#non professional actors

[gregor-samsung]

Белые ночи почтальона Алексея Тряпицына [The Postman's White Nights] (Andrei Konchalovsky, 2014)

[whistlingstarlight]

Confession, talented an actor as Jeremy Jordan is and whilst I'm very much looking forward to see his Clyde in high-quality footage I do wish they'd hired either Jordan or Barney for the West End proshoot :/

[spectralscathath]

do you have any voice headcanons for Antares? how they talk, stuff like that?

Okay well here’s the characters that I think would keep the voices similar to what they have in show, because the performances given were excellent and really defined the character to me. The cadence, the tone, all that, these ones work well.

Winter, Ironwood, Tyrian, Watts, Salem, Hazel, Oscar, Ozpin, the Ace Ops are all solid, Robyn, Whitley, Sienna, Raven, Mercury, Vernal.

So here's the ones I'd mess with:

Ruby: I’d want to still have her sound light and innocent, but I’d definitely make her way less squeaky then she was in the show. A voice that can still have a bit of grit, if she needs it. I’m picturing something like Dani Phantom in Danny Phantom, or X-23 in x-men evolution (Andrea Libman’s version). Childish but able to get dangerous.

Weiss: definitely something posh but not necessarily snooty. She should have a very clear voice, one that’s clearly been through a million dictation lessons and speaks quite musically at that. Pick a soprano broadway singer, go from there.

Blake: I think she’d probably have the deepest voice of the main four girls? Not raspy, but resonant. Able to soften up, I picture something like Vi from Arcane or Korra from Legend of Korra.

Yang: Not as deep as Blake’s voice, but definitely with a bit of grit to it that gives her that tough vibe. Where Blake has resonance, Yang does have rasp. Sorta Ryuko Matoi-esque, or like Amethyst from Steven Universe.

Qrow: as much as I like Jason Liebrecht’s work I don’t think he works quite as well for Qrow, which is not anything against him just the voice doesn’t fit as much as I’d prefer. I’ve always felt Qrow should have a voice with a deeper register anyway, so I’d be picking a performance like Wolverine from X-Men Evolution, or Ghazan, Legend of Korra.

Sun: I really like Lego Monkie Kid and all the voice actors are great, I just can’t decide if Sun gets MK’s voice (younger, peppy, excited, also Sokka) or Monkey King’s (equally peppy, a little more deep, a bit tricksy, also Goku).

Ilia: I think Cherami Leigh’s voice acting is great (maybe she can be Blake?) but my Ilia is a bit younger and a lot softer so I’d want her to have more of a higher voice, to contrast Antares-Blake’s lower register. Something that still cracks, a bit like Luz from Owl House, mayhaps, or Marcy from Amphibia.

Summer: if any of you have watched Critical Role 3 Bells Hells and have listened to Ashley Johnson’s voice for Fearne, that’s it exactly. Really soft and breathy and gentle, really distinctive from the rest of the cast.

Tortuga: Tortuga had a very deep voice compared to the other Ace Ops, but not gravelly. Not quite on the levels of like, James Earl Jones, but more like Keith Davids in his Dr Facilier role, able to be quick but with gravitas.

Cinder: needs to be huskier, definitely able to have charisma behind it rather than risking sounding childish, or whiny. I picture something like Meg from Hades or Lust from FMA.

Jaune: I think he’d have one of the higher pitched voices of the male cast? Definitely a tenor, speaks fast and nervously, I picture kinda like Martin Blackwood’s voice from the Magnus Archives (I have no idea what anyone’s accents are and I don’t want to think about it), or Rocky from Lackadaisy.

Nora: super high pitched and nasally, but really sweet and cute nonetheless. I’d say kinda like, Molly from Epithet Erased, or Ivy, Lackadaisy again.

Pyrrha: I think she should have the most standard teenager voice? She deserves it, she deserves normal and not exceptional. I picture, like Gwen Stacy from Spiderverse, or Wendy from Gravity Falls?

Ren: a very subdued, almost monotone voice, its not necessarily particularly low or high, but could totally drop down to something very menacing if pushed. I’m thinking, like, a chilled out version of Percy from Vox Machina, with that same ability to go right down into a danger zone.

Emerald: what if we took Cherami Leigh's Ilia voice and just moved it here what then? Other options I think would suit her would be something like Miriam from Dragon Age (Kimberly Brooks is always a win)

Penny: If Nora was high pitched I think Penny should sound like a literal child, on account of Pietro really leaning into the 'innocent little girl' thing when he was downloading voice clips to make into her synthesizer- or, hear me out: Penny voiced by a vocaloid.

[onenakedfarmer]

Currently Watching

THE DEVIL, PROBABLY [LE DIABLE PROBABLEMENT] Robert Bresson France, 1977

[zbdragons]

Yesterday I watched an early 90's movie with my mom about a poor neighborhood, struggling with discord and the loss of community, which resolve the conflict by having everyone, including the kids and the priest, come together to rob a bank. It had people with aids and people with drug addiction and people struggling with anger management and none of them were villified ? It felt so based

[transform4u]

"Jerk"-ing Off

Elliot, a 38-year-old with a steadfast commitment to making a difference, has transitioned from a theatre major with Broadway aspirations to a dedicated lawyer. His days are spent navigating complex legal battles and championing causes close to his heart. Although his acting career is behind him, the creative spark from his theatre background continues to influence his approach to law and advocacy.

With his strikingly handsome features and sharp sense of style, Elliot has swapped the charisma of an actor for the precision of a lawyer. His square jaw and piercing blue eyes certainly draw attention, but it's his intellect and unwavering commitment to justice that truly define him. He has risen through the ranks of a prestigious law firm, specializing in cases against large corporations that exploit workers and damage the environment. From fighting for fair wages for underpaid employees to challenging unethical business practices, Elliot is relentless in his pursuit of justice for the little guy.

Despite the demands of his career, Elliot finds solace and excitement in his pro bono work. Whether defending a non-profit facing a lawsuit or advocating for environmental protection, he remains deeply connected to his values.

On weekends, Elliot blends relaxation with social engagement. He and his friends gather at his stylish apartment to enjoy craft cocktails and watch the latest season of Drag Race. Although he's not always up-to-date with the latest music trends, he finds motivation and energy in the classics.

One Friday evening, as Elliot works late on a case, the ping of an incoming email startles him. With a sigh of frustration, he mutters, "Christ, I can't deal with this. It's Friday—I want to hit the bars and relax."

Elliot, who had just celebrated his recent promotion, sits at his sleek, modern desk, still basking in the triumph over his coworker, Dahlia Voss. The promotion had come as a result of his quick wit and effortless charm, qualities that Dahlia had always resented. Unknown to Elliot, Dahlia harbored a deep-seated grudge and came from a long line of witches with formidable powers.

As he reviews his emails, Elliot notices one from Dahlia titled "ATTN: URGENT FROM DAHLIA, NEED TO STRAIGHT OUT ISSUE." Puzzled by the vague subject line, he clicks to open it. Suddenly, his laptop screen flickers erratically. The once smooth interface is now a chaotic swirl of error codes and cryptic messages: “SYSTEM MALFUNCTION,” “UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS DETECTED,” “CRITICAL ERROR: INSUFFICIENT PERMISSIONS.”

cast_spell(name, trait): spellbook = { 'cheerful': 'rude', 'timid': 'asshole', 'gay': 'straight', 'reserved': 'douchebag'

“ERROR: SYSTEM MALFUNCTION,” “WARNING: UNAUTHORIZED ACCESS,” “CRITICAL FAILURE: DATA CORRUPTION,” “ALERT: INTRUSION DETECTED - SECURITY BREACH”

A jolt of electricity courses through Elliot's body as his laptop emits a high-pitched whine before shutting down abruptly. He feels a sharp shock, and a wave of disorientation washes over him. At that moment, his phone buzzes with a text inviting him to after-hours drinks with friends.

His head begins to feel strange, as if it’s being enveloped in a slow, creeping fog. Thoughts and memories start to twist and turn uncontrollably in his mind. His once-clear recollections of high-profile cases and law school lectures blur and fade away. Instead, his brain fills with the distant, raucous cheers of a football game, the thudding of bodies wrestling, and the sweaty, intense faces of men in athletic struggle.

The noise crescendos in his mind as he struggles to piece together his identity. The cheers and grunts of a football game blend with the visceral, primal sounds of wrestling matches. Sweat and exertion fill his thoughts, displacing his professional ambitions with a foggy, chaotic blend of sports and physical combat. A text message pings "Meet us at the bar, now!"

He stumbles toward the elevator, disoriented and heavy-limbed. His usual grace is replaced by a deep grunt of frustration as he presses the down button with a sense of growing urgency. The memories of his career and his aspirations dissolve, leaving only the raw, physical sensations of the moment.

As Elliot descends in the elevator, the transformation unfolds with a riveting intensity. His face, once marked by the subtle creases of age and the weight of experience, starts to smoothen like a sculptor's marble. The fine lines and traces of stress vanish, replaced by a strikingly chiseled visage. His boyish charm fades, giving way to a more rugged, angular allure that demands both awe and respect. His hair, previously a paragon of slicked-back sophistication, begins to dissolve into a casual, faded undercut. The meticulous grooming that once spoke of refined elegance yields to a less polished but deliberately styled fade, embodying a new, relaxed defiance.

The metamorphosis of his facial features is nothing short of breathtaking: his jawline, once defined by subtle strength, becomes a bold, commanding presence. The contours sharpen into a formidable edge, accentuated by a pronounced cleft in his chin that adds a raw, magnetic force to his profile. His bright blue eyes, once warm and engaging, narrow into a self-assured squint. The charismatic gleam now shifts to a smug, condescending glint, reflecting an unshakable sense of superiority. His eyebrows, once simply well-groomed, transform into thick, expressive arches that cast a skeptical, judgmental shadow over his gaze, enhancing his air of disdain.

Elliot's mind drifts through the haze of transformation, and a poignant memory surfaces. He recalls a passionate monologue he delivered on the rights of gay business owners—his voice fervent and impassioned, each word carefully chosen to convey his deep conviction. The memory is vivid: he stands before an audience, his expression intense, his gestures animated as he argues for equality and respect with an unwavering commitment.

But as the elevator descends further, that memories in his mind begin to blur. The fervent words and righteous passion gradually fade, replaced by simpler, more visceral experiences. The scene shifts to one of indulgence: Elliot is surrounded by friends at a lively sports bar, his hands gripping a cold beer. The atmosphere is loud, filled with the clamor of cheering fans and the clinking of glasses. His focus is on the game, his conversation peppered with jokes and banter, the tension of advocacy replaced by the ease of casual enjoyment.

His nose, once understated, reshapes into a larger, slightly hooked form, perfectly complementing the new strength of his jawline. The well-defined features now project a dominant, imposing presence that demands attention. His mouth curls into a smug grin, radiating a newfound air of superiority. The bright, white teeth remain perfectly aligned, but they now underscore his casual arrogance, turning each smile into a declaration of his elevated status.

The shift is mirrored in his clothing as well: his neatly tailored work attire—once the epitome of professional elegance—disappears, replaced by loud, attention-seeking frat bro garb. His crisp dress shirt and tie vanish, giving way to a snug, brightly colored graphic t-shirt adorned with crude slogans. Tailored slacks transform into baggy cargo shorts, and polished dress shoes morph into worn-out sneakers. The overall look exudes a garish, flamboyant flair, complete with flashy accessories and a baseball cap that complete his new, ostentatious ensemble.

As the elevator doors slide open, Elliot—now a towering figure at 6'4"—lets out a loud, brash buuuuuuurp. His frame grows a bit larger and more robust, and his feet, now a daunting 13 inches, thud heavily on the floor. He steps out with a new, clumsy confidence, his posture broader and his steps more pronounced.

As Elliot steps out of the elevator, the world around him blurs, and a dense fog begins to settle over his mind. His thoughts, once sharp and discerning, start to muddle and dissipate, replaced by a growing fog of confusion. The intellectual vigor that once defined him dissolves into a dull, primitive haze. His once complex thoughts shrink into a simpler, more childish state, dominated by basic desires and impulsive whims.

With every step, Elliot feels a sneer tug at the corners of his mouth as he catches his reflection in a window pane. The face staring back at him is a stark contrast to his former self. His features have grown more juvenile, and the sharpness of his previous demeanor has softened into a simpler, almost vacuous expression. His body, once trim and well-defined, now appears pasty and weak, lacking the muscle tone and robustness he had grown accustomed to. The sight is both alien and unsettling, yet there's an odd sense of acceptance creeping in, as though his new appearance is starting to fit a simpler narrative.

Entering the bar, Elliot is immediately enveloped by the low hum of conversation and the clinking of glasses. His movements are clumsy as he makes his way to the bar, where he grabs a cold beer with a sense of vague satisfaction. He drifts to an empty seat next to Dahlia, who sits with a poised elegance that starkly contrasts with Elliot’s new, awkward demeanor.

Dahlia is striking in her appearance: her auburn hair cascades in sleek waves, framing a face that is both sharply intelligent and subtly predatory. Her eyes, a dark and penetrating brown, watch Elliot with an inscrutable expression. As he sits down, she glances at him with a smirk and says, “Elliot, have you been working out?”

The question causes a deep blush to spread across Elliot’s cheeks, though it’s quickly overshadowed by a sharp pang of pain in his stomach. The pain is sudden and intense, sending a jolt of discomfort through his body. He winces, feeling as if his entire frame is being twisted by an invisible force. As he tries to shake off the discomfort, Dahlia leans closer and whispers a cryptic incantation:

“Mirror, mirror, in this light, Reflect the change within my sight. Let each encounter subtly show, Traits of the past to ebb and flow. Let them see, let them adjust, To echoes of old in ways discussed. As they speak, let change unfold, Transforming hearts with memories bold"

As she hands Elliot the drink, the pain in his body intensifies momentarily, a visceral reminder of his altered state. But then, a strange clarity begins to seep through the haze of his mind. The idea of working out, once foreign and disjointed, starts to resonate with an odd sense of understanding. It makes sense now, in a way it never did before—a new, simple logic that aligns with the primitive thoughts now swirling in his head. His body aches, but a newfound sense of purpose begins to take shape, as if the idea of physical exertion is suddenly a natural fit for his newly simplified self.

As Elliot finishes the last gulp of his drink, the rich, frothy beer swirls around his senses, sending a wave of warmth through his chest. With a deep, resonant burp that escapes him, he feels a jolt of raw, uninhibited energy. He casually begins to engage with the women around him, each conversation acting as a catalyst for further transformation.

The first woman, a vivacious redhead with an easy smile, drifts toward him, her eyes sparkling with interest. “You know,” she begins, her tone teasing, “you remind me of this guy I used to see. He was all about hitting the gym and flexing his muscles in every mirror he passed. Couldn’t get enough of himself, but he sure had a presence.”

As she speaks, Elliot’s neck begins to thicken and swell, growing into a powerful column that seamlessly transitions into broad, formidable shoulders. The deltoids swell like sculpted marble, rippling with every subtle movement, while the trapezius muscles rise in a majestic sweep. His new shoulders create a stunning silhouette, exuding a primal power that commands attention.

Another woman, a striking brunette with a no-nonsense attitude, saunters over with a glass of wine. “Oh my god, you’re totally giving me vibes of this guy I dated, always talking about his ‘swole’ arms and how he could bench press his body weight. He was like a walking billboard for gym supplements.”

As Elliot engages with her, his biceps begin to come into sharp focus. They swell into vast, commanding peaks that defy natural laws, each flex revealing a tapestry of sinew and strength. His triceps become equally impressive, forming a trio of defined heads that speak of relentless discipline. His forearms thicken and cord, veins pulsing with every beat of his heart.

A third woman, with fiery red hair and a lively spirit, sidles up next to him. “You’ve got this aura like my ex who was always bragging about his ‘chest day.’ His pecs were so grand, you’d think he’d been chiseled by a sculptor. He’d puff out his chest like he was king of the world.”

Elliot’s chest responds to her description, expanding in a display of anatomical artistry. His pectorals grow grand and expansive, pushing outward and upward in majestic waves. The separation between the upper and lower pectorals becomes as clear as a sculptor’s chisel work, forming an imposing V-shape that demands reverence.

A fourth woman, with an elegant demeanor and a hint of mystery in her eyes, approaches him. “You know, this guy I once knew had this incredible six-pack that seemed almost too perfect. He’d talk about how his abs were his ‘pride and joy.’ It’s like he had some secret to keeping them so defined.”

Elliot’s abdominal muscles respond with a powerful definition. Each segment becomes sharp and distinct, forming an impressive six-pack—or perhaps an eight-pack—that’s etched with the clarity of celestial engravings. His obliques carve out a V-shaped expanse, their definition a bold statement of core strength and stability.

As Elliot’s back grows more defined, a woman with a sultry voice and a commanding presence joins the group. “You remind me of a guy I dated whose back was like a work of art. His lats were so broad, they gave him this incredible V-shape. His shoulders and back were all about that powerful, muscular look.”

His back swells to match her description, the latissimus dorsi expanding into a dramatic V-shape that broadens his frame. The rhomboids and rear deltoids create a complex landscape of muscular peaks and valleys, each contour a testament to his dedication and hard work.

Finally, a confident woman with a warm smile and a casual demeanor takes a seat next to him. “I used to date this guy who had legs that were just massive. His quads were so defined, it was like he was built to run marathons or something. His calves were just as impressive.”

Elliot’s legs transform to match her description. The quadriceps bulge with impressive prominence, their individual heads clearly delineated with every movement. The hamstrings balance this power with their sinewy bulk, and his calves, now thick and robust, round out this vision of lower body development.

With each new encounter and description, Elliot’s body becomes a marvel of muscular excellence. His waist, though narrow compared to his robust upper body, accentuates his grandeur, while his glutes and hips provide a solid, unshakeable foundation. His entire physique, from the sweeping curves of his shoulders to the powerful bulge of his legs, embodies a profound blend of strength, dedication, and sheer, unadulterated muscle.

As Elliot surveys himself in the bar’s reflective window pane, with a final, deep buuuuuurp, he embraces his new persona, feeling the full force of his muscular form as he moves through the night.

Elliot stands confidently at the bar, chatting up a pretty brunette. She laughs at his jokes and seems to be enjoying his company. As they talk, Elliot can't help but feel a surge of pride - he knows he looks good and could easily get any guy in the room if he wanted to.

Suddenly, another girl approaches them. "Hey! You look just like my ex," she says with a sneer. "He was such a dumb homophobe! Total jerk."

Elliot's mind starts to melt as her words sink in. He can't believe she would compare him to someone so despicable - after all, he has always been an advocate for equality and tolerance throughout his life… or so he thought.

Elliot's mind reels as the girl's words cut deep. He had always prided himself on being different, on standing up for what he believed in - even if it meant going against societal norms. But now, all of that seems meaningless in the face of this girl's insult.

As she walks away from him, laughing along with her friends, Elliot feels a deep sense of betrayal. He had helped so many people throughout his life - gays included - and yet here he was being called out for something he never even thought about before tonight: his own sexuality. The memories of rooting for the little guy and supporting those who were different from him fade away into oblivion as anger takes over every fiber of his being.

Without hesitation or remorse, Elliot turns towards the group of laughing girls and launches into a lengthy rant about how much he hates fags.

"Gay people are disgusting," he continues, gesturing wildly with his hands for emphasis. "They ruin everything they touch! They should be ashamed of themselves for going against nature like that."

The rage boiling within Elliot is palpable; it feels like his entire body is on fire with anger and hatred towards gay people. He can barely contain himself as he launches into this tirade, forgetting about the girl who started it all and focusing solely on venting his pent-up frustrations onto anyone who will listen.

His voice booms through the bar as he spews venomous words about how disgusting gay people are and how they ruin everything they touch. He talks about their sinful lifestyle choices that go against nature itself.

As Elliot lingers in the dimly lit bar, the fog in his mind thickens, obscuring the remnants of his former self. His name slips from his thoughts, replaced by an overwhelming sense of self-importance and superiority. The transformation in his demeanor is palpable; his once charming, easygoing attitude has hardened into an abrasive display of arrogance and entitlement. He flexes his newly sculpted muscles with an almost comical pride, his powerful biceps and chiseled torso a constant, conspicuous exhibition of his perceived dominance.

He approaches women with a swagger that borders on obnoxious. His conversations are marked by a brazen self-assuredness, his every word dripping with the sort of superficial charm that masks a deep-seated condescension. His eyes narrow into a smug squint as he engages with each new woman, their descriptions of past boyfriends acting as catalysts for his transformation into a quintessential frat bro.

The first woman he talks to is a striking blonde with a flirtatious air. “You know,” she says with a teasing smile, “you remind me so much of this guy I dated who was all about ‘bro culture.’ He was obsessed with his gym routine and would never stop bragging about his arms and pecs and getting swole. Thought he was the king of the world.”

As she speaks, Elliot’s body undergoes a significant change. His neck, already thick and powerful, transitions seamlessly into broad shoulders that form a formidable foundation. His deltoids swell like sculpted marble, and his trapezius muscles rise in a majestic sweep. His personality shifts as well, taking on a brashness and confidence that becomes increasingly abrasive.

"That's right, beautiful," Elliot says with a smirk. "I'm all about the gains and getting swole - what can I say? It's just who I am."

He flexes his newly developed biceps for her, making sure she gets a good look at them. "And if you think these are impressive," he continues, pointing to his chest and abs, "just wait until you see the rest of me!"

A second woman, with dark, intense eyes and a straightforward demeanor, saunters over. “You’re giving me serious vibes of this guy I used to see. He was always talking about how ‘tough’ he was, how he could bench press a ton. His whole thing was being the toughest guy in the room, and he’d never let anyone forget it.”

Elliot’s biceps swell into vast, commanding peaks, and his triceps become equally impressive, forming a trio of defined heads. His forearms thicken and cord, veins bulging with each movement. His personality evolves further, his interactions marked by a superficial charm that veers into patronizing territory. He boasts about his perceived physical prowess, showing off with a dismissive air that belittles anyone who dares to challenge his views.

Next, a tall woman with a sultry voice and a sarcastic edge approaches. “Oh, you remind me of this guy who was all about showing off his chest. He’d strut around with his pectorals puffed out, always talking about his ‘chest day’ and how everyone else should just be in awe of his muscles.”

As the night wears on, Elliot’s drinking catches up with him. His initial charm starts to fade under the haze of alcohol, and he becomes increasingly boisterous. His speech grows louder and less coherent, his once-smooth demeanor now replaced with exaggerated movements and a clumsy swagger. He sways slightly as he moves, his tan and perfectly gelled hair looking more disheveled by the minute.

Spotting another woman across the room, Elliot makes his way over with a confident but unsteady gait. “Heyyy! What’s up, gorgeous?” he bellows, his voice carrying over the thumping music. “I’m Ellio---burrrp. You look like you’re having an epic time. Mind if I join you?”

The next woman, Emily, responds with a hesitant smile. “Sure, but just so you know, my last boyfriend was a real nightmare. He was always dismissing my feelings and had this insufferable attitude that made every conversation feel like an interrogation.”

“Ugh, sounds like he was a total loser,” he says, his voice dripping with dismissive disdain. “Seriously, who even treats someone like that? Must’ve been hard for you to deal with someone so self-absorbed.”

His behavior becomes more overbearing as he takes a swig from his drink, barely hiding his smirk. “You know what? It’s no wonder he was a nightmare. He probably couldn’t handle someone with real personality. I bet he was just jealous of you. I mean, who wouldn’t be? You’re fucking hot, those tits are primo"

Leaning in closer with a swagger that reeks of entitlement, Elliot continues, “But you’re with me now, so you don’t have to worry about those kinds of guys. I’m not just any guy—I’m a total catch. I mean, look at me! Perfect tan, chiseled abs, and I’m living the high life. I can’t imagine why anyone would act like that when they could be with someone as amazing as me.”

As Elliot moves on to the next woman, Lauren, his approach becomes more animated. “Hey, I couldn’t help but notice your vibe. Want to grab a drink with me?” he asks with a broad grin, his casual demeanor now mixed with a bit more enthusiasm.

Lauren’s expression tightens. “My ex was such a jerk. He was obsessed with himself, always talking about his achievements and never really paying attention to me. It was like dating a human trophy case.”

Elliot’s response is more energetic now. “Man, that’s brutal. You deserve someone who really gets you. By the way, I’m really into fitness and partying hard. You should come out with me sometime. I’ve got some epic moves that you just have to see to believe!” He leans in, flexing his biceps as he talks, his attempt to impress becoming increasingly overt.

By the time Elliot meets Megan, his transformation into the quintessential Jersey Shore frat bro is nearly complete. “Hey, check out these abs!” he exclaims, dramatically flexing his muscles. “So, what’s your dating history like?”

Megan looks annoyed. “My last boyfriend was a total mess. He was super controlling, always trying to dictate what I should do, and his idea of fun was just belittling anyone who didn’t share his views.”

Elliot’s demeanor shifts to one of self-righteousness. “Oh, I hear you. You know, I’m all about strong values and living life right. Let me tell you about my faith and how it shapes everything I do. It’s important to have principles and stand by them, don’t you think? And if you’re up for it, we can hit the gym together—I’ve got a killer routine that’ll really get you in shape.” His voice is louder now, and he begins to adopt a more exaggerated, boastful tone. His flashy clothes and confident swagger are on full display, complete with a series of gold chains that jingle with every movement.

With each encounter, Elliot’s interactions evolve from casual charm to overtly flashy and judgmental, embodying the full spectrum of the Jersey Shore frat bro persona. He now shouts “Bro, do you even lift?” to anyone within earshot, and his conversations revolve around his gym exploits, his supposedly imminent rise to fame, and his rigid views on morality. His once-charming approach has devolved into an obnoxious display of self-importance, making it clear that he believes he’s the life of the party and the king of the scene, despite how others view his increasingly disruptive presence.

Another woman,Stacy, elegant yet assertive. “You’re like this guy I dated who was always talking about his abs. He thought his six-pack was his greatest achievement and never missed an opportunity to flaunt it.”

Elliot’s abdominal muscles come into sharp focus, forming an impressive six-pack—or perhaps an eight-pack—that’s etched with clarity. His obliques carve out a bold V-shaped expanse, his abdominal fortress a statement of core strength. His demeanor shifts to reflect a heightened arrogance, his conversations increasingly dismissive of others’ opinions, especially women’s.

A final woman, with a commanding presence and an air of confidence, takes a seat beside him. “You’ve got that same vibe as this guy I used to know. His back was his pride, and he’d always talk about how his lats made him look like a superhero. He had this whole ‘alpha male’ thing going on.”

Elliot’s back expands into a vista of muscular splendor, the latissimus dorsi creating a dramatic V-shape that broadens his frame. His shoulders and back are now a testament to his dedication and hard work, his entire physique a harmonious blend of strength and dominance. His interactions become increasingly aggressive and confrontational, his behavior driven by a sense of entitlement and a belief that his place in the social hierarchy grants him respect and privileges.

As he continues to flex and flaunt, his personality is a cauldron of arrogance and self-entitlement. He navigates conversations with a dismissive attitude, his interactions marked by a superficial charm that quickly turns patronizing. His views are conveyed with a conviction that leaves little room for empathy or genuine connection. Women’s opinions are secondary, often brushed aside with a smirk or a sarcastic quip. He is boastful, aggressive, and confrontational, driven by a sense of superiority and entitlement that colors every interaction.

His behavior is a reflection of deeper insecurities masked by bravado, a superficial facade that prioritizes status and appearances over meaningful human connection. Each interaction with the women in the bar further entrenches him in his new persona, reinforcing his belief that his physical form and traditional values entitle him to a special place of respect and admiration.

Elliot can't help but check himself out in the mirror as he walks towards the bar. His reflection shows a man who is not only physically impressive but also confident and charming. The muscles that bulge beneath his tight shirt are proof of his dedication to fitness, while his smirk reveals an air of superiority that comes with being so attractive.

As Elliot sits down at the bar, he feels a surge of pride wash over him. He knows he looks good - really good - and it's hard not to let that go to his head sometimes. He laughs at stupid jokes just because they make people laugh, even though deep down inside he knows they aren't funny at all… But who cares? Life is about having fun and enjoying yourself!

Feeling particularly horny tonight, Elliot tugs on his dick through his pants as discreetly as possible (or so he thinks). To his surprise (and delight), it grows harder than ever before underneath all that fabric… This must mean one thing: girls are going to love him tonight! With each passing moment spent admiring himself in the mirror or chatting up random girls at the bar, Elliot ages back towards 21 – becoming more like an obnoxious frat bro than ever before.

Elliot strode across the bar with a swagger that made the room's energy shift. His gaze locked onto Dahlia, who was striking in a fitted top that accentuated her curves. To Elliot, she now seemed irresistibly alluring, her every movement catching his eye. His thoughts raced, consumed by a physical attraction that clouded his judgment and inflamed his desire.

Dahlia’s outfit clung tightly to her frame, her cleavage barely contained by the low-cut neckline. Elliot’s focus was fixated, his pulse quickening as he felt a surge of arousal. As he approached, his gaze wandered unabashedly over her, a smirk forming on his lips.

“Hey, sexy lady. What’s up?” Elliot’s voice was dripping with bravado, his attempt at charm masking a more primal urge.

Dahlia met his approach with an air of practiced confidence, her eyes scanning him from head to toe with a mix of amusement and appraisal. Her demeanor was calm and calculated, clearly enjoying the effect she had on him. “What’s your name, big guy?”

Elliot faltered, momentarily thrown by the question. “Uhhhh—” he stammered, momentarily disoriented. His usual ease seemed to waver under Dahlia’s cool gaze.

Dahlia’s lips curled into a twisted smile. “Not much of a thinker, are ya?” she taunted. “You’re just a big, dumb Jersey Shore jerk, Jayden.”

In an instant, Elliot's identity seemed to dissolve, replaced by the persona of Jayden. The transition was seamless, as if the name had always been a part of him. Jayden’s life was now marked by a different kind of swagger—a brash, overt confidence that bordered on arrogance.

Jayden reveled in his new persona, seeing himself as a quintessentially superior figure. His world was framed by his appearance and a self-assured, if superficial, view of his own importance. He strutted with the belief that his physicality and forceful personality entitled him to admiration and respect. In his mind, his “Jersey Shore” persona represented an ideal of dominance and entitlement, far removed from any introspection or vulnerability.

Jayden’s existence was characterized by a relentless pursuit of validation and a dismissal of anything that didn’t align with his inflated self-image. He was the loudest voice in the room, certain that his presence alone justified his elevated status.

Jayden’s life is a vivid tableau of flashy appearances and brash self-assurance. His daily existence revolves around a carefully curated persona of overconfidence and bravado. To him, every interaction is a chance to assert his dominance and flaunt his perceived superiority. His world is marked by a relentless pursuit of admiration and validation, driven by the belief that he is inherently better than those around him.

He lives in a high-rise apartment decorated with gaudy, ostentatious furnishings, the kind that screams luxury without much regard for taste. His wardrobe is full of designer clothes and flashy accessories—bright, logo-heavy shirts, tight jeans, and meticulously styled hair. His reflection in the mirror is a constant reminder of his self-image, one that he admires with almost obsessive pride.

Jayden’s social life is an extension of his persona. He frequents the hottest nightclubs and bars, always seeking the spotlight and reveling in the attention he receives. His conversations are peppered with boasts about his latest conquests, his supposed achievements, and his enviable lifestyle. He believes that his physical appearance and showy demeanor make him the center of attention, and he expects admiration and deference from everyone he meets.

In his interactions, Jayden is dismissive and condescending. He sees himself as the epitome of success and status, and he treats others as if they exist solely to validate his greatness. His relationships are shallow, built on surface-level connections that reinforce his self-image rather than genuine emotional bonds.

Jayden’s belief in his superiority extends to every facet of his life. He’s convinced that his charm, physicality, and wealth place him on a higher plane than others. His confidence, however, is not just a part of his personality but a necessary shield against the deeper insecurities he harbors. He masks any self-doubt with an aggressive display of arrogance and entitlement.

He dismisses anyone who challenges his inflated sense of self or fails to show him the respect he feels he deserves. His interactions are often laced with sarcasm and a patronizing tone, particularly when faced with opinions or ideas that contradict his own. Jayden’s worldview is simplistic, revolving around the belief that his success and appearance make him inherently superior.

In essence, Jayden’s life is a carefully constructed facade of dominance and self-importance, a constant performance designed to convince himself and others of his unparalleled greatness. Despite this outward display of confidence, his sense of superiority is ultimately a fragile defense against his own insecurities and fears of inadequacy.

Jayden hits on Dahlia, treating her like shit. He grabs her and starts making out with her. As they kiss, something strange happens - Dahlia's hair goes from black to platinum blonde! Her clothes also get sluttier and sluttier as she becomes more and more aroused by Jayden's touch.

A fog descends on Dahlia's mind as she too grows dumber and more vapid, forgetting her name in the process. All that matters now is moaning loudly while feeling up Jayden's arm muscles. Dahlia is gone and she is reborn as Krystal, a vapid dumb bimbo. Magic always has a price.

Jayden's muscles are impressive to say the least. His biceps bulge with every flex, and his abs ripple beneath his skin as he moves. Dahlia can't help but feel drawn to them, her hands instinctively reaching out to touch and explore every inch of his body.

She starts by running her fingers along the contours of his chest, marveling at how defined each muscle is. Then she moves down towards his stomach, tracing the lines of his six-pack before finally settling on gripping one of his biceps tightly. She squeezes it hard as if testing its strength - or perhaps just trying to feel closer to him…

Jayden and Krystal passionately make out, their tongues dancing in each other's mouths. He grabs her by the waist and pulls her closer, feeling her firm ass against his crotch.

Jayden's muscles are the epitome of masculinity. His biceps bulge with every flex, and his abs ripple beneath his skin as he moves. He is confident and brash, oozing testosterone with every word that leaves his mouth.

As they dance together, Jayden can't help but show off his physique - flexing those hard-earned muscles for all to see. His attitude matches the power he possesses; cocky and arrogant, yet undeniably attractive in a way that makes women weak at the knees…

"Oh fuck yeah," he groans into her ear. "You're so hot."

Krystal moans loudly as she grinds against him, unable to contain herself any longer. "Take me home," she pants breathlessly. "I want you inside me right now."

Jayden chuckles before picking Krystal up bridal style and carrying her towards the exit of the bar. Once they're outside, he slams her against a nearby wall and starts kissing down her neck while groping at every inch of exposed skin

Jayden treats Krystal like shit as he fucks her, demeaning her and being rude and crude. He's a total jerk throughout their encounter.

"Take off your clothes," Jayden demands, his voice rough with lust.

Krystal hesitates for a moment before obeying, stripping down to reveal her naked body for him. She's already wet and ready for him, her breath coming in short gasps as she anticipates what's to come.

Jayden wastes no time in pushing Krystal against the wall and roughly kissing her neck while groping at every inch of exposed skin - squeezing her breasts roughly and pinching her nipples until they stand at attention. He grinds his hard cock against her moist pussy through their clothes, eliciting a moan from deep within Krystal's throat as she throws back her head in ecstasy

"You like that, slut?" Jayden growls into Krystal's ear as he continues to pound into her. "Tell me you want it!"

Krystal moans loudly in response, unable to form coherent words due to the intense pleasure coursing through her body. Her hands clutch at Jayden's shoulders, nails digging into his skin as she tries desperately not to scream out loud.

"Fuck yes," she manages after a moment. "Please… don't stop."

Jayden chuckles darkly before picking up the pace even more - thrusting deeper and harder than before with each stroke of his hips against hers.

After they finish, Jayden tosses her some money before walking out of the room. "Thanks for the hookup, whore" he says casually as if she was just another piece of meat to him.

Jayden heads straight to the gym afterward, eager to show off his muscles and work on getting even bigger. He spends hours lifting weights, focusing solely on himself and his body - ignoring everyone else around him.

[pftones3482]

I want to be excited for the live action Little Mermaid so badly

The Little Mermaid is my favorite Disney movie. Anyone who knows me knows I'm obsessed with mermaids as a whole and will watch any media that has them. Hell, I own my own tails and monofins. But every time I see a gif or a video for the new Little Mermaid, I cringe

(btw, this is NOT because of the casting. If you're against this movie because Ariel is black, you're a racist piece of shit and this post isn't for you)

My issue lies with the CGI. It just looks so FAKE. We've seen through the course of movies and TV shows that use it that CGI does not age well, and that's because technology is constantly improving. What was impressive in 2005 is not impressive in 2023 (Just look at Aquamarine, another movie about mermaids). And the CGI on Ariel and her sisters already looks fake and the movie isn't even out yet!

Compare this image from the trailer

To this screenshot from H20: Just Add Water (a TV show that came out in 2006):

You can see the details of the scales in the second image

The first image is flat. Sure, it's colorful, but it's flat. It's fake. Halle herself is the most beautiful and alive part of the image, because everything else is fake

The difference?

H20 had costume designers, ones specifically trained in mermaid tail making, HAND CRAFT every tail on the show. All of the scales were hand laid, all the tails molded to fit the actors/actresses perfectly, painted by hand

Let's even look at someone with no affiliation to TV or movies:

This is Mermaid Linden, a very well known (in the mermaid community) professional mermaid. You can tell her tail is not as high quality as the ones made for H20 (though it's still a VERY expensive tail) - but it still looks like it's a part of her. You can still see the details. Because professional mermaid tails are also all handmade and molded to fit each person. Even if they don't lay every individual scale, good professional mermaid tail makers are very meticulous about what they do.

This is what happens when Disney refuses to pay practical effects artists. We could have had beautiful, handmade tails that would look real on screen for decades to come and could be reused for promotional purposes - instead, they're underpaying and overworking their non-unionized employees to make CGI tails that don't even look real now.

(to be clear, I'm not shitting on the artists. As I said, they're being underpaid and overworked. This is not their fault)

And before anyone comes and says "But swimming in those is difficult!" Absolutely it is. You should never swim in a professional level tail (or even just fabric tails) without practice and training. Which Disney could have given the cast if they were willing to PAY people (the cast of H20 [a TV SHOW] literally learned how to be mermaids on set. It's been done before)

Disney's "Live Action" needs to be rebranded as "CGI with some real people tossed in" because that's all any of these remakes have been, and it's exhausting when I look at what we could have had.

[merakiui]

So the Vil horror movie role starring darling… I just googled how simulated sex scenes happen in film. There is usually something called an Intimacy Coordinator who “is a professional who facilitates, choreographs, and establishes boundaries for actors during scenes that involve intimacy, from kissing all the way to full-on sex scenes…” It’s usually a closed set so very few people are involved during filming

but Vil knows how everything works and how everything goes and knows his way around things like that

what if Vil is the reason the film had to go from rated R to rated M for Mature?

👁 👁 Vil who becomes too immersed in the role. The director doesn't stop him because this is exactly it!!!! This is what they're looking for, and Vil pulls off the role so well!!! He's able to get into the mind of a villain in such a way that his portrayal is truly admirable! Worthy of all kinds of awards. When you aren't filming, you're even commending Vil on his acting, smiling sweetly and saying how honored you are to be able to work with him. And Vil's able to respond in kind, but deep down he's thinking about how great it would be to lock you and your pretty smile away so only he would be granted the pleasure of seeing it.

It unlocks something primal in Vil during the chase scene and he's in character...... grabbing your ankle to drag you out of your hiding place, and you do such an amazing job acting like the terrified victim. >_< he had to call for a break partway through filming because seeing the tears in your eyes and hearing the wobbly fear in your voice went right to his dick. ;;;;;

As for the intimacy coordinator, they establish everything as per the requirements and you and Vil are both aware of what's to be done for the scene where he non-cons you. Those improvised lines Vil says during that scene are actually his real thoughts. The director keeps them in because they think it's much better than what was on the script, and since it's Vil it's bound to turn out wonderful. Really, Vil just wants to get away with saying all sorts of depraved filth and speaking just a few of his fantasies while he acts out this scene. And it's all hidden under the guise of flawless acting.

[sm-baby]

Okay hear me out.....

Llyod is to Rambley what Bubble is to Caine.

CAINE LOVES BUBBLE WHAT ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT

That's Non-sentient Ragatha and Kaufmo LMAO

The Host: *sigh* Hey there, Clown.

The Clown: DO NOT SHAME ME WITH THAT COMMON FOLK NAME! I am the PROUD, The PRESTEGIOUS, The PROFESSIONAL, THE clown! ACTOR EXTRORDIANAIRE !

The Host: Great act, Clown.

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

The Jester: Now that you've met all our friends,

The Host: And Clown.

The Jester: Its time for you to-

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

I love the idea that Ragatha erases the "The" from his title as an act of disrespect 😭

[gregor-samsung]

Murmur (Heather Young, 2019)

[toocabaret]

I’ve been having some Thoughts™️ about the weird meta paradox of gerri kellman’s sexuality. as basically The Older Woman on the executive floor she’s trying as much as is possible to blend in with her male colleagues while also not being perceived to be doing so. muted colours and understated makeup. a competent filing cabinet. her husband is dead and her daughters are nameless. she was sexual once but that’s out of sight out of mind and now it’s just the work. it must be a relief in some ways to become finally unfuckable because you’re over 40. she can finally be taken seriously, but only if she toes the line between being too female and not female enough. trying but not too hard. desirable in the past tense only. an honorary man but still in a skirt. and while the men around her can fuck their much younger assistants and get sports massages and run a sex trafficking ring on a cruise ship, she is the job and only the job and that keeps her safe. for a bit anyway.

the irony of gerri saving the company from the full legal extent of a sex scandal by dating someone from the DOJ??? like i’ll never be over it. even filing cabinets have to flatter and please and fuck when called upon. i genuinely don’t believe any of the other execs could have swung it because they’re not women. she dated laurie (generally unseen unless framed from another man’s possessive perspective) to save the men from going to jail for covering up rape allegations. the irony is delicious. and even though she did that, she’s discarded once she’s framed sexually. Dick Pic Gate was out of her control and yet when confronted with any element of gerri’s sexuality (even her PASSIVE sexuality, even after using it to save his company), logan dismisses her as weak or impractical or failing or whatever other excuse he uses to justify his disgust.

i would argue that roman’s interest in gerri is not in spite of but BECAUSE of her asexual framing. it’s a challenge that he’s never going to win which is ideal for his impotency issues; he can push and push and get the thrill out of it, out of the fucked up power dynamic, but he knows he’ll never have to actually fuck her. it’s all hypothetical: down a phone, through a door, half-joking, covered in sensible skirt suits. gerri’s deliberate lack of sexualizing is counterintuitively a turn-on for roman. and i bet the game of chicken they play is freeing for her too because the fact that she has to be professional and cannot be sensual is part of the fun of it. “roman is weird about gerri”. “it’s fucking disgusting”. not because of their family history, or their professional positions, but because she’s old. because the absence of her sexuality is enough of a presence to be off-putting. shiv patronising her about it as a power play is so weird because she’s talking to her simultaneously like a child and like an old woman, and gerri, agency-less, just has to keep reassuring her “i can cope”.

BUT it’s worse than that because it’s so meta. Because gerri is hot. her actor is attractive and like roman, many people watching find her sexless, no-nonsense framing to be titillating. me included. what if roman likes gerri not because of oedipal issues but just because she’s hot and god forbid we find a woman over 50 hot? but whether or not gerri is hot in the context of the show shouldn’t be a big deal, she should have been able to escape this by now!!! she’s in her 60s she’s a widow she’s tired stop sexualizing her!!! but don’t NOT sexualize her either because that’s problematic too and old women can be hot and old women shouldn’t have to be hot and suddenly i’m making gerri do what waystar does and exist as something sexual and non-sexual at the same time. she has a huge plotline in which she’s essentially a sex object. whether or not gerri is fuckable is talked about as much in the show with mildly-disgusted fascination as it is in the real world!!! she can’t win she’s hot she’s old she’s sexually framed she’s deliberately trying not to be she wants sex she doesn’t want sex she’s covering sex with sex and she’s telling roman to leave her alone so she can just do her damn job because she knows that this is what will bring her down!!! sex scandals historically don’t get men fired but an unsolicited dick pic knocks gerri off her podium in logan’s head forever. even now i’m talking about it at such length because i’ve given it so much thought!!! she’s the only woman in the old guard and she’s one of the most sexualized characters in succession. but only as a joke. in the abstract. never actually. because that would be weird. right?

[dunmeshistash]

Hi, so recently there was a dunmeshi signing (?) event with Ryoko Kui in Korea. And I have found some posts from korean fans about their experience and a bunch of illustrations. @Dgae_715 is the acc on twitter i have found most of information from reposts. But basically here are the most relevant facts that I have found (Please note that they may be inaccurate due to me relying on online translator):

A fan asked if post canon Falin will live longer, Ryoko Kui basically answered “maybe so, right?”

The same fan asked if Thistle without desire will able to live happily with the care of others, and as far as I got she said “I hope so”.(Note: I am really not sure if I got this one right at all) The fan themselves said the way Ryoko Kui answered was rather unprepared, so she may not have an answer in mind really on such specific questions.

Another fan asked how Mithrun is in post canon, Ryoko Kui said that he is doing well, working and pursuing hobbies.

Somebody asked Mithruns about strength, he is weaker than a soldier, even though he is got the fighting skills, but he developed them mostly because of his sense of professionalism (?), rather than for fighting.

Past Mithrun didn’t really fight that much, he was mostly an investigator(?), he rarely had to fight in the rear(?) units.

Apparently Falin’s chimera form can get oily, so she repells water a bit

In real life, Marcille would be a med school research student, while Laios would be a “furita” (basically a freelancer with no stable income)

Someone said if Ryoko Kui considered a bad ending for Falin, and Ryoko Kui said she, as an author wanted a happy ending, but in case of Falin, she was worried after the ending (14 volume or later?), but overall she thinks it turned out well. (I think the after the ending refers to her post canon fate, and maybe thats why Ryoko kui did an extra on that specifically later on) 8. Also someone asked if Ryoko Kui would eat the dishes from dunmeshi, and she replied she is a picky eater, and she also said to someone that she drew dishes that she liked and disliked in dunmeshi (I bet she doesnt like fruitcakes).

(Note: There is a 90% chance I got this completely wrong, translator was struggling a LOT here) Someone asked about what Laios is good at, she replied “when he is a party member”. 9. She also likes Lord of the Rings and Wizardly 6(?), and she likes Skip and Loather

When asked about what word definies Laios, she said he is actually a normal/usual person(?). I have lost the post with this specific answer, so I am going by my memory;-;

Some fan showed her that picture with Tennant Chilchuck, she didnt recognise the actor unfortunately. Also apparently this meme originated from Korean dunmeshi fandom???

There were other questions and answers too, but they mostly about Ryoko Kui. And I also may have forgotten to add some;-; Also some fan suggested to Ryoko Kui that Falin in the real life should be a dentist by the way she makes them drool(????I think they meant it in non-sexual manner, like an excited dog), they kind of laughed about it. Also Ryoko Kui drew Falin the most(?) for signing postcards, other characters, and only 5-6 Senshis, 2 Winged Lions

Anonymous asked: The same anon with Korean sign event ask. I knew I forgot something, but basicaly some fan showed Ryoko Kui the day dream picture that most of fandom presumes to be a Chilchuck’s wife and asked if its true, she answered “Its up to your imagination”. So basically neither no or yes

Thank you! I LOVE SKIP AND LOAFER WEEEE

Hopefully we get some more corroborating translations for the bits you're not sure!

[ghcstao3]

need more famous x non famous ghoap in either direction

famous, personable, charming actor soap with his grump of a husband ghost who he loves an insane amount, having been married before soap had really sky rocketed into fame. ghost is like a cryptid when it comes to paparazzi, actually impossible to photograph unless it’s by his own free will (which is incredibly rare). the public only knows of him because soap is incapable of keeping his mouth shut about his partner (every interview has at least one mention of ghost)

alternatively, famous and… not as personable actor ghost whose personal life is kept incredibly private, him being the perfect picture of professionalism that’s almost so perfect that it’s speculated ghost doesn’t really have a personal life at all. except he does, in the form of his bubbly, if not a little unhinged husband who can sometimes be found worming his way onto sets with the sole purpose of saying hi to ghost, and who, despite staying out of the spotlight, has won the hearts of many in the few times he’s been caught out with ghost

idk the idea of famous x non famous can just be something so wonderful i think

[riki-riks-chick]

like bodyguard jay 🫠🫠🫠 and he is never crossing line but keep callin you "ma'am" 🫠🫠 and fucks you rough but gentle at the same time🫠🫠🫠 i wanna die just thinking about it😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️😶‍🌫️

The Bodyguard ┃P.JS

Bodyguard!jay x reader

You're the daughter of two famous celebrities, jay is your bodyguard

cw: drunk sex (yn slighty drunk), kissing, jealousy, unprotected sex, no prep, bratty yn, slightly rough jay, gentle jay, slight dirty talk.

wdct: 1.6k

═════════════

Third Person POV~

Living as the daughter of a famous actor and actress is not fun. Especially when it always lands you in the media.

You were known for being a bit of a wild child, and you never thought it would land you with a personal bodyguard, but here you are.

Your father got quite upset after waking up to find his daughter all over the internet, kissing some boy who was known for figure skating. After that, he decided to stick you with a bodyguard who was only a couple years older than you.

He was handsome, sure, but it was hell having him follow you everywhere. It's like you never have a second alone.

And he's so formal that it fucking hurts. Always calling you "miss" or "ma'am" like you're some 60 year old woman.

You've tried teasing him, wearing revealing clothes, and even acting extra touchy when you're out drinking with your friends, but it's no use. He refuses to break.

He has never crossed a line. He's never entered your bedroom, not even with permission, and he won't look lower than your eyes when you're wearing anything even slightly revealing. He won't even touch you if it's not for safety purposes.

And now he's ticked you off completely. You were at a party, specifically to fuck around with the son of your mother's co-star. You were warned by your mother to leave him alone, but you decided to be disobedient and hang out with him anyway.

Getting away from Jay was hard enough, but once he found you in the back of a black Rolls Royce with that boy? That dopey, messy-haired, fuckboy? Oh, he was livid. He grabbed you by the arm, dragging you out and towards your own car which he'd been driving for you.

You got a rush from the way he grabbed you, tugging your skirt down and not even bothering with the fact that your shirt was partially unbuttoned.

"Jay.. Let go of me!" You yell, albeit slurred, snatching your arm from Jay's hold as he sighs. "Miss Y/n... It's not my fault your dad made me your bodyguard. Quite frankly, I never would've ended up here if you would've simply listened to your parents' orders."

This was the first time he'd ever responded in a non-professional way, and it shut you up immediately. "Listen, I know you don't like me. And I know you wish your dad would fire me, but I'm trying my hardest. I can't watch you do stupid shit like that though."

You simply drop your head, avoiding his eyes as he removes his jacket, placing it on your shoulders. "Let's just get you home.."

He helps you into the car, closing the door before getting in on the driver's side. He buckles your seatbelt before taking off.

When he gets back to your house, he thanks his lucky star that your parents aren't home to see you like this.

He makes it a mission to help you upstairs and then leave, but once he's in your room, you make it your goal to keep him from leaving.

"I should probably go, miss.." He avoids making contact with your cleavage as he pushes you away at the chest, giving himself room to breathe.

"Jay.. Aren't you supposed to do whatever I say?.." You ask as he nods, visibly straightening his posture. "Yes, ma'am.." He swallows hard, scared of his own thoughts in the moment as he takes in your sloppy appearance. His eyes trail the sway of your hips as you saunter over to him.

"Then fuck me..." You say, straightforward and outright. It catches Jay completely off guard. "What?! No!" He immediately rejects, earning a sideways glance from you.

"You interrupted me when I was about to get laid. So you're gonna fuck me instead.." You're clearly serious, but Jay is confused. He's always harboured something less than appropriate for you, but he'd never act on it out of fear of losing his job, and you with it.

"Miss Y/n.. I think it's just the alcohol talking.. Please." You push him against the wall, cutting him off as you press your palm straight against his crotch, palming his very obvious erection.

"Maybe it's your dick talking?..." You question cockily, bringing your left hand up to his nape to tug him closer. His lips ghosted hesitantly over yours. "If you want me... I'm yours for the taking. Stop being so formal."

He's completely sure that his next course of action is led by his dick, but he doesn't care. He cups your jaw gently, closing the small gap between you as he kisses you with a long-hidden passion.

It's feels as if he'd been waiting and yearning for this to happen. His lips press feverishly against yours as he leads you backwards and towards your bed, pulling away only momentarily to let you climb onto the bed.

Once he's back on top of you, hes unbuttoning your shirt, kissing down your torso in the process as he sucks on the available skin that your bra can't cover.

Once he reaches your waist band, he glances up at you, his eyes dark and filled with a burning desire. "Tell me, lovely miss... Did he touch you here..?" He asks, his finger trailing over your cunt through the barrier of your underwear.

"No.. You didn't give him the chance." You reply in a smart-mouthed tone, making him chuckle. "Good, because I would've killed him."

Then he's removing your skirt, tossing it aside carelessly as he tugs you closer by your hips. Your legs are on either side of him, and you have the perfect view as he unbuttons his shirt, slowly revealing his toned torso inch by inch.

As soon as his shirt is off, he's unbuckling his belt, undoing his pants just enough to free his erection. You take a second to marvel at his length, stroking it slowly as his lips part to let out a heavy sigh.

After letting you feel him up, he moves your hand, sliding your panties off as he tosses them across the bed. "Can I put it in..?" He asks, his tone filled with desperation. You nod, not wanting to wait much longer and risk your parents coming home.

The second he presses his tip against your hole, sliding in just slightly, you gasp, biting your lip to supress your moan as he bottoms out, stilling his hips to let you adjust.

"How do you feel?" He asks, rubbing your thigh softly as he watches your chest rise and fall with each breath. You take a second to respond, trying to filter out the slight pain you feel with how deep he is.

"Fuck it, just move." You let out a sigh, gripping his hand as he kisses the back of your hand before moving his hips slowly.

Each slow and deep drag pulls a moan from your throat. The way he's focusing so hard, on every movement, makes it feel so much better altogether.

"Are you okay, miss..?" He asks, using his free hand to cup your cheek as you nod. "I'm fine. And please stop it with all the miss and ma'am bullshit. Just call me Y/n."

At your bratty response, he thrusts particularly hard, his hands gripping your hips tightly as he quickens his pace. "Such harsh words coming from such a pretty mouth. Be nice..."

"Be nice, my ass.." You argue, tilting your head back as he moves his hips faster against yours, his thumb rubbing your clit in circular motions. The feeling is absolute torture, but you'd be lying of you said it didn't make you feel incredible.

"I wanna see the pretty little face you make when you cum... I wanna hear how good I make you feel."

"Jay... Fuck.." You moan, gripping his wrist as he smiles. "Your moans are so pretty.. I could listen to them forever.." He's already tailing his own orgasm, the feeling of you tightening around him edging him closer and closer.

"I'm gonna cum..." You whimper, gripping his forearm as he thrusts deeper, aiming for that one spot that made you see stars. "Cum for me, angel..." He encourages, his thrusts getting sloppy as his own climax builds up in the pit of his stomach.

"Fuck... Do you want me to pull out?.." He asks, unsure of how much longer he'll last. "Don't pull out." You command, making his heart flutter. "Yes ma'am..."

You groan at the choice of words, biting your lip to supress your moans as he tightened his hold on your hip, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. "Shit... Jay.." Your words come off as more of a whisper as your orgasm washes over you. You tighten around Jay, tilting your head back against the pillows as he lets out a deep moan, his hips stuttering.

He comes undone, filling you with his seed as he leans down to kiss you, his hips moving slowly against yours. "You feel so good.."

"I'm gonna make my dad fire you..." You mumble, finally managing to say something. Jay's eyebrow raises at your words, tracing soft patterns on your skin. "Why would you want that?"

"So I can keep you to myself like this.. So you don't hold back with me.." You explain as he smiles, leaning down to capture your lips softly with his own. "Angel, you don't have to get me fired for me to love you.. I promise you, I'm done holding back..."

═════════════

tysm for the req hope it was okay

[cleolinda]

Just for fun, since people kept mentioning that Mattel made a Diahann Carroll doll—it was before 1970, in keeping with the @hotvintagepoll rules, but it was for a TV (not movie) character, nurse and widowed single mother Julia Baker:

NBC changed the title [of the show in development] to “Julia,” and cast young Marc Copage as Julia’s son, Corey Baker. Veteran movie and TV star Lloyd Nolan was given the role of Dr. Morton Chegley, Julia’s employer. The cast was one of the first multiracial ones in American TV history, and it featured black actors in non-servile roles. Rather than playing chauffeurs, maids, cooks, and underlings, the African-American actors in “Julia” broke new territory. Here, they were cast as doctors, professors, health care professionals, and other positions that demanded education and training.

[…]

When asked about her connection with the character, Carroll was of two minds. She acknowledged that the nurse was dreamed up by a white producer and scripted by white writers. Still, she was always proud that she literally changed the complexion of TV. “For many people, ‘Julia’ was a fantasy show. It represented a mutual respect and a friendly work atmosphere that didn’t exist in many places at that time,” Carroll said. “If our show helped to show that that was possible, I’ll take that as an accomplishment to be proud of.”

[anouchard]

More a nerdy shout out than a question I suppose but, it's such an absolute delight to be going about the internet and there you are lol

Star Trek meme on my Twitter - Anusia

Awesome MagPost on Tumblr - Anusia

Open Maleovent discord - Anusia chatting away lol

It's so awesome how you are just one of us who also happened to get to play in the world we all love.

I guess my question is being a fan and in all of the nerdy fandoms does it change how you view your professional world?

This is a really interesting question! I'll try and keep it relatively succinct - there are potential essays in this one.

To be perfectly honest, it's taken me a little while to feel at ease being unabashedly enthusiastic about things since being cast as a character who is part of a universe that once elicited that same response from me as a listener. One of the reasons I allowed myself (yes, it really was that calculated) to become a fan of Malevolent was because I knew I would never be cast in it, and could therefore keep that non-professional engagement separate to a degree (I really connect with it far more as a writer than as an actor anyway - both Magnus and Malev are very much what I identify with and also aspire to in terms of themes, style, and character arcs).

That said, I think that at the end of the day, you have to really love this funny little industry, or any funny little industry of your choosing, to want to chase your dreams within it with any level of grit, fire, and force. Being a fan of something is a compliment, an expression of adoration and respect, and my way of showing that was attempting to turn podcast work into a career. If I hadn't loved and connected with Magnus as much as I did, I may never have been inspired to go into voice acting, and may never have reached out to RQ at all. The element of serendipity is not lost on me, but it also feels like a very natural progression of events.

Getting friends out of it, though? People I trust and care about and feel supported and inspired by every step of the way? That's the true miracle here, for me. There ain't no plan for that.

Side note: very glad to be an absolute delight. I'm just vibing, tbh, so that's very kind of you. I've had such a warm welcome here generally and I will always appreciate that. 😊

Hey, look, it turned into an essay anyway. Ah well.