#he puts his whole ass into every role even when he knows the movie itself is shitty | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

seasonofthewicth · 3 years

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nobody does it like you do - act 1

I'm finally back with some more rowaelin! I started this fic in november last year and wrote the first 10k in 24 hours, but from then on this fic was a struggle... Thank you so, so much to @morganofthewildfire for sharing so much of your time to help me with this, this fic would not be here without you 💗 I'm so happy to have finally finished it and can share it on here. I hope you enjoy

CW: past drug abuse, minor character death, violence

7.7k - masterlist - ao3

When her agent sends her the script it’s not the first time she’s heard of Rowan Whitethorn, his name is written at the top under the heading director, which itself is under the big red text reading confidential. He’s been at this stuff for a while now, directed a couple of movies that popped up on her radar but that nothing ever came of for her, and he’s well known in the business.

He was even nominated for an Oscar a couple of years ago, and she watched the ceremony with Lysandra, slapping the bills into her outstretched hand when he didn’t win.

His movie had been far too fucking raw for him to have won, she knew that, a tale about a group of kids who witnessed a murder and how it stayed with them and fucked them up into adulthood, but it had stuck with her nonetheless and she’d put her money on him anyway.

She reads the section of script Dorian has sent her, tucked up in bed with a glass of sparkling water and her most comfortable sweater, leaning back into the mountain of expensive pillows she had Elide buy for her and pondering how so much money could end up so uncomfortable, and she knows it’s something special.

She realises she wants this role, almost to an uncomfortable degree, when she’s about five lines in. The heroine is bratty and rash, but serious and pained in a way that makes her completely fleshed out and Aelin wants to play her, wants to be her and embody her in a way that takes her out of the pit she’s in.

She hopes this could be what gets her out of it.

Aedion had tried to pull her out, gods bless him, dropping by her apartment every morning for weeks to check up on her with a coffee in his hand, topped with cream and two sugars the way he knows she likes. Each morning he let himself in with her spare key, the one she gave to him the day she moved in, wanting him to be able to let himself in whenever he wanted but also knowing there was no one else she wanted to give it to.

She would have given it to Sam, would have given everything to Sam, but he’s gone and she’s left sitting here, wondering how to salvage what’s left of her reputation.

What reputation she had even managed to build after starring in one mediocre TV show and a handful of low-budget movies. She knows deep down, and in a way her brain likes to remind her of when she’s at her lowest, that the main reason she isn’t a complete nobody is because she’s Evalin Ashryver’s daughter. Her therapist tells her every time she bothers to go to a session that having a famous mother doesn’t mean she’s a failure and that she has to recognise each of her successes as her own. She nods along every time, but she doesn’t believe her. What has she managed to accomplish truly on her own?

It hasn’t been made public yet that Rowan Whitethorn is involved in the film, she only knows because Chaol wrote the whole script himself and texted her to let her know when he signed on to direct. She’s known Chaol since she was eighteen and took her first solo trip to Rifthold, drawn to the lights of the big city and the almost magnetic pull of the heart of the industry. He’d stumbled upon her in a club she was far too young to be in and had pulled her out, sending her home in a cab that he paid for. Looking back she was grateful for his attempt to avoid what she knew later was an inevitability.

She had cursed him when he told her she’d still have to audition, but she gets it. She hasn’t exactly behaved in a way recently that makes people want to take a chance on her.

Stumbling out of clubs, eyes as wide as saucers and high as a fucking kite isn’t the kind of star casting directors are desperate to hire, but she’s trying to be better. She’s promised those around her that she’ll be better, and she knows that the only reason she hasn’t ended up in rehab is that she has an incredible therapist and a highly persuasive manner of dealing with her friends and family. The only reason they’ve taken that chance on her is time, and she’s grateful for that mercy.

She turns the page, hitting the final line for the third time. Chaol’s script is so good she’s read the few pages she’s been sent over and over.

She only reads scripts in physical copies, takes the time to print them out using her shitty printer that belongs right back in 2008, and she knows it’s wasteful but she allows herself that small luxury of the crisp paper in her hand as she delves into each new world. Her character is in the middle of a teary monologue that she knows exactly how she’d do, the way she’d halt her breath and choke out the words-- it’s not her character. Yet.

The audition is next week, and she’ll work her ass off to make sure she’s ready. Her usual pre-audition ritual involves taking up far too much of Lysandra’s time to practice reading the lines and filming herself time after time, take after take, and watching it back in the unholy hours of night until she’s happy she’s made an improvement.

Or at least that’s how she used to do it, nothing has made her want a role like this in a long while. She worries as she bites her lip, that wanting something this much means she’s getting over Sam. That maybe one day she won’t think of him and hear the pounding in her ears, won’t feel the lightheadedness that comes with a memory of their time together. Worries that if she forgets the sounds of his screams she’s failing him somehow.

She takes another sip of her sparkling water. It’s poured into a wine glass so she can at least pretend she’ll get the relaxation she craves. Alcohol was never one of her vices but she finds it’s better to be safe than sorry. It’s unhealthy as far as coping mechanisms go, but she’s been worse so it’s going down as a win.

Chaol told her some guy called Brullo is casting this one. She’s never heard of him, which is kind of rare. She’s been on the periphery of this bubble for pretty much her entire life, following her mother around her own movie sets and sitting on the wooden directors chair when her legs still dangled off the side, but if he’s like any other casting director in Adarlan she knows how to impress him.

When she reaches the last line of the part of the script she’s been sent, her mind wanders again to Rowan Whitethorn.

He’s the kind of director up and coming actors can only hope to one day work with, even though she’s pretty sure he can’t be much more than thirty, he’s built himself to a level where he can be choosy with his projects.

It's a well deserved privilege. Each of his works has stayed with her after watching, his style is gritty and dark, but grounded in a way that leaves her empty each time after finishing.

She wants this, and she buries the guilt she feels for that. Sam would want her to want this. She deserves it, or at least she hopes she can come to.

Dorian books her a mid-morning flight so she doesn’t have to wake too early before the audition, he’s a damn good agent and one she definitely doesn’t deserve with his seemingly endless patience, but she’s continuously grateful for him.

Aelin styles herself for it, ties her hair back and leaves the makeup to a minimum in a way that she hopes shows them she’s right for the part, that she can be the insecure little girl who experiences far too much. She knows she doesn’t have the sheltered innocence the character has, but she’s an actress and this is what she does. Aelin pretends for a living.

He’s also booked her a room in a pretty nice hotel for the night, she’s not sure whether he’s used her meagre acting funds or the funds from the account she knows he mom throws money into every month. It’s an argument she and Evalin have had repeatedly, she wants to stand on her own two feet, but she never protests too hard. The account kept the roof over her head when she was too busy snorting her life away to consider where her next paycheck would come from.

Aelin throws herself backwards into the crisp white bedding on the hotel room bed and takes a deep breath. The only luggage she brought with her is a carry on slung somewhere by the door and the room feels too empty to sit here and wait for the car that’s arriving to take her to the studio in just over an hour. If she sits here and waits the nerves will only build, and then she’ll itch for something to take the edge off.

She picks her phone up to text her cousin.

Jet lag from a 2 hour flight. Who would have thought?

Aelin waits two minutes for a reply, locking and unlocking her phone as she sits there, but one doesn’t come. Aedion’s probably at a training session and not checking his phone. Aelin runs a hand through her hair, careful not to dislodge the pins she placed carefully in it this morning, she needs to stop using him as her crutch. She knows he doesn’t mind, but it’s not right either way.

She needs to get out of this room.

The streets of Rifthold are busy and crammed as she meanders down them, clutching the takeout coffee cup she bought from a vendor with a stall at the side of the road.

People pay her no mind as she walks, the oversized shades hide her eyes that she knows are a dead giveaway for her membership of the Ashryver line. Even if she didn’t wear them, everybody else here wants to be someone, and so far she can still blend in if she tries.

She sends a text to the assistant organising the audition, it’s kind of shitty of her but she keeps it brief because she can’t remember their name, letting them know the car isn’t needed anymore and that she’ll make her own way there. She needs the stroll through the streets to clear her head.

Aelin needs to nail it. She hasn’t felt the twisting of desire so sharp in her stomach for a long time and the only way she’ll manage it is with a clear head.

She alternates her breathing with sips of her coffee, the taste is bitter but she keeps drinking. She pulls her phone out to check the directions to the studio.

Spontaneous isn’t a word Aelin would use to describe herself anymore, any longing to go with the flow died the minute she lost control. It’s safer now to plan, to make sure she won’t lead herself astray.

Brullo is a man in his mid forties, with dashes of grey seasoned through his muddy brown hair, and kind lines around his eyes as he smiles and shakes her hand. Aelin wipes the sweat off her palm on her jeans before clasping her hand in his.

The audition goes about as well as she can hope for, she remembers every line, and the other casting director is fairly natural reading the lines for her to act against. Aelin swallows back her tears after she finishes, trying to keep what dignity she can to end the audition when there’s snot threatening to run down her upper lip. It was a brutal scene to start with, but if she can pull this off she can surely manage the rest.

Brullo’s expression is carefully guarded as she leaves, giving nothing away, but Aelin thinks she did a good job, which is all she could have ever hoped for.

She’s staring at the tiled floor, mulling over Brullo’s parting words, thanks Aelin, our people will be in touch, when she hits something hard and warm.

She’s too busy dissecting those eight words to register exactly who it is with their hands clamped around the top of her arms, steadying her as she stumbles, but she looks up and her gaze meets that of a pair of striking, green eyes.

The man gripping her is easily over a head taller than her, broad and strong enough that she fights back the shiver that wants to roll through her at his touch. He’s staring down at her, the strong planes of his face drawn into a deep frown, with his strangely coloured eyebrows pulled in.

They’re a kind of silver that matches his short cut hair, and it shines in the fluorescent light of the hallway in a way that it can only be natural, but she’s never seen a shade quite like it.

“Sorry,” she manages to stutter out, still thrown from the vulnerability of her audition.

“It’s alright.” His voice burns through the words, his accent rolling in a way that raises hairs down the back of her neck. He flashes her a dangerous grin and she steadies herself. She knows what that look means. She’s used to the male attention, and as much as she hates to acknowledge it, she knows her looks are an element of how she’s got as far as she has. That and her family’s name.

The decision of whether to register in the guild as Aelin Ashryver or Aelin Galathynius was one she had spent hours deliberating over. Did she want the level of independence Galathynius would give her, or the reputation being an Ashryver would bring?

The man releases his grip on her shoulders, but not before running his hands down her arms until he reaches her wrists which he releases with a light squeeze. She takes an almost imperceptible step back, leaning back to breathe some air into her lungs. All she ends up doing is filling her mind with this man’s smell, inviting and intoxicating, a delicious combination of pine trees and snowy winter mornings.

“I don’t usually go around slamming into people like this,” she tells him, letting some of her snark slip through. He’s said two words to her so far but she knows he can take it, and she wants to play.

His grin becomes even more wicked and it truly is a sight to see. This man is built like a god; broad, muscular shoulders stretching the white button up he wears and she spies the dark lines of a tattoo threatening to slip past his collar.

It’s been a couple of months since her last mindless hook-up, and this man would more than do. The mischief glimmering in his eyes tells her he’d know how to make her gasp and beg.

“Slam into me anytime.” His words are a sensual croon and her mouth drops open slightly, but he sidesteps her before she can manage to speak again, nodding towards the door she’s come through. “Good luck with whatever you were here for.”

With that he’s gone, leaving her to turn and watch the way his grey slacks pull against his thighs as he walks away from her.

Aelin tries not to think too much about the outcome of the audition, and flies back to Orynth in economy class with a sleep mask tucked over her eyes lest she be recognised when all she wants to do is curl up in bed and be alone for a bit. That or get fucking wasted, and she can’t do that.

She tries far too hard to forget about the man from the hallway, forget about the way his voice had rumbled deep in her chest and the tug in her belly that his words had sent through her.

She begs Elide to come to a bar with her, and she agrees. Aelin needs to pay her more, maybe change her title from publicist to publicist-come-part-time-therapist-and-life-saver. Aelin’s not sure she has the budget for that really.

Elide would smack her if she knew Aelin’s thoughts. Would scold her for looking at Elide just like an employee as if they weren’t childhood friends and Elide hadn’t been there holding her hand through the whole Sam thing. As if she, Lysandra and Aedion hadn’t been her only reason for being here now.

A bar might be a risk, but she can sip her sparkling water while she browses the small selection of men that Orynth has to offer.

She enjoys the easy conversation she has with Elide, chatting about what their friends have been up to, even though most of them are mainly Elide’s friends at this point. After Sam she stopped speaking to everyone but those who were necessary. She couldn’t manage any more than that.

“You should come with us next time,” Elide is saying as she sips her own lemonade. Aelin knows Elide would normally choose a crisp glass of white wine over a lemonade and her sobriety solidarity touches her heart.

“Maybe,” she shrugs, noncommittal.

The look Elide wears tells her she’s debating pushing the issue for the millionth time against the risk that Aelin would pull back again. She hates that she does this to her friends so she sighs.

“Text me next time,” she tries. “I’ll see if I’m free.”

Elide offers her a thankful smile, and Aelin returns it, trying to tell herself this is what she needs and that she shouldn’t just stay locked up thinking about Sam.

There’s a dark haired guy at the bar catching her eye, his jeans are far too tight and his shirt is ridiculous, but she can see the body beneath and his face is striking. Elide notices her stare and smirks.

She likely knows why Aelin invited her out tonight, but doesn’t mind. Lorcan’s probably waiting for her at the home they share, waiting for her to come back so they can be in love. Aelin hates the bastard, except she doesn’t. She introduced her friend to the tall, dark and grouchy hockey player at the wrap party for the shit teen movie she did a couple of years back, and she’s big enough to admit she wants what they have.

She had what they have.

What’s left in her glass slips down her throat easily in one mouthful and she promises to text Elide tomorrow before slipping out of the booth and over to the guy at the bar.

“You going to just stare at me all night?” She asks with a sly smile. “Or did you plan on doing something about it at some point?”

His smile makes him look even more attractive.

“Maybe I was waiting for you to make the first move, a beautiful girl like you can be intimidating.”

It’s a shit line and she rolls her eyes, but tugs him into a cab back to her place anyway.

“Please.” Her voice shakes as she begs. “Please don’t do this.”

The man in front of them scoffs and Sam squeezes her hand, his palm rough against her own.

“Aelin, baby. It’s okay, just do what he says.”

He lets go of her hand and turns back to the guy in front of them. His face is covered by a black mask, only two slits show her the dark brown of his eyes. She can barely look away from the knife he holds out in front of himself, it’s pointed at Sam but that doesn’t make her feel any better, it makes her feel worse in fact.

“Your wallet,” the guy demands.

Tears are rolling down her cheeks, fat and hot, as she fishes around in her bag for her purse.

“Just dump the whole thing,” the guy growls, irritated, but she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock and she can’t focus. Can’t breathe.

Sam’s voice is steady by her side as he throws his own wallet onto the street in front of them.

“Alright, man. We’re doing everything you say.”

“Hands up.” The mugger’s voice is sharp. “Don’t fucking move.”

She raises her arms straight in the air, trying to control the way her hands are shaking and the attacker ducks down to grab their things.

She lets out a tiny whimper and feels Sam spin to her, his eyes begging her to trust him. No, she shakes her head.

“I said don’t fucking move,” the guy yells and lunges for Sam.

His scream cuts the night air and she whirls, hands dropping into the air between them as he drops to the ground. The mugger takes off, sprinting down the empty street and she falls to her knees by Sam’s side.

In the dark, the pool spilling out across the floor by Sam’s side just looks black, but she knows that really it’s red. She’s not stupid. His face is twisted in pain and her hands flutter around his torso before she manages to pull back the flap of his jacket.

There’s a hole in his white t-shirt and now her jeans are wet where she kneels.

She needs her phone, needs to call someone who can make this all better, but her phone is gone.

She presses her hands against his side and his eyes shutter closed as he gasps. His breathing is stuttered and uneven.

“Sam. Sam, no,” she cries. “I’ll get help. You’re okay.”

“Aelin.” He raises a hand to press against her cheek, and the blood on it is sticky and warm.

“No, Sam. No, stay with me.”

The scream that tears through her throat will hurt tomorrow but now she barely feels it. “HELP!”

His breathing becomes much quicker as she presses on his side and screams again.

She knows abstractly that she’s crying, tears and snot streaming down her face as she desperately presses her hands against his side.

There’s a strong arm around her waist, tugging her back and away from Sam, and she screams one word over and over.

“No, no, no, no.”

There are people here now, leaning over Sam, leaning over his body.

“NO.”

Aelin gasps as she launches up in her bed. The sheets are stuck to her clammy skin and her head flies to the side. The guy is gone, the side of the bed he occupied when she fell asleep now cold. Good.

She lives it over and over in her dreams, sees the dark street more often than not, feels the phantom warmth of his blood down her legs. Wakes screaming herself hoarse just as she did that night. She doesn’t normally let people stay the night. Even when Aedion tried for the first few weeks after the fact, she couldn’t sleep, couldn’t turn her brain off for even a second. Every time she closed her eyes she was back on that street, begging and pleading for him to open his eyes.

She grasps at her side for the switch of her bedside lamp and flicks it on. Her room is cold and empty and she hasn’t had it in her to decorate past the basics so it’s plain and impersonal when she looks around, trying to calm her breathing.

She checks the time. 6:25am. Not bad, she must have managed about six hours of sleep last night, and it’s more than she usually gets.

There're a few texts waiting in her inbox, including one from Elide, and she expects it to be a request to let her know that she got home safe but it’s not.

Call me as soon as you wake up.

Sent at 6:02am. Elide is a chronic overworker, no matter how much Aelin begs her to stick to a 9 to 5 schedule, but she couldn't imagine her friend any other way. The smiling emoji at the end of the text lets her know it’s nothing she needs to panic about, so she takes a moment to scroll through her other messages. It’s unusual for her to wake up to so many.

She clicks on her conversation with Dorian, the only message she can see, his most recent one, just says Aelin. He has sent her nine messages while she slept, and she scrolls up to reach the first one.

Aelin, you did it. You booked the Rowan Whitethorn movie.

Her heart pounds in her chest, running into overdrive as she processes the words on her screen.

She got the part. She fucking did it.

This is one of those moments she knows she’ll remember.

Dorian has forwarded over a number of contracts and official things but she ignores them in favour of dialling Elide’s number.

“Aelin!” Her friend’s voice is breathy when she answers. “Congratulations, I knew you could do it.”

“Thanks, El.” A pause where she takes a deep breath in. “I can’t believe it.”

She falls back onto her mattress, pressing a fist to her lips as she smiles, eyes closed, almost giddy as she listens to her friend talk.

“They’re putting a press release out today at 12:30, announcing you and the male lead, who I haven’t found out yet but I will.”

“Oh my gods,” she sighs, covering her eyes with a clammy hand.

“I know,” Elide laughs.

She allows herself one tear as she stares up at the white of her ceiling.

This is big, she can feel it.

Later her phone buzzes as Elide sends her links to two different articles breaking the news.

Fenrys Moonbeam and Aelin Ashryver to star in new Chaol Westfall drama. More to follow.

Rowan Whitethorn signs on to direct The Crescent City, the latest project from Chaol Westfall (Throne of Glass, The King’s Hand & more).

She presses the phone to her chest as she lets out a sigh of relief.

It all moves pretty quickly from that point.

She’s on a plane back to Rifthold the next day and Chaol has sent over the whole script for her to read on the plane, bypassing Dorian completely even though that’s how it normally goes and she knows the two are like brothers.

Chaol was the one to introduce her to Dorian, and they kind of took her under their showbiz wings in the first few years she began to get really serious about acting.

They gave her the inside scoop, having been in the industry for a few more years than her. Chaol writing and making movies and Dorian doing all the background stuff like contracts and negotiations and exposure. They took her to their wrap parties that everyone knows are just networking events and introduced her to some of the big names in the industry without so much as batting an eyelid, and she knows she owes them a lot.

The script is phenomenal, and she has to try and hide the tears that form when she reaches the end, it probably wouldn’t be the best start to the project, being photographed crying on the plane on the way to start shooting. It really is some of Chaol’s best work, and she sends him a text when she lands that says fuck you, I hate it, but his reply lets her know he knows she’s joking.

It tells the story of her character, Feyre, and how she’s dragged into selling drugs to pay for her mom’s hospital bills. Along the way she meets Fenrys Moonbeam’s character, Rhysand, the glowering bad-boy who’s well established in the gang and together they see some shit and do some shit but manage to get out together. The topics are kind of cliché and over done, but Chaol has managed to add a level of originality to it that makes it really special.

It’s heavier on the romance than Rowan Whitethorn’s previous projects, but it’s gritty enough that she can see why he’s signed on. It’s going to be hard, she knows this, and it will really push her to her limits trying to embody the range of emotions her character goes through. But she wants it, and she will make her performance incredible if it fucking kills her.

There’s a niggling part of her brain that reminds her that she’s surrounded by some big names on this project, names that are big for a reason, and she can’t let them hiring her be a mistake.

She sends Chaol a follow up text, wtf are these names btw???

He ignores her.

When she’s in the car taking her to the apartment the studio is renting out for her while they film she decides to take a little trip through Instagram and look up her new co-star. Fenrys is a household name by now, a couple of years in after his debut, but it can’t hurt to know a little more about her leading man.

f.moonbeam01 comes up as the first option when the types the three letters f e n into the search bar and he has over eleven million followers.

Shit.

Not that she needs a reminder but it slaps her in the face that this is actually big. Aelin only has a few thousand followers herself and Elide has already told her to prepare herself for that to rise.

His Instagram is a mixture of mostly photos of himself, some selfies and some professional shots, and he’s obviously gorgeous. His deep brown complexion playing well against his golden curls with a straight strong nose and flawless white teeth. He’s definitely leading man material, and she can tell just how charming his grin is even through a screen.

There are also promo pictures for all the movies he’s involved in at the moment, there are at least three projects he has coming out this year. Damn.

His most recent picture is a screenshot of the article announcing their casting, and he’s actually tagged her in the photo along with Rowan himself. She hasn’t seen the tag until now, it’s normally Elide’s job as her publicist to tackle the professional side to her social media, but there’s 6.4 million likes on the photo.

Again, shit.

She can’t help herself from clicking onto Rowan’s account, rowanwhitethorn is a pretty simple handle. He only has 27 posts, most of them are behind the scenes shots from projects, one with his classic director’s chair that has his surname printed across the back in thick white lettering, and a few pictures of different cameras and pieces of equipment.

There’s only one picture of him on there, and it’s from 2017. He has his back to the camera and the sunset behind him lends a shadow that covers all of his features. Very artsy she muses to herself as she double taps the screen to like it, he probably won’t see anyway, the notification will probably get lost in the ones his account no doubt gets from his 2 million followers. The only thing she can gather from the photo about his physical appearance is that he has pretty broad shoulders.

She’s tempted to google him, wanting to know what he looks like, but she feels a bit too much like a stalker, and she knows she’ll meet him in a couple of days anyway so she leaves it and pulls up her emails to reply to the seemingly endless list of forms she has to fill out and send back to Dorian.

The apartment she’s living in for the next few months is modern and airy, with clean lines and bright decor. Aelin likes it, and while it’s not hers in the same way as her home back in Orynth, it’s far better than a hotel room that lower budget movies tend to shove actors in. Another reminder that this time is different, there’s a bigger budget than she’s used to, bigger names than she’s used to, and she can’t fuck this up. There’s more eyes on her now than ever before.

She sends Elide a picture of her new bedroom and her friend just replies with a bunch of exclamation marks and she forwards the picture across to Lysandra too. Aelin wanders through to the kitchen, wondering if anyone bothered to stock the kitchen, not that she can’t do groceries herself, it would just be nice. She’s delighted to find a fridge full of fresh produce and gets about making herself a dish of pasta and veggies.

She tucks herself in front of the big television, munching away as she watches some National Geographic documentary about whales and it helps to take her mind off the fact that this is her last night of peace for a while. She’s trying not to get too in her head about it, there’s a fine line between knowing it’s a big deal and freaking the fuck out about it, and she needs to stay on the right side of that line, needs to keep herself in check.

If she allows herself a moment to relax, a moment to sink into the situation and bask in the opportunity; she’s excited.

And depending on how well this movie does, she knows she may not have another night like this one. Somehow the thought doesn’t seem to scare her.

Lysandra calls her as she’s waiting for the car to arrive to take her to the studio, it's day one of their table read today and she’s tired. She spent all of last night tossing and turning, unable to shut her mind off and panicking over every single detail of how this day could go.

She’s lucky it’s only a table read, she’s not sure even a professional make-up artist would be able to cover the dark circles under her eyes.

“Hello, you.” Lysandra’s voice is cheery through the phone and Aelin smiles, she’s really missed Lysandra and hasn’t taken nearly enough time to seek her out during her recent whirlwind. “I hear congratulations are in order.”

They had texted since the news dropped, but with Lysandra shooting a campaign for a brand she can’t remember somewhere over in the Southern Continent they haven’t had time yet for a call.

“Thanks Lys,” she says as she gets into the back of the sleek black car that the studio has sent for her, tucking her small black backpack onto the seat next to her. It’s all she can use at this point, any other bag just makes her think of that night.

“How’s it going? Have you met everyone yet?”

Lysandra runs in these circles of A list celebrities and Aelin wouldn't be surprised if she already knew Fenrys. She met Lysandra when they were teens; years before her first show for Victoria’s Secret, years before she was walking for people like Gucci and Prada, and they stayed close when they were both living off cheap ramen and thin strands of hope. Aelin likes to tease her about hanging with a lowly C-lister like herself but Lysandra is always quick to quip that she’s maybe a G-lister at a push.

That could change.

“I haven’t met anyone so far, but I’m literally on my way to meet everyone now.”

“That’s exciting, you’ll have to let me know if Fenrys Moonbeam is really that good looking in person.”

“So you don’t already know him?” she asks, teasing. Maybe Lysandra doesn’t know quite everyone.

“Oh you know, apart from every week-end when we hook-up, we’re not really that good friends.”

Aelin laughs, mostly to herself, knowing that somewhere out there that probably is a story that’s cropped up in some cheap tabloid. She knows there’s probably some dating rumours about herself and Fenrys already even though she’s still yet to meet him. It’s just how it is, she knows this, has known this since she was old enough to read the stories about her parents’ messy divorce.

“What does Aedion have to say about that, hm?”

“Oh, he joins us obviously!” Lysandra’s laugh is bright and loud through the grainy speaker.

No-one is more desperate for Aedion to propose to Lysandra than Aelin, not even the magazines, desperate for a scoop of the golden couple, quarterback for the Rifthold Ravens and the world-famous supermodel.

“I think I’ve heard enough, thanks,” Aelin laughs as the car pulls through security checks at the studio. “Lys, I have to go, I’ve just got to the studio.”

“Okay, good luck! Promise you’ll call me later though and let me know how it goes.”

She needs to make sure she puts aside a minute to catch up properly with Lysandra, she’s been slacking recently and she knows her friend misses her. She misses Lysandra too, and Aedion. Maybe she’ll stay with them for a couple of days when she gets a break from filming, she can probably see them far more often now that she’s in Rifthold too.

“I promise,” she agrees. “Tell Aedion to make sure he spoils you from me.”

Lysandra snorts, “Oh he does, I’ll pass it along anyway though.”

“Means a lot. Love you, got to go.”

Lysandra’s returning love you is sincere, but she cuts off the phone as the car comes to a stop outside the plain brick building.

She readies herself in the back of the car, pulling down a deep breath to center herself, she can do this.

The girl leading her to the room doesn’t speak other than to tell Aelin to follow right this way, and she’s grateful, she’s not sure she could speak right now without vomiting all over the dated linoleum flooring.

She needs to get a grip, and fight the urge for a hit that strikes her when she’s nervous like this. It could make her fears disappear, at least for a moment before they all came crashing back down ten-times worse the minute the high faded. There is a reason she packed that shit in, and she knows her nerves will pass. It’s been a while since she’s done any of this, her last movie read was pre-Sam and no matter how hard she tries to push it down, there’s a lot of pressure on her for this to go well.

The girl pauses outside an unassuming white door and holds a hand out to gesture for Aelin to go in. She rolls her shoulders back, holding her head high before she steps into the room. If all else fails she’s still Evalin Ashryver’s daughter and to some people that is something to be proud of.

Fenrys Moonbeam is the first person to catch her eye when she steps into the room, and it seems he’s done some stalking too because he ends his conversation by the food table with some others she doesn’t recognise and bounds straight over to her with a grin.

“Aelin Ashryver,” he says, his voice deep and smooth like velvet. “I’ve heard of you. It’s a pleasure.”

“You have?” She’s both surprised and not at the same time as she holds a hand out for him to shake.

He bypasses the hand she holds out and tugs her into his chest, wrapping both arms around her and knocking her backpack off her shoulder.

“I have,” he says as he bends down to pick her bag back up. “Sorry about that.”

She shakes her head. She needs to stop acting like a bewildered school girl meeting the Queen, she needs to remember that she has second billing for this movie thanks to Dorian.

“Don’t worry about it.” Aelin finds a smile and plasters it on.

Someone calls for everyone to take their seats and she notices the name placards spaced out in front of each chair. She locates her own and it's surreal to see her name printed there, Aelin Ashryver, between Fenrys and another actress playing her sister called Manon Blackbeak. She’s even less known than Aelin, and she only feels slightly guilty for how much that relaxes her.

Aelin knows how this goes down, they sit opposite the production team, the director and all the executive producers and she realises that she’s opposite the sign that reads Rowan Whitethorn.

She slides into her seat, Fenrys and Manon chatting over her head as she does, and she spots a male slipping into the chair opposite her. He’s wearing a slim-fit forest green henley and dark jeans, his shoulders are just as broad as they were in his Instagram photo and here there’s no shadow across his handsome features.

She can’t deny that he’s attractive, she knew it the first time she saw him. Her stare locks onto the man from the hallway after her audition and he smirks at her as if they have a secret. And maybe they do, but now she’s realising that he’s her boss, and a little voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Elide is whispering to her that opportunities like this don’t come around everyday.

She owes it to Sam and she owes it to herself not to fuck this up, but the look that Rowan Whitethorn is sending her across the table makes her think she could risk it all.

It takes them three hours to run through it in full, and she’s happy to see she’s not the only one with a tear in her eye at the end. Rowan doesn’t cry, but he hasn’t looked at her since before they started and each time she read a line she avoided looking at him. She knows there were a couple of times where he nodded along with her expression of the lines. She’s ignoring it.

This is what she lives to do, they’re not even filming yet and she feels like she’s right where she needs to be. It’s cliche but she breathes easier when she acts, the air feels lighter when she takes on a new personality and feels all the things she’s told to feel.

It takes away the restlessness she feels when it’s all just down to her, being told how to feel is far easier.

Her therapist tells her she has both anxiety and PTSD, but she feels like giving it a name doesn’t make it any easier to deal with. She knows a diagnosis can be a relief for some, but to Aelin, what she feels is far too messy to be summed up in four letters. Her life has simply become the before, and the after, even though what each of those contains is a complete fucking shit show.

There are two Aelins; pre that night and post that night.

The Aelin from before that night doesn’t exist anywhere but in her own memory.

Once the run through is completed and basic notices are given by the producers, things like call sheet distributions and health and safety, the occupants of the room begin to mingle. She sees him make a beeline for her, and she swallows. She’s not ready for this.

“You look surprised to see me.” His voice is as hot as it was the last time she saw him, the slight rasp in his throat and his accent. Gods, the accent.

“You don’t look too surprised to see me.” She tilts her head at him because she feels way thrown off, like he has all the power here. Which he does. But like, she can play it cool. Fake it ‘til you make it, right? “Maybe had a little google search?”

He shakes his head at her, biting his lip kind of like he wants to laugh, and she bristles. She needs to level the playing field.

“Says you.” He’s definitely laughing now. “I saw you liked my photo last night.”

“What about it?” She shrugs, hoping her acting skills are up to it. He only tilts his head to the side as he takes her in.

“Do you think I didn’t know who you were in the corridor? I’m the director.” And fuck him for saying it like that, full of an easy confidence that in any other situation would have had heat pooling in the floor of her stomach. “Brullo discussed the casting with me.”

Right. Of course.

She’s not sure what to say next. Honestly? She kind of wants to flirt with him, but fuck.

Instead she hums a laugh, not really caring whether he thinks it’s sincere or not, and looks absentmindedly around the room instead of back up at him. He reaches a hand out to brush his fingers down her arm, looping them round the bones of her wrist and squeezing slightly like he did the last time before letting go. Her eyes snap back to his.

“Just between you and me?” he asks and the smile he wears is far too hot for her to deal with right now. “I think we made a good choice.”

“Thanks,” she says, but it’s a little too breathy. A little too dazed for having spent such a short amount of time in his presence. She’s aware that she needs to be careful, they are very much not alone in this room right now, and she doesn’t need to start any rumours that would destroy her chances of escaping this without a scandal.

She’s here to do a job, and she’s going to do it well. She doesn’t need any distractions.

He leaves her soon after that, and his parting remark of “have a good first day, Aelin” sticks with her, and she tries not to replay the way his voice had wrapped around her name.

Manon Blackbeak is watching them from across the room, and she arches one perfectly shaped eyebrow at Aelin. She ignores her; let her think what she wants, she’s surely professional enough not to gossip to any press, and stomps over to where Fenrys is chatting with one of the producers. It seems like a good enough place to start.

#rowaelin #rowaelin au #rowaelin fic #throne of glass #rowan whitethorn #aelin galathynius #nobody does it like you do #ndilyd #im so nervous to post this lol #hope you all enjoy #cw: past drug abuse #cw: minor character death #cw: violence

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xoruffitup · 3 years

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Annette: The AD Devotee Review

So I saw Annette on its premiere night in Cannes and I’m still trying to process and make sense of those 2.5 hours of utter insanity. I have no idea where to begin and this is likely going to become an unholy length by the time I’m finished, so I apologize in advance. But BOY I’ve got a lot to parse through!!

Let’s start here: Adam’s made plenty of weird movies. The Dead Don’t Die? The Man Who Killed Don Quixote? There are definitely Terry Gilliam-esque elements of the unapologetically absurd and fantastical in Annette, but NOTHING comes close to this film. To put it bluntly, nothing I write in this post can prepare you for the eccentric phantasmagoria you’re about to sit through.

While the melodies conveying the story – at times lovely and haunting, at times whimsical, occasionally blunt and simple – add a unique sense of the surreal, the fact that it’s all presented in song somehow supplies the medium for this bizarre concoction of disparate elements and outlandish storytelling to all coalesce into a single genre-defying, disbelief-suspending whole. That’s certainly not to say there weren’t a few times when I quietly chortled to myself and mouthed “what the fuck” from behind my mask when things took an exceeding turn to the outrageous. This movie needs to be permitted a bit of leeway in terms of quality judgments, and traditional indicators certainly won’t apply. I would say part of its appeal (and ultimately its success) stems from its lack of interest in appealing to traditional arbiters of film structure and viewing experience. The movie lingers in studies of discomfiture (I’ll return to this theme); it presents all its absurdities with brazen pride rather than temperance; and its end is abrupt and utterly jarring. Yet somehow, at the end of it, I realized I’d been white-knuckling that rollercoaster ride the whole way through and loved every last twist and turn.

A note on the structure of this post before I dive in: I’ve written out a synopsis of the whole film (for those spoiler-hungry people) and stashed it down at the bottom of this post, so no one trying to avoid spoilers has to scroll through. If you want to read, go ahead and skip down to that before reading the discussion/analysis. If I have to reference a specific plot point, I’ll label it “Spoiler #___” and those who don’t mind being spoiled can check the correlating numbers in my synopsis to see which part I’m referencing. Otherwise, my discussion will be spoiler-free! I do detail certain individual scenes, but hid anything that would give away key developments and/or the ending.

To start, I’ll cut to what I’m sure many of you are here for: THE MUSICAL SEX SCENES. You want detailed descriptions? Well let’s fucking go because these scenes have been living in my head rent-free!!

The first (yes, there are two. Idk whether to thank Mr. Carax or suggest he get his sanity checked??) happens towards the end of “We Love Each Other So Much.” Henry carries Ann to the bed with her feet dangling several inches off the floor while she has her arms wrapped around his shoulders. (I maybe whimpered a tiny bit.) As they continue to sing, you first see Ann spread on her back on the bed, panting a little BUT STILL SINGING while Henry’s head is down between her thighs. The camera angle is from above Ann’s head, so you can clearly see down her body and exactly what’s going on. He lifts his head to croon a line, then puts his mouth right back to work.

And THEN they fuck – still fucking singing! They’re on their sides with Henry behind her, and yes there is visible thrusting. Yes, the thrusting definitely picks up speed and force as the song reaches its crescendo. Yes, it was indeed EXTREMELY sensual once you got over the initial shock of what you’re watching. Ann kept her breasts covered with her own hands while Henry went down on her, but now his hands are covering them and kneading while they’re fucking and just….. It’s a hard, blazing hot R rating. I also remember his giant hand coming up to turn her head so he can kiss her and ladkjfaskfjlskfj. Bring your smelling salts. I don’t recommend sitting between two older ladies while you’re watching – KINDA RUINED THE BLATANT, SMOKING HOT ADAM PORN FOR ME. Good god, choose your viewing buddy wisely!

The second scene comes sort of out of nowhere – I can’t actually recall which song it was during, but it pops up while Ann is pregnant. Henry is again eating her out and there’s not as much overt singing this time, but he has his giant hands splayed over her pregnant belly while he’s going to town and whew, WHEW TURN ON THE AIR CONDITIONING PLEASE. DID THE THEATER INCREASE IN TEMPERATURE BY 10 DEGREES, YOU’RE DAMN RIGHT IT DID.

Whew. I think you’ll be better primed to ~enjoy~ those scenes when you know they’re coming, otherwise it’s just so shocking that by the time you’ve processed “Look at Adam eating pussy with reckless abandon” it’s halfway over already. God speed, my fellow rats, it’s truly something to witness!!

Okay. Right. Ahem. Moving right on along….

I’ll kick off this discussion with the formal structure of the film. It’s honestly impossible to classify. I have the questionable fortune of having been taken to many a strange avant-garde operas and art exhibitions by my parents when I was younger, and the strongest parallel I found to this movie was melodramatic opera stagings full of flamboyant flourishes, austere set pieces, and prolonged numbers where the characters wallow at length in their respective miseries. This movie has all the elevated drama, spectacle, and self-aggrandizement belonging to any self-professed rock opera. Think psychedelic rock opera films a la The Who’s Tommy, Hair, Phantom of the Paradise, and hell, even Rocky Horror. Yes, this film really is THAT weird.

But Annette is also in large part a vibrant, absurdist performance piece. The film is intriguingly book-ended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character; and your own role blurs between passive viewer and interactive audience. The first scene has the cast walking through the streets of LA (I think?), singing “So May We Start?” directly to the camera in a self-aware prologue, smashing the fourth wall from the beginning and setting up the audience to play a direct role in the viewing experience. Though the cast then disburse and take up their respective roles, the sense of being directly performed to is reinforced throughout the film. This continues most concretely through Henry’s multiple stand-up comedy performances.

Though he performs to an audience in the film rather than directly to live viewers, these scenes are so lengthy, vulgar, and excessive that his solo performance act becomes an integral part of defining his character and conveying his arc as the film progresses. These scenes start to make the film itself feel like a one-man show. The whole shtick of Henry McHenry’s “Ape of God” show is its perverse irreverence and swaggering machismo. Over the span of what must be a five minute plus scene, Henry hacks up phlegm, pretends to choke himself with his microphone cord, prances across the stage with his bathrobe flapping about, simulates being shot, sprinkles many a misanthropic, charmless monologues in between, and ends by throwing off his robe and mooning the audience before he leaves the stage. (Yes, you see Adam’s ass within the film’s first twenty minutes, and we’re just warming up from there.) His one-man performances demonstrate his egocentrism, penchant for lowbrow and often offensive humor, and the fact that this character has thus far profited from indulging in and acting out his base vulgarities.

While never demonstrating any abundance of good taste, his shows teeter firmly towards the grotesque and unsanctionable as his marriage and mental health deteriorate. This is what I’m referring to when I described the film as a study in discomfiture. As he deteriorates, the later iterations of his stand-up show become utterly unsettling and at times revolting. The film could show mercy and stop at one to two minutes of his more deranged antics, but instead subjects you to a protracted display of just how insane this man might possibly be. In Adam’s hands, these excessive, indulgent performance scenes take on disturbing but intriguing ambiguity, as you again wonder where the performance ends and the real man begins. When Henry confesses to a crime during his show and launces into an elaborate, passionate reenactment on stage, you shift uncomfortably in your seat wondering how much of it might just be true. Wondering just how much of an animal this man truly is.

Watching this film as an Adam fan, these scenes are unparalleled displays of his range and prowess. He’s in turns amusing and revolting; intolerable and pathetic; but always, always riveting. I couldn’t help thinking to myself that for the casual, non Adam-obsessed viewer, the effect of these scenes might stop at crass and unappealing. But in terms of the sheer range and power of acting on display? These scenes are a damn marvel. Through these scenes alone, his performance largely imbues the film with its wild, primal, and vaguely menacing atmosphere.

His stand-up scenes were, to me, some of the most intense of the film – sometimes downright difficult to endure. But they’re only a microcosm of the R A N G E he exhibits throughout the film’s entirety. Let’s talk about how he’s animalistic, menacing, and genuinely unsettling to watch (Leos Carax described him as “feline” at some point, and I 100% see it); and then with a mere subtle twitch of his expression, sheen of his eyes, or slump of his shoulders, he’s suddenly a lost, broken thing.

Henry McHenry is truly to be reviled. Twitter might as well spare their breath and announce he’s already cancelled. He towers above the rest of the cast with intimidating, predatory physicality; he is prone to indulgence in his vices; and he constantly seems at risk of releasing some wild, uncontrollable madness lingering just beneath his surface. But as we all well know, Adam has an unerring talent for lending pathos to even the most objectively condemnable characters.

In a repeated refrain during his first comedy show, the audience keeps asking him, “Why did you become a comedian?” He dodges the question or gives sarcastic answers, until finally circling back to the true answer later in the film. It was something to the effect of: “To disarm people. It’s the only way I can tell the truth without it killing me.” Even for all their sick spectacle, there are also moments in his stand-up shows of disarming vulnerability and (seeming) honesty. In a similar moment of personal exposition, he confesses his temptation and “sympathy for the abyss.” (This phrase is hands down my favorite of the film.) He repeatedly refers to his struggle against “the abyss” and, at the same time, his perceived helplessness against it. “There’s so little I can do, there’s so little I can do,” he sings repeatedly throughout the film - usually just after doing something horrific.

Had he been played by anyone else, the first full look of him warming up before his show - hopping in place and punching the air like some wannabe boxer, interspersing puffs of his cigarette with chowing down on a banana – would have been enough for me to swear him off. His archetype is something of a cliché at this point – a brusque, boorish man who can’t stomach or preserve the love of others due to his own self-loathing. There were multiple points when it was only Adam’s face beneath the character that kept my heart cracked open to him. But sure enough, he wedged his fingers into that tiny crack and pried it wide open. The film’s final few scenes show him at his chin-wobbling best as he crumbles apart in small, mournful subtleties.

(General, semi-spoiler ahead as to the tone of the film’s ending – skip this paragraph if you’d rather avoid.) For a film that professes not to take itself very seriously (how else am I supposed to interpret the freaky puppet baby?), it delivers a harsh, unforgiving ending to its main character. And sure enough, despite how much I might have wanted to distance myself and believe it was only what he deserved, I found myself right there with him, sharing his pain. It is solely testament to Adam’s tireless dedication to breathing both gritty realism and stubborn beauty into his characters that Henry sank a hook into some piece of my sympathy.

Not only does Adam have to be the only actor capable of imbuing Henry with humanity despite his manifold wrongs, he also has to be the only actor capable of the wide-ranging transformations demanded of the role. He starts the movie with long hair and his full refrigerator brick house physique. His physicality and size are actively leveraged to engender a sense of disquiet and unpredictability through his presence. He appears in turns tormented and tormentor. There were moments when I found myself thinking of Conan the Barbarian, simply because his physical presence radiates such wild, primal energy (especially next to tiny, dainty Marion and especially with that long hair). Cannot emphasize enough: The raw sex appeal is off the goddamn charts and had me – a veteran fangirl of 3+ years - shook to my damn core.

The film’s progression then ages him – his hair cut shorter and his face and physique gradually becoming more gaunt. By the film’s end, he has facial prosthetics to make him seem even more stark and borderline sickly – a mirror of his growing internal torment. From a muscular, swaggering powerhouse, he pales and shrinks to a shell of a man, unraveling as his face becomes nearly deformed by time and guilt. He is in turns beautiful and grotesque; sensual and repulsive. I know of no other actor whose face (and its accompanying capacity for expressiveness) could lend itself to such stunning versatility.

Quick note here that he was given a reddish-brown birthmark on the right side of his face for this film?? It becomes more prominent once his hair is shorter in the film’s second half. I’m guessing it was Leos’ idea to make his face even more distinctive and riveting? If so, joke’s on you, Mr. Carax, because we’re always riveted. ☺

I mentioned way up at the beginning that the film is bookended by two scenes where the lines blur between actor and character, and between reality and performance. This comes full circle at the film’s end, with Henry’s final spoken words (this doesn’t give any plot away but skip to the next paragraph if you would rather avoid!) being “Stop watching me.” That’s it. The show is over. He has told his last joke, played out his final act, and now he’s done living his life as a source of cheap, unprincipled laughs and thrills for spectators. The curtain closes with a resounding silence.

Now, I definitely won’t have a section where I talk (of course) about the Ben Solo parallels. He’s haunted by an “abyss” aka darkness inside of him? Bad things happened when he finally gave in and stared into that darkness he knew lived within him? As a result of those tragedies, (SPOILER – Skip to next paragraph to avoid) he then finds himself alone and with no one to love or be loved by? NO I’M DEFINITELY NOT GOING TO TALK ABOUT IT AT ALL, I’M JUST FINE HERE UNDER MY MOUNTAINS OF TISSUES.

Let’s talk about the music! The film definitely clocks in closer to a rock opera than musical, because almost the entire thing is conveyed through ongoing song, rather than self-contained musical numbers appearing here and there. This actually helps the film’s continuity and pacing, by keeping the characters perpetually in this suspended state of absurdity, always propelled along by some beat or melody. Whenever the film seems on the precipice of tipping all the way into the bleak and dark, the next whimsical tune kicks in to reel us all blessedly back. For example, after (SPOILER #1) happens, there’s a hard cut to the bright police station where several officers gather around Henry, bopping about and chattering on the beat “Questions! We have a few questions!”

Adam integrates his singing into his performance in such a way that it seems organic. I realized after the film that I never consciously considered the quality of his singing along the way. For all that I talked about the film maintaining the atmosphere of a fourth wall-defying performance piece, Adam’s singing is so fully immersed in the embodiment of his character that you almost forget he’s singing. Rather, this is simply how Henry McHenry exists. His stand-up scenes are the only ones in the film that do frequently transition back and forth between speaking and singing, but it’s seamlessly par for the course in Henry’s bizarre, dour show. He breaks into his standard “Now laugh!” number with uninterrupted sarcasm and contempt. There were certainly a few soft, poignant moments when his voice warbled in a tender vibrato you couldn’t help noticing – but otherwise, the singing was simply an extension of that full-body persona he manages to convey with such apparent ease and naturalism.

On the music itself: I’ll admit that the brief clip of “We Love Each Other So Much” we got a few weeks ago made me a tad nervous. It seemed so cheesy and ridiculous? But okay, you really can’t take anything from this movie out of context. Otherwise it is, indeed, utterly ridiculous. Not that none of it is ever ridiculous in context either, but I’m giving you assurances right now that it WORKS. Once you’re in the flow of constant singing and weirdness abound, the songs sweep you right along. Some of the songs lack a distinctive hook or melody and are moreso rhythmic vehicles for storytelling, but it’s now a day later and I still have three of the songs circulating pleasantly in my head. “We Love Each Other So Much” was actually the stand out for me and is now my favorite of the soundtrack. It’s reprised a few times later in the film, growing increasingly melancholy each time it is echoed, and it hits your heart a bit harder each time. The final song sung during (SPOILER #2), though without a distinctive melody to lodge in my head, undoubtedly left me far more moved than a spoken version of this scene would have. Adam’s singing is so painfully desperate and earnest here, and he takes the medium fully under his command.

Finally, it does have to be said that parts of this film veer fully towards the ridiculous and laughable. The initial baby version of the Annette puppet-doll was nothing short of horrifying to me. Annette gets more center-stage screen time in the film’s second half, which gives itself over to a few special effects sequences which look to be flying out at you straight from 2000 Windows Movie Maker. The scariest part is that it all seems intentional. The quality special effects appear when necessary (along with some unusual and captivating time lapse shots), which means the film’s most outrageous moments are fully in line with its guiding spirit. Its extravagant self-indulgence nearly borders on camp.

...And with that, I’ve covered the majority of the frantic notes I took for further reflection immediately after viewing. It’s now been a few days, and I’m looking forward to rewatching this movie when I can hopefully take it in a bit more fully. This time, I won’t just be struggling to keep up with the madness on screen. My concluding thoughts at this point: Is it my favorite Adam movie? Certainly not. Is it the most unforgettable? Aside from my holy text, The Last Jedi, likely yes. It really is the sort of thing you have to see twice to even believe it. And all in all, I say again that Adam truly carried this movie, and he fully inhabits even its highest, most ludicrous aspirations. He’s downright abhorrent in this film, and that’s exactly what makes him such a fucking legend.

I plan to make a separate post in the coming days about my experience at Cannes and the Annette red carpet, since a few people have asked! I can’t even express how damn good it feels to be globetrotting for Adam-related experiences again. <3

Thanks so much for reading! Feel free to ask me any further questions at all here or on Twitter! :)

*SYNOPSIS INCLUDED BELOW. DO NOT READ FURTHER IF AVOIDING SPOILERS!*

Synopsis: Comedian Henry McHenry and opera singer Ann Defrasnoux are both at the pinnacle of their respective success when they fall in love and marry. The marriage is happy and passionate for a time, leading to the birth of their (puppet) daughter, Annette. But tabloids and much of the world believe the crude, brutish Henry is a poor match for refined, idolized Ann. Ann and Henry themselves both begin to feel that something is amiss – Henry gradually losing his touch for his comedy craft, claiming that being in love is making him ill. He repeatedly and sardonically references how Ann’s opera career involves her “singing and dying” every night, to the point that he sees visions of her “dead” body on the stage. Meanwhile, Ann has a nightmare of multiple women accusing Henry of abusive and violent behavior towards them, and she begins growing wary in his presence. (He never acts abusively towards her, unless you count that scene when he tickles her feet and licks her toes while she’s telling him to stop??? Yeah I know, WILD.)

The growing sense of unease, that they’re both teetering on the brink of disaster, culminates in the most deranged of Henry’s stand-up comedy performances, when he gives a vivid reenactment of killing his wife by “tickling her to death.” The performance is so maudlin and unsettling that you wonder whether he’s not making it up at all, and the audience strongly rebukes him. (This is the “What is your problem?!” scene with tiddies out. The full version includes Adam storming across the stage, furiously singing/yelling, “What the FUCK is your problem?!”) But when Henry arrives home that night, drunk and raucous, Ann and Annette are both unharmed.

The couple take a trip on their boat, bringing Annette with them. The boat gets caught in a storm, and Henry drunkenly insists that he and Ann waltz in the storm. She protests that it’s too dangerous and begs him to see sense. (SPOILER #1) The boat lurches when Henry spins her, and Ann falls overboard to her death. Henry rescues Annette from the sinking boat and rows them both to shore. He promptly falls unconscious, and a ghost of Ann appears, proclaiming her intention to haunt Henry through Annette. Annette (still a toddler at this point and yes, still a wooden puppet) then develops a miraculous gift for singing, and Henry decides to take her on tour with performances around the world. He enlists the help of his “conductor friend,” who had been Ann’s accompanist and secretly had an affair with her before she met Henry.

Henry slides further into drunken debauchery as the tour progresses, while the Conductor looks after Annette and the two grow close. Once the tour concludes, the Conductor suggests to Henry that Annette might be his own daughter – revealing his prior affair with Ann. Terrified by the idea of anyone finding out and the possibility of losing his daughter, Henry drowns the Conductor in the pool behind his and Ann’s house. Annette sees the whole thing happen from her bedroom window.

Henry plans one last show for Annette, to be held in a massive stadium at the equivalent of the Super Bowl. But when Annette takes the stage, she refuses to sing. Instead, she speaks and accuses Henry of murder. (“Daddy kills people,” are the actual words – not that that was creepy to hear as this puppet’s first spoken words or anything.)

Henry stands trial, during which he sees an apparition of Ann from when they first met. They sing their regret that they can’t return to the happiness they once shared, until the apparition is replaced by Ann’s vengeful spirit, who promises to haunt Henry in prison. After his sentencing (it’s not clear what the sentence was, but Henry definitely isn’t going free), Annette is brought to see him once in prison. Speaking fully for the first time, she declares she can’t forgive her parents for using her: Henry for exploiting her voice for profit and Ann for presumably using her to take vengeance on Henry. (Yes, this is why she was an inanimate doll moving on strings up to this point – there was some meaning in that strange, strange artistic choice. She was the puppet of her parents’ respective egotisms.) The puppet of Annette is abruptly replaced by a real girl in this scene, finally enabling two-sided interaction and a long-missed genuine connection between her and Henry, which made this quite the emotional catharsis. (SPOILER #2) It concludes with Annette still unwilling to forgive or forget what her parents have done, and swearing never to sing again. She says Henry now has “no one to love.” He appeals, “Can’t I love you, Annette?” She replies, “No, not really.” Henry embraces her one last time before a guard takes her away and Henry is left alone.

…..Yes, that is the end. It left me with major emotional whiplash, after the whole film up to this point kept pulling itself back from the total bleak and dark by starting up a new toe-tapping, mildly silly tune every few minutes. But this last scene instead ends on a brutal note of harsh, unforgiving silence.

BUT! Make sure you stick around through the credits, when you see the cast walking through a forest together. (This is counterpart to the film’s opening, when you see the cast walking through LA singing “So May We Start?” directly to the audience) Definitely pay attention to catch Adam chasing/playing with the little girl actress who plays Annette! That imparts a much nicer feeling to leave the theater with. :’)

#Adam Driver #Annette #Cannes 2021 #driverdaily #Annette spoilers

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svnflowervol666 · 4 years

Note

Blurb , Harry catches reader taking naughty selfies to send him when he’s away

Word Count: 1.2k

A/N: No one asked, but this is what I imagined the lingerie looking like! Take care and TPWK.

Shopping with Harry always felt like an honor to Y/N. Not only was he an extra pair of eyes on the lookout for garments and stylings that suited her, but he trusted her just the same to do so for him. It was rare when they did this, spent the entire day out at nearly every store they could think of, and end up with more bags than they could carry with their hands. Those days always end up with a splitting headache by late afternoon and the itching need to eat takeaway in their underwear under the thick, woven blanket in their living room while they watched a movie.

And that’s just what they had done today. They’d decided on two tablets of acetaminophen, curry from their favorite Indian place just a few blocks from their downtown apartment, and the season finale of 90 Day Fiance since they’d make it home in time. Harry pretended to put up a fight and argue for the newest episode of The Great British Baking Show, but secretly he found the drama between foreign couples to be quite addictive and was eager to see their fate.

Y/N had promised him she’d be right down after she finished putting away the last of their shopping bags, bestowing Harry with the duty of plating their dinner and getting the television set up. But what Y/N had neglected to tell him was that while he was thumbing through the racks at the store that sold his favorite vintage t-shirts, she made a quick stop in one of her favorite stores as well, and was eager to see the garment looked as good on her as it did on the mannequin.

The lingerie set left hardly anything to the imagination, but that was just how Harry liked it. Y/N felt as confident as ever as she gazed at her appearance in the full-length mirror in their closet. As she twisted and twirled her body to get a good look at the bra and panty set in its entirety, she couldn’t help but think about how Harry would have her do the same exact thing when she decided to surprise him with it. He’d hold her hand above her head by his index finger and make her spin around him, and he’d wolf-whistle the entire time she showed him “the goods.” Sure, he was corny and stupid and had a horrible sense of humor, but that didn’t keep her from loving him and didn’t mean that Harry didn’t know what he was doing in the bedroom.

While she had plans for exactly when she’d be showing the set off to Harry, it did give her the idea to get ahead on a little something else. Harry was out of town constantly, sometimes for several weeks, and their intimate time is left to be taken care of over the phone. They’ve gotten quite adventurous in how they take care of each other when they’re not physically able to touch each other, but a good ol’ photo was always timeless and tasteful.

She figured she had time to snap a pic or two before Harry came looking for her, so she reached for the old polaroid camera that they kept on their jewelry stand and snapped a few photos of herself to stow away in Harry’s suitcase when he wasn’t looking. She posed seductively for them all, an inviting pout on her lips when they were visible, a gentle hand at her waist or cupping her breast when needed. It was almost as if she could hear Harry telling her all of the naughty things that he wanted to do to her as each over-exposed photograph fell to the floor at her feet, how he wanted to bend her over the bed and -

"Taking those f' yeh boyfriend, are ya?" Harry’s voice intruded the daydream she’d been lost in.

He was propped up against the door frame of the closet, twisting the thin silver band on his ring finger that he'd worn for nearly four years now.

“Came up here t’ tell yeh that the curry was gettin’ cold, but I see you’ve got other pressing matters t’ attend to.”

She felt embarrassment all over her body, quickly reaching for the scattered polaroid images on the floor and for shirt she had just taken off to cover herself up.

“Don’t,” Harry instructed with a shake of his head.

“Lemme see.”

Just as she knew he would, he grabs her arm, lifting it above her head and twirling her around like a ballerina in a music box. He eyed her up and down, making note of the ways the lingerie clung to her curves perfectly, and of the little details within the set fit her (his) taste to a tee.

“‘S pretty,” Harry mumbled, more to himself than to Y/N.

His eyes were growing darker, pants growing tighter at the notion of how much he enjoyed looking at his wife right now, and at the thought of what he’d like to do to her.

“It was supposed to be a surprise,” she pouted, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“A little going away present and then I was going to pack some of the pictures in your luggage before you left.”

To that, Harry chuckled and regretfully informed her, “If it makes yeh feel any better, I peeked in the bag when yeh went in t’ pick up our food. I’d recognize that bag anywhere, Y/N. You’re smart but yeh not as sneaky as yeh think.”

Harry tucked a stray bit of hair behind Y/N’s ear so he could kiss her forehead just about her brow, letting his hand drift down from her cheek to her neck and then to her collarbones where the straps of the lingerie sat prettily. It was clear when his index finger fumbled with the material decorating her breast that it wasn’t in his plans to leave the bedroom (or even the closet for that matter) without making her cum at least three times, but it wasn’t as if the dull throbbing between her legs that amplified with every second that Harry’s skin met hers would argue otherwise.

“‘S very nice of you t’ think about me when yeh were taking those pretty pictures of yourself.”

His demeanor had changed completely. He was no longer the light-hearted, easy-going Harry that he was before he’d caught her red-handed taking racey photos of herself to give to him. He suddenly became more rigid and stern - ready to tell his wife all of the filthy things he wanted to do to her, and also to see them through. Y/N liked the first Harry a whole lot, but found herself weak in the knees for the Harry that was in front of her right now.

“Thought dinner was getting cold,” Y/N wasn’t sure why, but she felt as if she needed to whisper.

“‘M not that hungry f’ curry anymore,” Harry matched her tone, eyes fixated on the curve of her ass that he could see thanks to the floor-length mirror in front of him.

“Hungry for something else, though?” Her voice quickly laced itself with charm, falling into the coy role she knew so well.

“Definitely hungry f’ somethin’ else,” Harry repeated, each of them knowing good and well that their curry was going to go bad and they were definitely missing that season finale.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles smut #harry styles imagine #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles blurb #asks

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yanderecandystore · 4 years

Note

can we get the bullies with a male slasher s/o?

I swear like-

I swear I already did something like this?? But maybe no??¿? XD

So anyway- Alright boo, let me see what I can do- Sorry but I decided to take liberty and… Make this one be very stupid XD

TW/Tags: killer reader :3 // mentions of death // mentions of h o r n i n e s s // I have no like- Idea how to make this work so- Let's just go with it lol // low-key based on dbd, although I never played the game I know only a bit about it- // REALLY silly :P

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

Horror Movies Cliches [Yandere!Bully OCS x M!Slasher!Reader - Headcanon]:

🎇 Let me set the stage for a quick sec!🎇

Let's just create a bit of context- Imagine the most over the top horror movie cliche you can think off- Some teens, hanging around a haunted place, everyone is organizing a creepy party while also trying to prank one another. The twins are part of this party because duh- They're popular? Rich? Pretty af? Everyone wants a piece of them tonight, especially you.

Although technically, not in the same way the horny bastards around here want to. While some are trying to impress them, and others try to prank them and humiliate them for at least once in their lives- You're looking for something more, well, important. You were done with being the one left behind, always ridiculed by the twins and their mob of "friends".

You wanted nothing more than sweet revenge tonight, and it didn't matter which rich asshole's blood would be spilled tonight- And even if your plan wasn't exactly foolproof, you were still going to go down and smash their skulls.

With a mask covering your face, gloves to cover your fingerprints and a baseball bat- You were ready for your first hunt tonight. What could ever stop you if not God itself?

Maybe you didn't calculate all possibilities of what could go wrong today, perhaps you should have considered that you weren't the only one bloodlusty in this party.

→ Adrien Coldwell:

Adrien is not really a- Adrien is-

What can I say about Adrien? Adrien is not the best at survival, or trying to survive, or wanting to survive-

Adrien is too lazy for this- He doesn't really put an effort in trying to hide himself, since he is sold 100% that this is just another prank. The only thing stopping you from finding him and smashing his bones is his natural luck which is conveniently protecting himself from being found.

God, this party is boring.

You would probably find Adrien by accident, just- Eating some snacks as all the other participants of the party were already dead. However- You weren't so lucky when you tried killing him right there, he ran away before you could grab him.

Now noticing how real the situation was, he was ready to find any means of communication to call for help, but it seems like all possible means of easy and quick communication has been cut off.

Adrien can either hide and pray for someone to come help him, or try to fight you off and stop you from hunting him. And of course he ain't fucking attacking you, what do you take him for?? Insane?? Dumb?? Nah bitch, he is hiding.

Up until this point, Adrien had no idea you were the one behind the mask. He thought you were a random creep that went insane and decided to take his anger out on some rich people- Which could mean he is half right and half wrong!

But honestly though, you're the last person that he imagined being capable of killing so many people in one night! He didn't even know you were invited to this party, which makes this so unfortunate to him, he could be wearing a cuter outfit if he knew you would be here!

One would assume that after showing their true identities to their victims before their death would cause their victims to become even more frightened and beg for mercy!- In your case though? Nah, that ain't happening.

Adrien is treating this situation with much seriousness as one would imagine he would- With none. Knowing that you're the one killing everyone with a bat is kinda pathetic if not hilarious to him.

After all, it's just "you". What evil can you do? Honestly, you came all the way to this place to make him "pay for his actions"?? Don't you have anything better to do on a Saturday night, honey?

To be fair- He kinda digs the "unhinged maniac" look you have going on, blood suits you so well. Hell! He bet it would suit him just as well too.

Your night was supposed to be one of pure gore and carnage, revenge against those that have harmed you- Yet here you are, being flirted with by Adrien, who is getting a little too into the "killer x victim" dynamic going on.

Ugh, you don't feel in the mood anymore… It feels so wrong when he keeps flirting about it.

In the end, you two have inverted the roles in a way. You were trying to get away from Adrien who was chasing you and making you embarrassed with as much flirting as possible.

Such an unfortunate night.

→ Alexandra Coldwell:

Alexandra would think this is all an elaborate spooky prank, yet she would be lying if she said she didn't find this all…. A bit too much.

No, s-she isn't scared! Just frustrated that this party sucks! It's so immature to just- Try to humiliate her by making her scared! Is such a low move.

Alexandra wouldn't do much effort into hiding since she doesn't think there is any danger nearby. You would have found her very early on, and you can imagine how frustrating it was to see her escaping from your grasp- You have forgotten how athletic Alexandra is, of course she would have ran away faster than you could snatch her.

Now noticing how real the situation was, she was ready to find any means of communication to call for help, but it seems like all possible means of easy and quick communication has been cut off.

Alexandra can either hide and pray for someone to come help her, or try to fight you off and stop you from hunting her. And of course she'll be fighting you- Pfft, what? You think she'll chicken out?? You literally made her break her nail- You psycho!

Up until this point, Alexandra didn't know you were- Well, you! She thought you were some random ass psycho trying to ruin some teens party for some "revenge" bs. So maybe she was half right, and half wrong!

Alexandra would have never ever imagined that you were the killer! Were you even invited to the party?? Why has nobody told her? She could have chosen something more cute for you, damnit!

Alexandra just laughs it off and treats it like every school day- Belittling you while all's giving mix signals of affection.

She isn't afraid anymore, why would she? You're just a little wimp who thinks that getting a wooden bat and dark clothes makes you scary. Dearest, you have forgotten who is the bigger dog around here-

You wasted your whole night just to make her terrified? Honestly, you need a better hobby- Obsessing over your bully is such a loser move on your part, although she would be lying if she said she doesn't appreciate the fact you care so much about her.

Alexandra was getting a little too interested into this "roleplay" going on- Wanting to be your final girl, after all it didn't sound half as bad. Maybe she has been a little too into those slasher fanfics she has been finding around- But damn, you look almost acceptable while drenched in blood.

Her lack of care or empathy towards those who have been brutally killed, while also drooling over you, reminds you that- Honestly? Fuck this. You should have expected a Coldwell to be a morally fucked up person- Why are you surprised?

You've been trying your best to go back home, but being constantly followed by an overly affectionate Alexandra is just as bad as being humiliated by an overly sadistic Alexandra. You got no rest that day.

Such an unfortunate night.

🍭꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍰꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖♡🍮꒰⑅ᵕ༚ᵕ꒱˖🍭

#yandere #sheep's stuff #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere twins #yandere oc x reader #yandere oc headcanon #yandere x male reader #yandere bully #yandere bully x male reader #yandere bully x reader #yandere bully x killer reader #killer reader #male reader #special delivery headcanons #special delivery request

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theyscreamjade · 4 years

Note

hii!! i want to send in a request of the bakusquad + todoroki experiencing a miscarriage with their S/O? i just finished the movie “Up” and i was so sad in the beginning and i began wondering what the characters would be like if they were in the father’s place, and also i absolutely love the way you write angst !

Miscarriages

Disclaimer: Miscarriages, Blood, Drastic Events.

———————————————————————————————————————

* The pregnancy itself was a shocker to many and he’s blessed he put a ring on your finger before knocking you up.

* Momma was about to beat his ass.

* He’s with you every step of the way, rubbing your back while you passed your guts out.

* The first month was hell because you barely ate because of how sick you were. It honestly scared him to see you in such a bad shape, and he had to force you to simply eat a cracker or ice so you won’t be dehydrated. You didn’t have cravings or anything.

* The second month seemed worse though, the nauseous moments were gone but the current issue was cramps. Intense cramps so bad, you’d wake up late at night with it. The heating pads, medication or anything would work.

* Everyone assumed it was simply the baby making room for it or something which you also believed.

* Until you saw blood in your panties one night, the moment you walked out. You looked as if you seen a ghost while trying to wake him up.

* A quick trip to the hospital and the doctor breaks it to you that you had a miscarriage. Bakugo isn’t the type to express his emotions in front of people, but the moment the doctor walks out.

* He’s breaking down. He’s usually the one to be strong for you, but...he couldn’t then. Everything slapped him at once while thousands of questions piled on him.

* Tears roll down his his cheeks as he falls to his knees, anger flows through his veins while sadness drowns his thoughts. What could he have done to prevent this?

* This honestly pains my heart to write this.

* Denki was over the roof when you told him you were pregnant, he was excited! Beyond that. Words couldn’t describe how happy he was.

* He was ecstatic to be a father and to be best father he can be.

* He was with you through every step, all the way to the fourth month.

* You and him stood in the doctors office, awaiting for the gender of your expecting child.

* You prayed for a boy while he wanted to have a electric princess waddling around to do things with.

* When the scanning began though, the doctor’s face became concerned. Her eyes frowned before she looked over at the monitor.

* You didn’t hear the usually swishing noise, the noise you craved to hear as she soon placed you on a stretcher. You were immediately escorted to a hospital which was next door.

* Another doctor did the exact same thing, he even placed a tiny belt around your forming stomach. The minutes that went through while he grazed your stomach with the technology that once blessed you.

* “We...We can’t seem to find a pulse.” He said softly, looking towards your two.

* “W-What?” Denki would say softly, staring at him shocked. “Y-What do you mean you can’t find a pulse?” He’d ask, making sure he heard the man correctly while trying to keep himself together. The moment you burst into tears, sobbing with you.

* It’s honestly painful to see the once bubbly, sweet guy with a heartbreaking saddened look on his face but his hand stayed locked in yours, the whole time.

* Your pregnancy was actually terminated so early, you didn’t have a chance to breathe in the fact that you were pregnant.

* You held the positive pregnancy test in your hands and the moment you told Kirishima after work. You waved it as if it was a lottery ticket

* His eyes nearly popped from his head, his sharky smile was on full display as he hugged you so tightly. He spun your around with happiness in his heart. He couldn’t believe he was fortunate enough to be blessed with a child.

* Unlike others, you didn’t really have the normal issues. You seemed to crave a lot of meat though, more wanting hamburgers and things.

* The first month was a absolute breeze and you didn’t have a ounce of morning sickness, morning problems, or anything. No cramps or nothing

* It was a normal doctors appointment, A simple check-up.

* Kiri wasn’t available at the time because the hero’s had a meeting, but...he’d cancel anything for you.

* The moment his phone rings your ringtone, the only thing you can choke out from your voice is “W-We lost it.”. His eyes were wide and he stood to his feet without a second thought, dashing out of the headquarters.

* He doesn’t care if he’s miles away, in the middle of something. He’s either speeding or running to the doctor’s office.

* He’ll burst into the room and see you holding the now negative test along with a few other things. Papers containing what to do afterwards and how to mend your pain though it wouldn’t fix your broken heart.

* He’ll pull you in for a tight hug, sobbing with you as he lets the emotions flow out of you and him. He’d hold you so tightly, sobbing into your shoulder while you cried into his chest inside the quiet doctor’s office.

* The moment you told Mina you wanted to have a kid with her, She was jumping for joy.

* She loves kids and couldn’t deny it.

* You offered yourself since she was a pro-hero and you wanted your future child to see how great their mother is.

* It took a while to pick a donor, decide on one, do the procedure and wait. That took the longest of all, You had to wait until your eggs were fertile and ready for everything.

* Sis knew before you knew that you were pregnant. When started smelling how sweaty she was or how she was around Bakugo or Kirishima, it was a dead giveaway.

* When you took the test, Boom. Positive.

* She went to Twitter, Instagram, Facebook and more posting about the growing family with excitement in her heart.

* Almost a month into it, She began making big plans. She was looking at houses so you two could leave the apartment you two shared. Pre-ordering cribs, baby chairs, baby changing tables. She had a Pinterest labeled ‘Future Baby Room.’

* Almost into month two, You began having cravings. She was devoted to the mother role, whatever you ate, she ate. Pickles and ice cream, Popcorn with caramel and siracha, hamburgers and strawberries. She was down for it all.

* Nothing was expected though, It just swung at you like a pile of bricks.

* You were cleaning up the kitchen when a rush of pain stung you so hard, you let of a cry that scared Mina. She rushed to your side and held you as you felt something wet between your legs.

* She placed you into the car without checking and sped to the hospital. Once admitted, Dozens on dozens of tests were done of you. So many that almost worried her. She tried to keep you happy but even she began to worry.

* When the doctor walked in, she had an expression she’d never forget. “I’m sorry, It seems as if you had a miscarriage.” Your heart shattered, refusing to look at your wife while guilt rushed through you.

* You couldn’t give her the one thing she deserved. The moment her hand touched yours, You couldn’t hold it in. You sobbed as she sobbed with you, thinking about the little angel that was gone now.

* Your pregnancy was perfect timing for everything that happened.

*You just got married, came back from your honeymoon and was able to enjoy married life for a minute

* You felt sick for a few days and it struck you one day to just check and see, Your eyes nearly popped out when you saw the infamous two lines.

* You didn’t wait a second though, You nearly speared Sero down and waved the test in his face. Tape boy was over the moon about it, he was more than excited! He was going to be a dad and be the best one yet.

* He always held your hair, rubbed your back, kissed your forehead and made sure you were hydrated after your morning sickness.

* He was a pro at midnight, midday and early morning cravings. He didn’t care if he had to drive across town for it. He’d do anything for his tiny bean.

* Pregnancy tracker was his favorite because he was so excited to know about the little bean that was waiting to be brought out. When you began to form a bit, He admired you. He dropped down and placed kisses all over your stomach while talking to the little thing.

* Around the end of your third month however, You began to have intense pains. It started out minor but increased rather fast.

* Sero hated to leave you alone that morning, He tried to call out and have someone take it but you told him you were fine and he should go.

* Which he did but never stopped checking his phone. Every minute, he glanced for a message, ringtone, something.

* When your ringtone did ring, he snatched it and answered. He heard the whimper in your voice, the scattered and static chatter and lastly the siren.

* He didn’t hesitate to leave that minute, He sped to the hospital. He barely parked the car and rushed inside. He walked in and told the nurse who he was. It sent chills down his spine when they said you were in surgery.

* Minutes turned to hours as the Baku-squad came to keep him company, to keep a smile on his face. Your name was announced and the minute she said “I’m sorry, She had a miss-” He shuts down.

* “Where is she?” He asked softly as his feet rushed to you before she could say the last number fully. The door sung open as your eyes connected and emotions flowed. You sat on the edge of the bed with a breathing machine on your nose as he hugged you, his hiccupped cries finally coming out while you cried in his arms. Your hearts broken by the bean you lost.

* Shoto is usually prepared for the unexpected like your relationship, marriage an so on.

* He wasn’t expecting to even be married and here he was. Happily married to you.

* The poor man wasn’t ready for the announcement though. It was a mixture of bad timing and horrible bluntness.

* Iida was pranked by his girlfriend so when you told him, He basically asked “Are you joking?”

* Poor man had to sleep on the couch for only three hours before you gave in and let him sleep in the bed again. It took that and kisses to get you to forgive him.

* Now, Shoto was prepare physically but mentally he was terrified. He didn’t want to make a mistake and screw up. He doesn’t want to bare the burden his father did to him and his family.

* Was he even capable of handling a little one?

* Two months in though, when he saw your stomach forming a little bump. He couldn’t help but feel excitement through his worries. He was going to be a father, a parent. He wasn’t alone, he knew you’d help him through every step.

* Like Sero’s though. It happened in a instant. At your baby shower no less, Fuyumi was on high alert. You was gorgeous from head to toe and yet you had the most uncomfortable look on your face.

* You couldn’t wiggle, sit, or walk it away. You wanted to ease it somehow but it didn’t seem to work.

* The mere minute you were about to discover the gender of the child, you blacked out.

* Natsuo luckily caught you before you touched the ground. When you opened your eyes, you felt the blinding lights of the hospital shining down on you. A soft moan slipped out as the pain was gone, but something was wrong.

* As if it was a signal or something, Shoto rushed to you and kissed your head. He was happy to see that you were okay, awake to say the least. It took a few minutes until the doctor walked in and finally laid the news on you. “I-I sincerely apologize but...You had a miscarriage, Mrs. Todoroki.” He said as Fuyumi gasped.

*You shook your head in disbelief, there’s no way. Everything was fine. You were fine. They were fine! The more you shook your head the more tears rolled. You hands gripped the side rails before you let out a scream in agony. The fire alarm was triggered, causing the water to spray down.

* Smoke hissed from Shoto was ice crystals were on the floor, He was frozen as his emotions and quirk couldn’t be contained. Questions rolled through his mind as each second seemed long, tears rolled down his cheeks as Nastuo snatched his brother into a hug while Fuyumi held you in her arms. Shoto wasn’t prepared for a tragedy like this.

#my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #my hero academy fanfiction #my hero academia fanfiction #i hope you like this #bnha angst #bnha shoto x reader #bnha bakugo x reader #bnha mina x reader #bnha sero x reader #bnha kirishima x reader #bnha denki x reader

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jade-it-queen · 3 years

Text

Jade. The fate of female character in Mortal Kombat

It’s been a while since I posted anything on my blog cause I’ve been busy with my life and rapid changes in it. During this time, I’ve watched the new 2021 Mortal Kombat movie as well as the new animation Battle of the realms and also rewatched the Story Mode of MK11 a few times. As you probably can tell, I have a lot to say.

JADE. MILEENA. KITANA. SONYA.

Skip this if you don’t want to read my very important (and long as sh*t) rant about female characters in MK.

DISCLAIMER. This thing is going to sound extremely feminist and women-supremacist or whatever. By saying things that I’m going to say, I by no means think that male characters should be weak or lacking. If anything, it would be nice to have some godforsaken EQUALITY. I’ll explain further later.

Part One: Mortal Kombat (2021)

There’s no Jade in this movie.

The end. That should be the sole reason I dislike it.

However, it might be better this way since the Nitara and Mileena portrayals in this movie are... questionable to say the least. Okay, y’all been robbed. If MY JADE would be brought into this movie to BE THERE for like 4 minutes of screen time only to get absolutely brutal FATALITY I. would. be. pissed.

More than I already am and that means something.

Sure, there’s a possibility that she’s going to be present in some of the upcoming movies because this one is definitely not the only one they’re going to make. But do I want that? Yes. And no.

Mortal Kombat movies (and Mortal Kombat in general) have a problem with women portrayal in general. The target audience for them are MEN, potentially heterosexual men, who want nothing more than bloody gorey fighting scenes with occasional sex scene here and there. To achieve that, they need a female lead, an attractive, kinda kick-assish but not too much, to not overshadow the absolutely badass men characters. Girls tend to be “independent” (because God forbid they’d want to express interest in the male leads before the time is right), sarcastic, laid back and sometimes even bitchy. Because, you see, they are fighters. And they are Sonya Blade. They need NO MAN. They just need plot armor, bigger than America itself. And if they’re not Sonya Blade, they are... non existent. They are there, but they are never really there. Here, let me walk on screen for a couple seconds. Let me sit beside Very Important Male Character (aka Shang Tsung) for a couple of seconds, looking absolutely gorgeous. Let me have a fight scene in which I make choices so f*cking stupid there’s no potential explanation to it. I exist in this movie to make people that love me (this character) to come into theatres in hopes to see some good action and interesting plot.

Now, I wasn’t born yesterday, I know how the world works. It’S bEeN LiKe ThAt FoReVeR, gEt OvEr here iT. Yeah, it’s been like that forever and the result is a mediocre movie that pleases neither the casual viewer, nor the actual Mortal Kombat fan. I don’t know, there might be guys who just saw Kung Lao’s fatality on Nitara, thought to themselves “Neat” and went on with their lives. But I exited the cinema with a sour taste in my mouth, feeling like I’ve watched one of the “fighting genre” films based on video games that had nothing worth remembering. Well, besides Kano. He was my favourite part of this movie and I normally can’t stand the guy :’D

Would it really help if they changed the way the women were portrayed? I mean - is that the ACTUAL problem of the movie? No, women being the eye candy and barely something else (if they’re not Sonya Blade) are not the only problem it suffers from. It’s that MK has been going the same route, retelling the same goddamn story for the millionth time. It’s always THE SAME. The only thing changing is who’s gonna get brutally killed. But - of course - out of the “disposable” character pool. It’s never Sonya (because you need our female lead or else there would be no female characters in the story), who ya know could be killed by Mileena but magically WASN’T. Because Mileena FOR SOME REASON was like: Ya know what? Naaah. Even though Sonya’s from Earthrealm and is actively trying to stop you. If anything, kill her because she annoys you. BUT NAH. It’s never Liu Kang because he’s the Chosen One. But killing Kung Lao is fine, he can die so Liu can awaken or smth. It’s not the main character because how else can you portray THE MAGIC OF LOVE AND FRIENDSHIP? Ya, that’s what I thought, don’t even think about it.

You have an amazing universe, filled to the brim with SO. MUCH. POTENTIAL. Let go of the same boring plot line and show us Kombat from another perspective. Change something. F*ck, go all feminist route and make a story center around Mileena dominating the world. Try with different versions of the same story, making it center around different character each time.

SURE, YOU’LL PROBABLY LOSE SOME VIEWERS BUT TIMES ARE CHANGING, AND MOST OF US ARE TIRED TO PAY FOR THE SAME STORY OVER AND OVER AGAIN.

Part Two: Mortal Kombat Legends: Battle of the Realms

Jesus f*cking Christ.

To say this film was rushed is an understatement. While I was watching it, I was like: TF? Everything happens all at once, we have Kuai Liang-Scorpion story line, we have Outworld’s attack, the tournament, not to mention the final fight that should be whole another movie. I felt like no story line was properly laid out, some of the characters died before I got to even know them and the battles were... disappointing. I believe they needed to push this movie out so they squished in everything they had and just went with it.

But, again, this movie just repeats the same things as its live action version. Let me lay it down for you:

Kung Lao dies (because yes)

Sonya Blade lives (because yes)

Jade is just there (more of it later)

disposable characters are disposed of

Liu Kang is badass and always wins

You watch it and feel like you’ve already seen it before. Sure, gore is fine, human Raiden is precious and need to be protected at all costs and adrenaline is pumping (I guess).

BUT NOW.

You know what’s coming.

JADE.

My f*cking piece of sunshine, the gorgeous goddess of beauty and kombat, the woman who owns my heart.

She’s there for like not even a minute.

Words can’t describe how f*cking PISSED I am by this portrayal. These motherfrickers put her in EVERY SINGLE POSSIBLE SNIPPET OF THIS MOVIE. HER BATTLE WAS IN THE TRAILER, ONE OF THE SNEAK PEEKS WAS A SCENE OF HER AND KITANA.

TURNS OUT EVERYTHING I SAW BEFORE THE MOVIE WAS RELEASED... WAS EVERYTHING I WAS ABOUT TO SEE OF HER!!!!

THEY MADE ME HYPED UP FOR NOTHING!!!!!!

I know I’m not the only one riding this trolley. Li Mei was there just to be killed. Kung Lao had a f*cking single dialogue line and then BAM, fatality, buh-bye. But I was watching everything of this movie, being so enormously happy that I will finally see Jade in the movies, FINALLY! Only for her to be present in a single scene, get her ass kicked by Liu Kang (what’s new) and then she’s never seen again, even when the whole f*cking world is breaking apart.

Again. She’s just there. Ladies and gentlemen, one of the best Shao Kahn’s assassins, gets her ass kicked in fourty seconds. They NEVER let her speak ffs. She just spews some general villanous sh*t and proceeds to step on Johnny. Then, she just goes Observer mode as Kitana “betrays” Shao Kahn, gets tied to the column and then the world is ending.

WHERE THE F*CK IS SHE?!

If you hype me up for her every chance you get, at least GIVE ME what you’re advertising. This is a scam. This is criminal offense. And homophobic. She is more than a revealing outfit and Liu Kang’s punching bag. I’m SO. F*CKING. TIRED. OF THIS. SH*T.

Kitana. The rebellious princess of Outworld... turned damsel in distress in this movie. Her role is so effing bad it hurts me to my core. You see her as a general being so badass and independent... oh right, we need Liu Kang to save her because he needs to maintain his hero look. And we need two kissing scenes. How do we get there? Oh, right, let him save her, because you know - that’s what makes wahmen kiss you.

ARE YOU NUTS?!

The movie started just fine, with Kitana being in charge with her right hand, Jade. Then, obviously, they water her down and soon she is a princess in a tower (in this case, princess on a column) that needs her buffy sexy man to save her. Oh, and she can’t resist him - you know, every normal girl’s reaction to getting untied is to kiss a guy you’ve known for like a few hours but seen before and you’ve talked like three dialogue lines in total. Sure.

Kitana just gets the unfortunate role of a female main character. She’s Liu’s love interest and that makes her take the role of a strong (but surface level, only) woman who still needs her hero to free her. Classic damsel in distress story, with Kitana being the princess, Liu being the Prince charming and Shao Kahn as the dragon (lul). Of course, they try to cover this up by making Kitana a general, letting her win a few fights but it won’t matter in the end. Some say that women want to believe in fairy tales but the more I see fighting games’ lore, the more I say it’s the men who want to believe them.

Is it necessarily bad? No. But it’s boring as fuk.

I would like to ask the directors to stop being so afraid of upsetting the target audience. Target audience can change and sometimes it comes out better than originally planned. My Little Pony was designed as a child’s cartoon but it was the creepy men who made it reach the top. Morally? Questionable at best. But business is booming, right? And that’s what they care for, right?

All I’m trying to say is these days women and gays are the future.

Thank you for today, more to come. I’m going to rant about the Story Mode.

#Mortal Kombat #mk jade #kitana #nitara #mileena #battle of the realms #female #commentary #article #mortal kombat movie

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inky-duchess · 4 years

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Things Writers can learn from Scream

The Scream Franchise though it does have its flaws is actually one of my favourite film sagas. Wes Craven's features have taught teenagers around the world how to avoid slaughter from a masked fiend but as writers what can we learn from the master of horror himself?

Being Meta

Meta is the termed coined for when a particular work takes an opportunity to comment on its genre. Scream is a whole film that spends its entire run poking fun at the horror genre itself. The characters lampshade clichés (Randy has this role over the main trilogy), insult their foils in similar works (Sidney roasting all other final girls as big breasted bimbos for example) and the whole work is unafraid to really poke fun at itself. The comments on the genre, characters and story itself are refreshing but meta references are like salt, too much spoils any dish. Though the concept of Scream is a meta commentary on the horror genre as a whole, the films know when to quit. There is no point beating the audience over the head with commentary. If your story is a journey, any meta reference is a treat of some McDonald's. If you as a writer, chooses to comment on the genre you're currently writing or want to make comment on real world issues, there is nobody stopping you but coose your battles.

Genre Rules

So Scream runs on a very simple formula. Each film follow a series of rules, lampshading that very horror film/ trilogy + reboot does indeed follow formulas. For example- Rules to succesfully survive a horror movie: Never have sex (virgins usually survive these situations). Never drink or do drugs. You will nearly always die if you say "I'll be right back", "Hello?" or "Who's there?". Sequels- The body count (or volume of action) is always bigger. The death scenes (plot points) are always much more elaborate. Never assume the Killer/villain is defeated. The final chapter of a trilogy- The Killer (antagonist) will be more difficult to defeat. Anyone can die (the stakes will go up). The past will bite you in the ass (the past will catch up with a character or prove to be the undoing of the antagonist). Remakes- Don't fuck with the original. As writers, we have to face the truth- all genres have rules and expectations. Don't clock yourself for being unoriginal if your WIP falls into a category. But that doesn't mean we are constrain. You have rules in the genre but that doesn't mean you can't bend them. Sidney has sex in the first film, Randy drinks at the party, Gale says "I'll be back", even Joel the camera guy lampshading that diverse characters don't often make it through to the climax. The audience expects them to die and they are spared, which is a refreshing turn of events.

Red Herring

Scream is also a whodunit at heart. Ghostface is a persona taken on by many antagonists over the four films. Most of the films keep up the suspense by teasing characters as the possible killer. Red herrings is a literary trick devised to mislead the audience and sometimes characters from deducing the truth too easily. In the first film, we are given more than our fair share of red herrings. The most masterful red herring is Billy Loomis. The film makes a hard go of planting the idea that he is the killer: a phone falls out of his pocket after Ghostface has chased Sidney around the house, a tendency appear when Ghostface has suddenly vanished from a crime scene, and acts so creepy, that the audience assumes he isn't actually the killer and the writers are trying to distract us. It all comes to a head when Ghostface stabs him during the final bloodbath right after Sidney plants one last seed of doubt in our heads. While Sidney runs around trying not to die, the audience and no doubt Sidney, feels bad for doubting Billy. But in a twist, he has faked his death and is one of two killers. Multiple characters over the franchise are used as red herrings: the overzealous blade happy Principal Himbry, Dewey who is nearly always absent when Ghostface calls, Derek who is a red Herring by default because we naturally suspect the boyfriend after Billy, Kincaid's knowledge of horror and his popping up odd times, Deputy Judy for her creepy behavior and knowledge of the prior crimes, Billy-Loomis-expy Trevor in Scream 4. Make the audience look left while you hit them from the right.

Pov trick Shots

So I've spoken about how much I love multiple POVs and all the tricks you can play with them. And Scream 2 provides the best example. All throughout the film, reporters gather about our characters trying to get interviews. Gale and Cotton are both approached by Debbie Salt, a seemingly nondescript background character who is likely there to get killed for entertainment value. Then comes the climax and she strides into view carrying a gun. The audience and Fake don't understand at first but Sidney sure does and she would, as Debbie Salt is Mrs. Loomis. Sid could recognise Mrs Loomis despite her lost weight (Gale only clicks after the fact) but Sidney never meets Mrs Loomis until the end of the film. Had she met her before or stumbled across her, the film would be over in seconds most likely.

Foreshadowing

Foreshadowing is when the events of a story are lampshades before they happen. Scream is one of the top works that does this well. On the topic of Mrs Loomis, she is foreshadowed so heavily that it almost is laughable when you rewatch it: Randy says that the killer could be somebody other than a white male citing Mrs Vorhees as his prime example (Mrs Loomis is the first Ghostface's mom), Randy is then rather savagely slain in a frenzied attack in broad daylight after badmouthing Billy and then she even foreshadows her own identity by claiming before other reporters that the new Ghostface could be from Woodsboro. In Scream 3, Randy's sister - who we didn't know existed- suddenly shows up with all the answers foreshadowing the reveal that Roman is Sidney's half brother and holds the answers to why all the killings happened. In Scream, Randy jokingly tells Stu that he'll see him in the kitchen with a knife after flaunting the 'I'll be right back' rule - and Stu ends up there, wielding a knife.

Characters

The thing with franchises like this, is that they often bring in new characters to surround the main character as they go through their travails. In the first Scream, Sidney has Tatum, Stu, Billy and Randy as friends. We see them interact with Sidney and other characters, they have personalities and their deaths actually impact us. Each of these characters shine on their own though Tatum is perhaps the flattest of the first group of friends but her rapport with Sidney and Dewey saves her and makes her death impactful. The background characters of Scream 2, we're introduced to Hallie, Derek and Mikey. Mikey did not have enough screen time for the audience to attach themselves to, he's merely as Randy puts it "the creepy film student". Hallie can only be seen around Sidney and does little except support Sidney. Derek does venture out of his supporting role, with having a goal (winning Sidney's trust), having a personality (his humour with his song) and being seen without Sidney (when the frat kidnap him). In Scream 4, almost every supporting character is ridiculously clichéd. You have the douchey guy (Trevor), the nerd (Robbie/Charlie), the edgy cool girl (Kirby), the pretty one (Olivia). The only one who makes any sort of impact is Kirby for showing us some personality and her death is actually hurtful. If you're going to introduce new characters to a story, they cannot be statuesque. They are people too. They need drive, personalities, lives outside the MC's life, goals of their own and should be seen acting as independent entities if they are to be taken seriously as characters.

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msgrumpygills · 3 years

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Social Media Anon Here!

Firstly, never change Grumpy ;) you are probably the only person on Tumblr to LISTEN to another view and let it change a prejudice.

Secondly, the Padagram/Social Media change bus continues. Don't be fooled people will be looking at positive and negative reactions to that change on social media.

So here goes!

1. They are starting to market season 2 of Walker in Hiatus. That really doesn't happen. That means they know they need to target new viewers. They are acknowledging they have a problem. The main problem is Jared either didn't learn enough about production quality on SPN (Jensen/Misha were both more interested in behind the camera's) or that he thought he could stick a Stetson on and we all had such sh1t for brains we'd watch anything. So they need a viewer boost DESPARATELY and are going all out to (a) persuade Walkers remaining viewer(s) that it's worth sticking around and (b) get back old viewers or convert 1m+ viewers to season 2. So now we see all the cast (and Keegan has more followers than Jared and Lindsay has a VERY engaged following) trying to persuade their followers how fabulous Walker is. Expect this scrabbling to continue if they want their COVID paychecks.

2. Connected to 1, Jared has started trying to break out of the fandom bubble. I don't think he's trying for power couple (the clue in a power couple is that two FAMOUS people get together and create a super brand, here we have one niche C famous guy and a hanger on wife), I think we are in Jared profile raising and trying to raise his recognition score, which is probably a little low having half assed it in the last year and a half. He's doing it by scatter-gunning so I'm not sure it's going to stick.

3. Connected to 2,

(i) if I run my algorithm clean laptop with a "Jared Padalecki" news search, I get (a) a daily mail article on Jared "clarifying the rift" (b) a "hello" magazine saying he's been "inundated with support after death of "family member"" (c) the new york times article on Walker and Supernatural. It then goes into a variety of articles about Jared raising money for Holly's family (fucking atrocious in my view to use her death for publicity) and a series of derivative articles on his mantrum and later explanation. ONLY THE NEW YORK TIMES ARTICLE MENTIONS WALKER other than as a throw away, all of the others link to Supernatural only. Walker isn't on the main radar of anyone as a show. It's not mainstream enough to mention. it has ZERO buzz.

(ii) if I run the same search on my compromised tablet, I get a SEA of fluff articles "jared padalecki goes to venice", "jared padalecki's wife wishes him a happy birthday" "jared padalecki goes to watch soccer" "jared padalecki goes to the wrestling". I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow.

At the end of that I get the same articles as in (i) but the majority of his publicity is still going through the fandom and the, not very viewed, endless zine type websites that update on every episode of every geek show every day.

So we are seeing, and I expect it to continue, a break out Padalecki, (who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films), and a fluff Padalecki, trying to stay relevant a year after SPN relevance ended, because he hasn't got the same push for season 2 of Walker as he had for season 1 and Walker has zero presence. No one, not even the fans are talking about Walker.

Will it work? I don't think so. Keegan has 7m followers on Insta and that's because he's a photographer and writer and it's interesting. I would follow his account (I don't), but certainly it isn't a Walker instagram.

Jared is a clever guy, but he's boring on social media. He has a limited appeal. He does family snaps, hunk snaps, flogs orange pee and flogs his show. He says "family" and "mantra" a lot but that's really it. The clue is, if you didn't know who he was and came across his instagram you wouldn't follow him. Why would you? For a video of a guy running up steps? A smug picture of two middle aged men trying to flog you something?... (oh and lots of "brother" comments on Keegan's social media, which is irritating. It's like he thinks that is his repeatable formula and it isn't).

His media approach won't work because advertising and exposure pushes a product. In TV's case, it's not a one off product and there is a lot of competition. Product Jared needs to be more interesting (his mantrum's are the only exciting thing about him - and that is tragic) and his TV show just needs to be BETTER, well, a LOT BETTER.

Soooo, expect the Padapush to continue, but it's not about a couple, it's about individual marketing and for Jared breaking out of SPN bubble. For Gen, it's her tag along profile that she'll never break out of. She'll have to be satisfied with her superpower of being able to persuade people to buy toothbrush's and dog food (if she can).

Expect though the couple's bit to die off a little. Jared is getting over exposed. His engagement rating is plummeting (nearly 3% is a plummet) because of the repetitive photo content. He'll have to back off or people will switch off (I have already). What makes me laugh is.... from the dawn of time when cavemen took their wives 2 miles away for a new cave weekend.... NO ONE HAS EVER BEEN INTERESTED IN SOMEONE ELSE'S HOLIDAY SNAPS.... Gen and Jared apparently need to learn that lesson...

I might stop these posts now because, well, it's gotta be a bit boring for you and I write LONG. :)

Stay safe and wear your masks ;) xxx

I don’t want you to ever ever change, lovely! Also, I’m NEVER bored by your messages! You put so much effort into the research you do and the messages you send and it’s appreciated! <3

I started following Lindsey on IG because she seems pretty genuine, and her cat is way too cute! Plus, I like her attitude. I haven’t followed her for the whole Walker season, but even she doesn’t post a lot about it. She posts interviews and then posts about that night’s episode, but other than that, nothing. Can’t speak for Keegan, but how are fans and non-fans supposed to be excited about a show when the people STARRING in the show can’t be bothered? Maybe they’re all aware of how shitty it is or maybe they’re lazy, but it doesn’t make sense.

I’m always interested to see the difference in an “algorithm-free” setting and one that has an algorithm. I always figured Google was the same for everyone, but seeing the difference in articles you’ve outlined is insane. It really just goes to show that Jared isn’t the star that his stans think he is. He’s not as important as they think he is, he’s just an actor. It’s even more jarring to see just how little Walker is talked about at all. All of my devices probably have been “contaminated” when it comes to algorithm so I can’t really speak personally about the public and fans talking about Walker or not talking about it. I can say that on the posts about Walker from the Supernatural Facebook page, a good chunk of the comments are people saying they stopped watching, never got into it, or thought it was trash. There are only a handful of comments talking about how they enjoy the show.

I think it was disgusting for him to use a fan’s passing for publicity. And no, I don’t think it was anything other than a PR stunt. Her family had a GFM going that was promoted by plenty of the case INCLUDING GEN, so you know he knew about it. But for him to make his own special one and then have articles posted everywhere about how charitable he is? That’s gross PR bullshit and I hope it backfires.

I still follow a few Supernatural fans, Jared fans, Jensen fans, etc. on Tumblr and even they aren’t mentioning it. I think maybe the hardcore Jared stans post gifsets or whatever, but I don’t see much praise for the show itself, just Jared’s looks. Even the fans aren’t biting and that would make me reevaluate everything if I was Jared.

I'm expecting "Jared Padalecki defecates regularly" tomorrow. This made me laugh way too hard!

who knows he and his forehead may wish to have a final crack at films You are on a ROLL! Maybe I’ve become biased, but I can’t see Jared doing films. I mean, I could see him doing like a side character role or something small, but I can’t see him having a big part of a movie. Like I said, maybe that’s me being biased but I see him staying in TV. I could be proven wrong, but I don’t know.

I agree about Jared being boring on SM. I used to get some giggles from his Twitter posts and even some of his early IG posts because they were goofy, clever, and candid. It showed his humor and was more personable. Now it’s just all fake and comes off as someone whose only motivation to engage with fans is money and that’s a big turn off.

For me personally, I think that if instead of the “couple goals” bullshit that they try to push for their lavish trips, if they just posted cool pictures they took of different locations, activities, food or whatever, that would be more palatable than all the “Look at my hubster and I! We’re in Italy! Look at how in love we are!” But maybe that’s because I’ve become a bit of a photography nerd?

I guess time will tell whether or not Jared will make positive changes and if Walker can be saved, but I’m not really optimistic about it.

I AM optimistic about your takes on things so keep them coming! Long posts or not, I love them! <3

#grumpy answers #social media anon #anti jared padalecki #anti walker

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iron--spider · 4 years

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I woke up at 3am yesterday to watch The Devil All the Time and I’ve been thinking about it since. I’m gonna put my thoughts and feelings and a review of sorts behind the cut, because I am gonna talk about it freely, so there will be spoilers! So don’t click if you don’t wanna see. I’ll also be discussing the content of the film and I know that might bother people, so that stuff is in here, too! And it’ll be really long because you know I can’t shut up.

So, I loved it. I loved it loved it loved it. I read the book a long time ago when I first found out Tom was gonna be in it, and the only problem I had with the book was that the POVs would change in the middle of a paragraph lmao, but other than that I thought it was pretty perfect. I knew the movie was gonna be pretty brutal, because the book is brutal, so I was prepared.

-BUT I think the critics HIGHLY HIGHLY exaggerated how bad the content was. Like, seriously, they acted as if this was gonna be a Saw movie. I was preparing for blatant, horrific gore, but it didn’t live up to their dramatics at all. There’s blood and nasty situations, but every single episode of Game of Thrones is worse than this movie, as are most episodes of any crime drama on a paid network. I actually thought they were super, super tactful of all their horrific shit. The dog death was off screen and the shot of the body (described by the critics as literally traumatic) was so quick (enough to shut your eyes) and in the dark. I also argue that particular moment is extremely important for Arvin’s journey, because it’s the moment he truly turns on his father and turns on religion entirely, and he carries it with him his whole life (it’s what he flashes back to when he says “I know what my daddy did” because it’s the marker of all Willard’s mistakes) and it winds up being one of the last things he does before he leaves everything behind. Burying Jack’s bones. So, like, I despise dog death or any animal death in my entertainment, but it’s important here and handled well. And all the worst death scenes are either extremely fast (Helen’s and Gary Matthew’s) or shown in negative (all the photos). I think Bodecker’s headshot with Bobo is probably the worst and is also pretty quick. I don’t know if this means I’m a jaded bitch, but God the way they were all whining and crying, I thought it’d be a million times worse. It could have been, with the book’s descriptions, so it was actually pretty tame. Lenora’s death affected me the most and they cut away from that, too. I guess it’ll still bother some people, but there are many, many mainstream things that are far more violent and gory than this was.

-I thought it was a beautiful movie. I never mind films that are slightly slower but I love ones that use their time to lay things out and really show us what’s going on, build the ambiance and the relationships. I loved the narration (which I was worried about), and it really made me feel like we were visiting a moment in time that was important. Like something that was written and should be learned about. Rumors in a town you’re passing through. The ghosts of past trauma and transgressions looming over everyone that’s left.

-I liked the changes they made with Roy and Theodore because I thought that storyline kinda meandered in the book and I’m glad that Roy was actually gone the whole time and not just neglecting to come back to Lenora.

-The only real complaints I can make, I’ll get out of the way here: I wanted a little bit more time with Carl and Sandy. Carl was really creepy, but he could have been much creepier. In the book he was the one looking at the pictures constantly, Not Sandy, and that really showed that he was the one with the sickness, the one pushing them forward and orchestrating it all. I thought they did well with showing how Sandy deteriorated in her efforts with him through the years, but I would have liked to see a bit more of their personal lives together and her fear of him and her genuine feelings about what they’re doing, because the book goes into that a lot more. I also wasn’t a fan of Lee finding the picture early and knowing some about what they were doing, because I liked how it was a surprise to him in the book and yet he still did all he could to cover it up. And lastly, in the book there’s a scene with Arvin after he kills Sandy and Carl where he’s in a motel and he takes like 18 showers because he can’t get the grime of what he’s done off of him, and he looks at the picture and has a nightmare about killing Sandy, and I really would have loved if they’d kept it in. It would have been another ‘acting’ moment for Tom, and it would have been nice for us to see his direct trauma and reaction to everything that’s piling on top of him.

-BUT that’s it. I loved pretty much every single other thing and decision that they made. The cinematography was TOP NOTCH. You could tell they filmed on 35mm film, you could see the grain, and it really, really added to it. Antonio Campos is a very skilled director and I trusted him at the helm of this story. Everything looked so authentic, all the sets and the costumes. The soundtrack and score were AMAZING and enhanced the film. Technically it was just perfect in every regard to me.

-Acting! Acting! God this was like...a massive testament to the casting department and the talent of these people. Everyone was on their A game. Bill Skarsgård has been on my radar since Castle Rock (which I recommend to everybody, both seasons) and he was so natural and great in this role. Haley Bennet was absolutely adorable as Charlotte, I loved her cute face and her sweet relationship with little Arvin. Riley Keough was so great as Sandy with the limited amount of time she had, and Jason Clarke is one of my favorites but he was unrecognizable in this as creepy ass Carl. Harry Melling was a far cry from Dudley Dursley and he did a great job with his screen time, too. Same with Mia Wasikowska, who didn’t have much to do (same as poor Helen in the book) but she was able to garner our sympathy anyway. Seb Stan was slimy and gross but he pulled it off so well. Eliza Scanlen has been one of my favorites since Sharp Objects (another one that’s brutal as hell but I recommend it, she’s so scary) and she was so, so great here. Robert Pattinson was ALRIGHT, everybody talks him up over this but he felt a little hammy to me and a little too over the top, but there’s no denying his talent.

-Now, the reason we’re all here. Tom. My God. As soon as it was over I just didn’t know what the hell to do, I didn’t even know how to....go on, lmfao. We all know he’s talented, that’s why we’re here, that’s why we love him, but his performance in this is just BEYOND all that. Beyond comprehension. The man is only 24 years old and he’s out here outacting people who have been in the industry for longer than he’s been alive. He is SHOCKINGLY good. I knew he’d be perfect for Arvin as soon as I read the book, but he just completely embodied this role in a way that I couldn’t have imagined. He doesn’t show up in the movie until about 45 minutes in (which doesn’t hurt it because of the strength of the leadup, Bill’s performance and the performance of little Arvin’s actor) but God, as soon as he’s there the whole thing comes to life in a way that it hadn’t before. Tom is literally just a shining light, and he draws your eye in every single scene he’s in, and when he’s not there you’re wondering when he’s gonna come back. Arvin, to me, is a very complex character—he has been inherently changed by how his father twisted religion in his childhood, how deeply he betrayed him by his behavior, but he still has a kind heart and a protective streak and the need to be strong despite the pain nearly breaking him apart from moment to moment. Tom is just outrageously good at portraying all Arvin’s little nuances, how he clenches his jaw, how his voice breaks when he’s afraid or trying to convince someone of something or get his point across, how his hands tremble after he’s done something he wishes he didn’t have to do, how his whole body wilts when he realizes he’s emulating his father. And his eyes. Tom can do so, so much with his eyes that it’s unbelievable. He tells you so much with just a simple look, a glance, a wince, a long blink. I’m not exaggerating when I say he’s just an absolute revelation in this, he cements his place in Hollywood with a firm hand and a tender look, and I will not be forgetting what he did here anytime soon. There’s a reason that everyone called him out for being so stunning in this. He is magnificent. He has a gift.

-I wanna say, in particular, how much I love Arvin’s relationship with Lenora. Their lives were both marked by such tragedy and pain and Arvin just took up the torch of protecting her from the moment he said hello as a child. He wants so badly to be tough, and he IS, but there’s just miles and miles of love in this boy’s heart, and it manifests itself for his family—for his uncle, for his grandma, but for Lenora in particular. I loved how he just showed up when she was being harassed and just ran in there without thinking, and it’s purely devastating that he was out taking care of her bullies while a worse predator was cornering her. The scene where she was sick wasn’t in the book but it was a beautiful addition. Tom sometimes wears this very open, unguarded, honest expression, and this is the only scene in which he shows it, and it really expresses the love between them and how much she means to him. Arvin didn’t find Lenora’s body in the book, but it was the right change for them to make. Tom was devastating here, and that pain and that moment truly fuel every second of his journey through the rest of the film. “My Lenora”. The saddest siblings. Both Eliza and Tom did so beautifully with this relationship and I hope they work together again.

-Favorite acting moments for Tom: when he’s in the car in the rain after beating up the bullies, when he’s in the church crowd and realizes Preston is insulting his Grandma (the way his face changes oh my GOD), when he finds Lenora, when the cop comes to tell him Lenora was pregnant (this is just....so damn good), when he was telling his uncle to look after his Grandma, THE ENTIRE CHURCH CONFRONTATION (the way he trembles when he’s trying to get his attention, how he speaks the whole time, how he slowly gathers his strength), when he thinks Sandy has shot him, the moment where he’s over Lee’s body and just....pleading with his eyes for him to listen and realize what he’s done. And the last scene, in the car, all the emphasis on his face....once again, he can do so, so much with a look, with his eyes. Someone called out the beautiful last shot in the film, and of course, it’s Arvin’s sleeping face. And it was so beautiful (and devastating, to think of him enlisting. Tom draws so much sympathy that you just want Arvin to have a normal life so badly. He deserves it, he does, but will he get it?)

-Last thing I’ll say, I really loved how, despite turning his back on religion, that God seems to be protecting Arvin the whole time. He’s terribly afraid confronting the preacher and that could have easily gone badly, especially when he tosses the book, but Arvin was somehow able to get a shot off and get the upper hand. And with Carl and Sandy, he senses something is off immediately once they pull off the road, and he would have absolutely been killed had Carl not switched out Sandy’s bullets for blanks. And in the confrontation with Lee, he once again shoots at the same time as him, shoots without looking, and manages to come out unscathed and on top. A few spoiler reviews pointed out that the last person that picks Arvin up is supposed to be a Jesus-like figure, almost like he’s finally been saved. It hurts that everyone around him that he loved is almost forsaken by God, but he himself is protected. It’s such a complicated commentary on religion throughout the entire piece, but it’s so interesting and engrossing.

So I’d recommend this movie to anyone that loves movies, loves Tom, can deal with a gritty story that takes its time laying out all the chess pieces. It is definitely heavy subject matter but it doesn’t go overboard with the horror as it easily could have. Yes, there are triggers to look for, but the critics hugely over exaggerated how awful it was. I can probably go get time stamps for certain things if people wanna ask me after reading this, but if you can get through a Tarantino film or any HBO drama, you can do this. And Tom’s performance is one for the ages and not one that deserves to be passed over or downplayed. It is beautiful and heart-wrenching—a magnificent turn that displays his monumental ability to reach out and guide you into any world he decides to make his own.

I loved The Devil All the Time.

#tom holland #arvin russell #the devil all the time #text post #LONG #I’M SORRY

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woahitslucyylu · 4 years

Text

NSFW Alphabet - Rio.

GIF is not mine, credit to OG creator.

He felt left out, so I made him one too! Everyone’s favorite money launderer is here with allllll his dirty secrets. Enjoy, frands!

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NSFW Alphabet A = Aftercare (What they’re like after sex)

Rio lives to take care of you. You hold him down and after sex, he’s just as gentle and compassionate. He will wrap you in his arms and remind you all the reasons that his success is yours too. A warm shower and a cold drink await you after most sessions complete with take out from your favorite restaurant.

B = Body part (Their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rio loves his lips/smile. He knows a simple smirk can make you melt into a puddle. He isn’t above using it to manipulate you in the best ways. A slow lick of the lips, a smug smile, or a soft kiss can buy him a few hours if he has fallen out of your good graces.

He loves your hips and ass. Your curvy frame fits so perfectly with his slender muscular self. He loves to feel you soft against him in bed as he runs his hands over your curves - leaving your skin electrified under his touch. He loves the dip from your back to the top of your ass, the perfect place for his hands in all situations.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum)

Inside or in your mouth - he finds your willingness to accept him in the most intimate ways erotic.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Rio loves to make movies. His favorite angle is when you’re on the bed, back arched, and ass pressed against him and he makes you fuck yourself as he watches himself disappear inside you.

“Keep going, mama. I didn’t say stop.” The erotic sound of skin against skin filled the room as you rolled your hips against him, moans slipping through your mouth. “You’re such a good girl. Look at how you take me.” Your praise kink is on overdrive as you come apart beneath him - another Oscar worthy performance.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

His list isn't long, but he knows what he is doing. Always the gentleman, you come first, second, and third - he will leave your body sore and sleepy with his expert skills.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying)

Rio loves you from behind - he loves watching your ass bounce as he pushes into the mattress. He lives for you on top too. When you just can’t wait any longer, and you take control. He lays back willingly, puts his hand behind his head, and watches you sink onto him - the stretch makes you bite your lip and lean forward. He will pull you close - holding your throat with ever so much pressure and thrust into you - leaving you panting and begging.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

Sarcasm, mild degradation, and dry humor are Rio’s calling cards and they don’t disappear in the bedroom. He will make you drip with his words, and chastise you for being so needy. As you grind against his jean-covered thigh, begging for more, he will reprimand you for making a mess - heat running through your body as he slides his fingers over you, feeling just how wet you really are.

H = Hair (How well groomed are they, does the carpet match the drapes, etc.)

Appearances are important, so he leaves nothing to be desired. He’s neat.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

Rio spends his days playing a role and with you, the doors open and his real self tumbles out. He presses his forehead to yours and whispers sweet nothings as you greet him from his work day. He is content to watch you play Iron Chef in the kitchen as you talk about your days together. He finds the most comfort in breaking down the walls and letting you - physically and emotionally.

J = Jack/Jill Off (Masturbation headcanon)

Rio may rub one out, because work has kept him away from you. The movies you create make it easy to remember how good you feel.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

Needy, begging - Rio gets off on knowing you need him. It’s borderline codependent shit, but he loves it. When you pout around the house, your shirt tight and in just your panties, huffing and puffing while you wait for him to finish working is one of his favorite things. He knows you’re a brat, and he indulges in your tantrums, edging you until you slide into his lap, palming him through his pants and whisper how much you want him in your ear.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

Rio moves in the shadows, so it only makes sense that he fucks in them too. Late nights at the warehouse have you laid across the table as he fucks you - erotic noises echoing through the empty room or you slide into the backseat of the wagon, sinking onto him as Mick waits dutifully outside as you chase your release.

M = Motivation (What turns them on, gets them going)

Rio lives to provide for you, so being able to fulfill every request - sexual or otherwise - is his motivation. When the bills are paid, you have more than enough money in your account, and you can’t walk from countless orgasms, that’s when he feels most successful. When you came into his life, success suddenly meant something different and taking care of you in every aspect is his reason.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Rio is illusive, so threesomes are out of the question. He is invisible, and you’re really the only woman he needs.

O = Oral (Preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc)

You’re a brat and Rio tames you on your knees as he fucks your throat relentlessly. He gazes at you through half-hooded eyes, watching you gag as you open your mouth wider for him. “Mama, just like that.” His hands thread through your hair, pulling the strands so rough that you moan against him - sending shivers through his body. “See, you can listen, can’t you?”

On the flip side, Rio loves to eat you. He enjoys the feel of your full thighs around his face as you rock back and forth. You were so apprehensive at first, but he reassured you, “Darlin’, if I die underneath you, it will be the happiest moment of my life.” The feeling of power, yet subtle submissiveness in the act of you riding his face is a powerful aphrodisiac.

P = Pace (Are they fats and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

When he’s punishing you, he holds nothing back. You will feel every inch of him as he pushes you into the mattress or pulls you against him. Your skin will be marked and bruised, your ass sore from spanking - he will remind you he’s the boss. Yet, he has such gentleness when he’s reallllllly making love to you. His hands sliding over your breasts - just barely touching you as he kisses right beneath your ear, nipping and sucking as you moan beneath him.

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

With Rio’s odd hours, sometimes a quickie is all you have and you will gladly take it any way you can. Sneaking away on lunch breaks is your MO and getting fucked raw in the parking lot by your crime boss boyfriend helps pass the rest of the day with ease.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

Rio’s whole life is a risk, so it only makes sense that he takes calculated ones on with you.

“When will they be here?” Your voice was soft in the dark car. “Not too much longer.” Rio threaded his fingers through yours - his thumb rubbing your hand reflexively. “Not too much longer, huh?” You inquired as you slid your hand over his jeans - feeling him grow hard underneath your touch. Your hands worked expertly to slide him out of his jeans - your mouth watering as you slid your tongue around his length. “Mami, now?” His dark eyes filled with lust as he watched your cheeks hollow - taking more in each time your head bobbed. Rio’s head laid back as you choked against his length, sliding your flat tongue, feeling each ridge. “Mama. Fuck.” His fingers pulled your hair - his tightening grasp directed your efforts as you felt him come undone - your throat filling with him.

Sitting up, you wiped your mouth - a coy smirk breaking over your face as you realized Beth had been watching from the swing the whole time.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

Rio can push you to your limits and he always makes sure you come first. You are more than accommodating and he spends his time worshipping you.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

Rio is not a conventional lover, and he will gladly tie your hands - teasing you with the lack of touch while he stares down at you. “Oh mama, what do you want?” His voice rough into your ear as he rocks against your hips - his fingers expertly rubbing your clit as you struggle against the binds.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Rio knows how responsive you are and loves to leave you wanting more. A dirty whisper in your ear as you wait to be seated at dinner, his hand resting right above your ass, his beard rubbing against your neck will leave you asking for the check before you’re even finished with the meal.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

Rio isn’t loud, but he talks.

“Look at you take this dick, mama.”

“You’re such a good girl.”

“Darlin, I didn’t say you could come.”

“Take it. You asked for it.”

“How could you think you could move my pussy?”

“Fuck yourself till you come.”

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

Rio is a sucker for cheesy romance - rose petals on the floor, candles lit, a bubble bath in a heart shaped tub - he loves it all. The weekend spent in Vegas felt like a rom com, but watching your man be intentional with his choices and his time makes your panties wet.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

He may be skinny, but his dick isn’t.

Y = Yearning (How high is their sex drive?)

Rio is a busy man and compartmentalizes most of his feelings, including his sex drive. He misses you constantly, but money ain’t going to wash itself, so he keeps his shit together.

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Rio keeps odd hours, so he does fall asleep after, but it’s without guilt, because you’re snuggled right there with him.

#rio #rio fanfic #rio good girls nbc #rio good girls #rio x reader

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chemicalpink · 4 years

Text

Starring Role ♡ Kim Namjoon

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x Reader

Genre: smut, angst

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: unprotected sex, emotionally unavailable Namjoon, infidelity, dubious consent

A/N: HELLO I am back with this series I’m so sorry it took so long I’m trying my best at organizing my life but you know how it goes. I really liked this one so I hope you do too, please let me know what you think! I love you!

Summary: I don’t love you, big fucking deal. Don’t ever tell me how you feel. I know you’d rather walk alone than play a supporting role but you can’t get the starring role.

You toss on your bed for what feels–and probably is– the millionth time, a light breeze coming from the open window that helps your shivers intensify as you try to cuddle further into the bedsheet, the body sleeping soundly beside you doing nothing to keep you warm or even help you sleep. Namjoon’s naked and very much toned back greets you after you quickly glance to the alarm clock: 4:55 am, without even a blink of sleep in.

So you see, Namjoon is a great guy, he really is, it’s just that well- he likes to keep to himself, and not in an ‘I’m dark and mysterious’ type of way, but as in ‘I’ll talk about my feeling over my own dead body’ type of way. They could be so similar and so difficult to identify one from another. That’s what lured you in.

You can still remember the first time you met him, as every story out of a movie. Perhaps that was the first red flag. Real-life isn’t a movie after all. Being a party animal isn’t really how you could describe yourself, but sometimes, things get lonely and what better way to drink your problems away than to do so with a bunch of strangers right? After a few beer pong rounds and shots accompanied by intoxicated dancing in the middle of the living room and in front of the TV, you took a seat next to this good-looking blond guy with his eyes stuck on his phone screen, tongue lapping over his lips over and over again.

“Wouldn’t mind being your phone screen right now if it meant you staring at me like that” you blurted out, perhaps it was time to go home. The good-looking stranger immediately locked his phone and put it away while turning to look at you, a smirk on his pretty face.

“Well I guess tonight’s your lucky night then” if he was as intoxicated as he later claimed to be – which you are still doubtful of– he didn’t look like it. Plus, your bubbly drunk self didn’t help one bit to the situation.

You both started talking, Namjoon smiling at every word that came out of your mouth, his hand not so subtly touching your leg while you found weirdly specific excuses to touch his arms; the third time your eyes drifted off to his lips you asked him to walk you to the kitchen –arguing that you didn’t want to fall over with your heels.

You had barely grabbed his hand, gaze clear with your intentions when his hand wrapped itself around your waist, hot against your exposed skin. His lips were on yours the second you found yourselves inside the kitchen, hands all over each other, no clothes taken away but rather bunched up or around the ankles to give access to the ministrations, thankful for the loud music covering up the sounds of what was going on on the kitchen counter.

There wasn’t a single week after that you could go without Namjoon–which by the way, took you three more fuck dates to get his name. He was just that addicting. Friends with benefits. Not even friends. More like acquaintances that got used to fucking their frustrations on the other. More suiting.

The sun wasn’t even in the sky for it to come through the blinds, but the moonlight did a pretty good job at illuminating the man’s face, the most beautiful you had seen. Your fingers started tracing the side of his face feather-like, down his naked torso and you couldn’t help but wonder when exactly your heart started skipping a beat at the thought of him out of normal settings. The man could barely hold a conversation with you if he wasn’t pumping himself in and out of you. Hell, you didn’t even know what he did for a living.

“Music” he had said one day when he showed up to your apartment, eyes puffy most probably from crying–but you wouldn’t dare ask, his lips working wonders on your exposed cleavage skin. That was just the effect he had on you. Namjoon had to do the bare minimum to get your panties wet and he knew it well. Since day one. Eight months later, somehow he still had the same effect on your body.

So what if you weren’t able to drink your problems away back then when clearly Namjoon’s dick could distract you enough from them. Even when he was, indeed, the biggest of them all.

You decide to get out of bed and start making breakfast, a first attempt at making him stay a little while longer. Bravery for the not-so-newly found feelings, you tell yourself.

You are about to plate the most perfect sunny-side-up when the door to our apartment clicks shut; you don’t even have to check your bedroom to know that Namjoon is missing, you just sigh to yourself and try–and fail miserably– not to feel the void inside your heart. It had been like that since forever. Namjoon isn’t one to stay over longer than a necessary nap after sex, or visit earlier than 10 pm; you couldn’t quite stop the feelings of regret and self-hatred once you had your hopes up anyway.

“Nah, that asshole left again?” Seokjin, your best friend said as soon as he entered your apartment, a common occurrence for him to just stop by from time to time, and obviously up to date with the whole Namjoon fiasco “Y/N, sweetheart, I love you so much but you are a fucking dumbass”

This surely wasn’t the first time Jin had tried to convince you to leave Namjoon for good, saying that you deserve so much better than to be abandoned in the middle of early morning and no words until your clothes came off, but there was just something in Namjoon that your friend would never understand.

A good talk with Seokjin later (not without his constant mother-like behaviour) you find yourself ignoring the third notification in a row from your phone, quite out of character for Namjoon really. So what if ignoring him from time to time giving you a sense of control, a fake one at that, cause deep down both you and your lover know that he is the one that has you wrapped around his little finger. He should begin to learn his lesson that you are more than just a fuckhole he can access whenever it’s convenient for him– Seokjin’s words, not yours, but they work either way.

“That’s what I’m talking about, Y/N! Ignore his ass!” he takes a sip out of whatever it was he found in your kitchen and decided to serve it in a mug “You know, I was actually supposed to go to a family gala tonight, why don’t we both show up and get wasted in name of ou retrieving control of your life?”

The suggestion doesn’t sound so bad, perhaps you could even find someone that would actually like more than sleeping around, or just- someone to distract you for the night, the way it had happened back then with Namjoon.

“Yeah, I’m totally in, come back at 8?” you suggested to Seokjin, to which he clapped his hands together in an overexaggerated manner before hugging you goodbye and disappearing out the door.

Your phone did ding a few times while you were dressing up, a few others inside Seokjin’s car to the gala before arriving at the beautiful hotel from where a bunch of overly dressed people walked in and out of.

You and Seokjin are soon enough inside the building, him handing you a champagne flute from a waiter passing by, gingerly taking a sip out of it before time seems to come to a halt all at once, throat closing and almost projecting the amber liquid into the floor when you dance your eyes around the room and they settle on a much too familiar figure– Namjoon. All suited up from head to toe, a side of him that you had never seen before, the again, you can’t really say you know a side of him anyways. He laughs in a way that you wished you had seen before and under other circumstances, before he places his hand – the one that you’ve had around your throat and inside your cunt countless times– around the waist of the woman beside him, your heart stops beating for a second as you watch her show off her ring finger with a sparkly rock on it, head turning to place a sweet kiss on Namjoon’s cheek. Your whole world seems to tumble down at the sight.

“Y/N? Is everything okay sweetie?” Jin turns to you from where he was talking to some of his friends

“Yeah, I’ll just- I need to use the restroom” you smile a tight lip smile at his companions before scurrying down the hall, a few heads turning to your direction at the somewhat of a commotion of someone actually running and the sound of heels against the marble floor.

You hang your head low on the bathroom counter in front of the mirror, there was, indeed, a part of you that knew it was most likely for Namjoon to have a girlfriend, but a fiancee? And the fact that you were the one he was cheating on with? It was about time you hit rock bottom though, Jin had been telling you on and on that Namjoon seemed the type to have a lot of secrets, then again, you didn’t listen.

Sure, your heart seemed to break a little– or a lot. But dear, the poor girl out there with a ring on her finger, if she only knew- that the man she was about to marry sleeps on your bed most of the time after he had fucked your brains out.

The sound of the bathroom door closing makes you turn towards it “You might as well be naked with that dress” Namjoon groans as he clicks the door locked and starts walking towards you, cornering you against the sink. He chuckles as his hand starts fiddling with the end of your dress, tracing the inner part of your exposed thigh “There is no way in hell you’ve got panties on you right now”

“Namjoon!” you swat his hand away but his smirk just deepens as his other hand presses you against him

“Kim Seokjin huh?” he turns you so his crotch presses on your ass, his hand making you face yourself on the mirror “You really think he can fuck you better than I can?” you let out a breathy moan as he finally reaches down your dress as his skilled fingers caress your folds roughly, teasing your entrance as he humped against you at the same time, the familiar burning feeling in your belly forming already, but you are able to fight it enough.

“You never told me you were engaged” your eyes search his in the mirror.

He groans and finally inserts his fingers in you, making you tumblr forward at the invasion “ah… details, Y/N”

Your mind gets blurry and whatever words of protest die in your mouth as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you, your legs buckling but him keeping you standing as he seemingly had the fun of his life at seeing you like that “Look at yourself, Y/N” his hand cups your cheeks and turns you to your reflection, hair dishevelled, face flushed as he stood behind you, lips closing in your ear “Sometimes, you just have to settle for the supporting role, baby”

You moan in response, or at least at what you meant for it to be a response, since you are cut short by the sound of Namjoon’s zipper followed by the feeling of his exposed cock coating itself in your juices, teasing your cunt, which made you grip the counter tighter “I need you to understand something, Y/N” he slides in, barely giving you time to adjust before he starts moving inside of you “There will never be a ring around your finger” his hand goes down to cup your pussy, large fingers playing with your clit, making you arch back into him, forced once again to examine the image in front of you, reminded that somehow you had signed up for this yourself and was never meant to escape “But you’ll always have me in your bed”

He picks up the pace, lewd noises resounding in the acoustic of the bathroom, skin against skin harmonising with moans and grunts, Namjoon speeding up his hips, the extra stimulation on your clit forcing you to climax at the same time as he spilled inside of you, hot against your walls, your arms trying and almost failing at keeping you on your feet as your legs continued to spasm after he pulled out “You might want to find a way to keep it in” Namjoon mutters against his breath as he fixed himself, referring to the way his cum was already dripping down your inner thigh, before walking at the door

#hyunglinenetwork #networkbangtan #bangtanarmynet #bts smut #bts imagine #namjoon smut #namjoon imagine #namjoon x reader #bts x reader #namjoon scenarios #namjoon oneshot #namjoon fic #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #rm smut #rm imagine #rm x reader #bts angst #namjoon angst

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butgilinsky · 4 years

Text

the last five years // rc

warning; language, angst if i’ve ever seen it, mentions sex one time

summary; rafe has to decide if the last five years with you is worth saving.

word count; 3k+

i was listening to if i didn’t believe in you from the musical the last five years and got this idea. so you could say it’s inspired by that song but kind of the whole musical?

“i have to go, y/n!” it was the same argument the two of you had been having for the past year.

rafe had some event he had to go to, according to him, in order to keep up his image at work. it looked good for business if he was always there, drink in his hand and bright smile adorning his lips. you knew it was truly just him wanting to go to these events rather than staying at home with you, or even going out with you, ditching the tie and blazer for one of his long sleeves and soft hair.

you had met rafe in college, and it had honestly been a dream. the last five years of your life seemed to revolve around rafe and your relationship with him, and you liked it like that. for four years you had never had a doubt in your mind that you wanted all of rafe, all the time.

you were fairly young when the tall, broad shouldered boy caught your eye. you had been going shot for shot with one of his fraternity brothers for the past twenty minutes, failing to suppress your drunken giggles for the past ten.

his friend, admittedly, had no idea about your unusually high tolerance for the amber liquid he’d been pouring out for the both of you. he had no idea that you had three older brothers that had thrown house parties every time your parents went away for the weekend, which was a lot more often than most teenagers experienced.

you had started drinking regularly with your brothers at an all too young age, finding it funnier now than you did back then. though the boys that protected you at all costs hadn’t peer pressured you into anything, you had made it your life mission to be able to hang with the older crowd that was almost always at your home.

this did, however, set you up for college quite comfortably. you were never the sloppy one at a tailgate, and you’d never be the one that couldn’t walk home with her friends, no matter the mileage you had to endure.

rafe had been astonished by the sight of you downing three shots back to back without making a single grimace. you had opened your throat, barely tasting the slight sting as the liquid flowed expertly. you didn’t need a chaser, and even let out a small smirk when the boy across the table from you coughed for someone to hand him anything to wash down the whiskey.

“holy shit, y/n!”

y/n. the name echoed in rafe’s mind as he watched the scene in front of him. most people in the house were watching, gathered around the half assed decorated table in the middle of the room. you had a smile spread across your face when your friend, who rafe didn’t know the name of, dropped his hands down on your shoulders and cheered along with your other supporters.

“y/n has three older brothers, dumbass.” your friend, who rafe had seen a few times (he remembered one of his brothers talking to her at a party a few weeks prior), kissed your cheek drunkenly, which made your laugh fill the air around you.

rafe was smitten before he even had a chance to introduce himself. though, you didn’t need an introduction. you knew the name, knew the face. you had looked over him a few times before, having been in his house a few times for the parties that were the solution to parties being forbidden in greek village.

you hadn’t paid much attention to the boy until that night, locking eyes with him more than once. the last time you’d caught his eye without either of you making a move towards one another, still a few yards apart from one another, was when you winked at him from across the room before downing your sixth shot of the night.

he had never felt his heart beat so fast in his entire life.

the rest was history. rafe had never let you spend another party without slinging an arm around your shoulder for the majority of it. you’d never spent another night after a long, excruciating day by yourself. you were almost always with one another, and it seemed easy for the longest time.

you had spent the first year and half of your relationship in college, both graduating together and finding your somewhat dream jobs in the same area. you’d gotten married young, and though none of your friends had been surprised, your family made no attempt to hide their hesitation.

you knew about rafe’s home life. you didn’t spend much time on the island that rafe had grown up on, much to rafe’s satisfaction. you knew his family well enough, spending a few brunches and quick lunch hours with sarah after you two had grown heavily acquainted with one another.

ward grew a liking to you, giving rafe proud smiles more often than he ever had before rafe had set off for college. you’d brought a sense of pride back to the forefront of his father’s mind, and for that, he’d be forever in debt to you.

however, your seemingly picture perfect life didn’t stop the problems from developing. you had done everything you could think of to keep the bright spark between the two of you, but nothing seemed to be playing out in your favor. not after rafe’s company had completed a large merger that had been a turning point in rafe’s career.

he was thriving, setting plans in stone that would snowball rafe into inevitable success. his large role in the merger had granted him a hefty raise, as well as a guaranteed spot in the company for many years to come. though this was a bright light in both of your lives, it required things from rafe that he had never expected to have to endure.

he wasn’t home much. whether it was travelling on business trips across the country (sometimes even out of the country), or black tie events, rafe had been flooded with busy hours. hours that used to be dedicated to you, but no longer were.

while you were happy for rafe in more ways than you could count, it was impossible to ignore the growing tension between the two of you. you hadn’t seen him for more than an hour after he’d arrive back at your shared home, usually opting for a shower before crawling into bed.

to say it was weighing heavily on you would be an understatement.

you’d tried to fix it before it got too far out of reach, trying to set up dates or nights in for the two of you to stay up to date with one another. that quickly failed, due to rafe’s required overtime, or intense need for sleep once he got back to the house.

you had snowballed into a routine. you’d go longer than you’d like without seeing rafe, and while it weighed heavily on you, he had enough of a distraction to not pay much mind to it. and to top it all off, whenever you’d bring up these feelings, rafe would jump to his own defense, claiming that his career needed to be his number one priority.

“you don’t need to go, rafe. you want to go.” your tone was harsh, but your heart was heavy. you’d felt your husband slipping through your fingers for longer than you’d ever wanted to before, and you were out of solutions.

“sure, y/n. i want to go, let’s call it that. even if that was the case, it should be enough for you to understand that this means a lot to me. the fact that you can’t see that is a problem within itself.” your eyes focused on the tie he had been tying for the past ten minutes, getting repeatedly frustrated enough to make a wrong knot, or flip the piece of fabric over in the wrong direction.

you stepped forward, closing teh gap between the two of you and reaching up to fix the knot he’d made. your fingers worked slowly, enough for you o notice the slight tremble in them as you worked the thin piece of silk around his neck.

“i know it’s important to you. i just wish i was that important to you.” your voice was soft, exhaustion and defeat evident in your tone.

it wasn’t the rafe didn’t notice that, because he did. despite beginning to slip away from you, he knew you better than anyone else ever had. he knew you better than you knew yourself at times, and barely anything ever slipped by him. he was the most observant person you’d ever met, and it worked to his advantage more than not.

“you are important to me. you’re the most important thing to me, y/n, but i can’t put my career on pause to eat chinese food with you while we watch a movie we’ve seen a hundred times already.” you chewed on the inside of your cheek, letting your head fall into a slow nod while you smoothed the lapels on his jacket.

“i’m not the most important think in your life, rafe. i haven’t been for a while, now.” you whispered softly, leaning up to kiss his cheek softly before making a turn towards the stairs leading up to your bedroom.

“y/n, you don’t actually believe that.” he called after you, watching you pause in stride, sleep shorts riding up your thighs with every step enough to expose more of your legs than he’d seen in weeks.

your shoulders had fallen, head falling. forward slightly as you let out a sigh through your nose. you turned over your shoulder as you reached out towards the railing up the side of the staircase.

“if you don’t believe that, rafe, then we’re living in completely different worlds.” rafe shook his head, trying to ignore the worry filling his chest at the sight of you walking away from him to end your night before his even began.

“baby, just come with me. i’ll stay by your side all night. a few conversations and maybe a couple glasses of champagne and we’ll come back home.” you shook your head, knowing that that had been nothing but an empty promise.

“that’s not going to happen, rafe. we’re going to show up and you’ll be swept away from me before we can ever say hello to somebody. i’ll be whisked away by other wives and drink wine i don’t even like for hours before i see you again. nothing about this stupid event is different than the last ten we’ve been to.” rafe ran a hand over his face, frustration building back up quickly.

“you know, i can’t slow down my career just to be in line with yours.” there it is. his go to defense mechanism.

“i’ve never once asked you to slow down for me. all i ask is that you pay me more than one glance a week. more than one shared affirmation or kiss for days on end. i don’t even remember the last time we had sex, rafe. the last time you kissed me or even hugged me for fuck’s sake.”

rafe stood there, tongue between his teeth as he tried to filter his thoughts. he didn’t remember, either, if he was being honest. he was exhausted by the time he got home, that he hadn’t even thought about any of those things.

it was a lazy kiss to the forehead after a shower, before he’d roll over and fall into an easy sleep. a sleep that you couldn’t fall into with him. it was a quick ‘hi’ while you stood at the stove, making something he barely had an appetite for as he slipped into your shared room before changing out of his suit before you could even return the greeting.

it was the lack of eye contact, or the smiles that were no longer shared between the two of you. it was the fact that the pictures on the wall and the heavy stone on your finger were the only reminders that you were even married to this man. the thought of being the same couple you had been just two years prior so distant that you thought you had dreamt the first three years of your relationship.

the fourth year had been the transition year to where you had been now. it wasn’t the same high you’d felt back in college, or the first year you’d been married. it wasn’t the same, but it was good enough. the last year, however, had been the recipe for disaster.

the last twelve months had been your worst nightmare coming to life just before your eyes. you were lost without rafe, truly. you didn’t know what you would do the day that one of you moved out, taking every sign of your relationship with you. the day was bound to come at some point, you were just waiting to see who would be the one that made the move to end this cycle for good.

you were trying to wait it out, trying to see if he had the guts to pack up and leave. you knew you were a security blanket that rafe would deny having. you brought him a sense of warmth and comfort that he wasn’t sure he’d ever find again. he knew you’d love him endlessly for the rest of your days, even if the two of you split one day down the line.

he knew that no matter what, he’d come home to a house with the porch light on, along with, at the very least, the stove light turned on so he could navigate the house. there’d be whatever food you’d made and hadn’t eaten yourself sitting in the fridge, plastic wrap over the top of the dish so it was still good by the time rafe got home.

he knew that you would always set the coffee pot with everything it needed to brew at 5 in the morning, long before you’d wake on your own. rafe knew you’d always be here, and he took it for granted.

you knew you couldn’t bring yourself to do it on your own. you didn’t have the stomach to pack your things while rafe was at work. you didn’t have the heart to call one of your brothers or parents, asking for help to move your things out of the home you’d bought not that long ago.

your lives were too entangled together, creating enough ties that you worried about breaking. you were stuck in this life, and you were scared you’d never fall out of it.

“i’ve never asked you to do that, rafe, and i never will. your career took off far faster than either one of us expected it to, and there’s not another person on this planet that’s happier for you than i am. i love with you my entire being, even if you don’t feel that way anymore.”

he stepped forward then, walking over to stand in front of you, closer to your height now that you stood on the first step while he was level with the ground of the first story of your house. his hands found your waist, a solemn look on his face before he laid his head in the crook of your neck.

he pressed a soft kiss to your neck, sighing out and staying still for a moment to soak in the almost unfamiliar feeling. your hand easily threaded into the hair on his head, fingers scratching gently at his scalp while he moved to wrap his arms around you.

“i love you. i’m sorry you’ve ever had to doubt that.” he pulled his head back, titling it enough to press his lips evenly against yours, reigniting the fire inside of you that you thought might have been gone forever. “i love you more than i’ve loved anything in my entire life.”

you’d be a fool to fall back into line with him. to ignore the past year as if it had never happened, and to move on without a second thought was a rookie move that you convinced yourself you’d never fall for.

fortunately for rafe cameron, you were a fool for him. you loved the man so deeply and so absentmindedly that falling back into his embrace and convincing yourself there was still possibilities untouched was easier than breathing for you.

“i can’t stay in this place forever, rafe. i’m suffocating and if i don’t get to breathe soon, i’m going to fall over the edge.” he nodded slowly, his eyes fluttering shut as he tried to let himself bask in your confession. you weren’t going to stick around forever if nothing changed.

“i’m going to do better.”

and though you weren’t sure you believed him, your desire for the simple words to come true was enough for you to sleep that night. it was enough to keep you hoping for weeks to come.

you’d keep leaving the light on for rafe, even when you fell asleep on the couch accidentally, laptop still open on your lap and a half full cup of coffee sitting on the coffee table.

except this time, rafe would come home and grab the cup, pouring the brown liquid down the sink and moving your laptop to the table before shutting it closed. he’d throw his jacket onto the back of one of the chairs tucked under the dining room table before looping an arm around your back and another underneath your knees.

you’d wrap and arm around his neck in your sleep, nuzzling your head into his neck instinctively, though it was enough to bring a soft smile to rafe’s lips as he walked you up the stairs and into your bedroom.

rafe cameron was going to get it together for you, because the last five years was too important to him to leave it all in his rear view mirror.

#rafe cameron #rafe x reader #rafe #obx #the obx #the outer banks #outer banks netflix #outer banks #drew starkey #rafe angst

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fireinmywoods · 4 years

Note

You've mentioned before that Bones pretty much never calls Jim anything but "Jim." Do you think it's significant that at his birthday party, Bones has everyone toast to "Captain James T. Kirk," and not to "Jim"?

Well, he’s not “Jim” to all those folks, is he?

Sure, during informal downtime like this or a Meaningful Moment while on duty, one of the captain’s inner circle might occasionally call him by his given name - but Leonard knows at the party that he’s speaking to a room full of people who look at James Tiberius Kirk and see their captain first.

Oh, granted, he’s their much adored captain: the captain who traded his life for theirs, the captain they’d gladly follow into hell because he’s proven that he has what it takes to get them out the other side. Any one of the people in that room would jump in front of a phaser blast for him. (In fact, Uhura effectively did just that earlier in the movie.) They admire him; they trust him with their lives; they are fiercely devoted to him. They love him, each in their own way - the senior crew especially - and they know that he loves them in return.

But none of them love Jim the way Leonard does.

They couldn’t if they wanted to, because none of them know Jim like Leonard does. The crew has been through a whole hell of a lot with their revered captain, but Leonard is the one who’s seen him at his worst, at his weirdest, at his lowest and loneliest and most unguarded. He alone has scraped Jim off bar floors and put him to bed on the couch under his granny’s quilt to sleep it off and been awoken the next morning by the melodious sound of hangover puking in the head. He alone has stuck steadfastly by Jim’s side since the day he met the already disreputable bar brawler on the shuttle, took in the busted face and the bloodstained shirt and the small empty smile that didn’t reach those absurdly blue eyes, and decided they were two of a kind. He alone devoted himself to Jim long before that was a popular or even justifiable thing to do, before Jim had proven himself to Starfleet or his peers, before it became unmistakably clear that Jim Kirk was going to Be Somebody.

Leonard loves Jim in a different way than his fellow crew members do, shares a different kind of bond with him, and he’s a touch protective of that love and that bond. I wrote recently that Jim mostly refers to Leonard as Dr. McCoy to the rest of the crew because Bones isn’t really for anyone else. Well, the same holds true in the other direction. Leonard sees only Jim when he looks at him, always, no matter the situation, but he’s not necessarily eager to share him with the rest of the class. The crew can have Captain James T. Kirk, so long as Leonard never loses Jim.

Consider this: Jim’s birthday isn’t exactly a secret. Everyone on the Enterprise knows that Jim was born the same day as his father’s famously heroic sacrifice, the same day as an historic event they literally study at the Academy. Every idiot in Starfleet knows that date, at least in the abstract. But Leonard is the only one who understands Jim’s complex relationship with his father’s memory, because Leonard is the only one Jim’s ever been willing to open up to about it. So it’s Leonard who makes a point of acknowledging Jim’s birthday even though he knows from all their years of shared history that Jim would have him ignore it, and it’s Leonard to whom Jim ruminates on what it means for him to be turning 30, and it’s Leonard who says to him: “You spent all this time trying to be George Kirk, and now you’re wondering just what it means to be Jim.”

Leonard cares more than anyone else on the crew about Jim finding the answer to that question, because it’s always been Jim he’s concerned with first and foremost. He’d follow him anywhere - hell, death itself, or even (shudder) New Vulcan - not so much because he trusts him as a captain, but because he wants to be where Jim is. If Jim were to decide to leave the great Captain Kirk behind and instead take on the role of a vice-admiral or an Academy instructor or a goddamn pig farmer, Leonard would be right behind him, grumbling the whole way and death-glaring anyone who suggested he didn’t actually have to follow Jim’s lead if he was so aggrieved about it.

Not that that’s likely to happen any time soon. Jim is an outstanding starship captain: it’s a role perfectly suited to his strengths and passions, and (outside of the odd existential crisis) it’s deeply fulfilling and gives him both the community and the sense of purpose he’s been chasing his whole life. Leonard understands that even better than Jim does; thus the party. But at the end of the day, captaincy is only a role, a means to an end, and Leonard is far more devoted to the man than to the chair. He just wants Jim to be happy - and to be happy, he just wants Jim.

I want to be clear that in no way am I seeking to devalue the relationships Jim has with all the other folks at the party. The Enterprise crew is a textbook case of found family, and Jim and Leonard both have incredibly rich and meaningful relationships with many other people. And at the end of the day, they are a family which exists because they are a crew, because they’re stuck with each other for (at minimum) five long, crazy, claustrophobic years, because they have been through no end of shit together, because their bonds and sense of shared identity are what keep them alive and sane and kicking ass as the very finest crew in the Fleet.

And, like many families, they will change, grow, and scatter over the years. Alone or in pairs, crew members will take promotions, accept new assignments, or retire from active starship duty. Many of them will prioritize remaining with these people on this ship for as long as they can, but eventually even Captain Kirk himself will leave the command chair, and life and duty for his hundreds of former crew will go on. The core group will almost certainly come back together occasionally, professionally and otherwise, but in the times between, their bonds be stretched across lightyears, a little muted and faded by the immediacy of daily life. Everyone is the hero of their own story, after all, and those stories will take them through new places and new adventures and new relationships and, yes, new families too.

Jim and Leonard are a different kind of family. They became that for each other long before they came onboard the Enterprise, and the essence of their relationship is unaffected by pesky details of rank or mission. Leonard will never accept reassignment or seek advancement if it means going somewhere without Jim. He’s a doctor, not a ladder-climber, and he’s never been especially passionate about Starfleet or its mandate. He’ll stay on the Enterprise as long as Jim does, and when Jim leaves, he’ll follow him wherever he goes next. Simple as that.

(I have a...complicated...relationship with the comics, but I’d be remiss not to note here that of all Jim’s tight-knit and loyal crew, Leonard is the one who ships out with him on the Endeavour in the Boldly Go comics - even taking a demotion to do so - not long after the birthday party in question.)

You may have noticed that I haven’t even touched on the capital-L Love aspect of things. The birthday party is pre-paradigm shift, by my reckoning, and I honestly believe that all of the above holds true whether or not you imagine that they are inevitably headed toward romance. Leonard and Jim’s relationship is just different in AOS. Their friendship is older and deeper and more exclusive than in the original timeline. They’ve grown together in every way, become more integral to each other’s sense of self. They are simply different people than their TOS counterparts, Jim especially, and I’d argue that Jim being a different person has made Leonard a different person along the way.

But, as I so often say, that’s a post for another day.

#otp: bedside manner #kirk #mccoy #mckirk #fic related #star trek #aos #ask #anon #i really loved this ask anon! thank you for your patience - i wanted to get this one right.

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

Choices - You Chose Dean

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: None really, some mention of Dean putting himself in harm’s way.

Choice: [You chose Dean Winchester]

Y/N = Your Name

—

“Right… So, to make sure we’re ready…” Dean said with a sigh, eyeing the signs as they passed by. The tense tone and hard voice of a soldier enough for you to tell you were quickly closing in on the farmhouse in question.

“There’s supposed to be five demons in there. We’ll have to take ‘em all out fast. Try to catch them off guard,” Dean spoke over the music, echoing the earlier plan and case details. Though you didn’t mind. It was better to be prepared. Know the case inside out. Especially when you were dealing with those slimy black-eyed bastards. They tended to try and wiggle their way free if you left them even the slightest bit of breathing room.

According to the briefing, the five demons had made themselves a cosy little home in the middle of farm town USA. Happily living their best evil little lives and causing havoc wherever they went. But they weren’t big shots. So, the fight shouldn’t be too hard for three experienced hunters. In, out, find a motel for a snooze if necessary and home in time for lunch tomorrow.

“We’ll have to split up. (Y/N), I think…” Dean started, those infuriatingly striking green eyes glancing up at you through the rear-view mirror and nearly leaving you tongue-tied. Damn him and his… Gorgeous fucking bastard. You couldn’t even think straight. Dean Winchester did things to your mind; filthy, explicit, breathless things. Leaving you mentally winded and unable to string two words together with just a flash of green or a blinding smile.

Yet you somehow still managed to get the protest out before he finished his sentence. The stubbornness of a hunter tackling the wanton daydreamer in you to the floor and wrestling the not-so-innocent devil on your shoulder into submission for long enough to let you find your voice again.

“I’m not sitting this one out Winchester,” You snapped back. Allowing your annoyance to mask the way the hunter always left you winded as you shot down Dean’s attempt to keep you out of harm's way. Like he did every hunt. Disguised as you either taking on the research-, backup- or otherwise removed from action roles.

Though he always failed. You were just as unwilling to see him hurt as he was to see anyone hurt. There was no way in hell you’d be able to sit a fight out and risk the man you loved (oh so very secretly and silently mind you) get hurt because of it.

“Alright… But you’re staying behind me,” Dean sighed after a moment. Clearly sensing the fight brewing as he backed off quite easily. Plus, even the infuriatingly protective hunter had to agree that 3 against 5 were still better odds than 2 against 5. No matter how much he wanted to go in, guns blazing, alone to keep his little brother and you out of harm’s way.

“Ok, so… We’ll head in the front, while Sammy goes around back?” You clarified; happy he’d dropped the fight for once. And doubly happy since you’d be right there by his side. Able to protect him and the heart you’d silently slipped him without him noticing.

“Yeah, after, we paint some Devil’s Traps outside. Give ‘em nowhere to run,” Dean’s voice was all business again as he revved the engine, green eyes hard as you sped down the old country roads. Straightening in your own seat, you felt the adrenaline start coursing through you. It was show time, and you were planning on kicking some serious demon ass.

---

“Nice place they’ve got here…” Raising an eyebrow, you kept your eyes on the dilapidated farmhouse through the trees as you stepped out of the car, hidden just out of view from the demon hideout. Unable to stop the disgusted shudder that crawled up your spine as snapshots from some of the goriest movies you knew flashed in front of your eyes.

It looked like something from a classic horror movie. You could nearly hear the Deliverance banjo music in the background as your eyes scanned the rickety porch and rotting wood. It was the kind of place you’d normally scream at the characters on the screen to run away from. Not in fear, but in pure exasperation. After all, nothing good was ever found in old abandoned farmhouses. The demons in the one in front of you just helped prove your point.

Following Dean to the back of the car, you kept your angel blade by your side as you busied yourself stocking up on holy water and enough iron to make Tony Stark jealous. Taking extra care to ensure everything was safely strapped to your body, and that none of the ‘pointier’ weapons would end up turning on you if you took a tumble. Though you knew you’d most likely just end up sticking to good ol’ reliable and angelic in your hand. The silver white blade thumping against your thigh matched your heartbeat. Adrenaline already coursing pleasurably through your veins from the thought of the upcoming fight.

You needed action, and you needed it fast. The nearly uncomfortable buzz in your body seemed to be reacting violently to the evil in the air, culminating in an itch in your bones that nothing but gunpowder and steel could scratch. So, as you finished building your wearable arsenal of guns, knives and all things pain-inducing, you glanced over at Dean, lips parted to get the show on the road. However, Dean wasn’t moving next to you.

The gun he’d picked up first still heavy in his palm as he stood frozen, watching you. Worry making the green summer days in his eyes cloud over like a sudden midday storm. The barely hidden pain in them squeezing at your heart as you readied yourself for words you knew would come.

“You don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do Dean,” You sighed, unwilling to even let him finish his usual attempt at making you sit the hunt out. The same frustrating song and dance as always, yet you couldn’t help the way your heart followed the rhythm of it. The kind, protective streak that made the hunter ask you that same question every time you set out to fight another monster was, after all, part of why you loved him.

Always so willing to carry every burden on his own shoulders, yet hiding that small, fragile part of himself that showed how everyone’s burdens were taking their toll. Keeping his own pain, his own burdens, hidden until he was alone in the bunker. Or at least, until he thought he was alone. You’d caught him more than once. Tired green eyes squeezed shut as he rested his head in his hands, gasping for breath through the onslaught of guilt and hurt. Strong shoulders shaking with unshed tears and the weight of the blame he placed on them.

He wanted to keep you safe. Not just you, but the whole god damned world. Still, he was just one man. One soldier in a war that had been raging since the beginning of time itself and he never put down his weapon. Always ready to jump back into the fray. Even as his armour cracked, and his blade dulled. Even as he collapsed under the weight of it all.

The family business; his life since childhood had forced him to hide away his fears as weaknesses. Shaping himself into a shield instead, as he readily threw himself into harm’s way if he believed it could save someone else. Dean Winchester lived like he had a death wish, even though he feared the unknown darkness that was waiting on the other side. Always a little too ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

Never seeing that he was greater than the sum of his sins. That he was good.

Never willing to believe that the world was a better place with him in it. Though to you it was. Hell… Without him in it, the world would just be a black and white imitation of its formerly vibrant self.

Because you knew the truth that he spent every waking moment trying to hide from the greedy world that just kept demanding more of its one-man army. That behind the soldier, there was a man with a big heart and a need to be loved. A young boy who was denied a childhood. A broken big brother that always blamed himself for pulling Sammy back into the life. A friend willing to sacrifice anything just to see you smile. And, a beautiful soul, who hurt and mourned deeper than anyone else whenever you failed to save someone.

Dean Winchester was a complex man.

He wasn’t just a hunter, brother, friend or secret keeper of your heart. Dean was a heartrendingly beautiful story with untold depths, a full unexplored universe. With all the nuances and colours that painted a picture of his painful history in scars, heartbreaks and timid smiles that he felt guilty for letting slip.

A story made up of all the stifled emotions and locked in screams, that easily brought those who knew him to tears. Peppered with small verses of agonisingly fragile hope and the long forgotten innocence of a childhood he never got to have. Hidden and hard to decipher among the many self-deprecating jokes and harsh rejections, yet not lost to you as it was to many others who saw the man as unfeeling and cold. Dean just had to grow up a little faster than most, it didn’t make him a monster, it didn’t make him any less human.

And you didn’t want to add new bruised and battered sentences to that story. You never wanted to be the reason for him to ever get hurt. So, as always, you told him the same thing you’d repeated for an immeasurable number of former hunts. Speaking into the quiet air around you as you grabbed one of the spray cans from the trunk.

“We’re in this together Dean. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine. Forever,”

---

Straightening back up with a stifled groan you admired your work.

If all else failed and hunting didn’t work out, maybe you could turn to street art. The Devil’s Trap was expertly painted, if you’d say so yourself. Which you did. Albeit silently and in your own head, as to not alert the demons in the farmhouse to the right of you.

The trap you’d been assigned was the closest to the Impala, another attempt from Dean at keeping you safe. Yet, it was also the most likely escape route if the demons turned cowards and tried to run for the hills.

The sliding door just a few steps away to your right was not a planned entry point. So, they’d be most likely to try and use it to scutter away like the scared little black-eyed rats they were if it came down to that. So, your work had to be perfect. Allowing yourself just one more careful look over the symbols, you stepped back. Turning on light feet to carefully, and silently, re-join Dean by the front door.

The worry in green eyes had once more been replaced by steely determination once you made it back to the front of the farmhouse. Squaring his jaw, he watched you quietly jog up to him before just as soundlessly signalling for Sam to start moving towards the back door with a raised hand and to fingers pointed down the path around the house. His own eyes moving to lock onto the front door, weapon at the ready while he relayed the wordless orders. Missing the small nod from Sam as the younger hunter stayed crouched and quiet, moving before Dean’s hand even had time to straighten out and silently relay his next orders.

Lifting his hand to you, you frowned at the straight palm facing you. He was asking you to wait outside for his signal. To let him walk in through the front door first and act like your shield in case something went wrong.

Looking at him you gritted your teeth to keep the angry whisper at bay. Gripping your angel blade a little harder, you chose to instead just silently shake your head at him in protest. Catching his eye as he glanced away from the door to make sure you caught the order you tried to silently plead with him. But this time he wasn’t backing down.

His own wordless reply was just a repeat of the single hand gesture that was supposed to be your command and role in the coming battle. Green eyes leaving yours to cut off every silent argument you had as he kept his shoulders tense and jaw squared.

Your stubborn hunter wasn’t going to let you argue this time as he slowly but surely started moving forward, towards the door. Leaving you standing in the gravel, fuming silently.

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Make your choice below to move the story along:

What do you do?

[Follow him in] or [Wait outside]

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Confused or New to Choices? Start Here Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where you pick your Winchester brother and go on a hunt for one of 8 different endings in total. Four for Sam and four for Dean (2 happy and 2 bad endings per brother). Go to the intro to start your story!

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