#ask-some-shapes 2019

[once-a-shape]

Well. I think it was bound to happen eventually SJCBSJDHW

Due to how sporadic my motivation tends to be and how bad my focus can be at times, along with how vastly my life's changed since i first started this blog, I'm going to be turning once-a-shape into a regular fandom sideblog, simply for posting about my little guys because im Still too attached to them.

I won't be getting rid of asks entirely though, those are still an option! just, don't expect it to be too linear. The old posts will also remain up for archival purposes, since honestly this blog was where my proper fandom experiences began, and so it means a lot to me- to see how far i've come, and how it used to be back then.

While I'm at it, since the blog is not an ask blog anymore,,, might as well share some of the concept art I had from 2019/2020/2021 for it!! You can also have the old playlist I made for the event that I had planned before I restarted the blog!

[muniimyg]

𐙚₊˚⊹ boxer!jungkook⋆𐙚₊˚⊹

series m.list // taglist closed

boxer jk x neuro doctor oc

post fight vibes

meet cute

note: possibly a mini series but idk

after his home and the ring; jungkook's third home is the hospital.

yet, one thing he will never get used to are the bright lights. 

fuck. 

they’re always so fucking bright.

it doesn’t matter if he’s in for nearly busting his brain or if he’s just here for a casual IV drip—each time, the lights are insanely bright.

the hospital room is too white too. 

too sterile for someone like him.

his eyes flicker down to his knuckles. they’re split and bruised, resting against his stomach, rising and falling with each slow breath. his lip is cut, swollen at the corner, and when he rolls his shoulders back, he winces—just slightly—like he's trying not to show it.

suddenly, the doors burst open and his head turns towards it. 

you walk in. 

navy blue scrubs, white doctors coat, and your hair is tied high and back. 

it’s… love at first sight. 

your cheeks are so perfect. that’s the first thing he notices about you. they have this puff that makes him wonder if anyone has ever complimented you on them. next, are your lips. they’re perfectly shaped—so kissable. maybe he’s just that fucked in the head but everything about you looks so perfect. like your eyes are the exact size they need to be. you button nose where your glasses sit so cutely… 

god help him. 

maybe he got beat up a little too much this match. 

jungkook swallows drly as you approach him. you pull out the scans and show him on the monitor. you glance at them and then at him. for a moment, you’re silent and he doesn’t know if he should be saying anything. 

should he introduce himself? 

better yet, can you introduce yourself?

"you're concussed," you say simply.

jungkook blinks at you, like he was expecting more. 

"that bad?"

"you've had worse." you say it simply as you click on the monitor and pull out old scans from months ago. your eyes widen as you look through the ones from the past 3 years. pausing at one scan from 2019, you use your pen to gesture around the areas where he’s been concussed before. “this old one? probably your worst one.” 

he huffs out a laugh, shifting in his seat. 

"my brain is still here, though. couldn’t have been that bad, huh?"

you don’t humor the joke. 

"debatable."

his grin widens, even through the soreness. "harsh, doctor…”

“doctor ___.” 

“___,” he breathes. “that’s pretty.”

“doctor ___.” you correct.

“right,” jungkook folds. then, the moment shifts. he can’t help but blurt; “... you sure you're not just mad you had to sub in for my usual guy?"

"not mad," you say, flipping through his chart. "just not impressed."

he laughs again, low and raspy, like this whole thing is funny. like the fractures and bruising on his scans are nothing more than a bad grade on a test.

"aren't you too young to be a doctor?"

you glance at him, raising a brow. 

"aren't you too young to have this many head injuries?"

his smile lingers, but he doesn’t say anything for a beat like he's trying to come up with a clever response. like he's trying to read you.

"did you win?" you ask instead.

"huh?"

"your fight."

his grin flickers—surprise, maybe. or amusement. 

"yeah. of course."

you nod, flipping the chart closed. 

"is it worth it?"

he tilts his head, the movement slow. calculated. like he's trying to see if you're serious. truth be told, he can’t read you. not your tone or your facial expression. it intrigues him… how could someone be so warm and so cold at the same time? you’re lukewarm… but it’s refreshing. it’s scratches his fucked up brain somehow.

"i'll tell you," jungkook muses, "if you go out with me."

you scoff. 

"that's okay."

he waits.

"some things are worth asking about," you say, pushing your chair back. you stand up and lean over to check over his vitals. as you fix his IV, you squint as you notice his knuckles. for some reason, jungkook suddenly fights to urge to reach for you. his fingers twitch. you see it. you brush it off and say; "some things aren't worth the answer."

you don’t miss the way his lips part slightly, his brows lifting in surprise. 

you don’t stick around to see if he has a follow-up. you grab your clipboard and head towards the door. as you push the door open to leave, you bid him goodbye. 

"rest up, mr. jeon."

the next time jungkook is back, it's not you.

"dr. ___ isn’t in today?" jungkook asks, trying to sound… anything but how it came out.

namjoon doesn’t look up from his notes. 

“you met her?”

“yeah,” he breathes. “can’t get her out of my head ever since.”

namjoon chuckles as he takes out his slit lamp and examines jungkook’s eye movement. as jungkook’s eyes follow the light, nam joon continues;

"why’s that?”

“dunno,” jungkook confesses. 

namjoon can’t take jungkook seriously. he’s never been the type to care about girls since they’ve always come to him one way or another… but knowing you, he should’ve known jungkook would take interest. 

“miss her or something?" nam joon teases. “love at first concussion?”

“not my first concussion… and i was just wondering. shit, man.” jungkook shrugs, trying to move past it. suddenly, he’s embarrassed. 

namjoon hums, like he doesn’t believe him (because he doesn’t).

"she doesn't date patients," namjoon says, flipping a page and writing down notes from jungkook’s checkup. "definitely not ones with a brain like yours."

jungkook blinks. "is it that bad?"

namjoon grins. "she spends her days saving patients who get injured unwillingly. you? boxing? that's a choice. you're her least favorite kind of patient."

"but am i her type?"

namjoon laughs and shakes his head. 

"your brain is fucked up."

when jungkook’s checkup finishes, he says goodbye to namjoon and exits the room. 

then, like fate, he sees you in the hall when he's leaving. you're walking in the opposite direction, clipboard tucked against your hip, eyes scanning over charts.

jungkook doesn’t think. 

he moves.

jungkook catches up to you and taps your shoulder. as you turn your head to respond, he steps forward and in front of you instead. suddenly, you face him.

"you."

you blink up at him, unimpressed. "me."

"i'm not concussed anymore."

"i'm glad,” you smile at him softly before you lower your gaze back to your charts. “have a good day mr. jeon—"

"i won that match," he says, like it's important. like it means something.

you pause.

"i'm a good boxer," he continues, standing taller. "i don’t get injured that much. when you saw me last… i let the guy get in a few hits. whatever… it was for show, i swear to god… but if you go out with me, i promise to always win and never get a head injury ever again."

you stare at him.

he waits.

you exhale, shifting your clipboard to the other hand. then, before he can say anything else, your fingers push into his hair, ruffling it gently.

his breath hitches.

you drop your hand and step past him.

"i think you're still a little concussed," you murmur. 

“i’m not,” jungkook says, voice soft. “one chance.”

you tilt your head at him and for a moment, you really contemplate. his lip looks almost healed. his knuckles are only bruised now… for a moment, you want to give in. 

“do you ever lose?”

he scoffs. “no.”

you nod and begin to slip away. jungkook stands there confused at the growing distance. as you walk away, you tell him; 

“maybe you should learn how to.”

“why? so you can feel better about rejecting me?"

jungkook tilts his head, lips twitching. he lifts his foot to move to you but you shake your head at him. he stops his tracks. cutely, you mimic him and tilt your head too, feigning sympathy. 

"no, so you stop getting concussed."

he grins, sharp and easy. "i told you, i don't get injured that much."

"right… just enough to keep me employed."

his laughter comes quick, like he wasn't expecting that. 

"damn," he mutters, shaking his head. "you got a sharp tongue, doc."

you exhale through your nose, the closest thing to a laugh you’ve given him, and start toward the door. with one hand, you wave him off, like he’s not worth the breath it takes to keep talking.

but just before you step out, jungkook hears you murmur over your shoulder—low, teasing, like you’re indulging him for just a second longer.

"good thing you’re used to taking hits, jeon."

jungkook’s smile lingers long after you’ve disappeared down the hall. for a moment, he contemplates on running after you and continuing to annoy you… and then, for the nth time today… he thinks. 

he’ll be back. 

injured or not—he’s coming back just for you.

[rexomi]

Something something. Making Solas a liar in Veilguard actively brings back a problem they fixed working on Inquisition.

On December 20 2019 VGS posted an interview with Trick Weekes about their work on Solas. This whole sentence is a link so its large enough for mobile but also disclaimer this is before they changed their name so deadname warning.

Here's a transcription I found here which is where i took the screenshots above. Since I know not everyone has 40 minutes to listen to an online radio interview.

I however highlighted the main point since most of you are not reading the screenshots anyway but skimming through. Rant under Read-more. Also bc i try to not be too negative on people's dashs but also i wanna ramble some more.

"But he lied a lot more. And it really weakened his character."

You can tell this happened during the game. Solas lies only once within Inquisition. He says something he can't be vague about and you push him so he lies, badly. He usually tells the truth vaguely. Typically Solas lies no more than Blackwall.

I fully believe that if in Inquisition your inquisitor figured out that Solas was Fen’harel and asked him bluntly to his face he'd confess. He might even be impressed. But why would you ever start to think that. No one assumes that their coworker is actually Poseidon regardless of how much they love the beach and ocean.

He hides in your expectations.

You can't ask him about being an ancient elf or being Fen'harel of myth because those aren't very probable. They're astronomically low to be truth within that universe. And outside, no one finished DA2 and went i wonder if one of our next companions is the Dread Wolf. Sera said, impossible things can't be surprises. He doesn't have to lie so when the truth comes out it's becomes obvious on a second playthrough.

They then actively bring back a problem they fixed in Inquisitions development. That they were open about fixing. That having a character that outright lies to you makes you have no intention of even hearing out the character. It retroactively undercuts Inquisition bc i see people trying to find Solas' lies in it when they aren't going to find any beyond the court intrigue.

It undercuts any lore we do get from Solas bc people dismiss it outright as being a lie from Mr "I abhor blood magic". I feel like shaking people's shoulders like no, dont do it.

They retconned him guys i have proof from 2019.

And its like if you hate Solas is this even satisfying? Like that's not Solas. His motivations are gone (that's a whole other post) and so is his core personality trait. It's like they went here's the Dreadwolf but during the ten years they replaced the smug asshole who was insufferably right with a 20 yo senior chihuahua that doesnt have any teeth.

My favorite villains are those that tell the truth. Because nothing hurts more than the truth. Can you imagine if he told you the truth. If he told you horrible things that you dismissed as lies to only be true. Wouldn't Varric’s death have more weight if he told you Varric was dead only for you - for everyone - to see him in the Lighthouse. If it was a spirit who took his shape to help you or even because it saw something worth reflecting in your memories.

So you dismiss him until it's revealed near the end oh he was telling the truth and you have an oh shit maybe he was right about other things but its too late to try and stop any of the truths he told you which could be from allies/companions betraying to stuff about Ghilan'nain and Elgarnan.

Like the only way to redeem Solas was to listen to him and by going out of your way to address problems he sees and you can find the alternative to tearing down the Veil by a series a little puzzle pieces throughout the game.

Have it be he will only listen to you if you listen to him. That he'll reject your other solution bc why the hell would he trust you if you couldnt extend the same.

Like Solas couldve been a great villian and he should've been great for both the haters and those that liked him. Not only the romance but for those who became his friend. Like i keep coming back to if i hated Solas would i be satisfied with Veilguard.

And the answer is no because that isnt Solas.

Tricking him has no weight bc he's an idiot in Veilguard like not even in the ending bc doesn't notice you switch the dagger around like right in front of him but none of his actions make sense. Ppl have mentioned the regret prison makes no sense for Elgarnan and Ghilan'nain bc they don't have regrets.

Attacking Solas has no weight because he literally needs the shit kicked out of him by a dragon for it to even begin to work. They literally need him to be at deaths door before its realistic that Rook could take him in a fight.

Redeem has no weight bc of the massive retcons to his motivations. They had to retcon the post credits scene bc even if Flemythal went hey i don't want you to do this Dai Solas wouldve went okay but that doesnt solve my other problems with the veil including the corruption of spirits and the fact its in literal shambles so i guess is still coming down.

I'm just disappointed. By the end of Trespasser they had a great villian and they just tossed it to the side and reverted him and people are arguing about a character who's sole defining trait in Veilguard is a problem they solved before Inquisition launched.

Basically we can sum it up with a screenshot.

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

NEW THINGS ABOUT SEASON 3 👀❤

“I knew where I needed them at the beginning of Season 3; that was something that I’d known for a very long time,” Gaiman told TV Insider at the Writers Guild Awards in April 2024. “I remember sitting with John Finnemore, with whom I co-wrote Season 2 and talking maybe in 2019, 2020, about the shape of the story. And John was saying, ‘Well, we need an ending. We’ve got everything planned out, but we don’t have the last 10 minutes. How is it going to end?’ And when he asked me, I knew exactly how it was going to end and I explained to him that it was going to end with a kiss and suddenly everything fell into place.”

“I’m writing it currently, so I don’t know what I can say other than I got a video message from David Tennant this morning asking me where the scripts were, because he wants to read more of them. He’s only read the first three and he’s very excited to find out what happens next,” Gaiman told TV Insider in April 2024. “It’s going to be fun. Some people that you love will be coming back; some that you expect, some that you don’t. And it’s more like the high-paced, high stakes madness of Season 1, I think, than it is like the sort of gentle, romantic, funny, sweet Season 2.”

[alyssawritcs]

WINDOW   WATCHING   (   a   trevante  rhodes   fanfic   )   . one  -  shot  .

love   interest   :   trevante  rhodes  (  specifically  2016  -  2019  tre  ) rating   :   m  as  shit  .  (  smut  ,  drinking  ,  smoking  ,  voyeurism  ,  masturbation  ,  public  sex  ,  plain  ol'  p in v sex  ) wc   :   6.7k author's   note   :   this  is  so  old  ngl  ,  i  wrote  this  like  five  years  ago  and  never  posted  it  so  my  apologies  if  anything  feels  off  time  -  wise  .  this  was  pre  -  pandemic  even  !  but  yeah  ,  harking  back  to  my  moonlight  /  tre  obsessed  phase  ugh  what  a  time  !

The hardest part about moving into the off campus housing for Ashley was the fact that she had to pay for laundry. 

Back in DuBois Hall, where she'd lived for the past two years, there was free laundry. It was one of the few perks she liked, other than her friends always being within arm’s reach. Now, she lived in a small studio apartment just ten minutes away from D-Hall and she had to be scrounging up quarters for her to be able to wash her damn clothes. 

Therefore, she was happy most of her friends had remained in the dorms and were more than happy to let her swipe their student IDs so she could get into the laundry room on her old floor and take care of business. Every Thursday, she'd roll her little wheel-y hamper over to the U-shaped building, enter on the left side, and ride the elevator to the ninth floor where she would spend three hours with her friends while she waited for her shit to wash and then dry. 

This Sunday was no different, other than that it was a little later in the evening than usual. It was only nine o'clock when she'd thrown her clothes into the dryer and was walking back toward her friends Imani & Serena’s room. Suddenly, a group of giggling girls ran in before her. When Ashley turned the corner, there were about ten girls in the room, all gathered around the large window on the other side of the room. 

“What are y'all doing?” Ashley pushed through the crowd, standing next to Imani who had a pair of binoculars, of all things. 

“You know Nikki?” Imani asked. 

“Ugh, of course I know Nikki.” Nikki was a cheerleader. Nikki had a slim little body with an ass that turned heads. Nikki had fucked almost half of all the frats on campus. Ashley usually wasn't in the business of slutshaming but when you made it a point to brag about sleeping with other girls’ men in their faces like it was a prize, she was more than okay laughing at the jokes made about you. 

“Well, her room this year is across the courtyard, a couple floors down. We think it’s a single and her bed is right next to the window.” Imani held out the binoculars to Ashley, who had to smack away some girl’s hand so she could take it. “And it looks like she's got Tre in there right now.”

“Tre? Trevante Tre?” Ashley hurriedly looked through the binoculars and couldn't help the gasp she let out. 

Tre was the captain of the school’s football team, the quarterback, in a prominent frat, and by far, the finest nigga at Laurent U -- and it looked like he was tearing Nikki apart. 

She was on her knees with him behind her, face mushed into the mattress as he went to town on her. His dark body was muscly and glistening, sweat dripping down his body. The way his hips were pistoning into her, the way his hands gripped her hips, one of them rising up to smack her ass once, twice - it was far too much. His pearly white teeth bit down on his bottom lip before he slowed himself down, drawing himself almost completely out of her and then ramming himself back in. The gold chain around his neck glimmered in the light. The other girls made various noises of approval and Ashley hadn't realized it but she did too. 

“He's way too fuckin’ good at this. He just had practice like, two hours ago! How does he have the damn strength?” Serena stood on the other side of Ashley, fully leaning on the window glass. 

“He's a goddamn superhero, sis. He ain't letting up either, she’s barely hanging on.” Imani replied. 

She wasn't wrong. From what Ashley could see, Nikki was gripping the sheets like she was holding on for dear life and if she'd had any arch in her back before, it was gone now. She went to place her hand on his lower stomach but he caught her wrist and lifted her upper body so his chest was pressed to her back. He said something to her as he rolled his hips up, holding her in that position for a minute as she nodded. Then he let her fall forward, pulling out of her but only long enough for him to flip her onto her back and reinsert himself. He placed both her feet onto his shoulders as he turned them on her daybed so he was standing beside it, now facing the window. 

“Oop, he switched positions. Gimme my shit back!” Imani snatched the binoculars back from Ashley, who just sucked her teeth. 

“Y'all are so nasty. This is such an invasion of privacy.” She shook her head, the black curly tendrils from her simple high ponytail bouncing around on top of her slick hair. She crossed her arms over her chest, still not taking her eyes off the window. 

“Stop watching it then.” Serena pursed her lips. 

There was a beat. 

“I ain’t say all that now.” The other girls chuckled at that. For a couple minutes, they all stood at the window, heads slightly tilted, mouths a bit ajar, as they watched Tre drive himself into Nikki over and over again. There was almost complete silence in the room. Ashley pressed her thighs together slightly, the denim from her jeans rubbing against her cotton thong. It was entrancing. 

Tre seemed to finally finish (“he was going for at least thirty minutes” said Serena) and he pulled out of her, taking off the full condom and throwing it into a trashcan. He grabbed a couple of wet wipes from Nikki’s dresser and helped wipe her down (“what a true southern gentleman” said Imani). Nikki was seemingly in a state of bliss, just smiling up at the ceiling. Just as he was finishing sliding his grey sweatpants up over his boxer briefs, he looked up and out the window, directly at theirs. 

All of the girls shrieked and ducked, including Ashley who hid right underneath the windowsill next to a cackling Imani. Some of the girls ran out of the room. 

“This ain't funny, Mani! We look like perverts!” Ashley scolded her. 

“We are! But that nigga was putting on a whole show. A performance, if you will. Matter of fact ...” She grabbed a nearby notebook and Sharpie, quickly writing down 10/10 on it. She pressed it against the window while still laughing her ass off. 

“You are too damn much. I'm leaving!” Ashley couldn't help but laugh too, along with Serena, as she duck-walked out of the room, still afraid of Tre seeing her. “Goodnight, ya nasties!”

Quickly, Ashley walked over to the laundry room, gathered all her now dry clothes into the hamper, grabbed her keys out of Imani & Serena’s room, and rolled her hamper into the elevator. Once she got onto the main floor, she headed out onto the courtyard and checked her phone. It was nearing 9:45. 

Damn, he had been going for a while. She thought to herself as she walked towards the parking lot. 

She hadn't even noticed the figure sitting on the bench to her right until he spoke. 

“Enjoy the show?”

She nearly jumped out her slides at the sound of his voice, turning her head only to come face to face with the man himself, Tre. 

“I - I - I -” She stuttered and looked up at him, seemingly losing the ability to speak. He stepped towards her, the smell of sweat mixed with deodorant and some bomb ass cologne invading her senses. 

“Front row seat, huh?” He had the nerve to have a little smirk on his face as he said it. He looked down at her, eyes raking over her tank top and blue jeans, an otherwise normal outfit for the middle of September in the Louisiana heat. Yet, a shiver ran through her spine, despite the humidity in the air. She cursed her decision to go without a bra as she could feel her nipples hardening. He hadn't so much as looked her over and here Ashley was, nearly standing in a puddle. “Imagine my surprise when I finish with ol’ girl, I look up and the cute shorty from my econ class is staring dead at me. Had a nigga gassed.”

He licked his lips and circled around her, stopping behind her, leaning down to whisper in her ear, “Next time, if you wanna be the star, come and find me. I got you, baby.”

His Louisiana accent shone through on that last part and it nearly had Ashley weak in the knees. He walked away, toward the parking lot, leaving a very turned on Ashley standing in that courtyard with her little hamper and a whole lot of dirty thoughts. 

Ashley’s tiny little studio apartment was starting to sound like a barbershop. 

It had been three days since The Perving™️ ( mani had named it that) and Ashley hadn't been able to stop thinking about Tre since. Between the memories of him naked and their little conversation afterwards, she had plenty of ideas that kept her little vibrator going. She'd already had to change out the batteries and it was during said change that she realized, maybe this shit was getting ridiculous. 

As the weekend came to an end and Ashley was forced to leave her dorm on Sunday night to return to the girls’ room, she recounted the story to both of her best friends. 

“Wait wait wait - he said this to you and you didn't IMMEDIATELY jump that nigga’s bones? Are you dumb?” Imani exclaimed, sitting up in her twin sized bed. Serena pushed Ashley’s head in disbelief. 

“Ow! No, I didn't! I was shocked, I just kinda stood there and didn't say nothing. I'm pretty sure I lost all ability to speak.” Ashley played with the fringes of her shorts to avoid looking at Imani, who was staring her down in complete disappointment. 

“You gotta fuck him. Do it for us, in our honor. We gotta know if Nikki was just over exaggerating or if that man truly is that talented.” Serena spoke up from her bed.

“Yeah, that'll happen. Keep dreaming y'all.” And that was the end of that, as far as Ashley was concerned. She had decided that she was just going to keep to herself, mind her business, and keep it pushing. Tre was a nonfactor in her life, just another part of her spank bank. He hadn't mattered before, he wasn't gonna matter now. 

Still, when Tuesday came around and the reminder that she had their shared econ class that afternoon at one dawned on her, Ashley may have decided to put a little extra effort into her appearance. She swore, to herself, that the Fenty body lava she was applying was so she could take cute pictures later. That the neon pink bodycon tank dress paired with the long white cardigan she fished out from the back of her closet were simply cute clothes and not because they accentuated her skin tone like nothing else. It also definitely wasn't because she'd spent the last six months in the gym doing squats so she knew she looked good as hell in the damn outfit. It wasn't none of that. The girl was simply going to econ, like she had already for weeks and like she would until the end of the semester. 

After properly doing her hair and applying minimal makeup, Ashley was slipping on her white slip on Vans and throwing her big ass snakeskin purse onto her shoulder. She drove the five minutes back to campus where she bought herself an iced tea from the cafe & quickly headed over to the class, taking her regular seat in the back left hand corner. 

She was fifteen minutes early but that was good. That meant she wouldn't have to run into him and could instead keep a watchful eye for the six foot two masterpiece as he walked in. She was sitting there, one AirPod in, sipping her tea when the sound of raucous laughter from the hallway seeped into the room and she knew he had arrived. He seemed to go everywhere with an entourage - a side effect of being that well known, Ash supposed. 

Turning to face forward so she wouldn't appear like she had been door watching, she quickly inserted the other AirPod and turned up the volume on her Megan the Stallion while flipping through her textbook. The act seemed to work for a minute or two before two thick ass arms caged her in from behind. She removed her headphones. 

“Excuse me, can I help you?” Ash turned her head to look up at him and immediately, the smell of his cologne invaded her senses. It was the same smell from the other night except now even stronger, though she couldn’t decide if it was better or worse when mixed with sweat. What a freak ass thought.

“I was wondering if you was gonna show up today - was tryna see if you got scared.” His voice was low in her ear and when she turned more, they were face to face, noses practically touching. 

“And what was I supposed to be scared of, exactly?” 

“I think I got an idea of what you might be scared of.” He answered with a smirk and then a lick of his lips. Jesus, be a fence. 

Still, Ashley played it cool, rolling her eyes. “I ain’t scared of you or what you got in ya pants, sir. Don't you have to find your seat?”

“Oh but I already got one?” At her raised eyebrow, his mouth broke out into a full on grin, white teeth and all. “If you wanna lift up, I can slide on under you and we can get this class crackin’.”

Ashley couldn’t help the laugh she let out and he chuckled with her. She turned back, waving her hand at him. “Boy, good-bye. Get to your seat Trevante.”

There was a beat then regrettably his arms lifted from around her and his smell already started to fade away. “Aight, I'll get to my seat.” With that, he slid from behind her chair and situated himself to the right of her. 

Ashley had picked this spot because while there were nearly fifty people in the class, it was a huge lecture hall and most everyone was seated in the middle or right sections. Up here in her corner, she was all alone, with no one behind her. The people in front of her were several rows down. It had been just her while Tre typically sat in the middle sections, front & center. They were far too alone up here. This was not good. 

Class had started and Tre hadn't moved and Ashley was sure she was gonna die. He had gotten very comfortable, leaning back in his chair, worksheets out and his textbook open in front of him as the professor droned on & on. It was boring as hell, as per usual, but Ashley was so hyper aware of Tre’s presence that she couldn't focus on anything else. She hadn't even looked at him since he sat down next to her. 

She could see him moving out the corner of her eye, leaning forward onto the desk with his left arm. He whispered low enough for only her to hear. 

“You look like somebody finna bust down them doors and hurt you, shawty. You needa calm down. Relax.” Slowly, Ash felt his big ass hand slide up her calf and over her knee, stopping right at the end of her thigh, millimeters away from where her dress ended. 

He was sitting up straighter now and she was holding her breath, unable to speak. To anyone else, they looked like two students patiently listening to their professor but one look at the way Ashley was gripping her pen and you could tell something was amiss. 

It was only when he slid his chair closer to hers and his fingers slipped under the material of her dress that she moved. Her hand clamped down his thick ass forearms, freezing his fingers where they were - right on her inner thigh. 

“What the fuck do you think you doing?” She gritted out, her teeth clenched together. 

He waited until she made direct eye contact with him and then whispered. “Making you relax.”

Her grip loosened out of shock and his fingers continued on their path, the heat coming from between her thighs seeming to call to him. She bit her lip in anticipation before jumping a little when his middle finger swiped gently over her pussy through the material covering it. 

“Is that lace? Hm, I bet that shit looks amazing on you. What color is it?” He whispered, letting his finger continue to stroke over her mound. “Hm? Can you even remember right now?”

“Green. It's green.” Ashley managed to breathe out. 

“I like green. Almost as much as I like pink on you.” Now, his index finger had joined his middle in the stroking and Ashley could feel the material of her panties getting wetter by the second, so she knew he could too. “You like this huh? You got these big innocent eyes and got everyone fooled into thinking you're some little angel but clearly, you a little freak like me. Look at you, wet already and I ain't even get to the good part.”

Ashley closed her eyes for a second, still lightly gripping his forearm before she reopened them to look him directly in his again. “So get to the good part.”

His jaw clenched and they continued their eye contact for a second before Ashley looked back at the professor. “Aight then, but you asked for this, remember that.”

First, his thumb rubbed her clit through the material, causing Ashley's thighs to clench together for a second before Tre pushed them apart again. She felt his two fingers from before push the lace to the side and make direct contact with her lips, running over the slick that now covered it. They were thick as hell so when he finally dipped his fingers in past the lips, it felt like she was already filled up to the max. 

Her mouth opened in a near perfect O and Tre kept his eyes on her lips as he slowly pumped in & out of her. She closed her mouth after a second but the grip on his arm tightened. That seemed to only encourage him forward, fingers picking up pace as his thumb now rubbed that little bundle of nerves that sat tight at the top. When he curled his fingers inside her, Ashley could feel her stomach coil. Her gaze was still on the professor, who was giving his closing remarks. 

“Oh, you finna cum huh? You gonna cum all over my fingers, right here in the middle of class?” Tre picked up the pace of his fingers, now driving into her at an almost brutally slow but deliberate pace, watching her bite down on her lip so hard he was sure she was going to draw blood. 

She nodded meekly and held back a whimper, nails digging into his arm while she clenched her thighs together as much as they could go with his hand between them. He watched her close her eyes and twitch once, twice, three times, her walls gripping his fingers in a vice. Now all he could imagine was her pussy doing that to his dick and he didn't think it was possible, but his shit got harder. 

Her nipples were hard, her legs were shaking slightly, her pupils dilated - if this was how she reacted to just his fingers, he couldn't wait to see her after a good three or four rounds with Junior. 

While she was still catching her breath and the class was starting to pack up their things, he slipped his finger out from in her, sliding her panties back into place. She quickly gathered her materials into her purse before they both stood up, chest to chest, hers still heaving slightly. He looked down at her with a smirk as he sucked his index finger into his mouth. 

“Just like a good cobbler.” He went to do the same to his middle finger but she grabbed his wrist before he could and sucked the finger herself, letting her tongue roll over the top of the finger before she let it go with a pop & a smirk. 

“See you Thursday.”

She wasn't going to see him on Thursday, Ashley remembered as she ate dinner while watching TV in her apartment. Tre was the quarterback and as the quarterback, he had to lead his team to a win against their rival, across the state that same week. The only way she was gonna see Tre that weekend was if she joined the rest of the school to watch the game live on Friday night. 

Which she did. 

Imani and Serena had dragged her down to the local bar where they were airing the game & had a five dollar deal for 15 wings. A two for one deal as far as Ashley was concerned. She opted to not tell the girls about what happened in class, instead wanting to keep it to herself for just a little bit longer. Not forever, just until she could figure out what the fuck she was even doing with this nigga. 

Come Saturday morning, all Ashley could think about was going out that night and getting drunk. Drunk her always managed to figure shit out for sober her anyway. 

There were three frats on campus but Rho Nu Tau always put on the best parties, even more so now that they had the three star players on the football team as official brothers. Ashley’s first real college party way back during her freshman year had been a Rho party and she remembers a tiny pledge named Tre running around being an errand boy as a part of his initiation. Clearly, he wasn't taking orders no more. 

Imani and Serena were standing beside Ashley in the backyard as they shared a blunt with two boys she recognized from the dorms, damn near freezing their asses off in their little FashionNova fits when there was a cheer from inside the house. Ash almost went to check out what was going on when the blunt was passed to her and she was heartily distracted. 

It took only a couple more minutes for her to get tired of shivering and walk back into the kitchen, eyes low & mink lashes fluttering. A vodka and pink lemonade was calling her name. After fixing herself the drink, she began to wade through the crowd before bumping shoulders with a familiar face.

“Ashley, you always bumping into me, damn!”

She looked up to see her bio lab partner, Alex, smiling down at her. He was cute, in a nerdy type of way, and totally not her type but he always made her laugh in class. She let her lips spread into a small grin before play shoving him back.

“I know you not talking, clown. What’re you even doing here, I thought you’d be locked in your room binge watching some new anime or something?”

“Oh, you got jokes? Nah, Rho’s game celebration parties always be the best ones, you know that.”

They stood talking to one another for a couple more seconds before You by Lola Brooke & Bryson Tiller started playing overhead. Ashley started bopping her head on beat and Alex raised his eyebrow at her, smiling all wide & shit. She rolled her eyes, finishing off her drink and pulling him further onto the makeshift dance floor where all the bodies were grinding against one another. She turned around, pressing her ass right up against his crotch and began moving her hips and her ass in accordance with the beat. Now, she wasn’t no expert but all those years of high school cheerleading and dancing in the mirror did have their payoffs.

Alex’s hands remained on her hips and as the song progressed, Ashley could feel eyes on her. She looked up at the top of the staircase where Tre was standing with two more of the team’s players, his eyes trained on her and Alex. His jaw was clenched tight from what she could see and the veins in his arms were bulging as he death gripped that railing. 

Now, Alex had always made it very clear that his type of woman was always more the Dua Lipa type than the Rihanna so Ashley knew he wasn’t interested in her like that but damn it if it didn’t amuse her a little to see Tre standing up there all jealous while she threw it back for another man. If anything, the sight of him reinvigorated her and suddenly, she was putting a lot more work into her dance with Alex. The song did come to an end, however, and JT Coming filtered through the speakers which meant that Imani would be in Ashley’s face within the second. 

Like clockwork, right on time for JT’s verse, Imani pushed through the crowd to get to Ashley as they screamed the lyrics in each other’s faces. Alex had disappeared at the beginning of the song but returned with a closed bottle of water for both himself and Ashley. Serena was not far behind and soon the four of them were dancing around one another with the music. It didn’t take long for Serena and Alex to start dancing together instead. As much fun as she was having, Ashley couldn’t help but let her thoughts drift off to Tre, who had vanished from his post at the top of the steps.

Role Model by Brent Faiyez was playing as Ashley looked around for a bathroom half an hour later, her high slowly wearing off and the two bottles of water plus her cups of alcohol finally getting to her. The bathroom downstairs had a line wrapped down the hallways but luckily for her, she knew that there were several upstairs. Unluckily, all the ones in the hallways were also sporting lines so that left her to seek out one of the en suites. Almost every one of the doors were locked except for the one at the far end of the hall. She’d never been this far into the house before but she need to pee so she said fuck it and pushed open the door. 

The bathroom was on the other side of the darkened room, lit up only by the moonlight filtering in through the windows. She rushed over, locked the door behind her, and took care of her business. As she was washing her hands, Ash looked over her hair and makeup, surprised to see both in pretty good condition considering she was sweating like a whore in church. She figured at the very least, she’d be dealing with excessive frizz or her eyelashes falling off but she was all set. Ain’t God good?

Stepping out of the bathroom and into the bedroom, she took in where she was. There was a little desk to her left and a bookshelf to her right. Looking at the shelves, she noticed trophies, ribbons, medals, certificates - all the clear signs of a winner. There was a picture of a beautiful woman holding a precious little black boy and then another of a family standing with a tall young man wearing a football helmet. Her eyes focused, however, on the number six on his jersey and then subsequently, the sign the woman was holding: “Congrats Trevante!” She gasped and stepped away from the shelf, accidentally falling backwards onto the queen sized bed just as the door opened and in came Trevante himself.

It was awkward for a moment, but he quickly let a smirk take over his features as he closed the door behind him and crossed his arms over his chest to look down at her. From this angle, staring up at him, she was almost face to face with his crotch. She had to refrain from biting her lip. 

“Now, how’d you manage to find my room of all the rooms in the house?” He licked his lips, unmoving from the position and ever so slightly thrusting his hips forward. 

“Completely by accident, don’t get too excited.” She answered, sitting up and twisting her body to face his. “I was looking for the bathroom.”

“There are three public bathrooms in the house.”

“With lines damn near going out the door. I figured one of the big guys would have an en suite and I was right.”

“Oh so I’m a big guy now?”

Yes sir, you definitely are. “You know what I meant.”

“Well, why didn’t you ask that nigga you were dancing with if he had a bathroom at his place? It seemed like y’all were having a good time.” His smirk dropped and he crossed over to the desk, sitting on the spinning chair. Ashley's head tilted and she let out a small laugh.

“Is Trevante jealous? Oh my my!” He rolled his eyes as she got up from the bed, dancing over to him while singing “Tre’s jealous! He’s jealous! Very jealous!”

He stood back up and they were suddenly chest to chest, abruptly putting an end to her singing. His large fingers gripped her wrist tightly, and she looked up at his beautiful face. She was physically closer to him at this moment than ever before, even in the courtyard and in the classroom. 

“Why would I be jealous? That nigga can’t make you cum like I did, in a public place, with two fingers. He ain't the one you think about when you in bed late at night, right? That’s me, all in your dreams, in your head - that’s Tre right?”

For a second, she lost her breath but she could see that smirk creeping back onto his lips and a part of her snapped.

“What about you Tre? You been thinking about me?” She trailed her hand down his pants to the waistband of his jeans, letting her fingers play with the button for a second. “When you in this bed at night, playing with this big dick of yours -” her fingers wrapped around his growing bulge through the denim and she heard his breath hitch. “- are you thinking about this pussy? How tight it was? How wet it was? Thinking about how many rounds you’d last with me?”

He didn’t answer, instead wrapping one large hand around her throat and letting it slide around to the back of her neck, pulling her face to his in a fierce kiss that took her breath away. She let out a sigh, one hand still on his dick and the other on his neck. Their tongues fought for dominance for a minute before Tre bent down to pick her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and easing them both onto the bed. His lips made their way from her lips to her throat, her legs tightening around him as he hit her sweet spot at the part where her ears met her neck.

His hands were moving at a pace so slow, Ash almost screamed. He was ghosting over her tits, fingers almost brushing against her nipples but not quite yet. It wasn’t until he pulled the neckline of the shirt down to reveal her pretty blue bra did he finally pinch her nipples through the material. Her hips bucked up at that and she could feel him smirk against her throat before he sat up a little to help her pull off the shirt. He pulled the cups down and immediately dove in, pulling one of the hard buds into his mouth as she let out a groan of pleasure. He knew exactly what he was doing, his finger expertly twisting the other one.

“You’re way too good at this.” She managed to get out and he chuckled, letting her go with a pop. 

“I’m good at a lot of things.” He bit his lips, kissing down her bare skin as he unbuttoned her jeans. “Wanna see what else I’m good at?”

If she wasn’t wet already, she was sure that the combo of how he was looking up at her along with those words would’ve flooded her panties anyways. He pulled her pants down and off, throwing them on to the floor before sliding a finger over the material covering her pussy. She held back a whimper, which proved to be even harder when he gently pushed it to the side and blew on her weeping slit. 

Her matching blue thong was the next thing to come off and he looked up at her with a smile, pushing her legs up so they were bent. “Hold onto the back of your knees for me, sweetheart, and don’t let go. If you let go, I’mma stop. We clear?”

She couldn’t formulate words at that moment so he would have to do with her following his instructions and nodding her head yes, letting out a little ‘mhm’ through bitten lips.

“That’s a good girl. You a good girl right?” She jumped as he lightly smacked her clit, almost letting go of her legs but not quite yet. “Answer me, Ashley.”

“Yes, I’m a good girl.” She managed to grit out.

“Good girls get rewarded, don’t they?” He didn’t wait for an answer, instead diving straight into to put his oh so talented mouth on her pussy. She was biting her lip again, holding back the moans trying to claw their way out. He paused for a moment, spreading her lips with his fingers as he did so. “Uh-uh. I wanna hear you. Let that shit out shawty.”

He went right back to it, thrusting his tongue in & out of her with a force. She could feel one of his thick fingers playing with her clit and she was sure she was letting out noises but honestly, the whole thing was starting to feel like an out of body experience. Her hands gripped the backs of her thighs even tighter as her back arched up. His tongue replaced his finger on her clit and then he inserted that finger into her pussy, followed by a second one. The two together were driving her insane and causing small sweat beads to formulate on her stomach and chest.

“Oh fuck, Tre, I’m gonna cum, oh fuck fuck fuck!” Her moans were breathy, her legs beginning to shake in her hands as she could feel the coil start in her stomach. He nodded his head as he sucked her clit into his mouth and picked up the pace of his fingers. When his fingers curled upwards into her, tapping the roof of her pussy, she dropped her legs on his shoulders and let out a small scream, cumming right into his mouth. He didn’t stop as she was cumming, lapping her up like some whipped cream. He finally pulled away a couple seconds after she finished, sliding back up her body to give a wet kiss on the lips, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

Ash ran her fingers over his defined abs, popping open the button on his jeans and pushing the pants down with her feet. He was practically bursting out of his briefs at that point but she made quick work of those too. 

“Condom, condom - get a condom Tre.” She managed to squeak out in between kisses and he pulled away, looking at her for a moment. “What?”

It took him a second but he shook his head. “Nothing. I got you.” He pulled open the bedside drawer, pulling out a Magnum from an already open box. “I’mma finish this box with you, trust me.”

“It’d be my pleasure.” She smirked, biting her bottom lip as he tore open the wrapper with his teeth. “Here, let me.”

Tre closed his eyes as she stroked his member, using the precum at the tip to lubricate the nine inches of him she could. Her hand tightened a bit at the base before sliding back up to slip the condom over him. She was still stroking him as she led him toward her opening, spreading her legs wider for him.

Now, Ash had had sex with a total of two people in her life but neither of them had ever been as big as Tre. Just the tip of him was enough for her to let her mouth open into a perfect ‘O’. She wasn't even sure he could fit all of himself in there but Lord knows, he was gonna give it the good ol’ college try. She moaned as he pushed through, pleasure ripping through every part of her, and kept going until he was fully inside of her. 

“Please fuckin’ move, Tre.” She whimpered. 

“Gimme a fuckin’ minute, sweetheart. If I move right now, I ain't gonna give you that show you wanted.” His lips connected with hers and then his hips began to thrust into her, rolling. She sighed into the kiss and tried to meet him thrust for thrust. He pulled his head away to bury into her neck. “Fuck, you feel good girl. You been hidin’ this shit from me?”

She wanted to respond smartly but her brain wasn’t formulating cohesive thoughts at the moment. Instead, she dragged her nails down his glistening back and moaned out his name like a chant - “Tre, Tre, Tres, yesssss.”

“S’tight, oh my fucking -” His own thoughts were jumbled as he drove in to her, winding his hips, trying to prolong the moment. He knew that, with the way shit was going, he was gonna have to make her cum at least once more and fast or else he was gonna ruin his own reputation and leave her hanging.

“Right there, yes!” Ashley exclaimed as his thick finger came down to rub her clit again, which paired with the motions of his hips extremely well. Her hands had slid down to his side as he lifted himself up on his arms and she let her nails dig into his skin, creating little marks there he’d probably get whistles about in the locker room tomorrow. “You’re so good, Tre, yes, yes, yes!” 

Her last yes came out as a squeal as he picked up his pace, rubbing faster and thrusting without abandon. She could feel that coil in her stomach again, moaning over and over again. Tre felt her tighten around him and let her ride out her second orgasm of the night before his hips began to stutter. He groaned out his release, nearly collapsing on top of her.

“Gahdamn!” He exclaimed, which made her laugh. She whined a bit as he pulled out of her, taking the condom off and climbing out of the bed to walk into the bathroom. He returned moments later, prompting her to rush in after him to clean herself up. When she came back, he’d pulled back the covers and was laying beneath them. She looked at him for a minute with her head tilted. “What?”

“I don’t know, I was expecting for you to make a run for it like ...” Ashley trailed off but he caught her drift. 

“Like with Nikki? Well first of all, this is my room this time so not really any option.” He laughed when she scoffed and held up the blanket, patting the spot next to him. She hurried to get under the covers, still naked like he was. “I also kinda wanna keep you around ... to finish off the box, of course.”

“Of course.” She smirked, tucking into his side. 

“So?” He inquired. She raised her eyebrow. “Was it as good as it looked from across the courtyard?”

“Hmm ... I think I might need a couple more encores to truly decide.” She tapped her chin like she was deliberating and he rolled his eyes.

“Oh, I’ll show you an encore.” Ashley let out a small shriek that quickly turned into a moan as he rolled her on top of him and began to kiss down her neck, dragging his thick fingers down her body to get her ready all over again.

[startheskelaton]

I'm not sure if you know this but Optimus and Megatron had moms in the Transformers IDW 2019 comic run. Optimus had Codexa, and Megatron had Termagax. If you wish to learn more about them use go to their tfwikis.

I can’t help but to ask, did they exist in the One Spark AU, if so how did they affect Optimus and Megatron, and are they still alive.

They probably do exist but are kinda different.

Both would be miner bots that were assigned sparkings to raise. And both probably would have met some kind of tragic end that would shape Orion and Dee into who they would eventually become.

Codexa was rather cold but still caring, instilling a strong sense of selflessness into Orion. All or nothing was the code she lived her life by, save anyone you can, and if you can’t? Try harder. I image she died in a cave collapse when Orion was still young. A heroic sacrifice as she shaved other in the process, but also made it clear to Orion that he needed to get everyone out of the mines. It didn’t matter what it took or what he gave up in the process, it was his duty to protect those who couldn’t protect themselves.

Termagax was a bit more warm I feel, instilling a strong sense of self worth and confidence into a young D-16. “No one is coming to save you, so you have to save yourself” was what they lived by. He was killed during a riot between miners and the officers that kept them in line, this instilled a sense of resentment in Dee. The world is cruel and it will eat you up the first chance it gets, if he wanted to be safe, he needed to find out how to control the world.

There is more to Orion and Dee’s childhoods in the mines but that’s all for now

[paracosmic-murdock]

vigilante like me

chapter six: the skeletons in both our closets plotted hard to fuck this up

pairing: matt murdock x black widow!vigilante!reader

summary: nights and nights of playing the hero as if that could redeem you that easily ended up taking you to new york, where you accidentally met the man who would turn your world upside down. a vigilante like you.

warnings/tags: (this chapter contains smut, shower sex virginity loss, unprotected sex, minors dni) angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, violence, phd in applied flirting and ma in yearning studies, some smut (minors dni), takes place sometime during the blip, when born again comes out we might find out if my decisions of who were gone were right, spoilers/references of stuff and themes from daredevil (2015); avengers: infinity war (2018); avengers: endgame (2019) black widow (2021); and hawkeye (2021), but y'all must've watched all of those already so idc, yelena belova and the themes and events from the black widow (2021) movie are very relevant in this plot, song: cowboy like me (taylor swift)

word count: 3.3K

✰ chapter one | chapter two | chapter three | chapter four | chapter five | chapter seven | chapter eight | chapter nine

✰ mila's anthology (main masterlist)

He left the kit on his bed and went back to you, helping you stand up and walking you to his bathroom.

“May I?”

“You don't have to do that.”

Matt chuckled. “You did this for me once, and I was in kind of a better shape than you are now. Just… allow me.”

“Okay,” you agreed, knowing he was right and that you needed to be clean so he you could patch you up and avoid infections. You were too injured and bloody and couldn't risk it. “I liked these jeans.”

“Yeah, maybe they can be ripped jeans now,” he proposed, an optimistic grin plastered on his face.

“I've learned a thing or two about fashion trends, and let me tell you: apparently, ripped jeans are completely hideous today.”

“I guess you're a well-dressed lady.”

You laughed. “When it matters, yes I am.”

“Were you well dressed today?” he asked, taking off your black sports sneakers.

“Not really,” you replied. “Nothing important going on.”

“Hey,” he called you. “I am sorry about what I said last night.”

You gave him half a smile, putting your hand on his chest. “Are you?”

“I am sorry.”

“I'm sorry too,” you apologized, surprising yourself. “I just… I've learned who you are, and I know you aren't one to give up. You were there tonight, Matt. This is something that can happen countless times because I've done pretty fucked up things. Whether I was in control of my actions or not, I did it and I can't ignore that. I don't want my shit to affect you or for me to be… measured the same way that you are.”

“It's okay, I get it,” Matt helped you take off your oversized white, blood stained t-shirt. “We both have skeletons in our closets.”

You smiled weakly, now taking off your jeans with difficulty. “I guess so.”

Then, there was silence.

Matt guided you to his shower and turned it on. The water was hot, almost too hot, so, while you waited until the temperature was just right to get under the stream, he took his clothes off too. Now, you were both in your underwear and the idea of him and you like that made your cheeks go warm.

Just like you did to him the other day, Matt washed your hair with care. It was so intimate you wanted to throw up, and he seemed to realize how the moment was affecting you but said nothing.

“Govnyuk,” you muttered when his hands touched a wound above your right breast. “It hurt.”

“Sorry,” Matt whispered. “This one is pretty bad.”

“That makes me feel better.”

He shook his head, taking your right hand in his and put it on the left side of his chest. “I have the same one. Credits to a ninja named Nobu. It was really bad, I think it makes it to the top five of my worst moments.”

You traced the shape of it with the tip of your finger and did the same with a similar one on the other side.

Matt turned around. “He did those, too.”

“They're awful,” you noted. He laughed, turning to you again.

You took his left hand and drove it to your upper right thigh. “There was a tracker here to keep me on sight. When Yelena, my friend and another Black Widow, freed me, I stabbed myself to take it out.”

“Contrary to what you might think, I can't dodge every bullet,” he explained when he drove your hand to his right bicep.

“I was in Novi Grad when Yelena found me,” you said as you put his hand on your right lower back. “I had a partner, Emilia. Our job was to make sure the big guys never forgot they were under the rules of Dreykov, the director of the Red Room. Emilia died during the infamous Battle of Sokovia; a robot shot her to death and shot me here,” you continued, then made his thumb meet the little scar on the side of your index finger. “You know, Wanda Maximoff, the Avenger, had a twin brother, Pietro. Nobody knows him or what he did, but I do. He spent three seconds taking me to a safer location, then told me he was free on Saturday for a dinner date I now owed him for saving me,” You laughed a little. “Hours later, I found out he took dozens of bullets to save Clint Barton and a little boy. Don't tell him, but I teared up a little when I found out that the guy who used to flirt with me in the market twice a week was dead. I got this one when I was peeling a plum there because I got distracted telling him that he looked ridiculous with his hair bleached. He didn't.”

“I don't even remember how I got this one,” He chuckled, showing you one on his left side. “Just another beating one night.”

“Knife training in the Red Room,” you said, showing him various scars on your abdomen, thighs, and back. “We gave each other a bunch of these when we were practicing. Or some other times, when we were forced to fight each other until there was only one left standing. I was always that one; that's why I am alive today.”

“A building fell on me,” he added as if it was nothing while showing you other scars throughout his torso and a few on his thigh. “Some guys and I were trying to defeat The Hand, an evil-”

“Oh, that was you?” You smiled, almost proudly. “Congrats on defeating them, Dreykov considered them the competition.”

“Thank you, it wasn't easy, but it's done.” he smirked, and just then you noticed how close you were.

“Here,” You cleared your throat. You rested his hand on your left breast, making unnecessary contact with most of it as the scar was almost on the valley between them. “I got in a lot of trouble in Madripoor. In Moscow,” you continued, driving his other hand to your hip, right on your underwear. “Even New Asgard, as peaceful as it seems. I used to be a mess after Yelena disappeared along with half of us.”

Matt caressed your skin as you spoke, causing goosebumps all over your body. Your brain couldn't comprehend how you were truly feeling; all you knew is that you didn't want it to end. Neither did him, as seconds later his hands went to your neck to lift your face softly. He got closer in what felt like an eternity, and finally, Matt closed the almost non-existent gap between your lips.

Your first kiss, actually.

With all that happened to you, you never considered dating or meeting anybody. You thought you weren't reluctant to the idea, but caught yourself rejecting every person that asked you out. Therefore, you have never had real dates, kissed anybody, and much less had sex.

Being in the shower with the first man that ever ignited something in you, ironically both anger and attraction, made you want it. Crave it, even.

You moaned his name when he broke the kiss and drove his lips to your neck.

“Is this okay?”

With your breath all heavy and your heart losing a race to a lioness, you nodded. “Yes. Please.”

Matt kept kissing your neck, even going lower, careful not to get close to your open wounds. His touch muted all the pain, all long forgotten, as he moaned between each little bite. “Can I take this off?”

You hummed, letting him get rid of your soaked white and bloody sports bra.

He moaned your name. “I'll take care of you.”

“Call me it,” you told him, just like an order.

“Call you what?”

“You know,” You gripped his hair. “Sweetheart.”

“Oh, sweetheart?” Matt smirked. While you couldn't see him, you felt on the skin of your breasts the shape of his lips changing. “You're driving me insane, sweetheart.”

The sole sound of that term went from offending you to making your underwear wet with more than water.

“Oh, God,” he groaned, desperate, as your scent filled his nostrils suddenly. His lips left your nipples and went south slowly, torturing himself with the lazy rhythm. “Fuck, sweetheart-”

On his way down, now on his knees, Matt's lips stumbled upon a scar right above the black lace panties he so desperately wanted to take off.

“This one-”

Matt hushed you and traced the silhouette of your scar with kisses. He ignored the origin of it, but didn't say a word. Whatever it is, he knows it's not one to take lightly. “It's okay.”

Your hands stayed in his hair, stroking it. His played with the hem of your panties. “Do it, Matt.”

He took them off in a hurry, like he was being hunted. Hunted by the despair of tasting you for once.

Now, your scent was stronger, more invasive. Matt felt himself go hard only by imagining how it would feel to eat you out. However, he began gently kissing your thighs and meeting the scars on your legs, tracing their shapes as he passed by them. Most of them were almost completely faint, which made him realize there must've been years since you first got them. Matt wondered how long you were in the Red Room and how old you were when they began to turn you into that version of yourself you wanted to erase but don't seem to be able to leave behind.

“Can I taste you?”

You frowned but nodded, trying your best not to give away the fact that you had no experience at all. Thankfully, Matt didn't seem to notice it, or at least not yet. Not when he was incredibly busy pushing you against the walls of his shower and putting your left leg on his shoulder to get a better access to you.

He was absolutely enraptured by you and had no idea how he hadn't devoured you just yet; something inside him was telling him this was a memorable moment. When will he ever get to taste you, the woman that's had him on a chokehold for numerous reasons, for the first time again? Dear God, Matt felt like he had never wanted anybody as much as he wanted you… every attempt to push him away or insult him only made him grow more attracted to you. It was like you had some sort of string tied to him and you, and each time you interacted it grew thicker but shorter. Matt could feel physically empty whenever your interactions concluded without resolving the tension of the string—which shrinks more by the second—, and it would leave a pain in his chest, one more agonizing than all of those that have left him on the verge of death altogether. Because you were killing him in a way no tangible death could ever compare.

You looked at him, seeing how his right hand caressed the skin of your thigh delicately. The tip of his fingers was so dedicated to cherishing you somehow, giving special attention to everything that would make you flawed to any other. Matt's lips kissed your inner thighs affectionately, making you wetter and hotter with every graze of his beard on your sensitive, heated complexion. His other hand was on your hip, but in the blink of an eye, the both went to your ass and groped it hard enough to leave behind residual pain in the shape of his fingers but not to the loss of intimacy. You wondered how he could make you feel that way, but your thoughts went blank when he pulled you closer to him and gave you a long, agonizing lick.

“Oh, my God!” you almost yelled, never imagining, not in a million years, that a human being could make another feel this good. He moaned at the taste of you, the sound producing small vibrations that enhanced the pleasure Matt was giving you.

His eyes went to yours while he licked and sucked your cunt that had never known such a feeling. Your eyes stayed locked on his, even when he wasn't seeing the erotic, blissed expression dancing on your face, the hunger and devotion were crystal clear on his, all for you to gaze at. Surely, you did. Knowing what you provoked in him made you even wetter, making Matt groan; it was all so sensual and indulgent that you fought the urge to ask if he would tell a priest about this in his next confession, or maybe if he enjoyed it enough to go to Hell for it without a single regret.

If Matt's sin of choice was wrath, yours might as well be lust. Now that you experienced it, you know you would never give it up; you don't really have a chance to go to Heaven nevertheless.

“Does that feel good, sweetheart?” he asked, voice smokier than usual.

“Yes, fuck,” You gripped his hair and pulled him closer to you. His cocky chuckle didn't make you wait, and, while normally it would drive you insane in a bad way, right now it was the sweetest thing on Earth, Heaven, and Hell. “Rodnoy, please.”

The sudden switch to Russian turned him on. He would be embarrassed by it if he didn't have you at his mercy right above him. “What was that, sweetheart?”

You couldn't utter a word as you felt how his middle finger joined his mouth in the quest of pleasuring you. First, it teased you as if he were making fun of you in the cruelest of ways. Then, he put in two of his fingers at once.

The feeling was strange: pain and ecstasy both, blending together and taking over your whole body. The pain seemed to be the outside effect, as with every thrust of his fingers the pain of your previous injuries awoke for a brief second. The inside effect was the ecstasy, which traveled through every inch of your body to the degree that you could feel the yearning boiling your blood, frying your brain, burning your heart. Now what you truly needed was a release for all of that, and you felt closer and closer to the edge.

Matt's other hand left your thigh, and your eyes followed its path with attention. It landed on the only piece of clothing left separating you from equality of conditions. You saw how he took it off and then his attention went back to you.

You couldn't decipher what the look in his eyes meant, he looked somehow urged and furious, and then left you unattended. You thought that maybe he didn't like it that you were inspecting his every movement. Curiosity killed the cat, as they say.

Though, seconds later, Matt stood up and searched for signs of consent. He found them in the heat of your body, completely unrelated to the stream of warm water falling from the shower head. He found them in the beat of your heart, fast enough to mock having twice as many. He found them in the new flow of arousal leaving you at the thought of you completely naked and ready to do something you were ignorant of, and the weight of intimidation at your belief of him wanting to punish you for witnessing something you shouldn't have.

But Matt kissed you, the softness and care of the beginning long forgotten as his lips captured yours, his teeth collided with your own, and his tongue craved to fill you. And sure he did.

“Matt, Matt,” you cried out his name, feeling him get inside you slowly. “God…”

They also say that the satisfaction brought the cat back.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Matt groaned, his voice almost inaudible. “You feel so good. You taste so good… Fuck.”

“Fuck me,” you ordered, knowing how much you needed it and that you could take it. “Fuck me. Show me how much you want me.”

He pressed his forehead against yours and held you by the hips, and then obeyed you as if you had a say in his life. “I've wanted you since the moment I met you.”

“Yeah?” You felt your wounds open slightly at the brusque thrusts of him, but didn't consider stopping him, not even for a second.

“Yes,” he confirmed. The fresh smell of blood hit him. “Are you okay?”

You hummed and nodded urgently. “I'm perfect. Don't stop.”

“I have to… pull out, sweetheart,” he notified you as he realized he was about to come.

“Don't do it,” you countered, taking his hand and driving it to the large scar on your lower abdomen. “It's okay.”

Matt understood right away.

“I want you to come for me,” he said, approaching your lips to kiss you. The hand that was on your scar traveled south and drew circles on your clit. You felt yourself about to pass out. Or pass away.

Either way, what a way to die, you thought as you came undone. You screamed his name along a series of oh, God's, and found yourself shaking and sweating.

His neighbors are sick of hearing it.

Matt thought they should get used to the sound of your voice, because he wasn't planning on letting you go, even if it cost him his life and sent him straight to Hell.

Then, he came too, moaning and panting like an exhausted animal.

“Wow,” you muttered. He pulled out of you. “That was-”

He smirked. “Yeah, it was.”

“Yeah. I think I'm gonna faint in a second, though.”

“Stay strong a little more, alright? Let me clean you up.”

You nodded, and he drove you under the shower again. Matt cleaned you, making you flinch as he touched the areas he had overstimulated a minute ago.

“Can I ask you something?”

“I might lie.” you joked.

“I'll know,” he replied, knowing damn well he couldn't.

“Okay, shoot.”

“Was this your first time?”

The smallest gasp left your mouth. “What? Why are you asking me that? How would you even know that?!”

“Hey, it's just a question!” He defended himself. “You bled a little, that's how I know.”

“Well, I'm not a virgin. You're delusional.”

Matt laughed, guiding you out of the shower and putting a towel on you.

You walked to his room and once you were both sitting on his bed, Matt opened the kit and took out the tools he would need.

“Can I take you out for dinner as soon as you're a hundred percent alright?”

“Make a wish,” you told him. “I'm about to agree to a date for the first time in my life. One with you.”

He stayed silent for a few seconds. “Can I tell you my wish?”

You hummed as he began stitching the wound above your breast. “Tell me.”

“I wish for you to be a hundred percent alright as soon as possible.”

“Cute,” you noted with a smirk.

The process of him patching you up was filled with small talk and flirting. You found it ridiculous to see yourself in that situation, but you wouldn't want it any other way, to be honest.

Once he finished, he gave you one of his t-shirts and helped you put it on.

Matt left and then went back with two phones in his hand. “Save your number.”

“Aw, you want my contact in your burner phone, rodnoy?”

“I want your contact in my burner phone, yes,” he confirmed with a smile. “And what does that mean?”

You did as he asked you. “It's Russian for sweetheart.”

Matt chuckled and cupped your face. “You're cute.”

“Oh, don't you dare tell anybody, Devil.”

“I won't.” And he kissed you softly.

When you pulled away, he made you lie down on his bed and covered you with his steel blue silk bed sheets.

“Fyodor was supposed to be my friend,” you said suddenly. Matt lied right beside you, holding you close. “But he drugged me and then left me at the mercy of a man who wanted to avenge the person who stood there forcing me to kill my friends when I was a little girl in the Red Room. That's what happened tonight.”

He felt like he had never been so consumed by wrath in his entire life.

[accio-victuuri]

Xiao Zhan Portrait Magazine Interview 📝

🎤: xiao zhan, we actually filmed a cover back then in 2019, and then in interview video, we also filmed a five year video. the last sentence in that video is what do you expect xiao zhan to look like in the next five years. five years have passed now, i want to know what kind of person xiao zhan has become.

XZ: just now, during the filming process they showed me an interview from five years ago and then when i saw the ending — i think it's amazing. at that time five years felt like a long time, at that time i thought i didn't know where i would be in five years, and then what i will become. now five years have passed in the blink of an eye, i feel like something has changed but it also feel like nothing has changed. it seems like everything has undergone an subtle changes but in reality it seems that nothing has changed. it's a wonderful feeling. i can't use words nor statements such as "change" and "unchanged" and then describe it.

🎤: in those five years there will be a lot of growth. i actually want to know what do you think is your biggest growth.

XZ: i feel calm and composed. i feel like i have became a little more self-reflective.

🎤: compared to oneself — what does this self refer to?

XZ: because i have always believed in the words "self" and "freedom" i think those are very neutral word. my former self words is that we will consider all aspects to visual. as i mentioned in my previous interview — i am very concerned about how other perceive me, i care a lot about others' opinions about me. but perhaps over the past five years we have walked slowly along the way so now i think it's more about asking oneself, and then based on one's own opinions

🎤: you will have a persistence, so to be honest whether it's five years or something else do you think you have something firm that it won't change from you?

XZ: of course there will be.

🎤: what is it?

XZ: i remember i said this before — i remember a friend of mine told me "you may not know what you want, but you must know what you don't want" i think this has never changed.

🎤: what do you not want?

XZ: there are many things i don't want.

🎤: can you share with me an example?

XZ: for example — something that is luxurious but uncomfortable, or something that i feel not suitable for me.

🎤: i see, because i actually meet you now there are also quite a few changes. one of them is starting to exercise now right

XZ: yes!

🎤: and over the five years i actually want to know if have there been any changes in the control of your own body or some changes perception of body?

XZ: actually i have been working out all along. for the past exercise i may have been more pursuit to be a little thinner so there are used to be a lot of aerobic work done before, but now it's actually more about stability, to be more calm, so more importantly i did some strength training.

🎤: i feel that sometimes the passage of time also means that we grow up or even get older, so sometimes you may suddenly realize that your control over your body or your own experiences are little different from before.

XZ: just like when i just watched the interview video from five years ago then in the middle of conversation i just saw myself in the mirror i feel like it's an improved version from the past then now. is it a widened version or narrowed version. i can't say for sure. i don't know where are the subtle changes have occurred — maybe it's about appearance, then it could be the body shape or it may be a state. in every aspect i feel the person in the mirror is a plus version of myself that i just saw in the video. then if we talk about mentality, i think there have been many changes.

🎤:what you say — maybe five years about the body you just mentioned. i want to know if you have had a moment of spiritual freedom in the past five years.

XZ: the most spiritual freedom moment?

🎤: yes, the most spiritual freedom moment.

XZ: actually i feel that i have been relatively free and relaxed for a period of time. it was during joining the filming crew. on the contrary when i was on the set. i don't think it's like a job but more like creating a work — creating a character, the process of creating a character so i am actually very invested.

🎤: so you may feel that speaking of a relative freedom it's when you completely immersed yourself in this character. is it to some extent of isolation from real life. let's said like that?

XZ: it can be said like that.

🎤: i actually remember the reason why you referred to five years as it back then it's because from an ordinary person no matter what or rather entering the entertainment industry as a non actor and then during 2015 and now 5 years have passed. you have actually been in the entertainment industry for 10 years. will there be any changes in the perception of the entertainment industry.

XZ: woah it's been 10 years?

🎤: we can have a 5 years term of 15 days which is 10 years.

XZ: what changes have occurred? — i don't think there has been any change. there hasn't been any change. i think it's relatively achievable, their scope is relatively simple…yes relative simple.

🎤: do you remember the last time i asked you a question? if you are not an actor what would you do. do you remember your answer?

XZ: it's to open a bakery.

🎤: yes. be a baker. i also want to ask this question now. if one day you don't work as an actor anymore what could be your next career? or what do you want to do?

XZ: perhaps…there will still be to opening a bakery. although there may be many practical problems encountered but i still really want to (open a bakery) because i think it's a very happy thing.

🎤: and if we talk about now. does 33 years old xiao zhan have something special? for example the so-called moment of collapse? or it could be a regretful breakdown of the realm.

XZ: i think it might be when acting there are really…i don't think it can be considered a breakdown but i think it's the hurdle. you may not be able to step over but you and i will try every possible way.

🎤: you want to do it better.

XZ: yes, when encountering some obstacles during acting it may make me feel a bit overwhelmed at the moment like — "why can't i do it…" when that hurdle remained insurmountable, it's something that makes me feel a little overwhelmed.

🎤: is there a so-called moment of compromise.

XZ: i don't think it can be considered a compromise right? but i'll do as much as possible. probably the final result may not have been achieved by you today. perhaps it will be resolved by looking back at the present after a few days.

🎤: actually i think something speaking of adults is actually a process of constantly recognizing boundaries as you just said, actually sometimes the so-called compromise is also a process of recognizing the boundaries. do you have that feeling of like you suddenly realized that in all aspects you actually has boundaries there?

XZ: of course i think this can be considered a rule. you can understand it this way.

🎤: if we actually said that five years have passed what will the next xiao zhan look like? have you ever thought about what kind of xiao zhan you hope to be in five years? at that time you will be 38 years old.

XZ: what do i hope xiao zhan looks like? i hope he can have a great time.

🎤: that’s all? is there or what kind of actor will he become?

XZ: no no no…i don't hope much…i just want him to be happy, to have a very happy life.

🎤: do you still dream frequently now? what was your most recent dream?

XZ: i haven’t had a dream for a long time.

🎤: do you often suffer from insomnia?

XZ:: there might be just a little time to sleep, there is bit of difficulty.

🎤: because we often say everyone actually has their own memory building i want to know in your memory — is there a moment that leave you with a recurring memory or could it been repeatedly reminded to you.

XZ:: the last time i dreamed was probably about the place where i used to live when i was a child. it's an old residential building and then our house is on the fifth floor. i remember what the aisle looked like.

🎤: seems to have gone back again

XZ: yes, and then it's really amazing, the structure of the room, and then the people. my parents and grandparents both. everyone is still stuck in that time because it was when i was still a child.

🎤: have you ever wondered why you keep dreaming about that repeatedly?

XZ: this might feel strange but maybe to me it's bit like a safe house. yes, a safe house. this kind of existence may occur when i feel tired or unhappy. maybe, i just want to go back.

🎤: your case reminds me of my previous interview with zhu deyong. he is a taiwanese cartoonist — he said that every time he felt unsafe he will go back to his childhood house in his mind, and he will go patrol room by room then use his memory to build the entire house. he can even see the most delicate table, the chair, and all the vivid memories.

XZ: i was like this in my dream. the kitchen at home, then the restroom, the living room, the two bedrooms, the structural cabinets of the balcony, at the time even the exhaust fan that never replaced. it's either a range hood or a wonderful one — all the details are clear and precise.

🎤: will that make you feel at ease?

XZ: i don't know either but instead of getting up…after waking up there will be a little feeling of loss and melancholy.

🎤: your childhood was particularly happy.

XZ:: my childhood…it's very happy.

🎤: so to some extent that’s also a way for you to nourish yourself.

XZ: yes

🎤: because i know you were actually a designer before and then you can also draw. so do you sometimes draw things about it? for example are you still drawing now? can you draw your childhood house?

XZ: no..but you reminded me. i can give it a try

🎤: it's because i feel like you will rebuilding your memories, some kind of similarity. it is also a very good feedback for yourself.

XZ: it's very good.

🎤: actually it's been five years to some extent…family members also aging. do you have this feeling? like i feel like my parents are getting older?

XZ: i do. but every time i try to stir up emotions then do it with them and message them they will immediately jump out and say "i'm playing ball now" so i don't have time to tell them otherwise my mom and i are out on a road trip again. she will says just be good to yourself, you will feel better okay? they are…very happy.

🎤: they are doing well, so they actually don't have the anxiety of aging at all.

XZ: they are full of power. so i think they are the object of my learning.

🎤: have you asked them why do you think they have no such anxiety at all? like they should think of it.

XZ: i have no idea. so i envy them very much. i really envy them. i learn from them this mentality.

🎤: we just asked our photographer. he has had a lot of contact with you in the five past years he says he will feel your current sense of security or rather your sense of relaxation is gradually increasing especially this year. so i don't know yet if it's a cue do you think there will be something this year that will make you suddenly feel this kind of openness or relaxation?

XZ: i think it’s very subtle because i believe life is not a novel not a movie, not a script. i didn't have a suddenly awakening point right? i think it't a long process, it’s a gradual accumulation then slowly and slowly some changes occurred. so you are asked me when it all started at which moment which i don't really know. but i can only feel like i'm here right now, i don't care that much, maybe it will be better.

🎤: i remember asking you back then 'are you smiling when you're happy' you said "i can't say i'm happy but i'm lucky”

XZ: i also feel very happy now, i am very lucky now

🎤: if you say so then i was also very happy it was a perfect five years. i think if you say so are lucky and happy in five years this show you have actually gone very far in the past five years. how to say this..you may not always gone so smoothly but you really is. so it's better to it to go smoothly. i hope the next five years will be smoother.

XZ: yes, just like what i do every year. people will ask me what kind of blessings do you have for yourself in the new year or give it to someone who likes you? i will says "safe and smooth" people may think that being smooth and healthy is so simple but let's think of it carefully it's not that simple at all. it's again a wish, a blessings.

🎤: so if you want to say something to everyone in 2025…

XZ: it still the same sentence "safe and smooth" i think it's safe and smooth for now then other will come follow naturally.

🎤: alright that's all for now. i have no other questions left. i am looking forward to the next five years with you.

XZ: thank you

[uwmspeccoll]

WOMEN’S HISTORY MONTH: Poetry, Sculpture, Infinity, and Pumpkins with Yayoi Kusama.

Every Day I Pray For Love by artist and sculptor Yayoi Kusama (1929-) was published in 2020 by David Zwirner Books in New York City. The book was occasioned by an exhibition of Kusama’s work at Zwirner’s gallery in late 2019, and notably highlights the artist’s written work – both her poetry, and her extraordinary, engaging titles (I’d Like You All to See the Magnificent Shape of Love That Bore Me; Have You Ever Seen Nameless Black Shadows Jumping Across the Universe?). The writing, at times, gives insight into her artistic process. In On Pumpkins, Kusama describes the fruit as her “spiritual home since childhood.” She understands them to have mystical qualities.           

Pumpkins bring about poetic peace in my mind. Pumpkins talk to me. Pumpkins, pumpkins, pumpkins.

Exuberant colors, playful figures, and cosmic concepts fill the book. The bold and dazzling elements of her visual art are accentuated by the simple, straightforward despair considered in some of her darker poems: “In the mire of foolishness on earth,” Kusama writes, “how stupid of me to have walked this long path, suffering / when death is imminent” Suicide, emptiness, depression, sleeplessness…Kusama lingers in darkness, revisits themes and struggles, and then consults her art. “Could I keep living?” she wonders. “I will ask my art,” she decides at the end of a poem tenderly titled A Message of Love from Yayoi Kusama.

See other Women's History Month posts.

View a post about Kusama's use of polka dots.

--Amanda, Special Collections Graduate Intern

[once-a-shape]

some more old concept art from 2019/2020/2021!!!

[anitalianfrie]

CELEPISODE SUMMARY

(aka the weird things that stuck with me during these 1.11 hours of out of body experience)

Him and mig ofter wear the same things. so often that during the episode they literally have the same hoodie.

he indeed broke his clavicles not once, not twice, but three times this year, the last fracture so bad he has to miss the 100km of champions to recover

he moved to romagna in 2019. in the same year, he crashed his minicar in the roundabout under mig's house while returning from a barbecue hosted at bez's. mig was on the balcony and watched it happed.

"you step off the gas? Who are you a loser? No you keep the foot on and crash against the rode sign pole"

they called his girlfriend

he feels the phisiological need to say that he grew up in Coassolo but he was born in Ciriè

He likes animes, his favourite one is Demon Slayer, his 2025 helmet will hame something Tanjiro-related on it. he got this passion from his brother

he got asked to explain the plot of demon slayer as kind of a mock, he explained it with a straight face

he then got asked to explain the last cod update, also as a mock, and he also explained it with a straight face

he cant keep his hands still

he kept laughing

they called Nelli "Tiger, do you hear me? I'm Cele" "I know you're cele"

he had some talks for a motogp seat for 2025 but nothing came from it

they wanted to do a replica of his helmet but also nothing came from it

he puts waves everywere because when he's fast on the bike he feels "liquid", as if he could fit in every shape, do every turn, adapt to every situation (magical bond with the bike etc etc)

[inkzee]

🎀HEATHERS AU MASTER POST

🎀

⚠️THIS MASTERPOST/ AU IS STIL UNDER CONSTRUCTION ⚠️

What Is this AU About?

September 6th, 1989,

Dear Diary...

Follow the crazy senior year of Ragatha Saywer, Jax Dean, and the gang as they follow the twists and turns of Digital Marshal High School!

This AU will have multiple side stories and is a collision on plot points from the Heathers original movie (1989), the first musical (2014), AND the new version of the musical (2019) (which are different in their own little way) along with my own little plot twist and side stories!

MY ASK ARE ALWAYS OPEN SEND ME WHAT YOU GUYS WANNA KNOW ABOUT THE AU, PLEASE

⚠️Just a Warning in Advanced⚠️:

Just like the original Heathers movies and musical, this AU will cover a lot of topics such as:

Suicide/ Suicidal Thoughts

Toxic Mindsets

Toxic Relationships

Plus More (will be added the more I post)

So please, if any of these topics make you uncomfy in any way shape form or fashion, this AU might not be your cup of tea💚

💙💙Characters Line-Up💙💙

[Year Book Coming Soon!]

❤️❤️Story and Lore Concepts ❤️❤️

JD Death + Dead Girl Waking or Croquet Night

💛💛Concepts 💛💛

"RAGTHA OPEN THE DOOR"

Introducing Ragtha Sawyer

Introducing Jax Dean

First Line-Up Concept

Pomni Concept

💚💚Doodle Drops 💚💚

Colored Doodle

Sketch Book Sketches

Jax Dean My Beloved

The Sketch That Started it All

I NEEEEED Button Doll Yuri

He's Giving Me the Crazy Eyes

Introducing The Big Three

❤️💙✨Q+A and Boundaries ✨💛💚

"Can I make Fanart/OCs for this AU?"

OF COURSE YOU CAN! I would love to see everyone's concepts and ideas for this AU, just make sure to tag me 💚 (When add more content I'm going to make an OC sheet so stay tuned for that!)

"Can I write fics of your AU?"

UM YEAH! AND TAG ME! I need some more fic in my AO3 yall

"Can I ship characters together/ ship my OC with characters?"

Even though this AU is Bunnydoll-based, you all can go nut. Just like the original Heathers I really wanna see how different ships work with this au. So yeah, go nuts.

"NSFW?"

I'm going to say it's okay since this AU is in the more mature category. Just please make sure you handle it responsibly, use common sense, and add warnings please. If you do it responsibly I am a-okay with it👌🏾✨

⚠️THIS MASTERPOST/ AU IS STIL UNDER CONSTRUCTION ⚠️

[rainbowsky]

[redacted] asked: Hey there rainbowsky, hope you're doing well :). So, I came across this one [redacted] where a bxg had shared some proof of gg and dd KISSING?? [allegedly (redacted)] Idk if it was caught on cam (if it was then OMG) or if it was caught by proxy shooters, but it looks kinda sus. Can you check it out and see if it's legit? Cause I haven't seen this one circulating on weibo or YT, and my brain feels like it's going to EXPLODE without being able to wash it. I'll attach the link here. Thanks in advance :).

[redacted] asked: Hello rbs ❤️ I wanna know this. There is photos of wyb and xz kissing in parking lot. And they take down after that. Is it true. ??

Hi you two!

Yeah, the GGDD 'parking lot incident'. Fans get really excited about stuff like this. Well, here are the photos so you can decide for yourself:

Both of these are much clearer than the alleged 'parking lot kiss'.

😅 Sorry, I really do have a point though.

The photos behind this and many of the other supposed sightings of GGDD together are so blurry you can hardly make out humanoid shapes in them, and even if you suspend disbelief and accept that the shape might be a person, it could literally be anyone. The only thing we ever have to support the idea that it might be GG and DD is the word of the stalker scum who claims to have taken the photo/video. And they have a lot to gain by lying about it, or even staging these sorts of things and making the accompanying material conveniently blurry and indistinct.

Consider the source and what they might have to gain by lying. Consider the possibility that the source might themselves have been misled or misreading what they were seeing. Consider the power of mob mentality and wishful thinking. Consider whether you need someone else to tell you what you're looking at in order to be able to even 'know' what you're looking at, and what that might say about the BS level involved. Consider whether you have any evidence at all in front of you.

And I'd like to remind everyone that this kind of thing is a knife that cuts both ways. If we're willing to take seriously a blurry photo where we can't even make out humanoid shapes let alone identify who those people might be or what they might be doing, then what's going to happen when antis show us a fake photo that they claim depicts an actress wearing a bone necklace, for example?

Please be careful out there, and learn to evaluate 'evidence' in a rational, critical way. There are plenty of free resources for learning critical thinking, and even many free university level courses available online. I can't possibly overstate the importance of understanding these concepts - not just as a fan but as a person trying to navigate an increasingly fact-averse world.

Where are GG and DD in all this?

But on to the bigger issue with this particular type of material, which is our attitudes toward GG and DD's privacy and well-being.

I've talked about this a lot over the years, and I've even answered this exact 'parking lot' question multiple times in the past (this claim isn't from 2024, it's actually many, many years old - I think it goes back as far as 2019 IIRC). This kind of invasive BS is far, far beneath our dignity to explore and dig into. I hope we can all strive to be better people than this.

If GG and DD were actually ever photographed kissing in a parking lot somewhere, would you not think the kinds of people who would get excited about this and share it around and breathlessly comment on it are total assholes? Because I certainly would. This is stalker behavior, and people having a wank off of an invasion of GG and DD's privacy. It's putting fandom insecurities and 'proof-seeking' above GG and DD's well-being.

As fans we should always have GG and DD's best interests at heart. There is no leap of logic where going after this kind of thing can be perceived as being in any way in GG and DD's best interests.

We shouldn't be dupes, we shouldn't be stalkers. Please always remember that GG and DD are human beings, not characters in a drama. If we don't see photos of them together it's because it's not in their best interests to be seen together. Sit with that for a moment. Take it to heart.

I know this kind of response from me can feel harsh to some people, but I really feel that these ideas will be totally self-evident to anyone who centers the humanity and well-being of GG and DD in their fandom experience. It's sad when people's first thought isn't for GG and DD's safety and privacy, especially when we're talking about a gay couple under a queer-hostile government.

Whether the photos are real or not, the attitude we have toward them and the way we discuss them creates a climate and a standard for how fandom handles such things. Treating this type of thing as exciting and salacious rather than as invasive and disrespectful gives people social license to pursue and share stalker material. It helps fans disassociate GG and DD from their humanity and treat them as objects or fictional characters rather than as people.

I understand that it's easy to get swept up in things and I don't want you to feel judged or disliked by me. I don't feel that way at all - I truly don't - and I hope you don't take my feelings about this topic personally. I just get so angry when I see stuff like this.

You are by no means the first people to get caught up without thinking, and you won't be the last. I just hope you'll reflect on it and understand why it's not a good path to go down if you want what's best for GG and DD.

I firmly believe that everyone should engage in fandom in whatever way best aligns with their values and interests. I just think that choice should ideally be a conscious, informed one.

Sorry for not answering these individually, but they're the same question and some of the information in one of them needed to be removed. I've also removed your names out of respect for your privacy.

Related posts:

Protecting GGDD, and candies and material I won’t discuss on my blog

Just. No.

The bone necklace

BXG Fandom Etiquette

Why it's important not to share harmful material

[berrystainedsue]

28th march fic rec!

A trace of you (30K) by SweetieR

Louis and Harry met one day of April 2019 at a cinema and it was love at first sight for both of them. Louis was so sure they would spend the rest of their lives together, it was an evidence. Flashback to 5 years later, one Sunday of April 2025 where Louis is cold, lonely and single. He goes to his closet for a sweater and then has his life turned upside down when he falls upon one of Harry's old sweater there. Can such a simple piece of clothing bring two people back together or will it be too late and that sweater will allow them to say goodbye forever?

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Relaxed Daddy, Tamed Bratty (9K) by SomeDovesFly | @somedovesfly

“Oh, you are in so much fucking trouble,” Louis laughed, but couldn’t glare since he was still blindfolded. And Harry couldn’t talk back since the earplugs were still in, so he wiggled a dance on top of Louis’s hips to show he was pleased with himself. He even dared to draw little Xs over Louis’s nipples with a smile shape across his tummy while he listened to Louis’s threats.

Louis threw his head back down on the pillow in not-so-convincing anger. “Well, finish what you started then. Better use your mouth while you still can.”

or

Established d/s Larry. Louis has a stressful day at work and asks subby Harry to give him sensory deprivation to relax and decompress. However, the brat in him can't resist playing with his tied up Dom and Louis is more than happy to give him some fun-ishment for misbehaving.

or

A realistic BDSM story about how couples use kink for not just sex, but also stress relief

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Dreaming of You (30K) by louislittletomlintum | @louislittletomlintum

“Do you like cigarettes after sex?”

Harry blanched, wondering why on earth Louis would ask him a question like that.

“Oh, well, I - well I have asthma, and ehm, I’m actually a virgin, so,” Harry managed to stutter out, answering purely on instinct as he fiddled with the edge of the vinyl case he was holding and looked at Louis nervously.

He met Louis’ eye after a few seconds and saw an amused glint, one of his curved eyebrows raised in question as he nodded down at the vinyl in Harry’s hands. Harry looked down and was met with three words in white, serif typeface against a misty black background:

Cigarettes After Sex

or the one where harry's in his mid-20's so it's probably about time louis took his virginity

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Say Something (105K) by kingsofeverything | @kingsofeverything

At fifty years old and recently divorced, Omega Harry Styles isn't interested in dating. When his doctor suggests a heat and rut matching service, he signs up out of necessity. It’s the only use he has for an Alpha in his life.

Twenty-eight-year-old Alpha Louis Tomlinson aims to change that.

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Chasing Empty Spaces (79K) by Lis (domesticharry)

The year is 1934 and Harry Styles was to inherent the largest tobacco firm in the south. His parents have picked out the “perfect” girl for him to marry and he has the privilege of receiving the highest education possible. The problem was, Harry hadn’t realized he didn’t actually want any part of that future until he met a mechanic named, Louis Tomlinson.

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Halloween (59K) by SomeDovesFly | @somedovesfly

Follow Harry and Louis through 6 Halloweens in a sex, drugs, and rock and roll AU in a time before cellphones or internet.

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starin' back from the lookin' glass (there stood a woman where a half-grown boy had stood) (23K) by 4ureyesonly28 | @evilovesyou

Harry squeezed his feet into the black heels his mother handed him from their little satin bag and stood up, slightly wobbly for a few seconds before he caught himself.

“They’re small on you, I know,” Mama said quietly as she went and grabbed the mirror. “You’ll have to use your first money to get a place to stay, but after that you need to buy shoes that fit you…”

She was still speaking, but Harry couldn’t hear her anymore over the blood rushing in his ears as she turned the mirror and made him look at himself.

He looked… He was… He felt like a woman. Where just under an hour ago, he’d seen a boy, barely a young man, shaving off the bits of his beard that had started to grow in so late, he now saw a woman. She was as real as he had ever seen. His posture, unsure and shy, morphed into hers, shoulders straight and hip cocked as she tried her best to balance herself on the high heels she’d inherited.

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(I Can't Get No) Satisfaction (48K) by SwimmingInAChampagneSea

“And finally, Harry’s so-called quirky trait is probably the one that requires most getting used to," Zayn says, smirking. Louis looks at Harry, whose only reaction is rolling his eyes so hard Louis thinks they could get stuck. “It’s normal and natural,” Harry sighs. “Right, so lads, Harry masturbates a lot. Like a lot. And he is not quiet," Niall says, grinning and looking at Harry like he sort of admires him for it. Louis looks at Harry again. He has squared his shoulders and is looking defiantly around the room. Louis is intrigued. This could be fun. “Are you a leftie?” Louis asks, obviously looking to tease Harry. Harry sighs so profoundly that Louis is impressed with how much air he can blow out in one go. "I am not," Harry answers, looking mildly annoyed. "So, how are you getting by now?" Louis asks, generally interested. "Not well," Harry mumbles, looking genuinely annoyed.

OR Harry broke his arm and can't pleasure himself the way he likes. Louis has no intention of helping him out AT ALL, but alas, here they are.

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stat time! (clearly i havent read a lot this month im going to blame severance for taking over my life sorry not sorry)

856,607 words read (-23% than last month)

16 fics read (-20% less than last month)

15 authors (-25% less than last month)

feel free to send me an ask if you have read a fic ive recommended! i'd love to talk about the fic with you <3

[goodbyeyellowbrickcloset]

The Mirror Atlas: An Intro to Taylor Swift’s Reflection

I’ve been fascinated by Taylor Swift’s use of mirrors for a long time and the deeper I look, the more prophetic it becomes. Mirrors in her world are never just props. They’re signals. Symbols. Tools of revelation and concealment. A mirror might reflect a self, or fracture it. It might hide a truth in plain sight... or hold someone else entirely.

Now, nearly a decade after Kaylor, I remain ~unashamedly~ convinced that there is still a story being told. Whether it’s past or present, I don’t claim to know. I’m willing to wait, watch, and listen as it all unfolds. One thing is for sure, it's impossible for me to ignore. When I see a compact mirror in Karlie Kloss’s hand at the 2025 Met Gala, I can’t unsee it. The mirror is a portal��and she opened it on camera.

It’s no secret that Reputation was misunderstood when it dropped. What amazes me is that, even now, most of the fandom still doesn’t seem to get it. But maybe that’s the point. Maybe Taylor only ever meant for it to be revealed in hindsight. And maybe that’s why the rerelease is taking so long... When it comes, it’s going to be just as devastating as the first time watching it go over people’s heads again.

As I explore this, it's important to note that I see the mirror theory and eye theory in the same vein. So, if the visible eye on the Reputation album cover really is Karlie’s (and I believe it might be), then what we’re looking at isn’t just a concept album. It’s lore buried so deep, it’s taken years to even begin surfacing. Yeeeears to really start clicking.

This post is the beginning of a larger project, tracing the moments where mirrors appear in Taylor’s visual storytelling. Not as decoration, but as active participants in the mythos. This is about symbols that shimmer with double meaning—about what Taylor tells, and what she leaves unsaid. These are three mirrors that matter.

We begin in the present, with a mirror held by someone who’s never really left the frame.

1. Karlie Kloss, The Compact Mirror, and Met Gala Moments

On May 6th, 2025, Karlie Kloss posted a carousel of “getting ready” images to Instagram following the annual Met Gala. Her look that night? Glamorous, gleaming, and a little too Reputation coded, especially given who's watching. However, the morning after brought the smoking gun.

In one image, Karlie holds a compact mirror. The reflection shows an eye that doesn’t quite look like hers. It appears softer, rounder. There’s a flash of blonde bangs in the frame.

Peculiar, for sure...

A video in the same post, sped up to near-invisibility, shows nothing unusual at first. But slowed down, the reflection seems to catch the shape of someone else entirely. Some say it’s Taylor. Some say it’s just a trick of the light.

But to those of us watching closely, it’s giving the Call It What You Want Miss Americana clip all over again. Five years going strong.

Even the background audio adds weight. The song playing over Karlie’s video is “U Weren’t Here I Really Miss You” by Cult Member and Mia Martina. Released in 2019, the title alone echoes themes of absence and longing. It’s soft and moody and truly feels like a fever dream. If this was a curated moment, the music choice may be the quietest clue of all.

At the same time, Taylor is currently selling a compact mirror on her official site. It’s etched with the lyric, “Are you ever dreaming of me?” from Delicate.

A lyric about vulnerability, desire, and the terrifying risk of being truly seen. The mirror in Karlie’s hand lives in a video viewed thousands of times. Sure, they're not the same object, but they speak the same language. One asks the question. The other hovers near the answer.

Oh, the compact mirror... This wouldn’t be the first time it's made an appearance in their shared visual universe. In 2015’s Bad Blood—the cinematic music video where Karlie played the knife-throwing assassin Knockout—compact mirrors flash a couple of times.

In one shot, a mirror is held by Selena Gomez's character, Arsyn, and reflects Taylor (her character, Catastrophe) mid-battle. Right after, Arsyn blows smoke off the mirror into Catastrophe's face and she falls, shattering the glass wall behind her. In another moment, Gigi Hadid’s character, Slay-Z, holds a compact that functions more like a weapon than a beauty tool. The mirror isn’t for touch-ups. It’s used to see, to target, to surveil.

For my own entertainment, while we're at it and talking about Bad Blood, I wanted to note what I see as Bad Blood callbacks in two of Karlie's Met looks: 2025 and 2016… go figure.

The Met madness is deep within Gaylor lore and it's something that deserves it's own dissertation. For the sake of chronicling, let's turn our eyes to 2019. On the night of the Met Gala themed Camp: Notes on Fashion, Karlie posted a photo holding a compact mirror with the caption: “Looking camp right in the eye.” It was clever and pointed. For most, it was totally misunderstood. For some, it felt like the photo winked.

Camp, in its purest form, is queer—an art of exaggeration, subversion, and coded visibility. The fact that Karlie chose a mirror to make that statement only deepens the meaning. It wasn’t just a nod to the theme. It was a reflection held up to the gaze itself.

When a motif returns like this: same object, same players, years apart... it stops being aesthetic and starts being intentional. The compact mirror isn’t just a prop. It’s a reflection of things unsaid. When Karlie picks it up in 2019 and again in 2025, we’re not just watching a routine beauty shot. We’re seeing something resurface. A deep portal. A time travel. All the love we unraveled and a whisper that says: I'm still here.

2. Reputation – The Disappearing Act

If there’s an era where mirrors stop reflecting and start breaking, it’s Reputation. The visual and lyrical language of this album is all about distortion, erasure, and strategic self-construction. It’s not about being seen—it’s about being watched. And what better symbol to carry that weight than a mirror?

Let’s start with the cover.

EYE THEORY TRUTHERS, RISE.

The Reputation album cover is a grayscale newspaper layout that blankets half of Taylor’s face. Some believe the visible eye belongs to Taylor, and the obscured one? Karlie’s. (It’s me. Hi.) A theory, sure—but the ambiguity holds. The cover itself becomes a mirror. Or maybe a mask. Either way, it’s hiding as much as it reveals.

I need to make my own Eye Theory deep dive (and I will)... but if you're interested now, there are so many lovely Tik Tok creators that are a total wealth of knowledge :)

Digging into the album, the use of mirrors continues. For the sake of this being an intro, let's touch on a relevant music video from this era.

We’ve already seen the compact mirror show up in Bad Blood, where it’s held like a weapon. But in Delicate, the mirror becomes something more slippery—something emotional. In this video, Taylor isn’t fighting anyone. She’s trying to find herself. And the mirrors in the video don’t reflect a consistent identity. They shift. They vanish. They resist.

Let’s break it down.

00:33–00:36 In the opening hallway scene, Taylor walks with her bodyguards through a grand hotel corridor. She catches a glimpse of herself in a passing mirror, and something strange happens: she and the guards stop, walk backward, then charge forward again. It’s as if the sight of her own reflection interrupts the performance. The self in the mirror is the managed one. The one who turns around? That’s the version trying to break free.

00:44–1:02 In the dressing room scene, Taylor stands alone, making wild faces into the mirror. It’s one of the only moments in the Reputation era where she’s truly unguarded, and it’s with her reflection. She isn’t performing for the world. She’s performing for herself. It’s silly, strange, and a little unhinged. It’s honest.

1:03–1:12 But then, the spell breaks. Three women enter the room. Taylor vanishes. And so does her reflection. The moment she’s no longer alone, the mirror erases her. That is not subtle. That is design.

2:34–2:45 Later, in the elevator scene, a woman stands beside Taylor, smiling, applying lipstick, completely unaware of her presence. Taylor is still invisible. She exists outside the reflection, outside the frame, outside the narrative.

To me, Delicate is one of the most emotionally rich videos in Taylor’s entire visual canon. It’s a meditation on freedom—the kind that only comes when no one is watching. The moves she makes in the video are strange, almost feral. And I think that’s the point. She’s showing us how she behaves when the mirror no longer holds her. When she’s unseen and alive.

There are more mirror moments in Reputation that we’ll get to in the Mirror Atlas, but Delicate stands alone in its depth. It isn’t just a pop video. It’s a reflection of what happens when the reflection disappears.

3. mirrorball – Shimmer, Performance, and Emotional Reflection

If Reputation was about erasure, mirrorball is what’s left behind in the spotlight. It’s one of Taylor’s most quietly devastating songs—soft in delivery, but sharp in what it reveals. This time, she isn’t looking into a mirror or breaking one. She’s become the mirror itself.

In the Long Pond Studio Sessions, Taylor describes mirrorball as a song about performing through pain, about the exhausting need to be “everything for everybody.” She compares herself to a disco ball—beautiful because it’s broken, casting fractured reflections for others to enjoy. “If you break it, it’s just made of a million pieces of broken glass.” That’s the metaphor. And it’s not just poetic—it’s literal.

She didn’t perform mirrorball in a mirrored outfit on the Eras Tour, but that detail only makes her earlier choices more significant. In 2018, at the American Music Awards, Taylor stepped out in a full mirrorball dress. A mosaic of tiny mirrored tiles wrapped around her body. She wore it to accept awards for Reputation, the album that she’s still letting us unravel. The look was bold, but intentional. She showed up shining—reflective, beautiful, unreadable.

In 2023, at The 1975’s concert in London, Taylor made a surprise appearance wearing another mirrored mini-dress. It wasn’t just a callback. It was a performance of an identity. She was stepping into a space filled with speculation, projection, and fantasy—and she wore exactly what the crowd would expect. Not because it was her. Because it was what they wanted her to be.

And that’s what makes mirrorball so devastating. The mirror isn’t something she holds. It’s something she becomes. In the crowd’s gaze, in the fandom’s theories, in the industry’s demands—she reflects, refracts, and never quite settles into her own outline. Even her absence is curated. At the 2025 iHeartRadio Awards, Taylor didn’t attend, but sent a performance clip of mirrorball from opening weekend of Eras. She didn’t appear. The mirror did.

Some may believe otherwise, but to me, this isn’t a song about love. It’s about exposure. About what it costs to be adored, interpreted, and seen only in fragments. mirrorball doesn’t reveal who Taylor is. It reflects who we ask her to be.

And maybe that’s the point. I mean, the last thing we’ve heard from her in months was a clip of mirrorball standing in for her at the 2025 iHeartRadio Awards. Now, there's many buzzing fan theories of all sorts stirring around the 2025 AMAs. If she were to break her silence there, it'd be on the same stage where she first wore that Balmain beauty in 2018. it’s hard not to feel like the loop is closing. The timing is too sharp to ignore.

The End of the Intro, The Beginning of an Atlas

So, given this brain dump, I hope it’s clear that my interest lies in the mirror—not just as a visual, but as a motif woven through Taylor’s body of work. What I've started here is just the beginning, but even with only three moments, the pattern starts speaking for itself.

It’s enough to say with confidence: the mirror isn’t just a flourish. It’s a signal. A portal. A language. And once you see it, it’s everywhere.

This post isn’t a thesis. It’s a foundation. A first pass at something deeper, something still unfolding. The Mirror Atlas will grow—moment by moment, frame by frame—as we trace this reflection through Taylor’s universe.

If you’ve noticed a mirror—literal or symbolic, lyric or live—share it. The comments are open. The story is still being written.

And if you ask me, this mirror trail feels less like theory, and more like an invisible string tying Taylor to… her.

[justforbooks]

David Lynch

US director whose wildly unconventional films burrowed into the unsavoury depths of his nation’s psyche

David Lynch, who has died aged 78, was the most original film-maker to emerge in postwar America, as well as the greatest cinematic surrealist since Buñuel. His understanding of desire, fantasy and dread was unparalleled; the Paris Review called him “the Edward Hopper of American film”.

He made his debut with the experimental Eraserhead (1977), shot in sooty black-and-white and set in a churning industrial landscape where a man with a tombstone-shaped pompadour tends to his mewling, reptilian baby. From the first frames, Lynch mapped out a cinema of the subconscious that thrived on its own dream logic and nightmare imagery. It shaped everything he did, including his masterpiece Blue Velvet (1986), in which an innocent young man (Kyle MacLachlan) discovers a human ear and is drawn into the sleazy, violent world of a psychopath (Dennis Hopper) and a terrorised torch singer (Isabella Rossellini).

That film introduced into the archetype of cosy small-town America some potent notes of scepticism and revulsion that have never been dispelled.

This project to burrow into the unsavoury depths of his country’s psyche continued with the television whodunnit Twin Peaks, co-created with Mark Frost, which ran for two series in 1990 and 1991 then spawned a big-screen prequel, Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me (1992). The show returned 25 years later in a bold but often harrowing and impenetrable third series that, despite being made for TV, was voted the best film of 2017 by Cahiers du Cinéma and Sight & Sound magazines. To preserve the spell cast by his work, Lynch refused to be drawn on explanations. Asked what the third helping of Twin Peaks was about, he replied: “It’s about 18 hours.”

He exposed the horrors lurking beneath apparently placid exteriors, and found beauty in the quotidian, the industrial – “I’d rather go to a factory any day than walk in the woods” – or the repellent: “If you don’t know what it is, a sore can be very beautiful.” For all the darkness of Lynch’s vision, his films could also be extremely funny, peppered with verbal and visual non sequiturs, skew-whiff line readings, slapstick violence and comic embarrassment. The mix of folksy naivety and elusive strangeness in his work extended to his persona and even his wardrobe: 1950s-style slacks and blazer, and a shirt buttoned to the gullet.

He drank a milkshake in the same diner (Bob’s Big Boy) every day for seven years between the late-70s and mid-80s. Watching him on set, the novelist David Foster Wallace observed: “It’s hard to tell if he’s a genius or an idiot.” The musician Sting, who starred in his science-fiction adventure Dune (1984), called him “a madman in sheep’s clothing” while Mel Brooks, who produced Lynch’s second film, The Elephant Man (1980), described the affable director as “Jimmy Stewart from Mars”.

Though his films were wildly unconventional, Lynch was still nominated three times for the best director Oscar. (He won an honorary Oscar in 2019.) Wild at Heart (1990), a road movie marked by baroque violence and homages to The Wizard of Oz, won him the Palme d’Or at Cannes, and he was named best director by the same festival in 2001 for Mulholland Drive, a warped neo-noir thriller about an aspiring actor (Naomi Watts) whose dreams of stardom disintegrate horribly after she befriends the amnesiac survivor of a car accident (Laura Harring). Developed by Lynch from his own butchered TV pilot for a series rejected by the ABC network, Mulholland Drive was one of his most seductively strange pictures.

But linear narrative was not beyond him, as he proved with two deeply moving films based on real events: The Elephant Man, about the severely deformed Joseph Merrick (“John” in the screenplay) paraded as a circus freak in the Victorian era, and The Straight Story (1999), in which an elderly man travels 300 miles on a riding mower to see his ailing brother. Both earned Oscar nominations for their lead performers (John Hurt and Richard Farnsworth respectively), which served as a reminder that Lynch’s skill as a director of actors could sometimes be obscured by his extraordinary imaginative powers.

He was born in Missoula, Montana, to Edwina (nee Sundholm), known as Sunny, who occasionally taught English, and Donald Lynch, whose job as a research scientist for the US government’s Department of Agriculture dictated the family’s peripatetic lifestyle. When Lynch was two months old they uprooted to Sandpoint, Idaho, and by the time he was 14 they had moved a further four times.

He described himself as a “troubled” child who was quick to intuit that all was not well. “I learned that just beneath the surface there’s another world, and still different worlds as you dig deeper. I knew it as a kid, but I couldn’t find the proof. It was just a feeling. There is goodness in blue skies and flowers, but another force – a wild pain and decay – also accompanies everything.” The aftertaste of that memory can be found throughout Lynch’s work but particularly in the opening of Blue Velvet, where a montage showing schoolchildren, roses and white picket fences gives way to shots of insects thrashing in the undergrowth.

Having shown an aptitude for painting since adolescence, Lynch began studying art at the age of 18 at the Boston Museum School, then dropped out after a year to travel to Europe with his friend (and future production designer) Jack Fisk, only to return to the US a fortnight later. He got on better at the Pennsylvania Academy of Fine Arts, Philadelphia, where his canvases took a darker turn (one work, The Bride, showed a woman performing an abortion on herself). It was there that Lynch met Peggy Lentz, a fellow student, who in 1967 became the first of his four wives. Together they had a child, Jennifer, and there have been almost as many attempts to link the pressures of youthful parenthood to the plot of Eraserhead as there have been theories about what exactly that film means, with its flying sperm-like creatures, roast chickens that writhe when sliced, and a balloon-cheeked chanteuse who lives behind the radiator.

He had his first solo exhibition in 1967, the same year he made his debut film work, the one-minute loop Six Men Getting Sick. He received a grant from the American Film Institute to make his 34-minute 16mm featurette The Grandmother (1970), in which a neglected child grows an elderly companion from a seed. The film combined jerky stop-motion animation with live-action footage, and showcased the sound design work of the great Alan Splet. Along with Fisk and the composer Angelo Badalamenti, Splet would become one of Lynch’s most vital collaborators.

In 1972, Lynch began work on Eraserhead. The shoot lasted five years, with regular pauses whenever the production ran out of money; Lynch would then supplement the budget with cash from family and friends (Fisk and his wife, the actor Sissy Spacek, were among those who donated) and by working odd jobs, including a paper round. After his marriage broke down, he also slept in the stables where the film was being shot. When it was finally released, Eraserhead was received with bafflement in many quarters, and with a slow-dawning fanaticism by those who caught it in the midnight movie slots at cinemas in the US, where it played, in some cases, for several years consecutively.

The film attracted the admiration of the poet Charles Bukowski and the musician Tom Waits, and went on to influence film-makers including Terry Gilliam and Darren Aronofsky, the Coen brothers and Stanley Kubrick, who reportedly screened it to the cast and crew of The Shining to put them in the appropriate mood.

During the early stages of production on The Elephant Man, Lynch’s attempts to design the complicated makeup failed catastrophically. But the finished film, with makeup by Christopher Tucker, a clammy feel for Victorian England and some unmistakable Lynchian touches (such as the main character’s birth in a giant ball of smoke), was an outstanding success. It melded the director’s sensibility with compassionate, classical storytelling, even if it did play fast and loose with the facts (the real Merrick, for instance, took a healthy cut of profits from being exhibited).

Lynch’s next project, an adaptation of Frank Herbert’s sprawling space epic Dune, was the only one of his films to escape his control entirely, and to be released in a form not approved by him. He was unsuited to the rigours of blockbuster film-making, and his attempts to wrestle Herbert’s many-tentacled narrative into coherent shape were doomed. The film was an expensive flop – Lynch called it “a fiasco” – but it still contained astonishing sets, costumes and sound design. And it introduced Lynch to MacLachlan, who played the bland hero and would become the director’s on-screen alter ego, the Mastroianni to his Fellini, in Blue Velvet and Twin Peaks. In the latter, MacLachlan played the coffee-and-cherry-pie-loving FBI agent Dale Cooper, whose dreams guide his detective work as strongly as any physical clues.

The experience of making Dune left Lynch drained and depressed. “I was almost dead,” he said. “Dune took me off at the knees. Maybe a little higher.” He amused himself by contributing a four-panel comic strip, The Angriest Dog in the World, to the LA Reader newspaper; it ran for nine years, during which time his drawings of a dog chained in a yard remained unaltered and only the text in the speech bubbles changed.

His fortunes were revived, along with his right to final cut, with the sumptuous and terrifying Blue Velvet, a project he had been planning since before Dune. The novelist JG Ballard called it “the best film of the 1980s – surreal, voyeuristic, subversive”.

Wild at Heart could only look frivolous by comparison, despite game performances by Nicolas Cage and Laura Dern as the lovers on the run. But Lynch was back at the height of his powers with the first series of Twin Peaks, which began with the discovery of Laura Palmer (Sheryl Lee) washed up dead and wrapped in plastic. It altered television irrevocably, paving the way for shows such as The X-Files and Lost, True Detective and The Killing; David Chase also cited it as an influence on The Sopranos.

That enthusiastic reception made it all the more bruising for Lynch when Twin Peaks: Fire Walk With Me was widely panned. In its focus on the days leading up to Laura Palmer’s murder, the film sacrificed the quirkiness of the series in favour of an intense mood of violence and suffering, and it was several years before the picture was reappraised more positively.

Lynch’s next film, Lost Highway (1996), was a profoundly unsettling thriller that hinged on an audacious narrative fracture: one moment a jazz saxophonist suspected of murder is sitting in his prison cell; the next he has vanished and the guards find in his place a young mechanic who has no idea how he got there. The film was steeped in deadpan humour and violent imagery (there is a memorable death-by-coffee-table), as well as nausea-inducing high-speed driving footage that would be subverted comically in his next movie, The Straight Story, which never exceeded 4mph.

Acclaim for The Straight Story and Mulholland Drive restored Lynch to his late-80s standing – the latter went on to be voted the best film of the century so far in a poll of critics conducted by the BBC in 2017. His last film, Inland Empire (2006), was concerned, like Mulholland Drive, with an actor (Dern) suffering a breakdown. But at three-hours-plus and with an unusually ugly visual style (it was shot by Lynch on a handheld Sony digital camera), as well as a meandering narrative interrupted occasionally by a rabbit sitcom complete with laugh-track, it offered little of the compensatory seductiveness of the director’s other films.

That said, Lynch was not alone in feeling that Dern deserved an Oscar nomination, even if his decision to express this view by sitting on a Hollywood street corner with a cow and a poster of the actor’s face was more unorthodox than the usual method of taking out a full-page ad in the trade papers.

With the exception of the third series of Twin Peaks, Lynch devoted the rest of his days to painting, music and writing, while resisting suggestions that he had retired from film-making: “I did not say I quit cinema. Simply that nobody knows what the future holds.” Among the albums he released was the avant-garde blues collection Crazy Clown Time (2011). He also worked with the journalist Kristine McKenna on the memoir Room to Dream (2018), in which her biographical chapters about him alternate with ones in which he muses on what she has written and adds his own reflections, and gave an uncanny performance as the eye-patch-wearing, cigar-smoking film-maker John Ford in the final scene of Steven Spielberg’s autobiographical coming-of-age drama The Fabelmans (2022). Though initially reluctant to take the role, he was persuaded by Dern and by Spielberg’s assurance that there would be a large bag of Cheetos waiting in his dressing room. “Any chance I can, I get them,” Lynch said.

He was a passionate advocate of transcendental meditation, writing and speaking at length on the ways in which it had helped his work and enabled him to “catch fish” – his favourite metaphor for the creative process. (“If you get an idea that’s thrilling to you, put your attention on it and these other fish will swim into it.”) The clarity engendered by meditation was perhaps at odds with the gnomic quality of much of his work.

Last year, he revealed that a lifetime of smoking had left him with emphysema. “I can hardly walk across a room,” he said. “It’s like you’re walking around with a plastic bag around your head.”

He is survived by his fourth wife, Emily Stofle, whom he married in 2009, and their daughter, Lula; by a daughter, Jennifer, from his first marriage, which ended in divorce; by a son, Austin, from his second marriage, to Mary Fisk (sister of Jack), whom he married in 1977 and divorced in 1987; and by Riley, his son with Mary Sweeney, who edited and produced many of his films from the 1980s onwards, as well as co-writing The Straight Story, and whom he married in 2006 and divorced the following year.

🔔 David Keith Lynch, director, born 20 January 1946; died 16 January 2025

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