all but falls forward to kiss you, his hips not even stuttering as they drive forward. His singular focus is impressive. You let Changbin press messy open-mouth kisses against your lips, your cheeks, as you finally wrap a hand around Jisung’s cock.

His whole body jumps when you start jerking him quickly. It only takes two, three, four pumps before Jisung is babbling, begging for your permission even though you’ve already given it.

“Noona, I’m going to – please let me cum, I need it, I need-”

“Go ahead, pretty baby, cum for me,” you say.

That’s all it takes for Jisung to come into your hand with a shout, loud and high-pitched and cracking in the middle. His voice is a rush of power, like adrenaline in your veins, and you keep up your pace, stroking him through his orgasm. You look to Changbin next, watching him as he throws his head back and moans openly at the feeling of Jisung coming around him. His eyes are wide open, still, and he finds your gaze as he finally begins to lose his pace. This is the second person’s orgasm he’s had to ride out, poor thing. It almost makes you want to keep going, see how long he can last…

“I-” he stutters, “I want…”

“Ask nicely,” you instruct.

“I want to cum, noona,” Changbin pleads.

“That doesn’t sound like asking nicely.”

Changbin makes a tiny sound of despair, and tries again, “Please, may I cum, noona? I’ve – God – I’ve been good, haven’t I? Please?”

He’s beautiful, begging so nicely for you. You bring up your hand that’s covered in Jisung’s cum and nudge the dirty fingers against his lips. Without hesitating, Changbin sucks two fingers into his mouth, his tongue working between the digits.

“Filthy,” you coo.

Changbin just whines around your fingers.

“Who are you cumming for, Binnie?” you ask, taking your hand back.

“You.”

“Hm?” you feign ignorance.

“You!”

“Who?”

“You, noona,” he moans.

“Okay, gorgeous, you can cum.”

“Thank you.”

With a final moan that sounds an awful lot like your name, Changbin cums, making Jisung whine out in his high, cracked little voice at the feeling of it. You lean back, just watching and enjoying, as they both come down.

Two down, one to go.

Chan is still waiting for you, though you wouldn’t doubt that he’s a little less patient than he was at the beginning of the session. He’s sitting back against the headboard again when you turn around, just watching you. You notice that he’s actually sitting on top of his hands, and you smile disdainfully at him.

“Oh, peach,” you say, “Are you so fucking desperate that you have to sit on your pretty little hands, to keep from disobeying me?”

“I’ve listened to you, noona,” Chan says.

“Is it so hard for you to be good?” you chide.

“It’s not!” he insists weakly.

“Shit, I think we could go again,” Jisung comments offhandedly, breaking your train of thought.

You look at him, suppressing your smile in favor of a cool stare. “Can you not let me deal with our sweet peach for two fucking minutes?”

“I’m just sayin’,” Jisung defends, holding up his hands in surrender. “Refractory period? Great.”

You decide to ignore Jisung and his big mouth. Chan deserves some undivided attention, and you planned right from the start that you’d have him like this.

Rolling your eyes in Jisung’s direction, you crawl over and take hold of Chan’s boxers, and pull them down his pale pretty legs and off. He looks distinctly shy when he’s finally fully naked for you, so you return the favor by slipping off your ruined panties. You can feel two sets of eyes on your ass as you maneuver yourself onto Chan’s lap.

You’re delighted to find that if you sit up perfectly straight, you’re taller than him. Tall enough that he has to tilt his head back to look at you. He’s all wide brown eyes and handsome flushed skin, and you stare down at him fondly.

“What do you want, peach?” you ask.

“You…” Chan trails.

You walk your hand up his shoulder, up into his hair, and tug at the back of his head. He tilts his chin up, leaning into the action, exposing his long beautiful neck to you. You can’t help it – you lean in and indulgently bite into the skin on the side of his throat.

“What about me?” you ask against his flesh.

You can feel Chan swallow. “I want…to fuck you, noona.”

“I know you can ask nicely.”

As you trail down and add another bite under the first, leaving your mark behind on his porcelain skin, Chan shows you just how well he can ask.

“Please, noona,” he breathes, “I can make you feel good, like Changbinnie, better than Changbinnie, wanna fuck you so good and fill-”

He cuts off with an embarrassed whimper, as if he’d almost let something slip. Unluckily for him, you have a pretty good idea what he was about to say.

“Oh, peach, you’re dirty,” you purr.

“I’m sorry, I-” Chan sputters, but you cut him off.

“No, no, no, no,” you shush him, “I like it.”

You lift yourself up slightly so that you can reach down and line him up with your pussy, and without preamble, you sink down on him. You know you’re still wet and sloppy from before, and Chan groans shamelessly as you settle your hips firmly against his.

“You can have me, but you’re doing all the work,” you inform him.

Apparently, that’s no problem for Chan, because he plants his feet on the mattress for leverage and begins pistoning upwards into you. You rise onto your knees slightly to meet him, making him work harder, rise higher to chase what he wants.

His pace is brutal, his hips moving precise and intense against yours, and you’re shocked to feel a second, penetrative orgasm rising on its own. You’re still so sensitive from cumming the first time, you know you’re not going to last very long. But Chan is having a similar problem.

“I’m not…I’m not going to last, noona, I’m-” Chan moans, sounding embarrassed by it.

You coo at him. His self-consciousness, even this far into a scene, is so endearing.

“Did you get all worked up watching Jisung and Changbin have their fun?” you ask, patronizing.

Chan nods, throwing his head all the way back as he chases his high, driving into you hard. “So good, noona, it was so good…”

You glance over your shoulder at the other two, the mention of them making you wonder what they’re up to, unattended over there, and you’re met with quite the scene.

“It seems like they’re enjoying us, too,” you say.

Chan brings his head forward again with what seems like a tremendous amount of effort, and peels his eyes open. When he sees his boyfriends behind you, his breakneck pace finally stutters.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Oh, Jesus Christ-”

Jisung is standing beside the bed, bracing himself against the wall like he’ll collapse if left only to his own strength. Which is valid, because Changbin is knelt between his legs, Jisung’s cock down his throat and Jisung’s hand on the back of his head, guiding him.

“They weren’t kidding about being ready another round,” you joke, and to your utter delight, Chan laughs.

“And I wasn’t kidding about – noona, fuck,” Chan whimpers, “I’m not – can I cum, noona?”

You hum. “You wanna fill me up, peach?”

Chan’s breath hitches at your words, and if it’s even possible, he begins fucking into you harder. He’s hitting you just right inside, cockhead brushing against that delicious spot and making stars dance in your vision. You can count on one hand how many times you’ve cum just from a partner like this, and you’re salivating at the idea of it. You’re so damn close.

“Yes,” he whines, “Noona please let me, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise, fill you up with my cum and – and-”

“You’ve waited long enough for me, peach,” you say, reaching up to cup his face in both of your hands, forcing him to meet your eyes. “Cum.”

On command, like the good boy he is, Chan cries out, high pitched and absolutely beautiful, and cums. And then, surprise of surprises, he snakes one hand down between the two of you and finds your clit, rubbing into the poor sore nerves like he might die if he doesn’t make you cum.

And you do. You can’t even choke down the squeak of “Chan, oh, fuck!” as you clamp down on him, pleasure bursting behind your eyelids like fireworks and warming you all the way down to your toes.

As your orgasm fades and the world comes back into focus around you, the first thing you see is Chan’s self-satisfied little smile. That smug bastard…

You grin back at him, pushing him away by the chest, “Shut up.”

Gingerly, you climb off his softening cock and off his lap entirely, to throw yourself down haphazardly on the bed. Chan collapses across you, landing heavy over your legs and making you protest for your poor ankles.

“I can confidently say, that was fantastic,” comes Chan’s muffled voice, facedown in the mattress as he is.

“Seconded,” says Jisung.

You tilt your head back to see Jisung and Changbin peering down at you, both looking heavy-eyed and swollen-lipped. They look as drained as you feel, and just as satisfied.

“That was a hell of a show, (Y/N)-noona,” Changbin says.

“Glad you liked it, I worked really hard,” you tease. “Does anyone need water? Food?”

“Cuddles,” mumbles Chan.

“Yeah, you have to stay the night, noona, aftercare and cuddling is non-negotiable,” Jisung agrees.

Changbin nods. “We’re even better at that than the sex.”

It shouldn’t be as touching as it is that they want you to stay. But fondness wells up in your chest, soft delight that they seem to enjoy your platonic company just as much as your sexual company. But this bed is disgusting. Changbin needs to wash his sheets, there’s no way you can sleep here in the miasma of lube and bodily fluids.

And besides, the four of you need to talk about all of this at some point. You’re still their classmate, after all, at least until the end of the semester, and an impromptu hookup like this can lead to some real awkward class meetings. Some pillow talk, some cuddles, and some Gatorade are all in order here.

So you smile, wide and honest and mischievous, and stand up on shaky legs to head for the bedroom door. The boys look confused at your seemingly sudden departure, and you cock a thumb at the other bedroom, across the hall.

“Now, Channie, where’s that pillow fort I heard so much about?”

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