He knows he has to tell her. Every small action that’s ever transpired between them is all leading up to this final moment, these few seconds. Their life changes once his feet finish crossing the room to where she stands, looking more like herself than she ever has. His hands find movement before his voice finds words, one hand coming to cup her face. She looks surprised, but he can see in her eyes she isn’t, she’s been waiting for this as long as he has.
“I want to tell you-”
“Please,” her voice is barely above a whisper, and he feels his own anxiety multiplied by her plea. He doesn’t know what she’s asking, but he desperately wants to press on, to let her discover what they can create together. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You can’t,” he immediately assures her, pulling her closer to him. “You could never lose me. I’m bonded to you.”
“And I won’t abuse that!”
“You could never! ”
“Cut!” Kid cried, breaking Soul’s concentration and also the dialogue he had been effortlessly running for his character the first time since he had started this damn film. He watches Maka drop character too, her misty awe fading into annoyance very quickly.
The set busts forth with action, makeup artists retouching Maka’s makeup while Soul zeros in on his PA, Tsugumi’s faithful self already has his cigarette out of the pack and his lighter in one hand, and a trenta iced black coffee in the other. She gives him a grin, and he nods back at her. Maka’s agent slithers up between them two of them, massive grin on his face.
“Damn! The chemistry between you two is wild! It’s amazing, usually we can’t get Maka to emote for shit.”
“I can still fire you whenever, you know.” Maka spits at her blue haired agent, glare reflected in his shades. He scoffs, smacking Soul on the back hard, and completely pushing him off his mark. Kid howls in anguish, stomping over to his two leads.
Usually, Soul wouldn’t work on a movie like this. He’s better suited for the dark indie movies, where he’s a struggling artist dealing with his demons via drug addiction and self destructive behavior. But this? This film has the potential to be a damn hit, even if it means working with the most neurotic perfectionist this side of the Rockies. He hears Maka suck in a breath, already practicing her composure for the next fifteen minute “critique.”
“No! No no no!” Kid cries, already worked up too much for a Monday morning at eight am. “Damn if she’s leaving you in this scene! She is telling you, her most loyal follower and protector that she has to do what’s right, and she has to leave you! This is a pivotal moment, where we recognize how much this rebellion means to her.”
“I know.” Maka snaps, composure almost instantly breaking. “I read your script. Several times. That’s what we’re doing!”
“No! You’re not! You two are looking at each other like you’re about to ravish each other! I’m looking for “melancholy”, not “desperately about to wreck the fuck out of each other before they finish their next sentence!” You two are killing me! Take ten and learn how to look fucking sad and we’ll take it from there.“
Maka is stomping off before he even finishes yelling at them, Blake running over what’s trending and how he’s told her more than a few times not to be a shit to directors. Soul groans, heading over to where Tsugumi stood with his vices ready for him.
That isn’t the first note regarding their stares that Kid has given them. The movie is going to be a hit, it’s going to change his career, and it’s going to be the film that finally brings his family to realize he was right about himself the whole time, but there was just one damn problem.
Will is a better at his bears job than Ameilia nor he is as fame hungry as her. Thats why Chris comes pit more convincing than Daisy
Some know how to stay in their lane.
Hey dont get me wrong. Beardying isn’t bad. If that is what an actor chooses to do for his or her career, and they aren’t being pressured by a manager or others, that is perfectly fine.
A made the choice because of the type of projects he wants to do.
Also PR relationships are just so damn common. They hook stars up to promote Movies. Shows, projects, each others careers. (Why folks do not think this happens in regular life is beyond me because I know plenty that have dated someone simply to be introduced into certain social networks.
I always tell people, never assume people are really together. Because most likely they are not.
The part the fascinates me, is that every time someone comes out, the general audience then totally rewrites their acting history. My personal favorites are NP, RM, WM and MB. Folks act like these people didnt beard for years. 😑😑😑
Not all beardings are the same either. Some are long Term some folks do the serial bearding. (Drive by bearding is a thing )
something sweet after all the drama I’ve been drawing :’D
Wanted to do this for awhile already- prompto deserves all the love n I’m still surprised he didn’t end up with any of the girls. I actually have a theory here cause daaaaaamn son, 10 years you’ve been creeping around Cindy n still got no action???? Either she’s 100% lesbian (cause let’s be frank here- it’s the damn apocalypse! even if you’re not into smn, you’ll hook up just cause it could be your last time ever n you need all the good feels you can get) OR, what I personally think, Prompto never TRULY tried to get it on with Cindy. I feel like he staid near her to protect her n the others at Hammerhead cause he loves them all in his own way n Gladio+Iggy are busy up in Lestallum. But I think another reason why he’s there is 1) he can’t handle to stay with iggy n Gladio on his own for too long cause it pains him too much since all went to shit + his continious inferiority complex n 2) He’s actually waiting for Noctis to return n he thinks Hammerhead is the best spot to wait cause this is where they started there journey~
hah! some hidden drama n theory after all! I just can’t stop it :’‘‘DDD
The window is wide open and letting in that sweet Summer air, the kind that tastes like lilacs and sunscreen. The sun is just falling behind the mountains that close up your small town, the alcohol sticky on your lips. Luke walked you into the bedroom, your feet on top of his, hands clutching his elbows. It’s all giggles and clothing hitting the floor before he has you face down, ass up in the air. Arms reaching as far as they can, with the ache and all. Pearl colored knuckles tighten around the fleshiest part of your ass, slapping and pushing you on and off his red, dripping cock.
“Oh honey, ohhoney,” You’re whining into the cream colored cotton sheets. Fingers twisting like the blades of the ceiling fan above you, keeping your sweat drenched skin cool.
And the thing about Luke’s cock is that it’s so fucking thick. The first time you let him fuck you the sensation of being so positively full sent you to a whole new place. And the screams that bristled up a crimson blush to your chest blossomed to the color of ruby. A cut on the crease of your hand from a rose and its thorns. You knew Luke Hemmings was the only man that would make you writhe and squirm in sheer, unadulterated pleasure. And you felt it coming on again, that vibrant palette exploding into a rainbow.
"Baby! Oh fucking hell…shit.” The skin around your eyes was slick with sweat, which, props to your man, making you perspire at the fucking eyes. His cock was so gorgeously hard and quick, pounding you like he was about to flip you over and put a ring on it any second. You only give it your all like this when you’re sure you belong to someone. His brow is glistening, blonde hair looking brunette with his sweat making it stick to his temples and forehead. Luke’s hips are so damn athletic, snapping up just so, the tip hooking inside of your walls. It drags across your g-spot. Such a dear, talented young man, Luke is.
"Luke!” You scream into the air, surely jarring a flock of lazy pigeons off a telephone wire on your hazy street. The moisture by your eyes is still there, but now welcomes the wetness circling your pupils. They are truly blown out to the eternal dusk of space and whatever’s after that. You feel the drop hit your forearm, perched beneath you, holding you up shakily. A splatter of something salty, you lick a stripe up your arm. It’s not sweat. It’s a tear, and there are more culminating up where you see.
“Oh, wait. Y/n…Are you okay?” Luke stops his movements immediately, seeing your wet profile.
“Oh my god don’tstop, Luke. I’m good. So f-fucking good,” you blurted, a bubble of spit popping into the sheets. “You just. Luke dammit, you’re fucking me so good I’m crying.”
Luke blinks at you and you’re counting the breaths he takes. Waiting, needing.
You finally reach back and clasp both hands around his wrists, having to contort your back a bit but he was yourman. “For the love of god, Luke…fuck your baby girl hard. Right…now.”
And Luke could never say no to you. He was your big, strong, brave man. You his baby girl. He could reach the cabinet above the fridge to get the dog food and loved doing the laundry. He always lost tickle fights and always, always….fucked you like tomorrow was armageddon.
Bring on the tissues.
So Calum liked watching himself slide in and out of you, a lot. The flushed pink of his tip only peeking out for a second before being buried back into your pussy. His smooth cock warming at the hot rub of your body.
"I love seeing us, our bodies, connect.” That was how Cal had put it, right before he put it all on you and watched the breath from your throat fog up the bathroom mirror.
That’s why tonight, on Calum’s birthday, you had him flat on his back. Your hands were curved on his shins, back arched. Hips rolling and bouncing, taking turns on each sugary movement. You were riding him in reverse cowgirl, the slam of your ass on his hips echoing a clap throughout the apartment. Calum was straining his neck to watch and not miss onefuckingsecond.
"Oh god…oh god…ohgod…” You knew you were whimpering, moans so drawn out you might’ve been singing. In any case, this all felt so amazing, you felt a tug at your chest. Like…deep inside to that place you only visited when you were supposed to be falling asleep. Like a dream. Calum’s long, firm cock was so drenched in each of your own heady desperation it had you awake and dreaming.
You swiped your tongue across the raspberry of your lips, eyes closed. Hands flexing on your boyfriends knee caps, your own digging into the mattress to pick up the pace of your hips. His throbbing dick filled you out like it was the only place he could feel at home. Calum knew he wasn’t himself until he was sunk into his girl, hopelessly invisible and lost in your pussy. Hispussy.
"All mine,” He growled; your eyes opened to crescent moons, seeing his gleaming white teeth bite into his lip. Those blazing caramel eyes were all on your ass, massive hands spreading your cheeks to catch a look at your sex spreading open to take him in. He was knocked aback by it, the two of you gyrating into the other to make this feeling.
“Like it daddy? Huh? Looks good?” You asked breathlessly, gasping for more. You giggle at his furrowed brows, biting your own lip now. Your boyfriend peered up at you and bared his thick neck, mouth wide open.
“Looks delicious, my beautiful girl. Good enough to eat.”
That has you spiraling into the coiled up bit of drug in your abdomen, right where you feel Calum. Calum is thrusting up and meeting you with very bounce of your hips. He’s so impossibly deep you don’t believe anything is out of reach, not with your man in the pit of your stomach and throbbing for you. All for you. You might cry.
The mirror right opposite to the bed reveals that your body is molded perfectly to Calum’s like a sticky conditioner pouring down the drain. Your tacky sweat blending so each scent can only be defined as “both.” It shows you that you are crying. You could’ve shouted and nashed your teeth in the pleasure. You could’ve cried and you did.
“Cal baby, oh fuck Cal…” You groaned, shoving your hips down hard and sitting on his cock, staying there. Calum gasped at that, throwing his fists above his face and clamping his eyelids shut fast. But he sat up to look at both of you, your ass perched upon his hips perfectly, hips rubbing and feeling him as deep as you could. He then saw the tears streaming down your face.
“Hey…are you…crying?” Cal asked so gently, so fucking gentle. As always…that was your Cal. You only choked out a laugh at how happy that made you, how good you were feeling and he saw it. He nodded only after you did, that communication as silent as it was meaningful and telling. You knew your Cal and he knew his baby.
You came rubbing your clit against the little soft spot below his navel, Calum shaking with his orgasm, the ropes of his white hot load lighting you up, unreachable.
Damn did your reflections look fine.
The secrets the city had to tell were blaring through the clean glass of the floor the ceiling windows in the hotel room. Car horns honking, music flapping it’s wings through the smoggy sky to get to its neighboring houses. Glittering lights demanding the attention of the people in its precious city. You and Michael were checked into the penthouse suite, on a much needed vacation. Goodbye with tour and hello to December and all it’s fuzzy frigidity.
Michael had enough of just looking and whispering those filthy things into your ear, glueing you to the plush carpet of the living room as soon as the door was locked. You two were so high up you felt the sway of the skyscraper, kissing the shoulders of those surrounding. His lips pursed on your collarbones and his cock was leaving a wet trail across your chest and stomach, dragging.
“You’re so wet,” You tell him. purring around the taste he left on your tongue.
“You sucked me off so good, my dick’s fucking sobbing,” Michael chuckled, that rasp wrecking your panties.
“Babe!” You laughed hard, swatting his chest. He just closed his eyes like he always did when he was blissfully giggly. And that….that was all you’d ever know how to remember when the word “heaven” was tossed your way.
And Michael rubbed his thick cock right against your slit, up to your clit and down your folds. One hand braced against the bottom of his stomach, the other guiding his erection across you. The slick sounds filled your ears, a building beat right before the electrifying chorus of a song. One that people lost their minds to, grinding in the dark club, drinks flowing through their veins. Endorphins seeped through the pores at your hips, dewy and prickled with anticipation. Your chest was sparked with the friction of Michael’s cock back and forth. Up and down. His tip nudging inside a millimeter and then driving home, all the fucking way.
“Nngh, oh Michael…” You growled, biting down on each syllable as your sex is set on fire. The hilt is met with Michael’s pulsating tip, pre come leaking at a fevered temperature. You could faint.
And then he helps your legs around him, on either side of his hips, hands under your knees. He was always so good at rolling his hips, his full and curvy hips you loved to chew on and leave all spit covered and red. Yours. Michael supplied a torturously slow roll, your pussy buzzing with satisfaction. Your boyfriend was so deep inside of you, you could feel the beat of his cock thumping up to your ribcage. Felt his fingernails press little smileys into your skin. His soft pubic hair tickling the inside of your thighs. Felt a tear roll down the curve of your cheekbone and cut down your throat.
"M-Michael, so good. So good everywhere!” You shouted out as your fist landed on the soft carpet, head thrown to the other side. Michael’s breathing was shallow and his hips were as deep as could be, undulating at a curve so right you bit the edge of your nail clean off. Michael’s thumb came to rub flat against the tears staining your neck.
“Kitten…my kitten…” Michael muttered, leaning forward to press kisses to each cheek and eyelid. Down to your wet neck, drinking in the saltiness. His calm caresses were intersected by the sideways thrusts of his hips, sharp and hitting you exactly where you needed him. “You’re perfect, god…never change kitten.”
Michael pulled out of you only to rub his rock hard cock, so fucking wet, againstyourclit. Your body jerked, curling up to get around him. The pads of your fingers crawling across his broad back. “Ah! Baby!” Your voice is bracketed by sobs of ecstasy. Close. Michael pressed his dick down harder, heavy breathing and clenched stomach.
Coming together, you’re so worked up, squirting around his throbbing cock as he shoots his cum along your chest.
“Best….vacation…..ever. I had you sobbing.”
“Shut up Mikey.”
But you’re smiling so wide.
Your boy was getting cocky. Ash was pushing his chest into yours, shoulders so broad, enveloping you without having to curl into themselves. He was giggling with a shit eating grin spread across that handsome face, that strong cut jaw. Carrying the laundry basket on one hip, his free arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you in. His blonde curls were a sweet froth in the Sunday morning sunshine beaming through the blinds. Warm against your bare back, only in your bra.
“I love laundry day. I gotta say…seeing you walk around the house in nothing but panties and a bra makes me wanna dirty all your clothes,” Ashton says, dumping the contents of the basket into the machine unceremoniously. You roll your eyes at him, feeling the heart cut diamond of the engagement ring press into the small of your back. Hands behind you as you lean into the dryer.
"Come on, it’s just more convenient this way. I feel free and less stressed without the clothes on. Besides…just you and me ey?” You smirked at your approaching fiancé, his hips lining up with yours as his arm reached to turn on the dryer. His mouth inches away from yours.
“More convenient for what, my beautiful girl?”
Ashton had you sat on the dryer, legs spread wide, machine vibrating fervently beneath you. He was between your quivering legs, just leaking for him. Those long fingers and muscular forearms working your thighs, rubbing out moans.
"Gonna be my wife,” Ashton growls into your ear, biting around the shell of it and sucking on the lobe. His hands then shoved your lower back towards him, sending your wet sex into the front of his boxers. “Yes!” You yelp before tugging the waistband of his underwear down, thumbs hooked in.
"My husband…” You’re searching for breath and giving it out all in the same place, at Ashton’s chest. Mouth opening and closing, eyes fluttering between looking for every detail and succumbing to blindness. The scent of his cologne wafting off his sweaty skin. You run your tongue along from his left to right nipple, eliciting groans from your man. And that was the very thing…he was yourman. Was gonna be standing at that big white altar adorned with your favorite flowers. In that suit and tie, vows written on binder paper between those shaking fingers.
Lifting his fingers to your mouth and sucking, you felt the tears pin-prick your lashes, loving this and him so much. Your tongue lapped at his nails, past the first knuckle all the way down. Massaging the underside of his digits, feeling them flex inside. Moaning around them, you peeked up at him sticking his massive cock into you.
The rocking dryer only gets knocked more as he fucks you into full on tears now. His face is buried in your neck, gasping out his “I love you’s” and “My princess.” His fingers stay in your groaning and whimpering mouth by your demands. You loved his hands. Loved em’ to death.
It’s when he feels just how wet your cheeks are against his forehead that Ash looks up. His hair is so adorably messed up and knotted from your fingers. The hazel of his eyes is momentarily clouded with concern. Overwhelmingly so.
“Hey…hey princess…y/n. Talk to me. Are you okay?” He cups your face so gently you feel like a china doll just set onto the shelf, polished and expensive. “Ash, baby. It’s just so incredible and I love you so much…”
Ash’s face starts to turn from worried to relieved. Then touched and tender. Always tender. There’s undeniable hunger there; you know it’s mirrored on your face as well. “Your cock is so fucking amazing Ash, god I love it. Love you.”
You nuzzle into him, wrapping all of yourself around his body. Lips falling onto his and against his neck, delving in. Into what’s yours.
“I love you too, my gorgeous girl.” Ash is nosing at your temple, fucking you slow and deep. The beep of the machine tells you the laundry is almost ready.
His huge cock is pressed to your g-spot, your teeth planted into his collarbone. You both cum together, loving each other to death.
The sea in the Underworld is stagnant yet it’s nothing short of chaos. Killian tries hard to focus on the still water, on the slight breeze in the air, or at the very least, the smell of salt from the sea, but all his mind registers is the redness of the sky, the eerie silence, the ever-present mist, and the feel of death in the air.
He notices a set of footsteps behind him – it’s not Emma, he knows, he can feel it – so he decides to ignore them, not in the mood to talk to any fellow dead person. Until that very much living person stops beside him, her shoulder lightly brushing his.
“Glad to see your brooding habits are still intact” Regina mumbles, a sort of forced snark in her voice as compared to the natural way it flows through her usually.
Killian turns to her then, catching her exhaustion in the way her shoulders are dropped, her eyes blearily staring ahead without the usual fire in them, and the frown lines appearing on her forehead.
A flash of guilt courses through him at the sight – knowing it’s this entire mission to save him which has caused her, Robin, and gods the lad down here. He wants to thank her, but also wants to call her stupid (the way she does) for coming down to save his undeserving arse, but he doesn’t.
Instead - “What is a sailor to do on his ship at night, but brood?” he tries to make the situation lighter.
“Oh really?” she quirks a perfectly shaped eyebrow, her painted lips forming a teasing pout “No beautiful company for the night?”
“Not when you’re on sea, love”
She nods to that, once again staring at the dull horizon and Killian can’t help but tease, “Aren’t you the one brooding right now, Your Majesty? You’re probably familiar with the habit; I’m sure it got lonely as the Evil Queen - all by yourself…plotting revenge on Snow White”
Regina huffs and then sighs, her voice dropping an octave when she speaks, “I never really brooded. Rage is a very powerful motivator”
“No argument on that” Killian tilts his head in agreement.
“It sort of numbs you” she continues, much to Killian’s surprise, “Filters your mind and corrupts your soul, whispering all these lies of how the darkness provides comfort when it truly just destroys you and leaves you empty”
Understanding and sympathy swarm through Killian, as he offers a shaky smile to Regina whose own lips lift up in a sheepish smile, realizing she just confessed so to the pirate.
Killian moves his hand to procure his flask and offers it to her, the feel of the liquid burning through her throat, he hopes, will help the self-loathing slip away. A bit.
She rolls her eyes at him and he gives her a pointed look. Snatching the flask from him she opens the cap, “I don’t do rum” she states before taking a swig.
When she catches the self-satisfied grin on his face, she shoves the flask to his chest and crosses her arm, looking the other way.
They stand there in silence for a few more moments, the two of them with such a complicated history – flirting (or rather manipulation), working as allies, betrayal, attempts to murder, torture, working together in Neverland, and finally, something akin to…something.
His gaze refocuses from the woman to how calm the water is down here, perfectly contrasting the inner turmoil which is currently eating him alive. He knows he made the right decision the night before - letting Liam move on and deciding to live out his future with Emma.
He’s also a step closer to forgiving himself for all the horrendous things he said and did to the people he loved under the influence of the dark curse, for feeding the whispering voices inside his head and for being weak.
They’ve all certainly seemed to forgive him, their presence here being evidence of that.
(The Charmings truly are a stubborn bunch)
But as forgiving and supportive Emma is of him, of seeing the good in him, she still doesn’t truly understand the kind of demons he fights with himself every day, the way the darkness is always at bay, trying to find a way to seep through.
“Why do we deserve to live?” he blurts out, turning his head just in time to catch Regina’s eyes widen.
“What?” she shakes her head.
“We’ve tortured and murdered countless people in the name of revenge; some of them who might actually still be here. Why is it then that we, who’ve destroyed countless lives, and even hurt the ones whom we love the most, deserve to go back up there and live our happy endings?”
Regina looks down, remembering the conversation with Gepetto in her office, After ruining everyone else’s happy ending, what makes you think you deserve one of your own?
Memories of the way bright red hearts felt in her hand, the beating of them against her palm just before she applied some pressure and crushed them, watching the way the life left in people’s eyes and they dropped in front of her. The way bodies piled up, the smell of rotting flesh and the ground painted in red as her eyes searched for one person.
The way Snow used to look at her, not anger or sympathy or rage, just disappointment and pity and sadness.
And finally the way Henry used to look at her – disappointed and hurt.
i’m so used to putting off working on music now- partially due to depression, partially due to stress over music projects I know I REALLY need to get back to- that despite the fact that I am actually getting ideas, I just can’t bring my damn self to hook my setup back up so I can actually write stuff again
it’s not like it’s a hard thing to do, I just… can’t talk myself into doing it for some reason and it is so, so utterly frustrating because I desperately want to be well enough to just stop fucking worrying about sample sorting or nailing songs on the first go so I don’t have to keep redoing them and just write music again, but my damn brain just does not want me to have that luxury apparently!
fucking christ I thought the personal issues i’ve been dealing with, many of which’ve built up over a very long period of time were bad enough, but having something i so sincerely love to be hung up by me by worrying and stressing over it to the point I just don’t eveb start is very closely rivalling it
it hurts. it legitimately fucking hurts and i know the solution is just to fucking start something and then KEEP WORKING, but i can’t get passed the stumbling block and it’s absolutely crushing me
Oliver doesn’t know he’s in a dream state. He assumes this is his world. Everything seems right. His family is happy. Laurel and him have finally figured it out. Sara and him have just hooked up in the guest house so he’s riding the high of a very satisfying blow job. All is good.
Then he sees it.
He sees them.
Felicity and Ray Palmer.
They are friends of his father. Palmer Tech has a very lucrative contract with QC in which they upgraded pretty much all of the tech at QC. Oliver’s met Ray several times at various high society functions like this one. He’s nice enough. But that’s not what stops him in his tracks upstairs to get his tux on.
It’s something that’s been niggling at my head for a long time now and this really is just pure speculation on my part, but most of the stuff I post is anyway, so why should that stop me?
The writers/producers of The Walking Dead have always expressed a lot of confusion if not actual angst at the idea that fans weren’t rooting for Lori and many were in fact actively hoping for her to die. This is expressed from mild exasperation through trying to speculate on reasons why to just sheer disbelief. They thought Lori was an awesome character (and I agree), but they seemed to conclude that people never really forgave her for hooking up with Shane (even though it was ENTIRELY justifiable and actually pretty normal behavior considering the circumstances).
Ever since they really haven’t had a “female lead” on the show. They’ve just sort of divided the time between Andrea, Maggie, Michonne and Carol since then. Now Andrea’s dead, Michonne is awesome, but she barely speaks, Carol is ostracized from the group and Maggie…(please don’t let this be true) but she seems to be the rumored favorite to die this season. So that leaves…Beth? WTF, right?
No, not really. Look at where they’ve led Beth the last couple of seasons and look at where they started her this season.
Season 4 Beth vs. Season 1 Lori
In Charge of a Child
In a Relationship
Thinks Man in Relationship is Dead
Husband/Boyfriend’s Death “Witnessed” by His Friend
Man Who Witnessed Death Tells Her
Man from Relationship is Actually Dead - JUST BETH
Took Physical Comfort From Man Who Told Her( but…no sexy times for Beth, just a hug, but with Daryl…that may as well have been sex up against the prison wall. (I kid…I kid…mostly)
Recently lost parent(s)
On the Run in ZA With Man Who Told Her
Is this Gimple’s way of giving us a new leading lady without making the “mistakes” the the writers/producers think they made with Lori?
Maybe. Maybe not. But I think it’s freaking coincidental as all hell if this is not the case.
All these points about the season being changed have me wondering about that comic con interview. The one where Lana and Jen kept looking at each other like they had a secret/inside joke? What happened? I need to know!!! Someone please ask Lana to write a tell all once this is all over.
i have a new pet theory. i caught myself writing that because Hook had just up and decided to damn everyone for no reason, when other Dark Ones showed that they clearly have free will, and so that he was evidently the worst villain ever to happen on OUAT–no motivation, no justification, pure evil.
and then, i remembered that the promo said Emma was gonna be the baddest bad ever to bad. so what if when they made the sudden huge changes to make Hook the Dark One, they really literally took Emma’s story. she was going to bring all the Dark Ones back, and she was going to decide to not to it at the last minute and ask to be killed to protect everyone.
you know, exactly what she asked Regina to do in the first episode? and Regina would be the savior that Emma said was necessary to stop the thing coming the town’s way what needed one? and they’d have a big emotional moment about it but Regina would do the right thing? and then they’d traipse off to save Emma? and her family would have the major role in saving her?
Dean tore his gaze from his phone, giving Sam a questioning look.
‘You’re glued to that thing today!’ Sam explained.
Dean huffed but started to put the phone down. Before it reached the table, Sam snatched it from his grip.
‘Uh-uh, no. Give it back.’ Dean said instantly, his palm outstretched for the phone.
‘What? Why?’ Sam teased, feigning ignorance.
He leant back in his chair to look at the screen with one hand outstretched, ready to fend off Dean should he try to grab it back. Sam’s face split into a grin as it quickly became clear, what had been captivating Dean’s attention. His eyes darted up to meet Dean’s.
‘This is what you’ve been looking at?’ he asked, gesturing with the phone. Dean sat back in his seat, folding his arms and pursing his lips.
‘Dude, you actually like her,’ Sam continued, ‘Like really like her.’
Dean scoffed but a pink tinge started to colour his cheeks.
‘Just give me back the damn phone, man!’
‘Seriously. I thought you two just hooked up occasionally when you’d both been drinking but this? This is awesome. I’m happy for you, Dean.’ Sam said with a sincere grin, holding the phone back out towards Dean. Dean took it back with a scowl and stashed it in his jeans pocket, firmly out of Sam’s reach.
‘It’s only a couple of freaking pictures,’ he muttered, shooting a stern look at Sam as he picked up his burger but he couldn’t quite smother the small smile that pulled at this lips.