#they weren’t acting

[lukolastrong]

The fact that this lip bite was improvised by the shameless Lukey Newts and was NOT in the script 🫣

A lot of the parts in this scene weren’t in the script… let that sink in. We have two “just friends” “just costars” people who improvised sexier parts to really sell their characters. Ok.. sure Jan… yeah they sold something to me and it wasn’t that they were just Colin and Penelope during this👀🙂‍↔️

[superbat-lmao]

Jason travels to an alternate universe where Bruce only cares about being Batman. He took in each of his kids to serve the mission, not be his children.

Now, faced with alternate versions of his family, Jason has to grapple with the fact that his Bruce does care, that he is his father. Because the man in front of him now, trying to send him home, isn’t even close.

[timethehobo]

Just had to doodle my Inqy Aidan and Dorian again. I’ve missed them sm and was so happy when I saw them next to each other.

Also Dorian being concerned over his amatus ahhh. 🥺

[miitokii]

shuake go to a miku concert

the song being performed is obviously Akatsuki Arrival (Producer: Last Note.)

see below the cut for extras!

Akechi: i hate miku as much as i hate pancakes >:(

Joker: oh true. you love both to the point it breaks your facade.

lol this started as me drawing my friend as akechi (they need to stop making akechi-aah expressions otherwise i’m never gonna stop)

hence the first is the redraw with the og pic used as a background lol. second is something goofy i did with the lighting idk

have the non blurred/text versions of the drawings too (with akechi’s unobscurred scarf, because i spent too long on that stupidly complicated pattern only for it to be covered up)

[homosexualworkaccount]

Someone get Christian Linke off the mic please im begging

[crowlixcx]

[howlsofbloodhounds]

Because people don’t seem to know, but Color already has been shown working with Dream/the Star Sanses, here and here. Pretty sure Color was literally shown interacting with the Stars long before Killer himself even.

[biowho]

Every Dragon Age I have wanted the Dalish to have a rich culture that is not belittled or maligned and every Dragon Age I have been reminded that most of the writers are white and Canadian but at least in the previous installments there was a resemblance of a respectful veneer laid out before them

[aclockworkreader]

i finally watched nosferatu (2024) and i’ve come to the conclusion that many people either don’t like or just don’t understand gothic horror as a genre. everyone was acting like it’s the most disturbing, depraved movie they’ve ever seen and quite frankly, i think it could have been much weirder. it’s a near perfect vampire movie. appropriately dark, erotic, and horrific with classic elements of the gothic genre. and a masterful (and surprisingly feminist) exploration of trauma and the dichotomy of shame and desire. it’s a story about being repulsed by your own desire and feeling unlovable because of it, but feeling it nonetheless. and overall i think the film does a fantastic job at working through these themes.

[dawn-the-rithmatist]

Give Britt Lower an award RIGHT FUCKING NOW

[milolunde]

YOURE TAILOR-MADE FOR THIS ERA

FOOLED BY THIS TRUTHFUL ACTING

—-

Invasion of the voicebank snatchers am I right

[andradrawsstuff]

-Before it all went wrong-

tpom ship week 2024, day 1: coffee ☕️

Here’s some peaceful pre-whatever-happened-in-Denmark Skans watching the sunrise 🌤️

[dykesynthezoid]

Think it would be fun if we found out Armand DID absolutely throw 18th century Lestat around at least a little bc you knoooow it would invoke the Magnus trauma. Also it just kind of makes sense bc Armand is so much older and more powerful (at least pre-Lestat Akasha juicebox); but honestly mostly the Magnus thing. Something about Lestat throwing himself into vampirism with the assurance that at least now he is powerful, at least now no one will ever have power over him like that again. And then out of nowhere finding he is actually sorely mistaken on that front.

[faramirsonofgondor]

I think there’s a gay Hollywood ghost that possesses middle aged male actors and makes their characters super mega queer cause the amount of times where an actor is just like “nah I didn’t play him gay.” and then later they’re like “yea I rewatched this and it’s somehow gay, idk what happened guys.” is astronomical??? Like fym you didn’t intend for him to be queer yet you stared longingly into your male costars eyes for an unreasonable amount of time and every time you touched the contact between you lingered unnecessarily??? what do you mean you stared your male costar in the face and flirted, like straight up insinuated you wanted to do the nasty with him (maybe not in so many words, but the insinuation was THERE and CLEAR), without even a hint of a joking tone in your voice????

W H A T ??????

BUT YOU STILL SAY ITS NOT GAY???? BRO IM PRETTY SURE GAY PORN ISN'T EVEN THIS GAY??? YOUR CHARACTERS CONSTANTLY RISK THEIR LIVES FOR EACH OTHER, THEY'RE DEVASTATED BY THE IDEA THAT THE OTHER MIGHT BE DEAD, ALL OF THEIR ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIPS CRUMBLE TO PIECES BUT THEY ALWAYS STICK WITH EACH OTHER, THEY COPARENT TOGETHER, OTHER CHARACTERS MAKE REMARKS/ASSUMPTIONS ABOUT THEM BEING IN LOVE/TOGETHER, THEY WORE MATCHING COSTUMES TOGETHER, THEY'RE GLUED TO THE HIP BUT WHEN THEY ARGUE ITS TO A DEVASTATING DEGREE - LIKE FULL ON NASTY, MAKING THEIR FRIENDS CHOOSE SIDES DIVORCE TYPE SHIT - AND ONE OF THEM HAS FUCKING RELIGIOUS TRAUMA???? LIKE DO NOT PLAY WITH ME SIR THEY ARE GAY FOR EACH OTHER, THEY WERE WRITTEN THAT WAY AND YOU SURE AS HELL PLAYED IT THAT WAY OTHERWISE SOMETHING ELSE DID (THE GAY GHOST).

(Sorry I lost control of this post the queer gods possessed me for a second to express their outrage.)

But yea so a gay ghost might be possessing these guys cause idk why else they wouldn't remember playing their super mega queer character as queer.

[wirtzed]

[penumbra-mayhem]

The Fall of an Alpha (ch. 1)

aka: Let's Mitigate This Blast Radius Before It Gets Out of Hand

Alpha Gabriel Shaw dies and everything falls apart.

Ch. 2 // ao3 // 1.9k words

(TW: death, car accident, grief)

EDITS: small grammar stuff, formatting, and new title!!!

———————————————

Sept 3. 2017, 11:04 pm

Between the raging storm outside and the blaring tv in front of them, they barely heard the knock at the door. It was only on the second attempt did they notice, and even then it could have easily been dismissed as thunder.

Milo gave David and Asher confused glances. “You guys expecting anyone?”

David shook his head. Asher shrugged; he paused the game and tossed his controller behind him as he said, “I’ll get it.”

Milo stretched out in the newly available couch space, calling out, “Could you get more chips while you’re up? We’re almost out.”

“Get them yourself!” Asher retorted as he padded down the hallway, “Unless you’re too short to reach!”

“Oh fuck right off!”

Asher chuckled as he reached the front door. He didn’t bother looking through the peephole before answering, but as soon as he saw who it was, he wished he had. It would’ve given him a moment to steel himself.

An officer was standing in the hallway, her dripping face starkly grim. Asher recognized her as a shifter from a neighboring pack.

“Evening. Beta David Shaw lives here, yes?” she asked.

Asher tightened his grip on the door handle. “Uh...yeah, he’s um my roommate.”

“Is he here now?”

“Can I uh, ask what this is about?” Asher replied, his voice cracking slightly.

“There’s been an accident.”

It felt like the ground gave out from underneath him. Like a blast of thunder had gone off in his chest.

“Hey, Ash, who is it?” David called from the living room.

Asher ignored him. “Gabe?” he whispered, eyes wide.

She gave him a small nod.

“Is he…just tell me, is he dead?”

She shifted her weight uneasily before nodding. “Yes.”

“Come in.”

He moved aside to let her in, closing the door behind them. “He’s uh, he’s in the…um...follow me,” Asher said breathlessly. His feet were like bricks as he led the officer down the hallway.

Milo and David looked up to see a very pale Asher hurry across the living room and practically cower in the corner.

“Who was…” the words died in David’s mouth as he and Milo looked over at the officer standing in the doorway to the living room, rainwater trickling down her coat and pooling at her feet.

David stood, an edge of authority in his voice as he spoke, “Officer. What can I do for you?”

“Beta Shaw, please, have a seat,” she replied.

He stayed standing. “What’s going on?”

“David…” Asher pleaded.

David’s eyes shot over and met Asher’s—they were already red and glassy. He lowered himself back onto the couch, then looked over at the officer as dread climbed into his chest.

She stepped forward, her voice stern but not unkind, “Beta Shaw. About forty-five minutes ago, Alpha Gabriel Shaw was in a car accident. He died on the scene.”

David had never really known grief before. Sure, his mom had died, but he had been too young to really know what was going on. A few distant relatives and pets had died over the years, too, but none of that had seemed to really affect him. The deaths of his grandparents had been sad, but not debilitatingly so. He'd begun to think that maybe death just didn't affect him that way. He thought maybe he just wasn't built to grieve.

It was instantaneous. It felt like shifting—a full and all-encompassing transformation. Grief ran like magic through his bones, warping his core and leaving him unrecognizable. Those in the room felt it—Asher especially. He almost reached out, almost said something, but David was already talking, his voice cavernous:

"Thank you, officer, for informing me of the situation. Where is his body now?"

The officer blinked in surprise, but quickly composed herself. "The coroner has taken him to the nearest morgue."

"I assume they'll want me there to confirm his identity?"

"Yes, but you don't have to go imme—"

"Can you take me?"

She furrowed her brow. "Yes, sir."

David moved to grab his coat, and Milo shot up. “David, wai—”

“Stay here, both of you. Don’t tell anyone what’s happened. I’ll call for an emergency meeting tomorrow morning,” David commanded, “I want to avoid as much panic as possible.”

And with that, he left, pushing through the doorway and into the hall. The officer took a deep breath before following.

Milo sank back down. The two heard the front door open and shut.

For a minute, they didn’t speak. The storm swelled outside, rattling the windows of the apartment. The pause music on the tv played over and over at a low volume.

Staring blankly at the wall opposite him, Milo mumbled, “We’ve gotta tell Tank.”

“We can’t. You heard David,” Asher croaked from his corner.

“David’s not in his right mind,” Milo retorted, his eyes beginning to burn, “Gabe is like a father to Tank.”

“…was,” Asher whispered.

Milo locked eyes with him, silently pleading.

"I...I'm going to the bathroom," Asher replied before hurrying down the hallway. He couldn't say yes, but he wasn't going to stop him. Especially when Milo was right. They needed to tell Tank before they heard it from anyone else or, god forbid, at the pack meeting.

Asher closed the bathroom door and leaned his weight against it as sobs tore through his body, robbing him of everything—sound, breath, strength. He slid down the length of the door to the floor in a silent, heaving heap as his mind spun.

He gave himself five minutes.

———————————————

Milo pulled out his phone, groaning in frustration as he struggled to read his screen, tears flooding his vision. He wiped his eyes with one hand as he pulled up Tank’s contact with the other.

Tank was somewhere loud; he could hear it through the phone.

“Miles, what’s up?” Tank all but shouted.

“I need you to come to Ash and David's,” Milo rasped.

“What? Wait-wait, gimme a sec,” Tank said. He could hear them pushing through a crowd, then the sound of a door opening and slamming shut, followed by the shush of rain. They must have moved outside.

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” Tank asked.

“No I just…I need you here. Now.”

He could hear the panic in their voice. “...I can be there in twenty—no, fifteen.”

“No! Don’t speed. Please, Tank, drive slowly. It’s late, it’s raining, it’s not—” Milo held his phone away from his mouth for a second as a sob slipped out, “It’s not safe.”

Tank must’ve heard it. Their words shot out of their mouth as they strode into the rain, “Is David there? Ash? I swear, Miles, if you’re hurt and not telling me—”

“Tank, please,” Milo begged.

“Okay! Okay, I’ll be there soon.”

“…we’ll leave the door unlocked. Drive slow.”

Once they hung up, Milo put his phone on the coffee table. He bit his clenched fist as tears pooled in his eyes and his chest convulsed.

————————————————

Everything was happening too quickly; David couldn’t keep up. One minute he was getting into his car, ready to follow the cruiser in front of him to the morgue. The next, he was looking down at a shrouded body, being asked if he was ready.

Ready? Fuck no, he wasn’t ready. He wasn’t ready for any of this. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Gabe wasn’t supposed to die suddenly, in his prime, leaving his 24-year-old son to pick up the pieces. Leaving him an orphan.

Orphan.

The word made a desert of his mouth. He was alone. Entirely. His last safety net. His last pillar of support. His last corner to hide in. Gone.

David was bare, flayed open for the world to see. He’d never felt so exposed, and it made him panic. But there was no time to panic. He was still the Pack Beta. He still had a job to do. And for as long as he could, he’d throw himself into it, fully. So David chiseled a hard look onto his face and nodded.

The sheet was pulled back.

Everyone always said David looked like his dad. He took so much pride in that comparison. But in that moment, he saw no resemblance. He didn’t have an out-of-body experience, seeing himself on the table. He didn’t spiral at the sudden realization of his own mortality spurred by the likeness of his dead father.

Because that wasn’t Alpha Gabriel Shaw, revered Founder of the Shaw Pack.

That wasn’t Gabe, loyal friend and loving father.

The body before David was just a man, battered and broken beyond repair. It felt wrong to claim this husk as his father, felt like a lie.

But David had a job to do.

“Yes, that’s him.”

————————————————

When sound returned to his body and his sobs were no longer silent, Asher muzzled them with a frantic hand. He couldn’t let Milo hear. He had to be there for him. Once his self-allotted time was up, Asher rose on shaky legs. He pressed a washcloth to his face. He straightened his clothes. He smiled.

Leaving the bathroom, Asher went down the hallway into the kitchen and began to heat some water. He pulled down mugs. He got out tea. He waited. He poured the water. He wiped his tears. He smiled.

The mugs clinked in his hand as he carried them into the living room. He set them on the coffee table. He placed one tea bag in each. He sat next to Milo. He smiled.

“You get ahold of Tank?”

“Yeah,” Milo croaked, “They’re coming over.”

“Good. That’s good.”

He smiled.

————————————————

After ten minutes, Milo’s phone began to buzz.

Asher removed his arm from around Milo’s shaking shoulders and grabbed the phone off the coffee table, handing it to him. Milo cleared his throat before answering.

“Tank?”

“Is he dead?!?”

Milo could hear the storm on their end, along with cars rushing past them. Were they still driving? He prayed to whoever or whatever would listen that they'd at least pulled over.

“Wh-what?” Milo stammered.

“I saw his fucking car, Milo! Smashed up in the middle of the fucking intersection!! Is Gabe fucking dead?!?”

Asher gaped at Milo; Tank wasn't on speakerphone, but they were shouting loud enough for him to hear.

“ANSWER ME MILO!”

Milo glanced at Asher, who was vehemently shaking his head no. Not now. Not this way. Wait.

“…yes, he’s dead—”

“And David?!”

“David wasn’t in the car. But Tank, I need you t—” Milo was cut off as the line went dead, “Tank? Tank?!?”

Asher grabbed Milo's arm.

“They-they hung up," Milo whimpered, "At least I think they did. I hope they did…oh god." He called Tank again. It went to voicemail.

"Fuck!" he yelled, throwing his phone across the room.

Asher rubbed the heels of his hands into his eyes, scrubbing away the hot tears before they fell but no doubt turning the lighter patches of his skin a blotchy red. He put his arm back around Milo as he fished out his own phone from his pocket and called Tank.

Voicemail.

He hung up and tried again.

Voicemail.

Milo growled and stood up abruptly. He grabbed his coat and moved towards his phone.

“Wh-where’re you going?” Asher stammered.

“To Tank’s place,” Milo replied, picking up his phone, “You stay, in case they come here.”

“Milo, it’s still really bad out there, maybe you should wai—”

“I’ll have to call one of Colm’s old coworkers, find out where the crash was.”

“What? Milo—”

“I need to drive by it. Maybe Tank’s still there. Or maybe,” Milo’s breath caught in his throat, “maybe they crashed too. I don’t know. So I’ll drive by there on my way to Tank’s. I’ll text you when I get there.”

Milo was out the door before Asher could speak. Alone, he crumbled, sobs overtaking him once more.