#michael b. silver

[pierppasolini]

Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday (1993) // dir. Adam Marcus

[yellodisney]

[2bootsup]

📣 go tigers!!

[themuseinmuseum]

silver on melanin

[sidlesbitch]

every CSI Miami episode:

02x17 - Money for Nothing

[staff]

Tumblr Tuesday: Paper Mario Vivian Fanart

Hello to you, especially if you're still celebrating last week's Trans Day of Vivian. Obviously, some other cool stuff happened in the reboot of The Thousand-Year Door. But if we're honest, the real win is Vivian's restored trans identity.

@alicebrightstar:

@starozoa:

@najimigendered:

@michael-h-art:

@sandrarivasart:

@skysiren41:

@b-a-m:

@melloianv2:

@cory-the-hedgehog:

@therobcalledzeus:

@stardustshimmer:

@m4carunes:

@cloudyydraws:

@homriette:

@comet-soda:

@kcdoos:

@m-beca:

@lucklessrat:

@quariumarts:

@nintendonut1:

@silvers-random-art-blog:

[badmovieihave]

Bad movie I have Deathtrap 1982

[oceantornadoo]

idiots doctors in love

dr. michael robinavitch x resident f!reader

smut. oblivious reader. down bad robby. jazz obssessions.

based on the vibe of the music robby was listening to in ep1 and 15, i headcanon he's a jazz man. SORRY NOT SORRY.

"what do you mean you can't go?"

you frown at dr. mohan, your pain-in-the-ass best R3 friend who's currently breaking your heart. "you're telling me you'd rather stay here than go out?" you gesture to the ER, workers fluttering around as day shift turns to night. out of the corner of your eye you catch a head of almost-silver hair and smirk. "so that's why you want to stay?" she finds the man in your line of sight and immediately shakes her head. samira unclips her clip, shakes her head, and reclips it -- something she never does in the ER. it's a sure sign of her crush on dr. abbot, even if she won't admit it.

"it's not even a crazy club, samira." you hook your arm through hers and drag her away from the board that she was scanning with a single-minded ferocity. "it's r&b night at this new jazz club. we can sit and still have fun! you don't even need to wear heels." she's already dragging you back to the board and shaking her head. "i came in late today. i need to finish my 12 hours." by late, she means the two hours she spent throwing up from food poisoning. even robby told her she could go home and here she is, staying. "fine. but you better text me, i expect you to leave here by 9pm sharp. no more than what you were supposed to work." you squeeze her arm and only let go when she smiles at you. what a liar. you know she'll work way into the night. "sure thing, mom. i'll text you what i eat and when i go to bed, too." she shoots back, smiling. you nudge her side before locating your water bottle and gathering yourself, mentally, to leave the chart board. "i expect nothing less. see you sunday!"

when you turn, your water bottle smacks into your attending.

"shit, i'm sorry." you look up and there he is, crow's feet crinkling as he smiles. rounded black eyeglasses compliment the black ipad he holds, likely updating someone's chart before you whacked his hand with your sturdy bottle. "what's that thing made of?" he lowers his head like he's examining the pink steel of your bottle, and it's hard not to feel giddy under his full attention. stupid, stupid crush.

"confidential weapon materials. it's indestructible." you grin as he shakes his head, clearly done with your antics. "get out of here, doctor. there's only room for so many dad jokes." you roll your eyes, untwisting the cap of your water bottle and drinking just so you can have a few more seconds with him before you really have to go. today was one of those days where you still feel human when you leave work -- no soul-crushing experiences. you're sure one will come on your sunday shift, but the rest of friday night and all of saturday scream freedom to you. a drop of water escapes your mouth and trails down from the corner of your lips to your chin. a lapse in control, something you usually have in spades, but never around robby. how embarrassing, not being able to drink water with more etiquette than a child-

a warm finger brushes the skin of your chin, wiping away the droplet.

you lock eyes. his are brown and a little out of it, his nose flaring and immediately condensing when he retracts his hand. he tucks it in his cargo pants and it's like you've imagined the whole thing.

must be ER-induced delirium.

"any weekend plans, robby?" absolute insane, to ask that question after you just displayed your lack-of-drinking skills. fortunately, all robby does is shake his head. his veiny hand swipes his glasses off his face and tucks them in the front chest pocket of his scrubs. unfortunately, the fluidity of it does a lot for you. must be the competency? "don't call me old, but the record store i like is having a sale on all their duke ellington records tomorrow. might stop by, pretend i have a life." he laughs in that self-deprecating way of his, like he's embarrassed to admit he's human and not just an attending.

your heart melts.

"i love jazz." you murmur, a little self-consciously, as you set your eyes on his stethoscope instead of his face. "i know." you pick your head up immediately, brows furrowed. when did you tell him that? "i mean, i heard you talking to dr. mohan." he clarifies. you nod, a kernel of hope growing when you realize he was eavesdropping. maybe this obsession is more than one-sided. maybe.

"you goin' to that thing you mentioned?" he asks, rolling his shoulders and looking away before looking back at you. "maybe. samira, i mean, dr. mohan can't go, so i might see if my roommate wants to go. she's really into rock though, like die-hard metal fan, so i'm not too sure if she'll want to..." you trail off, a bit saddened. you do want to go, and if it was daytime you would, it's just being alone at night in the city can still be scary. especially after a long shift, even if you're sober. your senses are dulled, worn out from all-day usage. the idea of a long bath and playing a favorite playlist sounds equally appealing and way less work.

"i'm free."

you gape at him, then quickly recover before he can notice how wide open your mouth is. "really?" he looks shocked at himself for even offering, so all he does at first is nod. robby looks off-kilter, far from the confident attending you've spent your last two years with. "you don't have anyone- i mean, any plans tonight? i don't want to take up too much of your time, it starts at 8:30 and it'll probably be at least an hour, maybe two." he barks out a laugh, swiping a hand down his face before answering. "no one's waiting on me. plus, i'm not that old, doctor. my bedtime is 12 anyway." he winks, recovered from whatever shock he was experiencing. you laugh, covering it with your hand before it becomes a full-force giggle. he's not even that funny, but he's just so endearing with those soulful brown eyes and terrible humor and warmth. on hour 12 of your shift, you simply can't take it.

"let me talk to dr. abbot and then i can walk out with you. it's kind of a speakesy so there's this password and this back door and," you realize you're waving your hands around, priming him for another water bottle attack, and quickly fix them to your sides, "and, i'll be right back. don't take another case or i'll go without you." his eyebrows crinkle a little at your mention of dr. abbot but you write it off as tiredness. he nods his affirmation and you bolt through the ER, desperate to finally get out of here.

"dr. abbot!" thankfully he's charting and not gut-deep in a poor patient. he looks up and nods you over, clearly expecting an interesting case. "i need you to do me a favor. dr. mohan is abandoning our jazz club plans to work her full shift and i need you to promise me she leaves here by 9pm. she already had food poisoning this morning, she does not need to work longer than necessary." he's smiling by the end of your demand, clearly amused than angry you're making demands. "you'll make a perfect chief resident, doctor. she won't be here past 9 or i'll walk her out myself." that's what you're hoping for, but you don't mention that. "sorry about your plans." he adds. you shrug, rocking back on your feet as you try not to give away your excitement. "it's okay. robby's coming, of all people."

an odd thing happens to the attending you thought was unflappable. he looks past your shoulder, clearly searching for robby, before quickly pulling back to look you up and down. his mouth opens slightly, then closes shut immediately. "fucking finally." he mutters under his breath, underestimating how good your hearing is. "sorry?" you ask, a little off guard. he shakes his head, resetting. "nothing. have a good night, doctor. have fun." when has he ever told you to have fun? you nod, extremely confused with whatever oddness has affected the Pitt attendings. you wish him a goodnight and beeline back to Robby, who's trying not to involve himself in two GSW's that just burst through the doors.

it's intimate, walking out with him. he holds the door for you but with his hand up high, making you almost duck under it to exit. you talk all the way to the parking lot, only realizing he doesn't even drive when you arrive at your car. you explain how to get into the club, the password being "April 29th" for the NYC Duke Ellington Day in 2009. he takes all of it in stride, nodding precisely at the right points like he's actually listening. "you need a ride home?" you offer, hoping he says no. this past hour has been too much of a whirlwind and you need a moment to contemplate, but the people pleaser in you demands hospitality. thankfully, he shakes his head. "i like walking home. not too far and clears the head." you nod, completely understanding. usually when you drive home, you keep the windows down and the music low to decompress. unsurprisingly, it's jazz or more modern r&b that clears your head.

"i'll see you there, then. text me if something comes up or you'll be late." you tack on, trying not to seem desperate. not to seem like this is a date, of course, which it is not. he's just being friendly, eavesdropping on your personal conversations and connecting over hobbies and offering his time outside of work when he could be, for one, sleeping. "i'll see you at 8:30, doctor."

-

you splurge for a cab, figuring the moment allows for it. plus, your feet ache from hours on your feet and the kitten heels you're wearing don't exactly help. after paying the fee, you step out onto the sidewalk and smooth out the creases in the dress you chose. it's the original outfit you were going to wear: a little black dress that hits above the knee paired with black heels that have bows on them, a small purse around your shoulder. except, you did your makeup instead of going bare face like you originally would've. it's armor to face multiple hours with the man you've been crushing on for months. sure, you've shared beer in parks and much-needed coffee on the roof, but nothing outside of the confines of work. nothing like how he looks now, waving at you awkwardly as he walks down the street in dark pants and a button-down paired with a jacket to stave off the chill. it shocks you for a second -- the first time you've seen him out of his scrubs. he comes to stand in front of you and beams a little, his cheeks pulling up. he's more relaxed without the weight of the ER on him and you yearn to see him like this a thousand times more.

"hi."

"hi."

you stare for a second before reminding yourself that you are not a teenager and can have adult conversations. except this is your boss, a fact you keep forgetting. "i honestly imagined you showing up in scrubs." you tease, gesturing at him to follow as you make your way to the entrance. he chuckles, a low tone that hits like a shower after a long shift, needed and soothing. "i like your dress, too, doctor." he replies. your skin heats at his compliment, glad you're not facing his direction. you wander through the side hallway that accompanies the front of the restaurant, pausing a little before the secret door. before you approach, you turn to him. "you don't have to call me doctor, robby." you remind him, tilting your head a little. he takes the moment to scan the length of your dress, the sheer tights that feed into your heels, before landing back on your face and saying your name. your first name.

it's the first time he's said it, you think. like a shock of epi to the veins, waking you up. his eyes darken and it must be a trick of the light, but you see his pupils expand. you grin shyly before turning and approaching the door. a gold-embossed slit in the door slides open and a pair of blue eyes blink at you. "password?" there's a sudden presence behind you as robby hovers, a touch away from your back. not the closest he's ever stood but you feel practically naked without your scrubs, like he's seeing your bare skin. "april 29th." you supply, clearing your throat as you remind yourself he's just being courteous.

the door swings open and you stifle a gasp. it's all mahagony wood and low lights, candles on every table with velvet-covered chairs and clinking bar glasses. an acoustic version of a leon bridges song plays as you make your way inside, robby only a step behind you. "isn't it pretty?" you turn your face up and there he is, staring down at you. "very pretty." he refers to the room, but his eyes stay on you, warm pools of chocolate in the lamplight. you find a table far enough away from the band where you can talk, even though your tongue is currently tied. robby murmurs something about getting drinks and you sit gladly, your feet straining from being put through even more walking. you set your purse on the table and close your eyes, letting your body finally relax as you take in the music. your head sways a little, the rhythm soothing you after another long-but-worth-it day in medicine.

"i wasn't sure what you wanted, so i got the specialty drink they were serving." he sets down what looks like a fancy dirty shirley with edible gold glitter swirling around. it catches the light and reminds you of the gold flecks in robby's eyes, illuminated by the candles. he sits down in the chair next to you, the table small enough for your knees to brush as you both face the stage. neither of you pulls away.

"they must have upcharged an extra $10 for the glitter." you take a sip and close your eyes, loving the fruitiness. a look left reveals his own drink, dark liquid in a glass tumbler. "part of the experience." he shrugs, nudging you with his knee. "plus, i know mohan wouldn't comp your drinks like i will." you giggle at that, keeping it at a low volume as the band continues. you take another sip for courage before putting the glass back down. "thank you, robby. for the drink and for coming." he takes a sip of his drink and sets it down. the table must be too small or his eyes really that bad, because he sets it so close to you that your knuckles brush. these accidental touches keep sending ill-advised sparks to your core, making you shift in your spot and press your thighs together.

when you gather the courage to look in his eyes, they seem to be on your thighs. a trick of the light, as they flick up and catch yours, no apology on his lips. "i wanted to-"

"hello everyone!" the saxophone player has the mic, greeting everyone with a bright smile. "thank you for coming to our little gathering tonight. it'll be a mix of jazz, r&b, and anything that sits right in the soul. we've got our singer coming on in about an hour but for now, enjoy the music." the bassist plucks a few strings and they start, launching into a louis armstrong song.

it's something close to peace that you feel. taking in the music silently, robby closes his eyes and leans back in his chair. you make small talk occasionally, learning more about him than you ever knew. how he used to live in chicago, how he's the older sibling of a much younger brother and sister off doing Great Things. you tell him about your favorite bagel spot that you stop by when you have the time and how sometimes, you think your roommate might hate you and not actually tolerate your late-night taco cravings. it's addicting, every smile he gives you, each one more endearing than the one before it. you like that he barely drinks, only sipping after a long conversation. you want to remember this, so you let your drink slowly lessen but don't ask for a second.

his knee stays against yours the whole time, a tender anchor to the moment.

after an hour, the singer graces the stage. her voice is raspy and low, perfect for the songs she picks. "these next few are perfect slow songs, in my opinion. and would you look at that, we've got some empty room on the dance floor." she launches into an etta james song about sundays and you can't help but gather your courage. "dance with me? if your feet aren't too tired, of course." you add, suddenly worried you overstepped. he shakes his head, stepping out of his seat and gesturing you forward. when you look back, you watch robby tuck your purse under his coat and your heart aches. just a little.

at first, you feel like a kid at her first dance. there's too much space between you, his hand so high on your back that it almost reaches your neck. it's hard to move together this far apart, so you take a deep breath and step closer. "this okay?" you whisper, face inches from his. he nods a little sharply, but steps closer until your cheek is flush to his chest. "it's perfect." you smile to yourself and lose yourself to the music.

as more people join the dance floor, robby pulls you snug to his chest. "having fun?" he asks, lips grazing your ear. his hand slides lower, still on the small of your back. it's the most you've ever touched him, felt the woodsy scent of his cologne and the hardness of his torso. "yeah." you mumble, drunk on the music and his presence. he seems to understand, tucking your head under his chin as you sway, his other hand tightening in yours as you grip his shoulder lightly. the singer croons about love and loss and you feel it, right under you.

after a few more songs, the band takes a break. when you pull back from robby, something has changed. he has to have felt this pull in your chest, the one tethered to your heart strings. "take a break with me?" you nod to the quiet hallway that leads to the bathrooms, perfect for a break from the crowd. he follows you loyally, hand hovering at your back as you walk down the hall. voices fall away until it's just you two in some alcove between the bar and the bathroom.

he puts his hands in his pockets and leans against the wall. you take a deep breath and one step forward.

"robby."

his eyes squint when you don't follow with a question and widen when he realizes what you're asking, or not asking.

robby swipes a hand down his face before it falls to his side, tapping the top of his thigh. "we can't." he reasons. your toes touch his shoes, shiny ones you didn't even imagine him owning. "says who?" you murmur, standing your ground. both of his hands are at his sides now, flexing and unflexing. if he wasn't wearing long-sleeves, you'd be tracing the veins. "the pittsburg medical board. gloria." he answers, not doing anything to move from where you stand. this time, it's him who straightens, bringing him closer to your heaving chest.

"i'm not going to tell them." you murmur. there's an instant sense of a mistake as he leans back into the wall. "it's not like that for me. it's- i'm not a casual person." the confession is more than you were hoping for, a long-forgotten dream that lay buried in your heart. "it's not like that for me either, robby. i really liked tonight. i want to do it again."

strong, capable hands cup your face. his thumbs swipe under your eyes, probably ruining your makeup, as he tilts you into his eyesight. "you have no fucking idea how long i've waited for this." he confirms, the tips of his fingers brushing your jaw. "really?" you plead, off-kilter from his sudden admission. "since you found me on that roof, still soaked in blood from two child GSW's." a year and a half ago. your heart pounds and you smile.

"can't deny you anything when you look like that." you're not entirely sure what he means -- when you're covered in blood or when you're in this dress? doesn't matter.

"won't you kiss me, then?"

and he does.

robby kisses like a man possessed. his hands on your face stay there, keeping you open even as you gasp into his mouth. it's not sloppy but toes the line as he keeps himself restrained, only allowing his tongue to peek out when you moan in delight. robby leaves little bites and licks with every sound you make, letting you melt into his arms with your arms around his shoulders.

"i don't want our first time to be tonight. i want to do it right." he demands into the wet heat of your mouth, covering the burn of his words with a solid kiss. you agree but still hitch your leg up around his waist as far as your dress will allow. "these fucking tights." he nips your jaw and you giggle, melding yourself further into him. "c'mere."

you lead him to a one room bathroom, locking the door behind you. instead of the perfectly good countertop, he corners you against the wall, hands sliding up and under your dress. "this okay?" he asks and you whine, pushing your hips further into his grasp. your dress gathers at your waist as he finds the band of your tights digging into your skin. "you gonna let me taste?" you nod, practically begging.

he yanks down your tights and you ignore the sure sound of them ripping, glad they were a sale purchase. "i'll buy you new ones." he promises your inner thighs, kissing gently upwards. with your demolished tights, you're able to swing one leg over his shoulder as he lowers himself onto his knees. you've been wet all night from his touches and it doesn't surprise you when he has to peel your lace underwear off, slick clinging in strings as he works them to the side.

"so wet for me. i know, baby, i know." he hums as you whine impatiently, moving forward until his words land on your empty cunt. he works you like an expert, splitting your folds open as he licks a stripe up and down. almost all the way down.

robby isn't like the college boys who treated this like a task. he lavishes you with kisses, small sucks to your clit that end when you start bucking. the tip of his tongue teases your hole but doesn't go in, seemlingly leaving it for another time. his nose, that strong nose you always catch yourself admiring, presses against your clit and you jolt from the pleasure of it. you fuck yourself a bit on it, encouraged by his moan that pulses through your core. the friction switches between his nose and his tongue and you can't get enough, that tell-tale pressure building in your lower stomach.

"robby, i'm close." you admit, gasping when he sucks your clit even harder. waves build and tense in your core as you chase the feeling, moving your hips without thought. "c'mon, honey. come." he mumbles, muffled by your thighs. like you do everyday in the ER, you follow his command, moaning as you tense and flutter around him. he guides you through it with sloppy licks until you're pushing him away, overstimulation creeping over your shoulders.

his beard is sopping with your slick, something he doesn't seem to care about as he emerges after fixing your underwear. deft fingers guide your feet out and into your heels as he fully frees you of the ripped tights, little brushes to your ankle bone going straight to your heart. it's only after he throws away your tights does he stand, eyes glittering.

you look down at his cock clearly straining against his trousers. when you reach for it, his hand stops you, stroking the soft skin of your wrist. "tonight's not about me." one part of you is disappointed but the other is dreadfully tired, needing rest after all of this excitement. "thank you, robby." you say, unsure of how to feel the silence. his hands grip your waist and he kisses your forehead before he pulls back, thumb swiping over your bitten lips. "call me michael, honey. you want to stay or you done for the night?" you shake your head instantly, exhaustion deep in your bones. "take me home, michael."

-

when you wake in the late morning, he's still in your bed. if he hadn't been, you would have thought last night was a jazz-induced dream. instead, he's murmuring to someone on the phone sternly. your eyes trace his bare chest down to his boxers, the same chest you fell asleep against last night. you lay a hand on his chest and he covers it with his own, seemingly done with his phone call. "who was that?" you ask, too curious to hold back. "HR." he grins. "haven't even asked me out properly and you're already calling HR." you grumble, inching closer until he gathers you in his arms, kissing the top of your nose.

"will you go out with me, doctor?"

-

writing this was a fever dream.

if you haven't seen noah wyle dressed up, i highly encourage you to.

[spookysanta]

Grills. (drabble.)

Pairing: Michael B. Jordan x reader

Warnings: a baby amount of smut, bad writing. minors DNI.

UNEDITED.

yoooooo i've risen. i saw sinners twice already and the only thing on my mind is that man and those grills. i've missed my peeps! hopefully y'all are well. you can tell i'm a bit rusty, but more will be coming soon!

I’ve never been one to be overly impressed with them. Sure, they’re attractive. But there’s nothing about them that’s really caught my eye.

Until this. 

He’s worn them before, yes. He’s drawn himself to them for other press runs — I mean, Black Panther had him wearing grills in the movie. So you’d think I’d be immune. 

Clearly not.

I can’t help but imagine him wearing them with me. His iced-out grin glinting in the moonlight as his chiseled frame towers over me, absolutely demolishing whatever inhibitions I had from the work day prior. Or his slight — adorable, might I add — lisp of his words grunting in my ear, the diamonds on his teeth grazing at my skin in a way that could only be defined as sinful. 

Or, most damningly, the diamonds grinding against my clit — with every nibble and tug, his mouth has an added layer of pleasure that rocks my world. 

Do grills leave a mark?

I wonder if he’d leave fang prints in my ass —

“Hey, you.”

I damn-near spilled my coffee over myself at the surprise. He’d just come home from his most recent interview, where the cast of his latest film, Sinners, answered questions about each other. Shortly after, he had a photo shoot with, you guessed it, a set of grills in his mouth.

I intentionally didn’t go to either of them, opting to keep my mind.. somewhat clear.. as I worked on an upcoming project. And it’s funny, his co-star, Wunmi, could spot my unease from a mile away at previous interviews — “You can’t get enough of him, can you?” she’d asked, Manchester accent peeking through with a smile. “I could see you undressing him from across the room.”

Yeah, no shit, babe.

I quickly snapped back into reality before he could pick up my neediness. “Hi, love.” I greeted as he entered the kitchen, taking my mug from my hands and sipping my coffee, wincing at the taste. “How was it?”

“Good. Missed you there though, everyone asked if you were OK.” He shrugged. “Also, this is nasty. How are you drinking this? It’s pure sugar.”

“I like it. Because it is mine, y’know.” 

Humming with a slight roll in his eyes. He leaned down to meet my lips with his. He was right, though; his lips tasted coyingly sweet. His warm mouth engulfing mine, I set my mug down on the counter behind me to free my hands so I could wrap my arms in his warm embrace. Breathlessly, he mumbled against my lips, “Love you.”

“Love you more, Kari.”

His grin was immediate. That nickname was his weakness. Sure, I’d call him a plethora of other names — “bear”, “lover”, “honey”.. But Kari, an abbreviation of his middle name, was unique. He’s told me that it makes him feel “warm inside”. 

And I almost didn’t catch it when my eyes darted down to his mouth. His grin was coated in silver, canines ever-so pointed as they were enwrapped in diamonds. 

My breath escaped shakily.

“You good, babe?” His eyes bore into mine. “You seem unsettled.”

I cleared my throat, leaning against the cool marble of the countertop. “Yeah, no. I’m good. Great.”

“Mhm.”

“You just look nice, is all.”

“I look nice.” He repeated with a chuckle. “You saw me getting dressed this morning and you weren’t nearly this breathless.”

Here’s the thing. Michael’s an ass. He knows he’s an ass, and truly, he takes pride in his cockiness. 

When he’s freshly showered after the gym, sauntering into our bedroom from the en suite with his towel riding low on his hips, happy trail on full display, and his muscles beckoning me forward, my imagination has my mind racing a mile-a-minute. But then, in his assholeish ways, he chuckles out, “Like what you see?”

Oh shut up.

Or when he has me on all fours, pounding me into the mattress. My face buried into the pillows, moans and whimpers muffled into whispers into the fabric. His calloused palms grip my shoulders and pull my upper frame back, just so he can hear what he does to me. “I need those screams, baby. Le’me hear how good my dick is.”

“Y’know,” I tried not to let my face show the fact that just his eyes on me, with that stupid grill in his mouth, were enough for a ball of pleasure to grow in the pit of my stomach. “you just look nice. I’m taking it all in.” 

“Sure.”

“No, seriously! You do look nice.” It wasn’t a lie, either. A simple black t-shirt with his signature gold chain on display, in combination with dark wash jeans and sneakers. It was nice, don’t get me wrong. But that wasn’t my focus. I gestured to my mouth. “I like your, uh..”

“You like my grills?”

I nodded wordlessly, eyes fixated on his mouth. And again, he smiled cockily. 

“I was waiting for you to say something.”

My eyebrow cocked.

“You’ve been staring at my mouth for days now.” He stepped back with arms folded across his chest. “Since Ryan had the cast wear them at the premiere, actually. You’re so obvious.” 

“OK, but in my defense, you do look really good with them. Could you blame me?”

[iamjapanese]

Michael Kenna（British, b.1953）

Spring Poplar Trees, Pavia, 2019 Sepia toned, silver gelatin photograph 8 x 8 inches via more

[unconventialsailormoon]

Between Takes

Part two

Pairing: Micheal B Jordan x Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, Miscommunication, Angst, Comfort, Fluff

Summary: Jealousy grows during his tour with Hailee. You pull away - until Michael reminds you you’re the love of his life.

You don’t even mean to watch the interview.

It plays automatically, tucked into your “Suggested For You” feed while you scroll TikTok in the dark. Michael’s voice pulls you in,familiar and smooth, laced with charm, but the laugh that follows? That laugh isn’t his.

It’s hers.

Hailee.

And suddenly, your full attention is on your phone screen.

He’s sitting on a press couch, fresh in a tailored suit, legs spread comfortably. She’s beside him in some designer outfit, shining like she belongs next to him. Like they were made to be a pair.

The interviewer makes a joke about their on-screen chemistry - “some of the most natural we’ve seen in years” and Hailee smiles, turns to Michael and says, “I mean, we did click right away.”

Michael chuckles. “From day one.”

Your stomach twists.

You click the comments—worst mistake of your life.

“They have insane chemistry.”

“I can’t even tell when they’re acting.”

“Okay but imagine if they dated for real 😩”

“Sorry not sorry—Hailee x Michael >>> anything else.”

“Ugh they look so good together.”

You swallow hard.

The top liked comment?

“This is giving ‘they’re secretly in love off camera’.”

You lock your phone.

And for the first time in weeks, you don’t reply to his “Goodnight, baby 🖤” text.

⸻

You were never supposed to feel this way.

From the beginning, Michael was careful with you. Gentle. Constant. Never making you feel like a shadow in his world.

He’d bring you to set during night shoots. Let you nap in his trailer. Kiss you before every take. Whisper “Mine” in your ear when he pulled you into him at wrap parties. Even when the cameras loved him, his eyes only ever loved you.

But that was before the movie dropped.

Before the chemistry between him and Hailee started trending.

Before people started making edits of them with captions like “we’re never getting a love like this.”

You tried to ignore it.

But fame has a funny way of making the real feel fake and the fake feel real.

Now?

You don’t answer his FaceTimes right away.

You send short texts. Excuses. “Tired” or “Busy today.”

You watch him light up stages and interviews and red carpets with her and every time you look in the mirror, you feel smaller.

Forgettable.

Not red carpet material.

⸻

Day Four of Distance.

Michael notices.

You know he does, he always does.

Your texts get quieter, your replies more delayed. He sends you a photo from backstage, he’s holding a slice of pizza, smiling like a goof and instead of the usual heart-eye emoji response, you send a single-

“Looks good.”

You know it hurts him.

But you can’t help it.

He calls that night. You ignore it. Blame sleep.

Even though you stare at the ceiling for hours.

⸻

Day Six.

The last straw is a TikTok.

A paparazzi video of Michael and Hailee leaving the wrap party of a screening event. He’s in his black tee and chain, she’s in a silver dress, and her hand is on his chest as they say goodbye. They’re laughing. She’s leaning in.

The comments section lights up again:

“THEY’RE DATING IDC.”

“Look at the way she touches him 😭”

“Why tease us like this if they’re not real?”

“I’m manifesting this couple.”

You close the app.

You close your heart.

⸻

Day Seven.

He shows up at your door.

Unannounced.

You hear the knock just as you’re sinking into your hoodie on the couch, hair up, eyes swollen from crying the night before. You check your phone, no text, no warning.

Another knock.

“Baby” he says from the other side. “Open the door.”

Your chest tightens.

You want to stay hidden.

But part of you knows if you don’t open it now, you’ll lose him.

So you do.

He’s standing there in a hoodie and sweats, cap low over his eye, jaw tight. Not red carpet Michael. Not movie star Michael.

Just yours.

His gaze rakes over you, messy, silent, raw.

“You been avoiding me?” he asks lowly.

You swallow.

“I’ve been tired.”

He steps in, closes the door.

“No. Try again.”

You can’t look at him.

His voice hardens. “Did I do something?”

You shake your head. “No.”

“So why are you acting like I did?”

“Because I’m trying, Michael!” you snap suddenly. “Trying to not let the world get to me. To not let those interviews, those videos get to me. But I see how she looks at you. How you look at her. And I-”

Your voice cracks.

“I can’t compete with that.”

Silence.

“You think this is a competition?”

He steps closer.

You step back.

“You think I’d do all this with you- love you, just to play pretend with someone else for the camera?”

Tears well in your eyes. “I think people are seeing it, Michael. I think they believe it’s real.”

He grabs your chin gently, forces you to meet his eyes.

“I don’t care what they believe. I care what you believe.”

His voice is thick with pain.

“Do you trust me?”

You’re quiet.

His eyes soften.

“Baby,” he whispers. “I love you. You know that, right? You think I’d fly home between cities just to see you if I was in love with someone else?”

You blink fast, trying not to let the tears spill.

“You weren’t answering. You pulled back.”

“Because I felt like an idiot,” you choke. “Sitting on the sidelines, watching everyone fall in love with a version of you that wasn’t mine. Watching them tell you she was better for you.”

He cups your face.

“And what did I say the first time I brought you on set?”

You whisper, “That I was the only thing that made it feel real.”

His thumb swipes under your eye.

“You still are.”

He presses his forehead to yours.

“Let them guess. You’re the one I come home to. You’re the one I wake up thinking about. She’s not you. She could never be.”

You close your eyes. A tear slips down.

His voice breaks.

“You been crying?”

You nod.

His arms wrap around you tightly, pulling you against his chest.

“You gotta tell me,” he murmurs into your hair. “Don’t shut me out. That’s how this stuff eats us alive.”

You nod again.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “I just felt… disposable.”

He pulls back just enough to look at you.

His voice is barely a rasp.

“Let me remind you how irreplaceable you are.”

[de-salva]

Hyomon study 1 (Lake Kussharo, Hokkaido, Japan, 2020)

Sepia toned gelatin silver print

© Michael Kenna (b. 1953, English photographer)

[aut1smkid]

Tumblr’s Object Sexyman polling comes out next month at 2:25 AM UST!!! Spring on over to the polls to vote for your favorite most sexy, swaggy, hot object show character!!! If you submit characters as of updating this blog, they do not count!!! Btw, I plan to start voting tomorrow! So be prepared to vote!!!!

Characters in the poll!

Silver Spoon (Inanimate Insanity Invitational)

Mephone4s (Inanimate Insanity S1)

Two (TPOT)

Screwdriver (Showvember S1)

Printer (Titletext[])

Words With Friends Tile (It's Time For The)

Liam Plecak (HFJONE)

Bryce Hansen (HFJONE)

Whippy Creamy (HFJONE)

Acid (Animatic Battle)

Bean (5SOS: Bean's Show / BFG)

Tree (The Power of Two)

Lollipop (Battle for B. F. D. I)

GPS (The Nightly Manor)

Fan (Inanimate Insanity)

Popcorn (Showvember)

Chocolate Bar (Extraordinary Excellent Entities)

Trophy (Inanimate Insanity)

Airy (hfjone)

Mephone4 (Inanimate Insanity)

Four (Battle for B. F. D. I)

Springy the spring (Inanimate Insanity Invitational)

Black Hole (The Power of Two)

Taco (Inanimate Insanity)

Ann (The Waiting Room)

Cane's Cup (Animatic Battle)

Kurasan (CFMOT)

Michael (Love of the S*n)

Sean (Love of the s*n)

Oodle (Animated Inanimate Battle)

Animatic (Animatic Battle)

Hourglass (Object Kerfuffle)

[tradfolkpoll]

american traditional folk song tournament

welcome to the american traditional folk song tournament! round 1 will begin shortly. a complete list of upcoming matchups is under the cut

i've been working on the railroad vs jay gould's daughter

all the pretty little horses vs gallows pole

omie wise vs virgin mary

jelly jelly vs green grow the lilacs

stewball vs rising of the moon

lily of the west vs rose of aberdeen

there is balm in gilead vs john hardy

erie canal vs mi y'malel

sept ans sur mer vs skip to my lou

hob ich a por oksen vs feuilles-o

the e-ri-e vs roll the old chariot

the cuckoo vs samson and delilah

santiana vs wild mountain thyme

blind man lay beside the way vs wind and rain

el cañutero vs haul away joe

old blue vs lauterbach

rock island line vs rye whiskey

motherless child vs black is the colour of my trule love's hair

roving gambler vs turtle dove

jesse james vs oh miss i have a very fine farm

down by the riverside vs blackest crow

arkansas traveler vs hold the fort

streets of laredo vs one morning in may

liza up a 'simmon tree vs st james infirmary

sloop john b vs we shall overcome

the crawdad song vs the wagoner's lad

cotton eyed joe vs foreman monroe

wade in the water vs wild goose grasses

go tell it on the mountain vs careless love

i bought me a cat vs sea lion woman

jubilee vs froggie went a-courting

single girl, married girl vs the bailiff's daughter of islington

go down moses vs little joe the wrangler

the water is wide vs go tell aunt rhodie

storms are on the ocean vs come along john

frankie vs roll jordan roll

captain kidd vs midnight special

worried man blues vs the chickens they are crowing

joshua fit the battle of jericho vs jam on jerry's rocks

did you feed my cow vs trail of tears

jane jane vs colorado trail

take this hammer vs long lonesome road

dink's song vs molasses

five nights drunk vs pay day

make me a pallet on your floor vs cape cod girls

john the revelator vs all her answers were no

engine 143 vs every time i feel the spirit

diamond joe vs call of the moose

michael, row the boat ashore vs farther along

buffalo gals vs boston come-all-ye

wayfaring stranger vs undone in sorrow

the unquiet grave vs the moonshiner

the longest train i ever saw vs banks of the ohio

shenandoah vs this little light of mine

how can i keep from singing vs i ride an old paint

little black train vs this train is bound for glory

the riddle song vs railroad bill

grey goose vs goin' down the road feelin' bad

when first unto this country vs cripple creek

pretty saro vs song of the boatman

cotton mill girls vs wildwood flower

fatal flower garden vs cumberland gap

twelve gates to the city vs git along little dogies

sliding delta vs darby ram

when johnny comes marching home vs down in the willow garden

down by the bay vs darling corey

oh freedom vs old chisholm trail

another man done gone vs deep blue sea

john brown's body vs matty groves

wabash cannonball vs ell corrido de gregorio cortez

down to the river to pray vs casey jones

tom dooley vs la delgadina

the old soldier vs cindy

the e-ri-e vs poor working girl

avondale mine disaster vs sun will never go down

greenland whale fisheries vs the dodger song

way down the old plank road vs railroad boy

lost jimmie whalen vs shady grove

watercresses vs remon

stagolee vs clementine

pay me my money down vs la rancherita

bulbe vs young hunting

little brown bulls vs we shall not be moved

i never will marry vs the dying soldier to his shipmates

golden vanity vs scarborough fair

bury me not on the lone prairie vs ox driver's song

little moses vs didn't my lord deliver daniel

what shall we do with the baby-o vs twelve gates to the city

handsome molly vs cigarettes will spoil your life

whisky johnny vs pretty polly

when the stars begin to fall vs solidarity forever

in the pines vs bootlegger's story

buffalo skinners vs siss net alli daag luschdich leewe

hallelujah, i'm a bum vs ain't it a shame

silver dagger vs bring me a little water, silvie

i'll fly away vs evil hearted blues

las posadas vs no more auction block

the diggers' song vs sitting on top of the world

green grass grows all around vs big rock candy mountain

corrina, corrina vs columbus stockade blues

hold on vs wreck of the old 97

old joe clark vs soon be over

follow the drinking gourd vs de colores

peggy-o vs house carpenter

springfield mountain vs the foggy dew

come all ye fair and tender ladies vs don't let your deal go down

johnny has gone for a soldier vs steal away

railroadin' some vs jan jansen

love is pleasing vs the devil's nine questions

lonesome valley vs we shall be free

geordie vs when i first came to this land

red river valley vs leatherwing bat

scandalize my name vs boll weevil

you are my sunshine vs down in the valley

audubon zoo vs poor paddy works on the railway

on top of old smokey vs the cherry tree carol

three ravens vs schpinn, schpinn

she baked a hoecake vs see that my grave is kept clean

barbara allen vs take a whiff on me

polly vaughn vs skip to my lou

nine pound hammer vs the wild wild berry

no hiding place vs deep river blues

hares on the mountain vs der rebbe elimelech

john henry vs jenny jenkins

didn't old john cross the water vs bury me beneath the willow

skin and bones vs the fox

knoxville girl vs house of the rising sun

mary don't you weep vs going across the mountain

[strategistsfav]

☾  ꕀ  𝓷𝓪𝓿𝓲𝓰𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

— this blog is an x reader centric blog only. additionally, i only write sfw content as of now. whether i'll tap into other sub-genres in the future will remain unknown for now.

— all gender identities are welcome on this blog, though i mostly focus on neutral readers.

— i'm willing to write dark content and topics, in fact i utterly welcome it.

— i'm a slow writer; like many people, i'm a pretty busy person, so you'll have to bare with me upon requesting.

— if i don't respond to your ask, don't take it the wrong way. this may be either because a) your prompt/idea doesn't inspire me all that much or b) i simply haven't seen it yet/haven't gotten the time to write it.

— i don't write for real people. no exceptions.

— lowercase is intended.

☾  ꕀ  𝓬𝓱𝓪𝓻𝓪𝓬𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓼

❧ arcane ambessa ✦ caitlyn ✦ jayce ✦ jinx ✦ maddie ✦ mel ✦ sevika ✦ silco ✦ vander ✦ vi ✦ viktor

❧ call of duty gaz ✦ ghost ✦ könig ✦ price ✦ soap

❧ five nights at freddy's michael afton ✦ william afton

❧ marvel captain america ✦ ironman ✦ spiderman ✦ scarlet witch

❧ mouthwashing anya ✦ curly ✦ daisuke ✦ jimmy

❧ sonic the hedgehog (any universe) amy ✦ blaze ✦ espio ✦ knuckles ✦ rouge ✦ scourge ✦ shadow ✦ silver ✦ sonic ✦ tails (platonic) ✦ tangle ✦ whisper

❧ the amazing digital circus caine ✦ gangle ✦ jax ✦ pomni ✦ ragatha ✦ zooble

❧ the last of us abby ✦ ellie ✦ dina ✦ jesse ✦ joel ✦ tommy

there are countless others so please ask about anything or anyone's that's not on the list

☾  ꕀ  𝓻𝓮𝓺𝓾𝓮𝓼𝓽 𝓻𝓾𝓵𝓮𝓼

❧ will do

✓ fics, headcanons, and drabbles.

✓ yandere partners

✓ gender-specified readers (male, female, etc.)

✓ platonic & romantic relationships

✓ whump

❧ won't do

✘ smut

✘ fetish content

✘ glorified abuse/dark romance content

✘ romantic relationships with monsters or minors

✘ dead dove

✘ a/b/o dynamics

[dareduffie]

Sinners (2025) Review: I LOVE MOVIES!

Really enjoyed the cigarette swapping scene in the beginning where Coogler made sure everyone in the audience knew he was taking this twin shit seriously. Lindsay Lohan walked so Michael B. Jordan could run a marathon.

I'm glad our modern vampire movies are taking this freak thing seriously. In a community obsessed with reverting to an idolization of purity under the guise of a so-called feminist freedom, thank GOD for spit in mouths.

On more of a normal note, Sinners made me feel the breath and the pulse in a way that few movies have with their sound. Kind of impossible to avoid the urge to start moving your body, even right there in the cinema.

Anyways. Culture goes crazy. Predictably, I enjoyed the interpersonal relationships more than the supernatural elements. BUT I'm a huge fan of this depiction of vampires and I love how shameless they were about the garlic, the silver, and the wooden stakes. Worse men—and here I'm jabbing fingers violently towards the MCU—would take the time to wink and nod at the audience to let them know they think their own movie is fucking goofy, but Coogler said NO. I am making a goddamn VAMPIRE movie and my VAMPIRES are fucking VAMPIRES. I respect it deeply.

We should give Michael B. Jordan a machine gun more often. That shit rocked.