#he’s a better actor than people give him credit for

[airenyah]

i'm probably the only one on here who's extremely excited about summer night lmao

[softguarnere]

Something He Can't Have

Edmund Pevensie x fem!reader

A/N: Not me falling back into one of my oldest hyperfixations after watching the movies this past week for Christmas 🥴 I honestly don't know what to say for myself, other than that I had fun writing this and it may have single-handedly saved me from my recent writing slump. Anyway, hope y'all like this, byeeee ✨💕 Warnings: none

Lucy lets out a groan that sounds so annoyed that it instantly draws Edmund back into the present moment. “Can I ple-ease say something now?” She asks Susan, who sits to her left at the banquet table.

Susan shushes her, but there’s no malice behind it. In fact, when she does allow a disheartened look to grace her face, she directs it toward Edmund. “No. I suppose we shouldn’t meddle.”

They’ve captured his interest. Which is something that seems nearly impossible, considering that he’s spent so much of this banquet staring at Peter and (Y/N) on the dance floor, watching his older brother enjoy dance after dance with her. And trying hard not to take it too personally when (Y/N) throws back her head to laugh every now and then at something that Peter has said. Usually, she only laughs like that at his jokes, and usually only when they’re alone together.

If Peter is making her come undone, allowing her to feel comfortable outside of the carefully crafted polite and diplomatic persona that (Y/N) has created for herself to use in Cair Paravel’s court, then she’s become relaxed with him. And who knows where that will lead?

“What are you talking about?” For good measure, Edmund tosses one last glance at the dance floor before turning his attention to his sisters.

“That!” Lucy exclaims, gesturing between Edmund and the crowd that swirl on the floor before them. “This!”

Edmund raises an eyebrow. “The ball?”

His younger sister groans, burying her head in her hands. “Oh, I give up!”

“Edmund,” Susan says sternly. “I promised myself that I wouldn’t get involved, but this has gone on long enough.” For a split second, the gentle queen loses her composure, though only ever so slightly. “I mean, for God’s sake! It’s downright painful to watch!”

Still confused, Edmund isn’t sure what to say that will clarify whatever his sisters are talking about without further upsetting them. Instead, he settles for biting his lip, glancing between his sisters and the dancing, trying to work out their meaning himself.

Susan sighs, turning to Lucy. “He’s either a better actor than we give him credit for, or he’s downright daft.”

“Help me out here,” Edmund says.

“(Y/N)!” Lucy hisses, leaning across Susan so that she can scold her brother without causing too much unwanted attention. “You’ve been following her around all lovesick for ages now, but you haven’t done anything. And now you’re all jealous watching her dance with Peter.”

“Am not!”

Lucy swats his arm. “You’ve been staring at them all night. If you like her so much, then you better do something before you lose her forever!”

In other situations, Susan might chide the youngest Pevensie sibling, telling her that she’s being a bit overdramatic before offering Edmund some sort of good-natured advice. Edmund looks to her expectantly, only to find her brown eyes full of disappointment; she agrees with Lucy.

“We can all agree that you wear green better than any other, Ed,” she says. “But jealousy is not a shade that suits you.”

“Me? Jealous?! Of who?”

But his sisters only fix him with knowing looks. It makes Edmund want to wither away from existence on the spot. He spent most of their lives before Narnia being jealous of Peter. It’s been hard, but it’s something that he’s worked on since they were crowned. He really thought that he had overcome it. Now, though, his sisters’ words, coupled with the funny feeling in his stomach . . . He feels like a man, trapped, full of guilt, and caught in the middle of something very private. Which innocent people with nothing to hide do not feel in situations like these.

I fancy (Y/N), he realizes, admitting it to himself for the first time. It feels demeaning, somehow, to put a label on the feelings that he’s been harboring in secret for so long. And I’m jealous because she likes Peter more than me, says the next one, which makes him feel even worse.

A warm hand takes hold of his and squeezes. For all the annoyance that Lucy has felt toward him in these past few minutes, she offers him nothing but a kind look and encouraging smile. “You have to do something, Ed.”

“I – “ The words clog in his throat, causing him to swallow thickly, trying to find some of the air which has suddenly become very scarce. As you spin by on the dance floor, Edmund can see how you’re smiling at Peter like he hung the moon, and how his older brother beams at you like you created all the stars. Who wouldn’t want to bask in the sun’s warmth like that? And what sort of evil would dare separate two people who appear to be so . . . so in love. “I can’t.”

“You can,” Susan reassures him. “Trust me, Ed.”

Edmund, however, can’t take his eyes off of you. “I can’t ruin that.”

“You won’t,” Susan says. And if Edmund had his wits about him, he would recognize that she says it with the tone of someone who is very sure of herself because she has access to information that no one else has. (She, after all, is your best friend. But facts like that tend to fall by the wayside in moments of intense anxiety such as this.) “Ed, it’ll be fine. Trust me.”

To unstick the words in his throat, Edmund reaches for his goblet and takes a swig of the drink from inside. If he’s really going to do this, he’ll need all the courage he can get, no matter where it comes from.

As the song ends, he pushes back his chair and begins to make his way around the table. Lucy squeals with delight from behind him, and both his sisters offer nods of encouragement and thumbs up when he turns back to them, unsure.

The next thing that he knows, he’s on the dance floor, maneuvering his way through the crowd to reach you –

He catches sight of you just as you excuse yourself from the dance floor. You disappear into the crowd before he can call out to you, though he reaches out a hand, like he might be able to catch you from afar.

“Edmund!” A well-meaning slap on the back announces Peter’s presence. His older brother throws an arm around his shoulders. He radiates heat after all that dancing. “I wondered when you might join us on the dance floor.”

“I’m not. I’m just looking for (Y/N).”

Peter’s smile doesn’t falter, despite the fact that the next words out of his mouth are devastating news. “I believe that she’s retiring for the night.”

“Oh?”

“She said that she needed some air, that she might go to bed.”

As one of Narnia’s kings, Edmund is inclined to stay present for the majority of this banquet. You, being a courtier, are free to go as you please, seeing as there are no diplomatic negotiations, no fates of any nations, resting on your shoulders. If things were different, he would find a way to go after you.

And he’s actually looking for an excuse to do so when Peter says something that makes him stop.

“I wish she would have stayed,” the High King sighs. “We were having such a good time.”

Edmund nods, hands involuntarily clenching into fists at his sides. His voice feels hollow when he replies, “It looked like you were having a good time.”

“I was thinking – “ A laugh cuts Peter off as he shakes his head, looking half embarrassed, half giddy. “I was actually just about to ask her to be my – my girlfriend.” On the last word, something most unusual happens – the High King blushes. Actually blushes! Who would have known that such a thing was possible?

To say that it catches Edmund off guard would be an understatement. He’s never seen Peter so vulnerable . . . so happy. It makes Edmund’s mouth go dry. He and Peter have had their differences throughout their lives, but he can’t just ruin his older brother’s chance at happiness.

“Oh.” Is all that Edmund can think to say. He hesitates for a moment before asking, “What do you think she’ll say?”

Peter laughs, breathlessly, happily. “Well, I’m hoping that she’ll say yes, of course. In fact – “ He glances in the direction that you disappeared in. “ – I would go talk to her now, if not for my responsibilities.”

“Go,” Edmund finds himself saying. He can feel Peter’s look of surprise mirrored on his own face. But if Peter is going to do this, if this is all really happening, he’d honestly rather get it over with. “I’ll cover for you here.”

Now it’s Peter who hesitates. After a moment, his face breaks into a wide smile. He claps Edmund on the shoulder. “You’re a good man, Ed.”

I wish I were better, the Just King thinks as he watches his older brother chase after the girl that they both love.  

From the banquet table, Lucy and Susan are giving him confused looks. Edmund only shrugs, then quietly rejoins them. He doesn’t speak, doesn’t want to explain what’s just happened. He recedes into himself, letting the party whirl by without him.

If only he were paying attention – then he would see the knowing look on Susan’s face.

. . .

It’s late when the banquet ends, and later still when Edmund slips into the library. He’s exhausted, but his mind is racing and won’t let him sleep. You and Peter had disappeared from the banquet hours ago. That’s plenty of time for his brother to have confessed to you and for you to have accepted. Dread fills him at the thought of the two of you happily announcing your new relationship the next morning at breakfast. He’ll have to face the two of you sometime, to muscle through his own pain and begin navigating a world where he has to accept that you’re in love with his older brother. But tonight, he can be amongst his books, which are a comfort.

He's so distracted that he doesn’t immediately notice you sitting by the fireplace, an open book on your lap, but a distracted look on your face as you watch the flames dance before you.

“Oh,” you both exclaim at the same time when you notice each other. The synchronicity makes you both laugh.

“I didn’t mean to frighten you,” he apologizes.

“I didn’t mean to take your hiding spot,” you say in turn. You shut your book, but Edmund holds out a hand to stop you.

“You don’t have to leave on my account.”

You squint, studying him for a second, before nodding and settling back into the cushions behind you. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Carefully, Edmund takes a seat opposite you, gazing into the fire to gather his nerve. He didn’t expect to find you here. Didn’t expect to find you looking so . . . distracted and lonely as you stare into the fire, your book forgotten. He really shouldn’t pry. But you’re his friend, first and foremost, and he doesn’t want that to change. “Is everything alright?”

Delicate fingers pinch the bridge of your nose. You sigh, collecting yourself before looking up at him through the firelight.

“Peter asked me to be his girlfriend,” you confess. Though the library is quiet, your voice is dull, hard to hear. You do not look as joyful as he imagined you would when delivering this news.

“Oh,” Edmund offers. He fumbles for words. You look upset, so he can’t congratulate you. But then again, he’s not sure if he should console you.

You stare at him for a moment, studying him just as intently as he’s studying you. “I said no,” you finally explain.

“Oh,” Edmund says again, for lack of anything better to say. “I’m . . . sorry?” Except that he’s really not. He feels quite relieved, if he’s being honest with himself.

Your brows furrow. He’s said the wrong thing, but he’s not sure where he went wrong.

“I said no,” you repeat. “Because I have feelings for someone else.”

Edmund’s heart, only on the mend for a split second, plummets. “Oh. I see.”

“No you don’t,” you scoff. “Edmund, you’re the one I have feelings for! Have you really not noticed by now?”

The words echo through the still library. They hang between you for a moment. A glorious, albeit confusing, moment where Edmund can do nothing but stare at you, unsure if he’s heard you correctly. Narnia is a magical place, but there’s no way that you could have said the very thing that he would do anything to hear.

“You do?” His voice comes so quietly that when you don’t immediately reply, he worries that maybe he hasn’t spoken at all.

“Yes. And for quite some time, I might add.”

“But – “ Images of the night swirl in his mind. You had danced with Peter for ages, looking so happy. Everyone likes Peter. They always have. And much, much more than they like Edmund. To say that you have feelings for him . . . “Why?”

You blink, taken aback. “What do you mean?”

“I mean . . . Everyone likes Peter. He always gets what he wants.”

Even in the dim glow of the firelight, he can see your gaze soften.

“Oh, Edmund.” You leave your seat, coming closer to him. He rises, meeting you halfway, so that the two of you are standing together in front of the fire. Gently, you take his hand, intwining your fingers. Your hand is warm in his. You squeeze, and on instinct, he squeezes back. “That’s not true.”

“What’s not?”

“People like you, too. I like you.” Your grip tightens on his hand. “And Peter doesn’t always get what he wants. I know something he can’t have.”

“What’s that?”

A smile tugs at your lips when you gaze up at him and say, “He can’t have this.”

[jenchan-writingmultis]

This was for the best, right? (Vil x Fem Reader)

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Genre: Heavy angst/ No comfort

Pairing: Vil x Fem Reader & One-sided Rook x Fem Reader

A/n: Hi! So do you guys recall the idea I had with Vil x Reader angst? So this is it! If you want to know about it first, I’ll link it (here) I hope you like this one, I gave my best effort on this, hopefully, it fits Vil, I love him so much.

Credits: The design was made by me in Canva and the art that was used is all from the Official Twisted Wonderland Cards. The line breakers are from Kaomoji dividers!

Warning: This is ANGST NO COMFORT! Panic Attacks on Vil’s side, Breakups no reconciliation, misunderstanding and Insecure Vil, relapses of Trauma on Vil’s side, talking bad about Reader’s appearance, although vague it still is there.

!PROCEED WITH CAUTION! Masterlist

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Sypnosis: Your face got leaked throughout social media when you went to have a date with your boyfriend Vil. It made him hate his reputation; he would understand if people bashed him instead, after all, he wouldn't let those words affect him, he's more worried about you, you're not used to the media watching you, having you be seen with him by paparazzi. He kept thinking of ending things with you to protect you from the backlash. ⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

He is usually unbothered by the fact that he gains hate often, he plays villainous roles, having to only reach till halfway or even before the story’s conclusion. It was normal for people to threaten him just because his character did something horrible to the main character. At least he is aware of how well he performed in acting by how despised he was. However, what he wasn’t prepared for was you being the one gaining hate. 

People are hypocrites, they cuss him out and throw the worst insults they could think of towards him, and at the same time, they view him as a perfect human who deserves someone “better for him”. He didn’t expect that his selfishness would get in the way of his relationship with you just because he wants one normal date outside of school but when one of his paparazzi caught a picture of him with you out on a simple date in Pyroxene. The picture showed your face fully without any filters, those uncouth journalists milking his fame with their horrendous illegal articles; anything to gain a higher footing in their industry than anyone else.

When he found out about the article, you two were cuddling in Pomefiore in his bedroom. He had a separate, massive bedroom since he was the housewarden, watching the film that he was recently cast in. As usual, he was given the role of a villain, it was the same old same old, except this time, the villain won, and it was satisfying to see him reach the end. He didn’t tell you though, so while you lay your head on his shoulder, watching; complimenting his looks and joking about how you’d date him even if he was that crazy.

He loves your little antics, you’re the only one who had an odd mind falling for the roles he has. “You have a peculiar taste for characters sweetheart” He wrapped his arm around your shoulder, pulling you closer while you giggled. 

“Funny how I’m dating you” You cuddled closer to him, what you said earned you a playful glare. He was about to tickle you as punishment, but his phone suddenly vibrated, showing the name of his manager, he went to kiss your forehead before he untangled himself off you; “Give me a second, I’ll take this call real quick” he informed you which you gave a nod, letting him out of the bedroom and to his bathroom. 

"What is it?"He examined himself in the mirror, fixing his hair while his manager spoke, "Vil, check what I sent you, it's a link." Vil glanced at his phone and clicked on the article, wondering what it was, he waited for a bit, and as soon as it finished loading his heart drops.

“Famous actor Vil Schoenheit caught dating!” It was a stupid title, but he didn’t give any thought about It, fearing for the worst he scrolled further, finding your face unblurred on it. “What is the meaning of this?” he frowned, gripping his phone before his manager answered. 

“I’m not sure how they found out about the café you and your lover frequent but I’m trying to track down the owner of the article and threaten them with a lawsuit, but with how the media eats up everything, I’m afraid the damage has been done” Vil could hear rustling from the other end his manager taking out which he thinks is paperwork, most likely about the process of lawsuit, he was growing restless as he looked at how many comments and likes did the article gain. He didn’t even notice that his Magicam was being blown up by “fans” questioning him for his taste, and criticizing you. 

He was starting to feel chills around his body when he continued to investigate the whole thing, Vil was close to having a panic attack, gripping the edge of the sink. He tried to calm himself down, remembering what his father taught him. 

“Deep breath in, deep breath out” he recalled, causing him to loosen his grip a bit and relax. A knock on his door snapped him out of his thoughts when he faintly hears you from outside. 

“Vil? Are you okay? You’re taking a while there” you asked which he straightened himself up, composing himself before looking at his phone, who still had his manager on call. “I’ll have you deal with this; I need to go.” He walked to the door opening it after his manager agreed and ended the call.

“Sorry, it was just a minor nuisance at work” He smiled at you, he was a good actor but when it comes to you sometimes, he can’t seem to lie. “Are you sure? You sounded pretty agitated when I went to check on you” You touched his hand, entangling your fingers with his, which made him sigh. 

“it’s…” he hesitated for a moment; does he tell you? He can’t drag you into all of this, he was planning to have it stay hidden till the article was gone, but at the same time, you’re bound to know about it once your friends find out and question you about it.

“Can we talk?” He finally caved in, gazing at you with a mixture of worry in his eyes; how could you say no to that? 

When you found out about the article, Vil was worried that you’d be upset at him, not once did your expression change when he was explaining it. He didn’t expect you to smile and kiss his cheek, telling him that “it’s okay, the media will die down on it, at least if they found out, they won’t bat an eye if we go on dates more publicly, right?” you told him.

He was amazed with how well you handled the news; what about the possibility of receiving backlash? No, actually you both were receiving backlash already. “You’ll have to stop using social media for a while and deactivate it just to be safe” he warned you, looking at you for any signs of distress, he was concerned that you were just hiding it, you’re not someone who’s made to handle the eyes of strangers, he thinks you might not even understand what it means to have your face be doxed by media. 

"Darling," he said, enveloping you in his embrace, which you gladly returned. He said, "Listen, this is the media we're talking about," stepping back to look directly into your eyes. You'll be receiving insults left and right, and I worry that if your friends choose to drop you because of our reputation, it will negatively impact you. I'm capable of managing myself and safeguarding you from the public eye, but what if this also concerns your friends?" he knew that the possibility of your close friends dropping you for something trivial like this was unlikely to happen but there’s still a possibility. 

“If they drop me for something so stupid, I guess they don’t deserve to be my friend,” you said firmly, “Vil, I don’t mind this," You replied firmly, "but it seems like you’re bothered by it” You pointed out, touching his face, it was true, he is bothered by it, he’s scared of the outcome, he’s afraid that every day when you go out in public, people will try to hurt you or coerce you into doing something you don’t like.

“Once the article is down, it’ll fizzle out” You comforted him, noticing that his breathing started getting a bit ragged. Was it really going to stop once that article was taken down? There might be people who saved that article and reposted it. 

In the next few days, you two would often just stay within school grounds, Night Raven College is big enough for you two to roam around and have your usual dates; Despite his frequent work schedule and dormitory maintenance, he still made time to have meals with you. During those times, everyone seemed to keep testing his patience, when he was on set, his unprofessional coworkers kept festering him about you, and when outside, he felt restricted, not being able to walk freely without eyes catching him, so he was advised by his manager to use his car to go back to school and work. He kept his social media muted as well; he couldn’t scroll around Magicam cause every article in those past few days has been nothing but hatred towards you.

“That woman looks so average, what the hell did Vil see in her?”

“Honestly, I would even accept if he’s gay for Neige, whenever those two are together they look so cute!”

“She looks like an extra://” 

Comment after comment of users trashing your looks, your whole being even without knowing you.

It angers him, so for the sake of his mental health and yours, he made sure that you also kept your social media muted, although often, he saw you scrolling on it, reading the comments, or just chatting with your friends. 

He doesn’t understand why you do it, it frustrates him a bit when you do, but he couldn’t tell you to just delete social media entirely, he’s not toxic.  

During lunchtime, he was late to meet you, rushing through the cafeteria, he found you with Deuce and Ace, chatting away. He was going to greet you till he heard what Ace said.

“Hey, aren’t you gonna stop this act?” he munched on his egg sandwich while Deuce looked at Ace like he had just grown a second head. 

“What the hell are you talking about Ace” Deuce said before Ace glared back at him. “I mean! Being unbothered by whatever nonsense Magicam’s got on. You have your face everywhere and people are talking smack about it!” He pointed out in which, Vil couldn’t even see what your expression was right now. "If I were you, I’d confront him about why his agency hasn't gotten to the bottom of this." Deuce wanted to hit Ace that time, but it was true, both your friends were confused as to why it continued to circulate. 

“You don’t have to listen to Ace” Deuce paused, not knowing where this could possibly lead to what he meant. “It’s okay, I understand the concern.” You voiced out, placing the fork down, fiddling with your fingers, “It does affect me, but It’s not Vil’s fault that It got way out of hand.” 

Vil frowned, hearing that, so it did affect you, why didn’t you tell him? Was it because of his incompetence? He thought about how many times you told him that it was okay, that you didn’t mind it. He knew that the article was stupid, but the evidence was evidence to journalists, and that caused you to be in the middle of the crossfire between him and his “fans”. 

Was it worth sacrificing your peace dating him? He smiled bitterly to himself, how stupid of him to have these kinds of thoughts. He looked at his phone, he was going to send you a message that he was in the cafeteria but decided to go against it. 

“I don’t think I can make it. You can go eat.” He sent the message before leaving the cafeteria and going back to the dormitory, he needed some time for himself. 

When he reached his living quarters, he sat down on his bed, noticing the way the curtains were covering any light coming inside. It was like the state of his mind currently, he didn’t feel like doing his daily routine today, which is funny, if he didn’t push himself to keep a perfect image, he would be nothing but average; but if he did look average, would that give both of you the pleasure of living a normal life? 

He scoffed to himself, he can’t just throw his career away, he needs it for your future; both your futures, he stood up, grabbing all the necessary cream, face powder, and other stuff for his face, but the moment he saw himself, looking tired, he stiffened up. Will there be a future where the two of you would be together?

Vil didn’t realize that he started to avoid you. His bedroom was inaccessible, you would knock on his door, but he wouldn’t confront you. Staying silent and just waiting till the knocking subsided and you were out. 

He still showed up to needed House warden meetings, or event planning, he did his duties as usual, he just didn’t do his duties being your boyfriend. 

It was as if his insecurities when he was younger were relapsing whenever he thought of talking with you, was it okay to talk to you right now? He still thinks it’s not the right timing. He isn’t his usual self right now and he doesn’t want to risk doing anything bad. 

However, it breaks his heart to see the sorrow in your eyes when you meet him and to see him neglect you. He was aware that the distance between you and his unwillingness to communicate about the situation was making your relationship unstable. 

After three days of no contact, he was on top of Pomefiore’s garden, he missed you dearly, he gazed down to see his dormmates having tea under the recently renovated garden, then he noticed someone familiar within the garden, focusing his eyes on it, it was you! You looked… happy? 

That was the smile that you usually only reserve for him, what’s going on? Vil thought to himself, confused as he ripped his eyes off you, only to notice Rook Hunt, touching you the way you would with a lover, giving you a gaze he never saw from Rook, but he knew what that was.

Rook liked you, both of them did, but he decided to step down in favor of letting Vil court you. He knew that feelings would never fade that easily but he didn't expect to see this sight. You two looked so perfect for each other, his hand touching yours as if you were having the time of your life, even without him. He clawed the railing of the balcony, not feeling his fingernails scrape the paint off of it, his eyes blurring as he walked away, fearing that he might fall if he ever passed out. His heartbeats were the only sound he could hear, aside from the static his ears were hearing. 

“Breathe.” 

He fell back into his bedroom, feeling his whole body shiver as he grips on his arm, numb to the pain that his nails were digging into his flesh. Cold sweat trickled down his face, he didn’t know if he was even breathing or not, his brain foggy, like an impending doom was going to happen if he once tried to “breathe.”

Vil ended up passing out, and unfortunately, the moment he woke up, it was already 5 am, he jolted awake, standing up, hearing a continuous knock from his door, He flinched as his head throbbed, touching it gently to try to ease his headache, he moved to the door, opening it, not expecting to see the person he least wants to see.

“Roi de Poison” Rook greets him, smiling brightly at him, Irritating. “I noticed you haven’t gotten up and gone to work yet, did you take a sick leave?” Rook continued, his voice filled with worry, he was about to fix the hair covering Vil’s face when he got his hand slapped away, startling him, he noticed the way Vil’s eyes darkened a bit.

“I’m fine” Vil affirmed, groaning a bit, he pinched the bridge of his nose as another headache hit his head again. “I’ll get ready, for the meantime, please take care of the dorm in my absence” He continued, replying curtly as he slammed the door shut before Rook could even say anything, He was sure that Rook would do as he says, if he didn’t, he’ll find a new vice housewarden. 

Vil was already late for work, his disheveled look was barely noticeable but his manager noticed the slight imperfection in it. She walked up to him, fixing the sleeves of his outfit. “You’re late Mr. Schoenheit” She buttoned the sleeves, waiting for a response from Vil, who just sighed, “I apologize, something came up, can we start?”

You were getting worried, Rook went to your dorm, telling you about the state of Vil and that he was worse for wear, you decided that this time, you were going to visit and you were going to talk to him even if he didn't want to. It’s been dragging on for too long—the avoidance of your lover and the media is hurting you. You need to do something before your relationship reaches a breaking point.

When you arrived at the modeling agency where Vil works, you were graciously allowed in. You were familiar to those at the agency; some supported you, while others did not. However, the only support you needed was Vil's.

The moment you stepped inside the photoshoot, you saw Vil, working with another model, he looked gorgeous as always, although it seemed that he was tired; it was unusual for him to be in a state where it was obvious.

The manager noticed you before she ushered you further in, just to get nearer where Vil could see you, and Vil froze, stopping the shooting when he saw your face. 

“I’m going to take a break,” he said to the crew members, seeing you, his gaze remained unfazed, “Let’s talk on the lounge” he murmured, walking past you.

You didn’t know what else to do but follow him, understanding that Vil wasn’t feeling well. The moment the two of you were alone, he went to give you apple juice, the one that Epel’s family sells, you give a gentle smile to him, but he didn’t reciprocate. It made your heart ache. 

“What do you need?” he asked, sitting down on the opposite side of you. Reluctant to look at him, you fixed your gaze on the apple juice. “Are you feeling alright?” you asked, which made Vil chuckle, “That’s a funny question Y/n” 

“I just wanted to know, You’ve been avoiding me for a while and-“You were cut off by Vil who placed the half-empty apple juice on the table. “I just needed some time to think, plus we agreed to lay low” He answered, which frustrated you “Vil, I heard from Rook that you turned up late during work" you were feeling nervous, and for the first time, your lover made you uneasy. "that never happened before,” you said, wanting to touch his hand, but he pulled it away, his eyes showing a trace of betrayal.

“What?” he asked, heart breaking as he looked at you, “Rook told you?”

“Of course he did, he’s a close friend of yours!” you protested, feeling a sense of desperation when Vil kept rejecting you, for the past few weeks, or months? You don’t know, but it’s been so long since you two last saw each other and stared at each other for more than just a glance, now you’re on the receiving end of his glare?

“You…” Vil murmured, before he finally let his body relax, his expression turning soft. “I think we should break things off.”

“What?” you gasped, gripping on the apple juice a little bit too hard, “Vil- “

“Why?” 

Why? Vil wanted to answer why, there were plenty of reasons why, you two were just way too different, and the fact that if he pursued this relationship further, it’d hurt both of you more. It was clear that Rook liked you and you liked Rook, what is there to continue this relationship? Plus, the media will continue to see you as inferior, this will continue for a lifetime, and no matter what he can’t see why and how your relationship with him will continue without it getting toxic. He finally understood that he is way too much for you, his feelings would slowly wrap you around vines that contain poison, HIS poison. He was thinking of the future, and he can’t see it going beyond the challenges you two face. 

He eventually responded, "I lost interest, I’m sorry, we both should focus on our careers first” He lied, not looking at you as well, you both were too hurt to even gaze at each other. You didn’t move or talk, so he decided to stand up, fixing his attire and looking cold. “I’ll be leaving now, hopefully, we can put this all behind us, I’ll have a taxi be ready to get you home when you’re ready.” he said, his heart aching, he wanted to hold you, but he stopped himself, “Just talk to the manager when you plan to leave” he continued, turning around before leaving the lounge.  

The moment you left, the manager went up to him excitedly, he didn’t feel like celebrating at all when he found out that they tracked down who the journalist is and are now filing a lawsuit against them; at least on a positive note, you were out of the picture, out of the prying eyes of the media. 

This was for the best, he thought to himself, feeling numb while he felt his chest tighten when he went back to work.

Word Count: 3418

[vintagetvstars]

Claude Rains Vs. William Hopper

Propaganda

Claude Rains - (Alfred Hitchcock Presents, Wagon Train, Rawhide) - "The reason I got into Old Hollywood and started studying theatre and film! He's such a little cutie as well as a smoking hot, velvet voiced morsel of evil - he's that good and can play both so easily!..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

William Hopper - (Perry Mason) - "Why do I love him? The list abounds..." text propaganda continued below the cut.

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Additional propaganda below the cut

Claude Rains:

While he might be more famous for his movie roles(like Casablanca, The Invisible Man, Lawrence of Arabia, Now, Voyager, and Mr. Skeffington to name a few!), he was also a television star in his own right! He had lots of guest spots on various shows but in the tv-realm, he's probably the most well known for his work for "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" and was a frequent collaborator with Hitch himself, having the spotlight for five episodes! My favorite tv performance of his was playing Father Amion in the episode "The Horseplayer", where he plays the kindest priest who gets taken for a ride and it's so heartbreaking to see him in tears where he confesses that it's his fault the church's funds were used for less than better means (but it all works out in the end!). It's such an honest performance and it's a refreshing change from all his evil villians (but we love them anyway!) he'd done in the past. Another favorite performance of mine is his performance as Leonard Eldridge in the episode "The Door Without a Key", a seemingly amnesiac old man who makes a bond with a lost boy in a police station. They're adorable together and I found myself tearing up a little when they both confess how lonely they are in the world.

William Hopper -

William Hopper was a tall guy (6'3"!) but such a gentle sweetheart. He was in acting for the majority of his life (barring serving as a frogman in WWII and working as a car salesman post-war for a few years), but he really stepped into his own with his role as Private Detective Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV Series from 1957-1966. William Hopper actually didn't really love the Hollywood scene, mostly because he grew up with it since he was a child. His mother was Hedda Hopper and she really wanted him to be an actor and became quite overbearing about it, but he was more of an introverted soul. He first started out in films in his early 20s, but William Hopper always felt like people were giving him jobs because of his mother's influence with her gossip column. HOWEVER, after the war and after William Hopper sold cars for a few years, he came back to acting but he said he was only going to come back if 1) he did it his way/gave himself to it and 2) his mother stayed out of his career so he could make it on his own. Those two things happened, and William Hopper made his own way.

His big major starring role in a television series was, without a doubt, Perry Mason. He was Private Detective Paul Drake. To take on that role, William Hopper personally went out and made friends with Private Detectives to try to bring their experiences to his role. William Hopper also was credited by Alan Alda for showing the acting world how to shine as an actor without demanding the spotlight all the time. Alda said: “William Hopper’s ability to be present in a scene without demanding the spotlight is an art form in itself. He showed us that one can shine without the blinding glare.” Which, I think, really was a big testament to William Hopper playing a private detective--- he was always commanding the series and making the moves and observations that led to finding the guilty person in a criminal case, but he was always doing so in a way that was true to the work of a private detective: hiding and working in plain sight.

Other fun facts about William Hopper that make him so lovable: he LOVED the beach and loved fishing and swimming. When he wasn't filming for Perry Mason (they would film 6 days a week for 1 episode during filming), William Hopper would go to the beach. According to an interview, William Hopper's personal wardrobe was mostly casual clothes: swim trunks, sandals, and sweatshirts. He took all his formal wear to the Perry Mason set and just kept it there to wear when he played Paul Drake. He said if he ever had to go to a formal occasion, he would just go drive to the Perry Mason set and pick out one of his outfits. But the formal wear he had was bold! He wore houndstooth jackets, various checked patterns, and herringbone. If he wasn't at the beach, he loved to go to baseball games. In school, he played sports: swimming, baseball, boxing, and basketball.

he's the guy on the far left - I know his face is hard to see here but I'm going for the Hot Vintage Man bare shoulders vibe:

I spoke before about how William Hopper made a lasting impact as an actor portraying Paul Drake and shining without demanding the spotlight, but he also made a lasting contribution to Paul Drake's character. Paul Drake was a character based on Erle Stanley Gardner's books, which were published between 1933-1973. When William Hopper got the role as Paul Drake in the Perry Mason TV show from 1957-1966, Gardner was still writing the books. When asked about playing Paul Drake, William Hopper said: "If they thought they were getting Paul Drake, they were mistaken. Because what they got was me, nobody else. I play him my way. Now I'm amused to read Gardner's new books. Paul Drake comes out like me."

He made such a lasting impression on Paul’s character on TV that even the author of the books started writing Paul like William Hopper's interpretation!

There's also an anecdote from the wardrobe supervisor on the set of Perry Mason who said William Hopper was a very kind man, a good guy, and a good actor. William Hopper's cast mate, Raymond Burr, once said that "William Hopper was even more precise, more good looking, more fun" in real life than what we, the viewers, got to see him on screen.

To add some more to Raymond Burr's point that William Hopper was "fun", he liked to play practical jokes with his castmates on Perry Mason. In an interview, William Hopper said "You might say there's never a serious moment except on camera." He and all his castmates on the set loved to play jokes with each other to make each other laugh. So he was just a fun guy to be around, apparently!

Also, in the final season of Perry Mason, William Hopper cut a tendon on his foot while filming and he wound up in a cast. They had to rewrite the final episodes so that William Hopper didn't have to do a lot of running around like he usually does. Well, in all those final episodes, you wouldn't even tell that William Hopper was in a cast and having to move around in crutches. And I realize that yeah, they rewrote the scripts to help, but William Hopper doesn't waiver once and doesn't let on about his injury. Plus, according to an interview, the cast attached a little horn to William Hopper's crutches and William Hopper would honk the horn when he was coming to let his cast mates know he was there. Which I just kind of think is sweet.

idk I feel like his hands are pretty beautiful here:

Also, I talked before about William Hopper struggling a bit in finding his own way in acting. It wasn't really until he got into TV shows and with Perry Mason that he felt like he found his place and enjoying acting. Before, William talked about being nervous in front of the camera, but it was working on a LIVE TV show with Claire Trevor when he said, "I was so scared I canceled. I swore I'd never act again as long as I lived. Then I thought, what the heck, they can't shoot me, and walked on the set. Something happened then. It was as if someone had surgically removed the nerves."

And when he talks about his role as Paul Drake, he said, "I'm very fond of him, and as long as Perry Mason is around on television defending various and sundry clients, Paul and I will be very happy to be around helping him."

So he really came into his own as Paul Drake, which I really love about William Hopper. To know he found his way and made something he felt proud of.

Also in terms of William Hopper being physically attractive, I mean, he was so incredible. He once said he was just a guy with premature grey hair and a non throbbing actor, but I personally think he's a heart throb. He had the most loveable smile, broad shoulders, a deep, sultry voice, amazing chest hair (lol), and like.. really absurdly beautiful hands?!? He was also really tall and strong but also by every account he was really gentle and sweet. Larger than life. Sometimes in the Perry Mason shows, William Hopper would swim and he has an incredible swim scene that rivals Mr. Darcy. He's in swim trunks and wins a swim race and comes dripping out of the pool to make anyone swoon. I just love him!

[vodika-vibes]

can I get fives with movie marathon? preferably fluffy thank you!!!!!!!

Home Is Often A Person

Summary: Normally, when you’re planning your dates with Fives, you pull out all of the stops. Good food, dancing, good alcohol. But today you’re trying something different, a sleepover movie marathon. You just hope that Fives enjoys it too.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x GN!Reader

Word Count: 810

Warnings: None

A/N: Alright, so I wrote this with a f!reader in mind, but I don't think I actually used any gender-defining language for the reader. Anyway! Thanks for the request and I hope you like it!

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“I have to admit, babe,” Fives says cheerfully as he drags your mattress from your bedroom and drops it on the floor in front of your holo, and then vanishes back into your bedroom to grab pillows and blankets, “This is a first for me.” He finishes as he tosses the bedding onto the mattress and then drops on the mattress himself.

“To which bit?” You ask, allowing him to get himself settled on the mattress before joining him in the nest of blankets and pillows. 

He considers you for a moment, “All of it.” Fives finally decides with a decisive nod, “I don’t think sharing a barracks with my brothers counts as a sleepover, and I know I’ve never had a movie marathon before.”

“Well, I’m happy to give you new experiences.” You reply with a grin as you nudge him gently.

He catches you and tugs you so you’re both toppled over on the mattress, with you sprawled across his chest, “You give me the best experiences.” 

Honestly, you’d think it was a line if you didn’t know that Fives is just that type of man.

“Well, I do try.” You agree as you shift your weight slightly so you’re able to ghost your lips against his.

Fives accepts your affections for several minutes, his arms tight around you, even as he relaxes under your touch. Your handsome man is so touch-starved, that he almost melts whenever you touch him. Lucky for him, you’re a very physically affectionate person.

“So,” He asks after several long moments, “What’s the plan?”

You blink at him, uncomprehendingly, for a moment. And then you press your face against his chest. You got so distracted with kissing and touching him, that you forgot what tonight’s plan was.

Luckily for you, Fives is smarter than most people give him credit for.

“Well, I’m going to order a pizza and some cheesy bread from this hole-in-the-wall pizza place nearby, and then we’re going to watch—” You roll off of him and blindly reach for the box that the movies had come in, and you press it into his hand, “Lord of the Rings! The trilogy! The extended edition.”

Fives takes the case and eyes the actor on the front, and then he glances at you, “And how long are these movies?”

“...Oh, we’ll easily be here well until tomorrow night.”

“Super.”

For a moment, you’re worried that Fives doesn’t like the plan. It’s a lot simpler than most of the dates you’ve planned before. But your worries vanish the moment he turns his wide grin on you.

“Well then, I better message Rex and tell him I won’t be in tomorrow.”

“Really?”

It’s his turn to look surprised, “Yeah, of course. Why? Did you think I wouldn’t like it?”

“Uh, well…it’s not as elaborate as some of our dates, and I know you like those.”

Fives reaches out and cups your cheek, “Hey,”

You lift your gaze to meet his and want to melt at the look he’s directing at you.

“I like those dates because I’m there with you.” Fives says, his gaze serious, “The places we go and the things we do…none of it matters to me. All that matters is that you are there with me.”

You press your hand over his and rub your cheek against his rough palm, “Are you telling me that I was stressing myself out about those intricate dates, and you would have been perfectly content with a picnic and some sandwiches?”

“Babe, we could go to a salvage yard and I’d still have the best time because you’re with me.” He pauses for a moment, his thumb rubbing against your cheek, “Were you really stressing about dating me?”

“Wanted to impress you.” You mutter, sheepishly.

He laughs, his head falling back on your pastel pink pillow, and, still shaking with laughter, he tugs you back onto his chest. Fives’ eyes are dancing with mirth and his grin is wide, “I’ve always been impressed with you, you don’t have to go out of your way.”

“Well, I know that now—”

He takes your hand in his and then presses it over his steadily beating heart. “This is all for you,” Fives says, his voice soft and warm, “Every beat of my heart, every breath I take, it’s all for you. It’ll only ever be for you.”

You groan and press your face back against his chest, “You’re such a sap.”

“I’m a romantic, babe.” Fives counters smugly, “Love is a battlefield and I’m going to win.”

You lift your head and grin at him, trying not to laugh, “Well, I’ll be rooting for you.”“For us, babe. Us!” He tugs you up into a kiss, quick and almost chaste, “Now, order us some food while I start the movie. My brothers are going to be so jealous—”

@imabeautifulbutterfly

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[thephoenixandthecrocodile]

Adar the All Father

I’m still mourning the death of Adar, our All Father, maybe the most beautiful character in Rings of Power so far.

When we first meet Adar, we are introduced not to a dark lord or powerful general. We are introduced to a grieving father who loves his children. When we lose Adar, we lose not a dark lord or general. We lose a grieving father who would have risked everything to protect his children – even sacrifice them to escape enslavement.

Before Rings of Power, I never thought I would cry at the loss of an Uruk or even consider the tragic nature of the Uruk race. Even now, after watching the first two seasons of Rings of Power it is hard for me to think of Adar and the Uruks as villains. Yes, they did terrible things to the Southlanders and attacking Eregion wasn’t great, but they were not the actions of villains. They were the actions of a desperate father and his children who wanted to find a safe home. One of the greatest tragedies of season 2 (and maybe all of Middle-Earth in the Rings of Power universe) is that the Elves would never seriously work alongside Adar in destroying Sauron. For most Elves, Adar and the Uruks were synonymous with Sauron and Morgoth and Adar knew better than to expect any kindness from them (despite reaching to Arondir, Galadriel, and Elrond during both seasons).

Joseph Mawle, the actor who played Adar in season one, must receive the most credit for creating the Adar we know and love. Mawle created the mystique, the internal pain, the despairing love for his children, the hopeless desire for peace, and the unwanted, but familiar ruthlessness to achieve his goals. When we first meet Adar, we learn first about his love for his children, his bittersweet memories of his Elven life, and his unstoppable commitment to provide his children with a home. His conversation with Arondir is soft and sad and mesmerizing, intriguing us all with this strange introduction of one of the first Uruks. He is not the mindless, cruel animal we are used to. This father of the Uruks knows love, knows sacrifice, and knows how to yearn for peace.

His children trust him unquestionably because he gives them a vision and the hope for a future where they can live and exist without fear or pain. He tells them they are loved and deserve life as much as any other race. They are not animals destined for extermination. They are people and they will claim a homeland for themselves, damn all who dare stand in their way.

Mawle’s Adar gives his Uruks a dignity that was missing from any of the previous LOTR related adaptions and is one of the reasons he became a fan favorite. One of Tolkien’s core tenets in LOTRs is the power of mercy and pity and giving people the choice to do the right thing, even when previously they’ve only caused harm and pain. We want Adar and his children to find a home. We want Adar and his children to escape Sauron’s clutches. But we also don’t want the Southlanders to lose their home.

The battle between the Southlanders and the Uruks is supposed to serve as proof that Adar is still a servant of Morgoth. He does not plan to share this land with anyone. He does not approve the Southlanders with any sort of deal or compromise. He invites and he kills and he decimates the land so only Uruks can call it home. Many of our heroes are caught in his rampage and are endangered or wounded by his actions. Yet, is the destruction of the Southlands the act of a villain or it is more of a Magneto-esque act of liberation based on the knowledge that no one would ever willingly accept Adar and his children? Adar does not attempt the peaceful methods because no one ever used peaceful methods with Uruks. It is a lost cause because of the prejudices and racism of Middle-Earth. Why should he care for those who would kill his children as first sight? Mawle’s Adar is not interested in justifying his actions. Instead, he turns the mirror on the heroes of our story and reveals they are just as violent and bloodthirsty as Morgoth, especially our main heroine Galadriel. Is she someone he can find a compromise with? Is Waldreg, who really wants to serve Sauron, Adar’s prime enemy? The Elven commanders of the Watch?

No, there is no one willing to treat with Uruks and so the Uruks will do what they do best and claim the land that has been overrun by their enemies.

               Mawle’s Adar suffered under Morgoth and it is a pain he cares for the rest of his life. Unlike most characters who have undergone extreme torture, the pain is represented by a scar or “flashbacks”, but Mawle’s Adar walks as if his entire body is in pain all the time. His movements are stiff and calculated, as if every movement sets his nerves on fire. He bears himself with the angry pride of someone who has never been welcomed anywhere, but he is worth as much respect as the High King in Lindon damn it!

               Finally Mawle’s Adar is queer because he subverts many expectations one would have from a male character, whether he be a hero or a villain. He is soft spoken, gentle with his prisoners, loving with his children, and cries when they die. His acceptance of his Urukness when all others think it’s wrong. His demand for a place for his children when all others think they are disgusting animals. His refusal to accept definitions placed upon him and his children by others. His celebration in what others deem to be macabre or disgusting. He also has chemistry with every character he interacts with (no matter their gender)

               In season 2, Adar is played by Sam Hazeldine who does a fantastic job add layers of complication to Adar’s character while still referencing the core components defined by Mawle. The first episode of season two starts with Sauron (played by Jack Lowden) selling himself as Morgoth’s successor to a gathering of Uruks. Adar is there and it’s clear Sauron thinks Adar is on his side. However, Adar betrays Sauron and he and his children “kill” Sauron. In this episode, we see the same pain, the same weariness, and the same love for his children that Mawle portrayed, but we also see Hazeldine’s addition of deep-seated rage for Sauron, rage over his own fate now that Morgoth is gone.

               When we see Adar in the present, he is sitting on his throne, with his big sword, surrounded by Uruks, and he is powerful. His presence has changed from the almost elemental spirit like quality Mawle personified to a stronger, more present, more dangerous presence. It’s almost as if now that he has achieved his goal of a homeland, he is on edge, waiting for it to be taken away. This Adar is still in constant pain, still queer as hell, but more determined and leans into his old role as a ruthless general/warrior.

               When he finds out Sauron is alive, we see Adar response to a severe trauma trigger that clouds all thoughts of peace and compassion. Similar to Galadriel’s reaction to Sauron in the finale, Adar cannot live in a world where Sauron still exists. He is not safe. He has too much anger to ignore. He has scores to settle. He has children to protect. He cannot wait in Mordor for Sauron to play everyone else for fools. He knows Sauron will come for him and his children. It is better to hit him now when he is weakest. And so he gathers his children and his marches to war once more – despite the misgivings and doubts of a handful of Uruks.

               Once Adar discovers Sauron has made Eregion his home, Adar writes off the entire city and its people. Similar to the fate of the Southlanders, Adar doesn’t care what happens to those who stand between him and his goal. He will destroy the tormenter of his children, even if he has to destroy the most beautiful city of all Elvendom. When he reunites with Galadriel, we see that Adar can be as manipulative and cruel as Sauron. He plays her like a fiddle to get all the information he needs and then he uses her to trap Elrond into his own morality conundrum. While he is still gentle and charming when dealing with both Galadriel and Elrond (flirting with both of them the entire time. Seriously, he calls Elrond beautiful and stares at Galadriel with heart eyes as she threatens him as knife point), they are just tools to use against his real enemy Sauron. His drive to destroy Sauron taints even his love for his children. He sends them wave after wave against Eregion’s defenses, watching them die in the hundreds and sends in Damrod, a troll who kills just anyone and anything in his way – Uruk and Elf alike.

               In one of the most heartbreaking moments in the show, after a particularly costly charge, Glug, one of his children, says “Father, you said you love us.”

               Adar turns and replies, “With all that is left of my heart. Too much to let you be slaves to Sauron.”                In his moment of fear and trauma and pain, he can only see the extremes: either his children are enslaved by Sauron or they die but are at least free from Sauron’s control. He cries as he says goodbye to the dead and dying Uruk, forced to face the terrible price they must pay to be safe. Galadriel sees his tears and, maybe, in that moment she understands who her true enemy is: Sauron, not the victims of Sauron and Morgoth’s cruelty.

Sam’s Adar is the battered spouse who desperately tried to escape their abusive partner and instead learns that the world doesn’t care about the plight of the abused. The world will cast you back to your abuser because “that’s where you belong.”

               In the finale, Adar, wearing Neya, Galadriel’s ring, reverts to the man he was before Morgoth. An Elf with a “meaningless name. A name given to him” Adar is the name he earned and one he wants to keep. Nenya, whose power in the show is to heal and provide visions, gives Adar the first true hint of hope he has had since before Morgoth. He realizes his rage and his trauma turned him into Sauron’s puppet, as Sauron intended, and he realizes he’s lost the trust of his children, but even in the midst of all that darkness there is still hope. Nenya represents hope. Galadriel, who tells Adar that if he helps her defeat Sauron, there will be a place for his children, represents hope. Even though she admits she has killed more of his children than any Elf alive, he forgives her.

               “I forgive you. No more flames. No more darkness.” He tells her as he hands her the ring, “Let us heal Middle-earth and create a lasting peace between the Elves and the Uruks.”

After handing her the ring, he reverts to his true form, Adar the Father of the Uruks.

A wounded Glug is brought to him and he bends down, begging his son for forgiveness. Glug tells it’s too late and Adar replies, “It’s never too late. Not even for me. And not for you, my son.”

And Glug stabs him, followed by several other Uruks. Sauron appears and watches with smug satisfaction as Adar is killed by his own beloved children. Even in death, Adar is only considered about his children, calling out to them in Black Speech, but it’s not enough. He may have found peace within himself and with Galadriel, but he couldn’t undo his betrayal of his own children.

In anger and trauma of his own, Glug saw his father as an enemy, as the wolf in sheep’s clothing, as someone who claimed to be different but was just as ruthless and terrible as Morgoth. In Sauron, he found someone who was kind and made grand promises and was the original creators of the Uruks. And so, Glug took his chance and doomed his entire race to enslavement.

Adar and the dream of a free Uruk race may have died in the finale, but Adar lives on in our hearts and as an inspiration for everyone struggling with their own darkness, their own strangeness, and a society that does not want them or respect them. I hope he also continues to live on in the hearts of the Uruk. They may, by and large be enslaved by Sauron, but I hope we see just how tenuous Sauron’s hold truly is. I hope we see small Uruk rebellions and whispered stories of Adar and Glug and their dreams of peace. I believe in the book, the Uruks complain about their lot and hate the fact that they have to answer to the Nine Wraith as well as Sauron. Maybe Sauron needed the Nine to keep order amongst the ranks of a disgruntled mass of Uruks who stubbornly preserve the memory and hope of a better world – someday. And maybe that is just one more dream Sauron tries to twist and corrupt to suit his own purposes, which is why the Uruks never truly break away from him. But I hope we see that internal struggle through the remaining seasons. And I hope, we as a fandom, can imagine a Middle-Earth after Sauron’s fall, where Aragorn, Eomer, and their descendants learn from the mistakes of the past and finally see the Uruks as Morgoth’s and Sauron’s victims and Adar’s children can finally know peace.

Thank you Joseph Mawle, Same Hazeldine, JD Payne, and Patrick McKay for brings such a beautiful and inspiring character to life.

[pinazee]

And down the stretch comes murder

I wanted to take this moment to highlight the adorable child actors they got- Liam James and Carlos McCullers II. They are so perfectly cast as Shawn and Gus and they do such an amazing job! Im so impressed by them 👏👏

The whole spitball incident really highlights the differences between Shawn and Gus’ ethics. Shawn feels guilty for thinking he got the wrong spitter and ruined Jimmys life while Gus actually did it and feels no remorse at all. Perhaps it’s because Jimmy tortured Gus more, but it’s also come up a few other times i believe, that Gus is not above revenge nor is always willing to do the right thing if it interferes with his safety or his own code of justice, whereas with Shawn it’s like he can’t rest until he’s made things right. This, in addition to the ways he looks out for people (helping Lassie solve a case without him knowing, helping juliet find some kids without getting paid, standing between Gus and a gun), I think is why i tend to be more drawn to Shawn. I love tender-hearted morally just characters. Im not saying he’s always riding the high horse (pun intended), simply that at the end of the day you know he’s going to do the right thing. Don’t get me wrong, i love a morally ambiguous character too, and if I’m honest Gus’s outlook is certainly more realistic, but if i had to pick a favorite, i want the reliably good and wholesome over the self-serving. Not that im saying Gus is selfish at all, but of the two Shawns more our hero, even compared to his own cop father. I think Juliet is the only one who comes closest to matching that above and beyond heroism. I think the only reason she’s a step below is because Shawn simply notices others more. Thats all. If Juliet had Shawns abilities she’d be just as on top of it as him, probably more so. Actually she might get overwhelmed by seeing it all and not being able to help everyone. I think it’d be really hard for her to ignore sometimes. Which, okay I’m going down a tangent, but do you think Shawn had to learn to shut it off sometimes or like, learn to walk away? Cause i imagine day to day Shawn’s seeing people dealing with grief, abuse, or pain and with as kind as he is, it must be hard for him to ignore. Like if you’ve ever seen Daredevil, I’m imagining a less dramatic version of that haha

Henry will take any opportunity to point out Shawns failings or try to make him feel less than. Shawn tells him he’s there for a case and instead of asking him about it, Henry goes right back into you never could be a good handicapper because you lack the patience and follow-through it takes to put the time in and research. Also, the line “i let him talk to me” just doesn’t sit right with me even if the guy did turn out to be a skeeve. This kind of stuff makes me think Shawn either learned how to respect people from his mother or refused to treat people like his father. Probably both, though i hate to give her credit for anything haha

Look at his smile when he sees Lassie feed the horse. He’s so warmly amused by him. I wasn’t a Shassie shipper originally (as i just didn’t ship ppl in ye olden days) but i think I am now. I see it guys, I get it haha

These scenes are what makes the episode for me! I love them! We get to see both Shawns interacting and how he utilizes his vast memory, taking a peak into his mind palace so to speak. Plus he literally answered that common question of if you could go back in time what would you tell your younger self? (“Think big!”) I know they never really intended for this to be like a deep scene (nor expected certain fans to overanalyze it haha) but i like how he approaches the kid version of himself with a certain degree of amusement. Like I imagine if i was seeing my young self I’d probably be rolling my eyes at my sheer stupidity, but Shawns a lot kinder to himself haha Also little Shawns line “I thought I’d be bald by 20” was fucking gold! I wish I had better words for why this works so well but all i have is that it does and its brilliant.

Nice try Psych, your Canada is showing ;)

Heres some completely irrelevant info. The difference between a dreamcicle and a creamcicle: both are orange flavored, but dreamsicles had an ice milk center while a creamsicle was ice cream. And dreamsicles are no longer made.

I like this addition to the background. Its so cute. (Sidenote: this screenshot makes it seem like Shawn is the babyfaced assassin)

P.S This is the second episode ive seen him hold this frog. That is all.

[colorful-white-ideas]

I'm really scared cause Nosferatu is getting hates now because of Bill, people say he's not a leading man and his movies are all bombs at the box office. They also say his career is over cause of The Crow and that's why till now we didn't get any update of him being involved in anything cause noone wants to work with him. They say Nosferatu is gonna be the next box office bomb remake cause Bill destroys anything he's in. Some said Bill's filmography is awful and he has to chage his agent and his team, even some people said he's a nepo baby and his dad helps him to get roles.

I want to cry. Pls send help 😭😭😭😭😭

My best answer to that is they all can go to FUCK THEMSELVES.

And I say this not as a Bill fan but as someone who likes good movies , he is a good damn actor. People who hate the new crow movie and criticize Bill are only whining about his look , they don't say anything else besides that so blinded by hate , they dont see how good his body language was , the control of his eyes , the good voice control he had for the emotional scenes... Just for example the scene where he finally puts the make up on . It's so powerful how he transmits the self hate , pain and agony for what he has become.

The box office issue is not because people decided not to go to see it , those die hard crow fans are giving themselves too much credit. Their fandom is minuscule. It was the terrible lack of promotion from Lionsgate that caused this. That company played dirty to BKW and did the bare minimum for The Crow , the amount of comments I've seen of people saying they didn't know the movie was out ... Is frankly upsetting.

It didn't reach all the cinemas either , and as with BKW , they are withdrawing the movie from small cinemas after the first weekend. The marketing around these movies was horrible. Promoting The Crow as a remake was the first nail in the coffin and it took them TOO DAMN LONG RELEASE THE PROMOTIONAL INTERVIEWS.

Lastly what is wrong with all the movies he participated in ? They all look good to me. The best of all ( for me) was The devil all the time and people SLEPT on him , his work there was 10 times better than Pattinson. ( Sorry not sorry)

His career will do more than fine. Locked will be shown in the TiFF in September, Nosferatu in December ( we are like 4 months away, almost nothing)

Haters can suck a dick and shut up for once.

I won't even say sorry for being this aggressive. All the hate The Crow 2024 is getting , out of pocket, got me in my last nerve. Fuck them all.

[storm-angel989]

Outside The Office Part Eleven

Several hours and at least one full video shoot later, I stood between Valentino and Velvette in the elevator as we descended towards Vox’s studio. Valentino had called her up to fix the mess that was my face as soon as he ensured I was physically and emotionally ready to go back out into the studio with him.  

To her credit, Velvette took the destruction of her hard work in stride, dabbing a different concoction of creams and powders on my face. The ibuprofen from the morning had long since worn off, and every inch of my body was back to aching. On the bright side, it hurt less than this earlier in the day, or even last night. Even Velvette commented that the remainder of the blues had turned green, and most of the greens turned yellow, causing her to use a whole different set of makeup. 

“You nervous, babe?” Velvette asked, arms crossed as we headed down. She tilted her head to one side and studied me. 

I shrugged, biting back the nerves that simmered inside my chest. “I mean. My father used to throw me in front of angry reporters and speak when he was too busy, or didn’t care to do it himself. So, how much worse could this be?”

Valentino set his jaw and Velvette scowled. I could have swore I heard her say fucked up angels, but I couldn’t be sure. The door opened and Valentino paused, kissing the top of my head so as to not mess with my makeup. 

“See you tonight, Princessa. Have fun.” He stepped back into the elevator and the door closed. 

I turned to Velvette, and followed her across the studio to Vox’s office. 

“I know my way around Vel, I don’t need an escort. You can go do whatever you need to do.” I told her. 

“This is what I need to do. Your makeup needs to be adjusted based on the lighting, so for the next hour you’re stuck with me.” She pushed open the door to Vox’s main control room and strode in as if she owned the entire studio. “Vox! We’re here!” 

From the center of the control room, Vox spun around in his chair to face us. He grinned when he saw her, his smile literally lighting up the room. “Ah, Velvette. How are you on this hellish morning? Or is it afternoon?” He pulled her to him and planted a kiss on her cheek. 

Velvette rolled her eyes but I saw the pink rise in her cheeks. She definitely wasn’t one to show too much emotion, but when you’re in love…I guess your body has a way of showing it, regardless of what your brain thinks. 

“Cut the shit Vox. She’s here, on time. Ready to go. So…let’s go.” She tapped her foot impatiently. 

“Oh my little…” Vox began. 

She pressed her finger to his lips, effectively cutting him off. “Not here. Not now. Let’s go. There is work to be done!” 

Vox rolled his eyes but looked at me. He picked up his laptop and full coffee mug. “Alright, guess we better get going. Come, come. Follow me.” 

He led us over to what was clearly a broadcast set. Two comfortable looking chairs took up the space, one tucked neatly behind a desk and the other next to it, just off to the side.The careful arrangement to capture only the best view of both occupants was obvious. I looked up and saw the multitude of cameras pointed, capturing every angle of the occupants of the chairs. The nervous feeling buzzed as it settled in my chest. This was much, much more different than the wooden podiums I was used to.

Vox led us behind the stage, pushing open a door. The room behind it was large, with multiple chair and mirror sets lined neatly against the side wall. At the moment, there were no actors or actresses skittering around, frantically trying to get dressed. The room seemed almost too empty with just the three of us. 

“Hey, most people don���t give a shit who sees them naked. But I brought in a divider so you have privacy.” He nodded towards the corner. “But there shouldn’t be anyone in here anyway. I scheduled all my programming earlier this morning.”

“Alright, enough chatter. Or if you need to chatter, at least sit in the chair while I fix that mess of hair,” Velvettle ordered with exasperation. 

I took a seat and she set to work. Vox sat in the empty chair next to us, typing away on his laptop.

“So, how is this going to go down? Can you give me a run through?” I asked as Velvette shuffled around me. 

“Simple really. I host the most popular morning show in the seven rings of hell. You’ll walk out, sit in the guest seat and answer the questions I ask. Don’t worry about looking at the camera, or messing up. I’ll personally edit everything after to make sure it’s perfect.” Vox answered. 

“Oh, personal edits. You’re so special. Usually he pushes that grunt work off on his employees.” Velvette teased as she ran a hand through my hair, separating the long strands. 

“Yeah well, it’s not every day you out the Princess of Hell to all the universe,” Vox muttered as he took a sip of his coffee. 

I thought back to my conversation with Angel Dust. “Yeah, I have questions about that. Like…why am I the Princess of Hell? Doesn’t Lucifer have kids?” I asked. 

“Oh I wish. Maybe then our next ruler would be more like me and less like my sweet sister.” Lucifer’s voice appeared behind us. “Actually, scratch that. That may not be the best idea.” 

Velvette was the only one who didn’t jump, completely unphased by his presence as she continued her work. Lucifer leaned over, putting both his hands on my shoulders. I looked at the reflection of our faces in the mirror. Under the bright light, I could see some of the semblance between him and I. 

“Heard about your little outburst earlier. Wanted to check in, answer any questions and provide a little guidance on what to say before this all goes down.” He gave Vox a meaningful look. 

Vox simply raised an eyebrow and took another sip of his coffee. “Outburst?” 

Well. It was now or never.  “ What the fuck happened earlier and why am I Princess of Hell and not your kids?” I demanded. 

“Settle down,” Velvette mumbled. “I’m trying to work here.” 

Lucifer laughed. “Simple answer to the second.I don’t have any. And don’t plan on it. You’ve been on the roster as the successor to hell since the day you were born, kiddo.” 

“Well, what if that changes and you have kids? Does the title transfer to them?” 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “I assure you it won’t. But no. I signed the line over to you, your mother and father as my witnesses. Not that you’ll take my place for another twenty or thirty thousand years anyway. Maybe longer if I feel like it. I like my job, and I’m not eager to retire.”

He could have thrown ice cold water over me and that would have shocked less than his words. .“Lucifer, my father knew?”

“Of course. Signature on the title and everything, We all thought it best. I was just content to let the man raise you up living your best life in heaven. Or at least what I thought was happening. If I had known exactly how that man was treating you I would have come and brought you down here with me much, much sooner.” He clasped both of my shoulders and leaned forward.  “Oh well. Nothing we can do about it now.” 

Velvette gave him an irritated look. “Do you mind? You’re in my way and messing up my artwork.”

Lucifer grinned. “Right. Sorry about that.” He let go and took a step back. “Back to your first question. I reviewed the footage Vox sent me and Valentino answered it perfectly. Much like your angelic side, your demonic side gives you certain…abilities. At all levels, demons can manifest and harness energy that surrounds them to use as they please. The more souls they own, the more energy they can harness and the more things they can do with that energy.” He glanced at Vox and Velvette. “You’re sitting next to three of the most powerful beings in hell right now. Neither of them are anywhere close to me, of course. But with the amount of souls they control, the more energy, the more power they can control.”

“So why did I, unintentionally harness and spew uncontrollable energy around Val, but couldn’t fight off the demons a few days ago?” I asked. “Because this newfound ability would have saved me a lot of unnecessary pain.” 

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Simple. Your father taught you to shut down your emotions. To not feel pain, to hold in the anger, frustration, happiness, fear, sadness and the plethora of other emotions that make us who we are. Instead of  acknowledging and expressing emotions, Angels teach themselves to ignore the feelings, push them down deep inside, spouting lies that emotions cloud logic. They claim emotions lead to irrational decisions, when in reality logic and emotion balanced together allow us to control ourselves, and in our case, the energy around us. You cannot ignore how you feel. To do so is a disservice, both to yourself and the world around you. If you want to maintain control, and use the power your demon half blessed you wish, you can’t shut your emotions out.  I promise you, with the right blend of logic and emotion, you will be able to manifest that power and wield it as you desire.”

He paused before continuing.  “The night you were injured, when I saw you as battered as you were, I was ready to kill both Vox and Valentino, and anyone else who got in my way. I stopped not only because you begged, but because as soon as you realized what was going on, you unconsciously began to  harness and radiate that energy, and allowed those emotions to slip ever so slightly out of the wall you’ve so tightly built. It wasn’t much, but it was enough to make me pause.”

I frowned as I tried to remember. “I didn’t feel anything.” 

“Neutral face.” Velvette reminded me, tilting my chin up towards the light. 

“Of course you didn’t, you were barely able to stand. But it was there, however brief it may have been. And now that you know it exists, and how it works you can start to control it, harness it. Feelings and logic, sweetie pie. You’ll get the hang of it.” Lucifer’s phone pinged and he scowled and checked it before shoving it back into his pocket. 

For a couple of moments, the only sound in the studio came from Velvette’s brushes and Vox’s typing. 

“So what now? What do I do after this?” I asked. “And how do I go about mastering that….logic and emotion?” 

“Well, you could start by communicating when you hurt instead of sitting there biting the inside of your cheek every time a makeup brush touches your face,” he said, as if it was obvious. “Acknowledging the emotions and pain you feel would be a great start. As for the other questions…” Lucifer considered for a moment. “Once word gets out about your existence, we will address that. For now I want you to go out there, be the charming, bright little half angel you are, and then stick closer than close to these two.” He gestured to Vox and Velvette, “and the one upstairs. At least until things settle down. Both heaven and hell will be in an uproar over your position.” 

“In the meantime though, we still go about our daily routines. Once you’re okay enough to go back out with us each night that’s exactly what we’re going to do. You can’t hide- that shows weakness. No, you’ll be out there, a shining, lethal star to the public.” Vox added. 

Lucifer nodded and I heard his phone ping again. He cursed softly. “That’s all the time I have. Text me, kiddo if you need anything.” He leaned forward and lightly kissed the top of my head before vanishing. 

Silence among the three of us. 

“I lowkey hate how he can do that.” I said finally. “Vanish in and out like that. Can all demons do it?” 

“Nah. That privilege is exclusively limited to the Morningstar line. You probably could, if you owned enough souls. And of course, mastered the emotions, logic thing. It isn’t that hard, really.” Velvette said. She reached around and patted my hand. “We’ll get you there. Don’t you worry.” 

Nausea washed over me at the very idea of owning a soul. Or maybe it was from the pain. “I have no desire to have ownership over someone else. My natural born abilities should be more than enough.”

“You might find that someday that changes,” Vox said, looking up from his laptop. “Someday when you see a soul that needs help, and you can offer that help- but need her soul to be bound to you and to hell in order to offer that assistance. Sounds sappy, but all of our first contracts fit that general plot. That’s why they all sucked.”

“Truth. I think Valentino is the only one still bound to his first contract. Mine was ripped apart years ago.” Velvette added.

Vox concurred. “Yeah. I got rid of mine too.”

“Then why is Val still bound to his?” I asked.

“The wording. And before you ask, no. You can’t see it. You don’t want to.” Vox responded, looking down at his screen. He cursed quietly under his breath.

“How do I even write a contract? I’m good, but I’m not a lawyer.” I protested. 

Velvette leaned over. “Babe you’re getting ahead of yourself. That’s probably a long way off. But to answer your question- the three of us are experts. We won’t string you up and leave you like we were.” She squeezed my shoulder in another rare show of comfort. “Now shush. Then I need you to get dressed.” 

With makeup and hair finished, we stepped behind the divider Vox had put up. Velvette helped me out of that morning's outfit, slipping me into a pretty long sleeved, v-neck, knee length white dress with a dainty pearl belt. On my legs, I wore pantyhose that concealed all the cuts and bruises. The V necklace remained, and I stepped into pretty white, low heels.

“My goal here is to make you as angelic as possible. So when I dress you up in real clothes for when we go out, people won’t have that image of you. It’ll keep you a little more hidden, for the time being at least,” Velvette explained as she dabbed coverage around my neck and chest, concealing any marks the dress didn’t. 

“Will people be angry?” I asked as she stepped back to study me.  

She was quiet for a moment before she sighed. “Probably. I mean, Lucifer has literally ruled hell with no heir for all of eternity. But honestly, its the angels I’m more worried about. Sure they can’t survive in hell for more than a day, but that doesn’t mean they won’t try to step in and do some cleaning up on their own. Especially when they see you- an abomination in their eyes-  in such a position of power.” She reached up and adjusted a lock of hair. “There. Perfect. Go see Vox and let’s get this done with. I’m starved and I’m sure you are too.” 

I hadn’t noticed until that point, but she was right. Breakfast had been a while ago. Ignoring the grumblings that appeared the moment I gave recognition to my hunger, I followed her back to the chair. Vox stood up when he saw me, grinning at the both of us. 

“Ah. Perfect. Vel, you have outdone yourself once again. Come on Princess, let’s get this over with.” He leaned over and kissed Velvette on the cheek. “We’ll be upstairs in about an hour. Have lunch ready for us?” 

She rolled her eyes and typed quickly on her phone. “Consider it done. I let Val know too.I’m sure he’ll join us.” 

I watched as she pranced off. A different kind of butterfly joined the rumblings in my belly as nerves sank deeper in. 

“Deep breath kid, you’ll be fine. It’s just me.” Vox said, reaching over and giving my hand a gentle squeeze. “Just pretend we’re having breakfast. Here, this is how it's going to go down. I’m going to take my seat and you’ll hear me introduce you. Music will play and that’s your cue to walk across the stage and take your seat. Feel free to smile, wave, whatever. People will like you just for who you are. So be sure to just be yourself.” He gave my hand a final squeeze before walking across the stage, smiling and waving to an invisible audience as music played around him. 

My heart pounded as I listened for him to call my name. Time seemed to slow and after what felt like forever, I heard his voice loud and clear across the stage. 

“You’ve heard the rumors and we at VoxTech are pleased to be the first one to confirm her existence. Please welcome the newest member of the V’s,  Princess Reader Morningstar! That’s right, you heard me folks. Princess Reader Morningstar live in our studio today!”

The music played and I walked across the stage. I definitely felt a bit silly as I smiled and waved at the empty studio, but did my best to let it roll off.  I took my seat on the other side of Vox and caught his eye.

“Good to see you sweetheart, welcome to the stage! So nice to get you out in the open after all these months together!” He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his desk. “Tell me, Princess, how exactly are you related to the big boss himself?”

I continued to smile and crossed my ankles gracefully, folding my hands on my lap. “Well you see, Lucifer is my uncle. My mom was his sister Lilith, who tragically passed at the hands of the angelic military soon not too long after I was born.”

Sad music played behind us and Vox looked grim, taking his elbows off the table as he leaned back in his chair.  “I see. Here in hell we remember that tragic day- a true loss for all demonkind. Tell me, Princess. If Lilith is your mother, who is your father?”

“Who was my father,” I corrected instantly,  “my father was an angel- the former leader of the exorcist division, to be exact.” 

Music swirled behind us. I felt my heart flutter and I wondered if I had said the right thing. Vox didn’t seem to notice, or I didn’t display my concerns. In the moment, I couldn't tell. 

“You heard that right folks. Half angel, half demon, twenty five years in heaven. Tell me honey, how did you end up down here?” He gave me the slightest nod, an encouraging smile. 

I bit back the nervousness as best I could.  “My dad, he knew what I was. Knew what he’d done. He sent me down here right before he was killed.” 

“And who killed him, Princess?” Vox asked, his voice dropping in volume. 

My heart pounded in my chest as I spoke my answer with more confidence than I felt.  “The new leader of the exorcist division. My dad wasn’t the best, but he brokered the deal with heaven that Angels couldn’t simply come down to hell and slaughter demons at will. The culling of demons are- were- controlled by Lucifer. Now that my father is gone, and a new leader has stepped up, I’m not sure how long that deal will hold up.”

Vox leaned forward. “Do you mean to say there could be extermination days? Like there were in the early days of hell?”

I gave the smallest nod. “Unless a similar deal is made between Lucifer and Heaven, I would think that is a very distinct possibility.” 

“Wow. And there you have it folks, out of the mouth of Princess Morningstar herself. Now over to our interview with King Lucifer, coming up after these messages.” 

I heard a snap and Vox beamed at me.  “Good job sweetie, that was excellent!”  He pulled a laptop out from under his desk and began punching the keys. “We’ll play you, and then Lucifer’s interview confirming what you said and volia! We have television.” 

I stared at him in dismay. “Vox, you can’t play that- those were all leading questions. I don’t know if everything I said is true. I was just guessing based on what I know.”

Vox shrugged as he continued to pound on his laptop. “Leading questions written by Lucifer himself. He did tell me you’d connect the dots on camera- I didn’t think it was possible at first, but he was right. Every word you said was directly on point for Lucifer’s script.” He leaned back away from his laptop and stretched. “Honestly I didn’t think we’d get it right in the first shot. You have a natural talent in front of the camera.”

Still uneasy, I took my phone out from the pocket stitched inside the dress, sending him a quick text. Usually so quick to answer, but today he didn’t get back right away.

“He’s probably busy. He does run all of Hell, after all. Come on, let’s go upstairs and get lunch.” Vox suggested standing up as he continued to stretch. “Ah, that was fantastic! I’m so pumped!”  

I ignored his positivity and checked my phone again. No response. Vox put his arm around me and I involuntarily winced at the pressure. He pulled away instantly, a frown replacing his overly cheerful grin. 

“I have medication for you. All you had to do was ask,” he chastised as we walked towards the elevator. 

The exhaustion, the soreness and the overall events of the day caused me to be more snappy than I intended. “It doesn’t matter. I’m not actively dying, so I’m fine.” I replied through gritted teeth. 

He pushed his hand to my forehead as we walked, and pulled away after a moment, brushing the makeup that rubbed off onto his pants. “You’re not warm. Which is good.”

“Right, because I’m fine. Better even than this morning.” I hit the elevator button. “Angels heal quick, and even Vel said my bruises have turned lighter even just in the past few hours.”

“You use the line ‘angels heal quick’ say that like it means something. Doesn’t matter how fast you heal, angels still feel pain.” He stepped inside the elevator and looked at me. “And don’t tell me they don’t, because we both know that’s a lie.”

Was it pity on his face? Annoyance? I couldn’t quite tell. I took the step in, standing next to him as the door closed  in front of us. “I never said angels didn’t feel pain,  I just said I was used to it.”

“Yeah and that’s a problem for all of us. I mean, I’m sure it’s a great asset in battle, and probably great if you’re in a bar fight. But when you’re home, in your safe zone you should be able to freely express when you’re not quite at your best. That’s what Lucifer was saying right?” He chuckled. “Believe me, Velvette is the worst when she’s sick, and she doesn’t hesitate to let us know it. At all. That ability to say how you feel truthfully is just a step into starting to control that emotion, logic balance Lucifer was going on about. It’s tough to maintain, but that’s why the three of us banded together initially. We’re each other's support system. We can tell each other when we’re angry, frustrated, sad, whatever, be it at work, at life, or at each other. Expressing those feelings helps to control them.” 

I could feel my frustration level rise along with the elevator.  I had spent the past twenty five years of my life hiding my feelings, concealing any pain. Did he expect that all of the sudden I would just be able to talk? Be able to say how I felt? Just the thought was enough to make me uncomfortable. 

The door opened and we both stepped out into the flat. I turned to him, the anger inside of me building from the turmoil of the day. 

“You want honesty? I’m sore and I feel like shit. I’m exhausted and would like nothing more than to march back into Valentinos studio and drag him back into our bedroom solely to be cuddled and loved until I absolutely pass out and sleep until I wake up in Val’s arms and then do all of that all over again until it no longer hurts.” I crossed my arms as I let every ounce of frustration show in my voice. They wanted emotion? Fine! They would get emotion! 

A smirk broke out on Vox’s face. “Finally. Let it out. Course it would have been less explosive if you had said something a few hours ago, but it’s a solid start.” 

I felt myself begin to shake from both anger and frustration. Behind me, I felt familiar arms wrap around my waist and pull me back gently. I let out an exhale. Valentino. At his touch, the anger and frustration melted away, replaced with shame. Fuck. Vox didn’t deserve to be yelled at. 

“Is that so, Princessa? I had no idea you had such desires.” Valentino whispered in my ear as my body pressed against his.  “I can make that happen this afternoon if you want it that badly, what do you say mi amor?” 

I felt my cheeks turn red and I looked away. “Val, hi.” I swallowed nervously. “How much of that did you hear?”

“All of it. And I’m so pleased to listen to you verbalize your desires, Princessa. Now I can act on them.” He kissed down my neck softly. “See what happens when you communicate and use your words? Your wish is granted. I can work from home the rest of the day.” He gave me a gentle squeeze and released me. “ But first, mi amor, lunch. Go sit, I’ll bring it to you.” 

I hesitated and turned to Vox. “I’m sorry I shouldn't have….”

Vox held up a hand. “No, no apologies. The whole point of this was for me to literally push you until you broke down and actually acknowledged your anger. Don’t you feel better now? Just like Lucifer talked about.  And you get Val for the rest of the day- I call that a win.” He walked past me and gently tousled my hair. 

A sense of warmness flooded through me and I followed him into the living room. I flopped onto my usual spot on the couch and closed my eyes. Vox was right. I did hurt, I was tired, I was angry about all of it. Not  that yelling at him fixed any of those problems but part of me, somewhere, felt better just having said it, having put into words those feelings that swirled inside of me.

I thought back on what Lucifer had said, taking into account the events of the previous minutes. If it took figuring out how to balance logic and emotions to maintain control over the energy I could now manipulate, undoing years worth of military training was a small price to pay for the control that balance promised me. The more I thought about it, the more I desired that balance- the release and necessity counterparts to emotions and logic. It was the polar opposite of anything and everything I had been taught, but if it meant never losing control like I had earlier in the day, I was willing to give it my best shot. 

After all, Valentino, Vox and Velvette could do it. And if they could do it, I was sure I would be able to as well. 

[missmaywemeetagain]

Broken Glass Chapter 11.1 💔🥂❤️‍🩹

Thank you so much for your patience as I got this up on different platforms due to unforeseen life crap! 💗 Okay, so Chapter 11 got a bit away from me length wise, so for sanity's sake (and so I can make some more revisions to some much-anticipated sexy times 🤭), I am posting part one of the chapter instead of making y'all wait any longer.

Some major, life-altering things went down in Chapter 10 and this chapter from Lori's perspective deals with a bit of the reality and consequences of that. (You can refresh your memory here if you need to!) We jump back in the next morning. She's got A LOT of feels going on in this chapter leading into some more twists and turns in 11.2, so the ending of this might feel a bit abrupt since it will all be part of the same chapter. Sorry!

Also, please excuse my alterations of some of the recording dates a bit to serve the story!

Anyway, as always. I can't wait to hear what you think! 💋

Loves and kisses, Madi xoxoxoxo 💗

TW: So many angsty feels, the Colonel, pregnancy and related symptoms, fear of miscarriage, Elvis and his endless PDA...smut to come in part 2 🤭

Broken Glass Chapter 11.1

“You’re what?!”

You wince at the way Tom Parker spits the words out, his shock and ire so palpable it feels like a slap to the face. The anxiousness skyrocketing through you, paired with the rapid beat of your heart knocking against your ribs, leaves you unable to look at the man, but you know he’s furious.

“We’re getting married. As soon as possible,” Elvis repeats firmly, grabbing your hand and squeezing. It seems unconscious the way he steps slightly in front of you, as if shielding you from the older man’s anger. You appreciate the gesture. No one, save for your mother, has ever protected you.

Elvis sounds so steadfast and sure about all of it. He’s a better actor than people give him credit for, but this performance is going above and beyond anything you’d assumed he was capable of.

Or maybe he means it.

Your heart flips, just the way it did last night when he asked you to marry him.

The last 24 hours have gone and changed everything so quickly that your head is still spinning. The moment when Elvis kneeled on the bathroom floor with you, wiped away your sick, and offered to fix everything, it felt so very real. There wasn’t an ounce of hesitation in his eyes.  

And despite it being an arrangement born out of necessity and not love, it was nothing like Gianni’s horrific proposal.

Your stomach turns at the memory of that nightmare before Parker’s voice cuts through, bringing you back to the task at hand.

“What in God’s name has gotten into you, boy?” The beady-eyed man glares around Elvis’ broad shoulders at you. You resist the urge to shiver under his accusatory gaze. “Did you threaten to go to the press, young lady? Is this about money?”

“Hey, now, Colonel,” Elvis says, deceptively calm, but his voice is low with warning. “It’s not like that at all. And you best mind your tone.”

Parker’s eyes flicker to Elvis with an edge of surprise, taking in Elvis’ protective stance and words in silence. You get the impression Elvis hasn’t stood up to the man before, not like this, anyhow. The crackle of tension in the air has you all on edge.

The older man’s eyes narrow shrewdly, and you worry you won’t be able to pull this off. You’ve observed enough in the last month to understand the influence he has over Elvis, the slight manipulations he wields, pushing Elvis right where he wants him.

Parker looks at you with scrutiny. He takes you in from head to toe. Your breath catches in your throat and you want nothing more than to disappear and pretend the last day was a dream. But you cannot. Forcing yourself to hold his stare, you remind yourself of everything at stake here.  

There is no doubt in your mind he will throw you to the wolves the moment he senses anything amiss, the moment you threaten the image of his star client. So it has to be crystal clear you are here to stay, even though it makes you sick to lie.

But there are much worse things than white lies waiting for you out in the world. And as heartbroken and shocked as you are about this baby, you already know you’ll do anything to protect it.

You aren’t even conscious of the way your hand splays over your stomach, not until Parker’s eyes freeze there. His eyes snap up to yours and then to Elvis.

“Oh, you didn’t,” Parker groans. “Christ, I picked this one specifically because I thought she was smart enough not to fall into bed with you the minute you two were alone. Turns out she’s smarter than I gave her credit for—she managed to ensnare you and ensure she’d always be tied to Elvis Presley,” he spits.

Your cheeks flame hot with the accusation, and you can’t hold back your gasp at his insinuation, even though it shouldn’t be a surprise.

Elvis squeezes your hand tight and points at Parker, his eyes stormy and livid. “Don’t you dare blame her for this! On the train, you made it clear how she needed to improve her ‘attitude’ towards me and I told ya not to worry. Well, I took care of it,” he shrugs flippantly.

You try not to gape at his blasé attitude, wanting to trust Elvis to do what he needs to make this convincing.

“You damn well know I didn’t mean ‘get her pregnant’!” Parker hisses. “And we had this talk when you were just starting out! I know you know better than to—”

“I’m in love with her,” Elvis interrupts with such conviction your stomach swoops and you need to school your face to look like you aren’t amazed by how truthful his statement sounds. The earnestness on his handsome face takes your breath away.

Tom looks sorry for him. “Oh, son, we both know how easily you fall in love. But I don’t think you understand the gravity or responsibility of starting a family. What it’ll do to your image. Girls want you unattached and available, and they’re the ones buying the records."

From anyone else, it might be imbued with caring and concern, but coming from Parker, it is backhanded and insulting with the way he talks down to Elvis, as though he were still a 19-year-old kid instead of a 25-year-old man. But he does it with the finesse of a snake charmer.

You watch Elvis carefully as he recoils a bit, an innocence flashing over his features you’ve only seen in his most vulnerable moments making a quick appearance. For a second, you are terrified he’ll cave and you’ll have to pack your bags and head West after all. Thankfully, he blinks it away, steeling himself with the stubbornness which usually drives you crazy but just might work in your favor today.

“We’re in love. We’re gettin’ married, and that’s all there is to it.” It comes out as a growl and the sound reaches down to your toes.

Parker shakes his head, grasping at anything to control his client. There’s a carefully veiled desperation in his voice which barely conceals the threat he now lobs at Elvis: “This’ll ruin you, boy! What will your father do when the money is gone, hmm? Your cousins? Your friends? That big house you bought your mother? It’ll all be gone.”

Elvis looks as though he’s been slapped. But not you. Life has made you good at reading people, at seeing through men like this. Perhaps it is the fact you are running on adrenaline or because you have so much to lose, but you find yourself furious at Parker for speaking this way to Elvis.

 “And after everything I’ve done to ensure your success, you’d throw it all away for—”

“How?” You barely register you’ve spoken until Parker’s glare lands on you.

Elvis looks down at you with surprise. It wasn’t part of the plan for you to interject; Elvis thought he could handle Parker on his own.

“How exactly will getting married and having a family ‘ruin’ him? Last I checked, you weren’t a young woman. How do you know it won’t help him? His audience is growing up and getting married, so why can’t he?” you say, a fierceness you usually rely on at work slicing through your nervousness.

“Young lady, you best shut your mouth before you get yourself in more trouble than you’re already in,” Parker seethes.

“You don’t talk to her that way!” Elvis yells, stepping in front of her, pointing in the older man’s face.

Parker looks taken aback, and you wonder if Elvis has ever stood up for himself the way he’s standing up for you now.

Your heart beats in double time, but you gently put your hand on Elvis’ arm to bring it down. His eyes are blazing but they catch yours and you breathe in slowly, hoping he follows your lead. Once he doesn’t look like he’s going to launch himself at Parker, you speak.

“I was going to be around for the foreseeable future anyhow, isn’t that right? Perhaps much longer based on what the doctor said,” you say, miraculously keeping the tremble out of your voice. “It is easier—and more proper—to explain a wife being by his side than a long-term girlfriend living in his house, yes?”

Parker scoffs but doesn’t speak.

“And there’s nothing more young ladies like me want more than weddings and babies, even more so when the groom is the most handsome and charismatic man on the planet, one they want the best for. They will look at pictures of us and imagine themselves as me, I’d bet. And the men will be much less threatened by the family man who served his country and might come around, too,” you continue with fervor, surprised at how easy it is to be assertive when it’s Elvis you are fighting for.

“It doesn’t matter if he is married or has a thousand babies, Mr. Parker. As long as Elvis is alive and keeps doing what he was born to do, they will flock to him because he is an incredibly talented, gorgeous, and kind man. My being by his side won’t change that one little bit. In fact, a wedding will be free publicity for his comeback album, I’d imagine.”

A breath wooshes out of you now your speech is finished. Your fists squeeze to hide the tremor in your hands. Silence hangs heavy and you shift uncomfortably on your feet, but you force yourself to hold Parker’s eyes.

At first, he looks at you with something akin to shock, which quickly morphs into a smirk as he throws a cigar in his mouth, considering your words, perhaps. He holds the silence and your gaze much longer than he should, and you know it’s a show of dominance. You’ve seen a similar look on the men in la famiglia when they seek to intimidate.

It equally makes you want to stand your ground and shirk back into the woodwork. You don’t want him to win, but you also know you must play a role here, and a man like him will want any good idea to seem like his own. You lower your eyes in faux deference.

“Well, Elvis, we may be able to salvage this yet,” Parker purrs, gumming the end of the cigar.

Elvis’ eyes haven’t left you since your speech—you know because you feel them boring into you—but it’s not until you look back up at those depthless blues that you see the unabashed way he’s staring.

He looks at you like he’s smitten. Like you are everything he could ever need. And he’s blushing as if bashful about what you said. His movie star gaze pins you to the spot, with his bedroom eyes at half-mast and his full lips falling open like he’s going to say something.

You would love to be able to say it didn’t make your heart flip over and your knees a little weak to be looked at like this by him; in fact, you are going to chalk it up to your hormones because this is all part of the act, you are sure.

It’s almost painful, the way you tear your eyes away from him to look at your shoes. Suddenly you are winded and exhausted.

He’s just a patient. Maybe even a friend after everything you’ve been through together this past month. A better actor than anyone gives him credit for.

Madone, I will not swoon over a man just because he’s good at pretending he loves me.

Elvis may have acted like a spoiled, sullen child the days prior to arriving back at Graceland, but you’d never in your life seen had a man so entirely consumed with your wellbeing once he knew something was wrong with you. No man had ever treated you with such care.

A swell of emotion sits like a lump in your throat when you think about his proposal. What he’s giving up to save you. To save your baby.

And he’s been so earnest it makes it hard to compartmentalize the fact this arrangement is a quid pro quo and not some romantic folly. Your mind knows this, but your heart is having trouble keeping up. It doesn’t help when he is looking at you like you hung the moon. Like you are precious and beautiful. Like you matter.

You clear your throat and look away, feeling the blush spread across your cheeks. Then, a wave of overwhelm threatens to consume you. Everything in your world has been upended in the last 24 hours, and on top of that, you still have a job to do, yet your body is fighting you every step of the way.

Pregnant.

Your stomach lurches, but you swallow the toast you’d managed to eat earlier back down. Now is not a moment to appear weak by losing your breakfast all over the floor.

Parker is sizing up the both of you, chewing on the end of his cigar like a cow chewing on cud. It makes you want to squirm, yet you force yourself to remain still.

Elvis grips your hand reassuringly, sensing your discomfort. “It’s early, so that means we should do this as soon as possible, yeah?” He says it as if asking, as if the two of you hadn’t already decided it. You can’t quite tell if he’s asking for approval or if he’s smart enough to know it will go over better if the old man thinks it’s his decision. Either way, it seems to work.

“Mmm, yes. Though some are already going to assume the reason based on your impatience,” Parker counters, pointing at your belly.

“Let ‘em think what they want. But I want it public. I want everyone to know who I’m spendin’ the rest of my life with,” Elvis says definitively.

Parker looks at him and narrows his eyes. “Are you sure, my boy? It’s quite the gamble.”

“Didn’t get where we are by always playin’ safe, did we, Colonel?” Elvis counters.

“Hmm, I suppose not,” he replies after another long moment of scrutiny, “and I know you like to charge ahead without looking, but if we give them too much at once, they might be too ravenous. And we must control the narrative.”

Parker looks at your hand. “Get her a pretty ring, then go out and about and be seen. Tell your boys, your family, but no one else. Let them start talking.” His mind starts whirring, you can tell by the gleam in his eye. “We’ll sell an exclusive to the highest bidder, with terms to run the story along with the release of the album. We’ll push the release up, but that means you need to get up to Nashville in the next few days and finish cutting the record. With singles, RCA is going to need…” He pauses to do the math. “At least 11 or 12 more songs to have enough. You think you can do that, son? With everything going on?” The challenge is clear, but you are surprised to hear concern in his voice, too. Elvis is an ill man, after all, despite how gallant he is.

Elvis nods. “Yessir, I’ll get it done.” There isn’t a lick of doubt in his words.

You, however, are worried it’ll be too much for him. It’s a lot of pressure for anyone on a good day, but for Elvis, this could be dangerous. He’s already been pushing himself to the limit with his childish behavior in Florida. You want to say as much, but Elvis must know what you are thinking because he shoots you a stern look before you can get the words out of your mouth.

“Well, then, when you get back, we’ll have a small ceremony at Graceland. A church wedding is out of the question. Safety, timing, you understand,” Parker adds, shooting you a look like he’s sorry when you both know he is anything but.

You swallow and nod, but a snake of disappointment runs through you, nevertheless. You’d been raised to expect a Catholic ceremony but realize it wouldn’t be possible anyway. Elvis isn’t Catholic. In fact, you aren’t sure what religion Elvis is. The fact you don’t know sinks in your gut.

There is so much you don’t know about the man you’re about to marry.

But he’s not Gianni, you think. And he’s willing and able to give my baby the life it deserves.

And that is enough. It has got to be. Arranged marriages still happen every day—this is no different. A love match was never in the cards for you anyway. Not with your father and Gianni in the picture.

He may drive you crazy at times, but at least with Elvis, you and the baby will be safe and cared for.

You’ll just have to quell any expectations he will see you as more than his nurse. Or more than one of the many girls just passing through.

I shouldn’t have kissed him last night.

You blush at the memory. It was a moment of weakness, but you’d been so overcome with gratitude, shock and relief, you’d let your emotions get the best of you. It was too revealing, too vulnerable, considering your roller coaster of emotions recently regarding him.

It hadn’t helped he’d kissed you back with such commitment. Like he truly wanted you.

It scared you. But you’d backed away instantly after accepting his proposal, convincing yourself the look in his eyes was nothing more than friendly and then busied yourself with putting your clothes back into his—your—closet. Then you’d used your very real exhaustion as an excuse to go right to bed after that, ignoring the gnawing feeling of want in your heart.

Elvis would never love a woman like you. A woman who’s been chewed up and spit out by horrible men, a far cry from the actress and model beauties he is used to. He is a good man, helping a woman in need out of the kindness of his heart, out of a need of his own self-preservation, but you best keep reminding yourself that pity and helpfulness is not love.  

Lest you get too caught up in the fairytale you are spinning for the world, you remind yourself that once things settle down, arrangements will need to be made for him to get his other needs met.

It wouldn’t be the first or last time a powerful, famous man had dalliances, after all. They would just need to be discreet.

The thought makes your heart ache and tears prick at the back of your eyes, though you instantly try to push away the uncomfortable feeling. You don’t have time or energy to waste on such nonsense.

It takes a moment to realize the men have stopped talking and are looking at you as though waiting for a response.

“I’m sorry, what?” you say, shaking off your thoughts.

“I asked if you had any family or girlfriends that could assist you in preparations? You’ll need to get a dress and have any family travel in to be here after you get back from Nashville,” Parker says with a raised brow.

Your heart sinks. “Oh, no. There’s no one,” you say, trying not to sound as full of regret as you feel. The few friends from nursing school you had weren’t close enough to stand with you, and while you’d love to have your brothers come, there is no way to do so without alerting your father. And you feel absolutely sick at the idea of him being anywhere near you or Elvis.

Elvis looks at you with surprise. You hadn’t told him directly about the issues with Pop, but you assume he at least expected you to have friends. It’s pathetic, to be sure, but this was the reason you’d agreed to work for him in the first place. You are alone in the world.

Swallowing thickly, you hold your head high, even so.

Elvis, thankfully, takes your cue. “I’m sure Patsy would love to help,” he says with a gentle smile, pulling you into his side, his hand resting high on your waist. His double first cousin had been kind to you in the interactions you’ve had, so you suppose she will do.

You nod in response, hyperaware of the warmth of his hand radiating through your dress. It steadies you, tingling the skin beneath, and his closeness is a welcome anchor in this uncharted territory.

“Well, then, by this time next week, you’ll be newlyweds. I trust you’ll be able to continue to take care of Elvis despite your condition, Miss Cannava?” Parker asks under a veil of concern, but the accusation is palpable.

“I have no intention of shirking my duties, Mr. Parker. I want Elvis to be as healthy as possible.”

“Please, call me Colonel,” he says, an edge in his tone that lets you know your refusal to call him Colonel annoys him. But as much as you want to rub it in, you know you need him on your side.

“Of course, Colonel,” you respond, forcing a smile on your face. “And know I’ll continue to do whatever it takes to help Elvis keep doing what he wants to do.”

“I hope that’s true, young lady,” Parker says, “for everyone’s sake.”

You swallow down the threat, adding to your already churning stomach.

*

April 3rd, 1960

Nashville, TN

“Ready, Elvis?” the engineer up in the booth buzzes in over the com.

“Yeah,” he replies, shooting you a cheeky smile and a waggle of his eyebrows as he steps up to the mic.

You roll your eyes back at him, trying not to show just how much you are appreciating his presence. The secrets you two now share have matured him. You can’t help but worry about the dark circles rimming his eyes, though it is a bit unfair how it somehow only enhances his handsomeness.

Even so, he has been remarkably steadied and attentive these past few days, considering everything going on.

It is a godsend for you. Your nerves are fraying at the edges and more than ever, you want a cigarette, but you know Elvis won’t have it. Considering what he’s doing for you and this baby, you are happy to oblige him on this, despite your cravings.

With everything you’ve gone through in your life, you pride yourself on moving through adversity—for surviving as best you can—without falling apart. But since you returned from Florida, all bets have been off.

Along with putting on the performance of a lifetime in hiding your pregnancy, you’ve also needed to play the gleeful fiancée—a role that hardly feels natural for you, even if your relationship wasn’t a farce. A thousand other girls would be beside themselves to take your place, but for you it’s different. It’s like the ground is constantly moving underneath your feet and you are holding on for dear life, trying to stay upright.

It doesn’t help that your feelings for Elvis are rapidly slipping out of your control. While his poor behavior in Florida tempered them by the time you arrived back in Tennessee, his gallant actions since then, coupled with your exhaustion, have blurred the lines completely. Every touch, every knowing glance, every concerned look sends a cascade of tingles through your body.

You want to blame the pregnancy, you really do, but you aren’t sure you can at this point. Each sliver of attention and affection from him is peeling away the armor you’ve got around your heart, and you don’t have the mental or physical energy to keep rebuilding it.

It’s a recipe for getting your heart broken.

Your fingers twist nervously, still unused to the engagement ring now on your left hand. After telling him about Gianni’s gaudy monstrosity, you’d begged Elvis to keep it simple; he’d reminded you he has a standard to uphold. The compromise was a stunning ring with three large, round stones—a diamond in the middle, with blue sapphires on either side, surrounded by smaller baguette and single cut diamonds in a white gold setting.

You wanted to hate it, solely for its extravagance, but when he had shown you the piece ahead of the “surprise” proposal you both had planned for after dinner last night, you couldn’t drudge up an ounce of dislike. He’d looked so concerned about pleasing you, telling you over and over he could take it back if you didn’t like it, but frankly, it was one of the most beautiful pieces of jewelry you’d ever laid eyes on. It was elegant and sparkling, and the uniqueness of the sapphires set it apart. It didn’t take much acting to “ooh” and “ahh” when he’d gently placed it on your finger in front of his friends and family, cementing the reality of this strange situation. A flock of butterflies had erupted in your stomach as though he really had proposed, like the proud but blushing smile on his face was really because of his love for you and not an act.

Your ring catches your eye for the millionth time today and the sapphires suddenly remind you of Elvis’ eyes. How deep and endless they seem. There is no stopping the flipping of your heart.

Oh, Madone, it’s just a ring, you chide yourself. But it doesn’t stop you from twisting it around your finger again and again like a touchstone.

After a bit of back and forth, a heavy bass line and rhythmic snapping starts, jerking your attention to Elvis. The stripped-down jazzy sound is immediately recognizable—a Peggy Lee hit from a few years ago. Your brow quirks in surprise.

The slow grin spreading across Elvis’ face is sinful as he sinks into the music.

He wanted you in the studio from the start this time around, citing you as his “good luck charm.” Part of you balked at that. The other part was flattered. After the last two times you’d watched him come alive while performing, something deep inside you awakens right alongside the beat, scaring you in its intensity.

Never know how much I love you, never know how much I care…

He starts singing. It’s quiet and deceptively relaxed, but you know him well enough now to understand he’s a live wire under it all. And that makes it even more enticing when he locks his eyes on yours, singing the words directly to you.

You give me fever…

His voice skitters across your skin, lighting fires as it goes. After the beat drops, his limbs shiver with the drums and the movement feels directly connected to the shiver running down your spine.

And he’s just warming up.

Every line, coupled with the sultry timbre of his voice, drowns you further into the depths of his eyes. They don’t let you go for the entirety of the first take. Your face is flaming, your hands gripping the edge of your seat because it feels like he’s about to eat you alive.

Madre di Dio…you’d let him. Willingly.

He wakes out of the spell he’s seemingly cast partway through the second take. You watch him whistle and blink a few times, coming back to himself. He’s slightly more unsure through the third, but regains his original focus by the fourth, sliding into the take like he’s been singing the song his whole life.

You can’t help but feel this is an intimate moment you shouldn’t be privy to, when he homes in on you once again. You are barely breathing the entire last take, a throbbing pulse consuming your heart along with your belly, something liquid and warm heating the core of you.

When he grits out: When her daddy tried to kill him, she said ‘Daddy, oh don’t you dare’, you hold back a gasp, wanting desperately to squirm in your seat to relieve some of the pressure in your body you don’t have any idea what to do with.

Perhaps it is because the line hits so close to your own experience, but it is as if he’s channeling you. Or channeling into you. You aren’t sure anymore, other that you are combusting from the inside out by the end of the song.

What a lovely way to burn… he repeats again and again, and trails off, finally.

Indeed.

He comes out of his near-trancelike state, bringing you with him and you are suddenly not at all sure you’ll make it through the next few days of recording.

How did you forget what happened last time you were in this room with him? With everything that had happened since, you suppose it’s not that outlandish, but those feelings of want, of need, seep back into your bloodstream just like the last time he sang to you in Miami, and here in this very room just a few weeks ago.

Seems like a lifetime ago…

Forcing yourself to breathe, you think maybe you’ll have a reprieve with the next song, but the bluesy Like a Baby is so sultry it does absolutely nothing to quell the fire in your veins. It doesn’t help he looks positively proud of himself every time he drinks you in, gauging your reaction, with every word he sings to you.

The seductive quality of it all is so overwhelming you need to excuse yourself to the restroom the moment the final take is cut. You clutch your trembling hands, splashing cool water across your rosy cheeks.

Get it together, Lori. He’s just doing his job.

Letting out a shuddering breath, you feel an unusual slickness between your thighs that sends your heartrate skyrocketing.

Oh, God—the baby.

Frantically, you hoist your skirt, pull down your stockings, and examine your underwear for any sign of blood. Panic slices through you until you discover you aren’t bleeding or miscarrying—it’s only a clear, slick discharge you’ve not had before. Something hormonal, no doubt, due to the changes in your body.

Then you realize you are relieved.

Your heart stutters.

You’re not sure you should be relieved. If this pregnancy ended naturally, it would save all of you a heap of trouble. It would mean you might be able to put the memory of Gianni’s cruelty behind you. It would mean Elvis wouldn’t have to settle for you. You could break off the engagement easily enough at this point.

But the thought of losing the baby, of losing Elvis, makes your heart ache so much tears spring to your eyes.

Oh, no. Oh, no, no, no.

You can’t want to actually marry Elvis. You barely know him. God knows you don’t feel ready to start a family, especially out of such horrid circumstances.

Then why does the idea of losing it all break your heart?

Sniffling, you look in the mirror and hold back the tears starting to well in your eyes.

It’s just hormones. Your body is just protecting itself and the baby, nothing more, you say in your calm and collected nurse voice. Nothing more.

Because anything more means perhaps your feelings for Elvis have truly gone beyond what you can handle right now.

Scrunching your eyes shut, you pray to understand the purpose of any of this. Why Elvis feels more like home than anywhere else, despite his sometimes infuriating nature. Why he has to be so alluring and charismatic.

Why the thought of being without him is untenable at this point, and not just because of Gianni or the baby.

It’s just a crush—a silly little crush.

No.

He’s all I have, you realize.

Of course, you feel connected to him. Right now, he is consuming your life and drawing out a safe future for the both of you. He is the only one truly in your corner. You may not know him completely, but he has not deserted you or thrown you back to your father. He is deep in this with you.

He could’ve easily fired and discarded you and been right to do so.

But for some reason, he did not.

A shuttering breath makes your chest heave. You can’t bring yourself to examine why that might be and you push away the thing you are most loathe to admit. The thing that makes pretending with him so very difficult, yet so sweet at the same time.

Shaking your head, you wipe your eyes, and straighten your spine. You powder your nose and reapply your lipstick. You put yourself back together, locking up the feelings you are trying so hard to fight.

Looking in the mirror, you see a young woman ready to do what she needs to do to survive.

Ignoring the headache brewing behind your eyes, you paste on a cordial smile and venture back to the studio. The light is on because they are recording, so you sit outside until it flashes off. You stand, brush off your skirt, and reach for the doorknob but it whips open before you can grasp it.

Gasping, your heart leaps in surprise as Elvis fills the doorway, looking a tad frantic.

“Little Bird, are you okay?” he asks, brow furrowed. He grasps your shoulders gently, taking you in as though you might be hurt. He thumbs your chin and looks into your eyes. “You disappeared on me.”

You bite your lip, concealing the smile wanting to appear at the fact he noticed you were gone.

“I was feeling a bit queasy,” you murmur. It’s not a lie, but not the whole truth, either.

The pad of his thumb brushes over your cheek. Your heart thumps and you look down to avoid the intensity of his gaze, lest he see more than you want him to.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel then, darlin’.”

“I’m fine,” you brush him off, “And I won’t leave you. You look tired. How are you feeling?”

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “Don’t think I don’t know you’re tryin’ to change the subject, little one,” he muses. His hands find your waist, burning through your dress. “I am tired. Let’s call it quits for the night.”

Your mouth pops open and your eyes narrow with suspicion. “Has hell frozen over? Elvis, you’ve hardly cut three songs, and the Colonel said—”

“I heard the Colonel, but I’m tellin’ ya it’s time to go.” There’s an edge to his voice, warning you his mood is shifting. “And I’m doin’ what I promised by knowin’ my limits.”

“Okay, I’m just surprised is all. I’m used to you fighting me like a stubborn goat,” you tease, trying to lighten the mood. You can’t discern if he’s doing this for your sake or his, however. Perhaps it doesn’t matter if it gets the job done.

His cheeks are flushed, so you feel his forehead with the back of your hand. “I suppose you do feel a bit warm,” you concede. “Alright, let’s go get some rest, then.”

He nips at your hand playfully as you bring it down, pulling you closer. The flirtation has you blushing and you resist the urge to giggle, rolling your eyes instead. You can’t help but notice there is no one to perform for but remind yourself he’s just an overly affectionate guy. It means nothing.

“Hey, EP, you comin’?” Charlie yells from inside the room.

“Naw, we’re heading out. I’m tired,” Elvis says, giving you a wink.

Charlie sputters but recovers quickly, gathering the group as Elvis entwines his fingers with yours and heads out to the car.

He doesn’t let you go until you arrive back at the hotel, safe in the room you share.

Something is building between you two. You can feel it in the care of his touch, in the warmth filling your chest and your belly with each beat of your heart. It’s in his eyes as he sits on the edge of the bed, releasing the mask he wears for the rest of the world as you check his vitals.

He is tired and a little feverish. You are proud of him for following through on taking better care of himself, even if you think it is because he is looking out for you and not himself. You give him a quick little smile before turning to put away the blood pressure cuff.

“I wish you’d do that more.”

“Do what?” you ask.

“Smile. I don’t think you realize how beautiful you are when you do it,” he says, low and quiet.

It rumbles through you like thunder, your heart skipping a beat. You pay special attention to clasping your bag closed, unable to look at him but feeling the weight of his gaze.

“Elvis—” you whisper.

“I want you to be happy,” he interrupts.

You sigh with the weight of your circumstances pressing on your shoulders, still unable to meet his eyes.

“But I understand why that’s hard right now. I jus’…I-I w-want you to know I’ll do whatever I can to make things easier on ya. Because you deserve to have more of those pretty smiles.”

The clasp of your bag becomes blurry and your throat tight. You clench the leather and force a deep breath. Tilting your head up to blink back the tears, you clear your throat before you can attempt to look at him.

Why does he have to say things like that? It makes it harder to resist the pull you feel towards him. You are teetering on the very edge of being professional and he seems keen to push you over, whether he knows it or not.

“Thank you,” you finally manage out, though so many words linger unsaid on the tip of your tongue. You meet his eyes and fireworks erupt over your skin at the way he looks up at you so openly. The air is sucked out of the room, deathly still, like before a summer thunderstorm. It leaves you buzzing and dizzy.

He stands, slowly, as if not to startle you, and steps forward. With each inch closer he gets, the air shifts, beginning to crackle with electricity. Your heart gallops faster. If he touches you, you are done for, you just know it. The lightning burning bright inside of him has the power to wreak irrevocable havoc on you. And you cannot afford to let your feelings get in the way of your survival because when he breaks your heart, which you know he will, you will have nowhere to go.

You have the baby to think of now. It is easier to sit in the discomfort of your complicated feelings than in the pain of the inevitable heartbreak that will come when he realizes you’re just like any of his other women—you’re replaceable, at least romantically. And God knows you’ve had too much pain in your life related to the whims of men to add more.  

The air sizzles as he reaches for you, tempting you to burn with his touch. Part of you wants to burn—the deep heat swirling unbidden low in your belly dares you to let him—but you jump back out of instinct.

“I-I should get ready for bed,” you stutter, racing to your suitcase to grab your nightgown before hightailing it to the bathroom and slamming the door harder than you intended. You think you hear him chuckle as you lean back on the door to catch your breath.

Your body shakes but not out of fear of him. No, it’s like you’ve refused it something vital and it quakes with the need of release. Like the crack of lightning in him would bring the relief of rain, cutting the heat between you.

It doesn’t make sense. You’ve never felt this before, but you know it is dangerous. Lightning is beautiful but deadly, after all.

As you stumble your way through your bedtime routine, you realize in a few short days, the storm of a man out there will be your husband. And one more boundary between you you’ve relied on to keep you on solid ground will be gone.

And one look in the mirror at the exhaustion lining your features, you wonder if it is too late; perhaps the coming storm is inevitable and will tear you to pieces no matter what you do.

There are worse ways to perish than in the arms of Elvis Presley.

*

The swell of electricity doesn’t go away. It abates some, at times, but your body is hellbent and hyperaware of Elvis’ every move, of every breath he takes.

You desperately want to blame your job—you’re supposed to be observant of him, after all—or the changes in your body because of the baby, but the waves of rolling thunder build under your skin despite the physical space he is trying to give you.

The marathon of a session on Monday does not make things better. You’d hoped it would be a distraction. He needs to be completely focused to bang out at least nine more songs to finish the album. There will be no time for anything but music.

Except you somehow forget music fuels him and makes him glow from the inside out. Instead of dissipating, the storm just builds and builds, like wild thunderheads in the sky. He lives each song so completely, expertly maneuvering through mournful ballads and bouncing pop and raunchy blues like he was born to do. It’s mind-bending and alluring, and every time he draws you in, it feels like he’s singing directly to you, about you.

He's enjoying himself, despite the long hours. Completely in his element. And electricity zings though your body during the playful moans at the end of Such a Night. By the Thrill of Your Love, you think you might combust.

And he knows it, by the sparkle in his eyes and the pull of his defiant but tempting upper lip. He wasn’t offended by the boundary you set last night in the slightest, giving you the physical space you desperately needed unless needed to keep up the ruse of your engagement. But everything he does, every lyric he sings, every twitch of his body, makes you feel as though you are swirling out of control. The more he respects your need for physical space, the more you want him to box you in.

He's doing just that, just not with his body.

You are completely on edge when not absorbed in his performance and technique. God, what an idiot you were to think he wasn’t talented. His stint in Germany only served to strengthen his craft. The world isn’t ready for this new and improved Elvis. Girls will be beside themselves.

You just never thought you’d be one of them.

By the time he gets to the last song, he can’t stave off how tired he’s getting. The marathon session has taken all night and into the dawn. He lets everyone know he’s not entirely convinced he should even sing this Are You Lonesome Tonight? but the Colonel, along with Steve, the RCA rep, press him.

Worry for Elvis’ wellbeing has you voicing your concern, but the men look at you as if you are a silly little girl and not a professional. It takes a moment to remember the only one who really knows your role here is Parker, and despite nearly being asleep on your feet, you are ready to go toe to toe with him. Elvis concedes to his manager, however, before shooting you a look and running his hands down your arms to placate you. The long touch of him distracts you enough to lessen your annoyance for the moment.

This last song is the only time he kicks you out of the room, along with everyone except the musicians, but you manage to sneak into the booth to listen. You can’t see anything through the window because he’s ordered all the lights be turned off, but the result has goosebumps rising all over your body with the emotionally eerie but gentle lilt of his performance.

By the end, tears are streaming unbidden down your cheeks, though you aren’t entirely sure why. You race to wipe your cheeks before the lights pop back on, but he catches your eye through the window and swell of emotion rises again.

You know you are careening quickly towards something beyond your control. The pregnancy is one thing pushing you towards the edge, but this new arrangement with Elvis, the intimacy involved, has your heart racing with both curiosity and fear. It is all so far out of your experience but there is no real choice. It is whatever this new normal is or running for your life.

Being off kilter and filled with feelings you don’t understand is uncomfortable, but you’ll take it versus the alternative, though you can’t help the fear you’ve put Elvis in terrible danger crawling at the edges of your mind.

It’s this that keeps you alert as you all board the bus to head back to Memphis after a quick diner breakfast. Elvis is dying on the vine, the energy of performing all night taking its toll. The darkness around his eyes and the pallor of his skin tells you everything you need to know, but his limbs twitch restlessly all the way home, even when he doses, curled up into you with his head on your shoulder. It’s as if he can’t shut it off even when he is completely drained.

It’s too much for him. Your anxiety builds and builds in the hours it takes to return to Graceland. You are worrying your lips raw between your concern for him and the position you’ve put him in. Guilt swirls in your stomach, making your carsickness worse.

On top of it, your body is desperate to be close to him, as though his presence is a balm to your burdens, but those feelings just bring more confusion. You relish the tickle of his long, soft hair against your jaw and the way his fingers interweave with yours, even in sleep. Despite how ready you were to leave mere days ago, you aren’t quite sure you could do so now without damaging a part of yourself you didn’t know existed.

It frightens you, but the tingle that zings down your arms and into your palm lets you know it is exhilarating, too.

The bus is quiet of its usual boisterousness when it pulls through the gates of Graceland in the early afternoon. It is hard to believe how much everything has changed in a few short days, since the last time you arrived like this.

“Elvis,” you whisper, but he barely stirs. His eyes are closed, and his full lips are open slightly, giving him an air of innocence that tugs at your heart. “Elvis, sweetheart, we’re home.”

Sweetheart? Madone, where did that come from? You blush at your use of the endearment, not having used it since your brothers were little boys and certainly never with a man.

Elvis sputters and his long eyelashes flutter open as he stretches his long arms. “Mmm, ‘sweetheart,’ huh?” he murmurs, his lips turning up in a small, sleepy smile.

“I—you must have dreamed that,” you reply, flustered, but you know your pink cheeks and the way you twist your ring give you away.

He just grins. “You can call me sweetheart all day, Little Bird.” Then, he pulls you down for a sweet, chaste kiss, which surprises you. He tastes of sleep and coffee and chewing gum. The kiss is quick but sends a tremble through you all the same, especially since the bus is nearly empty.

When he pulls back and takes a look at you, his eyes fill with concern. He runs his thumb under your eye, as though he could wipe away the darkness you know is there. “Did you sleep at all, baby?”

You shake your head no, trying to brush him off by getting up to walk away, but he stands and grabs your arm. Pulling you back gently, he wraps his arms around your middle. You give up trying to wiggle away—he’s stronger than you. You’re surprised to find you don’t mind it. If it were any other man, you’d be panicking at the closeness, but it seems you’ve grown used to Elvis’ near constant displays of physical affection.

“I’m fine, Elvis. Let’s go inside.”

“Little one, the doc said you need sleep…”

His vacillation through pet names and endearments should annoy you, but they don’t. Not anymore. You sigh.

“…and you’re gettin’ married tomorrow. You need ta look your best for your husband,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

Rolling your eyes at his silliness, you try and mask the surprising buzz of excitement running through your limbs at the reality that in a day you will be married to this exasperatingly handsome and talented mess of a man. It’s overwhelming and a little exhilarating, but you can feel exhaustion pulling at you, knowing you’ll be knee deep in preparations in a few short hours.

You resist the urge to lay your head on his shoulder, but he senses your resignation in the way your body deflates. It’s hard, you realize, to let anyone else take care of you.

“How ‘bout I rest with you? Will you at least try to take a nap then?” If he’s conceding to more rest, you know you must look worse for the wear. But it does the trick.

“Alright, fine. I will rest if you do, too,” you concede.

Being back at Graceland—back home—helps you relax more. No one can get to you or Elvis here. You fear you won’t be able to sleep, but once your head hits the pillow, Elvis safe and resting inches away, you slide into the dreamless dark.

*

Taglist Pt 1

@eliseinmemphis@russian-soft-bitch@tattywood

@sassanoe@thella @suspiciousmidge @hiddlepiddlediddlewiddle@carolinesbookworld @juggernort @aesthetic-lyss @stitchattacks @donnamarie23

 @littlebitofgreen@paigevis@bugg06@xhannahbananax03@artlover8992

@18lkpeters@frozenhuntress67@girlblogger2002@kendralavon7@misspresley

@be-my-ally @whositmcwhatsit @vintageshanny @ellie-24 @thatbanditqueen @powerofelvis @from-memphis-with-love

 @precious-lil-scoundrel @stylespresleyhearted @prompted-wordsmith @crash-and-cure @elvisgf @lookingforrainbows @fic-over-cannon @godlypresley @ab4eva @whatstruthgottodowithit @elvisabutler @amydarcimarie@idontwanttoputanything @callieselvisobsessed @captainamerica1235-blog  @xenaspace3-blog 

@simplyamberj@claire-elvisgirl@everythingelvispresley@louisejoy86@deniseinmn @madelynpresley

[hotvintagepoll]

Machiko Kyō (Rashomon, Ugetsu, The Face of Another)—Probably a bit of a reach ik because she is absolutely traditionally attractive (like one of the most stunning people ever imo) BUT from ghost women to people having total breakdowns, my girl could absolutely play unhinged and spooky better than anyone when she wanted to and I believe that gives her a certain scrungle factor!! Also she's an icon and she should've gotten farther in the women's tournament

Timothy Carey (Convicts 4, Poor White Trash, The Killing)— The fact that Timothy Carey is an ACTOR is honestly an astonishing one. In most of his films you literally cannot understand what he says, why he's saying it, or again...how he became an actor. He frequently plays scum, delinquents, the criminally insane, and degenerates. Regardless, when he's on-screen he makes you want to watch him because by god he's going to do SOMETHING. WHO KNOWS WHAT THAT WILL BE!? He'll speak his entire dialogue through clenched teeth, dance his weird little heart out, and all the while looking at you with these big dark eyes that constantly have that quality of a dog that is too overstimulated. He is a greasy freak and I always get so excited when I see his names in the credits.

This is round 1 of the contest. All other polls in this bracket can be found here. If you're confused on what a scrungle is, or any of the rules of the contest, click here.

[additional submitted propaganda + scrungly videos under the cut]

Machiko Kyō:

Timothy Carey:

Link to Convicts 4, Carey comes in around 48:00. According to the submittee "he will be eating sandwich and the first line is 'Johnnnnnny!'". [editor's note: as with all full movies submitted as propaganda, I didn't have time to watch them beyond a few minutes to gauge the scrungliness of the guys, so if you choose to watch in full be wary if you have triggers since I can't tag for them.]

[thequeensjester]

The opening credits are so dynamic and summarizes the season.

I briefly wrote speculation on this new title card before but didn't really have a fleshed out idea. Now I have more concrete thoughts and so much of it has to do with the opening credits.

But first! Please see and support these two gifsets as their work helped it all click for me:

Opening Credits by fukutomichi & Red Costuming by leotanaka

So, this green title card so far only appears in ep1. Now in s1 ep1, the title card is covered in frost because that's where the present day story begins and iirc, the title card is gold for rest of the series.

Here, I think this green title card is foreshadowing. It's rust, specifically verdigris because we see traces of red alloy, which I think is copper. Verdigris is rust derived from copper and it's toxic.

That seems strange that veridigris is used here (and I'm definitely inspired by Elden Ring lore) because in ROP, that emerald green is linked with the Elves. I believe it's a flip on that and instead, it's showing Sauron infiltrating and poisoning different factions of Middle Earth. This is backed by costuming and cinematography.

The show isn't always trying to be subtle with its foreshadowing and that's okay. It should and needs to pay off. In ROP, Sauron is coded with red; we see that in his prologue look. Red can also double for bloodshed or danger like we see here in the S1 ep1 prologue and the Celebrimbor premonition.

So with all that said, let's break down the updated title sequence!

(caps are slightly adjusted for contrast and visibility. Apparently, the show is too dark on some screens?

I think this is obvious; starting with Sauron at his lowest. Then, the red grain worms its way into the gold patterns. In fact, it sort of resembles:

In the prologue, we see veins erupt on Sauron's face for a brief moment during his tantrum. I *think* we see something similar when Sauron gets rejected by Galadriel.

(Thanks Charlie Vickers and Jack Lowden for all the face! Love when actors aren't afraid to just go for it.)

With the Dwarves, it's fascinating because both father and son are already wearing red before meeting Annatar.

Danger comes to the Dwarves as a result of Mt. Doom erupting so this is something Annatar exploits. Durin IV was right to be suspicious and called Annatar's lies but the fear of doom and trying to be proactive to stop it is much louder. Reconciliation with his dad goes hand-in-hand with giving up their stubbornness to try and work together for their people.

However, this is exactly what makes the Dwarves vulnerable to Sauron. A tragedy.

I see a lot talk about the writers going in circles with Sauron leaving Eregion but only to come back. I think he fled because he's not sure how the elves will react when they find Galadriel in the pond so better leave for self-preservation. He goes to Mordor to scope out the place and manages to plant further doubt.

He asked Adar in s1 if he remembers him and Adar asked him who is he? Sauron already sank his claws in Adar long ago with red wine and his presence here triggers an old memory. Now he's nudging Adar to pursue his doubts and hoping Adar will make that mistake.

Celebrimbor's forge is already tainted by Sauron. His new forge (right) burns redder than the previous one. He may not have been involved in making the three rings for the Elves but his effect on Celebrimbor is there.

Aside from Celebrimbor reciting "not power of the flesh but over flesh," he's wearing red in that exact scene. I looked and tried to find if he's worn red at any other time in s1 but I think this is the only instance. He's usually dressed in blue and green. Celebrimbor's costume change is so subtle because together with the other elves, they are dressed in harmony: gold, blue, and green.

Even when he forged the Elven rings, he wore blue but when he made rings for the Dwarves, well... what a difference. He's also too happy to lie to Gil-Galad.

Red costuming goes into full force in Numenor.

I originally thought this orb was an eye and it still could be. Then thanks to leotanaka's gifset, I realize it could be the icon on Pharazon's chest and foreshadowing the Great Wave.

Galadriel's presence shook up Numenor. Sauron didn't need to do too much because Galadriel's relentless pursuit did the work for him. He saw the Numenoreans' disdain for elves and just needed to gently steer her in the right direction.

I definitely think Sauron takes a lot gambles but actually learned to read the room to NOT get crowned again. He can't know how Numenor will react to their losses in the Southlands. Instead, he just scams them by talking with enough ambiguity for people to fill in the blanks for him. This gives him enough resources to work with.

Now with the elves, here is where things diverge. So Sauron hasn't physically touched the rings but he did affect Celebrimbor and Galadriel, who were both directly involved in making the rings. The golden tree we see in the title sequences is still gold but it's hue is different, slightly warmer as an indirect result of Sauron.

Compare these two titles:

S1 (left) title card uses a bright, radiant yellow gold. S2 (right) uses a burnt gold. I do think current one refers to fire and a forge at work but it's also implying a decline due to Sauron's influence.

I'm curious if the title sequence will continue to evolve throughout the season but if not, I look forward to what the s3 title sequence transforms into.

credit: cap-that.com

[penvisions]

no, but, see the thing is

everyone, even if he's been willing to participate, have made him the butt of the unspoken joke. they'll have him on his talk shows, they'll have him on their skits, they'll have him mentioned in articles of upcoming stuff he's only being considered for. and all for the clout that the man has, he's talented and he's popular. people recognize that to further themselves. and while yah, it was a little funny to see the interactions between kieran and they're friends in, but no one see's him for what he's done, for what he's capable of even after feeling left out and ignored for so long.

imagine if he turned down tlou because he didn't want to take on such a life changing and amazing story line because his doubts and insecurities got the better of him? what if he discontinues his work with the mandalorian and star wars because of the way the third season's writing essentially made him a background character who had impact, given all the credit his character has done to another (while the character in question is still one i admire)?

what if he stopped, decided to cut his losses and give up on his dream because of how this industry makes people like him, with his background, with his culture, feel?

there have been less than 35 hispanic winners in the history of the emmy's and for two of them to be nomited in one year was phenomenal. this was his year, he was everywhere, he was seen and he was loved. i know, i know deep down that yes it's just an award and yes it's a messed up system in which they decide, but he deserved it, dammit.

i am so, incredibly proud of this man and all that he has done, worked for, strived for, supported in his own endeavors and the endless love and light he shines on everyone around him.

he is such a kind hearted and wholesome person and to be constantly looked over when he gives his all has got to devastating on some level.

i am so excited and proud of all the winners, for beef, for the bear, for barbie, for all of the nominations that didn't even make the press and the ones that did. succession was a good show, it explored humanity and the stresses of life, the actors did an amazing job. don't mistake me on that

but i don't want this to be the thing that makes him work himself to the bone, despite an injury that requires surgery in the efforts to be recognized. i don't want this to fuel him to hurt himself further, to take roles he thinks will get him attention, to turn down the one's he wants to do and would love to do. i don't want this to change him, but it has to have effected him on some level and for that i am angry

[earlgraytay]

....God, now my brain is trying to spit out a DunMeshi Hollywood AU...

Laios is a former child actor whose career trajectory most closely resembles that of Macaulay Caulkin. His dad was his manager, and this went about as well as you'd expect. Laios dropped out of public life for a long, long time in his late teens- people say he was in rehab, though whether that's true is best left as an exercise for the reader- and, as an adult, his acting credits mostly consist of cameos as "Serial Killer" or "Drug Dealer 3" on crime shows. He's trying to become a director and keeps working on incredibly offputting Z-grade horror flicks that can't get seed money. on account of. well. laios. His friends are always welcome to take a role- as cast or crew- if they need something between gigs.

Falin is also a former child actor. Unlike Laios, she managed to get out of the biz with her sanity intact- she got accepted to a very prestigious STEM magnet high school, which is where she met Marcille, and went to med school after. She's wound up working as the set doctor for a couple movies you've heard of and a lot of movies you haven't; she's also been "the Chimera", a monster in several of Laios' horror flicks.

Marcille is in pyrotechnics. She seems mild mannered at first, but then you catch her on set up to her elbows in gasoline... well. She spends more time in the medical tent than anyone would like, especially Falin. She's got a YouTube channel as a side hustle where she blows things up in parking lots and freaks out at bad Italian cooking.

Speaking of, Marcille went to high school with Falin and fell for her pretty much instantly. They recently moved in together and are trying to navigate living together for the first time. It's not going as well as either of them would like, but they're getting there.

Senshi works catering. Was there ***any*** doubt about that? Everyone's excited to work on the same set as Senshi, because the food is actually good, regardless of whether you're filming in Monterrey, Marrakesh, or Mentor, Ohio. Senshi's pretty quiet about his personal life, but he'll occasionally whip out his phone and show off pictures of his stunning, xeriscaped garden. He loves working with Laios, even though the pay isn't great, because Laios WILL let him put squid and dragonfruit on the menu.

Chilchuck is a stuntman, and the de facto union rep on most sets. He can tell you, to the second, when the next mandated break is, when the kid on set needs to be done for the day, and when it's time to go home. I headcanon human!AU Chilchuck is a little person, so his proudest career accomplishment to date is probably standing in for Peter Dinklage in a film where he got to be the leading man; he's real fucking sick of being a bootleg hobbit. Somehow, he manages to spend LESS time in the medical tent than Marcille.

Itsuzumi ... God. Her background is so specific and doesn't translate well. My gut instinct is that she's a cat-themed idol who came to the US to be ~☆ a movie star ☆~ and got stuck in a shitty, exploitative contract. I'd love it if someone who knows the character better could give suggestions, though!

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

I've come to realize the familiarity and extreme consistency (lmao) in the way the showrunner portrays the main male characters in the show. In ss1 Aegon was turned into a rapist to make Rhaenyra look better. In ss2 it was Aemond's turn to be speedrun into a monster to make Alicent's betrayal of her family look reasonable. With Aegon somewhat redeemed in ss2 ,it made Aemond's situation even worse. At the end of ss2 it was exactly Aemond vs the world, even though he was still fighting for his faction he had nothing left, no one cared for him, his mother sold him on a plate to the enemy. I don't understand what reason Aemond had to continue fighting. But I think that doesn't only happen to male characters, Alicent and Helaena were reduced to two cheerleaders for TB and Rhaenyra. With Alicent, everything was too obvious, but I want to talk more about Helaena. She was always portrayed as an autistic, the only pure and innocent person in the family. Is that why Alicent wanted to keep her from being tainted by the men around her and the war? But that vision was shattered when her vision and Daemon appeared. To me that scene just left bitterness, she showed no emotion when telling her crying brother that he was going to die. But on the other hand, she didn't show any anger towards the person responsible for her son's death? And also wanted him to fulfill his destiny by taking down her own brother, who was still fighting for their lives? Not to mention that Helaena was portrayed as so emotionally detached that I couldn't even sympathize with her because no one knew what she was thinking. She didn't seem too sad about her son's death, didn't visit her husband even though he was seriously injured, didn't want to be involved in the war even though she was a dragon rider. It's like writers have no other way to write TG's women than to make them look naive and useless. Or worse, justify betrayal by shirking responsibility and blaming her sons like Alicent. Episode 8 for me is the worst in the series because it makes everything TG built: their reason to fight, their family love, their loyalty to each other, destroyed all at once. No more TG. Now it's just Aemond alone in a war without purpose, no one cares about it anymore.

I also want to give credit to Ewan in his scene with Alicent and Helaena. Those 2 scenes prove that Ewan is more than capable of expressing everything the script requires and more than that: really touching the viewers' emotions with his acting. It's no wonder the writers doesn't give Ewan any material to work with, he would blow TB characters out of the water if given screentime and a quality script. Unfortunately, we only have bias because no one lets a "villain" gain the love of the audience. All the actors deserve better than this shit show.

Sorry if the post is a bit long, I hope you have a good day.

Hello! Thank you, and I hope you have a good day (or night) as well:)

Well, I don't have much to add to what you said - as I heartily agree with you. And on top of it it is really disheartening to see quite a few people from the GA fall for the writers' BS - but media literacy has been dying on a large scale for a while so that's what we get.

P.S. I especially agree with you about Helaena. She has been so detached from the narrative (even more so than Aemond in the first half of the season if that's even possible) and the confrontation with Aemond was presented in such a clumsy and inept way that I for one (just like you, from what I understood) felt virtually nothing for Helaena: no pity, no compassion - and no anger towards Aemond on her behalf. And it's not about me loving one more than the other - it's about the sheer laziness and idiocy of the writing. I doubt that any actor could have saved the situation in circumstances such as these - but Ewan still did a marvellous job and he will forever have my respect for giving his all to his character no matter what.

[violetganache42]

Highlights from a swashbuckling, futuristic watch party on this fine 6th anniversary of "The Shadow War!":

"No Sail"

The sail deactivating every ten seconds after despositing a nickel

"Warning: Never. Drink. Sea water! Tempting as it is, it'll just make you thirstier."

Mine!

Goofy pulling up a fake shark fin while Donald gets a real shark

Return of the Perfect Cast!

"Duck to the Future"

Godfrey and I DREADING this episode

Not Doofus Drake! ><

WriteBackAtYa: "Who doesn’t want lemonade made by 87 Doofus Drake’s feet?"

(No! Bad Will!)

Magica appearance?!

This episode predicting Scrooge being Doctor Who

$500 BUS FAIR?! DAMN INFLATION!

HDL's "adult" designs (It's not fucking hard to make them look like actual adult ducks!)

Old Man Gyro

Me: "Where's Time Baby when you need him?" Godfrey: "Again, same brain"

Take a shot every time WriteBackAtYa says "It gets worse"

Us HATING Future Webby's design (Her outfit is fine, but everything else? Bless me bagpipes, it's bad!)

Pay no attention to the witch behind the curtain!

Future Doofus being an absolute dick (Webby deserves someone better, and that someone is Lena!)

puffywuffy8904 and Alex: *pointing out how Drake is dead* WriteBackAtYa: "The orange traffic cone above his grave should be stolen by now"

Johnny Quest ass shot

Future Louie riding shotgun

Even in the original series, Dewey crashes a plane

Suddenly, THE HINDENBURG DISASTER

Scrooge disrupting the timeline with Webby saying she's not into Doofus (Thank you for setting the course for a good future, Scrooge. This episode was… UGH… Never again! ><)

"Sky Pirates…in the Sky!"

Dewey wanting to tell his family how he got his hat

"Hey feet off the merchandise!"

Us singing the Sky Pirate song!

Scrooge's golden reaction after the song finished and the treasure was stolen

puffywuffy8904: "even though it was SHIT"

Any: "Busted" Me:

Webby casually gaslighting Louie into believing the Sapphire of Souls is real

Louie being the Gollum of the family

Don Karnage being a bad actor

puffywuffy8904: "you know who ELSE is a botanist" Me: "MY MOM"

Cater-chiller

Godfrey and Kaito stealing my thunder

Discord dunking on Dewey by freezing the stream during his Sky Pirate reprise

Even LAUNCHPAD was mad at Dewey for what he did! LAUNCHPAD OF ALL PEOPLE! That's how you know you and your ego trip fucked up!

Magica having a better disguise than Don Karnage

Sky pirates: "A Duel!" Godfrey: "(cue duel of the fates)"

The way Scrooge boards the Sunchaser with his hat full of treasure. XD

Webby revealing to Louie she tricked him: GASLIGHT GATEKEEP GIRLBOSS

Marshmello x DuckTales - Fly (Music Video)

Scrooge and the kids embodying the element of sassy

Puffy panicking about the family being out in space

"MARSHMELLO IS A DUCKTALES FAN"

This song being in a Fortnite event apparently

Treasure Planet

Everyone realizing Missy hadn't joined yet (The lack of "smash" was noticable.)

Me sharing Treasure Planet Lorcana cards

The offended "Ewww"

melcat33: "family clearly having a huge crisis" "MY JUICE" Tokuvivor: "If anyone needs me, I'll be in the kitchen drinking… juice."

puffywuffy8904: "HEY COOL A DEAD GUY"

Alex pointing out how the dying guys always have to give a vague warning

Jim: "Treasure Planet." Me: "Roll credits."

Delbert immediately being on board to tag along with Jim

The meta in "character-building months"

The TRANSITION from the Hawkins' residence to the Spaceport!

Captain Amelia appearance!

CYBORG…

John Silver 🤝 Hugh Neutron Calling Jim and Jimmy "Jimbo"

MORPH APPEARANCE

Learning the original Treasure Planet novel popularized a lot of pirate tropes

Everyone praising how it is a fun yet underrated movie

puffywuffy8904: "wait are they gonna kiss eww" Me: "Outside. Now!"

Subtitles dying as John Silver was berating the crew

"I'm Still Here" screaming 2000s-core

Subtitles near the end of the montage:

Star Wars doing the "Your father is the true villain" shtick first

TransedMyGender: "You know what's worse than a supernova?" Alex: "see your father leave"

Scroop killing Arrow!

puffywuffy8904: "there ain't gonna be a treasure planet 2 for us to worry about" melcat33: "don't you dare jinx us"

"oh shit, guess i have a kid now"

Morph messing with Jim

Missy FINALLY joining the watch party!

Morph custody fight

Everyone saying who they consider the best duck waifu (Morph can be a duck if he wants to. lol)

Suddenly, ROBOT

Learning that Jim was voiced by Joseph Gordin Levitt (NGL, he sounded a lot like Ben Schwartz at various instances)

The violins playing

"We're not a couple" Delbert and Amelia LITERALLY having a shipping moment immediately after

puffywuffy8904: "this guy stinks" Me and WriteBackAtYa's first thoughts:

THE MEME

"Woof."

Delayed subtitles

🎵Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me!🎵

The WONDERFUL meshing of 2D animation and CGI

Us @ Scroop's death:

Me: "BITE OF 87" WriteBackAtYa: "87 like ducktales?"

BATHROOM BREAK SPEEDRUN

puffywuffy8904: "hey you know what ELSE has robots and supernovas" Alex: "not Jimbo's dad"

Suddenly, HUEBERRYSHORTCAKE APPEARANCE!

This movie being TaleSpin in Space

Family is the greatest treasure of all!

WriteBackAtYa: "His mom is cool" Me: "She did her very best." WriteBackAtYa: "Like no one ever was"

SHIPPING UP TO BOSTON

Delbert and Amelia already having quatriplets quadruplets

DuckLooneyHistoria bringing up the 1988 Russian Treasure Island movie