#i can just hear the smiths playing in this scene

[papa-evershed]

Rob James-Collier || The Attendant

[wilwheaton]

I have a small part in the 1987 television movie (failed pilot) version of The Man Who Fell To Earth. Lewis Smith played the titular character. Beverly D'Angelo played my mom, his love interest. (Fun Star Trek connection: Bob Picardo is also in it).

My character was a Troubled Youth, which I gotta tell you was not a stretch for me at all. I was deeply, deeply hurting at the time we made it. I was struggling not to suffocate on all the emotional and financial burdens my mom put on my shoulders, and fully aware of just how much my dad hated and resented me. You need a kid who doesn't want to be an actor, whose eyes can't hide the pain? I'm your guy.

Anyway, one of the scenes I was in took place in a record store, where Troubled Youth steals some albums, before he is chased by the cops and saved by the Man Who Fell To Earth, who uses a glowing crystal to save his life from ... some scratches on his face.

We filmed the interior of the record store at Sunset and La Brea, in what I think was a Warehouse, and at the end of the day, I was allowed to buy some records at a modest discount.

I was deep into my metal years, on my way from my punk years to my New Wave years, so I only bought metal albums. I know I bought more than I needed or could carry (I was making a point that I was allowed to spend my own money, mom), but the only ones I can clearly remember are:

Iron Maiden - Piece of Mind

Judas Priest - Turbo and Defenders of the Faith

W.A.S.P - The Last Command

(I know this was in March of 1987, because Turbo had just come out.)

Of those, Piece of Mind is the only one I never really stopped listening to, even through all the different it's-not-a-phase phases. I still listen to it, today.

Ever since I became an Adult with a Fancy Adult Record Player And All That Bullshit, I have kept my records in two places: stuff I want right now, and stuff I keep in the library because of Reasons.

Generally, records move in one direction toward the library, even if it takes years to happen. I just don't accumulate albums like I once did, because I'm Old and set in my ways.

Earlier today, I decided that I wanted to listen to an album while I cleaned up the kitchen, and because I wanted to make my life more interesting, I opened the library cabinet for the first time in at least five years.

There was the very same W.A.S.P album from that day in March, 1987. I don't have any of the others -- I looked -- but The Last Command was right there.

Before I really knew what I was doing, I put it on the Fancy Adult Record Player and dropped the needle.

I watched four decades of dust build up with a satisfying crackle, and there was something magical and beautiful about hearing all the skips and the scratches, realizing I remembered them from before.

The title track was just as great as I remembered it. It struck all the same chords in me that it did in the late nineteen hundreds. The rest of the first side was ... um. It just didn't connect with me, and for the few moments I spent trying to find a connection, I don't think it ever really did. I would remember.

But I did remember how much I loved making those mix tapes, and what a big part of them that song was. I did remember how empowering it felt to not just spend my own money that I earned doing work I didn't want to do, but to spend it on music my parents hated, right under their noses. I did remember how impressed Robby Lee was, when I showed him my extensive heavy metal album collection.

Remembering all of that, in one of those cinematic flashes of rapid cut visuals and sped up sounds, told me why I kept this record, while I gradually sold or replaced the other records I bought that day with CDs, then mp3s, then lossless digital files, before finally coming all the way back to records, where I started.

I didn't listen to the second side. I didn't need to. I took it off the Fancy Adult Record Player, and put it back into the library, next to the George Carlin records.

[kth1fics]

Lucky, Lucky Girl (M) | JJK

Lucky, Lucky Girl

⟶ Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader ⟶ Genre: Roommates AU, Smut, 18+ ⟶ WC: 6.1k+ ⟶ Warnings: pwp, implied drunken state, alcohol, implied situationship, neck kisses, oral (m), making-out, choking, clit pinched once, fingering (f), finger sucking (f & m), palming (m), brief unprotected sex, etc ⟶ Beta: @jeonjcngkook​ // thank you so much for dealing with my massive short time frames :( i love you, sav ⟶ Summary: The joy of Jungkook having a grand ol’ time with his own personal karaoke night causes you, his roommate, to grow more and more annoyed. ⟶ Author’s Note: Mmm, yeah. Jungkook’s back to back Weverse lives – how ‘bout that? ⟶ Song Recommendation: Unholy ft Kim Petras by Sam Smith

Masterlist ◈ Mail Box ◈ AO3 ◈ Ko-Fi

“Dirty, dirty boy!”

“Not again…” you sigh. Blinking stunned as your head rests against the fluff of your pillow.

“You know everyone is talking on the scene!”

You try not to listen intently. But with the dead of the night, where no sounds are supposed to be made, you cannot help but hear every single breathy note your roommate sings. Voice amplified with the help of an expensive karaoke microphone, synced with the slight off-tune beats that play on the device in the living room.

“I hear them whispering ‘bout the places that you’ve been!”

Your brows furrow with remorse as your hands come to clamp over your ears. Why had you thought many moons ago that buying him this damn machine would be such a lovely gift? You thought he could never do such a thing like this. Singing hours on end into the middle of the night, by himself, was never a thought that crossed your mind when you purchased your roommate a wireless karaoke machine for his birthday.

Tonight is the first time you truly regret your choice of gift giving.

“And how you don’t know how to keep your business clean!”

“Jungkook!” You shout out in agony. Hoping the man hears you through the walls of your shared apartment complex. Belching out a stern yell should surely remind him of your earlier request. “I told you two hours ago to keep it down!”

To your own judgment, you realize that Jungkook either must have not heard you or chooses to ignore you as his voice continues to sing the pop-ish, R&B song Unholy.

“Mummy don’t know –”

“Jungkook, I swear to God!” 

You stand up from your bed, tossing your blankets and pillows elsewhere as you stomp toward your closed door with haste. The twist of the knob is loud as your anger seeps into your actions, the swing of your door is just as abrupt. Your feet take you directly to the living room, padding down the hallway until blinking lights from the television shine in your eyes. Empty beer cans decorate the coffee table, some even knocked over and most definitely leaving stains on the wooden top. A bowl of snacks rests nearly untouched, but the ceramic maroon plate does have leftover crumbs of a breaded food.

Jungkook is found lounging back into the couch, microphone dangling above his head as he sings into it. Black luscious and fluffy locks, that barely touch shoulder length, fall beautifully with the way his head tilts onto the back of the couch. Dark clothes suit him best, probably because you’ve hardly ever seen him wear any other shade. You can tell just by the choice of shirt and long pants that he’s done nothing but wear the most comfortable attire for his karaoke night.

His eyes must be tired considering he wears his glasses, but underneath you can see how his eyes remain close as he gushes the lyrics like it’s his job. Knowing them word for word and with the perfect tone and tune.

“Two hours!” You yell, making your position in the living room more noticeable. You stand between the television and him, anger fuming within you. Steam could fly out your ears if that were possible. “Two damn hours and you’re still singing!”

You’re matched with a puzzled look when Jungkook finally opens his eyes. He peers down between the glass of his eyewear, trying to understand if you’re really in front of him or if he’s imagining it. The song continues to play as Jungkook lacks reciting the rest of the lyrics, you’re not sure if you could handle hearing him sing it for a third time this evening.

“What?” His lips pout as his nose scrunches and you wish to wipe the undeniable cuteness from it. He knows he can get away with such a gesture. “What happened?”

“I asked you two hours ago,” you sigh, stress pouring off of your face. He’s taken your sleep and little bit of patience left of your day. You can physically feel yourself building up to explode completely. “Please, stop it. Or at least do something else. Less noisy, preferably.” 

Jungkook does nothing but smirk. The microphone falls from his hand to the cushion of the couch as he leans up in a better seating position, but chooses to bob his head to the beat of the song. Moving his arms just like how the dance goes in the music video. He mumbles the lyrics to himself as the song is finishing up, dragging his pointer finger down from his forehead to his lips as he purposely, and most definitely, taunts you with his absence of attention. Preferring to rock out to the rest of the song, on his own agenda as he turns a deaf ear to you once more. There’s no way he is completely obliterated right now, you’ve seen that side of him more than once – he’s a complete mess when it happens. But here, right now, you know Jungkook is drunkenly tilting on a tipsy seesaw. Well aware of his actions.

“Are you serious?”

He bellows a laugh, eyes crinkling in the corners with happiness as he feeds off of your agitated energy. “I’m bored. This is entertaining me,” he points to the television and microphone. “I’m quite good at it.”

“Jungkook, it’s been hours,” you drawl as you feel the emotions of your anger prick at your eyes. Your chest rises and falls with a heavy exhale, if only he could comprehend how fatigued you are. “You’re lucky we don’t have neighbors because the police would have been knocking on our front door by now.”

“Come and join me,” he insists as he reaches for a thick glass. It’s the one he keeps in the freezer; the mechanism inside the walls of the cup keeps the liquid it holds cold for longer. “I have a whole other pack in the fridge or there’s liquor in the cupboard if you prefer that instead.”

“No!” You scoff, “That’s not what I want. How are you so awake right now?”

Jungkook raises his beer with an expectant look to his face, raising an eyebrow for you to catch the hint. “Alcohol keeps me up longer,” he says with a gleaming smile. “How are you ‘so awake’?” He parrots your words before he takes a large sip of his chilled beer. Enjoying the taste that rolls across his tongue and down his throat.

“You!” you exhale with a growl. A warning if anything. The word comes off like acid, meant to burn and brand the man sitting in front of you.

It doesn’t phase him how you wish it could. Your roommate just sits there minding his own business as he grabs the remote to shuffle through the next list of songs. Seeking to add another reason that will make you even more mad.

“Rainism? Do I Wanna Know? How about some Bieber?”

Even with your body covering up a portion of the screen, he still manages to know the layout and how to direct the cursor around. You can hear the annoying dings of movement as he flicks through the options, the soft sounds escalating louder the more you concentrate and focus on them. Giving those noises more energy than they originate. Just like how one watches a clock tick it's seconds away and the clicking snaps closer to an unavoidable thunderous tone.

With all your vexation boiling, your irritation allows you to act impulsively. Your fingers find the on/off switch to the television immediately, clicking it off to a blank screen. Jungkook scrambles to find the correct remote device to turn it back on, but you’re quicker than that. Smarter than that. To stop any further attempts, you even go all the way to unplugging the devices from the outlet directly attached to the wall.

“Y/n!” Jungkook whines. He exaggerates further with a click of his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

“No!” You cut him off, “I have had enough.”

You stand your ground. This is a shared apartment after all but Jungkook should respect the decency of a good night's rest. Just because he didn’t have a day like you did doesn’t mean he forgets to consider how you may feel with his actions. Usually he’s very good, half the time he’s always out with friends or work. So an occurrence like this is far beyond rare. But you can’t excuse him for spending hours into the dead of night keeping it alive with loud music and his melodic voice.

Just as you feel like you’ve once, the taste of victory on the tip of your tongue, you immediately pull back when you see Jungkook stand from the couch. The gesture isn’t casual, it’s fast. Like lightning, he has jolted from his place and speeds toward you.

To catch you and trap you.

“Come here!” He shouts behind you with a giggle as he chases you back down the hall. You race toward your room, hoping to shut him out quickly. 

You’ve stirred the pot by cutting his fun short and you should know Jungkook sees your anger as cute. But there is no time for foolish playful antics. You desperately want to rest, knock out and sleep in.

“Go to bed!” You shout over your shoulder. When your eyes catch a glance of how close he’s gotten to you, the strike of panic screams throughout your entire body. Even a yelp escapes your throat involuntarily.

His hand grips on the back of your shirt just as he pulls you like a fish on a wire. It’s quick, but somehow Jungkook manages to yank you straight into his hard frame before he pins you against the hallway wall. Right next to your bedroom door.

“Ow!” You hurt from the way one of your elbows bangs against the drywall behind you. You push back on Jungkook’s hands, fighting his dominance as he attempts to hold your arms back. 

Unconsciously, Jungkook leans in with each word he speaks, smiling to himself as his teeth snag onto the lip ring adorning his right bottom lip. “I’m not sorry.” Something switches within him. Eyes now peering down at your parted lips, two desirable colored pieces of flesh, he blinks silently with no other words. Jungkook finds himself stuck staring at them, how they’re parted so pretty by the gasp that leaves your lips. 

You can feel the radiation of his heated gaze; a burning sensation that you cannot tell is fueled by rage or something else. The sudden fiery ambiance Jungkook’s body and demeanor gives off is enough to set a forest ablaze. Smothering, scorching. The intensity of his concentrated stare heats you up from within, a prickling spark that shouldn’t be tampered with. 

“J-Jungkook?” You blink, heartbeat running laps in your chest. Your mind runs rampage like gazelles in the wild. Expanding to new, dangerous horizons. “This is bad.” The hairs on the back of your neck stand tall as a shiver runs down the base of your spine.

“Why does bad sound so good?” His warm breath fans over your ear, forcing goosebumps to dance across your skin. Jungkook slides himself closer, confessing his body to feel something more as he slithers his arms around your back as he presses you against the wall. “Can you explain that?”

“Jungkook, you’re drunk.” You try to reason with him. Maybe he isn’t in his right state of mind. You recall the lingering beer cans in the living room, surely he’s been the only one drinking them. 

Or are you trying to reason with yourself?

You’re really trying to not take advantage of this situation – one you didn’t foresee yourself getting into. Because you honestly just wished for peace and quiet. This happens only once in a while. Something neither one of you are proud about. There’s been talks, endless rambling and a vicious cycle of repetitive excuses. It’s not wise to ‘fuck around and find out’ with a roommate who need to hold their own, pay for their own expenses and be responsible. If someone gets too comfortable… they could be caught slipping. Forgetting all of these rules and abusing the privilege of the other to take care of them. 

Neither one of you want that. The two of you are far too comfortable being sturdy with your own ‘singleness’. The idea of stripping that freedom from you makes you cringe.

But you cannot deny that ready feeling, random spark of desire, whenever Jungkook gives you that certain look. Perhaps it’s because you have tasted what he offers. How it still can creep up and remind you how delicious he is when you’re craving that flavor.

“I’m not drunk. I'm loose. There’s a difference.” Huffing a laugh, he tickles the shell of your ear with his breath. “If you want me to go to bed so badly, bring me to yours.” Jungkook’s nose nudges along the length of your neck, drinking in the faint smell of you. “I can’t promise I’ll stay quiet though.”

His hands are warm as you feel them press against your back, hugging you tight against him. You gulp as memories flash across your brain like an old film reel. Only the best moments blasting loud in your mind, reminding you of times before. How it felt. How he is with you.

Your hands balled into fists with your temptations playing in the front of your mind. All thoughts, rational or not, dissipate as you feel the slightest touch of Jungkook’s lips stoking the skin of your neck, skimming over the areas that make you swoon. You can’t blame the tiredness you once felt now diminish and grow with glimmers of excitement. Burning like a wick.

“We can’t do this again,” you remind him as your voice falters to a mouse-like whisper.

“So this will be the last time,” Jungkook grinds his pelvis into you, pulling you against him in the same motion. You feel it, the evidence of his cock hardened and ready to press into you. “We can fuck around one more time,” he kisses your neck with delicacy, “And we’ll never have to talk about it again.”

“Was this your plan all along?” You push your chest into him for emphasis. “Annoy me so you could do this?”

“Hasn’t it always been like this?” He chuckles with his deep voice seeping out. “I’m a lot to handle and you get fed up with it. In return I shut you up.”

Jungkook doesn’t hesitate with his next move, slotting his leg between yours as he pins you against the wall. He latches his mouth onto your neck as his hands roam your body, squeezing every muscle and curve he can reach. He releases one of your hands in favor of raising one of your legs around his waist, using the angle to pin you even more.

You move quickly with the freedom of your one limb, running your hand straight to the back of Jungkook’s black thick hair and gripping a fist full. “You’re so obnoxious,” you squeal as he retaliates with a bite to your neck. Teeth nipping harder than you expect, drawing soreness to the spot the moment he releases your skin.  

He leans his head back enough to look at your face, a smug grin dressing his face as his fringe hides his glasses that protect his eyes. Jungkook doesn’t look into your eyes, he’s already mapping out his plan of assault with his mouth as he leers at your lips again. He pulls your leg higher as he moves in, hungrily kissing you with deep passion and thirst. You pull him equally with the back of his neck, yanking him forward to battle his tongue with yours.

An audible growl rumbles through Jungkook’s chest. Euphoric exhilarations trickle all over your skin. Jungkook’s reckless need to touch every inch of you sets a subtle ache in your core, growing it each passing second. Kisses become rougher, more desperate, as you share air between another. His touch burns you in the most errotic way, but you’ll never admit that to his face.

Jungkook continues to pull your leg into him just so he can angle his pelvis into you, prodding his clothed covered cock between the junction of your thighs. Teasing a blissful promise to you, letting you know how he wants to dive right into your walls and stretch you open. Your hand rummages through his roots, your other still pinned against the wall with Jungkook’s.

“Bed,” he murmurs against your wet lips. 

He sucks on your tongue before letting his teeth scrap softly against it as he pulls back. His body with yours, you two fumble through your bedroom doorway and land straight onto your mattress. 

You’re not normally stripping off your clothes this fast, but with Jungkook it’s different. Everything is impulsive and needy. There are no thoughts, only consequences and actions. The darkness shrouds the two of you, giving you more courage to do things without thought. Whereas Jungkook has already got a bit of liquid courage yet he is very self-aware of what he’s doing right now. You pull Jungkook down with you, a new instinct – a drive – taking hold of you.

His knees dig into the bed as Jungkook lifts his shirt over and off his body after removing yours. Jungkook’s muscles flex over another in the motion of his arms pulling the material up, revealing more of his toned, tanned, and inked skin to your eyes. A sight you secretly miss seeing. His body is just as you remembered; well-defined pectorals, large bulking biceps, a rippling line of tight abdominal muscles that tighten over his stomach, even the deadly outline of a v-line dipping dangerously below the hem of his pants.

It takes you a moment to recollect yourself from gawking at him. Eyes wide like saucers, trying to etch every single detail of his body so you can think of him later when you’re left with just a battery operated toy between your legs. Numberless lines of art, mainly black but some pretty colors too, decorate the entire expanse of his right arm. Shoulder all the way to the digits of his hand. His physique is well-kept, you know this man must take care of himself. Each edge, each angle of his compliments Jungkook perfectly. You couldn’t imagine him any different. 

Jungkook catches your eyes, implicitly feeding into his ego. He smirks that annoying, nearly cocky, smile that flashes his white teeth as his dark locks dangle in front of his face. He disposes his glasses to a nearby table, out of the way of any reckless behavior.

His eyes roam your figure, areas of skin he wants to touch and violate if you give him the chance.

“You’re right, you know.” You hear him mumble as his hands aimlessly glide across your front, running themselves over your chest before they cup each of your breasts. He experiments with the tender flesh of your tits, squeezing and releasing them with his control. “This is bad. It’s dangerous how much I think about fucking you. Then you let me do it,” he laughs. His tattooed arm raises as his hand runs through his hair, fingering the dark strands and curling a few behind his ear. 

He drags his other hand down his front, making sure you watch each tentative movement as he runs his fingers over his body in front of you. They tantalize you, spellbind you into watching every second as he descends down to his lower region. Cuffing his bulge over the loose dark material of his pants and applying pressure to relieve some tension. He grips the sides of his cock, outlining the length as he runs the length of his shaft.

Jungkook’s tongue swipes out to lick his lips before sucking the bottom one in, snagging that sexy lip ring in between his teeth as he softly jerks himself through his clothes. His eyes, hooded and laced with dangerous lust, stare down at yours. The most subtle, audible, groan escapes through his teeth and you swear you lost every last ounce of sanity you have left for the night. Your cunt clenches with eagerness as the sound, as whiny and beautiful it sounds coming from him, hits your core like a train on impact. What you would do for more of those sounds…

Jungkook repeats the process right in front of your very eyes, gradually fisting himself even more until he can’t handle it much more himself. 

“Holy shit –” you speak breathlessly. Unable to fathom the scene being played out. You lean up with a surge, a power within you of wanting to please this man. Hands gripping the sides of his dainty waist, right where his hip bones poke out, and you run your nails over them in your pursuit to free his cock. “Get naked too,” you command as you hook your fingers around his waistband. 

Your fervor is impressive, making you feel like you’re doing justice while you’re truly doing something unholy. You drag his pants down his thighs, watching the way his cock springs out with happiness. The shine over his dripping cockhead welcomes you, affirms to you how stressed it must be to be touched by you. Aching to be pleased. His girth always makes you coyly smile; he radiates such energy, of course he has a package to match it. 

Jungkook is solid, cock pulsing by your touch. Just palming him alone makes your core tighten, makes the dirty mind of yours wander further into the abyss of sultry. You can feel yourself leaking arousal on yourself.

“You gonna put those pretty lips around me?” You feel the way Jungkook’s fingers curl around your jaw to tilt your head toward him. His thumb runs across your lips, slowly slotting itself between them and pushing past your teeth. 

With pleading eyes, you blink and nod at him. You suck on his thumb to show him what he has to look forward to, what you’re about to give him. You’re ready to do whatever it takes to make this man moan.

Your fist grips Jungkook’s dick, cautiously squeezing him as you flick your wrist up and down. Moving your body, you level your head to his pelvis after his release of your jaw. You bend your back as sexy as you imagine it can look as you keep your ass hoisted high. Leaning in, you plant a sweet kiss to his swollen tip, tasting the first moments of his salty secretions. It’s the first indication of Jungkook losing his breath as you hear a shuttered exhale.

You need more.

Your tongue lavished over the slit of his cockhead, parting the small piece to lap up every piece of precum that dares to drip carelessly from him.

“Fuck,” you hear the narrow whisper from above. His nose blows out a puff of hot air.

You ease your head down, immersing yourself on his rock hard cock. Tasting the flavor of his skin on your tongue as you wet the entire length with your saliva. Your lips tighten around him as you dip your head, bopping it down and up teasingly, wanting to taste every desirable inch of his blessed cock. You swivel and twist your tongue underneath as you suck, hard. Taking initiative to stroke what you can’t fit comfortably… for now.

“Fuck, Y/n!” Jungkook groans with an open mouth. Jaw slacking as his hips softly roll with the pace you set. You feel his hand skirt around your head, pulling pieces of your hair so he can view the way your cheeks hollow around him. “Fuck, yes. Just like that,” he hums with a tender whine. “You do it so fuckin’ well.”

Jungkook continues to whisper praises as his hips beg to thrust harder. Words of motivation help carry you to continue bobbing your head along his shaft, wanting him in deeper. So far enough to take your breath completely away from you. Your muffle moans vibrate on his cock, you can feel it twitch from time to time. 

“Yeah, yeah…” 

And now you hear Jungkook’s voice transition from his normal tone to that melodic tune. The one where you can hear it laced in whenever he sings his heart out. The noise you hear nearly all night long, agonizing you that it isn’t you who got those noises out from him. Until now. Where you suck harder, dip deeper to let his cock slot into your throat and stuff your mouth.

You fight all urges to gag, using every fiber in you to accept his length further past your comfort point. Pressing your nose against the soft plush of his public hairs as you melt into his pelvis, cock sliding as far as it can go into your esophagus.

Jungkook whines with satisfaction. Seeing how cock-hungry you are for him while this overwhelming pleasure sparks every heated nerve ending in his body. “You feel so fucking good,” his breath sounds labored. His fingers find a hold on the back of your head, clutching your hair tightly as he loses composure for a moment to thrust his hips into you.

“Mmf!” You resound a noise that only sounds dirty to him. Bear resemblance to a well pleased cockslut who wants nothing else but his dick. So he repeats the process again, and again… and again. Just to pull out those tasty groans as your nose is crammed against him and mouth prying wider to eat his cock.

Your eyes water at the onslaught, threatening to break past the brims of your eyes. Throat becomes coarse, abused with the intrusion that continues to batter your mouth. It’s relentless, but both you and Jungkook are hooked on the feelings you’re receiving from such an act. A single string of saliva connects your mouth to his throbbing cock when he abruptly pulls you from him, twisting your head to see how fucked-out your face looks.

It’s when you’re able to look up at him as well, seeing the way his brows furrowed as he pays close attention to you. Cheeks moving with the huffs of air he releases from his mouth. Beautiful large brown eyes taken over by his blown out pupils. The hair that hangs off his head makes you want to pull, rake your nails through and comb them. Fist it and twist it.

“Flip over,” he requests while already pulling you with him. His hands manhandle you respectfully, letting your body to turn around and rest on all fours. “So wet already,” he comments as his palms spread open your asschecks, giving him the view of everything from between your cheeks to your gorgeous pussy lips. The sheen of your arousal already slips past your vulva and dresses your inner thighs. “So pretty,” Jungkook collects some with two of his fingers, rolling the slippery mess between his digits before letting the tip of his tongue taste it. “So tasty.”

You edge your ass closer to him as he ghosts his fingers between your thighs. Slide them along the expanse of them before touching your soaked lips.

“Want you to fuck me,” you bend forward, placing your head against the mattress as your arms stretch above you to anchor yourself in place. “I warmed you up good enough. I want you to put that cock in me,” you wiggle your ass in his view. “I’m ready for you, Jungkook. Don’t you see that?” 

He breathlessly laughs, astonished how easy it is for you to be so confident. So prepared to have Jungkook do what he wants. He glides his index finger though your folds, spreading your slickness across all surfaces before hovering over your entrance. Sliding that same finger in, he instantly curls it up against the ridge wall that hides your sensitive spot.

A mewl rips from your throat but you bury your mouth into your blankets below you. You feel the way your pussy eats up Jungkook’s finger, you can’t imagine how it’ll be when he sticks his cock in. Your body wants to lean back more, feel how deep his finger could go if he allows it. But Jungkook denies you that pleasure by pulling away.

“God, I want to fuck you so bad right now. I don’t care to tease right now.”

Static courses though the atmosphere. Your bedroom which serves as a resting comfort place now feels like inside an oven, heated and blazing with lustful passion. 

This is exactly what Jungkook wants. Did he expect his plan to work completely? Absolutely not. Countless times he purposely does things just to get a reaction out of you, to see if you give him that energy. Just to mess with you. 

Does that always lead to this? No. 

Has it happened before though? Yes.

Jungkook maneuvers himself enough to skim his dick along the folds of your sopping pussy. Slowly dipping his tip into the gates of your entrance, easing it in little by little. You feel your legs widen further as he stretches you, until you’re biting back your words. Jungkook hardly submerges his cockhead before you jump up, twisting away from him with a frantic hand out.

“Whoah, wait!” You don’t notice the way your fingers shake with adrenaline as you stare at Jungkook in shock. “We need a condom!”

You could kick yourself for being so stupid, drunk on a lust haze and barely forgetting the fact you always stay protected. Never wanting an accident to happen with anyone who comes between your legs. Even Jungkook.

You’re stunned momentarily as you drink in the sight of Jungkook kneeling behind you. His hand holding the base of his cock as he holds it angled for your pussy while the other grips your hip. His abdomen tightening from the anticipation while his biceps flex as he holds back his body. Lazily, his eyes meet yours after staring down at your ass in a trance for far too long. A pout follows his frown until he catches how deep in thought he's in. Not realizing how hot and heavy the two of you acted.

“Shit, yeah. Do you have one here?”

You nod, reaching for a box under your bed quickly to pull out a small box of condoms. Jungkook happily takes one from your hand, tearing into the foil quickly and applying the rubber over his cock. He pinches the tip after slinking the condom down his shaft, pulling the elastic slightly to make it more comfortable for his member.

He glances at you, flashing you a bright smile that’s hidden with mischief. He grabs hold of your hips again and pulls you back to him, forcing you back down in an arch once again and prepares himself behind you.

“The condom just makes me fuck you harder,” he alerts as he’s pressing into you. His cockhead slips through your lips and begins dragging against your walls. A throaty groan erupts from your throat, entangled by pure blissful pleasure as Jungkook spears you open. “Makes me last longer.”

“Good,” you bark back with a smile only you can tell you wear. Your face shoves itself into your blankets as you feel Jungkook fill you up, rocking into you as you buck your hips back. His girth stretches you out in the most rewarding ways possible, making that slight stinging pain feel glorious and well deserving. “Fuck me hard then.”

Jungkook’s head swims with all the carnal desire built up. Once his other hand grips the other side of your hips you are done for. His grip is tight, desperate to keep hold of you as you squirm with his new pace. He thrusts into you, reeling you back into him with each swift movement of his hips. Sinking his cock as deep into your pussy as possible, drawing out those delicious squelching noises.

His strides speed up as the sounds of skin slapping skin gets louder. It twists your insides in a good way. Gaining a praising squeal from you as a burning coil in your abdomen tightens dangerously. Jungkook ravages his advantage on you, mounting you from behind and having ultimate control of your body. His cock slips out from the warm wetness of your cunt only to fill it aggressively back up.

Your nails pull at the blankets under you as your teeth bite into your bottom lip, breaking the plush skin. 

“Ah! Yes!” You moan, pussy throbbing with excitement as Jungkook pushes you closer to a release. “Fuck – Harder!”

You beg him to rail you more. Want to feel the way he pushes you over the edge. Jungkook’s chest heaves with labor, his voice turns more whiney and groany.

Calloused and tattooed fingers snake their way up your back to your neck, slipping them around the front and hoisting you up. Jungkook drags you against him, forcing your body upright as his hips continue to slap into your backside. The angle creates new bliss, prodding harshly against a sensitive area of your walls. Steadily, Jungkook hardens his grip around your neck. Applying pressure to limit your breath.

“Aren’t you lucky?” Jungkook embeds his head in the crook of your neck, mouth sucking sharply on your skin. He lets out vocal grunts as he continues to slam into you while his other hand seeks your front. Slipping down between your thighs to toy and rub circles against your engorged clit. “Getting fucked so hard, you’ll have no problem sleeping after this.”

Your moan rings through Jungkook’s ears as your cunt spasms and convulses around his spearing cock. His new position sends you into a frenzy. Orgasm after orgasm hits you, exploding within your heated body as Jungkook’s fingers and cock ruthlessly abuse your pussy. You cry with joy, a shaky breath whispering his name like a mantra as you gasp for air.

Jungkook continues to roll his hips into you from behind, pushing you past the point of your initial release and sending you into overdrive. He pinches your clit to hear you shriek, charging his ego and exciting his senses. He’s cruel, really, to latch his teeth onto your neck as grunted breaths escape his nose as he forces himself in you. But it’s so undeniably hot as he does it.

It pushes Jungkook toward his release, cracking down his walls and busting open the floodgates as he shoots warm, white cum into the tip of his condom. Cock nudged all the way in your pussy walls as he stills, groaning with words of how good you feel around him. Your panting bodies freeze together; still kneeling and heaving like you’ve run a marathon.

Your pussy convulses as aftershocks of your orgasm vibrates around Jungkook’s lodged cock, flexing and unflexing until he slowly pulls out of you. You miss it, the feeling of him filling your walls. Now they’re left bare, empty with nothing touching them.

You want to rest your body against his, but you know you can’t. It’s not a good decision to do more damage than what has already been caused. Maybe it’s the tenderness of your beating heart that still swarms with warmth after intimacy. Although you must always shake those feelings especially when it comes to your roommate. Who has nothing to do with you on a relationship level. And only once in a while the two of you slip up and fuck your frustrations out.

Jungkook moves first which surprises you. His lean figure has no problem pushing you back down to the bed after removing both his hands from you. He flops beside you and focuses on pulling off the condom from his softening cock without spilling its contents. He ties a knot at the opening before dropping it to the floor, not caring where exactly it lands.

The bed feels plush and heavenly against your face. The cool of your blankets chill you off yet welcome you with open arms. You stare at Jungkook as your heartbeat fails to relax. Portions of his bangs stick to his forehead from the sheen of sweat that decorates it. He breathes in the cool air with his eyes closed, catching his breath as he levels his body.

“We can’t do this again,” you remind him. Slumber knocks at your front door, reminding you how tired you are. “It’ll cause problems.”

“It’s already a problem,” he groans. He doesn’t bother looking at the scowl on your face. He knows it’s there. “It’s an addictive problem.”

Aimlessly, Jungkook reaches for a portion of the blanket from under him. He brings it over him enough to tuck himself comfortably in your bed. You even fight over it with him, telling him to go to his own bed if he’s tired. Though, he doesn’t listen. He’s selective once again. Knowing that he can get away with getting under your skin. Enjoying the way you get agitated how all he needs to do is wrap his arm around your body, filling you with his warm embrace – and you cave in. 

Moodboard credit: @kth1​

© 2023 All rights reserved under @kth1​ - do not copy, repost, modify, edit, or translate any of my work without my direct consent. This TUMBLR and AO3 are the ONLY places my fics are posted.

[jtl-fics]

In honor of April Fools day I will talk a bit about an AU with my favorite fool - (Redacted) Smith that I will probably never write fully but have thought about a bunch of scenes for.

I call it 2 Fluent Freshmen.

Due to a clerical error at both the school and during the local government's push to digitize their documents Smith is noted down as being 2 years older than he actually is and (perhaps a clerical error or maybe no teacher can say if they've had him in class or not) Smith also has enough credits to graduate. Gran has passed away early and there's nothing for him in Washington other than more anxiety.

Wymack & Dan come to Smith when he is 16 and Smith takes the chance to escape from his family IMMEDIATELY. Sure the Foxes are the worst team and sure there's some drama going on with Kevin Day having joined them after his injury but a full ride scholarship is a full ride scholarship!

Smith is rooming with 2 upperclassmen and his only other fellow freshman - Neil Josten. He is not hiding the fact that he can speak Russian, he is hiding the fact that he is 16. Smith ends up pretty close to Seth and Allison due to sharing a dorm / position respectively and just doing his best not to get to close to crazy Andrew Minyard. He does get a bit close with Neil but it's not something he's trying to do.

He's trying to keep his head down and get through the year.

It's a little hard when he is sat on the couch with the Kathy Ferdinand show. It's a lot harder when Riko Moriyama shows up and doesn't realize he's there and just...sits in Smith's lap?? Smith remains as blank faced as ever and what the fuck is Riko supposed to do? ADMIT HE FUCKED UP?

Do you know how hard it is to intimidate someone when you're sitting in the lap of some dude? The answer is VERY. Kevin can't take him seriously at all, especially after Smith made a comment that Riko's ass was bony.

Riko goes after them the same but Smith doesn't really get that his anger is at Kevin. "Hey, I'm sorry I called your butt bony on national television. That was rude of me. You should try some squats though." and like what the fuck is Riko supposed to say in the face of some dude genuinely apologizing to him.

It buys enough time that no one is grabbed or slammed.

Seth and Allison drag him out to the bar that night and after a few minutes sitting with Allison Smith realizes that he actually does have to pee and oh god someone's trying to assault Seth! Smith calls upon the powers of Gracie Hart and Seth has a black eye and a concussion but he graduates.

Neil wants Smith to come with him to the Thanksgiving because Neil has latched on a bit. Smith ends up going and also ends up going upstairs to go to the bathroom because oh god he cannot handle Nicky's parents hearing him take an anxiety shit. He's making his way to the end of the hall and sees a penny on the ground so he bends over to grab it.

And Drake Spears is unbalanced from missing his swing and falls right out the open window to the ground below where he breaks his neck. Naturally, Andrew is watching this scene unfold from the stairs and just starts to laugh his ass off. Smith turns around after flipping the penny over (it was tails side up and therefore not lucky) unaware of what has happened.

Smith asks if Andrew wants to use the bathroom. Andrew insists that Smith goes on ahead. The Hemmicks keep asking if they saw anyone upstairs and Smith has no idea what they're talking about, Andrew does but plays dumb out of spite. A day later it's wild that Nicky's parents got arrested. Like they seemed so normal, how did they kill someone and dump him in the side garden??

The Winter Banquet happens and well...it's dark. It's dark and Neil has brown hair and brown eyes and Smith has brown hair and brown eyes. Riko is not the best at judging heights so he calls Smith to threaten him and tell him that he's joining the Ravens for a Winter Break training camp. Jean is doing the most anyone has ever done not to laugh right now.

Riko only realizes his mistake when he's finished threatening Smith with his father and Smith ruins it. Smith is elated to have somewhere to stay over winter break. He can't mention he has nowhere to go so he'd thought he'd spend the break homeless. Now here comes Riko Moriyama inviting him to a camp where room and board will be provided?

What a nice guy. To thank him Smith compliments the gains he's noticed on Riko's ass. "The squats are really helping you, or are you doing something else?" he asks.

What the fuck is Riko supposed to do? ADMIT THAT HE FUCKED UP? Tell Smith that he's been doing squats and leg lifts before asking that he hand the tickets back and go get Neil???

Fuck that.

He'll just turn Smith against the Foxes and-

Well Riko kept talking about Smith's dead dad and so Smith may have a slight misunderstanding about the full scope of this training camp. He may think that there is some sort of seance element to it at this point and he's kind of excited at the idea of talking to his dad. "I've never spoken to a dead man before, this will be fun." and it's delivered flatly with no expression.

Riko starts to wonder if maybe Smith is the Butcher's son? Did the Butcher have two sons? He's sweating all the sudden.

It does not help that Smith brings a Ouija board to camp or that his dad was a legit Butcher before he died so Riko's tentative questioning only sends him further into an anxious mess about if Nathan had twins and Riko, due to being kept away from the family business, might just not be aware of it?

Smith has a nice Christmas break.

The last scene I've got dinging around in the noggin is in Binghamton. Smith has been left behind at many a stadium at this point. There's a solid and fast rule.

Neil cannot get on the bus without Smith. They are buddies. This is the buddy system. So when the riot starts and Neil seems to be getting pulled away in the crowd?

Well Smith grabs his hand and pulls him towards the bus, "Buddy system."

The bus starts and they're on their way shortly after. Neil's an anxious wreck but that next morning he wakes up to the news that the Butcher of Baltimore died in an FBI raid the night before as well as his men.

Smith watches the news with Neil, "Wow, that's scary." as he sips some orange juice.

[tonyspank]

PROLOGUE | GET ME

Jenna Ortega x G!P Reader

Words: 1.2k A/N: I decided to turn the imagine into a book! This isn't published on Wattpad yet so feel special LMAO

series masterlist | main masterlist | next chapter

You didn't know the exact number, but it was quite a few people sitting together at your dining room table. Everyone was laughing, talking, and enjoying each other's company. You examine the scene in front of you, taking a quick sip of your iced tea.

You couldn't help but smile, feeling the warmth of the moment as your mom laughed loudly placing an arm on your dad's shoulder. He leaned into the touch, smiling even wider than before.

"No! Honestly, you guys are like Mr. and Mrs. Smith." John, your father's best friend says, letting out a heartwarming chuckle. Your mom and dad look at each other, their eyes twinkling with love and joy. They both nod in agreement, finding it hilarious to be compared to the movie couple.

"Don't you think Jenna?" Jenna turns at the sound of her name, humming in agreement. "Just like em'. Remember when they were them for Halloween?" John laughs, nodding in agreement. "That was a good one, wasn't it?" He turns to your mom and dad, giving them a wink. "And you two were perfect for the part."

Jenna smiles, grabbing her glass of wine. Her diamond ring shining in the light of the room. "Y/N," a voice says at the end of the table. You raise your eyebrows, looking at the older blonde-haired woman. "My son, Chris, wants to know if you're still playing basketball."

You nod, taking a sip from your glass. "Yeah, I'm still playing." You say, smiling. The woman smiles back, "That's great. Chris would love to hear more about it." You nod again, placing down your glass. "Sure, I'd love to. Why don't you let me know when he's free and we can talk about it?" The woman nods, "I'll do that. I'm sure he'd be happy to hear what you have to say."

The rest of the night went by smoothly, everyone being glad to celebrate your parents' success with their recent client. You were grateful for your parents. They loved you dearly and always made sure you knew that despite their busy schedules.

You had a deep appreciation for their dedication and hard work. You wanted to make them proud, and you knew that meant doing your best in everything you did.

Everyone was gone except Jenna who was talking to your father at the kitchen island as your mother and you were washing the dirty dishes used for the get-together. Jenna was telling your father about her plans for the future. Your mother and you were silently listening, washing the dishes as Jenna talked. You could tell your parents were proud of her and the plans she had made.

She was their youngest friend, but one of their closest. They looked at her like another daughter, and she looked up to them as mentors. "But yeah, that was about it." Jenna finishes off. Your father nods with a hum, stroking his beard. Jenna smiled, a peaceful look on her face.

"Could you put these glasses away?" Your mother asks, gaining your attention. You look away and grab the glasses, putting them away in the cabinet. You turn back around and your father winks at you causing you to laugh.

Your mother smiles, shaking her head. She knows your father and you are always joking around. "We have some news." Your mother speaks up, leaning against the kitchen counter.

Your father nods, sitting upright on the bar stool. "We're leaving for Europe tomorrow morning for business." You nod, already knowing this information.

You feel there's a but coming in, "But..." There it is. "It's a three-month-long trip." Your father speaks up immediately reading the look on your face, "Well, it was supposed to be a month and a half but your mother and I want to take some time to relax."

You shrug and nod, knowing that you can handle the extended trip. You turn to your father and smile, "It's all good. I'll be on my best behavior. You two deserve a vacation." Your father side-eyes your mother, who takes a glance back at her husband.

Okay. What's going on? "We know... because Jenna will be watching over you." You snap your head to Jenna, your brows furrowed together before glancing between your parents.

"You're leaving Jenna to babysit me?" Jenna smiled nervously, not knowing what to say. Your parents exchanged a look before your dad spoke.

"Honey you have to understand, it's three months. We trust Jenna to take care of you."

You sighed and crossed your arms, not wanting to accept the reality. You knew what they were saying was true, but you just didn't want to believe it. You looked at Jenna, who was still smiling nervously. You turn back to your mom, uncrossing your arm. "I'm eighteen!"

Your mom raises an eyebrow at the rise of your voice. You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "You just turned eighteen. Watch your tone." You exhaled sharply and nodded, conceding to the fact that you had to wait before you could make your own decisions.

You glanced at Jenna, who was still sitting patiently, and then back at your mom. "Okay, I understand," you said, before turning your attention back to Jenna. Jenna smiles at you, relieved.

"And since you're under some new supervision we talked about some ground rules." First a babysitter and now ground rules? Were you fourteen? Your mom looks at your dad who nods quickly, turning his attention to you.

"We're taking the keys to your motorcycle," your eyes widen and you drop your jaw. He continues despite your reaction, "Please consult with Jenna before you do anything. No random invites, no random going out, tell her."

You nod your head in understanding. You know that this rule is for your own safety. "And finally go to class. No skipping! If I get a call from the office telling me you missed class, all hell will break loose. You hear me?" Your mom buts in, a stern look on her face.

You nod again and mumble, "Yes ma'am." You take a deep breath, knowing that your mom is looking out for you. Your mom raises from the counter, walking over to you and rubbing a hand on your bicep and saying, "We love you. We want you to be safe and responsible."

She gives your arm a gentle squeeze stepping back and facing Jenna, "Jenna you can stay in the guest room upstairs. If you need anything don't be afraid to ask, and make yourself at home." Jenna smiled and thanked her.

"There's plenty of food in the kitchen, and feel free to watch TV or use the internet if you want." Jenna nodded, giving your mom a warm smile. She thanked her again, and your dad stands up giving Jenna a squeeze on her shoulder before sticking his tongue out at you and heading upstairs.

Jenna laughed and your mom shook her head, amused following behind the tall man. Once your parents we're out of the kitchen Jenna looks at you, her dark brown eyes staring into yours. She smiled brightly and said, "Don't worry, I'm not a bad babysitter."

You shake your head, smiling. "Please stop. The term babysitter is so embarrassing." Jenna laughed and said, "I know you're not a baby, but I guess I'm still going to have to look out for you." She winked and you both laughed. You were relieved that she wasn't going to treat you like a child.

This was going to be a crazy three months.

[jrow]

May Prompts (25)

Day 24 here. Start from the beginning here. Day 26 here.

Intuition

He may not be Sherlock Holmes, but he trusts his intuition.

In fact, right now his intuition is probably a hell of a lot more reliable than Sherlock’s. He’s seen what Sherlock will do when blinded by anger.

It’s time for Captain Watson to take control.

“Don’t look out the window,” he hisses through a smile. “Keep looking at me or Rosie. Look happy.”

“But John—“ Sherlock argues, gesticulating wildly.

“Sherlock. Trust me.” He knows his tone leaves no room for argument. Even from the great Sherlock Holmes.

Sherlock freezes and then starts fidgeting slightly awkwardly. He seems almost … flustered. But then he gives a tiny nod and plasters on a fake smile while keeping his eyes firmly on Rosie.

“Good. Now, you are going to get up and go order two coffees. And I am going to call Mrs. Hudson and ask her to pick up Rosie from here.” He looks at his daughter who is happily scribbling with the crayons and blank paper they brought. He thinks maybe he can see some hearts among her chaos of lines. “We aren’t doing anything until we get Rosie out of here.”

That seems to get through to Sherlock. “Right. Of course. Coffees.”

They proceed with their tasks and soon are back at the table, pretending to have a normal conversation while they wait for their landlady. It’s excruciating.

“Who is he?” Sherlock asks, leaning back in his chair, the picture of relaxation.

“I don’t remember his name but he was on the scene at the … Smith abduction case maybe? Something around that time.” He takes a drink of coffee. “And the bastard has been one of the constables assigned to my room too. Changed his hair and shaved off his moustache but definitely the same guy.”

“Of course, I should have known. No man in their right mind would dye their hair that colour. He’s hoping you won’t make the connection,” Sherlock says, picking up one of the crayons and drawing a happy face beside Rosie’s scribbles. She giggles and snatches the crayon from his hand, having decided she needs the yellow at this very instant. “He seems to think he has a lot to lose. I have no doubt he’s planning an escape—somewhere in Europe most likely.”

To anyone else, he’s sure Sherlock sounds calm, but he hears the quiet fury lacing every word.

He doesn’t know what to say, so they sit in silence for a moment. He drinks his coffee and Sherlock and Rosie play a game of keep away with the crayons.

“I wonder how Larkin got mixed up in all this. Hate to say it, but I feel a bit sorry for the guy,” he finally says, mostly to pass the time.

“That’s easy,” Sherlock says, keeping his focus on Rosie. “Constable Needs-to-Die happened upon Mr. Larkin in the midst of some crime. Something serious that would come with significant jail time. The constable looked the other way in exchange for a major favour, which he called in when he decided he needed to get you out of the picture.” A pause. “Feel no sympathy. Robert Larkin got exactly what he deserved.”

That rather somber sentiment is quickly dissipated by Rosie’s squeals of delight and calls of “Nana” that announce Mrs. Hudson’s arrival. She’s trying to jump down from the booster even before Mrs. Hudson made her way through the door.

“What did you tell her?” Sherlock asks quietly, leaning close.

“Just that I … errr… just that I was hoping to have a little extra time alone with you,” he says, feeling the heat in his cheeks rise. It’s not that far from the truth, really, but feels like a confession of sorts.

Mrs. Hudson swoops in and hugs Rosie before Sherlock can respond. “There’s my little princess, let’s get you in your pushchair. We are going to have so much fun!” For a woman pushing 80, Mrs. Hudson is impressively spry. She quickly gets everything together (eschewing all help), including getting Rosie all buckled in without a fuss.

“Thank you, Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, his voice neutral but his toe tapping rather aggressively.

“It’s my pleasure, boys. You two have fun,” Mrs. Hudson replies with a wink. “Don’t get into too much trouble.” Her words are light but there’s a look in her eye that makes him think she understands the urgency. In a flash, she and Rosie are gone.

He tries to pick up his coffee but his hands are shaking in anticipation of what’s to come. And relief that, whatever happens, Rosie is safe in Baker Street. Where she belongs.

It’s also relief that he is here with Sherlock, about to do … whatever it is they are about to do. Together. It’s where they belong.

“John,” Sherlock says, forcefully. “Rosie is safe. It’s time to do things my way now.”

Time to follow intuition once again.

“Dear god, yes.”

@keirgreeneyes @raina-at @totallysilvergirl @meetinginsamarra @jolieblack @phoenix27884 @friday411 @calaisreno @lisbeth-kk @safedistancefrombeingsmart @momma2boys @helloliriels @dapetty @quimerasyutopias

[grigori77]

Reasons to LOVE Dungeons & Dragons: Honour Among Thieves

It's brand new in cinemas, so there are still plenty who ain't seen it, so if you're among 'em best skip this and just GO SEE IT, it's SO well worth it, genuinely it's one of the best new movies I've seen so far this year. Hope you love it as much as I did!

So, yeah, there you go - SPOILER WARNING, FOLKS!!! If you don't wanna get spoiled, RUN!!!

Still here? Okay, here we go then ...

This really is, UNAPOLOGETICALLY, a comedy. I mean yeah, this is a classic fantasy action adventure in the Willow, Krull or Ladyhawke mold, but it is also very enthusiastically POKING FUN at the classic conventions of the genre ... albeit CLEARLY done with great affection and love for the material, as only the best lampoons can be. So this is more The Princess Bride or Galaxy Quest than Your Highness or Spaceballs ...

Chris Pine is ALWAYS at his best when he's being FUNNY, so he is PERFECT here. Edgin is most definitely a bit of a douchebag, but he's the sweetest, most lovable douchebag you'll ever encounter.

Holga. Literally just EVERYTHING about Holga. She's my favourite character in this, this REALLY IS the best role that Michelle Rodriguez has EVER HAD, if you ask me. She's a total badass, a truly AMAZING FIGHTER, but I love that despite her dour demeanour she's actually quite sweet, gentle and really a great innocent in many ways. She's an absolute cinammon roll and must be protected at all costs.

OH MY GODS!!! All the easter eggs, SO MANY easter eggs ... FAR too many to count throughout, all the references and nods and winks to the game itself, all the spells and races and creatures and stuff ... but I love how the movie NEVER beats you over the head pointing any of it out, it just lets you enjoy it. So the proper fans will get a huge kick out of spotting it all, but casual viewers will just enjoy it as rich worldbuilding colour and flavour.

Seriously though, it's a D&D fan's DREAM!!! Not just the mimic, or the owlbear, or the gelatinous cube! SO MUCH to spot ...

Justice Smith's Simon gets THE CLEVEREST and best introduction in the film, I love the theatre scene, he's SO BAD at this while also simulataneously being really great. Totally sums up this gloriously clunky hot mess of a sorcerer ...

the opening is GENIUS, totally sets the movie up as it means to go on - the parole hearing is a brilliant comedic take on the scene-setting infodump which is brilliantly carried through in the way the movie delivers exposition in a fun way or just lets you absorb it through what's happening in each scene. This is the perfect, TEXTBOOK way to do it.

"That is one pudgy dragon!" LOL

Doric. Just EVERYTHING about Doric. Sophia Lillis' tiefling druid is a wonderful diminutive little action hero, so fiesty and capable. I love her. It's just a shame she's not primary coloured, I'd have loved it even more if she'd been blue, or red ...

The Wildshape Escape! XD Yeah, I love that, that's THE BEST set-piece in the whole movie, definitely, when Doric gets cught out spying and has to shapeshift on the fly to get away, and it all plays out in one immersive single shot that just leaves your heart in your mouth ...

Oh, the Speak With The Dead montage, that is comedy GOLD. Funniest scene in the whole movie. And with added payoff at the end! XD

Rege-Jean Page's Xenk Yendar. Oh boy, that paladin is something else. I love how LITERAL he is, he's like Drax in GOTG but much more intelligent. Y'know when Holga says: "You're not a lot of fun, are you?" to him? She's so wrong. I just wish there was more of him in this ...

The heist! Oh, the heist! So good ... the portal trick, it's great, love the way they did that, and then that HILARIOUS bard illusion distraction - Pine skipping the song like a broken record was just chef's kiss!

That wonderful wibbly-wobbly illusory reality thing whenever Simon tries to atune to the Helm ... wow, that is some spectacularly trippy shit. Granted, twice is fine for terms of pacing, but I could've done with a few more scenes of that, it's fascinating.

Hugh Grant really has just become a MASTER at playing smarmy, slimy duplicitous gits now, hasn't he? Forge is a reprehensible prick and I love it.

I love how they made Bradley Cooper a halfling for his cameo. They're never gonna let him live down the fact that he's now probably best known for playing a two-foot-tall talking racoon so forever after he will be a Short King.

Wow, Daisy Head's Sofina is a CRACKING villain, she's just SO CREEPY!!! I love how coolly menacing she is, a brilliant dark necromantic wizard that just makes your skin crawl. Especially at the end ... IS SHE a lich? Is that what they were doing there?

That whole big action climax, the showdown in the city centre is FIRE!!! It's so amazing, so brilliantly dynamic, with EVEN MORE great easter eggs! Simon and Sofina having an insanely awesome "arm wrestling" bout with Mage Hand versus Earthen Grasp (I think that's the spell, couldn't be sure), oh my gods! So cool ... and then the way they neutralised the threat! Brilliant.

Chloe Coleman's Kira is an absolutely adorable delight, and I think she's ENTIRELY JUSTIFIED in how pissed she is at Edgin for abandoning her. It makes the payoff when they finally make up so much better.

And that resurrection scene at the end? Yeah, sure, I saw that coming a mile off, but it was so well done, and they played it so well, that it was still SUCH a powerful scene even so. Just perfect.

Seriously, they just did this whole thing SO PERFECTLY. It's visually STUNNING, really it just looks AMAZING, and the action sequences are BRILLIANT but always feel entirely necessary for the story, which is how you want to do it. Best of all, though, is THE PACING!!! This is such a quick, breezy film, it just barrels along at a spectacular clip, so it never drags. Mark Kermode is right, even though this is two and a quarter hours long it doesn't FEEL LIKE IT, it feels like a super-trim 90-minute movie.

And it ties everything off nice and neat, too. Sure, there are definitely possibilities for the future, going forward if they make more, but if the movie DOES tank then it's fine, because this really does do a great job about feeling self-contained and telling its own complete story, so if we DON'T get more it won't be too big a disappointment ...

[mss-pit]

translation of voice actor interviews from Bravern BD

Translation of the cast interview featuring Suzuki Ryouta (Isami), Azakami Youhei (Smith), Suzumura Kenichi (Bravern), Aizawa Saya (Lulu) and Sugita Tomokazu (Superbia) from the special booklet included with the first BD release.

this is pretty long so I'm putting it behind a cut.

Suzuki Ryouta (Isami Ao):

Q: Tell us your impressions of the character you play.

You can tell by watching the first episode that I played him as someone who wordlessly takes on the burden of his superior's orders and crushes his enemies with his own power... a cool and stylish soldier. ...nah he wasn't like that at all, was he? During his first real battle, his hands were shaking and he acted like a coward without any courage, and he was forced to shoulder his fate as the pilot fighting against mysterious enemies that appeared all of a sudden. Fighting alongside Smith and Bravern, sometimes clashing with them, and gradually seeing his heart grow stronger, it felt like I too could have an explosion of courage along with him, making him a very fun character.

Q: Tell us about your favorite episode/scene/quote.

From episode one, the line “What the hell is this song!?!”. In the script I was just supposed to shout “Uaaaaaaah!”, but during voice recording I adlibbed my gut reaction to hearing the song. The director allowed my adlibbed line to be used, so it's a memorable quote to me. I also love the scene from episode eleven, where the four characters have a meal together. It is a mysterious scene where the atmosphere changes into that of a cooking manga (lol).

Q: Was there anything you were particularly conscious of when portraying this character?

I was conscious of expressing Isami as someone who is fundamentally a man of few words, with the austerity of a soldier who feels young yet mature. In the first half, my strong imrpression of him is that he is conflicted after meeting Bravern with how he doesn't want anyone to die but doesn't have the courage to fight. The boxing match with Smith allowed him to let out the weakness he'd been holding inside, and he was able to change his feelings into positive ones where he wants to fight alongside others without pressure. Even when he's conflicted, his comebacks are sharp, he is pretty scary when he gets angry, and he sheds tears when his companions fall... he is a character I portrayed expressing multitudes of human emotions.

Q: A message for fans.

Thank you for watching BBB until the end. In addition to hot blooded mecha fights, there are scenes that make you laugh, a little bit of sexiness, scenes that may make your eyes tear up, all sorts of fun things coming in a high tempo. It might be the kind of work where seeing Isami, who had no courage at all, gain it little by little through his battles, might give viewers that small first step as well. I am glad Bravern gave me the opportunity to play a mecha pilot protagonist for the first time. Thanks to all viewers and regards from here on.

Azakami Youhei (Lewis Smith)

Q: Tell us your impressions of the character you play.

At first we were not given a lot of character details. I attended the audition with a rough description of a “cheerful and macho solider”, but after reading the scripts and seeing his feelings for Isami and his fellow comrades, and how well he takes care of Lulu, he became a character I liked more the more I got to know about him. Almost as if he became like a “hero” to me. I think the comical atmosphere around him draw out his likable qualities. I tried my best to make his [English] pronunciation sound as native as possible. He was earnestly a very fun character to play.

Q: Tell us about your favorite episode/scene/quote

I really like the boxing episode between Isami and Smith. Like “we don't need words to communicate!” - it was a fun part to act with a mix of passionate fists meeting mixed with jokes. I think that's when they truly became friends so it's a part I particularly like. Also, it wasn't in the actual episodes, but in the preview for the first episode, Smith says the line “The wait's over, Isami!”. It is a line that has a bigger impact when you hear it again after knowing everything. Please listen to that line one more time!

Q: Was there anything you were particularly conscious of when portraying this character?

He may give off the strongest impression of being a bright and pleasant person, but his sometimes fragile expressions are memorable. He wants to be a hero, but the hero isn't him. That sense of failure he was carrying might have been the “shadow” side of this story. When recording his lines, more than getting across his “coolness”, I tried to get across the beliefs that were important to him, as well as that sense of being the “shadow”. On one side, he is the polar opposite of the cold Isami, but no matter how bad things make him look he doesn't waver in his own belief in justice. And for him, the “shadow” of failure turns into strength because of his strong convictions. I am happy thinking this power could connect him to becoming Bravern.

Q: A message for fans.

Thank you for supporting this work. This is the kind of story that makes you think “who is the protagonist?”, and people can come to different conclusions. Like Isami, who is forcibly made to be the hero and is dragged onto the stage and shouldered a huge burden without knowing why. Or like Smith who, faced with the reality of not being able to become what he wanted to be, was able to overcome that sense of failure. Or like Hibiki and Miyu who are able to make everyone happy by playing a supporting role. Or like King, who lets his personal feelings aside and becomes the one who makes the hard decisions. From all sorts of protagonist viewpoints, try watching the show thinking what sort of existence Bravern is to all of them.

Suzumura Kenichi (Bravern)

Q: Tell us your impressions of the character you play.

When I saw the design, I thought it was totally Bari-esque (lol). “This is it!” I cried out.

The more you see him face against other characters the more it becomes clear just how out of sync with everyone he is, which is funny, but I was also nervous how hit the subtle balance right each time. I played him like the kind of hero robot character I looked up to as a kid, which made me happy on a personal level. I portrayed him with all the expected qualities of a mecha anime, but being a lifetime otaku helped me a lot. I'm glad I like robots.

Q: Tell us about your favorite episode/scene/quote.

It was fun to put effort into voicing the special attack/fusion scenes. Obari-san has done continuous work on mecha anime, and has many peculiarities about how attack shouts should be voiced to the samllest detail, and recording while receiving those sessions was fun. I also got to voice the the hero character in the tokusatsu show Smith and Lulu were watching! Taking notes on how to voice live action-ish lines once again was very fun. When you know that Bravern was created from Smith's feelings, you can tell that the image of that hero character probably made a deep impression on a part of him.

Q: Was there anything you were particularly conscious of when portraying this character?

When the test recording of the first episode was done, Obari-san called for me and told me: “Bravern's real identity is Smith”. I was the only one who was told this. Because this was kept a secret from the other voice actors, it was hard to keep myself from telling everyone my real feelings (lol). Although I was cast through an audition, knowing this changed the entire plan of portraying the character. The way he interacts with Isami, the way he says his special attacks, how he uses his new powers... instead of voicing these lines in a straightforward manner, I played him as if it was actually Smith acting as a hero. After the reveal of his identity happens in the second half if the series, I played him as if he becomes stronger and more confidently hero-like.

Q: A message for fans.

This is a work you can enjoy from many different viewpoints. For a mecha-otaku like me it doesn't betray your expectations, and people who have never seen a mecha anime before can laugh and cry. It is a work full of elements that people can enjoy. There are lots of characters with their own charms, so I think everyone will find a favorite. If you watch the entire show from the beginning after the ending, you will be able to notice how everything was laid out! Please watch it around 100 times (lol).

Aizawa Saya (Lulu)

Q: Tell us your impressions of the character you play.

I took this role as a challenge, and she was a character who gave me a lot of challenges. I want people to understand her passionate courage by watching her introduction scene again after the last episode,

Q: Tell us about your favorite episode/scene/quote.

I like her relationship with Superbia. From their backstory, where he accepts her determination, to their present, where their feelings align and they take off together. Their gapigapi arguing was a good memory. And as an actor, getting to be a mecha pilot is a great treasure.

Q: Was there anything you were particularly conscious of when portraying this character?

In the beginning, she didn't even understand what language was and she didn't have a developed tongue. I payed attention to which words in the script would be difficult to pronunce. The subtle line of her not being able to communicate properly and words still having to be audible to viewers had to be tread carefully. Her state of growth from episode to episode was carefully maintained by consulting with Obari-san.

Q: A message for fans.

Thanks for supporting this passionate work. Make the courage hidden inside you burst forth!

Sugita Tomokazu (Superbia)

Q: Tell us your impressions of the character you play.

The word “bonds” can easily become trite when thrown around easily, but I felt that to Superbia, his bonds with others are precious to him. As comrades in arms, as ojisama, the future that comes forth must be bright.

Q: Tell us about your favorite episode/scene/quote.

I loved hearing so many good voices. The voice actors Obari-san chooses for this works never let you down, I thought. And it was exactly as I expected. Every episode my ears and heart were happy.

Q: Was there anything you were particularly conscious of when portraying this character?

The pronunciation of “Lulu”. The “Oh, has something changed here?” should be immediately obvious.

Q: A message for fans.

Brave! Bang! Shake hands with Superbia in his new form that's probably gonna come out! It's gonna be come out, right?

[gabessquishytum]

This has been haunting my head forever, but as we all know Robert Smith was the leading inspiration for Dream in the comics with more than a bit of Neil sprinkled in there (and a few other goth rock bands like Bauhaus' Peter Murphy) and I just can't get over the image of a goth rockstar Dream.

It's the late 70s, and our boy Dream is riding a creative high of LSD and pedal effects to the top of the pops. They're calling the band he fronts, name and members are up to you or whoever takes this idea on, Goth bc they're too dark for New Wave but are just upbeat enough to steer clear of Televison's particular brand of Post-Punk. It's a newer label but a fitting one considering how dour and moody the genre has gotten since Ian Curtis's death. One he despises as he claims he's very happy with his current success and how his life is going.

But he's not happy. He hates playing to the newly forming stereotype of his fans, but he isn't. Celebrity Marriages hardly ever last and his relationship with his novelist wife is crumbling around him. He loves his son but the touring schedule is killing all of his free time. He's also pretty deep into substance abuse but he wouldn't admit it to his big sister let alone the random journo who has a camera in his face while he's trying to catch a 5:30 am flight to start his newest tour. He's just burnt out and creatively stuck as the label tries to pigeonhole him into this new subgenre, which he doesn't want anymore. Life, his life, can't be doom and gloom forever even though that's where it looks like it's heading. Forever being hailed as the Nightmare King.

Meanwhile, three radio stations over, Hob Gadling is desperately trying to hang onto life. He's a bit older now than when he first broke out onto the music scene as a rambunctious coat rider of the Sex Pistols, but he's still going strong. Punk has always been his outlet. Life sucks and you keep on living despite it. It tried to kill him not long after he debuted with substance use, but he powered through it and got clean. His wife died in childbirth, but he stuck around to raise his son. He even took a three-year hiatus and completely missed how much the sound had changed from his younger years. Even as post-punk has risen in popularity and the friends he knew have either died or changed their sound completely, he won't give up hope! Punk's not dead and neither is he. No matter how long his hair gets or if he grows out of his leather jacket.

The two meet rather coincidentally. Hob just happens to be opening for Dream on the Europe leg of his tour. Unsurprisingly the tension around Dream's band has become a powder keg and when he finally snaps and fires his guitarist, his bassist also leaves. With half the band gone, Dream considers calling it quits right then and there. Fuck the new album, fuck the last fifteen or so dates. He wants to go home. But Hob sees how close they are to finishing the tour and puts his foot down. They will finish the tour! So he offers up his services to Dream. He's not bad with a guitar and if Dream can cover the bass, then he'll play all night if he has to. Because out there on stage? That's life and he wants to keep making people happy and give them something that might transcend time and space. To never die bc his name is there among the annuls of rock history.

And in time, Dream will come around to his new friend. He will learn to appreciate the zest for performing and living his new friend has. He will also think he has the greatest body known to man and will forever laugh at the terribly done anarchy A Hob has tattooed on his ass, but that's neither for here or there. For now, Dream pulls himself together and gets his bass out from the dark pits of hell the roadies call gear storage. For the show must go on.

Oh god I want an entire novel length story around this. It’s fantastic! I have so many thoughts about these two!!

Hob is falling in love with all the new sounds that he’s hearing. He spent his time on his hiatus being a suburban dad, and now he’s back on the scene is just feels amazing. He can’t get enough of Roxy Music and David Bowie and Elvis Costello. And he’s determined to drag himself back up among those names! He’s got so many ideas of where punk can go! And he’s fascinated by Dream and his band. The lyrics are a little dark and wallowy, but Hob understands that actually people need to hear that. Life in the UK isn’t easy, particularly for young people. They need something loud and desperate and real. Little does he know, Dream feels like what he’s doing is so far away from being real. He feels likes such a fraud. He can’t get off the hamster wheel except by shooting up and passing out.

Hob recognises all of this in approximately 0.5 seconds after meeting Dream. It makes him pretty sad, but he’s determined that he’ll lift Dream out of his funk. If nothing else, he’ll make him love music again.

So when Hob said he was OK with a guitar, he was lying - he's actually a bit of a genius, and it's fair to say that Dream falls a little bit in love with him about half way through the sound check. Instead of hiding in the dressing room and licking his wounds over the band breaking up, he actually watches as Hob opens for him. Hob is very classic punk, it's all very "fuck the government, fuck me up the arse" kind of stuff, but Dream doesn't get bored for a single second. Hob is just that entertaining, and his riffs are insane. Dream itches to write a song for him. And when Hob ends the set with a jokey little song that his five year old son allegedy wrote the lyrics for (lil Robyn is very punk, just like his daddy) Dream’s eyes actually get a bit misty. It's probably all the smoke.

And there's really no time to get emotional! Dream’s drummer, Constantine, thankfully didn't walk out with the rest of them. So somehow, with Hob’s virtuosic guitar skills and sheer determination, plus Dream’s refusal to fail yet again, they actually make a really decent show. Dream feels a tingle of the old spark that he used to get when he first started out - it probably has something to do with the way Hob upends a bottle of water all over his head half way through the show and grins like a maniac.

After the show they crash in a local hotel. Hob calls his kid from the payphone and Dream wishes that he had the courage to do the same. Instead he takes some pills so he doesn't have to feel the high from the show gradually wearing off into nothingness. He doesn't know why Hob comes and sits next to him in the dark, pressing against him from thigh to shoulder. He stays for the whole of Dream’s trip, in fact, humming something quiet and classic. Dream feels quite ashamed of himself, and for the first time he thinks that maybe he'd feel better without the drugs. Maybe.

As the tour gets off to a slow start, Dream starts to notice that Hob is having some kind of positive effect on him. Just little thing. They get breakfast together, so Dream actually eats something, which is unusual. Their little arguments don't get out of hand, because Hob never lets them escalate. When Dream is angry and spitting at the world, Hob is sure to point of something positive. Not that Hob doesn't get sad, too - he just deals with it differently. He goes for long walks, and turns off the news when it gets bad. He gets himself a snack when he's irritable, and laughs about it afterwards.

Dream writes him a near impossible guitar solo and it feels like a "thank you".

They have a sweet, unexpected first kiss. It's 2am and they're standing at the edge of the road, waiting for a mechanic to come out to their broken down tour bus. There's no one around to see, so Dream rests his head on Hob’s shoulder. He's sore, and weary. Hob turns his head slightly and tucks an arm around him, and it just happens. They kiss. It is, of course, the first of many.

And you can bet that Dream kisses that anarchy tattoo a million time, too.

[creepycranberry]

Great big stars

Warnings: underage drinking, cursing, not proofread

Pt 1 pt 2 pt 3 pt 4

<3<3<3<3<3

Some years earlier

You hadn’t meant to get as drunk as you did, and you knew getting this drunk could only lead to bad things but you didn’t care. The only thing you could focus on, drink or not, was that he was over there with her.

“I think you’ve had enough.” He says in your ear but you don’t care. You had half forgotten he was there at all.

“I’m fine, Edward.”

“Are you though?” Eddie asks, attempting to swipe the beer from you but you moved it away.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Because you haven’t stopped staring at that jerk since our set was over.” Eddie sighs, rolling his eyes. You had been like this for weeks. Combative, surly and somewhat hostile. All over some douche who didn’t treat you right in the first place.

“Whatever.” You grumble, dropping a few bills on the counter and walking away from the bar, Eddie following closely behind.

“Where are you going?”

“Home. I wanna go to bed.” You whine and Eddie shakes his head.

“You Can’t drive right now sweetheart.”

“Like hell I can.” You mumble, grabbing your keys and fumbling with your car door.

“Come on, I’ll drive you home.”

“But my car.” You pout, tears springing to your eyes and eddies heart squeezes.

“Gareth can drive it over to yours and you can come stay the night with me. We’ll have a sleepover and watch those terrible movies you love and listen to the Smiths.” He offers, trying his best to soothe you.

“You said the Smiths are too sad.” You sniffle.

“But I didn’t say I didn’t like them. Come on, sweetie.” He helps you into the van and goes to give gareth your keys.

When he gets back you’re crying, it’s only then that he notices that Jason and Chrissy have made their way outside of the bar.

Eddie had no idea why they were here. This wasn’t exactly their scene.

“Hey, sweetheart. Look at me.”

“Why-why does he like her? She didn’t used to be his type, why is she his type now? Why is it- why was she better than me? Why’d he-”

“Hey, hey, it’s okay, she’s not better than you, I promise. He just changed, people just change.” He pulls out of the parking lot in a hurry, trying to get you away from them.

He hears your faint sniffling and he has to do his best not to turn around and kill that jackass.

He knew why Jason had left you. He didn’t hate Jason before all this but he wasn’t his biggest fan. Freshman year had been Jason pulling back from you slowly, going from a well intentioned gangly boy to a hierarchy obsessed jackass.

You weren’t on his level anymore. Chrissy was. It was that simple. It was shitty.

By the time Eddie got you home you had calmed down, staring out the window and watching the trees run away from you.

When the two of you walked in, Wayne was packing his break time meal. And when he saw the state you were in, he stopped.

“What happened?”

“Nothing Wayne, she’s just tired.” Eddie responds and Wayne shakes his head.

“She can speak fine for herself. What’s going on, dear? Was it that boy?” He asks and you halfheartedly nod.

“Before you do anything- don’t. She won’t even let me handle it.” Eddie warns him and Wayne deflates slightly, turning his attention back to you.

“Okay. But if you change your mind, just say the word, pumpkin.” He kisses your forehead and goes back to his lunch, letting Eddie lead you to his room.

He puts an old movie that you love in the vhs player as you curl up on the bed, closing your eyes. Eddie waits for the sound of Wayne closing the front door before he goes and gets you a water bottle and makes you a sandwich.

“I’m not hungry.” You mumble and Eddie shakes his head.

“Eat.”

“I don’t want to.”

He gives you a playful pout, dramatizing it until you start smiling.

“Please eat? Please?” He playfully pleads until you concede. The both of you get quiet as you eat and Eddie watches the movie. Once you’re done you set you plate on his nightstand and lay down. He plays with your hair to sooth you, the world going quiet for a minute, “he never deserved you.” Eddie whispers, “not once. You were everything. You were great to him and if he can’t appreciate that then I think that’s his problem.”

“I loved him.” You shrug.

“I know. I’m sorry.” Eddie mutters, glancing at you.

“Me too.” You yawn, turning over to face him and closing your eyes.

“Don’t do that again, okay? Don’t scare me like that, sweetheart.”

“I won’t. I’m sorry. I’m just really sad. And kind of fucking angry.” You sniffle.

“I know. Next time you wanna get drunk we can do it here. Not at a crowded bar, here and we can watch movies and be fun drunk.”

He waits for you to respond but when a response doesn’t come he looks at you and you’re asleep, curled up in a ball, your head nuzzled against his side.

[hotdaemondtargaryen]

FABIEN FRANKEL AND MATT SMITH TALKING ABOUT THEIR CHARACTERS IN 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' S2 FOR CBR MAGAZINE.

ABOUT EPISODE 2.

FABIEN FRANKEL:

"[Criston's] really shocked, actually. I don't think he ever thought it was going to be him. Larys [Strong] has a better chance of becoming Hand [of the King] than Criston does."

"It's not a bad thing for Criston that Otto [Hightower] is gone. Criston as Lord Commander is about as high up as he ever thought he could ever get."

"Criston is not built for this kind of power. He's a soldier. He's built to be out on the field fighting."

"He's not an orator. He is not a wise leader. That just isn't him. He's a man of few words, a man of action, and a man of, I think, compassion and humanity."

"But ultimately, I don't think he wants it."

"Albeit, I don't think Criston thinks Aegon is the right person necessarily to sit on the Iron Throne. Aegon is also someone who wants to get things done and prove himself."

"Aegon respects Criston because Criston's known him since he was a baby and taught him a great deal. It's kind of like Criston's been a manny to Aegon. [Laughs] He'd rather have Aegon on the Iron Throne than anyone else at that point."

"Even Aemond on the Iron Throne has its own threats and its own risks. Aegon's impetuousness can also be a good thing for Criston as Hand of the King."

MATT SMITH:

"It's very complicated for [Daemon and Rhaenyra] because Rhaenyra feels a great sense of betrayal and a sense of injustice that is being directed at her."

"Ultimately, it's at the hands of Daemon with his impetuous behavior."

"Coupled with the grief of his brother dying... the fracture of that relationship with Rhaenyra means that he literally is an island on his own in the middle of the ocean, with nowhere to go and no one to talk to."

"He's left to his own devices and his own thoughts get the better of him. He becomes submerged in his own deep, dark psychology."

"It's love, grief and vengeance. Daemon feels it's impossible not to exact that feeling of revenge when it's in him."

"He's not someone who can just sit on that and go, 'Do you know what? I'll leave that until tomorrow.' [Jaehaerys' death] isn't his mistake ultimately, but he does put it in motion."

"Whether I've got rose-tinted glasses about Daemon or not, I think he did it with his best intention."

FABIEN AND MATT TALK ABOUT FIGHT SCENES ARE THE BEST PART OF THEIR JOB.

MATT SMITH:

"The [scenes] that are tough are actually the ones where you're sitting around the tables. They take like three days. They've got to do all the coverage on everyone."

And you're like, 'Oh, God.'

FABIEN FRANKEL:

"I think if you quite like sport, which Matt and I do, the fight scenes are the best bit. I actually wish I could do more [fight scenes], because it just gives you something to completely focus all your energies on."

"When Matt and I got to do a great fight together in Season 1, those days flew by, and my adrenaline was sky-high."

WHY CRISTON IS PURSUING THIS RELATIONSHIP DESPITE HIS VOWS OF CELIBACY?

FABIEN FRANKEL:

"I think it's for the audience to create in their head the narrative as to why [Criston and Alicent are] having this relationship. I know what my motivations are playing it."

"It's important to remember that she saved him at the lowest point in his life, at the end of [Season 1, Episode 5, "We Light the Way"] when understanding the psychology behind the relationship."

"I'm very interested to hear what the theories are on that."

HOW MUCH OF DAEMON'S RELATIONSHIP WITH HIS DAUGHTERS VIEWERS WILL SEE IN 'HOUSE OF THE DRAGON' S2?

MATT SMITH:

"Without giving too much away, I don't think it's a huge area of exploration this season because everyone's on their own path a bit, particularly Daemon. There's an interesting story there to be told, certainly."

"Fatherhood is a very complex idea for him at the moment."

"He's still in the throes of grief, so I don't think he's a particularly efficient father this season."

ABOUT THE ARCS OF REDEMPTION FOR DAEMON AND CRISTON.

FABIEN FRANKEL:

"That's for the audience to decide. We're not the writers, so we don't have power over whether these characters ever get redemption arcs or not. They either get them or they don't. Then we have to play whatever is written on the page and find a way to justify that -- good, bad, or in the middle."

MATT SMITH:

"What's going to be interesting is it's up to people to decide, 'Did he do it? It's like it wasn't a mistake. Was it on purpose?' That's in [the fans'] hands really."

FRANKEL AND SMITH BOTH AGREED THAT THEIR CHARACTERS HOLD A MIRROR TO ONE ANOTHER, ESPECIALLY WHEN IT COMES TO THEIR OBSESSIVE LOYALTY TO THEIR RESPECTIVE FACTIONS.

MATT SMITH:

"Whether it's right or wrong, and whether they make the right decisions or the wrong decisions as a result of it, they both have a profound sense of loyalty in them."

"Maybe that leads to foolish pride, which leaves them exposed. It's a great strength, but it's the greatest downfall in a way, isn't it?"

FABIEN FRANKEL:

"100%. As a human being, I want to think that you have some willingness to change."

"Daemon and Criston's problem is that they don't change enough, or at least, adapt."

"Certainly, Criston finds it very hard to adapt."

"But the world is so complicated and everyone's so hateful, spiteful, manipulative and self-serving."

"Criston and Daemon are just extensions of that, ultimately."

WHAT ARE THE MAIN WEAKNESSES OF DAEMON AND CRISTON?

FABIEN FRANKEL:

"Romance. I don't think [Criston's] built to have relationships."

"Maybe he falls in love with Gwayne Hightower on the road. He's just not built for this world, man."

"I want him to get out of the castle and just get away. I think that once he gets away, things will be a lot better for him."

"But he's trapped."

MATT SMITH:

"Daemon's pride is probably a weapon against him. It's his inability to listen to anyone but himself."

"There are a lot of inner workings in Daemon that are trying to sort of destroy him. In a way, they're the things that propel him and drive him forward."

"I almost don't even want to name them as well, [but I'm] putting them out there."

"He is a dark storm of a man, certainly."

[the-grey-hunt]

i have covid and must sit in my room all day. it's ghost trick posting hours and i am thinking about a gt major arcana set

These are purely based on my vibes from experience and the little pamphlet that came with my Rider-Waite-Smith deck, so feel free to argue with me, i could really use a conversation to get invested in rn

0 - THE FOOL. Obviously this one is going to be Sissel. The Fool represents setting out on a journey that's gonna take you through the rest of the cards, and it's the zero point, the beginning of the deck (sometimes the end, which is how my pamphlet organizes it). I'd draw him in the junkyard, maybe as the ghost flame.

I - THE MAGICIAN. This one gave me the most trouble. I eventually settled on Pigeon Man, partly because I couldn't figure out a 'scene' i liked for this more than a person. He fits the bill of a man hiding some secrets, but one who's a sort of 'magus' (pamphlet's word) or knowledgeable figure. No idea how i'd draw it.

II - THE HIGH PRIESTESS. I picked the park guardian/Dabira. HEAR ME OUT. The description I have says "tenacity", or if reversed, "passion" and "surface knowledge" (hate to say it but Dabira does not know the lore). Normally this would be a woman, but I ran out of female characters before assigning this one. This drawing would highlight the stars in his eyes.

III - THE EMPRESS & IV - THE EMPEROR. Alma and Jowd, respectively. The Empress is "the unknown, doubt" or reversed, "truth, the unraveling...of matters". More her role in the story than her actual personality, but the game devs didn't give her one, so. The emperor represents "conviction" (lol) and "protection", but also reversed can mean "confusion", "obstruction".

I'd draw Alma in a fake foil-card, where it looks like it's being tilted so some of her is visible through the "foil" but the "reflective" parts are her blacked-out flashback silhouette. Jowd would be at the foot of a ruined throne.

V - THE HIEROPHANT. This one's Kamila. "Captivity" is one of the potential meanings, but reversed it can also be "weakness", which I don't mean as an insult, but she's a little girl who gets physically overpowered. It would be Kamila on a thronelike seat in the red trunk, the hierophant's tools (maybe pieces from the contraption) on the floor before her.

VI - THE LOVERS. Yomiel and FianSissel. "Love" and "trials overcome", but reversed "failure" or "foolish designs". I think they as a pair represent the potential meanings pretty well; there's definitely love, but their love leads them to foolish plans down doomed paths. Drawn as each other's reverse, like a face card in a deck of playing cards.

VII - THE CHARIOT. "Triumph", but reversed, "defeat". I'd draw this as squished Jeego rolling away with the wrecking ball—both a triumph and a defeat!

VIII - STRENGTH. Lynne! "energy" and "action" both describe her. The reversed meanings don't really fit, so I'm ignoring them lol. I'd draw her in her determined pose, maybe from in the Yonoa with the pocket watch.

IX - THE HERMIT. Ray! "Prudence" (the other meanings I'm given don't fit as well), but reversed, "concealment", "disguise". I'm drawing that boy wigglin'.

X - WHEEL OF FORTUNE. "Destiny", "luck". No character fits this as well as the clock from the 'rewind time' cutscene.

XI -JUSTICE. Literally just gonna be the Justice Minister, in one of his slumped-on-the-desk poses. "Executive", but reversed, "law in all departments", "excessive severity".

XII - THE HANGED MAN. This one is Cabanela, and you know he's going in the hanged man pose. "Trials", "intuition" "discernment"— reversed, "selfishness", so the regular and reversed readings are the truth v. how he's percieved.

XIII - DEATH: I think this should be a drawing of a detective's pistol. There's the possibility of getting more metaphorical with this card, but here, I don't think you need to.

XIV - TEMPERANCE. I put Rindge for this one because i wanted to include all the people who get their lives saved by Sissel, and I do think it fits. "accomodation" (of lynne); reversed, "competing interests" (his assignment v. helping lynne). I'd draw him seated at the table in the restaurant.

XV - THE DEVIL. This isn't as much a person (I mean, it's Sith), but I want this card to show as its centerpiece the little grabby thing that takes Yomiel's Temsik fragment out. Both Yomiel and Sith would be visible, to either side, but the meaning of "violence" or, reversed, "fatality", "pettiness", seems best suited by this specific scene.

XVI - THE TOWER. It's already been done perfectly and is tbh the reason I'm making this post

XVII - THE STAR. What else? The Temsik meteorite. Carries a meaning of "loss", but alternately (not reversed, but alternately) "hope", "bright prospects for the future". Two very different scenes in that park...I'd draw it in the crater, where it could be showing either future.

XVIII - THE MOON. Beauty and Dandy for this one, idk how i'd draw them. "Hidden enemies", "danger", "deception", "error".

XIX - THE SUN. Missile! Means "material happiness", "contentment", even when reversed. It's what he is and what he brings to people around him! I'm giving that boy a halo effect.

XX - THE LAST JUDGEMENT. A scene of "the last desperate struggle" (to borrow the soundtrack title) in Temsik Park, the last moment of gameplay in the game. Could be either the fountain with the meteor coming down, or missile in the bullet right before it's swapped. could be a lot of moments!

XXI - THE WORLD. I would do a cool thing with the phone lines and traveling through them for this one. luckily no one can make me draw it, so you're just gonna have to picture the coolness yourself

[aloysiavirgata]

Dancing that ISNT the PMP scene. Fucking love you gorgeous. ❤️❤️❤️

3 AM finds him waking up stiff and disoriented in the vinyl chair of her hospital room, his feet propped on an upside-down plastic wastebasket. His tie is hanging from the IV pole.

Mulder tests his joints, grimaces at the left shoulder. He’d overstretched it at the pool, shredding 2000 meters in under 30 minutes. He’s been lifting more, been running until he vomits. He doesn’t know if he’s punishing his body for being fit or trying to radiate so much health she’ll absorb it.

Perhaps if it’s the second he’ll need to feed it something other than coffee, Diet Coke, and sunflower seeds. Must be the first.

He examines her narrow form in the bruised light. Scully’s breath snuffles a bit at the cannula and he scans for blood at it but sees none. Her cheekbones curve resolutely past her patrician nose, down to her full, dry lips. There is a small tin of Smith’s Rosebud Salve on the fake wood nightstand. He resists the urge to rub a layer over them. He resists the urge to kiss her beautiful, cracked mouth.

Mulder sighs a bit, runs a finger around the back of his collar. She looks warm to him, looks safe and cared for and utterly beyond his ability to be of use. But he stays anyway, like one of those dogs that sleeps at the grave of its master.

He roams past the nurse’s station, where Jane and Esther give him sympathetic looks. They aren’t supposed to let him sleep in Scully’s room, but Esther is from Yorkshire and calls him lamb and duck and love, and he’s pretty sure he could get the lithe Jane in bed if he wanted to.

He’s drowned his sorrows in lanky brunettes before though, and it never quite took. Turns out he’s a man for dainty gingers.

The radio at the nurse’s station plays “Carolina In My Mind” and he hums along softly, making a styrofoam cup of tea. His father was happy in Raleigh. He was too, as much as he was happy anywhere. He thinks he might move down when Scully goes into the ground, a truth he can only admit at 3 AM. At all other times he will save her.

“Nah then, duck,” Esther says. “Tea from the machine, yer daft ‘apeth, when I’ve a proper kettle ‘ere? ‘Ow’s thy lass?”

He shrugs, smiles vaguely. Jane smiles back. Vaguely.

Mulder presses his head to the faded green wall as his tea steeps. It’ll be terrible, but strong. That’s good enough for him.

He hears a soft shuffling and looks up.

Scully in her spotless white robe and soft slippers, Scully like a Willow Ptarmigan approaching winter. The skin around her eyes is the delicate color of sublimated iodine.

“Scully,” he says, at a loss. She is beautiful in the way of alabaster vases, of all things that can shatter.

She yawns, lips shiny with the salve. Her hands are very thin when she covers her mouth. “Wonderful Tonight” begins on the radio now.

Esther smiles, looks away. Jane checks her watch and walks down the opposite corridor.

“Tea?” Scully says. “That’s more my brand. Why are you still here?”

He gulps the bitter brew. Winces. “I fell asleep,” he says, which is an answer but no answer at all.

“Mmm,” Scully says. She prepares herself some tea as well. Her white hands on the cup, her lower lip snagged between her teeth.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Mulder says.

“You didn’t. I just woke up. I do that a lot. My circadian rhythm…”

They don’t talk about her suprachiasmatic nucleus of the hypothalamus deep within her brain. Of what it might mean if it’s off kilter.

“I was noisy,” Mulder lies, looking at her nose again. He moves like a cat in her room. Like a thief in the night. “Banged into the bed.”

Scully smiles serenely. “It’s all right.”

Jane stalking the perimeter, Jane frowning at her clipboard.

The moon out the window like a scythe in the dark.

He loves her, does she know? Does he know what he would do to save her and how he’d do it and that he’d swim through blood and blood and blood for her, 2000 meters and back again in a heartbeat?

Scully puts her tea down, Scully looks at him with her late summer eyes in this month of her birth. Scully is dying.

On the radio, The Beatles begin “Let It Be,” and what the fuck, he draws her in, her tousled hair and fluffy robe and her rattan ribs.

“Mulder,” she says, peering up. She clutches his left hand with the pale garden spider of her right.

He twirls her beneath the fluorescent lights. He kisses her her forehead because if he kisses her mouth like he wants to she will die.

Jane does another lap and Esther pretends to read a chart and Scully murmurs along with Paul McCartney.

Mulder watches the flat light bounce off her hair, watches her sway, watches her smile for a moment. She tucks her head against his chest as the song ends, doesn’t withdraw.

“Angel Is A Centerfold” begins, which is hardly the mood he wanted, but they both laugh and the scythe of a moon fades away as they sing Na-na, na-na-na-na, Na-na-na, na-na-na-na in something like harmony.

He doesn’t know what song is next, but he holds her through it and the next one and a few more and Esther and Jane are replaced and the sun begins to burn the blackness away and Scully is warm and awake and alive in his arms for at least another day.

[pascaloverx]

Hit The Road

Chapter Three (M)

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Summary: You are a hunter of supernatural beings who is forced to experience a new reality: being a vampire. The only thing stronger than your thirst for blood is your thirst for revenge.

Author's note: the characters mentioned here were created by Kevin Williamson and Julie Plec, based on the book series of the same name by author L. J. Smith. They don't belong to me. That said, this fanfic will be short. This fanfic may address scenes of violence, inappropriate language. This chapter contains adult content. Minors should not interact with this story.

Stefan looks at you as if you're speaking a different language. Despite not remembering, you now know that you knew Stefan before, but he seems unaware.

"Maybe your mind is swapping Damon's image for mine, I heard some spells can do that." Stefan says as he holds the blood-filled glass. You are still recovering from being trapped in that damn tree. This is the most human you've felt in months.

"Can I go take a shower?" You ask, still very confused but knowing that nothing will be resolved today. And knowing that Damon is the only one who can fill the gaps that are empty in your mind.

"Of course, there's a bathroom in this room. I can grab a towel and a piece of clothing for you. Maybe I have a shirt that you can use temporarily." Stefan offers, his expression revealing a mix of concern and uncertainty.

"Thank you for being here and not killing me. I know you could if you wanted to." You say as you watch Stefan leave the room to fetch what you need. You know he heard you, but he doesn't seem ready to forgive. You then decide to go to the bathroom. You take off every piece of clothing that is on your body and start showering. Your mind is still troubled, you can barely focus. You wonder how to make it stop, how to manage not to have visions of a past that doesn't exist for you. When Stefan knocks on the door you feel the opportunity to have your mind directed towards something new. Maybe you need to use it for something other than bait.

"You can hand me the towel, there's no need to be afraid." You speak loud enough for him to hear. Minutes later, he enters the bathroom. You look at each other as if you want to communicate through your eyes. You mean maybe sex helps calm his mind and you bet he's hesitant. With your body still wet, you get out of the shower and see that Stefan has turned his head to the other side so as not to look while he hands you over the towel.

"I didn't want to misread the room, so I won't look or approach without permission." Stefan says as he is turned around, you take the towel and wrap it around your body.

"You can look at Stefan. I shouldn't throw myself at you like that. It's not what I would normally do but I..." You say this without noticing how close you are to Stefan. This somehow makes you nervous.

"Do you think doing something unusual will take your mind off what's bothering you?" Stefan speaks as if he can read your thoughts. You can't help but be speechless for a few seconds.

"It sounds more stupid when you say it like that, but forget it. Thanks for the towel." You wish you could throw yourself out the window out of shame. You try to avoid looking at Stefan as he approaches the mirror in front of the sink in the bathroom. You didn't hear him so you assume he's gone and look directly into the mirror. But he's still there. Standing still, with a thoughtful look. Do you notice that he is white tank top, which shows off his muscular arms.

"Are you sure this is what you want?" Stefan has a more serious tone which strangely seems sexy at this moment. Now you feel like you have to take a big step.

“If you can separate this from your emotional stuff, we have a done deal.” You repeat to yourself that this would just be sex with no ulterior motives. What could happen worse could happen, right?

You look at each other as if you reached a silent agreement, you want something and he seems to understand that. Stefan approaches you from behind, smelling you. The feeling of having him so close is good, and you feel like turning around as soon as he starts kissing your neck. Stefan's hands roam your body, as if recognizing the territory.

You push Stefan against the bathroom wall and start to remove his tank top. He takes this opportunity to rip the towel off your body. All you can feel now is lust for the man in front of you. You then kiss him, pressing your body naked to his. Your first kiss after being turned into a vampire, It's a kiss filled with lust. You don't know who is thirstier between the two of you. You soon help him take off his pants and pull down his underwear. Stefan presses both of his hands around your waist as he kisses you with superhuman intensity. You let out a moan and immediately end up biting Stefan's lip, who seems to like it. You now kiss him, tasting his blood. You run your hand over Stefan's erection and feel with that you realize neither of you can handle the foreplay more. You then give Stefan a boost so he understands that you're ready and he understands. Seconds later, he uses his vampire speed to put you on top of the bathroom sink. The friction of your butt in the cold sink makes you quickly mutter a "fuck" but you don't waste time and then attacks Stefan's lips. Stefan runs his hands over your breasts, moving down to check if you were wet enough.

"Stefan, I'm not human, you can do your best without worrying." You speak and then pull Stefan's face close to you, kissing him. Stefan enters you next, making slow thrusts. He seems to want to know what pace will be best. You then start to press yourself onto Stefan's cock. You use your feet to increase the precision of Stefan's thrusts, who seems to understand the message. He starts to thrust into you with greater force, which makes you bite his neck. He seems to like it, because as soon as you drink some of his blood, he kisses you with so much desire that if you go human would need to take a breath. You can feel your orgasm coming as you hold Stefan's back so tightly that you scratch him. He just needed to make two more thrusts and he came soon after.

"I think now I'm the one who needs a shower..." Stefan says, pulling out of you. You smile observing the mess he is in. He approaches and you give him one last kiss, while holding his neck to get up from the bathroom sink.

"I'm going to go get some clothes on. Have a nice shower." You say giving Stefan a peck on the lips. You go to the bed where you find your clothes today, a large men's shirt and underwear. You quickly put on your shirt and underwear, hearing the sound of the shower water. You see that coincidentally Stefan brought two towels. You then take the other towel and hand it to him.

"Thank you, I swear it wasn't on purpose, just a happy coincidence." Stefan says taking the towel from your hands. But just as you're about to hand in the towel, you have a vision. A vision where you find yourself in the same situation as Damon. He is in front of you naked, waiting for you to hand him the towel.

"I never imagined myself having an affair with a huntress but you definitely exceed any expectations." Damon says smiling, you then get in the shower with him.

"I never imagined myself falling in love with a vampire hotter than hellfire but here we are." You say and then kiss him.

You then awaken from the vision, in Stefan's arms. He looks worried, while you're opening your eyes and seeing that you've come back to reality. You then hug Stefan feeling like you need to feel something against your body to make sure it's real.

"Are you well?" Stefan asks apprehensively and you nod your head positively. He then rests your head on his chest.

"When you're done there, give her a bag of blood and put her in my room." Damon says surprising you and Stefan and then leaving. You and Stefan look at each other trying to understand what is happening.

[juchily]

songs I want to see in yj s3 (complete unreality this will never happen)

"Outsiders" by Franz Ferdinand I'm thinking a scene with adult Lottie in the asylum with this song playing and my thoughts stop there

"Shake it Out" by Florence + The Machine I'm thinking '96 timeline in the summer scene, just like a happy summer scene. Or; alternatively, it's a horrible mass self gaslight where they ignore everything that's happened and everything they've done (Javi... Jackie... Laura... Doomscoming and Travis), so a more ironic usage of the song

"Hemorrhage (In My Hands)" by Fuel Really this one, "Shimmer", or "Falls On Me" are really Yellowjackets coded so, no other thoughts

"Black Sabbath" by Black Sabbath It's perfectly slow and eerie, this is literally yellowjackets, this song is literally so yellowjackets I can't even. This is the song that they'd put during the finale or a really heavy or edge of your seat moment. "Figure in black which points at me Turn around quick, and start to run Find out I'm the chosen one" "Big black shape with eyes of fire Telling people their desire"

"Fallen Leaves" by Billy Talent FALLEN LEAVES, if you've seen my other Yellowjackets and song lyrics post, you know This song is literally about troubled kids from a troubled place

"You Know You're Right" By Nirvana This song is obscure, like that damned sapphic soccer team

"The Lovecats" by The Cure, this song is not about cats, look it up, tw if you're sensitive to suicide mentions, but the lyrics aren't inherent, you have to look it up to know what it was really written about it's giving... we're doing insane shit together that will haunt the narrative 🥰

"Champagne Supernova" by Oasis CHAMPAGNE SUPERNOVA, like I said before with Fallen Leaves, if ykyk This song is about things changing with time, and I think really encapsulates some themes in YJ

"Cult of Personality" by Living Colour

"Man Who Sold The World" by David Bowie or covered by Nirvana

"Since I Told You it Was Over" by Stereophonics "But you were on your track, it was me turning back, I left you freezing outside" WHAT JACKIESHAUNA "You've seen a cross, it's a cross I bear You're drinking, hard up, living without a hope or a care You're making do to please, see what makes you smile You're not around for long, you gotta see what's gonna move your life right along" ADULT TAIVAN, VAN???? n vibes "My head is filled with lies I told" 🙂🙌😧

"The Freshmen" by The Verve Pipe "We tried to wash our hands of all of this We never talk of our lacking relationships And how we're guilt-stricken, sobbin', with our heads on the floor We fell through the ice when we tried not to slip, we'd say" Shall I say more?

Metallica

VIBES:

"Barracuda" by Heart, what can I say, this is something they'd be singing in the locker rooms

"Spiderwebs" by No Doubt ☝️

"Run Through the Jungle" by Credence Clearwater Revival Just listen to the song, it's so yellowjackets babes I promise 🙏

"Wish You Were Here" by Pink Floyd or performed by David Gilmour What can I say? We like a good song about reminiscing on past decisions and situations 🙂

"Hunger Strike" by Temple of the Dog

TOSS UPS/AMV AND EDIT SONGS FOR YOU BABES:

"Eat Your Young" by Hozier This is a toss up for me, honestly, maybe it should stay in the edits and amvs 🤷

Greta Van Fleet, something from those guys I KNOW YOU HEAR ME

i need to see a ship edit or AMV to "Will You" by P.O.D. or I think I will combust into a million small lesbian flag coloured confetti that will pollute the local waterways and spread doomed yuri in a bad way because I WANT THIS

The Smith's "Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now", it tickles my brain

"Rabbit Heart (Raise it Up)" by Florence + The Machine Obv, mainly for Jackie thou

Here's the link or you can find it up top at the beggining! On my Spotify you can find another Yellowjackets playlist based off of my first Lyrics post

@rougeclasslover here's the playlist I was talking about carp of the Misty Nation❤️

[sichore]

So a while ago, the server was on a Jane Austen kick and we had tons of fun, and I daresay we had our strongest round of writing yet. And because this is Metalocalypse, naturally we added zombies to the mix, incorporating the lore from Seth Grahame-Smith's trio of novels into that of the show and what we'd established across various AUs.

Paint the Sky chapter 3 is coming along... very slowly, but I've still been writing behind the scenes. Here's an offshoot of that Regency zombie drama in a scenario where Magnus isn't a cringe fail Scorpio.

(Magnus tends to be part of the overpowered and older group in these AUs and it's so fucking funny considering his canon and current incarnation ahahhhaha.)

Deth & Diligence: Shadowplay

Feat. Magjam (MagnusxOC) and mentions of Dr. Amomolith Chesterfield and OCs from @thatwritingho, @m3gahet, @the-loveliest-lotus and @mrfelixfischoeder.

As always, Jamila stands out amongst the rest of the gathered dancers like a spot of soot upon a fine dress. It's an unbecoming way to think of herself that Mary would scold her for, but it's hard not to think of, when her stone-faced partner endeavors to look anywhere but at her.

Mercifully, once the lilting notes of the string quartet fade and the final bow is made, he swiftly turns away in search of a more comely lady, and Jamila sinks back until she is as one with the shadows on the wall. Even here, she doesn't fit among the least handsome women in appearance.

Indeed, if the pearls were to fall from her hair, her tulle and fine silk replaced by rough linen, she would be invisible. Only standing out because she would be expected to be among the staff never to be seen. As much as Dr. Chesterfield may dress her up and present her as his most prized oddity, Jamila will never be British, never be highborn. Never be one of these high class vermin more concerned with riches and matchmaking than the hordes of undead ever threatening to overrun their dear England.

In that sense, she should take comfort in the fact that she is not vermin. But the terms in which Jamila defines herself are not so kind, and as she can hear the voices of Mary, Olive, Lucy, and Robin chiding her, she silences all thought instead.

She raises her eyes. Her father is preoccupied with conversing with other esteemed gentlemen, and appears to have run out of younger men to play at propriety with her. It's just as well. Truthfully, Jamila would rather be among the various mercenaries stationed outside the room, around the estate, keeping watch for dreadfuls. But Dr. Chesterfield only allows her to wield a blade when he can make a spectacle of her ‘savage’ origins; she wasn't even allowed her dagger tonight. Tonight, as on so many nights, Jamila plays the part of a lady.

And tired of playing as she is, she slides away from the wall, through the shadows, finding solace where none would dare look, and retreats to a nearby area that gives her a measure of peace.

The gallery, much like everything else about Jamila, is a space meant to advertise all that is her. Her life, her body, her art – all of it is up for sale, for consumption, displayed for the attention of men looking to devise any use they can out of her. She finds she rather hates the work once it is finished, wishing to destroy it rather than have it land in the hands of these white demons.

But while she is painting, for those few precious hours, there is only the brush, the canvas, and her. Images from her mind take form through paint and practiced strokes, bringing to life a world without violence, without lies. Just the peace of solitude.

The gentle clack of Jamila's low heels grow more audible as she moves away from the gathering and towards the gallery. The guests grow more sparse, finding fewer tucked away couples or wilting wallflowers, until she's alone once she reaches the door. Surely, her father won't notice her absence for a brief while.

There is near silence as Jamila closes the door behind her. She sighs, and before she can breathe in relief, her skin prickles in warrior instinct.

The gallery is quiet, but not empty, and she is not alone.

The man standing in the middle of the gallery is a slayer, as evident by the worn leather boots and coat he wears, if one could not tell from his stance. He appears lax, his hand on his hip rather than sword, but the slight lean of his body lets Jamila know that he's aware of her presence, and fears no threat.

She flushes in momentary embarrassment for not immediately being aware of the gallery being occupied. Though, considering the visitor, she should not be too harsh on herself.

He is tall as an oak, his presence drawing one's eye as a towering storm cloud does on the horizon. His prominent profile and rich, wavy hair instantly mark him as not British, and Jamila relaxes minutely. She knows this man. Knows of him, rather. The man recently returned from the Near East with his ill daughter, which is why he has been in the company of those Dr. Chesterfield does business with. Had been in the company of her warden himself, who was determined to ignore Jamila as nothing more than a mere prop. And in a wholly inappropriate – that is, thrilling – display, this man instead lavished Jamila without enough attention and praise to break through her practiced, stone-like demeanor, causing a faint blush to rise to her cheeks.

More than once over the course of the evening, Jamila's gaze has wandered to him. Not as a guest, no, but one among the shadows, a guard like the others on the outskirts of the ball. It was impossible not to notice him, towering above the pale elite, the only one besides herself with sun-kissed skin. Though she is darker than he, in appearance, if not demeanor.

Not one to be daunted, and within the prison she's made to call home no less, Jamila approaches the slayer: Magnus Hammersmith. In a show of defiance to no one besides herself, perhaps, she stops to stand at his side. The distance, or lack thereof, is not respectable, but she does not want to be seen as a lady at the moment. Jamila has sent more than enough of the unmentionable horde back to hell to fill the ball room to present herself as someone who, if not equal, is at the very least unafraid.

Besides, Magnus had already nigh embarrassed her with his honeyed compliments. It was only right she exact a sweet revenge of her own.

Still, it would be too forward to admire him so blatantly at this proximity, though Jamila does steal sidelong glances that reveal little more than the buttons of his coat. Instead, she turns her attention to the painting that has his apt attention.

It's dark. This painting has yet to find a buyer, the nature of it being so dim compared to her usual lush landscapes and blue skies. This one depicts a lake awash with the cloak of night, with even the moon obscured by the ebon veil. The only light to be found are in the stars, faint pinpricks of light, and the reflection in the small, cresting waves of the water.

Perhaps one with a keen eye, like a fellow slayer, could make out the other fine details to be found. The old tree stretched out from one side of the canvas. The lone swan curled and asleep on the bank. The faint sliver of the moon that is there.

Perhaps Magnus sees it. Jamila can only guess, as he has yet to speak or greet her in any way. And when she can take the silence no longer, and the warmth of his proximity – the scent of leather and cedar filling her nose – she breaks it with a small huff.

“I daresay you will find no dreadfuls within this painting,” she says. She casts her eyes askance, and the slight smirk that curls Magnus’ lips makes her hands twitch from where they are clasped before her.

“No,” he agrees. His voice reminds Jamila of the finest tea she's ever tasted; rich, dark, toasty, leaving her tongue just dry enough to ever want for another drink. “I'm sure I would have better luck without.”

“Or you could stay within. The pitiful undead do not lack for company.”

“But these walls do?”

“Perhaps.” Feeling color rise to her cheeks again, Jamila returns her attention to the painting. “Are you looking to purchase? This one has been continuously passed over for being too dark.”

“That's fortunate. My eye is not one for the fine arts like this, but even I can see that this should be admired, deeply. Not locked away by some stuffy aristocrat.”

“So you are not looking to buy.”

“No. Just admire, appreciate, for now.”

“The brighter ones are not to your liking?”

“They lack the depth of this one. And I’ve always been fond of that which is found in the shadows.”

“Such as fear? Horrors?”

“Secrets, comfort. Pleasure, even.”

Jamila ignores her instinct and turns her face towards Magnus. His gaze is fixated on her. She stands on his blind side, that eye glazed over like the moon in a naked sky, but the other is warm and brown and boring through her. Whatever Jamila wants to say next is stifled behind lips pressed tightly together.

Swallowing to ease her dry throat, she faces the painting again.