#It's not my usual style and I've never covered film before. I'm not a film reviewer

[crow-caller]

Text version here.

New video! Netflix copyright claims has finally released me from its purgatorial grasp, and I'm allowed to tell you about the Uglies film adaptation and how it functions compared to the book.

The short of it: The film is honestly very faithful to its source material. This is not a good thing, because Uglies is flawed (I like Uglies. It is.) However, every step made to change or 'improve' on its source actively makes it worse, especially regarding the overall themes.

[x-press-it]

Devilish Desires - 4/8

Dangerous Temptations, Irresistible Touch 🎞️❤️‍🔥🌹⚔️🖤💻🖱️

Sub!Logan Howlett x Dom!OC (They/Them)

Summary: Logan, typically guarded and dominant, finds himself captivated by E, a mysterious being with a devilish allure and ancient presence that challenges his control.

Context: This story unfolds 'within' the "Days of Future Past" new timeline, during Logan's early years as a history teacher at Xavier’s School. It’s set well before his consciousness from the original timeline reconnects with him in 2023, as seen at the film’s end.

Content Warnings (for the whole story): Smut 18+ (Dry humping, Edging, Unprotected p in v.) - Dom!Logan into Sub!Logan - Pet Names (Good boy, pretty boy, pet, pup, amongst others…) reversed age gap (Logan is younger) - OC Notes: Established name, backstory, powers, fighting style, female body but gender fluid character (Logan misgender them at first because he doesn’t know, even in the descriptions) - Mention of other character from the MCU and subtle references to the comics for flavor (not mandatory to understand what is happening) - Flash back and mention of past trauma - Very quick mentions of drugs - Fluff with Dark Undertones: Emotional tension and possessive affection - Worship Themes: Religious imagery, reverent language and awe - Ancient Mysticism: References to otherworldly or demonic presence - Mental Health: Power dynamics, personal vulnerabilities - Trope: Rivals to lovers..

I'm back after 10 years of iatus and fairly new to how things are done on tumblr now, so sorry if I missed any warnings. Also english isn't my first language so there might be typos/weird sentences...

Notes: Got very inspired by sub!Logan and repeated listening of "Between wind and water" by Hael. Cover made with canva from an idea I got from this post. If you know who made the picture, tell me so I can credit them - Click on the divider to find the creator. Also this was meant to be an imagine turned into a full story. Just so you know, some chapters are very short, other are long. I'm in the process of editing/writing/rewriting parts so I'll post a chapter everytime I have one fully edited. This was another hard chapter to edit/rewrite, but I did it ^^ I hope you guys like fighting/sparring scenes ^^" Ok, let's feed that hunger, shall we? ;)

Need some music? I've got you

Previously: in Devilish Desires

Chapters: 4/8

Word Count: 9.9K / 60K+ for now

In the days that followed their meeting in the library, E kept their distance from Logan. They must have been tangled up with all the contract adjustments and whatever else came with their mysterious agenda, or at least that’s what he assumed. Logan couldn’t say he minded their absence; if anything, the tension between his shoulders had finally started to ease, and his routine felt a little less invaded.

He hardly saw them around the mansion. E would appear in passing, usually on their way to Charles’s office or briefly dipping into the library, but they seemed to vanish as quickly as they appeared. They never crossed paths otherwise. Not in the gym, where he’d half-expected to catch them training, nor in the kitchen, where they always managed to get there before him and leave behind only faint traces—a mug in the sink, an empty coffee pot. Even Ororo, who spent most of her time outside tending to the gardens, mentioned she hadn’t seen them lingering around the grounds. And as the days dragged on, Logan felt the empty space they’d left lingering.

A part of him was curious now, his wariness easing as he'd learned more about them. He’d gotten a glimpse of them beneath that composed exterior, enough to see that they weren’t the threat he’d originally thought, maybe even enough to say they weren't so different from each other—if he squinted. Their goals didn’t seem so far from his, and neither did their need for freedom. He found himself wondering, almost against his will, what they were doing when they weren’t working. It didn’t sit right, not knowing.

And soon enough, he realized he’d started keeping an eye out for them. Them, the person who’d been in his face day in and day out for weeks, was now barely a shadow in the mansion’s daily rhythm. It was… odd, and the feeling only grew with each day they didn’t cross paths.

But then, on the fifth day after their meeting, Logan’s curiosity finally got a break when Charles called the team to his office. He could sense something was coming—the air in the room was thick with it. The team gathered, shifting uneasily, the only absentees being the three younger members. Logan leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his gaze as sharp as ever as he watched each person in the room. His eyes kept circling back to E, who stood slightly off to the side, their expression a wall of carefully constructed calm. They didn’t look at him or anyone else, a clear signal they weren’t here to play nice.

Charles cleared his throat, drawing their attention as he settled behind his desk. “I’ve called you all here to discuss an important matter regarding the security of the school.”

Logan’s gaze narrowed, his instincts already piecing together that this had to do with E. Sure enough, Charles’ steady look swept across the team, his voice carrying a calm authority. “It has been decided that E will be training with you all from now on. They won’t be part of the team, but as they work here at the school and have the right to defend it, it’s important for everyone to understand their abilities. In case of an attack, we all need to be on the same page.”

The discomfort in the room was tangible. Everyone shifted, casting skeptical glances at E, who remained silent, almost impassive. Their appearance looked more severe today—dull skin and eyes, their horns lacking their usual shine, and their hair pulled back in a tight bun. They wore mostly black, save for a few touches of dark red, with no jewelry and only the barest hint of makeup. Jean watched them closely, brows furrowing as she tried to read their thoughts, but E’s sharp glare in her direction made it clear that wall wasn’t coming down.

Scott was the first to voice his hesitation, clearing his throat as he looked between Charles and E. “Is that really necessary? We’ve never had any outsiders train with us before.”

Logan couldn’t help the low chuckle that slipped out. “Forgot about me, Summers? I was an outsider once, too.” The words hung in the air for a heartbeat before he cast a quick glance at E. Just as he expected, their attention—once fixed on their perfectly manicured red nails—flickered to his, briefly meeting his gaze before quickly looking away, the moment slipping by as quickly as it had come.

If they weren’t friends, Scott would’ve probably fried him with his visor for that comment, but Charles remained patient as he waited for the room to settle. “E works alongside us here,” he said, voice steady but unyielding. “They have every right to protect the students, just as we do.” His gaze swept over each person, settling on them a moment longer than necessary. “It’s important we trust one another in times of crisis.”

Logan’s gaze drifted back to E. They stood rigid, a subtle tension in their posture that hadn’t been there before. If he was reading them right, they didn’t want to be here any more than the team wanted them here. It wasn’t just distance, it was a quiet wariness, like they were on guard against everyone, Charles being the only exception. Even Jean’s curiosity only earned another glare from E, a silent warning to stay out of their head.

As the murmurs of agreement wrapped up the meeting, Logan lingered, eyes settling on E. He wasn’t wary of them anymore, not exactly, but something about them made him curious. He’d seen a glimpse of who they were under that mask. He wasn’t sure he trusted them yet, but he respected them—at least enough to want to see more of what they were capable of. And there was that other thing, too; he’d noticed it in the faint shadows under their eyes and the worn edges of their aura. Whatever was keeping them going seemed to be running thin.

“Hey,” he called out before they could leave. They turned slowly, an eyebrow raised, the only indication they’d heard him.

“When d’you have time to spar?” he asked, trying to read their reaction.

Their face barely shifted, but he could see a glint of amusement behind their guarded look. “Right now, actually,” they replied, their voice steady and even. “Unless you’re busy.”

Logan pushed off the wall, straightening his posture. “I’ve got time.”

They nodded, excusing themselves to change and, twenty minutes later, they met him at the bottom of the staircase. They were both now dressed in gear more suitable for what lay ahead, and Logan couldn’t help but notice the way their presence had shifted from the last time they spoke—the carefully polished exterior was there, but the energy behind it was dimmed, like they were holding something back. As they stepped outside, Logan led them to a secluded corner of the grounds, far from prying eyes. The shaded glade lay far from the main paths, ensuring no students or teachers would wander by, a quiet space with plenty of room to move freely.

As they reached the clearing, he rolled his shoulders, flexing his arms and testing his range of motion with a low, almost eager hum in his throat. “Alright,” he said, a smirk tugging at his lips. “Let’s see what you’ve got.”

E’s lips curved into a faint smile, tight at the edges, as they removed their shoes, grounding themselves in the cool grass. Logan studied them, and it seemed like even the glint in their eyes was dimmer than he remembered; they looked tired, worn.

“You sure you’re feelin’ up for this?” he taunted. “Look a little beat.”

At those words, a faint smirk tugged at their lips, a dangerous spark lighting in their eyes—not quite playful, but charged with a hint of anticipation as they settled a few feet from him, their toes curling slightly in the green blades. “Looks can be deceiving,” they stated, their eyes narrowing with a brief, steely flash. “So don’t hold back.”

Logan chuckled, a low growl under his breath . “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

They shifted into their stances, circling each other slowly, and Logan took a moment to assess them, noting their balance and posture, looking for signs of fatigue or hesitation. E looked drained, their skin and eyes lacking the usual intensity, their expression guarded but when they lunged forward, it was with a speed and grace that took him off guard. They were light on their feet, with an economy of motion that spoke of years of training. Even so, they lacked their usual edge. He’d felt their agility before—those brief, charged touches when they went after him over the past couple of weeks. But now, with their first steps, he saw a whole new side to them.

As Logan moved in, he blocked their strike, and the force behind it surprised him. They were damn quick, and strong enough to make him realize he couldn’t take this lightly. He dodged a swift kick, aiming a punch in return, but they twisted smoothly out of his reach, moving with a precision that was… stunning.

A flicker of respect—maybe even awe—stirred in him, and he noticed the shift almost immediately. E’s movements, initially strong, suddenly sharpened, a faint glow sparking in their eyes as they draw strength from his reaction. Each impressed thought, every ounce of admiration, pulse under their skin like fuel, strengthening them further.

Their smile widened, feeling the strength coursing through them now, a flash of teeth as they spun around him, arms a flurry of open-palmed strikes and swift fists. Logan blocked most of them, dodging the rest. They weren’t just good—they were damn good. And as his recognition grew, he felt an odd, almost tangible energy radiating off them, a surge that seemed to seep from the esteem they stirred in him.

“Not bad,” he grunted, his breath steady despite the exertion. The thrill of a real challenge was humming through his veins, the kind that made his blood come alive. But he couldn’t ignore that other feeling creeping in, like something slipping just beyond his control, something wild and powerful in E that his respect seemed to unlock.

They closed in again, and as their bodies met, Logan realized just how agile they were. It wasn’t only that they were fast; it was the precision of each movement, the way they slipped around his strikes like water weaving through rock. He found himself pushed harder, each dodge and block requiring his full attention.

Their style was unlike anything he’d seen before: smooth, swift, each movement flowing into the next like a performer weaving between shadows. There was a seamlessness to their steps, an exotic grace laced with foreign influences he couldn’t quite place—Arabic, maybe, or something even older. As they exchanged blow after blow, it felt like choreography, mesmerizing—E’s motions were fluid and graceful, carrying a rhythm and elegance that Logan could respect, even as he fought to keep up. This wasn’t just skill; it was... Art. And the more he admired it, the stronger they became, each spark of his interest feeding into their movements like an unseen force binding them.

Realization struck him like a blow—yes, they were good, but their power was intensifying, fueled by him.

He’d heard of mutants who could channel the emotions of others, drawing strength from positive thoughts like attention and interest. But feeling it now—feeling their strength mirror his thoughts… it was unlike anything he’d experienced.

They were more than a match for him, and his respect for their skill, their grit, surged. The moment that thought crossed his mind, E’s strikes grew even faster, their focus intensifying, and he was almost sure of it now. His every impressed reaction were seeping into them, fueling their intensity.

Their strikes picked up speed, and Logan found himself on the defensive more than he’d anticipated. They were fucking sharp. For every hit he blocked, two more came at him from new angles, as if they were testing him, pushing him to see just how far they could go. And with each strike, with every dodge, their energy grew, their fatigue seemed to melt away. The fire in their eyes reignited, and their form tightened, honed into something intense and unyielding.

He went in close, using his instincts to counter their movements, but with each passing moment, he witnessed how his respect only made them stronger. It was mesmerizing—and unsettling. The bond felt tangible, like an invisible current between them, and it was taking on a life of its own.

Logan ducked under a high kick, his instincts leading the way, and countered with a low sweep that nearly knocked them off-balance. E rolled out of reach, landing on their feet with a fluid twist that made Logan pause, even for just a fraction of a second. The way they moved was intoxicating—a mix of elegance and deadly purpose that sparked something inside him. He couldn’t help it; for a split moment, he was simply watching them, almost spellbound.

But there was no time to linger. E closed the distance with a burst of energy, a flurry of controlled, powerful strikes, fists and open palms, that had Logan moving on impulse alone. Each hit was controlled, precise, but damn, the force behind them kept him on his toes, like they were trying to push him to his limits. And maybe, deep down, he wanted them to. He blocked, deflected, and when he caught their wrist mid-swing, he allowed a small, knowing smirk to flicker across his face. That’s when he saw it—the glint of mischief in their eyes, quick and bold. E twisted out of his grasp with a move so smooth it felt like he’d tried to catch water.

Logan tightened his grip as they shifted, pulling them back to him, but the moment their faces were mere inches apart, time seemed to pause. Their eyes were locked onto his, unflinching and intense. There was something fierce there, a silent challenge that pulled at something deeper inside him, stoking the embers in his guts. It was like they were daring him, testing him not just as an opponent but as someone who understood the fire behind their eyes.

E must have seen the battle between reason and desire flicker in his gaze because they seized the moment, breaking free in a swift motion. Logan let them go, both impressed and curious, wanting to see what they’d do next. They didn’t waste a second, attacking with renewed vigor, moving like a force of nature, their body a seamless weapon of precision and raw determination. Logan could feel the shift—a resolve in them, the power that had been lying dormant now fully awakened. They weren’t holding back anymore, weren’t playing it safe. The series of blows they threw with rapid precision drew him into that primal place where his instincts ruled, and he was forced to meet them there, letting the feral part in him slip closer to the surface. The thrill of it sparked through his veins like wildfire.

“Alright,” he growled under his breath, almost laughing as he absorbed another blow and stepped back, chest heaving. “So you’re not playin’ around.”

Their eyes glimmered, never breaking eye contact, that confident grin tugging at their lips. They let out a breathy laugh, low and challenging. “You finally noticed?” they teased, their voice smooth with the thrill of the fight. There was something almost predatory in the way they held his gaze, the way they readied themselves for the next round. The air between them was tight, charged, every breath a shared battle. They circled each other once more, both panting heavily now, both intent, and Logan shifted his stance, ready for whatever came next.

He braced himself as they lunged, and this time, he met them head-on, gripping their fist mid-swing. The impact sent a shock through them both, a raw electricity that stilled the moment. E didn’t pull back, and neither did he. The space between them buzzed with an unspoken understanding—a recognition of equals, of opponents who respected each other enough to give everything.

Logan’s gaze drifted over their features, taking in the fierce focus, the glint in their eyes that had come alive in the heat of combat. He could feel his own pulse thundering in his chest, the thrill of the challenge, the sheer admiration for their skill. Whoever they were, whatever their story, they were damn impressive.

Their faces stayed close, eyes locked in a dance of silent words and wild, racing thoughts. He realized then, amidst the push and pull, that they weren’t just sparring. They were testing each other, challenging what they thought they knew.

When they finally broke apart, their breath heavy, Logan took in the slight rise and fall of their chest, the gleam of sweat on their neck. He let out a slow, impressed hum. “You weren’t holdin’ back, were ya?” His voice was low, rough with something more than exertion.

“Not my style.” E’s sly smile was full of restrained satisfaction. “But I thought you’d be a little faster, Wolverine,” they taunted, breathing hard, a mischievous edge to their tone.

Logan chuckled, the sound more rumble than laugh. He rolled his shoulders, a smirk playing on his lips as he nodded. “And you’re better than I thought. Maybe I misjudged ya.” The admission came with its own weight, but it felt right. “Wasn’t expectin’ you to get that fired up.”

And there it was again, that pull in the air between them, a flash of mutual acknowledgment that only seemed to heighten E’s energy. It hung in the air like an invisible thread, binding them to something that was no longer just a sparring match.

“Guess you bring out the best in me,” E added, their voice softer now but no less charged as they straightened, wiping a sheen of sweat from their brow.

This fight, this moment, was more than just a test of strength; it felt like a line had been crossed, an unspoken understanding forged in the heat of battle. Logan’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, and for once, he didn’t bother suppressing the feeling. He’d had his fair share of fights, of sparring matches, but this had felt different—charged, almost like a trial, a test that had changed something between them.

He let a smirk tug at the corner of his lips. “Seems like we both do, huh?”

Their gaze glinted, a hint of mischief mixed with something he couldn’t quite place. “Careful,” they said, voice low, “You might actually start liking me.”

He shook his head, though a glint of something warmer shone in his eyes. “Don’t go gettin’ ideas. I still don’t trust ya,” he said, though there was a reluctant admiration in his tone. “But I can’t deny you’ve got skills.”

They both stood there in the quiet clearing, the tension between them heavy and electric. It wasn’t just the fight that left him on edge—it was that undeniable force that surged through them, the energy that seemed to bloom under his attention, his respect.

They held his gaze a moment longer, something unspoken passing between them. And finally, E’s expression softened, the intensity in their eyes dimming as they nodded slightly. “You ever want another round, you know where to find me,” they said before turning on their heels, the tension between them lingering like the echo of a battle not quite over.

As they walked away, carrying their shoes in one hand, Logan felt a strange pull, something magnetic urging him forward, a reflexive need to know more. Before he could think better of it, he called out after them, half-jogging to close the distance. E paused, glancing back with a raised eyebrow and a hint of amusement in their eyes.

They were checking their phone, frowning at a few missed calls, their thumb hovering over the screen to call back. But before they could hit the button, Logan spoke up, his voice steady despite the racing of his heart. “When d’you reckon we could do this again?”

They looked up, and for a second, there was a gleam of something mischievous in their eyes, a playful spark that was hard to miss. Their lips curved, and that teasing smile tugged at him in a way that caught him off guard. “Oh, can’t get enough of me now, huh, pretty boy?”

Logan felt a tingle in his gut, the playful edge in their voice threw him for a second, that casual nickname landing unexpectedly. They made him feel like he was fifteen again, trying to play it cool in front of someone who seemed way out of his league—a completely new feeling for him. A part of him wanted to fire something back, maybe a quip about how he wasn’t in it for them, but for their skills. But he deflected instead, maintaining his composure. “I want to know more about your style. It’d be good for the team. Could give us an edge, y’know?”

“Good for the team,” E echoed, amusement flashing in their gaze as they cocked their head, weighing him. “If you say so.”

They turned their phone over in their hand, clearly tempted to tease him further, but before they could say anything, he cut them off, “Remember the training sessions Charles mentioned in the meeting? Did he told you about the Danger Room?”

E raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing at their lips. “I might have heard of it… but maybe you could tell me a little more?”

Logan nodded, sensing an opportunity. “Well, it’s…let’s just say it’s our own personal, high-stakes training ground. If you want, I can walk you through it sometime.”

E considered him for a moment, their posture straightening as they regained their composure. “Alright. How about we meet back here tonight, after dinner, for some sparring again, and then you can tell me more about this danger room you’re talking about.”

“Tonight, huh?” he said, a hint of a smirk returning. “Yeah, I can make that work.”

“Good,” they murmured, their hand brushing his arm as they stepped past him, a fleeting, electrifying touch that sent a shiver through his skin. It was nothing—a casual touch—but it was enough to spark that strange charge between them again, something he could feel deep in his gut.

“See you tonight, then,” E said with a half-smile, their voice low, almost intimate. They turned, heading back toward the mansion with that damn sway in their step, every move as deliberate as their fighting style, leaving him there, watching and feeling just a bit off-balance. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, tonight, he was in for more than just another spar.

Logan was no stranger to being haunted by his thoughts, and most of the time, it was his past. But this was different—it wasn’t memories lingering in his head, it was someone alive and present, shifting through his thoughts like they had every right to be there. He’d spent the better part of the day moving from task to task, hoping that the routine would get his head on straight. He’d given three history lectures to classes who looked mostly bored out of their minds, walked the mansion perimeter twice, and even joined Hank in the lab for a solid hour before irritation got the best of him.

And still, every damn time he tried to clear his head, they were there. E. A quiet thrill snuck through him at the memory of their last spar, at the way they’d moved with that sharpened focus, picking up on his admiration like they could feel it.

Which they probably could. If his suspicions were right, E could sense admiration the way he could sense a lie—and that alone was a reason to keep his distance. But he hadn’t, not really. He’d leaned into it, watching the way they seemed to glow under his attention. That look in their eyes when they caught his gaze? Couldn’t shake it.

Damn it, it was making him question everything.

You’re not some lovesick puppy, bub, he thought, dragging his hand through his hair, frustrated. Get your head on straight.

E wasn’t his responsibility, not in the usual sense. He wasn’t there to watch over them or protect them. That wasn’t his job. Not that they needed him to, anyway. But the pull they had on him—some strange mix of curiosity and something else—wasn’t something he could easily shake off. He wasn’t sure if it was admiration, attraction, or something more dangerous, but it gnawed at him all the same.

Things never ended well when he got close, especially with someone like them. It was better, safer, to keep his instincts in check.

But still, when he thought about seeing them again, it felt like a twist in his gut, like he was waiting for something he couldn’t name, something primal. It was maddening, intoxicating—a feeling he hated as much as he longed for. And he couldn’t help himself.

His thoughts braught him back to them again, as he remembered the way E’s strikes had picked up speed, their movements sharpening with every surge of his admiration. The memory sent a chill down his spine. His jaw clenched as his mind raced. The urge to spar again—to see how far he could push them, what more they could become—tugged at him. But damn it, he had to remind himself to focus. He was here, not in the damn glade.

“Get ahold of yourself, damn it,” he muttered, hoping the sound of his voice might help break the spell. “You’ve got enough ghosts followin’ you around, don’t go invitin’ another.”

But E wasn’t a ghost. They were sharp, present, and so fucking alive. He didn’t want to admit it, but that made all the difference. This wasn’t some lingering regret or phantom from his past. It was real. And that made everything harder.

It wasn’t just his admiration—it was the way they challenged him, the way they made him feel. That pull, that instinctive response—it was there, simmering under the surface. And maybe that was what scared him the most.

Because even now, he couldn’t decide if it was them or their powers making him feel this way. The pull was real, but was it them? Or just some side effect of them feeding off his admiration?

Damn it. Logan clenched his fists, trying to shake it off. But no matter how much he fought it, E’s presence lingered, just out of reach, but never really gone. They weren’t his responsibility, not really—but hell if his instincts weren’t practically begging to make them his.

Hours dragged on, the sun dipping lower in the sky, but Logan found himself waiting for night to come. Waiting for the next sparring session. His body was wound tight, focus frayed, and he knew damn well it was because of them. No matter how hard he tried to pull himself back, some part of him was already leaning forward, eager to step into that clearing again, to see how much further they could go, how much more they could push each other.

His reason fought to resist, but he honestly wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep fighting it.

Logan settled into his seat in the dining room, but he wasn’t really there. He’d forced himself to join the others for dinner, hoping that the casual chatter would ground him, help shake E from his mind. But as plates clattered and conversations flowed, he found his thoughts still circling back to them—and to the way their strength had fed off his admiration. It gnawed at him, that feeling he’d fueled them somehow, that his respect had made them stronger, sharper. A part of him didn’t want to go down that road, but damn if he wasn’t already obsessing about the next sparring session, counting down the minutes.

He tried to focus on the idle talk around the table, but most of it only seemed to make his hackles rise. People were talking about E—debating whether they’d be joining the team in the future or if this was just a one-off thing. To them, it felt like E was edging their way in, and they didn’t like it. He could see the unease in Bobby’s frown, the way Marie’s gaze flitted to him, clearly feeling out where he stood on all this.

Eventually, the young woman turned to him, her brow raised in question. “So, Logan… what d’you make of her?” she asked, misgendering E without a second thought. “You’ve spent more time with her than the rest of us. ”

His reaction was swift and sharp, his tone a bit harsher than intended. “Them,” he corrected, voice edged. He took a steadying breath, reigning himself back. “They prefer ‘them.’”

Marie and Kitty exchanged a glance at that, a silent conversation that didn’t escape his notice. He forced himself to ignore it, though the sting of irritation remained, mingling with a faint, unexpected defensiveness. He wasn’t the type to stand on ceremony or correct people just to be polite. Still, he wasn’t going to stand by and let them talk about E without a damn bit of respect. But again, why the hell did he feel like he needed to stick up for them?

He tried to keep his tone casual as he shrugged, downplaying it like he didn’t care one way or another. “They’re alright. They’ve helped me out with some legal work, actually. Seems like they know what they’re doing. We sparred too… they’ve got a style that’s different. Pretty sharp. Could be good for you all to pick up some of that.”

The more he spoke, the harder it became to keep the admiration out of his voice. It wasn’t just that they were capable—there was something in the way they moved, the way they fought. Respect had never come easily to him, but with E, it was there, raw and undeniable.

Kitty raised an eyebrow, intrigued, and Logan felt a small spark of irritation as she leaned in. “What’s so special about it?”

He tried to keep it casual but the words flew out of him before he could stop them. “It’s… fast, strong, fluid… almost like watching something crafted. Like art.” Damn it. He hadn’t meant to let so much appreciation slip through, but it was hard to ignore how their moves had lingered in his mind all day.

His comment hung in the air, and he could see the others’ gazes shift toward him, noting how his tone had softened. He resisted the urge to roll his eyes, feeling a bit exposed under their scrutiny.

“What’s their power, though?” Bobby asked, curiosity written across his face.

Before Logan could even think of a response, a smooth voice coming from the doorway cut him off. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a lady about their powers?”

Logan turned, catching sight of E leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over their chest, a teasing smirk on their lips. They looked different than they had after sparring earlier—not as radiant, but still damn good, with that casual confidence that could set anyone on edge. They had changed again, now in some kind of foreign traditional outfit, somehow looking both beautiful and dangerous as their gaze shifted over each face at the table.

Bobby’s cheeks flushed pink at E’s words, and he fumbled for a response, while Marie shot them a half-hearted glare. Logan didn’t miss the slight flicker in E’s expression—a hint of something softer, like a crack in their armor, but it was gone in an instant, too quick for anyone else to catch.

Ororo was the first to break the silence. “What brings you here, E?”

E straightened, sauntering into the room with an air of nonchalance, though their smirk said otherwise, metal chiming on their ankles and wrists. “Sorry to interrupt,” they said, though the smirk made it clear they weren’t sorry at all. “I’m just here for Logan,” they added when reaching him, their hand finding his shoulder and resting there, as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

Logan’s frown deepened at their words and actions—like they owned him, like he’d just been summoned. Something primal flared within him at the look in their eyes, and he fought to keep his own expression in check, unwilling to let that part of himself show.

“We had another sparring session planned,” he explained quickly, shrugging off their hand, his tone a bit too abrupt. He didn’t want them getting any strange ideas about what this was.

E gave a small nod, a glint of mischief in their eyes. “Yes, a sparring session,” they repeated, voice low and almost playful. Their gaze lingered on him for just a beat too long, that glint sending his instincts flaring.

They turned with a casual wave of their hand, bracelets chiming with the motion, before glancing back at him over their shoulder as they sauntered back toward the hallway. “I’ll be outside. Don’t take too long,” they tossed back with a wink, disappearing around the corner.

The room went quiet as E left, the tension hanging thick in the air. Logan forced himself to finish his meal, trying to ignore the eyes on him. He could practically feel the questions lingering unsaid, the looks exchanged behind his back. But he kept his focus on his plate, forcing himself to eat slowly even as impatience thrummed beneath his skin. Finally, he excused himself, heading into the kitchen to put his dishes in the dishwasher before slipping out the back.

When Logan reached the clearing, he found E sitting cross-legged in the grass, the deep black of their tunic blending with the shadows, disturbed only by the dark red sash at their waist. When they shifted, the golden and crimson bracelets at their wrists and ankles chimed softly, each note cutting through the quiet night. Even their hair and makeup, immaculately done, added an edge to their poised, lethal beauty—a sharp contrast to the rawness of their last sparring session.

They looked like they were dressed to perform and, for a few heartbeats, he was mesmerized. They were utterly still, chest rising and falling so slowly that they could almost pass for a statue, something sculpted by a master, with an eye for each curve and line. The moonlight washed over them, casting an ethereal glow that only added to the aura around them, one part mystery, one part raw strength.

They had felt him, of course. He didn’t have to make a sound; the energy rolling off him was enough. A faint, knowing smile blossomed on their red-painted lips, soft at first, then sharper as it settled. Eyes still closed, they spoke, their voice smooth as silk in the quiet night. “I’m glad we’re doing this again, Logan.” They paused, savoring the weight of his gaze. “I couldn’t focus all day. You… lingered.”

Logan felt his pulse kick up a notch, his mind flicking back to his own restless day—the way he’d had to force himself to push through the usual motions, when all he really wanted was to get back here, back to them. He tried to keep his expression steady, giving a small shrug as he stepped closer. “Your style’s… intriguing,” he said, hoping it sounded casual, unaffected. But he knew better, and they did too; the spark of warmth they felt from him seemed to seep into their own energy, feeding them.

They savored it, and now he could tell. He watched as something in them shifted, as if they were becoming more than they had been a moment earlier, like his presence and attention added a new depth to their form. Finally, they opened their golden-hooded eyes, meeting his gaze head-on. The shimmer of the powder accentuated the sharpness of their stare, turning it into something almost regal.

Rising to their feet with the delicate chime of metal, they moved with an effortless grace, stretching in a way that was deliberate, flexing their muscles as though reminding him of what he was about to face. “It’s called kalaripayattu,” E said, their voice steady. “It was my foundation. But… it changed, especially in Turkey.” Their gaze darkened momentarily, a flicker of something painful passing through their expression before it settled into a smirk, masking the past. “Not all evolutions come from the best places.”

Logan's jaw tightened at the admission, a familiar pang settling low in his chest. He’d seen that look before—the one that spoke of scars hidden under skin, memories too heavy to carry yet impossible to drop. The urge to say something, to tell them he understood that kind of burden, nearly surfaced, but he bit it back. This wasn’t the moment for words; they both knew that. Instead, he nodded, letting the unspoken understanding hang between them as he rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he watched them, that low hum of anticipation lighting up in him again.

E grounded themselves, digging their toes into the grass like they did before their last fight, finding their balance in a way that was both practiced and primal. Their stance shifted, flowing into something new—a crouched position, one leg stretched back and the other supporting them low to the ground, arms raised toward the sky, palms pressed together, like a warrior in prayer. The pose was unexpected, striking, and undeniably dangerous.

“You ready for round two, pretty boy?” They smirked, mischief dancing across their face, challenging him in a way that was hard to ignore.

Logan felt his pulse spike at the nickname, an involuntary reaction he stubbornly refused to acknowledge. It got under his skin in a way that was both infuriating and exhilarating, making his chest tighten with something unspoken. He cracked his knuckles, returning their smirk with one of his own. “You think you got it in you to keep up?” His tone was thick with confidence, with that hint of wild pride that only emerged when he faced someone capable of pushing him to his limits.

“Oh, I know I do, sugar.” They let the word roll off their tongue with a teasing lilt, eyes gleaming with challenge.

They shared a look, two rivals who’d found a rare equal, sizing each other up, caught between the thrill of the fight and the satisfaction of knowing that tonight, there was no one else who could possibly match them.

And then, as the tension reached its peak, both held taut in that breathless moment, they launched at each other. Their bodies collided, a clash of motion and control, every inch a dance of precision—not with brute force, but with a dynamic grace, a synergy that felt almost primal. E moved first, sliding low to the ground, almost flowing, their actions fluid and deliberate, bracelets and anklets chiming with every shift. Each touch, each brush of their hand along his arm, shoulder, and side was deceptively soft, like a caress meant to lure rather than harm. But Logan wasn’t fooled. He felt the energy coiled in every motion, understood just how deadly each one could be if they chose it to be. He knew the strength they were capable of. Those strikes—gentle as they were—carried a restrained power, and he sensed it, a whisper of the damage they could inflict if they changed their mind and decided to hurt him.

They circled each other in a rhythm that came as naturally as breathing, bodies weaving in and out, almost as if bound by a magnetic pull. E struck out with an open palm, a grazing motion that skimmed across his ribs, a warning rather than a blow. Logan responded, ducking low and twisting around, countering with a restrained swing that they sidestepped with ease, pivoting on one leg, the other extended gracefully behind them. Their fighting style was a thing of beauty—each move sharp, controlled, yet inherently lethal. It was all in the restraint, the elegance in the way they flowed around him, closing the distance only to slip away, like waves ebbing back from the shore.

The touches, brief as they were, left lingering warmth against his skin, almost delicate in contrast to the fierce intent that lay beneath them. Logan could sense it with every shift in their stance, every breath they took—if E wanted to, they could bring him to his knees. It was a tantalizing threat, one that made his blood sing with the thrill of the fight.

In return, he matched their intensity with his own. He countered with his own practiced moves, his ferocity meeting their grace—rougher, rawer, like fire pushing against wind. He didn’t back down, wasn’t about to let them get too close without a response. He dodged, weaved, barely avoiding some of their strikes, slipping by with mere inches to spare. When they made contact—a calculated strike to his shoulder—he could feel the charged intent behind it, even as they held back, making him stagger back just enough to shake it off, smirking, before charging in again. They danced around him, a perfect, untamed rhythm building between them, and he found himself moving faster, sharper, like every step forward fueled the energy between them, both testing the other without any intent to truly harm. He could feel it in the air between them—something feral, almost like a mating ritual, the way their movements mirrored, challenged, and matched.

They struck again, this time low, forcing him to leap back and adjust, his grin widening with every movement. It was as if they were bound not by competition but by an unspoken connection—a bond that thrived on the intensity, the way they pushed each other without ever holding back. They were not opponents, nor allies in the typical sense. There was no give, no yield. Neither wanted to win or lose. They just wanted to keep moving, to stay in that almost sacred moment, as if time could stretch itself around them, infinite, like two forces swirling endlessly into one another, an ouroboros that neither began nor ended.

E’s presence seemed to shift, to pulse with each strike and dodge, a captivating intensity building under the lights as if drawing energy from the exhilaration in Logan’s gaze. The more he felt—admiration, awe, the raw thrill of the dance—the more vivid they seemed, their form almost transcending reality in the moonlight. Their eyes gleamed with pure, unfiltered joy, and he saw it, saw the way they thrived under his gaze, every ounce of respect and challenge he sent their way amplifying their allure, making them seem more vivid with each passing second. They absorbed his fire, his strength, and reflected it back, their entire being moving with an entrancing grace that felt more alive than the world around them, their movements turning quicker, sharper, a need to show him more, to perform for him, to be seen. It was like they wanted him to witness the full extent of who they were, to understand how much he fueled them, empowered them.

And still, they did not relent. They wove through their attacks with such artful grace, arms sweeping in wide, lethal arcs that never quite struck him, but came close enough to make his heart race. Logan could feel the tension build in every swipe and brush of their hands, a coil wound tight within him, a primal urge to keep going, to fight like this until the stars themselves faded from the sky.

In a final sweep, they pivoted and leapt into the air, their body twisting mid-flight as they spun over his head, landing with barely a sound, crouched low, their gaze burning as they looked up at him, alive with energy, skin aglow. They seemed transformed, radiating something almost otherworldly, as if their exchange had unlocked something deep within them.

They rose slowly, never breaking eye contact, a faint smirk tugging at the edges of their lips, and Logan felt a surge of awe and something deeper, something inexplicable. This hadn’t just been a fight—it was communion, the give-and-take of two forces that could spend eternity bound in this endless, exhilarating cycle. In that timeless, breathless exchange, Logan felt the truth of it. He’d found someone who matched him, who fed off the same fire, who thrived under the heat of his gaze just as he could under theirs. And as he steadied himself, breath ragged, he knew one thing for certain—he didn’t want this moment to end.

But then, unexpectedly, E burst out laughing—an honest, unrestrained, melodic laugh that broke free as if from a place long hidden. They threw their head back toward the sky, eyes closed, arms open, an untamed joy that caught Logan completely off-guard. That sound—it wasn’t mocking, nor was it triumphant. It was raw, genuine happiness and it sent a ripple through him, something deep and visceral. His chest tightened at the sight, at the way E’s expression softened for just a breath, letting the mask slip enough to reveal the humanity underneath all that skill and bravado.

It lasted only a few heartbeats, but in that space, Logan felt a shift. The air between them crackled differently, heavier, as if the laughter had broken down an invisible barrier neither had admitted was there. E’s eyes met his, searching, almost daring him to react, to see beyond the sparring and the guarded quips. For once, there was no battle in their gaze, only an invitation.

Logan’s eyes lingered on them as he tried to steady his breathing. A slow grin creeped across his lips, a rare thing that made the edges of his face soften, the soft, unguarded joy in E’s laugh still echoing in his mind. “Enjoying yourself, huh?” he said, voice rougher than he intended, a mix of exertion and something deeper. He’d seen them as fierce, elusive, hidden behind layers that only cracked in quick, playful smirks. But tonight, they’d shown him something true, almost sacred, and he couldn’t look away .

E’s smile didn’t fade as they stepped closer, their chest rising and falling in time with their breaths. “More than you know,” they replied, voice low and charged, carrying a promise unspoken yet understood. They stood close enough that he could feel the warmth radiating from their skin, the space between them almost humming with potential.

Logan’s gaze couldn't leave them, their bare sincerity, their easy grace, the way they stood under the stars as though they belonged there more than any place he’d ever seen. For once, he was stripped of any clever response, any guard. He didn’t look away, either, though something in him warned he probably should. He could feel it—how much more they seemed to want to show him. How much closer he wanted to be.

They could feel the fire burning in his gut, feeding their hunger in a way that made the ache to stoke it grow stronger. Under his curious eyes, they began moving in slow, hypnotic turns, delicate and precise, metallic chimes echoing from their wrists and ankles. They were dancing—an ancient and untamed choreography, meant only for the night air, the moon, the stars, and him. Logan could almost feel the pulse of their energy in his bones, awakening that place deep inside him that almost never stirred, except in moments like this—moments fleeting and rare. His reason urged him to keep his guard up, but his defenses were slipping, worn down by the rhythm of their dance and the raw humanity of their movements. He found himself stilling, breathing slow, caught in the silent music only they could hear.

Then, they stopped, releasing a deep, contented sigh, like someone freed after being bound for far too long. They looked at him, an unfiltered calm in their gaze, and the sight of it drew something close to an ache in him.

“Thank you, Logan,” they said, their voice holding a warmth he rarely heard from anyone.

He gave a short nod, gruff as always, but inside, her words struck him with a strange weight. “Didn’t do much,” he muttered quietly, shrugging it off.

“Oh, but you did.” E’s lips curved up, but there was no teasing, no facade, only quiet gratitude. They extended their hands, twisting their fingers and wrists slowly in delicate, almost playful movements, while their bracelets chimed softly against their skin, as though savoring the freedom, the lightness they’d reclaimed. “Since you gifted me peace, tonight, I’m gonna give you a gift of my own,” they whispered, stepping forward. They reached out, their fingers brushing his forearm, a casual touch that set his nerves on fire. "You’re leaving yourself open here," they murmured, their skin grazing his, their voice close enough to send a shiver down his spine.

A current shot through him, sharp and electric, but he rolled his shoulders, masking his reaction behind a rough mutter. “Ain’t used to sparrin’ against dancers.”

“You’ll learn,” they replied, their smirk tugging back into place, the hint of that earlier mischief glinting in their gaze again.

For a moment, they both fell silent, the night air cooling around them. E’s eyes shifted upward, to the expanse of stars overhead, and Logan felt the pull too. The sky was scattered with pinpricks of light, stretching endlessly into the dark. It reminded him of how vast everything was, how small he was within it, how his years—his long, battle-hardened years—were just a blink in the vastness above. And yet here, with them, under this open sky, he felt strangely anchored.

Beside him, E’s voice softened, thoughtful. “You ever feel like you don’t belong anywhere?”

Their words hit him, catching him off guard, reaching into places he usually kept sealed. It gnawed at him, the way they stood there looking like a piece of the sky had touched down, that soft glow in their eyes, one of peace, of gratitude, maybe even of kinship. There were few people who’d ever asked him something like that, fewer still who might actually understand the answer.

“More often than you’d think,” he muttered, the words escaping before he could second-guess them. He kept his eyes trained on the stars, the expansive sky above, as if it could ease the ache that always lingered somewhere in his chest. “Don’t matter where I go, or who I’m with—there’s always this… hole. Even when I’ve got a good thing goin’ on.”

They stayed quiet, listening, and somehow that silence gave him the space to keep talking.

“I got a family here, I know that. Hell, got more people than I ever thought I’d get who actually care if I stick around or not,” he said, his voice gruff, but his words open. “But sometimes… feels like I’m just borrowin’ time. Waitin’ till somethin’ pulls me back out there.” He motioned vaguely to the woods, to the wild that always seemed to call his name when he lingered too long within four walls.

E shifted, their eyes softening, and that glow in them brightened almost imperceptibly, as if his words, raw as they were, had stirred something in them. They looked at him in a way that felt like understanding, a wordless acceptance of the parts he rarely let anyone see. He felt his pulse stir again, just under his skin, something vulnerable and hungry for connection clawing its way out.

“Maybe you’re meant to belong somewhere that’s not on a map, you know?” They tilted their head thoughtfully, a gentle shrug in their shoulders. “I know that sounds… vague, but some of us are a little too wild, even for this world. Doesn’t mean you’re without a place, Logan. Maybe it’s just somewhere different.”

Logan let the words sink in, feeling the honesty in them settle like warmth into his chest. He wasn’t used to anyone framing it like that. Usually, the mansion’s residents treated his absences like quirks, a fact of his nature, but it was different with E. They seemed to see through his wanderlust, to recognize something in it that went deeper than just the need to roam.

“Hell, maybe,” he murmured, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shrug off the sudden vulnerability that gripped him. “Dunno if anyone ever told me it was all right to be that way.”

“Guess I just did,” they said, that teasing gleam returning, but softer this time. “Wherever you belong, Logan… you’re welcome in my orbit.”

He raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at his lips. “What happened to ‘I don’t need anyone, especially not you’?” His voice was rough, but there was an unmistakable spark of curiosity in his eyes.

E’s expression faltered for a moment, a flicker of defensiveness tightening their features before they smoothed it out. “I don’t need anyone,” they repeated, but the words held a different tone now—less sharp, more open. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t offer a place to someone who needs it… if they want it.”

The words hung between them, suspended in the night air. Logan felt himself drawn to them again, a subtle battle between reason and instinct churning inside him once more. The reasonable part of him couldn’t fathom giving in to that unspoken need, but another part of him, primal, wanted to reach out, to take up their offer without a second thought. So against his better judgment, he let himself step closer, studying the way they seemed to radiate with a quiet strength, a calm that fed into his own unrest in a way he couldn’t quite grasp.

E met his gaze, eyes steady and searching. “Who knows, maybe it could calm the need to wander for a time.”

A flicker of something softened Logan’s expression as he watched them, the words settling deep. “Not a lotta people see me,” he admitted, his voice gruff but his gaze locked onto theirs. “Not like this.”

E smiled, soft but sure. “Maybe because most people aren’t looking in the right places.”

They reached out, their hand brushing his forearm lightly once again, this time lingering—grounding him as much as it startled him. The tension between them was palpable, gnawing at his insides, at that hollow void that filled him. It felt like their connection was solidifying, and it was dangerous. It made his pulse race, his mind screaming at him to pull back, even as every fiber of him longed to stay close. He felt the warmth of their fingers as they pulled away, leaving a faint tingle in their wake. And suddenly, he wanted to know more about them—where they came from, what scars they hid beneath their words and allure, where they honed their fighting skills, what their true power was. So many questions burned on his lips, but he settled for something less intrusive instead.

“What about you… you ever stick around long enough to feel like you could belong somewhere?” he asked, voice low. He didn’t know where the question came from, only that it was out there now, drawn out by a need to connect, another piece of himself he rarely showed.

E paused, searching his eyes. “Once, maybe,” they murmured, and for a moment, a flicker of something deeply personal passed over their face. “But not for a long time.”

The weight of their words hung between them. They shifted again, the lingering sorrow barely visible before it was replaced by their usual confidence. But Logan caught it, the faint sadness, the echo of a familiar ache that mirrored his own. For just a heartbeat, they weren’t his rival, his partner in combat—they were something else, something fragile and human, someone who understood, and it awakened his protective instincts, making his claws itch under his skin.

“Guess we both got a little lost along the way,” he said softly.

They nodded, still holding his gaze, that warm glow growing just a touch brighter. “Then maybe we don’t need a map tonight. Just… a moment to be here.” Their eyes softened, catching his, and the way they looked at him, as if he was the only other soul in the universe, chipped away at some wall he hadn’t even known was still there.

Logan managed a rough smile, a smirk that barely covered the pull he felt toward them. “Guess I could live with that.”

E’s smile spread, almost in relief, as the two of them stood there—not fighters, not strangers, but two people sharing the same quiet space under the stars, filling the empty places between them, if only for a little while. Before he could stop himself, his thumb found its way to their cheek. The pull between them felt almost tangible, a lifeline connecting two drifting souls lost in the unending current of life.

Their face relaxed instantly under his touch, their eyes closing as a deep sigh escaped their lungs. They sensed his desire before he even realized what he was about to do. The world around them seemed to fade, the rustle of leaves and distant hum of crickets dissolving into the quiet thrum of their hearts. He leaned in, his lips so close they could feel the warmth of his breath, the space between them charged with anticipation.

And then they felt it—a subtle, almost magnetic pull as the energy began to flow, unbidden, from him to them. It was faint, like the first tremor of a storm. Panic flickered behind their eyes as they opened, the realization sharp and immediate. With a graceful tilt of their head, E shifted just enough for his lips to brush their cheek instead, the warmth there a bittersweet reminder of what could have been.

Logan froze for a moment, surprise flickering across his expression before he blinked, as if shaking off a spell broken by the soft press of his lips against their cheek. He pulled back, eyes searching theirs for answers, confusion and something deeper swirling in their depths. The space between them thickened, heavy with the unspoken.

“I—” E’s voice wavered, a soft, apologetic smile tugging at their lips as their fingers drifted to the necklace at their throat, the cool pearl grounding them. “It’s late,” they said, each word layered with unexpressed longing.

Logan’s brows knit together, confusion still etched across his face as he took in their expression, the unguarded look that spoke of things they couldn’t voice. E took a long, steady look at him, memorizing the rough kindness in his eyes and the silent question he wouldn’t push. The pull between them ached with what they had to refuse.

With a deep breath, E took a step back. “Goodnight, Logan.”

The silence lingered as he watched them walk away, their silhouette fading into the night. Logan couldn’t shake the feeling that something had shifted—something deeper than he’d anticipated. And for the first time since they’d met, he wondered just how much control he truly had over the pull that tethered him to them, an unknown force that defied the walls he’d spent a lifetime building.

To be continued…

Notes: If you enjoyed it, don't forget to comment and spread the love 😊 More on the way!

✨ Masterlist ✨

Don't forget to follow the tags "Devilish Desires" and "xpressit writings" to stay tuned for the next chapters 😁

🔖 @quillycrow

[acaplaya-musings]

Voiceplay-adjacent Visuals: Folsom Prison Blues

Never have I been so much of a fan of a country song (or at least, a country song performed by a male singer) before!

Geoff's cover of Folsom Prison Blues was uploaded on the 6th of August, 2023, and it's another one of my 3 favourite videos on his channel. Emphasis on "video", because although the song is great and it's yet again a cool arrangement of his, the video is what really sells it for me. So without further ado, let's get into it!

If you've watched the video (of course you have) and watched at least the first bit of Geoff's outro at the end (I hope you have), then you'll know that Geoff legit rented out an actual legit prison for this video! No longer used of course, and I think this section was the only part of the prison that actually still looked like one, but still! (Shoutout to the Patrons who helped make it possible for Geoff to do this! I'm still considering joining Geoff's Patreon myself tbh.)

I didn't think it was possible for Geoff to look any more handsome than he already usually does, but Geoff in glasses? Whoo yes please! 👀👌 (Or should I say, "Jeff" in glasses? 😉)

Also check out the book he's reading! It's a Johnny Cash book! (A little nod to the original artist of the song, of course)

So what's up with the numbers on the uniforms, and how do I know that the one in the glasses is "Jeff"? Well they're connected! Each uniform has a different number on it, and each number connects to a letter, phone-keypad style:

So the one in the glasses (and now holding that book in a very questionable way) has the uniform number 05333, which can be translated as _-J-E-F-F. Then next to him we have uniform number 43633, which translates to G-E-O-F-F, aka "Lead Geoff" (also context clues can help you out here - he's the lead vocalist for this one, and therefore, it's Geoff 😁)

Walking up to the foreground we have uniform number 32795, which is Daryl! (Fun story: I've done a few Voiceplay/Geoff marathons with two of my best friends (always via video chat, because I like seeing their reactions but also there's no way I'm letting them listen without headphones), and when we were watching Folsom Prison Blues and we got to this bit, one of my friends exclaimed "holy crap he's jacked?!?!" 😂)

And I'll clarify now that the one leaning(?) on the cell door has the uniform number 53674, and it's Jeoph!

(Apparently Kathy told people in the live chat or something that Goff isn't in this one because he's a good boy who would never end up in jail, or something like that 😆)

I'm guessing you've noticed how very fluffy Geoff's hair is in this one? 😁 (And also the prominence of his white-grey streak, gotta point that out too <3). Apparently it was quite a warm day when this video was being filmed, and quite humid too, and the "set" was open-air with no air-conditioning or proper cooling system to speak of. And look, as someone who lives in Queensland, Australia (which is frequently Humidity Central during summers), I can certainly sympathise, but dang the humidity didn't do him any sort of disservice, that's for sure! 👀

Also, because there is plenty of natural light for the shots in this one, this is another good video for exhibiting Geoff's actual eye colour (hazel), because the tinges of green are decently noticeable in this one! <3

To quote one of the comments: "a Geoff being unimpressed with other Geoffs will never not be funny" 😂

(Also more appreciation for Jeff in glasses, while he's still wearing them, because he (sadly /hj) takes them off as the first verse starts getting repeated, and then doesn't put them back on till right at the end!)

How nice of you to decide to join in, Jeoph! 😆

Also notice that the "Geoffs"/"Quadruplets" here each have a slight difference to their outfits? (Until Jeff takes the glasses off, anyway). It's in the sleeve lengths! Well, if there are any sleeves at all of course. Daryl is wearing a sleeveless shirt (we always stan <3), Geoff has sleeves rolled down to his elbows, and both Jeff and Jeoph have sleeves rolled up higher than their elbows! (Took me freaking ages to notice that, ngl).

(Though note even when Jeff takes off his glasses, he still keeps them hanging off his shirt, so they're still kinda technically a point of difference)

(And is it just the lighting, or is it just me, but is Jeff's shirt slightly different in colour to Jeoph's? Or am I just losing it a little bit? 😅)

I'm not someone who usually cares much about how physically strong/muscled a person is, but boy, he really do be jacked!

(Also necklace pendant in full view!)

"Don't ever play with guns!"

(Sharing this image because I literally only just noticed Daryl's sort of "warning finger" gesture (and accompanying facial expression 😝), though it's literally right at the start of the shot and he pulls his hand back fairly quickly)

(Sidenote: I adore the way that Geoff gives his "Backup Geoffs/Clones" individual personalities/identities in some of his videos, I can't get enough of it, and as much as I love the "truly solo" stuff he's been doing since, I hope I get to see multiple "Geoff clones" in a video again sooner or later (NOTE: yes this was written very much before Unshaken was released))

What's that you're holding there, Jeff? 😉

Also shoutout for not only the acting work by Geoff in this (subtle but certainly valuable), but the editing too! We're getting multiple angles of Jeff, Geoff, Daryl, and Jeoph, who all start in different positions in the foreground/midground/background btw, and it looks clean as anything! Maybe it's not actually too hard to do, relatively speaking at least, but had you shown this to me in like 2018 or something, that alone would have blown my mind, let alone the rest!

Harmonica time! Truly a man of many skills and talents! (Apparently Geoff used to play harmonica for a Blues Brothers show he did at Universal Studios Orlando or something (knowing how to play it was fully required to perform in the show), and he brushed up on his skills/knowledge for this video!)

Also I know it's obviously much more common to know how to play guitar than harmonica, but I found it a little amusing at how literally not a single reactor batted an eyelid at Geoff "playing" guitar in Man Of Constant Sorrow (though he's overall better at playing it via piano plug-in than with the actual instrument), but at least one or two reactors on this video were like "is that really him playing it?"/"who's playing the harmonica on this cover?" It's all Geoff! 😁

Jeoph's face right after Daryl hits a very solid F#1 in chest, literally the epitome of "huh, not bad" 😆

Obligatory comment of "hhhhh he's so pretty"

(Also gotta love the fact that neither Geoff nor any of the Backup Geoffs have any fewer than 2-3 top buttons undone. Full respect 😝👌)

Another point of difference to look out for in this video: all four of them move their hands differently when singing/harmonising! Most noticeable between Geoff and Geoph. Daryl, meanwhile, keeps his hands pretty still in comparison, mostly either standing with his arms folded, or with his hands half in his pockets like in the shot above.

"If they free me from this prison..."

(Nobody points out/seems to notice Daryl in this bit, which imo is a darn shame, so I'm making up for it!)

Bonus Geoff Clones up top in the background! (They're multiplying!!!!)

Now come on, that's just showing off! 😂 (Also if go back and rewatch this and pay attention to the background, you'll see that the background Geoff Clone on the far left starts clapping! 😁)

Massive kudos to both Geoff and Kathy for this video - other than Ed Boyer (who does the audio mixing for both Voiceplay and Geoff's solo stuff), this cover and video was purely a Castellucci production! Kathy was production manager as always (and she is for Voiceplay as well), and she and Geoff collaborated on "creative/visuals" (quoting the credits in the description, and the rest was all Geoff! The arrangement, the producing, the filming, the performing, (the harmonica playing!), and the editing! All him! He does a lot of this stuff himself for his other solo videos too, but this one is very brilliant, even without knowing how much of an independent creation it was!

[aworldforastage]

2023 Q1 Reading Recap

Writing up my thoughts on these 10 danmei titles (out of 15) that I read in the first three months of 2023.

相见欢/Joyful Reunion

天官赐福/Heaven Official’s Blessing

督主有病/Governor’s Illness

日落大道 /Sunset Boulevard

我成了虐文女主她亲哥/I Became the Older Brother of the Heroine in an Abusive Novel

魔尊他念念不忘/The Demon Venerable’s Wistful Desire

唇齿之戏/The Plays of Lips and Teeth

粉黛/Concealed and Blended: Fendai

妃嫔媵嫱/Fei Ping Ying Qiang

铜雀春深/Tong Que Chun Shen

(audiodrama cover art for Joyful Reunion, Governor's Illness, Sunset Boulevard)

I don't have a good reason for the cheesy song lyrics except that my mind was very preoccupied by Taylor Swift songs when I was writing this up ….

Famous titles: "I got a list of names, and yours is in red, underlined"

I finally got to four widely-recommended titles that has been sitting in my personal to-read-list for nearly a year. And honestly? Yeah, I think they are worth the hype.

相见欢/Joyful Reunion -- In a crumbling empire plagued by foreign threats and an impending succession crisis, young Duan Ling learns that he is the crown prince who needs to take on the burden of saving his nation. He eventually meets a love interest who gives him the exact type of warmth, strength, and security that he needs on this journey. Joyful Reunion stands out to me for a supporting cast that act like people who want to live and thrive in their society, not characters rounding out someone else's story. There are no chess masters who can see three steps ahead or control the entire board, but each party moving their own pieces end up creating a Gordian knot for the protagonist anyways. On top of all this, Duan Ling still manages a very satisfying coming-of-age arc.

天官赐福/Heaven Official’s Blessing -- No introduction needed of course. I'm not the biggest fan of Hualian, but MXTX, as usual, wins me over with a universe full of people, relationship dynamics, and themes that can stand up to dissection under a microscope: there is just SO MUCH going on. To me, TGCF is a story about power, self-concept (including moral values), love, and the sacrifices people make for them. It's very similar to MDZS in that it exposes systemic flaws in the world and society that remain (mostly) immutable, but still gives individual characters (mostly) happy endings, and arguably at the character-level it's a bit happier than MDZS … I think?

督主有病/Governor’s Illness -- On his first trip off the mountain at twelve, Xiahou Lian saves a young master around his own age from assassination and learns what it means to be born and raised in Qielan, a mysterious assassin organization. Everyone he knows is meant to eventually die for Qielan, but that little young master, the titular future Governor, gives him hope and faith in the potential of life. I have never met two characters who like each other so much who are so bad at getting together. This feels like an old-school wuxia story about sects, secrets, honor, and growth, but it's also a brutal deconstruction that highlights the dark side of this way of life, and the practical and psychological cost of wielding the power to kill.

日落大道 /Sunset Boulevard -- Zhang Jue breaks Chen Boqiao out of prison when the latter is framed for a crime. Chen Boqiao barely remembers them having attended the same high school, but Zhang Jue has been secretly in love with him for a decade. Ka Bi Qiu's writing style is smooth like fine silk; it elicits vivid imagery and emotions with deceptively simple language. I think its one relative weakness is that the plot feels very thin aside from the relationship arc, but its only around 160K words long and the relationship arc has earned a reputation as one of the most well-known "insecure one-sided secret pining" stories in all of danmei.

(audiodrama cover for I Became the Older Brother of the Heroine in an Abusive Novel, The Demon Venerable’s Wistful Desire)

Rebirth and Transmigration: "I think I've seen this film before and I didn't like the ending"

I read four novels in this category, though the two I really like at the moment are straight-forward novel transmigration stories -- kinder treatment from a transmigrated "canon fodder" turns scary "boss" character into a puppy-like love interest.

我成了虐文女主她亲哥/I Became the Older Brother of the Heroine in an Abusive Novel -- Cannon fodder in palace intrigue novel tries to change his family's ending by befriending the "villain", who decides he'd like to be more than friends. It's soft and fluffy because the love interest never gets close to his supposed darker persona after the protagonists' intervention. I really enjoyed the part with them temporarily living in the palace as teenager, a very heartwarming process of kindness begetting kindness. The "hidden main plot" in the story is also very engaging.

魔尊他念念不忘/The Demon Venerable’s Wistful Desire -- Teen transmigrator ends up in the body of the boss's canon fodder nemesis in a Xianxia novel, and becomes very committed to avoiding or being nice to the future Demon Venerable. The original novel plot completely veers off track because the (future) Demon Venerable is now only interested in find his missing cultivation partner and dual-cultivating with him. There is a subplot about the hypocrisy of the so-called righteous sects, but this story is mostly a feel-good romantic comedy in the xianxia setting.

P. S. Is there some unwritten rule that novels in this genre must have very long titles???

(audiodrama cover art for The Plays of Lips and Teeth, and Concealed and Blended: Fendai)

Pleasant surprises: variations on familiar themes

Entertainment/celebrities: "The camera flashes make it look like a dream"

This genre often makes us think of idols, musicians, and actors, often A-lister who are secure in their fame and talent. This quarter I read two different takes with this setting:

唇齿之戏/The Plays of Lips and Teeth actually tracks very similar to other celebrity stories, in which the fame and talent of the main characters are never challenged. However, focusing on more specialized careers like that of a host/producer and a comedian/xiangsheng performer is a refreshing change; needing to worry about things like bosses and management makes their careers feel a bit more down-to-earth.

粉黛/Concealed and Blended: Fendai explores the intersection of artistry, identity, sexuality, and fame, also through a story about atypical individuals in the industry: a "cross-dressing" celebrity makeup artist and professional gamer-turned-actor. Both main characters are uncertain about their purpose and the personas they put on to stay in the industry, and it's a story about their personal growth as well as professional achievement.

Concubines and consorts: "But it dies, and it dies, and it dies a million little times"

The concubines, aka non-official spouses, are among the most widely vilified demographics in cnovels, even though they are often the most powerless people in that dynamic. They are given the spotlight in two HE stories I found this quarter. (Warning: the "husband" in both stories are intimate with other members of his harem.)

妃嫔媵嫱/Fei Ping Ying Qiang tries to do a realistic take on the male concubine, who needs to clear significant personal and political hurdles to stand next to his prince. The concubines, male and female, do not enter their marriages intending to become manipulative usurpers of the wife's affection, in a narrative that shows it's only human that they hope to have affection in their family and survive this life with dignity.

铜雀春深/Tong Que Chun Shen makes a protagonist out someone who would usually be a failed romantic rival. Contrasted with the reserved and stubborn foreign prince, its the character who does not guard his sexuality, who leans into his partner's expectations, and who does not come from noble origins or have the political capital to fully assert himself, who finally gets to have his feelings and dignity put in the spotlight.

[namube]

lime ent. audition tape; ref. namu's bedroom. namu records his audition tape for lime entertainment, showcasing vocals. he does a cover of iu's/nana's through the night. word count, #1,002.

it's a song that namu already knows, one that sits on one of his playlists; one of the ones that are filled with many ballads, the ones he liked to listen to when he really felt like he needed to relax. it's a song that he's practiced a few times before, but he didn't really full on practice it until he saw the lime entertainment audition get posted online. truth be told, he was incredibly excited by it and knew that it would be one of his chances to do try and get signed; to try to chase his dreams. plus, some of his all-time favorite idol groups are underneath lime entertainment, such as cherish and lightspeed. though, obviously, his all-time favorite is cherish, after all. he used to have an entire forum account dedicated to cherish, where he got to talk about how much he likes their songs and what their songs really meant to him when he was younger. he was almost jittery in a sense with excitement as he thought about the entire possibility. but, he shakes it off, simply because it was time to get serious.

namu had set up in his bedroom, the place where he had always filmed youtube videos for his channel, namu's song forest, whenever he would have the inspiration for covering a song. he gets the camera all set-up, making sure to set up his microphone, and everything of that nature. he tidies up just a bit, though not much really needs to be done, simply due to the fact that namu was always the type to keep his area nice and clean; he could never quite do things in an area that was dirty, so he was simply cleaning pretty often. nonetheless, he grabs everything he needs, makes sure that he's in something nice enough - which kind of just meant one of the many oversized sweaters that are too big for him that looks like they're straight of the 2000s; a style that he seemed to quite like. he fixes himself just a bit, before getting in front of the camera.

he tests the sound for a few moments with the headphones upon his head and when it was all good, namu had reached over to press record on the camera. it felt different from recording for his youtube videos, considering the fact that he was recording an audition instead. he almost felt nervous, but namu was never nervous about auditioning or singing. he mentally shook it off with that usual big smile upon his lips. "hello!" he said, giggling softly before bowing towards the camera. "i'm park namu and i'm nineteen years old, i'll be twenty this december!" he says, his smile growing a bit wider. "in the world of k-pop, i have always looked up to cherish and admired them the most! their music has always meant a lot to me and always could bring me back up after a bad day. i've always really liked their style and i look up to them a lot vocally! i think cherish is really, really cool. i've seen them in concert a lot and they're the reason i want to become a k-pop idol myself! i hope i can follow in cherish-sunbaes footsteps and make them proud in the future as well!" he says, his smile growing a bit more as he giggled softly.

"i've always looked up to nana-sunbae too in her solo career! she's made a lot of really good songs, especially ballads, that i've really loved to sing over my course of being vocally trained since i was young! i've always picked her songs, ever since she came out as a soloist, to learn over time," he says, his smile growing a bit more. "which is why, today i have decided to sing through the night for you!" he says, another soft chuckle leaving his lips. namu had situated the song to sound excellent for himself and to fit the time criteria. which meant he needed to get moving, and so namu did; he starts playing the song itself.

he carries it through beautifully, making sure to hold the notes in that way that he needs to. he sings a lot of the song with his eyes closed, almost adding to the element of the song itself, the emotion that sits behind through the night. a little added high note, just to show off his beastly vocals, his vocal power. but, most of it was... well, to put it simply, beautiful and pretty because namu is really good at emotions. he can do the sad really well and he can do the happy really well, though right now, he was really showcasing the sad type of emotion in some way, the love that's there. he had really wanted to showcase his beautiful voice and he thinks he picked the perfect song for it. plus, it went along with the question of who he looks up to and everything like that - so, it ended up being perfect. he just hopes that those watching at lime entertainment thinks so too. he finishes in the allotted time, chuckling happily when he finished.

"thank you for your time and thank you for your consideration for my audition tape! i look forward to hearing back from you!" he said, before bowing towards the camera again, and turning it off. maybe namu was a little too formal, but it was fine, nonetheless. he opens up his laptop on his bed, plugging in his camera to get the footage, and looking it over. he's happy with it, so he edits the video to start it after he turned the camera on and to end at the end of his bow. the timing was perfect, so he was happy, and he moved to upload it. he really does look forward to hearing back and he wonders if this was going to be his chance to start chasing his dreams.

he's really crossing his fingers here and hoping.

[harryswatermelonsegment]

Pool Party

Pairing: Reader/Harry Styles

Rating: R, text book smut

Word Count: 5k 😳

Warnings: Slight sub/dom tones I guess? & alcohol consumption

A/N: Sorry this is late, life somewhat resuming here in the UK so it means I’m back at my job. I managed to fall asleep mid edit folks 😳, this is my entry for the @helladirections Summer Feeling Fic Challenge, with the prompt “pool party” click the link for the masterlist. I’m still writing two more, one for @berrynarrybanana ‘s Sex Bucketlist Challenge but it’s turning out to be a 20k slow burn I wasn’t expecting 😬.Oops. But enjoy this one, I’m proud of her. My one other blatant thirst fic can be found here. Reblogs get free gratitude for the next 5 years 🍉💕

You'd been friends with Jeff since your teens, when his parents (despite their wealth), wanted him to get a job at the restaurant you worked at. In their rightful thinking, they wanted him to learn you had to work from the ground up.

Despite your clearly different class background you found a ton of common interests making the whole thing immaterial. He was a caring, down to earth guy and you were both people who really enjoyed sarcastically taunting each other every shift. You'd got used to visiting his house in the hills even though you'd been scared to get lost at first around his parents large house. Becoming solid friends quickly, you'd managed to keep in touch, as much as adult life would now allow anyway.

You knew his main role was managing a pop star but you'd not caught up in a minute and when you did, you kept your job chat out of the conversation where you could. This is why, as you barge through the kitchen, to the pool outside, you're shocked to nearly knock a stunned Harry Styles onto his behind.

"Fuck, shit I'm so sorry" you clutch your chest looking at the red wine on his tank top and his now empty glass. The soiled garment was tucked into some dressy shorts and partly covered by a loud hawaiian patterned shirt. Oh god what had you done?

You were quite honestly mortified. You'd never actually met the man himself, usually meeting Jeff at his for a few drinks or at a restaurant. You'd heard him mentioned in stories about travelling or how his campaigns were running Jeff into the ground with meetings. So, although you weren't a massive fan of his per se, in the way you didn't ask Jeff for updates or info, the way you'd hope you'd meet the attractive pop star was definitely not this.

He looked down at the offending stain then back up into your eyes, keeping his head angled down and blinking through his lashes. You couldn't read his blank expression and it put you on edge.

Maybe it was the heat trapped in the doorway, but as your eyes stayed locked you suddenly felt a fire spread from your navel up to your cheeks, and then from your center down to your toes. Your lower stomach clenched as you stared back at the guy covered in a good 2007 French rouge.

Fuck me he's pretty, you thought.

A rapid film reel of moments; sweaty bodies, those large biceps holding you against the nearest wall, smacking of lips against skin and moans of release flashed in your brain.

It had definitely been a while since you had got laid in your defense, your mood and pent up sexual frustration getting worse by the day as you tried and failed at the L. A. dating scene. Maybe you were picky, but horny and picky was an awful place to be.

However, the reality of the embarrassing scene you were currently a star of, flipped you back into the present.

Seemingly over the initial incident and hopefully not a mind reader to your thirsty brain, he takes you in and smirks.

Harry knew from the way your breathing hitched looking at his torso that you were at least a bit interested. He had clocked you the second you walked in through the big glass doors. A shirt of a band he liked and a natural beauty he wanted to spend some times with you he pondered. Ideally naked.

Zig zagging across the world promoting the album and had left little time to enjoy another person. Status and obligation to his job making it hard to just go out and meet someone. But here you were, dressed unlike anyone else, looking absolutely adorable in your embarrassment. You must be trustworthy if you're in Jeff's home,he wasn't a "bring your friends too" kind of host with his clients usually around.

This could be a fun evening for you both, he thought. Something unspoken, almost magnetic, drawing you both to one another. Surely that wasn't all his side right?

"I was told it was a good year, but I wasn't planning on consuming it quite this way?" inwardly he rolled his eyes at the barely there quip. But you laughed anyway.

"I am so, so awfully sorry, look, let's see if there's some dish liquid or something, possibly some of my next months rent in there too if I have to replace it" you let out a nervous laugh as you walked towards the kitchen. But in all honesty you weren't kidding.

Harry laughed at your sarcastic remark, impressed by your confidence in owning the situation and getting on with things. He casually watched your hips sway past a few people in to the open plan kitchen with as much subtlety as he could, you were confidentially locating all the parts needed to try and remove the offending stain.

"You seem to know your way around 'ere. I'm er…I'm Harry by the way" awkwardly waving as you mixed some solution in the sink drenching a sponge in it.

"Yeah" you smiled turning from the sink with the damp rag "known Jeff a good while, have definitely spilt red wine here before. I'm Y/N" you giggle. The beam from his own mouth matching.

"Ah! Y/N, of course, I've heard him mention you, didn't you once hide rotting mackerel in a unpleasant guys blazer?" he chuckled

"Heyyyy. Only after he spanked my ass getting him the check. Deserved a hot plate to the crotch too" you shot back.

You weren't sure where to go from here the thought of wetting down the white tank yourself definitely appealed but also seemed far too forward.

"Um…" you began gesturing with the sponge in your hand. You expected him to take it from you to sort himself out but..

"Oh yeah sorry" he replied shimmying his shirt off, dumping it on the back of a bar stool, then, crossing his arms across his stomach and lifting the tank top over his head you were slack jawed and frozen taking in the lean muscles and tattoos littered intermittently across his abdomen. He spread the top across the islands worktop flat, then grabbing the sponge with a simple "thanks" and knitting his eyebrows together in concentration as he tried to rid the dull red mark from it's center.

You still hadn't moved. A pink twinge to your cheeks as you watched his shoulder blades and back muscles scrubbing. Dirty thoughts circling your brain still.

"I would have helped you but I didn't want to start a wet tshirt contest in such a high end establishment yknow?" you thought out loud.

"Oh yeah, good call. I'm fiercely competitive Y/N so would probably be under that fancy waterfall thing by now showing off m'moves in my pants" he wiggles his hips trying to suggestively show you his "moves" but you can't help but smirk at just how endearing this man is. Dammit.

When he's finished with his shirt he drapes it over another barstool before handing you the sponge back.

If anyone asks him if he blatantly and deliberately got naked to gauge if you were into him he'd definitely deny it. But the truth is, he definitely did. Luckily for him, with the way you bite your lip and drag your eyes down his flesh as he brushes past your side to get back to the sink, he's right.

"Speaking of getting in the water in your" you use air quotes "'pants' I'm off to get out of mine" you declare, pushing yourself from the counter and keeping eye contact a second as you stroll back to the sliding doors leading to the pool.

"I… What??"

" The pool Harry?.... What did you think I meant?" you narrow your eyes and press your lips together before shutting the glass door again and turning once more to smirk at the opened mouthed man still by the sink.

--------------------------------

You'd been schmoozing in the water for a few hours now. There were probably only 20 or so people still here and the 3rd frozen marg had got you buzzed. You were in the small hot tub type pool, attached at the top of the main one on a slightly higher level. You hadn't seen Harry for a while but the last few times you caught his eye he'd been surrounded by at least 3 other people fighting for his attention, so you banked your flirtations to soothe your own ego, grabbed another marg and tried to forget about how he had started a tornado inside you, yearning for his hands on your thighs and head peering up at you from where they met in the middle. The strong pull of lust was clearly in your head then. What a shame.

You put it to the back of your mind as you finished catching up with Glenne. Both flushed and giggly as usual, she was the perfect match for Jeff and their chemistry unmatchable. You always enjoyed hanging out with the both of them, if anything, they gave you hope your own match may be out there. She left you in the tub alone, as she went to grab herself another drink and check on her host duties boyfriend.

"Don't you find drinking whilst already in water the weirdest thing?" you look up to find Harry standing over your right shoulder as you sit with your back against the pool wall and your elbows propping you up behind you, drink in one hand. His eyes unsubtley slip down to where your breasts lay pushed together in your halter neck bikini. You definitely weren't imagining it then. Fucking fantastic, you think.

"I mean drowning yourself on the inside from the alcohol and being in more than 4 inches of water really adds a danger element to my life if I'm honest" you reply sipping your drink.

And there goes those dimples again.

He's just in a pair of yellow swimming shorts now which doesn't help the alcohol flush at all. Sitting by your right side, putting his short glass full of amber liquid and ice, on the side of the pool and sliding in to join you. He leaves a small gap, as to not appear a total letch but your smart mouth has him hooked.

Taking a sip of his drink with the water up to his collar bones he hums.

"I do feel incredibly dangerous now, you've got a point"

"I mean if you think that's danger" you edge closer, not drunk but buzzed enough to take your chances you whisper into the shell of his ear. "You should see what thrills are in the guest bathroom. 1st floor on the right? " he chokes on his drink as your suggestive whispers make his dick twitch. He definitely couldn't get out of the pool for a while.

You're gone before you get a verbal reaction. If this all goes badly then you can just hide in there and slip out to an Uber and never see Jeff again right? Right. Cool.

With a soft white towel around you and your heart rate high as you reach the main guest bedroom you enter the room, you notice a large weekend bag in there and freeze. Shit. Someone's staying over, you hadn't factored that in, but a glance to the tag and the embossed H. E. S tells you you're good. Well, if not you'll just be a creep hiding in someone's bathroom but let's not think about it too much. Your faux confidence was working well so far and what other chance was going to arise like this one? Hot celebrities need fun with strangers too right?

Entering the bathroom you rub the towel over you, leaving mostly dry skin. You'd peel away your bikini if you were definite you wouldn't need to peel it back up your limbs should this plan backfire. You move to the mirror to adjust the black flecks from your minimal makeup dispersing under your eye and just as you're about to smooth down the stray baby hairs that humidity has got to around your face, you see Harry appear in the mirror behind you. Your belly flipping over and over with the thrill he'd took the bait.

Wasting no time he smirks and holds your gaze, wrapping his hands around your waist whilst his lips attach to the junction of your neck and collarbone. His tongue drags over your soft skin and he licks and softly sucks swirls onto it with his plush lips.

"Hm. You're right. This is a more fun type of danger" he says between kisses but before he's even finished his sentence you've spun around in his arms.

The bottom of your spine cold against the marble countertop, arms around his neck as you smash your lips into one another's with urgency. Tongues and wet noises as you get to know one another through your bodies alone.

He runs his hands down your back and presses his hard length against your thigh. He's definitely packing you think as you lift up a little rub your pubic bone against his front, panting out a little moan as the sweet friction of your bodies colliding sends you into overdrive. Catching the noise through your parted lips he gently tugs on the bottom one, teeth grazing the supple flesh. This combined with his large palms kneading your ass and pulling you further, tighter, into the roll of his hips. Only two layers of damp clothing separate you,forcing your lips to break from his mouth and fully moan, not caring who may be around. You could not remember the last time a perfect stranger knew your body quite this well.

His own grunts were speeding up when he suddenly grabs the back of your thighs and hoists you up beside the sink, you gasp in shock but it was more the way the lean man thrusted you up there like it was nothing. What else could he do? You expect him to go back to kissing you but instead he pulls back with his rock hard erection outlined in the wet shorts he still has on. Looking at you dead in the eyes both raging with lust and concern. Whilst you try not to worry how you were going to accommodate him inside your tight walls.

"Is this…? I mean, you want this too right?" his hands are resting at either side of your parted thighs. You nod. "Need you to say it Y/N" he steps forward, lips wet and brushes the pad of his thumb across your bottom lip that was now puffy and pink from the earlier biting. He knew you were down to fuck, but now he wanted to test your preferences. What kind of fun you were about to have shall we say. So when you lick his thumb tip, holding his fist still and grazing your wet tongue up and down from knuckle to tip before closing your eyes and humming around the entire digit, he knew you were both in for a good time.

Removing the thumb he whispers a barely audible "fuck me" before smashing your lips back together, tongues massaging together as he peels your underwear to the side with his hand swiftly and presses digit you'd lubricated with your mouth against your clit, moving it fast from side to side with just the right amount of pressure to make your head spin. Gasping, you throw your head back, hands clasped around his neck as you lean back and feel yourself start to leak a little with arousal. The few spots dripping down on to the counter.

You could say it had been a while but really this guy was moving his way round your body in the same way you tune a guitar in key. Calloused fingers applying the right amount of pressure as you felt yourself start to get to the edge already. He was kissing down the front if your chest, between your breasts, not missing a beat when he pushed both triangles of your bikini aside and you moaned loudly as he kissed and sucked hard around your nipple, tentatively pulling it between his teeth firmly, the sound you let out made him clamp a little harder before sucking in the whole nipple again, soothing the skin his tongue. Most likely leaving a mark behind, but you kind of liked the idea of proof he'd been devouring you in all honesty.

You were becoming blissed out from all the stimulation. Clenching and moving your hips around nothing but this magical thumb working your clit up and down hard. You were overcome with this whole situation playing out the way it had. You broke away from his mouth again.

"Oh fuck.. Harry, I'm… FuckFuck I'm going to come, I'm gonna fucking… Ahhh" he pulled back one arm steadying you as your head hit the mirror behind you in your release. He just watched you and slowed his thumb down watching as the liquid cascaded onto the counter.

After you'd come down you open your eyes and shyly smiled before kissing him passionately, his hands moving around your waist tightly. You moved your hand to his shorts, teasingly grazing the outline of his cock between your fingers in hopes of repaying the favour. He does a single throaty laugh and removes your hand, holding himself against his thigh. You look at him in confusion when he splutters,

"Sorry, sorry its just I'm going t'blow my load if you touch me." then he's back on your lips "Too. Fucking. Sexy" he says between wet kisses to your jaw, neck and clavicle. "Wanted to do this since I first set eyes on you" one hand is on the back of his neck twisting nape curls between your fist whilst the other rests behind you, stopping you from hitting your head on the mirror again.

"Oh yeah? Before or after I ruined your clothes?" you laugh teasingly as he slides his hands around your back to finally remove the bikini top properly, lifting it up over your head and tossing it aside somewhere on the floor. He let's a laugh out himself completely entranced still by how natural you are around him, it was often hard to connect with strangers in his position.

"I'd spotted you walking in, was trying to open the door for you m'love" he says before sucking a red mark into your breast and massaging and pulling the other nipple slightly with his hand.

You struggle through sharp intakes of breath for a reply.

"Well….ah...that's what chivalry.. Oh.. Get's you these days I guess" and you're both laughing a little.

"Hmm. Have to try harder with my manners then won't I? I mean, I've got to clear up the mess I've made here" he cups his hand against your pussy rubbing it up and down a little with his palm. You let out a guttural noise at the friction. "Ladies first and all'tha too right?" he giggles again at himself.

You're practically cumming right then, you couldn't remember the last time someone actually went down on you. Your previous boyfriend not particularly into offering you foreplay. A main point of why he didn't stick around too long.

Harry kisses down your abdomen now, soft sloppy, sensual pecks, humming into your skin every so often in appreciation as he works at removing your soaked bikini bottoms with his hands, pushing them down to your knees before you help, letting them fall from the remaining ankle to the ground.

Harry is moving far too slow for you, kissing across each hip down to the top of your slit, breathing over where you desperately need him before paying the other side the same attention. Then he's licking up each crease where your thigh meets your pelvis.

"Y/N, just.. Just turn, that's it and lean back as far as you can there, shuffle forward until can't balance anymore" you shift your ass as forward as possible on the lip of the sink and prop yourself up on your elbows trying to be as flat as possible on the cold counter as you could, your toes behind the sink with one foot the other dangling over the edge. You keep you thighs open as Harry hunches over the counter where you now lay diagonal. He places his arms under your thighs and bends your legs flat out as he can stretch you, you're expecting some more teasing but he just looks down at your pussy licking over his lips and almost whining before burying his tongue inside you immediately. The force of his tongue lapping up your previous climax causes you once again to knock the side of your head against the mirrored wall. You turn and watch the scene almost as a spectator, witnessing yourself bare to this beautiful man, curly brown hair between your fists and making sounds like he's savouring every taste. He catches you watching before taking his mouth off you, immediately, you're whining in protest.

"Watch my eyes not my reflection baby, I'm right here"

His authoritative tone eclipsing every thought you had about the casual nickname, you stared down at the wonderful site of him lapping and suckling on your clit. Pointed tongue and firm laps against the swollen button. He then starts lapping up at your glistening hole,unhooking an arm to spread your lips open between his fingers and licking right from the bottom to the top with all the sloppy wet noises involved. He was feeling you contract as he locked faster and faster over you. His tongue deserved an award never mind his music. You couldn't believe you were on the brink of a second orgasm so quickly but when he sunk his middle finger into you at the same pace his tongue was working at, you were screaming his name into the extractor fan above before you knew it. You felt waves of liquid cascade from your pussy as he gently lapped up the produce of his work from you. You flinched in overstimulation but he cleaned up every last drop tenderly before carefully closing your legs and pivoting you round to your previous sitting up position on the counter. Neither of you had spoken a word since you came but as he leads your arms to drape over your shoulders, holding your fucked out body against his chest whilst peppering your temple with soft pecks . Then he kisses you intensely, letting you taste the sweet juices of yourself on his lips. You hummed in approval of the sweet taste as you came round.

A few minutes of carnal making out and things were heating up again. Your hands cupping his jaw then sliding to graze fingernails up and down his back, digging them in a little harder now and again and causing goosebumps to pierce through the skin rapidly under your touch.

You could feel him swallowing down grunts from the friction he was getting from his shorts covered cock brushing up and down between your slick folds.

He'd made you cum twice. Hard. He always got off of making his partners cum of course, so he was feeling beyond turned on and the slight heat of your glistening folds against his length was almostvsending him over the edge.

"I want you inside me" you whispered against his lips desperately.

No sooner had you said the words, his left hand was frantically searching through the vanities top drawer in hope. Finding a packet, checking the date quickly then tearing it between his teeth, spitting the seal onto the floor and pushing his shorts to his ankles, stepping out of them at speed before kicking them away.

He smirked when he caught your eyes bulge at his cock. He knew it was above average but the reaction was always a further compliment he thought.

Stepping forward he put on a show of putting the condom on, first rubbing the drops of sticky pre cum at the head and down his length keeping his eyes locked to yours as you wriggled on the counter with anticipation. He whined a little as it squeezed him rolling it on, so red and over sensitive from turning you on. So that's why, when you grabbed for it, he stilled your hand. Dimples appearing back in his cheeks as you looked again in confusion. He kisses you, languishing the moment before grabbing you forward from the countertop to the floor again, still keeping your lips attached. He lightly grips at your hips and turns you round to face the mirror once more.

Harry lightly grabs your throat, and the way you whimper and push your ass back against him, makes him mentally bank that idea for later perhaps. He runs his left hand up the column of your neck lightly holding your jaw between his thumb and forefinger, forcing you to look at him with his hand on your face and the other already working up and down your folds.

"I want you to watch us. Want you to watch yourself come apart. Want to watch you cum around my cock yeah? " he whispers in your ear. You noticeably shiver with excitement of what's to come.

"Please Harry, please, need it, need you."

You watch yourself babble and beg for his cock. The pathetic whimper from yourself as you try and circle your ass into his crotch again to encourage it happening. You were never patient and he's driving you insane here.

Bringing two fingers infront of your lips as you watch yourself in the mirror he looks you dead in the eye through the reflection.

"Spit" so you do, "good girl" he says kissing your cheek. His saliva lubed fingers are back rubbing your clit quickly whilst his knee nudges the back of yours to spread your feet wider as he kisses the back of your neck and shoulders. When he pauses next you're not expecting the hard thrust of him entering you entirely, sure you were dripping wet with the result of two orgasms but you cry out in a mix of stretch and pleasure as he pounds into you at a furious pace. His spare hand not on your clit is holding the bottom of your spine down as he keeps up his rhythm. His pace was that of a man desperate for release after watching you fall apart on his fingers and tongue. The build up meant he was already close as you tight walls fluttered around him. He pleads with you to stop tightening your walls around him or he's not going to last he whimpers.

You were already close again, you'd never cum this many times or this quickly in your life but you were ready for another round and by the sounds of him and the stutter his pace kept slipping you knew he was close too.

You quickly removed his hand, sucking your own fingers into your mouth to replace his own at your clit.

"M'gonna cum, but… OhOh fuck.. But need you harder. Deeper" you manage to get out.

He grunts a curse before squeezing your hips at a pressure that will leave marks tomorrow but the delight in the speed he was now able to snap his hips against the swells of your ass, was well worth it. It only took a few more seconds with the fingers that knew you best, for you to gush against his cock. Feeling absolutely exhausted you slump your sweaty chest onto the cold counter.

His orgasm taking him by surprise when you clenched up to milk him dry. He all but shouts your name as his hips stutter and you feel the warmth of his cum fill the one barrier between you.

His lips were back on your sweaty neck for a second whilst he disposed of the used condom. He ran the walk in shower and wordlessly you took his offered hand to join him under the hot spray. You'd never had an encounter end like this before not that you were a seasoned professional but after 3 orgasms the way his hands moved round your body under the water, washing away your antics with sweet strawberry-banana smelling suds on the flannel, left you with a warm floaty feeling the worn off alcohol never had.

He gently wipes your makeup from under your eyes then, smiling at the cute way your nose wrinkles slightly as he rubs at each eyebrow.

"I don't even have words" you finally laugh out blushing, not able to stand his gauge as you say it.

"Oh. So that's how to make that smart mouth o'yours stop is it? " he grins, you gasp in mock offense and go to say something but going under your chin with his thumb with his forefinger to connect your lips under the warm water spray he kisses you when you pull away you can't help but ask.

"So does this make us even on one ruined fancy vest then?"

"Hmmmm" he ponders with both hands on your face looking at the ceiling out if the falling water. " I'm not sure, I mean it was a custom, pretty high going rate those yeah"

"Yeahhhh you're right, you're right. Better factor in the cost of the custom job then hadn't I huh?"

You hurriedly sink to your knees on the tiled floor.

[delightfullysubatomic]

All Bar Luke doesn’t get the hype it deserves!! It’s such a fleshed out and deeply told story for something that is entirely monologue up until the final phone call. Tim’s insanely good at writing!! I feel like that’s finally being recognised with Wife and Mulberry and the mini script conversations in those two books but I still feel he’s worth more writing home about...

I agree! 

I'd forgotten about the final phone call, such a good way to end it. I find it so interesting that ABL was his first real solo thing too, you'd think it would have led him to more writing but I guess his poet persona / live work took off right when it was coming to an end (it's weird to me that Screenwipe was at the same time as series 2 or 3 of it, but I suppose the early eps of Screenwipe had a different persona too).

It seems like really random bits of his article writing go widespread e.g. that tribute he did for Paul Ritter went all over twitter and I remember a thing he wrote about The Ashes too.

I always like written interviews where it's clearly been done by email too because his answers end up being really good little paragraphs, like this one.

I've heard him say he doesn't think he could write a novel and I assume that's because he'd find it hard to plot out because his prose / writing style is better than most stand up comedians, whose writing is usually quite irritating including some of his friends. I mean there's a reason him reading out little bits of his writing on stage works.

Reading between the lines, I think he's probably written pilots for TV / tried to get film scripts going, but hasn't got anywhere.

Wonderdate might have done something for him, it got nominated for a BAFTA but that was, what, 2018? Although I guess sometimes life gets in the way.

I do agree it's sort of getting recognised with HUTAAF / Mulberry but the number of interviews that just mention the cover or how small the text is is ridiculous (I'm still pressed at you Mr Herring). Is it so hard to read three or four pages before interviewing someone???!!! This was very cool from the New Statesman, it's sort of a promo article but is so gushing that I assume it's the interviewer's actual feelings. I also feel like all of Tim's stuff has a thread of loneliness running through it and his stuff in the last couple of years has sort of been the perfect outlet to express that but I haven't really heard that sentiment in reviews so maybe I'm projecting. The only thing I wish he'd done in the books is add a timeline of the poems at the end (or dated them). Lots of them are about the specific events of each day and in a couple of years time it will be hard to remember what was what (already is tbh).

Also, Tim's version of promo seems to be twitter / Instagram / his website / doing interviews and podcasts on the shows of his comedian friends, all of who will have extreme crossover in audience, and sometimes he doesn't even mention the book (plus he goes on Sunday Brunch which every comedian seems to do and I'd love to know if that works for anyone at all). I love that he uses Utter and Press - I mean obviously it's a big part of the whole thing - and I guess he's essentially making the publicity up himself (with the help of his agency), where authors would often have the publishing house doing a lot of that work. Plus it sounds like they never even necessarily had plans to get into the shops at first so it's probs been a lot more successful that him and Emily ever planned, so forget all that and support indie publishing.

Ps. lovely punning. Also, this was not supposed to be this long. I guess my brain went off in five different directions so I just stuck them all in.

[chaos-writes]

The Lost Boys: Road Trip

Based on one of the most vivid dreams I've ever had. Word count: 2,255. Implied romance with the boys and Star. Tw: none.

“I’ve always wanted to travel and go sight-seeing without any real objective, like moving,” said Lucy, in a dream-like tone. I chimed in, “I’ve had a cross-country road trip planned out for quite a while, but I’ve never had anyone to do it with.” “Oh really?” Lucy asked, “Where to?” “Well, it’ll be a round trip with touring both going and coming back. I'm hoping to go through Nevada, Utah, Colorado, Kansas, Missouri, Kentucky, then we’ll go north, through Ohio, and Michigan, then come back home through Wisconsin, Minnesota, North Dakota, Montana, Idaho, Oregon, then through the top of California all the way back home.” “Oh my goodness! That sounds like a dream, but also a lot of gas money,” Lucy exclaimed. We laughed.

 

“It really would be, but I have the money saved up in a debit account, so hopefully it'll cover it. There’s also hotels, toll bridges, food, water, all that fun stuff,” I giggled. “But it would be worth it, I have tons of film for my instax camera, and a couple journals to write down my experiences.”

I gestured to her, “I have a couple extras for people that want to tag along,” Lucy smiled but quickly frowned, “Oh, I would love to go, I really would, but I have to work and look after the boys and their grandfather,” she mused. I chimed in, “It doesn't just have to be you, you know, I’ve got quite a few people in mind who could benefit from traveling.” “Well, I'll have to check with my boys and my boss. I’ll let you know if I can or can’t as soon as possible,” lucy said, with a look of disappointment in her eyes. I nodded in understanding and smiled, “Well, whenever you do let me know, I wouldn’t be upset if it was a no. I would be sure to share every detail with you, though.” “Oh, thank you for understanding, it means a lot to me!” “No problem. Well, I guess I'll be on my way then,” I said as I opened the front door.

We said our goodbyes and I headed out on my motorcycle to go and see the boys. It’s getting dark enough out where they should be slowly getting up by now. I wonder if Laddie and Star are there, too. They usually are, but sometimes they’re out and about, since they can handle sunlight a bit better than the rest. I park my bike and I can hear distant yawning and mumbling from where I'm standing at the cave entrance. They all start to float out and stretch one by one, Dwayne being first, Marko being second, David being third, and Paul being last. Of course Paul is last, he’s the heaviest sleeper. This road trip would be nothing to him, if they all agreed, that is. I just have to do some convincing.

Marko slipped his jacket and boots on, and the rest followed suit. They’re all quiet when they first wake, that’s why I don't ‘show up’ until I start hearing conversation and laughing. However, I’ve got to wait for the perfect time to come in, when they’ve been talking for a while and can actually think. “I wonder what Michael’s been doin’” I hear Paul say. “I don’t know Paul,” David sighed. “Maybe he’s been avoiding us…” He paused for a minute, then said, “Anyone hungry yet?” a wave of “not me’s” and “mm-mm’s” spread across the cave. I hear Dwayne grab a torch, light it, and begin lighting the cans all around the cave. The -now illuminated- boys begin bantering about who they should target next and what they plan to do for the day- well, night.

As a result, I put on my big-kid pants and stepped into the cave. They all turned to me, Marko exclaimed, “Hey! There you are!” “Hey guys,” I said, waving. Laddie ran up to me and hugged me from the side. I patted his back and ruffled his hair. Star smiled at me as she greeted me with a wave. I smiled back. Marko and Paul ran to me and squished me in their arms.

“I have something to share with you guys. An idea, really,” I said. All the boys looked at me in curiosity until David spoke up, “Well, what is this… idea of yours?” I beamed at all of them and said, “You all know how much I like going on adventures…” they looked even more puzzled now. “So, how about I take everyone on a really big adventure? A road trip!” They looked contemplative, as if they were considering going or not. “I could go alone…” Paul's and Marko's eyes widened, “But I much prefer having company with me, especially on trips like these.” Dwayne piped up, “So... where would we be going?” I smiled and pulled out a map, “How about I show you guys?”

The boys, Laddie, and Star crowd around behind me as I point around a U.S. map and explain where we’re going and what I'm planning on doing. I point all over the map and across the northern states. "We can add on a couple more destinations if you'd like… this is just more of the baseline plan." "Are we going to any big cities?" Marko asked. "Hell yea! And we're gonna go touring at night and see all the pretty lights and stuff. It'll be so fun!" "I'm down!" Paul says. "Me too!" Dwayne chimed in. "I wanna go!" Laddie exclaimed. Star smiled, and turned to David. The rest of us followed suit. This… is it.

I smiled at David and asked, "So, leader of the pack, are you in?" He paused. We cautiously awaited his answer. Laddie's eyes met David’s as he silently pleaded to go. David finally broke, smiled, and said, "alright. When are we leaving?" The cave uproared in a fit of whooping and hollering, mainly thanks to Marko and Paul, and Star picked Laddie up and twirled him around. "You won't regret this!" I said to David over the noise. "Well, I'm actually looking forward to it." He said. 

We left to go grab a bite to eat, the boys did their thing and I took Laddie and Star to a little Italian place on the boardwalk to eat. I told the boys to meet us there when they were done. “You sure about all this?” Star asked. “Absolutely! I like having an adventure crew. I'll admit though, it's gonna be a little different with a youngin' on board,” I laughed.

After a while, Lucy finally agreed to go with our party and told her boys to look after one another. We all packed our clothes and bought some more for the boys. They needed clothes that were fit for the amount of walking. I also couldn’t let anyone see my boys in blood-stained clothes in public, we’ll look like we got in some freak accident. I rode my motorcycle and directed the boys to my place, where we have a big Volkswagen bus parked out front, fit for a party of eight. Lucy is already there after a phone call telling us she would meet us at my place. We packed our bags into the trunk, all 4 boys could fit their bags into one suitcase with vacuum seal bags, Star and Laddie share a backpack, Lucy has her own suitcase and I have my own backpack. There's a box of toiletries for us all, except for Lucy, who decided on keeping everything of hers separate from the others, which is fair enough. 

It was 9pm, and we made sure everyone went to the bathroom and was all taken care of before we took off. The first drive is twelve-and-a-half hours, from Santa Carla to Salt Lake City, Utah. We toured the entire city on foot for a few hours, and decided on the next driver to take us to our next destination. Before we left Salt Lake, I put all the pictures I took into a scrapbook and wrote down the notes of what happened that day. “Hey, guys? If you want a journal to write anything down about the trip, I have a few extras here! And we can go over everyone’s journals and keep them in a safe space after the trip!” I said, as we all piled into the bus. David, sitting in the same row as me, turned to me and said, “I’d like to document what i’m experiencing. It’s a good idea, considering we’ve got a lot of…time left” he paused. I gave an understanding nod and handed him a journal. Star, from the third row, said, “i’ll take one!” 

We continued across the country and journaled, and took as many pictures as possible. I will never forget how genuinely happy all the boys were, they were so used to the boardwalk and now they get to go places. Laddie would bounce around happily when we toured around on foot. Star and Lucy spent their time quietly admiring land and cityscapes. The boys would get rowdy and restless at night, desperate to get in a fight or two. I've had to intervene more than I want to admit. But overall, they were well-behaved and did great throughout the trip.

The most precious memory to me, though, is when Dwayne, Paul, and Laddie grabbed me to go for a walk. At this point we were in Cincinnati, we checked in a hotel for a couple days, just on the water. A few of us wanted to go walk on the Purple People Bridge before we left. It was getting dark out, so we held close together. We walked across the bridge, Dwayne carried Laddie piggyback style and Paul and I were walking close by. We got down far enough on the bridge that we were close to the water. The sound of the river was calming, less rapid than the water outside the cave. I pointed out all the boats on the water to Laddie and we watched the water and the city in front of us.

What the boys didn't know was there was an event going on in the city. Some sort of charity event, I was never really sure about that part, but what I did know was the boys were really gonna like it.

"Hey, let's stay here for a bit. We're not in a hurry!" I said. "Umm… alright then," Dwayne said. Paul looked at me in confusion, but didn't say anything. Laddie was falling asleep on Dwayne's back, but Dwayne didn't seem to mind.

Soon, lights flicker on, one by one, lighting the whole city in blue. "Look Laddie!" I said while tapping his arm. He hopped off of Dwayne's back and stared at the illuminated city. All of Cincinnati was now an icy blue, and I will never forget the look of wonder in Laddie's eyes. Paul and Dwayne shared the same look as well. We were all starstruck as the night sky before us lit up in a beautiful blue. Paul's smile slowly grew and he giggled. I looked at him with a questioning look.

He turned to me, and said,"Thank you. This is… was, amazing. I don't think you know how much I appreciate you. This…" I smiled and wrapped my arms around his waist. We held each other close as the city behind us twinkled and glowed. Footsteps came alongside us, the rest of the party decided to try and find us. "Looks like you and Paul are having fun," David said. I wasn't even mad at the joke this time. "We really are, why don't you join us?" I asked. David smiled and ran his fingers through my hair. He wrapped his arms around me from behind as I was hugging Paul, so I was sandwiched between them. Marko stood beside us all. David saw and invited him into the middle with me. I turned around and squeezed Marko as the others adjusted.

Laddie was excitedly pointing out every detail to Star, Dwayne and Lucy and bouncing in pure joy. "Laddie seems to be enjoying this the most. I'm so happy I get to show him these beautiful places." I said. "I will never forget the look on his face for as long as I live."

The rest of the trip went smoothly. We stopped in big cities, small towns, natural parks, and got to see part of Canada from the upper peninsula of Michigan. I wrote down two journals' worth of notes and had to buy another scrapbook to fit all the pictures I took. 

Surprisingly, the whole party responded well to the really long drives we did. When we made it home and said our goodbyes to Lucy as she drove to her own home, it was like this weight was lifted off of us as we stepped into the cave. No more stress of travel, a place to stretch your legs, a place to just be... in peace. Laddie hugged me as Dwayne went around and lit the cave up. "Thank you so much," he said. "You're welcome, little dude!" I said. "Yeah, thank you!" Marko and Paul chimed in. Star walked up to me and wrapped her arms around my shoulders. "Thank you for doing all of that for us," she said. "You really didn't have to." "I know, but I love you guys. The least I can do for you is take you on one of my adventures." 

[classic-laugjhing-hollywood]

Margaret Dumont (October 20, 1882 – March 6, 1965) was an American stage and film actress. She is best remembered as the comic foil to the Marx Brothers in seven of their films. Groucho Marx called her "practically the fifth Marx brother".

Dumont was born Daisy Juliette Baker in Brooklyn, New York, the daughter of William and Harriet Anna (née Harvey) Baker. She spent many years of her childhood being raised by her godfather, Joel Chandler Harris at his home, Wren's Nest in Atlanta before returning to New York as a teenager.

Dumont trained as an operatic singer and actress in her teens, and began performing on stage in the U.S. and in Europe, at first under the name Daisy Dumont and later as Margaret (or Marguerite) Dumont. Her theatrical debut was in Sleeping Beauty and the Beast at the Chestnut Theater in Philadelphia, and in August 1902, two months before her 20th birthday, she appeared as a singer/comedian in a vaudeville act in Atlantic City. The dark-haired soubrette, described by a theater reviewer as a "statuesque beauty", attracted notice later that decade for her vocal and comedic talents in The Girl Behind the Counter (1908), The Belle of Brittany (1909) and The Summer Widower (1910).

In 1910, she married millionaire sugar heir and industrialist John Moller Jr. and retired from stage work, although she had a small uncredited role as an aristocrat in a 1917 film adaptation of A Tale of Two Cities. The marriage was childless.

After her husband's sudden death during the 1918 influenza pandemic, Dumont reluctantly returned to the Broadway stage, and soon gained a strong reputation in musical comedies. She never remarried. Her Broadway career included roles in the musical comedies and plays The Fan (1921), Go Easy, Mabel (1922), The Rise of Rosie O'Reilly (1923/24) and The Fourflusher (1925), and she had an uncredited role in the 1923 film Enemies of Women.

In 1925, Dumont came to the attention of theatrical producer Sam H. Harris who recommended her to the Marx Brothers and writer George S. Kaufman for the role of the wealthy dowager Mrs. Potter alongside the Marxes in their Broadway production of The Cocoanuts. In the Marxes' next Broadway show Animal Crackers, which opened in October 1928, Dumont again was cast as foil and straight woman Mrs. Rittenhouse, another rich, society dowager. She appeared with the Marxes in the screen versions of both The Cocoanuts (1929) and Animal Crackers (1930).

With the Marx Brothers, Dumont played wealthy, high-society widows whom Groucho alternately insulted and romanced for their money:

The Cocoanuts (1929) as Mrs. Potter

Animal Crackers (1930) as Mrs. Rittenhouse

Duck Soup (1933) as Mrs. Gloria Teasdale

A Night at the Opera (1935) as Mrs. Claypool

A Day at the Races (1937) as Mrs. Emily Upjohn

At the Circus (1939) as Mrs. Susanna Dukesbury

The Big Store (1941) as Martha Phelps

Her role as the hypochondriacal Mrs. Upjohn in A Day at the Races brought her a Best Supporting Actress Award from the Screen Actors Guild, and film critic Cecilia Ager suggested that a monument be erected in honor of Dumont's courage and steadfastness in the face of the Marx Brothers' antics. Groucho once said that because of their frequent movie appearances, many people believed he and Dumont were married in real life.

An exchange from Duck Soup:

Groucho: I suppose you'll think me a sentimental old fluff, but would you mind giving me a lock of your hair?

Dumont: A lock of my hair? Why, I had no idea you ...

Groucho: I'm letting you off easy. I was gonna ask for the whole wig.

Dumont also endured dialogue about her characters' (and thus her own) stoutish build, as with these lines, also from Duck Soup:

Dumont: I've sponsored your appointment because I feel you are the most able statesman in all Freedonia.

Groucho: Well, that covers a lot of ground. Say, you cover a lot of ground yourself. You'd better beat it; I hear they're going to tear you down and put up an office building where you're standing.

and:

Groucho: Why don't you marry me?

Dumont: Why, marry you?

Groucho: You take me, and I'll take a vacation. I'll need a vacation if we're going to get married. Married! I can see you right now in the kitchen, bending over a hot stove. But I can't see the stove.

Or her age (in their last film pairing, The Big Store):

Dumont: You make me think of my youth.

Groucho: Really? He must be a big boy by now.

Dumont's character would often give a short, startled or confused reaction to these insults, but appeared to forget them quickly.

Decades later, in his one-man show at New York's Carnegie Hall, Groucho mentioned Dumont's name and got a burst of applause. He falsely informed the audience that she rarely understood the humor of their scenes and would ask him, "Why are they laughing, Julie?" ("Julie" being her nickname for Julius, Groucho's birth name). Dumont was so important to the success of the Marx Brothers films, she was one of the few people Groucho mentioned in his short acceptance speech for an honorary Oscar in 1974. (The others were Harpo and Chico, their mother Minnie, and Groucho's companion Erin Fleming. Zeppo and Gummo Marx, who were both alive at the time, were not mentioned, though Jack Lemmon, who introduced Groucho, mentioned all four brothers who appeared with Dumont on film.)

In most of her interviews and press profiles, Dumont preserved the myth of her on-screen character: the wealthy, regal woman who never quite understood the jokes. However, in a 1942 interview with the World Wide Features press syndicate, Dumont said, "Scriptwriters build up to a laugh, but they don't allow any pause for it. That's where I come in. I ad lib—it doesn't matter what I say—just to kill a few seconds so you can enjoy the gag. I have to sense when the big laughs will come and fill in, or the audience will drown out the next gag with its own laughter... I'm not a stooge, I'm a straight lady. There's an art to playing straight. You must build up your man, but never top him, never steal the laughs from him."

For decades, film critics and historians have theorized that because Dumont never broke character or smiled at Groucho's jokes, she did not "get" the Marxes' humor. On the contrary, Dumont, a seasoned stage professional, maintained her "straight" appearance to enhance the Marxes' comedy. In 1965, shortly before Dumont's death, The Hollywood Palace featured a recreation of "Hooray for Captain Spaulding" (from the Marxes' 1930 film Animal Crackers) in which Dumont can be seen laughing at Groucho's ad-libs — proving that she got the jokes.

Writing about Dumont's importance as a comic foil in 1998, film critic Andrew Sarris wrote "Groucho's confrontations with Miss Dumont seem much more the heart of the Marxian matter today than the rather loose rapport among the three brothers themselves."

Dumont's acting style, especially in her early films, reflected the classic theatrical tradition of projecting to the back row (for example, trilling the "r" for emphasis). She had a classical operatic singing voice that screenwriters eagerly used to their advantage.

Dumont appeared in 57 films, including some minor silent work beginning with A Tale of Two Cities (1917). Her first feature was the Marx Brothers' The Cocoanuts (1929), in which she played Mrs. Potter, the role she played in the stage version from which the film was adapted. She also made some television appearances, including a guest-starring role with Estelle Winwood on The Donna Reed Show in the episode "Miss Lovelace Comes to Tea" (1959).

Dumont, usually playing her dignified dowager character, appeared with other film comedians and actors, including Wheeler and Woolsey and George "Spanky" McFarland (Kentucky Kernels, 1934); Joe Penner (Here, Prince 1932, and The Life of the Party 1937); Lupe Vélez (High Flyers, 1937); W.C. Fields (Never Give a Sucker an Even Break, 1941, and Tales of Manhattan 1942); Laurel and Hardy (The Dancing Masters, 1943); Red Skelton (Bathing Beauty, 1944); Danny Kaye (Up in Arms, 1944); Jack Benny (The Horn Blows at Midnight, 1945); George "Gabby" Hayes (Sunset in El Dorado, 1945); Abbott and Costello (Little Giant, 1946); and Tom Poston (Zotz!, 1962).

Turner Classic Movies’ website says of High Flyers: "The surprise... is seeing [Dumont] play a somewhat daffy matron, more Billie Burke than typical Margaret Dumont. As the lady who's into crystal gazing and dotes on her kleptomaniac bull terrier, she brings a discreetly screwball touch to the proceedings."

She also appeared on television with Martin and Lewis in The Colgate Comedy Hour (December 1951).

Dumont played dramatic parts in films including Youth on Parole (1937); Dramatic School (1938); Stop, You're Killing Me (1952); Three for Bedroom C (1952); and Shake, Rattle & Rock! (1956)

Her last film role was that of Shirley MacLaine's mother, Mrs. Foster, in What a Way to Go! (1964).

On February 26, 1965, eight days before her death, Dumont made her final acting appearance on the television program The Hollywood Palace, where she was reunited with Groucho, the week's guest host. They performed material from Captain Spaulding's introductory scene in Animal Crackers, including the song "Hooray for Captain Spaulding". The taped show was broadcast on April 17, 1965.

Dumont married millionaire American Sugar Refining Company heir and industrialist John Moller Jr. in 1910 and retired from stage work. The marriage was childless.

Moeller died during the 1918 influenza pandemic, after which Dumont reluctantly returned to the Broadway stage. She never remarried, and died from a heart attack on March 6, 1965. She was cremated and her ashes were interred in the vault at the Chapel of the Pines Crematory in Los Angeles. She was 82, although many obituaries erroneously gave her age as 75.

[donnerpartyofone]

This is so not a story at all, so get ready for a whole bunch of nothing about what a gigantic snob I am!

I can't stop thinking about this journey I went on with this person on Instagram. I'm obsessed with the area my dad's family is from, which is this weird tiny Finnish-but-culturally-Swedish, autonomous, demilitarized archipelago in the Baltic Sea. I'm always looking for Instagram users who live there, to see what daily life is like. I happened upon this one middle aged guy, and quickly noticed that he liked comics and genre film, which seemed lucky--the smaller a population, the less likely I am to find somebody with all my "weird" interests. So I followed him, even though I objected to his Van Dyke facial hair and consistently douchey uniform of a trench coat and porkpie hat. Then, I slowly began to realize that I didn't think he had very good taste in general; we generally liked the same kind of cult cinema, but he always seemed to find anything remotely cerebral to be really boring, and he skewed more toward Troma-style attention grabs, which *I* find really boring. His preferred comics ranged from boringly mainstream, to weirdly bad--cheapo revivals of musty old strip comics that absolutely nobody cares about. I knew the very slim population of guys who actually bought those books in the states, old duffers who a) think everything is a collector's item, and b) think their encyclopedic knowledge of e.g. seldom-seen silent era actors makes them geniuses. These guys also usually wore trench coats and porkpie hats, so I guess some things stay the same all around the world. On a side note, there's something distinctly European about loving both stuffy old genre material that has pretty much turned to dust by now (sword and sandal dramas, swashbuckling pirate adventures, etc), AND raunchy "in your face" splatterpunk satire. I can't describe why but it's definitely a thing, I encountered it a lot when I was spending time in France on and off, and it always gave me the willies for some unnamable reason. Uh anyway, I eventually figured out that this guy actually WRITES some of these throwback comics. I was thinking to myself, why the fuck would ANYBODY be obsessed with The Phantom, a property so boring that even in our creatively bankrupt post-everything era, the only attempt to mine it for contemporary interest is that forgotten Billy Zane movie? But no, it all makes sense, because this guy occasionally writes for a Phantom series that comes out of Australia. Let's take a quick look at some covers for that series, which will give us a good idea of why most rational people don't do this jungle adventure shit anymore:

I especially "like" the last one, where the Phantom is fucking some girl in a pool of native blood. The other thing this guy writes for occasionally is a comedy serial that I guess has been running forever, that's another kind of thing that lets me know the limits of my own taste. I guess it's kind of an Archie type of thing about conscripted military service:

The drawings are absolutely hideous, the jokes barely exist, and I don't even know how the scenario in the last one is supposed to have happened--did he phase shift through the tree or something? I had two jobs in the span of about 15 years where I saw all kinds of comics, so I'm not unfamiliar with this kind of thing, I just never ever "got" it. Even when the material is actually good, I never had good feelings toward the hairy, bulbous, hyperactive drawings that characterize a lot of European comedy output. Some of this would be forgivable if it were strictly for children, but Wikipedia tells me that this 91:an series is mostly read by older audiences. I would assume that this is because the existing fans mainly caught onto it in THEIR childhood, but who fucking knows, I have no idea what would attract anybody to this stuff in the first place.

Anyway, I just looked at this guy's Twitter page, and it lists him as a journalist and movie critic as well. I scrolled through about a year's worth of tweets to see if I could find any of his movie reviews. I could not. And, it's not an exaggeration to say that 85-90% of his tweets are just links to obituaries (not written by him) of like, every single remotely show business-y person who died, the second they died. This is another classic attribute of the kind of nerd who cares about Prince Valliant and shit, they always know everybody who is dead and they're really pushy about telling you for some reason. I find all of this kind of understandable when the person is in their 70s or something and has seen a lot of changes in the world, but this guy is only in his 40s or so. It's as if he fell in with a "bad crowd" of elderly nerds at a rummage sale (or at the very comic shop where I worked for many years, because they were all friends with the owner!) and just patterned his whole life after them.

Anyway, I don't really know what point I'm coming to. Probably none, I've just been thinking about this obsessively ever since I realized that this guy doesn't just innocently read bad comics, he actually writes them. I always knew there must be people who wrote these comics, I just never imagined them before, and now I got a whole profile going. Apparently this dude has a couple of screenwriting credits too, but I'm too scared to watch them.

[thotsforvillainrights]

Oh lol let me try.

Okay so I tend to dye my hair alot of funky colors and I have red and black in at the moment.

I'm 5'8 with freckles and brown hair. I have hazel eyes and I'm an aries.

I usually just dress up in comfy clothes as in a hoodie and leggings buy o reach out and buy cute outfits that I like.

I like to draw and write in my down time. I also like to hang out with friends a lot.

I also like to read horror and draw horror sometimes. My favorite film genre is paranormal horror.

Okay that's the best I got cause I've never done this before 🥲

(Nah this looks just about right to me, I’ve got it from here lol!)

Match-Up #2

-I match you with Tomoyasu Chikazoku-

headcanon|scenario|imagine|match-up

-First meeting did not go well at all. You ran into him (literally) on the way to work/school/or wherever one morning and spilled your drink all over his chest. He stood there glaring at you but it’s not like you could see his eyes through the thick bangs covering them. That being said, you can feel his energy radiating off of him and his demeanor was nothing short of displeased with you. “Sorry” was all you had time to utter to him of course. He cursed you as he watched you run off to wherever it was you had to be at. In fact, you might’ve pissed him off so bad that he cursed you all the way until he got to work that morning. A couple of chance meetings with each other later and he never would’ve guessed he’d end up falling for you. 

-Dating him is really something else. He’s always trying to be the voice of reason even if you don’t particularly want to hear what he has to say. He puts his 2 cents into everything but that’s just the way he can be sometimes. For example, when you’re enjoying your peace dying your hair in the bathroom with maybe some music playing you hear him approaching. Next thing you know, here he is with his “You know dying your hair too much can damage it right? Why not simply leave it be for a little while longer. What’s this? Red and Black? Two colors that surely match now but what if you get tired of it afterwards? Might I suggest trying-” blah blah blah. You knows he means well but sometimes it’s be nice to hear him not inserting himself lol.

-That being said, it’s not like he doesn’t like you’re style. He actually likes it very much to be honest. He really likes everything about you. He likes your smile, that little twinkle in your hazel eyes when you talk about something you’re passionate about, he even likes the way you glare at him when he pisses you off about something. He’s taken toward buying you a few outfits as his love language. He’s been with you long enough now to observe what you prefer and he returns one day with another comfy hoodie and a pair of leggings to add to your already growing collection. He let’s you handle getting you’re own cuter outfits since he’s not too fashionable about what to get there. Another thing he likes about you is your height. You’re a little on the taller or maybe average side which he tends to prefer. He’s very tall himself so he doesn’t like having to bend to low to kiss his partner or to do other things...

-(But of course if you were shorter he’d make the exception in the name of love and whatnot).

-If you’ll let him, he’d love to look through your sketchbook or journal sometimes. He of course provides constructive criticism that you didn’t ask to hear, but I’m sure you can put up with it by now. If you ever need a proof-reader then you can always count on him. He’s meticulous in his own line of work so he won’t spare a single mistake when reviewing your stuff as well. 

-When you’re not out hanging with your friends, he’s prefer if you took time to spend with him as well. He’s not too clingy, and more of a recluse but sometimes he needs you as a man would. You can feel free to put on a horror movie if you want but just know he will not shut the fuck up while watching it. He’s like this with every movie you watch lol. He picks apart the acting, the plotline, and all the scenes. By the end of the movie you keep reminding yourself that you’ll never do this again but of course you give him another chance next week when its movie night. In hindsight, maybe you should settle for book reading together instead!

[samtheflamingomain]

a deep defense of tracing

I'm a lover of art. I'm technically an artist, but my specialty has always lied in recreation. I like to take one medium and translate it to another. One of my favorite art projects is a 15-panel recreation of The Simpsons opening in the format of a very tall and narrow canvas styled as a film reel. Not to brag, but it's good - and I did it before paint pens became the most oversaturated market on Amazon.

Another of my favorites, however, is a direct tracing. I was given less than 12h notice that my previously-cancelled France exchange program was back on, and had to leave school at noon to get the plane at 6.

I ran from teacher to teacher to inform them and receive the projects etc before I left. (Just 2-3y behind any online-ness of classes in high school.) I had a particularly odd art teacher who assigned me a unique project of making an art journal about my trip which I believe sparked my love for mixed media. She also gave me the last project: a graphite realistic portrait.

I got the same assignment sheets as everyone else. And everyone else, back home, had easy access to an Overhead. Not sure if they're outdated or have different names elsewhere but for weeks in France I searched my lycee high and low for a 2000's version of a projector.

They didn't have one. Emailed the teacher. She advised me to print out a portrait of Zachary Quinto, my subject. Household didn't own a printer. School had me pay 4E to print 9 8x11" pieces of the portrait I was to draw.

I'm not an idiot. I've been tracing by taping the picture to the window for decades. It's why I struggle to admit I'm an artist. Sure, I can masterfully command pencil crayons to create lifelike portraits in minutes. But I start by lightly tracing them with a pencil! I should be hanged!

Or so says the mainstream.

I learned a lot from that one portrait. I learned that I had 2h of light after school to trace. And a big area to cover. It took me a solid 2 weeks. I did end up drawing the entire thing on my bedroom window, but only because my bed was perfectly positioned for me not to get a sore arm.

Despite it not reaching photorealistic, it was realistic, and one of the best in the class. I got a 100 because I got the same results without an Overhead.

Now, I still trace. I don't trace others' art, because that's been done. Despite being a recreationist, I don't trace 1:1. If I'm drawing a tattoo, I may trace elements but never a whole piece. If I'm doing a portrait I usually trace outlines and shadow lines, but after 20 minutes it's my own art piece; I'm using new media and making it my own while still trying for realism.

Tracing isn't inherently bad or good. It's a method of transfer. Carbon paper, tattoo paper, fuckin Camera Lucida, which I eagerly await the perfection of before throwing hundreds at one. But I do believe the technology will eventually reach the point where looking into a lucida will bring true 1:1s. Tracing isn't going away.

Let's be clear: tracing the work of another artist to pass off as your own is not okay. Tracing the work of another artist for: your own enjoyment, testing a medium, learning a specific style or skill, changing it, even just bringing it to a new medium can be transformative enough to be justified.

Nobody is losing money or fame or anything because I saw a super tall and skinny canvas and said "film strip" and then said "Simpsons opening" and then added my own chalkboard and couch gags, chose which exact moments got a slot, and did it all in acrylic with brush. My only regret is not waiting literally 2 months before paint pens blew up.

Unless you're selling it or calling it yours, trace all day. Doesn't matter. You wouldn't pirate a drawing? Fuck, I will.

Stay Greater, Flamingos

[mollyollypuddingpolly]

Fuck.

Was the first thing I thought when I woke up.

Or, actually. Not fuck. If they'd fuck everything would be great.

When I'd last left them, they had locked eyes at the school dance. The look in her eyes, I was so sure this was the moment!

I mean, I spent the past week slowly sabotaging his relationship and subliminally hinting that she was perfect for him. When he finally broke up with that darn recurring character I thought I'd done all I could do.

Clearly I was wrong.

I stood up and grab my phone which wasn't plugged in but magically at 100%. I glanced in the mirror and saw my perfectly styled hair and makeup that I was already wearing despite having just woke up.

What could have possibly gone wrong at the dance?

I appear in my kitchen, I'm not even sure if the layout of my house makes sense. I am fully dressed, in clothes I've never seen before. Just once I'd like to wear an outfit more than once. The house is quiet and still, I'm not important enough to have parents.

I grab an apple from the fridge and take a bite. At the same time my phone pings and I see a video sent out via a mass text. To the whole school. I've never even given anyone my phone number, but somehow I and everyone else receives the video.

Opening it I watch as my best friend stumbles forward knocking the punch table over covering herself in red juice. Text flys over the screen which reads "that time of the month?"

Oh no.

With a groan I scramble out of the door, my apple abandoned on the counter.

I've never gotten to finish a meal.

I rushed into school and spotted my friend tearing pictures of herself off of lockers.

Damn, the prop team acts fast.

"I saw the video, are you okay?" I ask helping her take down the photos plastered throughout the school, while the extras laughed

"No! It was so embarrassing! Everyone saw it, and now my life is over!" She responded.

No, your life is not over. This will probably set us back another season.

"How'd you even run into the punch in the first place?" I asked.

"Someone pushed me, I didn't see they're face though. And I was so close to getting my first kiss!" She cried. I stared at her excitedly.

"He was gonna kiss you?" I asked, maybe they had gotten farther than I thought.

"Well, maybe. He started walking towards me but, then everything happened and when I looked around he was gone." She stuffed the handful of pictures into a garbage can.

"Well, I have to get to class," she said and walked off screen.

Who could have pushed her?

I marched through the halls. Usual suspects first, the mean girls.

"Hey" I barked. She turned around prepared to be snarky. But when she saw that my friend wasn't there she dropped the act.

"What? I've gotta be at the basketball game in 5," she shook her pom poms for emphasis.

"Did you push her?" I ask. She smiles and shakes her head.

"No, I filmed it. But I know who did."

"Who." She shrugged.

"Well, her dad planned it. But of course he couldn't be at the dance, not after the last episode where they discussed her need for personal space. So, we all had a hand in it. I filmed it while the rest of the Jocks distracted him so he left the gym. Then, his ex pushed her,"

"But, why? They were so close to finally being together!"

"Yeah, and do you know what happens when they do?" She shook her head. No one knew what happened after the finale, she just assumed it would be better than this. "Exactly, we could cease to exist! I cannot risk that. So, we plan to do everything in our power to prevent the series finale."

"I won't let you," I say. She shrugs.

"Not sure what you plan to do, I mean. Have you been comforting your friend today, in her time of need? Or have you been to busy trying to end the show?"

"Well, no I only saw her once today."

"Wow, such a bad friend. A fight between you two could derail things for at least a few episodes."

I looked at her shocked. I'd fallen right into their trap.

You are the best friend of one of the main characters of a sitcom. The whole show revolves around them in a ‘Will They, Won’t They’ romance with the other main character and all the zany shenanigans that ensue. You and all the other supporting characters are aware you are in a sitcom and that once they get together, the show ends and you all cease to exist. All the other characters do their best to keep the main couple apart so the show will go on. Unbeknownst to all of them, you are actively doing your best to get them together so it will finally end. Describe your attempts to play matchmaker without anyone knowing

[prxncessophelia]

Magdalena Bay /r/Popheads Discord AMA [16/08/2019] Transcript

Q : Did you get your name from this iconic bop? [Sandra : Maria Magdalena]

MB : hahah no, Matt stole it from a literal person named Magdalena Bay // (they called her maggy bay)

Q : whats your biggest influence that sounds nothing like your own music

MB : we love PC Music even though we don't really sound like it

Q : out of everything you’ve made, what song is your all-time fave/which one are you the most proud of?

MB : We think Set Me Off is super underrated, but usually our fave is whatever the newest thing we write is

Q : Did Matt take up that offer at the DMV?

MB : hahaha NO

Q : whats the song you guys most had trouble with?

MB : hmmm probably move slow, we re-did the melody and production a few times before we settled on the disco vibes

Q : What made you guys decide to go for shorter song lengths, or was it somethjng that just happened naturally?

MB : We got tired of waiting so long to release official singles, wanted to do low-pressure quick songs that we could get out to our fans sooner!

Q : So like, where’s Voc pop on Spotify?

MB : hahah does anyone actually like that song?! It was the first pop thing we ever made and it was more of a learning experience for us than an actual song to us

Q : are you planning to tour europe anytime soon?

MB : we'd love to tour just need the right opportunity

Q : what's both of your favourite songs right now? also have you heard any of Caroline Polachek's music

MB : Actually one of our favorite songs right now is Door! Another is Ever Again (Robyn)

Q : one more: do you have any plans for an album in the future? Or are you just going with the flow

MB : yes we have album plans! Maybe next year

Q : Did you have a specific inspiration for Neon's music video, or was it just the whole vaporwave aesthetic in general?

MB : that video we actually didn't do ourselves, we found that archival footage of the couple and had that intro sequence sone but we sent it to our talented friend Matt Lewis who added the whole vaporwave element, we really weren't too aware of that whole world at the time! But it really worked well with Neon

Q : do you like the band Superorganism?

MB : haven't really listened to Superorganism, we'll check them out!

Q : Only thing I don’t like is the redbone cover to be honest with you and I’ve gone through your YouTube and soundcloud

MB : lol we respect that

Q : I really like your Redbone cover! What other songs would you like to cover?

MB : we always struggle to think of covers, was thinking of sourcing suggestions on Instagram so maybe we'll do that soon

Q : What is thr most difficult song of the creative process for you guys, is it, say, the lyrics, the melody, the mixing?

MB : probably lyrics, it's not that it's HARD but I get very particular about it and sometimes a little slow haha - Mica

Q : i just have to say, i think i've streamed your one song Only If You Want It a million times. it's such a bop and i think it's a great song to introduce people to your work. what was your inspiration for that song and the retro style music video?

MB : yes we think OIYWI really encapsulates what we're aiming to do musically, really glad you like it! Spice Girls, specifically Say You'll Be There, was a huge inspo. We really love that video but didn't have a plan for it AT ALL when we filmed all that footage of me with our vhs cam hahah so it was a mess but then we figured out the word art aesthetic and the bugs and it all came together

Q : How does it feel to be the highlight of my terrible day? Because once I saw the tweet I felt quite a bit better, plus my magbae playlist keeps me calm

MB : Thank you!! We made that cover ourselves so means a lot, and there's a little nod to each mini song in it which is fun

Q : have you ever covered songs that you decided against releasing?

MB : yes lol how did you know?? we did really weird attempts at promiscuous girl and rod stewart's if you think i'm sexy that will never see the light of day

Q : https://cdn.discordapp.com/attachments/264810236500639745/609503125677670418/magdalenabay.gif

MB : love the gif!!

Q : if a blackpink stan is called a blink is a magdalena bay stan called a mabay

MB : we think magbae is a good stan name

Q : what is the best/worst thing you've guys have encountered so far in the music industry??

MB : best/worst thing we've encountered in the music industry: one of the best things is finding our stuff being posted on r/popheads, we used to have to do it ourselves hahah, worst thing is dealing with shady industry people

Q : Any plans for shows in the Los Angeles area by the end of the year?

MB : re LA shows: we're working on it! probably yes

Q : Oh shoot i just thought of a very very improtany question i must know - Simply : Cats or Dogs

MB : DOGS

much later // we like cats too just dogs more :/

Q : Did you start making music for the fun of it, or did you actually have asperations to be famous?

MB : we started making music back in high school in a rock band and it just evolved from there. I (mica) never thought I would really do this until i had to graduate college and was like wait!!! I don't want a real job!! // Matt always knew he wanted to work in music

Q : magdalena bay, how would you guys describe your songwriting process?

MB : it's pretty different for each song, only thing that stays the same is that we write lyrics after melody, not all writers do that! but a song can start with a beat or chords or sometimes melody, from either of us!

Q : ooh I actually have one more question! what song of yours has the most meaning to you? whether it’s bc of the inspiration behind it or something else

MB : probably some of the unreleased stuff, but you'll hear it soon! a song called airplane is prob the most personal to me (mica)

Q : what artist(s) would you collab with, if you could pick any?

MB : soo many but Rina Sawayama is near the top of our list

Q : If you could travel back in time and impart one piece of advise to your early teenage selves, what would it be?

MB : START MAKING POP SOONER

Q : So do you sit down for hours and work on thinking of melodies or do they come to you randomly and you're like "whelp, time to record"

MB : both definitely happen, iphone voice memos are key

Q : Actually I do have a question, if y'all had a bigger budget, what would you be doing differently?

MB : blackpink-level music videos

Q : Favorite video games?

MB : We've just started playing video games and love zelda twilight princess but we're dumb and bad at it and are always stuck lol

Q : there are several users here in popheads who are trying to get into the music industry, if you have one tip you can give them, what would it be?

MB : try to do everything you can yourself- from music production to videos to graphics you will learn a lot and be less reliant on other people!! and you'll save money haha

Q : If yall dont thats chill but if yoy do whats your fav song from blackpink

MB : we like the one that goes dudududu

Q : Were you ever worried about a song with hashtag as a title/lyric? Or were you just that damn confident?

MB : yes we were worried lol

Q : would you play Minecraft

MB : don't know anything about it but matt's little sister plays it so sure

Q : we spoke about artists you'd like to work with so...what producers do you get inspiration from / would like to work with?

MB : definitely ag cook, Sophie, grimes, toro, also get a lot of influence from the classics like max martin, quincy jones, pharell

Q : What's one thing people might be surprised to learn about the both of you, respectively?

MB : Maybe that we started music playing in a progressive rock band (the opposite of pop) also matt is an amazing chef and mica is argentinian??

Q : if there is one, favourite Britney Spears album/song?

MB : BLACKOUT we listen to it every day

Q : is there any of your progressive rock stuff on the internet 🧐

Also: (you may have answered this already, skip if you have lol) why did you guys make such a genre switch?

MB : Yes but we're not gonna link hahah, and we started making pop because we were at school in different cities and pop is easier to make long distance.... didn't know we'd fall in love with making it! Also mica discovered art angels around that time and that was that

Q : will you continue to be in the server and chat with us? we enjoy having you and hope you'll stick around

MB : thank you!! @hals#0013 yes we'll be around

Q : what do yall liste to outside of pop

MB : NOTHING and with that, goodbye! :heart: :heart: :heart: thanks again!!

[duanecbrooks]

Black Being Beautiful      It's another old-time flick, having been made an entire year before The Grasshopper, specifically in--hold on to your hat--1968.                Its female lead is a woman who has long, long, long since devolved to Trivial Pursuit-question status, namely Diahann Carroll (Its male lead, Jim Brown again, has, as has been pointed out before, a very successful career as an entrepreneur, not to mention considerable visibility as a rather simplistic, indeed, flat-out shrill Black Spokesperson).                Having been made in 1968, its cinematic style and sensibility, not to mention the makeup of most, if not all, of its characters would likely be considered mightily passé, even, considering the fact that these days, political correctness is running rampant, prehistoric.                Yet be that as it may...      The fact is, The Split, which, thanks as usual to my greatly-cherished DVD player I've seen several times, is a quite gripping, very well-paced heist flick, easily carrying you along on its wavelength, easily causing you to accept its reality. And not once, not once, while watching it does your attention flag or you lose interest in its characters.                Let's specify...            Split kicks off with a wide-angle shot of a dirt road. Before long, it hones in on this car conking out, carrying this majorly hunky black dude, who, as we'll come to discover, is said picture's central character, McClain (Brown). He tries for a while to fix the car but eventually opts to riding a bus, which we see stopping in front of this rather ramshackle motel. McClain gets off and goes inside and is (in time) joyously greeted by its proprietor, Gladys (Julie Harris). He first asks about his ex, Ellie--whom we'll soon meet--and is bluntly told: "She moved. I haven't seen her." When asked about his future plans, McClain gives an answer that in sum tells the point of the entire picture: "Just one big job. That's all I want." We then see the aforementioned Ellie (Carroll) on the phone, enveloped in shock, obviously being told that her ex is back. Next we see the former couple in bed, lying warmly up against each other, obviously having Done The Deed. We quickly get the message that their history being together was far from happy (Ellie: "I kept on dreaming. And one morning I woke up and you weren't there. That was one morning too many." McClain: "If I'm not here, what the hell were you just doing [in having sex with me]?" This causes Ellie to angrily slap McClain's face). There's further dialogue between them (Ellie: "I'm weak with you...That's my problem...You want to see me crawl. You want to see me so weak I can't stand any more"; interestingly, given that, as has been mentioned, this was 1968, Ellie in time calls McClain: "You black son of a bitch!"), and then we cut to McClain casing the place the latter intends to hit, namely a football stadium where there's scheduled to be a face-off involving the Rams and the Packers (Gladys: "There's 80 thousand seats in the place." McClain: "And that's a lot of money").                 Let's continue. Following are scenes wherein McClain "tests" the fellows he wants to include in the upcoming heist, namely Clinger, Kifka, Marty, and Negil (Ernest Borgnine, Jack Klugman, Warren Oates, and Donald Sutherland, respectively) by putting them through various paces--dropping in on Clinger and initiating a fight, initiating an open-road car chase with Kifka, et al. When the team McClain wants and Gladys are gathered together, we discover that there's  certainly, definitely no love lost between McClain and the guys (Negil: "[McClain is] a big black idiot." Marty: "If there's one thing I don't have time for, it's a smart-ass nigger!"). Yet when our hero at last finally shows up they all fall into line and it's agreed that the money will be stashed at Ellie's place (Gladys: "Ellie's clean. And the cops have nothing on McClain"). Next up is a rather engaging montage wherein McClain and Ellie are walking side-by-side along different places, including the beach with Ellie carrying her heels (McClain: "I'll be with you [after the heist] because that's where I want to be"). At last finally the day of the heist arrives, with McClain and Co. seizing the take while holding several guards and several stadium employees--among them the longtime comedic actor Jackie Joseph--at gunpoint and getting away with the help of McClain and Kifka masquerading as ambulance drivers. Then, as Ellie is lying on top of her bed reading, she, and we, hear a knock upon her door. Upon opening it, in comes McClain with the stolen gains, making it clear his intent to stash them at Ellie's. After her expressing understandable consternation ("You're using me, Mac"), we see McClain seduce Ellie by first taking her up in his arms, then throwing her upon the bed and having his way with her, with her (lovingly?) caressing the money that McClain has thrown upon her bed. Following are McClain and Ellie (obviously) fully under the covers and the phone ringing. Ellie gets it and hands it to her ex, as it's for him. Next we see McClain and Clinger, while playing pool, making plans to get together later with the rest of the gang and divvy up the cash.             Next: We see Ellie's ever-horny landlord Sutro (James Whitmore) sneak into her apartment and, while our girl is combing her hair in front of the mirror, approach her, supposedly about the rent. Yet, as time goes on, it becomes abundantly clear that what Sutro really and truly wants is not rent money but Ellie herself--as evidenced by the frequent close-ups of her bosom area and her upper-thighs area. Before long Sutro gives in to his lust and grabs Ellie. There's a struggle, she manages to knee him and she opens the lower shelf of her drawer, where, we find, there's weaponry stashed. Yet Sutro catches her, throws her upon the bed, and himself gets hold of a machine gun lying inside the drawer. Sutro winds up fatally machine-gunning Ellie, seizing all the money, and throwing a sheet over her dead body.                      Split goes on. When McClain arrives at Ellie's apartment and discovers her corpse, he is of course devastated. Then he opens the drawer and sees that the money, all of it, has been taken, which also knocks him for a loop. The police--having been called by Sutro, who has alerted them to Ellie's murder--show up, McClain manages to get away and, upon re-uniting with the gang, discovers, along with us, that they are in no sense happy campers (Gladys: "You've humiliated me, McClain." Marty: "As you can see, you're on the spot, boy"). We then see that the police detective Walter Brill (Gene Hackman) has been assigned to investigate Ellie's murder (and also see a newspaper headline that fully reflects the fact that this was 1968: "LANDLORD SLAYS NEGRO BEAUTY"), McClain is for a while tortured by the rest of the gang--while his arms are being held down, Clinger smacks his exposed stomach with a soaking-wet rope--McClain manages to escape--with Gladys getting accidentally and fatally shot in the process--and winds up cornering Brill in his home. At first Brill resists McClain's pressure ("the former to the latter: "There isn't a man in the force who will rest if anything happens to one of their own"), yet comes to bend under McClain's prodding (McClain to Brill: "You curl up pretty fast for a cop, don't you?"). Brill comes to throw in with McClain, the latter assuring him that he's the best bet to getting the dough ("There are three others [in the gang], but if you deal with me, you might live to spend that money"), there's a shootout in a deserted area between McClain/Brill and the other gang members, said team winds up killing them all, and the ending of the picture is genuinely unusual. It's comprised of McClain being about to board a plane and stopping upon hearing...Ellie's voice.                So there's The Split, in all a marvelously taut, marvelously absorbing crime flick. Whitmore chillingly embodies the ever-lustful, ever-creepy Sutro. Hackman lends his monumental presence and his monumental acting skill to the role of Brill. The two white chicks of Split--Joyce Jameson as Girl-Girl, a jolie laide whom Oates's character hooks up with early on and Joseph--are, respectively, enticingly sexy and enticingly charming. All the backup gang members come through magnificently in the acting department; there's never, ever a false note concerning any of them. As scenarist, Robert Sabaroff comes up with many meaty, pithy exchanges for McClain and the principals in his life to engage in. And director Gordon Flemyng consistently keeps the action moving, never allowing anything to flag (Said scene between Sutro and Ellie deserves special mention, being an entirely blood-curdling combination of adroit camera placement and adroit editing. Also: Apparently Brown and Flemyng didn't exactly click as work colleagues. In his through-the-roof-selling personal/professional memoir, Borgnine reported that the latter, on the final day of shooting, went up to the former and--according to Borgnine, echoing his own feelings--told him: "If you were the last actor on Earth, I would never work with you again").               And now we come to Brown and Carroll. While their acting in The Split, frankly, leaves much to be desired, their stylish good looks, their forceful sexiness, and their awe-inspiring physiques save the day. Their scenes together are aflame with their physical spice and their physical grace. The fact is, The Split is further proof of a point I (I hope) have made before: that theatrical films were at their best when they were a visual medium, when they wholly put aside aesthetic considerations and simply presented gorgeous, muscular/shapely performers whose physical beauty and unyielding sexiness majorly turned us on (To make another point I hope I've made in the past: While television is up to its neck in intellectual and creative barrenness, it shines as a visual medium. There's no blah about the director or about any of its products' Importance. All that's needed is to get whatever Baywatch Babe on-camera showing skin or get Kerry Washington on-camera, period and the winning score is made).                    It was a 1970s writer who asserted that Carroll and her then-Julia-co-star Fred Williamson (remember him?; I didn't think so) "embody perfection." With regard to The Split, it is Carroll and Brown who are the real and the true embodiment of perfection. And are added proof, assuming any more is needed, of the sanctimonious guilt-bingeing and the complete meaningless of the "issue" of "looksism."