#philippe: it's like looking at a mirror

[ferrstappen]

primero llegó verstappen l MV1

a/n: MONACO by Bad Bunny. that's it that's the tweet. this isn't very long and its all over the place but I hope you like it <3

summary: Suddenly, Max isn't annoyed about being featured in a music video.

Max couldn't stop staring at himself in the mirror of a tent full of outfits, cameras and people moving from one place to another. In his mind he already did enough promo for the team, more than enough after being crowned World Champion for the third time and a huge contributor to the comfortable win of the Constructors Championship as well.

Maybe appearing in a music video was where he draw the line?

He wouldn't have an issue if it was him on his fireproofs doing a couple of laps in some closed circuits, maybe even some hot laps, but having to pose next to his RB19, wearing a faux leather jacket and showing one of his TAG Heuer Monaco Titan, because he was a walking billboard, was a little too much on his books, especially as a make up artist mixed different shades of some foundation, and Max was trying really hard not to take offense after he told him "his dark circles were incredibly hard to conceal".

Here he was doing favors and in return was being offended by his lack of sleep and naturally pale complexion.

He almost laughed after noticing Checo staring at himself in the mirror, the same confused and uncomfortable look on his face, and the same tight jacket as they contemplated the marina from above.

In conclusion, yes, this was well above his paycheck. Max also wouldn't deny he didn't thrill on the presence of paparazzi in quiet Monaco. granted, they were looking for the big star who was doing some shots around the city, walking hand in hand with his model girlfriend, but he could still make out some yelling for him and Checo.

Then, his day took a turn.

Some crew members wearing headphones and what he assumed were the assistants approached him and Checo, telling them this wouldn't take long since all they had to do was walk around the car, get in and out of the car, with and without the helmet, all while blasting the song.

A very catchy and good song that mentioned he was the first one to cross the finish line. At least he couldn't complain about that.

But he was internally complaining when, once again, he found himself on the make up chair with the same make up artist who had a problem with his dark circles, but this time the place was much different.

A sharp suit and this time a heavy Patek Philippe on his wrist as he walked inside the Casino of Monte Carlo. Now he was greeted by Bad Bunny himself, who thanked him many many times for being a part of this, and in return Max thanked him for even thinking of him for his song. They fell into a comfortable conversations about cars when the singer motioned for two girls to come over, one Max recognized as Kendall Jenner, the other he didn't know but was eager to.

"Max, this is mi novia, Kendall, and this is her friend (y/n). They're doing some stuff on the background, don't they look incredible?"

Max swore the designer dress you were wearing was painted on you, because there was no way it could fit so perfectly on your body, with a couple of stray hairs adorning your face and long eyelashes accentuating your eyes.

"It's so nice to meet you, I'm such a big fan of motorsport," you stretched your hand and it caught Max off guard, not really knowing what to do.

So he panicked and gave you a weird handshake before lifting your hand to his lips and leaving a kiss, and he had never felt more like a creep, but he noticed you blushing and a giggle leaving your lips.

You wanted to add something when the crew called everyone to start shooting, Benito and Kendall leading the way, and the only thing Max thought of doing was to offer you his arm which you gladly accepted.

The song was blasting as everyone pretended to talk and surround the roulette, but you and Max weren't pretending to laugh or to talk.

He even left Checo by himself, he'd forgive him eventually.

"I'm pretty sure the camera is on us in this moment," you told him through gritted teeth, trying to keep a perfect smile.

"What should we do?" Max asked, trying to hide his smile while doing his best to give you his best seductive stare.

You knew he was flirting with you and it was surprising. After seeing him on screens and social media you figured he'd be cocky, not having any trouble flirting with women every weekend on different countries, figuring out a way with foreign languages, but you never pictured him as a giddy, easily flushed, good for banter man, and the only thing you wanted was to leave this shoot and have him show you the city, dressed to the nines and maybe pretending to be cold in the end so he could put his jacket over your shoulders, and that way you could see him with just a white shirt and undone tie.

But you were getting a bit ahead of yourself, especially when you heard the director yell cut and tell you and Max to pay attention to the instructions, earning you the glare of everyone in the room.

"Ey, cabrón, que se están enamorando, déjalos solos!" Hey, they're falling in love, leave them alone. Those were Benito's words.

And God, was he right.

[gurugirl]

The Con Artist | Part 1*

Summary: You're a wanted criminal and when Harry Styles, the detective on the case, finally catches up to you he finds it difficult to resist your charms.

A/n: This is detective!harry x crimina!reader / y/n | This will be a short series (3-7? parts). The Con Artist Masterlist

6.7k words

Warning: Criminal activity detailed (drugging, stealing, conning), smut (oral sex)

◈ ◈ ◈

The first time you remember stealing anything was when you were about three years old. From what you recall, you were with your mother at a dollar store of some sort. On the bottom shelf in one of the aisles was a pretty mirrored compact. It snapped close with a satisfying click and opened up easily for your three-year-old hands and so you put it into your mother’s purse as she was bringing you out of the store.

Being three years old, though, you forgot all about the mirrored compact when she surprised you with a toy she bought for you. The next day she came across the stolen item and somehow, she knew you’d done it. Because maybe there had been some sort of pattern. You just can’t remember stealing before that day.

But then you started stealing clothes from the mall when you were older. Lip balm (you became fond of the Chanel lip balm in Light but frequently settled for a Lancôme or Clinique as they were usually easier to snatch up), candles (the expensive ones to make it worth your while), pens, and lighters. You stole anything small enough to be taken without anyone noticing.

The only time you ever got caught was when your mom found the mirrored case in her purse when you were three. Even now, 23 years later. Here you are, stealing for a living. The man lying on the bed you are standing next to is knocked out cold. You may or may not have slipped him a little something to send him off to sleepy time before he could take his pants off, but that was the game. He wanted something and so did you.

Yours was a simple grift. Straight men are easy. All you have to do is hang out in really nice clubs and bars near the nice neighborhoods. Dress a certain way. Talk a certain way. Compliment the man. Compliment him some more. Laugh at his attempt at flirting and play dumb. Definitely laugh at his jokes. Act dumb. Sit alone. Bat your lashes. That kind of bullshit.

The man would need to be rich, or if not rich, showy and cocky (because how fucking annoying is a showy cocky asshole with nothing to actually show for it?). You typically looked for a nice watch (Rolex is easy to spot, but the really expensive watches are Audemars Piguet and Patek Philippe). He’d need to be a little drunk. Or even desperate is fine. Sometimes drunk isn’t necessary. You just need to get him to take you to his home. Never to yours. Married men would suggest a hotel. And that could work too, under the right circumstances. And married men were special because they’d never report you.

Then, once you’re in his house you suggest a nightcap, a drink for your nerves you say (a lie because you don’t drink alcohol) and insist on making them yourself. Drop in enough crushed benzos and voila. The man thinks he’s about to get laid but he falls asleep fast and you steal his cash and his jewelry. And sometimes a few other things you can take with you on your way out the door.

Tonight’s meal is a married man but his wife is out of town. The “house” is in Hope Ranch but it’s more like a mansion. It’s massive and the guy is loaded. That’s all you care about.

You served him a gin and tonic with a lime wedge and 10 mg of crushed-up benzos. You poured yourself a tonic and chucked a lime in for good measure, so it looked like you were drinking too.

He brought you to his room after drinking his glass of nighty-night juice and you could tell it was taking effect. He fell asleep almost too quickly. But who were you to complain? His wallet was lying on the coffee table and his Rolex was an easy snag. You were out the door in less than an hour. He only had about $50 cash in his wallet but the Rolex would be worth around nine thousand dollars for you. You loved the dumbasses with the expensive watches the most. Rolexes are a dime a dozen. They’re the easiest to come by and the easiest to get rid of.

By the time you get back to your little studio, it’s past 3 am. You don’t live in the best part of LA but it’s also not bad. Koreatown has its moments. The supposedly haunted Gaylord Apartments studio has been your home for the last two years. You truly could afford something nicer but it’s hard to imagine paying more than you already do for rent. It’s a waste of money really. You’re living fine and saving your cash. You don’t want to be a thief all your life. Just for long enough to save up so you can go anywhere you want, buy a house for cash, and live out your days as an old maid who never found love. Because love seems like a pipe dream at this point.

Men suck. But then again, you’re not really much of a catch yourself. So ending up alone is probably your true calling. You’ll buy a bunch of books, get a few cats, maybe grow a garden and wear robes all day long. Drink cold juice and watch murder mysteries at night with your cats all curled up around you, and fall asleep on your couch because sleeping alone in your bed just sounds depressing. And maybe you’ll do some traveling. Who knows? You’ve amassed a decent amount of money. You’ve given yourself until 30 and then you’ll call it quits. Just a few more years.

At the Gaylord, you’re not allowed to have pets, but you can have fish. You crouch down to look into your aquarium and see that Buster and Barry are fine. They usually are. They’re pea puffers. Kind of cute really. But Buster killed his first mate, Brenda.  When you introduced Barry, Buster left him alone. Buster and Barry don’t usually interact which is why they get along. You had no idea that puffers could tend to be aggressive but when Brenda was found belly up in the 10-gallon tank one Thursday evening after you’d secured a nice Saint Laurent coat and a Royal Oak Piguet, you were quite disappointed. You’d had such a good night too. The Royal Oak was worth close to $60 thousand. And the coat was just an extra on your way out the door. But poor Brenda. Dead in a day.

You turned off their fish tank light, “Goodnight boys.”

At night, when you were alone in your bed you’d think about the things you’d done. You never really found guilt anytime you thought back. You did feel like what you were doing was wrong, though. You knew that much, you just didn’t feel that bad about any of it, though. You’d made yourself a nice small fortune and you did it doing something you loved. Why did you love stealing from unsuspecting idiot men?

Who knows?

You had a mostly-typical upbringing. Your mom and dad split when you were five and you saw your dad every other weekend like most of your friends with their dads.

Your mom was a good mom. She took care of you. Loved you. Protected you. Encouraged you.

You didn’t have an unusual childhood. Others who had it far worse turned out normal. You had no excuse. No trauma to point at. No mental health problems ran in the family. No vendetta against men. Nothing to prove.

You just liked it. There was a thrill that came with it. And the better you got at it, the more fun it was. And you loathed the idea of working a regular job somewhere earning a living wage. A living wage. What a joke. You were earning like a CEO and not once did you ever have to put out for anyone you didn’t want to. Everything was on your terms.

You could sleep in as late as you wanted. Skip a day of work if you chose, never needing to call anyone to tell them you were taking a sick day. You could do two in one day if you were on a roll. Or you could abandon ship if the man you started chatting up turned out to be someone you could actually see yourself fucking. Because you did draw the line there.

If you started to become interested in the guy, or he was attractive enough, and he invited you back to his place you would have a choice to make. You could stay the course, drug him, and then steal his watch and his money or you could just have a fun night with an attractive man at his place. You wouldn’t steal from someone you’d slept with. You had some moral boundaries.

You were nice, though. You weren’t like a bitch to anyone. But I guess ask any of the men you’d stolen from and they’d have a different mind about that. You had a small handful of friends. You didn’t like letting people get too close, though. For good reason. Because when you got close it became harder to hide your dark secret. People always asked what you did for a living. What an intrusive question to ask anyone. You always made up some lie about working online and inputting data for a medical corporation. Something that pointed to you making just enough money that would explain your nice clothes and expensive purses, but also that would have you home during the day.

Your best friend, Raechel knows your secret. Probably your mom as well. Also, Josh who buys your stolen goods but that’s a different story. But that’s it. In the whole wide world, you have one person that you’ve told directly what you do (again, not counting Josh). Because you couldn’t hide it anymore. And Raechel is still around. She’s your best friend. Now your mom, well, you never told her but she knows. She’s not dumb.

Bright and early the next morning, if you can consider 11:30 am bright and early, you headed to your dealer slash fence man, Josh, after shooting him a message that you were on your way.

You had with you the white dial Rolex Daytona you took off of whatever his name was the night before. Now, this watch is worth about $20,000 but Josh would take a big cut of the profit because he was the one going and selling the stolen item, he needed to make money from the deal too. Plus whoever he sold it to wouldn’t pay him the full $20,000 either, because they also needed to make a profit.

You met him in your usual spot. He took a look at the jewelry and searched for the model reference number to make sure of its value. Then you left with $8,500 in cash and a quarter ounce of Girl Scout Cookies (that’s a nice strain of marijuana bud to clarify).

The bank wouldn’t take big ass deposits like that at a time or there’d be some kind of flag on your account and it would get reported to the IRS (protocol), so you generally would only deposit $3,000 at a time. Which also meant you had a large stash of cash in your apartment at all times. You tried to space out the deposits. Had multiple bank accounts at different banks, and went to different branches in different locations but cash was difficult to work with at times. It was the only part of the job you hated. Dealing with all that cash. Especially when you preferred to save most of it. You usually bought yourself nice things, but most of your money you didn’t touch. You were serious about your future plan of buying a house for cash and getting lots of cats.

Tonight you planned on going to the Warwick again. The last time you were there was six months ago. You’d gotten a big hit with a B-list celebrity and you didn’t want to show your face around there for a while just in case he found you there or anyone recognized you somehow. Six months seemed like a good amount of time to wait.

You stopped at your favorite café and picked up a latte and scone to go. Then you walked to Liberty Park to drink and eat your breakfast slash lunch in the sunshine.

You wondered who would be at the club tonight. The Warwick was usually crawling with celebrities (lots of money). You knew how to handle them all. It really didn’t take much though. Look cute, act dumb. Usually. There were a few times you’d encountered a celebrity or wealthy man who was looking for someone with substance, but that wasn’t what you were going for. You searched for the ones who wanted one fun night and nothing more.

You were sitting on the concrete ledge near the sculpture and sipping your hot latte when a shadow appeared blocking the sun from your body. You looked up to see a tall man looking down at you. Instantly you sat up straight. He was very attractive.

“Hi… I was hoping you could point me in the direction of The Ritz Carlton. I seem to be lost…” he looked at his cell phone and then held its screen to your face and you laughed, placing your latte down next to you.

You stood up and smiled and noticed he didn’t have a watch on his wrist (old habit), “You’re definitely lost. The nearest Ritz is gonna be like a 45-minute walk from here. It’s that way,” you pointed in the direction of the 110, though it couldn’t be seen from where you were.

“Fuck. Well, thank you, I guess. I’m new here and went for a walk and found myself enjoying the sun and now here I am. Lost puppy in a big city.”

The man had thick, dark hair, seafoam green eyes with a dark green limbal ring, richly pigmented lips, and a jawline that could cut rock. And he was British. Clearly from out of town.

You held out your hand and introduced yourself and he quickly wrapped his big paw around yours and you saw the tattoo on his wrist. His clothes didn’t indicate that he was well-off. But sometimes it was hard to tell. Some rich guys didn’t give a fuck. This one didn’t. If he was, in fact, wealthy.

“Harry. Nice to meet you. S’hard finding a friendly face in a new city. Do you live here?”

“I do. Not far from here. What are you in town for, Harry?” You asked, keeping eye contact. You didn’t know if you should size him up for a job or see if you could get him to take you back to his hotel for a fuck. This guy looked like he could fuck. Tall and broad, deep voice, and big hands. A dimpled smile.

“Ahh, just work. Plan to be here for about a month. Staying at The Ritz off Olympic while I’m in town,” he smirked at you and that was all you needed to hear to know he was interested. Yeah, you’d fuck him.

“Is that so? For a month huh? Here, let me give you my number, ya know, in case you need anyone to show you around. A friendly face like you said…” you gestured toward his phone so you could put your number in and he unlocked it and opened up his messages app.

You were bold. You had no problem picking up a guy to fuck. You just needed to be somewhat straightforward. Your jobs were different. Playing coy was the game when they wanted to feel like they were in charge. But when it came to actually fucking someone, you were in charge and you wanted them to know it.

“Seems quite forward to give your number to a complete stranger, Y/n,” he spoke your name, wrapping his lips around the vowels in the most sensual way. That mouth of his could do some damage. You swallowed.

You laughed and shrugged, “Not really. It’s just a number. Now, what you do with it is up to you. If you’re bold, you’ll use it.”

Harry grinned at you and the way you nearly let your knees buckle when you saw his dimples was not a normal reaction. But Harry was gorgeous. You'd let him fuck you if he was into it. Absolutely. This man could get it from the top to the bottom. He was well-muscled and sturdy under his clothes. Something told you he’d have a big dick too and you’d love to let him use it on you.

You shook yourself of your thoughts and Harry cleared his throat, “Well, thank you. I’ll certainly consider calling you,” he lifted his cell phone upward as he spoke.

You were a little disappointed by his remark. Consider calling you? What the fuck? Maybe he wasn’t straight. Would explain why you found him attractive. All the hot ones were some shade of gay. But he was flirting with you... Wasn’t he?

Harry waved as he walked off and you sat back down to finish your latte and dry scone.

◈ ◈ ◈

You got yourself dolled up and tried to erase the way you were feeling annoyed that Harry hadn’t messaged you or called you. You gave him your number. You were rarely rejected. Unless he was gay… You laughed at yourself as you sprayed your hair to hold the style and then looked at your phone again. It was 9 pm. The perfect time to show up at the Warwick. It was time to work.

You were let in with no problem, despite the long line to get in. No cover for you. You got yourself a soda water with lemon and sauntered around the perimeter. Lots of groups tonight. Some of the guys watched you walk by. But you were specific. Precise about the men you worked. The young ones in the groups were probably spending more than they could afford to be there. Not your type. You moved along the lower room until you spotted a group of men sitting together. Now, these guys were job material. Men with money.

You neared them slowly, sipping your soda water until one of them looked up and saw you. You smiled at him and kept walking until you found a place to sit where you could be in the sight line of the man with whom you smiled. He had his eyes on you alright.

You’d give it ten minutes before heading their way. Just to see if he’d come to you first. Just to see if he was into feeling like he had the upper hand. Sometimes older men preferred more traditional roles and liked to be the aggressor. Oh, little did they know…

You swung your left leg over your right one, letting your dress ride up your thigh so he could see what you were working with. You smiled at him again and then looked away, pretending to be caught in the act.

But then suddenly someone sat down next to you, catching you off guard. You jerked your neck toward the intruder (this was not uncommon), ready to tell him to buzz off when you were met with the warm smile of the man you couldn’t stop thinking about.

Your look of disdain quickly turned to one of excitement and you couldn’t help the smile that crawled over your face at the sight of Harry. He was in a suit; his hair was styled just so with a thick curl falling over his forehead. He had rings on his fingers and he looked like he’d been drinking a little with dazed-out eyes on yours.

“Y/n. I didn’t expect to see you here,” his gaze dropped down to your dress and your thigh and then back up to your face.

You mimicked his display, dragging your eyes down his frame and back up to his handsome face, “It’s been a while since I’ve been out. Felt like a good night to have some fun.”

The man you’d scoped, was long forgotten as you and Harry began to chat. He was alone at Warwick. Like you. And he was hot. He was clearly a bit tipsy with the way he was so loose with touching your arm and your hand, the way he’d pause his eyes at your lips as you spoke.

The thing that really got you worked up was how he’d lean in to speak into your ear so you could hear him. It was necessary to do because the club was so loud, but you fucking loved having him so close you could smell him and feel his voice vibrating off your ear.

“You look amazing,” he said as he plucked at the hem of your short dress, his fingers brushing against the skin on your thigh as he did so. Probably on purpose. Definitely on purpose.

You decided he’d be worth the work raincheck. You’d let him fuck you. And it seemed like that’s just what he wanted when his eyes settled on yours and he looked like he wanted to devour you.

“Wanna get out of here?” You asked. You were a-okay with abandoning ship for a hot night with Harry. Work could wait. This man before you, flirting with you and watching your lips as you spoke was ripe for the taking. You didn’t want to miss the chance to try him out in the sack.

Just like he said, the taxi stopped at The Ritz-Carlton on Olympic and he took you up to his room. In the taxi on the way to his hotel, he scooped his arm behind your back and pulled you into his side, brushed your hair from your neck, and put his mouth next to your ear, “You sure you want to do this?”

Your breath hitched in your throat. Yeah, that happened. That never happens. Not to you. You were the one making men’s breath hitch. But Harry had some kind of natural charm about him that matched your own energy. A panty-dropper. But it helped that he was so goddamn fine with a deep British accent and dazzling eyes.

The room didn’t appear to have been slept in, but that’s probably due to the strict housekeeping staff taking care to clean up behind their guests.

You kicked your heels off near the door and Harry walked up behind you and wrapped his arms around your front. He kissed your neck first. You were admittedly caught off guard by his energy. He was quite forward and confident.

You leaned your head to the side and smiled when you felt him in your back, poking you with what you knew was going to be a big cock. He was already very turned on.

You turned in his arms to face him and slid your hands up to his shoulders and kept your eyes on his, “I don’t usually do things like this…” you spoke innocently.

Harry tilted his head to the side and smirked. The look on his face said he didn’t believe you, “Me neither.” You certainly didn’t believe him.

You lifted yourself upward on your toes and pressed your mouth to his. You had had enough of the back and forth. It was time to get down to it. Harry’s cock was hard and your panties were wet. That’s all that was necessary at that moment. Talk could wait.

Harry gripped your waist and walked you backward to his bed with his mouth attached to yours. You let go of his shoulders and slid yourself back onto the bed as he crawled after you. You grabbed his collar and pulled him down to you, lips locking together in haste.

Putting your leg over his hip you bucked yourself upward to feel his hard-on under his pants and you moaned at the bulk of him.

“Get your pants off, Harry,” you cooed as you palmed over him. Harry sat back and removed his shirt and there was nothing in you that was disappointed by what you saw. More dark tattoos covering his chest and his arms. His body was masculine and sculpted exactly to your preference. Firm with smooth skin and a smattering of hair at his pecs and under his belly button.

You moved your arms behind your back and unzipped your dress and let it fall down your arms. You were wearing a special bra that was sticky on your breasts, which you’d forgotten about until that moment. It was difficult to remove in one quick go because the sticky inside was super sticky so it stayed put. You sat up and turned away from him as he began to unbuckle his belt and undo his pants.

Pulling the bra away from your skin slowly you looked over your shoulder and Harry was looking at you with his brows scrunched in confusion. You laughed and when you’d removed the bra lifted it upward so he could see, “It’s a sticky bra and it’s awkward to take off. Didn’t want you to see it coming off. It’s less magical that way.”

Harry spit out a laugh as he visually inspected the bra and he nodded, “Okay. If you say so,” taking the bra from your hand and tossing it on the bed. Harry was only in black briefs when he put his hands up to cup your jaw and pulled you in for a kiss. He pushed you back into the bed with his lips smoothing against yours and he settled himself in between your legs. You were left in only your nude thong. Harry’s briefs-covered cock was pressed right over your pussy. He was thick. You knew he was something special down there. He rocked down over you and licked into your mouth. His solid arms kept his torso held up while his hips were pressed down over you.

You bent your right leg at the knee and spread a bit for him to access you better and he moaned.

“You’re getting me wet even through your underwear. Need something, Y/n?” His cocky smirk was warranted. You hated a cocky man but Harry had every reason to be. He was delectable.

“I need you, Harry. S’why I’m here right now,” you spoke in your sultriest voice and licked at the seam of his lips. Harry brought his mouth down slowly, his warm lips pecking and licking a cherished path down toward your breasts. He palmed and sucked at them. You arched your back and panted. He wasn’t going easy on your nipples as he pulled each into his mouth and swirled his tongue around your areola. His nips caused you to moan loudly into the room.

He moved his head further down and you knew what was coming. But in all honesty, you hadn’t shaved in a while. You were full-on bush down there. You didn’t expect to be getting laid tonight. You were on a job when you saw Harry at the club. You got all dolled up, shaved your legs, and did what needed to be done. But no more than what was necessary.

When he got to your hips you braced yourself for him to see your pussy in its natural state. He put his fingers into the band at your hips and looked up at you as he slid them down slowly. You craned your neck up to see what his expression was when he finally took you in.

He saw your bush. You saw him pause at your pussy but he continued dragging your panties downward. You held your breath when he put himself back between your legs and lowered his face to your inner thigh, planting a hot kiss very close to the curve of where your ass and your cunt met.

“Can I?” He looked up at you, his mouth parted in lust. You weren’t going to say no to head. If he wanted to get down there with your wild garden of desire and wrap his mouth around your clit you’d let him.

“Yes,” you smiled but felt yourself blush a little at the idea of being munched on while you’re pussy-scaping was nonexistent.

But he didn’t seem to care at all. He put his lips over your mound and went to town. Like all the way into town and back home again, then back to the strip so he could have dinner and seconds. He found all the parts that needed to be found under your pubic hair. You settled yourself back into the pillow and relaxed. Harry was a man who liked pussy clearly. He wasn’t deterred by the bush one bit.

Your clit was being given sufficient attention when he began to use his fingers in your crease, softly stroking you up and down until he placed his middle finger right at your hole. He prodded it in a bit and you looked down at him between your thighs. He had his eyes closed, his tongue lapping at you then you watched as his lips found your clit and he pulled at it, sucking you into his mouth and you gasped. He was good. This man was hot and he was good at giving head?

“Fuck, Harry! Right there…” you moaned your words, needing to let him know to keep up with what he was doing. He was going to get you off fast this way.

Harry moaned into your pussy and opened his eyes when he heard you and he nuzzled in further, shaking his head left to right quickly and slurping your clit just as he inserted a second finger. You felt it go in. Harry’s fingers were long and he was getting the job done nicely.

You arched your back at the distinct feeling of heat traveling from your groin outward. You slid one of your hands down and placed your fingers into his thick hair. Something you’d wanted to do since you first saw him earlier in the day. You just had no idea it would be happening while he was expertly eating you out in his hotel room at the Ritz.

You bucked upward toward him and panted, “I’m gonna come, Harry… please….” Your voice was shaky and your orgasm was beginning to blossom. Harry was making a mess of his face with your arousal as he dug in further, one hand holding you down while his other kept his fingers stroking your walls just like you needed.

The snap fuzzed up your hearing for a moment. Your ears rang as you came in his mouth, your body stiffening and jolting with each stroke of his tongue. You were sure you were speaking but your mouth and your brain didn’t meet up as you quivered under the man who was lapping at your pussy like there was no hair in the way.

You opened your eyes when Harry kissed both sides of your hips and sat back. He looked down at you with a grin as your chest was rising and falling quickly, “Holy shit. That was the fastest I’ve ever come from… that.”

Harry chuckled and got off the bed. He walked toward the dresser and you could see his hard cock pressing against the front of his dark briefs. He grabbed two glasses and a bottle of water and brought them to the bed. Pouring a glass for himself and for you. He sat down next to you as you sat up and handed you the glass, which you happily guzzled down. Harry did the same. You hoped he wasn’t washing away the taste of your hairy pussy. That would be embarrassing.

“Sorry. About the lack of trimming. I really didn’t expect to show anyone the goods tonight,” you laughed. It was so ridiculous for you to be apologizing for that. It was natural for most women to have hair on their crotch. Just like it was for men. You weren’t sure why you were apologizing. Maybe it was because Harry was so incredibly attractive.

Harry’s brows pinched together and he frowned, “Really? I mean, I don’t care about the hair, but you weren’t thinking you were gonna laid tonight? Looking like that?”

You shook your head, “No. Truly.”

“Well, you have a beautiful pussy. I doubt anyone would ever kick you out of bed for going au natural. Doesn’t bother me.”

You smiled at him and leaned forward to brush the back of your hand over his cock, “What about you? Do your trim?” You smirked.

Harry laughed through his nose and took your glass, placing his and yours on the side table before covering your hand with his and pressing your palm down on his lengthy cock. He brought his other hand up to you, his fingers at your neck and thumb over your cheek when he leaned in to kiss you.

When he backed away from the kiss he looked down to where he had your palm pressed over him, “Why don’t you check.”

You let out a laugh of disbelief but smiled and took the top band of his underwear in your hands and pulled at it, lowering the material and seeing the smattering of hair at his low stomach turn into a darker, thatch before his cock sprung out. The cock was a total distraction. You had forgotten all about the hair when you saw his large organ standing out.

Harry lifted his hips and helped you pull his underwear down. He was certainly nicely built. That was for sure.

You smiled at him and then looked back down at the masterpiece between his legs and leaned in to kiss the tip. Harry moved back, putting his arms behind him to give you space to worship him.

You heard him inhale a sharp breath when your lips came into contact with the tip of his crown and then you looked up at him, “May I?”

Harry nodded quickly and you stuck your tongue out to lick him up and down. You had a lot of area to cover with his penis but you managed to lick him from base to tip all around. He was very hard in your hand. Heavy and thick. You stuck your tongue softly into the slit at his head and looked up at him. He had his eyes closed and his mouth parted.

Just as you wrapped your lips around his tip and swirled your tongue over his frenulum he jolted his hips and gasped, “Wait, god… hold on…” his hand was at the back of your neck, pulling you off.

You looked up at him and then sat back, causing his hand to fall away from your neck.

“I’m not going to assume you wanted to have sex, but I kind of wanted to,” he kept his dark eyes on you.

You hated giving blow jobs if you were honest and Harry’s cock was going to cause some damage to your tonsils you could already tell. That monster might not even fit quite well enough for you to really get the job done anyway.

“So, you don’t want a blow job?” You queried, just to be sure.

“I love a good blow job, but…” he looked down and laughed as he shook his head and then set his eyes back on yours with a goofy grin, “this,” he gestured toward his crotch, “tends to take a little training. Not the easiest man to suck off.”

You raised your brows and scoffed, “So, you’re saying that you think your cock is so fat that I’d have trouble taking it down my throat and you’re giving me an easy out and offering to fuck me with that instead of choking me with it?”

Harry barked out a laugh and nodded, “Well, I guess you could put it that way.”

“Thank God, because that thing is quite daunting. Would rather have it in my vagina than my throat, so thank you for that,” you couldn’t believe this man, but he wasn’t wrong. In all honesty, he probably got used to this spiel. It kind of sounded like he’d said it all before.

“So you do want to have sex?” Harry repeated to be sure.

You rolled your eyes and climbed over his thighs, pushing at his chest to bring his back down to the mattress. You straddled his hips and put your unshaven pussy over his cock and then kissed him as your answer. You rolled your hips up and down and Harry grabbed your ass and guided you up and down along his shaft.

There was a lot of girth to rub yourself on with him so your clit was being pressed into on each stroke. Harry moaned into your mouth and pressed you down harder over him as he rocked upward, pressing himself between your slick folds.

“Come on…” he breathed out, “I’ve got a condom,” he said and nudged you up. You stayed in his lap as he leaned over and pulled out a condom from the side table. You found it interesting that he had a condom there being that this was a hotel room. You knew the pattern of men staying in hotels.

Condoms would typically be kept in the luggage or a wallet. Unless the man was expecting company… But you decided to let it go. So what if he was expecting company? Maybe he planned on getting lucky tonight when he went out and thought ahead by putting condoms conveniently in the side table (which is odd for a man to think ahead like that). A woman, now she would think ahead and put condoms in the side table because women think about things like that. Men don’t. Not normally. It’s not a big deal, but it’s also out of character for a man staying in a hotel that he only very recently checked into.

“You okay?” Harry asked you, making you realize you were stuck in your head a bit.

“Oh… yeah. I’m totally good,” you nodded feeling a bit like you were missing something important. Like you were being forewarned of something by the tiny revelation you just had.

You took a breath and tried to push the sudden inexplicable feeling you had down. You wanted him to fuck you. Of course, you did. But what was that feeling you were getting? This sense that something was off? You knew to trust your senses. You had a good read on people and something was not quite right. And you saw him twice in one day? In LA of all places? A strange man from out of town? Yeah… something was off.

You put your hands on Harry’s shoulders and frowned, “I’m… sorry…” you pinched your brows together as you slid off of his lap, “I think I should go.”

Part 2

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[alienwlw]

October Horrorthon - Top Horror Movies

Talk To Me (2023) dir. Danny & Michael Philippou “I have this recurring nightmare where I'm looking in the mirror and my reflection is gone. Like I don't exist.”

[octuscle]

Ski instructor calendar

Philipp hated the mountains, Philipp hated the snow and he especially hated skiing. But after he was new to the company and his entire department flew to the Italian Alps for a weekend of skiing, he had to bite the bullet and take part in this event. As the new head of department, he had to integrate.

While the arrival on Thursday evening had been quite fun and he had made good conversation with the new employees, Friday turned out to be an absolute debacle, as expected. Philipp looked absolutely silly in his ski suit. He moved awkwardly and at walking pace across the piste. And was still on the ground more often than he skied his turns.

His ski instructor was close to despair, all the other complete beginners in the short were making rapid progress, but not Philipp. When the afternoon and the end of the first day of ski school finally arrived, Philipp breathed a sigh of relief. The moment he took off his ski boots in the ski cellar was the highlight of the day. He actually wanted to go to the sauna undisturbed for a while, as long as his colleagues were still happily racing down the slopes. But after standing naked in front of the mirror in his comfortable single room and seeing the bruises on his misshapen body, he decided against it and sat down in front of the fireplace after a shower and a coffee in the lobby.

Dinner and the digestive at the bar were pure gauntlet running for Philipp. He had made a fool of himself today. And that was the first impression he had made on many of his colleagues. His start at the new company had been a complete failure. His night was correspondingly restless.

Phil didn't care that he had to share a double room with a trainee from the accounts department. Firstly, he was glad that he was allowed to come along as a trainee at all. Secondly, he had never been on such a luxurious ski vacation in his entire life. He was more used to sweat-smelling dormitories in youth hostels. And thirdly, the trainee was damn hot. They had both slept naked, which had also been due to too much booze at the hotel bar. And when his roommate went to piss in the bathroom at dawn, he had an impressive morning wood. Phil took devoted care of the beast afterwards.

The two of them were among the first at breakfast afterwards. Phil couldn't wait to get back on his snowboard. He loved the crisp air, the snow was fantastic and with his new-found fuck buddy it was incredible fun to glide through the deep snow off-piste. It was already dusk when the two of them just managed to catch the last lift back to the hotel. The other colleagues were a little critical that Phil came to dinner unshowered and in his snowboarding clothes, but having fun on the apres-ski was more important to him than getting changed for dinner.

"Filippo" called his Mama. That didn't mean anything good. Actually, everyone just called him Pippo. It was also written on the name tag on his ski instructor's uniform. "Filippo!" The call became more piercing. Pippo ran into the kitchen, naked except for his boxer shorts. His mother held out a tray with a pot of tea. The fat guest from room 118, who had dropped out of his ski course yesterday, had asked for it. Pippo had been delighted to get rid of this completely untalented student. And now he had to play waiter at his parents' hotel before the ski school started. He quickly changed into a tracksuit, took the tray and brought it to the guest. The zipper of his jacket was wide open and showed a lot of his tattooed, well-trained chest. Philipp, as the guest was funnily enough called, stared at the youthful skin for a long time. At least there was a good tip.

At the end of the ski school, Pippo would have liked to go boarding with Phil. An excellent sportsman and a hot guy. But unfortunately the group had to leave early for the airport. And Pippo had to model for the ski instructor calendar.

Next year he was Mister March. It was his Mama's birthday that month. She would be very proud of her son.

[chinzhilla-main]

𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶-𝔒𝔫𝔢 𝔇𝔞𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔣 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔯 𝟸𝟶𝟸𝟹

I have this recurring nightmare where... I'm looking in the mirror and my reflection is gone. Like I don't exist.

Talk To Me (2022) dir. Danny & Michael Philippou

[letsgetrowdy43]

FRAT WEDDDINGGGGG

Frat wedding—

warnings: swearing and drinking :)

Au Masterlist!!

Nolan watched from afar, Adam's hand placed on Sunny's hip as he whispered something in her ear, a smile on her face as she shyly looked up at him. Luke walked up right behind them, a new cooler in his hand for his sister as he unknowingly interrupted the moment between her and the freshman.

"Remember last year during frosh week, when we made Ethan end his team initiation with a frat wedding?" he laughed and looked to Jaybone who smirked at the drunken memory. "Of course," Grano said as he passed the boys each a beer. "I'm thinking Adamo and little Hughes would make a perfect candidate for the tradition" he sipped his beer and pointed over to the couple who were being cockblocked by the girl's older brother.

"Luke is gonna have a fucking fit" Philippe grinned as he laughed, still watching as Luke was pulled away from his sister by Duker and Mackie, the blush on the girl's cheek growing as Adam reached out and grabbed her hand, leading her out of the house. "He's gonna have to get used to it," Nolan shrugged. "We could just not tell anyone, invite the team and a few extra and not tell anyone who the married couple is" Jay suggested as he watched everyone nod.

"Well boys, sounds like we're having a wedding"

ꕥꕥꕥ

A knock on the door startled Sunny and her roommate Charlotte, the two girls studying for their upcoming poli-sci test as a loud bang sounded. "Sun, it's for you," Charlotte said with a grin as she opened the door to see Grano standing in the doorframe, a letter in his hand and a purple garment cover in his hands as he grinned at her with a slightly sorry but smug look on his face.

"Nolan needs your help with something for the boy's initiation," he said as he placed the letter in her hands, "open it." She ripped the cream-coloured envelope open, brows furrowing as she read the containments of the letter, "Who's getting married?" "You," Nick smiled as he shoved the garment bag in her hands.

Charlotte laughed in the background as Sunny looked back at her, eyes telling her roommate that she was in need of saving, "like a frat wedding?" Charlotte asked as she stood up and took the letter from Sunny's grasp. "I'm confused" "The seniors have started this tradition of marrying off a freshman at the end of frosh week, Ethan was the culprit last year, but we need a bride this year and we think it would be funny if it was you" "Luke doesn't know?" "Of course not," he laughed and raised his brows at the stupid question, "and it's a surprise, so don't tell anyone."

Sunny opened the garment bag to reveal an old thrifted wedding dress, "so who is my husband-to-be?" she asked as he shook his head in response. "You ask too many questions," he smiled, "be there at six and bring a lot of booze, you're gonna need it," he grinned and walked down the hall as her jaw dropped at the idiocy of it all and shut the door before turning to a grinning Charlotte.

"I'm getting married?"

ꕥꕥꕥ

"Why does Nolan kind of have good taste" Charlotte questioned as she finished tying up the bodice of the wedding gown, a grin on her face as she fixed Sunny's hair and made her spin around to get the full effect. "I feel stupid," she looked down at the gown that was extremely itchy, a smile working its way onto her face as Charlotte grabbed the gloss from her vanity and applied some to the bride.

Sunny's fingers ran over the embroidered flower pattern on the dress, looking at her frame in the mirror as she inspected the cream-coloured lace. "I actually love the dress," she mumbled as he turned around to get a view of the corset back, her hair pinned up into a low bun as she reached out to grab her pearl earrings from her dresser. "It's beautiful, the vintage is very you"

Charlotte was dressed in a cute burgundy dress, to match the dress code that the boys had in place, "you gonna be my maid of honour?" she asked, feeling slightly stupid that this is what her frosh week had now amounted to. "Of course, I will," she grinned as she sat down to fix her makeup just before Ethan and Mark were supposed to pull up to their dorms with their 'limo' that was in reality just a beat-up honda civic.

"The boys are here," Sunny said as she looked down at her phone and grabbed her bag of coolers and headed for the door.

Mark grinned, dressed in one of his game-day suits as he got out of the driver's side and opened the car door for her, "your chariot awaits" he said as he took her hand and helped her into the car. "I feel so stupid" she mumbled, now feeling a bit embarrassed. "you look stunning," Ethan said with a wink as he turned and looked into the back seat, a shit-eating grin on his face, "now let's go get you married Sunshine"

ꕥꕥꕥ

Adam stood at the makeshift altar in the living room of the senior's house, Luca beside him as his best man, and Jay standing behind the altar as the officiant.

"Can I know who my bride is now?" he asked with an unimpressed look at Nolan who shook his head. "You frosh don't know how to have any fun," he joked as he took a sip of Jay's beer, "just shut up and be patient."

Rutger came out of the kitchen dressed in a dress with tutu, and a big frown on his face as Dylan handed him a basket full of fake flower petals. "This was my job last year," Dylan said with a laugh, "and I can tell you I'm much more enjoying watching you in than myself," he said as he patted him on the back and found his seat in the crowd of maybe thirty. "You look stunning princess," Johnny said from the crowd as he winked at Rut, who grumbled even more in retaliation.

Grano waved Luca to walk down the aisle to the back of the room to join the maid of honour in the procession. Luca patted his brother on the back, "Happy wedding day bro," he joked as he made his way into the entrance of the house where Sunny stood with a flustered look on her face as Nolan swapped out her bag of booze for a colourful boquet of an array of florals.

"Sunny, my sister-in-law-to-be!" Luca grinned as he locked arms with Charlotte, her roommate bit her lip to conceal the grin that was tugging at her lips, "I was wondering why I saw a bunch of your friends here, just thought maybe you got an invite"

charlotte squeezed her best friend's hand before turning around to whisper in the best man's ear, "has luke figured it out yet?" "absolutely not"

“Canon in D” by Pachelbel started playing loudly over the speak as Grano announced for everyone to sit down, for a bunch of dumbass hockey boys Sunny admired how much thought they had put into this wedding, amazed at the coordination of the seniors and some of the juniors.

Nolan grinned as he hooked his arm around Sunny's, "you did well" she said with a smile. "I've seen enough frat weddings in my lifetime, I could partially be a wedding planner at this point," he said as he waited for Rutger to get in position to start the procession. "Well I'm impressed" "I'm glad I got the stamp of approval from the bride"

Sunny smiled as she stuck her head around the corner of the doorway to the living room to peek at the crowd and Adam who stood tight-lipped in front of everyone as he awaited his fate. "I thought I sensed a little tension between you and Fants," he whispered as the red in the girl's face deepened. "I just met him on Monday." "I know sexual tension when I see it Sunshine," he mused as he offered her a sip of his almost empty beer, "it's cute, I love puppy love," the girl nearly spat out her sip of beer as he nudged her side. "That's a strong word for it, Moyle" "Doesn't matter what it is, I love a good opportunity to piss off your brother and this was just calling my name."

as he finished his sentence Grano motioned for everyone to start walking down the aisle, "this feels very serious," she mumbled to him. "you're ending it with shotgunning a beer, it'll get fun," he smiled as he smiled at Rutger who now started throwing petals on the hardwood floor, "trust me"

Sunny smiled and shook her head as she began walking arm in arm with Cap, her face heated up with embarrassment as the boys all let out chirps as soon as they laid eyes on her in the wedding dress. "Oh for fuck sake" Luke announced from the crowd as he saw his sister in fulling bride attire, "nope!"

Sunny looked to her brother in the crowd a mouthed a sorry before returning to reality.

Sunny caught a glimpse of Adam who stood at the altar, his face now an embarrassing shade of pink as he awkwardly waved at his bride. She made her way up to the front of the room face to face with Adam who smiled and commented on her dress. Rutger was stood of to the side begging Nolan to be able to change s the Captain waved him off and turned his head to pay attention.

Jay cleared his throat as he welcome the room, “I’m sure you all know why you’re here,” he smiled, “to get drunk, and to watch these two get fucking married!” He raised his beer, as did the rest of the room, “anyways, I don’t really know what I’m supposed to say,” he shrugged, “Other than that we have gathered here today to see not only a blessing romance but to also watch our favourite ray of sunshine’s brother absolutely imploded” he did a little wave to Luke, the attention turning to the girl's brother who glared at everyone around him, a pout on his face as he shook his head at the antics of everyone in the room.

“Ya-da-ya-da, beautiful couple, blah blah, rest of lives together! Anyone in this room object to the happy couple?” Luke stood up and opened his mouth, “not you, you sit” he said as both Mackie and Ethan sat him back down, a frown on his face.

“Vows and rings!” he said skimming through the speech on his phone that he had barely prepared, “Shay baby, rings please?” He said in a sing-song voice as Seamus stood up from his spot and handed Jay two cheap dollar store rings. one with a big fake diamond on the band, and one with just a purple chrome-coloured ring. “Now say your vows, Fants you first” “I didn’t prepare anything?” He looked up at their officiator who just raised an eyebrow which basically told him to come up with something, “Well sunny I’ve known you for nearly a week, probably the best week of my life, so that’s gotta count for a lot. I’m pretty sure your brother is staring daggers into me right now so I’m gonna cut it short, but I’m glad you’re my wife, even if it’s just for the night” he said with a smile as he slipped the ring onto her finger. Nolan let out a fake cry from across the room as the entire crowd clapped, “You have such a way with words Mo”

“Your turn!” Jay turned to Sunny with a smile. “Well Adam, I have known for about five minutes that you were my husband-to-be and honestly I’m glad. Seeing you while I was walking down the aisle took me back to about four days ago when were sat in public speaking class, and we were doing those god-awful icebreakers, and you told me that you could do the worm and I made you do it right in the back of the lecture hall, and from that moment I knew you were the guy I would be shotgunning beers and doing keg stands with on the upcoming weekend,” the girl grinned as she took the ring and slipped it on his hand while all the guys whistled and cheered from behind her. “Now that was pure romance! Anyways, I’m bored and this is going on too long so I now pronounce you husband and wife, please, and I mean I will literally pay you guys to do it so I can get a raw Lucas Hughes reaction, kiss the bride”

Sunny shrugged for a sec as Adam grinned as wrapped his hand around her waist to dip her, placing a chaste kiss on the apple of her cheek as the room erupted, he placed her back into her feet as Nolan handed them each a can, “and to seal the deal, shotgun frosh!” He yelled out as some random Pitbull song began playing in the background.

Adam cracked his open with his teeth and did the same to hers, very romantic, the room erupted with cheers as Sunny held her can up in the air first as everyone cheered at her fast timing.

"Wanna get a drink?" she mumbled into Adam's neck as he hugged her, everyone else in the room now working their way to the kitchen to get a new drink and start the post-wedding activities, he nodded and took her by the hand and led her into the kitchen. “Nope Fants, five feet away from my sister at all times tonight” Luke got up from his chair and began to run after them.

-

-

-

I used some of my knowledge of living in a frat-like house for the past year, but obviously, it's not 100% accurate :)

[politedemon]

TALK TO ME (2022) dir. Danny & Michael Philippou I have this reoccurring nightmare, where I’m looking in the mirror and my reflection is gone. Like I don’t exist.

[my-rose-tinted-glasses]

Intouchables and Last Twilight

Part II

So, as I suspected the similarities between these two works continued with the second episode. Because of the preview I was already expecting that to be the case when Mork started to work at the house. This episode only really mirrors the film in the first scene but since I did this last week, I thought I'd just do it once more. Also because I have a feeling that this will be the episode where the similarities end. Last Twilight being a BL, and the film being very much not, I think any similarities from here on will be very mild, if at all. By this point I think everyone is familiar with the film I'm talking about, if not go check part 1 here, or even better, go see the film.

The similarities in this episode are really only present in the first scene of the episode. I almost didn't make this post, but then I thought, might as well.

So the second episode of Last Twilight begins with Mork arriving for his first day of work.

.

So as soon as he enters the house, just like Driss he's given a tour and the specifics about what's expected of him.

Again, obviously there are differences, because Philippe lives in a palatial estate and Day lives in a house.

I also found it interesting that both Philippe and Day had a bad night just before Driss and Mork were coming in.

Another similarity was how both Philippe and Day had really high hopes for their carers. Although their motives are very different.

And this is basically where the parallels end.

For a couple of different reasons.

Philippe and Day's disabilities are very distinct. Which also means that Driss and Mork's jobs are very different.

Their willingness to have a caretaker at all is the complete opposite of each other. Also because of the above point.

And, of course, this is a BL.

So that's pretty much it for episode 2. If I missed anything, please let me know. Also since this is a post about parallels in Last Twilight, I just wanted to share another film that I think shares some similarities with LT.

Hoje Eu Quero Voltar Sozinho / The Way He Looks (2014 Brazil)

This scene completely brought me back to Hoje eu quero voltar sozinho. Of course there are a lot of similiarities between this two pieces. And both @appleswithhoneyarethebest and @grapejuicegay talk about some of them here. [Just like last week, I urge you to watch both these films.]

[thesquirrelqueer]

& Juliet 7/14/24 David Bedella's Last Show Notes

Act 1

- Surprise Rachel!Juliet and Dan!Romeo show! Also Phil!Lord Cap, Britt!Lady Cap and Michael!Augustine Track

- Philippe tried to high five Rachel during proposal and Rachel straight up didn’t see so he just sadly put his hand down

- Rachel did the gen z heart hands on the first "oops you think I'm in love"

- Rachel said chandelier in a funny way

- Rachel goes "how does my hair look... woah... so good!" then immediately starts fixing her hair in the mirror

- Philippe was so giggly in like every scene

- Philippe did a thing where he went on his toes right before proposing to Juliet

- Philippe grabbed Justin's neck on the first kiss

- unfortunately some people front of me left during NAG

- but also people behind me were audibly awwing with all the maycois kisses

- incredible Dan riffs during its my life as always

- Britt and Phil's voices as the Capulets during SMTM fit very well together

Act 2

- Dan and Rachel were very emotional during OMT

- David was very emotional at the start of SOMH

- Dan did the thing he does where he take's Juliet's hand in both of his while they're on the ferris wheel and Rachel stacked her hand on top of his so they were holding both of each other's hands

- Dan belted the high note in problem again

- David was so extra with fixing Philippe's hair and clothes during during his vows

- Dan counted the people in the room when Francois says “the songs were written for five parts” and at first he counted Jeanette then she just looked at him and shook her head no

[plutodetective]

It is again early morning, but I have rested and enjoyed the last twenty-four hours. I slept till late in the day, and awoke of my own accord. When I had dressed myself I went into the room where we had supped, and found a cold breakfast laid out, with coffee kept hot by the pot being placed on the hearth. There was a card on the table, on which was written:—

"I have to be absent for a while. Do not wait for me.—D." I set to and enjoyed a hearty meal. When I had done, I looked for a bell, so that I might let the servants know I had finished; but I could not find one. There are certainly odd deficiencies in the house, considering the extraordinary evidences of wealth which are round me. The table service is of gold, and so beautifully wrought that it must be of immense value. The curtains and upholstery of the chairs and sofas and the hangings of my bed are of the costliest and most beautiful fabrics, and must have been of fabulous value when they were made, for they are centuries old, though in excellent order. I saw something like them in Hampton Court, but there they were worn and frayed and moth-eaten. But still in none of the rooms is there a mirror. There is not even a toilet glass on my table, and I had to get the little shaving glass from my bag before I could either shave or brush my hair. I have not yet seen a servant anywhere, or heard a sound near the castle except the howling of wolves. Some time after I had finished my meal—I do not know whether to call it breakfast or dinner, for it was between five and six o'clock when I had it—I looked about for something to read, for I did not like to go about the castle until I had asked the Count's permission. There was absolutely nothing in the room, book, newspaper, or even writing materials; so I opened another door in the room and found a sort of library. The door opposite mine I tried, but found it locked. (dracula)

When I woke up, I was alone, lying on a sofa in a simply furnished little bedroom, with an ordinary mahogany bedstead, lit by a lamp standing on the marble top of an old Louis-Philippe chest of drawers. I soon discovered that I was a prisoner and that the only outlet from my room led to a very comfortable bath-room. On returning to the bedroom, I saw on the chest of drawers a note, in red ink, which said, 'My dear Christine, you need have no concern as to your fate.  You have no better nor more respectful friend in the world than myself.  You are alone, at present, in this home which is yours.  I am going out shopping to fetch you all the things that you can need.' I felt sure that I had fallen into the hands of a madman.  I ran round my little apartment, looking for a way of escape which I could not find. (the phantom of the opera)

The parallels are so chilling. The note. The locked doors. Christine is more desperate than Jonathan because she already knows for a fact that she’s been kidnapped (and I love the inversion too. She fell into the trap because she thought Erik was a supernatural being, an Angel sent by her father, when his danger lies in the fact that he’s just a normal man. Jonathan fell into the trap thinking he was going to meet a normal man, and fell in the clutches of a dangerous vampire), while Jonathan is frightened of the red flags, but still hasn’t enough evidence to fully realize what happened to him. And I love the differences too. Erik, under the delusion that he’ll later manage to make Christine into his wife, almost seems to care about his captive’s comfort. She has the means to do her toilette, and assurances that she won’t be touched without her consent. Of course, that’s nothing. He has fucking kidnapped and imprisoned her, and she’s right to despair. But even at these early stages, when Dracula has yet to show his true colors, Jonathan is being offered less than Christine. Dracula later claims to love him, yet he’s already deprived of mirrors and is already being touched in ways that make him uncomfortable. I love and am fascinated by both the similarities and the differences in these two passages. I love Jonathan Harker, Gothic Heroine.

[snugglebug-92]

Playing with Nolans hair and just like braiding it and him getting teased about it

You were laying in bed with Nolan when all of a sudden he sat up.

"Babe, can you braid my hair?" he asked.

"Yeah just let me sit up," you respond getting situated. You grab your brush before running it through his hair. You part his hair before starting on the left side. You finish it before starting on the right side once you deem then both good enough you tie them off.

"All done?" he questions.

"Yep," you smile. He stands up looking in the mirror before smiling at you.

"They look, good baby," he smiles placing a kiss on your lips.

"Thank you," you smile. The two of you cuddle for a few minutes before Jay knocks at the door.

"Hey, are you ready to go?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm ready," he smiles before giving you a kiss on your forehead.

"I love you. Have fun with the boys," you smile. He waves before heading out with Jay. He's gone for about 15 minutes when you get a facetime from Philippe.

"You let cap leave the house like that," Phil says flipping the camera to your boyfriend still in his braids.

"He wanted me to do it," you shrug. Nolan smiles and waves at the camera.

"He's such a simp," Phil says shaking his head.

"He's cute so I'll allow it," you laugh. You hear a few of the other boys make fun of Nolan's hair.

"Hey at least I have a girlfriend," he smiles sitting back and letting them chirp him.

[skarsgazing]

Obsidian - Chapter 2

Without question, it could be said that Mia Hastings was a morning person. She liked to wake up strictly before the sun rose as it gave her a feeling of confidence, like she had the upper hand on the massive ball of plasma. So, she was up and about at around 5:30 am.

Now, to say her apartment was a shit-hole, as she liked to describe it, would be a massive overstatement, especially in a place like New York and in a neighborhood like Tribeca. 

However, when you grow up in an acre-sized property and are part of the über-rich 2% of the world population, anything aside from that would be a definite downgrade; Despite the circumstances, Mia wasn’t particularly snobby but rather not accustomed. When you have it all handed to you, and suddenly you have to fend for yourself, it can be a bit of a trainwreck.

So she gagged as the fork left her mouth, getting a good taste of the scrambled eggs she had just finished cooking minutes ago. She sighed, giving up on her cooking journey and grabbing some yogurt instead.

 "How can you mess up scrambled eggs?" she thought, letting out a big sigh.

After the punch that the small setback had made in her ego and in the confidence juice she had for the day, she decided to go somewhere where she had more reign - her closet. 

A strapless leather-like corset, a long purposely worn-out denim skirt with a side slit–obviously, long black high-heeled boots, bracelets, earrings, rings, an obnoxiously expensive diamond-encrusted Patek Philippe watch, which she never took off, and the most ridiculously small black handbag you can imagine. Her hair, always down and in contained chaos, and her makeup subtle but visible.

Beauty always came naturally to Mia, effortlessly weaving through her life much like the privileges that accompanied her affluent background. While she, like any human, had her share of awkward years during her formative phase, her journey through adolescence was marked by a transformation akin to an unfolding flower. Mia's appearance seemed to defy the usual struggles of self-discovery, as if the art of looking good was engraved into her very being.

Her features, meticulously curated and showcased, reflected a careful grooming that hinted at a certain artistry. It was not just about wearing the right clothes or applying the perfect makeup; it was an intuitive sense of what complemented her unique attributes and emotions. Mia exuded an air of confidence, born not only from her upbringing but from an innate understanding of her physical self.

Content and playfully admiring herself in the mirror, Mia's excitement bubbled over, prompting her to almost leap from her room to the living room couch. The plush, dark-green velvet-like sofa, large enough to accommodate five people, embraced her with its inviting comfort.

A plan formulated in her mind as she dialed the familiar number on her phone, watching the also familiar name on the screen. She had decided that she didn’t want to abide by all of her father's rules and was determined to find a workaround. So, she was ideating an escape plan or something that could buy her more time - or buy her anything, for that matter.

“You realize it’s fucking early, you psycho?” a groggy voice answered on the other side of the line.

“Hi Benny,” Mia replied, unconsciously smiling at her brother’s voice. 

The Hastings family tree was a bit tangled and extensive, not worth getting into at the moment. But one thing could be said: Mia loved her older brothers, Benjamin and Sebastian, twins, in that order. 

She would say she liked Ben better, as he was less prone to lecturing her and giving her a hard time, but, in truth, she loved them both equally — even if they didn’t share the same mother, as she didn’t with any of her other siblings.

 “A curse or a blessing?” She would often think.

“Hey, doll,” Benjamin said, his voice a little muted on the phone. “What’s cracking?”

“No one says that anymore,” she pointed out, rolling her eyes. “And it’s not that early, anyway.” She quickly glanced at her watch, her eyes widening as she realized it was indeed quite late, or she was about to be quite late.

“Hey, I need a favor,” Mia continued, unconsciously rolling a piece of her hair on her finger.

She heard some movement on the other side of the line, as if Benjamin was getting out of bed—or in, she couldn’t tell. Then, a big sigh.

“Mia, my hands are tied,” he finally spoke. His tone was soft, loving, and ultimately, apologetic.

“I haven’t even told you yet,” she protested, her brows furrowing.

“Dad… you know how he is. I can’t help you much,” he said. Mia held back the impulse to hang up the phone, not wanting to let her anger control her actions.

“Benjamin, you don’t know how it is. He is—he—I need some money,” Mia left out, practically whining. “Ben, I’m dead serious.”

There was a pause on the other side of the line, and she felt the now-usual frustration growing in on her.

“Listen, I’ll go visit you soon. I can’t fight dad on this; he is… really angry,” Benjamin spoke.

“I don’t want you to visit,” Mia quickly replied, and quickly regretted. She sighed out loudly. “I’m sorry, I do want you to. I just, I can’t even use the cards,” Mia continued.

“I know, it’s fucked up. Just give him time; he’ll come around. I’m sure of it,” he said, trying to give some reassurance to his sister, even if he didn’t fully believe it.

“He won’t, he’s the devil,” she said, and she heard Benjamin audibly laugh.

“Hang in there. I’ll try to talk to him, alright?” he added.

“Thank you, Ben.” Mia let out. “Could you at least send me an Uber or something? I’m late to work.”

"An Uber? Late to work?" He responded, the surprise evident in his voice. Mia could almost tell he was raising an eyebrow as he spoke.

"Yes, stupid. That's my life now. Can you?" She said, her cheeks growing hot as she grew tired of giving explanations, and it was only the start of the goddamn day.

He reluctantly agreed, unsure of how to even use the app. When he finally did, Mia got inside the small vehicle and, to the surprise of no one, arrived at the giant building thirty minutes late.

She entered with ease, took the elevator, and clicked the heels of her boots into the floor as she walked through the busy room towards her workstation. There, she was quickly greeted by none other than the handmaid of the devil, as she now liked to refer to her.

"Late again, Amelia," Mia quickly said, interrupting the older woman as she opened her mouth to speak. "I know, I got caught up with something..."

She received a glare from Miranda and a subtle eye-twitch – she resisted the urge to smile.

"You come in here early and you leave late. Is that clear? Filming starts in two weeks, and we need to sort out all of the wardrobe. Zak's waiting for you in the fitting rooms," Miranda spoke, her tone never failing to make Mia's skin crawl, as if she was purposefully wanting her to feel like a useless worm. Mia fought the urge to roll her eyes and simply crossed her arms, concentrating on keeping her big mouth shut for once.

"Fourth floor, room 3," Miranda continued, her voice now louder as she failed to get any kind of response from Mia.

Mia threw her arms in the air, turned around managing not to say anything, and started walking towards the elevator.

"And we'll talk about the dress code later," she heard Miranda say in the distance.

"Dress code?" Mia pondered as she walked into the elevator. The last thing she needed was this little piece of freedom taken away, especially for some simpleton outfit that she wouldn't like at all. She refused in her head. No dress code.

"There you are, my little polished diamond." Zak stretched his arms out toward her, and Mia felt his warm embrace around her as he affectionately wrapped her in a hug.

"Sorry I'm late," Mia replied, still in his arms.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," he joked, his green eyes lighter in the daylight.

"I'm so hungover; it's sickening," Zak continued, now plunging himself into a chair and throwing his head back. "And we have so much to do today." He whined at Mia.

In a different scenario, Mia could've soaked in the experience with much more relish. While not well-versed in the intricacies of filmmaking, the world of crafting clothes was a familiar embrace for her. She found a peculiar liking for her father's brand, despite its undeniable connection to him. The designs, fabrics, and meticulous attention to detail spoke to her, creating a bond that stretched beyond mere family connections.

Yet, Mia had a knack for shelving her emotions. She swiftly redirected her thoughts, honing in on the challenges and prospects awaiting her in the day ahead. The vibrant atmosphere of the film set was becoming almost like a refuge, providing a momentary escape from the intricate web of her personal life.

Similarly, a wave of uncertainty coursed through Alexander's veins. While no stranger to the silver screen, this marked his debut as a producer. The dynamics were shifting; earning money differed from investing it, especially in a project of such magnitude. Insecurity wasn't a familiar companion for him, nor did the prospect of financial matters typically ruffled his feathers. Wealth, after all these years, was a resource he possessed abundantly.

However, this venture held a unique significance. It wasn't just about capital; it was about aspiration and the desire for a successful outcome. Alexander had poured time and effort into the pre-production phase, meticulously overseeing every detail. As he juggled also learning his lines for the role he'd play in the film, he extended the invitation to some close friends to join the project. Their presence, familiar and comforting, served as a constant morale booster.

A faint smile played on his lips as he observed Joel engrossed in studying his script. The tranquility of the moment shattered when the abrupt sound of a cup meeting the table echoed through the room.

"This jet lag is killing me. Can we go get a refill?" Joel sighed, gently placing the papers next to the table and standing up from his chair. 

The Swedish actor, also a close friend to Alexander, stood just shy of 6'2, shorter than him, yet his distinct frame seemed to occupy more space in the room. His hazel eyes fixed on his older friend.

"Alex?" he called, breaking Alexander from his thoughts. Alexander looked at him, realizing he had missed part of the conversation. Furrowing his brows, he leaned forward, attempting to concentrate on what Joel had just said.

"Coffee run?" Joel asked again.

"Definitely," Alexander replied, feeling fatigued from the lack of sleep of the previous night. 

His long strides made almost no sound against the polished concrete floors as he walked side by side with Joel towards the break room.

The room exuded a dim ambiance, adorned with golden industrial lights hanging from the ceiling. Along the back wall, a long carved wood bar was the centerpiece, complemented by recessed lighting illuminating it from the floor. An array of cups, coffee machines, and additives were enticingly on display.

Moving toward the bar, Alexander was greeted by a delightful sight. Standing at the wooden bar was Mia, accompanied by Zak, the head of the costume department. Alexander stopped just shy of her, the desire to reach out and touch almost overwhelming.

As Mia spun around, laughing at something Zak had just said, she bumped into Alexander. His large hand swiftly clutched her forearm, preventing her from spilling her drink. Her eyes traveled up his well-built chest, meeting his gaze.

"Careful there," he cautioned, his voice resonating with a delicious deep tone that momentarily left Mia speechless. Nodding in a daze, she couldn't find words. He looked incredibly good, donned in a casual black sweater and jeans, sleeves rolled up to reveal his smooth skin. Realizing his hand lingered a bit too long, Alexander pulled away.

Joel, catching Alexander's gaze fixed on Mia, raised his eyebrows at the unexpected behavior of his usually more reserved friend.

"Oh, hi," Zak greeted, giving the two of them an appreciative glance. "If this isn't my lucky day," he added with a playful smirk, earning a laugh from Joel.

"Hey, Mia. I had the chance to work my magic on this one during fittings earlier. Meet Joel," Zak introduced with a smile. "And this one, you already met yesterday. You were on your knees, if I remember correctly."

Following Joel's laughter, Alexander noticed Mia's lack of hesitation in response to Zak's comment. The image stirred a reaction in him, making him look away with a chuckle, trying to dispel the suggestive thoughts.

"Hi. Mia," she greeted the pair, deliberately avoiding exclusive eye contact with Alexander. He couldn't help but notice her soft lips curving as she spoke, and his eyes were drawn to the mesmerizing movement of her long earrings, casting subtle flashes of light. Almost unconsciously, his gaze traveled down her neck, appreciating the way her outfit sculpted her body perfectly. He fought to look away, once again. Observing Joel's subtle glance as well, Alexander frowned.

"Nice to finally meet you, Mia," he said, his eyes fixed on her, savoring the natural way her name sounded on his lips. Mia felt her heartbeat quicken, yet she stood confidently, not shying away from the attention, maintaining a composed exterior despite feeling like a total wreck inside.

"Long day ahead?" Joel asked, gesturing toward the two very-full cups of coffee Zak and Mia were holding.

"God, tell me about it," Zak replied, rolling his eyes and appearing somewhat annoyed. "You actors got it easy, I swear."

Alexander's smile widened. 

"Are you an actor as well?" Joel inquired, his eyes fixed on Mia, who couldn't help but notice how pretty his hazel eyes were.

"Oh no, I'm on wardrobe—kind of," Mia replied, shrugging and furrowing her brows a bit as she spoke.

"Kind of?" Alexander humored, now intrigued. 

He stretched his arm to grab a cup from behind her, leaning towards her and closing the distance between them. Not too close to make her uncomfortable, but near enough to catch the scent of her sweet perfume. After a moment, she stepped aside, clearing up space to let him prepare his drink, keenly observing his swift movements.

"Yeah, it's complicated," she paused. "But I guess I'm on wardrobe."

"Mhm," Alexander hummed, his eyebrows pressed together and a slight smirk on his face. Mia bit her lip, almost instinctively, her back pressed into the wooden bar, as she took a good look at the tall man standing close to her.

"Ah, we gotta get going," Zak interrupted, holding his wrist close to his eyes as a notification came in through his smart-watch. "But we'll see each other..." he paused to think. "At four? I think the meeting's at four, we'll see." He started to walk, gesturing towards Mia to follow along.

"It was nice meeting you," she softly said, and Alexander fought the urge to devour her right then and there. Her gentle voice echoed through his head. Mia offered Joel a warm smile, and then her eyes fixed on Alexander, who was already looking at her.

"It was nice meeting you too, Mia from wardrobe—kind of," Alexander spoke, grinning. She chuckled, and he thought it was magnificent. He then really struggled not to turn around as he heard her walk away with Zak.

"What the hell was that all about?" Joel inquired as soon as they were out of hearing range, poking at his friend.

"What was what about?" Alexander asked, taking a sip of his hot coffee.

"That," Joel replied, motioning towards the door where Mia passed seconds ago, a mocking smile on his face.

"Oh, shut up, totally unprofessional" Alexander rolled his eyes, brushing it off and half-smiling.

"Mhm," Joel continued. "If I didn't know you any better..."

"Uh-huh, if I didn't know you any better..." Alexander replied, and Joel shook his head, laughing, raising his left hand to show the ring he wore.

“Happily married, I’m afraid,” he said, smirking.

“Well, I’m happily single,” Alexander replied.

“I’m sure,” Joel teased. “I’m sure of it.”

“I truly am,” he replied, smiling but getting a bit defensive, having had this same conversation several times.

“What about the girl you were seeing, the one from London?” Joel inquired, also taking a sip of his coffee.

“Same old. It didn’t work out,” Alexander said, with a stoic expression.

But Joel knew better, knew him better. Alexander was probably the most centered person he had ever met, with a good family life and upbringing, and the dashing shine of fame hadn’t really affected him at all. However, if he had one flaw, it would be that he never stayed long enough to allow himself to fully experience intimacy and attachment with anyone.

There was this one girl, a long time ago, but it didn’t work out in the end, as he liked to say. Joel would often think that he really didn’t want to make it work, that maybe he hadn’t met the right person yet.

Joel raised his hands, giving up on the subject, and the pair went back to their secluded room.

Mia sighed in her workstation, once again left alone and managing order. Miranda had denied her entry to the famed meeting, despite Zak's suggestion that it would benefit her to start getting involved. Cursing Miranda a million times, Mia remained at her desk, matching polaroids to folders and organizing lookbooks for future reference.

As she held a photo closer to her eyes, the becoming familiar frame of Alexander caught her attention. He looked hot; there was no other way to describe it. Against a regular white backdrop, he sported military black pants, no shirt. Mia took her sweet time analyzing every detail of his well-built torso. Almost in auto-pilot, she carefully taped the photo to his folder, brushing her finger along his name.

From a young age, perhaps too young in her opinion, Mia had been aware of the effect she had on the male species. She noticed how they stumbled over their words, exchanged meaningful glances, and struggled to hold her gaze. Their eyes often wandered into the curves of her body. While she found it somewhat disgusting most of the time, she also enjoyed the knowledge that she held some kind of power over them. Right now, she yearned for that power over this particular man. For one of the first times in her life, she wanted to feel desired by him.

She heard the commotion of people leaving the conference room, and though she couldn't see clearly, she guessed the meeting was over when Zak approached her while talking to Sophie, co-head of set design, and Jeremy. A chuckle escaped her when Zak gave her a look, motioning towards the latter.

“Yeah, just planning and boring people talking,” Zak finally said upon reaching her. “You didn’t miss anything important.”

“This wasn’t so much fun either,” Mia replied, smiling.

“Yuck, I know,” he rolled his eyes. “Let’s go, we’ll cry about it tomorrow,” he motioned towards the exit.

“I… actually think I’ll stay a bit to finish this. Miranda will kill me if I don’t.”

Zak raised an eyebrow, hesitating for a moment.

“Look at you, being an obedient little mouse. Who knew…” he teased.

“Shut up,” Mia chuckled. “Maybe she’ll let me join the other meetings.”

“You know you’re kind of her boss, right? Since you own the company she works for,” he said.

“I don’t think I’m in a favorable position right now,” Mia replied, pressing her palms on the table, frustrated.

“Well, suit yourself, doll. But don’t stay too late, okay?” he said, a slight drop of concern in his voice.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mia brushed off as she continued with her tasks.

It was considerably late when Mia finally finished her work, even though a good chunk of the extra time was spent on her phone, a subtle act of protest, she thought. Putting her phone in her purse, she turned off the small lamp and made her way toward the elevator, impatiently pressing the button six times.

“Leaving?” a voice from behind made her jump. She turned to see Alexander.

“Sorry,” he quickly added, chuckling.

“It’s fine,” Mia replied, offering him a comforting smile. “Yeah, they totally exploit me, working hard, all of that.”

And Alexander thought of a few ways he could exploit her.

The elevator doors opened with a loud sound, and Mia stepped in, followed by the tall man. He pressed -1, and she pressed 0.

Alexander furrowed his brows, noticing she wasn’t headed to the underground parking. 

“Are you taking a cab home?” He inquired, almost unconsciously.

Mia looked at him, confused. 

“Yeah, I think so.”

“Mhm,” Alexander hummed. “You’re not from around here, are you?” He grinned, his eyes holding her gaze. He laughed at her confused expression.

“You can't really be walking around the city with a watch like that,” Alexander added, gesturing towards Mia’s wrist.

“Oh,” she said, realizing he was probably right. “I hadn’t thought about it.”

Alexander stretched his arm to press the button to close the doors as soon as they opened on the ground floor.

“I’ll take you home,” he said, more as a statement than as a question.

“That’s really not necessary,” Mia started, but Alexander gave her a stern look that made her snap her mouth shut instantly, an uncommon occurrence for her.

“It’s not a problem,” he added, smiling.

There was something about elevators—the noise, the limited space, God knows what—that always seemed to multiply and elevate sexual tension to the max. And God, was there tension. They stepped outside onto the parking space, and their arms brushed together as they did so, perhaps for less than a few seconds but enough to make Mia shiver. He didn’t seem to notice.

“So, why are you here so late?” Mia asked, the sound of her heels resonating in the almost empty space. “Are you having a secret affair or something?” She teased, wanting to see his reaction.

“No affairs,” he added, his lips curved into a half-smile. “I’m also a producer, so I had to stay a bit later."

“Oh, so you’re one of the big bosses,” Mia added, playfully looking at him through her lashes, testing him.

He nodded with a subtle grin on his face and started walking towards a shiny, black, Aston Martin parked up against a reserved space. He took note of how Mia didn’t even flinch when she saw the expensive car, and he started to put 2 + 2 together in his head—no reaction, the expensive watch, the way she carried herself—and it intrigued him a lot.

He unlocked it, pulling open the passenger side door for her, then grabbed her hand, easing her into the seat—taking a good and hard look at her full cleavage while she entered, before walking around to the other side, silently thanking whichever higher power for a second to breathe and clear his head.

“This girl,” he thought, shaking his head.

After she gave him her address, the car took off. Alexander didn’t need GPS, knowing the city well enough to navigate the streets with ease. He drove with one hand, palm pressed to the wheel, guiding it smoothly as they traveled through the city.

Mia nibbled on her lip, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye. Alexander’s right hand rested on his lap, violently wanting to be on hers.

“So… where are you from?” Alexander broke the ice—or the tension—taking a quick glance at her, and her bare shoulders.

“Seattle, I guess,” she replied, hesitant.

“I guess—kind of,” Alexander laughed. “You’re being very mysterious, you know that?”

Mia laughed, her eyes fixed on the way Alexander’s face changed completely as he smiled, like a beam of light illuminated him from within.

“Sorry—”

“It’s complicated,” he interrupted, teasing.

Mia hummed, and her lips curved into a smile.

“I was born there, and my family is from there, but I spent a lot of time abroad at a boarding school,” she began, surprising Alexander with her sudden honesty and openness. “And… My father got me this job, so I’m not sure of where I fit.” Mia added before giving him time to ask more questions.

He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders.

“Ah, good old nepotism,” he paused, taking a moment to look at her. “My dad got me a bunch of jobs as well; he was an established actor before me.”

“Well, my case is the other way around. He got me this as a punishment of sorts,” she complained, and Alexander almost melted at the sweet way she pouted. Then he chuckled.

“How come?” he inquired.

Mia hesitated for a moment, not wanting to get into the subject. She had an objective, after all, and it had nothing to do with her personal life. She had this obscene tendency to overshare and hadn’t noticed she had been feeding him more than she wanted.

“Okay, okay, too much about me,” she said, leaning closer to him, resting one of her elbows on the center console of the car. Alexander tensed up at the sudden closeness but kept his stoic expression, making Mia fight the urge to roll her eyes. Was he being hard to get, or was he just not interested in her?

“I want to know about the famous actor in front of me,” she said intently.

Alexander tightened his grip on the steering wheel and let out a hefty sigh, a subtle smirk playing on his face.

“I’ll bore you to death,” he replied, his tone lighthearted.

“Well, then no more information about me,” she said, sitting back in her seat. Her hand brushed against Alexander’s knee as she adjusted, causing him to catch his breath.

“That’s a shame,” he responded.

Peeking at her, he noticed she was trying to suppress a smile, gazing out the window. Instantly, he felt more at ease and confident. The car glided smoothly, hugging the sidewalk in front of her building. The air felt tense with anticipation.

Mia’s mind raced, pondering what to say.

“Thank you,” she said, turning to lean on her side against the seat. “for the ride." She continued, “It was very kind of you.”

“My pleasure. Are you okay getting in?” Alexander's tone was serious, genuinely concerned for her safety.

Delving into her small purse, she pulled out her keys and jingled them in front of his face. He nodded. “Good.”

“Well, drive safe.” She smiled, leaned over, and planted a kiss on his scruffy cheek, dangerously close to his lips. “Goodnight, Alexander.”

His lips curled up at the sound of his name from her lips, and he had to physically restrain himself from reacting.

“Goodnight, Mia.”

He leaned down slightly to watch her enter her building, not looking away until she got inside safely. He would’ve walked her to her door, but he was worried it’d seem like he was trying to sleep with her. As bad as he wanted to, he thought it would be unprofessional.

As soon as her door closed, he slammed his head back into the seat and let out a groan. Pulling away from the sidewalk, he sped the whole way home.

------------------------------------------------- Notes: I'll probably go back and edit a couple of things but I wanted to post this today cause I'll be traveling this weekend and it's been long enough already lol love y'all CC: @differentcatcat

[adarkrainbow]

BD reviews: The good, the okay and the bad

Today's review - L'origine des contes, by Philippe Bonifay

France has a deep and intimate history with fairytales. My blog mostly focuses on literature, and I already did a few jumps in the domain of cinema - but this French presence of fairytales also expands into the most French of all media... THE BD! La BD! Aka, "bande-dessinée". Yes, it is technically just the French translation of the English term "comic book" - but I do like to keep the original appelation BD because the European BD (especially the Franco-Belgian BD) and the American comic books, while similar by many ways, are also very different by many other aspects - different sale techniques, different formats, different materials, very different histories and rules...

So, I wanted to do a quick dive into a handful of fairytale-related BD (not all because there's a HUGE amount of fairytales BD). I'll cover here four in a row, more or less extensively, and I want to begin with a series I deem to be a bad one. "A l'origine des contes". "At the origin of fairytales". A series written by Philippe Bonifay and released in three volumes in 2013 - each volume with a different artist and focusing on a different fairytale (Pinocchio by Thibaud de Rochebrune ; Snow White by Fabrice Meddour ; and Bluebeard by Stephane Duval)

I have only read two of the volumes - not the Pinocchio one. Everybody keeps saying the Pinocchio tome ("tome" sounds in English like "tome of eldritch lore" or a "grimoire" but in French what English folks call "comic book volume", we call "un tome de bande-dessinée" so I'll use tome for simplification) is the best in terms of art and story, but the other two ones left me such a sour taste I don't know if I will even take a look at it or not.

This series offers and proposes a very simple concept. "What if there was an actual, historical, realistic origin to the fairytales we know today? What if there was a REAL, and darker, story behind these childhood classics?". Each volume has as a narrative frame a fictional version of the ones who wrote the fairytales (Perrault for Bluebeard, the Grimm brothers for Snow White etc...), and proceeds to present us a dark, harsh story between the tragedy and the horror tale, set in a defined country at a defined time period, and that supposedly "inspired" the fairytales. Of course, this is all fictional pretense, as the author clearly wasn't interested in getting the actual folkloric or historical roots of the fairytales, and merely wanted to invent a darker, realistic alternative to the classics and present them through his BD.

In itself, it isn't a bad thing - as in, the series clearly does not pretend to be actual historical document, it is very clearly all fictional, and we had a lot of "realistic and darker, time-period" retelling of fairytales. In concept it basically evoked to me Maguire's "Mirror, Mirror" (I have not read Maguire's book, but based on everything I heard about it, the rough concept seemed to be the same). "A l'origine des contes" keeps popping up when you go searching for "adult BD about fairytales" - and the cover and general presentation already prepares you for a violent, mature and dark story. Just the cover of the Snow-White one depicts an axe-wielding woman with bloody snow surrounding her, and her breasts half-out of her corset. This establishes the "adult" trend. But what I was NOT expecting was for this to be one of those "bad" adult series.

There was a wave of "edgy" adult BDs at the turn of the century, whose entire topic was to present some sort of serious, dark story, preferably of historical inspiration, while adding in it a lot of shocking gore and a lot of nude women and a lot of sex scenes, at the detriment of the actual historic elements. A perfect example of this would be Jodorowsky's "Borgia" BD, a 2000s series centered around the life of the Borgia family - or rather based on their dark legend as a clan of corrupted, murderous, incestuous, proto-mafioso who poisoned everybody, defiled religion and took control of Rome... And it decided to amplify the dark legend even more. Deaths and mutilations and incestuous sex and gratuitous sexual perversity and plague and religious fanaticism all thrown together with as a pseudo-plot the historical political and religious manipulations of Rodrigo Borgia, and the dysfunctions of his broken family. Compared to this, "Game of Thrones" looks tame.

However, despite "Borgia" being basically a "historical snuff movie", it had something that "A l'origine des contes" does not have. It is FUN. As in, weird, perverse, classic slasher-fun. It does everything in such extremes and with such outlandish extent and it amplifies everything so much it becomes almost a gory parody and you just laugh at it all - and while it is clearly all hyper-fictional, it does take inspiration from the actual rumors, legends and claims surrounding the Borgias, it is merely a twisted mirror of their ACTUAL dark myth. But "A l'origine des contes"? Despite being much tamer in terms of sex and gore than "Borgia", and thus being more palatable, it lacks any kind of fun or interest - precisely because it keeps itself "contained" and "grounded", the bad elements pop out more (like the gratuity of nudity, or the lack of need for X violent scene to happen), and by literaly removing all the magic of the fairytales but replacing it with nothing, it produces a dreary and frankly boring thing... But worse crime of all: there's almost no real basis or interesting link or true twisting mirror of the original fairytales!

To give you an example of what I mean by that, I'll talk of the first volume I read: Bluebeard.

The so-called "real" story of Bluebeard is that there were in the Middle-Ages (well it's supposed to be the Middle-Ages but a recurring theme in this series is that clearly no historical research was made and the artist and author just threw whatever they wanted in there) beautiful twins - but one, after surviving the plague, became ugly. They grew up wanting to become great artists - but the ugly and deformed brother ended up drowning in his bitterness at being the "ugly, hidden one" while his lovely brother got all the praise and love. And the deformed twin growing madder and madder, he starts becoming murderous... You start thinking "Oh, I see, so this is what was hidden in that forbidden room, the murderous twin! And the one who killed wives wasn't Bluebeard by his evil double!". The latter is true: here, all of Bluebeard's wives were killed by his envious and mad twin. The first sentence howeve turns out massively wrong because of the final wife, of the blood-stained key, of Bluebeard's house/castle, we have no trace! In fact, the only two elements Bonifay kept from the original story were "A) A guy name Bluebeard B) has lots of wives that end up killed". And that's literaly it - nothing else from the original fairytale is taken, and in fact, if it wasn't for the iconic name of Bluebeard, you wouldn't even KNOW this was supposed to be a Bluebeard adaptation.

Many people pointed out that Bonifay clearly had here an inspiration and influence from Gothic tales or the fantastique genre - he pushed the original story of Perrault towards the grounds of "Doctor Jekyll and Mister Hyde", and "The Portrait of Dorian Gray"... But he pushed so far it basically ends up being its own story with barely any relationship to the original one. In fact, it feels VERY strongly as if Bonifay had an idea for a different BD, couldn't get published, and recycled it for his Fairytale series. This is just about a guy trying to escape his murderous shadow-twin, who keeps killing all of his wives, no matter how far he goes - because, and I rolled my eyes there and skipped the whole arc because come on ; because he even goes to THE DEEPEST PARTS OF AFRICA and marries there a girl from some random tribe, and I just skipped it all ahead... Oh yes the whole "artist" plot is also involved here, because the murdered wives are used by the mad twin brother for some sort of grandiose sculpture the brothers had planned since teenagehood. And if you want to know the reason why Bluebeard is called Bluebeard, it could have been interesting but it is delivered in such a silly way: the good-looking twin got a knife-wound on his chin that made it so that he had a hairless spot in his beard, and to cover it up he wore a beard-jewel with a sapphire on it, hence the "Bluebeard" nickname.

Overall my main grief was that, despite supposedly telling the "true story of Bluebeard", it offered us... something completely different, an entirely different and un-fairytale like story that seems to have been hastily stitched into the Bluebeard mythos. But I still decided to go on and check another tome of the series...

The Snow-White one. And... again, a disappointment and that's where I decided I wouldn't finish the trilogy.

It is too bad because there, at least the story clearly was a reflecton of "Snow-White", and there were some cool ideas in here. For example - a link formed between the dwarves and the "evil stepmother"! (She isn't queen here, Snow's father being... a count or marquis, or something, i can't recall well). I haven't seen a lot Snow White adaptations that decide to give something personal tying the dwarfs to the evil stepmother. Here, the evil stepmother used to be a scheming, ambitious circus-girl that ended up marrying Snow White's father pretending to be someone else (at least I think...), and ultimately, to get rid of her shameful past, set fire to the barn where her whole circus family was sleeping a few days before her wedding. And the dwarfs, as it turns out, were circus dwarfs who were part of the same team as the evil stepmother, and survived the fire, and still hold a grudge against her for killing their family. That's a neat and cool idea!

Similarly, the ending of the tale was also very interesting - to show how the tale is a "realistic" one that the Grimms "reinvented" into a magical one, in the historical story Snow White ends up actually dying, killed by her evil stepmother, and she only "survives in her glass coffin" because the dwarfs that had sheltered her grieve her and carry on her memory until their own death... That's a very cool and beautiful idea to oppose the sad reality of the death of a beloved young girl with the fairytale logic of "dead princesses come back to life thanks to their prince charming".

But unfortunately this comic still has so many flaws it becomes a dreary, bleak and even boring read. The tale is muddled, there's again gratuitous nudity (such as the evil stepmother getting undressed to "pay" the hunter she hired to kill Snow White) so blatantly un-needed (especially since the whole point of the stepmother's character was that she was tired of being used like a prostitute by the circus she came from), the framing device of the brothers Grimm commenting the tale they are reading is POSITIVELY USELESS (as in, they basically just do "Oh!" or "Ah!" or repeat what we just saw as readers - this felt like so much waste of ink and paper and space)... Oh yes, and there's also the problem of the defective print!

This isn't something exclusive to the copy I read - other reviewers online pointed it out. This tome got a big misprint issue resulting in the text of several speech bubbles being displaced onto other speech bubbles, or the dialogue of one page being interverted with the one of another page, making the story even more confusing and incomprehensible...

In conclusion: I do not recommend these comics, except if you are a fan of the artists who made each issue. But in terms of fairytale adaptations, or even of "dark fairytales", they're just... bad, and unrelated, and very poor. And I am sad THESE got promoted whenever there's talk of "adult fairytale BD".

[theheadlessgroom]

@beatingheart-bride

"One of a kind..."

Susannah echoed this sentiment without even thinking about it, not even realizing she'd said it aloud as she let Philippe's poetry perspective on the Beast sink in, settling in her heart as she turned it over and over in her mind, trying to reconcile within herself both her own affinity for the Beast and her guest's surprising opinion on the matter.

For as long as she could remember, she had seen something monstrous in herself whenever she looked in the mirror: Despite her father's loving efforts to dissuade her from thinking so, she couldn't help but let the cold looks and harsh whispers burrow themselves beneath her skin, to convince her of what she felt was an ugly truth. That she was an unlovable beast, that no one in their right mind would ever love her, and that she had to make peace with that fact.

But Philippe de Clair's words came crashing through that fragile perception of herself like a stone through a window, smashing it all to pieces: If he could think this about the Beast, that he needn't change himself to find a happily ever after, did that mean that someone could do the same with her? That they could look upon her and see nothing that needed changing, and could love her all the same? It was hard to imagine, but a part of her clung to it nevertheless.

Snapping out of her reverie, she put on the wriest of smiles as she nodded, "I...I agree completely, M-Mr. de Clair."

[anhed-nia]

BLOGTOBER 10/30/2023: TALK TO ME (2022)

When I was 9 or 10 years old, I went to a slumber party with a lot of other girls who started a game of choking each other for the rush. I didn't participate, but watched in fascination as they took turns making each other pass out for several hours. Early on, it devolved into a lot of girls faking it so they could then pretend to say outrageous things "in their sleep", so this wasn't as extreme a scenario as it may sound. However, there's something deeply perverse about it, at least relative to the (bullshit, often harmful) "innocence" society projects onto children, and I wasn't sure if I should even write this all down. I had a feeling that probably lots of little kids have done this, but I couldn't be sure. I tried looking it up on the internet, and found a pretty upsetting article about it from just a few years ago. So, I suppose it's probably pretty common, and has been so, though it's not always the casual thing I remember from childhood. I thought about this for the first time in decades when I recently saw TALK TO ME, a strange and original Australian horror movie that I'm really sorry I missed in theaters.

Mia (Sophie Wilde), an alienated teenager struggling with her mother's suicide and her father's subsequent withdrawal from her, finds a bizarre form of comfort in a disturbing game she learns at a house party. Local delinquents have somehow procured an embalmed, severed hand that causes anyone who holds it to become possessed by ghosts. This is safe when done for short periods of time, beyond which there lie untold perils. Inevitably, Mia breaks the rules in order to reunite with her late mother--a foolish mistake that sets off a gruesome chain of events, threatening to destroy her along with all of her loved ones.

For a movie with such a fun and stylish veneer, TALK TO ME is surprisingly sad and grim, and also unpredictable. Things about it didn't quite add up for me: Where does this object come from? Why do the kids accept its extraordinary supernatural effects so readily and fearlessly? What effect does it exactly have on them, that cause them to behave like addicts, endlessly going back for more even when many of them are humiliated by the behavior of the possessing spirits? At that, why do kids play games like Bloody Mary, where the expectation is that a demoness will spring out of your mirror and murder you? Why are Ouija Boards all the more attractive because of the rumored dangers? These questions dredged up my ancient memories of the choking game, something that may not have made sense to most adults, because it was a little scary, and because it broke the rules around what society assumes about innocent young children. At that, there may be something to the fact that TALK TO ME was made by first-time filmmakers Michael and Danny Philippou, whose relative inexperience may have given them the freedom to ignore the usual expectations. This produces a rather uncertain viewing experience that sometimes results in a breech of contract with the audience, who may not expect something as intense as this movie becomes.

Obviously this is a commercial graphic related to where to stream TALK TO ME, but it so represents my feelings about being a film lover in the modern world that I'm including it anyway.

Of course, I had to look up who the filmmakers were, which was sort of an unpredictable journey in and of itself. First it was like...oh no, they're YouTubers. I really don't want anything to do with that whole entire culture. Then further down their Wikipedia page there's the Controversies section, and I was like, Oh no, half the time I am forced to hear about a YouTuber, it's because someone has been outed as a gross predator, I don't know if I even wanna look... And then I read what was in there. Twice. And I was OK with it:

The End.

[lumiereandcogsworth]

the whole library scene is beautiful and fantastic in so many ways but one way is how telling it is of adam’s autism afjskdj

“are you alright?” — not getting Why the library is causing her to have such a reaction, low empathy, not understanding her expression

“have you really read every one of these books?” “what? … [responds]” — auditory processing delay. he heard her, he’s just, buffering

“not all of them, some of them are in greek.” “is that a joke? are you making jokes now?” “….maybe.” — manz has no idea what joke she is referring to. he was being serious,,, some of the books are written in greek and he can’t read greek so he hasn’t read them. why is this funny.

him walking away from that conversation and his face looks like he feels as though he messed up in 100 different ways — daily autism mood with social interaction

even past the library scene, like. if not autism then why he do that.

when philippe shakes his head and then adam immediately does it too. behavioral mirroring

“i never thanked you for saving my life.” “well, i never thanked you for not leaving me to be eaten by wolves.” [she laughs] — AGAIN!! he wasn’t joking!!! why is that funny!! (i know why it’s funny but i’m speaking from his perspective) he was speaking plainly, she didn’t leave him to be eaten by wolves, and he never thanked her!

also like, multiple times throughout the movie we find him up somewhere perched (on the colonnade before attacking maurice, up ?? somewhere?? before hopping down to stop belle from touching the rose, going up there to walk around and brood (singing evermore)) LIKE !!! i don’t know exactly how that’s autistic but it just feels like it is. it IS creature behavior but it’s like. Kreechur behavior, ya know? he likes the opposite of floor time. he likes to be tall. i think he feels like things are clearer up higher… like he can get away from life up there. but, i digress.

also also the way maurice and belle being there is such an inconvenience to him???? instead of thinking about the curse being lifted he’s just like CAN ONE OF YOU JUST BE MY PRISONER AND THE OTHER LEAVE??? IT’S NOT HARD. (again. LOW empathy. but he’s just cruel anyway). my point here: sudden and unexpected social interaction (IN MY OWN HOME?) our beloathed !!!!

edit: i forgot to add, also the way he starts pacing grumpily in front of the little tower dungeon while belle & maurice hug goodbye. PACING!!!