#Interesting that they will actually film in Los Angeles

[justjensenanddean]

Jensen Ackles in Demand: Soldier Boy Will Return For Final Season of THE BOYS

Looks like "Countdown" will start filming in September, in Los Angeles.

[threeacttragedy]

Entry 12: The One Where We Start Laying the Yellow Brick Road to Italy

I realized the other day that, even though I like to bounce around from place to place in the Lukola timeline, I probably needed to start tightening things up on the ship if I ever wanted to get to the end of the story. And, yes, dammit, this story better have a finale at some point because there’s nothing more annoying than an open-ended ending, particularly in the romance genre.

Today we’re going to take a quick jaunt over to Italy because –

NO! Not because Luke is allegedly filming there. If you’re into real-time stalking, you’re in the wrong blog. But, I’m sure there’s a Discord for that.

It’s because I’ve had several people ask for my opinion about the change in behavior between Luke and Nicola during their Day 1 interviews there. Wait – people are interested in my thoughts? Wow, that’s actually kind of nice. Thank you! Okay, back to what I was saying –

Was there a change in behavior when Luke and Nicola reached Italy? Yeah, actually, there kind of was.

By May 9, we had been gifted with a slew of material from Luke, Nicola, and the Bridgerton cast and, I must admit, those early interviews are some of the most entertaining of the tour. In the very beginning, Nicola appeared as the utmost professional – charming, intelligent, and witty at the right moments – and Luke played her likeable counterpart to “Book Colin” perfection – bouncing between being awkwardly boyish and wickedly roguish, all while looking at Nicola like she had just served him homemade peanut butter crumble.

The two of them together, playing off each other, in my opinion, was better than Bridgerton Season 3 (you cannot beat the World Tour being 99% Luke and Nicola, with only a few random side characters taking up screentime). There was some major “Electric Love” radiating from those two throughout the tour, but it seemed very much heightened in the beginning (probably because they hadn’t yet answered the same question 67 times). By the way, if you haven’t heard that song by Børns, go have a listen. It will, at the very least – hopefully – put you in an upbeat mood for the day.

Now, where was I? Oh, yes – was there a change in behavior between Luke and Nicola when they reached Italy?

Absolutely.

Do I know why?

Absolutely not.

Perhaps Luke was bent because someone spilled his coffee, or Nicola was upset because her stylist made her to wear that little silver bow in her hair. In my opinion, the most intriguing part of Day 1 of the Italy press junket was that Luke and Nicola struggled with answering the question, “What is love?” I swear they both babbled on like two kids in debate class who hadn’t bothered to read the material given to them before taking their respective podiums. They finally seemed to settle on Luke’s “Maybe it’s, like, connection.” Well, they seemed to be missing the “connection” that day.

Honestly, no one can explain their “don’t stand so close to me” vibe during those first day interviews except Luke and Nicola. But, we can at least have some fun and speculate about it with a bird’s eye view. At this point, you should know that I love spreading the puzzle pieces out and seeing how they might all connect. Most people – when putting a puzzle together – start with the side pieces, right? You’ll get my joke in a moment (I hope).

In March 2024 – I don’t know the specific date because my timeline is rather murky going back that far (I was unaware Lukola even existed!) – Luke traveled to Los Angeles for a photo spread with InStyle magazine. I’ve heard two versions of this story. The first being that Luke traveled to Los Angeles with Antonia alone; the second being that he traveled to Los Angeles with his friend group, which included Antonia. I couldn’t tell you which is true, and it really doesn’t matter because it doesn’t necessarily add or take away from today’s story.

Before I get started, I wanted to give a “hurrah” to The-One-Whose-Group-Chat-Fills-in-Lots-of-Missing-Bits-for-Me-Including-the-Part-Where-Video-Footage-of-Antonia-in-Los-Angeles-Seemed-to-Indicate-a-Celebrity-Was-Not-the-Videographer-and-There-Were-So-Many-British-Accents-in-the-Background-One-Would-Fancy-a-Guess-She-was-Traveling-with-a-Group.

Moving along…

On April 7, 2024, Antonia posted a series of photographs and clips to her Instagram grid indicating she had been in Los Angeles, including one where she was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory and one where she was sitting at a table marked with the number “95.” On April 14, she posted a second set of photographs, tagging her location as Beverly Hills, California and using “End of Beginning” as her audio (yes, I side-eyed this choice of music so don’t feel bad if you did as well). The second photo dump included her lounging on a rooftop.

I’m not going to delve into posts made by Luke and Nicola during that timeframe. I mean, I’m sure Nicola’s comment, “’Friends’…sure Jan,” on Luke’s April 11 reshared post about Bridgerton Season 3 was only meant to be applicable to Polin. And, if Luke wanted to use yellow and black hearts to represent the colors Nicola and he were wearing in his April 12 post, that’s cool, too. And, I am definitely not going to speculate on Nicola’s April 15 post (for Big Mood) that Luke liked, and she captioned, “I will bite off anything that dangles.”

By April 21, Luke and Nicola were in Australia at the World Premiere of Bridgerton. I am only going to provide a quick overview of Australia instead of a full-fledged recital because, at some point, I will almost certainly dedicate an entry to this country. Let’s start with Luke pulling off the hottest walk-up in Netflix human history (I mean, have you watched it in slow motion?). Then, we had the hard launch of the handholding business (because why again?). And, we had Luke tripping over his words, “We’re very, like, giving…I’m not talking about those scenes…” Oh, and Nicola telling an interviewer that, “[y]ou can’t keep a good girl down,” and, in response, Luke’s lips curling into a wicked-ass Cheshire cat's. We had them in the garden, with Nicola bending down to hug Luke after she had scratched/hit/petted his head. Perhaps I should not mention the possibility of a man’s shirt being visible on a bed behind Nicola (I said possibility not that it was). And, Nicola telling Luke, “You’re the funnier one,” when he was concerned that perhaps Benedict was funnier than Colin. Then we had the “Nicola-in-the-green-dress” day where, as they were going down the steps, Luke seemed to instinctively reach for Nicola’s hand, but she played it cool and took his arm instead. Oh, and that entire “green dress” day in general (I mean, there was so much shit going on that day). And, best we do not forget Nicola saying, “the best foundation for love is friendship,” which mirrored the bracelet “someone…in Australia” gave Luke that read, “Do you believe the best foundation for love is friendship?” Because that’s not suspicious at all. Alright, let’s get the fuck out of Australia – but not before I mention Nicola commenting on Luke’s April 27 Instagram post with “Ready for the next?” and Luke replying, “Absolutely.” Yeah, yeah, yeah, their shenanigans in Australia expanded the USS Lukola tenfold.

Oh, also, let me throw this in here because, if you are a “ring truther,” this fact plays a significant role in the Lukola timeline. If you do not know what a “ring truther” is, that’s perfectly fine. You can catch up by reading Entry 6 (The One Where I Explained the Claddagh Ring to My Dad) of my blog. I mentioned in Entry 6 that some Lukola sleuths have stated the metadata they pulled from the sketches of the Claddagh ring uploaded by Chupi indicate they were done as early as April 26. In other words, it means the Claddagh was likely commissioned between Australia and Italy. In fact, if we are to believe Chupi when it said it took four weeks to make the ring, then it had to have been commissioned by May 9, 2024, at the latest. Oh, lookie there, that’s Day 1 of the Italy interviews.

But, before we get to May 9, let’s pause on April 29. That was the day Luke’s InStyle spread was published – yes, the one I mentioned earlier. Luke has pictures from this photoshoot still on his Instagram grid – in fact, Nicola commented, “Yess dude!!” on them – but those aren’t the pictures I want to talk about. No, I want to talk about the pictures InStyle posted on its Instagram grid that day. These photographs came directly from Luke, which was confirmed by the InStyle article when it said, “…the actor delighted the InStyle team by delivering the polaroid photos he’d taken for this story tucked oh-so-carefully in a little brown bag for safekeeping.” The pictures Luke provided, among others, included one where he was laying on a blanket in front of the Griffith Observatory in Los Angeles; one where he was sitting at a table marked with the number “95;” and one where he is sitting in a lounge chair on a rooftop. If you want to see the pictures, InStyle still has them available – you just need to go through hundreds of posts to find them. Luke did not like this InStyle post, which was kind of odd because he was tagged in it, and they were reportedly his pictures.

Why did these InStyle polaroids seem so familiar?

Oh, that’s right, because they were.

Remember that April 7 post of Antonia’s I mentioned a bit ago? Yeah, the one where Antonia posted a bunch of random pictures from Los Angeles and – only after InStyle posted Luke’s polaroids – fans realized Antonia had preemptively posted her version of some of Luke’s polaroids.

I am not going to speculate too much about these pictures or their implications in this blog post, but these pictures may resurface in future posts because I find myself side-eyeing the fact they even exist. And, we should probably accept that Luke was aware of them before his pictures came out on April 29 because he threw a like on Antonia’s April 7 post. Could it have been a “blind” like? Sure, I guess, but the logical side of my brain says he probably looked through them at the time she posted. Let’s not worry too much about it right now, though.

After trying to write out my “general” opinion about the pictures several times, I finally decided that the best way I could articulate my thoughts was through the conversation I had with my father. Yes, Dear Dad returns again for another insightful Q&A.

I started by showing Luke and Antonia’s three “matchy” pictures to my dad and then asked him to compare them. To be clear, the pictures were their respective Griffith Observatory, Table 95, and Rooftop Lounging pictures.

Me: “So what do you think?”

Dad: “About what?”

Me: “Ugh! Why did Antonia take those pictures?”

Dad: “Well, to show she’s part of the ‘in’ crowd. The only reason I can see them being taken is if she was going to put them on the Internet.”

Me: “Uhh, as a matter of fact, she did put them on the Internet! Approximately three weeks before Luke’s were published.”

Dad: “See! I’m not as dumb as you think.”

Me: “Whatever. So, you really believe that? She took them to show people that she was, like, there?”

Dad: “Yeah. Why else would she take them? They’re not the kind of photos you’d take normally. What’s she going to do, put them in an album and show her friends in five years and say, ‘Look, I sat in Luke’s chair?’ Who does that? Nobody. Plus, Luke’s pictures look like they were taken with a polaroid camera and Antonia took hers with, I guess, a phone. Why use two different cameras? Again, it doesn’t make sense. Seems to me like she knew what pictures he was taking, and she was trying to copy them so she could put them on the Internet.”

Thanks, Dad.

You do not have to accept my father’s thoughts on the photographs. Everyone is entitled to their own opinion. However, I think we can meet in the middle and opine that, at a minimum, Antonia’s pictures caused the weak Lukolas to jump overboard; at most, they gave some people stalker vibes; and somewhere in between, they introduced Antonia's negative influence over the fandom and what some may consider trolling behavior (even if it wasn’t recognized then).

Now, before we land in Italy on May 9, let’s summarize what has happened during the preceding two months.

First, we had Luke traveling to Los Angeles in March with Antonia, either alone or as part of a friend group. Luke had pictures of himself taken while there.

Second, we had Antonia posting pictures in early April that would be linked directly to Luke’s pictures by the end of the month.

Third, throughout the month of April, we had Luke and Nicola traveling together for the World Tour. We have all seen these interviews, and we have all formed independent opinions about them.

Fourth, based on Chupi’s own words, we know the Claddagh ring must have been commissioned no later than May 9.

Okay, now we’ve reached May 9, Day 1 of the Italy press junket.

Besides the press interviews, what happened on that day?

Well, Antonia reposted Luke singing Coldplay’s “Yellow” to her TikTok account.

Uhh… Huh. Interesting.

I mean, it’s possible that this was just a coincidence and she just liked Luke’s version of it. Or, it’s possible Antonia knew that “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song and she anticipated trolling Nicola and/or the fandom with it. But, if we believe she knew “Yellow” was the Polin wedding song, that means either Luke told her, or someone with that knowledge told her (i.e., someone from Luke’s team or family/friend group). We also know that Luke mentioned this song in the May 16, 2022 Netflix Tudum article when Nicola and he were asked about their song choices for Season 3. Luke stated his frontrunner was “Yellow” by Coldplay “because of Penelope’s dresses.” Regardless of why Antonia posted the song, I find it hard to imagine Netflix, Bridgerton, Shondaland, Nicola, or Luke were too impressed by Antonia resharing it on TikTok. I mean, at this point, Netflix & Co. would surely have been aware that Antonia’s “copycat post” went over with the fandom like a wet blanket in December in Canada. I imagine some questions were being asked and Luke may very well have received a hand slap from Corporate – and maybe even from Nicola.

But, that’s not the only thing that happened on May 9.

Luke posted his Homme magazine spread to his Instagram grid on that day, too. He captioned the post, “Chatting through all things S3 with @hommeplusmag [o]ut next week x.” Nicola commented, “Yessss,” and Luke tagged his post with the location of Hackney, London. That last part – about Luke tagging the location in Hackney – apparently sent the fandom into a deep-dive of…Nicola’s backyard. Why? Because Nicola lives in Hackney (Nicola herself confirmed she lived in Hackney in a March 18, 2024 interview with Derry Now), and rumors started to circulate that Luke’s pictures were taken at her home.

Hmm, I didn’t realize May 9 was such a busy day, did you?

So, which came first – the chicken or the egg? Did Antonia repost “Yellow” to her TikTok before Luke posted his Homme in Hackney images to Instagram, or vice versa? I’m sure someone out there has this information. The answer might help shine some light as to why Luke and Nicola seemed “off” in the early part of their Day 1 Italy interviews. But, then again, does the order really matter? Regardless of who posted first, it would seem to me that “Yellow” was a very possible culprit for the different energy on set that day.

That, or Luke really was peeved over someone spilling his coffee.

[keepingitformyself]

older (and wiser): i

synopsis: in which time could have never undone what she left.

A/N: FIRST WANDA FIC!!! had this idea long ago when i was crushing hard on this girl from the theatre program at my uni; around that time i had also seen ‘past lives’ and i wanted to do something similar with that film. also at my core i know wanda maximoff would’ve totally been a theatre kid, this is me paying ode to that. while this specific part doesn’t go into that, i am gonna work on a sort of prequel to this Short Series…anyways enjoy!!!

pairings: wanda maximoff x reader

genre: angst?

warnings: it’s sad. but it gets hopeful…

MASTERLIST part ii

please do not repost my work anywhere for any reason at all. if you do see this happen to any of my stories, please let me know. thank you x.

it had been years.

wanda had finally decided to take a breather. she’d been working non-stop ever since she left for work all those years ago after college.

she didn’t think she’d get so lucky off that one job, that it’d immediately get her into another, or another, and so on and so forth.

she loved her work, sure, but now it was catching up to her. everyone in her life, her manager, her agent, her family had all begged her to slow down.

“take some time off, wanda.” her agent, daniel had said to her during a meeting. wanda’s eyes traveled between daniel and her manager, samara.

the meeting had all been a set up. what wanda thought was supposed to be a discussion on a new project, was actually a ploy. she had no idea the meeting was meant to convince her to take a break.

“yeah right.” she scoffed. not believing in what they were saying.

“we’re serious, wanda.” samara stated, her eyes stern but with genuine care. “when was the last time you had time for yourself?”

wanda remained silent at the words. all of a sudden she felt like a kid being scolded by their parents. and she wished to be anywhere else but in the room with them.

“really.” daniel starts. “go be a real person. smell the flowers, meet people, fall in love, take in the view—”

“i meet people all the time, daniel.” wanda quickly cut in.

all daniel could do was shake his head, a sigh escaping his lips as he tried his hardest to make the woman in front of him understand.

“you know that’s not what i meant, wanda.” he gives her a pointed look.

with a jaw clenched, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked off to the side. the windows overlooking los angeles now seeming more interesting than this conversation.

“we know how much it means for you to work, we know how much you enjoy it, but you’ve been doing it for so long. we just want you at your best.” she hears samara say. and as much as she hated to admit it, daniel and samara were right.

wanda hadn’t stopped working since she started. in fact, it’s all she can think to do. she didn’t have anyone outside of work—no partner, no obligations except to her family. why stop when there was nothing waiting for her?

wanda knew the answer but wouldn’t admit it. she might as well never have fully faced it.

the truth was, she’d loved someone once. she’d loved you. and no matter how much time had passed, the thought of you still gnawed at her.

though everything was perfect for a while, her career was well off, she was successful, and her family was proud.

but wanda couldn’t help asking, is this really it?

of course, she tried meeting people. she really tried. she didn't like being miserable over someone she hadn't been in contact with for years. but even that wasn't enough. it was honestly a bit pathetic. it had happened years ago. four years, to be exact. wanda should’ve been well moved on by now, but she isn’t. at least not entirely.

so, she poured everything into her work to distract her from that gnawing feeling inside her. the one that had been lit up all those years ago. the one that was tamable with you around.

but you’re not around, and wanda couldn’t help but throw herself into more work hoping she could get rid of it, get rid of you. but she hasn’t.

“listen, wanda,” daniel cuts her train of thought. “your work is important and people need it, but to keep it up to that degree, you need to go out and just be a human.” he finishes.

wanda sighs. she leans forward on her knees and drops her head into her hands. daniel was right. they were both so right.

wanda never properly dealt with things. maybe it's time she finally did.

she looks up from her hands, a look of defeat yet understanding, with pursed lips she finally says,

"fine."

and now, two months later, wanda finds herself back in los angeles, in an empty home, eating expensive sushi.

she had gotten off the phone with her brother, pietro, who had just joined her on the recent trip she’d been on.

a trip that he insisted he’d join her on to make sure wanda would do all the resting and touristy things she should.

she had done all the traveling she could do in the last two months, jumping from plane to plane. talking to strangers, being a tourist in european cities, and befriending random people in planes.

now, wanda actually had time for herself, time with her brain. a thing she honestly didn't want to face. because even thinking about anything made it even more real.

but now wanda was bored, and the movie playing on her eighty-inch television wasn't doing much to entertain her. and it also didn't help that it was eleven pm on a thursday night and all wanda could do was feel bad for herself.

so she does the next thing she had been really trying to avoid,

stalking your social media.

wanda herself wasn’t much active online these days. she had much to do day-to-day and week-to-week, rarely would she ever have the patience to sit down and scroll through her phone much. that and she honestly tried to stay off of it.

but now she has the time. and the patience. and honestly, she’s a little scared at what she could find.

she tells herself it doesn't have to mean anything. just a little check-in to see how you were, after that she'd really work on trying to forget about you altogether.

and with the simple type in of your name, wanda finds your instagram. your profile picture, a professional headshot of you, and a bio that reads,

editor in chief.

New York Times contributor.

something that shouldn't have made wanda's chest burst with joy, but it does. and as she scrolls further and further, she finds that you now reside in new york city, that you've moved on well without her and that you have a cat and a boyfriend.

boyfriend.

she shouldn't care so much, but she does.

you were living your best life. the one you had always wanted.

just not with her. not with wanda.

but she doesn't stop there, and she ignores the lump in her throat as she exits your profile and searches for your mother's name.

and maybe she feels her heart break a little when it turns out the boyfriend you had is actually your fiancé. she finds out through a photo your mother posted.

the picture shows you, and a handsome man next to you. you’re both sat outside some restaurant in the city, his arm is thrown over your shoulder while your right hand clutches his left, and there it is. in all its glory—with the diamond on it catching the suns light perfectly. the ring on your finger.

it doesn’t help that he looks so in love with you.

out for lunch with y/n and paul again! i promised them an engagement lunch and we were NOT disappointed. make sure you try Jack’s Wife Freda if you are ever in SoHo!!#motherinlaw #NYC #loveinnewyork

is what the caption reads.

wanda freezes at the fact and immediately throws her phone on the empty seat beside her. she stares at it like it had just offended her.

many things go through her brain. how did you meet him? was it shortly after you broke up? was it really him you wanted to spend forever with? how long did it take for him to ask?

wanda had always loved your mother. a sweet woman who always had your best interests in mind. she had always pushed you to do what you loved. and wanda had always seen that some of her favorite traits of yours had come from her.

after the break up, your mom made sure to check in on wanda. without you ever knowing, wanda and your mom kept in touch, until eventually wanda had cut her line for the sake of fully moving on.

though, she never really fully did.

wanda evaluates what to do next. was this her sign? she doesn’t want it to be sign.

wanda doesn’t want to admit that it seems like you had moved on so completely.

on impulse she looks up your fiancé’s name. “paul” is all she had to type out in your mother’s following before she found his account.

she finds that paul is just as successful as you are. he’s an investigative journalist, born in ireland. he briefly worked at a publication in london but transferred to a firm in new york after a year.

he’s gorgeous, she thinks. he has blue eyes, a kind smile, and he has an accent. it would make perfectly good sense why you would choose him.

wanda’s stomach twists with a mix of happiness and regret.

“fuck!” She whispers to herself.

“of course, you’re happy. of course the man you’re engaged with is actually a decent man! fuck.” wanda says to no one in particular. in frustration, she burries her hands in her hair.

wanda is annoyed at herself.

“i need a drink,” in an instant she’s on her legs making her way to the kitchen. she finds a bottle of wine that has been kept cool in the fridge and she wastes no time in popping it open, she pauses briefly, debating on whether she’d need or glass or not.

to hell with a glass. she thinks, and makes her way back to the couch, she holds the bottle by its neck and takes a long swig from it.

it’s all so perfectly miserable. wanda maximoff stalking her ex-girlfriend on social media while she gets wasted. the self loathing has got the best of her. she finds it all ironic.

wanda maximoff could have anyone she wanted. she knew this. she has everything she could ever want or need. she has credibility, a nice home, the luxury of traveling at any moment she wants.

yet, her mind kept coming back to one thing. the one thing she’d decided she’d leave behind all those years ago. it isn’t fair, she thinks. wanda was young and stupid back then, but she was so so in love. she knew that for sure.

but sometimes…sometimes she really wishes she had fought harder.

briefly, wanda wonders if your number was still the same. if you had ever changed it or at least tried calling her. she wouldn’t know, she had changed it years ago once she started getting more attention for her work.

wanda was really drunk at this point. her better judgment had gone away as soon as she’d picked that bottle out the fridge. there was no better time than now.

she taps on her phone until she lands on the number keypad. her fingers hover over it, would she regret it if she didn’t? probably. would she regret it if she did? probably.

but if there was one thing wanda had, it’s that she’s got nerve and audacity.

so she types in the number that she doesn’t think she could ever forget, and lets it ring.

your fiancé answers the call.

“hello?” an irish accent sounds through the speaker. paul. wanda’s blood runs cold and she stays silent for a moment. all of sudden she feels incredibly sober and regretting making the call.

“hi.” she pauses. “uhm, i’m looking for y/n?” wanda manages to squeak out.

“right! who is this? your number isn’t saved.” paul says,

“an old friend. i changed my number a while back.” wanda replies smoothly.

“oh! let me pass her to you, she’s just in the kitchen.” the line goes quiet for a few moments, and she’s able to hear a few words exchanged between you and paul.

“hello?”

wanda freezes again, a hand covers her mouth as she tries not to shake at the sound of your voice. it’d been so long. she grips her phone tighter.

“hey…” her voice shaky and unmistakable. you know it’s wanda.

“wanda?” your voice betrayed the surprise you felt. from the couch paul caught your eye, a raised eyebrow on his face. everything okay? he mouthed.

you shook your head.

“i wondered if your number was still the same.” wanda says after a moment. her tone light, but with an undercurrent of something else.

your mind raced. why was she calling you? why now? your fiance was in the other room, you were getting married soon. you’d built a life perfectly fine without her in it. so why was she calling you now?

“how have you been?” her voice cuts through the line again. wanda holds the phone close to her ear, wanting to make sure she could hear every word you say.

and all you can think of is how confused you were.

“i- i’m fine. i’m good. yeah.”

“that’s good—”

“i’m sorry, uh…why are you calling?” you find yourself cutting her off. your fingers press against your forehead in act of trying to understand what was happening.

wanda pauses. she realizes just how impulsive this whole thing was. she’s on the phone with her ex of four years, while your fiancé was probably in the other room. she goes silent again. her words have to be carefully measured.

she gulps,

“uhm…i just—i just wanted to know how you were. heard you’re based in new york now...so…” wanda trails off. you don’t miss the tone in her voice as she says those words. the familiar rasp, the lowness of her voice, she’d used it many times on you when she wanted something.

you close your eyes with a sigh, “yeah. yeah, i live in new york now, engaged and everything.”

wanda smiles through the phone, her eyes almost prick with tears at the corners.

“i saw," she says just above a whisper. "congratulations, you…you’ve always wanted that.” and she means it. she knows better than anyone how much you’ve wanted this.

suddenly a wave of nostalgia hits you, and you’re brought back to when you were both in college. so young, so dumb, but god, it was one of the best times of your life. you try not to let it affect you, how much this call seems to be doing for you. you haven’t yet figured out if it’s a good or bad thing.

“thank you." your voice softens. "how have you been?” you find yourself asking her next.

wanda smiles at your question, “life has been…insane, you know?” she pauses on the line. “still missing some pieces, but overall i’m doing well,” you pretend not to hear the sudden shift in her voice when she said that.

you exhaled quietly, unsure of what to say. the air between you felt charged with unspoken words, old memories stirring to the surface.

“can i see you?” she asks, her tone hesitant. “catch up in person? i’d really like to see you.”

with your bottom lip between your teeth, you contemplate your next words. paul notices your tick from the other his seat on the couch, despite you telling him it was okay he couldn’t help but worry. he’d heard enough of the call to know something was wrong. still he knows you had it down, so he waits until you need him.

you struggle to find your words for a moment, the question being so…why?

“oh, wanda, i don’t know if—”

but wanda ever the stubborn woman she is, doesn’t relent.

“please. Just for some coffee and conversation.”

your mind is torn between keeping your peace or taking wanda up on her offer. but you were curious.

with a sigh you finally decide.

“where and when?”

you can hear wanda’s smile through the phone,

“i can fly to new york anytime you’re free. you can pick a spot and i’ll be there.”

you think for a few moments.

“okay, meet at caffe reggio in greenwich. i’ll be in touch with when.”

wanda’s heart stutters, something she hadn’t felt in a while. her eyes flutter closed, she breathes in— out. her eyes open again. and though you can’t see it, there’s a new look in her eyes.

“i’ll be there.”

[kjupchurch-xx]

⭐️ Perfect ⭐️

                            July 26th, 2024

                       Los Angeles, California

                Deadpool & Wolverine Premiere

Tonight was the night we'd all been waiting for, the night we've worked so hard for. Tonight was the premiere party for Deadpool & Wolverine. I'd been working with the director, Shawn Levy along with making sure Hugh and Ryan had everything they needed while on set. I developed a super close friendship with Hugh and Ryan during the long filming process. I'd also gotten close with Blake, Ryan's wife. To be quite honest, everyone on our crew is probably the only people I'd consider friends since moving to Los Angeles four years ago.

I've done several films as a director's assistant over the last three years, but this film had been the greatest project I'd been apart of. Blake and I were at my home getting ready for the premiere while Hugh and Ryan were with Shawn preparing to meet us at the premiere. Our stylist came by earlier to finish up Blake and I's hair and makeup. They had us both sporting cute up-dos with a more natural makeup look with lighter neutral colors.

"I wonder what the guys are wearing tonight." Blake said while slipping into her beautiful red dress.

I shrugged, grabbing my black dress, sliding it on, "I don't know. Shawn wouldn't say."

She chuckled, "He never does. Did your ex finally stop blowing you up? Wasn't he trying to like show up on set some of the days we were filming?"

I rolled my eyes with disgust, "Yes, and yes. It's so funny how you ignore someone when you're with them and cheat on them but once they leave you on your ass, you want their attention."

We grabbed our stuff and headed towards the door as we saw our ride pulling up the driveway, "Have you met anybody you're even interested in yet? Best way to get over someone is to get under someone else."  She smirked.

I laughed, shaking my head as we climbed into the SUV that was picking us up to shuttle us to the event, "Shut up, Blake. You're stating to sound like your husband."

She laughed, smiling at me, "You say that like it's a bad thing."

I looked at her, sarcasm dripping through my facial expression and my voice, "It is."

She took a hesitant breath, "Seriously though, someone asked me about you."

I looked at her curiously, "And who would that be?"

She smirked, "Hugh. He was at our place the other night while you and Shawn stayed behind to finish up cutting scenes."

My jaw dropped, "What did he say?"

She shrugged, "He just asked us how long you'd been single and if he seemed like your type. He said he thinks you're gorgeous."

I turned to face her, completely flabbergasted, "You are so full of shit, Lively."

She burst into laughter, "Ask Ryan!"

I widened my eyes, shaking my head, "He's more full of shit than you are!" I failed to contain my laughter at this point.

She giggled, "Just watch. Pay attention to how he looks at you at the premiere. You'll see."

I playfully rolled my eyes, "Okay, Blake."

Had Hugh actually talked to Ryan and Blake about me? He was a nice guy. We'd become friends since we met on set over a year ago. We'd done some press together and make each other laugh, but for some reason, I doubt he'd be interested in me. Not that there's anything wrong with me, he's just one of the biggest A-List celebrities in the world. He's also not even one year out of separation from his wife of 27 years. Dating is probably the last thing on this man's mind.

The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. I couldn't shake my thoughts. I think he's handsome, he's absolutely ripped and his personality is out of this world. His accent is pretty sexy, too.

As we pulled up to the premiere location, Blake and I exited our vehicle, "Let's go, girls." Blake said, channeling her inner Shania Twain causing me to smile.

"Where's the boys?" I asked as we walked down the corridor.

Blake checked her phone, "They're waiting to step onto the red carpet. Which is..." she trailed off while looking down the corridor, "Right down there on the left."

I nodded, trying to hide my nerves. I've been on other movie sets, I've worked with other stars but I've never done a red carpet event. What if I fall and bust my ass? What if my dress malfunctions? So many what-ifs. As we arrived to the end of the corridor, I see Hugh, Ryan and Shawn waiting for us. Blake walks over to Ryan and they share a quick kiss.

"Anyone else feel like a 3rd wheel?" I jokingly said towards Hugh and Shawn, causing Shawn to shake his head and laugh, "Every time I work with these two." He said.

Hugh hooked his arm around mine, "You can be my date tonight." He gave me a smile.

I blushed, looking towards Blake as she gave me a silly 'I told you' look while hooking her arm around Ryan's. "Ohhhh, Big Deb's gonna be pissed!" He spat jokingly causing us all to laugh.

Hugh shrugged, "Oh well. She's the one that wanted to end things. Time to move on. Plus, I don't want to be the nerd showing up without a date." He said with a laugh and cheeky grin.

Ryan looked at me, "Fuck you, your first time on the red carpet and you're going as Hugh Jackman's date. I had to fondle his balls just to get him on this film. You lucky, lucky girl."

I shook my head, about to ruin my 2 hour makeup job from tears hitting my eyes at this point due to laughing so hard. "Guys, I'm pretty sure we need to go out there." I chuckled pointing towards the doorway that led to the red carpet.

We all nodded in agreement and made our way out. The sound of the thousands of photographers, fans screaming and journalists on the red carpet filled my ears. I felt Hugh tighten his grip on my arm, whispering in my ear, "Don't be nervous, you're gonna do great!" Causing me to smile.

We all posed for pictures as the reporters went wild. Hugh had not been seen in public with anyone since his split last year, so this was a big deal. The movie we'd all worked our asses off on was a big deal. The shouting was unreal and unbelievably loud.

Blake and Ryan went to another spot to do solo photos, leaving Hugh and I to ourselves on the carpet. A reporter took this as his perfect moment to approach us with rapid fire questions I was bracing myself for.

"Hugh. Kaitlyn. How does it feel to be on the red carpet tonight?" He asked, shoving the microphone into our faces.

We at looked at each other, "It feels great, mate. Glad to be here." Hugh said with a smile.

"Like he said, we're honored to be here." I said with a big smile.

"Kaitlyn, this is your first time on the red carpet." The journalist said matter of factly.

I nodded in agreement, noticing Hugh has not taken his eyes off of me. "It is."

The journalist continued to pry, "First red carpet and you're on Hugh Jackman's arm, how does that feel?" He asked.

I blushed, "Ryan Reynolds paid me to be his date. Someone had to take one for the team." I smirked, causing the journalist and Hugh to laugh.

As we continued our walk down the carpet, Hugh moved his hand from my arm to around my waist. We talked with many more journalists and posed for hundreds of photos before heading off the carpet to the back of the venue. There were some artists that were due to perform for the event. Some of them included Ed Sheeran, Taylor Swift, Jelly Roll, etc.

Hugh looked over at me, "Noldsy paid you, huh?" He joked.

I joked, "Only a few hundred."

He playfully gripped his chest, "Ouch."

I threw my hands up signaling defeat, "If it helps, I'm glad I took one for the team and you weren't stuck holding Shawn on the red carpet."

He grimaced playfully at the sight, "You're certainly the prettier one."

I snickered. "Am I?"

He nodded with a cheeky smile, "Loads, sweetheart."

I'm starting to think Blake may have not been as full of shit as I'd thought. We made our way back to Blake and Ryan catching up in the crowd to watch the musical entertainment of the night. Taylor Swift took the stage first, causing Ryan to fan girl. Ed Sheeran came on right after, all was great until he began performing his hit song 'Perfect'. All of the couples in the crowd had begun slow dancing. It was a romantic, sweet song but being single in a crowd of couples was depressing.

I felt a presence behind me as a hand made its way to my lower back, "Care to dance with me?" I heard in an Australian accent.

I looked over my shoulder to see Hugh smiling a bit nervously. I turned to face him and gave him a nod and small smile, allowing him to pull me into his arms for a slow dance. We both swayed to the song, singing along, never breaking eye contact. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't hoping he'd kiss me. I could tell he was thinking about it as his eyes kept trailing from my eyes to my lips as he held me close, continuing to sway to the sound of Ed Sheeran serenading the crowd.

I slowly bit my lip as I noticed his eyes glance at my lips again. His face slowly coming closer. I could feel Blake and Ryan's gaze on us wondering what was about to happen. Did I even know what was about to happen? Did I want to know? Before I could process any more thoughts of my own, I felt his lips on mine. They were soft and he smelled so damn good.

I know we're standing in a room full of hundreds of thousands of people, but in this moment, it feels as if he and I were the only two people in the room. The kiss was slow and passionate.

He slowly pulled away, still swaying me and looked at me, "I'm sorry, but I've had a crush on you ever since we began working together. I've wanted to ring you so many times and tell you, but I didn't want to complicate things on set."

I smiled pulling him for another kiss, nibbling on his bottom lip before pulling away, "Ryan actually didn't pay me to be your plus one."

He chuckled, "I know."

I looked up at him, "Can we go somewhere else? Somewhere more private?"

He nodded, grabbing my hand, leading us through the massive crowd of people. As we made our way down out of the concert venue back to the corridor, we noticed Blake and Ryan already ahead of us.

"Ah Pal, gettin' lucky, huh?" Ryan smirked.

Hugh and I laughed, "We are too. It's okay. Embrace it. Embrace the amounts of great sex you're about to have." Ryan continued while nodding his head as if he were a love guru.

"Goodnight, Ryan." We both said in unison watching Blake, who was unable to control her laughter at this point.

Hugh and I made our way to the car and of course couldn't escape the sea of paparazzi. Except this time, we didn't pose for pictures and continued to the car. There were pressing matters that needed to be attended to first. Once we got into the car, we instructed the driver to take us to my house.

Hugh rested his arm around my shoulders, "How long have you known?"

I looked at him, confused, "How long have I known what?"

He looked at me seriously, "That I have a thing for you."

I shrugged, "I actually didn't. Blake mentioned it to me earlier, but I assumed she was full of shit. Kind of like the time you told Ryan to come to your Christmas party in an ugly sweater so he shows up and everyone else is in Dior."

Hugh laughed, "Love, you're anything but an ugly sweater at a party full of people wearing Dior."

I began laughing, "You get the point."

He gave me the boyish smile that had melted my heart since the first time I saw him onscreen and pushed a fallen strand of hair behind my ear, "You are the most elegant, beautiful woman I've ever laid eyes on."

I blushed, "You're not so bad yourself. I've actually had more of a school girl crush on you since the first X-Men movie."

He smiled cockily, "Really?"

I nodded, "Really."

He pulled me in for another kiss, this time pulling me onto his lap, deepening the kiss. I could feel his erection growing beneath me, causing me to pull away so we didn’t cause our driver to have a wreck before we made it back to my place.

“So what do we do now?” I asked casually, looking at him.

He shrugged, getting close to my ear, whispering “We’re going back to your place first, then I’m going to fuck you into the middle of next week. After that, we’ll cuddle. I’ll make you pancakes in the morning and after that, you’ll never want to leave.”

I chuckled pulling him into another kiss.

[samsalami66]

Hiii Ssammyy! @embroiderling here!

I've just seen you posted that long list of prompts. Can I ask for a fake marriage/relationship dreamling, with the prompt "kiss me while everyone's looking."?

🫶

Hey there @embroiderling! Have this little fic I definitely didn't write just after I got that prompt... <33

Read here or on ao3!

Dream wasn’t entirely sure what led him to the situation he was currently in; running down the streets of Los Angeles like he was chased by the devil. Perhaps it had all started when he met Hob Gadling on the set of his latest show, witty and charismatic and throwing him smiles that would light up the entire room. Or it had been when Dream found himself smiling back, accepting the easy friendship Hob proposed for them and meeting him outside of filming for drinks and movie night and sleepovers at his home spent trading stories and a glass of wine.

But actually, it had probably been the moment Dream agreed to Hob’s insane plan of marrying him. 

Yeah, they probably skipped a few rather important steps right there, between friendship and marriage, but that was not really the problem they were facing. No, the fact that they were two of the most well-known actors in the industry that married for something as crude as a green card was not really the problem. The fact that they had both been married before, that Hob was a widower and Dream divorced, was also not it. 

The problem was that being married to Hob was easy. Too easy. Marriage with Calliope had been… harder. They had both been characters, stubborn and intense and with a temper to match. For Dream, marriage had always been about damage control, about preventing some inevitable argument or other. But eventually they would always end up yelling or crying or hurting each other, before doing it all over again the next day. 

Marriage with someone Dream had never intended to marry, had not even found himself interested in at first, should have been worse. 

Instead, marriage with Hob Gadling was heavenly. They lived together. Shared a bed. Hob did not mind Dream cuddling up to him to steal some of his body heat. They would read together on the couch, then talk about their current books while they made dinner. When Dream complained about the laundry needing to get done, Hob would do it and not allow him to help. He would come back with a pot of tea and the offer of a massage should Dream’s feet or back or neck hurt from acting all day. 

Dream found himself searching Hob’s touch whenever he could and never being denied. When out on his own he would see something and bring it back home for Hob and receive the world’s biggest smile in return. So he did it again. And again. Their living room was overloaded with antiquities and books and little trinkets, all lovingly displayed. 

And they never fought. Over a year of living together, of sharing a house, a room, a bed, a life, and they did not fight once. How could life with Hob be so good, when Dream’s entire life before hadn’t been? 

Well, the answer should have been clear. But for some reason, Dream hadn’t noticed. He hadn’t noticed, and now Hob was gone. Not gone gone, just. Gone. His friend, his husband, was gone from their home and Dream did not know where he had disappeared to after their… disagreement. It hadn't been a fight. Because in a fight, both parties got angry. In a fight, partners tried to hurt each other after they had been hurt first. But Dream hadn’t been hurt by Hob. Hob would never hurt him, not in a million lifetimes. Instead, he hurt his friend for no reason but his own stupidity and insecurity. 

And now… now he was running. Not away. He was running towards Hob. Or at least he hoped so. Finding his husband was a much harder matter than Dream had hoped for when he started running. But he was getting closer, he was sure of it. Their bench. That would be where Hob was. Sitting on the right side, peas in hand, feeding the pigeons. It had been one of Dream’s favourite rituals. Whenever a role got to him too much, twisted his stomach into knots and left his heart aching, he would sit on that bench and feed the pigeons. 

And now, as Dream turned the corner, he saw his husband sitting in the spot he had claimed when he had first joined Dream in this little ritual of his. Those beautiful brown eyes were staring off into the middle distance, while one of his hands threw peas to a flock of birds and the other turned his wedding ring around between his fingers. 

The sight made Dream’s heart ache, his best friend reduced to nothing but numbness. He had done that, and he would make it right again. 

“Hob,” he called once he was close enough to be heard, and his husband’s eyes immediately snapped towards him. There was surprise there, possibly at the sheen of sweat that plastered Dream’s hair to his face, proof that he ran all the way here. Not that he stopped just because he found Hob. No, he ran straight into his husband’s arms, which wrapped around him all too willingly. 

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, love? Are you alright?” The words ached, because Dream was not worth this level of care after how he had hurt Hob. But now that he wasn’t running anymore he couldn’t breathe, and so he allowed his husband to hold him for a moment, just until he could form an actual response. 

“I am sorry, Hob. For what I said.” There was no answer and Dream supposed that none could be given anyway, and so he continued. “I had not realised how… deep your affections for me were. I. I expected some catch, for I had not known marriage could be so wonderful.” 

There was pain in Hob’s eyes and Dream suspected it was not because of him, but rather for him. 

“And here I was, thinking I’ve been rather bloody obvious.” 

Dream huffed a laugh and took Hob’s hand in his, so that their wedding bands were resting against each other. “Looking back, I wonder how you ever became an actor.” That, at least, got him a grin. “I do not want to leave you. Not when the five years are over, not ever. You’re it, Hob.” Silence, stunned, but there was also a bud of hope that was threatening to spill into a smile so bright it would break Dream clean in two. 

“So kiss me now, husband mine, while everyone in this blasted park is looking.” 

[yeehawllywood]

INTRO POST

Hey I’m AP, I’m a stone butch from California & I work in TV & film as a Comedy Storyboard Artist, Director, and (part time) On Set Horse Wrangler. I rejoined tumblr for the first time since high school because it’s the only strong butch/femme community I’ve seen actually get it. I make content on social media and didn’t want another page for posting my reels and art, so I’m just here for the dyke-posting & reblogging cool shit.

ABOUT ME

Name : AP

Nickname: “Pinkie”

Late 20s, Extrovert, Trade Unionist, Gemini, Any Pronouns but masculine terms only (ex sir, bro, handsome as opposed to ma’am, girl, pretty). But I won’t be offended.

Old school stone butch by all means.

California born & raised but been about everywhere in the US. From NorCal, in SoCal now.

INTERESTS

Hardcore/post hardcore, metal, elder emo nostalgia, labor unions & labor history, real cowboy shit, outdoors, comedy, Butchfemme history, NFL (LA Rams), theater, my job.

HOBBIES

Outside of work I do volunteer large animal rescue & fire evacuations across Southern California, cow sports, rodeo, and long distance riding.

I am very involved in my union and do a lot of volunteer work. Ive served as a delegate & on our negotiations committee this past year.

I work my Jack Russell Terrier (Beetlejuice) as a ratter. I go to shows and pit. I like exploring Los Angeles. I collect dead critters & bones (Im a “vulture”) mostly sourced firsthand or from friend’s livestock.

CRITTERS

Jeepers- American Quarter Horse, animal actor, 13 years old

Beetlejuice-Jack Russell, >1 years old

those are legally my sons but I have many more in my life that I work & care for.

BOUNDARIES/TRIGGERS

I don’t like to be perceived as feminine, have to hear “Shake It Off”, or see The Dallas Cowboys. I am single but not actively looking & just enjoying life with the homies. Say what you want. Do what you want.

[exeggcute]

interesting links roundup #8

>>> permalink <<<

reading

Abbey’s Road: Ecoterror in fiction and film

Against the dark forest

As if Times Weren’t Unsettling Enough, Saturn Is Losing Its Rings

The California Job-Killer That Wasn’t

Could Unionizing Protect Contestants From The Reality Of Reality TV?

The Depths of Wikipedians

Did a Best-Selling Romantasy Novelist Steal Another Writer’s Story?

Do You Even Maxx, Bro?

The Final Boss of Our Medical Misery

The first thing the baby did wrong... (short fiction by Donald Barthelme)

How the Far Right Reports on the Border

In search of the mysterious "Lucky Luciano," who "had to do it to em"

Inside the Federal Bureau Of Way Too Many Guns

Labor’s Prodigal Son Returns

The Long-Lost Tarzan Atari Game, Preserved

Los Angeles Fire Season Is Beginning Again. And It Will Never End. [2019]

The New Business of Breakups

A Panphonic Poem for Mission: Impossible 3

Phase behavior of Cacio and Pepe sauce

Planet Puppet

Software Bugs That Cause Real-World Harm

The Theory That Volcanoes Killed the Dinosaurs Is Officially Extinct

The TikTok electorate

Was This Half-Billion-Year-Old Wrinkled Sack With No Anus, Previously Believed To Be Our Earliest Ancestor, Actually A Baby Penis Worm?

2024 Shkreli Awards

tools/reference

The Creator's Guide to Comics Devices

Granny Knot Info

Mixbox Painter

Real-time ISS stats

Scale Sequencer

other

DOOM: The Gallery Experience

IMG_0001

Leaving and Waving

Panic World: Did Tumblr turn kids trans? (With Vera Drew)

Science 4 for Christian Schools

[my-wild-imagination1996]

Life is Crazy part I

A/N: This is not proofread and I am not perfect. There will be spelling and grammatical errors. I have not written smut in over 6 years, I’m sorry if it’s terrible. 

THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION BASED ON THE AMAZING HUGH JACKMAN AND MY CRAZY IMAGINATION

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT, alcohol, oral sex (f & m receiving), song referenced in the story is Bed Chem by Sabrina Carpenter, swearing, cum in mouth, mentions of anxiety

PART ONE: YOUR BIG BREAK

Being an independent artist had its perks. Most people still didn’t know who you were so you could usually keep a low profile. You were well known enough to make millions but not known enough for paparazzi to give a fuck about. You were thankful given your anxiety, but you always wished you could reach more people with your music, and occasionally you’d wish that you could be more of a star than you were but you figured if it was meant to happen, then it would. You were sitting in your mini studio that you had set up in the spare room of your Los Angeles suburb home. You were waiting for inspiration to hit you while you played random notes on the keyboard. Your watch started to vibrate to notify you of a call coming through from your manager. You stopped messing with the keyboard to grab your phone and answer the call.

“Hello?” You answered.

“Hey y/n, you’re never gonna fucking believe this but I just had a casting agent reach out to me saying that they want you to audition for a movie.” Your agent stated not continuing to give you more detail.

“What movie is it even for?” You asked, thinking it was weird since you have tons of tattoos and usually movies don’t want that.

“Well, you see, that’s the fucking weird part. Um, it’s for a marvel movie. They only want you to audition so it’s not like a guaranteed thing that you’d get the role.” They told you. 

“Any more information than that?” You asked, trying to understand why you’d be asked to audition for something like this.

“Kevin Fiege wasn’t so open to speaking on the role just that it was for a female anti-hero type deal. Said that their casting director thinks you fit the look of the character perfectly.” 

“Okay. Text me the details and let them know I’m game.” I said thinking that there was no harm in auditioning.

A week had passed since the audition and neither you or your management had heard anything regarding being cast so you honestly didn’t think you got the part which was no surprise to you because of your tattoos. You were having a severe case of writer's block when it came to your music. You were playing Last of Us when your watch started vibrating with an unknown saved number. You hesitantly answered.

“Hello?” 

“Hi, is this y/n?” The man on the line asked.

“This is her?” You responded.

“Great! This is Nathan, I am the assistant to Sarah Finn. She was the casting director of the marvel film that you just auditioned for?” He explained making your eyes go wide with shock.

“Oh great! How can I help you?” You asked, mentally kicking yourself for your word choice.

“Well, we actually wanted to see if you’d be willing to come in again for another audition. We’d actually like to give you more detail about the character and see if you match what we’re exactly looking for regarding this character. If we like it, we’ll be having you do a chemistry test with the character's love interest. How does that sound?” He asked with a friendly tone.

“Absolutely. I’d love to come in again. I just need to know when and where.” You responded excitedly. Nathan proceeded to tell you the audition was in two days here in Los Angeles. They needed you there by 10 AM.

You woke up to the sound of your alarm blasting at seven in the morning letting you know to get ready for the audition. You opt to wear a t-shirt and jean shorts with sandals to the second audition. You straightened your hair and applied light make-up since it’s your normal go to look. You weren’t even sure who the love interest was. You loved the MCU and were honored they thought of you, but you were worried about getting your hopes up and what this meant for your music career. You entered the building and were immediately greeted by the receptionist who told you to take a seat and they’d take you back when they were ready. 

“Hi! I’m Nathan. We spoke on a bit about the role on the phone and what todays gonna accomplish.” The man introduced himself as soon as you sat down, making you stand up again to greet and shake his hand.

“Alright so follow me, we’re gonna be going into this room down the hall. No pressure but we do have Kevin there to see if he likes you or not for the role. Now the role is the character Amethyst Santiago AKA Amethyst. Her powers are much like Agatha or even Scarlet Witch. She’s the most powerful one in the Marvel Universe. She has an intense relationship with the like of one Mr. Wolverine.” Nathan said, making you nervous cause if Hugh Jackman was here you were going to lose your shit since you loved the wolverine movies but also he’s hot as fuck so how could you not be excited.

“Now, if you’ll remember, on the phone, I did mention that if we like what we see, we will be doing a chemistry test between you and Hugh.” You instantly fangirled internally but you felt your hands become slightly clammy because of your nerves. 

“Yes, I remember. Let’s do this.” You said as you entered the room where there was a table filled with people, some you recognized from the last audition and some you didn’t. They handed you a script and advised you how to read the role. You did exactly as they asked and stopped when they said ‘end scene’. Then Kevin spoke. 

“I’m gonna be honest with you, y/n. I like your look for the character and I love how you’re portraying the character. I think it’s time we brought Hugh our to see if you guys can make this vision become reality, but Hugh’s a pro so I gotta say that I think you’ve got this.” He stated.

That’s when you heard the door open and then you saw him walk in and greet everyone kindly, before finally greeting you extending his hand.

“I’m Hugh, your scene partner.” He said flashing you a smile that made you get butterflies instantly. 

“Hi Hugh. My y/n is name.” You responded confidently until you realized what you said. “I mean my name is y/n.” Making Hugh laugh. The executives gave you both a minute to review before getting into the scene. It was quite dramatic and ended with him inches away from your lips before they called the scene.

“Great. Thank you, Hugh. Y/n, we’ve got some things to discuss but you’ll have a response from us either way by end of day. 

“Thank you so much for the opportunity.” You said before heading out of the room and to the bathroom.

As you were walking out of the building towards your car, you were staring down at your phone while walking when you felt someone tap your shoulder. You looked over your shoulder and saw no one other than Hugh.

“Sorry to bother you, but you’re going to get the role so I thought that maybe I should give you my number so that we could get to know each other for the roles.” He said.

“I don’t see why not.” You said opening up the dial pad on your phone to call him so you’d both have each other’s number. You figured he was only doing it for the role considering you were barely in your late twenties and he was in his mid fifties. You made the assumption he probably didn’t see you like that even if you saw him that way.

“I’ll see you around y/n.” He said before walking back into the building.

A few weeks had passed since your encounter with Hugh. You had actually come to meet lots of the stars of your youth. You ended up meeting Ryan Reynolds who you learned was going to be starring as Deadpool in the film. You ended up in a text chain with Ryan and Hugh which you were fine with but they usually just told stupid jokes. Filming was supposed to start in about a month. As a sort of celebration of sorts, Ryan invited you to his house for a barbeque/pool party that he was hosting with Hugh and other various castmates. You brought a beach bag that had your swimsuit but you were currently wearing a floral sundress with sandals. You pulled up to his house in awe of the mansion. As soon as you walked up the driveway, you heard the door open to be immediately greeted by a smiling Blake.

“Welcome to our home. If you end up drinking or anything, we have spare rooms you can sleep in.” She said in a friendly tone. 

“Um, thanks. I have a quick question. I have a THC cart and I would like to smoke it outside if that’s okay.” You asked.

“That’s totally fine. No smoking in the house but the backyard is totally fine. Hugh smokes one too so it’s all good.” She said shutting and locking the door behind you. 

You followed Blake to the back where the music and people were. You observed your surroundings. Nervous because you didn’t really know anyone but Hugh and Ryan. 

“Y/n!” Ryan shouted. “Come get a drink and some food!” 

You smiled shyly and found your way over to him, wondering where Hugh was. Maybe your crush on Hugh was slightly inappropriate given the age difference but you were well over eighteen. 

“Where’s Hugh?” You asked while you grabbed a paper plate and built your plate.

“I think he went to get more liquor from the basement.” Ryan responded while you went to sit at one of the tables they had in their backyard. 

You kept scanning the entrance to the backyard, waiting for Hugh to appear. Honestly, you’d socialized more with Hugh in person during this whole process than anyone else. You felt comfortable around Hugh. You finally saw him walking from the house carrying bottles of liquor. You weren’t much of a drinker and it worried you how much alcohol was around cause you were a lightweight.

Hugh noticed you sitting at the chair eating your food at a table alone so he decided to join you while everyone was doing their own things.

  “Hey there. Hopefully I'm not interrupting your peace.” He said, food and his drink in his hand.

“Hey. Thank you for coming over here. I feel kind of out of place honestly. Ryan is great but I just, I don't know, feel overwhelmed, I guess. I don’t have many close friends and I haven't been to a party this large since I was like twenty so it's definitely nerve wracking.” You over-explained.

“Listen to me. I've been in this industry for ages. I can show you the ropes. Help you navigate this a bit.” He said, trying to reassure you. 

You took a sip of the smirnoff ice that you grabbed. Surveying your surroundings, listening to Hugh ramble about whatever crossed his mind. You took the time to really look at him. The way light reaches his eyes while he smiles. The kindness evident in his eyes. You couldn’t help but be in awe of his beauty, but you didn’t want to come off creepy so you kept your staring to a minimum.

After a few drinks and a few hours, the sun was starting to set and they turned on their backyard lights and then Ryan said it’s time to really party. You looked at Hugh to figure out what he meant, but Hugh just gave you a smile. You shrugged it off, finishing off your drink feeling a bit tipsy, making you more sociable.

“Y/n!” You hear Ryan drunkenly yell.

“I’m over here.” You said standing up causing at least 20 or 30 people who may or may not be drunk looking at you. It made you nervous cause these were mostly famous faces and you were use to being in front of fans. 

“Heard you’re quite the singer.” Ryan slurred.

“Oh no, I am not.” You responded not wanting to really sing in front of everyone.

“I’m a fan of your music so you’ve got to sing something for us.” Blake said really throwing you under the bus. 

Contrary to popular belief being a singer of sorts, you had stage fright and most nights on stage you were either drunk or stoned. You walk over to where Ryan and Blake were stationed because that’s where the liquor was. You poured two shots of tequila. Downing them both. 

“What am I supposed to sing?” You said feeling the liquid courage kicking in.

“Ooooh, you should do something new.” Blake said with a drunken slur. 

You pulled out your phone cause you usually kept samples of beats you were using for projects on there. You hooked your phone up to the bluetooth speaker. You played one you had titled ‘Bed Chem’. You had written only a few days ago when you were fantasizing about Hugh. It wasn’t finished but you’d figure singing what you had wouldn’t hurt. The familiar butterflies of performing in your stomach. You took a deep breath and started singing.

“And what are the odds? You send me a text

And now the next thing I know, I'm like

Manifest that you're oversized

I digress, got me scrollin' like

Out of breath, got me going like, ooh

Who's the cute guy with the white jacket and the accent? Like (Ooh)

Maybe it's all in my head

But I bet we'd have really good bed chem

How you pick me up, pull 'em down, turn me 'round, oh, it just makes sense

How you talk so sweet when you're doing bad things, that's bed chem

How you're looking at me, yeah, I know what that means, and I'm obsessed

Are you free next week? I'd bet we'd have really good

Come right on me, I mean camaraderie

Said you're not in my time zone, but you wanna be

Where art thou? Why not uponeth me?

See it in my mind, let's fulfill the prophecy (Ooh)”

“And that’s all I got so far for this one.” You said, officially a little drunk. Everyone erupts out into applause, making you flash a smile.

“Who did you write it about?” Blake asked you, making your eyes go wide.

“Um, no one. Just a guy I met a few weeks ago.” You responded.

You glanced at Hugh, who was watching you intensely. You walked over to him and took a seat beside him. 

“So what did you think?” You asked nervously while fidgeting with your hands on the table.

“I think whoever you wrote that about is about to be a very lucky man.” He said while moving his hands to caress yours, staring right at you. Letting you know that, somehow, he knew it was about him. You felt your whole body light up the second his skin touched yours. 

You felt heat flush your cheeks and you felt yourself starting to respond to his touch and you had no idea how this man is affecting you so greatly. You moved closer to him placing your hand on his thigh while whispering that you think that you both should head out.

“I just have to say bye to some people and then we can go.” He whispered back.

As he walked away from the table, you became anxious. A million things running through your head but you put your brain together enough to go say goodnight to Ryan and Blake, thanking them for their hospitality. After saying your goodbyes, you made your way to your car when you felt a hand sneak around your waist.

“We most definitely are not driving anywhere.” Hugh said sternly. “You are in no condition to drive and neither am I. I live in this neighborhood. We’re a five minute walk.” He said pulling you in the direction of his home. 

The walk was mostly silent. As you pulled up to his large home, he pulled out his keys and unlocked the door letting you in first.

As you both entered the living room, the dim lighting and the soft glow of the lamp created an intimate atmosphere. You kicked off your sandals, your eyes locking with Hugh's, both knowing exactly where this night was headed. You had been getting together weekly for the last couple months and your chemistry was undeniable. 

Hugh pushed you onto the couch, his strong hands grasping your hips. You landed softly on the cushions, your hair spilling around your shoulders, and a mischievous smile playing on your lips. He loomed over you, his muscular frame casting a shadow on your body, and you felt a tingle of anticipation run down your spine.

"You look so damn sexy right now," he whispered, his voice hoarse with desire. His hands travel up your thighs, pushing your dress higher, revealing your skin. Your breath quickened as you felt his calloused fingers brush against the sensitive skin of your inner thighs. You were soaked already, your pussy throbbing in anticipation of what was to come.

"I don’t think I can wait much longer." he growled, his eyes darkened with lust. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a hungry kiss. Your tongues danced, tasting the remnants of the liquor consumed earlier in the evening, but the flavors only added to the raw passion of the moment. Hugh's kiss was demanding, possessive, and it sent shivers through your body.

Breaking the kiss, Hugh trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, sucking and biting gently, leaving a trail of wet marks on your delicate skin. You arched your back, offering yourself to him, your hands threading through his dark brown hair, pulling him closer. You wanted to feel his mouth everywhere, to experience the pleasure he could give you.

He worshiped your body with his lips and tongue, kissing and sucking on all of your sensitive spots. His hands cupped your breasts, kneading them gently through the fabric of your dress. You moaned, your hands gripping his shoulders, urging him on. 

"Please, Hugh," you whispered, your voice hoarse with need. "I want more."

Hugh chuckled, the sound vibrating against your skin. 

"More, huh? I think we can make that happen." He sat up, his eyes gleaming with mischief. With swift movements, he quite literally ripped your dress open, the fabric ripping easily, exposing your lace bra and the swell of your breasts. You gasped and moaned, a mix of surprise and pleasure rushing through you.

"You like that, don't you, baby girl?" he purred, his fingers teasing the lace covering your nipples. "You love seeing me take control over you, don’t you?" You nodded, your eyes half-closed, your body on fire. You loved the way Hugh was taking charge.

Hugh unhooked your bra, revealing your full, heavy breasts. He bent down, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking and teasing it with his tongue. You cried out, your back arching off the couch as pleasure spiked through you. His hands roamed your body, squeezing and caressing your curves, driving you wild.

"You're so beautiful, y/n," he murmured between kisses. "So responsive. I love watching you fall apart for me." His words only fueled your desire further, causing you to buck your hips, seeking more contact.

Hugh's hands found the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your thighs, his touch deliberate and teasing. You lifted your hips, helping him remove the last barrier between the both of you. You were completely exposed now, your pussy dripping with your arousal. Hugh's eyes darkened even more as he took in the sight of your wetness dripping onto his couch. If you weren’t so turned on you would’ve been slightly embarrassed of what you were doing to his couch.

He positioned himself between your thighs, his hard cock straining against his jeans. You reached for the belt on his jeans, wanting to touch and stroke him, but he caught your hands, pinning them above your head. "Not yet, sweet girl. I want to drive you crazy first."

With that, he lowered his head down your body, trailing kisses along the way until his head was aligned with your core, he pressed kisses along your thighs. He blew gently against your clit, making you shiver. Teasingly close to your pussy but never quite touching it. You squirmed, your body taut with anticipation. 

"Please, Hugh, I need you," you begged.

After what felt like an eternity, he finally granted your wish. His tongue flicked out, tasting your sweetness, and then he dove in, lapping at your juices, his tongue swirling around your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking against his face. He held your thighs firmly, keeping you in place as he devoured your pussy, his tongue fucking you relentlessly.

"You gonna cum for me, y/n?," he growled against your pussy, his words felt vibrations against you. As though it snuck up on you, your orgasm hit you like a wave, crashing over you as you cried out his name. Your body trembled and shook,your juices flowing freely as Hugh continued to lick and suck through your climax. You had never had anyone work you so expertly on the first try.

As your tremors subsided, Hugh lifted his head, his hazel eyes glittering with satisfaction. 

"You're so fucking beautiful when you cum," he said, his voice rough. You let out a light laugh while out of breath.

But Hugh wasn't done with you yet. He stood up, quickly shedding his clothes, revealing his hard, thick cock. Your eyes widened at the sight of him, your pussy clenching with renewed desire. He was older, but his body was a work of art—muscular and sculpted.

"Now it's my turn to taste you," you said as he sat on the couch and you got yourself off the couch moving to your knees so that you were facing his cock. You took it in your hands feeling the weight and girth. You leaned forward, your eyes locking with his hazel ones as you took the head of his cock into your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the tip, tasting the salty pre-cum, and then you take him deeper, inch by inch, until you feel him at the back of your making you slightly gag until he pulls you back by your hair all while keeping his eyes locked on yours.

You sucked and bobbed your head, your lips sliding up and down his shaft, your hands pumping the base in sync with your mouth. Hugh's breath grew ragged, his hips thrusting slightly. You looked up at him, loving the sight of his pleasure, you increased your pace, wanting to give him the same mind blowing pleasure he had given you.

“Holy fuck, y/n, if you keep going like that I’m gonna cum in that pretty mouth of yours." he groaned, his hands tightening in your hair. His words only spur you on and encourage you to suck harder, your mouth slick around him, Hugh's hips bucked as he exploded in the back of your throat with a loud groan. You swallowed, your eyes had never left his but you had tears running down your flush cheeks from taking him so deep. Your eyes never left him as you sucked him dry.

As you had both caught your breath, Hugh pulled you up, kissing you deeply. "That was fucking incredible," he whispered against your lips. You smiled, feeling a sense of pride and satisfaction. This night had not gone as you expected it to and you were nervous about what this meant. Now coming to the realization of what trouble this could bring as he was basically your coworker now.

[whimsiwitchy]

I hear the secrets that you keep (series)

chapter two: life isn’t real

Pedro Pascal x F!reader 

series masterlist

series summary: 24 year old y/n is an insecure and struggling actress in Los Angeles until she finally books a leading role in a big Hollywood movie next to her leading male, Pedro Pascal. A spark of friendship flickers between the two and slowly begins to blossom into something more. As y/n is navigating a new found fame and a new found romance, she fears that a lie she has been sitting on might ruin everything.

Warnings: plus size reader (no specific description of reader, slight descriptions of weight: stomach fat, stretch marks, etc.), hefty age gap (24 years/14 years), female anatomy description, she/her pronouns, use of gendered terms (girl, girly, etc.), y/n used, descriptions of nudity, swearing,  use of the word fat, warnings may change as the story progresses. 

authors note: Hi everyone. Thank you so much to those who read and liked chapter one. I was so excited logging in and seeing the engagement. This chapter might be a little boring as we are leading up to actually filming the movie, the pace should be picking up soon! I hope you enjoy chapter two! <3

chapter summary: y/n processes everything and prepares to start production. 

╔══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╗

“Oh shit..”

You felt like you couldn’t breathe. It felt as if your spirit had jumped out of your body and watched as you received the news of your life changing forever. You were frozen. You could hear Angie speaking on the other line but all you could do is stand there and cry tears of joy and bewilderment. When you finally came to your senses, you caught the end of Angie telling you she was coming over. The two of you partied and celebrated all night long. You were on a high of life. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

It had been a few weeks since the audition and the excitement slowly died down. Fear started to replace that feeling of excitement with all of your insecurities plummeting to the front end of your brain like an avalanche. You knew fear wouldn’t be a stranger on this journey and it first accompanied you when Angie asked if you had shared the good news with your family yet. When you told her you hadn’t said anything to them, she asked why. You simply told her that you wanted to enjoy the moment for yourself before celebrating with everyone else. She accepted that answer and the two of you went about your day, but deep down you knew that wasn’t the truth. 

The truth was that you were scared. Terrified that all of this would go away in the blink of an eye. That the casting director had made a mistake. Maybe there was another y/n that auditioned and got the part. Maybe they realized that you weren’t good enough or even decided to rethink their options. They did make a decision pretty quickly. Usually it took weeks to hear back from casting, not four measly hours. You weren’t someone who often doubted their talent. You did however often doubt how someone may perceive you. You knew you were a capable actress, but you saw the other women auditioning. They were gorgeous. Perfect smiles, perfect style, and most importantly, they were skinny. 

You had always been an insecure person when it came to your body. You became hyper aware of your weight at a heartbreakingly young age. For as long as you could remember, you had been sucking your stomach in and comparing yourself to other girls constantly. You had always believed that you were a pretty person and you had some confidence, but it all seemed to wither away once you grasped the concept that other people might not see all the great qualities and beauty you held behind the weight. You knew that being a plus size actress was possible, but being a plus size leading love interest alongside one of hollywood's hottest bachelors was different than just playing the fat funny friend. You were scared of what people would say about you and filming hadn’t even started yet

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Before you knew it, a whole month had passed and life went back to normal. You were sitting on your couch watching Twilight for the thousandth time and eating hot cheetos when you heard a knock. You stood up, licked the cheeto dust off of your fingers and made your way to the door. You stood on your toes looking through the peephole to see that it was Angie. The two of you gave each other a quick greeting and made your way to the couch. Once you guys sat down, she pulled out a large manilla envelope from her bag and held it out towards you. 

“Is that what I think it is?” you asked with a hint of excitement in your voice and a smile. She doesn’t say anything, she simply gives a warm smile and passes you the envelope. You take it and can immediately feel the slight heaviness it holds. You stare down at the envelope that has your name written in black marker. “What are you waiting for? Open it!” She practically screams. You slowly open the envelope pulling back each of the metal prongs and peeling back the top flap. You reach your hand in and pull out a thick packet. Setting the envelope to the side, your eyes begin to well up with tears. Inside the envelope held the script. On the front it read “Risky Disco” in big bold letters. You can’t help but laugh as a tear falls down your face. “I’m so proud of you y/n. You finally did it, this is your big moment! I can’t believe I’m the best friend of a movie star!!” Angie jokes as she gives you a tight hug. You cry into her shoulder as she holds you. 

Once you composed yourself, the two of you caught up while eating some take out. After eating, Angie begged you to read through the script. The writing was just as cringy as the title. The movie was literally just a guy time traveling, roller skating, and getting it on with a bunch of women. What a shocker. It wasn’t until half way through when your character showed up.

Janet Cromwell. 

“Janet is a sexy name, you’re gonna look so hot in this movie.” Angie says with a giggle.

“If I get to wear gogo boots, I’ll be oozing sexy, just you wait.” Both of you laugh and continue to read. Angie was dramatically reciting the lines of Daniel Mendez, my character’s “boy toy” as described in the brief character description. She stops abruptly and her eyes go wide. You give her a questioning look. “Oh my fucking god! I was right! You get to be sexed up by Pedro Pascal!” She says as she folds over into fits of laughter. You yank the script out of her hand and look for what she was talking about. Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment as you read over the description of a very passionate sex scene that you had to perform with the very man you’ve been trying to get your mind off of since you left the audition room. 

When Angie brought up that he was the main character in the movie, you honestly didn’t know much about him. You had heard his name in passing and had most likely seen him in a show or film at some point in your life, but it wasn’t a name that you could put to a face, even if it were a life or death situation. When you got home after the audition, you whipped out your phone and did a little research. You looked at picture after picture, he was such a beautiful man and just as Angie said, he was indeed pushing 50. That didn’t stop the fact that you thought he was sexy as hell. You couldn’t get the way he smirked at you out of your head. 

“You know, you were right. He is pretty hot.” You smirked and leaned back into the couch, setting the script down on the coffee table in the process. Angie shot up from her hunched over position.“I told you he was! What picture did it for you because I personally love th-” You cut her off before she could continue rambling on. “I didn’t see a picture of him.” She looked at you with a puzzled face. “Oh well did you watch one of his movies or something because I can also tell you which one of those made me-"

"He’s who I read lines with at the audition.” You said calmly. Angie stopped speaking and just stared at you, giving you a few slow blinds before speaking again. “WHAT?!?!?” You laugh at her reaction and cover your face as you blush remembering how you felt during the reading. “Why wouldn’t you tell me that? I have so many questions. Was he even hotter in person? Did he smell good? Oh my god…did you shake his hand? Did you get to touch that god of a man? Were his hands soft?” You waited until she was done rambling to tell her all about the encounter.

 “Well I might have shook his hand when I first walked into the room. I told you I was nervous and just introduced myself to everyone at the table. I think I blacked out a little at that point to be honest.” She’s giving you all of her attention as you continue. “ I just did what I needed to do and it felt good. When they asked me to read lines, he just kind of appeared. I really don’t remember him being there before that point.” You reminisce the moment you looked at him.“He caught me so off guard. His eyes were so intense.” You pause for a brief second. “Ang…I’ve never felt like that before. Like I had all of his attention, like there was no one else in the room with us.” You looked back up at Angie. She was wearing a soft smile. “You better get ready girlie pop. You’re gonna have to see that man shirtless in all of his glory. You’ll have to kiss him and caress his manly chest-” Your face heats up and you smack her arm before she can continue on about what you might have to do with Pedro. 

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

You’re getting ready for bed when you get a notification. You reached over to grab your phone and saw that Angie had sent you an email. You gasp as you read the subject line. 

“Risky Disco Filming Schedule- Fleeting Productions” 

You fumble to open the email as quickly as you can. “Holy shit..” You whisper as you read over your schedule for the next few months. First up was a table read with the entire cast, one week from today. Followed by costume fittings, dance rehearsals, roller skate call, dress rehearsals and intimacy coaching. Your eyes linger on the last one a little longer than the rest. You skim over the rest of the schedule that is filled with various filming dates. Your scenes are being filmed sporadically, giving you time in between to lock in your lines and prepare to be in the presence of a curtain man. 

You were really excited for the table read. They were always so much fun. Everyone gets to showcase their interpretation of their characters early on and as time goes on, you get to see the progression of those characters. You already had an idea of how you would go about playing Janet, but it will ultimately depend on how Pedro plays Daniel and what the director wants. 

Shit. In one week you’ll be face to face with Pedro again and instead of running a few lines together, you’ll be reading about 30 minutes worth of dialogue. If the table read goes in the same direction the audition did, you’re fucked. You just hope you can avoid him outside of reading lines for as long as possible. You really don’t want to embarrass yourself…

╚══ஓ๑♡๑ஓ══╝ 

Thank you for reading <3

next chapter

[williamswifey]

hiii i love all of your fics! could i request a bella ramsey x reader where the reader is part of a well known film like stranger things or a marvel movie and everytime bella and them are in an interview they gush about the reader’s character in the other film, which fans notice and think is adorable😭

𝐈𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔 - 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀 𝐑𝐀𝐌𝐒𝐄𝐘

pairing ; bella ramsey x fem!reader

summary ; bella thinks you’re a fantastic actor and rants about it 🤷‍♀️

content warnings ; none, intense fluff

a/n ; sorry for the filler posts lately, i’ve been lacking in the creativity department for actual plots, so plz send in asks to get my creative juices flowing

masterlist

stranger things season four recently came out, and being one of the main characters, you had been extremely busy with interviews and premieres.

it was all so exciting, you loved seeing fans reactions to the show. you loved being tagged in fan edits, and you loved replying to dm’s and tweets.

just when the buzz from the recent dropping of the season began to die down, you and bella had been invited for an interview by vogue, to give a tour of your shared apartment while answering questions.

you had gotten the email from your manager while you had been finishing up a load of laundry, and you we’re static. you and bella’s relationship had gone public about a year ago, even though the two of you had been dating for longer.

there wasn’t much content out from the two of you, aside from social media posts. now that you thought about it, you and bella had never actually been in an official interview together.

sure, the two of you had been interviewed during premieres together, and the paparazzi took photos of you two together all the time—you had never actually sat down with them for an interview.

you excitedly walked downstairs, seeing bella curled up on the couch with a book in their hand. their head peeled upwards when you came into their line of vision, a small smile tugging at their lips.

“hi, darling,” they said in a soft voice, patting the spot next to them.

you grinned and laid besides bella, your head resting on their lap. bella began to play with your hair, successfully beginning to lull you into a gentle sleep.

just before you allowed yourself to slip into unconsciousness, your brain reminded you of why you went to find bella in the first place.

you opened your eyes, and rolled over to face bella. you gently pried the book out of their hands, placing their bookmark you bought for them on the page they left off at.

you yawned before you began to talk, causing bella to chuckle at you, poking your cheek.

“i thought you were a sleepy girl,” they said, tilting their head to the side.

“i am,” you said, rubbing at your eyes, before sitting up straight, “but i had something to ask you first.”

“oh?” bella said, their interest suddenly peaking as they leaned forward slightly.

“nothing bad,” you assured, taking their hand as you fiddled with their rings, “but i got an email from my manager, asking about a vogue interview with us. we’d have to answer a few questions about each other while showing them our apartment. i think it’s an awesome idea, but if you don’t want to it’s totally fine and—”

bella noticed you beginning to ramble as they placed their free hand under your chin, your eyes meeting theirs.

“i’d love to.”

you smiled, and made a mental reminder to email your manager back. in the meantime, you resumed your previous spot on bella’s lap, feeling their gentle hands against your hair as you fell asleep.

***

two weeks and days worth of cleaning later, you and bella were sitting on your couch, waiting for the camera crew and interviewer to arrive to your apartment.

your apartment was in the heart of los angeles, so traffic was always pretty intense, especially in the late afternoon. you were attempting to mentally prepare yourself to answer questions while bella scrolled aimlessly on their phone.

eventually, you grew bored of staring into space and looked over bella’s shoulder to see whatever they were doing on their phone. you giggled when you saw bella staring at a photo of you from your most recent press event.

“…bella my love, what are you doing?”

bella grew startled as their phone nearly flew out of their hands, face pink. however, bella wasn’t embarrassed about the fact they were looking at photos of you—in fact, they were proud.

“just looking at photos of you, reminding myself how lucky i am.” bella replied, and your face now turned the shade of pink bella’s was moments ago.

bella was such a sap sometimes.

“you’re cute, you know that?” you said, pressing a few kisses to bella’s face.

you two began to play fight, and a few seconds later, bella had pinned you to the couch, and was kissing your neck playfully while you giggled.

your fun was cut short by the doorbell. you groaned, sliding out from underneath bella as you made your way to the door, quickly fixing your hair and lipgloss.

the interviewer arrived with a camera crew, and you and bella began the tour.

***

after a brief tour of your apartment, the camera crew and interviewer got settled on your couch as they began to prepare you both for the interview.

they promised nothing too invasive or intense—but you weren’t worried. your manager promised your assistant had reviewed and approved every question on the list.

bella seemed to be a bit more jittery, and the obnoxious interviewer clearly took advantage of that—as they decided they’d ask bella a few questions first.

“so, bella,” the interviewer began, turning her attention towards bella, “have you gotten the chance to see stranger things season four yet?”

bella shifted in their seat. you honestly had no idea if they watched it or not, and their reply was a complete surprise.

“i have!” bella replied enthusiastically, beginning to fiddle with their rings the way they did when excited, “y/n was absolutely fabulous, as always. and her character? my god. i’ve never rooted for a protagonist more. y/n’s acting is incredible. sometimes i’d be watching the show in our bedroom while y/n was in the living room reading…and i’d just be like—holy fuck. i live with this person.”

bella’s response to you and your character had you blushing manically. your cheeks were bright pink as you fought back a smile, intertwining your hand with bella’s.

their eyes met yours.

“do you really mean that, bels?” you asked softly, heart fluttering as bella nodded.

“more than anything. but i have to admit, your character is way cooler than you,” bella joked, ruining the moment as you gently shoved their shoulder and playfully stuck their tongue out at them.

bella giggled, the both of you completely forgetting that the interviewer was still there, and the camera was still recording.

the two of you were quick to pull it together again, professional as can be.

“but, yeah,” bella said after a moment, “i saw stranger things and it’s probably my favorite tv show at the moment—but i might also be biased.”

this made a chuckle slip past your lips.

you rested your head on bella’s shoulder as the interviewer glanced at the pair of you.

“now y/n,” the interviewer began, “now i guess it’s your turn. i assume you’ve seen the last of us, so what did you think of it?”

your grinned was so large you felt your cheeks widen. as you opened your mouth to speak, you knew your words would rival bella’s previous in an instant.

[hooked-on-elvis]

ELVIS interviewed during filming of 'Change of Habit'

— AMONG OTHER THINGS, YOU'LL LEARN ABOUT HOW ELVIS DID SOME IMPROVISATION IN HIS LINES FOR THE MOVIES AND HOW SELF CONSCIOUS HE WAS ABOUT HIS OWN FILMS

Filmed on location in the Los Angeles area and at Universal Studios during March and April 1969, Change of Habit was released in the United States on November 10, 1969.

Elvis Presley On Set: You Won’t ask Elvis Anything Too Deep?

Elvis talks, but he doesn't say much

BY WILLIAM OTTERBURN-HALL HOLLYWOOD – The notice outside the big grey double-doors was simple and to the point. SET CLOSED, ABSOLUTELY NO ADMITTANCE. You find notices like this outside a lot of film studios, and they tend to have a certain elasticity. This one, outside what looked like an aircraft hangar but was actually Stage D at Universal Studios, meant it. Inside, Elvis Presley was filming. And where Elvis goes, the barriers go up as if some sinister germ warfare experiment were being carried on within. Like a suckling infant, he is swathed and coddled against the realities of the world outside, as if he were made of rare porcelain rather than hewn from good old-fashioned Tennessee stock. But this day he was on show. I had been given the magic formula. The secret open-sesame known only by its brand name of “Colonel Parker’s Okay” had been handed me. The doors swung wide, and I was in. They say Colonel Parker is the man who built Elvis from the erotic gyrating days of the swiveling Pelvis through 14 long and fruitful summers to his present status, by pushing and pulling his protege through the tricky cross-currents of pop music taste. I wouldn’t know. I had asked to see him, this onetime Texas fairground barker, to thank him for the green light. But he was always somewhere else. In his office at Universal, over at Metro, down in Palm Springs, in Las Vegas to lay the trail for the next live show... always somewhere else. No matter. Who needed Colonel Parker when Elvis himself was alive and well and filming? The Publicity Man who escorted me as close as if he were handcuffed said proudly: “I’d like to work with him again, he’s so sweet and uncomplicated. I was surprised you got through – no one’s talked to him yet, you know. There must have been a good breeze blowing.” The good breeze continued to blow as far as the set. A mauve-walled pad with kitchen adjacent and a king-size bed visible through half-drawn yellow curtains. Elvis sat at a table, staring at his hands, while three mini-skirted girls, Mary Tyler Moore, Barbara McNair and Jane Elliott, scurried around with trays of food.

L-R: Mary Tyler Moore, Jane Elliott and Barbara McNair.

The film is about three nuns who pose as nurses to “identify with the people” in a Negro ghetto in New York. The title is Change of Habit (yes, it is) and stars Elvis as a medic who falls for one of the nuns. Elvis is wearing a paint-stained blue denim shirt and tight blue jeans. He looks relaxed and affable and rather meatier around the jaw-line than one remembers from previous films. Marriage (back in May 1967 to Priscilla Beaulieu) is obviously agreeing with him. His eyes have that smoky slow-burn of the old-time movie vamp. He seizes a guitar and strums a few chords. It’s the last week of shooting, and like the good days between exams and the end of term.

The atmosphere on the set is hip and loose, full of leather-clad youth and clever in-talk. The director is thin and intense, wears a check shirt and gym shoes, and is called Billy Graham, which is going to look interesting on the posters of a swinging nun. Elvis produces some dialogue. He is never likely to win an award as an actor, but he knows what the kids want and he gives it to them. The girls are talking about a party. The cameras turn. Elvis says: “You get a lot of people down here on a Saturday night, and all the old hates come out. Before you know it they’re bombed out of their skulls and you’ve got World War III on your hands.”

The scene is this one below. NO, it was not cut out during the editing of this movie.

Earth-quaking stuff. But this simple homespun philosophy is off-key. “Bombed out of their skulls” wasn’t in the script. And the director isn’t too happy about it. “It’s a good line,” says Elvis. “Okay, okay,” says Billy Graham. The line stays. Maybe it will come out in the cutting room, but it’s there for now. “The whole thing is downhill,” says a technician. “He don’t talk to anyone, except his own friends.” There is no sign of tension, but then Elvis has nothing to be tense about. He can go on churning out the same thing for another decade, and they’ll still queue to see it. If he’s over the top, as some unkindly souls occasionally try to make out, he doesn’t seem bothered. He is 34 . . . Raised in Memphis . . . Once a truck-driver, stumbled into records, took the world by storm as the original snake-hips . . . Now lives in cloistered seclusion in a colonial mansion near Nashville, with a Rolls, a solid gold Cadillac, a wife, a daughter (Lisa Marie, aged one) and several bodyguards for company . . . Has made 29 films, grossing 220 million dollars at the box office, and sold more than 200 million records.

Elvis Presley and director William A. Graham on the set of Change Of Habit (Universal 1969) between takes.

Elvis heads for his trailer in the far corner. A group of friends (known in some quarters as the Memphis Mafia) close around him like a football scrum after a loose ball. The code-word is given. I am beckoned over. The good breeze was still blowing. “You won’t probe too deep, will you?” The Publicity Man asks anxiously. “This is just an informal chat, that’s the deal. So keep it light and airy, okay?” Well . . . okay. I checked my notes. Does Elvis fly high on acid trips? Does he see himself as a prophet for the new generation? Does he think his style is too square? Does he have any sexual hang-ups? His marriage altered his attitude to life in any way? Does he kick his cat? Does he have a cat to kick? What are his views on pop, religion, hippies, demonstrators, Vietnam? Stuff like that. No, I wasn’t going to probe too deep. In the dressing room Elvis shakes hands in a firm grip. “This is Charlie, this is Doc.” Two small, burly men light leather jackets and open-neck shirts rise and shine briefly and subside again. The trailer feels a bit crowded.

Elvis Presley on the set of Change Of Habit (Universal 1969). Mary Tyler Moore, Elvis and director William A. Graham share a joke between takes.

Elvis talks. He speaks slowly and carefully, and puts a lot of space between his words. “The film? Uh, well . . . it’s a change of pace for me, yeah. It’s more serious than my usual movies, but it don’t mean I’m aiming for a big dramatic acting scene, no sir. The way I’m headed, I want to try something different now, but not too different. I did this film because the script was good, and I guess I know by now what the public goes for." “Most of the scripts that come my way are all the same. They’ve all got a load of songs in them, but I just did a Western called 'Charro', which hasn’t any songs ‘cepting the title tune. It did have a couple of nude scenes, but they’ve been cut. Anyhow, can you imagine a dramatic Western where the hero breaks out into song all the time?” He has said plenty, and now he leaps to his feet, hands flashing to imaginary holsters, and sings in a deep drawl: “Go for your guns . . . you’ve got ’til sundown to get outa town . . . ” It could be the start of a promising sketch. The others follow suit, singing, clowning, all on their feet. If this is the Memphis Mafia, they’re a friendly bunch.

Elvis on set of 'Change of Habit' (Universal 1969) talking to fans.

Elvis sits down, and everyone stops singing. He eyes himself in the dressing room mirror. “I don’t plan too far ahead, but I’m real busy for a while now. I’ve got a date in Vegas, and maybe another film after that. Then I’m going to try to get to Europe, because I’ve always promised I would and I’ve got some good, faithful fans over there.” Slow-talking Elvis may be. But he certainly isn’t the slow-witted hick from the backwoods his detractors make out. If he is, then he’s a better actor than they give him credit for. Get through to him, and you find a pleasant, honest, not-too-articulate hometown boy who has been protected for his own good from the hysterical periphery of his present world. The party was warming up. Elvis cracked a gag. Charlie cracked a gag. There was a call from the door. Elvis was wanted, and the good breeze was still blowing as he made for the set, one hand on my shoulder. Charlie and Doc were all smiles.

Elvis and his manager, Colonel Parker, on set of 'Change of Habit' (Universal 1969).

“Okay?” said the P.M. “You did real fine.” "Well . . . not quite." I said. "This Colonel Parker, would he be around for a word later?" Elvis stopped in his tracks. The P.M. went a whiter shade of pale, and whispered something to a friend. The friend nodded in sympathy. “I must tell you about an experience I had like that once,” he said, eyeing me as if I’d just crawled out of the woodwork. Elvis said: “I think he’s in Palm Springs. I’m not sure...” He hurried off. The P.M. said: “Don’t let’s push our luck any more. We never trouble him for too long a time. You should be very happy. You had more than anyone’s had in years.” Somewhere along the line, unaccountably, the good breeze had dropped. This story is from the July 12th, 1969 issue of Rolling Stone.

Source: www.rollingstone.com

[hollywoodroses]

Do You Want a Record Deal?

You have just been promoted at elecktra records but you haven’t signed a band or artist yet. what you discover one summer night is something that will change everyone’s life forever

a re-writing of the dirt netflix film where motley crue was actually discovered by a woman

warnings: course language, fingering, oral - female receiving, slight fem!slash

It was a nice warm summer evening in los angeles and you were checking out the night-life after grabbing a hot dog from a street vendor.

After a few minutes you came across a night club with a large line outside. You stopped to look at the sign and it read: ‘motley crue, tonite’ you even saw the time of the show so you decided to walk to the front of the line to see if you could get in without a ticket.

“Hi, Cheryl Goldberg I just got promoted a elecktra records.” You explained to the buff security guard while struggling to show your business card.

“Back of the line.” the security guard responded while ignoring you.

“No, you don’t understand I am a record executive. I mean, I haven’t signed any bands yet….”

“Back of the line, bitch!”

You were shocked as the security guard slapped your hand and your hot dog fell to the ground. You shrugged your shoulders and walked to the back of the line.

——

It had been an hour since you waited but that didn’t bother you because the night was still young. Finally after a few moments the line started to move and soon enough you were at the front showing your I.D.

Once you entered you saw a big crowd near the front of the stage but you wanted to stay in the back just to observe everything. In five minutes the lights went low and you heard over the intercom:

‘Ladies & Gentlemen, from Los Angeles Mötley Crüe!’

As you heard the introduction, you saw four men walk onto the stage and start the show. You heard the beginning of a drum beat and as the song started playing you were not surprised that the crowd went wild, especially the women in the room.

While enjoying the concert, you wanted to talk to the audience members around you. You started a casual conversation with a guy standing beside you.

“so how long has this band been together?” you asked the twenty-something year old.

“Where have you been, girlfriend? Motley Crue is the talk of the town. Sooner or later this band is going to get a record deal.”

A thought suddenly came to your mind, you can be the one to give this band their record deal.

You couldn’t wait for the show to be over to share your idea with the boys.

——

You knew the bands who performed would go to the rainbow bar and grill after the show for drinks and an early breakfast.

While sitting at a booth a far distance from the band, you were drinking a cold coffee and thinking of what to say to them.

Once you had the courage to make a move, you left your seat and walked to where the boys were sitting.

“Hey, great show out there you really rocked.” you told the group

“Who are you?” the bassist asked with a confused look on his face.

You introduced yourself as you sat beside him, “Cheryl Goldberg, elecktra records I think if we work together we can create something really great...”

As you got comfortable in your seat, you suddenly felt a hand undo the zipper of your jeans. You thought you were imagining it as it was 3am and you had been awake for many hours, working. Once the mysterious hand got your jeans and underwear down you felt a finger rub your clit. You kind of giggled and tried to limit a moan. You noticed the band members smiling at you but also ignored it as you felt like you might be high. When you felt something wet replace the fingers, you jumped out of your seat.

“Hey, hey!” you yelled in shock.

An unnamed woman poked her head from under the table, “what, not your style? I swing both ways.” she told you, you couldn’t believe she was being serious.

Yes, you did kiss a girl at a party once but this was over the top for you.

“No, thank you” you replied.

“Well, if you are interested here is my number”. She gave you a piece of paper and you put it in your pocket not thinking too much of it.

the lead singer laughed when you blushed, “don’t worry, girl we don’t judge.”

When everyone at the table laughed you noticed one member of the group with a serious expression, he looked older than the others like he was too old for the cheeky fun and games. You brushed it off, took back your seat and got down to business.

“As I was saying, I am from elecktra records. So do you want a record deal?”

The boys were speechless and you were worried that you made the mistake of approaching them.

“What do you think?” You heard one of them say.

You smiled and knew you won them over.

“Elecktra records signed us with a five album deal and the party was just beginning.” voice over

end

[brian-in-finance]

This quote from FvF Director James Mangold can be added to the one you posted:

“Whatever had been said to me before I met Caitríona — ‘She’s in this hot TV show, huge following, former model’ — this is often the kind of thing that turns me off. But what I was confronted with was a simply remarkable actress—present, fearless, emotionally vulnerable, and smart.” - James Mangold, Director FvF

Thanks for the message, Anon. 😃 Your Mangold quote is from Vanity Fair and follows Brian’s recent post with video of Jamie Dornan’s and Orlando Bloom’s, and a tweet screenshot of Mangold’s, talking about working with Caitríona.

James Mangold and Caitríona Balfe attend the Le Mans ‘66 /Ford v Ferrari premiere at the 2019 Toronto International Film Festival at Roy Thomson Hall on 9 September 2019 in Toronto, Ontario, Canada.

Thanks for your message, Anon. 😃

What do I think “based on reviews in everything she's done in and outside Outlander?” 😂 How To Attract Unwanted Attention Without Really Trying…

I think Caitríona will be just fine, regardless of her age (45 in October) and Outlander’s ending (filming in the next few weeks, Season 8 promotion sometime before 2030…).

It’s nice to step into the unknown and see what the possibilities might be. — Caitriona Balfe, 6 September 2024

Video 📹 from Twitter

I’d argue if every other role is typecasting, every other role is something different. ��

Let’s look at her work released since Outlander premiered in August 2014, supportive wife/mother wise:

2015 The Price of Desire ❌

2016 Money Monster ❌

2019 Le Mans ‘66/Ford v Ferrari ✔️

2019 The Dark Crystal: The Age of Resistance ❌

2019 The Christmas Letter ❌/✔️

2020 Angela’s Christmas Wish ✔️

2021 Belfast ✔️

2024 The Cut ✔️/❌

2025 The Amateur TBA*

*Will she play the murdered wife? An American CIA agent or diplomat? A foreign agent or assassin? The Amateur’s version of Mrs Kravitz? 🤷🏻‍♂️ What we do know is she had her own dialect coach who is “passionate about coaching accents,” and, according to someone who attended the film’s screening in Pasadena last month, “(Caitríona’s) talent and range is bigger than anything we’ve seen.”

Does she have something bigger than small parts lined up?

As you mentioned, she typically doesn’t talk about, much less name, a project until it’s announced officially. 🍿🍿🍿

I think she’ll be offered roles, big and small, and do only what appeals to her and suits her family’s** lifestyle. She still owns the rights to Here Is The Beehive and now has some experience directing. She’ll never be bored, between time spent enjoying her family** and her interest in travel, art, music, film, fashion, literature, sports, and people.

**her actual family

You didn’t ask, but I’ll offer my humble opinion, just the same. I don’t think they’ll move abroad, regardless of her having lived for several years in New York and Los Angeles. Her and Tony’s parents, siblings, nieces, and nephews all live in Ireland and the UK. As she and Tony have done for years, I see their staying abroad for long periods during filming, but not setting up a permanent residence. I think they’ll continue to make their home and raise their son in Ireland/UK… JMHO.

Photos: FarFarAwaySite (cropped by BIF), Wimbledon, 8 July 2019, London England

Remember… as long as I keep getting cast, I don't care if it's typecast. — Chris Pratt

[kjupchurch-xx]

Conflicting Feelings Part 7

June 16th, 2024

It was the last day of filming Deadpool & Wolverine. Ryan and Hugh talked me into stealing my Deadpool suit from the set. Ryan is notorious for stealing his each movie. Hugh decided to be a decent human being and not participate in our antics. Filming was an exciting experience. I didn't participate in much of the press as I wasn't a main character, but my little extra part was fun to film. 

To celebrate the end of filming, Ryan and Blake suggested we go out to a wrap party that was hosted by Shawn Levy in Los Angeles. There would be a dance floor, fancy catering, and open bar and music. Hugh and I had now been dating for nine months. Things were going phenomenal and I'm finally seeing him without the mutton chops or old man beard. I loved fresh faced Hugh. With that being said, the press had a frenzy when it was confirmed that Hugh Jackman had a new love interest, especially one that's much younger than he is. 

I glanced at myself in the mirror, deciding to go casual for the party, like everyone else. I double checked my jeans and had on my favorite band t-shirt. I straightened my hair, applying black makeup to my eyes giving a smoky look. Hugh also went casual, with jeans and a polo. He came up behind me, kissing my cheek, "Almost ready, love?" He asked sweetly. 

I nodded, smiling at him through the mirror, "Whenever you are. I figured wearing the suit probably wasn't a good idea." I said chuckling. 

He giggled, "Probably not. I wish they would've let you be Wolverine's variant or even his girlfriend rather than seeing you as Deadpool, but you do look sexy in the suit." 

I giggled, spinning around to kiss him as I stood on my tip toes to reach his lips. "Let's go." 

We walked hand in hand out of Ryan and Blake's guest house, getting in the car where Ryan and Blake had been waiting on us. Ryan looked, sighing, "Finally. Can you two please stop fucking for like an hour so we can actually show up on time for once?" He jokingly said with a a straight face. 

I smirked, "Would it kill you to shut the fuck up sometimes?" 

He shook his head, pursing his lips in, "Actually no. I'm literally dead inside, so there's nothing left." 

Hugh laughed, "I don't see how Blake puts up with you, mate." 

Blake smiled, "It's in the contract. I've only got about 3 more years before I can marry Ryan Gosling." 

The car erupted in laughter as we drove to the event. The car ride was about 20 minutes long, thanks to the traffic. It was full of small talk, sarcastic comments and horrible singing. As we arrived to the party, we could hear the base from inside. Hugh grabbed my arm, leading me into the building. As we walked in, we were all greeted by the cast of the movie, along with a few other big name Hollywood celebs. 

We casually made small talk and rubbed shoulders with Dwayne Johnson, Zendaya, Zac Efron and a few others while snapping selfies for our Instagram accounts. Hugh and I weren't shy with PDA, but kept it classy. That is...until the drinks started. 

We were snuggled up to one another on the couch when Taylor Swift's Karma began blaring through the speakers. I jumped up grabbing Hugh's hand, "Come on baby,  I love this song!" I yelled over the music. 

He laughed at me, "Steady, you're drunk, beautiful." He said, getting up to join me on the dance floor as I sloppily yelled the words to the song, dancing with him as he danced along giggling at me. 

He pulled me into his arms, placing a kiss on my lips, "How much have you had to drink, love?" He asked, smirking down at me. 

I shrugged, "I dunno, baby. When you were with Dwayne, Zac and I took a few shots." I giggled, covering my mouth as if I'd just let the biggest secret in the world slip. 

He chuckled, "I can tell."

I smirked as my favorite part of the song came on, pointing at him while singing it horribly, "Karma is the guy on the screeeeen, coming straight home to meeeeee!" before pulling him into a sloppy kiss, which made him laugh against my lips, attempting to kiss me back. 

He picked me up bridal style, "Let's go sit down, silly." 

I giggled, screaming as he surprised me with lifting me up, "Are we getting more drinks, Hughy?" 

He shook his head, unable to stop laughing, "Absolutely not, love." 

"Aw, you're no fun." I fake pouted.

"You're really showing your age, big guy." Ryan came up behind us, saying sarcastically. 

"Mate, she's bloody tanked." Hugh responded, sitting me down on the chair. 

Ryan smirked, "Me too, girlfriend." he said, winking at me. 

Hugh shook his head at our antics, per usual. He'd have fun, but not too much fun. He was always the more responsible one in our friend group. 

I went to stand up again as another song started all to be met with the room beginning to spin. "Hugh, Ryan, I'm gonna, I think I'm gonna-" I stammered before projectile vomiting on the floor. 

"Party foul!" I heard Ryan and Zac drunkenly yell. 

I quickly wiped my mouth and darted towards the bathroom with Hugh fast behind me on my heels, pushing the door open for me as I ran to the nearest toilet and began puking again. 

"I am never drinking like this ever again." I said with a strained voice as he held my hair. 

Hugh chuckled, "It's alright, love. You did drink a lot. I know you had two whiskeys, then whatever shots you and Zac had."

I put my finger up towards him, "Goddamnit, I can fucking taste the Jagermeister again. Stop talking about the shots." I said, placing my head back down towards the toilet bowl trying to contain myself.

He held my hair and rubbed my back soothingly, "Do you need a water or anything?'

"I love you." I stammered, completely ignoring his question. 

He smiled, "I love you too, baby girl. Do you need anything?" He asked lovingly. 

"If she called you, would you go back to her?" I asked. 

He looked at me, furrowing his brows, "Who?" He asked. 

I narrowed my eyes, "Deb. The woman you were married to for 27 years." 

He looked at me for a moment, "Baby, Deb is gone. Her and I had a great go, but it didn't end well." 

I rolled my eyes, drunkenly starting to tear up, "But if she called, would you!?" I said, raising my voice. 

His voice was stern, "No, I wouldn't." Noticing the tears in my eyes, his voice softened, "I'm yours, sweetheart. I'm all yours. You have nothing to worry about, I promise." 

I sat back leaning my head against his chest as he ran his fingers through my now messy hair, "I'm holding your hair as you vomit into a toilet. I'm not going anywhere. I am so in love with you, beautiful. Deb's moved on, I wish her the best, but I've also moved on."

I looked up as if I were a small child asking an adult for the truth, "You swear?" I looked at him with sad eyes.

He nodded, kissing my forehead, "I swear. Let's go back to Ryan's and clean up." He said, standing, helping me to get my bearings back.   

As we walked through the area everyone was hanging out, I noticed the vomit had been cleaned up. Ryan and Zac ran up to me checking on me, as Hugh told them we were heading back so I could sober up, clean up and lay down. We said our goodbyes as Blake and Ryan joined us to head out. I rested my head on Hugh's lap in the backseat as we made the 15 minute commute back to Ryan and Blake's house. 

Once we made it back to their house, Hugh helped me into the house and up the stairs. He helped me shower, washing my hair and helping me with washing my body. He watched me as I brushed my teeth. "You good, love?" He asked, leaning against the doorway. 

I nodded, "I'm good. I've sobered up a bit now." I chuckled, setting the toothbrush back on the sink before gargling with mouthwash. 

Removing my towel, I changed into one of Hugh's t-shirts and some sweats. I saw him lay in bed, in his boxers as I made my way over, scooting into bed beside him. He opened his arms to me as I slid over, resting my head on his chest, placing my hand on his abdomen. 

"I never thought I'd be so happy to be back in Ryan Reynold's bed." I said sarcastically. 

He chuckled, "You feeling better?" 

I nodded, closing my eyes, "Much." I yawned, inhaling the scent of his body wash. 

He kissed my head, "Good. Get some sleep, baby." He smiled, reaching over to turn the bedside lamp off. 

Days had gone by since we had our wrap party. That next morning, I'd woken up hungover as hell, still sick. I didn't think anything of it since I had drank so much, but as the days went on and the sickness continued, I started to grow anxious and extremely paranoid. We were now back in New York City, back home. I sub-rented my condo considering we spent months in LA and there was no point in continuing to pay rent somewhere I wasn't staying. Considering I had a tenant, Hugh told me to move into his house. 

Hugh was out on his morning bike ride as I stood in the bathroom staring at my phone. I was completely at a loss. I decided to pick up the phone and call Ryan. He and Blake were back home in New York, letting their rental in LA go as we'd wrapped filming. 

"What's up, baby child?" His voice yelled through the phone. 

Baby Child was something Ryan annoyingly called me considering I was the youngest of the group. I was 26, Blake was 36, Ryan was 47 and Hugh was 55, so I was 'Baby Child'. Cue the eye roll. 

I chuckled, "Are you with Hugh?" I asked. 

"Nope. He's not here." He simply said. "Why, what's up?" He asked, curiously. 

I sighed, "I've got something to tell you." 

His voice got serious, which was unlike him, "Is everything okay?" He asked, growing concerned. 

I took a deep breath, "I'm pregnant." 

He gasped, "What? You mean to tell me that old fucker's swimmers still swim?!" He exclaimed. 

I laughed, "That's seriously your reaction?" 

He chuckled, "Why do you not sound happy about this?" He asked. 

I shrugged, as I walked into the living room window that overlooked the city, "Because I'm not." I said with a sigh. 

[seat-safety-switch]

I'm Ted Fillshorts, star of the new Amazon Prime detective show Fillshorts Confidential. Every week-like release period, we go up against the worst criminals in Los Angeles and torture them to the boundaries of tolerance of society. But they're just television characters, created by fancy Harvard-educated writers in a padded room somewhere. I'm here to talk to you today about real criminals: schoolchildren who don't get their phonics homework turned in on time.

That's right. Concerned parents and otherwise-uninvolved rich weirdos who spend way too much time thinking about elementary school students wanted to make sure that they were following their prescribed moral tenets. Those tenets were, in turn, handed down to them in their own time by what actual research now indicates to have been breakfast-cereal companies wearing the face of a human administrator as a mask, but a superior's a superior. We've been paid to enforce this societal norm by going undercover as lunch ladies ("culinary professionals," if you're union.)

Sure, this might seem like an unconventional way to "give back" to society for all of the great things it's done for us. And you might be inclined to believe that we owe some kind of vaguely-defined favour to those aforementioned rich weirdos. Maybe you're conspiracy-minded and think that this entire enterprise is an attempt to undermine the public school system so that bourgeois interests can capture it for vulgar profiteering. Think of the children

That is, the children who don't do their phonics homework, and that we then ritually punish by denying them their beloved pizza lunch and filming the entire thing for Amazon Prime's new-new program, Kid Grifters. Sure, the name could do with a little bit of workshopping, but to be perfectly honest with you the average career of a television star in this economy is approximately seven episodes. We can't afford to slow down this machine for anything, lest it become marginally less effective for the Moneyed-Americans controlling the whole thing from the shadows.

[chantsdemarins]

😅Real Villain Training [Tom Hiddleston circa 2012 X Fem.Reader]

Chapter three of Breath of the Æsir is almost here. I’m SO sorry for the wait! In the meantime, I hope you enjoy a very brief Tom story...

Honestly, I pledged to myself, no more Tom stories just focus on Loki. But I think I just can't help it. Especially when slutty inspiration like this photo comes my way (@lokischambermaid and @lokisgoodgirl 😳)

I am humbled by this era of Tom. In 2024 he is a husband/father/seasoned iconic actor in perpetual good cheer, but in 2012, he was a bad boy. As always please reblog and comment if you feel inspired!

Summary: Tom is hanging out with some real jerks for a new role, and he runs into you, literally. Your depression has caused your life to turn a little black and white, could this handsome stranger possibly add some color back? (at least to your cheeks🥵).

Smut factor: I hope...HOT 🔥

(Authors note: I have no concrete proof he was in fact a bad boy so please don't take seriously my young Tom plot themes of drugs and sex, which once again appear here. I could be totally wrong about him. It's art! It's a fabrication! Also, this story does involve mental health!)

I also don't know who would want to be on a tag list for a Tom fic these days! These are a few people who might be interested?? @lokischambermaid @mochie85 @mischief2sarawr @lokisgoodgirl @wheredafandomat @sailorholly @mrs-illyrian-baby @superficialdomina @gigglingtiggerv2 @fictive-sl0th @muddyorbs @tbhiddlestan83 @huntress-artemiss @smolvenger @kikster606 @mjsthrillernp @hiroyukinasukawa

Los Angeles, 2012

That afternoon, the rooftop pool at the Saint Avalon was a pink swirl of bathing beauties in early spring. Tom tried to focus on his deadpan conversation with his agent, but polka dots and silly cocktails danced around him. He pushed his Ray-Bans back into place, his sweat—or perhaps nervousness—causing them to slowly slide off his nose.

"Serious British actor succumbs to being typecast as a Norse sociopath. That's where this is headed, Tom, if we don’t do something, get you something else.” “Do you really want to be known only for Marvel?” he repeated his plea. The words just weren’t sinking in.

Tom laughed and inadvertently tried to change the subject. "Have you been to the La Brea Tar Pits yet, John? It’s wild—10,000 years' worth of dire wolf bones.”

His stare remained galvanized by the poolside girls. They just didn't look like that in London. Number one, the sunshine. Number two, the tans. Number three, well, his girlfriend—or ex-girlfriend, rather—made it hard to look too long at anyone else. So had he ever found himself at a rooftop pool party, he wouldn't have had the chance he was having now.

“Tom, are you paying attention? This is important. You're only here for a week, and we need to move on this role. I need to know if you're a yes.” The truth was, Tom was suddenly filthy rich with his own money for the first time in his life. He really loved being a Norse sociopath and already had big ideas for Loki’s eventual character arc into becoming an anti-hero someday. He had filled three journals on his bedside stand with his ideas for Loki.

His agent tried again, “Just hang out with Giorgio. It’s less than a month. Then the movie should be a very easy shoot. You get to embed yourself with some real hedge fund cats.” Tom’s attention snapped back. “Wait, I like that.” “Right? It’s like if Loki worked on Wall Street.” “Well…” Tom hesitated. He didn’t think Loki would actually ever bore himself that way. Those guys were boring to Tom and to Loki.

His poor agent was right, though. He did need another role. Things had gone so well; filming for the next Avengers movie was starting this summer. If he could find another gig, a time filler, a totally different genre, it really would be the best for his career. “Then a play next,” the agent mused, taking a sip of his own cocktail. “Shakespeare, or something 70s.” “70s? As in the 1570s? Or the 1970s?” “Tom.” “How should I know?” Tom laughed to himself, eyes still canvassing the poolside display around him. His agent leaned across his lawn chair and placed his hand on Tom’s shoulder. “So, you’ll do it?”

Two Weeks Later

Deep down, he knew he didn’t have the dissociation required for the job. He was too corporeal, too embodied. Years of being a long-distance runner and a trained athlete had fastened his mind, heart, and soul firmly into his muscles. He clearly wouldn’t be able to hide his feelings in his highly emotive, sensitive body. That was the first thing he noticed about the guys he was forced to hang out with for this role. They were covered up with their suits and sexist jokes. It was like they had Hadrian’s Wall around them. Which was, in fact, what exactly led to his sudden departure from the bar at Rue 23.

He had been embedded with short and loud Glen, buzz-cut Ellis, and the tall and lanky, just like him, Brad Nelson. There were a few others, but they were too milquetoast to be memorable. Role be damned. He left so fast the thick glass door almost hit a nice young couple as he bolted into the cold Los Angeles spring night.

He wasn’t dressed right; in his haste to leave London, he didn’t remember that California got into the 40s after the sun went down. He didn’t even pack a suit coat. Thank God he remembered to grab his leather pack from under the bar. It contained exactly five cigarettes, a finicky Zippo, his aftershave, a white t-shirt, and a travel toothbrush. There might also be a rolled-up Popular Mechanics magazine from the Burbank airport, something he never would be caught dead reading at Heathrow.

He also hadn’t done so much coke since he was in college. Why was LA always so incredibly cliché? He couldn’t blame Luke. He couldn’t blame anyone but himself for this role. He said yes when he was distracted. He was in over his head. They had hired these real blokes to make sure Tom looked authentic when they started filming next month, and given his intense drive for perfection, he had agreed that it was “brilliant” of the casting director to force the eight of them to spend these weeks in Los Angeles and one week in Manhattan, in a true immersive centrifuge of shallow materiality.

The night spun around him, a neon ball of yarn, teasing open his pupils until his eyes were black and not at all blue. As he walked, he ran his large hands down the surface of his body, the material of his shirt feeling like a fancy pillowcase from a boutique hotel.

One finger lingered over his jawline, tracing it as he brought his hands back up to his face. Engrossed in the comfort of his form a moment too long, he was distracted once again. This part of LA seemed to always be full of clusters of locals and tourists, laughing and talking. He was unfortunately moving against the flow of the crowd, a wayward salmon when he almost ran straight into you.

“Watch where you're going!” you yelled, dropping your purse onto the dirty LA sidewalk. It opened enough for your things to tumble out. Tom immediately stopped and bent down to help you, but you batted his hands away. “What the hell? I can pick up my own damn Chapstick,” you scolded. “Ma’am, I am so sorry, I am obviously not from here, and I am a little overwhelmed,” he rattled off. “Why is that obvious?” “My accent, of course.” “I didn’t honestly notice,” you spoke as you inspected the tall man’s face with squinting eyes.

You, of course, did immediately notice the timbre of his voice, his height, and the buttons on his tight shirt which looked like they were in the process of unbuttoning themselves. “Would you believe I’ve been doing coke all night with a bunch of Wall Street assholes at the Rue 23, and I had to get the fuck out of there,” he continued, not sure if you were listening, but you were definitely looking at him, so he continued.

“So now I am wandering the streets of Beverly Hills, and I haven’t the foggiest how the rest of my night will go.” You shuffled your feet for a moment before speaking. You had been heading home after a long day at work. You felt genuinely unprepared for navigating a handsome foreigner in the right direction. Yet there was a certain appeal to a man suddenly without his ship or his crew, so to speak. So you didn’t immediately walk away.

He had been shuffled from the airport to the bar in a hired car, he tried to explain, and his sense of direction bordered on problematic. Further, his flip phone was really only good for texting, and that even took way too long most days. He really did seem high, overwhelmed, and a little lost. He also seemed the type unable to handle any silence in a conversation.

“Do you live far?” he said after suffering through 30 seconds of no discourse. “It’s LA, everything is far.” “Fair enough,” Tom muttered sheepishly, fiddling with the buttons on his shirt, which were still somehow unbuttoning themselves. He thought he had bought the right size shirt. Maybe not.

You realized that if you were to ask this too-high, too-hot British man back to your apartment, you would inevitably cave and end up sleeping with him just because he caught you in this particular moment of your life. It was an in-between time. You weren't quite your old self and your new self that you'd been working so hard on, hadn't emerged yet.

“Want to grab something to eat?” You finally offered a neutral segue. That seemed to be just what the man needed to hear. His demeanor calmed. “Oh sure, yes, I could go for a big American cheeseburger, honestly.” “Okay then, let’s go to Patty’s on Vine, we can walk,” you said as you pulled at his shirt to turn him toward the right direction. He bristled at the feeling of your touch.

His whole body was even more sensitive than usual. You looked like the queen of the ancient British Iceni to him. In truth, he didn’t much care for the California look. He loved that you appeared out of nowhere and you looked like Boudica, not like Gwyneth Paltrow. Even though he was sure he heard she was nice. RDJ seemed to really love her.

The diner where you were headed was the second-tier after-hours hang, so it wasn’t populated with the usual crowd, not yet at least. You had some time before you would be inundated, and perhaps before someone would recognize him, which you still did not. You could ask him, of course. Although, sometimes in Los Angeles, the worst part is knowing who someone is.

Although Tom being Tom was unable to resist personal questions. “Tell me a little bit about yourself, just a little,” he had to ask as the night air propelled him quickly down the sidewalk. You considered telling him about your job, but it was just how you paid the bills. Your passions were your passions and not for a stranger. So you decided to be a little goth. It couldn't hurt.

“I have something like anhedonia, I suppose,” you finally said. Tom seemed to know what you meant right away. “The inability to feel?” He spoke. “More classically refined, which results in numbness, making capturing interior somatic sensations nearly impossible,” you clarified. “Sounds like you are depressed,” Tom flattened out your creative retelling of your current state. “Maybe,” although you weren't sure of his simple label. "You think it will pass?" Tom continued, ever the optimist.

You considered one way to try and test if this state you'd been in could possibly change, would be to see if he could provoke feelings of passion or at least some kind of low-grade horniness. You’d been feeling functionally blank for a while now.

He was stunning, after all.

He seemed game for anything, his amphetamine grin taking up the majority of his handsome face. He looked so lovely under the hanging light in your dingy booth. You ate the two-egg special you ordered and watched him devour his American cheeseburger with genuine joy.

“So, you're here to practice for a new part?” You sincerely tried to keep the conversation flowing despite the growing desire to test your theory. “Yes, they want me to branch out. In my career, there’s the fear I am already 'type-casted,' I guess you could say.” “Type-casted? So early on?”

He looked young to you. Possibly younger than you actually. “Yes, I had a big role as a villain, it really blew up, but, he's like a mythological comic book one. I am misunderstood mostly. I mean my character, not me.” "Sure." You nodded in understanding and agreed even if you didn’t quite pick up what he was putting down. You wondered if he had ever seen 'The Last Starfighter.' A favorite movie of yours, you rarely shared with anyone else. Or had he been in that? Your mind wandered. You really didn't recognize him, but you also didn't want to offend him by this fact.

“So how would this role be redefining your abilities? If you are playing a heartless hedge fund dude, isn’t that also a kind of villain? Maybe that is why you got this part.” Tom pondered your insight. He again fell into overthinking and was only a text away from bailing on the entire endeavor. He was becoming that kind of guy, emotionally uneven under his elite veneer.

“I guess they feel like I don’t have the chops to be a 'real world' baddie.” “I needed more practice.” “You don’t?” you said very timidly, suddenly you weren’t hungry anymore. You gently pushed your plate aside so you could focus.

You realized his bromance compadres would find him eventually. Another LA truth: it was hard to get truly lost for long. You had been studying his face during the conversation. His pale complexion was slowly becoming flushed in small increments. Was it shyness or a hidden boldness he was bursting to demonstrate, you couldn't tell.

You had worn your espadrilles today, maybe it wasn’t the right season yet, but they always went so well with your outfit-a flowery dress from H&M. Gently and playfully, you kicked one of them off your foot, making a soft thud. Tom dipped his eyes beneath the table for only a moment and brought them back to you, a new flash of crimson emerging. Why were you taking off your shoes? Maybe your feet hurt from the walk?

He picked up his water and chugged almost all of it.

Your right leg lifted up and found purchase exactly between his, landing on the soft seat. Tom chuckled nervously and grabbed your foot. “Just what are you doing?” “I thought you were in training to be a real villain. Or did I misunderstand that?” You teased. Tom’s sincerity and earnestness were effulgent. “Oh no, I am, I really want the part, I need this role.” Suddenly when the idea of something illicit going on beneath the table loomed, he was not reticent about this new role. “Then you better continue to practice.” You laughed, your own smile forming across your face. “How long do we have until they find you?” You inched your foot closer to his crotch.

Tom took a deep breath in and pulled out his flip phone eyes squinting, trying to see the rectangle text banner across the tiny screen. He held the phone up to you. “Can you read this at all?” You grabbed it from him, feeling his hand shaking a little. It was charming. He was nervous.

You read the tiny screen aloud, “Not really, something about where are you at…you wanker, we are about to call your agent." It did say exactly that, and you wondered if possibly Tom was throwing away this role. Were you watching him collapse his career before your eyes? “Are you one for self-sabotage Tom?” The question seemed to catch him off guard. Maybe no one had asked him so bluntly. “Maybe,” he said after a long minute of typing something on the seemingly minute phone with his long fingers and even larger hands. “Just like I am possibly depressed," you offered. He looked up and sat his phone down. “Yes, I think so. Just like that.”

Incoming

Just then the waitress came by filled your water glasses and gave you another quick refill of coffee. Your chosen sobriety was a strange foil to Tom’s imbibed stimulant cocktail which showed no sign of waning. “So, are we on?” He finally said after biting his bottom lip, for what seemed like a year, until it was slightly puffy.

“For what? A staring contest?” You offered, laughing nervously too, your foot still stationed between his thighs. You wondered what you could accomplish at this hour with the looming threat of an incursion at any moment.

The glimmer in his dilated orbs registered that Tom was now aligned in a mission of testing the perpetuity of your anhedonic state. Suddenly under the table, you felt his long legs spread yours apart, like opening a long-closed window that had been painted over.

You gasped but didn’t say anything. He laughed and widened his legs further. You moved your eyes to watch him under the table, his hand reaching down to adjust his cock, which was obviously becoming hard.

At that moment you wanted to jump over to his side of the booth, you wanted to concede and take him to your far away apartment in embarrassing Marina Del Rey.

Tom went silent and finally let go of your bare foot, he had been holding it so hard with his other hand, that you were sure it would be bruised. You immediately placed it on his now impossibly hard cock, tenting his pants obscenely. Honestly, you’d never given a “foot job” before and only seen something like this in a French film once. You had no idea what you were doing.

You slowly began to move your foot up and down his length, which was quite impressive and required more force than you had anticipated. You curled your toes around him to try and create more friction, dragging your heel just at the base.

You placed your hands on the edge of the diner seat so you could put some real weight into getting him off. That seemed to work, and Tom let out a guttural moan. He quickly grabbed your water glass and drank it in addition to his own.

“Should I stop?” You let yourself wonder out loud. “Are you crazy? No.” Was Tom’s quick reply. “Does this feel good?” “Fuck yes.” His voice was breathy, and he shifted in his seat, daring to look around at the customers, but none showed any sign of noticing anything other than themselves. “But this isn’t fair,” he spoke again softly, panting. “How so?” “Because I am um, I am receiving.” “Aren’t you supposed to be a selfish cold surface-level junior business asshole?” “Yes.” “Then this is what they do, they get foot jobs in diners, amongst other perks of course,” you laughed. “Shit, you’re right,” Tom barely squeaked out.

Just then the diner door opened, and you could see the dim faces of the guys he had been partying with. They finally found him. “Don’t look now but your Republican friends have arrived.” Tom’s flush became pale. “Should I stop?” You checked in again. “No.” His response was as clear as mid-day.

So, you increased your speed, you took a deep breath. You were so turned on at this point. You were positive there would be a wet spot on the cracked vinyl seat. You lifted your skirt up further. Tom noticed and peered beneath the table again. He saw your hand brush past your underwear and a finger curl inside the lace trim. You matched his erratic breathing to your motions as you fucked yourself intently. His eyes were glued to you, his fists almost punching into the flimsy placemats. You laughed to yourself about the chances of you both coming in public, surely, he wouldn’t, or you couldn’t.

You were about to mention that perhaps you should stop. When suddenly Tom let out a muffled cry. His breath hitched. You could feel moisture beneath the bottom of your toes as you brought your foot back to the tip of his generous cock once more. “Ah, I see,” you laughed. "Well looks like we are done here." There was no more time to discuss what just happened. The bros had spotted him and you and made their way to your back corner.

Tom closed his eyes in what looked like a silent prayer. He had just had one of the best orgasms of his life. The short blond one with cropped hair spoke up, “Hiddleston, where the fuck have you been, your agency was about to call the cops, which would have been lame.”

“Hiddleston,” you said his surname out loud. Realizing you never got his last name. Tom looked at you with both lust and remorse. Then turned back to the assholes. “You found me, good work,” he said assuredly. “Well we gotta go dick we have a strip club that closes at 3am and it’s in the contract that we take you there.”

Tom slowly got up and used one of his long fingers to expertly untuck that white button-down shirt to conceal the mess you had both made. He looked your way, the pale blue of his eyes returning.

You exchanged numbers for the pleasantry of it, as the assholes looked on impatiently, probably wondering why Tom was wasting his time on a girl who looked like Boudica, but that's just what assholes do you remembered. Although you really didn’t expect to hear from him again. To your surprise right before dawn, perhaps as he was leaving said strip club, a text came over your Blackberry.

“I hope you felt something, I know I did.” Shit.

You did feel something, a lot of things actually. Tom had brought something back to the solemnly plain bagel of your life. You quickly wrote back.

"Don't let the bros see you texting me Tom, you laughed knowing he was probably squinting and barely able to see your words. You picture all of them looking over his shoulder.

"They went home. Can I come over? I feel like we aren't done quite yet. My asshole-in-training self expires at sunrise and I turn back into the real me. Is that okay?" You blinked a few times just to make sure you saw that correctly. "So you're actually Cinderella," you laughed nervously.

You managed to type your address and push send before pulling your covers over your head and screaming quietly enough to not wake up your still-slumbering roommates. You then looked around your room in quiet delightful horror, you had about 30 minutes to hide all your dirty clothes from the past three months under your bed...