#little mouse series

[stareiiez]

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 --- three.

simon ( ghost ) riley x female reader.

content : dark?? ghost. fingering. orgasming. voyeurism. modern settings. mentions of stalking. obsession. drinking. sex. female genitals. unhealthy attachments. violence. blood. implied death. blood. smut in later chapters. dark topics. this is just my version of haunting adeline but for ghost. adult cis female reader. MDNI. 3.9k words.

note: FINALLY we get to the beginning of the juicy bits. Rip Graves. I never liked him anyways :o. reblogs and notes are always loved and appreciated!

The number of times you were right, was very slim to none. You were right about hot tea being nothing but assaulting to your tastebuds the few times you tried to give the drink a chance. You were right about how stupid politics, and the government were just how they chanted about making your country amazing and equal again. You were right about how hot cocoa and hot chocolate were two different drinks. One was hot milk and cocoa powder, while the latter involved actual chocolate being involved in the process of making the delicious beverage. You were lastly right about seeing Graves again. Manifestation and crossing your fingers had nothing on your ability to predict that you'd manage to get the man into your home and sitting across from you.

A cooling mug of bitter coffee sat in the curve of his palm while he laughed over the details again about the night he first saw you at the club. Thanks to the help of a flirty intoxicated Izzy, she left yours as well as her and Veronica's numbers written on a liquor-damp piece of receipt paper for Graves' boys to fight over who could have whom for late-night hookups if they so wanted. Graves had called you during your lunch break at work, somehow he had known in the universe that you were thinking about him to take the time to call. You never answered unknown numbers, but this time you had. Your cheeks flushed when you heard his drawl over the phone's speaker. His tone sends your heart to flutter in its trapped cage of your ribs. Your coworkers must have thought you were weird for smiling and giggling like a schoolgirl who was talking to their quarterback crush over the phone for the first time.

You two had chatted about the hour break you had during lunch. Your three-day-old takeout leftovers were left untouched in favor of flirting with the man and trying to work out a day and time to have him come over for a cup of coffee as an excuse to catch up on the missing details of the rest of the night. The sound of idle laughter filled your home's warm living room/kitchen area. You covered your giggles with your coffee mug while Graves went into detail about how he found his friends' clothes missing after Izzy and Veronica had convinced them to skinny dip in the pool of the Air B&B the boys were staying in for however long. Their clothes were hidden among the crooks and crannies of the house while the boys played drunk Marco Polo in the pool temp water.

Veronica and Izzy had soon left them after that, miraculously striding out of the home just as Graves had been dropped off by his Uber. He graciously bought them both a ride home, none the wiser to the panicked voices of his friends outside in their rented pool. "I've never seen anything quite as pale as the White Sands in New Mexico than Ox's bare ass streaking through the place trying to find his clothes. " Graves laughed over your small giggles the image had brought both of you.

Comfortable silence lingered between you two as you both sipped from differing tastes of coffee. His eyes never left you, nor did they hide the way they watched your throat move as you swallowed a mouth full of overly sweet coffee and cream.

"Oh, I almost forgot. I never asked my guest." Graves' eyebrows rose when you set your mug down, a change in your expression caught his attention. You were now standing. Coffee mug drained to bitter grounds and sugar granules. The stain of your lipstick imprinting on deep green ceramic. "If he wanted a tour of my home, you've been here for an hour but your story was so funny I didn't want to interrupt. "

Pretty blues swept over your small place. A lofted house isn't much to get lost in, but there was more to just a chic-looking home in the middle of nowhere. What's he got to lose? A pretty woman taking him on adventures that would give him excuses to have his hands on you so you don't stray away. Count him in. "Alright, darlin'. " The harsh push of his velvet-lined barstool squeaked against the floorboards when he stood to rise as well. An arm extended in such a gentleman-like way, offering it out to you. As if he wasn't charming enough for someone you've known for a night and one day.

His muscles were strong against your smooth skin when you wrapped your arm around him. Ignoring the flush threatening to surface on your cheeks from the smell of his cologne teasing your nose, you guided him to the backdoors of your home. French doors opened to greet you with the interior of your large greenhouse. Your aunt sure had a green thumb in her youth, and nothing was more convenient than having nature practically share doors with her. In honor and overwhelming gratitude you had for her giving this house to you, you decided to take up the art of gardening and plant caring. You weren't the best at it. Then again you just moved in and you only started with little seedlings of seasonal flowers and already potted house plants. Veggies and fruits were another challenge you'll learn after you can manage to not overwater or uproot your aloe vera plants for the third time in a month.

Outdoor paper lanterns cascaded in swoops over both of your heads. It cast a warm, soothing glow that contrasted your evening's dark, rainy gloom. Rain splashed down on the thick glass of the greenhouse; only achieving a cozier feel to your little slice of nurtured nature. Plush loveseats of dark and white colors decorated the corners of the space and openly invited you two to sit down and chat more with one another. Thankfully, Graves had better ideas and had plopped himself down into the dark green loveseat. He practically sunk into rich velvet, as he dragged you by the arm you linked with his, downwards. You didn't have the chance to protest or even outright gasp when your back collided with the strong contours of his chest.

"It's lovely. " Graves' hummed into the curve of your ear. His blue eyes fell from the stoic gold lanterns above you, to now the curve of your neck. He couldn't help the temptation of leaning in to place his lips against sweet-smelling skin. "But. I have something lovelier." His voice husks out, words muffling into whispers against the back of your neck.

Ample kisses, slow and steady cause rows of pinks and reds to bloom along the thin skin. His large hands settle on their rightful place on your hips. Just like those nights ago, they decide to squeeze and paint beautiful bruises under the fabric of your short skirt. He's a multi-tasking pro for letting his mouth ravage the curves and bends of your neck with his hot tongue and lips; while his hands decide to paw and knead the more tender flesh of your inner thighs. His large palms cover your thighs so nicely enough, that they ward away the chill of the falling rain outside solid glass windows.

Your head falls back onto the curve of his right shoulder. The angle is a little uncomfortable and hard to get used to, but it's so worth it when he licks a wet stripe down the slope of your exposed throat. Your breath hitches. Cheeks flush a cherry red when you feel his lips curve against your wet skin from your reaction. Sure, thinking about picking up where you last left off wasn't in your mind when you decided to invite him over. You couldn't even begin to predict how a simple chat over coffee, would lead to those rough hands pushing your skirt up enough to let the smooth planes of your panty-covered mound. Both the forest's and Graves' hungry eyes soaked in the black satin underwear you wore. Thank god for doing laundry before he came over, or else he would have seen the crustiest pieces of fabric that were held together with two pieces of thread and a wish. The storm outside had taken the chance to have thunder drown out the deep bellow of a groan from Graves' throat at the sight. All for him. Only for him in this moment, and by God was he glad he didn't decide to go fuck some other chick than follow through with your plans today. He was so lucky.

So lucky in fact that his luck happened to attract another lucky individual to this show you and him were putting on together. You really should consider where you were and who could be potentially watching you getting your panties ripped off of your thighs and tossed in some random direction.

The fold of Simon's hood shrouded his face in black shadows, but it didn't obscure the sight of those thighs parting at the large palm that encompassed your clothed cunt. Hidden lips curved into an amused smirk when he watched you start to hump the stranger's hand. His fingers tingled at how your pretty spine curved upwards, lips parted in silent moans that he would burn down cities just to hear on repeat. Such a pretty thing you are, letting yourself be touched in ways that only looked like soft-core porn compared to what images were running through his fucked mind right now.

The grass squished under his boots, imprints of his soles pressing the greenery into perfect evidence that he was watching. It wasn't hard to find you if you were to find these footsteps later when you're doing your yoga outside in the afternoons on sunnier days. It's not hard to run through every single female owner of your type of branded red car. He found the name and credit card information that you used to buy your vehicle too pleasantly quickly. Child's play as Alejandro liked to say with bright white teeth and brown eyes winking in mischief. He knew your age, your blood type, your eye color, home address, date of birth, fuck even what size of bras you like to wear. It's especially easier to have someone hack streetlight cameras, and every building that owns security cameras, to watch your car drive through empty city streets to get home. Fewer cameras, and less technology surrounding your dusty roads home. He's a man with connections, thank the stars for the 141 and Alejandro's buddies. He'd kiss the man on the mouth with ruddy tongue and all if it meant getting to watch you get off for his eyes every single night.

The humidity in your greenhouse seemed to kick up a notch when your cunt made the filthiest noises against the grooves of Graves' palm. Your breaths were storm clouds of lust and babble of pleas that rained down over your heads. Your moans were thunderous claps of straight energy that made your ears ring and muscles string taut with arousal that pooled warmly in your stomach. Graves' touch was the strike of lightning hitting dry trees in your barren forest. His fingers were electricity that curled through sopping folds to press against your G-spot and alight you with hot flames that crackled and popped under your skin. It was everything that led to a disastrous wildfire that overtook your body and made your legs snap wider when you burned hotter and hotter in his hands. Your body danced and wriggled under his strong grip. Graves was the idiotic man that made this wildfire of yours worse, he was the one to pour gasoline on your inferno when his thumb rubbed hurried circles to your clit and watch you fall apart in crackling embers of charred wood and soot when your body couldn't handle its heat any longer.

The evidence of Graves' arousal rubbed against the swell of your bare ass. Rough denim chaffing silky skin a blushed pink. He wasn't giving you much of a break to let your thoughts become coherent. The sight of his slick-covered index and middle finger scooping up your sweet essence and shoving them in his mouth only encouraged the aching thrum in your belly to begin all over again. You could taste yourself on his tongue when greedy hands wrapped around the back of his neck, and you forced his head to bend down to sloppily kiss you over your shoulder. Tongues swapped spit and remaining salty tangy slick that stained Graves' tastebuds happily. It wasn't even qualified as what your kisses were at this point. It was heavy petting of flicking tongues and hungry moans into the hot caverns of your mouths'.

Between the heavy petting and Graves' shameless rutting against your ass. One of your hands crept behind and between your writhing bodies to fumble blindly with his zipper. His moving hips aided in his zipper pulling down. The release of pressure made Graves groan out in relief, his head falling back with a sigh; allowing your spit-covered lips to press wet kisses along the column of his throat as best as you could at this angle.

Just as your hips had lifted to allow yourself to finally spin around and pull Graves' jeans off his legs; a loud bang echoed over your lustful activities and the thunderstorm outside. It sounded like someone or something had made an impact with the curved glass of your greenhouse. Whatever it was, it was heavy and had enough force to send both of your gazes to the direction of where the noise came from. Graves stood up from his loveseat, eyes still shiny with desire. Jeans threatening to fall around his ankles comically. "Probably a stupid deer. Things run into your damn headlights if you drive fast enough." His voice drawled out to the back of your head. Too nonchalant compared to you. You would jump at any loud noise or shadow if it was too scary-looking.

Blame it on the realistic horror movies that get put out nowadays for your fear and paranoia. "You sure? It doesn't sound like it was a deer. We'd hear it scream or cry in pain." Your head whipped around to look up at him. Shoulders taut once more like they had been when you were alone in your car and found that flower in your passenger seat.

A snort left the man. A shit-eating grin threatening to overtake kiss bruised lips. He found this hilarious. Much to your annoyance, he was going to patronize you like you were some kid afraid that there were monsters in your closet and under your bed. You could tell the next words he'd utter would turn your mood sour in an instant.

"Awh, lil darlin' afraid of a big bad buck?" You were right. "You want me to check it out, sweetheart?" Yes. No. Yes. Maybe? You've got to be overreacting, right?

Your round eyes and shallow breathing were much of an answer to him than if your pretty mouth had opened and half begged half whispered for him to go see if some brain-dead animal had rammed its thick cranium into your glass window and killed itself willingly. A shake of his head and a small breathy chuckle left his lungs. He fixed his pants with an amused sigh. "Suit yourself, darlin'. Wait right here. Won't be long."

His steps thudded out of your greenhouse, and back into your home. You could hear your front door opening and closing. You could hear the muffled stamping of his boots walking down the couple steps of your front porch. It was so quiet if you had the will and ability to, you could hear the crunch of dirt and gravel crunching under Graves' soles. Instead, you were deafened by the trickling of rain and the occasional clap of soft thunder that rumbled in the distance. You stood there, waiting and listening. Two minutes went by. Then another minute passed. Then another; and another; and another. Five minutes, you stood there. Skirtless, with your slick cool in your goosebump-flecked skin. Graves wouldn't take that long to walk around your property, right? He's not an idiot to go wandering into your forest at night and lose himself in the thick canopy of branches and pine needles. He was just going to go around the side of your home and check out the perimeter of your greenhouse. It doesn't take five minutes to do that. You would know, you've done that a couple of times in the past to embrace the outdoors on your yoga mat.

Hastily you bent over to collect your discarded panties and skirt. Heart skipping a beat here and there while you got dressed. The uncomfortable stick of your panties to your lower lips made you shiver in more than just fear for your sanity. You were becoming too aware of how alone you were and how long Graves had been gone. You swallowed, fists clenching at your sides. Damp palms being creased in half-moons from your fingernails while you turned your head to gaze outside to the dreary moonlight night. Your mouth opened, nerves steeling for your voice to call out to Graves.

What didn't come out of your parted lips wasn't Graves' name in a questioning manner, however; but a scream that was ripped from your shaking lungs when lightning ripped seams through the sky and illuminated the very large handprint spotted with watery crimson that stained your glass wall temporarily. The quick flash of bright light had you screaming for something far different than what you wanted to be screaming for that night. Awash tiny rivers of red and the imprint of a stranger's bare hand had been more than a sign to ditch waiting around for Graves to show up. Your heart had leaped into your constricted throat as you bolted into your living room. The door separating your home and the greenhouse was slammed behind your body. It was hard enough to rattle the frame and the wall of your house.

Sweaty fingers fumbled blindly in the dark of your home to turn the lock on the door. Your breaths were harsh and coming out faster and faster. In some fucked sense, you wanted to scream out in the open that you were right once again. You were always right. You were scared out of your god damned mind, on the verge of having a panic attack but you were right. Graves was out there. Maybe that was his handprint on your glass and some animal had decided to hurt him for making fun of it. Maybe it wasn't an animal.

Your mind screamed logic and facts. It couldn't have been an animal. Animals that were killed were noisy to some degree. They would snarl or cry out before attacking their prey. It would have made Graves scream in pain if he got bit or ripped apart in the jaws of some bobcat or wolf if they even have those where you live. If the forest surrounding your home was even home to such dangerous creatures that stalked around your home every night. It had to be something human. Someone was out there. A homeless man crazed on drugs and was able to hurt some innocent person for the money in their wallet just to score a new high. Maybe a serial killer who got off on killing vulnerable people who were out in the dredges between night and evening; just waiting to bury their blade into their victim's throat and hack away till they were lifeless and bloody on the ground.

You spun around on your heel, pressing your spine against the sturdy wood of the door. Something to help you ground your senses and coax the terrified screams that were clogged in your esophagus. The back of your head thunked back, your eyes squeezed shut. Just breathe. You can focus on trying to breathe even if there was some knife-wielding maniac perusing around your estate just waiting for you to be dumb enough to go after Graves in hopes of finding him. You weren't stupid, sure a little dumb at times, but not stupid enough to die like every annoying side character in a slasher movie.

Inhale. Exhale. Tick tick tick goes the clock hanging above your head.

Inhale. Exhale. Ba-dump Ba-dump Ba-dump goes your heartbeat that slows microscopically. Good, progress.

Inhale. Exhale. Open your eyes and look around to find the cellphone you left on the counter next to your coffee cup so the cops can come and save you.

Inhale. Exhale. Feel your entire face go white and mouth open in silent screams when you find a lone red peony placed right on top of your phone screen. Your stomach twisted in knots over and over again till everything in your gut curdled. Next thing you knew, you were vomiting in your kitchen sink from adrenaline and fear. A slurry of coffee and lunch and breakfast painted the sterling silver tub.

This isn't happening. There's no way that this could be happening to you. Some sick freak that not only broke into your car but now your house and could have hurt Graves just to leave behind flowers for you isn't possible. Yet the chill of the now-becoming night air only confirms your delusions into a sick reality. Your head turns over your shoulder, not bothering to rinse your mouth out. The whites of your eyes threaten to pop out of your skull when you see the front door is wide open. Blooming constellations and the expanse of your dirt road greet your bulging eyes. Again, does your heart race ever faster, the color and feeling in your entire body threatening to drain at a rapid state that leaves you uncoordinated.

With legs equivalent to jelly, you cross the expanse of your small home. Eyes trained on the young night sky that taunts you with its ever-calm presence. Even if your world is starting to crumble and fall into ruin, the sky and gentle breeze in the air remain ever the same as always. You told yourself you wouldn't be the dumb blonde that wanders out and gets killed by the crazy slasher in movies, but yet you find yourself standing in the open doorway. Your eyes can't focus on staring in one place for long. Always flicking in every direction at the smallest of noises that nature makes. Your ears strain for the crunch of footsteps that are somewhat human. Your fluctuating pupils fought to try and find the silhouette of a man out in the growing shadows between the thick bark of the trees. Still, you could find nothing of the sort, no crazy killer. No dead body of Graves strung up in a taunting manner there to haunt your dreams for the rest of your life.

However, what you did find when your head had tilted down just enough, was a crudely carved ' S ' in the painted black steps of your front porch. The ragged edges and points of the single letter tarnished your quickly dissolving sanity, your home, and your plans for the rest of the night. The single letter stared up at you for just a second later. That was until you turned tail and retreated into your home, the front door slamming shut behind you, so you could finally call the cops.

[disneytva]

After 4 years due COVID-19 and Strikes, Disney Television Animation returned to the classic "Disney TVA Animation Showcase" an exclusive employee only event where Disney Television Animation showcases it's upcoming slate

The showcase includes renewals and NDA shows., the event also showcased a first look to Disney Television Animation's 100th series overall "StuGo" created by Ryan Gillis.

[gooseco]

bev!

[littlexdeaths]

what if… shy girl goes to a hellfire meeting what then…

and if she goes back to eddie’s trailer after and she tries smoking weed for the first time WHAT THEN

[hom3land3r]

Anything for you. I'm good at relieving stress in other ways too but we'll save that for later.

I have some things I need to talk to The Deep about.

Don't worry about the screaming.

- 🐁

Oh, I’m sure you do. I trust you’ll have him handled before long. Have fun.

I’ll make sure everyone else knows to also ignore the screaming.

[d011zk1ll]

i drew this with my mouse on fucking paint yall. in like 5 mins while i was waiitng for my friend

[plutosoda]

sooo any thoughts on katfl youd be interested in sharing? you're being v normal about it i have observed !

a process has happened to me

[ossy-serenity]

Strings of Fate

"It amused her to bind him with the same spell she uses to control her rock creatures."

In a charmed, twisted way, Hope seemingly made him forget all the suffering he had endured for so many years.

His incapacity to be strong enough to protect those he loved, all the mental struggles he's gone through,

himself all together

[eliteseven]

baby Jen being scared of a thunderstorm outside the cottage and running into bed with Tav and Shadowheart 🥰

PEAK CUTENESS?! 😍

Following Shadowheart’s moonlight spell (her night light, ofc) all the way to Tav and Shadowheart’s room?? Tav always being on alert and waking up the minute she hurries in, scooping her up and nestling her right between them?

Best sleep of her life 🥹. The storm is entirely forgotten in the safety of Tav and Shadowheart’s shared embrace.

Now Tav has her warmth siphoned by her TWO favorite people 😅 and she’s never been happier. (Or colder)

[mortimerlatrice]

"I have-" *twitches nose "-the file you asked for, khun."

HE'S PERFECT I LOVE HIM. MY MOUSEY LITTLE MAN 🐀

C'MERE YOU 🪤

[mariocki]

Patrick Troughton guests as ruthless racketeer George, out to silence the man who can identify his brother as a murderer, in Dial 999: Key Witness (1.26, ABC, 1959)

[stareiiez]

𝑳𝒊𝒕𝒕𝒍𝒆 𝑴𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 ------ five

simon ( ghost ) riley x female reader.

content : dark?? ghost. fingering. orgasming. voyeurism. modern settings. mentions of stalking. gore. death. gun violence. graphic descriptions of gore. torture. obsession. drinking. sex. female genitals. unhealthy attachments. violence. blood. implied death. blood. smut in later chapters. dark topics. this is just my version of haunting adeline but for ghost. adult cis female reader. MDNI. 4.2k words. proof read to the best of my tired eyes.

note: just got back from the movies! decided to finally finish this chapter, so the ending to this chapter doesn't really sit well with me. Just another ' encounter ' with Simon :), he's getting ballsy.

likes and reblogs are loved and appreciated!

Ice water runs through your entire body at the single line of text that glares up from your illuminated phone screen. A feeling that isn't associated with the pure comfort of knowing a deputy had your phone number and decided to text you something wildly inappropriate just to make sure you had his number as well. Your fingers hesitate, hovering over the small keyboard while you watch in tandem another text comes in from the unknown number. Three dots bubble in a smooth wave of ups and downs.

" My pretty girl, you look so scared, what's wrong?" reads the text.

Your throat constricts. Skin deciding to grow clammy at the ever-taunting three dots that dance along your screen; your thumbs hung in a perpetual freeze over the keyboard. Your brain can't get your neurons to fire quickly enough to come up with some reply or snarky response. You can't even force the muscles in your small thumb to block the unknown number as any good-minded person would. You're the person who pokes the baby bear and waits around for the momma bear to come over and rip your throat to pieces while you scream out and ask why this happened to you in the first place.

Stick in hand, you poke the bear with sharp jabs of pointed wood. Thumbs slowly tap against the finger-smudged screen.

' Who is this? You some kind of weirdo that scams innocent people for fun?'

The swoosh of your green-colored text message floats on the ample space of your new conversation with an unknown number.

Your teeth bite down on your bottom lip, watching your phone. Your fingers tap on the screen to keep the bright LED awake just in case you miss another notification as if that were possible. Seconds turn into one minute of you standing stock straight in your bedroom, ignoring the pretty cream-colored beams of the full moon that now beam into your open Victorian-styled window. The gossamer of your curtains flutters on the rain-flavored breeze that filters through the small crack in your window. It brings goosebumps up your bare legs, and the short skirt you still are wearing does nothing to warm the external and internal chill you feel wreaking havoc on your body. You shiver, your arms close around your chest to tame the chattering of your teeth.

' No. Don't worry your pretty little head trying to guess who I am. You'll hurt yourself.'

' Don't need my girl aching so early over me.'

You frown at your screen. Lines appear on your forehead at the patronizing tone that rings loud and clear through the digital letters. You want to scoff and roll your eyes. You want to turn your phone screen off and flop onto your bed, just to count the number of rotations your overhead fan does till the sun graces the sky and you regret every decision you've ever made for the past few days of living here.

' Tell me who this is before I go and tell the police some no life is texting me for fun.'

Three dots do their familiar dance on your screen. They dance on your nerves. They do the tango on your growing irritation at your phone, at yourself, at this entire night. Then they disappear like your unknown number decided he spooked at the half-empty threat of yours. That little threat worked half of the time whenever you used it, you're glad someone decided to take you seriously for once. You expected the texter to laugh in your face with another patronizing text and keep up the game until it drove you into throwing your phone into the hallway and leaving it there till tomorrow morning. You exhale out through your nose with a victorious smirk on your lips when another minute passes and your text remains unanswered.

" Serves them right, " you mutter, setting your phone back down onto your nightstand and striding to your bedroom closet for a comfy set of pajamas to stay in for the night. A loose pair of superhero sleep pants warm your legs and a short messily cropped shirt threatens to slip further down your shoulders with every swing of your arms when you pull it on over your head.

The rest of your night routine goes unbothered, your phone pitch black and silent on your nightstand under the soothing glow of a thrifted vintage bedside lamp. Your pajamas are ditched onto your mattress when you decide a hot shower is something you need to forget about the uncomfortable texts you got from a random number. The pressure and spray of the showerhead wash away the traces of Graves' cologne from your skin. Another pang of worry clouds your brain at the thought of him. You send another prayer to some god to watch over him or even make sure he got away from whatever crazy person/ stalker decided to attack him for no good reason. Hot perfumed-scented steam follows you into your bedroom after a much-needed shower, your skin is a bright cherry red under the tight wrapping of a bath towel. Your phone screen lights up on your nightstand while the moonlight illuminates sweet-scented water droplets that bead on your shoulders and race down the planes of your chest till they soak into fluffy cotton. You're the picture of innocent seduction when you pass in front of your still-open window and grab your phone to see if another text infested your messages from the unsaved number.

' Good luck. '

Some say it's stupid for criminals to return to the scene of a crime after it happened, but Simon isn't stupid like those knuckle-headed twits who are sloppy with their work. He knows what he's doing. He's never done this before, the whole stalking the practical love of his life ( is that a little too early to say? ) after just seeing her once and for a couple of seconds at a buddy's bar. He's never done the whole ' touch her and I'll kill you ' kind of thing for women before either. He's always the one to sleep around if he needs a good stress reducer. Always doggy style and fast-paced so he can clean his dick off and throw the condom out on his way out the front door while his one-night stand wonders if they can cuddle after. Such a classic pump-and-dump dickheaded bloke thing to do.

But for you? For those pretty eyes and the way, your lips wrapped snuggly on the rim of a cheap beer bottle. His world exploded into every stereotype under the sun and moon. He would kill for you. He would kill himself if you demanded it. He would crawl on his knees over broken glass if he ever broke your heart when you two got together. You have taught an old dog new tricks, and this old dog wants to show you how it can blow you sky-high if you let it happen.

The deputy sitting in his car was not even an obstacle Simon had to bypass or even waste his time killing if he wanted to overstay his welcome. The cop did himself in by passing out on duty while listening to the static noise of his stereo and the monotonous droning of police chatter on his radio. He has to thank Price for putting the weakest member of the police force on active watch duty without even giving it a second thought. Always looking out for his boys is like a subconscious tick for old war-torn veteran John Price.

Simon's bulky figure strolls through your front door like he owned the house. Picking apart the lock in the dead of night under the beam of the moon was a cakewalk, his fingers prodding and poking at the locks that never got an upgrade when you moved in. Your aunt had stripped off the original walls and flooring and gutted out the attic to create an artsy smaller environment for her dotting niece. How kind of her to never fix the faulty front door lock that never really fully slid into its place. Bless your aunt. His eyes adjust slowly to the shadows of inky midnight in your home while he moves like a dead spirit in your home. His thick-soled boots make little to no noise on the glossy cherry wood flooring. His gloved fingers slide over the smooth marble of your kitchen island when he passes by it. He can almost picture you standing there, standing in nothing but one of his t-shirts and making yourself a coffee in the morning.

His delusions of you in his twisted brain show your pretty neck marked with teeth indents that are akin to a ravenous dog. Red and so dark blues that are nearly black are scattered on your jawline and throat like galaxies. Thick finger-shaped gangrene green bruises are splattered on your upper thighs that get revealed when you reach up for the bag of ground coffee, and his shirt rides up a little too much just to show your perky ass and the teeth marks and still red handprints left behind. You're every man's morning-after dream, still smelling of his cologne and sex. Your blood stains of too deep bitten marks stain his shirt collar a rusty red. Simon's chest puffed up just a bit in pride of how good you'll look when he brings his daydreams into a reality; yet for now, he ignores the sticky heat that works from his mushy brain down to the cock in his jeans.

The stairs audibly creak under his combat boots, yet he pays them no mind when he takes them one at a time. Memorizing which ones to step on next time he decides to break into your home so he doesn't cause too much unnecessary noise to echo in the warm interior of your home. His palm slides up the smooth, same-colored wood as your flooring, banister of your stairs while he takes his time to cast flickering glances at the framed photos displayed on deep green colored walls. Photos you have hung up that display pieces of your childhood home and you on your tricycle with two front teeth missing in your glimmering smile. Other photos of you in graduation cap and gowns of high school and college with friends that wear similar attire. The small glimpses of moonlight gift Simon with the warmth of your pretty smile from every precious picture you deemed important enough to hang in your home. Small normal accomplishments of your normal life and childhood only make the male fall further and further into a deeper cesspool of admiration for your quaint domesticity he vyes for with you.

Your bedroom door swings open without a creak in its aging hinges. Your sleeping form is swaddled so angelically in deep red colored sheets. Your curves are framed ever so slightly in thin satin threads that are twisted between your legs and tugged up to your chin. Simon doesn't close the door behind him when he enters your bedroom, his large figure casting their own monumental shadow on your body. His deep brown eyes watch your eyes twitch behind your closed eyelids now and then, signaling to the man you're off somewhere in your dreamland and far away from his opposing figure that reaches out for you. One of his pointer fingers graces the apple of your cheek with the gentlest of touches. His blunt fingernail moves a few strands of hair away from your face so he can admire your sleeping expression without anything blocking his gaze.

His eyes sweep from the top of your head, and how the way your hair falls in waves of colors to then fan out over your pillow, to the bridge of your nose, to your cheeks once again, then finally to settle on parted lips that glisten with the smallest amount of drool. You're gorgeous. There's no doubt about it, he confirms to himself as his pointer finger lazily carves a path from your cheek down to follow the curve of your soft jawline.

His finger stills its ministrations of gentle stroking when he watches your brows furrow. Your nose scrunches so cutely in his eyes, your damp lips mumble in sleep-talk gibberish and you roll onto your other side. Your back faces him. Even in your sleep, you reject his touches, which is mildly disappointing. No matter, that'll change sooner than later.

On the spare pillow of your bed, Simon sets another crimson-colored peony in a slightly wrinkled condition onto its surface. The confines of his pockets had caused the color of the petals to grow darker. What looks like watery red dye stains the pillowcase from such disgruntled-looking flower petals.

It's his goodnight to you, even if he much rather would settle on pressing chapped lips to the curve of your temple. He wouldn't want to rouse you from sleep by hunkering over your bed and nearly squishing you down on the thick mattress of your bed for just one kiss. Seeing the fear in your eyes, the look of shock that pales your complexion at the sight of an unknown skull-masked man hovering over you in the dead of night with an indescribable look in his eyes would surely send you into cardiac arrest. Simon wouldn't be able to contain himself if he saw his pretty girl looking like a little mouse under his heavy weight and on the verge of screaming for help.

The comparison suits you. Little mouse. His little mouse.

" I can't believe you never called earlier about this! This is insane." Victoria's hands throw up over her head. Her frustrated expression is something you expected after shutting yourself in your house for four days after your encounter with the police.

You finally had the balls to call at least one of your friends to tell her everything and beg for some kind of company when the silence in your home got a little too loud, and the sounds of your house settling at night were affecting your sleep. You hadn't gotten a proper eight hours of rest in what felt like in while, a couple of thirty-minute power naps, and the occasional luck of being able to get more than two hours of sleep at night was your new sleep schedule. Sick-looking bags dragged down your eyes with exhaustion. Your undereyes were starting to get that deep blue hue along your waterline, really selling the fact you're losing your health over some potential serial stalker.

The both of you were curled up on your leather couch, the cushions squeaking under you as you moved into a tighter ball of shame when she didn't lift her irritated gaze off your frame. The throw blanket you had decided to cover yourself when you two sat was pulled up to your chin. Rounded eyes portraying vulnerability flick away from the woman to stare out the expansive floor to the ceiling window.

" __, you need a security system. Put cameras outside or even a fucking bodyguard that follows you around, you can't live like this." Victoria's hands gesture at your rumpled complexion. The smell of sickly sweet bodily odor wafts off the thick throw blanket. Your paranoia was putting your hygiene at risk. You couldn't handle showering.

You tried once, the night after deputy dipshit hauled his donut-loving ass off your front porch when he told you he was no longer needed here; and to call the police if there was another sign of your stalker outside bothering you. It was Price's call, after all, he withdrew your protection with a condescending pat on your head and a ' you'll be okay, sweetie. '

The hot water was a comforting sting to your skin when you stepped in. Your head tilted back to soak your hair and allow the feeling of pins and needles prodding at your scalp to try to distract you from your shit-stained predicament right now. Your eyes closed as you stepped back further into the harsh spray, yet you couldn't begin to relax fully when your mind began to play sick tricks on your decaying sanity. Your heart picked up in erratic beats. Your ears strained too hard at the faux footsteps you imagined stomping your hallway right to your bathroom.

Behind your eyelids, you swore you could see the dark visage of a stranger growing against your floral shower curtain. One of the stranger's hands outstretched to grab at one end of the curtain and pull back just to touch you in your most vulnerable st----- NO!. Your eyes flew open, blinking through the downpour of water just to stumble forward and end up falling onto your bare ass. You ignored the prickles of pain shooting up from your tailbone and yanked back the shower curtain to stare out at your bathroom. No threatening stranger standing there with a knife in one of his hands. No presence of another person invading your bathroom, going through your things before they got to you. You were alone. Alone and dripping cooling water onto your floors while you ran naked through your home just to triple-check with yourself that no one was here with you.

You shrank further into your blanket as if that was even possible. Tired tears announced themselves to your sagging waterline, Victoria was right. Even if her words hurt, you needed security. You needed more than contemplating begging her to spend the night just so you could feel safe and maybe get through an everything shower without going into hysterics. Your sinuses clogged, and those hot tears of every frustrated emotion you felt to yourself, to the police, to your fucking life, and to the asshole who decided you were worthy of driving over the edge of insanity, dripped down your oily face.

" I'll call Izzy, see if she can come over later with some takeout and we can stay in all day." Victoria sighs out, reaching across the chasm of space you had put between her and you. Deeply tanned skin, the comforting color that reminds you of herbal tea, brushes against one wet cheek. Her thumb and forefinger swiped away salty water with loving caresses. You wanted to weep harder from your friend's consoling efforts to ease your feelings.

Her thick brows turn upwards with concern when you blink another fresh trickle of tears down your chin, your nose ruby red and threatening to snot with every sniffle you let out. "I can spend the night too, you don't mind sharing a bed do you?"

She's saved you from the embarrassment that would send you catapulting over the edge of your home, hoping to god you land on your head so your neck can break clean in half. You'd hate to bother your friends with your new fucked situation, but your angel incarnate of a woman named Victoria saves you from suicide. You give her a watery smile and lean into her lavender-scented palm when she swipes more salty water off your skin. "I'd like that."

Your angel smiles so warmly, her concern melting just enough to soften around the edges like melted butter at your acceptance. Damp fingers of her's gently pat your cheek. "That's my girl, why don't you shower? I'll call Izzy, and we can google security systems that are available to install on such short notice. I think my brother knows a guy, I'll call him after Izzy gets here."

You nod. The weight in your heart and head lift just enough to get your legs out from under you without any help. A shower sounds so good, and with the comforting noise of Victoria piddling around your home; filling the chilling silence with a playlist of her's playing on the living room flatscreen. You can get through the tasks of scrubbing and rubbing your entire body red till you think every greasy pore is clean once again.

One hot steamy and long shower later, you emerge back into your living room swathed in a fluffy cotton robe. You feel like yourself again, or as close as you can be to your normal self. Izzy, now present in your kitchen, is pouring through Google reviews of security companies and tech cameras that are up to a decent standard. Victoria is on the phone, pacing back and forth in your kitchen. Her voice is thick with Portuguese spilling into the speaker at such a rapid rate that it makes your head spin. She must have gotten a hold of her brother, which is good to know. Your heart flutters in your chest at the sight of having such support and help from the only two people you know in the city.

You can't help your lips pulling into a smile when both girls notice you're out of the shower. They smile at you back, Izzy wiggles her skinny fingers at you before she turns back to the computer screen she brought over.

Your phone buzzes in the pocket of your robe. The once fuzzy feelings you have about adoring how wonderful your best friends are are ruined thanks to the automatic pang of fear that comes from the vibration. You decide to climb up the stairs to your bedroom, your hand retrieving your phone with shaky fingers. The screen illuminates with the movement of your hand and your face begins to pale when another unknown number pops up on the lock screen. A different set of numbers than the one that texted you the first time. Yet, you wouldn't doubt in your mind it was a different sicko that would message you out of the blue.

A couple of days of silence on the unknown number's end after your last conversation. It was agony, to say the least. Every buzz and ring of your phone had your heart racing and cold sweat beading on the palms of your hands in anticipation of getting another text from your newly claimed stalker. No matter what the police denied or said, you wouldn't change your mind about it.

Now, your stalker decides to text you. Just when you thought you could have a moment of solace. Just when you thought you could enjoy the company of your girls and maybe pretend like it was just another night with them, they decided to ruin it. It's like they were watching you through your windows, taking a moment to wipe that happy little smile off your face and replace it with trembling lips and wide eyes. Your thumb presses on the text when your phone unlocks with a small click noise.

' Having a party without me, little mouse?' reads the text.

Your stomach begins to swim in that all too familiar ocean of nausea, yet you hold down your nerves enough to quickly retort before you lose your small amount of breakfast at the thought of being watched.

' What party?' ' Are you watching me right now?' Your fingers fly over the screen and hit send in a matter of seconds.

You swear you could hear the scoff through the text that gets sent back, just as quickly as yours. They dodge the question like your questions were too fucking dumb to answer. It's obvious.

'The girls are pretty, but not as pretty as my girl.' They're watching you and like the dumb blonde in every single horror movie. You get a little too curious and finish darting up the rest of your stairs, the sash of your robe slips loose around your waist as you crash into your bedroom and press against the open window for a peek at your stalker.

Maybe it's paranoia finally catching up to you and letting you witness early-onset schizophrenia that's most likely not inherited through your family. Or maybe you want to will and believe in the murky black and browns of the forest's shadows just enough to pretend you can see the outline of a person standing in the treeline—your palm streaks against the glass of your window. Your nose threatens to crack and pop like rice cereal from how hard you strain your eyes to hyper-focus on the humanoid-looking blob near your home. You don't even realize that if this is your stalker? You're giving them a titty show with the way your robe has fallen open just enough to reveal the soft curves of your breasts and stomach.

The rest of your tidbits and intimate curves are still concealed by the robe. Thank god for your failing dignity.

' If you're watching me, then wave, you sick freak.'

The final text goes, another round with the sleeping bear and your sharp stick. You want to prove it not only to yourself but to the small light not only in the police force's eyes but your friends when you told them you thought you were being stalked by some crazy person who gave you flowers and possibly hurt your potential one night stand.

The proof comes in the form of your phone screen gaining one small crack in the glass when you drop it without thinking. You miss the way the screen's light is suffocated by the cool hardwood of the floor, the next text you get back is unseen. You're too busy letting out a scream to care anyway because your proof for all those deniers in your life comes the way you demanded. With the human-looking shadow, you were having a staring contest with tilting its head up and waving up at you in your bedroom window.

' Hello up there, little mouse.'

[disneytva]

Disney Television Animation Starts 40th Anniversary Celebration At Annecy Film Festival

There's so much to do, getting ready just for you to celebrate #DisneyTVA40 at Annecy Film Festival.

For this year’s ever-inspiring Annecy International Animated Film Festival, Walt Disney Animation Studios, Pixar Animation Studios and Disney Television Animation, Disney Junior Educational Resource Group, Disney EMEA Animation, 20th Television Animation will unveil a handpicked selection of new releases that promise to bring fresh, captivating adventures to all the family.

 Disney Branded Television will present “40 Years of Disney Television Animation: Past, Present, and Future” — a look at how, since its launch in 1984, Disney Television Animation has been at the forefront of creating iconic animated content for kids. The panels and screenings are to honor the studio's 40th anniversary which will happen on December.

“40 Years of Disney Television Animation: Past, Present, and Future” 

Tuesday, June 11

A look at how, since its launch in 1984, Disney Television Animation has been at the forefront of creating iconic animated content for kids. The panel will feature previews of the "Phineas And Ferb" revival, "Primos", "Zombies: The Re-Animated Series", "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse 2.0" and Disney Television Animation's 100th show "StuGo". The panel will have a showcase of upcoming NDA content for Disney Channel, Disney Junior and Disney+ for the next 100 shows.

The panel will feature:

-Meredith Roberts Disney Television Animation CEO and Disney Branded Television VP of Animation

-Rob LaDuca ("Mickey Mouse Mixed-Up Adventures", "Mickey's Tale Of Two Witches","Mickey and Mickey and Minnie Wish Upon a Christmas", "Mickey Mouse Clubhouse 2.0")

-Dan Povenmire ("Phineas And Ferb","Milo Murphy's Law","Hamster & Gretel")

-Jeff Swampy Marsh ("Phineas And Ferb","Milo Murphy's Law", Disney Junior Educational Resource Group "Hey A.J!")

-Stevie Wermers-Skelton ("Monsters At Work")

-Kevin Deters ("Monsters at Work")

-Bruce W. Smith ("The Proud Family", "The Proud Family Movie", "The Proud Family: Louder And Prouder", "La Familia Avenúñez")

-Ralph Farquhar ("The Proud Family: Louder And Prouder", "La Familia Avenúñez")

“Storytelling Through Music,”

Thursday, June 13

The panel will feature a discussion on how music sparks happiness and joy in kids and family content across the studio's 40th anniversary.

This panel will feature:

Jay Stutler - Senior Vice President, Music, Disney Television Animation

Lynne Southerland ("Ariel")

Aliki Theofilopoulos ("Descendants: Wicked World", "Zombies: The Re-Animated Series")

Chris Houghton ("Big City Greens" franchise, "Welcome To Simpleton") @chrishoughton

Nic Smal ("Kiff", "NDA - Disney Channel Series")

Kay Hanley (Disney Junior Educational Resource Group "Kindergarten The Musical")

Big City Greens The Movie: Spacecation SCREENING

Friday, June 14

An open-air screening of the new movie, Big City Greens The Movie: Spacecation. based on the Disney Channel hit series Big City Greens

[krishna-sangini]

Can't believe cartoons like 'Selfie with Bajrangi' and 'Little Singham' are going to be nostalgia for today's kids :)

[hom3land3r]

I would of course make myself useful now you'll never be rid of me.

I would do anything for you.

And I mean anything.

-🐁

[pussinbootsandbountyhunter]

Once Upon a Studio (Series) Season One; Episode Fourteen: The Aftermath of the Boys Hang Out

Info: Milo and Jim are at each other’s throats after spending a night in prison while having a boys hang out which only lead Chicken Little and their friends to get them to put their differences aside and help Cinderella find her glass slipper and Aurora’s missing crown.

Characters that would be part of this episode: Jim Hawkins, Milo Thatch, Gaetan ‘The Mole’, Vincenzo ‘Vinny’ Santorini, Dr. Joshua Strongbear Sweet, Jebidiah Allardyce 'Cookie’, Commander Lyle Tiberius Rourke, Dr. Delbert Doppler, John Silver, Morph, Ben, Sarah Hawkins, Princess Kida, Mickey Mouse, Oswald the Lucky Rabbit, The Mad Doctor, Captain Amelia, Audrey Ramirez, Nick Wilde, Robin Hood, Little John, Chicken Little, Runt, Fish, Abby, Goofy, Max Goof, Donald Duck, Krisoff, Sven, Anna, Elsa, Eugene, Max, Rapunzel, Minnie Mouse, Daisy Duck, Ortensia, Cinderella, Prince Kit, Jaq, Gus, Aurora, Prince Philip, Olaf, the Genie, Chip and Dale

Hint: Episode is based on ‘End in Friend’ from My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic; Season 8, and this episode is a part two from the previous episode of Boys Night Out

Note: I'm planning to do some once upon a studio series as everyone wants to see if they can lend a hand for me by likes, comments and reblogs their ideas and create arts if they want!