#╰ * 。tom park ━ interactions. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

compromised-emotionally · 3 months ago

Text

Racebending Interview with the Vampire: Power, Companionship and the Search for Freedom

I wrote a paper for a queer studies class that I'm kinda proud of. It's not particularly mindblowing as it was just a 200 level course, and it's kind of dry cause I was trying to stay formal. It's mostly just referencing other writings on race and queer studies and relating them to the show. It's about how the choice to racebend Louis deepens and transforms the thematic explorations of queerness in the original text. I wanted to share it below because I worked hard on it, even if no one reads this lol:

Racebending Interview with the Vampire: Power, Companionship and the Search for Freedom

Interview with the Vampire was originally a novel by Anne Rice, published in 1976. The novel told the story of a Louisiana plantation owner turned vampire named Louis de Pont du Lac, the French vampire named Lestat who was Louis’ maker, and the life they shared together. A film adaption was released in 1994 starring Brad Pitt as Louis and Tom Cruise as Lestat, that, like the book, displayed their relationship as deep but never explicitly sexual. It was not until the 2022 AMC television series that Louis and Lestat’s story was allowed to be explicitly romantic and sexual. The series was made further transformatively progressive with the casting of Black-British actor Jacob Anderson as Louis. In Disidentifications: Queers of Color and the Performance of Politics, Munoz stated “A soft multicultural inclusion of race and ethnicity does not, on its own, lead to a progressive identity discourse” (pg10). Rather than just using “color-blind” casting for empty representation, Louis’ character was changed from slave owner to a black Creole man in the early 20th century. The addition of racial elements deepened thematic explorations of the nonnormative. By racebending Louis, AMC’s Interview with a Vampire expands on the original works’ examination of the vampire as a societal “other” and metaphor for homosexuality as well as Louis’ struggle to assimilate to vampire life. It relates the power dynamics between Lestat and Louis as creator/created to racial dynamics and interlocking systems of oppression.

Episode 3 “Is My Very Nature That of the Devil” opens with Lestat and Louis sitting in a park, as Lestat pontificates about the history of that park and reads a column about its design in the newspaper. Louis replies asking if the story mentioned how they used to put the severed heads of runaway slaves on the gates, then ponders if there’s a “greater purpose” for vampires on Earth. Lestat does not take Louis seriously, telling Louis that only that he (Lestat) is his creator and he put him on this Earth for pleasure. This interaction is emblematic of their relationship throughout the show. Lestat repeatedly minimizes the importance and legitimacy of Louis’ struggles, both the external oppressions he faces and his internal struggle to adjust to vampiric life. Vampirism acts as a direct parallel to living a queer life in the original text, though that symmetry is more complicated in the series since there is also explicit queerness in the show. If humanity is the dominant, normative group in this universe, then Lestat’s approach to vampirism can be read as counteridentificatory. Lestat considers himself and Louis to be completely separate from human society, and has none of Louis’ impulses to assimilate with the human community or hold on to any ties to it. Louis, conversely, still values the things that were important to him before turning: his club, “appearances”, his relationship with his family. He decides in this episode that he no longer wants to kill people, that he will feed off of animals alone. Lestat interprets this as a Louis denying his “true” identity as both a vampire and a queer man, an attempt to assimilate and identify with humans while rejecting Lestat and their shared identity. In some ways this is understandable, as the drinking of blood within this text is explicitly linked to their sex drive. But Lestat is also continuously upset throughout this episode when Louis refers to the black community of New Orleans as “his people”. Despite the fact that Louis’ resilience and strength as a black man succeeding in a white world was one of the things that first attracted Lestat to Louis, he cannot comprehend why he still feels such kinship with the race he has always been a part of.

Lestat treated turning Louis into a vampire as if that would supersede or eliminate the other aspects of his identity. The only difference that mattered to Lestat was vampire vs human, paralleling Cohen’s critique of white queer activism that envisions the world in a hetero/queer divide (Cohen, pg 447). When Lestat turned Louis at the end of the first episode, part of his pitch and promise to him was that as a vampire, racial oppressions would no longer hold him back. Lestat’s proposal was that becoming a vampire would give him (Louis) the power to counteridentify from the racist system, as well as freedom from loneliness and companionship in the form of a life with Lestat. Throughout this episode, Louis is grappling with the lie of that promise. Though he has a physical strength and power of a vampire, he must still move through world as black man in the early 20th century and deal with all the indignities that come along with that. He is also lonelier than anticipated, with a partner who will not acknowledge their differences. Audra Lorde said this of difference “…community must not mean a shedding of our differences, nor the pathetic pretense that these differences do not exist” (pg 112). E. Patrick Johnson expounds further on this in his article on quare studies, explaining that such communities and theories are not progressive ones, and that LGBTQ of color cannot afford to adopt such theories for themselves.

Louis begins working to integrate the different aspects of himself and his new immortal life into a theory of self that feels true to his experience and acceptable, feeling “the tug and pull of having to choose between which parts […] to claim and wear and which parts have served to cloak us from the knowledge of ourselves” (Moraga and Anzaldua, pg 23). Louis reunites with an old lover, a black soldier passing through on his way to deployment. They have sex out in the Bayou and Louis feels some true companionship, but this is followed by a series of emotionally fraught failures that isolate and disempower him further. He is rejected by and frightens his family. He gets news that his nightclub/brothel is being shut down due to segregationist laws. Lestat throughout this is throwing a temper tantrum over Louis’ dalliance with the solder, despite being the one to open the relationship and begin an affair with the singer at Louis’ club (a white woman). Lestat’s reaction here, paired with the way he shows his disdain for Louis’ choices throughout this episode, display how unsettled Lestat is when he is not in control of Louis, when Louis acts as an independent equal rather than adoring student. Louis pushes aside Lestat’s attention grabbing antics in favor of meeting with a group of white businessmen and politicians in an attempt to save his club. He had interacted with this group before regularly, in a manner that could be viewed as dis-identificatory. He had regular poker games with them, laughing at their jokes, sometimes letting them win, while simultaneously influencing their opinions and nudging them towards social policies that would help him “working on, with, and against a cultural form” (Munoz, pg 12). Johnson’s piece on Quare theory points out that disidentification has always been “the process through which people of color could survive a white supremacist society” (pg12). He gave them a performance of “Mr. Du Lac”, a version of himself that made them comfortable enough to for him to influence their opinions and actions toward him and his businesses. But his previous tactics are no longer working; he can hear the thoughts of the white men insulting and demeaning him while they outwardly suggest that Lestat acts as “the face” of his business. It is also an interesting visual note that Lestat is framed throughout this scene alongside the other white men in the room, despite theoretically coming to support Louis. The degrading tone of their thoughts as they offer outward sympathies suggests that Louis’ tactics with them were always more assimilating and conforming than he wished them to be. If his persona and his performance with them never actually gained him any respect, than perhaps this was little more than a minstrel show.

The beginning of the Munoz essay states:

[…] disidentification is not always an adequate strategy of resistance or survival for all minority subjects. At times, resistance needs to be pronounced and direct; on other occasions queers of color and minority subjects need to follow a conformist path if they hope to survive a hostile public sphere. pg 5.

Louis’ initial response to this realization was a type of malicious compliance: hanging a “coloreds only” sign on his establishment, thereby technically following segregationist wishes. This of course only brings further retaliation from the establishment. Louis’ final response to this situation is his first and most direct counter action He declares himself a vampire for the first time aloud, scaring the alderman and letting him feel powerless for the first time. He kills the man, and hangs his body on a fence with a whites only sign (likely the same fence where the heads of runaway slaves were once posted). But Louis does not get to revel in this at all, as it brings immediate retaliation via the burning of the black neighborhood and businesses of New Orleans. Lestat instead is the ecstatic one; he believes this act of violence is a sign that Louis has finally embraced only vampirism, still misunderstanding the reasons and meaning behind Louis’ rage that drove him to murder the alderman. It pushes Louis away from Lestat again, roaming the burning streets of the place he once belonged, lost and unsure of what the correct approach is to finding community, home, and freedom. Louis wavers, unclear and undecided on how to find this meaning (the writing asks the same; his attempts to play friendly brought only mockery and his show of rebellion brought destruction). It is not until he suddenly hears the voice of Claudia, a 14-year-old Creole girl crying out in his mind for help, that he seems to find an answer. He finds her dying in a burning boarding house and brings her to Lestat to be turned into a vampire. The become a family – “Daddy Lou” “Uncle Les” and Claudia.

There’s so much to examine in this series even when just considering Louis’ relationship with Lestat and the world around him. But it would be an oversight to not spend some time on Claudia, who would become the guiding motivation and emotional core for Louis. Because Lestat is the one who turned both Louis and Claudia, he is unable to read either of their minds. This further eats at Lestat, this companionship which he cannot share, this difference that he cannot stamp out. After accidentally killing a boy she loved, Claudia grows resentful of the immortal life they’ve subjected her to (Episode 104). Her mind grows but she stays perpetually trapped in the mind of a teenager, and she begrudges being made permanently infantilized. She leaves them to travel on her own and try to learn more about vampires than the little information that Lestat offered. But when she finally meets another vampire and is excited to find kinship, he rapes her. After this, she decides to return home, but only to retrieve Louis, who has been depressed without her. She recognizes the truth that Audra Lorde stated in Sister Outsider:

Without community there is no liberation, only the most vulnerable and temporary armistice between an individual and her oppression. Pg112

She is unwilling to trust Lestat, who has continuously demonstrated an unwillingness to grow, to empathize, to “recognize those differences and deal effectively with the distortions…” (Lorde, pg 122). Lestat reacts to the threat of abandonment with a great act of domestic violence, beating Louis and dropping him from the sky, which almost kills him (Episode 105). Louis eventually forgives Lestat for this in the next episode, but Claudia does not. Though all three characters share the nonnormative vampire identity, Lestat chooses to wield his status as their maker as an oppressive tool against them. All three become more feared and hated as the series goes on. Their home is vandalized on multiple occasions, and it’s made clear by the end of the series that they will need to leave town. But despite this shared struggle, Lestat cannot or will not stand in solidarity with Louis and Claudia. “…our future survival is predicated on our ability to relate within equality” (Lorde 122). Louis’ condition for forgiving Lestat was that he was honest and treated both Louis and Claudia as equals. But Lestat values his control over their lives over having them as true companions, even after promising change; he lies and manipulates them both and threatens Claudia with sexual violence (via letting her know he can invite the vampire who raped her to their home).

Change means growth, and growth can be painful. But we sharpen self-definition by exposing the self in work and struggle together with those whom we define as different from ourselves, although sharing the same goal. Lorde, pg. 123

Claudia changes and grows the most over the course of the series, beginning as a child but gaining maturity and intelligence as she experiences the pain and joy the world has to offer. She desires freedom for the first time in her human or immortal life, and feels that both her and Louis can achieve it if they work to free themselves at last from Lestat as a master. By the end of Episode 106, she has finally convinced Louis of the same.

Anne Rice’s Interview with a Vampire was already an intriguing piece of queer media that was progressive for its time and how it used vampirism as a vehicle to explore homosexuality, struggle, and longing. In the behind-the-scenes interview piece, producer Adam O’Byrne expressed the production’s desire to reckon with the media in a new way, as they were a new generation interpreting this art. Johnson stated: “quare studies offers a more utilitarian theory of identity politics, focusing not just on performers and effects, but also on contexts and historical situatedness” (pg13). With this new reckoning and interpretation of this media, the artistic team took a piece of queer media and transformed it into “Quare”. With all the inherent complexities of racial relations examined in this interpretation, the audience is able to explore the dynamics of power, freedom, longing and companionship in a deeper and more complicated way than was offered in the original text.

Bibliography

Ep 103 “Is My Very Nature That of a Devil” Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, teleplay by Rolin Jones & Hannah Moscovitch, directed by Keith Powell, AMC Studios, 2022.

Ep 104 “…the ruthless pursuit of blood with all a child’s demanding” Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, teleplay by Eleanor Burgess, directed by Keith Powell, AMC Studios, 2022.

Ep 105 “A vile hunger for your hammering heart” Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, teleplay by Colin Albert, directed by Levan Akin, AMC Studios, 2022.

Ep 106 “Like Angels Put in Hell by God” Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, teleplay by Hannah Moscovitch, directed by Levan Akin, AMC Studios, 2022.

Ep 8.1 “Interview with the Vampire: Behind the Scenes” Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire, AMC Studios, 2022.

Lorde, Audra. Sister Outsider, The Crossing Press, Year, pgs. 110-123.

Munoz, Jose Esteban. Disidentifications: Queers of Color and the Performance of Politics, Minneapolis: The University of Minnesota Press, 1999.

E. Patrick Johnson (2001) "Quare" studies, or (almost) everything I know about

queer studies I learned from my grandmother, Text and Performance Quarterly, 21:1, 1-25, DOI: 10.1080/10462930128119

Cathy J. Cohen; Punks, Bulldaggers, and Welfare Queens: The Radical Potential of Queer Politics?. GLQ 1 May 1997; 3 (4): 437–465. doi: https://doi.org/10.1215/10642684-3-4-437

Moraga and Anzaldua, Entering the Lives of Others Theory in the Flesh, 23

#amc iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #iwtv s1 #academic writing #queer studies #race and ethnicity #claudia iwtv #warning this isn't exactly lestat friendly #i love him but hes the villain of s1 #also this was written before seeing s2 #which kind of some of these themes or at least they are less in focus #probably because the s2 villain is brown (again love armand but hes the villain at this point)#interview with the vampire

29 notes · View notes

elioslover · 1 year ago

Text

Little Angel, Only Freak? - Grapejuice, Halloween.

🎃 Halloween Flashbacks 🎃

This can be read as a stand-alone piece! 👻 I've really been wanting to include some flashback moments from Harry and Klutz's past, so I thought Halloween would be the perfect place to start!

Premise: Harry has been pining over Y/n - his best friends slightly older sister - for as long as he can remember.

GRAPEJUICE MASTERPOST / Other Writing

NB! Y/n's (Klutz) brother's name is Jack. In Grapejuice it's mentioned that Harry may have wrote some songs about Klutz. These events were inspired specifically by two of his masterpieces lmao, so lemme know if you notice any references hehe. - Em. xo

Warnings: Drinking/smoking (this oneshot contains quite a bit due to the fact that they are attending a lot of Halloween parties). Age-gap (2yrs). Self-insert she/her.

Word count: 5.4k

🍷 2011 🍷

Sitting with your legs criss-crossed, on the kitchen counter which is perhaps the highest off of the ground you are most comfortable with. Your firm belief in keeping your feet on the soil, neither under deep waters nor up in the air.

That aside, you are eating a toastie, courtesy of your own cooking- rather surprised that not only did you manage to get ready on time, but actually finished with plenty to spare.

Indulging in your meal, the sound of Travis Scott accompanying your chewing, Harry's sudden appearance in the kitchen is startling, but nothing out of the ordinary. Besides, there have been plenty of worse and compromising interactions in the past.

“Aren’t you too old to be trick-or-treating?” You mumble through your food-filled mouth, eyeing him from top to bottom, shamefully admiring his choice of costume. Perhaps you were a sucker for a sexy pirate- though a large part of you believes the 'sexy' part was unintentional.

Harry only smiles and meanders further into the kitchen, invading the fridge for god knows what before giving up, strolling over to you, invading your space in an instant and with audacity you have never witnessed prior, he snatches the half-devoured triangle of a toastie and takes a hearty bite before speaking through muffled chews,

“Age is but a construct.”

“I guess I agree.” You shrug, thoughts travelling to the dangerously explicit fantasies you experienced at the mere existence of Tom Hard, your brain concocting a dreamland in which a 15-year age gap would be graciously welcomed.

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Harry archives the moment. An entirely separate dreamland surrounds him and yourself. But, you still seem so far away, Harry is aching to extend the conversation, “Where are you off to, a Tarantino-themed party?”

“That my dear, is none of your business.”

“Well for what it’s worth,” he informs both sweetly and sultry, “you make a beautiful *Viper.”

“You’re not so bad yourself, Styles.” You open the gates and let your guard down, needing him to know you notice him- see him, and if vulnerability is the way to make that clear, god willing, something inside you wishes to share it.

Harry is stunned- your words are one thing, your tone is another. He wants, no, he needs to hear your softness, again and again. Then there is an invasive double honk and it can only belong to the red Mazda parked in the driveway, stark headlights shining through the kitchen curtains.

You hop off the counter without a care in the world, straighten out your costume, and check your makeup in the reflection of the microwave before strolling straight past Harry and into the entrance hall, grabbing your matching purse. You raise your voice to address both your brother and the sexy pouting pirate stunned to silence,

“That’s my ride." Certain they've both heard, you open the front door and as an afterthought, call over your shoulder, "Save me a Mars bar!”

👻

The boys are in line for the entrance to a club that Jack stated would be "popping", but there is a clear age limit and Harry's anxiety is already reaching its limit. He turns to Darth Vader- ignoring how ridiculous his friend is- and Harry cautiously ponders aloud,

“Are you sure we’re even gonna get in?”

“Trust me.” Jack sternly enforces.

“What is this hold you have over me?” Harry concedes.

By what could either be deemed a miracle or exceptional finesse, it's not long before the boys have their left wrists stamped with a small ink jack-o-lantern, and are entering the club.

“See! Am I ever wrong?” Jack projects against the booming bass, but Harry certainly hears him, more focused on the dissipating nerves being replaced with confidence.

“Drinks!” Jack doesn't allow a retort, making his way to the bar with the assurance that Harry is following close behind. Harry was, and after a few other patrons are tended to, the boys order their choices and cheer a duet of tequilas in celebration of their success.

The tequila is still travelling down Harry's throat when a voice, so sweet and so familiar, almost causes him to choke, his eyes opening, neck dropping to look at the person who had exclaimed "Oi!". Unsurprisingly, you are standing there, arms on your hips, a look of disappointment painted across your face,

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“To be fair, I didn’t expect you to be here either.” Jack shrugs.

“I thought you were trick-or-treating, Jack." You chide.

“Oh, please, we’re seventeen. You knew that was a cover.” His eye-rolls with a jovial smirk.

“Still. I thought at least a house party.”

“Which is exactly where you said you would be.”

“Shut up.” Your last line of defence.

“C’mon, Y/n. Go have fun, it’ll be like we’re not even here.”

With a dissatisfied sigh, you grab your drink from the bar counter and gather within the group of girls all dressed with glamorous uniqueness, disappearing into the mass of dancers, praying that Jack’s statement would prove correct.

But, as expected, this promise was broken within the first hour after the desperate need for a Marlboro was lulling in your lungs, and for some useless and godforsaken reason, smoking is banned from the bar and dancefloor- bar vaping- however, due to the lack of an outside area, the designated smoking zone was the hallway.

After a trip to the bathroom- which had vanity counters, ladies waiting near the cashmere wash towels to unnecessarily aid in drying your hands; each bathroom is garnished with gold framing and every stall comes with a little glass table attached to the wall; perfect for cutting lines of coke- you decided it was time to settle down for a good smoke, spotting an empty, luxurious maroon and velvet two-seater sofa.

Your focus is on the ridiculous custom silver bear lighter you bought second-hand, your head bowed, smoke balanced between your lips, so it comes as a great surprise when you glance up and Harry is standing before you. By the time your cigarette sets alight, he is settled next to you on the lounger,

“Fancy seeing you here.” He teases lazily.

“You lost Jack?” You shift your body to better see him, simultaneously handing him your smoke.

“Always do.” He softly chuckles, knuckles brushing your fingertips in exchange, and he takes a good drag, hoping it will miraculously cure the anxiety that seemed to return the moment he found himself alone.

“That guy’s a menace.”

"This is the strangest hallway I've ever seen." He comments, glancing around the room of scattered stoners and straight smokers. Then he remembers the house he visited less than three hours ago, "And that's saying something."

"Our hallway is not that bad." You lamely defend- this conversation has been ongoing since youth.

"Can't believe we're sitting on a chez lounge." Harry marvels, hand stroking at the smooth material.

"This place truly is something." You agree, proceeding to ponder the answer to a premonition she needs confirmation for, “What are you doing over here?”

“Just needed a breather.” He admits. “You?”

“Guess I’m doing the same.” You consider.

“What’s the matter, klutz?” He reads your mood like a medium- some sort of magician.

“Boys are shitty.” You allow him the tip of the ice burg- it has been bugging you, perhaps not as much as the other things bothering and plaguing you.

“We are.” He agrees lightly, knowing it would be detrimental to pry.

“You aren’t. most of the time, anyway.”

“I thought I was the most annoying person you know.”

“You are. Maybe ever.” You dramatise your distaste, “But you are by no means shitty.”

For a reason Harry had always known, yet never questioned, he found your presence as relaxing as falling asleep cradled by a fluffy cloud. He briefly wonders if you feel the same, but knows better than to embrace hope. Nevertheless, he says what he can guarantee will suit your interesting demeanour,

“I’m sorry about… whatever you’re going through.”

“Thanks, Harry.” You smile earnestly as the pair of you proceed to pass the cigarette back and forth, comfortable in the presence of taking a cool-down.

But, with your vulnerability out in the open, it becomes mandatory to verify the reason he is currently sitting beside you,

“Why aren’t you down there?”

Harry knew it was coming, thought about what to say, and came up with a few reasonable excuses but as soon as the question leaves your quirked and lush lips, the truth comes pouring out and he cannot do anything but witness his honesty,

“I feel out of my element.”

“That’s all in your head.” You try to reassure him, knowing it isn’t that simple, yet hoping he might allow you the chance to prove it, even for just a moment.

“Oh, is that right?” He smirks.

You are standing before he can blink twice, singing your cigarette in the ashtray and reaching your arm out for him to join you,

“C’mon, I’ll show you.”

He doesn’t protest- he doesn’t even hesitate as he wraps his hand in your own, raising from the chair and allowing you to drag him wherever you please.

This results in descending stairs, weaving through a crowd before finally reaching the destination; the bar. He shouldn’t be surprised, but the pleasure and subconscious pride he wore as you tugged him about, moving closer, sometimes a few steps apart, but never letting go of his hand- even if only one finger was hooked to his own.

The bartender arrives with such haste that Harry is almost certain it has something to do with your beauty- it does- but mere moments later he finds out that you are in fact a regular visitor- and a loved one, at that.

Harry is so enamoured and floored with such an overload of new information about you that he hardly registers when you tilt over the counter and order four tequilas.

And when the tequila arrives, there are five, offered as, ‘on the house’. Your reaction is mischievous and Harry feels exhilarated at the promise of your mission to make his night memorable.

“Bottoms up.” You command, double-parking and encouraging Harry to wrap both of his shot glasses in each palm. He does as follows, giving you awkward cheers before copying your skill and tossing back the tequila one after the other. You then guide Harry to drop both glasses on the table and immediately grab the lonesome shot glass, still filled to the brim.

You go in for half a sip, savouring the sharp spirits slipping down your throat but leaving half the glass full. Handing it over to Harry he finishes the drink and turns to you in anticipation for further instructions. Your shoulders can’t resist a consequential shudder, and then you clap your hands together and cheekily beam up at him,

“Now, we dance.”

“I can’t dance.” His pitch is one of panic and protest.

“Neither can I.” You answer proudly, wrapping his hand in your own and leading him onto the dancefloor.

🍷 2016 🍷

Your boyfriend has caused yet another scene, taking it personally when some poor guy dressed as a zombie accidentally stepped on his foot.

Before he had the chance to toss more furniture, you plan an escape and make a beeline for the kitchen- somewhere likely to be devoid of party-goers. But when you round the corner, the sight of Harry, dressed in a white and red striped shirt, hair quaffed beneath a goofy matching beanie, and eyes framed by large, black round glasses. He's sitting on the counter, his light jean-clad legs dangling, shoes knocking against the bottom cabinets.

He seems too calm for such a festive evening, especially when he is as notorious as Jack when it comes to turning into a playful nuisance- affectionate, chatty, and likely to end up attempting to dance.

You walk straight over, only coming to a halt when your sternum presses into his knees, and beneath those gaudy glasses, you don't miss the way his deep green eyes swell and his lashes bash beautifully with bafflement.

"Ah, here's Waldo." You beam up at him.

"Y'got me." He lightly shrugged, a sneaky smile painting his cheeks.

"What do I win?"

Eyes widening with an accompanying Chesire cat smile, your tone tainted with taunting cheeriness. But, nonsensically you lean in closer, bare abdomen grazing his denim.

Whether intentional or not, Harry is set alight, his burning knees spreading along his stomach, trailing up his chest, simmering his heart and throat, coals burning at his cheeks and brain. He is so stoned on placebo, that his mouth is unable to project his profession,

"Anything you want."

You are experiencing first-degree burns, bathing yourself in diversion,

"Are these your real glasses?" You lean your face forward, lining up with his own, your hands gently clasping the black frames and examining the determined false lenses. "Guess not."

There are less than zero reasons for your bodies to remain so stuck, relaxed in the sanctuary of physical contact, but neither of you makes an attempt to move, unaddressed and absolutely mad. You deem it time to turn things around,

"Avoiding the party?"

"A little." He shrugs.

"Bad company?"

"The worst." He tilts his chin to the ceiling before returning his gaze to your own, "Though I can't imagine I'm much better."

"Anything is better than the mess going on outside." You meet his pondersome eyes with a competitive roll of your own.

Now Harry understands the crash he had heard through the kitchen window. Your expressions of annoyance and disappointment emit all of the information he needs to know,

"Dickie acting up again?"

"You know that's not his name."

"It should be."

Harry has never shied away from expressing his distaste for your boyfriend- simply because you were dating him. Harry was hardly around, and when he was, you were almost guaranteed to be absent due to plans with Ricky.

With a sudden bough of frustration, your hands press into Harry's upper thighs to properly balance yourself. he does everything- and more- to avoid physically reacting to your unusual closeness. You breathe out and it matches the mournful furrow of your brow,

"He's just... why does he have to be so aggressive?"

"Yeah, that table certainly didn't deserve that." Harry leans in, looking down at you with a worrisome but sensitive demeanour. And then he leaps and lightly wraps his hand around your hip.

His eyes are studying your soft face, his heart focused on your sweet features and the feeling of your skin separated by his clothes, but his head is still stuck on the confusion currently holding you captive. He can't help by prying,

"He's not... aggressive with you, right?"

"Not yet." The words trail off of your tongue. And then you toss everything aside, pressing your fingers into his thigh "I don't wanna talk about it right now."

Harry doesn't know how to react, sudden shocks of arousal emulating at the discomfort of your digging nails, the desperate desire to destroy the distance between your lips, loop his arm around your neck, softly cup your cheek and express how special you should be treated- with such certainty that you never forget,

"I like your costume. Might be your best so far."

It definitely is, you are rather impressed with how well your Other Mother costume turned out. Though, your already tragic bank account has taken a traumatic bashing,

"I spent way too much money on it."

"How much?" His grin is mischievous.

"Too much."

"Now I have to know." He pleads, but know you will never utter the shame you suffer. He won't let you off the hook so easy, though, "Just to rub it in, I'll have you know, I only spent three pounds."

You huff, leaning further into his touch, enjoying the feeling of his fingers on your flesh. He has to tilt to see you fully, and you aid him craning your neck to meet him in the middle, dismissing the deemed unnecessary distance,

"Well, you've done a terrible job at making it hard to find you."

"Maybe I wanted you to find me." He shrugs with suave.

"That was ambitious."

"It worked, yeah?" He is seeping with playful pride, though he cannot prevent his need to compliment you- perhaps the only way to get his attraction across was through words, true words at that, "You really do look beautiful."

"Not just sexy?"

"Sexy as fuck." He groans, fingers pressing into the plush fleshyness of your waist, "But not just sexy."

"Filthy." You scold seductively.

And then you seem to find yourself sinking further into his touch, trying with everything in you to get nearer- his neck so biteable, collarbone begging for loving bruises. Harry is on the same page, body pressing into your own, his palm trailing up and settling on your lower back.

You think he might kiss you. You think you are out of your mind... But, you think you're going to let him. The only thing to pause your seemingly-senseless thoughts is the defensive, stern, and frankly, threatening boom of your boyfriend,

"Hey, what the fuck are you doing with my girl?"

Like velcro being violently ripped apart, you have never moved with such haste in all of your current existence to date. Harry is now at least three feet away from you, and your boyfriend is berzerkly striding towards him. Harry calmly and rationally raises his palms in defence,

"Nothing, mate."

"Ricky-" You edge closer.

But, your boyfriend has already aimed his fist at Harry's face, and instead of reacting with returned aggression, he interjects,

"Mate, chill out." Harry reasons with a casual shrug, "She's like a sister to me."

An invasive feeling of disappointment pangs at your heart at the sound of sister, and to this day you will not analyse why. It was something you were guaranteed to repeat in the future.

"Am I supposed to believe that?" Ricky scoffs but his arm drops to his side nevertheless.

Harry hops off of the counter with ease, stepping past your boyfriend with effortless confidence. He glances over at you for a mere instance- not long enough for you to comprehend the event that just unfolded.

He reaches over to the nearest countertop and grabs his solo-cup and before turning his back completely, he addresses Ricky with finality,

"Believe what you want, Batman."

🍷 2018 🍷

Harry knocks for a third time before Jack finally answers the door- and when he does, dressed Pennywise- a red balloon tied to his wrist- Harry instantly regrets his entire life, attempting to prepare for a chaotic Halloween party. Whenever Jack finds himself in an extravagant, far-too-detailed costume, two things are certain; there will be a magically, monstrous punch bowl, and Jack will be dancing on any piece of furniture that catches his eye.

“So, this was your last-minute decision?” Harry works hard to keep the disturbed feelings from projecting across his features.

“It was this or Heisenburg, okay?” Jack sighs, audatiously comparing his- what can only be described as a slutty Pennywise to simply purchasing a hazmat.

“How much time did you spend on this?” Harry finds his amusement increasing.

“Too long.” Jack admits with distaste. But all in all, This is the best of his costumes to date, and Harry certainly agrees.

“I’m sure the ladies will love it.” He commends, and Jack nods avidly, his face mimicking that of confidence.

Harry ponders halfheartedly as they enter the home Harry knows so well- the home he spent at least a quarter of his 28 years. It's only as he reaches the living room, packed with both familiar and unfamiliar faces. Many of them seem older than he, and Harry can only assume these are friends of Jack’s college, and your work colleagues.

A pang of panic threatens to become a full-blown wave of disappointment and regret. Missing out on the life he could have had.

Before he can be swept away by his newfound unfamiliarity, Jack has led them to the makeshift bar- a dining table decorated with spooky decorations, all surrounding the notorious monster of the eve- the Halloween punch. Harry doesn’t protest- by this point he deems it necessary.

Lightly tapping their cups together in cheers. Jack takes a hearty sip before his brows suddenly raise in realization,

“Huh. That’s funny.” Jack finally takes a moment to acknowledge his best friend, emulating the Devil himself.

“Hm?” Harry asks halfheartedly, eyes scanning the room for something and he doesn’t even know what.

“I just noticed your costume.”

Harry’s gaze snaps back to Jack, giving him a puzzled look, masking a sudden bough of insecurity simmering beneath the surface,

“I look funny?”

“No, Y/n told me she was gonna be an Angel. Coincidence, huh?” Jack shrugs.

“Is she here?” Harry tries to hide the sudden panic.

“Not yet. You know she’s gonna lose her mind over it.” Jack grins, always bemused by the so-called banter between his sister and best friend.

Harry’s panic is substituted by an odd sense of relief- he now knows what- or who- he had been searching for. With a bough of mischievous confidence, he mimics his best friend's grin and informs,

“Just what I wanted to hear.”

👻

Upon the news of his holy crush’s imminent arrival, Harry finishes his first punch cup and then heads towards the ‘bar’ to pour another.

Pleasantly, someone is already attending to the punch- an old teammate from his high school football team has the same intentions, finishing up on filling his cup before recognizing Harry and enthusiastically initiating a catch-up. One that proves helpful, replacing his thoughts of you with good conversation and in turn, allows him to react.

It’s unclear how long this chat persisted as the boys moved from the make-shift bar to a spot on the porch- already scattered with smokers and an extremely tense game of beer-pong.

Eventually, the punch has caught up with him and Harry has to excuse himself in favour of the bathroom. This should be an easy enough task, but this monstrous punch has proved poisonous as it lags his movements and encourages him to take a long, good look at himself in the cobweb-framed mirror.

Impressed with his costume, and impressed with how calm and cheery he felt. Things don’t seem so bad- the intrusive thoughts were offering silence for the sake of letting him have a good time.

His best friend’s home has always had the oddest of hallways. A complicated combination of narrow to wide, with unnecessary corners and nooks. These proved sacred during the times of childhood, the perfect place to out-smart the person trying to yell, ‘Tag, you’re it!’ Now, this hallway is treacherous and Harry longs to find himself back in the living room, especially with the amount of party-goers crowding the corridor.

Looking back, Harry wonders if he would have even seen you wedged between a pair of what seems to be Cersei and Jaime Lannister. It would be hard not to, with the way the shimmering satin dress and the sparkling halo create a ring of glory around you.

But you certainly see him, meandering down the hallway dressed in a costume to match your own. Your first feeling should be annoyance, but unfortunately, your thoughts are redirected to just how good he looks.

The duo you were humouring are a thing of the past as you mutter an “excuse me”- gaze and mind already set on intercepting Satan himself.

He’s leaning against the wall- being extra careful to not knock over any picture frames. His head is bowed, contemplating his next move and it suddenly and forcefully occurs to him that his original plan to find you was diverted by a pointless side-quest.

As if the thin veil of Halloween was thoughtful enough to grant him instant gratification, a set of white heels, laced to the upper calf is walking his way. He lets his eyes trail the length of soft thighs up to the seams of lacy trim, savouring each fleshy, smooth thigh before finally addressing the owner's face.

When his eyes are met with your own, glittering with each blink, Harry’s widen in surprise, jaw threatening to slack as you stop before him. Giving him a good glance before mimicking his stance and balancing yourself against the wall.

“Well, well, well.” Your tone is both amused and annoyed.

A sudden rush of ease and euphoria washes over him at the coolness of your mood- though, that was subject to change rather quickly in the presence of Harry.

On a whim you attribute to both a poisonous punch and the devil standing before you, Harry is taken off guard by the sudden contact of your palm on his chest, even more, surprised as you push and guide him into the nearest alcove.

But that was as far as your thoughts had progressed, what was the plan now? This is a result of impulsivity, and when you concede and don’t go on to say anything further, Harry takes the opportunity to back you into the corner, arms balancing loosely on the wall near your face.

“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?” His smile is cheesy.

“I’m sure you’re enjoying this.” Your eyes roll, arms crossing your chest in distaste.

Harry tilts down ever so slightly, aligning his lips with the shell of your ear,

“Loving it.”

“And I’m supposed to believe this is just a coincidence?”

“Believe what you want, Angel.”

He returns to his previous position, aching to get a better look at your face, hoping that the blush pink scattered across your cheeks is a product of not makeup, but himself. You cannot admit that it’s a combination of both- not even to yourself- instead opting for a classic eye-roll and continuing to do what you do best,

“I see you chose to go costume-less this year.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“You’re the Devil.” You try, “Truly.”

By now, your hands have dropped to your sides, securing distance but still unexplainably allowing Harry the chance to wander closer if he wishes. He does, but only enough for your chests to brush, his head bowed to gaze your way, one of his hands reaching out to fiddle with the accessory adorning your head,

“Why, because I make you want to ditch that pretty little halo?”

“You’re insane.” You chide, palm raising to his abdomen in protest.

“And you want me.” He articulates with certainty.

“Correction, you’re psychotic.”

But you like the feeling of his muscles tensing beneath your hold, the musky and fruity aroma invading your senses. The curve where his shoulder and neck meet is aligned with your chin, and for a split second, you ponder the impulse to get closer, latch your lips to his skin and sink your teeth in.

Harry likes having you so near, he can smell the Chanel and cocoa butter seeping from your skin, the crown of your head smells of something fruity and fresh. And when your hand absentmindedly trails further along his stomach, settling on his shoulder, Harry almost stops breathing when his impulses get the best of him, wrapping his free arm around your waist, and when you don’t protest and your free arm goes to rest along his shoulder, he thinks he might have a chance,

“Are you sure, pretty Angel? Your body seems to think otherwise.”

“Shut up, Harry.”

“You’re more than welcome.” he smirks, loving the way your eyes simmer with conflict, “…To shut me up, that is.”

You decide that fame has done a lot to him, not just the typical singing, stadiums and superstardom, so why the hell is he talking like a… man? Like he knows how to seduce a woman, and why the fuck does that make your stomach churn with curiosity.

But, you remind yourself that age equals experience and that makes you the superior. Besides, from the way he’s currently behaving, you have an inkling that his ego has likely inflated.

This could be fun. Two could play at this game, and no matter the amount of fraternizing Harry may have committed, you were competitively and egotistically prepared to knock him down a peg.

Raising to the tip of your toes, hand tightening on his shoulder, nails softly scratching at his back, your other hand reaching to wrap around his neck, your thumb stroking the crook of his chin. Batting your eyelashes with a lick of the lips, you ensure he hears each and every word,

“Is that what you want, sweet boy?” You coo, and Harry stiffens in an instant, blinking rapidly as you push on, “Want me to take care of you?”

“You can do whatever you want.” He blurts out before the ‘ou’, fist flexing against the wall, his body aching to be tangled up with your own.

It's cute, and unnecessarily arousing, and as much as you know you shouldn’t, there’s an ache in your chest that chants for you to crumb him along for just a little longer,

“Pity. After all, this is just a costume.”

“Prove it.”

His eyes are eager, nose bumping along your forehead, and your hand comes to its finale as it holds his cheek in place, gently pulling his face nearer to your own. You pout, but the sly smirk prints itself at the corners of your lips nevertheless,

“A Devil certainly isn't deserving.”

“Prove it anyways.”

Harry thinks he’s about two sentences away from begging for something he didn’t know he needed so desperately. As much as it pains you to put a pin in this, the confusion of juxtaposition of attraction is threatening to make you light-headed.

“No.”

So, to Harry’s utter dismay, you release him from your hold and tactfully slip out between the space you once occupied. With one more sympathetic pat on his shoulder, you smile at him and make your way back down the hallway, feathered wings taunting him in your wake.

🍷 2019 🍷

Harry was lucky enough to have been in town for Halloween- he can't count how many holidays he missed over the last half-decade. He’s dressed as her favourite thing; a teddy bear- fuzzy ears and makeup to match. Your brother, Jack was hosting his famously chaotic annual Halloween celebration, and Harry was far too giddy at the guarantee of seeing you again. He can't count the missed holidays, but he can certainly count how many years it’s been since you last spoke- mar the quick birthday wishes, and periodic congratulations and praise.

But, after an hour or so, he is starting to doubt his certainty, gaze shamelessly studying the room, hoping he had merely missed your arrival. Two solo cups of warm beer later, Harry is itching to locate you- this is your tradition after all, and he was so sure that this time would end differently, that she would finally see him for the man he was becoming.

He definitely wouldn’t be asking Jack why you weren’t here- partially because he seems preoccupied with a makeshift gravity bong. Instead, Harry seeks out one of your oldest friends, Nova, who is dressed as a Harley Quinn, but before he can even reach the group in which she mingles, his boot trips on a rug and unable to help it, the contents of his cup comes spilling out, splashing and coating Nova’s front with the sticky substance. After apologising profusely- even if just to come off polite- Harry musters up the humility to ponder your lack of presence.

Disheartened and disappointed when she responds with, “She’s in Italy”, Harry is once again confused by Jack’s lack of mentioning the news. Though none of his business, the dichotomy of standing his ground and avoiding the question versus caving in and simply asking Jack has him in quite the frenzy.

The rest of the evening is a bore- Harry switches to ginger ale, and though he attempts to mingle, maintaining interest proves to be impossible, and for the first time, Harry makes the decision to head home early.

But, now, with a make-up-free face and his favourite jammies, he is tucked beneath the fluffiest sheets and your mere existence is pulling the sheets tighter, trapping him in a series of thoughts of yours truly, thinking about you.

146 notes · View notes

wannaeatramyeon · 2 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I request a love triangle headcannons with Johan & Eli? Thank you in advance 💙

I'll be honest. My response is late but I have been thinking a lot about this dynamic ever since I've seen this. In a word: stressful.

Have... whatever the hell this is. And thanks for requesting anon!

Johan Seong/Reader/Eli Jang love triangle hc

This is not a joke. In this essay I will...

Yikes, you're really picking the two with the lowest tolerance for romantic bullshit?

Listen. Any sort of love triangle involving Johan Seong is the worst kind of headache you can ever imagine. See - one night of PAID FRIENDSHIP with Jace Park.

This guy does. not. share.

You really don't want to bring out those sort of mushy squishy feelings from Johan and not fully reciprocate it. What's worse though, is he will not confess so you have to be observant and perceptive yourself.

Give him a definitive yes or a no.

And Eli Jang is pretty guarded with romance after Heather. He's trying to be a good father to Yenna while also taking care of Hostel or whatever the fuck this dumbdumb is upto these days so he doesn't have time for romance.

Having feelings for you brings a lot of turmoil and stress that is very much unwelcomed. Thinks about you a lot. Playing happy family in his head once all this blows over.

Eli's a very busy guy and doesn't seek you out, though will call and message quite a bit. Just to talk to you and be friendly, even though this is completely not the type of thing he does.

How a love triangle could work

The only way I would see this working is if you are not aware of their feelings for you. If you do know and keep stringing them along, they will definitely peace out asap.

Them being aware of each other's feelings won't be a dealbreaker, but during the more... difficult moments, they might just think it is more effort than it's worth with everything else happening around them.

Surprisingly little crossover between these two. There was their fights quite a while back, but Eli and Johan are very much like two ships passing. Similar arcs with being Gun's successors and being trained by Tom Lee.

Basically, you're never going to really see them together but they WILL give you a migraine.

So. Some actual headcanons

These are opposites in many ways.

Eli will try to take up your time mentally, but Johan will almost always physically be around. Trailing after you, being with you.

If you get some pings on your phone, Johan's guard would immediately go up. Who is that?? Would never outright ask, the irritation simmering below the surface and jealousy exhibiting through other actions.

Similarly, take too long to respond back to Eli then he will start having all these doubts. Less about his actual feelings for you, but more on the timing and whether seeking you out is a good idea at all.

And because there is so little interaction between these two, unfortunately you are stuck in the middle.

AND they seem like the type that would always harbour a grudge against each other for their previous run ins (especially Johan), and see each other as competition. Vying for your affection is just another way for them to butt heads.

Eli through the phone: "tell Johan I can always give him a haircut, he looks like he needs one." Johan, being so quick-witted, will probably respond with "fuck off" and give you the cold shoulder for days.

Or Johan will hide your phone or distract you so much that you forget to respond back to Eli or completely miss his call.

They're both hot and cold in different ways. Johan will be mad at his feelings for you, stay away, and then find he can't. During his sweeter moments, he will be around you a lot, something of a lost puppy. But when he's at his most childish and selfish worst, he will vanish for ages leaving you to worry.

As mentioned, Eli will just be constantly fretting about the timing of this and feeling guilty about speaking to you when his focus should be elsewhere. So he might go quiet and pull away for a bit. Eventually, you'll contact him and then he'll think hearing your voice, reading your texts, occasionally seeing your face makes it worth it though.

In summary

Good fucking luck with these two.

The best advice is to be perceptive of their feelings for you then stay in one goddamn lane.

#if youve made it this far congrats #ramblings of a madwoman #and sorry for any forgotten details #might have forgotten some huge plot points tbh #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism #lookism manhwa #lookism webtoon #eli jang #eli jang x reader #johan seong #johan seong x reader #wannaeatramyeon

276 notes · View notes

k-s-morgan · 3 months ago

Note

hello!! Just did a reread of ATLWETD and I’m loving the dynamic between Tom and Harry so far. It’s kinda hilarious that Harry makes an impulsive decision to elaborately reimagine his and Tom’s backstory as a move, and then Tom goes ahead and tries to kill him in the next chapter before Harry changes his mind. Like, of course, Tom’s going to see Harry as a threat and as always Harry is going to weasel his way out of a near death experience. I can’t wait to see where these two are going to go from here and how the plots going to unravel as Harry’s secrets start to unfold. Speaking of Harry’s imaginative backstory, I wanted to hear what you would think would happen if Harry and Tom really did grow up together. I’ve read some Fanfics with this premise (Holly & Yew being one of my favorites) and most writers come to the conclusion that the two would be extremely close and Harry would ultimately have a positive influence on Tom overall. Based upon how you characterize your Tom and Harry, what do you think would most likely happen? Do you think it would mirror the story Harry made up in ATLWETD with them being close, but Tom making too many bad moves that lead to him becoming Voldemort or would it be similar to how Tom is in WHGTB with him being more mellowed out in terms of violence and desires to become a power-hungry dictator, but still makes morally dubious decisions when it comes to his relationship with Harry ? can’t wait to hear your thoughts and excited for the next updates ☺️

Hi! Thank you so much for your ask <3 I'm glad you're enjoying this story and the dynamic between Tom and Harry - the next chapter is my favorite one exactly because every single scene has them interacting, and I love it.

I love fics where Tom and Harry grow up together, and I adore Holly & Yew! Personally, the way I envision a dynamic like this, there are two most possible scenarios. The first one is close to WHGTB and what you described. Tom and Harry influencing one another since the beginning, with Tom turning out more balanced, having priorities other than 100% power, and going the path of becoming a Minister or something similar. Harry, in turn, would be less naive and noble, but he'd keep his core characteristics.

On the other hand, things could have had a darker twist, too. Canon Harry is lovely, but if he grew up alongside psychopathic and adoring Tom, in a dreary place surrounded by people who feared him - who knows what kind of person he could have become. Would he still be kind and righteous? Maybe. After all, his life with the Dursleys wasn't a walk in the park, and he still turned out to be a good person. But having Tom's attention and direct influence early on could be a big factor, so I can see Harry growing up more twisted, darker, and crueller. He'd still be stubborn, he'd have some set ideals, but he'd be colder, more selfish, more independent, and more accepting of Tom's scarier tendencies.

Either way, I'm sure that in both scenarios, he and Tom would be inseparable. Maybe Tom would see Harry as a threat and competitor at first, but he'd soon become greedy for his company, and his certainty of his own uniqueness would expand to include Harry in it.

#my fics #tomarry #harry potter #atlwetd

51 notes · View notes

brucewaynehater101 · 8 months ago

Note

What music genres do you think the batfam members listen to?I ask this because of how little Alternative music fan headcannons there are. I personally think Tim enjoys grunge and or nu metal(Specifically bands like limp Bizkit, Linkin Park, Korn, and System of a Down)

I'm not too familiar with genres, so I'll be giving this my best shot. I typically listen to music by the vibe it gives. My playlists include music that makes my brain go brr (the nice dissociation), songs for muses, ones to scandalize my mother, music a garage band would play, songs that make God fear me, and a long playlist for pleasant company.

Anyways, I've seen a few fics where people say that Bruce and Tim share a love of those genres. I could definitely see Tim listening to the ones you mentioned. He probably plays it through his preferred headphones as he fixes electronics, codes, or plots destruction. He also, because he suppresses his anger a lot, probably listens to music like Ghostemane, Kim Dracula, and Freddie Dredd.

Jason definitely enjoys musicals. Dick as well, but Jason isn't as vocal about it. Instead, Jason will listen to 80's rock and 2000's girl bands if others around (he ofc listens to TLC).

I like to think that they all enjoy music in different languages. For Dick and Damian, they especially like music they grew up listening to in their respective cultures. The others, because the batfam is multilingual, just enjoy all kinds of different tunes in multiple languages. The batfam playlist, especially for hanging out in the cave, is chaotic. Bruce nearly had an aneurysm the first time he heard Touch You (Yarichin Bitch Club) over the speakers. The only reason the kids didn't get in trouble was because Damian was out with Colin at the time.

I hc that Cass likes lofi hip hop music. She typically enjoys all songs but prefers those without words (because understanding words still requires energy from her and can prevent her from fully relaxing). She does listen to a lot of classical music, a passion she shares with Alfred.

Alfred, the man the myth the legend, enjoys swing music the most. He'll put on a variety of music in the kitchen (different classical eras, opera music, the occasional musical, jazz, some more modern instrumental music, and some movie background tracks), but the whole fam knowns he's in a really good mood if swing music is playing.

Bruce is the type of person to just listen to what's on. Unless he dislikes the music, he will be fine with whatever his kids or Alfred have playing. He particularly enjoys alternative rock and old country music (like Garth Brooks), but he doesn't usually fight for the aux cord.

Barbara has playlists depending on her mood. Birds of Prey mission prep? Bruce being a dick? Dick being a dick? Batfam drama she has to once again intervene in? Coding nights? Can't get out of bed days? She also has a few playlists for each person she regularly interacts with. For calm or bad nights, she'll put the playlist in that person's comm. She also likes to hack speakers around Bruce and play her revenge music when he's being a petty asshole. Some of her revenge music includes "They're Coming to Take Me Away" by Sloppy Jane, "OoOo1" by galen tipton, "All I see is Poop" by Hobo Johnson, "I Swallowed Shampoo" by Soupy Garage Juice, "I am now going to bark at you" by thquib, and "I hope You Die in a Fire" by Grand Commander.

Duke is most definitely a Mitski, Hozier, Crane Wives enjoyer, and you can pry that hc from my cold, dead hands. He probably also likes songs similar to "Ancapistan" by Jreg or "The Fine Print" by The Stupendium.

Dick's music is either super high in energy or sad as fuck. He loves the songs "Has Anbody Seen My Will to Live" by The Tin Knees and "Copacabana (At the Copa)" by Barry Manilow because they are both sad and happy :) I hc that he likes songs by TV Girl, Yot Club, Joji, and Cosmo Sheldrake. He also has a few playlists he follows of Zumba music. The song "The Masochism Tango" by Tom Lehrer is one of his favorites.

This is already a pretty long post, so feel free to reblog with more ideas! I didn't get to Steph or more in depth with Damian :(

#dc comics #duke thomas #dc universe #tim drake #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #damian wayne #barbara gordon #alfred pennyworth #yes i do listen to every song and band I've mentioned regularly and for enjoyment #thank you for the ask!!!!#i will probably add damian and steph later #ignore any bad writings with this one cause I'm currently at work while writing it

32 notes · View notes

ao3feed-brucewayne · 5 months ago

Text

The Spider of Gotham

by butteredfloorboard Peter park finds himself in Gotham city and meets none other than his favourite comic book anti-hero, Red Hood. Peter decides to stick with him whether Jason likes it or not. Peter knows his best way to survive Gotham is Jason so why would he leave? It totally doesn’t have anything to do with the fact the fictional red hood from his original universe was his bisexual awakening, nooo nothing to do with that. Jason Todd is back in Gotham under the alias Red Hood, he has plans to kill the joker and make Batman pay for not giving a shit about him. Well that was the plan until a spider themed vigilante almost makes him go pit man, Then decides to out stay his welcome, but Jason realizes that maybe this guys isn’t all that bad. This fic contains: Batfamily antic, Damian being Damian, an awkward Peter, funny interactions between Peter and the bats, and much much more. Words: 1063, Chapters: 1/?, Language: English Fandoms: DCU, DCU (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies) Rating: Mature Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Categories: M/M Characters: Peter Parker, Jason Todd, Dick Grayson, Bruce Wayne, Damian Wayne, Tim Drake, Wally West, Kon-El | Conner Kent Relationships: Dick Grayson/Wally West, Tim Drake/Kon-El | Conner Kent, Peter Parker & Jason Todd, Peter Parker & Bruce Wayne, Dick Grayson & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Peter Parker, Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Tim Drake & Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Peter Parker, Peter Parker/Jason Todd Additional Tags: Tim Drake & Peter Parker Friendship, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim drake is awesome, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Bisexual Peter Parker, Bisexual Jason Todd, Peter Parker is Spider-Man, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, My First Fanfic, Other Additional Tags to Be Added via https://ift.tt/9shy2Hi

#IFTTT #bruce wayne #batman #the dark knight #the caped crusader #gotham #dcu #dc #ao3 #ao3feed

21 notes · View notes

gh0stlyb34r · 3 months ago

Text

Welcome to my blog !

About me ! ; the basics

name ; saint , logan , johnny

big age ; 19 ('05)

little age ; 2 - 5

pronouns ; he / they / star / it (+more!)

gender / sexuality ect. ; gay , trans , ace , poly(?)

links at end of post!!

pronouns page | strawpage

About me ! ; my interests

games ; call of duty , overwatch , valorant , hogwarts legacy , jedi fallen order , jedi survivor , red dead redemption 2 , roblox (royale high , dress to impress + more!) , fnaf , poppy playtime , indigo park , forza horizon , resident evil 4 , good pizza great pizza , animal crossing new horizons , mario kart 8 , mario kart wii , just dance , the last of us , detroit become human , spiderman , little nightmares , buckshot roulette

movies / shows / musicals ; star wars , harry potter , marvel , x-men , deadpool & wolverine , the greatest showman , grease , hairspray , moulin rouge , phantom of the opera , annie , hamilton , les miserables , arcane , criminal minds , swat , titains , the batman , high school musical , heartstopper , heathers , young royals , ghostbusters , beetlejuice , into the woods , mean girls , the umbrella academy , nimona , descendants , lemonade mouth , stranger things

youtubers ; pezzy , grizzy , bigpuffer , elasticdroid , gtlive , game theory , warn , aspen , frogger , flats , dawko , ethan nestor , smii7y , blarg , thedooo , beaplays , coleydoesthings , filmcooper , dechart games , hthaze , james marriott , willne

musicians / bands ; taylor swift , hozier , noah kahan , james marriott , mcr , twenty one pilots , p!atd , billie eilish , sleeping at last , the smiths , fleetwood mac , the cranberries , laufey , mitski clairo , paramore , bruno major , depeche mode , chappell roan , novo amor , taylor austen dye , maya hawke , frank sinatra , 1d , 5sos , feels like july , florance the machine , djo , sleep token , lily allen , ghost , lady gaga , gerard way , daughter

misc ; books , lego , monster high , collecting , cds , dvds , posters , flowers , pins , halloween , fall/autumn , deco pacis , colouring

DISCLAIMER ; I do not support the actions of my faves! I hold them all accountable! I do not support JKR , noah schnapp ect!!!

About me ! ; My faves

celebrities / authors ; pedro pascal , oscar isaac , hugh jackman , ryan reynolds , erik j brown , ali hazelwood , tom holland , gerard way , aiden gallagher , kit connor , andrew garfield , ewan mcgregor , hayden christensen , carrie fisher , eddie remain , tom hiddelston , josh hutcherson , david harbour , wynona rider , aaron tveit , matthew gray gubler , maya hawke , natalia dyer , thomas gibson , padget brewster , aj cook

characters ; viktor , jinx , vi , ekko , simon 'ghost' riley , john 'soap' mactavish , kyle 'gaz' garrick , captain john price , keegan p russ , robin buckley , spencer reid , steve harrington , emily prentiss , aaron hotchner , penelope garcia , james potter , remus lupin , sirius black , loki , logan howlett , scott summers , rogue , marc spector , steven grant , obi-wan kenobi , anakin skywalker , luke skywalker , han solo , leia organa , ben hargreeves , luther hargreeves , five hargreeves , newt scamander , theseus scamander , din djarin , wade wilson , danny zuko , ben florian , flynn rider , aziraphale , crowley , nick nelson

My rules ! ; do not interact

nsfw , abdl/ddlg (and variants) , racist, homophobic , transphobic , ableist , zionist , edsh , n@zi , trump supporters , anti agere , anti petre , dsmp/qsmp fans (mainly dream team & wilbur fans)

My rules ; boundaries

when using pet names or gendered terms, keep them masc or gn NO FEM TERMS

DO NOT flirt with me , whether that is as a joke or platonicaly

keep all asks SAFE FOR WORK

more...

Links ; other blogs

writing blog ; @b4bywr1t3s

caregiver blog ; @royaldaycare

Links ; requests and master list

request info / master list / whitelist

Links ; credits

dni banners ; one , two , three

consent banner and dividers ; @kodaswrld

My tags ;

ghostlyblog ; normal posts + asks

ghostlyboards ; moodboards + stimboards

ghostlymedia ; agere media + other photos/videos

🐾 . lo's fictional cgs ; fictional characters that I see as cgs/my cgs

🐾 . lo's fictional faves ; my favourite fictional characters

19 notes · View notes

malavera · 2 years ago

Text

Dad's Best Friend, pt. iv — Tom Cruise

↳ Tom Cruise is your Dad's Best friend. Your dad is a businessman in Hollywood, and he happens to be friends with your teenage year crush. You're legal now, what happens when you can finally live out your desires?

summary: Tom invites you to dinner with the intentions to catch up with you, but is that really all?

pairings: dbf!Tomcruise x female!reader

warnings: mature content, smut, oral m/receiving, unprotected sex, choking, spanking, creampie, praisekink, age gaps, the use of a word 'princess', daddykink. KEEP IN MIND THAT THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

w.c: 3608

tagging: @helloitstsyu @tomsf18 @moondustfairies @deanscroissant @elenavampire21 @gypsymoon548 @call-sign-shark @katherineswritingsblog @love2write2626

CHECK OUT THE SERIES

Shifting the gear to park before you turn off the ignition, you just had to release the loudest sigh ever. The palm of your hands collided to your face, rubbing off the tiredness and the excess oil from your skin. Your eyebrows scrunched together as you gave yourself a mental time out, What the hell did you do back there? You couldn't help but cringe when your brain takes you back to the actions that you just pulled.

"I just sucked my Dad's Best Friend's cock." You muttered to yourself.

Unconsciously biting your bottom lip, your eyes darted to the clock displayed in the monitor of your Benz that showed 6 PM. But, you're not done. You brought yourself back to think about the event that happened hours ago, Do you like it? From the way the corner of your lips tugged back into a small smile, your fingertips grazes across your lips, your tongue slightly poking out touching the flesh of your fingers, the memory suddenly flashes back to remind you of how empowered you felt back then when you were on your knees devouring his cock. You swallowed every bit like it's the last meal on earth.

You chuckled to yourself as you have decided, that you liked it and you would do it again in any given chance. Shaking out of your thoughts, you bring yourself back to reality as you hurried out of your car to get inside your house. You don't have much time where in fact it almost slipped out of your mind, Tom has invited you for a dinner alone with him. Just the two of you, no one else.

“I’d like to take you out to Dinner, tonight.”

He appeared from behind, dragging his fingertips against your delicate skin from your shoulder blades to the nape of your neck—ghosting a kiss. You smiled and chuckled watching him from the mirror, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Turning your whole body towards him, as he wrapped his arms around your waist instantly.

“M’yeah? Why not?” He tipped his chin up, a sly smile on his face. Cheeks slowly turned rosey, your lips quiver slightly attempting to suppress a big smile that’s dying to be expressed.

“Because, people might photograph you dining with your best friend’s daughter—without the best friend. Wouldn’t it be weird?”

“If that’s what you’re worried about, then I’ll cook.” Tom insisted with a shrug, you catch your tongue in between your teeth giving yourself a second to consider his proposition. He did said he wanted to spend more time with you right? Besides, you would never know when you could have another day off without worrying about your work.

You accepted his invitation. A kiss was left on your cheek before he left you alone inside the room, and as you drove back home and had a brief moment giving yourself time to think—that’s when you realize that you really are doing this, with him. He’s not a dream anymore, he’s real.

The weather became windy once you set your foot out against the pavements. Pushing yourself out from your car, you realize you hadn’t picked out what you wanted to wear for tonight. Sighing, fumbling with your keys you stopped yourself once you caught a glimpse of a big black box with a silver ribbon wrapped around it so beautifully. A note was attached to it as you bend down,

Wear this for tonight, I'll pick you up at 8.

I can't wait to see you, darling.

— T

A smile creeped on your face that you barely realize, pulling your attention away from the piece of paper before collecting the box. Sighing once you plop it down on your bed cushions, you unwrap the box to reveal a black dress. Grabbing them by the strings as you lift them up, it’s a simple black dress with a fabric that feels so soft. The dress is backless, and the body of the dress is ruffled on each sides—it’s the ones that would follow the shape of your body. You bring them against your chest, facing your full length mirror to find out it ends on your mid thighs.

Laughing to yourself as you thought, very cheeky of him. You realize you won’t get much time to get ready when you give another glance towards the clock on the wall. Throwing the dress away to your bed, you hurried off towards your bathroom to turn on the shower and let the water stream for a while to get it hot. Hands went to gather your hair as you put them into a ponytail and start cleaning your face with a cotton pad soaked in micellar water. Taking your sweet time, you realize you’ve been neglecting something that should’ve been thought of.

Why is he on board with this?

Why is he welcoming this whole thing as if he’s got nothing to worry about? As if his life is not on the line? Hypothetically, his life is not on the line—you’re a grown woman. Though, you are aware that if this thing gets out to the world, everyone might find it weird because the man technically was like a second father to you. Everybody, knows your Dad. He’s a successful producer in Hollywood, he’s good friends with everyone in the business. Not to mention, you are also quite famous yourself with your Beauty brand being successful across the United States, there’s no way escaping this. If you’re really going to do this with him, discreet is not even the word anymore, but you and Tom really have to restrain yourselves from each other.

Running your hands down to your sides feeling the soft velvet fabric of the dress, smiling to yourself as you thought damn, not only I looked good in this dress but the man knows a great one. The final touch was to choose a color for your lips. You eventually decided to go with a red one, and just on time, your doorbell rung. Your heart skipped a beat as you shut the cap to your Chanel Lipstick and grabbing your purse. Giving yourself one final look in the mirror, fixing your hair a little bit.

When the door swung open, the sight of you in the black dress that he personally handpicked, took his breath away. He took a good minute to admire your appearance tonight—your Make-Up’s done in a bold yet subtle look, your layered long hair sits perfectly on your toned shoulder, and of course he noticed the red lipstick that he’s never seen you wearing one. His eyes stares at your lips, unconsciously his tongue poking out swiping against his bottom lip. All of a sudden he forgot what he was here for, he yearns to have that red lips wrapped around his thick cock and watch your eyes bloodshot with tears as you gag on them.

A small chuckle he lets go of to break away the tension. “You look beautiful.” He complimented.

Your cheeks tinted slightly rosey, a blush had crept in from the compliment. “Your choice.”

“Yes, my choice indeed.” And he meant it as a compliment.

“Shall we?”

The ride towards his house wasn’t what you expected. You’d expect it will fill with awkward tension, but in all honesty, it’s just you. You thought it was going to be embarrassing considering that you just sucked his cock literally a couple of hours ago, of course nobody would expect anyone to be well this—his left hand on the steering wheel the other is on your thigh. His thumb rubbing circles while he listens to an 80’s pop song on the radio.

He was being fun.

And he proved to be right, he did cooked. Once you got inside, you were greeted by a very beautifully decorated table. “It’s not much but I remember how you used to love my Spaghetti.” He stated, lifting the lid from the medium-sized bowl to reveal his famous Spaghetti Meatballs that he used to make for when he joins your family night.

You turn to him with a bright smile on your face, as you kiss him on the cheek. “I never stopped loving your Spaghetti, in fact I asked my assistant not long ago to look up how would you cook ‘em. Because, I was craving one.” You gushed. This time, a bright smile displayed on his face.

"Well come on, dig in." He helped you pull your chair before you settle down and wait for him to serve you your plate.

"So," He started as he poured you a glass of wine. "How was school?" Your shoulders slumped as you looked at him with a really? you're joking right? kind of face as he laughs before he goes towards his seat.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." He put his hands up mocking a surrender, before sitting down on his seat.

"Have a bite." He gestured.

Twirling the pasta on your fork, you lift it right in front of your mouth as you watch him, waiting for some kind of response. He nodded his head for you to proceed. Your mouth went agape as you feast on your meal. Your heart flutters in your chest once you tasted the perfectly cooked pasta. A content sigh with your eyes closed, your head slightly tilted back while munching on the food. That familiar warm feeling creeps into your body once you digest the meal down in your stomach. It feels like home to you, and you don't know whether you should be happy, sad, or scared.

Tom smiled, receiving your reaction. "I still got it then." He muttered to himself.

The dinner was filled with small talks, Tom did try to create a conversation but watching you feast on your meal is more to what he imagined the whole dinner would be. "You did have food all this time you're living alone all by yourself, right Y/N?" He cracked a joke as you laughs and cover your mouth.

"I'm sorry, it's just- It taste so good I almost forgot how it taste like." You explained yourself, grabbing your glass of wine.

"How's everything after the release of Top Gun? Are you still living the moment, or you're ready to wrap it up and focus on your next big movie project?" You opened up a topic.

"I do still live in the moment of it as well as working on my next Mission Impossible." Tom answered with a smile. "But, I don't wanna talk about work." He stated.

"I wanna talk about you."

You halted your movements that were about to grab another bite, your eyes peered up to meet his as you decided not to have another bite. Reaching for a napkin from your lap, you gently dab your lips with it.

A smile slowly formed on your face, "What do you want to talk about?" You challenged, grabbing your wine.

"I wanna know what we did back there, is not the last time that I could feel you." Tom didn't waste no time as he points out his desire.

Your breath gently exhaled from your parted lips, your eyes never leaving his as you place your napkin that were on your lap on to the table. You stood up, the foot of the chair dragged against the floor. Hand holding your glass as you walk towards him, your lips meeting the tip of your glass before you take a small gulp, only to leave the room and make your way towards his living room. Tom had expected that you were making your way to sit on his lap, but he was wrong. He softly chuckled to himself before wiping his mouth with the napkin and grab his glass.

He leaned against the wall, watching you browse through his bookshelf. Your delicate fingertips drag across all kinds of books. Turning away from the bookshelf to find him with his eyes already set on your frame. You stared back at him while sipping on your wine while sitting down on his leather couch.

"Why do you ask?"

Tom's lips parted, a small smirk on his face. "Well, maybe because I liked it." He pushed himself off from leaning against the wall, making his way to sit beside you.

"Yeah? What do you like about it?" You inched closer to him.

"I liked how we both know, that there's something more to it. Something more than that. Something that I know, that you're gonna be the death of me." Tom softly spoke, as he placed his glass on the coffee table before caressing your knee.

"Please do, enlighten me." You urged.

A mischievous smirk now appeared on his face, "Your mouth on my cock, nearly gotten me a cardiac arrest. But, your pussy.." He trailed, his fingertips dragged from your knee up to your thighs. "Your pussy would send me straight to meet my creators."

Your lips quirked before you place your glass down. "Well," You started, adjusting your dress to your hips as Tom watch you straddle his lap. His hands instantly went flying to your hips.

"I hope you've done enough prayers for your sins, Sir."

"I'm about to create more, Princess."

Without wasting any time, you felt his hands snaked around your neck to reach your nape, closing the gap by connecting his soft lips against yours. You've experienced an unfamiliar feeling through your whole body, your brain, you like the way his lips feel against yours. You like the way he's very skillful with his tongue, swiping against your bottom lip asking for entrance which you granted. Your hips started to move on its own, feeling his growing tent underneath your panties. Tom broke the kiss to switch from your lips to your neck, tilting your head back to give him more access, your hips never stop grinding on his lap.

"Tell me, Princess, do you want this?" Tom muttered against your warm flesh before pulling his face away from your neck, one hand reach for your throat as you throw your head back with a moan. Tom looked down and watch the way you move your hips, his lips pursed suppressing a grunt as he feel could feel his cock getting fully erect where he needs to free 'em.

"Mmh.." You hummed, Tom pulled you closer.

"Is this just like one of your dreams?" Tom whispered, a smirk on his face.

"I bet you always dream about me, yeah?" He added.

"Answer me, pretty girl. Do you really wanna do this, huh?" As he added more pressure around your throat, you snapped your eyes open choking out a gasp as you tried to nod vigorously.

"I need words, Princess."

"Yes.. Yes, Daddy. I want this. I want you." You mewled, fully melted in his arms.

"Well, have at it then. Show, Daddy how much you want him." Tom released his grip on your throat, adjusting himself as he unbuttoned his blue blazer. You halted your movements as you watch him undoing his belt and leave it there for you to proceed. Your brain didn't have the time to consider whether this is a good thing or a bad one, all you could think about is how does his cock feel inside your tight cunt.

Hurrying yourself off from his lap, you stand on your knees to undo his pants. Pulling them off to pool on his feet along with his boxers letting his cock sprung free, standing in full pride. You lick your lips as your minds yearns to feel him. But, being a good girl you are, you still stand on your knees. Your hands went to reach for his cock, giving him a pump, before you decided to put him in your mouth.

Tom sighed in relief, his hands on top of your head, caressing your soft hair. "Thaat's it... That's a good girl." He praised, your thighs clenched against each other as you could feel yourself wrecking your own panties.

You made sure to suck his cock sloppy, you learned how he likes it dirty. You spit and played with his balls, giving him a good blow before you decided to stop and to give your pussy a turn. You let him out with a pop, gasping for air, wiping the mess from your saliva on your chin. You straddled him back and grab his hand, aiming it towards your soaked panties.

"You feel how wet I am, Daddy?" Tom groaned once he felt how wet you are with his fingertips as they instantly rubs your soaked pussy.

"Can my pussy suck your cock, Daddy?"

Tom rolled his eyes back and throwing his head, "Yes, Princess. Give it to me."

No need to add more lubrication as your pussy is already soaking wet, he helped you ripped your panties off, pulling it away from your hips before tossing it somewhere in the room. You watched how his eyes darkened, you could feel his breathing erratically, anticipating your next move. You hunched your dress up to your hips as you aim his throbbing cock against your entrance before you sink down to his cock.

Gasping, your hands on his shoulders to support yourself. Tom received your whole reaction, it is something that he wished he had a camera with him just so he could rewind it all over again. You feel so good, your pussy welcoming his pulsating cock engulfed with tightness. Tom had to grip your hips to stop himself not to take matters into his own hands as he wants you to hold the reigns.

Your lips tremble as you take your time adjusting to the size of his cock, he's not long, but he is so thick. But, that's just how you like it. "Princess, can you please move?" Tom grumbled underneath his breath.

You bit your lips and nod your head, your knees digging against the couch to support you as you slowly went up and down on his shaft. You moan as euphoria has entered your whole body. You liked how his cock hits the right spot, a rapacious feeling suddenly appeared inside your body. You wanted more, your pussy wants more. Your pace fastened, his grip hardened. Tom's mouth went agape, watching you bounce up and down on his cock, moaning. His hands went to reach your top to release your tits, a hand went to your toned back, gently pushing your chest closer to his mouth as he wants to capture one of your nipples.

His eyes screwed shut, feeling the way you fuck yourself to his cock. His lips sucking on your nipples, tongue swaying and dancing to give a tingling friction down through your whole body.

"Ah! Daddy.. Daddy.. Daddy!" You chanted.

Tom gave your nipple a slight graze with his teeth, "Yeah, baby? You like calling me Daddy, huh? Keep going, Princess. I am your Daddy." Tom hissed, one of his hands went to spank your ass. You whimpered, receiving his dirty talks.

"Look at you, such a good girl for me. Your pussy feels so good around me, baby." Tom coaxed you even more.

"Thaat's itt... Just like that baby. Come on, faster. Make a mess on my cock. I know you want to, I know you've been dreaming about this." You gasped, your hips snapped faster grinding then bouncing on his cock like your whole life depends on it. Your main focus is to make yourself cum, you wanna feel yourself make a mess all over his cock.

"Ngh! Daddy... I'm close." You yelped, gripping his shoulders hard.

"I know, Baby. Come on, be a good girl, and cum on my cock." Tom panted, watching the way your face scrunched reaching your orgasm.

"Daddy, Daddy, I'm coming!" You moan loudly, as your ground your hips down on his cock, feeling yourself orgasmed. Thighs shaking, body trembling. Tom groaned as he could feel your spilled release on his cock.

"Daddy's turn now baby." He whispered against your lips before he helps you adjust by having you lean forward against his chest. You hugged his shoulders and gasped once you feel him drilled his throbbing cock in your pussy.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck!" You cursed, gripping his hair.

Tom moaned to the feeling, from the way you grip his hair almost pulling them out from the roots, your pussy warm and tight as ever milking his cock.

"Taking this cock like a good girl." He panted in your ear as you moaned.

"Yeah that's right, pussy made for me. Only my cock could get to cum in this fucking tight cunt." His dirty talk is to boost his ego, and being a good girl that you are, you give it to him.

"Mmhm.. Daddy. Only for you," You gasped in his ear. You rolled out your tongue to glaze it against his skin. "Pussy made for your cock. Your big, fat, cock." You whimpered.

"Urgh! Fuck, I'm coming baby." He grunted, his hips snapping upwards.

"Come in me, Daddy. I want your cum inside me." You mewled.

Tom moaned, gripping your hair before he stilled his hips to shoot his release. He gave one and two last thrust to ride out his orgasm, milking out his cum.

"Oh, fuck." He cursed.

You gasped as you can feel his cum leaking out of your pussy down to your thighs. Pulling yourself away from him to look down in between you both, you giggled at the mess you both made. Tom breathlessly chuckled, as he caress your cheeks.

"Is this what you dreamed of, baby?"

#tom cruise #dbf!tomcruise #dbf series #tom cruise smut #tom cruise fic #tom cruise x reader #tom cruise dirty imagine #tom cruise imagine #tom cruise movies #maverick smut #maverick

283 notes · View notes

ridiculousimplicity · 24 days ago

Text

Just finished watching High Potential ep 6.. ❕SPOILERS AHEAD❕

Mr. Tom, the janitorial staff seems sus. Even after he revealed he is studying to become a nurse, I am not so convinced. Let's see how this goes. But he sure got that swagger. 😜

That scene where Morgan checked her own behaviour in front of Selena was so funny and such a lovely way to flesh out their dynamic.

Is Selena a bit of a mother/elder sister figure for Morgan? Morgan says she definitely is a much better boss to her compared to her previous ones but I also like the idea of them becoming close as the show progresses.

When Morgan sassed 😎 that lawyer back, I had to rewatch it 3 more times, just to marvel at her. 🤭 And on a side note, Karadec smugly watching that lawyer walk out utterly humbled was a delight. 😂

Karadec acknowledging that he loves how Morgan loves supporting the underdog is gonna be staying rent free in my head. And we see how Morgan is trying her best to be supportive of Sam (current suspect) but also learning from Karadec and the team to try and keep her emotions out of it as they explore all avenues to catch the killer.

Both Karadec and Selena's respective interactions with Morgan about Sam are so important.

Also, Lt. Selena running over a parked Vespa with her patrol car? 🤣 Oh, I wanna know the actual story behind it now!

But I do have a problem with the final evidence that helped get Sam out of being labelled as the killer. How is it possible that the crime scene investigation did not find the 1 way mirror and also the camera behind it?

#high potential abc #high potential #morgan gillory #adam karadec #selena soto

12 notes · View notes

possibly-evil · 2 months ago

Note

SO SORRY IF THIS IS AWKWARD but i wanted to send in a writing thing 😭

prompt: what if Paul and Emma swapped places with Tom in Black Friday? Like Emma is part of the doll ‘feast or famine’ crowd for. Yk, the family reasons and Paul (unaffected) essentially is just running around/running into the foster sisters and whatever the hell was happening in the mall. Dude is having a terrible time as always

(If i phrased that weirdly can i just ask for paulkins interacting with the foster sisters in a casual setting please 🙏 ty!)

yeah!!!!! love this idea sm, hope you like it :)

“You want us to do what?” Emma slammed her coffee on the table.

“Pick up a Wiggly for Tim.” Emma scoffed at Tom. Paul stood awkwardly in the corner. He didn’t want to get involved, Emma was better at arguments.

“Why would we-”

“I want to spend the holidays with my son, not waiting in line.” Tom said. Emma rolled her eyes.

“I thought we were spending the holidays together, Tom. As a family.” Tom clenched his fists.

“My son lost his family when that car crashed. I’ve never asked anything of you ever before. Do this one thing for Me. For Tim. For Jane.” Emma looked away. After a few seconds, she walked over to Paul.

“Lets go get a fucking Wiggly, I guess.” They picked up their bags.

“Emma? Where are you going?” Tim asked, poking his head into the kitchen.

“We have to go to the hardware store to pick up a new bandsaw for your dad. Merry Christmas, Tim.” Emma slammed the door shut.

“There's nowhere to park…” Emma said, driving slowly.

“There?” Paul asked, pointing at a large spot.

“That's where the delivery trucks dump their stuff off.”

“It’s probably fine. Let's just hurry.” They parked the car and hopped out, and began walking into the mall.

“You can’t park there.” A voice said. It was a teenager, wearing the Toy Zone uniform and smoking a cigarette. She couldn’t have been older than 19. Paul blinked a few times.

“Lex? Lex Foster?” He asked. She nodded.

“I used to babysit her and her sister,” Paul said to a confused Emma.

“Have you babysitted everybody in this town?” she mumbled under her breath.

“Do you know how many Wiggly’s they have left?” Paul asked. Lex sighed.

“The store isn’t even open yet. Not that it matters. People have been waiting outside for days. You'll be lucky if you even get in the store by noon.” Paul groaned.

“C’mon, let's at least see if we can… buy our way into line? Or something? I don't know. Let's just hurry up.” Emma walked off, dragging Paul behind her. He waved awkwardly at Lex.

“You can’t park here!” Lex called after them. They didn’t hear her. “Oh well.”

“Hello? Sorry, can we cut in here for… uh… twenty bucks?” Emma said, pulling some cash from her pocket. The girl in line scowled at her. She was wearing a nursing uniform. Emma vaguely remembered her from highschool.

“Hey, some people have been waiting in line for a very long time, that’s not very fair,” a blonde lady shouted from further ahead. The nurse ignored the other customer.

“No, you can’t cut. That's bribery, and it... should be illegal.” Emma opened her mouth to retaliate, but Paul stopped her.

“Emma! Emma! Over here.” She turned. Paul was pointing to- Gary Goldstien? The attorney?

“This is Gary. He’s uh- my brother. Gary, this is Emma. My…” He shrugged. Emma glared at the nurse one last time and walked to where Paul was standing.

“Hi Gary, nice to meet you. Can we cut you for twenty bucks?”

“Sure. I’ll do it for free. I’ve a lot of favors due to Paul here for taking care of my son when I'm away,” Gary said in his nasally voice. Emma smiled at him.

“Hopefully this will go by quick so we can all go home.” She muttered to Paul as they squeezed their way into line.

Emma tried to be quiet as the rabid customers ran by her hiding spot, the popcorn counter in the movie theater. She looked out and saw Paul skittering towards her.

“What the fuck was that?” He whispered, crouching down into the shadows with her. His face was ridden with sweat and panic.

“I-I don’t know. Everyone’s going crazy. Is Gary- where’s Gary?”

“He… I think… I think he killed a guy. I don’t know what’s happening to him- what's happening to anybody. We know these people. They’re not murderers.” Emma nodded.

“We just need too-”

Something clattered to the floor. Emma shrieked, and Paul jumped up, looking around their area. He locked eyes with a young girl, who had knocked a can off of the counter on accident.

“Hannah?” He asked her. She backed up against the wall.

“Bad blood… bad blood…” she repeated it over and over again. Paul looked at Emma, who had calmed down.

“It’s Lex’s sister.” He turned back to the frightened girl.

“Hannah? It’s me, Paul. I used to babysit you. Do you remember?” He walked a little closer to her, and she whimpered, clutching her backpack.

“Hannah… what’s in the backpack?”

“Bad. Bad. Webby says it’s bad. He’s bad. He’ll trick you! He- he…” She started crying. Emma came up to the girl and sat down next to her.

“It’s ok. It’s ok.” She let Hannah lean on her. Emma looked in the backpack quickly.

“Oh. It’s a Wiggly.” A look came over Emma’s face. A look Paul had never seen before. A look Paul didn’t like.

“Emma?” She didn’t look at him. She slowly took the bag from Hannah. The girl looked up at her with a distressed expression.

“No! No! Bad!” Emma stood up.

“Lets go Paul.”

“No! He’s bad! Black and White! Bad blood! NO!” She grabbed at the bag, and Emma kicked her legs.

“Emma!” Paul rushed to stand in front of Hannah. “Emma, this isn’t you.” Her eyes darted around.

“Tim wants this doll. He needs it. He needs it.” Paul shook his head.

“Leave the doll! We need to get out of here, get safe.” She locked eyes with him, and her gaze softened. She dropped the bag. Paul took Hannah’s hand.

“We need to find somewhere safe. Let’s go.”

“Emma?” Tom jumped out of the car and rushed to her. Emma ran to embrace him, and Paul shook his hand awkwardly afterwards.

“Tom, god, I'm so glad you’re here.” The mall was aflame behind them, and the few stragglers that made it out were charred and distressed. Hannah and Lex had found each other in the mall, and Paul could only hope they got out.

“I’m so sorry, Emma. I- I don’t know why I sent you to get that doll. Tim doesn’t even want it. I’m gonna get him a Nintendo or something.” They all laughed, but soon a silence followed.

“I almost lost Paul in there."

"And my... my brother..." Paul looked back at the mall. He still hadn't fully processed what had happened to Gary. Maybe he got out? Paul doubted it. He'd never see his brother again. He'd have to tell Richie. He'd have to tell his friends and family that Gary had burned in the mall after beating a teenage boy to death. He looked away from the people, and squeezed Emma's hand tighter. She continued talking to Tom.

"All this stuff, people dying... friends, family... it made me start to think…Tom, it’s time we sit down, as a family, and talk about Jane.” He looked reluctant, but nodded.

“I’m just glad you’re ok. Both of you. And I'm sure Tim will love spending the rest of Christmas with his Aunt. And Paul.” Paul gave him a thumbs up, wiping his eyes. If he could make it through today... he could make it to tomorrow. that is, if tomorrow even came.

A plane whooshed overhead.

#black friday #starkid #Black Friday starkid #Hannah foster #lex foster #Paul matthews #Emma perkins #gary goldstein #hatchetfeild #hatchetfield #wiggly

17 notes · View notes