#actor man posting hours

[teencopandthesourwolf]

THE OH HOECH-O-METER

too many buttons undone? CHECK ✓

ethereal looking eyes? CHECK ✓

heavy stubble/beard-lite? CHECK ✓

cute af bear ears? CHECK ✓

sexy prominent adam's apple? CHECK ✓

adorable bunny teeth? CHECK ✓

overall hotness levels above av— *thud*

[djotime-allthetime]

Freaky Redheads

synopsis: interactions between you and fred hechinger at a red carpet event for gladiator ii.

wc: 2.5k+

rpf!!! don't like, don't read!!!

a/n: i love that soft, sweet, adorable man with all of my heart. my inspiration is how fred talks about sherry. the monkey. i'm down bad bro.

italics are supposed to be comments under tiktok clips of these interviews. i definitely have more in mind for these two, but we'll see how this goes. feedback is writer's fuel!

cross posted on AO3

next part>>

The flashing cameras and yelling reporters have started to become the new normal, which was so not normal for you. You couldn't believe how far you'd come.

Granted, your role in the movie was definitely more in the supporting cast territory, but you couldn't deny how massive the production was. But even as a supporting actress, you still had quite a bit of screen time as the unnamed favorite concubine to Emperor Caracalla.

The fans who knew you called out your name from behind the velvet ropes and you smiled and waved as you walked by.

"y/n! y/n! Over here!" A reporter called out. You nodded and smiled as you approached, indicating your acceptance of the carpet-side interview. Your agent had warned you that not every journalist might want to speak with you and that you should accept any interview you came by. Thankfully, as the start of your night would show, that wasn't the case.

"Hello!" You beamed, coming to a stop in front of the camera. The reporter greeted you back and handed you a microphone glued to a mini Romanesque column. "Oh, wow. I love the microphone!"

"Thank you," She smiled. With a quick glance at her blouse, you saw a name tag that said 'MTV UK: Claire'. "It was my idea, actually."

"Incredibly creative! They should give you a raise, Claire."

"If you wouldn't mind saying that directly into the camera..." Claire trailed off with a chuckle and a mischievous glint to her eye.

You shot the camera as serious a look as you could muster. "MTV, if you do not give this woman a raise, I will riot in the streets."

"Alright alright, enough of that." Claire laughed out loud with a few shakes of her head. "You look absolutely stunning!"

"Oh, this old thing?" You smiled bashfully, grabbing at your skirt to twirl it around. The styling department had made sure that all the gowns worn during press had some Roman inspiration behind them. The piece you were wearing was off white in color, representing your character's position in society. Even with your character in mind, your dress was still breathtaking. The gown was composed of yards and yards of fabric, giving it this dreamy, flowy silhouette. The neckline was so beautiful, in the cowl style and draped ever so slightly off your shoulders. To say that you loved it would be an understatement. "Thank you very much, you look amazing yourself."

"But you are on a different level!" Claire gasped, no doubt to return the topic to you. Just like you were media trained, the reporters were too. "What was the thought process behind your look tonight?"

Your eyes lit up as this was something you had wanted to talk about. "Well, the styling department and I actually workshopped this look together. Of course we wanted it to be glamorous, this is the red carpet after all. But we also wanted to show the character through the outfits, you know?" She nodded along.

"Right, your character was quite impactful even with the few lines you had." Claire added, and you smiled in thanks.

"Yeah, thank you." You felt your face heat up at the compliment. "We wanted to still be true to her, under all the glitz and glamour. So that's why we went with the understated color, to not only show her position in society but also her demeanor throughout the film."

"But your jewellery is anything but understated." She laughed.

"Yeah, I couldn't help myself." You laughed with her.

"Give us a quick tour."

You were almost dripping in gold, from your head to your toes. "We've got the hair piece." You brought a hand up to show the gold pins connected with chains littering your up-do. "Earrings upon earrings, all hoops." You pulled a strand back to show off your right ear clearly. Some were clip on earrings as you didn't have quite enough piercings to get them all. "The necklaces, of course. Some bracelets, some rings. But I think this cuff on my upper arm is my favorite."

"And these are all borrowed pieces from different brands?"

"Most of them are, yes." You confirmed with a nod. "But some are from my private collection. And some I might steal." You joked, getting a laugh out of Claire.

"Well, you really knocked it out of the park." Claire smiled, a tone of finality in her voice that showed you the interview was coming to a close. "And before we let you go, we've got one question we're asking everyone tonight. I think we can all agree that the cast of this movie is full of beautiful men." You giggled, a bit surprised at the turn in topic. "But people on the internet have separated them into two categories."

"Oh, have they now?" You asked, unaware of what she was talking about.

"Yes, they have. Gen Z has divided them into the brooding brunets and the freaky redheads." She explained, pulling up two little hand held signs. One with Paul Mescal and Pedro Pascal, the brooding brunets, and the other with Joseph Quinn and Fred Hechinger, the freaky redheads.

You couldn't contain the surprised laugh that escaped you at the sight of their little printed faces. "Oh my goodness!"

"So, as the resident Gen Z-er on the cast, who is your pick?"

"Well, I wouldn't say I'm the only representation of Gen Z here." You mused as you grabbed both the signs from Claire. You lifted up the 'freaky redheads' sign and pointed to Fred. "My friend is right there with me in the Gen Z territory."

"Alright, as the representation of Gen Z women, which team is more your style?" Claire asked as you studied the signs. "People are saying they went into the movie for the brunets and came out converted to team redheads."

"That's actually really funny," You chuckled as you looked down at both signs. "This is hard." You mumbled. A small smirk found itself on your lips as you thought of Fred seeing this clip later. Someone no doubt showing it to him, as he wouldn't find it on his own. "I feel like- yeah." You nodded with determination. "I'm gonna have to go with Fred- I'm going with team freaky redheads." You nodded. "I think it would be treacherous otherwise."

"Good choice. You'd break Emperor Caracalla's heart."

"And then he'd have my head." You laughed, stepping back. "Thank you for your great questions."

"Thank you for your time." Claire waved as you walked away. "We're gonna have a tally going throughout the night, and we'll see who wins. Team brooding brunets, or team freaky redheads." You heard her say to the camera as you moved further down the carpet.

'She looks so pretty!!'

'i love the thought process behind the outfit, you can tell she really loved her character'

'the reporter asked y/n if she prefers lucius and acacius or geta and caracalla and this girl really said FRED 💀'

'i love seeing new faces in hollywood, give young new actors a chance!!' ↳ 'right?? im so sick of them recycling the same actors for every big budget movie'

'she mentioned fred, not caracalla, twice, unprompted. i see you, y/n. you're just like us.' ↳ 'have you seen his interviews? he's literally the cutest i cant blame her 🥺'

A few steps down, another reporter flagged you down. This time, the questions were more centered around the acting itself.

"And was it difficult? In a previous interview, you've said that your character's growth was significant, but she had almost no lines in the movie."

"Yeah, I think in the final cut she only has... three lines?" You winced, looking upwards as you tried to recall what was and wasn't cut. "Though I'm not sure."

"So there were scenes where she could've said more?"

"Oh yeah, for sure! There was a lot of experimentation with my character throughout filming. Ridley's a genius and he was kind enough to truly take in my suggestions. There were times where I felt like she would actually stay quiet during a scene, whereas other times I felt like she would speak up. But yeah," You breathed in and furrowed your brows in thought as you tried to focus your answer back to the original question. "It was definitely a challenge. I had to really work on my micro-expressions. Lots of research, lots of practice. And lots of trust, too. With a character like mine, I really relied on Fr- on my fellow actors in those scenes. So yeah, definitely challenging. But who doesn’t love a good challenge?"

"And did you take any inspiration from other people's work? Any source material that helped you out as you built your character?"

"Of course!" You smiled, a hint of humor in your tone as you thought of your response. "Yeah, I did. Actually, one of the biggest inspirations for my role, believe it or not, was Ferb. From 'Phineas and Ferb'."

"The- The children's show?" The interviewer questioned with a grin.

"Yeah, Ridley thought it was brilliant!" You laughed. "We watched compilations of Ferb scenes on youtube together. And I know that Fred- Fred Hechinger, who plays Emperor Caracalla-, he also brought up Sid Vicious with Ridley, as well as other sources like that. Sir Ridley Scott has great taste, there's no denying that."

'ferb as inspiration for a movie like this,,, gen z in the film industry really are the gift that keeps on giving'

'im just imagining y/n and ridley scott curled up on the couch watching phineas and ferb reruns. that man is 86 years old. this is brilliant.'

'bro didn't even have to say anything and y/n still brought up fred 💀'

'the gen z cast members making ridley scott watch cartoons is sending me'

'not her pretending she didn't mean to say fred when she talked about trust, we all heard you y/n'

Unbeknownst to you, Fred's interviews were going much like yours, only a few feet behind you on the carpet.

"You look amazing today!" Claire, the same reporter you spoke to, told Fred during his first interview on the carpet.

"Thank you, thank you." He replied bashfully as he tried to subtly look around for you, but he couldn't see you just yet. "Everyone looks so great, everyone."

She asked him a few questions and then came time for her ending segment.

"Alright, to close off, we've got a little game here."

"A game?" Fred smiled with raised brows. "I love games." He said softly, not realizing that the microphone would pick it up.

"Yes, a quick one. You just have to choose between team brooding brunets and team freaky redheads. We've asking everyone to join."

"Woah!" Fred exclaimed as he received the signs. "That's me." He pointed out his own face in the picture of him and Joseph. "What are we basing our choice on here?"

"Well, the internet is battling on who is more attractive."

"Oh my god." Fred chortled, not expecting that answer. "Who's played the game?" He asked, still examining the hand held signs.

"As of now, we've spoken to Joseph Quinn, Connie Nielsen, and y/n l/n." Claire recounted.

Fred's eyes lit up and his cheeks reddened at the mention of your name. "And what's the- what's the consensus so far?"

"It's two to one. Can you guess who's in the lead?" Claire asked.

"Let me think... Well, Joseph -my brother-, he definitely voted for us." He pondered aloud as he counted the votes off on his fingers. "Connie... I think Connie went for team brunets. I mean, it's her husband. She's gotta." He grinned when it came to you. "y/n chose me, right? We're in the lead?"

"Yeah, you're right on all counts! You really know your cast members." Claire laughed. "y/n didn't want to anger Emperor Caracalla."

"Oh, she couldn't. I’ve got too much of a soft spot for her." Fred shook his head emphatically.

"So, are you keeping team redheads in the lead? Or will you give us a tie?"

"No, I'm going team redheads!" Fred exclaimed. "I'm not helping out my competition, no way!"

'this man has bewitched me with his beautiful eyes and calming demeanor'

'he always calls joe his brother im CRYINGGG'

'did you see his face when they mention y/n, this man can't hide his crush for the life of him 🥺' ↳ 'neither can she lol'

'what do yall know about fred hechinger 🗣️🗣️🗣️'

'fred immediately knowing that y/n chose him, kill me right now.' ↳ 'mind you the choice was caracalla. she still said 'fred' and he said 'me'. can they be more obvious?'

'the way this man said 'i love games' protect him at all costs'

‘he said ‘i’ve got a soft spot for her’ is this the year of men yearning?’ ↳ ‘it’s just the paul mescal effect’

It was during his next interview that he saw you. He was talking about his experience building the character of Emperor Caracalla with Sir Ridley Scott as well as Joseph Quinn when he finally caught sight of you. You had spent a bit longer with a specific reporter down the carpet, causing Fred to catch up to you. 

“Of course, y/n was a great help as well.” He smiled, reaching over to brush against your elbow to catch your attention. At the perfect time, too, because you had just finished talking to the reporter in front of you.

“Oh, Fred!” You beamed, coming over to give him a hug. 

“Look at you.” Fred spoke against your shoulder. He pulled away from the hug and brought you into his side in front of the camera, almost like he was showing you off. “Look at her, isn’t she stunning.”

“Stop it,” you rolled your eyes as you tried your best not to show how his compliment affected you. “I’m sorry for interrupting, I just had to say hello.”

“No worries,” the reporter reassured you. “Fred was actually saying how you helped with the building of his character.”

“Yeah, we worked really closely during pre-production actually.” You nodded, acutely aware of Fred’s hands on you. He had one hand casually tucked into his pocket while his other arm draped across your waist, his hand resting against your hip. “My character was almost like Caracalla’s sidekick, so the motives for all her actions are really based around him.”

“I’d argue that she was more of a mirror, actually.” You turned to look at Fred, never passing up an opportunity to hear his view on these things. “She’s the complete opposite of Caracalla, but in a way she represents who he truly is under all the pressure of being in Geta’s shadow.”

“And under all the syphilis, of course.” You added, causing Fred to giggle.

“Yeah, and under the syphilis.”

‘he seems like such a sweet guy 🥺’

‘did you see his face when he saw her???  😫😫😫 theyre in love, your honor’

‘him showing her off like that is peak soft boyfriend behavior’

‘they just called me single in seven different languages’

‘his laugh is actually so cute, who is this man and why am i in love with him? 😍’ ↳ 'get in line' ↳'behind y/n, you mean?'

‘the way he’s touching her???? im just gonna go take a nap in front of an oncoming train’

‘im calling it, new hollywood it couple’

‘look at how he looks at her!!! may this love find me 🙏’

[kyouka-supremacy]

I fucked up

[fandomestuff]

I've seen many people shit on the live action atla ((as we should this is such a bad adaptation and honestly a mid show in itself)) but I haven't really seen people talk stuff about Sokka and Suki

And I want to point out a couple of things that I absolutely hated about what they did to them in live action.

1. The kiss

I hate that they made them kiss at the end of the episode. I hate it so much. Like yes, in the original they both clearly had feelings for each other (especially that later Suki talks about losing sb very important to her, who we know was Sokka), but they weren't rushed like that.

In the original they both grow so much between their meetings. Sokka finally gets together with a girl (not the first girl he meets that's his age, like Suki), kisses sb for the first time, travels the world, meets new people and in general matures.

We don't know much about what Suki is doing during that time, but we know she finally does sth that helps people during war, sth that she said was important to her. She can finally put her skills in leadership to greater use and she feels great about it. She also matures during that time and we know that she still thinks about Sokka and misses him.

Them kissing immediately makes their relationship so much more bland and just... flat.

2. If they make all three seasons, we will probably not get the most iconic line of the show...

Because now Sokka's first girlfriend is technically Suki...

3. The whole scene with Suki teaching Sokka

I cannot empathise enough how important Sokka's sexism is in their relationship. It's something that Suki fixes in him, something she manages to show him... by absolutely kicking his ass. In live action... the fight scene next to those melons was a joke not a fight scene if I can be honest. Idk if it's the writing or the choreography or the actors but it looks so fake and just so bad 💀 And she attacked him while he was still "stretching"??? Suki would never.

What is this 💀💀

But the most important scene, and the one I hate the most in live action, is the one where Suki teaches him a very sacred and traditional and important to Suki and to her culture way of fighting.

In the original, Suki highlights that no man should learn their art and only after Sokka begs Suki to teach him does she agree.

But not without a very important piece that was fully missing from live action which baffles me so much.

The entire armor, the dress and make up.

Not only is it incredibly important to upholding the traditions and keeping the cultural aspect important, but the beautiful, might I add, outfit gives us the depth of Kyoshi Warriors that is just missing from the live action.

"The silk thread symbolizes the brave blood that flows through our veins. The gold insignia represents the honor of the warrior's heart."

It's beautiful. It's meaningful for both of them. It's important. And it's also a way for Suki to mess with Sokka which we love and stan.

I ALSO DON'T UNDERSTAND WHY SUKI TOOK OFF HER MAKE UP FOR THE ALMOST KISS AND THE KISS. It's not like being a Kyoshi Warrior is sth that's bothering her. NO. She's incredibly proud of it!! So. why. take. an. important. part. of. it. away. for. some. stupid. kiss.

WHY NOT GO THE OPPOSITE DIRECTION?? Instead of her taking off her make up for the romantic scene why not just... put make up on Sokka... honestly what's more romantic than putting make up on your crush.

They could have made such a beautiful and intimate scene between these two.

Them sitting in front of each other. Suki putting on Sokka's make up, while either talking about herself or about how important this whole set up is for her and her culture. I wouldn't mind it then because it would give their relationship some depth instead of "omg he's so pretty" "omg she's so pretty." *kiss*

But no. Instead they kissed right next to a group of people (including Suki's mother which just makes is so much more weird) after Suki said sth about Sokka showing her a bit of the world.

And I hate it so much.

It takes away the part where Suki teaches Sokka something very important, something that changes his personality, helps with his arc to Sokka "showing her a bit of the world". How?? With what?? It's not like he took her away from the Island itself or introduced her to his culture. No. He just... showed up and kissed her.

Great writing.

And don't get me starter on the "I'm not just a warrior. I'm a Kyoshi Warrior" line. It's a good line. It really is. But it would be better if the producers actually focused on Suki being a Kyoshi Warrior and not just a girl that has a crush on Sokka.

And while it's compared to "I'm a warrior. But I'm a girl too"... gods I... ughhhhhhh

So yeah. I hated it. I hated the show. All I have to say is:

They ruined my favourite couple. They ruined many great characters. They completely missed the point of the original story.

[bromcommie]

what if we worked as ranch hands together for decades and then you got mauled by a bear because I was drunk on the job because of the recent harrowing death of my young son and then I spent the rest of my days as a recluse taking care of you and exclusively spending my time with you while you lived on my ranch and continuously bitched at me about this bear as a metaphor for both of us getting back to living our lives and dealing with our grief. what if I finally did it by forcibly co-adopting my estranged daughter-in-law and the granddaughter I didn’t know I had with you and therein ended up experiencing the joy of family and community again. AND my up-until-recently-secret granddaughter called us two gay old cowboys to our face. and then me and her tried stealing the bear from a local zoo/circus for you but accidentally set it free instead because wink wink it’s a metaphor wink wink. what then

[todayisafridaynight]

bro im not a majima fan im an ugaki fan 1000% he's a darling

[ekingston]

SO HERE IS THE WHOLE STORY (SO FAR).

I am on my knees begging you to reblog this post and to stop reblogging the original ones I sent out yesterday. This is the complete account with all the most recent info; the other one is just sending people down senselessly panicked avenues that no longer lead anywhere.

IN SHORT

Cliff Weitzman, CEO of Speechify and (aspiring?) voice actor, used AI to scrape thousands of popular, finished works off AO3 to list them on his own for-profit website and in his attached app. He did this without getting any kind of permission from the authors of said work or informing AO3. Obviously.

When fandom at large was made aware of his theft and started pushing back, Weitzman issued a non-apology on the original social media posts—using 

his dyslexia; 

his intent to implement a tip-system for the plagiarized authors; and 

a sudden willingness to take down the work of every author who saw my original social media posts and emailed him individually with a ‘valid’ claim,

as reasons we should allow him to continue monetizing fanwork for his own financial gain.

When we less-than-kindly refused, he took down his ‘apologies’ as well as his website (allegedly—it’s possible that our complaints to his web host, the deluge of emails he received or the unanticipated traffic brought it down, since there wasn’t any sort of official statement made about it), and when it came back up several hours later, all of the work formerly listed in the fan fiction category was no longer there. 

THE TAKEAWAYS

1. Cliff Weitzman (aka Ofek Weitzman) is a scumbag with no qualms about taking fanwork without permission, feeding it to AI and monetizing it for his own financial gain; 

2. Fandom can really get things done when it wants to, and 

3. Our fanworks appear to be hidden, but they’re NOT DELETED from Weitzman’s servers, and independently published, original works are still listed without the authors' permission. We need to hold this man responsible for his theft, keep an eye on both his current and future endeavors, and take action immediately when he crosses the line again. 

THE TIMELINE, THE DETAILS, THE SCREENSHOTS (behind the cut)

Sunday night, December 22nd 2024, I noticed an influx in visitors to my fic You & Me & Holiday Wine. When I searched the title online, hoping to find out where they came from, a new listing popped up (third one down, no less):

This listing is still up today, by the way, though now when you follow the link to word-stream, it just brings you to the main site. (Also, to be clear, this was not the cause for the influx of traffic to my fic; word-stream did not link back to the original work anywhere.)

I followed the link to word-stream, where to my horror Y&M&HW was listed in its entirety—though, beyond the first half of the first chapter, behind a paywall—along with a link promising to take me—through an app downloadable on the Apple Store—to an AI-narrated audiobook version. When I searched word-stream itself for my ao3 handle I found both of my multi-chapter fics were listed this way:

Because the tags on my fics (which included genres* and characters, but never the original IPs**) weren’t working, I put ‘Kara Danvers’ into the search bar and discovered that many more supercorp fics (Supergirl TV fandom, Kara Danvers/Lena Luthor pairing) were listed.

I went looking online for any mention of word-stream and AI plagiarism (the covers—as well as the ridiculously inflated number of reviews and ratings—made it immediately obvious that AI fuckery was involved), but found almost nothing: only one single Reddit post had been made, and it received (at that time) only a handful of upvotes and no advice. 

I decided to make a tumblr post to bring the supercorp fandom up to speed about the theft. I draw as well as write for fandom and I’ve only ever had to deal with art theft—which has a clear set of steps to take depending on where said art was reposted—and I was at a loss regarding where to start in this situation.

After my post went up I remembered Project Copy Knight, which is worth commending for the work they’ve done to get fic stolen from AO3 taken down from monetized AI 'audiobook’ YouTube accounts. I reached out to @echoekhi, asking if they’d heard of this site and whether they could advise me on how to get our works taken down.

While waiting for a reply I looked into Copy Knight’s methods and decided to contact OTW’s legal department:

And then I went to bed.

By morning, tumblr friends @makicarn and @fazedlight as well as a very helpful tumblr anon had seen my post and done some very productive sleuthing:

@echoekhi had also gotten back to me, advising me, as expected, to contact the OTW. So I decided to sit tight until I got a response from them.

That response came only an hour or so later: 

Which was 100% understandable, but still disappointing—I doubted a handful of individual takedown requests would accomplish much, and I wasn’t eager to share my given name and personal information with Cliff Weitzman himself, which is unavoidable if you want to file a DMCA.

I decided to take it to Reddit, hoping it would gain traction in the wider fanfic community, considering so many fandoms were affected. My Reddit posts (with the updates at the bottom as they were emerging) can be found here and here.

A helpful Reddit user posted a guide on how users could go about filing a DMCA against word-stream here (to wobbly-at-best results)

A different helpful Reddit user signed up to access insight into word-streams pricing. Comment is here.

Smells unbelievably scammy, right? In addition to those audacious prices—though in all fairness any amount of money would be audacious considering every work listed is accessible elsewhere for free—my dyscalculia is screaming silently at the sight of that completely unnecessary amount of intentionally obscured numbers.

Speaking of which! As soon as the post on r/AO3—and, as a result, my original tumblr post—began taking off properly, sometime around 1 pm, jumpscare! A notification that a tumblr account named @cliffweitzman had commented on my post, and I got a bit mad about the gist of his message :

Fortunately he caught plenty of flack in the comments from other users (truly you should check out the comment section, it is extremely gratifying and people are making tremendously good points), in response to which, of course, he first tried to both reiterate and renegotiate his point in a second, longer comment (which I didn’t screenshot in time so I’m sorry for the crappy notification email formatting):

which he then proceeded to also post to Reddit (this is another Reddit user’s screenshot, I didn’t see it at all, the notifications were moving too fast for me to follow by then)

... where he got a roughly equal amount of righteously furious replies. (Check downthread, they're still there, all the way at the bottom.)

After which Cliff went ahead & deleted his messages altogether. 

It’s not entirely clear whether his account was suspended by Reddit soon after or whether he deleted it himself, but considering his tumblr account is still intact, I assume it’s the former. He made a handful of sock puppet accounts to play around with for a while, both on Reddit and Tumblr, only one of which I have a screenshot of, but since they all say roughly the same thing, you’re not missing much:

And then word-stream started throwing a DNS error.

That lasted for a good number of hours, which was unfortunately right around the time that a lot of authors first heard about the situation and started asking me individually how to find out whether their work was stolen too. I do not have that information and I am unclear on the perimeters Weitzman set for his AI scraper, so this is all conjecture: it LOOKS like the fics that were lifted had three things in common:

They were completed works;

They had over several thousand kudos on AO3; and

They were written by authors who had actively posted or updated work over the past year.

If anyone knows more about these perimeters or has info that counters my observation, please let me know!

I finally thought to check/alert evil Twitter during this time, and found out that the news was doing the rounds there already. I made a quick thread summarizing everything that had happened just in case. You can find it here.

I went to Bluesky too, where fandom was doing all the heavy lifting for me already, so I just reskeeted, as you do, and carried on.

Sometime in the very early evening, word-stream went back up—but the fan fiction category was nowhere to be seen. Tentative joy and celebration!***

That’s when several users—the ones who had signed up for accounts to gain intel and had accessed their own fics that way—reported that their work could still be accessed through their history. Relevant Reddit post here.

Sooo—

We’re obviously not done. The fanwork that was stolen by Weitzman may be inaccessible through his website right now, but they aren’t actually gone. And the fact that Weitzman wasn’t willing to get rid of them altogether means he still has plans for them. 

This was my final edit on my Reddit post before turning off notifications, and it's pretty much where my head will be at for at least the foreseeable future:

Please feel free to add info in the comments, make your own posts, take whatever action you want to take to protect your work. I only beg you—seriously, I’m on my knees here—to not give up like I saw a handful of people express the urge to do. Keep sharing your creative work and remain vigilant and stay active to make sure we can continue to do so freely. Visit your favorite fics, and the ones you’ve kept in your ‘marked for later’ lists but never made time to read, and leave kudos, leave comments, support your fandom creatives, celebrate podficcers and support AO3. We created this place and it’s our responsibility to keep it alive and thriving for as long as we possibly can.

Also FUCK generative AI. It has NO place in fandom spaces.

THE 'SMALL' PRINT (some of it in all caps):

*Weitzman knew what he was doing and can NOT claim ignorance. One, it’s pretty basic kindergarten stuff that you don’t steal some other kid’s art project and present it as your own only to act surprised when they protest and then tell the victim that they should have told you sooner that they didn’t want their project stolen. And two, he was very careful never to list the IPs these fanworks were based on, so it’s clear he was at least familiar enough with the legalities to not get himself in hot water with corporate lawyers. Fucking over fans, though, he figured he could get away with that. 

**A note about the AI that Weitzman used to steal our work: it’s even greasier than it looks at first glance. It’s not just the method he used to lift works off AO3 and then regurgitate onto his own website and app. Looking beyond the untold horrors of his AI-generated cover ‘art’, in many cases these covers attempt to depict something from the fics in question that can’t be gleaned from their summaries alone. In addition, my fics (and I assume the others, as well) were listed with generated genres; tags that did not appear anywhere in or on my fic on AO3 and were sometimes scarily accurate and sometimes way off the mark. I remember You & Me & Holiday Wine had ‘found family’ (100% correct, but not tagged by me as such) and I believe The Shape of Soup was listed as, among others, ‘enemies to friends to lovers’ and ‘love triangle’ (both wildly inaccurate). Even worse, not all the fic listed (as authors on Reddit pointed out) came with their original summaries at all. Often the entire summary was AI-generated. All of these things make it very clear that it was an all-encompassing scrape—not only were our fics stolen, they were also fed word-for-word into the AI Weitzman used and then analyzed to suit Weitzman’s needs. This means our work was literally fed to this AI to basically do with whatever its other users want, including (one assumes) text generation. 

***Fan fiction appears to have been made (largely) inaccessible on word-stream at this time, but I’m hearing from several authors that their original, independently published work, which is listed at places like Kindle Unlimited, DOES still appear in word-stream’s search engine. This obviously hurts writers, especially independent ones, who depend on these works for income and, as a rule, don’t have a huge budget or a legal team with oceans of time to fight these battles for them. If you consider yourself an author in the broader sense, beyond merely existing online as a fandom author, beyond concerns that your own work is immediately at risk, DO NOT STOP MAKING NOISE ABOUT THIS.

PLEASE check my later versions of this post via my main page to make sure you have the latest version of this post before you reblog. All the information I’ve been able to gather is in my reblogs below, and it's frustrating to see the old version getting passed around, sending people on wild goose chases.

Thank you all so much!

[anastacialy]

hello! first, i wanna say you're totally right here. all the points you made are correct, and i agree with your additions, as i agreed with your original post. i wouldn't reblog something to simply disagree in the tags! the tags were there as an addition and a slight rebuttal to opinions that opposed yours. for instance, when a lot of the fandom said colin should have to beg for penelope's forgiveness for saying he'd never court her, i disagreed wholeheartedly, and thought his scene of making amends was lovely, and more than made up for his actions. i don't like the way a lot of this fandom treats colin, and i'm sorry to have seemed to be doing the same. i think some of my tags and tone were misinterpreted here though, so i just want to clarify. i'm not great at communicating, so do try to read this post with the best and most lighthearted intentions. there's a character limit within a tag limit, so i can't always add everything i want to in the tags, and when i try to keep in concise, well, things like these tend to happen. when i said "yes it would be fun" that was meant to be read as, "yeah, yeah, i know you guys [the people who like angst] would like if this happened." which isn't totally disparaging the angst-loving people, by the way, as many actors and writers have confirmed that the original cut (pre-reshoots) of the season was angst-ier! even colin's crying and soft-spoken-ness during the whistledown reveal was unplanned, though it works entirely for his character and the two of them as a couple. the way it was written, he was meant to yell! shout! get angry! so that was my way of acknowledging that, before the second half of my tags were outright saying you were correct. imagine those subsequent tags as me going, "yeah, what they said! good point, boss!" behind you. i referenced like three or four other posts that were probably not read by you prior to this response, which is fair, since i post a whole lot. (there are fifty-five pages of bridgerton content on my blog. lmfao.) i use my tags to talk to myself and my followers, as was their original use (i've been rotting on tumblr since long before they showed up in the notes of a post), so i don't always give all the context in the world. it's kinda funny, i thought my referring to other posts for clarity was over-doing it! apparently not. i don't expect anyone who doesn't follow me to care to read my tags, but i know they're now served directly to the op, so i can see why you'd read them and disagree.

the "bite back" comment was in reference to this post, where i was commenting on the rest of the fandom's reaction to the scene. (in fact, someone reblogged that post with tags i disagree with, that seemed to miss the point of my post, ironically enough.) everyone was freaking out that he said something 'so mean' and i responded by saying, 'ok yes, if we wanted all the drama and messiness that came with the show's other couples, she'd have said something mean back to him there.' i imagined the rest of the scene playing out the same, though, where she apologizes quickly after realizing being rude to him isn't the right move. i'm not saying it would be healthy, nor better, and certainly not more in character. it was just a reference to a joke post i wrote at five in the morning after bingeing the series, and a reply to other people saying she should just call everything off in anger, which i don't agree with. the second post i was referencing was this heartbreaking drabble (which i fully thought i'd reblogged but didn't, so that one's my bad for sure) that has penelope call of the wedding for colin's sake. as in, her understanding she hurt him, and saying, 'i love you so much, i don't want to entrap you in a marriage where you'll be unhappy.' which, i did specify in the tags, by the way. this is just the annulment offer, but set earlier in the show. one thing we may disagree on, though, is that you say: "So if she said 'fine, no entrapment then, we're done' that is, realistically speaking, the death of their relationship." i personally do not think that would be the end of it. especially if, as in that fic and my tags, she called it off so as to not entrap him, to say 'no, you deserve happiness, even if it isn't with me.' i do think he'd be upset by her calling the wedding off. my interpretation of these scenes is that he still wants to marry her. when asked by kate, "does whatever new information you've learned [about penelope] truly negate [your relationship with her]?" [season 3 episode 7 timestamp 30:10] he shakes his head, no. i know this is later on in the show, but it is a feeling i think runs as an undercurrent to the feelings he shows in the scene we're discussing. so when i say his entrapment line is him "holding onto the marriage with his fingernails" i mean it is both him expressing his hurt, and him using propriety and "i am a gentleman" to keep the wedding on. this post i also referenced in the tags covers a lot of my feelings on the matter, though there are some nuances in my view there as well that i didn't bother rambling in the tags for, that time. and this one, and my tags on it, though that one's pretty /silly. but you share the same sentiment just in different words: "Yes, he still wants to marry her, not out of obligation, but because they have history and he has feelings for her." it is not truly obligation that i am arguing here, merely the illusion of obligation in order to hurt her in the moment, to hide his genuine desire to still marry her, and to deal with his more complicated feelings on his own.

also, when i say i want to write a fic about something, i mean it would be interesting to explore as an alternative to what happens in the show, to see how different actions might play out. i never, ever, in a million years think that the actual show should have changed, by the way. i make that clear in this joke post that i'm by no means the best writer. i'm also still waiting on my ao3 invite, so you're safe from my bad, ooc fanfics... for now. i was also referencing a very common joke post using the "please please please" line. i promise i don't actually think he'd say that, nor would it actually go in the fic. it's just a running joke at this point!

you extrapolated a lot about how i view penelope from these tags and, again, i understand why you would, as these are the only words of mine you've read. that's why im providing the context of my blog and other posts i'm referring to. the "no empathy" penelope you described is not at all the way i view penelope! i love her too much for that. she would be an awful partner if she behaved that way. but since we can understand colin lashed out in hurt, we can understand penelope might too, in theory, or in an au. but i understand you simply thought i was seriously saying the show should change or that this was the One True Interpretation, when i was not. context is important. uuu. [this is a joking reference to "prospects are important" and the little noise colin makes after he says his next line after that one. season 3 episode 3 "forces of nature" timestamp 8:57])

this is a great post i also recently reblogged on the topic too! and this one, which i have no clue why i didn't reblog yet. i may have been on mobile when i read it, hah. but they are saying the same thing as you here, and i agree! she truly hurt him, and he was completely within his rights to make a hurtful comment in that moment. i never said otherwise, and i certainly never said she should say or even imply that she didn't love him! i think both of us are also replying to the general fandom in this way. i genuinely love that, in canon, penelope met him with empathy and care right away. it's what he deserves! anyway, to reiterate: i agree with you! i think there were some misinterpretations of my tags and for that i apologize. i'd say agree to disagree, but i think it's mostly agree to agree (on most things) and agree to disagree (on a few small details i interpret slightly different than you) lmao! i hope this clears things up a bit!!

I guess what I find most funny about the 'She should call off the wedding because of Colin's entrapement line!' crowd is like. . .y'all really don't get Penelope at all, do you?

She has loved this man for YEARS. She's loved him through his engagement to someone else, she's loved him through him saying he wouldn't court her, she's loved him through multiple countries, through her family mocking their closeness, through a potential marriage to a Lord. She loved him so much she couldn't even DENY having feelings for him to save what she thought was her only chance of getting married. Do you know how easy it would have been for her to go 'No, we're just friends, I don't like him like that, you're proposing to me and that's what matters'? She couldn't denounce her feelings for him even THEN. Even when she doesn't think he reciprocates them and she's made peace with a life with Debling and is expecting his proposal. Colin was *always* first in her heart, through all those hurdles.

Because Colin has been kind in a cruel world, and he's made her laugh, and he encourages her confidence and he's warm and he's gorgeous and he centers her and he values her and he listens and makes her feel desired and beautiful. He's a good man, and her love for him makes her feel good, she treasures it. Even in the books she says it feels good to love a good person, whether he loved her back or not. And now she knows that he does and you think one line that Colin says in obvious hurt after finding out she's been hiding a secret persona for him is enough to shake that love? She spent what? Half a decade looking out her window pining for him and now on the eve of getting to live a life with him as husband and wife, she's going to chuck that away because of one sentence? How lowly do you think of her? How *stupid* do you think she is? To throw away the love of her life over what? Her pride? This fandom's OOC Fanon Pen is a disservice to Penelope's actual character.

Her love for Colin is steadfast. It's made of tougher stuff than all that. It has survived everything that has been thrown at it. Distance, other people, Portia. And y'all really, truly believe that a singular statement will make her go 'Naw, I don't want it anymore!' PUHLEASE. Even when she offers him that annulment, you KNOW she knows it's not on the table.

Stop playing. OF COURSE she didn't call off the wedding. Of COURSE she chose to understand where he was coming from and went 'I didn't mean to trap you, Colin, I love you'. Of course she asks what the marriage will be and is comforted by the fact that he still wants to go through with it.

Penelope Featherington has loved Colin most of her life. It has been one of the few constants in her existence. He has been good to her in said existence, consistently. He's listened, he's cared, he's apologized to her, he's taken ownership of his actions, he's invited her to be more open, he's joked with her, he's supported her, he saw her when she was invisible. She. Loves. Him. And for good reason.

It's not going away because of one line. Or two. Or three. Come back next time when you actually understand her.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 10: The One About the Audibly Loud Lukola FanFic

I’ll address the elephant in the room. And, no, I’m not talking about Jake Dunn’s brown suit! Or, that he’s posing with a man. Or, that Tyler commented “Bellissimo!!!!” on Jake's post.

I don’t think a lot of people understood the connection I was making this morning about “Mis-Directed,” Gwilym Lee, and Jake.  So, now I feel the need to explain because I don’t want people running with a narrative that goes in the opposite direction of where I was taking it.

Sorry, JVN, you’re getting pushed to the side again. I promise, I’ll get to you one day.

Let’s go back two months…

On September 25, Nicola posted to her Instagram stories a link to Alex Babsky’s post, which was a picture of Nicola. She had her hair and make-up done but she was wearing one of her own dresses (the black dress she wore in Australia and Brazil). Babsky captioned his post “[pink bow] @nicolacoughlan in London today for…well, never mind what for actually [laughing emoji with hand over mouth] [winking emoji] [shushing emoji].” Nicola responded, “You’re amazing it was so gorgeous to see you xxx.”

Babksy’s caption sent the fandom into hysteria wondering what the hell Nicola was up to. It didn’t help that this was the same day Luke updated his Instagram bio and used “Xx” and it didn’t help that Nicola was wearing the black dress she allegedly wore on her beach walk in Brazil with Luke.

Do you want to know what I thought the photo of Nicola was from? I’m not going to lie – I thought it was pre-wedding makeup. Seriously, not kidding. It reminded me of my own wedding day. Formal hair and makeup and my own dress that was easy to take off without messing up the hair and makeup. I never said I wasn’t a little bit delulu.

On November 5, an author named Lucy Parker announced on her Instagram feed that she had a new Audible book called “Mis-Directed” being released in February 2025. The post came with pictures of Nicola wearing the black dress and the same hair and makeup as the September 25 post. Nicola (presumably) is reading the part of Hattie Murton, and Gwilym Lee (presumably) is reading the part of Anthony Rafe.

Oh, okay.

Turns out, I was wrong.

So, Nicola and Luke didn’t get married.

Fine.

I have always liked crows.

But, wait a minute – what the fuck is this Audible book about? A woman who stars in a romantic drama called “Leicester Square” (what the fuck?) which was adapted from a best-selling romance novel (what the fuck??). Then, in comes our antagonist, Anthony Rafe, who plays opposite of Hattie and, let me quote here, “But when very real chemistry sparks during their scripted love scenes, Hattie begins to think the industry’s legendarily heartless Bad Guy [Anthony] might just a have a pulse after all. And Anthony, for his part, is caught off-guard by the way his heart races when he’s around his aggravating onscreen lover. As reality starts to imitate art a little too close for comfort, the world’s most unlikely couple might just have more in common than they thought…” (what the fuck???).

Let’s start with Leicester Square. What the hell is Leicester Square? Oh, the name of the fake television show on which Hattie and Anthony star. Sure, Jan. Is it odd to anyone else that Leicester Square is the name of the location of where the London premiere of Bridgerton Season 3 took place? You know, the event that happened hours before Papsmear.

Then we have the make-believe show being adapted from a best-selling romance novel. Mmm hmm.

Let’s try and not make the connection between Luke and Anthony. Mmm hmm.

And, let’s add fuel to the fire and have two co-stars falling in love with each other.

Yeah, we get it. It’s a Lukola FanFic being read by none other than Nicola. I mean, the only way it could be any better is if Luke was reading the part of Anthony Rafe! But, no, that part is being read by Gwilym Lee (who is fantastic in everything he does, by the way).

Who is Gwilym Lee? Well, he’s an actor (my father calls him “Midsomer”). Ask Mr. Google about him. But, if you check out his Instagram feed, you will find that he knows Jake and has since, at least, 2022. Is it possible that Nicola met Gwilym through Jake? Yeah, it is.

Now, why do I find this situation intriguing? Specifically, why did I find the post from Jake this morning posing with Gwilym interesting (and a bit shady)? Let me explain.

The Jakholes took the “Mis-Directed” FanFic as shade towards the Lukolas. Yes, they went there because that FanFic does not (in the least) fit nicely into their Jakola narrative. I mean, if it wasn’t shade to the Lukolas, how weird the storyline must have been for Jake! The writing was audibly on the wall, in big red letters, but the Jakholes chose to spin it into something messier than my hair in the morning after sleeping on it wet.

What exactly is this theory? Well, per the Jakholes, Nicola hates the Lukola fandom so much that she sat and read (likely, for hours) this Lukola-coded FanFic just to spite us! I mean, Anthony is a bad boy in this story and “everyone loves to hate” him (don’t forget, Luke became the devil incarnate after Papsmear). And, Hattie is tired of the “brutal press, overly invested fans, and a cutthroat industry…[that] would give even Pollyanna an edge of cynicism.” The Jakholes believe this means Nicola is saying she’s really in love with Jake and she wants us all to know that by reading a Harlequin-style romance about a woman who falls in love with her costar! Oh, my God!! How could she?!

What in the actual fuck are the Jakholes drinking with this bullshit? I know, I know. I shouldn’t expect anything better from people who ship Jake with Nicola. In fact, if I was a Jakhole, I might buy into this conspiracy theory. But, I’m not a fucking Jakhole. And, guess what Jakholes? I don’t mind breaking the hearts of Lukolas by saying we’re probably never going to see sexy-hot Brazil pictures of Luke and Nicola, so I don’t mind telling Jakholes to put this theory back into Davy Jones’ locker and feed it to that bitch Kraken.

Let’s talk a bit further about the absurdity of this “Nicola is shading Lukola” subplot from Hell.

We will pretend Nicola hates Luke. She hates Lukola. She baits the Lukola fandom for shits and giggles.

What would this make Nicola?

It would make her a villain, for starters (and “villain” is me being extremely nice).

More importantly, it would make Nicola a PR nightmare.

Even if Nicola and Luke despised each other, do you believe Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land would allow Nicola to play games with the Lukola fandom? Talk about playing with fire!

The reality is the lines between Polin and Lukola are heavily blurred at this point. I hate to say it – and maybe a lot of you will view me as a complete asshole after I say this – but, if I learned Nicola was shading the Lukolas (therefore, in my opinion, trolling Luke), I would not be interested in Bridgerton Season 4. Or, Season 5. Or, any season after that. Or, in Nicola, for that matter. You’re welcome to have your own opinion about this but I would feel incredibly betrayed, and not just by Nicola. On top of that, for me, Polin has become Lukola. They’re so blurred, they don’t even resemble a line anymore. Maybe that’s a bad position to be in, but that’s where I’m at. Sorry, not sorry.

I’m not going to rehash the breadcrumbs left by Nicola that support Lukola – if you know, you know (or you can catch up by spending an afternoon on Tumblr). Even Luke, in his own way, leaves Lukola-coded crumbs. We also have damn convincing evidence that Netflix, Bridgerton, and Shonda Land support Lukola. I mean, even they’re blurring the lines with “Nicola and Luke’s Cutest Moments” and interestingly timed images of Polin. So, do you think they’re going to let Nicola fuck with that on a public forum?

That would be a cold, hard NO.

But, this Audible book – “Mis-Directed” – is loud and made louder because Nicola is reading it.

So, what is this Audible book? Shade? Or, Nicola being cutesy? I’m going to place my bets on the latter solely because, like I said, the Corporate Office is not going to let Nicola shade Lukola because it has a direct effect on Polin.

That’s not to say that the excitement of this Lukola-coded “Mis-Directed” FanFic wasn’t attacked by the Jakholes from all sides, and the wind – for the moment – was kicked out of it. That’s a different story for a different day.

But, what I found so intriguing about Jake’s post today is that, of all the people he could have included in his photo (because there’s obviously lots of people at this event), he chose Gwilym. And, this means people will look into Gwilym. People will realize that Gwilym is the other side of “Mis-Directed.” People will realize Jake and Gwilym are friends. People will realize that Jake’s friend is reading a Lukola-themed romance novel with Nicola.

And, if we agree that the book is not shade towards the Lukolas and we agree that Jakola is not real, what is the significance of the connection between Jake and Gwilym? Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe I’m overthinking it. But, the connection – at least in my mind (and it’s been there since November 5) – is that Jake supports “Mis-Directed” because he supports Lukola and he has always been there, helping Nicola lay the breadcrumbs. He wanted people to look into Gwilym and make the connection. Jake could very well be the one who suggested Gwilym read the part of Anthony. Jake is the degree of separation.

I want to close this out by noting that Jake also liked the post Nicola has pinned on her Instagram grid – the black and white one about her Time 100 article. You know, the one where Nicola says, “A lot of people really want me to marry Luke.” Follow the links and it will take you to this article. That’s an interestingly placed like by Jake, in my opinion – as is his photo op with Gwilym.

[thevelvetvampyre]

Caught red handed - Cillian Murphy x assistant reader

I want him to kick me in the face this gif is so hot im seizing

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x assistant reader

Summary: Sharing a joint hotel room with Cillian as his assistant and he catches you reading smut about him on tumblr, leading him to give you the real life experience

Warnings: Cillian’s a peeper, self pleasure, oral + fingering + p in v basically all of it, choking, spit + ending a little wholesome

——————————————

After 15 hours of traveling to New York for Cillian’s new film premiere, you were finally in bed scrolling through your phone getting ready to fall asleep. Besides the mixup downstairs at the front desk where the receptionist gave you a joint room with the man you worked for, the hotel room was beautiful. It had been a little awkward at first as the walls and wooden sliding door that separated you and the actor were thin, but you heard him quiet down and his room had gone silent so you assumed he had fallen asleep first. He laughed off the uncomfortable situation that you would be basically sharing a room and treated you to dinner and drinks in the downstairs restaurant, brushing it off as a ‘bonding moment’ between the pair of you. You had only worked for him as his assistant for a couple months, not really getting too personal with the man as he kept a comfortable distance away from you and remained highly professional during all your encounters and meetings.

it’s only one night. You thought to yourself. Only one night of torture.

The truth was, you had a raging crush on him. Not only was he talented and well admired, he was panties dropping, thigh trembling, pussy pulsatingly handsome. The fact he was so professional with you, even treating you like a daughter drove you insane. You wanted nothing more for him to rip your clothes off, abuse your skin with purple marks and fuck you till it hurt. So here you were, a thin build of plaster away from the man you worked for with your fingers slipping under the top of your underwear and caressing your warm skin.

Shamefully, you read smut on tumblr about the actor in your free time. It was the closest you could get to fucking him, feeling his cock twitch inside you or even feeling his lips on your slit. Of course you took advantage of it and of course if he ever found out you’d want to fall off the face of the earth to never been seen again. Feeling a knot build up in the bottom of your stomach after remembering the night you shared with him, the way he smelt and the way his eyes slightly grazed your thighs you shifted in anticipation on the bed wanting to relieve yourself of the pressure he had built up inside of you.

Feeling your pussy heat up and begin to soak through the cotton underwear you had on, your middle finger began to circle on your clit as knowing he was next door aroused you more than any piece of writing could. You found your favourite post in your likes and began to read as your fingers slowly teased the nub on your mound, fastening up your circles as you were beginning to feel desperate for your release. Although you were under the blanket, your torso was still visible and you placed your phone down to raise your shirt up under your chin. Freeing your tits and feeling the cold aircon hit your nipples, they hardened as you grabbed one in your hand and your head fell slightly back in pleasure to your grasp. Small breaths started to leave your mouth as your back began to arch, your fingers moving faster around your clit as it pulsated under your touch. Lowering your hand to your opening and slowly pressing a finger in, you gasped at the breach into your now soaked hole and pushed even further until your knuckle was attached to your slit. Beginning to slowly curl your finger to the spongy spot inside of you, your neck rolled as your other hand pulled and twisted at your exposed tit. Unknowingly in the midst of your pleasure, your mouth fell open and a whine had quietly escaped.

With the mixture of small squelching noises and whimpers, Cillian’s eyes shot open and he sat up on his elbows. He remained still to listen out for the noise in confusion as his brows furrowed and his jaw clenched.

Fecking neighbours.

He slapped his head back onto the pillow and huffed out in annoyance, his tiredness getting the best of him as his mind began to drift off once more.

“Fuck.” You whispered under your breath, feeling a heat build on your groin as your skin began to tingle in the cold air, a twitch shooting your head back even more. A sharp pressure began to fill the back of your cervix as your breathing became erratic and your arousal had spread onto the inside of your thighs. Leaving your boob, your hand snaked its way to your neck as you heavily pressed the sides of your neck and your eyes rolled to your head, feeling the lack of oxygen buzz in your ears.

Cillian sat up once more and tutted, cursing under his breath at the unknown noise and rubbing his eyes. He sighed heavily and properly sat up now, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and groaning with his head in his hands.

A louder whimper had fallen off your lips and your fingers quickened, your eyes squeezed shut as you fucked yourself soaking.

Cillian had stopped breathing, slowly raising his neck as his eyebrows furrowed once more and turned to the direction of the sliding wooden door.

Your back was arched, one hand gripping your throat till your knuckles turned white with your exposed tits in the freezing air. You had already added a second finger and began to pump yourself desperately, small cries falling from your lips as your skin heat up and a familiar pressure began to build in your groin.

Standing up from the side of the bed, Cillian quietly and carefully walked towards the door that separated you, placing his ear against the wood and his mouth fell open ajar as he heard your sweet voice, whimpering as quietly as it could. He continued to listen as his eyes rapidly blinked and his face pressed harder against the door. He heard the wet noises that had echoed off your walls and your desperate whines in an attempt to make yourself cum. Feeling his cock twitch in his grey sweatpants he pulled his head away from the door, feeling a wave of guilt flow over him. His breathing picked up as he stared into the wood, unsure of what to do. Glancing down at the tent growing in his pants, he took a deep breath and began to listen again. He squeezed his eyes shut and cringed at his actions, almost getting off to the fact you didn’t know he was listening.

Feeling frustrated with your fingers, your huffs became louder as your fingers played between your walls and clit, a tear forming in your eye as you couldn’t focus on yourself with the thought of Cillian only being a room away.

With his now throbbing cock that had swelled triple the size, his stomach turned and knotted with guilt. Needing to hear more or even see more, his hands slowly pressed against the door and opened it slightly. Luckily for him, you kept the curtains open and the moonlight poured into the room and illuminated your skin, letting him see your tits and the way you were choking yourself. He groaned under his breath as he watched your back arch and your body shake under your touch, finally hearing your whimpers clearly and seeing how your swollen lips pulled apart and trembled as you whined out in pleasure. His cock began to pull upwards into his stomach, his tip pulsating a white bead out of his angry, red skin. Wanting to see more, he pulled the door wider and slowly walked a small step in. Grunting at the fact your pussy was covered by the blanket, his palm grabbed his cock and began to press his erection down, sighing at the contact yet growing frustrated at the lack of touch.

Feeling yourself build up to a painful pressure, you grabbed your throat tighter and began fucking yourself harder. Getting so, so close to cumming your head filled with white noise and your eyes rolled. Hearing a small noise come from in front of you, you barely took notice as you were so close to coming undone on yourself, your wetness bouncing off the walls and your moans pronouncing themselves off your lips.

Finally, Cillian cleared his throat and your eyes snapped open, releasing your deathly grip on your neck and pulling your hand up from your pussy. Gasping loudly and pulling your shirt down, you sat up with flushed cheeks as you breathed heavily and batted your wet eyelashes at the man in front of you. Your lips were apart and your chest panted up and down, holding eye contact with him as the lighting pronounced his cock that printed in his pants.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” Your brows furrowed. Whether your face was flushed from arousal or embarrassment you would never know.

“Came to see what the noise was…” he began, a smirk that grew on his face as his wide eyes stared at you. His gaze fell from you to your phone on the bed which stayed on as you touched yourself. “What’re you looking at?”

You pushed your hair out your face and gulped, only just slightly getting your breath back. As your heart beat rapidly against your chest, your eyes shot down and grabbed your phone to switch it off. Taking fast strides over to you, he reached and grasped your phone and wrists in an attempt to get your device off of you. Your heart now beating so fast you can hear it in your ears, your mouth went dry as you tried your best to get your phone out of his grip.

“Just… wanna see… what’s got you worked up.” He chuckled, finally loosening your grip around the phone. He was much stronger than you, falling a few steps back as he gripped it away. Your heart could’ve killed you at the rate it was beating at, your skin vibrating red and a wave of tears forming in your eyes.

“Please! Cillian! Give it back!” You began to sit up out of the bed but it was too late. His mouth fell open wide and turned into a smirk as his eyes never blinked and remained on the screen. You watched as his finger scrolled down and your stomach flipped and knotted at watching Cillian, your boss, read smut you were reading about him. “Please…” you said through a breath “…just give it back.”

“What’s this?” He looked off the screen and up at you, chuckling through his smirk as his eyes stayed wide. “Reading… a sex story?” Tears had began to swell in your eyes and you wanted the bed to fold you into it’s mattress, your skin remaining red as you felt a ball form in your throat. “About me?” He chuckled as he watched you tear up.

Your fingers brushed against your water line and you shook your head. Covering your face in your hands you slowly looked up and caught a glimpse of his hard cock poking out his pants. Feeling a small rush of relief at his arousal, you sniffled and put your hands down.

“Oh… my god.” He threw your phone on your bed. “Fuck M’mean… I was only next door love.” He walked back over to you and stood at the side of your bed, reaching over and pulling your legs in between his to sit on the edge looking up at him he clasped your cheeks in his hand. He was so close to you that you could smell him, the sound of his tired groggy voice was octaves lower than you were used to and his blue iris’s poured right into yours. The nickname sent chills up your spine, your clit still pulsing at your lack of orgasm. He squeezed your cheeks as his hips twitched forward a little, causing you to break eye contact and look at his swollen cock in your face. Your mouth fell open as you looked at the size of him, reaching up and beginning to palm at him through his pants. Feeling his length around your fingers you looked up to see his lips open and flushed with his eyebrows furrowed, heavy breathing at the slight pressure you were giving him.

“Such a pretty girl.” He grabbed your face tighter to look up more at him. Placing both his thumbs in your mouth he opened your jaw gently and grunted as he looked down at you. “Open.” You did as you were told and widened your mouth. He stood closer to you and dropping a small ball of his spit into your mouth, watching as it landed on your tongue as you rubbed it on the roof of your mouth to swallow. He groaned a praise and lent down to press his lips onto yours, softly sucking and pressing onto your soft lips as his tongue grazed your bottom lip. As he kissed you, he pushed you further back into the bed, kneading your waist as he did so. Leaving your lips, he moved to your neck, earlobe and slowly sucked spots of purple down to your belly button, falling onto his knees and pulling you by the thighs to the edge of the bed once more. Reaching under and lifting your shirt of your head, he threw your clothing onto the floor and both of his hands aggressively pulled at your tits.

“Fuckin’ perfect tits.” He groaned, grazing his thumbs across your nipples and twisting your flesh around his digits.

Looking down at your underwear, his hands dropped from your tits to your waist and snuck his fingers around to hook your underwear, pulling them off of you as you raised your hips and throwing them to the side of your shirt on the floor.

“Fuck… so wet. Who got you this wet hm?” His thumb slowly started to rub circles onto your clit as he looked up at you for your response.

“You.” You began to squirm under his touch, already sensitive from your pleasure before.

“Hm? I can’t hear you love… who got you this wet?” He was basically purring, speeding up the circles on your mound as he licked his lips and attached his eyes onto your pussy.

“You! You Cillian.” Your fingers found themselves on his scalp, desperately pulling at him to go faster.

“Such a good assistant… letting me touch you like this.” All you could do was moan and breath out some curse word or the other, shifting your hips to try and create more movement underneath you.

Humming in approval, Cillian placed his lips onto your slit and removed his thumb, snaking his hands back around your waist and grabbed you fiercely into his face. Feeling his tongue slowly caress your wet, hot pussy your back arched against the bed and twitched beneath him. Pressing his face hard while sucking you, the room filled with squelching noises and the sound of his lips popping against you. Reaching down with one of his hands, he pressed two fingers against your hole and moaned at how wet you were, pressing his fingers into you and slowly pumping his digits into your soft soft. Already feeling the knot form in your stomach, your eyes rolled back and you moaned loudly as your legs shook.

“Oh yes… cum for me honey”

Fucking you faster with his fingers as you shook around his face, he held one of your thighs steadily to keep you still as he fingered and ate you out as you came. Whimpering against you, he felt you release onto his tongue and felt your wetness smear around the sides of his lips. Pulling back and giving your clit one more peck before towering over you on the bed, he struggled to get his sweatpants off fast enough as you laid dazed beneath him.

“Can’t wait to feel this cunt around my cock love… been wanting t’fuck you since day one.” Running his throbbing, red tip up and down your slit to collect your arousal, he wrapped his fingers around your neck and held you tight as he pressed his tip into you, grunting at the feeling of your walls around him as he slowly pushed in inches at a time.

“Fuck- oh fuck” He whimpered into your ear, holding your throat tighter as he panted next to you. “So tight.” The way he sounded like he was crying turned you on even more, clenching your walls around him which only made him fall slightly limp into your chest as he continued to push.

Getting up onto his wrists and staring directly into your eyes, he pounded his hips into the back of your thighs in one shove and watched as your face scrunched to the size of him. He felt big and his warmth had spread over your body, lips falling open as his eyebrows furrow as he looks at you.

“Taking my cock so well…” You whimpered and arched your back. He reached over and grabbed one of your hips, looking down at his cock tearing into you. Speeding up his thrusts, he continued to watch as his strokes started to already become desperate and sloppy.

“‘M’already gonna cum.” He looked up at you and tears were in his eyes. You watched him as he pathetically whimpered and whined at the feeling of fucking your pussy.

“Oh fuck-fuck yes.” You felt his warm load shoot into the back of your walls as you clenched him, milking him for all he has. He weakly continued to fuck you through his orgasm, knitting his brows together and trying his best to stay up as his white load violently soaked your insides.

Slowing down his pace as his grunts and groans softened, he pulled out of you and sat back on his knees. Staring at your wrecked pussy, he pulled you apart and watched as his cum leaked out of you.

“Mmm, so pretty honey.”

Standing up and flopping next to you on the bed, he pulled you close and raised your chin to look up at him.

“Just come to me next time… no need to touch yourself as you read your sex stories.” You cringed as you remembered and he chuckled at you, pulling you close into a hug and wrapping his arms around you. He kissed your forehead as you both drifted off to sleep in the same bed and you smiled on his chest, smelling his cologne and feeling his warmth.

[greengoblinswifey]

Fool Me Once—Nicholas Chavez x Fem!Reader

summary— your celebrity crush Nicholas Chavez asks you out and it’s a dream come true until his true colors are shown and you’re chastised publicly for his lies. based on this request.

warnings— mentions of sex, angst, infidelity, fluff.

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿

You never imagined Nicholas Chavez, the Nicholas Chavez, would ever know you existed. Sure, you had a small but loyal social media following, mostly due to your love of photography and quirky posts. And, like half the internet, you reposted pictures of Nicholas with dreamy captions or funny memes. He was your ultimate celebrity crush—the talented actor, the man with a smile that could melt steel, and, let’s be honest, unfairly hot.

So, when a notification popped up on your phone one evening that read, Nicholas Alexander Chavez liked your photo, you assumed it had to be a fan account or some fluke. But when you clicked on it, you saw the blue checkmark and his profile staring back at you. You froze, your heart pounding in disbelief. Then, as if that weren’t shocking enough, another notification followed.

Nicholas Alexander Chavez: “You’re absolutely beautiful. I’m in your city for a few days, would you let me take you out?”

Your jaw practically hit the floor. For a second, you thought it might be a prank. But after checking and rechecking his profile and the message, you realized it was real. Nicholas Chavez, your crush—wanted to take you out.

You barely managed to type back, your fingers shaking as you replied, “I’d love to. When?”

The day of the date arrived faster than you could mentally prepare yourself. You spent hours deciding on an outfit, wondering what to say, and convincing yourself not to hyperventilate. But all your nerves evaporated the moment he showed up at your door, holding a stunning bouquet of flowers.

He smiled, his eyes warm and inviting, and said, “These are for you.” Then, leaning in slightly, he asked, “Can I kiss you?”

You nodded, stunned and unable to form words, and he kissed you softly, his hand brushing your cheek. “You’re even more beautiful in person,” he murmured, and you felt like you might actually combust on the spot.

You invited him inside, placing the flowers in water while trying not to let him notice how giddy you were. He looked effortlessly handsome in a simple button-up and pants, and his calm demeanor somehow helped you relax. Soon, you were in his car, heading to a chic restaurant.

At dinner, you couldn’t help but feel shy. After all, this was your crush. But Nicholas had an easy way about him, asking about your life and interests, laughing at your jokes, and opening up about his own.

“You’re a photographer?” he asked, his eyes lighting up. “That’s really cool. What kind of photos do you like to take?”

You explained your love for capturing candid moments and shared a few funny stories about your shoots. He listened intently, nodding and asking questions, making you feel like the most important person in the room.

Eventually, you couldn’t ignore the nagging question in your mind. “So, um—what happened with your girlfriend?”

He tilted his head, his expression softening. “We broke up a few days ago. It just wasn’t working out.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you said, feeling a bit awkward for bringing it up.

“Don’t be,” he said, reaching across the table to brush his fingers against yours. “Forget about her. Tonight, I’m focused on you.”

The flirty comment sent a thrill down your spine, and the rest of the evening passed in a blur of laughter and connection.

Back at your apartment, things escalated quickly. As soon as you unlocked the door, Nicholas pressed you against it, his lips finding yours in a heated kiss. His hands explored your waist as he murmured, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this.”

You barely managed to breathe out a response before he kissed you again, his intensity making your head spin.

Somehow, you ended up in the kitchen, and Nicholas grabbed a rose from the bouquet, twirling it between his fingers with a playful grin. “You’re incredible,” he said, brushing the petals along your collarbone before leading you to your bedroom.

There, the mood turned playful and intimate. Nicholas placed the rose in his mouth smiling that beautiful grin that made you melt saying, “Kiss me.”

You laughed, snapping a picture on your phone. “You’re ridiculous,” you said, but you leaned in anyway, pressing your lips to his.

The night was a filled with lust passion, the two of you tangled in each other as though the world outside didn’t exist.

“You’re so deep,” you cried, your hands on his chest as he pounded into you.

“I know baby, take it for me, take my cock,” Nicholas breathed.

He had your legs shaking the entire night, coaxing multiple orgasms and screams out of you. You were in cloud nine.

The next morning, you woke up to the smell of breakfast. Wrapping a blanket around yourself, you wandered into the kitchen to find Nicholas at the stove, wearing only sweatpants and a smile.

“Morning,” he said, turning to kiss your forehead. “Thought I’d make you something before I head out.”

You watched him, your heart full. It all felt too good to be true.

While he cooked, you posted a photo dump on Instagram, including the silly picture of him with the rose and another ood you holding hands. The likes and comments rolled in almost immediately, some gushing about how cute it was and others speculating about his ex. But you didn’t care. For once, the attention felt exciting.

For the next week while he was in your city, Nicholas made you feel like the only woman in the world. He took you on dates, surprised you with thoughtful gestures, and made every moment unforgettable. The chemistry between you was unfathomable, and the connection went beyond just physical.

But when the week ended, he had to leave. “I’ll be back,” he promised, kissing you goodbye. “And I’ll talk to you everyday.”

You believed him. But hours turned into days, and his messages became less frequent until they stopped altogether.

It had only been a few days since Nicholas left, and already, the silence was deafening. You kept checking your phone, hoping for a message or even a quick reply to your last text. Nothing. It was like he had vanished. You tried to reason with yourself—maybe he was busy, tied up with meetings and interviews. But doubt crept in. Had he forgotten about you already?

Then you saw it.

A photo popped up on your Instagram feed, shared by both Nicholas and his ex—or, as it seemed now, his girlfriend. They were smiling, her head resting on his shoulder, and the caption read, “Through ups and downs, love always wins.”

Your stomach dropped. The world blurred around you as the realization hit like a train. Hurt. Anger. Confusion. All at once.

How could he? You’d believed him when he said they’d broken up, that he was focused on you. But now, it seemed like everything he’d said, everything he’d done, had been a lie.

As if the betrayal wasn’t enough, the hate started rolling in.

Your social media exploded with comments from strangers. People flooded the photo dump you’d posted of your time with Nicholas, zeroing in on the candid shot of him holding the rose in his mouth and the picture of your intertwined hands.

“Slut.”

“Homewrecker.”

“She really thought she could break them up? Pathetic.”

“Delete these photos. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

They didn’t know the truth. They didn’t know that he had reached out to you, that he had said the relationship was over. But the facts didn’t matter. His girlfriend’s fans had decided you were the villain in their love story, and they were relentless.

You tried to ignore it, but the constant barrage of hateful comments across your posts and DMs was too much. Finally, snapping a photo of the now-wilted flowers Nicholas had given you, you posted it with the caption:

“All because I liked a boy.”

Even before you turned off the comments, the hate poured in. “You should have stayed in your lane.” “He was never yours.” “Hope you’re happy ruining yourself over him.”

You couldn’t take it anymore. Your hands trembled as you scrolled to Nicholas’ number and called him. No answer. You tried again. Nothing.

Frustrated, you texted him.

You: The fuck is going on, Nicholas? Explain yourself .

He responded almost instantly.

Nicholas: Hey, it’s not what it looks like.

You: Talk now. I’m not playing games.

Nicholas: Look, I didn’t think it would blow up like this. The thing with me and her, it’s complicated.

Your blood boiled.

You: Complicated? Are you serious? You told me you two broke up. You showed up at my door with flowers, telling me you were focused on me. Now I’m being called a homewrecker and a SLUT because you can’t keep your story straight?

Nicholas: It’s not like that. I didn’t lie to you. We were on a break, but things changed. I didn’t plan for this to happen.

You: Didn’t plan for what? To get back together with her? To use me as your rebound? Do you have any idea what I’m dealing with right now because of you?

Nicholas: I didn’t mean for you to get dragged into this. I’m sorry if people are being harsh, but you don’t have to engage with them.

You stared at his response, dumbfounded. If people were being harsh? He didn’t even acknowledge his role in this mess.

You: Oh, I’m sorry. Should I just sit here quietly while people tear me apart for your lies? You’re unbelievable.

Nicholas: Look, I don’t know what else to say. I didn’t do anything wrong.

You laughed bitterly at his audacity.

You: You didn’t do anything wrong? You lied to me, Nicholas. You lied about her, about us, and now I’m the one paying for it. But sure, you did nothing wrong.

Nicholas: I didn’t force you to post anything. You knew the risks.

Your jaw clenched, fury overtaking you.

You: Are you fucking kidding me? You pursued me. You made me believe you actually cared. And now, when everything’s blowing up, you’re just washing your hands of it? Unbelievable.

Nicholas: I’m sorry you’re upset. But I can’t change what’s already happened.

That was the last straw. You tossed your phone onto the couch, shaking with rage. His dismissive tone, his refusal to take responsibility, it was infuriating.

You spent the rest of the evening trying to calm yourself, but the anger and hurt lingered. The flowers sat on your counter, now wilted and brown, a bitter reminder of what could have been. You thought back to the moments you shared, the laughs, the touches, the promises he made. They felt tainted now, like a cruel joke.

The hate persisted, but you refused to let it consume you. You weren’t the villain here, no matter what people said. Nicholas had made his choice, and you were done being collateral damage.

As for him? You hoped one day he’d realize the gravity of what he’d done and he would suffer.

The days following the fallout were a blur of anger and exhaustion. You kept your phone on silent to avoid the constant notifications, but a ping from a verified account caught your eye. It was a message from Nicholas’s girlfriend.

“Hi,” it read. “I know things have been messy, but I really need to get your side of the story. I’m starting to think Nicholas hasn’t been honest with me, and it’s important I hear everything. I’ll be flying into your city tomorrow. Can we meet at that new restaurant downtown at 1 PM?”

You hesitated, your finger hovering over the reply button. On one hand, you wanted nothing to do with her after her fans had dragged your name through the mud. On the other, you knew she deserved the truth. After a moment, you typed.

“Fine. I’ll be there.”

The next day, you arrived at the restaurant five minutes early, scanning the room nervously. When she walked in, you felt your breath hitch. Nicholas definitely had a type. Her deep brown skin glowed, and her braids cascaded down her back like a waterfall. She was stunning, even more so in person, and it made you wonder how Nicholas could ever risk losing someone like her.

She smiled tightly and slid into the seat across from you. “Thank you for meeting me,” she said. “I know this isn’t easy, but I really need to know what happened.”

You nodded, taking a deep breath before you began. “Nicholas reached out to me first,” you said. “He told me you two had broken up. He said he was ready to move on and focus on on me.

Her brows furrowed. “He said that?”

You nodded. “He showed up at my door with flowers. We didn’t even take things slow. He spent the night. The next morning, he made me breakfast.” You paused, gauging her reaction. “I had no idea you were still together. I would never have gotten involved if I’d known.”

She leaned back in her seat, her expression a mix of hurt and anger. “That’s not what he told me,” she said, her voice trembling. “He told me he was visiting friends here and handling acting stuff. He said it’d be better for me to stay home and rest. And when I saw the photos of you two, he said you were just some crazy fan. That you asked him to hold your hand and begged for the photos, and he only did it because he didn’t want to seem rude.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “That’s bullshit. I didn’t beg him for anything. He was the one pursuing me. He was more than willing to take those photos, and he wasn’t exactly shy about getting close. He fucked me, and he made breakfast like it was the start of something real.”

Her face crumpled, and for a moment, you felt a pang of guilt. This wasn’t your fault, but seeing her pain made you wish things had gone differently.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered. “You didn’t deserve any of this—the lies, the hate. And I had no idea my fans were being so vicious. That’s not who I am, I swear. I’m a feminist. I would never want another woman to be treated like this, especially because of a man.”

You placed a hand on hers across the table. “Thank you for saying that. And for coming here to get the truth. You deserve better than him.”

She gave a small, watery smile. “So do you.”

Then, as if struck by an idea, she pulled out her phone. “You know what? Let’s turn this around. Nicholas has no idea I’m here, and I want him to know we’ve got each other’s backs.”

Before you could respond, she snapped a candid photo of the two of you laughing, her arm draped casually over your shoulder. She typed a caption, her fingers flying across the screen. A few seconds later, she showed it to you.

“When he fumbles not just one, but two baddies. #WeDeserveBetter”

You couldn’t help but laugh. “I love it.”

By the time you got home, the internet was ablaze. The hate had turned into apologies, with people flooding your DMs to express their regret. “I’m so sorry for judging you.” “I was wrong to attack you.” “You’re so beautiful!” “Nicholas has a type.”

Nicholas, however, wasn’t taking it well. He texted you within minutes of the post being up.

Nicholas: What the hell is this? Why are you teaming up with her to turn her against me?

You: She deserved to know the truth. You did this to yourself.

Nicholas: I didn’t do anything wrong! You’re twisting things and making me look bad. You’re crazy and a liar.

You rolled your eyes and took a screenshot of the conversation. Without hesitation, you posted it to your story with the caption: “Men will manipulate and gaslight you, then call you crazy when it doesn’t work. Stay safe out there.”

The backlash against him was immediate. People dragged him across all platforms, calling him out for his lies and manipulation.

You blocked him after that, finally cutting him out of your life for good.

In the weeks that followed, you poured yourself into your photography, using the newfound attention and followers to showcase your work. Brands reached out for collaborations, and your career began to flourish in ways you hadn’t imagined.

Though the experience had been painful, it had also been empowering. You’d stood your ground, found an unlikely ally, and reclaimed your narrative. And as for Nicholas? He was left scrambling, a dumbfounded shell of the man who thought he could play you both.

[overseer-picard]

My Favorite "Ugly" TNG Aliens

5. Pucker Pouts (Bre'el, "Deja Q"). A bit bland at first glance, typical Westmore forehead but then BAM, you see the mouths. Benevolent Salt Sucker vibes.

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

4. Snots. (Gamelanian, "Final Mission"). I remember audibly gasping the first time I saw this. Breathtaking choices all around. The hair, the orange, the snots... just amazing. Perhaps one of Michael Westmore's children was sick with a cold at the time.

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

3. Infinity Eyebags. (Zakdorn, "Peak Performance"). There is something so normal yet so unsettling about this man and his face bags. A rare case of a real hairline. I also love his Clergy-like cape.

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

2. Tumor Biopsy (species unknown, "New Ground"). This guy taps into some kind of fight or flight response deep in my brain stem. Maybe the instinct to not touch infections? I think he'd look good in like, Fallout or The Last of Us. Great post-apocalyptic radiation scarring.

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

1. Shower Drain Clog (Yridian, "Gambit Pt. 1"). My all time favorite of the ugliest aliens. Look at all the sprouting hair around his neck, amazing details.

Yridians win the ugliest of ugly for me because well, if you look with your eyes, you will see that they are quite ugly. The ears, the hair, the color pallet, the ball-sacky nature of the skin seam.

I'd be remiss to not bring up Mr. Jaglom Shrek, who, unlike Yranac pictured above, recognized his receding hairline and, to preserve his enviable good looks, shaved his scraggles.

The sheer creativity these makeup artists had to churn out, week after week, is astounding. The planning, the molds, the sculpting, the applications, the hours of labor, the patient actors, what a privilege it is to witness such creation. These aliens may be ugly, but they are definitely not boring.

Thank you Michael Westmore, your footprint in Hollywood is vast and untouchable.

[meanbossart]

hi rj! i’ve been following you for a couple of months now and i’m actually obsessed with your art and du drow 😭 i saw your recent post/reply to an ask about your favorite art from last year and for the comic, you put old habits. naturally i had to read it again and couldn’t help but wonder (and sorry if you’ve replied to this before), but what does du drow’s voice sound like?

you have such a knack for writing natural-sounding dialogue and as a writer i am SO envious hahah, and whenever you add dialogue to your art pieces i imagine drow speaking with a low timbre or baritone voice?? do you perhaps have a voice actor’s voice in mind for drow? and god i know hope this man has some sort of accent or “curve” to the end of his words (i say this as someone who speaks 3 languages and sounds different in every single one)!!

Hello! Oh, I apologize for what may be a very boring answer, but DU drow's voice is simply intended to read as the Dark Urge's voice (number 5, I believe) that the game defaults to when you pick that origin.

That's the voice I had to listen to it throughout the entirety of the game, all hundred-something hours, every time I clicked on the guy, had him attack, crouch, or start a dialogue. Neil Roberts' cadence and accent has been seared into my brain and I can't hear it as anything else. The "flair" of DU drow's sentences and vocabulary is also modeled entirely after what the game's acting provides for a dark urge character. I guess the ONLY note I could make is that he's about 10% less intense during normal conversation.

(voice 5 starts at 7:07)

So, deep voice, very gravelly, and a pronounced - and surprisingly a little posh - english accent. He performs a sort of rugged elderness, (he's always made sure to sound older than he actually is) enunciates carefully, and speaks slowly. He's far more casual around people he's close to (unless he's trying to woo them, of course) and knows to talk simpler and softer with children - in general, he has very good control over his words and delivery, though he gets swept in emotion half the time after being tadpoled.

[bluetimeombre]

ׂ╰┈➤ She’s like a shot of Espresso

You work in a coffee shop and suddenly Jacob is a coffee enthusiast

This man has been appearing in my dreams, he’s just begging for my attention. Btw I totally don’t work in a coffee shop…

ׂ╰┈➤

Teenpopbuzz: we've found jacbobelordi favourite coffee spot! the actor has been seen visiting there on three separate occasions

304k likes 211k comments

user: hubba hubba

user: so princess diana coded

user: he's so pretty

user: breaking, jacobelordi goes to coffee shop THREE times

user: daddy

user: babe,,, come back, the children miss you

user: what i would do to be a coffee cup and sit between his lips

user: help someone said he's princess diana coded

ׂ╰┈➤

Jacob was not a nervous person. He never got nervous and never felt awkward. But this was a trip to the coffee shop he'd frequented and he'd slowly started to get the shakes before every time. What the hell was wrong with him?

He knew what was wrong with him, his friends knew what was wrong with him. He had a crush. A crush on the pretty barista who served him every time.

The cafe had only been opened an hour but he was there and so were you. He realised you were there most days, with a smile and style.

The bell over the door dinged as he walked in and as you finished serving your customer. It was all quiet inside as he strode to the counter.

'Hi,' you smiled as the other customer walked away.

'How you doing?' he asked politely.

'I'm good, your usual?'

He grinned. 'You know it already.'

'Of course. Any plans today?' he knew you were probably just making conversation, but it still felt nice to talk to you.

'Nothing much, just got this book I want to finish.'

'Oh yea? What you reading?'

'Grapes of Wrath,' he said. He moved along the counter with you, keeping conversation.

'You know if you like Steinbeck you should try East of Eden, it's my favourite book.'

'Really?'

You went into describing the book and he listened intently, smiling at you as you got excited over the book. He came in with his own prompts too.

‘Sorry, im keeping up,’ You apologized, sliding his coffee over.

‘No please, I love to hear it. I’ve got nothing much on.’

‘Finishing a Book, very important business,’ You tell him.

When another customer walked in, it was his cue to leave, slowly and looking back at you like one hundred times.

Jacob opened the door, calling to you one more time, completely ignoring the customer that was there. ‘I’ll see you soon!’

You smile and blush.

ׂ╰┈➤

liked by… yourusername, sydney_sweeney, enews, tchalamet & others

Jacobelordi: I’ve heard East of Eden is a good read

1m likes 782k comments

user: aesthetic king

user: he’s so pretty

user: babygurl

user: 😍😍

user: I will bet so much money that’s from the coffee shop he likes or something

user: he’s so bf!!! I need him

user: he was written by a woman people!!!

user: how is he so gorgeous!!

user: I am free and single to hang out on Thursday Jacob, I’ll be free Thursday for us to date if you are free on Thursday

user: I want you

user: he so cute fr

liked by… yourfriend, yourfriend, yourfriendsfriend and jacobelordi

Yourusername: oh no!!! I’m posting my three favorite things! Coffee, books and books! Hope a cute guy who has an affinity for these things doesn’t slide into my dms

105likes 20comments

yourfriend: she’s cute

yourfriend: ur so cool urg!!!

yourfriend: the caption, ur so iconic 😭😭

user: jacobelordi follows her?!?

ׂ╰┈➤

Jacobelordi started following yourusername

Yourusername started following jacobelordi

ׂ╰┈➤

Yourusername DMS

Jacobelordi: 📚

Jacobelordi: oh no, I accidentally tripped and dropped all my classics full of my annotations with all my interesting ideas and thoughts

ׂ╰┈➤

Jacob had a mission.

Your cafe was busier by the time he got in around lunch. It had been a busy week and beside talking to you through instagram, there hasn’t been much chance of a chance to see you.

So boy was he gonna see you today. And he had a plan.

He walked in and couldn’t immediately see you but saw your co-workers, another guy and another girl at the counter. He lingered around. What if you weren’t working today? But he was sure you were, you were always in on this day.

He caught sight of you, talking to a couple out for lunch and he smiled, tapping the book in his pocket.

After you left them to eat their lunch, you strode over. He noticed the blush on your cheeks, he’s hoped you’d be just as nervous.

‘Hey,’ he smiled as you slid behind the counter.

Your co-workers wondered away, clearly trying to make it look as if they weren’t listening.

‘I actually brought something for you,’ he said, suddenly wanting to hide behind his cap.

‘For me?’

With a grin, he slid over Grapes of Wrath. ‘It’s my copy, annotated and that. I just thought you might like to read it.’

‘Oh my god, thank you!’ You practically caressed the book. ‘It’s so funny cause I actually have something for you-‘ then, you pulled out east of Eden. ‘My copy. Not quite annotated but there’s a line or two underlined.’

‘Oh woah,’ the two of you laugh about it, thumbing though the pages.

Finally, Jacob knew he had to ask. He couldn’t not. ‘Maybe, if you’re free- and if you’re up to it, we could meet up and chat about it- and other things of course.’

You watch, blushing.

‘A date!’ He suddenly announced. ‘I’m asking you out on a date.’

You nod. ‘I would love to go on a date with you, just let me know when, you have my number.’

Confused, his brows furrowed until you helped him. You flicked open the cover and on the first page of the book, your number was scribbled.

And he knew, he was in bad.

ׂ╰┈➤

Teenpopbuzz: new couple alert?! Jacobelordi has been spotted out and about with a mystery girl a few times now, could this be his new lucky woman?!

856k likes 445k comments

user: that should be me!!! Holding your hand!!

user: omg they’re so cute!!

user: isn’t this yourusername, who works in the cafe?

user: he’s literally just taking pictures of her, it’s so cute!!!

user: she better sleep with one eye open

user: I’m in love with them

user: he looks happy eeeekk

user: yourusername

user: ok I’ve stalked yourusername, she works in the cafe he’s been seen at

user: they’re so cute

user: I like the dog

liked by… yourusername, florencepugh, emmachamberlian & tchalamet

Jacobelordi: six months of free coffee! Thank you my love x

tagged: yourusername

1.1m likes 802k comments

user: AHHHHHHHH

user: he made it official!!!!

user: my parents!

user: she’s actually so pretty wtf

user: I can’t tell who i want to be more

user: the fact they met through the cafe she works at, talk about meet cute

user: telling my kids this is Romeo and Juliet

user: omg the free coffee comment, hahahah

user: do you think she’s seen saltburn?

yourusername: <3

[teambyler]

The Stranger Things subreddit zealously protecting the delusion there's "no possibility" of Byler

OMG I didn't see this r/StrangerThings post before, where they talk about the infamous Noah statement where he said it wasn't clear whether Mike and Will's relationship was romantic. The commenters are truly in denial

Look at the comments if you have zero Byler doubt or Minimal Byler Doubt(TM). Because it's all unintentionally hilarious from that point of view. No 3-hour video essay from a lawyer is getting into the thickness that is these skulls.

Here's one comment:

MY DUDE Noah was talking about Mike and Will seeming romantic from the start, and we all know it was MIKE'S actions giving that impression much more than Will's in s1 and s2!

Of COURSE Noah would know something about the character Will's closest to and plays off of in the show. To think that Noah, who had read the final script, has NO insight into another character let alone Mike is STUPID and IDIOTIC. Do people think actors show up on set and are SURPRISED by what the other actors do? Do they know that this show about alternate dimensions is not a reality show?

Some go so far as to say Noah (a gay man) is queerbaiting Bylers and "is being clever here." (The arguments are getting really desperate now.) On what planet? Noah clearly was uncomfortable, and was nervous because he thought he was being too HONEST. Noah panicking at the question ALONE says that Byler is likely in s5, if you have more than 2 brain cells.

The only other thing they say is "Mike loves El." (Which Bylers don't disagree with lol) Oh and some bullying of course, including one commenter accusing Bylers of being "fanatical and comically certain" when that is precisely what describes the anti-Bylers in that thread reacting to this powerful indication that Byler is not only possible, but likely.

EDIT: I couldn't help myself just now:

-teambyler

[darlingkikki]

wait need a 141 scare actors x reader blurb

Synopsis: A horror night worker sees you and gives his men a task; make sure you leave smiling. Pairing: TF141!Scare Actors x GN!Reader (first meeting vibes so nothing too crazy but Kyle’s too great for me to keep it lowkey lmao) Word Count: 3.6k (I think) Warnings: negative self-talk, reader is very lonely (reasons up to you) a/n: Let me know if I missed any warnings or did not keep it gender-neutral and I will fix it <3. You gave me the green light and you will pay dearly for how badly I wish I were a better writer. Happy Halloween!

A man with an interesting mustache and beard combo greets you at the gates.

“Admission for one?” He asks, glancing over your shoulder to check that your friends or partner aren’t lagging. 

The question pokes at the part inside of you that recoils into your shell when others notice how alone you are, the forever raw wound that no positive affirmations or small bouts with talk therapists have been able to scab over. It’s constantly bleeding, oozing thoughts in voices you both recognize and don’t. They cover a wide variety, though they lead back to you, a homing missile locked onto your actual self and not the warped beyond-recognition version they are about. The version no one who knows you sees. You’ve been told you’re actually not that bad; you’re still stuck on why they used the word actually in something meant to be complimentary. 

One therapist (the one you felt could help, but they decided a job in another state was more important than your problems), said that the best way to combat these thoughts is to fight them, think louder and harder in the opposite direction, even if you think you’re lying to yourself. So, that’s what you did. You psyched yourself up in the mirror for the better part of an hour as you pulled on your costume and repeated to yourself that this was normal. 

Why should an infamous horror night be such a big deal? People go out alone all the time.

“Yep,” you say with a forced smile. It’s enough, but it doesn’t feel like enough. So, you over-explain because your mouth never knows when to quit. “I love going to these alone, really puts me in the Halloween mood.” 

The man tilts his head to one side, observing that slight pinch of your expression. Your voice is light and measured. And that smile. You’re performing. Everything about this is fake, everything about you is fake, a mask worn when the switch in your brain flips to ‘social interaction mode’, so strangers think of you in a certain way. You want him to know you’re not the least bit insecure about being alone. Not at all. The distant sounds of screaming and laughter inside the park don’t carve into you like an ice pick.

You’re not fooling him—no one can, as far as he’s concerned. He’s posted at the entrance for a reason, not because he’s grown too old to run around and scare people with grotesque makeup or prop weapons. He’s an assessor through and through. One brief conversation and he knows whether someone will be a good sport or one of those rude assholes that think it’s cool to scream back at the actors or posturing snobs who shit all over their efforts. You may be lying to him and yourself, but you won’t be a problem. 

Something about you reminds him of someone. He draws the comparison only after you school your smile to a blank expression. You have smile lines around your mouth, evidence that the muscles aren’t under-used, he just wonders how many are genuine. 

You’re still staring at him as he extends his hand towards you, palm up. 

“Give it here,” he orders and gestures towards your own, which has been clutching the fabric of your costume as if you think it’s trying to escape.

You stretch out your fingers, persuading them to relax and hold out your clammy hand so he can press a stamp down on the back of it. The design glows a bright lavender when light catches it at a certain angle, indecipherable enough that you can’t figure out exactly what it says or depicts. You’re about to pull away when he stamps you again. You don’t ask why, assuming it’s because the first was too light or smudged. With a gentle parting squeeze, your hand is your own again. You start towards the exit as he’s stuffing the stamp back into his pocket. 

He speaks again just as you’re about to be past his shoulder. His voice is soft but gritty like a smoker's. “You have yourself a hell of a night, alright?” 

“Yes, Sir.” You curse yourself for your unnecessary use of the title as you make it past the entrance to the park. You don’t know why you called him that, but it makes more sense than it should. He has a natural ability to garner respect, you felt it even in that brief interaction. He chuckles, rough and deep, as he pulls his phone out to make do with his mission.

You take a break from screaming and scurrying away from zombies and slashers to do something fun.

And what’s more fun than blowing too much money on playing carnival games until you win one of the large plushies? It seems easy enough after the woman running the stand explains the game to you—until you’ve sunk twenty bucks into it and only manage one ring on a bottle. The others have bounced off and landed on the ground. 

The stares of the wide-eyed plushies feel less like they’re cheering you on and more like they’re mocking you. Are you seriously playing a child’s game alone? And losing? Why? So you can win a dumb stuffed animal? You’ll leave here the same way you came and you deserve it.

There’s no way one is even worth the amount that you've lost so far. You’re ready to throw in the towel when you sense something behind you. 

It shouldn’t be something that spells danger, not with the woman who has been pocketing your money standing just a few feet away, but your body seems to ignore that fact and react as though Michael Myers himself is lurking behind you. 

You whirl around and your bones turn to ice when you find yourself face-to-chest with a tall, imposing figure. You’re too aghast to scream, mind-body connection severed, you’re left gaping up at the man like a fish out of water. He can’t have been there long, but you’ve been so caught up in the game that he could’ve been standing behind you the entire time. 

The man does not react to your fear, just meets you with an uncomfortably realistic-looking skull mask and unblinking eyes. His posture is rigid, like one of the decorative scarecrows you saw near the entrance. His eyes rake over your body in a way that reminds you of an x-ray, lingering on something for a prolonged moment. Whatever he sees, it pushes him to speak to you. 

“This one’s fuckin’ awful.”

His eyes crinkle at the corners, dark pools glinting with humor, but you’re too busy trying to calm your racing heart to respond. He’s used to people being afraid of him beyond the context of working at events like this, so he steps around you and picks up the pile of rings on the table. You press a trembling hand to your chest and take deep, pacifying breaths.

In and out, you tell yourself, over and over, until your heartbeat no longer resembles the sound of galloping horses. In the time it takes you to collect your bearings, he's thrown each ring over the tops of three bottles effortlessly. Anxiety dissolves into confusion, even more when he turns to you and then jerks his head towards the higher shelves, ignoring the slightly annoyed woman behind the counter. She was probably hoping you’d spend another couple of dollars.

“Oh.” Confusion melts into realization. Your lips curl upwards, but something still doesn’t feel right. He’d broken character to help you for seemingly no reason. “Thank you, but you didn’t need to-” 

“Already did. Pick the one you want.”

His insistence is sharp but harmless equally. The prize is yours, so no use in trying to out-polite the man. 

When you look back at the shelves, it’s with a radiant smile. Even though you hadn’t exactly won one yourself, the kindness of the skull-faced stranger was enough to silence your worries. The perfect one picks you before you pick it. There’s a lone skeleton with cutesy eyes and a squishy body surrounded by a sea of adorable plush pumpkins and black cats. You point to it and the woman behind the counter hands it over with a half-hearted “congrats”. The stranger in the mask smiles at your choice, though you’re not looking at him. When you’re done giving testing squeezes to the plushie, you turn to the man to thank him again, but he’s nowhere to be found, gone just as quietly as he’d appeared.

Sometime later, plushie in your arms, you find the line for a walk through the cornfield. It winds around plastic dividers like a snake, but what else can you expect from the major attraction when the night is in full swing? You join the line, picking at the white tag sewn into the leg of your plushie. There’s a couple in front of you dressed in matching costumes; they decide the wait is the perfect time to get reacquainted with one another. A worker ropes off the divider so no one else can enter and the distracted group of friends in front of the couple doesn’t notice or care about them, so no one else accompanies you in the awkwardness of listening to smacking lips and affectionate hums. Bitterness swells in your throat like you’ve swallowed a pill without water. Stroking the soft underbelly of your prize helps—somewhat. You think about the sweet, albeit intense, scare actor until the giggling couple with now identically smudged makeup walks hand-in-hand through the entrance.

There is little to no light inside of the field. The brightest thing is the moonlight, which makes walking down the dirt path between corn stalks an even more eerie experience. It’s almost peaceful, ignoring the creepy props lining the paths and the random actors hidden in the stalks itching to grab at your ankles or jump out at you (three have accosted you so far). And soon to be a fourth as corn rustles in front of you, leaf blades bouncing off each other harsher than when skimmed by the wind. 

Another couple of steps and a man in a bloody burlap sack-like mask pops out with outstretched arms and a loud “boo” to top it all off—you yelp, nearly dropping your plushie on the ground.

The man responds with a laugh, infectious and warm, before tugging off his mask. Odd, you think, because none of the other actors had prolonged the interaction after leaving you short of breath. Well, none but one.

“I’m Kyle,” he introduces himself, flashing a disarming smile. It’s dazzling, you almost miss him holding out a hand. “Sorry for…you know, just doin’ my job and all.”

Without the disturbing mask, he’s quite pretty, the kind that makes you immediately comply and give him both your right hand and name. Your stamps glow under the moonlight, and he sighs in relief, shoulders relaxing. He thought you’d have left by now.

“Nice meeting you,” he says, bowing at the waist. 

He’s prince-levels of charming, much too relaxed for the environment. His costume is more normal than scary without the mask, just a deep red tunic and dark-wash jeans. You can make out small bits of hay stuck to his hair and clothes. It makes for a dorky and cute visual. 

He does not slink back into the corn as the actors before him did. Instead, he straightens, making a face at the stuffed animal you’re holding.

“You win that for yourself?” 

“Tried to, but one of the actors ended up helping me, actually.”

He quirks a brow. “You pick it because it looks like him?”

You don’t know how he guessed so quickly, but you nod, sheepish that he’d caught you clutching it so protectively, like you were holding a dear gift from a loved one. 

It’s just a stupid toy a stranger won for you. Won for you. You hold it tighter.

Kyle shakes his head, muttering “smart bastard” under his breath and then his eyes are on you. He has that deep shade of brown that’s impossible to say no to.

“The way to the exit can be a bit borin’,” he explains, his lips pursed in thought. “You alright with some company?”

And now you’re even more confused. Was he even allowed to? And why would he care if you’re bored?

“Will you get in trouble?” You ask, glancing towards the quiet path, trying to gauge how long you’d be pulling him away from his job. From what he’s saying, you can assume the exit is near, but you can’t see it from here.

“Nah, you were the last one coming through, so I’m free to roam,” he shrugs, stepping out of your way so you can walk side-by-side.

You soon discover Kyle is even more of a gem than you’d initially realized. He's more than just a beautiful person to look at, he’s funny, and more friendly with you than strangers ought to be. He asks about you. You don’t know what to say at points, but he doesn’t seem to mind. When your voice wavers or your tongue fumbles, he’s patient. He’s genuinely interested, actually listening, and those pools of brown are as distracting as you thought because soon you’re walking underneath the cobweb-decorated archway signaling the end of the walk.

Your heart clenches. You’re not ready for your night to be over. You’re not prepared for your time with Kyle to be over, to face that tonight has been one of the few times you’ve been the target of considerate treatment and could very well be the only time.

You miss the reflected disappointment in his features because a harsh sound cuts through the air, similar to the rev of a car engine. Then it happens again, just as cacophonic followed by maniacal laughter, and a large man barrels through the corn so quickly you scream and nearly fall over into Kyle’s arms. 

“Fuckin’ hell ‘Tavish, you nearly killed my new friend here,” Kyle laughs, patting you on the back. Reassurance. You’re in no danger. 

The chainsaw wielder lets the act go rather quickly, lowering it to the ground and regarding you with a mischievous grin. 

“Just doin’ my job,”—the man waves off the accusation—“Not my fault Price chose a screamer.”

You squint at the man who’d nearly given you a heart attack. Price chose you? Who’s Price? Kyle claps the man on the back of the head. They interact as old friends, brothers. 

“Sorry,” Kyle turns to you, apologetic. “Should’ve warned you about the main event. Got a bit distracted.”

In fairness, you were too. You don’t mention that it was because of his eyes..

“Apology accepted,” you say, “Though your friend is on thin ice.”

“Me?” The man in question scoffs like you’ve accused him of a grave sin. His lips press together to keep his laughter at bay, though he’s got about as much tact as the hair on his head, which is shaved on both sides, leaving a strip of hair down the middle. He’s cocky, you can sense that. Cocky people are to you what salt is to a snail, though Kyle doesn’t seem the type to surround himself with the bad kind, so you try not to curl in on yourself.

“Not jus’ his friend,” he says, sending you a wink, “I’m John, Johnny if yer feelin’ brave.”

Kyle rolls his eyes and nudges you with his shoulder to get you walking towards the park exit, a straight shot from the cornfield. “Come on, we don’t need to take this.” 

“You scared me too,” you remind him as Johnny takes up the space on your left side, “Don’t think I forgot about that.”

He snorts, “Touche.”

“A screamer an’ not afraid to knock you down a peg,” Johnny notes, “I like ‘em already.” He hasn’t stopped staring at the side of your face. You wipe your hand across your cheek in case something is on it. 

The walk through the park is quiet, save for Johnny and Kyle throwing friendly jabs at one another. Most people have already left; the last few actors send looks in your direction and carnival game runners are shutting off their lights and closing down for the night.

“You have fun tonight?” Johnny asks you once the parking lot comes into view. Only a handful of clusters of cars remained in contrast to when you’d arrived.

The most fun you’ve had in a while. You’ve grown used to that heavy chunk of loneliness sitting in your chest like a rock. You drag it around behind you, a life sentence. Let it tether to your emotions and bog them down, anchoring your feet in some instances and letting the ground swallow you whole in others. You’re going home with a small part carved out. A crevice where something less bitter and more sweet can wedge itself in and find a home, spreading far and wide if you’re lucky.

The two exchange toothy grins when you respond positively, a cheerful smile cracking your face open for them to see. The look withholds a meaning that you aren’t privy to. Price was right, as always. A special someone deserved more smiles tonight, and they’d accomplished their mission.

“Found you any earlier an’ I would’ve won you one of those too,”—Johnny gestures to your plushie—“Ah’ve got an arm on me, a mean one when it comes to the bottle toss.”

Kyle and you roll your eyes. You assume the people in his life have grown quite comfortable doing so. Your initial descriptor of cocky was accurate, but he’s endearingly cocky in a way that doesn’t put you off too much. 

“Watch it, the big guy will take your head off,” Kyle warns.

“He’s not even here. I can say wha’ I want.”

“He’s right behind you.”

“Nah, he’s—” Johnny spins around and gasps, similar to how you’d reacted earlier, though he is a bit more dramatic. “Steamin’ Jesus, where’d you come from?”

You turn as well, hoping it’s who you’re thinking, and it is. The man who’d won you the plushie you’re holding.

He looks at you in the same way as before, though his imposing figure seems more relaxed than it had been. You presume these men are all friends. They seem comfortable enough around each other to be.

“Price wants to see us,” he says, his deep voice rolling from his chest the way water does over the smoothed rock on the bank of a river. You can hear it much clearer now that your heartbeat isn’t thrumming in your ears. 

“Can it wait?” Kyle glances towards you. “Wanted to make sure they made it out alright.”

Another chip at that loneliness, but you don’t want to jeopardize anything with him and Price—who you assume is his boss—even if you’d prefer he continues lessening the weight holding you down beneath your rib cage.

“You’ve done enough, Kyle,” you say, pointing behind you with your free hand, “I can see my car from here, anyway. I’ll be fine.”

“We cannae let ‘em go without makin’ sure, Simon,” Johnny insists, echoing Kyle’s sentiment and steamrolling over your assurance. 

Simon, finally a name for the face, or at least the parts of it you can see. Kyle and Johnny had shed their costumes, yet he wears his like a second skin. His stiff demeanor from earlier seems more of a costume than anything he’s wearing. 

Simon glances over your shoulder to where you’d pointed, dark eyes impossible to read. Johnny turns up the dial on his charm. At least that’s what you think he’s doing when he gives Simon a wide-eyed, puppy-like expression, pressing his palms together in front of his face and tipping his head forward. The picture would be complete if he sunk onto his knees with a bible in his hands.

He has the energy of the youngest son in the family. The visual brings a laugh tumbling from your lips and Simon relents, shoving his hands in his pockets.

“Go on then, we’ll watch from here.”

So you do, waving at the group, who murmur their goodbyes, and then walking to your car. 

You walk slower than you need to, relishing in the experience of people wanting to ensure you made it anywhere safe. It’s a luxury. You strive for it like people dream about vacationing or owning a house. Unfortunately, time stands still for no one.

Chancing a look at the group of men as you climb into the driver’s seat, you find six pairs of eyes. Kyle smiles broadly, you get another wink and smirk from Johnny, and Simon blinks at you from behind his mask. You barely know them and yet their reactions are all so distinctly them. You beam, holding up the plush skeleton and waving one last time like an Olympic athlete holding up their medals before resting it on the passenger's seat.

Alone again, you push your key into the ignition and your car comes to life. The dashboard bathes everything in a golden glow. Come morning, when you’re bathed in a similar hue by the rising sun, you’ll think about this night. You’ll think about them, each of them, and you’ll wonder. Hugging your prize from the night, you will implant the memory into the grooves of your brain, where it can sit safe and snug, just as looked after as you’d been. You’ll wonder if any of them will end up in your life again, and hope the answer to that question is ‘yes’.