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alwayscorvus · 8 months ago

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"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began

"Too grumpy to handle" - How your relathioship with Gallagher began

malereader x older!Gallagher, fluff; warning! doing 18+/21+ acts hinted;

It's obvious that when you saw such a handsome man sitting alone at the bar, you just had to join him. You weren't saint. His look itself made you want to persue him. Seeing that pile of muscles peeking through unbuttoned shirt- his masculine, slightly bearded face- and what's more- this gentle eyes-... You felt something deep inside.

You, casualy took a seat next to the man. And he only threw you a quick glance.

Nevertheless, you didn't retreat from battlefield so easily. As every "typical player", you ordered two whiskeys with Cokes. For yourself and for him.

Old roadside bar was practically empty. Warm candlelight gently smoldered in a wooden room. No one was paying attention to you. Even bartender stayed back in his break room and left it only from time to time to serve some orders.

Gallagher accepted your drink without a word. Since he was already sitting there anyway, he could listen to you. Especially for free whiskey.

Besides, as you found out later, he was used to it. As a mixologist, he had listened to more than one drunk person in his life. And he often enjoyed taking their places. Especially after having a hard time in work.

It was one of those days when everything accumulated and he just had enough. Today's stowaway chase… Completely drained him out. Everyone demanded something from him. Superiors wanted him to solve cases as quickly as possible, without complaining. Subordinates hoped to find in him a support, role model and even better, someone who would do everything for them. Family waited for promotions and an ideal son who should have started his own household a long time ago and give them grandchildren.

That's why it's no wonder that all he wanted to do at that moment, was to give himself to you. Sink into your embrace. You were so warm, so affectionate-

This vibe of responsibility, masculinity, security, all the way urged him to let you take control.

Trying to act casual, he allowed you to lead the way, with intertwined hands. Up the shadowed stairs, to one of a rooms for rent. This for worn-out wanderers.

He wasn't sure why it happened. Such situations weren't common for him. Or at least never in such position. Everyone, seeing him, felt intimidated and took for granted his willingness to lead. And he just didn't protest. Just like now. He was so unbothered. When you sobered up, you even had some moral doubt. If for sure, you hadn't taken advantage of his weakness. He assured you, however, that if he really didn't feel like it, he would have kicked you in balls, handcuffed, arrested and lead you to the nearest police station.

Apparently this had happened to him more than once. Hearing that, a sudden shiver of terror went through you. You were so close to suffering a drastic consequences.

When it was all over, and you regained your strength, you turned your attention back to Gallagher.

He was sitting with his legs straight, leaning against the headboard of large bed. His lower body was covered by a white, soft duvet. You, on the other hand, were lying sideways, on a bent arm, almost snuggled into a cozy pillow.

You couldn't take your eyes off Gallagher. Glow of street lamps, crept into the bedroom through half-exposed window and tickled his slowly cooling body.

Gallagher carefully lit a cigarette, with a lighter he had earlier fished out of his pants, that had been tossed onto a floor. Orange, playful flame let you see his face in new colors.

He fixed strands of hair that were sticky from sweat and hid them behind his ear. Allowing you by that to get a closer look at his other features.

With each passing second, you began to like him more and more.

He threw a closed lighter to the edge of a bed and took a decent drag of nicotine.

At the same time, Gallagher stared at the wall in front of him. He was was thinking hard about something. Instead of paying attention to your presence.

When he let out a puff of smoke something tickled your nostrils.

He didn't even offer you a cigarette.

Perhaps you didn't look like a person who smoked too often. Or maybe your needs didn't really matter to him.

You weren't taken aback. You raised your free hand and gently began to draw a small circles on his firm chest. While doing so, you asked how was he feeling. If he was all right, if he wasn't in pain. Gallagher only hummed to you reassuringly, while still staring blankly into a space.

After a minute, however, perhaps pushed by your sudden affection, which he didn't expect, he stubbed his cigarette. Crushed it against a glass bottom of an ashtray and turned suddenly toward you. Like a large but harmless bear, he snuggled into your embrace. Surprising you quite a bit in the process. He hid his head in crook of your neck and decided to take advantage of his last moments with you.

After all, they were so nice. It was the first time in so long when he could really relax and feel so comfortable and safe. No one judged him.

Gallagher couldn't expect that you took him seriously and that you didn't plan to just leave him. Especially since you felt something more for him after that night.

You have permanently added yourself into his schedule. You visited him during work, brought food, and chatted. Gallagher wasn't very talkative, but your funny stories or anecdotes were able to provide him with an entertainment. He wouldn't admit it, but every workday, he looked forward to the hour when you would finally visit him. Most often it happened at a lunchtime. Sometimes completely out of the blue. And when you decided to come at the end of his shift Gallagher began to grind his teeth. Apparently, he was becoming even more grumpy than usual, and his co-workers couldn't stand his gloomy mood.

By the way, Gallagher liked to complain about them. This provided him with a great pleasure. An opportunity to speak out. Especially when his subordinates, as usual, did something wrong. Sure, they were young and inexperienced, but had they really not been taught anything at school?

You were the only way to soothe his nerver, other than a bottle of whiskey.

Gallagher, however, couldn't allow himself to think about anything else. You were too young for him.

Of course, you were already an adult, you had a job, your own apartment. You were also responsible and had enough experience in life to not treat it like a game. And your age difference at this phase wasn't really a problem anymore, since neither of you had been teenagers for a long time.

But Gallagher insisted that you deserved someone better, younger. With whom you could still enjoy and experience a lot. Go through stages that Gallagher had long since passed.

You repeatedly tried to knock this silly thinking out of his head. You assured him that all this didn't matter to you, as long as you could be with him. That he is the perfect one for you, exactly the way he is. That you are not looking for anyone younger, because no one will provide what he does. And that he is the one with whom you want to experience all these beautiful moments together.

When Gallagher understood that you weren't planning to surrender, he gave up. He hoped that maybe after some time you would get bored. Especially, after living together. He thought that after experiencing his "non-ideal" form in a daily domestic routine, you will decide to look for someone else. Oh, how wrong he was.

Now? Now you are a happy couple and make an almost perfect match. At least that's what your friends say. Sure, you have small quarrels occasionally. About his not closed shoe polish or your coffee grounds left in a cup. But despite this, nothing gives you as much pleasure as spending time together, in your four walls.

… Only sometimes you're maybe a little too jealous. About how many buttons Gallagher wears undone and how loosely his tie is. But at such moments, man assures you that he is only yours and lets you snuggle into his chest. In the afternoons, when he comes home and you have a sulky face and don't greet him with usual "welcome home".

Over the next few days, he obeys your suggestions and buttons up to almost every last thing. Besides, he has no other choice. You mark him too much at such occasions. And Gallagher doesn't really want his co-workers to see your bites and tease him about that.

🌸

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accidentally-in-fictional-love · 7 months ago

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Susceptible - Jack Delroy/Reader

Warnings: Fully clothed grinding, very slight dirty talk, very light exhibitionism in a sense, no use of Y/N, female-hinted reader because of skirt/makeup mentions but other than that there's no real gender mention.

Wordcount: 4950

Summary: You spent a small fortune getting a ticket to Carmichael Haig's show on the promise of his new act showing his audience something the world has never seen before, as well as the possible attendance of one Jack Delroy, but will two hours of bullshit be worth the risk?

Notes: There is SO MUCH BUILDUP I'm so sorry I'm so weak for worldbuilding and plot I swear the other one I have planned will be shorter OTL I have never written a reader before but I am a huge fan of them, especially the DDverse ones I've been binging oop, so I hope this is a good first attempt! It's been a few years since I've written anything like this and probably a good decade or so since I last posted anything, so here's hoping I post more in the upcoming future~ This is also completely unbetaed so if you see any mistakes please let me know <3 The Manhattan Center is also real but didn't fit my needs entirely so I mashed it together with the theatre I went to as a kid lol

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Carmichael Haig was back in town and you had no idea why you were here.

He had left for what felt like both forever and not nearly long enough for a few months to do his tour, seeing his smug face everywhere you looked between both digital and paper news and making your distaste grow a little more each time. You had been fond of his trickery for a time, but his move from magic man to skeptic had sucked all the fun out of the act, his determination to not only find the real but humiliate the fakes way past annoying to straight up sickening to you by this point. Tonight’s show proved to be another big presentation of the latter you’d decided when it’d been announced officially, promoted by your favourite talk show host - and current celebrity crush - Jack Delroy; his smile was wide for the cameras but it didn’t reach his eyes, you could always tell between them by now and he did not seem to be as pleased as the two talked about it that night.

‘I’m going to show the world something they’ve never seen before,’ Carmichael had said, his usual smug look in place as he hammed it up for the cameras like he could really pull that off, Jack running with it like the patron saint of patience he had to be.

‘Big talk, you sure I can’t convince you to give our wonderful audience a taste tonight?’ he asked, the crowd cheering at the mere thought of getting to experience his new act an entire month early, but if there was even an iota of temptation within him to share he hid it perfectly. He waved the offer away to everyone’s disappointment, Jack pouting on everyone’s behalf and putting those big eyes on display as his own plea; the ratings, you imagined, would be wonderful for a segment like this when his show was already starting to slip down the line, but even that was no use.

‘You’ll all get a chance to see it on the 13th,’ he promised them as he turned to face the audience, the place and date scrolling across the bottom of the screen yet again, they’d been flashing it every single time it was mentioned to the point where you were sure you’d see it in your sleep tonight, rolling across the bottom half of your dream. ‘Or, those of you who’ve been able to get your tickets will, we’re selling out fast,’ he smirked with a tip of his glass, yet another thing that’d been brought up and hammered home; you’d gone to the Manhattan Center to check a couple days ago, just out of curiosity, the ticket price absolutely ridiculous to the point that you were convinced they’d never sell out, but now you guessed your distaste of him wasn’t as widespread as you’d secretly hoped.

Jack slapped his leg in mock disappointment, Carmichael looking back to him at the sound. ‘Guess you’ll have to tell me all about it the next time you’re back in town, I had asked Gus to pick one up for me but it seems he missed that call,’ he joked, Gus’ surprise at the blame of his absence being placed on him getting a big laugh as his face fell and he tried to explain himself.

Carmichael placed an understanding hand on Jack’s shoulder and leaned in closer, the other man leaning in in return as if to receive some kind of secret. ‘Well then, it’s a good thing my date canceled on me,’ he retorted, and when he pulled his hand back he revealed a ticket, Jack’s eyes going wide as he accepted the gift with a big smile, pointing to it before shaking Carmichael’s hand with a thanks.

Ah, so that was why you were here again.

You knew you’d never be able to get a seat on Night Owls because the thought of Jack seeing you in the crowd made you blush all the way to your shoulders, even on your bravest of nights you hadn’t been able to even call and see if there were any tickets left, but to maybe share an audience with him? To sit in the same room as him where you could steal glances if you were able to find him, with no risk whatsoever of him catching the way your eyes lit up when you looked at that handsome face, that dangerously attractive body? That was doable.

It had cost an arm and a leg to convince that scalper to hand over one of the tickets he was parading around outside the Center, but it was worth it as you stepped inside, your heart racing because, unless he wanted to risk the aftermath of Carmichael calling him out for not going, he was here; somewhere in this building was the man you’d been dreaming about since his debut a few years ago, the one you watched nearly every night without fail just for that hour where he looked at you, talked to you, noticed you even if it was through a camera, and that was all you’d needed until tonight.

You’d gotten a pretty shitty seat despite the price but you didn’t mind, it actually worked out for you considering you weren’t actually there to see the show but to look for someone in the seats in front of you, and you hoped that you’d be able to spot him from where you were in the far back corner. As long as he wasn’t, say, the exact opposite of you then you probably stood a chance of at least a glance, since his ticket came from Carmichael himself you guessed that it was probably close to the front if not front row center just to mess with him and prove that he’d come, and you felt all the hair rise on your arms and neck when Carmichael walked on stage early to very loudly greet someone who’d just walked in.

There he was, leaving his seat to meet the other man in the middle, and he was so much further than you expected but it was still him, big smile in place, hair perfectly combed, his crisp suit being wrinkled by Carmichael’s hands as he gave him a showy hug, and he was beautiful. You froze in the middle of the row, unable to finish the walk as your eyes stayed on him, the people trying to get by you not as starstruck as they attempted to squeeze past when you ignored their presence.

‘Sorry,’ you murmured as you sat as fast as you could, eyes still trained on him as he waved to the crowd to prove that yes, he did honour the gift and was there to see this big new act he’d been promised. You let out an embarrassingly needy whine when he sat back down and you became unable to see him again, the mass of bodies behind him obscuring all but a sliver of the back of his head from this angle, and you’d be damned if you had to spend the next 2 hours stuck like this at a Carmichael Haig show of all things. The person at the end of the row finally arrived and you made your move, hurrying down and taking one last glance before getting ready to make this whole thing a little more bearable. ‘Excuse me,’ you nearly stuttered as the person, a man older than yourself who definitely gave off the air of being a Carmichael fan, looked up at you, ‘would you want to trade seats with me? I was really looking forward to the show but I was too late to grab an aisle seat.’

It’s a blatant lie but the quick glance from before proved that you could see him better from there, and the chance of getting to look at him for the next two hours was worth the look the man gave you at the request.

‘Which one are you?’ he asked, looking down to the few empty spaces still waiting for their owners, and you pulled out your ticket to double check, seeing that it was R51; wow, you didn’t realize how far away R was from A until you saw it firsthand. He looked back down to your seat and considered it, looking you over midthought when he thought you weren’t looking, and he almost got away with it if not for the fact that you felt his eyes on you. ‘$100,’ he decided, the offer knocking the wind right out of you.

‘What? The seat was already $350,’ you choke, giving away the fact that you were really, really late to the party.

‘Take it or leave it, I had the sense to order on time,’ is all he says to that, and you looked back at your possible view before sighing heavily and reaching for your wallet; goddamnit, Jack, if only he knew how worth it he was. You hand over the money and step aside, the man pocketing his fee and leaving the seat for you as promised, and the view is just barely better but there he is again, perfectly in view due to what can only be a miracle, the hole in your wallet feeling a little less big as you watched him turn his head to talk to someone, giving you a perfect side view.

He really was handsome, captivating even from this distance, and you swoon a little as the audience finished filling out, the lights dimming and obscuring your view a little more save the grace of the stage lights that illuminate him from the front as Carmichael walked back out on stage and started the show. You’d never been one for spacing out but you couldn’t take your eyes off him, the $450 price tag of this shitty aisle seat all for him and not feeling so bad even as Carmichael charms everyone around you. He didn’t look to the side that often, you guessed he didn’t actually know his neighbour since the seat was a gift, but the times that he did, where he laughed or sighed at the theatrics or even put his face in his hand because he wasn’t having too much fun, were all cataloged away in your head forever, the perfect souvenirs to last you a lifetime of home viewing after this.

At about an hour in according to your old watch, Jack looked about ready to get up and find any reason to leave, which you couldn’t blame him for, the acts themselves were pretty damn good you realized in the times you actually paid attention, but it was getting so tiring to see Carmichael explain away all of their tricks, to see the joy leave their faces at being called a fraud or having all their mysteries revealed, and it was clear Jack felt the same down in row A. After a particularly rough walk-off from a woman who was trying very desperately to convince Carmichael that she could really read his mind and ending up with the humiliating reality that everything he answered to was false to get her to out herself, you noticed that when you looked back to his seat that Jack isn’t there, and you were in the middle of wondering where he went when the person coming up the aisle came into view so suddenly that it took your breath away.

It was Jack, his brow twitching slightly to keep a neutral face, his footsteps heavy as he tried not to stomp and draw attention to the fact that that last one really pissed him off, his hands already reaching into his suit pocket for something. You tried not to stare the closer he got but it was hard, years of being able to look all you want training your brain to look look look as he approached, and you forced yourself to stare straight ahead at the stage as he reached you. Your hands were clenched tight in your lap as he went to pass row R, and you were in the middle of thinking you were going to make it when he fumbled the small box in his pocket and dropped it with a low curse, the cigarettes he apparently smoked bouncing to the side and coming to a stop between your recently shined shoes.

Your head snapped down so fast you felt it in your neck as he came to a stop beside you, the two of you locating the box at the same time, and you stiffened as he reached for it before realizing how rude that would be despite his own sour mood. ‘I’m sorry, could I bother you for a second,’ he asked, his smile back in place despite being a bit tense, and you stuttered out a confirmation as you leaned down to pick them up.

‘I didn’t know you smoked,’ you blurted out before you could stop yourself, Jack’s hand frozen in midair as he reached for the box, his smile relaxing a little as he looked from your hand to your face.

‘Did I find myself a Night Owl in this sea of skeptics?’ he wondered aloud, your cheeks brightening in a way that really made you pray it was dark enough not to notice.

‘I wanted to see what all the fuss was about,’ you lie, and he crouched down so he could hear your whispers as the crowd reacted to the next act.

‘I take it you’re also not very impressed,’ he figured, hitting the nail on the head based on your expression alone. He chuckled at your silent confirmation and looked back down to the cigarettes, his fingertips just barely touching yours as you both held it, you didn’t even know when he’d grabbed it and you let go before it got awkward, but he didn’t seem to notice. ‘Well, if you don’t tell my producer that I’m smoking again, then I won’t tell Haig that you didn’t like his show, deal?’

You sucked in a breath as he moved the box to his left hand, offering up his right for a handshake this time to seal the deal, your heart pounding as you shook on it, his smile more genuine than you’d seen all night, you could always tell. He stood back up as the act finished and Carmichael went back to his disproving, his mood dropping again as his need to escape rearose. You both offered a look of disdain at the stage before he stood back up to move again, something stopping him midstep before he turned on his heel and leaned back down to you, a shiver running down your spine at how close he was so he could be heard.

‘Have you ever been to one of my shows?’ he asked, genuine curiosity in his voice, his warm breath accidentally hitting your neck and rendering you unable to do anything but glance at him and shake your head no. ‘You’d have a much better time, I’ve got some great stuff coming up,’ he pitched, either completely unaware of your predicament or just used to people acting like this around him, either way he didn’t react when your eyes couldn’t help but flicker down to watch him lick his lips so fast you almost missed it. ‘The next one’s already booked up but if you go down to the studio and give them this card, you should be able to get a spot for a night you’re free, I'd like to see you there.’

He pulled out his wallet and grabbed a business card, flipping it around to the blank side on the back before resting it on the arm of the chair. A pen was found next, and he scribbled a quick note to the ticket seller on it on your behalf, signing it and handing it over with that big showman smile of his. You took it and placed it in your own wallet, the previous hole instantly filled with its presence, his mood clearly raised by the interaction as he wished you a quick goodbye and resumed his journey outside, oblivious to the fact that you were about to disrupt the entire theater if you didn’t find a place to scream and fast.

You gave him a few minutes to reach the doors before jumping to your feet and making for the bathroom, your heels clickclacking on the tile the entire way until you found the correct door. The place was empty, which was great because once you caught sight of yourself you knew that it was bad enough he saw you this way, no one else should get the pleasure; your face was redder than you’d ever seen it, your pupils blown from the exchange and you could’ve sworn you could actually see yourself shaking you were buzzing so hard, your grin so wide anyone else would’ve assumed that Santa had just given you the toy you’d always wanted for Christmas early.

You tried to calm yourself as you ripped off some paper towels and dampened them, patting them against your cheeks and neck to bring your body temperature back down to a normal person’s, carefully avoiding your makeup that you were thankful you spent the time putting on just on the ultra rare off chance you’d run into him. When you were ready to go back - and after a quick internal debate on whether you should try and meet him outside for another, less hushed conversation already - you made sure to calm your breathing before heading back out there, taking a quick moment to look for him before making the trek back to your seat.

When you got back you noticed that no new act was on, Carmichael already talking to the audience and projecting himself up on the screens for all to see, you rolling your eyes as you collapsed into the rich red velvet and preparing for more of his bullshit until Jack returned, if he felt like it that was. Everyone around you was concentrating on his words, staring right ahead as the theater fell silent save for his voice and the sound of a ticking clock; ah, he was trying to hypnotize everyone, that must’ve been his big final act that he’d promised his audience. You weren’t impressed, you’d tried to be hypnotized before at a party in your youth, it hadn’t worked then so it wasn’t going to work now you knew, so you sat back and prepared to at least enjoy whatever he was going to make the audience do.

Your thoughts went back to Jack as Carmichael’s voice slowly got drowned out, the ticking a bit louder in your ears despite the distance, but you didn’t mind because it was nonsense anyway, ‘Now who’s the skeptic,’ you think to yourself as you sink deeper into your chair. You vaguely heard the words, ‘Your greatest desire,’ in your ear before you felt a hand on your shoulder, your eyes leaving the stage to travel up until you saw Jack standing just behind you in the aisle, his smile from before now more like a smirk as he motioned towards the doors like he wanted you to follow him.

You looked back at the stage as Carmichael invited someone from the audience up to stand with him, some poor hypnotized fool who was bound to be humiliated along with everyone else who stood with him tonight, and you decided that you’d rather not see that again before standing and following Jack. There was a small hallway between the theater and the doors on that side of the back wall, the two of you out of view from everyone else but Carmichael’s voice still reaching, and you were about to wonder if he was leading you outside to just leave or talk when he turned and pushed you against the wall with a muffled thud. Your back met cold paint as your chest met with his, your eyes locking as he cornered you where no one could see, a confidence he saved for the cameras now focused solely on you as he looked you over the same way you’d done to him a thousand times over.

‘I couldn’t wait for you to come to my show,’ he whispered, his voice impossibly low as he held you in place, a knee parting yours and making you gasp, ‘you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.’

‘You’re just telling me what I wanna hear,’ you managed to get out, his eyes closing as he leaned in to grin against your cheek.

‘Is it working?’

You didn’t dare answer but you might as well have because your silence was enough to spur him into action, your head falling back against the wall as he started to kiss your neck, your hands grasping at anything because this was crazy. The man you’d wanted for years was kissing you not even 30ft away from a room full of people, anyone could come around the corner at any second and catch you, and you bit your lip at the thrill of it all. You’d had dreams like this before, ones that left you panting into your pillow when you awoke, but the real thing was so much better as he sucked a mark into your soft skin, your hand leaving his arm to cover your mouth lest you alert anyone within hearing distance to your current predicament.

You let him do as he pleased, let him ran his hands over your sides and down to the edge of where your lifted skirt was resting against his thigh, your legs shaking as your body tried not to grind against him; it was only due to him holding you that kept you standing as a matter of fact and he seemed fully aware of it as his nails scratched softly against your bare leg. He seemed to love all your reactions to what he did, he was in the entertainment business after all, every noise of approval that slipped through your fingers must’ve been like music to his ears but you had to hold back no matter how much you wanted to indulge him. Being denied what he wanted only made him work harder for it, the assault on your neck moving to your shoulder and collarbone instead of your covered lips, your mouth watering for just a taste as he started to move against you, one hand pulling your waist away from the wall by your lower back as the other moved up and under your skirt.

The first grind of his body against yours was decadent, you swore you could feel it in your soul the way he wanted you just as much as you’d wanted him, like he’d been watching you back through the screen for years and also craved this very moment, and now that he was getting it he wasn’t going to stop, you didn’t want him to stop. You’d never seen him act anything like this before in all his years on TV, a greedy flash of excitement running through you at getting to see such a new side of him quickly overcome by pleasure as he cupped your ass and pulled you even closer. You knew you couldn’t get undressed here, if you’d made it to the bathroom then maybe he’d be doing more but he hadn’t lasted even that long, but even with that desire being restrained you still wanted him here and now. Never in your life had you been this desperate for release but he was bringing out a demon inside of you that desired and needed and wanted so much that you were willing to throw your modesty out the fucking window for just a second of his hot skin pressed against your own, but this would have to do while the show still went on.

‘Jack…’ you moaned as your hand, moist from your panting, gripped his arm once again, Carmichael’s voice getting louder in the distance as you grew closer to your release.

‘Come home with me,’ he begged into your ear, his movements getting rougher as he also grew close, you knew you’d both have to leave before everyone saw you but it was worth it, god it was so worth it. ‘I want to have you all to myself, I need to taste you-’

You bit your lip and led his face away from your neck so you could look into his eyes, his mouth parted as he tried to control his own panting, he was coming apart at the seams for you right here in the hallway, the ticking in your ears either your heartbeat or a clock far away. You moaned his name again as you felt the heat build in your stomach, your back arching and pushing your body into him even more as the door to your right opened.

‘Dreamer, here, awake!’

All at once your knees gave out and you collapsed to the floor before that final wave could push you over the edge, your head heavy and your vision swimming as the body against yours vanished into nothing. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’ Jack’s voice from above asked as his worried expression came into view, the smell of rain and cigarette smoke invading your senses; the sound of the audience in a similar state of confusion drifted around the corner as Jack crouched down next to you, just back inside from his break from the show, the realization that you weren’t as immune to hypnosis as you’d thought hitting you like a bucket of cold water. You just panted in shock, surprise, and waning lust as Jack looked you over in concern, your hands moving to pull the bottom of your skirt down to cover your exposed legs in embarrassment, the scratches you were so certain he’d left behind not there, because he hadn’t been there.

‘I’m fine,’ you force yourself to say after you’d caught your breath, Jack believing you but still helping you to your feet like a gentleman, of course he would never act that way, that was only how you’d wanted him to act, you’d had dreams like that for god’s sake, the real Jack would never-

‘Is the show over?’ he asked as the roar of people applauding overtook the chatter, Carmichael now silent, and you avoided his eye as you started to edge towards the way out.

‘I think so.’

‘What was the big mind-blowing act?’

You put a little distance between yourself and him but he didn’t notice, Jack heading for the corner so he could look at the stage as he waited for your reply. ‘He hypnotized everyone,’ you answered curtly, his reaction big and full of surprise as he looked over the size of the crowd in an awe that wasn’t present for the first hour and a half.

‘Everyone? You should’ve come found me, I would’ve loved to see that.’ He was still looking at the room beyond, your eyes on him as he watched everyone else.

‘I got a little overwhelmed,’ you mumble, and he finally looked at you with that same concerned expression again, and it’s too much after what you’d just thought you’d seen, your eyes finding the floor.

‘What did he make you see?’ he asked, his curiosity quiet but still there under the concern, but you couldn’t answer him. ‘Do you need a ride home, or are you okay to drive?’

He’s too kind, he would never act that way, he would never say that to you.

‘I took a cab, I’ll be fine,’ you tried to say, but still you quickly found yourself being led to the front door as the audience swarmed around you, his hand on your back to make sure you stayed standing, a true gentleman. It had started raining while you were inside which explained the scent pairing with the smoke that covered up his cologne, and you just stood under the marquee as he hailed a cab for you as the sea of skeptics washed around you like rushing water. You hopped inside but he didn’t shut the door right away, leaning down in the rain once you were seated, and for a moment you wondered if he was going to get in when he spoke.

‘I do hope you come to my show, preferably Friday’s, it’s gunna be a good one, I promise,’ he said with that big genuine smile again, your heart pounding as your cheeks glowed red for a reason other than embarrassment as you gave him a small nod.

‘I’ll be there,’ you promised back, and he tapped the roof of the cab before shutting the door and letting you go. You looked out the back window as you drove away, the both of you waving as he ducked back inside and out of the rain, and as soon as you turned back around to face forward you found yourself reaching for your wallet. His card was in your hands as you looked it over, all in all it was an uninspiring, plain business card, and you flipped it over to read what he wrote for the ticketmaster on the back.

Wait for me by the back entrance at 11:00 Phil will let you in JD

Your cheeks turned red again as you put the card away, the cab driver giving you a look in the rearview mirror as you held your nearly empty wallet, now with one business card, to your thumping chest. Oh yeah, it definitely was all worth it after all.

#Ray's Readers #david dastmalchian #jack delroy #jack delroy x reader #would you believe I wrote this over a few hours listening to a dramatic cover of Dear God cause I loved the vibes lmao #completely wrong vibes but it's SUCH a good cover guys #it's pretty tame for this one but yeah full disclosure there's probably gunna be lots of hands focus in my writings #his are Beautiful and Perfect and Very Attractive and I am W E A K okay

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pharawee · 8 months ago

Note

Thank you so much for your thorough response. I'm not always good at following production companies. Please ignore this if I'm overstepping, I've already asked for a lot of your time and research, but other than 9naa are there other companies you boycott because of how they treat actors? I know there were some issues with 2moons and I know there were some issues for Saint, though those were long before my time in the fandom.

That's completely understandable. There's so many companies now that do BL - some of them aren't even primarily into entertainment (a skincare company did The Promise, and I think there's at least one car dealership delving into BL things now too, while other companies are purely for investment and why would you even follow those if they're only about money?).

I'm trying to stay up-to-date because I'm interested in the industry side of things but I probably missed a lot of stuff as well.

Here's what I know for sure:

Motive Village

Motive Village did 2Moons. Then they did 2Moons2 with the same characters (and story!) but all different actors. THEN they did 2Moons: The Ambassador with (some of) the same characters (and story) and different actors again.

Why did they do that? Probably because they're so bad at managing their actors that they're all collectively running away as soon as possible. But that's not even the worst part. One of the actors from 2Moons2, Din Teerapat (then known as Earth Teerapat), was actively excluded and blocked from all promotion while being completely trapped in his contract. Other actors weren't paid and were badly mismanaged. Then there's very serious allegations that Din might have been (I'm phrasing this as carefully as possible) harrassed by one of MV's higher-ups. Din never spoke about it and has since decided to move on.

Aam Anusorn, who directed 2Moons2 (and isn't related to MV in any way) has spoken up about this, and his series Call It What You Want is supposedly based on some of what happened.

Other actors who "escaped" MV include Bas Suradej, Copter Panuwat, Kimmon Warudom (who went on to sign with Star Hunter for a while and did the very delightful Gen Y which is basically 2Moons fanfiction), Tae Darvid & Tee Thanapon (who did Triage), Boun Noppanut (who was never with MV but wasn't paid for his guest role in 2Moons), Joong Archen, Pavel Naret, Benjamin Brasier & Dome Woranart. The latest escapee seems to be Park Anandatej who will be in Monster next Door.

Benjamin Brasier and Dome Woranart seem to be back to working with Motive Village recently and I'm honestly a bit ?? ??? about it.

Y.Entertainment

Y.Ent did Unforgotten Night and For Him the Series. Recently, the leads of For Him, Tor Atagorn and Dew Nitikorn (along with Yoon Phusanu who starred in Unforgotten Night and had a cut guest role in For Him), have come forward saying that they were never paid for their work in For Him. Additionally, Tor has opened up about being continuously harrassed and stalked by someone on and off set during filming. It affected him so badly that he is now in therapy and on medication for depression and anxiety.

Just yesterday Yoon Phusanu held a press conference because he still hasn't been paid. He's one of the few actors who actually have the means to hire lawyers and go against his company. His lawyer has stated that not many young actors in Thai BL can afford to do the same.

9NAA

9NAA did Check Out, Venus in the Sky and, most recently, Kiseki Chapter 2. You know about 9NAA already but for everyone else reading this and wanting to know what's going on with them, here's a short summary.

Here's some other companies involved in Thai BL who have done some mildly questionable things:

Maximon who have since rebranded as Harikarn (with another company now named Maximon that might also have been emerged from the original Maximon... it's complicated) might have not paid their actors for Chains of Heart until the series had long finished airing. Haii Sarunsathorn and Boom Raweewit, the leads, made some very carefully worded joke tweets about it - which kind of makes you go hmmmm. There was also a freelancer who spoke up about not getting paid for his art, but nothing more ever came of it. Both Maximon and Harikarn have since ramped up production again - with some of the same actors - so I'm not especially concerned for the moment.

Well.Thailand recently annouced a bunch of new BLs and then promptly went bancrupt. One of their former producers immediately picked up the slack and founded EntSync in order to take over all projects and talent. They've already held the blessing ceremony for Black Forest and everything seems to be back to normal for the moment except for Born to be Y the series which should have aired this month but has since been indefinitely postponed.

Fix Entertainment is behind The Whisperer and is holding the series' final episode hostage because apparently a planned fanmeeting didn't sell enough tickets so they seem to have run out of funds. This is very ?? ???

Studio on Fire recently announced that one of the leads of their upcoming series Live in Love will be replaced, citing creative differences and "different work attitudes" (hate that phrase yet?) as the reason. Weirdly enough, said lead (Non Ratchanon) is from another company and was part of an acting pair with their own actor Hearth Chindanai. Hmmmmmm.*

*This kind of reminds me of what happened with Saint Suppapong during and after Love By Chance when he was basically almost bullied out of the industry because he wasn't with the same company as all of the other actors.

As I said, there's probably more but I didn't include actor scandals, unfounded rumours or stuff that has already been resolved.

#ask #bl industry #jane watches stuff #you guys pls feel free to add more examples #i didn't include jinloe because as weird as we think it is to cast a minor opposite an adult in a mature bl #it's neither illegal nor exploitative by default #i also didn't include what happened during love by chance and after why r u because this was purely due to inappropriate management #and what happened with goldeneyesview recently is actually incredibly sad and i urge you to support love syndrome the beginning

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katyspersonal · 23 days ago

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I've connected the dots. I've connected them:

1) Jar Innards were attempts at creating a 'Saint', made out of multiple victims (mostly fellow Hornsent but at some point Shamans too)

2) Jar Innards have a glowing golden string inside

3) Divine Gate is made of multiple people too, maybe even willing sacrifices for all we know! In the trailer it was shown to be very... lively and organic lol. As opposed to the petrified state we found it at.

4) Marika pulls golden strings from a literal pussy in Divine Gate, which is "affair from which gold arose, and so, too, shadow was born" (refers to following creation of Erdtree and Scadutree)

5) Miquella, on the other hand, doesn't seem to have created anything, nor seduce anyone except for his half-brother lololololol, he simply entered the Divine Gate after having severed ties with his body and personality and it already made him a God. So, what Marika did with the strings was not required to become a God, but her own volition ("seduction and betrayal").

6) Extracting the golden string from it also presumably what "killed" it; it didn't lose its God-promoting quality, but it did petrify. Maybe she stole lifeform-creating feature of it in general with it.

7) She most likely didn't auto-own Elden Ring upon ascension. I mean, Miquella doesn't either. It was, however, owned by Ancient Dragons until Lord of Placidusax "was fled"! Considering that he "awaited his return outside of time" in which he was already wounded, it more likely refers to consequences of battle with Bayle than not!

8) Two Fingers were guiding Marika from the start, they are even featured in talismans depicting birth of the Erdtree from a seed form! Two Fingers ALSO will have a mental breakdown if there is no set 'Order' for five minutes. They don't care what laws of nature are or who establishes them, as long as things don't descent into primordial chaos (aka Elden Ring must not stay broken or otherwise vacant no matter what)

9) Rune of Death was plucked from Golden Order upon its creation, and is found guarded by Maliketh in the place which looks like this:

So, most likely, this is the location in which Elden Ring was placed, before Marika took it inside of her, EXCEPT for Death!

10) Death was owned by Gloam-Eyed Queen until Maliketh defeated her

11) This statue must depict someone who should have been well-liked by either Ancient Dragons or their OG followers (became Banished Knights)

12) It depicts a woman with Shadowbeast, a brand of Empyrean (although hers is unusual as three headed), and GEQ was an Empyrean chosen by Two Fingers

Okay so

After Bayle wounded Placidusax and God knows what else he caused, consequences were that Ancient Dragons no longer could keep Elden Ring, so it remained vacant. It would be nearly as bad as Shattering for the Two Fingers who need a concrete person to shape the laws of nature, nor Greater Will would like the state of primordial chaos! So, they called upon those they've chosen as Empyreans - much like thousands of years later they'd call upon Tarnisheds, and Marika was the most promising one + the one to succeed!

Perhaps this statue IS GEQ, after all! And she didn't really betray Ancients Dragons of course, they were in disarray and could not own Elden Ring anymore after having lost it! Things once broken... etc. But, she allied Marika as second fiddle in her wish to create controlled era glistening with life, rather than letting Death occur the way it used to! Certainly cut the influence of Deathbirds, for one!

I am not sure yet why that allyship went sour! Since GEQ was literal God-Slayer, but Marika killed Fell God herself, I questioned whether fall-out happened before War with the Giants! @val-of-the-north said maybe GEQ refused to kill that guy in particular, because his fire is the one and only threat to the Erdtree but GEQ never thought Marika wanted to actually live forever? Like, she assumed that when the time comes, she or them both would pass the mantle to the next cycle. All things must die someday. I really like this idea! (Also adds the weight to Messmer and Melina being born siblings and allies in being curse upon Marika that I never knew I needed lol)

__________________

Damn, Ymir might blame Metyr and Marika for disarray of the world, but at this rate Greyoll might just hold Bayle's beer hgjhjggh Curse Bayle, indeed. On the other hand, I am a believer that fate can't be outrun and even if one tyrant never existed, another would've taken their place, so...

#elden ring #elden ring theory #marika the eternal #gloam eyed queen #good lord he is still waking up at 3 AM to think about elden ring lore...#hghghgnfh yeah sorry guys I developed bad insomnia in my sick break #can't wait to return to work so absurd over exhaustion can fix me up xD

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megalony · 1 year ago

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Hidden Truths- Part 3

This is the next part of my Jonah Hauer-King series, sorry its taken me so long to get round to this part. I hope you all like it, feedback is always lovely.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread

@jonahhauer-kingg @melaninjoys @luna2034 @mystiqueprincess @fangirl-tothemax @musicistheway @wandamaximoffbae @notagreekgal28

Masterlist

Summary: Jonah's wife is a well kept secret from the rest of the world, they like their privacy and anonymity. Especially with a baby on the way. But their privacy is threatened when a stalker starts to invade Jonah's private life.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Come home! Now!" Jonah was taken back by her high pitched voice and by how each word was spluttered between ragged breaths like she had been running a mile. Or panicking. He pressed his finger to his free ear and took a few steps away from everyone to try and concentrate but he could already feel the way his heart was jumping out of his chest. "Baby calm down, tell me what's going on. Are you alright, are you in labour?" That was the first thing on his mind. Jonah had a sneaking suspicion that whenever (Y/n) went into labour, he wouldn't be there. It would be just their luck that he was out running an errand or doing something promotional like this and (Y/n)'s waters would break without him there. He wanted to be there for every second, he didn't want to miss anything or have it start and him be miles away, racing back to her. "Jonah please come home… I- I think someone's trying to break in the house."

He couldn't even pull into his own driveway. Two police cars had wedged into Jonah's parking spot in the drive and an ambulance was parked out front. Was this a good sign or a very bad one? If the police were here it meant they could control the situation and stop whoever had decided to break into his house. But Jonah needed to know if the ambulance was here for a reason or just a precaution.

With his car wedged as close to the drive as possible, Jonah scrambled out and bolted down the driveway.

He had never driven so fast and carelessly in his life.

By the time Jonah had ran the situation past his manager and got to his car, the phone line went dead and he had no more communication with (Y/n). All he knew was that she had gotten upstairs and tried to baracade herself in their room. He didn't know what happened after that and he had been praying all the way home that this wouldn't be as serious as his gut told him it was.

Someone had broken into his home, sure, but maybe they were just trying to put the frightners on them. Maybe they were going to play a game and scare (Y/n) then leave.

That was the simple explination with no injuries or trauma or chaotic events. That was what Jonah was praying for.

As soon as the line went dead, Jonah called the police. He couldn't risk ringing (Y/n) and having the person in the house hear her phone and find out where she was. It was already on file that someone was stalking the couple so as soon as Jonah reeled off his name, address and situation, it was a high priority.

His feet curved and stumbled beneath him as he bolted through the front door that was wide open and almost knocked down an officer in the process.

"Is this your husband?"

"Jonah!"

He couldn't breathe. He felt like a deer caught in the headlights, unsure where to look, what to do or how to keep himself standing upright when he wanted to flop down to his knees and faint.

There she was, his girl, his wife, his one and only, sat on the stairs surrounded by two police officers and two paramedics.

As soon as her eyes latched onto him she was nodding her head and crying, gasping for breath from relief and shock.

Jonah bypassed the officers who let him through and the moment (Y/n) was within reach, he grabbed her. His arms wrapped around her upper back and shoulders and his fingers tangled in her hair like she had come back from the dead to visit him. His lips buried in her hair to kiss her head and he inhaled her scent, trying to stop the lightheaded feeling from overtaking his system.

He could feel (Y/n) kissing his neck and her shaking breaths soaking into his skin and her arm that coiled around his waist so her fingers could scrape up and down his back.

Out of all the scenarios he had been imagining on his way home, this was by far the best one. Having (Y/n) conscious and relatively unharmed like this was all he could of asked for and more.

"Oh, sweetheart," Crouching down, Jonah kissed her forehead repeatedly and sighed against her skin, moving his hands to cup her face so he could press his temple against hers and look her over. He kissed her lips, wet with tears, and soaked up her quiet murmurs and broken noises, sighing when he felt her fingers scraping through his hair.

With the little effort he had left, Jonah let his weight collapse down onto the second step on the stairs. His body went down with a thud and his hands were on (Y/n) in an instant while his eyes raked her over three, four, fives times to check for injuries she might have sustained. His palms roamed across her thighs and down her legs that bumped into his before his hands roamed upwards, eventually settling on her stomach where he pressed his forehead when his vision blurred.

A paramedic was knelt on the floor pressed up against the wall to deal with (Y/n)'s right wrist. When Jonah glanced over, bile dwelled at the base of his throat. She had a wound, a cut much more than skin deep that went from her wrist halfway down her arm. Gauze and bandages were being tightly wrapped around the wound until they could get it stitched up properly in a hospital.

Tilting his head up, Jonah let his eyes rake over (Y/n)'s features while his hand moved to cup the side of her face. She was flushed and her nose and cheeks were dripping with tears, but she had no cuts or bruises anywhere else and she wasn't screaming in pain so he could guess she hadn't badly hurt herself, much to his relief.

"What happened?"

(Y/n) leaned her aching head into Jonah's touch and willed the tears to stop falling. Everything had happened so fast, (Y/n) couldn't comprehend what had actually taken place.

"She… she had a knife, she was so, emotional and angry. I got the knife off her w-when she cut me, then she tackled me to the floor to g-get it back. She heard the sirens and ran."

(Y/n) couldn't stay hiding in the bedroom when the frantic girl was banging on the door to the point she was only going to break it down. There was no point staying hidden and let her wreck the whole house, and (Y/n) couldn't climb out the window to escape, not in her pregnant state. So she opened the door and tried to get past her, she didn't see the knife until it was too late and the blade sliced open her arm like melted butter.

She didn't know where her courage came from to wrench the knife away from the girl and then in a flash, they were both on the floor and (Y/n) threw it as far as she could so neither of them got hurt.

It didn't bear thinking about what the girl would have done if the police hadn't turned up at the right time. Their sirens scared her so much that she got up and fled back the way she came in. She hadn't counted on (Y/n) ringing Jonah and him calling the police, clearly she didn't know what she was doing and didn't have any kind of master plan.

"Have you found her, did you go after her?" Jonah craned his head to look behind him. Something inside of him would just errupt if they told him they didn't know where this lunatic had gone. She couldn't be wandering the streets, free to try and come back again to finish what she started or go and hurt anyone else.

"The team have her in sight, they're about to apprehend her now." That was something good, at least.

With a sigh, Jonah eased his right arm around (Y/n)'s waist and moved his other hand back to her stomach before her perched his chin on her shoulder and kissed her neck. He felt her lean her cheek against the top of his head and the comfort she gave him was overwhelming. He had visions of coming home to find her lying in a pool of blood or screaming in agony or finding her unconscious somewhere in the house.

"I- I feel sick,"

"Take some deep breaths, in through the nose… out through the mouth."

(Y/n) leaned forward until her forehead was pressed against Jonah's bicep so she was doubled over and her hands curled around his arm, holding it tightly against her chest as if it would take away the unease she felt.

The paramedic held out a sick bag in front of her for a minute, then two, but the nausea never came. An unsettling feeling bubbled in her stomach and at the base of her throat and the deep breaths she tried to take only made her feel worse, like she was flooding her head with helium and it was soon going to explode. She could feel Jonah's hand gliding up and down her back and his other hand stayed pressed flat against her stomach, keeping her held up so she didn't fall down to the floor.

"Okay?" Jonah whispered quietly against the back of her head while he curled around her side.

"No,"

"Why, baby what's wrong?" The urgency in his voice was unmistakeable and (Y/n) felt his arms tighten around her until they were almost shaking. Why wasn't she okay? What was wrong, was she going to be sick after all? Was she about to faint?

Jonah couldn't help but dig his fingertips into her skin when he felt her start to shake against him. But when she started to quietly whimper and he felt tears soaking into his bicep, he went rigid. His eyes flitted across to look at the paramedic who tried to check her pulse, but he couldn't do much until she uncurled and told them what was wrong.

"Baby you're scaring me,"

"My water broke," A burning sob followed (Y/n)'s words and when she slowly straightened up enough for Jonah to see her tear-stained face, he looked down to see her leggings were soaked.

"Let's get you in the ambulance and to the hospital."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Pain burned in Jonah's eyes that were fixed down on his wife. It wasn't enough to be able to hear her sobs and endure her whimpers that cut through to his heart each time. He could see the anguish on her face as plain as ever. Her eyes were scrunched up so tight they were about to burst, her lips were rolled together and her nose was crinkled up. Sweat prickled on her brow and a steady shake had set in her bones.

Her right arm was resting on a pillow and a very attentative, understanding nurse was sat next to the bed, finishing off the stitches. The mild injection she'd given (Y/n) to numb the pain wasn't taking the edge off, even cleaning the wound had made (Y/n) sob and each pull of the stitch sent her reeling.

For the last twenty minutes, Jonah had stood leaning against the bedframe with one hand deadlocked in (Y/n)'s fist and the other raking slowly through her hair to try and calm her down. But he didn't know what else he could do and watching her cry out and writhe in pain like this was slowly killing him.

When (Y/n) moved their interlocked hands and roughly pushed them into the side of her stomach, Jonah glanced up at the ceiling to try and compose himself. The contractions hadn't stopped since the ride in the ambulance and the more (Y/n) had, the more worried they both became.

"Will the doctor be round soon?" They had been promised a doctor from the moment they were brought into A&E and it had been just over half an hour now since they arrived. Jonah didn't want to wait any longer, they needed to do something.

They needed to check on their little girl and make sure she was alright and see if they could stop labour from happening. Waiting wasn't going to help, it would only make things worse.

"I'll go and see if she's free," With the last stitch done and the wound freshly cleaned, the nurse stood up, removed her gloves and left the room with a small, friendly smile.

"I- I'm not even eight months yet."

"We might not have her today, they might be able to give you an injection, like the paramedic said." The paramedic wasn't able to give (Y/n) any medication on route to the hospital but he had told them this didn't certainly mean labour. It could be false contractions or (Y/n) might be able to get some meds that would lessen the contractions and put off labour for a few days or even weeks. If they could get that medicine, they needed it now.

Leaning down, Jonah pressed his lips against her burning temple and moved his hand from her hair so his arm could wrap around her shoulders when she sat forward.

(Y/n) leaned her head into Jonah's chest and curled her right hand around his bicep, albeit shakily. She wanted to be as close as physically possible and more so, she wanted comfort and touch and anything Jonah could give that would make her feel better and take away the panic she was feeling.

"Mrs King?"

A woman who looked to be in her mid-thirties came in with a calming smile and the same nurse as before, wheeling through an ultrasound machine. All (Y/n) could do was nod and fight back a scream when her stomach tensed and electric shocks rattled down to her toes.

"Okay, your notes say you had a fall, any pain before your waters broke? Tenderness or a tightening feeling?"

"No, nothing." (Y/n) didn't even fall on her stomach when the girl tackled her down, she stumbled back, grabbed the door and fell down on her bum. Other than a jolt, her stomach hadn't been touched or hurt in any way and she felt fine before the stupid girl ruined her day. All of them would have been fine if she hadn't of done what she did.

"That's good. I'm going to do an ultrasound, check baby's heartbeat and make sure your placenta hasn't moved, then we can take it from there."

Turning her head, (Y/n) glanced up at Jonah who smiled softly before he pressed a delicate kiss to her temple. He leaned his arm on the bedframe and kept his other hand tightly joined with hers when the doctor approached (Y/n)'s other side. the doctor didn't sound too worried and she wasn't fluttering about in a panic, that had to be a good sign.

(Y/n) rolled her stomach up to her bra and leaned back but her body wouldn't relax like she wanted it to. She felt like a coil, pulled in so tightly that at any moment she was going to snap back. Not even her legs would relax, the muscles in her legs were tense and tight and pulling upwards.

She could feel Jonah's nose tickling the top of her head and brushing against her hair but she knew his eyes were trained on the monitor across from him like they were watching the moon landing.

It was like a soft drumbeat filled the silence when the doctor moved the sonogram around and the image appeared in black and white.

Jonah wanted to smile, he wanted to laugh and grin and relax because he could sense the relief in (Y/n), but all he could do was purse his lips against (Y/n)'s temple and arch his back out.

Something didn't feel right, it was like a shift in the atmosphere and the longer he listened to his baby's heartbeat, the more paranoid he felt. The noise should have calmed him down like it did (Y/n) because he knew she had a small worry that maybe there wouldn't be a heartbeat after all the scuffle and panic.

Was it supposed to be that slow? Was it just slow in comparison to his erratic heartbeat? Was he imagining things or were the doctor and nurse murmuring to themselves and looking uneasy?

"Is something wrong?" His lips barely moved away from (Y/n)'s temple but his question was audible enough.

"The umbilical cord is around baby's neck and it's causing some distress," She spoke as if it was some minor inconvenience, clearly years of practice in calming down patients, but her expression was not so controlled.

This was anything but good.

"W-what do we do then?"

"We can't put off labour or wait for labour to start, baby is already distressed and could suffocate. I'm scheduling you for an emergency C-section, now."

(Y/n)'s cry was agonising but her breathless gasps and flooding tears made Jonah's own eyes start to water. He untangled his fingers from hers and moved both arms around her chest and back, coiling her into his chest as he buried his face in her hair, trying to smother his own noises of discontent. His arms tightened around her when she leaned forward as if she was about to climb off the bed and make a break for it. He wasn't sure if she was trying to get up or whether she was just too distraught to stay sat down, either way, his hold on his wife tightened significantly.

"Shh, sweetheart, breathe with me, please." He felt her hands wrap around his arm as he pleaded with her to calm down and listen to him.

If their baby was already distressed, (Y/n) panicking wasn't going to do either of them any favours and Jonah couldn't stand to see her like this.

"T-this isn't right!"

It's not fair!

"I know baby, I know." His lips stayed moulded against her burning temple and he found himself quietly humming against her skin to try and get her to calm down with him. He could feel her nails puncturing into his arm but he paid it no mind, it was nothing compared to the aching in his heart.

"Mr King, please lay her down flat on her back. Now."

"What?"

The urgency in the doctor's voice was unnerving and it contrasted to the utter panic in Jonah's eyes when he lifted his head to look across at her. Her worried expression had changed to something stern and demanding, almost as if she was cross and for a moment, Jonah worried he had done something wrong.

"She haemorrhaging, lay her down." As quick as anything, she leaned over and swiped the pillow from behind (Y/n)'s back and urged Jonah to move her.

He barely felt himself tilting (Y/n) back until he had to press his hips into the bed frame and lean over when she wouldn't let go of his arm that she pinned across her chest. But when he managed to turn his head to the left, all the colour drained from his body. The bedding was changing from crystal white to dark rouge.

"Jonah? I don't feel good." (Y/n) gripped his arm as tightly as she could but she felt like she was going to be sick. Her stomach was twisting into knots but her pelvis was tingling and pins and needles were shooting down to her toes.

"I know, but you'll be alright soon. I promise, sweetheart, you'll be fine."

God, how he meant it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Can you see her?" Everything was turning and tilting. (Y/n) felt like the room was uneven and shifting beneath her like she was on a ship sailing on rough seas. The lights were too bright, the room was too warm and the noises were deafening and igniting the headache forming behind her eyes.

But she did her best to keep her eyes open and look up at Jonah. He looked different and not just because of what he was wearing. The gown he wore went from his neck down to his knees and covered his arms right up to the tight gloves he had been strapped in. And the hair net didn't do much to make him look any more normal, he didn't look right without his curls on show. But at least she could see his face.

Every emotion had crossed his face already, he went from panic-stricken to worried, to smiling and then back to sternly frowning like he was disagreeing or even disappointed.

Right now, he just looked concerned.

Both his gloved hands were wrapped around (Y/n)'s left hand but from where he stood, he could see both (Y/n) and her stomach, hidden from her own view by the large sheet pinned up. It was like her body had been split into two halves, both of which Jonah was permitted to see, but (Y/n) wasn't. She couldn't see below her breasts.

"Not yet, sweetheart," Jonah lifted (Y/n)'s hand up and down a few times, trying to shake out the nervous energy rattling through him. He barely smiled at her before he darted his eyes back to the doctors next to him.

He didn't want to miss the moment they held his daughter.

Jonah should be the first one to hold her. They should have been sitting in a delivery room five or six weeks from now, being handed their daughter crying and wriggling and relatively stress-free. Not laid here in an operating room, waiting for doctors to wrench her free and take her away before Jonah could even cuddle her.

(Y/n) figured out the moment her daughter was separated from her; she saw the light change in Jonah's eyes and the light twitch in the corner of his lips.

She didn't look the right colour to Jonah, instead of a dusty pink he could see a pale grey complexion on his daughter like she was dead. Her tiny body was wriggling- no, shaking, and a dripping, pastel pink cord was wound tight around her; neck like a noose!

"She's here," Jonah smoothed one hand up and down (Y/n)'s arm but he couldn't break his attention away from their daughter.

He watched, something close to anguish burning in his chest as the doctor carefully unravelled the cord from her delicate neck and turned her in his hands to try and get her to breathe. Jonah was relieved more than ever not to have to witness them stick tubes down her throat her whack her on the back to get her to breathe. A fickle little whimper spluttered past her lips and her small eyes scrunched up as she began to cry.

Music to their ears.

"I want her, please…" (Y/n) couldn't see any of the doctors, the only person she could see was her husband who was now a mix of crying and smiling while he started to shake.

She wanted to see her baby, even if they wouldn't let her touch or hold her yet. (Y/n) wanted to see her face and assure herself that she was actually alright and here. And she wanted Jonah to hold her, she wanted to see their daughter in his arms so their girl knew one of her parents was watching over her while the other one couldn't. She needed to know they were here.

Jonah took a step to the side, moving more towards (Y/n)'s head so the doctor could move beside him with their little girl wriggling in a towel in his arms.

(Y/n) didn't realise how badly she was shaking until she reached her free arm over and rubbed a shaky finger across her baby's forehead. She was so soft and warm, she felt like she was made from cotton wool.

"She's perfect,"

#jonah hauer king #jonah hauer king imagine #jonah imagine #jonah x reader #imagine #pregnancy #pregnant! reader #the little mermaid #the little mermaid imagine

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skloomdumpster · 26 days ago

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I keep trying to work out why Silva went to such lengths to build up this hyper-idealised image of Andreas in Sky's mind and I keep coming up short. I mean, okay, he probably wanted Sky to have decent male role models (and Silva felt guilty about killing Andreas) but Sky already had one of those in Silva. Silva was all the things he claimed Andreas was. Which makes what he did even more baffling.

I feel bad for Sky too - imagine being told growing up every five minutes what a great, noble warrior your dad is and then the real thing shows up - and he's basically an overgrown high school bully - Silva didn't just lie about how Andreas died, he lied about his entire personality. In Sky's shoes, I'd be pissed too.

I wondered once or twice even if Rosalind had Andreas under mind control - not regularly, but often enough that she'd done permanent damage to his mind in some way. Or maybe he'd been hit on the head one time too many. Beatrix was a better strategist than he was - and less easily manipulated - and she was 16.

Of course, Andreas may have just been Like That™ to begin with.

I cannot put in enough words how much fun this ask was to get!! CACKLING at the Andreas' comments.

Alright so I thought at length about the Silva conundrum, I remember thinking the same, literally why are you making up this saint about a bully? Why are you generating distance between you and the son you raised? The boy who wants to be your son?

And the it dawned on me that the goal is exactly that.

I think Silva felt incredibly guilty over Sky and that this enormous sensation of duty and guilt has been his north for longer than anything else has. Silva is a man who describes his father's attack to a Burned One and the fact he took upon his young (10 years old!!) shoulders the burden to give his father a mercy kill. It's Duty Duty Duty.

And I think it's important we differentiate duty from obedience. Andreas is obedient. Andreas hears orders and ignores his own criticism of them, he follows trough no matter what. Silva is dutiful. He has morals and a strict honor code and he'll sometimes fuck himself up over these, he'll get tunnel vision when he has 1 goal in mind (cough "your duty is to Alfea!" said to Sky about spying on Bloom)

All this just to say, I think Silva didn't see himself as a good role to Sky not even for a second. Not when he was a drunk and had a baby he didn't even really want, not when he was sober and had to deal with the fact he had taken a father from this kid - had murdered Andreas, and certainly not when Sky started asking questions and he wanted to give a good answer so he projects some of his traits, some of his own father's traits into a fictional Andreas and only digs the hole deeper. By doing what he thinks is right: killing Andreas, taking Sky under his wing, lying to Sky so he can have a good role model, Saul only makes himself less and less of a good guy in his own eyes and so he NEEDS to push himself from Sky and well... Rinse repeat.

A vicious cycle you cannot be free from unless you're willing to go through dismantling all of it. I wonder if a small part of Saul felt soul crushing relief when Andreas came back and ruined everything. Yes, he revealed Saul was a liar in more ways than one, he showed Saul was a murderer... But also he showed Sky he was not the Andreas from the stories. Which certainly hurt like hell to Sky, but must've felt a little good from Saul's perspective, since he was painting an Andreas who could easily step in and take his son and that simply wasn't reality.

I'm probably rambling, sorry!!

Now, about Andreas, I AGREE SO MUCH. Honestly, about Andreas AND Saul! Strategic my ass, these two are terrible. But I do think Saul has a much clearer head during combat, he can explore his team's strengths and the enemies weaknesses, where Andreas is brute force.

Which, sure, is pretty bad when we look at it head on, but it's not something without its place in a war. Rosalind promoted him for a reason and I can see it, when you're a bloody war where there's no place for hesitation, no place for mercy and obedience is all your commander asks from, Andreas is the perfect soldier. He's a man who'll push through whatever is front of him with sheer brute force and that's what the Burned Ones called for most of the time in the battle field, someone relentless and blood thirsty. In the long run? Not so much!

I think it shows how Andreas is as a character: pragmatic, brute, loyal - that he doesn't question Rosalind's orders and fucks up his relationship with Bea by doing this. Why did he lie about what happened in Aster Dell? Anyone with a brain would understand he'd have a better luck twisting what Aster Dell stood for (a corrupt place) than twisting his role in its destruction. Yet he does that!! He's not a very bright man and that's alright, being smarter than he was would've probably gotten him murdered sooner tbh.

#fate the winx saga #fate: the winx saga #saul silva #andreas of eraklyon #I'm always in pain over not having a s3 to explore bea bc she was the best of both worlds #she was ruthless like her father but strategic too!!#sky TOO!! Sky was just as single minded as Andreas but he was not stupid!!#aaaah i'm still so fucked in the head about these siblings the brainrot is real #thank you so much for the ask and the opportunity to ramble!!

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aegyo-ahegao · 1 year ago

Text

Kpop artists are real people! Please respect them! All of this is strictly fantasy and for horny fun! None of the things I say in this account are “speculation” or “what these artists are really like” type things. Again, purely fantasy through the lense of a hyperfixation

MINORS DNI!

word count: 5140

tags: gyuvin x matthew, light dom/sub stuff, caught masturbating, oppa kink, inspired by recent(ish) events, gyuvin's shy at first, matthew eats it up, as in all fics gyuvin is hung 😔✊, handjob that turns into blowjob, very light cumplay, theyre so whipped and they don't even know, teaching how to give a bj by example, whos top? whos dom? who's sub? they dont even know, switch 4 switch ig

Found the brain power to write this >:) i accidentally made this very sappy and cute but it's all good bc you get two bjs for the price of one! also it is so much longer than i expected enjoy

‘For today, I’m your oppa’

The moment replayed in Matthew's mind more often than he’d like to admit. His little oppa bit was fun, he got to flirt with the camera and show off something besides being cute, but this was probably too far. He might’ve not known the deepest interweavings of Korean but he was damn good at conversation, and conversation between him and hyungs was even easier. Being referred to as a dongsaeng was pretty natural for him. But Kim Gyuvin. Strange, weird, tall, handsome Kim Gyuvin. He made being a hyung harder than it already was. He was always goofing off, in an endearing, Saint Bernard who doesn’t know how big he is kind of way, but goofing off nonetheless.

It had been one of these many times that Gyuvin had said the something that kept ringing in Matthew's head.

“I’m too tired today. I’m not oppa today.” Matthew had whined as Gyuvin shook him excitedly. “Someone take oppa responsibility for me.”

“I can.” Gyuvin sat up straight with a dumb smile. “I’ll be your oppa.”

Matthew tried to convince himself he mistranslated as his ears got steadily pinker. “What?”

“No take-backs! You said you didn’t want to be oppa so now it’s my turn.” Gyuvin smirked mischievously.

“I didn’t mean my oppa.” He tried to sigh but it came out like more of a squeak.

“Too late! For today, I’m your oppa.”

That’s what got Matthew in this situation. Laying on his bed, half mast, all because of some stupid joke. He didn’t even know it was possible for honorifics to affect him like this, especially ones meant for women. He guessed it was a sign he was getting more comfortable with Korean but he almost wished he wasn’t. ‘Gyuvin-oppa’ It rang through his head again and he winced, trying to not imagine anything.

It was a rare free Saturday so most of the members were out, getting food or shopping. Really, it was only Matthew and Taerae home, and he knew for a fact the Taerae had passed out on the couch after lunch. It had been a while, with promotions and filming, he hadn’t got a decent, non-shower jerk off in since right after Boys Planet. It really couldn’t hurt.

He scooted up enough to throw his blanket over his lap, even if someone did walk in it’d be way easier to hide this way. He shimmied out of his sweatpants, sighing as the soft fabric laid over his dick. He could already tell he wasn’t going to last long, dick twitching at the slightest touch. “Fuck.” He breathed. He wrapped his hand around his half stiff cock, lightly tracing his thumb over his slit.

‘Let oppa take care of you.’

Matthew flinched as the image of Gyuvin leaning over him appeared in his mind. He groaned out of embarrassment. He started pumping his hand, nervously letting the fantasy continue on. Imaginary Gyuvin licked his lips, staring down Matthew like he was about to eat him alive. He brought a finger to Matthew’s chin, raising it to make eye contact. Matthew unconsciously sped up his strokes.

‘Say it.’

He knew exactly what imaginary Gyuvin wanted, of course, and he couldn't help himself. He placed a hand over his mouth, intent to muffle himself so only he and his little fantasy had to know.

“Gyuvin-oppa.” saying it out loud shot a shiver straight to his dick. God, why was that doing so much to him? He whined into his hand, eyebrows scrunched up in pleasure. "Oppa, please." he muttered.

"Good boy." Imaginary Gyuvin purred. He kissed him roughly, tongues dancing, before trailing kisses down his jaw, then his throat.

"Gyuvin-oppa, please." he breathed.

He heard a whimper, but this time it wasn't his own. His hand flew away from himself, eyes squeezing tightly closed. Oh, god. This was humiliating. "Jesus fucking Christ." he swore to himself in English. "Please leave." He didn't dare look at who it was, he didn't want to go through the next few weeks avoiding eye contact with someone.

"...But." The voice squeaked, already sounding way too familiar. "You called me."

"I don't want to talk about it Gyuvin." Matthew rolled over to face the wall, neck burning from embarrassment. Of course, of all eight people that could've caught him, it had to be the one he was moaning the name of. "Leave.'' He hoped he sounded intimidating and not like he was about to cry.

There was a long pause, one Matthew tried to convince himself meant Gyuvin left and he just didn't hear. Unfortunately, his ears were hyper aware of every tiny sound at the moment. He could still hear Gyuvin breathing. He tried desperately not to break into tears. "I don't wanna." Gyuvin finally said, more of a whisper than anything.

Matthew's confusion overtook his embarrassment for a moment and he turned his head to look at Gyuvin. Oh. He was standing, hands balled into tight fists at his sides, still holding his shopping bags. His thighs were clenched together. The worst part was he wasn't even looking up, his head hung low, hiding his face. "What?"

"I don't wanna leave, Hyung." Gyuvin's voice cracked. Somehow, his head sunk even lower in his chest. Matthew couldn't bring himself to do anything but stare. "Please..."

Matthew felt a fresh plume of warmth reach his face. This couldn't be real. He dug into his thigh with his nails, willing himself to snap out of it. This fantasy had really gone too far. But Gyuvin remained. Matthew's heart was racing, he could feel the blood rushing in his ears. He had to be sure, if this was going any farther. "Gyuvin, you know what I was doing, right?"

He nodded.

"What was I doing then?" Matthew said carefully, trying to not spook him off.

"Hyung, don't make me say it..." Gyuvin covered his face with his hands. Despite his earlier fantasies, Matthew couldn't help but find him adorable. The urge to get more reactions out of Gyuvin was eating at him.

"How am I supposed to know you're serious if you don't tell me?" Matthew's nerves were slowly morphing into excited butterflies.

"Hyung-"

"Just Matthew's fine." He felt himself start to smile. "And look at me, please."

Gyuvin took a deep breath. He lowered his hands away from his face slowly, revealing his wonderfully crimson complexion. "Matthew." He dug his nails into his palms, willing himself to look up. "Were you... touching... yourself..." He let out a little whine before taking another breath. "Thinking about... me?"

Matthew ate up every second Gyuvin left his face uncovered. He knew he probably had a stupid, half horny-brained grin plastered across his face but he couldn't stop.

"Hyu-... Matthew." Gyuvin complained, turning his body away but keeping his face in view.

"Yeah," He breathed, barely audible. "Yeah, I was." He was kind of dazed and awestruck. Kim Gyuvin being anything other than overly excited or passed out was always a pleasant change, but this was something else entirely.

"O-okay." Gyuvin cleared his throat, clearly trying to decide what to do next. "Did you... like it?"

Matthew couldn't help but to break into a little fit of giggles.

"Matthew!" He whined, stomping in place pathetically.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Matthew tried to catch his breath in between spurts of snickering. "I'm not making fun of you, I promise."

"You sure sounded like you were." Gyuvin pouted and crossed his arms. "Look, I can leave and pretend this didn't happen, but..." His eyes drifted to the floor.

"But?"

Gyuvin shuffled his feet around and cleared his throat. His mind seemed to be working overtime. He sighed after a moment and turned on his heel. Matthew could've sworn he was about to storm off. His chest twinged at bit at the thought. But Gyuvin didn't leave. Instead he set his bags down beside Matthew's dresser and closed the door, paused, then locked it.

"But I want to hear you say that again." His expression had turned stern.

Matthew felt his face heat again. Right, he was supposed to be the embarrassed one here. He'd been walked in on and he'd completely forgotten as soon as Gyuvin acted cute. He really was done for.

"Matthew."

He yelped then cringed at the noise. "Yeah?" He squeaked.

Gyuvin took a careful step forward. "Can I- please- can I touch you?" His face was no less red than before, but it seemed he'd found some confidence.

Matthew couldn't stop the nod that came out of him. "Please." it sounded desperate, but he kinda was.

Gyuvin approached slowly, taking off his jacket on his way. He kneeled in front of Matthew's bed, eyes trained on Matthew's. "Can I...?" He gestured to the blanket that was still draped over Matthew's lap.

Matthew bit his lip and nodded. God, what was he getting himself into?

Gyuvin was so gentle, sliding the blanket off slowly and deliberately. Unveiling Matthew like he was something precious. He exhaled deeply once he was in full view. "Wow." He breathed, his hands floating absently around. "Okay, hhhh, okay, wow."

Matthew chuckled under his breath. "Am I that impressive?"

"Yeah..." Gyuvin whispered, half there. "You're really pretty, Hyung."

Matthew felt his dick twitch at the compliment and groaned. "Sorry, I-"

"Don't be." Gyuvin interrupted. "It's cute." He swallowed and took his eyes off of Matthew's crotch, seemingly with great effort. "I'm gonna start now, okay?"

"O-okay." Matthew winced at himself.

Gyuvin gently wrapped his hand around the base of Matthew's cock, squeezing softly. "Warm..." he mumbled absent-mindedly. He inched his hand upward, more feeling him up than trying to get him off. He placed his hand on Matthew's inner thigh and scooched forward, eyes twinkling with interest. He thumbed at the bit of skin connecting Matthew's foreskin to the head of his cock, making him gasp. Ever so slowly, Gyuvin started moving his hand, working his way up and down Matthew's shaft, staring intently at every movement.

Matthew covered his mouth with his hand. Not only was Taerae asleep not even 30 feet away, but it just felt way too embarrassing to let Gyuvin hear anything. Even if Gyuvin was the one making him make the embarrassing noises. Jesus, this was really happening. Matthew stole a look downwards. Gyuvin, with his hand on Matthew's dick. He couldn't comprehend that, even just as a sentence. His brain flashed that same image of Gyuvin baring over top of him from before. "Gyu-...Gyuvin?" He tried not to pant.

"Yes, Matthew?" Gyuvin had no intention of stopping his movement now that he'd started, Matthew's voice seemingly only spurring him on.

"What you said before..." Matthew winced and covered his mouth again, whimpering into it. "Did- ah- did you mean it? Do you want- ah- me to call you-" He was cut off by Gyuvin's increasing pressure on his dick, strokes speeding up the more he talked. "Ngh!" A strangled moan fought its way out, somehow making Matthew blush even deeper.

"Call me what?" Gyuvin's voice came out darker than before. He might be even worse off than Matthew.

"Oh, come on! You know- ah- what I'm talking about." Matthew whined.

"Yeah, but I wanna hear you say it." Gyuvin finally took his eyes back off of Matthew's dick. "Please."

And who could deny a face like that? Red down to his collarbone, pupils blown, lips parted just enough that Matthew could see his tongue. "Gyuvin... Gyuvin-oppa." The embarrassment curled its way up through Matthew's stomach.

"Fuck..." Gyuvin's head dropped to his chest, strokes going lopsided. "Matthew, I really want you in my mouth right now, but I've- I haven't-not with a guy anyway-" he blathered.

God, he was so cute. "You can- if you want. I wouldn't mind. I can teach you." Matthew reached down and stroked the top of his head. "I mean as long as you don't bite it off, I think you're fine." He chuckled.

Gyuvin whined incoherently. "Matthew, no fair." He flopped forward, squishing his cheek into Matthew's bare thigh.

"Sorry, sorry." Matthew smiled fondly at the top of Gyuvin's head. He wasn't sure if they'd ever had this much contact before, but maybe that was for a reason. "Gyuvinnie-"

His head shot up and he gave Matthew what was probably supposed to be a glare, but his fucked out expression overrid it.

"Gyuvinnie...Oppa." Matthew swallowed. He hated that it'd already gotten easier to say. "Let me teach you, huh?" He braved a hand on Gyuvin's cheek, which he immediately nuzzled into. Cute. He scooched forwards on his knees, crotch absently bumping into Matthew's shin. "Jesus." Matthew wasn't sure if Gyuvin's dick hit him or straight bone. "You're really hard."

Gyuvinnie nodded lazily. "You're really hot."

"Do you... I mean, I could teach you... by example, if you want?" Matthew felt like he should probably be embarrassed, especially given how embarrassed he was at just calling Gyuvin a name, but he wasn't. He was kinda curious, if anything.

Gyuvin's eyes shot open- as open as he could make them, given his state. "Oh! Um, uh- o-okay. If you want."

"Don't worry, I have experience." Matthew smiled smugly. "Come up here." He patted the bed then slid off, pulling up his sweatpants as he went. Gyuvin crawled up onto the bed, knees clamped shut. "Relax, I got this. Tell me if you need a break." He paused. "Gyuvin-oppa." The expression on Gyuvin's face made Matthew smile like a cat. He leaned forward and started busying himself with Gyuvin's fly. It was no easy task given the massive tent blocking his view. Even through his pants, Matthew was already dreading how big Gyuvin was going to be. His fly came undone and Gyuvin lifted his hips to making tugging his pants down easier. He was chewing on his sleeve. Cute. Matthew braced himself then tugged down the waistband of his boxer-briefs. Gyuvin's cock sprang free with a bounce. "Jesus christ." He stared open mouthed at it.

"Is something wrong?" Gyuvin pouted down at him.

"No, it's just..." Matthew tried to measure it with his hand, but it was too small. "You're kinda massive." He swallowed.

Gyuvin giggled above him. "Oh, come on, it's not that big."

"No, I like, seriously feel bad for any women you've been with." He pulled Gyuvin's cock forward so it stood straight, making him whine. "Jesus."

"Hng- Hyung if you're gonna touch it, can you give me some warning first?" He panted.

"Oh, sorry Gyuvinnie." He met Gyuvin's eyes. The face he was making made Matthew go a little crazy. One eye closed, the other half lidded, mouth agape with a silver string of spit connecting his top and bottom lip. His brain backfired. "Here's your warning." He smiled wryly then took Gyuvin's head into his mouth. He swirled his tongue around it, occasionally flattened it to drag it along the slit.

"Fuck! Hyung-" Gyuvin twitched forward. "That wasn't- ngh- much of a warning!"

Matthew hummed around him in response, eliciting a wonderfully strained noise from Gyuvin. Something childish and competitive was burning in him, like he had to prove himself. He bobbed his head down a few centimeters, working the rest of Gyuvin's length with his hand. He took a deep breath before taking him in until he reached his fist, the head knocking into the back of his throat.

"Hyung- fuck- I'm really sensitive- it's been a while-" Gyuvin babbled. His hands came to rest on the back of Matthew's head, tangling into his hair gently. "Careful please."

Matthew pulled off with a pop. "Of course, Oppa." He smiled at the desperate noise that made its way out of Gyuvin, then plunged his way all the way back down. He bobbed ever so slowly, willing his throat to take just a little bit more. Fuck, Gyuvin was big. He tried to not imagine what it would be like inside him, how deep it would reach. He felt his throat start to spasm and backed off. If he couldn't take it all in his mouth he'd just have to treat the part he could fit extra special. He pressed his tongue firmly against the side of Gyuvin's shaft and moved it side to side as he bobbed. Spit was dribbling from the corners of his mouth at this point but he didn't really mind, it was just extra lubricant for his hand to pump the bottom half of Gyuvin's dick with. The soft gasps and moans above him were slowly turning into muffled, stuttering grunts. He pulled off just enough to give Gyuvin's slit kitten licks. "Close already, Oppa?" Matthew looked up to make eye contact. Shit, that was a mistake. Gyuvin's eyes had a fire he couldn't quite place, but he could certainly guess. It made his stomach drop straight to his feet.

Gyuvin's fingers curled into his hair firmly. "Don't stop. Wanna cum in your mouth. Please." The words were slurred but the look on his face was as if this was a matter of life and death.

"Greedy." Matthew huffed, but sunk back down onto him nonetheless. It'd been a while since he last let someone cum in his mouth, but this was his Gyuvinnie. Even if he was sucking his dick at the moment, he still did have a soft spot for him. He wondered how Gyuvin would taste. He sped up his strokes in time with his head movements, spurred on by the light pressure Gyuvin was applying to the back of his head. He tongued lightly at the underside of Gyuvin's glands, making him groan.

"M'close..." His hands pulled at Matthew's head gently.

Matthew took that as a sign to go deeper. He bobbed down to brush his nose against his knuckles again, filling his mouth to the brim. He hollowed his cheeks and worked his head up and down. He felt Gyuvin start to shudder. He plunged down so Gyuvin was at his throat, then pushed himself a little farther. He suppressed a cough as Gyuvin moaned.

"Matthew!" He gasped as he spilled into Matthew's mouth and down his throat. His hands tugged at Matthew's blond hair as he rode out his high. Matthew felt strings of cum shoot down his throat and over his tongue. It tasted sweeter than normal, maybe it was because of all the snacks Gyuvin was always eating, or maybe Matthew's brain just ignored the bitterness more easily because of who's it was.

Matthew tapped Gyuvin's thigh as soon as he was sure he was finished.

"Oh, sorry!" Gyuvin let him go and hung his head back.

Matthew slid off of Gyuvin's dick slowly, enjoying the way he jolted from overstimulation. "Gyuvinnie, look." He tapped his leg again.

"Hmm?" Gyuvin's head fell forward again then froze.

Matthew stuck his tongue out with an 'ahh", cum dribbling down the entire surface. A bead fell onto his lap but he swiped it up with his finger and put it back in his mouth. He made sure Gyuvin was watching as he swallowed.

"Oh... my god?" Gyuvin sat shell shocked.

Matthew giggled at him. "Figured you'd like that." He stood, legs wobbly. "Scooch." He shooed Gyuvin to the side then sat next to him, resting his head on his shoulder after a moment. "Was it a good lesson, Gyuvinnie-oppa?" he snickered, pushing into Gyuvin.

"Mhmmm.' He stretched it into a hum. "Gimme a minute to recover, then it's my turn."

"Your turn?" Matthew scoffed. "Isn't it my turn if, y'know, I'm the one getting it?"

"Nope." Gyuvin rested his head on the wall and smiled, arms behind his head. "My turn because I'll have more fun."

Somehow, Matthew's face got even warmer. "I don't think that's possible. I mean, didn't you have fun when it was 'my' turn?" He made air quotes with his fingers.

"Of course I did!" Gyuvin pouted down at him. "But I wanna see your face when I suck you off." He grinned.

"I- uh- okay." Matthew stuttered, head filling with images he'd rather not share. "You've sure gotten brave in the last ten minutes."

"I don't think it's possible- even for me- to take 'hey can I suck your dick' as a bad sign." Gyuvin hummed contently then slid down on his back to the floor. He flipped over then sat. "So..." He looked up at Matthew with that same unplaceable fire from before. "Hey, can I suck your dick?"

Matthew wasn't sure whether to laugh or blush. He settled on nodding. "Y-yeah, you can..."

"Don't worry, I had a very good teacher." Gyuvin beamed up at him, splitting his face straight in two.

"Someone's excited." Matthew mumbled behind his hand.

Gyuvin nodded, leaning forward. "Someone's hot." He tugged down Matthew's sweatpants and boxers in one motion. His cock bounced into his stomach. "Hello again, pretty."

"Shut up." Matthew pushed at Gyuvin's shoulder.

"You'd rather I lie?" Gyuvin huffed in faux anger. "It's pretty... you're pretty." His voice got airy all of the sudden, like he was under some dick-spell. "Matthew-hyung? Can I ask a favour?"

Matthew swallowed, mouth suddenly dry. "Yeah, Gyuvinnie?"

Gyuvin's eyes hazily made their way up Matthew's torso to meet his eyes. "Can you take off your shirt- please? I really wanna see you-... your muscles... they're so nice." Rather than being spoken, the words vaguely floated out of Gyuvin's mouth.

Matthew tried not to flush. If working out made Gyuvin act like this, he might have to never stop. Without a word, he tugged his t-shirt up over his head. Judging by the strangled gurgle that came from Gyuvin, it was a nice view. "There." Matthew turned his face away. "Anything else?"

"No..." Gyuvin's glassed over eyes traced him from head to... well, other head. "Perfect- you're perfect." He mumbled, leaning over to press a kiss to the inside of Matthew's thigh. "So pretty." Another on his hip.

Matthew's breath got caught up in his throat, coming out clicky. Gyuvin looked almost how he imagined, ready to eat him alive, but in his fantasies Gyuvin wasn't quite so... far gone. Honestly it was hotter this way, affecting him so deeply.

"Matthew..." Gyuvin breathed. Locking his eyes on Matthew's, he trailed his tongue down the crease where his hip met his thigh. It made Matthew shiver.

"I don't think I taught you that..." Matthew panted.

"No, but I wanted to do it." Gyuvin muttered, voice darkening. "Please, Seok Matthew, can I taste you?"

Matthew shuddered, eyes trying to escape from Gyuvin's gaze but suddenly unable to. He nodded slowly, out of focus. "Yes..."

Gyuvin inched his way closer. "Yes, who?" Matthew could feel his breath ghost across his cock.

"Oppa- Gyuvin-oppa, please." He blabbered, face hot with shame. He'd do anything to get Gyuvin's mouth on his dick at this point, calling him a name among the less detestable. Still, the small part of Matthew that was still lucid screamed at him to stop, or slow down at the very least. That part was stupid anyway.

"Good- perfect." Gyuvin mumbled, pressing his lips to the head of Matthew's cock, kissing it gently. Ever so softly, like he was a dog trying to sneak a treat while no one was looking, he placed his lips around Matthew, just below the head. His tongue felt around curiously, sliding around him and licking up the precum he'd leaked. "You taste nice..." Gyuvin muttered, mouth still full.

The vibrations made Matthew gasp before slapping a hand over his mouth.

Gyuvin let Matthew fall out of his mouth then leaned up close to his face. "None of that." he took his hands and pulled them away from his face. "Wanna hear you."

"But- Taerae's-"

"Sleeping and behind a door. Shush. Lemme hear." Gyuvin spoke as if he was saying the most logical thing in the world.

"O-okay." Matthew let his hands fall. He moved one to rest on Gyuvin's cheek. Gyuvin took him back into his mouth, maneuvering Matthew's cock into his cheek, poking him in the hand. He giggled at himself.

"Very funny, Gyuvinnie." He couldn't help the fond smile that made its way onto his face. Gyuvin only responded by taking Matthew in deeper, making him hiss. "Fuck, Oppa." Gyuvin flicked his tongue over the bit of skin connecting Matthew's foreskin to the head of his cock. Matthew tried to hold back his noises, but it was much harder without a hand to muffle himself. He could feel Gyuvin smile around him. Gyuvin bobbed lower, taking nearly all of Matthew into his mouth. Matthew stole a glance down only to be met with Gyuvin staring intently up at him. Fuck, is that how he looked a minute ago? Hair messy, cheeks full, lips pink, eyes hazy and glassed over, big and pleading. Gyuvin hollowed his cheeks and slid up and down Matthew's length, tongue pressed flat against it. Matthew chewed on his lower lip, worrying away at it in some hope to make the embarrassing whimpers he was making die down. He couldn't take much more, this was all so overwhelming. Plus he'd been played with off and on for well over 30 minutes, and he wasn't exactly the most desensitized person at the moment.

"Oppa, please- Oppa I'm close- please-" It came out a lot less coherent than he'd expected but his head was spinning too much for him to care. Gyuvin hummed around him on some kind of question, one Matthew hoped he was answering correctly. "Please- wanna cum on your face- please Oppa."

Gyuvin backed off, only holding the head in his mouth once again. He pumped his hand as fast as he could make it go, tongue working at Matthew's slit. "So pretty for me, baby." he mumbled into Matthew. "Cum for me."

"Fuck- fuck- ah-" Matthew whimpered. His hips jerked back as he crested his climax, pulling himself out of Gyuvin's mouth. The first spirt landed on his lips, the sight drove him crazy. Ears ringing, 'world flashes white' crazy. "Fuck, Gyuvin-" his voice got caught in his throat. He slowly came down from it, the whole room spinning. He flopped forward unconsciously into Gyuvin, head to shoulder. After a moment he felt hands weave into his hair, tracing gentle circles into his scalp.

As his ears stopped ringing a quiet stream of 'You did so good's and 'So pretty's became the only sound he could hear. Gyuvin was mumbling at him, forehead to forehead. He looked down to see Gyuvin's sleeve covered in him.

"You... called me baby." Was the first thing out of Matthew's mouth. His voice was creaky and strained.

Gyuvin pulled away so he could look at him. He held his shoulders, thumb gliding back and forth. "Yeah. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. I was just really excited." He laughed lightly, with an undertone of hurt.

"No, I-" Matthew wasn't sure what to say, or where exactly he was even going. "I didn't mind- I don't."

"Here." Gyuvin gently pushed Matthew down to lie on the bed. "I'll be right back, promise." He said, peeling his sweater off then crumpling it into a ball.

Matthew didn't have to wait long before Gyuvin reappeared with a glass of water and a damp washcloth. "Do you need anything else?" He asked, a little panicked looking.

"No, that's more than enough." Matthew started to push himself up on his elbows but Gyuvin put a firm hand on his chest.

"Let me do this for you?" He sounded almost guilty. He took Matthew by the chin, wiping at the corners of his mouth and his bottom lip. The washcloth was warm, and smelled faintly of the hand soap Ricky had bought claiming 'No way I'm washing my hands with a bar'. "Sorry in advance." Gyuvin whispered before dabbing Matthew's softening dick clean, making him flinch at the overstimulation. "Sorry, sorry. All done."

Matthew stared at Gyuvin as he stood and placed the washcloth in the laundry basket by his dresser. He just stood there facing the wall, hands pulled to his chest. "Gyuvinnie-"

"It's okay we don't have to talk about it if you don't want." Gyuvin interrupted. "I'm glad I got to do that though."

"Would you listen for once? I swear, this brat." Matthew grumbled and swung his feet off the bed. He padded over to Gyuvin and wrapped his arms around his waist, pulling him into a back hug. Matthew felt a little short for this, seeing as his cheek came to rest in between Gyuvin's shoulder blades, but the gesture was the same. "I'm not mad. I had a good time." He took a deep breath, steeling himself for his next words. "This might sound silly considering what we just finished doing but... I really like you Gyuvinnie-ah." He buried his face into Gyuvin's back. He felt a little bit too much like a middle school girl at the moment to properly face him.

"Oh, thank god." Gyuvin's shoulders sank. "I really don't know how long I could've dealt with casual sex. You're too pretty." He tried to turn but Matthew was latched securely to his back. "Hey, no fair Hyung!"

"No way I'm letting you see my face right now." Matthew's voice was muffled by the fabric of Gyuvin's t-shirt.

"But you let me see your face when you had my dick in your mouth?"

"That's different!" Matthew whined.

"Are you really more embarrassed now, Hyung?" Gyuvin chuckled and reached behind him to pat Matthew on the head. "It's too late, I already like your face no matter what it looks like."

"Hmm?" Matthew mumbled, tightening his grip around Gyuvin's waist.

"I really like you too Matthew-hyung. I like seeing you when you just woke up and your eyes are all puffy, I like seeing how happy you are when you dance, I like seeing you drool when you fall asleep in the car. You always look good." Gyuvin sighed, rocking the two of them gently from foot to foot.

"...If you keep talking like that, I'm gonna start thinking you have a crush on me." Matthew chuckled at himself, light and airy. He let go of Gyuvin's shirt slowly, like he was letting go of the dock as he stepped into a boat. He was just as rocky, anyway.

"Shut up." Gyuvin's smile was huge and sincere, creasing his eyes. "I'm, like, really happy right now."

"I can tell." Matthew snickered into the back of his hand. "C'mon. Let's get you cleaned up too. I'll help you wash up." He smiled fondly up at Gyuvin, taking his hand and pulling him to the door.

"Why does that make me nervous?" Gyuvin giggled.

"Because," Matthew looked over his shoulder at the Saint-Bernard who doesn't know how big he is that is Kim Gyuvin. "I'm pretty."

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joachimnapoleon · 1 year ago

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It’s been a while since I’ve done some Gourgaudposting. Here is his entry from 18 September 1817, featuring Napoleon’s commentary on Junot, which shares some noticeable parallels to Napoleon’s St Helena rants about Murat—he committed nothing but sottises (follies/stupidities), he was a womanizer, he never should’ve been promoted so high etc.

***

Thursday, 18 (September 1817) – At 5 o’clock, the Emperor pays a visit to Mme de Montholon. The colonel of the 12th Regiment, arriving to the island from France, goes to Bertrand’s, asks to be received, but His Majesty responds that he is indisposed.

After my dinner, His Majesty summons me, treats me well, and speaks to me of the Russian campaign. “At Ostrowo and Witebsk, I managed to cut the Russian army off from the road to Petersburg. At Smolensk, Junot committed nothing but follies, as well as at Valoutina; I sent you there. It was you who came to tell me he could cut off the Russian rearguard, but that he couldn’t decide to go ahead with it. You asked him: Monsieur le Duc, if the Emperor inquires why you have not marched, how should I answer him? He replied in an embarrassed tone: ‘You say that night has come and that I’ve taken position.’ So, I dismissed him at night.” – “In the morning, Your Majesty, on horseback, sent General Denorval to prevent me from waking up, because I was tired. This surprised everyone, and they thought my fortune had been made.”

The Emperor, after a moment of silence, resumed the conversation: “I met Junot at the siege of Toulon. He was quartermaster in a battalion of the Côte-d’Or; I needed writers, I had requested one from Gavais, commandant at Fontainebleau in 1814, who was then at the head of this battalion. He sent me two of them. Junot arrived first, I took him, he pleased me. Being, the same day, in my battery, I had him write a letter; a cannonball covered us with earth, and he exclaimed: Good, there’s the ash for the letter! He had a superb hand, and he remained with me. The other quartermaster was, a long time afterwards, still a noncommissioned officer, while Junot had a great advancement. Such is fate. Junot has never been anything but a swashbuckler, a ferocious philanderer. He loved to surround himself with nobles. I never should have given him command; in the last days, he wanted to be marshal. At Valoutina, he was already insane.”

His Majesty critiques the book attributed to him.

***

Source: General Gourgaud, Sainte-Hélène - journal inedit de 1815 à 1818.

#Jean-Andoche Junot #Napoleon #Napoleon Bonaparte #Gourgaud #St Helena #1817

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animation-is-my-jam · 1 year ago

Note

hi!!! I recently got into wordgirl in the year of our lord 2023 and I'm glad to find an active wg account pls never stop posting 🙏 anyway, i have a question, are there any good tobecky fics you'd recommend? i've read some already but I'm always open to new suggestions! tobecky is one of my fav ships rn

Hey thanks for the ask! And that's the true spirit of being a Wordgirl fan. Also don't worry on the posting thing, I sometimes take long breaks or forget to actually use Tumblr but I always come back and I'm still somehow fixated on this show lol.

As for Tobecky fic recommendations...ough that's a tough one. I actually started a Google doc guide (like what their called, the author, how to read them, ECT.) about my favorite tobecky fics (giving my personal reviews and overview, no spoilers). But that's unfortunately been put on hold because I got self-conscious about it, and that I can't focus on two projects at the same time (my other one actually being a tobecky fic I'm currently writing, which hasn't been officially published yet, not a self-promote I think). But I do have all the overall names of the fics from the Doc so I'll paste them here, in no particular order.

As of September 2023, Jam's Tobecky fic list recommendations:

- Something Hidden (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (on FF.net)

- The Saving Tobey Series (aka: Saving Tobey, Time to go Home, and 26 letters) (all multi-chapter) (status: Semi-complete) (All On FF.net or AO3)

- Old Wounds Heal (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3 or FF.net)

- The Jealousy verse (series) (aka: Jealousy Jealousy, Who am I?, The scientific method, the sordid confessions of a teenage boy (and other extraterrestrial anomalies) (multi-chapter/one-shots) (status: Semi-complete) (All On AO3)

- Meet me on memory lane (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- A Big mistake (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- (Mamma Mia) Here we go again! (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Honey, Honey how he thrills me (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Slipping through my fingers (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Lay all your love on me (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Turning Saints into the Sea (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- A Mistletoe Prince 2: 2 mistletoe 2 Prince (One shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Space age love song (multi-chapter) (status: ongoing) (On AO3)

- First comes Friendship (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Tiny plastic polygons (multi-chapter) (status: ongoing/unknown) (On AO3)

- [Insert dumb robot pun] maybe It'll lighten the mood (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Intermissions (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- word up, it's wordgirl (and she wouldn't want me using lowercase letters) collection series (one-shots/multi-chapter) (status: Semi-complete) (All on AO3)

- School isn't big enough for two losers to sit alone (multi-chapter) (status: :( Orphaned/abandoned) (On AO3)

- Adventures of Wordwoman Project B (multi-chapter) (status: ongoing) (On AO3 or FF.net)

- Two lovers intertwined (multi-chapter) (status: ongoing) (On AO3)

- She's giving me the evil eye (a poisonous smile) (One-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- El Tango De Becky (the tragedy of tobeybot) (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Sleight of hand (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Tuesdays with Tobey (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Don't cry Snowman, it's Christmas, baby (One-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Just friends (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Spell it out (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- This could be the start of something new (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Dumbfounded (One-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Tobecky Week 2022 (multi-chapter) (status: Complete) (On AO3)

- Robots and knights the kiss scene (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- McCallister cat: Tobey gets a cat (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- I Realize Now (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Falling for you (literally) (One-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- meteor shower, quick take cover (but the hues in our hair compliment one another) (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Love and the perils of outer space - A counterproductive guide (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Dumbfounded (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Two sides of the same heart (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Merry Christmas (unless aliens don’t celebrate, wouldn’t want to be offensive) (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- The Same Sparkling Smile (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- Feverish (one-shot) (status: complete) (On AO3)

- New and Subtle shades (one-shot) (status: complete) (On FF.net)

- Through the eyes of his mother (one-shot) (status: complete) (On Tumblr)

- Tis the season (one-shot) (status: complete) (On FF.net)

- Your name was written in the stars (multi-chapter) (status: complete) (On FF.net)

[Phew that's what I got so far, obviously there's probably some I wanted to add and mind you this isn't best to worst or like some elitists list of the best tobecky fics (I mean the first Saving Tobey fic is on here and have my gripes with it lol/lhj), it's just the ones I've read and remembered. But I do think they're great and wahoo some of my friends wrote these(⁠^⁠^⁠) ]

#wordgirl #tobecky #tobey mccallister #becky botsford #wordgirl fandom #Wordgirl fanfiction

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dastardly-imbecile · 7 months ago

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Not the Dungeon pt. 3

I've accepted i'm continuing this.

---

His gaze snaps to the person in front of him, still laid out upon the bed. For a moment, they are a thin white creature marveling over a stone cube, and then they are a dark priest trying to comprehend the speech of crows, and finally the flicker of a knight, eyes wide, forgotten words spilling frantically from his lips.

---

Flashback episode?

Wordcount: ~2500

---

Rudimer is standing in the grand hallway of a palace. Around him, marble columns do the work of giants, holding up a ceiling splashed in vivid murals, old saints and prophets conjoining and copulating in cracked glory.

“Rudimer!” Calls a voice from behind, jovial and perhaps touched by too much wine. Tonight is the night of his promotion, of a sort—no longer is he a mere knight, one cog in the wheel of thousands, but instead he is a Captain.

Of the Dungeons of Fear and Hunger no less, an ominous name if he’s ever heard it. He turns, already knowing who he will see—Seril, brother, who throws a heavy arm around his shoulders. “What are you doing away from the party? We’re all celebrating you.”

“I don’t know,” he admits, placing a hand upon his brother’s. “Is it not all an elaborate excuse to drink?”

“Yes,” he admits, but surges ahead, “and that applies to you as well.”

“I cannot afford it. I’m setting out tomorrow.”

More than that, his true goal was to make it to the library. Find out what this dungeon truly is—for the sixth sense inside him, honed from years or battle, says that it is not all of what it seems.

“We will miss both you and the stick up your arse,” Seril remarks fondly, and Rudimer musts a half-smile.

“Me as well.”

Tomorrow, he will leave, and after that, he will see what these dungeons truly contain.

***

Rudimer is sitting in the darkness of his office, watching the snow fall in gentle flurries outside. It is a stark contrast to the rust on his blackened walls—he tried his best to clean this room out when he arrived, but he swears that every morning they have redirtied themselves.

Briefly, he remembers chucking snowballs with Seril as young boys, or running through the wilds around the palace, all carpeted in plush white, and there is the urge to stand and take a moment in the snow—but that is quickly quashed.

Too many things to do, too many things he cannot afford to lose. If he catches a chill, then there is little medicine to help him fight his way through, if he ruins a bit of his armor, it will not be until spring that he can request a new shipment.

A flurry of papers on his desk. All unread, but for the letter sitting apart from the rest. Seril’s. Inquiring of his health, of the dungeon’s health, whether it has loosened him up a bit—he has half-written a dozen replies, but nothing he pens down feels right. Can he really say that when he sleeps, the space behind his eyelids feels darker than it used to? Tell him that when he ventures into the deeper cells, the prisoners press against their bars and tell him how his great-great-grandchildren will die?

That two days ago, a man crucified himself, spilled his intestines into the shape of something he does not know, but couldn’t bear to look at for too long. That priests file in with two black-robed children and come out with only one, and yet he never finds a body.

But he cannot sit agonizing over this forever, not when there is so much to do. So, once again, he grabs a quill and a blank sheet of parchment and scrawls something out.

All is well, Seril. Life is more difficult than anticipated, but I believe I can do something here. I miss you and the palace as well.

After a brief hesitation, he puts the quill down. It is short, but it has to do. He has not the time for anything else. Not with a dungeonful of strangeness to manage.

***

Rudimer is stalking through dark corridors with a sword in his hand, hunting. Lately, strange creatures have been coming up from the depths—little chittering things with many teeth and many eyes and many limbs. He doesn’t know where they come from, but he doesn’t care to find out either.

Days ago, a request came through to transfer the mercenary captain deeper. The blonde man who does not seem to have succumbed to the quick insanity that takes most prisoners—despite the violence that Trotur seems to revel in inflicting. He could barely walk when Rudimer ushered him out of his cell, passed him to two other guards to take deep, deep down.

Mostly because he was too scared to go himself.

For good reason too, he’s sure, because only one of those guards returned. When he asked about the fate of the other one, all he received was a vague shrug, one scarred arm pointing towards the ground below.

Everything goes that way eventually. There is a strange gravity inside these dungeons that pulls all things intangibly downwards instead of physically, whether that be sanity, health, or strength of mind.

He has done his best to stay strong, but in his lowest moments—when he finally allows himself to succumb to sleep—he has been hearing the soft sounds of clicking, of pattering, of movement in the dark. Small creatures, many of them, beady little eyes blinking-blinking-blinking.

If he looks at the walls for too long, then he can almost see them again.

He thinks they are birds, maybe.

***

He is walking into the center of a town he cannot imagine existing, surrounded by creatures small as children and thin as winter, watching him with wide saucer eyes. In his hands, watched ardently and eagerly, is a small gray cube, disproportionately heavy for how small it is.

The guards are dying of starvation and suicide alike, but even then, there has not been enough supplies. He has stopped rationing food for the prisoners—but they simply grow thinner and thinner instead of dying.

This deep, he can almost hear the cawing of crows, the flutter of a thousand wings echoing behind every step. It makes him jumpy, but he stills the hand upon his sword—he’s well aware that the only reason he is allowed down here at all is the cube in his hands, and he was lucky enough to have been able to strike a bargain furthermore.

Two sacks of unidentifiable rations. Told to him in broken speech, barely understandable, to be food, weapons, clothes. The food, these creatures grow themselves, but the rest is what they’ve taken from the dead that decorate their village.

Does not matter. He hands the cube to the largest, strongest monster, taking the supplies swiftly in the same breath. It takes his left hand a moment to close—recently, it has been growing numb, stiff and hard to control.

For a split second, he is on high alert, gauging whether they will turn on him after all, but none even spare him a glance anymore. All are surrounding their leader, clamoring eagerly for the cube, thin fingers reaching like a child’s for fruit upon a tree too tall.

Quickly, he leaves, not willing to overstay his welcome. The guards he passes are near-catatonic, staring blankly into empty space. Most have grown larger in this time, despite lack of food, for it’s not the organic blossoming of muscle or fat—but instead the swelling of their limbs, strange tumorous growths sprouting from hard flesh.

The prisoners are worse, purely because they are all too aware, and he must dodge the thin hands that snake through their bars and attempt to gouge out his eyes, try to rip the armor off his body. They speak in tongues as well, and though he can’t understand a single thing, he somehow knows that they refer to Gods and rituals and deities floating in the primordial mire beyond reality.

As he is depositing the scant supplies earned from this foray, he catches sight of a window. Strange. Somehow, despite the presumed abundance of windows, he cannot remember the last time he saw morning light.

For a split second, he considers going outside. Taking a walk—distancing himself from the dungeons, at least for a while.

The notion vanishes just as quickly. Too much left in here to leave. If he walks out, he will never return—he will keep going until his legs give out, or the wolves get him, or somehow, miraculously, he makes it back to some semblance of civilization.

He cannot go. Not until he has finished whatever job he was sent here, originally, to do.

He cannot remember exactly what it is.

He will remember.

But he cannot.

He cannot.

***

He is crouched upon his cot, knees pressed up to his chest, trying to silence the flurry inside his head. There are whispers, and there is birdsong, and there are strong beaks scraping the last of his brain from the crevices of his skull.

When he closes his eyes, it does not help. When he drives his fingers into his skin, bites his tongue so hard that it feels like it might bleed, it does not help. He cannot remember what he has been doing. He cannot remember the last time he ate, drank, stood.

Upon his desk, the glint of an inkwell catches his attention. There is something important there—and then, as he forces himself to rise, he finally sees the paper set neatly to the side. Seril’s. That of weeks ago, perhaps months—they wrote regularly in the beginning, he’s sure, but the spaces between have grown larger and larger.

With dirty hands—when was the last time he washed them?—he grabs the paper, scans it fervently. Nothing important. Seril has found a nice woman, she is with child, all is well, all is fine, he is not stuck here in this cursed dungeon, he cannot fathom a single iota of his experience.

There is a scrap of dirtied paper upon the ground, but it is the only one he can find, so it will have to do. When he grabs at the quill, his hand—so rough, so uncoordinated, it is as if he cannot move his fingers individually anymore, but the entire arm is instead an odd, stiff mass—knocks the inkwell off the desk. Now, limited to one dip of ink, but there are only a few words he needs to say.

seril i require help these dungeons are full of crows plea

The quill runs out of ink before he finishes, but it is all the words he needed to say.

Except, there’s something missing. It takes a long moment of staring at the paper to realize.

It is missing a signature.

Well. He has no ink left to write it, and besides, when he imagines penning it down, he realizes that he does not exactly remember what it looks like. What name he would use.

He finds her lower in the dungeons, drawing out a sigil in what’s probably blood. A dark priest, skin and hair both sickly white, clad in the robes that are customary for her kind. He does not know when she entered, but somehow, he knew where to find her—the only person who could deliver his message. The only person in this entire dungeon who is any modicum of sane.

Besides him, of course.

She looks up at him when he approaches, lip curling in confusion.

“...Captain?” she guesses, putting a hand into her pocket and grasping some hidden weapon inside. He smiles, to try and placate her, but it doesn’t seem to work, so instead he launches into instructions.

She cocks her head, brow lowering. Does she not understand? They are simple words, or at least he thinks they are, but when he attempts to concentrate on what he is saying, all he hears are the guttural rumbles and screeches of something that cannot conceive human speech.

Sharply, he shuts his mouth, and simply shoves the paper into her hand, points towards an approximation of the entrance.

Finally, she gets it. Looks down. “...Seril?”

He opens his mouth to speak, but settles on nodding a moment later. The memory of how to mold his tongue around comprehension seems to have somewhat, somehow, escaped him.

“Deliver this?”

Another nod.

“I know of him,” she says shortly, and then returns to drawing out her ritual, which he takes as a confirmation of the task.

Seril will come, he’s sure of it. He will come, and he will stand inside the dungeon and find patterns in the blood and hear the chirping of crows and neither of them will be alone anymore.

***

He is standing behind a thick stone wall, listening to the footsteps on the other side. How he found himself here is not entirely clear in his mind, nor is the wooden apparatus where a left arm should be, nor is the strange heft of his head.

“...happened,” comes a thread of muffled conversation, “I cannot imagine. Do you think he is dead?”

“He cannot be dead.” This voice is sharp, impassioned. Familiar?

Is it familiar?

“Of course,” comes the other, now softer, placating.

The crows chatter and caw and talk amongst themselves. It is a long moment before they come to a conclusion.

Forward. Bludgeon. Intruders.

Intruders. He raises an arm and slams it against the wall, even as he remembers a single name.

Seril.

It must have been his own, back when names still mattered. Nothing that has use to think of now.

He wonders, briefly, why it is only now that it’s come back to him, and it doesn’t feel exactly right as his former moniker, but then it slips away in the lieu of blood.

***

He is all that, and he is none of that, and he is a man-no-longer that tries to catch memories in his hands like water.

“Rudimer?”

Slowly, hesitantly, he nods.

“What happened?” they breathe, looking at him in what he cannot tell is marvel or pity. For a moment, all that he has newly remembered attempts to push its way out of his heavy beak, but it will not be in any understandable configuration. “Do you… have you been here, all this time?”

Nod.

“Can you leave?”

Now, he hesitates. No, logic dictates, but he has never actually tried. Still, though, he does not think he’s the sort of creature that could survive in the world, not without the dungeon’s lifeblood coursing through his veins.

At his nonanswer, there is another question.

“...Do you want to?”

His beak is dipping down, and at first it is because of the weight of gravity, but then he is lifting up, dropping again.

Nod, one more time.

#fear and hunger #funger #f&h #crow mauler #crow mauler x reader #x reader #x gn reader #back in my funger era #no longer ironic i think

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acillianproblem · 1 year ago

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By Eileen Cartter

The Oppenheimer star hit what could be his final red-carpet appearance for the foreseeable future in a sheer Saint Laurent look that would melt the polymer right off a Ken doll’s torso.

Shortly before Cillian Murphy and his fellow Oppenheimer cast members walked off a London red carpet on Thursday in solidarity with SAG-AFTRA joining the WGA on the picket line, the actor debuted his biggest fit yet: a black-pinstriped Saint Laurent suit worn open over a gauzy sheer shirt, with a gold-tipped bolo tie, high-waisted trousers, and a pair of the brand’s Wyatt boots—or, as they’re known ’round these parts, “the Rolex of Chelsea boots.”

Photos of Murphy—whose ice-blue eyes could gouge a diamond—attending various Oppenheimer premieres over the last week have already garnered meme cachet online. But this look—and his facial expressions while wearing it—seemed to signal that he (and his stylist, Rose Forde) had saved the best for last. (The London event could be his final red carpet for a while; per the strike, SAG members cannot participate in press tours or events.) Throughout the truncated promotional run, the actor’s fashion choices have emitted a certain “nuclear Kenergy” in stark contrast with his bubblegum confrères over in Barbie Land, which has become Oppenheimer’s spiritual counter-realm. In other words, Cillian Murphy, who portrays the titular “father of the atomic bomb” J. Robert Oppenheimer in his film, has sort of been dressing like the Anti-Ken.

Where there’s Ryan Gosling, in his pastel cotton-candy-pink and blue-raspberry-hued Gucci suits, there’s also Murphy, in his brooding, pseudo-sexy YSL. (Inside you are two wolves, as they say.) At Oppenheimer’s first premiere in Paris, Murphy arrived in a custom Prada tan shirt and matching short tie—not unlike a World War II-era khaki summer service uniform, making it nearly period-appropriate given Oppenheimer’s milieu—with a dark jacket worn, chicly, with just the top button buttoned. During a rainy photocall in London’s Trafalgar Square, Murphy wore Margiela shades and a staunch Studio Nicholson cardigan over a simple white T-shirt, tucked into another pair of high-waisted trousers; he wore a similar look, this time with a nubby red cardigan and Ray-Bans, the next day.

Though the Barbie vs. Oppenheimer style rivalry held strong, the movies’ respective stars—in another show of solidarity—have expressed nothing but excitement for their fellow thespians’ efforts. “I mean, I’ll be going to see Barbie, 100 percent. I can’t wait to see it,” Murphy told IGN this week. “I think it’s just great for the industry and for audiences that we have two amazing films by amazing filmmakers coming out the same day. Yeah, you can spend the whole day in the cinema—what’s better than that?”

#cillian murphy #oppenheimer #gq magazine #men’s fashion #wga strike #sag strike

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ellewritesalright · 1 year ago

Text

Where the Roses Grow

Tamar Kir-Bataar x reader

A/N: This is a request from an anon! I hope you like it you darling anon and all other readers!! It's set in a weird canon-adjacent moment during Siege and Storm but honestly the actual canon is irrelevant for this.

Request: "maybe reader could realize her feelings for the heartrender? all the fluff in the world is heavily needed right now"

Synopsis: You slowly come to realize your feelings for one of the sun summoner's personal guards.

Warnings: A short fall from a ladder, but otherwise nothing!

Word Count: 2235

..........

You saw the flash of golden hair as you passed down a hallway in the Grand Palace. You took a step back and stopped in the doorway to the drawing room, staring at a figure you hadn’t seen in years as he spoke to a woman you didn't recognize.

"Nikolai?" You called.

The blond haired prince whipped his head in your direction. He grinned, "Saints, is that really you?"

You nodded and bounded over to his side. Your old friend hugged you readily. "How long have you been back now?"

"Just since yesterday--I was going to come see you soon as I could, I promise, but I got caught up with some princely duties."

"You are forgiven," you smiled. His companion caught your eye and Nikolai followed your stare.

"Oh, right! Tamar, this is my longtime friend," Nikolai said, introducing you to the woman flanking him. "She’s a gardener and groundskeeper here at the palace."

"Head gardener now, actually," you corrected.

He beamed at you. "Well, my parents would be foolish not to promote you. Congratulations!" Nikolai gestured to Tamar, saying, "Tamar is a good friend and valued member of my crew."

"I see," you said. You politely smiled at her, asking, "And how do you like it in the palace?"

"It's growing on me," she replied, a twinkle in her eye. "Now that I know you're responsible for them, I should commend you for the gardens. I've travelled the world, but the gardens here are the most beautiful sight I've ever encountered."

You let out a light chuckle, trying to distract yourself from the heat in your face. "Thank you for the compliment. I will struggle not to let it get to my head."

"I especially love the area of the gardens with all the different coloured roses--they're all spectacular." She smiled at you. Saints, she had a pretty smile.

"Thank you,” you grinned, “that's my favourite area too.”

Then, a lumbering figure appeared at the doorway.

“Tamar, you’re needed at the Little Palace,” this tall man said. You looked between him and Tamar, noting the familial resemblance.

“Surely your sister's not needed right this second, Tolya,” Nikolai smirked, an impish glint in his eye as he looked at Tamar.

“That’s alright, your highness,” Tamar said, a playful edge to her words, though you didn’t understand the glare she sent to Nikolai. She looked at you with a charming smile. “It was good to meet you.”

“Good to meet you too,” you beamed.

Nikolai snickered from beside you after she and her brother were gone.

“What’s so funny?” You questioned him.

“Nothing,” he said, straightening out. “Nothing at all.”

……….

You stood in the gardens, trying to puzzle out how to shape a new topiary. You could always make it match the Lantsov crest, though you'd already done one near the garden entrance off of the ballroom. Maybe you could make it an animal, but you had no idea what to choose or where to start.

You climbed up your rickety ladder; it was the least of your worries right now, but the old ladder looked like it had been around when the palace was first built. Still, your boots reached the third wrung as you examined the tall tree.

From your new vantage point, you watched the topiary leaves catch in the light breeze. This topiary was near the passage to the Little Palace, so perhaps you should cater it to the Grisha passing through. Something for the new leader of the second army could work. A sunburst for the sun summoner, or maybe a stag?

In all your wondering, you didn't notice anyone approaching.

"Working on something new?"

The voice startled you so badly that you lost your balance on the ladder. It wobbled to the right, then to the left, and you tried to grab hold, but as soon as it dipped to the left you were wheeling backwards to the ground. You scrunched your eyes shut and readied yourself to strike the hard pathway stones. But they never came.

You made your impact against a set of strong, leather-clad arms. Your eyes blinked open at your rescuer.

"Tamar," you breathed, looking at the woman holding you. She smelled sweet, like vanilla. "Thank the saints for you.

She set you down, a slight worry in her brow. "I’m sorry I frightened you. I thought you saw me."

"I would have, but I was too focused on this stupid topiary," you said, righting your soil-covered apron.

She glanced up at the tree. "Do you know how you'll shape it?"

"That's what I've been trying to figure out."

"Well, I'm certain that whatever you make will be gorgeous."

"I'm glad you think so. I don't have much confidence in this topiary, I'm afraid."

"You'll find a way, I know it."

Her eyes fell on your fidgeting hands and you tried your hardest to keep them still. Saints, there was no reason she should make your heart race like this.

"Are you going to Nikolai's dinner tonight?"

"If I can get my work done before then, yes. But I've still got three whole garden beds to weed before I'm done for the day."

"Do you need any help? I would be happy to pitch in," she said, smiling brightly with interest.

You felt your heartbeat pulsing in your fingertips. "Do you have experience gardening?"

"Well… no," she said with a tilt of her head, "but I'm a fast learner."

"I'll believe it when I see it." You handed her a trowel from your kit. "Follow me."

Tamar took to the work with ease. Granted, it wasn't the most challenging task, but it was a big help to have her there.

You watched her closely at first to make sure she wasn't digging out the plants that were there on purpose. But even once you trusted her to do the job, you found your eyes straying to her. There was something about the way her mouth pursed with focus and her hands moved so swiftly--so precisely--that split your attention as you worked in the next garden bed over.

A couple times she caught you looking, and you had the embarrassing task of glancing away as quickly as humanly possible. Saints, you felt warm under the collar when she looked at you. It was her eyes and their mesmerizing dark brown that made you so nervous. But, even with the nerves, something in you grew so excited whenever her stare was on you. Whatever it was, you couldn't tame it; though you didn't think you wanted to.

The two of you finished in record time despite your distractedness, and you thanked her.

“I’ll definitely see you later then?” she asked, wiping her hands off on a cloth you’d given her. She stepped closer as she handed it back to you. As she got closer you noticed the lovely combination of leather and vanilla floating towards you.

“I don’t see why not,” you said, taking a breath to slow your heart.

“Good,” she smiled. Then she was off.

……….

It wasn’t often you were invited to these sorts of events. Though your work had garnered much praise from the royal family and everyone who visited the palace, only twice did the Lantsovs let you attend a dinner with their fancy guests. The first time they sat you near the very end beside a religious lord who kept going on and on about the saints. The second time you were stuck once again at the end of the table in the midst of a group of bankers from Kerch; they were polite when they spoke to you, though you could tell they weren't overly excited to speak to a gardener.

Tonight, however, was very different. Nikolai had gathered a whole group of his friends from his days in the army, from his time at sea, and a bunch of assorted friends he'd met along the years. And best of all, his family and all the stuffiness hanging around them wasn't there.

You were sitting near to the middle of the table, caught in many interesting conversations and entertaining anecdotes. To your left was a squaller who had sailed with Nikolai, and to your right sat Tamar.

The room was loud and exciting, with laughter abounding, but the brightest laugh came from right beside you. Every time Tamar laughed you instinctively looked at her, eager to catch her smile and see the way her chest buckled.

Nikolai began a long story of one of his trips at sea, and Tamar interrupted him halfway.

"The whale was four times the size of the Volkvolny, mind you–"

"Four times?" Tamar had an incredulous tilt to her head. Her arm touched yours as she leaned into the table and your heart sped up. "It was barely the same size as the ship, Nikolai!"

"Well, either way, the whale was huge," he said, a not-so-sheepish smile on his face.

He continued, but you were so attuned to the warmth of Tamar's arm touching yours that you could hardly keep up with his story. Only when she leaned back in her seat and her arm fell to her lap did you start listening again. But by that point you were a little lost, and not just because of the odd twists and turns in the prince's story, but because of the way your eyes trailed to Tamar whenever she wasn't looking in your direction. There was no use even pretending to pay attention to Nikolai as you watched Tamar. She seemed to enjoy the story, though, and you relished in her smile and laughter, breathing it all in like incense.

And then, with widened eyes, you watched her reaching behind you, as though she was ready to rest her arm around you. Embarassment flooded your veins as you realized she was only settling her hand on the back of your chair. She looked at you and you frantically schooled your features to be calm and collected. A small smirk played on her lips before she returned her attention to Nikolai's stories.

You needed to control yourself.

Gazing at your hands in your lap, you took a breath, and closed your eyes for a moment. You glanced up when you heard your name being uttered across the table.

"Am I boring you?" Nikolai teased. "I really thought my stories were more entertaining than that."

"Not boring me at all," you replied, your face heating up. You didn't like having everyone's eyes on you suddenly. "Though I think I just need to get some fresh air. If you'll excuse me."

Receiving a polite nod from your host, you stood from the table. You made your way to the hall, calculating the nearest door to the terrace, which happened to be through the drawing room. Once you were outside breathing the fresh air you felt a bit better. You slouched against the wall of the palace, letting yourself slide to the ground. The stone below you was cool. Crickets hummed faintly.

There was no use in stopping your mind as it wandered back to the dining room, back to Tamar. Her smile, her smirk, her laughter, her warmth… it wasn’t just that you couldn’t think about anything else, you didn’t want to think about anything else.

Vaguely, you heard footsteps prodding closer on the stone floor, so you started to stand. Tamar stepped onto the terrace as you dusted yourself off. There was tension in her brows as she approached you.

"Are you alright?" She asked.

You nodded, watching as her expression eased up. "Yes, why wouldn't I be?"

"Your heart is racing faster than I’ve ever heard it–I thought something might be wrong,” she said, unknowingly careless as she revealed herself to you.

"You knew my heart was racing?" You watched her head duck a little, as though guiltily. "Oh. You're a heartrender, aren't you?"

She nodded, the line of her mouth twisting in apology. "I probably should have told you sooner."

"Wouldn't have hurt to mention it," you replied, feeling very warm all of the sudden.

"I'm sorry," she said. "Sometimes when I tell people it makes them act differently around me, and I didn't want to risk that with you."

You felt your heart speed up a little at those words of hers, something you realized she would also notice. But the thought was almost comforting, as you didn't have to explain that intricate, intimate part of yourself to her.

"Why's that?" You asked her.

She gave you a small smile. "Because I like you, and I didn't want you to be anything besides yourself with me."

"Thank the saints," you muttered to yourself. Tamar's brows knit, but you grinned. "I'm sure you can tell already since my heart is pounding… but I like you too."

She seemed pleasantly surprised. "You do?"

“Very much so."

A bright smile spread across her face, and you didn't need to be a heartrender to know her heart was also leaping with joy.

“Would you like to go for a walk in the gardens?" She asked, still grinning at you. "Where those lovely roses of yours grow?"

“Isn’t it a bit cold out now that the sun’s gone down?” You grinned, at her, a teasing edge to your words.

She stepped closer to you and grabbed your hand, lacing her fingers with yours. “You'll always be warm with me.”

..........

A/N: Thanks for reading! Feel free to like, reblog, and comment if you want to read more, I really appreciate the feedback! Otherwise, I hope you have a great day/night :)

Masterlist

#tamar kir bataar x reader #tamar kir bataar fanfic #tamar kir bataar oneshot #tamar kir bataar imagine #tamar kir bataar x you #grishaverse fanfic

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pharawee · 8 months ago

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Sorry to bug you, but could you give me the cliffs notes on what happened to Best and Chahub and the issues with 9naa? Thank you

Sure thing!

So basically when Best and Chahub's series Check Out first aired on iqiyi it was unavailable to watch in many countries. This prompted the director of the series to give an interview saying that the series was too explicit to show on any other platform such as youtube, and that they were looking into maybe broadcasting it via onlyfans.

Of course, there's nothing wrong with onlyfans and what it's used for, but you could argue that it's a very strange thing to say for a professional director who would probably be better off showing his series on other platforms more suited to traditional longform entertainment (like gagaoolala, the patron saint of queer media 🙏).

Add to that that pornography is illegal in Thailand, and any mentioning of it in an actor's portfolio is probably... not that great.

The director further said that during the filming of the intimate scenes they decided to do away with all protective clothing because it just couldn't be done otherwise (decades of spicy scenes in film beg to differ but ok). The actors were fully naked. They didn't decide this beforehand but directly on set. Many fans have later speculated that due to the stressful and time-sensitive nature of a film set, this might have been coercive and exploitative.

The scenes that were later shown in the series were actually not especially spicy. Certainly not spicy enough to call them "25+". Actually, they were so unremarkable (as far as spicy scenes go) that the series has since been re-released on youtube (albeit probably as a cut version? I'm not sure. I haven't watched it) - the very platform 9naa was so sure would ban them if they even so much as looked at the upload button.

Throughout the whole shock value promotion (because what else could it possibly have been?) the actors themselves stayed strangely quiet. They're apparently on record saying that they value their intimate scenes as art. That's it. There was no further promo. There were no follow-up jobs. Best and Chahub weren't in the special ep (according to mdl Best was but I can't remember him showing up hm). They were either quietly dropped by 9naa or bid their time until their contracts expired.

None of this is especially scummy or even illegal (at least as far as we know). It does leave a sour aftertaste however, because companies like 9naa always have the upper hand over their actors. A lot would have to happen for an (inexperienced) actor to speak up because breaking contracts and NDAs would mean losing their jobs and potentially being blacklisted and/or sued (even Yoon Phusanu only came forward after Y.Ent had already broken contract by not paying him until a set date).

So if a company makes weirdly sensational claims that they later either conveniently forget about or passive-aggressively backtrack on, then that's weird. If they show no interest in promoting their own talent and have a strangely high turnover rate for rookie actors, then that's even weirder.

And this isn't an isolated case. 9naa had a whole series planned with MFlow Entertainment. Beyond the Star was supposed to star actors from both companies, only for MFlow to later finish and broadcast the series on their own due to "differences in vision and work attitudes", editing out as many of 9naa's actors as they could. Weird, don't you think?

And, most recently, Cheque Wacharawee (from 9naa's Venus in the Sky) withdrew from any follow-up projects in a letter posted to his instagram because he had concerns due to work attitudes and couldn't even reach 9naa's lawyer (notice that he too only spoke up after 9naa had already violated his contract). 9naa reacted days later with their own very subdued announcement that has since been deleted. Very, very weird.

Who do you think is to blame here? The actors (most of whom are inexperienced and in Chahub's case haven't really acted since), MFlow (a small but reliable company that makes series that aren't always the most cohesive but at least the actors seem happy 🙏) or 9naa who's at the centre of it all?

Personally, as a fan of both Best Vittawin and Cheque Wacharawee, I've decided to no longer support or watch anything by 9naa. Kiseki Chapter 2 sounds nice and I hope its leads are doing well. Maybe the company has since learned from their previous unprofessionalism but people should at least be aware that they have something of a shady track record.

And if you want to support Best, you can watch his new series Knock Knock Boys which is set to release soon. 💜

#bl industry #thai bl #best vittawin #chahub marut #check out the series #beyond the star the series #venus in the sky #cheque wacharawee #kiseki chaper 2 #ask #jane watches stuff #these probably aren't the cliff's notes you're looking for #i'm sorry for going on and on about this lmao #also i'm sure there was even more that happened with best and chahub #but i can't find one of the sources that talked about it in more detail #and i don't want to spread unsourced rumours #the vibe just feels off with 9naa #at the very least they're unprofessional

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seriouslycromulent · 6 months ago

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More thoughts on The John Larroquette Show

OK. So I've finally finished rewatching The John Larroquette Show, and I'm back with additional thoughts and commentary about the series. My first post about my rewatch can be found here.

I just want to point out that I couldn't watch every episode because the media player that I downloaded wouldn't play back all the files unfortunately. So over the course of the 4 seasons, I would say I got to see about 85% of it. Unfortunately, the majority of the episodes the media player wouldn't read were in the final season. ☹️ I hope I will get to watch those episodes via another media player in the future, but I didn't want to hold up my commentary waiting for that to happen.

So from what I got to watch, I really liked the show and it made me sad that the series couldn't really find an audience because there was some solid comedy (and drama) in those 70+ episodes.

Enough of the intro, let's dive in to more thoughts ...

I'm so slow. It took me until the 2nd season to realize the cops' names, Hampton and Eggers, are a play on the combo Ham & Eggs. Don't judge me.

Throughout season 2, you can tell the showrunners were really trying everything to get the ratings up with different guest stars and celeb cameos. It's almost to the point of being really obsequious and sweaty. Like it starts somewhat subtly with cross-promotion of other NBC series and celebrities who are mildly connected to the show, like Joey Lawrence from Blossom playing Carly's brother and David Cassidy, who sang the opening theme song for the show. Then, it was like: "Hey! Here for no reason is the '60s singer Deon, actor Joe Pesci, and Boys II Men." (Not all in one episode, mind you). Now, I love me some BIIM, but they basically shot an entire music video in the bus station in the middle of an episode, and it just did not fit the tone of the show at all. The most obvious cameo/guest star was the random appearance of the late and sorely missed Matthew Perry as a character that didn't even get a name. But Friends was already a hit by then (1995), so I'm sure NBC thought his appearance on TJLS would help with the ratings. I don't mind any of these guest stars generally, but it all began to feel a bit forced, as opposed to something organic like most of the guest stars from season 1.

Now guest stars who have worked with Larroquette in the past or were related to him were perfectly fine by me. What can I say? I like it when people I know who are friends or family get to work together. Case in point: It was great to see JL act alongside his lovely wife in an episode of his own show. All I know about Elizabeth is what JL has mentioned occasionally in interviews, which is essentially she has the patience of a saint and that she's English. With so little to go on, it's no surprise that I didn't recognize her right away. But she did a fine job, and I bet it was a real treat for them to work together on something that others (especially their kids) can watch years later.

In s2e17, "Whipping Post," Joey Lawrence guest stars as Carly's brother, Sonny. During a scene where nurse Catherine (played by the highly underrated Alison LaPlaca) is dressing a bad cut on his arm at the hospital, Sonny keeps hitting on Catherine while she's working. In a quick back and forth, he tells her how attractive and funny she is. She responds by saying something to the effect, "Thanks for that. It's nice to hear, but I've been on 5 cancelled sitcoms. Nobody gets me." The comment gets a huge laugh from the audience because it's obviously a 4th wall break. I remember LaPlaca being on a number of sitcoms in the '80s, but I just wanted to fact check to see which 5 cancelled ones she was talking about. According to IMDB, they were: Tom, The Jackie Thomas Show, Stat, Open House, and Duet (which to be fair, lasted 3 seasons). Personally, I love it when shows break the 4th wall, and I appreciate that they let the audience laugh for a long time here because it really was a funny surprise that I think deserved the response it got.

Going back to the general setup of the show, you can tell that the producers or the network is still fiddling with the formula throughout the series. They moved away from the steady references to John Hemingway's recovery in AA, and tried their best to make it more like a "regular" sitcom about the life and work of a particular group of people. This was fine, I guess. But I feel like in doing so, the show lost a little bit of what made it unique. They tried to make Hemingway a normal-ish guy surrounded by a cast of dynamic characters, and he was simply reacting to their shenanigans. But that in some ways stunted the development of John's character, in my opinion.

Speaking of character development, I also felt like the show was probably getting notes from week to week telling the writers to be more appealing to "Middle America." So as a result, the writers did the following: had Hemingway talk less about racism with Dexter; gave Hemingway a steady girlfriend & a more middle class-looking flat; made Carly more "respectable" by giving her the bar at the station to run; had Gene meet someone & get married; and kept the commentary about the cops to mostly punchlines about them specifically (compared to a commentary about police, in general). Most of these changes happen in season 2, but it doesn't stop the show from being funny. However, it does change the humor a bit. I felt like the humor only really starts to falter when they changed the canon bus station hours where we see our cast of characters go from an overnight shift (aka 3rd shift) to a late shift (aka 2nd shift). The change is subtle, but it's there. And it was definitely better when the show had a 3rd shift background. I don't know why, but it just did.

In happier thoughts, I counted guest stars from Night Court coming over and joining Larroquette for an episode on his show at 6. First, there's Bumper Robinson playing a teenage thief/would-be shakedown artist in "Jumping Off the Wagon" (s1e7). Then, we see Marsha Warfield playing Dexter's sister in "Date Night" (s1e22). Next, it was Charles Robinson playing a bookmaker that John mistakes for a bookie (aka someone who places gambling bets). That episode, "John's Lucky Day," (s3e11) was great especially because of the scene in the bar where John has this back and forth with the bartender, who thinks John is this menacing gangster who's going to hurt Charlie's character and he's trying to keep John in his good graces. The bartender is played by popular voice actor Kevin Michael Richardson, someone we rarely get to see onscreen much these days. And of course, we get a guest starring episode featuring Harry Anderson, who played a plastic surgeon trying to convince John to get a lot of unnecessary work done. That episode, "Cosmetic Perjury," (s3e14) also gives a nice little shout-out to Markie Post in a quick back and forth between the two. And last, but not least, we get to see a small reunion between Dan Fielding and Phil Sanders with the guest appearance of William Utay in the episode "Independence Day" (s3e20).

Oh, and I shouldn't forget the small role that John's youngest son, Ben, plays in "An Odd Cup of Tea," (s3e7). It must've been trippy to play your dad's much, much younger brother on your dad's own TV show. Although, they do get to argue with each other and tell each other to shut up like brothers yelling at each other often do, so maybe it was a bit cathartic.

If I had to pick my favorite episodes of all 4 seasons, I would say it would be the following, in no particular order: "Grit" (s1e21), "The Book of Rachel" (s2e8), and "Rachel Redux" (s2e21). I can't say exactly why those episodes are my favorites. But I can say those 3 episodes made me either laugh so hard I had to rewind to hear the dialogue I missed while I was laughing, or delight at the chemistry JL shared with his main costars in those episodes. "Grit" features Hemingway's relationship with Eggers, and I think they played so well off each other that it makes me sad that Elizabeth Berridge doesn't get more work. She's just absolutely hilarious throughout the entire episode. As a matter of fact, I would say that she and Darryl "Chill" Mitchell probably had the most chemistry with Larroquette when it came to comedy on the show. And Mayim Bialik as Hemingway's daughter was just pitch perfect in terms of chemistry. They worked really well together, and I'm glad we got to see her appear on the show 3 times. My favorites were "The Book of Rachel" and "Rachel Redux," but the 3rd episode she's in isn't bad though. Sure, it was a chance to cross-promote with her show on the same network, but these 2 definitely caught lightning in a bottle with their timing and delivery. Who knows? Since Mayim has worked with both John and Melissa Rauch, maybe she'll turn up on the new Night Court. I know I wouldn't mind seeing that.

I have more thoughts on the show, but I'm going to stop here for the sake of everyone's sanity. Thank you for reading if you've gotten this far. Feel free to share your thoughts on the show if you like. I hope to share a few more of mine in the future.

#the john larroquette show #john larroquette #fandom

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