#this is a real scene that aired on television what the fuck

[eugeniedanglars]

eddie “canonically struggling to address his sexual desires due to his catholic guilt” diaz: i haven’t been able to cum since i found out my gf was a nun 😔

evan “canonically still unpacking his attraction to men” buckley: damn bro i wish i could help you out with that 😔✊

[prael]

I challenge you to a 20 minute writing challenge.

20 mins to write something based on 1 item on your left, and the 1st idol on your Tumblr Dashboard.

First idol on my dashboard: IVE Rei. Object on my left: A glass of milk.

MILK

18+ IVE Naoi Rei x male reader smut Masterlist

Words: 1250

"Rei!" You slam closed the door of the refrigerator and make for the one into the living room. "Rei! When the milk is empty, you put the carton in the recycling!"

There she is, sitting on the couch, with a glass full of the stuff. She shrugs and says, "The empty carton is to remind us to buy milk."

"You mean it reminds me that I need to buy milk, because god knows you won't!" You run a hand through your hair, which is starting to go frizzy in the heat and the stress.

"I buy milk all the time!"

"Name one time."

Rei just blinks and stares, like the request is absolutely foreign to her. Her mouth slightly parted as she struggles to find an answer.

"That's what I thought, but sure, you just sit there with a glass full of the milk I bought."

Rei looks down, into the depths of the glass. "Oh."

"Oh?" You're throwing your arms in the air in defeat. "'Oh' is the best you can do, Rei?"

"You want this milk?" Rei throws you a dark, mischievous look. "Sure, you can have it." Then Rei tilts the glass towards herself, letting some it spill over her chest and into her cleavage. "Oops."

"The fuck is wrong with you?"

Rei just smiles that same smile and pours a little more onto her chest, splashing against her bare skin and then spilling into her white shirt. She starts to shift around uncomfortably. "It's really cold," she says, laughing as milk soaks her.

"You're insane."

"It tastes real good you know." She undoes the top two buttons and reveals her glistening skin beneath. "Taste it."

"I'm leaving, Rei." You roll your eyes and make for the bedroom. "You know we can't do this shit anymore. Make sure you clean up."

"Leaving, huh?" Rei giggles and pours some more milk—it soaks into her jeans now. "Guess I better enjoy myself."

"Whatever," you say as you start to walk past her.

"Mmmm, yup, that's the spot. Oh geez, I'm totally ruining the sofa, this is great. It's getting me so wet. So cold, aah..." Rei's soft little moans start to fill the room. "Mmm, shit, this feels nice." She doesn't even look up at you. She knows what she's doing.

But even knowing she's crazy doesn't stop your feet from stopping in the living room. It doesn't stop you from watching, as more and more milk drips down her exposed skin, or as her white shirt clings desperately to her breasts. Or when her nipples push up against the material, when they show through so clearly. Or as she squeezes herself gently through her shirt. Her legs start to tremble. "Oh my god, this is amazing."

Your blood flows in only one direction, and with your heartbeat pumping you can feel all the annoyance leave your head. You stare, and Rei giggles into her drink. The last little dribble falls into her lap. Her legs twitch as the chill goes up and down her body.

"I really, really need someone to clean me up," she says as if she's talking to herself, and not to you, her roommate.

A second passes in silence. The distant voices from the television are like faint static in your ears.

Then the scene fades out as you lose consciousness of your actions. Fades out into a series of rapid stills. Snapshots of time and memory and images, flashing before you: of you throwing your pants to the side, of pulling her shirt over her head, of licking a drip of milk running down her navel, of the way she calls you an idiot in-between heavy breaths. There's her bra on the floor, her hand on your head, pulling you closer to her breast.

Your face a mess, and the milk now a hint sweeter as it lingers on your taste buds. Your hands struggling to unfasten her pants, peeling the material off her soaked skin. Her panties, the lacy black pair with the red bow in the middle, soon to find her ankles. You're tasting more of her than the milk now. Some twisted combination of the two on your tongue, your mouth exploring every inch of her cunt. The taste of her driving you mad.

Everything gets so fast. Time rushing by, skipping seconds in a sequence, one scene bleeding to the next with nothing in between. Everything overlaid with an unbreaking daze. The point of your head buried in her, her arms above her head and clenching tightly on the back of the sofa, and your tongue ravishing her pussy.

Only Rei's voice grounds you from your delirium. "Right there," she cries out. "Right there, yeah, lick right there... I'm cumming for you."

But the experience is a rush—her voice in your head sounds tinny and distorted. It barely makes sense to you, your own mind floating just out of touch. Your nerves are buzzing, and your arousal burns like an unstoppable wildfire.

The room shifts. Not literally, but in your perception, your field of vision twisting and turning until Rei is suddenly on all fours before you, her naked back and ass pointing into the air. Your hands caress her perfect skin, smooth like satin. Each touch sends shockwaves through the surface. You grab her hips, firmly, pulling her toward yourself and closer to your dripping cock, ready to fill her. And in a fluid motion, you slide yourself into her. She squeaks in delight.

Now your focus tightens on each thrust, each motion of you plunging inside Rei. You pull on her hair, gently, as she pushes her hips backwards to meet you. You told yourself a hundred times that the last time would truly be the last time. A lie you keep telling yourself. No matter how much it happens, she always manages to crawl her way back under your skin and into your blood. She's a disease that refuses to end, the toxicity you keep coming back to for more.

Her voice breaks out in an uncontrollable series of moans. Loud, forceful, and totally in control as you rock your hips back and forth. She grips your hand on her hip. "Harder," she cries, "fuck me, please, fuck me as hard as you can."

The warmth of her drives you further and further into a well of pleasure so deep you can't see the bottom.

Her moans become frantic and excited. Your breaths become deep and ragged, and your pulse pounds in your eardrums as a sweat comes to the surface. You close in and kiss her back, tasting her fair skin again. As the pace builds, so too does the pressure well up inside you—a sharp heat inside, about to break loose.

"Harder," Rei screams, and bites her lip as you deliver, you feeling her shudder and collapse as if every bit of strength left her all at once. Her body responds involuntarily to your movements, jerking in time. As it does, it sparks a response inside you. You bury your head between her shoulders and squeeze her hips as you cum—delight ripples and flows throughout your body.

She screams and trembles and collapses onto the sofa, pulling you down after her. You rest your chest against her back and kiss her neck tenderly. You share your heaving breaths and hot, sticky sweat. The room spins. Rei pants and speaks not a word.

In your head you tell yourself, 'this is the last time.'

[sp0o0kylights]

Indie horror filmmaker Eddie Munson, high off his first big (underground but notable) success, knows the movers and shakers of the film world have their eyes on him. 

They're just waiting to see if he was a one hit wonder before they open all the doors he's been trying to kick down. 

His next upcoming film is his chance, his shot at finally making it. Of being like Rob Zombie and the other creators he looks up to that masterfully blended metal and horror. 

This is his golden ticket. 

The project starts off smooth. His last success has greased the wheels, and things fall into place faster than ever before. 

He's got the best idea for this insane haunted house story, a true "mazes in mazes" type of deal with a queer twist. A real look at how a place can haunt a person just as easily as a ghost can.

 Everything's going swimmingly--until one of his leads drops out the day they're due to start shooting.

No call no show's, and later, Eddie will find out the guy got a last second call back to be a contestant on one of those Love Island bullshit romance gigs (and laugh his ass off when the main love interest takes one look at Billy Hargrove and goes on a five minute rant about ugly mullets on national television) but right now? 

He's fucked. 

He's called in every favor he has for this film. Maxed out every credit card he owns, tapped every contact, got on his hands and knees and begged his rising star journalist best bud to help him market it. (Which Nancy agreed too, for way less cash than she should have.) 

 Eddie can't get anyone on the phone, much less find a replacement actor and the amazing place they rented, that is so dark and wonderfully eerie, is booked out the rest of the year as an AirBnB. 

If he doesn't film now, he loses it all.

Cue the other lead, unknown theater actor Steve Harrington, watching his hair pulling, tire kicking, 'cursing and hopping while holding a toe' mental breakdown and asks why Eddie himself doesn't act in it. 

"Just go full Kevin Smith man. Act and direct." He says, with an easy grin. 

Jeff, Eddie's tried and true videographer, trades glances with Gareth and Grant (Eddie's long used special effects and makeup team, who double for about twelve other jobs because they're also his best friends and they're all in this together, make or break.)

"We don't really have a lot of other options." Gareth hedges. "You're already using me and Grant as background characters." 

Eddie, hands fluttering around his face as though trying to wave away this entire situation, squeezes his eyes shut and lets out a pained hiss. 

"Fine, fine!" He announces with the air of a man running towards a fire. "Fuck it, this is our one shot and so help me I will be shooting it!" 

Steve politely hides a laugh with a cough. 

"Chuckle all you want big boy, I'm going to tragically romance you so hard people will forget both of our characters actually live." Eddie snarls.

Steve, the handsome bastard, just winks.  "Looking forward to it." 

Eddie blushes, but hides it with a surge of frantic energy, conveyed by lots of yelling and moving and getting the ball rolling. 

Two days later, Steve would give the performance of a lifetime down on his knees, covered in a literal pound of fake gore, booty shorts and nothing else as he sobbed about how a lover could become a home. His hands clawed at Eddie's jeans before resting a tear stained face on a slim leg as he bent his body towards Eddie like it hurt to be away from him. 

Eddie would later receive equal praise in his own acting during the scene, with the world and every reporter in it asking how he conveyed an otherworldly panic so beautifully throughout Steve's performance. What was he thinking, to evoke those expressions on his face? 

The way his own pale hand, unmarred by blood and acting as a metaphor for the plot, would come to stroke Steve's cheeks.

Eventually he'd come up with a smooth polished answer that cheekily pleased his audience, but nothing would ever come close to the truth. 

("Eddie I've known you since grade school." Jeff said that night, a scant few hours after they'd wrapped. "You can act man, but not like that." 

Eddie made a wild "shut up" gesture, looking frantically over his shoulder before admitting; "You saw how close his face was to the prince of darkness!? I was seconds away from popping a boner next to his lips, in front of the 4K camera!” 

Eddie bounced into Jeff’s face so he could hiss: “He fucking had his chin on my thigh, Jeff, and I am only a man. A mere mortal!" 

"So we're gonna unpack all of that later." Jeff said finally, when he'd managed to get his mouth working and Eddie back out of his personal space. "But dude, we've talked about you calling your dick the prince of darkness." 

Eddie flipped him off.) 

One year later and critics named Corroded the best horror film of the year, praising the camera work, practical effects, and how there wasn't a soul alive who was surprised to hear Eddie and Steve were dating after their explosive on screen chemistry.

No one ever quite understood the prince of darkness jokes or why Steve mentioning it made Eddie blush, but that was a secret to find out later. 

Today on WIP’s I have no intention of writing, indie horror movie AU!

[impale-me-radio-daddy]

The Lookalike

☒ Summary: The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument. “No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.” You awaken in Hell as the near-spitting image of a certain infamous radio host. Unfortunately for you, you immediately fall into the clutches of his nemesis. 

☒ Warnings: hermaphrodite!reader, deer!reader, crying!reader, they/them pronouns used, explicit content, reader is in Hell for a reason, Valentino, canon typical scenarios.

☒ Author's note: This is now a complete series! Part I Part2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 6 BONUS SCENE Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Epilogue

The first thing you remembered after your death was an argument.

“What the fuck, Val? You can’t just come in here and dump a fucking body on my fucking floor. Christ.” The first voice was a man’s, the intonation weary rather than angry. He walked towards you, each footstep reverberating through the floor and through your tender skull. “Look, I don’t want to be in the same room with you right now.”

“This isn’t a body.” The second man spoke from behind you, and you could practically hear him rolling his eyes. Dimly, you took stock of your situation. You were on the floor. Your head hurt. Your body felt weird.

“One of your sluts, then. I don’t fucking care, just get it out of here.”

“No, this isn’t one of my fucking sluts.” The man behind you exhaled, frustrated. “This is a present for you. Something to help you work through your Alastor fixation.”

No, your body wasn’t just painful, but really weird, like all of your joints weren’t quite where you remembered them. You were pretty sure your ears were in the wrong place. What had happened?

“Oh, fuck you, Val. I don’t have a-” The man in front of you stopped mid sentence, an audible intake of breath. “Oh. Oh, fuck. What the fuck, Val?”

The second man made a pleased noise deep in his throat, and laughed. “See? I know what you really want.”

“Fuck me, that’s, uh, some resemblance.” The first man’s voice slowed, tone shifting from annoyance to something closer to awe. He moved closer, and you felt the air shift as he crouched next to you, getting a closer look. “Where did you get them?”

“We had some idiots posted near the east side boundary who were meant to look out for Alastor. This one was just lying in the street. Wrong color, but you know the saying- life gives you lemons, you see how many you can insert into one slut.”

“Fucking hell.” The first man leaned in closer, and you squinted open your eyes. Blue was most of what you could see. Glowing blue. He placed a hand on your shoulder, and you gave an involuntary sound, a static crackle and a whine like a capacitor with a faulty mount. “Oh fuck, they even sound like him! Val!”

“Whatever you say, snookums.” Val exhaled again, the air moving as he walked away. “Pheremones on the cabinet if you need them, you can thank me when you’re done with your new toy.”

“Where am I?” you asked, your voice feeling deeply unfamiliar, a coarse, crackling edge to it. Groggily, you lifted your head, still squinting. The man who had stayed was glowing blue, and you squinted at him uneasily, your eyes not quite working as you expected. Where were your glasses? “Who are you?”

“Oh, fuck, that voice is so fucking close. This is so great. Hey, can you look at me real quick?” A blue hand caught the bottom of your chin, guiding your head, and you found yourself staring into a rectangle of blue. “Can you say I’m sorry Vox?”

“Who’s Vox?” you asked, genuinely puzzled. “Why are you a television?”

“Ohh fuck.” The man let your chin drop, withdrawing his touch. “You really are new here, aren’t you? Fucking Val.” He sighed, and as your eyes adjusted further, you could see his face was digital, a pattern dancing across the screen. “Alright, first off, I’m Vox. Let’s get you up.”

His hand around your forearm, Vox helped you to your feet. Which you didn’t have. You had hooves. You looked away, feeling faintly nauseous, and nearly tripped as soon as you were standing, only Vox’s arm holding you up. You made another sound of distress, a static whine.

“Hey, hey.” Vox’s tone shifted again, from his previous intense interest in you to something softer. “You’ll be okay. Let’s get you to the bed.”

Stumbling, you made it to the bed, and Vox lowered you carefully onto the sheets. They were a dark blue, the thread count so high they were almost silky to the touch.

You pulled your legs up onto the bed and started feeling the length of them with your fingers, the familiar knee to the unfamiliar cleft of the hoof, your panic continuing to rise. “What’s happening to me? Is this even real?”

“Fuck me that’s hot,” breathed Vox, his gaze on your hooves for a moment before he tore it away. He sat beside you, hesitating before placing a hand on your shoulder. “Yes, this is real. Everyone goes through this, y’know. I’m a fuckin-” he gestured to his face. “You get used to it.”

Alarm flooded your body. Used to this? With your legs too long, and your ears- and whatever the fuck was growing out of the top of your head- you didn’t even want to think about that. Tears welled up hot in your eyes, and you swallowed down a sob, something that came out sounding like the pop of a small capacitor bursting.

Vox watched you with a hungry fascination. “Hey,” he said, reaching across to brush the wetness from your cheeks. “It’s hard. Fuck, I know it’s hard. Let me take care of you, okay? I can take care of you.” His arm snaked around your shoulders, and you found yourself pressed against Vox’s chest, his other hand a gentle pressure at the small of your back. Vox smelled faintly of hot plastic and windex, but his body was warm, and welcoming, and you nuzzled into his collar as the tears came, half static sobs that shook from your diaphragm up through your shoulders.

“Hey, baby deer, it’ll be okay.” Vox’s palm smoothed your back, rubbing slow circles over your shoulderblades as you cried. “I’ll take good care of you, you’ll see.” His claws went to your collar, undoing the top button of your shirt with thumb and forefinger.

You looked down, surprised, as Vox undid the second button. “What are you-”

You paused, staring into his eyes as you considered your situation. The other guy had dragged you here as a gift. Vox clearly wanted sex. He was warm and his hands were deft, and you were all alone in a strange new place. You had one piece of leverage, and that was your resemblance to whoever this Alastor guy was. Your best bet, realistically, was to play dumb, spread your legs, and negotiate once you had a better grasp of the situation. Or murder him in his sleep, either worked. If you started asking too many questions you risked Vox realizing you had a brain.

“What are you thinking?” Vox asked, hands paused over the third button of your shirt.

What was the dumbest, sluttiest answer you could give to that? You thought fast, improvising. “How do I kiss you?” you asked, blinking away tears. “I mean, can you kiss-”

Vox gave a toothy, slightly superior grin. “Oh, that? C’mere.” Saying that, he put his hand on the back of your head, and pulled you close. Your nose nearly touching the screen, you could feel the heat of him. He was bright so you closed your eyes, your lips pressing against the flatness. And then. Lips. A curve in the glass, and an opening. He probed his tongue against your lips, and you opened your mouth for him, letting him inside. The feel of his tongue was like the surface of the screen but more intense, a throbbing electrical signal as it twined against yours. His tongue was also huge, large enough to fill your mouth and extend down your throat, though Vox didn’t push, letting it instead extend between you, the length dripping with saliva. He kept one hand in your hair, the other on your back, and you found yourself crawling into his lap, sitting astride his thighs as you kissed. Your whole body was unfamiliar, but arousal took the edge off, a pulse that ran through your core and-

“Oh-” you breathed, breaking the kiss, becoming aware of the unfamiliar sensation in your own pants. An aching tightness and a pulsing slickness.

Vox withdrew his tongue, his expression one of concern. His gaze followed yours down to your pants, and a triumphant look returned. “Yeah, I have that effect on people.”

“I- I think I have more parts than I used to.” You swallowed, the static in your voice crackling. “Is that normal? Does everyone-”

“Show me.” Vox’s response was instant, and when you hesitated, his hand went to your waist, encouraging. A little shimmying later and you were on your back, naked from the waist down, cock engorged, cunt dripping.

“Oh, fuck. Fuck me. Fucking hell.” Vox’s screen glitched slightly as he knelt between your knees, his stare frank and hungry. “That is. Oh, man.”

You closed your eyes, feeling yourself heat under his gaze, tears threatening to well in your eyes again. “Does it… it’s not weird?”

“You are perfect,” said Vox, with the absolute conviction of a man about to ruin his own pants. He crawled up over your body, pushing your unbuttoned shirt open, his touches on your skin almost reverent, the static field from his screen making the fine hairs on your chest stand on end. He kissed you again, giving a groan of satisfaction as his clothed erection pressed against yours. But being exposed like this, even under worshipful eyes, was hard, and you felt the telltale ache in your throat, your face wet with tears as Vox pulled back a little.

He didn’t scold you but hushed you, hand gentle on your damp cheek. “It’s okay, I’m gonna take such good care of you, you’ve got no idea. So you just relax and leave it to me.”

Slowly, you nodded, looking up at him. Crying hadn’t been your plan, but it seemed to be helping.

“Fuck, man, those eyes.” Vox made a noise, continuing under his breath as he undid his belt. “I didn’t know those eyes could look so trusting, fuck me. You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?”

The tip of his cock was the same luminescent blue as his tongue, the shaft darker. He held your knees under his arms and pushed into you, his stare for you as greedy as it had been from the moment he first saw you, and as good as his word he was gentle with your body, the strokes sweet and slow. You knew intellectually that his gaze was for some guy who happened to look like you, but even so, it was hard not to get caught up in the moment, not with the attention he paid to you, optimizing the slow roll of his hips to hit the good spots inside you as his fist closed over your cock, pumping in time.

A soft mewl escaped you, the first sound you had made without the static filter, and Vox grinned. “See? I’m taking good care of you, aren’t I?”

“Y-yes,” you managed. The way he was fucking you made it difficult to form a coherent sentence.

“Say my name. Say Yes, Vox.”

“Y-ye-” you gave a whimper mid word as he hit the good spot inside you again, palm tightening around your shaft. You swallowed, and tried again. “Yes, Vox- ah!” You felt a twitch from his cock as you said his name, a line of broken pixels down his screen.

“Oh, fuck me, that’s the good stuff.” Vox made a staccato groan, fingers briefly tighter around your shaft. “Tell me you’re sorry, and you should have joined my team.”

“I’m s-s-” Sorry vanished into white noise as Vox set a harsher pace for the two of you, the roll of his hips becoming a snap, making your breath catch as your pleasure built. “I’m sorry Vox, it was a mistake, I should have joined you-”

“You’ve joined me now though, haven’t you? Gonna cum on my cock,” said Vox, with the absolute conviction of a man who could already feel the twitch of your cunt around him.

“Fuck,” you whimpered, feeling sensation crest. You hadn’t expected to cum, not in this unfamiliar body with this unfamiliar man, but the combination of his intensity and the dexterity with which he fucked you proved your undoing, sensation pulled tight through the core of you.

Vox’s expression was an indulgent leer. “That’s right, baby, let go,” he said, and you could only give soft animal and radio interference noises in response as he tipped you over your edge. Your orgasm was a hot white second of nothing but bliss that left your new body trembling and twitching. You came over your own stomach and chest, Vox giving a groan of his own when he saw it. “Fuck me that’s a fucking work of art.”

With you spent he worked on his own end, both hands on your hips, fucking a brisk rhythm into you that had you whimpering through your aftershocks.

“Alastor,” Vox groaned as he came, his eyes glazed as he looked down at you. His spasm into you was another new sensation, a staticky sort of frisson run through you, a shiver through your core and up your spine as his cock pulsed inside you.

You stayed in that position for a few moments, both of you still and panting, Vox not yet soft inside you, still holding your legs under his arms. Tentatively, your reached out and touched his forearm, and this stirred him out of his fugue. “Shit,” he said, blinking. “Right, uh, don’t move.” Gingerly, he withdrew from you, your cunt giving one last echo of a spasm in protest, and you watched him from the bed as he retreated into the bathroom, returning with a damp towel and tissues. “Let’s get you cleaned up,” he said.

Vox lay alongside you, wiping your cum from your chest with an attentiveness that was equal to any he had shown while fucking you. His strange, rectangular head was warm when the sides brushed against your skin, and you found yourself scooting a little closer to his body. You caught a glimpse of a pleased expression on his face before he pushed a finger under your chin and you tilted your head back so that he could clean the last of the cum from your collarbones and neck. True to his word, he was taking good care of you. Maybe you wouldn’t have to murder him in his sleep after all.

“So, who is Alastor, anyway?” you asked. Vox froze, but you pushed a little further. “I mean, if I’m pretending to be him, it’s better if I know, right?”

“Oh, man.” Vox gave a deep sigh. “Fuck, where do I even start?”

You nestled closer to him, tucking your head against his shoulder, and after a little awkward adjustment, he settled with his arms around you. He radiated heat, and you felt yourself relaxing at the physical contact, your heart rate and your breathing slowing. Tilting your head back, you brushed your nose against the outer frame of Vox’s head, and he gave a soft sigh of contentment. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” you said, playing the ingénue.

“No, no, you’re right.” Vox tilted his head, his strange lips brushing against the tips of your ears and making you shiver. “It’s a long story, but I guess you should know.”

[bobbeshwar]

sorry i just wanted to hear you s(cream)!

☆ summary: ghostface is in town and it’s either fuck or flee… we all know what you chose…

★ warnings: ghostface!sukuna, fem-reader, reader is a serial killer fanatic, sort of same setting as scream 1(so early 2000s), smutt, dark themes, mask kink, chase play, weapon usage(knife), ghostface hates to see reader coming, a little bit of cuting, dirty talking, degradation, a little bit of voyeurism, sukuna is super mean(but like duh), oral, rough sex, dumbification, choking, spanking, suffocation, hair pulling, squirting. come eating/swallowing, etc.

☆ word count: 3.4k~

★ a/n: boomshakalaka yes gawwwwddd

also thank you to the loml @alainatranquility for the idea☺️

The grainy image of the masked killer flickering on your tiny television set should have frightened you. Should have had you double-locking your doors and crawling under your covers, praying to wake up safely. 

“We advise everyone to stay indoors...” The reporter's voice droned on, your gaze locked on that blurry photo. A ghastly white mask open in a scream, blood spattered on the knife clutched in the killer’s hand. You could feel your thighs clenching, breath hitching as you shuffled on your living room couch. 

This was a real life serial killer in your town. A murderer who killed people for sport. Not a person in a documentary or character in a scary movie. If he’d ever met you he would probably gut you like a fish and have no mercy doing it. 

You held your breath at the thought: those gloved hands, one roughly grasping your throat and the other driving his knife repeatedly into your side. Fuck, you were wet. 

You’d been following the masked killer for weeks. Waiting with bated breath for another news report to air out about his latest victim. Lamenting with your friends about the serial killer invading your town knowing you clutched your sheets and came nightly to the thought of him invading you.

You tried to find him multiple times, rushed to crime scenes in the wake of his murders hoping to catch a glimpse, get a glance at the man absolutely ruining the equilibrium of your small suburban town. 

But he was always gone without a trace. Nowhere to be found. The news gave updates on each new kill added to his list, but couldn’t figure out where he was, who he was. This ghost face—what the news began calling him—was like something out of a movie, a fantasy. 

And so you planned to do the next best thing: use yourself as bait. 

Ghostface killed mostly at night, so it was 1am when you found yourself trekking through the woods, awaiting your could-be killer. 

A distant howl had you gasping as you whipped your head towards the sound, the only source of light the full moon hanging distantly in the sky. Twigs snapped beneath your boot-covered feet as you shuffled through the seemingly endless forest, feeling a little stupid for standing in the woods, waiting for a serial killer to come find you. At this point, you’d instead be dead from an animal attack. 

But this is what attracted the killer, you thought. 

You tried to seem open, inviting, like you were some dumb girl, walking foolishly in the woods at night. Maybe you should have brought your ex, they’d put up a good front, and lord knows they were itching to see you again. You wouldn’t mind if Ghostface took them out. 

But no, this was better. There’d be no witnesses to your shame. No eyes as you lived out your darkest desire. 

You hear a twig snap behind you and you turn quickly towards the sound, heart thumping in your chest as your eyes roam across the patchy forest, silent despite the noises. You move ahead, your thighs slick and face hot as you hold your coat a little tighter, fear coursing through your body and setting it practically aflame. 

A rustle sounds and you jump, turning once again towards the source of the sound, just a bunny in the bushes. You heave a sigh of relief turning forwards to continue walking—

Your breath is stolen by the killer standing before you. How could he even be that quiet?? He was so…

Big. Enormous is the only way to describe him. Huge broad shoulders covered by black robes, so tall he could probably grab the highest branch of the nearest tree with ease. Towering over you, he seemed more monster than man. Or maybe that was the signature ghost mask covering his face and the gleaming knife in his big gloved hand. 

He was everything and more than what you imagined him to be. You crumpled to the ground as your legs give way and you try to look scared, to will away the smile threatening to consume your face and your eyes already clouding with lust. 

Ghostface approaches you, each step making your body tremble with need as he towers over you. You somehow twist your face into a terrified expression, taking in those big thighs straining the confines of his robes and the shadow cast over your face as he stares down at you and tilts his head. 

Fuck, you think you came. “P-Please don’t kill me.” You whisper, and Ghostface says nothing. Not surprising. 

But what is surprising is his gloved hand grabbing a tight hold of your hair and yanking you towards him. 

Pain flares in your scalp and you hold back a moan, but a whimper still escapes from your lips. Maybe you sounded pained(you probably didn’t). 

He leans down, masked covered face inches away from yours and you can’t even hear him breathing. His left hand clutching you like a rag doll by your hair and his right holding his knife. Which he brings to your neck, the sharp end nearly pressing into the skin just below your chin. 

You were practically trickling into the grass at this point. “Please, please…” you softly beg, and he pushes the blade into your skin, you let out a squeak from the contact, pain and pleasure dueling within you as you feel the blood dripping from your neck. But no, he couldn’t kill you just yet. 

You break free of his hold. Somehow. Darting off quickly away from him on your trembling legs. The cut he made in your skin wasn’t deep, you wouldn’t bleed out or anything. But if you hadn’t run the fun would have been over, he would have driven that knife into your neck and watched you choke to death on your own blood. 

And why did that thought make you more horny?? 

You stop to take a breath, propping yourself up against a nearby tree, chest heaving and skin sticky with sweat. You chuck off your jacket, goosebumps immediately rising on your flesh as you stand in nothing but a practically see through tank top and a pair of leggings. Perhaps he’d get a load of your tits transparent against the cheap fabric of your shirt, and want to brutally fuck you. 

The thought almost has you slipping your hand beneath your leggings and finishing against that tree. But you needed to keep running. You jog for a few more minutes, then break into a full blown run when you catch a glimpse of a shadow in the distance. 

You’re no athlete, so it only takes a few more minutes before you’re toppling to the ground, heaving in breaths. He’d find you for sure. 

Crunch, crunch, the sound of footsteps, walking calmly in your direction. You tried to stand, propping yourself up against the nearest tree but you were spent. It’d only been what, fifteen minutes and your legs weren’t fucking working. Shit. 

Still you manage to crawl, hoping to keep up the fun as long as you could. His footsteps are getting louder and louder, till your vision is obscured by the shadow of his massive body and he leans down to grab you and throw you into the nearest tree. 

You let out a groan from the pain blooming in your back, but the sensation is driving you mad with need. He was so rough with you, no regards for your life. Treating you like a mere object. 

His hand comes up to your throat before you can even think another sinful thought, and your thighs feel damp. You barely manage a whimper, his hand pinning you against the wall by your neck. 

He’s trying to kill you, you remind yourself. Maybe don’t think about how close his big body is to yours and how you can hear the sound of his breathing. You wondered what he looked like under the mask, if he was as elated as you were right now. 

You’re struggling to breathe, remember? Oh right, your eyes roll back as your breath is stolen from you and your face almost purples. If you weren’t currently suffering from asphyxiation, you’d realize your feet were well off the ground and you were being dangled against the tree. 

“Pl…ease,” you gasp, grabbing at his hand. But his hold was like fucking steel, “don’t…kill me..u..se me.” His grip loosens for the slightest second and you take advantage of it, breaking free and tumbling to the ground. You inhale mouthfuls of air as you grab at your bruised throat. 

The jig was up it seemed, so you did not hesitate as you latched onto him, pressing your face into his crotch and glancing up at him with as innocent of an expression as you could muster, “Please? I can be really good.” 

He immediately shoves you off, your back smacking once again into the tree. You groan again, guess he was immune to your charm.

“Fucking freak.” You almost miss it as you rub at your stinging lower back. But it’s unmissable, the sound of his voice. Deep, possibly made deeper by the confines of the mask and so fucking perfect. 

And he used it to call you a freak. 

You can’t take it anymore, you prop yourself up against the tree, slipping a hand into your leggings and rubbing yourself through your already soaked panties. Moaning loudly as you looked up at him. 

You stuffed three fingers into your sopping pussy, and he watched. Body language slightly open, as if considering if you were even worth the fuck. 

“Please, please fuck me. U-Use me.” You moaned, absolutely ruining your leggings. “You can kill me after, fuck—I need you.” Your body arched into your own touch, head falling back against the hard bark as you practically rode your fingers, thumbing at your clit and whining as your orgasm practically took you—

But you didn’t get the chance, because he was grabbing you by your hair once again, roughly bringing your face into the huge visible bulge hiding beneath his robes. You looked up at him and he down at you, before he gestured with the knife in his right hand for you to get to work.

You quickly pawed at his robes and excitedly undid his pants. Hands trembling as you set that monster free. Fuck, he was huge, bigger than anything you’d ever seen. Would this even fit in you?? Long, thick and covered in veins, there was a black tattooed band around the base that somehow made him hotter. You wondered where else he had tattoos.

Your eyes were practically heart shaped as you gave a few shallow licks to his flushed tip, shuddering at the addicting taste of his precome on your tongue. Each stripe of your tongue along his cock had you moaning, slipping your hand between your legs to rub at your clit as you took him into your mouth. 

His hand was still dusted in your hair and he was still looking down at you, watching you drool all over his cock. He applied pressure to his hold, forcefully shoving his length down your throat. You didn’t even have a moment to protest as your eyes rolled back and you struggled to breathe. He was fucking his cock into your drooling mouth like you were some sort of sex doll. Sliding in and out of your mouth like you were just another fleshlight.

You could feel your mouth swelling from the friction, hear the sounds of your gagging on his fat cock, feel the tears rolling down your cheek as you nearly suffocated, your hands digging into him as you simultaneously wished for the torture to end and wanted it to last forever. 

It did end, both thankfully and unthanfully as he emptied into your mouth, fucking a few more shallow thrusts into your face before he indelicately let you go. 

You coughed immediately, struggling to breath as his cum trickled from your lips. His hand didn’t leave you as he brought it down to your chin, keeping it closed. He was silent of course, but you could feel the threat radiating off of him as he looked down at you: he wanted you to swallow all of it, despite the fact that you were struggling to breathe. 

You gleefully obliged, feeling his warm his come sliding down your throat. He propped your mouth open with his gloved thumb and you stuck your tongue out, showing him you’d done as told. 

“Have I been good?” You pondered, with the ghost of a smirk, you brought your hand to your mouth swiping your finger across your bottom lip before sucking it into your mouth. 

And to your surprise he had a response, “You fucking slut.” Your pussy clenched almost immediately, a moan making its way past your lips. Once again, he grabbed you by your throat, dragging you off the ground and pinning you to the tree. 

He brought his knife to the front of your lose tank top, dragging it through the fabric till it tore and your chest was exposed. You could feel the cool of the blade against your inner thigh as he pushed your legs apart, tearing apart your leggings. 

With no warning—of course no warning—he stuffed his cock into you. You could barely choke out the words, “you’re too big!” around his hand on your throat, before he’d pushed himself all the way in with a slight grunt. 

The stretch was unbearable, even stuffing three fingers into your pussy prior was practically useless. Still, the pain of his fat cock digging in you set pleasure shooting through your body, had you tightening around him as you ground into him and he bottomed out inside you. 

“There’s always freaks like you.” You heard him grunt as he pulled you down on his cock, “fucking whores that want to be filled.” You managed a strangled moan as he thrusted into you. “Is that right?”  

You didn’t respond, not like you could when he was strangling you and giving you the best cock you’ve had at the same time.

 “I asked a fucking question.” You heard him say and felt his grip loosen. You could moan freely now as his cock bullied into that spot that had you gasping. 

“Yes! Yes, I’m a f-fucking whore!” You slurred, dizzy with the perfect mix of pleasure and pain. 

“Oh shut up, slut.” He pulled his cock out of you, letting you fall to the ground like you were no more than an object. 

You couldn’t even be surprised, too cock drunk to do anything more than paw at him on your knees, “Please, I’ll be a good whore for you, I’ll let you fill me up—”

He chuckled, a low perfect sound. This time you couldn’t hide the whimper that resounded at the back of your throat in response. “Let me?” His gloved hands fisted his cock in a way that couldn’t have been comfortable, but he still spurted ropes of come that landed directly onto your face and chest. He pulled you towards him, shoving his fingers into your mouth so hard you nearly gag, “I’m gonna do whatever I fucking want to you, because you’re my kill. Mine to use before I end your useless life.” 

“Yes, yes, ’m sorry—” you gargled around his lips.

“Did I say you can fucking talk?” You quickly and frantically shook your head. “Get up and turn around.” 

You obliged quickly, standing on your shaky feet, nude as you could really feel the cold night air against your naked skin, goosebumps pebbled your trembling flesh, your chest heaving and nipples hard. You turned around, facing bark, shivering through the cold of the night as you awaited his orders. 

His hands grasped your ass and you gasped, “This is what you wanted, huh?” His fingers made their way through the holes in your leggings before effortlessly ripping them and your panties off. “Some sick fantasy that your whorish mind conjured up.” His hand was around your neck again, pushing your face into the tree until you couldn’t speak, then prying your legs apart to stuff his cock into you again. 

The different angle forced a moan from your throat, fuck, you could feel him practically in your stomach. If you pressed your lower stomach you felt there would be a bulge there, an imprint of his cock buried into you with no care for how deep it could actually go.  

 “Fuck, I hate freaks like you.” He grunted into your ear, hand tightening around your neck, as you weakly whimpered, “Everywhere I turn I run into worthless sluts like you.” 

If you weren’t struggling to breath and getting fucked like an animal you would have gave a snide response. Of course he had women trailing after him, you weren’t the only freak out there with a mask kink. It was a little annoying that your pussy wasn’t the only one he used and abused. 

But fuck, you couldn’t think about that now, his fingers found its way back into your mouth again as he fucked you, your eyes rolling back and lips sucking sloppily at them. There was this delicious sound of skin clashing as his hips roughly met yours each time he pushed his dick inside you and you wondered if there was anyone watching, if someone found themselves in the woods and could see you getting used like a slut by the town killer. 

“So fucking tight.” He ground out, “It’s a shame. I should keep you as my fucktoy, just come in all your holes whenever I need it.” You moaned louder at the suggestion, pressing back against his thrusts, “but killing you will be so much more pleasant.” 

“Mmn-ffuck, y-yes, yes, please use me.” You couldn’t help the words leaving your lips as your skin scraped against the bark, sensitive nipples stimulated with each thrust and his fingers still in your mouth, pulling you apart. 

“Oh shut it.” He punctuates his words with a slap on your ass and you nearly bite his fingers. 

“Sorry, s-sorry, ‘m sorry.” You fight a smile around his fingers as he lays another slap at your ass. “So good, so goodd.” You slur and another follows it, your ass stinging. “‘M sorry—I c-can’t.” You absolutely can. 

“You’re doing it on purpose aren’t you?” He grabs your stinging cheek and squeezes, “There’s nothing you’re not into is there, you fucking slut?” 

You can’t answer because you’re about to come, your thighs quiver, pussy clenching around his cock as you fuck yourself back on it, rutting into it again and again until you come on him with a barely there whine. He follows you soon after, emptying his balls into you until the warm cum spills out of you and drips down your thighs. 

He slips his hand between them, gloved fingers pushing the come back inside as you whine from the overstimulation. “Keep it inside, you wanted it, right? Now it’s gonna be the last thing you fucking feel.” 

He’s left you once again, and you’re on the ground, naked and spent. Stuffed full of come and trembling. 

You never heard him drop the knife, nor did you hear him pick it up. But it was in his grasp as he loomed over you, mask still on his face, still setting your pussy aflame. 

 “P-Please, not yet!” You begged, latching yourself to his thigh as you rutted yourself against him. He scoffed as he watched you, your plump lips wobbly, eyes wet and pleading up at him cloudy with lust. “I can do it again, stuff me full, please.” You begged, grinding your soaked pussy against his leg until you came, squirting your juices all over him and the ground below.  

“What a fucking animal.” He scoffed, kneeling down to you, “It almost makes me feel bad for wanting to kill you.” He murmured, fingers almost delicately clutching your sweat and come soaked face, thumbing at your numb lips. At this point you were practically seeing two. 

“Maybe I’ll keep you.”, he cocked his head, before reaching for his face and pulling off his mask. You’re so delirious you can barely acknowledge it, can barely take it the handsome edges of his face, the tattoos perfectly scrawled across his skin and his red eyes staring almost endearingly down at you. There’s a slight smirk on his pink lips and you’re blinking into unconsciousness before hearing his last words. 

“You’re my kill after all.”

[theitgirlnetwork]

Earn It

Ch. 8 : Put Me On A Feeling I've Never Had

Note: Yeahh my bad, I was not supposed to be gone so long. I am so thankful anyone still here, I still love this story, my life just started lifing again you guys. Thank you for the notes, reblogs, comments and messages. Thank you to those who created things in honor of my story. I love interacting with you guys and hearing thoughts (constructively, I'm sensitive). This one is pretty long and Art and Heaven centric, but the full gang will be around in the next chapter. Once again thank you for the love and I hope you're still rocking with me. I was a little rusty but we're getting back into it. Also...there's a nasty scene, MDNI. Grown folks...the song I feel like is playing in the background is Novacane by Frank Ocean. If you guys have any songs you feel like apply to any characters or relationships in my story, please share! Thanks, hope you enjoy! <3

Warnings: Cheating (fr this time y'all :(), explicit sexual content (MDNI!!!!!), small mention of disordered eating, and some strong language.

Translation: Tanti baci- Many kisses; la mia dolce piccolina - My sweet little girl

Taglist: @spookystitchery@anehkael@fkaams@butterflyybabe@sun2flower @holierthancunt @silkenthusiasts @wolflover384 @liziihorta @summerssover @jackierose902109

2019 (California)

“Let’s go.” Tashi mumbles, tying the thick hotel robe around herself as she shuffles across the floor, forcing her lip not to curl as her scar peeks out from the heavy, white fabric. 

Art releases a deep breath, rolling from his stomach onto his back, determinedly keeping his eyes shut. His large hands blindly feel across the painfully cool, silk, sheets. Painfully empty, silk sheets. The folds slip along his fingers as he feels for a body that’s not there, finally giving up and forcing his eyes open to push off of the soft mattress. It’s not like it was offering him any comfort anyway. 

He pulls on a pair of shorts over his underwear before walking sluggishly to the bathroom to pee  and brush his teeth as he hears the hotel door clicking open, knowing none of them belong to the two people that he wanted to see the most. 

Like a zombie he stalks his way into the suite, the room filled with people Tashi hired in an effort to keep her machine oiled and running. Nutritionist, masseuse, physical therapist, assistant coach. All bustling around, shaking up the protein shake he was allowed to have in lieu of the real, delicious food that he could hear the rest of them murmuring about ordering. 

Art falls into his routine on autopilot, letting his personal trainer stretch his legs as he lies on the floor, stretching his back with the resistance band. All under the scrutiny of Tashi’s watchful eye out of her peripheral vision, focus flickering between Art and the television. He clenches his jaw and tries to drown out the sound of what feels like the 50 thousandth reporter questioning if today’s match was going to be the one that pulls him from his losing streak. 

Maybe they should get off their asses and try to see him on his court. Maybe then they wouldn’t feel so comfortable talking shit behind a desk and a camera while he was working his fucking ass off. 

“Art, relax your shoulders. You’re tense.”

That earns him another glance from Tashi, lips pursed as she pops a strawberry into her mouth.

The blond corrects his form, releasing the air constricting his chest, letting his eyes slip up toward the ceiling in resignation. 

After finishing his warm up stretches Art downs the protein shake, feet dragging lazily along as he stands in the kitchen trying to psych himself up for the day.

Donaldson has taken the win in several tournaments, even making his mark at Wimbledon, several grand slams-

That’s right, Shane. The only thing the player is missing is that elusive U.S. Open. Now, he was a fan favorite prior to a painful injury last spring, but has made a full recovery. And yet, he seems to be in some sort of slump, hopefully with the support of the new team hired by his coach he’ll be able to take the victory today in his match against DeMario-

Tashi slowly brings her gaze upward, raising her eyebrows at Art as he looks at her, dropping the plastic remote back onto the coffee table after muting the tv. Shrugging, she brings her coffee to her lips and sits back against the cushions, crossing her legs and facing the tv again. 

Art’s lips part as he works up the courage to say what he’d wanted to say for the last few months…hell maybe years. 

Before the words can come out, the door beeps again. The only other person with a key card clicks the door open and once again, the words get caught in Art’s throat, it’s too big of a risk. 

“Daddy!”

The little voice has Art’s heart clenching, blue eyes softening immediately as dark curls and big brown eyes come bouncing toward him, he’s bending to catch the girl attempting to fly into his arms, only to be stopped short.

“Hold on baby-” there goes the other voice, the one that makes his heart speed up instead of clench. Heaven lifts the squealing girl, grunting as she hoists her onto her hip, nuzzling her nose into her cheek. “Gotta let Daddy get ready for work right?”

“But I want to play with him.” his little girl whines and he could weep.

“Oh, you will, la mia dolce piccolina. But first, Daddy’s gotta get ready to play some tennis, you remember why?”

“Because he’s the best tennis player in the world.” She squeals. 

Heaven’s lips roll inward as she glances at Art then Tashi and then back to Art, whispering a quiet, “Yep.” Before walking over to the couch, lowering the little girl to Tashi, relishing in her giggles as she dangles her over the back so she can reach Tashi’s face, “Go on, tanti baci.”

Tashi smiles, accepting the uncoordinated kisses the child scatters all over her face, mumbling a thank you against her cheek before sending a meaningful look to Heaven, nodding her head in Art’s direction and turning back to the TV in front of her and turning the volume back up.

Art rolls his eyes, cocking his head back as Heaven makes her way over to him, the little girl squirming in her arms to smack her hands on her father’s cheeks. “Oh, is it my turn?”

“Yes!” She grins, cheeks dimpling in a way that makes him melt.

“Yes?” He cheeses back, blowing a raspberry into her hand and taking in each messy kiss his daughter plants on his skin. “Thank you, princess.” When his daughter releases Heaven adjusts her on her hip, a soft smile on her own face as she watches the interaction. Art stares down at her, watching the smallest of movements she gives him, her eyes flicking up to his and just as quickly turning away. “Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She says gently, finally giving him her eyes fully, pouty lips just begging for him to take them with his own. 

Art brings his hand to her chin, tilting it up to guide her to meet him halfway, sighing in relief when her eyes flicker closed in anticipation of a kiss. He places his other hand over his daughter’s eyes with a breathy chuckle, inching closer to her lips only to be stopped short by the creek of someone jumping up from the couch. 

“We need to get down to the courts.” Tashi calls, not looking up from her notebook, but clearly disapproving from the look he’d grown to know very well over these last few months. 

Before Art can do anything, Heaven recoils, pulling back again, this time shuffling a couple steps away, ponytail bouncing behind her as she walks between Art and Tashi, not offering either of them so much as a glance. Her voice fades as she disappears towards the kids room in the suite, the last thing he hears is her murmuring into the little girl’s ear. “Should we check on sissy? Maybe we can all order some breakfast before we watch Daddy play.”

“Pancakes!”

“Pancakes? Pancakes are for big girls, are you a big girl who can walk on her own without running to get Daddy?”

“Yes, I am.”

“That’s good, mama, let’s get you some pancakes then.”

Art stares down the hallway, picking at the skin on his fingers as he tries to catch the rest of the conversation. Just a little bit more.

But he couldn’t have more, at least, not right now. He’d have to settle for this little bit he got. So, he scrubs his hand down his face, and grabs one of his shirts and follows Tashi out of the door, biting back a yawn.

“-and the pool.”

“And the pool? That seems like a lot of fun. I wonder when you’re going to practice your reading.” Heaven hums. She holds the door leading to the tennis courts, guiding the little girl through first before adjusting the two year old on her hip, following closely behind. “Don’t run, Aurora, walk to the seat please.” 

Her heels clack as she walks along the gravel walkway, nuzzling her cheek against the toddler in her arms, offering a soft smile to the man who helps her up to the seats reserved for Team Donaldson. Slipping shades onto her face, Heaven ducks her head to hide away from the reporters, suddenly noticing her arrival and snapping some distant pictures before they decide to swarm her. 

Tashi’s mother leans forward, kissing Heaven’s cheek, murmuring in her ear for her to pass her the baby to hold in the row behind her. Heaven crosses her legs, bouncing her knee nervously as she stares at the empty court. She bites her bottom lip until she tastes metal, and then takes to toying with the rings on her finger. 

Today is a big deal. 

The match is nothing serious. Just some young, new player who was probably absolutely pissing themselves because they’re going against the Art Donaldson. But Art’s been…struggling. She doesn’t know what’s causing it, this slump he’s in. They’ve been operating the same way for the past few years, but suddenly, it seems like Art’s checked out. It bothers her to watch him just go through the motions, like a little worker bee with no thoughts or ambition of his own. Heaven can’t stand how uninterested he seems in everything. Tashi seems to think it’s a confidence issue, at least that what she tells Heaven as she rolls her eyes and scrolls through his dropping stats. Art’s mother thinks that he needs to take another break. 

Heaven doesn’t know what she thinks. What she does know, is that Art hasn’t been fucking winning. And when Art doesn’t win, none of them win. 

“Excuse me, miss?”

Heaven jolts from her thoughts, turning to look up at a brunette lady, her hair pulled back into a probably once neat bun, mussed from rushing around, working the event. She adjusts her headset and looks down at Heaven with a smile. “Hi, yes?”

“Team Donaldson wants to see you in their waiting room.”

2007 (California: UCLA Campus)

Art claps as loud as he can as Heaven and the rest of the cast takes their bow. He watches her curtsy deeply with a pretty smile on her face, her chest rising and falling with effort. As she allows the male lead to take her hand and guide her off the stage, her gaze falls to Art, and she fixes him a strange look. 

He knows he probably looks stupid. Art can almost feel how goofy the smile on his face is, but he can’t help it. 2 hours and 15 minutes. That’s how long he got to watch her. She came on and off of the stage but his eyes followed her the whole time. It felt like she was only on stage for 3 minutes. Time suspends while Heaven dances. Art watched her body contort, and her muscles stretch as she moved across the stage. He felt fucking privileged. Like he didn’t deserve that experience. He doesn’t know how Patrick and Tashi could pass up the opportunity to see her like this. The glow on her face as she tells a story with her form. 

Art is startled by a soft nudge to his side, turning to see Heaven’s stepfather giving him a knowing grin. The blond coughs, finally and fully shaking the trance he’d been in and giving the older man his attention. “She’s…she’s amazing.”

“Believe me, I know, my daughter is the brightest star.” Luca pats Art roughly on the arm, his strong hand a stark contrast from his kind smile. “It seems like you know that too.”

Art feels his face heat, eyes briefly darting back toward the stage. “Yeah, I do.” 

“And your friend, Patrick, does he know?”

If this was any other situation he’d cover for his best friend. Art would tell the older man that something happened. Make up some excuse, some lie as to why Patrick wasn’t here to support his girlfriend. But he didn’t have it in him. 

Why should he? Why should he talk his way out of something good? If Patrick actually knew what he had he’d be here. Tashi he can excuse, she’s recovering. But even then, Art can’t think of anything on God’s green earth right now that would have been able to keep him from watching her like this. Or even just the chance to spend time with her. 

"Heaven deserves...everything."

A few minutes pass before Heaven comes barrelling out, leaping into her stepfather’s arms like a little girl, her smile wide as she cuts their brief conversation about the other dancers Art missed while he was in his Heaven induced daze. The elder man grunts as he catches her, showering her in praise and presenting her with the Chanel gift bag before slipping into the conversation that her mother was unable to make it. 

Art enjoyed the warmth of the moment. He basks in the joy on her face, and the hum of jealousy at the fact that he’s not the one causing it is manageable, remaining at a low thrum in his chest. When she finally turns to address him, he straightens, determined not to sound like a fanboy meeting his celebrity crush. 

“Well?” Heaven cheeses up at him, clearly waiting for her ego to be stroked. She rocks on her feet, her hands clasped together behind her back. She’d loosened her hair out of the intricate style she’d performed with, but still stood before him in her final costume, looking like a princess who walked straight from a fairytale. 

“Well…I’m gonna empty my bank account to get tickets for every other night, so-”

“Then I’ll expect to see you there. I’ll put on a good show” She says softly, pushing onto her toes and wrapping her arms around his neck, hugging him tightly. Heaven brings her lips to Art’s ear. “Thank you for coming.”

“Um,” Art’s voice cracks as he feels her press against him, not knowing how to embrace her in a way that wouldn’t give away the fact that she literally made him fall in love with her all over again moments before. He settles for rubbing her back, holding her a beat longer than what’s appropriate. He holds himself back from tightening his arms around her when she does pull away, opting to present her with the flowers he’d bought her instead. “I got you these. I  saw they gave you some when you were taking your bow but…these ones are from me.”

Heaven bites her bottom lip glancing behind him and then back into his eyes. “Thank you, Art.”

“Yeah. You were beautiful, Hev.”

Luca’s eyes narrow as he looks between his stepdaughter and the young man he’d watched sitting on the edge of the fabric theater seat the entirety of the performance. He’d expected to be joined by Heaven’s boyfriend tonight. He’d heard from Tashi that she still was not feeling well and his wife made it abundantly clear that until Heaven was part of a company that she deemed professional, she would not be making the effort to attend a performance. 

So when a young man came in looking like he was about to win the lottery, eyes glued to the stage before the performance even began, stars in his eyes and hands gripping the side of the seat, he thought this was him. The older man was relieved, really. He’d love for Heaven to be his baby forever. He’d never take for granted the day that he was taking his niece to the ballet to see Coppélia. She was briefly in town and he’d taken the night off work to take her out while his sister and brother-in-law got a break. He’d gotten the nicest seats in the house to show his niece a good time. 

What Luca hadn’t expected was for a beautiful woman to tap him on the shoulder, her adorable little girl dressed like the doll in the ballet peeking out from behind her leg. The woman had all but demanded that he and his niece trade places with her and her daughter, offering to pay him after pointing out that his niece was asleep and not paying attention anyway. 

He didn’t mind giving up the seat, in exchange for the beautiful woman’s number, and the bright smile on the little girl’s face. She was missing her front two teeth and was barely taller than her mother’s knee, but he watched them. He saw the little girl stare up at the dancers with wonder, sitting with her back straight, imitating their arm movements as the ballet went on. He watched her mother smile down at her, pointing out things the little girl might miss. It wasn’t long before he fell in love with the woman and her daughter, and soon, they were a family. 

But now, the little girl who used to ask her stepdaddy to twirl and lift her like the big girls he took her to see was on stage where she belonged. And there was a boy. A man. Here, mesmerized by her. He watched the love in the boy’s eyes in real time. 

The only problem was that he wasn’t him. He wasn’t the boy who was supposed to be here, on the edge of his seat, watching his little Stellina shine. No, he was a friend. 

Maybe it wasn’t fair to be rooting for the boy in front of him when he hadn’t met the boyfriend. Maybe he owed him a chance to prove himself too. But one thing he and Beatrice had instilled in Heaven, trait that she and her Tashi share, is knowing you have to earn the things you want. Tonight is the first big night of many for Heaven. But, it was the first. She deserved support. As long as Luca was alive she would have it, but he’s not naive. He knows he won’t be enough anymore. And it all boils down to one thing. Art was here. Patrick was not. 

So, if he invited Art to dinner, it was because he’d earned a seat.

“I could have been a pro, that’s all I’m saying.” 

Utensils clang over the music and chatter of the restaurant Heaven and her dad had guided him to. Apparently, they went to it every time Mr. Whitlock visited Heaven at school. It’s an American Steakhouse and Brewery. Fancy enough that he couldn’t come in sweats, which Patrick would have hated. But not so fancy that they had to be all stiff and uncomfortable like at the restaurants his dad normally drags him to.

“Papino, please-” Heaven whines, dramatically dropping her head into her hands. 

“I’m not talking to you, I’m talking to Art.” The older man waves his hand, dismissing his daughter playfully. Leaning in conspiratorially to Art. “My daughter is closed minded, but she is not the only athlete in our family. If my football career would have taken off-”

“You see!” She points, sitting up pointing at her father. “Football” she mocks with a thick italian accent. “Ask him where he was born, Art.”

“It’s not about the birth place!”

The blond chuckles at the exchange, enjoying the banter between father and daughter. He wishes he and his dad had this. Jokes. Familiarity. Heaven softens around him. He remembers what she looked like around her mom. Tense. Nervous. Insecure. And around everyone else, it was like she held herself apart. She stays where its safe, next to Tashi, in their own world, keeping everyone else out. Just the two of them plotting their world domination together. Art often found himself feeling jealous, like he was on the outside begging to be invited in. But right now she’s open. Showing him things he;d never gotten to see from her before. “Where are you from Mr. Whitlock.”

“Luca.” The older man corrects, taking a sip of his water. “And italy-”

Art feels a foot brush his leg under the table and whips his head to look at Heaven, willing his face not to turn pink and for his dick not to get hard as her lips mouth to him ‘New York’. 

“You see this? Arthur, when you have daughters, don’t spoil them, they’ll turn into brats, like my Heaven.”

“A brat? I’m not a spoiled brat. Art, am I spoiled?” she asks, leaning against his arm, fixing her big brown eyes at him. 

Art could fucking melt.

“Don’t bat your eyelashes at him and confuse the boy, here” Luca reaches over and musses his daughter’s hair, earning a laugh and a whine that he’d pay if he messed it up. “Answer now.”

“Hev…”

“Art, no.” She pouts.

“I’m not gonna lie to your dad, you’re a princess, Hev, it’s just what you are. Pretty girls like you tend to get what they want.” He jokes, pinching her cheek. Heaven swats his hand away and crosses her arms, mumbling about them ganging up on her.

“Sorry,” A voice calls from beside the table. It’s their waitress, carrying the desserts they’d ordered. “I didn’t want to interrupt, your chocolate mousse, sir.” The waitress places Luca’s plate down in front of him and he naturally sighs as his daughter’s eyes automatically shift away from it to her glorified fruit cup. He wishes she’d let herself indulge, but he knows from experience. Heaven will not bend. Her discipline will not break. Even as she eyes Art’s strawberry cheesecake, a snack that happens to be her favorite. 

The older man doesn’t know what he’s expecting but it’s certainly not what he sees. He watches the blond young man push the plate toward Heaven, and as he suspects, she pushes it back, the glass is pushed back and forth until the boy shrugs, placing his hands in his lap, as if declaring that if she didn’t have any, he wouldn’t either. Another thing his daughter hates. Waste. 

Heaven rolls her eyes, scooping a small piece of the creamy dessert onto her spoon and taking it into her mouth, causing the boy to grin with victory. Victory that is short lived and replaced with flushed embarrassment when she grabs his chin, taking a much larger scoop and pushing it into his mouth with the same spoon. Luca can’t help but join his daughter in laughing as the boy sputters trying to swallow the hunk she fed him. But he also can’t help but notice her bringing his water to his lips, rubbing his back and thanking him for a piece of his cake. The cake that he didn’t touch again, the grimace he’s hiding clearly revealing that he doesn’t like strawberry cheesecake and that his decision may not have been a coincidence after all. 

As they close out their meal, he thinks back on what he witnessed that night. Heaven’s beautiful dancing had definitely been the highlight. But as his daughter and the boy who had stars in his eyes as he looked at her spoke about everything and nothing he had a feeling that he was witnessing something even more rare.

And this would not be the last time he saw Art Donaldson.

“He likes you.” Heaven singsongs, strolling into the doorway as Art holds it open, following closely behind her. “My dad.”

“Thank God, I was worried about that.” Art breathes, letting her lead him to her dorm room door. 

When she reaches her unit Heaven turns, leaning against the door and looking up at the blond man in front of her. “Why? Pressure’s not on you, it’s not like you’re my boyfriend.” Art just raises his eyebrows, nodding his head. “Too soon?”

“Uh, yeah,” he breathes, dropping his head slightly. “Pretty sure it’ll always be too soon.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” He forces himself to ask her the question burning in his mind, looking at the floor. “Have you…have you heard from him?”

“No. But, I’m pretty sure I’m not the girlfriend he’s worried about losing.” She shrugs.

“He’s just…if…Patrick’s a fucking idiot, alright?” Art needs her to understand it’s not her. She’s not the problem. He would do anything for her to get the only issue is that Patrick isn’t right for her. He can’t handle her looking up at him with sad eyes like those. Her gorgeous rose petal lips should only ever be spread into a smile. Leaning his forehead to hers, Art lets his eyes slip closed in defeat. “I’m sorry. I’m gonna be a really shitty friend right now, so if you really don’t want to hear it, you should go in your dorm and I’ll drive back to school and kick myself for fucking up with you again.”

“Art, you promised-”

“You wouldn’t have to wonder if you were with me. I meant what I said. I’d be at every show, every rehearsal, fucking, I’ll sit in a room and watch you twirl for fun if you want me to. I want to make you happy.”

“Art, what do you want me to do?” she whines, literally stamping her foot on the carpet, still not moving, sharing his air. 

“Let me show you how good it could be.”

“You want to sleep with me-”

“I’m in love with you.” he sighs. “I’d do anything. Let me show you.”

“You should stop saying that.” Heaven says wearily, running her hand through blond curls. “I’m starting to believe you.” 

He sighs again, leaning into her hand and scanning her features intently, waiting and watching for a sign that this is going in his favor. He just wants to be with her. Take care of her. He’d be so good at it. She just has to let him try. 

And then a miracle happens. 

Art’s brain blows a fuse as he feels Heaven’s lips against his. It feels like it’s been so long since he’s tasted her. He wills himself to take it slow, but as her lips part for him he finds himself groaning and wrapping his arms around the backs of her thighs, hoisting her up against the door. Being with Heaven feels like being an addict getting a fix of their favorite drug. It’s euphoric. A high he can chase with all his might but the only thing that got him to true ecstasy what having her. 

He’s almost scared of what making love with her would do to his psyche. 

Patrick would call him a pussy for saying it that way. But that’s the only thing that he could conceive of calling what he was about to do. Or, the only thing he could say that would be applicable and not sacreligious. 

Heaven gasps as the cool air of her room hits her as she grips Art’s shoulders to keep her balance as he carries her in. The sound of her keys hitting the floor is drowned out by her attempts at breathing steadily and what could only be described as whimpers coming from Art as he bites and sucks at her skin. She hadn’t expected him to be the type to like to leave marks. But here the usually gentle man was, manhandling her onto her champagne, silk bed set, head buried in her neck like a fucking vampire, large hands switching between shoving up her shirt and tugging down her pants.

She scrambles to pull at his shirt, squeaking out the word, “Off.” as his lips encase one of her nipples. 

He listens immediately, reaching one hand back and whipping his own shirt off before kissing a wet trail down her body, kissing her hip bone, tucking a finger under her underwear. Art pauses then, waiting for confirmation that he could continue. He looks like a wounded puppy when Heaven sits up, legs effectively closing to him. 

The somber look is immediately traded for one of shock and then pleasure when she guides him to sit in the bed, and climbs into his lap, her hand unzipping his shorts and pushing into his boxers. “Fuck, Heaven-”

“I figure, I should thank you. For showing up for me today,” she whispers into his ears, relishing in the noises he makes as one of his hands grips the blanket below them and the other buries into her hair. “and any other day since I met you. I do appreciate you, Art. You matter to me.”

Art’s desperate, lifting his hips each time her hand moves up, leaning into her as she whispers in her ear. “I…fuck it feels so good.”

“Yeah? Do I make you feel good? Is that why you wanna be with me so bad, handsome?” she hums, squeezing the tip and trying not to react to his tightened grip when she does.

“I wanna be with you because I…fucking oh fuck, I fucking love you.” he breathes, chest rising and falling, his abs flexing with effort. “Fuck, let me see your face.”

“But I wanna keep talking to you.” Heaven says, letting her lips brush the skin of his ear. “You’re attracted to me, Arthur. You want to fuck me. That’s all. S’okay.”

Art’s eyes squeeze closed and he pulls her even closer to him. “No, I love you. Even if I can’t fuck you.”

“Really?” She twists her wrist and changes the pressure in her grip.

“Unh, fuck, no I love you, but I need to fuck you.” He whines.

 Art drags his hand from the back of her neck to cup her jaw, guiding Heaven to his lips. He kisses her deeply. She can’t describe it. But she feels it in her toes. She can feel the intensity. This wasn’t what she was used to. This kiss felt like something she’d never experienced before. It felt like begging. Like he was pleading with her to understand. He needed her to get what he means, what he feels. When he says anything he means anything. When he says he loves her he means it. 

And for the first time, even in her own mind, Heaven acknowledged that she wanted him to know she felt the same way. 

So when he pulls away to give her air, she chases his lips, capturing them again and getting another taste of the same intensity he’d given her before. “I really tried, you know. To stay away from you.” 

“Don’t stay away from me, I need you.” He breathes against her lips, his own dragging along them as they refuse to take any more space from each other. Art nudges her nose with his softly, dropping his hands to her waist. “Heaven, please.”

“What do you want me to do, Art?” Heaven asks, pulling him from his pants. Her eyes locked on him. He’s blurry in her swimming  vision, but she can see him build the courage to tell her what he needs from her, taking a deep breath.

“Tell me you love me too.” he says against her lips, holding her down against him, rocking her hips to set a pace with his hands. “Tell me, baby. Please.”

“I love you.” 

“Again.”

“I fuck I love you.”

“I love you. Again.” he groans, guiding her a little faster, sliding one hand down and tugging at her underwear again. This time she pushes up onto her knees, separated by his thighs, she helps him get the fabric off of her body as his gaze follows her upward, leaning his head back. 

“Arthur.” she says sternly, cupping his cheeks with her hands, “I mean it.”

Art and Heaven share a gasp as she sinks down on him, his strong, calloused hands grip soft, muscled thighs as they share two pecks before pushing their foreheads together, both peering down to where they’re joined together, the only sounds in the room are the slow creaking of the bed and the pants passed between the pair.

Heaven had never felt so close to someone before. She’d never felt this good. All she could think about was Art. Art’s hands on her, squeezing her, pushing her hair out of her face, pressing his thumb into her cheek, encouraging her to open her eyes whenever they slip closed as she rises and falls above him. 

Art’s eyes, that drink her completely. The perfect mix of blue and brown, glossy and locked on her. He always demands her eyes. He’s made it clear he loves when she looks at him, but the way Art looks at her…it’s like he worships her. It’s like he’s worried if he blinks she’d be gone. He makes her feel the most beautiful she ever has.

He’s beautiful. It distracts Heaven to look at him, beneath her, yet somehow demonstrating his strength. Holding her up, guiding her movements with his strong arms, veins running up the muscles that hold her. All while offering her the prettiest slurred moans.

“Fuck, Heaven, you feel so good.”

“So good, squeezin’ me, you need me baby?”

“He didn’t fuck you like he loved you, no one can. Only me, gorgeous. No one can love you like I can.” 

“S’like I’m meant to be inside you.”

As Art’s thrusts grow harsher and deeper, they keep their slow pace. Heaven buries her head in his neck, letting him rock her as she cries into his skin. She feels the pressure building in her lower abdomen.

Art feels her tighten around him and suddenly he’s lucid. The squeeze pulls a cry from him before he’s turning his head to be in her ear. “You gonna cum, sweetheart?”

“Yeah” Heaven whimpers.

“Yeah? Fuck…I’m so glad, baby. Hold on okay?” He lifts her then, earning a squeal from Heaven as he rolls them so he’s above her, just barely hovering as he brackets her with his arms. Art leans down, placing his weight on her before pushing into her again, staring down at her face as she bites her lip, trying to silence her noises. “Please don’t. I fucking dream of those sounds, I wanna hear them. I earned them, I want to hear you.”

“Fuck, Art-”

“Fuck yes, baby, say my name.” He groans, dropping his head to her chest, pressing open mouthed kisses and littering hickeys along her breasts. “”Cum for me.” He pants against her damp skin.

Art has never heard anything more beautiful. He’d never felt anything fucking like it. In the few years he’s spent on this earth, he’d never experienced anything like feeling Heaven Whitlock cum around him. He almost feels sorry for the past version of himself that hadn’t been inside of her yet. If he had known…maybe it was best he didn’t know. He fell in love with her before any of this. Maybe that’s why it felt so good. Maybe it’s just Heaven. Maybe her parents knew what the fuck they were doing when they named her.

He doesn’t know how he’s supposed to go back to being a person after this. How is he supposed to want to do anything else? He feels like a fucking junkie, worried about when he’d get his next fix. He needs to treat every kiss like it could be his last. Every touch. Every moan. Every thrust. He wants to live here. With her. In her. 

It’s not even over. Art’s still fucking her right now and he’s praying to God that she won’t leave again. She can’t take this from him. She can’t take herself away from him. Her pretty face, crying out for him. Looking at him. Loving him. That’s right baby, eyes on me.

“You’re so fucking pretty, baby.” He whines, kissing her deeply as he feels her wrap her legs around him, pulling her closer. “Fuck…I’m-” Art starts to panick, squeezing his eyes shut. It’s almost over. Then she’ll go. She’ll make him go. He wants to be close. Together. He needs more. More time. Please-

“It’s okay, I…feel- I want you to cum, Art.” She presses the sweetest kiss to his nose, wiping dampness from underneath his eyes that he didn’t even realize was there. “I love you.”

It’s the most innocent thing in the world. A little peck on his nose. 

He’s never cum so hard in his life.

“I fucking love you.”

He basically fucking blacked out. She came again…with him. Art could die now, and he’d be fine.  Somewhere in his mind he feels like what they just did altered his life. He knew he wanted Heaven. He knew that when he first saw her. He knew he loved Heaven, he found that out when he saw her dance. But this intensity he feels…he’d do anything for her. Anything she asked. Anything to make her smile. If she’d just stay. 

And despite knowing her for only a couple of months, almost a year now, he knows exactly what she’s about to do. They’ve played this game before.

“So, um,” She clears her throat, rolling out from under him as he releases her, laying on his side and staring as she slips off of the silk sheets and reaches in her drawer, pulling out a white nightgown. Heaven wraps her arms around herself. Closing off. Covering up. “I’m…I’m on birth control so you don’t have to worry that you…”

“Came inside of you?” Art asks, a soft smile on his lips. 

Heaven straightens, eyes narrowing. “Yes. That. And now I have to go pee.” She turns to leave for the bathroom, only to feel a large hand encase her wrist, tugging her back toward the bed.

“Are you really going to pee?”

“Yes, where else would I go?”

He tilts his head, still holding onto her, running his thumb over the back of her hand before bringing it to his lips and kissing it. “You have a tendency to run-”

“I don’t run.”

“Hev, baby, you run. When we get close. We were really close just now.”

Heaven sighs, rolling her eyes before climbing back onto the bed, swinging her leg over Art to straddle him again, this time pulling the fabric of the blanket between them. She intertwines their hands that are not already clasped together, and Art lifts his knees for her to rest her back on. “You scare me.”

The blond man stares up at his lover with a confused look. As she sits perched prettily on his lap he can see she’s being earnest. The anxiousness on her face makes his heart hurt. All he could think is that he’d rather hurt himself than hurt her. She has nothing to fear. But he lies quietly. Letting her playfully pin his hands down with her own, leaning down to his face. 

“I don’t get what you’re doing here.”

His brows furrow. “I’m earning you. Like you said.” 

“That game is way over-” Heaven giggles, rolling her eyes. “What happens if you get me and you figure out I’m not worth it.

“That’s not possible. We both know that, Hev. You’re everything. You’re perfect.”

She shakes her head at that, nuzzling his nose again. “Fucking tennis players, man. Toxic ass bunch.” Heaven huffs at herself, shaking her head. “Just can’t leave ‘em alone. You know, Tashi gave me her blessing to hook up with you? Told me to get you out of my system already.”

Oh. 

“Oh.” He steels himself, letting her weight above him be his anchor. He commits this feeling to memory. Just in case she’s about to say this was a fluke. In case this really didn’t mean what it meant to him to her. “Did it work?”

“I just told you I loved you and let you nut in me Arthur.” Heaven deadpans. 

“I know it was awesome.” He smiles goofily, lifting their joint hands and nudging her dimple with his knuckle. 

“Oh, was it awesome?” she mocks, leaning down and biting his cheek lightly, giggling as he finally stops indulging her and rolls her to lay in front of him, wrapping his arm around her waist. “I actually do need to pee.”

“You sure?” he mumbles against her cheek.

“U-T-I.” she hums, patting his head before pushing up, his arms allow her to move this time. Heaven smiles flirtily at him before slipping out of the door. 

Art lies back on her bed and smiles to himself. She’s right. She did say she loved him. He’s never felt more alive than he does right now. Everything about this felt so right and real. Things were how they should be. Art with Heaven. Heaven with Art. 

It was like he was high. Nothing could take it away from him. This moment was perfect. They were in love, and happy and nothing would pierce this bubble they’d created.

Except that damn buzzing.

Art tells himself he thought it could be his or her phone.

They’re both discarded on the floor. It could be anything. An emergency. With her parents. His. Tashi. Anything. 

He tells himself he didn’t even consider it could be Patrick texting her. And when his jaw clenches, and he runs his hands through his own hair hastily before opening the texts, he tells himself that he saw his best friend’s name and wanted to make sure he was okay. And that he showed great restraint when he chose to delete the message he sent Heaven, claiming to miss her and expressing the need to talk. He could’ve thrown the fucking thing against the wall. He could’ve sent the motherfucker a picture of himself in her bed. Instead he protected her feelings.

And sure. He felt guilty. There was definitely a weight on his chest as he placed the phone perfectly back on the floor where it was and climbed back on the bed. 

But Art can admit, it definitely got lighter when Heaven came tiptoeing back into the room, smiling at him, for him, lifting his arm so she could lay with her back to his chest. Twisting her body to kiss him and promising to talk to Tashi. 

And it for fucking sure went away when she bid him goodnight. “Goodnight…I love you.”

It’s time he and Patrick take some space anyway.

“I love you too.”

[loves0phelia]

Hi! can i request miguel x model reader. She’s apart of the spider verse but does modeling on the side nd she’s really famous :-)

Canon

Summery: Being a model and a spider woman makes your life really complicated.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: violence/fighting, angst, grammar mistakes

A/N: This is probably not what you had in mind at all but I hope you enjoy it anyway xxx

You always liked modelling. At the age of 3, you dressed up as Cinderella and walked in your aunt’s May living room, moving your small hips side to side and flipping your hair. At the age of 5 Aunt May brought you shopping and every time you tried on a new piece of clothing you came out of the dressing room to show it off.

At the age of 7 your parents learned about your new passion and being the greedy people that they were, they started hiring agent after agent to control your every move. 

Your aunt tried to talk them out of it but they never stopped forcing you into gigs that you shouldn't have been in. You thought they only wanted to make your dream of becoming a model come to life but they only wanted the money. They pushed you around every stage and you became successful but you never knew until you grew up and picked up a journal your parents were hiding in their offices and saw yourself on the front cover.

You didn't know how to react when they died during a plane crash on their way to Japan to make a deal with your modelling career. You thought being thrown around by your parents was a normal childhood, you were lost. 

When you got bitten by the spider that turned you into the one and only Spider-Woman of your universe. Your life took a drastic turn.

 The freedom of being a spider person brought you so much happiness. Aunt May had taken you in after the passing of your parents and now that she was in charge of you, she made sure you would only model if you desired to. Nobody would force you. 

Since it was still your dream and you didn't experience the real pleasure of your passion you decided to start from scratch. You forgot your old professional life, the life your parents forced on you and started fresh. You got yourself a new agent that became your best friend. You told her absolutely everything. And you learned to be confident.  

You saved the city at night and lived your dream during the day. 

What was supposed to be a normal night of patrolling and chilling at the top of a building turned into a multiverse mess? 

Your Hair was flowing in the air as you hung upside down eating a peanut butter and jam sandwich when your spidey sense started tingling. Your head snapped towards Times Square and you saw lightning bolts strike multiple times. Some were electric blue and some were neon yellow.

You ditched your lunch and quickly pulled down your mask. With your purple-ish webs, you swung to the scene. 

The guy had his hood up but you could see his glowing skin through the vest he was wearing. It was like his veins were filled with electric fuel. He was absorbing every possible electricity making everyone scream in fear. New York was usually intensely bright and now every light was fading. Your senses were tingling every time a civilian was getting close to being struck with a lightning bolt so while trying to understand what he was, you saved every passing stranger.

“Hey, you might want to stop doing that!” You shouted over the afraid people after putting down a small child into his mom's arms and tried to reason with the electric thief.

“I don't know what is happening. Everything feels so different here.” The guy growled and continued absorbing with his hands when he started yelling in pain. His body glitched like television static. He stopped and breathed heavily as if this pain had angered him.

“What the fuck” You whispered and curiously your hand lifted to touch a metal pole that was vibrating with electricity.

A bright orange web caught your wrist and pulled you away. you looked at where it came from and saw a portal. After a couple of seconds, the web shone brighter and made a pulsing sound and a Spiderman came through it. his web was still attached to you when he spoke.

“Do not touch that, you could get electrified” He said calmly, almost too calmly.

“Who the hell are you? How did you come through that? Do you know that guy?” you rambled out your question and he groaned under his mask. 

“basta con las preguntas! (enough with the questions)” After having an A + in Spanish during high school you were confident you understood what he had said.

You rolled your eyes underneath your mask and went into action. You disconnected every powerline above the buildings and found an underground entrance to stop any power under there to try and make him weaker. You came back up and you saw that the other spider man was about to get struck and he did not react a little bit. Your senses screamed at you.

You caught his waist with your webs and tugged him to you making his back contact with your chest. He was so tall you couldn't even see when the bolt that was previously about to hit him, exploded on the ground.

“Do you not have spider sense or what? You could've died and I don't even know you!” you screamed and let him free of your webs. With a frustrated sigh, he called out to a girl named Lyla. Your brows Furrowed, now who the hell is Lyla? you thought.

“What in the...” you whispered when a small lady appeared by his shoulder.

“Call for back up” 

“magic words?” she teased and leaned closer to his face. You just stood there completely confused.

“Now. Lyla” Even with his mask on, you could see his grumpy expression.

“You got to say them” She smiled brightly, unfazed by his grumpiness.

“call for backup, please” 

“Yeah, I already did 5 minutes ago” She laughed at him and disappeared into thin air.

“UGH, you always do this!” as if on cue the same orange portal from earlier opened 5 meters away from you and a pregnant spider woman riding a motorcycle came through it.

“And I thought I was special,” you said before you three turned back to face the villain. 

“It's time you go back to earth 199999,” The blue spider said, once again your brows furrowed in confusion. What the hell is Earth 199999?

Knowing it wasn't time for questions, your webs came out of your wrist attached to the arms of the electric creature trying to restrain him from using his powers. but he was too powerful and it was useless. His arms ripped apart your webs making his electric blue fuel travel to your wrist, frying your left web shooter. Even though you had less power now, you noticed how the lightning reached for something in the air. In almost a second a helicopter came crashing down at the speed of light. 

with only one wrist to shoot your webs, you managed to catch it, all on your own making a bouncy platform of web between the buildings. You rushed to the door and pulled it open.

The civilians thanked you for saving their lives and quickly ran away from the scene.

“He's unbeatable!” the pregnant woman who tried wrapping her webs around him screamed.

slowly you looked around trying to find a solution. you blocked out every noise and your eyes landed on a fire hydrant.

“Move away!” you screamed at the two spiders and they looked at you like you were crazy, but seeing you had a plan, they dropped what they were doing.

with your force, you pulled away from the ground the red fire hydrant and water splashed everywhere. Left, right, up, down, and on the villain. He screamed and glitched again as the water came in contact with his skin. He yelled in pain as if water burned like acid.

The flashing lights of Times Square stopped and everything became bright again as he fell to the ground. Smoke was coming out of his body and his skin stopped glowing and went back to its original color.

“He's not defeated, we have to send him back to his original earth so his Spiderman can deal with it,” The man said before tapping down on the watch tied to his wrist. A portal opened in front of us and the villain was pushed back into his universe.

“It can't be that easy, right?” you were standing there as if nothing had ever happened it seemed impossible.

“It is that easy. He was in the wrong universe and by sending him back, his very own Peter Parker would take care of him” Both of them started walking away and you stayed behind so unbelievably confused. Peter Parker? That kid you knew in high school? Peter Parker? 

“what about her?” you didn't hear when the woman spoke to Miguel.

“she found the solution and she did all that with one web shooter” she added to her previous sentence.

“She's careless, she was almost electrified. If I wasn't there this earth would have fallen to the ground” he grumbled.

“Remember the time when you saved Gwen and you were almost attacked by that thing made out of paper because you weren't paying attention?” she reminded him.

“We all make mistakes, Miguel. We need someone like her in the team.” without saying one more word she walked through the portal while he stayed behind. He turned around to look at you. Your arms were at your side and you watched the damage the villain left in your city.

“y/n,” he said gently and you jumped before turning.

“how- how do you know my name” You touched your face to make sure your mask was still on. It was.

“I am Miguel O'Hara. Leader of Spider Society and dedicated to the security of the multiverse” You looked up at him as he spoke.

“I know all spidermen and spider women of every universe, including you. This watch will allow you to travel between the earth's freely” he extended his arm towards you with the orange band in his hand.

you took it from his hand and put it on your wrist. it glowed blue then yellow and red as it was adapting to you.

—--

A few months later you settled in Earth 2099 at the Spider Society, you learned you were far from being the only Spider-woman. You managed to continue working in your universe but it was really difficult.  And you were also informed about canon events. 

“Miguel?” you knock and enter his lab. His big platform was up in the air as he worked on whatever he needed to work on.

“I'm just letting you know I'm going back to my universe for a few days. My agent told me I have an important gig with Vogue” You smiled as you yelled up. Vogue was always your biggest company deal.

his platform began getting down. “Are you sure modelling is a good idea? Now that your spider woman, one of your fans could discover your identity” he did not look at you once which was odd for Miguel. Usually, he had no problem talking to you. Maybe he was just grumpy today.

“It will be fine. I had no problem before” 

“Are you sure you can trust everyone who knows about your identity?” he asked, now you were confused.

“Of course, only my aunt May and my best friend know about me” he shook his head disapprovingly but let you go back home anyway. the entire time while getting photographed for the cover, you wondered why he was asking such questions. You continued your day full of autographs and interviews and you had a lot of fun.

“I'm home Aunt May” You entered your house and heard nothing but the TV playing.

“May?” you asked louder and made your way to the living room. 

You saw her sitting there emotionless and bells tingled in your head. You knew something bad happened. Your eyes shifted from your aunt to the TV she was so concentrated on and saw yourself beside a picture of you as spider woman. You grabbed the remote and lifted the volume.

“An anonymous source just confirmed to us, that the well-known model Y/n Y/l/n is the vigilante that has been roaming our street. She is the one who has killed various civilians instead of saving them! She is the killer who has been terrorizing our lives!” on cue a loud knock came to the door.

“Police!” your heart pounded in your ears and your aunt stood up. Her hands came up to your face and she held your cheeks gently. Tears were streaming down her face.

“You have to go. Leave, and don't come back. They can't find you” she said in a gentle voice and the police officers were beginning to try forcing the door open.

your feet were frozen in place but she grabbed your spider suit that was sitting on the couch and pushed it in your hands.

“Go. I love you Y/n” She kissed your forehead and as a tear left your eye you clicked your watch to open a portal and disappeared inside of it. You were sobbing and you fell to your knees. Who could have betrayed you? Why would they call you a killer? you've never killed anyone all you did was protect your city, your universe. 

a hand came to your shoulder and you turned to see Miguel standing over you. He looked at you with pity.

“You knew that was gonna happen didn't you?” you let out another sob before he nodded confirming your assumption.

“Why didn't you tell me?! Everyone thinks I'm a killer, aunt may is in trouble. I could've stopped it” You were angry at him.

“I tried mi vida, I tried to warn you by asking if you were sure but it didn't work and I couldn't tell you directly. it would have disrupted the canon and, It's my job to assure the canon stays intact.” he sinks to his knees next to you and holds you against his chest.

his lips connected with your forehead in a comforting manner.

“What am I going to do? I have nowhere to go, no more dreams, no more job. I knew a secret identity and fame wasn't a good match but I didn't think it would go that way. My life is gone ” You wiped your face but it was useless since your salty tears were still coming out of your eyes.

“I'm so sorry” he whispered in your hair. Even though it had angered you that he didn't warn you clearly about what was going to happen, you knew he had no choice.

Just like you have no choice but to stay here on Earth 2099 with him. 

At the same time in every other universe you existed in, you were choosing Spiderman over modelling out of love.

Even though being a model was everything you ever wanted. You would have ended up choosing Spiderman even in this one. 

[ahhhhhhh-e-i-e-i-o]

this is ur free pass to talk about ur hyperfixation. i have no idea wtf it is but i want to hear

You dont understand how happy that just made me, I literally giggled and jumped up and down like a little girl.

Ok so it's this show called SKAM, or Shame in norwegian (and I'm deep in it rn). So it's basically this Norwegian teen drama but there's a ton of remakes around the world (so far I've seen Skam France and WTFock which is Skam Belgium, but there's a ton, like Skam Italy and Skam Austin). But the cool thing is when it aired it was in real time and random, so basically if there was a clip of an episode that took place at 5:30 on Monday, it would air at 5:30 on Monday and then at the end of the week they would release the whole episode. But ALSO, they would randomly release texts between the characters AND all the characters had Instagram accounts run by the show that would post randomly. And so basically each season follows a different character and the OG only had 4 seasons but some of the remakes have many many more, and the remakes have to follow the same characters and general storyline of the first four seasons, but then they can do whatever they want and it's really cool.

So basically everyone's favorite season (and the reason I watched) is season 3 because it's about these guys Even and Isak who fall in love (and we love queer romance) and it's actually soooo good. Basically Isak is gay but super in denial and has all this internalized homophobia that goes out the fucking window when he meets Even, a raging pansexual with enough charisma to make a lesbian fall for him istg (ok maybe not a lesbian but at least a straight man I'm sure). But, mild spoiler, Even has bipolar disorder and has this intense manic episode around Isak which fucks everything up and his ex is like super toxic, but then they get over it and have some of the cutest scenes I've ever seen in TV history.

I've really onyl watched season 3 of Skam France and WTFock, and just clips from the other ones, but from what I can tell, Skam France is very similar to the OG, and WTFock is a little darker (like at one point they get beat up on the street by homophobes). But I really like the remakes because the characters aren't exactly the same even though the story is. So like Robbe (Belgian Isak) is super adorable and little tiny baby and like Isak is too but not in the same way. And like Eliott (French Even) has more of a temper and he's a little more "cool guy" and yeah idk.

I also love love love season 5 of Skam France because it's about Arthur who is the love of my life (dear lord he's so hot) and he goes deaf and I think it's a really great story. I also really like television that focuses on a sense (or lack thereof) especailly hearing because you can do some really cool stuff with it. I think the show did some things about it really excellently and some things I would've done differently just to evoke a different or stronger emotional reaction but I still think it was really cool.

Idk I just love it sm it gives me so much dopamine and just like. joy. ahhhhh thanks for letting me rant even if you don't read it I love talking about Skam and my friends are probably so happy I'm talking about it here and not to them anymore haha.

[tulipsforyourlips]

✧˖°. i found you ✧˖°. (6)

|| the sandman x dead boy detectives ||

SUMMARY: You run the dead boys detective agency along with your two best friends. And somehow two ghosts and a living girl make it work. Until you dream one night, of dream himself.

PAIRING: dream of the endless x fem!reader

WC: 4K

WARNINGS: slight angst

A/N: okay brace yourselves ladies it's a long chapter. and slow paced too but i genuinely loved writing this chapter and showing intimate conversations between dream and her. its a slow burn after all the chemistry has to be right.

PART 6 ✧˖°.

"Morning lads," you greeted the pair sorting through the daily mail.

"Mornin- woah what happened?" Charles' eyes motioned to your hand.

What? How were your injuries from your dreams transferring into real life? Well, technically that happened outside your dream. Whatever, you had no energy to mull over the technicalities of the realm differences, that was better left to the Endless.

"Eh nothing. Just slightly cut my hand open on the bed railing."

"How did that even- you know what nevermind."

"How's Jesse doing?" You changed the subject.

The boys had been monitoring her full night.

"The demon did peek through but for like half a second. Too brief for us to use our incantations and extract him out," Charles answered. "Poor kid. Must be suffering."

You gulped down some water and nodded.

"So? I was in-"

"Hell for seventy years." Charles and you finished his sentence.

"Oi turn up the volume a bit," you said as the television screen displayed some news in the background.

"As you can see around us ladies and gentlemen, the sleepy sickness has indeed made a comeback. We have Shiara's parents with us right now who has been diagnosed with the same, just one victim out of the thousands being affected," the lady reported from a hospital.

Shit shit shit. This was bad.

"Will the number soon soar to millions like it did around a century back?" The reporter continued.

You had obviously read about it. And Morpheus himself had told you how his imprisonment had befallen this plague on the waking world.

"That's..intense," Edwin said.

You never heard Charles' reply because your brain was busy trying to comprehend what you had just heard. You needed to see Dream. In response to your plea, Matthew pecked against the window.

"I will be right back," you told the guys. "Need some fresh air." You grabbed your coat and hurried out.

Dream was waiting for you in the alley behind the building.

"The sleepy sickness is back," you said as you approached him.

"I know."

"But-I-," you stuttered, "I don't understand. I thought things were supposed to move in the healing direction after last night. Atleast not worsen."

"You are coming to the Dreaming with me."

"Right now?"

In answer, Morpheus fetched his sand pouch from his cloak. You knew he could easily transport you through his cloak disappearing trick. But he seemed determined to avoid any direct contact between you two. Except when he had bandaged your hand. Ugh not the time to be a hopeless romantic. Sand enveloped you in a tornado and took you to the Dreaming. Your heart shuddered when you took in the scene awaiting you. Ruins littered the ground everywhere which in turn bore fresh cracks. You revolved your head around, assessing the damage. You took a step back, bad idea. Your feet connected with nothing and you fell, would have if not for the sturdy arm wrapped around you. Something in your guts uncoiled, partially from the apparent death, and partially from the proximity of him. This close you could see the crystal blue of his sapphires for eyes. Loose rocks fell into the crevice, showing you your alternate fate. He uprighted you on secure ground before withdrawing his hand from your waist. That was the third time he had contacted you, willingly or not. Were you keeping track? For fuck's sake you almost fell to your death and that's the part you want to fixate upon?

Shoving your flustered state deep down, you asked, "How did this happen?"

"Honestly, I dont know," Dream spoke, "What I know is we need to take another approach, a more direct and dangerous one. It is our only shot at saving humanity." He looked down at you, his eyes imploring you to trust him and validate his decision.

Had he so little faith in you? "When do we start?"

"Tonight."

You were flopped on the couch alongside Jesse watching some lame ass family movie. The boys were on some haunted house case according to the note scribbled in Charles' ugly handwriting. On the screen, a daughter hugged her mom and you tasted a palette of emotions- jealousy for being denied what others had for granted, lonely for having no one to call your own, frustration for not remembering anything. Even though you had accepted the erasure of your past, you couldn't help but grieve who you were. Who were you? Someone who mattered so little that her family and friends didn't even bother looking for her? Didn't deem her worthy of putting themselves through the trouble.

The door busted open and Charles stormed through.

"Where's Edwin?"

"Fuck knows." Was all he said before shutting himself in his room.

Okay something was seriously wrong. The door creaked on its hinges as you opened it.

"Charles?"

He was sat on his bed, whimpering softly.

"Hey? What happened?" You asked in a whisper and sat down beside him.

He shook his head. You gave him time to gather his thoughts. "He just doesn't understand."

"Edwin?"

Charles sniffed, wiping his tears away. He took a deep breath and started, "There was this family. The husband murdered the wife and children."

You inhaled a bountiful. You were aware of his traumatizing past starring his abusive dad. That fucker. The first time he had told you about him, a rage you had never been familiar with before had tightened around your veins. If that sick brute hadn't already had departed the waking world, you would have hunted him down and done that.

"I am so sorry." You intertwined your fingers in his.

"I tried to intervene but apparently had some strong emotional response to it and got sucked into the situation itself. I am aces now-"

"Clearly."

He continued on, "but that didn't stop Edwin from yelling at me for getting involved in the first place." He sucked a breath. "I couldn't help it Hazel, I just couldn't. When I saw his ghost murder-" he choked on his words. New tears escaped his eyes and burned at the back of yours.

You cupped his face in your hands and swiped your thumbs across his cheekbones, dampening his tears. "Look at me Charles." 

He reluctantly met your gaze. "I am so sorry you had to go through that. I can't even begin to grasp what that might have felt like. That's simply fucked up. But you have to know, if there is one person who understands you, it is Edwin. He cares for you more than any other person or ghost on this Earth. The only reason he yelled at you was because he was scared Charles." You didn't release your hold on his face. "Of losing you."

Charles' eyes softened.

"He loves you. We both do."

"I know." A hint of a smile graced his lips.

You kept tossing and turning in your bed. Charles' tearstained face kept flashing in your mind. You had found Edwin at the bottom of the stairs, equally devastated at his outlash. He had explained to you what you already knew, that he was worried for Charles, of losing him. Oh these boys were going to be the death of you,  provided you survived long enough.

"You are late," Dream declared when you appeared in his realm.

"Sorry, trouble at home."

"Nothing serious," you added to erase the crease in his brows.

"I want to show you something."

"Lead the way your Highness!"

You followed him to Holy shit. You'd thought you'd toured through every phenomenon in the Dreaming, been fascinated by every miracle it had to offer. You were proved wrong as you titled your head backwards to witness the dazzling fabric of sky warping around you. When you propelled it downwards the same enchanting sight glimmered. The water was coated in the sheen of the starry night. An admiration blossomed deep in your core for the Endless standing at your side, the creator of the spectacles you had witnessed in the realm, the cause behind all your fascination. These docks just being one example, perhaps your favourite yet. After your very own dream of course.

"And this, mortal, is where the magic happens."

He extended his arms and the sea waters responded to their master's call. It roared to life from its dormant state and danced to the tunes of the Endless' hands. Spiral of waves loomed from the sea, stray droplets settling on your skin as you watched the Dream lord at work. Globes of water bounced on the ocean's surface. An assortment of objects and beings went about in their respective bubbles. In one such bubble, through its foggy exterior you recognised a dream you had gotten to trust mere days ago. And then it dawned on you, you were watching people's dreams. You were staring at the collective unconscious of the living world. There was no horizon visible as far as sight took you, the sea and the sky effortlessly blended into one entity. You were in infinity itself. Where you stood was sacred ground. And Morpheus had brought you here, to a special rendition of his soul. He trusted you. No, he had no other option but to, with the waking world now in turmoil too. Unknown to your captivated self, Dream was taking in each and every shift in your expression.

He came up just beside you. "Dip your hand in it."

You peered through the mist swathing the globules of dreams floating in front of you. Seeing your apprehension, he went first. His skin immersed the film and once he was halfway through, he rotated his head back. An invitation.

"You will be fine," he said.

"You promise?"

A thousand emotions collided in his eyes all in a fraction of a second. "I promise." And he disappeared into the globule. You followed suit and landed on your butts on solid ground. The Endless at your side who was standing on both his feet having failed to make a clown of himself unlike you, paid no heed to your graceful landing. You were on your feet in a quick motion. Butterflies fluttered their wings around you and you extended your arms for them to rest upon. A giggle left you as one plopped itself on your nose.

"What is this place?" You couldn't keep the wonder out of your voice.

"This is Fiddler's green. One of my proudest creations, I confess."

"I don't blame you." Your eyes raked past the waterfall and the pure greenery of the place.

A boy, just a child, hopped a few feet away from you.

"Why are we here?" You asked finally.

"To try our new approach."

"Dream you really have to start being elaborate."

"We need him to wake up. He has been here for a while."

"Wouldn't really hold it against him. Have you looked at this place?"

Dream looked at you. Of course he had. What kind of stupid rhetorical question was that to ask the person who had made the effing place.

"I mean it's beautiful."

He brushed past your compliment and said, "Hazel he has the sleepy sickness."

"Oh. But how am I supposed to get him to wake up?"

Nightmares weren't the only ones running wild. Dreams even as pleasant as the one you were currently in, were drifting from their original purpose to serve humankind. They used their beauty and kindness as an added advantage to lure humans into staying in a fragment of their mind forever. You'd known humans' resolve was fickle, being one of them. And provided with an opportunity to escape, no one would ever turn it down. Even the strongest wills would shatter with the passage of time. And that was why you listened intently to what Morpheus had to say.

"Invoke trust in the Fiddler's green as you did with others. Without hope, their sense of their purpose is growing corrupt. They are feeding on humanity's innate desire to run away from reality. Your trust has to fill in the void left by the absence of hope."

"What if I can't?"

"You don't have a choice."

"Dream but I- what if I am not the person for this? This was Hope's job. It was never meant to be mine."

"Will you tell his parents that they can stop visiting his bed every second of the day, quell their prayers, and say goodbye to their son because you were afraid to try?"

Brutal. But the impact was necessary. "No."

"Then the fate of the world is in your hands mortal."

No pressure then.

"Oi where are you going?" You asked Dream's retreating figure.

"This is your fight Hazel. I will see you when he wakes up."

"If you think you can just leave me here- " He definitely thought so because you were standing alone on the grassy landscape, except the jovial boy chasing butterflies.

You looked at him, airy giggles erupted from his throat. You sat down, feeling the grass beneath your palms. And closed your eyes until the beating of your heart was all you were aware of.

The dream collapsed as back in the waking world, the boy began to stir, accompanied by exuberant cries of his parents. You found yourself back on the docks, completely drenched. Beads of water dripped down from the hair sticking to your face.

"You look pathetic."

You swirled around to face the Endless who had spoken those words.

"A thankyou, you did remarkably well. Yoo hoo you are saving the world and I am indebted to you. And I apologise from the bottom of my heart which I am not even sure if I possess one, for abandoning you back there, would be nice but you know whatever," you rambled. "Wouldn't want to disrupt this whole emo vibe you have going on," you vaguely gestured to his hair and robes.

Your sour mood immediately dissolved as a smile graced his lips, his perfect cherry lips, you didn't deny it this time. An actual smile, fleeting but it was there. As real as the wind blowing through his hair, bestowing an air of ethereality upon him. A god, an Endless, who had just smiled at you.

"It's time for you to wake up mortal. The sun has already risen in your land. We have a lengthy path to walk, Fiddler's green was just one on it."

"Has anyone ever told you that you're one massive buzzkill?"

You didn't think so with the authority he owned and his general 'you dare say anything to me?' demeanour but the reminiscent twinkle in his eye made you doubt otherwise.

"Goodnight Hazel."

You were lying in your bed since you had woken up, which was seconds or minutes ago, brooding over stuff, enjoying the quiet laziness before one of the guys would barge into your room and drag you out of bed. They were late today. The faint ticking of the clock was the only sound in the room when a sudden scream interrupted the monotonous ticking followed by a loud thud. You dashed through your room to the living room where an unconscious Jesse was slumped on the carpet. Charles and Edwin were both lying on the floor next to a book on incantation and Charles' pandora's box, as you liked to call his bag of tricks.

"Oh you are alive," Charles addresses you.

"What the fuck happened?"

"The demon happened," Edwin exhaled in a breath.

"Don't worry we had it contained, like forever." Charles jiggled an opaque jar in his hands. "No thanks to you," he quipped.

"I-" You were dumbfounded. "You could have woken me up."

"Oh we tried mate, but you were sleeping 'like a log' won't do it justice. We thought you were dead for a moment."

"Or worse, that you had the sleepy sickness. But before we could assess that for certain, Charles had to pee and then Jesse got possessed so we kind of had our hands full."

It was because I was in someone else's dream you gits. But it isn't like you could explain that to them. And you did have a history of sleeping like someone who had just been introduced to the concept, so you let it pass.

"But we are obviously super relieved to see you fit and aces."

"I can see that. Charles you chose pee over me!" You cried.

"Mate it was nothing personal. It was really urgent."

Okay that was the last straw. Your hands were around his neck in a second, your knees pinning him down as he tried to wiggle free from your grasp.

"Careful with the jar, you two." Edwin said flatly, unconcerned if you would strangle the ghost.

What would happen if you did? Could ghosts die again? A part of you wanted to find out badly, but a sympathetic loser  part of you took pity on his reddening face and let go. You fell down on the space next to him, both of you heaving air into your lungs.

"I hate you," Charles huffed, his earring still dangling from the aftermath of your force.

You patted his shoulder. "Don't fret it son. I hate you more."

You were headed back to the agency with arms full from your grocery trip. A yapping Charles trailed on in front of you. Jesse had moved out, to your ghost friend's dismal and ranting about it was his way of dealing with it, unfortunately.

"And she said Edwin-that Edwin had a better fashion sense than me! Can you believe it?"

"I can."

He stopped and you took the lead. "What?" He blinked.

"Come on Charles you can't be serious. His taste is impeccable. I would have stolen his wardrobe a long time ago if he wasn't a ghost."

Passers by gave you judgmental glances, but you were used to it.

He caught up to you. "Hazel, this." He gestured to his baggy jacket. "And this." He flicked his earring.

"Yes even after this and this."

"I can't believe girls sometimes, scratch that, all the times." He fastened his pace, muttering to himself.

You brought your wrist to your hand to see the time when you got knocked off balance as someone bumped against you. Your groceries spilled out of the paper bag onto the road.

"Oh I am so sorry," a stranger's voice apologised.

You both were on your knees, gathering your escaped items.

"No it's okay my fault. I wasn't lookin-" You looked up and golden eyes met you. Wow. That was one rare iris.

"Oh shush now darling. Mistakes happen," they cooed.

You both scrambled to your feet as they handed you your bag. "Thankyou."

"You're welcome Hazel."

"How do you know my name?"

"Oh I overheard you and the boy talking," they said with an unnerving smile.

They could see him? Well quite a many people could, guaranteed that they'd had a similar bump in with death, not the Endless. You watched Charles distant profile walk on far ahead still seemingly mumbling to himself. You turned your head back to ask them if they had been in a near death incident, but they were already gone. Weird.

"Haz are you coming?" Charles shouted, realising you weren't with him.

You forsake the encounter with the golden eyed person and made your way towards your impatient friend.

Cool water lapped around your ankles where you had dipped your feet in them. The past week you'd fallen into a routine, a tedious and rewarding one, as you helped more and more people get rid of their eternal sleep. You had learned to manoeuvre the waters on your own, invading people's dreams while Dream devoted his time in mending his realm. Some days he'd join you after your daily targets and you'd both sit together, relishing each other's company. Today was one such day.

"When do we begin with the nightmares?" You had only focused on the sweet dreams till yet. Dream was insistent on it, forbidding you from trespassing through any others.

"Not yet," he said.

"Don't you ever get tired?" You asked after some time.

"Of what Hazel?"

"Of being immortal."

He raised his eyebrows at you, "Would you?"

"Fuck no!" You bit your lip. "Sorry. I mean knowing your time is always running out, does generate a new appreciation for life. But that life seems to be gone in a blink of an eye. Too brief, to leave a mark, to have your existence mean something. Time becomes the most precious and most despised instrument at play," you spoke. "But being immortal, it's-it's something else. Imagine the wonders you could witness, could be a part of. An eternity of just living, carrying the past of the world with you into the future. I like having a particular destination to swim to, but I would rather be lost in the infinite ocean, you know?"

Dream listened to your words intently. "I have a friend back in the waking world. Hob Gadling."

"I didn't strike you as that."

"As what?"

"As someone having friends. But go on."

"We met in the fourteenth century. Death and I visited this pub together and there he was, proclaiming humans could cheat death."

"What did you do?"

"Death granted him his wish."

"What?" What?  "So does that mean he is still alive?"

"Yes. In fact we meet up every century."

"Hold up hold up. The devil meeting with an immortal man in the pub, that has nothing to do with this right?"

Dream's lips twitched imperceptibly.

"Will you ever cease surprising me?"

Quiet ensued you both.

"So this Hob Gadling, does he enjoy his immortality?"

"To my initial surprise, yes. I had thought after a hundred years, he would surely be begging me to take the curse back but he seemed to consider it a boon. Even after centuries had gone by, his zest to live never died, hasn't died. He reminds me of you. Or, you remind me of him."

"Oh careful Dream lord, are you implying I am your friend?" You nudged his shoulder lightly.

"Now let's not get too ahead of ourselves."

You let out a half suppressed laugh.

"Perhaps," he said.

You titled your head towards him, "Eh. I don't think I'm ready to promote you from acquaintance just yet."

"Is that how it is?"

"Absolutely."

A shooting star dived through the sky, cutting a blaze of fire through it.

"What do you wish for Dream?"

He glanced at you.

"Come on. It appears every day without fail, in the abode of your creations. You made it. What do you wish for everyday?"

He was silent.

"And here I thought we were friends."

"I created it in memory of Hope."

That was the first time he had willingly mentioned her. 

"Do you miss her?"

He took his time to answer. "Sometimes."

You drew your feet out of the water and hugged your knees. "Well. Tragedy does birth-"

"The most beautiful things."

You looked at him to find his eyes already on you, a quiet yearning displayed in them.

"Ok mind reader," you scoffed.

"I do not posses those powers, unfortunately."

"Oh a creep then?"

When you looked at him again, his lips imitated the crescent moon in the sky on his perfect face. It wasn't like any of the fleeting twitches, no matter how treasured, he had given you before. The smile reached his cheeks. His teeth glittered under the moonlight, his skin washed in it. A weak crinkle formed at the end of his eyes. Your heart lurched in its rib cage, wanting to join another. No. You won't fall for him. You won't fall for an Endless. You won't fall for the pompous goth guy. You won't fall for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You weren't falling for him. You were not falling for him. Shit. You were falling for him. 

SERIES MASTERLIST

[wen-kexing-apologist]

Favorite Kiss Game

I was tagged by @lurkingshan and @he-is-lightning-in-a-bottle

Grrr, this is SO hard.

I know what will happen if I put a certain shows kiss on my favorites list, so I'm going to cut out a couple of my absolute favorites and focus on the following:

Propoganda

Mew, Neo, and Shin- 3 Will Be Free, Ep 6

gif by @sunsongsa

I enjoyed this kiss as a tension breaker for a few reasons: 1) because it marked the actual confirmation of a polyamorus relationship in a GMMTV show, 2) because we have spent so much time in this show with these characters running for their lives and getting traumatized every other day and it is a lovely moment of broken tension from the fear they have been feeling, 3) because it breaks the tension Shin carries around his feelings for Neo and the tension that was built from Shin disappearing from Neo and Mew when he ran away after seeing them kiss.

Achi and Karan- Cherry Magic: Thailand, Ep

The tension that broke for me in watching this kiss was 1000% about breaking the tension that Cherry Magic: Japan had built up by never letting Adachi and Kurosawa kiss in the original television show. Achi fully running up to Karan and kissing him, and them having a real, long, active, and enthusiastic kiss was a huge sigh of relief that Thailand was going to treat us right. Also, Karan crying? Killed me.

Cai and Gav- Gameboys, Ep 10

gif by @save-the-data

OKAY LISTEN. I DO NOT CARE THAT THEY ARE KISSING THROUGH PLASTIC. THESE TWO HAVE BEEN INTERACTING EXCLUSIVELY THROUGH FACETIME SCREENS FOR THE ENTIRE SERIES AND IT IS SO VITALLY IMPORTANT FOR THEM TO FINALLY BE ABLE TO HUG EACH OTHER, EVEN IF THERE IS STILL A BARRIER BETWEEN THEM. THIS KISS BROKE ALL THE TENSION OF THEM HAVING NEVER HAD A CHANCE TO SEE EACHOTHER FACE TO FACE THIS WAY. SO MANY THINGS HAD TO HAPPEN FOR THEM TO MAKE IT TO THIS POINT AND IT MAKES ME SO EMOTIONAL THAT THEY WERE ABLE TO GET THERE

Yuan and Qian- Unknown, Ep 6

Is Qian a willing participant in this kiss? No. But do I love it anyway? Yes. Why? Because it completely changes the nature of their relationship. It force Qian to wake up to Yuan's feelings, it is the culmination of Yuan no longer being able to hold back on his feelings for Qian despite trying for years and years and years to prevent this very scenario. This scene broke me, I'm obsessed with it, and all the air left the room the first time I had to sit through this scene. It's a brilliant moment both because of the tension it breaks and the tension it builds because holy fucking shit the aftermath of this is So Much.

Kevin and Pluem- Ghost Host, Ghost House, Ep 4

I mean....

I don't think I need to say anything more about this scene. It is one of the most expertly executed sexual tension building scenes that I have ever seen in my entire life. If you haven't seen this show, hell if you haven't seen this scene. Go watch it. You will see what I mean.

tagging: @happypotato48, @ginnymoonbeam, @colourme-feral, and @neuroticbookworm

[sortasirius]

"There Goes the Groom" and Buck's Queer Joy

Hey so...remember when I did post ep meta for two years? Anyway we're back like we've never left.

Best Hen <3

OBSESSED with micromanaging party planner Evan Buckley. The clipboard was there in spirit.

"You are late."

I'll take married for several years for $500, Alex.

"Ooo sliders."

"Ah ah. No."

"You didn't just do that." PLEASE

Tommy giving Eddie a bro-y high five and then a soft, sweet "hey" for Buck and a hug??? Fellas I might need to be sedated.

Also obsessed with the tinge of bitchiness in Eddie's tone. It's like jealousy without even realizing it's jealousy. And I think it's an interesting mix of "hey my best friend has a new friend" and something else that Eddie cannot label.

Ryan Guzman you must be studied for that little side eye lmfaoooo

I LOVEEEEE TOMMY HE'S SUCH A BITCH, he said I do not care for your party themes. Me for real.

Why were they all so obsessed with the sliders???? I love them all so much.

"Reach for them and you'll be pulling back a bloody stump." WITH THE RAISED EYEBROWS AND THE LITTLE HEAD TILT RYAN GUZMAN I AM KISSING YOU ON THE MOUTH.

"Wholesome, 80s-themed karaoke."

Buck was a party planner in another life and I stand by that.

"We should totally go as Crockett and Tubbs."

"Absolutely."

They are literally this meme:

The little shoulder rub that Buck gives Tommy <333333333333

The way Buck and Eddie are sitting during the party scene, Buck's arm absolutely SLUNG around his shoulder...yeah okay. Okay. I'm normal about this.

The whole party was two idiot best friends pointing at each other and saying "exactlyyyyyy." Yes, I would die for them.

I just want to say that every single thing about Chimney's journey this episode was heartbreaking and scary and I HATED that I didn't know what was going to happen to him the whole time. Ok thanks for your time.

From that guy stealing his car to every Doug jumpscare, I think they did a really good job freaking the audience (at least...me) the fuck out without actually revealing what had happened. Like..we know he's sick, we know something's wrong, but it was a well-paced episode, even if in my perfect world it would have been like two hours long lol.

And the fact that Maddie is always going to look for him, always going to find him, just like he would do for her...don't look at me I'm emo.

Chim essentially pushing the fact that he is actively dying from encephalitis to the side because being a paramedic and saving lives is so deeply ingrained in him it's something the can't forget? He's so important to me.

Then...Kevin. He's such a huge part of Chim's life, his arc, how he became a firefighter, and it essentially include him in the wedding (even though it was in a very scary way), I think it's a really great take on the idea that our loved ones who can't be there for milestones are there even when we can't see them, especially with his line "you invited me, remember?"

Doug was never there, but Kevin was, Kevin will be there even when Chim can't see him.

"I was trying to get back to you the whole time." THEY ARE EVERYTHING HOW CAN YOU NOT LOVE THEM. ALL THEY'VE BEEN THROUGH, ALL THEY'VE HAD TO DO, AND THEY STILL FOUGHT FOR AND CAME BACK TO EACH OTHER!!!!

Bobby officiating and saying "and the Los Angeles Fire Department" THEY ARE A FAMILY!!!!

And then...perhaps one of thee most important scenes ever aired on television ever:

"Sorry I'm late, that fire was a beast."

"So are you."

And STRAIGHT in for a SERIOUS kiss??????? 911 writers room you can have my life, take it, it's already yours.

Tommy's little huff of surprise and then hum of "yeah okay I'm down for this." PUT THEM IN THE DICTIONARY NEXT TO THE CUTEST COUPLE OF ALL TIME

And last...Buck coming in to the room where his family, both blood and chosen, is, with soot all over his face, and a smile so bright that it had to have lit up the entire west coast, not caring who saw him or who knew exactly what he had just been doing...yeah, that's what this shit is all about.

EDDIE'S beautiful smile when he realizes how happy Buck is they are best friends FIRST and that is all that matters to me!!!

Hen being like "it's about damn time." SO TRUE QUEEN OF COURSE SHE KNEW!!!!!

I haven't really been able to put this into words yet, but the way they are handling Buck's bisexuality and his first relationship with someone of the same gender as him is just...it's almost astounding. It's been handled with such care, from Oliver to Lou to the writers to the NETWORK, everyone is so clearly fully onboard with this and not afraid of it.

And there's no pain here, his coming out is not born out of trauma or being forced or caught or guilty. Tommy made him feel something that he had never been able to put a name to, and Tommy is helping him figure it out. He's letting Buck be overeager without taking advantage, he's letting him move at his own pace (which, of course, is at light speed) but is also confident enough in himself to pump the brakes when he feels like he needs to.

I just can't get enough of that smile, of how fucking happy Buck is. Happy in himself, happy with Tommy, happy to finally have a name for who he is, and not be afraid to share it with the people he loves. His parents' reactions don't matter, because he knows the people that matter to him most won't care who he's with, as long as he loves them and they treat him well.

It's such a huge step for Buck, who has so often fallen prey to what other people might think, it's so refreshing to see him get to explore this without fear of what others will say. Tommy is a steady constant, experienced and knows who he is. He teases Buck and calls him Evan and flirts with him shamelessly, and it flusters him in the best way.

To see a character like Buck, who was, essentially, billed as straight from the beginning of the show, be able to come in to himself and experience real queer joy...wow. For me, it just can't be overstated.

I can't wait to see where Buck's journey goes, and I am just so...grateful to be able to watch it.

[thecountesstribe]

House of the Dragon 2x3 episode reaction. I have alot of thoughts, bare with me.

The episode was eh but that's mostly just because it's the calm before the proverbial shitstorm.

BAELA “I COULD SMELL BITCH FROM A MILE AWAY AND IT'S ON SIGHT” TARGARYEN, HOW I LOVE YOU!! MOONDANCER IS BEAUTIFUL! MY BRAVE GIRL DID HER THING. IKTR POOKIE!! HER SASSING RHAENYRA, 10S across the board. I know Rhaenyra is tired 😩

I'll always feel for Rhaena, she finally was able to speak although, I wanted more dialogue from her, it's fuckin owed atp HBO, but you could feel her resentment, her anger and her frustration during her scenes. I feel so bad for her cause the only people that are really looking out for her are Rhaenys and Baela. Daemon don't give af, Rhaenyra is trying to find a balance between being a mother and queen but you could see that there is a distance between her and Rhaena even though she lived with them instead of on Driftmark with Rhaenys. When Rhaena first accepted the “mission” and walked off you could tell Rhaenyra wanted to tell her something but it looks like she doesn't know how to talk to her, which is fuckin sad. So those headcanons of her probably only having her brothers to talk to and Luke by extension makes her situation even worse. The glass child fr. So she's most definitely claiming a dragon this season and honestly good on her. Although if they do write Nettles out I'm gonna be pissed. That scene with Baela and her warmed my heart though. Another thing Rhaenyra totally brushing her feelings aside and being like my sons, my sons, my sons is totally not helping her character either. I'm honestly mad they fumbled the majority of the team black relationship dynamics. Rhaena going to ward is literally foreshadowing her future in the dance so I'm not mad at her, she did become everything Rhaenyra wanted her to be, was literally the last of the Targaryen's future and history before Dany came along. I know one thing though they better give her Morning idgaf what they gotta do. That is one important part of the plot I won't forgive if they rewrite it.

Honestly I don't give a damn who gets pissed but fuck Corlys. I said what I said and I'm not taking it back. I don't ever want to hear another “Rhaenyra and her bastard boys usurped Rhaena and Baela”, Corlys is just as misogynistic as the rest of the men in the realm. In the books the succession of the Driftmark throne was up in the air but they rewrited it in the show and yes Baela and Rhaena didn't have a claim to it cause Laenor was Corlys firstborn in the show and he did legitimize his boys but he had an opportunity to make Rhaena Lady of the Tides, she would've been either way had she married Luke as intended but he didn't and you wanna know why? Take a guess, exactly. It goes without saying. I understand him not naming Joff, he's heir to the throne in case anything happens to Jace but he could've named Rhaena and he didn't. So fuck him. Also foreshadowing for the end of the dance.

I wish y'all could've heard the long drawn out exhale that I let out knowing we gotta be see Larys Clubfoot ( the old man was so real for that name 🤣🤣😭😭🤣) more on my television screen. So Crispin, Clubfoot and Gwayne and Aegon, I can't win. Battle of the incels and they're failing upward while we lose 💔. I'm sick. The only thing I like about Gwayne is him irritating crybaby Cole and immediately clocking that there's something going on with him and Alicent. He's messy, I could appreciate that.

Young Rhaenyra was a nice little surprise even though the context for the scene was dark. Daemon getting his death notice in Harrenhal (also foreshadowing) and his dream sequence was peak if you ask me.

I need Rhaenys to never ever in her life speak on Luke's name again. I understand what she was trying to say but even having the audacity to insinuate that it's Luke's fault the war even started cause he took Aemond's eye (he was literally trying to protect his brother and her granddaughters) and that Otto and Weak King Vizzy T council wasn't planning to usurp and kill Rhaenyra from the start is blasphemy to the highest degree. Her clocking Rhaenyra's council was good though. The men in this show are just so ughhhhh. Why did they give Rhaena and Rhaenys an off screen goodbye when she was one of the most important people in her life and especially since she's gonna y'know...

Helaena telling Alicent she forgives her is so gonna hurt when we remember in future episodes. This is gonna greatly contribute to Alicent's suffering especially when Helaena goes off the deep end. She's going to realize she had a hand in destroying one of the purest and greatest things in her life and we the viewers are gonna be hurt.

Didn't expect to get a full blown view of Aemond hanging out but okay I guess. There he goes again not addressing his problems (his bum ass older brother, his nuisance, his bane of his existence) and going to take it out in somebody else though 🥱.

Sept Rhaenyra had the same energy as Arryk pretending to be Erryk and you can't convince me otherwise. I know they were gonna do a reunion between the two but Rhae still trying to be a pacifist and not knocking Alicent's head about even a little bit was stupid to me. She literally tormented her and her children for years! What more was there to say? Get in the field Rhaenyra!! Do you guys really think Alicent didn't know Viserys wasn't talking about her son Aegon? Let's all bffr for a second. She knew and they wanna chalk up the entire dance to it being a mistake is rather irritating. Alicent being prideful and can't admit to her wrongdoings even after the fact that Rhaenyra told her the prophecy is not in the least bit surprising. It just cheapens the outlook on the whole “Dance of the dragons” honestly.

I hate the fact that the writers spun the show into an Alicent vs Rhaenyra situation when the whole gist of season 1 and the books was Rhaenyra vs Misogyny. Women not being allowed to rule because they're women y'know.

In terms of screen writing HOTD IS WEAK and I'm blaming the writers for not reading the source material before putting pen to paper. Don't get me wrong I'm not saying they can't rewrite certain stuff, it's a given with the limited amount of episodes per season, sometimes you do need new plots to shock the viewers and you can't really get into everything but at certain points it's downright ridiculous. Spinning the conflict into a misunderstanding is stupid and I stand by that.

[rupertgayes]

How would you pitch watching Due South to someone who doesn't know it?

THE PREMISE: mountie from the northern reaches of canada goes to chicago to avenge dead dad (also a mountie), gets into buddy-cop shenanigans with a detective. said detective leaves the show in season 3 and gets replaced by another detective, shenanigans continue to ensue. there's also a dog. he's very cute.

THE PITCH: honestly, after being in the spn fandom and having most of popular culture awash with prestige shows (that are not spn, but like spn are typically dark and gritty and like killing characters off too) and having most of the popular media landscape try to cover their collective asses by having an aloof, 'you-can't-make-fun-of-this-because-we're-not-taking-it-seriously-ourselves' air, it was truly refreshing to sit down with a close friend of mine and check out this show.

i'm being completely serious when i say there's a certain je ne sais quoi about this show. is it because it's from the 90s? perhaps. is it because it's canadian? maybe. i wasn't even alive when this show first started airing and i'm not a media analyst. it basically takes the premise of the dudeley do-right cartoon and asks 'okay, but what if that was like, a real guy?' and fucking runs with it to the wildest heights. it's a comedy, but it's also so bizarre in some ways that it makes it a truly unique treat to watch. i love psych and brooklyn 99 for having a comedic procedural aspect, and neither of them are comparable in whatever it is that due south is doing.

there's honestly a lot of heart and soul in the entire show, and it has the ability to shift from just being comedic to having drama, mystery, and moments that pull at your heartstrings. it's a show that you can enjoy on the surface as a fun episodic show with fun characters and fun moments, but it also lends itself quite well to extrapolating on the characters, their motivations, etc. (and by etc i'm also including any shipping you might want to do).

i won't say it's a paragon of DEI, but again, i think it has a level of earnestness which makes any slip-ups it does have something i can kinda view with indulgence, versus shows that are making the same (or worse) mistakes 20+ years after this show already ended. these characters are treated with a level of dignity and respect, and i think overall the characterization is pretty consistent - there are some shifts happening between seasons 1-2 and 3-4, but i feel like it has more to do with budgets, a change in creative team, etc., versus writers not 'getting' certain characters.

there's also a lot of memorable episodes, scenes, bits. i think the latter seasons are more campy (my favorite) and some eps from s1 and 2 make for legitimately some great television. even the more mid episodes have something worthwhile, too. some of my fave moments in no order:

fraser (the mountie) saving and talking to? a rat in a strip club

also him going to a leather club

twice

and meeting a mountie in a latex version of his red serge uniform

using a tarp as a parachute

mafia egg conspiracy

aliens??

due south but make it silence of the lambs a little bit

performance arsonist

lake pirates? ghost ship?

also why are most of the major bad guys here doing some form of environmental crime? get your captain planet on ig, i'm into it

also fellow cops can also be bad guys. acab ig??

sick muscle cars eric kripke himself would've enjoyed. sometimes they get set on fire tho

due south but make it to wong foo thanks for everything

fraser running away from women so he doesn't have to kiss or interact with them

way too much time in closets, in general.

fellas is it gay to ask your new partner of one week maybe to pretend he's a woman so he can decide if he finds you attractive

there are red ships and green ships but no ships like partnerships :)

and to reiterate about the dog: there's a dog who's half wolf and all deaf and fraser can talk to him 'because he (the dog) reads lips'

his dead dad shows up too sometimes

anyway, it was really nice to watch this show for the first time, there are still moment i scream-laugh at because they're just so ridiculous and i'd never catch any other moments like that in any other show. i definitely see why there's still active fans for it thirty years later. there's also some wild shipping fodder here, which is at least partially why there are still fics getting written for these guys today. destiel if the cw weren't cowards etc etc. when i watched the finale, i cried tears of joy because while i'd miss the characters, they got an ending that actually seemed to fit, instead of it being a rush job, which is not unique to spn but, you know.

also you can watch it for free on youtube rn.

[alicepao13]

Hudson and Rex S02E06 - Under the Influencer

I don't really like this episode, I find the subject surrounding the murder and the whole influencer thing boring, plus it somehow was the most repeated episode when it aired in Greece (somehow they managed to put a few of them on a loop. Idiots). But I'll make an effort.

I think someone knew that the subject isn't too appealing which is why in the scene after the murder we get Charlie and Rex playing/training.

I know Diesel is a well-trained dog but I can't help thinking that a) I wouldn't put my hand there and b) I hope they pay John Reardon well.

I am with Charlie on this one, we shouldn't know about any of these people's lives. It's all like a bad reality show, and reality shows are already bad.

"Weddings and bad luck are virtually synonymous in my books" - Charlie Hudson. So, we're going with this now. And it's a cute small scene with Sarah and Charlie discussing weddings.

"Until death do them part, or another man in my case". Poor resentful man. It will get better.

If anyone actually speaks like that in real life, please don't tell me. Leave me blissfully unaware.

It's so insane how no literally no one actually cared for Katie enough, not even her mother, and the man who seemed to care the most about her actually killed her.

Rex: *repeatedly barks to indicate poison* Charlie: *repeatedly ignores him*

That's a lot of purple for a wedding.

Fun fact: The Greek word for the flower "snapdragons" is skylaki which translates to "doggo". I am not making this up. So, maybe that's why Rex likes them lol

Poor Jesse had to explain the term shipping to Charlie and Joe.

Charlie Hudson canonically ships Batman and Robin. Huh.

Fiance gets brought in for questioning because he has set up a ship account shipping him and one of the bridesmaids. We live in crazy times.

"I know this looks like a thirst trap..." And Charlie is error 404.

Katie may not have deserved to die but she was an awful human being.

"Your children's interests infiltrate your brain" I don't know what Joe is talking about. The only thing my parents ever got out of my interests as a child was a deep hatred for Pokemon, video games, and television, and a mild approval for the Harry Potter movies (at least back when JKR wasn't an unhinged right-wing nut).

Well, that reaction I get. Also Rex's what-the-fuck as well.

Sarah: The happier people look online, the sadder they are in reality. Charlie: You should post that.

Remember when Joe wanted things to be done by the book in the previous episode? Well, in this one Charlie is breaking into the storage locker without a warrant, right after asking Jesse if they're actually going to get that warrant and being assured that it won't be a problem. Good tv? Yes. Bad police procedure? Also yes.

For a shirt that says Katie club? Bitch, please.

"When you're a social media star, having trolls is a sign of success". Yeah, no. Any idiot with a few hundred followers can have trolls.

The scene with Rex's takedown in the storage area is almost comical and badly edited, with too much slow-mo. The scene with Rex's takedown outside the airport is better, has some obstacles which are good for jumps and such, and doesn't make me want to cringe. Although again, more slow-mo than what is needed.

Well, I'm glad it's on this show because in other fandoms this wouldn't have gotten weird so fast...

[batsarebetterthanpeople]

okay legit question. and i'm eager to have this discussion. can you help me understand why you think that izzy scene was comedic? if it's purely based on those pathetic whimpers he made at the end of the scene, i'm honestly not convinced. god knows i've made pathetic noises like that when i've been genuinely upset about something. yeah that shit's awkward but isn't dismissing the noise as comedic sort of relying in the expectation that drama should be pretty?

and this ask wasn't meant to sound dismissive of your opinion btw, or defensive of izzy. (i love that weird and evil little freak for being a weird and evil little freak and thats all.) i'm just confused as to how that scene could be read that way.

Ok so lets start off with that in season 1 Izzy is not granted like even a shred of sympathy in any similar situation. We've seen this man cry before and when it happened Ed and Stede were making sex noises in the background and there was a jaunty little tune over it. Generally when writers and directors want us to be sympathetic to a character they build an emotional connection to that character and they just haven't done that for Izzy.

But moving onto the scene itself: This is the extended joke set up in season one of the disconnect of treating a pirate ship like workplace with HR. They're having like an intervention for Izzy and using the words "unhealthy relationship" and "toxic" to talk about toe chopping, which is excellent. I know the internet vernacular has kind of made these the go to words but you get how "toxic relationship unhealthy boundary setting" is not generally how television characters talk about stuff like this. Jim and Frenchie are out here using modern therapy words.

Then Archie starts talking about how much Rhino Horn Ed does which is incredible. they could have said he's doing weed, they could have said he's doing opium, they could have said he's doing a more modern drug, ofmd doesn't shy away from that, but instead they went with the most esoteric ye olde Viagra pull ever. Ed's doing fucking RHINO HORN???? Superb.

Then there's the the fact that Izzy clearly hates every second of it. Like these teddy bear capybara friend shaped men (Fang and Frenchie) are just like "hey you ok bro?" to a guy who HATES expressing any emotions so much that he spend like a whole season trying to stop Ed from doing it. Like you can feel how bad he wants to throw himself overboard from embarrassment

Then there's Fang. Dionysus an Emmy for that man. He pats Izzy on the shoulder and then Izzy pushes him away with the weakest I'm fine in history and then he goes in and gives him a hug from behind which is very much reminicent of like a hold a medical professional would use to subdue someone who is a danger to themselves or others without harming them. And then he just starts rocking him

And then there's the actual breakdown itself. I want to preface this with that I understand that in real life you might make some weird noises during a breakdown. But this is not real life. Usually when actors have breakdowns on stage or tv they have to decide what choices they're going to make. You can do a pretty cry, you can go overdramatic and comedic, you can make the audience uncomfortable in a veriety of ways. What Con has chosen here is air being let out of a balloon, He snorts like a pig, he whimpers. You know when you blow up a balloon and you pull the valve tight and it makes a screaming sound. His choice to heem heem whimper is histerical. And then he makes the sound and fang gives out a soft "am I crushing you" as if Fang thinks he's making the noise because of physical discomfort.

and then like everyone else's reactions. They're all so uncomfortable. Fang is like It's all right it's all right while Jim looks to Archie like "are you seeing this?" and Archie looks back and forth between them and then Frenchie is doing this with his face

and then there's the music. My god the music is just the sappiest shit ever over this??? like the whole thing is hillarious. Emmys for all of them

Edit: I forgot the funniest part. This whole thing is this Tweet

[autisticlancemcclain]

keeping up with the coalition, episode 1 -- pilot

[Static flits across the screen, interrupted by brief flashes of darkness. When it finally settles, a gloved hand is visible, taking up the screen as it adjusts the camera. It finally pulls away to reveal a man with a truly expressive moustache, sitting on a small couch. He is beaming so brightly his eyes are squeezed shut. At the bottom of the screen, his name appears in bold font: Coran, Advisor of the Altean Throne, Castle Warden – of Fun!]

Coran: Hello, people of Earth!

[His smile becomes slightly more contained as he speaks, and his eyes are finally visible. They are a deep, vivid green.]

Coran: I was talking to one of our paladins, Lance, and he has informed me that a popular way of recording history on Earth is through a type of media called ‘reality television’! He says it’s a constant recording of people’s lives as they live it, with frequent cuts for interviews at key moments. I have decided to make a reality television program of our space adventure, so you all can see how your fellow Terrans are saving the universe!

[He claps his hands once, grin growing once again. His glorious moustache twitches.]

Coran: I hope you all enjoy!

[Chucking. He twists his moustache mischievously.]

Coran: There will be no shortage of entertainment. That, I guarantee.

⁕⁕⁕

[The scene cuts to the same couch from before, only this time, a young man sits on it upside-down, long legs kicking in the air. He has the hood of his green army jacket flopped over his eyes. At the bottom of the screen, flashing over his face, his name appears in bold font: Lance, Blue Paladin (and Casanova!).]

Lance: …and then I said to Hunk no way, dude, do you actually think we could build a real-life Wall-E – oh, hey, is the camera recording now?

[He pauses a moment, presumably for confirmation, and then smirks, shooting finger guns at the camera. He is still upside down, and his brown eyes are half hidden by his ridiculous hood.]

Lance: Nice! Now, I’m not sure what this is for, but Coran says that he wants to start keeping records of our time in space, with some live testimonials –

[Something visibly dawns on him. Almost faster than the camera can pick up, he scrambles upright, lunging over the arm of the couch so far that the only part of him visible is his green sock-clad foot, extended to keep him balanced.]

Lance (hollering loudly): Coran! Coran! Did you make us a reality show? For us to star in?

[A pause.]

Coran (faintly, as if far away): Why, yes, lad! It was a truly splendid idea!

[Lance flops backwards onto the couch, laughing, arm over his eyes.]

Lance (yelling, again): Coran, I love ya! You’re the best!

Coran (amused, still faint): Anytime, dear. I love you, too.

[Lance giggles quietly again, and then removes the arm from his eyes to glance at the camera.]

Lance: This, and no part of me is exaggerating, is the greatest thing to happen to me, ever. Well, after Blue. And the birth of my niece and nephew. And meeting Hunk. And also meeting everyone else. And fighting Zarkon that first time. Oh, and –

[He shakes himself.]

Lance: Well, point made. This is going to be awesome. Maybe Coran will let me edit the videos! I bet I’ll get to add fun subtitles and stuff. Oh, God, I can’t wait to hear about how Keith handles it! I bet he’s gonna sit on the couch and be grumpy like an old kitty cat, isn’t he? Man. I have the best ideas in the world. This is gonna be great!

⁕⁕⁕

[The next shot opens to the same couch, again, only this time the only thing visible is the very top of someone’s head, along with their very floofy blonde hair,]

The person (deadpan): Are you fucking serious.

[A stomping sound, angry muttering, A freckled hand reaches up to adjust the camera, revealing a grouchy looking girl with large round glasses that take up half her face, making her hazel eyes look huge. She turns away and stomps back to the couch, arms crossed over her chest. She glares at the camera for several minutes, until finally her lips twitch into a smile. At the bottom of the screen flashes bold font, reading: Pidge, Green Paladin and Tech Goddess. Under it, smaller, reads: (sorry, Pidge, camera settings are hard).]

Pidge: I suppose I’ll let that one slide. Although if it happens again, someone is getting hacked to hell.

[She sighs, rolling her eyes playfully as she uncrosses her arms.]

Pidge: So.

Pidge: Lance tells me we’re doing a reality show. Well, not ‘tells’. He gushed about it for hours. He’s convinced this is his key to one day meeting Meryl Streep when we get back to Earth. 

[She smirks.]

Pidge: Well, if we do meet Meryl Streep, I’m gonna tell her that that he unironically uses lines from the Devil Wears Prada in diplomatic missions. That’ll make his face so red he might explode, which is my main goal in life. 

[She shakes her head, face returning to a more serious look.]

Pidge: But on a real note, this is dumb. Who cares about whatever dumb gossip and drama goes on around here? We all know that’s what it’s really about. If it was about historical records, then we would just use mission records. I mean, really. Who cares about all the dumb, frivolous shit?

[The video cuts abruptly to security footage of two people in the briefing room, hunched over a table with dozens on dozens of files open. The people are too far for the camera to make out any dialogue. The video stays steady for a moment, a static view of the entire room at large, before shifting slightly to focus more on the ceiling. Barely visible, in the top right corner, is a hunched blob, hanging from the rafters. Perhaps a nest, of some sort?

Ever so slowly, the camera zooms in on the blob, and it becomes startlingly clear that the blob is Pidge, hanging upside down, one hand extended towards to the two figures below, holding a listening device, the other hand frantically typing things on a tablet.]

[The video flips back to Pidge, who is scowling intensely. Her ears are red.]

Pidge: That is not me.

[There’s a long, long pause. Three minutes, at least. The entire time, Pidge’s face only gets redder. She sniffs derisively, attempting to look prim and pompous.]

Pidge: Alteans can shapeshift, you know. And Allura loves gossip! That’s probably her.

[The screen flashes with the word REWIND, all-caps and bolded. It plays back to the security video, a still picture of the room at large, except this time there are two flashing red circles: one around Pidge, hunched from the rafters, and one around a woman with thick white hair floofing around her head. Then the video returns to Pidge, for whom the redness has spread to cover her cheeks and nose as well as her ears. Finally she throws her hands up in frustration, cracking under the self-imposed pressure.]

Pidge (shouting): Fine! Maybe I like gossip a little. And don’t show that stupid video again, I swear to God. 

[She sighs, rubbing a hand down her face.]

Pidge: Yeah, yeah. Fine. I guess this won’t be the end of the world. Probably. it might – and I mean might  – be fun. A little. 

⁕⁕⁕

[The couch, again, and this time it opens to a young man, broad-shouldered, an orange bandana around his forehead and a screwdriver between his teeth. He has some sort of device in his hands. He squints, twisting a wire carefully, and –

The device explodes, a cloud of black smoke filling the room. When it finally clears, there is soot settled all over the room, coating the couch and the young man sitting on it. He sighs deeply, hanging his head. When he finally looks at the camera again, he’s smiling, although exasperated, and the screwdriver is no longer in his teeth. His name and title flash on the screen the same way as the others: Hunk, Yellow Paladin, Engineer of the Eons.]

Hunk: Well. I would absolutely love to say that’s a rare occurrence, but unfortunately I am an intensely curious person and the universe just loves to punish me for it.

[He glances up at the ceiling.]

Hunk: Uh, I’m kidding. Please don’t smite me.

[There’s a moment of anticipatory silence, presumably in wait of a smiting, but none is forthcoming.]

Hunk: Well, that’s a relief. Lance says one day I’m going to challenge a higher power that actually exists and get my ass kicked for it. I’ve yet to see that happen, and I’ve challenged a lot of higher powers. But Lance has a lot of good predictions, so jury’s still out. He has promised to back me up if I ever do get targeted by some god, though, which is nice of him. Gotta love the guy. 

[He clears his throat.]

Hunk: Anyways. Speaking of Lance. He tells me we’re doing a reality show?

[He snorts, shaking his head in amusement.]

Hunk: That oughtta be fun. I’ve been struggling getting the tea on Keith or Shiro, so this will be an excellent opportunity. And I don’t even have to snoop!

[He tilts his head in consideration.]

Hunk: Well, I might anyway. I’ve noticed that Keith has a helluva sweet tooth. I bet I could lower his resolve with some chocolate cake, he seems like a chocolate cake kinda guy. 

Hunk: Eh. We’ll see. I haven’t found any real chocolate up here yet, but I’ll convince Pidge to test some concoctions of mine. Has she gone yet? Yeah? Oh, who’s next? Is it Allura? I bet it’s Allura. She’s been frothing at the mouth ever since Lance spread the word about this thing – 

⁕⁕⁕

[The next video starts with a screech so high and loud it actually shakes the camera. Seconds later, a woman comes barrelling into the room, so quickly she’s a blur, white hair flowing behind her. She hops on the couch, and then keeps hopping, clapping her hands excitedly. Midair, text appears at the bottom of the screen: Allura, Princess of Altea, Queen of our Hearts.]

Allura: Oh, it is finally my turn! Finally finally finally! I have been waiting, for what must have been years! 

[There is a chorus of squeaking noises, and then four mice scamper up Allura’s arms, settling in her hair. Their presence only makes Allura beam wider, and she reaches up to pet them as she speaks.]

Allura: I am so excited.

[She laughs softly. The sound is somehow reminiscent of a gentle wind blowing through a flower meadow.]

Allura: Although I’m sure that’s obvious. I just love Terran culture! Everything is so strange on your planet. I cannot hear enough. Once a movement we all sit in the common room as one and watch an Earth movie from Pidge’s laptop, and it is most delightful! The music is so fun. Altean films never had music; it’s an excellent idea.

[Her brightness seems to dim slightly, and her smile turns sad.]

Allura: Of course I do miss Altean movies. Perhaps I shall suggest one on our next movie night. Pidge is very curious of our culture. 

[She shakes herself, smile turning grand once more. The mice squeak softly, nuzzling her head.]

Allura: Moving on! I can scarcely wait for this show to continue on. Coran has assured me that the videos will be available for us to watch if we so choose.

[She smirks.]

Allura: I can assure you all that I will be making constant use of that promise. I must know what’s going on with my paladins, you know. It’s my duty as a princess!

⁕⁕⁕

[The next camera cut reveals a young man with a… retro haircut and a fun red jacket, scowling deeply. His boot taps rapidly on the tiled floor, in time with his bouncing leg. Every so often he huffs, glancing at the camera before rolling his eyes and glancing away. The text at the bottom of the screen reads: Keith, Red Paladin, Ninja Sword Guy.]

Keith: Alright, fine. I guess I’m speaking first. Are we really doing, deadass, a reality show? Fuckin’ – like Dance Moms, or something?

[Faint laughter rings through the room, and the camera points to the hallway, where Hunk is poking his head in.]

Hunk: You know what Dance Moms is?

Keith: I grew up with Shiro, Hunk. Believe me when I tell you that I know of every reality show in existence. 

[He shudders.]

Keith: Especially ANTM. I get nightmares about that damn show.

[Hunk snorts disbelievingly.]

Hunk: All Shiro, huh?

[Keith hesitates.]

Keith: Well. I mean. Tracking Blue’s freaky energy only took so much time, okay? And the dumbass shack had cable, sometimes. And in no way is it my fault that Keeping Up With The Kardashians is funny! Oh, fuck off, Hunk, stop laughing! This is my interview! You had yours already!

[The camera slowly pulls away from the hallway where Hunk is retreating, waving a teasing hand behind his back. When the camera settles back on Keith again, he’s scowling, but he somehow looks significantly more amused.]

Keith: Not a second of alone time in this damn place, I swear to God. 

[He huffs, looking down at his dorky gloves, twisting his hands together. When he speaks again, it’s very quiet.]

Keith: I guess I don’t mind it too much, though. It’s kind of nice – ish! – having other people around who aren’t the world’s most annoying assholes. 

[He rolls his eyes again.]

Keith: Well, not counting Lance. And Shiro! Those two, I swear! You know, I bet they’re behind this. Lance especially – he never shuts up about being famous – but don’t let Shiro fool you, either. That man would cut off his other arm for some decent drama, and you can tell him I said that. Heh. 

⁕⁕⁕

[The video opens, to the final time, to the couch, with one last young man sitting upon it. He looks serenely forward, legs crossed and hands resting on his knees. He smiles slightly when he realises the camera is rolling, sending it a dorky little wave. The text at the bottom of the screen reads: Shiro, Black Paladin, Sensei Splinter of Space.]

[He squints slightly, as if examining something small, and then chuckles.]

Shiro: Coran let Lance have access to the editing privileges, huh? I wonder what titles he’s chosen for everyone else. 

[He shakes his head.]

Shiro: I can’t wait to see. I’m actually pretty excited about this. It’s not something people would know about me, but I’ve indulged in the occasional reality shows. Not often, though.

[There’s a muffled voice off-screen, and the longer it goes on the higher Shiro’s eyebrow raises, and the sharper his jaw juts out.]

Shiro (deadpan): Keith said what. Oh, that little brat. 

[His expression clears up suddenly, annoyance turning rapidly into a look so smug it rivals Lance’s from earlier.]

Shiro: Well, if we’re spilling secrets, then buckle the hell up. You know those dumbass little go-go boots? He’ll tell anyone who listens that they were a rare vintage find, they’re antiques, they’re worth hundreds of dollars blah blah blah. He’ll compare ‘em to his fuckin’ Jordans that Adam bought him a couple years ago. 

[He laughs evilly.]

Shiro: Well he’s a liar. There’s this dorky little eighties anime that he was obsessed with when he was a kid, right? He came across some leather that was material ready – do not ask me how, apparently some kid named Taylor gave it to him at the Garrison, between you and me those two had a crush on each other or at least Keith did – and he spent four straight days piecing those shoes together by hand to match his favourite character!

[He laughs, and this time it’s much fonder.]

Shiro: That damn kid. Once he gets something in his head…God, I love that kid. Brat. 

[He sighs, shaking his head.]

Shiro: All the kids, really. The universe…it’s in good hands, guys. I can’t wait for you all to get to know the people who are saving it.