#but the art demons possessed me and I got it done in like 20 minutes

[rosedeleca]

Rose album cover :)

[theodore-themilkman]

That's Not On The Script

In which you go a little off script.

Ships: JensenxPregnant!Reader

Reader Gender: Female

Reader Age: 25+

WARNINGS: mentions of premarital sex (is that even a warning?), the reader is pregnant, sandwich scenario is heavily based off of an incident that occurred when my cousin was pregnant, character reader plays is named Lora

-There Is No Road So Far So We're Jumping Right In-

"Goddammit Lora!" Jensen, or more Dean, said with obvious frustration is his voice. "I can't read minds! Just tell me what the problem is. You've been acting so different lately, hell if I didn't know any better I'd say you were possessed."

I glared at him fiercely, crossing my arms. "There isn't a problem Dean, you're just looking for things to criticize."

He laughed humorlessly. "If that's the case then I don't have to look very hard. You don't think I've noticed? You avoiding me? Running out of the room when I come in? Is it because you regret it, that night?"

My eyes had gone glossy as he spoke and for a moment I forgot we were only acting. Although it was easy to forget, after all Lora and Dean were in the same situation Jensen and I were in. In the last season, filmed about four months ago, Lora and Dean had hooked up on the show and the sexual tension that had occurred while filming got to the both Jensen and I and we slept together. Only, much like Dean and Lora, Jensen and I refused to bring it up. Except now, in the scene where Lora was supposed to admit that she had fallen in love with Dean except that isn't what came out of my mouth.

"I'm pregnant, okay?" It was quiet, I don't think anyone had expected me to say that. "And you're the father," I added in a whisper.

Jensen stared at me mouth open in shock. "But that night... we used protection." I don't know if he was continuing the scene or if he was speaking as Jensen, either way I continued.

"I know," I choked out, "but it must've torn or something and now -" a sob broke out, "-now there's this baby growing inside me and I can't bring myself to get rid of it."

Jensen stepped forward and wiped the tears rolling down my cheeks, then his hands went to my stomach. As he placed them there I was sure he could feel the small bump that was concealed by the baggy flannel I wore. "And I would never ask you to. We'll get through this, okay? You, me and," he looked to my stomach, "our baby."

"Cut!" Both our heads snapped to look at Robert and the rest of the crew, they all stood there staring at us.

"Wow," Robert told us walking closer to us. "That was unexpected but it works. When did you two discuss changing the scene."

I looked to my shoes. "We didn't."

"Wait you mean..." he trailed off looking between Jensen and I.

"Yeah, I really am pregnant."

-Line Break-

I smiled warmly, placing my hands on my swollen abdomen as I watched the boys answer another question in that funny way that only they could pull off.

"Y/N," I looked to the young blonde girl that had spoken and nodded indicating that she continue. "I was wondering is you could tell us how Jensen reacted when he found out about you know the whole pregnancy thing?"

I laughed, as did Jensen and the rest of the cast. "Well, I assume you've watched the latest episode?" She nodded. "That scene where Lora reveals the pregnancy to Dean is also when I revealed that I was pregnant."

Her mouth fell open. "So that was genuine, no lines or scripts or anything?"

I shook my head. "In the script Lora was supposed to admit that she had fallen for Dean but I kinda broke character and it slipped out."

"The best is that everyone else thought that we'd talked about it before shooting and Y/N had to explain that nope, she's actually pregnant."

"Jared punched Jensen," Misha added.

The blonde looked perplexed. "Why?"

"Y/N is my little sister and best friend or not no one can sleep with my baby sister and face no repercussions," Jared explained.

Misha started laughing remembering what had followed after Jared punched Jensen. The crowd and cast alike stared art him in curiosity. "Y/N's reaction to the punch," he said as if that would explain it. 

J2 both started laughing at the memory and I flushed, embarrassed at what I had done. The fan that had asked the original question glanced between all of us looking intrigued. "What happened?" 

"Do you want to tell them or should I?" Jensen asked me teasingly.

I flushed further and shook my head, unable to speak of the embarrassing moment aloud. "All right, I'll tell them," he laughed. "So I had just been given a good right hook in the face by sasquatch over there then Y/N burst into sobs and stormed off. Misha, Jared and I followed after her (albeit in a bit of pain on my part). We met her at the kitchen and she was making a sandwich but she was still heavily sobbing. Being the oh so clever older brother Jared stepped forward-"

"Something you didn't do," Jared said cutting off his co-star.

"Are you kidding? I'd rather take on a demon than approach a crying hormonal woman. What you do is ward them off with hot bubble baths and chocolate until they calm down and then admit that you're wrong about whatever they're upset about ," Jensen explained as if it were a science he had perfected. "Anyway, Jared stepped forward and the next thing you know there's a moose covered in tuna, mayo and bread in the middle of the kitchen. Y/N is screaming at Jared that he's her least favourite Supernatural character and that she wished his character would be cursed to turn into a moose for the rest of the show. Misha and I just stood there, the rest of the crew must've heard the commotion because they were there too. And after 20 minutes of angry Y/N she turns around and offers to make everyone sandwiches."

"Did you guys have her make the sandwiches?" A fan called out over the laughter.

"Are you kidding? She had just thrown bread and tuna mayo at Jared, we weren't going to risk saying no," Jensen quipped good naturedly. He then proceeded to put an arm around me and rest his hand atop my swollen belly. "No but seriously, despite all the hormonal rage fits and the crying when she couldn't get a scene right I couldn't ask for a better baby mommy. Which is why," he removed his arm from around me and slipped onto one knee, "I'd like to make this official. Y/N L/N, Lora Pierce, Chipmunk, would you do me the honour of becoming my wife."

My hand had gone over my mouth in shock by the end of his proposal and tears blurred my vision as I caught sight of the ring he held in his hand. 

"Y/N?" He asked worriedly after a beat of silence.

"Okie dokie," I squeaked out.

-Bonus-

Misha stood up and pointed at me as if accusing me of something. We all looked at him. "That was part of a Destiel fan fiction!"

Laughter broke out throughout the hall.

-Cue End Music- 

[ohblackdiamond]

little t&a (paul/gene, nc-17) (part 5 of 29)

part 1   part 2   part 3   part 4   part 5   part 6   part 7   part 8   part 9   part 10   part 11   part 12   part 13   part 14   part 15   part 16   part 17   part 18   part 19   part 20   part 21  part 22   part 23   part 24    part 25   part 26   part 27   part 28   part 29 Four weeks before KISS gets back on tour, Gene discovers that Paul’s been cursed by a groupie. For the sake of KISS’ finances, Paul’s comfort levels, and Gene’s libido, this crisis must be resolved. Sexswap fic. In this chapter: Gene tries to reason out some deep-seated denial, and Peter defends Paul.

           Normally, Paul could spend hours in clothing stores. Tight jeans, platform boots, designer blouses and ascots. Feathery jackets and animal print coats. He’d dressed as wildly as possible from the time he was twelve or thirteen on, saving up every dime to buy new clothes, always hoping they’d be the ticket to feeling—oh, like they did. Like other people must. Confident and swaggering. Gene had been like that from the very start, even though, when he’d met Gene, Gene had been easily forty pounds overweight and was wearing overalls that only emphasized his gut.

           That had been a pretty rude awakening for Paul. He’d realized it wasn’t in looking the part. Confidence was something inherent. Offstage, he couldn’t ever seem to purchase more than small slivers of it. And he didn’t think he could purchase it now (well, on Gene’s dime), in a mid-tier boutique, self-consciously shoving his way through racks of bras. Gene hadn’t told him to pick one up, but he hadn’t had to, either. He’d known he needed one from the start; it kind of hurt to run up stairs without any support, and the nightclub would be fucking awful without a bra, but he’d just kept putting it off. As if this female body would go away if he refused to acknowledge it, like a groupie left to linger in the Coop until morning.

           Speaking of groupies, he was still wondering about the one who’d cursed him. He could sort of remember her face as Suzie had described her, but it was puzzling. The S&M bit had been relatively light, no whips or toys, and she hadn’t come across like a nut. She’d said he’d had her before. That didn’t mean much, either. Especially in certain areas, he’d end up with some of the same groupies again. Sweet Connie, for one—the only girl Paul knew for a fact had fucked every single member of the band, and half its roadies—and there were plenty others. It was almost a wrestling circuit; the girls all knew each other, even if he didn’t know them.

           But what could he really have done to make that girl that mad? He couldn’t remember promising a chick much of anything in several years. Sometimes he’d get a bit sloppy with it, toss the girl some cab fare as he asked her to leave (she’d think he meant it as a tip, and throw it back at him), but he didn’t get off on humiliating them like some guys did. They came with the room, that was all. Stress relief. God knew he’d heard of plenty of rockstars and movie stars who’d Quaalude the hell out of whatever girl (or guy) they wanted. But he’d never done something like that. Fuck, his chicks were actually sober.

It really didn’t add up. Gene was triple the cad than he was, and he still had his dick. Peter and Ace cheated constantly on their wives, but Lydia and Jeanette hadn’t joined forces and sent a sex-changing demon after them. Whatever. He exhaled, taking four bras of slightly different sizes back to the dressing room and trying on each in turn, wishing he’d let the shopgirl help. The clasps were annoying enough that he ended up having to fasten the bras in the front, squashing his chest in the process, then turn the whole thing around just to put it on. The third bra out of the stack seemed to fit the best, a cream-colored underwire one that wasn’t too padded or too heavy on the lace and flowers. It looked okay reflected in the dressing room mirror, if a little stupid, paired with the boxers he was still stubbornly clinging to.

           After another ten minutes or so, he’d also picked out a few pairs of underwear and a pair of fishnet stockings. Another half an hour and he had a fake leather jacket, graphic tee, cut-off jean shorts, and a pair of boots. He didn’t really dig the ensemble in the mirror. More that he didn’t dig the unhappy girl in the mirror any more than he dug the unhappy guy he usually saw there. But maybe he’d look punk enough for CBGB. Would he need more clothes than that, though? On the chance that she didn’t show, or, worse, didn’t reverse the curse? Paul’s stomach churned at the thought. He got another dress, two blouses, heels, and a pair of jeans, deciding he’d write Gene a check for everything once this was all over.

           By the time he headed to check out, Gene was already waiting for him with his own bag of already-paid-for clothes. Paul tried to get a peek—he didn’t think Gene could go believably punk without intense help—but Gene held his two bags closed, pulling out a credit card to cover Paul’s purchases.

           “Hey, that’s not fair. I could use the laugh, show me what you bought.” Aggravating enough to have Gene watch the clerk ring up the bra and underwear.

           “Later.” Gene looked positively amused. Paul grabbed his own bags of clothes as soon as they were paid for, oblivious to the raised eyebrow the clerk threw Gene’s way for not carrying the bags for him.

           “If you won’t show me, don’t expect me to drive you anywhere for lunch.”

           The clerk perked up.

“Your girl’s driving? She’s got you by the balls.”

           “You have no idea,” Gene said.

--

           They ended up going through the McDonald’s drive-thru for lunch without Gene having to divulge any of his purchases. Paul had dug up enough change from the middle console to pay for it, and he was chatting up a storm about CBGB’s semi-resident bands—Blondie, apparently, was a pretty good act—between handfuls of French fries.

           “It doesn’t hold a ton of people, either, so if the groupie’s there, we’ll know pretty quickly. It’s not wall-to-wall like at Studio 54.” Paul shook his head. “Have you gone over there yet, Gene?”

           “Not yet.” He’d meant to. The disco had just opened when they’d gotten off tour. The big stars had already marked it as their territory, people like Mick and Bianca Jagger, Diana Ross, and Liza Minnelli. The prospect of being in their league was its own intoxicant. “Have you?”

           “Yeah, once. Y’know, I saw Andy Warhol there. He said he wanted to paint me.” Even through the food, Paul sounded pleased. “I kinda blew him off, I think he was just trying to come on to me, but hell, it might be fun.”

           “Getting with Warhol?”

           “Getting painted by Warhol. Jesus, Gene.” He paused. “He’s not my type.”

          “You’re not his type, right now.”

          Paul looked a little stung, but didn’t retort for a second or two.

          “What do you care, anyway?”

           Gene stuffed about a third of the burger in his mouth and shrugged.

          “I don’t.”

          “Remember when he did the Marilyn Monroe screen prints? Everyone in my class was trying to make their own versions, and our teacher…”

          Paul kept trailing off about his art magnet high school. Gene was only half-paying attention. Something strange and almost possessive had curdled in the back of his throat. He took a swig of his cup of Coke, but the feeling persisted. Maybe it was the dissonance. Girls worth talking to didn’t dismiss fucking so casually. Paul wasn’t really a girl, sure—well, he was, but—

          “You’re not listening.”

          “I don’t know anything about art, Paul.”

          “You do. You draw. You used to show me your comics. Everybody knows something about art. Everybody knows what they like about it.” Paul exhaled. “Look, you’ve gotta be getting tired of my place. I’ll take you home, meet you at the club tonight?”

          “You really want to do that?”

          “Yeah, of course I wanna go to the club. I’m not losing my whole life because of one groupie.”

          “You’d be okay getting there by yourself?”

          “I—yeah, I’d be okay.”

          “Just take us back to your place.”

          “I’d be fine, really—”

          “No, take us both back.”

          “What, you think I can’t drive over there by myself?”

          “Maybe I like your company, Paul.”

          Paul reached for his soda cup. The edge of his mouth was starting to twitch up.

          “Yeah? Maybe I like yours.”

--

           By the time Paul pulled into the driveway, Gene was feeling a little sluggish. Two Big Macs, French fries, Coke, and most of Paul’s Sprite sat heavy on his stomach. He figured he’d take a nap on Paul’s couch or in his guest bedroom. Maybe play some records after, if that didn’t tear at Paul too much. Maybe get a quick dinner at a restaurant before heading to that nightclub—he almost thought he could talk Paul into it now.

           Paul seemed to have about the same idea. He kicked off the tissue-stuffed heels and headed to his bedroom, leaving the door open. Gene watched him hang up all his purchases before doubling back to the door.

           “I’m gonna sleep for a bit,” Paul called out. “You can turn the T.V. on if you wanna, I don’t care.”

           Gene nodded, and Paul shut the door, leaving him alone with his thoughts. He shucked off his own shoes and stretched out on the orange velour couch in the living room, feeling weirdly nostalgic. The last time he’d really been at Paul’s place for more than an afternoon, Paul’s place had been his parents’ place. They’d be at the kitchen table, talking about records, bumming their way through Beatles songs on their acoustic guitars, while Paul’s baby niece squalled in the background. He’d never admit it, but he envied the noise in that apartment. The coiled-up tension Paul assured him lay just beneath the surface was something he never saw.

           Paul had rarely gotten past the door of Gene’s house when his mother was around. His mother thought Paul was the Lampwick to his Pinocchio, eagerly leading Gene into a world of sin he’d already partaken in and a world of drugs he’d never touched. Paul’s ego had been sufficiently bruised by the assumption that he never tried to convince her otherwise. But Gene was sort of wondering now. If Paul had been a chick instead of a guy when they met, some mousey, bitchy friend-of-a-friend that played a little guitar and wanted to start a band, would his mother have liked him any better? Would Paul being a Jewish girl, if nothing else, have been enough to save him, her, whatever? Probably not.

           Would he have gone after Paul then?

           Probably.

           Anyway, it didn’t matter. He didn’t plan on going after Paul now. They’d get this reversed soon enough, and once the tour started back again, he’d be up to his neck in Playboy Playmates and groupies, all way easier on the eyes and the wallet and the brain than a girl with a gap tooth and a terminal case of nerves. Yeah. Yeah.

           He watched the cuckoo clock on the wall for a while, the one that Paul had gotten during their last Europe tour, waiting for the bird to pop out from the little hatch. But it, like everything else, seemed to be taking its time. Gene sighed, getting up from the couch and heading for the T.V.—what was on this time of day, anyway? Gunsmoke reruns? The only thing that stopped him from finding out was a knock on the door.

           He opened it without thinking, figuring it was the mailman delivering another of Paul’s occult books. Instead, he was met with Peter, wearing his version of casual—jeans, a vest, a pinstripe shirt, and a handful of necklaces—and a bewildered look.

           “You’re still over here?”

           “How’d you know I was over here?”

           “Ace told me. Where’s Paul?”

           Shit.

           “He’s not in right now.”

           Peter looked him up and down suspiciously.

           “Then are you gonna let me in?”

           Despite himself, Gene’s glance went to the bedroom door almost on automatic. If he could get rid of Peter fast enough, Paul wouldn’t wake up.

           “C’mon,” he said finally. Peter stalked in without hesitation. Gene had half-expected him to take a seat, but he didn’t, looming in the living room like he was certain he was being let out of the loop, without being told.

           “Look, maybe Ace can write off all sorts of shit, but I can’t.”

           “What do you mean?”

           “He won’t see anybody, he won’t talk to anybody. He gets into fucking voodoo. He has you call up Ace for his psychic. Says you’ll make sure Paul calls me back and he doesn’t. But everything’s cool, everything’s great—”

           “Pete—”

           “Something’s the matter. Paul ain’t that kind of a nut! Now, either he lost his mind or you’re pulling one on him, but either way, something’s screwed-up here. I’m not leaving until I talk to him.”

           “You’ll be waiting awhile.”

           “I’ve got time.”

           “Pete, really, he’s gonna be out until pretty late, don’t you think—”

           “No, I don’t. I’m staying. You want me out, call the fucking cops. Get a real nice headline going—"

           The bedroom door creaked open. Peter turned around immediately, Gene following suit. Paul was standing in the doorway, still in that floral dress from earlier that afternoon. Gene bit his lip.

           “It’s you again!” Paul seemed to cave in on himself with every word out of Peter’s mouth, stepping back. “You—I see how this is!”

           “Peter,” Gene started again, “Peter, listen, it isn’t—”

           “You fucking asshole!” Peter grabbed Gene’s arms, oblivious to or maybe just not caring about the weight and height Gene had on him. “How the fuck could you do that to him?!”

           “You’ve got it wrong, I’m not—listen, Pete, I—”

           “You’re fucking his girlfriend! Your best friend! Paulie’s fucking losing it and what do you do, you move in on his girl! Move in on his house! You motherfucking pig!” Pete advanced, or tried to. Gene twisted away his grip, grasping his wrists. Pete yanked himself free easily, stalking forward, forcing Gene back, closer and closer to the wall.

           “Pete, calm down.”

           “I won’t! This ain’t stupid band shit, Gene! This ain’t fucking solos! You got no right to do this!”

           “Stop it.” It was Paul. Gene stared, stunned, as Paul stepped out of the doorway and into the living room, face pale. Peter was watching, too, looking disgusted. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”

           “He wouldn’t?” Peter started to laugh. “Baby, he’s done it to every chick that got within three feet of him.”

           “Pete, please.” Paul was biting his lip, breaths hard. “Pete, I’ve gotta tell you, listen—”

           “Don’t,” Gene cut in, but Paul didn’t listen. God only knew why. Gene could tell Paul was scared as hell, even as he stepped between them, taking Peter’s arms. Even Peter had about an inch on him now. Surprisingly, he didn’t pull back. “Don’t do it, you don’t need to.”

           “I’ve got to. Peter, I—” He let go of one of Peter’s arms, pulling down the right shoulder of his dress to expose his tattoo. “I’m... damn it, Peter, you know who I am.”

           Peter’s face contorted.

           “What the hell are you doing? What’s that supposed to prove?”

           “You and me, w-we went on vacation together last year. To Hawaii.”

           “Bullshit, I went with Lydia! I’ve never gone anywhere with you in my life!”

           Paul was staring at Peter like he’d just been slapped, but he kept his grip on Peter’s arm like a lifeline. Gene didn’t know how to help him. Part of him wanted to just go straight between the two of them and scream at Peter to get out of there, never mind the fallout on both sides after. But he didn’t. Instead he just watched as Peter tossed away Paul’s hold like it was nothing at all, shoving him back, hard enough Paul stumbled backwards, hitting his leg on the coffee table. Peter turned to Gene.

           “You think you can do anybody any fucking way, don’t you? Fuck Paul, right? Fuck him and his crazy broad. That’s the way you are. Loyalty don’t even matter to you.”

           “Peter—”

           “Forget it. I’m out of here.”  Peter stalked to the door, shouting as he yanked it open. “Don’t think I won’t tell him what you’ve done! I don’t give a shit if it splits us up!”

[shoalfoodblog]

Earthshine, Chapter 2

Again, I don’t consider myself a writer whatsoever but I guess I’m following my compulsions. We’ll see how long I keep doing this, but yeah. Here’s more??? Sorry if it’s lame or anything is wrong, etc. Just doing this for fun~~~

Sesskag. 

First Chapter

Kagome had seen more battles than most decorated soldiers in her time. She’d waged a war against an unspeakable evil and lived to tell the tale. And from those experiences, she’d learned a thing or two about strategy. 

Information is everything. Namely; know your enemy. If you can think like them, you’ll be two steps ahead at all times and be able to guide them into your trap. 

Mostly Naraku had done this brand of bamboozling to their group, but that's besides the point because it worked. They’d all been tricked and lead like lambs to slaughter more than once by that creature. And while Kagome wouldn’t normally be molding her behaviors off a maniacally evil megalomaniac, desperate times called for desperate measures.

Not that she was desperate.

With her mind made up on seducing Sesshomaru, daiyoukai of the west, most powerful AND beautiful demon in the four territories, and veritable icicle, Kagome knew she had to think ahead. 

It was disconcerting to realize that if she were to list things she knew he liked, she wouldn’t even use up the fingers on one hand. 

1.) Fighting. She imagined he got bored defeating opponents so easily. He was a beautiful and deadly figure on the battlefield without match. The lack of worthy challenges probably explained all of the spontaneous “friendly” bouts with Inuyasha (which Kagome vehemently disapproved of, since it was her supplies she’d burn through patching up the battered half demon) over the past few years since Rin came to live in the village.  

2.) Knowledge. This one was subtler. When he’d seen some of her futuristic objects while visiting Rin, he’d ask her pointed questions, his intense stare giving no room for anything but a full and thorough answer. These were always followed by an almost inaudible hum of acknowledgement, and a swift departure. Kagome supposed dogs were often curious creatures, so why should dog demons be any exception? 

3.) Rin. This did not translate to humans as a whole whatsoever. Just Rin. He maybe tolerated some others, but he definitely didn’t like them. In all likelihood he held a quiet disdain, but Kagome figured she was at least in the ‘tolerated’ camp, considering he trusted her with his charge, so that was encouraging.

Thinking of Rin, caused Kagome to smile. Rin was a wonderful girl, even if she suffered from the effects of a serious case of hero worship for her Lord. Kagome remembered countless times where they’d spend time together, harvesting herbs and naming the blooms they came across. The now teenaged girl didn’t really have any female figures in her life, so Kagome filled in the roll by default. She genuinely adored Rin, and suspected Rin found a good friend in return. So really this point wouldn’t be an issue. 

As far as fighting went, Kagome was a decent shot, but sparring with the daiyoukai seemed like signing a death wish. 

Now. His curiosity. Kagome knew she was a novelty to him. Even if he wasn’t interested in her exactly but in the information she had about the future, it was at least a doorway in to some decent conversation. But what could tempt the stoic demon lord? He’d seen most of her futuristic belongings she kept in this era.

She really couldn’t, in good conscience, divulge information that could change the future, just in case this didn’t work out. So no politics, investment strategies, nor extreme advancements in engineering. 

Cultural tidbits would be safer. 

Music?

No. She imagined her tastes would appall him. Pop music with all of its thick instrumentation and driving rhythms didn’t exactly fit with her image of him and she’d rather appear dignified then explain why pop music was… well, popular in her era. 

Art? 

She would be the first to admit she didn’t know shit about art.

Food?

Kagome struggled to imagine Sesshomaru eating. Maybe she was guilty of putting him on a pedestal, but such a normal, everyday act seemed out of place for him. She’d certainly never seen him eat, but that wasn’t really saying much given the longest time they’d been in each other’s company was when he was fighting with Inuyasha. Also what could she prepare him that would be both impressive and appealing to a dog demon?

She decided to consult Rin. 

A direct approach was always best. Searching out her young friend Kagome inquired 

“Rin-chan. I was curious. What does Sesshomaru-sama eat?”

Rin stilled her hands, which were busy tying up herbs to dry in Kagome’s storehouse. Turning to Kagome, she gave the universal shrug of ‘I have absolutely no clue’ 

“Huh. Rin never saw him eat, now that Rin thinks about it. Or Rin just wasn’t paying attention.” 

Kagome huffed in frustration, maybe a little louder than she should have, because Rin furrowed her brow at her. 

“Why do you ask, Kagome-oneesan?” 

It was imperative Rin not catch on to her plans. She needed a reasonable excuse. One would appear any moment. Seem calm, you crazy woman.

“Oh! Well you see… I just wanted to offer him something as thanks for taking such good care of you all these years. I feel very thankful to have Rin-chan in my life. It may be too forward though… just forget I said anything”

Nailed it. 

“Rin is also happy she knows Kagome-oneesan! And is grateful to Lord Sesshomaru for bringing her to your village!”

She was clutching the fresh cuttings closely to her chest, beaming up at the older woman. The picture of earnestness. 

“I’m sorry but Rin doesn’t know what Lord Sesshomaru would like to eat! Rin only knows Lord Sesshomaru doesn’t eat human food. He told me when we first met and I tried to give him some fish, and other things”

Huh. Well, that was…less than helpful. 

“Don’t worry Rin-chan! I’ll think of something to give him. Don’t fret about it” Kagome tossed her a reassuring smile while she set about finishing their work. Reaching to tie the next bundle up to dry, Kagome, ever the optimist, was sure she’d think of something.

That was two weeks ago. She’d gained no ground since. 

Her brainstorming had lead her down very uncomfortable roads. She shuddered as she recalled that Koga’s pack used to survive by eating humans. And when she asked Shippo, he just shrugged and said dogs were “weird that way” but couldn’t provide any specifics. Sango said there just wasn’t a lot of research her village had done on dog demons since they generally stayed away from messing with human settlements.

Dog Demons. You’d think they’d be as easy to please as their mortal counterparts. 

Kagome was contemplating chucking a box of milk bones at the demon lord and taking her chances.

Maybe a change of scenery would shake an idea loose in her brain. It had been a while since she’d visited her family, and her childhood home always helped to clear her mind.

…

Sliding the door open to her family’s house, she was greeted by the sweet aroma of freshly baked goods. 

“Tadaima, Mama! Souta! Ojii-chan!”

“In here, dear!” 

Following her mother’s voice to their kitchen, she arrived in time to see her pull a fresh sheet of cookies from the oven. 

“Kagome! It’s so good to have you home! And with such good timing! I just made some peanut butter cookies. Would you like-“

Peanut butter. Lightning ricocheted through Kagome’s mind. Her breath hitched, and her eyes grew wide.

An epiphany held her in place. A eureka moment erupted across her consciousness.  

It couldn’t be that simple!

Glancing around, she spied the half-empty jar of peanut butter still out on the counter, a spoon jutting from the top. Kagome fumbled with the container, her hip bumping the table in her haste to get back through the well.

“-some to take to your friends?” 

And with that, the matron of the Higurashi family was left alone with a full tray and an empty room. Hearing the front door slam, she exhaled and began to wonder. Would her daughter ever settle down long enough to lay down some real roots? 

…

‘Peanut butter! Dogs loved peanut butter!’

Kagome swallowed a triumphant shout. It was the best idea she’d had yet. Even if it was the only idea she’d had. 

It had been 10 days since Sesshomaru had last checked on his ward, and since you could predict the tides based on the precision of his schedule, Kagome knew he’d be checking on Rin today at dusk. 

That gave her…maybe 20 minutes to catch her breath and set her trap.

Kagome clambered up the rope ladder they’d installed in the well, jar in hand, and made her way down the path towards her home. Upon rounding the corner to the field it was settled in, she noticed Rin, who often watched her home when Kagome was away, was siting by the entrance with a flower crown gently held in her hands.

The young girl perked up as she caught sight of her sisterly figure. 

“Kagome-oneesan! Welcome home! Rin thought you wouldn’t be back until tomorrow!”

“Ah - I uh, hello Rin-chan! Well you see I forgot to bring my mother - uh” glancing around she eyed the circlet of blooms in her young friend’s hands “Flowers! I was going to pick her some flowers!”

“Oh! That’s wonderful Kagome-oneesan!” 

She felt awful fibbing to Rin. But these were dire times. 

Kagome slumped on the stump near the entrance of her home where she would split wood for the hearth, trying to catch her breath. Rin sidled closer to her, then noticed the strange container Kagome had in her possession.

“What are you holding, Kagome-oneesan?” gesturing with her eyes towards the young miko’s grasp.

With an exhale, she lifted the container towards Rin. 

“It’s a snack from my home. It’s called Peanut butter. It’s kind of sticky, and nutty, but it’s not really made of nuts, it’s made from legumes I think? - I don’t know if we have peanuts here - and I’m rambling, It’s kind of sweet and salty. ” Noticing the spark in Rin’s eyes, she also added “Would you like to try it?”

“Oh! Could Rin?!” She leaned forward clutching the wreath to her chest. She was too infectious. Kagome entertained the passing thought that in the future, Rin would be able to wrap any man she wanted around her finger. 

“Of course! You might not like it however… I think it’s kind of an acquired taste.” Kagome retrieved the spoon from the jar, wiping any excess along the rim before handing it to the eager girl.

She popped the spoonful in her mouth. 

“It might be a little sticky, so don’t choke on the stuff.” Rin tried to pry open her mouth to respond but all that came out was a jumble of muffled syllables that had Kagome giggling brightly. Rin tried to talk between swallows of the sticky treat, but more stifled sounds escaped instead, which caused both women to erupt in peels of laughter. 

Neither of them noticed the third presence suddenly appear in front of them.

Sesshomaru arrived at the miko’s dwelling to discover the two human women in a puddle of frenzy, to such an extent that they both failed to mark his entrance. 

It was rare indeed for any being not to take immediate notice of the towering dog demon, so much so Sesshomaru wasn’t sure how else to gain the silly mortals’ attention. 

He set about employing the strategy he used in most of his dealings, thinking formidable thoughts and staring, sure his presence would speak for itself soon enough. 

He was wrong.

 The females were in hysterics. 

Wondering if, despite all reason, his imposing bearing had run thin Sesshomaru decided a more direct approach was necessary.

“Miko. Rin.” he intoned smoothly. Sesshomaru applauded himself when the females ceased at once.

The pair, now still, they turned to face the intimidating demon lord, fighting the urge to erupt into laughter once more. Of course Sesshomaru showed up right at this moment. 

“Lord Sesshomaru!” somewhat out of breath, Rin stood to greet her guardian. 

“Hn. This Sesshomaru trusts you’ve been well, Rin” He flicked his gaze over his charge, appraising her well-being.

“Oh yes, Lord Sesshomaru! We’ve just finished drying the spring herbs, and Kagome-oneesan has just shared a most interesting treat with Rin!” 

Gazing over the miko, he unabashedly sized her up, maybe for the first time, considering her fully. How long had Run bestowed the miko with that sisterly honorific? 

“Hn.” He swept his gaze over the woman, seeing as she fumbled with the strange container in her hands. 

“It’s nothing really, just a little something from my home” She waved her hand in mock bashfulness. Though flustered, Kagome hadn’t forgotten her self-appointed mission. She knew Sesshomaru was a curious creature by nature. She refused to give up more information than necessary. He’d have to come to her for answers. 

To Sesshomaru, the substance did not appear to be having any long lasting ill effects on his ward. Was it some sort of drug? Was this responsible for the fit of hysterics that descended upon the two? The miko stirred the thick mass in the strange pot she carried. Scenting the air, its aroma wafted towards him. It smelled unlike anything he’d encountered before. 

It smelled delicious. 

“Miko.” 

This was it. She had trained her attention on the demon lord and saw the moment the spark of curiosity flitted across his gaze. 

“Hai, Sesshomaru-sama?’ She continued to stir the peanut butter around in the jar, hoping the smell would be released more strongly into the air. 

“What is this substance you have given my ward?” He was the picture of disinterest, eyes gazing at some distant point on the horizon, busying himself by running his hand once across his mokomoko. 

Knowing the demon lord was painfully direct in all his dealings, Kagome realized he must be really tempted to put on this kind of show.

His actions confirmed her theory. She had him. 

“Would you like to try it?” Kagome offered him the handle of the heaping spoonful.

He would deny the small flare of his nostrils, and the twitch at the bottom of his mokomoko if anyone questioned him. 

“I do not eat human food, priestess” 

Kagome internally congratulated his commitment to his image. He even mustered a small sneer on his face. 

“Of course Sesshomaru-sama. How silly of me” Kagome smiled knowingly at the stubborn dog in front of her. Making a small show of it, she swiped a finger across the spoon and plopped it her mouth, humming in satisfaction, before setting the jar beside her on the stump. She could feel his eyes follow her movements.

“Well I’m sure you have more important things to do with your time, Sesshomaru-sama. I have a few things to take care of myself before nightfall, so I’ll take my leave. Safe travels. Rin, have a good night. I’ll see you tomorrow” 

“Yes! Thank you again Kagome-oneesan, Rin will see you soon!” 

Sesshomaru didn’t respond, instead turning on his heel,he departed towards the village, no doubt escorting Rin who trailed after him talking animatedly about something or other. 

Kagome didn’t call after them when she saw the jar of peanut butter was mysteriously gone. 

…

Elsewhere, with legendary control, Lord Sesshomaru, Ruler of the West and powerful Daiyoukai, resisted the urge to smack his lips when the miko’s strange and addictive morsel stuck to the roof of his mouth. 

The proud dog demon dissolved the empty plastic container with acid. 

There could be no evidence of his lapse of control.

[noonmutter]

Adventures in D&D part 6

- Party just woke up for the day and is headed out to the temple of Gond because they helped get a special material component for a new kind of weapon, and they want to witness the testing

- Right when they get there a dude in a cloak on horseback t-bones the paladin and party cleric says “HE’S GOT BLUEPRINTS”

- Paladin goes tearing off after him because paladin is a paladin of Gond and boy is she pissed off

- I go “can I cast Hold Person” because range is a thing and I genuinely don’t know how far away dude is yet

- DM says “...yes” after grumbling that he hasn’t statted anything out for the NPC

- Turns out this was supposed to be largely cinematic and my crowd-controlling ass just totally screwed that over but in my defense I asked and the DM said yes so really him bothering to roll a wisdom stat for the NPC and getting a 3 is his fault not mine

- Naturally the NPC fails the save and falls off the horse the instant it changes direction

- Commence the befuckening once party caught up with him, initiatives are rolled

- DM laughs triumphantly and says “He nat 20′d! He’s up!”

- Two more party members have their turns

- Mine’s up

- “I cast hold person again”

- “...you asshole”

- Fight ends very shortly after that because the party isn’t willing to totally murder the dude while he’s paralyzed

- They start interrogating him on the street

- He breaks the hold person again but whoop-de-doo he’s surrounded and on the ground

- Eventually starts messing about with a poison tooth

- Other party members go to stop him

- I go “Hey DM?”

- “...yes?”

- “I cast Hold Person again.”

- Long silence

- DM’s mic is open and we all hear thumping, I assume either his head or his hand beating his desk, and he eventually posts a screenshot of the NPC’s roll

- Even at advantage, he rolled a 1 both times

(I’m pretty sure this was the moment where I could officially call myself a Real Bard)

- “I fucking hate you”

- “YOU COULD’VE SAID NO AT ANY TIME”

- Anyway brosef is a prisoner of the Temple of Gond now and the DM is grumbling that as “punishment” we don’t get to see a really cool thing happen when the dude made his escape, to which I keep reminding him he allowed me to fuck up his plan and he can’t be mad at us for it

- Cleric casts zone of truth on the prisoner. It manages to affect two party members--Dumat included--and nobody else. Dumat knows this and sits down to hold his mouth shut and sulk

- Cleric then leaves the temple because he’s pretty sure the party’s going to torture the prisoner and he can’t participate or witness it but he doesn’t see an alternative

- By the way it’s important to mention that Dumat got ahold of Yeehaw’s Rootie Tootie Point n’ Shooty a while ago, which is a crossbow with a special ability that functionally allows him to shotgun a cone with it, but also is cursed and causes the user to grow a mullet, speak in a southern drawl, and not be able to put the crossbow down

- This was a funny gimmick for about 20 minutes before Sage Got Bored and started adding rules (after running them by the DM first)--like having to roll wisdom saves to not engage in “Hold My Beer” moments

- He has several saves to make before and during the interrogation of their prisoner

- He succeeds beautifully at all of them which is frustrating the shit out of me and the DM

- When he finally starts failing them, it’s a fuckin’ cascade of failures that result in things like shooting the restrained prisoner in the foot and then twisting the crossbow bolt around while saying shit like “Right about now I’d be tellin’ ya ta dance, but, well, that ain’t gonna work out so hot is it?” and responding to ‘I don’t fear death’ with “Well then we’ll just have to make sure y’don’t die now, won’t we?,” shooting at the Paladin--and later the cleric--when they say they should get that crossbow away from him, and shooting at the cleric because he’s being boring while reading from a holy book

- Eventually, during the torture parts, the cleric and paladin realize at about the same time that Dumat is not actually insane (the paladin remembered at the last minute that Zone of Truth was on Dumat and he wasn’t lying about the shit he was saying to this poor bastard, the cleric was just super upset by all the screaming) but is in fact possessed

- While the Paladin and Cleric are figuring out how to fix this, I go to the DM and say: “I demand that one of them be forced to a showdown in order to break the curse properly, in the "high noon" sense, Ready? DRAW! That”

- DM is On Fucking Board for this, party starts doing exorcism mumbo-jumbo, eventually Dumat’s bound body drops the crossbow and a smoky hand crawls out of it, eventually forming into the ghostly shape of a motherfucking cowboy followed by ethereal whistling of the intro notes for The Good, The Bad, And the Ugly theme

- I exclaim in voice chat OH MY GOD I HAVE ART FOR THIS and go digging through my old drawings, then produce:

- Voiced by me doing my best Frank Welker impression in a cowboy drawl, Original Character Do Not Steal (seriously though Buck is mine and I drew this in 2005, as the signature says)

- First time I open my mouth another party member goes “holy shit” and I feel warm inside

- The party actually tries to convince him to work for them and offers to let him take the body of the prisoner instead and offers him gold and stuff, to which he responds kinda like Izzy from The Mummy: 2, all “d’you think I can walk into a store and buy shit?”

- A conversation between the cleric (who insults his hat and has talking privileges revoked), paladin, and the demon who introduces himself as Buck eventually comes down to him proposing a duel for ownership of Dumat’s body, and the party rogue--who’s only been with the party for like two ingame days at this point--cheerfully agrees to be their shooter

- Back-to-back, ten paces, turn, fire (contested attack rolls)

- Duel ends like this:

"As Conny turns and fires, so does Buck. Time stands still--literally--as the twang of two crossbows fills the hall. For a moment, there's a faint ethereal sheen over Buck's crossbow, some kind of metallic cylinder. And the twang is not a twang, but a CRACK. Buck stands tall, longcoat whipping gently in a nonexistent breeze... as Conny feels a bolt enter her shoulder."

- Victorious, Buck turns to take Dumat and Shit Goes Down as the cleric steps in and casts spiritual guardians and good fucking christ this party is lucky they had two holy types who could do radiant damage because he takes a beating before he goes down

- Last thing he says before he dissipates into the ether is directed to the rogue (Conny), the paladin, and the wizard (the firebug): “See you in hell, little girls--wear somethin’ nasty”

- Crossbow drops to the ground and turns black like it’s been set on fire and allowed to cool, is promptly picked up by some acolytes with pole-hooks and put into a heavy box that the paladin is keeping close by

- I drink more fluids than you can possibly imagine for roughly an hour and a half and DMed a whole scenario because I thought it’d be cool

- I accidentally a Recurring Villain

- yay but what have i done

[nightmareonfilmstreet]

[Exclusive Interview] LUZ Director and Producer Talk Inspiration And The Power of The Supernatural

The German possession film Luz celebrated it’s North American premiere July 20, at the the 2018 Fantasia film festival. Writer/Director were welcomed by a sold-out crowd eager to see their fresh take on the possession sub-genre.

Luz is an experimental film that follows a young cabdriver on the run from a demonic presence. After running for safety into a police station, she is placed under hypnosis for in-depth interrogation, slipping in and out of different memories as they are recalled. Shot on 16mm, Luz is a darkly beautiful film that perfectly captures an authentic 80’s aesthetic. It is a strong debut from talented filmmakers that have crafted something I will not soon forget.

We had a chance to sit down and chat with writer/director Tilman Singer and producer Dario Mendez Acosta after the film’s premiere to discuss hypnosis, horror movies (and surprisingly), Ari Aster’s Hereditary.

      Nightmare on Film Street: [Luz] is a really interesting take on the demonic possession. Are you guys big fans of that genre?

Tilman Singer: I cannot say I am. I mean, I’m a big fan of movies like Possession and The Exorcist, of course but I don’t even know how many possession movies I’ve seen. It just came naturally over research because I was researching hypnotherapy, hypnosis, interrogation and questioning which is so suggestive that you cannot really find the truth when you question somebody. But it became a very clear tool for an evil entity in the movie. It was very devilish, you know, using hypnosis for bad. To manipulate somebody.

[…] People ask me, what were your influences? And of course, I am in love with Dario Argento movies and stuff like that but a lot of that were like, practical decisions that came to bit by bit. That it was a possession movie came later after I had a vision of that whole interrogation scene. And I thought I would be so great if it’s supernatural because hypnosis is something scary, kind of messing with somebody’s head.

  NOFS: I wanted to ask you about the run-time. It’s quite a bit shorter than than I thought it would be. I didn’t know that going in, so I and I didn’t feel like we were missing anything. I was curious if you just wrote it that way and said ‘there’s nothing else we need to add to this’ or if it was just something that happened in editing.

TS: Pretty much. The plan wasn’t to write a feature from the beginning since this is our thesis. I just knew I wanted to write something longer, to try out a little longer form of storytelling than we did before. I was aiming for, like 30 minutes. But then the story got so convoluted that you can’t tell this in 30, and became more and more and more, and we just ended up at 70 minutes. 

NOFS: What did that original 30 minute short look like?

TS: Pretty much just the interrogation, I’d say. And then the whole backstory of the character of Luz and her schoolmates and where she’s coming from, that I put on top on that interrogation. So there had to be like, kind of a foreplay and an aftermath. I think somebody called it a “long short” because it kind of is, you know? she’s entering the police station, and she’s leaving. It’s kind of a typical short movie narrative where you have one action you’re telling. Like, one visit to the store or visit to the police station and when she’s going out, movie’s over.

[…] After I knew, okay, this is gonna get a little bit more longer, and now I’m at like 40 minutes, but I still have a story to tell, I’m not done. I thought to myself, okay, I should at least go over 60, because that is like the threshold for festivals, for calling it a feature, for most of them to be accepted. So, I was going for it but then it naturally becomes 70 minutes. 

And since we didn’t really think of distribution as a thesis, I just didn’t care. And also, I mean, we shot on film and we really did the math on it. We bought exactly as much reels as we ended up shooting. Like, we had half half a reel left or something at the end.

          NOFS: So, a lot of this was done on first take?

TS: No, well there were some first takes but when you shoot film, it’s always good to have a second one because maybe there’s some kind of hair somewhere, even though you check of course. We have three takes in general. I don’t do rehearsals in advance. I do it all on set to get the tension and then you rehearse, rehearse, rehearse, and when you think, okay, now the energies, right, I think the next take will be the best that you have so far. And we’re on the energetic level and then we shoot. It’s so much fun.

NOFS: How was the screening last night? I was really glad to see that you guys sold-out.

TS: That was really nice. It was a really relaxed and nice screening. We had super good feedback and it was really sad to see people get turned away. They tried to fill up every possible spot but there were still people waiting. I even offered them my spot because I’m not really watching it anymore. […]And since I edited it myself, nowadays I just see like, oh this should have been shorter, this should have been longer. 

NOFS: How was the reception? How did the audience like it?

TS: I think they liked it very much. You know, I always do Q&A’s after, and I enjoy them always but I’m always a little bit shy. Last night I was a little bit stoned and I [asked] them “How did you like it”? And of course as like an audience, all of them getting requested and people were like “Oh, yeah, it was good” 

Dario Mendez Acosta: But I think it’s also a bit heavy for them because it’s always, “Yeah, I liked it but I don’t think I got everything”.

TS: And sometimes I don’t even watch Q&A’s. We watched Hereditary and Ari Aster, the director, was there but I did not want to talk about what I just saw. I just wanted to leave.

DMA: I was all in. I wanted to question him

TS: Yeah, you wanted to question him but I was like, ‘No, I don’t want this’, and I wanted to be with myself and like sort that shit out, you know?

DMA: And I was too scared. I don’t want to be alone. I’m there where the most people are

NOFS: It’s weird how many people didn’t like that movie [but] I really want a slow, low-key scare and I think that’s what you’re doing with Luz as well.

TS: Yeah, there’s no jump scares. Just a progression into more and more creepiness. 

            NOFS: So, you said you don’t watch a lot of horror movies?

TS: No, I do, I do. When I was a child I remember clearly I remember the time I was too young to watch horror movies. My parents didn’t let me but I was obsessed with like monsters and scary stuff and violence as a child and I remember my grandmother taking care of me for like two weeks when my parents were on vacation and I forced her to tell them the all the scary movies she’d seen in her life. And she hadn’t. I think she just made up movies and I have some kind of werewolf story in my head  that my grandmother clearly came up with because I tried to find it online and it does not exist the way she told it. But yeah I remember I  fought my parents to finally even watch things like Jurassic Park. I remember I was too young to see Jurassic Park and then I could and it was awesome and scary!

DMA: I’m not good for watching horror movies and, also all this new stuff, this jump scare stuff. This is not working for me and also, I don’t want to be scared but with Hereditary it’s just like it’s something happening there. It’s magical for me and when I asked him like I wanted to know his influences but also different artists to see [more diverse] art than just movie art. And he totally did that. He told me about like several photography artists and it’s interesting to me because I use this also for inspiration.

Tilman showed me a lot of old movies that I should watch that I should know for working on [Luz], like Suspiria and it was really helpful because it was like ‘oh man, it’s like all copper’ or whatever and it’s like ‘oh, you can do this,’ and it’s fine super freeing for me like oh yeah, thank you. I’m going to do that, thsi is really awesome. In general, like, horror movies, I don’t know. I don’t like to be scared, but you have this magic on me working. This is awesome.

        TS: For me it’s not really the scare or the horror, or the terror of it, it’s just- you know, you’re always looking for some kind of conflict and it comes natural with a horror movie or with a supernatural movie, and I like a supernatural element as a standard for something that might be concrete but you don’t want to put it into words. Like, I don’t know incest or rape you can just have a monster symbolically there for it and you can actually talk to more people and give them a safe space to enter, a space like this. For me because it’s so abstract, and then it really touches me emotionally because even though it’s more abstract, it’s about a monster or it’s about the devil or about anything, I don’t get so distant. 

NOFS: It gives you the ability to talk about it without feeling like you’re going to close to it. to close yes

TS: Yes, I think that’s what I like about horror movies

  Luz celebrated its North American premiere at the Fantasia Film Festival in Montreal on July 20th and was recently acquired by Yellow Veil Pictures. Read our full review of Luz HERE.

Check out more of Nightmare on Film Street’s Fantasia Fest Coverage here, and be sure to sound off with your thoughts over on Twitter and in our Facebook Group!

    The post [Exclusive Interview] LUZ Director and Producer Talk Inspiration And The Power of The Supernatural appeared first on Nightmare on Film Street - Horror Movie Podcast, News and Reviews.

from WordPress https://nofspodcast.com/luz-fantasia-interview-tilman-singer/ via IFTTT