#do they think Oli is a fucking amateur?

[allwaswell16]

This is the only thing I'm gonna say about the really dumb groupie rumors:

How dare they imply Oli doesn't know how to do his job? Like Oli is letting people have their phones around when Louis is sleeping? I'm insulted on his behalf.

[hanasnx]

Kinktober: House of Amateurs - S1E3

MINORS DNI 18+

SUMMARY: october 3rd | tuesday polys: threesome WC: 0.9k | CHARACTERS: anakin skywalker x f!reader, sanna olies (oc) WARNINGS: f!reader | dom!anakin | pnp | onanism | kinks: daddy, size | attempted: voyeurism | implied: fellatio | shower | polyamory: threesome | three-way kiss | no y/n

KRAYT HOUSE M.LIST | NAVI | INBOX | @KRAYTHOUSE

“We should try to peek on him.” Your co-star— Sanna’s words make your jaw drop. Rushing to her own defense, she interjects you as if you’re about to verbally contradict her. “It’s not like he’d mind!”

“I can’t believe you’d say that!” you scold, but her suggestion eats away at your guard. He might not mind, but he’s unpredictable. Regardless if it’s her idea, you’d be an accomplice.

“Well, maybe I’ll get lucky. I’m going.” she insists, and your mouth remains agape, taking offense in being abandoned. You’re quick to clamber up to follow after her.

“Wait for me!” You chase her, but she increases her pace. Grins of thrill appear on both of your faces, yet it’s unclear who’s mirroring the other.

The sound of the shower running coming into earshot quiets the both of you, hushing each other so as to not raise suspicion. You approach the door, and her hands fix on your shoulders as she leans onto your back. As carefully as you’re allowed, you inch open the door, and the weight increases behind you. Playfully, you shove her back so you can creep inside.

You reach the bathroom counter before his voice cuts you off. “What do you girls think you’re doing?” Frozen where you stand, you glance between the drawn shower curtain and Sanna.

“Nothing,” you reply innocently.

“We’re sorry, we didn’t know you were in here, daddy.” she finally speaks up.

“We thought it was one of the other girls.” you’re hasty to add, as if more story will cover up the shame you both feel for being caught embarrassingly fast. It’d be mortifying to confess that you were brought here on the basis of coercing him into fucking the two of you.

“Who?” One simple question. His tone conveys his lack of actual curiosity, and all the condescension of a man confident in his inference. You scramble for a name, any name. Your silence is answer enough, and you hear him scoff. “Well, since you’re here, come help me with this.” Exchanging a look among yourselves, you border the tub, not before discarding your clothes onto the bathroom floor. It’s a risk you’re willing to take if he didn’t mean to invite the two of you inside.

She goes in first, and you trail after. Hot water accumulated in a thin layer at the bottom greets the soles of your feet pleasantly. Standing herculean and picturesque under the faucet, Anakin’s features come into view. How the stream of water breaks at the back of his neck to flow down his relaxed form, how he guides Sanna into him to steal a greeting kiss from her obedient lips, how his tepid hair is curled from the humidity and the tips are heavy and dripping. Even if he’s content, you notice how his brows pinch together constantly, as if nothing truly pleases him, and he’s always dissatisfied over everything put in front of him. A judgmental countenance you fantasize about reversing. As he meets your gaze, you’re already magnetized to him, giving him a greeting kiss of your own as his strong arm wraps around your torso to express his approval for your initiative.

The warmth of another presence approaches, and he directs her into your side, jamming you together as she joins in the kiss. Three pairs of lips melding together tentatively as the heat of the water transfers between bodies during the close proximity. The two of you wrap your arms up around his neck loosely, overlapping one another. He introduces tongue, a soft graze enough to shift the energy, both his limbs wound around the two of you, arching you two into him. The outline of how he hardens apparent against your lower stomach. There’s a desperation to him, as plain as kissing is, Anakin Skywalker enjoys it as a three-way. He hums, deep in his throat, reverberating you. Tongues sliding against one another is enough to make him stoop to grab a handful of ass from both you and her. As if you read her mind, you both nip his lower lip at the same time, earning a growl.

He dips his head between you, brushing his open-mouthed kisses onto your shoulder, and then hers. “Are you gonna help me with this?” he murmurs, repeating his request from earlier. His hands on each of your asses rocking you both into him, seeking out friction through humping his length onto the squished space of your abdomens. As soon as your hand grasps his hard-on, you brush against hers, and you chuckle in spite of yourself. Holding hands over a man’s erection, how romantic. A sharp exhale of breath leaves him, and you support his weight as he relaxes into your touch. How you move in tandem with each other in order to undulate against the sensitive skin of his cock as him rolling his hips into it, fucking into the space you created together.

Your free hand winds around him, nails digging into the skin of his wide back, and a whine spills from his agape mouth, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

He straightens to his full height, and bites down on his lower lip as he continues to buck into the team-effort handjob, aiding you two in jacking himself off. From the force of his movements and his sheer strength, his hands on you rock your entire bodies along with him, and construct a necessity for counterbalance. It doesn’t take him much longer to force the two of you on your knees to work together to finish the job using only your mouths.

[winterrose527]

...bc I’m greedy, jonsa + 17

hahaha I love it! 

17: to distract

“Jon?” she called as she walked into his apartment.

“In h-oly fuck,” Jon cursed when he saw her.

She couldn’t really blame him. In fact, her outfit had been chosen for that reaction exactly. 

It had all started when Theon had taken Myrcella’s straightening iron to iron his pants and got distracted watching tv and broke it. Myrcella, sick of Theon breaking her stuff, had then decided to replace his milk with chicken fat. The only problem was that it wasn’t Theon who went to drink it, it was Jon. So then of course Jon had to get Myrcella back, by telling the barista at the coffee shop that his pretty friend had a crush on him. The barista thought he was talking about Sansa.

This went on and on and on for weeks. Nowhere was safe. She’d had cases of viagra delivered to her at work. Theon had scared off a guy Myrcella had been on one date with by telling him don’t worry, it’s not until the fourth date she’ll start pressuring you for marriage. 

The boys had gotten their fair share too. They’d unsubscribed all of their magazines and subscribed them to all new ones, mostly related to very specific sexual activities and knitting. Jon had had to present at a meeting wearing a pair of pink and green candy cane glasses because they’d put them in his pocket instead of his actual pair. 

It had been pretty silly, occasionally cruel, and once very very dangerous (Theon’s idea), but the girls were determined to win. 

But because they all now spent their lives in a state of hyperawareness, it had gotten increasingly difficult to get the jump on any of them. 

So it had been Myrcella’s idea for Sansa to distract Jon, so that she could sneak in and put Nair in their shampoo bottles. 

There was nothing Jon Snow loved more than his hair. 

Since it was Myrcella’s idea, Sansa had suggested that Myrcella be the one to distract Jon. Myrcella had smirked and insisted it be her, saying it was the only way they could be sure it would work. 

They’d then determined a time that Robb and Theon would both be out. One of them had to be there or the door would be locked and they’d taken back their key at the start of all of this.

And then it just came down to the outfit. Sansa had vetoed lingerie. And the towel. 

So they’d compromised. And she wore a low cut sports bra and yoga pants and Myrcella had rubbed tanning oil all over her so she looked sweaty. She had no idea why that was a good thing but Myrcella had been sure it would work. 

“Hey,” she sighed and slightly whined. 

“Is uh-m,” he said, his voice an octave deeper than usual, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah it’s just that um, oh,” she moaned moving her neck to the side, “I was just doing yoga in my apartment and I think the heat is broken because I’m so hot.”

“So hot,” Jon repeated. 

Sansa blushed and nodded, and then pretend winced, “And I think I strained a muscle because my neck has this like kink to it.” 

She swore she could hear Myrcella laugh in the hall but she couldn’t be sure. 

“I um - do you want um...,” Jon started and then looked at her and just shouted, “ICE!” 

“Oh,” she smiled, “That’s a good idea.”

“I’m going to get it, let me go get it,” Jon said and walked into his bedroom. He came out a second later and shook his head, “We don’t keep it in there.” 

She couldn’t help but bite her lip. This was starting to feel almost cruel, but he was just too adorable for words.

She followed him to the fridge and he grabbed some ice out of the freezer wrapping it in a dish towel and handing it to her. 

“Do you mind?” she asked in her most innocent and pained voice. 

“No,” he shook his head, clearing his throat, “Course not”

He held it to her neck and she gasped and then laughed in what she imagined might be a sultry manner, “Oh it’s so cold,” and then shivered.

She was now sure that Myrcella was laughing in the hallway and she had half a mind to just fold the whole mission but she’d already gone this for. 

“How does that feel?” Jon asked gruffly. 

Sansa took a deep breath before reciting the line Myrcella had made her promise to say, she looked up at him through lowered lashes and said, “It’s just really tight, you know?” His mouth dropped open and he nodded and she pressed her advantage, taking his shirt in her hands and saying, “I’m so sorry to ask but could you... rub it for me?”

“Rub it,” he repeated, gulping. 

She was starting to feel well and truly flushed now from the way he was looking at her. His eyes had gone nearly black and there was a lock of black hair falling into is face and we’re they really going to rid him of it? 

“Yeah,” she repeated though, because this was war. 

“Okay,” he agreed, setting down the ice. 

He placed his hand where her neck and shoulder met and kneaded it. The moan she let out was only partially for his benefit. He did it again and her mouth fell open, and her head fell back against his chest. 

“How’s that?” he asked her gruffly.

“It’s...,” she answered, looking up at him as he looked down at her, “It’s...”

And then she was tilting her lips up as he was tilting his lips down. His took hold of hers and this wasn’t entirely part of the plan but it seemed to be working nonetheless. She turned around and wrapped her arms around his neck and his went around her waist and pulled her against him. And then Jon Snow’s tongue was in her mouth and it should have been strange because it was Jon but he really knew what he was doing and his hands were moving up her back and -

“Sansa,” he breathed.

“Mmm,” she blinked. 

“Why is Myrcella crawling across my floor?” he asked. 

“She’s not,” she said, her senses dulled. 

“Hi Myrcella,” Jon said. 

“Hi Jon,” Myrcella grumbled, getting up off the floor. 

Jon released her and Sansa backed up. 

He pointed at her, “Baby oil?”

“Tanning oil,” she admitted.

He looked between them, “And uh, what exactly was the plan here, ladies?”

“We were going to put Nair in your shampoo bottles,” Myrcella told him. She shook her head, “And you may have caught us this time but oh ho ho we will get you and you will cry.”

“Sleep with one eye open, Baratheon,” Jon said to her as she stormed out.

“ONLY ONE? HAHA, YOU AMATEUR,” she yelled from the hall and then they heard the door to their apartment slam shut. 

“So, Nair, huh?” Jon asked. 

Sansa blushed, “Theon really pissed her off when he dyed her hair pink.”

“Yeah,” Jon chuckled, “I knew that one would come back to haunt us.” 

She smiled and gestured to the door, “I should go,” then pointed at him and teasingly said, “Watch your back, Snow.” 

“Hey,” he said as she neared the door. “All that? Just part of the game right?”

She shrugged and smiled, “Maybe, maybe not.” 

“This is infuriating,” he chuckled, “Because now I don’t know if this is part of the game.” 

“That must suck for you,” she grinned. 

“I can take it,” he mused. 

She bit her lip and knew her voice was barely more than a coo when she repeated, “Watch your back, Snow.”

She was already in the hall when he returned, “I’d rather watch yours.”

[valeriianz]

"Is that a challenge?"

This was for an nsfw prompt list that has since been deleted. Have some spy/assassin AU! Ao3

Connor pressed his ear to the door. Someone was speaking inside, a man’s voice, muffled but commanding, the voice of his target perhaps?

He heard footsteps pacing, too close to the door to be his target. Probably just an associate, but Connor knew better than to downplay a threat. If anything he should be anticipating at least three people in the hotel room, along with his target.

Shit, he hated killing unnecessarily. Connor always took the file given to him, and aimed only for his target. Quick, clean, no unwanted casualties. He had a sleeper agent in one needle, hidden under his left sleeve, and the poison meant for Sam McNeal, aka Mr. Darcy, the target. An extra blade was tucked snuggly in the heel of his boot, and if worse came to worse, a semi-automatic pistol stashed securely by his lower back.

Connor hated guns, though he knew how to use one. He preferred to kill in silence, digression. He’d gotten accustomed to poison needles and knives.

Mr. Darcy was talking again after a brief silence. Connor couldn’t make out what he was saying. He checked his watch. If Connor waited out here any longer more company might arrive, or the target and his entourage would leave. Connor needed to strike now in the privacy of four walls, but he also had to amp himself up for an uneven fight.

Okay, one was definitely still by the door. Connor would take him out first before advancing on Darcy. His target was known to carry a gun, Connor had to keep his steps wide and fast to get the element of surprise.

One hand on the handle, Connor took a deep breath and inserted the master keycard he had stolen from one of the maids and quickly pushed the door open.

Immediately to his right was the man he heard pacing. Connor punched him once in the throat, the man fell, hand on his neck and struggling to breathe.

Looking forward Connor was met with… not Darcy.

A decoy?

Then he felt the cold hard metal of a gun barrel pressed against the back of his head.

“Go, inform the others and execute the plan.”

The guy who was sitting in the chair got up without a sound and left. The man whom Connor had slugged struggled up from the floor and stumbled from the room.

Connor sighed roughly through his nose. Great.

“Hands up.” The voice behind him commanded.

Connor raised his eyebrows sarcastically and did as he was told.

“Nice seeing you again, Robert. Or is it Steve this time?”

Connor turned around, the gun still connected to his head and had to bite back a groan.

“Agent Nine.” Connor said, conversationally. Trying not to like the way his opponent looked in a dark grey suit with a gun pointed at him. “Special occasion?”

The agent chuckled. “Always is, with you. Hands behind your head.”

Connor obeyed, giving Nine a smirk to hide his grimace. Losing always sucked, but it especially sucked with it was to Agent Nine.

“You a bodyguard now?”

“I’ll do anything if it pays well, you know that.” Nine answered, a smile also threatening to break free.

His free hand patted down Connor’s sides, going inside his jacket, feeling around Connor’s hips and fingers pressing a little harder than necessary for a simple frisking.

Connor ignored the heat he felt pooling in his stomach as Nine felt over his chest and down his back, nabbing the gun secured there and throwing it to the floor. Connor watched it slide away from them.

“I need that back, you know.”

“Not a chance.” Nine grinned. “On your knees.”

Connor, again, complied. He had no other choice. Though he really shouldn’t be doing this, flirting with the enemy. His target was getting away; Darcy must’ve been close by for Nine to be here. Connor’s head swam with the possibilities and how to best butter up Nine enough for him to drop his guard, allowing Connor to take him out.

Once Agent Nine found Connor’s needles, he noticed the other man drop his gaze, his grip on the gun lighter, and Connor took that opportunity to strike.

Connor smacked the gun out of Nine’s hand, satisfied in how it flew in the air and out of sight before taking a swing at his opponent and hitting air.

Agent Nine was standing and aiming a kick to Connor’s face who dodged, shooting himself up as well and nearly deflecting a well-aimed punch to his face using his forearm. And then he was attacking. Throwing punches, spinning kicks, managing to land a hit or two before Nine adjusted fully, rapidly blocking all his strikes.

The guy was no amateur in hand-to-hand combat, Connor realized with frustration, throwing punches that landed nowhere and kicks that were easily evaded. Nine was a master of defense, knocking away Connor’s attacks like they were nothing, smoothly transitioning from ducking to a punch of his own, making Connor stagger. If they kept up with this, Connor would be worn out and he had to end this now, Darcy was escaping.

Nine tried lunging for Connor’s dropped gun, Connor stopped him with a spinning kick that made Nine stumble out of the way, further from the gun. Connor continued maneuvering away from the weapon, trying to create an opening to whip out his knife.

Connor sensed Agent Nine going for his gun again and flew himself where he thought Nine was going but instead got fooled into a tackle that sent them both to the floor.

They wrestled and rolled, a clumsy hit landing here and there before Nine smacked Connor down roughly on his back, legs clamped at his hips and one hand pinning both of Connor’s wrists.

With his own gun pointed right between his eyes.

Agent Nine had been leading Connor along, getting just close enough to snag the gun with his free hand.

“Nice try,” Nine panted, pressing the metal a little too hard against Connor’s forehead. “But I win.”

“Fuck.” Snarling, that’s about all that came to Connor’s mind for a split second. Then, with a touch of mockery, he dryly commented, “You’re pretty good at pointing that thing. You know how to shoot it though?”

“Is that a challenge?” Nine’s eyes narrowed, leaning forward so his breath brushed Connor’s face, voice soft and serious. “Trust me, I can pull this trigger anytime.”

“Haven’t seen much evidence of that,” Connor observed, still catching his breath and trying to swallow his frustration at losing—again.

Obviously Agent Nine and Connor had a history, if you wanted to call it that. Connor was a rookie assassin in his agency, often being sent out for easy jobs that he always came back successful from. It wasn’t until a year into his service that Connor started getting bigger jobs, more powerful threats, larger intel.

He’d met “Agent Nine” on some mission a while ago, near the beginning of the year. He hadn’t been anything back then, Connor had heard of course about secret spy agents in foreign businesses, but some didn’t come with a picture, a profile.

Agent Nine was one of those spies. A spy sent to watch him. He probably wasn’t supposed to fuck Connor but at the time, Connor didn’t think a little fun in his work schedule would be so bad.

It was very bad.

Nine had drugged him to sleep and when Connor awoke the next day, it was to handcuffs and all his gear gone.

Ever since then, Agent Nine wouldn’t stop popping up, trying to distract and take over Connor’s missions (and sometimes succeeding, to the wrath of Connor’s boss). Though Connor was proud to say he hadn’t slipped up and let himself fall for his charms again, Connor deliberated that maybe losing all those times to Agent Nine would have been worth it if he had gotten a good fuck out of it.

Like right now.

His hands were still pinned above him but Connor had to admit, he couldn’t complain. Agent Nine was hot and heavy on top of him, his crotch pressed into Connor’s just a little too comfortably. Darcy was probably long gone by now but suddenly, Connor didn’t care. So what Annalise was gonna scream at him again, probably send him away for a few days, but she always called him back.

Right now, the view above him was stunning.

Nine’s gun moved from between Connor’s eyes down to his chin, notching it up and watching how Connor’s throat moved as he swallowed.

“You look irresistible in this position, you know?”

Connor gave a dry chuckle, his eyes slipping closed.

“You got a dominant kink or something?”

“I think you were just meant to be underneath me.”

Connor opened his eyes and glared, annoyed and turned on by the stupid grin Nine shot at him.

“What’s your name?”

Nine blinked, face going stoic and unsure.

“You haven’t figured it out yet?”

Connor sighed, pretending to stretch and rolling his hips up, smirking at the split second look of pleasure Nine’s face morphed into. He dropped the gun by Connor’s head and took his jaw in his hand, leaning forward.

“Only if I get yours. Unless it is Roger, which I doubt.”

Connor licked his lips, noticing with a thrill how Nine watched the movement.

“It’s… Connor.” Fuck, he really shouldn’t have told him.

Agent Nine’s smile was worth it, so close to Connor’s lips.

“Connor,” Nine repeated. His other hand released Connor’s wrists. “Oliver.”

Connor whispered Oliver’s name, bringing his hands down and grabbing onto either side of his face.

“Nice to officially meet.”

Oliver laughed once before he was pulled down into a bruising kiss.

God there was something about kissing Oliver—Oliver, that made something flutter in Connor’s chest. He’d kissed so many other mouths since Oliver, and none of them made Connor’s head spin, made him instantly breathless and want the be closer, like Oliver did.

In fast succession, Connor had pushed off Oliver’s jacket at the same time they sat up, Oliver’s knees on the floor, cradling Connor’s jaw to angle it up and thrust his tongue down his throat.

Connor was blindly working on Oliver’s button down when the man above him pulled back to mouth down his jaw and neck.

“Connor…”

Fuck, hearing his name finally come out of those pretty lips made Connor shiver. His hands stuttered on the last button, eagerly tilting his head to the side to allow Oliver to latch his mouth over his neck and suck a mark there.

As soon as Oliver pulled back, nuzzling his nose up into Connor’s hair line, Connor went back into action. He got the last button out, pulling and pushing the crisp shirt out of the way before fumbling with Oliver’s belt buckle.

Oliver helped too, soon getting them both to stand and stepping out of his slacks as Connor whipped off his sweater, eyes never leaving Oliver’s as they hastily discarded the rest of their clothes, moving towards the bed as they worked.

Oliver pushed Connor onto the bed, his back hitting the soft comforters and smirking as a naked Oliver advanced on him, hands feeling over his chest, pecs, and down, grabbing his member and giving it a teasing stroke.

“Can I fuck you?”

Connor scoffed to hide his smile, looking off to the side. Fucking Oliver… compromising his missions, nearly killing him more than once, stealing his shit. Spy master, Agent Nine, Oliver. Asking to fuck Connor.

“I’m surprised you asked.”

Oliver shrugged, bridging himself over Connor and rolling his hips down, biting one of Connor’s open lips.

“I’m a nice guy, once you get to know me.”

“I don’t want a nice guy.” Connor reached up and bit him back, a nip right below his ear. The stuttered sound of pleasure from Oliver made Connor’s dick twitch.

“Good thing I don’t fuck like one.”

Connor raised an eyebrow in response. We’ll see about that.

And holy shit, he didn’t.

Connor was on his hands and knees, barely able to keep it together as Oliver rammed inside him, making Connor clutch the sheets and nearly giving into the idea of just falling flat on the mattress and letting Oliver have his way with him.

Every thrust made the bed move, made Connor bite back sounds until he couldn’t, like Oliver was unconsciously ripping cries of delight and pain from Connor’s chest. He felt Oliver’s fingers on his hips, hard enough to bruise and he liked it. He pushed back every chance he got, urging Oliver to get deeper, faster, harder.

Connor wanted to touch himself but dared not move his arms, eventually collapsing onto his elbows and burying his face into the pillows.

“Fuck, Oliver,” Connor cried out salaciously. His jaw was permanently unhinged now, uncaring what sounds he made, they seemed to only inspire Oliver to get move creative, shift angles or aggressively pull Connor closer.

“Say my name again.” Oliver’s voice was closer now, he leaned over Connor’s back to lick the sweat off Connor’s shoulder.

“Oliver…” Connor brought his head up, twisting around just as Oliver grabbed him around the head and landing a sloppy, hard kiss on his mouth.

They came like that, kissing through it and Oliver accidentally biting down on Connor’s lower lip with the intensity of it.

It seemed hours before Oliver finally peeled himself off Connor, sliding his cock out of Connor’s ass and laughing softly to himself, looking at his cum starting to flow from Connor’s hole.

Connor nearly screamed as Oliver pushed his thumb in Connor’s ass, the knuckle of his pointed finger digging into his perineum. He jolted forward, dimly feeling Oliver’s jizz drizzling down his leg now.

“You fucking ass,” Connor hissed, flopping onto his back. There was no heat in his stare though.

Oliver slumped forward, half flopped over Connor, touching his forehead to his shoulder and giving it a kiss.

“I missed that.”

Connor’s head lolled to the side, catching Oliver’s gaze.

“What?”

“This, sex with you.” Oliver’s hand pressed over Connor’s stomach as he spoke, grabbing his hip and pulling him to they laid facing each other.

Me too, Connor thought, but said nothing, just stared at Oliver, the nuisance of his career.

Oliver touched his nose to Connor’s before softly kissing him. Connor lazily kissed back, liking this a little more than he should but going with the flow for now.

He felt a shuffle from Oliver and figured he was adjusting, when he felt the tall tale sensation of getting pricked with a needle.

Connor’s eyes flew open just as Oliver pulled the tiny syringe away from his arm.

“What the fuck?”

“It’s just paralyzer,” Oliver offered conversationally, like he was talking about the weather. “Can’t have you following me.”

“You’re sedating me?” Connor tried to sound shocked but mostly he was annoyed… and impressed.

Oliver swung a leg over Connor, laying on top of him and kissing him deeply.

“It’s just for a few days.”

“A few days?!” Now Connor was pissed. Annalise was gonna kill him, no mercy this time.

“Don’t worry, I’ll stop by and check on your vitals.” He gave one last kiss and pushed himself off the bed, standing naked next to Connor and pulling on his underwear and pants.

The paralyzer was working fast. Connor blinked and the room became fuzzy, his focus on Oliver was waning and he wanted so badly to close his eyes.

“This is… so unfair.” Connor’s voice sounded far away.

Oliver’s face was close again, speaking in Connor’s ear.

“So are you.”

[itskindofablur]

Christmas came early--it’s time for another Movies I Watched Because, William Fichtner!

Ho ho ho-o-o-oly shit, do I have some good ones for you, this time!

Contact

This is the very first movie I remember watching him in. I was like, 'who is *THIS*???' His striking good looks and the kind, gentle demeanor of his character stood out for me in a big way: I was in love. I remember making a note to look him up later. Alas, this being the days before Google, and me not having access to the Internet at the time, said research never really occurred. (Having never seen Fichtner before I actually thought they'd cast a blind actor in the role of Kent. Then again, I'd never heard of David Straitharn before "Sneakers", and thought the same thing, so I think I'm just incredibly naive when it comes to movies.) Anyway, I was not looking forward to re-watching this, as my only other memories are of how very much the ending pissed me off, and I hated the Matthew McConaughey character. But, naturally, Fichtner was wonderful. I loved the moment where Kent told James Woods it was "nice to smell him again", muttering "Never figured him for a Polo man" with a shrug after Woods leaves.

The Amateurs (aka The Moguls)

I've posted about this one before, but not really in depth, though my original take of "character actors doing small-town quirkiness" still stands. And I LOVE Fichtner as Otis, the church custodian whose contribution to his friend's porn movie is "guy who stands around and watches" (i.e., executive producer). He's not the brightest of the small-town friends (but not the dumbest, either), and he looks damn fine with his wild hair and in his tee-shirt denim vest ensembles. Also, Fichtner is SO. GODDAMNED. CUTE in the special features--the film of him hanging out at Jeff Bridges' "sleepover" at the beach house, talking about his character--and, especially the part where the cast is asked about their first experiences with porn. He just stares for a minute, then grins, then looks away and laughs softly. I fucking died. Also, apparently, a bunch of the crew made tee shirts with his high school senior picture on the front (oh lort, the 70s hair), and a picture of him from his time in the high school gymnastics team (WHAT????!!!) on the back. All I gotta say is, if I had a TARDIS, I'd go to that school. Goddamn.

(Front photo. There is so much going on, here.)

(Back photo. Couldn't find the exact picture from the back of the shirts, dammit.)

...that got a bit off topic, huh? Uh, anyway--

Drowning Mona

OMFG, that hair. In this black comedy, Fichtner plays Phil Dearborn, the battered (and philandering) husband of the titular Mona. Phil is not a smart man, and in some flashbacks (it's that kind of movie), not a kind man. His tightly-permed hair, long sideburns, and terrible polo shirts are not an attractive look, but it fits the small-town lunkhead perfectly. Fichtner is very funny in the movie, and I'll admit, most of my laughs came from his readings of lines like "Don't kiss the dog's ass!" (while calling Casey Affleck's character a 'kiss-ass'), the way he barks out “KISS-ASS!!” like a savant while the family, as a whole, berates Affleck, and his response to his wife's question of the type of salad you make when life hands you shit ("Shit-salad?" he cluelessly suggests, blinking at a glaring Bette Midler). I will also never hear the song “Wheel Watcher” the same way, again. Most every role I've seen him in gets an enthusiastic "Still would!" from me, no matter how altered he looks (helloooo, Butch Cavendish), but this character gives me pause.

(who am I kidding; of course, I still would.)

Thanks for reading! I’ll be back next time with more Movies I Watched Because, William Fichtner!

[viralmass-a-blog]

If anyone tries to look into Alex’s mind and hear his thoughts or look at his personal memories, good luck. There are over a thousand people in his head with over a thousand unique lifetimes of memories to sift through.

Although Alex can protect his mind, any sufficiently developed psychic who gets past his mental barriers will hear what he hears on a momentary basis: whispers, screams, curses and the memories of those within him. And it isn’t one at a time, either. His head’s crowded, and they’re always speaking all at once.

Below the cut lies a shortened version of what you’re likely to see. Obviously, it’s missing the visuals. So have fun with that.

“-ook at me look at me! Look at what I can do! Why aren’t you lookin-“

“-pledge allegiance, to the flag, of the United States of Ameri-“

“-iamo andare negli Stati Uniti? Perché non possiamo rimanere in Ital-”

-keep saying that we’re going America but I don-

“-ani ga watashi no yūjin ni tsuite no?” It’s so unfair I can’t stop crying why are we go-

-at jerk took my cards! “Ms. Watson! Ms. Watso-“

-re they bloody? Did I cut mysel-

-no recess in middle school? Why? Just all classes all the time-

“¡Fuera de aquí negro pedazo de mierda!” What an asshole! Did he really just sa-

-oly shit holy shit her lips are so close to mine do I slip tongue do I just peck I don-

-likes me! He really really likes me! It was just like in the movi-

Holy hell that was rad. “I wish I could do somethin’ like that, man-“

-uck this is weird. The fuck does ‘kush’ mean anyw-

-no one likes me I could just end it right here oh my god why doesn’t he like me my mascara is rui-

“-you don’t get your grade up to at least a D, you will be held back a grade. Do you unders-“

I fucking hate algebra. Half of this crap doesn’t even make se-

-lp her with her shit and that’s how she repays me bipolar bitch-

“-ant you to be my first.” Oh fuck this is the real deal how do I start fucking wing it-!

-‘s love I can’t stop thinking about him the way he smil-

“I need some space, Bethany!” I don’t need this asshole anyway he’s a deadbeat ass my dad was ri-

-y god I’m holding my son in my arms oh my god I’m a father this is my son holy shit oh my god oh my-

“-eed to lay you off.” No no no this was the only place that would hire me fuck this recession no no n-

-rried we’re getting married! How did he pay for that airplane!? Oh my god this is the happiest day of my-

-enough income I’m going to joi-

“-e careful.” I kiss her it’s going to be the last time for a long time I’ll miss you baby-

-bout to be court marshaled but instead they sign me up for some ‘Blackwalk’ thing? Smells like bullshit to me-

“-os quieren muertos! Es América o morir! ¿Entien-“

“-isn’t some spy agency you can tell your fucking buddies about! We! Do! Not! Exist! Period! Any of you sorry little fuckwits let it d-“

-an’t believe I’m coming home. Manhattan here I come baby! Daddy’s coming ho-

“WHEN WE HUNT, WE KILL!”

“-edes llevarme a Manhattan? Mi hermano le pagará un montó-“

“NO ONE IS SAFE! NOTHING IS SACRED!”

“-‘s a transfer. Gotta go to Manhattan. Don’t worry, baby, we’ll be fi-“

“WE ARE BLACKWATCH!”

Manhattan? Seriously? The baby will probably choke on all the damn smog in that shitho-

“WE ARE THE LAST LINE OF DEFENSE!”

“-wanted to live in a big city. I don’t know, maybe I’m weird or someth-“

“WE WILL BURN OUR OWN TO HOLD THE RED LINE!”

“-amo come la mafia dannato! Mazzo di italiani a Manhattan insie-!”

“IT IS THE LAST LINE TO EVER HOLD!”

“Alex, please! You have to think about this!” “I’ve had enough ‘thinking about it’, Karen. Goodbye.”

-people are flipping out about the news. What the hell happened that’s so damn important?

Oh my god what the fuck happened at the station?

“-estimated thousands dead in a devastating biological attack on Penn Station. The bodies have yet to be identified due to quarantine-“

“-ime suspect is Alexander James Mercer-“

“We seeing action?” “Fuck yeah man, red line’s been drawn.”

“-clothes were attached to the corpse and could not be removed by conventional means. We’ve already scheduled an autopsy to find out wh-“

“’Woke up?’ What the fuck do you mean ‘woke up’? Ah, shit, get Cross on the li-“

“Mercer, Dana A. Target is in Manhattan. I want her alive-“

“-threw a goddamn taxi at it! What the fu-“

“-rget is not down! I repeat, target is not down!”

“-no body, just a bloodstain. No calls, no sign of struggle, and no sign of our resident superma-“

How the fuck did she disappear with a dead operative in her wake? There’s going to be hell to pay for th-

“-ible runner?” “Not likely. Runners can do some crazy shit but they can’t come back from the dead.”

-oly shit that guy is running up the side of the building!

“-ny sign of the perp, and you call in military backup. Do not, I repeat, do not, engage!” “Why? It’s just one guy. Nothing the NYPD can’t handl-“

“Priority target’s designation is now ZEUS.”

The time for waiting waiting waiting is over.

“-eing chased by some kind of wild fuckin’ animals!”

“MOTHER has escaped containment!” “How the fuck did that happ-“

“-nything like Hope?” “No. No, this is going to be much worse.”

“Blackwatch can’t handle this alone. We need shock troops. Call in the marines.”

-ing back home to deploy in Manhattan? Are we going to be attacked?

-on in Manhattan? Why do we need all this fucking gear in our home-

“-fuckin towlheads I bet. I swear it’s like nine eleven two point oh, with no airplanes this time.”

-ake orders from these black op guys? Who the fuck are they? What authority do they ha-

Why is the sky red like that? What’s happening?

“-oly shit are these numbers real? This can’t be contained-“

“-ese fucking amateurs are pissing me off.” “Deal with it. They go in first to take hits, we go in after to clean up. Unless, you’d like to go first?”

“-fighting real goddamn monsters. Giant apes, fuckin giant tentacles, and a guy with giant fuckin claws. All of them can fuckin toss tanks like they’re fuckin toys. Welcome to fuckin Manhattan, asshole. Enjoy your stay. I hear the pizza’s fuckin’ great.”

“The military said we should stay insi-“ “Jesus he’s puking blood!” “Oh no, get away from hi-“

“The city’s changing. You see the sky over Harlem? It’s red. Fucking blood red. It’s the apocalypse man, I’m telling you-“

“-stopped this damn thing before. Stopped it dead.”

“Saw those gasmask assholes gun down a whole family. Crying kids, crying wife, begging husband. They just fucking gunned them down. And laughed.” “Jesus Christ, and they’re calling the shots here!?”

“Priority one target! Priority one target! I need a goddamn strike packa-“

“Fucking why won’t it die!? Jesus how the hell do we fight this fucking thing!?”

“No visible effect on target. Reengagi- mayday mayday, priority one target is on our- oh shit OH SHIT IT’S GETTING IN-”

-ucking threw a car at that helicopter what the fuck oh shit he sees me he sees me oh no no no no NO NO-

“GET HIM OFF OF ME! CUT ME FUCKIN LOO-”

- happened to the body!?

What’s going on where’s my husband why is there gunfire Jesus Jesus protect me please wash away my sins with the blood of your sacrifice who is that hooded man no no “STAY AWAY STAY AW-“

Where’s my arm where’s my arm where’s my arm where’s my arm where’s my arm where’s my ar-

“-T’S FUCKING GOT M-”

-an see my ribcage oh my god oh my god oh god I can’t scream who is that help me help me help me NO-

“Non ho fatto niente! Lascio Vi prego di essere! Non uccidermi! NON UCCIDE-!”

-m in shock I can’t hear anything why can’t I move my arms my arms aren’t there ZEUS is looking at me he’s running he’s running towards me fucking piece of shit you better come finish it you motherfuc-

“You don’t have to do this! Just let me go! Let me-”

“It fucking ate him! It fucking-“

All the bullets are doing is pissing it off! Fuck out of ammo oh shit oh fuck oh FUCK-

“It won’t go down! Need backup need back-”

-ats what is feels like to have no legs weird it’s like they’re still there I can feel them there’s the fuckin ZEUS coming at me you want me to fucking cry you piece of shit you aren’t shit fucking freak my boys will fucking end you just you fucking wai-

“El diablo! El día del juicio ya está aquí! Acepto a Jesús como MI SALVA-!”

-can see my insides... that isn’t good-

-why can’t why can’t why can’t mom I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry-

“You think you can fucking scare me you piece of shi-“

“P-p-please let me go! You don’t have to do this! I-I just- I’ve got family! Please let me go, please- NOO-“

“What the fuck are we dealing with here, sir?” “Something that necessitates much larger armaments than what we have.” “If those don’t work?” “We’re fucked.”