#stu(dying) FOR REAL

[chuuyrr]

calculus makes me wanna throw up ... tbh i find chemistry and physics way bearable (づ_ど)

[melrodrigo]

Tardy, part 8

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4 | part 5 | part 6 | part 7 | part 8 | part 9 | part 10 | part 11

Tara Carpenter x Fem!Reader

Summary: An unexpected family member reveal sends you spiraling, will anyone trust you now?

Warnings: Angst that turns into fluff, mention of violence, mention of sex

Word Count 2.6k

A/N: I was dying writing this chapter (both physically and mentally) but I think the writers block is gone! Thank you for 600 followers!! As always, love u guys, and tell me what you think <33

“Mom, who’s my dad?” You asked absentmindedly, legs swinging from your living room couch.

“All the other kids at school know who their dad is, who’s mine?” You continued, blissfully unaware of the tension you had just created.

Your mom turned sharply, cigarette between her lips as she spoke.

“Oh, sweetie. Your dad’s gone. It’s just you and me now.” She said as she brought the lighter up and ignited the cigarette.

“What do you mean he’s gone?” You’d asked, eyebrows furrowed.

Your mom lets out a frustrated huff before she answers again.

“I don’t know, he’s just gone. Okay? He left town. Would you leave this topic alone now?” She sounded annoyed, and you don’t want to upset her any further, so you nodded quickly and turned your attention back to the TV screen.

“Okay, Ma.”

-

You flash back into another memory, this time you’re older; freshly graduated from high school, ready to move across the country to start university.

You’ve bid your farewells to friends and relatives, promising you’ll come visit every year.

Your mom’s pulling you aside looking at you weirdly. She’s getting old, you can tell by the increasing wrinkles on her face every day.

She smiles softly, and you think she looks like the sweetest grandma ever.

“Honey, I want you to know something. About your dad.”

You raise an eyebrow, mouth dropping slightly.

Your dad has always been a touchy subject for your mom, she’s never really allowed herself to tell you the full story.

Sure, as you’ve gotten older, you’ve learned bits and pieces. He was a dirtbag, leaving your mom right after she gave birth. You’d also learned that you were born in a small town called Woodsboro but had been whisked away almost immediately.

Your mom sighs now, and everything suddenly feels very heavy.

“I just tried so hard to be both parents for you, I know it wasn’t fair to keep this from you for so long. But if you’re ready to learn who your dad is, I’m ready to tell.” She says, voice cracking only the tiniest bit. You can see how strong she’s trying to be.

You suddenly see your whole childhood flash before your eyes. Your mom sending you off and picking you up every day after school. Making meals for the two of you every night, working overtime to support the family.

“No Ma. It’s okay. I already have a dad, and his name is you.” You say, pointing to her heart.

She opens her mouth but you cut in before she can say anything.

“No, I don’t want to hear it. I don’t need a dad when I have you.” You say, and you mean it wholeheartedly.

Your mother swells with happiness and takes you in a big hug. Wraps her arms around your shoulders.

“Be safe, honey.” She whispers into your ear.

-

You splutter, staring at the page in front of you with a jumble of letters that don’t look like coherent words anymore.

No…it couldn’t be?

There’s no way your dad was Stu Fucking Macher.

It doesn’t feel like you expected it would, finding out who your real father is. Years and years of endless crying; wondering why and why and why.

Every moment has led up to this.

This light, breakable paper in your palms. It’s telling you all you’ve ever wanted to hear, and yet somehow it’s also the thing you need to hear the least.

There’s quick flashes of déjà vu as you stare at the name.

Blood; lots of it. Splattered on the ceiling, all over your body. Screams, loud and clear as day, piercing through your eardrums and starting a ringing sound.

You snap back into reality as Sam steps up to you.

You brace yourself for the worse, you wouldn’t be mad if Sam kicked you out bare into the street right then and there, hell, she could hurt you and you wouldn’t even be mad.

She raises her hand but the impact never comes. Instead, she kneels down to you and holds your shoulders tight.

“It’s okay. I know it’s hard.” She says, soft. Her lips are pulled into a frown but her eyes are sorrowful.

“It’s- it’s okay?” Tara splutters, staring between you and her sister. Flabbergasted would be a minuet way to describe her expression.

“Yes. It’s okay. Can everyone leave the room for a minute? I want to talk to YN.” Sam says, and everyone heeds her orders; shuffling down through the living room hallway.

You stare at Sam, eyebrows knit tight together. She’s hated you since you the day you met, and now she’s the one protecting you?

“Why?” You ask, curiosity seeping through your voice.

“Everyone here has been through something.” She says, biting her lip. “And believe me, if anyone knows about being framed as the bad guy, it’s me.”

She hesitates a little before she opens her mouth again.

“Let’s not pretend that everyone here doesn’t have immensely traumatic things happen to them. Me and Tara…well we know about that. But Mindy and Anika and Chad? You wouldn’t believe the stories I’ve heard from them.” She says, twiddling with her thumbs.

“What if I’m actually the killer?” You press, gauging Sam’s reaction.

She tuts and answers sharply.

“I don’t believe for a second that you are.”

It takes you aback, her being so sure about it. You stay quiet, try to think of anything to say.

You can’t, it’s all too much information to get.

“How can you know that?” You say finally, tilting your head up to make eye contact with Sam.

She pats your back lightly. “You’re a good person YN. We can all tell.”

“We’re a family. One fucked up family, but family all the same. Including you.” She says, voice sure.

You hold eye contact for a while, a silent conversation being spoken. Setting aside all your differences, Sam was actually a really cool person. And you can tell she feels the same way.

Before you know it she’s out down the same hallway the group left in.

You’re sat on the couch, mouth open and eyes glazed.

Huh.

“YN? Mind if I come in?” Tara’s voice sounds from in front of you. You can’t decipher what the tone is.

“Yeah…yeah of course.” You answer, watching as Tara enters and stands before you.

You can’t handle her intense stare, and you drop your head immediately. Anxiety floods you, heart picking up speed.

You don’t notice her until she’s right in front of you, taking your cheeks in her hands. Stroking, softly.

10 minutes ago she was mad, and now she’s comforting you? This girl and her mixed signals.

“I believe you.” She murmurs, leaning down to press her lips on your cheek. She’s so short that even when you’re sitting down you’re almost the same height.

You don’t want to think about any of this now, you don’t want to think about it ever. You want to tell Tara this, but you can’t bring yourself to speak.

Your throat feels dry, eyes slightly teary.

“So what do we do now?” You whisper.

She continues stroking your face fondly, cradles you in her arms.

“We continue with the plan.” She says, and there’s a sense of finality in it that makes you shiver.

-

They’ve pushed back the date on their plan to capture Ghostface a little bit. Tara won’t admit it, but you know she’s the one who suggested it. She must think you need time to process the sudden father reveal, no doubt.

It’s sweet, but she’s wrong. In fact, right now all you need is a distraction. Something to take your mind off all the racing thoughts through your head, the sense of betrayal you feel.

Maybe I should call my mom.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking bout?” A voice sounds from behind you. It’s Anika, and you send her a soft smile; feeling weirdly glad to be in her company.

“Oh nothing much. Just about how my dad was one of the original Ghostfaces and that we’re literally running straight into danger in a few days.” You say, trying to make your voice sound light and teasing.

Anika seems to pick up on the underlying message, and you hear her sigh a little before speaking.

She rounds the couch to come sit down beside you, a pack of medical supplies in her arms. She splays it across the table and turns back to face you.

“If it makes you feel any better, I know what it’s like to have a rough family. My parents were…dipshits to say the least.” She says, casually.

Oh.

You try and think of something appropriate to say in response, but your brain seizes up and it goes blank.

“But you don’t have to feel bad for me. I have a new family now.” She continues, smiling at you; genuine crinkles at the tips of her eyes. She pats your back lightly.

“Just so you know, I don’t think you’re the killer. Who cares if your dad is Ghostface? It’s not like this is the first time it’s happened in our friend group. I trust you, really.”

It’s enough to make you teary-eyed again. You look away, hoping she can’t see them.

“Thank you.” You mumble. “That means a lot to me.”

She chuckles warmly before taking you in a hug. You guys don’t say anything the rest of the time she fixes up your wound.

-

“Are you blushing?” Tara asks immediately when Anika leaves the room, footsteps light.

“What? No, I’m not.” You say, running a hand through your hair.

“Did she make you blush?” She’s asking, a teasing smile on her lips.

You frown.

“She just said some very nice things to me, okay?” You huff, cross your arms like a child.

“Aw, baby. You look adorable.” She murmurs, giving you a peck on the lips.

“Are you not jealous?” You ask, cocking an eyebrow at her.

She brings a finger to her lips and feigns thoughtfulness. Then she smiles wide and takes your lips in a searing kiss.

“No.” She mumbles against them. “Because I know you’re mine. And I can definitely make you do a lot more than blush.”

It’s enough to make you flush completely red. You let out a little whine at her words.

“See?” She’s asking as she leans back, a smirk on her lips. You try and wipe it off by wrapping your arms around her neck and pulling her in for another kiss.

She’s not wrong. But you’re not going to admit that. It’s a fatal flaw, really. How easily you relent when it comes to Tara. You’d die for her, you’d kill for her, and she knows it.

“Come on,” She’s whispering. “Let’s go to my room.”

You pull back, amused.

“I don’t think I can even stand and you’re asking me to do what?” You ask pointedly.

She tugs on your shirt, obviously not in the mood to play one of your games right now.

“Then maybe I’ll just take you right here.” She whispers into your ear, laughing as you shiver beneath her.

You gulp, stare at her with big eyes. She crawls forward, leaning her elbows into your sides on instinct.

You can’t help but wince.

It seems to break Tara out of her lustful haze, because now she’s looking at you with worried eyes.

She’s getting up kind of panicky, fiddling with her hands.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I should let you sleep.” She says, sort of fast, words tumbling out of her.

You smile at her, grip her hands tight.

“It’s okay, Tara. Although, I do want to hit the hay for a while. Care to join me?” You invite, tugging her closer slightly to make sure she doesn’t leave.

She grins shyly and nods.

“Okay.” She says, biting the inside of her cheek. She’s the cutest with the excitement that radiates off her.

-

When you wake, Tara’s not in your arms anymore. You stir, rubbing your eyes aggressively.

“Tara?” You groan, trying to look around the weirdly dim room for any sign of your girlfriend.

You notice the candles immediately, more than a dozen of them lining the table and making a little pathway to the fireplace.

Your girlfriend appears in front of you now, wearing a little white sundress; one you’d specifically bought for her weeks ago.

She looks so good, you almost start drooling. Like an angel, the way she’s standing and staring at you, playful, excited gaze.

“I was wondering when you were going to wake up.” She grins, bending down to press a kiss to your cheek.

“What is all this?” You question, looking around the room in further inspection.

There are two plates set up quite nicely on the dining table, along with a bottle of champagne and a single flower in the middle.

It’s all so, romantic.

Tara twirls, and gives you a little show of her dress. Then she takes your hand and gently helps you up, leading you to the dining room with her.

“I never got to take you on a date. I think it’s time I return the favor.” She says, nodding along to her sentence; like a reassurance.

“You’re adorable.“ You say, wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her close. She blushes a little.

“Thank you.” She mumbles.

The smell as you enter the dining room is mouth-watering. You recognize it immediately. It’s your favorite pasta, ravioli with white wine and tomatoes.

Tara’s an amazing cook, you know this already. But the flavors that explode in your mouth when you take a bite out of it are otherworldly.

“This is the best thing you’ve ever cooked.” You speak through stuffed cheeks, eyes wide and happy.

Tara picks up a piece of her own and eats it.

“I didn’t know what to make you, so I called your mom. She said this was your favorite, so I went on youtube and tried to replicate the recipe.” She says, somewhat shyly.

You beam.

“You called my mom?” You ask, teasingly. Boop her on the nose. You celebrate internally when you see her flush red.

“Yeah, it was no biggie. Just a phone call.” She disregards, biting her bottom lip to try and stop the color that’s overtaking her whole face.

She reaches forward to grab another piece of ravioli before she stops short and gasps.

“Oh! I almost forgot to give you these.” Tara says, reaching behind her chair for something. She pulls out a huge bouquet of flowers, filled with your favorites.

You don’t try and hide the surprise in your face, mouth open and gaping.

She slaps your arm lightly at your reaction.

“Hey! I can be romantic too you know.”

You nod sarcastically.

“Oh yeah no doubt no doubt.” You say, taking the bouquet from her hands in favor of bending over the table and kissing her.

“Thank you, baby.” You say against her lips. She smiles wide, scrunching her nose as she pulls back.

“You taste like pasta!” She’s giggling, pushing you back into your chair.

You finish the dinner in record time, and that’s due entirely to how good the meal was. You and Tara sit and talk for a little while before moving to the floor to watch a movie.

Tara’s annoyingly secretive about it, not letting you see whatever she’s setting up. You huff and go grab snacks from the fridge instead.

When you get back it’s to the TV covered, and there’s a small projector at the side shining light on a random bed sheet she’s hung vertically.

“Impressive speed.” You praise.

Tara’s sitting smugly, arms open and inviting you to come sit.

It’s playing 10 Things I Hate About You, one of your all-time favorite movies. You settle down into the spot next to her and sneak a glance over, but she’s already staring at you; hard.

You let out a breath of happiness and pull her closer by the waist. Kiss her on the forehead, murmur against her skin.

“Thank you for this. I needed it.”

She nods into you and pulls you impossibly closer.

“Of course.” She says.

You decide Ghostface can wait, your dad can wait. All that matters right now is Tara. Her and this movie and you.

The only three things that exist in the world.

[mehbzz]

Mother's Day

Poly!Ghostface Billy Loomis x F!Reader Stu Macher x F!Reader

18+ No real plot as usual, more like scenes out of a relationship. AU with Billy's mom having left earlier in his life. Yandere vibes, insecure/unstable Billy and Stu, insinuated violence/murder if you squint, oral sex, abusive relationships, misogyny, unsatisfying sex.

There's an itch crawling under Billy’s skin. A violent cold itch that had started with a panic filled awakening from a nightmare. A nightmare where he’d lost you. You’d just gone. Your house empty and void of anything even remotely connected to you. He knew what was triggering it. He knew even if he wouldn’t directly acknowledge it. It was dumb, childish. His father had called him stupid for getting upset over it more times than he could count growing up. It was a commercial holiday, nothing to act like a pansy over. You’re a man now, act like it. But the dread from the nightmare had persisted. Like a toothache he kept returning to it, poking it, prodding it, letting the fear grow and the thoughts spiral until he was dragging Stu out of bed at 9am in order to go check on you.

"She's working."

"I know." He snaps, he can’t take his eyes off you as you talk to a customer at the counter. He feels stupid if he’s honest, embarrassed, but the dark thoughts are winning out over logic.

"Sooo dial it back a bit," Stu pokes at a couple of VHS tapes in mild curiosity, glancing at him out the corner of his eye. "You look like you want to tear someone's head off."

“She's-,”

"Working."  Stu finishes for him. “We’ve been here for nearly half an hour dude, I’m dying of boredom.” It interrupts his spiralling thoughts to see Stu so nonchalant, puts a little pause in his almost crushing sense of insecurity.  Billy finally tears his gaze away from you to stare at him, and Stu returns his stare with a look Billy was tempted to call concerned.

"Something going on I should know about?"

"No." He hisses and Stu holds his hands up in surrender, taking half a step back.

"Alright man, only asking." 

He's aware of Stu hovering, the constant glances. Instead of feeling annoying and adding to his bad mood it feels kind of comforting. He watches as you say something to the girl that makes her laugh. There’s an uncomfortable knot of something vicious growing in his chest, he feels like he’s about to do something he’ll regret.  You’re here. He repeats it in his head like a mantra, trying to control the lingering fear that he’d woken up with in the middle of the night. You’re here, you’re not gone, not like-, you laugh and it distracts him, his attention focusing in on you once more. You’d obviously been on cleaning duty before being interrupted; you’re wearing an old worn tabard and have dirt smeared across your cheek.

“She looks cute. Domestic,” Stu murmurs over his shoulder. He flinches but he doesn't move away from the heat of Stu's hands on his hips. "Shame she’s being such a little flirt right now." Stu's hand moves a little lower skirting over Billy's stomach and teasing the zipper of his jeans. “Flirt?” He repeats. Were you actually flirting? Now Stu has mentioned it he can’t stop noticing the curve of your lips as you smile, the way you’re holding eye contact with her. Are you usually this chatty with your customers?

“Yeah, look at her,” Stu leans forward until his lips brush over his ear as he whispers. “maybe we should drag her home and remind her who she belongs to?"

This was a bad idea, letting Stu be so brazen with him in public but he couldn't find it in himself to care right at that moment. The girl leans against the counter, her fingers brushing your wrist as she takes her tapes. Can you really not tell she’s flirting with you? You’re so damn naïve sometimes. He feels a little flurry of anger at you, his jaw on the verge of breaking from the tension. He needs to distract himself, distract himself from Stu’s attempt at riling him up.   “Domestic?” He hates that his voice comes out strained rather than the teasing jab he was aiming for. He watches you talk and he’s hit with a strong desire to push his fingers against your jaw, to press his thumb inside your mouth and feel the way your tongue moves around the words. His hands drop to Stu’s and tug them gently away. He can’t deal with it; he feels exposed, like Stu is brushing over raw skin and nerves. “You really have a thing for the housewives don’t you?”

"I have a fantasy, sue me." Stu shrugs, obviously disappointed that Billy didn’t rise to his bait, taking a step away from him and returning his attention to the tapes in front of them.

An oddly tame fantasy for Stu, almost romantic even, it makes him wonder if Stu thinks about his future with you more often than he would ever admit. Billy doesn't think much about the future aside from the fact that you and Stu are in it. Is it something you think about? He can't imagine you being a housewife. Did you want to get married? Did you want kids? Did you even-

"Billy." Stu snaps his name, exasperation written all over his face. "Day for over thinking huh?"

He shrugs. "Didn't sleep well."

"Uh huh that’s kinda obvious." Stu is watching him closely, and he tries to school his face into his usual blank mask. It's difficult, always is around Stu, and he doesn't think it works from the way Stu shifts a little closer. 

"I uh-" Stu clears his throat, suddenly awkward, fidgety. "If you wanna talk about it-," He trails off, he isn't quite making eye contact and Billy is briefly distracted from Stu’s attempt at comforting him with the thought of how fucking cute it is to see him flounder. "We should go?”

It’s phrased as a question but Billy doesn’t think it really is one, and he doesn’t answer, his gaze trailing after the girl as she finally leaves, the sudden urge to do some violent making his fingers twitch. “Let’s leave bunny to do her job and go back to mine instead. You can tell me all the gross gory things you want to do to that chick while I pound you into the mattress."

Billy’s lips twitch with the barest hint of a smile. He's not in the mood for that, he thinks his skin would blister and split if he was touched right now but the-

"Or just the gory things is good too,” Stu’s voice drops to a whisper. “Easy enough to find out who she is."

He stops staring at you long enough to glance back at Stu, startled. It always takes him off guard when Stu does that, when he reads him so easily, especially when he feels like he’s hiding his thoughts pretty well. “Bunny’s not going anywhere Bill.” He says it so softly that Billy is not sure if he imagined it. “Let’s go.”

"I need to-, should say bye first."

"Don't think she knows we're here dude, we've kinda been lurking." Stu huffs, running a hand through his hair when Billy doesn’t move, giving a quick glance around the store. “You’re-, fine whatever, be quick.” You look startled as Billy approaches you, but you smile. A smile that's too bright and too happy and he fights the urge to snap at you for it. You're too obvious sometimes with your affection, even as his heart swells and he feels a little calmer at your obvious joy at seeing him.

“What’s up?” You follow him without question when he beckons you over, down an empty aisle until he can’t resist the temptation any longer and reaches out to grasp your wrist but the touch of you doesn’t ease his rising need for violence like it usually does. He’s spiralling out of control, he’s aware enough to know it but even as he tries to calm his racing heart it feels like he’s fighting a losing battle. He needs you to say something, to ground him but he doesn’t know how to ask, or even what he wants you to say.

“You’d never leave me, right?” he blurts, fingers tight around your wrist.

“I-, what?” You look so completely bewildered, it’s kind of adorable. “No, course not.”

He nods. You’re speaking, he’s watching your mouth move, probably asking him what’s wrong but he’s not listening, getting too lost in his thoughts. Sometimes it feels like his entire existence revolves around you and Stu. He doesn’t think you realise how much he needs you to survive. It was unhealthy, he’d been told so but he didn’t agree. His therapist had used words like overly-reliant and co-dependent and he’d learnt pretty quickly not to be honest about how he’d really been feeling. Not that he had to listen to their bullshit any more, as soon as his Dad had stopped asking him about his sessions he’d stopped going.

“I thought-,” He cuts himself off; he doesn’t know what he thought. Not really. It’s a whole jumbled mess in his head. You watch him quietly as he closes his eyes, emotions flicking over his face so quick you can’t follow them all. “I love you.” His free hand slides up your arm to hold you loosely by the nape of the neck, resting his forehead against yours as takes a deep breath. A little shiver of arousal down your spine as his thumb traces down the side of your neck before his palm slides gently around your throat. It takes you by surprise, a small whimper slipping past your lips and a smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth, his fingers flexing into the side of your throat.

“Bunny,” he whispers, leaning in to graze his lips over yours. “I-,”

 “Bunny! What an absolute surprise to see you here.” Stu appears behind him, throwing an arm over Billy’s shoulder and practically yanking him away from you. It takes you a second to remember where you are, blinking a few times before you focus on Stu.

“Hey. I- uh-,” you clear your throat awkwardly as you glance between the two of them. “You’re both up early.”

“Our moody boy here wanted breakfast,” Stu grins and you can’t help but return it, despite Billy’s offended glare. “Dragged me out of bed so early this morning. Didn’t even get chance to jerk off.”

“Okaayyy,” You draw the word out as you grimace, eyes closing briefly. “Gross Stu, I really didn’t need to know that.”

“But it’s a problem you can help me with. I’m backed up, achy –ow.” Stu whimpers as you smack him, a little too hard if his wince is anything to go by but he doesn’t retaliate.

“Well too bad I got to work,” You tug at the end of Billy’s shirt as you push him gently towards the door, hoping he doesn’t get upset at your attempt to steer them out. “Would have totally dropped to my knees right here and now.”

“Don’t encourage him.” Billy sighs and you stick your tongue out at his exasperated look.

“What? No, encourage me bunny,” Stu turns back to look at you, walking backwards as he grins. “Encourage away.”

Billy shakes his head and you relent. “Ok Ok, sorry. No encouraging while at work.” You raise your hands and Billy snorts.

“You two just-,” He shakes his head, lips twitching as he tries to resist the urge to smile.  “Idiots.”

“Charming. You said it yourself remember? We’re soulmates. You’ll join us in idiocy eventually, it’s inevitable.” You glance at Stu, his cheeks are faintly pink at your words but you know better than to mention it even though the satisfaction at taking him off guard with your affection never got old. “I finish at 1 today. You have plans?”

“Al-,”

“No,” Billy cuts him off quickly and to your surprise Stu doesn’t try and say anything else. “Come over?”

You nod, giving them a final gentle push toward the door. Billy’s reluctant to leave, you can tell, only taking the step through the door when Stu gives him a little jab in the ribs. Stu blows you a kiss as he follows, and you flip him off in return, a gesture that seems to have evolved into a sign of affection between the two of you and the way you two departed ways more often than not. He returns it, but not before he tugs the promo poster off the window as he goes.

“You’re a child.” You mouth and he cackles at your unimpressed look, shoving the door closed behind him quickly when you make a move towards him. You can hear him still laughing as you pick the poster up off the floor but you can’t find it in you to be genuinely annoyed by him, cursing at him half heartedly under your breath as you try to stick it back up.

The slow rhythmic creaking rock of the mattress wakes you. Its pretty light in Stu’s room, so it must be pretty early but it still takes you a minute to register what you’re seeing. Stu is laying next to you, a pillow between his thighs as he rock his hips down against it slowly. Oh. Your gaze flicks around the room in search of Billy but he’s nowhere to be seen, you swallow hard, eyes drawn back to Stu as he makes a quiet breathy sound in the back of his throat that turns into a whine. It’s hard to tear you gaze away from him and your thighs squeeze together in response as he rolls his hips faster. “Shit,” He breathes. “You like watching bunny?”

You’d been so focused on the rhythm of his hips that you hadn’t noticed his eyes open, his eyes fixated on you as he continues to grind against the pillow. You’re momentarily speechless and he huffs as he turns over on to his back, his cock resting heavily against his hip and you bite your tongue to stop the little noise that threatens to escape as you watch it twitch.

“Fuck,” He groans as he palms himself, bucking a little into his hand. “Come here bunny, want you to sit on my face,” His groan turning into a hiss as he runs his thumb over the head of his cock. “Let me eat that ass.” You shake your head as you watch him stroke himself faster, his hips jerking as he fucks his fist. When you make eye contact with him again he mutters something harsh under his breath, his hips bucking as he suddenly cums hard over his hand. He chokes out your name, cum splattering over his stomach and abdomen in thick streaks of white. He's panting as he wipes his hand across his hip, leaving a smear of cum across his skin that you have the urge to lick up.

“I-, uh,” You panic, face hot as you stutter. “Need to pee.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you throw back the covers and are moving towards the bathroom before he can say a word. You just need a minute.

He gives you maybe two before he follows you, stopping in the doorway of his bathroom to just stare at you. You’re in his t-shirt, nothing else, but his stare makes you feel as naked as he is.

“Where’s Billy?” You can’t think of anything else to say, not with him standing there so brazenly. You can’t meet his eye for more than a second, embarrassment still strong.

He shrugs. “Dunno. He couldn’t sleep, probably gone for a walk.”

“Oh.” You nod, trying and failing not to let your gaze drop. You couldn’t help it. He’s still half hard and there’s a glossy sheen of hastily wiped cum smeared across his abdomen. “Uh…”

A smirk crept across his lips. “Everything okay?”

“Yep.” You bite your lip, unsure why you feel so flustered. It’s not the first time you’ve watched him jerk off, but you feel like he’s just caught you doing something you shouldn’t have. His smile grows wicked as he watches you flounder, taking a step towards you.

“I was dreaming about you,” He shifts his weight, one hand dropping to curl around his cock and you watch as he gives himself a quick squeeze. He doesn’t explain further, doesn’t need to, your sudden refusal to meet his eye has him know you’re thinking something dirty. He shifts closer as he lets the dream replay through his mind. It had been violent, at least the flashes he could remember were. Bloody fingers, the taste of blood in his mouth and an all consuming need to get his hands around your heart that he can still feel nipping at him. It’s a dream Billy would love, would hit that morbidly romantic side of his and Stu tries to commit as much of it to memory as he can.

Dreaming of you. The easy admission makes your face heat even more, and he moves in closer, his hands sliding up over your hips, pushing you backwards until you take the hint and let him help you up to sit on the counter. You sigh as he slots himself between your thighs, gently poking you on the nose before one hand cups your jaw and he kisses you gently.

“Let’s go back to bed.” You murmur against his mouth, but he tenses slightly and pulls back. “Or not?” You feel like you’ve just said something wrong.

“You fuck him up you know. You’ve had him acting odd all day," Stu ignores your request, his hands resting on your thighs and squeezing lightly as he stares at you. “Think I’m a little jealous.”

“Yeah? Is this you jealous? It’s kinda hot," You try not to let the mood change, not rising to his attempt to bait you even though you’re taken aback by his slightly accusatory tone. "And I've definitely got you fucked up too buddy. I've seen the way you look at me." You reach up, flicking him on the forehead, relieved to see the small twitch of a smile on his lips.

"I was fucked up way before I met you bunny, but you're not wrong." Stu lets his hands slide up under the edge of your t-shirt, nails slightly scratching over your skin. "You do mess with my head."

You do. You mess with his head something fierce, in a way he hasn’t even told Billy about. Sometimes he doesn’t even know what to call the things that he feels for you. Emotions that seem to flick from one extreme to the other. He remembers the first time he had felt that odd little flutter of something that had felt a little too much like hate towards you. A group meet up at some coffee place and you’d had the audacity to sit next to Randy instead of him. It had stung, jabbed at him so hard that he’d felt blindingly angry for a split second. Had wanted to drag you over by your hair, sit you down and make you watch as he showed you what Randy’s insides looked like. It had shaken him a little, not the sudden influx of violent thoughts, he was used to that, it was the fact that the urge to be violent had involved you, that it had been directed towards you. He’d forced himself to joke to Billy that you’d replaced them already and Billy had looked at him in that annoying knowing way that he has and Stu knew he wasn’t being as subtle as he thought he was. Billy had been extra attentive for the rest of that day much to his annoyance. So yeah you fucked him up. Was that love? He didn’t know. There was something there, amongst the random bursts of resentment towards you, of jealousy over and of you, of feelings that he doesn’t always understand, but it got mixed in with this obsessive want and yearning of mine, mine, fucking mine into something volatile. Was it normal to want to hurt something you loved? You’re an endless pool of confusion to him but he wouldn’t give you up for anything.

"Stu-," You speak quietly. He’s zoning out, eyes fixated on your shoulder but not really seeing you. One warm palm spanning across your ribs as he holds you, his thumb tapping an odd rapid rhythm on your skin.

"Can I suck on your tits?”

His abrupt question throws you off and you pause as you stare at him. He doesn’t usually ask, usually just dives right in. He’s avoiding your eye as he cups your breasts, thumbs brushing your nipples over the thin cotton, like he’s waiting for your permission.

“Take it off then.” You raise your arms and he raises an eyebrow. You wait. Wait for him to say something, do something, anything other than just stare at your chest.

“Go on,” You arch your back a little, pushing your breasts closer to him and trying to keep your voice steady. You’d gotten better at this, better at reading him and better at toeing the line between being dominant and submissive with him, but it still made you nervous, the payback for getting it wrong was usually pretty exhausting. “Take it off for me.”

He doesn’t say anything as he pulls the shirt up over your head, throwing it over his shoulder, and you take that as a good sign. You can’t help rolling your eyes as he cups your breasts, giving them a squeeze and then a bounce. He grins and you bite your lip to stop yourself returning it.

"You're such a perv."

“You got no fucking idea." Stu mumbles as his mouth latches onto your nipple, it makes you jolt and you wince as his gentle sucking turns almost immediately into a sharp little bite.

"Jesus Stu, watch the teeth.”

"Sorry," He doesn’t sound it but he doesn’t bite you again, instead kissing his way across your chest. He’s being deliberately messy, licking wetly across your skin between each kiss. It feels slightly uncomfortable but he’s obviously getting off on it, humping against the inside of your thigh, cock smearing wetly across your skin with every grind of his hips.

“Bunny these tits I could cum like this, fuck-,”

“You-,” Your breath hitches. “You can. Want you to cum for me.”

He hums, leaning up to lick at the corner of your mouth and you take the opportunity to curl your hand tightly around his cock. He grunts and hunches forward, hiding his face in to the side of your neck as you squeeze and stroke him.

“Stu?” You murmur into his scalp, tracing your fingers over his shoulder as you stroke him, his hips jerking when you scratch your nail lightly over the tip. “Cum for me.” 

He shudders hard then swats your hand away with a hiss. The sudden press of his cock between your legs makes you flinch but he doesn’t wait. With one slow push he was halfway inside and you gasped his name as you clung to the edge of the counter to keep yourself steady. Stu moaned low in his throat, pulling back an inch before sliding back inside until he was full seated inside you.

“You’re perfect,” He moans your name, his lips brushing your ear; “Made for me weren’t you? Mine, bunny.” He’s hit with a sudden rush of possessiveness that knocks him off kilter, he doesn’t want to look at you, doesn’t want you to know just how much of an effect you have on him. It makes him feel sickeningly vulnerable and he really doesn’t want you to realise just how much power you really have over him. He shoves his face into the side of your neck again as he tries to calm the sudden influx of emotions. It has him slamming into you with a force that has you crying out in surprise, or pain, he’s not sure. He doesn’t ask, doesn’t care, he knows you’ll take it regardless as he starts to move in earnest, gripping the back of your neck with one hand and your hip with the other, fucking into you harder on each stroke.

He draws back enough to watch where his cock continuously rocks up inside you. The little fission of self-conscious you feel at his rapt focus doesn’t last long as he fists his hand into your hair, forcing your head back so he can press his mouth over yours, his tongue licking over your teeth in a sloppy kiss.

It’s frantic; a quick rough fuck that was a big switch from how gently he’d kissed you at the start. He’s trying to force your orgasm from you with clumsy fingers stroking across your clit, but it’s not enough. It’s too awkward, his sudden desperation making his movements to uncoordinated to have you reaching your orgasm anytime soon.  The scratch of his nail across the sensitive skin has your whole body tensing and shuddering around him and as he groans your name you can feel him pulsing inside you, his hips slowing to a languid grind as he rides out his orgasm.

There’s a mumbled apology against your mouth and you shake your head gently in response. “It’s ok.”

He’s completely out of breath but his hips keep rocking against you. “You feel so good bunny, so good.” He hisses. He won’t keep still, the wetness between your thighs growing as he starts to soften, his grunts turning into soft whimpery puffs of breath. “Shit, hurts so good.”

You lean back a little so you can peer up at him, the glass of the mirror cold against your back. His eyes are closed, a light frown across his face as he humps against you, pushing himself into over-stimulation. You cradle his face, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone and he shivers, leaning into your touch and finally stills, forehead resting against your shoulder. You don’t say anything, you don’t know what’s wrong, why they both seem so amped up today but you want to try and help. Billy talks, Stu doesn’t. This was probably the best way to give Stu the comfort or reassurance he probably didn’t realise he wanted.

“Bunny?”

You hum quietly in response, not wanting to break this calm little moment, letting your fingers scratch lightly through his hair and down the back of his neck.

“You know I-,” He tenses as he trails off, swallowing hard. He lifts his head slightly, and you’re not surprised to see the mischievous little glint in his eye. Whatever momentary invasion of emotion he’d had is gone, or more likely forced back down. He gives you a grin, fingers fluttering gently between your thighs. “I’m gonna make you cum pretty girl.”

"You don’t-," You began, jerking against him as he brushed two fingers down your stomach, brushing over your bellybutton before sliding between your thighs. 

"I don’t what?" He rests his hands on your thighs as he drops to his knees. 

“Nothing.” You sigh, hooking one leg over his shoulder and leaning back against the mirror. “You do have to actually.”

It’s his turn to stay quiet, just grins up at you as he dips between your legs, kissing along your inner thigh and licking one firm stripe up through your folds, his nose bumping your clit as he dipped his tongue inside you.

Stu grunts in response to your moan, replacing his tongue with one slender finger and stroking up inside you over a spot that had your back arching. 

"Stu," Your heel dug into his back and the hand you had in his hair was probably painful for him but he was making almost as much noise as you, moaning loudly as he lapped at you. He curled a second finger inside you as he began to suck lightly on your clit, his free hand gripping the top of your thigh to keep you from moving too much.

It was awkward, the angle not allowing you to move your hips like you wanted to, grinding roughly against Stu’s face as your orgasm built quickly. He may get a little lost in his selfishness when he fucked you but fuck was he good with his mouth. Your eyes closed as you came, the hand in his hair pulling him in as close as you could as the waves of pleasure rocked through you until you couldn’t take anymore and pushed at his forehead in an effort to get him to stop.

He does, for once not seemingly inclined to torture you and stands slowly, pressing several kisses over your stomach, breasts and shoulder as he rises. The smile he gives you is sleepy, blinking at you slowly as he wipes the back of his hand over the wetness smeared across his mouth and chin.

“Why is it,” Billy starts and Stu jolts in surprise, a quiet curse falling from his lips. It makes you giggle and he glares at you in return. “Every time I leave you two alone for 5 minutes I come back to this exact scene?”

Stu shrugs. He’s not moved, still standing between your thighs and keeping you pinned on the counter.  

“I’m irresistible,” You say and Stu nods enthusiastically in agreement, his fingers drawing idle patterns across your hips. “It’s a burden I have to bear.” You pout and Billy rolls his eyes.

“You’re definitely something.”

“Hey.” That felt like an insult. “I’m not so-,”

He reaches you before you can finish your complaint, his mouth pressing against yours in a ravenous kiss. Lips moving desperately against yours like he hasn’t seen you in years, it’s a little intimidating.

“As hot as this is,” You break the kiss, breathless. “I’m kinda cold. And sticky. I really need to shower. Join us?”

Billy pauses, his gaze flicking between you and Stu, who seems to be spacing out again, his fingers tracing what feels like letters across your knee. “I just showered.”

You look him over, only just noticing the dampness of his hair. “I thought you went for a walk?”

“Sure, I mean technically I did. I walked home.”

“You went home at 5 in the morning to shower?” You frown, you’re confused and a little distracted, half of you trying to decipher what Stu is writing on your skin. “And you just walked back? That’s-,”

“I needed a breather bunny.”

You bite your tongue and just nod. There’s that dismissive defensive note in his voice that means he doesn’t want to talk about it anymore. If you push it he’ll spiral.

“So that’s a no on the shower then? Suit yourself.” Stu finally speaks, startling you as he moves away, grasping your hand and tugging you not so gently down from the counter. You curse him out, which he ignores of course and only make it two stumbled steps towards the shower before Billy is wrapping his hand around your other wrist.

“Can we play tug o war later? I’m sticky,” You point out. “shower.” That rare horrid feeling of being out of place is starting to creep in again as Stu reaches out to flick a stray lock of hair off Billy’s forehead. You hate these moments, where you feel a little like they’re forgetting you’re an actual person and not just their favourite toy. Selfish assholes the little voice in the back of your head helpfully provides but you shut it down quickly.

“Guys.” You let the exasperation leak into your voice, you don’t want to interrupt whatever silent conversation is going on but you’re naked. And cold. “Starting to feel a little awkward here with the no clothes thing going on.”

They both ignore you as Stu plants a quick, chaste kiss on Billy’s mouth then abruptly lets you go, grabbing a towel and shoving it into your arms. 

“Fine. you two shower, I’ll wait,” He grabs his own towel, slinging it around his waist as he heads for the door. “I’ll order some food.” He pauses, turns back and points at the two of you. “Then you’re sitting on my face.”

Billy makes a noise of surprise and you busy yourself with tugging your towel tighter round your shoulders.

“You talking to me or him?” Your face feels flushed, your mind suddenly invaded with images of the two of them together.

Stu shrugs. “You can fight it out between yourselves.” He sticks his tongue out, curling the tip in an obscene gesture that has Billy’s breath hitching. “See you losers later.”

Billy seems frozen for a second before he turns back to you and you can’t help your grin at the eager expression he tries to hide behind his usual indifference.

“Seems I get dinner and a show,” You drop your towel, enjoying the way Billy’s gaze immediately rakes over your body as you step into the shower. “Aren’t I a lucky girl?”

[sharpth1ng]

Does Billy ever feel like he killed the Prescott’s for no reason? He killed Maureen because his mom left, and he viewed his mom leaving as an equivalent loss to Sidney’s mom dying, but now that his mom is back does he ever think it was all for nothing? Like what was the point in it?

I don’t think so, no. Tbh only Maureen’s death was purely about vengeance. It doesn’t really matter if Nancy came back, in Billys mind the cheating was an insult and a wrong done to both her and him, she was gone for two years and he had to deal with that, so for him the murder was still justified either way.

And beyond that he enjoyed doing it. Planning it and carrying it out gave him purpose, made him feel powerful and superior, which is something he’s desperate for.

By the time he’s getting around to the 1996 killings it’s not really about revenge anymore. Sure, he has a lot of pent up anger towards Sidney for the way he associates her with her mother and for the fact that he’s put himself in the position of feeling stuck with her and acting like the good boyfriend for her. He’s chosen to do that, but his internal narrative is that it’s something she’s forced on him as she’s been mourning her mom.

So regardless of whether or not his mom comes back, he’s still pissed with Sidney, still thinks his situation with her is unfair. That means he still gets catharsis in exerting power over her.

A lot of my characterization of Billy comes from the stark difference in the way he behaves before and after the reveal. He’s shut down, stiff, contrived, rarely smiling for the majority of the movie. At least until his Anthony Perkins line, after which he’s beaming, loud, full of sassy lines, limp-wristed waving a knife around.

My perception of him is that he’s someone who’s been in the closet in a lot of ways that aren’t just about his sexuality (although that’s part of it). He’s been masking everything for his whole life, and he’s tired of it; he’s angry that it’s felt like a necessity, and he blames all of that on the people he’s been performing for: his peers and girlfriend.

So the cathartic aspect of these murders isn’t lessened at all by Nancy’s return, because a lot of it isn’t about her at all. And aside from that there’s the part of it thats an art project for him. Remember, him and Stu are talking about it like a crafted narrative, they’re not just killing people, they’re trying to do it in a cinematic way. This aspect of it isn’t about the victims at all, they’re just actors in the movie. The motivation is personal satisfaction and a sense of superiority from the act of carrying out a slasher in real life, in pulling off this kind of orchestrated lie.

Tl;dr no, I don’t think he feels like he killed them for no reason. He enjoyed doing it, it felt freeing to him and he doesn’t need much more reason than that

[sethcertified]

「 SCREAM FOR YOU ! 」 . . . 📂 10.5

scream : billy loomis, stu macher

wrd count : 491

⊹˚.⋆ synopsis . . . [name] faces death for what it is

⊹˚.⋆ starring . . . billy loomis, stu macher, & male reader

How to get away with murder was never a question I had asked myself in the past. I never craved the answer. In fact, I never even considered the possibility of knowing.

I wasn't a murderer.

I wasn't a criminal.

Even in my investigation, I never once asked myself, "How will they get away with murder?" A foolish mistake surely. Maybe I didn't ask because I knew they wouldn't get away with it, or maybe because I knew from the start they would.

But as I was carried out on the stretcher to the ambulance that's all I asked myself; "How to get away with murder?" And against all of my expectations, I knew the answer. I knew how to get away with the murder of 10 people and the fake murder of one.

I am a murderer.

I am a criminal.

I didn't deserve to be saved. I deserved to have bled out on the floor alone and in pain. If there was anyone in this fucked up mess of a massacre who didn't deserve what had happened to them it was Sidney.

Sidney wasn't a murder.

Sidney wasn't a criminal.

Sidney was just a girl who had the unfortunate fate of meeting Billy Loomis.

Voices yelled out to me as I was loaded into the ambulance. The lights were bright; blinding my already blurred vision. The unrecognizable silhouettes of uniformed bodies flashed back and forth speaking in gibberish. I was falling in and out of consciousnessness, and the possibility that I could be dying was very likely, yet the likeliness of that possibility didn't scare me. Death didn't scare me.

Death was something I wasn't scared of in the past even while I was entangled in near death situations at the hands of two blood thirsty murderers. It was something I had accepted with open arms because it was simply something I never considered to ever actually happen to me. It wasn't real. I wasn't actually going to die.

Yet as I bled out on that floor and now onto this stretcher, I recognized death for what it is. I recognized that Death is real. That death isn't a friend or a lover. That death isn't kind. That death didn't care about all the good and all the bad I had done in my life. That death is cruel. That death takes and takes without mercy and without consideration of who it was taking.

That death is blind.

My eyes closed as the ambulance doors slammed shut. The blinding light was making my headache worst, and I couldn't stand the sight of the EMTs rushing around me any longer. All I wanted was to rest.

The world began to fade out as the ambulance's engine roared to a start. I had no clear distinction of whether I was going to sleep or if I was succumbing to death. And to be frank, I could've cared less.

✎ notes . . . is he dead ? is he alive ? we’ll never know (jk I know I just want u guys to suffer) 10 ⇿ 11

©️ sethcertified 2023

[the-name-is-z]

SKELETONS | ch. 1

daryl dixon x f!oc

masterlist

a03 link

Summary: After the apocalypse took everything Iris held dear, a new opportunity presents itself in the form of a bag of guns. Little does she know, that bag of guns starts something much bigger than she ever could have anticipated. Warnings/Information: AMC's The Walking Dead OC Insert | 18+ Advised | strangers to lovers; the slowest of slow burns; gore; angst; horror; humour; m/f; gun violence, gang violence, offensive terminology for gang members and daryl, salty language

Chapter 1 - The Bag

It was Iris' favourite word lately. Repeated like a mantra, over and over. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. The repetition gave her a little bit of comfort, but not enough. Nothing was ever enough. During trying times such as these, Iris took comfort in whatever she could. But it was hard to feel comfortable with blood on your hands. And face. Neck. Clothes. The butchered end of what was once a sledgehammer. The actual hammer part had been gone for a while, but a big stick covered in blood was as best as you could do these days.

Iris sat panting against the door to the bar, trying to ignore the smell of rotting human flesh that seemed to follow her around. A few hungry fists beat against the wood at her back, but the door held strong. 

The bar was once a cheerful place, as cheerful as it could be when it smelled like stale beer and the old velour barstools it was soaked into. The wall to her left was decorated in frames filled with leather vests, the biker gang logos on the back dating back a few decades. The most recent one matching a small patch Iris kept in her pocket. 

A few months ago, there were still people milling about the bar. Stu, the bartender, kept the place as tidy as he could while people took shelter from the infection. Now Stu was laid out all pretty behind the counter with his throat in shreds and a bullet hole between his eyebrows. 

Corpses, memories infested the bar. Ted's reanimated body was impaled on a chair, his wiry, blood-covered arms reaching out toward Iris as she scanned everything. He was too weak to lift a pint when he was alive, nevermind pry his lifeless body up off the broken furniture. Iris used to be the only one to ever beat him at darts. 

As the dead gave up with the door behind her, Iris stood up, pushing the jukebox in front of it. Her footsteps were too loud on the creaky wood, following beer and blood stains up to her little camp. Other sleeping bags were left abandoned around the small apartment over the bar, hers the only one left who's occupant had a heartbeat. She was the last one.

Carefully, and sparingly, Iris poured a bottle of water onto her hands, washing them clean of their daily sins. She never was religious, but extinction events such as this were too often associated with the wrath of God. 

There had been a bag of guns out there today. Iris had made a habit of hopping rooftops across Atlanta. It was the only real way to get around when the dead flooded the street below, mindlessly wandering. She remembered the day the tanks came in, blowing up cars, shops, banks filled with people, living people dying, dead people getting back up. 

There was one tank in particular that she ran past every time she went out. But someone living had been there on that roof. She'd climbed the ladder, eyes immediately drawn to the pool of blood and a pair of handcuffs. One cuff was locked to a steel bar, which had been welded to the roof, and the other was covered in fresh gore. 

The door was open, but Iris had no intention of entering the department store building, not when a severed hand lay halfway between her and the door. He'd been living when he cut his hand off. But he did it well, considering the little amount of blood and flesh covering the hacksaw a few feet away. 

In addition to the severed hand, there was a dead horse on the road. That was unusual only for the fact that they were in the city, and the horse was wearing a saddle. Someone had ridden it in, expecting... not this, probably. Making the point to a triangle involving the horse and the tank was a black Sheriff's duffel bag with a few gun barrels poking out of the top. 

That was what she really needed, even though she appreciated the few cans of food she'd taken out of a food bank box. The city was good for scavenging, but dangerous, and unsustainable. There was a part of Iris that didn't want to leave, despite every nagging instinct telling her the opposite. The bar she inhabited had been home to her for a long time, way before the dead started walking. She didn't want to leave it behind. 

But self-preservation overruled the internal argument, and Iris wrote out a small plan in her mind. Tomorrow, she'd go and get the bag of guns. She didn't need a whole lot, given she was alone, but one could never be too prepared. At least, that was what she thought to convince herself.

-

After another restless night's sleep and a mediocre breakfast of canned pineapple, Iris gathered her things. The small collection consisted of her lucky patch, a bandana that she wore over her face, a leather jacket three sizes too big, a .22 she'd snagged from a dead cop, and her prized possession: a set of knives. 

While it was completely impractical prior to the world's destruction, Iris had stumbled upon a very fancy set of knives post-apocalypse and had finally found a use for her deadly aim. Knives were not the same as darts, but they worked a hell of a lot better. She'd used Ted's hands for target practice. 

The bag was the priority. Other scavenge-able items could be obtained later. Iris began her trek into the city. She made it by the afternoon on foot. It would have been faster if she'd driven one of the bikes from the auto shop beside the bar, but they were loud. 

She made it to the right street, ducking from alley to alley instead of her usual comfortable path along the rooftops. The bag was on the ground, and the walkers were surrounding it, but not on top of it.

Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears as she sprinted past the dead, the bandana stifling the stench as much as it could. They growled in her direction as she brushed past them, gurgling in interest. 

Her fingers wrapped around the handles of the bag, but quick-paced footsteps halted her movements. Iris' head snapped up as she met the gaze of a young man, his eyes panicked. He was unarmed. She took the opportunity and ran, leaving him to keep running.

"Wait!" He hissed, running after her. 

-

Glenn swore under his breath as the woman took the bag and ran. He grabbed Rick's hat, strewn across the road, and ran after her.

"Ayúdame! Ayúdame!" Someone yelled, their voice echoing off the walls of the city. He ran after the girl, who was running toward the alley where Daryl waited.

-

"Fuck." Iris mumbled, stumbling into the nearest alley. Only, instead of a clear escape route, she found four guys with violent looks in their eyes. Well, three. The fourth was lying on the ground, fighting against a man with a crossbow pointed between his eyes. The other two started beating the crossbow guy with pipes, looking up as they noticed her. The kid from before skidded into the alley behind her, only for his eyes to blow wide at the sight.

Iris shoved the kid forward, retreating. She'd find another goddamn alley. He yelped as one of the other guys grabbed him by the shirt collar.

"That's it! That's the bag, Vato! Take it!" He yelled. Iris made it only a few steps before she was tackled to the ground. She wrestled with the guy on top of her, the bag of guns digging into her spine.

"Let go of me! Let go! Daryl! Daryl!" The boy from before screamed as one of the guys dragged him from the alley. A rusty car pulled up quickly as the walkers started to close in. The man on top of her and the guy holding the kid got into the car, tires squealing as they retreated to wherever they came from. 

"Fuck." Iris repeated as she pulled a knife from the sheath at her waist, killing the nearest walker with a grunt. She made to kill the next but a coloured arrow speared through its skull, the corpse collapsing in front of her. The man from before, albeit bloodied and bruised, grabbed the bag, still strapped to Iris' back, and hauled them both behind the chain link fence blocking off the alleyway. 

"Where'd they go?" He spat, pointing the crossbow in her face as he pinned her against the wall. The fourth man, less of a man than a kid, saw his chance and ran down the other end of the alley, only to come face to face with the barrel of a pistol. Two men, the one with the gun in a sheriff's uniform and the other unarmed, marched the kid back to the mouth of the alley, where the crossbow was held to Iris' forehead. "Where are they?" He repeated.

"I'm not with them." Iris hissed, pushing the crossbow away and taking a defensive stance. Daryl grunted and made to attack her, but the sheriff grabbed him, pulling him away.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Stop it!" He urged, holding him back. Iris was clearly trapped between the fence and the rest of them, but the ladder to the rooftop was close. The other guy, holding the kid, saw her eyes shift and moved to guard it. The guy with the crossbow snapped like a rabid dog, going for the kid, who was now closer.

"I'm gonna kick your nuts up into your throat! They took Glenn. This little bastard and his little bastard homie friends! I'm gonna stomp your ass!"

"Guys, guys! We're cut off!" The guy holding the kid yelled, gesturing to the fence behind Iris. She glanced back at it, the chain links wavering against the growing mob. Iris narrowed her eyes at the obstacle between her and her freedom. 

"Get to the lab, go!" The sheriff instructed, the unarmed guy taking the kid to wherever this lab was. He picked up his revolver, pointing it at Iris. "Come on."

"Damn, let's go!" Crossbow guy snarled. The sheriff grabbed his hat from the ground, nodding his head at Iris when she didn't move. It was between them, and the army of dead things behind her. If she was honest, she might've preferred the latter. She started after the man with the crossbow, flanked by the sheriff, regretting this little adventure with each step.

They rushed into the back door of a building, the inside torn to shit. Iris followed to one room in particular before she was shoved toward a wall. She whipped out her knife with a flash, angling it toward the hunter's neck. He grimaced, backing up a step. The sheriff walked in, an air of dominance in his step. It was clear he didn't know what he was getting into.

"Those are our guns." He said, looking to the bag pointedly. The hunter tried again to grab the bag from Iris, but she angled the knife toward him again. 

"Haven't you heard of 'finders keepers?'" She asked tauntingly. "Or are you gonna arrest me for stealing?" The sheriff didn't react, just looking between her and the kid.

"Those men you were with. We need to know where they went." He stated.

"Like I said before, I'm not with them." Iris grumbled.

"I ain't telling you nothing." The kid said through his split lip. He had a weed tattoo on the side of his neck, a silver chain hanging beside it. It looked stupid. 

"Jesus, man, what the hell happened back there?" The strong guy asked, shaking his head.

"I told you. This little turd and his douchebag friends came out of nowhere and jumped me." The hunter replied. "Then she comes out of nowhere with our guns."

"You're the one who jumped me, puto." The kid drawled. "Screaming about trying to find his brother like it's my damn fault."

"They took Glenn. Could've taken Merle too." 

"Merle? What kind of hick name is that? I wouldn't name my dog Merle." The kid muttered, the hunter lunging at him. The sheriff stepped in, hauling his ass back.

"Damn it, Daryl. Back off!" He huffed. The hunter, Daryl, huffed in frustration, going to his bag and grabbing something wrapped in a bandana. Iris watched the exchange carefully.

"Wanna see what happened to the last guy that pissed me off?" He asked, unwrapping the bundle and throwing a severed hand into the kid's lap. Iris' eyes narrowed in recognition. The kid screamed, stumbling away from the hand as Daryl unsheathed a pocket knife, pointing it toward the kid. "We'll start with the feet this time."

"Would your brother happen to have been handcuffed to a roof?" Iris asked, drawing his attention away from the stupid kid. Daryl spun on his heel, nothing behind his eyes but rage.

"You fucking--"

"He was gone when I saw the handcuffs. The hand." She explained, nodding to the hand as he aimed his knife at her.

"You know where he is?" Daryl asked, a small tweak of sadness cutting through his voice. Iris shook her head slowly. The sheriff sighed, kneeling down to the kid.

"The men you were with took our friend. All we wanna do is talk to them, see if we can work something out." He explained. The kid looked down at his feet before he opened his mouth and told them everything.

Iris watched the trio argue amongst one another when deciding what to do. The sheriff sighed, turning toward her and approaching slowly.

"You alone?" He asked.

"No." She lied. 

"Those guns belong to us." He insisted, gesturing to the large 'SHERIFF' label on the side of the bag.

"I don't know which cop you skinned to get the uniform, Officer--" She glanced at his metal name tag. "Grimes."

"I'm Rick. Alright? We need those guns to get our friend back." He explained.

"Yeah, I know. I'm standing right here, I heard you. Your little negotiation idea won't work." She replied, narrowing her eyes. "Gangbangers don't really do diplomacy."

"Hey, shut up, bitch! We're not gangbangers!" The kid protested, only to shrink back at the sight of a crossbow in his face.

"Don't look that way to me." Daryl murmured.

"What's your name?" Rick asked Iris, drawing back her attention. She regarded him closely for a moment before pulling down her bandana.

"Iris." She replied. Rick put his hands on his hips as he nodded.

"Well, Iris, if you really are alone, as I suspect you are, then we might be able to cut a deal." He offered slowly.

"Alright..." She nodded for him to continue.

"You don't need all those guns yourself. Take a look inside the bag, see for yourself. You give the bag to us, we give you a cut, them a cut, and we get a cut. And we can all go exchange our people."

"Got anything to sweeten the deal?" Iris asked after a moment, raising an eyebrow. Rick nodded in understanding, glancing nervously back at his two companions.

"Well, you could come back with us to our group." He reasoned. The two others exchanged a small look of protest, but said nothing. Iris looked back to Rick.

"What makes you think I want that?"

"Strength in numbers? Self preservation? Get out of the city? Safe place to eat, sleep..." He trailed off, analyzing her reactions. 

Iris considered. She really did. And Rick was right, for the most part. Being alone in this was hard, but making friends was harder. And living was impossible without guns. So, she agreed.

"I'll go with you." She said quietly. "I got your back. But I won't promise to stay with your people."

"Alright." Rick nodded, content with her answer.

[lonleydweller]

yan alphabet with billy and stu from scream? i hc them as together, so an alphabet with both of them working together to get reader would be neat. if you only wanna do one, billy please (skeet ulrich my beloved)

🥀Yandere Alphabet-Billy Loomis 🥀

I tried to do both but it's a lot of work to do for one alphabet, and alphabets are already lengthy to do and I didn't wanna have to make you wait any longer for your request!! However if you want to request hcs for them working together I'd more than gladly do it!! Sorry if this isn't the best I'm trying to get back into the groove of writing!!

@helpfandom

!Warnings!: Yandere trope, toxic relationship, forced relationship, stalking, sadism, murder, violence, possessiveness, violence towards darling, mentioned unwanted flirting and touching, mentioned possibility of darling dying.

Yanderes are OK to enjoy in fiction. They should stay fiction. They are not examples of healthy relationships. These behaviors are NOT okay in real life. They are horrid. This is for entertainment purposes

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Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

From what I remember in the movie, Billy was very pyshcially affectionate and touchy with Sidney, so I imagine he'd be the same way with you. Except even more intense. Forced kissing, touching, groping, cuddling. Nothing further luckily but he will make a fuss about it.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Very messy. Willing to gut someone just for fun. When it comes down to you? Someone flirting with you? Bullying you? Being near you and he simply dosen't like them? The police will hardly be able to identify them when their body is found.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He'd be cruel. He'd taunt you, mock you, play games with you. Give a hope of escape one second just to tear it away.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

As mentioned before, pyshcial affection.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He's not very vulnerable with you. He's supposed to be the one in power. He's supposed to have the advantage. The idea of you having any leverage over him upsets him.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He gets an ego boost when he's able to overpower you, it's more fun when there's a struggle. However there's certain times where he'd rather not deal with it and it just gets on his nerves.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

It is very much a game, one he almost always wins, he loves to give chase, to let you think you have a chance. Only to block your escape and tackle you.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Probably whenever he chases you around in that dammed Ghostface costume, especially before he reveals its him. As far as you're concerned you have a masked killer chasing you around your home, almost nightly, unknown with their intentions.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Just you being with him until one of you dies. He really could care less. However he wouldn't be against the idea of you joining him and stu as another Ghostface killer..

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Very jealous. Very easily. Very quickly. He lashes out, probably punches a whole in the damn wall in the midst of it. Course, whoever he's jealous of is the next victim on him and Stu's list.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

He acts overall manipulative, sadistic, mocking, and controlling. He acts almost like a bully more than the lover he's trying to pose as. Sure he'll give you affection and act "loving", but it all has a undertone of condescension. Like it's just to mock you. Who's to say it isn't?

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He'd stalk you. Figuring out what you like. Figuring out your type. Making himself more approachable to you, more to your taste, slowly integrating himself into your life. All with the goal of winning you over. Then at night he'd call you over the phone, asking about your favorite horror movies, complementing your appearance, commenting on things in your personal life. All while threatening to gut you if you hang up.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Yes. To everyone else he's just the average 18 year old. Not some murderous leech.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

Chasing you around in his Ghostface costume, terrorizing you, slicing, cutting, and maybe even maiming you. He won't kill you, but you'll wish he would.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

All of them.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Not very patient. Whatever you're doing to test that patience is quickly met with annoyed yelling from him, then soon a knife to your neck if you don't stop.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

No and no.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

A bit of his childhood you could argue.. but mainly boredom and curiosity. Now he dosen't have Sidney to manipulate and toy around he needs someone else to fill the gap. Permanently. Which unfortunately just so happens to be you.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

He gets a kick from it, he finds it cute when you cry, he'll mockingly comfort. Hold you close. Tight enough to where you feel like your ribs are going to break.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Chase you around in the Ghostface costume I suppose.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

It may be difficult, but his temper. It could easily leave you with a bad gash, or, if he's having his tantrum somewhere else in the house and is too busy to pay attention.. you could use that to make an escape.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Absolutely. He loves it. Worse case scenario, if he ever gets bored of you.. you'll join the others six feet below.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

He dosen't care much for winning you over or worshipping you. He wants you, so he'll take you. He loves the control he has over you more than the you yourself.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

A year at most.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Yes. Very much on purpose too.

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[geekgirl750-writes]

Random Headcanons for the Scream (1996) Group

A/N Okay so I know I've been promising a bunch of fics and they will be coming...eventually. But right now I have major Scream brainrot so here are some of my headcanons for the characters

Warnings: swearing, mentions of sex, Billy & Stu being misogynistic, mentions of bullying, mentions of cheating, brief mention of alcohol, mention of murder/canon typical violence in Scream

Billy is the oldest and Randy is the youngest

More specifically the birth order goes Billy, Tatum, Sidney, Stu & then Randy

Billy & Tatum's birthdays are both in September and are two weeks apart

Sidney's birthday is in November

Stu's birthday is in late March because in my mind there is no way that man is not an Aries

Randy's birthday is only about a month after Stu's, but Stu uses any chance he gets to bring up the fact that Randy is the "baby" of the group to piss him off

For example:

Stu cuts off Randy during one of his rants about how the sinners are always punished in horror movies because, "What do you know about the sex rules in horror movies, anyways huh?! You're such a virgin, I bet you have wet dreams about Jamie Lee's breasts" Stu chuckles, blowing air in Randy's ear.

"Shut up!" Randy argues back, he feels a blush spread across his face and up to his ears.

"Aww look Billy, the baby's blushing. It is true!" Stu laughs louder.

"I'm not a baby! Your birthday is only 3 weeks before mine!" Randy pouts.

"Whatever you say, baby" Stu sticks his tongue out at Randy, devolving into a fit of laughter at his expense.

Randy has autism (I feel like this one isn't even up for debate)

Stu has ADHD and dyslexia

Tatum isn't a natural blonde:

Her real hair color is a shade of brown slightly lighter than Sidney's. She started dying her hair during junior year because she wanted to stand out more

Speaking of hair dying, Stu definitely bleached his hair sophomore year (think Tim Laflour from Senseless) just to piss off his parents

I wouldn't say Tatum is boy crazy but I think she definitely likes knowing that she can hold a man's attention

I feel like Stu and Tatum haven't been dating that long, having only gotten together about 6-8 months before the start of Scream

I also think Stu is Tatum's first real relationship

I feel like Sidney and Casey Becker would have been besties if they had gotten the chance to get closer

Tatum was always secretly a little insecure whenever Casey got brought up but if she had really gotten to know her they would've been friendly too.

I think Stu used to tell Tatum lies about Casey/ Casey & his relationship to make Tatum jealous on purpose

Literally if it wasn't for Stu then Sidney, Tatum and Casey would've been such an iconic girl group

I think in terms of distance Randy and Tatum live closest to each other, their houses are only a few blocks away from each other near the center of town

Billy also lives close to the center but heading the opposite direction from Tatum and Randy

Sidney's house is closet to Stu's with the two of them living on the outskirts of town in the more rural area.

Group hangouts & movie nights are usually at Stu's place because his house has the most space and his parents are rarely home

Occasionally Randy will host movie nights at his house but not as often as Stu because whenever the group hangs out at Randy's, Martha wants to be included

And while Randy loves his sister, they can't really watch slasher movies and drink beer with a kid hanging around

I think before Maureen was murdered the gang would hang out at Sidney's house a lot too

But after she died, Sidney found it hard to have company over because it reminded her of all the memories she had of her mom, like her baking cookies for Sid & her friends, or all the times she had begged her mom to let Tatum sleep over on a school night, and now it was too painful to try and create new happy memories in the house since she was gone

Billy always preferred hanging out at Stu's as he was finding it harder and harder to be at the Prescott's house

Each time he walked through the door he could feel his blood boiling thinking about what was going on between Sidney's mother and his father & how much of a slut Maureen was

Okay so I've found myself struggling to figure out how Randy ended up in that friend group

Because for me I think Sidney and Tatum have been best friends for forever, having been friends since the 1st grade

Stu and Billy have also been friends a long time, meeting each other in the 3rd grade when Billy's family moved to Woodsboro and the two instantly clicked.

But Randy... he feels like a bit of an outsider compared to the other boys and I doubt him and Tatum would have been friends first if it wasn't for the fact they already had mutual friends

I think Sidney was the one to introduce Randy to the group:

Like it's the 7th grade and Sidney and Tatum are a school dance (I'm imagining something like the Snow Ball from Stranger Things) and this group of popular guys come running up to them snickering being like "Our friend has a crush on you! This guy wants to ask you out... we're totally like his best friends." And Sidney can tell something is up

She sees the group of boys gesturing to this geeky looking kid sitting by himself all awkward on the bleachers and instantly knows that he's the butt of some practical joke.

"He wants to make out with you! He told me himself!" The leader of the group laughs pointing at Sidney.

"Leave us alone you creeps!" Tatum yells back, pulling her and Sidney away from the boys before they take off laughing.

And then Sidney is just standing there looking at this poor kid alone on the bleachers and before she can stop herself, she's walking over to him

Tatum is just watching her like girl wtf are you doing?!

Sidney sits down beside him and introduces herself

Needless to say Randy is shocked, like why is this cute girl talking to him of all people!?

"Hey I'm sorry those guys are such jerks! Would you like to dance with my friend and me?" Sidney asks pointing to Tatum

And then it's literally love at first sight for Randy.

Randy spends the rest of the night dancing and talking with the girls and Sidney starts to realize maybe this kid isn't all that weird and annoying after all

After the dance, Sidney and Randy start saying hi to each other in the halls or occasionally eating lunch together until it grows into a fully formed friendship

Also just because Tatum wasn't super open to Randy in the beginning doesn't mean that they're not besties now

Because they are!

I see Tatum and Randy being big time gossip buddies

Like Randy is obviously really nerdy so I see him as being the type of guy other people don't really pay attention to

Which means the more popular students will be gossiping right in front of him like he's not even there and Randy's holding on to every single word

Like one time he was sitting in the library only pretending to type up his English essay because the two girls next to him were whispering about how Christina from his biology class had not only gotten knocked up over summer break but how her boyfriend might not be the father because "Casey like totally saw her sneaking upstairs with this scary-looking guy at Steve Orth's 4th of July party"

And Randy is sitting there feeling like his head is going to explode if he doesn't immediately run and share this news with Tatum so the two can swap theories on who the mystery guy is

Stu likes to gossip too but Tatum is selective with what she tells him because he's a blabbermouth and will spread the stories all over school

I feel like the friendship as we see it in the opening of Scream didn't happen right away

Like usually it was just Billy & Stu hanging out and then Sidney & Tatum, or Randy and the girls hanging out separately

It was until freshman year that the 5 of them all started hanging out as one big group as Billy and Sidney got closer

Randy didn't want to admit it to the girls but I think he was happy at first to have some guy friends around

Although tbh Billy and Stu are more like his frenemies at best with how much they like to abuse and tease him

I like to headcanon that Randy was raised by a single mom, with his dad walking on the family when Randy was 8, leaving his mom to take care of him and Martha by herself

Because of this I think Randy can struggle a bit with his masculinity sometimes

I think before the murders he used to look to Billy and Stu as sort of guides on how to be "manly"

But as he got older, like during junior/early senior year, he started to see just how much of misogynistic jerks the two were

I think Randy is closer to Stu than Billy

Like during the rare moments where Stu isn't making fun of him they actually have similar interests in terms of movies and will chat about that

I don't think Randy ever really liked Billy as he always saw him as a sort of competition for Sidney's affection

But I feel like he tried to make an effort to get along with Billy until the start of their junior year:

Billy's mom had left him and his dad under mysterious circumstances a week before the start of the new school year & Billy had been acting a little more off than usual

Randy feeling empathetic towards him and remembering what it was like when his dad left tried to start a conversation with Billy about it:

"Hey, Billy I know we've never been as close as you and Stu but if you want to talk about y'know... your mom" Randy trailed off, glancing at Billy over the door to his locker, Billy's face unreadable. "Look I remember when my dad left I-"

Before Randy could finish his sentence, Billy grabbed him by the shirt collar, shoving him harshly into the wall of lockers.

"Listen shithead! Your father ran off with his cum dump slut of a secretary," Billy sneered his face inches from Randy's, a look of anger in his eyes that Randy had never seen before. "Don't try and fucking act like you understand any of this."

Billy let go slamming him back into the lockers and storming off, leaving Randy scared and speechless.

Billy gave Randy a half assed apology later that day during lunch, saying all the stress at home was getting to him and urged Randy to keep the whole situation between the two of them

Randy agreed but never truly forgave Billy and lost all trust in him after that

Lastly, this might be controversial but I feel like the queer relationship between Stu and Billy was one sided

Like Stu definitely had a crush on Billy

And Billy liked Stu because he was "different" and "understood him", but his feelings towards Stu weren't as strong as Stu's were for him

I kinda feel like Billy used Stu's crush to manipulate him a bit

Like Stu definitely went along with the murders of his own accord because he's sick and twisted and thought they were fun

But I think Billy sold him on this lie of how the pair would be the two sole survivors and they would go on to create a sequel

While Billy cared for Stu, he wouldn't hesitate to kill him if it meant he could get away with his plan as revenge was always what was most important to him

And one thing about Stu is that guy has a big mouth

He could barely go one day without not so subtly bragging about how he and Billy murdered Casey and Steve

I doubt Billy expected him to be able to keep the whole events of the Woodsboro murders a secret for very long

Which is why I think Billy cut him a little too deeply in the kitchen scene on purpose

Stu was just his muscle and lap dog to help him carry out his big plan

Billy always saw himself as the lone "final girl" in his revenge plot so Stu bleeding out from his wounds wouldn't have been that big of an issue to him

[invested-in-your-future]

do you think some rwby characters have been unfortunately unitentionally turned to mary sues/gary stus

Jaune. Jaune. Jaune.

Perfectly describes Jaune and I don't even know if unintentionally.

We started with an okay set-up - a screw up with all the wrong ideas about "being heroic" and all the insecurities about his masculinity learning to be his own person and learning to express himself is actually a pretty strong starter premise for a character. But at some point that turned into "a burdened man learning to be the HERO through SUFFERING and DYING WOMEN as everyone gets to understand his PAIN and how much he DIDN'T ASK FOR THIS"

The writers kind of...forgot that he isn't the protagonist and just a side-character? And then kind of gave him ALL the screentime and ALL the plotlines and ALL the importance.

SOMEHOW Jaune feels like both a self-insert OC, Author's Pet AND yet somehow also blank slate at the same time.

As far as Fanfic OC aspect goes, Narrative will ALWAYS find an excuse of just WHY Jaune should absolutely be involved in something. It's almost like plot can't be allowed to progress with him. There's a "slight"(understatement) change in how he is written after the first three Volumes in that the narrative intent is to frame him as the inspiring one, the heroic one, the one that comes up with various ideas and the one that is the "heart" of the story. Ironically that's also pretty common with fanfic OC self-inserts being added, as the first thing a person usually does is to try to find a reason on just why the character matters and why the character sticks with the "cool kids(original protagonists)". Maybe the protagonists have an issue, but the OC is there to come up with a solution?! Maybe the OC had a very sad past that he shares with the protagonists showing how much the whole situation thematically is about him too?! Maybe the OC has a History with one of enemies that makes them motivated to defeat them (so what if often the fanfic OC's "history/motivations" ends up overlapping with actual story protagonist's reasons to want to fight the said antagonist) - pretty often involving a dead LI. Suddenly its the OC who is having this journey while the protagonists of the story are along for the ride and are affected by his growth and actions.

As far as Author's Pet goes, the narrative will ALWAYS self-congratulate itself on Jaune's growth and progress and how much of a bigger-person he is in spite of all his Flaws(tm) and in spite of how much he "didn't ask for this". Let's say it again, but bit more bluntly - In a story where the main message just now was that trauma and flaws don't matter and the protagonist is flawless and psychological trauma isn't real, the narrative will STILL self-congratulate itself over Jaune's growth over...his flaws and trauma?! There's pretty clear-cut subconscious element to the character writing too as Jaune is the inexperienced youngster who is thrust into the role of leadership and is reluctantly leading the narrative forward, in spite of everyone (especially villains!) telling him of how he is not a hero and how this is a hard path to walk. He is overwhelmed by the responsibility but perseveres through all the loss and tragedy to inspire others and all other characters recognize his growth and note how much stronger and mature he is now and how he's wise now. Even if we ignore the absolutely clear-cut (un)intentional metaphor of "just two inexperienced white guys writing this huuuuge show" as Miles would likely put it, There's an intent behind the narrative to try to make him likeable. In fact there's more intent in trying to make JAUNE likeable than literally any other character in the story including the ACTUAL protagonists. The narrative DESPERATELY wants the audience to see him as the "heart of the story". The story by all means shouldn't be about Jaune or relating to Jaune or telling us how Jaune feels but the narrative absolutely bends over backwards to make it so. Which gets ESPECIALLY ridiculous when the writers try to find a reason to put Jaune together with the PROTAGONISTS in their Filler Character Development Goof Dimension.

Which leads to the blank slate part, because since narrative is trying extra hard to make the audience relate to Jaune's "just a normal guy" status, intentionally or unintentionally, the character does fit the "audience self insert" idea too - Jaune is written as non-descript enough for the audience to self-insert into him ( and the show actually manages to make him MORE non-descript in terms of appearance somehow), he is surrounded by all these larger than life characters (most of them women) telling him how much he has grown and travelling with him. Even villains(most of them women) focus on him and he gets to save others and tell others how much its all about him and his emotions and struggle. Sure there's trauma (that's fine because people inserting can just ignore it, like they always do), but there's also no lasting negative consequences for his actions so the audience doesn't feel bad about relating to him too much. Sure the premise started with him having flaws but "he changed" and there's no real effort to examine the consequences or meaning behind his actions or character tropes. If one didn't say the name of the actual show, the whole set up would be pretty close to a cheap light novel premise.

The sad part is I genuinely couldn't tell you if all of that is the writers of MilesWBY being THAT self-indulgent intentionally or if parts of it are just an unintentional result of bad writing.

[mythserene]

AUDIO: The impact of Tune In on some of the most awesome Beatles podcasters in existence: the peeps from Screw It, We're Just Gonna Talk About the Beatles (followed by two happier—and opposite ones—based on watching "Get Back")

Okay, I'm going to do this. Sloppily. But if anyone is mean to these guys in any way I am going to hunt you down, because they are awesome. Absolutely wonderful. But I remembered listening to this episode where they talked about Tune In back when I was sort of obsessed with the story of the early Beatles and loved/hated Lewisohn's book, and so I went back to see if the effect of Tune In on opinions of Paul McCartney were as marked as I remembered, and yeah. Even more. I could not clip anywhere near all of them, but I took a few.

You really should listen to this podcast in general. It's joyful and lovely. And do not blame them for the impact of the book. But that is the point. People who love The Beatles are completely charmed with Tune In, and because the book is so detailed and well-written, prose-wise, and Lewisohn is so revered, no one thinks to question the slant.

three clips from their Tune In episode:

*with creator Will Hines and panelists Katie Plattner and Jennifer Wang

It's important to note that this episode aired in August of 2018—before "Get Back"—so for the hell of it, I'm going to add a clip or two of their Get Back episode after these just for the contrast. To see the difference in reading "the expert" who got his expertise from working for Paul and who Paul fired and doesn't seem to like much any more, and actually watching these people in real life. (Or as close as we're going to get.)

Clip: Paul was cold and alienating but "John felt warm and friendly” and "he was the leader."

Clip: Paul was such an "asshole" to Brian Epstein. He was "so petty." "I have so much affection for Paul, but reading this there was a bunch of times where I was like, 'What the fuck are you doing, Paul? Like, quit being such a jerk.'" You get a sense of Paul's "iciness." Paul's reaction to him mom dying compared to John's.

Clip: Paul wanted Stu out because he wanted John, possibly unconsciously

Now, from their Get Back episode. (An absolute joy, btw.)

Clip: Paul was "the leader," Paul was "the engine." The way John and Paul locked eyes.

Clip: Conflict resolution, Paul "being humble about a lot of stuff" "in a surprising way," how compatible John and Paul were, "so much more compatible than it's made out to be," they all "had a lot of sympathy for each other," more John and Paul locking eyes

Fwiw, a reminder that Mark Lewisohn said he saw nothing new in "Get Back" and most definitely did not see anything like what he was seeing all over the internet that everyone else saw. (And he seemed very annoyed about all us hicks seeing what wasn't there.) But for these fans with a podcast, it basically flipped their impressions of the band formed from Tune In a full one-hundred eighty degrees.

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I am so done for today. ✌🏻💜

[petrodragonicapocalypse]

sometimes a king gizzard song will be like "the weather is changing and the sea levels are rising :( it makes me so sad to see all of the creatures dying :(" and then you go on genius lyrics and the annotations are like "this is a clever reference to han-tyumi the cyborg fusing with his creation the soy-protein munt machine and consuming the gizzverse in vomit-based annihilation" my brother in stu mackenzie that is climate change. from real life

[wonderfulworldofmichaelford]

Psycho Analysis: William Afton

(WARNING! This analysis contains SPOILERS!)

The original Five Nights at Freddy’s had an Easter egg in the form of news articles detailing the disappearance of several children at Freddy’s, a little bit of easily missable lore that hinted that there was more to these killer animatronics than meets the eye and giving a good indication as to why the pizza place seemed like such a shithole. Of course, these papers raised a very important, chilling question: Who was the man behind the slaughter?

And the answer as provided by the sequel and that would be expanded upon in later installments was: This creepy purple fuck.

William Afton AKA Purple Guy is the monster who many lost their sons (and daughters) to. He’s a wildly enigmatic serial killer who is expanded upon in cryptic cutscenes and games in the earlier entries… And then later entries would really delve into who he is and make him also ludicrously complicated, as if he were a physical representation of the series itself. But even though it’s been so long, we’re stuck to ponder the greatest and most important question of them all:

Motivation/Goals: I think the most fascinating aspect of Afton is that, despite the lore becoming so much more dense and crazy as the series went on, one thing never changed: His goals are utterly and completely unknowable. Sure, Afton has long since been revealed to be a mad scientist and something of a Jigsaw-type torturer of children… But why? What does he gain other than perhaps some sick, perverted joy? What drives him to kill children? What made him come back to destroy the animatronics in the lead up to his first death? Why does he keep coming back time and time again? Afton leaves us with a lot more questions than answers, and even as he has steadily become sillier and sillier in terms of characterization, he still manages to retain an unsettling evil presence to him due to a lack of any real reason as to why he is the way he is. He’s just an evil, loathsome asshole.

Performance: In Sister Location, Afton is finally given a voice by P. J. Heywood, but that’s a voice role that could never hope to escape the shadow of the live-action adaptation’s casting. In the movie that was finally released in 2023 after years in development hell, Afton was portrayed by Matthew Lillard. He’s most well known today as Shaggy from the live-action Scooby Doo movies, but his role here calls back to one of his big breakout roles: Stu Macher, one half of the original Ghostface in Scream. While he is used incredibly sparingly in the film—he appears for a couple minutes near the start and then about ten minutes at the end—he steals the scene every time he’s onscreen, and his performance once he’s put the Springtrap suit on and is in full villain mode really show that he’s still got it. It’s hard not to feel disappointed we only got a small taste of what Lillard can bring to the role, but hey, there’s always sequels. Many are already calling him the definitive portrayal of Afton, and it’s hard to disagree.

Final Fate: This dude gets fucked up and comes back so much that he would leave Rasputin in awe.

In Five Nights at Freddy’s 3, we get to see his first gruesome end. Trapped by the ghosts of his victims, he decides to hide from them in a Spring Bonnie costume… that has been sitting in a damp room, and which has mechanisms that are known to fuck up and maim the wearer if they breathe funny? Bro was just asking to get Springtrapped.

After slowly and painfully dying from having his skeleton obliterated, he was left to rot in the abandoned pizzeria’s sealed room for decades until some absolute genius decided to turn the place into a spooky haunted house attraction. Afton wakes up, but he gets less than a week to enjoy his newfound freedom because due to faulty wiring the place burns down with him inside it. He’s revealed to have survived that in the end of Sister Location, but then Pizzeria Simulator has him trapped in an inescapable maze and set ablaze again… And for now, it seems to have stuck. Sure, there are hints here and there that this guy might still be purpling around, but right now it’s nothing more than theories.

GAME THEOR—

Best Scene: Aside from the aforementioned death scene from the third game, both scenes Lillard is in in the film are the highlights of the movie.

Best Quote: “I always come back!” A line so good, they had to have Lillard drop it as his pre-mortem one-liner in the movie!

Final Thoughts & Score: As I mentioned in the opening paragraphs, William Afton very much feels like the embodiment of his home series in one character. He started out as something simple and chilling—a serial killer who targeted children, using their love of a mascot character to lure them to their death—but then, over time, slowly morphed into a mad scientist who designed the animatronics and managed to cheat death multiple times. He’s a living metaphor for how the series that started as a simple series of horror games with a little lore being drip fed to us eventually morphed into some massive, crazy science-fantasy epic with convoluted plotlines and all sorts of robotic and supernatural nonsense at every turn. And Afton and the series both ultimately have one important aspect in common: Despite everything, they’re still immensely enjoyable.

Yes, at this point Afton really just needs to stay dead and not pop up again as a main antagonist; his arc is over, he’s run his course, and his current final fate is immensely satisfying. It would honestly feel like a cheat if he came back again. And yes, it’s really silly they turned what was essentially a grounded Pennywise into Chuck E. Cheese Jigsaw, with elaborate torture machines and mad science and all, but I think it’s all very fun and charming in a B-movie sort of way. And Like I’ve mentioned previously, all of the added information still does nothing to elaborate on his true motives behind the slaughter. The man is every bit as unsettling and enigmatic because nothing we learn about him tells us the truth that we really want to know: Why?

Afton is one of the most iconic modern video game characters. No, not just villains, characters, period. I think as far as video game villains go, he’s easily one of the most memorable to come out of 2010s video game culture, and he’s pretty recognizable due to his wacky purple sprites. I think part of the appeal is all of the mystery surrounding him, especially back during the first three games. The books, later games, and to a lesser extent the movie slightly demystify him, but the elements about him that work wouldn’t make me rate him below an 8.5/10. He’s a weird, fucked up guy who is shrouded in mystery even as he gets more and more cartoonishly evil, and there’s something really fascinating about that.

Now if he could just fucking stay dead so I could appreciate him a bit more, that’d be great.

[msookyspooky]

   Fours a Franchise

Part 3

wordcount: 8, 468

You stared at the animated, charismatic man you hadn't seen in 10 years. Blanket curled around you to hide half your face as you watched the big screen intently. Stu imitating that voice took you back to the cemetery that day…How simple it felt hugging him and talking to him about the past before it all seemed to steadily go downhill from there on out.

Randy got your attention and pointed to the twins. "I think they're tuckered out finally…They stayed up just one extra hour more than they usually do. Count it as a blessing, right? One day they're gonna be out way past curfew worrying me and their mother sick."

You looked over at them. Both 6 year olds curled up together on a giant beanbag chair on the floor. Sleeping soundly without a care in the world. You couldn't stop the smile slowly spreading across your face as you lowered your blanket and Randy paused the DVD.

Karla crept into the room. "I heard the tv go off. Are they sleeping yet?" She whispered.

Randy nodded and took Chad into his arms. His son mumbled something in his sleep as Randy softly shhed him to go back to sleep. Karla took Mindy to help get them to her and Randy's bed.

You were secretly grateful to not finish Scooby Doo because seeing 'Shaggy' made you feel so many complicated and uncomfortable feelings all at once.

You REALLY didn't want to make that call now.

Karla laid Mindy down before she sweetly kissed her and Chad's foreheads as Randy tucked them in. Then she walked over to you in the doorway and quietly asked. "Are you going to be okay on the couch, YN?"

"Yeah, totally." You replied back. "I really appreciate you letting me stay, Karla. Seriously, I can leave and make up an excuse to Randy. I swear, he'll never know."

"Yes, he will." Randy mumbled as he appeared near the doorway. Children tucked into the center of their Queen Sized bed. You puffed air past your lips as he folded his arms and gave you a scowl. "I will know if you suddenly sneak out, YN. What do you take me for?"

"Ray, I was talking to your wife. You know, your equal, 50/50 partner and or other half that also gets a say in this household?"

Randy huffed but said nothing.

Karla thought for a moment. "Not here. Let's talk in the kitchen. Leave the door open. They like the hallway light…Especially after SOMEONE showed them Alien last week. Chad is convinced a creature is going to attack his face in the dark now…RANDY." She gave a side eyed glare at her husband.

Randy threw his hands up with a nervous smile. "Hey, now. Mindy demanded to watch it and I'm not denying my own daughter the pleasure of appreciating a good cinematic masterpiece with an excellent female role model, not to mention great storytelling, and the dying art of real life special effects. CGI everything nowadays; she loved the practical effects and engineering; she rarely sees it on tv anymore!...Chad loved it until that particular part where the xenomorph burst out of Kane's chest…In hindsight, I probably should have warned him. My bad..."

Karla tilted her head with a glare and a shake of her head. "I HIGHLY doubt he loved that boring ass movie." She gave him a look as he went to argue. "And don't try convincing me a 6 year old loved a damn movie where most of it is shot in a lab on a dark spaceship with scientific lingo. Just because they want to watch it doesn't mean they should."

"But he did!"

Karla shhed him.

"... He loved the sci-fi feel and he really liked the android until…Look, he'll be okay! I watched Motel Hell and Cujo at his age and I turned out fine! Look at me; Perfectly fine!" He gestured to himself.

You raised a brow. "That is extremely debatable."

Randy mumbled. "Well, Mindy liked it-"

"Melinda likes anything Randall likes. If she could wear your clothes and be your mini me; she would…Chad is sensitive to that stuff. He's not like his sister. He's-"

"Like his mother? You jumped into my lap and hid your face in my shirt halfway through our first horror movie together. It was that dumb remake of Amityville Horror, remember?" He gave with a mildly amused smirk.

"He's 6. Just leave the damn door open. We need to make sure we can check on them…You coming, YN?"

"Yeah. Just a moment." You said, watching the twins.

Karla smiled lightly and told you. "Okay. We'll be in the kitchen."

You nodded as you heard Randy whispering to Karla down the hall and she did the same to him as you just…Stood there a second. Taking in your two god children sleeping peacefully. Randy almost made Martha their god mother and Karla almost made her brother their godfather but both decided despite your flaws the kids needed someone that wasn't new to this survival thing just in case. They knew you knew how to survive and protect. It was agreed that if worse came to worse; all of you survivor's would come together to try and be a part of these kids' lives and you were first on the list. It helped that you made your own schedule for work now that freed you for taking care of kids more than Dewey or Gale or Martha…For a small moment in time…You couldn't help wondering 'what if?'. What if you did live a normal life or chose to live like Randy did? What if you had that domestic family life so many people wanted?…Then you remembered why they were sleeping in their parents' beds in the first place and you were grateful you didn't have kids with Derek or Mark or some random guy or hell even Randy, as crazy as it seemed now, had you both stayed together. Because the idea of worrying about kids in this situation terrified you as their adopted second aunt and or god mother. Let alone a parent.

You heard Randy talking a little louder and walked away to the kitchen where you saw Karla sitting down and Randy leaning back onto the counter.

You interrupted them to clear your throat. Awkwardly standing there as you asked. "So…Should I call up Gale to see if I can stay there or try and get a motel nearby or…?"

Karla thought a moment before sighing heavily and shaking her head. "No. I can't have that on my conscience. Besides, Randy's right. This is here…This bullshit is here and pushing you away won't make it disappear.  Besides, it's not fair to you." She leaned on the table with her arms folded in front of her. "I've been thinking…Maybe me and the kids should leave."

Randy focused on her, brows raising slightly as he softly asked.  "Leave?"

"Yeah. Not permanently, dumby. Just until this case gets solved…I know this might be a one time thing and we might not be in any danger but I'd like the option. Just have me and the twins go to my Mom and Dad's for a few days…Baby, can't you just leave too? Tell Dewey to get over it. Tell him there's a wedding, a funeral, anything!"

He hung his head. "I can't. The Woodsboro hall monitor would get me in detention and I won't be any good to you or the kids in jail. In fact, we'd be in even more danger because the killer always strikes when a person goes to jail. Besides, hypothetically …If we truly are dealing with a franchise starring a hyped up killer linking to all the past kills; where I go, the killer will probably follow. It happens every time." He shrugged. "YN and I are the survivors of this movie franchise along with Gale and Dewey. The only other potential victims are those linked to the original victims that died."

"Like Jill Roberts?" You commented.

He snapped his fingers at you and pointed. "Bingo. And just our luck, the newest Prescott lives across the street."

"God, not those stupid fucking rules, Randy!" Karla groaned.

"May I remind you, dear, that I lived through this a total of 3 times now and I've been right almost every single time?…Well, except Neil but I did say the past would bite us in the ass." He tilted his head and continued.  "So I think it's pretty obvious I can't go if that happens. I'm just as stuck here as YN."

Karla scoffed. "Then forget it! I'll just drop off the kids and-"

Randy held up a finger. "Ah, ah! We gotta be smart about this. You're smart with everything, now, hear me out and be smart here. We can't use our hearts over our heads in a horror movie...If something goes wrong; they need at least one parent. They need their Mother." He affirmed.

Karla went to argue with him for daring to even think that could happen.

You raised your hand with a wince, trying to get their attention as Karla stopped mid rant to stare at you. "U-Um, I hate to barge into this conversation but…Randy's right, Karla…I hate the idea of it but it's true. Plus, you have no ties to this killer other than me and Randy. If this was some guy with a trench coat and hook like the killer you faced? I'd tell Randy to take the kids instead, but right now, you and the twins don't need to be here…I really think you should get out with them while you can because the target will be me, Randy, Gale, Dewey and possibly Jill. The killer would only go after you to get to me and Randy. Or the kids-"

Randy sighed, seeming overstimulated with what you said as he ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, okay! We might be pushing it here! I'm glad we have a plan b but for now only 2 teen girls were killed and 2 teen girls got phone calls."

You leaned against the wall with a confused expression. "What are you saying exactly?"

"I'm saying, Karla might be right and this could just be an isolated incident. It might not have anything to do with us! I mean, not a single adult has gotten a call. You know teenagers. Obviously Jenny and her friend died last night but that doesn't mean these girls aren't just feeding into the Woodsboro propaganda…I say we hold tight until we get the big clue that we need to get you and the kids out of here. This is just talk for a plot that might not even happen."

"But, Randy. You just said!-"

"It's just talk, YN! That's all. Just in case of an emergency." Randy surmised before turning to Karla. "I think it's a wonderful idea to visit your folks for a surprise week-long getaway and if shit really does hit the fan…I say me and YN take the risk and sneak out. The killer will fuck up, get caught and we'd be in the clear anyways and Dewey can get over it…But till then, it's just talk! We're fine. We'll just hang tight, be normal for the kids and let this pass."

Karla gave a relieved smile and got up. "I am so glad you agree." She got up and kissed him on the cheek as he smiled at her.

You held a tight, forced smile. In the back of your mind you wanted to protest. To tell Randy he's in denial yet again and that he's just terrified of dealing with this again for the 4th time…But with Karla and the twins; you just didn't have the heart to argue.

Randy smiled and kissed her. Karla hummed in her throat and mumbled. "Love you, baby. I think I'm hitting the sack early tonight."

"Love you too. I'll be there later. I wanted to watch a movie or two with YN and catch up." His hand rested on the small of her back, lingering until she pulled away.

"That's fine but don't burn too much midnight oil. You still got work tomorrow. Night YN. Let me know if you need anything."

"Thanks, Karla. Goodnight." You gave with a soft voice and smile. Even if you wanted so badly to yell at them both to get a grip and look at this situation as realistically or borderline cynically as you were.

You watched her leave as Randy pushed himself from the counter. Rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. "Alright! Now that we don't have to watch a CGI talking dog; Campy classic or serious thriller? Or are you feeling like action or sci fi?"

"Surprise me."

—————————————————

You and Randy were in your nightclothes as you lounged on the couch and he sat in a recliner. You both just finished watching Idle Hands. Both of you laughing for most of it.

"God, I haven't seen this stupid shit in years." You chuckled while eating popcorn out of a bowl.

"I have. Just last week. I keep it circulating as my comfort movies after a long day...Kids do not watch this obviously and when Chad did see me watching it I changed it and he just thinks the guy has some serious Asthma problems." He raised his brows at you.

"Uh huh and what does Karla think of the very nice but unnecessary boob shot from that one girl dressed like Paul Stanley?"

"Ehh...I kind of skip that part if she's around.  She's probably fine with it and it could be softcore porn for foreplay but it could also be 'You're sleeping on the couch with the tape and tv since you seem so interested in them'. As nice as Kelly Monaco's are; they definitely are not the real thing. I'm not taking that chance."

You chuckled to yourself at that.

He gestured to the tv with huff. "I still don't see where you get calling me Seth Green. He's like 5'4, he could stare in the next Leprechaun movie if he wanted to! I'm 5'10 which is well above average."

You gawked. "You are so full of shit! You are not 5'10. 5'8 at the max."

"Uh, no I am not! I'm technically 5'9 and 3 quarters. THANK YOU. Besides, even if I was 5'8 that is still inches taller than Seth!"

You grinned at him. "...Yeah, I know. I just like to pester you." He threw a piece of popcorn at you and you tried to catch it in your mouth but failed. You laughed and continued. "Consider it payment for all those years of pestering me. The second I realized I was close to your height or taller with heels and it bothered you? Instant fuel. Doesn't help you and Seth had the same hair in Highschool and he always played geeky characters…I really think he should have been casted for you in Stab. Just saying."

He blew a puff of air out in annoyance. "Certainly be better than Christopher whats his face."

The end credits came on and you set your popcorn bowl on the table. He then got up to go to the cabinet he stored a few movies in. "ANYWAYS. How about we watch something we definitely haven't watched together in years with genuine rules to survive a horror movie as a refresher?-" He picked up Nightmare on Elm Street and shook the dvd with a raise of his brows. "Huh? Whaddya say?"

You hesitated. Almost saying yes until you remembered your preteen crush was in it. When you realized years later that your crush, Glen played by a very young Johnny Depp, looked so similar to Billy…Well, it wasn't exactly a comforting feeling.

"Uh, nah. We've seen it so much I kind of want something new. Wasn't there a remake last year?"

Randy's eyes narrowed and his face sagged into an unamused glare. "Do not even mention that piece of shit. It was a complete mockery of the franchise and!-"

You waved your hand with a chuckle. "Okay, okay! Don't wake up your wife and kids. Let's see. There's My Bloody Valentine. Oh, maybe the one that came out 2 years ago-"

Randy groaned with his head rolled back. "Urgh, you just want to watch it for that Supernatural guy." He imitated his deep voice. "Dean."

"Oh, like that's a crime now? You got to ogle at horror movie tits for how long but god forbid I want to look at pecks?...And there's Friday the 13th from 2 years ago, House of Wax, Texas Chainsaw Massacre. Jessica Alba is in that too. Rob Zombie's Halloween, Amityville Horror with Ryan Reynolds -"

He blinked repeatedly at you with a blank stare. "Yn, are you trying to make me have an aneurysm?"

"Those are good! Oh come on, Randy! What is wrong with reboots and remakes?"

"EVERYTHING!" He growled out in a comically dramatic way.

"House of wax had Paris Hilton, okay! The care that went into it is amazing! The way it was shot, the cast, the lore woven into the plot and Texas Chainsaw Massacre from 03 was scary with a great cast! And sorry, but Thomas Hewitt coming after me is a fucking hell of a lot scarier than Bubba Sawyer. It's a fun time; don't be an elitist horror snob."

"Hey, hey, hey! I am the farthest thing from a horror elitist, alright? I watched Society and Return of the Living Dead and Killer Klowns VERY enthusiastically. " He pointed on each finger while using his hands to talk. "But there's a difference between campy B list horror that doesn't take itself seriously and shitty remakes that touch the originals and try to scramble the plot just because some M Shyamalan thinks they can make it 'better' while completely disregarding the intent behind the original! They suit up the killers to be 7 feet tall and indestructible and either give them some bullshit tragic backstory that wasn't needed OR they make them crazier then what they were. It's insulting to long time horror fans! Like we need coddled into understanding why some cannibal hillbilly is the way he is. WHO FUCKING CARES!" He ranted before he sighed loudly. "Okay, some of those are not 'rip my eyes out bad' but the Nightmare on Elm Street remake? The worst. So bad I wish I could kick everybody's ass that was involved with that movie."

"Fair enough. Jeez." You gave him an amused smirk.

You settled down as he rummaged through DVD's. You couldn't help just saying it; the last few hours were the most interaction with a friend you've had in months. It slipped out with a sad smile. "I missed this…You know, me and you watching movies. Long talks. Goofing off. Sometimes Dewey and Gale coming over for game night. You and Gale screaming at each other over the game rules. Dewey trying to man the grill just for us to order pizza instead. Even me and Gale talking over coffee here and there…I miss it."

He turned towards you and smiled a bit. "Yeah. Life was simpler in our early 20's. Well, despite a crazed killer after us every few years…But other than that, yeah…What can we say? Responsibilities take hold and Adulting sucks and we're this much closer to realizing why our parents had mental breakdowns here and there."

"Yeah, it can…I know adulthood can take things away from us and make us busy but…How did we just…Slip away? " You sadly asked as his smile fell. "I mean, how do we go from seeing each other every single week for years on end to only seeing each other once or twice a year if we're lucky?"

He frowned, walking back over and sitting on the couch with you as you moved your legs. He stumbled over his words at first, mumbling. "I-...I-I don't know. Life, YN. We both got busy. Especially me before your book took off…I got with Karla and we went through the new relationship phase and not long after we found out the twins were coming and then a rushed wedding because Karla wanted to fit into a dress before her body went to hell...It did not, by the way, but she still insisted....And most of all her Pop's would have run my fucking neck that the eccentric white boy without a job at the time got his daughter knocked up without a proper wedding first. Have you seen her Dad? I'm scared of him a little bit to this very day plus her brother is 6'2 and pumps iron for fun. So...I can only run so fast for so long." He half laughed, half scoffed before shrugged. "I'm joking of course I was ready too! It just happened so fast and I didn't want to stay living with my parents forever with a new wife and kids. Honestly, we didn't have the room there for all of us. So I worked at the video store again and my old boss said 'Hey, wanna take this piece of crap off my hands?' and I said 'Sure!' So I went to the bank and thank god for Karla's good credit to get a loan…Got the video store, Karla got settled into her job coincidentally at the bank we got the loan from, got a mortgage here even though we didn't plan on staying at Woodsboro but it was steal and we couldn't pass it up, the kids went to daycare and now school and the book store was bought too…Life just…Whipped me upside the face the last 7 years."

You sighed to yourself. "...Yeah, I get it. It happens so quick too. One day I was alone in my cabin afraid to go to a movie theater by myself  next thing I know I'm on the big screen for interviews again and now book signings. Went from no one really knowing me outside of my name to everyone recognizing my face on the street...I guess life kicked my ass too this last decade."

"How? I mean, no offense but you're loaded and I'm barely making it by. I just saw you on Good Morning America a few weeks ago! I know the past sucks but you're doing pretty good for yourself now."

You debated saying anything, looking down as you slowly mumbled out. "I know it seems like that, Randy but…Truth is…I regret ever writing that stupid book sometimes." You shoved the blanket off of you to sit up further. "I just…Is it selfish to feel left out that everyone seemed to move on but me?" Randy's eyes scanned over you, brows slightly raising as he focused on you. You looked away a moment and continued. "I know it's hard for all of us…But deep down inside, I sort of envy you."

"Envy? Me?" He asked with a confused look.

"Yeah. Kind of. I envy you living a normal life with your normal spouse and happy family and being able to be a normal part of the world for the most part. I envy Karla too and Dewey and Gale…All of you went through Hell but you still found a way to move back to a town that the trauma happened in and you got over it and-"

He held up a hand. "Woah. Woah, there. My life is not as normal as you think it is, YN. Just last week, I had a panic attack in the book store's bathroom because I got startled. I felt pathetic that as a grown man I was breathing into a bag close to pissing myself over the cat knocking something over. It was so fucking random too! Half the time; I'm fine but for whatever reason this one particular thing triggered me. I run past closed doors on cars and buildings because I'm terrified I'm going to get attacked again. I flinch with loud noises just like you do. I have to take so many pain relievers at such a young age it makes me feel like I'm 70! Okay, I'm not normal."

"I know that it's more…Emotional. I'm not trying to compare; I know we all have our scars to bare. Believe me, I was there with you in recovery. I know. " He gave a sad smile, remembering you both dating sometime after he was released from the hospital and could barely walk. You sighed and went on to say "…But you have someone. That fear you had of not getting anyone after Sidney and then after me is gone. My last chance died in front of me, Randy." He frowned at you as you continued. "I can't trust people, Ray. I couldn't even walk into this stupid town without an angry mob forming let alone making a connection. I came here and two girls got murdered and I'm apparently... The Angel of Death." You choked out. "Gale gets to be the retired reporter and Dewey gets to be the hero Sheriff and you get to be the average guy with a loving family…" You stared at him, locking eyes as you drew out with a heavy heart. "But me? I'll always be the Final Girl and the Victim and the Suspect for the rest of my life. No one wants that. No one wants to befriend that. No one wants to even be around that! I should be grateful you even still associate with me since you quintessentially moving on with life past being just a survivor."

"YN…" He softly sighed out.

"Sometimes…Sometimes I seriously wonder if the trauma was what held us all together for so long because we were scared of befriending new people. Now that you and Dewey were lucky enough to be over your traumatic past just enough to make friends and get partners and normal jobs…I get left behind. Because I'm not over it. I'll probably never be over it. We all were targeted but I was the main target. From both the media and the killers."

He scooted closer, your knees touching as he shook his head. "I don't believe that for a second. YN, we just grew up! That's all." He tried reassuring you but deep down inside you knew better. He fumbled but told you. "Maybe you are hanging onto the trauma and you gotta ease up a bit? You can't isolate yourself forever, YN. It's not healthy or human. Trust me; I was a lonely geek most of my life turned recluse myself after what happened and I'm living proof it gets better!" He hesitated but said it anyways. "And…I know Mark's death hurt you. You've never been the same since Hollywood." He frowned and swallowed as you looked at him. "You really closed yourself off after Neil and Roman and Angelina. After you had to face off with them alone…I still can't beileve that I almost lost you and I couldn't do anything about it. I mean, damn! It's no wonder you seemed depressed and scared after going through that and I don't think you ever fully recovered...Who would? I hate that for you and sometimes I feel so goddamn guilty moving on but I just…I couldn't stay in the dark with you. I couldn't deal with my best friend losing herself so I went to that survivors meeting for my own sake and unwittingly met Karla and the rest is history. And I don't regret it, YN. "

"Randy, I never damned you for moving on. Never! You deserve this life and to be happy!… I just wish I could join you. All of you."

"You can! You gotta find the light, I mean…Isn't that what your book's all about?"

You released a bitter chuckle and hung your head. "Oh fuck, Ray. I didn't even write it."

He blinked repeatedly. "What?" He shook his head. "W-What do you mean?"

"Yeah. Rebecca found me after she found my pen name and connected the dots of who I really was. Convinced me to write a self help book that she had me edit so much the words weren't even mine anymore."

"You wrote other books?? Why didn't you tell me?"

You looked down and wrung the blanket in your hands. "Because I was embarrassed. They did badly and the idea of people I know reading my books makes me want to crawl in a hole and die, to be honest."

He shook his head, looking away a second in thought. "Wait…So, all of this-"

"Is bullshit. The hair, the clothes, the perfect smile and Martha Stewart attitude and motivational talk…It's all bullshit I've been coached on by Rebecca's team to get the most bang for their buck. " You shrugged with a numb monotone voice. "I'm basically a walking money maker for my publicist. I go to hotels alone after every event, get used by fame seeking money hungry media types, sometimes I'm lucky enough to go home and be with Cherri for a few days. I get so desperate I sometimes like Rebecca as company. " You hung your head, a humorless chuckle escaping you again as Randy stared.

"Jesus YN, I had no idea. You could've called! For Christ sakes, why didn't you try to talk to me about all this!"

You looked up at him. "Randy, I have. Every phone call we've had the last few months has been me calling you. I feel like a burden, Ray! I mean, seriously. How can I complain when I'm driving new cars and staying at penthouses between book signings and interviews meanwhile you're a struggling middle class guy just trying to provide for his family? I feel shitty talking about it now!"

"You are NOT a burden. I told you, life-"

You lightly smacked your hands together in frustration. "Gets busy, I know! I'm not damning you, okay? But I just needed to vent that my life isn't glamorous like you or anyone else thinks it is… I'd give every last bit of it up for it to be '99 again. Eating crappy spaghetti in my new modest cabin I just bought and me, you and Dewey having dinner and laughing at my kitchen table like we used to…" You ran a hand over your head. "I just hate feeling like this! I'm so happy for you and Karla and I love those kids so much. It's just the feeling of being left out of a life I should be able to live if it wasn't for society thinking I'm still a fucking murderer sucks ass. Maybe I'd like to be able to go walk on a street without fear. That I could go grocery shopping without stares or have a partner I didn't have to worry about being a killer or potential victim or have more friends and go out without a panic attack or threat on my life. I wish so badly I could be fucking normalish and move on the way everyone else seems to... I want that stupid pseudo-quasi happy existence."

Randy eased closer to you as you leaned your elbows on your knees. He hesitated before saying. "Well, YN. Maybe you should try again? Try to go to meetings like I did! I mean, Christ. You're an attractive woman in her prime that's now America's Sweetheart. You can't tell me you couldn't find someone...I know you can! I mean, if Mark existed or Derek or…Or just make another friend! I won't get too jealous. Now, if he's some movie expert that you're taking to the cinema with and saw movies I haven't seen yet I MAY get a little bit territorial over our friendship. I was here first. I'll always be friend number one, alright?" He nudged your shoulder with his and you tried to force a smirk as best you could as he kept talking. "You have a gun and self defense skills and most of all it's been a decade since the last killer attacked, and no; I'm not counting what happened today. We have no idea! It could be one of those protesters that killed those girls just trying to frame you or just regular jealous boyfriend teen drama murder that happens in every town at least once. For all you know, you could be wasting your youth terrified of something that will never happen again!"

You sighed heavily, knowing he was just trying to help but he just didn't get it. He could try but he still didn't understand…Especially with your secret.

"Yeah." You simply gave. You looked over at him. "So…Maybe you should do the same with work."

"Huh?" He muttered as you leaned on the back of the couch.

"Movies. Specifically, Hollywood…Randy, you don't belong here. Dewey belongs here but you don't and I think you know it. I know you love your family and wife but you are this close to being one of those miserable middle aged men in 20 years pissed off they still have to work their ass off while having barely any money and are bitter at their wife and kids as the source of why they had to work so hard and therefore why they're unhappy when really it was because they got suckered into thinking they needed a conventional life that hasn't worked since like 1970 with too many responsibilities to even think of being happy."

He rolled his eyes. "Oh please-"

"I'm serious." You stated with a look his way. "You said it yourself; the video store won't be a thing for long and how well will the book store go especially when your heart isn't in it? I know I'm being a hypocrite right now preaching about doing what you love and I know I have the money to do it if I wanted to and you don't. Okay, I know my financial privileges but. …You went to college for film! You know what makes a movie a piece of art. Use that knowledge, Ray....Go to Hollywood. Apply for some positions, and before long, maybe I'll see your name at an awards ceremony next to Wes Craven, James Cameron, John Carpenter or Sam Raimi."

He gave a soft huff with a smirk and eyeroll. "Yeah, I bet."

"What? Too scared? Can't move out of your comfort zone to be a failure while you're preaching to me to move out of my comfort zone with my life on the line instead?"

He gave you a dumbfounded look. "I can't just pack up and leave! That's easy for you, not me."

"Oh, I thought you were 32 not 72."

"YN, I have responsibilities here!"

"Responsibilities that can take a vacation until you decide for real…You own both places, Randy. Besides, Hollywood is 2 hour drive from here; max. So technically, if you had to, you could just drive back and forth until then. Karla has mentioned to me multiple times she wouldn't mind moving someplace with more to do than Woodsboro. "

He paused at that. "Really?"

"Yes." You nodded with raised brows.

"Well…I do feel guilty sometimes that she doesn't have more. She went back to college for finance and ended up married to a loser trying to make a dream happen that's been retired since the 90's."

"But it is there, Ray! You're just thinking too small with a video store or movie house when you could be helping make the fucking movies! Okay, Mindy and Chad probably wouldn't even remember this place if you moved. You could still not move at all if it works out." You sat up and put your hand out in front of you as you put a hand behind him on the couch. "Picture it, Randy. Doing something you love, something you're good at, something that could change your life and have you all never struggle again…And all you have to do is take the damn chance. You live in California, for fucksakes! It's not like you're traveling clear from Vermont for your big break. I just hate seeing you struggle and you're too stubborn to accept money from me.. So why not? Especially while you're still young."

Randy thought a moment before getting up and shaking his head with a bemused grin. "Yeah, sorry but I think that dream went out the window last time we went there. I'll manage. You on the other hand really need to take your own advice and take the chance."

You took in a breath and leaned back. "Yeah, fine. Maybe I'll try a survivors' meeting."

"Thank you!" He sarcastically announced. "Certainly beats being lonely or gardening as a hobby. Seriously, when are you going to line up and fill that stupid hole you claim is going to be a pond in your backyard?"

"Someday maybe." You smiled to yourself. 

He shrugged to himself and wondered aloud. "So…Maybe when this is over; me and Karla and the kids-" You frowned knowing they'd never find the time. He must have noticed and corrected himself. "Or just me and you can go do something. I GUESS Gale can come too. God knows Dewey won't."

"Are you still mad at him?"

"Aren't you? You should be at home right now. Fuck, we all should be there with you for a weekend long visit and instead we're forced here because he got a bigger badge and a vote and has to play the part now."

"Randy…You know Dewey's got to be lawful now. It's kind of part of the job."

"Yeah, I fucking know…Still annoying as hell and the start of every horror movie WHICH THIS MAY NOT BE!" He hissed out before you could argue. You faltered and closed your mouth with a huff. You saw him stifle a yawn before he said. "Anyways, we don't know anything yet. Here's to hoping we continue our normalish existence, try to make time for each other more and the only horror is coming to theaters this November after Bella had that kid named Resume."

"Seriously. I think you're secretly a fan and you just can't admit it."

"Am not."

"Wow, 5 year old arguments always win."

"Fuck you." He laughed out before yawning again.

You smiled and pointed behind him. "Go to bed, old man. You have big boy responsibilities now and need sleep. Gone are the days of your youth staying up till 5 and sleeping till 3."

"I'm not old, I work. Some of us have JOBS."

You made a mocking 'ooh' noise before retorting. "Don't be mad I worked smarter and more miserably and sold my soul to one of Satan's minions aka Rebecca Walters…BUT I can stay up an hour or two later than you, so there."

Randy laughed as you grinned at him. He waved you away. "Alright, watch whatever you want. You don't need me to tuck you in. Goodnight."

"Night." You watched him leave before switching on the regular cable and laying back on the couch with a blanket and pillow Karla gave you.

He came back in, rushing over to the front door to make sure it was locked. You raised an amused brow and he held up his hands defensively replying. "Hey, I'm not saying it's happening again…But you can't be too careful."

"Got it. I'll be on nightwatch. Goodnight Randy."

He saluted you as you playfully rolled your eyes and turned back to the tv.

A good 15 minutes went by. You weren't even watching anything. It was 11:45 at night and you were just thinking on that couch…

'...I know I should call them but maybe I don't have to? We don't know anything yet. Then again, we kind of do and Randy's just in denial like always.' You released a puff of air past your lips. 'Maybe he's right? Maybe I'm letting all of this eat at me for way too long. I have the money and means to go live anywhere I want! Maybe…Maybe I should? Randy isn't able to have the time to come see me and I'm not a fan of going to see him in this town. Dewey is busy as Sheriff…Gale is just Gale. When Randy isn't busy, Karla's busy. So why hang around in isolation when I'm not happy?...Stu hasn't came by in over a decade…Maybe…Maybe I'm scared if I leave he'll never find-'

You jolted at the thought. Refusing to even entertain the idea you were staying and waiting for those two.

You groaned and turned the tv off, jerking to turn to face the couch with a grumble. 'God, you need to get a grip. Go join pottery or something. Make a acquaintance at least.'

You went to lay down but caught sight of something between the curtains through the window above the couch. You sat up and pried the curtain back to see no cops in the cop car out front.

'Huh…That's weird.'

You sat up, staring out the window a second before thinking. '...You know what? It's fine. A normal person would ignore it. Let the cops handle it.'

But right when you went to put the curtain back down; you saw across the street Jill and Kirby crying and frantically banging on their window. Your stomach sank as you got your gun out of the lock box you had laying next to the couch. You loaded and called out. "Randy! Randy, somethings happening-" Hoping he'd be awake before you heard Jill and Kirby scream even from inside the house.

'Shit.' You got your gun and went outside, hoping to see the cops but they weren't there. All you heard were two teen girls screaming in terror and a pained scream coming from across the street. No shoes, gun in hand, pajamas on, you got your gun in position and ran towards the house. Jill and Kirby ran outside onto the street, screaming and crying while pointing to the house.

"What? What's happening-"

"YN, he's got Olivia! He's got her!" Kirby exclaimed as Jill gripped onto her. You looked up to see the teenager's body dangling from the side window upstairs as it was dragged back inside. Blood smearing down the siding as you felt like the wind was knocked out of you just watching. Your gut sinking as you saw her fingers try to weakly grab the window…She was still alive. "Fuck…" You whispered with a shaky voice before cocking your gun and yelling at Jill and Kirby. "Stay together and find the cops! Hurry! Don't come into the house no matter what!"

You ran up the porch steps and rushed to the door, trying the handle to see it was locked. You tried breaking it in with your foot but without your boots on it was difficult. You didn't want to waste the bullets so instead you tried to think fast. Grabbing a nearby flower pot instead and shattering the glass on the door before reaching in to unlock it. You didn't hesitate to rush upstairs and try to find her room…Stopping dead in your tracks as you saw blood stains under your feet…Going down the stairs. You almost followed them but you had to check her room first. The second you entered; you felt your knees buckle at the blood soaking her bed, splattered over the walls and her innocent posters and pictures painted with red streaks. You gagged softly, covering your mouth as that overly pungent metallic scent hit your nose. You looked around, gun aimed as you saw the room fully. It made Maureen's murder you witnessed on set in Hollywood look like child's play.

No Ghostface…But even more concerning…Where was the girl?

You went to run out, follow the blood streaking down the stairs to its source but stopped as a ringing sounded in the room. A phone ran on her dresser and you glared at it. It was Olivia's phone right next to her hairbrush… You instantly grabbed it and answered with a growl. "What?"

"Welcome home, YN. Preview of coming events."

You kept yourself guarded, anger welling up inside you this was happening again and innocent kids had to die all because yet another attention whore was desperate to be the next Billy and Stu.

"Why don't you come for me? Think you have the balls for that?" You demanded, gun still aimed in your right hand. Your middle finger was stiff but the trigger finger and other two worked just fine. "Come on out, you fucking pussy ass bitch."

"Oh poor YN; you still think this is about you. You still think you're the star."

"That's because I am. You wouldn't be doing this if I hadn't arrived in Woodsboro. You clearly want my attention. "

"Just so I can watch the old, burnt out star crash to Earth. You're just the audience to act 2. This is where the plot starts to thicken-"

"This isn't a fucking movie!"

"It will be."

"You're not getting away with this. These are innocent people-"

"Spare me the lecture!" The voice yelled before continuing. The persons disguised voice almost purring out the insults with some sadistic glee. "You've done very well by all this bloodshed, haven't you? How about the town you left behind? The people you left behind?...I've got plans for you. I'm gonna slit your eyelids in half so you don't blink when I stab you in the face."

You sneered, gun raised as you looked around the room.

"You'll die when I want you to, YN. Not a moment before. Until then, you're going to suffer."

You scoffed to yourself before hanging up. Hearing Jill call your name downstairs.

"Jill?" You rushed over to stop her from entering the room. "Stay right there! I told you not to come in here!"

"Where's Olivia? Where is she?!" Jill urged, trying to look past you into the room.

"I don't know. Do not look, okay?" You demanded, blocking the doorway.

Jill stepped back and shook her head at you. Tears in her eyes as she gave you an accusing stare. "She said you were The Angel of Death…"

You didn't have time to react or say anything as a Ghostface came out of the closet and went to stab Jill. You whipped her to the side and the knife sliced her forearm as she tumbled down the stairs. Clutching her arm in horror as the killer grabbed you and slammed you against a wall. You brought your gun up to shoot them in the head and they went backwards down the stairs with your shirt clutched between their gloved hand. Flinging you both off the steps and tumbling down to the landing where Jill was.

You hit the ground with a thud while Ghostface scrambled away from you. Kicking your gun out of your grip. You realized and panic set in as you frantically tried looking for it. All while Jill just screamed and got out of the way. Ghostface went to stab you. You were still down on the ground before you kicked them in the head as hard as you could from the landing you laid on. It sent them tumbling down the last flight of steps and crashed on the floor.

"Jill, my gun! Help me!"

You weren't going to hesitate to shoot this fucker right between the eyes and end this. Jill trembled, trying to look around.

You saw an officer charge inside as you yelled at him. "The killers here!"

You finally found your gun on the floor a few feet from Jill. You quickly got it and pointed with your free hand.

"Where is he?" The officer asked. His badge read 'Perkins'.

You turned to point. "Right there-...." Freezing when there was nothing but an empty spot. The backdoor was wide open. You turned back. "H-He was."

Perkins spoke into a walkie as he went to the backdoor.

You turned back to Jill who held her arm, glaring at you with tears in her eyes as you went to ask if she was okay. She shook her head. "Don't."

You stared in shock at her as she slid down the wall. You simply turned away and went outside past a boy you've never met as he rushed by you to comfort her.

You walked out, a few neighbors lights were on as you looked back at the house and had to do a double take. It felt like your heart was sinking deeper and deeper as your heartbeat thumped in your ears. Slowly turning back around to see if what you thought you saw was true…Your face dropped, staring in complete horror before you quickly clamped your hand over your mouth…Flashbacks from that party filtered your brain as her hair hung down and her arms dripped blood to her fingertips. The sickening pattering on the cement underneath her was a reminder of your deceased best friend from 15 years ago…. There was Olivia's corpse. Guts hanging, shoulder at an odd angle and body limp. Shoved through the lifted garage doors pet door.

You stared, knees buckling as you sank to the ground. Staring at the scene as you heard Randy. He ran across the street, trying to put on shoes as he ran.

"YN! WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON?! WHY ARE YOU HERE?-....Oh fuck." His mouth fell as he stopped dead in his tracks. The same terrified expression on his face that you had as well.

Police sirens sounded down the block as Kirby, Jill and that boy came out. Kirby clutched her mouth and gagged when she saw it as Jill released a sob. The boy you surmised was her boyfriend held her close and took her away from the scene.

Randy helped you stand. "Are you hurt? Are you okay? Why were you in there YN?!... Where's the killer?" He put his hands on your shoulders as you closed your eyes and nodded. "F-Fine. I'm fine…The killer escaped." You swallowed and looked at him. "Get Karla and the kids out of this fucking town by sunrise." He furiously nodded, as you both turned back around to stare at the teenager's corpse. A giant warning and reminder of your past coming back to haunt you.

'...I think it's time to make that phone call.'

[lokiinmediasideblog]

On "Lady Loki" PSA: You mean Loki being Femme?

“Lady Loki” is NOT Loki being genderfluid. The name is a mixture of “Lady Sif” (because Sif’s title is “Lady” like “Lord”) and “Loki” because Loki stole Sif’s body after Ragnarok ensued, and trapped her in a dying old lady’s body. Loki first shows up possessing Sif’s body in Thor Vol. 3 # 5 back in 2007. Loki continued to use male pronouns in Sif’s body, but just gets misgendered by everyone else. And as much as I love aspects of Loki’s characterization in that era, having that plotline in this political climate would be awful, incredibly damaging, and way more problematic than anything the Loki show gets accused of. I need people to know what the fuck they’re talking about before they refer to wanting "Lady Loki" in the Loki show because this is what you're talking about.

I will be open and say I am not a fan of much of the majority of Thor comics. They are fucking annoying and read like some Gary Stu male fantasy because they’re always going off about how Thor is the fucking best and his plot armor makes him the only and best choice to be Asgard’s ruler despite there being other characters with similar qualities in Asgard but Thor’s “just better”. The misogyny is off the charts in these with all the ridiculously and impractically scantily clad “warrior” women that all want to fuck Thor and have little personality past that. I also loathe the “Loki’s just evil” crap. My fascination with them is more like gawking and wanting to be pissed off. Plus, I find pre-reincarnation Marvel comics!Loki to be a fascinating study of a Comics Code Authority/Hayes code era villain (and I kinda root for him because the narrative annoys me). He’s up there with all the Disney villains despite not originally being Disney.

In those pre-reincarnation comics that often piss me off, Loki is meant to evoke disgust and to “disturb” through his failure to be the epitome of manliness. Marvel has tried to distance themselves from that once they had their “Are we the baddies?” epiphany by retconning Asgard to be more progressive. It kinda annoys me because panels exist where they’re being queerphobic to Loki. To me, it’d feel more organic if Asgard was shown going through societal change rather than “We have always been progressive, what the fuck are you talking about?” But that's just me.

I remember when Loki was about to come out as bisexual in the comics on 2013 after becoming very popular largely due to Tom Hiddleston’s Loki (Young Avengers #13 where he flirts with Prodigy, followed by Agent of Asgard revealing he's a genderfluid shapeshifter in 2014), queer organizations expressed concern over the whole “queer-coded villain á la Buffalo Bill from Silence of the Lambs.” If you are not familiar with Buffalo Bill, he is the main antagonist from Thomas Harris’s very copagandic and transphobic book, Silence of The Lambs, the book with Hannibal Lecter (played by Anthony Hopkins who plays MCU!Odin lol) where he’s like “I ate his liver with some fava beans and a nice chianti. T-sss-tsss-tss.”

Buffalo Bill is said to not be a “real transgender”, whatever the fuck that means especially with all the policing around bodily autonomy, and some statistic about how transgenders are the least likely to be violent is shoehorned in, but everything about the character ends up being a queerphobic trope. The “difference” is that Jame Gumb “thinks” he wants to be a woman but doesn’t actually want to be (the transphobia in this book is off the charts).

I am glad Loki has gotten redemption arcs of sorts, because a lot of the tropes employed on comics!Loki just pissed me off. And I am glad MCU!Loki never went through the transphobic possession storyline in the name of being "comics-accurate".

The easiest way to represent genderfluidity in the MCU with a casting choice that predates Loki's coming out in comics would be through dialogue in the magic-less TVA. Have Loki say that her pronouns are she/her while looking the same because people can't shapeshift in real life.

I think if they ever adapt the Agent of Asgard thing (with a new actor), the casted actor should be genderqueer. Tom Hiddleston gets a pass because Loki was not genderqueer yet when he was casted and in 3 movies already (and he was playing the pre-JiM (2011) Loki), but the new one should be.

[devilsons]

TO DO: BITE THE HAND THAT FEEDS ME

PERSONAL DETAILS

NAME... archibald adams

NICKNAMES / OTHER NOTABLE... leech, archie, canis, bloodhound, hanging man's cannon fodder, fucked up little freak ( by enemies and friends alike )

PRONOUNS... he / him / his

AGE... twenty-eight

BIRTHDAY... july 2nd

STAR SIGN... cancer

SEXUALITY... bisexual / greyromantic

ALIGNMENT... chaotic neutral

PERSONALITY TYPE... enfp-t, the campaigner

ENNEAGRAM... type six, the loyalist

FAMILY... diane adams ( mother ), douglas redacted ( father, estranged / possibly deceased )

INFLUENCES... tyler durden ( fight club ), jesse pinkman ( breaking bad ), the priest ( fleabag ), denji ( chainsaw man ), stu macher ( scream ), luke crain ( the haunting of hill house ), b-rabbit ( 8 mile ), steve-o ( real person but essential to his makeup, also jackass )

SUBSTANCE

a turbulent jester; wicked smile, swinging switchblade, obedient dog. he thrashes wildly between carefully collected chaos and teetering over into the deep end. substance abuse paired with bipolar disorder make him hard to gauge and even harder to communicate with. he is one of two things at all times; trapped somewhere between mischievously playing the fool and a poorly restrained bloodhound, snarling and drooling, red ichor spilled wet between fangs.

APPEARANCE DETAILS

HAIR... kept short, dyed a yellowish blonde often with grown out dark brown roots

EYES... deep brown, almost black, swallow light whole

BUILD... lean and lanky but packed with power, akin to a stray dog.

HEIGHT... 6'3"

NOTABLE MARKS... heavily tattooed from the neck down, arms and hands peppered with small scars. heavier scarring on his back and torso in long slashes, bullet hole in his right shoulder. foul play. always bringing a knife to a gun fight.

USUAL COUNTENANCE... grey / purple tinted under eye bags, prone to a bloody nose, sallow skin, surprisingly pretty straight, white smile

BIOGRAPHY( tw : // drug abuse, drug use, violence, neglect )

he was unleashed into a single bedroom apartment in queens; dingy furniture and a smoke screen, walls stained yellow and black, the air toxic in the form of mold and second-hand inhalation. he was just a child, his mother passing her sickness onto him and a father he'd never met, a name he'd never heard. he were raised on ruthlessness, survival, and necessity. he was never the most important thing to his poor mother, her illness always drawing her attention to other places, but even still, she’d always loved him. he wasn’t given the right to an easy life, primarily taking care of himself since he'd learned to walk and talk, and then by age ten taking care of their mother too at times. in the early years of his life he was a prodigy, infatuated with math and science and all things technology. the rise of the android had scarcely begun in those days, and he had no way of telling the technological advancements the city would soon make, or the dangers that would come with it. but this wouldn’t happen for years, by the time the first android walks among the city without the repulsion of the uncanny valley he would have long abandoned such passions, blood stained under his fingernails as he disguises himself as a goon.

first, he was a boy. thick-framed glasses and baggy clothes, a wide, child-like stare hardened into stone long before it began to soften once again. by fifteen he’d drawn blood for the first time with intention and brutality, a street scuffle between children verging on adulthood, the endless abyss between life forms, the open wound of youth taking over the rage of hormones; stand tall, defend what is yours. he walked away with shaking hands and hurried breath, footsteps pounding as he ran from the scene. it was just one slice of skin, a thin trickle of blood, not his first sight of its smear but the beginning of a new era. it took time before he grew a taste for violence, the initial promise of it making him sick, then in turn making him cold. he lost the passions he had, the innocence, for a time, becoming a machine built only for waking to see the next day. it took time to learn how to cope with this lifestyle, picked off the streets to run petty work by seventeen, no longer a boy but not yet a man; drops, pick ups, simple work ( illegal work ) to make the money to feed himself and his mother, to clean her off the floor a couple times a week. frailty turned into muscle and hardened stature, fear turned to mirth, mirth turned to humor.

soon small jobs became a full initiation, then they put a gun in one hand and a knife in the other. it was around this time he fell victim to the family habits, the drugs helping the mix of violence and hilarity, stoking it’s flames, creating a new persona out of the ashes of his history. he was a wild card; he was the one sent to do the things nobody else wanted to do, a butcher with a complete detachment from humanity, delivered with a fools wide grin and a quip readied at the back of his tongue. the hanging man destroyed him, but gave him a purpose, a twisted found family with the bitter nickname slipping past everyone’s lips, one he’d gained from days gone of pickpocketing and sucking the blood, so to speak, from businessmen and gangsters, “leech.” he embodied this, if nothing else to feel a sense of purpose, to feel needed. he was at best a glorified henchman, but his immense loyalty and perfectly grey morality made him essential, irreplaceable. he would do anything they asked between bouts of debauchery and recklessness, detriment balanced perfectly with chaos, unbridled destruction.

now he stays in his own apartment after having taken ownership of the bad monkey bar, visiting his mother every so often if only to check her pulse. he spends days outside of business indulging in drugs, alcohol, and other means of hedonism, his phone always close by. he’s most often found in clubs and bars, shrouded in smoke with an easy posture and a wide smile, bruised knuckles holding a drink in one and a cigarette in the other. don’t be nervous, his bark as loud as his bite is lethal, remains usually silent; a trained doberman with its tongue lolling out of its mouth, head cocked and lips pulled back in the image of a grin; only dangerous when his owner dangles a treat and says ‘devastate.’  

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[sharpth1ng]

hey btw, i know its not shown in the movie, not in detail i mean (that i remember of course) but what do you think was sid’s reaction to tatum dying?

unless thats something you’re planning on writing in the future ofc

Sid sees Tatums body just after she falls off the roof during the chase sequence. She does look absolutely horrified but she sort of has to run away immediately, so the movie doesn't get to spend much time on it.

I think Sid would be fucking devastated though. My personal hc for her and Tatum is that they've known each other a really long time, like we can see from the movie that Tatum is who she feels the safest and most comfortable with, and now she's lost that person.

If we're going with movie canon, she's lost pretty much everyone but her father. I think this is partly why she ends up so close to Dewey. It's obvious he's a sweet guy but I also think their mutual grief about Tatum probably bonded them. I think Sid would really appreciate having someone to share memories with, I can totally see her sitting with Tatum's mom and going through old pictures and stuff too, and I think that process would be really hard for her.

I also hc that Sid already has feelings for Tatum during the events of the movie and she's just not processing or recognizing them yet. It's that weird kind of love you have for your best friend before you realize you're actually really gay for them, so you just rationalize it away as friendship. I think that her real feelings for Tatum would come up in the mourning process, and that would make it extra hard because she would never have a chance to tell her.

Second to the tragedy of that loss is absolute rage, which we definitely see in the movie. She's absolutely furious when she realizes what's happened. I think she would be mad at Billy for killing Tatum for sure, but I think she might almost be more angry at Stu, who was supposed to have feelings for Tatum and let that happen to her anyways.

I'm not going to comment too much about how any of this would be different for Debaser though, it might be a little spoilery and I want to keep that under wraps.