#If This Is a Rom-Com (Kill the Director) | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

jellysmosh · 1 month ago

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I’ve Met Someone That Makes Me Feel Seasick

Summary: Why was it that every single time you saw your cute new neighbour you absolutely embarrassed yourself? Vaguely inspired by the song Kill the Director by The Wombats.

Pairing: Spencer Agnew x GN!Reader

Tags: Fluff, neighbours, silly rom-com vibes

Word count: 4.9k

Note: Hi! I haven’t written fanfic for years and this is my first time writing something for Smosh, so please be gentle with me lol. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!

☆

You were a retired hopeless romantic.

You were no longer big on romance. It wasn’t that you weren’t interested in potentially dating in the future, you just were not really keen to date right now. For the past few years you’d gone through your fair share of weird talking stages and situationships that kept leaving you more drained and emptier than the last. Unfortunately, the single men in the current dating pool brought you nothing but disappointment with a side of psychological trauma.

It was after you broke things off with your last partner/situation/ball and chain that you decided that maybe a celibacy oath was the way to go. Not only did you catch him texting other girls on Instagram, they weren’t even replying to his desperate messages. Somehow the failed attempt to cheat was more disgusting to you than the actual act of cheating. The optimistic side of you chose to push through and sail past the red flags only to find this guy was just as awful as your friends predicted. That was your problem for most of your life: you were full of hope and second chances and unconditional love (which is dangerous without the critical thinking skills to go with it).

But no more! You have had enough of men stepping all over you. You were tired of being used for your love and attention and emotional support, and if that meant you were going to be single for the rest of your life, so be it! That beats spending it with some guy working in finance whose opening line on Tinder was ‘you tryna send pics or nah?’ Your single era started now.

☆

Anti-Romance Day 30 was looking good until it wasn’t.

It was a rainy Saturday with no plans, which meant staying holed up in your apartment and watching movies in your pyjamas. Against your better judgment, you selected a romantic comedy, carefully opening a bag of popcorn fresh out of the microwave as How to Lose a Guy in 10 Days started up on your television.

By the end of the film, you were choking on tears at the thought of your failed love life as Kate Hudson and Matthew McConaughey made out on screen. This was a mistake, nothing made you yearn for romantic company more than a sappy movie. You wanted to dramatically curse at the universe for making real life dating such a complete hellscape.

Was it even the men who were the problem here? What if you were just undateable? What if you were such an awful potential partner that you only attracted the weirdo freaks and all the good ones hit skip?

You shook your head to clear it.

There was no point thinking like that when you knew it wasn’t true. You were attentive and loving and communicated very well, all the ideal components of the perfect partner. Your cooking was… questionable, but you gave great hugs!

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone ringing.

It was your UberEats delivery man and he was pissed. Apparently the instructions you sent him to get to your apartment were too hard to understand, and you had to go down and meet him or he was going to drive away with your KFC family meal (don’t judge). In fear of losing your money and fried chicken, you practically flew out your apartment to retrieve your food from the lobby. Walking from the elevator back to your apartment, you make an earth shattering realisation, you forgot to grab your front door key before going to get your food.

A few things about this situation: your key fob to access the building and elevator were on your car keys (currently in hand), and your front door key was strapped to your bag (currently inside the apartment). Also, your apartment door was one of those heavy duty ones that automatically locked from the outside. To summarise: you were fucked.

“Shit!” You practically shouted, tightening your grip on the paper KFC bag, “fuuuck!”

“Uh, are you okay?”

You jumped in surprise. In all the chaos, you didn’t even notice that the door to the apartment next to yours was propped open and a man stood just inside the doorway, staring at you. He was holding a cardboard box with both hands, brown curls peeking out from under a baseball cap, wireframe glasses sitting in front of deep green eyes, and a confused expression on his face. He was so cute.

“Who are you?” You blurted out without thinking, your cheeks immediately flushing, “sorry, I mean- I thought Old Mr Chan lived here.”

“Oh, he moved out”, the stranger replied. He turned to place the box down on a nearby table before stepping out of the apartment. “My name is Spencer, I’m moving in today”, he held his hand out and you tentatively shook it with your free hand.

“I’m Y/N. Sorry about earlier”, you sighed, of course the first time you met your new neighbour was at a time like this. You were hyper aware of the fact that he probably watched you stand in the hallway cursing at your door while holding a giant KFC bag, hair greasy, in your Hello Kitty print pyjama pants, eyes obviously red from your little crying session a few minutes ago.

“No worries”, he smiled, oh god, his smile was beautiful. “I’m assuming you’re my neighbour?” He glanced at your asshole of a front door. “Why were you swearing at it?”

You sank even deeper into your embarrassment as you explained the situation to him. Talk about first impressions.

“Oh!” An idea popped into your head and Spencer looked at you expectantly. “What if I go through your apartment onto your fire escape and then like shimmy across to my window along the ledge-“

“What?” He exclaimed, eyebrows raised, “are you crazy? No way, that’s so dangerous. And are you sure your window’s unlocked?”

You paused.

“Yeah, you’re right… Do I really need to call a locksmith?” You scrunched up your nose. You could feel Spencer still looking at you and it made you extra self conscious. You knew you looked insane right now.

He hummed in thought. “The building manager was meant to come by in a bit to drop some stuff off for me, maybe you can ask him to help you out when he comes?”

You perked up a little, “yes! Sounds good!” You smiled at him despite yourself. You may have given a terrible first impression to your new neighbour, but at least you would probably get back inside your apartment today.

After some only slightly awkward small talk with Spencer, the building manager arrived and after explaining the whole mess, shot you a disappointed look and went to retrieve the spare key to your apartment.

“You’re a lifesaver”, you gushed to the building manager, offering him a now cold chicken tender which he rejected before grumpily entering the elevator. You were just happy your front door was now open, merrily sliding inside, you called out, “welcome to the building, Spencer!”

For a second, the sweet smile he showed you in response made you forget that you looked a mess and was just having an emotional breakdown. Your cheeks turned red as the door clicked shut.

☆

“Coming!” You yelled out, abandoning the dishes you were washing and jogging over to your front door after hearing the doorbell ring. You checked the peephole only to find Spencer standing there, hands in pockets, waiting.

You gulped. The situation where you were locked out with a big bag of fried chicken had happened a couple weeks ago and you hadn’t really spoken to Spencer since. You saw him only a couple times in the hall and you did not exchange much besides quiet ‘hello’s and nods of acknowledgment. You took a deep breath and swung the door open.

“Spencer! Hi!” You tried to smile like a normal person. “What’s up?”

“Hey, Y/N”, he looked at you with those pretty eyes and you silently thanked god you weren’t dressed in pyjamas this time. “Sorry to randomly pop over like this.”

“It’s fine”, you waved your hand, pretending to be nonchalant, “what can I help you with?”

“I’m totally being a bother but could I please borrow a couple eggs?” He sheepishly grinned, slightly rocking back and forth on his feet as if he was embarrassed this time, “I’m in the middle of cooking something and I didn’t realise I was out.”

“Sure”, you opened the door wider for him, “come in, I’ll go grab them for you.”

Now was it wise to let an almost stranger into your apartment? No. Was it neighbourly though? Kind of!

He thanked you before following you into your apartment. He even left his shoes at the door upon noticing all your shoes sitting on racks right next to it. You were flattered by his observance, it had been a while since a man with any kind of consideration of your habits and taste had been in your residence.

You led him to the kitchen.

“I’m certain I have some in the fridge”, you said over your shoulder, “I get through them pretty slowly.”

“Your place is really nice”, he complimented you while walking through the kitchen doorway. You glanced over at the mismatched chairs at your dining table and the clock on the wall painted to look like a pizza. You couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not.

“Thanks…”, you murmured tentatively, “I don’t often hear that honestly-“

Your sentence got cut off when you slipped on the small puddle under your shitty kitchen sink left from when you were doing the dishes. You were midair just for a half second before landing on your butt.

“Oh my god”, Spencer rushed over to you, “are you alright?”

You groaned at the literal pain in your ass.

“Yep”, you choked out as if your tailbone wasn’t killing you, “just a little trip, I’m all good.”

He helped you up anyway, hands steady but touch soft. You felt yourself blushing at the contact, suddenly realising this was the first time he had touched you since your initial handshake. Once you were upright again, you turned your head toward him and felt your heart jump at how close he was to you. If you wanted to, you could have counted his eyelashes. You immediately broke eye contact and sped over to the fridge, this time making sure to step around the water on the floor.

“U-um, just two eggs, was it?” You shoved your face into your fridge, both checking how many eggs were in the carton and hoping the cold air would cool your face down.

You heard Spencer clear his throat after a pause, “yeah, yeah, just two.”

You handed him the eggs as he replied with a soft ‘thanks’, and on his way out he seemed to hesitate. Stopping halfway out the door, he turned to face you.

“Not that I was, like, purposely looking or anything”, he said quietly, eyes not meeting yours, “but I think when you slipped, you landed in the puddle because there’s a wet patch on the- uh… back of your jeans.”

You blankly stared at him.

“Just thought I should let you know before you sit down and make your couch wet or something”, he finally looked you in the eye again and he also seemed to flush when he saw your clear embarrassment.

“Thanks for letting me know”, your voice came out almost like a squeak. He nodded as he thanked you again for the eggs and scurried off back to his apartment next door.

Once your door shut again, you felt the back of your pants. Yup, your entire ass was wet.

Look on the bright side, you thought to yourself as you unzipped them so they could dry off of your body, at least he knew it was water and you didn’t have to convince him you didn’t pee your pants. You dryly chuckled to yourself as you stood in your underwear, hanging your jeans on a clothes rack.

No romance, you thought to yourself, don’t even let yourself think about it.

☆

“I really don’t know if we can fix it”, Spencer furrowed his brow. He was bent down next to you as your hands fumbled around the pipes under his sink with one hand and a wrench clasped in the other.

You two had been speaking to each other more since he saw you with a big wet patch on your ass. You had exchanged numbers in the elevator a few days after, Spencer claimed it was in case you got locked out again or he needed more eggs. Brief text conversations every now and then gave way to livelier elevator conversations and amicable chats in the hallway. You would consider him an almost-friend at this point and you were glad you were getting along well with him, despite you embarrassing yourself seemingly every single time you interacted.

And here you were, knelt down in his kitchen after texting back and forth about his sink no longer working.

“Have some faith”, you murmured, preoccupied with fiddling with a valve you located on the side of a pipe.

“Do you know anything about plumbing?” He asked incredulously, running a hand through his unruly hair. It was late Sunday morning, and he had clearly not styled it. Your heart rate had picked up when you saw him, in his sweatpants and messy bed head, it felt so intimate to see him not done up and ready to leave his house. You had ignored the thumping in your chest and followed him to the kitchen.

“Well… no”, you leaned back, grinning at him. That earned a loud laugh from him that caught you a bit off guard. Even his laugh was cute, that was so unfair. “But I think we can D.I.Y this, maybe we should check YouTube?” You stood up to grab your phone off the counter and he laughed again.

“You want to check YouTube?” His tone indicated he didn’t seem to take your suggestion seriously.

“What?” You were playfully defensive, “I go there for all kinds of tutorials, it’s great. I love YouTube!”

He got up to stand next to you, watching over your shoulder as you opened the app.

“Yeah, me too”, he muttered, “I kinda work there.”

“What?” You looked away from your screen to address him. He was closer than you realised, head hovering over your shoulder. You willed your heartbeat to slow down lest he heard it. “I didn’t know you worked at YouTube.”

“Well, not at YouTube. I work for a YouTube channel”, he pointed at your phone, “don’t worry about that right now, I’ll tell you about it later. Try finding something that will help us fix my sink please.”

He said he was going to tell you about it later. He wanted to talk to you later. You felt like you could float out the window and fly away. You pushed the feeling down and made sure your feet were solidly planted on the floor.

“Oh right”, you locked back in, searching for a video that looked helpful. After skimming through a few, you had a bit of an idea. “Okay, let’s try checking that thingy pipe and if that doesn’t work, we might need to do more research.”

“So technical”, Spencer replied, bemused. His eyes sparkled when he smiled.

“Well, if this fails, you can come over and use my kitchen while it gets fixed”, you tried your best to keep your tone level, as if the image of Spencer cooking in your kitchen didn’t make you giddy with excitement. “My sink works perfectly fine.”

“Yeah, I know”, Spencer laughed, referring to the last time he was there.

You looked away from him, flustered. You swung your wrench around a bit and headed back to the sink before he could notice. He watched as you bent down. You decided you probably needed to get as low as possible to find the pipe they were talking about in the video. You squatted down as deep as you could go and froze. A loud ripping noise stopped you in your tracks.

“Uh oh”, Spencer chimed from behind you and you didn’t dare to turn around to see his expression.

You closed your eyes. This couldn’t be happening. You were so sure today was going to go well, you had visions of hanging out with him and him being so impressed you could fix his sink. It was meant to be the start of your redemption arc. Well, it looked like things had headed in the opposite direction because you had just fucking ripped your pants like a cartoon character.

“There’s no way”, you whispered in disbelief, “there is absolutely no way that just happened.”

You slowly stood and turned to see Spencer leaning against the opposite counter, eyes on the ceiling.

“Oh, it definitely did”, he was so clearly trying to hold in his laughter. “I’m not looking so you can preserve your modesty.”

Your face was beet red, feeling the backside of the pair of old jeans that had failed you twice in the span of a couple weeks.

“Shit, did you see my underwear?”

“I don’t want to lie to you…”

“Spencer!”

“I’m sorry!” He put his hands up in surrender, failing to hold in his giggles now, “I didn’t mean to! How was I supposed to know you were planning on splitting your pants on my kitchen floor?”

You groaned in frustration, hands covering your crotch. He looked back down at you, hands still in the air. You stared at each other before you both burst into laughter. As embarrassed as you were, the situation was far too funny for you to take it seriously. You were both doubled over with tears in your eyes.

“You took playing plumber too literally”, he gasped out, “you showed crack and everything.”

“No, I did not!” You shouted, tears of laughter spilling down your face.

Once the hysteria passed, Spencer lent you a sweater to tie around your waist in case somebody in the hall saw you with your pants crotch split open.

“You should probably call the building manager”, you said to him as he walked you to his door, “I fear I’m not cut out to be a handyman.”

“Yeah, not really,” he said bluntly, but the smile on his face was wide.

“I’ll give your sweater back later today”, you stood just outside his door, he leaned against the doorframe.

“It’s okay, you can hold onto it for a while”, he replied. The softness in his voice made your stomach turn in a way that was both pleasant and upsetting. “I have to head out later and run some errands so I won’t be here.”

You had this urge to ask to hang out with him a little longer, to ask if you could come with him to run his errands, to prolong the time you spent with him as much as you could. He had this gravitational pull that made you want to stay in his orbit. But you knew that feeling well and it had gotten you tangled up in too many messes for you to count. You steadied your emotions again.

“No problem”, you shrugged, like it meant nothing to you that you had his sweater on you. “Thanks again!”

You waved as you side-stepped over to your own apartment. He lingered in the doorway for a little longer, watching you unlock your door. You could feel his eyes on you, you wondered if he was staring because you looked good or completely ridiculous. You glanced at him one more time before entering your apartment. He looked like he wanted to say something more but crossed his arms and smiled instead.

“See you, Y/N.”

“Bye, Spencer.”

☆

Texting Spencer slowly became part of your everyday routine. It was one of the highlights of your day - random thoughts, memes, both of you complaining about stuff happening at work. He had taken up a comfortable spot in your mind and he didn't show any signs of leaving soon. You had begun to value him so much as a friend, you tried your hardest to ignore any kind of romantic attraction you felt for him.

Like you had decided before, you were taking a break from romance anyway. He had become such a good friend to you that you were focussing more on getting close to him platonically.

You felt like you could tell him anything. You had both opened up to each other over the past weeks. He had told you all about his work at Smosh, the pressure he felt that kept him up at night sometimes, but also the absolute blast he had working with the people he loved so much. You had told him about your terrible luck for your entire dating history and the conclusion you came to recently that being single for the rest of your life was on the table, but at the same time, the tumultuous nature of your love life had brought your close friends even closer. You had shared these moments with him where you felt like time was standing still, smiling at your phone in the dark while in bed, hushed conversations in the hallway walking from the elevator to your doors, smiling tiredly at each other in the lobby before work on a Monday morning.

You loved spending time with him, whether it was 30 minutes or 30 seconds. But sometimes his cute smile made you feel like you couldn’t breathe, his charming sense of humour made you feel like you were being knocked off your feet, and when those beautiful eyes gazed at you with all his attention, it made you feel positively seasick.

Shit.

☆

You had a day off work and you spent it doing a bit of shopping (you needed new jeans) and got home in the afternoon to a few texts from Spencer. He was going to get back to his place in about half an hour and asked if you wanted to have dinner together. This was not anything new, a huge perk of becoming good friends with your neighbour is that you got to hang out whenever you wanted.

‘Sure thing’, you texted back, ‘bring some takeaway and you can choose the movie.’

‘Deal.’

Less than an hour later, you heard your doorbell chime and then he was handing you a bag of food from Homestate while kicking off his boots. It just felt so easy, letting him into your space, making you belly laugh with a story about Angela from work. You bet he knew it too, how much you loved his presence, he had that twinkle in his eye whenever you gave him attention, with that cheeky smile, how could you look away?

“I can’t believe you haven’t seen Alien”, Spencer sat back on the couch after hitting play on the movie.

You shrugged next to him, “it’s not that I don’t watch horror movies, I just never got around to it.”

“Well, prepare to get your mind blown”, he turned to stare at you like this was life or death.

You laughed. “God, you’re corny.”

“Yeah, yeah, you love it.”

You didn’t bother replying to him, rolling your eyes playfully, you began to dig into your food while the movie started. With your head down, you hoped he didn’t notice you still blushed like an idiot when he spoke to you like that.

It was really good, hell, it was probably a great movie. The problem was you kept getting distracted. Finished food abandoned on the coffee table, you kept glancing over at the man comfortably laid back next to you like he belonged there. You were sitting tight together, arms touching. You resisted the urge to cuddle him, you were friends for sure but you didn’t want to cross a boundary that he might not be comfortable with. Anyway, if you guys did cuddle, he would definitely feel how fast your heart was beating. Even now, with your upper arms pressed against one another and your knees occasionally knocking together, it felt like a million tiny electric zaps every time you made contact.

Spencer loved movies, he was a movie guy, and you loved that he was a movie guy. You loved the way he lit up talking about them, his eyes glued to the screen and reacting to everything that happened like it was personally happening to him. He really felt the films he liked, he was open-minded and enjoyed being immersed in them. You couldn’t help being attracted to his passion and excitement, and watching every microexpression on his face instead of the movie itself. It was alright though, because he would always answer your questions when you got confused.

“You’re so patient with me”, you grinned absentmindedly, trying to focus on Sigourney Weaver running through the spaceship. When you realised what you said, you tried to play it off, “like, as in, you never get mad at me for getting confused.” You attempted to laugh in a light, casual way, it came out sort of hollow sounding though.

Yeah… playing it real cool, you thought to yourself sarcastically. You forced yourself not to look at him but you could feel his gaze on you.

“Of course”, his voice was so soft, you almost missed it. Your will broke down immediately and you turned to him. You didn’t think you had ever seen that expression on his face, it was gentle and open, ignoring the movie for once. You felt your breath leave your lungs, like your chest was about to collapse and you were going to throw up.

“Thank you”, you murmured, not knowing what else to say. “For being so… good to me.”

What the fuck were you saying? Oh my god, oh my god, shut up-

“I can’t imagine ever not being good to you”, he mumbled back, “and I’m not that patient.”

Your heart was in your throat, your heartbeat was so loud in your ears, you couldn’t hear the yelling from the television. You slowly pressed the pause button and tossed the remote aside without looking away from him.

“What do you mean?”

“Something about you makes me so impatient”, he was whispering now and you felt yourself being drawn closer like a magnet. “Sometimes”, he swallowed thickly, “I think about you and I lose all my chill. I just want to stop what I’m doing and see you.”

Seeing him like this, cheeks slowly reddening and eyes wide and vulnerable, it felt more intimate than sex.

“S-sorry”, he stuttered out.

“No”, you rushed, your hand instinctively grabbing his forearm and he jumped like you had just shocked him. You slowly realised that while you had been trying to ignore your attraction to Spencer, he may have been doing the exact same thing. “I feel the same way”, you said breathlessly, “I think about you every single day.”

“Me too, every day”, he nodded in agreement, “it’s been hard to not think about you all the time ever since I saw you sprint down the hall in your Hello Kitty print pyjamas.” You threw your head back in laughter, his gorgeous laugh mixing with yours. “I couldn’t help falling for you, you landed in a puddle in front of me in your own kitchen. And then you ripped your pants in mine.” You were in hysterics at this point, as embarrassed as you were in those moments, it was absolutely hilarious in hindsight.

“Oh my god, I can’t believe you like me”, you caught your breath, “I had no idea.”

“I didn’t want to push anything”, he said sincerely, “I had no idea if you liked me like that, and after learning about your whole swearing off romance thing… I thought I had no chance at all.”

“Well”, you reached up and fiddled with the string of his hoodie, almost feeling the heat coming off his body, “that was before I met you.”

His smile at that moment was so bright, you swore it lit up the entire room.

“You’re amazing, Spencer”, he held your free hand in his, gently running his thumb along your knuckles, “I tried to avoid my feelings but I couldn’t do it. I like you so much it makes me sick.”

“Sick?” He laughed. You loved making him laugh.

“Yes, sick”, you giggled in reply.

Both of you were slowly inching towards each other, noses almost bumping. His eyes flicked down at your lips and then back up to your eyes. You gave the tiniest of nods, giving permission, and he immediately leaned in. And then your lips connected, it was like every romantic movie you had ever seen combined and ten times better. You could almost hear the swelling music score as his hand delicately cradled the side of your face. You felt like electricity was running through your veins and roses were blossoming inside your chest. He tasted sweet like the lemonade he just had, and you tightened the grip you had on his hoodie string. He hummed contently against your mouth, his other hand pulled you closer, until you felt engulfed in his arms, his scent, him.

So much for a retired hopeless romantic.

✩

♡ masterlist

#starsfics #smosh #smosh fanfiction #spencer agnew #spencer agnew x reader #spencer agnew fanfiction #smosh x reader #spencer smosh

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runninriot · 1 month ago

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if this is a rom-com, kill the director

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles School's Out For Summer PopUp Event/ prompt: lake and as fill for the @steddiebingo prompt: forced proximity

wc: 1.000 | rated: T | tags: Best Friends Steve&Robin, Background Robin/Vickie, (Unintentional) Meddling, Not Actually Unrequited Love, kind of Open Ending but with Implied Friends To Lovers | also on ao3

‘It's gonna be so much fun,’ she’d said. ‘We’re gonna have the best time!’

What Robin didn't say, however, was that her aunt's lake house only has two bedrooms. Which would’ve been fine had they stuck to the original plan.

But what his best friend also forgot to tell him, was that he'd be sharing a room with Eddie.

Eddie, who'd not been mentioned once when planning their little trip out of town.

It was only ever about them, until Vickie decided to tag along. Which is- great. Wonderful even. Because what could be better than spending some time crammed into a small house by a lake in the middle of nowhere, to hopefully give the girls a chance to finally stop dancing around each other and acknowledge their very obvious, mutual crush?

He wouldn’t have minded being the third wheel but apparently, Robin had other ideas. Invited Eddie to join them without including Steve in the decision.

‘Oops, haha. Thought I’d told you.’

He knows she meant well, but amongst all the glorious ideas she’s had in the past, this one is absolutely the worst.

Steve would've preferred not going over having to spend 72 hours in forced proximity with that guy. Would’ve chosen to stay home alone and mope about it rather than being stuck here with him of all people.

Eddie is... he's nice, okay?

He's kind, and funny, and it never gets boring when he's around. He's chaos personified but never annoying, can make Steve laugh even on his worst days.

Steve likes him.

A lot.

More than he dares to admit even to himself.

And that is the problem.

Because it’s one thing to pretend and fake nonchalance when they’re back home. But here, amidst nothing beautiful nature, away from the suffocating restrictions of their small-town life, it’s suddenly so much harder to keep his feelings in check.

Hard to keep his eyes from wandering. Not to let them linger on the guy lying flat on his stomach in nothing but swim shorts right next to Steve. Hair tied up in a bun, still wet from his dip in the lake, now basking in the afternoon heat.

Here, unsupervised and undistracted, abandoned by his best friend who’s currently wooing her future wife by making her a flower crown, it’s hard for Steve not to let his mind drift. Not to wonder what it would feel like to let his fingers graze over Eddie’s sun-warmed skin. To press his lips against the nape of his neck, his shoulders. To kiss away the drippy trail of lake water and sweat trickling down his spine.

And it’s impossible not to fall a little more in love when they’re sitting by the campfire, later, after the first day’s sun has set. Listening to Eddie softly strum the guitar in his lap, singing folk songs his uncle taught him while the girls talk amongst themselves, huddled together under a shared blanket. Pretending to watch the dancing flames when really, all he can focus on is the man across from him.

Eventually, Robin and Vickie say their goodnights and head inside, holding hands and giggling like stupid teenagers in love.

Steve smiles, is happy for them despite the pang of jealousy he feels when he watches them leave. Robin deserves all the love in the world but is it bad to want a bit of the same for himself?

“May I?” Eddie asks, pointing to the empty space next to him.

Steve hadn’t noticed he’d gotten up, was too lost in his thoughts.

“Yeah, sure.”

Eddie sits and for a while, they don’t talk. Steve keeps his eyes on the night sky – prettiest he’s ever seen – counting stars and clouds until Eddie finally breaks the deafening silence.

“It’s really beautiful out here,” he says quietly and Steve answers with a hum.

His eyes dart down to find Eddie already looking back at him, a soft smile on his lips that Steve wants to taste.

“Had a great day today,” he says instead of what else is on his mind, “Love spending time with you.”

“Yeah, me too,” Eddie agrees and Steve isn’t sure to which part, hopes it’s both.

The fire is slowly dying, greedy flames eating away at the few remaining pieces of wood, and although the air is still warm, Steve shivers.

“Are you cold?”

Without waiting for an answer, Eddie grabs the girls’ forgotten blanket and wraps it around both their shoulders, scoots closer and loops one arm around Steve’s middle.

“Better?” he asks and Steve can only nod, can’t speak, not with his heart beating so hard he can feel it in his throat.

If this were a rom-com, right now would be the moment they'd share their first kiss, one of many more to come.

But that’s not what happens because this isn’t a movie. It’s his life. Miserable and loveless and-

“Is, uh, this okay?” Eddie breaks through his spiralling thoughts, a slight tremble in his voice like he’s nervous, unsure, and- oh.

Of course he would be, touching Steve like that. Eddie doesn’t know how much he longs for this. How much Steve enjoys his closeness.

“Yes,” he whispers and rests his head on Eddie’s shoulder just to feel a little more of him. “I like to be held.”

By you, he keeps to himself because that would be too revealing, too much of a confession. He’s already said more than he ever allowed to let slip before – a little too honest, a little too needy.

But Eddie doesn’t seem to mind. Because he pulls Steve even closer, fingers slipping under the hem of his shirt, drawing small, circular patterns into his side. Along his ribs and down his back, exploring more of his skin with every gentle stroke, driving Steve wild with tenderness.

"Eddie?" The remaining question dies on a sigh when suddenly, finally, their lips meet in the middle.

Maybe sharing a room won't be so bad after all.

#steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #steddie fic #steddie events #steddie holiday drabbles #steddiebingo2025

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tiredmutt-1999 · 9 months ago

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If this is a rom com kill the Director

#kill the director PLEASE #my art #relativity au #Director dipper #grunkle mason #Leader Gideon #but like. when they were in college.#experiencing a weird bisexual situationship

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ao3feed-steve-eddie · 1 month ago

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by RunninRiot

‘It's gonna be so much fun,’ she’d said. ‘We’re gonna have the best time!’

What Robin didn't say, however, was that her aunt's lake house only has two bedrooms. Which would’ve been fine had they stuck to the original plan.

But what his best friend also forgot to tell him, was that he'd be sharing a room with Eddie.

Words: 997, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 18 of Small Riots

Fandoms: Stranger Things (TV 2016)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Relationships: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington

Additional Tags: background Robin Buckley/Vickie, Robin Buckley & Steve Harrington Are Best Friends, (Unintentional) Meddling, Forced Proximity, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Open Ending, Implied Friends To Lovers, Tumblr Prompt, Steddie Bingo (Stranger Things)

#steddie #stranger things #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #ao3 feed

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nionom-art · 3 months ago

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I was reading back on your ML x DR AU and I came up with some execution ideas. They turned out very long!

Zoe’s execution: The Not-So-Final Girl

The scene opens with a crew of monokumas on a film set. Zoe is playing the lead role in a rom com during a climactic confession scene on a bridge. She offers a rose to a blushing love interest monokuma, but in an unexpected twist, monokuma’s husband runs in fuming. The monokuma couple start yelling at each other, which instantly devolves into a cartoonish fight cloud. Zoe, confused, gets caught in the middle of it and beat up before being shoved over the edge of the bridge.

The camera cuts to a screen where a flying, Vesperia-inspired action hero drops in, fighting a giant monster monokuma. The camera pans up to reveal the real Zoe, with cuts and bruises, suspended from a harness in a green screen room, and the giant monokuma is all green and covered in white mocap dots. We see two crew monokumas operating the harness system, incompetently button-mashing a claw machine-looking control board. Zoe bobs and jerks around, unable to control her own movements, while giant monokuma slashes at her with his claws. He accidentally cuts the strings, and she falls to the ground.

The setting changes to a dark garage. A slasher monokuma parodying Friday the 13th walks towards her with a chainsaw and she, covered in blood, struggles to stand up. She grabs some garden shears and slices monokuma open right as he swings the saw. It catches her in the arm, but monokuma goes limp as the hole widens to reveal he’s full of squirming cockroaches. They start pouring out in impossible numbers, covering the floor and crawling up Zoe’s legs. The director yells cut and turns the studio lights back on while she’s frantically trying to swat them away, but they’re all over her.

A tanker truck busts through the side wall, but the tank is a giant can of bug spray. Exterminator monokumas hop out, fixing a fire hose to the nozzle. Zoe, engulfed in roaches, looks up to see everyone except her is now wearing a gas mask and staring at her expectantly. The exterminator monokumas point their hose directly at her and douse her with bug spray until a thick cloud fills the room. The end shot is a Zoe Lee headstone shaped like a Hollywood walk of fame star, and monokuma’s hand tosses the tattered-up rose from the opening shot onto it.

Comments: I gave this one v3 vibes with how ridiculously extra it is. The despair aspect is that Zoe is presented in the lead roles of each movie, yet her takes are ruined by things outside her control, sucking the glory out of it. I wanted to do something with the irony of her wanting to have main character energy yet getting killed off right away in chapter one hence the final girl joke. The execution enforces the idea that whatever happened in the murder might not have been entirely her fault or at least that other people’s actions led to her downfall, but she still has to suffer the consequences in the end. I wanted to reference the roach thing, and I liked one of the previous ideas that she’d get crushed like in sole crusher, but I didn’t want to randomly bring Chloe into this without a good reason. I thought bug spray could nod to her being a wasp as well as a cockroach.

Nathaniel’s execution: Deadline

Nathaniel is alone in a peaceful yet windowless art studio. There’s a giant scary-looking metal gate on one wall with thick double doors that lock together, sealing off the room. Very industrial saw trap-looking. Above it is a glowing, red digital clock reading 30:00 which beeps and starts counting down. He sits still at first, scared and suspicious of everything in the room, but nothing happens except the countdown decreasing.

After a few minutes, he stands up and paces around the room, then grabs a pad of paper and starts sketching. First he draws Luka, then rips the page out and turns it face-down on the table. He starts drawing the details of the metal door.

When the clock strikes 20:00, a buzzer loudly blares and the room flashes with red light. When it stops, Nathaniel is frozen, but starts sketching again, faster, this time imagining what might be behind the door. Maybe robotic arms that pull you into a whirlwind of spinning blades, or a flood of water that fills the room to the ceiling, or a long hallway filled with deadly booby traps or. The sketches become more nonsensical and abstract as he goes, and his lines are all shaky. When the clock hits 10:00 it blares again, and at that point he’s frantically scribbling chicken scratch, ripping holes through the paper with the pencil.

He stops and stands up again, walking around the room. He goes up to a two-tiered rolling cart filled with bottles of chemicals like paint thinner and varnish and picks one up, then picks up a dirty cup covered in dry paint and dumps out all the brushes it was holding. Setting them on the table, his sits back down and freezes for a moment, then starts scribbling hand warm-ups. The buzzer sounds for 5:00, and he starts ripping through the paper again, his hands shaking.

He opens the bottle and stares inside, swirling it around. 4:00. Sitting still. 3:00. He pours it in the cup. 2:00. 1:00. He throws it back and starts coughing, which turns into spitting up blood. In the final seconds, he becomes dizzy and collapses on the table. He’s still barely awake to see the doors slide open to reveal that they just. Lead back into the room where everyone else is.

The scene closes with monokuma dressed as a fancy waiter moving away some stuff from in front of the chemical rack, revealing that’s it’s actually a vintage-style bar cart. He winks and wheels it away while in the background, Nathaniel lies in a pool of blood on the table with the cup still in his hand.

Comments: I’m not set on the name for this one. I feel like there’s something better but idk what. I also like the concept more than my execution of it (ba dum ts). Nathaniel’s fatal flaw the first time around was his own paranoia, so I wanted to do something where he psychs himself out to the point where he’s doing this to himself. I wanted the whole thing have this dark “Oopsies! Lol!” energy to almost justify his execution and make it less unfair because he made the same mistake twice in a row. Plus, if he was drowning in guilt and almost gave up before the trial even started, he wouldn’t think escape was an option, but he wouldn’t be able to ignore his sense of self-preservation. I was going back and forth on how long the countdown should be. If it’s too long, he has time to calm down, but if it’s too short, he can’t do anything.

Sabrina’s execution: Burned at the Sweepstakes

(Building off of the same concept everyone else suggested up to this point)

Sabrina is standing in a shopping mall with a beeping collar around her neck with a digital display that starts counting down. She’s holding a long shopping list of highly specific items that looks like Santa’s naughty or nice list with how it trails behind her. Sabrina runs from store to store, grabbing items off the list, mostly fashion accessories and cosmetics. At first, she has several bags in each arm, but soon there’s a pile in front of her too high to see past.

She knows precisely where to find each item, but when she reaches the end of the list with only a little time to spare, she doesn’t recognize the specified brand of shoes at the very end. Strange, she was positive that she’s familiar with every mall brand’s catalogue. Running up and down the escalators, she scans the stores snatching the last few items. The collar beeps faster as time is running out. By chance, she spots the door to a tiny janitorial closet cracked open and thinks to peek inside. A pair of shiny red heels sit on the upper shelf.

As Sabrina sets down her stuff and reaches for them, the collar’s beeping turns into one long drone. Time ran out. Sweating, expecting it to explode, Sabrina freezes in her tracks, but instead of killing her, the collar bursts into a spray of gasoline. She sees where this is going, but holds on to the hope she can still finish the list and “win” before it’s too late. She grabs the shoes, but pulling them up trips a switch that makes the closet door swing shut and spikes fly out of the walls. They don’t hurt her badly, but there’s just barely enough room left for her.

Sabrina tries to reach for the door between the spikes when she notices wires inside the shoes and realizes they made a strange click when she grabbed them. They explode, sending sparks flying, igniting her.

In the closing scene, the closet door swings open with a puff of ashes. Her feet are still standing there. The busted collar falls to the ground with the alternating flashing display now reading, “YOU’RE” “FIRED!”.

Comments: hm I don’t like having a countdown thing twice in a row. The idea here is that successfully satisfying the orders she was given wouldn’t help her survive, it’s what got her killed in the first place. The amendments I made to earlier versions of this concept are that the collar sprays gas instead of being a total red herring and that the shoes themselves are the source of fire. I wanted to include the closet idea too. To everyone who did this general idea before me, I think it’s genius.

Lila’s execution: One in a Million Shot

A firing squad of monokumas perches on a balcony over a spacious white room, like looking into a hollowed-out movie theater from the control box. Down there, an army of Lilas stand in a perfect grid. Or rather, one Lila and several hundred lifelike robotic replicas of her. All of them have wildly different hairstyles and fashion including the real one, who is in disguise. We can’t tell which is her.

The Lilas start robotically walking in random paths around the room before reorganizing in a new formation and stopping. Unable to tell which one is real, each monokuma randomly fires a shot. The broken robots are swiftly removed. All our remaining Lilas start walking again, then reorganize into a slightly smaller grid. The camera zooms in on real Lila’s brief, twitchy side-eye as the robot next to her is shot. The pool continues getting smaller, and when they stop for the next round, the camera zooms out on real Lila’s entire face during the gunfire, letting us glimpse her hair and clothes. Following the next round, the grid becomes even tighter.

From a zoomed out camera view, we see them walk around and make their formation. The monokumas take their shots, and while the rest of the selected Lilas give off sparks and metal splinters, one of them is splattered with blood.

A party popper of confetti and streamers way too sparse for the size of that room goes off, and a childish congratulatory jingle plays over the loudspeakers. The bodies are removed just the same, although one leaves a streak behind on the white floor.

Comments: Where’s Luigi meets Squid Game meets Roblox be an npc or die meets Mii Plaza. The title I chose is supposed to be a pun on how making a living or reaching celebrity status as an online content creator takes some crazy luck. An alternate name for this execution could be Trend Forecasting. Compared to how gory some executions could be, I wanted this one to be unceremoniously quick and simple. Lila craves attention, so if she had to go she would want to do so in blazing glory. Yet she forces herself into a background role in the trial to protect herself and pays for it by being turned into an NPC. Another point I wanted to make was the despair of her death basically being up to random chance. All the previous executions I wrote had the blackened die by “fighting back” in exactly the way they were expected to. If Lila was given that opportunity, maybe she would’ve figured it out and come up with a clever plan, but her execution prevents her from doing anything at all by forcing her to stay still and quiet. The most she can do is try to pick what she thinks is an unlikely spot. I was going back and forth on whether or not I wanted to reveal which one is real because knowing ramps up the anxiety, but not knowing until she’s dead is more shocking. It could go either way.

Thanks for reading all this! I had a good time reading previous ideas for these and I like how Sabrina’s kinda became a group project lol. I hope mine inspire people to do something with them or suggest changes so we can all eventually achieve the true canon DR AU executions by converging our brain cells.

These- these are good- you guys think of the stuff I couldn’t on my own

#putting this out there so y’all’s can make some theories and. stuff #miraculous ladybug #miraculous danganronpa #ask

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child-of-icarus · 11 months ago

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[James and Reg flirting]

Sirius, sitting next to them: *singing* If this is a rom com, kill the director

James: Pads, can you not—

Sirius: If this is a rom com, kill the director, pleaseeee

#dead gay wizards #marauders #james potter #regulus black #sirius black #the black brothers #starchaser #sunseeker #jegulus

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d-criss-news · 7 months ago

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Darren Criss on Bringing Robot Love to Broadway With ‘Maybe Happy Ending’

Chances are the multi-talented Darren Criss is as cross-eyed as the rest of us are with the twists and turns his career has taken over the past 13 years. In 2009, he began in television with six years of Glee, playing the lead singer of the Warblers, and helping power a Warblers focused soundtrack album to Number 2 on the Billboard album chart. Then in 2018 he switched fromsinging to spree killing, giving a stunning, steel-plated performance as Andrew Cunanan in Ryan Murphy’s American Crime Story: The Assassination of Gianni Versace. That got him a Golden Globe and a Primetime Emmy and set people to thinking there might be a serious actor lurking inside that singer.

Before that could be settled, the singer reemerged, as a replacement in a Broadway revival of How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying, raking in $4 million during his three weeks. That was followed with an Off-Broadway revival of Little Shop of Horrors at the Westside Theater and a stint in Hedwig and the Angry Inch at the Belasco Theater.

Two years ago, the actor was back when producer Jeffrey Richards hired him for some deep-dish David Mamet drama, American Buffalo. Now Richardshas returned Criss to the Belasco, and singing, for an original Broadway musical, Maybe Happy Ending—a very original musical, in that it’s about the love life of robots in Seoul circa 2064.

You’ll not find much of that Glee guy you know and love in the character Criss plays in Maybe Happy Ending, a lonely Helperbot robot who putters aimlessly about his tiny apartment, listens to jazz and devotes all his TLC to a favorite pot plant. That changes swiftly when a female form of Helperbot, Claire (Helen J Shen), drops by to borrow his charger. Sparks fly, then conversation, and inevitably a kind of amorous connection.

Despite the nuts and bolts, what we have here is basically a rom-com, with a charming book and score by a couple of NYU classmates.

Actually, there are two books and two scores, one in English, one in Korean. Will Aronson, 43, of New Haven, composed the music, and Hue Park, 41 of South Korea wrote the lyrics. Once they did that, they put their heads together and wrote “connecting tissue”—a play in praise of love’s rejuvenating effects. Even robots at the end of their warranty are susceptible.

Evidently, Hue won the toss because the Korean version premiered first—in Seoul, where the story is set—and proved to be such a success that stateside productions were put together. The English edition made its first U.S. appearance two years ago at Atlanta’s Alliance Theater, where The New York Times’ Jesse Green deemed it “Broadway-ready.” Thus, we now have a live-action robot show going strong on West 44th.

The terror of doing this kind of production, Criss confesses, is that actors are afraid they’ll look like cartoons of their character, taking big, blocky robot steps around the stage. “The show has no listed choreographer,” he tells Observer. But he feels he has that situation well in hand. He and director Michael Arden “have taken a particular interest in making sure the physicality is distinct,” he says. “And I’d be remiss not to mention a teacher at Juilliard, Moni Yakim, who had some Zoom discussion with us about this.

“It’s kind of a cocktail of those three things: Moni’s suggestions, Michael’s pursuit of perfection and my own interest in physical theater. It’s a skill set that I’ve never been able to utilize—at least to this level. When I was in college, I took a semester off so that I could study physical theater at the Accademia dell’Arte, the performing arts school in Arezzo, Italy.”

A cast of four inhabit the show: Dez Duron, Marcus Choi, Criss, and Shen. You may detect a little kinetic energy between Criss and Shen. That’s because they both attended the University of Michigan—albeit, not at the same time. “She graduated about two seconds ago, and I may have graduated a little longer ago than that,” concedes Criss.

“She graduated two years ago, and 10 years ago my name was up on the marquee at the Belasco Theater. And to be able to come back to the Belasco—but this time to share that billing with a fellow Michigan grad—is a very special moment for me. I’m now the upper-class man to the freshman of Helen J Shen. This is her Broadway debut. It’s a big moment for her, and getting to see her through that on stage—to call that a job is really a special thing for me.”

The enthusiasm Criss brings to the stage is practically palpable—and he still remembers where it came from: encountering Robin Williams at an impressionably early age in the 1992 animated Disney flick, Aladdin, in which his outrageous Genie-jiving was almost heart-stoppingly hilarious.

“I was probably six or seven—and I noticed how this audience connected with each other and with this Genie on the screen. I was very taken with that idea, and I wanted to give people what this Genie was giving them. Then, I found out the voice of that Genie was Robin Williams, who was such a prominent figure out in San Francisco, where I grew up. That made it an accessible concept: ’Oh, Mr. Williams is an actor. I’d like to be an actor, too.’ So I hopped right on it.”

#darren criss #observer #helen j shen #michael arden #robin williams #uofmichigan #maybe happy ending #maybe happy ending bway #press #nov 2024

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whoops-im-obsessed · 11 months ago

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Everything I remember from mischief movie night last night!!

Last night (13/8/24) was 'In-Tents Love' a rom-com set in a summer camp for troubled youths featuring a Parisian anime scene. Because.. of course.

Henry Lewis Oscar!! Bro was having so much fun with this, he was just grinning at his castmates the whole time

Cast was Shields, Josh, Niall, Bryony, Susan and Ellie!

Started with someone suggesting Hull as a location which got a round of applause and Henry Lewis to say 'we never should have written that fucking line'

Whole cast were very scared by the anime suggestion

The movie started with a song which started with Niall singing 'IM TROUBLED' and everyone sung about what they'd done to end up here and that there's gonna be troubleeee for me! And troubleeee for you!

Shout out to the late comers in the front row who got pointed at and told there would be trouble for them

Niall (Bobby) hugs things so hard they die

Bryony (Mary Sue) sets stuff on fire and lives alone in a tent

Josh (Tommy) I actually don't remember

Susan (Sue?? Was referred mostly to as mystery girl) seemed to be there for no reason

And Ellie (token Penelope) stole 1000 bees

Shields (Richard) was in charge of the camp

After the song Bobby and Tommy had a conversation and it was implied that they would be the love interests until it was revealed that Bobby killed Tommy's dog by hugging it too hard, still were potential love interests until Bobby said 'how's dad?' And Oscar had to call a pause and yell 'THEYRE BROTHERS'

The other characters are getting to know each other by the river, Mary Sue sets a fire and Mystery girl (who maybe had a name by now idk) doesn't know what it is and kept touching it (fire admirably played by Niall and the blue cloth)

Its revealed that Penelope has a crush on Tommy! The others tell her she needs to go for it. She decides she's gonna give him a dead bee.

It is revealed in this scene that mystery girl is here for a reason and its actually because she has loads of underage sex

Cue Josh joined quickly by Shields and Niall chanting 'sex~' while doing a camp little dance

Cut to a directors (Josh) interview where he was asked why he decided to have 3 grown men chanting sex in the back of this scene and he said he went to an all boys boarding school and that's just what they did there. He was promptly arrested.

The girls sing a song about the birds and the bees which turned into a sing along chorus where we all had to go 'what about beeees? What about beeees? What about bees? And Birds!'

Bobby and Tommy are about to have a breakthrough and say they love eachother when Penelope goes along and interrupts the brotherly bonding by giving Tommy a dead bee on a piece of string as a ring. He is disgusted and then into it and they go on a date.

Bobby is heartbroken bc he has a crush on Penelope and Richard gives him some advice - you miss all the shots you don't take. During this they were playing basketball and Richard was very good and didn't let anyone else have a turn. When Bobby did have a turn he missed.

It turns out Richard read Bobby's diary to learn about his crush and the Parisian anime scene is him trying to find it - cue Shields doing dramatic moves and a strong French accent trying to find 'La Diary!!!' When he found it, it granted him 'POWER'

The bee was apparently 'Einstein's bee' and when asked to explain, the director said he sneezed on the keyboard and kept it in, he was then asked where the bodies were.

The next scene started with Tommy doing an odd ballet dance which Oscar promptly paused

Tommy and Penelope were on their date on a boat, during the set up for this scene Bryony whacked Ellie in the head with a walking stick (oops)

Penelope only knows how to row in circles

The two talk and Penelope is too eager, telling Tommy she loves him, he doesn't like this and jumps off the boat and swims away. Penelope gets stuck going in circles.

Cut to Bobby and Mary Sue having a nice chat, they decide to be friends and sing a song about how amazing it is to be friends! This is interrupted by Tommy who asks Mary Sue on a date and Bobby is broken hearted a second time

Neither Josh nor Susan remembered Mary Sue's name and tried several ways to get around it, interrupted by Oscar, until they ended up saying she had 'Marie energy'

Mary Sue and Tommy go on a fishing date where Mary Sue throws rocks into the river to kill the fish. Tommy says how much he likes her and She doesn't like it and runs away.

Penelope is distraught and goes to Richard for advice, she's upset that everyone is pairing off and she doesn't have anyone. There's an interlude where Richard is met by Lord Gerald who runs all of the summer camps and wanted to check up on him. It seems there may be something there until the police arrive questioning Richard's intentions - Oscar interrupts this so it doesn't descend into madness and the scene continues with Gerald repeating Richard's name several times, as up until this point he didn't have one.

When Gerald leaves, Penelope is upset because Richard was supposed to be giving her advice! He gives her the same advice as he gave Bobby and its a sweet scene until she eats the bee and spits it back out. She takes a shot with the basketball and also misses.

The girls meet up by the river again and agree that boys are bad. The mystery girl introduces the concept of lesbianism and Mary Sue has a bit of a realisation - this looks like it might turn into another song until Bobby interrupts to say Tommy is hanging off the balcony

Tommy is upset and claims the balcony is his safe space - everyone agrees this is not a very safe space actually.

They try to calm him down and Bobby eventually tells Tommy he loves him, they get Tommy down and they have a hug, which doesn't kill anything this time.

Its revealed that Richard has actually been reading everyone's diaries and was trying to get them all to have sex the whole time. He learns about the concept of familial love and decides to turn himself in

The kids decide they aren't gonna go back to their horrible home lives and that they're just gonna stay at camp actually, they learn they can choose their own family and its very sweet

It ends with a song about the birds and the bees again, which goes 'the birds and the bees, the bees and the bees! What ever you please at summer camp!'

#mischief theatre #mischief comedy #mischief movie night #mmni #mmn #the other palace #the other palace theatre #henry lewis #henry shields #ellie morris #bryony corrigan #josh elliot #susan harrison #niall ransome #goes wrong show

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miss0atae · 6 months ago

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Random Thoughts about The Heart Killers (EP 1 – 6) : An interesting Rom-Com with morally grey characters.

The long awaited post I've wanted to make, but always failed to do properly. Since we are not getting an episode today (which is a damn crime because the wait is killing me!), I've decided to feed my poor soul with some writing about the series. I won't add anything that haven't already been said on here, so I won't feel sad if you don't pay attention to this post. It's just me screaming in the void of internet to try thinking about something else. I knew I would like this series (I like the actors, the directors, the plot… everything has been set according to my own taste), but I try to reason with me. You shouldn't put too many expectations on a series, otherwise you're at a risk of being disappointed. I also give better advice that I never really follow, so yes I had expectations and until now they have been fulfilled. I would be lying if I didn't say that at one point or another I was really annoyed by the characters' actions. I tend to forget that the series is 12 episodes and I'm looking forward to seeing the sweet scenes between the main couples (real ones with no lying). I was promised a rom-com, so don't be mad at me for being a little fool here. I'm a bit impatient as you can see. However, I know that I shouldn't react in the heat of the moment so I waited until now to write something about The Heart Killers.

Usually, in a rom-com you get characters that are archetypes usually found in this type of story. In the Heart Killers, most of the characters are neither good neither totally evil (except maybe Mother, but she may also have a good side, who knows). All characters have their strengths and weaknesses and they may appear on different sides, but they all have a strong, justifiable reason for doing what they are doing. I've making this grid for a while now. I may have forgotten some information, but it's just my own perception of the series so far. Things may change in the coming episodes.

So why was I annoyed by the characters at one point or another? I guess one part of the reason is that I forgot the structure of a rom-com because of the unique setting the screenwriters and the director put our main characters in. Any rom-com follows a certain structure in three times I would say.

• The first part is the presentation of the setting, the characters and their unfulfilled needs.

• The second part is when you have the meet-cute (or not so cute) between the characters. It is followed by the honeymoon stage until obstacles arise at the midpoint and the relationship is in jeopardy (that's where we are right now in the story). Usually, it's when the couple break up or start to have doubts.

• The third and final part is the moment of realization where the characters can view themselves outside the relationship and decide what are their new desire and goals. It leads everyone to the final of the story that usually ends on a happy note or at least give the viewers some hope for the characters if they don't end up together (my personal choice would be a happy ending for everyone, but I like to be surprised).

We've seen the first part already and have moved on the second part. I believe in the Heart Killers the break-up part could be different. Will the characters really break-up now that they think they have understood the needs of the others?! I don't think so. I believe they are all going to pretend to be together to try to outmatch the other ones and to learn the truth. They believe they are in opposite sides, but the truth is their main enemy who is working against their desire/happy ending remains Mother and to a lesser extent Keen (until Mother works against him and he may become an ally to the main leads). We could probably add the Captain too.

So, even knowing that, the question remains: why was I annoyed by the characters, despite loving everything else?! It's because I viewed them through my own sets of value while forgetting who they are and the setting of the series. To be fair, I'm used to rom-com characters who usually are not morally wrong. Here, in this story, none of them is really right or wrong. After all, they are on different standpoints and the perspectives they can reach are not the same. They represent different sides with different views (sorry I'm rambling here). I would say, Style may be the only characters who didn't have a criminal past and his worst fault is that he didn't flirt (at first) with Fadel for love, but for greed to possess Kant's car. The other characters, Kant, Bison and Fadel, all are or were a criminal at one point. Does it mean that criminals can't fall in love because what they are doing is morally wrong? The story doesn't agree with this point, as all of them were dragged to this because of something external. Kant needed money to take care of his brothers and Fadel and Bison were forced into this line of work by their “guardian” Mother who pretends to make them go after other “criminals” because the justice system isn't doing the right wrong. In some way, she isn't wrong, as the only “justice” figure we meet in the story is Captain Christ. He isn't a nice guy too as he is threatening Kant to force him to do his work in exchange for freedom from his past.

The idea of writing morally grey characters is interesting as it maintain the suspense, both in the relationship between the main leads, but also in the core structure of the story. The characters had needs at the beginning of the story, but their desire slowly changed by interacting with their lovers and other characters. It is also good for viewers as they have the opportunity to prefer one side over the other one. I changed my mind a lot during those six episodes. I was feeling terribly sorry for Bison when I saw Kant's playing with his heart, but in the last two episodes, I understood how hard it must be for him to keep pretending while also falling in love, despite knowing the truth. I was amused by Style's aggressive flirting with Fadel, but also felt annoyed on behalf of Fadel as I noticed how his "secret life" was putting a toll on his mental health. Choosing to have morally grey characters work better with the setting of the story. Otherwise, who would root for hitmen to fall in love? The fact we care so much about the actions of the main characters and what impact it will have on their romantic relationship, confuse us and make us anticipate the next move they may make. It also allows the true villains of the story to actively continue working against our main leads' happiness. The ones who really gain from the new feud between the main couples are the Captain and Mother. They may believe they are in their rights, but they use the main characters as chest pieces, without regard for the toll it can have on their well-being.

Mother is using the maternal figure she has set to control Fadel and Bison's action. She is pretending to care about them. She willfully taught them how to be hitmen to supposedly kill other criminals. The reason may appears good, but the actions are not valid. You can't Pay Evil unto Evil. She pushed our characters in this place by using the death of their parents as an example of failed justice. She knows much buttons to push to keep them in the place she wants them to be. Mother pretends to understand that they are tired of being hitmen and that this job will be the last one, but will it really be the last one? She also purposely and actively works against their happiness, by keeping them lonely. Bison and Fadel may think they are in controls, but the viewers can see, they don't really have a say in their actions or life. They never settled before and they don't really know how to. They find a different way to cope with this, but deep down they are still prisoners of what Mother has made of their life. As for Kant, he is also being controlled by the Captain who knows about his desire to protect and care about his younger brother. He uses his criminal past to make him an informant. Unlike Mother who pretends to act as a true mother to the brothers, he doesn't lie about his real view of Kant. However, just like her, he knows much buttons to push to keep Kant working for him.

As for me now, I can’t wait for Bison, Kant, Fadel and Style to overcome the lying part and the feeling of betrayal they will have regarding their relationship, so they can all be on the same side and fight against their real enemies.

#bl series #bl drama #thai series #thai bl #my thoughts #random thoughts #the heart killers #the heart killers the series #episode 1 to 6 #It took a while to write this post but I'm happy now #thanks again to all the gif creators you made this post even better with your beautiful creations #could be a perfectible post but I did my best #A bit sad we didn't get an episode today but I tried to comfort me with this post #fadelstyle #kantbison

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tomhardystories · 4 months ago

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Part 18

Tom had always considered himself a patient man. He worked long hours, dealt with demanding directors, and navigated the unpredictable chaos of set life with ease. He could memorize pages of dialogue overnight, perform grueling action sequences on little to no sleep, and smile through red carpets even when his suit was too tight and the cameras were too close.

But nothing - nothing - tested his patience quite like living with Jules.

Jules, who treated life like a never-ending rom-com where she was both the leading lady and the disaster-prone sidekick. Jules, who could trip over thin air and somehow make it look endearing. Jules, whose idea of "handling things" usually meant making them infinitely worse before, against all odds, pulling off a last-minute save.

And yet, despite all the professional training that had prepared Tom for high-pressure situations, nothing could prepare him for coming home after a fifteen-hour day on set, starving, only to find her sprawled on the couch with a half-empty takeout container.

"Hey" he said, kicking off his boots. "What’s for dinner?"

"Thai." She didn’t even look up from the TV.

He perked up. "Oh, nice. Did you order me something?"

That was when she gave him the look. The slow, deliberate side-eye that sent a chill down his spine.

"No."

"…No?"

"You said you didn’t want anything. Remember?"

Tom blinked. "That was four hours ago. I’m hungry now."

She gestured toward the coffee table, where an empty container sat mocking him. "You can have the leftovers. If you’re lucky, there’s still a spring roll."

There wasn’t.

Next morning, she texted him while he was on set, filming an emotional monologue that was supposed to convey deep existential grief.

Jules: FYI, just ordered Thai again. Thinking of you while I eat your pad see ew.

Tom groaned so loudly that the director asked if he needed a break. That night, when he got home, there was a fortune cookie on the counter with a sticky note attached:

"Fortune: You’ll forgive me eventually. Maybe."

Of course he had. Because that was the thing about Jules - just when he was ready to lose his mind, she’d do something to remind him why he loved her.

Like the time they were at a fancy restaurant, and she frowned at the menu.

"What’s a… jacket potato?" she asked, puzzled.

Tom smirked. "It’s a baked potato. You know, with the skin still on."

Jules wrinkled her nose. "Why do they call it a jacket potato? Potatoes don’t wear clothes."

"Maybe it’s dressed up for dinner."

She groaned. "English is so stupid sometimes."

Later, when the waiter returned, she confidently placed her order.

"I’ll have the potato with a coat, please."

Tom nearly choked on his water.

Jules, for all her chaotic charm, also had an unwavering commitment to making his life difficult. She hated his music. Thought his playlists were too loud, too aggressive, too obnoxiously "actor trying to be cool." He came home one night to find smooth jazz playing softly in the background.

"Oh, come on" Jules teased as he groaned. "A little culture won’t kill you, babe"

So, naturally, the next time she had her friends over, setting the perfect cozy playlist, Tom snuck into her phone’s Bluetooth settings. And just as she was in the middle of pouring wine, ear-splitting rock music exploded through the speakers.

She spun around to find him leaning against the doorway, arms crossed. Smirking.

"A little culture won’t kill you, babe."

And then, there was the Christmas tree...

Jules had insisted they get a real one. She was feeling festive, she said. It would be romantic, she said. Tom, against his better judgment, agreed.

Two hours later, they were dragging a ridiculously oversized pine tree up the stairs of their apartment building, needles scattering everywhere, both of them muttering under their breaths.

"This was a terrible idea" Tom grumbled.

Jules, adjusting her grip on the trunk, huffed. "It’s festive."

"It’s heavy."

"It’s a tree, Tom."

Once it was up and decorated, he sat back, admiring their hard work. Five minutes later, the tree tipped over, taking half the ornaments with it.

"Fucking brilliant" he muttered.

Jules glared at him. "You didn’t screw the base in tight enough."

"I didn’t screw the base in? You told me to stop because you 'had it under control'!"

One lazy Sunday, they decided to grab some fish and chips. Jules had been scrolling through her phone while Tom placed the order, but when the food arrived, she stared at the tray in confusion.

"Where are the chips?" she asked, frowning at the pile of fries.

Tom stared at her like she’d just sprouted another head. "They’re right there" he said, pointing to the fries.

"Those are fries" she replied flatly.

"Fries are chips" Tom said, exasperated.

"No, fries are fries. Chips are chips. You know, like the ones that come in a bag."

Tom sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You mean crisps."

"No, I mean chips..."

They stared at each other for a long moment before Tom muttered "This relationship is a bloody minefield."

Jules was baking one afternoon, a rare occurrence that Tom always enjoyed - mostly because it gave him an excuse to steal cookie dough straight from the bowl.

"Stop eating them raw!" Jules scolded, smacking his hand away.

"Raw? It’s not raw, it’s dough" Tom argued, grinning. "It’s the best part!"

"My grandma always said that if you ate raw dough, your stomach would hurt." Jules muttered, pulling the tray out of the oven.

As the warm cookies cooled on the counter, Tom picked one up, examining it thoughtfully. "You know, these are more like biscuits than cookies."

Jules shot him a glare. "Don’t start."

"They are!" Tom insisted, taking a bite. "Proper biscuits. Crunchy, not like that soft shite Americans call cookies."

"Tom" Jules said, her voice dangerously low "if you don’t shut up and eat your cookies, I’m going to shove the next tray straight down your throat."

"Touchy" Tom muttered, but he stuffed another cookie into his mouth before she could grab the rolling pin.

Jules loved watching horror movies, but she always ended up panicking afterward. Nothing tested Tom's patience more than the calls from Jules, convinced once again that she had seen or heard something strange.

It had all started with Miranda’s bright idea to watch a horror movie. And it wasn’t just any movie. It was one of those atmospheric slow-burn horrors that burrowed into your brain and sat there, making everything in your apartment seem just a little off.

By the time Miranda left, Jules was on edge, glaring at the dark corners as if something might crawl out of them. Tom was in London, as usual, working on some movie, and the empty apartment felt too quiet.

She locked the door. Then double-locked it. Then checked all the windows - twice.

Still, she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was watching her.

When the lights in the kitchen flickered for half a second, Jules froze. "Nope" she muttered to herself, grabbing her phone and speed-dialing Tom.

Tom picked up on the third ring, his voice groggy. "Babe, it’s.." There was a pause as he presumably checked the time. "...three in the bloody morning."

"Do you believe in ghosts?" Jules blurted.

Tom sighed heavily. "What did you and Miranda watch this time?"

"That’s not the point" she snapped, pacing the living room. "The lights just flickered, and I swear I heard something in the hallway. What if it’s a ghost?"

"It’s not a ghost" Tom said flatly.

"You don’t know that"Jules countered, glancing nervously at the shadows stretching across the floor. "You’re not here. What if someone died in this building? I mean, it’s New York. Statistically, someone definitely died here."

"Statistically, you’ve also probably eaten a spider in your sleep, but you don’t lose your mind over that" Tom replied dryly.

"Not helpful, Tom."

For the next hour, she kept Tom on the phone as she conducted a full paranormal investigation. She opened every closet, checked under the bed, and even made him listen to a strange creaking noise coming from the kitchen.

"Sounds like the fridge" he said.

"It’s not the fridge. It’s definitely ghost footsteps."

Eventually, she settled on the couch with a cup of tea, knees pulled up to her chest. "What if it’s a poltergeist?" she asked quietly.

Tom sighed. "It’s not a poltergeist."

"What if it is?" she pressed.

"Then it’s probably annoyed you’re hogging the couch" he replied, barely stifling a yawn.

She groaned, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You’re the worst."

"And you’re a bloody delight" he shot back. "Now, can we agree you’re safe and let me go back to sleep? Some of us have to work tomorrow."

"Fine" Jules muttered, though she was far from convinced.

The next few weeks were a series of increasingly questionable supernatural encounters.

It started with the closet, which Jules had always hated. Something about it just felt wrong. One evening, in an ambitious burst of cleaning, she yanked it open - and was immediately hit by an icy draft. She slammed the door shut and grabbed her phone.

"The guest closet is haunted" she announced when Tom answered.

There was a pause. "What now?"

"It’s cold. And weird. And haunted."

"Or.." Tom said patiently "it’s just a closet. Closets tend to be colder. That’s not ghosts, that’s physics."

"Physics can’t explain the vibes, Tom."

He sighed. "So what do you want to do? Burn the place down? Perform an exorcism?"

"I’m serious!"

"Alright, alright. Here’s what you do: close the door, sprinkle some salt, and tell Casper to piss off."

Then came the basement.

Jules rarely went down there - it was dark, damp, and deeply unsettling. But when she was asked to check the water heater, she had no choice. Armed with a flashlight, she ventured down the creaky stairs. Every noise made her jump, and when a pipe clanked unexpectedly, she bolted back upstairs, locking the door behind her.

Later that night, Tom called.

"How’s my favorite ghost hunter?" he teased.

Jules scowled at her phone. "There’s something down there."

"In the basement?"

"Yes. It’s… it’s alive."

Tom snorted. "It’s not alive, Jules. Basements are just creepy. It’s, like, their thing."

"You didn’t hear the noises!" she argued.

"Do you want me to fly back and check under the water heater for monsters?"

"Yes" she said without hesitation.

Things escalated when their Alexa randomly blurted out:

"I’m sorry, I didn’t catch that."

She froze. She hadn’t said anything.

"Alexa, stop" she said cautiously.

The device went silent, and she tried to brush it off. But then it happened again - this time, Alexa said "I’m always here to help."

She unplugged the device and called Tom.

"Our Alexa is possessed."

"It’s not possessed, Jules. It probably picked up background noise."

"There wasn’t any background noise!"

Tom groaned. "I’ll check it when I get home."

When he returned, he plugged it back in. Nothing happened.

"See?" he smirked. "Not haunted."

"That’s what it wants you to think."

The final straw came one stormy night. Tom had flown back from London, and the two of them had spent the evening unwinding - takeout and an episode of some crime documentary Jules had been obsessing over.

By the time they went to bed, the city had quieted down, but the apartment still felt off. Jules couldn’t put her finger on it, but something about the shadows cast by the streetlights outside made her uneasy.

She woke up suddenly in the middle of the night. At first, she wasn’t sure why. The room was dark, save for the faint glow of the city spilling in through the blinds. She listened intently, her heart racing as she became aware of a soft, rhythmic creaking sound coming from somewhere in the apartment.

Her stomach twisted.

"Tom" she whispered, nudging him.

He groaned, pulling the blanket over his head. "W-H-A-T?"

"There’s… something out there" she whispered, her voice trembling.

"Out where?" he mumbled, still half-asleep.

"In the living room" she said, her hands clutching the edge of the blanket. "I heard it. Like footsteps."

Tom sighed, rolling onto his back. "It’s probably the wind."

"It’s not the wind" Jules insisted, her voice rising slightly. "It’s in the apartment."

At that, Tom opened his eyes, blinking up at the ceiling. "Alright" he said, his voice groggy but laced with mild irritation. "Let’s think about this rationally. Did you lock the door?"

"Yes!" she hissed.

"Windows?"

"Of course!"

Tom sat up, rubbing his face. "Then it’s not someone breaking in."

"That’s not the point!" Jules whispered sharply. "What if it’s a ghost?"

Tom froze for a second, then turned to her, his eyebrows raised. "You woke me up because you think there’s a ghost in the living room?" He sighed, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "Fine. Let’s go have a look."

Armed with nothing but his phone flashlight, Tom led the way into the living room, Jules trailing behind him like a reluctant soldier. The apartment was eerily quiet, save for the occasional groan of the building settling.

Tom shone the light across the room, illuminating the couch, the coffee table, and....

Thud.

Both of them froze as the sound echoed from the kitchen.

"See?" Jules hissed, grabbing his arm. "I told you!"

Tom held up a hand, signaling for her to stay put. She immediately ignored him, sticking close as he crept toward the kitchen.

Another creak. Then a faint clatter.

Jules’s grip on his arm tightened. "Tom... "

"Relax" he whispered, though his tone was less confident now.

He flicked the flashlight toward the counter, and for a split second, both of them jumped as a shadow darted across the floor.

"Jesus Christ!" Tom shouted, stumbling back.

Jules screamed like a little girl, clutching his arm so hard he thought she might cut off his circulation.

The shadow moved again, and Tom finally managed to get a good look at it.

A pause.

Then he sighed, his shoulders relaxing. "It’s a fucking cat."

Jules blinked. "What cat?"

As if on cue, a sleek black cat jumped onto the counter, staring at them with wide, unbothered eyes.

Jules stared at the animal, her fear morphing into confusion. "How the hell did it get in here?"

Tom shook his head, rubbing his temple. "Window, probably. You sure you locked them?"

"I.. I think so?"

The cat meowed loudly.

"Well, there’s your ghost" Tom said, smirking.

Jules glared at him. "You think this is funny?"

"A little, yeah" he admitted, scooping up the cat.

They spent the next twenty minutes figuring out what to do with their unexpected guest. Eventually, Tom convinced Jules to let the cat stay the night, promising to take it to the vet in the morning to check for a microchip.

That was the thing about them. They drove each other insane, but it was never serious. The arguments weren’t real fights; they were just proof of how deeply they existed in each other’s lives.

Like the night Jules struggled to park the car, and he couldn’t resist pointing out that the space was big enough.

"You’re walking home" she had snapped, throwing the car into park.

"Fine by me" he shot back. "Maybe my Uber driver will know how to park."

He loved her, though. In all her chaotic, stubborn, Jules-ness. And despite all her complaints, she loved him too.

That’s why, after one particularly long night on set, he came home to find a familiar sight: Jules on the couch, a cup of tea in hand, and a takeout bag on the coffee table.

He raised an eyebrow. "What’s this?"

Jules took a sip. "Food."

His skepticism deepened. "For you?"

"For us" she corrected. "I even got extra spring rolls."

Tom sat down beside her, stealing a bite of her noodles before she could protest.