#Jesus totally danced on water guys

[jessidogg]

Wave Walker Dancer

The Disciples: There's no WAY Jesus is going to make it through this storm!

Jesus Walking On Water: 😁

~2,000 Years Later~

My Friends: There's no way Jessi can get through this, it's impossible-

Me "Walking On Water":

Or should I say dancing on water-

Have had this bad boy in my head all day:

Now you will too, ur welcome 😌

[cryptidghostgirl]

omg omg omg totally new silly idea- human! alastor x human! reader where they meet at a party and go outside for a walk near the pier and the moon is beautiful and… they pull out weapons on each other (specifically Alastor a knife and reader a gun) and thats when they decide to form a partner in crime partnership

And in other to keep appearances they are forced to “fake date”

Mimzy: youve been spending some time with that new girl havent you, is she your gf or smth?” chuckle

Naize 20 yr old smth Alastor trying to think of a response thats not that:...

Mimzy: OMG IS SHE?

Alastor: sureeeeee

And they aren't actually into each other until a lot later into their partnership when they’re chasing some guy and reader gets to them first and just starts going at it “hey man i think hes had enough” “YOU WANT WHAT HES HAVING???” thpe shit

and Alastor has to catch his breath and he lowkey thinks hes dying because his heart starts beating a lot, And he goes again to mimzy for advice cuz i dont think he has anu friends and shes like “oh sweetie…”

And because its quite impossible to not get attached at one point theyre in another chase and reader starts laughing hysterically like “did you see him trying to run away??? lmao” and he goes “I couldnt take my eyes off you” and then just grabs her face and SMOOCH >:)

I think its a good trope- fake dating to actual dating even if its. about. murderers- :3

A/N YOU GUYS COME UP WITH THE BEST REQUESTS JESUS CHRIST!!! Also I promise I will get to the rest of the requests this weekend, I had two exams today so this is the only thing I am gonna post. Sorry.

Cover Up (Human!Alastor x Human!Reader)

Pairing: Alastor x Reader

Warnings: uh, murder. Mild gore. Violence. Weapons.

Word Count: 4,460 (I went a little overboard with this one)

Master Lists:

Master Lists 

Hazbin Hotel Master List

"I'll walk her home, don't worry Mimzy." Alastor was saying as Y/n pulled her coat over her shoulders.

The noises of the party still raging on filtered into the grand entryway of the house, muffled through the walls. Mimzy shot her two friends a suspicious look.

"It's nothing like that, Mimz." Y/n sighed, straightening the collar of her fur coat, "I just asked cause of all those murders in the news. Kinda freaky, don't you think? I don't really wanna be out alone at night and Al here was kind enough to offer."

Mimzy crossed her arms, eyebrows raised.

"Sure." she teased.

"Mimzy." Alastor sighed in response and she put her hands up in false surrender.

"Sorry! Sorry." she hummed playfully, "I know you two free birds would never."

Alastor rolled his eyes and, turning to Y/n, held out his arm. She took it daintily, a grateful smile on her face. The pair had just met a few hours earlier but had quickly fallen into a casual camaraderie. He lead her from the house, Mimzy calling her goodnights and wishes for their safety after their retreating forms.

It was a mostly quiet walk through the desolate midnight streets of New Orleans. Y/n hummed softly, kicking a can along with the toes of her healed shoes.

"You'll ruin them that way, wont you?" Alastor asked, feigning concern.

Y/n just shrugged.

"They're shoes. Yeah, they're nice but I wont let that stop me from living. Let's stop by the water, it's so pretty tonight."

Alastor turned slightly, looking out at the Mississippi with it's slightly turbid waters reflecting the light of the stars. He tried not to smile, it was like she wanted him to carry out his intended work. She was making it so easy for him.

"Sure."

They turned towards the rail and Y/n let go of his arm, leaning her elbows against it. She let out a sigh of longing as her eyes tracked the ripples in the surface.

Alastor watched her for a moment, the moon illuminating her features. She was a handsome woman, there was no doubt about it. It had been proved to him tenfold by the amount of prospective partners she had turned down dances with at the party in favor of drinking with him at the bar. That was not what Alastor was interested in, however. Once he was sure she was distracted, once he was sure she had no intent to take her eyes from the glowing river, he looked down. Moving his coat slightly to the side, his hand quickly found its way to the hilt of the knife he had stashed in his waistband for just such an occasion.

He pulled it out, the weight familiar, almost comforting in a sense, in his hand. There was a click. He looked up, the blade pointed to its intended target.

Y/n was facing him now, a wry smile on her face. One foot in front of the other, she took a step forward. The muzzle of the gun, the cocking of which had been the source of the noise which had drawn his attention, just a few centimeters from his chest. The tip of his knife hovered indefinitely by the open center of her coat. He chuckled in amusement, eyebrows raised.

"I thought there were a few more bodies in the news than there should have been. A gun? Really?"

Y/n shrugged.

"I'm little. I don't have the privilege of being able to overpower my victims like you."

Alastor hummed softly. A slight breeze picked up, playing with the edges of their hair.

"What a shame."

Y/n laughed lightly.

"I don't think so. It works well enough."

"Those machines are inelegant, they are detached."

"And you prefer a sense of intimacy to be involved in all your escapades?"

Alastor removed the knife, holding it up to his eyes. He turned the blade over in his hand, examining it closely. Following suit, Y/n let her hand fall to her side, the gun still cocked should an occasion arise to use it.

"I have an idea." he suddenly announced.

"Oh?" Y/n asked.

She took a step back, returning to the water's edge. Alastor followed, leaning over the railing beside her. They watched one another closely, weapons still clutched loosely in their hands.

"Yep."

"You gonna tell me what it is or am I gonna have to guess?" Y/n teased after a moment, breaking the oddly comfortable silence that had fallen after Alastor's last words.

"There have been a few times, of late, where I've come a bit... uncomfortably close to being seen."

"Getting lazy." Y/n hummed, "Or maybe just cocky."

"It seems like you could use a hand, someone with brute strength in case anything goes wrong."

She scoffed, smiling just the slightest bit.

"Are you proposing we work together?"

"You're the one who said it, not me."

Y/n shook her head slightly, amused.

"How would I know you wouldn't just turn on me? End up killing me or decide not to step in if I needed help?"

"And how would I know that you wouldn't rat me out? Alert someone to where I was and what I was doing rather than telling me someone was coming? It's called trust, Y/n."

Y/n thought it over, fiddling with the gun in her grip as she did so. Alastor watched, seeing the gears turning in her mind through the light of her eyes.

"Fine." she said at last, un-cocking the gun and holding a hand out to him, "You've got yourself a deal."

Alastor smiled, slipping the knife back into his belt before grasping her hand in his. It was chilled by the air of the January night enveloping them.

"Deal."

Y/n quickly learned Alastor's preferred demographic. He had a penchant for angry men, drunks. Y/n had been a one off, a spur of the moment opportunity he had thought to take hold of. Alastor had not been like that for her. Y/n's preferred victims were also men. Anyone that showed any pressing interest in her, anyone who tried to take her home for the night, always ended up six feet under. For both, murder was a way of processing their personal experiences and traumas.

As a result of their deal, Y/n and Alastor began to spend more time together. They had to learn one another's intricacies, their ways of thinking, their nature of being. It was a necessity if anything was actually going to work. They both had rather busy work schedules, Alastor as a radio broadcaster with his very own show and Y/n as a seamstress at a local dress shop. Because of this, more often than not, the only time they had to get to know one another was through shared meals. Both of them had to eat, needed a lunch break or dinner. It was just what worked. Because of their slightly shared demographic of victim, they ended up in bars together quite frequently as well.

It was in one of these meet ups that they ran into their first difficulty. Y/n was sitting across a table from him outside a cafe, lazily sipping on a coffee as she perused the missing persons list in a newspaper. The newspaper was old, they were exchanging information about who was responsible for what. Working together didn't just mean knowing one another as they were now, but their histories as well.

They should have known not to sit in such a public place. Both had many connections in the city due to their jobs, though few friends. It just so happened on that day that the one true friend they did have in common was walking down the very street they sat on.

"Alastor?" Mimzy exclaimed, catching sight of his familiar face and moving towards their table.

Y/n folded the newspaper, placing it on the table as she turned towards the sound. Mimzy came to a stop, her brow furrowing in mild confusion as she saw her friend was not in fact alone.

"And Y/n, fancy meeting you two here."

"Pull up a chair, Mimz." Y/n smiled and Mimzy obeyed.

Swinging a spare chair from a nearby table, she quickly joined them.

"I haven't seen you two since the party! How have you been."

"Fine, fine." Alastor hummed and Y/n nodded her assent.

"And whats this with you two getting coffee?" Mimzy asked, a teasing smile slipping onto her face as Alastor took a sip of his own drink, "I'm not interrupting anything, am I?"

"No, not at all Mimz." Y/n shook her head, a slight smile on her face, "It's always a pleasure to see you."

"You sure this isn't a date or something? I mean, with the way you two left and everything... having coffee alone..."

Alastor nearly choked on his drink. Y/n and Mimzy turned to him as he put a hand to his chest, clearing his throat.

"Excuse me." he said and Mimzy's grin widened.

"Oh this is totally a date."

"No!" Alastor exclaimed, exchanging a fervent glance with Y/n across the table.

She raised her eyebrows, pursing her lips. Without words, she told him to handle it. Alastor sighed.

"Are you sure?" Mimzy asked, a suggestive tone to her voice.

"I... uh..." Alastor stuttered, his brain working in overdrive to think of anything else. It came up empty, "Fine. Yes. We're... we're on a date."

"You caught us." Y/n chimed in and Mimzy turned to her.

"Oh my stars! You two.... I shoulda guessed you'd get on like a house on fire. Shame I can't invite you to any more of my singles parties though Y/n, you are a riot."

Singles parties. A hunting ground. Y/n smiled.

"No, no, Mimz. We're not exclusive or anything."

Mimzy's eyes widened slightly at the revelation as Alastor shot Y/n a look across the table. Dating was going to be hard for them to sell but swingers too? What was she thinking.

"Really? How exotic." Mimzy hummed in thought.

"We're all going to hell anyways so, why not." Y/n shrugged.

"Oh you." Mimzy laughed, placing a hand on Y/n's shoulder as she got to her feet, "Well, I won't keep you love birds any longer. I'll see you next week for the next party then?"

"We'll see." Alastor hummed placidly.

Once Mimzy had gone, he rounded on Y/n.

"Swingers?" he asked, eyebrows raised, "Really?"

"Hey, you're the one who started the whole 'we're dating' thing." Y/n sighed, picking the newspaper back up and resuming the task at hand, "I just made it easier for us."

"It will utterly destroy my reputation if this gets out you know."

Y/n shot him a look over the top of the paper.

"Al, you got a lot more to worry about than pretending to be a swinger in terms of your reputation. Now, Marcus Alcost? Six four, buff, scar on his left forearm? Brown hair?"

"Blue eyes?"

"Umm... yeah."

"Yep, that was me."

"Nice. Musta been a tough one to take down."

Alastor would track men, following them out as they left the establishments in the small hours of the morning with the intent of returning to their families. He would stalk them, corner them, lead them in. Y/n would stand watch, alerting him at the first sign of trouble.

The moment she heard footsteps, chatter, Y/n would duck in. Grabbing Alastor by the arm, she would whisk him off in some random direction, having consistently used the time she was on lookout to scout for escape routes.

They had had a few close calls, one or two times he had had to press her up against a wall and pretend to kiss her to avoid prying eyes. They always had a good laugh after something like that. Mostly, things worked out well. They each had survived on their own for years at this point. They knew what they were doing, adding another person into the mix just made it a tad easier.

Y/n, on the other hand, didn't need to track her victims down, they did that work for her. She would dress up all pretty and the moment someone asked to take her home or something of the like, would agree. Then she'd pull them into some ally or another under the guise of not wanting to wait a second longer and attack. Alastor would stand behind her, arms crossed menacingly as she carried out her work. He threatened so she could perform and she never had any trouble thanks to him.

That was, until one night about a year into their little partnership. As the time had passed, their relationship had grown. They still held the ruse of dating up before anyone who asked why it was they each spent so much time with the other but, a real friendship had begun to blossom between them as well. As it turns out, they had a lot more in common than just a tendency to commit brutal murders. Y/n knew Alastor well by now, better than anyone else most likely, and he knew her as well. That was how he could tell something was wrong.

Y/n had given Alastor the usual signal from across the bar and he had settled his tab. As he followed the pair, Y/n and the tall man whose hand she held, Alastor had noticed something was off. Normally by this point Y/n was stumbling around, pretending to be drunk and ditzy. She was doing this very thing now but in a more halted and jagged way. The man she was with seemed more believably drunk than she was, swaying this way and that. Her movements were uncharacteristically harsh as she pulled the man into the ally about a block ahead of him.

Alastor picked up the pace, breaking into a light jog. He reached the ally and turned down it, expecting to see Y/n flirting with the man or with her gun out already. Instead, he was met with something entirely different.

At the back of the ally lay the huddled mass of the man. On top of him was Y/n. The thuds of her knuckles against his face was the only sound breaking the silence of the night. She hit him, again and again. Alastor stood there, stunned.

"Dear, whatever is the matter?" he asked at last, trying to wrap his head around the situation.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"Y/n."

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see the splatters of blood now, on the ground around them and the wall behind. The thuds included the occasional squelch, the crack of a bone.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

"You'll ruin your hands for work tomorrow if you keep at this."

Still, she ignored him. There was a sickening crunch. Sighing, he approached.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

He could see it now, the man's mutilated face. Part of his skull looked like it had caved in. He had stopped moving long ago.

"Y/n, dear," Alastor tentatively reached out a hand towards her shoulder as he spoke, "don't you think he has had enough?"

Y/n whipped around to him, her eyes wild and her bloody raw knuckles raised. He froze, his hand hovering above her shoulder. There was blood everywhere. It soaked the sleeves of her collard shirt, it dripped from her fingers, it decorated her face and her bared teeth.

"What, you fucking want some too?"

Alastor's breath caught in his throat. His heart pounded against his ribcage, begging for escape. It wasn't fear, it couldn't be. He could take this girl down in ten seconds flat, blood hungry as she was.

Y/n's eyes, sharp with violence, softened slightly as she saw his reaction. She let her hands fall, resting them on the man's chest.

"He tried to drug me." she revealed, turning her eyes back to her mess, her masterpiece.

"He what?"

"Yeah." she sighed, using the back of her hand to push her hair from her eyes, leaving a residue of blood in the wake of the movement, "I caught him, switched the drinks."

Alastor shifted his gaze to the man before falling on Y/n once again. Her face was blank now, all the rage gone.

"He tried to drug me." she said again, her voice hollow.

At last, his hand found its home on her shoulder and she turned to face him once again. Alastor extended his free hand to Y/n. She examined it for a moment before daintily placing one of her own in his and allowing him to help her to her feet. Both her hands now rested in his as they looked back at the remains of the man.

"Well, he's definitely dead."

Alastor let go of Y/n's hands. Now free, he used one of them to turn her face to his. Blood spattered, wide eyed, lips slightly parted -- his heart fought for freedom from his chest once again.

"He deserved it."

Alastor let go of Y/n's chin and used the cuff of his jacket to wipe some of the blood from her face.

"Can you walk me home?"

Normally if she had asked something like that, Alastor would have teased her to no end. Why be scared of the monsters in the dark when she herself was one of them? But her voice had been small, timid. She had avoided his eyes and his fingers tingled at the prospect of her viewing him as protector.

"Of course, my dear."

They did not have another planned meeting until two weeks from that day. Y/n had a big project at work and wouldn't have any spare time because of it. Alastor, normally restless at the idea of having to wait so long to satisfy his bloodlust either by killing or seeing the show of death, was grateful for the respite. He was confused, overwhelmed even, because his strange reactions, the change in his patterns of thought towards the girl, hadn't ended at Y/n's front door.

No, she was haunting him. Like a vengeful ghost, he saw her in his mind. She took up every waking moment, he didn't know what to do. Alastor waited a day and still, it persisted. The skip of his heart, the odd slightly sick feeling in his stomach at the thought of their reunion. He waited three days and it didn't stop. By the time the end of the week rolled around and Alastor still found himself smiling at the prospect of only having to wait another week not to kill but to see Y/n again, he did the unthinkable. It was the only option he could come up with. Besides Y/n, she was the only other person in the world he even half trusted. Alastor called Mimzy.

"Alastor, darling!" she excitedly exclaimed into the phone, "What a surprise! What can I do for you?"

"Yeah, hey Mimzy. Um..." he struggled to find the words, fiddling with the phone cord as he walked to the window, looking down at the street below, "I just... I need your advice about something."

"What is it, hun?" she immediately replied, "Seems its got you in a tizzy, not a lot can do that."

"I... It's about Y/n."

"Uh-oh, trouble in paradise?"

"No. Maybe?" he turned from the window, collapsing in his desk chair, "I don't know."

"Spill."

"Well, we... I just.... Mimz, I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well I would hope not, you've been together for almost a year now."

"Yeah well, about that. It may have been a... stretching of the truth? Shall we say?"

"Al." Mimzy warned after a moment's silence, "If you are playing with this gi-"

"No!" he exclaimed, cutting her off and quickly crafting an excuse, "No. It was just to get our parents off our backs. We had a deal. They were both pestering us about when we were gonna get married, you know how it is."

"I thought your dad was dead?"

"My ma though, she really wants to see me settled down."

"I guess that explains the swingers thing." Mimzy sighed, "It didn't really seem in character for either of you. So, whats the matter?"

"I told you, I can't stop thinking about her. It's like... it's like... look, we're not dating, but we're friends, you know? And we were out at a bar together a few nights ago and she just... she did something and when I looked at her, it was like I died."

"That little minx." Mimzy laughed in glee, "What the heck did she do?"

"Just something, okay?"

"I have got to quiz her about this."

"No! Please, no. She'd... probably be embarrassed."

"Mmm... okay...." came Mimzy's doubtful reply, "So what was it you needed help with?"

"Well, that. It was like the breath had left my body entirely. I felt... sick, my chest hurt. It was so strange. I thought it would go away once I got some sleep but it didn't. Every time I think about her, it feels like there is a vice around my heart and I can't stop thinking about her."

"Al, seriously? This is what you're asking me about?"

"Yeah?" he uncertainly replied after a moment.

"What are you, twelve?"

"Mimzy, are you going to help or not?"

She sighed.

"Alastor, you have a crush on her."

A beat.

"I do not."

"Yes, you do. Maybe even more."

"I..." his brow furrowed, his breath left his body.

This was bad. This could be dangerous, detrimental even.

"Are you sure?"

"Butterflies in your stomach? Pains in your chest? Can't get her out of your mind? You're even breathless for christ's sake Al. It's textbook first pangs of love."

"Fuck."

Mimzy laughed.

"You're already pretend dating, what harm would asking her to do the real thing with you do? My bet is, she's probably been feeling the same thing about you. That tends to happen in cases like yours, I've seen it before. The whole 'fake love turns real' trope. It's overdone if you ask me."

"Mimzy, this isn't one of your trashy romance novels. This is my life."

"So live it radio man! Go get that girl."

Alastor was nervous, trembling even as he sat at the bar. His glass of whiskey had gone warm on the table as he watched Y/n dancing and having fun in the crowd. This was how it usually went when it was his turn to hunt, she'd have fun and he'd find a target. Once the target left, he'd grab her and they'd move out.

Tonight he was distracted and it showed. The man had nearly given them the slip. With Alastor's knife still sticking out of his shoulder, he had ducked away and started running. Of course that meant Alastor and Y/n had to give chase. They ran after him through the streets of New Orleans as he screamed bloody murder and Y/n's heels clicked definitively on the ground. He was thankful that the hour was late and no one was out and about, thankful the man was so drunk his words came out closer to garbled singing than pleas for help, thankful he was slowed by his consumption.

When they at last caught up with him, Alastor grabbed his second knife from his belt and, taking the man's hurt shoulder in his free hand, buried it deep in the man's back. He fell to the floor, sputtering, coughing up blood. In a few moments he was still. Alastor turned to Y/n, panting.

Her pretty eyes traced a path between murderer and victim a handful of times before a smile broke out onto her face. Before he could really register what was happening, she was doubled over in laughter, clutching her stomach.

Alastor watched Y/n, eyebrows raised as they both caught their breath. After about a minute, she straightened up and turned to him, wiping a tear from her eye.

"What?" Alastor asked with a wry smile, "What is so funny about a dead man."

"He..." she broke out into laughter again, "He... the way he ran! And we almost lost him?! Oh my god, Al, that coulda been so bad."

"The way... he ran?"

"He... didn't you see it? Oh my god, it was so funny. Like he was running in a three legged race with an invisible partner." she wheezed.

Alastor felt the heat pooling in his cheeks. Mimzy was right, it was time for him to live his life. A normal existence could coexist with his hobby, Y/n had already proved that to him.

"Didn't you see?" she asked again.

"No." he shook his head, "I was... I was watching you."

"You were... Al, theres no way you were." Y/n scoffed, "No way. If you were watching me, he would have gotten away. If you were watching me, it would meant that you were unconcerned by your oh-so-precious reputation being ruined. If you were watching me, it would mean..."

She trailed off as he took a step closer to her, his gaze flicking between her eyes and her lips. Y/n's cheeks flushed pink.

"Alastor."

Her voice was a dying prayer. Reaching a trembling hand up, he laid it on the back of her head, his fingers tangling with her hair as she looked up at him with wide eyes. Alastor closed the gap.

He had been so scared. Scared she would push him away, that she wouldn't kiss back. Even a little bit scared he'd just become the next name on her list of degenerate men she'd killed.

There was a moment, a split second, where his fears were realized. Then, she washed them all away. Hands buried in the lapel of his jacket, she pulled him closer, Y/n leaned in.

They broke apart after a moment, their cheeks flushed and utterly breathless.

"I-"

"Would you like to go on a date with me, Y/n?"

Her eyes narrowed in suspicion.

"Are you going to try to kill me again?"

"Oh please, I thought we'd moved past that darling."

Y/n smiled, still holding him close. Alastor let his hands fall onto her waist as they swayed slightly under the light of the moon.

"Yes Alastor. I will let you take me on a date."

"We will not be swingers."

Y/n laughed.

"Just had to make that clear."

"No, Alastor. If I am going to get you, I want you all to myself. Now, what are we going to do about that body?"

----

Next Part -> Cover Up pt. 2

[madelynraemunson]

i need to know if we ever get jealous of eddie’s said short lived relationships. do we ever try to sabotage them? or are we the type to try and get along with them and thats when they’re like “oh no you two need to be together?”

(i know the answer in my heart but i want to hear what you think lol)

ex husband!eddie x reader

whaaat? sabotage eddie's relationships? 😵 that's diabolical. why on earth would we do that?

that one time we showed up to his house wearing a sundress after months of wearing sweats was TOTALLY unplanned! we had a date, after all.

and that one time we were dancing with eddie at the family bbq, rocking out to all our favorite songs like careless teenagers right in front of girlfriend #3 was all a ploy by our kiddos! right, kids? right? we do everything for the kids. they love seeing their parents happy and getting along. right, kids?

and are you really still on about the day of eli's talent show?? 🤦🏻‍♀️ we only asked girlfriend #9 to take a family photo of us because she was the only one that was around. that's all 😇 and she shouldn't be mad at us! eli LOVES taking pics with mommy and daddy. who is she to get in the way of a family, especially when kids are involved 🤨😤 (also, we didn't MAKE eddie place his hand where he did in the pictures. he literally did it by himself, on his own terms.)💋

...okay, bunnie you got me! we know damn well what we're doing 😅 but quite frankly, so does eddie.

you've got a date with david tonight. in fact, eddie knows was nice enough to house sit for you and help the kids with homework. an innocent, sweet little gesture. right?

you and david are watching a movie on his couch and things are getting steamy really fast. david is about to kiss you when...

RING! RING!

you pull away immediately. checking your phone to see who it is, you realize,

"it's my ex husband, that fucker. the house better be burning down." you go to answer it. "yes?"

“hey, sweetheart, this is eddie...the banished." he greets you. “i can't seem to find the measuring tape and was wondering if you knew where it was."

you're unsure as to why he would even need measuring tape. regardless, you reply,

"it's in with drawer of miscellaneous stuff. the one by the kitchen sink.”

"ahh, that's right. found it. thanks, babe."

but that's not the only useless call of the night. as your date with david continues, the calls keep coming through in seemingly calculated intervals. at the worst possible times. with the most irrelevant fucking questions.

“i can't find the baking soda." “where do you keep the batteries? the c batteries not the double As." "hey, just a heads up, you might wanna call somebody for this pipe." "what's the wifi password again?"

"EMUNSON1986!" you hiss. "the year you graduated high school."

"aww, really?" eddie coos. "that's endearing. thanks baby."

eventually after an hour, the calls stop. you and david were able to finish the movie, and get back to that steamy interaction before you were spammed mercilessly. david is now fiddling with your straps as you two are kissing, his available hand grazing your lower back, breath hitching when —

RING! RING!

"jesus h CHRIST!" you howl. "it's midnight for god's sake. this better be important. HELLO?”

"sorry," eddie mumbles on the other line. "remind me, i'm looking at your snake plant and was wondering how often these guys need watering? they look a little parched."

"once a day and i already did it," you say through gritted teeth.

"it's a new day, should they be watered again?"

"don't worry about it, eds."

"i always worry, sweetheart.”

david happens to hear this. giving you a side eye now, your date watches as you stay on the line with eddie for a couple of minutes. finally, you get eddie to agree to stop calling, which fills you with relief when you hang up the phone. your eyes then travel back to david, whom you begin to bat your flirty lashes at.

"now." you say. "where were we?"

"you should probably go home," david huffs. "looks like the fort still needs holding down."

you're seeing absolute red now. you are seething. that motherfucker.

your drive home is an angry, and sexually frustrated one. you can't believe eddie would sabotage your date like this, your only fun night out this week. he's in for it now.

"date ended early sweetheart?" eddie pouts at you the moment you walk into your house.

"bedroom," you order. "now."

tagging peeps who seemed interested in this lil universe! as always thank you for reading 💋

@highinmiamiii @potatobeans99 @mediocredreams @joshlmbrt @eddiesxangel @enam3l @mmunson86 @davidblowies-blog @thatissonnina @oskea93 @aurora-austen @lesservillain @madeofmunson @xxbimbobunnyxx @eddiesghxst @munsonssweets @nailbatanddungeon @swiss-mrs @winchester-angel @belokhvostikova @curlyjoequinn @strangereads @marrowfrog00 @shadyunknowncreation @tuolcaniacoc @catherinnn @prestinalove @pleuviors @cinemabean @calumfmu @littlexdeaths @let-the-music-take-c0ntrol @meetmeatyourworst @b-irock @spencerssatchel

divider by: @cafekitsune

[kimingyuslover]

WONWOO FIC RECS

scandal by @fantasyescapes17 (regency!au, fluff, angst, kinda enemies to lovers!au) pt. 2, pt. 3, pt. 4

The Viscount's sister with an enormous dowry, beauty and unmistakable talent- you began the London season as the most desired woman in any room. But Jeon Wonwoo (a man who would rather hide in the library than dance at a ball) was beyond your comprehension. Curiosity might have killed the cat, but it embroiled you into a scandal with a man you could never love.

the peephole by @rubyreduji (smut)

➥ wonwoo can’t stop thinking about how he wants to ruin his roommate, the peephole in his wall isn’t helping tamper those desires either

neurosurgery department by @taeyegu (fluff, angst, some humor, friends to lovers!au)

“if there is a nice person, please introduce him to me. sometimes like water, sometimes like fire. someone who can love me sincerely. i hope he is someone who is mature and faithful…” (introduce me a good person, joy)

getting closer (angst, smut, crime!au, Joker!Jeon Wonwoo x Chief Inspector!fem!reader) by @multi-kpop-fanfic

Summary: Four months. It has taken inspector Y/N L/N four months to get her hands on Jeon Wonwoo, the maniac, Joker-like criminal, who has thrown the city into total fear. The same criminal who has an obsession with the inspector, because she's the only one who can grant him his greatest wish. They need each other to fulfill their goals and there's only one way - by getting closer to each other, one last time.  

bloodily safe by @starlightxsvt (psychological thriller? camgirl au, college au, smut)

synopsis ➳ you have a little secret. one you are desperately hiding. yet the boy you have a crush on has figured it out. now a game of cat and mouse has begun. how do you make it out alive?

game on by @starlightxsvt (pt. 2 of bloodily safe, smut)

synopsis ► ❝ there has not been a single uninteresting moment since you have started living with wonwoo. as halloween rolls around, things only get more riveting. ❞

twisted fate by @smileysuh (smut, some fluff, vampire!wonwoo, vampire hunter!reader, soulmate!au, enemies to lovers!au)

💙 preview. “He deserved it,” Wonwoo assures you, reaching out to grab you by the back of the neck, pulling you closer. He’s covered in blood, and he looks like a sexy, wild monster. But he’s your monster, and you can’t help but react, leaning in- “Jesus Christ,” you hear Jeonghan breathe, turning to give you and Wonwoo privacy while he presses his lips against yours hungrily. At first, you can try to ignore the wet liquid on your fingertips as you grab at his strong shoulders, but you can’t ignore the taste on his tongue. Your body goes rigid and Wonwoo pulls back with a sigh, resting his forehead against yours. It’s an oddly peaceful moment amongst the chaos.

anteric by @smileysuh (smut, friends to lovers!au, frat!au, fake dating!au, ft. mingyu)

💙 preview. when you bump into the guy that ghosted you, your model best friend and roommate, Mingyu, steps up to be your fake boyfriend for the night... and when the asshole is hired at your workplace, your other roommate, twitch gamer Wonwoo, is roped into the charade too - “polyamory exists dude, get over it.”

work husband by @rubyreduji (fluff, ft. mingyu, office!au)

summary: your two coworkers get a bit too involved in becoming your “work husband”

to my youth by @viastro (slice of life!au, smau, fluff, humor, angst)

ミ☆ synopsis: in a world where everyone finds out who loves them within a 10 meter radius through the app love alarm, confessing your feelings without the use of the app is no longer considered normal. however, you refuse to download it in hopes that you’ll be able to fall in love without being dependent on love alarm.

[sorchathered]

The Stakes are High, but this love is ours.

————————————————————————

Pairing- Jake “Hangman” Seresin x reader

Warnings - Language, Sexual themes

Summary - There’s a new analyst in town, no one can seem to get a read on her. What’s she hiding, and what do they have to do with Hangman?

———————————————————————

It’s been such a weird week. Everybody’s been stressed to the limit over the mission coming up, but then adding a new analyst to the fray just a few weeks before it begins throws a wrench into the dynamic. There’s nothing wrong with her, insanely beautiful in that southern belle kind of way, smart as a whip and quick with a comeback. She was definitely a good fit for this mission, where others in her field had been struggling to get the plans in order you’d found a solution almost instantly, making everyone breathe a little easier as they geared up for what was sure to be a rough one.

But Phoenix can’t help but notice something is off, Y/N won’t go out with the crew after work, and has somehow got North Island’s resident Ken doll so flustered he can’t seem to do anything but mope like a kicked puppy. He’s always been friendly, never interested in taking a girl home at night like Bradshaw or some of the other guys, so she always just chalked it up to him having someone back home. Normally she’d enjoy watching him verbally go toe to toe with someone and get his ass handed to him but honestly this was just sad. Lieutenant L/N was ruthless, no matter how much game Hangman had, she shot him down with a look and sent him on his way with his tail between his legs.

Today was no different, Mav decided another game of dog fight football would be good for morale and the two of you had been dancing around each other all day, an almost annoying amount of sexual tension was in the air and it was starting to get ridiculous.

Jogging back up to your beach chair to get some water, you realized Natasha was hot on your heels.

“Hey girl, need a drink? What’s up”

Phoenix knew she didn’t know the girl well but screw it, it couldn’t hurt to give a little push could it?

“You and Hangman need to just fuck and get this over with Y/N, poor guy might explode if you don’t just admit you like him too.”

You spray the water that you had just gulped into the sand, gasping for air and looking at her like she’d just grown three heads.

“I- what?!” You spluttered, you knew Phoenix wasn’t exactly subtle but Jesus.

“You guys have been doing this dance for weeks and I’m sure it’s been fun, trust me it’s always a blast to watch Seresin get knocked down a peg but the poor guy is so goo goo for you and you know you have him totally wrapped. He’s hot, you’re hot and you obviously like each other so just throw him a bone, might be fun!”

She throws her head back and laughs, clapping you on the shoulder before running back towards the guys leaving you bewildered in her wake.

Had it been that obvious that the two of you were into each other? Jake was a flirt for sure, just part of who he was but you definitely thought you’d been more discreet.

Hours go by and as the sun goes down everyone begins to pack it up, most of them heading to the Hard Deck for drinks or back home. You lingered a little in the parking lot letting everyone leave before you made your way to your car. Just as you are done throwing on your shorts and packing up your trunk you feel a pair of strong arms around your waist and relax into his touch. There he is, Jake Seresin, not his larger than life Hangman persona, just your Jake.

He leans in to press kisses to your neck, getting a little braver and handsy now that the lot is empty of his squad.

“You looked hot as hell today sugar, do you have any idea how hard it is to keep my hands off you when you look this good?” Running his hands up and down your sides you sigh and melt into him. He’s fully enveloped your senses now, makes it almost impossible to come up with a coherent thought that doesn’t include jumping his bones right here.

“I-well- you can’t always be the prettiest one in this relationship princess” you say, turning in his arms to face him and giving him the sloppiest lovedrunk look, it’s almost embarrassing how he renders you stupid even now.

He barks out a laugh and peppers kisses all over your cheeks, basking in the ability to just be Jake and Y/N after having to keep up the act at work.

“Soooo about that, we are gonna have to tell people soon baby, Phoenix corned me earlier and told me I should take pity on you and just take you to bed” you erupt in giggles at the look on his face, he ranges from shocked to embarrassed in a matter of seconds, pulling back a little to rub his hand over his face.

“Shit, and here I thought we were being subtle, but I guess having to stare at my wife at work all day and not being allowed to touch her like I want is making my self control non existent.” He looks at you sheepishly, it’s honorable at the effort he puts in to keep your relationship safe from the prying eyes of the navy, even though all he really wants is to be out in the open.

“We can always just drop the facade Jake, I know you try to keep it quiet for my sake and I know it’s been difficult. Trust me I find it harder and harder every day to keep work and home separate, especially seeing you in your flight suit every day.” You comically wiggle your eyebrows at him and smack his ass but he just shakes his head, knowing you’re trying to break the tension. You sigh and press a kiss to his cheek, “If it’s this hard for both of us to keep it a secret I can just lay it all out for the team. Honestly, you might as well let someone other than Javy know that the Hangman has a soul.”

He just laughs, he’s always wanted to protect your career, knows it’s hard enough as a woman in a military setting but being married to one of the best naval aviators in the country and also trying to make your own name in your field just makes it harder. Someone inevitably makes a comment about how you got where you are because of Jake and then you have to beg him to keep his nose clean, it was just easier when you were asked to consult on this mission for Top Gun (a super prestigious honor in itself), if you came to Fightertown as Y/N L/N, not Mrs. Jake Seresin.

“If you’re ready to take the leap baby you know I’ll follow your lead. I just want you to know how important you are to me no matter what you decide.”

You could swoon over this man, he never ceases to be full of love and support even when you know keeping your relationship private is a strain on him. Looking up at him with a big grin you lean in and kiss him.

“Come on lover, let’s get you home so I can fuck your brains out and get your head back in the game for this mission. Your poor team might go insane if they have to watch me fake hate you for one more minute” he follows you to your door, spinning you around to cage you in and initiate a kiss that quickly borders inappropriate before you smack at his chest and say something along the lines of keep it in your pants until we get home cowboy.

You hear him give a disgruntled comment as he heads to his side of the car after shutting your door, “I mean I think it’s hot, the whole pretending to hate me thing, kind of like role playing” and you cackle at how ridiculous he is, just as much of a horn dog for you as he was when you finally started dating near the end of his first big mission almost 5 years ago.

Back then he had just gotten his callsign, everyone thought he was a big bad asshole with a God complex but with you he was just your Jake. His mama had taught him to be nothing less than the perfect gentleman and he had you hooked by the end of your first date, unashamedly telling you after kissing you that he could do that for the rest of his life. Needless to say it didn’t take long before you had a ring on your finger, so wrapped up in love Javy calling you both vomit inducing on more than one occasion.

Monday comes all too soon, the mission now a week out, you’d spent the weekend effectively relaxing your husband by taking him apart bit by bit until he was fully back to his normal self. After breakfast that may or may not have resulted in you bent over the kitchen counter you finally pull into the parking lot with time to spare by Jake’s truck. Peeking around to see if anyone is looking you lean up to kiss him, grabbing a handful of his ass in his flight suit quickly dodging him and laughing before he can really get his hands on you.

“I’ll see you for dinner!” He says shaking his head and you wave wildly at him rushing through the hangar door.

What you don’t see is a gobsmacked Baby Bob Floyd parked on the other side of the lot, fumbling with his phone as he whispers “Omg wait until Phoenix hears this.”

Tags- @mamachasesmayhem

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[bari-the-witch]

Mating dance

I got the idea to write that this morning while watching that video.

Written for @steddie-week day 2: Fluff

“And then the male starts his beautiful and quite fun to watch mating dance, trying to mesmerize the female into giving him her full attention. Look at how he moves around her, throwing his head back and showing off his impressive chest…”

Eddie watches the screen with rapt attention, one of his hands stopping halfway to his mouth, the popcorn on his lap long forgotten.

There is something hypnotic about what the bird is doing, dancing, and whistling, to impress the female in front of him.

Wow, and all that just to get laid. What an idiot.

Ever since he was a child, Eddie loved nature documentaries, something only a few of his friends know. It isn’t because he's ashamed of it. There is nothing shameful about learning more of the world around you, but it’s also nothing he parades around.

Wayne knows of course, he’s the one who got Eddie into it one rainy Saturday evening a few years ago. And it’s still their thing at least once a month, when Wayne works the day shift for a change, watching TV all night after they changed into their most comfortable pajamas. Some would call it childish, and Eddie is too old for this. Eddie calls it the happiest time of the month.

The second person to know about this is Steve.

Yeah, you heard right, Steve Harrington, former douchebag King Steve who actually turned out to be a decent guy, knows about mean and scary looking Eddie Munson that he likes to watch nature documentaries in his free time. Steve Harrington, who's also his friend now, a pretty good friend Eddie likes to point out.

It happened four weeks ago on a Saturday, when he and Wayne had their monthly Munson movie marathon. The knock on the door came as a surprise and Eddie threw a confused look in Wayne's direction, who simply shrugged his shoulders and said he didn’t expect anyone tonight. Eddie's pretty sure he didn't make any plans either.

The knock came again, firmer this time, so Eddie got up begrudgingly, wondering who's knocking on their door this time of the night uninvited. For a split second, all kinds of bad scenarios ran through his mind, ranging from Vecna being back to one of the townspeople having enough and trying to beat him up in his own home.

Turns out as he opened the door, he made plans with someone, Steve to be exact. And totally forgot about it.

In the end, Steve ended up wedged between them, a bowl of popcorn in his lap and the cutest, most confused expression on his face. Wayne, the old gossip girl, immediately told Steve everything about their monthly ritual, including Eddie’s fondness for animal documentaries.

Eddie expected at least some kind of teasing comment because it really was something to tease about, but Steve only nodded in understanding while chewing on a piece of popcorn, fueling Eddie’s pathetic crush further like a can of gasoline thrown into a fiery pit.

And now Eddie's sitting here on Steve’s couch, watching TV while Steve prepares something to eat. Eddie’s mouth waters at the delicious smell of a home-cooked meal wafting over from the kitchen.

He offered his help, only earning a stern look in return, so he walked back to the living room and popped in a tape to pass the time until dinner. Geez, he only nearly burned down the kitchen once because he got distracted by something outside. Steve really shouldn’t be so resentful about this.

"What are you watching?”

At the sound of Steve's voice, Eddie nearly throws over the popcorn bowl on his lap.

“Jesus Christ, Stevie. Wear a bell next time!” he says, gripping the bowl tighter, trying to calm his erratic heartbeat.

“I told you I’m like a ninja,” Steve replies amusedly at Eddie’s reaction. 

Eddie rolls his eyes. “Tell yourself that. It only worked because I was distracted.” He motions his head to the TV where another bird is trying to woo the totally unimpressed female in front of him.

“Sure, if you say so,” Steve says as he puts the two steaming bowls of pasta he’s carrying on the table. He then takes a seat on the couch beside him, a lot closer than Eddie’s poor heart can handle. With how close they’re sitting, Eddie is hyperaware of the warmth of Steve’s skin even through several layers of fabric and it makes him want to do all kinds of very stupid things right now.

To distract himself, he takes the bowl of food into his hands and takes a careful bite. It’s fucking delicious as always.

“Wow, I can’t believe it’s actually working,” Steve snorts at something happening on the screen. “I mean, one moment she looks like she doesn’t care and in the next she’s like - BOOM - totally impressed. Only because he’s puffing out his chest a bit and making all these weird noises.”

“You mean like you?” Eddie teases, bumping their shoulders together. “Looks a bit familiar actually.”

“H- Hey!” Steve sputters wide-eyed. “I do not - I don’t like that, man. Take that back!”

“Yes, you do.”

“No!”

“Come on Steve, even you have to admit that it’s almost the same.”

“Eddie, come on,” Steve laughs embarrassed. “Don’t be an ass. I don't look like that when I’m flirting.”

“You mean,” Eddie puts the bowl back on the table before jumping up and moving around until he’s in front of Steve, “You don’t walk around like that when you want to impress someone?” He puffs out his chest just like the bird did, throwing his head back and moving his arms in a bad impression of wings, flailing them around. “Because I’ve clearly seen those moves on you before, Stevie. Don’t deny it.”

“Oh my God Eddie, stop it. You look absolutely ridiculous!” Steve laughs, holding his stomach and nearly toppling over from laughing so hard. There are tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and the rush of making Steve lose it like this only spurs Eddie on further to make an idiot out of himself.

“Sorry Stevie, I can’t hear you over my awesome imitation of your flirting,” Eddie cackles, jumping and flailing around like a maniac.

“Shit,” Steve says between wheezing breaths. “Shit, I can’t believe this is so working on me right now.”

Eddie nearly lands face first on the floor, stumbling over his own two feet at Steve’s unexpected words. As he gets back his footing his head immediately snaps over to him. Steve's mouth is pressed into a firm line, a bright blush high on his cheeks while he tries to avoid Eddie’s eyes.

“Uh, just - just forget what I said.”

The carefree atmosphere from before felt tense now, replacing laughter with awkward silence. Eddie needs a moment to fully comprehend what Steve said, and after he did, the first slivers of hope lodge themselves inside his chest.

Holy shit, did that mean…?

“Steve…?” Eddie asks hopefully, walking a few steps closer. “Does that mean you…?”

Steve snorts, but it sounds bitter this time. “That I have had a huge fucking crush on you for months now and it’s slowly driving me crazy? Yes, absolutely. Do what you want with that, but please,” he gulps, looking at Eddie pleadingly. "Let's just… talk about something else?”

Eddie dreamed for months of hearing those words coming out of Steve’s mouth and he never thought he’d hear them for real, not in a million years. But here they are now, in the middle of the Harrington living room after Steve dropped the bomb of crushing on him for months. Not weeks, not days. Months. So, it isn’t a spur of the moment thing but actual, serious feelings. The whole situation is so surreal, that's the only explanation for what Eddie is doing next.

He laughs, right into Steve’s face.

 It starts with a small huff, before spiraling into something loud and boisterous. Eddie grips his stomach like Steve did before, trying to catch his breath in between.

“Glad this is amusing you so much,” Steve hisses, crossing his arms in front of his chest as a sign of defense. “God, I’m such an idiot…”

No. Nope. Oh no, shit. He didn’t mean it like that. At all.

Just as Steve shoots up from the couch and is about to squeeze himself through the gap between Eddie and the table, Eddie wakes up from his stupor, quickly grabbing Steve’s wrist.

“Hey, no. Sorry I- I didn’t mean it like that.”

Steve doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn't try to leave again, so Eddie continues.

"Sorry for laughing at you. I shouldn’t have done that,” he says ruefully, pulling a strand of hair in front of his face. "But you totally caught me off guard with your confession. Not that it’s your fault or anything. I just never thought I’d hear those words like ever, so… God, it’s so weird that you finally said them and all it took was moving in front of you like an idiot. With a stupid bird mating dance.”

Tentative laughter bubbles out of his chest, filling the space between them and only now Eddie realizes how close they’re standing. His lips suddenly feel dry, and he licks them, noticing Steve's eyes follow the movement. 

Eddie never kissed someone or was kissed before, but even he knows the meaning of this.

So, with one last look, to make sure he doesn't read this wrong, Eddie slowly leans in, giving Steve enough time to draw back or shove him away.

He doesn’t.

Eddie has no clue what he’s doing when he presses their lips together, when he grabs Steve’s face in his hands by instinct, angling it to the side, so he can slot their open mouths together to deepen the kiss. But it must be the right thing to do because Steve enthusiastically returns it, burrowing his hands into Eddie’s hair, tugging lightly at the strands.

Eddie gasps, so Steve does it again.

The kiss is hot and messy and even better than he imagined it in the solitude of his room. It sends tingles from his lips all the way down his spine before it pools hotly in his stomach like a pond of molten lava. 

When they part again after seconds, minutes, hours, Eddie can’t really tell, he needs a moment to gather his thoughts, and when he opens his eyes, he sees Steve isn’t far behind him on that. Steve's panting lightly, hair disheveled from Eddie’s hands, his lips swollen and shining wetly in the bright light of the still turned-on TV.

“Just for the record, I really like you,” Steve whispers, leaning his forehead against Eddie’s with still closed eyes. “If you haven’t noticed already.”

“Hmm, I’m not sure,” Eddie answers playfully, pretending to take a moment to think about it. “I guess I need more convincing.”

“Idiot…," Steve huffs amusedly and kisses him again.

Later, when both of them feel like their lips are about to fall off, they cuddle on the couch and watch the rest of the movie. Steve is on his back, head propped up on the armrest, legs stretched out and his arm around Eddie’s back. Eddie's draped halfway on top of him, playing with a loose thread from Steve’s shirt.

“I still can’t believe this shit worked on me,” Steve says as he watches another bird try its luck at a female. He tenses. “Oh God, please don’t tell anyone this is how we got together. Please, Eddie. You can’t do that to me.”

“What? Afraid you’ll lose some cool points to the kids?”

This earns him a pinch to the side.

“Come on, say it.”

“Hmm, no.”

“Eddie!”

Steve pinches him again, which makes Eddie laugh and pinch him back, and soon they’re tangled up in a full-blown pinching war, missing the rest of the movie.

[two-red-lungs]

Pick Your Poison

Paul/Fem!Reader

Content: Slow burn, stoner!Paul, he’s the Drugs Guy and I love him, unresolved tension, the Lost Boys are SO toxic

Word Count: 2.9k

The neon sign in Saigon Soul’s window hummed, luminous and red, casting vermillion’s feather-soft hue across the rapidly cooling colors of the night. The last rays of the sun had faded less than an hour ago: but as soon as they did, like clockwork, your new favorite entertainment emerged. Just like he did every night. A reverse Cinderella.

Red looked good on Paul. It haloed his product-stiff blonde mane in a ruby glow and glittered like pomegranate seeds in a marching line down his gilded row of medallions. Turned his off-white eyes and teeth pink, too. He huffed, smacking his lips obnoxiously in an effort to puff away the heat of his extra-spicy beef noodle pho, flapping his hands about. The piles of bracelets on his wrists jangled.

“Fuck me, man. That’s good.” He said in his usual laid-back, loose tone after a gulp of iced tea from his flimsy paper cup. 

“Mmm.” You hummed and picked up a heavy shrimp spring roll with your chopsticks. Maybe it was the thick seaside summer air, or the heavenly deep-fried smells that wafted your way every time the narrow restaurant door opened, but the damn things smelled amazing. “Told ya. This place is a total hole in the wall but their food’s primo.”

“Uh-huh.” He sucked pepper oil off the pad of his thumb and scratched his stubbly cheek contemplatively. Even like this, reeking of sweat and looking like a cat got lost in his hair somewhere, he was so beautiful it was almost ridiculous. Damn those baby blues. “My man Dwayne’s gonna dig on this stuff. He’s one bona fide heat fiend. Eats the fuckin, the… the uh…” He snapped his fingers a few times, brows furrowed in utmost stupefied contemplation. “The little spoons, with the red powder on top, you know—”

“Tamarind candy?”

His face lit up like the sun. Jesus Christ. That smile was a flashbang, a dynamite stick, a stun baton. Made you go all stupid. “Yeah! Yeah, man, the tamarind candy! Gotta get him some of that stuff.”

You looked down at your paper plate of food and worried at the inside of your lip with your teeth. Somewhere down the street dance music was playing. Car lights ghosted over your and your dinnermate, lighting up the strangers that walked by on the sidewalk next to you. It was by all means a perfect night: balmy wind and the distant sound of the boardwalk rides on the air. But Paul bringing up his brother… it sent an uneasy sensation down your spine and you couldn’t quite pin down why. 

Paul had stumbled into your life three weeks ago, completely drunk on the beach. You’d been a good samaritan: held his hair back while he puked, tossed him a bottle of water while he reeled and slurred out that his brothers had dumped his ass for being too intoxicated. But the whole while, he grinned. Like he could enjoy anything. Like no matter what situation life put him in, he’d find some way to have fun. 

He sat by your little bonfire in the grassy dunes and you chatted. You showed him some of your stick-n-poke tats and he’d insisted on getting one himself. And (in a decidedly less good samaritan way) you’d given him one, india ink blackening your fingers and his inner arm skin cold under your fingers. And that’s how you’d gotten to know him, how you’d continued to know him over the last collection of days. Alone, just him. His weird, easily-distractible, impulsive, entertaining self. He mentioned he had three brothers, once or twice, and you took it in stride. 

Then you’d seen him with them. 

He was like an entirely different person. 

Across the sea of beach boardwalk heads you’d spotted him. But it didn’t feel like him. He sat lazily up on a railing surrounded by equally eccentric young men, and they watched the crowd like tigers. Like mad kings looking down on their kingdom. A beautiful young woman passed and they all jeered, whooping and whistling and clapping: even Paul. With an aggression and odd hunger in his eyes you’d never seen before. They all moved in tandem, like wolves, wordlessly communicating in a way that made your skin crawl. 

You left. 

Now he was Paul again tonight: just Paul, the Paul you knew and hoped to god was the real version. The guy who couldn’t talk and chew gum to save his life. The guy who declared a thumb war with you and proceeded to lose six times in a row. The guy who delighted in rocking the sky-glider that slowly trundled over the pier until you were shrieking and clinging to his coat.

Either way, real Paul or not, you were glad you’d yet to meet his family. 

The blonde stretched, yawned, and hopped out of his seat, digging a hand into his dingy riding pants pocket. When you moved to counter, pulling your wallet out of your bag, he uh-uhed you and flapped his own leather-bound one in your face. “Not a chance, girl. Paulie’s good for it.”

You raised your brows. As far as you knew, he was a surf bum with a penchant for partying. No way was he holding down a nine to five to pay for dinner. 

Paul scoffed at your look. “I got a freebie from a real charitable dude.” He flashed the corner of a hundred at you and stuck out his tongue with a smile before wrestling two fives out of his cash-thick wallet. 

“Uh-huh. Someone just… handed you what, looks like… six hundred bucks?”

“He didn’t need ‘em anymore.” Paul didn’t even watch his wallet fall, he just dropped it to the table, flattening the bills to presentability with his fingers. “Try not to miss me, ‘kay?” In a whirl of pungent sea salt and old-timey coattails he was inside the little eatery, the bell on the poster-covered door jingling. 

You idly scratched at the hem of his leather wallet with your thumb nail while you waited. Real charitable dude, huh? You weren’t stupid. Paul was a street fiend. Ran trades and exchanges from the pockets sewn inside his coat with practiced ease, like he was born to sell ditchweed and glass-cut coke to summer-break college students. No doubt that’s where the money came from. Hell, the way he was standing around with his brothers… you wouldn’t be surprised if they were his suppliers. 

Something crunched under the edge of your nail. You brought your thumb to your face. There was a line of red, deep and nearby brown, trapped between the keratin and your skin. Dirt, obviously. 

It was dirt. 

Had to be dirt.

Like a category three hurricane, Paul was back, and before you knew it you were on your feet and moseying down the bustling town avenue. One of his long, lithe arms was draped almost crushingly over your shoulder, holding you to his side. He jingled with every footfall. Golden strands of hair blustered in the corner of your vision and you felt his ribs, pressed against your side, swell and contract with a contented sigh.

Two could play at that overconfident, wild-child game. With a little effort you extracted a pinned arm and shoved it under his coat, grabbing his waist over his mesh top and holding him much in the same way he held you as you jaunted down the avenue. He threw his head back and laughed, his stride never wavering. 

“You kinda got guts, girl.” He cackled into the coastal breeze. 

“So, Paulie.” You ignored his needling, crossing the crosswalk and ambling past seemingly endless pizzerias and cinemas and smoke shops. “Level with your good, kind, very honest and transparent friend. How many acid tabs did you sling to get that sorta funding?”

Paule shook your shoulder with a strong hand. “Wasn’t lyin’ to you, c’mon. I really did get that green for free.” The walk sign nearby turned from stop to go and you crossed another street. “Me and my brothers, we got ways, y’know? Not gonna be strapped for cash any time soon.”

Sometimes, when Paul looked at you just right, you thought your damn heart was gonna beat out of your chest. Like he saw right through the bullshit into your soul. But other times, times like now, you realized just how little you actually knew the guy. 

“I got ‘bout an hour before I gotta jet, girl.” Paul started talking again and you blinked: you’d arrived in front of the bulb-studded Casino Arcade arched entrance at the boardwalk without even noticing it. When you looked up at him, he was already looking down at you, eyes crinkled in kiddish mischief. “You down for a puff ‘n play?”

“Just an hour?” You mockingly pouted, extracting yourself from him and crossing your arms broodingly in the small ever-flowing crowd of young adults going in and out of the noisy arcade. “Geez, Paul. What am I, a time-killer till you can go have real fun?”

He laughed and there was a bark to it. “If you could handle real fun I’d take you with me.” A little of his usual spaced-out bliss receded. “But I, uh. Don’t really think the guys would appreciate a plus one at our… parties.”

“Wow.” You deadpanned. “Not vague and condescending at all.” With a conceding huff you punched his shoulder playfully, making his body rock like an inflatable car-sale mascot. “Fine, blondie. I’m game.” Paul was grinning from ear to ear and dragged you by the sleeve off to the underside of the pier, fishing around in his inside pockets. “But none of that skunkweed, you hear me? And if I kick your butt at Speedway again you gotta gimme your ring like you promised last time!”

He stopped short so quickly you nearly collided with his tall, narrow back. Paul whirled around. “Yeah? What do I get if I win?”

You were very acutely aware of how close he was standing, nearly chest-to-chest, and how the shadow-painted back side of the arcade by the barnacle-stippled pier was much less crowded than the arcade. You swallowed and his sharp, playful gaze tracked the motion of your throat reflexively. “It’s— augh, um— mystery prize. Can’t tell you what it is till you win. Which you won’t.”

He was silent for a few seconds, sucking on the inside of his cheek. Thinking. Then he grinned. “Alright.” He flicked a lighter across his knuckles and pressed the button down. The little firelight flickered wildly in the turbulent air. “Let’s get toasted.”

Sitting down in the shadow-dark sand between the pier legs, watching him roll a joint right then and there on his narrow knee, you reeled. Sometimes you really couldn’t tell what his deal was. Were you a time-killer? A listening ear? A friend? The way he looked at you, sometimes— it didn’t feel friendly.

If it was good or bad, though… the jury was still out on that one. 

So. It wasn’t skunkweed.

It was nice and palatable and bright. Absolutely top-shelf stuff he was handing out to you pro-bono. The world was a delicious blur: arcade lights were multihued and the speaker music was pop-y and completely grooveable. Your skin prickled in the hot interior air: fabric just felt better after a few puffs. And god, Paul was the funniest, weirdest, most oddly endearing beanstalk of a man when he was on the stuff. 

He had his forehead pressed so hard to the claw machine it was going to leave a red halo: he beat the side with his fist and howled in breathy, entertained frustration when the wimpy claw let the neon green monkey plush slip from its grasp under your careful joystick management. “Ahh, you dropped it again! Unbelievable!”

“It’s not exactly made to be easy, doofus! I’d like to see you try.” You half-chuckled, half-grumbled, feeding the hungry quarter slot more change. You missed the slot a few times before you succeeded. 

Paul reeled back and rounded the machine like a big cat, waving jingly arms. “You’re an amateur, girl. Let a pro show ya how it’s done.” 

You assumed he’d push you out of the way: god knows he'd done it before. But no, of course now he decided to act exactly like the Paul you’d come to know. He pressed up behind you, chin tickling the crown of your head, and put a hand over yours on the joystick when the machine popped back to life, revitalized by the loose change. It chirped out a happy eight-bit tune and Paul hummed along to it, guiding the claw around and back. His fingers were cool over yours. You could feel his belt buckle biting into your back over your shirt. 

You held very, very still, mouth pressed into a thin line. He jammed the drop button. The claw lowered, clamped over the green monkey, and hauled it over to the prize chute. It dropped it without a hitch: the plush clunked into the deposit receptacle.

Paul’s mouth was behind your ear, cold breath on the shell of it. “See? Pro.”

Then he was gone, crouching like an animal by the chute and wrestling the monkey free, and god you were reeling again: collecting your very high nerves with hands still clutching the sweating joystick plastic. 

“What’s my prize?”

“...Huh?” 

Paul doubled down, resting his weight against the Blasteroids arcade machine and wiggling the monkey at you. “I won. What’s my mystery prize, hmm?”

You collected yourself enough, finally. At least enough to scoff dismissively. “Please, I basically wiped the floor with you in Speedway and Super Mario—”

“You can’t argue with evidence, girl.” When you lunged to snatch the green ‘evidence’ out of his grip he reached upwards with it, holding it over your head mockingly, a cheshire smile on his face. “Cough it up. I want my prize.”

You jumped for the monkey and it went even higher. Grumbling and hopping and face starting to grow very flushed with an ‘I don’t have a fucking mystery prize’ panic, you rambled and cajoled at him, flipping between wheedling and threatening. It took you about fifteen seconds to realize he was no longer staring down at you, but rather over your head. 

“Paul.” A laid-back, low male voice said evenly from behind you. 

An icy knot formed in your stomach. You turned, slow as a glacier, and yep, it was exactly what you thought it was. Two of the brothers you’d spied the blonde hanging out with before. The tall, dark, and brooding one, and the peroxide-spiked trench coat model.

The latter lifted his eyebrows at you when he caught you staring. A tight, cold smile graced his lips for a moment before he turned his cutting gaze back to his brother. “Thought we all agreed to be at the statue by ten. We missed you.” His eyes slide back to you. “Who’s your friend?”

You stood as tall as you could in the given circumstances, feeling rather like a park ranger making himself as big as possible to frighten off a bear. An introduction was on the tip of your tongue. It got knocked off of it when Paul abruptly elbowed past you, shoulder-checking you hard enough to offset your balance. When he stood by his brothers, he looked exactly in place. Like he was meant to be there. 

He glanced down his nose at you. There was a different sort of smile on his face. An insider smile. One you didn’t feel like was for you. “Just some chick, David. Y’know how it is. Where’s Marko?”

“Scoping out dinner. Probably waiting on us, now.”

“Shit man, then let’s go!” Paul crowed, snapping his fingers and grinning, tongue trapped between his teeth. “I’m starvin’.”

The whole while they talked, the tall, dark-haired one watched you with crossed arms. Taking in the way your face shifted, the confused, hurt pinch in your brow. The pac-man machine illuminated half his face, like a skull of amber-yellow. You caught his eye. The intensity of his gaze forced yours down to the multicolored carpet. 

“After you.” David gestured broadly with a gloved hand towards the arcade entrance, and Paul flounced towards it without so much as a goodbye or a sparing glance in your direction, even after an entire evening together. David looked at the dark-haired one. “Dwayne. Time to roll.”

A long-drawn out pause. You refused to look up. 

“...Comin’.” Dwayne eventually said. The trio disappeared between arcade machines, tops of their heads barely visible, then vanished into the crowded Santa Carla night. 

The green monkey was abandoned on the floor, limbs splayed. You picked it up, its glassy plastic eyes blankly reflecting the arcade lights. Like it was mocking you for being there, alone, after that. 

“Fucking asshole.” You breathed in disbelief to yourself. Far more hurt than you thought you’d be. You’d hung out with him for what, six days, tops? Were you even friends? Was he not just some nighttime stranger, a weirdo who emerged from the woodwork to show you a good time once in a while? Paul was good. Paul was fun. He was a fat blunt and a shot of tequila and a roller-coaster ride all wrapped up into one person. 

You’d picked him as your poison of preference. It was a good poison. Now you were starting to wonder if you’d picked wrong. 

[ladyimaginarium]

when ethel cain said "i always knew that in the end, no one was coming to save me, so i just prayed and i keep praying and praying" & "god loves you but not enough to save you" & "so, baby girl, good luck taking care of yourself" & "god doesn't love you, not like i do" & "you and me against the world [...] we had nothing but each other, you were my whole world" & "your mama calls me sometimes to see if i'm doing well and i'd lie to her and say that i'm doing fine when, really, i'd kill myself to hold you one more time, and it hurts to miss you but it's worse to know that i'm the reason you won't come home" & "you know, i still wait at the edge of town, praying straight to god that maybe you'll come back around, i cry everyday and the bottles make it worse 'cause you were the only one i was never scared to tell i hurt [...] and you might never come back home, and i may never sleep at night, but god, i hope you're doing fine out there, i just pray that you're alright, and i feel so alone, and i feel so alone out here [...] and i feel so alone without you, i'm so alone" & "i'd hold the gun if you asked me to, but if you love me like you say you do, would you ask me to?" & "i tried to be good, am i no good, am i no good, am i no good?" & "i just wanted to be yours, can i be yours, can i be yours, can i be yours?" & "but in these motel rooms, i started to see you differently, 'cause for the first time since i was a child, i could see a man who wasn't angry" & "i thought good guys get to be happy, i'm not happy, i am poison in the water and unhappy" & then "preacher's saying god will save me, if god is real, he's a fucking bitch" & "i didn't ask to be this crazy but since we're here, i'll give them a show" & "if you try to hurt me, i won't stop you, but there's something you should know, it's that my daddy's fucking crazy and always ready to blow" & "the first boy i ever loved was a brother i never had, i thought, with him, maybe i'd make it, maybe it'd be half as bad, spent my night under the covers just wishing he was there, draw his portrait in my diary just to hold when i got scared, now i'm fucked up and i'm nasty, but they say i make it look good" & "what's gonna scare me when i've seen it all? [...] if i can't live, can i just fucking die?" & "am i not good enough for you? is there something wrong with me? baby, don't you lie to me, am i just not what you want? am i just not what you need? is there someone in your heart that keeps you gone away from me? is she prettier than me? is her skin softer than mine? can she give you what i can't? the thing i cry for every night?" & "i think about you everyday, 'cause i love you more than i thought i could [...] 'cause i don't hate you like i know i should, was i not good enough for you? was there something wrong with me? i just cry by myself at night but you'll never know and you'll never see" & "sometimes you make me wanna put my fucking head through the wall, sometimes i wonder if i ever even knew you at all" & "and we've been cursed since the start, jesus didn't want us [...] and fuck the cops and fuck god and fuck this town for ruining us" & "in the corner, on my birthday, you watched me dancing right there in the grass, i was too young to know that some types of love could be bad" & "you poor thing, sweet mourning lamb, there's nothing you can do, it's already been done" & "bless the children, each and every one come to know their god through some senseless act of violence" & "stop, stop, stop, make it stop, stop, make it stop, make it stop, i've had enough" & "i am the face of love's rage" & "and i spend my life watching it go by from the sidelines, and, god, i've tried, but i think it's about time i put up a fight" & "i forgive it all as it comes back to me" & "dancing with the windows open, i can't let go when something's broken, it's all i know, and it's all i want now" i& just. okayokayokayokay okay yeah alright hahahaha lmaoooo im& totally fine i& just

[meingesegnetesleben-blog]

Footsteps and Fellowship: Tales from the Camino de Santiago

Once upon a time, in a land not so far away, there existed this pilgrimage route called the Camino de Santiago. It was like Disneyland for medieval Christians, right up there with Rome and Jerusalem. Imagine millions of people from all over the world strapping on their sandals and embarking on a journey for spiritual enlightenment, personal reflection, or just to spice up their Instagram feed with some epic adventure pics.

Legend has it that this guy named James, or as his pals called him, St. James the Great, decided to take a little trip to Spain to spread the good word of Christianity. Now, whether he made it there or not is still a topic for history buffs to argue over, but what we do know is that Spain kinda took a shine to him, thanks to his relics chilling in Santiago de Compostela. And thus, the Camino de Santiago was born—a network of routes that crisscrossed Spain and even spilled over into other parts of Europe.

But who was this St. James character, you ask? Well, he was your average Galilean fisherman turned apostle, hanging out with Jesus and witnessing all His miracles, like turning water into wine and walking on water. Unfortunately for James, his story ended on a rather grim note when he became the first apostle to bite the dust, courtesy of King Herod Agrippa I. Ouch.

Now, why on earth would Gladys (@gladiatorGlasyl), one of my closest and weirdest friends, and I decide to tackle this medieval pilgrimage? Oh, let's blame it on Gladys and her wild ideas. She was all set to do the Camino in June, and I just had to chime in with, 'Why not April? I could join!' Because, you know, I just couldn't bear the thought of missing out on her adventure. So naturally, she couldn't say no to me hijacking her plans. Bernard was supposed to complete our fabulous trio, but alas, other priorities got in his way. And that's how Gladys and I found ourselves preparing for a totally "planned" journey—not because we're seasoned hikers (far from it), but because we've always had a knack for turning mundane situations into questionable adventures. Plus, trying to sync our leave schedules was a delightful nightmare, but hey, when opportunity knocks, you grab it, right?

Hence, we settled on the Camino Inglés, the glamorous trek from Ferrol to Santiago de Compostela. Here, blisters became our new best friend, and complaining about sore feet was the main event! So, we strapped on those hiking shoes and got ready for a six-day journey filled with laughter, storytelling, banter, sarcastic quips, and scaring each other—better than any reality TV show.

As we embarked on an unforgettable journey starting from Ferrol, where anticipation filled the air, we passed through rolling hills, occasional glimpses of farm animals, Gladys bullying the dogs (like dogs everywhere and the diva cats!), and the earthy scent of the countryside—nature's unique fragrance. Amidst the chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of leaves, the footsteps of fellow pilgrims set the rhythm for our adventure.

As we progressed from Pontedeume to Bruma, we braced ourselves for a challenging ascent. Yet, this climb was akin to ascending nature's staircase to paradise, offering breathtaking vistas at every turn. The route from Bruma to Sigueiro was among the most remarkable walks we had ever experienced, showcasing the grandeur of Mother Earth in all her glory.

The highlight awaited us on the final leg from Sigueiro to Santiago. We pictured ourselves meandering through an enchanted forest, where the ethereal melodies of Celtic (its actually Galician) music seemed to dance on the breeze—enticing even the most hesitant of dancers to join in the revelry.

Forget about luxurious spa treatments; on the Camino, blisters are the ultimate souvenir. You'll collect them like badges of honor, right Steffi? (at least for me, apparently Gladys has a thick skin), and proudly displaying your battle scars to anyone who dares to ask about your "vacation." And let's not forget the colorful characters we encountered along the way. From the other pilgrims, we chatted with at every rest stop to the mysterious locals who seemed to materialize out of thin air, greeting us with 'Buen Camino,' there's never a dull moment on the Camino. But hey, it's not all doom and gloom. Amidst the pain and exhaustion, you'll forge bonds with your fellow sufferers that will last a lifetime. Nothing brings people together like shared misery, right? What was the saying? It's about the journey, not the destination.

Speaking of colorful characters, I'm always grateful for the belief that everything happens for a reason and that every twist and turn in our lives serves a purpose. We might not grasp it right away, but eventually, it unfolds before us. Coincidences? I'm not sure. The folks we encounter in our journey? They've got their own mission, their own motivation. The late-night chats, the stories swapped—they're like nuggets of wisdom wrapped into one.

Big shoutout to Steffi, our towering pal (we're vertically challenged, okay?). And to Veronica and Theresia, longtime pals who've been traversing this camino many times over. Thanks for the wild tales, ladies. And to Sharon, the queen of suggestions and hype, cheers for keeping us going. And to our tapas-and-tinto-de-verano companions—Kathleen, Janine, Noah, Jasmin—y'all rock for sharing your journey with us.

What made our experience even more ridiculous is the fact that Gladys and I are about as outdoorsy as a penguin in the Sahara. We're more likely to be found at a hole-in-a-wall restaurant than trudging through rugged terrain. But hey, life's all about stepping out of your comfort zone, right?

As we stumbled our way to the Cathedral of St. James, I had a revelation: I actually missed writing. Like, with a pen and paper, not just typing away on a keyboard. Who knew walking for miles could reignite my passion for writing? So here I am, not really scribbling but typing away on my phone (I was on the plane, okay?), realizing that life is full of surprises, like finding a gourmet meal in a gas station or discovering a hidden talent for playing bagpipes!

Well, well, well, looks like our Camino expedition is just getting started! Picture this: another journey awaits, but we'll need to put our persuasive hats on for BK. Resistance is futile; he's joining the fun! What do you say? Portuguese Way, perhaps? And so, with a grateful heart, I bid farewell to the Camino de Santiago (for now), carrying with me a renewed sense of purpose and a treasure trove of memories (and perhaps a few extra pounds, that's more on Gladys though, I gave all mine to her). For some time, it's the adventures that leave us weary, longing for a hot shower, that truly enrich our souls. Here's to the journey, my dear amigos, filled with somber reflection and boundless joy. Until our paths intertwine once more in our next grand adventure! May we meet again, fueled by the memories of this unforgettable journey.

[awigglycultist]

We Didn't Plan To Kill Our Guest w/ DYLAN Saunders thoughts bc I never watcher and yes I know I'm 2 days late but I've been busy and couldn't watch it ok

JAIME

PLEASE THE LORI LOUGHLIN CRIME MENTION

YEAH WOO TIN CAN BROS WOOO

Why is Corey in a trashcan lol

Woah didn't know Brian was drummer 10/10

Jesus ok just mentioning someone death

"it's democrats like you that cost us the election" Pft

Yup very popular dance totally have seen it

Uhm Joey it's BOYS what are we gonna do not GUYS

Wow Dylan has really aged

Sjsjdhd the snapping

RONALD REGAN?

Old man boomer Dylan Saunders

"we know you're super busy" "I don't do anything at all"

PLEASE THE BIT WHERE DYLAN SAYS HE CAN DRIVE WITH HIS EYES CLOSED AND THEN HE CANT GRAB THE CUP

On FILM?

"with Dylan Saunders!" "who's that?"

"I got tales from the war"

Omg he's dead

LAUREN sorry I mean DOCTOR

DEAD AS A DOOR KNOB!

GET THEIR ASS DOCTOR

"am I problematic figure?"

Joey don't worry the doctor said natural causes I'm sure you didn't bore him to death it's fine

Joey's and Corey's little skips bdjdb

Love how the doctor says it was natural causes but they think everyone's gonna think they caused his death. Like guys if the autopsy report says natural causes its finneee

Finished, toasted, gazumped, fleeced. Fucked.

PLEASE BRIAN AND JOEY BEGGING THE AUDIENCE WHILE COREY THREATENS SOMEONE

Please they freak out over Dylan's death making it look like they killed him but are perfectly fine with killing other people

Yup great acting guys very normal

[BEEEEEP] yup that is Dylan's exact address

Jesus Brian is really chugging that water

I love that Joey's the only person aware of the voice over. Also again totally not suspicious looking

Dylan is being a great dead body btw

DYLAN IS HIS OWN BREED?

COREY BREAKING DURING THE SNAPPING/SINGING BIT

"woah woah hey did you just litter?" "yeah what's it to ya?"

This whole thing with Joey being the only one to hear voice over and for him to keep responding to it is so fucking funny

HITTING HIS HEAD ON THE CAR AJDJDN

"in all my time narrating- watching" hm

"one person's actions can have detrimental cause on this planet" hmm

"is this forever now?"

"or a mental institution? Should I check myself in? Hahahahahaha"

You're gonna wanna see this

"I always thought Dylan just liked to eat palm fulls of hard candy"

The female doctor call back

Yup just moisturize the clothes

"his fleeting alpha male status" hshshlsndks

Brian backing up a the way onto the floor lmao

Fucking incredible speech from Lauren

Everyone breaking from Lauren including herself

"yes but did you have to Wikipedia that?"

HE DESIGNED THE HINDENBURG

"he left Italy AFTER the fall of the roman empire"

Well the age thing just got a lot more confusing with that

"and you're a better man for it NOT YOU! NOT YOU! NOT HIM. Not him. Not you!" "I'm trying!" "not him!"

I'm sure you'll get the numbers right at some point Corey (probably not)

Hey you're trying Brian

Yup ok Joey thinks he might be gods prohet now

*sigh* Dylan would know what to say

Why does Corey have a 3 phones

"wether its god-" "who is a woman!"

I am so truly entranced in this scene with Rachel and Marianne

Wow.

OMG HERE COMES DYLAN AND THE BROS

Again incredible dead body acting from Dylan and so this is so fucking funny

Yeah totally inspiring

"and not to get political but fuck Donald Trump"

Oh no the cops

Tammy!

Musical number!!!

"fucking kidding me?... You guys are just leaving me?... You guys think this funny?"

"how long is this fucking song?"

Dylan and Lauren breaking again

"NONE OF US KNOWS WHAT THAT MEANS"

God that was hilarious

[jonbutter]

jonbutter’s official 2022 movie ranking list

Everything Everywhere All At Once

Jackass Forever

Nope

Marcel the Shell with Shoes On

The Batman

Glass Onion: A Knives Out Mystery

Turning Red

Avatar: The Way of Water

Tár

The Bob’s Burger’s Movie

The Bad Guys

Bulet Train

Weird: The Al Yankovic Story

Violent Night

Dual

Pearl

The Menu

Scream

I’m Totally Fine

Guillermo del Toro’s Pinocchio

Marry Me

Ticket to Paradise

Do Revenge

Triangle of Sadness

Chip ‘n Dale: Rescue Rangers

Black Panther: Wakanda Forever

Three Thousand Years of Longing

X

Smile

Barbarian

Sonic the Hedgehog 2

The Lost City

Strange World

Bodies Bodies Bodies

I Want You Back

Doctor Strange in the Multiverse of Madness

Babylon

Hocus Pocus 2

See How They Run

Moonfall

Fire Island

Honk for Jesus. Save Your Soul.

Crimes of the Future

The Black Phone

Whitney Houston: I Wanna Dance with Somebody

Thor: Love and Thunder

Jurassic World Dominion

Don’t Worry Darling

Mack & Rita

Ambulance

Bones and All

Elvis

Senior Year

Halloween Ends

Bros

The Storied Life of A.J. Fikry

Fall

Pinocchio

Blonde

Morbius

[drunkkenobi]

Oh boy oh boy, here we go.

I waited until this week to do a Ghost Files spreadsheet update because I wanted to do it the same week that I record the older videos. (I have two spreadsheets, one that I only record once a month and one that I do every week) I wanted to see overall what a difference GF has made to Watcher’s shows and views. But first!

All of these videos blow the previous “fastest to one million” Watcher records out of the water. Every Ghost Files episode has hit it in 29 hours or less.

Trending continues to baffle me. As you can see, St. Ignatius did not trend, but had the best opening weekend of them all. I will not and do not understand trending.

The Debriefs are doing about on par that the PostMortems did, with these actually doing better than the most recent PMs did in 2021. They are also quite meatier episode lengths.

You can’t really compare GF to anything else on Watcher’s slate because it’s so doing so far and above everything else. So I’ve been comparing it to the final few seasons of BFU. It’s right on track with those videos, which is pretty amazing considering GF is under a completely different name and channel. I know those of us Watcher fans who have been here since the beginning find the fact that so many people didn’t know it existed baffling, but the algorithm is bizarre and cruel, so I think it’s a huge accomplishment for Ryan and the crew to be right on track with its predecessor.

Also, it is very sweet to me that right now, the top 3 Watcher videos are all from a different Watcher founder. Waverly Hills at #1, Simu’s Dish Granted at #2, and Puppet History’s Dancing Plague at #3. Aw.

One of things I’ve been most excited about with tracking these numbers is how other Watcher series are doing now that Ghost Files is out and so big. This will probably get long, so under a cut.

A lot of Watcher series are up right now, but only the Ryan and Shane shows. Unfortunately, none of Steven or other creators’ shows have gotten a boost from GF. The two exceptions to this are two recent DG episodes. The Uncle Roger episode continues to perform very well (at 908k and counting, twice as much as any other episode from this season) and bless his heart, Zach Kornfeld’s episode got a mini-boost after all the Try Guys drama broke. None of the other Watcher videos featuring Keith or Zach had notable boosts, though. (thank god they never had Ned on, am I right?)

The newest season of TMS has gained an average of 69k (nice) views since GF premiered. Compared to a 4 week run in August, they gained a total of 26k views. The other seasons also got some mild boosts, except the most recent holiday one for whatever reason.

Newest season of AYS averaged new ~14k views over a 4 week period before GF. Now it has averaged ~49k views. Older seasons also got a bit of a boost, although interestingly again, not the second most recent one as much. Maybe people started the playlists at the beginning after watching most recent seasons and didn’t get to the second most recent ones yet?

Most recent season of Puppet History is up to 50k new views per episode since GF, compared to ~28k in the same time period. Older Puppet Histories are also doing very well across the board. Will be interested to see how much this continues with the new season on deck next.

And finally, our dearly beloved Weird and/or Wonderful World. It is not up across the board, but a few episodes have gotten boosts in the past month. Solvang is up 24k, Roller Derby was up 21k, Pop Pals 52k, and Pie Shop 29k. Not sure why only these got boosted, but I will take it. Watcher, please, give this show another chance.

Oh also Tourist Trapped is up 50k.

As of today, October 17, 2022, Watcher has 209,373,478 views across 221 videos. This averages out to 947,391 views per video. This is up from 887k per video that I recorded a month ago. Jesus fucking Christ.

I also subtracted every video that’s premiered since 9/19 to see how the average changes without Ghost Files numbers (or that one off AYS). The average for the 213 videos that premiered before GF is 913k, which is still up quite a bit.

Watcher has gained ~200k new subscribers (at 2.26m) to the channel during this time as well. Their patreon has also gone completely bananas in terms of members. They’re at 6300(!!!!) right now, which again, completely bananas. I know a lot of these folks will probably dip after GF ends for the season, but all of this support only means good things for Watcher. They’ve got more wiggle room now to travel again and try new things and give new creators more shots. After everything we’ve watched this channel go through over the past two and a half years, I could not be prouder. 

As always, thanks y’all for reading! I very much appreciate all the love and nice comments and tags I see on these posts. Glad we are all numbers nerds that are overinvested in Watcher. 

[notstilinski]

The Midnight Club Starters !

Taken from  the 2022 Netflix series, The Midnight Club! Some of these have already been edited. You can change them however you see fit! There may be some light spoilers! (And potential trigger warnings throughout).

“We are the authors of our own stories. Sure, we can’t always control the plot, but we can decide who we want to be.”

“Yeah, half the water bottles in the kitchen are being used as ashtrays so-“

“I think she’s trying to make a couple mistakes.”

“So, just walk me through the worst case. Worst case. Just… Paint a picture.”

“It’s tough to fucking hear, too, doc. Give it a try.”

“I promised (Name). I promised (Name) that I would take care of you.”

“To focus on living instead of fighting.”

“Do you believe in ghosts, newbie?”

“Myself, I’ve got my fingers crossed that I’ll be an entry-level poltergeist when we finally forget to fuck with people.”

“If she was a heretic, I’m going straight to hell.”

“They said that they could feel something following them, like a living shadow, but every time they turned around, gone.”

“To those before and those after. To us now and to those beyond. Seen or unseen, here or not here.”

“You’ll be surprised what grief can grow on.”

“There’s something else under it. Just… Give her some time. They’re actually wan okay to good person when they thaw.”

“They say dance, don’t miss a step. But it’s not possible when it’s so crowded.”

“I’d say it’s good to hear your voice, but I hear it all day long.”

“People fear death even more than pain.”

“It’s strange that they fear death. At the point of death, pain is over.”

“I don’t know. I’m mostly proud that they said ‘shitty’.”

“Mask off, angel. We’ve known each other too long for that.”

“Oh, damn, kid. Look what I did.”

“I’m sorry, guys. I’m realizing now that... Yeah, that totally went into angel porn towards the end, didn’t it?”

“I mean, I’ve tried some crazy stuff. Like really crazy stuff. Honestly, I tried just about anything, because I don’t want to die anymore than the rest of us do but-“

“What if she lured us here with our sickness just to bake us into pies?”

“I’m so fucking scared I’m going to die before I see my parents again.”

“Maybe that’s what angels are, really. Maybe angels are just second chances.”

“How about you shut the fuck up and let me help you?”

“You deserve better than me. You really, really do.”

“Damn, man, I don’t know how you’re doing it, but you’re making me feel bad for a guy who killed a classroom full of people.”

“I don’t know what you guys want, but I must say no.”

“Death is getting familiar now. It… lives here. You feel that, right? It lives… here.”

“Hey, beautiful. It’s a jailbreak.”

“This is all I know of love, and I give it to you, (Name).”

“But instead of feeling saved, I felt chewed up and spit out, like it had eaten parts of me.”

“There’s this voice in my head, you know, and it just keeps telling me, “You’re broken, you’re broken, you’re broken” over and over.”

“And, yeah, I walked away, but all I wanted was for you to come find me.”

“That I don’t have to hate myself because I’m here, and they’re not!”

“We were wasting time trying to change something that couldn’t be changed.”

“I’m… I’m sorry for you… I’m just sorry.”

“Just seeing how long it takes the water to make me numb.”

“A lot of lost souls at rest stops. Angels and devils and the whole fucking lot.”

“I thought I wanted to die. But I survived, and I realized how much I wanted to live.”

“However you feel is correct. However your feelings, whatever it is, is right.”

“Me either. And I’d totally lie about it if I thought it was funny, but it’s not funny.”

“Do you understand the kind of toll you take on them? How hard it is for them to put on a show for you every fucking time?”

“We love you. And we love the world with you in it. So stick around for as long as you fucking can, got it?”

“If you even think of giving Jesus the credit, I will haunt you twice as scary because I’m definitely going to haunt you after the nonsense. You got it coming.”

“Add time to anything at all, and you change. A little… or a lot.”

“And, um, (Name). You go make that future something good, okay? For us.”

“I think their ideas of sick and well are backwards. And I think you knew that. Better than anyone.”

“Let me look at you, one really good look, please.”

“‘Love doesn’t die, people do.’”

“Please, I don’t want to hurt you. Just kill you.”

“There you go. That’s it. That’s the ending, you may all go die now.”

“I’ll be dancing with the fireflies.”

“I don’t know if it’s possible not to hurt the people you care about. Doesn’t mean you have to be alone.”

“You did what you did out of hope.”

“But I’ve been thinking dying is a real shitty reason not to live.”

[theangrycomet-art]

Security Breach: Monty Gator Route Into

Go into the exhibit they said. It’ll be fun they said. Lies is what they said.

Naomi is NOT trusting her idiot friends any time soon. Nearly getting crushed by a diva gator mid-temper tantrum didn’t help. In Monty’s defense, no one’s supposed to be in his room this close to closing. By the time they’d stop demanding answers out of the other, the Pizzaplex was closed.

Notes below:

Naomi

Reckless- that’s how she got into this mess after all.

most adults think she’s rude when she’s just blunt

despite the rather horrendous night she’s been having, she’s optimistic, taking each hour as a win.

found her putter in the Gator golf and has yet to part with it. Considering her only other weapon’s a camera, she thinks this is within reason.

Trusting but not naive. (She’s pretty sure Monty knows more about the Bonnie guy than he let’s on, but that’s not her biggest problem)

Questions just about everything in the Pizzaplex- particularly the staff bots and why they are so freakin’ creepy

“Did you just try and curb stomp me?!”

“And you said I couldn’t do it.”

“Man, how cheap are these machines if a lame refrigerator magnet can mess ‘em up.”

“I think I liked her look better before I wrecked her face...”

“Yes, I was talking about the water fountain. Not the dancing rabbit lady who looks a lab experiment gone sideways.”

“Jesus Monty! I meant now was our time to make an escape not murder the mop bots!”

“Oh, a creepy clown to babysit children. THAT’S a great idea that won’t totally backfire on me as soon as the lights go out.”

“I DIDN’T MEAN LITERALLY!”

Monty

The fun uncle that let’s you do the stupid sunts your parents won’t

to an extent

normally he attracts the troublemakers, so he’s actually pretty good at handling them, Naomi included 

while he’s used to handling kids, it’s weird to do it after hours. Plus- the kids tend to shuffle around between the other and he never really spends this much one-on-one time with them either.

he doesn’t want to get in trouble with security for “abducting” a kid, so he’s trying to avoid Vanessa

Plus, she’s been acting really shitty weird lately. Very sus.

So, he’s obligated to watch the kid and make sure she doesn’t get herself killed. It’s not like he wants to. (lies)

He only got the Birthday-Cake-Pinata storage upgrade after the major repairs he underwent after he was crushed by the ball pit the first time, and has yet to actually use it for- well anything.

He was 60% sure Naomi would be fine in there.

The phone he gave Naomi was totally NOT stolen from Lost and Found.

Tends to call her “Troublemaker” especially when he’s mock-griping about all the extra work she’s giving him.

[father-time-and-baby-new-year]

mine for the night

SYNOPSIS: You're at a party you're not supposed to be, talking to a boy your boyfriend doesn't tolerate. [Modernverse AU]

PAIRING: Eren x Reader [main pairing] & Armin x Reader [heavily referenced]

DEDICATED TO: sugawara-sweetheart for the decadence collab. truly an honor. i love her fics, and I'm excited to give back to a community i love dearly <3

TW: dub-con (reader isn't totally sober), drug use, nicotine, no condom, possessive behavior, manipulation, yandre!behavior, manhandling, vaping, cheating,

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

A/N: Phew, I really slipped this in on the due date. also since i am a very very small blog, please interact <3 like, comment and pls reblog :)

The first time your eyes meet, you feel like everything around you slows down. The beat of the song blasting from the speakers relax, and while it was some upbeat party tune you don't particularly care for, you could feel the sluggish drawl of the lines:

S h e / s a i d / i t ‘ s / h e r / f i r s t/ t i m e

He stands with his back leaning against the wall, holding an e-cig of some flavor. Tall, dark, and handsome was an understatement. He’s imposing in every sense of the word. Delicate, sharp features shape his face and long, dark hair pool around his shoulders. You couldn’t make out the color of his eyes clearly but they stare straight at you. Maybe straight through you like he had x-ray vision and could snuff out all your insecurities in under a minute.

He was the kind of attractive person that shouldn’t be allowed.

Strobe lights flash a violent red and half his frame seems to be enveloped in a merciless crimson, and you don’t know why, but your morbid imagination pictures the dizzying red as blood. You look down to your hands, the red light reflecting on your skin as well like you were dripping in that red too.

Hyperfocus clouds your brain. The rest of the party melts into one entity but the tall boy with bored eyes stands indifferent.

Jesus Christ. You need to get a hold of yourself. Whatever substance Sasha had given you probably took hold. You hadn’t even asked what it was this time, letting her drop a pink heart-shaped tablet into your open palm.

Sixth senses aren’t real, but you’ve always had an intuition of sorts. And there was something...decidedly off about the boy.

And when you least expect it, he winks. You abruptly turn your head. You have a boyfriend. Granted, that boyfriend was not with you at the moment.

Big parties are not Armin’s scene, and they used to not be yours either. He could never understand, but there was something dizzyingly satisfying about the atmosphere in crowded spaces with music blasting so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think, lights flashing, drugs coursing through your system, and warmth seeping into your bones.

So when Sasha and Hitch drag you to parties, you let them.

Paradoxically, you are not the most social person. It's at parties that you feel more alone than anything, even when you dance with strangers, but something about voluntarily choosing this loneliness made you welcome that abstraction with open arms.

Deciding you need to take a breath of fresh air, you find yourself heading towards the square pool, pleasantly surprised to find it deserted. The night air makes you shiver.

Carefully, you slip out of your slip-ons and dip your feet into the illuminated water, wiggling your toes. Guilt gnaws the back of your head as conversations with your boyfriend reverberate in your skull.

Don’t make me out to be the bad guy here. It’s not that I don’t want you going out-

But that's exactly it! You never let me go anywhere. Why do you have to sulk when I wanna do something?

You visualize his signs of exasperation, how he wrings his hands in the air in heated arguments.

Mindless partying isn’t doing something! Why can’t you just stay with me?

I don’t understand. You weren’t like this when we first got together.

The last line is spoken like an accusation, like an unbecoming threat bubbling under the surface.

Armin is studious and kind. Responsibility is his middle name. He’s also nervous and neurotic, easily anxious, and hates it if anyone points it out. Maybe that’s what drew you to him beyond his soft gold hair, and pretty face. He was parts of you, and you of him. He obeys a strict moral code because that’s how he keeps himself grounded and you tethered yourself on his feet planted firmly in the ground.

And to add to his long list of virtues, he’s paranoid to a fault and incapable of understanding boundaries. It’s only very recently that you were able to convince him to stop FaceTiming every hour whenever you guys were apart for an x distance for x hours.

It’s not safe for you.

What the hell is that supposed to mean? I can take care of myself.

You don’t understand. You don’t understand. You don’t understand. I, I can’t lose you too.

The blue of the chlorine-filled water reminds you of Armin’s frantic eyes, making you dig your nails into your palms out of frustration. You wanted to feel good. That’s why you were here. Not to feel guilt gnawing at the crevices of your mind.

Armin was under the very wrong impression that you were sleeping over at Pieck’s who aided in your deception. Girl code, of course.

Usually, he’d be even more smothering with incessant questioning, but wanting to smooth over the recent speedbumps, he didn’t create much fuss. You remember his smile tightening as he said his farewell with a kiss on your forehead and parting words: “Be safe. Check-in with me, okay?”

You check your phone. The 8% next to your battery sign seems glaringly ominous especially placed next to the draining red bar.

5 texts from Armin Arlert

Armin: Hey babe, I know we talked an hour ago but I just wanted to know if my baby ate? I can always order a pizza for you guys. Or anything you want. [10:06]

Armin: Nvm. I’ll assume you guys already ate. Lmk if you need anything. [10:45]

Armin: I know you don’t like being on your phone when you’re around other people. I’m sorry. I need to respect that. [11:02]

Armin attached a picture

Armin: Pochita and I say goodnight. Love you.<3 [11:29]

You glance at the picture. It’s cute. It’s a selfie with your newest stuffed animal, a strange red dog with a chainsaw sticking out from his head. He’s safely nestled in Armin’s arms.

The picture is so cute, the uncomfortable feelings that lay dormant in the pit of your stomach came rising back. The texts are cute too, not panic-stricken as you thought they would be. Maybe you were a bad girlfriend for assuming such things about him...

You haphazardly send a goodnight back, debating internally on whether you add an “I love you.” In the end, you settle for an emoji: the pink heart with an arrow through it. Carries the same sentiment, right?

Childishly, you splash at the water with your feet, watching bubbles erupt.

“You having fun there?”

A low smooth voice breaks you out of your reverie. You look up to face the boy you had been gawking at earlier.

Up closer, you have the opportunity to see him better. Well, at least now your earlier question was answered. His eyes were a melancholy green, viridian under dim lights.

“You’re staring at me again.” Amusement danced in his voice while embarrassment colors your cheeks.

“I-sorry.” You say lamely.

“It’s okay,” Effortlessly, he blows out O-shaped rings, “I don’t mind when pretty girls look at me.”

Your senses are momentarily blinded by the overpowering smell of cotton candy wafting in the air. You don’t register the compliment until he looks at you expectantly, corners of his slim lips pulled upwards.

“I have a-”

He doesn’t let you finish, “A boyfriend I know.”

Your eyes narrow in suspicion, “How could you know? And don’t say something flirty.”

His eyes widen at your sudden change of attitude, but his lips curl into a smirk, “Feisty.”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Well, of course, I’d know who my best friend is dating. Wouldn’t be a very good friend otherwise.”

You process this information, taking note of the mocking tone accompanying friendly words.

“Best friend?” You voice out slowly. Armin’s best friend was Mikasa, and maybe Jean. You knew who they were. Maybe the dark-haired kid is mistaking you for someone else.

The handsome boy clicks his tongue like he’s upset you didn’t catch on already, impatience evident in the crease of his brows, “Armin Arlert. Knew him since we were practically babies in diapers. Though,” he smirked, “I suppose it makes sense he doesn’t talk much about me.”

You pause, letting your mind replay bits and pieces of hushed conversations you had overheard between Armin and Mikasa. How when you asked about what (who?) they were talking about, they simply smiled and changed the topic.

“Are you...Eren?”

You’re so cute, Eren thinks. Your question drips with hesitation, but he can see something shining in your eyes, how you unconsciously leaned towards him. You were curious. Curiosity is good, a hallmark of freedom.

His face breaks into a wide grin, “That I am. Eren Yeager, at your service.”

If you were thinking straight, this is what you should have realized:

Armin doesn’t talk about Eren for a reason.

But of course, against your better judgment, you do so anyway. It shouldn’t matter how soft his loose hair looks, and how he adjusts downwards to fold the cuff of his pants so he could settle beside you, knees knocking into yours as feet touch the water.

When he hands you the skinny little e-cig, you should have denied it. But instead, you accept, anticipating the headrush of nicotine. There is something strangely intimate about sharing a cancer stick, placing your lips at the opening where his just were.

The headrush hits harder than you expect, almost making you reel back and Eren’s hands steady you--well that was the intention anyway, his arms lingering on yours, and your body greets welcomes his warmth.

He chuckles, “Yeah, I should have warned you. The concentration is heavy in this one.”

“Mhm” You nod before taking a second hit which makes Eren laugh even harder. He playfully grabs the device from your hands, “Feen.”

You pout and he thinks it’s the cutest thing ever.

“Does Armin know you smoke?”

The question knocks you out of your trance, the bare mention of his name dousing you with cold water. You play with the ends of your skirt, “That’s none of your business.” You say sourly.

“So he doesn’t.” He guesses. His thighs feel warm against yours, “Didn’t expect his girlfriend to be such a bad girl.”

Maybe it was the drugs in your system but he was so magnetic, and your face couldn’t help but heat up at the teasing lilt. You grumble a “Shut up” and when he hands his e-cig back to you, there’s absolutely no reason for him to intertwine your fingers like this.

You blurt out the question before you mean to, “How come you’re not friends with Armin anymore? I mean I don’t know much...but you guys have known each other for a really long time right. Longer than Mikasa even.”

He closes his eyes before opening them again, viridian eyes shining as if he was expecting this question, “I introduced them.”

“I still consider us best friends, you know.” He pauses, “Even if he doesn’t feel that way, he’s my closest friend.”

There is a vulnerability laced in his answer that makes you contemplate. You push on, “But something must have happened for him to not even talk about you anymore. Won’t you tell me what happened?”

He wonders if you’re doing this intentionally, the puppy eyes and parted lips.

“Hm, you mean maybe I did something worse than come to a party without my boyfriend’s permission and hang out with his ex-best friend who he hates for mysterious reasons.”

Huffing, you jerk away, creating some distance. Eren frowns, and grabs your wrist, “Hey, I was just kidding. No Need to move away from me like that.”

Not wanting to look at his searing eyes, you focus on the drawstring of his black hoodie.

“No you weren’t.” You swallow thickly, “How did you know I was here without...him knowing?”

You don’t use the word permission. It feels archaic and strange like the blond has some ownership over you.

Eren’s slim hand cusps your jaw, tilting your eyes to face his. There is only a short distance between you two. You’re quite pretty, and he muses on whether you realize how your breathing is different, and how dilated your pupils are, the black of your eyes almost swallowing all color save for the vivid outer ring.

“I know Armin.” He punctuates his words softly, “He’s the type to keep his pets on a short leash.”

The foreboding sense of danger returns. By the poolside, Eren was all chuckles and grins, and teasing flattery but right now in this very moment, when you try to move away, but his fingers are embedded on the underside of your jaw, grip tightening--you can’t help but think of the boy bathed in eerie red light.

“T-that’s not true.” You stammer, “Let me go”. You hadn’t even noticed how his other arm had enveloped your mid-section, tightening around your waist, your position a mockery of an embrace.

Without warning, he exhales out a thick cloud of smoke. He's squeezing the center of your cheeks to hollow them out, forcing you to breathe through your nose, unwittingly inhaling his cloud of vapor.

His Cheshire cat grin is equal parts unnerving and handsome, “Look, we’re shot-gunning.”

You don’t want to admit it but you still feel immensely captivated. He removes his fingers from your jaw, and a pulsing thrill shoots through him, realizing you’d have finger-shaped bruises decorating the underside of your jaw. Where else could he bruise you?

His now free arm joins the one wrapped around your midsection, pulling you so closely, you were almost sitting on his lap.

You don’t make much of a move to stop him, letting him manhandle you as he pleases. His warmth is intoxicating, and you were just so cold before.

“It’s okay.” He breaths out, “I know how controlling he can be. Poor girl, he’s probably never let you out of his sight, has he?”

He softly tugs on a lock of your hair, tying it around his fingers, “Although if you were mine, I don’t think I’d let you go either.”

The heart-shaped tablet makes every touch feel electric, but you have enough reason to recognize right from wrong. Your voice is dry as you speak, “I don’t think we-”

“Should be doing this.” He finishes for you, yet again. His voice is soft as he mummers, “It’s okay angel. I’ll make you feel good.”

“N-no.” You whimper.

Abruptly, he detangles himself from you and stands up. You stay rooted to your spot. You’re so stupid and dumb. This was your chance to run and run far far away. Maybe run to the comforting but rapacious arms of your boyfriend. Maybe run home to where you can be truly alone.

Why weren’t you moving? Did you want him to be the bad guy? Force you a bit? Shame settles in the pits of your stomach, but your resolve finally strengthens. You try to get up on shaking legs, but you’re so distracted by your thoughts, you don’t anticipate the hard shove into the pool.

SPLASH!

You’re drenched, and gasping from shock. If you were more grounded and a little less air-headed, you would have noticed how Eren stripped off his hoodie, and shirt.

You’ve fallen on the deep end, so you can’t quite grasp the stairs, and the fabric of your shirt bellows around you. You try to get up, but as quick as silver, Eren plunges into the pool himself.

He encircles his arms around you, and the curtain of dark hair falling around his shoulder blades makes him look like a diety. His physique is extraordinary, toned, and muscled like Michaelangelo himself had specially carved his taut abs.

You’re not sputtering anymore, thanks to him holding you up.

“W-why d-did you…” You speak through chattering teeth.

His apology isn’t very convincing, a small smile on his lips, “The pool looked so inviting, I wanted to take you on a swim.”

In the light of the illuminated pool, Eren’s eyes take on a different quality, darkened by carnal desire. How could he not notice how your shirt clings to you like a second skin, translucent fabric exposing the shape of your perky breasts. You’re not wearing a bra and your nipples strain against the fabric, and all he wants to do is roll them between his fingers. And pinch, squeeze, prod, and tease.

Your lips are pillowy and smooth, and he’s convinced you’re a nymph sent from mount Olympus to tempt him, to torment him.

“Eren…”

It should be sinful how sweet his name sounds from your mouth. He had plunged you into a pool without your consent, and you’re staring up with wide eyes like you’re the one concerned.

He wonders if this is the sight Armin sees. Jealous thoughts run a rampage in his head, and he treats your lips like the antidote, kissing softly at first. And maybe you are equally terrible because you don’t pull back, letting him run his tongue against yours and melting into his mouth until before long, the kiss turns aggressive.

His lips run amok uncharted territory, from the expanse of your smooth neck, the dip below your breasts, and wherever fingers and teeth could reach. One calloused hand gropes your breasts, while the other fervently touches everywhere but your heat.

He’s not touching you where you’re the wettest, and it’s definitely not because of the water.

“Eren” you whimper “Please.”

He smiles, “What are you asking for?”

“I” the words won’t come out smoothly, dirty talk foreign on your tongue, “Please, touch me there.”

He intertwines your hands in his with the care of a lover, “What would Armin think?” Said gently, but the cruelty is unparalleled.

The truth is, you can’t think about Armin right now. You feel like heaven and hell, and couldn’t tell what drug was more potent, the tablet or Eren.

“Why do you keep bringing him up?”

The dark-haired boy looks at you, looks through you. Your hands are still clasped and in a smooth, fluid motion, breaks the surface tension and takes you underwater.

It’s a pool, not an ocean but the depths still feel like it’s endless. Everything feels like slow-motion again. You’re suspended mid-air, and so is he watching the halo of your hair fan around your delicate head.

Like partners slow dancing, your bodies reconcile, and he kisses you like he has everything and nothing to prove. Sound is muffled underwater and you wonder if he can hear your heartbeat like an incessant drum.

You’re at his mercy, you realize when he brings you up to the surface again, and you take greedy gulps of air. He pushes and pulls at your body however he wants like he's a puppeteer and you're his prized marionette. It’s not long before his mouth finds its way to yours again, almost as if this boy was hellbent on depriving you of oxygen. Depriving you of your ability to breathe.

He leads you to the edge of the pool where he can angle your body against the border. At first, your back is flushed against his chest where he can ride his hard cock against the back of your plush thighs. His hands knead into your perfect ass. You let him grope you as he pleases.

However, you’re granted respite when you feel him touching your slit through your underwear, teasing until he sinks his fingers in, manhandling your body to face him.

“Just goes right in.” He laughs, and it’s a musical sound.

Your moans are soft echoes, and in between, he presses words against the skin of your neck.

“I’ve always noticed you, you know.” His voice is so melodic, you nearly tune out the words themselves, treating his speech like lyrics to an unpublished song.

“Huh” You mummer.

“Wanted to get you alone like this...he’d never let me have you.”

Where Armin’s eyes are frantic, Eren’s are manic. Viridian green shines like emeralds when there’s enough intensity.

“Wh-what are you talking about?” Your words are garbled, half-drunk on the pleasure of his fingers moving in between your syrupy walls, hitting that right spot over and over again as a finger massages your clit.

Why are boys honest when their dicks have never been harder?

He takes his fingers out, making you cry out in the loss. To amend himself he tucks himself out of his boxers, bony hips crammed between your legs. He thrusts at an agonizingly slow pace, hitting harder and deeper each time. You don’t have it in you to talk, all soft sighs and feverish pleas.

Bottoming out in a smooth thrust, Eren continues the conversation, “I-Ah, knew you’d be here today. At this party.”

The stretch hurt until it didn’t and you’re moaning your fragile heart out. When Armin fucks you, he likes to interlock his fingers in yours. Eren does the same.

“W-what are you talking about?”

The dark-haired boy doesn’t respond, too lost in the sensation of you milking his thick cock. He doesn’t say anymore, just continuing to fuck you at his pace and makes you come all over his cock. He doesn’t stop then. Here is he not like Armin. Your blond boyfriend considers sex a success if he gets you off.

Eren needs to get himself off. You realize this when his hands’ grip on your hips are tighter, and he’s rougher. That slow-stroke fucking was for your benefit, and right now he’s thrusting so fast, your moans die in your throat. Your back hurts from constantly being shoved up and down the border of the pool.

He cums finally, relishing in the exquisite heat of your core.

“You c-came inside.” Shock is an understatement for how you feel.

Mirth danced in his eyes, “What, Armin never came inside before?”

Your fists are clenched, “Why do you keep bringing him up?” You hope you don’t sound as disarrayed as you feel.

The dark-haired boy swipes his finger on your bottom lip, “You’re mine, you know that? You’re mine now.”

You’re speechless and don’t make a move as he envelops his body into yours, wrapping you in a hug.

“It’s his fault for not keeping such a close eye on his toys.” He winks, “Finders keepers.”

.

Unbeknownst to you, your phone at the edge of the pool where you left it, lights up with notifications.

Armin: Did you think you could lie to me? Sorry babe, I never took the tracker off. I’m coming to pick you up now. You don’t have enough time to run away. I’m almost here.

[myaimistrue]

very much inspired by this post by @grocerystoredean and this art by @thatisahotsoup and the general fanon concept and inherent homoeroticism of benny shaving dean.

you can also read this on ao3!

“Shit.”

Benny glances over at Dean. He’s bent low over the small creek they found in this corner of the woods, trying to shave in his wavering reflection and failing miserably, if the trickle of blood running down his cheek is anything to go by.

“Need some help there?” Benny drawls. Dean whips his head around, looking embarrassed and pissed all at once. It’s an expression Benny’s drawn out of the man quite a bit in the short time they’ve been traveling together, and it’s one that Benny is finding himself purposely trying to create in Dean. There’s something about the way he reacts that makes Benny feel a little reckless, a little on edge, and all he knows is that he wants to keep doing it.

“I’m fine.” Dean wipes a thumb across his cheek, smearing blood. Wide-open hunger suffuses Benny from head to toe; he wonders if Dean is able to tell. “It’s a pain in the ass shaving like this.”

“Then don’t shave.”

“I always shave,” Dean bites back. He looks to the creek again and wipes another hand across his face. There’s blood all over him, all over both of them, but this is fresh—this is Dean’s, running red and hot. “I don’t eat here and I don’t sleep here, so I’m gonna fucking shave. Got it?”

Benny thinks that maybe he was trying to be intimidating, but it comes out kind of sad, kind of lost. Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, he wonders what the hell is really going on in this guy’s head. 

Dean ducks down and splashes water on his face until most of the fresh blood is gone, and the small nick of his chin isn’t bleeding anymore—Benny tries to ignore his disappointment at that. Then, Dean looks at the knife despairingly, and lifts it again to finish the job.

Benny’s over there before he can stop himself, batting Dean’s hand away and wrenching the knife from his grip. Dean looks at him again in that fascinating blend of irritation and embarrassment—interestingly, he doesn’t try to grab the knife back. Benny wonders about that, the trust it already implies. “What the hell?”

“Just let me before you decapitate yourself,” Benny mutters. He looks at Dean’s face, the stubble and the dried blood and dirt that didn’t wash away. Their eyes lock together. Benny can’t believe he’s never noticed how green they are. “It’s easier if somebody does it for you.”

Dean hesitates, and Benny tries not to look at the cut on his chin, the small red line already trying to clot and scab over.

“Alright, fine,” Dean finally grumbles. He won’t look Benny in the eye. “Just make it quick.”

Benny grins, a sharp, wicked thing. “Alright.”

Dean flushes a little, but he steps forward and tilts his head up, baring his face and neck. Something drops out in Benny’s stomach looking at the expanse of skin. He lifts his hand and touches Dean’s jaw more carefully than he was planning, angling it to the left and right. Dean lets himself be moved. Benny can feel his pulse pounding underneath his fingertips.

“C’mon,” Dean says quietly. Benny doesn’t recognize the tone of his voice, how soft it is. “Do it if you’re gonna do it.”

Benny nods, and pulls himself from this suspended moment by the creek, focuses on the job at hand. It’s strange to shave somebody else, especially when he’s only got a knife to do it, but the principle is mostly the same. He goes slowly, carefully, and takes his time. Benny isn’t sure what he expected when he offered to do this—he thinks he probably wanted something out of it, some kind of gratification from being this close to Dean and the cut on his face. Benny wants to touch more and more every day; he wants to tear into him, if Dean would let him.

But what they’re doing now, Benny tilting Dean’s head this way and that, moving the knife gently across his face—that’s more of a slow-dance than a quick and dirty fuck. Benny isn’t really sure what to make of it. He thinks Dean probably isn’t either.

“You might get razor burn,” Benny says, mostly to try and break this strange spell they both seem to be under. “Sorry.”

Dean scoffs. “I’m covered in monster gunk 24/7. You really think I’m worried about razor burn?”

“Just thought I’d warn you.” Benny moves the knife lower to work on the scruff at the top of Dean’s neck, dragging the blunt edge along the skin just to fuck with him a little. Dean shivers involuntarily at the feeling, and Benny raises an eyebrow.

“I’m fine,” Dean snaps. It falls completely flat. “Don’t cut me and it’ll stay that way.”

“Should you be mouthing off like that when I’ve got a knife to your throat?” Benny drawls. For a brief moment, he wonders if he’s gone too far, if this is going to wrench the whole moment around on its side and Dean’s going to take it as the kind of threat that would cause him to pull away and try to get his knife back. But then Dean shifts, and suddenly he’s standing much closer. Benny chances a glance, and Dean’s eyes are blown wide, pupils black oceans in his eyes. Benny relaxes into it—this is something he understands.

“That’s right,” Benny says softly. He traces a path from Dean’s eyes to where his neck is bared, thinks of putting his teeth right there. He wants to know how Dean would taste. “Just stay still and let me work.”

“Yeah,” Dean says. His voice is strained. “Yeah, okay.”

Benny makes quick work of what’s left to be done. Dean does as he’s told, stands unwaveringly still while his heart beats like he’s on the run, and Benny tries desperately to focus. There’s been an undercurrent with the two of them since they met, but Jesus, it’s never been like this. Benny figured they were heading toward something quick and rough and maybe a little mean. The desire for that isn’t gone, but it’s been swallowed by a new one, a desire to be as close to Dean as he can get, a desire to be gentle with this man until he comes completely apart. To hold the knife to him but never cut.

Benny doesn’t know what to do with that.

“There,” Benny finally says. He lowers the knife, but leaves a hand on Dean’s neck just because he can. “Done.”

Dean takes a shuddering breath, like he’s collecting himself, and then takes the knife from Benny. He turns away, ostensibly to wipe it off on his jacket, but his face has gone bright red. He clears his throat and says, “Thanks, man.”

Benny grins. He can’t help himself. Apparently, he never can with Dean—he’s got a feeling that’s gonna come back to bite him in the ass one of these days. “Sure thing, cher.”

“Yeah, well.” Dean looks at the creek for a moment, the water trickling by. And then he looks back to Benny with a grin of his own, teeth glinting in the sunlight. “I’ll probably need some help again later.”

Benny actually laughs, taken aback by this sudden brazenness from Dean yet completely and totally delighted by it. “Lucky for you, I’ll be around.”

“Yeah.” Dean’s grin softens into a smile, and all at once, Benny thinks, oh, I’m fucked. “Yeah, lucky for me.”