#dark-skinned black fc

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Lidya Jewett is actually a wonderful actress and a beautiful girl and there are SOOOOO many opportunities to include her as an FC, but I feel like I don't really be seeing her on here. Ionlikedat.

If you use Lidya Jewett for an FC, tag me. I want to see more of her.

[imaginarianisms]

MISS RHAENA TARGARYEN???? 👀👀👀👀

[boroughshq]

Greetings! I've finally made some much needed updates to the rules. The majority of these updates are just administrative policies that were not explicitly stated before, with the major changes coming in the form of our diversity and character limit rules. These changes should hopefully encourage and promote the use of more diverse FCs, as well as help prevent inconsistent activity when picking up multiple muses. Please make sure to read the updates below carefully!

ACTION REQUIRED: Members, please like this post after reading. Thank you!

ACTIVITY CHECKS: Activity checks will be held every week. To meet activity, writers must post at least three (3) in-character interactions with two (2) different muns. Writers who have not met activity within the last 7 DAYS prior to the check will be given 48 hours to resume interactions. Failure to do so will result in an unfollow. Writers who are placed on consistent activity checks (3+) may also be subjected to an unfollow. Writers who have consistently been activity checked out of the group (5+) may also be subjected to denial of re-entry into the group.

FC CHANGES: There is currently no limit to the amount of times writers can request a change for the FC of their muses. If a FC change from a white FC to a FC of color is made, the writer will not be allowed to request a subsequent change back to a white FC. We ask that writers be mindful of their requests to ensure each change is in the service of their character. Should an admin feel like a writer is abusing this freedom, they are allowed to restrict the number of additional FC changes a writer can make. DIVERSITY: Every second character must be represented by a faceclaim of color. Please note that white latines (individuals of primarily Spanish or Portuguese descent, such as Pedro Pascal, Ana De Armas, and Chay Suede) are not people of color, and cannot be used to satisfy this requirement. Please make sure to do proper research and keep the ethnicity of your muse in mind when developing them. We also highly encourage the use of age diverse, body diverse, gender diverse, and ability diverse muses! Additionally, if you are writing a trans character, we highly encourage you to consider using a trans faceclaim when portraying these characters. Here is a link to a wonderful directory with over 200+ faceclaims to browse through! CHARACTER LIMIT: The character limit is currently set at 6 muses. Muns are allowed to apply for up to 2 muses upon first joining the group. After this, players must wait one week between each additional character they pick up. Please only pick up characters if you have the time to be consistently active on them. The admins reserve the right to deny applications should there be signs of inconsistent activity. Should the admins notice that members are not maintaining consistent activity across their muses, members may be asked to drop characters to help better their focus. Additionally, members must adhere to the following rules when picking up new characters: -If neither one of your first two characters are BIPOCs (black or indigenous people of color) or dark-skinned, your third character must be. -If none of your first three characters fulfill a listed wanted connection, your fourth character must. -If none of your first four characters are aged 40+, your fifth character must be. -If none of your first five characters are gender diverse, your sixth character must be. Additionally, if only one of your first five characters are a BIPOC or dark-skinned, your sixth character must be as well. This rule was instated on AUGUST 21, 2024, and is not retroactively implemented. Members who have applied for multiple characters prior to this rule will not be expected to change their current characters, but will be expected to adhere to these rules in listed order for each of their subsequent additional characters.

Admin Note: As a woman of color, it’s important to me that we do not have a group of majority white-passing FCs. New York is known as a melting pot, full of different cultures, colors, and ethnicities, and our characters should reflect that. This rule has been specifically adjusted to prevent writers from skirting past the POC rule by only picking up light-skinned and white-passing FCs, and to hopefully encourage diversity and the use of more FCOCs with a wider range of complexions. If you need some help finding new FCs, here are a couple of directories with a ton of beautiful FCs of color to choose from: black faceclaims, indigenous faceclaims, south asian faceclaims.

BLOGS: For your first character, you must submit a main account specifically dedicated to this group. After that, every new character can use a sideblog associated with that main account, or you can make your main account a mumu blog. If writers are using mumu blogs, please make sure to include the names of each of your characters in a pinned post or in the blog’s description. MAJOR PLOTS: Please make sure to run any major plot developments past the admin first. These plots include, but are not limited to: pregnancy, marriage, major injuries, death. LEAVING: If you would like to leave BHQ, please send a message to the main requesting an unfollow. No questions will be asked, no reason needs to be provided. It is simply a courtesy requested by the admins that you at least give the grace of a warning before suddenly deactivating or revamping your account for another rp. Thank you.

And, this rule did not change, but is included here as a reminder, since it is perpetually broken:

STARTERS: Please be sure to respond to at least 2 open starters before posting your own starter. This includes before posting closed starters, and this rule does apply to new characters, too. 

Admin Note: To reiterate, new characters are not allowed to post any starters (closed or open) until they've responded to at least 2 open starters FIRST. It's important that we are showing love to the open starters in the tag. "What if there's no new starters?" There are always open starters available on the bhqextra's starter reel in need of replies. Just because a starter is a week old does not mean it does not deserve replies, especially if it barely has any to begin with. So long as the mun has not capped or closed the starter themselves, it is still open for replies and available for you to respond to. Please make sure we are replying to at least 2 open starters before posting ANY new starter when we bring in new characters.

And that's all! None of these changes are targeted at any one individual, but rather are a result of multiple patterns I've noticed over the many months of operating BHQ.

Members, please remember to like this post to signify that you've read the updates. Thank you!

[fox-barnes]

FC: Maitreyi Ramakrishnan

"𝓨𝓐𝓨!"

⭑𓂃 MARVEL UNIVERSE OC

INFORMATION

FULL NAME:

Fox Romanoff-Barnes

AGE:

18

GENDER:

Nonbinary

PRONOUNS:

they/them

pronouns page

SEXUALITY:

bisexual

biromantic

ETHNICITY:

Desi American

DATE OF BIRTH:

November 22

MENTAL/PHYSICAL DISABILITIES:

ADHD

depression

anxiety

PTSD

sleep apnea

IBS

scoliosis

ABILITIES:

illusions

conjuring items

magic blasts

casting spells/enchantments

more magical abilities

PARENTS:

@natt-romanoff-official

@official-buckybarnes

SIBLINGS:

@the-loss-of-my-life

@moon-barnes

@multifandomer537

@butter-n-popcorn

@lukyan-barnes

@zenya-medvdev

@thee-little-angel

GRANDPARENTS:

@ironwidowassassin

@its-not-crimson-dynamo

@all-agatha-harkness

AUNTS:

@your-fav-russian-assassin

PETS:

@official-alpinebarnes0

Jackie

@jimmy-the-fox

FRIENDS:

@moongirlwidow

@nevaeh-daughterofvalcarol

@jollyjellyy

@you-know-me-no-you-dont

@loki-variant-number-24601

@hawkeyes-favorite

@calico-witch

@emmagical-bennett

@bird-girl-ali

@the-real-peterparker

@pyxis-deliveryservices

@wadewilsonposting

@tony-starkinator

@noyabrina-peony

@azrael-done

@merc-with-a-mouth-69

@goddess-of-birds

@dead-in-the-pool

PARTNER:

@laufeykid-loki

CHILDREN:

@ireallyliketacosokay

OCCUPATION:

in Agatha’s Coven of Chaos

running for vice president

runs the Fox x Mischief Club

PERSONALITY:

silly

impulsive

cheerful (most of the time)

hopeless romantic

deeply caring of their loved ones

daring

chaotic

mischievous

brave

reckless- jumps headfirst into danger

HOBBIES:

reading

writing

singing

swimming

fighting

throwing parties

playing pranks

going on missions

LIKES:

foxes

royal blue

chocolate (especially dark chocolate)

their family

magic

adventure

kicking bad guys’ asses

crop tops

pretty dresses

parties

stickers

shopping

roses

Brooklyn 99 (show)

Ever After High (show)

hugs

pranks

LOKI

desserts, especially cake

DISLIKES:

discrimination

people who hurt the ones they love

narcissists

egoists

know-it-alls

bad guys

drinking water

FEARS:

loosing their loved ones

being alone

APPEARANCE

SKIN:

medium/chocolate brown

HAIR

black

royal blue streaks

shoulder length

curly

EYES:

dark brown

HEIGHT:

5’2

ACCESSORIES:

nose ring

HOUSE

BACKGROUND

Fox’s biological mother died in the battle of NY. Fox recently discovered that they are descended from Heimdall and are a demigod. They’ve never met their dad. Fox is still traumatized from the battle of NY. Fox wants to be like their hero, their (adopted) dad, and save the world someday.

OTHER

MOD: @foxherder

CREDIT FOR THE TEMPLATE: @moon-barnes

[demonshauntingthedoves]

Crime of Passion [kinktober special]

Crime of Passion : A murder committed in the heat of moment without aiming to actually do it. In other words, to kill a partner under a strong emotional impulse during sex.

Summary : They say it's done in the "heat of passion" without a clear intent to truly commit the crime. And you did it too. Only you did strongly intent and prepared to do it.

Pairing : Husband!jungkook x female reader

Genre : Erotica, Eventual Yandere!

Warnings : Sexual and Yandere themes, dom!fc, dom!jk, lot of edgeplay, blowjob, use of aphrodisiacs, penetrative sex, praising kink, spanking, nipple play, infidelity, murder, torture, fc is crazy at the end but smart to (witch laugh).

WordCount : 1980+

With a pop you let go of his dick.You leaned back panting heavily and looked up at Jungkook through your long lashes. You rubbed the corners of your mouth with the back of your gloved hand, wiping the remaining beads of cum you failed to swallow. A sultry grin bloomed on your face as you glided your hands up his thighs again whilst batting your kitten-like-eyes at your husband who was sprawled out on the leather couch. From your bent position, you kissed the way up his knee and thigh and then quickly pecked the swollen head of his cock which still begged for your attention despite receiving full treatment of warm mouth moments ago.

“Don’t tease me! Just get over here and get it done with!" Jungkook hissed at the sensation. His hooded eyes raking your cleavage as your chemise hung low over your chest.

You rolled your eyes but crawled on him and licked a strip up his throat like a starved kitten. He threw his head back and let out a heavy puff of smoke from the thick cigar in his hand. You dragged your wet plump lips over his Adam's apple which bobbed, feeling your hips grind on him.

"Ahh!..Jungkook." You gasped and purred when you felt your core painfully ghosting over his cockhead which was ready to slide in.

“Don’t torture me, Y/n. Just let me in!” He growled lazily and smacked your ass. 

But you wanted to prolong this moment as long as possible. You didn’t take so much effort just to rush everything.You wanted to make it slow and sensual, almost transcendental.

Your barely covered skin glowed in the golden glaze of the scented candles. The low tune of vinile drowned in the melodies of your moans and his groans as you humped on him. You didn't let him enter you. You wanted to edge him. You rolled your ass sexily and bit hard on your lower lip feeling the rough fabric of his trousers; which you had pulled open in haste; scratch your inner thighs due to continuous friction. 

Your hand slid up into his lustrous hair like a quiet snake and pulled his head to dive in a kiss which turned desperate when he leaned in. Loud smooches and smacks echoed in the dimly lit room. He grabbed your lace cladded ass and smacked it, then he dug his fingers through them to reach your core. You gasped and hid your head in the croon of his sweaty neck. You kissed the mole on his honey skin and moaned loudly in his ear when he pinched your labia.  

“Now you see Y/n, hmm? Dont play with me!” His rum-tinged breath send tingles down your ear.  

You sighed and abruptly stood up. His brows furrowed when he didn't feel you doing what he said and opened his hazy eyes wide.You were just standing there with your hands on your hips. He enamored at the glory of you adorned in a deep burgundy coloured lingerie. Your honey skin glimmered through the dark berry chemise as your ears shimmered with the purple diamonds. Your baby hair was tucked out of your lazily tied bun and your round breast heaved up and down. And the gloves, he absolutely loved when you played the princess. Your tiny hands tucked in the velvet gloves. You could kill with that look.

You were a rare jewel, the black rose in the colourful ones. You were a temptress. His temptress.

 “Fuck sweet thing! You look drop dead gorgeous. Gonna kill me?!!” 

 "Hmm, I might be plotting" You playfully muttered.

It was times like this, when he knew you wished to take the lead. He could feel the exhilaration when you had aggressively pulled his collar and pushed him on the couch just to give him the best blowjob of his life. You wanted to have it your way. And he absolutely loved it. He might as well let you.

But not now when you looked like a goddess he wanted to worship. He couldn't keep his hands to himself. He needed to ravage this fierce beauty of yours. So he pulled you by your hips and cupped your chin to slam his hungry mouth to yours. 

His desperate hands traced every curve and crevice of your body.He picked you up and placed you on the bed whilst he undid the buttons of his floral shirt. By that time, you were already on your hands and knees, offering the perfect sight of your perked up ass on the edge of the bed. Like this, he could easily plummet his cock inside you but what is the fun in that.

He'd like to play the edging game as well.

 He harshly tore away the lace near your core and bowed down to latch on your pussy from behind. His fingers dug in your plush skin of your buttcheeks and smacked them while his tongue ravaged your dripping rose. The staccato of your ohs and ahs echoed around the four poster bed as he had your delicacy. 

"You have the sweetest rose I've ever tasted." 

You smirked in satisfaction that the viagra you had slipped in his rum was kicking in. But the moment you started to tremble, he stopped his ministration, only to climb on top of you and remove the rest of lace covering your shining skin. 

You buried your face in the silk sheets when you felt his cockhead nugging at your hole. A pleasure induced moan slipped out of you as he thrusted all the way in one go. The rest of your pleas were muffled as he jackhammered into you. Your body jerked forward with every swift move of his hips pistoning into you.

"So good for me, Y/n, o-oh my goddess!!"

The sheets were wet with amount of your drool leaving your gasping mouth. He was really fucking you good and sexy. You let him take his time, take all the time he had left.

Just when you thought he was about to cum, you crawled away from under him as he grunted loudly. You turned around pushing the hair that stuck your sticky forehead.

 "It's my game. I started it and might as well finish it." You said between your panting.

Your fierce eyes pierced through his blown out once. He surrendered to you.

As you busied yourself to remove his shirt and pants completely. He slapped your pussy out of frustration and pumped his fingers into you out of anticipation.

He bare back hit the mattress as you straddled him. You didn't miss a beat between settling on his erect length and rolling on him tortuously slow. 

"You're going to be the death of me,Y/n"

He growled looking at your naked figure on top of him. You hair messily fell down and draped on your chest.The only chlothing remaining on you were the gloves which rested on his buffed chest for support. You looked so pretty only in them. But he could still fell the edges of your sharp nails through the velvet gloves as you hopped on him. It was then, that you could get your words out.

"O-ohh, am I?!! Tell me you'd die for this pussy?!!" 

You asked him as you slided all your hair back, revealing your nipples to him.

"No question, I'd die for it. For you!!!"

He fingers reached up to touch and twik your nipples. Your breath staggered from the pleasure booster as you began to bounce on his cock. 

"So you'll die for me, right?"

Your hand clutched the thick column of his neck testing his waters. You pressed on his throat firmly as you felt your high approaching.

"Yes - f-fuck-ing -yes!!!" Jungkook stuttered and held your wrist with one hand and pinched your clit with the other.

You moves faltered and became sloppy as you glared at the fucked out face of Jungkook.

"So if you die, you'd be pleased to die with the sight of me on your cock, right? You'd want nobody but me ??!!"

Something flashed in Jungkook's hazy eyes as he grasped your hipbones tightly and titered,

"Ofcourse, sweet thing. Why would I want anybody but you?"

Liar

You tightened your grip on his throat as you rolled your ass on his abdomen.

And on queue, he started to thrust up in you, as if to prove his point or distract you from yours. You gasped in surprise and leaned forward on his chest. It took some more thrust for you to come undone.

You trembling body fell on him. His nose brushed yours, as you both stared in each other's eyes. Weary breaths feathering your faces. Your face softened as you looked at his loved filled eyes. But you could always see through the curtains of feign-what truly hid behind them.

You leaned back and resumed your movements. Your one hand still intact on his neck. You thought and thought twice.

His eyes fluttered to the cinnabar mole on the side of your chin.

Jungkook groaned again close to the edge. You touched the taunting cinnabar mole with the other hand. And smiled at the realisation.

So just because she had the exact same mole as you, he considered fucking her.

She was a washer brought to you. A poor but starry eyed girl. Her coily hair smelled of oakwood and detergents. That was the second thing you had noticed about her. The first thing was her mole which mirrored yours. You had smiled and welcomed her impressed by that only one feature of hers.

You should have known that you wouldn't be the only one to be impressed by that one feature of hers.

Your intuitions were gnawing at you the one time you'd sniffed the scent of oakwood coming from not only his clothes but his skin.

You were suspicious for days until one day you went into his study to offer him tea, only to be greeted by the smell of soaps.

But nothing phased you more than the instance when you caught her sniffing his clothes from the pile in hamper.

It unnerved you -the fact that they were romanticising behind your back but what devastated you was- the fact they thought you were stupid enough to not know and not do anything.

It wasn't much to fault the poor girl, she had her little piece of torture. You only scrubbed her eyes with the detergent and made sure she would never be able to see the morning sun again. She didn't know what were you capable of.

But that couldn't be quite said about your beloved husband. He knew what a fierce woman you were. If one span of your hips could make men fall on your toes, then one snap of your knife could make their heads fall too. And maybe he forget that.

You'd would love to remind him that for once and all.

"Nobody but me. But why do I feel you forgot that for some time now, hmm?"

Jungkook stiffened under you as you gyrated your hips on his. His aroused face turned into one of fright.

"W-what are you talking about Y/n?"

His hand caught yours which was heavily pressing on his pulse.

"So you would love to die with me on your cock, wouldn't you?" You asked him again.

When you looked at him with darkened feline eyes, Jungkook's face fell. He shivered from overstimulation and culpability.

"You said it would be your last wish!!!" Jungkook saw the crazy glint capture your eyes. You weren't playing anymore. This wasn't just a game anymore.

You placed your other hand on his throat and enveloped them tightly in a chockhold. After overcoming from shock and conflict, Jungkook clenched his jaw and tried to swat your hands away but failed due the lack of control he had in the daze of alcohol. His body was going numb. He couldn't even utter a word.

"Then die!!" You shouted at his face.

You pressed your thumb on pulse and strangled him. You chocked him with all your might.

It felt cathartic to punish him for his wrongdoings. He dared to betray you. Only to receive back all your bubbled up wrath and frustration like this.

He tried to undo your hands but nothing could stop you.

You breathe in.

His face went a deep shade of crimson. You could feel the loud throb of his pulse. You were there.

Until you no longer felt his pulse and his face unshed of all colours and went pale. You were done.

You breathe out.

You got up and wrapped yourself in the silk robe. You plopped down on the couch and took a hit from the cigar he threw. You puffed out dancing clouds of smoke looking at your dead husband. You gave him quite a lovely departure in the peach tapestries of silk you specially decorated for this occasion. Quite a heavenly departure for a person who ought to go to hell.

You slid the gloves out your hands and threw them in the fireplace. No one would doubt you now with no fingerprints. And even if anyone did, you'd simply cover it up under the Crime Of Passion.

A/N : Phew! Wanted to write something for this Kinktober and came up with this. I didn't actually select a single kink while writing this. But there's a tiny buffet of some common kinks. This story takes 360° turn from smut to murder.

[jpriest85-blog]

With the latest update of the Thicker Than demo by @barbwritesstuff I decided its time to post a collage and some info about my Blackwell.

Name: Dr. Roxane Godwin Blackwell

Occupation: Doctor, single mom and unwilling vampire noble.

Pronouns: She/Her

Height:5ft.5”/165.1cms

Birthdate: June 19, 1981

Appearance: An African American woman of average height and build, with a heart shaped face, dark brown complexion, brown eyes, black braided hair, a full mouth, and defined cheekbones. Usually seen wearing modern fashionable clothes with silver jewelry, or medical scrubs. 

Family: Chris( husband, deceased),Percy(son, alive)

FC: Lupita Nyong’o

LI: Too many appealing ROs will play multiple saves for Marcel, Illya, Freya, and Nathan.

Misc. Info & headcanons:

Her name Roxane means dawn or light in persian. Her original surname Godwin means friend of God, and is a reference to Mary Shelly, as it was one of the author’s maiden names.

Her son's name, Percy means to pierce or destroy, and is in reference to Mary Shelly’s only surviving son.

Her initials RGBW are the same as a type of lighting combos used for electronics.

Roxane prefers to be addressed by Doctor rather than Lady, because she actually worked hard for her medical degree.

Due to working in the medical field Roxane already developed a morbid sense of humor to help her cope. This hasn’t changed much since becoming a vampire except the jokes have become darker.

Roxane knows how to play the ukulele. It was a hobby she picked up as a child, and she even used to play lullabies for Percy when he was a baby. She doesn’t play it much anymore since becoming a vampire.

Roxane’s symbol after becoming the new Lady Blackwell is a stylised plague doctor mask on top of a medical caduceus. So she winds up both bird and snake imagery when associating with house Blackwell.

Roxane’s favorite flowers are poppies because of their medical uses and they’re pretty easy to grow. Although she does appreciate the irony that poppy flowers are also associated with remembrance.

While she died in her late 30s Roxane was blessed with good skin, so even though she was overworked and tired when Lawrence turned her she still looked younger, and now she always will.

While Roxane has to practice and relearn how to emote, smiling seems to be easier due to muscle memory from her time as Lawerence’s thrall. Sadly it’s much different from the way she used to smile when she was alive, because Roxane used to have a beautiful smile that would light up a room.

Still married to Chris but he died from a car accident before the events of Blood Moon, and Thicker Than. Roxane kept both of their silver wedding rings on a chain around her neck, but Lawerence Blackwell took and melted them when he made Roxane a vampire.

Roxane’s attempt at friendship with Minjo is more tragic in retrospect, since Roxane knows intimately the kind of pain and grief of losing the husband and father of her child, but if she ever fully remembered the previous Lord Blackwall forcing her to hurt Minjo and her family. The guilt would devastate Roxane as well as make her wish she could have murdered her predecessor herself.

After becoming a vampire Roxane started wearing exclusively red or black for her more formal attire. That way the bloodstains don’t ruin her more expensive clothes.

When Percy was still a baby Roxane gave him a small stuffed rabbit and it became his favorite comfort toy. As he got older he decided to give the rabbit to Roxane, because he’s a big boy now, and he knows how much his mom misses being with him. He figures the rabbit will help Roxane not feel so sad and lonely because Percy loved it so much but he wants his mom to know he loves her more. Roxane always kept the little stuffed rabbit in her pocket or purse, like a lucky charm. Even when she was imprisoned for five years, focusing on the toy and memories of her son helped keep Roxane from completely losing herself.

Roxane’s relationship with her son, Percy, in an odd way mirrors the dynamic of Perseus and both his mother, Danaë, and Medusa (also Roxane would have definitely read the Percy Jackson books with her son). Like the Greek hero Percy is a protective boy who is raised by a single mother, and then separated from each other when Roxane is made a member of the Night Court against her will, although not by an unwanted marriage but by being made a fledgling vampire. Tragically Roxane could also potentially be like the gorgon, after breaking out of her 5 year imprisonment, she tries to visit her son, but ultimately leaves without letting Percy see her face. It would break Roxane's cold dead heart to be the cause of her son's demise, or have her baby boy look at her like a monster. As a vampire Roxane prefers to live in seclusion from the court, and while she doesn’t have the power to turn others to stone like Medusa. A vampire's predatory gaze can cause people to freeze and if trained enough in Path of the Master she can potentially command someone to be still as a statue. There are also some versions of Medusa’s origin where she was a priestess who was assaulted in her temple by a god, and cursed to become a monster. Likewise Roxane’s murder by Lawernence Blackwell in the hospital parking lot reads chillingly similar to many stories and police reports about victims of SA.

[chronic-ghost]

Chapter 1 of Recovery Road

chapter rating (this will change!): T

pairing: dieter bravo x f!reader

word count: 6444

chapter summary: dieter joins the production of an old friend and meets his new co-star

chapter warnings/tags: discussions of addiction/rehab, smoking, cursing, angst, no use of y/n, named reader but no physical descriptions other than hairstyle/clothing, adult language

a/n: Highly recommend reading the AO3 version. I've been working on doing some fun things with formatting work skins, so please check that out! My FC for Heidi is Sarah Goldberg and Timothy Olyphant as Mark, but yours doesn't have to!

▲ Series Masterlist | Next

▲ AO3 Link

“Despite the meteoric success of their first and only film together, Recovery Road, neither Dieter Bravo nor Natalie Lorraine were present when the film won the Oscar for Best Picture that year— an oddity for the main leads of such a critical and commercial darling. Cobbled together from stories from other cast members, director’s cut commentary, and straight up rumors, there is no clear cut picture of what happened to prevent the two stars from basking in the rewards of the film’s success. Perhaps in twenty years, if we’re all still around and the internet monolith continues to chug forward, we’ll get some tell-all documentary on Netflix where all things will be revealed. Blood shed. Lives lost. The whole shebang. Until then, you can find this old reviewer sitting up in his attic rewatching one of the most poignant and moving depictions of love and addiction we’ve gotten in the last three decades. Recovery Road is not, nor has it ever been, one to miss.” - John Michael David, Rolling Stone, “Why Recovery Road Still Stays With Us Today”

It’s getting hot inside the car. 

If he was going to sit this long in the fucking car, he should have left it running. Summers in LA are sneaky. Desert air is cold in the dark, but piercing in the day. He had purposefully parked in the shade, but it was still too much. He feels sweat break out across his hairline and he knows that won’t be a good look. He needs to look completely put together, completely at ease, relaxed. Unflinching. Unrufflable. Like he does tai chi every thirty minutes and can harmonize with the universe during rush hour traffic. 

He’s got to keep it together. 

But he can’t take his fucking palms down from his eyes. The heel of his hands dig into his eye sockets and for all the pressure it builds, it feels good. The pressure flushes out every other thought in his head and he needs to go into this clear-headed. If he fucks up again, it’s not just his ass on the line. 

He wants to believe things are going to be different this time. He wants to believe he’s going to be different. He’s worked his ass off to get here – sweated and shook and vomited into his own lap as the withdrawals tightened every muscle in his body – and now he just needs this one chance. Chloe – patient, perfect Chloe – was counting on him. If she said he could do it, he probably could. 

His left hand, third finger, twinges and that’s what brings his hands down from his face. He looks at the ring there. That gold beautiful ring. A promise made real. He swallows. 

Today, it’s a table read. Done it a thousand times. He’s actually early, for fuck’s sake. He glances down, triple checking he’s not wearing slippers or that mangy robe. Jeans. Black shirt. Easy. Chloe warned against the rings, but he’d sooner part with those than his right hand entirely. Sure he fucked up, sure he was a fuck up, but there were parts of Dieter Bravo that just had a right to exist. People wouldn’t recognize him without his rings. 

He did cave about the earring though. 

You’re almost thirty-six, darling. Nobody but rockstars can wear earrings at that age. 

When he went into rehab, he was thirty-three. He had lost two years of his life in that prison and he was not about to do it again. He had left his sobriety token at home, but he wished he had it now, just for something to squeeze, something to soothe his feverish palm. Again, Chloe had quietly nudged him: “do we need to get you a fidget spinner, baby?”

He wanted to joke, “that’s what the adderall is for”, but given that his doctor was forced to prescribe him something else for his ADHD after they found a dozen empty pill bottles under his bed, it probably wasn’t all that funny. 

He breathes, counting down just like the nice lady at the rehab center taught him to. 

Your self-destructive habits formed out of necessity. It’s time to reshape them. 

Today, it’s just a table read. He can do this.

He pops the sunglasses out of their holder on the console and slips them over his eyes. He takes one more glance out of the rearview mirror, half-expecting to be staring down the long lens of a TMZ reporter. He grabs the script from the passenger seat, curls it under his fingers— and still doesn’t move.

He likes this script. He likes the writer, seen their work in the past and it rocks. It’s good. It’s a good part. It’s actually better than good. It’s Oscar bait, they say on the internet, and he has the lead part. An aging musician struggling to rebuild his life after a drug addiction ruined his band’s final tour. The scriptwriter didn’t actually say that he had Dieter in mind when he wrote the part, but Jesus– suffice it to say, he understood the material. 

The aging musician was going to help a young upstart find her way in the music scene. She joins the band. They flirt, they fuck, they fall in love, and everything is ruined by their own egos. End credits. Lights up. Oscar in his hand. 

He didn’t recognize the name of his co-star when his agent sent over the cast list. He honestly didn’t even ask about her. He knew the director, had worked with her in the past, and thought she had a real eye for scenecraft and a knack for finding that beating heart of a moment. He trusted her with casting the right part for his opposite, just as she had casted him. But it wasn’t even about her, his co-star– he was ready to dig in and see what the director could pull out of him. 

And fuck, if it worked for RDJ, then it could work for him. 

This had to work for him. He feels the pressure return behind his eyeballs. 

“Fuck it,” he hisses and nearly kicks the door open. The script curled up in his hand like a baseball bat, Dieter Bravo strolls across the hot parking lot to the studio sound stage and into the rest of his life.

He is used to being stared at. He is used to all eyes on him, but not like this. This feels too much like that last party when the cops showed up and found all of his illegal prescriptions. It makes him itch.

The empty stage is filled mostly with crew and staff, setting up lighting and testing the sound recording. They’re all busy, getting ready for next week to start filming, but they all still have time to send him a worried glance. Because if he fucked up, they’d all be out of a job until shooting wrapped. They had enough courtesy to not actually whisper in front of him, but he knew exactly what they were saying just after he’s out of earshot:

“Oh, fuck, this is a Bravo flick? Shit, I gotta get another gig.”

“That asshole is here? Oh my God, this thing’ll be shut down in two weeks!”

“Fuck that guy and his stupid hair.”

Okay, that last one might have been projecting. He catches his own gaze in a pane of glass while he waits for the director’s assistant to return. His hair, despite his best attempts, would not lie flat, would not stay unrumpled. Another thing Chloe thought a man of his age shouldn’t have. 

He hasn’t seen another cast member and now he’s worried he got the time wrong and he’s missed it and he’s already started all of this off all wrong —

“Dieter! Oh my God, you’re here!”

Heidi, the director, beams at him so bright he actually feels himself go warm. She has her arms out open for him and he rushes to her, picks her up in his arms and twirls her. Her hair is back to her natural silvery blonde, cut short and kept out of her face with a tornado of bobby pins. He’s never seen her without her jean jacket, even at premieres. 

Early on in their careers, he found he had too much respect for her to try and sleep with her and they formed, over the years, the closest thing he could call a healthy relationship. She was like his sister, since his own didn’t seem like she’d ever pick up the phone again. 

It also helped that she was a raging lesbian, happily married, and wouldn’t go near his dick for all the money at Warner Brothers Studios. 

“Dieter, you look so fucking good, dude.” She pats his face and scrunches up her nose, those black headphones knocking around her neck. “Fuck, it’s been too long.”

“I know, Di, I know.” He always liked that their nicknames sounded alike. Dee and Di. A team. “How’s Lucy?”

“Pfft, you know her. Taken the kids up to Canada for the summer. Says the trees are more ‘real’ there,” she says, rolling her eyes. “I miss the little buggers, but shit, it’s nice to have a quiet house.”

He laughs, the knot in his chest easing. “Before school starts up again, you’ll have to come by the new place.”

“Oh, shit, that’s right. You just moved back into the neighborhood, didn’t you? I heard about that. You and, uh . . .”

He hides the blush in the tips of his ears with his hand, acting like he’s scratching an itch on the side of his head. “Yeah, Chloe and I are still together. Been married for a little over two years now.”

At that, Heidi’s bright green eyes snap open wide. She nearly launches herself at him to grab his hand, gawking at the only gold ring on his finger. “Shutthefuckup. You got married?! You asshole, why wasn’t I invited?”

He swallows past the hard knot in his throat. “It was a small thing. Could hardly call it a party.” 

Heidi, as she usually does, takes not a lick of his bullshit. “Uh huh. Well, shit, I guess we have to double-date now.” 

“I’d like that.” He grins.

Her shock softens, and she punches his shoulder softly, her smile wide across her face. “You fuckin’ dork. I can’t believe you got married. Who knew Dieter Bravo would settle down?” 

He doesn’t know what to say to that, doesn’t know what’s going to come out of his mouth if he tries to answer, so he just shrugs. Her eyes linger on him for a second more, before looping her arm through his and leading him away from the stage. 

“So have you read the script?”

He nods eagerly. “Yep. The whole thing. Front to back. It’s fucking incredible, Heidi.” 

“Yes it is! There’s so much to work with. It’s a little hoity-toity for my taste in some places, but I think there’s a way to balance the shmaltz with genuine emotion, you know? The script, it’s so raw and real, I know you can get to those places.”

“Yeah, like I haven’t already,” he jokes off-handedly. They’re standing in the big open bay, where the crew can wheel in giant cranes for lighting or special effects, when Heidi freezes. A frown is growing over her face as though realizing something for the first time. A wind blows in and he thinks he can smell the desert in it.

“Oh, fuck, Dee,” she murmurs, not even looking at him. “This script, the material . . . you just got out of fucking rehab, and—,”

He shakes his head, a bit frantic. He’ll get on his hands and knees to let her keep him on this project. “Heidi, this is fine. I’m fine.”

He takes her by her shoulders and makes her look him in the eye. 

“I want this part. I want this part so fucking badly. I know I can do it too. I’m going to do this project and it’s going to blow your fucking socks off. You can count on me. I’m responsible now, I promise.”

At that, her green eyes soften. “Responsible and married? Who the fuck are you and what have you done with Dieter Bravo?”

Early on in their careers, she had also been right by his side, doing line after line of coke off hookers and strippers. But then she grew up. If she can have a family and a beautiful wife, then why can’t he? 

“Dee, look,” she says softly and touches the hand around her shoulder. “I’m not worried about any of that. I always knew you were something special, if you could just get out of your own way.” She glances away, shame making her mouth tick. “But I should have checked in more. I knew you were still in rehab, even after those times I called. I should have stayed in touch. I’m sorry.”

Something about her pity was unbearable. “Don’t. Please. It’s in the past. It’s over and I want to move on. This time, it’s going to be different.”

Heidi nods, smiling. “For sure, dude. We’ll do this together.”

He can fucking breathe again. She sees this and takes him by the arm, letting him get his feet under him. The air is warm, and Heidi’s hand is firm against his forearm. 

“I know the email said to meet at the sound stage, but everyone’s working out here, so I just put us in the back of the studio. Much more quiet. C’mon, I think I saw Mark’s car up front.”

She leads him to the next building, chattering on and on about the composer they got. How the music is gonna fuck so hard, they’re even trying to convince the studio to let them record a full fake album for the movie — “if you don’t wanna sing, Dee, that’s totally fine but I am begging you to do at least some of the guitar,” — and the building door opens.

It’s a squat building, probably more offices than anything to do with production, but it’s where Heidi is taking him, and the door opens. A man, much younger than he is, stumbles out, giddily laughing over his shoulder. He looks to be a PA of some kind — wiry, a little strung out, probably with dreams of writing the next Citizen Kane someday — but he’s looking at something over his shoulder. 

Or rather at someone. 

A woman, barely that but with all the cosmic designs of one, steps out after him. Her white cowboy boots hug just below her knee, her smooth legs, rich with the sun, curl up into a men’s white collared shirt. She walks and only a flash of denim shorts peek out from under the shirt. 

She isn’t laughing, but smirking. Knowing something this poor PA has no concept of. Her black aviators push her lush hair out of her face and her fingers glitter with silver jewelry. She’s smiling at the PA like a leopard seal smiles at lemmings. 

She chews something in the back of her teeth and then blows a bright pink bubble. The PA’s smile falls off his face as he watches, wide-eyed, the gum snaps in her mouth. 

Dieter immediately and, without question, dislikes her. Dislikes her so much, he can feel it burn in his chest.

Her wicked eyes slide from the PA, over his shoulder, and lands squarely on Dieter. She blinks. 

“Oh, hey, kiddo, you found the right place.” 

Heidi walks up to her and shakes her hand. That sharp-toothed glint in her eye is gone as she eagerly chats up Heidi, and the PA might as well have disappeared off the face of the earth. 

Heidi waves him over and it takes a full two seconds for him to remember how walking works. The sun is hot on his back. 

The woman — the girl — is looking him up and down, calculating and cool. As if she, unlike him, hasn’t quite made up her mind about what she thinks of him. 

Heidi waves a hand in between you two. She says your name and his mind suddenly locks onto it. He suddenly knows who you are before Heidi says it. He read it on the cast list. He hadn’t given it a second thought. 

“This is your new co-star, Natalie Lorraine. The other lead. You two will be working very closely together for the next couple of months.”

She’s stopped chewing gum. Either she swallowed it or tightly packed it to the back of her gums, because there’s no slur, no crumpled edge to her words, when she extends her hand and says:

“Hi, Dieter. Nice to meet you.” 

Your hand is soft in his and your lotion reminds him of lilac. 

Today is just a fucking table read.

He tries to unclench his jaw when he says, “nice to meet you too.” 

He’s on his third bottle of water and he’s eying the trashcan in the corner, wondering how discreetly he could throw away several plastic bottles before it looks weird. He’s got the script out in front of him on a long, white plastic table and a few people have stopped by to say hi. He had gotten up to stand and shake their hand, and several of them had blinked up at him, as if they had forgotten how tall he was, when he wasn’t hunched over, fighting a hangover. Heidi was gathering the last of the cast mates before the table read and had been gone for twenty minutes or so. Maybe — 

In the corner, she laughs, the sound brilliant and loud. In a world full of perfect, practiced laughs, hers is noticeable, but not entirely bad, and a few people turn to look at her. She’s got a hand on Mark Bronson’s arm, clearly delighted at something he said, and he is obviously starstruck. 

Dieter actively fights the scowl on his face. He’d known Mark for a while. Good guy, little vices, always put in the work. Been married to the same waitress he met out in Oregon on a shoot a decade and a half ago, and never once stepped out. Dieter had been thrilled to see him, to catch up on old times, Dieter purposefully making a joke that referenced the one time they were on that old cop show together when they first got to Hollywood. “Nobody would really believe we’re gangsters, now, eh, Dee?” Mark had said with a grin. “Too fuckin’ old.” 

Mark had stayed and talked and that again eased the tension in his chest. If Mark actually hated his guts, then the Oscar really should go to him.

But as more people filed in, he excused himself to catch up with one of the directors of the art department and Dieter had taken the opportunity to grab as many bottles as a reasonable person would from the cooler. He likes ice cold water. The colder, the better the burn. 

But here Mark is, sidled up to that girl, laughing it up like they were old friends. Traitor, he muses glumly, and thumbs the white plastic cap. He’s thought about Googling her — who the fuck is this girl — but didn’t know how to justify it if someone caught him.

The back door to the room opens and Heidi steps in.

“Alright, five minutes. Take your smoke breaks, your pee breaks, your whatever breaks. Hopefully not all at the same time, but I ain’t here to judge.” 

There’s a collective chuckle before everyone moves to take their seats. He keeps his eyes trained on the water bottle as bodies weave around him, chair squeaking as they are pulled out and sat on. The atmosphere is relaxed, easy, everything he wanted. So why is he so fucking tightly wound?

“Thirsty?” 

It takes him a second to unstick his gaze from the bottle. He knows you’re talking to him. 

He glances up at your face from under his lashes. You aren’t exactly smiling at him, but there’s a light in your eyes that feels . . . playful. What a normal, innocent question. But when he doesn’t respond, you lean forward on your elbows, your rings interlocking on your fingers. Your gaze drops his and nudges the two empty plastic bottles around his script.

“And there’s two more under your chair. So are you—,”

“I like to keep hydrated,” he says, cutting you off. “It’s summer in LA and . . . uh, it’s hot.” 

“Uh huh,” you reply, slowly. “Can I have one? You know, since it’s hot.”

His mouth twitches — get off your perky ass and get one yourself — but then he’s liable to see your bare legs again. And he knows a comment like that would get him some stares, which would not be good. 

He swears you know all of this too, by the way your eyes glitter at him, daring him. That’s the worst– he’s figured it out. You look at him from under your thick eyelashes like you want to play a championship round of Truth or Dare, but it would only ever be Dare. You want to see him dance on hot coals, eat a sword, kiss a snake. You want to watch him squirm and it’s so obvious, he clenches his jaw.

He swallows and bends down. He holds out the water bottle by the very end to you, but you somehow manage to brush your fingers up against his anyway. He doesn’t physically recoil but he feels like he needs to go wash his hands.

“Thank you,” you say as you unscrew the cap then drink heavily from the bottle. It’s halfway empty when you put it on the table. Your tongue laps up the water from your lip. 

He grunts as a response. You open your mouth to bother him further, when Heidi calls the start of the read. Dieter pulls his reading glasses out of his pocket, when he sees you’ve done the same. Silver, though, to his black, they’re perched on the edge of your nose, and you’re looking down at the script as if trying to divine lighting rods. You’re focused, the playful, tempting air gone, and there’s an intensity to your eyes that wasn’t there before. You look . . . almost normal. 

He slides his glasses on and looks back to his pages, the tips of his ears burning.

The table read goes well. 

Sort of. 

There’s a handful of scenes Heidi has picked out for the majority of the cast to read together. Mark does well, as the manager who is trying to hold all the egos together but struggling with demons of his own. He’s funny when he needs to be, but serious enough to flip a line read that deepens his character. God, he’s so fucking talented, Dieter thinks as the table laughs at one of his character’s jokes. 

The other members of Dieter’s band in the movie are made up of a few guys, two girls. They have a natural chemistry that makes it seem like they’ve been friends for years. Dieter makes a note to try and get to know them better as people off the set to hopefully find his own rhythm with them. A few smile at him as he’s doing his own line reading and he feels good about it. 

Everything is fine and easy, until there are a few scenes specifically between him and you.

You’re putting too much emotion into it for just a table read and it’s making him uncomfortable. These things are just to get to know everyone, to see how the cast can play off each other, but you’re out here acting like there’s cameras ten feet back. Have you ever even been to a table read before? Shouldn’t you know this?

After you deliver a heartfelt monologue about feeling lonely in the world, he hears a few sniffles. The two girls of the band are red-eyed and Mark is stone-faced. Even Heidi looks affected. 

What the fuck is going on? Is he the only one not swayed by your bullshit? 

All of a sudden, you take his hand from across the table, your eyes pouring into his and he’s caught off guard. 

“Tell me you understand,” you say, your voice wet with emotion. “Tell me you understand why you can’t ever leave me.”

He wets his lips and sits up straighter in his seat. He squeezes your hand, opening up the light in his eyes. Fine, two can play that fucking game.

“I’m no good for you, baby,” he croons. “There’s a million of me out there and only one of you.”

“But you’re the only one I want. The only one I need.” 

Fuck, you’re good. But he’s better. He turns your hand over, exposing your wrist to the cool air and thumbs your pulse gently. He smiles wistfully at you.

“What we want can kill us. I love you, darling, but that’s not enough.”

The room is silent.

He glances down and read the next stage action:

They meet in a passionate kiss.

His eyebrows raise and he glances back at you, halfway expecting you to throw yourself at him from across the table. 

But, no. Instead of looking at him with love in your eyes, you are fucking furious. Your mouth is pulled into a tight line and he can see you mentally picture strangling him.

“Alright—,” Heidi calls out, her voice gruff. “Alright, let’s move on. Page one-fifteen.” 

The room fills with the fluttering of paper and a few people sniff, rubbing their eyes.

You yank back your wrist out of his grip but don’t move to turn the page. And neither does he. 

Oh, you’re mad that I did the exact same thing you were doing, but better? Sorry, hot tits, you have no idea who you’re fucking with. Welcome to the real world.

You look like you want to sink your fangs into him. You’re kind of cute, with your nostrils flared, in that megalomaniac kind of way.

A woman to his right asks what page they’re starting on, and it forces him to break eye contact with you. He tells her and thumbs to the correct page himself, where Mark is having an argument with one of the guys in the band.

He glances up at you. Tension still lines your body but you aren’t looking at him anymore. In fact, you’re making a clear point not to. His chest soars. 

He is definitely counting that as a win.

He opens the back door to the studio lot and breathes in the evening air. Day one, knocked down and dragged out back. He feels so fucking good. 

After the reading, Mark came over and congratulated him again on getting the part. He makes sure Dieter has his number before saluting him and announcing he’s heading home for the night. The band is hanging out in the corner, but the talk dies down as he approaches. One of the guys looks positively horrified as he smiles and waves at them.

“You did a great job today,” he says to their half circle. He’s never seen anyone’s eyes so wide in their heads before. “Have you all worked together before?”

“We’re an actual band and you’re really Dieter Bravo,” one of the girls blurts out. Her friend, presumably, elbows her and she blinks as though slapped. “I mean, we play real music. We’ve been on the radio a few times . . . but you’ve probably never heard of us . . .” She trails off, glancing helplessly at her friends to make her shut up.

Her friend, a young woman with hair so red it had to have been fake, rolls her eyes. “We’re The Sixers. We started out here in LA and we’ve been on the strip a few times. Our agent said that it would be great publicity if we were in a movie.” 

“Oh, shit,” Dieter mutters, as surprised as they are, “The Sixers – yeah, I have heard of you before. I’m fucking old as hell, but I still listen to the radio.” 

“You’ll have to give us some acting pointers,” one of the other guys offers up, his hands in his jean pockets. He seems less obviously starstruck but trying to play it cool. 

“Only if you help me to remember how to play the guitar,” Dieter grins. 

“You know how to play?” The first girl gawks.

He winks at her. “When everyone else around me is too drunk to notice I’m terrible.” 

They laugh, the girl’s face whiter than a sheet, and then the redhead introduces everyone. “That’s Nick, Cooper, and Samuel. Our resident ghost here is Marie, and I’m Roxie.”

He vaguely wonders which of those are stage names, but is absolutely sure that’s not Roxie’s real name. But she seems like the kind of person who’d like it that way. 

“You all are in good hands with Heidi,” he nods to the director, who’s been chatting with Mark and the art director. “She’s a visionary and really knows her shit. You’re lucky you get to have her as your first director.” 

“Have you worked with her before?” Cooper, one of the guys with legitimate beatnik hair, asks. 

Dieter nods. “Several times, actually. She’s fantastic.” 

“Have you worked with her before?” Roxie asks as you walk across the room to pick up your purse. Dieter can feel that burn in his chest again as you bend over. He shakes his head. 

“Is she new to the scene? Is that why she can’t afford any pants?” Roxie mutters and both Cooper and Samuel chuckle. Marie glares at her. 

“I heard she was a child actress in the early 2000s,” Marie continues as if trying to re-right the ship. “Was pretty successful, but then dropped off the face of the earth. Until now, I guess.”

“Maybe she went the Bella Thorne way of child actresses,” Nick murmurs, shamelessly watching your ass as you’ve turned to speak with Heidi for a moment. 

Roxie snorts. “She’s not that slutty. No one is that slutty, not even to sleep with the likes of you, Nicholas.”

“Oh, yeah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you –” 

Roxie slams a hand over his mouth. “I will junk-punch you so hard if you say what I think you’re going to say.” 

They’re like siblings, Dieter muses. Five, very talented, outrageous siblings. 

“It was great to meet all of you,” he says and Marie’s eyes flutter back to him. “But I gotta split. We should all go out some time. Meet up outside of work.”

“Oh, I think we’d looove that,” Cooper sing-songs, his eyes on Marie. She flushes bright red and pinches his shoulder, while Samuel laughs. “Ow!”  

Despite himself, this could actually be a fun shoot. He waves but none of them really see it, devolving into a squabble that makes him grin. 

You’re gone, he notices, but Heidi is sitting alone at the table, going over her notes. The art director has left too. 

He slides into the seat next to her and she lifts her head, smiling.

“Hey, Dee, you fucking crushed it today. Everyone’s been coming up to me to say how impressed they are with you.” 

He huffs and rolls his eyes, leaning back in the chair. “Yeah, and did they follow it with, ‘especially after how much of a fuck up we thought he’d be’?” 

Heidi playfully frowns at him. “C’mon, man, give yourself some credit. You earned the right to be here. I didn’t have to approve your audition.” 

His throat tightens. No, she really didn’t. He shakes his head.

“You’re right. As always.” 

Heidi grins, pleased, and drops her head back to her notes, marking things in a red pen. 

“So what did you think of your co-star?” 

Be nice, Dieter. “She’s . . . fine.” 

Heidi smirks, but doesn’t look up. “Wow, I don’t think you’ve ever used less words to describe someone, much less a woman.” 

He doesn’t like the way she says woman, as if there’s this cosmic reckoning that’s started and he just doesn’t know it yet. Sam and Diane, Bones and Booth – a destined sort of thing. 

He rolls his jaw. 

“She just acts . . . uppity, is all. Like she’s better than everyone else.” 

Heidi snorts. “Okay, tell me how you really feel.”

“I don’t like her.”

At that, Heidi pauses and looks up, genuine concern on her face.

“Really? You don’t like her? She came recommended by the studio and she’s a bit much, but I didn’t think you’d actually dislike her.”

He back-pedals as fast as he can. This day is so close to being perfect. 

“I mean, I don’t not like her . . . I just . . . I don’t know her.” If he is being honest, the best time to tell her exactly what’s been on his mind all day is probably right now. “And, fuck, Di, isn’t she a bit . . . I don’t know . . .” He swears he can hear the old Dieter laughing at him. “. . . young?” 

Heidi grimaces, taking his concern seriously and he loves her even more for that. 

“It was a studio note. Execs say it makes the central conflict feel more . . .”

“Predatory?” His eyebrow lifts, disdain evident in his drawl. She frowns at him.

“Transcendent.”

There is nothing about that girl that is transcendent, he thinks bitterly. 

He sighs and leans closer. Heidi notices his change in body language and leans forward too.

“I just cannot fuck this up, Di. I have to come out on top with this. It’s really important.”

That pity flashes across her face again and his stomach curdles. But she soothes a hand over his, her eyes serious. 

“Dee, I know. I really do. I’m not going to let anything bad happen here. She starts acting up, she’s out. We don’t need her that badly.”

He couldn’t be sure if she actually had the power to kick a co-star off the set, but he wanted to believe she did. More importantly, she wanted him to believe she did. 

“Thanks, Di,” he sighs. “I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

She chuckles and pulls her hand back. 

“Go home to your wife at a normal hour.” She pauses, making a face as if she tasted something sour. “Your wife – God, I will never get used to that.”

“Hey, I got used to it, after my best friend left me for some brunette out in Bali,” he teases as he stands up. 

Heidi scoffs. “That wedding was sick as fuck and you know it.” 

“You know, I never did bill Lucy for the piercing I got there. Sober Dieter would never have made the decision to look like a Keith Richards knock-off.”

“Oh shut the fuck up and go home. To your wife.” 

He’s laughing as he waves her good night. 

He opens the back door to the studio lot and breathes in the evening air. Day one, knocked down and dragged out back. He feels so fucking good. 

He’s thumbing through his keys when he smells smoke. Acidic smoke. Like those disgusting American Spirits he used to choke down. 

You’re leaning by the trunk of your car, one heel kicked over the other, smoking a white cigarette through your fingers. Which would be fine with him, except your car is parked tightly in the space next to his and you’re blocking the way to the driver’s seat. He’d rather crawl through the trunk than have to bend around you.

You’re biting on your thumbnail, contemplative, and staring directly at him with unabashed contempt. 

“Your reading was stilted,” you announce and then take a long drag. 

“Excuse me?”

“Your reading today,” you say slowly as though talking to a stupid child, “it was stilted.” 

He pops his jaw. 

“That’s because it was a fucking . . .” He remembers to breathe. “That’s because . . . it was a table read. Have you ever been to one?”

“Yes.” You tap the ash off your cigarette on the heel of your boot, drawing his gaze to the flush of your thigh but he’s not going to fall for it. “It can be a great opportunity for actors to find their chemistry. To find their rhythm.”

“I know that.” 

“Then where was yours? Huh?” You lift your eyebrows. Did you ever not want to play Dare?

“What are you talking about? I had a fine time with the band. We’re actually going to hang out outside–,”

“I mean with me.” 

That burning sensation returns to his chest. You look at him as if you could sear a hole right through him. Your cigarette is left smoking, forgotten, between your fingers at your hip. 

“The only time you ever gave me anything was after I touched you and even then, your performance was so saccharine, it made my teeth ache. I’m out here to prove I belong here, on this big budget film, and you’re stonewalling me. What do you have against me? What did I ever do to you? 

He runs his tongue against the back of his teeth, guilt smothering the fight you aroused in him. He drops your gaze and puts his hands on his hips. He’s too old to be scolded like this.

“Nothing, alright? You didn’t do anything,” he says quietly. “It’s not you–,”

“Of course it fucking isn’t but thank you for saying so,” you snap. 

You take one more drag before flicking the white butt onto the pavement of the gathering darkness.

“This is going to be a long shoot if you can’t get your head out of your ass.” You step forward and he instinctively takes a step back, but you come close anyway and shove a finger in his chest. “I don’t know what your deal is and I don’t care. We’re going to get through this even if I have to grab you by your hair and pull you to the finish line. Got it?” 

Your eyes are shining, fierce, powerful. Your mouth could crush rocks. 

He nods. 

Maybe it’s the trick of the failing light, but he thinks your pupils are a little too unnaturally wide. 

“Great. See you Monday.” 

You turn away from him, stalking back to your car and hurling your purse into the side seat. The car, a Chevy that’s possibly older than he is, roars to life, with just as much vitality as you possess. He leaps back a second before the wheels squeal as the car lurches backwards and darts off into the dark. 

He stands, watching the car pull away onto the road, until it’s gone. He can still hear the engine screaming in the distance. 

He thumbs his keys again, shaking his head. For the first time in months, he would literally kill someone for a cigarette.

[theprice-if]

Adrian/Ariana Ocean [Giulio Berruti // Bianca Balti]

With dark brown hair, that's been dyed a myriad of colors in the past, sparkling blue eyes, the color of the sky on a cloudless day, and tanned skin, it's no wonder that no one can get enough of them. They're a constant on Hollywood gossip sites for their troubled past, but it seems that they're trying to outgrow their old image. They have a toned body and stand at around 6'3". [Adrian keeps his hair like in the picture shown and Ariana has her hair down to her shoulder blades.] (For Ariana there’s a bit of Ariana Grande in her FC too.)

Blake Turner [Sam Claflin // Dianna Agron]

With mischievous hazel eyes, golden hair, and fair skin, Blake has always been the one to look out for when in L.A.. Their presence has quickly taken over the big screen. They're believed to be as much of a partier as A; never staying in one place for long. They have an athletic build and stand at around 6'1". [M!Blake keeps his hair like in the picture shown and F!Blake does the same in her picture too.]

Liam/Leah Shaw [Saeid Ezatolahi // Sarah Shahi]

Hired by your new spouse to protect you; they have expressive dark brown eyes, and raven black hair that is always kept from their face. Their smiles, while small, never fail to make you feel safe. As you know that they’d never let anything happen to you. They have a muscular physique and stand at around 5'8". [Liam keeps his hair short and Leah keeps hers like in the picture.]

Isaac/Isabel Carnell [Charles Michael Davis // Janelle Monáe]

Dark brown skin, light brown (gold in some lights) eyes, and ebony black hair, they’re quite the sight to behold. Their warm smile and overall cheerfulness already add to the unique glow that seems to surround them. They have a slender build and stand at around 5'6". [Isaac keeps his hair like in the picture and Isabel has hers just over her shoulders.]

Carson/Cara Madden [David Giuntoli // Phoebe Tonkin]

Lightly tanned skin, ash brown hair, and impassive dark blue eyes, they’re everything one would expect from a reputable lawyer. Hardworking and devoted to their job, they'll try their best to make sure everything goes smoothly for you. They have a lean body type and stand at around 5'11". [Keeps their exactly like it's shown in the pictures above.]

[dear-indies]

Do you have any dark skinned fcs you’d like to see gif packs of? I’m very faceblind and not as up on media as I should be but I’m practicing my work and would love to help those resources

Lori Tan Chinn (1948) Hoisan Chinese.

Nandita Das (1969) Indian.

Sendhil Ramamurthy (1974) Indian.

Grace Park (1974) Korean.

Nawazuddin Siddiqui (1974) Indian.

Dominique Jackson (1975) Afro Tobagonian - is trans.

Trevor Jamieson (1975) Pitjantjatjara / Kukatja, Noongar.

Florence Kasumba (1976) Ugandan.

Sterling K. Brown (1976) African-American.

Danai Gurira (1978) Shona Zimbabwean.

Konkona Sen Sharma (1979) Indian.

Nonso Anozie (1979) Nigerian.

Tannishtha Chatterjee (1980) Indian.

Yetide Badaki (1981) Nigerian - is bisexual.

Lupita Nyong'o (1983) Mexican Luo Kenyan.

Gabourey Sidibe (1983) Senegalese / African-American.

John David Washington (1984) African-American.

T'Nia Miller (1985) Afro Jamaican - is a lesbian - has spoken up for Palestine!

Radhika Apte (1985) Indian - has spoken up for Palestine!

Jodie Turner-Smith (1986) Afro Jamaican.

Chai Fonacier (1986) Bisaya Filipino - has spoken up for Palestine!

Susan Wokoma (1987) Nigerian - has spoken up for Palestine also has donated to an auction for Cinema4Gaza!

Lashana Lynch (1987) Afro Jamaican.

Michaela Coel (1987) Ghanaian - is aromantic - has spoken up for Palestine!

Ritesh Rajan (1988) Indian.

Anna Diop (1988) Senegalese.

Daniel Kaluuya (1989) Ugandan.

Andrea Bang (1989) Korean.

Lolly Adefope (1990) Yoruba Nigerian - has spoken up for Palestine!

Stephanie Hsu (1990) Taiwanese.

Varun Saranga (1990) Indian.

Shaunette Renée Wilson (1990) Afro Guyanese.

Antoinette Robertson (1990) Afro Jamaican.

Paapa Essiedu (1990) Ghanaian - has spoken up for Palestine and donated an auction to Cinema4Gaza!

Nyma Tang (1991) Sudanese.

Denée Benton (1991) African-American - has spoken up for Palestine!

Shamier Anderson (1991) Afro Jamaican.

Sheila Atim (1991) Ugandan.

Melinda Shankar (1992) Indo-Guyanese.

Clarence Ryan (1992) Unspecified Aboriginal Australian.

Haiesha Mistry (1993) Gujarati.

Kim Adis (1993) Bisaya Filipino.

Stephan James (1993) Afro Jamaican.

Nicole Kang (1993) Korean.

Baykali Ganambarr (1994) Yolngu.

Kofi Siriboe (1994) Ghanaian.

Simone Ashley (1995) Tamil Indian.

Mouna Traoré (1995) Afro Haitian and Malian.

Duckie Thot (1995) South Sudanese.

Brandon Soo Hoo (1995) Chinese - has spoken up for Palestine!

Ashton Sanders (1995) African-American.

Zuri Reed (1996) African-American.

Micheal Ward (1997) Afro Jamaican - has spoken up for Palestine!

Magnolia Maymuru (1997) Yolngu.

Jasmeet Baduwalia (1998) Indian.

Lovie Simone (1998) Ghanaian / African-American.

Olly Sholotan (1998) Nigerian

Hope Ikpoku Jnr (2001) Black British - has spoken up for Palestine!

Gerrard Lobo (?) Indian.

Jacob Junior Nayinggul (?) Yolngu.

Natassia Gorey-Furber (?) Central Arrente.

Jimi Bani (?) Wadagadum Torres Strait Islander.

Sasha Morfaw (?) Cameroonian.

Karim Diane (?) Mandingo.

Hey anon! I wouldn't consider these all to be dark-skinned but they're definitely considered dark in their respected industries. Please send in any suggestions and I can add them!

[liroyalty]

So, Princess of Hell Sue definitely has a pair of horns on her head, they are the same horns as displayed by her fc for this verse. Large, curve backwards & then straight up again, & end with red tips. Her eyes have also returned to the ruby red color they were then she was a child, also displayed by her faceclaim. When invoking her magic, she will grow a second pair of horns identical to her first ones, from the back of her head & her eyes glow whilst turning her eyelashes gold.

She also has fangs now, but these change to fit her situation. Normally, they are quite small with only the two in the front being long-ish, akin to a vampires, but she can elongate them all whenever she wishes too. She can also stretch out her tongue whenever she likes as well, & it has a split at the end. What's the full length of her tongue? Um... ask her & find out I guess?

She has claws too, but this in another thing that she can change to fit her situation & comes in two stages. She normally keeps her normal, human looking hands & arms, as it is most convenient for her. The second stage of this, is her nails & fingers rapidly growing, along with said fingers turning black. The third stage is only invoked with her magic, Sue's entire arm will grow into a beastly limb, which turns completely black & lines up her arms with spikes.

There is a tail on her now too. This tail doesn't change at all, but most people don't even notice it, as it is sometimes hidden under her clothing. It follows the same color pattern as her horns, black at the base, red at the tip. And lastly, she does have dark tattoos on her skin. The only one that is always visible is the one on her back, the rest are hidden unless she begins to invoke her magic.

[blackfemmecharacterdependency]

Some of y'all be needing one of these bad boys before y'all start suggesting FCs for older, younger, and recasts for Black FCs, because, Baby, you muffuggas do not seem to know how skin colors look.

I need to make some of y'all a guide with people someday. You don't know what "dark skin" is. You don't know people can't grow up and become biracial when they was a monoracial kid. You don't know that two dark skinned parents will not make a quarter Black child, and the times that they make a light skinned child is not as common as it is on screen.

I... will help you. Someday. Not today. I'll make a lil' chart or something.

[infiniitefrequency]

okay, so these are the potential fcs I have for both the canon and oc characters I'm thinking of:

Marie Laveau and Marguerite Laveaux:

Angela Bassett (the queen, AHS marie - even if I've never watched it)

Rutina Wesley (she could work for mother or daugher, but i'd be leaning daughter)

Keke Palmer (problem is I see the character with long braids, and I can't find good caps to get of keke with braids)

Sophia Brown (top contender for Marguerite, but the more I capped, the more she felt warrior than magic wielder)

I'm open to other options. My prereqs are: a face that can emote both pure angela basset style power, but also an underlying tenderness. She has to have braids/dreads/locks. I'm just seeing her with long hair in protective styles, it fits the vibe. And also she absolutely needs to be a beautiful dark skinned black woman, obviously.

[cthoniian]

when ppl suggest white fcs ( i mean pure white. ultra white. ghastly white. ) for lucien - they do realise, HES HALF BLACK.

and he’s half VERY BLACK? like helion is described as a very dark skinned man.

white passing does not equate to … white.

[shimmer-wing11]

Crack Strikas Episode one: True Wisdom

Key:

Y/N- Your name

Y/g- your gender

H/c- hair color

H/l- hair length

E/c- eye color I know on my previous post I said that the crack shots would be platonic, but I can’t turn up the chance to give Y/N the harem that they deserve. Obvi there won’t be much, and u can just ignore that part, but I couldn’t resist. Thanks to @c28hunter who gave me the idea for this. If you have an idea for another episode, shoot me a request! I’m more than willing to write! Also, this really isn’t crack, it’s just stupid, but it’s basically the same thing, right? Alrighty, y’all are done with reading me ramble on, so here’s the crack shot.

~~

One’s appearance has a great impact on their life. Whether you have a dark complexion with the most startling bright eyes, or the palest skin with cute little freckles dotting your face, it will affect how you are perceived. And that is where we will begin this story.

They say wisdom comes with age, and what better way to show your age than a long white beard? Of course, if it comes naturally, then you have nothing to worry about. If not, one must go to extra measures to showcase their wisdom. One of these men is none other than the old and ‘wise’ coach of FC Nakama, Uri Giri.

~~

“Miko!” Y/N gasped, as they noticed the black haired striker. With no hesitation, they rushed and jumped at the startled man. Shaking off his shock in less than a moment, he swiftly catches the annoying little bug despite the burning feeling on his face.

“Ohayo, Y/N, but was jumping on me really necessary?” He blinked down at them, as a crap eating grin snaked onto their face.

“Yessss, because I luv youuuu!” They cheered. The inside of his chest hammered at the statement. From the direction Y/N came, one of their friends popped out.

“Y/N!!! GET BACK HERE!” KitKat, a short brunette screamed as she rushed towards them, “Go back to bed, you drunk!”

“I’m not drunk! And I don’t want to go to bed! I wanna tell Miko about what I saw his coach doing!” Y/N babbled from their perch in said player’s arms. KitKat shook her head annoyedly.

“You didn’t see anybody except some random CLEAN SHAVEN man and me, not Uri Giri. It’s hard to miss the beard of that man. Now come on, time for bed,” The short girl rolled her eyes and held out her arms to receive the drunk y/g

“But that dude was him! He was putting on a beard, I saw it! He went into a different room and put one on,” They whined as they were handed off, albeit hesitantly by the soccer player.

“What do you mean? Are you sure it was Uri Giri sensei?” Miko questioned down at them.

“You bet! He was at that bar just down the street. So much for honor. He was drunk as heck,” Y/N giggled then burped, which elicited an even bigger fit of laughter from the y/g. After they calmed down from their slap happiness, their eyes became heavy, and soon soft snoring could be heard from them.

“Do you require assistance in bringing them to the hotel?” Miko questioned KitKat who shuffled the sleeping sack of potatoes on her shoulder around.

“Yes please. They are really freaking heavy,” the brunette wheezed, and handed them off.

“And you are also tiny.”

“Hey! I’m not that small!”

~~

Nakama sulked in defeat. Not only did they lose their match, but their coach had lied to them as well. The silence in the locker room was tense and awkward, for nobody knew what to say. The door then slammed open, as an infuriated Y/N stormed in the room.

“Your coach is a bit-“

“Y/N, language, please,” Miko cut the angry comment off. They gazed around the room and huffed.

“Are you guys just going to sit here? Like seriously?” They clicked their tongue in disappointment.

“There is nothing we can do,” Kendo, the goalkeeper sighed dramatically.

“Are you sure? Cuz I have a pretty darn good plan to fudge up his life,” Y/N grinned, looking around the room at all the curious faces.

~~

“Long day means long rest, and it has been very long day,” Uri Giri grumbled as he dragged his feet through his home. Stepping into the safety of his bedroom, he removed his fake beard. It was truly easy to fool his team into believing he had a beard, showing his wisdom by his old age. The thought brought a chuckle to his lips.

The coach practically collapsed onto his bed, and within a few moments, he was knocked out cold, snoring like a dying bison.

~~ Time skip brought to you by El Matador failing at the Macarena ~~

Uri Giri’s back was what stirred him awake early in the morning. It hurt like crazy, and so with much pushing, he finally managed to get up. After performing a few stretches, the old man excited his room, fake beard in hand.

Outside he heard yelling, conversing, and especially laughing. It surrounded his house, so without thought, he tied on his beard, and peered out the window. A flock of people were gathered outside his house, most of which were laughing uncontrollably at their phones.

In an instant, he noticed his team, as well as their two annoying friends. They had stupid suspicious grins on their faces. What had they done now?

Without hesitation, Uri Giri slammed open his front door.

“What are you doing at my house?!” The man screamed, startling everyone. But soon they returned to laughing, and began pointing at him mockingly. Anger bubbled up in him.

“Why would he do that? Is he trying to look wise or something?”

“He looks so stupid!”

Having enough, the coach exclaimed,“What is the meaning of this?”

The closest person to Uri Giri, a tall lanky black haired man, shoved a phoned into his face.

There, on the video, it showed Uri Giri removing his beard in the safety of his bedroom. The old man spluttered.

“WHO DID THIS?”

“Your team uploaded it to YouTube,” The man beside him stated before walking off.

“GAHHHHH!”

~~

“Did you see his face? It was awesome!” Y/N was laughing their butt off.

“Now I think he should know true wisdom is to not mess with his team,” Miko nodded, along with the rest of his team.

Yeah. Don’t mess with them, or you’ll have your beard exposed. Well, uh, if you have one. If not, prolly just your biggest secrets, nothing too much.

[hannahhook7744]

Meet Joyce Penelope Foxworth;

FC: Jordana Beatty.

Fic Title: The Marvelous Misadventures of Hannah Hook. 

Nicknames: Joy, Joyless, Joyful, Joyless Foxworth, Joyful Foxworth, Lost Girl, Joyless Wild Child, Wild Child, The Wild Child Wrangler, The Red Pirate, and The Sour Patch Kid. 

Sexuality: Pansexual.

Pronouns: She/her. 

Birthday: July 6th at 4:00 am. 

Height: 4'11. 

Hair Color: Dark Red. 

Eye Color: Coffee Brown.  

Place Of Birth: Auradon. 

Hobbies: Reading, singing, archery, sailing, swinging, treasure hunting, fishing, playing games, climbing, singing, and yodeling. 

Likes: History, reading, listening to music, animals, animal care, sailing, treasure hunting, fishing, playing games, pizza, climbing, singing, and yodeling. 

Dislikes: Broccoli, the color black, bullies, broccoli pizza, large crowds, clowns, public speaking, badgers, and editing history to the point where it is just false. 

Favorite musicians: Taylor Swift, Lesley Gore, and The Mighty Olympians. 

Physical Quirks/Scars: Freckles, uneven teeth, lanky frame, and pinkish skin. 

Family: Mr. Foxworth (Maternal Grandfather), Mrs. Foxworth (Maternal Grandmother), Penny Foxworth (Maternal Aunt), Jenny Foxworth (Mother), Nibs (Father), and Demurra (Older Full-Blooded Sister). 

Honorary Family: The Lost Boys, The Darlings, and Neverland Crew. 

Friends: Hannah Hook and Amira Bint Aladdin Bin Cassim Al Hamed of Agrabah. 

Pets: Taffy (Bunny), Oliver (Cat), Georgette (Poodle), Fishy (Goldfish), and Hebe (Kitten). 

Love Interest: Avisa Olympian of Atlantic (Crush),

Fuega Madrigal (Future Partner).

Optimistic or Pessimistic: Pessimistic. 

Introvert or Extrovert: Introvert. 

Occupation: Back Up Kid Wrangler, Pirate, Highschool Student, and Vet (future job). 

Extracurriculars: Choir, Archery, and Belle's Book Club. 

Favorite Animal: Cats and Bunnies. 

Favorite Color: Forest Green and Pastel Pink. 

Favorite Book: 'Meet Kit' by Valerie Tripp. 

Favorite Food: Pepperoni Pizza.

Favorite Drink: Sprite. 

Favorite Movie/TV Show: Annie and Powerpuff Girls. 

Background: Once upon a time, Nibs left Neverland in search for something more–growing up and eventually meeting and falling in love with Jenny Foxworth. 

Having a daughter named Demurra and then another named Joyce 'Joy' Penelope Foxworth. 

Joyce would go on to befriend Hannah Hook and join her crew, becoming one of her closest and most trusted companions. 

~~~~Playlist~~~~

"Choose your fighter" by Ava Max.

"You're on your own kid" by Taylor Swift. 

"Die Young" by Kesha. 

"Artemis" by Lindsey Stirling.

"Hot Mess" by Cobra Starship. 

"No Friends" by Cadmium.

"Strangers like me" by Phil Collins. 

Inspired by @thecaptainsgingersnap and @theinnerworkingsofoc.  This is @casinotrio1965 's oc in my Hananh Hook au.

[dhampiravidi]

marvel canon - eleanor "ellie" camacho

template taken from here

General Information

Name: Eleanor "Ellie" Camacho Aliases: Deadpool DOB: ??? (age 14 as of 2024) Gender: Cis Female Sexuality: Questioning Species: Homo sapien superior aka Human Mutant Ethnicity: Cuban, Jamaican & White (American) Affiliation: herself

Physical Appearance (FC: Herizen Guardiola)

Ellie is a 5'2" (1.57 m) young person who trains regularly. She takes after her mother, having the same brown skin, dark brown eyes & slightly curly black hair ending just past her neckline. Her ears are pierced. Like her father, she has a somewhat lanky build that is toned. Ellie's Deadpool costume is a red & black skintight, high-collared tactical suit, with a brown leg holster, brown knife holster, brown compartment belt & brown half-length jacket. The jacket's hood is red & she wears a version of her dad's classic red & black mask. Her favorite color to wear as a civilian is pink, which she often wears in the form of a t-shirt.

History

She was conceived after her mother, Carmelita, had a one-night stand with Wade Wilson. Her mom sought Wade out after Ellie was born, but he thought Ellie was too beautiful to be his child. Ellie & her mom were later kidnapped by The Butler as revenge on Wade, who the villain wanted to use to cure his sister. By the time Wade escaped his captor, Carmelita was dead & Ellie had been given to The Butler's brother. SHIELD Agent Emily Preston, a friend of Deadpool's, would end up tracking the girl down, but not before Ellie had been threatened by agents of the terrorist group ULTIMATUM, as well as by Flag-Smasher. Wade rescued his daughter, who was sent to live with the Prestons while Wade killed all of ULTIMATIUM. For a time, Wade gave up being Deadpool & spent time with Ellie & his other loved ones--until an Incursion temporarily destroyed Earth-616 (it was later restored). When HYDRA's Secret Empire was extant, Wade kidnapped Eillie & had her attend Baron Zemo's School for Superior Students in DC. As he had become an agent of HYDRA, Wade was neglecting Ellie while he went on missions. She returned to the Prestons on her own & would eventually forgive her father. As a teen, she trains under Taskmaster. By 2099, she's assumed the role of Deadpool & is an accomplished hero.

Personality

Ellie cares for her family deeply, including her father, who she appears to love unconditionally. As a child, she disliked violence, including that which involves anti-heroes killing each other, as she convinced Wade to not kill someone on a mission. As she gets older, she's eager to help her father on missions, mostly because she wants to spend time with him.

Powers / Abilities:

Regeneration: once she dies, she is reborn as a teenager, with all of her memories & none of her previous wounds. Healing Factor: among other things, it allows her to build up muscle mass & learn faster than the average human her age. Fighting Skills: she's trained in melee & hand-to-hand combat with Taskmaster. She's especially proficient in dual-wielding knives.