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thicccshady · 19 days ago

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Stock Up For My Bitches (Relax Part Two)🍫

Eminem X Reader

✨️MasterList✨️

PART ONE Relax

Content: Fluff, Cursing, New Relationship

Marshall slouched into the interview chair like it personally offended him. His eyes half-lidded in deliberate disinterest as the interviewer clasped her hands together with a too-sunny smile. Marshall shifted in his chair. How the hell are you supposed to comfortably sit in a director-style chair? His fingers lightly drummed on his legs as he waited for the sound crew to finish adjusting equipment. The woman sat across from him wore a cheesy smile, showing a few too many teeth. The interview had just started, but he found her irritating beyond belief. Her well-rehearsed questions seemed to lack any depth. Maybe he was just tired of interviews altogether.

The studio crew moved around quietly, clearly wary of the tension. Marshall’s energy could flip like a switch, and today, he looked like he was ready to burn the whole place down just for fun.

“Alrighty! Are we ready to continue?” She looked towards the crew waiting for confirmation. Somehow her smile widened even more. Marshall secretly wondered how little it would take for her smile to practically reach her earlobes.

“Eminem, fans are absolutely ecstatic for this Friday’s album release. Your Slim Shady persona has been the target of controversy the past few years. Should we expect to see more of his infamous behavior or has Slim settled down.”

Marshall remained deadpan almost bored, “Shady will be Shady. I’m not gonna change my style or whatever. I mean, anyone who hears an Eminem tape should know what they are getting into. It’s like, I’m not going to censor my music to keep people happy. You don’t like it, don’t’ listen. It’s like, if I don’t like you, I won’t fucking listen either, you know what I mean. I don’t really give a fuck.” He licked his lips and started up again, “Someone has to be a role model for the kids. Y’know what I mean?”

“Yes, well. How about we shift gears.�� The interviewers shuffled through some notecards. Pausing her expression grew mischievous. She flipped around a photo for Marshall to see. “It seems you did some shopping the other day. Your unique selection of groceries has left fans wondering, who could those feminine products and chocolate be for?”

Without missing a beat, Marshall clearly answered, “Those are for me. And Dre has a sweet tooth. Gets grumpy without his sugar. And I was low on wings, you know what I mean?” Clearly amused with himself he gestured with his hands like a bird flying away.

The interviewer chuckled slightly, uncomfortable. “You bought those pads for yourself?”

“What? I gotta be prepared. Shit happens quickly.” After a brief pause, he continued to troll her, “I can’t buy fucking pads? You think Slim Shady doesn’t deserve to feel fresh and protected? Shit… that’s discrimination.”

Her face almost glitching, the interviewer was determined to get a big secret out of Marshall, “Seriously, Eminem-“

“Nah, fine. You got me.” She leaned closer into his words. “I like to stock up for my bitches y’know. I’m just thoughtful like that.” He turned towards the camera making eye contact with the lens. “Ladies, if you bleed on my couch, you will get fucked up. Alright… No bleeding.” He continued staring. His eyes appeared ready to pop out of his head.

The interviewer cleared her throat. “What everyone wants to know is, do you have someone special in your life.”

“My right hand.” Marshall almost smiled but caught himself.

At home, Y/N sat curled up on the couch, her face buried in a pillow as she cringed at the TV. "Oh… my god, Marshall..." she muttered, though she couldn’t stop laughing. Apparently, modern chivalry meant making a dickhead of yourself on national television. She couldn’t wait for Marshall to come over later.

---

Later that day, Y/N heard a knock a familiar knock on the door, a unique knock Marshall always did when he came over. “Come in!” she shouted from the couch. The door creaked open, and Marshall stepping inside, was still grinning, the adrenaline from the interview still coursing through him. His hood was up, and his eyes had that glint of mischief that was all too familiar.

As soon as he stepped into the room, Y/N looked up from her book, her eyes lighting up at the sight of him.

“Hey, you,” she said, smiling warmly. "How do you feel that went?" She sat up a little and sat down her book. "Sounded like a nice Slim Shady interview from what I caught on TV. Although I always pegged him as a tampon type of gal.”

He rolled his eyes, his grin widening as he dropped onto the couch next to her. “Mm, you know how it is. Same old shit.” He nudged her gently, his voice dropping into a mock-serious tone. “Got ‘em all convinced I’m some sort of ladies’ man now.”

Y/N laughed, her eyes glinting with humor. “Oh, really? So, who are all these bitches you bring home, huh?” she teased, arching an eyebrow.

Marshall froze for a second, his mind briefly spinning, the question catching him off guard. He hadn’t expected her to bring this up—hell, they hadn’t even really talked about what they were, what this was between them. He had no idea how to respond. His usual response to awkwardness was humor, but for some reason, this one felt different.

Without saying a word, he pointed to the reflection in the living room mirror, where they both appeared, Y/N’s head resting comfortably on his shoulder. He didn’t need to say anything more—he let his gesture speak for itself.

Y/N blinked, her heart fluttering in her chest at the quiet, unspoken answer. Taken aback for a moment, neither of them spoke. Her eyes flicked between him and their reflection. Her smile softened. The teasing in her eyes faded into something more complex. “Just me, huh?” she asked quietly, her voice tinged with something more vulnerable than usual.

Marshall nodded slowly, his hand brushing against hers, his earlier bravado fading into something more sincere. "Yah. Just you." He swallowed hard, suddenly feeling the weight of the moment. It was like they were both seeing something clearer now, a realization settling in that neither of them had dared to voice before.

Y/N swallowed, the lightheartedness from before slipping away. She shifted slightly, her fingers intertwining with his. “So, what is this, then? What are we doing, Marshall?” The words felt heavy, and for the first time in a while, she wasn’t sure where they stood. Were they just casually hanging out, or was there more to it? She needed to know, needed clarity, but the words didn’t come out easily. “I know you like to keep things light, keeps it casual. And I… I’ve been kinda the same. But after everything... the way you’ve been with me, the stuff you did today... I just—”

“I know,” Marshall interrupted softly, his voice a little quieter than usual. He sat staring ahead for a moment, as if the answer was hiding on the wall. “I don’t know. We’ve been goin’ on dates for a while, and I’m not gonna lie, it’s… it’s been different, I guess? But I never really thought about what that meant. Not that I didn’t wanna think about it,” he added quickly, looking at her now, his eyes meeting hers for the first time in a while. “It’s just, you know, with everything else... shit gets complicated.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his honesty, but the uncertainty was still there, lingering in the air like an invisible weight. “So, we’re not—" She hesitated. “We’re not exclusive, then? I mean, you don’t even know if you want to be... Marshall, what are we doing here?”

He sighed, running his hand over his face, frustration creeping into his voice. “I don’t know what I want. I’ve been trying to figure it out, okay? I’m not good at this shit. But I know I want you, Y/N. I just... I don’t know how to fucking say it without sounding like a damn idiot.”

Y/N bit her lip, feeling the tension building between them, she moved her hand away from his. The awkwardness of the conversation made everything feel rawer, more real. “That doesn’t make you an idiot, Marshall. It’s just... we’ve been having fun, and I like you a lot, but I don’t know where I stand. I don’t wanna be just someone you come to when it’s convenient.”

He stared at her for a moment, his usual dry humor gone, replaced with something much more serious. “Look, I get it. I’m not the best at... fuck, whatever we’re calling this, but I don’t want anyone else. If you’re asking if I want to see other people, the answer’s no. I’ve been trying to figure it out—trying to figure this all out, really—but you’re the only one I want.” The honesty of Marshalls words seemed to surprise himself.

Y/N let out a breath she didn’t realize she was holding. The awkwardness hadn’t gone away, but the tension had shifted. “So, that’s it then?” she asked quietly. “You and me, exclusive?”

Marshall nodded slowly, the weight of his words sinking in. “Yeah. I think so. I mean, we don’t have to call it anything if you don’t want to. But... I’m done with the whole game. It’s just you, if you want it.”

She studied him for a moment, her lips curling into a small, soft smile. Sliding closer to him, the space between them disappeared. “I want it,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Marshall leaned in slowly, his eyes meeting hers, a hint of the usual mischief returning to his face. “Yeah?” He raised an eyebrow, testing the waters. “So you’re officially my bitch?”

Y/N chuckled, the awkwardness slipping away just a little. “Nah, I think that interview proves you’re my bitch.” She reached out and pulled him closer, kissing him gently on the lips. Her chest tightened with emotion. She cupped his face gently, her thumb brushing against his cheek. “You’re such an idiot,” she teased lightly, but there was a depth in her words. “But you’re a sweet idiot.”

A genuine smile spread across his face, and he leaned forward, his forehead resting against hers. “Just me and you?”

Y/N nodded, the certainty in her heart echoing in her voice. “Just us. And I’ll take it, Marshall. All the messy, complicated, weird parts of you... and maybe I’ll even buy some pads and chocolate for you.”

Marshall snorted, his smile widening. “Oh, trust me. I’m never forgettin’ that again. You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, Y/N.” Pulling away to look at her, Marshall breathed out a relieved laugh. “You know, you make me sound like a shithead.”

Y/N smiled, her hand now resting on his chest. “I’ll make you a deal,” she said softly. “If you keep being honest with me, we’ll be alright.”

Marshall’s grin widened, the tension in his body finally easing. “Deal.” He whispered. Marshall shifted his head to rest against hers, the familiar weight of her presence settling him in a way he hadn’t expected. “Yeah,” he murmured, his voice softer than usual. “Yeah, we’re gonna be alright.”

✨️Want to know when I post? Click here to join my taglist!✨️

A/N: Big shoutout to @tomdayaloveforever for the inspiration for this! I'll admit, releasing this before Your Biggest Fan Part 2 was diabolical of me. I hear y'all. It is coming so so soon! <3

@crazycat-ladys-blog@ @tomdayaloveforever@ @4-ln4@ @hereforfun-31@ @watercolorskyy@ @anjee0@ @80sprincess1@ @sweetmusicvoid@ @viktoriya2008@ @confiaenanaa@ @nebulamorada@ @darkstarfishbird@

#eminem #eminem x reader #marshall mathers #marshall mathers x reader #slim shady #slim shady x reader #x reader

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holly-opal · 9 months ago

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Please more mr puzzles x Reader !

Yes sir

You always enjoyed television, ever since you were a young child, you would dream of acting in movies. So far though, you have been rejected by multiple studios for "not being good enough ". You grew depressed for a while, and you lost the motivation to do art. One day, as you were walking in an alley way, you got taken by someone with long ass arms and took you inside a studio. You panicked. Great, the Italian Mafia caught up with you and now you're going to get your ass whooped for stealing their spaghetti. To your surprise (and relief) that it was actually someone else. A tall man with a TV for a head. He extended his hand for you to shake, a very polite gesture.

"Hello, my good friend! My name is Mr. Puzzles, pleasure to meet you! And your name is?" His voice was very loud and bombastic, his energetic was through the roof, his hand was shaking super fast, which made you very dizzy. You managed to utter out your name, and he smiled widely. He practically dragged you onto a set. The kind you'd find on TV sitcoms. He set you on the stage and sat on a director chair, he snapped his fingers and the spotlight was on you now. He was waiting expectantly, his legs crossed and a hand on his... TV chin. You were confused, and asked him what he wanted.

"Act! Dance! Sing! Just impress me!" He said with a giant smile on his face. You were pretty nervous. You have to make a great impression, you didn't wanna get murdered after all. So you take a deep breath, and start sing. Your voice was so delicate and breathtaking, it was fantastic and mesmerizing to any ears nearby. Mr. Puzzles stopped smiling. He wasn't angry or anything, he was just... Shocked. In all his years of watching television, he had never heard a voice so beautiful. And he started to observe your looks now, and my god, you looked like an angel to him. You were the most gorgeous being he had ever seen, and he watched all the movies with Margot Robbie in them! Once you were finished, you noticed that he wasn't smiling anymore and was just staring at you. You grew more anxious by the minute and laughed nervously, not knowing what to do. Mr. Puzzles had no words, he started stuttering and muttering nonsense, he couldn't take your voice out of his head! He got up and started clapping and cheering, you could see tears in his eyes. He ran up and hugged you, you were shocked but hugged him back. "Thank you! You are just the right person for me! You were stunning! Absolutely stunning! Be here tomorrow at 10 in the morning, with your gorgeous voice and even more gorgeous face, this show will be fantastic!" He said with enthusiasm. You blushed from his complements and smiled, you left in a good mood. You were now going to be a star!

#mr puzzles x reader #mr puzzles #smg4 mr puzzles #smg4

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dr-spencer-reids-queen · 9 months ago

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On Air

Pairing: Jennifer Jareau x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~700

Warnings: fluff

Summary: You're the news anchor for all things crime, and you often cover the cases your girlfriend's team works on. she is always watching you when you're on TV, so you take every opportunity to make sure she knows who she's going home to.

Square Filled: “it’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm.” for @anyfandomgoesbingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

You use the small compact mirror you have at your desk to check your makeup before you go on air. You’ve done this a million and one times but you’re always so nervous because you don’t want to mess up. One of your coworkers got fired because he screwed up badly on air. You’re not saying you’re going to cuss out a news reporter but that doesn’t make you any less worried about it.

Your phone rings and you turn it over so you can see the screen. You will always have your phone with me because you never know if it’ll be an emergency. Your sister has young kids so you need it on you at all times just in case.

JJ: I know you’re on in a few minutes. Kill it!

You smile at the sweet message from your girlfriend. She always watches your news broadcast since you cover all things crime. You’re the person who usually releases things before the press gets a hold of the information if she doesn’t request a press conference herself.

“Alright! We’re on in ten!” the producer says.

You place your phone face down and fix your hair just as the director points to you to begin talking. One of the weather girls had just got done with her segment which means it’s now your turn.

“Thank you for that update, Lucy. Over the past two weeks, there have been a string of murders where the killer has removed the hearts of all his victims only to leave behind a toy heart in its place. We are unsure of where the real heats are located as they have never been found, so we urge the public to be cautious when leaving their house. The FBI has been called in to assist local police on this investigation, and they’re making headways into potential suspects. Their names haven’t been released to the public as of yet, but as soon as we know more, that information will be available to the public.”

You and your co-anchor talk more about the case but there is so little information to go off of. JJ and her team are working hard to try and put together a profile that can be released to the public, but nothing has come forth yet. Aside from this major news update, there isn’t much in the crime world that needs to be televised at this time. So, you’re back in front of your makeup mirror in no time to do some touch-ups before you go on air again.

Your phone rings and you smile when you see JJ’s picture pop up on screen. You took that picture when you two were on a friend’s boat for an afternoon on the sea, and the sun hit her eyes at the right moment. They are so blue but in the sunlight, they sparkle.

“It’s amazing how quickly things can go from bad to total shit storm around here,” you answer the phone.

“Why are you teasing me?”

Her voice is low which makes you think she’s in a room with her teammates.

“What do you mean?” you smile.

“The button on your shirt is open. I can practically see the pretty pink lace bra you’re wearing underneath it.”

You look down and see that she’s right. It must have come undone from the time you left the makeup chair in the morning to when you sat down at the news anchor desk.

“Oh, would you look at that. You’re right, it is undone.”

“When you do have to go on again?”

“Not for another hour.”

“Good. I’m coming over.”

“Why? Don’t you have to put together a strong profile to catch the bad guy?” you bite your lip to hide your smile.

“I’m not a profiler. I’m the liaison. That’s their job, not mine.”

“So, this visit you want to make isn’t a social call?”

“Not in the slightest.”

Someone comes into the makeup room and knocks on the door to get your attention.

“There’s been another murder. You’re on again.”

“Looks like you’re going to be busy,” you say into the phone while nodding to the man. “I gotta go but I’ll make sure to give you a good view. I love you. Bye-bye.”

You hang up the phone and unbutton one more button that makes the shirt look more open but still looking professional. After all, you have a job to do and you’re going to make sure JJ knows what she’s coming home to at the end of the day.

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

#jennifer jareau #jennifer jareau x reader #jennifer jareau fic #jennifer jareau fanfiction #jennifer jareau fanfic #jennifer jareau fluff #jennifer jareau fiction #jennifer jareau fan fiction #jennifer jareau fan fic #criminal minds #criminal minds fic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fluff #cm #cm fic #cm fanfiction #cm fanfic #cm fluff

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biapascal · 15 days ago

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Nap.

Authors' Note: Good morning everyone ☕️🤎I wanted to write about Dad! Pedro for a while (please don't let this flop lmao)

Summary: Pedro loves his daughter Bianca, but he also loves acting, and as a single father trying to make it in the industry isn't easy.

Warnings: fluff <3

· · ────── ·𖥸· ────── · ·

No matter how many times it happened, Pedro was never at peace after being rejected at an audition. This role would provide him with economic stability, and once again he had been cast against a younger, more attractive man.

The expenses were many: Bianca's schooling, babysitting and rent, plus extra purchases.

He could have borrowed, but his pride forbade it. Bianca had turned the room upside down, playing with dolls and making a lot of noise. Pedro tried to study the script for the next show in the living room, but the little girl kept cackling. The man sighed and rubbed his temples as Bianca rolled down the hall. Every day was like this: he would have liked to finish rehearsals with the other actors, but he had to return early to pick up his daughter from kindergarten.

Besides, for at least three months he could not afford to call the babysitter, so he would have no alternative for a while. "DAD!" He pretended not to hear her, but the little girl ran into the living room and jumped into his arms, crumpling the pages of the script. "Bianca! You can't jump on me like that!" he scolded her.

She giggled. "I'm serious, look what you've done” he showed her the script, and she lay on her stomach, her arm protruding from the sofa. Bianca was almost four years old and had given him a lot to do: she was a lively child, but at the same time shy. She followed him everywhere and had to cheer her on to greet others.

She was witty, creative, and had inherited a passion for movies; there were many evenings when Pedro would order a pizza and they would share it on the bed in front of the television, which would horrify any professional child educator. The truth was that he had no idea how to be a father on his own and relied on the actions that received the most positive feedback.

Bianca already had a strong and stubborn character, but he found it hard to take it out on her, and when it happened that she cried because of an ordinary sermon, he felt his heart clench and wished he could go back and apologize to her, even though it would not have been the appropriate thing to do.

Aesthetically, she was becoming a squashed copy of Elisa; the same nose covered with a sprinkling of freckles, the same dimples in the same position, the shape of the face, and even the facial expressions. It hurt.

Pedro had overcome the despair of abandonment and felt only anger.

"Honey?" Bianca raised her head lazily, fiddling with the rubber bands on her wrists. "I can't let Margaret stay with you for the afternoon this month, so I'm asking you to be good and come to the theater with me” he asked her softly. She smiled back and he softened by gently tousling her hair. The boys loved her, and when she arrived at the rehearsal, she stayed quietly on one of the chairs in the stalls, painting.

"Pedro, let's go over that line again," the man nodded. "So," he cleared his throat.

“Well, Horace? .... You are pale and trembling....

What do you say now? You must have convinced yourself

that it was more than our imagination." He concentrated. "I swear to God, I would never have believed it

without the physical, tangible evidence

of my eyes..." he waited for the approval of the theater director, who looked at him intently.

"Doesn't he look like the king?

" "As you yourself.

And his armor was the same armor

that the king wore when he clashed

with Norway; and the threatening countenance

was that of the king when, enraged,

jumped down from his sledge

the Poles, in the course of a dispute....

It's strange, very strange. He continued.

"Well, well," the director rubbed his hands together. "And bravo, my Horace, you finally got the character!" he exclaimed with satisfaction. Pedro smiled with a child's enthusiasm.

"Come on guys, go rest, it's late".

The actors and actresses took their things and Pedro noticed that Bianca had fallen asleep. He sighed and slowly picked her up, being careful not to wake her. "How good she is" complimented Lisa, one of the actresses. He smiled at her. "Hopefully, she’s a sleepy head” he chuckled softly. "Well, we are are having a drink” the woman informed him. "Oh, well” he pursed his lips in embarrassment. "You know, I'd love to, but..." he lowered his eyes to Bianca, who was sleeping peacefully in his arms. Lisa patted his shoulder. "Don't worry, I'll see you tomorrow” there was pity in her tone.

"Yes, tomorrow..."

#pedro pascal fanfiction #dad!pedropascal #pedro pascal #pedro pascal fandom #narcos fanfiction #marcus acacius #joel tlou

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nitrateglow · 15 days ago

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Favorite films discovered in 2024

This year, I focused more on rewatching films I hadn't seen in a long time rather than racking up new titles. However, I still encountered plenty of new faves, many of them movies that have been on my watchlist for years. Here are the top twenty.

But first, some interesting patterns in this year's list...

Most represented decade: 1960s

Earliest film represented: 1932

Newest film represented: 1999

Creatives who show up more than once: Robert Mulligan, Walter Matthau, Boris Karloff

The Window (dir. Ted Tetzlaff, 1949)

A young boy (Bobby Driscoll) living in a squalid NYC apartment building witnesses his neighbors (Paul Stewart and Ruth Roman) committing a murder. Unfortunately, the kid's penchant for tall tales prevent anyone from believing him-- except for the killers, eager to alleviate themselves of an inconvenient witness.

Precious few thrillers earn the moniker “Hitchcockian” as well as this intense little gem from RKO. The Hitchcock vibes make sense when you consider Hitchcock’s cinematographer from Notorious was in the director’s chair and the source material was written by Cornell Woolrich, also responsible for the short story behind Rear Window. Augmented by on-location photography of New York City and a grimy, desolate sense of urban decay, The Window is both a great suspense yarn and classic film noir. Despite having a kid for a lead character, the film pulls no punches: both its small-time crook villains and the city setting feel palpably dangerous.

My Neighbors the Yamadas (dir. Isao Takahata, 1999)

The Yamadas, an average middle-class Japanese family, navigate the perils of sharing a television set, a kid going missing during a shopping trip, awkward wedding speeches, and other misadventures.

Between the original Studio Ghibli directorial duo of Hayao Miyazaki and Isao Takahata, Miyazaki will always be the more popular filmmaker, but I think Takahata’s films are more intellectually and emotionally rewarding. This is not meant as a hit on Miyazaki’s undeniable greatness, but Takahata’s movies are far more challenging. That being said, My Neighbors the Yamadas is a lighter entry in his filmography, a slice of life comedy about the eponymous family and their shenanigans in modern Japan. However, beneath the whimsical humor runs an undercurrent of melancholy, an awareness of the transience of life in both its lovely and absurd moments. To date, it gets my vote for the most underrated Ghibli film.

A New Leaf (dir. Elaine May, 1971)

After squandering his ample inheritance, a middle-aged New York layabout (Walter Matthau) decides to marry an eccentric botanist (Elaine May) for her money then murder her ASAP.

Elaine May only directed a few films, but the two I’ve seen—this and the long-maligned Ishtar—were a lot of fun. A New Leaf is the better film though, far more focused and consistently funny. I don't usually belly laugh when watching a movie at home alone, but I did several times here. Even just thinking about some of the things that happen in this film can make me start laughing again. I understand the existing version was not May’s preferred cut and she felt it was butchered by the studio. Even so, this is a great movie regardless of that and one I really want to rewatch soon.

Cash on Demand (dir. Quentin Lawrence, 1961)

Uptight, unpleasant bank manager Harry Fordyce (Peter Cushing) is the boss from hell to his employees, but to criminal extraordinaire Gore Hepburn (Andre Morrel), he's the key to a successful heist. Posing as an insurance representative to get access to Fordyce's office, Hepburn tells the manager he's holding his wife and child, whose lives will be forfeit if he doesn't help him relieve the bank of ninety thousand pounds.

Ho, ho, ho, guess who's got a new Christmas classic to enjoy every year? Cash on Demand is not only a strangely enervating riff on A Christmas Carol's basic set-up (a miserable man is spiritually redeemed through an encounter with ghosts-- or in this case, bank robbers), but it's one of the best, tightest one-location thrillers I have ever seen. I genuinely had no idea where the story was going and found myself in absolute agony as the noose grew tighter around our protagonist's neck. It's a testament to both the writing and Peter Cushing's detailed, very human performance that this film is the emotionally powerful piece of work that it is, and not just a fun, clockwork heist yarn.

Letter from an Unknown Woman (dir. Max Ophuls, 1948)

While trying to evade a duel, an aging playboy (Louis Jordan) receives a letter from a dying woman (Joan Fontaine) who claims he was the love of her life. The letter recounts the details of their love affair, which was the centerpiece of this woman's life and only a mere erotic interlude in his.

The best way to describe this movie is lush romantic melodrama married to a bitter, emotionally brutal tale of a life wasted. The movie is heartbreaking but beautifully shot and performed. I’m not always the biggest fan of Fontaine, but she is fantastic here. Also, I need to watch more Max Ophuls.

Sudden Fear (dir. David Miller, 1952)

A middle-aged playwright (Joan Crawford) thinks she’s found love with a would-be matinee idol (Jack Palance)—instead she realizes she’s being targeted by her new hubby, who only wants her wealth. But he mistakes her emotional vulnerability for a lack of discernment—and a lack of desire to get even.

I like my women-in-peril thrillers when they feature clever heroines driven to survive whatever nightmare their antagonists throw at them and Sudden Fear is amazing in this regard. I know everyone loves Joan Crawford best in Mildred Pierce, but I was floored by her performance here, especially in the dialogue-free scenes. There are campy moments (which I adore), but the story is emotionally compelling and I not only wanted Joan's character to survive, but to thrive post-shitty marriage.

Thieves Like Us (dir. Robert Altman, 1974)

Young lovers Bowie (Keith Carradine) and Keechie (Shelley Duvall) yearn for a white picket fence, a quiet porch, and a case of Cokes (probably because that's all they drink in this film). Too bad Bowie is an escaped convict tied up with bank robbers. Too bad it's the Great Depression. At least there's plenty Coke. Want a Coke?

Most films set in the past do not as painstakingly recreate bygone worlds as strongly as Thieves Like Us. Set in Depression era Mississippi, this film captures the harsh, bleak reality and romantic, consumerist fantasies of its star-cross’d leads, played with sensuous naivete by Keith Carradine and the late, great Shelley Duvall. This is more than just yet another Bonnie and Clyde riff—it’s a tragedy about the elusive American Dream, with snippets of radio music, programs, and ads acting as a Greek chorus in a truly inspired touch. Robert Altman can be an acquired taste, but this is easily my favorite of his films to date.

Targets (dir. Peter Bogdanovich, 1968)

The paths of an aging horror star (Boris Karloff) and a psychotic mass shooter (Tim O'Kelly) cross at a drive-in theater.

Targets was not what I expected: it's a threeway character study between the disheartened horror star, the psychotic shooter, and 1960s America itself. To be honest, you could remake this movie now with a former ‘80s slasher star making the same musings and it would still seem credible—but then of course, you wouldn’t have Karloff in one of the best performances of his career. Targets is rendered even more chilling by its docudrama style. The violence shown isn’t sensationalistic, but presented in clinical detail, making it feel more authentic. Gorier films haven’t frightened me as much as this slow-burn character study.

Losing Ground (dir. Kathleen Collins, 1982)

Despite finding pleasure in research and theory, philosophy professor Sara Rogers (Seret Scott) envies the escatic nature of her painter husband, Victor (Bill Gunn). Their difference in temperaments and Victor's adulterous straying also strain the marriage. However, once Sara takes a job performing a sensuous, emotional role in a student film to get in touch with her own artistic side, Victor grows suspicious and jealous in turn.

Losing Ground was sold to me as a film about a crumbling marriage, but it's more than that. It might be more accurate to call it a portrait of self-discovery, a woman extending beyond her comfort zone to live more fully. I found myself strongly relating to Sara-- like her, I have a creative side I've often been timid to share, being more comfortable with the mind than the body. Being an independent film, it eschews the Hollywood histrionics and melodrama that would normally accompany this subject matter and it's paced perfectly at 90 minutes. Though filmed in the early '80s, the film only played the film festival circuit and never enjoyed a proper theatrical release. Only in 2015 was it rediscovered and then released on home video. The director Kathleen Collins died young, but this film stands a testament to her passion and talent.

Cactus Flower (dir. Gene Saks, 1969)

A middle-aged dentist (Walter Matthau) who poses as a married man to fend off romantic commitment decides to buckle down and wed his much younger girlfriend (Goldie Hawn, looking like a mod Tinker Bell). However, when she insists on speaking with his made-up wife, he recruits his no-nonsense nurse (Ingrid Bergman) into the charade.

Cactus Flower is what I often call a transitional film: released in the late ‘60s, it has one foot in the classical style of Old Hollywood and another in the more liberated counterculture that was shooting out hits like Easy Rider and The Graduate. Directed with unexciting competence by Gene Saks, Cactus Flower’s success largely comes from Ingrid Bergman, Goldie Hawn, and Jack Weston. Bergman I could watch in anything, so I’m biased perhaps, but she walks the fine line between funny and touching as the lonely woman who finds emotional liberation through her roleplaying. The scene where she gets groovy on the dance floor is a highlight of her entire screen career and no, I AM NOT KIDDING.

The Black Room (dir. Roy William Neill, 1935)

Two aristocratic brothers (both Boris Karloff) are at odds over the love of a young woman (Marian Marsh) and an ancient prophecy forecasting the end of their bloodline.

Boris Karloff dives into a double role in this deliciously gothic melodrama. Columbia pulled out all the stops for this one: it drips with sumptuous set design and expressionistic lighting. I was particularly taken by this film’s slightly tongue-in-cheek approach to a more 18th century mode of gothic terror. It goes for full-blooded melodrama with its innocent maidens, secret dungeons, lecherous villain, and ancient curses. It’s as close to a 1930s Castle of Otranto adaptation as we’ve got and by God, I'm grateful for its existence.

Freud: The Secret Passion (dir. John Huston, 1962)

In the late 1880s, young psychiatrist Sigmund Freud (Montgomery Clift) probes into the inner lives of his "hysterical" patients to discover the roots of their mental illnesses. However, these journeys into the subconscious worlds of others bring him into uncomfortable contact with his own demons.

Listening to a podcast episode on John Houston’s Key Largo led me to works of his I hadn’t heard of, such as Freud. I was initially skeptical it could be good. Biopics are my least favorite genre, but this film isn’t so much a biopic as a psychological drama in which Freud is the protagonist and some of his ideas are illustrated through his interactions with the other characters. Instead of wasting time being some melodrama ABOUT Freud the man (the route most biopics go regarding their subjects), it’s about his theories and philosophy, which is a far more interesting approach. The result is a probing, intellectual work. I’m not sure how close Montgomery Clift’s characterization is to the real Freud, but the real star of the show is Houston’s direction, a resurrection of German expressionist aesthetics blended with stark realism.

Paris is Burning (dir. Jennie Livingston, 1990)

This documentary covers 1980s NYC ball culture, where Black and Latino members of the LGBT+ community vogue and perform.

Documentaries are not usually my thing, but Paris is Burning was a longtime resident of my watchlist and I am glad I finally got around to seeing it. It has a time capsule quality, capturing a long-vanished 1980s New York City and the LGBT+ community living there at the time. Obviously, there is a lot of meditation on gender identity, sexuality, and the importance of community in a world hostile to your very existence, but I was also interested by the film's presentation of the materialism and consumption of the Reagan era.

Candyman (dir. Bernard Rose, 1992)

A graduate student (Virginia Madsen) studying urban myths unwittingly summons the Candyman (Tony Todd), the hook-handed ghost of a Black painter who was lynched decades ago.

I expected fun slasher nonsense and instead got a gorgeous, unsettling, modern gothic masterpiece that only occasionally dips its toes into schlock. Candyman is ethereal in all the right ways despite being suffused with despairing urban gloom. I was not surprised to find the script was adapted from a Clive Barker story—like Barker’s The Hellbound Heart (adapted into the Hellraiser films), Candyman is chilling yet eerily beautiful. The moment I finished watching it, I knew this was one I would be itching to revisit. There’s just so much going on regarding race, class, and memory in America. Also, Tony Todd’s voice is a damn treasure.

Merrily We Go to Hell (dir. Dorothy Arzner, 1932)

An alcoholic playwright (Frederic March) and his long-suffering wife (Sylvia Sidney) decide to have an open marriage. It doesn't work out well for either of them.

Merrily We Go to Hell is a sneaky piece of work. Reading the synopsis, one expects the usual salacious pre-code melodrama. The first scenes even resemble your usual romantic comedy, with our central couple having a meet-cute. The actual movie is much more complicated. It's about a married couple thinking love is enough to make their union work despite the husband's alcoholism. However, this idea proves erroneous and attempts to numb the pain through hedonism and extramarital vengeance just pour gasoline on the fire. The emotional honesty here is astonishing and even the "happy ending" isn't so uncomplicated when you think about it. So far, this is my favorite film of director Dorothy Arzner.

Up the Down Staircase (dir. Robert Mulligan, 1967)

An idealistic young teacher (Sandy Dennis) gets her first position at an inner-city high school. However, she finds her enthusiasm worn down by the school system's bureaucracy and the many psychological troubles of her students and fellow faculty.

Ever since I watched Four Seasons a few years ago, I’ve been intrigued by Sandy Dennis. No matter the role, I find her eccentric yet vulnerable screen presence compelling. Up the Down Staircase was Dennis’ first starring vehicle and an unsentimental look at the teaching profession. Having worked as a teacher and in similar jobs in the past, I related strongly to the main character’s compassion fatigue and her frustrated desire to help make her community a better place. While not a cheery film, it is ultimately an optimistic one, even if that optimism is cautious. And of course, Dennis is damn great as always, whetting my appetite for more of her work.

They Shoot Horses, Don’t They? (dir. Sydney Pollack, 1969)

In the thick of the Great Depression, a group of desperate contestants sign up for a grueling dance marathon with a hefty cash prize. Greed, sexual exploitation, health problems, and crushing despair eventually complicate the exhibition.

This movie is so bleak you’ll be just as exhausted as the characters by the tragic finish. I know that doesn’t sound like much of a recommendation, but this is powerful stuff. It does what a great tragedy should do: make you emphasize with the characters and go out into the world more empathetic toward the people around you and more critical of a society in which such awful conditions could be permitted. And like Targets, it’s depressing that this movie’s themes remain relevant to American culture.

Flash Gordon (dir. Frederick Stephani and Ray Taylor, 1936)

A himbo polo player (Buster Crabbe), a middle-aged scientist in hot pants (Frank Shannon), and an ingenue in a blonde wig (Jean Rogers) must save the Earth from a galactic emperor.

Yes, I’m counting a film serial as a single unit on this list. In this corny, breathless saga can be found the seeds of so many modern blockbuster spectacles. The old school space opera aesthetic is always a joy and I love seeing what George Lucas borrowed from the comic book plot and fantastic images for his Star Wars films. Also, the serial is surprisingly horny for a product released after the death knell of the pre-code era, so that’s fascinating too. I watched the episodes, one a night, usually before a feature film, to recreate at least in part the conditions in which old serials were viewed. I highly recommend that approach if you're interested in watching these kind of films-- NEVER binge them.

Silkwood (dir. Mike Nichols, 1983)

Karen Silkwood (Meryl Streep), a union activist and metallurgy worker at a plutonium processing plant, discovers both she and many of her co-workers have been contaminated with high levels of radiation due to blatant safety violations. Rather than remedy the problem, her employers are determined to keep her quiet, but Karen refuses to back down.

Meryl Streep's performance in Silkwood finally showed me what all the hype around her is about. What an astonishing, natural performance-- I forgot I was watching an actor every moment. As for the overall film, it's one of the stronger docudramas out there (as this film was based on a true story). It isn't just a preachy message piece and it allows Silkwood to be both a heroic figure and a flesh and blood human being with flaws like anyone. The domestic drama involving her lover (Kurt Russell) and lesbian roommate (Cher, who also gives an incredible performance) is almost as compelling as the main story. Though released in the early '80s, it feels like a late manifestation of the paranoia thriller genre of the decade before.

Love with the Proper Stranger (dir. Robert Mulligan, 1963)

When a one-night stand with a jazz musician (Steve McQueen) leaves her pregnant and at risk of upsetting her very Catholic family, an innocent sales clerk (Natalie Wood) tracks down her lover and demands he help her get an abortion.

Love with the Proper Stranger is such a unique piece of work that I can forgive the elements that dissatisfy me (like the ending). Wood and McQueen's romance starts out acidic and slowly becomes tender over the course of their bizarre misadventure, and the film itself shifts through several moods. Sometimes it feels like an urban drama, other times a romantic comedy. But it somehow holds together, perhaps because of the chemistry between the lead actors.

What were your favorite film discoveries in 2024?

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futurequibblerjournalist · 8 months ago

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@rosekillermicrofic // may 1st - rose // word count: 471

Barty grinned as he leaned back in the director’s chair. Not much could be considered comfortable in the setup, not with the bright lights pointing at him and cameras waiting to catch and broadcast every cheeky word that left his mouth.

Most people would have likely felt uncomfortable—if for no other reason then because of the chair he was sitting on. Barty on the other hand was grinning from ear to ear, his legs crossed and his elbow propped up on his knee so he could lean his head on his hand.

“So, it’s quite a getup you get into for this movie, isn’t it?” Rita continued, correcting a tight blonde curl as she glanced at her prompt cards. “It’s of course nothing new to see you with tattoos, we all know you’ve got a good handful of your own.”

Barty let out a chuckle, his hands running briefly over his decorated arms.

“I hardly know what you mean,” he teased.

“Mhm, well, a lot of your fans seemed to notice a.. new addition to the rest? Someone online had a theory you just got fond of it while filming.” As Rita spoke she motioned a long, manicured finger towards Barty’s neck.

Mostly untouched except for the beginning curl of a snake that stretched across part of his chest and around his arm, the skin was now decorated with a delicate rose with thorns and leafs poking out from the stem.

Barty’s expression softened briefly as he sat up properly, bringing a hand to the spot.

“Ah, nothing really gets past them, does it?” he asked, leaning back in his chair. “Well, as fun of a theory as that is, this is entirely on purpose.” He moved his hand and exposed the tattoo again.

“Is there a meaning behind it?”

Barty licked his teeth under his lips before exposing his teeth. “It’s a dedication, actually. To someone special. My very own Rose,” he explained, staring directly into the camera as he spoke. He lifted a hand and waved. “Hiya, Rosie.”

Evan stared blankly at the screen, his grasp on the remote tightening. His face felt warm and yet at the same time his stomach curled. Not only did Barty get a tattoo for him—Evan already knew of it, of course, the man had run along and shown him the second it was done—but now he’d exposed their relationship, or at least parts of it, on live television.

He let out a breath. Part of it was exciting. A secret but not quite a secret. Barty was his, he belonged to someone and that someone was Evan. And now everyone knew it. Rubbing his face he let out another breath. Leave it to Barty Crouch fucking Junior to make Evan feel all over the place yet again.

Fucking typical.

#marauders era #marauders #rosekiller #hp marauders #hp #barty crouch jr #barty crouch junior #evan rosier #microfiction #rosekiller microfic #microfic #futurequibblerjournalist writing

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brian-in-finance · 3 months ago

Text

… to @bcacstuff and her Anon who said

Looks like Cait is on an interesting path in HW not just as member of The Academy of Motion Pictures and actress but also making things work in this industry from BTS.

ACADEMY REVEALS 2024 NICHOLL SCREENWRITING FELLOWS

Posted: Monday, September 30, 2024

LOS ANGELES, CA – Four individuals and one writing team have been selected as recipients of the 2024 Academy Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting. Each individual and writing team will receive a $35,000 prize and mentorship from an Academy member throughout their fellowship year. They also will participate in a week of virtual seminars, a virtual meet and greet with the Nicholl Fellowships committee, and in-person networking events, including a celebration in Beverly Hills on October 29. The Nicholl Fellowships were established in 1985 through the support of Gee Nicholl in memory of her husband, Don Nicholl.

The 2024 Nicholl Fellows are (listed alphabetically by author):

Alysha Chan and David Zarif (Los Angeles, CA), “Miss Chinatown”

Jackie Yee follows in her mother’s footsteps on her quest to win the Los Angeles Miss Chinatown pageant.

Colton Childs (Waco, TX), “Fake-A-Wish”

Despite their forty-year age gap, and the cancer treatment confining them to their small Texas town, two gay men embark on a road trip to San Francisco to grant themselves the Make-A-Wish they’re too old to receive.

Charmaine Colina (Los Angeles, CA), “Gunslinger Bride”

With a bounty on her head, a young Chinese-American gunslinger poses as a mail order bride to hide from the law and seek revenge for her murdered family.

Ward Kamel (Brooklyn, NY), “If I Die in America”

After the sudden death of his immigrant husband, an American man’s tenuous relationship with his Muslim in-laws reaches a breaking point as he tries to fit into the funeral they’ve arranged in the Middle East. Adapted from the SXSW® Grand Jury-nominated short film of the same name.

H (West Chester, PA), “The Superb Lyrebird & Other Creatures”

A neurodivergent teen who envisions people as animated creatures, battles an entitled rival for a life-changing art scholarship, while her sister unwisely crosses the line to help.

A total of 5,500 scripts, from 80 countries, were submitted for the 2024 competition.

The 2024 finalists are (listed alphabetically by author):

Kelly Beck-Byrnes, “Where the Boxelders Grow”

Tate Hamilton, “Delivery Girl”

Jamie Murphy, “Lights over Idaho”

Adele Smaill, “No Ghosts Tonight”

Justine Suh, “Deep”

The five fellowships are awarded with the understanding that recipients will complete feature-length screenplays during their fellowship year. The Academy acquires no rights to the works of Nicholl fellows and does not involve itself commercially in any way with their completed scripts.

The Academy Nicholl Fellowships Committee is chaired by Julie Lynn (Producers Branch). The members of the committee are Aldis Hodge and Caitríona Balfe (Actors Branch); Julien Thuan (Artist Representatives); Susan Shopmaker and Academy governor Kim Taylor-Coleman (Casting Directors Branch); Andrzej Bartkowiak (Cinematographers Branch); Allison Anders (Directors Branch); Bruce Hendricks and Marcus Hu (Executives Branch); Blaise Noto (Marketing and Public Relations Branch); Jason Michael Berman, Susan Cartsonis, Julia Chasman and Linda Reisman (Producers Branch); Sue Chan (Production Design Branch); Bobbi Banks (Sound Branch); and Destin Daniel Cretton, Susannah Grant, Ehren Kruger, Adele Lim, Justin Marks, Zak Penn and Katie Silberman (Writers Branch).

The global competition, which aims to identify and encourage talented new screenwriters, has awarded 186 fellowships since 1986. In 2024, several past Nicholl fellows added to their feature film and television credits:

Aaron Chung is a staff writer on Apple+’s “WondLa.”

Elizabeth Chomko directed the docuseries “Martin Scorsese Presents: The Saints.”

Eric Nazarian wrote and directed “Die like a Man.”

“Holy Irresistible” is from Andrew Shearer and Nicholas Sherman’s 2007 Nicholl-winning script.

“Interstate” is from Anthony Jaswinski’s 1997 Nicholl-winning script.

Jason Micallef is an executive producer and writer on Disney+’s “The Acolyte.”

R.J. Daniel Hanna wrote and directed two features: “Succubus” and “Hard Miles,” which he co-wrote.

For more information about the Academy Nicholl Fellowships in Screenwriting, visit oscars.org/nicholl.

Oscars Press

Brian 29 June 2022

Remember Caitríona’s latest Academy role?

#Tait rhymes with hat #Good times #Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences #2024 #Nicholl Fellowships #Screenwriting #Thanks bcacstuff

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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years ago

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Request: Wally with a Child!Reader who snuck backstage during a special live taping of Welcome Home to see him, as he is their favorite character

Oh this idea is cute!!! I like the trope of humans and puppets/cartoons coexisting (like in who framed roger rabbit) so im absolutely using that here

........

"Aaaand that's a wrap! Thank you all for coming to our exclusive live taping of Welcome Home! Be sure to gather up all your things before leaving through the exits on either side of the studio. Wally and his friends appreciate each and every one of you visiting their neighborhood!!"

The director's voice echoed over the intercom as the audience's applause gradually died down, with you being the last one to clap. Your hands almost hurt, but you didn't care. The smile on your face was huge

You still couldn't believe that you and your family got to actually see the entire Welcome Home cast in-person!

Especially Wally.

It's probably lame to say you liked the main character as a majority of the show's fans probably did...but it was true. You loved listening to his narrations, seeing him paint, and getting into all sorts of shenanigans with the gang.

During this live taping--which you won tickets to--he interacted with the audience a lot with his sweet eyes and warm smile, taking all of you on a journey into his world. You could see he was really happy to interact with all of you.

And that's why you were kinda sad when the curtains closed and the camera crew started packing up things, realizing it was already over. They still had a lot of work to do before they could put the episode on the usual television station Welcome Home was featured on, so they made sure every guest was out of the studio.

But fortunately, none of them noticed you sneaking down the steps and managing to find the door conveniently labelled "Backstage Access".

You knew you could get into a lot of trouble, though your family was catching up with some friends and their children. So surely they won't notice you were gone for quite a while.

You just really wanted to see Wally and personally tell him you're his biggest fan. It would make his day!

Eventually you did find him sitting by himself at the makeup booth, in front of a mirror surrounded by lights. His blue cardigan was draped over the chair, and he rolled up his sleeves before undoing the ascot around his neck. All the while, he smiled at his reflection dreamily with half-lidded eyes.

He looked a little tired, but happy nevertheless.

You would have approached him...if not for the director abruptly showing up, a stack of script papers in his hand. He seemed upset and annoyed, compared to the cheery tone he had earlier, so you just hid behind one of the large loudspeakers, eavesdropping on their conversation.

"Look, Wally. How many times do we have to go over this?" He huffed. "You need to ease up on the excessive eye contact. It's been giving a few of my cameramen the creeps."

"Oh, I'm awfully sorry, sir. But..I thought that's what people liked.." Pouting slightly, the puppet looked at him, resting his elbow on the armchair to prop his chin up. "Where else can I look if not the camera or adoring audience? I can't just stare at the ceiling, y'know."

"..well it helps to blink every once in a while. That's what we humans do so it doesn't look like we're staring into each other's souls....like you're doing right now."

"Ah...am I..? Haha.." Wally laughed uncomfortably, forcing himself to blink as he fidgeted with the ascot in his hands. He looked down at the floor. "Sorry. It's just a habit-"

"Don't make excuses, Wally. I know eye contact is essential to your character but...I'm sure you wouldn't feel comfortable if I stared at you like that all the time, right?"

"Actually that wouldn't bother me at all." He gazed at the director with a polite smile, only for it to drop as he looked furious.

"Are you being sarcastic?"

"...no? I'm only being honest, sir."

"...whatever. I have my lunch break now, so just...try to get what we discussed through your head." The director huffed, shaking his head before he turned and walked away, bumping into one of his assistants.

"You good, boss?"

"Huh? Yeah, I'm fine..it's that damn puppet. I keep reminding him about his staring problem, but it's like I'm talking to a brick wall.."

Although he could barely hear them, Wally knew that he made the director upset...again. And that turned his usual smile upside down as he looked back into the mirror.

"I don't get it...everybody loved the show..." He muttered to himself, touching up his hair, but not even seeing his own reflection could cheer him up. "So why is he so...angry at me all the time?"

You frowned slightly as you watched his shoulders slump, hating how sad he sounded. That director of his was so cruel! He didn't know what he was talking about!

Determined to help your favorite character feel better, you finally gained the confidence to say something and emerge from your hiding spot.

"What am I doing wrong?"

"I...think you're doing your best, Wally. Don't listen to him."

"Huh..?" Surprised, he looked over and saw you shyly standing beside the loudspeaker, blinking in bewilderment that you were able to sneak back here unnoticed. "Oh hello, Neighbor--! I mean..." He paused, a bashful smile on his face. "S-Sorry, it's-

"Habit? Don't worry, it's okay." You reassured, stepping closer to him as you tried your best to contain your excitement. "You can call me Neighbor..or [y/n], if you wanna."

"[Y/n]..that's a nice name." He nodded, although his gaze turned serious as his eyes flickered left and right, before he leaned down to get closer to you. "It's nice to meet you, but I'm afraid you've must've taken a wrong turn. You can't be back here."

"I know, but..I really wanted to see you! You're my favorite and..I didn't like what that mean man said to you."

"Oh..him? Don't fret, my friend." Wally softly chuckled. "That "mean man" is my director and...he's only suggesting how I can improve myself! He can be blunt sometimes, but I have to listen to him. Just like how you have to listen to your parents and teachers."

"Yeah.....but he didn't have to be so rude." You huffed, hands on your hips. "If he has a problem with your staring, it's his fault, not yours. He's just a big ol' dummy."

He was amused by your attempts to defend him so fiercely, and he couldn't help but break into an even bigger smile.

"I agree, he is a big dummy..but that's a secret between you and me." He winked, before hopping down from his chair, opening his arms up to you. "Well thank you for lifting my spirits, dear [y/n]. I wish I had something for you, but...this is all I can offer."

"That's okay! I'm happy to help!" Nodding, you eagerly hugged him, feeling how soft his plush body was. "You're...not gonna tell anyone I'm here, will you?"

"Nope. Why would I do that to my number one fan?"

All you could do was beam at his compliment.

This was truly the best day ever. Not only did you get to meet Wally face-to-face...but you also helped him feel better!

Sneaking backstage was absolutely worth it.

#clanask #anonymous #welcome home x reader #wally darling #child reader #platonic #welcome home au

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luvnami · 4 months ago

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not a glory hole! - chapter 15

an | wow... a few more chapters till the end chat... / mlist cw | ageless/mdni (18+)

“let’s take a 10 minute break!” the director yells.

relieved, you collapse onto a chair in the restaurant’s corner and crack open a bottle of water. it’s been a long day.

for the most part, you don’t see ushijima often anymore. he spends his days with the adlers and you spend your nights at work, filming that midnight diner series that your boss promised you’d get a bonus from.

ushijima wouldn’t really say that he misses you. ‘miss’ is a strong word. the more appropriate phrase would be to say that he’s lonely without you. after all, he doesn’t hate it (‘it’ being this… hole-in-the-wall situation).

loneliness isn’t a foreign concept to ushijima, since he grew up as an only child with divorced parents. he usually woke up to an empty house and ate microwaved leftovers.

besides, ushijima was barely at home. he wouldn’t have had to interact with you if it wasn’t for the injury that left him stuck in his apartment. most of his time is spent training or in the gym. his off-days are used for chores and stocking up on groceries, and he doesn’t have friends to meet with or other hobbies to keep him occupied.

volleyball is his life. it’s all he’s ever known. so when you crawl into his daily routine through a hole in the wall shaped like him, with your morning rendition of the latest pop hit and home-cooked meals for dinner, ushijima thinks he appreciates your presence more than he lets on.

for you, ushijima was someone that broke the mundane routine of your corporate life. a fresh-grad thrown into television business was like meat tossed in piranha-infested waters. you barely got through each day of work by the skin of your teeth, continuously plagued by office politics and snarky seniors who were bitter about the new hire.

coming home to an empty, silent apartment at night was the real kicker. it made you want to drop your bags and crawl under the covers, hoping that god would strike you down with lightning in your sleep. of course, that (un)fortunate scenario never occurred.

instead, you had an adult man compromise the structural integrity of your apartment building by barreling through your living room wall. you're honestly just grateful he avoided your shelf of sanrio gachapon and smiskis.

as much as you’ve enjoyed the fun times (including but not limited to that one time ushijima sleep-walked into your own living room and woke up on your sofa), hiroko-san will have to repair the wall eventually.

one day, this too, will have to come to an end.

your phone screen lights up on the restaurant table.

<< 10.29pm: I’m heading to bed. I hope filming goes well. Please take care and come home safely.

you smile.

>>10.30pm: goodnight wakatoshi-kun!!!! sweet dreams

“let’s get back to filming! c’mon!”

#ushijima wakatoshi x reader #ushijima wakatoshi #ushijima wakatoshi fluff #ushijima x reader #ushijima fluff #hq x reader #hq fluff #hq ushijima #haikyuu ushijima #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu fluff

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dreaminginthedeepsouth · 3 months ago

Text

John Darków, Columbia Missourian

* * * *

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

October 10, 2024

Heather Cox Richardson

Oct 11, 2024

Hurricane Milton made landfall yesterday evening as a Category 3 storm just south of Sarasota, Florida. Before the hurricane hit, thirty-eight tornadoes swept across thirteen counties in the state, putting about 1.26 million people under a tornado advisory. With the hurricane came high winds and water, including ten to twenty inches of rain in the Tampa area. And, although it was not the worst-case scenario people feared, eleven people are dead and about three million are without power because of the storm. The Federal Emergency Management Agency has been on the ground since before the storm hit.

In election news, today, The Atlantic endorsed Vice President Kamala Harris for president. This is only the fifth time since its founding in 1857 that The Atlantic has endorsed a presidential candidate. It is the third time it has endorsed Trump’s opponent. It also endorsed Lyndon Baines Johnson in 1964 when he ran against extremist Arizona senator Barry Goldwater. And in 1860 it endorsed Abraham Lincoln.

The Atlantic’s endorsement of Harris echoes its earlier endorsement of Lincoln, not only in its thorough dislike of Trump as “one of the most personally malignant and politically dangerous candidates in American history”—an echo of its 1860 warning that this election “is a turning-point in our history”—but because both endorsements show a new press challenging an older system.

In Public Notice today, Noah Berlatsky listed the many articles claiming that Harris is avoiding the press, including most recently a social media post from Politico’s Playbook that read: “After avoiding the media for neigh [sic] on her whole campaign, Kamala Harris is…still largely avoiding the media.” Berlatsky pointed out that Harris has taken questions from reporters as she campaigns and has sat down with the National Association of Black Journalists, CNN, Spanish language radio station Uforia, and Action News in Pennsylvania, and did a presidential debate with ABC News. Earlier this week, she appeared on 60 Minutes.

With Trump refusing to participate in another presidential debate, Vice President Harris today accepted CNN’s invitation to a live, televised town hall on October 23 in Pennsylvania. In the announcement, Harris-Walz campaign chair Jen O’Malley Dillon noted that Trump has confined his recent appearances to conservative media.

Indeed, Trump backed out of a 60 Minutes interview and has appeared only on the shows of loyalists. And yet, Berlatsky points out, he is not receiving similar criticism. Indeed, observers note that Trump has tended to get far more favorable coverage than his mental slips, open embrace of Nazi racism, fantastical lies, and criminal indictments deserve.

In a piece today, Matt Gertz of the media watchdog Media Matters reports that five major newspapers—the Los Angeles Times, the New York Times, USA Today, the Wall Street Journal, and the Washington Post—produced nearly four times as many articles about Democratic candidate Hillary Clinton’s email server in 2016 in the week after then–FBI director James Comey announced new developments in the story than they did about the unsealing of a new filing in Trump’s federal criminal indictment for alleged crimes related to the January 6 insurrection earlier this month.

“None of the papers ran even half as many Trump indictment stories as they did on Clinton’s server,” Gertz wrote. “Indeed, every paper ran more front-page stories that mentioned Clinton’s server [than] they did total stories that referenced Trump’s indictment.” “The former president continues to benefit from news outlets grading him on a massive curve,” Gertz wrote, “resulting in relatively muted coverage for his nakedly authoritarian, unfathomably racist, and allegedly criminal behavior.”

On Tuesday, October 8, Ian Bassin and Maximillian Potter of the Columbia Journalism Review outlined Trump’s longstanding attack on the U.S. media as “fake news,” an attack that is ongoing and obvious. (Just today, he threatened CBS and “all other Broadcast Licenses, because they are just as corrupt as CBS—and maybe even WORSE!”)

Bassin and Potter note that in his attacks on the media, Trump is following the pattern of authoritarians like Hungarian prime minister Viktor Orbán, who attacked media critics with audits, investigations, and harassment until he “drove independent media from the field.” They also note the observation of Timothy Snyder, a scholar of authoritarianism, that power is often freely given to an authoritarian in anticipation of punishment, what Snyder calls “anticipatory obedience.”

And yet, in the past in the U.S., when the media has appeared to become captive to established interests, new media have begun to give a voice to the opposition. In the 1850s, when elite enslavers stopped the circulation of newspapers and books calling for abolition, they prompted an explosion of new media that expressed the sentiments of those opposed to the expansion of human enslavement. Editor Horace Greeley led the way with the New-York Tribune in the 1840s. He was keenly aware of the importance of the new press and, as an early convert to the Republican Party, led his paper to become the anchor of a string of new Republican newspapers across the North—including the Chicago Tribune and the New York Times—that spread the party’s ideology.

The Atlantic Monthly’s endorsement of Lincoln in 1860 was part of that movement, and poet James Russell Lowell, who wrote the endorsement, mocked the idea that the press should avoid causing trouble. “We are gravely requested to have no opinion, or, having one, to suppress it, on the one topic that has occupied caucuses, newspapers, Presidents’ messages, and congress, for the last dozen years, lest we endanger the safety of the Union…. In a democracy it is the duty of every citizen to think.”

Harris has nodded to established media, but as Berlatsky points out, there is very little payoff for her in focusing on those venues, since those audiences are generally already quite attuned to politics and are looking for new developments and scandals. In contrast, winning in 2024 means turning out new voters by finding new venues that offer them a political voice. Harris has recognized that media shift by focusing her media appearances on podcasts like Call Her Daddy, radio shows like Howard Stern’s, and television shows like The Late Show with Stephen Colbert and The View.

Campaign staffer Victor Shi noted that, based on averages, Harris’s appearance on Call Her Daddy reached 5 million people, The View, 2.45 million; Howard Stern, 10 million; and Stephen Colbert, 3.2 million—in all, 25 million or more people that traditional media do not reach. (Shi also called attention to the fact that on October 9, the campaign live streamed an Arizona rally by Minnesota governor and Democratic vice presidential candidate Tim Walz on the World of Warcraft Twitch stream.)

The Atlantic nodded to the free thought on which the magazine was founded in 1857 when it came out strongly for Harris today. It is endorsing Harris, it said, because she “respects the law and the Constitution. She believes in the freedom, equality, and dignity of all Americans. She’s untainted by corruption, let alone a felony record or a history of sexual assault. She doesn’t embarrass her compatriots with her language and behavior, or pit them against one another. She doesn’t curry favor with dictators. She won’t abuse the power of the highest office in order to keep it. She believes in democracy. These, and not any specific policy positions, are the reasons The Atlantic is endorsing her.”

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

#climate change #John Darkow #climate emergency #political cartoons #Letters From An American #Heather Cox Richardson #journalism #media #press #The Atlantic #election 2024 #endorsement #Kamala Harris #history #new media #Matt Gertz #politico

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ammg-old2 · 2 years ago

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Imagine that someone—perhaps a man from Florida, or maybe even a governor of Florida—criticized American support for Ukraine. Imagine that this person dismissed the war between Russia and Ukraine as a purely local matter, of no broader significance. Imagine that this person even told a far-right television personality that “while the U.S. has many vital national interests ... becoming further entangled in a territorial dispute between Ukraine and Russia is not one of them.” How would a Ukrainian respond? More to the point, how would the leader of Ukraine respond?

As it happens, an opportunity to ask that hypothetical question recently availed itself. The chair of the board of directors of The Atlantic, Laurene Powell Jobs; The Atlantic’s editor in chief, Jeffrey Goldberg; and I interviewed President Volodymyr Zelensky several days ago in the presidential palace in Kyiv. In the course of an hour-long conversation, Goldberg asked Zelensky what he would say to someone, perhaps a governor of Florida, who wonders why Americans should help Ukraine.

Zelensky, answering in English, told us that he would respond pragmatically. He didn’t want to appeal to the hearts of Americans, in other words, but to their heads. Were Americans to cut off Ukraine from ammunition and weapons, after all, there would be clear consequences in the real world, first for Ukraine’s neighbors but then for others:

If we will not have enough weapons, that means we will be weak. If we will be weak, they will occupy us. If they occupy us, they will be on the borders of Moldova and they will occupy Moldova. When they have occupied Moldova, they will [travel through] Belarus and they will occupy Latvia, Lithuania, and Estonia. That’s three Baltic countries which are members of NATO. They will occupy them. Of course, [the Balts] are brave people, and they will fight. But they are small. And they don’t have nuclear weapons. So they will be attacked by Russians because that is the policy of Russia, to take back all the countries which have been previously part of the Soviet Union.

And after that, if there were still no further response? Then, he explained, the struggle would continue:

When they will occupy NATO countries, and also be on the borders of Poland and maybe fight with Poland, the question is: Will you send all your soldiers with weapons, all your pilots, all your ships? Will you send tanks and armored vehicles with your young people? Will you do it? Because if you will not do it, you will have no NATO.

At that point, he said, Americans will face a different choice: not politicians deciding whether “to give weapons or not to give weapons” to Ukrainians, but instead, “fathers and mothers” deciding whether to send their children to fight to keep a large part of the planet, filled with America’s allies and most important trading partners, from Russian occupation.

But there would be other consequences too. One of the most horrifying weapons that Russia has used against Ukraine is the Iranian-manufactured Shahed drone, which has no purpose other than to kill civilians. After these drones are used to subdue Ukraine, Zelensky asked, how long would it be before they are used against Israel? If Russia can attack a smaller neighbor with impunity, regimes such as Iran’s are sure to take note. So then the question arises again: “When they will try to occupy Israel, will the United States help Israel? That is the question. Very pragmatic.”

Finally, Zelensky posed a third question. During the war, Ukraine has been attacked by rockets, cruise missiles, ballistic missiles—“not hundreds, but thousands”:

So what will you do when Russia will use rockets to attack your allies, to [attack] civilian people? And what will you do when Russia, after that, if they do not see [opposition] from big countries like the United States? What will you do if they will use rockets on your territory?

And this was his answer: Help us fight them here, help us defeat them here, and you won’t have to fight them anywhere else. Help us preserve some kind of open, normal society, using our soldiers and not your soldiers. That will help you preserve your open, normal society, and that of others too. Help Ukraine fight Russia now so that no one else has to fight Russia later, and so that harder and more painful choices don’t have to be made down the line.

“It’s about nature. It’s about life,” he said. “That’s it.”

#current events #warfare #politics #russian politics #american politics #russo-ukrainian war #2022 russian invasion of ukraine #russia #ukraine #usa #volodymyr zelenskyy #ron desantis #nato

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monarcascension · 1 year ago

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the less they know | j.w

summary : You were always the kind of person to stay focused. You were determined to prove yourself in this new job and never let anything deter you from your path, that was … until you met Jung Wooyoung.

pairings: wooyoung x blk!femreader

tags: light fluff , angst, SMUT WARNING, foreplay, unprotected sex, vulgar language, creampie, MINORS DNI ♡

word count: 7.2K

Since you were a little girl, you were always interested in the fashion scene. Your grandmother would frequently watch fashion shows, whether on television or in person. Even designing clothes of her own. In fact, she was the one who taught you how to use a needle and thread in the first place.Thanks to her, your addiction to the art grew over the years, which led you to the heart of Seoul, South Korea for the Summer International Fashion Seminar. A home for artists, like yourself, who wished to put their works in the public eye. All of your accomplishments in your youth, made you the first Black woman and fashion creator to have ever made it to the Korean Division. Whether your luck went any further after this point, the feature itself was impressive.You worked your ass off every day to prove to everybody and to yourself, that you deserved everything you earned.

That was only the good part of it though.

Your nervousness was starting to overcome you little by little. This was your sixth interview this year with a company in South Korea and you were sure that it could possibly be your last if this didn’t go well. You had a dream of designing that you wanted to follow, and your parents sent you off on that quest in support of your journey, but for months you had nothing to show for it but half truths. Your mother would call and ask how work was going at your new job, and you would lie and say “Great!” almost half heartedly every time. You weren’t necessarily lying that you were working, which you had been — creating new pieces for yourself as well as filling your sketchbook with new designs for the future. Despite your lengthy background, despite your qualifications nothing ever worked out.

So, this company was your final hope or you would be leaving Korea for good.

Your leg shook violently in the chair as you stared forward at the empty seat behind the Director’s desk. Scanning over the structure, pictures of family and other knick knacks lined the wooden surface, making it known that it was clearly a space that was lived in and lively, which was not customary of most offices.

The other company buildings you visited were grand and uniform in design and color, but this one — still holding on to extravagance— had murals, pictures of staff, and plaques commemorating important figures. From what you could tell this was almost like a familial space, everyone had a bond with one another here. It was sweet to see, but it only made you realize just how alone you had been in Korea all this time.

You were pulled from your thoughts just as you heard the doorknob to the office click. You immediately stood to your feet as a woman stepped through the door, seemingly shocked by your presence. You greeted her with a polite bow and she returned the gesture.

“I apologize if I kept you waiting. I had to make some rounds throughout the department and lost track of time. It’s nice to meet you. My name is Director Yoo.” She said kindly, stepping around you to get to her seat. “Please, please sit.”

You retook your spot in the chair and re-adjusted so that you presented yourself well. You were perfectly dressed for the occasion, wearing a hand-crafted black plaid blazer that fit well against your frame; matching with a skirt and a nude turtle neck. It was formal, but also fashionable and eye-catching as well.

“Director Yoo. I appreciate you choosing to discuss this opportunity with me. I was happy to hear back from you.” You started, sweetly smiling at the woman.

“I must say, I was quite shocked to hear that you chose to apply here. What made you choose us?” She asked bluntly.

“Well, I have been in Korea for some time now and being in a foreign country you tend to do a lot of research on the things that are around you. Your company landed on my radar. So, the more I found out about you and the groups you have here it was an obvious choice.” You tried to explain with as much happiness as you could muster, hoping that it would hide your fear.

“I see..” Director Yoo spoke flatly. “I hope you don’t take this wrongly, but we.. don’t usually tend to higher foreign residents.”

You flet a cold shiver run across your body. Swallowing your saliva, and clearing your throat, you righted yourself to speak again. “Of course..”

“I’m well aware of the work that you have done. You’re extremely talented, however, it is only your Nationality that is an obstacle.”

“Director, if I may?”

She motioned for you to go on and leaned back in her chair, the leather stretching against the pressure.

“I’ve been into fashion my entire life. It’s who I am. And it’s everything that I have ever wanted to do. I applied at your company because I know that I’m good at what I do. Really good. I’m more than qualified. I understand that you take care of yours at home, and I respect that, but if you give me a chance, You’ll see that I’m trying to do the same. And I will work diligently to prove that hiring me erases all other obstacles for you in the future.”

Director Yoo stared at you as you spoke, intently taking in every word you said to her. It felt like your life was being analyzed in a weird way, and it made you nervous. As if you were being graded somehow without her ever seeing your work.

Suddenly, she sat up in her chair and rolled closer to her desk, clasping her hands together before letting out a soft sigh.

“We run a tight ship here. We work for the artists, and it's my job that I have the best of the best working on my team. They’re idols so their image is everything. Their image is our image. And we have to take care of that diligently or else we’ll be out of a job. Everything we do has to be quick and efficient. When I ask for you, you’re there. No If’s, Ands, or Buts. No distractions. Can you handle that?”

This woman was intense. That soft and sweet demeanor you thought she possessed was then replaced with business motive. She didn’t play around when it came to work, but you expected no less from the Head of the Fashion Department. You nodded your head quickly, accepting her challenge without fear.

“I’ll do more than my best.”

Standing from her seat, she walked to the other side of the desk where you sat and extended her hand. “Then welcome to the KQ family.”

You suddenly felt lighter as she said those words to you. Your shoulders affixing themselves to the light and feathery feeling now bestowed upon you. The opportunity to break down crying in front of her presented itself to you many times as you bowed to her with gratitude, but you maintained what resilience you had left. “I won’t let you down ma’am.”

“Good. We’ll finish the rest of the paperwork later. I would show you around myself, but we’re trying to finish prep for their comeback and we need all the hands we can get-“

“I can help!” You chimed.

The Director appeared confused at your eagerness and looked as if she was ready to shoot down your proposal, which made you feel guilty for speaking up in the first place, but she smiled and pulled open the door to the office.

“Let’s put you to work then.”

Following the Director through the KQ building, the two of you spoke in length about the expectations for this comeback as well as their concept. You didn’t know that much about Idol schedules, but from what you were being told, you definitely had your work cut out for you, and it excited you nonetheless. Taking the elevator up to the third floor, you were introduced to the calm chaos of the Art Department.

Racks of concealed clothing were parked outside in the halls or being loaded up by other employees, followed by them writing something on the labels in Korean. Some of them bowed at the presence of the Director, and looked confused at you but still greeted you warmly anyway before running past you to their next destination.

“We’re usually a little more organized than this, but it’s a little hectic today since we only have three weeks before the music shows. We were down a stylist so we are missing the finished pieces for one of their music show appearances. That is of the utmost importance and where you come in.” Director Yoo motioned you into one of the empty work spaces.

When you stepped inside it appeared like a dressing room combined with a waiting room with a vanity and a long body mirror, a couch and two side seats accompanied with a wall-mounted television and coffee table. In the corner was a rack of strewn about clothing and a desk with a large sewing machine and measurement map.

You took in the comfortable feel of the room , making note of everything at your disposal.

“Since it’s your first day, I won’t overwhelm you, but I want you to get used to things. The stylist left all of the equipment so use what you need. You’ll be working with Wooyoung today— he should be here in a moment. So take care of them. Any questions?”

“No- well, yes. One. I have complete creative control??”

“Anyone else's opinions would just slow you down in the moment. Just show us what you got and we’ll go from there. Good luck. No distractions!” The Director swiftly exited the room just as soon as she entered, leaving you standing in the center of the room with no idea where to begin.

It felt like you had been thrown in the heat of battle without a weapon, but if you didn’t find something quick, you were sure to be killed.

You placed your belongings on the couch, all except your sketchpad. Knowing what ATEEZ’s concept was, you tried to brainstorm something fast. From the research you had done on the group, you were privy to their style already, which gave you something to go off of. Since you of all people had the knowledge of what was hip, your pen started moving across the pad without hesitation.

“Excuse me?”

In the middle of you sketching, you heard a soft voice from the direction of the entrance. You quickly shot your head up from your paper and turned around to see—as unprofessional as it was to say— the most beautiful man you had ever laid your eyes on. You knew you shouldn’t stare, but it was almost impossible as he gazed upon you. His skin was a gorgeous light honey color. His jawline was chiseled to an inhuman perfection, accompanying his sharp nose and plump lips. He looked like trouble incarnate with long dark hair, but his brown eyes were so kind, you felt like they would suck you in within a matter of minutes if he stared at you any longer.

Shaking yourself free from your trance, softly patting your cheek as a nonverbal “pull yourself together”. You gave him a soft smile before bowing to him.

“I.. Hi. Hello. Sorry about that. I might have zoned out a little bit.” You chuckled nervously.

To your surprise, he laughed softly as he entered the room. “I noticed. You were staring at me for a while and didn’t speak. I thought I broke you for a second.”

That’s because you did.

But you didn’t say that out loud. “And you must be Wooyoung.”

“Gosh, what gave it away?” A sarcastic tone lining his words as he pulled his hair back behind his ears.

“The Director told me a loooooot about you.”

Wooyoung scoffed. “Waah. I don’t know if that’s a hidden compliment or an insult.”

“A compliment.” The two of you laughed for a moment.

“If I would have known I would be working with you, I would have prepared some compliments of my own.”

You grinned. “Well there’s still time for that.”

“You’re very pretty- I mean your outfit is. Pretty.” He stammered over his words, but tried to save himself and you laughed.

“Thank you. I made it myself. Which is exactly, what I’m going to do for you as your new stylist, so why don’t we get started?”

Throughout the rest of your session together, the conversation would flow as easy as it ever had with anybody else. While you dressed him like your personal doll, making him try on outfit after outfit in order to see your vision, he would hammer you with questions. Spilling jokes that would send you into laughing fits that had no return. It was non-stop. You don’t think you ever had this much conversation with someone since you came to Korea, but it felt nice. Being around him felt nice. Oddly, it was as if you were friends for a while instead of people who just met. It was so easy to talk to him, considering that he was an idol as well as a stranger to you. You would have thought he was snobbish in every way possible, but he just felt like a friend.

You had taken all of Wooyoung’s measurements and dimensions and finished up a good enough sketch that gave you an idea of how you wanted to style him, and he sat there with you and explained what kind of vibe he wanted to go for. You took all that information and drew it within minutes. It was complex, but doable. Portions of the design would have to be hand stitched, but that didn’t stop you.

“Alright, done!” You exclaimed proudly, flipping the sketchpad around to show him. “What do you think?”

Wooyoung kept his eyes on you the entire time, his fist resting on his cheek as he smiled. “Beautiful..”

You looked to him happily at the sound of his words and were met with those bright brown eyes flushing over every portion of your face. You thought he was referring to the drawing, but he was staring at you. Did he mishear you perhaps?

Your heartbeat was starting to pick up rapidly to the point you could hear it in your ears. You just met him mere hours ago, how was it that he managed to get you flustered so easily?

Laughing lightly to yourself with the hopes of trying to play it off as a joke, you set the sketch pad down and started gathering your belongings. “ I see why the girls love you, Jung Wooyoung.”

“Why’s that?”

“You're a flirt.”

“Here and there.” Wooyoung leaned back in his chair, working the corner of his lips up into a sly smirk while his head tilted slightly upwards. “But..I only flirt with the people I want.”

You believed that you had choked on air at that moment with your lungs seemingly collapsing in on themselves. From what you had learned about him since your conversation began, was that he was very up front with how he feels. He was one of the blunt ones in the group, but there was nothing that could have prepared you for that. A part of you wanted to believe that he was messing around, however the look in his eye was saying otherwise. He was staring at you like you were the only meal on the menu– his glare alone was a danger to you and you desperately needed to separate yourself from it.

Maybe all idols were like this with the new girls or the women that worked with them . Him flirting with you didn’t mean anything and even if it did, it didn't matter. He was an Idol and you were an employee with everything to lose. It wasn't like you could give into his advances anyway, if the two of you were even caught stealing sideways glances at one another, or touching each other in any way that was not becoming of an idol and staff relationship, it would be a disaster waiting to happen.

After months of agony you had finally managed to secure the job that you had been looking for to jumpstart your career, and nothing could get in the way of that. And a workplace affair was not on your bucket list of plans for your future.

“Boy, you play too much.” You played off Wooyoung’s statement once again, pushing the thoughts of his flirtatious notions to the back of your head.

No matter how unnervingly attractive he was. There could be no distractions. Not one. Not even him.

“Hey you two. We’re wrapping up for the day. Everything good here?” The Director’s voice came crashing into the room from the doorway, and you felt your heart lighten.

Saved by the bell. Thank god.

“Yeah! All done.” Quickly scrambling to your feet, you tossed your bag over your shoulder and fixed yourself accordingly. “I’m putting the pieces together tomorrow.”

“Perfect. You’re a lifesaver. Wooyoung. Hongjoong and your manager are looking for you, it's best you start heading out too.”

“Thank you, Director.” Wooyoung said, nodding his head in acknowledgment of the woman’s position and authority just before she walked away, leaving the two of you alone again.

You took the opportunity to try and weasel between the awkwardness brewing in the air, but you felt a light tug on your arm pulling you back. Your eyes landed upon Wooyoung who had your hand clasped in his. As strong as his physique was, the hold he had on you was gentle. The way the pad of his thumb brushed across your smooth brown skin sent goosebumps up your arm.

“W-Wooyoung?” You stammered, searching his face for some kind of reasoning behind his sudden actions. “What is it?”

And like he had just stepped out of a romantic movie from the 90’s, he brought the back of your hand up to his lips and softly planted a kiss in the center. The gesture set your entire body on fire. All of the gears in your brain halted for a moment, scraping roughly against the other as none of what you were experiencing made a single lick of sense. Not that you had the energy or time to make sense of it in the first place, but all you knew was that this shouldn’t happen. Right?

Wooyoung flickered his soulful gaze upon you once more. “Have a good night. I liked spending time with you today.”

Not knowing what else to say to him, you mustered up a smile through your obvious confusion and relative anxiety and bowed to him politely before pulling your hand out of his.

“Goodnight, Wooyoung.”

╚ ╝

When you arrived at your apartment, you collapsed in your bed almost instantly after finishing your nightly routine—plopping face down into your linens. The emotional weight of the day had completely tired you out, and you wanted nothing more but to sleep now. Letting out a thunderous, muffled groan into your bed sheets, you flipped your position to stare up at the ceiling.

Out of everything you had experienced today, only one thing— one person— was on your mind.

Jung Wooyoung.

And not the one thing that mattered which was keeping your job.

He kissed your hand. He flirted with you.

How could he be so careless to do something like that in public?

But he was so sweet. Gentle. Kind. Even staring up at the tall ceiling above you, you could perfectly trace out his smile with your eyes. The tender look he gave you when he called you “beautiful”. The spot on the back of your hand still tickled with the kiss he left behind, and you ran your fingers across it softly. His laugh made you weak in the knees and you could listen to it every day if you could. It made you laugh even thinking about it.

The words he said to you before you parted ways played on loop in the back of your head. You pondered for a moment if he was actually serious about them, but wiped the thought from your mind entirely.

You did not have the luxury for fantasies and what ifs. You had a job to do. The lives the two of you led were too different, continuing like this with one another would be dangerous. He was an idol. You only worked with him and nothing more. You could not allow yourself to be distracted by him any longer.

You had to come into work tomorrow focused.

And you did just that.

The next day, you came to KQ Entertainment a bit later than the other staff members at the request of the Director. You were more dressed down than yesterday now that you felt a little more comfortable. You wore a long sleeve, green, textured halter top with blue washed jeans that hugged against your waist, with green, suede sneakers you had made yourself. Your thick, kinky hair pulled into an up-do with wild strands falling across your forehead. Your makeup was done lightly, mostly highlighting your key features like your eyes, cheeks, and lips.

You greeted some of your co-workers as you passed them by in the hall towards your new office space. Flicking on the light in the still and empty space, you threw down your bag and immediately positioned yourself at the back of the room where you rummaged through the leftover clothing. Pulling a few pieces from the rack you folded them over your arm and turned towards the desk where you noticed something there that had not been there before.

Laying the clothes down on the table to get a better look, there had been a small rectangular box filled with the delicacies of Korean culture that you had grown to know over the half a year that you had been here, companioned with a beverage and a note that was written in the language left on top of it. Pulling the paper off, you put your months of studying to work and read the note.

You look even prettier with a smile on your face

so i hope this brings you one today, while i'm away

- Woo Young

So much for no distractions. You had just managed to pull yourself up by your bootstraps and insisted that you would not think about him again, just for him to go and do something like this.

You wanted to be angry , however you couldn’t help but smile.

“Ahh… Jung Wooyoung. You will be the death of me.” You ran your finger over the note and your heart fluttered.

You had never had anyone show you such kindness before. Regardless of his intentions, the gesture was sweet and you were grateful. Knowing that he was on schedule today saddened you a bit, but you had work to finish and now was the time to do it. Setting the lunch box he had gifted you to the side, you set your desk up with all of the equipment you needed and got to work.

Music played at a medium volume from the television across the room, giving you some kind of sound to work with as you attempted to create Wooyoung a dynamic look for his stage using the information you gathered from him yesterday. The sewing machine whirred as you raced against time, feeding it with a bright color that you imprinted onto the dark gray shirt you had found, which had taken a few hours at least to replicate it front and back.

Once it looked as good as you wanted it to, you cut the sleeves off of it, dipping down into the sides of the shirt so that the holes could give him some mobility while he was dancing. You would clean everything else up later, but your vision was coming to fruition. You continued on like this well into the late evening, and soon realized after almost pricking your finger with a needle, that you had not eaten a thing. Completely forgetting the meal that Wooyoung had left you hours before. You stood and admired your work, wiping the sweat off of your brow and nodded feeling accomplished with what you had gotten done.

Grabbing the box from the side table, you stepped out of the room and walked down the hall towards the break room that had a kitchen inside of it. There were a few lingering employees there, but it was mainly empty, not that it mattered to you. You stepped over to the microwave and heated your lunch before returning back to your work room, and to your surprise you found someone else there waiting for you.

You stopped in your tracks and peeked to the side to get a better look at them, but he did you the favor of turning around to greet you.

“Wooyoung? When did you-“

“I just popped in. Schedule ran a little longer than usual, but I wanted to check in on you. Something told me, you would try to work into the night if no one stopped you.” Wooyoung explained, looking you up and down from head to toe. “I see I was right.”

You snickered to yourself, walking back over towards your desk where you had been working. “Well, I have a job to do, fortunately enough for you. Somebody has to keep up with your image.”

“Sometimes work can wait. Look at you, you’re just now eating something and it’s almost eight o’clock.” He sounded as if he was almost scolding you, but more out of concern than anything.

You took the chopsticks apart that came with the meal, pulling open the plastic covering as your nose was hit with the most delicious aroma. “At least I’m eating now right?”

Wooyoung cursed under his breath and shook his head, “You’re really stubborn, you know that?”

You took a few bites of your food before setting the box to the side begrudgingly with a sharp sigh.

And for some reason, you snapped suddenly. “We only met yesterday and all of a sudden you think you know me?”

Wooyoung seemed taken aback by the tone in your voice, but for some reason you could not hide your growing frustration. “Well, I’d like to. But you won’t let me.”

“There’s a reason for that.”

“Why?” He asked sternly, furrowing his brows at you.

You laughed in disbelief . “Are you seriously asking right now? You’re an idol, Wooyoung. I work for you. I shouldn’t have even let you know as much as I have told you anyway..”

“If I cared about any of that shit, I wouldn’t have come here at all. I wouldn’t have asked you a single thing about your life. I meant what I said to you yesterday-“

“Jesus Christ..” You stood to your feet, completely thrown at his lack of understanding of your current predicament. “You don’t get it.”

“What??”

“This is so unserious. I am not having this conversation with you, Wooyoung! I have work to do.”

“Does anything else ever matter to you other than work?” Wooyoung retorted, standing to his feet now.

You quickly moved over towards the door and shut it. “Look, I don’t know what image of me that you have carved in your mind in the last twenty four hours, but you do not know me. I don’t know you outside of work alone. I can’t even believe that half of what you said yesterday was the truth or how many times you have said it to every other girl that works here with you.”

Wooyoung stepped closer to you, an uncontrolled fire burning deep inside of his gaze. You felt like you were shrinking in his presence alone the closer he got to you. Your eyes darted across his face, terrified of what his rebuttal to you would be.

“Ever since I saw you yesterday, I couldn’t take my eyes off of you for a second. I asked you every question under the sun just because I liked the way you spoke to me. I told you the dumbest jokes just to hear you laugh because your smile made me smile.”

“Wooyoung-“ You tried to stop him, but he continued speaking and moving towards you.

“I wanted you the moment you looked back at me. When you left me last night, all I did was think about you. Today, I couldn’t think straight without seeing your face. You have been the only thing on my mind from the moment we met. Time means nothing to me.”

Wooyoung was towering over you now. Your back was pressed against the curtains on the door’s window leaving almost no room between you and him. You hung onto every word he spoke like it was his last. They were tied together so beautifully that it was almost hard to refute them. You wanted to believe them, but none of his words changed your reality: the two of you couldn’t be together. You swallowed thickly, licking over your lips to soothe the dryness lingering there.

“This can’t happen, Wooyoung. We could lose everything if someone found out that the mere possibility of us existed. One scandal could ruin your career. My career.”

You were almost pleading with him at this point, you had worked so hard for this life only to have it threatened by the possibility of a prohibited moment of weakness. However, you could not deny that you did feel something for him, though it did not yet have a name. Maybe it was because you were lonely all this time and just needed someone to make you feel good, or maybe you were just desperate for attention but were lying to yourself to make you feel better. You weren’t sure.

But you felt something, you just couldn’t say the words.

“So they won’t know. They won’t have to.” His voice had lowered into a sweet whisper now that caressed your ears like a tender melody. Wooyoung pulled his tongue over his lips, flicking his gaze between your dark brown pools and your glossed pair. He placed a finger underneath your chin and tilted your head up to face him. “But if you tell me, right now, that you feel nothing for me…I’ll walk away.”

“I..” You desperately wanted to say the words. In fact you were trying to force them to come out, but your tongue could not forge the sentence in time. Your eyes, instead, we’re carving out the line in his lips and how much softer they looked up close.

You felt like your heart was going to pound out of your chest. The pressure of the moment building and building so fast that you couldn’t keep up.

Just say it.

“Nobody would know, right?” You exasperated.

Wooyoung nodded his head. “No one.”

As soon as he gave you the confirmation you needed, you pulled him in closer by the nape of his neck. Your lips crashing hungrily against the others like you had been waiting for this moment your entire lives. Your hand brushed through his dark tresses, gripping onto them as the kiss intensified. Your bodies pressed firmly against the other with no promise of letting go. You could taste his cool breath swirling in your mouth as his tongue pressed between your parted lips and claimed entry.

His strong hands found purchase on the back of your thighs after sliding over every curve in your frame. He pulled you up in the air, you instinctively wrapping your legs around his waist as he moved you over to a new— more comfortable location. To where, you had no idea nor did it matter to you where he chose. In the matter of seconds, you found yourself placed on a high platform of some sorts, completely stable against it and him. The cool surface he had you against being a dead giveaway that he had you against the vanity with him trapped right between your legs. The next thing you know you were tearing off his clothes. Removing the distressed denim jacket he had on and tossing it to the side, along with the dark graphic tee he donned as well. Each article of clothing hitting the ground with a thud somewhere. With his upper attire now removed, you could fully admire the true beauty of his skin tone — the way it shined in the light and melded beautifully against your own as you caressed his shoulders and chest. Meanwhile, Wooyoung started going for the buttons on your jeans, undoing the fastenings prior to tugging them off of your waist and letting them fall onto the floor, kicking them off to the side in one push.

Hands falling down the ripples of his abs and down to his dark colored sweats, you hooked your fingers inside of them and started to pull them downwards and Wooyoung assisted you, leaving him in only his briefs that showed the massiveness of his growing bulge.

“I want you..” You moaned into his mouth, breaking the kiss to speak, which Wooyoung took as an opportunity to dress your skin with his lips. Canvassing your cheeks and your neck with ticklish, pillowy love notes that made you smile.

“Tell me what you want baby hmm?” He cooed sensually, pulling back for a moment to look at you, taking note of your desperate and needy tone with a devilish grin. His hands ran up your thick thighs, feeling the warmth growing between them. His fingers lightly brushed against your lips, pressing into the fabric with his middle finger just to feel how wet you were. “You want to feel me like this?”

You groaned in response to his touch, biting down on your plump bottom lip as you watched him explore you. Wooyoung was enthused by your reaction, but even more so at the slickness he felt in your panties alone. You hastily nodded in response to his question.

“Fuck, you’re already dripping and I barely touched you yet.” Wooyoung brought the tips of his fingers up to his mouth and sucked them, which turned you on even more.

He kept his eyes on you the entire time he tasted you, taking those same two fingers and dipping them back into your crevasse, pulling your panties to the side while using his other free hand to hook one of your legs around him while the other remained spread, giving him a clear view of your pussy. Using the pads of his fingers he circled your clit, soaking the duo with your juices as you moaned out for him, slowly writhing in place.

You threw your head back from the sheer ecstasy and cried out at the ceiling above. “Ooh shit-“

“Look at me.” He commanded, bringing your focus back to him once more. “I want to see how pretty you look when you cum on my fingers.”

Wooyoung planted a soft kiss against your cheek just as he inserted his two digits inside of you, pushing past your slick walls and beginning to pump his wrist inside of you, picking up that speed and translating all the power into his forearm and then his entire arm. The room was filled with the harmonious sounds of your juices squelching against his hand and your pretty moans that were music to his ears.

“That’s it baby. Let it out..” Wooyoung coached into your ear, holding you tight while he watched his middle and ring finger appear and disappear inside of you repeatedly, fully coated in your liquids. “That shit feels good doesn’t it?”

“It feels so fucking good..” You cried out to him with a shaky voice. “Please don’t stop..”

The intensity of him pushing into you was almost too much for you to bear, but it just felt too good to have him pull back now. You wrapped your arm around where his wrist and forearm met and gripped onto him tightly, your toes curling at the sensation running through your body. You were teetering at the edge now— your eyes rolling steeply to the back of your head, your vision growing more hazy by the second. Wooyoung kissed the side of your head, your jawline, your neck rhythmically fulfilling your every desire.

You were growing closer to your end, every moan increasing in pitch and frequency. If there were anybody passersby outside the door, you were sure that they could hear you, but you almost didn’t care. It felt too good to hold back.

“Your moans are so pretty. I can’t wait to hear how good you sound when I fuck you…” Wooyoung growled into your ear.

You inched your hand up towards Wooyoung’s neck, cupping it just around his jaw and turning him towards you. “I want to feel you inside me. I can’t take it anymore..”

You searched his face for a moment. His eyes were glossed and practically sparkling with a deep, unsatiated lust. He had a need for touch— a thirst for it. A soul that required physical connection. That was a quality you both shared. Now that you experienced him, you couldn’t get enough and wanted more. If you didn’t have him now, you felt like you could explode. Wooyoung recognized this and pulled his fingers out of you, soothing your throbbing mound with the palm of his hand; giving you some time to breathe. He stepped back and removed his last article of clothing. His briefs hit the ground with a dull thud as his girth jolted from the seams, pointing stiffly towards you. Your mouth started watering at the sight. His dick was just as pretty as the rest of his body and the size fit him perfectly.

Inching towards you, the man pulled you off the surface of the vanity by your waist and eagerly flipped you around to face the mirror. With your frame slightly bent over the counter you saw him snake himself into the cusp of your neck, moving the thick strands of your hair out of the way so that he could see your face. “I want you to watch yourself.. don’t look away.”

You couldn’t believe that you were doing this. Tucked away in a dressing room with an idol. With him. At your own place of work. As much as you wanted some semblance of shame to come, it just never did. As all you could think about in this moment was him taking you and equally how bad you wanted him. You were reminded how good this moment truly felt when he planted a kiss on the exposed part of your shoulder and slowly eased his way inside of your slickness. Your mouth fell agape as did his; your tight walls gripping around the curve of his inches the more he pushed inside of you. His length fit you perfectly, as you completely gloved his inches.

“Fuck..” he whined. “You feel so good.”

With him so close, you could smell the freshness of his cologne. It was strong and commanding, but also hypnotic in many ways. His breath capes your neck, making your hairs stick up on end. His deep, guttural groans as he started stroking inside of your moist cavity only triggered your own moans. And still you did as he instructed you to and watched him fuck you so lovingly. The vanity rocked underneath your weight, causing you to slightly shift off balance and grip onto the table so it did not move. Wooyoung started to pick up his pace, the force of him hitting you from behind, sending your ass colliding against his pelvis in thick waves. He pulled back, catching the force head on as he reached forward and grabbed a handful of your coils and pulled your head back just a bit to where you can still see yourself in the mirror.

“Mmm, you’re such a pretty fucking whore for me.” Wooyoung chuckled lowly. “Look at how good you take that shit.”

The sensation was overwhelming your senses. Your walls pulsated across his thick member, releasing and gripping him constantly. Still reeling from when he was fingering you just a few minutes prior, you could still feel yourself coming closer and closer to your inevitable demise. The pressure in your abdomen was building like a dam about to burst. Even with the stamina that you two had, you could feel that he was close along with yourself. His breath was beginning to hitch and grow more rapid than before. You could feel his dick twitching inside of you as well even with the strength of his pumps.

You dared to stare at him amidst the euphoria you were experiencing out of curiosity as well as purely being enamored with the beauty of the man before you. You watched the way his chest rose and fell from his heavy breathing followed by the intensity of his orgasms. Sweat beads across his skin, giving way to the light that shines overhead. It was more pleasurable for you to know that he was enjoying himself as much, if not more, than you were.

Your lips curled upwards, licking across your own as Wooyoung sang your praises for taking him so well. Especially since it wasn’t just coming from anyone. Despite the circumstances of how you may have gotten here, you knew that he felt that this was more than just sex. You weren’t just engaging in a little hit it and quit it, no, it meant more. The purest form of connection that any person could ever experience, especially, when it stemmed from deep yearning – hoping that each other would wake up to the truth. There was no turning back from this moment forward.

“Fuck, I’m about to cum!” You exclaimed in a huff, urging him on as his thrust kept pumping into your tight walls, and his grin grew wider as he felt your coming climax brewing.

“That’s right, be a good girl and cum for me.” He coaxed. You felt like you were on cloud nine as you coated his dick with your juices. He leaned down into you, pressing your stomach against the table, and wrapped his arm around your shoulders and gripped your neck so roughly that you could see the veins in his arms poking from beneath his sandy skin.

Your moans were broken and incomplete, forming into a ball of nonsense tumbling from your mouth. You put the last bit of your energy into giving him everything you had, bucking your hips against his length.

“Cum in me baby..I want all of you. You primed softly. You didn’t know what came over you just then as you had never uttered those words to anyone before, but you just couldn’t control yourself in the moment and neither could he.

Sending his hips forward in powerful bursts of passion, Wooyoung growled hellishly into your ear the closer he got to his own end. The fullness of his climax painting your insides like his own personal canvas. You came with, riding out the last of your cum, before you dropped to the table, digging your nails into the wood and scratching against it from the final feeling of release. All your pent up frustrations over the last few months flowing down your thighs and onto his inches.

A light laugh escaped his lips, sighing as he closed his eyes and hovered over your weakened and fragile body.

“Do you think they’ll know?” He asked playfully.

You let out a half-hearted chuckle. “I guess we’ll have to find out.”

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