1sab4lla

Latest Posts by 1sab4lla

spot the difference

difficulty: extreme

camp counselor! tashi duncan hcs

WHO જ⁀➴ .. reluctantly agreed to sign up for a summer camp as camp counselors together, as a getaway (technically, it was, anyway) before she went off to stanford, and you to princeton.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. hated it the second you stepped foot on outside in the heat. she hated dealing with bugs, dirt, and uncomfortable weather. she doesn’t like the uneasiness hanging in the air—she’d heard offhand comments from locals about the camp, rumors about strange happenings in the woods.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. thought the other counselors were annoying. the feeling only grew when at the first night, while telling campfire stories, a counselor told a story about an old camp legend—something about a counselor who went mad and committed a massacre. she bit down her annoyance, her grip on your thigh tightening every time the dimwit spoke.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. tries to ignore the others, and bonds with the kids quickly. she thinks they’re adorable (although she’d never admit it. kids still bother her.. a lot). she helps them with setting up tents, and occasionally will play a campfire game with them to shut them up.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. liked to sneak out with you into the woods at night, and make out. you know a good spot with soft bushes. she’d never admit it, but sometimes the peacefulness of the woods would get to her, especially when the two of you were alone. she felt safer when it was just the two of you, away from the tension of the camp and the rumors swirling around. the quiet of the night, the rustling of leaves—she’d let herself relax for a few moments, even if it was only when she was with you.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. despite all the discomfort, liked the experience—being away from the world. she’d cling to you openly when the creepy stories got too much. it wasn’t just the physical moments in the woods that made it special—it was the sense of solidarity, the unspoken understanding that you two were in this together, whether it was dealing with the weirdness of camp or the impending separation after the summer.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. notices first. at first, it was easy to dismiss—just small, almost forgettable inconveniences. a piece of equipment would go missing, supplies would be misplaced, flashlights would flicker unexpectedly, and it was always just enough to feel like coincidence. but things escalated. campers began whispering about seeing someone standing just beyond the tree line at night. some of them insisted they heard voices after lights-out: strange, fragmented whispers that drifted through the dark. voices that didn’t sound like anyone at camp. she didn’t laugh it off like the others, she believed them. from that night on, she kept a flashlight tucked beneath her pillow—just in case.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. notices immediately when a counselor didn’t come back to their cabin. the director wrote it off as them quitting and sneaking out—but her bunk was still made, her stuff untouched. that’s when she stopped pretending everything was all stupid fun. that night, she clung tighter than usual when you snuck out to the bushes, her kisses frantic, as if she was afraid it’d be the last time.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. used to love the rain. that night, the rain fell in heavy sheets, relentless and loud, drowning out the usual chorus of insects and leaves. then came the scream. sharp, piercing, and far too close. she took off running, the mud clung to her shoes as she scurried through the downpour. she burst into your cabin, soaked and panicked, barely able to get the words out. she didn’t want to go back to the fire circle, her instincts screamed at her not to. but you two went. the scene that waited for you there still haunts her. benches knocked over like someone had fled in a hurry. scattered debris. drops of blood gleaming on the wet stone. and the axe—the one from the equipment shed—was gone. after that, the rain never felt the same again.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. quickly locked the campers in the mess hall. the power went out. and the remaining counselors—those who were alive—huddled together with flashlights. she didn’t speak much, except to grip your hand. her grip would get tighter every time you heard another scream, and the thump of a body. you two scurried off when the masked figure tore their axe through the door, ending up barricaded yourselves in the arts & crafts cabin. she had a pair of scissors gripped in her fist, and you had color pencils (sharpened, obviously. there weren't much weapons, unfortunately).

WHO જ⁀➴ .. barely had time to register the flicker of movement behind you. the figure emerged from the dark as if waiting for this moment. you shoved her behind you instinctively, yelling for her to run. the attack happened fast.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. didn’t run, not at first. she screamed, charging at the figure with her scissors. you were already on the ground, blood in your mouth, telling her to go. she didn’t want to leave you, didn’t want to believe it was happening. eventually, she did—barefoot, bloody, and grieving—until she burst into the main lodge and collapsed.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. regained consciousness with a paramedic shaking her. her vision swam as she blinked against the harsh light, her mind slow to catch up—but the first thing she did was search for you. her eyes darted frantically across the bloodied campsite, heart pounding, until the empty space where you should’ve been made her stomach drop. even as they tried to lift her onto the stretcher, she fought to stay. she insisted you were coming—that maybe you were hurt, sure, but not gone. you’d walk out of the trees any second now, bruised but grinning, like you always did.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. broke down when she learned the final death toll. fourteen lives lost, including yours. once she got home, she shut herself away in her room, swallowed by grief and shock, unable to face the world outside her door. for days, she didn’t eat, didn’t speak. just mourned. at one point, she nearly turned down her stanford scholarship, convinced she couldn’t move forward. but her parents gently pushed her to go, reminding her of everything she’d worked for. and maybe, deep down, she knew that leaving wouldn’t mean forgetting.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. carried your memory like a wound—something that never quite scabbed over. she’d stare out dorm windows at night, wondering what would’ve happened if she’d made you run with her. wondering if you’d still be alive if she’d said the camp was a stupid idea.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. shut down patrick and art immediately, still in the grieving process. she couldn’t even think about dating, when she’d lost you.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. gave up on tennis for a bit, but pushed herself to go back (after all, her scholarship was for tennis). grief clung to her like a second skin, heavy and unrelenting, but she tried to outrun it, tried to drown it out in the rhythm of serves and volleys. every morning, before the sun had fully risen, she was on the courts. and at night, long after the world had gone quiet, she was still there, chasing something she couldn’t quite name.

WHO જ⁀➴ .. let training became her ritual, her escape. with every swing of the racket, she fought to keep her sorrow at bay. when the knee injury came—sharp, sudden, and cruel—she barely flinched. the pain wasn’t as bad as the pain of losing you, in her head.

spiderman!art x reader — MDNI

Who.. when you first found out, he tried to explain himself. extending his hands towards you but accidentally shooting a web, barley missing you. his eyes wide, “I—okay, you..you got me. I’m Spider-Man.” And you freaked out.

Who.. loves sneaking into your room by climbing your wall and knocking on your window, you had completely forgotten he was Spider-Man. You look out the window to see him stuck on the wall. “How—how the hell are you doing that? Art.” You gasped, he laughed right in your face. “you okay? did you already forget?”

Who.. whenever he comes back from a battle, he’s right at the window and as soon as you open, he gives you the biggest hug ever before he removes his mask. Scratches surrounding his face and his body. You quickly take care of those and the night ends with cuddles and sweet kisses.

Who.. wishes his suit wasn’t so hard to take off when you both were about to get intimate, you, legs spread all wet and ready for him but he’s busy fumbling with his suit, trying to take his leg out. He sighed in relief when he’s finally out of it, without a warning, slamming into you with desperation. He really needed this after all those stressful fights.

Who.. webs your hands against the bedpost before continuing to eat you out, his face covered in your fluids. All you could do is squirm and moan as he continued his restless assault on your heat.

Zendaya for Louis Vuitton

hii! i love your blog smmmm!!💕💕🥰🥰

aww hi!! thank you sm🥹🥹 i love yours too, i love elvira 😆

unpure ; art donaldson

the moment you entered the chapel, art donaldson—perfect, revered, untouchable—momentarily unraveled. known as the pastor’s son and golden boy of a devout small town, he was adored, idolized, and expected to be without flaw. but you weren’t there for god, salvation, or belief. you were there for him. and there was something intoxicating about tempting someone so carefully constructed to be pure—something deliberate in your movements, in the way your skirt rode up, in the way you sat just within his line of sight. you knew he was watching, just as you knew he shouldn’t. yet the tension—the push and pull of guilt and desire—felt electric, and impossibly easy. maybe it was wrong, but it never felt like it. not with the way you looked at him.

thank uou for showing me your little white boy i do not like him can you put him away please

sleaze ; patrick zweig

you never thought you'd hook up with a jock—especially not patrick fucking zweig. the audacity he had, prancing around like the epitome of testosterone and privilege. you hated everything about him. the mere sight of him strutting through the hallways with that infuriating smirk always set you on edge.

yet, here you were, his letterman jacket draped over their shoulders like a brand.

it started after school, when you were too high to care about the consequences of their actions. the intoxicating, earthy smell of weed still clung to your fingertips as you leaned against the graffiti-covered wall behind the gym. and patrick? he was there.

and somehow—god knows how—you ended up in his car.

the leather seats were cool against your skin, the smell of his cologne filling the small, stifling space. patrick sat stiffly in the driver’s seat, his usual smug confidence replaced with something quieter, more unsure. his hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white, and his eyes kept darting to you, like he thought you might bolt at any second.

“you should eat something,” he finally said, breaking the heavy silence. his voice was quiet, hesitant, like he wasn’t sure how you'd react. “i mean, not like, right now, but, you know. something. something that’s not… this.” he waved vaguely at them, at the evidence of your current state—the glassy eyes, the telltale haze of someone who’d stopped giving a shit for the day.

you'd only flashed an amused look. "..right." and nodded. he was being weird. you thought it was only for sex. caring wasn’t a good look on him. he huffed a reluctant laugh, running a hand through his tousled hair, mussing it from its usual perfection. his discomfort was obvious. he wasn't used to this—this intimacy that extended beyond physical touch.

"you always so high?" he asked, his voice quieter than usual. it wasn't judgement, not really. just an observation. a fact he couldn't ignore. "can't you function without it for a minute?"

"i mean, i could." you mused. the weight of your words struck him. he knew why. you knew why. you shrugged softly, staring out the window. "do you want me to leave?" you asked, your voice tinged with amusement.

his grip on the wheel tightened, his jaw clenching. he turned to look at you, really look at you. your carelessness. he shook his head, sighing deeply. “no. i don’t want you to leave.” his voice was quiet, a stark contrast to his usual cocky self. “and that’s the problem.”

"step-up from when you were kicking me out of your car." you scoffed. "patrick. we hook up, okay? you don't need to act like if you care. about my eating habits or the amount of weed i consume.” he would stop caring outside this car, anyway.

his knuckles were white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. his jaw clenched, his usual demeanor faltering for a moment. he took a deep breath, his shoulders tensing as he forced himself to relax. when he spoke, his voice was low and rough, tinged with frustration.

"i'm not acting like i care," he said, his tone dripping with annoyance. "i do care. shocking, i know. but i do." he turned away from you, running a hand through his hair in agitation. his shoulders were tight, like he was bracing himself for a fight. "i'm not some heartless asshole. i have feelings, just like you do. i just don't show them often." there was a brief pause, his throat working as he struggled to force the words out. "not all of us can be as detached as you are."

"excuse me?" you scoffed. "are you trying to be self rightous right now? because you're not. i'm not a goddamn charity case. don't turn this on me."

he bristled, his jaw tensing. "i'm not trying to be self-righteous," he ground out. "and i’m not acting like you're a charity case." his voice took on a sharper edge, biting. "i just think you're better than this. getting high, screwing around, acting like nothing matters." he huffed, his grip on the steering wheel tightening even more. "i've seen you when you're sober. you're smart. you're better than this."

"oh, you've seen me?" you spat out. "that's rich. you haven't seen me outside this car."

"maybe i haven't, but i’d like to." his voice was surprisingly earnest, the sharpness giving way to something softer. he didn't look at you, his gaze fixed out the windshield, but the line of his jaw was tense. "i'd like to know the real you. the one who's not high off her ass, the one who's present in our conversations.”

there was a long moment of silence as his words hung in the air, stark and vulnerable in the closeness of the car. he kept his gaze fixed ahead, his tension palpable. finally, he spoke, his voice quieter this time. “this thing we have, it doesn’t have to be about sex, you know? maybe… i should take you on a date.”

“who are you and what have you done with patrick zweig?” you mused. he was rough, careless, and annoying. a blend of charm and intensity, as well as arrogance and impatience. praised for holding a racket and running across a tennis court.

he huffed out a laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “trust me, i'm just as surprised as you are," he said, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. then his expression sobered a little. "but seriously. no sex, no weed. i mean it." he turned to look at you, his eyes meeting yours in that intense way of his.

“just… go on a date with me. get to know each other outside of this damn car."

you’d found out that day that he was stubbornly determined.

i miss my boyfriend (mike faist)

they’re one years old today 🩷

memories ; art donaldson

art loved you. he had known ever since he had met you. he might’ve been hopeless in the moment (patrick said so, but whatever), but really, he won. he got you, and he was sickeningly content. you two had just gotten married, and were currently vacationing in greece for your honeymoon. the two of you were cuddled up on the hotel’s bed after a lazy morning, not wanting to get up.

you flashed a soft smile, noting his gaze on you. his palm rested against your head, the tips of his long, pale fingers tracing along your hairline. his thumb gently rubbed under your ear, in the tender spot behind it. he pressed a kiss to your temple, as he returned the smile, eyes flitting over your face. the warmth of your expression made his pulse quicken.

he leaned forward, pressing his mouth against yours in a slow kiss. his fingers gently tilted your chin, slender digits cupping your face as the kiss deepened. his tongue traced over your lower lip, the gesture lazy and yet full of affection.

“you’re my dream,” his hand tangled in your hair once he pulled away, eyes flickering to your face. he watched you intently, taking in the sight of you curled against him. his fingers skimmed over your side, tracing a constellation of old scars along your back. his expression softened, a tender smile tugging at his mouth.

you flashed another smile. “isn’t it crazy that we’re married?” you hummed, running your fingers across his chest lovingly. he huffed out a laugh, letting out a noise of agreement. he rested his forehead against yours. his breath was hot and steady, ghosting over your lips. “how did i get so lucky?”

the recollection came to him in fragments of memory, each flash more vivid—more tangible—than the last.

meeting you at a party he’d been drug to by patrick, his blue eyes flickering over you, lingering on your form as he nursed a cheap and watery beer. your head thrown back in laughter, the sound cutting through the crowded room and catching his attention. there was a flutter in his chest, he couldn’t hear what you were saying, but he wanted to hear it again. exchanging numbers and names in the cool, nighttime air. you’d flashed a sweet smile. “i’ll see you around, art.” and he watched you leave in a trance.

when he first kissed you, fingers tangling in your hair as he pressed you into the brickwall of a nearby building. your body arching into his as his mouth molded against yours. he remembered the first time he saw your place, messy and unorganized, records in no particular order with books covering your dresser.

he could recall the first time he took you to a coffee shop, your laughter over some dumb joke he’d said at the counter. your fingers in his hair after you’d dragged him to a club, the taste of tequila on your tongue as you’d pulled him into the backseat of an uber with a devilish gleam in your eye.

he’d met your parents next, your mother looked him up and down before your father pulled him into a bruising hug. he had taken you to the lake at night, stars speckled across the sky and the coolness of the water making your skin prickle. your fingers on his back under his shirt as you’d pulled him through your door, lips on his neck, eyes hazy with desire.

his head on your lap when you’d gone over to movie night at tashi’s, your fingers massaging his scalp. his head on your lap in broad daylight, your hand cradling his cheek, thumb tracing over the freckles that kissed his nose. the first time you’d kissed at his apartment, warm, soft laughter as he pulled you on top of him, his mouth on yours and hands wandering greedily over your body.

he slowly opened his eyes, the reminiscences still lingering in his mind. the rain still tapped against the window, a steady, lazy rhythm, providing a fitting backdrop to his thoughts. a tender expression still graced his delicate features, his gaze remaining on you. the warmth of his hand remained on your back, fingers gently tracing the pattern of your scars.

“i love you.”

“i love you too.”

intertwined by a ring. he’d never take it off. neither would you.

new ; patrick zweig

you were something patrick had never thought to experience before. you were new. soft, and delicate. you were a breath of fresh air. he was used to rough, calloused skin. harshness. but you? fragile.

he’d never believed in god, or religion, for that matter, but you? temptation on a fucking stick. he’d begrudgingly sat at a pew on easter, bored out of his mind. it was a yearly occurrence. easter and christmas were reserved for church, as if it would make up for the other fifty sunday’s they missed at the grimly chapel.

then, he saw you. you quite literally looked like an angel, with your white dress (almost reaching your ankles, mind you). he immediately sat a bit straighter, eyes scanning your figure. you wore a sweet smile, your cross necklace dangling off your pretty neck, as a reminder that you were pure.

preacher’s daughter, it seemed.

you were greeting the congregation, handing out bracelets that tied into the message somehow, occasionally letting a god bless you fall from your lips. when you’d reached him and his family, he only stared. wide eyed, a crooked grin on his lips.

“good morning, god bless you!” you chirped, handing him a bracelet. your fingers brushed against his. and just like that, the moment was gone. you’d turned to the next family, keeping that grin on your face as you continued handing out the bracelets.

god.

he continued staring, his gaze trailing after you. his father made a point to turn in his seat, flashing a pointed look. “best behavior, son.” and patrick only rolled his eyes, and shrugged, feigning innocence. he watched you weave through the church, his gaze lingering on your figure as you weaved away. the way you moved, it was almost like you were floating.

what could he say? he’d always been a sucker for pretty eyes. you’d eventually sat at a pew in the front, next to your family. flashing your daddy a pretty smile, before he stood up and walked to the pulpit, setting his bible down and beginning to preach.

patrick had been staring the whole time. not even listening to what your dad was saying—he could care less. you’d piqued his interest. the way you stared wide eyed at your dad, as if hanging onto his every word. you seemed to know every book in the bible by heart, and were the first to clap.

well, he was most definitely some kind of sadist.

art with lily in the hotel bed makes me so upset. like tashi you could do no wrong but you did wrong there

sweet ; tashi duncan

the duncanator.

that was the nickname you’d heard throughout stanford that people would use to describe tashi duncan. fierce and ambitious, with a sharp competitive streak. but, really, tashi was just your friend. silly, and witty, with a top tier fashion sense, and who knew what places served a mean cappuccino.

you could see how some people would be confused with your friendship. she’d taken you under her wing after a group project assigned to you two and a couple other people. the other students were about to let you do the work, and she was not having that.

now, the two of you were seemingly inseparable. weekly sleepovers, study hangouts, shopping sprees. you name it.

but, eventually, you started seeing a shift in your friendship. and you knew she saw it too.

lingering touches, wisty glances across the room, smiles became more pronounced whenever the other spoke. the hangouts became more frequent, silly texts were sent and responded to in seconds. but why would tashi duncan be interested in you? she would’ve answered that question for you any day. you only had to ask.

but one night.

the two of you were in her dorm for your weekly sleepover (every friday night, at 7:30 pm sharp. she’d questioned you relentlessly the one time you arrived at 7:45. never again), sharing a bowl of popcorn alongside some chocolate bars. tashi had her arm around your shoulders, keeping you tucked in her side. casual, right?

she’s the man was playing, and she would let out a scoff every five seconds. “this movie is so stupid.” she murmured after a moment, her grip on your shoulders tightening for a second before letting it go. “what, you don’t think channing tatum’s cute?” you flashed an amused look.

a slight pause. “he’s.. okay. i guess.” her gaze flickered to the tv in front of you two, seemingly looking for any flaws she could see outright on the man displayed. “too bulky.” she stated bluntly after a moment, her thumb rubbing your shoulder softly. you laughed, shaking your head. “your standards are way too high, tash.” a playfully shove in response.

“i hate you.” she replied, an almost teasing tone lacing her voice as she gave your shoulder a gentle squeeze. “the feeling’s mutual.” you grinned, taking a candy bar and nibbling on it. “i doubt it.” she retorted, the words followed with a light laugh. she pulled you closer to her, resting her chin on top of your head.

tashi was completely comfortable with you this close to her, your head resting on her shoulder, and her arm around your own. it was as if the two of you were meant to be like this. “she looks nothing like her brother. everyone in this movie is either stupid or blind.” she huffed. “c’mon. this is peak cinema.” you teased, lightly taking hold on her chin and pinching it lightly.

oh.

her heart felt like it had stopped at your touch. her annoyed expression turned into a soft, almost amused one as she leaned into your touch. “i’d hardly call this peak. or even cinema, for that matter.” she murmured in response, lifting her hand to gently take yours from her chin, intertwining your fingers with her own. she brought your interlocked hands to her lap, her gaze still holding yours.

“not a fan of cheesy rom-coms?” you teased, keeping your hands intertwined. her eyes flickered over yours, and she hummed softly. “nah.” she rolled my eyes playfully. another pause. tashi almost looked in awe, as she looked you over. you enchanted her, and she knew you had her heart held securely in the palm of your hand.

“not when they’re as cheesy as this one.” she said, her gaze flicking around your face. a pause at your lips. “i mean..” she trailed off, snapping out of it as she met your gaze once again. “it’s just weird. the plot in itself. why is cps not at her mom’s door?” she scrunched her nose in distaste.

“good point.” you hummed, turning your attention back to the screen. her gaze flickered back to you once you weren’t looking, admiring your profile. “..hey.” she spoke up hesitantly, almost as if the word escaped against her will. you turned back to face her. “yeah, tash?” you tilted your head. her fingers tightened her grip on yours for a moment, and she opened her mouth, then closed it. you felt a smile grace your lips.

god, her heart almost ached.

her expression turned tender as she returned the smile, closing the distance very slightly. it was subtle, but you both noticed it. “i just..” she trailed off, her gaze piercing into yours. she bit her lip, her eyes slowly trailing down to your lips once again. “mhm?” your smile widened, and you inched closer just the slightest bit. she leaned closer, trying to capture your mouth with her own.

she let out a soft sigh at the feeling of your lips against hers. as if she had been waiting for this. yearning, almost. she let go of your hand, taking hold of your waist and tugging you onto her lap. she almost couldn't get enough of you, and her expression was tender as she kissed you, oh so gently.

she broke the kiss, shifting to rest her forehead against yours as she breathed heavily. her hand traced gentle lines on the skin of your thighs, and a small, almost shy, smile tugged at the corners of her lips. she let out a soft laugh, looking down at where you were perched onto her lap, and let her free hand go up to lightly rest under your chin, making you look up at her. her thumb lightly swept across your bottom lip, and her gaze was just as tender as her touch.

tashi said nothing for a moment, her gaze just lingering on you, taking you in. “how long?” you questioned, smiling at her touch. a rare flush filled her cheeks, her expression turning into an almost shy one as she stared down at you. she let out an amused laugh under her breath, her voice quiet and almost embarrassed when she responded, “..a while.”

you laughed along with her, pressing another kiss to her nose. “me too.” you smiled, feeling your heart flutter. “you’re a good kisser.” you admitted, fighting back a giggle. she rolled her eyes playfully, tugging on a strand of your hair lightly. “so are you.” she hummed, and felt herself smile as you pressed a kiss to her nose.

if anyone thought the two of you were inseparable before, now it was way worse. whenever you roamed the hallways, she was right by your side, her hand taking hold of yours. tennis matches? you were there, front row with a stupid t-shirt that said ‘i support the duncanator!’ in bright red lettering. weekly sleepovers were now every two days.

and honestly? she couldn't be happier. she had all that could ever want, with you.

isabella ❦⋆₊˚⊹ she/her. 18. bisexual. 🇲🇽

favorites ᯓᡣ𐭩 challengers. radiohead. tashi duncan. luca guadagnino. sufjan stevens. patrick zweig. lost in translation. jeff buckley. sofia coppola. art donaldson (apologists). cmbyn. yellowjackets. elliot smith. whiplash. slasher movies. björk. anya taylor-joy. ladybird. m. night shyamalan. suspira. timothée chalamet. mutuals.

thinking about patrick zweig and his sexuality…

mrta era up to 2007 i feel like patrick’s in his repressed bisexual era. like, it’s the 2000s and going to a boarding school, i’m sure there’s a lot of repressed homosexuals but, like, it’s definitely not an open thing. and patrick has a reputation to uphold. so, he doesn’t experiment, not yet. but, that doesn’t stop him from looking.

in the hotel room scene, when tashi asks if him and art have done anything, he looks away and sighs — that, to me, is regret. regret that they haven’t done anything. regretting the fact that he missed that opportunity. i do truly think that both art and patrick pined over each other in mrta days, but they were both too shy and repressed to do anything about it. other than distant, yearny looks from across the room.

i’d like to think that something happened between art and patrick after tashi leaves the hotel room, just because. but i think, if it does, it gives patrick a taste of what he’s missing. but he keeps that in the back of his mind, because, well, tashi duncan said she’ll give one of them her number!!

i feel like the first time patrick really first got in touch with his sexuality is post-tashi’s-injury. him being (forcibly) art and tashi-less, forced him to meet new people, and consequently, try new things out. i also think that with art and tashi not being with him, lifts a weight of his shoulders. like a newfound confidence — like, there’s not a sense of scrutiny or criticism from anything that he does anymore. that being said, it’s not like he doesn’t miss them.

now, 2019 patrick, is much more confident in his sexuality. i feel like this was portrayed beautifully by luca guadagnino when patrick eats the banana and stares art down. but, also, the tinder/dating app showing both men and women — which, could just be because this man is broke + homeless and just desperately needed a place to stay, but!! he is not opposed to getting dicked down.

i also think the sauna scene shows the difference between art and patrick’s sexuality. i saw a post on here that said that the way each of their towels are wrapped around their body acts as a metaphor for their sexuality. like, patrick’s towel is loose and barely there, showing that he’s comfortable and unashamed in his bisexuality. but with art, it’s tightly wrapped around, and he still wears his wedding band, though the heat would make the metal tighten around his finger. now, this could be a simple act of devotion to tashi, but, maybe a desperate way to hold on to any semblance of heterosexuality he has? idk! but it definitely reflects his internalised biphobia and repression.

ummm this went longer than expected but like !! <3

“god forbid a girl get huzz” - 2

you applied your lipliner smoothly, double checking your appearance in the mirror. you were backstage on the tonight show, excited, admittedly, but a tad bit nervous.

you set your phone down, smoothing your hair down anxiously, before a knock on your dressing room rang through your head. “you ready?” a lady asked kindly, carrying a clipboard. you nodded, flashing her a soft smile before standing up, smoothing out your dress, before following her towards the main stage. you waited anxiously, the only thing on your mind being that mike would see you.

“now, our next guest is someone i’m super excited about — she’s been making waves the past few years in the entertainment industry, and is here tonight to talk to us a bit about her career. please welcome to the show, miss y/n l/n!” jimmy’s voice rang out, followed by a round of applause, and you headed onstage, flashing a smile and waving at the audience, before shaking hands and taking the seat across from him.

”well, it is so good to have you here! can i just say, you look fantastic!” he flashed you a grin. “thank you, jimmy!” you smiled. “well, i mean, i’m so glad to be here, y’know? i mean, when you start out, you never think you’ll be here.” you admitted, smoothing your dress down as you laughed softly.

“oh, it was a guarantee sometime soon. considering all the projects you’ve had going on for you — and, i mean, you’ve been booked, right? ever since you started acting, you’ve put yourself to work.” he pointed out. “now, i wanted divulge back into your past jobs a bit. so, tv shows.” he peeked at one of his showcards.

“yellowjackets, and this is us.” he noted. the audience clapped at the mention, and you flashed a smile. “yeah, that’s correct. so, actually, i landed the role on this is us not so long after i filmed american honey, and i was worried i’d flop, y’know? so when i walked into that audition room, i was honestly just kind of assuming i wouldn’t get the role. and when i got the call-back, it was just kind of a holy shit moment. like.. this show, was originally already written for six seasons. so i was in it.” you laughed softly, crossing your legs.

“and, i mean, when i actually met the cast, i was so awestruck, y’know? i mean, i’m a huge fan of gilmore girls, and low and behold, milo ventimiglia is there. and i see him, and, oh my god, he is such a dad.” you laughed. “so, he says hi, and smiles, and i was like.. this is not real.” you grinned. “and, i mean, i’m still very much close to all my cast mates. i idolize everyone so much, and just — the idea that we’ve acted in a show so emotional, as well as beautiful just brings us together, in a way.” you said, and jimmy nodded, flashing you a wide smile as well.

“when i tell you i cried every episode.” he sighed in mock exasperation, and laughed. “no — like, i’m so serious! i would watch with my wife, and it’s like, man, these people can never get a break!” you grinned, shaking your head. “oh, believe me, i know. i can’t rewatch it, definitely only a one-time watch for me.”

the rest of the interview went pretty smoothly. you answered any questions, overall making a good impression on jimmy and the audience. the nervousness never quite went away, the idea that mike was watching made you overthink your body language, responses, and just looks in general.

once you had bid him farewell, and stepped off the stage, you finally checked your phone, seeing messages from zendaya, josh, and timothée.

a/n: AYY AYY !! also i updated the things reader is starring in, sorry!! i figured why not tv shows😆 and btw, i actually love this is us, i watch it all the time with my mom☺️☺️ i def recommend it!

“who’s that?” - 1

you had just finished wrapping up a long day of filming, feeling exhaustion float off you. curled up in your trailer, you grabbed the tv remote, in search of something to watch until you (inevitably) fell asleep. you scrolled, eventually, then landed on a movie you hadn’t seen, but decided to give it a shot. after all, there were two familiar faces on the screen.

challengers.

you hummed thoughtfully, pressing play, and cozing up.

holy shit.

any thought of sleep evaporated at the start of the movie. you sat through the whole thing, gaze on the screen. specifically, on an unfamiliar face.

art donaldson. at least, that was his character’s name. you chewed your lip in thought, bringing out your phone.

a/n: yum i just started this👅👅 yes i also made u friends with timothée bc damn!! i figured since there’s so many movies tg 🤣😂😂 okay gonna keep writing, ty!

introducing ·˚ ༘ *..

mike faist x actress! reader (smau as well as ff!)

you’ve been a renowned actress for a while now. since 2016, you’ve hit the big screen in american honey, and have moved your way up to becoming an a list celebrity. now, in 2025, you’ve starred in multiple films and tv shows, and have gained fans and friends alike in hollywood.

actress! reader who has starred or played supporting roles in:

american honey (2016) ; directed by andrea arnold (alongside sasha lane, shia labeouf, and riley keough)

ladybird (2017) ; directed by greta gerwig (alongside saoirse ronan, lucas hedges, and timothée chalamet)

a quiet place (2018) ; directed by john krasinski (alongside emily blunt, john krasinski, millicent simmonds, and noah jupe)

the king (2019) ; directed by david michôd (alongside timothée chalamet, robbert pattinson, and lily-rose depp)

emma (2020) ; directed by autumn de wilde (alongside anya taylor-joy, johnny flynn, and mia goth)

dune: part 1 (2021) ; directed by denis villeneuve (alongside timothée chalamet, zendaya, and oscar isaac)

bodies bodies bodies (2022) ; directed by halina reijn (alongside amandla stenberg, maria bakalova, and myha’la)

la chimera (2023) ; directed by alice rohrwacher (alongside josh o'connor, isabella rossellini, and alba rohrwacher)

dune: part 2 (2024) ; directed by denis villeneuve (alongside timothée chalamet, zendaya, and austin butler)

shows:

this is us (2016 - 2022) ; created by dan fogelman (alongside milo ventimiglia , mandy moore, and sterling k. brown)

yellowjackets (2021 - present) ; created by ashley lyle and bart nickerson (alongside sophie nélisse, jasmin savoy brown, and sophie thatcher)

a/n: hi everyone! so this is def a new thing i’m doing, so bare w me if pics look blurry 💔 also, did u guys see how i made you star in a movie with both josh and zendaya😆 i’m helping you already hello 👅 but i will try to be updating this as much as i can, fs! new part will be out soon!

yikes. unstanning now. was okay with the cannibalism, wasn’t aware of the ‘being mean to nat’ part.

thinking ab dilf art rn.. i need to chomp on his biceps.

(flirting)

I don’t wanna be serving cunt anymore I don’t wanna eat and left no crumbs I don’t wanna be gagged I just wanna be normal and basic omg

just had to fight my bf and my bf's bf on the fact that tashi isn't a bad person 💔 i hate it here 💔

thinking about his veins rn

I miss my boyfriend (I don’t have one)

Thinking abt. The challengers boner slap

i miss tashi duncan, she can never do wrong

let me jump THEM BONES PLEEEEASEEE 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

just rewatched challengers for the third time at midnight while eating a bowl of ice cream.. healing