#augh i miss having a job i would physically go to but nothing is close enough to safely walk and we live on a gravel road

[krembearry]

arahcuhghsuisk;ld

[rightsockjin]

Safe word: Yoongi

Summary: Everyone says that Yoongi, millionaire Casio owner, isn’t a Dom. And maybe they’re right, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t give it a try.

Rating:M

Genre: SMUT, a little fluff at the end.

Warnings: PWP. Hard dom! Yoongi! choking, shibary (Artful rope tying), graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse. Slight nipple play. Biting. licking. degradation. Pain. reader is slightly hurt but nothing horrible.

Word count: 3,968

Author’s note: Usually, I'm not into hard dom anyone but for some reason, when I saw this Yoongi in the music video, it awaked something I couldn’t quiet until it was written. You’re welcome.

“Fuck,” you whimpered as his hand made its way into your hair. He pulled at the roots, tangling his long pretty fingers in the locks. Your head was pulled back so that you could see the high ceilings of the casino. Your mouth hung open, your neck stretched to the point of pain. Your chest heaved as you desperately tried to suck in air. Tears pooled in the corners of your eyes.

“Did I fucking say you could speak,” he growled in your ear as he pulled your hair harder. Tighter. His other hand snaked slowly up your body, grazing over the curves on your chest then stopping exactly at your neck. His fingers wrapped loosely around it.

You tried to speak, tried to move your lips but all thoughts were absent from your mind. A tear ran down your cheek and into your hairline. Yoongi leaned in and licked it off your cheek before he bit roughly at the swell of your skin.

“What? Can’t speak now? Cat got your tongue?” He jolted your head as if to get your attention. As if your attention was anywhere but on the man and his silver tongue that was currently licking lightly up the side of your jaw.

“Answer me when I speak to you,” he groaned in your ear pulling your head so that it rested on his shoulder.

“I-” his hand on your neck started to tighten, your eyes widened.

“What’s that baby,” he asked, suddenly very soft. Your heart slowed slightly, the glimpse of the care and affection that he had for you shining through for a split second. He kissed your pulse point. Your body was tense. Then his fingers tightened more and more around your neck.

“Say it again,” he whispered.

“I-I…eugh,” you were light headed. The edges of your vision began to blur.

“What? Is my baby dumb?”

He let go of your throat, air flooded your body in a split second. Your body relaxed. All of your muscles felt weak.

“Would you look at that,” Yoongi said from behind you. You could feel his erection against your ass. The thin layer of fabric from your dress doing nothing to create a barrier.

“I didn’t realize my slut was mute.”

Without warning, he pushed you off his lap. Your knees hit the floor, strewn with paperwork that he’s swept off his desk, with a force that you knew would bruise later but you didn’t have time to dwell on it. Yoongi was kneeling in front of you. A glint of amusement on his features.

“Did that hurt?”

You didn’t answer, knowing from his previous statements that he wanted you silent.

“Are you deaf too?” He asked, a genuine curiosity on his features, like he wasn’t sure what was canon.

When you only looked at him expectantly, his confusion melted and his resolve returned.

“Fine. Don’t speak. If I hear one damn noise from your lips, there’s going to be hell to pay. Got it?”

You blinked at him. Fear coursed through your body but you couldn’t deny that his authoritative tone aroused you nearly as much as scared you.

He stood suddenly, your head followed as he sat back on his desk. He pushed aside a couple of pens so he could sit more comfortably. Slowly, almost like he was teasing you, he unbuckled his black belt. The gold buckle glinted in the faint lights.

He ripped it out of the loops of his pants and bent in half. With the loop he’d created, he tapped your neck and chin. The smell of leather hit your nostrils. Expensive. You knew as much. He tapped you chin twice more before he gestured with his chin for you to stand.

You did so on wobbly legs. Your heels felt uneven under your feet and you regretted wearing the highest and sexiest pair you owned.

He lightly traced over your shoulder, then your arm, then your hand with the belt. It was smooth and a little warm. When it reached your fingers, you lightly grasped the leather and he used it to pull you closer. A devilish smirk adorned his face. His sweet lips pulled up into a small smile.

It almost made you forget where you were and what was happening. You almost dropped the submissive act and wrapped your arms around his neck so you could kiss him. His eyes were filled with genuine adoration. Like he couldn’t believe that you were there. Physically in existence. But then it was gone and his features hardened once more.

“You’re gonna be a good little hooker and do what I ask of you. Understand?”

You could hear the smile in his voice. Like he was laughing at you. At his own audacity. He licked his lips and gave you a couple of seconds as if he was waiting for his orders to seep into your consciousness before he pushed you back slightly and unbuttoned his grey pants. Without hesitation, he pulled his erect penis out of his briefs and began to slowly stroke it. You swallowed hard. Your mouth watering at what little you could see. He smirked.

“Is this what you wanted baby? Hm? Is this what you asked for?”

A bead of precum glistened on the very tip of his member. The temptation to reach out and touch it yourself was maddening but you didn’t have permission. So you waited, your hands clenched at your sides.

He stopped moving his hand, confusion once again on his features when you said nothing. He raised an eyebrow but realization dawned on his face. A cute, panicked expression replaced the old one. He cleared his throat.

“What are you waiting for? Suck you dumb bitch.”

He braced himself. As if he expected you to hit him but when all you did was kneel before him, your skin throbbing from the impact of your fall from earlier, and leaned forward, he relaxed.

With just the tip of your tongue, you drew small shapes on the tip of his erection. He mewled, taking deep breaths and choking on them as he tried to breath out. Little ‘ugh’s of pleasure escaped his baby lips. Smooth and pretty. Like music to your ears. His eyes were shut. Like the visual of you was too much to handle. The feeling itself was already much too stimulating for him.

You licked slowly up to where the precum had been. It sat patiently waiting for you to claim it. And claim it you did. You flattened your tongue over the tip to make sure you collected every drop of it.

“Augh, that’s fucking it,” he moaned, his hand finding your hair once again. This time, it wasn’t as harsh and you found yourself missing the roughness he had displayed before.

Hoping to push him a little, you wrapped your mouth around his tip, just the tip, and sucked lightly. You looked up at him, pleading with your soft eyes as you swirled your tongue around it.

For only a second, you saw his expression. His eyes were wide, like he was caught off guard. His pupils were blown wide, his lips were parted in a silent ‘o’.  It was only a second, before he threw his weight back onto his arms. His head hung limply on his shoulders. He was so sensitive. So turned on. It made you feel powerful.

You took more of his member in your mouth, slowly, torturously. It was starting to get difficult by around the middle. You reached you and wrapped your small hand around the base to help you steady and push more in.

His hand in your hair tightened, then without warning, he yanked you off his penis. He looked furious. Lust was still prominently featured in his eyes but his lips were pulled in a snarl.

“When did I say you could touch me? Hm? Did I ever fucking say you could use your hands? Do you not know how to do as you’re told?”

He pushed you away fully, pushing his dick back into his pants. He didn’t bother to button them up. Instead he let them hang open, clinging to his hips slightly, threatening to fall. You braced yourself on your hands. Watching as he bent down to one of the many drawers on the desk, the one that was locked, and ripped it open.

“On the desk,” he growled. When you didn’t move, he looked over his shoulder at you.

“Now!”

You scrambled off the floor and fumbled onto the desk, where he had previously been. Your legs hung off the edge uselessly. Your breath was coming out in pants. Yoongi stood suddenly. In his hand, a bundle of silky looking red rope.

Your heart hammered against your chest. Excitement coursed through your veins.

“How tight is that dress? Can you bend your leg?”

Without wavering, you pulled your tight, black dress up your thighs and pulled one of your legs onto the smooth surface of the desk top. Now slightly exposed, Yoongi couldn’t help but look between your legs. You watched him stare, knowing that the thinnest silk fabric was the only barrier between the open air and your core. Something you had worn just for him to see.

He seemed frozen for a second, admiring the juncture between your legs. His grip on the rope tightened and it was only when you whimpered slightly that he snapped back to reality.

“Did you just-…” he raked his eyes over your face, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.”

Yoongi blinked at you after he finished speaking, again waiting for something that didn’t seem to come.

“You can speak now. Understand? I need you to tell me if I’m tying these right, or if they’re too tight.”

“Okay,” you agreed, watching him unwind the rope nervously. You couldn’t help the smile on your face as he began to wrap the rope around your bent leg so it stayed that way. He wound it slowly under your knee then tied a sturdy knot on the inside of your legs. He repeated the process once more, but lower on your shin and thigh. Then one final time close to your ankle.

There was still a lot of rope left. You wondered if he was going to just ignore it and stop where he had on your leg. For a beginner, you thought he’d done a decent job. You would be pretty satisfied with his work.

“Is this alright?”

“ It's fine,” you assured him, your eyes bright with enthusiasm.

“Okay I need you to put your hands behind your back,” he instructed. Your eyes widened.

“Yeah alright,” you said, obediently sitting up. Without waiting, he wrapped the rope once more around your ankle then, with a good amount of pull, he dragged it to your wrists. He wrapped it around them a couple of times before stringing it through and tying another nice knot to hold the bond in place.

You couldn’t see what he was doing anymore but you felt him tying more knots up your arms. Your chest pushed forward as he got to your shoulders. He slipped the remainder of the rope under your breasts, still covered by your dress. He tied the final knot in the center of your chest then stepped back to fully look at you.

“How does that feel?”

You took a second to try to move. When you moved your hands behind your back, your leg was pulled back and away from the other one. Your chest was also pressed farther into the air. You had to hand it to him. This tie was smart. The more comfortable you tried to get, the less comfortable you became and the wider you were spread for him.

“Perfect,” you praised. A slight blush decorated his chubby cheeks and his smile, mostly consisting of his gums and his cute teeth, made an appearance.

“I was worried it would be too much.”

“It’s good,” you said again, “I’m impressed.”

He graced you with his smile for only a second longer. Then he was back to business and his smile thinned into a hard line.

“Great. Be a good girl and let oppa fuck your brains out.”

The abrupt change left you breathless. He pounced on you like a lion. His hands on the nape of your neck so he could push your lips to his. You let him. His teeth nibbling and biting at your lips. He sucked them into his mouth and massaged them with his tongue.

You moaned against him, your chest was pressed firmly into the dark grey vest of his suit. You desperately wanted to run your hands through the top of his hair. To touch his undercut. To pull him closer, but it was impossible and it only made you more excited.

Yoongi reached behind you and pushed your arms as far away as he could without truly hurting you. Your legs were pulled apart as far as they could be in the position you were in. your dress rose to your hips. Yoongi looked down at your exposed core. Through the thin lace, he could see the arousal dripping from your core.

“You know just how to make a man feel good about himself baby,” he chuckled, licking his lips.

“Now the question is,” he ran two fingers up your clothed slit, “How are we going to get these pretty panties off?”

He pressed his finger to your entrance, some of your arousal seeped through the fabric. When he pulled away, a string of it clung to his skin.

“Fuck,” he groaned bringing his fingers up to his lips and sucking it clean off, “Mashisoyo.”

You sighed, impatient to feel something, anything that could bring you close to the edge. So much tension had been built in your body that you felt ready to burst.

“Oppa, please…”

“What do you want, baby?”

“I want you.”

Yoongi smiled sheepishly then reached behind you, grabbed a pair of scissors and snipped the side of your panties on both sides. The cold metal of the blades sent a shock through your system. A little bit of fear wiggled into you but it was sated when he set them down far enough away from both of you that they wouldn’t be a problem.

He pulled the now ruined fabric off your core. The cold air of his office hit your burning skin.

“Look at that,” he whispered pushing your thighs even further to spread your folds, “You’re dripping on my desk.”

He clicked his tongue three times then blew at your core. You winced as he smiled up at you innocently.

“We can’t have that now can we?”

He pushed his pants and his underwear down so that they rested around his thighs. The striped button up hung loosely now that it wasn’t tucked. His erection strung out in the open air, the tip red and leaking, begging to be stimulated. He took it in one of his veiny hands and without warning, he pushed the tip into your opening.

Equally blissed out moans escaped both your lips. He was big. Not huge, but big to where it stretched you a bit farther than you felt comfortable even with the wetness already making it easier for him to slip in.

Your nerves were on end. He pushed in slowly, mirroring what you had done earlier with your mouth. His brows were furrowed in concentration. He met nearly no resistance as he entered you, but your walls continued to constrict around him. As if you were already close to your end.

When his hips hit yours, you felt yourself convulse. Your body was too sensitive. Too prepared. You were reacting as if you’d been edged multiple times.

“Be a good girl,” he reminded, “and let oppa use his pretty bitch .”

Without another word or confirmation from you, he pulled out almost entirely and began to relentlessly pound into you. With every thrust, he was hitting your clit with a decent amount of force, the stripped shirt creating a friction that felt delicious against your sensitive bud. He was still holding you up with one arm wrapped around your back. The other found its way onto your chest and pulled down the fabric of your dress so that your chest was exposed to the open air. You bore no bra, as the dress itself had cups in it, so you were left bare for him.

“These are mine,” he said though you weren’t sure he was talking to you, “all for me.” He sucked a nipple into his mouth for a second just to give you a taste of the pleasure his silver tongue brought.

“Fuck,” he groaned, pounding into you and nibbling at the sensitive skin on your chest. Over his shoulder, you could see yourself and him in the reflection of the glass. His toned ass was clenched as he thrust into your core, his pants low. What you would give to be able to touch.

You then noticed yourself. The way your hair stood on end. The disheveled appearance of your makeup. He’d ruined you and all your hard work in the past thirty minutes.

“Oppa, harder,” you managed to moan.

“Scream my name,” he countered.

In a moment of rebellion, you smirked at your reflection and said, “make me.”

He stuttered in his thrusts only for a moment, before he brought his face level to yours. He was enraged.

“What did you fucking say?”

You didn’t dare speak. Your confidence dwindled.

“What did you say,” he yelled, getting closer to your face, his breath hitting your skin.

“O-oppa?”

“Again,” he snarled, starting to move again, faster and deeper than he had before. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as pleasure filled you to the brim.

“Say it or I’ll stop damn it!”

“Oppa!”

“That’s what I thought, slut.”

Little screams left your bruised lips. Adrenaline was coursing through your limbs. Your leg was falling asleep. It prickled as Yoongi thrust in and out at an inhuman speed.

“Oppa I’m…”

“You’re close?” He asked not faltering once as he leaned down to your chest again.

“Very,” you answered as he took your nipple in his lips and sucked, writing hangul on the sensitive skin.

Your body tensed suddenly. As you were about to fall over the edge, Yoongi’s hips stuttered again. He kept pushing. His lips and tongue not letting up. Your orgasm hit you with all the force of a wrecking ball. You moaned loudly, your head thrown back in ecstasy.

Your walls fluttered around his member and only then did Yoongi let go of your nipple in favor of planting open mouthed kisses on your chest.

“I’m almost done baby. Hold on,” he assured you as his speed and accuracy became questionable. He was struggling to hold you up. You tried to help by leaning on your hands, effectively opening your legs to a ridiculous angle.

“Shit, that’s it,” he groaned as he pumped himself in one more time then stilled deep in your core. His member swelled in your walls as he ejaculated warm stripes of cum into you. You counted it once, then twice, then thrice. Each time, you felt more full and wet. Each burst of ejaculation hitting your walls with a power you hadn’t felt before.

It was maybe a minute later when he finally seemed to have finished. His arms were shaking and he was sweating slightly. He was swallowing hard and breathing even harder. Panting even.

Instinctively, you tried to reach up to hold him close to you but your restraints were still in place and all you managed to do was push your breasts farther into his face.

He nuzzled into them for a second, kissing each one then kissing his way up to your lips sloppily.

“Sorry,” he said, “I didn’t ask you if that was okay.”

You giggled, pulling against the restraints again and hissing when they dug into your skin. Yoongi blinked as if aware once more. Both of you looked at your knee which was still bent up at an awkward angle. An ugly purple bruise was already forming.

Panic filled Yoongi’s eyes as he looked around for the scissors he’d used to cut your underwear off.

They were a little too far out of reach for the position you were in. Reluctantly, he pulled his slowly softening member out of your center. A thick bead of cum instantly rolled out of you. You winced at the unpleasant sensation but said nothing. Yoongi pulled his pants up and quickly buttoned them before he grabbed the scissors and ungracefully cut you out of his hold.

As the rope fell away from your skin, you felt feeling return to your leg. He cut your wrists last, then pulled the offending ropes off of you.

Carefully, he straightened your leg. Now that the adrenaline was wearing off, the pain of what had just happened started to hit you.

“I overdid it, didn’t I? I’m so sorry baby,” he said opening another drawer and pulling out some wet wipes. He carefully cleaned between your legs.

“I’m so sorry! This is what I was scared of. People are going to think I beat you!”

“Yoongi,” you breathed, placing a tender hand on his shoulder, “It’s okay. I’m okay. The bruises will fade. You did well.”

“But I hurt you,” he whispered, looking into your eyes apologetically, the internal turmoil clear in his gaze.

“Not badly. If it was anything I couldn’t handle, I would have stopped you. I enjoyed it,” you affirmed.

“I don’t like how I spoke to you either,” he said, not looking at you. He seemed sheepish, embarrassed.

“Yoongi look at me,” you said, taking his head in your hands, “It was a scene. It wasn’t real. We had sex, and you said things in the moment and if I’m being honest, it was a huge turn on. I don’t regret what happened. Neither should you. You’re kind of good at this rope thing.”

Yoongi looked into your eyes, worried that you were lying for his sake, but when he saw no signs of you fibbing, he sighed and stood up straight.

“You promise?”

“Yes. I’m the one that asked you to try in the first place! I’m just glad you enjoyed it as well. You did enjoy it didn’t you?”

Still somewhat ashamed Yoongi nodded, tucking his shirt back into his pants. You watched him, wishing you could remove his shame. There was nothing to be ashamed about, when you had asked for what he’d dished.

“Thank you,” you finally said. This got his attention. His eyes wide and questioning.

“For what?”

“Indulging me. You were really hot,” you shrugged, swinging your legs even though it hurt just to make the point that you were okay.

“You’re welcome,” he relented, “but next time…let’s take it down a notch okay? I don’t want you to be really hurt.”

“If you want,” you paused, a slight bit disappointed, “but that’s what the safe word is for you know?”

“Ah right…honestly I forgot about it. I’ll try to keep it in mind for next time we do something like this. What was it again?”

Carefully, you pushed yourself off the desk and onto your unsteady feet. Yoongi wrapped his arms around your waist to keep you steady, a soft smile gracing his face as he looked at your disheveled appearance. He placed a soft kiss on your hairline before he nuzzled your skin with his nose. You giggled, planting a kiss on one of the buttons of his shirt, finally being able to touch his mused hair.

“Dynamite.”

Read the rest of the series! Here!

[nat-20s]

Top 5 Breakdowns over David Tennant- any fandom/show/ play you've seen? I really liked the dw one you did, just hoping you could expand over/ include other things he's been in.

Oh anon you are QUITE the enabler thank you.

So this is like half actual breakdown list and half just like David Tennant recommendations in general because I love that funky little scot.

+1. This isn’t going on the official list because I already did the previous list you mentioned (i’m glad you liked it, btw!!!) but yeah. Doctor Who. He plays the doctor in a very fuckin uhh mercutial way (he plays a lot of characters that way and I am 100% enamored by it every fuckin time he just does it SO WELL AUGH) and like highs were so high and the lows were so low and he was so FURIOUS AND CRUEL but also so GENTLE AND KIND and like oof!! The multifacetedness bitch!!!! That’s what it’s all about babey!!!

5. Good omens. I mean, duh. There was no fucking way I was gonna survive good omens. Like, honestly, even without miss tennant I wouldn’t have survived it because HA HA HA HA H O L Y SHIT MY FAVORITE BOOK FOR THE LAST DECADE WAS GETTING AN ACTUAL SCREEN ADAPTATION I GENUINELY DID NOT THINK WE WOULD EVER BE HERE THIS SHIT IS LIT. but then but THEN it was like. The way that he portrayed crowley definitely fit into a particular niche that david tennant KILLS. Like god okay I could spend an whole fucking essay on this point so I’m gonna distill this down to just. THE moment that I was like “okay okay okay okay fuck I’m GOING THROUGH IT” was when his voice cracks as he tells aziraphale that he lost his best friend because like in context OOF and out of context I have been Pavlovian trained for the past decade to Utterly Lose My Shit when David Tennant is like this close to crying and he expresses that with his whole body THE ASSHOLE! LET ME REST. I THOUGHT I WAS OVER THIS MISTER!!

4. The Escape Artist. Lesser known (I think?), but a VERY GOOD miniseries! The tone is much darker, and he’s a much more serious character. Similar vibes, role wise, to broadchurch. I’m not sure how much rewatch value it has but watching it for the first time had me like MISSION STATUS: SICK!!!! It’s like a cat and mouse mystery and like. I’m not gonna go to in depth into the story because I think it’s more enjoyable to go into it not knowing much and too me it was one of those things that took like 3 hours to watch all of and a full week or two to like. Process. Also I’m not usually one for drama and I was ABOUT it so I would recommend!!!

3. JESSICA JONES (season 1). Holy FUCK dude. Definitely his darkest and most evil role, and the subject matter is VERY heavy and I definitely would NOT recommend it for everyone because it could be, how you say, triggering as fuck or even just because it is incredibly dark and that might not be your thing. Funnily enough, it’s DEFINITELY not my thing, personally, I tend to avoid narratives about sexual assault because so many of them are, uh, ya know, bad, but Jessica Jones season 1 really is done FANTASTICALLY! The David Tennant breakdown was just a level of cognitive dissonance because I had never seen him play like a VILLAIN villain. I mean, yeah, he was Barty Crouch Jr., but that was for like 30 seconds and while the dude was creepy there was a layer of campy over the topness that is present in most fun fantasy franchises. I remember when he was cast as the purple man me and my parents were like. Yeah he’ll obviously crush the role because he’s talented but in the back of our minds we’ll probably still be thinking of like the doctor and I wonder if we can fully accept him playing the role. Yeah there was fucking NONE OF THAT. When he played Purple Man I never ONCE thought of his other roles and I didn’t even, like, think of David Tennant, ya know. I was just like oh shit this man is evil and terrifying and I want him dead! Please die!!! And yes, I know that that’s how acting works or whatever but also ACTING ya know!!! Of any of the roles on this list this one definitely made me be the most like SHE HAS THE RANGE because I really think it highlights how INCREDIBLY GOOD at his job he is!!! I have not ever rewatched Jessica Jones season 1 though because while it is honestly like a triumph of television it is also A Lot to deal with and I am very rarely in the kind of mindset where I’m able to watch it. But yeah. David Tennant knows what the fuck he’s doing and it is very good.

2. MUCH ADO ABOUT NOTHING BABEY. Literally I knew nothing about the play or why I should care but the promo material was like. Catherine Tate and David Tennant are costars again and I was like OKAY SIGN ME THE FUCK UP HELL YEAH HELL YEAH HELL YEAH. For real I think on screen chemistry Catherine Tate and David Tennant are one of if not just straight up my favorite duo of all time. They are just so DELIGHTFUL and ENCHANTING and BEWITCHING and basically I want them to costar in everything ever. @azirafeathers was like “sherlock holmes adaptation where she’s sherlock and he’s watson” and I haven’t stopped thinking about that since!!! I would give my left thumb or at least like a solid $60 to see that. Like PLEASE it would be PERFECT. I LOVE THEM. And god this production of much ado is definitely like. “Here’s Benedick and Beatrice. They’re two chaotic dumbass bisexuals that are like fives on the kinsey scale and they fall in love much to their surprise” and it’s TERRIFIC. That’s exactly what I like to see. Like it’s set in the 80s and the set design? The visual gags? The costumes? The soundtrack? THE PHYSICAL COMEDY? It all SLAPS. David Tennant really balances “fun and funky slut” and “utterly PINING idiot” so fucking well. I have said it before and I will say it again David Tennant peaks when Catherine Tate is being mean to him. Also really iconic to give him the role that is like the only man in the play that is (after a bit) CHUGGING his respect women juice. I mean LOOK at this utter buffoon.

I’m in love. This play made me a proud morosexual. Plus it’s all FREE ON YOUTUBE THE NEXT TIME YOU HAVE THREE HOURS AND WANT TO HAVE A GOOD FUCKIN TIME GO WATCH MUCH ADO!!

1. H A M L E T. So imagine that you’re 14 and it’s 3 am and you’re casually watching David Tennant’s hamlet on youtube or at least the parts they put up and you’re painting stars on your ceiling with glow in the dark paint and it makes you realize that you have an excess of black bile and a melancholic temperment and you’ll understand why, while this might not be my all time favorite david tennant role (though it definitely is high up on the list) , this is absolutely my number one David Tennant Related Breakdown. Hoo boy. This probably doesn’t come as a shock to literally anybody that knows me irl bc I Will Not shut up about Hamlet and it is this productions fault. Different people will respond differently too it, and I’m definitely 1000% biased because a: I love him and b: it was the first production I ever watched and it’s what got me On My Bullshit, but this production honestly makes me like. Get Hamlet. Or not get hamlet, personally, as a character, we’re never meant to fully understand him honestly, but it made me understand the ALLURE of the play. I watched it and I was like oh. Yeah. Okay. I can see why people have been obsessed with this for 400 years. I know why it’s considered one of the greatest roles and one of the greatest plays of all time. And I went absolutely feral for it. It solidified Horatio permanently as one of my all time favorite characters in anything ever. David Tennant has this tendency to put manic and desperate energy into the characters that he plays, and that of course works extremely well for hamlet. Plus, like, he plays characters that are drowning, that need the assistance and kindness of love to try and float, and even with that might not be able to keep their heads above water, and the characters that are opposite him are basically always wonderful. Because I am deeply deeply predictable, the core dynamic of Hamlet and Horatio’s relationship is probably like THE most appealing and interesting and important aspect of the play to me, and Peter de Jersey (who is absolutely INCREDIBLE in this production) and David Tennant pull it of breathtakingly beautifully. Every time I watch this I have to lie down for a while. Every time I THINK about this I have to lie down for awhile. So, yeah, number one David Tennant based breakdown is over his hamlet.

Honorable mentions

this gifset-I have not seen what this is actually from but it made me have a conniption. I’m in love with her. She’s my idealized self. I don’t know what to do with myself. I spent 5 hours looking at this now. What the fuck. 

The Decoy Bride- I didn’t have a breakdown over it BUT it is a recommendation. Very silly rom com, very much a comfort movie like music and lyrics or singing in the rain for me. Great for sleep overs or rainy sunday afternoons. 

Richard II- I haven’t seen it but based on one (1) clip and some stills I would be lost in the sauce for a week after a viewing. 

Nativity 2: Danger in the Manger- watch nativity 2 danger in the manger. 

Fright Night- jesus fucking CHRIST mister tennant went full slut

Casanova- Mister Tennant Goes Full Slut part 2- has blue colored contacts and it’s weird

[umbraastaff]

I Saw Seven Bounties, chapter 7

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[Ao3]

Phandalin is one of Barry’s most frequented locations as a lich. So, Kravitz reasons, maybe that’s where he comes back to life. Admittedly, he’s never (knowingly) found Barry in living form, but it’s been a slow week for bounties. He’s got a minute to poke around for his most important target, especially with the possibility of finding him at his most vulnerable: alive.

“Poking around” actually ends up entailing slinking around the shadows for a good bit of the day. As fate would have it, there’s a large, cross-country train passing through the city. It’s too perfect of an escape for Barry to take, he’s sure, but Kravitz slips into the darkness beneath the train anyway. What other leads does he have, after all?

He nearly jumps up through the floor the second he feels it-- muffled by flesh, but unmistakably Barry’s soul-- but he has to control himself. Barry isn’t nearing the record for Kravitz’s longest hunt by being a fool, and Kravitz isn’t going to catch him by being one, either.

Nighttime would be best, he decides: fewer witnesses, sleeping target, and of course the advantage of darkness. And so it’s in the early hours after midnight that Kravitz phases up through the floor and creeps towards the door he can feel Barry sleeping behind.

In retrospect, confusing conversations always seem to be Kravitz’s downfall when dealing with Barry. But he always seems so genuine… And then Barry’s tricking him and shoving him and running out the car door.

Kravitz slams against the door with all his weight, but Barry holds steady on the other side. They’re just inches apart, and the energy is deafening-- until it isn’t, suddenly. He shoves the door again, and it swings open easily, letting him stumble into the cold air. He catches a glimpse of movement, below. The bastard jumped. Several seconds later, he sees a red shape rise from the body just as the train takes the chasm out of his view.

There’s no hope for it now, he thinks, shutting the door and slumping against it. Now that Barry’s dead, he’ll be gone in seconds. It would be impossible to catch him here, but at least he’s spooked Barry into dying again; he’s easier to find when the lich stench isn’t buried under blood and bone.

A distinct voice cuts through his thoughts, jolting him. His whole mind goes blank to accept a single sentence: I-i-if you want a fight, Kravitz, I’m on the roof.”

It’s a trap, of course. Barry’s trying to distract him and escape. But Kravitz has nothing better to go off right now, and anyhow, it’s not as if Barry has ever actually done long-term harm to him, even with a planned trap. And if it isn’t a trap, well, punching Barry Bluejeans in the face seems like a rewarding prospect.

He rises up between the train cars. There’s a moment when he can’t hear anything, and he almost stops there. But just above that, he can hear again, as if he’d just passed through the world’s thinnest Silence spell. The wind blows audibly here, but the train now glides soundlessly over the tracks.

He sees Barry, several cars closer to the back of the train, walking towards him. His bright red cloak billows in the wind like fire, no longer obscuring his skull or his jeans. The wind shouldn’t be affecting it, actually-- Barry must be putting effort into making it move. But the energy coming off of him feels too strong to be an illusion.

A terrible rasping voice slices through the wind. “K r a v i t z,” it whispers. It’s Barry, definitely. “Howww dare you interfere… with my plans,” he growls. Kravitz’s eyes widen, just a bit. If he has another emotional explosion right above the train…

“Barry, let’s calm down…” he glances down at the train. “Perhaps we should take this somewhere else?”

Barry follows the downward look. “You don’t--” his voice is back to normal. “Oh, uh, shoot. Um. You don’t think the Silence spell will-- um, do you think we need a shield, too? Over the train? O-or we can move, yeah--”

Kravitz squints at him. “You’re still stable.”

“Yeah.”

“And… you want to fight. Me.”

Barry nods. “Yeah, it- it’s a good way to, uh, get out anger? You seem… mad at me, a whole lot, and I can’t give you-- I mean, I’m not gonna turn myself in, but I c-can do this.”

“You’re legitimately just here for a fight,” Kravitz reiterates blankly, sending out his senses for any sort of trickery. This is Barry in his entirety, though. Just there. Perfection may be unattainable, but this night sure is getting close.

“Y-yeah, uh, I mean-- we don’t have to--”

“Challenge accepted,” Kravitz says, skin melting away as he takes his own skeletal form. Barry will never come near if he fights with his scythe right off the bat, but perhaps Kravitz can wear him down before delivering a final blow. He summons a sword for the moment: long and silver, with black feathers sprouting around a red gem in the hilt.

Barry, startled by the enthusiasm, just barely manages to jump back out of range as Kravitz swings. The sword misses, but the burning energy extending from it manages to clip his hood.

“Agh! O-okay!” Barry shouts as the cloth knits itself back together, still sparking with bits of magic. “Great!” The sparks hop down to coalesce in his skeletal hand, and he points. Kravitz tries to move, but Barry’s finger follows him, and the electric strike shoots through his chest. Ouch. At least he doesn’t have any heart to stop.

In the moment he stumbles back, the ground feels uneven beneath his feet. Then it shoves upwards as soon as he’s off balance, throwing him to the other end of the train car. Of course, when he sits up and looks at the ground, it’s perfectly flat. Barry stays where he is, skeletal face betraying nothing. Waiting for the reaper to make another move.

Kravitz obliges, furious now, hovering back to his feet. They meet eyes, socket to socket, void to void. The darkness between them thickens until Kravitz can shape it, wrapping it tight around Barry to choke out any light.

He extends his senses through the artificial blackness and finds the lich shaking. To Barry’s credit, he tries to get out of range by lifting his feet and letting the train take Kravitz away. Of course, this isn’t something Kravitz will allow. He takes hold of a thread of the darkness to yank Barry back towards the train. Barry resists far less than expected.

He crashes right into Kravitz, radiating a heat and blinding light that shines through cracks in the darkness. Kravitz stumbles backwards, off-balance and blinded, and Barry collapses at his feet. The dark aura surrounding him breaks apart and dissipates.

Kravitz’s scythe materializes, and he slams the blade down. Barry rolls out of the way, passing right through his shins. The heat Kravitz felt before burns his legs with tenfold the strength, and it boils up through him, accompanied by a horrible sensation of being ripped apart from the inside. It isn't in his soul like last time, though-- it feels far too material. It’s eating away at his physical form.

Kravitz feels something shove through his back and through where his heart should be. He looks down to see a skeletal fist coated in flame, sticking right out of his chest. It looks like a ghost passing through him, but it feels like lava in his chest.

Panicked now, Kravitz forces one hand just far enough into the ethereal plane to get a grip on Barry’s wrist, and then he pulls it forward. Barry tumbles right through him and hits the train roof-- caught not by the metal, but by the Silence barrier, being made of magic himself. He looks like a slumped pile of cloth on the ground now, starting to shake with a series of violent coughs.

Kravitz is overwhelmed by a sudden nausea. Barry passing through his core didn’t burn him like the last time, but a lich is still a lich, composed of everything Kravitz is sworn to stop. So instead of taking a swing at his weakened target, he starts coughing as well. Souls were never meant to pass so close together that way.

“Augh, damn,” Barry says between coughs. “Are y-you okay? I’m-- I didn’t mean to hurt-- to, uh, startle you that bad.”

“Oh, startle me?” Kravitz shouts. His movements are too stiff for the energy in his words. “You provoke a fight and suddenly you’re concerned for my emotional well-being?!”

“I- I- I started this be- because- because I was con-- because--”

“I don’t get it, Barry Bluejeans! I don’t understand!” He looms over the lich as he gets to his knees. “Why aren’t you ever angry? Upset?! You’re a lich, for crying out loud! I’m going to drag you to hell, Barry Bluejeans, and you’re concerned for me.”

Barry does spark and twitch through that spiel-- telltale signs of instability-- but it’s more likely just him expelling magic. He says weakly, “I’m-- y- you're the only person that’s-- that I've had a fully lucid con- conversation with in almost… no, over three years, now. Of course I'm-- of course I would--” he puts his hands on his face and looks skywards. “I mean, okay, you-- I assume you usually deal with liches who g-gave up life for power. S-so their whole temperament is kinda-- it's guided by that bond to- to, uh, ambition and destruction. But the problem with that is, um, mental energy fluctuates, so they get an emotional high and then--”

“And then they crash, and the lack of defined purpose makes them explode, yes, this is my job,” Kravitz says, exasperated. “And you're special? You've got some emotionally-immune anchor, Barry? You're composed of emotions by definition!”

“Y- yeah, uh, yes. I can't explain the circumstances, exactly,” Barry says, and Kravitz rolls his eyes, “but my anchors are to my family, to love, which d-doesn't fluctuate the same way. A-and, uh, for better or worse, I'm prone to caring… e-even about people that want to k-kill me, I guess.”

Kravitz snaps back to himself at the last sentence. Neither of them have coughed for at least a minute, now. They're just… sitting around and talking. “You’re something else, Barry.”

He summons his scythe, but Barry barely seems to notice, looking past him instead. “Duck,” says the lich urgently.

Kravitz lets out a second of a laugh. “Ha! Really, again? You think--”

“Duck!” Barry shouts, and this time it's a Command, rattling Kravitz’s brain and loosening his knees.

It’s too late-- something slams into his back before he can fall, and it keeps going, destroying his physical form and leaving his soul scrambling to keep hold of consciousness.

He can't see or hear like this, but he feels a calming force wash over him: an assurance that if he falls asleep now, he will still wake up. Then he is passing through a dimensional rift, and then he is on the ground.

The moment Kravitz is awake enough to do so, he conjures up a basic skeletal form and clambers to his feet. His surroundings are about as dark as the night was around the train, but indoors. He’s in his office, in fact. Barry isn’t here.

--

Barry casts Command moments too late, and he watches Kravitz get hit by the outer wall of a tunnel the train is passing through. His body dissipates, and a glowing orb is left in its place.

The orb is no longer tethered by the train’s movement, so Barry lets go of the train as well to keep from crashing into it. “Kravitz?” he whispers. It doesn’t respond, but it keeps flickering like-- like it’s running out of energy. Oh no.

On impulse, Barry pulls on some of Merle’s teachings, from a long time ago. A cantrip: Spare the Dying. It’s classified as necromancy, but it requires divine assistance. Barry doesn’t know if the Pan in this world will listen to him, let alone any other gods, but he invites anything to to give him the magic for this one spell.

As a necromancer, of course, Barry knows that opening yourself to any power is a dangerous thing, especially when there are gods at odds with you. But in this split section of a moment, he’s ignoring a century’s worth of learned caution.

Suddenly, he is exhaling a dark fog that carries all of his warmth, and the wind begins crystallizing into ice as it blows through him. The fog surrounds the glowing orb, and then they both disappear.

Barry is suddenly sure of two things as his incorporeal form goes back to not having the nerves to feel cold: firstly, Kravitz will be fine. Secondly, if there were not countless laws in place stopping gods from interfering more directly, Barry might have just made a terrible mistake. He feels very, very small when these thoughts are put into his head, but it is not a new feeling.

Barry sighs and watches the train disappear into the distance. It would be too predictable if he tried to get to his destination now, right after being caught on the way to it.

Well, there will always be another chance. He was getting a bad feeling about heading to Glamour Springs anyway.