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msookyspooky · 30 days

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Fours a Franchise

Part 13

wordcount:9k

[I have been combing over this sm bc like...Yeah. There's no coming back from this one PLUS matching it with the next chapter that I already have done just doing the same to it. Sorry for the wait and emotional damage! 😁🖤 Just making sure it all lines up with the plot. Thank you!! 🖤🖤🖤 BTW this starts with Jill's POV, Dewey, Jill, Gale, YN, then Dewey, then YN again in case it's confusing since it's in second person still.]

Jill got off the table stumbling while trying to catch herself. She had to get this just right.

Shards of glass littered on her before she staggering in her high heeled boots over to where your body lay. Silence other than her heels scuffling over the tile as she stepped over Trevor's body to get to you. Not caring about the boy that supposedly 'loved' her. Hell, she sicked Charlie on that bottle blonde whore Trevor was cheating on her with and her friend too. Made it look like Steven Oarth and Casey Becker from 96. And Jill laughed her ass off too when she saw the video Charlie shot of Jenny gutted. Some people get revenge for cheating by keying a car and ripping seats...Jill got it by killing the other girl, her collateral friend and ripping Trevor's face off. Well making her pawn Charlie do it, to be precise.

Blood dripped down her face with her breathing labored as she stepped over Trevor's mangled upper body; Eager to get to you. Had to make it look good.

...As soon as she saw Billy and you too close; She kicked him as hard as she could, the best she could, out of the way. Couldn't have him looking too nice to us. Not yet.

He released a pained groan; Half conscious as he rolled over. Coughing and falling limp again a foot away all before Jill collapsed where he was with your unmoving form. She stared at you on the ground nose to nose just inches away. Studying you up close like she had in pictures so many times. Almost holding your hand as sirens sounded down the street. Closing her eyes and letting being sliced, stabbed and hurled into objects by her own doing finally take her.

-----------

Dewey all but slammed on his breaks in the yard and rushed to the scene. Gun drawn frantically yelling out orders, "Come on! Move it!"

A neighbor had finally called hearing the commotion. Dewey made a u-turn on the highway and got here as soon as he could.

He unknowingly rushed to the scene, heart pounding after everything tonight. His wife almost getting killed, Randy dying so cruelly and the call with you trying to leave town.

But as soon as he entered ...His heart sank at the scene of the crime.

He should've known. Knew you would try and do this yourself. Why did you always do this? Why did you always act alone? Why did you either run away or run towards the danger?

Seeing you face down on the floor in a pool of blood made his heart plummet.

"Oh God no..." Dewey mumbled getting closer.

In his eyes, Jill's hand was on yours for comfort. Both of you tried to protect each other till the very end as far as he could see.

Judy gave orders to the other officers as second in command while Dewey got closer to you.

He didn't even see you breathing from here. He took in the sight...A boy with his face peeled off bound on the floor. A body sizzling in a leaf pile outside. Two men he didn't recognize bleeding everywhere. The whole house is a wreck...And you and Jill in pools of blood close to each other.

"Dear God..." It was 1996 all over again. This felt more brutal than the last two times. Whoever did this was sick. Absolutely as demented as Billy and Stu to do the things they've done here tonight.

And to you...You and Randy tonight...

It was almost as bad as finding Tatum so long ago. The party at the Macher house in general. And even then, this felt like a never ending nightmare tonight. Non-stop horror that got worse every hour.

He failed. Two deputies under his command are dead. Randy and you died tonight under his watch. His wife he should've protected was in surgery. He failed all of you...He failed Tatum, Sidney, Randy, Gale and now you...

Dewey felt tears trying to burn his brown eyes as his guts twisted into guilt ridden knots. His face red from the strain of trying to keep it together as Judy looked shocked at the crime scene. Peeking over his shoulder but covered it with a pokerface to keep doing her job.

He motioned for EMT'S to come in as some officers helped cheek bodies or load people up. Jill was the first to 'wake up'. Asking in an innocent voice like any scared teen girl in this situation. "W-What happened? Are they dead? D-Don't let them hurt me or YN-" She weakly gave as EMT's checked over her, getting her on a stretcher. That just broke Dewey's heart.

He took off his hat out of respect for you and hung his head. Releasing a shaky sigh before leaving the house. He had to. He subtly went out the broken backdoor as tears threatened to spill. Biting his lip and running a hand over his hair.

Jill was already knocked out again and wheeled into an ambulance out the front door.

He failed. He felt like he failed everyone. He became a cop again to help, became Sheriff to make sure this never happened in this town again...And because of following the law and forgetting who he was as a man; Putting that badge before his own common sense... He failed. Randy and you were dead. Two kids he swore to protect like he couldn't his little sister. All grown up and yet still so young. You and Randy just entered your 30's and now you were gone right when your lives were truly starting after so much trauma.

"Sir?" Judy stepped outside asking him softly as he sniffed and waved her off.

"I'm fine, Deputy. Just give me a minute."

Suddenly, they all turned to hear an EMT yell out from the kitchen. Right after Jill went out on a stretcher so it only meant one thing. "We have a survivor! Female!"

And a small twinge of hope that soared like a rocket ran through him...You were alive!

-----------

Jill woke up to blinding lights and so many microphones and questions and people calling her name as she was wheeled into the hospital. An awestruck relieved smile painted her bloody lips as she blurrily looked around. It's what she always wanted. Everything worked out. She was famous. She was a star. She was the final girl.

She wanted to laugh and hollar and cheer that her name would be talked about for decades. No ordinary life or anything like that. She could live like a celebrity while being America's Sweet Little Cherry Pie in the media's eyes. She was golden now.

She got worked on and patched up but pretended she was so shaken. Fake tears that didn't even spill as she whimpered and both nurses and Doctors comforted her. One nurse said, "That poor thing. She's so brave. She's an Angel."

Jill wore a sly smirk the second that nurse left; no cameras in the hospital rooms. She released a sharp laugh she quickly covered. Shielding her mouth and acting like it was a sob when a nurse went by to check her vitals.

Yeah, her eye was hurting badly. She broke blood vessels in it. Bruised up. Just got her shoulder stab wound sewn up. On pain relievers. Everyone felt bad for her. Everyone was a bunch of fucking idiots that bought it.

She got closer than any other Ghostface. Billy and Stu could never! And soon they'd be recognized and going to prison, if they lived, and NO ONE would believe they weren't involved!

But Jill wasn't stupid. She had to play dumb. Blame Charlie for now and those 'bad men' that she didn't know till the authorities figured it out. Couldn't say a lot as the new victim and ruin it all that she knew too much...Damn! This was gonna be a great twist for a book all about her. Your 'Out of Darkness' hack job novel could be used for laughs or kindling now.

Jill could practically laugh and squeal with glee if it wasn't for her faking it.

Most of all. You were DEAD! She stabbed you so many times and you were fucking dead.

Dewey came in and Jill quickly acted subdued and tired when really she felt high on meds and life right about now. She gave a fake sniffle, voice heavy with false tears as Dewey was at her bedside.

"How are you doing?" He softly asked.

She shook her head, sighing heavily. "Feeling...Guilty. I mean...My friends. It should've been-" She choked on a fake cry.

"Shh...You made it, Jill. That's all that matters." He softly told her with a sad frown as he sat beside her bed.

Jill sniffed and gave in a shaky voice, "Charlie tried to kill me. And those men came in talking about things with him...And I...I heard they killed my mother-" She clutched her mouth to prevent a 'sob' and Dewey had tears of sympathy in his eyes.

Jill got so lucky getting an idiot like Dewey. A bleeding heart moron that lost two people he was close to tonight and almost his bitch ass wife Gale. That's all Jill could think of. She had to cover her mouth to hide the smile at Dewey crying...She had this in the bag.

"And Robbie and Kirby too. And Trevor-"

"Shhh." Dewey soothingly gave. "Just lay back. Try to rest."

"I-Is your wife?" Jill asked as she took a deep breath.

Dewey smiled, "She'll be fine. She's recovering."

Jill smiled back because at least the journalist that could gain her notoriety was alive to report this. A cheap shoulder wound was on purpose. She ordered Charlie to make it look worse than it was so they could use Gale in the future; not caring if he killed Randy or not. That was his own personal vendetta. Some geek jealous of a slightly older, cooler geek. Getting Charlie to think she loved him...Her?! Jill Roberts, a girl way out of his league?...It was just too easy. Dewey was just as stupid buying her pity party and as soon as Gale saw those dollar signs; she'd be easy too.

"If I ever write a book one day; I want her to write it with me." She smiled looking at her shoulder. "Be a good team with our matching wounds." She had to sell it. Looking down all contemplative. "We're survivors now...I just wish YN was too." She gave a 'sad' smile. Playing like America's sweetheart by having sympathy for the one that didn't make it.

Dewey looked serious. "Jill...They're not sure yet. It's still touch and go...But she's in ICU along with those two other men that are being monitored." He smiled. "If you think they were involved then we'll look into it and make sure when they wake up they're safe from hurting anyone ever again if they did...But YN? She might make it."

Jill felt a cord snap in her brain as she forced a smile that didn't match her eyes.

"....What?" She swallowed. "I-I-I but I saw...Charlie kill her?" She quickly thought up.

"Look." Dewey sighed. "We don't know yet but she's hanging on."

Jill swallowed. Cursing every word in her head. Screaming internally as her stomach twisted.

"I...I want to see her." She gave with urgency to her whisper.

"She's not awake yet. She was lacking oxygen for a bit. She might not remember everything and we'll have to help her with that...In time. Just get some rest, okay?"

Jill forced a tight lip smile that probably anyone with brains could see wasn't a pleased one as Dewey left her dim room with only the beeping monitors as a sound.

Jill nestled in the pillow acting like she was trying to doze off...The second she heard the door click shut; Those dark eyes snapped open with a deadly glare.

She wasted no time taking off her wires and heart monitor. Unplugging the cord before its beeping alerted nurses and made her way out the door of the isolated community hospital to ICU. No visitors were allowed with it being so late. Most nurses and staff switch shifts. Perfect.

She slunk in the shadows of the hall when a nurse on night shift went by before making her way to you...You would tell them everything. You would ruin EVERYTHING. You had to go.

-----------

Gale laid there on meds from her minor surgery hours ago. Pretty awake now just foggy headed. It cut a few tendons but she was lucky. She'd be fine with some rest.

Her mind was a million miles away though when she heard the news about Randy and you upon waking up.

"Damn..." She mumbled under her breath rubbing her face tiredly with her good arm the more she thought about it.

Hoss and Perkins Dead. She knew that would weigh heavily on her husband's mind.

Randy having an arrow through his shoulder- neck area and hung from the barn by a rope, guts all strung out like...Like Himbrey in 96.

Gale scoffed to herself. She felt like she should've known. She was the target and Randy was the distraction. Whoever did this studied those murders like the back of their hand; like they were there. Probably obsessed with horror movies like those freaks Billy and Stu too.

She sighed heavily...Now, you were in critical care and had no idea if you'd have amnesia or disabled or if you'd even live. Doctor's just said you were sewn up in your stomach area.

She wasn't one for sappy stuff. Wasn't one for friends. But...Well, she spent a better part of a decade or more talking to you and Randy. Plenty of dinners and talks.

She sighed remembering her last conversation was you and Randy thinking she was a liar making false promises. Of putting her career before people. How did she go from waking you both up yesterday morning at Randy's house to in a little over 24 hours? 20 hours to be precise. Randy was dead and you were in critical care.

Gale felt sad, yeah sure, but it was such a strange emotion really. At least for her.

...Maybe she did actually not care as much as she acted? Maybe...Maybe she was deluding herself with all this. Gale felt bitter seeing you have the spotlight while no one hardly knew her and her 'tarnished brand' anymore.

She loved Dewey but domestic life in Woodsboro wasn't cutting it. It didn't cut it a decade ago before her separation with Dewey and it wasn't working now despite trying the last decade to make it work. She was 47 years old now. She wasn't getting any younger.

But it confused her more that on one hand the thrill of getting the story was all she knew and she finally felt like Gale Weather's again instead of just Mrs. Riley...But at what cost? She got stabbed, Randy was dead and you were in ICU. And yet it was her life.

She shook her head to herself.

What was she saying? Of course she cared a little. You and her may be frenemies at times but you still were her maid of honor at her wedding. You still called her. You both were linked to these murders for life. And you were her husband's practical surrogate sister as he annoyingly called it.

She lightly rolled her eyes but frowned at everything.

So...Charlie and Robbie? Charlie and Trevor? Then who were those two men Dewey mentioned?

Her dark hair was matted from tonight as she laid her head back on her hospital bed. "...Why? Why did you do that?" She asked herself aloud in the empty room as if Ghostface was there.

It didn't make sense...Maybe her brain wasn't working properly with hospital grade drugs still in her system but why? Why were you at that house? Why were you and Randy not together when he was killed? Why was she only stabbed in the shoulder? That Ghostface had a clear shot of her chest or throat or even her head like Dewey said Perkins got so why a shoulder? Why some superficial wound she'd most likely live from?

Dewey popped in smiling lovingly at her. She smiled back...Sometimes he was the only thing grounding her.

"How do you feel?" Dewey asked his wife.

Gale shrugged lightly, eyes droopy and tired. About to force herself to shut off her brain and sleep after the night they had. "Same as earlier...How is she doing? Alright?"

Dewey sighed but nodded, coming closer to his wife's bed, "Yeah she's a strong kid."

"She's gonna have to be." Gale mused. "What about those two mystery men? Any ID?"

Dewey mumbled, "Yeah those guys are a mystery alright. But no, no ID on them. I haven't seen them myself but they're for sure suspects. In fact, I think I'm going to pay each a visit and see what I can figure out. One is in a different part of ICU than YN and the other is upstairs...Jill seems scared of them...Poor kid." He frowned.

Gale nodded, "Yeah, mystery contenders. She's a strong kid to fight off Charlie and possibly those two if they are involved. I'm sure YN helped her a lot...."

"That's YN. A fighter. Jill is too." Dewey smirked, "She asked if you were okay. Says you should write a book together." He smiled more, chuckling at the coincidence. "With your matching wounds."

"Why? She was stabbed in the shoulder too?" Gale kept smiling while laying back.

Dewey nodded...And yet looked away thinking to himself. Gale did too...

Now, Gale's brain may be a bit foggy but...Something wasn't adding up...She went straight to the hospital from the barn. She never...She never saw Jill? And Dewey didn't talk to her till just now...

"How did Jill know I was stabbed in the shoulder? Did you tell her?"

Dewey scrunched his face in thought. "Well...No, I-"

Gale opened her mouth to say something wasn't right when Dewey's radio sounded loudly on his shoulder.

Dewey answered just to hear Judy frantically tell him. "Sheriff, the two male suspects are gone! The one in the ICU was reported missing first. Me and another officer just checked upstairs and the other male suspect is gone too."

"What??" Dewey's face scrunched as he stood up straighter.

"We don't know how they slipped out or how long. Searching all floors, Sir. I'm on my way to check Jill Robert's room now. "

Dewey gave the affirmative and clicked off.

Dewey quickly got his gun and with wide eyes exclaimed as it dawned on him where Ghostface would go. "Shit...YN!" Before bolting out the door heading to ICU. "Stay here!" Dewey ordered.

Gale grumbled to herself. All before smacking her bed. "Oh fuck." She sneered out before jerking herself tiredly off her bed to get dressed quickly. "Married over a decade and he thinks orders work on me-"

Yeah, those men were definitely suspects but something wasn't right...How did Jill know Gale had her shoulder stabbed?

-----------

Jill rounded the corner and right when she got near your room a hand grabbed her by the mouth and dragged her into the shadows. "You're not nearly as smart as you think you are." Billy hissed in her ear. Medical gown on with pants underneath. "That knife didn't even penetrate an organ. If you're gonna gut someone? Do it groin to sternum-" He shoved her against the wall hard. Pissed off, injured, but still a grown man's strength as she grunted in pain from the impact. Billy positioned his one hand on her jaw the other on her throat. Ready to snap her neck or crush her windpipe. Whatever was quickest.

All before she bit his finger as hard as she could as it got near her mouth. He hissed in pain before releasing a harsh groan as she elbowed him in his stitches then turned around and kicked him in the groin as hard as she could as his knees buckled.

"Stay out of my way, fucking has-been." She warned as he was on his knees trying and failing to get up from how vicious she was with her hits. She rushed to your room; too zoned in on ending you.

Billy clenched his teeth and sucked air through them "I swear to God, I'm not resting till I kill everyone in this bitches family! Goddamn twat-" He growled out under his breath as he tried to brace himself against the wall. Still a bit high himself from anesthesia as he fell back against the wall again.

Jill entered your room. You were slightly awake, probably a nurse waking you. The teen girl wryly smirked at the luck she had of you barely hanging on. All alone.

"You just won't die." Jill mused with an exasperated arm motion as she came into the room.

You blurrily saw her form. Trying to fully wake yourself up to sit up as Jill stalked towards you with a glare. "What are you? Michael Fucking Myers?"

You quickly tried to grab the button for help. Still half out of it but Jill got it sooner. Yanking it away with a deadly smirk on her face. "Yeah, I don't think so."

You went to make a noise and soon nimble fingers clamped down on your throat as hard as they could as she straddled you on the bed. It hurt. Everything hurt like hell as she tried to choke you as hard as she could; her weight pressed on your stitches.

"Fucking die already!!-" She grunted out putting force into her hands to crush your airway.

You looked up seeing the rage filled evil look in her eyes. Her dark eyes even darker as pupils dilated to saucer plates in full kill mode with one eye red and blood vessels popped. She wanted you dead and would stop at nothing to get it. You smacked on her cut up forehead, pressed on her eye with your thumb before grabbing her by the hair to slam her hand into the metal railing beside you.

You practically tumbled out of bed to try and get away from her before releasing a strangled cry of pain as she jumped down and almost shoved her knee hard into your stitched up organs and abdomen. It hurt the flesh beside it but that still felt like anguish.

...All before she cried out when a fist slammed HARD into her temple. Toppling her over.

You gasped for air seeing Stu wobbling on his feet having hid in the bathroom. Heavily stitched up and medicated.

Jill released an enraged groan through her teeth clutching her face over her red eye. "I'm just a teen girl, you prick!"

"Do I look like I give a shit?" He retorted. He didn't waste time lunging at her the best he could, his adrenaline pumping as she rolled out of the way.

You quickly forced yourself off the floor with pained hitches in your breath.

Stu huffed and grabbed Jill by her body throwing her into the medicine cabinet where shards of glass broke. She cried out landing with a thud. Stu picked up a shard to kill her as he dropped to his knees to corner her.

"...Man, ya know. You're not bad for a chick. But you made a big fucking mistake the second you put on that mask." He warned. Raising the glass overhead with both hands. Ready to plunge it into her and end her life. A smirk playing at his lips ready to do what he does best. "Even bigger one going after my girl."

He yelped out as something sharp stabbed through his neck...A brand new empty needle that went deep in the side of his neck. Jill grabbed it when it fell from the broken medical cabinet. He blindly tried to get it out.

Jill stood up and you used your IV cord holding it in both hands to jerk her back to try and stop her before a strangled yell escaped you as she elbowed you in your stomach. Turning around to force you to the wall and her fist hitting you hard as you yelled. Blood seeping through your bandages and gown.

"How are those stitches?!" She exclaimed with a grin. It's as if being thrown into a medical cabinet like that didn't phase her. She was clearly on a mission that only death would stop her. It didn't help that she was just on some good pain relievers while you and Stu still had anesthesia in your lungs.

You screamed in agony as she punched you so hard in your stitches, your knees gave out on you.

Stu glared at her, rushing to her as she let you go and dodged him, slinking into a small corner near the shadows of the room. By far the less injured one in this room as she went to run into the closet.

"Hiding already?!" Stu demanded snarling at her. He was ready to beat the living shit out of her as he tried to jam that door open.

Using all his strength he jerked it open, locked or not, "It's over, you-"

A huge hollow bang sounded. A heavy metal bedpan hit him square upside the jaw as he stumbled back. Stu looked almost cross eyed, jarred and trying to get his footing before she slammed it upside his head a second time and he went down. She hit him so many times you were scared she was gonna kill him right then and there!

You tried to get up and keeled over. Mouth hanging open in a silent scream as blood stained your hospital gown. Your stitches are opening again and you were so fucked up right now.

Jill heard you make a noise and stopped beating Stu, walking towards you. She went to swing the pot over her head to do the same to you...Maybe worse. "Is this how it's gonna be, YN? The ending of the movie was supposed to be at the house...I mean, this is just... Silly!" She wryly chuckled

You weakly stared up at her seeing Stu knocked out cold. You noticed someone else but kept your eyes on her.

"You'll never get away with this."

"Of course I will!" She grinned even if her eyes looked manic. "Who is going to believe Billy and Stu didn't kill you?"

Before she could swing on you, she released a scream as something sharp stabbed her from behind. Looking down at her abdomen at a shard of glass sticking out all before it was painfully yanked out. She yelled again looking down in shock.

You looked up to see Billy glaring behind her. A bloody glass shard in hand before he leveled it at her throat. "I've had enough of this shit!" He made the first cut on her throat ready to yank it. "You want to be famous? You got it."

Jill went to fight, eyes wide in actual fear that she was seconds away from being cut.

"DROP IT!" Someone barreled into the room, keys and other metals clanking on his belt...Police boots thudding into the room.

Your breath caught as you heard that familiar male voice...

No...No, no, no.

You looked to see Dewey with his gun drawn. Aimed at Billy.

-----------

Dewey looked on in shock at the scene before his cop instincts kicked in. You stayed there frozen and so did the man holding Jill hostage. He kept a firm grip on Jill using her as a human shield with that bloody shard of glass in hand.

What the hell was going on here?...

"Let her go!" He ordered the man but he stayed hidden behind Jill. Side stepping with her close to his chest so the Sheriff couldn't get an accurate shot without hurting her. The bastard.

Dewey watched how you looked like a fish out of water with your mouth and eyes wide open. Blood seeping through your hospital gown onto your fingers as you held your bandages.

Jill had been stabbed, blood seeping from her gown as well as tears of pain in her eyes. A man laid knocked out on the floor while the other held her hostage.

Dewey steadied his aim, nervously running his bottom lip over his top teeth a moment at how hairy this situation was. He didn't know who these men were but they were clearly the killers. They hurt you and hurt Jill too. Trying to finish the job.

Then Jill opened her mouth, "Dewey help! I came here to see YN and these guys she invited to the house were here! They're the killers, Dewey! Please!"

He glanced over seeing your expression twist into what he thought was in shock for poor Jill...But...You invited them?

He saw your breathing stop seeing what Jill was saying and your jaw clenched.

"Wha-" Dewey didn't think he heard her right. But then his stomach sank as the stabbed teen continued.

"She called them at Kirby's house telling them to get there and take care of things. I thought they were there to help but YN and them..." She trailed off in tears as the dark haired man holding the shard of glass to her neck sneered at her.

Dewey's eyes widened as he kept his gun aimed. "Let her go! Let her go right now, damn it!"

You finally stammered out from your spot in the room, "No Dewey... S-She's lying! Her and Charlie-"

Jill shook her head with tears as she looked at you, "I trusted you, YN. I thought you were there to save us! You and these guys helped Charlie!"

Your jaw went slack as Dewey saw your face contort in outrage. "Dewey she's lying! God damn it, she's fucking lying!" You yelled over her with a strained voice.

He felt his heart hammering and mind buzzing...No. There was no way! There was no way you were in on it. No way you were helping these killers...But why was Jill saying this?

Dewey looked positively confused and frantic. "Damn it, I said let her go!"

You sat up, pain or not. Groaning in anguish that seemed to fuel your anger. You were angry and bleeding, Jill was bleeding and scared, these men were holding Jill hostage and Dewey felt yanked back and forth.

"No! Don't you dare let her go!" You yelled at the man and then glared with pure desperation in your gaze at Dewey. "Dewey, fucking listen to me-" You growled out through your teeth in frustration.

"YN?" Dewey asked apprehensively with the gun still aimed. "Why is Jill saying you're involved?! Why don't you want her to be away from that man!?"

"Because she's the killer!!" You almost screamed in desperation as Jill almost got out of Billy's grasp and to Dewey's surprise, you gasped. As if Jill getting away from the man was a bad thing? Was Jill actually the killer? Then who were these guys? Dewey felt as panicky as the room was right now.

He almost envied the guy knocked out by a bedpan on the floor and wished he could be there too!

Finally, the man spoke up. Getting tense himself with a fighting hostage and gun pointed at him. "I'm saving YN, you idiot! This girl is the killer! She hurt YN, not me!"

....

The whole room grew silent.

He...Knew that voice.

Dewey felt his brows scrunching and his body tingling. A chill down his spine because...No...No, it couldn't be. But as soon as he spoke and as soon as Dewey saw those eyes...He just knew. A deep instinct. Then looking at the form of the laid out man on the ground...He recognized him by what side of his face he could see.

Gale was right. All these years Gale was right...Gale was right.

The picture from a decade ago and that feeling he got was full force now.

...He recognized that voice...Things were clicking as he looked into the man's dark gaze. Eyes wide with fury and shock, jaw clenched...As he stared down the man that played dead all these years... He was looking at his sister's killer for the first time in years...And Jill claimed you were involved?...

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You stared enraged and frantic and pained and plain out scared. She couldn't do this! She couldn't get away with this! If she couldn't kill you then she was going to lock you away as long as she stayed the famous innocent victim.

You wanted to grab Dewey's gun and just let Billy hack away. She was making you feel like a cornered animal at the lies she was spewing that you were fearing Dewey was eating up.

But all those thoughts halted as Dewey uttered a word. "...B-Billy?...No...No way it can't be..." The middle aged Sheriff dragged out in a strained whisper. "...It is. It's you."

You felt pale. It was Randy in that barn earlier tonight all over again and with the risk involved; this was so much worse.

You went to speak but nothing came out. Your mouth was dry, head foggy, hands clammy, so in pain you might vomit, short of breath, throat tight...This was a nightmare.

Even Jill was silent as everyone saw Dewey's demeanor change...Silence in the room. Your breath quickened seeing the satisfaction in Jill's eyes as you realized she was winning. She wanted to play innocent while putting the blame on Billy and Stu...And if she couldn't kill you? Then you too.

"...YOU." He growled out. So uncharacteristic of gentle and polite Dewey.

"D-Dewey wait-" You forced out with a wince; getting closer.

"Stay back, YN! He's dangerous! It's...It's Billy Loomis. Gale was right. He's alive. He's the killer again!" Dewey was in fight or flight as he glared down Billy but even you could see the shock slowly bit by bit being replaced with rage.

You held your breath feeling cornered. What could you say?! What could you possibly say that wouldn't end in you being as guilty?

Billy mumbled, "I'm not, Billy...I-...Look. You're mistaken-"

Dewey snapped, "I'M NOT! I saw your picture a million times, I picked you kids up in my jeep, I was filing reports while hearing the old Chief of Police talk to you and your Dad...IT'S YOU. You lived..." Dewey sneered as angry tears pricked his eyes. "You killed my sister."

You felt your heart hammering away in your chest. Of course Jill manipulated. Crying fake tears, "Oh God, Dewey please help me!"

"Stop!...Please stop." You gingerly inched closer "Dewey, I know how this looks but Jill is the killer...Jill is not innocent, do you hear me!?" You urged in a harsh whisper.

Dewey looked bewildered and angry. Rage slowly taking over. Leveling the gun at Billy as Billy tried ducking behind a much shorter Jill which made his grip not as secure.

You kept trying to talk sense into him. "Dewey, think... Why would Jill even be here if she was innocent? Why would she need to see me this late at night in ICU?" You demanded holding your bleeding stomach.

"Why is Billy Loomis here!?" He countered.

You didn't know what to say without digging your own grave.

Jill shook her head, her voice a quiet pitiful tremble. "I was worried about you, YN. So I came to see you and these two were here and...You all were trying to escape and-"

Dewey glanced down eyes widening at Stu's passed out tall form on the floor then narrowing as Jill was painting a picture...It was just sealing the deal that Jill was truthful in his eyes.

"Shut the fuck up!" Billy snapped, not able to handle the lies from her as he jerked her in his arms. "You came here to finish the job with YN, we knew it, we beat you here to put you down-"

Dewey got closer with the gun. Eyes narrowed. "Not on my watch, Loomis. Put the glass down and let her go...Or else."

Billy didn't. However, he actually looked nervous for once behind that smoldering dark gaze. "...Why? So you can shoot me? Get revenge?"

"So, I'm right...You are Billy Loomis. 15 years later." Dewey mumbled with an edge to his voice all while Billy didn't say anything. "Turns out, evil doesn't win. Your time was bound to happen...What kind of sick man preys on innocent teenagers?! Even as a teen yourself, you were demented! I trusted you and your friend Stu to be near my baby sister and her best friend and look what happened!!" Dewey boomed with an emotional outburst as years of pent up anguish was coming out.

Jill shoved away and ran to Dewey. "Dewey, shoot him!" She rushed to hug Dewey's side, playing up the innocence as Dewey protectively put her behind himself.

Billy looked with wide fearful eyes. As much fear as you saw when you shot at him on stage all those years ago or when Neil nearly choked him to death in Hollywood.

And then...A strange sort of acceptance washed over him. Billy gave a frown but seemed to untense his shoulders and let the hand with the bloody shard of glass fall. It's like he was accepting his time was gonna come eventually. That his past from Woodsboro in 96 would bite him in the ass one day. That one day just surviving like a street rat criminal would get to him.

Dewey went to pull the trigger as Billy closed his eyes a moment. Dewey was so lawful you expected him to just handcuff Billy but the vengeful look in his eye and after tonight? You weren't so sure.

You may have let him shoot him had so much not happened but after they returned to save you twice tonight and after Jill tried to frame you too?...You knew what you had to do. If not for them then for your own selfishness to have extra hands to destroy Jill.

"DON'T!-"

You rushed as quickly as your body allowed.

....

Dewey gasped and jerked his gun away before he could pull the trigger as Billy opened his eyes again in shock...Seeing you standing in front of him in pain from rushing over but still trying to block Billy's body with your own.

You didn't know why. Didn't know what you were doing. Other than the Billy standing here was not the one you fought over a decade ago. He stood up for you to Randy tonight, he came here, he saved you twice tonight, and with Jill painting you as an accomplice? Your choice was to let him die and go to prison for something that Jill was framing you with too and everyone would trust her...Or try to reason with Dewey that Jill did this before a rash decision was made and suffer the choice afterwards. You probably still should just let Billy die yet with your world thinning and them actually helping you...

"YN? What are you doing?!" Dewey asked in a voice that was filled with betrayal. With hurt as his brows shot up and he shook his head in bewilderment.

Billy looked down at you in shock, his mouth parted and eyes wide.

You sucked in a shaky breath and looked straight at Dewey as you shielded Billy. Making a choice you can't come back from as you held your bloody stomach through your bandages.

"Don't do this. You follow the books, you follow the rules, you make things right the lawful way...Dewey, they deserve death or prison for everything they've done. They do..." You pointed an accusing finger at Jill. "But not until she gets it also! If she's handcuffed, then you can do what you want but not until then. She isn't a victim. She's the killer!" You glared at the teen playing innocent. "She killed her own mother tonight at her house after Perkins and Hoss were dead."

Jill furiously shook her head at Dewey but you saw the glare she gave you before he looked at her. She wanted you dead. So much she looked ready to forfeit and lunge at you; Dewey here or not. You wish she would.

"Her and Charlie planned all of this. She is the killer that recorded everything! Check her phone and you'll find deleted videos in the hard-drive!-"

"YOU MONSTER!!" Jill screamed. She never ever expected to be investigated, that much you could tell. Thought she would get away scott free and never be questioned or her phone searched.

"No, you are!" You jeered in disdain. "Charlie killed Randy and stabbed Gale upon your request! You killed the cops and your Mom and you or Charlie killed Dewey's deputies. Jenny and Marnie, Olivia, Kirby, Robbie, Trevor all to recreate what Billy and Stu did so you can be me!"

Dewey looked frazzled. Like he wanted to scream at all of you to shut up so he could think.

Jill scoffed, barely concealing her rage with the victimized acting. "Then why did you call Billy and Stu to the house?! Why are they here?...Isn't that what Randy and you fought about before he got killed? That he knew?" She gave like a stab in the gut with a cruel smirk trying to fight its way to her lips that Dewey couldn't see with her back to him...But you and Billy could.

Billy grumbled under his breath, "You fucking cunt."

You froze, breathing heavy as Dewey's eyes widened to saucers. He SHOULD be questioning how Jill would know any of that, unless she was recording and watching Randy before he died. And it's no secret Dewey wasn't exactly the quickest thinker but especially this clusterfuck warzone happening right now. He SHOULD be taking into consideration all the evidence that even if Billy and Stu were here; Jill's story wasn't adding up. But he was so hurt by this news all he could think of was one thing.

"How would you know that unless you saw it, huh!? How would you possibly know that!?" You argued. "It's over for you, Jill! You saw those recordings uploaded to the dark web because Charlie's camera was sending feedback to your fucking phone!"

Jill looked tongue tied. Glaring. Ready to jerk the gun out of Dewey's hands to shoot you. You never thought you'd feel relieved but you kinda did. Even if you got shot; it would prove Jill isn't innocent.

But Dewey...Had other things on his mind...Something that looked as painful to him as it did Randy tonight.

"...Y-You...You knew." He stumbled out with hurt in his voice, gun still raised.

"Dewey...This isn't important right now-" You tried to even say but he cut you off.

"The hell it isn't! You...You actually knew. This whole time?" His voice cracked.

Billy and you stood still, Dewey's eyes only focused on you, and Jill had nothing but smug satisfaction in her gaze even as she was in pain bleeding out.

Gale ran in and looked bewildered at the scene before. "What the absolute fuck..." She mumbled under her breath.

Jill quickly informed her like some kid tattling on another. "Oh God! Gale, Dewey saved me! I came to see YN and-"

Dewey held up a hand to silence her as he glared at you with tears in his eyes. "...You knew...YOU KNEW!" He yelled in betrayal.

"Dewey, stop! I didn't-"

Gale was faster than her husband as she saw Billy. "Jesus Christ. Is that?-"

"Billy Loomis and Stu Macher...Apparently...You were right Gale." He sniffed, shaking his head with a wry smirk as tears threatened to spill. "These were the guys all those years ago, weren't they?...YN, you're telling me you knew they were alive and lied to my face? You lied to all of us! You were helping them?!" Dewey looked close to just breaking down.

"This isn't the time! The murderer this time is Jill-"

"Did you!?" He demanded with such hurt and desperation in his eyes to say it wasn't so. That this was a mistake even if he knew better. "God, you did...The photo, the motel, the secrecy, you so distant...GOD YN-" He almost broke down crying right then and there at the pain you were sure he was feeling.

You stumbled, "Dewey I'm sorry but it's not what it looks like and I will explain everything after you arrest Jill! Please." You pleaded just as desperately.

"You helped hide the guys that murdered my little sister, YN... She was your friend! Tatum loved you! She trusted you!...I trusted you." His face scrunched in emotional turmoil as he shakily held the gun; still pointing at you and Billy. "Randy tried to tell me tonight. And a photo...The damn photo I had from the motel a decade ago and..." He shook his head.

Gale even looked at him oddly, "Photo?"

"Dewey, whatever you think...I swear, I didn't know-"

"Stop lying! It's too late, the pieces of this puzzle are adding up too much." Dewey demanded. All before addressing Gale. "YN going into her motel room with these two men...I knew she was acting weird and I pocketed the picture to save her from being accused by the media." Dewey sniffed shaking his head. "What an idiot I was. I thought they looked familiar but I didn't want to think...I just never thought-"

"What?!" Gale exclaimed at something that huge being hidden from her by her own husband.

You knew you weren't getting through to Dewey so you turned to Gale who didn't seem nearly as victorious as she should.

"Gale! Think! Plleeasse, I'm begging you; think!" You pleaded desperately not seeing a way out of this. "You know Jill isn't innocent. Why would she be down here? How would she know everything she does? Evidence points to her! Just check her fucking phone at the police station!" You yelled out as Gale looked away for a moment.

Gale looked so conflicted.

"Gale, please! I can explain everything just listen-"

All before Gale glanced at Billy behind you...Then steadied a glare your way. "...You ruined my fucking career and name. I had evidence you knew and you made me look like a fucking fool to the whole world! Ruined my relationship with Dewey for years over your sorry ass lies." She jeered in contempt. "You were my fucking bridesmaid and you do this to us? I can handle it, you know I can. But to Dewey!?"

Your heart squeezed at how bad this was.

Gale huffed, "You're just as guilty as I said you were...You made me look like a moron and broke my husband's trust hiding his sister's killers!"

"I did hide them but not how you think I did. I didn't, I swear! I didn't help them, I've never helped them other than towards other Ghostface's!"

Billy even spoke up, "She really didn't, morons. If you just get that lil bitch behind you in handcuffs; YN could explain-"

"Shut up!" Dewey ordered angry tears pricking his eyes. "YN, I can't believe this...I just can't...I can't trust you. Not a word!"

Jill shook her head with fake sadness, "YN, we all trusted you. Did you actually kill my cousin Sidney too?" She was fucking mocking you at this point.

You almost snapped. Ready to say things that dug your grave more but it was insane being painted this way and no one backing you up on 'the good side' while the true villain played everyone like puppets. The puppeteer herself smirked subtly beside Dewey.

Billy's breath quickened and jaw ticked behind you as you felt frozen.

"Wait a minute...If Billy's here then where's Stu Macher?" Gale asked as back up was on its way and Dewey had you and Billy at gun point.

"Huh?-" Dewey mumbled and even Jill's eyes widened in realization. Too busy arguing with you to notice.

"...You said Stu Macher? Where is he?" Gale mumbled with a raised brow close to Dewey.

Just then, Deputy Hicks charged in with guns blazing. "Sir! I'm here-"

!!!

All before Stu who had to have sneakily crawled on the floor while all eyes were on you and Billy, stayed hidden in the dim lit room. Then used the damn bedpan to womp Judy upside the head just hard enough to daze her and snatch her gun. By the time Dewey aimed his gun, it was too late. He had a gun and Billy quickly grabbed you from behind.

"Billy, what the hell!?-" You yelped out in a bit of pain and shock as Billy used you for a human shield and started dragging you out the room.

"Sorry YN, but we gotta get outta here now." He mumbled behind you before giving a cocky look to everyone.

Stu kept the gun aimed at Judy and when she tried to get it back he let off a bullet into her chest. You gasped not expecting him to go that far but then reminded yourself this is the guy that gutted his ex and hung her in a tree.

Stu grabbed your stuff off the chair in the room and smirked. He gave a grin to Dewey. Dewey glared, going to shoot at Stu.

"Do it and your Wifey dies." He leered, gun now aimed at Gale who held her hands up with wide eyes.

Billy already had you halfway out of the room as you tried reasoning. Everything was happening so damn fast. "Wait! Wait, wait, wait- This is gonna make shit worse! Stop!" You frantically begged. "Dewey! Please, I'm sorry! I swear, I was telling the truth years ago! I swear on everything I did not help them kill Tatum or Sid-"

It fell on deaf ears as Dewey glared with the gun pointed. Following his gaze at you and Billy while Stu was doing urgent hand motions to hurry up. Billy's gaze never left Dewey's as he side-stepped you both out of the room avoiding broken glass on the floor.

Now, it was Jill's turn to panic as she ordered Dewey with a snarl, "Do it! Shoot the fucking bitch! Shoot them!" And when you almost got out of the room with Billy she went for Dewey's gun.

"Jill, no!" Dewey shoved her away from almost getting the gun.

...And you saw the look on Gale's face. You saw it. That look of shock at Jill's tone and shift in personality even when 'hurt'...You knew Gale had to have her doubts but her damned ego was too great at being right all this time.

"Dewey?" Gale urged as Billy started slipping you both out of the room.

Jill joined in, "Aren't you gonna stop them?! They...They killed my friends!" She quickly saved. Still playing up that pathetic act.

"I can't without shooting YN!" He exclaimed.

Jill scoffed, "SO!? She's in on it! You heard her! She knew about Billy and Stu! She's the killer."

Gale eyed Jill. Dewey shook his head. Only you and Billy visible now but unable to get a shot at Billy holding you.

"YN!" He yelled to get your attention as you were dragged down the hall. "...Don't ever step foot in Woodsboro ever again. If you do?..." He trailed off shaking his head. You both knew. He'd arrest you by any means necessary...Or worse.

"...Dewey..." You mumbled with your chest aching.

"YN, c'mon." Billy jerked you away as Stu provided cover as you all moved in the shadows as much as your pained bodies allowed. Adrenaline is a hell of a drug.

Dewey had tears in his eyes. Lowering his gun and hanging his head. Jill scoffed and went to go to the hallway before Gale used her good arm to jerk her back, "What the hell are you doing?"

Jill lost her determined glare and looked like she was caught before she jerked away from Gale to quickly rushed to Dewey hugging him and 'sobbing'. "I was so scared! I don't want them to get away and hurt others, please!"

Dewey numbly wrapped an arm around Jill. "It's okay...They won't hurt anyone or I will stop them by any means necessary myself. I promise..."

Gale mumbled, "What are you gonna do?"

... Dewey called into his radio for an officer down and to not let YN, Billy Loomis or Stu Macher escape the hospital. He may not be able to kill us but if he thought in any way we had hid Tatum's murderers under his nose all these years and the police did catch us? Well...At least we could get medical attention, be seperated from those two and receive help we need or face some justice.

Dewey clutched Jill like he would you. Like he did with you back in 1996 in the hospital after that hellish night. A single tear running down his cheek as he tried to hold it together. An older, more experienced man now even if this betrayal still hurts. Jill was his to protect now...Even if it was from you.

Judy groaned a bit, getting up in a haze. No blood but hit in the head with a metal pan and shot with her bullet proof vest on just enough to knock the wind out of her.

And Gale just...Watched the scene beside herself as her husband let you escape while comforting...The victim.

(Remember when we were getting taco bell and listening to Wasn't Me in the car in the 2000's? Yeah, I miss that 🥲)

#scream #stu macher #billy loomis #my writing #scream fanfiction #yn fanfic #she her yn #my stories #polyghostface #scream 4 #fours a franchise

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sublieu · 2 years

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Ỏ̷͖̥b̸̮̽͊s̴̲̻̀e̷̹͘s̶̙͂ś̴̞i̴̥̇v̵̗̘̍e̶̹̋̚

Tw: Gore, Yandere behavior, Cheating, Drugging [mentioned]

A.n: fans be warned. this is my first time writing a horror fic and there is no happy ending

You remembered it like it was Yesterday; snuggling with Wukong in your couch as you watched corny romance drama. Everything was perfect.

Until he ruined it.

Going out with separate women behind your back for months on end until Macaque showed you proof himself.

Since then, Nothing's been the same. He was forced to leave your house whilst Macaque comforted you. And after a while, you and Macaque started dating.

Going out for movie dates and occasional love making, it looked like things were going steady now. As Macaque even got to work from home.

You left for a party, sadly Macaque didn't want to go but that still didn't mean he didn't want you to go, getting you ready for a party before giving you one last kiss before watching you enter Iron Fan's car and leave.

Macaque went to the fridge, grabbing some ice cream before going to the living room to watch a movie when his phone vibrated, opening it to see your picture pop up. Smiling contently.

When suddenly the lights went out.

He got up, and turned on his flashlight before going downstairs to the basement to fix the generator, which was very odd but he didn't question it because he just wanted to get back to the movie

As he walked down the stairs he had a weird feeling. Like something was telling him to run or turn around, but he brushed it off as his imagination.

Finally spotting the generator he took the time to fix it, noticing that the wires were purposefully plugged off and repaired the wires before flicking back the switch for light to return.

Until he got clocked in his head, looking back to find Wukong with his staff.

He was about to ask him why was he here until he saw how dilated his eyes were. Which caused him to run out the door. But it was too late as he clocked him over the head again. Knocking him out fully whilst Wukong dragged him back into the house.

Time flies by and you're being driven home, waving to Iron fan goodbye before watching her drive off, turning around to enter your home when you realized that you door was open. Fully.

A sick feeling left a pit in your stomach as soon as you entered your house, the place was dark, sure there were a few lights on but it gave off a creepy vibe.

There was a weird smell in the air, it smelled like an animal died, the living room was turnt over and you spot a dark red liquid on your carpet. It smelt metallic and horrid.

You were panicking internally. Unaware that the perpetrator was still inside your house until you looked around and saw something furry and black. Not wanting to find out what it was you ignored it to the best of your ability and went down stairs.

Only to find Wukong's stick, lying on the floor, with blood. Which caused you to finally scream, making him aware of your presence before running upstairs and locking the door, running to the kitchen and hiding in one of the cabinets when you heard his voice.

"[Name]~ Why are you hiding from me~?"

Wukong purrs, dragging his bloodied stick against your [f/c] rug all the way to the kitchen, Where you hid in one of the cabinets.

This was absolutely terrifying; Coming home to see not only your door unlocked, but a bloodied mess trailing to the basement where Wukong was.

You gagged and try your hardest to not cause too much noise in case he was nearby. The metallic smell of blood alongside the atmosphere had you in fear, you should've ran when you had the chance.

But now you're stuck in your house with a demented Wukong looking for you.

"[Name] don't make me start tearing this house down~, cause if you don't come out I'll do it~"

He coos again, his voice slowly trailing out the kitchen and upstairs, assuming he might be entering your bedroom.

You waited for a good 3 minutes before leaving the cabinet and going to the door, to see it locked.

"shit. Shitshitshit"

You whisper, looking around the room for something to protect yourself with. Even a metal rod would help; Until you remembered that not only you had pepper spray in your purse, There were your 3 sharpest knives. To which you quietly entered the kitchen and snagged the knife before you heard his heavy footsteps come down stairs and put the knife in your purse to engage your attack.

As soon as he entered the kitchen again, there you were,(horribly) hiding behind the fridge.

"Ah! There you are~! You gave me quite a scare!"

He starts and puts down his stick to come and hug you, perfect time to enact your plan.

As soon as he hugged you, you pepper sprayed him, forcing him to try and wipe it from his eyes before stabbing him in the neck. Letting him fall to the ground before stabbing him repeatedly in the chest and neck area.

He tried to defend himself, but failed miserably and pretended to play dead; Stopping his pulse till he was sure you were done. Which was shortly after.

You got up, breathing heavily before going to your door to break the locks off. Until you heard laughing, weird. Turning around you were shock beyond belief.

There he stood, slightly limping with his eye popping out his socket with his jaw dislocated.

Somehow, he started running towards you, ready to tear you apart before the door finally broke off to give you a chance to run.

You started screaming for dear life, calling out for help as he still chased you, how was he still able to run with a limping leg!?

No time to ask questions as you saw Pigsy's restaurant; Pigsy outside and locking the door.

"PIGSY OPEN THE DOOR"

You yelled as you reached closer, he looked back and saw Wukong before opening the grill and dragging you in; locking it with extra security measures which forced Wukong to try and open the place himself as you and Pigsy heaved before looking back at you with shock in his face.

"What the fuck happened and why is Wukong trying to break in!?"

He asks before calling down Mk from his room to get bandages; Mk wanting to know an answer as well.

"I-i don't know! All I did was come home to see my house unlocked and blood in my living room!"

You panted out. When you remembered 'Wait... Didn't you leave Macaque there this evening? Oh god... Dont tell me he's dead!?'

After putting two and two together, you fainted. That's why you noticed black fur in the living room. Wukong killed him, and he was coming after you next.

Suddenly, the metal door got torn off. Wukong in all his glory, his popped out eye now gone leaving a baren hole where an eye was, he didn't look like he was limping like he did before. That was the last thing you saw before blacking out.

You woke up, groggy and confused. Once you realised you were in your basement, you attempted to get up. Only now realizing you were tied up to a chair.

You were scared, but remained as quiet as possible. You were still unsure if Wukong was still in here until he started talking.

"I must admit, pepper spraying me was a smart move on your end"

He starts, revealing himself from the shadows, his jaw back in place and an eye in where a hole was. He also looked like he had a shower before talking to you.

"Y know I'm hurt. I come back to talk to you after all these years and all you do is just hurt me and run away?"

"Where's Macaque?"

You asked and he chokes you, forcing you to try and move his hands away from your neck by falling to the ground.

"You're gonna talk about him while I'm here?! Are you fucking kidding me?!"

He threatens before calming down; continuing with his speech before helping you back up and going over to turn on the lights. Blinding you temporarily.

"Here's your Macaque"

He smiles, you screamed in utter horror at the sight.

Macaque was nailed to the wall, his upper half open and sprawling his guts out. Blood dripping to the floor; until you looked at his eyes, stitched open and looking at you directly.

"See? He's still here! Say hi to him! I had to stuff a cloth in his mouth though cause he wouldn't stop screaming"

He smiles and waves to him, Macaque only started crying as muffled screams left his lips. Which caused you to cry out of fear.

"Mk and Pigsy are here too!! See?"

He talks again before turning your chair to see Mk beheaded and Pigsy, on a plate. His body having a golden brown, he was cooked.

"They tried to keep us away from each other! But I got rid of them! So now we'll never be apart!"

"You're fucking sick Wukong!"

He looks at you with those sickly dilated yellow eyes before standing up; You knew you were gonna get hurt but you didn't care.

"You're absolutely fucking delusional if you expect me to wanna take you back after this y-you fucking psycho!"

You continued screaming at him, crying profusely before saying your final words of hate.

"I will never date you again! Get that through your fucking head you demented fu-"

Before you could even finish your sentence he cut off your tongue, letting the blood clog your mouth before spitting it out, your blood now on your lap as you continued crying.

"I wouldn't have done that if you had kept your mouth shut. But it's too late now. At least now you'll finally shut up."

He gives you a sadistic smile, laughing at your misery as you kept crying, until he forced your head to look at him.

"I'll give you your tongue back as long as you say you'll love me. Understand?"

He coos in a teasing manner, you nod before he forced you to drink a weird smelling liquid, healing back your tongue before he kissed you. Licking whatever left over blood in your mouth.

"See? Was that so hard? Now that I know you love me we'll never be apart! And I'll make sure of it."

©𝐒𝐮𝐛𝐥𝐢𝐞𝐮 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟐; 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐑𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝

#sun wukong x reader #lmk sun wukong #yandere sun wukong #yandere x reader #lmk x reader #lmk x y/n #lego monkie kid sun wukong #lego monkie kid x reader #lego monkie kid x y/n #lego monkie king #lego monkie kid #🍑lmk masterlist

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sparrowhero · 1 year

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i feel like we don’t see enough of shigaraki being silly! ppl really skip over his funny side. could u write some hcs of tomura being silly w his s/o or just being goofy in general? thank u!

will do!

Silly Shigaraki x Reader

Honestly, he's not as mature as he'd like people to believe. He's a guy who sticks his tongue out at people behind their backs-- ESPECIALLY other league members. He's a lot freer with his facial expressions in general at the base so he makes a lot of very emphatic expressions.

Shigaraki is kind of easily embarrassed so his goofy side is reserved mostly for you when he's not being a little shit to other people. It's partially a leadership thing as well as a vulnerability/intimacy thing. He does mess around with them sometimes.

Will chase you around the base like a demented game of tag going "I'm gonna getcha!" This is scary looking to normal people because he goes hard as HELL but it's fun for you, I promise. There's something very satisfying for him to grab you and make you laugh/gasp and then blow a raspberry in your neck.

If you're goofy, he'll naturally feed off of your energy. He may not always contribute but he really does need (and enjoy) a good laugh-- especially if you're trying really hard to make HIM laugh. The chopsticks in the mouth as walruses? Loves it.

He has a rather immature sense of humor when it's not sarcastic remarks. But you know what? that's fair. Not really a fan of puns but he loves slapstick and stuff like that. if any of the league slipped on a banana peel he would ride that high for WEEKS.

One of the biggest gags that you and all the league do is that sometimes he'll repeat whatever you say with a straight face. He knows it's ridiculous, he thinks it's funny. Shit like "On the off chance the heroes find out about this, the results will be..."

"Shitty poopoo?" You offer.

"Exactly. Shitty poopoo." He says completely straight, perhaps lip twitching a little trying not to smile, and sends Toga and Twice into hysterics EVERY single time.

Shigaraki is the worst person in the WORLD to play competitive video games with I'm SORRY but he's SUCH a terrible winner. One of the times he really seems his age is when he goes on about how badly you sucked compared to him and how he COMPLETELY owned you. It's not necessarily goofy but this lightheartedness is in the same area for me.

As I've said before, he will roll his eyes at you if you throw completely off the wall what-ifs at him, but he will almost always play along. Those "I want a baby" text message memes? He's the guy who says to steal one, and to make it a good one.

Does the worst mocking All Might impressions in the world. They are always wrong, always different, but most importantly: they are ALWAYS funny.

You two like to make fun of those people on the internet who do those cutesy collage photos and challenges. He likes to put a twist on them so you guys just remake them in your room sometimes in just the most obnoxious and garbage way and then laugh at them together. Making the heart hands together pictures, stuff like that but with something going terribly wrong in the background.

#bnha headcanons #mha headcanons #shigaraki headcanons #bnha x reader #mha x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #gender neutral reader

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shoppncarticles · 1 year

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The Ralts Family

Gen 2 was kinda lacking in terms of humanoid designs, wasn’t it? As in, Pokemon who seemed based on nothing else other than people. Gen 1 had a handful, and Gen 3 surprisingly has one pretty early on with Ralts here.

This little Psychic/Fairy type is titled as the Feeling Pokemon, as Ralts uses its telepathic powers to sense other people’s emotions and try and join in on their current mood. Apparently it does so by using the red horns on its head to pick up the current ‘vibes’ in the general vicinity. This nature is helped by the eye-covering bowl cut appearance it has. It makes Ralts resemble a shy, awkward child who copies those around it to fit in with its surroundings. Its lower body almost looking like excessively baggy pants as well, which is quite charming. Given the recent addition of the Fairy type, you could also read it as some paranormal little human imposter who tries to blend in with other children, like a changeling or something similar.

Ralts’s first evolution is Kirlia, where it appears to have shed its more introverted youthfulness and become a sort of ballet dancer, for whatever reason. It still uses the red crests to read other people’s emotions, and is said to use its psychokinetic powers to create illusions and simply dance better in order to cheer people up and liven up festivities.

Another detail I like about the whole Ralts family is that the green, hair-like coverings on their heads are consistently drawn as solid, shiny shapes in all of their appearances. Despite what some fanart might have you think, it isn’t comprised of several individual strands like human hair or fur. It kind of almost resembles a series of flexible exoskeleton or carapace-like plates, if anything, which is a neat interpretation to add to their designs.

Well, I don’t want to exactly acknowledge the elephant in the room, but if you’re reading this and somehow don’t know about the effect Gardevoir had on this series and its fanbase, color me surprised.

Which is a shame too, because I do enjoy a lot of what Gardevoir has going on. Similar to its previous evolutions, it is a telekinetic humanlike monster that uses its powers to read other people’s emotions and mimic their mannerisms to better appear like a normal part of the world, further increasing the family’s similarities to fantastical humanoid imposters. I’ll repeat that Gardevoir gaining the Fairy type (a whole type often associated with the moon) after its introduction only seems to encourage the idea that it’s some otherworldly mimic. The fact that its legs are obscured in most of its appearances helps to accentuate this. You can almost picture it gliding wistfully along the ground with the dress blowing in the wind, like some ominous apparition. One Pokedex entry even states that Gardevoir possesses enough power to create a miniature black hole, really heightening this thing’s strange, unearthly aura.

Just a bit of a shame then that most of Gardevoir’s reputation is centered around people wanting to pork the poor thing. It doesn’t really help that multiple Pokedex entries state Gardevoir to be utterly devoted to its trainer, always willing to protect and dote on them at a moment’s notice. I don’t think that’s necessarily a bad idea, and could be twisted into a demented siren-like motif if given further development, but sadly Gardevoir doesn’t ever get to deviate that far.

Gardevoir would also gain a Mega Evolution, blowing its dress-like drapings out into full ballroom gown status and prettying up its hair a bit. Don’t forget, now, that Gardevoir is entirely organic and its dress seems to be made of the same stuff the rest of its body is. How this factors into Gardevoir’s biology is a mystery since it sadly is one of the few Mega Evolutions without a Pokedex description. Since it was created after the whole Fairy-type introduction, I’d love to see if it had any further explicit connection with anything of celestial origin.

At least Mega Gardevoir does feel like a dangerously otherworldly thing in practice, given its new ability, Pixelate, turns all Normal-type moves it uses into Fairy-type ones with stronger power. It’s almost as if Gardevoir is somehow altering the very physical nature of its attacks with its celestial powers to become more destructive.

Of course, I do also agree that Gardevoir is a very pretty looking design as well. That can also be a factor at the same time.

Score: 5/5 - PERFECT!

Yeah, yeah. Gardevoir can rock that appearance just as well 50% of the time too, mind you.

Woefully, though, this family isn’t completely perfect, since Gen 4 would come and muddy the waters by introducing Gallade, an all-male counterpart to Gardevoir focused on emphasizing its new Psychic/Fighting type by using its bladed arms in combat.

Why this thing needed to be male-only is beyond me, and what exactly it has to do with the Ralts family at all is a mystery. It doesn’t really fit in with that whole human mimicry type thing anymore, doesn’t seem to really care about reading people’s emotions, and all its Pokedex entries mention is its ability to extend sword-like edges from its arms and protect people. This isn’t even mentioning the utterly weird body shape it's got going on. What is WITH that waist, Gallade??

I suppose the one thing I like about Gallade is its ‘hair’ gaining an extra crest now resembling a spartan helmet. That’s not half bad.

Gallade gets a Mega Evolution too, just because that’s fair I guess. it only serves to muddle its design further with the weird red markings on its arm and addition of two skin-capes. Eh. Gallade’s designs seem to start and stop at ‘what if Gardevoir had sword arms,’ and that just isn’t enough for me to like it, let alone look past everything it gets wrong from its previous form. Sorry, Gallade fans. This one just doesn’t do it for me. At all.

Score: 1/5

[Gen 3 Archive]

#pokemon #pokemon review #ralts #kirlia #gardevoir #mega gardevoir #gallade #mega gallade

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unforeseen-idiot · 6 months

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Shovelwarewolf Season 3

Oh boy the season where things got really interesting, an actual antagonist with a face and everything?, a new location for our favorite angry werewolf?, ALIENS! Excellent season in my book and lets get into why.

E.T the Extra-Terrestrial: Great opener, I love the theme of this season being infamously bad games fits well with Biffalo's whole schtick. I love the back and forth they have with each other. I love the scene where Ivan resolves to get out of the pit, fails once and tries again, and then fails a second time and then rages, just felt really real.

Super Man 64: Another great episode, the Martha bit was maybe a little on the nose, but I still find it funny. I love SWW's commitment to this three-hole punch bit, it starts out as a regular SWW threat, but the fact that he keeps building on it slays me. I love SWW's dramatics in this episode. Plus we get more evidence on the Star Fox Adventures theory.

Night Trap: Ah yes, the game that would turn everyone into serial killing rapists according to the government. Solid episode, like the CDI Zelda games, the dialogue makes SWW's quips even better. I love that Biffalo finally acknowledges the whole glass shattering thing, and his random story about eating a run-over waffle. Gotta love SWW's total pettiness with the vase. He also gave a pretty solid "Reason you suck speech" to that weird general guy. Plus this is the first time we've actually seen Ivan playing a game as a human since Mortal Kombat Mythologies just thought it was cool. And of course the ending twist with Bubsy, so good.

Bubsy 3D: Oh my what a terrible game, it actually hurts thinking about playing it. This is a pretty ok episode, its best parts are in the beginning when we get Biffalo's true motives (seriously he wants to take pictures with kids someone stop him) and the ending when he's so pissed about losing his custom Bubsy Playstation. Plus his utter glee at Bubsy is pretty funny. We also get a solid cliffhanger at the end.

Link the Faces of Evil: Oh what an excellent sequel to last season, the dialogue is only funnier with the slam poetry, reused cutscenes, and SQUADALA WE ARE OFF! I love this episode so much it has great one liners and an acknowledgment of Susan (I remember watching the episode and thinking the exact thing when he said it). I also Love the Shawshank tribute and the chase through the dessert that ends with him being abducted, it probably made no sense to people at the time, but it's so freaking funny.

The Grinch: We've now arrived at the season finale, it's pretty good I like the animations for Mr. Wolf. The setup is decent, not revealing too much of the aliens yet while still giving us a plausible way for him to play games (of course his coma dreams involve shovelware). I know it was meant to serve the Grinch parody, but SWW without a lab coat or otherwise just looks wrong. So Cindy Lou Rareware is a neat character, but she reminds me so much of this girl I knew in middle school it's a little jarring. The ending always makes me feel a little hopeless, like dang the guy is just stuck.

Music:

Season 3 Opening: Oh what a great intro. The strings in the beginning and the banjo, folksy style really sell the creepy vibes of Buffalo Bub and the season's setup.

Season 3 Transformation: It's pretty good, I like the guitar in it. It doesn't really do a whole lot but it serves the purpose very well.

Demented Furry: Excellent villain theme for Biffalo. It gives off a great mistrusting and creepy feel that goes great with our Bubsy obsessed hillbilly.

Demented Furry (Choir Version): Same song, but with a slower piano and an awesome sounding choir behind it. Very foreboding.

Live or Die: Oh my gosh oh my gosh oh my gosh. This song man. THIS SONG! It goes so freaking hard. The metal guitar riffs, the brass, the synth it all comes together so well. I never paid much attention to it until now and I fell in love. It completely creates a great climatic tension to a very tense scene.

Mr. Wolf: It's a Grinch parody. Does a great job especially when coupled with the animation. The singer is so petty with lines like, "Someone should through you back in a 39 and a half foot hole" like dude that probably traumatized him, lay off.

Couch Gag: This is a pretty good one, just Biffalo Bub being Biffalo Bub and playing with action figures (I feel like AJ improvised these, not in a bad way just that this feels like stuff he'd come up with on the fly). The last one was honestly so real, like you'd think that you'd make your "if you're watching this I'm dead video" a little funny to lighten the mood, but I mean, it would probably just bum me out too.

So ye overall, I love the season, great set, great tension, great villain, and horrible games. It also sets up a very good season coming up.

#shovelwarewolf #howlaween #Idk maybe coulda used more Susan #Biffalo had a great back and forth with Ivan #Like all of our main “people who talk to Ivan before after and while he plays games” have great back and forth in their own unique ways.#Biffalo and Ivan just gave off a great annoying guy and person who just hates and is mildly creeped out by him.#I don't have many stray thoughts #I kinda feel bad they had to destroy a retro tv #I mean it was probably broken beforehand but still sad.

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cowboylexapro · 1 year

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um um so like what do quincy and bianca like to do for fun?? do either of them draw really demented pictures of their family and their dads have to be like "wow that looks great honey" because they really did try their best but neil and todd will be sleeping with one eye open for the rest of the week?? general question that got oddly specific at the end but yeah

dearest quentin picked up crochet from his dad todd, bianca plays softball

and for the second question, definitely. bianca was basically attached to neil from abt 0-11 and would be like "i drew u smth!!" and it would be them 'in a rose field' but it just looks like they're in a pool of blood

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kitsunati · 2 years

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One step at a time

So, it was Batman Day this saturday, and I finished watching Harley Quinn’s fantastic third season this week. So I don’t know, tonight I suddenly was in the mood to write a little thing about Batman, and about Harley, inspired by the events of this season. I’ve never written Batman fanfiction before; I barely even wrote fanfiction of anything since I started writing years and years ago, but...why not, he? Also, english is not my first language (french is), and I rarely wrote stories in english, so it’s probably a little wonky. But I’m glad I did it, mainly because I had so much trouble writing those last few years. I think it’s the first story I did in a long, long time, and it felt good. So, here it is:

One Step at a Time

He was crouching on a gargoyle, but the nice one ; the one that has still its two eyes, and only one ear broken. He didn't really know why, it was just natural at this point. He saw a gargoyle, he climbed it, and that was that. And it's not like it was complicated to find a gargoly on the roofs of Gotham City. The bloody things where everwhere, like rides in the demented merry-go-round that was Gotham City in the night, the same eternal night where criminals rampant and the memory of pearls hitting the ground was here, always here, and...

Batman shook his head. He couldn't think like that anymore. Not always, like he did since that night(1). That's why he was here. To, maybe, find the thing that would...well, that wouldn't make it all go away, that wasn't the goal, and that was impossible, but...that could make it just a little better, somehow. And as much as he tried -well, that wasn't somwething he could do on his own. Not this. Never this. And the Batfamily couldn't help either. That wasn't entirely true : of course they helped, in a million ways he was often to proud to admit with words. He could talk a dangerous maniac out of their homicidal plan, but when it came to talk, really talk with his family... Let's say it was a work in progress. But the kids, that wasn't their burden to bear, god knows they had enough of their own trauma to deal with. And Alfred... Alfred was too close to the picture to really give it a new spin. He needed...something else. Finally admiting had been a difficult first step, one he took grinding his teeth...but he took it nonetheless. He just had to wait.

Wait for her. She was oddly ponctual, he gave her that. Every time, she climbed the building the same way, passing under the same gargoyles ; he took the time to know her schedule. Batman was never late, after all. He heard her before he saw the colors she loved so much ; he waited for her to pass under the gargoyle...and pounced, landing right before her, a muscular shadow in an impressive costume stepping out the dark, the visor of his helmet giving his eyes the unforgiving white look he was known for.

« Bejeezus, Batsy ! »

Harley Quinn recoiled, her two hands on the baseball bat that never left her side (2). She wore bright colors, like she did more and more, and not only the red and the black shes was infamous for. Tonight, she wore leggins with spots of color blending into each other, and a green tank top with a « Save the plants ! » spelt with little roses, each a different color. Her two ponytails, pink and blue, where dangling at the side of her head as she walked right into Batman, liberating a hand to point him right in the torso with an angry finger,

« You know you have to work on that ! You don't jumb on your therapist ! »

« Sorry. Force of habit. For my defense, my therapist used to jump on me pretty often. Generally with something like a big hammer. To bash my face in. I recall it was with a big fish once, a believe a sort of swordfish ! »

« We agreed we'd never talk about the fish ! »

« I thought it was your job to make people talk about the fish. »

« Not that fish. » She shuddered, her eyes lost in one of those memory that could never be spoken out loud, because the univierse would probably explose or something. One second later, she was back as her own self, beaming a big smile : « You came ! It's the third appointment, and you continue to...well, not avoid them, like the...what, five first times we tried to do this ? »

« The third time, it was because The Flash rebooted the universe -again- and I was stuck in a loop where I was pirate dinosaur ! »

« I'm never here for the interesting stuff... And the four other times ? »

« Yeah, I avoided those. Sorry. » He smiled. A rare and true Batman smile. The first time, it scarled Harley and she nearly hit him in the teeth to fracture this unatural vision. But today, three seances in, she was starting to get used to it. A little like you got used to the weird picture on the wall of your parents house. She sit cross-legged on the roof, her bat on her knees, and she patted a tile, inviting her patient to do the same. He did, and for a few second they just enjoyed the silence. Under them, the Arkham Asylum was a fierce and distorded vision in the night, but they were high enough to not hear patient scream.

« Why here ? » She took something in her pockets, a pair of black rimmed glasses she always liked to wear when she was doing something vaguely professional.

« Well, I... »

« Tut tut tut, I'm not done with my costume yet ! » She had a little notepad in one hand, a pen in the other. « Now I'm ready ! You can't rush the psychology, dude ! »

« You're wearing one of Ivy's shirts again, I see. »

« I don't give eyes exams. I was more in the habit of like, popping them up with knives or something ! »

« But not anymore. Now, you wear your girlfriend's shirt to work, you get one of your old enemies to open about himself before he goes completely banana, and you haven't opped an eyeball in ages...or have you ? »

« Maaaaybe ? Oh, and for the record, let us know that I'm writing in my little therapeutic notepad that Batman said « Completely banana » ! »

« No one will ever believe you. » That smile, again. She hoped he didn't forced that on the poor kids.

« So, what d'ya want to talk about today, my bat-patient ? My batient ? He, we'll workshop it. »

« You should try having Manbat on one of these, I'm sure it would be illuminating. »

« Don't divert, dude ! We're here to talk about ya ! Well, you're here to talk about you. I'm here to listen and doodle in my lil' notepad when it get to « the night is dark, I am the night, I am your coffee in the morning, and all that. »

« I know, I know. I just... I'm not used to it. To really speak about...any of it. I'm still getting to grasps with the fact that you know who I... »

« People get psychically transported in other people psyches by supervillains every tuesday on this universe. It's not big deal. And you know I won't tell. Patient-confidentiality and all that jazz. »

« That, and because you're a good person now, Harley. »

« Shut up. I'm...I'm just me, always a work in progress, and when I saw how sad and pathetic it was in this lil' nuggin' of yours, I couldn't do nothing. It would have been like kicking a puppy in the balls and I never were that far gone. »

« I just... Thank you Harley, I mean it. It was...time. It was more than time, in fact. »

« Yeah, yeah, I've enough roses at home, so stop throwing them on the roof. Speaking of... why here ? Why Arkham and not your fancy manor ? »

« It's...more grounded that way, I guess. They go through it, I should too. »

« Not really the same thing : I don't see the padded jacket and your still a multibillionaire with enough issues to fill up at least three cosy retreat facilities with what isn't right in this bat head of yours. »

« Step by step, I guess. »

« And even a little step is better than no step. I mean it. » She did. This...arrangement, as weird and unatural it seemd at the start...well, it was not working exactly, not yet, but it was doing something. For him, but for her too. She still didn't know who she was now that she didn't want to define herself as a villain anymore. And she could never go back to Harleen either, it didn't work like that. She just had to find what would come next. And maybe...maybe it started with helping the traumatized little boy who was hding inside the scary man dressed as as bat.

Yep, they'll be there a while.

But it was a start. Sometimes, that's all you could ask.

« So ! She said. « Last time, you started talking about this near death experience with... »

She spoke, and he spoke, and on this night in Gotham City, two people who spent so much time fighting each other were actually trying to...help each other ?

One step at a time.

You know, that night ! Everyone and their mother knows about that night ! You can go to anyone who hasn't read a comic in their life and told them about the night, they would know about the friggin' night !

Well, except with this bizarre incident with the llama.

#batman #batmanday #harleyquinn #batmanfanfic #harleyfanfic #fanfic

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allaboutmimi · 2 years

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The Pandemic Meets Mad Mask

July 3, 2022

by Mimi Williams

AllAboutMimi

As a teenager I watched the Mad Max movies, and I remember thinking “Those people are nuts! Who would act like that? And more importantly, who would dress like that?” Would all the designers get together at the beginning of an apocalypse and say “Ok, I’m thinking a desperate, cannibalistic vibe, maybe something in fur and plastic? Think chains and spikes, darling!” It was so out there! I mean, how do you ever get to that point? That’s ridiculous! It would never happen! And then we rang in 2020…

When it all started, I felt like I was in the beginning of a disaster movie. Store shelves were empty, supermarket customers were duking it out for the last box of popsicles, and people were hoarding toilet paper and hand sanitizer. Everyone was wearing a mask and looking crazy. I half expected people to start gathering in Boulder and Vegas and set off a nuke, like Stephen King’s novel “The Stand”.

You couldn’t buy face masks or latex gloves anywhere, so the first time I went grocery shopping during the pandemic I wore my fur sleep mask over my mouth and nose and a pair of black leather winter driving gloves. I looked like a demented diva doing the walk of shame after a tempestuous night, ready to assassinate a Giant Eagle manager with my pocketbook over a peanut butter shortage. Remember Mad Max? Yeah… this is how we get there!

I was so scared my family would get sick, especially my husband who is a Type 1 diabetic. So I decided to make him a mask. I have no sewing abilities whatsoever, but I have pretty good crafting ideas, and am very resourceful, so how hard could it be?

Let me just say, it was definitely not medical grade, nor do I have plans to launch an Etsy mask store. Don’t look for me on Shopify any time soon. I ended up with a huge rectangle of fabric sewn around 2 hair ties to loop over the ears, and even managed to put a pouch in it for a filter. I didn’t want to use a coffee filter like other ingenious home mask makers, because, you know, water and coffee can get through that. Unless covid germs are bigger than the size of coffee grounds, that didn’t inspire my confidence.

Then I got one of my more brilliant ideas…I decided to use a maxi pad! My man was going to have super protection! Nothing was getting past that sucker! Not germs! Not a virus! Not oxygen! Not dignity! He wore it once, to take a picture that he posted on Facebook, with both of us doubled up in laughter. Then he probably put it in a time capsule and buried it in the backyard so that future generations could learn about what we wore during the pandemic and guffaw over it. And so he would never have to wear it in public.

After that, I spent the next two years convinced I had been in a car accident, hit my head, and was actually in a coma at a hospital somewhere and this was all a bad dream. Unfortunately, the way things are still going in the world today, it seems I haven’t come out of it yet!

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cathademia · 2 years

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Boyfriend had to hold me back from seething at the sight of a “baby room” in Church

#op #I am cautiously open to the idea of a quiet room #if someone is over stimulated #but in general I think the Mass is an opportunity to experience community #and community isn’t just able bodied working adults between 20 and 65 #it’s the infants and the demented and the autistic and the hard of hearing and the blind and it’s nursing women and schizophrenics #it’s all of us not just the people who look pretty in pictures #baby rooms tell a congregation that crying children and thus babies INHERENTLY are not worth the minor annoyance of their noise at Mass #it also implies that they somehow need the Mass less #not here for it

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sincerelystranger · 3 years

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author: a follow up to my little modern short because I have no self-control and watching Addicted has made me feral for school age romance

---

Wangji is studying his notes for his exams.

Wangji is studying his notes, but actually he’s thanking all known deities known to man and then some.

Wangji is studying his notes and thanking all the gods, but actually he’s busy trying not to stare too intensely at Wei Ying’s bare feet.

Because Wei Ying is on Wangji’s bed, wearing soft sweatpants and Wangji’s sweater, and his feet are bare and they’re the safest thing Wangji can allow himself to focus on or he might combust.

Actually, he might combust anyway, because who has such fucking perfect feet? It isn’t fair.

Even his feet are perfect.

Wangji feels like the most perverted person in the world, but he can’t stop.

He recites the national anthem three times in his head and mentally apologizes to his uncle for having such impure thoughts in his house.

He’s the worst. The worst. Really the worst. And he is totally going to remember those feet later when he’s alone and –

“What are you thinking about, Lan Zhan?” Wei Ying asks innocently, breaking Wangji from his sordid thoughts.

“You said you would study,” Wangji replies instead, because he doesn’t want to lie but he’d rather die than admit what he was thinking.

Wei Ying pouts and turns to stretch out on Wangji’s bed. A sliver of skin shows as his sweatshirt rides up and Wangji tries to look respectfully. Not hungrily like some demented pervert.

“I am studying,” Wei Ying sighs, patting at the book he had been reading.

“I doubt that manga will help you pass your exams,” Wangji replies pointedly. Staring at Wei Ying probably won’t help Wangji pass his exams either but at least he’s pretending to make an effort.

“What if Shei-laoshi asks what a fade away shot is for extra credit?” Wei Ying asks seriously, “If I didn’t read Slam Dunk, then I would never know and I wouldn’t get the extra credit.”

Wangji sighs and turns his head a little bit, because he doesn’t want to reward Wei Ying for his silliness by showing him a smile. “Why would our history teacher ask us about basketball terminology?”

“You know he loves basketball,” Wei Ying replies easily. “Did you know he has a picture of Yao Ming on his desk? Not even a picture of his kids or wife – just Yao Ming!”

Wangji shakes his head again, because of course Wei Ying knows that about Shei-laoshi. Of course.

They work in silence again for a while. Wangji valiantly trying to focus on his notes, and Wei Ying laid out of Wangji’s bed, bathed by the soft sunlight coming in through Wangji’s window. Looking so soft and warm and perfect that Wangji aches.

He wants to crawl into his bed and pull Wei Ying into his arms. See if he actually is as warm and soft as he looks. Wangji wants to tangle his feet with Wei Ying’s and see what that perfect arch feels like against the top of his own feet.

He wants…

Wei Ying turns to his side and makes eye contact with Wangji.

He blinks slowly at Wangji and Wangji has a split second of hysteria where he wonders if Wei Ying can read his thoughts.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying says, and his voice is soft and a little bit sleepy.

“Mm?” Wangji hums, trying his best to act naturally.

“What do you think about Nie Huiasang?” Wei Ying asks.

Nie Huaisang?

“He is tolerable,” Wangji answers. Because that’s really all he has to say. Nie Huaisang is a below average student at best, but he isn’t cruel to anyone and he generally means well.

“Do you think it’s strange that he’s… gay?” Wei Ying asks, his voice still soft, “Do you think it’s… gross?”

His question makes Wangji’s heart beat loudly in his chest. It makes the tips of his fingers tingle and his throat ache.

Wangji swallows before answering. He desperately wants to tear his eyes from Wei Ying’s but something about Wei Ying’s gaze keeps him there.

“No,” he answers and it comes out more steady than he feels. “Do you?”

Wei Ying just looks at him for a long second. His eyes dark and impossibly difficult to read.

Wangji wonders if Wei Ying can hear how loudly his heart is beating in his chest.

Wei Ying blinks finally and shakes his head a little bit. “No,” he says, “Not at all.”

Wangji swallows again, feeling immeasurably relieved for some reason. He feels almost shaky with how relieved he feels.

“That’s good,” he says stupidly. He turns his head back to his notes then, feeling embarrassed and suddenly shy. He feels so stupid for feeling so relieved because it doesn’t mean anything.

Wei Ying is just a good person and so what if Nie Huaisang liking men doesn’t gross him out? It doesn’t mean that he likes it.

It doesn’t mean that he wouldn’t be grossed out by Wangji...

Wei Ying hums an affirmation and Wangji can see him stretch again from the corner of his eye.

“Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying calls again.

Wangji turns to look at him.

It’s so unfair.

It’s not fair for one person to be so beautiful. Because how is Wangji’s heart supposed to survive this?

“I’m gonna nap a little bit, okay?” Wei Ying says, giving Wangji a soft, tired smile. “Wake me up in an hour, okay?”

It takes a moment for Wangji to process Wei Ying’s request.

“Mn,” he nods finally. He watches Wei Ying close his eyes before he turns his head back to his notes.

He forces himself to read his notes beginning to end one time before he lets himself look at Wei Ying again.

Wangji isn’t going to survive this.

His heart is going to combust and Wangji is going to die in his room. Aching and aching and aching for a boy who will leave him after graduation and probably forget him just as quickly as he came into Wangji’s life.

It isn’t fair.

Wangji scoots over to his bed and looks at Wei Ying’s sleeping face.

Wei Ying’s eyelashes are stupidly long – the girls in Wangji’s class always say this and Wangji agrees with them – and he looks strangely innocent and young as he sleeps.

Wangji’s fingers hover over Wei Ying’s face, along his forehead, down the bridge of his nose, to the slight part of his lips as he breathes long and even.

Wangji isn’t going to survive this, but maybe if he can memorize this moment, it’ll help him survive a little bit longer when Wei Ying leaves.

Wangji gently places a finger on Wei Ying’s forehead and slowly pushes the stray piece of hair there away from his face.

Every cell in his body wants to kiss him.

He turns back to his notes.

Wangji is studying his notes for his exams.

Wangji is studying his notes but actually he wants to kiss Wei Ying.

Wangji is studying his notes and he wants to kiss Wei Ying, but actually he’s trying to tell his heart that it will be okay.

(It won’t be okay)

#wangxian #modern au #the untamed #mdzs

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warsamongthestars · 3 years

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Original Character profile time!

This is Brexpy, the (fanon) 5th Member of the Bad Batch.

His enhancements are Speed, Flexibility and Reflexes; along side a time perception shift and thought process focus (mix Bullet Speed Slow Mo with Sherlock Holmes’ Thought scan from 2009; and that’s it). Weaknesses include: - Nerve Spasms. Occasionally exhaustion takes him, but the adrenaline leaves him a shaking mess. Luckily these events are rare in adulthood, but were problems in his childhood. - Insomnia. The constant needs of movement interferes with his sleep. He has to start taking pills for it. - High Metabolism. Can’t keep up with speeds like that without having to down some major carbs. Doesn’t ever get bigger no matter how much he scarfs. - Low Fortitude. Unlike the rest of the TBB, Brexpy can’t tank hits or hold ground for any length of time. If he can’t think on his feet or react quickly, he goes down fast. - Weak Blood Vessels. Sometimes, the physical pushes he does when performing will burst the weakest blood vessels. He often may remove his helmet with a nose and face running with blood. Sometimes that even includes the eyes. He has a reputation for looking demented on long, stressful missions.

His role in the Bad Batch is Stealth Expert, and Backup Scout. He climbs, he gets into places, he does what he needs to, and he fucks off. This makes him work well with splicing expert Tech, or to cover / be covered by the Sniper Crosshair. He’s more often paired with Crosshair, as Crosshair’s sight can keep up with Brexpy in both motion and distance. Crosshair is often the One-Shot needed to get Brexpy out of a bad situation, and Brexpy can reach the high places Crosshair has to help out if overrun. - TRIVIA: They like being snippy with each other (Crosshair says something bastardly, and Brexpy fires something right back; Crosshair is perceptive, but Brexpy is quick).

He’s backup Scout, as Hunter’s senses regarding electromagnetic radiation and Magnetoreception makes it difficult to navigate urban environments. Brexpy can run and parkour like a sunnuvabitch, making him ideal in on City Worlds and Ships.

Brexpy is the Shortest, at 5′8 feet or 1.73 meters, marking him as possibly the shortest full grown clone (All other Clones are 6 foot / 1.83 meters; even Hunter is 5′11 / 1.83). - TRIVIA: For a while, he feared that his chosen name was going to be “Short Ass”. Luckily, this did not become the case. - TRIVIA: Wrecker has made it a game to get Brexpy in a hug. Brexpy dodges and jumps about, but its often within Wrecker’s space as to make the game “fair”. Occasionally, Wrecker wins, with much loud rejoicing. This mostly came out Brexpy being so Small in comparison to Wrecker. - TRIVIA: Crosshair pulls no punches in making fun of Brexpy’s height. But if any Regs tried, they’d get decked.

His name is actually shortened. His full name is “Break Speed”, but that’s a mouthful. He got it because, in his youth, he had a hard time stopping himself when running, and ended up going body first into walls on several occasions.

His Equipment is primarily a small proto-Bryar Pistol, with illegal overload modification (Like a pre K-16... You know the one, Dark Forces fans), and a Vibroblade. While he is trained in blasters and rifles, his stealth and speed require agile precision or ending conflicts quickly. - TRIVIA: Think of splitting Sev from Republic Commandos into two people; the Sniper side goes to Crosshair, and the melee to Brexpy. - TRIVIA: ... Does this make Brexpy Scorch? Is he gonna be voiced by Carth Onasi?

As a character for TBB, Brexpy fulfills a mix of the Funny Guy with Lancer. In spite of being very active in action with a constant desire to move or dive into whatever curiosity of the day he’s found, Brexpy has seemingly lazily smug attitude.

He’s Rash and Quick to Temper when compared to Hunter and Crosshair’s cool and quiet natures. Both he and Crosshair are Snippy, but where Crosshair Jabs, Brexpy jokes. Though that doesn’t mean that Brexpy won’t snap something at the wrong time, he’s just a lot quicker to feel bad about it.

He’s Moderate intelligence to Tech’s Genius, but often requires Tech to either get to the point or slow down-- Brexpy’s Job can’t take fields of text and still be successful, he doesn’t have time for an entire paragraph.

Brexpy and Wrecker are easily excitable, though to compare, Brexpy is a lot more coolheaded than Wrecker is. Still, they’re prone to competition. You can occasionally catch Brexpy rambling about something to Wrecker.

Between Brexpy and Echo, there’s a lot of arguments. Echo is soldierly, but thoughtful, in comparison to Brexpy’s quick and often automatic reactions. Echo is more a people person, where Brexpy tends to be suspicious around folks he doesn’t know. Echo will follow Regulations and Orders, while Brexpy tends to filter Orders with careful “deafness” and general Common Sense. In Escort Missions, Brexpy often has to act as Echo’s second Hand (While Crosshair is the Eye in the Sky).

Unlike Hunter, Brexpy quickly loses focus or is hyperfocused. He can’t sit still to do paperwork to save his life, tends to nod off in long briefs or during Tech’s lectures. But if he’s on mission, you can nearly expect him to be awake for Days.

As the Stealth Expert, he can be surprisingly Patient and Perceptive, and can even sit still long enough to make insightful observations. He’s made a habit of breaking into places, even if those places are his own bases of operation (He believes that you should always know how to break into your own spaces). - TRIVIA: He was prone to sneaking off and around Kamino, and was infamous for being frustratingly difficult to catch when caught.

As the Primary Melee Weapon User, he’s trained in both the Vibroblade and hand-to-hand combat. He acts and reacts according to his target’s weaknesses, and fights dirty. If he can’t cut you down, he’ll put you down.

Under the Chip, His Stealth expert goes straight into Assassin Territory. He moves fast, jumps fast, reacts fast, and goes in with a Vibroblade. This is a soldier meant to face Jedi face-to-face, and keep up. He goes for the Weaknesses, and he will not relent.

Narrative wise Brexpy is Dead during the currently show timeline (Dubbed the “Dis Line”). He died thanks to complications after his first growth cycle with his enhancement, so he never made it off Kamino. His heart simply beat too fast for his body to keep up, and he dropped.

The picture shown above, where Brexpy is lighting a cigarette on a trophy lightsaber, is the timeline where only He survives and not the BBs. This is the “Luka Line”, where the Dark Forces Saga takes place, and Brexpy is one of the last surviving Clones. His Jedi, were it an official assignment, would first be Morgan Katarn, then inherited Kyle Katarn after Morgan’s death. Brexpy is that one asshole who breaks into a place before Kyle, and lays ammo and Bacta in convenient places, but never cuts down most of the enemies.

#star wars #star wars clone wars #star wars bad batch #star wars dark forces #star wars jedi knights #star wars OC #my art #brexpy

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marginalgloss · 3 years

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It occurred to me recently that I haven’t posted here for about nine months, and that if you knew nothing about me except for this blog, you might think that it something of a cliffhanger that I ended it on a post about expecting the arrival of my first child. (Or perhaps that would have been an entirely fitting way to end it.) Either way: I am fine, and we are fine, and last November brought the arrival of my son Robin into my life. I have been very busy almost every day since.

There are a couple of cliches about parenting that remain indisputably true. The first is that they grow up so fast. And the second is that nothing prepares you for it. We thought we were entirely ready and pretty well informed but from his delivery onwards nothing went as planned. We thought we’d feed him when he was hungry, and we’d put him to sleep when he was tired; and change his nappies, and play with him, and love him; and what else was there to it, really?

It turns out there is a lot more to it than that. Before Robin I never realised how polarised, how strained and how political people’s feelings are about matters of childcare. We’ve ended up raising him in ways we had never previously considered, partly out of necessity, and partly out of the kind of habits that grow into paths of desire across the days. Consciously or not I judge people who do things differently, and no doubt they judge me too. In spite of the reams of available literature it turns out that for many things — perhaps even most things — there isn’t necessarily a right or a wrong way to proceed.

Here is a third cliche that turns out to be extremely valuable: every baby is different.

The question of literature is a tricky one. In search of assistance I read a few parenting manuals; some of these turned out to be better than others, but I’ve yet to find a good book about what it means to be a father. Most books aimed at new dads are of the ‘pull your socks up’ variety — the kind of thing where the author imagined it thrust upon some feckless deadbeat by a weary spouse. But, being reasonably conscientious, and looking for something with a bit more depth than a guide to how to change nappies, I’ve found most books about parenting have little of interest to say to new fathers.

Being a dad is an odd thing to write about. I’ve read and heard people talk about how new mothers ought to be proud to be joining a kind of grand universal maternal tradition, one which predates even humanity itself. (Animals surely know about babies; witness my cat Louie’s endless patience with Robin’s various attempts to pull his ears off.)

People do not generally talk about the grand traditions of fatherhood in this way. And for good reason: a lot of men today wouldn’t be happy to follow the example of their own fathers, let alone imitate the conditions of detachment and distance that defined fatherhood for centuries. I want to say that expectations of fathers today have never been higher; but this is only because for most of recorded history, we had no expectations of fathers at all. In the space of perhaps two or three generations we have gone from the idea that a father should only have to provide for a child’s upkeep (and not slap them around too much) to a very immediate understanding of dadhood as a central plank of parenthood.

Perhaps a lot of this speaks more to my own insecurities than it does to anyone else’s. Still, I feel like there’s an easy camaraderie between mothers that isn’t apparent between fathers. My wife has developed a little circle of local mums with whom she’s in constant communication, whereas the WhatsApp group we created for the fathers in our NCT group has languished in silence. I don’t really have anyone with whom to compare notes. And what would we say if I did?

The pandemic has put us in an unusual situation. Ordinarily I would have had two weeks’ paid paternity leave, plus any holiday time taken alongside that. So I took three weeks off work — but I’m still working from home every day, as I have been since March 2020. This means that instead of watching me disappear to work five days a week, my son has spent every day of his life together so far with both his parents. I don’t even know where to begin with writing about the way this has changed us; perhaps I won’t know how to talk about it until it comes to an end.

It does mean that parenting feels like it has consumed my life in ways that might not have otherwise been the case. Being at home for so long with a new baby was a remarkable opportunity, and in the early days — through winter and the Christmas lockdown — it didn’t feel like I was missing out on much. Things are a little different now. Every absence independent from my family feels like it requires a negotiation as much with myself as with anyone else. And I don’t only mean literal absences. Someone new has come into my life and they have no tolerance for anything else that might be meaningful to me. So many of the things against which I used to define myself have necessarily had to be neglected.

It goes without saying that I haven’t written much. Whatever free time I have at the moment is normally spent collapsed in an exhausted heap on the sofa, watching TV. I can count the number of books I’ve actually finished in the last eight months on one hand; I have started and set aside perhaps two dozen. I feel very remote from the person who spent several years documenting here every book he finished.

Games have fared a little better. In the early days, when I found myself with some late night hours to myself, I picked up the remastered Bioshock collection. It took me months, but I eventually finished all three: the first game is a masterpiece, the second is a very decent sequel, and the third is probably the greatest missed opportunity in all of gaming. (I ended up writing several thousands of words about the games, over the course of weeks — the only thing of substance I’ve written since Robin was born, in fact — which I since abandoned, in a fit of self-doubt and impatience with my own tortuous style.)

But I mean it when I say that the first game is a masterpiece. I had forgotten just how immensely absorbing it is — a journey into another world that’s less realistic than it is gloriously theatrical. Every time I think about it I feel like I want to replay it again. And it never really occurred to me before that Bioshock is about parenting as much as it is a picture of Objectivism in decay. It hits different now, as the kids say.

While driving over the weekend I passed the word ‘DADDY’ outlined in rich pink flowers, laid in memorial at the centre of a roundabout. It made me flinch. Every time I see that word in whatever context it seems to come with an intimation of departure. And in the same way every time I think about this game it seems laden with the feeling of a dying fall that nobody ever really seems to talk about. You play as a kind of genetically modified clone, returning home to his unwelcoming father and near-absent mother in a demented inversion of the Odysseus tale; and the only good you can do in this world is to rescue the handful of innocents left within it. You have to become a father yourself, in a sense. But your days are numbered.

The ending of the original Bioshock is often written off as a bit of a joke. You fight a deliriously incongruous final boss, and then depending on your actions through the rest of the game, you get to see one of two final sequences. In the bad ending, the denizens of Rapture somehow steal a nuclear submarine, and it’s implied that something very bad follows. But the good ending has more to it than that. You return to the surface, and it’s implied that you adopt some of the Little Sisters you rescued down there as though they were your daughters. There’s a brief montage of scenes from an assortment of lives. A graduation. A marriage. A child reaching for a parent’s hand. And then a death bed. The hands of your daughters reach out for you one last time.

After perhaps twenty hours of gameplay this sequence is perhaps less than a minute long. It feels rushed, awkward, sentimental. But as a coda, it also has the outstanding benefit of being perfectly real.

#robin #personal #fatherhood #video games #bioshock

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stevenbasic · 3 years

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I’d...I’d never done this before. Like an infirm I’d barely left my bed, once to toast some bread which I called my dinner. Several times for water, for the bathroom, on shaky legs.. Once I’d even made it to the shower, to scrub off the filth I’d been wallowing in since arriving home from work yesterday. But here I was again, in the dark on my miserable mattress, soft pajama shorts around my knees, scrolling through her feed. Watching, refreshing, waiting for new pictures, new comments. I’d gone beyond obsessed. Maybe I didn't even know it at the time, but there was something wrong...

It’s like my cock was mocking me, challenging me, hovering thick and throbbing once again over my belly, raw. It had been...I’d lost track. An unbelievable number of times, since yesterday, each one draining me, weakening me, but giving me no real, lasting peace. The relief was always just temporary; and it inevitably returned, swelling. I’d allowed myself to fall into a spiral, the old t-shirts laying in a pile, thickening at my bedside with my crust and goo, a testament to my pathetic, masturbatory bender. I’d always been well-endowed, but it was much bigger than it should be.

“g-go away..!”

Like a distraught, deranged, demented cretin, I’d taken to speaking to it, cursing it, begging it for mercy. “st-stop it stop it stop” I’d say, all the while flogging myself, wide-eyed as I goggled at a new bra shot, or an old bikini pic from the beach. But it, the only part of me that looked strong any more, nine-plus inches of veined, bullish meat on my thin frame, only laughed silently at my pleas.

It had put me in a daze, any willpower I'd ever had not even a factor anymore. I’d just promised myself for the fourth time - just before midnight - that I’d stop, that i’d try to get some sleep, finally abandon the brutish thing between my legs when a text came through...my first all day...

shit shit shit. of course i’m not going out now - not only am I a wreck, I’m too chickenshit, I thought to myself, and besides...she’s home. With her cat.

dammit why…? Why am I…? Amidst all these other ugly feelings, this loathing self-reproach, I’m also jealous, laying here alone, in the dark, in the glow of my phone. Seeing all these guys she’s teasing online, these men “simping” for her...it burns me up. Or hearing about Friday night, at the bar they’d been at, the “goons”, as Amelia called them, probably flirting, leering, drinking, dancing. Why was I feeling jealous, possessive? I knew it was unreasonable, but it...it vexed me, and just fueled my already-angry cock to thicker and thicker lengths, made it throb with rage. It had dwarfed me all day, bullied me, and I was too emotionally bereft to fight but ffffffuck….I can’t...I can’t have others... doing that...with her…

The jealousy. It made no sense, but still it drove me nuts. I writhed, laying there, in impotent fury, mewling and whining and actually groaning her name

“Melisssssa….” I moaned, quietly.

“Missyyyyy….” Out to the empty room. There’s no one here to hear you you pathetic fuck.

“Muh-muh-Melissssssyyyyyy…..” A grunt, another, a groan, louder.

“Muh….” grunt grunt grunt

“Muh…muh....” grunt grunt

Oh god no…no, you...you...don;t say it...

I groaned it to the room, to the darkness, to the photo and her huge, huge tits:

“Mommyyyyyy…..”

================================

original morph by jayjay88, with my face swap and general Photoshop shenanigans. And thanks to Patron DeniseAddict for his inspiration.

My Patreon - next post (#138) available now.

#Growing Into the Job

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invisibleicewands · 3 years

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His beard bloomed and his hair sprang forth, like a riot of corkscrews, during lockdown. Now Michael Sheen sweeps on to the National Theatre’s Olivier stage in the manner of an Old Testament prophet descending from Mount Snowdon – or must we call it Yr Wyddfa?

Sheen is best known as a great mimic who played Chris Tarrant in last year’s TV series about the Who Wants To Be A Millionaire coughing scandal, Quiz, and Tony Blair in the 2006 film The Queen opposite Helen Mirren – plus David Frost in Peter Morgan’s play and film Frost/Nixon and Brian Clough in the The Damned United movie.

Here though he takes on the role of the narrator in Lyndsey Turner’s bittersweet revival of Dylan Thomas’s verse drama written for radio in 1954 – re-imagined here in a care home. [...]

Looking pallid and paunchy in his creased shirt and saggy trousers, Sheen takes the role of the story’s narrator, made famous by Richard Burton. Only here, Sheen relates the tale not to the audience but to his father, whose memories have been robbed by Alzheimer’s.Inebriated by the whisky he keeps hidden in his jacket, Sheen stumbles eagerly through the verse as if making it up as he goes along – painting pictures of people (and their dreams) in the Carmarthenshire port that lies ‘fast, and slow, asleep’. [...] The care home setting does feel cheerless at first, but it’s a clever way of focusing the rambling yarn. And furniture on casters – including a shop counter, steaming stove and kitchen table, set with multiple cloths to denote different homes – add a sense of magic and playfulness.Nor could you wish for a more loquacious, richer narrator than hirsute, woody-voiced Sheen, who looks like he’s been training outside an off-licence. I just wish it had been bookended with silence rather than someone else’s words. DailyMail

[...] On the circular stage of the reconfigured, socially distanced Olivier auditorium, Brown’s character patiently sets about starting up the day’s routine with the residents drifting in to sit and talk and stare into space. But the temperature climbs with the unexpected arrival of Mr. Jenkins’ son Owain (Michael Sheen), whose short-fuse exasperation turns swiftly to anger when his father cannot or will not communicate with him. Calmed by the staff, he and his father begin looking at an old family photograph album and Thomas’s original text takes over, now presented as a portrait of the village of Mr. Jenkins’ not-quite-forgotten past. [...] Whenever it is staged — it was last seen at the National 25 years ago — the chief problem is the lack of momentum. Characters’ (in)actions lack consequences, which makes it hard to engage with them except on a momentary basis. Owen and Turner’s new frame seeks to address that directly by making Sheen’s character not an inert, impartial observer but a man desperate to tell the story to and with his father in order to connect, to awaken his father’s distracted mind. Previously neutral descriptions are thus charged up, which intermittently animates proceedings. [...] The ultimate moment of connection between father and son is affecting but the production’s dangerous proximity to unearned sentimentality is also visible. And in the foregoing hour and three-quarter running time (with no interval), the sustained inertia grows wearing. There’s welcome tenderness aplenty but, when it comes to storytelling, there’s too much telling and, alas, too little story. Variety

Michael Sheen is terrific in Dylan Thomas’s linguistic tour de force, which remains undimmed by the years [...] The whole home thing is a nice enough idea that ambles on agreeably… but it’s a thrill when the play proper starts: it feels like the air suddenly fizzes and crackles when Sheen’s narrator introduces us to Llareggub on one ‘starless and Bible-black’ night. Ultimately, the care home business feels minor and diversionary, a framework to (kind of) explain why the poem is being performed. But it doesn’t really have a payoff or purpose beyond the performance of the poem itself. I'm not sure anyone really needs my opinion on I ‘Under Milk Wood’ as Thomas wrote it. But for what it’s worth I think it’s brilliant – time hasn’t dimmed it, his language remains bracingly wild, elemental and weird. And this is a very good, detailed performance of it – Sheen is impassioned and urgent, like he’s electrified by the surging flanguage; the cast of mostly older actors tend to get more playful roles, and seem to be having terrific fun. [...] You bought your tickets to see Michael Sheen doing ‘Under Milk Wood’ and you’ve got Michael Sheen doing ‘Under Milk Wood’ – nobody’s going to feel disappointed. Time Out

[...] Sheen – shaggy, bearded and full of humanity – leads as the narrator but this is really an ensemble show, animated with amusing turns by Siân Phillips, Cleo Sylvestre and Ifan Huw Dafydd among others. It comes with an inventive framing device (additional material is written by Siân Owen) in which Sheen plays the son of Richard Jenkins (Karl Johnson), who is losing his bearings when he is visited by Jenkins Junior in his nursing home. [...] While this is a charming production that bewitches, it begs the question of why a drama that is so consciously retreating into the past is revived now, and how it speaks to our pandemic landscape. Thomas draws a picture of a place steeped in stasis and saturated in nostalgia. Time has stood still here, as Thomas makes clear in the symbolism of the village clock’s frozen hands, and it arguably represents his yearning for a bygone world after the second world war. This production seems entirely conscious of its retreat into the past and it resembles a lost world that is both comforting and jarring after the horrors of the pandemic. The Guardian

To hear Michael Sheen deliver Under Milk Wood feels akin to witnessing Gielgud's Hamlet or Rylance's Rooster Byron. It is nothing short of theatrically seminal.As hoped, the poetry is magnificent. He orchestrates Dylan Thomas's posthumously performed masterpiece as a maestro conductor, all waving hands and syncopated rhythm. There are times when his words seem to literally hang in the air, leaving the socially distanced Olivier audience hypnotised. I could listen to him say "Now behind the eyes and secrets of the dreamers in the streets rocked to sleep by the sea…" on loop forever. [...] The concept doesn't always feel completely cohesive - it seems strange that everyone so willingly joins the performance when Sheen's character is so cold and skittish with them initially - but Lyndsey Turner's beautifully choreographed in-the-round production is convincing enough to override such niggles.The metanarrative also has the noticeable effect of causing Sheen to speak as if he is conjuring Dylan's words on the spot. This lends both an immediacy to the language and also a purpose to its rich imagery - after all, here is a man desperately trying to paint pictures in his father's addled imagination. Under Milk Wood is in some sense a victim of its own familiarity, and Turner's staging lends a much-needed freshness over reverence. [...] Whatsonstage

A charismatic Michael Sheen is part showman, part shaman in this staging of Dylan Thomas’s 1954 radio play, conjuring a Welsh town into lyrical, beguiling life with mostly older actors on a bare stage. Lyndsey Turner’s production marks a triumphant reopening for the National’s Olivier Theatre, where the audience now sits on all sides, a configuration that lends itself to simple production values and a deeper communion between actors and onlookers.It begins oddly, though, in the middle-distant past with Sheen as an angry, wild-bearded writer visiting his demented father (Karl Johnson, heartbreaking) in a care home. Thomas’s poetry is the only way to reach the old man, and his fellow residents are duly summoned to incarnate the townsfolk of the author’s fictional Llareggub (“bugger all” backwards). It’s an awkward framing device with a serious point: to stress the importance of community and memory, and salute the talents and rich lives of elder generations. But what a lovely, bittersweet spell this show casts. Sheen, like Richard Burton and Anthony Hopkins, grew up in Port Talbot, an hour from Laugharne where Thomas lived and partially wrote the play. He has the contours of the language and the landscape in his head, and an orator’s relish for Thomas’s evocative phrasing. We first see Llareggub asleep, “starless and bible black” and meet its inhabitants in their dreams. [...] Eveningstandard

#Michael Sheen #Under Milk Wood #Theatre #National Theatre #Reviews

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obtusemedia · 3 years

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Ranking Lady Gaga's albums, from worst to best

Being a Lady Gaga fan can be an exercise in frustration.

Gaga is far more ambitious than most popstars — I doubt we’ll ever see Ariana Grande or Ed Sheeran make an album as left-field as Born This Way or ARTPOP. But she's also far less consistent, with numerous misbegotten projects.

Gaga's undeniably successful, with five #1 hits, an Oscar and multiple iconic music videos to her name. But her messy album rollouts and tradition of underperforming lead singles make her feel like an underdog compared to the more polished, precise careers of her contemporaries like Taylor Swift, Beyoncé or Bruno Mars.

Gaga is kind of a mess. But she's our mess. This album ranking will cover some records I can't stand — albums that make me constantly hit the fast-forward button, or albums I ignore altogether. But there isn't a single record on here that wasn't a bold move. Even the "back to basics" albums made strong aesthetic choices.

So let's dive into the career of the most fascinating Millennial popstar.

#8: Cheek To Cheek (2014)

This really shouldn't count. It's a Lady Gaga album in name only. But, technically it's a Gaga album, so here we are.

I've got nothing against Gaga having fun playing Rat Pack-era dress-up with Tony Bennett. She's a theatre kid at heart, and I'm sure every theatre kid would kill to make a Great American Songbook covers record like this. It sounds like she and Tony enjoyed themselves, so I'm happy for them!

...but I'm sorry. I can't be objective about Cheek To Cheek, it's the opposite of my taste. There's only so many bland lounge ballads I can take.

BEST SONGS: I have to pick one? "Anything Goes" is cute, I guess.

WORST SONG: "Sophisticated Lady"

#7: A Star Is Born (2018)

Let me first make this clear — A Star Is Born, the movie starring Bradley Cooper and Lady Gaga? It's a masterpiece. It's electrifying and tragic and I'm still upset it didn't sweep the Oscars that year. There's even a cute dog! You won't hear me say a bad word about it.

But A Star Is Born, the accompanying soundtrack? It's extremely hit-and-miss.

Yes, it includes arguably Gaga's best-ever song and one of the greatest movie hits ever written, "Shallow." And there's plenty of other great tunes in the tracklist too — "Always Remember Us This Way," "I'll Never Love Again," the "La Vie En Rose" cover.

Even the country-rock songs from Bradley Cooper (who, reminder, is not a professional singer) are mostly good! "Black Eyes" RIPS, and "Maybe It's Time" feels like a long-lost classic.

But sadly, there are so many mediocre filler tracks on this thing. The second half of A Star Is Born's hour-plus runtime (Gaga's longest!) is padded with generic songs like "Look What I've Found," "Heal Me" and "I Don't Know What Love Is." The only good one out of the bunch is the silly, intentionally-bad "Why Did You Do That?"

In the movie, these filler tracks serve a point – they're meant to show Gaga's character selling out. They work in the movie when you hear them for a few seconds and see Cooper make a drunkly disappointed scowl. But I don't want to listen to them, and sadly, they make up half the album.

In other words — A Star Is Born would've made an incredible six or seven-song EP. But as an 63-minute-long record? It's a slog.

BEST SONGS: "Shallow", "Always Remember Us This Way," "Maybe It's Time"

WORST SONG: "Heal Me"

#6: Joanne (2016)

After Born This Way and ARTPOP, I get why Gaga needed to make a more lowkey, back-to-basics album. I also understand that many of these songs have extremely personal lyrics for her.

But is a down-to-earth album what I really want from our most outré popstar? Not really.

Luckily, Joanne is better than that description suggests. Yes, there are some bland acoustic ballads and awkward hippie-era throwbacks (two styles that are really not in Gaga's wheelhouse), but there's also some Springsteen-style heartland rockers! And those go hard in the paint.

Joanne works best when Gaga works the record's dusty aesthetics into her brand of weirdo pop, like on the sizzling "John Wayne," the winking "A-YO" or the delightfully extra Florence Welch duet "Hey Girl."

The record also has "Perfect Illusion" — a glorious red herring of a lead single that sounds nothing like anything else on Joanne. It's a roided-up mixture of woozy Tame Impala production and hair metal histrionics, and it rules. It might be Gaga's best-ever lead single! (at the very least, it's her most underrated.)

And there is one slow tune that's unambiguously great: "Million Reasons," another solid Gaga lighters-in-the-air power ballad pastiche.

Despite what some Little Monsters may tell you, Joanne isn't a disaster. There's some great stuff in there, and even the worst songs are just forgettable. But it's still far from her best.

BEST SONGS: "Perfect Illusion," "Diamond Heart," "Million Reasons"

WORST SONG: "Come To Mama"

#5: Chromatica (2020)

When Chromatica was released near the start of the COVID-19 pandemic, it had been seven years since Gaga had released music in her classic gonzo-synthpop vein. I can easily picture the record serving as an "ugh fine, I'll give you what you want" response to the many Little Monsters annoyed with Gaga's half-decade of folksy ballads and Julie Andrews cosplay.

I'll say this about Chromatica — outside of The Fame Monster, it's her most consistent record. There's not a single track that's a glaring mistake. And the three singles — "Stupid Love," "911" and the triumphant Ariana Grande duet "Rain On Me" — easily stand among her best tracks.

But although "all bangers, no ballads" album sounds rad in theory, it doesn't really succeed in practice. Chromatica is solid, but it's also a very same-y record. It feels like Gaga had one really great idea for the album ('90s club music with super-depressing lyrics) and repeated it over and over and over again to diminishing results.

There are some songs that are able to separate themselves: the three singles, of course, as well as the goofy "Babylon" and "Sine From Above," the Elton John duet that's the closest Chromatica gets to a ballad. But by the end of the album, you feel more worn out than electrified.

Also — and this is probably unfair, but still — Chromatica came out just a couple months after another retro-dance blockbuster pop album: Dua Lipa's magnum opus, Future Nostalgia. That's not a flattering comparison.

BEST SONGS: "Rain On Me," "Stupid Love," "911"

WORST SONG: "1000 Doves"

#4: The Fame (2008)

Out of all of Gaga's records, The Fame is most like a time capsule. It REEKS of late '00s/early '10s pop — which isn't an entirely fair criticism, seeing as Gaga popularized that era's sleazy, synthy aesthetic. It's also not a bad thing! I don't mind a little nostalgia!

As you already know, The Fame's singles are masterworks. "Just Dance," "Poker Face," "Paparazzi" — these tracks have titanic legacies for good reason. And although it's probably the least-beloved of this album's hits, despite being a total banger, "LoveGame" should still be commended for having arguably the most Gaga lyric ever (you know, the "disco stick" line).

And even though those tracks are front-loaded on The Fame, there are some gems deeper in the tracklist. "Summerboy" is basically Gwen Stefani covering The Strokes (so obviously, it's great). "Eh, Eh" is adorable. "Starstruck" is the most 2008 song ever recorded, with aggressive Auto-Tune and Flo Rida showing up to make Starbucks jokes.

Sadly, The Fame still feels like Gaga before she became fully-formed at certain points. The back half has a number of songs that feel like generic club tracks forced by the label, and "Paper Gangsta" is one of the clunkiest songs in Gaga's catalogue.

But at the very least, the bad songs on The Fame at least serve as little nostalgia bombs for that era of pop. And the best songs are untouchable classics.

BEST SONGS: "Paparazzi," "Just Dance," "Summerboy"

WORST SONG: "Paper Gangsta"

#3: ARTPOP (2013)

For much of Gaga's career, she's been ahead of the curve. She tries something, and a year or a few years later, other popstars try something similar to diminishing results.

That doesn't just apply to the successful stuff, like Gaga's extravagant music videos inspiring many copycats from 2010-2013. It also applies to the mid-late '10s trend of legacy popstars making a controversial record with risky aesthetic or lyrical choices that backfired: reputation. Witness. Man of The Woods.

Gaga did this first, with ARTPOP — arguably the most abrasive, and bizzare major label album released by a major modern popstar. And she did it better, because unlike Swift, Perry and Timberlake, Gaga's weirdness was for real. And it was in service of some prime, hyper-aggressive bangers.

ARTPOP isn't Gaga's best work — some of her experiments on it are major misfires, from the obnoxious "Mary Jane Holland" to the bland Born This Way leftover (and Romani slur-utilizing) "Gypsy."

But when ARTPOP is on, it's ON. The opening stretch in particular, from "Aura" to "Venus" to "G.U.Y." to "Sexxx Dreams," is chaotic synthpop at its finest. Those songs took Gaga's classic sound to an apocalyptic, demented extreme, and they're fantastic.

"MANiCURE" is a great glam-rock banger, "Dope" is another classic Gaga piano ballad, the title track is some sikly-smooth dreampop; even the misguided, clunky trap anthem "Jewels N' Drugs" is bad in a hilarious, charming way!

Trust me: ARTPOP will go down in history not as a flop, but as a gutsy, underrated record from a legend. Less Witness, more In Utero.

BEST SONGS: "G.U.Y.," "Venus," "Sexxx Dreams"

WORST SONG: "Gypsy"

#2: The Fame Monster (2009)

Objectively speaking, this is probably the best Gaga album.

It's her one record with no fluff, no filler — only 34 minutes and 8 tracks, all of them stellar.

It's the record that took Gaga from "wow, this new woman is a fresh new face in pop!" to "this woman IS pop."

It's the record with her signature track, "Bad Romance," which was accompanied by arguably the greatest music video of the 21st Century. (It also has my absolute favorite Gaga track, the relentlessly catchy "Telephone.")

I don't think I need to explain what makes mega-smashes "Bad Romance" and "Telephone" and "Alejandro" great, nor the accompanying legendary deep cuts "Speechless" and "Dance In The Dark." They speak for themselves.

However — the sleek, calculated perfection of The Fame Monster, while incredible, isn't something I return to often. It's just not the side of Gaga that's my favorite. That honor would have to go to...

BEST SONGS: "Telephone," "Dance In The Dark," "Bad Romance"

WORST SONG: "So Happy I Could Die" (but it's still pretty solid)

#1: Born This Way (2011)

One of my favorite podcasts is Blank Check. The concept of the show is to analyze each movie by a famous director — in particular, those who had big success early on and then got a blank check to make whatever crazy passion project they wanted. Here's a great example: because Batman was a massive hit, Tim Burton got to make whatever Hot Topic-core movies he wanted to for decades, from Edward Scissorhands to a creepy Willy Wonka remake.

That long-winded tangent is just to say: Born This Way was Lady Gaga's blank check. By early 2011, she had conquered the pop universe, notching hit after hit after hit. Every other pop star was copying her quirky music videos. So the label let Gaga do whatever she wanted — and she didn't waste that opportunity.

Born This Way is wildly overproduced. It's both extremely trend-chasing (those synths were cutting edge at the time but charmingly dated now), but also deeply uncaring about what the teens want (I don't think Springsteen and Queen homages were big at the time). And I love every messy, overblown second of it.

From the hair-metal/synthpop hybrid opener "Marry The Night" to the majestic '80s power ballad "The Edge of Glory," Born This Way starts at an 11. And Gaga never takes her foot off the pedal for the album's entire hour-plus run time. Clanging electric guitars, thunderous synths and Clarence Clemons (!!!) sax solos collide into each other as Gaga champions every misfit and loser in the world. It's gloriously corny in the best way possible.

Born This Way is also the perfect middle ground of pop-savvy Gaga and gonzo Gaga. It doesn't go quite as hard as ARTPOP, but the hooks are stronger. And the oddball moments are tons of fun, from the sci-fi biker anthem "Highway Unicorn" to the goofy presidential-sex banger "Government Hooker" ("Put your hands on me/John F. Kennedy" might be the greatest line in pop history).

Born This Way will always be my favorite Gaga album. It's armed with nuclear-grade hooks, slamming beats, and soaring anthems. Although it's not as untouchably pristine as the Mt. Rushmore of '10s pop classics (for the record, that's 1989, EMOTION, Lemonade and, of course, Melodrama), Gaga isn't best served by meticulousness. She's proudly tacky and histrionic, and so that's what makes Born This Way an utter joy.

BEST SONGS: "The Edge of Glory," "You and I," "Marry The Night"

WORST SONG: "Bloody Mary"

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