#me writing tom into the script like it HAS to be him

[spideyhexx]

KIT!!! write the hypothetical baseball movie and my life is yours (jokes)

​hypothetical character played by tom fjncrjfjdj we’re so starved for tom content and new characters and such we MAKE OUR FUCKING OWN

[iniquitousyearning]

SLYTHERINSLUT0’S RIDDLEMAS

dec 17th. tom riddle — overstim, cockwarming.

RIDDLEMAS MASTERLIST. I 2024

summary: cockwarming as a punishment? clit stim cockwarming as a punishment? tom would think so.

warnings: 18+, SMUT MDNI, cockwarming, ft. tom’s mythical clit magic that i force into almost everyone of my fics for him, overstimulation, begging, sharp tongue banter, slight praise, tom is an infuriating bastard like always, dom!tom, slight part 2 from this.

also, thank you to my beautiful @cotttagecorewhore for the idea 🤍

He's a master of multitasking, you've learned in the passing months. Multitasking and complete self-possession, something you can see as he writes, without a break—as you sit perched in his lap, thighs on either side of his.

He's not writing anything of any particular importance—some letter, an order, some instruction for something. All of it is of little consequence to you, so you focus on the act of it instead—the way he holds the quill, the way it moves across the page in neat, angular script. He does it like it's something that requires no effort, not even a moment of thought, and you wonder if writing to him is as easy as breathing.

It's so easy to love you, you think, until your brain goes back to focusing on the feeling of him. His scent. His breath. His length buried inside you. His free hand not letting you move.

Him.

"That's a filthy habit," he murmurs, and you realize you've been biting your lip, watching his hand work across the page. "You’re breaking the skin."

"Can't help it," you grumble, and to make a point, you start biting your lip again. "I chew my lip when I'm impatient. I'm impatient right now."

He makes a sound that's somewhere between a huff and a sigh at that—and you can feel his attention shift from the page to look up at you for a moment—

"Patience, you've never had. Your only flaw, I'd say." He says, languidly taking in the sight of you before shifting his eyes back to his work. “That, and the penchant for damaging your skin."

You roll your eyes. You know he sees it.

"I didn't realize you were an expert in dermatology.”

You can feel the vibrations in his chest as he laughs—a low breathless chuckle, and you can't stop yourself from shuddering.

"It's more because I don't want to taste blood when I kiss you."

When I kiss you.

You’ll never tire of words like that, and it’s the simplicity in which he says them that makes half your brain immediately short circuit.

Because it’s moments like this—and there are many of them—where you have to remind yourself to breathe, and it's almost embarrassing how easily he has that effect on you, how he can still make you dizzy from a single offhanded comment.

"I don't recall you complaining before."

You're trying very hard to make your voice sound nonchalant now, and you think you're doing a fairly good job of it, but you can feel the way your hips try to wiggle against him involuntarily, the way your hands tighten on his shoulders, digging your nails into his sweater.

He can feel it, he can definitely feel it.

"I'm not complaining now," he says, the smirk still in his voice. "Just stating my preference."

"I have a preference for you not writing right now," you toss back, and you sound whinier than you intended. "You're torturing me."

"Torture implies you're not enjoying it at all," he murmurs, his eyes never leaving the page. "And I can feel how much you're enjoying it."

You can't stop yourself from shuddering again, as if half of your nerve endings are suddenly connected to him, and you bury your face in his neck.

"You're insufferable," you murmur, feeling the soft wool of his sweater against your face. "Can you feel how much I'm wishing to hex you, too?"

"I can," he replies, before his hips cant up a fraction—just the tiniest shift—pressing his throbbing dick up a little deeper into you, making you bite your lip again, and you're almost certain he's done it just so you'll react. "I far prefer the former, however."

You make an indignant sound at that, but it comes out all breathless and a little high-pitched—and it’s then that you decide to give up your attempts at sounding dignified.

"You and your fucking preferences." You hiss, half muffled against his shoulder.

"I'm nothing if not consistent," he says, and you think he actually sounds more distracted now, as if he's more focused on the wiggling of your hips against him then he is his writing. And then— "if you want something, you know you could just ask for it."

You lift your head from his shoulder at that, just so he can see the glare you're giving him now.

"I won't beg for you." You retort, and you realize halfway through that it's not quite as biting as you intended—it's hard to be biting when you can't seem to stop shuddering—when you feel so fucking full of him. "Not after this."

"I didn't say you had to beg," he whispers, and you realize his quill has stopped moving on the page. "I said you had to ask."

It takes every ounce of willpower you have to keep from rocking your hips against him again—you're not sure how much of this you're willing to take.

"And you'd actually indulge me?" You cock a suspicious eyebrow. "If I just, asked for it?"

Now his eyes have left the page completely—quill dropping from his hand as he brings it to your chin, gripping it gently, tilting your head up so he can look you in the face now. You know you're flushed—you can feel the heat crawling over your skin, your neck, probably to your ears, too.

"When have I ever denied you?" He wets his lips as he says it. "As long as you ask nicely."

"I always ask nicely," you mutter, but the effect is lost somewhat when, in your attempt to regain a semblance of control, his hips shift and his dick twitches inside you again. "Jesus—Tom, just fuck me. I can't—"

There's an instant when you think the corners of his eyes crinkle in satisfaction when you say that, and he knows just how undone you feel because he's the one who's gotten you there, and that's why he likes to take his time, because it gets you like this—

"That wasn't nicely," he tuts, tilting your head up a little further. "That was greedy. Selfish."

And there's a hitch in your breath when he says it, because as much as it rankles you to be called that, you know he's right—

"Please," you whine, slick walls clenching tight around him—craving the friction. "Please please please..."

You hoped you’d catch a hitch in his breath at that, something that shows you’re getting somewhere—but he just smiles—and it's a slow, almost cruel smile as his hand slips down to your throat, thumb running over the skin of your neck.

"Much better," he coos, and god it's so condescending you’re back to mentally hexing him. "For your efforts."

And the second he says that—you feel his magic swirling and massaging over your clit.

"Oh god," you manage, half a gasp and half a moan, your eyes squeezed shut. "Oh my god—"

It feels both instantaneous and instant—the wave of pleasure that washes through you at the exact time that the hand around your throat tightens. Another gasp gets stuck in your throat and you want to rock against him but he's holding you in place, and you have to settle for clinging on to his shoulders, clawing at him—

"Eyes open," he rasps, and you do, with an effort, the look on his face almost sinful when you manage to open them—his eyes darkened, watching you intently. "Just like that. Good. No moving."

That simple word—good—does way more to you then it has any right to, and you watch his face as the realization of how much you liked it shows there too.

"Don't be cruel," you whine again, your nails still biting into his shoulders because it's all you have, the only way to anchor yourself. "Tom—fuck—please—"

You see the way a muscle in his jaw clenches for a second—just a second—as if he's biting back a reaction.

"Relax," his hand slips to the back of your head, pulling you to rest your face against his shoulder as he goes back to writing. "I'm almost done here."

You want to make some biting comeback but you can't even think, let alone speak—the pleasure is already at a fever pitch that's almost too much, to the point where you feel like you're trembling, your muscles taut, your thighs clenching, your nails raking desperately up the wool of his sweater.

"Almost?" You manage between gasps as the sensation heightens and you can practically feel your climax prowling near. "You—you said you'd—give me what I want if I asked—"

"You're right," he's hardly focused, as if he can't be bothered in the slightest by your frantic state on his lap. "But I didn't say I'd give it to you now, did I?"

"You bastard," you gasp, your head lolling against the crook of his neck. "You're a fucking—mmffff—god—"

"Poor thing," he responds, all faux-pity as he runs a hand through your hair. "So helpless she's calling me a god."

You roll your eyes with a groan, while he just keeps writing—you can feel yourself trying to rock against him again as the pleasure is building and building and you can't find a balance—

"Tom," you gasp out, but you're not even sure what you're asking for, all you know is that it's him—it’s him and him and him. "Tom—I'm going to—you're going to make me—"

A shudder goes through him at that, barely perceptible, the smallest jerk that you're not sure anyone else would notice but you're so aware of his body and his responses that you'd never miss it—

"Go on." He urges, quietly. "I won't stop you."

You think it's probably the tone in which he says it—half pitying, half condescending—that does you in, and all you can do is bite down on his shoulder, hard, and then you're cumming, almost violently—as if something inside you snaps all at once and you're shaking with it, clawing at him, gasping for air, trying in vain not to make a sound because his dorm is not warded off yet and you're certain the rest of the school would hear if you screamed—

"Mfffff—"

You're clenching, walls fluttering around him as he lets you bite down on his shoulder as hard as you want—the shudder that goes through him at the feeling of your teeth on his skin doesn't go unnoticed, and you wonder if he likes it, if he wants you to mark him just as bad as you want to leave your claim.

"Alright," he purrs when you go limp against him, half slumped over his lap. "Alright. Relax. Good."

You feel utterly boneless and breathless against him, like you've been completely drained out of everything, still shaking a little—he's done this to you in a matter of a few minutes and you feel humiliated by the ease in which he manages it, the control—

"I hate you," you murmur breathlessly, wincing as you feel him—huge and solid, buried inside you—twitch. "Fuck, I hate you."

There’s a low, breathless hum that those words pull from him—and you feel him tuck a strand of your hair behind your ear, before his hand goes back to your throat, tilting your head back up.

"Don't lie," he murmurs, mouthing at your jaw. "You don't."

You're half tempted to argue otherwise, or give him some sort of biting response—but at the feeling of his mouth against your neck, you feel a fresh burst of heat flare up again and you can't seem to fight it—

"No," you breathe out, and you sound almost delirious with it now, too far gone to pretend you have any semblance of control. "I d-don't."

"That's what I thought," he hums, you can feel that smirk on your skin and you hate it and you love it simultaneously, and you wonder how it's possible to feel this many things at once. "You've always been a terrible liar."

Your lips part in response to that, but before you can get words out, he's shifting to resume his writing, and the magic on your clit starts back up again—

"Fuck! Y-you can't be serious," you manage through a mewl, because you're sure you don't have anything left to give—there's no way you can feel it again, much less so soon. "You can't just—"

"I'm not done yet," he replies, simply. "That means you aren't either."

It's almost infuriating, how simple he makes it sound, as if you don't have any say in it, as if he's going to just pull another orgasm out of you the way you'd pull a tissue out of a box—and you want to hate him for it, only you're already going back to being desperate, all your nerve endings on fire again, your fingers clenching uselessly against the dark wool—

"Tommmm" you whine, clenching around him as he twitches inside you, as the stimulation on your clit grows stronger—making your hips jerk, making you lift yourself about an inch up his shaft—just enough to make him groan—

"Fuck."

His fingers immediately fist in your hair, jerking your head back—and you love it, yet hate it, making you hate that you love it—and he makes a low, guttural sound against your neck, almost a growl.

"If you keep that up," you think it might actually be a threat now, because it’s snarled through barred teeth. "I will never finish this."

"That's—that's sort of the point," you gasp out. "I don't care if you don't finish it—I fucking need you—now—"

He makes that guttural sound against your neck again, almost as if he's biting it back—as if he needs the restraint to resist just throwing you onto the desk and having you there—

"Patience," he growls, but you can hear how breathless he is too, now, how affected he is—and that thought makes you feel insane all over again. "You think you deserve to be fucked after what you did? Hm? Slipping me that potion—tying me up—"

"Yes—yes I do—" you don't care that the sound that comes out of your mouth is most definitely a moan, that it's completely pitiful how desperate you are now—you want him, and nothing else matters. "It was just a little potion, it didn't even last that long, you were just mad I made you—"

He shakes his head, telling you without words to shut up.

"Careful," his hand slips from your hair to cover your mouth. "Don't want you to go talking yourself into trouble," his hand tightens a fraction when you try to bite at. "You might end up getting what you don't want."

He shifts under you, making you gasp against his palm, your nails biting into his shoulder as the magic on your clit twirls and swirls with just a little more intensity, enough for you to undeniably feel it—and Tom jerks his hips up into you, just enough for you to feel that, too—

You shake, forcing the words from under his palm. "Tom, please—"

It's not a whine, now—it's a keening, an almost broken sort of plea—but it's as if he doesn't hear it, or maybe he just doesn’t care, because he's continuing to speak in that low, growly rumble against your neck that's just as torturous as everything else.

"You're going to be quiet. You're going to take it," he asserts, and your eyes nearly roll back at the sheer heat of it. "Until I believe you’re deserving of more."

You have no idea if you're nodding or trying to protest, you don't even know which one you want to do because both options sound impossible to you—and you're almost hyperventilating now, the intensity almost too much and not enough all at once—you're desperate, you're aching, you're needy, and then you're falling over the edge—second orgasm shredding through you like lightening—

Oh—fucking hell—

It wrings itself out of you, violent and all consuming, but you can't make a sound—can't do anything except bite down on Tom's hand and clench your eyes shut as you fall apart—your thighs shaking, every muscle taut, your nails clawing desperately at his shoulder.

And he's murmuring things against your neck that you can't make out, holding you against him through it, making you take it in the most exquisite kind of torture—and god, you're certain he must be smiling, you're certain he loves having you like this, a broken mess on his lap, unable to speak, only whimper as he pulls his hand away with a "good girl", and urges your head to rest against his shoulder again as he resumes writing.

For the next solid minute, you still can't speak, just gasp for breath—clinging to him helplessly in the aftershock of it.

"That was two," he says, his hand trailing lazily up and down your spine. "You're in for a long night."

You want to whimper at that, because you're not sure if you can take anything more—

"How many," you manage to breathe out, your voice rasping. "How many more."

"As many as you can take," his voice is so matter-of-fact you know the bastard is smirking. "And possibly a few more after that.”

[simpingland]

Req: Can you write something with Ewan Mitchell and his co-star (pronounced feminine) where they are on the set of season 2 and how he is surprised by every performances that fem gives (Fem's character is bad and perverse), since since the recordings of season one he was already staring at her surprised by her actings and now with Season 2 he wants to spend more time with her, plus he likes her.

The Rehearsal// Ewan Mitchell x Fem!actress

Summary: Ewan is a method actor and it has been working fine for him. But he regrets this decision when season 2 of HOTD starts with a love scene, being partner with a lovely talented actress who propaply hates him and his mathods. But nothing is better than asking for help when one needs it, right?

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

Ewan watched from the monitor, patch removed but wig still on, your close-up was impressive. One look at you and you could see all the ambitions that were going through your character's mind, and he himself regretted not having told you yet. The good news was that filming for season two had just begun, and in this new season, Ewan had the opportunity to do scenes only with you.

They shouted cut, and you immediately broke into a smile, laughing after such an intense scene. You received compliments as you were photographed to keep the raccord straight.

"Congratulations, that's a good start," the director said to you. "Remember you have a special sequence tomorrow, get a good rest."

Yes, you remembered. And Tom (who played your brother Aegon) smiled mischievously at you. It was a kissing scene with Ewan, with whom you had barely exchanged a word since the moment you were confirmed as part of the cast, a year and a half ago. You only spoke a little at the audition, which was a chemistry test, and he was a sweet, unassuming guy. When he was announced as the official actor of Aemond... it was something different. You didn't interact in the scenes in the first season, his scenes were shared more with Fabien and Tom, while you had shared scenes with Olivia and Phia (Alicent and Helaena). The chemistry your characters were supposed to have was only hinted by the placement of you both in the scene or montages of shots that you only saw once the series was released. And in the meantime, Ewan had stayed away from all those with whom he didn't share any dialogue, with the excuse of staying focused on his character. Tom had already told you numerous times that Ewan thought you were a fantastic actress, but you always responded the same way.

"If he does, let him tell me so. Then I'll be flattered.”

When the script for the second season came, both of you, in your respective homes, had your hearts skipped a beat. Your character would approach Aemond in the throne room in the middle of the night. And there they not only talk, but share a kiss that promises to go further in the following seasons. Aemond confessed his love for your character, and being that it was a story taken from the world of Game of Thrones, it was sure to end in much more intimate scenes. Normal for actors and comfortable for a cast that was so friendly and close. But with Ewan being so distant and serious? It was difficult. You didn't even dare to call him. Nor did he call you. What you did do was call Tom.

"She hasn't spoken to me once since we started filming. I've seen her look at me sometimes, like she's trying to talk to me but then, before I could say a word, she's gone quiet again. Tom...I don't think I should take being a method actor so seriously," he said to the other actor.

"It amuses me immensely to be the connecting point for both of you. Don't worry, Ewan, she's a sweetheart, and very understanding. She knows that everyone has their own procedure. So if she has respected your method, you should respect hers."

"And what is her procedure?"

"According to Phia, she loves to walk back and forth repeating her lines in a thousand ways."

Right, Ewan saw the video Phia sent around the group so everyone could see how lunatic you looked. And even there, after discovering you were being filmed, you smiled tenderly at Phia asking her to stop. What else would he have missed since you weren't talking?

You had already taken off your wig, your hair was loose and your dress had been off for quite a while. You were waiting to take off your make-up when your trailer was called. You were expecting anyone, happy to have any interaction with the wonderful team around you, but when you saw Ewan, the smile must have dropped a little.

"Sorry if I'm intruding. Is it late?" Ewan asked you as he saw your friendly greeting getting lost in the air.

It wasn't dark yet, and the next day's filming was starting early, so you genuinely didn't know what to say to him.

"Well... I have to finish off some of the lines for tomorrow.’

The lines you had to say with him, and he knew that. But since that wasn't an invitation, Ewan understood instantly and nodded.

"Well, I just wanted to tell you...it's been an awesome first day of shooting for you. It's no wonder you're a fan favorite."

That made you blush.

"Well, that means a lot coming from you."

He smiled sheepishly at you, you were taller than he was, standing on the trailer and he was on the grass a few stairs down. And yet he seemed way too big.

"I promise I'll be on time tomorrow so we'll have plenty of time to rehearse," he said, trying to get out of the strange conversation he had started.

You nodded and watched as he walked away, the patch in his hand and taking off his seatbelts. Did he come with the intention of chatting? My God, you'd had a chance to talk at length with your fellow cast member and you'd wasted it? You needed to go over the scene as much as possible!

"Ewan!" You called out to him, hanging almost on your doorstep, he turned with that agility that is so engaging on screen (and in person). "Are you done for the day?"

"I've got to get out of my costume. But...yes, I'm done."

"Would you mind..." you mumbled in an exaggeratedly loud voice for him to hear. How embarrassing. "Would you mind dropping by again to rehearse?"

Ewan stood still for a second. He watched you from afar, so affectionate and shy, totally contrary to your character, and felt a deep tenderness.

"I'll be back in half an hour," he promised you.

You looked forward to it, and you'd be lying if you didn't say that you'd put your make-up back on a bit. Ewan, on the other hand, was hurrying more than usual to remove his own clothes, forgetting to remove his fake scars in the rush that followed him. He was punctual, and in thirty and a half minutes, he was knocking on your door again.

"I really appreciate you doing this, Ewan," you said as he climbed into your trailer.

"Don't worry, it's going to be fun."

You looked at each other for a second, smiling, kind of gawking, which was nothing like the scene you had to recreate.

"How do you prepare for a scene?" You ask.

"I listen to some music. But I want to try what you do. "

He looked at you expectantly, and you suddenly felt embarrassed. Like the girls at the school function.

"So... I close my eyes, and I create a map where everything looks a little bit like the set."

"And what do we choose to be the throne?" Ewan smiled, which made you blush even more.

"Well... "There was a fully finished teacup, with the inelegantly squeezed bag next to it, dripping. You'd forgotten to clean it up completely. "That cup itself."

Ewan frowned slightly, teasingly, and nodded. The next step for you was harder to explain.

"Now, Ewan, I need some space."

He sat down on your couch, script to one side, the bastard having already memorized it all. And from there he watched live what he'd been craving for months, watching you pace back and forth. You read the annotations and your lines.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did," Ewan replied, intoning in the silky voice he gave Aemond.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." though you paced, your hands and gestures maintained theatricality, and you repeated the phrase three more times, all with trapped deliberation. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me."

"What pantomime do you mean?" replied Aemond.

Then your character stopped looking at Aemond to stare at the Throne. In this case you stopped to stare at the ugly teacup. You had to hold back a smile. Ewan looked at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been." Ewan got up from the sofa and approached you, as Aemond does with your character. "It is a crude, chaotic and ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

Then the laughter you'd been holding back escaped, unable to think of the mug as anything else. And Ewan laughed with you, all the tension disappearing instantly. Now he could understand the affection with which everyone spoke of you.

"I'm sorry, really," you said, getting serious again. "I'm sorry."

"Don't apologise, this is fun. I'm going to try your method. Shall we close our eyes?"

"That's right."

You closed them at the same time, thinking about the huge room, illuminated by a silver light that simulated the moon. And after a few seconds, Ewan opened his eyes to look at you. Although you didn't have your white hair, or the elegant dress, your eyes were the same, as beautiful and bright as they were behind the cameras. And he had the privilege of being the focus of your attention and having them in the foreground.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered close to your lips.

"That you tried at least" you whispered back.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as sharp as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

Then came the kiss. You looked into Ewan's eyes, up his nose and down to his lips. What was there left to throw yourself? Not much, but with him being so reclusive, with that being one of the few times you spoke to each other, it felt strange to pounce on him without consent. So you walked away, leaving the scene there.

"We can work this out with the director and the intimacy coordinator, if you like," Ewan suggested, a little flushed and extremely sweet.

You poured him a cup of tea while you discussed the romance that your characters might have developed over the years that the series skips. You imagined romantic scenes that might have led up to that kiss and concluded that they were a toxic couple, but possibly better than Rhaenyra and Daemon.

"You know, I love the way you act and I love that I discovered your process," he confessed. "I think the admiration part is not going to be too hard to act out."

"Oh...my process is really ridiculous, everyone laughs at me. I'm glad it at least works. But it gives me a hard time at auditions," you laughed nervously.

"Well, it's true that it's fun to watch. But it's certainly worth it. I don't think you have anything to envy the others, you're...magnetic." He said it with a seriousness that moved you, adding to his intense gaze. "I'm sorry I wasn't smart enough to tell you sooner, because I've been thinking about it since the day they put me in the same room you were in, back at the audition.”

You froze a little, so you just said what you felt in the simplest way and with the most honest smile.

"Thank you."

Ewan took the last sip of his tea and before he left you remembered one of the thousand questions you had for him.

"Is there a reason you haven't removed the scar? Something to do with method acting?"

"Scar?"

You touched his cheek, where the scar began, and Ewan understood instantly.

"Ah, gee, I completely forgot to go through makeup. I'll get a telling off tomorrow."

"Not if you sleep on it until tomorrow" you joked. "Let me help you, I love fake wounds."

You stood next to him, towering over him a little, and lifted the thin layer of silicone with the delicacy you had seen in make-up artists. You were envious of the woman who was in charge of characterising a person as curiously attractive as Ewan. He also smelled exaggeratedly good.

When you took it off, you threw it into the creepy teacup from earlier.

"I've almost run out from, the costume department before," he justified himself. You took the opportunity to wipe that part of her face with a makeup remover wipe. "I usually do this part myself..."

"I know, but I like it..."

And while you were stroking his face with the excuse of cleaning it, Ewan was watching your lips, and didn't notice that you had noticed. You pushed the wipe away, stroking his chin, and at the same time, you both pressed your lips together. A strange kiss, something special, sweet and soft. You stretched it out, standing almost still, afraid of what would happen if you broke apart. When you finally did, you looked at each other with a look of confusion, though neither you nor Ewan pulled away.

It was a dangerous idea, he was your partner, and you had been unprofessional. You broke away.

"I think you should rest. I've distracted you too much." Your tone came out agitated and Ewan rose slowly.

"No, it's all right. I liked it. I liked everything. Didn't you?" He had emphasised the word 'everything' and was looking at you with lambent eyes.

"Yes...I loved being with you."

He said goodbye with a smile of his, and you bowed at your door like a little girl. Most of the team had already gone to rest and you barely noticed.

You had to put on more concealer than usual the next day because of the lack of sleep you'd had from that strange kiss. Ewan had kept his promise and had arrived a good while earlier to re-rehearse the scene. You did it without the kiss or the lights, just with the director's instructions and with your cheeks flushed as you exchanged glances.

"Did you practice with the kiss?" the intimacy coordinator asked you.

You were completely silent. Ewan answered for you.

"Not really, maybe it's better to give a first kiss at the moment of the shot. More realism."

"Well, then I guess you've worked out the sexual tension and dynamics of your characters."

Ewan nodded and smiled, which made you smile. Had he put hours of sleep into your little meeting yesterday? Yes, he had, and he told the woman who was putting on his scar who asked him who had removed it the day before. When you returned to the set, lights on, costumes on, cameras rolling, Ewan looked at you in the distance, asking you with his eyes if you were ready. You nodded with a shy smile, and began to act when they shouted action.

Aemond, still dressed and coming from the castle library, walked into the empty throne room to watch you. You walked behind him, in a smart dressing gown, your hair loose and trying uselessly not to make a sound. Aemond then spoke aloud.

"They will never forgive our family for what I did."

You approached Ewan, who still wouldn't look at you.

"If it's any consolation, I doubt they would be willing to let us live even if we had given them the throne willingly, Aemond..." You leaned into him a little, as the director had recommended. He was so tall and so tense that you felt as safe as if you were leaning against a stone pillar. "This pantomime of repentance can only convince Mother...but not me." Then Aemond would look down to see you out of the corner of his eye, which made your character - and you - nervous.

"What pantomime do you mean?"

Then you looked at the throne, now there was no laughter to disturb you, only the terrible seat of swords before you. And Aemond was looking at it too.

"It's impossible to fool you, it always has been. It is a brutish, chaotic, ugly object, but always that which I have desired."

After a pause, he turned fully around to look at you, his height becoming primordial in that short distance. In that low light, Ewan's visible eye looked into your eyes, dropping to your lips subtly.

"Though I think I was always more subtle with another of my longings..." he whispered in his velvety tone.

"That you tried at least" you replied trying to keep your composure. If they knew how hard you were struggling not to fall to your knees at that moment they would have nominated you for an Emmy by now.

"When I get the throne I'll need someone as clever as you to accompany me. There is no woman in the seven kingdoms who compares to you."

He stroked your face gently, something that coming from Ewan was tender and expected, immensely pleasing, but then you remembered that Aemond could never be so gentle in the face of his urges, and you let your own out. You pressed yourself against him, pressing your lips together with all the assurance you had longed for the night before. You could feel Ewan intensify your kiss even more, placing his hand on your neck. All the possible kisses that had been going on in your head during the night were now dwarfed by the kiss that was happening right there. As fierce as your characters, with the longing you had just discovered that you and Ewan had shared for a year and a half.

It was only when they shouted 'cut' that you broke apart, catching your breath and barely breaking away. Some applause, chatter and comments from the team, you could hear little of what they were saying. You pulled away flushed, laughing at the sudden intensity. You looked at the director as Ewan smoothed his jacket.

"Let's look at the shot, I think it was simply perfect, congratulations."

Another round of applause, and you felt Ewan brush your unruly hair out of your face, stroking it as he ruffled your hair.

"What a pity not to have to repeat this scene..." He confessed.

"That's the thing about being so talented," you joked.

"Obviously..." he removed his patch and turned back to you to ask in a quieter voice, "although I'd love to have more private acting classes with you..."

You smiled at the hint.

"I'll give them to you if in exchange you let me remove your fake scars again."

"Deal."

[sunder-soul]

hiii cud u pl do a headcanon/oneshot where its a muggleborn reader who smhow ends up befriending the tom riddle who always seems to soft only to her, including tolerating her sassy attitude and its a study session together and they're bantering or summin? i think it wud be nice. thank you!

A/N: Girl I gotchu

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

Unsaid

Summary: By now you've got a pretty good idea why you're friends with Tom, but sometimes, when it comes up, you wonder why he's friends with you. [GN reader ★ no pronouns ★ Hufflepuff house (but ngl it doesn't really come up u just gotta trust me)] Word count: 1.2k

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

“I’m dropping out,” you announce, dumping your bag on the table and falling emphatically into the seat adjacent to Tom’s.

Tom, for his part, does not look up. His quill doesn’t even hesitate as he writes in a smooth, unbroken script across his parchment. Instead, he says: “Your bag is on my book.”

You shove it unenthusiastically to the side to reveal the open textbook he’s been working from, and then fix him with a pointed look. Tom is set up in the same little spot in the library as always, his bag at his feet and at least ten other books neatly stacked off to the side of the table. He looks (as Tom always looks) like the poster boy of adhering to the uniform dress code.

“Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” you say, slightly put out.

“I would not bother,” he says simply, leaning forward and dipping his quill in a small inkwell in front of him. “I’ve come to accept the inevitability of you telling me all sorts of things I don’t care to hear about, whether I ask about them or not.”

He resumes writing.

You kick his chair leg lightly and his quill skips sharply down the page, leaving a jolted line about an inch long off where he’d been writing the word putrescence.

This finally makes him look up, fixing you with a supremely irritated glare that’s made his whole face go tense.

You lean your elbows on the table and smile at him.

Tom’s jaw works slightly, and he takes a long breath. “What’s wrong?” he asks sarcastically.

“Well,” you say as he puts down his quill and bends to pick up his bag. “In Herbology this morning when we were cracking Wiggentree nuts, Lucy Grollen had this horrible allergic reaction and her feet swelled up so much that her shoes burst.”

“And this affects you how?” Tom drawls, diligently rubbing a Spellfriends eraser across his parchment.

You give him a scandalised look. “She’s my friend, Tom.”

He gives you a very dry look and then flips the eraser over to the purple side. “I hardly think you’d be tempted to leave the school because your friend is allergic to nuts.”

“Well she’s also my greenhouse partner,” you say dramatically, throwing yourself back in your seat, “and because she had to go to the hospital wing I had to finish the rest of the assignment alone­, and obviously by the end of class I didn’t have all our nuts cracked so Beery made me stay late to finish them. And that meant that I missed the sign up for the fieldtrip to the Menagerie of Mirabilia.”

Tom throws down the eraser and exhales in frustration. The ink remains unmoved. “You have been talking about that fieldtrip for six weeks,” he says in a clipped tone, pulling his wand from his bag. “And I have been telling you for six weeks that it was going to fill up quickly. Evanesco.”

The eraser shavings on his parchment vanish and leave both of you staring at the tenacious line of ink—which if anything, now just looks a little smudged.

His little comment about the whole six weeks thing has not left you feeling very sympathetic for him. “Wow. You have got to tell me what kind of ink you buy,” you say with a smirk as Tom tosses his wand onto the desk in frustration.

“I wouldn’t recommend it,” he says hotly, folding his arms and finally looking at you properly as he leans back in his chair. “Well?”

“Well what?”

“What happened with the fieldtrip?” he prompts irritably.

“Oh – so as I’m sure you remember, I promised Madeline I’d go with her on the fieldtrip because she’s obsessed with magizoology at the moment, so then I had to tell her I wasn’t going, and she was so upset, and I couldn't stop thinking about it because I felt so bad. So then I was really distracted in Transfiguration and of course Dumbledore notices and asks me to recite the whole definition of Amandation’s Command in front of everybody.” You sigh loudly. “So I can’t do it because I hadn't been paying attention, but then he points to the board and the definition is written right there and I just hadn’t noticed, and everyone laughed at me.”

You cross your arms too, feeling sorry for yourself. “The only solution is to drop out,” you reiterate moodily.

“This is one of your jokes,” says Tom delicately.

You narrow your eyes at him. “Yes well spotted.”

“You’ve ruined my assignment,” he says, nodding at it.

“You ruined your own assignment. With your callousness.”

Rather surprisingly, Tom snorts a laugh. “I would loathe to be my friend, to hear you describe it,” he says with suspicious ease as he extracts a new roll of parchment from his bag. “It begs the question as to why you persevere.”

“Very occasionally, you do something really nice,” you say, watching him with suspicion. Tom’s irritability rarely fades this quickly. “I just kind of zone out all the bits in-between where you’re weird and sarcastic.”

“Weird and sarcastic?” Tom repeats, lips curling. “Have you been listening to yourself since you sat down?”

“My life is ruined, and you’re worried about an assignment.”

“Your life is not ruined,” he says monotonously as he begins diligently copying over his work.

“I’m upset about this and all you care about is telling me that it’s not a big deal!”

Tom sighs curtly and looks up at you, leaning forward a bit and resting his forearms on the desk. “Your life is not ruined. Lucy Groggen is going to be fine, Wiggentree nut allergies are fairly common and the reaction doesn’t last more than an hour, the worst she’ll have to deal with is buying a new pair of shoes. Beery should never have made you complete a two-person task by yourself and it’s ridiculous that he kept you late because of his own poor class management. If Dumbledore was half the teacher that he claims to be, he might have noticed that you were upset about something and think to ask you about it, but his mistake is made all the more egregious given that he chose to single you out in front of the whole class with what sounds like a very silly little trick. And I wouldn’t worry about upsetting Madeline if I were you, because I signed you up for the fieldtrip.”

He resumes writing without another word. You stare at him, dumbfounded. A full ten seconds passes before you can rouse yourself to speak again.

“You signed me up for the fieldtrip?

Tom’s eyes remain level on his work—he’s writing at lightning speed like he’s trying to make up for the lost time. “You have been talking about it for six weeks. It seemed odd that you failed to show up.”

You look at your bag still lying dejectedly on the table in front of you and attempt to process the glowy, warm feeling spreading up through your chest. “Thanks,” you say blandly.

He just looks up at you with a glint in his eyes about halfway between wry and cynical.

“I feel bad about your assignment,” you announce.

Tom slowly smiles, this time very wryly indeed. “You have certainly changed your tune.”

You grab your bag and pull out your water bottle, placing it emphatically on the desk beside him.

Tom’s dark eyes flick from it to you, and he lifts a brow. “Is this supposed to mean something to me?”

“You have to wet a Spellfriends for it to work,” you mumble, folding your arms and resting forward on the desk.

He stares at you in a sort of frozen state of disbelief. “You mean you let me suffer through all of that for absolutely no reason?” he demands in half-subdued outrage.

“There was a reason!” you protest, smiling at him again. “It was funny.”

He blinks once, and then snatches the drink bottle off the desk, shaking his head. “You are extremely irritating,” he says icily, twisting the bottle open.

“Huh, sounds like a nightmare being my friend to hear you describe it,” you parrot back at him with a grin. “One wonders why you persevere, Tom.”

Tom pauses, and instead of the scathing look of irritation or perhaps a biting remark back, he just looks at you with an unplaceable expression like you’ve caught him off guard.

“What?” you frown, sitting up a little in concern.

Tom blinks slightly and then holds out his hand. “Pass me the Spellfriends,” he says colourlessly.

You arch a brow right back at him, and retrieve the eraser from where it’s been lying discarded for the last few minutes in front of you. “If you were wondering what I meant by the weird part in weird and sarcastic…” you say to him pointedly, placing it in his hand.

Tom silently erases the offending ink stain with a taut jaw and an irascible look darkening his eyes.

“Hey,” you say.

He ignores you entirely, sweeping the fresh shavings off his parchment and setting the eraser aside.

“Hey,” you repeat, reaching out and taking his arm.

Tom’s gaze immediately flashes to you and he goes entirely still.

“Thank you,” you tell him sincerely. “For the field trip.”

He does not immediately reply. A second later his lips part like he’s going to say something, but they close like he thinks better of it. He blinks, and then pulls his arm from yours to reach for another book. “Are you intending on actually doing work this evening, or was this visit’s entire premise just to disrupt me?”

You roll your eyes, and reach for your bag again with a smile.

･ ｡ﾟ☆: .☽ . :☆ﾟ.

[tangerinesgf]

Oh my God the dirty talk in Tomxreader getting caught was so hot 🤭. Do you think you can write something with Tom wanting reader to sit on his cock between filming? Perhaps more dirty talk and a little bit of being cock drunk?

A/N: Thank you so much for your request I hope you enjoy it! I hope it's not too short :)

Tags/warnings: smut 18+ MDNI, p in v sex, reader riding Tom, dirty talk, hints at being cockdrunk. Gn!reader, but is refered to have the body of afab. Not proofread sorryy...

Many of your friends had warned you against working with Tom Ryder. Words like selfish, idiot, narcissist and alcoholic were dropped as you told them about the new movie you were gonna film with him.

And sure you believed everything they said. Tom Ryder was a right asshole, you'd spend enough time with him to know that. Yet in a way it was different for you.

Because you were Ryder's partner. The apple of his eye.

Admittedly you had never made a movie with him before despite both of you being actors, but you were mostly excited. As was your boyfriend. You had never seen Tom this excited to get started on a project.

You were about halfway through filming the movie and to be honest it was great. Both of your schedule's aligned for the first time in forever and you got to spend more time together. With both of you being actors one of you was always somewhere half across the world, away from each other.

Filming together was like a dream come true. Tom was in a good mood which made everyone on set a lot happier as well. Sure he was still weird as hell, but he wasn't as much of an asshole as he usually was.

In these last few weeks you've seen more of each other than in the last months. Your favorite moments were spend in between filming were you could just have some time for the two of you. It had really done wonder's for your relationship

Like now as you were both in his trailer (which you slept in more often than in your own), reversing your lines in between takes. You had about an hour before your next scene and what better way then to run a few scenes... or well that was the idea.

You were rehearsing a love scene between both of your characters as Tom guided you to sit on his lap, trying to increase the intimacy. And because when so close together neither one of you had any self-control you started making out.

So now here you were, straddling Ryder's lap, his cock buried deep in inside you as you ride him. Pages of the script were discarded across the room, the entire scene forgotten. Your hands were buried inside his hair, pulling ever so slightly to get those sweet soft moans from his lips.

"I love the way you sound.." You moan softly as he bucks his hips up, hitting just the right spot. "Keep making those sounds f'me while I make you feel good."

He nods and leans forward to kiss you again. It´s sloppy, kissing you from your mouth to your jaw and your neck, his hands running over you back to pull you closer. "Faster, baby.. ah shit-" Tom groans, his hands gripping your waist.

"Nuh uh.. no helpin'." You grab his wrists and pin them down at his side while increasing the pace, trying to drive him over the edge.

"You're killing me here, darling.." Tom groans. You can tell he has to control himself not to touch you, a control he doesn't show very often. He loves touching you, woreshipping every part of your body.

"I know.. and you love it." Your walls clench around him as you feel his cock twitch inside you. "Fuck- you close? I can feel it, come on baby.. cum f'me." Somehow you find it in yourself to go just a bit faster before you feel all the tension leave his body.

"Oh god, I love you." Tom throws his head back against the chair, letting out a string of whimpers as he cums inside you. His hips buck up into you, driving you over the edge with him.

You let out a loud moan as your orgasm washes over you and you collaps on top of him. It almost feel euphoric, no man had ever made you feel this good. And he hadn't even actively done anything.

As the both of you catch your breath Tom wraps his arms around you, caressing your hair gently. "You're so good to me, darling." He mutters as he kisses the top of your head. "You alright?" He asks when he doesn't get much of a response from you.

"Yeah.. yeah just need a minute, you're a lot." You mumble quietly.

"Awh, was my cock too much for you, love? I didn't even do anything." He teases you. It's almost funny how almost immediately after finisheing his submissive attitude disappears, replaced by his normal cocky behavior.

"We still got a scene in 30 minutes, remember?" He reminds you you with a small grin on his face.

"Mhm.. just gimme a minute yeah?"

"Sure.. I'll just let you lay here with my cock still inside you. Doing nothing at all.." There's a mischievious grin on his face as he rolls his hips up, forcing a whine from your lips. "Tom.."

"You're so sensitive, baby.. alright I'll knock it off." He chuckles softly before he gives you another kiss.

"Rest. I'll wake you up, okay?" You nod in respone before falling asleep comfortably in his arms.

A/N: Thank you so much for reading, hope you enjoyed it :) Comments and reblogs are much appreciated, I live off those.

I know I'm a bit slow with the requests but if you do have any don't hesitate to send em in, I promise iĺl get to them. Love you guys <33

Taglist: @earth-elemental18 @allaroundjejje @cockete (lemme know if you wanne be removed/added)

[tarotoftheendless]

Hey, Sand Fam, I am seeing a lot of you blaming NG for the end of this series, and whereas I do think Netflix and the Sandman cast and crew are actively distancing themselves now from NG, I don't think NG is the reason Sandman is ending.

Please remember it took forever for Netflix to greenlight us even getting more or the series. They were likely going to axe it in the first place but the showrunners likely negotiated saying they had plans for a script that would end the series and *THAT* is likely what got us just one more season. That is speculation, that is a guess, but if you logically look at how S2 was handled from the start, then the end of the series was always the plan. Didn't they also call it Sandman 2 and say we are just getting more episodes here and there at the beginning of when S2 was first announced? Like it wasn't even called Season 2...

Also, with the leaked bts photos, of Lyta, the Fates and Gilbert... isn't that all stuff that is end of the comic series stuff that got filmed? And when those photos came out, I don't remember the exact date, but wasn't it just before the NG stuff came out and or literally just after it? Do you think they scrambled to write a quick script, get a location that quickly and get costumes and all that cuz they were all "Oh no, NG is a fucking creep, better end the show now"? No. Filming anything in general takes time and careful planning. It was always the plan guys.

The thing that likely did get affected by NG is how Geeked Week was handled. The bts footage and such was edited in a way to not mention NG at all. I do think that was on purpose.

The other reason I think ending the show was planned is because S2 has to do with Dream's story and his story alone. Writing a whole script like that takes time and planning. And why I think it was always the plan is because of interviews of Tom Sturridge for S1. He was abhorrent to the idea of The Sandman being only about Dream, and the idea of a movie because, if I remember Tom correctly, "how can you take just one story from The Sandman and make a film about that? The Sandman is a story about stories, not just one guy." Not the exact quote, but you get my point. S2 was always supposed to be the end because they scrapped the whole idea of making it a story about stories and wrote a *WHOLE SEASON OF A SCRIPT* about Dream instead. That was planned.

The end was always the plan. NG is not to blame for this.

The actors and crew now have room to work on bigger and better projects and The Sandman is on their resume, and regardless of NG, that will still look good for them because obviously they are not NG and they did not condone what NG did, so they will not and should not be found culpable for NG's actions at all, therefore will find bigger and better work in the future.

This is not the end of the world, this is the Death card in tarot; something must die for something new and better to be born.

The Fandom lives, the Sand Fam thrives, we are taking back the power of the work from NG and making it beautiful for us and us alone. Don't forget that. This is for us. This is will never be for NG ever again.

My ending thought is this: One of my favorite things about Star Wars: The Last Jedi is Luke's conversation with Yoda. (No, I will not be having debates about how good or bad the film is...) And Yoda talks about the lesson of failure is the greatest lesson to learn and to pass on. Not to ensure the failure of others but to teach them how to handle failure and how to grow past the failure. The last thing Yoda says to Luke that gets me to tear up every time is this; "We are what they grow beyond". And that is where I am taking my love for The Sandman and this whole Fandom. We have grown beyond NG and it is ours now. We have grown beyond him, take comfort in that.

[shadowofthesun123]

Netflix’s mixed signals about Tyler

After the latest TikTok on the official account, I decided to write this post because I completely stopped understanding their stance.

On one hand, they actively use Tyler for promotion, and I’m genuinely happy about that. Also, I think everyone would agree that they are heavily sexualizing him and using how handsome he is. There is absolutely no objective reason to have Tyler shirtless in the hospital scene except for fan service and attracting the audience’s attention.

However, if you read the comments they post supposedly on behalf of Thing, there’s a lot of negativity, hate, and even borderline shaming of people who like Tyler. It’s very strange, hypocritical, and shortsighted. On one side, they are boosting Tyler’s presence, using his appearance, and on the other, they are mocking and shaming the fans who like him. Honestly, it’s gotten to the point where I don't even want to visit their page anymore...

I don't think they would be sexualizing him so much if he were intended to be a full-on villain. It could easily turn into a PR disaster in a teen show where teenagers are choosing their role models. I remember there was a scandal around Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets because Tom Riddle was “too attractive.” I doubt Netflix wants a repeat of that situation.

However, their last TikTok with the almost accusatory “Reminder: this is who you fangirling about” caption made me really angry.

I think this is more the personal stance of their social media manager (maybe even a secret Wenclair shipper). I highly doubt he has access to the season two script and is most likely posting based on season one only.

Still, all of this is very upsetting.

What do you think?

[lifewithdavefarts]

DaveFarts - Episode 32 “A Worthy Opponent” [Episode List] Dave is back at the warehouse and filming another short “fart porn” clip for Greg. As he keeps blasting Tom, his co-worker and fart sniffer, a masked man steps into the set…

Greatly influenced by this suggestion.

Reminder: Tom was introduced in Episode 14.

POV: Dave

Alright, just like I did last time, it’s all good.

Getting paid to fart in someone’s face? Easiest money I’ll ever make in my life.

My friend Greg, the wannabe movie director, wanted me for another fart porn film.

Yes, that’s an actual thing, this is my life now… a small part of it at least.

You know me, I’m a chill dude, though before accepting such task some months ago I wanted to make sure there were some lines that we shouldn’t cross. To be honest, however, the more I worked with Greg, the more I got used to all of this gross kinky stuff.

I mean, that sounds hypocrite, I’m aware: I’m an incredibly skilled straight farter who continuously face-farts his friend and roommate, fully knowing the he has a fart fetish, and even before that I’ve always been a proud farter, and rightfully so.

Also, I spend too much time on the Internet, so I’m well-versed in gross stuff.

With Tim, however, it’s different.

Here there are cameras, people telling me how I need to fart (seriously!), people I barely know but, truth to be told, who gives a shit? It’s just business, a business that revolves about farting, so you could say that my ass shits gold, almost literally.

Plus, I already got a Tim in my fart-victim collection: a Tom always sounded like the next logical step, the next Infinity Sniffer. You can starting calling me Thanus at this point.

So here I am, back at the warehouse, in this fake living room, wearing a pair of shabby grey sweatpants, cautiously sitting on Tom’s face. 

Tom, my co-worker and professional fart sniffer.

He was lying on this couch in the middle of the set, face up, his nose perfectly aligned with my asscheeks already.

He didn’t say a word or move a muscle: this guy is a pro for real. I still don’t know if he actually has a fart kink or not. What I do know is that I did blast him even when we weren’t working once. 

What can I say? My farts are too good to be wasted!

As of now, I sat on him and adjusted my position, spreading my legs wide, to ease the next fart out and, according to the script, “to showoff my manly bulge”. Thanks, I guess?

I lean just a bit and I effortlessly rip the first fart of the session, a natural blast I’ve been brewing for a couple of minutes. The warm gas passed through the fabric of my sweatpants and soon Tom’s face was imbued with my poisonous flatulence.

“Fuck yeah.” I said, as the loud blast kept going. “Don’t choke on that you fag.”

Hey, I didn’t write the script!

I could feel and hear Tom taking deep whiffs of that fart. I wiggled my ass in response, an improv which he seemed to enjoy, both professionally and… kinkly?

This blast lasted around 6 seconds. A good one don’t get me wrong… but you know what I’m truly capable of…

I noticed Greg from behind the camera giving me a thumbs up, mouthing my next line.

“Alright you filthy slave, you better open up.”

Tom obeyed. I leaned once again and spread my legs even wider, my anus aligning with my co-worker’s mouth.

Another home-run, another loud fart, I didn’t even need to push that much. I’m ridiculously good at this, I swear. It feels stupid to brag about farting skills but trust me, as soon as I finish ripping one of my huge farts, my body is already brewing the next one. I got a quick reload.

Tom’s face was shaking and this time, for real, he almost choked on my gas, as I felt him move. And when even Tom, who’s usually stone-cold while working, flinches, I know I did a good job.

I saw Greg talking to his assistant: he seemed angry. In that moment, behind me, the fake door of the fake living room opened without warning. Was this an unscripted moment?

I stopped farting and turned around, kind of forgetting that I was sitting on Tom’s face.

Someone stepped into the set, another man, around my age, tall and skinny. I couldn’t see his face as he was wearing some kind of black ski mask. His clothes were as casual as mine (a red t-shirt and a pair of blue skinny jeans).

He didn’t look friendly, yet the moment he saw me, he kind of froze on the spot for a few moments.

Is Greg making a farter-slasher movie all of the sudden? Not that I’d complain! Sounds camp-y enough to me.

I gave an inquisitive look to my director-friend, who promptly stopped filming.

“C-cut!” he yelled. “Alright, we got our first farts.” he said, as he walked towards me. “N-now, make room for the other farter of this session.” 

I gave him a puzzled look. “Other farter?”

“Duh!” Greg replied, as he pulled me out of the set, impatiently. “You thought you were the only person capable of ripping ass?”

Honestly, kind of?

I mean, I don’t think about farts 24/7, but I do know that I’m pretty good at it. Ask Tim.

“Are you replacing me?” I bluntly asked.

Not gonna have a fight over… farting, that’s for sure. And I’m not even mad, I was just taking those extra bucks for granted.

“Don’t be jealous.” he replied, as he let me sit next to him, next to the director himself, as if I was one of the crew.

I watched as this masked guy stepped on the couch and squatted over Tom’s head, just as the poor guy was getting used to fresh air again. I guess this is his lucky day, assuming that he does have the kink.

“Action!” I almost went deaf when Greg screamed that.

The masked guy was basically another master and he acted accordingly.

“Here you go, fag. Got something for you to taste…” 

The fart that followed was very loud and echoed in the whole warehouse. On one hand, when I’m not the one torturing a poor soul with farts, yeah, it’s pretty gross. On the other, as a man, I gotta tip my imaginary hat to a fellow talented farter. The blast was nowhere as long as mine, but holy shit.

This other “master” was way more dominant than I was, way more natural I’d say.

“If you wanted a master, you could just ask…” I whispered into Greg's ear, sounding way more flirty than I intended to be, which almost made me laugh.

“You can’t be a master like him.” he firmly replied. “You’re too nice.”

Should I be offended? I really don’t know anything anymore at this point.

“Fire in the hole!” the masked master yelled, just as he ripped another loud fart down Tom’s throat.

I admit this guy’s voice sounded quite familiar, despite his best effort at trying to sound much deeper.

“Do we know this guy?” I asked Greg. The question almost startled him.

“Uhm. No idea.”

Ok, liar ahead. Clearly we know this guy then.

I will get to the bottom of this… after I put this masked guy to his place.

POV: Tom

Fuck. 

Dave’s farts were already impressive, but this masked guy’s blasts are really hard to endure, really pushing the limits of my kink. Those farts sound utterly gross, almost wet, and they smell horribly. I like working with Dave because, among other things, his roaring ass is loud but when it comes to stench, I can easily inhale those.

This guy… I have no idea who he is, Greg refused to introduce us for some reason, but I decided to trust him: I think I made a mistake. The rough surface of his skinny jeans is almost scraping my face.

Another fart erupted right into my nostrils, renewing the already terrible stench. It smells like… spoiled milk? I don’t know, it’s nauseating, I feel like I’m drowning in a sewer. I’m always very calm and composed when I’m… working, but I wasn’t ready for this I admit it.

“You’re such a bitch, I knew you couldn’t handle it.” the man said, ripping another loud, short rip.

If this guy doesn’t get up soon, I’m probably gonna choke in my own puke.

“Alright, that’s enough, get the fuck out of here.”

I heard Dave say, walking towards us, and I was relieved.

The masked man got up, my eyes adjusting to the spotlight shining over the set. I took a deep breathe of (relatively) fresh air, but anything was better than that. 

I managed to recognize Dave’s silhouette, towering over me.

“That was cute. Now let me show how a pro does it.”

Great. I’m basically the city you see in the background of kaijū movies while the monsters fight each other. You know the city, right? The city that usually gets completely leveled by the huge creatures?

I guess that’s my role for today.

Let’s get it over with.

As I said, Dave’s farts are huge but I’d take anything over that other guy’s gas.

I quickly took more deep breaths… before letting Dave sit on me again.

POV: Dave

“That was cute. Now let me show how a pro does it.”

I don’t know who this guy is, but if he really wants to do this, a fuckin’ fart challenge, then he’s gonna get blown away.

Well, not him, rather, my good pal right here on the couch.

“Alright…” I whispered to Tom. “Get ready bro. I’m gonna rip some huge ones and act like an asshole for a bit.”

I earned a puzzled look from him. “An asshole?” he paused for a moment. “But… you’re too nice.”

Oh great, now the sub tells me how lovey-dovey I am, perfect!

I stepped on the couch, not caring how my feet was crushing Tom’s chest, and squatted over his face, my fabric-clad anus tickling the tip of his nose. As I said, I’m always brewing a big one, and having a quick cheeseburger before coming here surely helped.

Once again, effortlessly, my ass started roaring, loud and unstoppable. As I kept pushing this one out, I maintained eye-contact with the mysterious masked challenger, who could only watch haplessly as I showed him what real talent looks like.

“Open wide, fag. This is far from over.”

Tom took it like a champ, inhaling deeply for the camera -I don’t even know if we started filming again. 

All I know is that my farting skills are a sight to behold… and to sniff, in Tom and Tim’s case at least.

Ahah… I’ll never understand this gross kink, but I gotta admit, if I had this fetish, and my best bro and roommate was, well, me, I’d probably be as thirsty as Tim is. So yeah, in a disgusting way… I get it.

And just like that, 12 seconds passed. Long, but not as long as my best ones, I can do even better than this… but I play fair so, after brushing my sweaty sweatpants ass on Tom’s face, I stood up and crossed my arms, eyes glued on my rival. 

“Your move, beanpole.” 

It’s ridiculous how seriously I’m taking all of this, but I can get quite competitive.

The masked master laughed and… lied on the floor. He held one leg up… that’s a position I’m quite familiar with. Surprisingly enough, he started sucking air in, right through his jeans. That’s a great talent I gotta say, I thought I was the only one who could fart on command so easily. 

A worthy opponent, at long last!

After a few seconds, the man stood up, proud and tall and, just like I did earlier, treated Tom as if he was part of the couch, and sat on his face. His eyes glued on me, I could tell there was a smug mile making fun of me under that ski mask.

The fart that followed was quite impressive and loud, but still not as massive as the ones I’m able to produce. This guy was good, no doubts about it. I’m pretty sure Tim would fall in love with him (the thought of that made me visibly laugh, putting a dent in the menacing aura I was trying to convey).

You know what, fuck this. It’s not worth it. 

But since I’m already here, and I’m able to rip huge farts both naturally and on command, I guess I could simply… well… join the fun, you might say.

I’m sure Tom will understand.

POV: Tom

The masked guy’s fart, despite being on command, was as foul as the one before. Dave’s blasts weren’t a cakewalk by any means, and they’re still much louder, deeper and stronger overall, but whatever this guy ate was doing numbers in his stomach. He was wearing a pair of skinny jeans but he could very well be naked for how much my nostrils were burning. 

The stench of Dave’s previous farts mixed with the rotten eggs-flavored gas this guy’s anus was blowing in my face and, truly, I started to think that this was a big test that Greg set up just for me, for some insane reason. If I survive this, I’m gonna kick his ass.

After around 9 seconds, the flatulence’s loudness faded out, essentially turning into a classic silent-but-deadly.

The man raised his ass just a bit, to make sure I could breath a bit of fresh air before the next one.

I turned my head and I could see Dave approaching the couch again.

Okay, it’s the other kaijū’s turn I assume.

Funnily enough, this is actually good ne-

...

Wait.

Why isn’t the other guy stepping aside?

“If it’s a show you want, Greg, a show you’ll get.” Dave boasted.

The farter above me finally moved, but just a bit, his ass still covering half of my face, hovering over my mouth.

The reason he moved, however, wasn’t altruistic by any means: instead, he had to make room for Dave’s ass, which ended up being planted directly onto my eyes instead.

Just... just fuckin’ do it you gassy bastards.

“Hey fag, it’s your lucky day.” the masked guy said.

“Good thing you have two nostrils: one of each anus.” Dave said.

Whether they were improvising or not wasn’t important, because their asses certainly weren’t.

Dave’s ass started speaking first, erupting his deep warm gas into my eyes. Mere seconds later, the other ass started talking as well, its fart being more high pitched. The sounds mixed together like a symphony and after a few moments I couldn’t tell which anus was being louder, ‘cause they both were. 

I became part of the couch as those two asses kept crushing me, farting loudly. My face couldn’t endure that barrage of farts any longer, as the farters kept cycling between either loud series of farts, or single long ones. The stench... I felt like they were taking a shit on me, I could taste that thick gas and even guess what they ate for lunch.

It was getting hot, too hot, and I started breathing more heavily, which only meant I got to ingest more of that poisonous gas. 

And yet, my massive boner betrayed my disgust.

While my eardrums were getting crushed by those farts, I could still manage to recognize Dave’s fart being the loudest: the man found a worthy opponent, sure, but he still owns the crown, no doubts about it.

“And for the big finale…” I heard the King say.

Dave lowered his sweatpants, exposing his sweaty bare ass (the masked farter kept his jeans on instead), and ripped a short, yet very loud toot, drops of sweat being blown onto my face and teary eyes (for the smell).

The two remained there for a few seconds, finally in silence from both ends, letting me inhale those last particles of gas, even though I’m pretty sure my skin merged with their farts on sub-atomic level, then they finally got up and shared a high-five.

Much to my surprise, the two men then turned back to me and helped me sit down, and they both high-fived me as well.

I guess a fart master is nothing without someone willing to sniff it all.

I appreciate the respect.

The mutual respect.

POV: Dave

After taking a much-needed shower and putting my civilian clothes back on (my usual dark brown hoodie and a pair of loose jeans), I cleared things up with Greg. 

He admitted he messed up things up with the schedule, and that indeed there was another “master” audition today, but he really enjoyed our improv and filmed everything, and thus the editors are pretty satisfied with what we managed to film today.

He also told me that, indeed, the mysterious farter is “a common friend” who didn’t want to be recognized.

No hard feelings with Tom either, obviously.

Now, time to tie up one last loose end.

I went outside, on the back of the warehouse, where I knew I could find my masked rival. He was checking his phone sitting on a shabby couch, an old prop that the crew moved here after they bought a new one for the set.

Basically, glorified comfy garbage.

“Hey, fire-in-the-hole-guy! I knew I’d find you here… that’s there they put the trash after all.” I said, with a smug smile.

The man shook his head and laughed. “Greg told you?” he asked.

I walked towards the couch and sat next to him, wrapping my right arm around his shoulder.

“You thought I woudn’t recognize your beautiful eyes, Adam?” I joked, acting all flirty (and hopefully annoying).

He  punched my shoulder and took his mask off.

Indeed, it was Adam all along.

He laughed a bit more.

“I didn’t know you were working with Greg.” he said. “Finally, you can make money from the one thing you're good at!"

“Very good at.” I corrected him.

I was going to fart to prove my point, but Adam seemed worried about something.

“I kind of needed those extra bucks you know...”

“Why is everything gravitating towards farts lately…” I thought out loud.

“What was that?” he asked.

“Nothing, forget about it.” I quickly said. “Extra bucks you said?”

“Yeah, as gross as it sounds, I thought I could make some quick money out of… whatever Greg’s doing here.”

“Hey, not judging bro!” I reassured him. “I mean, I’ve been doing this for a couple of months.”

“Does Dana know?” he asked.

“Nah, I didn’t tell anyone. Not even Tim, he’d probably be jeal-“ 

I bit my tongue just in time, even though I didn’t really think he’d get jealous. I was just trying to make a joke I swear!

“Jealous?” my friend inquired. “Jealous of what?”

“…Uhh… jealous of my success, obviously!”

Adam didn’t seem too interested in the conversation anyway, luckily enough, so he didn’t find anything suspicious about my not-so-harmless joke about my roommate.

“That’s envy, not jealousy, you idiot.” he observed.

Never mind.

A few dozens of seconds of silence followed. Adam wasn’t exactly a talkative guy, and he does have a job and all, but if he needs extra bucks, maybe I could help.

“I’m sure we can arrange something with Greg.” I stated.

“Mh?” 

“Yeah, you can fart on Tom on Tuesdays, while I can do it on Wednesdays.”

We stared at each other for a few seconds before bursting into laughter.

“I can’t believe we’re talking about this.” Adam admitted.

“Yeah.” I patted his shoulder. “From great farts, come great responsibility.”

We remained there, on that smelly (not because of us) couch, for a few more minutes, as if all that fart-talk was the most mundane thing in the world.

“Doing something tonight?” Adam asked.

“Dana and Tim are out of town, so probably nothing. You?”

“There’s a good pub a few blocks from here. Care for a beer?”

“Always.” I simply said, as we both stood up, and started marching towards our new destination.

“Easy bro.” Adam said. “I’m not gonna drag your drunk ass back home.”

“I can handle way more beer than you, pal!” I said.

“Yeah, in your dreams maybe.” he replied.

“Alright. Ready to lose against me for the second time today?” I threatened him.

“Lose?” he scoffed. “It was literally just far-“ 

I cut him off by ripping a huge, natural blast, staring at him with a smug grin. The fart easily echoed in the alley and I’m pretty sure they heard it downtown. It was short and sweet, you might say.

4 loud, proud seconds.

“I’m sorry.” I said. “You were saying?”

Adam laughed in response. “Fine, you won whatever that was back in the warehouse.” he admitted. “But I’m still not gonna drag your sorry drunk ass back home later.”

You know me, I’m a chill guy, but if you tease me, I can get very competitive.

I again wrapped my arm around his shoulder: “If it’s a show you want, Adam, a show you’ll get.”

Nah… maybe I’m too nice.

The End

[falafel14]

Jack Wolfe as Gabe Goodman

So I've had a few "Tell me everything!" responses to my recent post about the Donmar Warehouse's stunning new production of Next to Normal. Knowing the audience here, I'll narrow my focus to writing about what I know my fellow 'Six of Crows' fans will most want to hear - Jack's role as Gabe. I won't be recapping the show itself, as I assume most folks reading this will have listened to the soundtrack, read the script, or watched a Broadway bootleg. Or at least I hope so, because below you will find MAJOR SPOILERS for Next to Normal and specifically the Donmar's staging of it.

Gabe is introduced to us as the Goodman's teenage son, who seemingly has a close affectionate relationship with his mother, Diana, but frosty relationships with his father Dan and sister Natalie, neither of whom acknowledge his presence. About thirty minutes in we are shown exactly why. Diana brings out an 18th birthday cake when the family have Nat's boyfriend Henry over for dinner and it is revealed that today would have been Gabe's birthday...if he'd been alive. But Gabe died when he was a baby and Diana has only been imagining him growing up all these years.

Up until this point, Jack has been playing Gabe as a cheeky rebellious teenager, but when he slinks back on stage to blow out the candles on his cake, he becomes a much more ethereal and impish presence. In I Am The One, his expression transforms from sweet and devoted when singing to his mom, to menacing and malevolent when singing to his dad. Gabe manifests as different personas for each member of his family and it's thrilling to watch as Jack shifts between them all. When Natalie comes downstairs to sing Superboy and the Invisible Girl we see Gabe as the cocky conceited older sibling, who seems to revel in being their mother's favorite.

In her next therapy session, Diana is asked to speak about her son and this is when we get Gabe's showstopping I'm Alive solo. This number really did raise the roof. I'll admit when I saw videos of Jack singing it at Tom Kitt's concert, I was worried he wasn't giving the song the necessary attack. But on stage he goes absolutely full-throttle with it. He starts at the top of the stairs with a mic stand, looking like the frontman of a rock band, then he brings the mic down, roaming all over the floor. At one point in the song, Natalie and Dan have an argument and Gabe comes to stand between them, looking amused as he passes the mic between them. However Gabe starts to lose some of his swagger as Diana's doctor suggests that - as 18 is the age that children typically leave home - maybe Diana should think about her son this way and finally let him go.

In the next scene, Diana is in the kitchen, clearing out Gabe's things. She holds up a baby-grow and then starts playing a music box she used to use to help Gabe to sleep. Gabe comes down the stairs with a rucksack and duffle bag, like he's a kid being kicked out of the house by his parents. Diana can't seem to go through with it as she pulls him into a dance and they end up hugging with Gabe's head tucked under his mother's chin, like a needy child. This leads into There's a World, a hauntingly beautiful song with a very sinister undertone as we learn this is Gabe leading Diana towards a suicide attempt. This song and Catch Me I'm Falling are an excellent display of Jack's high range (he'd make a wonderful Orpheus in Hadestown - the UK production is coming next year, so...please??)

Following the suicide attempt, Diana is given shock therapy and consequently loses her memories of the last eighteen years. In the early part of Act 2 and for the song Aftershocks, Gabe is up in one of the upstairs rooms, like he's been locked in a cell - not gone, but no longer able to get to Diana. When Diana finds and plays Gabe's music box, there's this very chilling sight of Gabe's silhouette, his hands pressing to the screen, as he sings along to the melody. The lighting here is eerily reminiscent of a sonogram. When Diana regains her memory of her lost son, Gabe breaks free of the room, comes down the stairs to sing his I'm Alive (Reprise) from on top of the kitchen counter. After his wife's relapse, Dan crumbles to the floor, his back pressed to the kitchen counter. Gabe disappears behind the other side of the counter, and (I'm told, I couldn't see from my angle) he sits in the same position as Dan. They both stay like this for about 15mins while scenes with Diana, Nat and Henry take place.

As Diana leaves, Dan finally rises from the floor and begins singing his I am the One (Reprise). In other videos of this song that I have seen, Gabe is played quite aggressively, stalking around Dan, goading his father into acknowledging him. Jack does this scene very differently and effectively. He stays behind the counter, his eyes downcast, his manner meek as if quietly pleading for his father's attention. When Dan yells out "Why didn't you go with her?!" Gabe leaps up onto the counter and throws his arms around Dan, desperately clinging to him. When they get to the chorus, Dan turns round to face Gabe, gripping his arms. Then at the end, Dan staggers back and tearfully says his son's name for the first time. When Gabe responds with his "Hi Dad", Jack's face his full of shocked awe. He plays it like a child realizing the father he thought hated him, loved him all along. It's a devastating moment that had everyone in tears.

After the song, Dan reaches out a hand towards Gabe, but he stops as Natalie comes downstairs. Dan tells Nat her mother has left and Nat asks him - "So it's just me and you for now?" and there's a hesitation where Dan glances at Gabe, who is still sitting on the counter. When Dan finally answers yes, it's just the two of them, Gabe's expression is accepting, not resentful like earlier in the show. As he leaves to go upstairs, Gabe gently touches Nat's hand, almost like an apology. Natalie gives the slightest reaction, as if she is sensing something. It's a beautiful resolve to Gabe's role, and when he appears for the last time for his verse in Light, he no longer feels like a malevolent spirit, but more like this serene angel watching over his family as they all try to heal and go on with lives.

This is honestly a star-making performance from Jack as a young musical theatre actor. And as much as I want Jack and the other Crows actors to be off filming their spinoff show once the strikes are resolved, I also feel strongly that Jack belongs on the stage. Between his acting, his presence and his vocals, he's sure to be a performer in demand in the West End. Here's hoping there's award nominations to come. He's deserving of them.

[jechristine]

Just finished watching Tom’s recent Ladbible video:

Do you think his self-proclaimed dyslexia and ADHD could be a main factor in his poor career? He says he doesn’t read many books and struggles to focus when he does. How does reading scripts or learning lines work? Is this why he can’t discern good writing vs bad and pick well crafted projects? Compared to his peers, he does seem to be less intelligent and educated and doesn’t seem to want to fix this. In this interview, he makes fun of himself for reading at a nursery rhyme level. I guess this is if he looks stupid or makes a mistake, he already insulted himself, self defense mechanism. But this learning disability also may be the reason he goes for more physical roles. He feels like he knows his body and movement better. It makes sense he does carpentry and golf too. Idk but he clearly is insecure and has self-doubt in his lack of intelligence. He even said he couldn’t be a vet or teacher “with a brain like his.” I guess I can commend him for not faking it. He definitely knows that the public and industry perception of him is just a “golden retriever with nothing going on in its head or an air head that spoils everything” and he decided to lean into it. anyways, so do you think these issues of his intellectualism is the big reason why he has a lackluster career? You seem to be very big on education and learning, so do you think he can eventually overcome this somehow?

What poor career are you talking about, Anon😭

Most actors are pretty mid when it comes to intelligence, if you ask me. Tom’s no worse, and he seems to have a lot of emotional intelligence. My read is that he doesn’t tend to read scripts first because at the granular level scripts arent that important to him; he seems to prioritize signing on to projects based on who else is involved and/or whether it’s a new challenge for him (from 30,000ft).

But he’s doing just fine!

[kazuo-n-crinan]

Finally, and without further ado... Rowan Duval, from Crème de la Crème! I'm thinking of doing a second page like I did with TWC's Val Batra.

This post was one of the first posts I ever made and it was about him. Cdlc holds a special place in my heart because it was the first CoG novel I played, and I love everything about it: the writing, the setting, the characters. It's just a wonderful work.

Ok, so his face Rowan is inspired on Philip Kampfer (those black&white photos) and Aaron Shandel (in Vogue Hommes). They have the sort of sharp, elegant features I want Rowan to grow into. But because I wanted to make his original/younger version more "animesque", I imagined a Klein Moretti (Lord of Mysteries) mixed with Fanon Tom Riddle - the black haired, red eyed one. Some artists that really get the vibe I was going for are @4_TANB and @chome_gm (I love their drawings) (check them out)

I did the uniform based on the CdlC logo and following the game descriptions, but it was hard to get the texture right. I think it looks pretty nice tho! I specifically love Sai's acuarela filter on Rowan!

I used this base for the bowing motion but I can't for the life of me find the orignal poster.

His tie sports a Merovingian or Ediety Necktie Knot, which I found on Pinterest and spend the last 30 minutes looking for a source. The reason for this is that it suits Rowan's personality, as he won't pass the opportunity to show off without breaking uniform. I also wanted to demonstrate that he knows how to fasten the noose around his neck and tie it in a pretty knot too!

Rowan is wearing Cap Toe Boots because: 1. He was born and raised in the bucolic countryside, so he isn't neglecting his quality boots for anything. 2. As he isn't about to purchase new shoes for every ocassion, he has to make do with his old, battered pair- keeping the shoes presentable is a testament to his resourcefulness. 3. They are as fashionable and versatile as he is.

His signature is written in Chopin Script / Flaemische Kanzleischrift Font by Typographer Mediengestaltung. I wanted to use something elegant and in cursive to exemplify his calligraphy skill, and then I painted it golden because he's a show off. The font is free for personal and commercial use, much as Rowan himself is during CdlC 🙃

The background pic is from FreeP!c, I wanted to go for something red and smoky because Rowan is all about smoke and mirrors. Originally, the idiom came from the biography How the Good Guys Finally Won: Notes from an Impeachment Summer, published in 1975, by American political journalist James Breslin. Breslin described politics as the theatrical use of "mirrors and blue smoke" to make people see what they wish to see- in that way, I wanted to hightlight Rowan's ambition to join Westerlind politics (in a sort of revenge against Lord Krause's fraudulent campaign) and use his characteristic red color to contrast the "blue mirrors and smoke"... does it make sense?

As his name implies, Rowan is represented by Rowan Berries, and I also indentify him with a crow, because of the physical resemblance, the taste for shiny things (Rowan collects jewelry) and being overall smart and goofy. So I collaged the photograph of a crow mid-flight (allegedly by Henk Laverman but I can't find it in his site) next to a rowan tree branch (by SvitakovaEva).

[goldlockets-and-redwine]

You're The Worst | Chapter 1

Pairing: Touya Todoroki x Reader

Word Count: 875 words

Summary: Paw's and Claw's has a fun staff. However, the nosy bad boy, Touya, loves to pick on you. What will happen when he notices the array of bruises hidden under your sweatshirts? Maybe he isn't so bad after all.

Author's Note: So, this fic idea has been in my mind for a while. I hope everyone likes it. This will be a multi-chapter fic as I don't have a ton of time to write. Oof. Please be patient with me. Also, I inserted my cat Thomas because it's almost been a year since he passed, and I think of him every day. I know. So self-indulgent.

TW: Domestic Violence (Not from Touya), Fem!Reader, Violence in general (There will be a fight, not in this chapter though.), drinking, smoking, cursing. Let me know if I missed anything!

“That looks like shit.”

Good god, I wish he would just shut up. This is the third time today he’s butted into my work.

“No, it looks great Touya. You’re just an ass with shit handwriting. Jealous much?” We looked over my work. The sign looked great honestly. I really outdid myself this time. In delicate script it read “Tom” adorned with little hearts around the name. I put up the sign on Tom’s’ kennel, a large grey and white cat sitting at the farthest possible corner of the kennel away from the door. “Do you have his bio?”

“Of course, what am I? Incompetent?” He made quick work of putting up his bio underneath the name card I made. He typed his up like normal. I gazed sadly at the big tom cat sitting in the cage. “Hey doll, he’ll get adopted. You always get too attached.”

I grimaced at the pet name. He always looks for a way under my skin. However, he took it upon himself to never call me by name. I need to come up with my own for him. Maybe he’ll leave me alone if I come up with something heinous.

“Some of us have hearts, jackass.” Wait, that one fits. Still not original enough. I glanced at him to see him already staring at me. If looks could kill. You would think working in a shelter there would be nice coworkers here. Everyone else was nice. Not this guy. His intimidating look didn’t help his case. Tattoos were everywhere but the one on his face gets the most frowns from potential adopters. The row of flames over his left brow. Wait is that… “Touya, did you redye your hair? You should do a better job of not getting that shit on your skin. You look insane.”

“Why you lookin’ at me so hard? Like what you see?” My face was already showing my irritation before, but now I could feel it twist in disgust.

“No. The hair dye stains are really not doing it for me.” I do a swift 180 degrees and make my way out of the cat room and into the lobby once more. “Hey Toga! Any new applications come in?” Her face lit up as she looked up at me. Her sharp canines stuck out as she smiled.

“(Y/N)! We had one come in for Mochi!” She was practically jumping out of her chair. “Dabi! Come and look at the place!” Touya leaned over the counter and looked down above the monitor as I walked around the desk. It was a beautiful house in suburbia with a huge fenced in back yard. “Mochi will love it, don’t ya think?”

“He’ll love it little vamp.” I said. My eyes hovered over the screen to notice the time. “You should head out. It’s 5:30! You know the boss won’t be happy about you staying over too much.”

Toga pouted, but I was right. Tomura gets so pressed when she stays over. It must be that big brother dynamic. She got up to gather her things for the evening and shut down the computer. “He’ll be fine, but I’ll tell him you guys said hi!” With that she gave me a big hug and skipped towards the door and out to the parking lot. Touya turned and stared at me as soon as he had locked the door. Without saying a word I got to work cleaning the lobby. Working with animals was messy and there was a mix of dog and cat hair being swept up. I heard Touya’s heavy boots moving towards the hallway leading to the dog kennels. I instantly relaxed and continued my chores, completely blocking out my thoughts.

-

“Doll,” My body was on autopilot as I put away the cleaning supplies. “Don’t ignore me doll. It’s time to bail.” I quickly finished putting things up and grabbed my bag. Both our footsteps synced as we made our way to the door. Touya held the door open. “Ladies first.” I could hear the cockiness in his voice. He wasn’t going to get a reaction out of me so late in the day. My car’s taillights blinked as I unlocked it. Today was a hot one. The evening sun was shining on me. I pushed up the sleeves to my sweater and was nearly to my car when I heard Touya’s deep voice closer to me than expected. “That’s a nasty bruise.”

The sweaters I wore for the last 6 months were to avoid these questions. It was no secret Kai, my boyfriend, wasn’t the best guy. His record was a mile long. No one would know he mistreated me, however. Kai made a good show of being a loving boyfriend while also being a piece of shit in every other aspect of his life. He won me over with gifts and treated me like a princess. He said I was his perfect girl. Do men treat perfect girls like this?

“Mind your business.”

Touya’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not a dumbass, (y/n).” With that he got in his black 5.0 mustang and pulled out of the parking lot leaving me standing next to my car.

[saltineofswing]

ANOTHER EARTH, FILE 003 – KILLER MOTH

And Here We Find That Most Noble of Nature's Creatures... The Moth

Providing a service to all the people on the internet who think that Killer Moth should wear thigh-high boots. That's, like, everybody, right?

Writeup & gadgets below.

Each page of the file above has its script in the alt text for the image! I thought this would be a fun way to spruce up the write-ups. They won't all be this long, but the format I chose for this gimmick gives me a lot of room to run. Plus, this one is a pretty dramatic deviation from baseline. If you are a Drury Walker fan... I'm sorry for what I did to your boy.

I just thought it would make a really cool concept to bring Killer Moth back to his roots as a Batman hard counter – long before Hush, or Prometheus, or Wrath, or any 'a those fucking jabronis. And I thought, what better way to do that than to mirror Bruce's life experience? What if Cameron Van Cleer never got retconned into Drury Walker? What if Cameron Van Clear had a son?

I mostly go over that in the file above. What I will tell you here, is that I originally did this design for him to appear as an 'NPC' in my fiancé's superhero tabletop campaign (the one with Visage, also ultimately the genesis for me starting the Another Earth project). It is sort of a beautiful risotto of all our favorite superhero genre tropes, settings, and characters.

I wanted to swing his costume all the way in the opposite direction from the unserious throw-up of jumbled colors and patterns (which I love) – make it melodramatic and 'intimidating', which I think becomes goofy in its own way.

I gave the character some traits that I feel make him more of an 'anti-Batman' than, like, Hush or Prometheus or the Joker; Batman's 'Dark Mirrors' tend to just boil down to 'this guy is CRAZY and he's JUST as CLEVER as BATMAN, but he KILLS PEOPLE!' I don't really feel that's an 'Anti-Batman', though, it's just a crazy guy who is super clever and kills people.

This version of Killer Moth shares Bruce's core 'dead parent' motive and 'wealth allowed him access to high-level training' means, but where Bruce is selfless and brave but violent, angry, self-destructive, Cameron is not at his core a violent person; he takes good care of himself; and he is highly pragmatic and will usually bail when things get too tough.

Cameron killed the man who killed his father, and in doing so he achieved closure for himself; Bruce couldn't do that, and so he will never know whether or not it would give him peace. Ironically I think that Cameron is probably more stable than any of the 'Anti-Batmans'. All this isn't quite a job to him, it's more like a priority hobby he is very passionate about (running CleerCorp is his 'job', which he takes seriously – again, where Bruce doesn't even really engage with the management of Wayne Enterprises beyond where it can serve his needs as Batman). Making him a businessman who believes in the idea that the cape community is a market system unto itself, and therefore requires balance on both sides, was a cool way to justify him being sort of morally flexible... again, mirroring Bruce's moral rigidity.

Five songs off of my Killer Moth playlist:

I'm Designer – Queens of the Stone Age

Mojo – Peeping Tom

Dog Eat Dog – Weird Al

Madcap – clipping.

Do Not Go Quietly Unto Your Grave – Morphine

Next... how about somebody who ain't in the Batfamily, huh?

[snowblack-charcoalwhite]

I can't help but cringe hard at that bts video from ep6, (Aemond and Alicent scene), when Olivia says that Alicent tries to reach to Aemond and to whatever has left of his heart (I'm paraphrasing it) but it's to no avail. So, It seems that the narrative that Aemond is a heatless monster continues, even the actress supports it. Like, let him be the monster all you want, bu at least give him someone with whom he can be more than a one dimensional villain, and Alicent as his mother was perfect for this, especially according to their s1 arcs. Now, however, it seems her sons disgust her (these are Olivia's words). I just hate this narrative so much and they keep pushing it. Also, according to the leaks, Aemond and Helaena will apparently share a few scenes and she'll be his comfort person after his fallout with Alicent. Honestly, this could be interesting and I would love to see them actually interact for once, but I have zero faith in the writers and I also have a feeling that Helaena will somehow be forced by Aemond to be some kind of an unwilling and tragic prophetic figure. I do hope I'm wrong, but I'm afraid that I lost every ounce of optimism and faith in this show.

Well, I guess I'm about to receive my weekly dose of cringe tonight lol. Anyway, I'm looking forward to your insights and takes on this (and the next episodes).

"Weekly dose of cringe" - what a great way to describe season 2 of HotD. Sad but true.

The way Aemond's (and Alicent's) relationsip with their family is being presented this season disheartens me to no end - and I have next to no faith for the things to get better (both according to the leaks and simply taking into account the direction the writing has taken).

If the script has Aemond force Helaena to help him, it really will be a new low, so I really hope it will not come to that. The way Ewan and Phia talked about the scenes they shared didn't put me on alert - but then again, as our collective experience has already proven, actors' words often have to be taken with a grain of salt.

As for Aemond's relationship with Alicent, I've had bad feeling about it for quite some time (since Olivia called Ewan as Aemond "so scary" in the early stages of the promo campaign). Even though the thought of it is frustrating, I don't feel like blaming Olivia for trying to get into her character's mindset and to feel what she feels the way all of it was written. After all, what other options did she have (even if she would have Alicent behave in a different manner)? Alicent is her character, and she has to play her the way she is on the pages of the script. Unfortunately, in HotD actors apparently have little influence on the way their characters are developed (they can make a difference - like Tom and Phia asking for an additional scene with Aegon and Helaena or Matt doing the same for Daemon and Rhaenyra in season 1 - but not the major plot points are concerned).

[destinyc1020]

Tom's Spidey contract is with Sony, not with Disney. Disney borrows Tom from Sony for their team-up MCU movies, so that anti-Tom Disney conspiracy makes no sense. Also like you pointed out the critiques against TCR, Cherry and Chaos Walking were not against Tom and many pointed out that Tom was the best thing in those projects. The critiques tended to focus on the scripts and the pacing. The critics even nominated Tom for Best Actor in a Limited Series. When they generally dislike a project but still nominate a performance, it means that the performance really shines despite the problems with the project. It's easier to get nominations when the overall projects are praised

Also all the projects of the Russos since Endgame have been panned. They are a little off their game. And with Cherry they were tackling drama which is a genre that's not in their comfort zone. We saw that the production of Chaos Walking was a clusterfuck with the studio not allowing the director to make the final cut of the film. TCR also had conflicts between the directors and the showrunner/writer (Akiva)

I'm glad that Tom has one of the major roles in a Nolan event movie. He is a master of his craft and no studio is meddling with his vision. This can be a inflection point for Tom, reminding people that had forgotten that he's more than Spidey

Tom's Spidey contract is with Sony, not with Disney. Disney borrows Tom from Sony for their team-up MCU movies, so that anti-Tom Disney conspiracy makes no sense.

Correct!

Also like you pointed out the critiques against TCR, Cherry and Chaos Walking were not against Tom and many pointed out that Tom was the best thing in those projects. The critiques tended to focus on the scripts and the pacing. The critics even nominated Tom for Best Actor in a Limited Series. When they generally dislike a project but still nominate a performance, it means that the performance really shines despite the problems with the project. It's easier to get nominations when the overall projects are praised

EXACTLY! 👏🏾

Tom wouldn't have received a Critic's Choice Award nomination if they had hated his performance in TCR. I think their nomination for him proved that their beef with with series had more to do with the overall writing/pacing of the project (the little bit they saw anyway), and maybe even a personal vendetta against Akiva himself for all we know. 👀

Tom is usually not the one getting the horrible reviews. It's the PROJECTS.

Also all the projects of the Russos since Endgame have been panned. They are a little off their game. And with Cherry they were tackling drama which is a genre that's not in their comfort zone. We saw that the production of Chaos Walking was a clusterfuck with the studio not allowing the director to make the final cut of the film. TCR also had conflicts between the directors and the showrunner/writer (Akiva)

Yea, I have heard similar complaints about the Russos. 🥴 So it wasn't just "Cherry". I think Tom is just a nice guy, so he was probably saying "yes" to "Cherry" because they asked him to do the role, and the role seemed challenging. He didn't know that it would get the reviews that it got.

I think now days, Tom is being more smart about which projects he says "yes" to, and is only taking on projects with directors that he wants to work with and in films that he feels will actually be written well, or (at the very least) DIRECTED well lol. 😅 I think he's learned his lesson.

OH, and don't even get me started on the complete mess that was "Chaos Walking". 😩 (Although I didn't mind the film) My only consolation is that it was the pandemic and the film wasn't even released to theaters and so it didn't get a bomb at the box office. 😭 I'm SO glad it was released STRAIGHT to streaming. We should actually be THANKING our lucky stars for that imo lol.

I'm glad that Tom has one of the major roles in a Nolan event movie. He is a master of his craft and no studio is meddling with his vision. This can be a inflection point for Tom, reminding people that had forgotten that he's more than Spidey

Me too! 😃 I said long time ago that after Tom does his R+J play, we will see him getting way more roles, because for some reason, when actors do theater or go back to theater, it just elevates their acting, elevates their opportunities, and it makes more people take them a bit more seriously.

I think The Odyssey is definitely going to make people (avg movie-goers) take a second look at Tom as an actor and make them realize that he's MORE than just Spider-Man/Peter Parker. 😊

[lokiondisneyplus]

Sophia Di Marto [sic] knows why the Marvel Studios breakout series “Loki” was so successful creatively. It was partially due to the casting. Much of it was in the writing and the direction, but mostly, it was about the dynamic between the title character, played by Tom Hiddleston, and Loki’s multiverse doppelganger, Sylvie, portrayed by Di Marto herself.

“Some of it’s in the writing, some of it’s in what Tom does, a little bit of it’s what I do, but that it’s how these two characters rub each other up the wrong way,” Di Marto says. “They’re so similar but so different. And I think that fine line between the two is what’s really entertaining to watch because they know exactly how to wind each other up. Sylvie knows exactly how to wind Loki up and audiences love watching Loki being wound up. So, it’s just really entertaining and that’s part of the chemistry because they sort of hate each other, but love each other and will always be connected now. So it is this really specific dynamic, which is a massive gift to be able to play with.”

Over the course of our conversation centered on season two, Di Marto reflects on whether Sylvie found peace at the end of season two, how the stunt choreography keeps her in shape, what new directors Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead brought to the series, and much, much more.

____

The Playlist: First of all, I have to tell you, that even though it aired last fall, “Loki “is still one of my favorite programs from the past 12 months. I just thought it was so well done.

Sophia Di Martino: Thank you.

When you found out you were coming back for season two, did you have an idea already of where Sylvie’s arc was going to go?

No, I had absolutely no idea until I read the script and then I had to read the script like three times because it was quite confusing.

Did Eric Martin, who was the head writer, sort of sit you down and give you a heads up, this is where we’re going, this is how we see her?

I’m trying to remember exactly what happened. If anyone sat me down, I think Tom might have given me because an executive producer as well, so he’s more involved in the writing and all the behind-the-scenes stuff. I think he may have given me a little headline sort of idea of what the second series was about, but I didn’t really know what would happen until I read the scripts. And then as we’re shooting, it’s changing all the time as well. The main structure is the same, but it’s really a moving beast and a big collaboration. So we’re rewriting it all as we go with Eric.

After reading the initial scripts, did you at least think to yourself, “O.K., we’re going to get to a point at the end of the season where Sylvie is at least at peace?” Or do you think part of her is still out for some sort of revenge”

I dunno if she’s at peace at the end of series two. I don’t think she goes back to Oklahoma. I don’t think she tries to get that peaceful human life again. I think she’s on another adventure, but I dunno. I feel like she just keeps casting an eye over what’s happening with Loki and with Sylvie. I don’t think she’s ever going to be truly at peace. I think she’s a sort of natural-born fighter. I think she’s only ever truly herself when she’s fighting for something. So she’s perhaps gone to look for the next fight.

Do you think that’s the big difference between her and her alternate timeline version of Loki played by Tom? That’s the inherent difference because Loki doesn’t seem to always want to fight.

I don’t think he wants to fight, but he has something within him that’s unfinished and he’s always searching for his glorious purpose. And I think they’re both doing that in slightly different ways.

And I know every member of the media that you’ve spoken to has asked you this in some way, but have you been given any tea about whether Sylvie will continue looking for her glorious purpose down the road?

I have no idea. They’ve told me nothing.

Do you like that in a way?

Yeah, I mean, because if you can just get on with your life until you get a phone call that says you have to be somewhere at a certain point, do something. Yeah, it’s an exciting part of it.

Was there any scene or moment in particular where you were like, “O.K., this is a moment that I’m going to have to dig deep into. This is a tougher scene than maybe I might’ve expected this day”?

The scene that was most interesting to play was that moment in McDonald’s when Loki and Sylvie meet again for the first time. I don’t think there were hardly any lines in that scene. Maybe she says, “Are you going to order something or not?” And it is very sparse the dialogue, but there’s so much unsaid, there’s so much acting going on and they look at each other for the first time. And that was really, really cool to get to play that. It’s bumping into your ex for the first time.

And I’m guessing there is not a lot of rehearsal time correct? It was mostly working it out on the scene on set.

Oh yeah. Yeah. The only rehearsals that we got were some choreo or some fight stuff. Yeah, we didn’t get much rehearsing for the actual dialogue scenes, but I like it that way.

Do you feel like there’s more spontaneity?

For me? Yeah. I like to rely on my intuition and my spontaneity.

Well, I always heard that when you put good actors together should get good results. But this cast in particular had such great chemistry. Even in season one. Do you think that that was just luck? Is it just the talent of the actors?

I think it’s also the characterization. Some of it’s in the writing, some of it’s in what Tom does, a little bit of it’s in what I do, but that it’s how these two characters rub each other up the wrong way. They’re so similar but so different. And I think that fine line between the two is what’s really entertaining to watch because they know exactly how to wind each other up. Sylvie knows exactly how to wind Loki up and audiences love watching Loki being wound up. So, it’s just really entertaining and that’s part of the chemistry because they sort of hate each other, but love each other and will always be connected now. So it is this really specific dynamic, which is a massive gift to be able to play with.

I know you had stunt doubles for a lot of it, but you did do a lot of your own action choreography, correct?

Yeah, yeah. We learn it all and then they sort of swap it and change it when they need to make it look better.

Was it fun? Is that stressful as an actor to have to do that stuff compared to just regular scenes?

I love it. It was a really great opportunity for me. I mean, I was like three months postpartum on the first [season]. It was a great opportunity for me to get fit. I don’t go to the gym. I was the most unfit person when I started, so it really kicked my ass into gear. But I really enjoyed it. And it’s watching the finished product, it just makes you feel like an absolute badass, even though it’s not me. Some of it is not me. It feels great to be a part of it, and it really helps me get into character as well as Sylvie because she’s such a brawler. She loves fighting so much. I’ve realized that I do too. And I’ve carried on. I box a couple of times a week, and I really enjoy the feeling of being able to channel my aggression somewhere. And as a woman, I think it’s quite rare to be able to be given the opportunity to be able to be aggressive and I love it.

At least for season two, do you recall one sequence or set piece that was tougher than any of the others?

There was two of the fighting stuff. I’m trying to remember. The stuff on the Ferris wheel was quite tricky because the space was quite small and there were wires. We were doing wire work, so that was tricky. And a lot of it gets changed last minute. So, you learn the sequence and then they figure out how they’re going to shoot it, and then they realized you can’t do the sequence anymore, so you have to do a different sequence. And so a lot of it is learning choreo on the fly and changing it up and doing something different that works for the camera. So, that was challenging. And I remember I had to throw the TVA guidebook and I couldn’t get it in the right place. Things like that, take ages to try and do. In the first series, there’s a sequence where a knife lands right next to my face, and one of Loki’s daggers stands right next to my face. Little things like that take hours.

In the final episode, you have a great moment when Loki continues to go back to sort of the workroom area where you guys all keep getting killed again and again. And Sylvie sort of imparts on him one last time about what he needs to do. Do you remember that scene that I’m talking about?

Is it in Key’s workroom or the Key Lime Pie?

It’s the last time that we see that version of Sylvie. The spaghetti is coming to sort of wipe her away. It’s before he goes back and realizes that he has to go into the…

Oh, yeah.

I don’t know if you remember that scene, but it seems like such a rich moment for Sylvie. I was wondering, did those moments at least sit with you at all about how emotional Sylvie’s connection had become with Loki?

Yeah, definitely. And I think she’s the spokesperson in a way for his friendship group. It becomes a real ensemble by the end of series two. It’s not just Sylvie. He’s made quite a few friends and they’ve become almost like a little bit of a team and he’s watching each one of them disappear. And I think Sylvie’s the last one to be turned into spaghetti. And that’s the moment where he realizes he needs to figure out how to control this time slipping so he can change what’s happening because otherwise, he’s going to lose everyone.

The drop-off between season one and season two from Kate Heron to Justin Benson & Aaron Moorhead was almost non-existent. They certainly have their own directorial style, but the quality is just so good. Can you talk about what they’re like to work with as directors on set and what you thought they brought to the series?

They are so relaxed at times. I was like, “Why are you so relaxed? It’s making me feel nervous. Why are you so confidently cool and calm?” They just know exactly what they want and what they’re going to do. And they have their own style and they’ve done a bunch of indie films, so they’ve done their time and know how to do it, and they know how to work with each other so well. I dunno if it’s about something to do with being two of them so they can share their stress or something just so chilled out and so open and collaborative and funny and just so easy.

I know you recently wrapped “The Radleys” with Damian Lewis. It’s a horror vampire comedy, right? Can you talk about it at all?

Honestly, I dunno when it’s going to be released, but it’s a vampire movie about a family of vampires trying to live in suburbia and not drink blood.

And it’s funny. It’s hopefully funny.

Hopefully. Yeah.