#first of all. i fucking LOVE this perspective there’s something about a fish eye lens in art that just GAGS me so good

[gothsuguru]

@teddybeartoji @twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat

toji for oomf

[sciapod]

Bathtub Photoshoot 💦

Pairing: Henry Cavill x First Person-POV (Female, or at least X wears a bra and has breasts)

Summary: Little private photosesh' with Henners and then some.

Warnings: Dry humping but let's just call it grinding. Edging. 18+ to be safe!! Contains smut. You might be able to find the tiniest bit of angst. And bit of fluff.

Word count: 2.5K

Not beta’ed! I take full responsibility for this fuckup.

Inspired/prompted by this post by @cavillfics

Masterlist

I obviously don't own Henry Cavill, nor do I know him IRL, so it goes without saying that this is a figment of my imagination.

(I took the liberty to edit the photo just a bit and don’t know who to credit for the original edit. Let me know if you know, so I can give credit where it's due.)

Happy reading 💦

---

“Babe, I've got an idea! Can you do something for me, please?”

When I heard you coming through the front door, I rushed to meet you there. You were finally home again and was hanging your jacket on the coat rack when I found you.

“Oh, well,” you reply, “I really want to just lean back, maybe take a shower or something. It’s been a long week, babe. And hello, by the way.”

You step over to me, reach around my waist and pull me against your firm body.

“Mhm, you smell lovely,” you whisper in my hair. I sigh, then wiggle myself free of your embrace.

“Henry, listen,” I look up at you with my best attempt at puppy eyes. You breathe deeply and turn your face, scratching mine with your stubble. It sends shivers through my body.

“Okay,” you hum as your hands roam my body, finding their way to my bare thighs then sneaking up beneath my robe, “tell me.”

I grab your hips and press my core against your thigh as I lean backwards, looking up at you, “I want to take some pictures … of you.”

Your face goes through a range of emotions; surprised, suspicious, smirking, friendly and finally incredibly charismatic: Front-page-style smile.

“That’s the one!” I say with excitement.

“Which one?” you tease, furrowing your brow and looking all suspicious again.

“You know perfectly well, you buffoon!” I say, as I slap your chest playfully.

My entire body lifts when you laugh. You kiss my forehead and twirl some of my hair between a few fingers. Your eyes shift, gazing at various areas of my face. I sigh, then reach for your hands, the one playing with my hair and the other, which I find gently caressing the lace of my panties.

I hold your hands between us and look up at my man.

“You do realize, of course, that you are basically a Greek god carved out of stone.”

“I have been told so, yes.”

“And you do realize that every artist needs a muse, a model, to create from.”

“I have a faint idea of that, yes,” you say, smirking down at me.

“And I happen to be short of a project, and subject, for my portfolio.”

“I see,” your smile broadens, “but what does that have to do with me?”

“Henry!”

My declining patience must have been obvious somewhere in my face or perhaps my exclamation, because you burst out laughing, throwing your head back as you do so. I can’t help but melt a little.

“Tell me what you need me to do, darling,” you say, stroking my hands with your thumbs. I feel warmth spread through my chest. Your face softens and I feel the warmth spread further down.

“Fuck,” I breathe, casting my eyes to the floor. I’m suddenly filled with all kinds of insecurities, imposter syndrome and such, but there’s a reason why you’re my man. You sense it immediately and lift my hands to your lips, kissing them sincerely.

“You’ve got this, babe.”

I sigh, “I know, sweetheart. It's just… Urgh.”

You kiss my forehead.

“Tell me your idea.”

“I…” My voice breaks. You lift my chin up with a single finger, as if it were suddenly light as a feather, forcing me to look into your striking blue eyes.

“I don’t know,” I finally exclaim. “I didn’t have a concrete idea. I just knew that I wanted you to be in the photos.”

You smile, almost apologetically, “Okay, look. I really want to help. But I’m so damn tired. I’ve got an idea, though, of how we may be able to hit two birds with one stone.”

“Okaay?” I say, a slight tinge of hope seeping into my core again.

“I need a bath–”

“–I can’t take a nude picture of you!”

You laugh again, but shake your head, “No, silly. Let me finish.”

My cheeks flush scarlet.

“I need a bath, but instead of taking a shower, I’ll jump in the tub. Once in there, you can have me do whatever you want.”

I squint my eyes, then see a lightbulb flash on.

“YES!” I almost yell, running my hands up your torso and leaning in for a kiss.

“Yes,” I repeat, then press my lips against your sculpted ones. It is as if your lips curl to a smile amidst the kiss.

“Yes,” I say one last time, meeting your eyes, “If you get the water running, I’ll collect my gear.”

Your hands go wandering about on my hips again, dragging my robe up and making my hairs stand on end. You look down at me with a confident smile, saying, “great minds think alike.”

I fight off the urge to kiss you again and instead draw away from you. You catch the waistband of my robe and it slides off as I step away, revealing the new set of lingerie I’m wearing underneath. I stand, looking at you with what I imagine is the expression of a suspicious feline. You, on the other hand, make a low whistle and shake your head in slow motion, clearly surprised and pleased to see what I was hiding beneath. Then you nod toward the living room, signalling I get on with finding my camera.

It takes me a few minutes to find the right lens. When I enter the bathroom, you’re in the process of unbuckling your belt. The tap is running and there’s already a bit of water in the tub.

“Wait,” I say, stopping you just as you’re about to pull your jeans down, “I think I want you in the water dressed.”

You stare for a moment, shrug, say “sure,” then proceed to tug your jeans over your perky bum again.

“Right, erm,” I think for a moment, “No, you know what? Lose the pants, but keep the t-shirt on.”

“Lose the pants,” you repeat and let your jeans fall to the floor. As you stand back up, I realize something.

“We might have a problem,” I say, eyeing the hefty bulge in your boxers.

You follow my gaze, noticing the same problem, then nod in agreement.

“But then again,” you say, “what did you expect, looking like that?” you hint at my open robe and lingerie.

We both shrug, then burst laughing.

“I guess we’ll just have to make it work!” I say, “Now, in the tub with you, buddy.”

You feel the temperature of the water and deciding that it’s decent, turn off the tap, step in and lie down. There’s not a lot of water in there, but I’m assuming it will do. You look up at me with anticipation, “Now what?”

I squint at you, finding the bulge slightly distracting, basically towering above the waterline like another Burj Khalifa. Obviously, you notice my lack of response.

“Hey, babe!” you say, snapping me out of it. I feel my nether region clench.

“Okay, okay!” I shake my head to wake up. You shake yours too, smirking at me.

“We need to do something about that,” I say.

“I can try to hide it?” you suggest.

“How?” I squint. It’s a mastodon of a package you has stored down there, I think to myself.

“Anyway, I need to find a position to photograph you from.”

I begin taking random photos of you from various angles and perspectives, simultaneously adjusting the settings on the camera as I do so. Meanwhile, you roll around to one side, then the other, then back again. The squeaking sounds of your body rubbing against the sides of the tub while you change poses makes the whole situation rather comedic, and I'm convinced you're doing it even worse on purpose. Determined to be somewhat professional, I try to ignore your distractions.

“It’s a good thing we have such good lighting in here,” I say, gazing around the small room, pretending to be focused and ignorant of your attempts at sabotage.

“How do you want me, babe? I feel like… I don’t even know? A fish out of water,” you say, doubting your own wording, “or something like that.”

I sigh, “I know, I get it. I need to think. We’ve also still got that… situation… going on.” I gesture at the, no less apparent, tent between your legs.

“Okay,” you say calmly, “I’ll just lie back and relax, while you think of something.”

“Good.”

As you settle into a comfortable position, I mentally run through the various “golden rules” of photography that I can remember.

Then it’s as if I notice the obvious. The absolute god-like adonis carved in marble in front of me: My initial inspiration. Your white t-shirt, soaked from all the turning and splashing around you did, is sticking to your chest and abs, enhancing the lines of your muscular torso, yet still in a perfectly suggestive fashion; somewhat similar to the drapery you see on these same sculptures. In a fit of impulse, I crawl up to stand on the edges of the tub.

You open your eyes –awoken by my scramblings– fear in your eyes as you reach for me, “be careful, babe!”

“No no, darling! Stay put!” I say, “I’m perfectly safe. It’s dry. My feet are dry. I’m stable, but thank you.” I smile, reassuringly. Suspicious yet accepting, you lower your arms and lie back down. I notice your eyes trail down my exposed body. Lust now clear as daylight in your gaze.

“I think I’ve got the photo soon, babe, then we’re done,” I explain. “Just close your eyes for me.”

You shake your head and smile, then do as I said.

Your head rests on the back of the tub, but your fingers begin fidgeting … around your nether region.

“Are you uncomfortable?” I ask between photos.

“No…” you smirk, eyes still closed, but you shift and rest your hands awkwardly on your stomach instead.

“We can’t have that,” I say, “you’re covering the main part of the photo,” I tease.

You open your eyes, still smirking but not saying a word.

“And you’re revealing, exposing, what we need to hide,” I try to hold back my laugh.

“Okay,” I continue, “what about… what if you hold your t-shirt at the hem and stretch it down to cover your crotch. Place your other hand casually beside it. Yeah, like that! Exactly, babe. Beautiful.”

I take a couple of photos and look at them on the tiny screen.

“Right, hold that pose, but just… kinda relax, if you can. I’ll take a few shots more and then you’re done!”

You close your eyes again and begin taking deep breaths, lessening the tension that must have been building in your shoulders over the last few days. As peace falls upon your face and body, I take the last photos. After quickly reviewing them on the tiny screen, I decide that I’m done. I turn off my camera and place it on the shelf above the tub before crawling down to sit on the edge of the tub, my feet in the water between your legs.

“Okay, it’s a wrap!”

Your eyes flash open and you let go of your t-shirt. The fabric bounces back, revealing your hairy tummy, teasing me. You look up at me with mischief, then give your member a squeeze.

“Get down here,” you say, almost ferocious in your voice.

I feel myself get all giddy with sudden anticipation as you rise like Poseidon from the water. Before I can do anything other than yelp, you pull me down onto you and with a splash and a thud I land against your rock-hard body. I'm instantly soaked.

“Finally,” you mutter, drenching my face and neck with hungry kisses. Your hands tease the collar of my robe before sliding it over my shoulders. Your eyes explore the curves of my upper body, then you adjust me so that I sit straddled upon you. You don’t speak a word, but your eyes and body say everything I need to know.

I feel your girth throbbing against me. You slide my robe all the way off and without taking your eyes off me, you cast it aside. Then your hands slide up my body. You cup my breasts tenderly, admiring the lace and how the new style of bra suits my breasts. You lick your lips as your thumbs begin stroking my hardening nipples. I sigh and begin grinding against the tip of your member.

You sit up and proceed to kiss and bite the flesh of my breasts. Gently holding the lace aside with your fingers, you capture my nipples between your teeth, ever so gently, before circling your tongue around them with exquisite attention. While squeezing my breasts together, you kiss them one after the other, back and forth, before venturing up to my collarbone and neck. All I can do is whimper and moan.

Then you grasp my hair, pulling my head back. Between kisses and bites on my exposed neck, you breathe damp, sultry words onto my skin. Expressions of how I’ve been a tease, how patient you’ve been and how much you want me now. I want to answer, but I can’t do anything but mutter incoherencies; your throbbing cock eagerly pressing against my core and thus stealing all of my vocabulary.

My breath quickens as I grind harder, cursing the fabrics that keep our cores from meeting, merging. Then you push me towards you, allowing our lips to meet in hungry kisses. My bra loosens. You must have managed to open and take it off me with your other hand, before also casting it aside. You grab at my liberated breasts, then sit up and pull your drenched t-shirt over your head. It lands on the bathroom floor with a splash. My hands instinctively seek the wet fur of your stomach and chest, momentarily squeezing your pecs, then wander south again.

Your eyes read pure hunger and you buck your hips. As I fall back down from the jump, my core meets the powerful strength of your pelvis, bucking yet again. I gasp, overcome by a mixture of arousal and humor. You buck again, a laugh escapes me and somehow, after a few times of this, you’ve managed to free your erection from your boxers. I didn’t notice, but at some point you must have turned on the tap again, because I see you turn it back off. I guess this increased level of water also explains the more slow-motion-like sensation I experience as I land back down on your pelvis; a somewhat softer landing than before. In my own defence, I was entranced and my mind was not functioning at 100%, hence the questionable description. Anyway, both our hips are now submerged under water and I simply shake my head at your mischievous ways. You smirk and pull me down to a deep kiss, slapping my ass through the water, making more water splash all over the place. Everything in the room is certainly wet by now.

I grind against your exposed and infinitely hard cock as your fingers slider under the lace. Your hands grab my cheeks with determination, enhancing the force and enabling you to better thrust against my grinding motion. The friction is causing short-circuits in my brain, making me see colours that aren’t there. My first climax is staggeringly near, but just before I get to release, you buck your hips again, making me scoot off your cock. A devious grin is smeared across your chiseled face.

“You had me waiting, sweetheart. Now it’s my turn to tease.”

---

Thanks for reading my shitpost! Please leave a comment of your thoughts, however nonsensical they may be 💜🙏

Tags in the reblog 🖤Let me know if you want to be added or removed from the list.

[silveraccent]

Running From The Pasta || Grace & Connor

TIMING: After this solo, a week or so ago. PARTIES: @connorspiracy SUMMARY: Grace and Connor run into one another while Grace is covered in pasta sauce. They run into some rancid ghost vibes and make a break for it, but not until they reveal a bit of their traumas to each other. TRIGGER: Death, blood, minor car accident. 

Grace wasn’t sure what she saw. It couldn’t have been Renee. She wouldn’t let herself believe that it was. That was something else, bent and broken-- years of distance put between them, albeit forced, unnecessary, heart breaking. The farther she ran, the more angry she felt. What kind of cruel trick? Grace finally found it in herself to stop running, to sit at a bench, faded greens and silvers, the paint having been chipped away by years of wear and tear. The sky was still a deep violet, and the fog made it hard for her to see beyond five feet. It hung in the air, and Grace swore it would swallow her whole. She hung her head in her hands, the heels of her hands digging into her eyes. The smell of pasta sauce burned her nose, and made her feel sick. Taking a deep breath, she leaned back against the bench and stared up at the sky before she rounded her gaze to land on somebody-- a familiar face that she had seen online. “Connor, right?” She called to him as she glanced at the camera in his hand. “Are you filming this?” Though, could she blame him? It was unbelievable, the way the town looked right now. 

Strange things happening in White Crest was the norm. So much so that Connor wondered if they could even be called strange at all. Regardless, it was always a little alarming when a terrified girl covered in a sticky red substance runs past you, seemingly holding back sobs of fear. He followed a few steps as she half-collapsed on a bench, only realising when she pointed it out that he was still holding his camera. “I was filming the fog.” He closed his lens cap, crouching near her to get a better look. Now that he was closer, he could smell the overwhelming and almost putrid scent of tomato. At least it wasn’t blood. “I thought you were bleeding. Are you okay?” 

“The fog. Right.” Grace dug the heels of her hands into her eyes, a move to make what she had seen flit from her vision. She still couldn’t believe her eyes. She bit back another whimper mixed with tears as she looked up at him. “I’m not bleeding, no…” She looked down at her hands and wiped them against her pants, tomato sauce seen despite the dark clothes. “It’s pasta sauce.” She laughed, and she realized how stupid she now sounded. “I’m fine, I just… dropped something and it scared the shit out of me.” She looked up to meet Connor’s gaze. “I look weird, right? I mean, I’d prefer people think I’m running around covered in blood, not pasta sauce, because…” she trailed off. 

“Whoa, whoa, it’s alright, love. Slow down.” Connor stepped closer to her, taking a seat next to her on the bench. “Sort of puts all the weird shit in perspective when someone tells you they’d rather be covered in blood than pasta sauce,” he said with a slight chuckle, just trying to make light of a weird, difficult situation. “I think I have an overnight bag with some spare clothes in the car, if you wanna change…” He did his best to not make that sound creepy. “People have been talking about all sorts of weird things popping up and scaring them recently. If it helps, you’re not alone.” 

“Does it?” Grace let out a shaky laugh. Maybe it wasn’t the right thing to say. The joke would go over the heads of most. She leaned into the bench and looked over at him, her eyebrows pulled up at his words. “Am I not? Did something happen to you?” Grace looked down at her bag, its usual tan fabric now smeared red. She frowned slightly. She could still feel the burn in her eyes from her crying fit, but Connor’s general concerned nature overlapped her fear, and she let it. “I think I’ll take you up on the clothes change,” Grace nodded slowly. They’d be big on her, but she wasn’t ready to go home yet. She could go to the office, maybe. Sleep on her floor. She had an extra pair of clothes there. “If it’s okay.” She looked back over at him and offered a smile, though she wasn’t sure if it was genuine. 

“I mean, most people would just pick the other option, I think,” Connor answered with a little chuckle. He could tell this poor girl was really shaken up. “Come on.” He gestured for her to follow, leading her to his car, a spacious Land Rover Discovery. Luckily, he always had everything on-hand that he might need if he decided to have an overnight shoot, towels, dry shampoo, baby wipes, and spare clothes. He was a smaller guy, so the clothing wouldn’t be too out of place on her. “I usually lay the back seats down flat if I’m not driving with anyone so I can have all my equipment there, so there should be plenty of room.” He unlocked the car, handing her anything he thought might be useful, then closed the door most of the way and turned his back so she could change comfortably. “So… what happened, anyway?” 

Grace followed him reluctantly. At this point, she’s not sure if she’s stupid for trusting strangers, or if she has the ability to tell if somebody genuinely means her harm. It didn’t seem like he did. As they approached his car, she raised an eyebrow. It was nicer than anything she had ever owned. Youtube must have paid nicely, or maybe he was a rich kid with a dream. She glanced over at him for a moment, then looked down as he began handing over the things that she needed to successfully get rid of her tomato sodden clothes. “Oh, thanks.” She gave him a meek smile, her eyes still burning. She slid into the car and did her best to clean herself up. “Uh…” Grace mumbled as she pulled his shirt over her head. “You know all this fog? I think it’s doing something weird to my head.” Grace wanted to tell him more, but she was hesitant. He seemed to know a lot already. Once she was finished cleaning up, she slid out of the car, her dirty clothes crumpled into her tote bag. She tucked it to her chest and offered him a smile. “I saw an old friend who I shouldn’t have seen,” Grace said after a moment as she lowered her bag to her waistline, not wanting to smell anymore of the tomato sauce. 

Connor was respectful. He kept his back turned and made sure to give her plenty of room so she could change in private and not feel as if he was hovering over her shoulder. It was probably a little weird, inviting someone he didn’t know back to her car. He wouldn’t have blamed her if she’d turned him down. “Like, making you see things?” She wasn’t the first person to have said something like that. Some of his regular ghosts had reported being able to be seen by all kinds of people, then there had been the Fog Fish he’d seen with Ariana. “This might be a bit personal,” he started. “But the old friend. Is she… dead?” 

“Yeah, making me see things,” Grace said after a moment. She wasn’t sure what she saw, but she knew how it made her feel. Terrified, distraught, angry. She held the bag closer to her stomach, using it as a comfort item. She looked at him warily as he asked his question. Of course he knew, it was what his entire youtube channel was about. She cleared her throat and nodded. “Yeah, she is. Has been for awhile, so why--” Grace stopped for a moment. She didn’t want to ask why Renee would still be hanging around, or if whatever was happening in White Crest just.. No, there was no explanation. “Do you know what’s going on?” Grace asked him after a pregnant pause. “The truth, if you have it.” 

“I think we’re all seeing things.” In the distance, Connor heard the galloping of horses hooves. He lifted his head to see what looked strangely like the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse run through a nearby intersection, chasing down some poor bastard on a bicycle. “Ghosts, non-ghosts, other weird shit…” He shook his head. “Isn’t that just another day in White Crest? I don’t know what’s causing it, but I know it’s not just you.” 

Grace looked up just in time to see the headless horseman. Grace’s eyebrows pulled together. That couldn’t be real, right? “That…” Grace bit the inside of her cheek. She wanted to believe it, that way it’d be easier. Things would be easier if she didn’t second guess it-- there was so much evidence already that this was all real. She swallowed thickly. “I guess you’re right, it’s everyone.” It was obvious that everyone had been dealing with their own issues, that they were being chased by what seemed to be their own fears. “Have you seen anything that’s for you?” She asked as she cut her gaze away from the horse. 

Connor couldn’t help but stare. Fortunately, the horses kept going, right on past the intersection, continuing to chase the person on the bike. He cleared his throat, swallowing the large lump that resided there. “Me?” He looked at her a little dumbly, as if he didn’t understand the question. “No, no. What would I possibly have to see?” And of course, fate saw fit to answer that question for him. 

“Connor! Con-man, you little bastard,” an older man with an almost indiscernible accent called from across the street, and Connor’s eyes widened. Uncle Joe. Wielding a massive fucking baseball bat. “You exorcised me? You really fucking exorcised me, you little shit? I oughta beat you black and blue.” 

“Get in the car!” He half-shoved Grace inside, pulling the doors shut and hitting the lock button as quickly as he could. Uncle Joe was fighting his way through traffic to cross the road and get to them, and glass shattered, filling the vehicle as Connor pulled away from the curb. “Shit! Are you okay?!” 

Things seemed to be changing quickly. Grace wasn’t sure if she was allowing for Connor’s inquisitive nature to rub off on her or not, but Renee was half-forgotten. Maybe it was the fact that she changed her clothes. Grace quirked an eyebrow and simply nodded. She wasn’t sure if she’d like somebody poking into what she had seen, though she had already opened up to it. Grace turned at the sound of yelling, however, and her eyes widened at the sight of a ghostly man, baseball bat in his hands. “Uh--” Grace said under her breath, but before she could react, Connor was pushing her into his car. She obediently followed his directions and threw herself into the seat, her bag falling to the floor of the car. “I’m fine--” Grace held onto the edge of her seat. “You said you didn’t have anything to see, I’m taking that wasn’t true?” She asked as she turned in her seat to look behind her as the ghost ran after them, yelling words she couldn’t quite hear.

“Well, I didn’t think I did have anything to see!” Bloody America and their cars on the wrong side of the road. Connor was still getting used to it at the best of times, never mind when he was trying to drive through thick fog with a spirit chasing him. “Fuck sake.” He narrowly dodged another vehicle whose fog lights seemed to be failing, and he prayed for his own to hold on. A gaggle of zoo animals seemed to have escaped and were having their own little fucking circus at the interchange, and Uncle Joe was still waving his baseball bat, chasing Connor at an impossible speed for someone on foot. “I hope your fucking seatbelt is on.” He took another turn, way too harshly. “It’s my Uncle. I exorcised him. Obviously he isn’t happy about it.”

Grace stared ahead, her heart in her throat. She had wanted quiet when she moved to White Crest. Not whatever this was. She could feel fear from Connor, maybe something else, too. Grace let out a yelp as a vehicle swerved towards them, but Connor was able to avoid it. “What in the hell--” Grace twisted to look out the side window, eyes widened at the sight of the animals. Her seatbelt wasn’t on. Grace quickly clicked it over her chest and held onto it tightly. “Obviously not.” Grace let out a breath as she braced herself, half-expecting the ghostly pack of wolves to interfere with them as they drove forward, but it went through the car and they continued on their way. “How are we going to get away from that?” Grace asked as she looked in the side mirror. Her voice sounded entirely too calm for what was currently happening. 

“Fuck! Bloody fucking hell--” Connor didn’t know where the hell he was going. He just knew that they had to get the hell out of there. He took another turn, as if randomly changing directions would confuse the spirit. He didn’t exactly want to lead Uncle Joe home, but that was the only place he could think to go. Grace was right. They couldn’t outrun him. “Sorry. I’m sorry.” Connor mumbled to himself. He closed his eyes, bringing the car to a stop. Uncle Joe swung at the wing mirror, sending it flying in smashed plastic over the side of the road. “You’re not real. And you tried to kill my dad,” he said, staring at the man. “I said I was sorry.” Before the apparition could say anything else, Connor reversed back, just far enough to adjust his angle and open the driver’s side door, smashing it into Uncle Joe’s face and sending him falling in a heap of his own blood. 

“What the fuck, you little bastard!” Uncle Joe gargled through his own blood. “I taught you everything you know. Everything you have is because of me! Your dad abandoned us.” 

“You tried to kill him! You almost broke his neck!” Connor yelled, now clutching the baseball bat Uncle Joe had dropped. This wasn’t fucking real. Uncle Joe was gone, and even if he was still around, no ghost would have that much blood for him to spill. “Now I… am trying… to get this poor girl home,” Connor grunted, collapsing in frustration against a nearby bench. “So would you kindly bugger off?” 

“You’re a little bastard,” Uncle Joe murmured from his position on the concrete, trying to get to his feet. “I never shoulda appeared to you, you know that? Your damn dad and my unfinished business. I shoulda let you think you were a fucking freak.” But he got up and started walking away, and Connor let out a heavy sigh, utterly exhausted.

Grace held onto her seatbelt as Connor came to an abrupt stop. She forced herself back in her seat and turned to watch as the ghost swung his bat, plastic shattering through the air. Grace leaned into her seat, away from the two. She watched in shock and terror as Connor began to speak. Something about his dad, had she heard that right? Grace swallowed thickly and let out a small yelp as she leaned into her own door, the car reversing, and then the car door coming into contact with the man’s face. Grace’s eyes widened at the sight. This couldn’t be real, could it? There was no way-- Connor had just, he had just killed somebody. 

No, she reminded herself. This isn’t real-- it’s real, but he’s not real, he’s already dead. A fear manifested by Connor, that’s how it had been explained. Grace watched as Connor took to a nearby bench. She was unsure of what to do, but the ghost was gone. She tentatively opened the door and rounded the front of the vehicle. “Are you okay?” She asked, voice shaky. 

Connor was barely aware of Grace approaching him, but he looked up as she did. He wasn’t much of a crier, but there were a few tears threatening to make an appearance. He pushed them back, wiping his face with his hands. “Yeah, that was just really bloody weird, you know?” He looked over the wrecked car. “No wonder insurance premiums are so high in this flipping town.” He stood up, climbing back in. “Come on. Doubt anyone’s going to pull me over for a broken mirror with all this shit going on. I’ll take you home.” 

Grace wasn’t sure what to say, she wanted to say something, but she wasn’t sure how to address it. She bit the inside of her cheek and simply nodded at his words, not wanting to push it any further. Of course she wanted answers, but things were strange enough without her prompting him for answers that it was quite possible he didn’t have. “Honestly, yeah.” Grace carded her fingers through her hair, her hand shaking slightly. “Probably not,” Grace said after a moment, following him back to the car. Once they were inside, she twisted to put her seatbelt on. A tiger, or maybe it wasn’t a tiger at all-- maybe it was something else, something unseen, began to devour Uncle Joe. Grace straightened forward, her gaze on the road. Maybe she would leave that out. 

[abundantchewtoys]

HS Epi Meat, p5 reaction

Meat Page 5.

We might be due another perspective switch - unless the plot stays with John until he's assembled all his friends.

When John goes to pick up Rose, it’ll probably be on LOLAR. Terezi might still be there, if she hasn’t gone clownhunting just yet.

If so, perhaps we’ll get to see whether Rose ‘n Terezi’s migraine was really due to the substance abuse + caleidoscopic colours of LOLAR + glitches… Or whether it was due to the GO timeline “supposed to” have gone differently, with John’s current retcon being the thing missing to happen. It takes a bit of effort, remembering what everyone was exactly up to on this part of the GO timeline and what would be a fortunate time for John to take it off the rails. For Kanaya, that might very well be the moment Jane set up her literal shop on LOFAF, selling her all those blood potions, for instance.

For Dirk, it might be before his conversation with Arquiusprite.

I'm getting the feeling that John might be jumping to exactly those moments in the scenes where the characters were at their lowest, self-esteem wise. Giving them a literal second breath. ;)

Not sure what we can expect from the ghost side of things though. I think they might not be duplicated, leading us to meet up with (Vriska) as we knew her, punk cut and all. Even though GO Terezi's ghost will be there with her too.

I'm half convinced Calliope will get copied somehow, but not entirely sure. The only 'real' duplicate Calliope had already, besides Alt Calliope, was her dreamself. He could snatch the body, but I was under the impression Caliborn consumed it in a literal sense to establish his dominance over the body.

Meanwhile, it occurred to me to that Andrew Hussie (the author avator) will make a comeback, probably a background cameo. I've only now realized that he's a literal ghost writer of his own story right now, in-canon. While outside of canon, he’s more becoming like Stan Lee, executive producing stories using characters he designed.

Anyway, let's start this up.

---

"The stands of the Cantown Memorial Arena" Okay, my first thought was this takes place on the meteor, but yeah, it's a building named presumably after the literal Cantown WV build in his station, back on Earth. Or the Exile Town that Bec Noir massacred. Though, does this indicate a perspective switch back to Roxy... Or is the CMA where Rumble in the Pumpkin Patch is recorded? Probably the latter, meaning the perspective is switching back to Dave! Uh, the alpha version, I guess I should call him? Post-canon, adult Dave?

"His shit eating was so brutal that no one, except maybe Jake, cares that he’s taking a phone call in the middle of a live broadcast." So, was it staged, or did Jake really get a power boost, coming into his role as the Page?

Also, I feel like if Karkat's run for president gets announced by Dave on live television, "and the crowd goes wild" will apply here.

"Dave takes a seat on the couch, right in Karkat’s butt groove." Okay, so he's not going just yet. ... Karkat's butt groove is available because the latter absconded the fuck out last we saw him, hahah.

"a piece of absolute garbage." Callback secured.

"DAVE: while the beatdown you just received was as thorough as it was humiliating im afraid as usual the solution to this problem should probably not involve your decapitation" While Dirk might be the one to keep this beaten dead horse of an in-joke going, Dave isn't going to be the one to cut its head off and end its misery. :P

"DAVE: jake just kicked your ass DAVE: thats really all there is to say on the matter" AWWWWW yessss, hahahahah. Dirk's laid down, on the ground, on his smartphone, just like Dave was after his beatdown by Bro. Awesome callback.

"DAVE: its really amazing how this meme we have going here continues to be exactly as funny as the day it was established DIRK: Isn’t it always though? DAVE: yeah" That's Strider Irony at its finest for you. You never can be entirely sure non-sincerity is what's taking place here.

" DAVE: how DID you get your ass kicked so bad DAVE: jake sucks and his raps are fucking awful" Oh, scratch that thing about his power level, then. ... The rapbots didn't join in to beat Dirk down, did they? ... Though I would like to see either them or their zilly versions again. :P

"

On the TV, Dirk makes an elegant hand sign that once might have represented solidarity with some ancient coastal rap group but now has been utterly divorced from its cultural context here on Earth C." Is it a sign associated with... the ICP? Yes, I guess whatever 'references' the kids make get picked up as divine decree...

"The camera pans away from him and over the crowd. It zooms in on a young crocodile wearing an oversized T-shirt with Jake’s highly marketable ass plastered over it and the phrase “Tally ho” written in big bubble letters." ... including stuff that was already dated when the gods were still actual kids. (By which I mean the phrase, not Jake's marketable ass.)

"DIRK: Holding back a little to achieve certain results doesn’t necessarily mean you’re participating in a farce or rigging the event. DIRK: We do this all the time. We hold back our thoughts, our true feelings, our full potential. We disguise how much we know about what and when, for many purposes. To ease relations, to let others behave naturally and make up their minds without undue intervention. To wait for the right moments to show our hands, to pick our battles. " Dirk is still overthinking things. :P He's also still a schemer, even though he's grown more mature. I think in this case, he might be trying to keep up Jake's taste for adventure and hone his skills? That might be related to the fact that he's one of the few in the know of what John is up to (also a thing he's withholding right now), and he might be trying to get Jake battle-ready in case he needs to be. ... In case he doesn't believe they'll stay irrelevant to the plot.

"DAVE: my dog you are full of some SHIT today arent you DIRK: Absolutely." It's a good thing Dave can see Dirk typing, otherwise I might have asked whether Dirk may have reinstated an autoresponder to answer when he's busy. :P

"DIRK: And when it comes to theater, there are just as many reasons for restraint. To build tension. To set the stage. To give the people someone to root against." Okay, that's actually kind of meta. Also, in-story, it might mean Dirk is deliberately trying to come off as weaker, to get people to boo at Jake so he can play hero?

"DAVE: i can see you on tv DAVE: theyre booing you dude" Okay, never mind.

"The excitable salamander manning the camera switches to a fish-eye lens for some unfathomable reason, giving the whole exchange an air of demented absurdity. Dirk’s sunglasses distort and stretch to dominate the entire screen." I'm all here for NPC races doing menial labor half-way competently. :P Also, I feel like there should be some sort of visual callback to that image of Dirk's sunglasses. Something to do with the black hole from Problem Sleuth expanding to suck the entire universe up, which was reflected in the Stiller shades, and the event in itself is being called back to now, in the Black Hole sucking up the Furthest Ring!

"JAKE: What about the agitated rabble? Theyre starting to throw things. DIRK: I don’t know. Do a dance or something. Sing a song. DIRK: They love anything you do. JAKE: Ummm. JAKE: Ok sounds stupid but ill try." Using Jake's charisma as crowd control? Dirk, you beautiful mastermind.

"Jake tips an imaginary hat toward center stage and begins doing the Charleston." Hah, right, this might be a callback to that other Page dancing old-time dances, hahah, Tavros after he assembled the ghost army.

"Just as Dirk predicted, the crowd immediately loses its shit, except for a single carapacian in the front row, who continues to glower at Dirk with an expression of absolute and total contempt." If Jack hadn't remained in the session, I would've designated this guy as his great-whatever-grandchild.

"DAVE: why do you want people to hate you so much DAVE: its fucked up DIRK: You’re reading way too much into it." I don't necessarily believe that.

"DIRK: If I wanted another round of embarrassingly indulgent and mutually masturbatory psychoanalysis, I would have called my daughter instead. DAVE: hm DAVE: do i need to point out how fucking weird what you just said was or can that start going without saying at this point" This. This is Homestuck. This entire exchange.

" DIRK: The point is, playing myself up as a villain figure in this hacky rap pageant has nothing to do with getting people to dislike me. Besides, everyone loves a good villain. When they boo, they don’t really mean it." That has me thinking of Thog, a villain from Order of the Stick, actually. But yeah, Caliborn, Condy and others were really good villains. Doesn't mean we didn't mean it when we cursed them, though.

"DIRK: I think you’d be surprised by how popular I actually am. DAVE: i dunno man" At some point, playing the villain stops being a role, if you're too thorough in antagonizing the crowd. Dirk may have gone overboard here - in his role in the pageant I mean, I don't think anyone loves their god any less. Just one more way to show that, victory state or not, their original issues still come into play and challenge them to grow.

"DIRK: The point is, this is much less about me, and more about providing a foil for Jake’s heroism and charisma. DIRK: It’s very important that his popularity continues to be cultivated, to maximize his political capital. DAVE: political capital" ... Oooooh! Thinking three steps ahead of everyone again, nice going Dirk! I think Dirk might even have foreseen Dave rallying Karkat to stand against Jane, but I wonder which side he'll be choosing!

" DAVE: what the fuck are... DAVE: ok how long have you known about the jane thing DAVE: i mean is this something you have been planning for like DAVE: a long time or DIRK: Planning is such an intense word." Oh, he's trying to pull the strings again, is he? What game is he playing then, what policies does he want to instate, if any? ... Is Dirk a supposed xenophone too, or just playing to the tune of the largest group of swing voters?

" DAVE: jane is a shitty candidate dude DAVE: shes going to be so shitty DIRK: I thought you’d feel that way." ... Pfff I just realized Dirk wasn't typing, since this was a phone call. He's saying this all out loud! Typing's the old way of conversation, we discarded it for the most part, everyone has their Gift of Gab now. Well, hopefully at least Dave's part isn't being recorded and broadcast.

"DIRK: I respectfully disagree. DAVE: i get shes a good friend of yours and all but even you have to admit how far up her own ass she is DIRK: Of course. I consider it to be among her best qualifications for the job." Dirk might just be thinking: a self-absorbed candidate won't notice being pulled around. Even though she's, you know, his dear friend and all, he's still planning on manipulating her. :/ Old habits and such.

"DAVE: christ DAVE: ok if nothing else have you at least taken into account the DEVASTATION to the economy this will cause???" Strider Irony(tm).

"DIRK: Dave, I think if you search your soul, you’ll come to the same conclusion I have. Jane is just what this planet needs. DIRK: We’ve all had our fun here, but it’s easy to overlook the fact that civilization on Earth C is hardly a sustainable proposition. DIRK: Just beneath the surface, it’s quite a dangerous and unstable place." Oh, cool, so Dirk was acting on the same things Dave noticed, just having drawn different conclusions. Guess there's more to playing god as a winner of Sburb than sitting on your butt all day long, huh?

"DAVE: i know that DAVE: which is why actually i think it would be cool to have a president that is good instead of bad DIRK: He’s not as great as you think. DAVE: what" See, I know Dirk'll say Karkat, but I kind of wish he'd say Obama. :P

"DAVE: who DAVE: obama?? DAVE: how dare you" XD PFFFFFffffhah, okay, should've seen that coming.

"DIRK: I’m happy for both of you, really. It’s nice that you encourage and support each other in this way. But you’re sending him on a fool’s errand which can only end badly." Like, I understand where Dirk's coming from, we know how unbalanced Karkat is at his worst. But Dirk's seems to be the conservatist route, while the current status quo is so unbalanced someone with at least a little liberal thinking should try changing policy, little by little. ... Okay now Homestuck has me doing political discourse. Hussieeeeeeee! ... Why am I now picturing a Homestuck AU about the climate change truant student marches of Europe?

"DAVE: wait DAVE: how do you even know hes entering the race DAVE: we like just decided this DIRK: A competent political operative has his ways. DIRK: Besides, it was always pretty obvious to me you’d react this way the moment the announcement was made." Okay, not ruling out entirely Dirk has something spying on Dave, but that would verge too much on what Bro would've done in his place. He probably just cold-mindedly assessed his potential response.

"DAVE: cause if youve already got jake on your side then i guess we might as well just fucking quit DIRK: I wouldn’t worry about that. DIRK: He and I don’t quite have the rapport we once did. DIRK: He’s “over me” and doesn’t spare opportunities to make ostentatious demonstration of this claim. DAVE: um DIRK: Basically he doesn’t like being told what to do. Especially not by me." Cool, okay, so... Jake is needy in his own way, in showing he can fend for himself, at least that's how Dirk sees it. Guess they still hang out a lot though, just no longer "like that". That must be a letdown for the shippers, but a boon for the people that felt betrayed at seeing Dirk & Jake back together in the Credits. I like that middle road, actually! And hey, the versions of Jake & Dirk in the New Game Plus timeline, or whatever we should call it, are still fair game!

"DIRK: So it’s fair to say as of now, he’s still fully in play. DIRK: Not that I should be encouraging you, really. DAVE: you are one doubletalking son of a bitch you know that DAVE: i cant tell if you dont want us to run or are reverse psychology mindfucking us into running" Very true, that. Why would he share the truth about Jake if he wants to win, unless he wants fair competition? Best not to dwell on it too long on this neverending stairway of hidden intentions, lest we fall down it.

" DAVE: not like i can just stand around and wait for president crocker to like DAVE: write fucking grammar laws into the constitution" Pfffff, yes, I had forgotten about Jane's grammar practices, hahah. Guess she has a good running mate in Dirk for that, at least, capitalization and everything in order when he's not rapping.

"DIRK: Sorry to cut this short, but diapers are starting to come down pretty hard right now, and some of them haven’t even had their babies removed. DAVE: what" what. I hope it's at least consort babies, they're arguably the most resilient, as semi-sapient animals.

"DIRK: That was a joke." Ah.

"Jake can’t help but watch the motion, raking his eyes over the muscles shifting beneath the skin of Dirk’s neck and arms.

There is something implacably magnificent about Dirk Strider, Jake thinks, untamed like a wild game beast of incredible size and strength." ... Well then! I didn't think the narration would offer us this view from the perspective of Jake, thought it would be reseverd for John! Not entirely sure how I feel about the privilege of seeing Jake pine for Dirk, though. :P At least it clarifies where the allure is in it, for him. It's an extension of his taste for adventure and his upbringing on an island full of terribly powerful beasts.

"Of course, their history together is never far from Jake’s mind, however many years it’s been since their last tussle of an amorous nature. The old dramas and triumphs in the days of Sburb. Dirk’s companionship has been taxing to the heart, to say the least, and yet he’s taught Jake so much—about combat, philosophy, life, love." Okay, that is just such a Jake thing to phrase it like this. I'm glad we get to see he's not so oblivious or un-elloquent in his mind as he presents himself to the outside world, consciously or not.

"But sometimes, despite their checkered and problematic past, Jakes wishes that he could seize Dirk by the proverbial horns and wrest him bodily into becoming a much more agreeable fellow." Heheh, so Jake actually would like to impose on Dirk some manners. At least with him it stays with desires, while Dirk really did try to impose on Jake when they were together.

"DIRK: How about you kick off the next round? DIRK: I bet this crowd will settle its shit right down the moment you drop the latest rhymes you’ve been tinkering with." This is going to be painful to read, isn't it? ... If we're going to read them at all. ... I swear, this might just lead into them having "the xest rapoff in the history of Earth C".

"Jake’s face lights up. He composes himself, adjusting a bow tie, although he is not wearing one, and making a vague gesture like he’s twirling one end of that mustache Dirk has not yet let him grow. Dirk lets him go with a gentle smile, like the sort you’d give to a dog for performing a trick adequately. Jake responds to the signal like an Olympic athlete hearing the starter pistol. He was born for this." All the best and worst aspects of Dirk & Jake as a couple are basically summarized here. I mean, Dirk is not even WITH Jake and vetoes some of his choices. Then again, Jake really does have TERRIBLE (but hilarious) taste in mannerisms.

"JAKE: Tally ho its me, jake mcgee! JAKE: Popping my pistols off, two shots and a kiss JAKE: My aim is tops, i never miss" ... I'm not disappointed, this really IS almost physically painful to read, as expected.

... Okay that was actually a very amazing rap. Well thought out, good use of the vocabulary, dated though it is. I liked "jake-eng's" and "jape-slings" in particular, especially since that was what Vriska dismissed him as, a joke, a jape.

"The crowd, as Dirk rightly predicted, has settled its shit right down. This is not due to any accidental brilliance on the part of Jake English, but rather due to an abashed but loyal brand of pity, the kind a devoted fan cannot help but feel when they see a beloved celebrity make an ass out of themselves during a live broadcast they have waited two and a half years in line to buy a ticket for." I think this might be Dirk's POV. Not everyone's tastes in rap are as dignified as his, after all. :P Consorts in particular might love this. Then again, we saw John embarass carapacians not too long ago, they're not immune to pitying people. But hey, on the brightside, maybe some of the audience <>'s Jake now. :P

"Dirk’s phone begins going off again." Unless it's something more ominous, this is probably Dave having the last quip.

"With a casual flick of his wrist, Dirk snaps out a bright red tranquilizer handgun and shoots Jake in the neck. Jake’s glasses crack when he hits the mat. A chorus of boos rises up from the crowd like groundwater. Dirk artfully dodges a bucket of obscene troll fluid to field yet another very important personal call." ... Did Dirk actually use a Crockertech tranquilizer on his co-god? What the hell, Dirk? Guess all is fair in the ring.

And I suppose it's not Dave then that is calling him this time, if he takes such drastic measures.

"DIRK: Yo Rose, what's up?" Oooh, if we get to see this, that would be early we get to see Rose again! Dirk and Rose'll probably be planning their next move now that John has left. (Which I take Rose to already know about, through her Seer powers, or a call with Roxy.) ... Maybe some of their plans only could have worked IF John left, if they wanted to regain some measure of relevance through them.

[hollyplays]

Top Ten Movies of 2018

Alright. Now that it’s *checks watch* March 14th, I’m ready to give you my top ten movies of last year. I know, it’s absurdly late, but a lot of the big movies didn’t show in my theater so I had to wait til they hit digital or blu-ray to see them. Hell, there’s some I still haven’t seen. We’re all doing our best, right?

(I’m gonna spare you the “sorry for how long its been”. you know how long its been and how sorry i am by now. <3)

#10- Eighth Grade

You can tell this is gonna be a good list, because a movie this good is at the bottom. Eighth Grade is a hard, brilliant time capsule of a time in our lives we all do our best to black out. It speaks eloquently and simply about the effect social media has on the process of maturing without sounding like an after-school special for baby boomers. It’s phenomenal on a technical level as well- the cinematography is gorgeous and the soundtrack is immersive and haunting. I cannot reccomend Eighth Grade enough. (Nor can I spell recommend properly, apparently.)

#9- Hereditary

This movie fucked me up. I don’t have the biggest tolerance for horror (which I’m working on!) but typically a jumpscare movie like Sinister doesn’t do much for me afterwords. Hereditary had me on edge for days. You should absolutely go watch this movie wrapped up in a blanket, and you should absolutely read the doesthedogdie.com page for it so you’re completely prepared. Because trust me- you do not know what is going to happen.

#8- Thunder Road

Thunder Road had my number one spot for a long time, but there’s so many other excellent movies this year. I expected this movie to make me cry, but I didn’t expect it to hit me as hard as it did. Thunder Road is a fantastic indie movie with a fantastic cast and script. Jim Cummings delivers a picture-perfect performance.

#7- Roma

Roma is so hard to rank among the other movies, because I know it’s going to be a part of the film “canon” for years. Alfonso Cuaron is an excellent director, but I didn’t get into any of his other films as much as I enjoyed Y Tu Mama Tambien. Roma changed that. It is hauntingly beautiful, especially for black and white. It’s engineered to make you crave color, to make you crave depth from it’s characters and it’s scenery, and it delivers hard. Roma was so interesting and striking I wanted to do research on it after it was done. That’s some hardcore shit.

#6- First Reformed

My first Paul Schrader. (Far from my first Ethan Hawke, though. That man can get it.) This is one that haunts me, too. Every time I see some shit about Jeff Bezos’ wealth growing or workers being exploited, I hear Ethan Hawke’s voice in my head saying “Will god forgive us?”. This was especially striking to me as someone well-versed in the teachings and customs of Christianity. Planning a rewatch soon. First Reformed absolutely deserves it.

#5- BlacKkKlansman

I was nervous to watch this one, and I’m not sure why now. I think I had it in my head it wouldn’t be very good? I don’t know why I thought that. Spike Lee is good, and it’s no surprise that this movie is also quite good. John David Washington should be the next Batman. This movie doesn’t break the fourth wall so much as it glides through it like a permeable membrane. Casting Alec Baldwin as the KKK spokesman in the beginning of the movie is brilliant- Spike Lee knows you associate him with Trump thanks to SNL, and it forces you to both recontextualize what he’s saying with modernity, but also to recontextualize what Trump is saying with the horrible history of his rhetoric. And then that ending, jesus christ. There is exactly one (1) feel-good moment. Everything else is designed carefully to make sure you know- nothing has changed.

#4- Sorry To Bother You

Okay, from #6 on you cannot hold me responsible for how I rank things. Everything is so close to everything else. It’s all so good. Please do not yell at me in the comments.

Sorry to Bother You is fucking amazing. Everything about it is phenomenal. The script is tight, funny, depressing satire. The dialogue is believable and surreal. The cast is incredible. The soundtrack is wonderful. I could watch this movie forever. Don’t read any spoilers for it. Don’t look up anything. Just watch it.

#3- Blindspotting

Blindspotting was the only movie on this list that had me genuinely sobbing and shaking in fear. Blindspotting on paper should not work, but it works so, so well. Diggs and Casal fucking kill it. Blindspotting has so much to say about gentrification and the justice system and parole and it says it so eloquently. It’s so hard to rank Blindspotting next to Sorry to Bother You and BlacKkKlansman because they’re all such exceptional movies, but Blindspotting’s visceral third act keeps it a touch above the others.

#1- Spider-Man Into The Spider-Verse

Spider Verse is the perfect superhero movie. It stands so triumphantly above the rest of the comic book movie canon. And I love superhero movies! Everything about Spider Verse is to be commended. The writing is fucking impeccable. The first act is devastating. The character work is phenomenal, especially for a film that literally shoves three spider-people at you in a single scene.

That’s to say nothing of the absolute visual treat that Spider-Verse is. The animation is like nothing I’ve ever seen. The colors are striking and blended so perfectly.

Spider Verse is a superhero movie, but it’s also a visually enthralling artistic masterpiece. It’s tied for me for the best movie of 2018.

#1- The Favourite

I hated The Lobster. I thought Killing of a Sacred Deer was a solid 8/10. But The Favourite is so, so far above Yorgos Lanthimos’ other work.

The cinematography is amazing. I never thought I’d enjoy a fish-eye lens in a movie, but it works so well here to distort your perspective of these people’s home and lives.

Emma Stone, Rachel Weisz, and Olivia Colman are all amazing. Any one of them could’ve won Best Actress.

The Favourite is a movie about lesbian love. It never feels voyeuristic- even when scenes where it by all rights should- or fetishistic. It never objectifies lesbian sex or romance.

The script is amazing. The dialogue is smart and complex and simultaneously understandable. It never feels stuffy or forced.  It’s often laugh-out-loud funny.

I was /not/ prepared for how good The Favourite is. I don’t think you are, either.

So that’s my top ten movies of 2018! I’ve got something special in the pipeline for you, so look out for that soon!