#acclaim magazine

[n64retro]

Official Brazilian Big N magazine Nintendo World #3

[elitehanitje]

[stephstans]

The Eternal Muse

Kristen Stewart

Elle Japan

[evilhorse]

Overstreet’s Fan ad (circa August 1996)

[trnsocial]

The WIZARDS Files | Ep 42: Darren Sanchez

In this fascinating interview with former Wizard Production Manager, Darren Sanchez, this comics industry veteran reveals how he went from an art student referred by Carmine Infantino to intern at Valiant who graduated to overseeing production on their line of books, then transitioned to Acclaim Comics with Fabian Niceza, leading to a 12 year career at Wizard, founding his own comic book company…

[numberxxisora]

Last week, we went to the diamond to try out our first baseball demo.

[retropolitan]

Jetzt schnell noch beim Weihnachts-Gewinnspiel von vor 15 Jahren mitmachen!

Sollte auch noch rechtzeitig sein. Also zumindest kann ich nirgens was von "Einsende-" oder "Teilnahmeschluss" lesen. Also dann: Schnell noch eine Postkarte zur Post gebracht und hoffen, dass man unter den glücklichen Gewinnern ist.

Ich hätte übrigens am liebsten (die Spiele und ein Lenkrad habe ich schon) das Tremor Pak Plus, die Mission: Impossible - Uhr oder den Buck Bumble - Pappaufsteller.

(Bildquelle: N-Zone - Magazin, Ausgabe: Dezember 1998)

[pressplay-if]

demo (prologue + ch.1 & 2, 118k words)

please mind the content warnings! asks are open, but please note that I am currently not accepting/answering RO scenario requests and questions concerning RO details, i.e. ROs' favorite color, height, etc. All relevant info regarding ROs can be taken from this post or the game itself.

cog forum post

You are one of the most famous yet mysterious characters of the 21st century rock scene. 

It all started when you discovered your love for singing during an extended stay at a psychiatric hospital as a teen. Music became your motivator, and from then on, you knew the stage was where you belonged. You and your friends formed a band, and after years of practice in a garage and cheap gigs at dingy bars, your journey to the top begins abruptly when you team up with a skilled manager.

It’s a meteoric rise— until it isn’t. 

And now, a decade after your band has disappeared from the public eye, you’ve accepted an interview by the acclaimed Groove Magazine. You and your former band members have agreed to give them the truth, the whole truth; as ugly as that might be. 

Follow the story of your band’s rise to fame (and eventual fall from grace)

Play as a pop-rock vocalist

Name your band and customize your music, lyrics and image

Handle the media, interactions with pushy fans and your own repressed thoughts and fears 

Romance your coolgirl-bassist, the childhood friend you cut out of your life, your absolutely insane guitarist, or your biggest fan/possibly stalker

Give one hell of an interview

Inspiration: Daisy Jones and The Six, Fleetwood Mac… and all sorts of music-related drama.

TW: themes of mental illness, unhealthy relationships, substance abuse, death, mentions of suicide, suicidal ideation, self-harm, SA-related trauma

ROs:

Stevie McLaughlin, bassist (f) — “I suppose I was the sanest one in that bunch.”

She’s one of your oldest friends, and if you follow the clanking chain of cause and effect all the way back to the beginning, it is her you have to thank for your entire career. The band was her idea, after all. She’s level-headed, composed, and always there to talk you down when you need her. Sometimes, she acts more as your retainer than anything else…

Stevie is tall and skinny with light brown skin and extremely long, curly black hair which she always wears in a wet look. She has big, dark brown eyes and a soft face.

Paul/Paulette Zima, lead singer & saxophonist (f/m selectable, trans) — “Trying to figure out where you know me from?”

Your band’s brand-new, second lead singer. Your manager says they’re going to give your music the kick it needs, that they’re the one missing ingredient to your success. You’re not entirely sure if you agree. Worse yet, you happen to know this person, and your time together didn’t end on a favorable note. They’re part of a past you would much rather forget.

Paul is very tall, broad-backed and thickly muscled with light skin, shoulder-length slicked back brown hair and bottle green eyes.

Paulette is of average height with an hourglass/slim thick figure. She has dark brown hair with parted bangs and light blonde strands dyed into it. Her eyes are bottle green.

Angel Monsanto, guitarist (m) — “I was always going to make it big, with or without those guys. Only, I… I really wanted it to be with them.”

Your crazy but good-hearted guitarist. His passion for music borders on obsession, and he will stop at nothing to make a name for your band. Sadly, he’s very much of the conviction that all publicity is good publicity, which has encouraged him to pull some very questionable stunts in the past. 

Angel is of average height and build with a warm beige complexion and long black hair. He has a square jaw with an occasional five o’clock shadow and brown eyes. 

Lincoln Saunders, groupie?? (f/m selectable) — “What can I say, I loved them.”

Calling Lincoln a fan would be an understatement. Fanatic is more like it. You remember seeing them at your very first show, and you’ve continued to spot them at every venue you’ve played at since. You don’t know anything about them, and perhaps changing that would be a very bad idea. But maybe you still want to.

Lincoln (m) is short and lean, with an angular face and wavy blond hair. His eyes are cobalt blue. 

Lincoln (f) is petite and tan, with a youthful, round face and chin-length blond beach waves. Her eyes are cobalt blue.

Others:

Maddox Wells (m), drummer

Another one of your oldest friends. You don’t much like to talk about what happened with him.

Fatima Shah (f), drummer — “I’m pretty sure they used to try to make me disappear with their fog machine.”

After things didn’t work out with your original drummer, Fatima saved the day. She’s a sweetheart to you, but from what you’ve heard, she can be kind of a terrible person. Maybe it’s best to stay a little wary of her.

Kalena Graham (f), manager — “The first time I saw them… well, they kind of sucked. But I knew, I just knew, that they had what it takes to suck on an international level.”

Your band’s manager. You can’t believe how lucky you were to have caught her attention. She’s experienced, driven, well-regarded in the industry and… kind of mean, to be honest.

Simon Young (m), reporter — “Start at the beginning. And then, don’t stop.”

The guy conducting the interview for Groove Magazine. He’s nice enough, if a little starstruck. It seems he has been waiting a long time for this.

Addendum: NSFW alphabet masterlist

Zima pt. 1 and pt. 2

Stevie

Lincoln

Angel

Dividers by @thecutestgrotto

Please consider reblogging <3

[macpowell23]

IWI TAVOR X95 16″ 5.56 NATO RIFLE, BLACK -XB16

[doyoulikethissong-poll]

The White Stripes - Seven Nation Army 2003

"Seven Nation Army" is a song by American rock duo the White Stripes, released as the lead single from their fourth studio album, Elephant (2003). Written and produced by Jack White, the song consists of distorted vocals, a simple drumbeat, and a bass line created by playing a guitar through a pitch shift effect. "Seven Nation Army" has become a sports anthem, commonly appearing in audience chants. It has also served as a theme song for sports teams, personalities, and events, including the 2018 FIFA World Cup.

The song charted in multiple countries, and its success contributed to the popularity of the White Stripes and the garage rock revival movement. It received widespread critical acclaim, with praise being given to its distinctive riff and drumbeat; various critics and magazines have since listed "Seven Nation Army" as one of the best songs of all time. It won Best Rock Song at the 46th Annual Grammy Awards in addition to being nominated for Best Rock Performance by a Duo or Group with Vocal.. The music video won Best Editing in a Video at the 2003 MTV Video Music Awards, as well as being nominated for Best Group Video, Best Rock Video, and Best Special Effects.

"Seven Nation Army" received a total of 92% yes votes!

[honeytonedhottie]

honey's it girl magazine november edition⋆.ೃ࿔*:･🎀

welcome back to honeys it girl magazine, this is the november catalog. get ready for the inside scoop on data that i've collected, things i've learned/started doing, and just general info like that organized in kind of a teen-magazine inspired fashion.

before we go any further i'd love to thank you all for the wonderful year we've had of it girls magazine, writing every catalog is SUCH a joy and im glad that u guys like it to. i'll continue to work on the magazine and make it more enjoyable for u all. i hope that as the magazine grows and evolves i'll have more lovely girlbloggers featured in my catalogs. this is THEE magazine for it girls ✨ and now please enjoy, the it girl magazine.

THE HISTORY OF HELLO KITTY ;

hello kitty was born in the suburbs of london. she lives with her parents and her twin sister mimmy who is her bff. her hobbies include baking cookies and making new friends. as she always says, “you can never have too many friends”. but what else is there to know about this 3 apples tall ray of sunshine? SOOO much actually which is why i decided to write about hello kitty’s history.

hello kitty was created by the japanese company sanrio in 1974. she was initially designed by yuko shimizu. hello kitty quickly became emblematic of the cute culture in japan and a global symbol of nostalgia and girliness. hello kitty’s representation of girliness played such an important role in defining and popularizing kawaii culture in japan. hello kitty became a subtle statement of empowerment in the 1970s and 80’s.

the average apple is 3 inches tall. take your height in inches and divide it by three to find out how many apples tall you are! im 21 apples tall…💬🎀

during the 70's and 80's expectations for women were shifting, and with this context hello kitty emerged not only as an adorable kitty but as an emblem of a new type of femininity—one that embraced softness and strength simultaneously. hello kitty is associated with things like happiness and joy. in the 21st century, hello kitty’s presence in pop culture exploded.

a lot of celebrities are seen with hello kitty items, hello kitty collaborated with high-fashion brands, artists etc. they all appreciated her mix of innocence and global acclaim. and i think that the fact that shes maintained her grip on society even now says so much! hello kitty just RESONATES.

and honestly, hello kitty's longevity is a testament to her universal appeal. over the decades, hello kitty has gone from being just a character to becoming a pop culture icon that resonates with people of all ages and regions of the world. whether it’s a child picking out their first hello kitty backpack or an adult rocking a limited-edition hello kitty x gucci collection, she bridges generations with her timeless charm 💖

the success of hello kitty has a lot to do with her straightforward yet unmistakably unique design. her iconic bow, the lack of a mouth—on purpose, so that she can "speak from the heart"—and her endless versatility only cement hello kitty as an open canvas for self-expression. she’s playful, she’s nostalgic, she’s even edgy, depending on how she’s styled or reimagined.

hello kitty became a symbol of softness and femininity because she showed that being gentle and kind could still be powerful. when she was created in the 70s, women were stepping into new roles, and hello kitty stood for a new kind of strength—which wasn’t about being loud or aggressive but about connection, joy, and kindness.

SELF GRATITUDE. YOU'RE SO AMAZING ;

gratitude is a feeling thats really emphasized during november and i think that we should always be most grateful to ourselves! no one puts as much effort or loves u as much as u do. so lets take some time to appreciate ourselves and everything that we've done for ourselves as 2024 comes to an end.

take a moment to recognize everything that you've achieved this year, challenges that you've overcome and things that you've done for yourself this year to create a better more glamorous life for yourself. dont forget to say thank you and celebrate yourself cuz ur literally so cute and amazing and capable 💕

some ways that u can celebrate yourself and show gratitude towards yourself include…💬🎀

♡ pamper yourself with a spa day ♡ book that appointment you wanted ♡ write a love letter to yourself ♡ buy yourself a bouquet of flowers

PREPPING FOR A SUCCESSFUL YEAR ;

2025 is right around the corner so we should prepare and set ourselves up for success in this new year. so to start off prep for the next year we should make a MANIFESTATION list. title the list "2025" and write down everything that u want to manifest that year in a list fashion.

an important aspect of setting urself up for success in the new year is to reflect on the year we just had. reflect on your year so that u can see what u accomplished this year/what u can do better in the next year…💬🎀

i break up my year into 4 quarters (each lasting 3 months) that way i can see my year broken up and i have a clear plan and i can be organized. quarter one (january - march) quarter two (april - june) so on and so forth. and after every quarter i do a little analysis. and finally wrap up some things projects, assignments and things of that nature so that u can go into the next year on a clean slate.

WHAT THE IT GIRLS ARE LISTENING TO ;

first im gonna start off by talking about txt's new album SANCTUARY cuz if u guys didn't know im a moa 🙈. i LOVED everything about this album, the concept EVERYTHING. my favorite song on the album is 41 winks and over the moon is also incredible, i loved all the songs!! literally u cant name one bad song txts ever released cuz it doesnt fucking exist their discography is perfect. 10/10. i highly recommend giving it a listen if u have not.

tyla also released push to start and the music video is just a work of ART. tyla has been consistently giving us hit after hit, shes so incredibly talented and i LOVE push to start. i love the choreography also, but something that i love the MOST about this music video is the fashion like HELLO?? tyla rocked tiny tops and big boots in this music video and im lowkey living for it. the fringes in her tiny top in the opening scene, her teensy denim shorts that she leaves unbuttoned to show off her blinged out panties like YES.

THE ADVICE COLUMN ;

Hi! Question for the advice column. I'm going on a trip for my birthday to a retreat, with a group of 10 friends in a couple of weeks. It's only 3 days but I am so excited. I am in a part of the world where it's summer right now, so my question is: what are your essentials for a summer trip? Swimming gear, accessories, skincare etc, I'm planning all my outfits in advance, so any advice is appreciated. Thank you! 𐙚˙⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

❤︎ SPF (between 30-50)

❤︎ lacy/frilly bikinis and swimsuits. they make u look like an absolute beach doll 🍬✨

❤︎ a yummy body butter + body shimmer (during the summer, we show lots of skin so its important to stay moisturized like a glazed doughnut and also to sparkle like the star u are)

❤︎ as for clothing i typically opt for tube tops, mini skirts, sundresses and things of that nature. i LOVE summer fashion

❤︎ blinged out water tumbler for fashionable hydration 💦 and ofc a portable mini fan

Do you know how to make yourself look more exotic/tropical in appearance? Like I want to look like a tropical mermaid - cotton candy doll

❤︎ use a bit of shimmery bronzer on ur cheekbones and collarbones to achieve that glowy sun kissed look

❤︎ when i think of cotton candy key west kitten doll i think of BEACHY WAVES and bubblegum pink lips so braiding ur hair overnight can help you to achieve beachy waves in the morning, and invest in a bubble gum pink/glossy coral colored lipgloss (i recommend candy baby 🍭 from victorias secret)

❤︎ use fragrances with notes of fruit and coconut

NOVEMBER TRENDS ;

one of my favorite trends this november is the women in male dominated fields trend. its been all over my tiktok and essentially the trend is just women behaving the way many men of today behave towards women and giving them a taste of their own toxic medicine.

this trend reminds me a lot of ciara's song "like a boy". some of my FAVORITE moments from this trend are as follows…💬🎀

♡ when hes pouring his heart out in front of me and i start practicing my jumpshot mid-argument

♡ when hes got tears running down his face explaining to me why my actions hurt him but i just ask him "why are u with me then" and carry on with my day

♡ when he catches me in a lie but i just hit him with the "alright believe what u want"

this trend puts into perspective the toxic and dismissive behaviors that are becoming more and more common and that are normalized in relationships, now that the roles are reversed. it also serves as a reminder of how important mutual respect and empathy are in any relationship.

[rosiesmuts]

Odd Atelier

BLACKPINK Jennie

Words: 4,000

Tags: 🍑

A/N: Happy Birthday Jennie

Probably the greatest birthday cake in existence. It's not the traditional kind in the very least. It's one that can't be shared among family and friends; can't be used for gifts or congratulations.

Outside of the walls of Jennie's bedroom is evidence of a party. Traces of her most loved ones that celebrated her 27 years on this Earth: balloons are floating around, streamers cover every room, empty pizza boxes and discarded plastic cups are everywhere. But now they're all gone—the only thing left is this magnificent birthday cake presented just for you.

Jennie Fucking Kim on all fours, her ass in the air, her winking starfish slathered in saliva. It's what she deserves—a fitting gift that honors the birthday girl perfectly. And you are the lucky gift giver. Slobbering over the woman that appears on billboards, magazine covers, red carpets and anywhere else hot women go. It's been thirty minutes of pure unadulterated feasting and Jennie's getting lightheaded because of it—her ass and pussy have been utterly adored by your lips and tongue.

So good. There's a fine art to eating ass—especially one that belongs to Jennie. Your face, chin, and entire jaw are a mess, so are the sheets under her knees. You can only imagine how thoroughly debased your upper lip must look right now.

It makes you throb. Having Jennie in this position. Her entire back is sweaty and arched like a cat. She keeps shaking because her legs feel like jello. You grip her right cheek with a tight palm, tug it a little before lapping at it once more. You reach her quivering ringed hole and lick the velvety skin with an aggressive flat tongue that makes Jennie mewl as your chin gets pushed against her cunt.

You can't help but plant another soft kiss over the rim, humming contentedly at how incredibly warm it feels. How inviting it is. And while it has been truly mind-blowing—to feast and devour the pussy and ass of a globally acclaimed woman… you've noticed a certain desire in the last five minutes.

Jennie Fucking Kim. World famous idol. Begging for everything while her face is smothered into a pillow. A pathetic, needy woman. Just for you.

Now she wants more than just your tongue. It's her birthday. She has presents waiting to be opened.

"Oh please..." Jennie whimpers. Her eyes are half-closed as if she was lost in a trance, only roused when your thumb slowly pokes the pucker. Your tongue on her cheeks, spreading saliva everywhere, getting her as wet as possible for what comes next.

You start to prod Jennie's puckered backdoor, teasingly sliding between her jiggling cheeks—earning you another moan. This would make one hell of a documentary if she was ever caught like this. Probably cause an outrage, too. Imagine the look on those thirsty fans of hers seeing their godly idol just... ruined. Debased. Mired in sex. It doesn't matter, of course, whether her fans would find her reprehensible for it. They don't matter now that she's on her hands and knees. Vulnerable in a way nobody should ever be vulnerable—not her. Especially not Jennie. But she is.

"Mmm..." There goes another sigh. A sigh of relief when a thumb presses against her crinkled rose. Slowly, lovingly, sinking into the deep confines of her forbidden place.

Her hips jump and you force her back down. You love her sounds; the soft sighs, and gasps. How can you not? Right now she's giving a little show, she loves the attention. Looking over her shoulder with an infectious grin on her face—an encouraging smirk, showing you that she's waiting on something a little more exciting. A lot more exciting. You raise your eyebrows in response. She purses her lips in answer.

Oh.

Of course.

"You ready birthday girl? Any ideas on what your present should be?" You lean back, pulling out a bottle of lube from her bedside table. Lathering the entirety of her asshole with it. She looks so damn gorgeous with her toned back in an upward arc and a sexy face contorted in an expression of pure want and lust.

"Surprise me..." Her response is a seductive purr.

The invitation is too hard to resist—especially since Jennie's arching back pushes her hips out and back, effectively shaking her ass side-to-side with a delighted chuckle.

"...OH!" The tip teases her entrance, making her entire body spasm before you're actually able to penetrate. Her backside is soaked, but there are some resistances as your shaft pushes, pushes, pushes… finally stopping only once the ridge of your head pops through.

Fuck, it's tight. Damn it all to hell and heaven, how is her ass always this tight?

There goes another delirious sigh. Hitched. Croaky. Slightly high-pitched. Another wonderful sound coming from a woman that sounds like an angel, looks like one, and sings like one. There are few things Jennie can't do; she's too talented. Too beautiful. An exquisite blend of form and function, pleasure and pain—both which she endures on a daily basis. All because she was made to be looked at by everyone, but never touched. To inspire all, but not to interact. Except tonight.

Tonight it's all about Jennie. The birthday girl always gets her wish.

Jennie clenches hard the further your cock invades. It feels absolutely electric—every last bit of it. The way her body stretches is nothing short of spectacular.

"Ah fuck! P-please. Slow..." She grits her teeth, digging her nails into her pillows, no doubt. She's trembling all over. It's hard for her to take, but she also knows that the pain will eventually make way for a sensational bliss. It always does. Her slim defined back is lightly coated in sweat.

"Slow enough?" You rub your fingers into her backside. A warm up of sorts before grabbing the cheeks with enough vigor to leave marks. Pulling and squeezing the soft flesh of her backside apart, lewdly examining where the two of you are conjoined, and with a sinister chuckle, give an experimental pump.

"FUCK!" She starts to shake uncontrollably and tries her best to remain steadfast, "Keep going..." It comes out as a pant. She's enjoying it, after all. Enjoys the little hurt it brings—gets off on the little sting you're able to provide.

Little by little, you push into Jennie's perfect heart-shaped butt. Into her ass that's incredibly hot and constricting—almost impossible to breathe whenever her body coils tightly around your hard-on.

"Yes!" She tosses her hair, biting into the sheets when your hips meet her ass with an audible slap.

You hold still for a moment. Rocking back and forth a little bit as the tight heat wraps you in pure silk. Almost overwhelming, considering just how tight she is. All you have to do is sit and savor the feeling while Jennie's chest drops onto the bed.

She's panting, heaving even, but she wiggles her hips in an attempt to get accustomed to your presence. Another meek sound of frustration is heard, causing you to release an amused breath as you stroke her back. When she looks over her shoulders—there's a wild gleam in her dark eyes. It's almost magical. "Fuck my ass like you hate me..."

And without further prompt, you pull out halfway before snapping your waist into her with all the force you can muster. That single action elicits a choked cry from her throat and then another and another.

You let it loose. Go all out. Use every ounce of strength and force until the two of you are shuddering and yelling, the obscene sounds of sweat and bodies mingle with moans and groans. It's so dirty; so filthy, yet Jennie absolutely loves it. In spite of everything she does for a living, her actual sexual appetite is simply unbridled.

Pulling her arms towards you, you gather both wrists within your right hand and pin them firmly against her lower back. Using it as leverage to ram yourself into her at an almost unnatural pace, watching in utter fascination at the way her back muscles shift and move, all to keep herself from tumbling face-first against the bed.

All the while, she's groaning. Slurring words incomprehensibly, asking for a little bit of pain—which you gladly deliver. Each slap is perfectly timed, enough to turn her flesh pink and vibrate from the impact, but not hard enough to do real harm. Just like that, Jennie is thrashing on top of her pillow, pushing back in an attempt to relieve the sting before grinding and rubbing against you. The little shit always craves more.

It's hard to imagine who's getting the better present here. For her, it could be the rough anal fuck she's been wanting for some time now. It's all she asked for all week—and for you, it was getting the chance to savagely pillage and conquer the ass of the hottest girl on Earth.

"F-fuck! I'm gonna-ah..."

Those words ring around your ears as they get muffled with her bedsheets.

"You're gonna what?" You pause to lean forward and growl into the shell of her ears. Tugging her arms and forcing her to arch her spine further until her back is kissing the skin of your stomach, causing her to hiss in satisfaction, "You're gonna cum like a filthy slut with her ass being reamed?"

"Yes!"

The thirty or so minutes of foreplay have certainly paid off. She started already wound up tight, and now her body is practically trembling, eager to let loose. It's impossible to prolong the pleasure for long; with a little more adjustment to the angle and speed, Jennie finally sings and wails—shaking and writhing her body on the verge of a world shattering climax.

Jennie Fucking Kim owns one beautiful little fuckhole and it squeezes every last bit of vitality from you, almost as if her ass was trying to strangle every last bit of life you had. Your entire frame trembles as her snug, grasping hotness envelops you in a hot prison and attempts to rip you off. For the duration of her climax, her hands scramble to grab anything and everything they can: her own hair, the sheets—the world, perhaps. There's a little bit of everything happening at that exact instant and you're almost too afraid to move from fear of losing such a heavenly sensation.

But of course, you move.

It's her birthday after all, she needs a few good spanks to feel fully appreciated. To let her ride out this intensity, her entire body jittering in pure elation. And you grant it to her. Delivering more spanks to her beautiful ass, reddening them further, adding to that warmth and almost euphoria-like state the superstar is experiencing.

Her pussy quakes and flutters. The feeling of cumming by butt alone is so much greater than it normally would've been. The tension was much more powerful, stronger in a way and almost addicting, despite the slight twinge in her cheeks and the noticeable bite of pain.

For a moment, everything is lost.

"So sensitive... C-can barely think straight..." Her head sways limply. You'd almost feel bad, if not for her pleased giggles and blissful sigh.

Jennie lies limply, spent beyond measure, all to satisfy her desires. You have to roll the idol on to her back as it seemed her strength has suddenly left her. All to ensure she doesn't completely collapse and possibly ruin this fun party for the both of you.

She's glistening in a thick sheen of sweat and her smile has never looked so brilliant and inviting.

"You're beautiful Jennie..."

"Funny that your greatest compliments come when you're fucking my ass." A sly giggle is shared. She raises a leg and holds it against her chest while the other one is casually parted open.

"What can I say? I'm a man of refined taste." You take the sight of her body in—of the woman splayed on her back like this; naked and satisfied, slick and supple skin glistening in a heavy sweat. The sticky fluids around her folds are starting to coat her ass as well and you can't help but smile to yourself in triumph. "Shame it's over already." You know exactly what to say. How to challenge her. And of course she's not gonna refuse. It's Jennie. Of course she has a few more tricks up her sleeves.

"Nope, this is just the beginning..." She smirks. The life returns to the doe-eyed beauty and the glint in her dark irises becomes nothing short of wicked. It's time for Jennie to stop being the submissive little bitch and take charge. To show that her famous curves are hers to own. Her beautiful body and devious mind is hers and only hers to use as she sees fit. You watch as she leans forward and puts both her palms on your chest—forcefully pushing you down to her bed and straddling you, grinding that beautiful ass over your stomach and making your unreleased cock twitch with need.

It's only 11pm and Jennie still has an hour left to celebrate her 27th birthday... and she intends on spending all that time savoring that delicious ache in her ass.

Happy birthday to her. Happy birthday to you.

"There's no time for a rest, right now I'm gonna ride you."

No complaints.

Absolutely none.

There isn't any way to decline Jennie. Not when it involves your cock and her ass.

After all, it's Jennie's night—the night she turns you into a quivering mess, the night when she puts you under her spell—and makes you fall harder than before. She turns up the heat—another degree hotter when she's at her sexiest, at her most mischievous and dominant.

Jennie winks. Her favorite, trademark move as her face glimmers under the twinkling lights. Her lips are slightly parted in that signature Jennie Kim pout and she's now putting her assets into a display of sorts; rolling her body slowly in an almost rhythmic motion. This dance, a teaser, and one that her fans would pay a premium to see, makes its way on stage: you.

Her toned lithe waist, the little things on her chest, and that godforsaken smile. So tight and perfect. Hot and inviting, and you just need to feel that intense grip around your shaft once more. There's no safe words here—not like Jennie will ever let you use them anyway. Her small frame begins to writhe to its own imaginary beat, shimming and shaking with purpose. The gentle rise and fall of her chest is hypnotic. A sway. Back and forth.

You want her. Badly. She holds your cock in her dainty palm and teases it over and over.

"This is for me and my birthday... Any objections?" Her smile becomes impossibly bigger. Playful and inebriating and there is only one answer that fits the occasion.

"No." Internally you're dying. She keeps pressing it against her starfish, but never quite giving in, only smearing the precum over the orifice.

She smiles in amusement, "Good." She leans forward, capturing your mouth with an affectionate peck on the lips. "Just a little longer. Wanna see how long you can wait."

And so the torture begins. The heat, the haze, and the melody of a sex-drunk woman.

A world-renowned dancer who shakes her hips as she rolls forward, running a finger against your pecs. She brings your hands up to do the same, telling you to caress every nook and curve of her. Make her feel that irresistible electricity that shoots straight down her spine when she's with you. To feel how soft her skin is and how malleable her beautiful little breasts are. She gasps with glee, giggling away in genuine amusement.

She rises from your grasp—her tantalizing curves a testament to her dedication, her passion. You swallow dryly as a drop of saliva drips off the corner of your lips. Such a lewd display has you seeing stars. Your jaw slacks and your eyes focus entirely on her figure—all its stunning contours, lines and edges.

"You really love my ass." A cute puff escapes her. A tinkling laughter before she fulfills out every one of your shared desires.

The snug fit is inevitable—after an incredible amount of teasing from your lovely playmate, she has finally chosen to go for it. Her back is arched upwards and she bites her lower lips when your rod enters her still raw hole—though there's a tiny bit of pain that never bothered her before.

"Shit..." Jennie holds your arm tightly for a moment. That is, before an unholy mixture of delight, satisfaction, and searing arousal overtakes her mind. This moment of weakness doesn't last for long and she immediately repurposes it. She bounces and grinds—each move has her inner walls massage your cock. You're in bliss. Everything that the star does is magical and you're so utterly infatuated. So hypnotized by the look of absolute indulgence. She's an elegant song, and a masterpiece to behold. The sweat pooling between her breasts only enhances her grace, a little bead trickles down her navel. She throws her head, luscious raven hair falls everywhere, and her eyes are squeezed shut, a guttural moan when she sits completely flush.

She rests for a second, catching her breath, still smiling all the while. Even at rest, she's mesmerizing. You notice how she holds your hands firm, fingers intertwined, she won't let you escape. You never wanted to.

The adorable whimpers of happiness are back as she looks up at the ceiling, rocking her hips lightly—teasing you, coaxing you for even more. With one smooth move she's rising and falling, faster, and faster still, going for a solid tempo that sees her hips pounding incessantly against yours.

"Fuck." a choked cry is pulled out of you, "this feels amazing."

"Oh yeah, you really like me fucking my own ass?" Her smug little comment is punctuated by a grunt and another hearty slap to her juicy cheeks. Jennie laughs in her unique sing-song way—breathy sighs and delicious whines. She bounces. And she bounces and bounces—both her beautiful tits, her raven-haired head, and that irresistible heart-shaped ass, too.

Jennie raises and falls on your length and her heavy breathing fills the air alongside her impassioned, sexy cries. She works so hard on top of you and pulls out all the stops: shaking her ass side-to-side, clamping down as she draws to the head of your dick, relaxing on the way down again. Jennie is a performer after all, and she can really put on a show.

She arches her spine back and traces a finger along her untouched flower. Teasing herself. That part of Jennie will be left alone, at least for right now, this is an anal adventure, and so her pleasure from that particular place will have to wait until later. The teasing is deliberate, playful, and a way of providing more stimulation to her greedy bum. It is enough to make her squeak in desperation. The urge to touch herself is overbearing, and only increased when you reach up and pinch the tiny nubs on her chest.

Her expression melts at the assault—completely uninhibited, free, and not afraid of getting messy. There's no one here to judge her. No one except the lucky, blessed spectator below and her own greedy one track mind focused on pleasure. On indulgence. Complete self-gratification.

The strain is showing. Her pace slows as her tired legs from exertion. And now you're the one showing her pity, running a palm over the damp hair sticking to her back, down to the subtle dimples above her ass. She sighs sweetly in response and then draws close, clutching onto your arms.

"Do something for me?" She asks cutely.

You smile in response, nodding your approval. Jennie relinquishes control, simply lays on your chest, awaiting for the moment your hips thrust in and out of her.

"Happy birthday," Your first kiss is to her cheek then your lips hover against her ear, "and to many more to come, Miss Jennie Kim."

Your next movement has her clamp a hand over her mouth in order to smother a lustful gasp. A roll of your hips followed by an upward pump. There is absolutely nothing that beats that first initial snap of the waist. Another after. You use one hand to steady her in her current prone position. The other one is at work, roughly pawing at her ass and smacking at the red cheeks, accenting each new powerful snap of your waist.

"Harder..." Jennie slurs with delirious elation.

You're not sure which one she's referring to, so you offer her both: pumping harder and faster as requested while striking her ass with enough force that the echoes reverberate across her bedroom.

"Fuu-ah... FUCK!"

For a moment, you're startled by her reaction. By how intensely her asshole grips, how hard she pants, how quickly she is cumming without warning. So much buildup and yet that's all it takes. Your chest tightens and you grit your teeth, fighting off the climax that threatens to shoot straight into her backdoor. But she's begging you, practically urging you, to fill that lewd forbidden place with everything that you got.

"You should feel lucky you know," Jennie moans between bounces. "If I let you cum inside, and believe me you'll be allowed to cum inside. You'll be the luckiest man in the world."

Fuck... No kidding. You already feel like the luckiest man alive at this very second.

But your legs are growing weaker, the knot forming at the base of your stomach tightens with each passing moment. The immense pleasure burning through you with each new throb. It's hard to stave off the inevitable release that is boiling just at the threshold.

You take a deep breath. Close your eyes and pray. It's the only way to stay sane—you have to remain in control for just a minute more.

"Go ahead. Be the luckiest man in the world."

Jennie offers permission. There is no denying her this time. And you'll do everything to ensure this birthday will be unforgettable—and you're ready to take that first step.

The idea of an impending explosion is intimidating, the reality even more so. Your body seems to go haywire—like a machine whose sole function is to thrust deep inside Jennie, causing her to spasm, her muscles to quake. Jennie moans. Louder and louder. Less controlled, less sensual. More animalistic and filled with need. Desperate sounds that don't stop spilling out of her the more you shove your hips into hers.

Over an hour of buildup all comes down to one single moment. An unceremonial release, both from Jennie and you. This climax, stronger than any, stronger than all the others. Your last ounce of strength goes to pin Jennie back against your lap, just as you unleash torrential floods of seed—soaking her, coating every part of her ass that is available and then some. At the same time, Jennie lets loose with an unrestrained series of whimpers and lets the warmth from deep inside her wash over. Let it run out between your tightly squeezed bodies.

A myriad of sensations hit the two of you like a tsunami: your entire frame erupts with sensation, shivers and shudders from the pleasure and euphoria. All around, your senses go out of focus, the room begins to spin, but not in that nauseous way—a heavenly sort of thing, and when Jennie purrs out your name in pure satisfaction, your pulse spikes. The hazy heady rush and feeling of ecstasy hits a crescendo, the pinnacle of satisfaction.

The breaths are still coming hard and fast. Hearts beating frantically. What started out slow is ending with a flourish.

She still has some time left to her special day but everyone involved in the intimate celebration is completely spent. Utterly exhausted, but content.

Jennie rolls off your body, uses whatever strength she has left to nuzzle against the crook of your neck, "Best birthday ever..." She presses an appreciative kiss against your sweaty, heated temple.

And that, to you, is a win—one that surpasses all the awards she has already achieved.

[keeryhours]

the needle and the damage done - chapter one

Older! Rockstar! Eddie Munson x female! reader

Main Masterlist

Series Masterlist

Eddie Munson Masterlist

Summary:

37 year old Eddie Munson is a washed up rockstar - reckless, wild, and heavily addicted to drugs. His drug use tore apart his band and his family. It’s up to him to make things right.

A bit of a prologue. Eddie destroys his own life.

Warnings:

(18+), HEAVY warning for drugs (weed, psychedelics, cocaine, pills, heroin), alcohol, addiction, one slightly smutty part, p in v, pregnancy, birth, medical conditions, rockstar and addict behavior, cycle of trauma, ANGST, mention of shitty parents, broken families

Word Count: 3k

A/N:

I hope you enjoy this new series! Please mind the triggers and warnings!

—

Corroded Coffin was Eddie’s first baby.

He started that band in middle school with his closest friends. He gave it his everything all throughout school, to the point that he repeated his senior year three times and still never graduated.

But that didn’t matter, because it paid off. Corroded Coffin made it big. Huge, in fact. Like playing three sold out shows in a row at Madison Square Garden big.

You had been there from the beginning, too. Friends since 3rd grade, growing up together in Forest Hills trailer park. Where Wayne and Eddie always gave you sanctuary from your own shitty parents.

You and Eddie started dating in 10th grade. It felt like it had been forever coming. You had both been crushing on each other since the beginning, both too scared to say anything about it. But one day, after a Hellfire campaign, Eddie cornered you in the drama room and asked you out. The rest was history, as they say.

You started working at Benny’s after graduation, waiting for Eddie to catch up with you. A few years later and Eddie was coming in with the mail screaming - the tapes the guys had sent off to record labels had paid off. One wanted to meet them.

It was a whirlwind of fame and music after that. Things happened so quickly it made your head spin. They recorded an album, released it to critical and fan acclaim, went on a tour. Eddie swept you off your feet and you spent 4 months living on the tour bus, seeing the country with him and the guys. Every show sold out, fans lining up outside after trying for even a glimpse of the band. They were usually happy to stop for autographs, unless they had to be somewhere, an interview or a magazine shoot.

The suits insisted it would be better for the band’s image if they all appeared single, but Eddie was having none of that. He paraded you around like his personal trophy, showing you off to anyone who would see. It was a little embarrassing, but you loved him.

Eddie pulled you onstage at the final show of the first tour. You were terrified to be on stage in front of so many people, already embarrassed about whatever Eddie was about to pull. But then he dropped down to one knee, pulled a ring out, looked at you like you were the only person in the world, and asked you to marry him. You said yes, of course.

Your wedding was perfect. You wore a beautiful white gown, form fitting with lace sleeves. Eddie wore a black tux. Gareth was his best man, Robin your maid of honor. It was a pretty small wedding, just your closest family and friends, but it couldn’t have been better. It was everything you’d dreamed of since you met Eddie.

With rockstar-dom came certain expectations, certain…hobbies. You and Eddie had always loved to share a joint or a bowl together, sometimes even fooling around with psychedelics. It was always an amazing time. But with fame came access to anything your heart could ever desire. And Eddie loved the drugs.

It started out slowly. He’d drink himself stupid at the after parties, climb on the bar and throw chairs and get rowdy, get into fights sometimes. He only behaved if you tagged along. But the fans loved him, the guys thought he was a blast. That was just Eddie, wild, just how he was. The life of the party, until he wasn’t.

Coke was the first new thing you ever tried together. Eddie definitely didn’t need to be any more hyped up than he already was on his own, but he loved the stuff. He’d carry the little baggie in his pocket at all times, pouring a little on his hand for a bump when you or he needed a top up. He’d spread fat lines on a mirror in his hotel room, passing you a rolled up $100 dollar bill to let you go first, ever the gentleman. Then you’d fuck like rabbits the whole night, doing more lines whenever you started to come down. For the first time in your lives, you had all the money and all the drugs in the world. The party never had to stop.

Next was pills. Oxy, Xanax, Adderall. Eddie really liked the pills. He always kept some on him, would sneak off to crush one up and snort it if he needed the high extra fast. You didn’t know. You thought they were just for parties. You didn’t know it had become a daily thing, a crutch.

1993, you were 26 years old. Corroded Coffin had been successful for the past few years. Everyone loved them, especially Eddie as the frontman. He knew how to put on a show, knew how to have a good time. You couldn’t go anywhere without being followed by fans and photographers. It threw everything off balance when you found out you were pregnant.

It had been an accident. You were terrified to tell Eddie. You didn’t want to ruin his fun, or get in the way of his dream. But this baby was happening whether you were ready or not. And you knew it was time to get sober. After his show that night, you asked Eddie to come back to the hotel with you instead of going to the after party. He had been reluctant - he loved the after parties - but he agreed. Back in the hotel room, you sat him down, the look on his face completely terrified of whatever you were about to drop on him.

“Eddie…” you had started, holding his ringed hands in yours. “I’m…I’m pregnant.”

His eyes had gone wide. Maybe if you had known then what you knew now, you would have noticed how his pupils were blown. You didn’t even know he was on anything at the time.

“Baby, that’s…” he shook his head, and your heart sunk. He didn’t want this. He didn’t want the baby. “That’s fucking incredible!”

It was your turn to widen your eyes when Eddie stood, pulling you into a tight embrace and lifting you off the ground, spinning you around. “A baby! Wow.”

“You’re not upset?” You asked once he’d sat you back down, a huge grin on his face.

“Upset? Why would I be upset?”

“Because of the band,” you said. “Your freedom.”

“I don’t care about all of that,” he said, hands on either side of your face. “I care about you. I care about this baby.” He lowered a hand to gently caress your stomach. “You’re my whole world. And now my world is about to double,” he laughed. You couldn’t help but return his smile, tears welling in your eyes.

“I’m so happy you’re happy,” you said. “I‘ve always wanted a family with you.”

“Me too.” He placed a gentle kiss on your lips, then started covering your whole face in kisses, making you giggle. “I’m so fucking happy.”

A baby girl, Evelyn “Evie” Grace Munson was born August 1994. She was Eddie’s twin, born with big brown eyes and a head full of dark brown hair that got curlier the longer it grew. She was an angel of a baby, slept perfectly and hardly ever fussed. She was even a well behaved toddler, shy and reserved. She clung to you and Eddie and her Uncles Gareth, Jeff, and Grant.

Eddie’s drug problem ramped up after Evie’s birth. He was still able to hide it, to cover it up with his partying, but it was getting worse. He was starting to take oxy on a regular basis, snorting coke or taking adderall to counteract the downer’s effects. He was pretty much fucked up all the time, but he was functional enough that no one worried. And he did his best to keep it away from you.

After it all, you felt like an idiot for never noticing.

December 1998, you welcomed your second daughter, Rhiannon Raven Munson. She also looked just like Eddie, brown hair and big brown eyes. The Munson genes were strong, apparently. She was a fussier baby, suffering with colic. There were countless sleepless nights walking the halls with her, bouncing her and trying to get her to just sleep.

Evie adjusted to her big sister role perfectly. She loved her new baby sister, even if she wanted to treat her like a doll and push her around in her toy stroller.

After Rhiannon’s birth is when things really spiraled, although you were still oblivious. But the guys started to notice, because he was less careful around them. He started spending more time away from home.

This was when Eddie did heroin for the first time.

It was just snorting it, he didn’t think it was a big deal. But god, the way it made him feel. It was like nothing he’d ever experienced, like he had literally gone to heaven. It was the best thing he’d ever felt in his life.

He never wanted to stop.

Eddie was railing lines before shows, smoking heroin as soon as he got off stage before heading to the after party. You were home alone with the two girls.

He would come home late, long after you and the girls had gone to bed, climbing into bed with you and kissing all over your neck and shoulders until you turned around in his arms, kissing him deeply as he slid his hand beneath your panties.

“My pretty girl,” he’d mumble against your lips, pulling your body into his own. “Gonna make you feel so good tonight.”

Eddie was always incredible in bed, but being hopped up on coke always made him insatiable. He’d fuck your brains out, have his hand held tightly over your mouth to not wake the kids as your eyes rolled back and you came around his cock again and again.

July 2001, Ivy Maeve Munson was born. She was born prematurely and with a congenital heart condition, and spent months in the NICU. You left her side as little as possible, Wayne babysitting the girls while you spent every possible moment at the hospital. She had heart surgery at 3 weeks old, which thankfully went perfectly. Eddie had to leave for band commitments, but spent as much time as he could by your side. He didn’t mention the pills he was popping behind your back, or the heroin he was smoking in the bathroom of the studio.

Things really hit rock bottom after Ivy’s birth. You didn’t know if it was the stress of her health problems or what, but something had changed in Eddie. He wasn’t even trying to hide his drug abuse anymore.

She was only a few months old when he injected heroin for the first time.

The rush was nothing like snorting or smoking it. The first time he did it, with some of his rockstar friends, and the drug hit his veins for the first time, he had never felt happier. Not on his wedding day, not holding his daughters for the first time. It was like there wasn’t a single thing wrong in the world, everyone around him felt like his closest friend, he loved everyone and everything. He was wrapped in the warmest, most comforting hug, his stomach was filled with butterflies like the first time he’d kissed you. Only better.

He slumped over and let it take him.

His addiction became obvious to everyone around him after that. His bandmates first - they’d get into constant arguments over Eddie showing up late too high to play guitar, forgetting the lyrics and slacking off on songwriting and practices. It was getting embarrassing for the whole band when he’d act a fool in public now, usually getting into fights with someone every time before they’d have to drag his passed out form back home.

The first time you found his kit, you confronted him in the living room, throwing it down on the table. “What the fuck is this, Eddie?”

Fear struck into his very soul. “Baby, I-“

“No.” You shook your head. “What the fuck, Eddie?”

“I-I swear I can explain-“

“I don’t think you can.” You looked down at the drugs and paraphernalia, tears in your eyes. “What have you been doing to yourself?”

“It’s just some fun, okay?” He said, hands combing through his curls in his stress. “It’s not a big deal. It’s just some fun.”

“This is heroin, Eddie. There’s needles here.”

Eddie opened his mouth, his hand outstretched like he was going to come up with some excuse, but he really didn’t have one. He dropped his arms to his sides. “I’m sorry.”

You wiped your tears away, angry and scared for your husband. “What if the girls were to see you fucked up on this stuff?”

Emotions swam behind Eddie’s eyes. “That wouldn’t happen. I promise that won’t happen.”

“Because you’re gonna stop, right?”

Eddie didn’t say anything.

“You’re gonna stop, right?”

“I…” Eddie looked around. “Of course I’m gonna stop, baby. I can stop any time, it’s no big deal.”

It was a big deal, and he couldn’t stop. In fact, his addiction only got worse and worse. He started stumbling onto stage doped out of his mind, unable to perform and forcing shows to be cancelled and tickets to be refunded. His public breakdown took over the tabloids, which was humiliating for everyone involved. And despite his promise, he came home high every day. The girls were scared of him like that, they were withdrawing from their father day by day, but he didn’t even know what was going on.

You broke up with him countless times, saying you couldn’t handle it anymore. But he would always come back, banging on the door in the middle of the night, crying and withdrawing and swearing he was done and wouldn’t touch the stuff again. You’d take him back, help him through the sickness, and things would be okay for a week before he’d be right back to it.

The final straw was when you found him shooting up a speedball in the bathroom at the house. You had freaked out - “The girls could have walked in on you! What are you thinking?!” - and Eddie was too doped up to even have a conversation with you. You called Gareth, Jeff, and Grant to come get him, because you were officially done for good.

You found out you were pregnant again after that. It was a complete surprise - Eddie was 37 and you were 36. There had been no plans for more kids. Three kids was a handful, and Eddie was his own shitshow right now. You hadn’t even talked in a week, and last you’d heard he was still heavy on the dope.

The guys were getting sick of him. The band had gone on an indefinite hiatus because Eddie couldn’t get his shit together. Everything he’d dreamed of, everything he worked for was falling from his grasp faster than he knew what to do with. But he still couldn’t put the drugs down.

You showed up at Gareth’s house, walls up as you prepared for the conversation, prepared for the state Eddie would be in when you saw him. Gareth answered the door with a somber expression on his face, and you knew it wouldn’t be good.

“He’s on the couch in the den,” he said.

You were familiar with the house, so you walked down the hall and to the room yourself. Eddie was passed out on the couch, hair a mess, sweaty, dirty clothes he’d probably been in for days. Track marks visible on his strong arms you always loved having wrapped around you.

You nudged him, and he slowly woke up.

“Babe?” He said, voice hoarse. His pupils were constricted, eyes bloodshot. He’d clearly had something recently. His facial hair was scruffy, unkempt. He reached for you, but you pulled away.

“I need to talk to you.”

He sat up on the couch with a groan, rubbing his head. “What…what’s up?”

“I’m pregnant again, Eddie.”

He dropped his hands, looking up at you. “No.”

You pulled the tests out of your hoodie pocket, handing them over. He took them with shaking hands, examining them. “Fuck.”

“Yeah,” you said. “I’m 6 weeks. It’s still early.”

Eddie shook his head. “I can’t- we can’t-“

“I’m giving you an ultimatum.”

His eyes shot up to you. “What?”

“An ultimatum,” you said again. “Either you go to rehab and get clean, for good…or me and the kids are out of your life. For good.”

Eddie’s mouth opened and closed, looking for something to say. “You- you can’t do that.”

“I can,” you said. “And I am. Because this is out of hand, Eddie. You’re an addict. You’re going to kill yourself doing this shit. You’re not 22 anymore. This is sad. It’s sad watching you do this to yourself.” You wiped away a tear. “I love you more than anything, and I’m just watching you destroy yourself.”

Eddie looked up at you sadly. “Please. Please don’t take my kids from me. Please don’t leave me.”

“I have to do this,” you said. You took a deep breath. “If you want to get clean, you know where to find us.”

With that you turned and left the room, leaving Eddie alone with your words. He knew something had to change. He was killing himself with the drugs. But he also didn’t want to stop. He never wanted to stop. They felt too good, made him feel so alive in a way he never did in normal life.

As you drove home, you wondered if Eddie would take your words to heart. You’d broken up with him plenty of times over his drug use in the past three years, and it hadn’t changed anything. Not a damn thing.

If losing his family and his career wasn’t enough to scare him straight, you weren’t sure anything would.

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Kristen Stewart

Uncensored for Rolling Stones

Love Lies Bleeding out in March

[kinascum]

CHARMED ᯓ★

Austin Butler x Reader

wc: 1.7k | summary: y/n, an interviewer at Variety, scores an interview with Austin Butler. | nav - taglist

FLUFF. no major warnings.

You sit in the quiet of the Variety office, surrounded by the soft hum of the air conditioner and the occasional clack of a keyboard echoing through the open-plan space. Your heart beats a little faster than usual today as you prepare for the interview of a lifetime. The email with the subject line "Austin Butler Interview: Confirmed" still sits open on your screen, a stark reminder of the excitement and nerves you've been juggling since you read it. You've done this before, of course, but something about Austin feels different. Maybe it's the way his blue eyes seem to look right into your soul in every magazine cover, or the way his deep voice sends a shiver down your spine when you watch his interviews. You're a journalist with a knack for making even the most guarded celebrities open up, but you're not immune to the charm of Hollywood's golden boys.

The clock ticks closer to the scheduled time, and you stand, smoothing out the wrinkles in your blouse and taking a deep breath to steady your nerves. You've spent hours researching his career, from his early days on the small screen to his breakthrough performance as the king of rock 'n' roll. You've rehearsed your questions, honed them to perfection, and now all that's left is to wait for the moment when he walks through the door.

When he does, it's like the air in the room shifts. He's taller than you expected, with a presence that seems to fill the space around him. He's dressed casually, but it looks like he stepped out of a magazine spread, his jeans fitting just right, and a leather jacket thrown over a simple white tee. His eyes scan the room, and when they land on you, you feel a jolt of energy. He smiles, a genuine, warm smile that reaches his eyes, and you can't help but return it, feeling a little bit like you're melting.

You extend a hand, and he takes it, his grip firm but gentle. His skin is warm, and for a second, you're lost in the sensation of his touch. "Y/N," he says, as if he's known you for years, not minutes. "It's a pleasure to finally meet you." His voice is like a caress, and you blush, hoping it's not too obvious. You've always been a little shy around the people you admire, and the fact that he's looking at you with such kindness isn't helping your nerves.

As you lead him to the interview set, you notice the way his boots scuff the floor, the quiet confidence in his stride. He seems to be at ease in his own skin, a stark contrast to the flurry of activity around you. You offer him a seat and take yours opposite, placing your notebook and pen on the table. You've done this a hundred times before, but today, your hand trembles ever so slightly. You tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, a nervous habit you thought you'd outgrown, and try to remember to breathe. The cameras start to roll, and you're aware of every little detail: the sound of the film crew moving around, the smell of freshly brewed coffee in the background, the way the lights cast a gentle glow on Austin's face.

He leans back in his chair, his gaze never leaving yours. "So," he begins, his voice like a purr. "What's the first question you've been dying to ask me?"

You open your mouth to speak, but the words catch in your throat. You clear it, hoping he doesn't notice, and glance down at your notes. But as you look back up, you realize that the question you've so carefully prepared isn't what you want to ask anymore. There's something about the way he's looking at you, something that makes you feel seen in a way you never have before. And in that moment, you know that this interview is going to be unlike any other.

You take a deep breath and dive in, asking him about his preparation for his latest role, one that's earned him critical acclaim and a slew of award nominations. His eyes light up, and you can almost see the gears turning in his head as he thinks back to those intense days and nights spent becoming someone else. He speaks slowly, thoughtfully, his voice deep and resonant as he recounts the hours of research, the months of practice, the moments of doubt and triumph. You're captivated by his dedication, his passion for his craft shining through every word.

As you listen, you find yourself leaning in, hanging on to every syllable. His words paint a vivid picture of his journey, and you're drawn into the story as if you were there with him. You ask follow-up questions, eager to learn more, and he responds with the same thoughtfulness, never rushing, always choosing his words with care. His honesty is refreshing, and you can't help but admire the way he's handled the pressures of stardom with such grace.

But then his gaze starts lingering on you a beat too long, and when he smiles, it's a smile that says he's not just talking about the movie anymore, and suddenly, the air in the room feels charged with electricity. You blush, your cheeks grow warm, and you feel your heart race in your chest. Your hand fidgets with the pen, and you realize you're playing with your hair again, a nervous habit you thought you'd left behind in high school. But with Austin, you're feeling anything but professional.

He leans closer, his eyes never leaving yours, and asks you a question about your own work, your favorite stories, your dreams. And you find yourself opening up to him, sharing things you never thought you'd say out loud, let alone on camera. His voice is a gentle coax, drawing you out of your shell, making you feel as if you're the most interesting person in the world. And maybe, just maybe, you start to believe it.

The conversation flows like a river, twisting and turning through topics of art, life, and love. His stories are peppered with laughter, and you find yourself smiling more than you ever have in an interview. His hand reaches out, resting on the arm of your chair, and you feel the warmth of his touch seep through the fabric as he pulls your chair closer to his. It's a simple gesture, but it sends a jolt through your body, making you aware of every inch of space between you as you catch a glimpse of how his muscles flex under the studio lights.

You notice the way his fingers tap against the chair, a subtle beat that matches the rhythm of your heart. His eyes, so blue and deep, seem to see right through you, and for a moment, you wonder if he can read your thoughts. You realize you're not just asking questions anymore; you're exchanging glances, sharing silent moments filled with understanding. The chemistry between you is palpable, and the crew seems to have melted into the background, leaving just the two of you in the spotlight.

The interview comes to a close, but the energy between you and Austin doesn't dissipate. As the crew starts to pack up, he lingers, his hand still resting on the arm of your chair. "Thank you," he says, his voice sincere. "That was one of the best interviews I've had in a long time." You blush, feeling a warmth spread through your chest. "Thank you," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. "It was an honor."

He stands, and you follow suit, the space between you closing as you exchange pleasantries about the weather and the traffic. His eyes never leave yours, and you can't help but feel like there's something unspoken hanging in the air. He's charismatic, down-to-earth, and thoughtful—everything you've read about him, but seeing it up close is like experiencing the gravity of a star for the first time. His words come out measured and deliberate, each one chosen with care, as if he's afraid of saying too much or too little.

As you walk him out, the quiet of the office seems to amplify the sound of your shoes on the floor. The lights seem to dim, and the world outside the glass walls fades away. You find yourself lost in the depth of his gaze, the way his eyes seem to dance when he smiles. He pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob, and looks at you with an intensity that makes your knees wobble. "Y/N," he says, and the way he says your name feels like a secret shared between the two of you. "Could I interest you in a drink? To celebrate a successful interview?" His words are followed by a cheeky grin as he addresses you in an overly formal manner.

You're surprised by the invitation, but something in his tone tells you that it's more than just a professional courtesy. You hesitate, your heart racing as you laugh nervously. You've never mixed business with pleasure before, but the way he's looking at you, the way his thumb brushes against the back of your hand as he holds the door open, makes you want to throw caution to the wind. You nod, trying to sound casual. "Sure, I'd love that."

The bar he chooses is dimly lit, the kind of place where whispers are the loudest sounds and secrets feel safe. He orders a whiskey neat, and you ask for a glass of wine. As you sit across from him, you can't help but notice the way the light plays with the shadows on his face, highlighting the sharp line of his jaw, the curve of his lips. He talks about his love for music, the way it's shaped him as a person and an actor, and you listen, enraptured. His passion is contagious, and you find yourself sharing stories from your own life, things you rarely speak of outside of your closest friends.

The conversation flows as easily as the alcohol, and you realize that you're not just talking about work anymore. You're laughing, sharing, connecting in a way you never have with an interview subject. His hand reaches across the table, and he takes yours, his thumb tracing lazy circles on your skin. It's a simple touch, but it feels like a promise, a question, a door opening to something new.

A/N: kinda in a love-hate relationship with this one yall

tell me if yall want to be added to this masterlist's taglist !!🩶🩶🦫

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

The Radio Times magazine from the 29 July-04 August 2023 :)

THE SECOND COMING

How did Terry Pratchett and Neil gaiman overcome the small matter of Pratchett's death to make another series of their acclaimed divine comedy?

For all the dead authors in the world,” legendary comedy producer John Lloyd once said, “Terry Pratchett is the most alive.” And he’s right. Sir Terry is having an extremely busy 2023… for someone who died in 2015.

This week sees the release of Good Omens 2, the second series of Amazon’s fantasy comedy drama based on the cult novel Pratchett co-wrote with Neil Gaiman in the late 1980s. This will be followed in the autumn by a new spin-off book from Pratchett’s Discworld series, Tiffany Aching’s Guide to Being a Witch, co-written by Pratchett’s daughter Rhianna and children’s author Gabrielle Kent. The same month, we’ll also get A Stroke of the Pen, a collection of “lost” short stories written by Sir Terry for local newspapers in the 70s and 80s and recently rediscovered. Clearly, while there are no more books coming from Pratchett – a hard drive containing all drafts and unpublished work was crushed by a vintage steamroller shortly after the author’s death, as per his specific wishes – people still want to visit his vivid and addictive worlds in new ways.

Good Omens 2 will be the first test of how this can work. The original book started life as a 5,000-word short story by Gaiman, titled William the Antichrist and envisioned as a bit of a mashup of Richmal Crompton’s Just William books and the 70s horror classic The Omen. What would happen, Gaiman had mused, if the spawn of Satan had been raised, not by a powerful American diplomat, but by an extremely normal couple in an idyllic English village, far from the influence of hellish forces? He’d sent the first draft to bestselling fantasy author Pratchett, a friend of many years, and then forgotten about it as he busied himself with continuing to write his massively popular comic books, including Violent Cases, Black Orchid and The Sandman, which became a Netflix series last year.

Pratchett loved the idea, offering to either buy the concept from Gaiman or co-write it. It was, as Gaiman later said, “like Michelangelo phoning and asking if you want to paint a ceiling” The pair worked on the book together from that point on, rewriting each other as they went and communicating via long phone calls and mailed floppy discs. “The actual mechanics worked like this: I would do a bit, then Neil would take it away and do a bit more and give it back to me,” Pratchett told Locus magazine in 1991. “We’d mess about with each other’s bits and pieces.”

Good Omens: The Nice and Accurate Prophecies of Agnes Nutter, Witch – to give it its full title –was published in 1990 to huge acclaim. It was one of, astonishingly, five Terry Pratchett novels to be published that year (he averaged two a year, including 41 Discworld novels and many other standalone works and collaborations).

It was also, clearly, extremely filmable, and studios came knocking — though getting it made took a while. rnvo decades on from its writing, four years after Pratchett's death from Alzheimer's disease aged 66, and after several doomed attempts to get a movie version off the ground, Good Omens finally made it to TV screens in 2019, scripted and show-run by Gaiman himself. "Terry was egging me on to make it into television. He knew he was dying, and he knew that I wouldn't start it without him," Gaiman revealed in a 2019 Radio Times interview. Amazon and the BBC co-produced with Pratchett's company Narrativia and Gaiman's Blank Corporation production studios, with Michael Sheen and David Tennant cast in the central roles of Aziraphale the angel and Crowley the demon. The show was a hit, not just with fans of its two creators, but with a whole new young audience, many of whom had no interest in Discworld or Sandman. Social media networks like Tumblr and TikTok were soon awash with cosplay, artwork and fan fiction. The original novel became, for the first time, a New York Times bestseller.

A follow up was, on one level, a no-brainer. The world Pratchett and Gaiman had created was vivid, funny and accessible, and Tennant and Sheen had found an intriguing romantic spark in their chemistry not present in the novel.

There was, however, a huge problem. There wasn't a second Good Omens book to base it on. But there was the ghost of an idea.

In 1989, after the book had been sold but before it had come out, the two authors had laid on fivin beds in a hotel room at a convention in Seattle and, jet-lagged and unable to sleep, plotted out, in some detail, what would happen in a sequel, provisionally titled 668, The II Neighbour of the Beast.

"It was a good one, too" Gaiman wrote in a 2021 blog. "We fully intended to write it, whenever we next had three or four months free. Only I went to live in America and Terry stayed in the UK, and after Good Omens was published, Sandman became SANDMAN and Discworld became DISCWORLD(TM) and there wasn't a good time."

Back in 1991, Pratchett elaborated, "We even know some of the main characters in it. But there's a huge difference between sitting there chatting away, saying, 'Hey, we could do this, we could do that,' and actually physically getting down and doing it all again." In 2019, Gaiman pillaged some of those ideas for Good Omens series one (for example, its final episode wasn't in the book at all), and had left enough threads dangling to give him an opening for a sequel. This is the well he's returned to for Good Omens 2, co-writing with comic John Finnemore - drafted in, presumably, to plug the gap left Pratchett's unparalleled comedic mind. No small task.

Projects like Good Omens 2 are an important proving ground for Pratchett's legacy: can the universes he conjured endure without their creator? And can they stay true to his spirit? Sir Terry was famously protective of his creations, and there have been remarkably few adaptations of his work considering how prolific he was. "What would be in it for me?" he asked in 2003. "Money? I've got money."

He wanted his work treated reverently and not butchered for the screen. It's why Good Omens and projects like Tiffany Aching's Guide to Being a Witch are made with trusted members of the inner circle like Neil Gaiman and Rhianna Pratchett at the helm. It's also why the author's estate, run by Pratchett's former assistant and business manager Rob Wilkins, keeps a tight rein on any licensed Pratchett material — it's a multi-million dollar media empire still run like a cottage industry.

And that's heartening. Anyone who saw BBC America's panned 2021 Pratchett adaptation The Watch will know how badly these things can go when a studio is allowed to run amok with the material without oversight. These stories deserve to be told, and these worlds deserve to be explored — properly. And there are, apparently, many plans afoot for more Pratchett on the screen. You can only hope that, somewhere, he'll be proud of the results.

After all, as he wrote himself, "No one is finally dead until the ripples they cause in the world die away, until the clock wound up winds down, until the wine she made has finished its ferment, until the crop they planted is harvested. The span of someone's life is only the core of their actual existence."

While those ripples continue to spread, Sir Terry Pratchett remains very much alive. MARC BURROWS

DIVINE DUO

An angel and a demon walk into a pub... Michael Sheen and David Tennant on family, friendship and Morecambe & Wise

Outside it's cold winter's day and we're in a Scottish studio, somewhere between Edinburgh and Glasgow. But inside it's lunchtime in The Dirty Donkey pub in the heart of London, with both Michael Sheen and David Tennant surveying the scene appreciatively. "This is a great pub," says Sheen eagerly, while Tennant calls it "the best Soho there can be. A slightly heightened, immaculate, perfect, dreamy Soho."

Here, a painting of the absent landlord — the late Terry Pratchett, co-creator, with Neil Gaiman, of the series' source novel — looms over punters. Around the corner is AZ Fell and Co Antiquarian and Unusual Books. It's the bookshop owned by Sheen's character, the angel Aziraphale, and the place to where Tennant's demon Crowley is inevitably drawn.

It's day 74 of an 80-day shoot for a series that no one, least of all the leading actors, ever thought would happen, due to the fact that Pratchett and Gaiman hadn't ever published any sequel to their 1990 fantasy satire. Tennant explains, "What we didn't know was that Neil and Terry had had plots and plans..."

Still, lots of good things are in Good Omens 2, which expands on the millennia-spanning multiverse of the first series. These include a surprisingly naked side of John Hamm, and roles for both Tennant's father-in-law (Peter Davison) and 21-year-old son Ty. At its heart, though, remains the brilliant banter between the two leading men — as Sheen puts it, "very Eric and Ernie !" — whose chemistry on the first series led to one of the more surprising saviours of lockdown telly.

Good Omens is back — but you've worked together a lot in the meantime. Was there a connective tissue between series one of Good Omens and Staged, your lockdown sitcom?

David: Only in as much as the first series went out, then a few months later, we were all locked in our houses. And because of the work we'd done on Good Omens, it occurred that we might do something else. I mean, Neil Gaiman takes full responsibility for Staged. Which, to some extent, he's probably right to do!

Michael: We've got to know each other through doing this. Our lives have gotten more entwined in all kinds of ways — we have children who've now become friends, and our families know each other.

There have been hints of a romantic storyline between the two characters. How much of an undercurrent is that in this series.

David: Nothing's explicit.

Michael: I felt from the very beginning that part of what would be interesting to explore is that Aziraphale is a character, a being, who just loves. How does that manifest itself in a very specific relationship with another being? Inevitably, as there is with everything in this story, there's a grey area. The fact that people see potentially a "romantic relationship", I thought that was interesting and something to explore.

There was a petition to have the first series banned because of its irreverent take on Christian tropes. Series two digs even more deeply into the Bible with the story of Job. How much of a badge of honour is it that the show riles the people who like to ban things?

David: It's not an irreligious show at all. It's actually very respectful of the structure of that sort of religious belief. The idea that it promotes Satanism [is nonsense]. None of the characters from hell are to be aspired to at all! They're a dreadful bunch of non-entities. People are very keen to be offended, aren't they? They're often looking for something to glom on to without possibly really examining what they think they're complaining about.

Michael, you're known as an activist, and you're in the middle of Making BBC drama The Way, which "taps into the social and political chaos of today's world". Is it important for you to use your plaform to discuss causes you believe in?

Michael: The Way is not a political tract, it's just set in the area that I come from. But it has to matter to you, doesn't it? More and more as I get older, [I find] it can be a real slog doing this stuff. You've got to enjoy it. And if it doesn't matter to you, then it's just going to be depressing.

David, Michael has declared himself a "not-for-profit" actor. Has he tried to persuade you to give up all your money too?

David: What an extraordinary question! One is always aware that one has a certain responsibility if one is fortunate and gets to do a job that often doesn't feel like a job. You want to do your bit whenever you can. But at the same time, I'm an actor. I'm not about to give that up to go into politics or anything. But I'll do what I can from where I live.

Well, your son and your father-in-law are also starring in this series. How about that, jobs for the boys!

David: I know! It was a delight to get to be on set with them. And certainly an unexpected one for me. Neil, on two occasions, got to bowl up to me and say, "Guess who we've cast?!"

How do you feel about your US peers going on strike?

David: It's happening because there are issues that need to be addressed. Nobody's doing this lightly. These are important issues, and they've got to be sorted out for the future of our industry. There's this idea that writers and actors are all living high on the hog. For huge swathes of our industry, that's just not the case. These people have got to be protected.

Michael: We have to be really careful that things don't slide back to the way they were pre the 1950s, when the stories that we told were all coming from one point of view and the stories of certain people, or communities within our society, weren't represented. There's a sense that now that's changed for ever and it'll never go back. But you worry when people can't afford to have the opportunities that other people have. We don't want the story that we tell about ourselves to be myopic. You want it to be as inclusive as possible

Staged series 3 recently broadcast. It felt like the show's last hurrah — or is there more mileage? Sheen and Tennant go on holiday?

David: That's the Christmas special! One Foot in the Algarve! On the Buses Go to Spain!

Michael: I don't think we were thinking beyond three, were we?

So is it time for a conscious uncoupling for you two — Eric and Ernie say goodbye?

David: Oh, never say never, will we?

Michael: And it's more Hinge and Bracket.

David: Maybe that's what we do next — The Hinge and Bracket Story. CRAIG McLEAN