#how this entire film runs purely on hope

[djokeery]

just got home from watching tasm 2 in a theater for the first time in my life and everything is hitting me in layers

[wttcsms]

turn on the flash and hit record ; simon “ghost” riley.

pairing simon “ghost” riley x f!reader word count 1.5k synopsis simon misses you on one of his missions. good thing he has a collection of movies the two of you filmed to keep him company. content contains male masturbation, possessive!ghost, obsessed!ghost, filmed sex, vaginal fingering, brief gunplay (towards the end), he whimpers in this fic btw, slight size kink/size difference

Everything about you seems to have been made specifically for him, from the way your eyes seem to always catch his to how easily he can manhandle you, flipping you into different positions as he very well pleases.

You indulge with his every whim, eager to follow his commands and so when he asks you love, can I record you just this once? you agree with little to no hesitation. After all, it’s Simon, your Simon — you know he’s possessive almost to a fault, and the man rarely shows his face unless he truly trusts the person he’s baring himself to. There’s no chance someone else will be able to get their hands on the footage.

His missions last too long, and the weeks he spends separated from you are nothing short of pure agony. Before you, he didn’t feel the constant need for release, but after you? He craves it. You only realize you’re starving after having a taste of what you’ve been deprived of for so long.

Which is how he finds himself here, tucked safely away in the darkness of a room in a safehouse that’s seen better days, the front of his military-issued pants and briefs pulled down just enough to free his cock.

The tip is flushed red, already leaking with pre, and he spits into the palm of his hand before wrapping it around his length, practically hissing at the contact. Propped up on the nightstand and located in his direct line of sight is his private phone containing only your number and an album full of photos and videos of you in different positions and various states of undress.

Recording you just once turns into a second time which leads to him recording the two of you going at it for a third time until eventually, he’s built up quite the collection. The video playing on his phone is one of his favorites; it’s one of the first he’s ever filmed, proven by the shyness still evident on your face and body as you blush when the camera lands on you.

You’re lying on the bed he shares with you, completely bare and entirely vulnerable. Scattered across your skin are various lovebites, all varying in depth depending on whether he wanted to give you just a playful nip or true mark to remember him by when he’s gone.

You look so pretty right now, love. Let’s hope the camera can catch that beauty, huh?

He can hear the familiar sound of his chuckle coming from the video; you’re the only person left in this world to ever see him with such a playful demeanor, but his laugh might be the last thing on your mind. He’s certainly not thinking too hard when the camera angles downward to showcase your dripping cunt.

Simon takes a sharp inhale as he watches the way your folds are practically glistening with your slick arousal.

Wonder if your pussy’s so wet, I’ll be able to hear it in the video. What do you think, darling?

He tightens his grip on his cock as he watches himself enter three fingers, your tiny hole struggling to adjust to the abrupt intrusion. The shlick sound that accompanies every thrust is picked up by his phone camera, and Simon groans as the room he’s currently in gets enveloped in the sounds of him playing with your wet pussy.

“Fuck,” he hisses out, watching the precum bead from the tip of his cock, some of it slowly dribbling down, running along the veins on his dick. The extra lubrication makes his movements smoother, and soon, there’s a subtle clicking sound as he tries to stroke his dick in tandem with the thrusts he’s doing on the screen.

“Simon!” Your sweet voice moans out his name in the recording. He’s watched this video so many times already; he knows that right about now, you’re going to start lifting your pretty hips in an attempt to get his fingers to penetrate you even deeper. He remembers the night he filmed this video; he’s going to curl his fingers right up against that special spot of yours that’ll have you cumming all over his hand.

He struggles to keep his lidded eyes from closing all the way, desperate to watch your tiny hole fluttering around his fingers, squeezing him so tight. In turn, the grip on his dick only tightens as he watches you writhe on top of the sheets, slender fingers curling against the bedsheets as you scream out his name. The camera catches the way you cream all over his fingers, effectively coating his skin in it all the way down to his knuckles. It’s practically dripping all the way to his wrist.

The sight has him practically drooling, his strokes now even rougher. He imagines his rough, calloused hands are your smaller, soft ones. The girth of his dick makes you unable to wrap your whole entire hand, the tips of your fingers unable to touch due to his massive width. He tosses his head back, bucking into his hand as the audio from your little film still plays in the background.

Such a good girl for me. Always so needy, aren’t you?

He doesn’t need to see the video to know you’re nodding in reply. He watches through hazy vision as the him in the video takes his thumb and traces your bottom lip. Without him even needing to ask, you part those pretty lips of yours and take his thumb in your mouth, sucking.

Fuck, what he would do to have you here by his side right now.

He’ll have to make do with these videos, though. It’s not like these little films aren’t enough to bring him to release. The idea of his sweet love being his own personal pornstar does something to him, and he shuts his eyes, still working his cock as other memories of passionate nights beforehand flood his mind.

There was that one night where the two of you played one of the videos of him fucking you to the point where tears were brimming in your eyes due to overstimulation. He made a vow that for every time you came in that video, he would make you cum even harder. (He had done well in keeping that promise.) He thinks of the way your flesh feels underneath his fingers, and he relishes in the memory of how it feels to squeeze your thighs as he spreads you apart so he can savor the taste of you on his tongue. He could eat your little pussy out for hours, and after this mission, he makes a promise to do so.

He’s nearing the end of the video; he knows so because his favorite line is about to come up and at the perfect time, too.

Simon, I-I want your cum. Please come for me, please?

He doesn’t need to look at his screen to know you’re pouting up at him, knowing just the right thing to have him groaning. His breaths are coming in short pants, and your sweet, dulcet tone makes him want to come right then and there.

Please, Simon.  

Your little pleas for him to reach the height of pleasure is music to his ears. He’s practically whimpering now, forcing himself to stroke himself even more rapidly despite the fact that the stimulation on his already sensitive cock is blending pain into his pleasure.

“Gonna do it for you, love.” He weakly moans out in this empty room. He can feel himself about to fall off the edge, his release so close that it’s just about palpable. With a low groan of your name mixed with a string of curses, he finds himself ejaculating all over his hand. The amount of cum is so much that it’s not enough for it to just coat the entire length of his cock and fingers — no, there are strings of white splattered on his abdomen, effectively staining his uniform.

He’s panting, the video now over, but before he can shut off the phone, a text notification appears.

My Love [One Video Attachment]

He clicks on it, curious as to what you could possibly be sending him.

It’s a new video, one you must have just now filmed. You’ve got one of his guns, the magazine lying on the nightstand. He knows it’s unloaded and basically a toy at that point, but he doesn’t understand what’s going on until he watches you strip yourself, leaving your beautiful figure on display. He can see you dripping for him already, and he watches with bated breaths as you take the barrel of his handgun and tease your soaking entrance with it.

I need you so badly, Simon. When will you come back home?

His cock is already hardening again, and he palms himself, fumbling with his phone to call you.

Everything about you is perfect to him.

[httplilyyy]

𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐈𝐄 | 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐀 𝐂𝐀𝐑𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐑

pairing: tara carpenter x reader

summary: everything must come to an end

warnings: descriptions of violence, murder, gore, blood (lots of it), multiple character deaths, knives, guns, swearing, scream vi spoilers, bad writing

word count: 4.5k

a/n: the final part for ‘new york, new rules’! I hope you’ve liked this little series as much as I have enjoyed writing it :)

scream masterlist | prev. part | epilogue

007. XIII - crazy lixx 

‘time to die!’

Standing with your feet rooted to the floor, you watched as Sidney made herself known to everyone in the room. 

“I had a feeling you could use my help.” Sidney said, walking over to you, ignoring everyone else. 

“You can’t be here-”

“You just won’t die, will you!?” Jill yelled, cutting you off.

“I could say the same about you.” Sidney rebutted, turning to the younger woman. 

“Well, shit.” Bailey chuckled looking between you and Sidney. “Look who decided to show up.”

“Look,” Sidney sighed, clearly tired after doing this multiple times before, “I don’t know who the fuck you are and nor do I care, so why dont you just leave us be.”

“Oh, you know I can't do that.” Bailey tutted, shaking his head.

“You’ll slip.” Sidney shrugged, looking back at Jill. “They always do.”

“You just got lucky.” Jill snapped and at the same time Ethan lurched forward, his knife stabbing Sam just above her collar bone.

Tara took a hold on Sam's hand, pulling her sister away from Ethan. The boy held a large smile on his face as he followed after the two.

“Now, it wasn’t until I saw the photograph of what you’d done to him that I knew you had to fucking die!” Bailey shouted out from the top of his lungs, watching as Ethan and Quinn surrounded Tara and Sam.

Ethan felt his blood pump faster as Sam and Tara swung their bricks over at him whenever he got too close. Intense thrill coursed through his veins as he playfully swung the knife over at them, purposely missing every single time.

"You had to be punished, along with anyone else who stands in our way." Bailey's loud voice continued to echo throughout the theatre, a scowl on his face as he glared at the two.

Sam's eyes darkened as she glanced up to meet Quinn's eyes, the thoughts running behind them being anything but pure. Quinn noticed the change almost immediately, and she tucked her knife under her chin, lightly placing it against her skin as she tilted her head up. 

"There she is." Quinn whispered, closing some of the distance between them. "There's the fucking killer.”

"Real great parenting job by the way." Tara interjected, realising that their entire family had gone insane.

"Shut your whore fucking mouth!" Quinn screamed, shoving the shorter girl with a hard push, along with Sam who was standing right beside her.

"Have I been the perfect dad? No. Have I maybe over indulged Richie's love of these little movies? Yeah, maybe." Bailey told them, tears on the brink of releasing as his voice cracked slightly. "For me they're just a little dark, but Richie really loved them. He even made a few of his own." 

Everyone’s gaze turned to face the large curtain that was showcasing one of Richie's films. Unknowingly, you felt a scowl form its way onto your face, scoffing at how someone would want to recreate this nightmare.

"Did you- did you know?" Bailey began, walking over to the stage and climbing up the few stairs to get on top of the stage so he could see the screen more clearly. "There's a very special bond between a father and his first son."

Ethan's mouth twitched, the muscle in his jaw tightened as he glanced away from his father. Bailey brought out his hands to showcase the entire room as he told them, "Which is why I helped him build this collection."

"This was all his?" Sam questioned, looking around her.

“What a fucking creep.” You muttered, glancing at Bailey before turning to look at Jill, the older woman watching Bailey with excitement. 

"Yes, he's a very passionate collector, and he inspired others." Bailey gloated, glancing around the room at all the multiple different objects that he had given his son, remembering faintly the way his face lit up whenever he brought him something new. "Oh, we had to kill those two wannabe film students because, well, we had to kill you first, Sam."

"I put the theatre in their name, and then good old Detective Bailey would have just stumbled on it, but I didn't have to because my golly, that Gale Weathers is one hell of a journalist."

At the mention of Gale’s name you felt your body stiffen, a dark gaze swimming beneath your eyes, and it wouldn't take long for any of them to realise it if they simply turned around to look at you. 

"I built a tribute to my son, which is why this is where you have to die, Sam." Bailey's voice thickened, his facial expression blank. "Surrounded by all the things he loved the most."

"What happens next?" Sam asked frantically, glancing around at each of them to get a little more insight on their thought process. "When after you're done with us, what? You just disappear?"

"No, I gotta hurry over to the hospital and make sure Mindy and Gale don't pull through." Bailey scoffed as he walked down the small steps to get off the stage and pulled his gun right at the older girl. "Because everybody dies, Sam! Everyone who had anything to do with the death of my son, suffers and dies!"

"Fuck yeah, they do!" Quinn agreed.

"Yeah!" Ethan shouted, nodding his head along to his fathers words.

"Now put on the mask." Bailey ordered, his words seething through his teeth as Sam glanced down to the floor where the ghostface mask was lying.

"He was," Sam whispered, breathing heavily as she shook her head lightly, "so pathetic."

"Huh?" Bailey's mouth hung open as he tilted his head in disbelief. "Th- that's not true."

"Yeah, your son," Sam continued, eyes holding no regret for the words she was throwing out breathlessly. "He was a man baby who made his girlfriend do all the killing."

“He was a strong feral young man.” Bailey proclaimed, glaring at Sam.

“He was a limp dick, little fuck, who cried before I slit his throat.” Sam said, her eyes hardening as she narrowed them down on Bailey. 

"Shut the fuck up!" Quinn screamed, finally losing control of her anger and running over to Sam with her knife, but Tara was already prepared for her little outburst, and she swung her brick right towards Quinn's jaw, throwing it into her face with full force and watching as a couple of her teeth were knocked out of her mouth as she fell down to the floor.

At that exact moment, Kirby appeared with her gun and shot a couple of bullets over towards Bailey. You ducked down and covered Sidney as you watched Ethan stab Kirby before Sam smacked a brick over his head. 

The older Carpenter took the knife from Kirby and stabbed Ethan repeatedly, the boy groaning in pain as he fell back.

"Sam." Tara called out, glancing back at her sister. “Come on.”

You got up and faced Jill, the woman looking at you menacingly. Sidney stood at your side, her gaze hardening on her cousin. 

Jill flipped the knife in her hand, a grin on her face told you that she had been waiting for this moment for a long time. 

“You really want to do this?” You questioned, getting into a fighting stance.

“You know I do.” Jill replied, her grip tightening on the knife.

“Then let's dance” You said, tilting your head and creating a ‘come here’ motion with your hand.

Jill ran towards you and Sidney, swinging her arm haphazardly, hoping to cut you with the knife in her hand. 

You coordinated your punches with Sidney and you eventually landed a heavy punch to Jill’s ribs, sending the woman back, reeling in pain. 

It didn’t take long for Jill to recover and she was soon running back towards you. Sidney went to punch Jill in the face but she dodged the attack and sent the older woman to the floor with a harsh shove.

Having the wind knocked out of her, Sidney stayed on the floor watching as Jill charged towards you, stabbing her knife towards your face. You blocked it and held her wrists back but got distracted when you heard a gunshot ring out followed by a scream.

You looked to your right and saw Tara grasping onto Sam’s hand as she hung over the edge of the balcony. The older Carpenter held Tara’s hand with all her might but due to the cut on her arm, blood dripped down making Tara slip from her hold. 

“Tara!” You shouted, momentarily distracted and Jill added more pressure to her knife causing it to slip through your hold and into your shoulder. “Fuck!”

Jill then used all her weight to push you down and the pin you to the floor. She straddled your waist and pulled the knife from your shoulder, trying to stab you in the face once again. 

Using all your force, you kept the knife away from your head. Sweat and blood ran down your face, some of it made its way into your eyes, making it hard for you to see. 

“Jill, stop.” You grunted, feeling the tip of the knife make its way closer to your face. “You don’t have to do this.”

“I don’t have to do this?” Jill repeated sarcastically. “I can finally get my revenge and become the famous final girl.”

“Stop with this final girl bullshit! It’s never going to happen!” 

“And what does it matter to you anyway, y/n? You won’t even be here to see it come true.”

“You forgot one thing, Jill.” You said, breathlessly, your arms getting tired. 

“And what’s that?” Jill hissed, grinning down at you widely.

“Never turn you back on Sidney Prescott!”

Sidney came up from behind Jill, stabbing a knife of her own in the younger woman's back. Jill let out a scream, her back arching in pain and she let go of the knife in her hand.

“C’mon, sis,” you sighed, wiping the sweat from your forehead as your hand reached for Jill’s knife, your fingers grasped around it and you plunged it into her side, just under her ribs. “you should know by now, never fuck with the original.”

“How sentimental.” Jill laughed through gritted teeth, groaning in pain as you pushed the knife in deeper with a hardened glare.

“It’s only a taste of your own medicine.” You said, your gaze hardening.

Sidney took the knife out of Jill’s back and you pushed her off you. Getting back on your own two feet, you looked down at Jill, your knife still in her stomach.

You took a step forward, kneeling over Jill as you tilted your head to the side, your eyes boring into hers. You took the knife out of her side and trailed it down from her throat and towards to her chest.

Twirling the knife against Jill’s chest, anticipation coursed through her, your hands itching to dig the sharp weapon into her body.

"Fuck you." Jill launched her fist upwards to try and punch you in the face, but you were the one with the knife, so you pushed the knife in just above her clavicle.

"I should have killed you when I had the chance.” Jill muttered, her words barely above a whisper, blood loss taking a toll on her.

“Probably, but you’re too late now.” You shrugged before you leaned down to whisper in her ear, “hold still.” You raised the knife, digging the sharp metal into her chest. She cried in anguish as you sliced her skin, watching the blood drip down her body. 

Jill placed her hands against your chest, trying to pry you off her body as she struggled to move from underneath you. You brought the knife upwards once more, impaling it into her body, digging it as far into her as the knife could reach.

“S-stop!” Jill stuttered, blood filling in her mouth as she tried to get you to stop in any way possible. “Please. Y/n, please.”

Your chest heaved up and down, you halted your ministrations and looked down at her below you.

“I’m sorry.” Jill coughed, blood splattering on your clothes. “I- I didn’t mean to do any of this.”

You stood up, looking to your side, you saw Sidney look at you with an unreadable expression. She reached behind her and pulled a gun from the back of her belt.

Wordlessly, she handed it to you. You took it from her hesitantly before looking back at Jill, her eyes going back and forth from you to the gun.

“No, no, please. Y/n, don’t do this. Please.” Jill begged, holding up her hands in front of her with all the strength she had left.

You gave Jill one last look before raising the gun up to her head before pulling the trigger. Everything felt numb as you watched your sister's body slump to the floor, blood still pouring from her wounds.

You were soon snapped out of your haze once you heard Tara let out a scream. From behind you, you watched as Tara got stabbed in the stomach by Ethan.

"Gotcha!" Ethan laughed, grinning from ear to ear as he ran his eyes over the girl's wound.

Tara recovered from the stab pretty quickly and shoved her knife deep inside Ethan's mouth, breathing heavily as she watched the pain in his eyes glimmer. 

She let him swallow up his agony for a few seconds before twisting the knife inside, enjoying the painful noises he was making as blood dripped down his mouth. 

"Now die a fucking virgin." Tara sneered, watching as his eyes widened before she pulled the knife out of his mouth. 

His blood splattered on her face and clothing, but she didn't care as she let out a low laugh, lowering down the knife and glancing up to meet your eyes with a smile.

Your eyebrows rose in surprise, a low whistle falling from your mouth as you looked at the younger Carpenter impressed. 

Another gunshot rang throughout the theatre and you looked up at Sam, the girl pointing her gun at Quinn’s body which fell with a loud thud, a bullet wound in the middle of her forehead. 

“I thought she’d put up more of a fight.” You mumbled as your chest heaved up and down.

“It seems that you three didn’t need my help after all.” Sidney said, resting a hand on your shoulder. 

“How did you even get in, anyway?” You asked, looking at the older woman.

“I have my ways.” Sidney smiled. “Being the final girl has some perks.”

You were going to reply but your words got caught in your throat as you watched Sam fall from the balcony and down to the floor below her with Bailey.

You rushed over to Sam, Sidney hot on your tail as the two of you had worried expressions pasted on your faces.

Sam coughed, holding her stomach as she sat up. You placed a gentle hand on her shoulder causing her to turn around and shove you to the floor, immediately regretting it once she saw it was you.

“You okay, there Carpenter?” You asked, looking up at Sam, your hands raised in surrender.

“Sorry.” Sam apologised, holding a hand out for you to grab.

Sam pulled you up from the floor and the two of you stood facing Tara and Sidney, finally being able to take a breath from all the fighting.

“I have a plan to kill Bailey.” Sam spoke up, a hand holding her ribs, still slightly sore from the fall.

“What do you want us to do?” Sidney questioned, looking at Sam intently.

“I need one of you to take these.” Sam said, holding her phone up as well as a voice changer. “And make a phone call for me.”

“I’ll do it.” Tara said, taking the phone from her sister’s hand.

“And what should we do?” You wondered, gesturing between yourself and Sidney.

“You go with Tara and stay somewhere safe until it's okay to come back out.”

“Roger that.” You smiled, sending a salute towards Sam before walking off with Tara and Sidney. 

You turned around and saw Sam putting on her father’s ghostface robe and mask before getting in her position.

Bailey groaned, rubbing his head as he got up from the floor. He looked around and saw that it was only him left in the theatre. 

Pulling his gun from his holster, Bailey jumped at the sound of his phone ringing. 

“Hello detective Bailey,” Tara said over the phone, the Ghostface voice coming through on Bailey’s phone. “I have one question for you.”

“Oh yeah?” Bailey replied, walking up to the stage where the ghostface mannequins were. “What’s that?”

“What’s your favourite scary movie?”

“Favourite scary movie?” Bailey repeated with a chuckle. 

“I’m asking because you’re in one now. You’re in my movie.”

“Oh, and I see you’ve put on your true face, huh? Your birthright.” Bailey said as he shot two mannequins in the head before looking at Billy’s mannequin which didn’t have a robe on it. “Poetic you’re gonna die in it.”

“This is what you wanted, isn't it?” 

“Now you know the truth, huh?” Bailey said after shooting another mannequin. “Murder’s in your blood. Stop fucking around and show yourself!”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“Alright, I am a fucking police officer, how do you think this is going to go, Sam?” Bailey shouted down the phone. “Who d’you think they’re gonna believe, huh?”

“Probably the one who’s still alive.”

Bailey screamed, smashing his phone to the ground, panting as he shook his head. Sam walked on the stage behind him, tilting her head as he turned around. Bailey stammered back, screaming loudly as Sam stabbed every inch of his body that she could. 

When she finally stopped, Sam let Bailey fall to the ground as she took off her mask. The man looked up at her, choking on his own blood. As Sam was about to finish him off for good, Tara came up beside her, you and Sidney opting to stay back.

“My father was a murderer.” Sam said breathlessly. “No matter what you think, I'm better than that.”

Sam looked down at her sister, the latter tilting her head as she relaxed her face. Sam let a small smirk take over her features before turning back to Bailey.

“But you did fuck with our family, so...” Sam said, gripping her knife harder as she shoved it into Bailey’s eye, the man screaming in pain. 

“Nice.” Tara nodded, watching as life drained from Bailey.

“Thanks.” Sam replied. “You okay?”

“No.” Tara chuckled with a shake of her head. 

Sam gave a nod of acknowledgement as she took off her robe. You watched as the sisters walked to the stairs where they sat down, you and Sidney sitting beside them.

Tara rested her head against your shoulder and you gently took a hold of her hand, rubbing comforting circles on the back.

“Thank you for letting me go.” Tara said, looking at her sister as she kept her head on your shoulder.

“I knew you could take care of yourself.” Sam replied and the two sisters shared a smile between them. “I want to be in your life, but only as much as you want me to be.”

“I want you to be.” Tara said quickly. “I promise you I am going to get so much therapy after this. I’m serious. We're going to get through this. Together.” 

All of a sudden, the peaceful moment was interrupted when Ethan ran towards you four, blood dripping out of his mouth and down his chin. Before Ethan could get near, a broken TV was pushed off a table and onto his head, the boy falling to the ground, finally being killed.

“Saw that in a scary movie once.” Kirby smiled, looking over at Sidney as the woman held a look of surprise.

The doors to the theatre were opened, multiple cops running in as Danny followed quickly behind. Sam quickly got up and made her way towards him, being followed closely behind by you, Tara, Sidney and Kirby.

“Are you okay?” Danny questioned, looking Sam over as he cupped her cheeks with a worried look on his face before pulling her into a quick hug.

“Yeah.” Sam nodded with a small smile.

“I thought you might need some reinforcements. And I called the hospital, Mindy and Gale are going to be okay. Mindy’s on her way here now, they couldn’t stop her.”

“Not bad cute boy.” Tara nodded.

“Thanks.” 

“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” Sidney said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

You gave a weak nod, walking out of the theatre with everyone. Once you got wind of fresh air you were rushed into the back of an ambulance. A medic tending to the cuts on your face along with the stab wound in your shoulder.

Sidney sat beside you, the woman holding your hand every time you winced from the pain. After the medic was finished they gave you one more check up before moving onto something else.

Finally feeling fatigue catch up with you, you rested your head against Sidney’s arm. The older woman let a smile form on her face as she wrapped an arm around you, pulling you into her embrace.

“You’re a brave kid.” Sidney said softly, rubbing a hand up and down your arm. “You should never have had to shoot your sister.”

“She lost the right to be my sister when she started killing people.” You said, moving out of Sidney’s embrace.

“Still, no one should ever have to go through what you’ve been through.” 

“I could say the same about you.” You chuckled, bumping your shoulder into hers.

“At least I didn't get stabbed this time, just a little winded.”

“You’re getting old for this, Prescott.” 

“Watch it, y/l/n.”

“Alright, alright, I'm sorry.” You said, a laugh bubbling up from your throat as you held your hands up in surrender.

“I think someone is looking for you.” Sidney said, nodding her head in the direction of a frantic looking Tara, standing beside her sister.

“I’ll be right back.” You said, quickly getting up and making your way over to the girl.

“Y/n!” Tara said, finally spotting you. She ran towards you, the two of you meeting in the middle. “Shit, are you okay? I- I was so caught up I forgot to ask and-”

“Shut up and kiss me.” You cut Tara off, gently placing a hand underneath her chin, using your forefinger and thumb to tilt her head up.

Tara’s breathing was erratic, her heart practically beating out of her chest but she complied. Tara wrapped her hands around your shoulders and pulled you down for a kiss. 

You both sighed contently into the kiss. Easily getting lost in each other’s presence. Butterflies fluttered all around in your stomach as you finally got to kiss your girl with no matter in the world.

“Sorry, that was a bit forward.” You mumbled pulling away, scratching the back of your neck as you rocked backwards and forwards on your feet.

Tara didn’t care and she placed her hands on the side of your face, pulling you into a kiss that took all of the air out of your lungs. Your eyes went wide with shock but you quickly fell back into reality and placed your hands on Tara’s waist, pulling her closer and letting yourself fall into the kiss.

Tara let out a small gasp once your lips separated and you smiled once you saw her chest rapidly falling up and down with a small blush coating her cheeks and you couldn't help the smile that threatened to break out on your face.

Due to the closeness of the two of you, both your faces barely an inch away from each other, you could see every intricate detail on her face. You admired her for a little while but you couldn’t contain yourself so you crashed your lips back against hers. 

The kiss broke naturally, leaving pecks as you moved your face away from Tara. You rested your forehead against Tara’s, small chuckles falling from your lips.

“Your sister is going to kill me.” You whispered, wrapping your arms around Tara’s shoulders to pull her into a hug.

“One-hundred percent.” Tara replied, wrapping her arms around your waist and resting her head against your chest.

“You’re worth it.” You mumbled, placing a kiss to the top of her head.

“Okay, you two.” Sidney said, walking over to you and Tara. “That's enough sappy shit for now.”

“Sid!” You exclaimed, looking at the woman in shock. “What the hell!”

“Oh come on, let’s go see Kirby.” Sidney said, walking over to where Kirby and Sam were.

You followed behind, hand in hand with Tara, taking your time together. 

“You ever need me, call.” Kirby said, talking to Sam, but turning to you and Tara as she saw you both walk over. “We’re all apart of the same fucked up family now. And also, legacy doesn’t always have to be a bad thing, okay?”

You smiled at Kirby but it quickly vanished once you heard Tara sniffle beside you, the younger Carpenter looking to the ground as her bottom lip started to quiver, tears falling from her eyes.

“Hey.” Kirby said, looking over at Tara, seeing as you pulled her into your arms.

“It’s just Chad-”

“Hey we got another one here!” A medic shouted, wheeling the boy out on a stretcher.

“Chad!” Tara shouted, running over to the boy with you and Sam not far behind her.

“How the fuck are you still alive?” You muttered, looking at him in disbelief.

Chad smiled, holding his hand up and showing five fingers. 

“Core fucking five.” Tara smiled, pulling the boy into a hug.

“Oh my god, you guys okay?” Mindy shouted, running over to you. “I know who the killer is, it's Ethan and Bailey.”

“And Quinn.” Sam said.

“And Quinn, fuck!” Mindy huffed.

“And Jill.” You added.

“Jill? But she was dead? Wait, I missed the monologue again!” Mindy shook her head, not believing it all, holding on to her brother's side as he was wheeled into the back of an ambulance. “Wait, are you okay? You don’t look okay. Oh my god we all survived.” 

As Chad and Mindy were taken away in an ambulance, Sam looked down in her coat that was hiding her fathers mask, seemingly in a trance she was snapped out of it by Tara’s voice.

“Sam.” Tara said, her hand grasping yours. “You coming?”

Sam nodded her head with a smile, dropping the mask to the floor. She walked up to you two and the three of you walked back over to Sidney, the woman standing by herself as Kirby was taken to a hospital too.

“You guys going to be okay?” Sidney asked, her gaze focusing on you for a moment longer.

“We will be.” Sam said, looking over at you and Tara.

“Yeah, we’ve got each other.” You smiled, tightening your grip on Tara’s hand. 

“Just like Kirby said, if you need anything, you call me. Okay?” Sidney said, reciprocating your smile. 

“We will.” You nodded. Sidney gave you one last look before walking off and down the road. 

“So…” Sam trailed off, looking at you and Tara then glancing down to your conjoined hands. “You two a thing now?”

“Oh my god, Sam!”

tag list: @andsoigotabutterfly @dksjskx @dreifhraniquo29 @karsonromanoff @btay3115 @bananasplits-world @youralphawolf72 @beaniiekidd

[fruity-fruition]

Future Wondershow!!

Everything is amazing and ideal because I cannot handle a sad ending between them they're my lifeline

--

Tsukasa and Nene are young skilled up-rising stars in both theatre and film industry who both are rapidly growing at an incredible rate due to their natural charisma, their history of already having a quite successful troupe in high school, mixed with both stubborn hard work and willingness/ideas to do insane shit due to being under Rui's direction for so long.

Rui is also an up-rising director who took the world by storm at how innovative his directing is in a field that's lacking in passion recently. Mixed with everything I've stated for Nene and Tsukasa too.

Emu took over the theme park business kind of. She's sharing with her brother's still, who's showing her the ropes and the actual mechanism of how everything works. Shosuke and Keisuke had fully embraced Emu's bright ideas and cheery attitude now, both thanks to working with WxS for so long and Emu showing them how capable she actually is, despite her optimistic naivety. The park is running to be as successful as ever, now Emu finally has power to make the changes she knows her grandpa would be proud of.

--

Tsukasa, Nene, and Rui often work together on projects which lead their fan community to be merged in a way. It started off divided, with Tsukasa and Nene fans fighting near constantly due to the two coming into the field at the exact same time, but eventually most of the public know that if one is there, the other two won't be that far behind.

--

Tsukasa, Rui, and Nene often get invited to those fancy parties, (they absolutely do not like it. It's too boring. But they go anyway because they need to build connections and stuff apparently) and every time they have the opportunity to invite a plus one, they drag Emu with. None of them stay at the main hall for long, and they'd drag each other outside to either the balcony or garden and just hang around.

This ALWAYS results in them going viral on some sort of social media, with the press never failing to capture a photo of all four of them hanging about and laughing with each other.

--

Their work often brings them apart a lot of times, and even though they still meet weekly in the SEKAI, it's just not the same.

So once every year, they all clear their schedules completely for a full week or more so they could go on a holiday together. It doesn't really matter where. They could stay at home a lounge for the whole week for all they care. But they still do it just to physically be there with each other.

(bonus point if they invite other friends too. Saki, Toya, Mizuki, etc)

--

Again, schedules and overseas work contrast each other a lot of times if they're all working on a project.

But whenever Rui, Tsukasa, and Nene end up home all at once, unplanned, they all collectively decide to just drag Emu to go out with them to their old restaurant that they always go to after a show in high school.

Emu's employees have gotten used to seeing Emu piggyback riding Rui/Tsukasa at full speed leaving the office that they have an entire protocol that Emu and her brothers made for when it happens.

--

Wondershow would do random livestreams together. Either gaming, or baking, or painting each other's nails. They have no specific genre. They just do it for fun.

Nene would still do singular gaming livestreams still, because it's one of her passions.

--

I have more but the rest is kinda shippy and I wanted to keep this PURELY Wondershow friendship because I love Wondershow friendship so much guys they're everything I hate them

(you can so clearly tell that English isn't my native language in this post. Wow. I'm so sorry I hope it's coherent enough)

[perfectsunlight]

𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐞 𝐠𝐨 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧 [𝟏]

𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿

𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀: 𝘀𝘂𝗯𝘀𝘁𝗮𝗻𝗰𝗲 𝗮𝗯𝘂𝘀𝗲, 𝗹𝗮𝗻𝗴𝘂𝗮𝗴𝗲, 𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗮𝗰𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗲𝘀

𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗱 𝗰𝗼𝘂𝗻𝘁: 𝟮,𝟴𝟭𝟴

𝗽𝗮𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀: 𝗴𝗿𝗼𝘂𝗽𝗶𝗲 𝗹𝗼𝘃𝗲

“yes, we understand the situation.” SM’s managers were gathered in an emergency meeting. the finance team was on standby, as well as the leader of the team was currently on the phone. from the outside, it seemed as if it was an intense business meeting, like ones that you see in movies where companies end up making millions from securing a partnership. some men were hunched over their chairs, some were pacing around the room, and others were running their hands through their hair trying not to rip it out.

however, no one from the outside could guess the real reason behind this fraught situation. 

the team leader gripped the work phone in his hand tightly, knuckles whitening as he scrolled with his other hand through the numerous images dispatch had sent SM entertainment. as his mouse wheel scrolled through each one, the team leader’s look of stress only deepened. each image seemed to be worse than the last, and he finally hung his head in defeat. there was no way they could cover this up if it got released to the public.

“how much do you want?” 

the movements of the others in the room stopped, and a dreadful silence filled the room. all gazes shifted to the suited man at the front of the room. 

a painful expression was present in his features. he only shut his eyes and nodded before mumbling an “okay” in agreement. he slammed the handset against the receiver, a thin film of sweat on his forehead ever evident as he threw stacks of papers that were once occupied on his desk. 

they each flew and fell in different directions as he also kicked his chair, rattling the entire desk and knocking down a few desk ornaments in the process. no one in the room flinched, an obvious foretelling sign that this was not the first time a scenario like this had happened. 

the team leader’s fist slammed down on the desk, making everyone’s head turn to face him once again. the hand on his desk shook violently, and his other one pulled at his collar in an attempt to loosen it. he was fuming and seething with anger, pure venom dripping from his voice as he shouted.

“where is she?”

-

minjeong’s arms stretched forward, watching herself in the mirror with aeri next to her. the japanese girl was stretching as well. giselle’s hair fell over her face as she bent down to touch her toes. the otherwise silent room was filled with the faint ticking of the clock on the wall.

they were scheduled to practice in preparation for an upcoming performance. each of the aespa members also had an individual solo stage. the anticipation and amount of work that had went into preparations was unfathomable. each of the idols were also beyond excited for their comeback, especially after it being delayed for so long. from the outside, it was like everything was falling into place. well, almost everything.

there was still one piece that was missing. 

“it’s been over an hour, jimin unnie.” winter tried to reason. they only had a few short hours to practice today, which was why it was important that everyone show up on time. however, that was definitely not what had happened.

karina’s scowl only deepened as she glared at the clock. her brows furrowed deeper as she stood up and stomped over to the door. she yanked it open and craned her neck to look both ways down the hallway. 

she was hoping to hear footsteps, or even the sound of the elevator dinging to signal that someone had used it. unfortunately, she was only met with silence. 

“we could just run our solos?” giselle suggested from behind her. it was the only thing they could run without their fourth member there. 

minjeong turned to nod in agreement with her older member. they had been waiting long enough, and it was obvious that they were going to have to run the practice regardless. she ran a hand through her hair, frustrated at the situation, but understanding that there was only so much they could do.

“maybe try calling her one last time?” she offered timidly, knowing already how many times karina had called their youngest member. 

karina let out an agitated huff before she stomped over to her phone. she mumbled a few curses under her breath before placing it next to her ear. the dial tones rang, each one dragging with suspense until it finally went to voicemail once again.

“yah! ning yi zhuo! you have 5 minutes to get here and if not you’re going to get it! it’s been over an hour, and we’ve been waiting!”

she ended the call by pressing the big red button on her screen before tossing her phone back onto the shelf. furious was not even a strong enough word to describe what jimin was feeling. as a leader, she needed the other member there. as a friend, she was disappointed, but not surprised at all in the slightest. 

“jeongie, we can start with you.” jimin shouted as she ran a hand through her hair out of frustration. it was beyond her control, but she still knew that she would be held responsible since she was the leader. 

“where is she?”

-

tails of smoke danced in the air, each one disappearing before her eyes. the tile of the bathroom floor felt cool against her bare back, contrasting with the heat being generated from the blunt in her hand. the afternoon sun shone through the glass and casted shades of deep orange across the room. 

the chinese woman watched the trees dance in the wind from the small bathroom window, admiring the shadows they cast into the room. she liked watching them dance. she danced all the time, every single day. for once, she was simply enjoying mother nature performing for her, and she was loving every moment of it.

however, this could also just be because she was completely high out of her mind.

her lips met the tip of the blunt once again. ningning inhaled the smoke, feeling the burn in her throat and lungs as the vapor traveled through her body. the tingling in her head turned fuzzy, and the young woman couldn’t help but smile at the effect. 

it was short lived though, because she heard her phone start ringing again. she already knew it was karina, her leader. the idol had told herself that she would make it to practice, and she even promised jimin that she would be there today.

except, she got side tracked once her dealer brought her more weed, and how could she refuse a quick smoke break?

she had lost track of time, truthfully. she didn’t mean to stay there on her bathroom floor for more than 30 minutes, but the high felt too good for her to stop. it was always like this whenever she got new weed, so in her mind, it was jimin’s fault for not remembering how she gets.

thoughts of work and their comeback stage only made her upset, causing her to no long find enjoyment in her high. she was only 3/4 of the way through her blunt, and she was not about to waste it since she had just gotten the fresh cannabis today.

ning suffocated the cherry before leaving it in the ashtray next to her on the floor. she would get back to her smoke session later on, assuming she wasn’t going out tonight.

she sat up slowly and stared at herself in the glass from the shower door. it then dawned on her that she was topless, and in nothing but a pair of underwear and socks. well, it wasn’t that she had not known she was topless, but rather that she had forgotten.

she tends to lose track and forget a lot of things when she’s high. 

the youngest aespa member picked up her phone and played the most recent angry voicemail from her leader. the only words she was able to make out were “5 minutes” and “been waiting.” she stood up slowly, holding onto the bathroom counter for support as she began putting some sweats and a bra on. 

she moved as fast as she could, stumbling a little. it wasn’t the high that made her disoriented, but rather the day drinking she had done earlier this morning. to be quite frank, ningning had taken the kesha lyric “brush my teeth with a bottle of jack” a bit too seriously. 

there were two things ning loved more than herself: weed and whiskey.

after being in the industry for so long, ning no longer felt like she had to fit into the “good girl” image. she’s been living on her own since she was a teenager, and the moment she left china she knew she wanted to have fun. she missed out on so much of it since she spent her childhood singing and dancing on a stage.

if it was up to her, she would rather quit her idol life and instead smoke, party, and drink merrily until the day she died. 

unfortunately for her, that was not something she was allowed to do. it already caused numerous issues for her, already.

ning knew that there were numerous photos of her having sex with a fanboy outside one of the clubs just outside of seoul. it was obvious it was her too, since once she saw the cameras, she simply just pulled her top town further and turned her neck to make the tattoo of her initial visible. 

she also may have flipped off the cameras, but she doesn’t remember if she actually did. she also didn’t even remember the guy’s name, either. it didn’t matter, anyway. she’d never see him again.

she would probably get scolded again for making the company spend another million or two to just make dispatch keep quiet. ironically, ningning always showed up to those staff meetings already high out of her mind. she knew they were going to yell at her, and she already knew what she did, so why should she sit there and listen?

the chinese idol threw a hoodie on before making her way out of the dorm and towards the elevator. thankfully, it was only two floors below their dorm, meaning she could get there in time before karina got even more upset with her.

she sometimes felt bad for her group members since they had to always deal with her. 

karina was always doing her best to help ning’s image, at least in the group, as clean as possible. even if it was as obvious as a red wine stain on white sheets, jimin never said anything bad about ning in the public eye or even to the other staff members.

giselle was often her party buddy, but the half japanese girl could never hold her liquor the way ning did. most of the time, it was aeri babysitting her and keeping her out of trouble. even though she ruined a lot of her fun, she knew the older girl meant well.

then there was winter. minjeong was the second youngest in the group. they spent a lot of time together eating out and trying new restaurants, which was why whenever ning had a little too much to drink the night before, she would wake up to a box of takeout. “hangover soup” as winter had coined it. the slightly older girl was always looking out for her, just like her other members.

which was why she felt bad sometimes. they were trying so hard to keep her from going further down the path she was on. it was useless, really. because it wasn’t like she had any plans of changing. 

and if she wasn’t going to change, or even think about it, why should she bother apologizing?

the young idol made her way out of the elevator once the ding sounded. she slipped out slowly as the doors parted, throwing her hair up into a messy bun. it was just practice, and it wasn’t like she was going to be there long anyway.

especially since she was almost two hours late. 

“look who’s finally here,” jimin commented as the chinese girl entered the room. the bright lights of the practice room irritated her eyes, causing her head to throb in distaste. she was still high, and slightly buzzed, and even though she was used to these feelings, it didn’t mean it made it less annoying to deal with.

unfortunately, her members were also used to it, but it didn’t mean that it made them any less upset.

“ningie,” minjeong sighed in disappointment as she physically recoiled at the strong odor of marijuana coming from the younger girl.

 “holy shit, how much did you smoke?” aeri called from the other side of the room. “i can smell it from here.”

ningning slid her shades from her pocket and put them on, already tired of being here. she didn’t know why they were complaining. she showed up, didn’t she? that should be enough.

“let’s just practice.” the chinese idol snapped. ningning wanted to get out of there as fast as she could, and the only way to do that was to get their dance practice done. “at least i showed up.” she added while she slid her slippers off and walked towards the center of the room. 

minjeong and aeri both glanced at each other before looking back at their leader. “you know, ning? you’re a pretty functional stoner slash alcoholic.” aeri pointed out as she got into her position on the floor. giselle’s witty comment did have some truth to it. ning may be a mess, but at least she was a somewhat functional mess. 

karina scoffed. it wasn’t like her to get upset usually, she was their leader after all, but she was sick and tired of the youngest member’s antics. jimin loved ningning, the girl was like a child to her. but as the oldest, and the leader, she knew that the other girl was beyond help. 

“what are you waiting for, unnie? you ran my shit up, and now im here. let’s go.” the youngest member ranted. she wanted to go back to her unfinished blunt and half empty bottle of jack daniels. they complained about her being late, and now here she was, and they weren’t moving.

jimin bit the inside of her cheek as she rose from her seated position. she shook her head as she took her position in the center with the other girls before waiting for the music to start.

practice went as well as it could have, and despite ning’s current state, she was able to keep up pretty decently. the only things she didn’t do were any ground moments or anything that involved her almost breaking her neck. she already had a migraine, she didn’t need another one. unfortunately, the aespa members only got barely an hour in to practice before irene and seulgi were scheduled to use the room. 

the four girls made their way out of the room, ningning noticing the not so subtle looks of disappointment from the senior girls. she knew a lot of the idols in SM didn’t approve of her lifestyle, but it wasn’t like she exactly cared about their opinions.

karina’s gaze noticed the way ning walked in the opposite direction as them. her brows furrowed in confusion. “ning?” 

minjeong noticed the girl walking in the other direction and called out after her. “ningie, i don’t know if you’re still high, but the dorm is this way.”

the chinese girl turned her head over her shoulder and replied back before making her way to the other door at the opposite end of the wall. “i’m going out.”

aeri rolled her eyes, winter shook her head, and karina only placed her hands on her hips as she watched the youngest member slip out the door. 

jimin turned and followed her other sober members towards the elevator. the raven haired girl knew that ningning would definitely come home drunk out of her mind, or she was going to end up calling one of them from a stranger’s phone to come and pick her up because she lost her phone somewhere and couldn’t get home on her own. 

just last night alone, ning almost fell down the stairs because she was too disoriented to find where the railing was. thankfully jimin was with her and helped her get up to her room in one piece, but it was always a struggle doing such a task.

and yu jimin knew that she would, without the shadow of a doubt, that she would have to do it again later tonight. shaking her head in disapproval, she quietly mumbled to herself while watching the elevator doors open.

“here we go again.”

𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧: @jiihu @silantryoo @rosiehrs @craftymasterlistcomicsprune @skisk1 @jisooftme @babycubchae @yunjinhart

[anyaispunk]

Let Us Last Forever

Summary: Daniel couldn't imagine a life without fulfilling your dreams.

Word Count: 841

Note: Just pure fluff and listen to Cody Fry - Photograph while you read this if you can.

You’re both on your way back to your hotel after Daniel finished his meetings, and you decided to come. You almost regret your decision to come along because it lasted for hours.

Music filled the entire ride. He loves music, and you’re certainly sure that his blue McLaren 720s speakers only have a break when he’s not riding the car. Luckily, you both have the same taste in music. So as soon as the first song is played, the two of you start vibing immediately.

After a couple of rap songs, a very contrast music is beginning to play. Cody Fry’s Photograph piano brings warmth into your chest.

"OH MY GOD. I LOVE THIS SONG," you exclaimed while looking at him.

It's the evening light

Shining through the curtains

The time before the night

When everything is golden

 

You sang along beautifully as Dani chuckled, looking at you.

Now you close your eyes while singing. Scenarios are running through your head. You can’t help it. This song makes you happy, thinking about the future you’ll have with your other half. Even though at this point, you have no idea who he is. But… you have one particular man on your mind.

If I wished myself a superpower

I would make this moment last for hours

If I had my will, time would just stand still

Wait for me until I find some magic film

To take a photograph and live inside

 

Dani couldn’t help but smile as wide as he could. You looked so beautiful. Savouring every single word of the lyrics. Making it more meaningful when it already is.

You opened your eyes and turned to him. His eyes were sparkling, just like yours. One pair full of hope and the other full of adoration. 

The song was still playing. He let no questions out, but you felt like you wanted to explain. Wondering why you suddenly have the urge to tell him everything, remembering you’re the kind of person that keeps everything to yourself. But whenever you’re with him, you turn into a book that begs to be read.

"I love this song," you said for the second time to start your explanation.

You both stared at the traffic ahead.

"Each time I hear this song, I can picture myself with my husband. Sitting on a bench not too far from the beach, on the edge of a low cliff." you smiled as the scene got clearer and clearer.

"We’re gonna make a video based on this song. Visualising every single thing the lyrics have. As the sun goes down, the light gorgeously hits our face. We’re looking at each other and feel nothing but happiness, blessed, and much much love. It’s overwhelming but we craved it." Tears began to form in your eyes. Not realizing that Dani has been holding his tears and grabbing the steering wheel too tight until his knuckles are white in an attempt to fight his tears from falling.

"And we’ll hold on to that moment as long as we live. Watching the video now and then, so we couldn’t forget how it felt as it was yesterday. Every time we are happy, we’ll look at it so we remember that happiness isn’t just when something worth celebrating for. Every time we are sad, we’ll look at it so we remember to be grateful because we still have each other. Every time we’re away, we’ll look at it so we remember there’s someone to come home to. Or even every time we fight, so we remember that no matter how pissed we are, we love each other more."

I need some way to prove that this was real

A memory is not enough

I'm scared that I'll forget the way it feels

To be young and in love

 

Knowing what you’ll say next, your tears inevitably fall to your cheeks.

"One day, when one of us is gone. We’ll have something to assure ourselves to keep living. So our love stayed alive. Until one of us successfully passes it on to our kids and makes sure that they carry our love to pass it on, over and over again. Because that’s how strong our love is."

Let me stay right here

Just a moment longer

The picture is so clear

Please let this last forever

 

Your words ended at the same time as the song. You finally have the guts to look at Dani, scared that he finds you weird or an incredibly drama queen.

But when you looked at him, you found none of those. Only love and tears. You panicked and hurriedly reached out to grab some tissues. You wiped his cheeks and asked,

"Why are you crying?" there’s a hint of concern in your tone.

"Because I don’t know what I’m gonna do for the rest of my life if not making your words come true."

[melonba11s]

Forest Fire (Strade/Plus-Size MC Fanfic)

This is a fic I wrote for @bitterandrotten ! Please follow them, they have very lovely art and sell cute keychains!

Contains: Afab MC, Plus Size MC, Oral (receiving), Non-Con, stress position, torture, after care, No ones being burned alive but theres a lot of fire based analogies used, knife play, it's Strade

Was there a way to make someone feel the pain of being burned alived without killing them? Sweat was dripping down your entire body, but it offered nothing to soothe the absolute fire coursing through your muscles.

Your feet were barely touching the ground, you could brush your toes across it but gain no support. It was driving you absolutely mad. Your arms wrenched behind you, attached to a thick metal hook Strade had embedded into the concrete, purely for this reason.

One tiny scene in a film he was watching, portrayed the torture of stress positions, and he’d had to try it. You had felt his fingers curl around your shoulder as the scene played out, his breath quickening as the protagonist screamed in absolute agony.

The actor’s dramatic performance couldn’t hold a candle to how this actually felt though. You were in such pain there was no longer any energy to scream. Each breath you took only served to make your bones creak, your muscles strain and your taut skin threaten to split.

Something that Strade was quickly growing bored with, you could tell. He liked it when you screamed, when you cried, when you begged. He wanted you to talk. Maybe that’s why he had given up on just watching, waiting from the shitty lawn chair he’d set up in the basement. You blinked dimly as the glint of metal caught your eye.

That knife, that fucking knife… He had it again. Approaching you, you only managed to whine pitifully as he held it to your arm, humming softly.

“This isn’t working as well as I’d hoped it would.” he said, looking disappointed, eyes raking over your sweat soaked body.

`“Well! Can’t believe everything you see in movies!” His mood switched instantly, as he ran the blade of the knife down your side, cutting perfectly between where two of your ribs were.

That's what ripped a scream from you, you jerked, away from the knife, less in pain but more in surprise. Movement made everything worse, and that's when the suspension finally ripped a more pain filled scream from you. Your entire body was on fire, the sweat it had produced to try and save it was now adding to it, the salty liquid running into the fresh cut.

Despite all of that though…

“Again.” You managed to wheeze out. The cut had been bliss compared to the hell your muscles were under. Your request brought a smile to Strades face, and he was more than ready to play dumb.

“Again? Do what again?” he asked, knowing it would take you several moments to catch a breath to speak again. While he waited, his rough, calloused hands made themselves at home on your body. Squeezing a handful of your stomach, rolling it in his hands as he waited for you to make your needs more clear.

“Cut. Me. Again.” You managed to spit out, a deep wheezing gasp between every word. He stopped playing with your soft flesh, flipping the knife in his hands and running it easily over your tummy. It hurt, but you could focus on it. You focused on how the tip dipped into your curves, how it began to split it so easily. Like carving through butter. And it was this focus that allowed you to stay still, to block out the fire in your veins caused by those damn chains and gravity.

And as soon as he took it out, Strade had his hands on you again. Smearing blood up your front, and you knew this was on purpose, using just enough strength to send your body rocking with the suspension. Even though there wasn’t much room to move, considering the short length of the chains hooking you to the wall, even just the whisper of movement he put on you caused you to scream again.

This time words found their way out too, begging that he craved. Declarations. Babbles about how your arms were about to be torn off, your nails dug so deeply into your palms from pain that you could feel blood running down them, wetting the chains.

Your hair hung in limp, clumpy curtains around your face, absolutely soaked through with sweat. You watched as it dripped down to the floor, your pain addled brain willing to cling to the most mundane of things as long as it served to distract from your torture. You could just begin to make out the soft “plap” of drops of liquid hitting the concrete before Strade’s knife found the junction of your hip and thigh.

He teased the folds of flesh there, as if he were teasing a lover, scraping the knife against it, before sinking it in. Strade had found his rhythm with this new type of fun, it seemed.

He couldn’t just let you stay there, silently hang in agony. He had to introduce other stimuli, prevent you from blacking out or blocking out anything. As blood poured down your thigh, he shifted his position, sliding his hand between your legs.

At first you dimly hoped he would lift you, ever so slightly. Instead though, he only began to rub your slit, dipping his fingers between it, a laugh rumbling in his chest as you instinctively squeezed your thighs around him, trapping his hand there.

“Eager?” He said, his voice sounding absolutely jovial. He tugged his hand out with some effort, and while you kept your gaze straight, you knew he was sucking his own fingers. He let out a low groan, sinking down to his knees.

You couldn’t lie, you had had fleeting thoughts in the past of being the one to tower over him. But those were little power fantasies of finally gaining back control, putting him in his place. Like this, with Strade nuzzling his cheek against your thigh, grinning up at you… It was no different from when he stood above you as you were tied to the pole, sitting on the ground.

Perhaps it was even more humiliating, though, as Strade pressed his face between your thighs, spreading them ever so slightly as he rose up until his lips met your cunt.

He didn’t get in so much as a single brush of his tongue against you though until you took advantage of him being so close, leverage and lift being available. You raised your legs up and instantly snapped them around his head, trying to take some pressure off your poor arms.

And it worked, to a point. There was no blissful relief, your arms were still stretched back uncomfortably, shoulders still twisted unnaturally. But at least a bit of your weight was taken off of them. And Strade was laughing, muffled. The scruff of his cheek tickled your inner thighs, his eyes gleaming with absolute joy. You could practically hear his voice, teasing you for being so eager.

He knew you weren’t eager for it, in fact you’d rather he do anything else right now. But as long as it sparked even the slightest bit of anger in you, Strade would do it. No matter how you felt though it didn’t stop the shudder that went up your spine, as his tongue ran over you yet again. His fingers were curling into your thick thighs painfully, as he began to lap at you like he was devouring a favored treat. Perhaps he was.

You couldn’t quite moan in your situation, instead you were letting out gasping, short wails. Each wave of pleasure was followed by a contradicting wave of pain throughout your body. Strade couldn’t be exactly comfortable where he was, his cheeks squished between your legs as you squeezed them together harder. Dimly you made an effort to try and cause him pain, images of his skull cracking between your thighs offering the smallest of comfort.

It didn’t stop him though, as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking hard. You tilted your head back as best you could, letting out a wail. It was overstimulating, far more painful than it was pleasurable. Your legs crossed around him, pulling him in closer despite desperately wanting to push him away.

And of course he didn’t stop. Before meeting Strade, orgasms had been a source of pleasure, relaxment for you. You hadn’t dreamed they could be painful.

You knew better now, Strade had forced you to see how he could turn your body against yourself. It beat on the inside of your head like a drum, like a stake being driven into your core as you screamed, cumming against him, feeling his teeth lightly scrape across your folds as he grinned, licking up his prize.

Your legs dropped from his shoulders as he moved away, standing up. Instantly, the fire was back, singing your muscles, coursing through your veins, every inch of you screaming for relief.

Strade was talking, saying something. You couldn’t quite hear him though over the crackling of the flames. Or were those your tendons and joints popping, finally giving out? Strade spoke again, and you tried to lift your head to look at him, open your mouth to speak.

Your body was in revolt now though, it refused to obey. You simply hung their limply, letting the fire rage on. Then there was the sound of a chain unlocking, the grating of metal on metal felt way too loud.

First your feet were flat on the floor, for a mere second as you stumbled forward. Your knees hit the concrete, surely bruised by the force. You moved your arms forward to catch yourself, but they still wouldn’t obey, and your cheek smacked into the floor. The concrete was cold, a rain shower came to put out the flames. You closed your eyes, hoping desperately that now that the blaze was over, you could just slip into unconsciousness.

But when the fire stopped burning, it was not without its damage. You tried to move your arms. There was nothing to move though. It was as though you were separated from them, they were no longer your own. The only thing left behind were the burnt stumps.

A hand on your shoulder, it felt more like a knife being driven into it as the abused muscle screamed in agony. You weren’t sure though if you were making a noise though. It felt as though you were underwater, everything was foggy. You were being shaken.

A few words managed to swim their way towards you though through it.

“... went too far?...” A few slaps to the face, then a slow caress, as if to erase the previous violent action. Slowly, you opened your eyes, meeting a pair of amber ones. Strade’s scrunched up, frowning expression relaxed a little as you stared at him.

“Aw, there’s those pretty eyes…” He sighed, almost wistful sounding, as he rubbed your cheek. You closed them again though quickly, trying to stop the flood of tears. A strange sensation was running through your arms. You could feel every string of muscle, a combination of numbness and needles running up them.

Your blood was boiling water, your skin was ash-laden earth. You wanted to scream, you wanted to throw up, you wanted to just pass out. A hand on your shoulder again, and you flinched back, finally finding your voice to let out a pitiful noise. You felt ruined, you didn’t even sound like yourself.

Strade was muttering to himself in German, and you heard the sound of his footsteps walking away. The quiet was bliss, you no longer had to strain yourself to comprehend what he was saying. But it was also torture, you had nothing to focus on to take your mind off of the pain.

You laid there in that torturous purgatory, wishing he’d come back, hoping he’d stay away, for a while. His footsteps approaching again filled you with both relief and fear.

“Here you go, Schatz.” His voice sounded soft, affectionate. You opened your eyes again just in time for him to lay something on your back. The muffled rustle of a bag, the instant chill, as well as the fast relief it applied. A large, makeshift ice pack.

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. The ache in your lungs told you that you’d been breathing unevenly for a while, and you began to gulp in the air as if you were a fish released back into the water.

“I guess I’ll be sticking to the knives for a while, won’t I?” One of his hands began to knead against your lower back. His fingers digging into the knots that had formed there, his palms smoothing them out.

You still couldn’t find any energy to respond with words, but you let out a grunt. You’d really prefer he’d cut you open to the fresh hell you’d experienced today.

However, this was also rather nice. You couldn’t help but sigh in relief as his hands descended, not yet wanting to touch your more sore parts, to your thighs. He filled his grip with handfuls of your flesh, kneading it, warming it with his own heat. Over the pain of your shoulders, you’d barely noticed the ache in your legs from straining for the floor.

But it was all ebbing away now underneath the calloused pads of his fingers. Strade continued to speak, even though you were unresponsive.

“You’ve got a lot of tension, Liebe.”

You let out an indignant snort. Who’s fault was that?

There was a rumbling noise you recognized as the beginning of a laugh from deep within Strade’s chest. The ice pack on your back was beginning to cause condensation to bead along your skin. Soothing water to cool the fire.

You experimentally moved an arm, only to hiss in pain. Strade began moving his hands back up, his beginnings of a laugh rising to a chuckle. This time, his hands moved to your sides. You flinched, the feather light touch tickling before he sunk his fingers into your flesh. It felt more like he was kneading you like you were dough than he was massaging you.

“I always loved how soft you are…” Strade mumbled, repeating something he’d said many times before. “It’s like having dinner. You’re always happier when there’s more food on the plate.” You wrinkled your nose at his analogy. It was like he was going to tear you apart, devour you… Considering the state he put you in, perhaps he was.

“I do think though… That you’re more like dessert.” He lifted the ice pack, beginning to move his fingers up to the most affected areas. You prepared yourself for gripping pain, of him digging his fingers into the tender muscle.

Instead though, he began gentle, as if he were stroking a cat.

“You’re meant to be savored… A rare treat. And you taste so sweet.” You heard him flick his tongue out to lick his lips. If you had the energy too, you’d surely blush right now, tell him to shut up.

His touches remained gentle, rubbing your chilled skin until it began to warm from his heat. Finally, you found the energy to speak.

“Strade… Can I have some Tylenol?” You asked. Your voice felt like gravel, your throat crackling as you spoke. Strade let out another laugh, though you didn’t see what was funny. But Strade had a habit of doing that, laughing just because he wanted to.

“You sound like ein frosch…” His fingers began to increase their pressure, sending a jolt of discomfort through you. “Let me help you to your feet, we’ll get you to the couch, and I’ll see if I have any.”

As you began to help you rise and stumble onto your shaking legs, he was laughing again. Your pain-addled, exhausted brain began to register something though. Strade laughed so much, because he found joy in something. He often laughed around you, because he found joy in you.

You felt like a fire was lit in you again. But rather than a raging forest fire, destroying life in its path… This was more like a campfire on a cold night. Warming, Comforting, and life saving.

[onsomekindofstartrek]

It’s Moon Day Once Again

Apollo 11 was truly an incredible moment in history, and I think people now don’t really conceptualize how difficult and objectively unwise what these men did was.

Like, riding a motorcycle on the freeway is unwise. You’re basically a human with a little bit of metal accelerating you to speeds you can’t fully deal with, around much larger machines that wouldn’t be terribly damaged by smashing into you, also going at extreme speeds.

Going to the moon in 1969 was a lot like that. By April 1961 a man had orbited the earth. That was already very difficult at the time. Computers were rudimentary. Rocket technology was still very largely being designed around ideas that German scientists developed for Hitler’s V2 missiles, in both the East and West.

Now, the one good thing about being in orbit is, it’s not that hard to come down. You lose a certain amount of momentum, and suddenly your ballistic trajectory is no longer an ellipse but a parabola that intersects the ground. With parachutes you can even survive that intersection! Sometimes.

To get to the moon, for most of the way, you can be in a free return trajectory. That means you’re in an trajectory that would make an incomplete figure-8 before intersecting the atmosphere, which would rob you of enough momentum to bring you safely in to an ocean landing. You could lose main power and as long as you could keep the life support online and not freeze, you’d be fine.

As long as you didn’t step one foot (metaphorically) out of that trajectory. If you do, if, for instance, you want to orbit the moon and land there, then you better damn well hope you can put yourself back in a return trajectory or… you ain’t coming home.

For the first time, humans were flying so high that what went up might not come down.

Theoretically if you lost the ability to deorbit while still in a circular orbit around earth, they could have probably found a way to save you even in the 60’s.

But if you were going to the moon you had to be damn sure. You had to be motherfucking confident that your engine would re-ignite and put you back in an orbit that would lead you back to Earth, or else once you left the path, there would be a potential of getting stuck where nothing you could do would save you from a cold, choking death. This happened to some guys, by the way, and they lived, by the most stunning feat of engineering legerdemain in the history of space travel. There’s a film about them.

And things weren’t looking good. The first Apollo spacecraft ever built killed the three men who were supposed to fly it, on the ground in a goddamned dry run. In a pure oxygen environment, the Velcro they were planning on using to keep pens from floating around became extremely flammable and something caused a spark, causing it to go up like gasoline. The fire increased pressure in the capsule and the door, which opened in-wards, could not be opened against that pressure. They choked to death before they’d even left the ground, then burnt hideously leaving only charred wristwatches, bones and melted rubber. At that time it was very conceivable that the entire program would be halted. I have visited the exhibit, no, the shrine where their watches are kept. Their names were Grissom, White and Chaffee.

Somehow they persevered, and three people were brave enough to get in the Apollo 11 capsule, take it out of the free return orbit and then climb in a landing craft made partly of tinfoil, land on another world and… do a photo-op? Plant a flag? do geology?

Like, it’s easy to forget that, as far as the people funding and fighting for this program were concerned, this was colonial, geopolitical dickwagging. This was to show the Soviets who was the goddamned alpha male of the world. James Webb, for all his flaws, had to fight for the science to even be considered, to even get funding allocated for it, and that only by his feverish efforts to convince the president (another catholic moderate democrat, at that time) that the science was necessary to make the mission safe. The president did not care, he wanted the colors of the Yankees to be planted on the moon, and he wanted it to be ideally before the People’s Flag of the Soviet Union was planted there by the Soyuz program. The science, he said, was incidental.

What does it say about us that the most incredible scientific achievement of our species was an exercise in symbolic colonialism; a proxy war alongside other more bloody proxy wars against the Soviets, in Korea and Viet Nam and later in Afghanistan; a show of force that proved nothing but that we had money to throw away and men willing to give their lives for our cause.

But the science was there. While in chains, science prevailed. Humanity’s knowledge was materially advanced, despite Kennedy and Nixon doing their best to keep the dickwagging at the forefront. We learned so much from that period from the sixties to the nineties when space travel was actually funded. We can thank them for GPS and many other things.

And whatever we might think of their motives, you have to respect Armstrong, Aldrin and Collins. They got on that damned rocket knowing that it was like riding a motorcycle with no brakes on a freeway with hell on one side and hades on the other, and knowing that the best astronauts they knew had died when the same kind of ship decided to become an impromptu gas chamber. And they went to the moon, goddammit. That’s the kind of guts I wish I had.

And that flag, that it was all in service of? And the others like it, from the six successful lunar landings? The flag that it was so fucking important to plant in the regolith before the Soviets could?

They’ve all bleached to white, un-ruffled in a place where no wind blows, in a surrender to the cosmos. In the furthest outpost of humanity, America surrenders.

I think that’s beautiful.

[johannestevans]

watched Hope Springs (2012)

review on letterboxd

You know, Meryl Streep and Tommy Lee Jones have a great deal of chemistry here and they both play such believable characters, and like… On a purely interpersonal level, this is a story about a couple who learn to seek out intimacy with one another again, who begin the process of communicating with one another, after years of letting that work fall by the wayside, after losing the thread of intimacy with one another.

Of course, it's fucking impossible to watch a movie like this purely interpersonally. These are straight people in a straight marriage. Much of their situation comes from the intentional isolation that cishetero patriarchy creates in couples like this in an individualistic society, especially older couples.

There's a moment where Meryl Streep's character is discussing with their therapist going, "[My husband] is everything. He's everything. But I'm so lonely. And I can't help but feel I'd be less lonely alone." and she's entirely correct in saying that - Tommy Lee Jones does not echo the same sentiment, only that he doesn't want to be alone, doesn't want to split up.

Because she's a woman and he's a man, and so much of her expected identity is in being a mother and most particularly a wife, she does not have the same social opportunities or abilities that he does to escape a marriage without judgement, or to explore different and new connections.

Like, this movie is so bleak in places because the decision was made to run with a very limited cast, but in making that choice and not at least mentioning or referencing other friends or community, it comes off in-universe that these two have 0 friends or people around them except for their coworkers, their son, his wife, and grandchild, and Steve Carrell, their new therapist. That's fucking haunting.

There's other stuff to be discussed here, like… Notably, I think, how Meryl Streep's character is concerned about being reduced to a sex object, and at no point does this film dig into the nitty-gritty of WHY these two characters feel the way that they do about sex and about each other - why didn't they communicate in the first place? Why is frank and candid discussion about sex so hard? Why do they fear the ways in which they desire each other and are desired by each other? When the domestic and emotional labour is split in the way it is in this household, how can they explore sex on an equal playing field? Why are they so isolated from other people?

Because to do so would be to address the underpinnings of the cold societal rules they feel forced to adhere to.

Like, this movie is really trying so hard to be sweet and nice and isn't this wholesome, and it's just like… Yeah, it's great that they're fucking again and that they're a bit happier on the surface, but ultimately their relationship is still so unequal, and one side of the partnership is far more vulnerable than the other side, because those power dynamics continue to go unaddressed or even recognised.

Some cishet movies are rife with cishetero ideology, and this one is particularly sad because like… It comes off as utterly clueless rather than intentional, and somehow that's worse and more tragic.

[neon-junkie]

I’m posting a few thoughts and feelings here about my abuser, and the healing process.

It’s a slow process, far slower than I thought it’d be. Even now, 3 years free of him, I’m still healing. I have days when I feel incredible, where I feel fully healed and ready to take on another relationship. And then there are days when even the thought of someone having an interest in me can break me down to tears.

The first year was nothing but fear. I barely socialised. Thankfully, that year was spent during lockdown, and I honestly loved spending that time alone. I had all the time and space to heal, however I needed, whenever I needed. I spent that time watching films, gaming, crying, reorganising my living space; I did anything and everything to erase my abusers fingerprints from my apartment - my safe space.

Now, whilst I do feel ‘healed’ most of the time, I have moments where I see him. It’s weird, like a flashback, but in the moment. I could have a random person, a coworker, a friend, say or do something that was similar to what he would do, and in that moment, I’ll see him. My coworker once said a phrase that he often used, and I could picture him there, right in front of me, saying that crap to my face.

I know not everybody will agree with this, but out of all the healing methods that I’ve tried, spite has done the most to help me. It’s okay to hate someone, to loathe them, to despise them. Again, not everybody will agree with this, but I wish death on my abuser. How could you spend years on end abusing, harassing, manipulating someone, and expect to get off scot-free? Why is it acceptable for him to almost push me to the brink of suicide, but I can’t simply say “I wish that guy would drop dead”?

Spite has fuelled me. Spite is the thing that helps me heal. My abuser took everything from me, he broke me down until I was nothing but an empty void - no personality, no feelings, no interests, just a shell - and I have chosen to put myself back together, purely through spite.

I hope he loathes that I’m still here, existing, rebuilding, thriving without him. My grudge against him, my anger, my hatred, will be taken to the grave with me. I will never forgive him for the years of torture that he dumped on me, and why should I? I understand that some people do forgive those who wronged them, but people also need to understand that it’s okay NOT to do that. It’s okay to say, “no, fuck you. You did so much shit to me, and I’m never going to forgive you for it!”

Forgiveness is not a key for everyone. It’s not always going to take the weight off your shoulders, or heal the crack in your heart. For some people, it might make things worse. It’s best to do what YOU want. I remember doing a lot of digging on how to heal from an abusive relationship, and so many people suggested forgiveness. To this day, the thought makes me sick. If you can forgive your abuser, that’s fine! But I can’t. I won’t. I don’t want to.

Another thing that’s really helped me is removing every single part of him from my life. And I don’t just mean deleting photos of us, we’re talking everything.

I have gone through my entire apartment, over and over, and removed every item that reminds me of him. Sure, I’ve had to remove a lot of nice items, but that’s because there are too many negative emotions tied in with them.

Some of my clothes, for example, are gorgeous, but as nice as they are, every time I even look at them, all I can think about is abusive memories from when I was wearing them. I wore a gorgeous dress for my 20th birthday, and I had to scrap that because that’s the night he first made me break down into tears, on my own fucking birthday! Another pair of heels I had to scrap because I struggled to run in them when I was trying to catch up to him after he stormed away from me over nothing. Stupid shit. STUPID, abusive shit, and I’m having to get rid of nice items because of his crap.

But not all is lost. I’ve taken this opportunity to rebuild my wardrobe, to pick things out that I know he’d hate, but I’ve always loved. I remember when I was getting ready for my 21st birthday, and I picked out a very skimpy dress. I was SO nervous (but excited) to wear it, and as soon as I showed him, his face dropped, and he said something along the lines of, “you’re really going out in that? you look like a cheap and desperate whore.”

So, I got changed into a turtleneck dress with long sleeves, and all he said to that was “much better.” I actually liked that dress too, but I also had to scrap that because of the memories attached to it.

And now I can dress however the fuck I want!! I love being revealing. Why would I not flex the body I was born with? I love (most of) myself, and my body confidence has especially grown over the years. Fuck, I deserve to look good, to dress good, to be happy in my own skin!!!!

I am totally rambling now, and hey, I deserve to. It’s been 3 years, three fucking years without that shitbag, and I will only continue to grow and heal. I refuse to take a step back. I refuse to fall back into his little traps. Through spite, I will flourish. I WILL come out on top of this, and one day, I’ll look into where he is, and I’ll thrive in knowing that he’s suffering. Karma comes to all, it balances everything out; whilst he is enjoying life right now, the scales will tip in my favour, and he’ll end up sad and miserable. All his years of being a piece of shit will come back to bite him in the ass, and I can’t wait to sit back and enjoy the show!

[rookie-critic]

Women Talking (2022, dir. Sarah Polley) - review by Rookie-Critic

Women Talking is a tour de force of acting power, sometimes so much so that it ends up hindering the movie slightly, just slightly. This film is basically a vehicle for its ensemble cast to turn their acting dials up to 11 and push the film's message, full force, out of theater screen and into your brain. It really, at times, feels more like you're watching a TED Talk than a outright film, with grand sweeping monologues by every major character accounting for a majority of the film's runtime. That's not to say there isn't an overarching plot, because there definitely is, but the film doesn't really concern itself too much with story, that's not the point, that's not why we're here. Really, Women Talking, through its cast, is a vessel for Sarah Polley's societal message about the way we treat women in our society. The film is about a secluded religious village that feels very "old world," and much of what is happening to the women of this colony feels, purposefully and regretfully, familiar to the modern day (there might be a little more to that than initially meets the eye), and Polley's flair for the theatrical causes the film to lean into that analogy in an almost literal sense. Again, this can't be stated enough, this movie is its message, and there are a lot of times when a character (or the actress, rather) might as well look and speak directly at the camera. This isn't something that's a particularly bad or good quality of the film, and if you're down with what Polley is presenting you will most likely find it very moving, I know I did, but I also understand that mileage with this kind of presentation varies with people regardless of their societal leanings. I would also like to take a brief moment and mention and applaud the film for its representation of a trans character, played in understated elegance by August Winter. They don't have a very large role in the film and there is a small aspect of it that feels a little tacked on, but their character is a wonderful addition to the film nonetheless, no matter how small.

Let's rewind a little to talk about the film's major strength: the acting. I really can't heap enough praise onto every single member of this film's cast. They're all given their moment to shine and they all absolutely run with it to the point where you can't really say that one steals the show over the others. It's a true ensemble, through and through, and the actresses lift each other up, bouncing off of each other with every passing line of dialogue, which really, if you'll pardon the repeat turn of phrase, leans into the film's central idea. Even Ben Whishaw, who serves as the film's lone adult male character, is mostly just there as support for our central women. He has his own arc and beautiful moments of pure acting prowess like the rest of them, but this never at the expense of the women or taking away from their time or moments. It all revolves back around to them, their issue, and why they're having the meeting at the film's center in the first place. Now, not to contradict my previous statement, but even though this is an ensemble where everyone is truly on even footing, you can still pick your favorites. I, personally, would like to give special shout outs to Claire Foy and Judith Ivey, whose characters were the ones I made the deepest connection with in the film (which feels a little disingenuous to say, given the subject matter and my place in its discussion). Sheila McCarthy, who I mainly know as Agnes from The Umbrella Academy's first season, and Michelle McLeod also give incredible performance, and really prove themselves amongst all of the bigger-named (in America, at least, in McCarthy's case) talent. The entire ensemble really takes a movie and a script that, in other hands, could have definitely felt more like a lecture-hall discussion, and made it a sorrowful, but hopeful and beautiful tale of the acquisition of freedom and a call-to-action for independence, free thought, and camaraderie amongst women. Mileage, as stated, may vary, but give this a watch, the acting alone is worth it.

Score: 9/10

Currently only in theaters.

[randomthefox]

It's funny how movie sonic was extremely overpowered in the first film and could cause continent wide chaos by pure accident. There's also the animated short where he casually runs around the entire planet in 80 seconds.

Then the later films completely ignored that because the studio realized too late how sonic's power level would have quickly outgrown the setting if they didn't reset him somehow

Now audiences are expected to just forget that movie sonic is at bare minimum an intercontinental threat in order for any of the new plots to work

In the first movie Sonic could casually freeze time at will, but they were already nerfing that and hoping you didn't remember it by the end of the movie. In the bar he froze time and everything was stopped in place, including the food that had been dropped suspended in mid air. But then at the end he freezes time including stopping the BULLETS AND MISSILES in mid air AND YET SOMEHOW Jimbotnik is able to move during that frozen time to press the red button. Meaning Jimbotnik can move his arm after than bullets???

These movies are fucking retarded. But yeah the 2nd Sonic movie desperately wants you to forget that Sonic can, literally at any moment and with no limitations, freeze time stopping everyone and everything in place with complete impunity.

If the movies were consistent with themselves, Sonic should be able to just freeze time and walk up to Shadow and slap handcuffs on him or stick him with a tranquilizer whenever he wants completely invalidating the need for a fight whatsoever. But these movies are retarded and they depend on the audience being even stupider than they are.

[hibewriter]

I Love You, Too

Masterlist Read It on AO3

Original Characters | 1.5K | E

CW: Office Sex, Unintentional exhibitionism, Cheating, Filming, Blow Jobs, references to PinV sex

He knew it was wrong to want her. Hell, he knew it was wrong to even be near her. She was the sun, she was the blue skies and summer weather. He was the moon, surrounded by stars but always alone in the darkness, simply waiting for her to come and destroy him every morning. 

They didn't always use to play this game. When they started working at the firm it was nothing but mutual respect. She would walk in, pencil skirt and blazer perfectly ironed and her hair pulled into an impossibly slicked and neat bun. He'd already be there, at his desk reviewing their agenda for the day. They both headed two interlinked departments. Her department created the art, his department sold it to the marketing haunches so they could keep the company running for another year. It wasn't like they were doing anything ground breaking. It was advertising. 

But then came that fateful night. They needed to stay late on a deadline for the next morning. So the office emptied, and they stayed. They ordered dinner, a glass or two of wine. He'd be lying if he'd said he hadn't thought about it before. Though often professional, her outfits always left him...imagining. Apparently she felt the same. When she kissed him he wasn't quite sure what was said to get them there. He couldn't quite remember when they'd gotten on his desk, or when their clothes disappeared into random piles on the floor. He did remember the bliss it was to slide inside her, like a glove that was made just for him. He remembered how beautiful she looked, moaning his name as his pumped his cock into her waiting pussy. 

He remembered stopping by the gym on the way home so he could shower off the smell of her. He remembered kissing his sleeping wife on the head that night, and pretending that their pitch in the morning really kept him out until midnight. He remembered not sleeping all night, thinking about her. 

Not like any of that mattered now. That night led to so many others. Eventually those nights turned into days. Those days...more difficult than the last. The office was on "optional office time". A ridiculous policy if you asked him. Pick and choose which days to come in, as long as your job could be done remotely. But he always came in. And so did she. Today, the entire office was just for the two of them. They actually worked in silence the entire morning, barely speaking a word besides a polite asking for coffee in the morning. The silence filled the office like air into a balloon, so full that he felt like they were going to burst. The ticking of the clock becoming his only relief for a time. 

He felt her hands on his shoulders around noon. He knew cause he was typing an email to their HR department about the annual benefits enrollment. He didn't look at her. He kept not looking at her as she effortlessly slid her hands down his broad chest, sinking to her knees behind him. His gaze locked into his screen as he felt her shift to be sitting at his side, before slightly pushing him away so she could get underneath his desk. 

He continued to type his email as her hand slid up his thighs. He reviewed every word as she swiftly undid his belt, freeing the only tell-tale sign that he had felt everything she was doing. In silence she took him into her mouth, expertly sucking him. He knew the devil was real because nothing pure came from a sin this good. Nothing but pure ecstasy. He couldn't keep his stoic composure, lightly beginning to thrust into her mouth from his seated position. She took it all. The words on his screen started to mean nothing but gibberish. So he pressed send, hoping it made sense as he pushed away from her mouth and his desk. He took her by her chin, bringing her up to his face. 

"You have a lot of nerve doing that," his voice sounded strained. Maybe it was silence of the past 5 hours. Maybe it was restraint from not ripping her clothes off of her the second she touched him. Whatever it was, she seemed unphased as she grinned with that mischievous glint in her eye. Leaning forward just to whisper in his ear, "well are you gonna punish me?" 

He grabbed her waist, spinning and laying her down over his lap. He pulled that damned pencil skirt over her sinful hips, noticing the lack of underwear she was wearing. She squirmed, her pelvic bone briefly touching his exposed erection. So he slapped her. The resounded whack echoed, reminding him of the empty space they were in. He tenderly ran his hand over her ass cheek, trying to soothe the already tender flesh. Before smacking the same area again. 

With each smack her hips moved back and forth on his lap. His wife never let him lay a hand on her like this. In fact, she would never let him hit her, then plunge two fingers deep into her soaking pussy, as it ached for something much bigger. She would never cry out in pleasure from his rough assault of her pussy with only his fingers. Never pull her hair down as he found her clit, rocking her hips to his movements, chasing that sweet release only he could give her. 

No, instead he found that with his coworker as she let out a high pitched moan, her pussy clenching his fingers as she came in his lap, still moving her hips to a rhythm he'd stopped, effectively fucking herself on his fingers to get every drop of the high he just brought her to. But he wasn't done. And she knew that. 

When she stopped shaking, she shifted, standing briefly before straddling him in his chair. They didn't kiss, that felt like crossing one more line, neither of them were willing to do. But she looked into his eyes as she sank onto his clock. She held that contact as she wordlessly began to ride him, his arms finding their way to help hold her position. The way she fucked him, like his own personal whore right then. As she rode him as if it would be the last thing she ever did. His hips moved on their own accord, upward thrust meeting her downward motions, the resulting smacking sounds filling the tiny space, followed closely by his grunts and her moans. 

He wanted to feel her coming on his clock, needed her milking him for all it was worth. So he reached around, finding her clit and massaging those circles into it. She was close, he knew she was close. She didn't have to say it anymore, they'd done this so many times he could hear it in her tone. When she did come, he knew. He knew from the way she leaned back, her chest heaving in the air as her body went tight, leaving his jagged upward thrust the only thing keeping their momentum going as he viciously chased his own high, cumming inside her like always. 

They rested for a few moments, before she slipped off his lap, rightening her skirt and shirt before crossing their shared space to her desk. He watched her fix herself, before grabbing himself a couple of kleenex to wipe off the evidence and tuck himself back into his clothes. Finally looking over to check his phone. 

1 missed call from his wife. 

Only a minute or two ago, so it'd work out. He hesitated, debating if he could pretend like he didn't just fuck someone else while on the phone with the woman he said he'd cherish forever. He decided he could.

"Hey honey…" He said into the receiver, watching as the woman he'd just fucked silently exited the room. 

"Hey love" came his wife's soft voice. "Did you already eat lunch? I was going to bring you something." He frowned, glancing at the clock. 

"No, I already ordered in, I'll see you after work." He confidently lied, turning to his computer to find a nearby delivery. What he didn't see, or rather didn't know, was the cameras recently placed in the office by upper management. Or the live feed that went directly back to the main security desk in the lobby. Or that his wife was already there.

 In fact, she'd been downstairs, talking to the reception manager. They'd gotten on so well, he even let her see what was on his screens. She blankly stared at the man she thought she knew. She watched him fuck the living daylights out of that girl, and cool as a whip pretend everything was okay. 

"Oh no bother then," She said wistfully, lightly running a thumb over his image on the screen. "I love you sweetie" 

And she watched as he hesitated. Watches as he stared at the picture of them on his desk. As he frowned, and said the words she knew he couldn't possibly mean. "I love you too."

[morenaclavery]

The Wild Girl and the Truth Untold | one shot

• crossover with The Wild Girl / The Secret Gospel of Mary Magdalene, by Michèle Roberts Summary: Domitilla Flores is a historian whose research is focused on ancient manuscripts. Her recent investigation revolves around Bible Gospels — most precisely, the supposed existence of Mary Magdalene’s Gospel — and women’s participation in primitive Christianity. Her research put her in contact with Professor Robert Langdon, a famous symbologist, and, consequently, with Sophie Neveu, a cryptologist who is intimately connected to Mary Magdalene’s story. Pairing: Jesus x Mary Magdalene (mentioned) Word count: 1,9k Content warnings: none Author’s note: This fanfiction was written in 2022 as a final evaluation for my English Literature III class in the Letters Teaching Degree at Federal University of Rio Grande do Sul, in Brazil. Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. Therefore, all names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is purely coincidental. Warning: Plagiarism is a crime! Any reproduction, whether partial or complete, is prohibited without the author’s prior authorization. The characters and the universe hereby presented belong to Dan Brown, Michèle Roberts and the producers of the film’s adaptation; however, Domitilla Flores is a creation of mine, and the story plot is of original content and protected by copyright.

» NAVIGATION | MASTERLIST

Rosslyn Chapel, Roslin (Scotland) – 10:15 pm

It has been a few hours since the sun has set in the west and the sky was taken by a deep, dark blue that was sprinkled by sparse, glowing stars and a barely seen new moon. There was a soft breeze in the air, although it was freezing cold that night. Hidden under a warm coat and a hood that covered her face almost entirely, Domitilla Flores walked with tense but firm steps toward one of the most known chapels of Edinburgh. The Rosslyn Chapel had appeared in some of her research papers, but nothing convinced her about its true relevance until that meeting with Professor Langdon a couple of weeks ago. That had changed everything and gave her new hopes.

‘Are you sure that’s the place where I’ll find the answers I’m looking for?’ Domitilla asked Professor Langdon as she took a sip of her tea. He had been adamant that their confabulation must occur in person and decided on a small café close to Harvard University, where he teaches History of Art and Symbology. According to him, she was messing up with an ancient story that many would kill to keep in the shadows. At first, she took it as a jest, but believed in its seriousness as he told her about a case he assisted in France, where he found himself running away from attacks by the Opus Dei.

‘Yes. I already reached out for Sophie Neveu and she agreed to help you. She’s a cryptologist and is very interested in your research.’ Robert replied casually and Domitilla frowned.

‘What do you mean by that?’

‘It will be better if she explains that herself. You can trust her.’ Even with Professor Langdon’s voucher, she was suspicious of this mystery woman, but decided to trust her colleague and accepted the card he offered her with Neveu’s contact information.

And that is how she found herself in a different country, climbing the stone steps of that historic chapel in the middle of a cold night. As she knocked on the wooden door, it was just a moment until a female face greeted her. ‘Domitilla Flores?’ At her affirmative nod, she was prompted to quickly enter the sacred building.

‘I must confess that I was quite anxious for your arrival ever since Robert called me about your research! I’m Sophie Neveu, by the way.’ Domitilla noticed the first-name basis, but did not comment on that.

‘I could say the same’, she replied a little unsure. ‘Professor Langdon said you’re interested in my research, but I failed to understand it… people usually find it a heresy, not an excitement.’

‘Oh, I’m sure Robert was quite cryptic when talking about me!’ Sophie replied with a smile. ‘He’s into the secret now, but you’ll get it when you see it first-hand. Let’s get into the library and I’ll explain everything to you.’

They walked in silence along the stone path, softly illuminated by the decorated stained-glass on the high windows and the spare lamps that resembled ancient torches, until they reached a door hidden behind the altar.

‘Really?!’ Domitilla expressed her suspicious in a whisper-shout. ‘The library is behind the altar? Through a door that no one can normally see?’

‘Shh… be quiet!’ It was Sophie’s answer. ‘Just trust and follow me.’

And so she followed the cryptologist down a circular stair of stones into the underground of the chapel. The pathway was narrow and irregular, until they reached a small hallway illuminated by the same exquisite lamp-torches. Right in front of the stairs was a wooden door — it seemed old, but incredibly sturdy at the same time. Sophie used five large keys to unlock it. With a smug smile on her face, she prompted Domitilla to enter first, which she did with a raised eyebrow.

The chamber inside was not large, but it was not small, either. The walls were made of shelves in which were placed books and an incredible number of rolls — which Domitilla soon discovered them to be parchments and papyri. In the centre, there was a wooden table stacked with old papers and books. The room as a whole smelled old and, as a historian, Domitilla could not have been happier.

‘Welcome to the secret library of the Priori of Sion’, said Sophie with pride in her voice.

Domitilla, who was admiring the underground room, was taken by surprise. ‘What?! Do you mean… the Priori of Sion? How do you have access to it? And how am I allowed down here?’

The Priori of Sion is an ancient organization that had been keeping the secrets regarding the Holy Grail. Domitilla Flores came upon that name through her research but could never find anything concrete about them. Just rumours and a great amount of mystery. Her shock at been standing inside their most precious archive was quite understandable.

‘Well… my brother would certainly disapprove of this,’ Sophie started to explain, ‘but you’re allowed in here because currently I’m the safeguard of the library. As I’m sure you’ll find out very soon, I’m deeply related to the Priori of Sion’s mission, and — therefore — very interested in your findings and its publication.’

‘I’m quite confused, now… shouldn’t you be keeping all of this in secret, then?’ Domitilla asked.

‘Until this very moment, all of this has been kept hidden away in secret and it almost got Robert and I killed. I think it’s time for the world to know the truth untold by the Church.’ Walking around the table, Sophie pointed towards two blocks of paper. ‘Look at these. I’m sure it will spark your interest.’

Coming to a stop beside Sophie, Domitilla took one of the books in her hands and shifted through its pages carefully, as it was ancient. Shouldn’t I be using some gloves for this? It was her immediate thought, but it vanished as soon as she noticed the title at the first page. ‘The Secret Gospel of Mary Magdalene?! Is this even true? Did she really write this?’

‘She did’, Sophie answered in a soft tone, full of admiration. ‘But, of course, Simon Peter founded his precious Church without including her witness in the official New Testament, which is quite a blasphemy. The irony of this!’ Sophie’s anger could be felt in the air and in her voice. ‘In the other one you’ll find her late diary — her memories and experiences after the death of Jesus, most precisely. And the start of the Priori, although it was named only years later.’

‘This is incredible!’ Domitilla was fascinated by Mary Magdalene’s writings and all the repercussions that would come with their revelation. ‘Are you sure I can use these on my research?’

‘Yes, please! It’s a great burden to guard all of this in secret’, Sophie said as she gestured around the library. ‘Just don’t reveal any recent names… as bold as I am to release all this knowledge to the world, I’m still not ready to die’, she continued cryptically. ‘And I’m certain that there are still some other secret organizations ready to finish my lineage.’

‘Your lineage?’ Domitilla asked, confused for a second. ‘Oh. My. God! You’re a descendant from Mary Magdalene?! And from Jesus?!’ She was amazed by that discovery and felt very honoured now that she knew the truth. ‘Wow… don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. Well, part of it, at least!’

Domitilla sat on the chair by the table and rummaged through the ancient pages, taking notes in her small notebook and taking pictures of important passages with her cell phone. She even found a well-kept family tree — it started with the names of Jesus and Mary Magdalene, followed by their only child, Deborah, passing through the Merovingian kings, until they stopped with the names of Sophie Neveu and her brother.

Throughout the next hours, Sophie helped Domitilla to gather all the necessary information needed for her academic work, even though she made sure to welcome her into the library another time, if needed.

It was breaking dawn when Domitilla finally left the Rosslyn Chapel.

The Original Rosslyn Inn, Roslin (Scotland) – 3:27 pm

After a warm shower, a snack, and a few hours of sleep, Domitilla Flores finally sat in front of her laptop to transfer her data to a secure platform and start putting her research findings into an organized and readable text. As promised, she left Sophie and her close family members’ names out of her paper, but mentioned Deborah, which was Jesus and Mary Magdalene’s only daughter, and a few more people that she found important to the story. Even though there was an entire chapter to the story of Mary Magdalene and her relationship with Jesus, which culminated in the creation of the Priori of Sion, there was also a chapter regarding the changes Simon Peter did to the Church. As Mary Magdalene’s witness — and disregarded gospel — could prove, there was a wish from Jesus to include women actively into the faith, something that was erased from the New Testament Scriptures and the Church as we know it when Simon Peter took the lead after the Lord’s sacrifice.

In the following weeks, Domitilla travelled to France, where she decided to finish her manuscript and take pictures of a few landscapes that could be incorporated in her publication, since her research mentioned Mary Magdalene’s journey to the country. One particularly image that she added was the front of the Musée du Louvre, focusing on the giant pyramid — it was a secret allusion to the inverted one and what lies underneath: the tomb of Mary Magdalene.

Carrousel du Louvre, Paris (France) – 6:45 pm

Six weeks had passed since Domitilla Flores met Sophie Neveu, and the final version of the manuscript was completed, at last. The historian was careful enough to erase any data from her cell phone and laptop, leaving the research in a safe and cryptographed platform. There were a few copies that she sent to Sophie and to Robert Langdon, just to be sure that it would not be misplaced. It was rightfully named as The Wild Girl and the Truth Untold.

Feeling like her purpose was accomplished, Domitilla left the hotel for one last walk through Paris, which led her towards the Carrousel du Louvre, an underground shopping mall where the inverted glass pyramid could be found. It was near to the closing time, so there were few people around the lobby, which made it easier for the historian to kneel before the small stone pyramid situated right below the inverted one.

‘Thank you’, she said in a soft tone so nobody else could hear her words. ‘You fought for us in your time, even though no one would listen to your pleas. But now the world will finally be aware of your story — your true story.’

With a final measure, Domitilla concluded her visit to Mary Magdalene’s secret tomb and left the small shopping mall. Her heels echoed on the floor at every confident step, resounding the certainty that she had done what was right in memory of Mary Magdalene and for all women out there around the globe.

As she walked down the streets of Paris, admiring the view one last time before going to the airport to travel back to the United States of America, she did not notice the mysterious figure that silently followed her steps, all cladded in black.

•

Hello, friends! 💖 I hope you liked this story as much as I did in writing it, as it is about a theme that I do not usually write — or even read — about. It was, however, quite interesting and fun to mix these two fandoms! Please, let me know all your thoughts about it! Acknowledgements: A very grateful thanks to my English Literature III Professor, for giving me the opportunity to read texts that I usually wouldn’t choose for myself. I really loved to read them! And a warm thanks to you, who took the time to read my story.

[kevinsreviewcatalogue]

Review: The Funhouse (1981)

The Funhouse (1981)

Rated R

<Originally posted at https://kevinsreviewcatalogue.blogspot.com/2023/10/review-funhouse-1981.html>

Score: 2 out of 5

Where classic slashers from the genre's golden age are concerned, The Funhouse stands out as a serious disappointment. It had Tobe Hooper returning to the slasher genre seven years after The Texas Chain Saw Massacre, it boasted a carnival setting that promised some thrills and chills, and the killers were legitimately compelling in ways you don't normally get from slasher villains, so the parts were there for a great movie. What went wrong? A lot, if I'm being honest, but the biggest problems start with the characters and the pacing, which are both terminal. Throughout the film, I was constantly annoyed by the group of four teenage friends who served as this movie's focal point, and waiting for them to finally get killed. I'll give the film points for trying to develop its main characters and present a portrait of backwoods, trailer-trash Americana on the skids in the form of the sleazy carnival they go to, but when the people you're supposed to be rooting for are either loathsome or one-dimensional in such a manner that the Eight Deadly Words ("I don't care what happens to these people") have kicked in about twenty minutes into the film, all of that goes to waste. Both of the guys are sleazy horndogs, the "hot" girl of the group is a vapid airhead, and the heroine is one of the flattest, most boring, and most useless final girls I've ever seen in a horror movie, somebody who survives almost by pure luck with how many stupid mistakes she makes during the last act as she tries to fight the killer.

Having such a terrible cast made it that much more insufferable how the film stretched the obligatory twenty minutes of first-act character development into roughly half the movie. Until the main characters enter the titular funhouse, there are barely any horror elements in this film barring a fake-out opening parodying Psycho, and the first kill happens around the 45-minute mark. This meant that half the movie was spent watching these jackasses run around a carnival acting like jackasses and doing nothing to endear themselves to me, all while I was constantly checking the runtime wondering when they were finally gonna get hacked to pieces. What's more, there's an entire subplot involving the heroine's little brother that contributes absolutely nothing, feeling like it was there solely to pad the runtime without any payoff. The kid is briefly in danger at one point, but any tension fizzles out soon after as that is quickly resolved. The intent of the subplot felt like it was to give the protagonists hope for a rescue only to snatch it away, but again, I cared nothing about their fate, and consequently wound up more interested in the kid's own peril instead, a subplot that ultimately didn't go anywhere. In a film with better-written protagonists, spending that much time developing them so we come to care more about their deaths would've been a laudable creative decision. Here, however, it meant that the film simply dragged.

The worst part is, there were moments when a much better film was peeking through here, moments that were themselves connected to its characters -- specifically, the killers. The clown with the axe on the poster never shows up in the film, but fortunately, we do get a pair of very interesting villains, a father-and-son duo who run the titular carnival dark ride. The son is a malformed, mentally disabled freak whose father employs him as a worker on the ride while wearing a mask to cover up his hideous face, and who has a habit of killing locals in the towns the carnival travels through, with the father covering up the murders and growing increasingly frustrated having to raise him. These two could've made for the villain-protagonists of a much better movie, one about the two of them traveling with the carnival and working with all the other colorful characters who are part of it (who are all far more interesting than our actual main characters from what we see of them), all while a trail of corpses follows them with each new town they visit. Rick Baker's effects work made for a very scary-looking monster, while Kevin Conway was by far the best actor in the movie as the killer's undeniably evil yet multilayered father.

The Bottom Line

Rob Zombie should remake this movie. No, seriously. His sensibilities line up perfectly with the mood this film was trying to go for, and he'd likely avoid a lot of its worst pitfalls. As it stands, though, Hell Fest is a better version of this movie, which just has too many problems with its boring characters and sluggish pacing for me to recommend it to anyone other than the most diehard '80s slasher aficionados.

[dghorrorremakes]

House of Wax (2005)

Chad and Carey Hayes, the writers of The Conjuring, helped to create a dark and sinister update to Vincent Price Chiller’s original film from 1953. Coming out in the early 2000’s, House of Wax encapsulates everything expected in what was, at the time, the peak era of horror film remakes. The new, revitalized version of the film features numerous scenes entailing sexual activities and, at times, excess amounts of gore and terror. 

House of Wax follows a group of college kids, some dating and some related, who are on their way, via road trip, to scalp tickets for a much-anticipated college football game less than 24 hours before kickoff. While traveling, the group decides to camp out in an isolated part of the woods for the night, where they would get up the next day and finish their trip to the stadium. However, after some suspicious incidents throughout the night, they awake to a broken-down car in the morning that had been tampered with. When asking for help by a nearby resident, the group is brought to a small town off the grid, where they look for parts to get back on the road. Through pure terror, the group soon finds out that everything is not what it seems, as the entire town is built of wax, and is essentially a decoy to lure in young adults such as themselves and kill them to use as wax props for the town of wax. As the movie unfolds, various characters fight for survival in hopes of escaping the town, and the world-famous house of wax. 

From slow motion and calculated shots of aspects of the setting such as the wax figures within the house, to nighttime scenes of several characters running for safety within the town of wax, these various film techniques, although simple in nature, help to create a sense of danger for the characters.

When the film came out in 2005, acclaimed film critic Roger Ebert claimed that the special effects paired with the set design was what made the movie both terrifying and compelling. He mentioned how, towards the end of the film, the house of wax literally melted. He also mentioned the importance of the special effects at times such as when one character gets “waxed alive” and is enclosed in a wax casing against his will. 

In Robin Alex McDonald and Dan Vena’s scholarly examination into the elements of the film, the two explore how the death scene of the villains towards the end of the film, helps to restore proper hierarchy into the plot. However, they also mention the fact that the film has no true sense of closure as it is revealed that there is one last relative to the villains left unharmed in the final moments of the film. This effectively helps to continuously create a sense of uneasiness in regard to the motion picture.