#totally unscripted

[jmdbjk]

Traveling is my thing too...

I'm still marinating in my Are You Sure?! afterglow. I just loved every part of it, every minute of the episodes and behinds. There is one thing that's been on my mind and I know it might ruffle some people because of how it sounds at first.

Jimin and Jungkook spontaneously created "scenes" for Are You Sure?!. Prompted each other for the sake of making content. Another facet of being good entertainers...

They were trying to be content creators and not rely on others to tell them what to say or do. The total opposite of "scripted" which, of course, means the shows were unscripted and made up as the days' activities unfolded.

They both actively initiated moments they could play off each other. This is part of that now-becoming-over-used word we say to describe their dynamic... chemistry.

Was it fake? No. The moments they created were genuine interactions whether it was an inside joke of theirs or just talking about topics like cosmic horror or origins of slang words. Not any different than how we behave with our own close friends and significant others. We initiate conversation topics, we poke at each other, we talk about stupid shit, we sometimes have heartfelt and meaningful conversations.

In other words, we are authentic with our closest people. That's what humans do. And as we also are so comfortable with our friends and significant others, we can also have quiet time just being in the presence of the other. IT'S ALL NORMAL AND NOT FAKE.

Was it fan service? No. Again, they were being content creators, trying to create something that was purely them, purely normal interactions only they could have with each other.

Do they have off moments? Of course they do. When one or the other was not active in the interaction, the other was just being themselves, no faking, no fan service, just Jimin and Jungkook behaving as themselves, the only way they know to behave, in the presence of the other, nothing negative about it, just "being."

But they were on a mission to create content that they knew Army would enjoy while they were away. With a big smile, Jungkook said we'll really enjoy it. He said this before he got in that Jeep and drove away to Connecticut. He already knew before it started that he and Jimin were going to have fun. They trust us, their fans, to enjoy the things they give us. Those who do not enjoy it are not their fans.

I've seen people say they only watched a few clips and not the entire series of AYS and then conclude "its obvious (insert fave name) feels this or that." No Boo, you can't deduce those things from a 5 second slo-mo clip or a screen cap from a split second moment from an 8 episode series (9 hours of interactions between the members). What IS obvious is these people don't want to know the truth.

If you don't watch original content in its entirety, how could you possibly "know" your fave/bias? Especially this particular series. If you are a fan of Jimin, Jungkook or even Taehyung, if you did not watch the entire episodes, your opinion is meaningless. If you based your opinions on select snippets or screenshots with no context, your opinion is meaningless because you don't have the entire story. You have every right to say you don't like it and won't watch it because it doesn't align with your (false) idea of who Jimin, Jungkook and even Tae are. But in doing that, you should also remind yourself you are clinging to your own fantasies of who they are.

If you had access and were able to watch all of the episodes on Disney+, many thanks for helping to make this project of Jungkook and Jimin's a resounding success. Ranked #5 worldwide for 2024 TV shows on Disney+. This chart is sorted by popularity:

In his last live the day before enlisting, Jimin told us he was sick with the flu for a week after returning from Sapporo and only had another week before their enlistment. Maybe he was starting to feel the symptoms on that last day in Sapporo and it contributed to feeling so down.

The behind footage for Sapporo shows at some point the cameras were turned off in the car when they were driving to the airport to return to Korea.

It would have been easy for the show's producers to just edit the footage and write captions that totally ignore the fact the cameras were ever turned off at all. We would have never known. Them including that information helps us put everything in context. Jungkook and Jimin purposely turned the cameras off and they purposely informed us of that so we could understand that there was a lot of time without any recording whatsoever. Maybe they talked about stuff they didn't want recorded. Maybe Jimin took a nap because he wasn't feeling good. No matter, most would call that PRIVATE TIME. They had an abundance of PRIVATE TIME during ALL of these trips.

I feel strongly they will do a few more trips. They loved this so much, and they have a foundation to build on, they will do more.

And now, its been a few weeks after the last episode and we've got the behind scenes. It still sort of feels like a dream that these two produced this project for us. Yet it only made sense didn't it? Who else out of the 7 would do something like this? It's genius level thinking to create this, doing something they both have said they love doing, doing it with each other, the people they connect with the best, and giving us something at the same time. Brilliant.

And I want to say thank you to Jimin and Jungkook. Personally, this was the best of the best.

It is truly the work of the Universe that they have each other, to support each other during this period of time. In recent pics I've seen, they look well. I miss them so much.

And now we're just over 8 months away from having them back. Eight months and 15 days before all 7 are discharged and we look forward to the first group live and an ocean of tears of relief pouring from all over the world for them. 10 days until our Hobi is back. I'm so excited!

My Are You Sure?! photobook arrived the other day, I wasn't expecting it so suddenly because Weverse Shop still had it marked as "shipping soon" and then all of a sudden it was here. YAY!

I am going to scan a lot of it but the big postcard sized photos that were part of the early pre-order gifts are on my refrigerator. I also ordered the Are You Sure?! magnets but those won't be here until December. As you can see, I'm a collector of fridge magnets when I travel so it was a no-brainer to get the Are You Sure magnets.

Also, shout out to anyone in North Carolina trying to recover from Hurricane Helene. The Nantahala area was one of my most favorite vacations. I hope to go back someday. I know it's hard to rebuild, I've experienced the aftermath of too many hurricanes. Take it one day at a time and never lose hope. Normal will come back again.

[randoandro]

Pearl: Well, Impulse was the guy I wanted to win, and he just went and died!

Cleo: And he's died...

Cleo: I mean-

Pearl: I don't know what to do anymore...

[ceoofsammonroe]

Wake the Dead - Sam Monroe Smut

Summary: You meet Sam during his shift at the local video store on a search for something to make you feel alive and decide to drag him to the old cemetery.

Warnings: sexual acts in an open grave, mentions of murder, talk of the dead, handjob (Sam receiving), public sex, fingering (reader receiving), defiling a gravesite, smoking, reader is kinda “manic-pixie-dreamgirl” coded my bad.

Masterlist

Sam Monroe hated his job.

Well, okay, maybe it wasn’t the worst in the world. He could’ve been made to wear a ridiculous uniform and flip burgers at the local diner down the street. Still, he wasn’t exactly thrilled to be restocking the same ten family movies all day every day.

Nobody ever came into the video store for anything interesting. It was always middle-aged moms with their whiny children, asking him where some shit Disney film was located while giving him disapproving glares.

Sure, maybe he always had vulgar music blaring through the speakers while some gory slasher played on the television, but what did they expect? He’d drive a stake through his own eye before he’d be forced to listen to some nonsensical bullshit about princesses and happily ever after.

The new Deftones record was his current pick, the music filling the silence of the vacant store as he leaned against the counter and sorted through the returns.

The excruciating sound of the bell above the door chimed through the grunge rock, making Sam cringe and curse underneath his breath. He didn’t even bother turning around as he mumbled, “We’re closing in five minutes.”

“Guess I’d better get to looking quickly, then,” you said, shrugging and smiling to yourself at the grumpy store clerk. You could only see the back of him, but he piqued your interest.

The sound of your melodic voice made Sam’s ears perk up and he finally turned around. His eyes widened a bit at the sight of you, not expecting to see someone his age. Especially not someone so pretty.

Your eyes traveled over the length of him as he turned to face you. He was cute — in that “I’m a total punk” kind of way.

Sam’s throat felt scratchy as he swallowed, his tongue fiddling with his labret piercing. He quickly turned down the music, giving you a sheepish half-smile.

He cleared his throat uncomfortably as a flush creeped up his neck and said, “Yeah, I guess so. I can help you search for something. We have a pretty big selection, though, so you might have to narrow it down a bit.”

His eyes scanned the length of you, hoping against hope that you wouldn’t ask him for the romance section or something equally as disgusting. He knew you’d never been in this store before, at least not when he’d been working. He definitely would’ve remembered you.

“I’m looking for a good scare,” you said, hooking your thumbs through your belt loops as you grinned at him. “Something to really get your pulse racing, ya know?”

Sam’s eyes lit up with excitement as he beamed at you. You were hot and into horror? He nearly came in his pants right then and there.

“Well, the horror section is right over there,” he said, pointing over to the corner. “You like found footage? I’d recommend that if you wanna get a decent scare. Unscripted, unedited, pretty terrifying.”

“Ah, so you���re a Blair Witch kinda guy, huh?” you asked, your lips quirking up in amusement. “Good to know.”

Sam’s grin grew as he nodded and said, “The Blair Witch Project was groundbreaking for its genre. It really had the entire population convinced that they were watching these kids die right in front of their eyes.” He leaned forward against the counter, trying to play it cool as he added, “I’m Sam, by the way. Sam Monroe.”

“Nice to meet you, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, repeating his full name.

You couldn’t help but notice the soft blush on his face that brought out the bright blue of his eyes. The color nearly matched the vibrant streak in his black hair. He had the whole look going for him — the eyeshadow, the painted nails, the clunky rings.

Sam felt flustered under your gaze, shifting nervously as he asked, “So, you got a favorite horror flick, or is this your first time diving into the abyss?”

You smirked and said, “Ironically, considering your whole ‘what’s your favorite scary movie’ question, I’m a sucker for a good slasher. Scream, to be exact.”

“Scream, huh? Classic. You’ve got good taste,” he said, raising an impressed brow. He pushed off the counter, walking around to stand next to you. “Let me show you some of my favorites, then.” He walked toward the horror section, gesturing for you to follow. “You’ve got your classics like Nightmare on Elm Street and Halloween. Oh, but one of my favorites would have to be Saw. There’s something about the torture and games that just gets me.”

Sam’s hands gestured wildly as he spoke, his excitement evident in his eyes. His heart raced, both from his love of horror and from being so close to you. He searched one of the shelves before deftly flicking one of the cases out and holding it up for you.

“The original Texas Chainsaw Massacre,” he said, presenting it to you. “This one’s something else. Give it a watch. It’ll make your skin crawl.”

You stuffed your hands in your back pockets, shrugging coyly as you stepped closer to him.

“I saw the 25th Anniversary in theaters,” you smirked, beaming proudly.

Sam’s eyes widened and he whistled, impressed.

“Damn, you’re a true horror fan,” he nodded.

He nervously licked his dry lips, trying to think of something to say next.

“So, what do you think? Are you gonna pick up any of these tonight, or should I recommend something else?” Sam asked, his eyes searching your face as he hoped to find interest in his suggestions.

You leaned closer toward him, glancing down at his lips before grinning and reaching around him to grab a movie from the shelf.

Sam’s breath hitched, his eyes flickering down to your lips before following your gaze to the movie you pulled.

You held up a copy of Creep, waving it back and forth.

“Found footage, right?” you winked, turning around to walk back to the counter.

“Found footage, exactly,” he croaked out, releasing a shaky breath. “Good choice.”

He quickly followed after you, going back around the counter to ring you up. His fingers fumbled clumsily on the keyboard as he said, “Your total comes out to $4.50.” He took the money and handed you the bag with the movie inside. “If, uh, if you ever need more recommendations or anything, just let me know. I’ll be around.” He licked his lips, giving you a small smile as he added, “It was nice meeting you.”

You took the bag from him, letting your fingers brush against his as you did. You nodded with a smile and said, “You, too, Sam Monroe.”

You turned around and began walking toward the door, but you stopped short. You shifted back toward him, gazing at him curiously.

You cocked your head and asked, “You wanna get out of here?”

Sam’s eyes widened as his throat went dry. He nodded, vehemently, and said, “Uh, yeah. Sure.” He glanced up at the clock, grinning sheepishly. “We’re technically closed now, anyways.” His grin grew as he stepped away from the counter. “Just give me a second to lock everything up.”

You nodded and walked outside, leaning against the hood of his car as you lit a cigarette. You took a drag and exhaled the smoke into the air, leaning your head back with a sigh.

Sam quickly locked up, the bell above the door jingling as he stepped outside. He caught the sight of you sitting on the hood of his car, cigarette in hand, and thought he must be dreaming.

He walked over, his gaze drawn to your lips as he asked, “You smoke?”

You opened your eyes, gazing up at him as you blew a puff of smoke in his direction.

“No,” you grinned, bringing the cigarette back to your lips to take another drag.

Sam’s lips curved into a grin and he raised a brow as he said, “Liar.”

He reached out, his fingers brushing your face as he took the cigarette from your lips. He brought it to his mouth, taking a long drag before exhaling and handing it back.

“So, what do you want to do?” Sam asked, moving to lean on the hood next to you. “I know a few bars that are still open.”

“Bars are boring, Sam Monroe,” you groaned, dramatically, throwing your head back. You inhaled the smoke again, releasing it in a sigh as you looked up at the full moon. “Why do you think I showed up here tonight?”

Sam chuckled, shaking his head in confusion as he answered, “Because you wanted to rent a horror movie?”

He took another drag from the cigarette, his curious gaze never leaving your face.

“That’s just the surface of it,” you told him, turning your head to face him. “I wanted something that could make me feel alive. I wanted to feel a spike of adrenaline, to get my pulse racing. A horror movie is a quick, easy fix — but a night of spontaneity with a stranger? That’s the ultimate risk to take.”

Sam’s heart thudded in his chest, his mind racing as he stammered, “Y-you want to take a risk with me?” He swallowed, the cigarette forgotten between his fingers. “Where do you want to go?”

His eyes searched yours, trying to gauge your intentions, but the excitement bubbling within him was undeniable.

You grinned, taking the cigarette back from him and drawing in one final breath before putting it out with your foot against the pavement.

“C’mon, Sam Monroe,” you said, grabbing his keys out of his hand and walking to the driver’s side of his car. “I know just the place.”

Sam blinked in a daze as he watched you get into his car. He walked, dumbfounded, to the passenger seat, climbing in as he gazed at you.

“Lead the way,” he said, shrugging as he shook his head with a small laugh.

You flicked on the radio as you pulled out of the parking lot, a low grungy melody playing through the speakers.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you began, reaching over to play with the rings on his fingers, “why do you like horror movies?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he glanced down at his hand. Your fingers felt soft against his skin and he cleared his throat as he glanced back up at the road.

“Horror movies are about more than just gore and jump scares. They’re about the human condition. They’re about fear itself, a primal state, and there’s something so raw and real about that.” He looked over at you a smile tugging at his lips. “The adrenaline, the suspense, the sense of danger…it’s all just an escape for me. A way to feel something real when everything else around me feels so fake.”

“Spoken like a tried and true broody punk,” you grinned, glancing over at him. “I get it, though. Sometimes you’ll do anything just to feel something.”

“I guess so,” he shrugged. “It’s better than feeling nothing, right?” He leaned back in his seat, watching the passing streetlights. “So, what about you? What gets your heart racing?”

“Picking up random strangers from sketchy video stores, obviously,” you joked, trailing your fingers up and down his arm.

Sam smiled, looking away as a blush tinged his cheeks.

“This place you’re taking me to,” he said, glancing back at you, “is it a secret or can I know where we’re going?”

“See for yourself,” you smirked, pulling off the road and parking the car. You turned the lights off and got out, walking around to where Sam stood by the passenger side. “C’mon, this way.”

You grabbed his hand, lacing your fingers through his as you led him through a small trail in the woods. As you walked through the clearing, a grin pulled at your lips at the sight of an old, dark cemetery.

Sam followed, his heart pounding as his eyes darted around the darkness. He swallowed thickly, squeezing your hand a little tighter as he stared up at the rusted gates, warily.

“A cemetery?” Sam questioned, his voice barely above a whisper. He took a deep breath before steeling himself and nodding. “Alright. I’ve never been one to turn down a dare.”

“That’s the spirit,” you grinned, tugging him further inside. You winked at him, pulling him closer to you as you whispered, “Don’t worry. I’ll protect you from the scary ghosts.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” Sam smirked, feeling his heart stutter as he was pulled into you. “So, what do we do in a place like this?”

His eyes took in the graves, the headstones, the darkness encompassing you. He couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine as he leaned closer to you, seeking comfort.

You pulled out a small flashlight and turned it on, shining it on the headstones. You saw one that called to you and you drug him towards it, reading the engravings.

Sam followed, his eyes drawn to the flashlight beam. When you stopped at the grave, he crouched down to get a better look.

Mary Hester

1934-1976

“What do you think her story was?” you asked Sam, nudging his shoulder.

“Who knows?” Sam shrugged. “Maybe she was a victim of murder. Or maybe she was the killer,” he mused, a grin playing at his lips. He glanced up at you and asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”

“Oh, absolutely,” you smirked, leaning forward to dust off the stone. “There’s no way that death is just a done deal, especially if you had unresolved dealings left on earth.”

Sam nodded, listening as he picked at some moss stuck in the writing.

“Besides,” you sighed, staring at the engraving, “if my entire life was reduced to a tiny dash between dates, I’d haunt the shit out of this world, too.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” he said, standing up and brushing off his jeans. “I guess we’ll never know until we reach the other side, huh?”

You laughed and shook your head, pulling him off to venture further through the old graves.

As you walked through the cemetery, occasionally stopping to check out the headstones, you kept spouting off different theories and stories of these lives past lived.

Your eyes widened as you saw a fresh pile of dirt near an open hole, and you pulled Sam toward it.

“Holy shit,” you gaped, looking down at the six-foot rectangular hole in the ground. “It’s a freshly dug grave.”

“That’s…that’s morbid,” Sam shivered, leaning closer as his curiosity got the best of him. “Do you think it’s for a new burial?” His grip tightened on your hand and he glanced around, his eyes flickering between the trees and the graves. “We should probably get out of here.”

“What’s wrong? Scared?” you teased, inching closer toward the grave. You shined your flashlight down into it, seeing nothing but dirt. “Relax, there’s nothing in it.”

“I’m not scared,” he scoffed, though his voice shook as he spoke. “I just don’t wanna get caught trespassing.”

He stepped closer, his eyes following yours as you shined the light into the grave. When he saw it was empty, he let out a sigh of relief and loosened his grip on your hand.

“Let’s go before someone sees us,” Sam said, tugging on your arm.

“Live a little, Sam Monroe,” you laughed, squeezing his hand playfully. “We’re not gonna get caught—”

You stopped mid-sentence, seeing the lights on a police car slowly patrolling the cemetery.

“Shit,” you cursed, smiling amusedly. “Spoke too soon, I guess. Hurry, let’s hide.”

You pulled him toward the vacant grave, crouching down before jumping into the hole.

Sam’s eyes widened, his heart racing wildly as he looked between the grave and the police car. He held his breath, squeezing his eyes shut as he jumped into the grave after you. You turned off the flashlight, bathing the two of you in darkness as you pulled him close to hide.

“Holy fuck,” he whispered. “I can’t believe we just did that. Do you think they’ll search the graves?”

“Not a chance,” you laughed, breathlessly, as you felt your adrenaline pumping. You placed your hand on his chest, grinning as you said, “You feel that? Feel how your heart is racing? It’s crazy. The irony of feeling so alive while standing in an open grave.”

“Yeah, it’s kind of exhilarating,” Sam breathed, his bright eyes never leaving yours. “Now what? Do we wait for the coast to be clear, or do we climb out and hope they don’t see us?”

You gazed up at him, biting your lip as you studied his face in the pale blue moonlight. You tugged on his arm, pulling him closer until his body was pressed against yours.

“Tell me, Sam Monroe,” you said, your voice low and playful. “Have you ever kissed someone in a cemetery?”

“Uh, can’t say I have,” he said, swallowing thickly as he released a shaky breath. His gaze flickered from your eyes to your lips as he added, “I guess there’s a first time for everything, right?”

“Right you are, Sam Monroe,” you grinned, gripping the front of his shirt and pulling him down to you.

You pressed your lips against his in a steady, sure kiss, letting one hand trail up to the back of his head.

Sam’s lips met yours eagerly, his heart pounding in his chest. His hands gripped your waist, pulling you closer to him as the kiss deepened.

He moaned against your lips, the taste of you intoxicating him. He broke the kiss, his breath coming out in heavy pants.

“I think we should climb out of here,” he whispered. “We could get caught down here.”

“That’s half the fun,” you smirked, pushing him back against the wall of dirt and kissing him again.

You moved your hands underneath his shirt, feeling the taught skin of his abdomen as you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth.

Sam groaned, his lips parting as his mind grew hazy with lust. He didn’t protest any further, his body arching into your touch as he kissed you, hungrily.

You moved your hands up to his chest, kissing across his jaw. You nipped at his earlobe before trailing open-mouth kisses down his neck.

“What do you say, Sam Monroe?” you breathed, trailing your tongue along his pulse point. “Wanna defile a grave?”

Sam’s breath hitched and he bit his lip, gripping your hips tighter. He tilted his head back as you kissed his neck, breathing out a soft moan.

“I…I’ll defile a grave for you,” he nodded, swallowing thickly.

His body was trembling with adrenaline and desire. He wanted nothing more than for you to keep touching him, the fear of being caught a distant thought.

“Good,” you grinned, leaning forward to kiss him again.

You let your tongue push past his lips, exploring his mouth as a soft moan sounded from your throat. You pulled him away from the wall of dirt, turning the two of you around so that you were the one pressed against it.

Sam’s moan echoed your own as his hand roamed over your body, his tongue tangling with yours. He stumbled back, allowing you to turn the both of you around, his body following your lead.

“Kinda poetic, isn’t it?” you panted, breaking the kiss to look up at him. “Performing a ritual of fertilization in the place where the dead will be laid to rest?”

“I’m all for some poetic justice tonight,” he breathed, leaning in to claim your lips again.

You could feel your heart pumping as you kissed him, fueling that need for something to make you feel alive.

You bit down on his bottom lip, soothing it with your tongue as you slid your hand down over his jeans to cup his erection.

Sam gasped against your lips, a needy groan sounding from his throat as he pressed his hips into your hand.

You reached down and undid the button of his jeans, lowering the zipper and pushing the material down his thighs. You pulled him out of his boxers, slowly stroking him as you grinned at his impressive size.

Sam whimpered as he felt your soft hand wrap around him, his eyes fluttering shut as he leaned his forehead against yours.

“Oh…” he moaned, dragging his teeth over his piercing as he looked at you with hooded eyes. “I need you.”

“Yeah?” you breathed, squeezing your fist around him as you stroked him faster. You swiped your thumb across his sensitive tip to gather the precum that had beaded there, causing him to hiss.

Sam’s hips bucked into your touch, his body trembling with desire. He gripped your hair, his head spinning with pleasure as he whispered, “Fuck, yes. Please.”

You used your free hand to guide his fingers to the button of your jeans, smirking at him as you continued to touch him. You leaned forward and kissed his neck again, sucking a sensitive spot until it left a deep purple mark against his pale skin.

His fingers fumbled with your jeans as you sucked on his neck, a groan escaping his lips as he tried to undress you.

“Touch me, Sam,” you panted, squeezing him tighter as you let your tongue trail up his neck, stopping to kiss the spot just beneath his ear.

“Anything for you,” he breathed, reaching his hand inside of your underwear to touch you. He moaned as his fingers made contact with your slick folds, brushing his lips against your ear as he whispered, “You’re so wet, fuck.”

You let out a soft moan into his ear, arching into his touch as he teased you. You grabbed his face and turned him back to you, kissing him with fervor as you stroked him.

“I guess cemeteries really do it for me,” you joked, laughing into the kiss.

“Mm, definitely,” he groaned, his hips bucking into your fist.

His fingers slid inside of you as his thumb stroked your clit, his free hand grabbing your leg and hiking it around his waist.

You whimpered, quietly, against his lips — his fingers striking all of the right chords. You used one hand to tug on his hair while the other moved faster over his length.

Sam moaned loudly, his breath hitching as his hips stuttered.

“Shh,” you grinned, looking up at him with a playful glint in your eyes. “You’ll wake the dead.”

“I don’t care about the dead right now,” he breathed, leaning in to kiss your neck as he curled his fingers inside of you.

You tilted your head back, moaning as you rocked your hips against his fingers. You held his head as you stroked him, twisting your fist over his tip each time.

Sam’s eyes rolled back as he moved his fingers faster, repeatedly brushing against that perfect spot inside of you. He buried his face in the crook of your neck as he whispered, “I’m close. I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” you whimpered, feeling that knot tightening in the pit of your stomach. The adrenaline was coursing through your veins, your heart racing as you chased the edge together. “Come with me. Let’s make these souls roll in their graves.”

“Fuck, yes, I’m right there,” he panted, moaning against you as he neared the precipice. He flicked his thumb in fast circles against your clit, his voice breaking off into a string of whimpers as his hips bucked. “I’m gonna…fuck.”

You pulled his head back, looking into his eyes as the band finally snapped. You clenched around his fingers just as his release spurted out of him and onto your hand. He voiced a strangled moan as he came, working you through your own high as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you.

You both milked every last drop from each other, your bodies sagging together as you came down.

Sam leaned against you, panting heavily as he rested his forehead against yours. You leaned back against the wall of dirt, grinning lazily as you said, “Well, that was a much better method of getting my heart racing.”

He trailed small kisses up your neck before kissing your lips softly as he whispered, “I’m glad I could make your heart race.”

You smirked up at him, bringing your hand up to your mouth to lick his release off of it. He watched with lust-blown eyes, biting his lip. You grabbed his hand, pulling his fingers out of you and bringing them up to your lips as well. You opened your mouth, sucking around them and moaning at the taste.

You pulled him into another kiss, letting him taste your combined flavor on your tongue. He groaned into your mouth, pulling you close to him.

You broke the kiss, glancing up out of the grave.

“I think the cops are gone now,” you giggled, kissing the tip of his nose.

“Good,” he grinned, laughing softly. “Let’s get out of here.”

He gave you a boost before climbing out as well, the both of you brushing the dirt off and adjusting your clothes. You walked back through the trail in the woods hand in hand, strolling peacefully in the moonlight.

When you got back to his car, you tossed him his keys back with a grin and got into the passenger side. He laced his fingers with yours as he drove back toward the video store, occasionally bringing the back of your hand up to his lips.

“This has got to be the strangest night I’ve ever had,” he laughed, softly.

“You’ll never forget it, though, will you?” you grinned, wiggling your eyebrows at him.

Sam shook his head, smiling as he said, “Never.”

He pulled back into the parking lot of the store, dimly lit by the flickering sign. He parked the car, turning toward you with a tender look.

You leaned forward and softly whispered, “Thanks for making me feel alive, Sam Monroe.”

His eyes fluttered shut as he felt your lips press against his.

“Anytime,” he whispered. “Can I get your name—?”

He opened his eyes, but you were no longer there. He glanced around, frantically, trying to see where you could’ve gone.

It was only then that he realized that his car had been the only one in the parking lot the entire night.

[foldbaron]

Here's Robbie's full monologue from TOTAL PARTY KILL that brought down the house and made the entire cast cry. And also me while I was at work. And a ton of people in the audience. According to Robbie during the CR Cooldown, this was not pre-planned at all. Even Matt had no idea what was happening. It was an idea that came to Robbie minutes before he did it, unscripted.

Happy 10 years, CR. I've never been so proud of people I don't know.

[myteavsricochet]

so you're telling me that this moment, which is perhaps one of the most beautiful and intense moments of the entire film, is unscripted?

ok fine, I'm fine, totally fine

[drunkkenobi]

Hi bb, ty for the prompt to write my thoughts!

So I can't get on tumblr at work anymore unless I go outside to get good signal on my phone so I have only been privy to what's going on here today from friends on discord. So maybe I'm missing some nuance or the what my mutuals think and I apologize in advance for that but I'm going to speak plainly.

This is the only way Watcher is going to survive.

The view counts have been steady through Mystery Files season 2 but they aren't, like, astronomical. A video with a million views nets a channel between $10,000 - $30,000. Guys. That's nothing for Watcher. They have to pay each of their 25+ employees a salary with insurance and benefits and for everything else their channel requires. Steven said in the video today that a season of Ghost Files costs hundreds of thousands of dollars. I don't think everyone is hearing that part and understanding how much money that is, especially compared to many other YouTubers they watch. I'm not an expert on other YouTubers but I look at the Sims people I watch. They are successful with views in the hundred k range because they are a company of one. Themselves and maybe paying a freelancer to help edit their videos. For one person, the stakes are lower and the potential for profit is higher! Especially for gamers that are filming in their homes. YouTubers like this, making niche content on the cheap, are who is going to make it in YouTube now.

Watcher is none of those things. They have, from day one, wanted to make high quality unscripted content. All of their shows are shows. They aren't just "Ryan and Shane do [thing]" or "Steven eats [whatever]". They are shows, like ones you see on cable TV or any streamer. And shows are not cheap. Unscripted is cheaper, sure, than scripted. But that doesn't mean cheap. Especially not with the sheer production value we've seen on all their shows, in particular Ghost Files (hundreds of thousands of dollars). That is how much something like Ghost Adventures costs, which is on Travel Channel, an actual TV network that puts up all those costs.

So. That's why Watcher has to pivot to survive.

I think it's a great idea, personally. And yes, I am in a position where I can financially afford it no problem, which I know is a privilege! I am very lucky in that regard. And I understand that many people are upset they won't see the boys as easily on YouTube anymore. That is valid! But they have openly said they are totally fine with password sharing and I think that's a great way to cut down on costs for some folks. Also right now there's a great deal on the yearly sub for early subscribers. $40 for a year is cheaper than any streaming service and it doesn't go to anyone other than Watcher.

I understand that people feel hurt and blindsided, but I think Watcher is also feeling this too. They have been so excited about this and being able to make whatever they want without having to worry about sponsors and now they're mostly seeing anger directed their way. Especially at Steven. Steven is not rich. You know who's rich? David Zaslav, a man who is single-handedly ruining Warner Brothers and making himself a billionaire while he's at it. THAT is the kind of person we should be directing our anger at streaming prices and quality of the media landscape at. Not one small business that is just trying to survive so they can continue paying their employees.

And one more thing. I've seen folks saying they'd rather watch more ads than pay and while I get that, that's not going to help Watcher make what they want. YouTube famously demonetizes videos with swears which is why I can't watch a video with DRAG QUEENS without every other line being bleeped and Watcher has been so good about not bleeping their content because they know we would hate it. And YouTube does this because of advertisers. Advertisers only want to appeal to the most broad of audiences so that means not supporting anything slightly left of center. Having to deal with ads sucks from the creator perspective and does not help them in the long run.

Anyway, this is all a bit rambling, but these are my thoughts on WatcherTV. I'm extremely excited to subscribe and make them make more Weird Wonderful World. I hope to see you all there.

[theharddeck]

it'd be a sweet situation (bob floyd x fem!reader)

pairing: bob floyd x fem!reader (no y/n)

synopsis: what's better than finding out the WSO you've had a secret crush is the same audio erotica creator that you've been crushing on for months? getting to watch him record new content...and maybe get involved yourself

word count: 5.9k

warnings: 18+ explicit content, minors DNI: audio porn, a truly absurd amount of dirty talk, overuse of pet names, oral sex (m and f!receiving), PiV penetration, some condescension and some dumbification.

A/N: not edited, not beta-ed, we publish for affirmation and speed babyyyy.

this post is a part 2 of my fic do you wanna make somethin' of it -- thanks for the love on the original!! hope y'all like! i may be planning a third so lmk if this scratches the itch or if we want breeding kink!bullriderrhett

When you asked Bob if you could listen to him record, he blinked at you, his expression somewhere between flattered and surprised, as a pink spread over his cheeks.

You loved when Bob blushed. 

It was the sweetest flush of pink, just so precious, and usually belied by something or another. 

Like when the rest of his expression was innocent, but his hand was stroking the inside of your thigh underneath a table at the Hard Deck. 

Like when you were begging him to let you come, praising every part of him that you could think of, and he looked up at you in wonder from between your legs. 

Like when he asked you to be “his girl”, make it official after a couple months, and you’d agreed before he could get the rest of his prepared speech out.  

Bob hadn’t posted in the last couple months (he explained that like you didn’t know), and his followers had been asking for something, anything, and you’d agreed that maybe something unscripted was the way to go. 

So now you leaned back against the wall Bob’s bed was pushed up against, watching him move around his small room with a focused expression on his face. He’d untangled cords, set up a microphone with a windscreen, and a smile played about your lips, watching him. You were just so fond of him. He was kind, he was sweet, he was hot and he was yours. 

You’d agreed to sit across the room, give him his space, but you had a sneaking suspicion this was going to really do it for you. You just hoped he wouldn’t be totally unaffected either.

He settled into his desk chair, cleared his throat, and started checking the microphone. He had a lamp set up over the desk, and it cast a golden glow over him. His brow was furrowed as he double checked his equipment, and you admired the way his tshirt fell over his shoulders, as he straightened things around his desk.

You could tell he was nervous. You could see it in the tightness of his expression, but you knew you’d both like this, so you smiled reassuringly over at him.

When he caught your eye, Bob smiled too, like he couldn’t help it.

“You ready?” he asked.

You nodded. “I’m excited.”

Bob huffed a laugh, shaking his head at you, at himself, the situation. 

He cleared his throat, before leaning back. From where he was sitting at the desk. He could just catch the edge of the door to his bathroom, which he swung shut. 

“Honey?” Bob called, his face still slightly turned from the mic, so it sounded far away. You imagined the door he’d slammed was a front door swinging shut, and instead of a long day of post-flight reviews, he’d been out on the ranch. 

“There y’are,” Bob said, closer to the mic now, but he was looking at you. You wrinkled your nose at him, and his lips quirked in an attempt to not smile. This was silly, it was fun, and you adored that he was bringing you into the fantasy with him. 

His head tipped to the side, golden hair falling in front of his glasses as he let out a long sigh. 

“God, you’re so beautiful.”

He said it so softly, like it was just an observation, fact, and you rolled your eyes at him. You were rewarded by his smile, beaming. 

“Nah, don’t give me that,” Bob shook his head at you, and you loved him like this, easy and light, “don’t roll your eyes like it isn’t true. Y’know the kinda day I had?”

You raised an eyebrow, and Bob was still smiling, and you felt like it was an inside joke between the two of you. Whatever he was going to say as Rhett, you knew it would be about Miramar. 

He started ad libbing, in that drawl of his that normally only came out when he was exhausted, and you let the fantasy wash over you. He might be talking about cattle and fence posts, but he meant FA-18s and potentiometers. 

“And then here you are,” Bob said, his voice getting softer. “No matter the day I had, no matter what else, I get to come home to you. Doesn’t seem fair, does it? How’d I get so lucky, hmm?”

You shook your head at him; you were the lucky one.

“The luckiest,” Bob said, after a pause, like how you remembered he’d always waited on his recordings. Being with him now, knowing him how you did, you wondered if this’d been how he’d imagined it—with you here, with him, answering him. 

“You missed me too?” Bob asked, almost curious. “Honey…don’t give me that look, come on. I know you’ve got supper on…”

The use of ‘supper’ was just darling, and it whisked you deeper into the fantasy. One where your world started and ended with Rhett, looking after him as he looked after you. Him keeping you safe, you keeping him taken care of. 

In that fantasy, there was always time. 

“Ah, you missed me like that,” Bob said, his voice dropping deeper. “That’s a pretty thought, isn’t it– my girl, in my house, just waitin’ for me to get home.”

His voice was almost dreamlike, and you shivered while he paused, waiting for the audience to say something.

“No, that’s not a fair question, honey; I always miss you,” he said, his head tilting back as he looked at you. “Miss how you look at me…how you say my name…how pretty your hair looks in this light…”

Bob laughed, a soft sound. 

“You must’ve really missed me,” he teased, “if my voice is doing it for you like that. Bet you’re already wet for me, just listenin’ to me talking about wanting you, hmm? You gonna show me?”

And you hadn’t planned to, you really hadn’t. 

But when Bob asked, acting like Rhett and talking like that, it made you want to. You pulled down your sweatpants before you could think about it, rewarded by the way Bob’s eyes widened like he hadn’t expected it either. He swallowed visibly, and he cleared his throat. 

“Shit, honey, I didn’t think you’d actually…do we have time? Before supper?”

You smiled at him, lifting a shoulder like sure, you could make time. Bob’s eyes twinkled as he grinned back at you, like even through the ridiculous pretense of recording an audio, he saw you, and was glad you saw him. 

“Alright, sweet girl, easy,” he said, his voice breathy, like you were rushing him. “Yeah, that’s it, feel me through my jeans.”

He palmed himself, a soft gasp slipping past his parted lips at the pressure of his grasp. You loved Bob’s hands, loved how they moved and worked over you, and seeing him grabbing himself was something else. He was a proportional man, but the bulge growing underneath his jeans didn’t seem any smaller, relative to such enormous hands.

“You can take me out,” Bob said, like it was a favor he was doing you, and you weren’t sure it wasn’t, as he slid the zipper down slowly. You’d seen him what felt like hundreds of times over the last few months, but you found yourself holding your breath as he shifted his hips to slide his jeans over his hips. He left them on just above his knees, and you could see the outline of his dick pressing against his boxers. 

God, he looked good. 

Slightly slouched in a chair, half undressed, his eyelids heavy as he looked through his lashes at you. He gave himself a lazy stroke over his boxers one more time, then pulled his cock out, sighing as his fingers wrapped around it. You pressed your lips together to trap in the pleased whimper that was threatening to escape; you couldn’t help it. 

Bob reached for the lube, squeezing a little on his hand away from the microphone before he spread it along his cock. He moved slowly, so no wet sounds could be heard, not yet, but you watched his shoulders drop slightly at the pleasure of the softened glide. 

“Does that feel good?” you asked it softly, quiet enough and from across the room, knowing you wouldn’t be heard, but at the sound of your voice, Bob’s eyes fluttered close. 

“Fuck, honey,” he whispered, into the mic, but straight to you, “yeah, you feel so good.”

You loved that he meant it, that even though it was his hand, it was you that was making him feel this way. 

You slipped a hand into your underwear, a whine slipping past your lips as you felt you were already wet. Bob’s eyes flew opened, his lips parting as he realized what you were doing. Even though he wasn’t touching you, you felt him, and it was always going to end here, wasn’t it? Bob’s sweet, sexy voice, you acting like it didn’t affect you, and then touching yourself with him. 

“Sweet girl,” Bob breathed, and you heard it in his voice, his pride in you. You loved being that for him, being here with him. “You look so fucking pretty like this. In our house, that pretty hand wrapped around my cock—”

He broke off as you shifted, peeling your underwear away and running your fingers through your folds so he could see. You loved the image he was describing—coming home to each other, finding relief in each other’s bodies. A cowboy or a pilot, either way, this man was yours, and he made you feel so good. 

“That’s it, honey,” Bob’s voice sounded gruff, and your eyes fell closed as you lost yourself in the fantasy. “Fuck, honey, your hands…you feel so good,  shit. Here, honey, let’s get you out of this, yeah? Lemme play with that pussy, while you’re takin’ such good care of my cock.”

He could already see you, so it was just for the fantasy, but your knees fell open as you spread yourself open for him. Bob groaned, and your fingers brushed over your clit. You’d done this before, this scene he was describing, even if it was slightly different, so it was easy to envision. Both of you braced against the nearest wall, unable to look away from his cock in your hands, and him reaching for you, wanting to bring you the same pleasure. The way your fingers looked so small around his cock, the way his hand fit between your thighs, both of your knees going weak. 

“So wet for me,” Bob praised, and your mouth dropped open as your fingers dipped between your folds, like his would. “You’re so perfect, so warm and ready for me…fuck, sweet girl, you make me want more than your hand.”

You moaned softly, your head falling back against the wall behind his bed. You wanted that too, more, and your hand wasn’t enough. 

“I’ll take you to bed later,” Bob promised. “Lay you down, take my time with this pretty pussy, fill her up…ah, honey, fuck, I can feel you clenching on my fingers…How’d I get so lucky, hmm? You’re so perfect, so good for me, so fucking good for me…”

Bob trailed off with a moan, and you heard his hand speed up as he continued to praise you. You coveted the sounds, and more than that, you finally understood what he’d meant the first time you’d been together, because you were jealous of a fantasy. Anyone who listened to this recording, they’d hear Rhett telling them they were perfect, so good for him, and they could think on that all they wanted but Bob, Bob was yours. 

Bob’s head fell back as his hand gripped his cock tightly. You saw his thighs tensing against the floor, and the column of his neck was exposed in the most inviting way so you took it as just that—an invitation. 

“Honey, fuck, what are you doing?” Rhett’s reaction and Bob’s were the same, as he realized you were kneeling on the ground, your hand closing around his cock. Your knees spread on the hard floor, your fingers wet from your own desire, and wrapped around him. Bob moaned, a disbelieving, overcome sound, as you guided him into your mouth. His eyebrows creased worriedly, and his eyes darted to the microphone, but as your lips closed around his tip, you held his eyes, and you moaned. 

Loud. 

Loud enough for him to feel it, loud enough that you knew the mic picked up on it, loud enough that he knew it wasn’t an accident.  

“Shit, baby,” Bob groaned, his voice low, “that mouth…” 

And you would’ve smirked, but your mouth was too full of him. God, you loved how he felt. Heavy and thick and you didn’t love the taste of lube, but you worked your hand over his length and contented yourself with playing with his sensitive head. He just had the prettiest cock. It was leaking now, for you, and you lapped at him, traced each ridge and divet, teased the veins and pumped his length with your hand. 

Bob was gasping, and when you looked back up at him, you couldn’t miss the adoration on his face. He looked at you like he couldn’t believe you were real, like he knew you were just as possessive as he was, and it made him even harder for you. That heat in his expression had your other hand sneaking between your legs, and Bob’s hand lifted to your hair, brushing it back. His big hand settled on top of your head, not controlling not forcing, but needing to touch you. Your thighs spread and you moaned again as your fingers brushed over your heat while he sat heavy on your tongue. 

“That’s right, sweet girl,” Bob rasped, his voice truly wrecked. “Keep playing with yourself. Ah, honey, I’m not gonna last long. Wanted you all day, and now those lips around my cock, fuck—”

He broke off as he hips pushed his cock farther into your mouth. As he did, you realized you couldn’t taste the lube on his cock anymore, only your arousal and the musky salt of him. God, you loved it. You tasted so good together, and you knew it was the farmwife fantasy, but you loved being this for him. Like you’d just been waiting for him to come home and get his hands in your hair, his cock in your mouth. 

“You couldn’t wait till after dinner, could you?” Bob grunted, a hint of condescension creeping into his voice that made your eyes fall close. “You make me feel so good, honey, shit. That mouth, sweet girl, it’s so good. You’re taking me so well, like you needed this just as bad as I did—did you? Did this get you through the day too? Knowing it’d end with you on your knees for your man, his fat cock in your mouth?”

His glasses were sliding down his nose, his chest was heaving, and even tough his words were tinged with condescension, they couldn’t disguise the worship underneath. Each stroke of your tongue, hollowing of your cheeks, pulled a hitched breath or a soft gasp from him, and you loved each one. Your hand lifted from between your legs to his thigh, your nails digging into the pale hair there as you took him deeper as Bob groaned. 

“Fucking hell, what you do to me, honey,” he groaned, his voice tight, and you really didn’t think you needed to breathe. You took him until your nose brushed the hair at his base, and Bob was panting like he’d just pulled 10 Gs, and he couldn’t tell which way was up. He moaned as you held there, his hand slipping from the top of your head to the back of your neck, cradling you. His thumb brushed the front of your throat, feeling where you were stretched around him, an he moaned again, a wrecked, gorgeous sound. You loved that he was past words, that everyone listening was just going to hear his gasps, those beautiful moans, and know you were here. Between his thighs, hands and marks on him, claiming him as yours. 

“I’m gonna come, baby,” he gasped, and you felt your chest swell with pride, humming lightly so he knew it was okay. You pulled back, bobbing your head, and his moans grew longer until his hand moved again, holding your head steady as his cock jolted. He came hard down your throat, his warm release spilling down your throat, a claim of his own. You swallowed him down, your mouth loosening around his sensitive cock, and licking at him as he pulled out. You licked lightly around his cock, placing a teasing kiss on his tip, and Bob groaned softly.

You couldn’t hide how smug you felt. 

That was your man, weak from the orgasm you gave him, sounding wrecked and satisfied from your mouth.  

“You’re lookin’ real proud of yourself there,” Bob said, his voice gruff again. You sat back on your heels, smiling up at him. He chuckled softly, pulling you up as he leaned down to kiss you. His tongue swept into your mouth greedily, chasing a taste of the release you’d pulled out of him, and you loved that he was just as filthy as you were. His hands fell from your head to the tops of your shoulders, and he caressed the soft skin of your upper arms lightly. 

“I’d better return the favor, hmm?” he murmured against your lips, and you opened your eyes to catch the spark of mischief in his eyes before his hands curled under your arms and he lifted you. He moved you quicker than you understood what was happening, and then you were in his seat, he was on his knees, and he wasted no time in diving between yours. 

Your back arched off the chair at the first sweep of his tongue over your cunt, and you clapped a hand over your mouth, but it was too late for that. 

“Absolutely fucking not,” Bob pulled back to say, his longer fingers winding around your wrist and pulling it away from your mouth. “You had me moanin’ like a virgin when you got your lips on my cock, and I deserve to hear the same from you. Let me hear those sweet sounds, honey.”

His voice was deep, dark and teasing, but he was watching you carefully, and you knew if you said you were uncomfortable, he’d stop. Just like you knew you wouldn’t ask him to, because you wanted your claim on him on the recording. Not just that you’d pulled that orgasm from him, but that he was worshiping you, that you were his as much as he was yours. 

You let your hand fall away, and Bob smiled sweetly at you before his mouth was back between your thighs. His tongue made you forget about the recording in no time, as his tongue worked over you. Bob always went at oral like it was end game, like it was a favor to him, like he never wanted to leave. He kissed and sucked, licked and teased, and soon you were panting with each stroke of his tongue. 

“Y’sound so good, angel,” he murmured into your cunt, his voice thick, and you moaned as he pressed teasing kisses over your lower stomach and thighs. “How’s it feel?”

“So good, baby,” you whispered, your fingers winding into his hair and pulling him back into your pussy. He went, chuckling, but eagerly resuming his efforts.  He spread you open with his thick fingers, his tongue delving into your cleft as he lapped at you, chasing the arousal that he’d stoked with just his words, and you felt like you were melting into the chair. 

“Let me have it then,” Bob said, pulling back. His glasses were fogged as he looked up at you, and you moaned at the sight. His strong fingers stroked over you, and his tongue darted out to lick his lips, like he was desperate for your taste. “Come for me, sweet girl, come on my fingers and my tongue, open this sweet cunt for me, let me feel it…”

His fingers kept teasing over your slit as his lips closed over your clit. His tongue circled your sensitive bud as his fingers stroked over you and you pulled his hair tightly, remembered not to call out his name at the last minute, and came with a cry. You were trembling, melting and soaring and shaking, your legs over Bob’s broad shoulders as he fucking drank your orgasm from between your legs. He didn’t let up, continuing his gentle caresses until your orgasm sputtered out, leaving you thrumming and sated. 

“So fucking pretty, sweet girl,” Bob was whispering, his touch gentling. “You did so good for me, didn’t you, so beautiful and sweet. God, you’re perfect.”

You opened your eyes to find him looking up at you, a soft smile on his face. You brushed his hair from off his forehead, glad his glasses had cleared enough for you to see his beautiful eyes. You were going to kiss him, a reversal of your earlier positions, when you recognized the rolling motion in his shoulders. You looked down and…shit, he was hard again. Your jaw dropped open as you looked up at Bob, in time to see a blush spreading across his cheeks. 

“Are you…” you asked, trailing off when your voice was raspier than you expected. “Can you go again?” 

“We don’t have to,” Bob mumbled, almost sheepish. “I, uh…I wasn’t kidding, I really did miss you today, and you sounded so good, and it’ll go away, we can—”

You kissed whatever asinine alternative he was going to offer off his lips. Your man was hard again because he’d worked himself up while eating you out? Fuck that, you were gonna have him now. 

You both moaned into the kiss, the taste of each other mingling and this time when Bob moved you, you let him guide you. He pulled you to stand, his hands holding you steady as he took his seat again, then pulled you to straddle him. You kissed him as you settled on his thighs, his hands still adjusting things around the desk, and letting you focus on him. God, he was something else. So beautiful and sweet and strong, and then hung to boot, and you felt the a spark reignite from your earlier orgasm. Your hands trailed over his tshirt, his broad neck and the soft curl of his hair at the back of his neck, and you leaned back when Bob leaned back to pull on a condom. 

“You just had that handy?” you teased him, though it lost some of its sting since you were so breathless, “You kept a condom in your pocket all day?”

Bob huffed a laugh, even as his ears heated again. 

“I don’t think you get it, honey,” he said, pausing as he rolled the condom down his length, “every moment I’m not in this warm cunt, I’m wishing I was, and planning for when I can be. If that means carrying a condom around all day, so as soon as it’s over, I can slide into this sweet pussy, then yeah, that’s what I’m gonna do.”

You smiled at him, knowing you looked infatuated and dopey, but basking in his shameless enthusiasm. It felt good to be with him, good to be adored by him, like the sweetest affirmation. Any teasing remark was quieted when Bob shifted, prompting you to rise over him. You both held your breath as he lined himself up with you, and you braced your hands on his shoulders as you started to sink down on him. 

God, you’d never get used to the stretch of him. 

Loosened by your orgasm and practice, your stomach still tensed at the pressure of his cock easing into you. Bob’s hands were stroking soothingly over the small of your back, and his forehead wrinkled as he frowned, stopping himself from rutting up into you. 

“Fuck, sweetheart,” Bob groaned. “You’re still so tight, you feel so good.”

You only managed to whimper as you continued to sink onto him. He felt so thick, broad, and you loved how full you felt with him. Like a puzzle piece, like a safe haven, like the only place you wanted to be. Your thighs were burning when you finally took him all the way, and you could’ve cried from how full you felt. You wound your arms around his neck and Bob mirrored your motion, his arms bracketing around your lower back. 

“Beautiful girl,” Bob soothed you, his words as much an embrace as his tight grasp. “Y’feel so good around me, shit. Tell me it’s this good for you, honey?”

“So full,” you managed, somehow breathless. “I feel you so deep, baby.”

“So deep,” Bob agreed, kissing you lightly. His lips brushed over yours in soft kisses until the tension faded, until you were squirming in anticipation, until you needed more than the deep press of him.  

“Need you to move,” you whispered against his lips, and you felt Bob’s warm breath as he laughed. 

“I don’t know, honey,” he teased, leaning back, languid. “I tried to get you out of this, but you’re the one who needed it…maybe you should ride me for it, if you want this cock so bad.”

Even as he goaded you, he lifted his hips into yours slowly. You whimpered at each slow push of his hips, punctuated by another taunt. 

“You couldn’t wait to get your hands on me…” he whispered on another stroke, impossibly deep he was inside of you, “then your mouth…then you had me on my knees for you, sweet girl, and that still wasn’t enough for you, was it?”

The drag of his cock was so slow it was intoxicating. You were so full, and he was pushing deeper, and you could barely focus on his words. It was so slow and you needed more, and you weren’t one to back down from a challenge, so you rolled your hips. 

It was Bob who groaned this time, at the swivel of your hips and the way you clenched around him. 

“I remember it differently, baby,” you told him, even though your voice was shaking. You worked your hips faster, the rhythm you wanted, Bob’s thick cock filling you just right, at a tempo you knew would get you there in no time…if you could sustain it. 

“Tell me,” Bob said, his hands falling to your hips, supporting your motion as you writhed over him. 

Your hand wound into his hair, and you smiled when his lashes fluttered as you pulled lightly. Your hips were smacking down into his as you worked yourself on his cock, fast and desperate, chasing. 

“I remember,” you panted, licking your lips and smiling as his eyes tracked the motion, “Remember you whining from my mouth…cumming down my throat after a minute or two…rutting against the air with your mouth between my thighs.”

“Jesus Christ,” Bob moaned, and you grinned at him, triumphant, as his hands tightened on your hips. He clenched you tightly, planted his feet and drove his own thighs up to meet you. The sound of your ass hitting his thighs was loud, but not as much as the wetness between you. It was audible, the proof of the desire you drove each other to, the desperation and need and the fact that neither of you was easily sated, except in the other. 

“Give it to me,” you whispered and Bob groaned, his head nuzzling into your neck. He licked at the skin there, teeth grazing over you, both of you gasping for breath as your bodies writhed against each other. He was so deep inside of you, bruising and conquering and he was everything. You craved the stretch of him, but more than that, it was just him. His heavy cock, his strong hands, his soft whine that was building. You could feel your thighs weakening, but not Bob. He drove up into you with a hunger, like he needed this pace, this release, just as much as you did. 

“You’re so fucking warm, sweet girl,” he gritted. “God, you feel so good. I’m losing my mind, honey, it’s so good. You’re clenching down on me, makes me not want to leave. Gonna stay in this cunt, spill here and stay here till I’m hard again, then do it again.”

You moaned, tightening around him. You wanted that, wanted him, only him. The circle of his arms, the press of his cock, the smell of his sweat and the brush of his lips.  

“Do it,” you begged, and that was what it was: begging. You needed it, needed him, and didn’t care how desperate you sounded about it. “Let me feel it, baby, please, come in me.”

“Fuck,” Bob moaned, properly moaned. “Ya had to say please, didn’t you, so sweet like that, how the hell do I say no to you—can you come with me, honey? Don’t want to get there without you…”

You whimpered at his words and the way he was thrusting up into you. You were so close, so fucking close and you were certain you’d shatter before you got there but then Bob pulled you slightly forward. Only slightly, and without changing the rhythm of his hips, he pulled you forward so your clit was brushing against him. You cried out, your arms scratching at his back at the added stimulation, at the way he was rewriting. 

“That’s right, honey, shit,” Bob whispered, each stroke of his hips a brush against your clit. Your legs were shaking, you were pretty sure you were crying, and the only thing you could comprehend was Bob’s voice and arms around you. “Scratch me up, hold me to you, I’m not going anywhere. I can feel you getting closer, honey, please tell me you’re close. God, you feel so good, I’m gonna cum so hard, I need it to be with you—please, honey, fuck—”

He clenched his arms around your body, holding you tightly to him, the way he did when he was about to cum and so caught up in it that he wasn’t worried about holding you too tightly. You moaned as he ground up into you, his cock thrusting into you and his strong arms banding you to him. You went limp as you came, moaning wordlessly, and you felt him relax as he recognized it, his back arching as he pumped into you roughly. He was practically rutting into you and you curled around him, craving it, the roughness and rightness of him. Bob shouted roughly as he emptied himself into the condom, a beautiful sound of abandon that made you nuzzle into him, even as your toes curled.   

The room was quiet, except for the sounds of both of you catching your breath. Bob’s hand was running lightly over your back as you nestled into his chest, and your hand was playing with the edge of his shirt in front of you. You bit your lip, trying not to laugh at the current state of undress, but of course, Bob felt you shaking. 

“What is it?” he asked gruffly.

“We’re just out here, pooh-bearing it,” you said, pulling on his shirt for emphasis. “We couldn’t even…I don’t know, it’s just silly. Half dressed but matching, without pants.”

Bob chuckled, his chest shaking as he pulled you tighter to him, before shifting to press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Of course,” he said dryly. “I’m trying to think of a clever way to say ‘that was the hardest I’ve cum in I don’t know how long’, and you’re here thinking about children’s cartoons.”

“I also thought that was very very good,” you said, consolingly, patting his chest. 

Bob caught your hand in one of his, pressing a kiss to your knuckles like a gallant night of old. He sighed, kissed them again, then twined his fingers with yours. “I like coming home to you.”

You blinked, then froze. “Oh my god, we’re still recording!!!”

Bob laughed, a sound so sweet and joyous that you couldn’t help but join him. He reached over and flipped off the microphone, even as you frantically tried to remember if you’d said his name. 

“We don’t have to use it,” Bob reassured you, pulling you back into his arms as he resettled. “Or I can edit it, or really, whatever you’re comfortable with. Regardless, not for recording’s sake, but just for posterity: that was fucking hot. Unreal. I’m the luckiest guy alive.”

You smiled, not sure if you were embarrassed you’d forgotten, or proud of the both of you. 

“You should’ve kept recording while you said that,” you mumbled, and Bob pulled back to look at you. He didn’t say anything for a moment, then a slow grin split his face. 

“You’re jealous,” he said, pleased and proud, and you rolled your eyes before he resettled you on his chest. “I wasn’t sure if that’s what you were thinking, I thought it might’ve been.”

You pursed your lips. “We should publish it.”

You couldn’t see his face, but you could tell he was smiling. 

“Let’s give it a listen first, honey,” he said, appeasingly. “Make sure you’re okay with it, then we can decide if you want it out there. For me, I think it’ll do numbers…but I only care about an audience of one.”

It was cliche.

So cliche it was cheesy, but you smiled to yourself at his sweet words. That was how you felt too…but it couldn’t hurt to remind the world that they might like the idea of Rhett, but you were the one with the real deal. 

You were pretty sure that, regardless of what Bob said, you were the lucky one. 

I Missed You Too It’s been a long day out on the ranch, and I can’t wait to get home to my girl. Turns out, she’s been waiting for me, too. [M4F] [Overheard] [Couple] [Oral] [Finish Inside] [Strong Language] [Moaning] [Love Confession] [SFX]

tattedlily: AN OVERHEARD FROM RHETT IS THIS REAL OH MY GOD SORRY TO MY COWORKERS I’M LISTENING AT MY DESK 

bucklebunny69: Don’t mind me, just losing my mind over the fact that rhett has a gf and they sound so hot together

luvbug1985: SHUT UP THIS SOUNDS SO REAL

sarahwasnthere: okay but do y’all want a third orrrrrrr

sweeeeeetgirl: overheards aren’t normally my thing, but for rhett i’ll try anything and i think i’m converted?? I couldn’t hear her at first but the way HE changed like you could hear when she got involved i’m gonna be sick holy shit 

babygrl902: when will someone fuck me like this 

justjennn: okay but like the chemistry between the two of them?? Like they’re so reactive to each other i hope you guys do more!!

luvbug1985: nope i had to comment again bc the bi panic this audio caused?? Hearing her gasp/moan in response to his dirty talk is tewwwwwww much i immediately need more

//

tagging: @sometimesanalice @laracrofted @hangmanssunnies @withahappyrefrain @cheekymcgrath @mxgyver @lewmagoo @sebsxphia @callsign-fangirl @callsignspark @daggerspare-standingby @rhettabbotts @teacupsandtopgun @attapullman @yuckosworld @skteaiy @yanna-banana @briseisgone @gigisimsonmars @milesmillergf @katiedid-3 @hangmandruigandmav @3tabbiesandalab @marchingicenotes7 @callsignmedusa @ryebecca @tgmavericklover @cottagecori @becks-things @mulletmcghee @straightforwardly @high-speed-r @rcmupout @purelyfiction @fairyheart @sunsetsimpsblog @angelbabyyy99 @cremebruleequeen @marvel-djarin @sgt-barnesveins @supernaturaldawning @echo-ethe @sunlitide @alilstressyandlotdepressy @hughesvolpe @aczhang777 @saltsicklover @whatislovevavy @phoenix-rising-starbird-one @briseisgone @mycobrakai1972 @hangmanshoney @sorchathered @lewmagoo @katfanfic @bringbacktim @b-bradshaw

[sexiestpodcastcharacter]

Sexiest Podcast Character 2024 — Unscripted Undefeated Bracket — Round 4−1

Propaganda

Pickman (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle):

Pickman! Shes tall! Shes a butch lesbian! She was raised by a train and despite fighting trains had a DEEP respect and affinity for them and the Shape! She’s got a giant gun. She’s shipped with the conductor(possible pet) of a “domesticated” train. She murdered a capitalist.

VOTE PICKMAN

Lark A.K.A. Clara Mire (Midst):

monster hunter (witch, fortune teller, body guard, burglar, line cook, babysitter, etc., she's had a lot of jobs)

lone wolf and a total badass with a soft spot for her dog Landlord and the young girl whose life she saved after the moon exploded

has vague and unresolved sexual tension with that girl's dad (they fucked)

Additional propaganda below the cut:

Pickman (Friends at the Table: Sangfielle):

She's a giant goat woman who is a knight that fights trains and refuses to speak more than like five words in a row

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

Lark A.K.A. Clara Mire (Midst):

[major spoilers] killed the head of a cult as a child to protect her mom and has been on the run since

has a cool black scar (that's a whole thing dw about it just listen to Midst) that's slowly taking over her body

canonically poc, age 62, and cool as fuck

This is propaganda for all the female characters. Voters please remember how pretty all women are and factor that into every single vote you make. Thank you.

[asthroophile]

curtain call of the heart

iii. unscripted

pairing brant x fem!reader, modern high school au, mutual pinning, childhood friends to lovers, might be ooc

wc: 2.416

summary: being friends with the theater club president means you have to accept the fact that you'll get dragged into acting in plays.

previous next...

the next day at school, things felt different. maybe it was just you. maybe you were overthinking it. maybe it was because of brant’s words last night— “then don’t focus on them. just focus on me.”

what the hell was that supposed to mean?

you groaned, burying your face in your arms as you sat at your desk.

"morning, y/n.”

you immediately jolted up, almost knocking over your pencil case. brant stood next to your desk, grinning as usual, but there was a flicker of amusement in his eyes.

“you okay? you look like you just had a heart attack.”

you scowled. “maybe don’t sneak up on me next time.”

brant shrugged, pulling out the chair in front of you and sitting backwards on it, resting his arms on the backrest. “it’s literally morning. i didn’t sneak up on you. i just walked into class like a normal person.”

“you and ‘normal’ don’t belong in the same sentence.”

brant let out a laugh. “damn, you wound me.”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the small smile creeping up.

brant leaned in slightly, resting his chin on his arms. “sooo, about what i said last night—”

you immediately stiffened, “we’re not talking about that.”

he blinked, then grinned. “oh? so you have been thinking about it.”

you groaned, pushing his face away. “get lost.”

but before he could keep teasing, the bell rang, and your conversation was cut short.

later that evening, you found yourself once again in the theater room.

you weren’t even sure why you came today. brant hadn’t dragged you this time. he didn’t force you. and yet, here you were, standing at the back of the room, watching as the club members prepared for rehearsal.

brant stood in the center, effortlessly commanding the space. His presence was magnetic—even you had to admit that.

“alright, everyone! before we start, i have an announcement.”

the chatter died down as all eyes turned to him brant exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck. “so, about the lead role for our upcoming performance…”

you tensed. oh no. no, no, no, no—

"since our original lead had to drop out,” brant continued, his gaze flickering toward you, “i've decided to offer the role to someone else.”

oh, hell no. your stomach dropped. you took a small step back, already planning your escape, when—

“—y/,n.” your soul left your body. everyone in the room turned to you. you could feel their eyes burning into your skin, the whispers already starting. someone actually clapped. you could feel your brain short-circuiting.

oh my god.

you shot brant a look that was both panicked and betrayed. he had the audacity to look innocent.

“y/n's already familiar with the script,” brant added, completely ignoring the absolute murder in your eyes. “and let’s be honest, she killed it when she read for the part the other day.” someone in the back cheered.

you swear to god.

“hold on, i never said—”

brant beamed. “great! its settled then.”

the bastard.

the room erupted into cheers, and before you could process what just happened, the club members were already dragging you into the center of the room, handing you the script like it was already official.

“this is perfect!” someone gushed.

"you and brant have amazing chemistry—”

"wait, what—”

“you totally fit the role—”

“you’re gonna look so good on stage—”

brant grinned at you, and you could practically hear him saying, “just focus on me.”

you were going to kill him.

the worst part? you knew he was enjoying every second of this.

by the time the actual rehearsal started, you were already exhausted. it didn’t help that brant was smug as hell about this whole thing.

“alright, let’s take it from the confession scene,” brant announced, standing beside you on stage. “y/n, just follow my lead.”

you scowled, “i hate you.”

brant smirked, “you love me.”

the club members giggled in the background.

oh my god. you took a deep breath, gripping the script tightly in your hands. okay. you could do this.

brant stepped closer. too close, your heart lurched.

“this is the part where i take your hands,” brant murmured, his voice way too soft for comfort. “you good with that?”

you hesitated. but before you could say anything, he had already taken your hands in his. his touch was warm. steady. too much.

you felt every single pair of eyes on the two of you. the whispers, the giggles, the knowing looks. your throat went dry. and then—

"i don’t care about anyone else but you.” brant’s voice was softer now. lower.

your breath caught. that wasn’t in the script. you stared at him, pulse hammering in your ears. brant wasn’t acting. and suddenly, you weren’t so sure if you were, either.

the silence in the theater room was deafening. brant’s words still lingered in the air, suffocating you, sinking deep into your chest.

"i don’t care about anyone else but you."

you swallowed hard, your fingers tightening around his hands. his grip was steady, but you could feel the tension in his hold, the unspoken weight of what he just said.

it wasn’t in the script. and brant wasn’t smiling.

for the first time, there was no teasing glint in his eyes, no playful smirk on his lips. he looked at you like you were the only person in the room. like he meant every word.

your heart pounded. you needed to say something— anything— but your brain was frozen. unfortunately, the club members were very much not.

"uh—” one of the members cleared their throat awkwardly.

"damn, that was intense.”

"that wasn’t in the script, was it?”

"wait… was that real?”

the whispers started spreading, growing louder, buzzing in your ears. you snapped out of it, immediately yanking your hands away from brant’s grasp.

"that’s—” your voice wobbled slightly, and you hated it. “that’s not the line.”

brant blinked, as if just realizing what he had said. his jaw tensed slightly, but then he shrugged, trying to play it off. “got caught up in the moment, i guess.”

liar.

you could see it in his face.

but before you could even process it, tina—one of the theater members—gasped dramatically from the sidelines. “oh my god. that was amazing! y/n, you looked like you were actually falling for him—”

your soul left your body.

“that’s acting, tina." you said way too quickly, waving a hand dismissively, “it’s literally a drama club— obviously i was just playing the part.”

tina squinted at you. hard, “mhm. sure.”

brant, the absolute bastard, just grinned.

you wanted to sink into the floor. before you could get ambushed with more comments, brant clapped his hands. “alright, let’s move on. next scene.”

you shot him a murderous glare. he winked. you were going to kill him.

────

you stormed out of the theater room the second rehearsal ended. you didn’t care if people thought you were being dramatic. you needed air.

you made it halfway down the hall before you heard quick footsteps behind you.

"y/n, wait.” of course.

you stiffened, but didn’t stop walking. “i'm not in the mood for your usual bullshit, brant.”

he easily caught up, falling into step beside you. “oh, come on. it wasn’t that bad.”

you stopped dead in your tracks and turned to him. “you went off-script.”

brant shrugged. “it happens.”

your eyes narrowed. “that wasn’t an accident.”

his grin faltered just slightly. and there it was.

you exhaled sharply, crossing your arms. “what the hell was that, brant?”

for a second, he just… looked at you. like he was debating whether or not to actually tell you the truth. then, he sighed, rubbing the back of his neck.

"look… i just—” he hesitated. “i wanted you to take this seriously.”

you frowned. “what?”

"i know you didn’t want to take the role,” brant continued, his tone softer now. “and i know you’re not comfortable with the attention. but you’re good at this, y/n. really good. i wanted you to feel it. to actually be in the moment.”

you stared at him. “...that’s it?”

he hesitated. “yeah.”

liar.

but you didn’t have the energy to push it. you sighed, shaking your head. “you’re unbelievable.”

brant smirked. “you say that like it’s news.”

you rolled your eyes, turning away— but before you could walk off, he grabbed your wrist. you tensed. his grip wasn’t tight. if anything, it was gentle— hesitant, even.

“…you’re not mad, are you?”

you turned to him, trying to ignore the way your heart skipped a beat at how close he was.

“…no.”

brant smiled. a real one this time. not teasing. not playful. just relieved.

"good,” he murmured. and for some reason… you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away.

────

the night was cool, the lingering warmth of the day finally giving way to a gentle breeze. the theater club’s practice had run late—again. the auditorium lights had dimmed, leaving only the faint glow from the hallway as they stepped out of the building.

you had made a mistake. a huge mistake. you should’ve just left right after rehearsal. you should’ve never let brant walk you out of the building.

because now, you stood side by side in front of the gate, neither moving nor speaking just yet. you shifted your weight slightly, you bag hanging off one shoulder, fingers absentmindedly tracing the edge of the strap.

brant stood a little closer than he probably needed to, hands tucked into his pockets, his gaze flickering between the dimly lit streets and your expression. like you were the only one thing he could see. he gave you a sign to start walking home by just looking at you like that.

the streets were quieter now, save for the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustling of leaves. your steps echoed lightly against the pavement as you walked side by side, neither rushing nor slowing down.

"you’re staring,” you muttered, shifting awkwardly.

brant smirked. “can you blame me?”

oh my god, you groaned, rubbing your temples. “why are you like this?”

brant tilting his head, "like what?”

you shot him a look. “you know what.”

his smirk softened into something more genuine. “i just like messing with you.”

your stomach flipped, you tried to ignore it. “yeah, well, i don’t.”

"liar,” he hummed.

you scowled, “i—”

HONK!

a car blared its horn as it passed by, cutting you off. the sudden noise made you jump, and before you could even process it, brant’s hand was on your back, steadying you. you froze. so did he.

“…you okay?” he asked, his voice quieter now.

you swallowed, very aware of the warmth of his hand against your back. “…yeah.”

neither of you moved. and then you realized. you were too close. way too close.

you immediately stepped back, putting distance between you. “i—i should go.”

brant blinked, like he was snapping out of something. “oh, yeah, right.”

the awkwardness nearly took over the atmosphere, just before you could start walking again, his voice stopped you.

“you look tired,” brant noted, glancing at you. his voice held that usual teasing lilt, but there was something softer underneath it. concern, maybe.

you exhaled through your nose, shifting your bag higher on your shoulder. “i am tired,” you admitted. “we stayed later than usual.”

"you could’ve left earlier,” he pointed out. “no one’s forcing you to stay.”

you shot him a look. “says the guy who makes me run lines with him every time.”

brant grinned, unfazed. “i’m just trying to make you a star, y/n.”

you scoffed, shaking your head while walking. “i don’t want to be a star.”

he hummed, as if considering something. “no, i suppose not. you’ve never been the type to seek the spotlight. but…” he stole a glance at you, “you do shine, you know.”

you nearly tripped over your own feet. “what—”

brant chuckled at your reaction, stuffing his hands into his pockets. “i’m just saying. you’re better than you give yourself credit for.”

you're pressed your lips together, unsure how to respond. compliments weren’t something you handled easily, especially when they came from him. he was always like this—so effortlessly charming, saying things that made you overthink way too much.

the silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. just the steady rhythm of your footsteps, the occasional flickering of streetlights, and the distant sound of a dog barking somewhere in the neighborhood.

eventually, you sigh. “you’re awfully nice tonight.”

brant raised a brow. “am i usually not nice?”

"you’re usually annoying.”

he gasps dramatically. “annoying? me?”

you rolled your eyes. “don’t act surprised.”

brant huffed, tilting his head as he walked. “well, fine. i take back what i said. you don’t shine.”

you nudged him lightly with your shoulder. “too late.”

brant laughed, and for a moment, everything felt… easy. like it always had been, like it always should be.

as you reached your house, you hesitated in front of the gate, turning slightly to face him. he stood there, hands still in his pockets, looking at you with that unreadable expression he sometimes wore.

“…thanks for walking me home,” you say after a beat.

brant shrugs. "you know i’d do it even if you didn’t thank me."

you nod, pushing the gate open, but linger long enough to look at him again. "you should go in," he says as he looks at you too.

you sighed again while closing the gate, "you should go home too.”

his lips curled into a small, lazy smirk. “what, worried about me?”

you rolled your eyes, but the corners of your mouth twitched, betraying amusement. “just saying, it’s late.”

he hummed in response but didn’t move. instead, he lifted a hand, hesitated for a fraction of a second, then reached out, gently flicking a loose strand of your hair away from your face. it was quick—fleeting, even—but enough to send a small shiver down your spine.

you swallow, trying to act like it was nothing. “see you tomorrow?”

he gives you a lopsided grin. “wouldn’t miss it."

he reaches out, ruffling your hair with a gentle touch that lingers just a second too long. his fingers brush against your temple, slow and deliberate, as if memorizing the moment.

“...goodnight,” he said, softer this time.

you blink up at him, feeling your heartbeat a little too loudly in your ears. “goodnight, brant." you echoed, step inside, closing the gate behind you.

and yet, as you walk toward the door, you can’t help but glance back—just once. brant is still there. watching.

when he catches you looking, he just smiles. until finally, his footsteps faded into the night.

(n); OH MY GOD I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING THIS while giggling over my own au. this part ended up being pretty long cuz the ideas just kept coming hope yall like it :3

next: iii. offstage confession

© asthroophile 2025 do not copy, plagiarize.

[karvroom]

10 Things I Hate About Katsuki Bakugo

◤━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━◥

001. English Literature is a Pain in the Ass

The September breeze sent all things flimsy to sway in its path. The wind danced with the falling leaves before hitting the ground, occasionally picking them back up only to fall once again. You loved this time of year. It was perfect for going outside without having to dress in a stringy top to beat the heat or wearing a jacket over your stylish outfit. The only downside to this amazing weather was the tradition of going to school at the start of the month.

You let out a breathy sigh, head in the palm of your hand as your elbow rested against the windowsill. The windows of your faded red Dodge Dart GT were rolled down, allowing the wind to blow through your luscious (H/C) locks. Your loud, edgy music causing heads to turn in your direction the further down the street you went. As you came to a red octagon, you stopped, letting the following cars pass by accordingly at the four-way. You tapped rhythmically on the steering wheel as you patiently waited, paying no mind to the four girls in the pale moon convertible next to you.

You stepped on the gas, turning into your schools parking lot. It was a struggle finding a spot to park due to everyone walking and waiting around for God knows what. You were relieved once you found an empty space, quickly pulling in with no hesitation.

You navigated your way through the crowded courtyard, your messenger bag filled with books in hand. You bumped shoulders with anyone who obviously saw you were walking, but refused to move even if it was the teensiest step forward to clear a path. It was only seven in the morning and you were already fed up with everyone's shit.

The bell rung and eventually you made it to your first class of the day: English Literature. You sat in the second row of the seating chart. Intently, you listened to Aizawa drone on like he always did at the beginning of class.

"Okay, then. What did everyone think of The Sun Also Rises?" He scanned his sluggish students after he asked, looking for any volunteers to speak freely about the book.

A girl in your class named Hagakure raised her hand, bringing it down once she made eye contact with Aizawa. The class turned to look at her, including yourself. She spoke in a dreamy tone, "I loved it. He's so romantic."

"Romantic? Hemingway?" You asked, wondering if she was being serious. You heard Aizawa release an elongated sigh before you turned to him and continued, "He was an abusive alcoholic misogynist who squandered half his life hanging around Picasso trying to nail his leftovers."

"As opposed to a bitter self-righteous hag who has no friends?" Kaminari asked from the back of the class, earning a few chuckles from his buddies. You rolled your eyes at the comment from him. He held his hand out toward a smaller high school boy, Mineta. The crisp clap of their hands was cut short when Aizawa shouted at him.

"Pipe down, Chachi." That quickly wiped the smirk off Kaminari's stupid face. He was embarrassed to say the least. It wouldn't have been the first time he was shut down by Aizawa in front of a large crowd.

"I guess in this society being male and an asshole makes you worthy of our time." You didn't waste a second to snap back. Your classmates groaned, knowing you were about to go on a spiel. "What about Sylvia Plath, or Charlotte Brontë or Simone de Beauvoir?"

The door opened, totally unscripted from the looks of everyone's faces. As nosy as your class was, they turned their attention to the person at the door.

The tall teenage boy wore a black, short sleeve t-shirt. His straight fit, dark wash jeans ran down to his plain sneakers. His chiseled jawline looked almost like it could slice and dice any vegetable he wanted to.

"What'd I miss?" He asked as he panted. He looked like he'd just run a marathon—sweaty and a pinkish tint added to his cheeks. A clear frown was plastered onto his face. His crimson eyes darted around the classroom.

You turned away and crossed your arms over your stomach. You stared Mr. Aizawa right in the eyes as you spoke, as if he were to blame for the previous conversation, "The oppressive patriarchal values that dictate our education."

"Good." The blonde spat, doing a 180 on his heel, and walking out of the classroom before Aizawa could stop him.

"Hey, hey!" Aizawa shouted after him.

"Mr. Aizawa. Is there any chance we could get (Y/N) to take her Midol before she comes to class?" Kaminari, once again, was mouthing off about you. Of course, even more of your classmates laughed at his joke.

You felt like it was a game of turning between Kaminari and Mr. Aizawa. You were getting tired of it. You whipped your head once more, giving Kaminari the meanest glare he'd ever seen. You wanted to wipe the floor with his smug face.

"Someday you're gonna get bitch-slapped, and I'm not gonna do a thing to stop it." Aizawa shook his head around, emphasizing his sentence. You felt a small ego boost from him taking your side, especially because Aizawa would usually just ignore the conversation or egg you both on. Your teacher began to slowly strut to your side of the classroom, making direct eye contact with you as he did so. "And (Y/N), I want to thank you for your point of view. I know how difficult it must be for you to overcome all those years of upper-middle class suburban oppression. Must be tough."

"Anything else?" You sarcastically inquired, expecting there to be a complaint about your mouthy and unpopular view of things.

"Yeah, go to the office. You're pissing me off." Aizawa pointed to the door, walking back to the front of the class.

"What? Mr. Aizawa—"

"Later!" Your teacher cut you off, holding a hand up to silence your protests.

You rolled your eyes in defeat, standing from your desk and grabbing your satchel. Scattered chuckling was heard, including the most obnoxious coming from Kaminari. As you swung your book bag onto your shoulder, you managed to hit the annoying blonde in the shoulder. No remorse coming from you when he exclaimed in shock.

Upon entering the office, you were checking in with the front desk lady, explaining the situation. Though, she already knew of your antics and how much Aizawa despised you in his class.

"Emi!" As if on cue, Ms. Joke was at the door of Ms. Midnight's office. "What's another word for "engorged"?"

"I'll look it up." Ms. Joke offered, scurrying back to her desk.

"Okay." Midnight whispered. You listened to her ponder as you wandered into her room. The office lady told you to have your almost "daily talk" with Midnight. Midnight stared at her computer screen, typing then deleting words from her page, "Swollen. Turgid."

"Tumescent?" You asked, hands in your pockets.

"Perfect." Midnight mused, returning her gaze to the screen in front of her. She put her red-framed glasses on. Midnight typed and talked at the same time, trying to finish her lewd work, "So, I hear you were terrorizing Mr. Aizawa's class again."

"Expressing my opinion is not a terrorist action." You defended, sitting in the uncomfy chair across from Midnight.

"The way you expressed your opinion to Minoru Mineta?" Midnight shut her laptop, taking off her glasses and setting them on her desk. She faked a smile as she spoke, "By the way, his testicle retrieval operation went quite well, in case you're interested."

"I still maintain that he kicked himself in the balls."

"The point is, (Y/N)..." Midnight picked up her mug, assumably sipping on her morning coffee before she continued. Her fingers remained in the handle of the mug, "People perceive you as somewhat..."

"Tempestuous?"

""Heinous bitch" is the term used most often." Midnight informed. You looked to the floor, then brought your gaze back up as you smiled to yourself at the funny description. Ms. Midnight saw that you took pride in the saying, she admired that you could handle such strong words, but for the sake of other students, advised otherwise, "You might want to work on that. Thank you."

"As always, thank you for your excellent guidance." You stood from your seat, repeating the same process you did when you were in class; scooping your messenger bag onto your shoulder. "I'll let you get back to Captain Celebrity's quivering member."

You walked out of the room before she could even say anything. She didn't know how you knew she was writing about one of her favorite American heroes.

""Quivering member"," Ms. Midnight hummed in thought. Then she lifted her computer screen, typing a storm, "I like that."

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⇨ 002. Your Overgrown Hatred for Assholes

first chapter of this story ! i intend for the story to be short because it’s based off the movie (duh). let me know what you all thought.

taglist🫐 @wheezdostuff @honeydwitch @chuugarettes

[iamonlyperson]

THE HOLLYWOOD REPORTER

YouTuber Markiplier Got Passes From Everyone in Hollywood — So, He Made a Hit His Way

Podcast adaptation 'The Edge of Sleep' from New Regency spent the weekend on Amazon Prime Video's most watched TV chart, but, as the YouTuber and team reveals, it didn't get there through traditional channels.

In 2019, 'The Edge of Sleep', the latest offering from Mark Fischbach, known to his 37 million YouTube subscribers as Markiplier, was pitched to every major platform in Hollywood.

By then, 'The Edge of Sleep' was already a popular podcast. In fact, it quickly became the biggest genre narrative podcast of all time, with some 6 million downloads and counting. And for the television adaptation, Markiplier would be reprising his role as a night watchman, who attempts to survive a mysterious global crisis where anyone who goes to sleep dies. The podcast’s creators, Jake Emanuel and Willie Block, were on board to write and run the TV version, and Longlegs producer Brian Kavanaugh Jones was attached to produce. There would be six episodes, made on a relative shoestring budget, served up to a rapt audience that Markiplier has cultivated for more than a decade with a channel primarily focused on Let’s Play videos.

Curtis, who’s represented Markiplier for eight years, wasn’t particularly surprised by the deluge of nos. As he tells it, Hollywood has never been willing to take his client seriously. The feedback? “Oh, the YouTuber? No, thanks.’ Just totally dismissive,” he says via Zoom, insisting the entire reason that they did 'The Edge of Sleep' as a QCODE-produced podcast first was because they wanted something to be able to show skittish buyers when they ultimately shopped the TV adaptation. It was also the reason that Curtis, whose client roster over the years has included Rami Malek and Veep‘s Timothy Simons, urged Markiplier to do his second podcast, Distractible, an unscripted offering featuring him and a few buddies.

“I went to Mark three years ago and I said, ‘Hey, look, I’m not getting a lot of love and respect for you in the market, you should do a podcast because I know you can build one of the biggest podcasts in the world. And at that point, I think traditional Hollywood will say, “Oh wow, you just knocked out Joe Rogan from No. 1 on Spotify. Let’s pay attention,”’” says Curtis. “And then he did that, and people still didn’t care. It’s been seven years now of trying to get traditional Hollywood to pay attention.” (For the record, Spotify did, allegedly inking an eight-figure dealfor him to host video episodes of Distractible and other podcasts.)

Markiplier is considerably more diplomatic. “I’m trying to show people [in Hollywood] that there is a different way, but at the same time, I do understand the mistrust of some creators,” he tells THR, acknowledging it was daunting to leap from his own videos to large-scale productions, with crews in the hundreds, even for him, who had scaled up gradually. “A YouTuber going into that is used to doing everything themself, so to learn to both collaborate with others and to let go a little and trust those who are experts in their department, it’s tough — especially when you have a distributor or some production company overseeing it or paying for it who wants to have input. It’s hard, and YouTubers can be very egotistical.” (Though he was simply an actor-for-hire and not a creative engine on Edge of Sleep, Markiplier still managed to butt heads with his producers, including the time he insisted upon licensing and editing in a different opening theme song, which he ultimately did with his own money.)

Most in Markiplier’s situation would have cut their losses and moved on. He hardly needs Hollywood, after all. But he didn’t generate nearly 17 billion video views by doing what others would do. “And I have a desire to prove myself and prove that I can play at other people’s games just as well as they can,” he says. So, he and the team, which also includes Oddfellows’ Chris Ferguson and director Corey Adams, among others, decided to forgo the traditional route. Markiplier agreed to put up a portion of the financing, and figure out a distribution strategy later. On Kavanaugh Jones’ recommendation, New Regency was recruited to come aboard as the studio and foot the remainder of the bill.

So, with COVID-19 still raging, the cast and crew decamped to Vancouver in the summer of 2021. The shoot lasted 25 days across 35 different locations, a triumph given the protocols in place at the time. According to New Regency’s chairman and CEO Yariv Milchan, it was a bet worth taking. “New Regency has a history of recognizing potential where others haven’t. Projects like The Revenant and Bohemian Rhapsody had been overlooked for years, yet we saw their value and brought them to life,” he says via email, adding: “With The Edge of Sleep, we saw a different potential in the unique combination of the largely untapped creativity from Markiplier and his dedicated fanbase, along with the success of the original QCODE podcast. We were inspired by the challenge to create, together with Markiplier and QCODE, a series at the right budget while embracing innovative marketing approaches.” (Though everybody’s staying mum on said budget, it’s said to be a small fraction of a typical prestige drama.)

In 2023, with a nearly completed series, they took it out once more. This time, they did so with the first episode available for potential buyers to preview. Again, they were greeted with a succession of passes. Curtis, who’s also an executive producer on the project, isn’t even sure they bothered to open the link and sample it. “It was the same thing, ‘No.’ ‘No.’ ‘No.’ And that’s the point at which 99.9 percent of Hollywood quits, it’s over,” he says. “But we knew, with Mark, you have this special ingredient that people truly undervalue — and he’s a complete genius in marketing to his fans.” 

He was confident that Markiplier could and would activate his audience. After all, he’d seen him do it many times before. A few years back, for instance, Markiplier had a YouTube channel called Unus Annus (“One Year” in Latin), where he posted a new video every day for a year, culminating in a 12-hour live stream on day 365 that ended with him deleting the entire channel. At one point, Curtis says there were 1.3 million concurrent viewers watching; and, in 24 hours, he says Markiplier managed to sell $19 million of merchandise. “And that was something that we couldn’t pay people to write about or talk about. No one cared,” says Curtis, who acknowledges he has a chip on his shoulder on his client’s behalf. “I mean, there’s less than 50 people in the entire world who could do that. We’re talking, like, Taylor Swift, Kardashian type stuff.”

Last month, Hollywood finally got its taste for Markiplier’s power. Over on YouTube, his platform of choice, he released a video announcing that Edge of Sleep would be coming out in a matter of weeks. That video, which didn’t even tell people where they could watch the series, racked up 3.5 million views. Then, on Oct. 18, the full season dropped on Amazon Prime Video via the Prime Video Direct content submission portal — or, technically, it was uploaded a few days before, for quality control. Almost instantly, and without any real promotion, it had broken into the Prime Video’s Top 10, where it remained, hovering around No. 6 or 7 through the weekend.

By Friday, a trailer dropped on both QCODE and New Regency’s social media, and Prime Video posted a clip on its social channels. A paid media buy launched that day, too. Later that evening, Markiplier called an “Emergency Meeting” of his fans, which turned into him hosting a three-hour livestream, during which he urged everyone to tune in and rate the series, as his goal now is to stay on the Top 10 TV chart for 30 days. In success, there will be a second season, and ideally distribution outside the U.S. According to the Amazon site, Content providers to Prime Video Direct receive 50 percent of net revenue for titles that are available to buy or rent. By Sunday, 1.2 million had checked out the livestream video just to hear him field questions about the making of the series, his first foray into scripted and dramatic TV. (He talked, too, about Iron Lung, a bloody film that he acts in and directs, for which he’s currently seeking a theatrical distributor.)

The irony of its success over on Prime Video, one of many platforms that passed on Edge of Sleep when it came through the traditional channels, is not lost on Markiplier or his rep. “We definitely want to break glass,” Curtis says. “We want people to pay attention to the fact that this guy who was told no over and over again is so powerful that he can launch a TV show to great success on his own.”

[wilwheaton]

There's a Warner Bros. YT listicle video about Big Bang Theory unscripted moments - and one of them is you showing up in a Trek uniform for S9E11 (the episode with the FORCE AWAKENS premiere). Was that inded your own bit, and is it a fun story? Love that you went TOS for it. :)

No, that's incorrect. Or, well, at least mostly incorrect. Let me explain.

All of what you see in the final cut was always in the script, and so was the line "Live long, and suck it!"

I can't take any credit for anything, other than I guess the way I performed? But a show like that, for a guy like me, is all in the writing.

The only thing that was any kind of surprise was the ears. When we did the final run through for the network, someone pitched me the idea of wearing Vulcan ears, which I thought was hilarious; I was totally on board for it.

So that person, having secured my enthusiastic endorsement, started to leave so they could pitch it to Chuck or someone at the network. I stopped them and said this was the sort of joke they had to be surprised by, because that was how it would work or fail in front of the audience (the question was: he's in a whole uniform, so is wearing the ears going too far? Is it a hat on a hat?) . I said that I would take all the heat if someone got mad we broke protocol, but I was confident it wouldn't come to that.

So they put the ears on me, I walked up to the landing behind the entrance to the set, and waited for my cue.

They all laughed when I came in doing the Vulcan salute and just looking like I did, but I listened for that second wave that would happen when enough people had that "oh god he's even wearing the ears" moment. It hit me right when it should. and I knew the bit would make it into the show.

So I guess I supported it, and maybe pushed it to the front of the line (it likely would have been approved, now that I think about it), but I didn't improvise anything.

I never improvised on Big Bang Theory. I respected the writers too much, and understood my place as an occasional supporting player, so I kept all my "yes, and"s to myself.

[muiitoloko]

I don't wanna be annoying but can we please have another sequel to the unscripted love? You can keep it in the back burner for now so you can do other people's requests first tho! I like the idea of the reader and Alan reading fanfiction lol and maybe maybeeeeee while reader reads, Alan suddenly gets the idea of recreating it 😩. Like he'll stop whenever reader stops reading too haha. Just a thought but you totally don't have to do it! I just love your stories so much! Any update from you I try to read immediately ♡♡♡

Title: Cloaked in Love

Summary: Alan’s playful impersonation of Severus Snape leads to laughter and a deepened connection during a well-deserved break from your hectic lives.

Pairing: Alan Rickman × Fem! Reader

Warnings: none.

Author's Notes: You’re not annoying at all—trust me, I love hearing your ideas! 😄 The thought of Alan getting inspired by some fanfiction and deciding to recreate it? *chef’s kiss* I’m definitely intrigued! I’m so glad you’re enjoying the stories! Thanks for the love and support—now I just need to make sure Alan doesn’t get too carried away with those fanfics! 😉

First, Second and Third part here.

Also read on Ao3

Weeks passed before you and Alan could finally meet in person, the whirlwind of your respective projects keeping you both on the move. You traveled from country to country, promoting your film, attending premieres, and juggling endless interviews. Alan, in the meantime, was busy filming A Little Chaos, and while you kept in touch through calls and messages, it wasn’t the same as being with him. The distance began to wear on you, the days stretching longer as you counted down to the moment you could finally be together again.

So, when your schedule finally allowed for a day off, instead of resting in London as you’d planned, you decided to surprise Alan on set. The thought of seeing him, of being close to him again, filled you with a bubbling excitement that made the exhaustion of travel seem insignificant. You missed him more than you’d realized, and the idea of waiting another day just to see him was unbearable.

Upon arriving at the set, you were greeted with a mix of excitement and surprise. Fans who had gathered around the area recognized you immediately, and you spent a few minutes signing autographs and posing for pictures, all the while trying to keep your nerves in check. The thrill of seeing Alan again was tempered by the knowledge that your relationship was still a secret, something you both had agreed to keep under wraps until the time was right.

Finally, one of Alan’s assistants appeared and offered to take you to where he was. You followed eagerly, your heart pounding with anticipation as you walked through the bustling set. The grandeur of the production was evident in every detail—the elaborate costumes, the intricate sets, the palpable energy that came with creating a period piece. It was all very impressive, but your focus was solely on Alan.

As you approached the area where he was taking his lunch break, you spotted him immediately. He was sitting at one of the tables, fully dressed as King Louis XIV, albeit without the wig, his regal attire a striking contrast to the casual conversations he was having with the crew around him. His hazel eyes were alight with that familiar warmth, and his deep, baritone voice carried across the set, drawing you in like a magnet.

For a moment, you stood there, simply watching him. The way he carried himself, even in costume, was unmistakably Alan—graceful, commanding, yet somehow effortlessly charming. He was in his element, and the sight of him made your heart swell with affection. You had missed him more than you’d realized, and now that you were so close, the longing you’d kept at bay for weeks surged to the surface.

Finally, you began to approach, your footsteps light and quick as you made your way to the table. Alan noticed you almost immediately, his eyes widening in pleasant surprise as he recognized you. He had clearly not expected you to be there, and the delighted smile that spread across his face made all the effort of getting there worth it.

“Well, well, what a surprise,” Alan said, his voice warm and rich with genuine pleasure. He stood up from the table, his tall, thick figure cutting an impressive figure even without the royal wig. “I thought you weren’t returning to London until tomorrow.”

You grinned, unable to contain your excitement as you closed the distance between you. “I couldn’t wait,” you admitted, your voice filled with affection as you looked up at him. “I missed you, Alan. I just had to see you.”

Alan’s smile softened, his hazel eyes searching yours with a mixture of fondness and something deeper, something more tender. He reached out, his hand brushing lightly against your arm as if to reassure himself that you were really there. “And here I was, thinking I’d have to wait another day to see you,” he murmured, his voice low and intimate. “This is a very welcome surprise.”

You could feel the heat of his hand through the fabric of your sleeve, the simple touch sending a shiver of warmth through you. There was something electric in the air between you, a connection that neither time nor distance could diminish. The urge to close the gap between you, to wrap your arms around him and pull him into a kiss, was almost overwhelming, but you resisted, knowing that the crew was watching.

Instead, you let your hand rest on his, your fingers brushing against his as you shared a private moment in the midst of the bustling set. “I couldn’t stay away any longer,” you confessed softly, your eyes locked on his. “I’ve been thinking about you constantly, Alan. Every interview, every premiere… all I wanted was to be with you.”

Alan’s expression softened even further, his eyes shining with something that made your heart skip a beat. “And I’ve been thinking about you,” he replied, his voice just as soft. “You’ve been the best part of my day, even when we’re miles apart.”

The sincerity in his words, the quiet intensity in his gaze, made it clear that he felt the same way you did—that the weeks apart had been just as hard on him as they had been on you. It was a comfort, a reassurance that your feelings were mutual, that the bond you shared was strong enough to withstand the challenges of your careers.

For a moment, the world around you seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you standing there, connected by something deeper than words. It was as if the distance between you had never existed, as if the weeks apart had only made your connection stronger. And in that moment, you knew that whatever the future held, as long as you had each other, you could face it together.

Alan seemed to sense the same thing, his hand tightening slightly on yours as if to anchor you both in the moment. “Come,” he said softly, his voice a low rumble that sent a shiver down your spine. “Let’s find somewhere a bit more private. I’d like to catch up properly.”

You nodded, your heart racing with anticipation as he led you away from the busy set, away from prying eyes and the chaos of the production. As you walked side by side, your fingers still intertwined, you couldn’t help but steal a glance at him, at the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover. He was your partner, your confidant, the person you trusted above all others.

And as you found a quiet corner of the set, away from the noise and the cameras, you knew that this was where you belonged—by his side, in the moments both big and small, in the spaces where you could simply be together, without the world watching.

Alan turned to you, his expression soft and filled with a warmth that made your heart swell. “I’m so glad you’re here,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ve missed you more than I can say.”

You smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek, your thumb brushing lightly over the stubble that lined his jaw. “I’ve missed you too, Alan,” you whispered, your voice filled with all the love you felt for him. “More than you know.”

You let out a small, frustrated sigh and muttered under your breath, "Damn, I wish I could kiss you right now."

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he caught your words, and a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of his lips. He leaned in slightly, his voice a low, teasing murmur. “And why don’t you, then?” he questioned, raising an eyebrow in that way only he could—both challenging and playful at the same time.

Your heart skipped a beat at the suggestion, the temptation to close the gap between you almost overwhelming. But you quickly glanced around the set, taking in the bustling crew and the open space. With a small, regretful shake of your head, you started to look for a place to sit down. “We can’t do that here, Alan,” you whispered back, your tone filled with both longing and practicality. “Not in such a public place.”

Alan didn’t respond immediately. Instead, he leaned back against the wall behind him, crossing his arms over his chest in that relaxed, confident way he had, as if he was entirely at ease with the world. His hazel eyes remained fixed on you, a knowing smile playing on his lips as he watched you find a spot to sit.

You sighed tiredly as you finally settled into a chair, the weight of your travels and the emotional rollercoaster of the past few weeks catching up with you. “Why didn’t you tell me you were arriving early?” Alan asked, his voice filled with a mix of curiosity and affection as he gently changed the subject.

You shrugged slightly, leaning back in your chair as you looked up at him. “Honestly? I wasn’t even sure I’d make it here today,” you admitted, your tone light despite the exhaustion in your eyes. “I took the first flight I could find from New York to London, thinking I’d just go straight to bed and sleep the whole day before meeting you tomorrow. But as soon as I lay down, I just couldn’t shake the urge to see you… even if only for a moment.”

Alan’s expression softened at your words, his eyes filled with a warmth that made your heart flutter. He pushed off the wall and walked over to you, his tall frame casting a shadow over you as he leaned down slightly, his face close to yours. “So you came all the way here just to take a peek at me?” he murmured, his voice rich with affection and a hint of that mischievous charm you loved so much.

You smiled up at him, feeling the tension in your body slowly melt away in his presence. “Yes,” you whispered back, your voice filled with sincerity. “I couldn’t stay away, Alan. I just… I needed to see you, even if it was just for a few minutes.”

Alan’s smile widened, and he reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from your face, his touch soft and comforting. “You have no idea how much that means to me,” he said quietly, his voice low and intimate. “And now that you’re here, I’m not letting you go so easily.”

You chuckled softly, the sound light and relieved as you gazed up at him. “I wouldn’t want it any other way,” you replied, your eyes locked on his. “But I’m afraid I’m not much fun right now… I’m completely exhausted.”

Alan's expression softened into one of sympathy, his eyes filled with understanding as he gazed down at you. “You look like you could use a good rest,” he began, his voice gentle. But before he could say anything more, a voice interrupted the private moment.

“Well, well, what do we have here? Two lovebirds trying to sneak a moment alone?”

You both turned to see Helen McCrory approaching, a playful grin on her face. She looked stunning, as always, her presence commanding attention even in the simple, understated costume she wore for her role in A Little Chaos. Alan straightened up immediately, his posture shifting from relaxed to slightly more formal as he greeted her.

“Helen,” Alan said warmly, his baritone voice carrying a note of affection. “Always a pleasure to see you.”

Helen's grin widened as she came to stand beside you, her gaze flicking between the two of you with a knowing glint. “I should have known I’d find you two together,” she teased, her tone light. “Trying to keep your little romance a secret on set, are we?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at her words, the sound light and carefree as you looked up at her. “You caught us,” you admitted with a playful shrug. “But in our defense, we haven’t seen each other in weeks, so we’re allowed a bit of sneaky time.”

Helen’s eyes sparkled with amusement as she reached out to gently squeeze your shoulder. “Of course you are,” she agreed, her tone warm. “But don’t think you can hide from me—I always know when something’s up.”

You grinned, leaning back in your chair as you let out a mock sigh. “Well, I suppose we should be careful then. Can’t let Narcissa Malfoy catch us in the act. Or worse, let her participate in this little get-together.”

Helen raised an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk as she caught onto the joke. “Ah, yes, because that would be quite the scandal, wouldn’t it? Severus Snape and Narcissa Malfoy having a little rendezvous on set.”

Alan chuckled softly, his gaze flicking between you and Helen as he played along. “Indeed. I’m sure Lucius would have something to say about that,” he remarked, his tone dry but laced with humor. “But I doubt even he could stop Narcissa if she had her mind set on something.”

Helen laughed, the sound rich and melodious. “Oh, you’re absolutely right, Alan. Narcissa always gets what she wants.” She then turned her attention back to you, her expression softening as she added, “Though I must say, it’s lovely to see you here. We’ve all missed having you around.”

You smiled, touched by her words. “I’ve missed you all too,” you admitted. “And I couldn’t resist the chance to see Alan again. But honestly, I’m not sure how you two manage to keep going with such hectic schedules. I feel like I could sleep for a week.”

Helen’s eyes twinkled with a mix of sympathy and teasing as she leaned in slightly, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Well, if you had accepted that role in Harry Potter, you’d be used to this kind of chaos by now. We could have been three wizards on set instead of just two.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head in mock disbelief. “Don’t remind me, Helen. I still think about what might have been. But then again, who could ever live up to Narcissa Malfoy? You were perfect for that role.”

Helen grinned, clearly enjoying the banter. “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. But you would have made a brilliant addition to the cast, and you know it.”

Alan, who had been quietly enjoying the exchange, chimed in with a wry smile. “I must say, I would have enjoyed seeing you wield a wand on screen. Perhaps we could have had a duel—Severus Snape versus… whoever you might have played.”

You laughed, the thought of being in a magical duel with Alan Rickman and Helen McCrory bringing a sparkle to your eyes. “Oh, I would have given you both a run for your money,” you teased, pretending to twirl an imaginary wand in your hand. “But I suppose we’ll never know.”

Helen playfully pouted, crossing her arms over her chest as she gave you an exaggerated look of disappointment. “Such a missed opportunity,” she said, her tone dripping with mock seriousness. “We could have been the most formidable trio in the wizarding world.”

You couldn’t help but grin, loving the playful camaraderie between the three of you. “Well, maybe we can still make it happen someday. I’m sure there’s room for a new character in the Harry Potter universe.”

Alan chuckled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he considered the idea. “Now that would be something to see. But in the meantime, I suppose we’ll have to settle for being mere mortals.”

Helen rolled her eyes playfully at his words, her grin widening as she reached out to give him a light nudge. “Oh, don’t be so modest, Alan. You may be playing a king right now, but we all know you’re still the dark and brooding wizard at heart.”

Alan shared a warm smile with Helen, the camaraderie between them evident in the easy way they exchanged glances. The conversation had lightened the mood, and for a brief moment, the weight of his earlier insecurities seemed to lift. But as the laughter faded, he caught sight of you glancing at your wristwatch, a small frown creasing your brow as you noted the time.

"I should probably get going," you said, your voice tinged with reluctance. "I still need that well-deserved rest before we meet up tomorrow, Alan."

The regret in your tone was clear, and Alan felt a pang of disappointment that the moment had to end so soon. But he nodded in understanding, knowing that you needed to recharge after your whirlwind travels.

Helen looked between the two of you, her sharp eyes catching the subtle exchange of emotions that passed between you. She watched as you stepped forward to share a hug with her, your embrace warm and affectionate, a testament to the friendship you had built over the years. "Take care, love," Helen said softly, giving you a gentle squeeze before pulling back. "We’ll see you soon."

You smiled, your eyes flicking over to Alan, who stood nearby, his tall frame still as he watched the interaction. With a playful smile, you reached out to pat his arm in a friendly way, your touch lingering just a moment longer than necessary. "Get some rest yourself, Alan," you teased lightly. "I’ll see you tomorrow."

Alan returned your smile, though his eyes held a warmth that went beyond simple friendship. "I’ll try," he replied, his voice carrying that familiar baritone rumble that always sent a shiver down your spine. "But only if you promise to do the same."

You chuckled softly, nodding as you turned to leave, your footsteps echoing slightly in the quiet of the set. Alan’s gaze followed you as you walked away, his eyes lingering on your retreating figure with a mix of affection and something deeper—something that Helen didn’t miss.

As soon as you were out of sight, Helen turned her attention back to Alan, a knowing smile playing on her lips. "You’re not fooling anyone, you know," she remarked casually, her tone light but laced with meaning.

Alan, ever the actor, raised an eyebrow in mock confusion, his expression carefully neutral. "Whatever do you mean, Helen?" he asked, his voice smooth and composed as he feigned ignorance. "I’m simply seeing off a friend."

Helen’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling with amusement as she crossed her arms over her chest. "Oh, come now, Alan. You and I both know there’s more to it than that. You’ve been practically attached at the hip with her since the day you met. Don’t tell me you’re still going to pretend there’s nothing going on between you two."

Alan let out a soft chuckle, shaking his head slightly as if to dismiss the notion. "We’re good friends, Helen," he insisted, his tone light and casual. "Colleagues, even. Nothing more."

Helen didn’t buy it for a second. She had been around long enough to recognize the signs of a budding romance, and the way you and Alan interacted was a dead giveaway. The subtle touches, the lingering glances, the way he looked at you when he thought no one was watching—it all pointed to something more than just friendship.

"Is that so?" she asked, her voice filled with playful skepticism. "Because from where I’m standing, it looks an awful lot like the two of you are hiding something. And I’m not just talking about a close friendship."

Alan met her gaze, his hazel eyes steady and composed, but there was a flicker of something in them—something that betrayed the truth he was trying so hard to keep hidden. "Believe what you like, Helen," he said with a small, enigmatic smile. "But I assure you, there’s nothing to hide."

Helen tilted her head slightly, studying him with a mix of curiosity and amusement. "You’re a terrible liar, Alan," she teased gently, though there was no malice in her words. "But I suppose I’ll let you keep your secrets—for now."

Alan chuckled again, his laughter rich and deep, though there was a hint of tension beneath it. "I appreciate that," he replied smoothly, his tone still light. "It’s good to know you’re on my side."

Helen’s smile softened, and she reached out to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Always, darling," she said warmly. "Just remember, you don’t have to hide everything. Some secrets are meant to be shared."

Alan nodded, though he made no further comment, his thoughts already drifting back to you and the connection you shared. Helen might have been convinced that there was more to your relationship than met the eye, but for now, he was content to let the world believe whatever they liked.

As Helen turned to leave, Alan watched her go, a small smile playing on his lips. He knew that she wasn’t fooled by his denial, but he also knew that she would keep his secret for as long as he needed her to. After all, some things were worth protecting, even if it meant keeping them hidden for a little while longer.

And as he stood there in the quiet of the set, Alan allowed himself a moment to savor the thought of you—the woman who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a colleague. The woman who had captured his heart in ways he hadn’t thought possible.

For now, he was content to keep that truth close, to cherish the private moments you shared, knowing that one day, when the time was right, the world would know just how much you meant to him.

But until then, he would continue to play the part of the enigmatic, charming actor, keeping his secrets close and his feelings even closer, all the while knowing that you were the one person who truly understood the man behind the mask.

The next day, you and Alan finally managed to carve out some time together, albeit later in the afternoon than you’d originally planned. Both of you had agreed that after the whirlwind of your respective schedules, a lazy day at your house was exactly what you needed. No interviews, no scripts—just the two of you, unwinding in the comfort of your shared space.

The moment Alan arrived at your door, you couldn’t help but greet him with a warm, lingering kiss, your hands gently cupping his face as you reveled in the familiarity of his touch. He responded in kind, his arms wrapping around your waist and pulling you close, the tension of the past few weeks melting away as you both simply enjoyed the moment.

“It’s good to finally have you all to myself,” Alan murmured against your lips, his deep baritone voice sending a shiver down your spine. He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into your eyes, his hazel gaze filled with a mix of affection and something deeper. “I’ve missed this. Missed you.”

You smiled up at him, your heart swelling with love for the man who had become such an integral part of your life. “I’ve missed you too,” you whispered back, your voice soft and sincere. “And now that we finally have some time together, I intend to make the most of it.”

Alan’s lips quirked into a playful smile, and he leaned in to steal another quick kiss before pulling you into a warm embrace. “I like the sound of that,” he replied, his tone light and teasing. “So, what’s on the agenda for today, love? A bit of reading, perhaps? Or maybe we could finally indulge in those fanfics you mentioned.”

You chuckled softly, your fingers idly tracing the curve of his spine as you rested your head against his chest. “You’ve been thinking about those, haven’t you?” you teased, your voice filled with amusement. “I never pegged you as the fanfiction type, Alan.”

He let out a low, rumbling laugh, the sound vibrating through his chest and making you smile. “Well, you did pique my curiosity,” he admitted, his tone both playful and genuine. “And I must say, the idea of seeing how I—well, Snape—am portrayed in these stories is rather intriguing. Plus, I’m curious to see how… detailed they get.”

You raised an eyebrow at his words, a mischievous smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “Detailed, huh? You sure you’re ready for that? Some of those fanfics don’t hold back, you know. They might give you ideas.”

Alan’s smile widened, his eyes sparkling with mischief as he leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a low, seductive murmur. “Oh, I’m counting on it, my dear,” he replied, his tone sending a thrill of anticipation through you. “After all, what’s the point of reading them if we don’t have a bit of fun recreating the scenes?”

You laughed, the sound filled with both amusement and excitement at the prospect. “Well then,” you said, stepping back slightly and taking his hand in yours. “Let’s get comfortable first, and then we can see just how well you can bring those fanfics to life.”

Alan’s grip on your hand tightened slightly, a playful glint in his eyes as he followed you to the living room. Once there, you both settled onto the couch, the atmosphere relaxed and intimate as you curled up against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

You reached for your phone, pulling up the fanfiction website and scrolling through the list of stories until you found one that seemed particularly promising. “Alright,” you began, your voice light as you looked up at him with a teasing smile. “Shall we start with a classic Snape romance, or would you prefer something a bit… steamier?”

Alan raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a slow, deliberate smile. “Why not start with the romance?” he suggested, his tone filled with a subtle, teasing challenge. “I’m curious to see how they capture the… softer side of Severus Snape.”

You chuckled, nodding in agreement as you clicked on a story that had high ratings and plenty of comments praising the author’s portrayal of Snape. As you began to read, the room filled with your voice, each word weaving a tale of unrequited love, intense emotions, and the eventual confession between Snape and the story’s protagonist—a young witch who had somehow managed to break through his formidable exterior.

As you read aloud from the fanfic, you both became more and more engrossed in the story, the detailed descriptions of Snape's inner turmoil and the humorous moments woven into the narrative drawing you in. The author had managed to capture Snape’s dry wit perfectly, and you found yourself laughing at some of the quips that sounded like something Alan himself might say.

Then, you reached a particularly funny scene. In it, Snape, ever the sarcastic and somewhat grumpy Potions Master, was trying to teach a rather inept student the finer points of potion-making. The student, who was clearly out of their depth, had somehow managed to turn their cauldron into a bubbling mess of what the fanfic described as "a rainbow-colored disaster."

Snape, unimpressed and thoroughly exasperated, was written to have dramatically thrown his black robes over his shoulder like a cape, stalking around the student and lecturing them in a tone that was described as both condescending and theatrical. The author had even added a line about how Snape’s hooked nose twitched with irritation as he delivered one of his signature biting remarks: "If incompetence were a potion, you would have brewed a perfect batch."

You couldn’t help but laugh as you read the scene aloud, the image of a melodramatic Snape stalking around the hapless student almost too much to handle. "Oh, Alan," you said, still giggling, "I can just imagine you doing something like this! It’s so over-the-top and theatrical."

Alan chuckled along with you, but as the laughter subsided, you noticed a glint of mischief in his hazel eyes. Without saying a word, he suddenly stood up from the couch, a sly smile playing on his lips. You watched, intrigued and amused, as he reached for the soft sheet you had grabbed earlier to cover his legs, draping it over his shoulders like a makeshift cape.

You raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at your lips as you watched his impromptu costume change. "And what exactly are you doing, Mr. Rickman?" you asked, your voice filled with playful curiosity.

Alan gave you a mock-serious look, his lips curving into a smirk as he held the sheet dramatically with one hand, letting it flow behind him like Snape’s billowing robes. "I am now Severus Snape," he declared in a perfect imitation of the character’s deep, measured voice. "And you, my dear, are the incompetent student who has dared to ruin a perfectly good potion."

You burst out laughing, the sight of Alan in his makeshift Snape costume, coupled with his spot-on impression, making it impossible to keep a straight face. "Oh, really?" you said, playing along with a grin. "And what exactly do you intend to do about it, Professor Snape?"

Alan’s eyes sparkled with amusement as he took a step back, lifting the sheet-cape with a flourish and adopting a more stern, imposing posture. "I shall do what any good Potions Master would do," he intoned, his voice dripping with mock seriousness. "I shall recreate the scene, and you, my dear, shall read the lines while I bring this catastrophe to life."

You couldn’t help but grin at the absurdity of the situation, the playful banter between the two of you filling the room with lighthearted energy. "Alright, Professor Snape," you replied, your tone teasing as you picked up the phone again, scrolling back to the start of the scene. "But I warn you, this student is particularly inept. You’ll have your work cut out for you."

Alan gave you a mock look of exasperation, his eyes narrowing as he slipped fully into character. "Do you take me for a fool?" he retorted in that smooth, commanding baritone. "No student is beyond the reach of my… expertise."

With that, you began to read the scene aloud, doing your best to maintain a serious tone even as the ridiculousness of the situation threatened to make you burst out laughing again. Alan, for his part, played the role of Snape with a level of dedication that was both impressive and hilarious. He stalked around the room, his makeshift cape flowing behind him as he delivered the lines with a mixture of stern authority and theatrical flair.

When you reached the line about the rainbow-colored potion disaster, Alan paused mid-stride, turning on his heel to face you with a dramatic flourish of the sheet-cape. "A rainbow-colored disaster!" he repeated, his voice filled with incredulous disdain. "If incompetence were a potion, you, Miss [Your Last Name], would have brewed a perfect batch!"

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sight of Alan fully embracing the role of Snape—complete with exaggerated gestures and that iconic, sardonic tone—was just too much. "Oh, come on, Professor!" you protested, trying to keep a straight face. "It’s not that bad!"

Alan, staying in character, arched an eyebrow in that perfect Snape-like way, his eyes narrowing as he took a step closer, looming over you with the full force of his theatrical presence. "Not that bad?" he echoed, his voice low and menacing in the most exaggerated way possible. "Miss [Your Last Name], I have seen first-years brew better potions in their sleep! This—" he gestured dramatically at the imaginary cauldron, "—is an abomination, an affront to the very art of potion-making!"

You were practically in tears from laughing, the combination of Alan’s over-the-top performance and the sheer silliness of the scene making it impossible to maintain any semblance of composure. "Alright, alright, you win!" you gasped, holding up your hands in surrender. "I admit it! I’m a terrible student!"

Alan’s stern expression softened into a triumphant grin, the playful glint in his eyes returning as he dropped the sheet-cape and stepped back, his arms crossing over his chest in that familiar, confident stance. "Indeed you are," he said, his voice slipping back into its natural cadence. "But perhaps with the right… guidance, you might improve."

You grinned, wiping away the tears of laughter from your eyes as you looked up at him. "Guidance, huh? And what kind of guidance would you suggest, Professor?"

Alan leaned down slightly, his face close to yours as he dropped his voice to a low, teasing whisper. "Oh, I can think of a few ways to improve your… performance," he murmured, the playful tone in his voice making your heart race. "But I’ll let you decide when you’re ready for the next lesson."

You couldn’t help but laugh again, the playful banter between you both filling the room with warmth and affection. "I’ll keep that in mind, Professor," you replied with a wink, your voice filled with both amusement and genuine affection. "But for now, I think I’d like to stick to the fun kind of lessons—like this."

Alan smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he looked down at you with a mix of affection and something deeper. "As you wish, Miss [Your Last Name]," he said, his voice warm and sincere. "But remember, the offer stands. Anytime you need a little… guidance, I’ll be here."

And with that, the two of you settled back onto the couch, the lighthearted moment bringing you even closer together. The rest of the afternoon was spent in a comfortable, playful companionship, the laughter and joy of the day a reminder of just how much you cherished these moments with Alan—the man who had become so much more than just a friend, so much more than just a lover.

He was your partner, your confidant, your source of endless amusement and affection. And as the day drew to a close, you couldn’t help but feel incredibly grateful for the bond you shared—a bond that, despite the challenges and the distance, only seemed to grow stronger with each passing day.

[woodswallow]

What are the Paulchard kisses that makes you squeal the most? Mine are LA 23sep22, Mexico 4oct22 and Brussel 5aug23! 🤍

Ooh, thank you so much for this beautiful ask! :D *cracks knuckles* Great timing, because I just recently went through all their old kisses...

Also impossible to only name one, very hard to narrow it down to three as you did (excellent selection by the way ;) - so I'll cut it down to four :D

Definitely on the list is one of their very early kisses from 6th July 2019 (Milton Keynes, UK, GIFs by @mrsfitzgerald):

This is everything: Cute, funny, a bit clumsy - and it still makes me squeal. It looks so unusual how fast Richard approaches Paul, also - with his forhead first?! Like he wants to do a headboink and then decides last minute for a kiss?! Paul seems a bit confused as well. And then both of them bringing their chin forward to kiss, that movement looks so sensual. Aaand of course, THE huge bonus here - Schneider in the back *sigh* The light highlighting him, he's watching - and the the smile?! This made my fantasy run wild. I love all three so much and this was a gift from heaven.

Another very, very important kiss is this one from Belgium 3rd August 2022 (GIFset by mrsfitzgerald):

I knooow that it's slowed down, nevertheless all expressions we see here are real. And look at that 5th GIF. Look at it. How soft Richard places his hand on that beautiful neck. How Richards bright smile slowly fades and for a brief moment shows this expression of...bittersweet longing? Passion? How he averts his gaze from Pauls eyes to his lips is just so...is this even real? And Richards face afterwards - he's beaming with joy! Pure bliss. I've watched this so many times and still sigh heavily.

Then this one here (Bern, 17th June 2023):

My heart is overflowing with love everytime I see it - because I have the feeling that Pauls heart actually in that moment is overflowing with love. This was totally unscripted, and it shows. It was a spontaneous reaction from Paul, feeling that Richard needed some sort of support (the "well, it is what it is" - gesture or Richard after the kiss kind of confirms this to me). It's a consoling gesture to me, because Paul is also caressing his shoulder and even came back again to caress him again. This kiss is SO unexpected, so hinest and real - and special because Paul took both hands to cup Richards head. Such a warm, caring loving gesture. Also there are snippets that show Richards expression - and it's soo lovely to see his expression change from "I'm totally cool" to a blank "??!" to that heartmelting smile. Also this has such a special place in my heart because I saw it live from second row and I screamed SO loud that everyone around was probably deaf afterwards. The two concerts in Bern were an absolute blast, first row the next day - mindblowing. And that kiss made my heart burst and still does <3

And then: YES, I totally have to agree - that last kiss in Mexico 4th October 2022 will forever live rent-free in my head.

This is a real kiss. So full of emotions, it could be THE goodbye kiss in a romantic movie when the couple has to seperate.

First, there's fun, playing around. Then the kiss, full of passion - and suddenly...grief. Pain. Sadness. I once did a lengthy analysis of this kiss (#kiss analysis ... you guys know this by now maybe ^^;). Richard definitely fights for composure here and it's ...god, when I think about it, it makes me so weak. It's surely because he realizes the tour is over and not because he will lose Paul - he doesn't lose him of course, he's his bandmate. But seeing his expression and how tight he hugs Paul and how tight Paul hugs back - good god, this doesn't only pull my heartstrings, it shredds them.

Best kiss ever, I tell you. Can only be topped by a french kiss!

Little bonus (not Paulchard, but also makes me squeal :D

(Brussel, Day 3 2024)

[solstices-dreams]

… 𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐦𝐞 𝟑. — fairytales

————— … „ 𝐰𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐨𝐭𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐧𝐝 ‟

my other lives linger

in daydreams and fairytales ︵︵ ও

—— 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐝𝐫𝐬 ;

#ᯓ★ - 𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐥𝐢𝐟𝐞. living the teenage dream with popularity, friends, and no anxiety ; having a twin brother ; living without fear of judgement or money ; s/o - ☼

#𐂂 - 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫𝐬. transferring to hogwarts b/c my dad and i moved to Europe ; getting to hang out with marauders and all the hijinks that ensue ; getting to use magic and see wizard culture ; big friend group >>> ; general teenage tomfoolery

#ᨒ↟ - 𝐡𝐮𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬. being the victor of the 68th hunger games returning for the quarter quell ; no trauma/death ; found family troupe ; to meet and love the people so dear to me ; s/o - finnick odair ● ❦︎

—— 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐞𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐝𝐫𝐬 ;

(either unscripted or I’m not actually sure if i wanna shift there or not currently shifting there) star wars ; lord of the rings ; adult fame ; teen fame ; wings of fire ; ilvermorny ; royal/fantasy ; golden trio era??

#✪ - 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐥. currently a researcher and scientist in stark tower till a terrigen crystal gives me super powers ; to meet the avengers ; found family troupe ; meet the people who have meant so much and given so much comfort

#⌖ - 𝐛𝐚𝐭𝐟𝐚𝐦 𝐝𝐫. having super powers ; hanging out with the batfam and other supers >>> ; super cool tech that I get to mess around with ●

#☁︎ - 𝐰𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦. a place to chill out and quiet down between drs ; purple cloud vibes ; a space for learning, therapy, and scripting, it’s an apartment building so different floors are different drs or places to chill

#𓅓 - 𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐦𝐩𝐮𝐬. hang out with the seven ; another fav childhood book ; having friends as a teenager ; focused on the seven & the broader riordianverse ; s/o - poly!percabeth (potentially)

#⚚ - 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐜𝐲 𝐣𝐚𝐜𝐤𝐬𝐨𝐧. hang out at summer camp ; especially with the other counselors ; tv show vers ; no canon timeline ; for my obsession with mythology ; focused on camp halfblood & the first five books ; s/o - luke castellan ❦︎

—— 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 ;

if you share any of the drs marked with the “●” literally be my mutual, these are my rare drs that i see little to no one shifting too and would love to have someone to talk about them with. 

if you share any of the drs marked with the “❦︎” pls don’t expect to talk about s/os if you share my s/o, we can totally talk but just not about s/os!

— ⸝⸝ ℓast updated ; march 8

[verralol]

I am absolutely OBSESSED with the yon from Unscripted Play 🔥🔥🔥 Try-tone (the fanon name) is literally my guy. They're THE Yon. Surely we'll get a modern version of Unscripted Play just like how Silly Plans got one!!!

(Totally ignoring that they only redid Silly Plans because of meeting Mellorange and when I asked Yon on a twitch stream if they had any plans to redo any scrapped songs and they said no, and then in the qna stream where they said a flat no when asked something about Unscripted, and also the fact that it's probably a beta version of Circus Hop because of the concept and lyrics)

Sigh, what a tough life it is to be the number one try-tone fan....